Chapter Text
Rain lashed against the cracked windows of the abandoned warehouse. The storm brewing outside was thoroughly drenching Yokohama as the torrents of water rushed over the cinder blocks in an almost calming static sound. Inside, however, the air was stale with the smell of wet concrete and rusted metal, and it made Chuuya uneasy. He subtly scanned his surroundings, eyes catching on Dazai a few yards away. The younger boy leaned against a half-deteriorated pillar off to the side of the cargo entrance, and Chuuya rolled his eyes at the sight. There was a nonchalant air to his actions, but, upon closer inspection, Chuuya noticed his unbandaged eye observing the building as well.
Dazai’s gaze locked onto him, and a smirk found its way to his lips. “Is Chuuya nervous? You worry too much, just like a tiny bunny. This is just a little information transfer. What’s the worst that could happen?” The smirk never left, but the way his gaze darted subtly across the expanse of warehouse in front of him did not work to settle Chuuya’s nerves. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Dazai was right. Having only been in the mafia for less than six months, Chuuya was still nervous on missions. Mori had assured him that this feeling would go away with time and experience, but to remember that he was still technically a child and that it was ok to be scared in situations in which one experienced the contrast between life and death. Chuuya listened to the slight scraping of Dazai’s shoes against the cracked concrete floor and sucked in a deep breath to stabilize his anxiety.
He himself hadn’t been given very much information about what they were doing. Dazai seemed to at least have a slight understanding of what was supposed to be happening here, and not for the first time, Chuuya wondered what kind of things his counterpart had experienced in his life to make him this seemingly calm. It seemed like nothing ruffled Dazai’s feathers. He could be on the brink of death and still have a flippant attitude towards his situation–which, decidedly, was not normal. The only thing that truly brought visible emotion to Dazai was the absolute joy he seemed to experience by taunting Chuuya into a wild reaction.
That was why it threw Chuuya off when his usually uninterested face went stiff, his posture changing as he stood up straighter. “Dazai, what’s gotten into you? You literally just told me not to be nervous.”
Dazai, instead of answering, put his hands up in surrender. Chuuya watched as those typically stable hands twitched from uncertainty. He could hear his own heart start racing, and slowly, he tore his attention away from Dazai and carefully turned his head to look behind him. That was, until the cold shock of a metal gun barrel touched his skin. The chill of what was happening shot through his body like an ice bath, and he sucked a breath in as he felt a knife greet his side.
People seemed to have an affinity for stabbing him. At least it was on the opposite side of his last stab wound. Maybe he should just change his name to ‘Pin-cushion’ at this point.
All jokes aside, the person digging the weapons into his skin was staying strategically just out of his range of sight. Chuuya knew better than to try to move in either direction, so he stayed as still as possible. He heard Dazai take a single step forward and inwardly cursed him as the blade dug deep enough into his skin to puncture.
“I would stop moving if I were you, kid.”
Dazai sighed, stopping his movements and cocking his head to the side slightly. “I will stop moving, but, as you’re threatening members of the Port Mafia, I’d suggest participating in my little questionnaire.”
“You’re a child. I am not participating in anything.”
“Oh dear. So, the blood on your clothes doesn’t belong to the info trader we were supposed to meet?”
“If you’re talking about the idiot who wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings outside, then sure! It’s his. And if you don’t shut up, pretty soon your little friend here will give me some of his blood to go with it.”
Dazai chuckled slightly. “Little? Yes. Friend? No. He’s actually just my lap dog, here to keep me company as I complete the tasks assigned to me.”
Chuuya would have rolled his eyes if it wasn’t for the feeling of blood trickling down his side at an alarming rate. It was seeping into his clothes, adding to the feeling of cold, sticky dread that encompassed his body. The man holding him hostage let out a chuckle devoid of much emotion beyond insanity, the knife digging further into the skin above Chuuya’s hip.
“You’ve got a smart mouth boy. I’d be careful if I were you. Talking like that will only get you in trouble. If you give me the information that you two brats were going to give that carcass outside, I’ll let you go.”
“What information?” Dazai asked.
The man quickly pulled the gun away from Chuuya’s head and fired a shot off at Dazai. Chuuya felt his body tense in horror as the room ricocheted the sound waves for a moment, before he was able to process that he could currently move his head. He was able to quickly adjust his line of sight to where the man had aimed, looking down at Dazai— who seemed to find his current situation amusing, to say the least.
Dazai was poking at the bullet from where it had hit the pillar he had been leaning against prior to the arrival of their new friend. After inspecting the damage to the concrete, he turned with a slight smile and clapped his hands together. Chuuya was glad that at least one of them was having a good time, as the sound served to startle the man, and that blade dug deeper into his body, breaking muscle at this point.
“Ah yes, the information on Suribachi City. I don’t know much, and you’re trying to kill the one who does.”
“Oh please. This little weasel probably knows less than you do. You’re just trying to get me to let him go.” The man growled.
“I grew up there.” Chuuya gritted out the words like they were what was hurting him. “I do know more than he does, that’s not a lie.”
A long moment of silence filled the air before the man spoke again. “I don’t believe you. You both are lying to me.”
“What do we have to gain by lying?” Dazai asked, and Chuuya felt the man’s grasp on the knife falter slightly.
“Eight years ago, when that explosion happened, I was working in the testing facility. Using my ability, I was able to get out of the building and into an underground bunker, where I stayed for months. I had a family, a home, a job… and all of it was taken from me because the government wanted intel on Arahabaki. I tried for years to tell them to stop. That the singularity they were so desperate in their search for wasn’t worth it. But I was just some low level worker. What was I to know, right? Then, I learn that Arahabaki is actually some kid! That the government had stolen someone’s child off their doorstep and threw him in a testing chamber and left him there.”
Chuuya could feel all of the blood draining from his body, unrelated to the wound in his skin. Stolen?
He had been…kidnapped?
At that moment, a very distinct memory came flooding into his mind. One that he didn’t know he had. He could see the face of his mother, smiling down at him as he lay in the grass. He was out of breath, small giggles still trying to escape his lungs as she leaned over him, fingers quickly working to tickle his sides. ‘Mama! Can’t breathe!’ He squealed out. As she collapsed to the ground next to him, she gathered him into her arms and began to hum a tune to him. The vibration of her body worked to soothe his aching belly.
It was a similar ache that brought him back to the present moment.
“That is why,” the man growled as he spoke. He yanked Chuuya around to face him by the handle of the knife, and Chuuya felt a scream of pain leave his throat at the jarring treatment. As he turned him, he brought that hand up to Chuuya’s throat, squeezing as he lifted his head to help Chuuya look him in the eye. “That’s why I’m going to kill you. When I caught word that the Port Mafia had picked up a new stray, I started looking into it. Why would the mafia want another child in their ranks? But that damn rabbit hole kept getting deeper and deeper, and then I realized— you aren’t just any normal kid, are you, Chuuya Nakahara? You are the reincarnation of Arahabaki himself. And that devil deserves to die for the sins he has committed! Do you know how long I have been searching for—“
A gunshot rattled the windows of the warehouse. The man whipped around, his grip loosening on Chuuya’s throat. That same hand came to his shoulder, pressing gently to the new wound there. Chuuya stumbled slightly as he was forced to stand on his own, gasping heavily, the new viewpoint allowing him to see Dazai standing in front of the man, a gun in his outstretched hand, faint wisps of smoke trailing from the barrel. Chuuya hadn’t heard Dazai move, and, based on the reaction from the man in front of him, neither had he.
“You. You’re no ordinary kid either, are you, Osamu Dazai? Demon prodigy of Yokohama.” The laugh that fell from the man’s lips sent a chill down Chuuya’s spine, and the horrified look on his face must have sent Dazai into a panic as well.
“What do you want, sir.” Dazai asked, his attitude much more serious. The jokes were gone, the facade was off. Danger lurked in every molecule of the air they breathed into their lungs. Dazai’s body, though he lowered his arm into a natural state, was anything but relaxed. Chuuya could see as he ground his teeth together and squared his jaw, his hands flexing as he stood. He made an effort to make himself seem bigger, and based on the moment of hesitance from the man, the intimidation tactic was working.
“I want this kid dead. And once he’s dead, I'll kill you. You two can go chase each other’s tails in Hell.”
Dazai’s head fell slightly to the side, and a sinister smile crossed his lips. “Is that so?” He pressed the release button on the side of the gun and the chamber fell into his hand. While maintaining complete eye contact with the man, Dazai popped the bullets out, one by one, until they were in a scattered pile at his feet.
The man gave Dazai an amused look. “Was that supposed to be scary? Do you not think I came here with a back up plan?” He pulled his coat off to the side to reveal another gun, pulling it out and resting it in his hand. “You have just disarmed yourself, and I now have the vantage point.”
Chuuya waited for Dazai’s reaction. There wasn’t one.
Dazai stood completely still, almost as if he hadn’t heard him speak. That was when Chuuya saw it—The slight glint of a metal object hidden within Dazai’s hand. Dazai let his eyes subtly dart down to the pile of bullets on the floor, almost in question.
‘Can you do it?’ His eyes seemed to ask.
A shallow nod was given in response. Dazai’s typical mirth seemed to rejoin them as he let out a slight chuckle, taking a few quick steps towards their current enemy before he could react. The man stiffened, and, as expected, yanked Chuuya back around to stand in front of him, this time aiming the gun he held into Chuuya’s shoulder.
Dazai sighed. “Oh no, whatever shall I do without my precious slug? Don’t take him away from me!” He snarked. The man pulled the trigger. Chuuya could feel the world slow down around him as the bullet dug through his skin, lodging itself into the bone beneath. He let out a scream, not able to tell if it was a cry for help, or the resignation that he would have to deal with this pain a bit longer.
Dazai seemed perplexed. It was like he hadn’t actually expected the idiot in front of him to shoot Chuuya. A pang of guilt flashed through his eyes, and then, as if someone was controlling Dazai with a remote, all expression in his body left. “You can either drop your gun, and I will drag you to the boss for penance and reconciliation, or, if you’d prefer, you can keep holding that gun to Chuuya, and I will personally make you watch every news report as they find different parts of your body in different prefectures for the next several months.”
Chuuya felt a shiver go down his spine. He wasn’t even the target of the threat, and he had barely even heard it over the rushing of blood he could feel in his ears, or Arahabaki screeching in anguish, but damn. Osamu Dazai, the Demon Prodigy of Yokohama, was not one to be messed with. It wasn’t long till Dazai was close enough to Chuuya to touch, and it seemed that the man hadn’t truly noticed.
Chuuya’s captor retracted slightly as he considered his choices. Neither were great, and with his sole purpose coming here being his drive to kill Chuuya, he couldn’t exactly let this opportunity go to waste. “Bring it on, wannabe boss-man. You don’t scare me.”
”Clearly I do,” Dazai started, his eyes moving from the man to Chuuya, as he pulled back slightly out of reach. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have just let me get so close. You don’t know what I can do. You don’t know what I am capable of. You don’t know how to predict my moves, or how to keep yourself out of my reach. So, allow me to quickly educate you.”
Dazai lunged off to the side of the man quicker than the man could blink. It was almost like he had gained the ability to teleport, with how swift his moves were. Almost instantly, Dazai was behind him, grabbing his arm and pulling it back behind the man’s body to the point of a possible shoulder dislocation. The gun clattered to the floor between him and Dazai, and Chuuya knew exactly what Dazai’s plan was.
Chuuya was able to get himself balanced on his feet enough to hobble a few steps away, leaning up against a pile of broken pallets and concrete rubble probably left over from when the warehouse did actual manufacturing. He made sure not to go too far, as he knew he would still be needed for the plan to succeed. As soon as he was out of reach, Dazai kicked the gun out of reach of their current location. “Here is my first lesson. Are you ready?”
The man, who had been wincing in pain since Dazai had detained him, grumbled out a few profanities before trying to look over his shoulder at the teenager behind him. “Don’t underestimate someone just because they don’t appear to be on the same level as you.” Dazai applied one very precise, sharp jab to the man’s shoulder blade, and it audibly popped out of its socket. The man howled out in pain before trying to kick Dazai’s legs out from under him. All Dazai could do was laugh.
“Lesson two. Learn when to accept your defeat.”
”I. Am not. Done here.” The man ground out, and Dazai must have found that amusing, because he smacked the man on the back like they were old friends, and then shot a look over at Chuuya.
Chuuya nodded in unsaid agreement.
“Well, you’re about to. Because my third and final lesson?” At this, Dazai yanked the man around to face him, jarring his head up to look him in the eye by kneeing him square in the jaw. “If you think that you can walk in here, injure my partner, and then walk out of here scot-free, you are sorely mistaken. No one messes with my dog, except me.”
Chuuya, who would have been touched by the sentiment in any other circumstance, willed his gift to life as he pressed his hand to the crumbled concrete next to him. It shot up into the air, and with all the energy he had left, he forced his leg up and kicked the rubble directly at the man.
The unmistakable sound of the concrete making direct contact with the man’s skull forced its way through the boy’s eardrums, and they looked at each other in disgust as Dazai stepped away from his now crumpled form on the floor. He made a show of stepping dramatically over the quickly expanding puddle of blood as he made his way to Chuuya.
It was about that time that Chuuya felt his body give up. With absolutely no warning able to leave his mouth, he slammed down onto the ground in a similar fashion to the now-dead attacker. He groaned as the pain resonated through his ribs and, consequently, into his very injured shoulder. He couldn’t even cry out in pain.
Dazai’s footsteps suddenly sounded urgent as Chuuya heard them get closer, but he had so little energy left in his frame. He attempted to lift his head to stop breathing in the dirt from the floor, but, after a failed attempt to even open his eyes, he gave up.
“Chuuya, come on. Hey, don’t fall asleep. Listen to me.” Dazai’s calm voice sounded forced. With no other way to convey to Dazai that we hadn’t actually passed out yet, he huffed out a breath more forceful than normal. “Ok. Ok, good. I’m going to flip you onto your back, ok? I need to see the bullet wound.” Dazai’s hand was suddenly under his uninjured arm, lifting him up slightly so that he didn’t touch the knife still protruding from his body to the floor, before allowing Chuuya to flop over onto his back.
Which quite hurt, thank you very much.
“Shit.” Dazai said, any dose of eloquence was lost from his voice as he poked at the stab wound first. “That’s really deep.” Chuuya could hear the rustle of clothes and then some sort of cloth was being pressed against his side. He felt Dazai lift up his legs and then shove his own leg under his butt to keep him elevated for a moment– which thoroughly confused him until he heard him scramble to unwrap a bandage from around what must have been one of his arms.
Dazai grumbled to himself as he pulled a knife out of his pants pocket, taking it to Chuuya’s shirt and cutting it open. He sucked in a breath and shoved the offending fabric out of the way before beginning to wrap his sacrificed bandage around Chuuya’s waist and the knife handle sticking out to keep as much blood in his body as possible. Not that Chuuya believed it would help at this point.
It was at this point that Chuuya started to hear it. At such a faint volume, he might not have paid it much attention, but every time Dazai leaned closer to him to pull the bandage wrap over or under him, he could make out the slightly off-putting melody that the younger boy was currently humming to himself.
And that was all fine and dandy. It shouldn’t have made any difference in Chuuya’s world– not even in the slightest. But the problem wasn’t Dazai being horribly tone deaf, or even the fact that he would occasionally mumble words out instead of humming. No, that wasn’t–
Chuuya found enough stamina to force one of his eyes open and shift his gaze towards Dazai. “Hey.” He rasped out, finding out the hard way that talking was excruciating.
Dazai shot up pin straight as he stared at Chuuya, his visible eye blown wide. Within seconds however, he returned to his typically calm facade, and he shot Chuuya a smirk. “Ah darn. And here I was hoping you’d finally kicked the bucket.”
“Right. Because you’d totally spend time bandaging a corpse.”
“Technicalities, my dear slug.” He tucked the end of the bandage under some already wrapped layers and, without warning, pulled his leg out from under Chuuya, causing him to hit the floor again.
“Horrible hospitality aside, what the hell were you singing to yourself?” Chuuya grumbled, watching as Dazai stopped moving again.
He stopped, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. It was clear that Dazai was calculating a response. However, it seemed that instead of coming up with an extravagant lie, Dazai had just decided to tell the truth. “That’s just a song I taught myself years ago. It keeps me level-headed when I need it to.”
“I know this is gonna sound ridiculous, but it sounds familiar.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Why not? I like all sorts of music.”
“No, that has nothing to do with your eclectic music taste, dipshit. It isn’t an actual song. It was a poem I found on a piece of paper in Mori’s office like two years ago when he first dragged me into his clutches.” Chuuya thought about that for a moment before slightly turning his head to look up at Dazai again. “Hey, stop moving, you buffoon. You’re gonna throw your body back into a state of shock.”
“Sing it for me.”
“What? No. I’m not some caged songbird here to amuse you.”
“Dazai, just humor me.”
Dazai let out the most dramatic sigh Chuuya had ever heard. “Fine. But if you get nightmares from my beautiful singing voice, that isn’t my problem. Got it?”
Chuuya made it his mission to roll his eyes before Dazai could look away.
Dazai moved over to the other side to start triage on his shoulder, and as he settled into place, he quietly began to sing the words to this mysterious song.
No.
There was no possible way.
No humanly possible way Dazai would know this song.
Fear bolted through his body as the words played through his brain.
In hindsight, maybe Chuuya should have just stayed curious.