Chapter Text
It was freezing.
Yokohama didn’t usually get all that cold, but it was much worse when you were soaked in the middle of winter.
Chuuya Nakahara wasn’t having a great time.
No, he hadn’t slipped in the river fifteen minutes ago. His ability would’ve saved him if he did. Why do you ask? Not because Chuuya was dripping wet, clearly not. He would never be wet in the first place. That was ridiculous and Chuuya would’ve punched anyone who said that he’d slipped.
Maybe Chuuya hadn’t chosen the best time to wander away, but in his defense, he hadn’t exactly thought things out. Still, he would never give Dazai the satisfaction of admitting that.
Chuuya muttered a curse as he stumbled over another rock. He was too exhausted to use his ability properly. Or think entirely straight. Maybe he should take a break. Just to regain his energy so he’d stop falling.
He couldn’t remember who told him it was harder to track someone if they went by river. It was just the sort of thing he picked up along the way, growing up in a gang. If the Sheep could even be called that.
An old bridge stood ahead of him, the rocks stretching above the river. Despite his aching feet, he pushed himself to reach the structure. Shelter and food. The old mantra chanted in the back of his head. Shelter and food, everything else could come later.
Chuuya collapsed against the side of the bridge. He’d been walking for far too long and hadn’t even left Yokohama. He could be going in circles, for all he knew. It wasn’t like he had a compass. Dazai usually dealt with directions and Chuuya had learned every street in Suribachi City by the time he was ten. He always knew where he was going.
It didn’t help that he didn’t know where he was going now.
“Hey, are you good?”
Chuuya looked up sharply. A young man with brown hair and messy tie was peering over the side of the bridge at him. Chuuya shoved himself to his feet, cursing that he’d been caught by surprise.
“I’m fine,” Chuuya said roughly.
The man frowned. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah, of course,” Chuuya said, rounding his shoulders. People needed to mind their own business.
“You look cold,” the man said.
“Well, it’s winter,” Chuuya said, waving his arm.
“You were sleeping under this bridge,” the man said.
“I wasn’t sleeping! I was just- resting.” Chuuya wasn’t lying. He hadn’t fallen asleep.
“Under a bridge,” the man repeated.
“It’s none of your business,” Chuuya snapped.
“Your face is bleeding,” the man pointed out. Chuuya wiped at his stinging cheek. He’d splashed it with river water, which absolutely wasn’t sanitary, but it wasn’t like he had any better options.
The man hopped on the bridge railing, jumping down next to Chuuya. Chuuya stepped back, braced to run.
“My name’s Ranpo,” the man said, sticking his hand out. He didn’t look as old as Chuuya had thought. He couldn’t have been older than twenty.
“Chuuya.” He pointedly slipped his hands in his jacket pockets. Ranpo didn’t look offended at the refusal.
“So, Chuuya, how’d you get stuck out here?” Ranpo asked.
“I was just going for a walk.” Chuuya turned back the way he’d come. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going back now.”
“Back where?” Ranpo asked. Chuuya came to a sharp stop.
“None of your business,” Chuuya said, hesitating a moment too long.
“Ranpo!”
Chuuya glanced back. There was an old man standing on the bridge now, looking at the two of them.
“That’s Fukuzawa,” Ranpo said, jerking his thumb at the man. “He’s my boss.”
“Who are you bothering now, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa asked, crossing his arms.
“This homeless kid,” Ranpo said, pointing at Chuuya.
“I'm not homeless!” Chuuya shouted.
“Well, you don’t have anywhere to go,” Ranpo said.
Chuuya gritted his teeth. “Yes, I do.”
“Then why did you keep walking when you got cut?” Ranpo asked, tilting his head.
“Maybe my home is that way, did you think about that?” Chuuya asked, throwing his hand forward.
“You turned around when you said you were going back,” Ranpo said.
Chuuya blinked. Nothing got past this guy. It was almost like Dazai. How infuriating.
“You should come back to the Agency with us!” Ranpo said brightly.
“What?” Chuuya was physically taken aback. “Where?”
“We run a detective agency,” Fukuzawa filled in for him. “We could give you a bandage for your face.”
“I don’t live that far from here,” Chuuya muttered. The last thing he needed was to get mixed up with cops. Chuuya would never hear the end of it from Kouyou, let alone from Dazai.
“Your legs are shaking. You’ve been walking for hours, at least,” Ranpo said.
“Or maybe I’m just cold,” Chuuya said aggressively. “A cut on my face isn’t going to kill me.”
“Hypothermia will,” Ranpo said. “You fell in the river, didn’t you?”
“No, I went swimming,” Chuuya said sarcastically.
“You’ll get sick if you stay in the cold with wet clothes for too long,” Fukuzawa said.
Chuuya wanted to say no, he really did. He was in the Port Mafia. He didn’t need some detectives’ pity. He didn’t need anyone’s help.
However, it was the middle of winter, he was drenched, bleeding, and even thinking of the nearest mafia hideout made him want to throw up.
“Fine.”
///
“Drop. It,” Chuuya snarled.
Ranpo frowned. “Come on, it’s just a blanket. Aren’t you cold?”
“Not after the last five you handed me,” Chuuya said, gesturing to the blankets already piled on his lap.
“Well, one can never have too many blankets,” Ranpo said, draping a sixth over Chuuya’s shoulders.
“I’m going to die of heat exhaustion,” Chuuya said monotonely.
“You’re going to die of regular exhaustion," Ranpo countered.
“I’m resting, what else do you want from me?” Chuuya asked.
“Hmm…” Ranpo tapped his chin. “Oh! Quit being so angry. It’s using up too much of your energy.”
“I’m not angry!” Chuuya yelled.
“Right,” Ranpo said slowly. Chuuya just glared at him.
They were in the office of the Armed Detective Agency. Chuuya could remember some faint whispers about the company, but nothing quite concrete. They weren’t a large operation, according to Ranpo. There were only a few members, of which, Ranpo claimed to be the most important. Chuuya made the decision to not comment.
Fukuzawa had taken Chuuya’s clothes to be dried while Chuuya had been given a set of someone else’s pajamas to wear. They were bright pink, which Ranpo had explained through giggles were the only thing that could fit Chuuya. They were still too big, but Ranpo had yet to make a comment on Chuuya’s height, so he was letting it pass.
A young woman with black hair stepped into the room, finally taking Ranpo’s attention off him. She grinned when she saw Chuuya.
“So, you’re the squirt,” the woman said.
“Why don’t you say that again?” Chuuya asked, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t exactly in the best position, buried in blankets and holding a cup of hot chocolate, but he could still fight if he wanted to.
“Blame Ranpo. He’s the one who said he needed my old clothes for some kid he picked up,” the woman said. “Surprised me, honestly. Usually Fukuzawa’s the one picking up orphans.”
“I’m not an orphan!” Chuuya said, a bite to his tone.
The woman held her hands up. “Didn’t mean to assume. You just look like one.”
“How does one ‘look like’ an orphan?” Chuuya asked.
“Wandering around drenched in the middle of the winter, all cut up? Sounds like an orphan to me,” the woman said.
“I wasn’t all cut up. It was one cut,” Chuuya said.
“I can fix that for you,” the woman offered, her smile dangerously sharp. Ranpo was standing behind her, furiously shaking his head.
“I’m fine,” Chuuya said, rubbing his cheek. He’d been content to just slap a bandage on it, but Fukuzawa had made him clean it out with alcohol. “It’s not deep. It’ll heal in a day.”
A healing ability. Interesting. Chuuya wondered if they had anything about the Armed Detective Agency in the Port Mafia’s files. From what Ranpo had said, they’d been around for a few years now. They were certainly a strange group of people.
“That’s too bad,” the woman said, sighing. “I’m going shopping. Ranpo?”
“Gotta keep an eye on him,” Ranpo said, nodding towards Chuuya.
“I’m not a child. I don’t need a babysitter,” Chuuya said. If this had been the Port Mafia, then Chuuya would’ve understood the need to keep an eye on a stranger in their base. However, these people were weirdly trusting. It made Chuuya’s skin crawl.
“Nah, I’m just here to keep you company. I would make a wonderful babysitter, but that’s not why I’m here,” Ranpo said, flopping onto the couch next to Chuuya. Chuuya had to use his ability to keep his hot chocolate in its cup.
“He’s telling the truth, you know,” the woman said. “It’s not because you’re a kid.” Somehow, Chuuya felt like neither of them were lying. These sort of people were weird like that.
“Also about me being a great babysitter,” Ranpo added.
“You nearly made him drop a burning liquid all over himself. You’d get fired in an hour,” the woman said, rolling her eyes.
“That’s not true! Chuuya, tell Yosano she’s crazy,” Ranpo said.
“No,” Chuuya said, sipping from his hot chocolate.
“The kid learns quick,” Yosano said.
“I’m not that young,” Chuuya said.
“You’re, what, sixteen?” Ranpo said.
“Okay, there’s no way you could’ve guessed that,” Chuuya said.
“I almost went younger, but with how touchy you are about your height, I figured you were just short for your age,” Ranpo said.
“I’m still growing!” Chuuya shouted.
“O-kay,” Yosano said. “I’m leaving. See ya, squirt, Ranpo.”
“Hey!” Chuuya protested the nickname, but Yosano was already walking towards the door.
“She was being nice,” Ranpo remarked once she’d left.
“That was her being nice ?” Chuuya asked, squinting.
“Well, she only tried to heal you once, so yeah. That’s very nice,” Ranpo said.
“What was the deal with that, anyways?” Chuuya asked. He wasn’t exactly fishing for information, since he wasn’t on a job, but habits were hard to break.
“That would be an Agency secret, unfortunately,” Ranpo said. “But, luckily for you, my ability is not a secret! My ability is called Ultra Deduction, which is what makes me the greatest detective ever!”
“So that’s how you figured out so much about me,” Chuuya said, narrowing his eyes.
“Nope,” Ranpo said.
Chuuya blinked. “What?”
“I just saw that stuff. You were being pretty obvious.” Ranpo said. “My ability only works when I put on my glasses. Behold!” Ranpo held out a pair of plastic, cheap-looking glasses. Chuuya was unimpressed. “My ability only works when I put on this pair of glasses!”
“That’s not how abilities work,” Chuuya said, wrinkling his nose. How would Ranpo have gotten his hands on those specific glasses to ever figure out he had an ability? It just didn’t make sense.
“Why not? Abilities always have weird caveats, don’t they?” Ranpo said.
That was true. No one really knew exactly how abilities worked. Chuuya had never heard of anyone who needed to put on glasses to activate their ability, but it was probably possible , if not strange.
Chuuya was one to talk about strange abilities , a nasty little voice said in the back of his head. Chuuya pointedly ignored it.
“I wouldn’t know,” Chuuya answered. “Don’t have one.”
“You don’t?” Ranpo asked, tilting his head.
“What, you didn’t figure that out? I thought I was being pretty obvious,” Chuuya said sarcastically.
“It’s just that most people don’t know much about abilities unless they have one,” Ranpo said. “Or know someone who has one.”
Chuuya was constantly surrounded by people with abilities. His own ability was quickly becoming one of the most feared in the entirety of the criminal underworld.
“Something like that,” Chuuya said into his hot chocolate. Ranpo didn’t press, which was frankly surprising.
“Fukuzawa’s back,” Ranpo said. A moment later, the door to the Agency opened. Fukuzawa walked inside, handing a cloth bag to Chuuya. His freshly laundered clothes were neatly folded inside.
“Thanks,” Chuuya said. He’d like to get out of the pajamas as soon as possible, but he was also buried under a mountain of blankets, half of which Ranpo was sitting on. It’d be too difficult to get up at the moment. He’d do it later.
One would think a detective agency office would be full of yelling and shouting as people hurried around to solve their next case, but the Armed Detective Agency was peaceful. Maybe it was a slow day, maybe they were on holiday. Chuuya never asked. It didn’t really matter.
Ranpo and Fukuzawa were talking about something that Chuuya wasn’t exactly following. It was probably something business related and boring. Chuuya always got bored whenever Mori and Dazai talked in riddles. Sure, he probably could tell what they were really saying if he tried hard enough, but it wasn’t worth his effort. If they were actually saying anything important, Dazai would fill Chuuya in while he made his stupid plans.
“Ranpo, catch his hot chocolate.”
Someone pulled the cup from Chuuya’s hand, but he barely noticed. Chuuya hadn’t noticed how exhausted he was. Ranpo and Fukuzawa were talking quieter now.
Something in the back of Chuuya’s mind was screaming at him that he was being stupid. That falling asleep in a stranger’s presence was going to get him killed. That he was in the Port Mafia, that he was better than this.
But Chuuya wasn’t an idiot. If they wanted to kill him, they already would’ve tried. It wasn’t like the hot chocolate was drugged. Chuuya had already been half asleep when he was in the river.
He didn’t understand why , but the Agency didn’t have any malice towards him. Not that it mattered, either way. If they did kidnap him, he’d just escape. He doubted there was a jail that could hold him.
With that comforting thought, Chuuya fell asleep.
///
“Is he out?” Ranpo asked, peering at the teenager. He’d been half-conscious for a while, but he seemed well and truly knocked out now.
“Not so loud,” Fukuzawa said quietly. Ranpo set Chuuya’s cup of hot chocolate aside, standing up. Fukuzawa gestured towards his office. Ranpo followed him inside. Chuuya wouldn’t be able to hear them from there.
“Did you learn anything?” Fukuzawa asked.
“He was lying about some things. He didn’t want to tell us the full truth,” Ranpo said thoughtfully. Without outright using his ability, it was a little more difficult to determine exactly when Chuuya was lying, but Ranpo wasn’t the world’s greatest detective for nothing.
“Why are you so curious?” Ranpo asked, tilting his head.
Fukuzawa sighed. “It’s difficult to watch a child in need and do nothing.”
“He doesn’t want help,” Ranpo asked. “It’s a miracle he’s stayed this long. He’s got trust issues or something.”
“We cannot help those who do not want to be helped,” Fukuzawa said solemnly. “We can only do the best with what we have. Continue to do your best, Ranpo.”
“Yes sir,” Ranpo said, nodding.
“And do your best to not wake him.”
///
Chuuya woke up with the sun.
It was quiet. The mafia was always bustling at sunrise, finishing up their nighttime activities and transitioning to ‘normal’ members of society.
In the Armed Detective Agency, it was peaceful.
He’d fallen asleep sitting up, but at some point in the night, he’d sprawled across the couch. Half of the blankets had fallen to the ground.
Chuuya changed back into his own clothes in the bathroom, leaving the pajamas folded on the couch next to the stack of blankets. Just because he grew up a street kid didn’t mean that Kouyou’s lessons didn’t have any affect.
He didn’t make a sound as he started towards the door. He was hurrying a little, even though there was nothing there. There was nothing stopping him.
And yet, some suffocating feeling told him that if he didn’t leave now, he would never make it out.
That was stupid, Chuuya knew that. He blamed the paranoia on Dazai, personally. It was easier to blame everything on Dazai. That way, he could pretend that Dazai was the only problem in his life.
Chuuya hesitated at the door. What if it was trapped? What if someone was waiting for him outside? After a night of rest, he could take anyone on, but they were in the middle of a populated street. Even this early in the morning, there was bound to be people around.
No, that wasn’t an issue for Chuuya. He could get out perfectly fine. There was nothing that should keep him from leaving.
Then why was he hesitating?
“No one’s going to stop you, you know.”
Chuuya froze, slowly turning around. Ranpo was sitting at a desk, his feet kicked up as he read a file.
“When did you-”
“I knew you were going to leave early,” Ranpo interrupted. “Like I said, you’re pretty obvious.”
“You said no one was going to stop me,” Chuuya said.
“We’re not keeping you hostage,” Ranpo said. “We just want you to be safe.”
Chuuya scoffed. “Why do you care? I’m just some kid.”
“I know what it feels like,” Ranpo said. He wasn’t looking at Chuuya. “Sleeping outside during cold nights. Not knowing where your next meal is coming from. I was an orphan for a little while before Fukuzawa took me in, you know.”
“I’m not an orphan,” Chuuya said. His voice wasn’t as hostile this time. He didn’t know why.
The Armed Detective Agency was a strange place. Somewhere they’d take in a kid just because they thought they knew what he was going through. The mafia would take in a kid, but only if they’d be of use. That was why Chuuya had been recruited in the first place. Because he was useful .
Ranpo flipped to the next page of his file. “Then by all means, go home.”
“I will,” Chuuya said, raising his chin. He spun on his heel, heading for the exit. His hand was on the doorknob when Ranpo spoke again.
“Chuuya, if you ever need help, you can always stop by,” Ranpo said.
“I’m fine.”
Chuuya shut the door behind himself with no intention of ever opening it again.
The Agency had reminded him. He had a family already. Just because he was a risk to everyone there didn’t mean that anything was going to happen. As long as Chuuya kept a level head, everyone would be fine. As long as he could protect everyone this time, everything would be fine. As long as he didn’t let his guard down, everything would be fine.
As long as Chuuya was good enough, he wouldn’t have any more of his friends’ blood on his hands and he wouldn’t have any more gravestones to visit.
///
“What happened to the kid?” Yosano asked as she stepped into an entirely too-silent Agency. Ranpo was staring at a file, but she could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the words on the page.
“He left.”
“To go where?” Yosano asked. “I thought you said he was homeless.”
“He said he had somewhere to go,” Ranpo said, closing the file.
“And you believed him?” Yosano asked, crossing her arms. Ranpo wasn’t always the best with people, but he could tell when they were lying.
“He was telling the truth, as far as I could tell. He had a home,” Ranpo said.
“Then why was he wandering around in the cold yesterday?” Yosano asked, dropping into the chair next to Ranpo.
“He ran away,” Ranpo said. “Something here convinced him to go home.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Yosano asked, tilting her head. Ranpo didn’t usually act like this. He was arrogant and loud, not quiet. The squirt must’ve left an impression on him.
“I hope so,” Ranpo said.
“Are you going to look into him?” Yosano asked. Ranpo slowly set down the folder that had been in his hands. Yosano recognized the stamp on the cover. It was a file from the government.
“Are you supposed to have that?” Yosano asked.
“Nope,” Ranpo said. “It’s useless, though. No mention of a Chuuya anywhere in the records I’ve combed through so far.”
“You’re actually looking through records?” Yosano asked, raising her eyebrows. Ranpo usually did everything he could to avoid doing actual work. He just used his ‘ability’ to figure out anything he wanted.
“Even my ability can’t tell me everything about someone’s past just by spending an afternoon with them,” Ranpo grumbled.
“You have faults? Wow, you never mentioned. I mean, I already knew, obviously, but you admitting it?” Yosano’s grin was a little more than smug.
“Shut up. I’m a great detective!” Ranpo said, smacking his hand on the table. “Ow.”
“Need me to fix that for you?” Yosano’s grin grew wider.
“No! No, no, I’ve got to tell the president that Chuuya left,” Ranpo said, scrambling back. He nearly tripped over his own chair in his haste. Yosano just laughed at his retreat.
She sent a sideways glance at the couch Chuuya had stayed on. Ranpo couldn’t find records for him. It had only been a day, so there wasn’t much to worry about, but… it was certainly strange.
Yosano stood. Ranpo was never wrong. Chuuya had a home to go back to.
She could only hope it was a good one.
///
“Boss?” Ranpo asked, knocking on the president’s door before pushing it open. Fukuzawa was at his desk, doing some kind of paperwork.
“Yes, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa asked, his pen pausing.
“Chuuya left,” Ranpo said, walking into the room. Fukuzawa sighed, setting down his pen.
“I expected as much. He was jumpy. Any luck with the background check?”
“Nothing yet, but I’ll find something soon enough. There’s a lot of kids in Yokohama,” Ranpo said.
“Why are you so interested, Ranpo? You don’t usually involve yourself in the matters of strange children,” Fukuzawa said.
“You asked me to look,” Ranpo said.
“I know you, Ranpo. There’s something more than that,” Fukuzawa said.
Ranpo stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “I dunno. Just something about him. He’s important.”
Fukuzawa hummed. “Keep looking. Let me know once you find something.”
“Yes, sir,” Ranpo said, nodding politely before leaving the office.
Chuuya was an interesting case. Ranpo hadn’t thought much of him at first. Just some random kid sleeping under a bridge. But the more Ranpo learned about him, the more curious he became.
Most people weren’t good at hiding anything from Ranpo. Chuuya couldn’t hide everything, but there was enough of a mystery around him that made Ranpo wonder why. Maybe it was an unrealized ability, or someone else’s ability. Chuuya had alluded to as much. Ranpo should look through gifted directories next, see if he could find Chuuya related to anyone in there.
Usually, Ranpo would be frustrated by having to do ‘real’ work, but this time, at least it was interesting. His favorite cases were when something was interesting. If it wasn’t, he did his best to pawn it off to Fukuzawa or Yosano, but unfortunately, since he was the greatest detective ever, he had to do most of the work around here. It was a good thing he liked being a detective.
Every now and again, cases would come along that truly interested Ranpo. It was rare for him to take much time to solve a case, but maybe Chuuya would be the exception here.
How curious.
///
No one gave Chuuya a second glance as he walked through the mafia’s territory. He was known well enough by now for no one to question him. The sun was rising high in the sky, leaving only the most legal of the mafia’s operations functioning. Most mafia members would be going to sleep soon.
“There you are!”
Chuuya groaned before slowly turning around. “Do I already have you deal with you?”
“You’ve been missing for two days!” Dazai said, jabbing Chuuya’s chest. Chuuya smacked his hand away.
“What’s it to you?” Chuuya snarked.
“You think you can just blow off your job for two days? I had to pick up the slack!” Dazai complained. Chuuya kept walking. Dazai followed after him, annoyingly.
“What were you doing?” Dazai asked.
“None of your business,” Chuuya said.
“As your partner, it’s totally my business,” Dazai said.
“You only use that title when it suits you. We only work together because Mori makes us,” Chuuya said. “I don’t have to tell you anything about my personal life.”
“You’re a high-ranking member in the mafia. You don’t have a personal life,” Dazai said. “I could figure it out if I wanted, but it’d be easier if you just told me.”
“Since when was I interested in making your life easier?” Chuuya asked.
“Since I covered for you with Kouyou,” Dazai said. Chuuya came to an abrupt stop. Dazai ran into him.
“You what?” Chuuya asked.
“Kouyou was getting on my case about where you were so I told her that you were working a mission for me,” Dazai said flippantly. “She wasn’t happy about it, but she quit asking.”
“Why did you do that?” Chuuya asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Because I’m just your best friend,” Dazai said. “Your best and only friend.”
“I have other friends,” Chuuya said, unimpressed.
“Name them,” Dazai said.
The names that jumped to Chuuya’s mind didn’t make it past his lips.
Dead people didn’t count as friends, after all.
“My friends aren’t any of your business, and you didn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart,” Chuuya said. As if there was a heart under the dark coat and bandages that made up Osamu Dazai.
Dazai sighed, but his grin was sharp. “You’re right. I did it because you owe me, now.”
“Says who? You’re the one who lied to Kouyou,” Chuuya said.
“Are you going to tell her that you ran away?” Dazai’s visible eye was alight with malice.
“You don’t know that,” Chuuya snapped.
“Sure I do,” Dazai said lightly. There was a pep in his step, as though all of this amused him. “You left right after the mission report. Was it about using Corruption? What was it like? Did it scare you?”
“For the last time, it’s none of your business!” Chuuya yelled. Dazai had already asked a thousand questions about Corruption. Chuuya hadn’t answered any of them. Dazai’s job was to stop him. That was it. He didn’t need any other information.
(He didn’t need to know about the screaming Chuuya could hear, he didn’t need to know how it felt to be a puppet in your own body, he didn’t need to know how it felt to have your own ability rip your skin apart and have to stare at the scars afterwards, he didn’t need to know how it felt that his men died because of him and he didn’t get to know.)
Dazai didn’t want to know because he cared about him. Dazai wanted to know because he was ‘fascinated’ by Chuuya’s ability, whatever that meant.
(It always reminded Chuuya a bit too much like that laboratory. How fascinating his ability must’ve been to the scientists there.)
Dazai pouted. “No need to get all huffy about it. Fine, I won’t tell Kouyou, but you still owe me one.”
“You already owed me for saving you on our last job,” Chuuya said.
“Well, then I saved you right back! So we’re even on that front,” Dazai said entirely too cheerily. Chuuya gave him a side eye.
Dazai had gotten himself into danger. Chuuya had to use Corruption to get him out of it, or he would’ve died. That’s why the incident had happened.
(Had Dazai done it on purpose?)
“It’s your job to stop me. That’s why you’re here,” Chuuya said, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets.
“I’m here because Mori made me, same as you. It’s our jobs to save each other,” Dazai said.
“Would Mori fire me if I killed you right now?” Chuuya wondered out loud as he shouldered a door open.
“Probably, but he might just promote you for being crafty enough to finally do it,” Dazai said “Would not recommend. He makes me do so much boring crap. Kouyou’s a better boss.”
“I thought you didn’t like that Kouyou was my boss,” Chuuya said.
“I don’t like that I’m not your boss. It would be so much funnier if I could boss you around,” Dazai said.
“Never happening,” Chuuya said, pressing the call button for the elevator.
“Come on, you follow my plans. That’s already one step.”
“Only because you plan everything months in advance. Your plans work. If it wasn’t going to work, then we’d do something different,” Chuuya said. “Besides, I help you make half those plans.”
“You just stand there while I tell you the plans,” Dazai accused childishly. Chuuya stepped ahead of him into the elevator. Unfortunately, Dazai joined him.
“I’m the main point of every plan,” Chuuya said.
“Because you’re the strongest. Who else am I supposed to use?” Dazai asked.
“Did you actually want something important, or did you just want to blackmail me about the Kouyou thing?” Chuuya asked, crossing his arms.
“You’re really not going to tell me where you went?” Dazai asked, tilting his head.
“You already said it. I ran away because I was upset with the mission,” Chuuya said. “The mission that you screwed up.”
“But you came back,” Dazai said.
“Oh, really? I didn’t notice,” Chuuya said dryly. “Do you mind?”
They were standing outside Chuuya’s apartment. Dazai blinked owlishly, as if he hadn’t noticed where they were going the entire time.
“My bad,” Dazai said, spinning around. “I’ve got a new method of suicide to try. It’s where you drink this mixture where you take bleach and-”
“Don’t care,” Chuuya said, unlocking his door. Dazai kept going on about his newest stupid idea. He’d never actually do it. He’d been making suicidal claims ever since Chuuya met him, but somehow failed at every turn.
It was too bad, really. Chuuya’s life would be so much easier without Dazai in it.
(Then again, there’d be nothing to stop him from hurting people.)
///
Dazai looked up at Chuuya’s apartment from the ground. He was certainly acting strange, but that was just Chuuya. He’d never randomly disappeared before, but Dazai didn’t care enough to keep constant track of Chuuya’s location. He was bugging him about it to make him annoyed, more than anything. As long as Chuuya was annoyed, Dazai was happy.
He was the slightest bit curious, though. He knew why Chuuya had come back. He was loyal to a fault. The mafia was the only place that had never betrayed him. He’d always come back to it, in the end. Chuuya was predictable in that way, if nothing else.
What Dazai was curious about was where, exactly, Chuuya had run off to. He didn’t have any family or connections outside of the mafia. Had he just slept on the streets? Dazai wouldn’t put it past him in all reality, but it didn’t quite make sense.
Chuuya was the most predictable person Dazai knew and yet, somehow always managed to surprise him.
Dazai’s coat flared as he turned away.
///
“Oh, Chuuya, when did you return from your… mission?” Kouyou asked, doing a double take as she passed Chuuya. He hadn’t slept since he got back from the Agency. He’d been avoiding running into anyone for as long as possible.
“Just this morning,” Chuuya said, not quite looking at her.
“What was he having you do, again? It’s not often you listen to his orders,” Kouyou said.
“Something stupid. He was just being an idiot, like always,” Chuuya said evenly.
“Well, I’m glad you’re back in one piece. Next time, do remember to inform me before you follow his orders,” Kouyou said. “Now, come along, we have work to do.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chuuya said, hurrying after her. He could tell that she didn’t entirely believe Dazai’s claims, but if neither of them were going to tell her the truth, she had no avenue to find it.
Chuuya still didn’t know why Dazai was covering for him, but he knew the mackerel was going to make Chuuya regret it at some point.