Work Text:
Yosano’s long day has finally come to an end, much to her content.
It was a productive one, filled with the joyous screams of Tanizaki as she stitched him back together, the whimpers of Atsushi as his bones popped back into place, and the pleasant chatter and thank yous from Kenji as she bandaged a couple scratches he received on the mission all of them had been on.
Nothing could top days like these, aside from a shopping trip or maybe ‘fixing’ their enemies with her chainsaw.
Down the hall, she can hear the other members of the Agency packing their belongings as the day comes to a close. No major incidents aside from the boys’ mission had occurred, leaving the Agency in a peaceful atmosphere that rarely comes by.
She’s just locked the cabinet of medicine and knives that she keeps away from Dazai when a bang rings out from down the hall, followed by heavy footsteps running towards the door of the infirmary.
There’s only enough time to look up when the infirmary door is practically kicked off its hinges, another bang sounding throughout the office as it slams into the wall and leaves a dent.
There, in the doorway with the most panicked look Yosano has ever seen on him, stands Dazai Osamu holding the body of none other than Port Mafia Executive Nakahara Chuuya.
The redhead is covered head-to-toe in blood that looks to be his, dripping down Dazai’s trench coat as the latter clutches him to his chest in a near death-grip. The executive is completely limp in his arms, and from here Yosano would call him dead already if not for the painful, labored breathing coming out from his mouth. It sounds as if one of his lungs has collapsed, filled with fluid, and the other is quickly on the way.
This was not the ‘fixing’ she had in mind.
“Absolutely not,” she says sternly, tone leaving no room for persuasion as she stands up.
This is Nakahara Chuuya they’re talking about, after all. Mori’s right hand man and the Agency’s least-favorite Ability user to deal with due to his overwhelming power and tendency to yell the whole time at or about Dazai.
Deep down, she knows she should help him — really, she does — but she also knows the consequences that can come from helping the Mafia, helping Mori, and her people will always come first, no matter what.
Despite her standing in the way, Dazai ignores her, bypassing with a swift motion to lay Nakahara on the nearest infirmary bed. The sheets instantly soak with blood, a stark contrast to the pearly white of the rest of the room.
Before she has a chance to protest further, Dazai takes a deep breath and pins her down with piercing eyes, practically pleading, “Yosano.”
Only a millisecond passes before she hears Ranpo call from down the hallway, “Akiko!”
She moves for a variety of reasons. One, she’s not heard Ranpo sound like that in a long time. Two, in his two years of working here, she’s never heard Dazai use that tone, period.
He sounds scared, terrified of what can happen if she doesn’t help, and when she meets eyes with him, it’s like she is staring at the child that died in Dazai long ago; the child who is currently watching his world crash around him as his reason to live is dying in front of his eyes.
With that thought, she realizes: to protect her people — to save Dazai — she has to help Nakahara right now.
“Move,” she commands, shoving Dazai onto the cot beside Nakahara’s and making sure she’s nowhere near the nullifier’s limbs. There’s no need to look over Nakahara’s injuries as she grabs his wrist, gasping at the lack of pulse. A hand to his neck leads to the realization that he’s already fading, pulse so weak she doesn’t hesitate before activating her ability.
“Thou Shalt Not Die!”
Butterflies fly to Nakahara’s body like moths to a light, coaxing the wounds to stitch themselves shut, and leaving a bloody, but living, body on her cot. Yosano doesn’t have to glance at Dazai to see him take a breath of relief. She feels it in the way the tension in the room dissolves with her butterflies.
She forces her shoulders to relax, turning to face Dazai. His gaze is still fixed on Nakahara, never leaving throughout the whole ordeal, the devotion of a suicidal man to death appearing as though a dog to its master with how Dazai looks at Nakahara.
“What the hell happened?” She can’t help but ask as she crosses her arms across her chest. For a Port Mafia executive to get that injured, especially Nakahara, something dearly grave must have happened, and Yosano wonders how the man wasn’t already dead.
In front of her, Dazai blinks a few times, coming back to the present from whatever thought he was trapped in.
He glances to the side at her then, in a move that leaves Yosano stunned, bows his head far lower than Yosano’s ever seen him do before, and whispers, “Thank you,” the genuine gratitude in his voice clear as day.
Perhaps there is another reason for why Yosano had saved Nakahara. Seeing this side of Dazai, one without the masks and the acts, is worth it.
Attempting to hide her shock, she returns a small “You’re welcome.”
Then, as if her own world hadn’t just stopped and slowly begun to spin again, she turns on her heel, heading towards the door to tackle all the questions from the other members she’s sure are brimming.
For Dazai Osamu, man of many faces and none of them real, to show a true, valid emotion of gratitude… Nakahara Chuuya must be a very special individual.
At the door, she gazes back to find Dazai staring at Nakahara again, body taut with emotions Yosano would never have expected out of the man.
“I trust you not to break into the cabinet,” she says and shuts the door.
Dazai wakes with a start when he hears the infirmary door opening and closing as quietly as possible. Doesn’t bother to life his head either, eyes barely cracked open to watch as Yosano walks to her desk and sets down a half-empty drink carrier of take-out coffee. That means there’s at least two other people besides them in the office now.
He knows it’s early morning based on the slivers of light peeking through the blinds to cast gentle glows along the room’s interior. He sits in a chair pulled up beside Chuuya’s bed, upper body curled on top of the bed to rest upon the mattress space that the redhead doesn’t occupy.
Yosano performs a brief inspection of her locked cabinet to confirm he didn’t mess around with it. Then, her gaze turns on Chuuya, and Dazai shuts his eyes, acting the part of being sleep as his breaths remain even.
Footsteps come closer before a soft hand lands on his head, smoothing some of his hair down. “I know you’re awake.”
Dazai chooses to bury his face further into his bundled arms, resolving to ignore the world for now.
“Fine, be that way. I’ve got a decaf cafe latte ready for when you want to overdose on sugar.”
Her heels click back towards her desk. There’s a slight rummage of papers being moved around and the pop of a coffee cup coming out of the carrier. Just as fast as she had come, Yosano is back out the door, leaving Dazai with Chuuya and the quiet room, apart from the steady drips of the IV attached to Chuuya.
With a groan, he partially sits up, pushing his back towards the ceiling and his hands into the bed, feeling and hearing his back crackle. He blinks his eyes open, glancing at the sleeping beauty in front of him, clear of blood and pain — peaceful in a way only deep, sound sleep can make. The light from the window highlights Chuuya’s red hair in a halo, igniting a fire both in front of Dazai’s eyes and in his heart.
God, he’d almost been too late. Had been too late if not for Yosano’s healing ability. He owes her so much.
To think if Chuuya had died, he wouldn’t see this view. Wouldn’t have Chuuya next to him. Would never hear him again and it’d be all his fault—
Stop, Dazai.
There’s no time to ponder the what-ifs. Chuuya is here, and it most definitely is Dazai’s fault. End of story.
He watches as the sun continues to cast its rays against Chuuya’s sleeping face, admiring the perfect image that is his partner.
Well, ex-partner.
It’s when the sun’s beams fully hit the opposite wall, disappearing from Chuuya’s face, that Dazai finally takes his eyes away from the sight.
He stands up, walking with a small limp to Yosano’s desk to grab the by-now lukewarm decaf she’d mentioned. His body feels fatigued as he sips at the drink, continuing to keep watch over Chuuya’s body.
The memories of last night plague him in recurring scenes.
They’d been assigned a mission, a simple one: take down an organization like the good old days and leave. And it would’ve been simple, except a fight broke out in two different ways - one between them and their enemies that had prepared a sneak attack and one between Soukoku.
It had ended with Chuuya using Corruption longer than expected because Dazai had gotten a deep slice wound on his calf from a thought-to-be dead enemy who had precisely raised his knife the moment Dazai ran past him.
Dazai had tripped before shooting the man in the head, a total of five seconds lost there. Thanks to this strike though, he’d been slower in getting to Chuuya, who’d moved to the other side of the warehouse they were in by that point. It’d taken him far too long to reach the supposed slug, whose unconscious form was craftier than normal — as if it knew Dazai would end its reign of destruction.
By the time he’d gotten a hold of Chuuya — a feat that involved him jumping high enough on his bad leg to reach Chuuya’s bared ankle — the time lost had been immense and should have been easily avoidable if Dazai hadn’t assumed that singular enemy dead.
Chuuya had crashed into him after that nullifying touch, sending them both straight to the dirty floor as Dazai took the brunt of the impact to his head and back while protecting as much of Chuuya’s vital areas as possible. The pressure sent into his bad leg hadn’t helped the fall, forcing further blood loss, though Dazai hadn’t really felt it.
Rushing on adrenaline, he’d carried Chuuya to the nearest place they could receive help — that being Yosano’s infirmary. Dazai stumbled multiple times along the way, delaying Yosano’s assistance even more. He hadn’t felt the wound at all by that point, too focused on saving Chuuya, only the occasional twinge of pain when his leg tried to give up on him.
After guaranteeing with his own eyes that Chuuya was safe last night, the pain had started to catch up with him fast as he crashed. Yosano hadn’t noticed the wound on the back of his calf — hidden by his coat and Chuuya’s blood — to stitch him up or she was giving him space, so he had done it himself after she left, finding the tools in the drawers meant for emergencies that she didn’t lock up. She’d made him promise, even though he’s beyond untrustworthy with such things, to not use the items in the drawers for any attempts.
He’s, surprisingly, stuck by his word on this so far.
He’d then cleaned Chuuya up and removed his outer clothes, keeping him in his boxers. There’d been a blanket in the storage closet that Dazai decided he’d pay Yosano back for later, and tossed it on top of Chuuya after switching the redhead over to the mostly clean cot infirmary bed beside him.
His memory blacks out a little after that point. He’d meant to change the sheets of the ruined bed — something he should’ve done after throwing the blanket on Chuuya — but he must’ve instead grabbed a chair and brought it to the side of the clean bed to sleep in. His half-unconscious state at least knew to not get in the same bed with the redhead.
There’s footsteps coming back down the hall again, gaining his attention. The door creaks open, Yosano and Ranpo sticking their heads in. They meet his eyes, asking for silent permission, before pushing the door the rest of the way open and sneaking in.
The door shuts, and Dazai’s shoulders drop.
Though he’s not overly close to them and they don’t know him like Chuuya does, they’ve seen him in the aftermath of his more serious attempts and during a few drinking sessions. Letting them see the aftermath of all this — especially after seeing the lowest of it — isn’t the worst situation he can think of. Chuuya might not like it later once he finds out, but Dazai also can’t hold Yosano’s infirmary hostage from her. There’s no way he could hide any of this from Ranpo, anyway.
“How long is he usually out?” Yosano asks. Dazai can see her doing a mini mental checkup on Chuuya. He understands that it’s not that she doesn’t trust Dazai not to take care of him, she just can’t not do it when there’s a patient — enemy or not — in one of her beds.
“I’d estimate three to four days for this one,” Dazai says, taking another sip of his coffee, his eyes going back to Chuuya. After a moment, he murmurs, “It’s the furthest I’ve ever let Corruption go on for.”
“You didn’t willingly let it go on,” Ranpo chimes, plopping himself on the cleanest part of the other bed, scrunching his nose up at the blood still clinging to the sheets.
“But it still did.” Dazai’s eyes don’t leave Chuuya’s body, an intensity in them that he usually doesn’t let out. He can feel the spiral his mind desperately wants to go down, creeping in on him. But he can’t let it yet, not until Chuuya is awake and conscious, and then Dazai can go back to the masks like there isn’t guilt eating him through. For now, he has the cold, hard facts to deal with.
After a moment, Yosano suggests, “Why don’t you work on some reports to fill the time while you wait for him to wake up?”
He should do it. As much as he hates such boring tasks, some of his coworkers have noticed that, when his darker thoughts are stronger, he usually ends up working more. Dazai nods, and Yosano takes it as a sign to leave the room for a moment to gather some files for him to do.
“Dazai.” Ranpo’s voice cuts into the air, tone deadly serious. “It’s not your fault.”
Ah, he’s attempting to comfort. Pity, Dazai doesn’t need nor want it.
The other man’s eyes are on him, open and analyzing every little thing — the beep of the monitor, Dazai’s breathing, the very essence of the room captured around them.
Dazai doesn’t usually mind Ranpo’s way of analyzing, much too used to it after two years. The first time had shocked him, and he came to learn quickly that nothing can be hidden from the other for long. Knowing now that he can’t hide, he opts to ignore the other, focusing his attention on Chuuya in front of him.
Eventually, Yosano walks back in, carrying a worthy stack of reports that will have Dazai busy for at least the remainder of the work day. She sets them on her desk, back rigid as she fails to not grimace at the atmosphere the two geniuses have created around them.
With a deep breath, she says, “Pick where you want to work. I’ve got a few things to check up on first before I’ll be back.”
Ranpo takes this as his cue to exit the room without another word. Yosano follows, giving a sympathetic look back at Dazai that has him scowling on the inside before she goes on her way to check up on the rest of the Agency.
It makes Dazai’s insides boil long after. It’s not anger at her, never could be after what she did for him, for Chuuya, last night.
It’s at himself. Always will be.
He doesn’t deserve kindness and care after what he’s done and almost did.
Chuuya had trusted him despite every reason not to, and Dazai almost had him killed due to his own ignorance and negligence.
He’d miscalculated, a fatal mistake that almost cost the life of his lo— dog. He should’ve known there was a surprise attack. He should’ve known that not everyone was dead. He should’ve known that Arahabaki wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t stay in one spot.
He’d failed his ex-partner.
No, he’d failed his partner.
And nothing he can do can atone for the price he’d almost paid.
No matter what anyone claims, or what Chuuya says: deep inside his Mafia, black-stained heart, he still believes that they’re partners. And partners don’t almost let the other die.
Around one in the afternoon, Yosano, after her checkups on Tanizaki, Atsushi, and Kenji, as well as finishing some of her other paperwork, returns to find Dazai in the chair by Nakahara’s bed, leaning over his own paperwork as he tries to focus.
He won’t show it, but she knows. Knows somewhat what’s going through his head, yeah, but knows, for sure, what’s going through his heart.
That feeling, watching as the person you care for suffers at your own hands, is an awful one. One of the worst, one she wouldn’t wish upon others. It ruined her, tore her down til she was nothing, and it took the efforts of others’ love and guidance to get her through it.
While her love for that person might have been familial, it’s similar enough to Dazai’s that she can empathize, even if he doesn’t want her to.
And perhaps it’s because of that person she lost, not even by her own hands or what would’ve been natural for their circumstances, that she reaches out to Dazai now, a familial pull tethering her to him.
She’d realized what he felt last night for Nakahara, all in one look and word.
Yosano’s not going to lose Dazai to his treacherous thoughts, both ones caused by all of this and ones that somehow are not.
“How’s it coming along?” She asks, propping a hand on her hip as she stands near the bed. Dazai doesn’t look up, his leg bouncing, but mumbles,
“I can’t focus.”
She can understand that well enough. “Alright, then let’s talk.”
“You have work to do.”
“I think it’s right in front of me.” Dazai looks up at her suddenly, eyes widened a little in shock. Her own eyes soften a bit as she continues speaking, “You know you can always talk to me, right?”
He presses his lips into a thin line, then gives a little nod. She’ll take it.
She walks over to one of her cabinets, opening it up and reaching for something inside. “Or, if you don’t feel like talking, there’s always other methods.”
Yosano shakes a sake bottle in the air, prompting a small chuckle from Dazai. Perfect.
“I’m not that desperate.” He smiles a bit. “I’ll celebrate when he wakes up.”
“Fair enough.” She sets it on her desk, just in case. “I suppose it’s a tad bit too early to be drinking, anyway.”
They talk about nothing and everything, Dazai even moving from the chair to sit on the other bed comfortably. Dazai must have gathered enough energy to change the sheets at some point while she was in the main office.
It’s relaxing, and Yosano learns some things about Dazai she wouldn’t have guessed otherwise.
While she knows he hates dogs — except for a certain one he always complains about in the office, one currently sitting on her cot — she’s pleasantly surprised to find out he enjoys the company of felines. She’d honestly expected him to not be too fond of animals in general based on the way he never touches Mii-chan when Haruno brings him in, but he's also never seemed to mind the cat's peripheral company.
She also finds out where his favorite bar is, someplace called Lupin up in Ginza, that she wants to try out with him sometime. He even promises to buy her a glass of their finest wine and a shot of their best whiskey, likely with Nakahara’s wallet, to test the differences against their ‘boring, store-bought counterparts’ as Dazai had claimed.
He has the guts to ask her about her butterfly clip, but she ends up promising to tell him when they go to the bar instead, likely next week once this whole situation is all behind them.
Dazai tells her stories from when he and Chuuya (he informed her to call the executive Chuuya as the redhead prefers) first met after she asked him to — 'The Fantabulous Adventures of Slug and Mackerel,' as he liked to call them — and it’s here that Yosano begins to be able to tell his genuine smiles apart from his fake ones.
In summary, Double Black met at fifteen, saw each other at their best and worst in every situation, and saved each other countless times to form the closest bond Yosano's — hell, Yokohama's — ever witnessed. If that’s not a love story, Yosano doesn’t know what is.
At one point, Dazai’s head snaps to Chuuya, back straightening as he watches the other. Yosano checks over him as well, but finds nothing of note, so she waits for Dazai to satisfy whatever urge is compelling him in that moment.
With a release of held-breath, Dazai turns back to her, claiming, “His breath stuttered for a second. Maybe he’ll wake up late tomorrow night, instead. He’s always been a stubborn slug, after all.”
Yosano’s left hiding her shock. Even as a doctor, she can’t always see the tiny, subtle movements of her patients, so for Dazai to detect that his breathing, something inaudible given how Chuuya is deeply asleep and her and Dazai weren’t exactly talking quietly, changed is beyond incredible.
Maybe she can use him in the infirmary sometime in the future.
Or maybe it only works on the redhead thanks to his Chuuyasexuality, as she’s decided to call it.
It’s nearing six o’clock now, the packing and shuffling of items down the hall indicating so. There’s a minor scuffle that leaves Ranpo cackling, an audible gasp from Kunikida, and a would-rather-not-be-identified-sound from Naomi.
Yosano smiles at the noises of it all, a sense of peace coming over her. She really does love her family. “Will you be staying overnight again?”
Dazai nods, standing up and stretching his back, hands over his head.
“Will you sleep in the bed to save your back?” She asks, knowing the answer.
“My back’s already been ruined, Yosano-sensei,” he winks at her, grinning when she rolls her eyes at the title. “But, I suppose, I can maybe use it.”
Her eyes widen. Maybe she didn’t know the answer.
“You better. I’m not a chiropractor.” She walks to one of her cabinets, digging around. Her voice echoes around the metal as she says, “I keep an extra pair of everyone’s sizes in here for emergencies.”
She re-emerges, carrying a pair of pants and a shirt before tossing them at Dazai. She opens a drawer, then also tosses two bandage rolls at the brunet.
Said brunet catches everything effortlessly, barely even twisting his body away from Chuuya. He turns his head to look at her, and she gets the message, nodding in confirmation.
“Thanks, sensei!” He chirps, walking into the bathroom attached to the infirmary.
“Don’t reopen your stitches,” she calls out, focusing her attention on Chuuya. She’d had a hunch that maybe he was more physically injured than he’d originally let on. While she isn’t positive, it’s better to be safe than sorry. And, judging by Dazai’s stutter in his steps, she’d been right. He smiles back at her.
“Nothing ever gets past your eyes, Akiko.”
Dazai emerges from the bathroom showered, bandaged, and dressed to find Yosano sitting in the chair by Chuuya’s bed, a hand on his wrist.
“Took you long enough,” she sighs dramatically.
No, it didn’t. What he did would barely be considered a shower and the parts of his limbs under his clothes - besides the stab wound - don’t even have bandages wrapped around them. His clothes are practically only half-on from his haste to throw them on.
“He’s stable, as far as I can tell,” she speaks again, looking at him. There’s a knowing look in her eyes and a smirk on her face as she teases, “but I don’t know him as well as you do. Also, your fly’s down.”
Dazai doesn’t even give her the satisfaction of looking down as he fixes his pants before stepping towards the bed. She puts on a small pout in return for it.
The second and third days come and go, no changes to be made in Chuuya's condition. Dazai doesn’t remember much from the fourth, fifth, and sixth days of watching over Chuuya apart from the rhythm of the machines and the beating of Chuuya's heart.
After the third day, Yosano had hooked Chuuya up to more monitors. Without the ability to use an MRI, she’d checked over Chuuya as much as she could, in the end claiming a coma caused by Corruption.
Dazai didn’t leave Chuuya’s side after that.
They’re all seated in the Agency’s office on the seventh day, members of the Port Mafia and ADA coming together to discuss the impact of Chuuya’s coma.
There’re feelings running wild as some people get into heated arguments and others stay quiet, the blame being tossed back and forth.
Dazai sits in a chair by the door, remaining as close to the infirmary as he can be without getting in the way.
“If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s his.” Tachihara throws a finger in Dazai’s direction, prompting affirming noises from the PM side and gaping murmurs from the Agency’s side.
“Now, wait a moment. Dazai did everything he could to get to Nakahara-san and bring him to Yosano-sensei,” Kunikida speaks up, glaring at Tachihara.
“And? It obviously wasn’t enough!” he practically shouts back. Dazai suppresses the urge to flinch, aware of the eyes on him from both sides. In the corner of his eye, he sees Ranpo scowl.
The lack of sleep is beginning to catch up to him. It's in the ways the shadows in the corner of the room seem to creep in on him, the way someone can move a hair and it forces his heart rate up before he can stop it, the way he can't really be bothered to put on a full mask, instead opting for one of boredom and carelessness — both feelings holding semi-true.
“If anything, the fault should go to me,” Yosano starts, giving her own glare to the occupants of the room. “It was my ability that healed him and my experience that failed him. I should’ve known something was off.”
Dazai stares at her, trying to process her words. There's no reason for her to stick by him and take the blame when the fault is so clearly his. She did all that she could.
Before he can say anything, though, another voice pipes in.
“Yosano-kun, your ability has never failed before.” Mori says, a cold upturn of his lips resembling a haunting of a smile. He sits in the center of the Mafia members, calm and poised as if his strongest man isn't currently stuck in a coma in the back of the Agency. “It can’t be that.”
She scowls at him, obviously holding choiceful words back, then takes a breath. “Perhaps. But maybe it was my teaching that failed me.”
The smile on Mori’s face becomes strained at the comment, only seen through the barest of eye twitches. “Either way, this impact has to be made up for. I’d like to request that Chuuya-kun comes back with us to receive proper medical treatment.”
Yosano opens her mouth, but Fukuzawa puts an arm in front of her. “And if something goes wrong? If his heart stops, or his ability unleashes? Who will prevent that? He is safer in our infirmary where Yosano-sensei and Dazai-kun can care for him.”
“And how do we know that a traitor wouldn’t try to kill him while he’s down?” Kajii interjects before adding, “Or that any of our enemies wouldn’t try something?”
“If you’d actually use your lemon brain for once, you’d remember that we’re in a truce. Breaking that wouldn’t be beneficial for either side,” Ranpo chimes. Kajii’s face morphs into anger, but Hirotsu speaks next.
“As much as it may displease me to leave him here, I would rather keep Chuuya-san alive with tested abilities than leave it up to mechanical chance.”
He pulls out a cigar and lights it. His words waft in the room like the smoke he breathes out as everyone takes a moment to think.
“Dazai-san?” Surprisingly, it’s Gin who has spoken, her soft voice being heard over the silence. Dazai nods at her to continue. “If I may, exactly how long did Chuuya-san use Corruption?”
“…eleven minutes.”
Gasps ring out from both sides, the air in the room becoming heavier with the news. Murmurs sprout up right after, hushed whispers filled with vitriol or questions as their gazes land on the brunet.
“What prevented you from reaching him on time?” Akutagawa asks. There’s an intensity in his eyes, not like the normal one, but in a protective sense. Dazai can barely force himself to meet those eyes.
“There was an enemy who I thought was deceased. When I ran past him to get to Chuuya, he slashed me. Partial Achilles tear along with a near two centimeters-deep laceration expanding thirteen centimeters up my calf. The initial puncture occurred at the Achilles before travelling upwards.”
More gasps and cuss words, and Akutagawa’s eyes widen. Any person with a semblance of medical knowledge knows how disadvantageous such a cut is. To think Dazai had carried Chuuya back to Yosano's infirmary speaks volumes, but the damage was still done due to Dazai's ignorance.
In the corner of his eye, he sees Yosano's shock expression followed by downright fury for not notifying her of his cut. Even if she had noticed he was injured and knew he'd stitched himself up, she hadn't known the damage, nor the full medical assistance it should have gotten. He knows he'll get a lecture for it from her later.
"Why not send an SOS for either organization to receive?" Higuchi asks after a moment.
"Chuuya's phone was likely destroyed or flung somewhere in the warehouse. There was too little time to find it. As for mine, it had fallen out when I was attacked and, by the time I noticed it, there was no time to retrieve it. In addition, I likely would not have been able to get back up with both of our weights on my bad leg had I gone for it. The best option at the time was to push forward towards the Agency while the adrenal gland was still producing epinephrine."
At the time, there really wasn't any spare moments to waste, and he truly had not believed himself capable of getting back up with both of their weights on his bad leg, especially after he was fairly certain he tore it further when he had jumped for Chuuya's unconscious body to subdue Arahabaki.
He can see some people trying to come up with arguments, anything to get back their executive. Unfortunately, Dazai is much too selfish to let Chuuya go. They will have to kill him, and that is a war neither side wishes to see.
“Dazai.”
He doesn’t look up at the voice. This is the one person he didn't want to face today.
“Look at me.”
He doesn't dare to make her repeat herself.
He meets Kouyou head on, daring her to take Chuuya away from him, eyes as black as his soul but ready to attack. Two overprotective, powerful forces clashing in a heated staredown that has both of their sides holding their breaths.
“You know the consequences, right, boy?” Her tone is pure-steel, no warmth to be found. She lost it for him years ago when he had deserted and broken Chuuya's trust.
Dazai nods.
He knows the consequences too well, almost fully experienced one of them a week ago. The consequence Kouyou speaks of, apart from Chuuya's untimely death, involves his head on a silver platter.
Because if there is no Chuuya at all, then there is no Dazai at all.
Kouyou breaks their staring contest to glance at Mori and, with a breath, announces, “I vote Chuuya stays here. Dazai's too obstinate to let Chuuya die, and Chuuya is too stubborn to let him win. Having a near-immortal doctor here is sufficient backup as well.”
Murmurs pop up, but after deliberation, the votes favor that Chuuya stays at the Agency. Mori remained against it (and Dazai knows it was only to get back at him), as well as Kajii. Tachihara, despite his earlier disruption, decided to be neutral along with Higuchi, but Gin, Akutagawa, and Hirotsu took their stand with Kouyou.
It's settled that Chuuya will stay here, but the Port Mafia will have free access to visit the infirmary so long as two Agency members are in the office.
There are talks about what would happen if certain situations arise like foul play, but Dazai is too busy plotting his escape back to the infirmary.
It happens quickly enough. Ranpo had seemed to catch on to his idea with only a glance and made it easy to find an out.
That’s how he ends up back in the infirmary, right by Chuuya’s bedside where he belongs.
He can hear chatter down the hall. Most of the Port Mafia has left, aside from Hirotsu and Kouyou who were assigned with figuring out all the smaller details and consequences of potential outcomes.
At one point, the two visit the infirmary. Dazai pays them no mind, head bowed with Chuuya's hand in between his.
He's sure there's a hidden sort of communication between them, and he can feel Kouyou's anger radiating off her. But she makes no move to scold him or attack — whether from Hirotsu's presence or Chuuya's condition, Dazai doesn't know.
They linger for a bit, taking in the room and its medical equipment. Hirotsu steps forward to place a hand on Dazai's shoulder, removing it just as quick, a rare sign of comfort from the older man. Dazai must truly look like a wreck.
He hears them move to leave and, at the door, Kouyou only says, "Should it be deemed necessary for him to have an MRI or anything of the sort, the Mafia offers its best technology for free."
Only after the rest of the Mafia members have left does Yosano burst into the infirmary.
"Dazai Osamu," she practically growls, heels pounding the floor as she comes over to shove him up. "On the bed. Now."
He goes along with the motion as she pushes him up and onto the other bed. As much as he would rather keep the wound as a symbol for his failure, she won't let him — not without kicking him out of the infirmary until he lets her fix it, and he can't have that with the state Chuuya is in.
She yanks his pant leg up, accurate in guessing which one is injured, and muffles a yell in her throat at the sight of red bandages. After prying those off, she's left with jagged stitch work, swollen and red. The area is beyond inflamed, on the verge of infection, and Dazai can tell how badly she wishes to slap him for his lack of self-care.
"We're doing surgery," she declares after poking and prodding around a bit. She tested his mobility and deemed it insufficient despite Dazai still being able to walk, albeit with a limp.
"We are not—"
"Dazai. You are not getting out of this one."
She goes to gather her supplies, and Dazai wishes now that he had the ability to escape on working feet.
As she scrubs up, she says, "If I don't intervene now while the skin is still open, it will leave you partially handicapped for as long as you live. You won't be able to help Chuuya on future missions, nor the Agency much.
That's enough to at least force his hand. The possibility of Chuuya using Corruption down the road isn't a myth after all of this. He can't have something happening to Chuuya again because of his negligence.
"I will bring Ranpo into the room to watch over him. Hell, I'll do the surgery right here if it means you'll actually allow me to help you."
Dazai nods. As much as he hates it all, he can't argue it with Chuuya's future on the line.
"Good." She tosses him a gown. "Get ready."
The surgery goes smoothly and quickly, thanks to Yosano's expertise. The stitchwork actually looks safe and sane now, clinically precise.
Dazai had opted for numbing agents and nitrous oxide rather than full anesthesia, allowing for him to watch Chuuya as Yosano worked. She'd been against it, but had followed through after Dazai had said "Please."
Who would have guessed the magic word could get you that far? Or perhaps it's just because it's him.
The nitrous oxide had been a stronger dose to overpower his long-grown immunity, leaving him slightly groggy by the end of it. But Chuuya's heart monitor had never left his sight, and it left him with as much of a peaceful feeling as he could obtain in situations like these.
Yosano left him on the bed next to Chuuya's, even shoved it over more so Dazai could hold his wrist, with the clear instructions that he wasn't to move his leg for the time being.
That's fine by Dazai. He doesn't plan to move from Chuuya's side ever again.
In the middle of night, after having apparently fallen asleep, Dazai wakes from a nightmare.
It's not uncommon for him to get such, especially the days after uses Corruption. He'd been awake most of the week, leaving little room for them to creep in on him.
But tonight, it seems he's finally passed out from exhaustion.
The nightmare was about the last conversation him and Chuuya had had before the mission. He says conversation, though it was more like an argument.
The topic of trust had been brought up once again, a root in their relationship for both the good and the bad — the sole reason they can't move forward, only backwards.
You never trust me, Chuuya had said.
But Dazai does. He always has, always will. Yet he can't express it the way Chuuya wants him to. He's broken Chuuya's trust far too many times, sometimes for the good of others and sometimes to hurt himself. It's only with the wisdom of time that he's come to learn that Chuuya is not a toy for his childish whims.
God, Chuuya's never been a true pawn to him. He's always been Chuuya, the boy his own age he met at fifteen and wanted to be friends with, though he hadn't known that's what it was back then.
It only grew from there into a crush and then into love. He won't deny it anymore, not with the possibility of Chuuya never waking up hanging over his head. He's been in love with Chuuya for years, and he can't — won't — give up on it now.
He's tried amending Chuuya's trust ever since they entered each other's worlds again. At this point, he doesn't know what to do to fix things. But still, he'll try. He'll try until the day he dies to atone for all of his mistakes and regrets.
He doesn't sleep anymore that night.
Three more days pass, interspersed with checkups on the both of them, visits from some of the Mafia members, and fainting spells that leave Dazai unconscious for a couple hours at a time.
Yosano's threatened to put him under more than once so that he can actually get enough sleep.
He half-believes she does, given the way he'll find himself waking up rather than staying awake. He can't seem to hold himself up anymore without the edges of his vision going dark constantly.
The world stops in the evening.
Dazai's awoken to the high pitched beeping of the heart monitor that soons turn into a flatline. He's out of his own bed in no time, leg sending arcs of pain up him as he hops across Chuuya's still body to begin chest compressions, body acting on instinct as he pushes into Chuuya.
Yosano's soon in the room as well, followed by Ranpo and Kunikida.
"Akiko, defibrillator now!" Ranpo calls out. Kunikida moves to the bed to yank Dazai off.
For a moment, he sees red, arms ready to fight and mouth to bite. But the sight of Yosano and Ranpo prepping and using the defibrillator leaves him gaping and scared.
Kunikida tries to cover his eyes from the sight, earning an elbow and bite from Dazai.
If Chuuya dies in front of his eyes, Dazai wants to witness every last second of it. It's what he deserves for putting Chuuya in this situation.
It takes three shocks for the heart monitor to return a steady beep-beep-beep.
Ranpo whispers out, "He'll live, Dazai, he'll live."
Dazai sags in Kunikida's arms, heavy and limp, energy drained. His conscious is already trying to give out on him, but he stays awake, counting the beats from the monitor to test Chuuya's natural rhythm.
It lines up, and the relief is so immense he passes out.
No one says a word about the tear tracks staining his pale face.
The next morning Dazai wakes to the blinds being pulled open, though he doesn't open his eyes. This is part of Yosano's routine if he isn't the one to do it.
There's the weight of Chuuya's wrist in his, an ever constant feeling that Dazai refuses to let go of, especially after last night. It's the only thing tethering him to this world right now.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, the world — his heart — stops as a voice whispers, "Thank you, sensei."
He springs up in an instant, heart pounding as if it were the one shocked by the defibrillator. His eyes open just as fast to come face-to-face with Chuuya, awake and alive.
Dazai gasps, and it's like a dam holding everything back is opened with the way he feels so much. He can't seem to get enough air in, drawing heaving breaths in as he takes in Chuuya's appearance.
The redhead is pale, cheeks a bit sunken in, and hair greasy, but he's alive. Alive, alive, alive. There's that old fire in his blue eyes, tired but still there, still fighting.
Dazai can only stare, afraid to touch him as if it will disturb the ability-like illusion.
"You're working yourself into a fit, Osamu," Chuuya points out, voice soft and concerned as he draws his other hand up to pull Dazai closer. "Breathe. It's okay."
Dazai practically collapses on him, face smushed between the bed and Chuuya's neck, breathing him in and the smell of being alive. He can feel tears falling down his cheeks, dampening the gown Chuuya wear and the sheets of the bed. He can feel the way his chest expands and contracts in a way one would think was exagerrated if not for the scene and atmosphere.
But most importantly of all, he can feel the hands of Chuuya rubbing his back in soothing measures, can hear and feel his heartbeat, can hear his hushing voice as he tries to ease him.
Dazai couldn't even care if Yosano is a witness to it all because Chuuya is alive.
That's all Dazai can ever ask for.
He stays where he is, afraid to let go of Chuuya in fear the other will return to a coma. He doesn't know how long he stays in Chuuya's arms, curled into him in what must be an uncomfortable manner. The redhead doesn't shove him off, and Dazai will never deny being a selfish man.
By the time he begins to calm down into a semblance of normality, Yosano has already done her checkups on Chuuya and Dazai's leg. Dazai can feel his body wanting to drift off again now that it's experienced the relief of Chuuya being awake, but there's still the part in the back of his mind that holds fear it will all come crushing down on him in some diabolical illusion of sorts.
When he doesn't move, Chuuya takes initiative, arms still wrapped around him as he speaks, "You're quite the yapper, you know?"
Dazai startles against him.
"Always thought it crazy that some people could hear others while in comas, but guess I'm the crazy one now, huh?" He laughs, and it's such a delightful sound that it has Dazai shedding tears all over again at the blessing of being able to hear it again.
Dazai only shuffles closer to the other. He doesn't remember everything that he said aloud in front of Chuuya, some things he had thought he'd kept to himself but he isn't sure now. Depending on Chuuya's reaction, he could be pushed away and never allowed to be in Chuuya's vicinity again.
"I forgive you, you know?"
What?
Dazai's head whips up, practically bonking into Chuuya's chin, eyes wide as can be. Upon seeing his face, Chuuya smiles sadly at him, reaching a hand up to wipe away a lingering tear along his jaw.
"You don't mean that," Dazai whispers, voice wobbling pathetically. He doesn't deserve forgiveness this easily, no matter how much he may want it.
"'Course I do. You've beat yourself up enough over all of this."
"But—," Dazai starts, trying to show Chuuya he isn't worth redemption so soon. "But how can you know I mean it when I've broken your trust so many times?"
Chuuya smiles, like it's the simplest answer in the world. "Prove to me you mean it, then. For the rest of our lives."
And he leans in, placing a featherlight kiss on his lips as he takes a hold of Dazai's hands.
There's a long, long way to go. So many issues they still need to work through. But Dazai has hope as he returns the kiss. He has hope for a happy ending for them and their future.
He'll show Chuuya every day until the day he dies how much the other means to him. He'll show him every part of him.