Chapter Text
“Hmm, hmm,” Dazai was eerily humming some song, watching the piles of corpses surrounding him and the other teen boy.
Honestly, Dazai wasn’t sure why Mori was sending them on such a useless mission. Him and Chuuya had been sent to go deal with a new group of ability users, The Twilight Trill. In spite of their powerful abilities, the organization had already weakened and was nearly collapsed on itself by the time Dazai and Chuuya got to truly pick it apart. Neither of the 16 year olds were all that surprised at the ease at which the organization fell apart.
After all, they were Soukoku. Double Black. Dazai and Chuuya.
“Would you stop that? It’s creeping me the hell out,” From where Chuuya had finished disposing of the last body, a look of disdain had been shot in Dazai’s direction.
“You don’t love my beautiful singing? I’m just so offended.” Dazai’s voice rang out condescending, as it always did, dry and sarcastic.
“I doubt anybody would love it, stinky mackerel.”
With Chuuya on his bandaged side, the two returned to the storage container that Dazai called home. It was like a wordless routine for them, after missions. Chuuya would unwrap Dazai’s bandages, soiled from blood that was not his, hardly reacting at the multitude of scars under there. At first, Chuuya would have winced, maybe glanced away for a split second, but he no longer did so. Only a select few had ever seen what was under Dazai’s bandages. There was Mori, and there was Chuuya, though if Mori was the one touching Dazai’s bandages, he must’ve failed at another attempt.
Perfunctorily, Chuuya changes Dazai’s bandages, knowing exactly what type of gauze to use, which ones would be itchy against Dazai’s skin, and which would be the most comfortable.
It was almost instinctual, at this point, the little routine they had between them.
The pair of teens, slipping into the small bed within the storage container, on the uncomfortable, stiff mattress, back to back, Chuuya taking the first four hour block, and Dazai the second. Of course, there was no doubt Chuuya would have woken up if even a hair on Dazai’s head had been touched, but it didn’t really matter to either of them. They were soukoku, so Chuuya might as well protect the brunette.
Knock. Knock
Something ominously sounding like the pounding of a door startled Chuuya out of his sleep.
“Dazai.”
“I know.”
A red glow covered the front of the encasing they had been trapped in–Chuuya had realized it was a coffin– the lid blowing off.
“You’re awfully dolled up,” Dazai said, glancing at the garb Chuuya was in– black robes, lined with purple with gold embellishments and details on them. They were quite fancy, considering the fact they had been in a coffin. Additionally, Dazai noted the makeup gracing Chuuya’s face–darker eyeshadow, and enough concealer to cover the ginger’s freckles, which the brunette frowned at.
“So are you,” Chuuya observed the eyeshadow on Dazai. Even the Bandage had been removed from his eye, yet the ones wrapped around the rest of his body remained.
“Mhm, the ballerina is always cautious before a performance.”
Chuuya sighed. The Ballerina, referenced Chuuya, in spite of the aforementioned teen’s reluctance to be referred to in such a manner (He had originally complained that it made him seem ‘prissy’). Since the ballerina is always cautious, Chuuya understands Dazai wants him to be on guard, ‘before a performance,’ or before going past this point.
Whoever had kidnapped them must know their clothing size, at least–the robes they were wearing were so well tailored, like it was made specifically to fit them. Dazai was especially on edge due to the lack of a bandage covering his eye, and the thin layer of makeup on his own face, and he resisted the urge to claw it off–the makeup and the skin on his face.
As the pair walked, they noted multiple coffins similar to the one Dazai and Chuuya had emerged from– with glowing green stones in the middle. Upon closer inspection, the coffin doors were loose, indicating that whoever had been in there had been let out, and were nearby. Chuuya glowed faint red due to Tainted, the command on the tip of his tongue in case he needed to use it.
“Maybe we’re in a morgue, ne chibi? Though, it’s a shame you’re here with me. I was hoping to commit a double suicide,” The brunette’s cold eyes sharply observed the surroundings, the hum of the building they were in, a magical quality to the room, yet Dazai wasn’t nullifying it.
“Man, I hope not. I don’t wanna deal with you in death too, you’re already a pain as is.” Chuuya, hovering behind Dazai, to his right, the side where the eye bandage should’ve been, and wasn’t.
Through halls that seemed to turn, double black finally made it to the Mirror Chamber, where many other people, dressed in the same cloaks and robes as them, were standing around a large, talking mirror.
A peculiar sight, yes, but not as peculiar as the crow standing in the center of it all.
A crow mask on his face, while it was quite peculiar, the thing that struck Dazai the most was how similar the man sounded to the Port Mafia Boss.
It was like Mori had an identical twin–their voices were exactly the same. There was no difference in the way that person’s tone swayed, nor how they spoke. It was the exact same. A shudder racked Dazai’s body, for reasons he could not explain.
It seemed that regardless of the universe, Dazai would always be bound to the man.
Strangest of all, the mirror seemed to be assigning groups to people.
“Heartslabyul.”
“Savanaclaw.”
“Octavinelle.”
“Scarabia.”
“Pomefiore.”
“Ignihyde.”
“Diasomnia.”
Such odd names, Chuuya couldn’t help but think.
Such a peculiar place.