Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Anyone who’d look at us right now would think that you’re extorting me,” is said with such a gentle voice, so dissonant with the unholy light in those dark eyes, and the shit-eating grin on his lips. “That, or threatening me to date a brutish girl like you.”

Chuuya rolls her eyes as she squeezes the bastard’s neck more firmly. “I would threaten to cut off your balls, but you probably don’t even have one.”

“Mm, do you want to do a hands-on check?” A gentlemanly laugh that’s more in-line with the public image he portrays as the Student Council President who’s so popular, that he wins in a landslide vote, even when he hasn’t even campaigned for it. “I’m not sure I’m ready to trade my body for the sake of peace in this school.”

It’s truly too disgusting. She sneers and steps back from the bastard, because there’s no telling just how he’d infect her with his shamelessness. “You’re already this old and you’re still this addicted to saying nonsense?”

“You’re already this old and you’re still this small,” comes the usual retort. His gaze lingers on her, leisurely moving up and down her body. Unlike his usual gentlemanly antics when it comes to dealing with other women, he has no politeness towards her. “All this flashiness just to make up for your pitiful height… It’s enough to make me cry.”

An interested hum. “Oh? Go ahead and cry then.” She sits atop his desk, crossing her legs and letting her shoes dirty his papers. Knowing him, he doesn’t even read any of it, simply stamps his signature on them. Maybe even trick his poor underclassmen to do his work for him. She flaps her hand at him. “The sight of your stupid face crying should work to compensate me for coming all the way here.”

The windows are open, but the curtains that flutter with the wind are only seemingly gauze-like, but are sufficiently thick. From their spot, they can’t look out to the track-and-field grounds; none of the students dutifully doing their club activities could see them either.

Nobody else could see the way Dazai sidles close to her, one hand grabbing her wrist, and another playing with the hem of her skirt. “This counts as a dress-code violation, you know?”

“It’s exactly the same length as specified for a summer uniform,” she fires back, unperturbed by his wandering hands. She could easily break his wrist if she so wishes, after all. He doesn’t pose a threat to her at all.

“A delinquent who pays attention to the school rules.” A sigh, as Dazai’s fingertips trace the line of her muscles, starting from her thigh, to her kneecap, to her calf. “It’s quite touching.” At his last word, he pinches the skin just-before her socks end.

With a haughty scoff, “Just because I like to fight doesn’t mean that I’m a useless student.” She pointedly glares at the pair of rimless glasses hanging over the neckline of his uniform. It’s part of his addiction to acting like a respectable person.

“And it’s your love for fighting that has brought you here, little miss delinquent.”

“Oh? It’s not because you’re some fishy bastard who wants to feel me up?” If there’s one thing that Dazai is infamous for, it’s his incredibly thick face when it comes to flirting with multiple women, sometimes simultaneously. Even when he receives retribution in the form of a mighty slap, he just shrugs it off and considers it as a way for ladies to sneak in touches to him.

Dazai doesn’t bother denying it. “You’re the one who sauntered here with such a short skirt.”

“I wear short skirts so it’s easier for me to beat up assholes.” She rucks it up, to reveal fish-printed boxers underneath. Part of this bastard’s bad taste, gifting her with such things—but joke’s on him, because the fabric is quite soft and it’s not as if she has to look at the design of her underwear, so even if there are actual mackerels there, she can wear them without care. “Also, blaming people for their clothing is very bastardly of you, oi.”

“I’m not blaming people. I’m only blaming you, slug.”

She pokes her middle finger into the middle of his forehead, already tired of this bullshit. “One more disgusting word and I’m shoving Baki up your nose.” It’s a generous warning. Her trusty baseball bat is left by the doorway. There are ominous streaks of dark red on it, as it’s her favorite weapon if she needs something other than her fists or feet.

“How feisty.” He pulls away after a moment, getting something from the file cabinet beside the desk. “There have been rumors about gangs in the area colluding to teach you a lesson.”

At the sudden serious tone, she can’t help but snort. “Weak-ass bastards who group up together are still weak-ass bastards. You think that I can’t send them all back crying with tails between their legs?”

A thoughtful Dazai rubs his chin. Nothing nice ever results from the other’s thoughts, and today is no different. More serious than before, “I’m worried that they’d group up and try to sneak photos up your skirt while you’re too busy fighting.”

She shakes a fist at him. “I really ought to beat you up. Do you have nothing but nonsense inside your head?”

“What if they see you wearing boxers that have my name sewn on them? Then they’d think that we have a close relationship? I can’t accept such a disgusting conjecture! What if the lovely ladies in the city hear about it?” The seriousness has completely been vaporized in the heat of his words. “Then I wouldn’t be able to find someone who’d agree to a romantic double-suicide with me, if they think that I’m not single anymore!”

“With you as the student council president, this school is motherfucking doomed.” A long-suffering sigh. Then, she balances herself on the edge of the desk, her right foot sweeping out to kick her shoe towards the other’s forehead. “Also! What the hell do you mean by your name on my underwear?! Bastard, take them out!”

A nimble hand catches her shoe, makes a show of sniffing it, then fake-retching to the side. “Urgh, it smells like wet dog.”

She kicks her other shoe, this time aiming for his stupid nose.

He catches that one too, raising his eyebrows. “Why are you slowly stripping your clothes in front of me? Little Miss Delinquent, I’m an outstanding student of good moral character, I’m not interested in doing pornographic things at school.”

“The only fucking you’re doing to me is fucking up my patience and mood.” Impatiently, she puts her hands on her hips, standing up on the desk so she can lord over him. “I can’t believe you made me skip basketball club’s practice for this. I still have to go to a meeting with Sheep, so make it quick, asshole.”

The advantage of being temporarily taller than Dazai means she can punch the top of his messy head directly. A big disadvantage makes itself known quickly, since Dazai sidles back close, hands resting possessively over the dip on her lower back. Warm breath tickles her waist, the thin fabric of her school uniform unable to shield her from this feeling. Her oversized coat still hangs on her shoulders, the emblazoned “Strongest” drawing a line from the tip of her ponytail, all the way to her tailbone, like an unyielding spine that wouldn’t falter against any storm.

As the leader of a gang that punishes those who make trouble with the weak and the juveniles, she has to set an example. She’s never been defeated by any fight, unless one counts the times that she’s lost due to a certain bastard’s trickery in the arcade or in mobile games.

Unfortunately, it’s been years, but she’s still unable to vanquish this big evil. Put into perspective, gangs ganging up on her seems incredibly easy.

“What if they decide to kidnap me in hopes of finding your weakness?” His tone is full of grievances, but his eyes reveal his real thoughts. He’s excited at the prospect of being involved in the fanfare; he’s probably looking forward to all the nonsense he can force those poor sods to listen to. He’s ridiculously proud of his twenty-six notebooks, all listing out his observations and complaints about her, so he’s definitely going to recite those contents once someone asks him to sell her out.

With the meanest tone she can muster, “Then I’ll be sure to stay at home and not rescue you at all.”

“You’re such a stupid slug,” is full of affection. “Thankfully, I’ve already prepared a list of all their bases and weaknesses, so it’d be easy to destroy them all before they can even make their move.”

With a flourish, he then pulls out some of the papers on the desk, ones that have some marks from when she’s stepped on them earlier. “Here’s the intel,” he offers them, grinning. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to work hard in reading them. Some stupid slug stepped all over them earlier.”

She pulls his hair, ignoring his whines. “You have the worst flirting style ever,” she declares. “You’re lucky I don’t bully weak-ass idiots, or else I’d have made you cry already.”

Nevertheless, she doesn’t end up rushing to attend the tail-end of basketball club’s practice, nor does she manage to attend Sheep’s meeting.

It’s late by the time she walks out of the school gates, Baki resting on her left shoulder. A cigarette on her lips, and an annoying mackerel holding the lighter up for her, trailing smoke as they walk towards her bike. A few moments later, the bike zooms past with its two passengers, going towards one of the marked destinations of a rival gang that’s soon to be no more.

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