Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chuuya wheezes as he slams onto the ground hard enough that he skids along the dirt for several feet. It gets up his nose and, as he attempts to suck in air for his empty lungs, he swallows a mouthful of grass. Gross.

Quickly rolling to his knees, Chuuya spits out the ground that got in his mouth and exhales harshly through his nose. It doesn’t get all the dirt, but that can be dealt with later once he’s done fighting this fool.

…Except, as Chuuya shoves to his feet and turns to face his opponent, he finds himself very much not where he was a moment ago. Reinforced steel walls have been replaced with outdoor air. The utterly empty space that had been around him is now full of beams and construction equipment.

And there is a clear lack of his something-ability wielding, bald, opponent.

Instead, there are a good dozen or so construction workers peering at him curiously. How the heck did he get here? Maybe his opponent’s ability was some sort of teleportation? He did see a flash of bright blue when he was thrown back just now… Great. This is why he should do a better job of listening to the job briefing Mori gives him, even if they are extremely boring.

“Are you alright there, son? You came in outta nowhere.” One of them, a mousy-looking man with brown hair who is on the shorter side (no, Chuuya isn’t trying to tell if he’s taller, that would be ridiculous) asks.

“I’m fine,” Chuuya replies instinctively.

He then immediately doubles over and starts coughing up blood.

Okay, maybe not as fine as he’d like to think.

But come on, he only took a couple hits, and maybe he isn’t as healed up from his last (capital L last, because that rotten slimy Mackerel blew up Chuuya’s car and all his ties with the mafia before dropping off the face of the earth) use of Corruption as he told Kouyou, but all that shouldn’t be enough to cause any serious injuries!

Unless that steel beam he took to the gut ruptured his unhealed insides all over again. Which is starting to appear very likely. How annoying.

“Kid!”

Huh? Why’s that construction guy sound so worried? Heh, guess civilians really do overreact when they see blood.

Chuuya blinks to clear his blurry vision and is confused when he realizes he is staring far too closely at muddy grass. When he’d collapse to the ground?

“Hang on, son. The ambulance is on the way. Just hang on a little longer!”

Chuuya chuckles. It is far too weak and watery for his liking, and a bit of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth, but he still gets out a couple words: “This ain’t enough to kill me.”

Then Chuuya promptly blacks out.

He wakes up to the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

Snapping his eyes open, Chuuya looks around himself frantically. His scanning of the room stops as his eyes lock onto the tubes sticking out of his arm.

No.

No no no. Not again.

The beeping of the heart monitor increases its speed.

Chuuya tears the tubes from his arms, uncaring as the little metal bits rip skin on the way out. He doesn’t care about the thin line of blood that trickles down his arm in response, he just needed the tubes out.

He won’t be anyone’s experiment ever again.

Grabbing the wires that connect him to the heart monitor, Chuuya rips those off too. The beeping cuts out, and his head clears up enough to realize that he isn’t in the lab. There are no human-sized vats, no shady scientists with clipboards staring at him from behind ability-proof glass.

Instead, there’s a single, white-sheeted bed that he is sitting on, regular hospital machinery, and a white privacy curtain that is being yanked aside by a frantic nurse, revealing a doorway that leads to a bustling hallway.

As she spies him, the nurse relaxes. “Oh, honey, you have to leave the wires alone, okay? Here, let me put them back for you—”

Chuuya smacks her hand aside as she reaches for his arm and bares his teeth at her. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Honey,” her expression is full of pity. That just makes Chuuya hate her. “You were very hurt when they brought you in. We need to monitor your vitals to make sure Recovery Girl’s healing got everything.”

She reaches for him again and Chuuya activates his ability. The nurse cries out as the harsh pressure of gravity forces her to the ground — though Chuuya doesn’t press it hard enough to hurt her, just enough to keep her away from him.

“I said don’t touch me,” Chuuya growls.

“SECURITY!” The nurse shrieks, panic clear in her tone. Oh, yeah. Right. Hospitals have that, don’t they?

Leaping to his feet, Chuuya immediately wobbles and grimaces. Fighting off a couple security guards shouldn’t be an issue, even weakened this much — he isn’t the best martial artist in the Port Mafia for nothing — but if they have an ability user with any strength, he might have a hard time.

And if this truly is the government trying to lure him in before chaining him up and shipping him off to a testing facility, then Chuuya might be a little screwed.

One security guard rushes into the room, only for a man in a crisp black suit to grab their arm.

“We’ll take it from here.” The security guard backs off immediately, allowing those that can only be government officers to fill the room.

Chuuya raises his fists and snarls at them. So what if it’s one on ten? He won’t be giving in without a fight. Though, really, these are odds he isn’t upset with; it’s almost laughable that they think they can take him down with only ten people.

However, he can’t fight all out if there’s an innocent in the way. Chuuya lets up his ability on the nurse, and she quickly scrambles to her feet and runs out of the room.

“Stand down, boy.” One of the officers orders.

Chuuya scoffs, shifts his weight, and reaches up to make sure his hat is—

His eyes widen as he realizes he is seeing bare, scarred skin where his gloves should be. Said bare hand pats his head and only finds tangled hair. He glances down at himself and finds he is only wearing a thin hospital gown.

No gloves, no hat, no pockets.

Worry creeps into Chuuya’s soul, where the demon lurking within starts to laugh.

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya mentally shoves Arahabaki aside. So what if he doesn’t have his regular clothes? So long as he doesn’t say that phrase, then Arahabaki can’t take control. That’s just how it works.

…But maybe, just in case, he’ll hold off using his ability until he gets his hat and gloves back. It’s not like he needs his ability to beat these losers anyway—

Chuuya’s eyes go wide as glowing green chains wrap around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides tightly.

Well, that’s not good. His gaze flicks between his ten opponents, but he can’t tell which one is the ability user. Chuuya squirms, trying to determine how strong the chains are and if he can just break them, only to wheeze as the chains tighten.

“Don’t struggle, boy. We just have some questions for you, on behalf of the Hero Public Safety Commission.”

The what? That is not an organization Chuuya has heard of. Just how far from Yokohama did that teleportation ability take him?

“We’ll be taking you in for questioning—”

Chuuya’s heartrate speeds up again. An unknown government organization trying to take him to an isolated location? Yeah, nope. Not happening.

But, just as Chuuya is about to unleash his ability, regardless of the consequences, there’s a cry that stops him.

“Excuse me!” The mousy construction worker from earlier is in the doorway. “Excuse me, officers, but this boy just underwent strenuous healing and has specific instructions to take it easy over the next week.”

“And you are?” One of the officers frowns at the interruption brought on by this man.

“Ruki Uraraka, sir. I was the one who brought the boy in last night.”

Chuuya blinks. A whole night? He was unconscious, letting these people pump who know what into his veins, for a whole night?!

Panic starts to seep in, and the air around him beings to glow red. The green chains made by the other ability user shatter easily; far too easily. Did they let him go? Are they trying to lure him into a false sense of security, then overpower him when he’s not expecting it?

“Just leave me the fuck alone,” Chuuya snarls, upping the output of his ability so that the floor around him begins to quake. “I’m not going anywhere with you assholes!”

“Calm down, boy. Attacking an HPSC officer with your quirk is a felony.” He isn’t sure which officer spoke, so Chuuya glares at all of them for good measure.

“Why don’t we all take a break and maybe have a snack?” The mousy man — Uraraka, he said his name is — pipes in. “Food always helps tense situations.”

“You dare question the methods of the HPSC?” An officer faces the man and reaches into their coat. Chuuya’s breath quickens. A gun? A knife?

“Get down!” Chuuya barks, lunging towards the doorway, intent on tackling the officer before they can hurt the civilian just for getting in the way of them kidnapping Chuuya.

He doesn’t make it that far.

Those same green chains as before envelop him, squeeze tight enough the air whooshes out of his lungs in one big breath, and Chuuya finds himself crashing to the floor. His shoulder collides with the pristine tiles, making him grit his teeth as pain rattles up from the joint.

“Hey!” Uraraka protests. “I’m quite sure it is illegal to use your quirk on an innocent child like this! Please let him go right now!”

The officers exchange glances, then the chains holding Chuuya vanish. Immediately, Chuuya hops up to his feet. No way is he staying on the floor, vulnerable, with all these government goons around.

“Excuse me, kids.” An old lady pokes her head around the doorway, standing just behind Uraraka, who jumps and moves out of the lady’s way. She waddles into the room, her cane tapping on the floor. “You aren’t accosting my new patient, are you?”

“No, Recovery Girl,” one of the officials lies. “We were just having a chat.”

“Well, I think you ought to leave my patient to rest; he shouldn’t be out of bed yet!” A stern glare shoos the government officers out of the room, but not before one of them mumbles something about returning tomorrow to question Chuuya.

Once they are out of the room, the old lady turns her stern gaze on Chuuya. “Now, boy, what are you doing standing up? On the bed you go, chop chop.”

“No thank you.” Chuuya eyes the doorway. Uraraka is still hovering there, so they make brief, awkward eye contact. Even if the man seems pretty sturdy, Chuuya is confident in his chances of shoving the man aside and making a run for it.

“Come now, dear, you need to rest. Injuries require time to heal, and my quirk trades your energy for quickened healing, so you need rest now more than ever. And we ought to get you hooked up to that IV again, you were awfully dehydrated when you came in.”

“I’m alright now, thanks.” Chuuya inches closer to the door. “Really, thanks for patching me up and everything, but I ought to get going…”

“Oh, none of that, boy.” The old lady scowls at him. “I haven’t seen injuries quite like yours before, so I’m not sure if they are all healed. You’ll need to stay for at least a couple days under observation. Do you happen to know how you managed to rupture so many blood cells?”

A couple days? Trapped in here for the government to come back and kidnap him at any moment? No way.

“No thank you,” Chuuya repeats. “I’m good. I’ve got to get back to work and be, uh, not here.”

“Dear,” the old lady frowns at him, “you cannot discharge yourself after I just finished saying that you need to stay for observation. Please, lie down in bed.”

Chuuya inches closer to the door. It’ll be easy; he’ll dart around the man in the doorway, rush through the building, find his stuff (no way is he letting them keep his hat and gloves, nor is he willing to continue wearing a hospital gown), and hustle back to the Port Mafia before Mori realizes he’s gone. And hopefully find that ability user he was fighting to give them a good smack for being such a nuisance.

“And,” the lady continues, “is there someone we can call for you? Perhaps having your legal guardian here would help you settle in.”

…Or, Mori can show up, flash some money around, and get Chuuya out of here without any further hassle.

“I’ll call.” Chuuya declares. “Where’s my stuff? I had my phone on me earlier.”

The old lady nods towards a small, plastic bucket Chuuya didn’t notice earlier. In it sits all his things. Chuuya makes quick work of sliding on his gloves, placing his hat firmly on his head, and digging through his coat pockets to find his phone. It’s a little cracked but should be fine.

One phone call, then he’s out of here.

He clicks on Mori’s contact and brings the phone to his ear. It rings. And rings. And clicks, then: “The number you’ve dialed is not available. Please check the number and try your call again.”

Mori never has his phone off. Not even during executive meetings.

Swallowing, Chuuya hits Kouyou’s contact and tries her instead. It too rings out and brings him to the flat voice of the automated answering machine.

He brings his phone back from his ear and stares at it. Maybe… Chuuya hits his top-saved contact, ignoring the shaking of his hands and the way that he misses the call icon the first time he tries to hit it. He knows Dazai hasn’t changed his number; all the drunken calls Chuuya has made over the past couple weeks have gone through.

But even that doesn’t work. There’s not Dazai’s ridiculous voicemail on the other end, only beeping and a resounding click as the call does not go through.

Chuuya hangs up before he can hear the automated recording again.

He lowers his phone, setting it back in the plastic box. “Um, no one picked up,” Chuuya mutters.

“That’s alright, dear.” The old lady pats his shoulder. “Why don’t you get back in bed? We can call again later.” This time Chuuya goes willingly as the old lady gently nudges him towards the uninviting hospital bed, too stunned to react appropriately and rush out of there.

He knew Dazai wouldn’t pick up. He did. Yet for whatever stupid reason, it still hurts to know that his partner (ex-partner, whatever) doesn’t care about him anymore. That even though Chuuya is in trouble and needs help, Dazai won’t be there with a smarmy grin and an escape plan. Not anymore.

“Ah, excuse me.” The mousy man pipes in again. “Ms. Recovery Girl, is it alright if I stay with the boy until his guardians arrive?”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Chuuya snaps before the doctor or whatever she is can say anything. “You’ve got a family waiting for you, yeah?” Chuuya might not be Dazai, but even he can deduce that much. The man nods. “Then you might as well go home to them. I don’t need your damn pity; I’m fine on my own.” Besides, once Chuuya gets over the fact that none of the three people closest to him picked up his call, once his hands stop shaking, he’s out of here.

“Well, I already called home and told them I’d be late getting back. My wife understands, and my daughter does too. She’s a kind girl; around your age. I know that if it was my little girl that was hurt, I’d want someone, even a stranger, to wait with her so she wasn’t alone until I got there. I’m sure your folks would feel the same.” Warm brown eyes look at him far too fondly.

Chuuya snorts, averting his eyes. “That’s a nice sentiment, but no. Mori will probably just be pissed I got myself stuck in a hospital in the first place.” As he name-drops Mori, Chuuya glances at the old lady. As a doctor, she should recognize the name, but there is no change to her expression.

Great, so he’s been teleported far enough away that Mori’s name is unknown and his cell phone doesn’t work (Chuuya is going to presume that it is broken until proven otherwise. There must be some explanation for why none of his calls went through).

“Well then.” The short man straightens up. “That means there is only more reason for me to stay and keep you company.”

Chuuya glares at Uraraka, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to deter this stranger.

“Whatever. Do what you want.” If this man wants to waste his time here, Chuuya can’t stop him.

“Thank you. Before I sit, is there anything I can get you? Snacks, a book, anything?”

“No,” Chuuya replies shortly, his eyes following the old lady as she starts shuffling around the room. Between the two strangers, the old lady is certainly more dangerous. That, or Chuuya’s instincts are just thrown off because she’s a doctor and he doesn’t exactly trust doctors of any kind.

“Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.” With that, Uraraka settles in the tiny, uncomfortable-looking chair next to the bed Chuuya is reluctantly sitting on.

The old lady clears her throat. “Well, dear, everything seems to be in place. I’ll just hook you back up to the IV drip and the heart monitor, then I’ll get our of your way so you can rest.” She picks up the wire that leads to a clear fluid bag and extends her other hand, as if expecting Chuuya to willingly let her put that thing in him.

He jerks away when she reaches for his wrist. “You’re not putting that fucking thing in me.”

“I can hold your hand, if you want.” Uraraka offers.

Chuuya shoots the man a small glare; he is so not some kid that needs their hand held during something oh-so-scary as getting an IV put in.

No, he is a very rational eighteen-year-old executive of the mafia who knows better than to trust mystery substances doctors try to inject him with.

“Dear, it will just be a small pinch. You’ll barely know it’s there, alright?”

“No, that is not alright.” Chuuya growls at her when she tries to grab his wrist again. “I’m sitting on the damn bed. Take it or leave it. That window,” he jerks his head towards the single window in the room, “does not look reinforced. I have no qualms about taking that as an exit if you keep trying to jab me with that thing.”

At Chuuya’s statement, Uraraka sucks in a sharp breath, while the old lady’s lips purse. She sets down the IV needle.

“No need to do anything of that sort, dear. We’ll just have you drink lots of water; I suppose that works just as well now that you are awake.”

“No heart monitor either,” Chuuya declares. He is not letting them hook him up to anything.

The old lady’s lips purse even further, but she nods. “Very well then. I will have someone check on you every couple hours.”

“Whatever.” Chuuya won’t be here in a couple hours.

The old lady gives him one final look, then heads out, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind her, leaving Chuuya alone with Uraraka. Chuuya is pretty confident he can take the man out if needed — Uraraka seems sturdy, probably from construction work, but none of that built-up muscle means anything in terms of fighting ability. Even if Chuuya is a little off his normal game, now that he got his hat and gloves back, there’s his ability to throw into the ring too.

Speaking of which…

Chuuya hops off the bed.

Uraraka startles. “Son, you really should stay in bed and rest—”

“No need to get your panties in a twist,” Chuuya huffs, heading for the plastic box of his things. “I’m just getting changed.”

“Oh. Um, I’ll just. Let me know when you’re done.” The man stands, walking over and ducking behind the privacy curtain so Chuuya can change without an audience. Well, that works well enough; Chuuya’s plan was to knock the guy unconscious, get changed, then jump out the window. Having the man willingly remove himself is much more convenient.

As Chuuya is rather used to changing quickly, it only takes him a handful of seconds to toss the hospital gown aside and shimmy into his own clothing. Mafia black settles over his skin, quickly followed by relief. Even if he is in a hospital, at least now he looks and feels like himself again.

After tugging on his choker to make sure it’s clipped on right, Chuuya silently pads over to the window, examining it. Like he said, it isn’t sturdy. One quick jab should be enough to shatter all the glass, then he can run up the side of the building and be home free.

Just as he is about to draw his fist back and punch the glass, Uraraka calls out to him.

“Hey, son, do you need any help changing?” If the words came from someone like Mori, Chuuya would be reeling in disgust. As it is, the words are kind and disgustingly considerate, because yeah, Chuuya does still ache from leftover Corruption side effects, despite whatever healing they claimed to have done while he was unconscious.

“…Son?”

Oh, right. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

Chuuya punches the glass. The window shatters far too loudly for his liking, making him wince and glance over his shoulder. Uraraka rips the privacy curtain open, worry prominent in his dark eyes.

“Are you alright—!” The man trails off as he watches Chuuya grab the edge of the now-empty windowsill. “Son, wait just a second. No matter what you are going through, there are people here who can help you!”

“Um. No thanks. Later?” Chuuya offers a tiny wave, silently thanking the man for not leaving him to die in the construction yard, and hops the window. His red aura surrounds him, making it easy for Chuuya to flip mid air and land on the side of the building. He sets off in a sprint, moving up the side of the hospital until he gets to the roof, where he takes a strong leap and launches himself into the air.

Wherever that ability user sent him can’t be too far, and he’s been gone a while already, so it’s about time he got back to Yokohama.

Chapter Text

It takes Chuuya approximately five minutes to realize that this is not his Yokohama. It only took that long in the first place because Chuuya was mildly convinced he was lost and not actually in the right place.

For one, he does not see Suribachi City on the way in. For another, the mafia’s HQ is kind of entirely gone. Finally, there are costumed freaks running around like they own the place. In Chuuya’s Yokohama, would last for however long it took Dazai (wherever he is) to get over laughing at the idiots. Given said idiots are roaming the streets without bullets splattering their brains on the walls, something is clearly up.

What the fuck is all this? Could it be some sort of hallucination ability? Granted, Chuuya never thought he had this type of an imagination, so it’s probably not that. From his vantage point on the nicest curvy rooftop, Chuuya can see people that, for lack of a better word, look like mutants. It’s as if they are walking around with a constantly activated ability that changes their hair to blades, their skin to feathers or fur, their colouring to something vibrant Chuuya thought only belonged to fabric.

In a way, it’s beautiful. There are so many different kinds of people all walking around, going about their day, seemingly ignorant of the differences between them.

The illusion shatters as one of those colorfully dressed idiots starts shouting, pointing at a young blonde girl. Chuuya’s eyes narrow and he leans over the edge of the building to get a better view, a hand coming up to hold his hat. The young girl is pale, that grey-ish tint Dazai gets after not eating for multiple days on end, her hair is stringy and tied in two disarrayed buns, and she has literal vampire fangs.

Whether it’s the fangs or the fact that she is clearly a street kid, the costumed idiot that spotted her wastes no time setting to chasing her down.

This is definitely not a hallucination of Chuuya’s own making, then. If he were in charge of the world around him, he’d make a world where people were not singled out for their looks or life circumstances.

…And probably make a lot of these people shorter, because jeez. Are they trying for the world height record or something around here?!

Chuuya continues watching as the civilians on the street move out of the way, giving the costumed idiot a clear path to the young girl. The girl is trembling; Chuuya bites his lip. He knows he has no place butting in when he doesn’t know where he is or what is going on, but come on. How many times has he been forced to stand by and watch when he could have stepped in? With The Port Mafia, even with The Sheep, there were rules that he had to follow. Saving all those that his bleeding heart pangs for was not a part of any of those rules.

A second costumed idiot joins in, placing the young girl between the two of them with no place to run.

Even from all the way up here, Chuuya can see the fear in her eyes. It’s a fear he knows well, one he saw everyday when he lived on the streets. In this girl, he can see the members of The Sheep, all those he ended up letting down in the end.

Maybe it’s stupid and irresponsible. If Dazai were here, he would surely chew Chuuya out for even considering it.

But Dazai isn’t here. And neither is Mori, or the Port Mafia. This isn’t his Yokohama, so none of the people who could stop him are here.

Chuuya activates his ability, For The Tainted Sorrow thrumming to life in his veins, and he leaps off the building. It only takes a moment to drop to the ground, landing hard enough the road cracks beneath him.

Around him, the civilians start to scream. Strangely enough, they don’t run off. Yeah, they back off and give some space for Chuuya and the costumed idiots to duke it out, but they don’t run. Instead, they are watching like this is live action TV; some are even recording on their phones.

Yep. Definitely not his Yokohama. The people back home have good survival instincts.

“Hey,” Chuuya calls out, smirking at the two costumed idiots who are now looking between him and the scraggly young girl suspiciously. “Why don’t you leave that young lady alone? Pick on someone your own size?” Chuuya ignores the fact that this girl looks to be about the same height as him.

“Don’t do anything rash, kid.” The larger of the two, this one wearing a blue color scheme, warns. “Don’t you know who this is? Getting close to her could be dangerous—!” They cut off with the familiar gurgle of blood. The watching civilians clue in and finally start screaming and running away.

The young girl pulls her knife from the costumed idiot’s throat and scowls at Chuuya.

“I had them right where I wanted them!” The girl complains. She brings the knife to her mouth, her tongue flashing out to lick along the flat edge.

“Really?” Chuuya eyes the second costumed idiot, this one with a green color scheme, who is trying to run away. It takes half a thought to increase the gravity on them, quickly turning them to a puddle of crushed bone and bloody mush.

“Hey!”

Chuuya’s eyes widen and he leans back to dodge a swipe of the girl’s knife.

“What’d you do that for, dummy?!” The girl’s amber eyes are furious. “You ruined her! She was so pretty too, would’ve looked lovely covered in blood.” The girl sighs dreamily, then shakes her head and scowls at him again. “But you—” She trails off again, the bloodlust leaving her eyes as she takes the time to actually look at Chuuya. He raises a ginger eyebrow as she slowly scans him from head to foot.

“Oh.” Then the girl blushes. Ah, great. “I didn’t realize how pretty you are… I’m Himiko Toga, but you can call me your girlfriend, if you want!” She skips right up to him and latches onto Chuuya’s arm before he can stop it from happening.

“Um. I’m Chuuya.” He squints at her. “Aren’t you, like, a teenager?”

Himiko squints back at him. “Yeah? You are too, so I don’t see what the big deal is.” She sighs happily and presses closer to him. Chuuya uses his ability to deflect the blade that stabs for his side.

“See, we’re made for each other! Your hair is pretty close to the color of blood, you know.” She leans closer as if sharing a secret. “I bet it would be even prettier streaked with blood.”

“Ah.” Chuuya uses his ability to extract himself from the girl’s grasp. “Okay, no. Listen, Himiko—”

“My name sounds so perfect coming from you!”

“—I’m eighteen. Sorry, but we can’t be together.” Not that he had any interest in the first place; she’s way younger than him and is female.

Instead of sobbing and dramatically running off, like the other girls Chuuya has turned down, Himiko leans in close and sniffs him. Weird, but Chuuya has seen stranger things, so he lets it happen.

Her eyes widen. “Oh! Oh, I get it. You’re already in love. Don’t worry, Chuuya, I don’t get in the way of true love!” She salutes him, her eyes gleaming brightly. “Good luck wooing your lady. Later!” The girl scampers off, stopping only to scoop up the corpse of the costumed idiot she stabbed through the neck, then disappears into the nearest alley.

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Him in love? That would be quite something indeed. If Dazai were still around, he’d have never heard the end of something like that.

The sound of sirens fills the air, and as he does not want to deal with the cops, Chuuya activates his ability and takes to the rooftops, quickly parkouring away from the scene.

Well, with that out of the way, it’s about time Chuuya figured out where the fuck he is.

One internet café visit later — and, after discovering that his phone does still get signal and let him use his data plan to google things so there was no need to go to said internet café — and Chuuya knows a significant more about this place. Namely, it is most certainly not where he belongs. This is a world of superheroes and villains, of blatant white and black, with no grey areas. The Port Mafia was all about operating in those grey zones: protecting Yokohama and working with the government, but also handling illegal dealings and, you know, murder.

In this world, it seems like doing such things would get you punched by the big blond doofus everyone calls the number one hero. Cause yeah. Heroes are apparently ranked on how good they are or something. Really, they should be ranked on how bad their costumes are, cause oh boy. Chuuya would never be caught dead wearing most of those.

However, since all he found out from his research is that this is not his world, Chuuya returns to the scene of the crime to investigate and see if he can figure out a way home. Currently, he is banking on the ability that sent him here having a time limit. If there is a time limit, then at some point the ability will wear off and just boot him back to his world. Minimal effort for all parties.

The problem with that hope is that Chuuya has no proof of how the ability works. It is pure hopeful speculation. So, if there is no time limit, then he needs to figure a way back home himself.

Unfortunately, planning and figuring things out and whatever is not his strong suit. It’s not like he’s dumb or anything, but when working with a partner like Dazai, Chuuya never had to do any of the planning or big thinking. By the time he realized that they needed to figure something out, Dazai was already on the next step of the puzzle. Needless to say, Chuuya just gave up on all that and let Dazai do the masterminding.

It only takes a few hours of jogging and rooftop-hopping (with a medium amount of internal aching, so nothing too worrying) to bring him back to the construction site he first landed in. Thankfully, it is now late enough that it is void of construction workers.

Chuuya takes his time looking around. He carefully examines every scuff mark in the dirt, every blemish on the beams making up the structure around him, and mentally catalogues the different footprints he spies. However, while such steps are great for investigating a regular crime scene, they do not help much in Chuuya’s case. Knowing that there are three construction workers who wear the same shoes does not help him figure out how to portal back to his world.

“This is so fucking typical.” Of course his first mission without Dazai has to go so sideways. If that mackerel were here, then— actually, odds are the ability wouldn’t work on Dazai. So, even if they were still partners, Chuuya would be stuck in this mess alone anyway.

…But it would be nice to know that someone was worried and looking for him, even if that someone was Dazai.

Because, honestly, Mori doesn’t care. If Chuuya is gone, Mori will probably mope around a bit at the loss of such a strong weapon, then move on. At the end of the day, the mafia sees him as a weapon, and weapons are replaceable. Even Kouyou, for all she pretends to care, has expressed similar thoughts.

So, they won’t be looking for him. They’ll think he turned traitor and ran off, like Dazai did. They’ll spend a week or so searching for signs of him, then call it a day and label him as an enemy that is to be shot on sight.

If Chuuya wants to get back to his world, preferably before that happens and he loses the only home he has left, then he needs to figure this out by himself.

Groaning, Chuuya tips his head back to look up at the stars and takes a long, steadying breath. He can do this. All the ridiculous and insane situations he has gotten into in the past were manageable, so this is too. It doesn’t matter that this is the only time he’s been totally alone, he can do this. He’ll get home, murder the fucker that sent him here, and do so before the mafia writes him off as a traitor.

He takes a determined step and nearly eats dirt as his leg gives out.

“Wha— dammit!” Chuuya glares at his right leg as if scowling will get it to fix itself.

Great. It really shows how distracted with this whole situation he is that Chuuya didn’t even notice his body trying to shut down.

“Stupid fucking Arahabaki.” As if using his body as a conduit isn’t good enough, the dumb god just has to give Chuuya horrible after-effects of using that part of his ability. Jeez, he probably only held out this long without anything giving out on him thanks to whatever they did at that hospital he was in this morning.

Well, at least his leg didn’t give out while he was parkouring here, that would’ve been extra annoying.

Huffing, Chuuya settles on his butt in the cold dirt. He manhandles his right leg out straight, then sets to digging his thumbs into the muscles to kickstart them. Given this is not the first time a limb has decided to quit on him during post-Corruption use (it isn’t a side effect that happens every time, but it does happen more often than not), Chuuya knows how to deal with it.

…Well, his usual method won’t work. He doesn’t exactly have Dazai around to carry him back to his apartment and hover for a day or two in that anxious-silently-concerned way that Dazai does.

But whatever. He knows how to massage his limbs back to functional. That’s the part that matters.

As Chuuya is grinding his knuckles into his thigh, something moves in the corner of his eye.

He pauses his motion and twists to get a better view: there is a steel beam hovering in the air by itself. And it’s moving. Chuuya squints. There is no way that beam is moving by itself. After a moment, he can kind of make out a figure standing at the end of the beam, but it’s hard to be sure if that’s a person or just part of the structure.

“…Hello?”

There’s a high-pitched shriek and the beam is dropped to the ground. Ah, a person then.

Said person wastes no time coming over to where Chuuya is sitting on the ground. They come into view, revealing brown hair cut to her chin, round auburn eyes, pinkish cheeks, and baggy black clothes that don’t fit her quite right. The girl — a teenager, Chuuya guesses — plants her hands on her hips and scowls at him. It feels like being glared at by a puppy.

“You can’t be here!” The girl declares. “This is private property, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave right now.”

“You’re here too,” Chuuya points out. He goes back to kneading his leg; his gut tells him this girl is harmless. “So, it seems like we’re both trespassing then.”

“What! No! I’m allowed to be here. My parents own the construction company that is working here.”

Chuuya hums. “Then why are you sneaking around, moving beams and shit, in the middle of the night?”

“I— well, I’m helping! We’re a bit behind schedule, so I figured I could come move some beams with my quirk and speed things up a bit. So,” the girl’s scowl deepens, “what are you doing out here?”

“Sitting.” Chuuya shrugs. He pauses in his massage to pat the ground next to him. “You’re welcome to join me, if you want.”

The girl hesitates for a moment, then plops down a couple feet off to his side.

“I’m Chuuya,” he introduces himself. “Don’t worry about the trespassing or whatever, I’ll be outta here once my leg decides to work again.”

“Oh! Are you hurt?” The girl frowns and peers at his leg as if she’ll be able to detect an injury through his pants.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Just happens sometimes if I overuse my abi— quirk.” Ah, yes. Abilities are called quirks here, for whatever reason.

“Oh.” This time the girl nods. “I get that. If I use mine too much, it makes me sick. I’m Ochako, by the way.” She twists and holds her hand out to him. “Nice to meet you, Chuuya!”

“Yeah, sure.” Chuuya shakes her hand, raising an eyebrow at the way she curls her pinky in so that it presses against her own palm when they shake hands.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Chuuya massaging his stupid leg and Ochako watching the stars above them. Good thing it’s summer, otherwise sitting out this late at night might be cold. Well, cold for Ochako; Chuuya’s mafia coat does a decent job keeping him warm.

“So,” Ochako starts, breaking the silence. “I’m just gonna, uh, go move a few more beams. I think I can do a couple more before I reach my limit…” The teenager stands, brushes off her butt, and marches determinedly over to the huge beams that are apparently waiting to be moved.

Chuuya watches, a little curious to see a so-called ‘quirk’ in action. The girl plants all five fingers on one of the beams and it rises in the air, weightless. He sits up straighter.

“Gravity?” He calls out to the girl. She startles slightly but doesn’t drop the beam this time.

“Oh, yeah! My quirk is called Zero Gravity, so basically the things I touch become weightless. It’s not useful for that much, but I can help move the heavy things around the construction yard.” She shrugs bashfully, as if gravity isn’t the most badass ability.

Chuuya grins. “Huh. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met another gravity manipulator before.”

It takes Ochako a second to get it, but once she does, her round eyes open impossibly wider. She claps her hands together happily, and subsequently drops the floating beam.

“Oh my gosh! Seriously? You’ve got a gravity quirk too?! That’s so cool! I’ve never met another person with a gravity quirk either! What’s yours called? Do you have a way to avoid getting nauseous?” Ochako scampers back over, the construction forgotten in favour of the stars gleaming in her eyes.

Chuuya leans back. That is far too much eagerness from a kid who doesn’t know him.

“Um. It’s called For The Tainted Sorrow. And, like I said, I can manipulate gravity.”

Ochako cocks her head. “That’s a really weird name for a quirk. Why’d your parents put something so random on your quirk registration?”

Chuuya shrugs. “I dunno. If I ever meet them, I guess I’ll ask.” The statement has the wanted effect: Ochako winces and looks away, no doubt feeling guilty for bringing up a ‘sensitive’ topic. Whatever. Chuuya just didn’t want her asking about the name of his ability. For The Tainted Sorrow sounds cool, way cooler than something boring and basic like Gravity Manipulation. Besides, he didn’t name his ability, that’s just what it’s called. And since it sounds cool and badass, Chuuya won’t be changing it.

“Sorry,” Ochako murmurs, shuffling awkwardly.

“It’s fine.” Chuuya digs his thumb deep into the muscle of his thigh, and his foot spasms this time. Ugh, finally. The numbness begins to slowly be pushed out with each press of his thumbs, allowing the near-painful tingles of nerves waking up to take over.

Once it’s all over with, Chuuya wastes no time shoving up to his feet. His leg wobbles a bit but holds.

“Hey, kid. Want me to show you how it’s done?” Chuuya jerks his thumb towards the pile of heavy metal beams the girl was trying to move.

Ochako perks up and nods eagerly.

Chuuya flexes his fingers and grins. It’s not often he gets to show off just for the sake of showing off, and never for a willing audience.

He walks confidently to the pile of beams, activating his ability along the way so red flares around him. Reaching the pile, he brushes his knuckles against the top one and removes the gravity from every one of the beams in the pile. He turns to Ochako as the beams rise to hover off the ground, wobbling a little more than they should thanks to his own exhaustion, and smirks.

“So? Where do you want these?”

Ochako guides the beams where she wants them, then, once Chuuya sets them all down and returns normal gravity to each, deactivating his ability, she spins to him.

“That was so cool! You’re so cool, Chuuya! Do you think you could help me learn to do that? You lifted, like, fifteen beams at once! I can hardly move one!”

Chuuya shrugs, unable to stop a small smirk from growing on his lips. It’s nice to hear praise like that sometimes. A nice contrast to being yelled at for messing something — there’s always something — up again.

“Just takes practice, kid.”

“Well, maybe we can practice together!” What. “Yeah, that would be great! Can we meet here again tomorrow night?” Ochako clasps her hands together in front of her, as if begging Chuuya to agree.

…He is weak. She’s smiling at him like he is a cool, impressive person, something more than the mafia’s weapon.

“Sure. Whatever.” Chuuya averts his eyes, unable to stand the glee shinning in her eyes any longer. “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”

Instead of cheering at Chuuya’s agreement, he detects a dip in the girl’s energy.

“…Do you not have somewhere to go?”

Ah. Whoops.

“It’s fine,” Chuuya waves off her concern. “I can take care of myself, and it’s almost morning anyway.”

“It’s just past midnight.” Ochako is frowning now, an obvious furrow in her forehead. Then it clears, and she’s back to grinning. “Ok, well, you can just come stay the night at our house! I’m sure my parents won’t mind, and I think we have an extra futon somewhere. Plus, Mom is always telling me I should bring friends over, so she can’t even get mad at me for bringing you over without asking!”

How on earth did she come to any of those conclusions?

“Uh, really, I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Oh, come on!” Ochako grabs Chuuya’s gloved hand and starts tugging him away from the construction site. “It’ll be fun. I’ve never had a sleepover before!”

Well, Chuuya could dig his heels in and rip his hand from hers, but he also doesn’t want to let a young girl walk back home alone at this hour. So there. It’s settled. He’ll walk her home, then slip away once she’s safe. He’ll find a good rooftop somewhere to crash for the night, then get back to finding a way home in the morning.

His plan is shredded once they get to Ochako’s home. She knocks on the door, still holding Chuuya’s hand and twisting to grin happily at him every few seconds. The door swings open, and Chuuya can see his own surprise reflected back at him.

“Kid?” Ruki Uraraka’s surprise melts into relief. “Oh goodness, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Shit, it’s you.” Chuuya says at nearly the same time.

Ochako looks between the two of them and tightens her grip when Chuuya tries to sneakily extract his hand. “Dad? How do you know Chuuya?”

Uraraka steps aside, moving out of the doorway so they can enter. Ochako goes eagerly, but this time Chuuya does plant his heels. The girl is jerked to a halt. She turns back to him and frowns.

“Come on, Chuuya. Mom and Dad won’t mind if you stay over, really.” She tugs their linked fingers, trying to lure Chuuya inside with wide, kind eyes. It’s awfully tempting.

“Look, I really should go now—”

“Oh, nonsense!” Uraraka smiles warmly. “Please come in, Chuuya— that is your name, correct?”

Chuuya nods numbly.

“It’s late, there are no trains running at this hour and you must be exhausted! You’ll stay the night.”

“But—”

“Marya! We have a guest!”

“Mom! I brought a friend over; we’re having a sleepover!”

Ochako tugs again and this time Chuuya is too shocked to react properly. He lets himself be tugged indoors, which is the biggest mistake he’s made in a while.

The reason is quite simple: the Urarakas are too nice.

At a quick glance, Chuuya can tell that his coat alone costs more than their entire main room. Yet, despite any financial ends they might have to meet, they still offer him their spare futon, a space to sleep (next to Ochako, who wouldn’t have it any other way, since this is now a ‘sleepover’ or whatever that means), and they shove food (Chuuya reluctantly accepts an energy bar, which is safe as it came in a wrapper) at him when he admits to not having eaten anything all day.

They’re too kind. It’s unnerving. And the worst part is that Chuuya can tell they don’t expect anything in return; they’re just being genuinely nice.

He isn’t sure how to deal with such things, and ultimately caves, agreeing to stay the night.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Chuuya wakes before any of his hosts.

Excellent. Just as planned. For once, the loud hissing of the god in his mind is appreciated.

He silently crawls out of bed, folds his bedding, changes into his clothes — it is mildly embarrassing that he fit in the pink sleep shorts and shirt Ochako lent him for the night — and sneaks out of the room, leaving an innocently snoring Ochako behind. It’s fine. So what if he promised to help her practice her quirk? She’ll get over it. It doesn’t matter that the kid has been nothing but sweet, or that Ruki and Marya (Ochako’s parents insisted on being called by their first names) were kind and happy to have him stay over, even with such short notice.

Chuuya hesitates, his gloved hand on the doorknob of the front entrance.

“…Goddammit.” Chuuya spins back around and stomps to the kitchen.

One meal. He’ll cook them breakfast as thanks for putting up with him last night, then be outta here. Chuuya is a very busy mafia executive who needs to figure out how to create a portal to take him back to his world, he doesn’t have time to play at making friends.

Besides, having friends never turns out all that well for him: The Sheep, The Flags, Dazai… not one of them is still around.

Weapons like Chuuya just aren’t meant to have friends.

Scowling, Chuuya viciously shakes his head and sets to digging through the cupboards to see what he can cook. If he were sure his credit cards worked in this world, Chuuya would just order the ingredients he wants to use, but it’s a smarter plan to try buying something cheap with a credit card first to see if they decline or not. As such, he does not have his usual ingredients to work with.

While there are not many options, he does manage to cobble together something. It’s not fancy, nor exactly a typical breakfast, but whatever. He’s hungry, katsudon is tasty and filling, and he knows how to make it.

Chuuya is in the middle of messing around with the switches on the oven when a loud yawn and shuffling footsteps warn him of an approaching person.

“What a lovely morning. Weather seems nice… hopefully it doesn’t get too hot, though. Construction work is always tricky in such extreme weather— oh!” Marya Uraraka, a kind brown-haired woman of medium height (ie taller than Chuuya by about three inches), smiles at him as she spots him. “Good morning, Chuuya. I didn’t think you would be up already.”

He shrugs. “I don’t sleep much.” Would it be nice to go back to bed? Absolutely. But he has a howling Arahabaki in his brain, so sleep is difficult on the best of days.

“Well, it is certainly a pleasant surprise to have company in the morning.” Marya shuffles past Chuuya and flicks on the coffee machine, humming a cheery tune as she goes.

They hover in the same space in a comfortable, warm silence, with Chuuya cooking and Marya washing and putting away some dishes that were left in the sink last night. Even though he only met this woman a handful of hours ago, it’s nice to just exist in the same space as her. There is no pressure to act a certain way, no need to say anything at all, they can just be.

If this peacefulness of being around someone else and knowing they aren’t trying or plotting to kill you is what normal civilian life is like, maybe people are onto something with it after all.

After maybe a half an hour, Ruki wanders into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Darling!” The man swoops over and steals a kiss from his wife, making her grin. “Ah, something smells great, what’s cooking?” Ruki turns his gaze from his wife to the oven, where he spots Chuuya awkwardly watching the domestic scene.

“Uh, hey.” He gives a tiny wave, suddenly unsure if he should’ve just left and not bothered with the thank you meal. Sure, the peacefulness of this morning is beyond pleasant, but Chuuya doesn’t fit. He’s the dark, jagged-edged puzzle piece that doesn’t belong to the pretty picture; the mafia black and the blood on his hands just does not match with this kind of cheery, innocent domesticity.

But, for whatever reason, the Urarakas don’t seem to notice how badly he sticks out.

“Chuuya!” Ruki grins. “I’m glad to see you’re still here. I was a bit worried you’d run off in the middle of the night. I take it you’re staying for breakfast?” It’s said like a question, but the expectant look in the man’s warm brown eyes says otherwise. It’s not a question, it’s a polite demand. They actually do want him to stay for breakfast.

“Yeah.” Chuuya averts his gaze. “Figured I’d cook, pay you all back for letting me stay the night or whatever.” He quickly busies himself with checking on the food to have something to do, thus missing the look Ruki and Marya exchange.

“Well, just know that you are welcome to stay for as long as you’d like.” Marya reaches over and pats Chuuya’s shoulder. He tenses, his arm spasms, and the nerves from his shoulder to his fingertips shut down.

“Dammit.” Chuuya glares at his arm, and pokes it, scowling as the stupid thing sways limply. Then he sees the confused look on the Urarakas’ faces. “Ah, sorry. The nerves in my arm died. Um, thanks for your hospitality and all that shit, but I’ll be outta here after breakfast.”

“Your arm what?!” Ugh, that is far too much visible concern. Chuuya stares down at his arm and starts massaging the limb back to life with his working hand to avoid the couples’ worried looks.

“Just happens sometimes,” Chuuya mutters once they stare long enough it’s clear they aren’t going to stop being worried. “Quirk side-effect. It’ll wear off in a bit and shouldn’t happen again.” Another night of four or five hours of sleep should kick the last dredges of post-Corruption use. He can already feel that this limb will come back online much quicker than his leg last night.

“Why don’t you sit down, dear?” Marya nudges him over to the kitchen table, and Chuuya lets her do so. “Rest. I can take care of breakfast from here.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks.” His tone is stiff, and he sits awkwardly on the worn wooden chair Marya ushers him onto.

Chuuya remains sitting rigid even as Ruki joins him at the table with a cup of coffee, Ochako wakes up and bounds energetically over to join them, and Marya serves the katsudon Chuuya cobbled together. They keep asking him if he’s alright, if he needs anything, if they should bring him to the hospital, and what they can do to help. It’s overwhelmingly sweet, which ruffles Chuuya’s instincts the wrong way. He wonders if it’s possible to suffocate someone with kindness.

It takes them a few minutes of pestering, but eventually Chuuya is able to convince the family of three that he is not dying and does not need a hospital. From there they move onto other conversation. Given the Urarakas have lots to talk about — whether this is normal or something special is happening, Chuuya has no idea — Chuuya mainly sits in silence, listening as the three of them easily carry the conversation. He bobs his head along, massaging his arm back to usefulness, and lets their easily flowing banter roll over him.

As Chuuya’s fingers finally flex and his nerves prickle, coming back online, Ochako hops onto a new topic.

“Oh, did you guys hear? Thirteen was called over to Tokyo to help with a collapsed building. They managed to save the two people that were trapped beneath the rubble!”

“That’s great, dear!”

“Oh, what a relief. Those poor people must have been so scared.”

…So it seems Chuuya is the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Who’s Thirteen?”

Wide, auburn eyes stare at him, shocked. Then Ochako grins, clapping her hands together. “They’re my favourite hero! The Space Hero, Thirteen! They’re a rescue hero who uses their quirk, Black Hole, to destroy rubble and debris, saving people. I want to be a rescue hero too, though I don’t think my Zero Gravity will be as useful as Black Hole.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Oh please. Regular gravity is much better than black holes, trust me.”

“Okay?” He gets an odd look for that statement. “But anyway, Thirteen is awesome! I’ll find my old newspaper clippings so you can see what they look like.”

Chuuya shrugs and pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s still got seventy percent or so, more than enough for a quick google. He taps the name into the search bar and turns the screen to Ochako, who is sitting next to him, once the figure in what looks like a large, white snowsuit shows up.

“This them?”

“Yeah!” Ochako nods enthusiastically. “Aren’t they just so cool?!”

“Uh. Sure.” Chuuya’s half-hearted agreement seems to be good enough for the eager kid, whose smile has only grown larger. Jeez, is this level of giddiness the normal amount for sharing information on one’s interests?

Chuuya glances around the table, realizing that everyone is now done breakfast. They’re just sitting around talking. Wasting time.

“Right then.” Chuuya stands up, pocketing his phone. “Thanks for having me. See ya around.” He doesn’t even get to take a step before Ochako leaps from her chair and latches onto his arm like a human leech.

“Wait, you don’t have to go! Right Mom? Dad? Chuuya can stay longer, right?”

“Of course, honey.” Ruki quickly replies, Marya nodding along. “Chuuya is welcome to stay as long as he’d like.”

“I’m good to go now, actually.” Chuuya is ignored.

“But he said he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, so he should stay here, right?” Ochako stares at her parents, her determination unwavering. Ruki and Marya glance at each other. Chuuya really does not like the way Ochako’s determination transfers over to them.

“Okay,” Chuuya shakes Ochako off him. “No. I’m not staying any longer. Thanks for having me, but I’m really good to head out now.”

Marya frowns at him. “Dear, why don’t you call your guardian? I’d feel a lot better about letting you head off if someone came to pick you up.”

“Exactly,” Ruki chimes in. “I’m sure they’re worried for you, son. Plus, it would be good for us to meet them, that would make any future playdates you and Ochako have much easier on all of us!”

“Dad! Come on, I’m fourteen! No one says playdate anymore!”

…Wait a damn minute.

“How old do you think I am?” Chuuya receives three confused looks.

There’s a moment of silence, then:

“Fifteen?” Ochako offers, shrugging. “I mean, you seem older than me, but maybe I’m wrong.”

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya grumbles – apparently not quiet enough, because Marya gasps at his language. “I’m eighteen. I don’t have a guardian because I’m a legal goddamn adult.”

“…Really?” Ruki holds his hands up in a placating manner as Chuuya scowls at him. “I’m sorry, but you just don’t seem like an adult.”

Chuuya looks between the three Urarakas, then shakes his head. “Unbelievable. It’s my height, isn’t it?” None of them meet his gaze. Chuuya groans. “Goddammit, I knew there had to be a reason I kept getting IDed at the bar.” And since Dazai is an asshole, his ex-partner only laughed and never explained whenever Chuuya complained about bartenders needing to check his ID. Sure, he understood when he was underage and was using a fake ID, but once he turned eighteen and had an actual ID, they should’ve let him be.

Ochako shrugs. “You are kinda short for an eighteen-year-old.”

“Still taller than you,” Chuuya mutters back.

“I’m fourteen.”

“So?” Chuuya’s scowl deepens, and for some reason that makes the girl grin.

She spins to face her parents. “So, can we keep him?”

What.

“Ochako, sweetie, we can’t force Chuuya to stay with us if he doesn’t want to.” Ruki says.

“Though he is welcome to stay whenever he’d like to,” Marya adds.

“Please?” Ochako turns to Chuuya and pouts. “We have almost the same quirk, plus you’re super cool, and we’re already getting along! You’d be a great big brother, I can tell!”

…What?!

“Kid.” Chuuya sighs. “You’d want to murder me in three days.”

“Siblings bicker all the time!”

“I’m a horrible person, you just don’t know that yet.”

“You made us breakfast this morning!” Ruki and Marya nod along like Ochako is making sense, and Chuuya groans. No. This is not happening.

“I’m dangerous,” Chuuya tries. “I’ve killed people.”

Finally. Ochako does waver a bit at that. Good, now the Urarakas will get scared and kick him out, and this whole mess will be over with.

Then Ochako clenches her fists and lifts her chin. “Siblings would totally help each other cover up murder!”

Chuuya facepalms.

“Ochako,” Marya starts, “I understand that you’ve always wanted a sibling, and while we can offer Chuuya support as I’m sure he was in a very dangerous situation where he didn’t have a choice but to kill, we should not encourage murder.” Ruki nods like his wife’s words make sense and aren’t utterly ridiculous.

“Right, sorry Mom.”

“Y’all are fucking insane.” Chuuya groans. “I tell you I’ve killed people and your response is ‘oh it’s fine, just try not to in the future’? Seriously?”

“Well,” Ruki shrugs, “we’ve all had our fair share of crimes. I was arrested for armed assault.”

“They got me for jewelry robbery,” Marya sighs. “A shame too, that last piece would’ve gone for quite a sum.”

Gaping, Chuuya turns to Ochako and waits.

The teenager shrugs. “Shoplifting. I haven’t been caught though, so don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Fucking insane,” Chuuya repeats, this time with a grin on his lips.

“So, you’ll stay and be my big brother?” Ochako grins. “I swear I’d be the best little sister ever.”

“Sure you would,” Chuuya snorts. Her eyes light up. “But no. I really do have to get going.” It only hurts a little to see that hopeful light in the teenager’s eyes shatter. “Um, bye.”

Chuuya activates his ability and rushes out of the home as quickly as he can, preventing anyone from stopping him this time.

Jeez, what a mess. He glances over his shoulder as he vaults up to the rooftop across the street, his gaze lingering a moment too long on the small house.

Scowling, Chuuya shakes his head and rips his gaze away before he can do something stupid like go back.

It takes only a handful of hours for Chuuya to realize that he is rather fucked. His credit cards all decline when he tries to buy a couple granola bars and water bottles, so he knocks out the cashier and steals said snacks along with a cheap backpack and a charging cord for his phone. The smaller items find a home in the front pouch of the bag, while his Port Mafia coat gets folded and delicately placed in the larger main pouch. It’s summer, and such a heavy coat is far too warm for the middle of the day summer sun.

Once finding a somewhat decently shaded alleyway, Chuuya tries calling all his contacts. Every single one of the calls does not connect, which he kind of expected, but it still sucks.

So, in total, he has no money, no way to contact anyone, nowhere to stay, no idea how to get back home, and no clue who to reach out to in this world to help him get home.

Hence his realization that he is totally fucked right now.

Sighing, Chuuya takes off his hat and runs a gloved hand through his hair, untangling the ginger strands that were winding together thanks to the heat.

Someone else steps into the alley.

Chuuya puts his hat back on and turns to face them, lifting his chin and subtly rising onto his tiptoes to look taller.

The extremely scarred newcomer spares him half a glance, then walks past Chuuya and shoves through the creaking door Chuuya didn’t see before. Curious, Chuuya follows, and finds himself in a bar.

“Oh, thank fuck.” He immediately walks up to the bar, intent on flagging the bartender. He is in serious need of wine right now — wine that he can’t afford. Damn.

Groaning, Chuuya sinks onto a bar stool and lets his forehead drop to the shiny surface of the bar.

“Bad day?” A very raspy voice asks.

Chuuya peeks towards the voice and finds that scarred guy he followed in here has claimed the seat next to Chuuya.

“Oh, you can certainly say that.” Chuuya sits up, leaning his elbows on the bar surface. “I’m broke and really want a drink.”

“Hmm.” The scarred man flags the bartender. Chuuya perks up. “Hey, I’ll have a whisky, and he’ll have a water.”

Chuuya’s jaw drops and he stares at the scarred man, incredulous.

Scar guy shrugs. “Hey, I might be a criminal, but I’m not helping some kid drink underage.”

“I’m eighteen!” Chuuya practically screeches.

Scar guy just shrugs. “Sure, kid.”

Chuuya lets his forehead thunk back to the bar surface. This day has just officially gotten worse.

The bartender slides scar guy an actual drink and Chuuya a tall glass of water, which he accepts and slowly sips at, totally not sulking.

“So, kid, what’s your deal?” Scar guy peers at him, sharp turquoise eyes far too soft for the rest of the man’s appearance. Dark purple scars stretch across his jaw and are dotted under his eyes, the healthy skin held to the scarred bits with painful-looking surgical staples. Dyed-black hair (yeah, Chuuya can see the guy’s white roots. Seriously, what a tacky dye-job), ripped black leather clothing, and a stain that looks suspiciously like blood on his sheer white shirt complete the look of a guy on the wrong side of the law. Like Chuuya himself.

But those eyes, watching him with a hidden softness, are the odd thing out.

“I’m Chuuya,” he introduces himself. “And I really am eighteen.”

“Uh huh. Haven’t heard that one before, kid. You can call me Dabi.”

Chuuya raises an eyebrow. “For a fake name, that’s pretty edgy.”

Dabi scowls back. “Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?”

Eh, fair enough. Chuuya takes another sip of his water, pretending it’s a nice red wine. His brain betrays him as soon as the liquid hits his tongue, and he misses the wine collection that’s sitting back home at his apartment all the more.

Chuuya takes a moment to think things through, then shrugs and tosses caution to the wind. “Hey, you know any quick ways to make some cash? I wasn’t lying when I said I was broke.”

“I do,” Dabi nods, staring down at his whisky. “Not exactly the type of work kids your age should be trying for, though. Hey, I think the MacDonalds a couple blocks over is hiring, try applying there first.”

Chuuya stares at his new acquaintance, thoroughly unimpressed. “I would rather commit double suicide with Dazai than ever be caught wearing a fucking MacDonalds uniform. Have you seen their visors?”

Dabi shrugs. “Just saying, you ought to try applying for a minimum wage job before dipping into the less legal side of things.”

“Too late for that.” Chuuya grins wirily. “Never had much of a choice but to work as the villain.” He examines the man next to him. “I have a feeling you get that.” No way would someone with scars like those be treated well by civilians.

“Look,” Dabi sighs. “I’ve got a job later today. If you really need quick money, you can tag along and we’ll split the profits fifty-fifty.”

“Deal.” Chuuya holds his hand out to shake, and Dabi hesitates.

“You have to promise to not do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

“Yeah, okay. Promise.” Not like this job will be anything Chuuya hasn’t seen before. He’s mafia.

Dabi finally shakes Chuuya’s hand. “And you can back out at anytime, alright? If we get there and you can’t do it, that’s fine. I’ll still split profits with you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Chuuya waves off the concern, but that does not seem to appease his new business partner.

“Right. I guess we’ll see about that.”

Ah, body disposal. No wonder Dabi was so certain Chuuya would wimp out.

“So,” Chuuya toes the nearest corpse with the tip of his boot. “You got a regular routine or are we just getting out the saws and going for it?”

Dabi looks a little disturbed by Chuuya’s lack of reaction to the six dead bodies lying in the old basement they were told to go to but recovers quickly. “You stack them up, I’ll roast them.” To prove his point, Dabi holds up a hand and blue flames swirl to life around his fingers.

“Huh, cool. So you’re like a personal cremator. That’s a handy ability.” One the Port Mafia would love to have. Disappearing people is easy enough to do if done right, but having the ability to simply turn them to ash would be beyond useful. Crushing them with gravity does leave evidence behind.

Chuuya wastes no time dragging the bodies to one large pile — dragging, not using his ability just yet. He doesn’t need to reveal it to everyone he stumbles across, that ruins any element of surprise he might otherwise have. Once the bodies are stacked up nicely, Dabi motions for Chuuya to move behind him.

“You’ll want to stand far back,” the older man advises. “It gets pretty hot.”

Chuuya takes an extra step back and clamps a hand onto his hat; no way is he losing his hat to a gust of hot air and flames.

Dabi sets to tossing brilliant blue flames at the bodies, and each one lights up. The fire does burn hotly, but it’s not as bad as Dabi was making it out to be. Chuuya inches closer, watching curiously as the flesh slowly melts and the bones beneath follow suit. Yeah, that’s a real handy ability.

In a matter of minutes, there’s nothing left behind but ash and a few splatters of dried blood here and there, most of which looks too old to have been from this round of corpses.

“Well, that was certainly a new experience.” Chuuya comments as the two of them climb the stairs leading out of the basement and up to the main level where the gang that hired Dabi awaits with their money.

“Really? You handled that well for someone who has never done disposal before.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. I’ve disposed of plenty of bodies, just never with fire.” At Dabi confused look, Chuuya shrugs. “Flames are obvious and smoke can be an issue. Was always easier to do it the messier way, even if slightly less effective.”

“Huh. Well, alright then. I guess—” Dabi cuts off as they exit the stairwell and find the gang that hired them armed and pointing their weapons at the two of them.

Dabi growls, flames flickering around his fingertips. “What’s the meaning of this?” He is glaring at a portly fellow Chuuya assumes is the gang leader.

For his part, Chuuya glances around at their adversaries. A few knives, baseball bats, and quirks. Honestly, how pathetic. It’s almost like being back home and having to deal with the upstart gangs that think they’re strong enough to compete with the Port Mafia. They were not, and Soukoku was always sure to remind them of that.

“Well, see, useful as you are, I’ve heard rumors that you’ve been working for other gangs behind my back, Dabi. We can’t have traitors like that living to talk about how they betrayed us.”

“I’m a private contractor,” Dabi snaps back. “You pay me to take care of things. I have that same arrangement with other organizations, yeah, because we never spoke of me working solely for you. If that were the case, you’d have to pay me triple what you already do.”

The gang leader shrugs. “If we kill ya now, then we don’t have to pay you anything.”

Dabi growls again, the flames at his fingertips flickering in and out.

“Kid,” Dabi murmurs, “make a run for it. I can hold them off long enough for you to escape.”

“Seriously?” Chuuya scoffs. “There’s, like, not even twenty of them.” He takes a confident step forward, drawing attention to himself.

“Kid, hang on now—”

“Hey, assholes.” Chuuya rolls his shoulders a couple times. “You ever fought someone that knows how to fight back?” Despite their posturing, they look uneasy. Chuuya scoffs again; odds are he won’t even need his ability for this.

“Dabi, your young friend is awful stupid.” The gang leader chuckles. “You should’ve let him at whatever playground you found him. Middle schoolers are too young for such things—”

Lightning fast, Chuuya dashes over and grabs the man’s wrist, flipping him to the ground and slamming an ability-enhanced shoe down on his chest. It crashes through bone, killing the man instantly.

“I’m not a fucking kid!” Chuuya growls as he pulls his foot out of the cavity he made in the now-dead man’s chest. “I’m just short!”

With their leader dead, the gang goons quickly disband, rushing to escape before they meet the same fate. Chuuya watches them run and sighs; he was kind of looking forward to a good fight.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Chuuya claps a hand on a stunned Dabi’s shoulder. “Let’s ransack the place and find our money.” Or whatever else they can steal that’s worth something, whatever. Chuuya was promised money, so he’s getting his fucking money and buying a bottle of wine and a nice hotel room for the next few days.

Unfortunately, the world seems to have other plans, since the gang’s base is relatively empty. There is a small pile of cash they found tucked in a jar, and a watch on the dead gang leader’s wrist that Chuuya let Dabi take (that guy is like Dazai-level skinny. Hopefully he’ll pawn the watch and use it to buy some decent food). So, after all that, Chuuya finds himself walking away with a handful of cash. Enough to either pay for a hotel room for a few nights or buy a nice bottle of wine.

Obviously, he makes the smart choice and buys the wine.

So, really, he has only himself and his not-addiction to blame for the fact that he’s currently sitting curled up under a cloth awning that hangs over a doorway on some random street. The stone steps are damp and gross thanks to the downpour that began as soon as the sun dipped out of the sky, and Chuuya is mildly certain that the costumed idiot — sorry, hero — that is walking on the other side of the street is about to head over and kick Chuuya from his place out of the rain.

He takes a long swing from the bottle of wine clasped tightly in his arms. No, he is not hugging the wine bottle. No, he is not addicted, despite what Dazai or anyone else says. Chuuya simply likes the taste of wine and tends to drink a little more than he should since he likes the warm buzzy feeling that comes with being drunk. The fact that being drunk shuts Arahabaki up is a nice bonus.

The hero across the street, their white outfit and blond hair soaked from the rain, looks over and makes eye contact with Chuuya. Ugh, great. He goes for another sip of his wine only to realize his bottle is already empty. Well, that’s unfortunate. And it explains why his vision is slightly fuzzy at the edges.

“Excuse me, sir!” The young hero jogs over, their red cape weighed down by water and dragging along with street. “Sir, you should head home. It’s getting late.”

“’M fine,” Chuuya slurs, blinking in confusion when his words sound fuzzy and his tongue feels thicker than it should. He only had one bottle, is he really that drunk already? Maybe wine is stronger in this world — that makes more sense than Dazai being right about Chuuya being a lightweight.

Thinking of his ex-partner, Chuuya scowls. “Stupid Dazai. Dumb fucking mackerel blew up my car.” He pouts down at his empty bottle. He just got that car. It was brand new and shiny and he never got to drive it because Dazai dramatically blew it up.

“Sir, is there someone I can call to come get you?”

“No.” Chuuya tugs his arm out of the young hero’s grasp. “Won’t come. ‘M fine. Jus’ go away.”

“Sir—”

Chuuya scowls and lurches to his feet. He grabs onto the young hero’s collar, dropping his wine bottle as he does so. It shatters at his feet.

“Leave me alone.” A bit of red seeps into his aura, a warning, and Chuuya drops the hero in favour of walking away. He doesn’t want to be here anymore.

He can hear the hero calling someone and that only pisses him off more. He doesn’t need some stupid hero stepping in and saving him or whatever, he just wants to go home.

The world starts spinning even worse than it was before as Chuuya activates his ability and runs off. Thankfully, even while mildly drunk and unable to see which direction is upright, Chuuya is more than capable of losing the young hero that calls out after him.

Chuuya blinks and realizes that he really doesn’t want to be in the rain anymore. It’s making him wet and ruining his hat. He doesn’t like that at all.

It doesn’t take too long before he finds himself nearing a house he recognizes. It’s small and worn but might also be one of the loveliest things he’s ever seen.

Chuuya finds himself knocking before he can talk himself out of it.

The door swings open, and he finds himself peering up at Marya Uraraka.

“Oh! Chuuya, dear, what are you doing out in that rain? You’ll catch cold! Please, come in.” She gently takes his arm and tugs him in where it’s warm. The concern in her eyes makes Chuuya’s bottom lip tremble. He doesn’t deserve kindness like that; he isn’t even a real human.

“Here,” the woman fusses, trying to help an unmoving Chuuya out of his wet clothes, “let’s get you out of those soaked clothes, I’m sure Ochako won’t mind sharing again—”

Chuuya lets out a pathetic sob and slumps against Marya’s shoulder. It’s warm and sturdy, and her hands quickly rise to pat his back, making him sob harder.

“Oh, dear, what happened? Are you alright?”

“Dazai was right,” Chuuya mumbles into the woman’s shoulder. “’M a useless and stupid dog.” Then Chuuya laughs hollowly, tears still tricking down his cheeks. “Not even that. A dog is closer to human than me. Just a bunch of code.”

“Honey, I’m not quite sure what you’re saying, but I’m sure that isn’t true.” A warm hand rises to pat at his hair.

Chuuya keeps sobbing, mumbled words even he doesn’t understand slipping past his lips every once and a while. Marya keeps hugging him, whispering soothing nonsense that actually does make him feel a bit better. He quickly runs out of energy and his legs give out. Marya grunts as Chuuya slumps all of his weight on her, his head spinning and quickly losing consciousness. Good. Sleeping with enough of a buzz should quiet Arahabaki for a somewhat decent length sleep.

“Marya, dear, is everything alright?”

“Ruki. Chuuya’s back. I think something is wrong.”

“Is he hurt?”

“I think he might be drunk. He was stumbling when he came in and his words weren’t making any sense.”

“Ah.” A finger pokes Chuuya’s shoulder. “Hey there, son. Are you still with us?”

Chuuya groans sleepily. He wants to pass out and not exist for a little while, please. It would be nice if the fuzzy voices stopped making noise.

“Why don’t we let him sleep it off and talk in the morning?”

“That’s a great plan, Darling.”

The voices finally shut up. Chuuya floats there for a few moments, then his brain shuts off and things go dark.

Chapter Text

When he wakes up, Chuuya has a godawful headache.

“Fuck me,” Chuuya groans, pressing at his temples. Why did he decide to drink his whole bottle of wine in one night? That could have been savoured over a few nights. Now he’s out of wine again and hungover.

“Hey, you’re awake!”

Chuuya moans and grabs the blanket that’s bunched around his waist, tugging it up over his head. Ochako is far too loud and bubbly for hangovers.

“Hm. Well, Mom and Dad said you probably wouldn’t feel good when you woke up, so I’ll go get Mom. She said she’d make soup for you.” Footsteps patter on the ground, starting off far too loud and fading away to blissful silence as the young girl leaves the room.

Chuuya does not get to remain in silence for long.

Three pairs of footsteps return, and the blanket Chuuya pulled up over his head is yanked away. He groans as a curtain is tugged open and bright light assaults his eyes.

“Chuuya, can you please sit up? You should have something to eat.” Marya’s voice is politely soft, but it still sounds too loud.

“I’m good, thanks.” Chuuya mumbles into the pillow he undoubtedly spent the night drooling on.

“Are you sick?” Ochako inquires. “You know, I’m pretty good at helping when Mom and Dad are sick. I’m a very good cuddler!”

“He’s a different kind of sick, Ochako.” There’s an amused note in Ruki’s voice that has Chuuya lifting his face from the pillow solely to glare at the older man. “But I’m sure cuddles would be greatly appreciated.”

“No, thank yo—” Chuuya wheezes as Ochako flops down next to him and wiggles in close, wrapping her arms around his torso. “Seriously,” he tries, “I’m perfectly fine. No need for… this.”

“Honey,” Marya sighs, “last night you were rather out of it. Now, I won’t ask what happened, though I would like a description of the Dazai character you kept complaining about so that I know to turn them away should they show up here, but if you dislike hugs that much, then perhaps hold off on coming home drunk again, m’kay?”

“Wasn’t drunk,” Chuuya mutters, “just tipsy.” The two parents exchange a disbelieving look.

“Well, in any case, eat up, son.” Ruki grins at him. “If you’ve got enough energy to be running around going to bars, you can come help out at the construction yard.”

Chuuya stares for a long moment, squinting against the brightness of the room, then realizes that he is indeed awake.

“What? How the fuck did you come to that conclusion?” He sits upright, wincing as shifting positions makes his headache pound worse, and subsequently knocks Ochako off him. Seriously, that kid must be half leech; she just invades personal space and doesn’t let go.

“It was my idea,” Ruki admits. “See, we’re behind on the build anyway, and if you came back here last night, then you do need a place to stay. We’re happy to have you, but we can’t afford for you to stay for free.” The man shrugs. “So, I figured you could help at the site. Ochako says your quirk would be helpful for it, any chance you’ve got a quirk license and can use it to help speed things along?”

“Um, yeah?” Chuuya lies. He’s a fucking Port Mafia executive, he doesn’t need a piece of paper to tell him whether or not he’s allowed to use his ability.

“Excellent. Now then, eat up. We’re leaving in an hour.” Ruki slides the bowl Marya set on the floor closer to Chuuya. He stares down at the soup, knows he should be grateful they wasted their food on him, but his stomach rolls and he thinks he’ll vomit if he tries to eat anything right now.

“Dad, can I come?” Ochako interrupts Chuuya’s musings about how to politely decline the free meal.

“No, dear. You’ve got your summer homework to do.” Marya pats her daughter’s hair. Ochako sighs and complains but does vacate the room — after giving a stiff Chuuya one last hug — alongside her father.

The Uraraka matriarch gives Chuuya a stern glare. “You’re eating that whole bowl.”

Chuuya wisely scoops the bowl up and begins to eat, ignoring his tight stomach. After only a couple bites, Chuuya finds himself suddenly ravenous and quickly devours the rest. Huh. He usually isn’t hungry after a night of drinking, so maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that this is the first meal he’s had that someone else cooked since he can remember.

“Good job.” Marya pats his head as Chuuya hands over the empty bowl. He quickly averts his eyes, warmth rising to his cheeks as his shoulders round in. Jeez, when was the last time he heard those words? And even if they’re said over something so mundane, it’s still really nice to feel like he did something right.

Then he’s hit with a memory of clinging to the woman’s shirt and sobbing uncontrollably, and Chuuya’s face is red for a whole other reason.

“Er, look. I— fuck, I’m sorry about last night. It was a huge mistake on my part to come here and bother all of you, so—”

“Oh, nonsense, dear.” Marya smiles at him. “Like we’ve been saying, you’re welcome here anytime, drunk and crying or otherwise. I know we don’t know each other very well, but you’ve made quite an impression on Ochako. She’s always had a hard time making friends, so we aren’t keen to drive you off. Besides, if you’re here, then we can all rest easy knowing that you’re safe and not out on the streets getting caught up in something dangerous.” Marya shrugs as if her words haven’t befuddled Chuuya.

“Now then. Ochako said it’s alright for you to borrow her work clothes, those are set over here, so get changed and meet us in the main room, alright?” Given that Marya doesn’t wait for an answer before shuffling out the door, Chuuya just stares blankly at her retreating back.

…He’s a mafia executive. He has no place here, no place playing house and letting strangers be kind to him when he’ll inevitably hurt them later on. As a mafia executive, he also has no reason to actually go along with any of this and help out with the construction task. He could just sneak out the window and be done with this.

But he should pay them back for letting him stay the night again. And to apologize for showing up mildly drunk.

So, Chuuya shoves to his feet, wobbles a bit before finding his balance, and sets to changing into Ochako’s navy t-shirt and jeans. They’re the kind of jeans that are practical, not fashionable, with stains and enough fade to them that it’s clear they’ve seen a lot of wear. Chuuya glares down at them as they slide over his hips and are just the right length in the leg. He does need a belt though, so he unravels his own from around the waist of the pair of black pants he just shucked off, and quickly winds it through the loops on these jeans. The navy t-shirt fits almost too perfectly.

If he weren’t wearing his gloves, hat, choker, and own shoes, Chuuya would almost believe he was a regular civilian heading off for work. As it is, he feels like a fraud.

Blearily rubbing at his eyes, Chuuya steps out of what he believes to be Ochako’s bedroom, entering the small hallway. Across the hall is a door that leads to the Uraraka parents’ room, and there’s a door at the end of the hall that leads to the bathroom. Turning the other direction leads to the main space, which is an open area containing the kitchen, table, a bookshelf, and a sofa. It’s small, not even half the size of Chuuya’s apartment, but filled with little homey touches just about everywhere that make it three times more of a home than Chuuya’s apartment ever was. Drawings and report cards are held to the fridge with magnets, family photos cover just about all the wall space, knickknacks are placed along shelves and countertops, filling that space as well.

It’s warm. It’s the kind of space Chuuya wishes he had known growing up. This is a childhood home one can proudly return to year after year for Christmas or whatnot, which Chuuya has no desire to do with the lab where he spent his youth.

“Chuuya, are you good at math?”

He blinks. Ochako is looking at him from the kitchen table, a stack of textbooks sprawled around her and a worksheet with many eraser marks already marring it.

“Uh, I have no idea.”

“Well, what grade did you get on geometry? It’s confusing me and the textbooks don’t help.”

Chuuya shrugs. “I never went to school.”

“Oh.” The girl’s face falls, but before Chuuya can do anything to reassure her that Chuuya really doesn’t care that he missed out on school — the social experience would’ve been fun, but the actual schooling itself sounds dreadfully boring — Ruki comes over and wraps a sturdy arm around Chuuya’s shoulders.

“Ready, son?”

“You know my name is Chuuya, right?”

“We’ll be back late, Marya! Ochako, please finish your math before we’re home so I can look it over tonight.”

“Have a good day, dear!”

“Bye, Dad! Bye Chuuya! Have fun!”

With the goodbyes out of the way, Ruki pulls a mildly shell-shocked Chuuya out of the house and to the old truck sitting in the driveway. It looks one bad bump away from falling apart, and seeing such a vehicle makes Chuuya think, again, about his poor new car that Dazai blew up.

“Hey, can I drive?” Chuuya asks.

Ruki just laughs at him and enters the driver’s side of the vehicle. Chuuya scowls at the man and reluctantly rounds the hood to climb into the passenger seat. He doesn’t bother with his seatbelt, knowing full well that if this thing crashes, his ability is more than enough to protect him.

But Ruki gives him a pointed look as the man clips his own seatbelt on and doesn’t start the truck.

Chuuya groans, mutters a few choice words under his breath, and puts on the damned seatbelt.

As soon as he does so, the vehicle rumbles to life and they start bumbling down the road, heading towards the construction site. It’s not that long of a drive, but it feels shorter than it is anyway. Ruki chatters the whole time, pointing out this and that, asking for Chuuya’s opinion on whatever random thing is mentioned over the radio, whatever. It’s a sharp contrast to the silent rides where Chuuya focused on driving them to their destination and Dazai stayed quiet, that stupidly large brain of his working overtime to calculate last minute plan stuff.

This way is much nicer and far less stressful.

It probably helps somewhat that Chuuya is on his way to move some heavy things with his ability rather than going headfirst into armed conflict.

They roll to a halt and the truck is almost immediately swarmed by the other workers. Chuuya doesn’t really bother to listen to any of them, figuring they’re all wanting to talk to Ruki, so he jolts when a finger pokes in through the open window on his side and jabs his shoulder.

“Yo, kid, you new?”

Chuuya raises an eyebrow. They most certainly know he’s not worked here before.

“Yeah,” he goes along with it. It’s too early and his hangover isn’t completely gone yet, so he doesn’t feel like riling anyone up and getting yelled at. “I’m Chuuya. I’m here to move all the heavy shit for you.” He grabs the doorhandle and the workers crowding his side of the truck move out of the way so that Chuuya can get out of the vehicle.

On the other side, Ruki climbs out too. “Chuuya,” the man calls, “what’s your quirk license number? I need it to fill out the appropriate paperwork so that you can legally help out.”

“…A5158,” Chuuya replies, hoping no one noticed his moment of hesitation. Who knows what numbers are supposed to be on a license, but the government (albeit not the one of this world, but whatever) did give him that designation, so it’s not a total lie.

“Alright, thanks. Do you mind going with Mertal? He’ll show you where we need the support beams placed.” A man Chuuya is assuming to be Mertal waves.

“Sure.” Chuuya tucks his thumbs in the pockets of Ochako’s jeans and begins making his way over to Mertal—

There’s a small whoosh, then a lack of weight on his head.

“Hey!” Chuuya shrieks, lunging to grab his hat back from the tall, grinning man that snatched it and is holding it up in the air, out of Chuuya’s reach.

“Kid, you’ll end up ruining your hat if you wear it—”

Chuuya punches the man in the gut and takes his hat back as the man doubles over, gagging.

Huffing, Chuuya places his hat back on his head and glares from under the brim at the rest of the construction crew.

“Anyone else got a problem with my hat?” No one speaks up, though some of them look far too amused for Chuuya’s liking. They should be afraid of him, not trying to hide snickers behind their fists.

He stomps over to Mertal and glares up (jeez, are all construction workers tall or something?) at the man.

“So? Show me what you want moved and where you want it.”

Mertal proves to be smarter than his coworker and, other than a glance at Chuuya’s hat, doesn’t say anything about it, choosing to instead do as Chuuya said and show him what he’s supposed to be moving. Considering moving beams is laughably easy for someone of Chuuya’s talent, he does so with ease, moving all the structural supports they thought would take the whole day in under an hour. The shocked looks are worth the slight tremble in his hands. Sure, he can move shit all day if need be, but he’s also still suffering from a hangover and the final dredges of post-Corruption use, so even Chuuya can get tired when all those conditions are stacked.

“Well,” Ruki slides up to him, offering Chuuya a sealed water bottle. Chuuya takes it. “I’ll be the first to admit that what you’ve done today is greatly impressive.”

“I just moved stuff,” Chuuya shrugs, cracking open the water and taking a small sip. “It’s not that special.”

Ruki laughs. “Clearly you don’t understand how much time you’ve just gained us. Seriously, son, this is impressive work.”

Chuuya shrugs again, unsure how to reply. This is not even close to his full potential and hardly worth praise… though it is really nice to hear. “Whatever. I guess I don’t mind helping out again sometime, if you want.” It was easy enough work and only took an hour of his time. Chuuya doesn’t exactly have all that much he needs to do right now, considering he has no idea how to go about planning a return trip to his world, so killing some time moving beams around might not be the worst thing. Hell, maybe he’ll even do some of it without his ability; that would certainly help keep his muscles active.

“I would appreciate that very much.” Ruki stays there a moment longer, than sighs, and pats Chuuya’s shoulder. “Well, I had best go help the others sort out some specifics, and I guess I’ll go ahead and order the windows early…” The man wanders off to go work, leaving Chuuya alone.

Chuuya finishes his water, finds a garbage bin for the now-empty bottle, and looks around for something else to do.

His eyes narrow as he spies a pair of workers carrying slabs of what look like stairs over. Chuuya jogs over to go help; that is certainly something he can do without his ability.

At the end of the day, Chuuya is pleasantly tired. His muscles ache, his hangover faded out sometime around noon, and he’s exhausted like he would be after a nice long sparring day.

“Well, thanks for giving me something to do today.” Chuuya holds his hand out, and, while clearly amused, Ruki shakes it.

“Anytime, son.”

“So, see you around.” Chuuya makes it two steps before being called back.

“Now hang on just a minute, young man!” Ruki scowls at him. “We had a deal, right? You help out at the construction yard, and we’ll let you stay as long as you need.”

“What.” Chuuya does not remember anything of the sort happening.

“So, hop into the truck, we’ve already been out late enough. Let’s go home.” Chuuya stands there, staring. The man sighs. “Oh, fine. I suppose you were a great help today. Here.” Keys are tossed his way, and Chuuya snatches them out of the air on instinct, perking up. “You can drive home.”

At the offer Chuuya stubbornly doesn’t care about anything else and scrambles into the truck, adjusting the seat and mirrors until they’ll work for him. Then he places a hand on the gear shift and grins. It’s a been too long since he got to drive a four-wheeled vehicle. His bike is great for going fast and taking sharp corners, but a large vehicle can be lots of fun to drive too. And since Dazai blew up his car…

Ruki yelps and grabs onto the handle attached to the roof of the car as Chuuya slams his foot down at the gas, lurching them forward, and continues accelerating even as he swivels onto the road, tires screeching, and heads down it.

“Chuuya! Slow down!”

Chuuya cackles and speeds up instead.

They make it back to the Uraraka residence in one piece. Chuuya parks the truck, turns to grin at Ruki, and immediately gets the keys swiped and a long lecture about car safety or whatever.

“—You don’t get to drive again unless it’s in a parking lot and we’re practicing, okay?”

Chuuya blinks. “Huh? But I have my license!” To prove his point, he digs out his wallet and sets to flipping through an obscene amount of coupon cards to find his current license. He does find the little sheet of plastic and holds it towards Ruki triumphantly.

“Chuuya, son, this is a motorcycle license.”

“So? Aren’t they the same thing? One just has more wheels.”

Ruki heaves a long sigh. “Let’s go in for supper. We can talk about this more later.” Chuuya shrugs. Whatever. He knows how to drive. Not his fault Ruki’s truck is old and didn’t take the sharp turns all that well.

They leave the truck and head into the Uraraka home, where Chuuya is immediately hit with the smell of something heavenly.

It’s only once he’s stepped into the house, kicked off his shoes, and started towards the tasty smell that Chuuya remembers he is supposed to be leaving.

But then he catches a glimpse of the meal spread out on the table — and the four place settings — and figures staying for one more meal can’t hurt anything.

So, Chuuya patters over and takes the empty seat next to Ochako.

“How’d it go?” Ochako asks the moment everyone is settled.

Figuring the question is for her dad, Chuuya stays silent, choosing to instead stare down at the food set before him and wonder if he’s ever seen food that looked so good before.

Then a finger pokes his shoulder, and Chuuya realizes the question was, in fact, for him.

“Oh, good? I like working out, so lugging stuff around was fun.”

“Chuuya was a great help!” Ruki adds in. “Quirk or not, I think he was more helpful than half my regular staff!” The three Urarakas chuckle at that, then Ruki continues once the laughs die out. “However, I do want it known that Chuuya is not allowed to drive the truck.”

“You let him drive?” Ochako whines, pouting at her dad. “How come I haven’t gotten to drive yet?”

“You’re fourteen,” Chuuya remind the girl. “And I have a license.”

“A motorcycle license,” Ruki mutters. “Don’t let him drive the truck, he tried to kill us.”

Chuuya huffs, rolling his eyes. “Hey, I got us here in one piece, and that’s usually good enough. We didn’t get shot at or pulled over, so it’s a win in my books.” He’s only sort of joking, but none of them laugh. Instead, he gets three concerned looks.

Ha, awkward silence.

“Anyway,” Chuuya clears his throat, looking back to the food. “Thanks for the meal, Marya. It looks delicious.”

“Of course, dear!” Then the woman frowns. “You don’t have any allergies, do you? I forgot to ask this morning.”

Chuuya shrugs. “Not that I know of.” She still looks worried, so Chuuya keeps going. “I mean, even if I did happen to be allergic to something, it can’t be worse than poison, so don’t worry about it.”

“Poison?!” Marya shrieks.

“Poison?!” Ochako perks up. “When did you get poisoned?”

“Ochako,” Ruki scolds. “That is really not the concern right now.”

“Sorry Dad.”

“Chuuya, are you alright?” Ruki half-rises from his seat at the table. “We can go to the hospital right now.”

“Oh nah, don’t worry about it.” Chuuya laughs awkwardly, fiddling with the brim of his hat. “Sorry, I forgot that isn’t normal. Uh, it was like two years ago and all Dazai’s fault, so it’s fine. I broke his collarbone as payback for him trying to kill us both and it was settled after that.”

The three Urarakas exchange a look Chuuya can’t decipher. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to matter too much, since Ochako is quick to move the conversation along.

“So, Chuuya. Mom said I couldn’t ask until after supper, but you brought him up so it’s your own fault.” The teenager girl smiles far too sweetly at him. A small warning bell pings in his mind and Chuuya subtly scootches away.

“Is this Dazai guy your ex?”

Chuuya’s brain slams to a halt.

Of all the things he was expecting to hear — mostly questions about the fact that he is clearly a criminal — that was not on the list.

As such, it takes him a few seconds to gape at Ochako and then start to screech. “WHAT?! Ew, no! I’d never date that fuckin—” Chuuya cuts off when he sees Marya narrow her eyes at his more colorful language, so Chuuya quickly swaps to French to finish cussing Dazai out appropriately.

Once done, Chuuya huffs and picks up his chopsticks — the other three are eating perfectly fine and given their shock at his mention of poison earlier, Chuuya highly doubts this food is poisoned — and angrily shoves food into his mouth.

“…He’s totally your ex.” Chuuya shoots a very smug looking Ochako a glare. “So, is he hot?”

Chuuya chokes.

Marya and Ruki also start panicking in their own ways, quickly trying to pull conversation in a different direction. Ochako rolls her eyes but lets it happen, which Chuuya is very grateful for.

Jeez, Dazai? Hot? Pfft, as if. Maybe if he didn’t wear those stupid bandages over half his face and actually let people see his eyes, which are maybe kind of a pretty hazel color, then he could have something going for him. But this is also Dazai, the guy that thought living in a storage container and washing himself and his clothes once a week was good enough. Chuuya is fairly certain Dazai doesn’t even own a hairbrush — not that Chuuya currently has any of his own prized hair products either, but still.

What a ridiculous notion.

The rest of dinner passes smoothly, or at least Chuuya thinks it’s smooth. No one is stabbed with any utensils, no one shouts at anyone else, and everyone finishes the meal smiling. An odd experience, that’s for sure, but a pleasant one.

Chuuya helps clear the table, makes it four steps towards the door, then Ochako is grabbing his arm and tugging him to her room.

“Come on! I cleaned when you were at work with Dad today.”

…He can leave later. It would be cruel to crush the happy sparkle in the teenager’s eyes.

Ochako drags him to her room and flings open the door proudly.

“Ta-da! What do you think?”

Chuuya blinks, not believing his own eyes. “I— hah?”

“Well,” Ochako steps deeper into the room, letting go of Chuuya’s wrist. “I figured that I ought to give you some dresser and shelf space, so I cleaned everything this afternoon! I may have done this instead of my math homework, but just don’t tell Dad that, okay?”

“Sure,” Chuuya replies instinctively, his gaze still stuck on the room before him.

It’s a small room already, but Ochako has gone and divided it in half. Her futon and blankets are piled to the left half, all her schoolbooks and personal items tucked neatly against the wall or on the left half of the two-level bookshelf. The same seems to have happened to the white and grey dresser tucked against the far wall, between the futons. The left drawers are full of Ochako’s things, while the right ones are slightly pulled out, showing their emptiness.

“So?” Ochako prompts, nudging him. “What do you think?”

“…You really want me to stay?” It seems ridiculous, but Chuuya can’t think of any other conclusion.

Auburn eyes stare back at him, amused. “Was I not obvious enough before? Yes, silly, I want you to stay!” Ochako smacks his bicep with the tip of her fingers. “I’ve always wanted to have a sibling, and it wasn’t exactly possible before, but you check, like, all the boxes!” The girl grins at him. “You’re cool, we have basically the same quirk, and we already get along super great!”

“You’ve known me for two days,” Chuuya objects. “I could be a serial killer.”

“You haven’t killed me yet.”

“But I have killed people.” When Ochako just shrugs, Chuuya sighs. “Seriously, how is the fact that I am literally a criminal and murderer not a problem for you?”

Ochako shrugs again. “You can’t choose the situation you were born into, Chuuya. I get good vibes from you, so I’d bet that it wasn’t your choice to do any of that.”

Chuuya groans, dragging a hand down his face. “’Good vibes’ is how you’re justifying this? Fucking hell, and here I thought Dazai was the insane one.”

Ochako squints at him. “Are you calling me insane?”

“No,” Chuuya groans. “I’m calling myself insane. Holy fuck, why am I even considering this as an option?” He really shouldn’t. It’s a terrible idea that is only going to lead to problems down the road.

Chuuya sighs and walks over to the empty right half of the room. Hesitantly, he takes off his hat and sets it on top of the dresser. Ochako grins at him. Chuuya finds himself smiling back.

“Alright kid, closer your eyes or whatever. I’m still wearing your stuff.” Chuuya quickly stripes out of Ochako’s jeans and t-shirt and pulls his own white button-up back on. It’s silk and comfy, so it can be a sleep shirt today. Clad in only that shirt and his boxers, Chuuya sits down on the spare futon that is apparently now his if he wants it. Ochako follows suite, closing the door, changing into her own sleep clothes (Chuuya pointedly closes his eyes and tips his head towards the floor until she tells him it’s okay to look again), then sitting on her futon and turning to face him.

“Okay. Here’s the plan.” Chuuya stares the teenager right in the eye. “I’m gonna tell you all the reasons you should kick me out of here. If any of what I say bothers you, just say the word and I’m gone. But, if by some utterly insane miracle, you aren’t bothered, I’ll stick around. Deal?”

“Deal!” Ochako agrees.

“You’ve gotta be honest,” Chuuya warns. “This is serious stuff and I’ll probably need to tell your parents at some point too—”

“Ooh, family talk time? I gotcha. Mom! Dad!” A heartbeat later both parents are poking their heads into the room. Ochako waves them in, and they shuffle inside. Chuuya’s shoulders rise to his ears; he wasn’t expecting to have to share with three people. It’s almost comical, in some way. Here they are all sitting on the floor of Ochako’s freshly cleaned room, all in their pajamas, about to talk about Chuuya’s trauma.

“Chuuya wanted a family meeting,” Ochako claims. Chuuya glares at her; he absolutely did not say that.

“I just think you should all know what I am and all the reasons you really should kick me out right now,” Chuuya mutters. Not one of them appears any amount of phased.

“Right then,” Chuuya sighs. “Here we go, I guess. So, uh, I’m Chuuya Nakahara, but like also not really? Technically, I’m a clone that the government made of the original Chuuya since they wanted to shove a god inside of me. It took a bit of lab experiment time, but they managed to do just that.” Chuuya taps his temples, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground so he can’t see any of their reactions.

“Arahabaki is a real annoying fucker, doesn’t shut up at night and likes to not let me sleep. Anyway, I got kidnapped for a bit by my brother — I’ll come back to him — and his not-boyfriend, blew a crater into a city, and formed a gang for a while. Long story short, I met Dazai, the gang betrayed me, I got stabbed, and then I joined the mafia and became Dazai’s partner in crime.” Chuuya snorts, shaking his head almost fondly.

“We were a little too good at destroying things when we worked together, but whatever. A year after I joined, when I was sixteen, my brother, Verlaine — another government experiment, mind you — murdered my five closest friends and tried to get me to murder the only somewhat friend I had left and join him in being a criminal and on the run. I said no, we got in a big fight and destroyed a bunch of stuff before I finally did him in. Er, at least I think he’s dead. Who knows, he might still be alive. Hard to tell. But yeah, that’s my past family experience.”

Chuuya hums. “What else? Uh, destroyed a bunch of other stuff, Dazai and I got a stupid nickname, and things were going pretty smoothly for a couple years. Fast forward to a couple weeks ago, when the bastard decides he’s done being mafia, leaves me for dead, blows up my car for good measure, and vanishes off the face of the earth. Then I got slammed through a portal and landed here. Any questions?”

Finally, Chuuya lifts his gaze from the floor to look between the three Urarakas.

Ochako’s hand shoots straight up in the air, and since Chuuya is almost certain it is something not relevant, he ignores it.

Marya goes first. “Well, Chuuya, dear, thank you for trusting us enough to share this with us.” The other two nod, even though Chuuya wasn’t so much trusting them as trying to convince them that he’s really bad news. “And once again, I’d love a description of this Dazai so that I can slam the door in his face if he ever comes knocking.”

Chuuya laughs, his shoulders lowering from where they’re bunched at his ears. “Oh, trust me, if Dazai ever shows his face again, I’ll pound it into the concrete before you can slam the door on him.” Marya does not seem appeased by that. “But yeah, sure. He’s taller than me, brown hair, hazel eyes, a real annoying prick, and wears a bunch of bandages. Kinda hard to miss.”

“Thank you, dear.” Marya leans over to pat Chuuya’s bare knee.

Ruki glances towards Ochako, whose hand is still hovering eagerly in the air, then back to Chuuya, clearing his throat. “I know this is not the takeaway, but I do wonder if your friend blew up your car so that you wouldn’t be able to drive it.”

“I can drive!” Chuuya shrieks. “Your truck just sucks. And no, if Dazai was trying to prevent me from driving, he’d have gone for my motorcycle. He just blew up my car cause he knew I just bought it and was being a petty little bitch.”

“Hm, sure.” Ruki continues before Chuuya can get more complaints in. “Now, you said you were part of a mafia. Are you in any danger of them coming after you for leaving? Do we need to get the police involved?”

“Oh, nah. It’s all good. They’ll never track me down, and if they somehow do, I can take care of it easily.” Chuuya lifts his chin and grins proudly. “I was an executive member and the strongest ability user and martial artist there. Ain’t none of those losers killing me if they came knocking. And I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you either,” Chuuya adds after a moment’s pause.

There’s a silence after his comment, during which Ochako’s hand only seems to stretch higher. Chuuya glances to the other two adults.

“Any other questions?” They look at each other, then back to Chuuya.

“We’ll need some time to digest everything you’ve just told us, dear.” Marya says. “But please believe me when I say that this does not change our minds about having you stay with us.”

“Seriously?” Chuuya wrinkles his nose. “You guys have horrible self-preservation. I’m literally a murderer for the mafia.”

Ruki shrugs. “You’re retired from that now, right?”

…Well, technically. Chuuya can’t exactly work for the Port Mafia when not even in the same world as them. Maybe he’s on a break. That sounds better than being retired.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Then I don’t see a problem. You’re a smart young man, I know you wouldn’t bring danger to our household.”

“Were you not listening?” Chuuya grumbles, “I am the danger and I brought myself here, so your point is already proven wrong.”

Before anyone can reply, Ochako loses patience.

“Can I please ask my question now?!”

“You just asked a question,” Chuuya points out. The teenager scowls at him. “Fine! Okay, what’s your question?”

“I gotta know. I really do. You’re absolutely one hundred percent certain that you and Dazai weren’t dating?”

“Ochako!” Chuuya screeches, clamping his hands over his ears as if to prevent those nasty words from reaching them.

“I have to know!” The girl protests. “This is the most drama I’ve been a part of, like, ever! You literally called him your partner!”

“In the mafia sense!” Chuuya wails. “I’d never— ew! No! I’ve seen him naked, and trust me, zero sexual or romantic attraction.”

“…But you’ve seen him naked.”

Chuuya groans and flops onto his side, burying his face in the awaiting pillow.

Two chuckles assault his ears.

“We’ll leave you two too it,” Marya says. “Have a good night.”

“Goodnight Mom, goodnight Dad.”

“Goodnight kiddos.”

The Uraraka parents exit the room and close the door behind them, leaving Chuuya trapped with the teenage menace.

“Hey.” Ochako sounds much less teasing this time, so Chuuya lifts his face from the pillow, sticks an elbow under himself to hold his weight, and glances at her. “On a more serious note, are you okay?”

Chuuya cocks his head to the side. “Yeah? I’m not injured or anything.”

The girl nods slowly. “That’s good, but not quite what I meant. Like, ugh.” Ochako flops onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “I might’ve only understood three-quarters of what you said, but it sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Oh, I see.” Chuuya lies on his back too, staring up at the cracked ceiling with those glow-in-the-dark stars pressed on to cover the worst of the cracks. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle myself; and on the days that I can’t cope, wine is a very helpful tool. Makes the god living in me shut up too, which is an added bonus.”

Ochako shifts, twisting her neck to glance Chuuya’s way anew. “So, that god thing. How’s that work?”

“Good question.” Chuuya barks a short laugh. “I don’t even know. He’s loud and annoying, and if I say a certain phrase, he gets control until I die or someone cuts off my connection to my ability. ‘S also why I wear my gloves and hat, they’re theoretically supposed to give me more control. I have no idea if they work or not but figure it’s better to wear them just in case.”

“Oh, okay. I think I get it. So that god is like a parasite that you can’t get rid of.”

“Yeah, basically. A very bitchy and bloodthirsty parasite that revels in destruction and gets pissy whenever I’m not actively destroying things.”

Ochako giggles.

“What, think that’s funny?” Chuuya shoots her a half-hearted glare. “You try living with a god and get back to me.”

“No! It’s just, well, you swear a lot and it’s kinda funny.” Chuuya raises an eyebrow. He’s been told his language is uncouth, unprofessional, whatever else, but never funny. “Mom doesn’t like it when anyone swears around me; she thinks I won’t pick it up if I don’t hear it at home, which is ridiculous cause I do go to school, you know. So it’s funny to hear you swearing so easily all the time.”

“Huh. Well, guess I’d better watch my tongue around your mom, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s probably smart,” Ochako agrees. “Last time I swore around her, I had to do all the household chores for a month! And deep clean the house.”

“…Is that considered bad?” Chuuya asks after a moment’s hesitation. “I only ask cause I deep cleaned my apartment like every week. Though,” Chuuya continues thoughtfully, “that could just be a habit now since Dazai carried in an obscene amount of dirt every time he broke into my place.”

Ochako nods. “Good to know. But yes, for a teenager, being required to do extra chores is considered to be punishment. It means we can’t be out with friends, online, or doing literally anything else. Cleaning is boing.”

“Huh.” Interesting. Given how often he’s done it, Chuuya finds cleaning rather soothing. It was one thing he got to do that wasn’t violent. “Well, next time your mom tries to make you clean the house, just tell me and I’ll do it for you. I’ll do it at night and that way she’ll never know the difference.”

“Thanks, Chuuya! See, I knew you’d be a great big brother!”

Chuuya snorts. “Cause I’ll do your chores for you?”

“Exactly!” Ochako beams. “Someday I’ll get you shopping and carrying my bags, like a true annoying little sibling.”

Chuuya grins. “Kid, have you seen my clothes? I fucking love shopping.” Ochako grins back, and they form a silent pact to go shopping in the near future.

“But,” Chuuya continues, “don’t take me shopping unless you’re prepared to spend an appropriate amount of time looking at hats.” He pauses a moment. “If I stick around, you’ll be getting a hat, just so you know.”

“I think I can manage to be okay with that,” Ochako says, a teasing lit in her tone.

They talk a little bit longer, mostly mundane topics revolving around Ochako and her schooling — and glee over the fact that it’s summer break for the next couple weeks — before Chuuya realizes how late it is and declares it bedtime. Ochako pouts a bit and tries to stay up later, claiming to not be tired, but Chuuya has dealt with enough overtired Dazais to know how to get someone to go to bed.

Soon enough, they’re both tucked in and drifting to sleep.

“Goodnight, Chuuya,” Ochako whispers for the other side of the dark room.

“Goodnight.” He manages to croak out from his tight throat. He doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing. When was the last time he heard someone say something so basic as goodnight?

In any case, when Chuuya does finally drift asleep, he lasts a whole six hours and it’s one of the best sleeps he’s had in years.

Chapter Text

It takes Chuuya approximately half a day of sitting around to get insanely restless.

Seeing as talking with Ochako last night inspired him, Chuuya spends the morning searching for cleaning supplies, and, upon finding them, gives the whole house a good scrub. He’s quite pleased with how much cleaner the floors look now.

“You know,” Ochako comments from her place on the floating sofa engulfed in the red glow of Chuuya’s ability, “you could’ve asked me to get off the couch.”

Chuuya shrugs and lowers the all the furniture he had lifted with his ability, setting it where it came from. “Lifting furniture is easy for me. You don’t add much of a challenge.”

Ochako’s brow scrunches and she climbs off the sofa once it’s back on the floor. “I wanna try. Get on.” The teenager cracks her knuckles and glances around the room, double-checking that her mom is still outside tending to the lawn.

“Alright.” Amused, Chuuya goes over and hops onto the sofa, sitting cross-legged.

Ochako taps the sofa with the pads on all five of her fingers, and the sofa begins to rise. The teen’s eyes light up, and, just to be a bitch, Chuuya activates his own ability and sends the sofa crashing back down.

“Hey!” Ochako yelps, stumbling back, gaping at the sofa. “What’d you do?!”

Chuuya glances down at the sofa, the tell-tale red of his ability clearly outlining it. “Is it not obvious?”

“No! How’d you do that?”

“Gravity.” Chuuya fights to keep a straight face at the deadpan look Ochako levels him with.

“Well that much I figured, thanks. Seriously, tell me how you did that!”

Chuuya shrugs. It’s not that big of a deal; he just wanted to mess with her a bit. “I increased the gravity. Wasn’t actually sure if it would work, but I guess my abil— quirk must have overpowered yours.”

“You can make things heavier too?” At Chuuya’s nod, Ochako groans. “That is so not fair! Why do you have to be so OP?”

“…What?”

“Overpowered,” Ochako clarifies.

Chuuya shrugs again. “Blame the god living inside of me.”

Ochako huffs and taps her fingers together, canceling her quirk. Chuuya lets up on his ability, giving the poor sofa a break. “Fine, I suppo—”

“Ochako!” Marya calls, coming inside and taking off her shoes. “Are you finished your math homework yet?”

The teenager’s eyes go comically wide. “Ha, yep! Totally, Mom. Let me just, yeah.” The girl dashes off, vanishing into her room and clicking the door shut behind her.

Marya makes her way over to Chuuya and chuckles, shooting a fond glance towards Ochako’s bedroom. “That girl. She does well studying during the school year, but it’s always a struggle to get her to do her homework over the break.”

Chuuya just nods along. He doesn’t exactly have a background that is well-suited to continuing this conversation.

Either Marya notices that too, or she wanted to move the conversation along anyway.

“Chuuya, dear, I hate to impose more work on you after you did the cleaning for me this morning, but do you have a spare moment?”

“Sure.” Chuuya rises from the sofa and adjusts his hat. “What is it?” Given the kind of orders he is used to taking, Chuuya is mildly befuddled when he is handed a piece of paper and a handful of cash.

“Do you mind fetching some groceries?”

…He’s running errands? Huh. Okay, then. Not something he’s done before for someone else, but he’s bought his (and Dazai’s, since that idiot mooched off Chuuya enough that he started stocking up on canned crab so that the mackerel would have something to eat) groceries before, so there shouldn’t be any issues.

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” Not like he has anything else to do.

Marya pats his cheek. “Oh, thank you, dear. Call the home phone if something comes up and you aren’t sure what to get, alright?” Then, once Chuuya has taken out his cell and opens a new contact, Marya rattles off the number of the Uraraka residence phone.

From there, Chuuya heads off. He’s kind of over-dressed for shopping, but whatever. He likes his Port Mafia clothes and looks good in them, even if he’s only got the pants, shoes, white undershirt, maroon vest, hat, gloves, and choker. Well, basically he just left the coat behind. It is summer, so such an item would draw attention.

It’s a nice day out and the digital map Chuuya consulted to see how far he has to go said it’s only ten-ish kilometers to the nearest grocery store, so Chuuya opts to walk. He would take the truck, since his driving skills are magnificent, but Ruki took it to work this morning. Chuuya isn’t sure why he wasn’t dragged along to the construction site today, but maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that some inspector or supervisor guy was checking in today.

Either way, Chuuya is now on a grocery run. Honestly, it’s kind of fun. It’s normal, an activity that civilians and mafia alike both complete. It doesn’t help that Chuuya likes to have a lot of money and spend it… jeez, he’s going to have to get a job, isn’t he? Just thinking about his lifestyle back home — all the expensive clothes, self-care products, and wine — he’s going to need a well-paying job and quickly too. His one outfit isn’t going to last forever, and he really doesn’t want to rely on borrowing Ochako’s clothes. The girl is sweet to lend him things, but she deserves her own stuff, like a hat. Another reason Chuuya needs his own source of income: he's got to buy Ochako a nice hat.

Well, that just about settles it. Since he’s already heading out for groceries, he might as well keep an eye out for job postings. Even if it’s something dreadful like the MacDonalds one Dabi mentioned. Maybe if Chuuya is convincing enough, he could get them to let him wear his hat instead of the standard, ugly visors.

A glint catches in the corner of his eye, wrenching him from his musings.

That’s a familiar glint. Chuuya snaps his head around, eyes narrowed. Yep, that’s a sniper alright. He scans the area around him, trying to deduce the target. He hasn’t reached the downtown area — where the grocery store google maps told him to go to is — so there aren’t a whole bunch of people, but there are still enough roaming around these streets that the sniper has options.

Then Chuuya’s eyes land on a pretty blonde woman who reeks of popularity, and he knows.

Activating his ability, Chuuya uses it on himself to dash through the crowd and tackle the woman to the ground, shielding her with his own body. There’s a familiar ping as the bullet the sniper fired hits his ability-clad shoulder and hovers there, glowing red and ready for Chuuya to re-direct.

“Hey!” The woman gasps, squirming beneath him. “Get off of me!”

Chuuya begins climbing off her, only for a fucking snake to crawl out of her hair and hiss at him. He scrambles back to his feet much quicker at that.

The woman rises to her feet, dusts off her magenta dress as well as she can, and glares at Chuuya with striking gold eyes. She opens her mouth, but Chuuya cuts her off by pointing towards her sniper.

“Ma’am, can you wait to yell at me until I’ve apprehended your attempted assassin?”

“My what?!”

Taking that as a yes, Chuuya squints and tosses the bullet the sniper shot back at them, aiming for something nonlethal. After tossing the bullet, Chuuya himself runs and leaps into the air, quickly making his way to the rooftop the sniper is on, and finds them lying on the rooftop, clutching at a bleeding shoulder. Their rifle is abandoned, so Chuuya scoops both the gun and assailant up with his ability and brings them all back to the streets below.

“Here you go,” Chuuya declares, dumping the would-be assassin at the blonde woman’s feet.

The lady looks from the groaning assassin to Chuuya, shocked. “How did you notice?”

“I’m trained to look for such things,” Chuuya shrugs. Then an idea hits him. “Hey, any chance you’re in the market for a bodyguard? I need a job and you’re clearly famous enough to have idiots trying to kill you.”

The lady blinks. Her lips part and she eyes Chuuya thoughtfully, scanning him from head to toe. Chuuya does the same and finds that there is not one but three snakes in her hair. Hopefully she knows they are there, otherwise that’ll be an awkward next hair appointment.

“Walk with me,” the woman eventually declares as she sets off, nodding to a cop who takes care of the would-be assassin. Chuuya falls in two steps behind on her right, taking the side closer to the road. “I’d need to speak with my security and PR teams before discussing any potential bodyguard opportunities, but I have been getting some threats lately, so it’s not a bad idea. But, for today, Hawks cancelled on the shoot we were supposed to do together, and you’re pretty enough to fill in.” Golden eyes slide his way slyly. “That is, if you’re up for doing a little bit of modeling? It’s quick, easy money.”

“Sure.” Chuuya gives a sharp nod. His eyes flicker over the rooftops every few seconds, scanning vigilantly. “Nothing I haven’t done before.” Granted, that was under very different circumstances and all Kouyou’s fault, but still. It counts.

“Oh? Color me intrigued. What’s your name? Maybe I’ve heard of you.”

“You haven’t.” Chuuya chuckles. “But it’s Chuuya. Chuuya Nakahara, nice to meet you.”

“Indeed, it is quite the pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m sure you know already, but I’m Uwabami.” She offers her hand, so Chuuya shakes it politely; that is to say, firm enough to be a good handshake, but softly enough to not cause pain or injury.

“Now then,” Uwabami continues, “am I keeping you from anything? These shoots tend to last a while.”

“It should be fine,” Chuuya replies. “I was just doing some grocery shopping. Nothing that can’t wait until later. Though…” Chuuya pulls out his phone and hits call on his newest contact. It’s picked up on the first ring, so clearly someone was anticipating Chuuya having difficulties with the shopping.

“Chuuya—”

“Hey, I’ll be back late. Got caught up in something. Bye.” He hangs up before Marya can get a word in. Yeah, it’s a little rude, but he also wants to make a good impression on his possible employer, and being on a phone call during the first unofficial interview won’t score him any points.

Uwabami raises a careful sculpted eyebrow at his clipped phone call. “That was quick.”

“It’s just my, uh, roommate.” Chuuya shrugs. “It’s all good. I’ll explain things to her later.”

“Oh?” Uwabami perks up. “A girlfriend, perhaps?”

“No,” Chuuya snorts.

“Ah, good.” The woman gives a pleased hum, and Chuuya’s hopes sink. If this lady is interested in him, then that potential job is as good as gone. Maybe he’ll have to apply to MacDonalds after all.

“Good?” Chuuya parrots. “Why’s that?”

Uwabami grins slyly at him. “Simply put, I’m famous, attractive, and single. If you do this shoot with me, people are going to assume we are a couple, especially since you’re coming out of nowhere. That kind of media attention puts strain on private relationships.” Then her eyes narrow and her tone shifts to something more serious. “However, I do want it perfectly clear that I am not looking for a relationship—”

“Oh thank fuck,” Chuuya blurts.

The mildly scandalized look get earns informs him that he did, in fact, say that out loud.

“Ah.” Chuuya clears his throat. “Sorry. It’s nothing personal, but like you really aren’t my type, and I was worried you were only offering me a shot at a job to get close to me and I really don’t want to have to work at MacDonalds.”

“…Your options are bodyguarding or MacDonalds? What kind of resume do you have?” It’s said jokingly, but Chuuya responds will full seriousness.

“One that is not available for public knowledge.”

That earns a suspicious look. “Nakahara—”

“Just Chuuya is fine.”

“Chuuya, you are aware that the hiring process will be difficult if you have no resume?”

He shrugs. “I mean, I saved your life? That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“Of course, but what else?” Sharp gold eyes slide his way, waiting an answer.

“Again, I have a resume, you’re just not a high enough security level to access it.” He plows on before she can question that lie. “I have work experience in management, shipping and trade, undercover work, coordination with local government officials, modeling, security, secretary work, and I’ve been trained by a chef.” Chuuya pauses, wracking his brain for anything else he can say about his time in the mafia that would prove to be good experience for this and that he can say without her realizing he’s a criminal. “Oh, and I look damn good in a suit.”

Uwabami lets out a soft chuckle. “Of all the things you just listed, if I’m being honest, that last one is probably the most important. Most of my reputation is my appearance. My job in the hero world is to be a public face that the people can recognize and trust; that’s why I do talk shows, modeling, and as many guest appearances on reality shows as my manager can schedule. If you were to work for me, your appearance would be just as scrutinized as mine; is that something you could handle?”

“Easily.” Chuuya grins back, rising to the challenging note in Uwabami’s tone. “I’d dare someone to find something wrong with my outfit.” Even his current clothing, despite having been worn multiple days in a row, are pressed perfectly crisp thanks to the power of gravity. Not a single wrinkle in sight, not a single strand of hair out of place. His appearance is what Kouyou taught him to take and turn into a weapon, and Chuuya has loved doing just that.

“I like your enthusiasm,” Uwabami laughs. “Let’s see how long that can hold up during the actual photo shoot.” It’s only at her words that Chuuya realizes they’ve slowed and turned to a building.

As they near, Chuuya figures that they’re done speaking.

Then Uwabami speaks up. “What did you mean when you said I wasn’t your type?” It’s doesn’t sound like a genuine question, but more so the confusion of a pretty woman who is about to go to a photo shoot where her appearance is placed under every microscope imaginable. She doesn’t care about Chuuya’s answer, she just wants reassurance before entering the building.

Luckily enough Chuuya can do that.

“Oh,” he laughs. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. Seriously, you’re hot. If I were into women, I’d totally be blushing just talking to you.”

“Thank you,” Uwabami exhales sharply, relieved. Then she peers at Chuuya curiously. “I know you said you didn’t have a girlfriend… but if you aren’t into women, does that mean there’s a boyfriend or a partner in the picture?”

“No.” Chuuya states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, there isn’t—” He falters for a moment as they enter the lobby of the building and a flash of brown hair catches in the corner of his eye. He glances, finds it isn’t Dazai, and doesn’t know why he’s upset at that discovery. Obviously Dazai isn’t here; Chuuya is a whole world away.

He clears his throat and shakes his head, giving Uwabami his full attention again. “Sorry, I thought I saw— it doesn’t matter. No, I’m not dating anyone nor interested in doing so.”

“Alright.” Thankfully that is the tone of someone who is kind enough to not push or ask any further questions along that line. Chuuya has already been traumatized by Ochako’s questioning and assumptions, so he really doesn’t need it from his potential employer too.

They walk deeper into the building, Chuuya’s eyes flicking around them to take in everything there is to see, and quickly find an elevator. It shows how often Uwabami has been here that she does not hesitate to click the button for the eighth floor and that she hums along to the dull elevator music as the metal box jolts and they begin rising. It’s a clunky elevator ride, and by that Chuuya means the elevators at Port Mafia headquarters are a lot smoother. Compared to regular elevators, this one is pretty good.

Once the elevator rolls to a halt, Uwabami makes to exit.

Chuuya thrusts an arm in front of her, a frown twisting his lips. His gut is telling him something if off.

“I’ll go first,” Chuuya murmurs, his eyes narrowed and For The Tainted Sorrow sparking at his fingertips, ready to go.

Uwabami rolls her eyes as Chuuya steps out first. “Chuuya, I haven’t spoken to anyone about hiring you, there’s no need to put on an act.”

“Not an act,” he mutters, eyes skipping between the dozen people on this floor all bustling around getting ready for the photoshoot. “My gut says something is up.”

Uwabami frowns, silently demonstrating that she trusts Chuuya’s instincts despite having just met him, but then the photographer comes over to discuss the shoot, so they don’t get a chance to continue the conversation. Instead, it’s a solid ten minutes of Uwabami and the photographer discussing if and how Chuuya could possibly fill the spot left open by this Hawks guy that was a no show for today.

Chuuya tunes them out and focuses on trying to figure out what his gut is warning him of. At a first scan of the large, open room, he doesn’t spot anything that stands out. Lights and a backdrop set up next to a table with a plethora of cameras and lens decorating the surface, makeup tables and mirrors take up almost an entire wall, and dressing rooms are set up in the far corner next to rows and rows of clothing. Nothing out of the ordinary for a photoshoot.

Eventually, Uwabami and the photographer must come to some sort of agreement, since when Uwabami is ushered over to the makeup station, Chuuya is dragged along. The warning in his gut only gets worse when Uwabami greets the makeup artist.

“Hello there, you must be new. It’s a pleasure to be working with you today.” The blonde smiles politely, and the smile she gets in return from the makeup artist is far more teeth and venom.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” they reply. “Shall we begin?” They pick up a powder foundation and Uwabami takes the open makeup chair.

The artist’s eyes glint as they unscrew the top of the foundation and dab a large makeup brush in it.

“Wait.” Chuuya grabs their wrist before the artist can put any of the makeup on Uwabami.

“Chuuya?” The woman asks, puzzled.

“Just, one second.” Keeping a close eye on the artist, Chuuya takes — pries, when they don’t let go easily — the makeup container out of their hands and uses the brush to rub just a little product on the back of his hand. Immediately, it turns his skin a bright red and burns.

Chuuya slowly raises his eyes from his reddened skin to the makeup artist. They gulp and take a step away.

“Uwabami,” Chuuya starts calmly, “I’m not sure how your snakes work, but I’m going out on a limb here and thinking that you usually don’t request poison in your makeup.”

“What?” The woman leaps to her feet, all three of her snakes hissing at the now-pale artist. “Poison?”

The makeup artist whirls around and tries to run. It’s child’s play to increase their gravity and send them crashing to the ground.

Chuuya clacks his tongue as he saunters closer, prodding the pinned body with his shoe.

“Pretty bold of you to think you could get away with poisoning a high-profile hero,” he comments. “You must’ve had quite the escape plan lined up, huh? At least a couple friends helping out?” When they shake their head, Chuuya increases the gravity pressure until they wail, body on the verge of breaking.

He lets up and waits.

He does not need to wait long.

The assailant starts blabbering on about some anti-mutant, anti-hero organization. When Chuuya glances to Uwabami, she has a resigned look on her face. Chuuya knocks out the fake makeup artist in one quick motion and raises an eyebrow.

“Those threats you were getting…” He trails off, letting Uwabami fill in the rest.

She nods. “Yeah, from them. It’s hardly the first time something like this has happened, but this time when I reported the threats, the Hero Public Safety Commission didn’t believe them to be serious and told me to not worry about it.” Uwabami snorts. “Obviously they were wrong.”

She sighs and shakes her head, glancing down at the second unconscious body of the day at her feet. “Let me call this in.” The woman turns her back to Chuuya, so he heads to go find some water to wash the poison he put on his hand off. This amount of whatever it is isn’t enough to harm him — Dazai made sure of that with all his surprise poisonings that steadily built Chuuya’s poison immunity — but it still stings.

When he comes back, Uwabami is slamming the red button on her phone angrily, her three snakes hissing to make the woman’s frustration known.

“Everything okay?” Chuuya asks tentatively.

“No!” Uwabami hisses, the sound more like an actual snake than anything a human could vocalize. Kinda cool. “Those HPSC asshol— they told me that I was overreacting and that both the sniper and the poison did not count as real threats to my life; that I’m a hero and should be able to handle such things on my own.” She laughs dryly, shaking her head.

“That’s bullshit,” Chuuya supplies once it’s clear she won’t say it herself.

“Yes,” Uwabami hisses. “I agree. In fact, I don’t care anymore. I was going to go through the proper papers and demand contact information so that I can see the parts of your resume that are not highly classified, but whatever. If the HPSC isn’t going to care about my safety, then they don’t get to care if I cut corners hiring someone who will.”

Chuuya perks up. “You mean…?”

“Yep. You’ve already saved my life twice today alone. That’s clearly better than anyone the HPSC would find if I were to request a bodyguard through their services. So, congrats, you’re hired. I’ll give you my contact information as well as my managers after the shoot, my manager will set up payment. Usually it’s a direct deposit to your bank account, so she’ll help you sort all that out.”

“Cool, thanks.” Hell yeah. All he needs is a bank account? That is so much easier than trying to figure out how to fake a classified resume.

“Oh,” Uwabami continues, “I suppose we’ll also need your quirk registration number and proof of your license.”

Ah.

Chuuya clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m not permitted to show that.”

Golden eyes narrow at him. “But you have a license, right? You haven’t been using your quirk illegally all day?”

“Of course I have one,” Chuuya lies. “The number on it is A5158, I can tell you that much.”

“That’s not a normal number.”

“Hey,” Chuuya shrugs, “don’t blame me. Take it up with the government.”

“Huh. And what was your exact job title, again?”

“That’s classified.” Chuuya grins when Uwabami sighs and caves. He kinda gets why Dazai likes to be an ass and withhold information now. It’s fun to just get to say ‘classified’ and to get away with whatever you want.

“Of course it is. Oh well, you’ve already proven that you are completely capable of protecting me, so whatever. You’re still hired. Let’s get this shoot over with and discuss further details, alright?”

“Sounds good to me.”

After some police officers show up to take the attempted poisoner, the actual shoot itself goes smoothly. Uwabami is an expert, and Chuuya knows what he’s doing too, so together they make quick progress. It doesn’t help that the photographer keeps complimenting them, telling them how perfect and lovely they look, which makes Chuuya’s ego preen. He knows he looks good, but it’s still nice to hear.

When it’s over, Chuuya is handed a wad of cash as payment for the shoot itself, then Uwabami sets Chuuya up with the contacts she promised and, after a short discussion and a brief use of ‘classified’, agrees to get her manager to set him up with a whole new bank account. All he has to do is meet her at nine tomorrow for her first appointment of the day. He doesn’t even need to go buy his own suits; Uwabami said they’ll go shopping together tomorrow to find a work-appropriate wardrobe for him.

Honestly, Chuuya thinks that sounds like an excuse to block some time out for shopping, but who is he to complain? Shopping is fun.

However, as well as things went for him today, it’s almost eight pm by the time Chuuya parts from Uwabami. Despite rushing to get the groceries he was supposed to get hours ago, Chuuya barely makes it back home by ten.

He opens the front door and finds all three Urarakas on the sofa, chatting amongst themselves. The conversation cuts off once they realize he’s back, and they all shoot him little glares at are probably supposed to be angry. Compared to the looks he received in the mafia, these are childish.

“Hey,” Chuuya kicks off his shoes and carries the grocery bags to the fridge. “Gimme a minute to put these away.”

“Just set them on the counter, dear.” Marya replies in a clipped tone. “I can do it later. Come sit.”

Chuuya shrugs and lets the bags settle on the counter. He comes over to join the trio, but considering they take up the sofa space, Chuuya isn’t sure where Marya expects him to sit. He chooses to stand instead, clasping his hands behind his back and straightening to attention like he was reporting to Mori on a job.

The Urarakas glance between each other, giving little nods like they planned this and know how to proceed, then Ruki speaks first.

“Chuuya, son, first I want to say that we’re here to help you in whatever way you need. And that we’ll support you, even if you’ve gotten in a dangerous situation.”

…What?

Marya continues before Chuuya can wrangle his thoughts enough to reply. “We might not understand most of your background, the dangers and habits that growing up in an environment like that can create, but we care for you and want you to be happy and safe. So—”

“You better not have joined another gang!” Ochako blurts. Her parents shoot her little glares, and the teen shrinks back. “Sorry. But you were taking too long! Look, Chuuya seems confused.” She waves a hand towards him and his puzzled expression. “So I went ahead and explained.”

“Ochako,” Ruki starts.

“Um.” Chuuya interrupts, drawing their attention and saving Ochako from a small lecture. “I didn’t join a gang. I got a job.”

“Is that code for gang?”

Chuuya shoots Ochako a little look, and the girl mouths sorry, miming zipping her mouth shut so he can get through his explanation without any other interruptions.

“I got a job as a bodyguard for a hero named Uwabami—”

“WHAT?!” Ochako screeches, leaping to her feet. Her auburn eyes stretch wide and she claps her hands excitedly, accidentally making herself float for a moment before she realizes and deactivates her quirk. “You met Uwabami?! She’s, like, on the cover of every magazine ever! She’s so pretty!”

Chuuya waits a moment and continues once it’s clear Ochako is done gushing.

“I start work bodyguarding tomorrow, but I was late today because I did a photoshoot with her—”

“WHAT?!” This time Chuuya expects the shriek and just increases his own volume to talk over the squealing teenager.

“—Photoshoots take a long time, which is why I was so late getting back. Sorry about that. Also, here’s the money you gave me for the groceries.” Chuuya hands back the money Marya gave him. At the confused looks the woman gives him, Chuuya elaborates. “I got paid for the photoshoot.” Then he perks up. “I also bought a new hat for my new job.” (Which might be the real reason he’s so late getting back, but shush. It was worth it).

Chuuya scampers over to the bags he set down on the counter and digs through them until he finds the crisp box hidden within one. Withdrawing the contents, Chuuya presents his new finding proudly.

A moment of silence, then:

“Is that different than your current one?”

“I don’t see a difference.”

“I think it’s lovely.” Marya shoots a glare at the two hat-haters.

“…But Mom, it’s not any different—”

“Yes, it is!” Chuuya huffs. Clearly Ochako is just blown away by the magnificence of his hat and thus cannot see the vast differences. “The brim is half a centimetre shorter, the ribbon around the base is ruby instead of crimson, the chain is ten centimeters instead of twelve, and the shade is obsidian, not black. It’s totally different and far more suited for bodyguarding than my mafia hat is.”

Ochako snorts. “They left you wear that in the mafia?”

“Yes.” Chuuya huffs again and tips his nose up, swapping his hats so they can see just how different his new one looks. “It was perfectly acceptable. And fashionable.” And potentially helped control Arahabaki, so it’ll be a bit of a test run tonight to see if Chuuya feels confident enough wearing his new hat and using his ability. It should be fine; he could use his ability with ease while with The Sheep with only his pockets as protection, and now he has his gloves. That alone, regardless of the fact that he needs to say that specific phrase to let the beast loose, should mean that Chuuya can wear his new hat without worry.

Hopefully that’s the case, anyway, since he spent three-quarters of the money he made today at the photoshoot on it.

“Right,” Ochako replies dubiously. “I think they totally made fun of your hat behind your back.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Chuuya growls. “My hat is magnificent, and I’d beat the crap out of anyone who said otherwise.”

“Which is why they talked behind your back, duh.” Ochako grins at him, and it’s then that it clicks: she’s teasing him.

Huh.

It’s different — a lot different — than how Dazai would tease him. And none of The Sheep ever dared to tease him in case they said something that pissed him off, so Dazai is really the only source of information Chuuya has on the matter. Sure, there were the Flags too, but. Well. They were a unique crowd of people.

If poking fun at his hat and at his not-love life is Ochako’s brand of teasing, he kinda doesn’t mind it.

As such, a small smile pulls the corners of his lips up and his eyes soften as he continues bantering with the younger girl.

“Yeah right. I know they were just jealous of how amazing it looked. Just you wait,” Chuuya continues before Ochako can get a word in, “when I get you your hat, it will change your world. People will bow down to your magnificence all because of— hey!” Chuuya yelps as Ochako snatches his mafia hat and slaps it on her own head, grinning like a fiend.

Chuuya lunges to grab it back, but the little hellion darts out of the way, cackling, one hand on the hat to hold it to her head.

Ochako giggles as she darts around the table, trying to use that to put distance between them. Chuuya leaps, plants a gloved hand on the surface, and vaults it easily, ignoring the affronted gasp that gets from Marya. He’ll apologize for jumping over the table after he gets his mafia hat back.

“Get back here!” Chuuya barks as Ochako evades his half-hearted grab again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be bowing down to the magnificence of this hat?” Ochako shoots back.

Chuuya scowls to show how much he appreciates his wise words on the usefulness of hats being turned on him like this.

“You brat,” Chuuya says half-affectionately. He gives up chasing her around the table. Well, the hat doesn’t look bad on her… “Look, if you really want my mafia hat, you can have it.” Chuuya is mostly certain he doesn’t need it to control Arahabaki anymore. And if it becomes an issue, they can just swap hats. Ochako probably won’t be able to tell the difference anyway.

Ochako perks up, a hand rising to finger the brim thoughtfully.

“But,” Chuuya continues, “it was my mafia hat. I’m not sure if that’s something you should want to have—”

“You mean it?!” Ochako stares at him, stars sparkling in her expressive eyes. “You’d give your hat to me?”

“I did just say that, yeah—” Chuuya wheezes as Ochako darts forward and latches onto him like the human leech she is, hugging him tight. The hat falls off in her haste.

“Ohmygosh, thank you! This is the best present I’ve ever gotten! I swear I’ll take good care of it!”

Amused, Chuuya pats Ochako’s short, smooth hair. “I’ll teach you all about proper hat care, don’t worry.”

Ochako loosens her hug enough to frown at him. “There’s a proper way to care for a hat?”

Chuuya sighs and pats her hair again. Oh, how young and naïve. Chuuya has so much to teach her.

An hour later, after they’ve settled in bed, Ochako hasn’t tried to give the hat back, despite almost nodding off during Chuuya’s explanation of how to properly take care of one’s hat. In fact, the teen even set it down carefully next to her pillow before falling asleep.

Chuuya waits a few moments to ensure he won’t wake her — Ochako has proven to be a deep sleeper, so he doesn’t think he will, but still — then he climbs out of bed and re-enters the main room.

Marya and Ruki are chatting softly at the table, and neither seem all that surprised to see Chuuya hasn’t gone to bed.

“Want to join us?” Ruki nudges the chair next to him out, and Chuuya slides into the offered spot.

“Thanks.”

They chat about random, menial things for a while, then Ruki nudges Chuuya’s shoulder.

“Hey, thank you for gifting Ochako that hat of yours.”

Chuuya blinks, not having expected conversation to turn this way. “Oh, sure. I mean, I don’t really get why she’d want it when I’ve literally worn that for my last two years with the mafia and I’m almost certain it’s seen more blood than most people, but she seemed happy.” He shrugs, then picks up on the look Marya and Ruki exchange.

“Well, dear, unless there are times we aren’t aware of, you’re the first person other than Ruki and myself to give Ochako a present.”

Chuuya gapes for a long moment, digesting that.

“What?” He eventually sputters. “You mean she’s never gotten a gift from a friend before?” The couple exchange another weighted look, and Chuuya’s gut sinks. “Don’t tell me she doesn’t have any friends. She’s so kind! And fun! She should have lots of friends.”

Marya sighs. “Unfortunately, Ochako hasn’t had much luck with friends at school. They tend to not include her in things.”

“Well, clearly they’re idiots with no taste.” Chuuya scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “She should just kick their asses and prove that she doesn’t need any of those losers.”

“Or we could not encourage our chaotic daughter to resort to violence,” Ruki suggests. “She’s been happier than we’ve seen her in a while since you came around, and high school is just around the corner. I’m sure she’ll make plenty of friends at UA — Ochako has told you about UA, right?” Chuuya shakes his head. “Ah, I’ll let her share that, then. Ask her tomorrow, I’m sure she’d love to talk your ear off about it.”

“Sure,” Chuuya agrees. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. Might not be back until after supper, though. I have no idea what my hours are for the bodyguarding gig.”

Marya pokes Chuuya’s shoulder. “Dear, I was wondering, are you qualified to be a bodyguard? Are you going to be in any danger?”

“Oh, nah.” Chuuya snorts. “The two assassination attempts I thwarted were pathetically easy. Hell, it’s harder to keep Dazai out of streams than it was to stop that sloppy sniper.”

“What?!” Marya shrieks, her hands coming to cup Chuuya’s check and tip his face side to side. “A sniper?! Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” Chuuya gently grabs her wrists and removes her hands from squishing his cheeks. “It was just a single sniper, chill.”

“’Chill’?” Ruki parrots, a parental frown on his face. “Chuuya, you just said you were shot at! We can’t not worry when that comes up!”

“Oh, I haven’t explained that I’m basically bulletproof yet, have I?” At the blank looks he gets, Chuuya realizes that no, he hasn’t explained his ability much. “Whoops. Well, no need to worry. As long as my ability is active, any bullets that come near me will get sucked into the gravity field around me and I can redirect them as I please. Basically bulletproof.” He pauses, then figures he might as well throw the other one into the open too.

“And the other attempt was poison, which I’ve got a pretty good immunity built up to now, thanks to Dazai’s continuous attempts to poison the both of us. So, yeah, I’d say I’m pretty qualified, and honestly I don’t think this is going to be a particularly difficult job. Hell, we’re spending three hours tomorrow shopping to buy suits for me to wear for work. That’s not exactly an incredibly difficult task.”

Marya scowls. “Oh, I hope that Dazai fellow shows his face so I can have a few words with that boy.” Chuuya snorts.

Ruki places a hand on Marya’s shoulder. “Calm, Darling. If Chuuya’s friend were to show up, we should try talking before you break out the rolling pin.”

Now that, Marya scolding Dazai and chasing him around the kitchen, trying to smack the slimy bastard with the wooden rolling pin, is something Chuuya would pay good money to see.

“Chuuya,” Ruki continues, “I’m glad you found yourself a job, but is it safe? Beyond the fact that your quirk seems to be very strong, what if the drawbacks hit when you are in the middle of a dangerous situation? Or if the mafia finds out and comes after you?”

“They won’t,” Chuuya promises. “And drawbacks? Oh, you mean if one of my limbs quits on me.” Right, they witnessed that. “That won’t happen. That’s a repercussion of using Corruption, which is to say if I let the annoying destruction god living in me take over for a bit. Can’t exactly do that anymore since I’d die without Dazai’s nullification to stop me, so there’s no need to worry about such things.”

Ruki chuckles softly. “Ah, right. I can’t believe I forgot about that whole god thing.” Sad brown eyes flick Chuuya’s way. “Is that… safe? Is there anything we can do to help?” Marya nods, expressing the same sentiment.

Chuuya shrugs. “Not really. Yeah, Arahabaki is annoying as fuck and I’d love if he shut up when I was trying to sleep, but I’m good at ignoring him during the day. It’s as good as it can be given the circumstances.”

“Alright.” Ruki exhales. “Let us know if that ever changes. Well, it’s getting pretty late and I have work in the morning, so I think I had better turn in for the night. Goodnight.” Ruki stands, presses a soft kiss to Marya’s cheek, claps Chuuya’s shoulder, then heads off.

Marya hums softly, turning to check the digital clock in the kitchen area. “Oh my, it is quite late. Are you planning to stay up, dear? Would you like some tea or coco or anything?”

“Thanks, but I’m good. I might step outdoors and work out a little to tire myself out before trying to sleep.”

“Alright, dear. Goodnight.” Marya comes over and gives Chuuya’s shoulders a quick hug.

“Goodnight,” Chuuya replies. Marya disappears into her and Ruki’s room.

Then he’s alone.

The eager, chaotic voice in the back of his mind grows from a slight buzzing to a menacing whisper. It’s a voice that murmurs nonsense in a language Chuuya does not understand but somehow instinctively knows. Words that mean destruction, chaos, and annihilation are sung on repeat, trying to lull Chuuya into being the vessel for such devastation.

As always, he ignores it.

Chuuya rises to his feet and heads outdoors. The night air is cool, but not cold. It’s still summer, after all. It’s good weather for running through some warmups, then a couple katas, until he’s sweating and his muscles are trembling. Until the voice in his head has dulled back to a slight buzz that can be easily ignored.

Easily ignored until sometime close to five in the morning, at which point Arahabaki rears up and jerks Chuuya from the few hours of sleep he managed to get. Well, at least he’ll be plenty early for his first day of bodyguard work.

Chapter Text

When Chuuya arrives at Uwabami’s requested meeting location, her house, he finds a whole bunch of black-clad government officials that seem kind of familiar. Uwabami is arguing with one of them, her snakes hissing.

“Excuse me,” Chuuya calls out, announcing his presence. “Is there a problem here?”

“Yes.” The man Uwabami is arguing with states. “You, Chuuya Nakahara, are under arrest for the assault of HPSC officers and the murder of Pro Hero Appleberry.”

Chuuya blinks. “Who?”

“See?” Uwabami snaps. “I told you he was not the one you are after! Chuuya is my personal bodyguard, do you seriously think I would’ve hired him without a thorough background check?” Chuuya fights the urge to react to that. Impulsively hiring him is exactly what she did.

“Ms. Uwabami, with all due respect—”

“Do you have like a picture or something of that person you think I killed?” Chuuya steps in, noting the way Uwabami’s snakes coil back, fangs barred. It would not help their cause if her snakes murdered this official.

The man in charge observes him, then gives a sharp nod. One of the other officers withdraws a folder and presents Chuuya a picture from within.

Ah.

Now he gets it.

The picture is clearly and unmistakeably him. He’s next to that blonde chick with the fangs, the corpse of that hero Chuuya turned into pavement mush in the background.

“Nope,” Chuuya says, “not me.”

The official raises an eyebrow. “That’s not you?”

“Nope.”

“Your face is perfectly clear in this image. You are even wearing the same clothes. How is that not you?”

“Wrong hat,” Chuuya supplies.

“Wron—” A vein in the official’s forehead throbs. “Are you serious?”

“I take my hats very seriously, yes. My hat is completely different; I’d never be caught wearing such disgraceful colours.” Seeing the blank looks, Chuuya sighs. “Look closely. The hat in the picture is clearly a dull, worn black, and the ribbon wrapping around the base is a boring crimson shade. My hat,” he points to his head where his new hat sits, “is in pristine condition thanks to my twelve-step hat care routine, is a lovely obsidian shade, and has a ruby ribbon. And the brim is obviously shorter. Honestly,” Chuuya clacks his tongue, “I don’t know how you can call yourselves government officials if you can’t make such simple distinctions.”

The officer that is holding the picture towards Chuuya tips the photo back to look at it and frowns. “Huh, you know, boss, I think he’s got a point. How do we know it wasn’t a shapeshifting or cloning quirk?”

“At least one of you has some brains.” Chuuya huffs. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to get Ms. Uwabami to her nine o-clock meeting.”

Chuuya shoos the officers out of the way and moves to Uwabami’s personal car, opening the door for the lady. She nods at him and climbs inside, sliding all the way across the back so Chuuya can follow her inside. Once both are seated, the driver pulls away from the curb and leaves the government idiots behind.

“Chuuya.” Uwabami shoots him a pointed look. “Your seatbelt.”

He groans. “Come on, seriously? Those things are just annoying.” When the look does not let up, Chuuya rolls his eyes and clicks the damned thing on.

Other than that minor setback in the morning, the whole day goes remarkably quickly.

Uwabami’s appointment is done in less than an hour. From there they meet with her manager, a very kind but no-nonsense woman, who sets Chuuya up with a bank account and new credit card, then they go shopping. That takes pretty much the rest of the day. A couple hours are spent with Chuuya being fitted for appropriate bodyguard suits, then Uwabami decides that she wants a new dress, so they go dress shopping, and somehow Chuuya ends up trying some of those on too. They also spend a significant amount of time looking at accessories, and Chuuya is delighted to discover that Uwabami has a healthy obsession with jeweled hairpins, so he helps her pick out a new one. Or two. Or seven. But really, who’s counting?

There is another appointment Uwabami couldn’t reschedule, so they head off to that for five, but that’s about it. There are no attempts on the woman’s life today, so it’s a pretty relaxing time all things considered. Obviously Chuuya still does his job and remains vigilant, checking for any potential dangers, but that’s not so different than his everyday life in the mafia. Vigilance was expected at all times there.

When the appointment is over at six-thirty, Chuuya sees Uwabami home, then heads back to the Uraraka residence, bags of the new things Uwabami bought for him draping off his arms. All in all, bodyguarding is a lot more like hanging out than Chuuya imagined it would be. If all he has to do for this job is hangout with Uwabami — who is turning out to be a pretty cool woman — and every once and a while beat some people up, it’s certainly not a bad deal.

It seems like Chuuya blinks and weeks have flown by.

Suddenly the weather is getting cooler, the calendar in the Uraraka kitchen gets flipped to September, and Ochako starts whining about having to go back to school.

Since Uwabami ordered Chuuya to take the day off (something about him not taking weekends off or any breaks) Chuuya has just the solution to Ochako’s school-related misery. And it just so happens that he was planning to go shopping anyway.

As predicated, the moment Chuuya asks Ochako if she wants to go shopping with him, the teen’s mood increases dramatically.

Though it dips again when she finds out they aren’t driving to the mall.

“But Chuuya!” Ochako groans. “The truck is right there!”

“Yeah, but I’m not allowed to drive it.” He and Ruki went out for another test drive a couple weeks back, and Chuuya has since been officially banned from being behind the wheel of that vehicle. Something about clipping a lamppost, denting the truck, and almost killing them, but there is no proof of that since Chuuya fixed it all with a quick nudge of gravity. “Besides, I want to buy a motorcycle today, so we can drive home.”

“A motorcycle?!” Ochako squints at him. “Are you old enough to drive one?”

“Am I old en— Ochako. Seriously?”

The girl grins smugly. “Not my fault I don’t believe that you’re actually eighteen.”

“Whatever, you brat.” Chuuya mutters, nudging her shoulder affectionately. “Let’s get going.” Chuuya sets off at a jog and Ochako matches his pace with no complaints.

Ever since Chuuya asked about that UA hero school she wants to go to, he has been subtly encouraging certain activities, such as running. Cardio and stamina are certainly good for everyday health, but even more so if one wants to go into a physically challenging profession. And if Chuuya has gotten the teen doing a couple simpler katas and a few easy exercises like push ups, squats, and crunches, well, that’s just extra.

Considering how Ochako has been asking him to spar with her almost every night, and Chuuya has refused, then the exercises she is doing might not even be enough to prepare her to be accepted into such a competitive school. It's not that Chuuya doesn’t spar with her because he doesn’t want her to succeed, but that he doesn’t want to hurt her. He is used to sparring with Gin, a fellow martial arts expert, and isn’t sure how confident he is in helping a novice learn the basics.

So, for now, this is enough. They go for nightly runs together and do basic exercises to build up a little muscle, and Chuuya guides Ochako through the simple katas she’s been working with. Hopefully that will be enough to get her into her dream school.

They make decent time jogging to the mall downtown. Given it isn’t very hot of a day, Chuuya isn’t sweating too badly quite yet. The same cannot be said for Ochako.

“I told you to wear shorts,” Chuuya comments.

“You’re wearing pants,” Ochako grumbles.

“Well, yeah. But I’m used to wearing a full three-piece suit in the blazes of summer thanks to my job, so jeans are a downgrade.” His black jeans and equally black t-shirt are a relatively good fit for today’s weather. The sneakers he’s got on are a nice, newer, addition to his wardrobe. They’re not something he figured he would buy since he’d never be able to wear them around Uwabami, but since he and Ochako started running together, they’ve been a good investment. And, of course, any outfit of Chuuya’s isn’t complete without his gloves and choker — though he did leave his hat behind today. There’s already been pictures of he and Uwabami circling the internet (Uwabami sends him links to the most outrageous and therefore funny ones) and, obviously, his hat is his calling card.

So, no hat today means he is completely incognito.

Which doesn’t explain the whispers and fingers pointing his way as he and Ochako enter the mall.

Then he spots the magazine one of the onlookers is holding and things click: he wasn’t wearing his hat in that photoshoot, which apparently the magazine for came out today. Damn. His incognito mode is ruined.

“Chuuya,” Ochako murmurs, “they’re staring at us.”

“Yeah. Straighten your shoulders, lift your chin, and pretend you can’t see them.” If people think you don’t care, then they’re less inclined to continue to pay attention to you.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, Mr — uh — Nakahara! A moment of your time, please!” Unless they’re a reporter. Damn.

Sighing, Chuuya hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and turns to the violet-haired reporter, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He barks. “I’m kinda busy.”

“Oh.” The reporter’s eyes flick to Ochako and a gleam rises in them. “A date?”

Seriously? Chuuya’s lip curls in disgust, but Ochako beats him to the reply.

The teen grabs Chuuya’s wrist and tugs, drawing attention to the way she points to a nearby store. “Chuuya-nii, can we please go into that store? They have the prettiest hair bands!”

“Ochako, we’re supposed to get your school supplies first,” Chuuya says, despite the fact that he’s certain they don’t need to do anything of the sort.

Turning back to the reporter, Chuuya sighs. “Look, can this be quick? I promised my little sister there’d be no interruptions on her back-to-school shopping trip.”

“Oh, your little sister. I see. Ahem. What is your relationship to the Pro Hero Uwabami?” A recording device is shoved his way, eagerly anticipating his response.

Chuuya fights the urge to roll his eyes. Good thing he and Uwabami have gone over how to respond to such questions. “She’s my employer. If that’s all, have a good day.” Turning his back to the reporter, Chuuya grabs Ochako’s hand to pull her along as he makes his escape.

They turn a corner, getting out of the immediate public eye, and Chuuya enters the first hat store he finds. A shudder rolls down his spine at the sheer number of baseball caps staring back at him. He’ll apologize to his lovely hat back home later. For now, this is a sacrifice that must be made for the greater good.

Chuuya scoops up the hair that’s draped over his left shoulder and ties it back in a bun at the nape of his neck. He picks the least awful baseball cap — a plain black one — and purchases it. Chuuya grimaces as he slides it on, but it’s worth it. The eyes that were on them earlier are gone. Incognito mode is reactivated.

“Chuuya-nii,” Ochako sighs as they exit the store, “you don’t need to look so miserable. This hat looks fine.”

“It’s a baseball cap,” Chuuya mumbles. “It’s hideous.” After a pause: “And you don’t need to call me ‘Chuuya-nii’, you know. That reporter is gone.”

“Too bad.” Ochako smirks. “I gave you plenty of time to escape and you didn’t protest the first time, so you’re stuck with it now. You’re officially my big brother, no takebacks allowed.”

Chuuya groans and pretends to complain for the sake of it, but he’s smiling the whole time.

It’s odd how a little time can change one’s perspective. Chuuya has been in this world for over a month now and doesn’t feel any desire to return to his original world. This one is… nice. Peaceful. He fights off an assassination attempt once a week or so instead of diving into heavy battle everyday. His work might be simpler, but it’s fun too. Chuuya feels lighter than he ever did in the mafia, laughs and smiles more.

Most of all, he doesn’t feel guilty for not trying to return to his world. Here he gets to go to work, have fun hanging out with Uwabami and assist with whatever she’s up to that day, then head home and be greeted by people who actually take the time to ask about his day and how he’s doing.

It's really, really nice.

If the opportunity to return to his world arose right now, Chuuya would not take it. Back there holds only death, crippling expectations, and loneliness. He’s not trading his new family and friends to return to that pitiful existence.

But for now, none of that matters. He’s simply going to enjoy his day out shopping with his new little sister.

“Hey,” Chuuya calls, holding out a deep purple pleated skirt. “How about this one?”

“Uh, what about it?”

“It’s cute?”

Ochako scoffs. “Maybe if you’re, like, thirty.”

“What?” Chuuya gapes. “No way.”

“Chuuya-nii, it’s a knee-length pleated skirt. That’s not the sort of thing teenagers wear.”

Chuuya huffs and hangs it back on the rack it came from. “Well, if you’re such an expert, which do you like?” Ochako came into this store determined to buy a skirt since she doesn’t have one, so it’s up to Chuuya to help her find something she’ll be comfortable in.

Ochako points to the abomination next to her. “I think the dark green one is pretty.”

“Uh, no.”

“But—!”

“Have you ever worn a mini skirt before?” Chuuya asks. He gets silence as an answer. “As I thought. Those things are awful. They constantly rise up so you’ve got to be worried about how much ass you’re showing — which for you, young lady, should be none.”

Ochako scowls back, then curiosity takes over. “When did you have to wear one?”

Chuuya’s mouth clamps shut.

“Ooh.” Sensing an interesting story, Ochako latches on. “Come on, tell me! Please? I won’t buy the mini skirt if you tell me.”

Chuuya wavers.

“I won’t buy any skirts,” Ochako presses. “We’ll go look at shorts instead.”

“Fine!” Chuuya snaps. “Fine, but only because I’m mostly sure you’d hate wearing a skirt in general.” Ochako shrugs, not protesting that fact since they both know it’s true. “Look, the mini skirt was a one-time thing, and, as most things tend to be, was entirely Dazai’s fault.”

“Did you have to do, like, an undercover mission as a girl?” Ochako’s eyes are gleaming as they always do when Chuuya shares a story from his past — which is rather often, actually. They talk a lot at nighttime when Ochako is supposed to be sleeping and Chuuya has a lot of wild stories the teen is eager to listen to.

“Not this time. Ugh, so basically Dazai and I made a bet and I lost. Loser had to wear a mini skirt to the next meeting with our subordinates. It wasn’t that bad, and I got him back for it later, but yeah.”

“How’d you get him back?”

“Easy.” Chuuya smirks at the memory. “Next time I won a bet, it took me like five weeks or something to finally win, I made him wear a full ballgown on a mission. The idiot pulled it off and, annoyingly enough, no one questioned it, but it was still funny.” Chuuya pauses. “I think I have a picture, hold on.” Taking out his phone, Chuuya quickly navigates to his Dazai blackmail folder, pleased to find it still exists. He hasn’t thought to check before now.

Given the lack of photos in the folder, it doesn’t take long to find the photo in question. Chuuya snorts, taking in the image of Dazai from the waist up, clad in an emerald ball gown, puffy shoulders, bedazzled bust, and all, and scowling at the camera. His non-bandaged eye glares in that way that promises retaliation at a later date.

Chuuya tips his phone Ochako’s way so she can see. “Unfortunately I only got the one picture, so I can’t show you the skirt, it had frills and ribbons and shit, but I swear it was hilarious.”

Ochako hums. “You know, Chuuya-nii, the more you talk about Dazai, the less convinced I am the two of you weren’t a couple.”

Chuuya scoffs. “You’re fourteen and have never dated anyone, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And how many people have you dated?” Ochako shoots back.

“One.” Chuuya smirks. “So more than you.” Well, technically zero. But he and Shirase made out once, so for the purposes of winning this argument, Chuuya is going to count that.

“Whatever,” Ochako rolls her eyes. “Come on, let’s get back to buying me clothes, please.”

“Sure. Shorts?”

“Yeah, shorts.”

They head to the other side of the store and start looking, and Ochako’s confidence rises visibly as she inspects different styles and colors. Yeah, she’ll be much more comfortable in a pair of these than in a stupid mini skirt. As such, Chuuya is more than happy to buy her six new outfits, even if he doesn’t necessarily approve of all the tops she picks out. She’s smiling and will be happy to wear her new clothes, so that’s good enough for Chuuya to hand his credit card over.

“Chuuya-nii, is this safe?”

“Oh yeah. Totally.” Chuuya revs the engine of his brand new, bright blue motorcycle and Ochako squeaks, her arms tightening further around his waist. Honestly, there’s no need to be worried; Chuuya even gave Ochako the helmet.

“You’re sure?”

“Ochako, I’ve been driving these things since I was thirteen. Don’t worry, I’ve got this. And if I do crash, my quirk is strong enough to catch the both of us, okay?”

“I’m not sure if knowing that you’ve been illegally driving for years helps—!” Ochako cuts off with a shriek as Chuuya kicks off the ground and accelerates, smoothly pulling them onto the road. The bike beneath him rumbles, eager to go faster, and Chuuya is happy to oblige.

The wind whips at them and would knock Chuuya’s stupid baseball cap off if he wasn’t using his ability to hold it in place. Adrenaline climbs through Chuuya’s veins as he weaves them around slower vehicles, ignoring the honking of annoyed minivans.

As they go, Ochako’s grip slowly loosens, until eventually Chuuya takes a sharp turn and can swear he hears the girl giggle.

See? Chuuya grins to himself. Nothing to worry about.

When they get home, he gets scolded for taking Ochako out on his motorcycle and is forced to promise not to do so without permission again.

Not an hour later, Ochako makes him promise to drive her to the first day of school.

Needless to say, Chuuya knows which promise he is keeping: both. He wisely asks permission to drive Ochako to school, and, after a lot of back and forth discussion in which Chuuya explains how adrenaline and motorcycle driving are useful skills for a fledging hero, is granted permission.

Chapter Text

“Come on, Ochako!” Chuuya calls out, tapping his foot impatiently where he’s waiting by the door. It’s the girl’s first day back to school for the fall term and she seems to be doing her best to make them both late.

“I’m almost ready!”

Sighing, Chuuya checks the time on his phone and texts Uwabami to let her know it might take longer to drop Ochako off than he though. He receives a thumbs-up emoji in response; Uwabami really is more of a friend than a boss. It’s pretty great.

Nevertheless, he doesn’t like to slack at his job, and being late would do just that. Uwabami has a meeting out in Tokyo today, so Chuuya is confident he can catch up to her car on his bike, but still.

Another sigh. “Ochako!”

“I’m coming!” The girl skids out of their shared room, bookbag slung over her shoulder. Her school uniform is pristine and unwrinkled, and—

“Did you style your hair?” Chuuya cocks his head. All she did was use a couple barrettes to pin the hair on the left side of her head back behind her ear, but it makes a significant difference. “It looks nice.”

“You think so?” Ochako’s hand rises to hover near the barrettes, as if debating taking them out.

“Yeah, really. It’s great.”

Ochako sighs, relieved. “Oh, good. I’ve spent a while trying to do it.” Then a glare is shot his way. “Your driving better not ruin my hair, Chuuya-nii.”

“You have no faith,” Chuuya scoffs. He plonks the black motorcycle helmet in the girl’s hands. “Now let’s get outta here before we’re both late.”

The drive is quick — as it always is when Chuuya is the one doing the driving — so it’s only a dozen or so minutes until the pair of them are rumbling to a halt in front of Ochako’s middle school.

Halting the bike, they both climb off, Ochako taking off the helmet and smoothing out her hair, Chuuya flipping the seat up to grab the teen’s bag from the compartment within.

“Here you go.” Chuuya hands the girl’s bag over. Ochako takes it, trading him with the helmet that gets tucked in the under-the-seat compartment. Chuuya has got his bodyguarding hat, he’s good.

“Thanks, Chuuya-nii! See you later!” Ochako gives him a quick hug, then whirls around and strides into the school, her spine straight and head held high. Chuuya grins after her. Hopefully this term goes well for her.

Hopping back on his bike, Chuuya revs the engine, mentally maps out the quickest route to meet up with Uwabami’s car, and heads off. The wind whips at him but is easily deflected with a little help from his ability. It wouldn’t do to arrive at Uwabami’s meeting with a rumpled outfit instead of a pristine one. Plus, Chuuya is particularly fond of this suit: it’s charcoal grey paired with a blue vest that matches his eyes. He looks good, so it would be a shame to ruin such a thing.

Chuuya makes it across town before he’s hit with a problem. The bridge he wants to take is currently blocked off for some tree hero and random criminal to duke it out. Considering Chuuya waits all of five seconds and the conflict isn’t over, he groans and just activates his ability.

It’s second nature to drive his motorcycle off the bridge and use gravity to help him stick to the side, zooming along past the two idiots, then climbs back to the real road once past the conflict. A few people scream and it kind of sounds like the words are directed at him, but he’s running late and doesn’t care enough to stop.

He catches up to Uwabami twenty minutes later and chaperons her car the rest of the way to Tokyo.

The Tokyo meeting ends up being ridiculously quick, so they’re back in Musutafu right around when Ochako’s school should be getting out. Considering he already saw Uwabami home and has been given the rest of the day off, Chuuya heads towards Ochako’s school. She’ll appreciate a surprise ride home.

However, for the second time today, there is more hero/villain conflict that interrupts Chuuya’s drive.

He rolls his eyes and fully plans to ignore it, until he realizes none of the heroes are doing anything. There’s, like, five of them just standing there, corralling civilians back, and doing nothing to put down the weird exploding sludge thing.

Chuuya narrows his eyes. There’s a small green-haired boy rushing forward, a hand outstretched as he screams and throws his bookbag at the sludge, and then Chuuya sees it: the green-haired kid is reaching for another kid. There’s someone stuck inside the sludge thing.

His lip curls into a sneer. What use are all these pathetic heroes if they’re just going to stand there and watch as some kid dies?

In a quick, practiced motion, Chuuya kills the momentum on his bike with his ability and leaps off it as it topples onto its side. Red glows around him as he dashes towards the conflict and shoves the green-haired kid aside. Said kid lets out an oof and makes some sort of protesting noise that gets cut off as Chuuya slams a hand deep into the sludge, locates the captive, and rips the two apart with gravity. Sludge thing gets slammed to the ground, red pinning it in place, while Chuuya turns to the hostage he pulled free.

The blond kid is sputtering and coughing up goo but is obviously alive. Well, that’s that, then.

“Well?” Chuuya drawls, shooting a glare towards the heroes that were just watching everything go down. “Someone get this kid to a doctor.” That jolts those so-called heroes to attention. They scoop the blond kid up and rush to get him to the on-site paramedics, not one of them stepping in to take care of the sludge thing.

Speaking of… Chuuya glances back at the sludge. It hasn’t gone anywhere — obviously, not much can escape the grasp of For The Tainted Sorrow — but rescuing the kid from the sludge’s grasp did make his suit filthy. Glaring at the sludge for good measure, Chuuya activates his ability and shakes the dirt off. There. That’s much better. He’ll still need to send this suit to the dry cleaners today, but it’s wearable for now.

It takes an embarrassingly long time for the police to organize themselves enough to arrest the pile of sludge Chuuya has pinned. And all they do it scoop the goo into a couple plastic bottles. But whatever, if that’s what they’re confident in, Chuuya won’t say anything. It ain’t his problem if the sludge gets free again.

However, once the police and the useless heroes stop holding back the crowd, Chuuya finds himself swarmed with reporters.

They’re all babbling their questions, louder and louder as they try to talk over each other, and Chuuya can’t understand any of them. That being said, he can guess what they’re asking.

Sighing, he holds up a hand. They shut up and hold their microphones toward him.

“No, I’m not a hero. Or a sidekick or whatever else. I’m Ms. Uwabami’s bodyguard, so if you need an official statement, please contact her PR manager. Thanks and bye.” His piece said, Chuuya ignores the shouting comments his words prompt to swivel around and head back to pick up his bike. There’s a long scratch on the side from his rough treatment of his vehicle, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a little paint.

Hopping on, Chuuya takes to some side streets, getting out of the reporters’ sights. He zooms past that same green-haired kid, who is talking to some old blond guy and is sobbing, and briefly considers stopping to ask if the kid is alright.

Then he realizes he doesn’t care and would rather pick Ochako up from school and guns it to make it there before the girl gets too far in her walk home. Or takes the bus. Whichever, really, though knowing Ochako there are higher odds of her walking to get the extra exercise in. She’s been extra enthused to train for UA lately.

He finds Ochako only a few blocks from the school, and, as expected, she is happy for a ride back home and spends the whole ride chattering Chuuya’s ear off about all her new classes and all the homework she’ll have to do. Apparently she’s taking a French elective, so Chuuya offers to help. Sure, he’s never done school before, but he liked learning French. It was a fun, if challenging, language, and it will be fun to help Ochako with her schoolwork.

Somehow, with Ochako in school, time flies by even faster.

Chuuya continues driving her to school then heads to work and usually gets home sometime between six and eight at night. It never seems to matter what time he gets back at since the Urarakas always wait for him before eating supper (Chuuya insists they don’t have to, but he kind of loves eating a meal together like this every day so he doesn’t protest too hard).

Then, after dinner, Chuuya helps Ochako with her French homework, reads or draws — Marya got him a sketch pad a few weeks back when he complained about being bored and it’s kind of fun to scribble random things on the paper — until later, at which point they retire to their room. He and Ochako talk some more, swapping stories until it’s late enough for the teen to conk out, then Chuuya heads back out to the main room to converse with Marya and Ruki until they too go to bed. An hour or so of exercise later and Chuuya follows suit, sleeping until Arahabaki wakes him for a whole new day.

Every once and a while he takes a day off and heads out to help with whatever construction project Ruki is working on, either aiding with his ability or just to get a bit of extra exercise in by lugging heavy things around.

It's a simple routine, but one Chuuya immensely enjoys.

All too soon, Ochako is holding an envelop and staring at it nervously.

“Just open it,” Chuuya prompts. “I’m sure you got in.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“Then I’ll beat—”

“Then we’ll help you apply to another hero school.” Ruki shoots Chuuya a little look that says ‘stop encouraging Ochako to do violence’. Chuuya just shrugs. It’s not his fault that violence seems to be the solution to most issues.

Ochako takes a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going for it!” She rips the envelop open and out tumbles a tiny device. From said tiny device erupts a holographic projection of a huge smiling blond guy — All Might. Chuuya has been around for long enough to recognize that guy. Hard not to when his face is plastered on most everything imaginable in the grocery store.

There’s a bunch of long, pointless talking, then All Might announces Ochako’s entrance exam score (third place!) and: “Welcome to your hero academia!”

The holographic projector turns off and the four of them cheer. Ochako hops in place, squealing with glee, Marya and Ruki hug their daughter, and Chuuya lets himself be pulled into the group hug too.

Once their hug disperses and Ruki sets off to find candles for the cake Chuuya brought home for the occasion, Chuuya nudges Ochako.

“See? Told you it was a good idea to wear the mafia hat during the entrance exam.”

Ochako laughs. “Apparently it is good luck after all! Maybe I’ll need to add it to my hero costume.”

Chuuya snorts. “That would be quite something. A hero wearing a hat that belonged to a criminal.”

“Ex-criminal.” Ochako viciously jabs a finger into Chuuya’s side. “And it would be ironic. Or something. Either way, I’ll think about it. I’d need to figure out a way to keep it from falling off when using my quirk…”

Humming, Chuuya leaves the girl to mull it over. He returns a moment later with a small, wrapped box in his hands.

“Here.” He presents Ochako with the gift. “And don’t worry, I already talked it over with your parents.” They had a discussion after the combination of Christmas and Ochako’s birthday on the twenty-seventh of December that boiled down to Ruki and Marya thinking Chuuya was spending too much money on Ochako and Chuuya threating to go spend more. He likes buying nice things, and he likes buying them for or to share with Ochako.

The agreement they came to is that Chuuya has to let them know in advance if he plans to buy Ochako something expensive so they can veto it if needed. Thankfully, this gift is one her parents agreed to immediately — though they did protest the price.

“Ohmygosh!” Ochako gapes as she rips off the paper and stares at the contents. “Chuuya-nii, is this really for me?”

“Yep. Figured you’d need a phone for high school and your parents agreed with me. So.” Chuuya shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but doesn’t stop himself from smiling as Ochako makes her delight at the smartphone known.

“But,” Chuuya continues, “we should still go shopping to celebrate you getting into UA.”

“What? But you bought me a phone! That’s a huge gift. I don’t need anything else, really.”

“How about we go out for dinner?” Ruki suggests. “As a family.”

That phrase has Chuuya subconsciously smiling. Yeah, he knows that they wouldn’t let him stick around for the better part of a year if they didn’t like him, but hearing that he’s considered family still warms his heart.

Dinner ends up being a simple affair. They go to a restaurant, nothing fancy, but with decent food, nice, local owners, and have a generally cheery evening. Conversation revolves around Ochako and her plans to become a rescue hero like her idol, Thirteen, and the teen is more than happy to detail how she plans to get there. One step in her path to success is convincing Chuuya to spar with her so she can get extra practice at home, which Chuuya rolls his eyes at and offers a promise to spar once she’s gotten the basics down at school so he doesn’t accidentally hurt her.

Ochako is more than happy to agree to those conditions.

Once the meal is over, they stay chatting in the restaurant for a half-hour or so before they exit and begin the walk home. It’s a lovely evening, so the lack of vehicle to carry them home is not too noticeable. Chuuya offered to drive his bike and let Ruki drive everyone else in the truck, but his offer was turned down on the account that Ruki does not want to be on the road next to Chuuya. A ridiculous notion, truly, but whatever. It’s a nice walk too.

They hit a busy street and Chuuya immediately spots a head of familiar brown hair. He scowls and looks away. He knows it won’t be the person he thinks it is, so there’s no point in hoping. He’s done that far too many times during his workdays with Uwabami and been annoying disappointed every single time.

“Chibi!”

Chuuya’s fingers twitch and he curses the wind for making some distant breeze sound exactly like Dazai’s voice. Then he shakes his head. Today is about Ochako’s success in getting into her dream school; there’s no time to be moping around thanks to invisible ghosts of the past that don’t warrant reminiscing.

“Slug! Hatrack! Ack, sorry, please don’t murder me, ma’am. Chuuya! Wait up!”

When the Urarakas slow and turn to look back, Chuuya does too, mentally preparing himself for disappointment.

He meets hazel eyes that are far too relieved for this situation and no amount of preparing could have helped. A blink later, Dazai is still shoving his way toward them through the crowd.

“Nope.” Chuuya turns around and starts walking away at a brisk pace.

“Chuuya-nii?”

“Just ignore him.” Chuuya hears Dazai call out at him again, and a surge of irrational anger flares in his chest. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“He seems to really want to speak with you, dear.” Marya is glancing back at Dazai, a concerned furrow in her brow.

Ugh, fine.

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya stops walking. He turns to face Dazai and crosses his arms over his chest, scowling.

“Chibi!” Dazai trots closer, smiling with what must be fake relief, “there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Forgive me for not believing that.” Chuuya scoffs.

Dazai slows, stopping a respectable distance from Chuuya. His eyes — both of them, his blind right eye void of bandages — flicking to the three Urarakas around Chuuya. Ochako, tugging his hand into hers. Ruki and Marya on either side of them.

“Did you make friends, Chibi?” The words are playful, but Dazai’s eyes are slightly squinted: he’s puzzled.

“You don’t get to know that.” Chuuya snarls back, furious anger in his tone.

“Chuuya,” Ruki chides, “your friend seems to be worried for you. There is no need to be angry with him.”

“Yes, there is,” Chuuya counters, still glaring at Dazai.

His ex-partner smiles sadly at him. “Is Chuuya mad I blew up his car?”

“Yes— No— Arg! I’m mad you left.” Chuuya pauses, then lifts his hands to cover Ochako’s ears. Just in case. Yeah, he swears around her all the time, but Marya doesn’t need to know that. “You asshole!”

Dazai opens his mouth, and Chuuya sighs. His shoulders slump, he drops his hands from either side of Ochako’s head and lets her intertwine their fingers again.

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to hear it. Just go home; I don’t know why you’re here in the first place.” Chuuya spins around and stomps off, pulling Ochako with him. Ruki and Marya exchange a glance, then follow.

“…Chuuya was missing.” The words are mumbled, softly enough he can barely hear them. They are also clearly a last-ditch attempt to manipulate Chuuya into listening, because Dazai actually does sound worried.

Chuuya mentally curses himself out, because despite knowing that it is surely a trap, he halts anyway.

Sighing, he turns to face his ex-partner. “Look, Dazai—”

“That’s Dazai?!” Ochako gasps, eyes blown wide as she looks between the two of them almost frantically.

“Oh, I see.” Marya’s voice is deadly calm, but the way she rolls up her sleeves and starts towards Dazai say otherwise.

Ruki grabs onto his wife’s shoulders, holding her back from clobbering Dazai over the head with her purse. “Calm, Darling. Words before violence, remember?”

“We can speak after I give him a well-deserved scolding!”

“Um.” Dazai blinks. “Chibi, why do your friends hate me?”

“Because you’re a manipulative asshole?” Chuuya offers. “Who abandoned and betrayed me and blew up my car?”

“A truly awful ex,” Ochako pipes in. Chuuya smacks her shoulder, but she doesn’t take her words back.

“You tried to poison Chuuya!” Marya adds.

“…You let him drive like that for years,” Ruki tags on.

Dazai cocks his head, unwashed hair flopping to cover his blind eye. “Clearly you’ve only heard the slug’s side of things; working with Chuuya was impossible! He’s loud, annoying, impulsive, barks at all the neighbours, and drools. A little poison here and there was just to spice things up!”

Chuuya huffs, turning his back again. “Fuck off, Dazai. I don’t know why you even bothered to come here if your plan was just to annoy me, but I’m not going back, so just leave.”

The Urarakas all shoot Dazai little glares as the group of them start heading away from the confused mackerel.

Unfortunately, Dazai is not that easily deterred.

Despite the fact that he doesn’t say anything, he stays a continuous ten feet behind the quartet, trailing along. It’s so annoyingly Dazai that Chuuya is grinding his teeth together in frustration mere minutes into their walk.

“Dazai!” He snaps, whirling around to face his ex-partner again.

“Yes, Hatrack— When did you get a new hat?” Dazai’s brow furrows as he stares at Chuuya’s current hat.

Ochako gapes. “You can tell the difference?”

“Obviously,” Dazai scoffs. “This thing is way uglier than the last one.”

Okay, this is not where Chuuya wanted to bring the conversation.

“Just shut up about my hat! Look, we’re going home, and you aren’t following us.”

A fake, delighted gasp. “Is Chuuya inviting me to walk next to him? I’d be happy to hold his hand!”

“No. I’m saying we go this way,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, “and you go back the way you came. We don’t see each other ever again and everyone is happy. Deal?”

But instead of leaping at the opportunity to be rid of Chuuya forever, Dazai frowns.

“Why would I not want to see Chuuya?” He states it like it’s such a simple idea, but it shocks Chuuya to the core. Since when did Dazai want to spend time together? “Does Chuuya not want to see me? If that’s the case…”

Dazai trails off and Chuuya is already moving, cutting down the distance between them. When Dazai takes a couple running steps and leaps, throwing himself in front of a moving semi-truck, Chuuya has already jumped. He grabs the idiot out of the air and carries them both out of the vehicle’s path, ignoring the blaring horn that the driver honks at them.

“You idiot,” Chuuya spits out as he drags Dazai back to the sidewalk and dumps him there. “What if I didn’t catch you, huh? Death by truck is not exactly the ‘peaceful and energetic suicide’ you’re always going on about.”

Dazai just shrugs. “I can’t go back, so if Chuuya doesn’t want me around, then there’s no point in being here.”

“You can’t—” Chuuya stares, flabbergasted. Then he smacks Dazai upside the head, scowling even as the idiot whines. “You moron! Why would you do that?”

“I already said. Chuuya was missing, so, obviously, it was up to me to find him.” Dazai perks up, his tone shifting to something prouder. “It was trickier than I anticipated, but nothing someone of my genius couldn’t handle—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Chuuya grumbles. “I really don’t care how you did it. Just undo it and leave me alone.”

“No can do, Chuuya!” Dazai sings his words, skipping closer and slinging an arm around Chuuya’s shoulders. It does not escape his notice that Dazai has grown over the last year.

Chuuya opens his mouth to protest, but then Dazai’s bare fingers brush the skin of Chuuya’s shoulder, and everything goes quiet. Instead of a complaint, Chuuya sighs, tension draining out as he closes his eyes, basking in the silence brought on by a lack of Arahabaki.

Dazai tsks. “Seems like Chuuya hasn’t been sleeping well. Maybe he shouldn’t throw me out to the streets quite yet, hm?”

“Fuck you,” Chuuya mumbles sleepily. “One night.” He blinks an eye open and looks towards Marya and Ruki. “Can he stay for one night?”

“Well, if that’s what you want, dear.” Marya’s expression is darker than Chuuya has ever seen it. “Thought Ruki and I will need to be having a chat with your friend.”

“Okay!” Dazai agrees breezily. “Let’s go! Sleepover at Chuuya’s house, how fun!” Chuuya makes sure to punch Dazai for the comment, but gently. Too hard and Dazai will lift the arm around his shoulders to escape, which will let Arahabaki back in. Now that Chuuya is getting a taste of blissful silence for the first time in nearly a year, he is not inclined to let it go.

“So…?” Ochako prompts, her eyes alight with glee. Ruki and Marya pulled Dazai aside for a ‘talk,’ so it’s just the two of them in the bedroom.

“So what?” Chuuya responds, not looking up from the extra pillow he’s fluffing up.

“So, you hate the guy, but now that he’s here, you’re happy to let him sleep in your bed? That doesn’t seem to line up to me.”

Chuuya shrugs and sets the pillow down. “I’m not happy about it, but I am tired. I’m using him and that’s it. This is a transaction: he helps me sleep a whole nine or ten hours, and I give him a place to stay for a night. That’s it.”

“Uhhuh. Sure.” Ochako sticks her tongue out when Chuuya glares at her. “Just saying, I will help you hide the body if you murder him tonight.”

“Right,” Chuuya chuckles. “Thanks, Ochako. But I’ll have to refrain. At least until morning. I’ll need to hear him out and figure out how to deal with this whole mess.” Dazai mentioned something about not being able to get back to their world, so if that’s the case, then this might be a bit more permanent of an issue than Chuuya would like.

How typical. Chuuya is enjoying life for once, so Dazai has to swoop in and ruin things.

“Should you go get him?” Ochako suggest, glancing towards her closed bedroom door. Despite the door being closed, they can hear Marya’s scolding. Not all the words, but enough that the message is clear.

“Nope. I’m very happy to let him be yelled at. He deserves it.”

But the longer it goes, the less certain of his decision Chuuya is.

After another five minutes, Chuuya sighs and rises to his feet.

“Off to rescue your not-boyfriend?” Ochako shoots him a smug look.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chuuya grumbles. “Just might as well get this over with. I’m tired and want to go to bed.”

“I totally believe you.”

Ignoring her, Chuuya shoves his way out of the bedroom and marches over to the sofa. Dazai is sitting quietly on the seat, eyes a little dazed as they follow (well, the left eye moves. The blind right eye just does it’s regular stare-dully-ahead thing) Marya while she paces back and forth in front of him, her words sharp, loud, and angry. Chuuya doesn’t really care to listen long enough to decode what the woman is saying; it’s basically just a repeat of ‘Chuuya is giving you a second chance, don’t blow it,’ which doesn’t need to be said. Dazai will do whatever he wants to, like he always does, and Chuuya has decided to not care when that results in Dazai leaving again.

Having noticed him the moment he entered the room, Dazai’s fingers begin to tap on his thigh. It’s a steady pattern, seeming all to innocent an action to an outsider observer.

But to Chuuya, it’s a code: help me.

Snorting, Chuuya shakes his head and steps in.

“Marya.” He plants a hand on the woman’s arm. “Thanks, but I can take it from here.”

The woman huffs. “Well, if you insist. I’m happy to get the rolling pin out if you change your mind.”

“Sure, thanks. Maybe in the morning, okay?”

Mayra nods, content with that half-promise, and retreats to join Ruki (the man hid there after saying his piece and thus left Dazai alone with Marya’s scolding) in their room.

The moment she is out of sight, Dazai groans, his shoulders rounding over as he slouches down on the sofa.

“Chibi, why did you have to wait so long to save me? Sure, I wasn’t getting beat up this time, but this might’ve been worse!”

“I’d say you deserve it.” Chuuya huffs.

“I’d say I don’t, but I’m glad Chuuya has found people that care for him enough to yell at me.”

That comment stuns Chuuya to silence.

Dazai smirks. “Nothing to say, Chibi? Well, we best get you to sleep anyway. It’s way past Chuuya’s bedtime!”

“Right.” Chuuya murmurs, still reeling from the last comment. Now it’s Dazai’s turn to be puzzled by Chuuya’s lack of response to his teasing words. “Let’s just talk in the morning.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Dazai trails after Chuuya as he leads the other to the bathroom. It remains silent even as Chuuya hands Dazai some clothes to sleep in — not a single quip about their current height difference is made.

In only a few minutes, they’re curled up in Chuuya’s bed, both shirtless so that skin contact is easy to maintain over the night. Well, shirtless for Dazai means that he’s only kept the bandages around his neck and forearms, but it’s pretty close.

Thankfully, Ochako makes no snide comments from the other side of the room as Chuuya wiggles his way into Dazai’s arms, sighing contentedly as Arahabaki is washed away by the soothing touch of No Longer Human.

He’ll go back to being mad at Dazai for leaving in the morning. Right now, Chuuya is content with being able to curl in his partner’s arms and be held through the night, like they used to do whenever either had a bad day.

Chapter Text

Come morning, Chuuya does not want to wake up. He’s happily drowsy, enveloped in the warm embrace of another person, someone he still trusts unquestioningly despite everything, and, as he cracks an eye open, the light coming in from the window doesn’t burn. He blinks the other eye open, yawns, then realizes there are words being whispered around him.

“—So I said ‘Chuuya, you can’t just run in there with no plan!’ And he was all like ‘that’s you job isn’t it? I just punch things!’ and rushed in anyway. Of course, I had accounted of the rash actions of my chibi and knew he’d do that, so it was only too easy to take out the lights, cause confusion amongst their ranks, and wait for Chuuya to take them all out. From there it was a quick escape over some rooftops to the nearest helicopter and we were home free.”

“Are you sure that’s the mission you wore a ballgown during? How did you run across rooftops in one?”

“He didn’t,” Chuuya interrupts, yawning sleepily.

“Oh, good morning, Chibi.” Fingers brush the back of his neck. Chuuya hums in response; it’s awful difficult to be mad after a good sleep. He’ll need a couple minutes to wake up enough to be angry at his ex-partner.

“What do you mean, Chuuya-nii?” Ochako is wide awake and sitting on her futon, hands clasped in her lap for the last who-knows-how-long Dazai has been telling stories.

Chuuya snorts. “He tripped on the skirt on, like, roof one. Faceplanted. I carried him over my shoulder.”

“Yes,” Dazai huffs, “it was very rude of Chuuya. He should have carried me like the princess I was!”

Chuuya rolls his eyes and goes to reply, only for his phone to ring. Frowning, he wiggles around — not yet willing to leave Dazai’s grasp and let Arahabaki back in — and grabs his phone.

“Hello?” He answers without looking at the number.

“Chuuya, are you alright?” Uwabami’s tone is worried.

Ah, right. Work.

“Shit, sorry.” Chuuya glances at the time and groans. He’s so late. “Sorry,” he repeats. “I got held up. I’ll be there in fifteen.” He hangs up before Uwabami can reply, which is a little rude, but also necessary since he needs to get dressed.

Chuuya can feel Dazai’s curious gaze on him as he scrambles out of bed and rushes to change into his current favourite suit — a sharp navy one.

“Where is the slug going?”

“Work.” Chuuya snaps back, making quick work of tying his hair back and finding some cufflinks. “I’ll be back sometime around seven, and you,” he glares at Dazai, “had better not have run off. We still need to talk.”

“Well,” Dazai rolls over and sits up, “why don’t I just come with Chuuya? We are partners, after all, I could help!”

Chuuya snorts. “Yeah, right. For one, we stopped being partners the moment you ditched the mafia and left me behind. For another,” Chuuya lets his gaze sweep over Dazai’s rumpled, unwashed appearance, “you wouldn’t fit in.”

“But—”

“Ochako, feel free to kick his ass if he tries to leave or does anything to annoying.”

“Got it!”

“Wait, hold on a minute—”

“See you later.” Chuuya saunters out of the room, slight glee adding a hop to his step at the panicked expression on Dazai’s face. It’s not too fun being left behind, is it?

—————

Dazai stares, gobsmacked, as Chuuya leaves the room. Sure, he anticipated Chuuya’s anger, expected to be punched and kicked and thrown around while the chibi yelled, but left alone with a bunch of strangers that hate him in a world he doesn’t know? That was not something Dazai had predicted.

Slowly, he shifts his gaze from the closed bedroom door to the teenager Chuuya seems to be sharing a room with. The girl has proven to be friendly and eager to listen to Dazai’s retelling of he and Chuuya’s missions, but now that Chuuya has left, there’s a different tension in the room.

“I don’t like you,” the girl states. She says it so simply that, to her, it’s fact.

“I don’t care,” Dazai shrugs. “I do not need you to like me. You’re inconsequential.”

The girl gapes at him, her expressive — too expressive, too open and vulnerable — eyes flashing with hurt. Too easily hurt by words. She wouldn’t last an hour in the mafia, so why is Chuuya hanging around her? She’s essentially useless, so there’s no way the chibi is trying to find a new partner—

But, then again, Chuuya said he didn’t want to go home.

A rather fortunate turn of events, actually, for Dazai doesn’t currently know how to return home. It may have been a tad rash to rush in figuring out a way to portal himself to another world without an escape plan, but Dazai was, ugh, worried. And bored. So, when he heard that Chuuya was gone and labeled a traitor to the Port Mafia, and knowing full well that Chuuya would never do anything to betray the organization (there was a reason Dazai didn’t dare ask Chuuya to leave with him), he knew something had to be wrong. From there, it was a simple matter of sneaking out of his government-sponsored safe house, retracing Chuuya’s last steps, and finding the man that sent Chuuya away. It was slightly more challenging to get the man to portal Dazai to Chuuya’s location, but he is nothing if not resourceful, so Dazai made it work.

Only to discover that Chuuya is not in danger, not trapped in some world, not afraid and alone. Rather, other than being sleepy and glad for a full night’s rest, Chuuya didn’t seem to want Dazai around.

Maybe blowing up Chuuya’s car was a little too harsh.

But Dazai had to do something to prevent the chibi from coming to look for him! Chuuya would never have let him leave the mafia unless Dazai forced his hand. And—

“Wow, okay, so you really are an asshole.” Oh, right. The girl. She’s scowling at him now. “See, I knew that already from what Chuuya-nii has told me about you, but it’s different talking to you in person.”

Dazai just shrugs. “No one is forcing you to talk to me.”

The girl huffs and picks up a nearby magazine, pretending to devote her attention to it while looking back to Dazai every few heartbeats.

Sighing, Dazai flops back down on Chuuya’s futon. The slug was rather clear in his expectations, and Dazai doesn’t see a reason to upset Chuuya any further, so he might as well put the phone he nicked from Chuuya’s pocket to good use and learn about this new, weird, world.

—————

Chuuya arrives home close to six-thirty and does not expect to find Dazai still there.

He expects even less to find Dazai lounging on the sofa, scrolling through the phone Chuuya thought he lost in the river.

“Dazai!” Chuuya snaps, wrenching off his soaked shoes and socks and tossing said socks at his bastard of an ex-partner. Dazai is too engrossed in whatever he’s reading on Chuuya’s phone to bother dodging the sock-attack and lets the wet socks hit his cheek.

“Chibi, you’re wet.” Dazai comments idly, sparing him half a glance before returning to Chuuya’s phone.

“And you stole my phone,” Chuuya growls back.

Dazai keeps talking as if Chuuya hasn’t said a thing. “Really, Chibi, jumping into rivers is my thing, so please don’t try to steal it, okay? It just doesn’t fit— ack.” Dazai rubs his head where Chuuya smacked him and pouts as Chuuya snatches his phone back.

Glancing at his phone screen, Chuuya freezes.

“Dazai.”

“Mhm?”

“What is… this?” Chuuya waves his phone around, making it undeniably clear what he is referring too.

“Are Chibi’s eyes not working? I think it’s quite obvious…” Dazai gulps as Chuuya gnashes his teeth together and lets his ability flare around him. “It’s fan art I found on a hero forum of you and Uwabami. You know, you could’ve just said you got a hot girlfriend and that’s why you don’t want to see me anymore. No need to be bashful about it.”

Chuuya turns his phone off and sighs. “Dazai, you’re an idiot. I’m not dating Uwabami, I’m working as her bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard is basically partner, and that’s no good. I’m Chuuya’s partner.”

Blinking, Chuuya frowns at Dazai’s pouting form. Unless he’s mistaken…

“Are you jealous?”

Dazai’s hand twitches just the slightest bit. “Ah, Chibi, your sense of humor is just as good as always—”

“Holy shit, you are jealous.” Chuuya gapes, unsure what to do with this knowledge.

“I am not jealous!” Dazai snaps, his ears tinting pink. “Don’t be ridiculous, Slug! I don’t do jealousy. It is an unimportant emotion.”

Chuuya snorts disbelievingly. “Right. Believe that all you want, it won’t change anything.”

“Chuuya is being so mean!” Dazai whines, flopping around on the sofa like the fish he is.

“Uhhuh. You deserve it.” Chuuya pauses, looking around the empty room. “Hey, where is everyone? You didn’t kill them, right?”

“No, unfortunately.” Dazai’s words are mumbled but Chuuya still hears them. He levels a glare at his ex-partner. “Calm, Chibi. No murder. I retired from all that, remember?”

At Chuuya’s unimpressed look, Dazai sighs and keeps talking. “For some wild reason, your friends didn’t want to talk to me anymore and hid away in their rooms! Crazy, really, why would anyone want to skip out on a conversation with an intellect such as mine? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“Cause you’re an ass,” Chuuya supplies. Ignoring Dazai’s faux-offended look, Chuuya clears his throat and raises his voice so the Urarakas can hear. “Hey, I’m kicking Dazai out before supper. We’ll be maybe five minutes.”

Dazai opens his mouth, so Chuuya rushes to keep talking.

“Okay, look. We’ve got a lot of shit to sort out and I don’t feel like doing so today. I thought about it at work and if you stay here we’ll only argue and want to tear each other’s throats out, so, catch.” Chuuya tosses Dazai a set of keys, which Dazai catches, a little dazed.

“You don’t have any money, so I got you an apartment for the next month. If you don’t find a job and can’t pay rent then I’ll loan you the money until you can — but you’ll be paying me back, got it?” Chuuya glares until Dazai gives a hesitant nod. “Good. Apartment coordinates are on your new phone, your welcome,” Chuuya tosses a cheap flip-phone onto the couch next to Dazai, “so scram. I’ll text you on my next day off and we can meet up to figure shit out then. In the meantime, go find a hobby or job or something. If you’re stuck here then you might as well make a life out of it.”

His piece said, Chuuya crosses his arms, ignoring the way the soaked sleeves of his suit slap together, and waits.

Dazai sits there, unmoving, for a long moment. Then he nods.

“Okay. Chuuya’s demands are pretty reasonable. He’d better text back when I text him though, otherwise I’ll be bored.”

“Alright. As long as you don’t send anything too annoying, I’ll answer. Eventually. I have a job and am busy, so I won’t respond immediately.”

“Okay,” Dazai agrees.

“Okay,” Chuuya repeats.

They stare at each other in awkward silence, then Dazai takes a hesitant step towards the door. When Chuuya makes no move to stop him, Dazai slips away.

Sighing, Chuuya trudges to he and Ochako’s room, knocking twice to let the girl know he’s coming in. When no response is offered to prevent that, Chuuya shoves the door open and marches inside. He immediately sets to stripping out of his soaked suit and changing into pyjamas.

“What happened to you?” Ochako asks, setting down the magazine she was reading.

“Water quirk. Got pulled into the river.”

“Ah, fun. More fun than being stuck with your not-boyfriend, he really is a major jerk.”

Chuuya shrugs. “Yep. Growing up in the mafia will do that to a guy. Hopefully he’ll learn to be less of an ass out here without Mori breathing down his neck.” If anyone deserves a break from assholes telling him how to live his life, it’s Dazai. Chuuya might not know a whole lot about the guy’s background, but that much is obvious.

“Which one was Mori, again?”

“Mafia boss guy.”

“Oh, right.” Ochako pauses, then pats the bed next to her. “We have a few minutes till Mom gets supper ready, wanna do the personality test that’s in this magazine?”

“Absolutely.” Chuuya detours to drop his wet clothes in the bathroom tub, then settles in next to Ochako.

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya steels his nerves and knocks on the door.

It takes a mere heartbeat for Dazai to wrench it open and grin down at him.

“Chibi! I was starting to wonder if you got lost.” There’s a smug grin on Dazai’s face that wants Chuuya to rise to the bait so he can somehow link things to quip about Chuuya’s height, so Chuuya says nothing. Instead, he peers past Dazai and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s actually clean?” Considering Chuuya used to put Dazai cleaning up after himself in the same category as unicorns appearing on earth (not impossible, but very slim odds), he’s rightfully shocked.

“Well, obviously.” Dazai scoffs. “I do know how to clean.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing,” Chuuya quickly clarifies. “Just never thought I’d see the day.”

Dazai shrugs. “The mean landlady yelled at me last week. She’s old and gross so I didn’t want to flirt with her. Actually cleaning was my last option.”

Chuuya nods; that makes so much more sense. There was no way Dazai cleaned unprompted.

“Right. Well, are you ready to go?”

Dazai nods and steps out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. He also goes on to flick a switch, turn a knob, and press a button, all of which were not there when Chuuya bought the place.

He raises a curious eyebrow and waits for Dazai to explain.

The bastard grins and obliges Chuuya’s silent request.

“Home security. Can’t go trusting a key when just about everyone has an ability — quirk, whatever — that can be used to break in.”

“Ah, right.” Chuuya pities the poor thief that tries to break into Dazai’s apartment.

They walk in relative silence, a few comments passing back and forth before fizzling out anew, then they reach their destination.

“Chuuya…” Dazai trails off, frowning. “Why are we at an arcade?”

Chuuya shrugs. “Why not? It was fun to play against you when we first met—”

“You lost horribly,” Dazai comments fondly.

“—and we don’t have anything else to do, so we might as well. Unless you’re scared?” Chuuya raises an eyebrow, silently offering the challenge.

Dazai stares at him, eyes squinted slightly in puzzlement as he tries to figure out if this is a trick. It’s not.

“Alright, fine! If Chibi wants to lose that badly, I guess I can’t refuse him.”

“One thing first.” Chuuya rotates his shoulder and flexes his wrist.

“Hm?”

When Dazai turns to look at him, Chuuya punches his ex-partner in the gut.

Dazai crumbles to the ground, wheezing. Chuuya grins, cracking his knuckles.

“That’s for blowing up my car, asshole. And leaving. Now get up, we’re playing arcade games, going to a movie, and getting dinner.” Chuuya takes a step closer to the arcade entrance, only to frown when Dazai — after climbing to his feet — doesn’t follow.

“What?”

“Well, doesn’t Chuuya hate me?”

Staring into his ex-partner’s eyes, Chuuya can read the silent question clear as day: why are we doing this, pretending to have fun, if we hate each other?

“I only hate you a little, and right now that is for abandoning me. You should’ve asked me to come with you, dumbass. But,” Chuuya continues as Dazai opens his mouth, “you’re also the only person I’ve ever thought of as my best friend, so we’re going to learn how to have fun outside of the mafia together. Deal?”

Chuuya stretches his hand, bridging the distance between them.

Dazai stares at it for a long moment, then sighs and accepts. Their handshake is brief, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the tiny glimpse of a smile Dazai is fighting back and the warmth that causes in Chuuya’s chest.

“Fine. I suppose that is an adequate deal. Thought Chuuya should be ready to lose; he really sucks at arcade games.”

“You’re on, asshole.” Chuuya laughs, nudging Dazai’s shoulder and stomping into the arcade. This time, Dazai follows right behind.

Chuuya does end up losing terribly, but he gets Dazai laughing freely by the end of their time at the arcade, so he can’t find it in himself to mind.

“So,” Uwabami prompts from her place in a waiting chair, “how is your little sister enjoying UA?”

“She’s loving it so far,” Chuuya replies, slouching in his own chair. They’re backstage so no one can see them. Therefore, his posture does not need to be good.

He tilts his phone to Uwabami, showing off the three little bubbles in the bottom corner as Ochako types. “Her class is going on a trip to that USJ place today to do rescue training, so she’s been super excited for it. I’m sure she’ll be too energized to do her homework later, but whatever.”

“Ah, homework. Can’t say I miss that.” Uwabami chuckles so Chuuya does too, though he trails off when Ochako’s contact suddenly goes offline.

That shouldn’t happen. He bought her a good phone and a good data plan, so there should not be anywhere she can’t get connection, unless—

“I think something is wrong,” Chuuya blurts. His gut clenches, agreeing with him. “Are you okay here if I go check in then come right back?”

“I’ll be fine,” Uwabami promises. “My interview should start any minute and I’ll be perfectly safe while on live television. Plus, I’m not completely useless; I can take care of myself for an afternoon. You can go ahead, Chuuya.”

“Thanks.”

Wasting no time, Chuuya dashes out of the building and hops onto his motorcycle, activating his ability immediately to increase his speed to the max and drastically cut down time. Hopefully he’s wrong and everything is okay. It’s UA, after all. Surely they wouldn’t be in any danger.

But Chuuya’s instincts are never wrong.

He’d rather show up at Ochako’s class trip, guns blazing, and end up embarrassing himself than sit back and hope those heroes have everything handled if something is wrong.

Just in case, Chuuya takes a couple illegal short-cuts up the sides of some buildings.

Eh, whatever. He’ll see if Uwabami’s insurance covers those mildly broken windows later.

When Chuuya gets close to the USJ centre and zooms past some kid booking it towards the school, his suspicions are confirmed. Something is wrong.

As such, he wastes no time parking and instead crashes straight through the doors on his motorcycle.

A few kids scream as he screeches to a halt and leaps off his bike, For The Tainted Sorrow rising to engulf his body in gleaming red as he takes in the situation: goons sprawled unconscious in the centre space; a few assailants still up, one of whom is massive with some weird bits of brain poking out and fighting the homeroom teacher Ochako gushed about on day one; and some kids and a wounded teacher — Thirteen, Ochako won’t be happy her idol got injured — gaping at him.

But, not all the kids are here.

“Chuuya-nii?!” Ochako gasps, rushing over to hug him. He indulges her for a moment, then pries her off.

“Later, Ochako. This isn’t over. Where is everyone else?” Chuuya asks, his eyes flicking about the USJ in hopes of spotting the other students.

“I don’t know! The misty villain separated everyone.”

“Okay.” Chuuya takes a deep breath. This could get tricky. There are a lot of kids and all of them could be in danger—

“Chuuya-nii,” Ochako’s voice is small, “can you please help Aizawa-sensei? I— I don’t think he can win.”

Chuuya snaps his gaze back to the homeroom teacher in time to see him get his face slammed into the floor. He winces in sympathy. That’s gotta hurt.

But, while he winces and doesn’t mind the blood pooling around the teacher, Ochako and the other students cry out and start to sob.

Right.

They aren’t used to battle.

“Hey, look at me.” Instead of just Ochako, all her classmates that are here snap their eyes to him too. “It’s going to be okay, alright? Just stay up here out of the way, take care of Thirteen as best you can, and leave the rest to me.”

“Um, who are you?” One of the kids asks.

Chuuya’s grin is a feral one. “I’m Ochako’s big brother, and I haven’t had a good fight in far too long.” With that Chuuya leaps off the platform, launching himself towards the thing that’s pounding their teacher’s face into the cracked ground.

His first kick lands true. The brain-beaked thing is thrown back until it slams into the nearest wall.

“Hey! Who said you could join in?” Some brat with scraggly blue hair is scowling at him.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Uh, I invited myself and I don’t have time for small-fries, so just take a seat, yeah?” Gravity slams into scraggly kid, knocking him and his tall, misty friend to the ground and holding them there.

“No fair!” Scraggly wails. “Nomu! Kill the uninvited player!”

The thing Chuuya kicked into the wall staggers free and leaps towards him, so that must be Nomu. What a peculiar name.

Chuuya dodges it’s first attack, but the follow-up punch slams into his defense and sends him skidding back several feet.

“You hit hard,” Chuuya comments, grinning. “Good. So do I.” For The Tainted Sorrow makes the air around him tremble as Chuuya shifts his stance, preparing to take the offensive—

A bright blue flash suddenly engulfs Nomu.

Chuuya blinks, the blue glow fades out, and Nomu is gone. All that’s left is Dazai, who is shaking his hand like it’s got something gross on it, and a puddle of black goo.

“Seriously?” Chuuya glowers at his ex-partner. “The hell did you do that for?”

Dazai blinks innocently. “It felt weird, so I wanted to see what happened if I touched it.”

“You ruined my fight!” Chuuya complains, pointing an accusatory finger at Dazai.

“There are other fights to be had. By my count there were thirty-eight villains here to begin with… if you hurry, you might be able to take a few out before the students get them.”

“And how do you know how many villains there are?” Chuuya scoffs.

Dazai shrugs. “I was bored. Chuuya told me to find a hobby. The UA rat-mouse-bear thing has very good security defenses, so I amused myself this morning by hacking the security cameras for this area. I counted thirty-eight intruders before the original portal closed and the cameras cut out.”

“Of course you did,” Chuuya grumbles. “Come on, let’s go find the small-time villains then.”

“Ohho? Does Chuuya need my help?”

“No,” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “But we’re partners, right? Might as well beat up some idiots together.”

Dazai hums. “That does sound fun.”

It does not end up being fun. All the goons are far too easily beat; most lost to Ochako’s classmates before Chuuya and Dazai even got there. A rather boring end to what started off as a potentially tricky fight.

Unfortunately, they are not able to sneak away before those hero teachers from Ochako’s school arrive as backup. Please, backup that comes that slow might as well not show up at all.

Chuuya might take a little pride in their gobsmacked expressions when they find all the apprehended goons piled up in the centre next to the broken fountain and stuck in their place on the floor thanks to some gravity.

“Who are you two?!” Some hero points a gun at both he and Dazai. Chuuya just sighs. Honestly, people should just learn to stop trying to shoot him.

“Hey,” Chuuya gives a small wave. “Chuuya Nakahara. I felt something was off and came over to check it out. Turned out I was right, so I helped gather them up for you.” He jerks a thumb towards the pile of goons in case it isn’t clear.

“And I’m Osamu Dazai, Chuuya partner!” Dazai pipes in. “I was bored, hacked your security cameras, and saw villains, so I figured Chuuya would be on the way and came too.”

“Oh, so that’s who you are.” Another voice pipes in. Chuuya follows the voice down and finds the weird mammal principal in all his itty-bitty glory. Ha. Chuuya is taller than someone for once. Take that, mammal.

“I was wondering who kept hacking my network,” the mammal continues idly. “May I ask why you were doing that?”

Dazai shrugs. “I was bored.”

“Interesting.” The mammal’s eyes gleam.

…Oh. Idea.

“Well, just saying, Dazai is currently unemployed. So, if you needed a new IT security guy, he could do it. And he makes for a backup security guard.” Chuuya offers, ignoring the sharp, bony elbow to the ribs he gets for voicing that idea out loud.

"Oh?” The mammal smiles. It’s less a smile and more a showing of teeth, but it’s close enough. “Well, why don’t we discuss such prospects back at my office, once this is all cleared up?”

“Sure,” Dazai mutters, sounding the furthest thing from enthused. Now it’s Chuuya who elbows his partner.

“Cheer up,” Chuuya scolds. “This way you get paid to hack stuff, get to talk to someone else who is freakishly smart, and have something to do.”

“Chuuya just wants to force me into a job so I suffer!”

“Sure, think that if you want to, but I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ if you get the job and end up liking it.”

“Deal,” Dazai leaps at the offer immediately. “Loser has to throw his hat out.”

“Deal— wait a damn minute, you slimy mackerel!”

Dazai cackles and ducks, avoiding Chuuya’s swipe at his head.

In the end, Dazai ends up buying a hat (a baseball cap, at Chuuya’s insistence) solely so he can throw it out upon losing the bet.

(He goes back a week later, digs it out of the dumpster, and starts plotting how to send the garbage-smelling hat to Fyodor back in their own world. A job is not interesting enough to occupy all his time, and messing with his least favourite person is always fun.)

Bonus:

• Dazai and Fyodor become inter-world penpals that send each other increasingly weird objects, including but not limited to: a radioactive boot, an empty stapler, and a very confused Nikolai Gogol.

• The training camp attack gets foiled when Toga and Dabi learn that Ochako is Chuuya’s sister. They start a group chat so they can talk about how cool Chuuya is and for Toga and Ochako to gossip about Chuuya’s love life. Dazai repeatedly hacks into the group chat to say something then gets kicked.

• Toga and Ochako end up talking more on their own and go shopping together. No one is surprised when they announce that they’re dating. Toga helps Ochako work on her close combat vs knife skills. Chuuya approves.

• When the UA kiddos moves into dorms, Chuuya shows up every Saturday night to hangout and cook them supper. He makes katsudon once and Ochako and Midoriya have a competition to see who can eat more; Bakugou wins by a landslide.

• Dazai is out on the street one day and accidentally bumps into AFO, canceling all his long-life quirks and killing the guy. The HPSC try to charge him for murder, so he tells them that the photo they have can’t possibly be him because the person in the image is wearing the wrong brand of bandages. They fall for it.

• Dazai and Chuuya make Thursdays hangout/unofficial date night and both look forward to it every week as they slowly learn how to have fun outside of the mafia world :)