Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nakahara Chuuya didn't dream. For him, waking up was like fast-forwarding a couple of hours. When he closes his eyes, it's like he's a computer that's been turned off. So when he starts getting visions, something is wrong. 

At first, he's excited. The last seven years of his life were missing. His earliest memories involved a cry and an explosion. He didn't know if he was human or not and the new dreams that accompanied his nights were a clue to his humanity, a possible window to his past.

In those dreams, there is a bandaged boy. He's always got some kind of smile on that pretty face of his. Sometimes, it's cunning and sharp. It triggers the feral instincts inside of Chuuya. Other times, the smile is soft and boyish. Those are the ones that make Chuuya's cheeks flush.

They're always fighting; bickering about one useless thing to another. Their rivalry is infamous. Their partnership is even more renowned.

Despite all the name-calling and not-so-harmless pranks, there is something inherently right about being together. There is so much Chuuya is uncertain about. His origins and humanity, his next meal and friends' safety... But the one thing he knows for certain is his place by the bandaged boy's side.

Chuuya enjoys sleeping. Since the dreams began, he's been trying to sleep more and more just so he could see that boy. It's gotten noticeable enough for the other children of the Sheep to start asking questions.

He doesn't tell them about the boy. It's rather embarrassing and he doesn't know why. He doesn't understand why he wants to keep the boy to himself. But he doesn't question his weird selfishness either.

He doesn't tell anyone about how soft the boy's hair is. It's the perfect shade of chocolate. It's so fluffy, practically begging to be touched. He doesn't tell anyone about how slender his wrists are or how lovely his voice is. No one but him is supposed to know how small the brunette's waist is.

Those little details are for Chuuya and Chuuya only. The brunette boy was like a comforting secret, one that soothes the loneliness of not knowing what he truly is.

He should be resenting the boy. After all, it is because of the boy that his friends turn on him and stab a poisoned knife in his back. That dream in particular had been deeply unpleasant. He couldn't look at Shirase without making a face for days.

But he doesn't hate him.

Chuuya can't bring himself to hate the boy. No matter what he does or says, Chuuya can't hate him. Even if he burnt Yokohama to the ground, Chuuya would still find him to be the most beautiful person in the world.

Chuuya is ten years old. In his head are three different sets of memories. There is his, and then there are two others. In both, the bandaged boy grows up to be a very attractive adult. He grows into his long limbs and pretty features.

One lifetime stars a young man in a tan coat with bright eyes. There are fewer bandages on him and he's dressed in light colors. There's grief in his eyes but he looks healthy. He doesn't resort to violence unless necessary. He's become a wonderful mentor, a good man.

The other shows a boy who was forced to grow up too quickly. The maroon scarf hangs around his neck like a noose. Instead of his right eye, it's his left eye covered in bandages. He's a lonely child and a lonelier man. He's no different than a walking corpse.

Chuuya's dreams are no longer pleasant fantasies. They've become horrifying nightmares that refuse him relief. Every night...ever since he had that dream...he wakes up in a cold sweat with a hand gripping his chest.

Betrayal isn't foreign. It's almost a friend. He's never experienced betrayal but he has memories of being betrayed.

Shirase stabbed him in the back with a knife. The Sheep pointed their fingers at him and tried to have him killed. His brother killed his closest friends and would have killed everyone close to him out of some misguided sense of salvation.

He knows what it's like to be betrayed by friends, family, and subordinates.

But none of that can compare to being abandoned by Dazai.

Dazai was someone who was meant to be by his side. There was nothing more normal than being together. They fit one another, complimented the best and worst parts of each other. Nothing else mattered as long they had each other.

They trusted each other more than anything else. It was a trust so deep it could be called faith. Blindly placing their lives in one another's hands with no guarantee of safety was their act of faith.

The two of them never flinched in the face of death. They faced countless improbable situations with the certainty that they would come out on top. 'Fear' and 'hesitation' wouldn't protect their partner so it was necessary.

If it was for Dazai...

If it was for Dazai, Chuuya would have walked through Hell and back to see him again.

Yet Dazai had left him for another man's dream. He abandoned their partnership to fulfill the dying words of a man who lost his children. He ripped out Chuuya's heart and never gave it back.

It's pathetic. It's comical. It's the pointless story of a useless dog who couldn't hold onto anything. 

Chuuya doesn't need much. He would have been satisfied with a small home and a flimsy roof over his head as long as he could reach his hands out and find Dazai. He only ever wanted to protect the one person who completed him.

Dazai wanted a double suicide so Chuuya promised to give one to him. Dazai wanted a quiet death that wouldn't inconvenience anyone. But he's always been afraid of loneliness even if he refused to admit it.

So Chuuya promised to kill him. He'll give him a painless death and then follow him to Hell because he's a dog who only knows how to chase.

In the end, Dazai's life was claimed by gravity. He accomplished his goal of giving Oda Sakunosuke a life surrounded by his children. He wanted Oda Sakunosuke to live and there was nothing left to live for. He jumped off a building, gravity claimed his body, and he was little more than a splat on the pavement.

In a way, Chuuya had fulfilled his promise. Dazai had been killed by gravity - the very thing Chuuya held dominion over. He should have been satisfied but he wasn't.

He didn't get it. He didn't know why he wasn't enough of a reason for Dazai to live.

Both lifetimes resulted in Chuuya losing Dazai. He can't stand it. He despises how hallow it left him. He hates how terrified he is. He can't stand the thought of never hearing Dazai's voice, never feeling his touch, and never seeing his smile.

Chuuya would have done anything to keep Dazai from leaving him. And now, he's been given a third chance. He can learn from his predecessors. He won't make the same mistakes they did.

They were too lenient. They trusted Dazai too much. They didn't think Dazai was capable of abandoning them. They thought death would never welcome Dazai.

Between the Sheep and Dazai, it's clear who Chuuya chooses.

He is ten years old but he has the memories of two lives. He is not them but they are a part of him. Their desperation and devotion have mixed with his own to create a hungry beast.

Chuuya has always protected Dazai. In the two sets of memories, protecting Dazai was as easy as breathing. He finds the same naturalness following him in this life as well.

Initially, he only planned on watching Dazai from afar. There isn't much he can do at his current age and body. He can't get a job or find suitable shelter with how young he is. All he has is his inhuman strength.

Based on the memories he has received over the course of three years, Dazai is currently in Yokohama. He was born in Aomori prefecture and lived there for the majority of his childhood. But his family would stay in Yokohama several times a year.

There's only one place Dazai's birth family stayed in when they're in Yokohama. On the outskirts of the city, located in the wealthy area of the city is a mansion. Chuuya only knows about it because Dazai once brought him to their burnt remains. He looked like he was in a drunken daze when he talked about how he drowned the mansion in oil and set it ablaze. In all honesty, Chuuya found the intact home more off-putting than the charcoal mess.

"Aren't I too young to be getting stalkers?"

It isn't... Those aren't the first words Chuuya thought they would share. He thought they would have some kind of heartfelt moment. He should have known that the stupid fish wouldn't make things that easy.

He waited for three years to hear that insufferable voice. It's sarcasm masked with faux innocence. It's every bit as mocking as the one he remembers from his dreams. It's so perfect he could cry.

"Shut up. I'm not a stalker," he says instead. He tries for something gruff but it comes out hopelessly fond.

The mansion is burning. Black fumes reach for the stars above as the crackling flames curl and lick around a collapsing building. The heat radiating off the burning mansion is intense, threatening to suffocate anyone nearby. A piece of the roof crumbles, tooling over the structure and crushing anything it would land on.

It was comeuppance. Divine judgement had declared the people inside the mansion had to die. By morning, their bodies would be charcoal. Nothing will remain. Not the walls, the gardens, or even the memories.

Chuuya knows he is capable of cruelty. He has seen what horrors his hands were capable of when he closes his eyes. If Heaven existed, the pearly gates were meant to close on people like him. He has long since resigned himself to Hell.

Before there was Dazai Osamu, there was Tsushima Shuuji. It won't be until he's fourteen that Shuuji is christened Dazai.

Shuuji is a child, a mere waif with big eyes and bony arms. But because he was born with unbridled genius, he was also burdened by expectations as a result. In that unstable household, Shuuji's already fractured sense of self had further deteriorated.

Tsushima Shuuji had been alienated from humanity the very moment he was born. He was further isolated as a result of his parents's inability to accept his individuality.

A bird born in a cage does not know it is a prisoner. The cage is all it has. Without knowing it was a prisoner, it dies happily. But Shuuji knew he was in a cage. He was aware of the barrier between him and the humans who poked and prodded him from outside the cage.

He has been hurt by those who love and resent him. He has been hurt by himself. Chuuya would be damned if he lets him get hurt anymore.

Carrying Dazai came to him like second nature just like how protecting him had been ingrained into his being. Chuuya has countless memories of carrying Dazai. But knowing something is very different from reality.

Chuuya was content with letting Shuuji grow up with his family. If they made him happy, that was all that mattered. Chuuya never knew why Dazai brought him to the burnt remains of his childhood home or why he killed his parents and brother but he thinks he knows now.

In this life, he killed Shuuji's parents and brother. He was responsible for burning their home down. He doesn't regret it. He only wishes he had done so sooner.

Pressing his lips against the brunette's forehead, Chuuya takes them away from the burning mansion.

Chapter Text

Admittedly, there were a lot of terrible ideas running through Chuuya's head. The fear of being abandoned by Dazai had consumed him and it left him slightly less sane than the average person. Perhaps he was created that way. Those scientists never did care too much about morals.

From all the memories he gained, Chuuya knew he was a bad person. Or at least, he would grow up to be a bad person. It didn't bother him. He was fine with not conforming to social standards.

If anyone saw what sort of thoughts were brewing in his head, they would tell him he was in desperate need of psychiatric help. But they're wrong. What he needs is for Dazai Osamu to stop leaving him whether it be through betraying the Port Mafia or dying.

At first, Chuuya thought about cutting Dazai's legs off and gouging his eyes out. It had seemed like a reasonable option at the time. If Dazai couldn't move or see anything, he wouldn't be able to run away. Without his eyes, he would have to rely on whatever Chuuya allowed him to perceive.

Was that so wrong?

Chuuya was strong. He could carry Dazai anywhere he needed. He didn't mind being the brunette's eyes if it meant they would stay together. Maybe he'll even cut out his tongue so he couldn't spout any of his terrible lies.

There were so many senses he could deprive. Taking them away was for Dazai's own good. He was too self-destructive to be granted independence.

However, Chuuya didn't want any part of Dazai to leave him. That included his limbs and organs. Yes, he could keep them stored in some kind of preservative solution. It wouldn't be like Dazai could see them if he was blind.

Physically crippling Dazai was appealing.

But so was drugging him.

The black market housed all sorts of illegal contrabands with drugs being one of their key trades. There were all sorts of opioids, hallucinogens, and stimulants that could render Dazai unable to form any coherent thoughts. Without his ability to think, he wouldn't be able to use that oh-so-brilliant brain of his. He would be too high to think of leaving.

The Dazai Osamu Chuuya remembered had been deeply unhappy. He relied on a cocktail of substances to free himself from the confines of his misery. He nearly overdosed too many times to count.

Chuuya had become an expert in dealing with Dazai's highs and crashes. When Dazai's eyes look like glass and he can do nothing but giggle senselessly, Chuuya entertains his nonsensical babbling with patience and indulgence. He had held Dazai as the brunette's body was wracked with cold sweat - one of the many results of withdrawal. He cleaned up countless empty needles, shoved his fingers into Dazai's mouth to force him to vomit, and diluted bottles of alcohol with water.

Encouraging addiction of any kind is morally reprehensible. Drug addictions are a problem and that was putting it mildly. But Chuuya would be a liar if he said his chest didn't swell when Dazai, at his most vulnerable, had no one else but him to rely on.

Taking care of Dazai was like a special privilege reserved only for him. Only he was allowed to know the depths of his vulnerability. Only he was allowed to be the center of his world when he's unable to think properly.

It was not unlike taking care of a helpless pet and the pet becoming a clingy little thing that would die on its own. Dazai was a feeble animal that couldn't survive without Chuuya.

It's not an exaggeration.

Dazai's self-destructive tendencies can't be handled by anyone other than Chuuya.

Dazai used to gorge himself on pills and frequently inject all sorts of needles into his arms. No matter how much he bandaged his arms, it would never quite take away the itch. And if it wasn't the illicit hard stuff, he would smoke through a chain of cigarettes to get the shakes out of his fingers, or he would consume so much alcohol he forgot his name.

Whether it's the drugs, the suicide attempts, or the utter lack of regard for anything and everything, Dazai couldn't be trusted with his well-being. It had to be Chuuya's responsibility.

He was given a third chance to right his regrets. Getting Dazai addicted would be for his own good-

"Chuuya, I can't find my mug!"

Yes, Chuuya had many horrible thoughts. He remembered being a passive bystander to his partner's self-destruction because he enjoyed being relied on. He had no qualms about crippling his partner for his benefit.

"Go sit down. I'll find that stupid cup for you," the ginger said as he got up.

There was a clear correlation between the two sets of memories Chuuya received. Dazai was tormented by his isolated unhappiness. Unable to come to terms with the world around him, he sought a painless death.

So there was an obvious route Chuuya could take to save him from that loneliness.

If Dazai couldn't understand what it meant to be human, then he would grow up without wondering why he felt so alienated. He'll live an average life and make it into old age without ever seeing the dark side of human nature.

Dazai's helplessness and forcing his compliance were intoxicating. Chuuya isn't above admitting that. But Dazai's trust and happiness are even more captivating.

It isn't until Chuuya sees a line of hanging corpses that he remembers how tyrannical the previous boss of the Port Mafia was. Tiny bodies lined up in a neat row, feet dangling in the air as nooses wrapped around their necks. 

Because one red-haired boy graffitied a mafia-owned vehicle, every red-haired boy had been lynched. It's not an isolated incident. Chuuya is starting to remember all the other times the Port Mafia dealt out disproportionate retaliation. There was that time when all the residents of an apartment complex had been poisoned on the off chance a rival organization's executive lived there. Or when the Port Mafia made a married couple eat each other because they supposedly betrayed the organization.

For several years, the city was shrouded in paranoia. No one knew if their friends and family would turn on them or not. They were terrified of becoming the Port Mafia's next victim. Anyone who so much as looked at the Port Mafia the wrong way was slaughtered.

Mori has yet to slit the Boss' throat and assume leadership. The string of violence isn't going to be ending anytime soon. And seeing as how Dazai won't be assisting Mori in reforming the Port Mafia, it's unclear what direction the organization is heading towards.

Dazai had amassed a great deal of rumors and monikers as a mafioso. His reputation was akin to a cautionary tale, bordering on sounding like a fable.

It was widely believed he would take over the Port Mafia from a very young age. There's no one more suited for that chair than him. His blood may as well be black with how natural crime came to him. 

People called him the black wraith of the Port Mafia, whispering 'Demon Prodigy' every time he walked by.

They were right to be cautious. Fear kept them living another day. But Chuuya won't let the Demon Prodigy exist. There won't be a black wraith leading the Port Mafia's success.

In another universe, Dazai had assumed the mantle. He brought the mafia to heights thought to be impossible. The mafia's influence spanned far greater than what Mori could have accomplished.

He killed himself. He threw himself off a rooftop and gravity claimed him. The worst part was how his only regret was not reading Oda Sakunosuke's novel. It stung so much worse knowing how powerless Chuuya was in the face of Dazai's desperation.

Letting Dazai anywhere near the Port Mafia was out of the question. There seemed to be a common trend of betrayal and suicide when the two factors intersected. Chuuya won't let the filth of the mafia reach the brunette's shoes as long as there's still breath in his body. He'll do whatever it takes to keep them apart.

There exist necessary evils in the world; demons kept in check by greater monsters. No matter how beautiful paradise is, there's a dark underbelly of equal proportion.

Mori had been one of those necessary evils. He was a cruel bastard with no heart in that disgusting ribcage of his but he was practical. He knew what needed to be done; morals be damned. That practicality aided his leadership tremendously.

On the other hand, his predecessor served no purpose. The excessive brutality was distasteful. While Chuuya isn't above dirtying his hands, even he finds the senile bastard to be too extreme.

"Children your age should be in bed. Your parents will worry if they can't find you," Mori says with a playful lilt in his voice. His eyes are crinkled in a smile. His hands are in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed, giving him a false air of nonchalance.

The redhead knows better than to believe it. He can smell the metallic scent of blood from where he stood. He can feel the phantom sharp sting of scalpels and the unnatural presence of Elise. She's waiting to manifest.

Something warm and sticky trails down the curve of his cheek. The same warmth and stickiness coated his front. He's covered in so much red gore that he feels it beginning to crust uncomfortably. It's going to be a pain to clean his hair later but he knows it'll be worth it.

He can justify anything for the sake of a single individual.

Chuuya turns to Mori and takes a slow step forward. Droplets of blood follow him in his wake. Coupled with his footsteps, they're the only sound that reverberates in the empty room.

Finally, he stops in front of the doctor. He extends a hand and a silent offer with it. Their only audience is the leftover pieces of a compressed corpse.

For Dazai, he reminds himself. This is so Dazai can live in blissful naiveté.

Chapter Text

Every morning, Dazai wakes up with another warm body next to him. He would blearily blink away the sleep and catch the sight of fiery hair touched by morning sunlight. He would lazily run his hand through Chuuya's hair as he tried to work up the strength to leave the warmth of their shared bed.

It's never easy and Chuuya's reluctance to let him leave their bed doesn't help. Chuuya would bury his nose into the back of his neck and just tighten his grip around his waist. Dazai would then complain about his circulation being cut off but the grin on his face and the teasing lilt to his voice betrays any true annoyance. Even if the two of them slept on the farthest ends of the bed with their backs facing toward one another, they would end up cuddling no matter what.

But alas, school calls. Getting ready for the day is one of the biggest challenges Dazai has to face.

By the time Dazai can get his feet into the fuzzy slippers Chuuya bought him, his roommate has already finished washing his face and brushing his teeth. It's not fair how Chuuya can commit to leaving the bed. How could Dazai possibly resist the seductive comfort of his blanket, pillows, and sheets?

Their bathroom is a modern transitional bathroom with pedestal tiles and a sleek design that looks like it's from an interior design magazine. It even has both a glass-enclosed shower and a porcelain tub. Honestly, Dazai doesn't understand why Chuuya wanted both a shower and a tub. Maybe it's to add to the resale value?

In any case, Dazai grabs his cup and brush and begins brushing his teeth. His cup is a plain blue and his toothbrush is a stark red whereas Chuuya's cup is a stark red and his toothbrush is a plain blue. Chuuya said the set was on sale so that's why he purchased it.

Normally, Chuuya likes to shower in the morning. It leaves the bathroom steamy and Dazai hates having to get ready when it's so humid. So while he's finishing up, Chuuya makes breakfast.

"Bathroom's yours," Dazai said as he finished buttoning his shirt. The weather's pretty warm so he forgoes wearing the gakuran.

Chuuya makes an acknowledged noise and sets his mug down before walking away. Even before reaching the kitchen, Dazai can already smell the roasted scent of coffee. Sure, it has a pleasant smell. But it's so bitter! Dazai could understand the appeal if it's slathered with flavored syrups and whipped cream but Chuuya drinks his coffee black! Something is clearly wrong with his tastebuds! Or maybe he's just missing a few loose screws.

Breakfast is usually something light. When he lived with his parents, it was always such a chore to get through meals. The food would always feel too greasy, too heavy, and too nauseating. Dazai remembers how he used to force himself to finish every last bite only to vomit it all out later.

He never does that when Chuuya makes him food. Everything Chuuya makes him goes down easily and the portions aren't intimidating at all. His physical examination showed that he was still a bit underweight for his age but it's a massive improvement.

There's still some time left to lounge around before he has to go to school so Dazai finishes the manga he's been reading while eating his bread and fruit. The series is pretty popular and it's even getting an anime adaptation.

"Bring a sweater or something," Chuuya said as he finished his shower. "I don't want you to catch a cold if the wind picks up later in the day."

"Mm," Dazai hums, engrossed in his manga.

Chuuya sighs. He picks up Dazai's fork and stabs it into a piece of apple and then feeds it to the brunette. "Wear the beige knitted cardigan. And finish your breakfast before you start reading."

"But Chuuya~"

"Don't whine. I'm grabbing your bag so hurry up and eat or else I'm not driving you to school. I don't need my boss giving me crap about being late again."

It's an empty threat but Dazai hurries to down the last of the fruits and his iced tea anyway. He grabs the knitted cardigan from their closet and shuffles into his loafers. Just before he leaves, he checks once more in the mirror to make sure his hair isn't sticking in any odd angles. Thankfully, everything is in place.

According to the laws of the land, Chuuya shouldn't be driving. He's underaged for both cars and motorcycles but it doesn't stop him from driving both and Dazai sees no reason to complain. He likes the rush of adrenaline he gets when Chuuya revs his motorcycle.

The high school Chuuya enrolled him in was on the nicer side but wasn't full of trust fund babies and children of the elite. It's located in a good area and walking there is feasible as well. The best part is how the uniforms aren't itchy on Dazai's skin.

Chuuya doesn't go to school. He drops Dazai off and then heads to work. They're roughly the same age but their daily routines couldn't be further apart. He's not exactly sure what Chuuya does but he knows that it has something to do with trade. It also pays extremely well since Chuuya's income is enough to pay for an upscale apartment, an impressive collection of fine alcohol, and fund every hobby that catches Dazai's interest.

"Your stop," Chuuya said gruffly.

Dazai unwraps his arms from around the redhead and gets off. He takes his bag and adjusts his cardigan. But before he can leave, Chuuya cups a hand around his cheek. He runs his finger along the side of his ear, playing with the earring in his lobe.

The piercing was done a year ago. Chuuya really wanted Dazai to get his ears pierced and Dazai went along with it. The school doesn't prohibit piercings so it wasn't like it was a big deal. Chuuya must be really into earrings because he always touches the stud before they separate.

"Remember to text me during your breaks. And call me when you're out. I'll pick you up." Chuuya pulls his hand back with a satisfied expression.

"Alright, I will," Dazai promises with a cheerful smile.

Dazai should do this more often. Hanging out after school with his friends never crossed his mind until now. He wonders why. It's so much fun.

Maybe he should accept invitations to hang out more often. With how busy Chuuya is, disturbing his work schedule so he could pick him up wasn't the best decision now that he thought about it. Hanging out with his friends wouldn't be a bad way to pass the time.

It wasn't like this was the first time Dazai enjoyed a crepe. The last time Dazai had a crepe, it was with Chuuya. The time before that was also with the redhead. Every time he enjoyed a treat, it was with his roommate. So he's well aware of how delicious they are.

"The arcade is up ahead. Shusaku's uncle promised to give us a discount for the games." Ito was clearly eager to play although he looked like he was trying to hold back from showing too much excitement.

Dazai smiled as he took another bite of the crepe. The whipped cream was just the perfect consistency. It wasn't too thick and it wasn't thin enough to immediately start melting. The shop was also very generous with the toppings.

"What sort of games are there in an arcade?" he asked.

Ito and Shusaku gasped as though he personally offended six generations of their family. In his defense, he never went to an arcade before. He's only seen them in mangas or dramas.

"I'll win you something from a claw machine to commemorate your first taste of being a teen," Shusaku said.

Dazai shrugged. Hopefully, he'll get a keychain. He's been meaning to make his bag less boring. Originally, he was going to ask Chuuya to get him something but this works just as well. Oh! Maybe Shusaku will get lucky and Dazai can go home with two keychains. He can give one to Chuuya.

He takes another bite of his crepe, savoring the smooth chocolate truffles and sliced strawberries. He listens with rapt attention to his friends' conversation, occasionally chiming in. 

Instead of having Chuuya pick him up after school, he should walk back home more often. The school isn't too far from the apartment complex. With spring slowly turning to summer, it would be a waste of good weather to not enjoy it.

Finished with the dessert, Dazai tosses the paper wrapper in a nearby trashcan. Just like what Ito and Shusaku said, he can already see the arcade. It's on the nicer side, probably a franchise.

When it comes to his allowance, Chuuya gives him a lot of spending money. He even has full access to all of his cards. Claw machines are notoriously difficult and Dazai could afford to be a little wasteful every now and then. He'll be a liar if he says he's not curious about the arcade cabinets.

If the arcade is as fun as his friends make it out to be, then he should also bring-

Is he falling? Something or someone is yanking him from behind. A hand? There's a hand around his wrist and he's tipping backward. He falls against another body with a soft oomf from his lips.

"Chuuya?"

He turns his head, finding familiar curls of orange. Suddenly, any panic he felt over being yanked and falling disappeared, replaced with joy. He pulls his wrist out of Chuuya's now slack hand and gives the redhead a big hug.

"I thought you were busy with work. What are you doing here?" he asked, not at all disappointed. Ah, he should probably let go of the other male so he could breathe.

There is silence but it's so brief that Dazai wonders if he was overthinking it. He pushes Chuuya's pork pie hat out of his eyes.

"Chuuya?" he repeated.

For the first eight years of his life, Chuuya lived in a state of unconsciousness. He knows there were scientists, cloning tanks, and a lot of pain. Then, he lived in a warehouse with the Sheep for a few short years. And for a few shorter months, he lived in a shabby studio apartment with Dazai. At the time, it was all they could afford. But there were also fond memories there if only because he and Dazai shared that space together.

Then, Chuuya made a deal with the devil. The Port Mafia stood in the center of many underground conflicts and had a tight leash over the violence of Yokohama. Helping Mori was necessary to keep Dazai blissfully unaware. Chuuya didn't mind the work of the mafia. At one point, he even found the mafia to be like his family.

He won't let the mafia touch Dazai. He'll make sure the problems of his other lives will never reach Dazai's world. It doesn't matter how many people he has to kill for Mori. No matter how many organizations or singularities he has to fight, he'll make sure to get the job done in time to pick Dazai up.

Almost immediately after moving into the luxury apartment in the center of the Port Mafia's territory, Chuuya brought Dazai to a shop to get his ears pierced. He had been very insistent and had to buy Dazai a gameboy for him to agree.

That was fine. It's a small price to pay for something even more valuable. And Dazai's happy grin alone would have been worth it.

The earrings are a simple pair of studs. Chuuya had them commissioned by the engineers of the Port Mafia. To the naked eye, they looked like any other jewelry someone could find on a display case. Obviously, it wasn't just regular earrings. 

Inside the pure titanium shell was a microscopic tracking chip. Silver, gold, and platinum would have interfered with the tracking device's signal. Titanium wasn't that dense of a precious metal that it would interfere with the signal but it doesn't rust or tarnish.  

Chuuya has two trackers on Dazai. First, there are his earrings. The other tracker was a chip installed in the back of his flip phone. The phone wasn't enough. On the chance that Dazai didn't have his phone on him, Chuuya wouldn't know where he was. That couldn't happen. What if the brunette decided to get himself killed while he wasn't looking? Chuuya promised he would never repeat the mistakes of his other selves.

They were too complacent. They believed that Dazai would never leave. Look at where their arrogance got them? They were abandoned by the one person they couldn't let go of. One of the upsides to having those extra sets of memories was learning from the mistakes of his predecessors.

Keeping an eye on Dazai's location at all times was integral to keeping him safe. The tracker in Dazai's earrings was too small to also pick up live audio. That was the tradeoff for it being so small and discreet. But the tracker in Dazai's phone had no such issue.

It wouldn't do if someone had a conversation with or around Dazai that could lead him astray. Because Dazai became friends with that spy of a government agent and the lowest-ranking grunt of the Port Mafia, he was led astray.

That mustn't happen. He'd sooner skin Sakaguchi Ango and Oda Sakunosuke alive than let them so much as look in Dazai's general direction. It's kinder than what they deserve.

Chuuya doesn't think he can handle Dazai leaving him again.

Just then, the ringtone of his phone snaps him out of his thoughts. He sets his pen down and picks up the device. The name on the screen tells him it's not Dazai and he can't help the irritation that builds in his guts.

Hirotsu is a good man. A faithful servant of the mafia who's devoted more years to the organization than most. Chuuya always respected the man's dedication so he tries not to let his annoyance bleed into his voice when he answers the call.

"Is that all?" Chuuya asked after Hirotsu was done relaying a message. "Don't worry. Tell the boss I'll deal with them myself."

A deep sigh escapes him. He runs a hand through his bangs, gripping his hair with too much force. His irritation is building and he wants nothing more than to break a wall.

He's been waiting for a call. Dazai agreed to call him once his class was over. He even promised him. So where was that call? It's been twenty-three minutes since the usual time for the call. That was more than enough time for Dazai to make a call.

Chuuya didn't want to come off as controlling. It might freak Dazai out and he couldn't risk that. But he can't stand it. Checking Dazai's location doesn't ease the irritation. If anything, it just pisses him off more.

Dazai is still in Yokohama. The dot on Chuuya's screen tells him the brunette is taking a stroll a couple streets away. It would be so easy for him to get kidnapped. He can't defend himself. That's what Chuuya is for. Soukoku was created to protect Dazai.

Refreshing his messages, Chuuya only sees the text from over an hour ago. Hah... Is he becoming too casual? Could it be that he's repeating the same mistakes as his other lives?

Cold washes over him. Before he's aware of it, he's darting out of the building. He rushes to follow the signal on his phone, grip just shy of snapping the device. He doesn't need Tainted to-

There.

He locks on to the brunette with an obsessive desperation.

Stopping Dazai soothed a part of him. The cool wash of No Longer Human pacifies Arahabaki's barely sentient anger. The god's fire is everlasting until it meets something equally inhuman.

He's breathing heavily but he's not sure why. Dazai was only a short distance away. He didn't need his Ability to catch up. He's endured a lot worse to come out not even a little winded. So why is he struggling to breathe?

"Chuuya?"

Faintly registering Dazai's voice, he wills himself to calm down. He had caught Dazai by instinct and stopped him from landing on the ground. Shifting one of his hands, he sees the beginnings of an injury on the brunette's wrist. There's going to be a ring of bruises later. He should apologize even if he doesn't mean it.

The arms that wrap around him are familiar and he does nothing to hold himself back. He happily welcomes the hug.

"I thought you were busy with work. What are you doing here?" Dazai asked, excitement bleeding into his words. It takes everything in Chuuya to not chase the warmth when Dazai puts some distance between them.

What should he do? He can't just break Dazai's legs and drag him back home for breaking their promise. Oh... But he could. Mori would most likely give him a scolding for causing a scene and needing to waste resources to cover up the crime. It won't be a big deal.

"Chuuya?"

"Sorry, I was lost in thought," Chuuya said nonchalantly. He plasters a friendly smile on his face, one that makes him look his age despite the sharp suit he's wearing. "Where are you going?"

"The arcade," Dazai answered. "Shusuke and Ito asked me to hang out with them. We got crepes. I would have gotten you something if I had known you would show up."

"Why didn't you call me? You could've sent a text at the very least."

An embarrassed pink hue flushes across Dazai's face. He chuckles awkwardly as he answers with a quiet, "Broke."

"How did that happen?"

"I was on the stairs texting you. Someone accidentally bumped into me and I dropped my phone. It couldn't be salvaged since it was a really bad drop."

"You didn't call me because your phone was broken?" Chuuya summarizes. At Dazai's nod, he feels relief flooding his chest. "I'll buy you a replacement tomorrow. Do you still want the same flip phone model or do you want to switch to something with a touchscreen?"

"Same, please!"

Chuuya makes a mental note to hack into the camera footage of Dazai's school. It has enough budget to cover decent security measures, it's one of the reasons why Chuuya chose that place. Once he gets Dazai home, he'll get that footage and deal with whoever it was that bumped into Dazai.

The redhead reaffirms his grasp over Dazai's wrist, taking special care to grab the one that won't be bruised. His grip isn't as tight now that he is raked with anxiety but it can't be called loose either. The resistance he's met with when he heads towards another direction surprises him.

"Dazai?" This time, he's the one confused. He doesn't let go but he does wait to hear what the other has to say. He can afford to be a little kind. Although he cannot guarantee how long his kindness will last.

"I promised my friends I would go to the arcade with them," Dazai said.

Chuuya hates the very idea. Going to an arcade was something he used to do with Dazai in one of his other lives. For Dazai to go with someone else felt like the memories were being polluted. It was unnatural. It wasn't right.

"We can go tomorrow. We'll play as much as you want. So let's go home for now," Chuuya bargains. He tries to keep any sharpness out of his tone. It's difficult, but he's always gone out of his way for his partner.

"But..."

"I'm not asking for much," Chuuya presses. He leans a little closer to Dazai. "Right?"

Dazai is upset. It's obvious even if he wasn't sullenly pushing a pencil back and forth. He's slumped over the dining table and he hasn't even taken his cardigan off yet. His homework is laid out on the table but he doesn't spare it a single glance.

Chuuya knows it's his fault. He doesn't really understand it. Dazai will still get to see his friends. He will still get to play at the arcade.

It's...

It's not like Chuuya wanted to upset Dazai. It's why he carefully chose his words to not cause an argument. He knew the best ways to get Dazai to agree with him. After all, he had three lifetimes to his advantage.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Dazai never did a good job staying mad at him when he mellowed his voice out like that. He can feign remorse without blinking.

Dazai turns his face away but the way his fingers dug into the soft fabric of his cardigan gives away his crumbling resistance. Chuuya sighs and stalks off to the kitchen to retrieve something. When he comes back, he's holding a shiny cardboard box with elegant designs around it. He sets it in front of the youth and opens it.

It's a strawberry tart.

Yesterday, Dazai mentioned a craving for strawberry tarts. Not just any strawberry tarts but one from a very specific patisserie. The shop is extremely popular and located in the heart of Shibuya. The last time Dazai went to the shop, the queue circled around the block twice.

"You know I was just worried, right? We always call and I always pick you up. When I didn't get a call or a text, I was about to panic. I thought you were hurt," Chuuya said, maintaining the same softness.

Dazai slowly raises his head. There is still disappointment evident on his face but it's slightly offset by the guilt.

"I know...that Chuuya was...troubled... You only have good intentions. I didn't mean to make you worried," Dazai said, eyes downcast. He bites his lips. "I'm sorry, Chuuya."

Chuuya smiles affectionately. "It's fine. Since I went through the trouble of getting you that tart, you should enjoy it. That's enough for me. Let me get you a fork."

"Thank you."

"It's fine if you want to play with your friends. As long as you tell me, I don't mind," Chuuya said with a shrug.

"Really?"

"Yep. Just tell me and it'll be fine." A teasing grin tugs the redhead's lips. "But if you can't, you have to come home straight away or else I'll change the wifi password."

"Chuuya~! That's unfair!"

Dazai's laughter is clearer than silver bells. It makes Chuuya's stomach flutter. He loves that sound.

But he was completely serious about Dazai being transparent with him. He can forgive this transgression because it was a first offense and Dazai didn't intentionally break their promise. But there is no second chance. He can't risk letting Dazai play with his fondness for him.

Chapter Text

Dazai resembles a frail stray cat. It's not the first time Chuuya's made the comparison. He can't help but look at Dazai with his large eyes, thin wrists, and fickle mind and think of anything but a burnt black cat. He's cute and precocious but also withdrawn and hard to read.

Abandoned strays with no one to protect them will die on the streets. They need someone to protect them, to keep them fed and sheltered. They can't survive on their own. 

In Chuuya's eyes, Dazai would be dead without his intervention. He doesn't have the drive to go on living; quite the opposite. He welcomes death with open arms and wide smiles. Every time Dazai is a breath away from never waking up again, Chuuya greedily snatches him away from Death's hands.

Chuuya has patched the aftermath of Dazai's suicide attempts more times than he cares to count. He's seen how ugly Dazai could get when he's driven mad by his desperation to find peace. He knows firsthand what kind of lengths Dazai would go to for his goals. 

How should he domesticate a cat as independent and fickle as Dazai?

Shelter seemed the most obvious. And food, of course. Yuan used to preach about how stray animals would always go back to safe spaces that would guarantee them food. She loved stray cats the most. It's something Chuuya can relate to.

But Chuuya doesn't just want to give Dazai a place he can go back to whenever he feels like it. He wants Dazai to stay. 

Dazai has to be monitored or else he'll disappear. Who knows where Dazai will wander off if Chuuya isn't looking? Chuuya's other two counterparts should have kept a better eye on their Dazai. They have no one to blame but themselves for the deaths of their Dazai.

Plenty of pet owners get their pets chipped. It's an understandable precaution. It's a reliable method for tracking down missing pets. The microchips in Dazai's earrings have yet to let Chuuya down. As for the phone,

"Here," Chuuya said as he placed a sleek box on the table.

Dazai sets his pencil down, momentarily setting his homework aside so he can check out what Chuuya got him. He has free access to Chuuya's cards and he hasn't purchased anything recently nor has he asked Chuuya for anything. So what could it be?

Oh! It's a new phone.

"You got me the same model as last time," Dazai noticed as he unboxed his new device. He always enjoyed the feeling of opening new packages. There was just something about the process that satisfied him.

"Mm," Chuuya responded. "You said you wanted the same model. Though I don't know why you like using flip phones that much."

"Chuuya wouldn't understand the aesthetic," the brunette tutted.

After a brief moment of fawning over his new flip phone, Dazai ran off to the bedroom. He rummaged through the desk drawers until he found what he was looking for. Then he hurried back to where his new phone awaited him. 

Chuuya walked around Dazai's back to get a better look at what the brunette was doing. "That's what you were working on last week?" he asked, sipping his coffee afterward.

"Mmhm," Dazai hummed. His hands made quick work of attaching the keychain to his phone. Once done, he showed it to Chuuya. "What do you think?"

"Looks good."

"You think so?"

Dazai held his phone above his face, letting the keychain dangle over him. Some seconds of silence passed by before he decided he wanted to see what his phone would look like with his other keychains.

Last week, a group of girls brought their craft supplies to school and were making matching bracelets and keychains. It caught Dazai's interest and when he asked about it, they were happy to show him their process. That very night, Dazai went on Chuuya's laptop and went on a spending spree. He bought the recommended set of pliers, a vast variety of chains, threads, and wire, as well as every charm and bead that caught his eye.

Needless to say, Chuuya had to watch his step when he got out of bed or else he'd end up with unclosed metal rings sticking to his toe. The one time he told Dazai to clean up his mess had been token and not backed by any consequence. The mess didn't really bother him. He had no problem with it. Their bedroom was more than big enough for Dazai's whims.

"I'm heading out. What do you want for dinner? I'll pick something up along the way," Chuuya said, leaning against the doorframe of their bedroom.

"Anything's fine," Dazai replied distractedly. His attention is on his rather impressive collection of handmade trinkets and small baubles won from crane games. He's in his own little world right now.

Chuuya dumps the rest of his coffee down the sink drain, grabs his keys and phone, and then locks the door behind him. Given Dazai's habits when it comes to his hyper fixations, he'll be occupied for a while. It's enough time for Chuuya to get his errand over with and be back in time with dinner.

The mafioso runs a hand through his hair. He really, really doesn't like it when his work life starts interfering with his personal life. He sighs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. There are times where he has to go out of his way to protect Dazai and this was one of those times.

Chuuya owns two phones. There's his main one that he uses almost daily. Since he fronts as a legitimate businessman in the gem trade, he has business partners and shareholders who are unaware of the black market he operates. They contact him through that phone. Dazai also uses Chuuya's phone at random so Chuuya has to make sure he can't trace it to any mafia-related dealings.

The other phone is a dual SIM phone. There's one number for his less-than-legal affiliations and another that he uses specifically for high-ranking Port Mafia members like Mori or-

"Good evening, Chuuya. This cafe you picked out has a lovely selection of pudding."

Or sub executives like Randou.

Chuuya doesn't respond immediately, just pulls out the chair opposite of Randou so he can take a seat. He figures Randou probably has a liking for pudding since he buys it during birthdays, according to his journal entries at least.

"My brother's going to visit me," Chuuya began without preamble. "He's a complicated guy and I prefer keeping my distance."

"Ah, I see. Sibling conflict can be rather difficult," Randou said lightly.

"Mind dealing with him?" Chuuya is aware of how entitled he sounds. The Port Mafia's boss's protege asking a sub-executive to take care of his problem without even offering anything in compensation would sound audacious to anyone. Some would even take offense to it on Randou's behalf.

"Apologies, Chuuya. But the personal family drama of my coworkers is something I tend to avoid," Randou said with a polite yet somewhat strained smile on his face. He would have looked like the perfect mix of apprehension and civility if Chuuya weren't so skilled at reading people. Being partners with Dazai in two other lifetimes does have some benefits.

"I have a feeling you'd want to meet him," Chuuya said, leaning just a bit closer. He allowed a toothy grin on his face. "Just like you, he's also a former intelligence operative for the French government."

Chuuya does have to hand it to Randou though. No, his name was Rimbaud, wasn't it?

Rimbaud's expression is one of muted surprise. He seemed mildly intrigued by Chuuya's accusation just now, but neutral as far as everything else looks. He would have fooled anyone else into believing he's just a little surprised. Right now, he's probably weighing the pros and cons of entertaining Chuuya. 

"Excuse me...? I... I'm not sure how to react here. I would like to think I know what my occupation history is," Rimbaud said.

"My brother's personality has a lot to be desired. But you've never taken his asshole tendencies to heart, so I think you'll be able to handle him just fine." Chuuya didn't bother acknowledging Rimbaud's attempt at evasion.

"Chuuya..."

"Even though you've got an incomplete set of memories from that little spat you two had, he's never once left your mind, has he?"

"..."

"Every day, every night, you wonder what happened to him, right? You pieced together what you could from that journal of yours but it didn't answer the question. Did he die in the explosion that created Suribachi City? Did he survive? His outcome is the one thing you can't answer."

Chuuya hasn't broken eye contact from the moment he began speaking. His grin bordered on goading. The faux confusion gradually melted from Rimbaud's face, replaced by cold and assessing apathy. However, Rimbaud couldn't mask the piercing intensity in his eyes.

The traitor's left hand twitched - a telltale sign of an ensuing fight. But it didn't shake the grin on Chuuya's face. He knew the twitch was just Rimbaud contemplating his options. He knew Rimbaud wasn't a fan of unnecessary violence.

They continued to stare at one another, neither willing to break the fragile silence. Rimbaud was most likely weighing the truth of Chuuya's words. But if the cautious softening of his facial features was anything to go by, then it meant he was willing to cooperate.

"I had my suspicions," Rimbaud said slowly. "Your Ability to manipulate gravity worked just like Paul's. That's not to say it was the deciding factor. It's rare, but there have been cases where individuals with no relation to one another share the same Ability. Nonetheless, my curiosity was piqued and I looked into your family background. Yet I couldn't find anything and that was telling enough on its own."

Chuuya scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Any records of me went missing when I blew up the lab nearly eight years ago."

Having had a longstanding question answered, Rimbaud smiled gently. "Project Arahabaki was meant to be a national secret. I doubt the government would have let anything slip even if you didn't render the surrounding area to a crater."

"Anyway," Chuuya moved on. "Verlaine's gonna come for me since he's got this misguided sense of brotherhood going on. I have no interest in leaving Yokohama so what do you think? I give you the details of your ex-partner's plans and you take care of my family drama."

"If you don't mind my asking, what ties you to Yokohama. Surely it can't be out of loyalty to the Port Mafia."

"Actually, I do mind."

Chuuya leaves without another word.

Rimbaud doesn't need to know about Dazai. Nobody does. Dazai is a precious secret and Chuuya would resort to anything if it meant keeping that precious secret to himself. 

On Chuuya's way to pick up food, Mori gives him a call. It's just a formality to see how his talk with Rimbaud went. Chuuya didn't say much but he summed it up with a positive note. And when Mori asked him to complete a quick errand for the Port Mafia, Chuuya hung up before he could finish since he had a cat to feed.

"Chuuya forgot my pudding," Dazai pouted.

"Chuuya didn't forget shit," Chuuya said without any actual heat.

Dazai hadn't asked for pudding but he's taken a liking to it recently so Chuuya bought some just in case he has a craving. His intuition when it comes to Dazai shouldn't be underestimated.

The table is covered in Italian takeout and boba drinks. Chuuya made sure to order dishes that Dazai would take at least one bite of. The creamy seafood pasta is half finished and Dazai only ate two spoons of the truffle risotto. The tiramisu also had a few bites taken out of it before being set aside for the matcha boba.

Leaving so much food unfinished is nothing short of wasteful. So Chuuya just packs the leftovers to be eaten another day. It would have been a waste of good food otherwise.

He wasn't going to force Dazai to eat more than he could handle. He knew better than to repeat the mistakes of his counterparts.

Dazai naturally has a small appetite. His sweet tooth makes him eager to try new desserts, but he can't stomach too much of anything or else he'll throw up everything. Dazai wasn't a big eater and coupled with his issues from those other worlds, malnutrition rendered him a waif.

It wouldn't be rare for the Dazai of those other worlds to go days without a proper meal. Surviving off of quick rations and forgoing water until he passed out was a common occurrence.

Chuuya has no intention of letting Dazai waste away from starvation and dehydration. Dazai is going to live a long life and a healthy body is necessary for that goal. Even if that means Chuuya has to strap him down and force nutrition down his throat.

"Ah! Did my advice help?" Dazai asked out of the blue, lips mouthing around the straw of his drink. His knees are pressed against the edge of the table and he's slouching at a horrible angle for his posture.

Chuuya nodded. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Realistically, Chuuya isn't strong enough to defeat Rimbaud. The former intelligence operative has an incredibly annoying Ability and it's one of the few that can handle Chuuya's own overpowered strength. Trying to fight him all alone and at the mere age of fifteen is suicide.

Chuuya's other counterparts needed Dazai to help them win. Two fifteen-year-old brats winning against a man of Rimbaud's caliber is more than just terrifying and impressive.

It didn't feel that way.

To Chuuya, it felt right fighting by Dazai's side. Not once had the thought of losing ever crossed his mind when he had Dazai with him. Winning felt natural. Their enemies - no matter how powerful - would blur into another tally mark in Soukoku's record of victories.

However...

"Go shower soon. You have school tomorrow," Chuuya reminded. Dazai made an exaggerated noise in response.

However, Dazai will never step onto a battlefield. Violence and bloodshed will never touch Dazai. Dazai will never be exposed to the ugliness of human nature.

When Chuuya asked for advice on how to handle Rimbaud, he worded it as though Rimbaud was a coworker who just misses his ex a lot and is taking it out on others. Dazai suggested having the ex come back and getting the two of them to talk their feelings out.

It was somewhat underhanded but Chuuya took Dazai's advice. He lured Verlaine into Yokohama with a picture of him and a small case file on Project Arahabaki. The picture alone would have been enough to draw the blond in. But Chuuya couldn't simply rely on Verlaine connecting the little boy he saved from the lab to the rising mafioso.

Rimbaud and Verlaine will have their "talk". And if it ended with one or both of them dead, then Chuuya has no problem with that outcome. If there is a survivor and he chooses to become a member of the Port Mafia, then the organization will gain a very strong card. But in the opposite scenario, the Port Mafia will have an emotionally unstable powerhouse out in the wild.

Having Rimbaud or Verlaine as enemies of the Port Mafia would be less than ideal. It would mean more work for Chuuya and less time with Dazai.

He lets out a tired sigh. He's fifteen and he feels older than his years. There isn't a moment of rest for him, not if he wants Dazai to-

"Chuuya! Are we bathing together?"

"...Yeah. I'm coming."

Later, when the steam from the hot water gives the bathroom a slight fog and the two teens are slotted across one another in the porcelain tub, there is only the sound of rippling water and the occasional hum. The tub isn't small by any means. It's more than big enough to have two teenage boys sit with their legs spread across from one another. 

Chuuya's earlier train of thought was interrupted but it's not unwelcomed. Mafia work has been getting to him. Today was probably the fourth day he's gone without a proper night of sleep and the exhaustion showed.

The warmth of the steam was lulling him to sleep. The water soothed all the aches and soreness he carried from being one of the strongest mafioso of the Port Mafia. It's been ages since he felt clean. Not the quick shower to get rid of dirt, sweat, and grime, but an actual experience that made his soul feel just a bit cleaner.

Opening only one eye, Chuuya fixes his gaze on the brunette in front of him. Dazai is just as boneless as he is right now, practically melting into the comfort of the hot bath. He looks like a very pleased cat.

A fond smile makes it to Chuuya's lips, drawing out a chuckle as Dazai blinks his big doe eyes at him in confusion. A second of eye contact passes by before Dazai adjusts his position. He makes his way towards Chuuya and shifts around until he's satisfied. The new position featured him pressed on Chuuya's chest with his face against the ginger's shoulder and collarbone.

"What's got Chuuya smiling like that?" he asked.

"I'm just thinking to myself. Don't worry," Chuuya answered unhelpfully. He fixes his arms around Dazai's waist. They fit so perfectly there that it's almost like it was his birthright.

Dazai's lips purse and his brows furrow slightly but he doesn't press the issue. He drops his head, mumbles something unintelligible, and then goes back to enjoying the bath in silence.

It's almost magical how just the mere sight of Dazai can make Chuuya forget about his bloodstained hands and disgusting desperation. All the exhaustion he carries from the weight of two failures seems to melt away when Dazai looks at him.

Like this, he can pretend he and Dazai will live the rest of their lives in domestic bliss. He wants that future more than anything else. A perfect world where Dazai is happy enough to enjoy living.

The laws of underage labor are strict. High school students are allowed to work part-time but restrictions apply. Depending on the school, the student body could be outright forbidden from finding part-time work. Dazai's school is located on the nicer side so there's an emphasis for students to focus more on their education than money-making. That's not to say they can't work. They just need to find a job that won't interfere with their studies or after-school activities.

Money isn't a struggle Dazai has experienced. He was born into an affluent family and despite everything they've done, poverty wasn't one of the things he had to survive. There was a brief period of time when he and Chuuya lived in a shabby studio apartment. 

But now?

He lives in an upscale apartment, gets driven to and from school every day, and has every one of his whims met before he blinks. 

And it's all thanks to Chuuya!

They're the same age but Chuuya is singlehandedly funding their lifestyle. Although he's never so much as commented on being the breadwinner, Dazai can't help but wonder if Chuuya would like it if he contributed a little.

Well, it's not like any part-time job Dazai finds will help. Chuuya makes a lot of money. His work is incredibly lucrative. Like, his income is stupidly stacked. It almost makes Dazai question the legality of Chuuya's employment. Considering how Chuuya is just fifteen, he's probably breaking a few labor laws already.

In any case, Dazai thinks working part-time will be nice. He should probably build a good work ethic before he becomes Chuuya's pampered house pet.

"The Armed Detective Agency...?" Kazuo reads aloud.

"Mmhm," Dazai nods. He takes the card back. "Shirataka's older sister works there and said they were hiring. So I asked for their email and she gave me their business card."

"Eh? Why? Isn't your roommate loaded?"

"If I'm going to become a functioning, independent adult one day, I can't have Chuuya doing everything for me." Dazai pauses. "Wait, can I?"

Maybe he can. Alright, he's decided. Living off of Chuuya can be his backup plan if this thing with the Agency doesn't work out.

"Anyway, what position are you applying for?"

"The Agency is looking for clerks. It's just scheduling appointments and managing files, right?"

Kazuo tells him there's more to being a clerk than just scheduling appointments and managing files. Dazai tunes out what his friend is saying, nodding at what he hopes are the right moments. He's pretty smart. He consistently gets top marks even when he's not trying. So he's sure he'll learn how to work at the Armed Detective Agency.

The prospect of doing something as "adultish" as finding a job has Dazai jittery with excitement. He rushes past his friends, barely getting his farewells out, and spots Chuuya waiting for him in front of the school gate like usual.

He throws himself towards the ginger. It'd be pretty dangerous if he weren't absolutely sure Chuuya would catch him. Because despite how short his roommate is, Chuuya is surprisingly well-built.

Chuuya fluffs Dazai's hair a few times and then curls his index finger and thumb around one of Dazai's earrings. After twiddling with the stud for a bit, Chuuya's hand gravitates towards Dazai's and he pulls the brunette towards his motorcycle.

With minimal help from Chuuya, Dazai hops on. He adjusts his bag so it wouldn't fall off and wraps his arms around Chuuya's middle. There's the loud roar of the engine and then they're off.

Out of the many great things from having Chuuya pick him up, Dazai enjoys the ride the best. Having the wind in his face, his hair flying around, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins is exhilarating. It's overwhelming in the best way. It's the closest he's felt to flying.

Dazai knows Chuuya won't let him fall. So sometimes, he'll grip Chuuya's shoulders, stand on the foot pegs, and just embrace the way the air hits him. 

Would free-falling feel the same way? He imagines there would be some similarities. He's almost tempted to try. But throwing himself off the rooftop of the nearest building is probably going to end badly for him. 

Dazai buries his face in Chuuya's back. He can smell the laundry detergent from the ginger's clothes, his hair oil and body wash, and the faint scent of tobacco all mixing into something uniquely Chuuya.

Knowing Chuuya, he'll just catch him if Dazai does throw himself off a building.