Chapter Text
The mission brief was simple. Too simple.
Mori handed it to Dazai with his usual corpse-smile and poured himself tea as if no one in the room was a killer. “Retrieve the ledger. Do not kill the man.”
He placed special emphasis on the last part. The kind of calm, deliberate tone Mori reserved for instructions he didn’t want misinterpreted.
Chuuya narrowed his eyes. “You sure about that?”
Mori raised a brow. “You don’t trust your partner?”
Dazai stretched like a cat, his arms over his head, shirt riding slightly above his hip. “I’m flattered, Boss. Truly. You think I can’t resist the thrill of murder.”
“I think you’ll find an excuse for it,” Mori said flatly. “But I want him alive.”
“Why?” Chuuya asked.
Elise giggled. “Because it’s more fun that way!”
Chuuya ignored her.
Mori tapped a single name in the folder: Kawakami Jin. “He’s not useful dead. He knows where the original ledger is. The fake one’s just a lure. Bring him in intact.”
Dazai hummed. “That’s so boring. But sure. I’ll be gentle.”
Chuuya snorted. “That’ll be a first.”
“Careful, Chuuya,” Dazai said, tone lazy but eyes sharp. “You might hurt my feelings.”
“I hope I do.”
“Boys,” Mori said without looking up. “Play nice.”
⸻
The briefing room emptied. Chuuya lit a cigarette.
Dazai didn’t move.
He stayed leaning against the wall, arms crossed, unreadable.
“You planning something already?” Chuuya muttered, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling.
“I’m always planning something.”
Chuuya glanced over. “What is it this time?”
Dazai smiled.
That particular kind. The one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering what you’ll do if the man mentions your name.”
Chuuya paused.
“…Why would he?”
“No reason,” Dazai said lightly. “Just curious.”
⸻
They took the train west.
Chuuya hated riding next to Dazai. He took up too much space — knee bouncing, elbow resting on the divider, coat shoved messily in the overhead. His scent was all spice and static, something sharp beneath the fabric.
Chuuya tried not to breathe too deeply.
Tried not to look at the way Dazai was watching him.
“You’re tense,” Dazai said. “Afraid you’ll mess up?”
“Afraid you will,” Chuuya snapped.
Dazai leaned in, voice low. “He’s a liar, you know.”
“You’ve met him?”
“No. But I know his type.”
“You mean your type.”
Dazai chuckled. “Touché.”
They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.
⸻
The safehouse in Fukuoka was too clean. White walls, pale tile, steel door. One-way mirror. Chuuya paced like a caged panther.
Dazai, of course, had made himself comfortable — lounging on the cot, reading the file again. Not because he needed to. Just to make Chuuya feel like he wasn’t doing enough.
Chuuya hated how well it worked.
Their target, Kawakami, was holed up in a riverside factory. The man used to be low-tier Mafia — until he got ambitious. He’d taken bribes, sold internal secrets, and gone ghost with a fake name and a briefcase full of blackmail.
The ledger wasn’t a book. It was digital. Hidden behind layers of encrypted proxies.
They needed him breathing to unlock it.
Chuuya knew this.
He also knew Dazai didn’t give a shit.
⸻
They hit the compound at 2 AM.
Chuuya moved like fire — fluid, fast, brutal. Dazai moved like smoke. They didn’t need to talk.
Ten guards. Three security layers. One reinforced vault.
The man inside wasn’t much to look at. Kawakami Jin. Mid-forties, balding, sweat-stained shirt. He didn’t even reach for a weapon — just stammered as Dazai cuffed his wrists behind his back.
“You’re coming with us,” Chuuya growled.
“I-I didn’t mean to—please, I can explain—”
“I bet you can.”
Dazai knelt beside him, smile too wide. “Tell us on the train.”
They hauled him out.
Chuuya didn’t question it.
Not yet.
⸻
It was halfway through the return trip — somewhere outside Osaka, with rain tapping the window — when Kawakami said it.
“I only did what he said,” he gasped, trying to shrink between them. “That red-haired kid. You—you know him, right?”
Chuuya’s heart went cold.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he said.
“You—back in Yokohama, years ago—” Kawakami’s eyes were wide. “You were with the Sheep. You were one of the kids that ran the docks—Renji told me—you’re that monster.”
The air went still.
Dazai didn’t blink.
Chuuya’s jaw locked.
“Who the fuck is Renji?” he asked, even though he knew.
Kawakami trembled. “You—you killed a man. Crushed him. That’s what they told me. That if I ever met you, I should run.”
Silence.
Then Dazai stood.
“I’ll take the next car,” he said casually. “You two get to know each other.”
He stepped through the door and disappeared.
Chuuya stared after him, stunned.
And then Kawakami whispered: “He said you were loyal to him. That you’d do whatever he told you to.”
Chuuya turned slowly.
“…What?”
“I—he said I’d be safe as long as you were there.”
Chuuya’s fingers twitched.
⸻
He found Dazai an hour later — standing on the platform during a stop, letting the rain soak his shirt.
“You knew he’d say that,” Chuuya hissed.
Dazai didn’t look at him. “Did I?”
“You knew. You knew he’d mention the Sheep.”
“Didn’t stop you from bringing him in.”
Chuuya stepped closer. “You’re testing me.”
“Always,” Dazai murmured.
Lightning flashed behind them.
Chuuya clenched his fists. “He said you told him I was loyal to you.”
Dazai smiled faintly.
“Are you?”
Chuuya stared.
Dazai’s hair was wet. His tie was loose. His eyes were darker than the storm above them.
“You don’t get to ask that,” Chuuya whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t give a damn about loyalty. You just want proof you can break someone.”
Dazai leaned forward.
“I already did.”
Chuuya shoved him.
Dazai didn’t resist.
He stumbled back — and smiled.
“See?” he said. “I was right.”
⸻