Chapter Text
Sometimes, Dazai feels an indescribable emotion bubbling throughout his rib cage. It wasn't jittery like happiness, nor did it carry the shiver of fear or the pound of adrenaline. It settled over him like a cold blanket, slowly pulling him into the ground to relive his worst ideas.
He had never known what to call it, never had the parentage nor comparative observation to decipher it. That is until the fateful day he stood in Mori’s office, sharp papers shoved into his hands as brown eyes frantically flitted across pages, soon resting on a singular photo.
“Dazai-kun, would you like to explain to me what you are doing in that photo?” Mori’s words cut through the tense air like a knife, jolting the brunette’s eyes upwards as his mentor’s shadow crept over his figure.
Regret. That must be what this is called.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Chuuya had always been a hard worker. Even when bread was a new commodity, the idea of hard work had seemingly been branded on his cursed soul since birth. This being said, he can only take so much!
Mission after mission after mission, it seemed Mori was trying to kill him with work. Kouyou had to practically beg him to let Chuuya go home for the evening before heading off to France for yet another tedious week of bashing heads in. Plus, most of the work had been so damn below his station, the redhead wondered if Mori just wanted him out of Yokohama?!
Nonetheless, Chuuya persisted. Even if unreasonable, it was still somewhat manageable. For the time being he was doing fine.. That is until his mentor found him slumped and retching over her new potted plant.
“Chuuya, dear, come here for a moment.” Kouyou approached carefully, her voice softer than usual. Chuuya had just gotten back from his most recent mission in America. He had come across the most annoying ability user who thought it was funny to poison PM representatives at supposedly peaceful banquets. Needless to say, the banquet did not stay peaceful for long. All of that being said, the redhead looked to be in pretty rough shape.
Kouyou swept the short boy off the ground, being met with a concerningly little complaint. He was lighter than she remembered, pale and shivering ever so slightly. It wasn't long before he lay across her office couch, half unconscious and heaving with a fever.
“Ane-san.. Mori.. I need to check in.” The executive swept orange hair aside resting a warm towel on his forehead as she coaxed medicine and tea down his throat.
“I sent one of your subordinates ahead. You can go debrief with Mori-san in a few hours.” No more complaints were made as the teen drifted to sleep. Kouyou watches her mentee closely as his breath puffs in and out. He looks so small like this, wrapped in a mountain of blankets and wincing from invisible foes. He’s just a kid after all, though, the executive isn't elitist enough not to admit that she too forgot it sometimes.
The peace lasts for a whole 90 minutes until a ruckus is heard from down the hall. Chuuya stares, only to be shushed back to sleep as Kouyou slowly makes her way towards the hallway. Stepping out onto a bright burgundy rug, it didn't take long to observe the problem himself marching toward her.
“Mori-san, to what do I owe the pleasure?” If she didn't value her life and job the executive might have punched him there and then. One look at that smug smile was all it took to boil her blood.
“Kouyou-san, how lovely it is to see you!” Mori’s voice lifts through the hall, mocking sweet. “Do you happen to know where I can find our dear Chuuya-kun? He was due for a debrief over an hour ago.”
The red woman’s jaw tightens. This isn't going to end well. “I ordered him to rest, as he seems to have come down with something. I believe I sent someone ahead to-”
“Pardon my rudeness ‘Kouyou-sama’, but when did your orders start overriding my own?” Silence fills the hallway as violet eyes turn cold. She should have seen this coming. Mori had been in a strangely sour mood lately. Maybe if she had Chuuya do the debrief before resting, maybe if she had asked Dazai to cover for him? Mori had always had a soft spot for his mentee, yet, looking back on the past month Dazai had become scarily sparse. It could be due to his own missions or maybe even Chuuya’s absence but she hadn’t seen the boy in-
“I expect Chuuya-kun to be in my office in thirty minutes.” His coat sweeps the floor as Mori pivots back down the hall. “Make sure this doesn't happen again.”
Not willing to dignify the boss with a response, Kouyou turned back to her office gently pushing the door open. Chuuya, who she was hoping would sleep a little longer, stood in front of a mirror attempting to smooth the creases in his jacket. He didn't look much better than he did an hour ago, yet he seemed to be more mentally coherent.
“Does he need me?” Kouyou grimaces and reaches for her hand steamer as she approaches the teen. She holds the fabric gently as steam curls through each fiber.
“Unfortunately.. You have thirty minutes.”
Chuuya slowly nods, his shoulder deflating with exhaustion as his outfit is restored to a semi-put-together state. “Everything’s been so busy lately. Even Dazai’s been scarce. Or maybe I just keep missing him, it's honestly hard to imagine the bastard doing any work.” He huffs a short-lived giggle, his heterochromatic eyes snapping up with an expectant gaze. The question was hardly concealed. Where is he?
Kouyou had never gotten along with Dazai. She knew he was “just a child” and a “victim of his circumstance”, but she too had once been a child. There was something fundamentally wrong with Dazai. The way his smile never reached his eyes, or how easily lies rolled from his tongue. It wasn't human, it was dangerous.
As his mentor, she had tried to guide Chuuya away from the prodigy’s reach. Warning after warning yet they seemed to gravitate to one another like magnets. Eventually she just had to accept it as a lost cause. We can’t always control who our heart aches for.
“It’s possible. With all the work coming out I get the impression that Mori’s gearing up for something big. He’s probably having Dazai head it. Plus with the whole Musutafu incident, people have been reeling.”
“Musutafu? Is there something wrong with the barrier?” Since the appearance of quirks Yokohama’s government had made the decision to seal its borders from the exterior conflict. That way it would be easier to protect the quirkless civilians within the city confines while also guarding the secret of ability users. Due to the isolation, Yokohama soon grew apart from the outside in culture, technology, fashion, and basically everything else. Even if outsiders assumed it was a lawless nation, the majority of Yokohama was better for it.
“For a little while. There was an incident where some clowns got in and caused a ruckus. It was resolved but we’re still dealing with the aftermath.” Kouyou lowers the steamer, straightening the jacket across Chuuya’s body. “I can tell you more later, but for now you should head up.”
Looking at the clock Chuuya had about 15 minutes left, yet the ache in his leg told him that he’d appreciate the extra time. “Thanks Ane-san, I’ll call you once I'm done.” With that, he departs.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Head and heart pounding with ailment and exhaustion, Chuuya gingerly pushed open the doors to Mori’s office. Like clicking into autopilot he takes seven steps forward before falling to his bruised knees. “Boss, I'm here to report.”
“Rise.” Chuuya robotically reads the mission report he wrote of the plane, his mind travelling elsewhere. Honestly, he’d kill to go to sleep in his own apartment. He’d kill to even see the place for christ sake.. Though, Chuuya kills for a living so that doesn’t really have much weight to it..
The point is he’s tired and in need of his own shower, sheets, and room..
And mackerel.
.
Arahabaki had been screaming a lot lately. It was hard to concentrate, hold back, sleep. It seemed the only way he could really ignore the pain in his head was to focus on the pain in his body. But he was fine right? He’s the impenetrable Nakahara Chuuya, best martial artist and the arguably better half of Soukoku. He can handle anything..
“Chuuya-kun, are you listening?” Tired eyes flicker in recognition as he realizes Mori had been talking.
“Oh.. Sorry, I didn't catch that.” Mori sighs, motioning for the redhead to sit. On his desk rests a manilla folder, the corner marked with the letters UA . Another mission.. Looks like he isn’t going home for a while.
“As I was saying, I want to thank you for your diligence and hard work. Your loyalty to this organization is admirable and I can certainly sense a promotion in your future.” This caught Chuuya’s attention. It has been several months since Dazai was promoted to executive-ship, and to say he’s been rubbing it in would be an understatement.
“That being said, I'm sure you're wondering why we’ve been so swamped.. You have been running in and out for the past month so I doubt you’ve heard of it, but are you aware of the Musutafu incident?”
“Vaguely. Ane-san mentioned that some “heros” broke through the barrier.” Chuuya shifts in his chair, the seat cushion pushing into the prominent bruise on his side. Suppressing a wince, he straightens upwards in an attempt to look more put together. “Does my next mission have to do with Musutafu?”
A sly grin slithers across Mori’s face,”Indeed. This intrusion is a declaration of war whether the outsiders intended it to be or not. You, Chuuya-kun, will be our first counter attack.” The manilla folder slides across the counter. Chuuya understands he’s supposed to take it, yet part of him wishes he had never come. If he were to go home right now, honestly speaking, who would stop him? Nevermind.. He takes the folder opening to the cover-page.
“Everything you need to know is here. You have until tonight to review, memorize, and dispose of the documents. I trust you understand I want this done tonight.” Chuuya’s eyes widened as he skimmed the mission timeline. A year. A whole damn year!? Yet, it's not his place to complain. Exhausted and in immense pain, the mafia dog rose, gingerly bowing to his master.
“Yessir.”
“Good.” As Chuuya turns to leave he can't help but wonder if he's made some kind of mistake. Something feels wrong. He can't quite place his finger on it, but he's sure that he's missing something. Whatever, he was never one for chess. That was always Dazai’s thing..
god he missed Dazai.