Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dazai woke up. He wasn't expecting to, and to be very honest, he never was - waking up just meant that he hadn't died during the night, for better or worse. He blinked his eyes blearily against the darkness of the room. His mind began filling in what had happened the last time he was conscious – there had been explosions, and Chuuya had been in front of him, shouting something – his name probably, Chuuya was always dramatic like that. His face panicked, and Dazai thought that perhaps the explosion had hit him – he wasn’t entirely sure.

He wasn’t entirely sure of anything. He recalled that there was a dragon slinking its way through the sky. He hoped that Chuuya wouldn’t-

The last thing he saw were Chuuya’s bright eyes shining at him, a hand carefully pushing his hair back and then the mafioso was in the air, shattering large chunks of cement that had been cascading from the sky as buildings were wrecked.

And Dazai lost the fight with consciousness.

Checking his injury, he could feel the matted blood on his hair, but the cut didn’t seem too bad – though the bump was tender. It was something that always seemed worse than it was until the next morning – Dazai sighed. He wouldn’t be dying from this.

With that taken care of, he looked around the room now. It was only seven feet by seven feet – a small cell, if the iron bars on two of the walls had anything to do with it. He peered through the gloom at the other cell. His had a window positioned high up – far too high or him to reach, and far too small for him to fit through. Even by standing on the bed, he finger tips were shy by at least a foot.

So the window was out of whatever escape plan was being to hatch in the back of his mind. The other cell was completely dark – no matching window.

The front of the cell opened into a larger area with a shadowed staircase that he could just barely make out in the light of the stars. He tested the door – locked, and checked his clothing. All of his lock picks were gone – even the ones hidden on the underside of his belt buckle and the ones that had been stitched into the hem of his coat.

He sighed – whomever did this had clearly done their research. He would almost be proud of it, if it wasn’t such an inconvenience.

The hinges were tightly done as well, and there was nothing that he could use in the cell for leverage on trying to pop them open.

A small sound in the other cell caught his attention – while he had been looking around, he hadn’t given much thought to his… neighbor? Is that what people in the cells next door were called?

“Hello?” he called into it, fingers entwining in the bars between them.

Something shifted in the darkness, a shape that seemed too big and too small at the same time – Dazai blamed ocular illusions. Shadows had a way of doing whatever you didn’t want them to.

“You’re awake,” a voice whispered, dark and familiar but Dazai couldn’t quite place it. It was almost a sound like what one hears in a nightmare, but that didn’t make any logical sense so Dazai discarded it.

“I am!” Dazai’s face broke out into a smile. He could try to charm this individual, whoever they were, if he was going to get out – perhaps even use them.

“You are a cockroach,” the other sounded marveled, and there was a gravelly timber to the voice that had Dazai thinking of Chuuya – but Chuuya had never called him a cockroach. That was too easy. They had a plethora of names between them to go for cheap shots like cockroach.

“I am not,” Dazai replied indignantly. He gave his most winning chuckle. “Though I know some might call me that. How long have we been in here?”

The figure moved, and something tickled Dazai’s spine from what little he could see in the darkness. “Time means nothing to me,” the other replied airily. “I do not track it well.”

Dazai huffed a laugh, still trying for jovial charm – though he was already getting annoyed by the other. Thankfully, he was pretty sure it wasn’t Fyodor – that one couldn’t stand to be in a conversation this long without gloating at least once. Small miracles.

“Do you have a name?”

“I have many.”

Dazai’s eye was well and truly twitching at this. “What should I call you? Cell neighbor doesn’t seem polite.”

“Pick one, Dazai,” the other replied, with an emphasis on his name.

Dazai’s eyes immediately narrowed. At no point had he given away that information. “I wasn’t aware that you knew me. Have we met?”

“You and I have never spoken,” the other whispered darkly. There seemed to be a joke hidden in those words, but Dazai couldn’t find the punchline.

Dazai’s hands tightened on the bars between them. The shadow was infuriating, and why did their voice sound so familiar?

The other seemed to gravitate back to the opposite corner, clearly done with this conversation. Dazai returned to his bench-cot and lay down. He could only hope that the morning sun would be good enough to light up both cells, allowing him to figure out who the other was.

Dazai woke with the dawn – it was only a few hours away. The gray light permeated his cell, brightening the corners and the room before the staircase. From here, he could see there were several file cabinets against the walls, and a desk that looked disordered, with stacks of papers and books and a small laptop in the middle, lid closed. Along one section of wall were large shelves that held all sorts of scientific equipment – he could recognize most of them from when he was younger, and would spend his afternoons in Mori’s doctor’s office. The final piece of equipment was a large chair with restraints.

He wasn’t liking the picture that was being placed before him.

He turned to the other cell, and though it was still dark, it was easier to see. There was a figure curled up on the bench, facing the wall, but Dazai could see the copper locks even in the gray light, and the small body that languished easily no matter where they were.

Dazai would recognize his partner anywhere.

“Chuuya?” he burst out without even realizing it, eyes widening. How dare that chibi lie to him the night before?

Whether he was planning on getting up, or he could feel Dazai’s murderous glare on his back, the smaller man began to shift, turning around to look at Dazai.

Dazai’s blood ran cold.

Chuuya had crimson scars so dark they where nearly black across his face, on his hands, and probably everywhere else, the ends dipping beneath his clothes. His eyes were a shimmering red in a pool of darkness. The smile that he gave Dazai was sinister in nature, with none of the life and emotions that Dazai had become accustomed to from the other.

“Chuuya, what the fuck,” he growled, unable to stop himself.

The smile disappeared and a scowl clouded the other’s face. “I hate that name,” they said. “I always have. So… simple. So unimaginative.” They shrugged. “But I suppose it was the best he could do. How disappointing.”

Dazai’s mind was beginning to see the picture, but he wasn’t liking anything that he saw and he could only hope that he was wrong, that this was some hallucination. Mushrooms. Maybe he had the mountain mushrooms again.

“Hello, Dazai. I believe this is the first time that we’ve met. You have always called me Arahabaki.” they sneered. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but I don’t want to.”

“Arahabaki?” Dazai echoed, disbelievingly. “Chuuya, this joke sucks.”

“Chuuya is dead,” the other explained, a dark smile twisting their lips as they drew closer. “His heart stopped in that last fight where he used Corruption.” Dazai felt his own heart stutter to a stop at this noise, and his breath caught in his lungs. The creature continued, his voice a singsong, “and you weren’t there to save him.”

Dazai smashed himself against the bars, reaching as far as he could into the other cell, swiping with his hand. If he could just nullify this, they would be okay. If he could just get Chuuya back, this morning wouldn’t have to exist except as a strange memory.

Arahabaki deftly stepped out of his reach. “Oh, Dazai, did you want a corpse as your neighbor instead?”

Dazai let his arms fall, bracing on the center bar. “What the fuck?” He couldn’t take his eyes off the other, watching them as they swayed to a tune in their own head – Chuuya looked so distorted like this, a marionette to strings that couldn’t even be cut.

Arahabaki turned to him a moment later, arms poised as though in a dance. “You look despondent, Dazai,” they said, dark eyes flashing merrily. “In all the years I’ve been forced to watch you, I never thought you would care if he died. Or is it guilt? Because he died saving you.”

Dazai’s fists were clenched at his sides, and he was trying to figure out anything – perhaps if he kept Arahabaki talking, then an opportunity would present itself. “Why haven’t you broken out of this place? What keeps you here?”

A dark laugh. “For one, I wanted to see the look on your face,” the other explained. “It is so delicious the minute that hope dies. Don’t you think, Demon Prodigy?” Their chuckling turned sour. “I will break out… soon. Once I have remembered what it is like to have a body. It has been so long. Do you think it feels pain? I do not remember pain.” Before Dazai could say anything, Arahabaki grabbed two fingers from their left hand and snapped them, the noise echoing in the dark chamber. They looked unimpressed at it. “No… I do not feel pain. Shame. I could have fun with that.”

Dazai looked at the bruises bubbling under the skin, the crooked set of the fingers and backed away. He had no control over this conversation, and if he wanted to get Chuuya back as he should be, he needed to play it smart. He looked around the room again, ignoring Arahabaki’s chuckling as the other continued spinning around their cell.

Where were their captors? Was this part of a test? He sat cross-legged on the ground, staring at the stairwell. He had patience, he would just need them to show up.

It was perhaps an hour later, and Arahabaki had been saying all sorts of things that crawled under Dazai’s skin. He knew that their barbs were just to see how the brunette would react, but some of the things he alluded to didn’t sit well within him. It hadn’t mattered that he and Chuuya had already had long conversations about these things – they had to in order to become… whatever they were. It was still so new, budding in between them, not yet large enough to be named. But it was there.

“He thought you were dead. Did you know that? You left him all alone and he thought you had finally killed yourself. Imagine his surprise when the first thing you do after seeing him is belittle him. Such a sad night. So much wine and self-hatred. It was delighful.”

Just ignore them, Dazai thought to himself, holding his shoulders stiffly as he stared out the front of the cell. He would prefer thumbscrews to this. He knew about this. A long night with three bottles of wine and the two finally having an honest conversation.

“Do you know how he woke up? His bones only held together by gravity after Corruption – a silly name, have I mentioned? – destroyed him. All alone in a field of grass, where just anyone could come by. It took so long for him to heal after that day – the first time we could truly sing in years, and you… well it’s no surprise you didn’t care.” A giggle. “I don’t think you ever cared, did you?”

Just ignore them, Dazai’s eye was twitching now, as the other kept trying to bait him with words. He couldn’t tell which was truth and which were lies, but he had known Chuuya, had known Chuuya’s deepest fears and knew that he hated the idea of dying out of control, hated the idea of being out of control. It was one of the reasons Dazai loved to peck at him like a bored crow – he wanted to watch Chuuya unfurl.

“Ah, I want to fight another dragon – I was having such a good time of it. Pity he only looked for you in that whole… fog incident. Though last night’s fight was beautiful. Especially the moment he waited for you.” Arahabaki’s grin was manic through the bars of the cage, and they cackled. “Until the last moment, he was so sure you would arrive, just in time to hold his hand and everything would be okay.” Their eyes were alight with glee. “He died alone, and a monster, and now I’m here. Wouldn’t you say that’s poetic?”

Dazai grit his teeth so hard, he was sure that one of his molars had cracked. How could he have failed so easily the night before? The fight where Chuuya needed him – because how else would any of them take on another dragon – and Dazai hadn’t been there.

He was on his feet in an instance, once again trying to take Arahabaki by surprise. They just cackled and straightened their jacket. Dazai wondered if this is what insanity was – going against the demon of his partner?

The door at the top of the stairs swung open with a long creak and thump as it hit the wall. Dazai’s attention immediately turned to focus on the three men walking down the steps. The one in front was older, with blond hair brushing his shoulders and a trim goatee to match. He was dressed in simple, but well made clothes – a brown vest, a cream shirt, and matching trousers. A pair of glasses hung around his neck on a chain. He walked like someone accustomed to commanding a room by just appearing in it.

Dazai forcefully reminded himself that he needed to calm down. The other two were similarly dressed – one tall, thin, with dark skin and a cloudy puff of hair that was tinged with gray, and the other looked absent-minded, with thick glasses and a mop of brown hair that hung into his eyes.

“Good morning,” the leader said in heavily accented Japanese. French, Dazai thought within seconds. “My name is Victor Hugo, these are my associates, Messieurs  Dumas and de Saint-Exupéry. Welcome.”

“To what?” Dazai couldn’t help but ask.

Arahabaki’s eyes were bright as they backed away from the three, anger spitting in their depths.

Interesting, Dazai thought. So Arahabaki knew these men, and wasn’t a fan.

Not that Dazai would be either, if being caged was their introduction.

“That is a very good question,” Hugo stated, clasping his hands behind him. “Yesterday, or, rather two days ago at this point, you interfered in a very important experiment that we were hosting.”

“Experiment?” Dazai asked easily, grinning in such a way that could be described as feral. “Is that why there was a dragon above Suribachi City?”

Hugo laughed. “Yes, we apologize for any concern, but we had the matter completely under control.”

Dazai looked incredulous. “You had a forty-foot dragon under control.”

“Oui! We had sent it to look for someone in particular, and it worked.”

Dazai couldn’t help but noticed that Arahabaki was now crouching on the cot, almost like a panther. Their crimson eyes were large and lamp-like, unblinking as they looked at the three. They looked like a beast on the hunt, perfectly still, waiting for that moment to pounce.

“You were looking for Arahabaki?” Dazai ventured to guess.

Hugo nodded excitedly. “We weren’t sure how to find him, but according to our intelligence, he makes his appearance against large beasts, so we employed an Ability User to act as bait, and look.” He gestured to the redhead. “He is here.” He turned his smile to Arahabaki. “We have been looking for you for years, you understand. Even sent two of our best to find you.” At this, his cheerful demeanor dropped. “I have heard that they are dead.”

Dazai sighed. “This is all very well and good – but what am I here for?”

“Insurance,” the Black man said softly, a small smile in the corner of his mouth. “We heard that he could be unruly.”

Arahabaki hissed, fingers clawing into the metal frame. The look on their face was murderous. For the first time since Dazai had woken up, they weren’t smiling.

Dazai wondered how he could use this.

“Ah yes,” Dazai said aloud. “Many have tried to control them – and many have died because of it, from what I understand.”

“Yes,” Hugo agreed. “That is what I’ve reviewed.”

Dazai nodded along with this. Then he gave Hugo a cunning grin of his own. “Too bad I don’t want to cooperate,” he said, folding his arms behind head as he let a bored expression cross his face.

Hugo looked absolutely floored at this. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, flabbergasted.

Dazai laughed, loudly and without humor. He jerked a thumb in Arahabaki’s direction. “According to that one, my partner is dead.” His eyes flashed and a manic smile graced his face. “Because of you. You killed Chuuya.” He drew closer to the bars, getting within inches of the cold iron. His voice dropped low, menacingly as he said darkly, “So why the fuck would I help you?”

Hugo’s eyes were blown wide, and it took him a moment to recover himself, faced with Dazai as he had been, before the Armed Detective Agency, before even Chuuya – this was the demon of Port Mafia. “I see,” he said. “Perhaps we should see how far this bluster goes.”

He stepped out of the way and nodded to Dumas. The man opened the door. Before Dazai could do anything, Dumas had his arms twisted and wrapped in a hold that Dazai was struggling to get out of. He shifted, throwing his weight around, but he realized shortly he was going nowhere. Briefly, he looked up at Arahabaki.

The demon was looking at him, head cocked to the side like a confused animal. Dazai thought he saw a flash of blue in those crimson depths, and something in him seized at that moment, which allowed Dumas to manhandle him across the room to the chair. He was forced into it by Dumas, while de Saint-Exupéry strapped him down at the wrists, ankles, and across his chest. Dumas had both hands on Dazai’s face, forcing him to look at the ceiling. Dazai grimaced as he struggled against the bonds.

“I had hoped you would be more… how is the word? Open minded? Believing? No, cooperative. That’s the word. But if you insist on siding with that beast, then we shall just have to take what we need by force.”

Dazai grimaced and had the urge to bite Dumas as he was held in place. He couldn’t see what was happening, as de Saint-Exupéry placed a strap around his forehead, and another around his neck. Finally, Dumas let go, but Dazai found he could not move his head.

Well, this was inconvenient.

He struggled against the bonds, trying to twist his fingers to where he could get to the clasps.

“If you continue to do that, I will be forced to have Monsieur Dumas break your fingers. I would not want that.”

Dazai hated how he stilled at that. He needed those if he was going to get both him and Chuuya out of this.

He felt a prick in his arm, and hissed. There was another in his hand.

“Just be patient,” Hugo said, leaning over. “We are only extracting blood. We need to figure out what makes your Ability work. If it is skin cells, or if it something more. Brain waves perhaps? Abilities are very funny things. Even though users have existed for decades, there is still so little we know of them.”

Dazai could have done without the monologuing, if he was being honest. There was a rattling nearby, and Dazai wished he could see. de Saint-Exupéry jumped, and accidentally stabbed Dazai again with the needle in his arm.

Dazai winced.

“Calm yourself,” Hugo was saying, though it didn’t seem like he was talking to Dazai or de Saint-Exupéry.

There was a deranged cackling from the other side of the room. Ah, Dazai thought, Arahabaki was tired of being ignored. What a vain god. Though he supposed that was the cornerstone of being a god.

“Stop that at once!” Hugo insisted, leaving Dazai’s side to go and deal with Arahabaki. There was a bzzt of electricity and Dazai winced.

Chuuya hated any electric weapons. They had been a favorite of the lab back in the…

He strained his ears.

Arahabaki was hissing, “Get that away from us.”

And Dazai felt a plan form in his mind.

It felt like hours later, but was probably only about thirty minutes when Dumas began to carefully extract the equipment from Dazai’s hand and elbow. He felt weak, nauseous. Perhaps they had taken too much blood. He kept his mind focused though – even though the woozy, lightheaded feeling. He could use this.

He allowed Dumas to help him to his feet, and then he listed sideways, smashing into the medical instruments, sending the tray flying, and Dazai himself tumbling to the ground.

Dumas cursed and grabbed him by the elbow, hoisting him to his feet. Dazai let out a hiss of pain as that large hand clamped around where the needle had been.

He used the chaos, leaning heavily on Dumas as the Frenchman deposited him back in the cell.

De Saint-Exupéry cursed as he began to clean up the mess Dazai had made. Dazai lay against the cool stone, one eye on them as he tried not to chuckle his triumph. It had been too easy, but he would take that.

There was a scalpel hidden up his sleeve, and had managed to grab several small bits of wire off one of the shelves as well.

Dazai waited until he knew the three Frenchmen were gone, and then he waited good deal longer. He only had one shot at this, and he wasn’t sure if it would even work. If Arahabaki was telling the truth, he was about to kill Chuuya, but he had to hope. And he had a promise to keep.

“You have to promise me, no matter what – if I lose myself to them… you kill me, Dazai. You fucking slit my throat because I don’t want to be a puppet forever.”

“Chuuya, I don’t-”

“I don’t want to be a monster.”

“Chuuya-”

“There is no one else I would trust with this.”

Dazai felt the weight of the promise from nearly seven years prior weighing on his shoulders. He had agreed, reluctantly, because he thought he would always be there to stop it before it got past the point of no return. Faced with his failure, he could at least try to make this right.

The sun was setting outside the small window, and Dazai had waited long enough. He sat up – having not moved from where Dumas had placed him. He had to be quick. There were cameras somewhere in the room, so he had to get himself, and Arahabaki out – and then he would deal with the repercussions of that.

“You awake?” he asked, not looking at the other cell.

“I am,” they replied.

Dazai nodded. He counted to five and launched himself at the door. It didn’t take him long to pick the lock with his new tools.

“You are devious, demon,” Arahabaki commented, and Dazai wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or proud at the words.

He chose neither. Standing in front of the other cell, he said, “If I let you out, what’s your next step?”

Arahabaki chuckled, waving their hand. “I am who I am, Dazai, and I will destroy all in my path.”

Dazai grimaced. He honestly had hoped for any other outcome, but here they were.

Crimson eyes met his. “Are you thinking of leaving me behind?”

He was. He hated to admit it, but he was.

He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t allow Hugo and his associates to figure out a way to tame Arahabaki. So far the only one who had been able to do that was Chuuya, and Chuuya was…

Well, Dazai would deal with that later. “We’ll deal with that after getting out,” he said in what he hoped was a hopeful voice. It was mostly bravado.

Arahabaki’s eyebrows rose and they laughed. “You plan on stopping me the minute we are out of this facility.”

Dazai was. It was the simplest plan. “You got a better idea?” he asked.

The redhead thought about it – and were his scars growing? Dazai hadn’t had a moment to truly pay attention, but it felt like there were more than there were before.

He was running out of time. He had no idea what would happen if Arahabaki regained control over his powers.

Probably the end of the world, if he was going to be honest.

He quickly picked the lock and allowed the door to swing open. Arahabaki stayed where they were. “Well,” the other said. “If nothing else, this should be fun.”

Dazai heaved a sigh. This was such a bad idea. But he would always play the hand he was dealt, and today that included Arahabaki.

A plan formed in his head – it wasn’t a good one, but he had learned recently that he had to rely on others, even if there was no communication between them.

The hallway behind the door at the top of the stair was quiet. Dazai wrinkled his nose at the moldy smell of it, and allowed Arahabaki to lead. He wanted to keep his eye on them as much as possible – it was hard to trust a supposedly divine being. Especially one who just wanted to burn everything down.

They encountered de Saint-Exupéry first. The man looked at them in surprise and brandished a taser at Arahabaki. The redhead jumped back, hissing and spitting at the taser like a stray cat in an alley fight. Dazai zipped forward, grabbing the taser, yanking it from de Saint-Exupéry’s hand and stabbed his throat with the scalpel in his other. Blood spurted out, catching Dazai across the face. He grimaced.

He hated the feeling of blood on his face.

De Saint-Exupéry’s eyes were wide as they stared at Dazai, his hands clinging to the detective’s beige coat as he sank down.

“You going to get rid of that?” Arahabaki asked, eyes never leaving the taser.

Dazai thought about it. “I don’t think I will,” he proclaimed and pocketed it.

The redhead gave him a sinister grin. “Don’t be too mean, Dazai,” he growled, though it almost sounded like a purr. “Or I might want to keep you around. Sadly, I will also take great joy in killing you.”

Dazai shook his hand. He grabbed the limp arm of de Saint-Exupéry to wipe off his face on the dead man’s sleeve. “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t want me to, of course,” the other crowed, and shifted around Dazai, moving up the corridor. “It’s pathetic.”

Dazai took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment. He hated hearing about Chuuya from Arahabaki, and unfortunately, the other seemed to realize this, as he kept bringing up his dog. The problem with having an enemy that could read him well.

“Are you going to assist?” Dazai asked as he heaved open a door at the end of the corridor – it was heavy, reinforced. He was working on picking the lock.

There was a dark chuckle from the other – and Dazai hated that laugh. He’d rip out Arahabaki’s voicebox, if it didn’t mean harming Chuuya as well. “No, I like to watch you work,” they told him simply. “I can see the gears rolling in your head, Dazai. He isn’t here. You’re going to have to kill us. And wouldn’t that just be… sweet.”

The thought caused something to roil in Dazai’s stomach, and he wasn’t sure what was worse – that Arahabaki said it, or that he could be right.

Dumas was surprisingly easy to deal with. Dazai managed to sneak up behind him in the security room and slit his throat.

Served him right.

He checked all of the monitors, flipping through them quickly. Hugo was nowhere to be seen. He cursed.

It didn’t take more the a moment for Dazai to set the taser to the console in the security office. He grinned as he watched the sparks dance across the top, parts of the console exploding.

Good. He needed it to be big.

Arahabaki waited outside, wrinkling their nose at what Dazai was doing.

“Do you know how much he dislikes electricity?” they asked.

And Dazai did. Dazai knew how N had used that as a way to contain and control young Chuuya and Arahabaki, to the point that Chuuya stilled for a brief moment if someone brandished a taser or electric rod at him. It was an expression only a few had seen – and if any had ever commented on it, Dazai made sure they got a bullet to the brain.

No one needed to know Chuuya’s fears. Not when Dazai could protect him.

He’d have to deal with Hugo later, as the consoles began to melt from the heat of the explosions.

“Exit’s this way,” he said instead.

“I can’t wait,” they replied.

Getting out had been easy, as Dazai pushed open the door to a nondescript warehouse in the Port district. There were explosions and fire coming from within – apparently what he had started in the security room had grown exponentially. He didn't wait, he had to make the first move, before the other had a chance to run. 

Dazai swooped in, brandishing the scalpel. He was so close, but Arahabaki jumped backwards and the scalpel barely nicked his skin.

“Tut, tut,” they said, though their crimson eyes were alight. “So rude.”

Dazai grunted as he moved forward again. He jumped forward, and Arahabaki snaked to the side, Dazai twisted as he passed and made to grab the other. The taser was back in his pocket, he’d use it, but he would wait until there was no other option.

The redhead jumped out of the way.

There was a crimson glow starting to form around him. Dazai could feel his time ending. He had to act now, and fast, and he needed to distract Arahabaki. He could hear the vehicles approaching – he had made this big enough that he hoped that everything would fall into place.

This only worked if she was here.

“Sorry, Arahabaki,” Dazai told him in a singsong voice. “But I’ve a promise to keep.”

The crimson-eyed god turned to him.

“Dazai, get down!” screamed Kunikida and Dazai hit the deck, the ricochet of gunfire above him, all aimed at Arahabaki.

With a leap that most men could not make, Arahabaki dodged, laughing the entire way. “Oh,” he breathed. “This is what to live for.”

Kunikida was jumped out of a car – he had apparently been shooting at Arahabaki through the window, and was now writing furiously in his notebook. Dazai watched as Arahabaki turned to the new fight and cackled madly. A stun grenade appeared in the blond’s hand, and he tossed it at Arahabaki, but they batted it away, and it cracked against the warehouse.

The blond’s eyes widened behind his glasses and Dazai wondered if he had ever seen Chuuya like this before. The only time he might have prior to all of this would be the Shibusawa incident, and he was probably distracted by not getting killed.

Dazai had a feeling he’d be explaining a great number of things the minute this was all over. He just had to make sure it ended.

Arahabaki rushed at Kunikida, faster than sound, though a bit off kilter. They were definitely getting control of Chuuya’s body.

Dazai swore, and he may have shouted Kunikida’s name, he wasn’t sure, but he was stumbling after the red blur as fast as he could.

If Kunikida could just keep him distracted, then maybe they would have a chance.

Dazai just needed that one chance.

Kunikida ducked under the first punch thrown, though his glasses were cracked by the blast of air the force left before. He grabbed Arahabaki’s arm, looking to flip them as he had done to so many enemies, but Arahabaki just laughed and danced higher into the air, forcing Kunikida to drop down or be sailing above the rooftop.

Atsushi was a blur of blue and stripes as he ran off the roof of the burning building, tackling Arahabaki.

Dazai wasn’t sure who else was here, but he had to get close.

The fight above them was attracting more spectators. Members of the Mafia who had been milling about were watching now, from a safe distance – let it not be said that the grunts had preservation.

“Dazai,” a voice by his ear growled. “What the fuck?”

Dazai turned to see Akutagawa. “Ah, you got called in as well?” he breathed, as he turned his attention back to the fight.

Akutagawa coughed lightly into his hand and nodded. His eyes widened when he saw what was happening. “Is that-?”

“Treat them as an enemy, Akutagawa,” Dazai warned swiftly. “That isn’t Chuuya.”

And he wasn’t surprised that Akutagawa’s face paled. He was one of the few that knew of Chuuya’s Ability – all of it. It was a tightly kept secret. Rashoman launched him up into the fray, and for a brief second, Dazai felt pride burning in him as Atsushi made room in the fight for Akutagawa.

“Ah, the kids are gonna make me cry, Chuuya,” he breathed as he watched the battle. He needed an opening – he needed to just…

It took far longer than he thought, and he wasn’t surprised to see the telltale signs of blood and broken bones as Arahabaki worked to gain full control over their body. Tainted Sorrow had one the biggest drawbacks of any Ability – but Dazai had no time to contemplate that right now.

He moved forward. There was his opening. Atsushi, fist wrapped in Rashoman, smashed Arahabaki down to the ground.

Kunikida was by his side in a second, grabbing Dazai’s arm and swinging him around, giving him the needed boost to fly towards his…

“Rest now,” he whispered, his fingers clasping around Chuuya’s wrist.

The smaller body froze instantly, a shudder rushing through it, as though it were fighting itself.

Arahabaki gave him one last sinister grin before fading – the scars finally beginning to recede, so much slowly than they ever had before. Chuuya’s bright blue eyes were unfocused as he collapsed, and Dazai held his hand. He didn’t have to scream for Yosano.

She was already there.

Dazai didn’t want to let go, but Chuuya wasn’t breathing and his body was so messed up, and Dazai wondered if it was over.

He wondered if it was all over.

Kunikida was by his side, dragging him off Chuuya. Dazai though he may have yelled, may have fought, but his focus was on nothing but the small, battered redhead, whose eyes were not open and Dazai couldn’t see his chest move.

Watching Yosano work was always something Dazai enjoyed – seeing bones and skin mend themselves completely, to leave behind not a scar or a blemish. He wondered how his life could have been different if he had known Yosano when she was with Mori. Probably a blight on both their memories, if he was being honest, but he thought that maybe, they would have understood each other – the one who wished for death and the one who would never fear it.

He sank to his knees, and Kunikida’s grip was painful on his shoulder, but he knew why. If Kunikida let go, Dazai would be back over there and then there would be no hope.

Yosano wiped sweat away from her forehead as she began compressions on Chuuya’s chest. Butterflies – blue and gold and magnificent – swarmed around them, almost as though drawn to the dead.

Wasn’t there an old fable about that?

Oh, Dazai thought he was going into shock.

He felt something at his back, and he turned his head – Atsushi and Akutagawa were standing at the ready, on guard.

He really was proud of these kids.

Shit, he was getting maudlin.

Yosano looked up at him and gave him a smile. “Come on,” she told him, and Kunikida’s vice grip loosened.

Dazai was stumbling over to Chuuya. He pretty sure he had crawled at least part of the way, but nothing mattered than getting over there.

Chuuya’s eyes were open, bright blue, and his skin had a healthy sheen to it. There were faint trails of Arahabaki’s scars that looked permanent, red like burns, snaking over Chuuya’s skin. But it was Chuuya that was looking at him.

Dazai wasn’t sure what to say first, but blurted out, without meaning to, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed and he sat up, punching at Dazai. “Ha?”

Dazai caught his wrist easily and kissed his knuckles. Chuuya’s face flushed.

Yosano cackled. “On that queue, you two talk, we’ll be by the car,” she told them. Dazai could hear her ushering Kunikida, Atsushi and Akutagawa away. Kunikida seemed to be arguing, and then yelping in pain. Yosano must have used her nails.

“Do you know what happened?” Dazai’s voice was strangled as Chuuya moved to a more comfortable position.

“I… there was a dragon and… you were hurt.” His voice was quiet as he continued. “I thought you were dead. I lost control.”

“You have no idea,” Dazai growled. Now that Chuuya was okay, Dazai felt the worry and the panic from the past twenty-four hours settle around him. He had pushed them back for too long, and his voice caught in his throat as he tried to get the words out.

But how do you tell Chuuya that his worst fear had come true? All because Dazai had made a mistake.

A warm hand was holding his cheek, the thumb stroking his face. It felt so nice, and Dazai couldn’t breathe, and all of his emotions were beginning to spill out.

Chuuya was pulling Dazai to his feet, walking them away from the Armed Detective Agency (and Akutagawa). “Come on, mackerel,” he whispered, leading Dazai around the corner where they could have some privacy.

Dazai followed listlessly. How was he going to explain to Chuuya what had happened?

He wasn’t sure when he started talking, but he was babbling out the whole story, tripping over bits and pieces as he tried to explain to Chuuya everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours.

“Ah, so it was all a trap,” Chuuya mused. He looked far too calm, next to Dazai’s panic. “And I fell for it.”

Dazai nodded miserably. He hadn’t seen it – no one had. There was no information prior to the attack that anything was going to happen.

“You should have slit my throat,” the redhead told him as they settled against the side of the building, still holding his hand. “Would have made your job much easier.”

“Chuuya needs to stop asking me to kill him,” Dazai’s voice was grave when he said that. “I’m not going to do it.”

Chuuya’s brilliant blue eyes looked up at him, expectantly. “Not even to save the city?”

Dazai snorted, looking up between the large warehouses at the sky. “What good is a city next to you?” he wondered, almost as if he had never realized it before.

Chuuya’s cheeks pinked, and he gave Dazai’s hand a comforting squeeze.

He stepped closer, dropping his head onto Dazai’s shoulder as the leaned against the wall. Dazai smelled the sweat and damp of the cell, the faint tease of strawberry shampoo, and something else that was wholly Chuuya and fully realized that they had survived. He lay his head on Chuuya’s and just… breathed.