Chapter Text
There was a blue cloud of fog encasing Dazai, so thick that there wasn’t a single hope of seeing through it.
It’s safe to say that the ability user has already escaped, but backup arrives anyways. Dazai doesn’t usually ask for help from the Port Mafia– in fact, he wouldn’t do it at all if it was his choice– but unfortunately, the Black Lizard is the closest help he can get.
The fog eventually clears, and Dazai hears the distant yelling of Akutagawa and Tachihara.
“Over here.” Dazai calls out, coughing through the fog that was previously filling his lungs. He feels strange, and knowing what the man’s ability was, it’s probably impossible to cancel this out with No Longer Human.
“Hey! Are you okay?” Tachihara looks concerned while he says this, but Akutagawa looks like he's borderline panicking whilst holding that awkwardly-stoic demeanor of his. Obviously, he must look rough.
“Look, from the info I’ve been able to get, I won’t be able to cancel the ability.” Akutagawa’s eyes widen at this, completely surprised that there exists an ability that can override No Longer Human.
“The man’s ability was some kind of ability allowing him to master alchemy. I was questioning him when he set off a trap I thought I’d been well prepared for…” Dazai wonders how the man was able to pull off such a stunt without him noticing at all.
“We’re bringing you back to headquarters.” Akutagawa, to his credit, says this with a look of determination. But perhaps the look of pure fear overtaking it might have undermined that determination.
“...You’re kidding, right?” Dazai, despite his oh-so-cool demeanor, wants nothing less than to be subjected to the cold walls of hell again.
“I’m afraid not. We don’t know what you’re currently being affected by, and the boss has given us direct orders to return with you.” Dazai needs to find a way to gently extract himself from this less-than-stellar situation. Perhaps suggest a chaperone back to the agency? Akutagawa would jump headfirst at the opportunity to interact with Atsushi. Yes, that’s what he’ll do– offer to walk back to the agency with a member of the PM, everyone will know he is just fine and not dead, and then he sleeps in his own bed instead of a cold, hard, hospital bed.
“I’d rather die, thanks.” Oh, okay. Great. That was not at all what he’d planned to say. Even Tachihara manages to be surprised at this point. Dazai hasn’t been this vocal about his distaste for something since… Well, since he was an executive.
“Alright, Dazai. Get up, and we’ll get this all sorted out back at headquarters.”
Dazai sighs, deciding that if anyone would know what he’s afflicted with, it unfortunately would be Mori. “If I absolutely must.”
Dazai does indeed get up, and he begrudgingly follows the two back to headquarters.
On the walk there, Dazai considers what could have happened. The ability user was certainly odd– he hasn’t witnessed an ability that directly affects the intelligence of the holder. This case is being made especially complicated, considering the fact that Dazai suspects he’s under the influence of a mind-altering substance. If this man really is a master at his craft, then there’s no telling what it could possibly be, other than traditional trial and error. Dazai thinks back on what happened at the warehouse, how he wasn’t quite able to put on the front that is usually in place.
It’s worth considering that the lies he feeds himself are actively wearing down. Dazai can feel a familiar depressive state coming back; he can feel the life leaving his eyes, mania taking its place. Typically, Dazai is able to just keep telling himself that everything is fine. He is able to dissociate so heavily that there is rarely a trace of his past struggles, and when he has his moments, he’s alone. Yet here he is, feeling like he’s 16 again, walking into the Port Mafia Headquarters with a mission report.
The elevator he apparently entered at some point stops at the top floor, opening and allowing the three to step out. Mori immediately pins that horrid smile on Dazai, and the brunette man doesn’t even attempt to return it.
This was what really gave away his situation to Mori.
“Ah, I see.” The Boss– Mori. Mori. Mori frowns, turning around and considering his options for a moment. “Tachihara, Akutagawa. You’re dismissed.”
Confused but obedient, the two mafiosos exit quietly and in a skittish fashion, leaving just Mori and his former apprentice. Just before turning to leave, though, Akutagawa hands a vial of blue liquid to Dazai. He supposes that if he taught the mafioso anything, it was a thorough investigation. He’ll have to send Akutagawa a fruit basket– nevermind. The thought gives him chills.
“Please, sit.” Mori has one of the guards by the door bring a chair, ushering Dazai to take a seat. He does, but he stays on the same guard as before.
“Now. Dazai, why don’t you tell me about your situation?”
“I’d prefer ripping your entrails out of your feeble little body, they’d make fine decorations for my apartment.” Dazai startles himself with that one, young Dazai wouldn’t have even gone that far. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, images of his soft and warm bed drifting across his eyelids. He just wants to go home.
“So, a truth telling ability, then? That’s quite the predicament, I will say. Especially for someone like you.”
Yes, while Dazai has already assumed that was the effect of the potion, it was a bit harsh hearing it out loud. It will always be harsh, hearing that your worst nightmare has truly come to life.
“Yes, well, there’s not much I can do about it. It’s not an ability, rather the user had a knack for alchemy. He managed to shoot off a few traps at me before I could dodge, and here I am.” Dazai hands the blue vial off to Mori for examination.
“Ah yes, a master indeed. This is unidentifiable, even from the trained eyes of a doctor.”
Dazai could predict what he was going to say next, and he was particularly angry about it. His predictions really were never wrong, much to his dismay in the current moment.
“In any case, you’ll be staying with the Port Mafia until further notice.” Mori cuts his eyes to Dazai, a smirk evident in their sharp quality.
“Now why would I ever agree to that?” He really, really wouldn’t under most circumstances. And unfortunately, in this specific event, he will have to.
“Well, we don’t want our secrets plain for the world to see, do we? I’m well aware that you’ve kept the Port Mafia’s confidential information under your belt for all these years, and I’m surely not going to risk that work being ruined. I’m sure you can understand.” Dazai meets the abhorrent doctor’s eyes, reaching an equal understanding that if their information is exposed, Dazai would no longer have a job with the good guys.
“Of course I understand, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”
“No one said you have to be happy about it. But it is still a requirement for this type of situation. Now, Dazai, may I ask you a simple question?”
“Alright, shoot.” The brunette knew where this was going, and while it isn’t ideal, he quite frankly can’t wait to let Mori have an unrestricted piece of his mind. He leans back in his chair, waiting for the desperate Mafia Boss to once again offer him a job.
“Do you have any desire whatsoever to rejoin the Port Mafia? The offer still stands.”
“I will live a long, miserable life before I do so. I think you are a revolting excuse for a man, and a far-fetched sham of a human. I would rather watch you bleed dry hung from your own selfish enterprise. Is that clear enough, Mori?”
“I will respect your wishes, of course. But in that case, we must have someone looking after you if you do not wish to stay in our headquarters.” Ah, yes. The ulterior motive. He will be babysitting Elise for a week. Mori picks up his office line, tapping in three numbers and letting it ring. Dazai hears it pick up from his seat, and waits for the tinny, annoying voice of his former arch-nemesis to blast through the speakers.
“Kouyou. Can you please get a hold of Chuuya for me? Tell him I have an urgent assignment for him.”
Dazai froze.
“You’re fucking joking.”
“I’m really not.” Mori somehow spreads his grin wider, revealing his teeth in a manic expression of nothing other than pure contempt. He turns his attention back to the phone, professionally and insincerely thanking the executive on the line before hanging up.
Truth spells are one thing. He could stay in headquarters– he could avoid everyone here for as long as it takes to find the culprit or the cure. He would suffer, but he could do it. Chuuya, however, is a different story. The brunette couldn’t ignore Chuuya if he tried.
And he’s got quite the log of secrets that he isn’t ready to tell Chuuya.
Kouyou steps into the room, a frankly devious smile plastered on her face, as if she was well prepared for this. Chuuya takes one look at Dazai before directing a flat, apprehensive look toward both Kouyou and the Boss.
“You’re putting me on another mission with the shitty mackerel? I thought that era was well and over with.” His voice reeks of contempt, but his body language speaks of a man who has learned to hide his reactions in favor of loyalty. Unfortunately, Dazai finds it admirable in his truthful state.
“Yes, well, it just so happens that Osamu here has found himself in a rather dire situation. For himself, and for us.” Dazai cringes at the use of his first name in an ex-coworker’s mouth. Chuuya directs a questioning look towards the brunette, and Dazai levels him with a look that he knows the redhead recognized immediately.
“What happened?”
“Well, to put it simply, Dazai has been exposed to a truth serum that cannot be canceled by his own ability. Therefore, we have to put him under the care of a trusted associate to both him and our organization.” Kouyou attempts to hide an obvious smile during her explanation. Dazai wants to strangle her, but he knows he’d be shot in fifty different ways before he could move a muscle.
Realization dawns on Chuuya, and he looks dead horrified.
“You mean you want me to house this bastard?” The incredulous tone Chuya’s voice takes on does draw an honest smile out of Dazai. This is not good news for him.
“Yes, I want you to ‘house the bastard.’ He is vulnerable to revealing our secrets, therefore he is a liability. I trust you’ll complete this mission with utmost care, right, Chuuya?” The Boss has directed an order at his dog, and his dog is not trained to refuse.
Chuuya turns to the Boss fully, bowing respectfully and affirming his mission. He wrenches Dazai from his seat, and his expression is immediately sour when he turns from the Bo– Mori. That is a particular habit he did not expect to be so ingrained that it would resurface upon complete honesty.
He lets himself be dragged by his ex-partner, and he can’t even pretend that he doesn’t enjoy it.
Dazai was not putting up a fight to being dragged, and that was perhaps the most concerning part about their current situation. This is worse than mafia Dazai, this is Adult Depressed Dazai. A post-mafia Dazai that Chuuya doesn’t know as well. Although, it’s not like anyone else knows him at all. It’s no wonder why this job was left to him, and yet he still finds himself annoyed by it. This will be a long few days, if Dazai’s current mood is anything to go by.
“Oi, mackerel, you gonna speak at all?”
“No.”
“You just did.” Dazai is just as petulant as he is typically, so Chuuya guesses that is an inherent trait of his.
“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t say anything important.”
“For once in my life, I almost wish you’d have a conversation with me. This is eerie.”
“Yes, well. Sorry.”
This time, Chuuya leveled him with an absolutely disbelieving look, stopping in his tracks.
“What? I’m saying I’m sorry. This wouldn’t have happened if I was more careful. Now you’re stuck with someone else in your house for god knows how long. That’s probably not ideal.”
Chuuya is worried. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard the man say sorry to him; probably not in his entire life.
The redhead straightens Dazai out, forcing him to walk instead of dragging him, since now Chuuya feels a little bad. Dazai’s been at his apartment many times before, but this time it isn’t because they’re both on the edge of death. It isn’t because Dazai insisted on Chuuya cooking for him. It isn’t even because Mori ordered him to. It’s because he’s genuinely worried.
The dead look in those eyes. It’s the look that Dazai would give him on a particularly bad day. The days where the brunette looked like he could barely stand, the days where the chill under his skin threatened to take over his entire body. Weeks where Dazai wouldn’t speak, when he would simply nod or shake his head, following Chuuya around like a lost soul. Chuuya would find him collapsed on the bathroom floor, and he would gently wrap bandages around his haunted friend’s arm. But this time, it looked concerningly worse. Like suddenly the seemingly stable ground Dazai was standing on was ripped right from under him.
“Stop looking at me like that. It makes me feel like you can see my thoughts.”
“I might as well be able to. You don’t look like yourself. It’s fucking weird.”
Chuuya swiped his card through the lock, allowing him to step in with Dazai in tow. He sat Dazai on the couch, and proceeded to just look at him. The redhead knows this is a way to get him to talk, but only with him.
After an awkwardly long amount of time, Dazai finally seemed to crack.
“Fine.” Ha, just as expected.
“I know you want me to talk about it, or be ‘vulnerable’ about it, but there’s really no way to describe it. It’s like someone scooped out everything useful in my brain, leaving me with nothing. Just, nothing. I feel so incredibly empty, Chibi.” He ends the sentence with a sigh and an attempt at a bitter laugh, but it comes out completely humorless.
The man paused, looking at his lap. Collecting whatever thoughts he had left.
“I don’t know what to do, Chuuya. Please tell me what to do.”
The worst part? Chuuya knows what to do.
“I’ll be right back.” Chuuya looks Dazai in the eyes when he says this, making sure the man is fully aware that Chuuya will be back in case he has completely disassociated.
First, Chuuya turns down most of the lights in the apartment, only leaving dimmed warm lighting and the remaining sunlight filtering through the windows. He then collects his own favorite blanket before venturing to his bedroom closet. Behind multiple boxes the redhead pushes aside, he finds Dazai’s old favorite blanket folded in the very back. The box is labeled “Yeah. I still fucking have it.”
Upon returning, he finds that Dazai’s eyes are trained on the same spot they were when he’d left. Right. Grounding Exercises.
“Can you see anything?”
“Of course I can see.”
“Find five things and tell me what they are.” Chuuya’s voice is firm but caring. He understands that Dazai hates attention just as much as he loves it– he has to be extremely careful with the amount he gives during these moments. Right now, he faces away from Dazai, but is sitting close enough to Dazai to make him aware that there is another person here to help.
“I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Do it.” Dazai immediately folds, as Chuuya isn’t sure his previous sentence was even a protest– rather, an immediate defense to shield an insecurity. A truth hidden inside of a blanket statement.
“I see my fingers, I see two blankets, I see your ugly ass hat, I see your eyes, and I see your hair.” Chuuya ignores the comment about his hat and trudges forwards.
“Name four things you hear.”
“I hear you breathing, I hear your heartbeat, I hear… I don’t know, your apartment is pretty silent, Chuuya.”
“I disagree, just name two more things.”
“Okay, whatever. The fridge is making that humming sound, and I can vaguely hear that you still haven’t fixed the leak your sink has.” Chuuya does look at him now, a bit reproachfully for the sink comment, but also hopefully. He’ll be ready to talk soon.
“Three things you can feel?”
“My jacket, and my own tongue. It’s super dry. If only Chibi were to have offered me a water.”
“Do you actually want one?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, whatever. I’ll get you a glass of water if you can name two things you smell, and one thing you taste.”
“Okay, I smell Chuuya and I smell dog, which are the same thing, and I taste the sugary disaster of a coffee Ranpo made the entire office drink this morning.”
“Okay. I will go get you your stupid water, and then we can do whatever the fuck you do to pass time.”
“Sounds awesome, short-stack.” Despite his earlier unresponsiveness, Dazai seems a bit better, and is actively attempting to keep himself above that state. Like a drowning man, he swims to the surface, and sticks behind Chuuya to keep himself aware. He follows the redhead to the kitchen, picking at the beds of his fingernails as he does.
“Don’t fucking call me that. Where did you even learn that?”
“Don’t go to America, Chibi. I was on a blacklist anyways, but it certainly wasn’t my cup of tea. They do have some awfully good terms I learned though. Should I start calling you ‘toots?’” Speaking of cups of tea, Chuuya puts a kettle on the stove and gets to work on some egregiously black coffee for his odd partner. Ex- Partner, he reminds himself.
“Even I’ve heard that one in American dramas before, so I know you’re just using random, mildly offensive slang. I’ll just start calling you a ‘shmuck.’” Chuuya leans down to smirk at Dazai, ending up just a bit closer to his face than he’d imagined he’d end up. His smirk drops a bit as he sees the honest expression on Dazai’s face. He’s openly smiling, just a tiny bit, and looking at Chuuya with this star-struck look he has never once had the opportunity to view on such a familiar face.
“Does Chuuya watch American dramas often?” Dazai doesn’t back away, as he doesn’t seem to find anything odd about their current proximity. In fact, he seems to lean in an almost unperceivable amount, chancing a far-too-honest look at somewhere that Chuuya can only assume is his lips.
“Yeah… Just uh. Sometimes the people can be so much meaner than the shows we have here. It’s funnier.” His voice has unintentionally lowered to an almost-whisper. The thought that this is such a mundane conversation to be having while mere centimeters apart does cross his mind, but he’s far too focused on the glimmer in his partner’s eyes to care.
“Chuuya. You are so pretty, it’s unbearable.”
It took a few seconds, maybe even a minute for that to sink in. Dazai is still under the influence of some random truth serum, and they are currently in Chuuya’s kitchen, moments away from disrupting both of their carefully balanced, barely contented lives.
Damn it.