Summary: His gaze was firmly glued to the gun pointed at his forehead. He casually admired the hands holding the weapon of his eminent death. Fem!Chuuya. Oneshot.
Age 17
Osamu Dazai had hoped to have a fun time tonight. He had hung out at a bar and started talking to pretty redhead girl, probably in her late teens, around his age. They hit it off well. She was polite and witty.
Now, after going to a hotel, he was pinned against a bed. But that was because the girl planned to kill him.
His gaze was firmly glued to the gun pointed at his forehead. He casually admired the hands holding the weapon of his eminent death. There were small silvery knicks-from practicing with a knife-that were almost completely hidden by the pale white skin. Each fingernail was perfectly rounded and painted in bright red.
He smiled slightly and closed his eyes. After twenty seconds had passed, he opened his eyes.
Why wasn't she pulling the trigger?
He frowned. "Would you please kill me?" Dazai softly pleaded. He moves his gaze upwards, to the heart shaped face framed by curly red locks. He can't keep himself from comparing her brillant blue eyes to the sapphires he'd seen at jewelry shops with secret ties to the Port Mafia and fancy parties with unscrupulous guests.
Her lips tightened slightly. She frowned. Her eyes weren't filled with rage or apathy. She seemed to just be observing him, analyzing him.
Dazai remembered that he doesn't even know who she is, or why she's doing this. But from the red hair and the obvious experience at assassination, he guessed she was the Sheep gang's trump card, the "Queen of Sheep".
"I'm the Port Mafia's Demon Prodigy, the youngest executive," he apathetically reminded her. Undoubtedly, his position was at least somewhat involved in why she wanted him dead. "Kill me."
She clicked her tongue, annoyance flickered across her face. Her fingers moved.
Dazai watched her face. Better his last sight be of the face of a pretty girl than a weapon. But instead of a trigger being pulled and a bullet plunging through his skull, Dazai heard the small snick of the safety being turned back on.
"I don't kill dead men," she stated. Her tone carried the same distasteful air that a child had when saying something like "I don't eat broccoli". It was stated as a fact, something no one could change.
Dazai stared at her, confused. She wasn't going to kill him? He turned his gaze to the ceiling.
The door opened and closed. He hadn't heard her footsteps, she was completely silent.
There was a spark in Dazai's dead brown eyes. He was curious, for the first time since he was eight. He smiled and closed his eyes.
XXX
Lupin was a special haunt of Dazai's. He hung out with a two of his friend's there on a regular basis-the Port Mafia handyman Sakunose Oda and the Port Mafia intelligence officer Ango.
The dim lighting and location would lead one to assume what was going on was a somber meeting of Mafia members. However, that assumption was wrong.
There were practically stars in Dazai's eyes. "And then she said, "I don't kill dead men" and left. Isn't she interesting?"
"She does sound unusual," Oda agreed.
Ango sighed. "Interesting isn't the way I'd put it. She almost killed you."
Dazai nodded enthusiastically. "I know, right?" He smiled. "She's amazing. I didn't even suspect her."
Oda observed his friend carefully. There was a look on Dazai's face, one he hadn't send before-open childlike wonder and sincere interest. "You really like her," he calmly said.
Dazai leaned back slightly and chuckled at his friend's comment, his reaction was admittance enough that Oda was right. A sudden depressing thought slammed into him. He frowned. "But...what should I do?"
"What do you want to do?" Oda asked.
"Talk to her?" Dazai proposed. He shrugged.
"Well, you'd have to find her first," Ango pointed out. "But that would be hard to-"
Dazai grinned. "True!" He declared. "If I want to talk to her, I need to track her down first."
Ango sighed. "You're not giving this up are you?" He flatly asked. "It's not a good idea to look for someone who just tried to kill you." He sighed. "But you're not going to listen to me," he muttered.
XXX
He went searching for who the redhead girl was. Dazai got a name-Chuuya Nakahara-after trying two partnered information brokers and threatening them. Then after a bit more...persuasion, they gave up small bits of knowledge. Apparently, they were both well acquainted with her.
Miss Chuuya was a fellow information broker. Her information came from the many friends she had and the frequent high status guests she entertained as a courtesan. One of the brokers pulled out a picture of her at a fancy party, on the arm of a young man.
On the other hand, the moniker Queen of Sheep Dazai had attached to Miss Chuuya was connected to multiple assassinations over the years by a ginger female ability user. And considering the assassination attempt, he would say that guess was right.
Getting an address was a bit harder, but he managed.
XXX
She was staying on the higher class side of Yokohama, in a stone building.
He came in as an...unannounced client, timing it so that he walked in right as the other client left. Dazai bumped into the man, apologized, and then turned the corner. He knocked on the door.
"Hello," he cheerfully said. He raised a hand casually in greeting.
Chuuya pursed her lips slightly. "Come in," she decided.
He turned slightly, admiring the living room. Several beautiful paintings were scattered around the room. The carpet on the floor was threaded with purple flowers and green vines.
Chuuya gestured to a seat. "I'll get us some tea. What kind do you like?"
Dazai sat down and smiled at her. "I'll sat the choice to you," he delegated. He breathed in deeply through his nose. There was a familiar, strong aroma in the room. A mix of several herbs, he guessed.
There was a coffee table between two seats. Chuuya placed the tea set on the table and sat in the other chair. "Sugar or cream?" She suggested.
"A teaspoon of sugar, thank you."
Her hands confidently stirred sugar into his cup, and then her own. She also poured a small amount of the pitcher of creamer into her cup.
Judging her done, Dazai leaned forward slightly to pick up his cup. "So what was he, the businessman, here about?" He wondered out loud.
Chuuya smiled pleasantly. She put a hand in her lap. "Client confidentiality. I can't tell you anything."
Dazai hummed thoughtfully, moving his gaze to stare at the wall for a moment. "I'll guess that he was looking into his company's corruption. And perhaps, you're gathering information about possible snitches for those corrupt members of the company?" He gave a close eyed smile.
At the first part, she had frowned, before her smile returned. "Why are you here?" There was a slight bit of irritation in her voice.
Dazai sipped at his tea, humming a cheerful tune. "I'm here for the answer to a question," he dramatically declared.
"What question?" Chuuya's eyes were alert. The smile was there, but only slightly. Her shoulders were tensed. She was ready to fight, and considering last time, it was likely she'd win.
It was a good thing Dazai wasn't here for a physical fight then.
Dazai's eyes darkened, leaving looking dead and void of all happiness. His smile had turned to a smirk, a sharp shark-like one that screamed 'deadly' to anyone with a self preservation instinct. "Is sparing the life of a dead man punishment or mercy?" He asked, his voice smooth as velvet.
Chuuya forcibly relaxed her stance, making her look more casual and unthreatened. She tilted her head slightly. Her long earrings brushed against her jawline. "It depends on what the person choses to do."
"I was asking about your perspective." Dazai's gaze had shifted to the tea set, admiring the cherries intricately painted on the china.
"It depends on the person."
"Alright," he acquised. Dazai stared her down, confident brown locked on wary sapphire. "Then how about me?"
She clicked her tongue. "Really? You tracked me down because that desperate to know why?"
"You made me curious," he demurely admitted. He kept staring her down, but this time, it was with a small genuine smile.
"Mercy," she cooly revealed.
Dazai smiled and got up. "Thank you for answering my question. I look forward to doing business with you in the future."
XXX
Chuuya was who Dazai went to when he couldn't find information anywhere else. She was less of a last resort and more his trump card for information seeking. This was why he was walking up her new residence's front steps, humming a happy tune.
Dazai had taken precautions so that Mori would not take an interest in his informant. One such precaution was that he always parked his car several blocks away.
Chuuya had her own precautions. She changed her address on a regular basis. She seemed to stay in the the more upscale places in Yokohama, it didn't seem to matter to her whether it was Sheep territory or not.
This was the usual routine for his visits. He smiled and knocked politely on the door. She answered it with a look of annoyance. Dazai slipped past her, into the apartment. She closed the door.
Dazai beat around the bush for a bit. He predicted yet another of her client's situations-she merely sighed-and managed to get onto the topic of good quality knives. He was happy he managed to get her to show some interest in the latter topic. He admitted that he might have started talking a bit too eagerly then. He caught her rolling her eyes briefly.
Eventually, he voiced an opinion about a specific company's wine quality.
She gave him a scathing glare and soundly destroyed the idea. Apparently, Chuuya was a wine connoisseur.
Dazai gave an appropriately dramatic response. By that, I mean he blew things humorously out of proportion, claiming she had hurt his feelings.
With a crooked smirk, she shot back the question, "You have feelings?"
Dazai laughed, caught off guard.
XXX
The Sheep were a gang of the usual kind criminals. They were thieves, assassins, and information brokers mainly. All of them had grown up in the slums. They were run by a council. Those with a seat were still criminals, but of higher quality.
One of the regular places that they had decided to use again was the abandoned theater. It was one of the few buildings on Cone Street suited to holding all of the council members.
Chuuya sat on one of the rotten benches in the front. She had opted for a more casual look today, jeans and a t-shirt. She fit in better this way.
The rest of the bench filled up quickly. She greeted each fellow member with familiarity. Each of these guys she had grown up with, most of them were family in all but blood.
The meeting started off normal.
In the quiet that came after several voting issues, the black haired teenager Yashi loudly accused, "There's been a rumor that a Port Mafia member was seen leaving one of your apartments, Chuuya."
The young woman pursed her lips slighty. "I have merely gained a new client," Chuuya politely defended.
"Merely? He's Port Mafia," Yashi scoffed.
Chuuya stood up. She raised her head confidently. "I give him bits of information we have no use for, at a high price. Same with all of my other clients, little brother." The added on 'little brother' was a teasing prod at Yashi being younger. It was a bit of a light hearted joke among the older Sheep generation in referring to the new councilers.
"You're helping the Demon Prodigy," Yashi replied with disbelief.
Chuuya raised both of her eyebrows. "I'm also making him trust my information, as it's proven time and time again to be true. There are a lot of things we can do by giving a Port Mafia Executive false information on a situation." She smirked. "And it also means he's less likely to expect my knife between his ribs."
This explanation silenced any dissenters. There were nods and grumbles of agreement as Yashi and Chuuya sat down.
XXX
"Oh? What's with the look? Suddenly realizing how handsome I am?" Dazai questioned, in a shamelessly over the top and dramatic manner.
Chuuya rolled her eyes. "Do you have any friends?" She abruptly asked.
"Any other ones you mean?" Dazai joked.
"I'd consider us...acquaintances."
Dazai gasped. "I'd say we're a bit past acquaintances," he argued.
"Fine," Chuuya complied. She knew she'd only get her answer if she didn't get distracted or hung up by Dazai's shenanigans. "Do you have any other friends?"
"Two," he chirped.
"Well that's two more than I expected," Chuuya brashly stated. She sipped at her cup of wine.
"Chuuya," Dazai complained. He threw a hand over his heart, "I've been grievously wounded by your cruel assumption."
"Wounded?" Chuuya scoffed. "I don't care as long as you aren't bleeding all over my carpet."
"I'll keep that in mind," Dazai replied, with a close eyed smile.
"So, two?"
Dazai hummed. "Ango and Odasaku," he clarified. "We're drinking buddies."
Amidst the death and conspiracies that riddled his life, he had found a place mostly devoid of it. Chuuya was straightforward to a fault unless she was handling a client or target.
But they knew of course. If it was ever between him and the Sheep, it would not be him coming out on top. In the same way, if it was her over the Port Mafia, he wouldn't do it. But still, being mostly removed in each other's political spheres allowed them to be...mostly open.
XXX
The air was cold on this frigid night. The wind near the docks was cutting, an icy knife that chilled you to the bone.
Huddled in his black coat, Akutagawa snarled, "Hey. Who are you? Why are you here?"
His apprentice was a proper dog of the mafia, Dazai mused. One of Dazai's eyes were covered by bandages, the visible one narrowed. He turned around, hands casually in his pockets. Dazai smiled as he spotted her. "Hello Chuuko."
"Dazai," she curtly replied.
Dazai snapped his fingers. "Ah. You've never met Akutagawa, my apprentice, before. He's a bit too bloodthirsty for his own good."
Akuragawa tensed slightly at the harsh look his mentor gave him for yelling at the petite woman. He scowled at the pair of cold, sapphire eyes that swept over him slowly.
"What are you feeding him? He's thin as a rail," Chuuya teased. She smirked.
Dazai chuckled. He caught the usb she lobbed at him. "As usual, pleasure doing business with you, Chuuya-kun."
XXX
Chuuya was in an empty park, a bottle of wine in her hands. She was just about to open it. She saw the man in the black coat and with brown hair crossing the green grass, headed towards her. She didn't wanting to be accosted by him today. She didn't want to be around anyone right now. She wanted to do something to get out her frustration, like drinking. "Leave me alone, you waste of bandages," the woman tersely ordered. A scowl marred her face.
"Bad timing?" Dazai cheerfully asked. He sat down beside on the black bench, seemingly oblivious to her mood.
"Shut up Mackerel. What are you here for?"
He put his hand to his chin, thinking. "Since you keep giving nicknames, I should have one for you at least. Ah! I have it. Chibi."
"What did you call me?" She dropped all pretense of being polite and glared him down.
He laughed slightly and put his palms up. "Sorry, sorry. Alright, Chuuko. I'll go with that. I heard about a problem in the Sheep."
Chuuya clicked her tongue at the new nickname, but stopped glaring. "What about it?"
"Maa, well, everyone knows there was a traitor." Dazai snorted. "You guys take them more seriously then the Port Mafia, since all of you grow up together in the slums, Chuuko."
"And what, Mackerel?"
"The job of the Sheep's ace in that situation is pretty obvious. You had to hunt him down." Dazai kept careful watch of his companion's body language. "You had to kill him."
Chuuya's grip tightened dangerously around the bottle in her hands. "So what?"
Dazai sighed, keeping up his smile. "I brought glasses." He waved them around briefly for emphasis. They were two stem wine glasses, not the kind cheap but not insanely pricey type either.
Chuuya blinked, surprised by the nonsequiter. She nodded and opened the bottle. They drank together in silence.
XXX
Age 18
The summer sun was warm. The cafe was cute. The food was food. The slight breeze was refreshing.
Chuuya craned her neck slightly as she heard the now familiar nickname.
"Chuuko!" A voice chirped.
She put down her fork. "What, Osamu?" Chuuya evenly returned.
Dazai's eyes widened. "Osamu?"
"You've been calling me Chuuya and Chuuko for months now. It's only fair." She shrugged.
Dazai grinned. He gestured to the other seat at the table. "May I?"
"Sure."
XXX
Dazai leaned back into the seat, legs crossed. He craddled a teacup in his hands. He smiled. "To be honest, I'm here out of curiousity, not business. I have another question."
Chuuya twirled a strand of her long red hair between her fingers, her gaze curious. "Oh? What is it?"
"I realized I didn't know what ability you had." Dazai grinned. "I'll go first." Dazai casually gestured to himself, a hand held over his heart, "My ability is No Longer Human. I can cancel out other abilities when touching the castor."
Chuuya let the silence dragged on. She frowned. Info on abilities was crucial, especially if you ever planned to fight said ability user. It was an information exchange, wrapped in a trust exercise. "Mine is For the Tainted Sorrow," she replied. "Gravity manipulation."
XXX
Dazai looked blank. More like an empty shell than a person. He sat down on the couch, but didn't seem to occupy the space in the way he usually would. "One of my friends was a traitor," he began."
Chuuya frowned, sympathetically. "And the other one?"
"Odasaku is dead," he whispered. His voice cracked.
"Sit on the couch. I'll be back," Chuuya ordered. She returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses-they were the pricy kind, with intricate white engravings.
They drank together. Until Dazai got drunk, when his face was tinted red and his tongue loosened.
And if Dazai buried his face in her neck and she felt tears on her shoulder, neither said a thing about it. If Dazai poured out the full tale behind his friend's death and another's betrayal, she only murmured soft reassuring words. If Dazai confessed everything he had been thinking, half depressing suicidal ideas and the tempting, hurtful thought of leaving, she never told another soul. If they fell asleep on the couch together, neither mentioned it when the sun came up.
XXX
Chuuya always checked each apartment she entered. She looked for disturbances, even the slightest difference that could warn of a safe place being breached.
It was why she immediately spotted it, sitting on a small table, basking in the sunlight that made it though the cloudy sky. A single red camellia had been put in a clear glass vase. The edge of a card was stuck under the vase, keeping it in place.
I'll be out of touch for a bit, but don't worry. I'll be back.--Mackerel
XXX
Age 22
"Chuuko," a cheerful voice chirped in greeting.
Pale fingers went abruptly slack. The saucer and teacup shattered on the floor. The hot tea spilled out, pooling in the indents between tiles.
Dazai blinked, eyes wide. "Sorry about startling you."
Chuuya slid off the stool. "Dazai?" She asked, unsure.
She knew Dazai as the often sullen, eccentric mafioso dressed all in black. Now, before her was a man in a tan coat and a smile that could be genuine.
"The one and only," Dazai joked with a dramatic gesture. He studied her as she had studied him. Her hair was a bit longer, reaching down past her chest. Her blue eyes seemed a bit sharper and the aura around her more confident. Dazai had only seen her in business attire. But right now, Chuuya was dressed casually, in leggings and a sweatshirt.
Chuuya remembered the mess and glanced down. She clicked her tongue. With a flick of her wrist, the china pieces floated obediently into the trash, while the tea went into the sink.
Dazai watched the demonstration with interest. This was first time Chuuya used her ability in front of him.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow. "Tea?"
Dazai smiled. "I'd love some." He sat at the counter and hummed, content to watch instead of talk.
Chuuya grabbed cups from the cabinet. Using the teapot on the counter, she filled them half way.
"I heard you made a rather large career change," Chuuya noted. She deftly added sugar to both, and some cream to her own. She brought them over, pushing Dazai's over to him.
Dazai laughed softly. Of course, she had figured out where he went to. She was probably the first in the entire city to connect his former and current identity. H*ll, he might bet she beat everyone in knowing (except for Ango, who Dazai had guilt tripped into helping him). He propped his chin on his hand. "Not really. I already had to figure out how to catch criminals, now I just get to hand them over to the police after." His smile grew a bit sharp. "It's a lot more cost efficient."
Chuuya smirked. "Yes, the price of ammo has gone up. And you don't ever have to clean up after. But it is a bit more difficult, especially when you have someone who seems to make a particular effort in being stupid and trying to get themselves killed."
Dazai hummed in agreement. "Yes, and more time consuming." He shrugged. "But that's the price of being in the light."
XXX
Age 23
Dazai walked in the office, later then usual.
"Who's the woman?" Ranpo bluntly asked. This was routine by now, Ranpo always asked about it when he noticed the clues-the ones others would not notice.
He would catch a whiff of a perfume that was not the type Yosano wore. Ranpo would observe how Dazai sometimes was more relaxed and more...genuinely happy, without there being a reason he knew off. He noted the absence of loud dramatic musings by Dazai about hanging, overdosing, poisoning, etc. himself that usually happened on a frequent basis. Very occasionally, in the afternoons when Dazai came back from going off somewhere, there was even the reddish tinge of lipstick that he had attempted to wipe away.
"Woman?" Atsushi asked, confused.
"It's one of the Armed Detective Agency's mysteries," Tanizaki informed his co-worker. "Ranpo suspects Dazai of dating someone secretly, or something. At the very least, we know he hangs out with some unknown lady friend."
"Dazai hangs out with a lady friend?" Atsushi replied, skeptical. He eyed his mentor, doubt clearly visible.
As usual, Dazai only smiled enigmatically and said nothing. Inwardly, he smirked.
Ranpo narrowed his eyes and went back to sucking on a lolipop. Day 809 and he still had yet to figure it out. The only mystery that took him longer to solve was the ongoing one-currently at 812 days-about why Dazai wrapped some much of himself up in bandages.
XXX
The three way war was gearing up.
"The Sheep will stay neutral," Dazai commented to Ranpo, and the office in general. "Which...may be good or bad, depending on how this goes."
"Who's the Sheep?" Atsushi asked.
"A criminal group, based in the slums. They've been around for a few years. They're bit smaller then the Port Mafia, but still powerful," Kunikida rattled off. It sounded like a memorized description.
"Oh. Do they have ability users?" Atsushi asked. He turned to Dazai, looking for the answer.
Dazai hummed. "A few."
XXX
Atsushi had proposed an alliance with the Port Mafia. This idea had been shot down during a meeting between the two groups.
But, Mori was rarely up front about his thoughts. He called in some help, someone to help Dazai retrieve Q from the Guild.
XXX
A red blur crashed into some of the Guild members. The dust cleared as several men screamed and cried out. It was Chuuya, wielding a set of glowing knives as if they were connected to her by an unseen wire. She pulled her hand back and the knives came to her palm, almost like obedient pets returning to their master.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here," Dazai said.
"Mori owes me a favor now." Chuuya shrugged as if it was nothing. She flicked her wrist and her knives mimicked the action on a large scale, flying out into her enemies once again.
The grunts had been taken care of easily.
Lovecraft took a swipe at Dazai. And that showed a very big problem, for some reason Lovecraft's ability wasn't affected by Dazai's. Which meant it wasn't an ability.
"Do you mind if I borrow one?" Dazai rhetorically asked Chuuya as he plucked a butterfly knife from the air. The red glow stopped as No Longer Human, Dazai's nullification ability took effect.
He quickly engaged Steinbeck in a fight. The Guild member had very bad close combat skills and was quickly subdued. Dazai placed the sharp edge of the knife across Steinbeck's throat.
Lovecraft turned into a horrifying monster.
"I need you to use your ability on me," Chuuya requested. "I have exactly one minute and forty seconds until my body is damaged beyond repair, understand?"
"Yes," Dazai replied, somber. His eyes were dark. He didn't know what she was about to do, but he knew it wasn't going to be good.
She gave a sharp nod. "O grantors of dark disgrace, you need not wake me again." Swirls of hypnotic red crept up pale skin. An empty smile and harsh laugh. This...gave her the ability to create what seemed to be mini black holes and fling them. Blood seeped from her ears. Dazai didn't like it.
With the help of some bombs hidden in Dazai's coat, Lovecraft died.
He immediately lunged for her wrist.
Chuuya's blue eyes went back to normal. The red lines receded, leaving behind trails of blood. She staggered heavily, leaning against him. She tried to move her feet but couldn't. She wasn't used to the effects of Corruption. This was only the second time she had used it.
Dazai shifted slightly, keeping her leaned against him. He perched her hat on top of his head. With a quick movement, he picked her up, craddling her against his chest. He steadied himself. He used his wrist to move the bangs out of her face. "Any injuries?"
Chuuya sighed. She didn't really need to be carried, she thought to herself. Which wasn't true, she just didn't want to be carried. "No. I just want to sleep for the next week."
Two wry smiles tugged at their lips.
XXX
The Guild was sent packing. But many things happened in the following months.
XXX
Fukuzawa bit his lip. The last resort left...was to call the Port Mafia. He raised a hand to punch in the number. He paused. He remembered something. Dazai had given him a number recently, for when things went terribly wrong.
Dazai had looked him in the eye. His usually smiling features had straightened into a focused, sharp look. He was completely serious, dead serious. "Preisdent, if Ranpo and I are out of commission, and the Armed Detective Agency and Yokohama are in deep trouble, I want you to call this number. Don't tell anyone about this number, and please burn it after you memorize it."
Fukuzawa frowned. Had Dazai predicted this? It was possible. But more likely, he just knew things might get rather bad.
But now, it was not the time for thinking, it was the time for action. He would trust in his employee, even though Dazai was currently imprisoned, and call the number.
XXX
The prison held two masterminds. They plotted against each other. They talked to each other, without being able to hear the other side of the conversation. They communicated with the outside world, their chosen chess pieces, without officially having any contact with them.
"How about we discuss our pieces," Fyodor said.
"Oh? Sure. You first," Dazai cheekily replied. He stretched his arms out, his muscles had started to get stiff. There was a lot of mental exercise in this prison, but none of the physical type.
There was only one major piece Dazai was seemingly missing. And Fyodor wanted to know why. "Who's your queen, that is, if you have one?"
Dazai chuckled. He nonchalantly waved the question away. "She likes to lay low."
Fyodor frowned. So Dazai did have a queen? What was he having the piece do?
"What I'm having her do? I'm not telling her to do anything." Dazai grinned.
"See, my queen is a bit different from my other pieces. She's more of a player, with her own initiative and priorities," Dazai explained. "She's a bit temperamental and does what she wants."
Honestly, having a piece that was unpredictable to Fyodor was fun. Chuuya was a bit of a wild card, mixing things up at the lat moment with her interference. But to Dazai, her interference would be benevolent, while to Fyodor it would be malevolent.
XXX
Chuuya sat in front of Ango. Her smile was pleasant, her gloved hands folded in front of her. "I want you to call off your dogs."
"You want me to let the Agency get away?" Ango asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
Chuuya nodded. "I'm here to convince you to do that, yes. For one, we both know the Agency isn't like that. Something else is going on."
Ango frowned. "And two?"
She gave a dark smile. Her eyes were alluring dark pools that the unwary drowned in. She calmly told him.
Ango was an unflappable spy with an absurd amount of crime related information and an equally absurd number of identities, someone who had committed atrocities. He still couldn't stop the widening of his eyes or the twitch in his hand as Chuuya Nakahara explained what would happen if he didn't comply. "You're insane."
"No, just dedicated." Chuuya gave a close eyed smile.
XXX
With Fyodor rebutted for the time being, peace came to Yokohama once again.
XXX
His feet moved him towards the address. Dazai kept his arm against his chest, pressing the tan coat on his wound. The blood soaked into the cloth. But because of the way he held it, the people he passed couldn't see the red stains. Nor did they suspect from his bright smile and cheery demeanor that he had been recently stabbed and was bleeding out.
He picked the lock and closed the door behind him. He flopped onto the floor backwards. Grateful to be somewhere safe, he passed out.
Chuuya rushed towards the door when she heard the thud. She looked at her hallway and glanced down.
And there was Dazai, bleeding out on an expensive Egyptian rug.
She sighed. "I told you to not do one thing," Chuuya groused as she pressed his already bloodied coat against the stab wound. She was half sure he had collapsed here just to annoy her.
Of course, peace in Yokohama was a relative word.
XXX
The client was a man with brown hair, perhaps in his early thirties. He wore a unbuttoned grey blazer and loose black tie. He introduced himself as Rando. "I am here to ask to your help in dealing in with Arahabaki, the monster that rampaged in the Cone."
Kunikida nodded. "If you'll give us some more details, we'd be happy to accept."
XXX
Dazai noticed the dates. The attack, the one that created the Cone, sixteen years ago.
What else matched up, who did he know in the slums who could help? Chuuko.
Actually...sixteen years ago and a almost a month later, was when Chuuko's own record started, when she joined the Sheep.
Dazai had a hunch. Not a good one. One he hoped was wrong, but...he was rarely wrong.
XXX
Dazai: On my way
Dazai: Here
He strolled into the apartment, after picking the lock.
"Hello," Chuuya greeted. She was on the couch, a cup of tea on the small table near her. "So, why did you want to stop by? Need some more info?"
"I got a new case," Dazai explained, affirming that he was here for information.
"What's it about?"
"Mm. A monster," Dazai cheerfully said. He plopped himself down on the couch, beside Chuuya. He always had a suspicion about the collar she wore around her neck. Chuuya never took it off. He leaned towards her, eyes focused on the collar.
"Dazai?" Chuuya asked, confused.
"Just checking something," Dazai explained. He carefully pulled her collar up. Her neck was warm and smooth, he subconsciously noted.
She shivered slightly-his hands were cold-but didn't move to stop him. The look on her face was resigned. "Suspecting me of being involved?"
The creamy skin under the collar was marred. A line of black numbers tracked the side of her throat.
Dazai brushed his thumb over the mark. A5158, it neatly spelled out. "Chuuko, how did you get this?" He couldn't feel her pulse, but he could feel her breathe. "The Armed Detective Agency's new client...he wants us to find Arahabaki."
She snorted, a jolt of force underneath his fingers. "Well, you found me," Chuuya brazenly confirmed. She tilted her head, locking eyes with him. "Now, what will you do?"
Dazai hummed. She wasn't lying, her breathing was completely even again. "I do owe you," he chirped. "If you don't want to be found, well...I'll cover for you." He smiled and carefully pulled the collar down to cover the mark. "Oh, and try to find out more, of course."
She pecked him on the cheek, but rolled her eyes. "I saved the life of all your coworkers. Don't think this completely covers it," Chuuya reminded in amusement.
"Of course," Dazai agreed with a slight smile. He stretched himself out on the couch, using her lap as a pillow.
"Your head is heavy. Move for a second." Chuuya flicked him, lightly. Dazai grumbled, but lifted his head up high enough for her to slip one of the couch cushions under.
XXX
Ranpo sucked on his lollipop for a few seconds, eyes fixed on Dazai. "Why did you leave work early for yesterday? The woman?"
"Hmmm? What woman?" Dazai blinked at him, an innocent look on his face.
"What were you doing?"
"I was thinking up a great way to commit a painless suicide." Dazai beamed a smile at the detective. That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either.
"No complaints about you yesterday, which is unusual," Ranpo noted. He dropped off the windowsill and drew closer. He sniffed. "I can definitely smell a vanilla and caramel perfume, you're coated in it." Dazai opened his mouth to reply, but Ranpo refused to back down. "And no, that's not a new cologne you're trying out."
"That's true. I wasn't trying it out on purpose. I accidentally got coated in perfume at the mall. I stood way to close to a booth." Dazai poured. "I was trying to get the lady there to commit a double suicide, but she declined rather harshly." He shook his head sorrowfully.
Ranpo sighed. He didn't have the patience for this. "Fine."
Dazai trained around to go to his desk, his small smirk unnoticed.
XXX
"See...I found Arahabaki. But I don't want to tell you how to find it, Mr. Arthur Rimbaud. So you're going to have to convince me." Dazai grinned, hands in his pockets.
Rando, or Arthur Rimbaud as he was truly named, swiftly pulled out a gun and pressed it at Dazai's head.
Dazai sighed. He kept still, eyes focused on the weapon. "Okay, okay. Just let me call my friend, he's the one who captured Arahabaki."
Rimbaud nodded slowly.
Dazai carefully pulled his right hand out of his pocket. He dialed Chuuya's number. "Nakahara, I'm in the abandoned construction site on the eat side of the Cone. Yeah, the one near Bing. Bring Arahabaki." That whole conversation was a large tip off to Chuuya that something was wrong. He ended the call.
They waited. The sun was beating down on their heads. Wind stirred the dust in the rubble around him, waves of white dust blew gently around them.
Dazai flung himself backwards at the first flash of red he saw. He used his elbow to roll to the left-getting rid of some of the force-and get back on his feet.
The gun in Rimbaud's hand crumpled up.
The next moment, they weren't in the real world anymore.
Rimbaud had used his ability. In this hyperspace pocket dimension, abilities didn't work.
The fight was quick. Unable to find a more clean opening, Chuuya plunged a knife into his stomach. Her hat lost its red glow and flew off.
Rimbaud sat on the ground, blood pouring out of his stomach. He decided to explain himself. Rimbaud anted remember his friend Verlaine's last moments. Even if it meant taking the life of Chuuya in the hopes that his amnesia about the events of Arahabaki's rampage would return. He spoke quietly about humanity, and the two younger ability users listened.
They returned to the real world.
Chuuya picked up her hat. She brushed the dust off of the brim.
Dazai stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"So, want to get something to eat?" He suggested.
XXX
They were in one of the private rooms at a restaurant.
They exchanged some banter as they ate.
Chuuya put her chopsticks down. "The first time I opened my eyes," she began, "I was surrounded by destruction. The ruins of several city blocks. And that felt...right. I found the only thing that was intact, an adult sized black fedora. So I put it on and ran away to hide. I used my ability and some hand to hand I picked up to survive in the slums. I was found by the Sheep...and the rest you know." She shrugged.
Dazai was silent for a few seconds, thoughtfully eating another mouthful of noodles. He swallowed. She had told her story, so he would tell his. "I was picked up by Mori after I ran away from my parents. They were on the wealthy side, horrible at anything to do with handling children. Mori treated me as an equal most of the time. He taught me most of what I know. I became a Port Mafia Executive, then ran into you three years later."
XXX
Chuuya froze, staring at the syringe. It was filled with a clear liquid.
Who had put it there?
There was a small postit note. In a familiar barely intelligible script was the word, "Hurry."
She grabbed the syringe and her purse, then sprinted out of her apartment.
XXX
She stopped for a second to fix her hair. A worried look slipped on her face, rather easy to do, since she was concerned about what exactly is Dazai needed the syringe for. She opened the door, peeking into the room. "Hello?" She asked, stepping inside. "Is this the Armed Detective Agency?"
"Yes, Miss. We are." A tall blond haired man dressed in a tan suit approached her. "I am Kunikida. Can I help you?"
"I...someone I know is, is in trouble." She put a tremble in her voice. "I was told to come here by a coworker of yours, Dazai? He said he would help me." Where was Dazai? Was he not at the office?
"Dazai? He's my partner." Kunikida hesitated. Worry flashed across his face before being smothered by professionalism. "Unfortunately, he's..indisposed."
"Indisposed? Is he okay? What happened?"
"Dazai-san is unconscious." Another young man answered, he had white hair and golden-purple eyes. He rubbed a hand up and down his forearm, appearing uncomfortable. "He was hurt, and fell asleep." He looked up, eyes wide. He rushed to reassure her, "Our doctor is looking after him. So he should be fine." He started, "Oh, and I'm Atsushi," he shyly introduced.
"Maybe you should come back tomorrow, Miss?" Kunikida suggested. "But if it's urgent, I promise to do our best to help."
Chuuya bit her lip. "Okay," she agreed. "It's fine. I'll come back tomorrow." Dazai was in the infirmary then, behind the double doors. She turned as if to leave, facing the infirmary.
She pushed the strap of her purse up. Chuuya walked towards the infirmary, casually enough that the detectives didn't think of it as being off. The expression on her face changed from worry to annoyance, dropping her mask. She opened one of the double doors and sprinted inside. There was a reason she wasn't wearing heels.
The empty infirmary bed was moved to block the door with a flick of Chuuya's hand. It wouldn't be a long lived obstacle, but it would buy her time.
The female doctor was reading a magazine by Dazai's bedside, keeping an eye on his condition. Before she moved, a knife was hovering in front of her throat, threatening to slice her carotid artery.
Dazai was always pale. But now his skin was the color of paper without a drop of ink.
Chuuya took off her right glove, stuffing it in her purse. She unwound the bandages on Dazai's left arm, up past his elbow. Dazai's trenchcoat and shirt were half-sleeves, conveniently.
There was banging on the infirmary doors and panicked shouts.
The doctor was staying still, eyes wide fixed on Chuuya intently. "Who are you?"
Chuuya ignored her. She fished the syringe from her purse. She started to search for a large vein in the crook of Dazai's elbow. Chuuya uncapped the syringe, and inserted it. She pushed the stopper down steadily. She took it out and wrapped his arm back up, he hated seeing his scars or other people seeing them.
The doors burst open, no match for a young detective's impressive strength.
Chuuya turned partially to face them, taking a step away from Dazai's bed. The syringe, now empty, she dropped to the floor. Another knife was in her hand. Her eyes were constantly flickering between the doctor, Dazai, and the rest of the detectives.
Atsushi, impatient, leapt at her first. He is almost casually flipped over on his back.
Chuuya held a knife against his throat, raising an eyebrow at the rest. The look on her face clearly said, "don't try this, you won't win."
Ranpo had his eyes open and glasses on, trying to figure her out.
Yosano was trying to subtly reach for her doctor's bag under the infirmary bed. It had several cleavers that would be useful.
Kunikida had his pen and book out, a flash grenade already in his hands.
The bed creaked. Everyone looked at it, a hint of hope in their eyes.
Dazai yawned loudly. Although groggy, he brightened up immediately at seeing Chuuya. He quickly slid out of his bed. "Chuuko, you found it." He grined as he encased her in a hug, burying his head into the crook of her neck.
"Ahh, she's the woman," Ranpo muttered. He smirked, happy to have figured out what was going on.
Chuuya sighed, looping her arms loosely around Dazai's waist. "Dazai, next time, give me an explanation."
"But then I could have died, I don't know when you were going to get it. Those few second could gotten me killed," Dazai whined in her neck.
Chuuya rolled her eyes. "Then you could have sent me a message beforehand, since you knew what was going to happen," she irritably pointed out.
Dazai smirked, pulling away slightly to press a kiss to her cheek. "But where's the fun in that?" He joked.
"I don't know, but where's the fun in making me almost have a heart attack?" Chuuya deadpanned.
Dazai hummed, looking around them. "Hmm, seeing my coworkers gapping at us like fish?"
A/N
Sheep!Chuuya who never joined the Port Mafia is a very interesting idea, with just that being the main canon change, no genderswap. It would mean there's no Double Black, at least until after Dazai leaves the Port Mafia. (Unless Mori manipulates the Sheep and borrows Chuuya for operations or unless they just...bump into each other, but let's say that doesn't happen.) Their relationship would be a bit different, lacking that shared history, they wouldn't trust each other. They probably...wouldn't be partners. Those years of building up a mutual trust and sibling rivalry are very important for them. (This version would also be a bit toxic, as there's no mutual trust and Dazai would probably take advantage of Chuuya's abilities without regard for him as a person.)
I wanted some Fem!Chuuya x Dazai. I ended up with healthy friendship and blatant ship hints. But hey, I'm happy to have a healthy relationship version for the ship.
-Silver