The first time Nakahara Chuuya met Dazai Osamu, he could barely look at him, let alone talk to him. But that was exactly what his Ane-san had asked of him, much to his bashful dismay.

On that day, the sun was shining high in the sky, its bright light flickering between the cherry blossom leaves floating through the cool breeze. They were standing by a swing set with a single seat. Chuuya was hiding behind Kouyou, his face hidden beneath the folds of her kimono's long sleeve.

"Chuuya-kun," called Kouyou, her voice light and lilted in the beautiful French language. She pat his head, gently running her fingers through his soft red curls while she coaxed him to appear. "Wouldn't you like to meet Dazai-kun?"

The tiny redhead buried deeper into his caregiver's side, and vigorously shook his head. "No," he quietly protested.

An airy chuckle chimed above him. "You'll be seeing quite a bit of him, so you should at least say hello."

Chuuya glanced up at Kouyou from beneath her sleeve with wide blue eyes. She had told him that he'd be introduced to another little boy. She did not, however, mention that he would be seeing him again after today. His mouth dropped open in a surprised squeak.

Kouyou simply smiled and nodded. "Go on," she urged.

Steeling his nerves, Chuuya took in a deep breath. He shifted behind his Ane-san, and peeked around her until he saw Dazai sitting on the swing. Their gazes connected. The brunet smiled at him, his brown eyes sparkling beneath his shaggy bangs. He lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers in a silent "hi" gesture. Chuuya immediately blushed a gorgeous shade of scarlet from the roots of his hair down to his tiny toes. He swiftly scurried behind Kouyou.

The woman sighed. Kouyou twisted around, then crouched before Chuuya, whose head was bowed to the ground. She placed one hand on his shoulder and grasped his chin with the other before carefully tilting it upward so they could stare eye-to-eye. Ozaki smiled.

"Talk to him, Chuuya-kun," she told the little boy, her tone stern, yet kind. She waited patiently for his hesitant nod. When she received it, she gracefully stood.

"I'll be back soon." Then, with a final pat of his head, she turned away and left him by the swing; his startled eyes followed her every movement until she disappeared.

While he stood there, Chuuya realized that he had nearly forgotten the dire problem at hand (Dazai Osamu) until he heard a sharp creak of worn metal grinding against rusted metal. He quickly dropped his gaze to the ground. The redhead stared at his feet and nervously twisted his hands together—Dazai was walking toward him. He briefly wondered if the earth would do him a favor by swallowing him whole before the brunet made it to him; the pair of feet clad in white sneakers standing in his field of vision told him he was very much alive.

Suddenly, Chuuya was greeted by the sight of a grinning Dazai, who was leaning to the side, his hair hanging from his forehead while he looked up at him.

"Can't talk, Chuuya-chan~?" he sang.

Chuuya's head snapped up, his cheeks bursting with color. At the time, he wasn't quite sure if it was due to the meaning behind one of the honorifics Ane-san had been tutoring him about, or if the pink flooding across his face was a result of Dazai simply being who he was. Deep down, he knew it was the latter, but he chose the former. His small fists clenched at his sides.

"Don't call me that!" he shouted, his Japanese wavering against his native accent.

Dazai straightened up and placed his hands into his pockets. He nonchalantly rocked back and forth on his heels. "Well, what would you do if I don't stop?" he taunted, smirking mischievously.

Judging by the other boy's ever-growing grin, Chuuya knew he was blushing. Again. He decided to blame Dazai for having such a nice smile.

"I'll tell Ane-san you're making fun of me," he threatened with a low growl.

The brunet cocked his head to the side, his bangs falling into his eyes. "Is it 'making fun' of you if you like it?"

"What?" squeaked Chuuya, his mouth opening and closing in shock.

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Dazai cupped them around his mouth, then spoke loudly, "Is it still making fun of you if I'm the one doing it?"

The emphasis Dazai had put on that simple word forced searing steam to hiss out of Chuuya's ears and his cheeks to reignite.

Chuuya furiously stomped his foot, stacks of billowing dust rising from the dirt while his fists shook. "I hate you!" he snarled.

"No you don't~!"

Practically hissing, Chuuya screeched, "I do!"

Then, with a final stomp, he spun on his heel and trudged away from Dazai, sizzling from head to toe, his body trembling with fury as the idiot's gleefully evil laugh met his pink-tinged ears.

According to Kouyou, Dazai was meant to be his partner during their training in addition to being by his side when they were old enough to partake in missions of their own.

During their combat and strategy lessons over the years, Chuuya endured endless hours of Dazai's taunting and teasing—all of which left the furious young redhead blushing all over. His flustered composure only gave the idiot more ammunition to torture him with. And boy oh boy did Dazai use it to the fullest. Especially after he shot up like a beanstalk overnight, thus leaving Chuuya in the dust, and unfortunately, at the mercy of his short jokes.

The weather was warm and breezy, the sun shining overhead in the cloudless blue sky. Chuuya sat on the swing, slowly moving back and forth while he practiced his punches the best he could in that position. With each thrust of his fists, the swing's chains creaked and swayed beneath his weight. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Chuuya didn't bother turning around—he knew who it was. And he could feel his cheeks warming at the thought of, like the many times before then, being alone with the thorn in his side.

"What do you want?" he grumbled.

"Chuuya-chan's not happy to see me?" gasped Dazai.

The redhead hopped to his feet and whirled around on his heel, and glared up at the taller boy. "Stop calling me that, or else I'll punch you for the idiot you are!"

Blinking, Dazai's eyebrows shot up in a skeptical manner. "I don't think you'll be able to reach me from down there, Chuuya-chan."

"You think you're funny, don't you?"

Dazai placed a hand on his hip and motioned at nothing with the other. "Of course," he drawled lazily. "Plus, it's fun to see how red the cute and adorable Chuuya-chan turns when he's out of his league."

At the mention of Dazai's misplaced flattery, Chuuya growled and flew around the swing toward the brunet with his arm raised in preparation to knock the idiot's lights out. But, it was no use. Dazai had laughed and zoomed away, leaving Chuuya hot on his trail while they spent the rest of the afternoon chasing after one another until they tumbled onto the grass in a heap of playful exhaustion.

Laughing breathlessly, Dazai rolled onto his side, then propped his head up with his elbow. He glanced down at Chuuya with a luminescent smile and a sparkle in his brown eyes, and Chuuya could feel butterflies fluttering in his belly, the tips of his ears dusting with a pale pink; the color matched the cherry blossoms falling from the tree, scattering with the wind that was blowing through Chuuya's curly tresses.

"Hey, Chuuya-chan?"

The redhead scoffed, but let it slide. He folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot against the open air. "Tch, what?"

"Why wouldn't you talk to me at first?" asked Dazai.

"Because I knew you were dumb."

Chuuya had a new hat, and Dazai had a new crutch to go along with his new bandages.

"What happened to you?" asked Chuuya as he walked over to the swing set where the brunet slowly pushed himself back and forth, his head bowed to the ground.

Dazai looked up at him, and Chuuya was doubly surprised to see a single brown eye.

"Nothing, Chuuya-chan," answered Dazai with a smile that was sad, yet it sent Chuuya's heart racing, nonetheless. He swung to the side and placed the crutch against the swing set's metal pole. He wrapped his hands around the chains, then glanced up at the redhead. "Will you push?"

"Um...sure," agreed Chuuya. He settled himself behind the other and placed his hands gently against his back before giving him a push; Dazai swung forward, then backward, then forward again.

During that time, silence had fallen between them. Chuuya didn't ask what had happened, and Dazai didn't speak a word while he continued to push him.

It was only when a cherry blossom landed in Dazai's dark hair that he began to talk, telling Chuuya about his leg and eye, but never about what lay beneath the bandages wrapped around his body.

The story was long; a cruel one that mixed with the creaking of the swing's rusted chains and floated away in the wind, dancing with the cherry blossoms falling from the tree by the swing set.

It was raining when they shared their first kiss by that old swing set. The soothing wind blew through the tree that had been there through the good times, and the bad, and every tear and laugh in between. Cherry blossoms danced in the breeze, and Chuuya swore they were whirling around them, wrapping the two young mafia members in its own kind of embrace.

A light spring shower sprinkled down from the sky, dampening their clothes and hair. Chuuya was leaning against the tilted metal pole, its cold touch seeping through his wet shirt.

Dazai stood before him, his body close and warm. He gazed down at Chuuya with a smirk, and reached up to tuck an errant wet curl behind his ear. The brunet's smile widened at the sight of Chuuya's cheeks heating a scarlet red. He brushed a thumb across the adorable color.

"Chuuya?" he murmured, running his fingers beneath the slightly older boy's chin, tilting his head up.

A new wave of crimson burst in Chuuya's skin, cascading from one cheek and over the bridge of his nose before it infused the other. He opened his mouth to say whatever he could think of at that moment, but was caught off guard when Dazai leaned down and pressed his soft lips against his own. His pending remark scattered with the wind, blowing away with the cherry blossoms.

They stood there for what felt like an eternity to Chuuya kissing beneath the rain. His heart pounded in his chest, butterflies erupted in his belly, and goosebumps traveled down his spine. He begged for the moment to never end; he would die happily if he were to meet it while Dazai's lips brushed along his.

And when Dazai wrapped his bandaged arms around his waist, pulling him flush against his body, the world faded away to nothing. There was Dazai, and only Dazai, and that was all the redhead ever wanted. He was drowning, gasping for air. But Dazai was kissing him, so it didn't matter. And just like the pink leaves, Chuuya was falling.

Chuuya decided that if this was kissing, he never wants to kiss anyone else ever again.