"I swear, Ane-san, he's going to drive me insane."

Chuuya sat, slightly slumped, in a comfortable chair in front of Kouyou Ozaki's desk. They were situated in one of the higher offices in the Port Mafia's skyscraper complex. The tall, graceful-looking woman sitting across from him sipped tea peacefully as he recounted his many woes and frustrations regarding Osamu Dazai.

It was hardly anything she hadn't heard before. Dazai was a consistent pain in the rear for her protégé. And she didn't particularly mind that he was choosing to gossip about his partner instead of discussing the case that had fallen to the two of them. It amused her.

"And I can't believe I almost felt bad for him. For him! Ane-san, I think I need a break, I'm actually going crazy."

Kouyou sighed and set her cup down gently. "Why on earth would you feel bad for him?"

Chuuya paused. "You know how he's always going on and on about how he wants to die?" He fiddled with the hat sitting in his lap. "Well, it seems like he's actually been taking matters into his own hands."

Kouyou chuckled. "Well then, good for him. I'm glad he's getting what he wants."

Across from her, the redhead bristled. "No! I mean, why? Why would we be okay with that? He's even in line to be an Executive."

The woman stared at him curiously. "If he wants to die, who are we to stop him? Besides, I would have thought that his committing suicide would be a relief to you. After all, you were just going on about how disagreeable he is."

"Just because I hate him doesn't mean that I'm okay with him killing himself!" Chuuya growled. "I want to kill him myself."

Kouyou studied him thoughtfully. Slowly, a smile spread across her face.

"Oh. I see," she said airily. "Very well then. Do what you wish. I won't stop you."

Chuuya looked at her warily. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She picked up her tea again. "I'm sure you will figure it out soon enough."

Kouyou watched as Chuuya's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. After a few moments, he slowly stood up.

"Thanks for talking with me, Ane-san. I still don't know what you mean, but I'll try to figure it out."

Kouyou smiled again. "Of course."

Chuuya placed his hat on his head and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Chuuya."

The redhead turned his head.

"Don't be afraid to express how you feel."

Chuuya paused, thoughtful, and turned back toward the door.

"Thanks, Ane-san. I think I'll take your advice."

As he walked out the door, Kouyou swiveled her chair to look out the window, taking another sip of her tea as she quietly mused.

These two–Dazai and Chuuya–were undoubtedly one of the strongest duos that the Port Mafia had to offer. Their teamwork was virtually unmatched, despite the two being polar opposites. Dazai was a confusing character; no one had any idea what he was truly thinking or feeling. Chuuya, on the other hand, wore his emotions on his sleeve. Dazai had no consideration for himself or the people around him. Chuuya abided by some semblance of a moral compass. Both were individually strong, but together their strengths were amplified.

She was unconcerned as to whether they would be able to complete the job well; she had no doubt that they would. Really, their only potential downfall would have been their mutual hatred.

She laughed softly. Now, it was evident that they didn't hate each other as much as she thought. And she was very interested in seeing how that would turn out.

"...And so, with the information we have so far, we're only just starting to get an idea of what we're up against."

As he spoke, Dazai traced the rim of a glass that sat on the edge of his desk. The cup was filled with a dark liquid that fizzed gently, the bubbles nudging the shiny ice cubes that floated to its surface. A clink sounded from the glass as it shifted slightly to the side under Dazai's touch. He glanced up from his drink to peer at his friend in the dim light of his office.

Across from him, Sakunosuke Oda stared into his own drink thoughtfully. His was a lighter color, and he sniffed it gently before taking a small sip. The glass dangled from his fingertips as he swirled it.

"It sounds like you have a good start," he said at last.

Oda and Dazai had recently struck up an odd sort of friendship. They had met while working on a case; Oda, being one of the lowest members of the Port Mafia, had been assigned under Dazai. He had been impressed by Dazai's incredible strategic abilities, and the teenager's…unique way of thinking had likewise left an impression. He was somewhat disturbed by Dazai's utter disdain for life, but he recognized something in the teenager that he deemed worth creating a friendship for. Dazai had been similarly taken with Oda; he found the man's sincerity, wisdom, and lack of pride or greed–a combination of qualities that was so rare among mafiosos–rather refreshing. Despite their age gap of five years, they found that they could speak to each other as equals. And so, over the course of the past few months, they had held occasional friendly meetings in which they simply talked.

"What's your plan now?" Oda asked, setting his glass down on Dazai's desk. The bottom of the glass thudded against the dark wood. The desk's surface appeared to be stained slightly darker in certain areas. Oda didn't bother to ask why.

Dazai sighed. "Our main objective is to find the identity of the attacker, but in doing so we also need to squash the growing rebellion against the Port Mafia. Our first step is, of course, to gather information from various sources regarding the circumstances of the other night. I have some ideas, but it's really not going to be easy to find out who our mystery man is."

Oda raised an eyebrow. "But you'll find him, of course."

The teenager grinned. "Of course."

Oda nodded, but then paused, scrutinizing Dazai's face carefully. "Are you okay? You look a little…different today."

Dazai scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm as fine as ever, despite the antics of a certain little ginger-head that I happen to live with." He folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them. "Do you know what it's like to try to sleep in clothes that are at least three sizes too small on you?" His voice was muffled through his sleeve. "It's suffocating. You feel like you're getting all of the air squeezed out of your body. And if you can't breathe, well, you can't sleep either. And it didn't help that I could hear his snoring all the way from the living room." He turned his head to the side so that the non-bandaged side of his face was visible. "Plus, he made me shower. It was miserable."

Oda felt a smile tugging at his lips at the doleful soliloquy, but he suppressed it for Dazai's sake. "It sounds like it was hard on you. It must be awful, being cared for by someone."

Dazai pouted, resting his chin on his arm. "I don't need to be cared for. I want to treat myself as terribly as I want. I don't want anyone looking out for me." He paused to glance at the man across from him. "No offense."

This time, Oda allowed himself to smile. Dazai was certainly a bit of a child sometimes, but in those instances he really meant no harm. "Sure," he answered lightly, picking up his glass again and taking another small sip. "Why are you still living with him, anyway?"

Dazai groaned. "The boss thinks it's a good idea to keep an eye on him as he acclimates to working in the Port Mafia. He chose me for the task, so unfortunately I've been stuck being his babysitter for the past few months." He grinned suddenly. "I rented the jankiest apartment I could find. I'm hardly ever there, anyway. And I have better things to do with my money than waste it on someone else's comfort."

Oda chuckled despite himself. Dazai was really something else.

The brunette peeked at the cup in Oda's hand. "Let me try that," he said abruptly.

Oda started. "Aren't you a bit young to be drinking? You're sixteen, right? It would probably be better to stick to what you're having." He raised his eyebrows at Dazai's expression. "And by better, I mean legal."

The teenager rolled his eyes. "We're a part of the Mafia, Odasaku. We extort and kill people almost every day. And now you're worried about the law?"

Oda winced slightly, but considered his statement. The kid did have a point; the law wouldn't typically factor into the decisions of a young mafioso. Besides, it wasn't really his place to make those decisions for him. If Dazai wanted to do something stupid, he would do it regardless of what anyone else told him. He was bound to learn the hard way, one way or another. It would probably be better for both of them if he was there to help deal with the aftermath, anyway.

With a heavy sigh, Oda handed his glass to Dazai. The latter took it carefully, holding it up to the light. He sniffed the liquid, swirled it around a bit, and then gulped down half of its contents. He immediately spluttered and coughed violently, tears springing to his eyes as he doubled over in his chair. Oda jumped up, grabbing Dazai's own glass and holding it out to him. The teenager raised his hand, still coughing, and proceeded to down the rest of the glass. Oda, stunned and slightly confused, slowly sat back down. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he warily watched Dazai, who appeared to be hacking up a lung. Maybe this really was a bad idea after all.

After a few minutes, Dazai's coughing fit subsided. He raised his head slowly, his face bright red and panting heavily.

"Does it taste better later on?" he asked weakly.

Oda placed his head on the desk, propping up his chin. "You get used to it," he admitted. "Some people, like me, even come to enjoy the flavor. Though I hope that by now you've decided to wait a couple more years before getting into that."

Someone suddenly cleared their throat by the doorway. Oda turned his head and was met with the sight of an irritated boy with bright orange hair. His arms were crossed and he wore a particularly annoyed expression, the corners of his mouth turned down and his eyebrows pulled together. His hat was planted firmly on his head, and his coat was draped around his shoulders. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Dazai.

"Oi, what are you doing?" he growled. "We're supposed to be working."

Dazai perked up. "Oh my, you two haven't met, have you?" he cried in exaggerated surprise. "Odasaku, meet Chuuya. Chuuya, meet Odasaku." He swung his arms toward each man in wide, clumsy motions. Oda suspected that the alcohol was already getting to his brain. Nevertheless, he nodded slightly at Chuuya, and the latter reluctantly returned the gesture.

Dazai gasped. "You two would get along so well! You have so much in common! Your red hair. Your odd sense of morality. Your love for children!" he paused. "But I suppose we could include Mori-san in that last point, though of course for very different reasons."

Oda covered his face with his hand to hide his chagrin and to simultaneously smother the smile that threatened to spread itself across his face.

Chuuya pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's drunk, isn't he," he muttered darkly.

Dazai turned to Chuuya, pouting. "That's impossible, I just had one glass!" he contradicted, his words slurring slightly.

He then spread his arms, his eyes wide. "And, of course, your most important similarity is your shared affection for me!" he sang.

At this, the redheaded teenager stiffened. "What are you talking about?" he spat. He turned to Oda and repeated, "What is he talking about?"

Before Oda had a chance to respond, Dazai hugged himself and continued, "I'm flattered that there are two whole people worrying about me, but there's really no need! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Oda and Chuuya exchanged skeptical glances; the latter's still had traces of irritation. The current state that Dazai was in was not helping his argument in the slightest.

"Really, you shouldn't worry. Don't get attached to me, though I know that my good looks and wonderful sense of humor may make it difficult." Dazai's face suddenly changed, taking on a darker expression. His hollow eyes dragged between the two men. "I'm serious. It's not a good idea."

There was a beat of tense silence as the three of them looked at each other in varying degrees of discomfort. Neither of the redheads knew how to respond to Dazai's sudden mood swing.

It was Chuuya who finally broke the silence, making a sharp tsk sound and stepping around the desk to grab Dazai roughly by the arm.

"We're supposed to be heading to the data vault, you idiot. In case you don't remember, we're supposed to be working on a case." He noticed the empty cup. "One glass? You're almost as much of a lightweight as I am."

He glanced toward Oda. "Not that I would know, of course."

Oda raised his eyebrows in amusement, but made no reply.

Chuuya dragged Dazai from his seat, pulling the brunette's arm around his shoulders to support his staggering. He nodded again to Oda as the two of them slowly walked out the doorway and into the hall.

Oda sat for a few minutes longer, staring thoughtfully at the empty glass on the desk. He could still hear Chuuya's voice echoing in the hallway.

"You're stupid, you know that? You know you're still going to have to work, even if you're drunk. It'll take a little while for the alcohol to get out of your system. We're heading to the data vaults now to check on the security footage of the other night. You'd better make yourself useful up there, or I'll have to beat some sense into you."

There was a pause.

"...I've been thinking about last night. You'd better not kill yourself, you know. One day, I'm going to kill you, so you're not allowed to do that before I can."

More quietly, he grumpily added, "I sure hope Ane-san is happy now."

Oda sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with a slight smile on his face as the sound of their footprints faded.

***Just to be clear, I DO NOT CONDONE UNDERAGE DRINKING! For all of you who are under drinking age, don't be like Dazai! Be responsible!

But anyway, I have always wondered at the similarities between Oda and Chuuya. It seems as though Dazai was naturally attracted to a certain genre of people during his time in the Port Mafia.

I like to think that Oda and Dazai had gotten to know each other relatively earlier on, and had the chance to really deepen their friendship before Oda…you know…

Dazai drinks regularly at Bar Lupin by the time he's 18, but I liked the idea of Oda grudgingly introducing him to alcohol. In my mind, Oda's kinda like an older cousin who has no clue what to do with his teenage relative. He has a sense of responsibility, but at the same time wants to give others some level of freedom to choose for themselves.

But yeah, I guess in my mind, the Port Mafia is like one big, dysfunctional family. Kouyou is the aunt who's only interested in family affairs for the gossip. And Mori is definitely the creepy uncle/grandpa.