Chapter 6: Words Cut Deep, Actions Speak Volumes, but Eyes Hold the Truth
Chuuya went home after checking in with Mori-san, as per Kouyou-nee's and surprisingly, Akutagawa's request. The black-haired mafioso seemed inordinately worried about him, but that was a given, since he'd just been healed from the aftereffects of Corruption. He flexed his hand absentmindedly, vaguely remembering how it had felt using his ability to tear into the enemy. It had, however minutely, been exhilarating to see the fear in the enemy's faces. Of course, that had all faded away into darkness as Corruption took over, his world reduced to nothing as he struggled to stay the destruction of his own body.
Shaking off the morbid thoughts, he entered his apartment, taking off his hat and coat before immediately heading into the shower. Fifteen minutes later, he emerged, toweling his hair dry before stopping short at the sight of a certain bandaged freak sitting on his sofa.
"Dazai." He growled, leaving off drying his hair as he snapped the towel at the brown locks which ducked under the blow. Said man turned his head and fixed him with a faux smile, eyes pinning him in place as he greeted him.
"Yo, slug. Your tastes haven't changed a single bit." He gestured to the extensive wine cupboard that housed Chuuya's most expensive wines. "I'm not surprised to see that you've added more bottles to your collection. You've got at least, what, fifty bottles in there?"
Chuuya scoffed, coming around to stand next to the sofa. "I've got 68 bottles in there, bandage freak. Not that you'd bother to count." He looked towards his door, then groaned. "Why the hell did you find the need to destroy my lock, mackerel?"
Dazai shrugged. "It was simpler than knocking and waiting. Now, Chuuya," a serious look entered his eyes. "Care to explain why you felt the need to activate Corruption?"
"What, like you have any say in what I do, bandage waster?" Chuuya huffed, not missing the shift in his partner's demeanor. "It was because there was another gravity manipulator on site. Come to think of it," Chuuya frowned, recalling the files that he'd read before the mission. "None of the reports ever mentioned him. Must have been called in at the last minute or been kept under wraps good enough that our spies never found him. He was good, though," he admitted, lips curling down as he remembered the blue aura that had surrounded his knives and wrestled for control with him before the metal gave under the immense pressure put on them. Those were his favorite knives, too...
"He must have been, if you couldn't defeat them the normal way," Dazai snarked back, avoiding the punch that came his way with ease. He caught it, forcing Chuuya to face him fully, an indiscernible look on his face. "That still doesn't answer why you thought it would be a good idea to activate Corruption without me present." Dark eyes bore into blue ones, the brunet looming over the redhead.
"Shit – let go of me, you idiot," Chuuya pulled away, horribly aware of their proximity to each other. "Stop – fuck it –just because you're the only one who can stop Corruption doesn't mean you get to decide when and where I use it, shitty mackerel." He blustered at his once partner now turned sworn enemy, trying to find that calmness that he had earlier because he was not drunk enough to deal with this shit, okay? "You can't – you can't just walk back into my life pretending nothing's wrong, nothing's changed between us, as if you didn't defect from the Mafia, as if - " He cut himself off, reluctant to voice the thought that's running through his head. It didn't matter, since Dazai completed it for him anyway.
"As if we were still together." Slender fingers tugged on his chin, forcing blue eyes to meet with brown ones. Chuuya opened his mouth to spit out another curse, only to be cut short by lips covering his own. He froze, unresponsive to the kiss as Dazai pushed forward, another hand coming up to cup his head as the taller man pulled Chuuya closer. A flick of a tongue against his lips finally brought Chuuya back from his stupor.
He reacted. Violently.
A block away from Chuuya-san's apartment, Akutagawa ran up the street alongside the Jinko, both panting hard for air even as their legs pumped as fast as they could.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me Dazai-san was gone, Jinko?!" Akutagawa yelled as he ran up the stairs to his superior's apartment, fighting past the pain that threatened to make his lungs collapse and struggle for air. Beside him, the Jinko shrunk back, brilliant purple-yellow eyes downcast in shame. "I thought he was off trying to commit suicide! He always runs off in the middle of missions to test out whatever new method he's come across, but it didn't cross my mind to check until I found his phone on his table!" The Jinko's half-assed explanation did nothing to reassure Akutagawa, and he made a note to fling him harder against the wall the next time they sparred.
As they reached Chuuya-san's apartment, Akutagawa slumped to the wall for a moment, breathing hard as he recovered from the run. Moving past him, the Jinko reached for the door handle, only to jerk back as it slammed open, a red glow covering it. A familiar voice rang through the air.
"GET. THE. FUCK. OUT." A body was flung through the open doorway, the Jinko yelping and diving to the floor to avoid it while Akutagawa blinked. Sparing the figure a quick look, Akutagawa poked his head into the doorway of the apartment, only to rear back and call Rashoumon to block the knife that flung itself his way. From inside the apartment, he could see Chuuya-san readying another throwing knife, one hand pressed against his mouth, his blue eyes oddly shiny. He froze like a deer in headlights as those eyes focused on him.
"Akutagawa?" His superior's voice sounded hoarse, more tired than it had been earlier in the early afternoon when he'd left Headquarters. Akutagawa hesitantly nodded, lowering Rashoumon from the shield he'd hastily put up. The redhead blinked at him, before refocusing on the man that struggled to his feet behind the black-clad mafioso. With a jolt, Akutagawa noticed the tan coat and brown hair, his suspicions confirmed as Dazai-san lifted his head, sporting a rapidly developing black eye.
"You," A knife brandished itself in Dazai-san's direction, "Stay the fuck away from me. Akutagawa, make sure he goes away and doesn't come back. And you, Nakajima, wasn't it?" The Jinko nodded his head rapidly in the face of the sharp knife pointed his way. "Keep the bastard busy with whatever work the Agency needs him to do, or at least give me a call if he escapes. Capiche?" The Shin Soukoku bowed their heads in assent, cowed by the angry executive. Chuuya-san sighed, bringing his hand up from his mouth to scrub at the rest of his face. "Good. Now, if you would all excuse me, I'm going to sleep." The door slammed shut in their faces, the red glow fading.
Weretiger and Mad Dog exchanged furtive looks with each other, then looked at the bandaged man who was still staring at the door, his face a mask. Without a second glance, they each took hold of a bandaged arm, and started dragging Dazai away from the apartment. Dazai flailed a little, caught off guard as he struggled to get his feet beneath him. "Wha-?"
"This is all your fault, Dazai-san," Atsushi cut him off, heterochromatic eyes determinedly ignoring the plaintive ones turned up towards him. "If you'd just kept your distance, Chuuya-san wouldn't have thrown you out like that." He paused, then reiterated his words. "No, he definitely still would've, but maybe less forcefully. And maybe without the knives." The younger Shin Soukoku fell silent as the older one spoke up.
"As of today, please avoid talking to Chuuya-san again. Or try to meet him. Or try to communicate with him through mail or any weird ways that you can think of." Akutagawa stopped dragging his former superior as they reached the stairs. "You of all people would know that Chuuya-san needs his rest, and he's not going to get it with you around. Therefore," the Shin Soukoku dropped Dazai on the top of the stairs, Atsushi joining in with the last order, "Please stay away from Chuuya-san!"
Dazai opened his mouth to complain, but under the combined glare of his subordinates, he merely closed it and settled for a frown. Since the two young partners didn't budge from their position, he got back up and walked down the stairs, mind swirling with information as he half-formed conclusions and strategies while being flanked by the duo. He'd done something wrong, that was for sure. Chuuya hadn't acted like that since a long time back in the Mafia when he'd been arguing left and right with Dazai over his treatment of his subordinates. That time had ended with Dazai being kicked out as well, too, but he still managed to reconcile with Chuuya a few hours later, given that they'd been closer then.
His mind went back to the kiss. It hadn't been as pleasurable as he'd thought it would be, since Chuuya didn't reciprocate it at all. A tinge of regret worked itself into his mind as he recalled Chuuya's watery eyes and shaking voice – he'd accidentally pushed the hatrack over the edge. With a mental nod to himself, he swore that he'd make it up to Chuuya somehow. Maybe he'd buy a hat for the petite mafia. Or a bottle of wine.
Chuuya collapsed onto the sofa, limbs feeling like overcooked noodles while his brain felt fried with all that happened. A tear made its way down his face as he tipped his head back against the headrest, gritting his teeth as he held back from shedding more tears.
Oh gods, Dazai had kissed him. If that didn't make things worse, he'd been tempted to push back, to forget about the past and to just focus on the present, to fool himself into thinking that Dazai cared, that he meant something to Dazai. It made the truth even more painful, because Dazai didn't care about anything. He cared about nothing, except for that one person who he'd left the Mafia for, Oda Sakunosuke. A choked laugh made its way past his lips as he bent forward clutching at his stomach, reveling in the idea that he was seriously competing with a dead man for Dazai's attention. How pathetic of himself.
Caught up in his self-mockery, Chuuya never heard the blow coming from behind. At the last second, he saw the reflection of the intruder in the TV across from him, but it was too late – a sound crack later, the mafioso slumped bonelessly to the floor. The intruder came around the sofa, poking warily at the unconscious man to ascertain he was out, then pulled out a syringe with an unidentifiable liquid and injected it into his wrist. Job half done, they pulled the redhead up into a sitting position, one limp hand slung over a black-clad shoulder, before they were both swallowed by a dark purplish portal.
The apartment was left silent, no signs of a struggle to indicate the kidnapping that had occurred. On the coffee table, a phone buzzed as Kouyou sent over a message telling Chuuya that he'd been given the week off and that she'd ordered that no one was to disturb him during his recovery. Another message came through to tell him to rest well, before the phone's screen went dark and silent.