Chapter 1

Peacefully lounging in his bed and basking in the warmth from his comforter Nakahara Chuuya finds himself drifting off to the warm embrace of sleep. After all, it's far too early in the morning to be up. Without a doubt the only person who could or would choose to be up at this hour is Kunikida. Shit— Kunikida will kill me if I'm late again Chuuya thinks. He throws off his covers and dashes to the shower in a panic.

After a quick shower he emerges from the wash room and puts on his outfit. It takes longer than he'd like but that is the difficulty with being incredibly stylish and wearing a lot of accessories. Pausing momentarily when he reaches for the choker he wears with almost every outfit.

His thoughts drift towards a memory of a boy with brown fluffy hair and a smirk that could make the devil himself feel insecure. Shaking his head he displaces the thoughts and puts the choker around his neck.

He grabs the pot of coffee he made yesterday morning and pours it into one of his thermoses he's designated to hold the precious treasure that is the drink. Then he runs out the door towards the bus barely making it in time.

The bus arrives at his stop after about 15 minutes. 15 minutes too late that is. Chuuya mentally gripes to himself. After taking a long drink of his coffee opens the doors to the A.D.A. or otherwise known as the Armed Detective Agency. He walks up the stairs mentally preparing himself for the lecture he's confident Kunikida will be prepared to deliver.

Pleasantly he's first greeted by Oda which is a rather nice surprise seeing as the man is almost always at least 2 hours late because of his kids being difficult in the mornings.

"Morning Nakahara. Sleep alright?" Oda asked

"Like the dead" I replied, "any cases today?"

"Not sure, you should ask Ranpo, I've been busy filling out the paperwork for the last five cases he solved." He shot back

"Knowing him he'll just use it as a chance to make me buy him sweets"

"Never known unless you ask. Anyways best be back to work. I think Kunikida been wanting to talk to you as well" He winces at that

"Talk to ya later Oda"

"See you Chuuya"

Reflecting upon the knowledge that Kunikida is indeed wanting to talk to him, Chuuya decides it best to head to his station and get some paperwork done in hopes of sparring himself from a full blown rant about the importance of timeliness.

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Dazai is drifting, he's been drifting for a long time, he wonders if he's died, if this is death. If he only had the ability he thinks he'd be overflowing with joy. He twitches. Ah, just a dream then. A shame really but he'll end up dead one day so no use getting so upset about the loss of the rare good dream.

Shifting he sits up from his bed and stretches feeling his muscles pop and crack like an old man. He did an extra training session before he went to bed last night and his body is aching as a result.

Mentally sighing at what was shaping up to be a rather dull day he steps into the shower and then gets dressed and steps out of the apartment Mori provided him with.

He ignores the small bubble of frustration he feels from being so reliant on Mori, the man wouldn't let him live somewhere unmonitored anyways. He decides after some consideration to simply walk the 5 blocks to the Port Mafia headquarters known as Mori-Corp. A silly name really, how Mori came up with it with a straight face is beyond him.

As he enters the building many of the grunts that occupy the lower floors quickly scatter, spouting some kind of excuse to the air about having more work or prior engments. In moments like this he can't keep himself from wishing Oda was still here to get drinks with him or Ango to sigh while he complains about the damn slug.

He wonders how his dog's been doing lately. When he came up with the plan to hide Chuuya from the Port Mafia it had half baked at best, born from a vague feeling and nothing else. He had tried his best to shove such a thing out of his mind but it kept circling around his head until he gave and executed his plan and then what's done is done.

Not to say he regrets it. Anything but really. After all that's happened after Chuuya left he's never been more glad that the man left when he did.

The sight of a familiar hallway he's seen a million times shakes him out of his musing. To untrained eyes this hallway would seem the same as every other but to Dazai's eyes it would be impossible to miss the way the hardwood was slightly less scuffed than everywhere else, or how the wallpaper didn't peel, how areas on the wall the would normal be slightly lightened from sun where still holding their color as if new.

Mori's office is at the end of this hallway. Seems his feet carried him here without being told. Not necessarily a bad thing seeing as Dazai was ment to check in with Mori anytime he entered work.

He was the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia, the golden child of the underworld. Mori always said he worked best alone, Dazai agreeded, it was perhaps one of the few things they truly saw eye to eye on.

"Dazai! Good morning, wonderful to see you." Mori greets him as animatedly as ever. Like he was talking to an old friend, not his employee. "It's good your here early today, I've got some field work for you"

Dazai stands there quietly, a response is not anticipated nor expected. Mori only gives the illusion of such niceties. What Dazai thinks doesn't matter either way this is an order. To refuse it is an impossibility.

"There have been reports of a man eating white tiger in the slums of Yokohama" he continues "I want you to investigate it and report back to me 'kay"

Odd. That's a new one Dazai thinks. Of all the field missions he's done very few have been mere intel gathering. Oh well Dazai mentally thinks, just makes the job easier.

He nods.

"Good boy, now off you go" Mori dismisses him with his usual smirk, practically oozing with false humor, such is the way with that rat bastard Dazai thinks darkly.

As he's walking out of the building and towards the safe house where he keeps his motorcycle he allows his mind to once more drift to the hope that perhaps this can be the day he'll finally die.