Pain.

Chuuya's eyes shot open.

His body felt as though it'd been engulfed in flame, while something that tasted like dirt rested in his mouth. Definitely, not the way he wanted his day to be going. A scream tore itself from his throat, as he desperately tried to pull away from the source, but something or perhaps someone was pinning him to the ground, trapping him in a world of fire. Whatever it was that had been placed in his mouth snapped almost immediately and distantly he recognized that he'd bitten down on his tongue shortly thereafter, filling his mouth with a familiar metallic tang.

A mix of confusion and anger swirled through his mind, as he tried to figure out what was happening and why he couldn't use Tainted to escape.

Was this hell? Had he finally gotten what he deserved?

Yet that didn't make any sense, because if he didn't dream, then why would he get an afterlife either? No, he had to be alive.

Still, that left the question of who was doing this?

Through the distressing pain, Chuuya could barely organize his thoughts, but his blood still ran mafia black. He was trained to handle situations like these. So, he forced himself to turn his focus away from the pain and onto his surrounding, in order to figure out just what was going on.

He was able to make out brown eyes, wavy brown hair, and a somehow familiar cool calculating expression staring down at him from above.

They had to be the one doing this and they just looked so familiar. Still, Chuuya just couldn't quite place it.

He racked his brain searching for an answer, but another wave of that fiery, hot pain ripped another scream from his mouth, distracting him, as white filled his vision and his nerves burned

He coughed and felt something wet and sticky spray from his lips. Belatedly he realized it was his own blood, causing his struggles to renew in strength, despite the pain that it left him in.

He didn't like feeling powerless and out of control. He needed to have his autonomy back. He needed to escape. This person was going to kill him if he didn't.

Who was doing this? Even better, why were they doing this?

Again, Chuuya racked his brain for the answer, but the blinding pain was all-consuming making it difficult for him to figure it out until the person said something that gave him pause.

"If you keep moving like that Hatrack, you're only going to make it worse."

Hatrack. Only Dazai would call him that.

Dazai… was Dazai the one trying to kill him?

"Dazai please… fuck… Dazai stop," Chuuya wheezed each word, sending daggers down his throat.

He began to panic, as he realized that if Dazai kept touching him in this state; kept hurting him in this state, then there really was no hope of getting free. As long as Dazai had a hold of him, Chuuya couldn't use his ability and even though Dazai was much scrawnier than Chuuya was in comparison, he'd grown up in the mafia too and knew how to hold his own, especially with Chuuya being as injured as he was.

While Chuuya was a stubborn individual, he also understood when he was outmatched, and this was one of those cases.

He hated begging, but it seemed to be his only option.

"Let me… go… shitty Dazai," Chuuya took in a couple of ragged gasps, which turned into another scream as searing pain shot through him again. "What… the fuck… are you… doing?"

"One more time and then it's over," Chuuya heard Dazai's voice sound above him, causing him to increase his struggles even more. Was this it? Was Dazai going to finally kill him? Why? What had he done wrong?

It was like being stabbed by Shirase all over again. The stinge of the betrayal being much sharper than the actual blade itself.

"Dazai, no. Stop… please."

Throughout his life, Chuuya had always held a rather interesting relationship with Dazai. When they'd first met at fifteen they had come together as competitive rivals. Then, after the betrayal of the Sheep, they became unlikely allies, which had then turned into Double Black and eventually developed into something… more. For a time. However, whatever that could've turned into was destroyed the moment Dazai turned his back on the mafia; turned his back on Chuuya.

Sometimes when Chuuya was alone, he would wonder what would've happened if Dazai had asked him to come with him. Would he have turned his back on Kouyou? On Hirotsu? On Akutagawa?

He wanted to say yes, just to spite Dazai for leaving without him. Yet, after a few drinks he always came to the same conclusion that no, he wouldn't have left, because deep down, he felt like he didn't deserve to be in the light. Not after all the lives that he had taken. Not after all of the damage and destruction that he'd brought upon the world by just living in it. Next to that, he would never abandon his family. He'd been on the receiving end of that too many times to ever desire to do that to anyone else.

That was the difference between him and Dazai. Chuuya understood that actions had consequences. Chuuya understood loyalty. Dazai generally just tended to act in his own self-interest.

Still, he thought that despite everything they shared a common bond. That at the end of the day they had some sort of understanding between them.

He thought that Dazai had cared or at least cared as much as was possible for someone like him. However, it appeared that was not the case and so, as he'd recognized before, it was just like he was being stabbed with Shirase's poisoned blade all over again, except Dazai's weapon was much more lethal having come from the hand of a true demon.

He wondered where he'd gone wrong. When their playful hatred had turned so real for Dazai, that he had plans to kill him. Honestly, Chuuya didn't know, but he wished he did. That was probably one of the things he would regret most, losing someone he had considered his closest friend, as sick and twisted as their relationship could sometimes get. He loved Dazai and a part of him wished that they could've become more like they'd started to before Dazai had left the Port Mafia, but those were only dreams, something that Chuuya could never obtain and so he would have to settle for never knowing. He could only do what he could with the hand he'd been dealt.

At least a death at the hands of Dazai Osamu meant that he could die as himself. That was worth something.

One last vision of searing white flashed before his gaze before everything faded to black and Chuuya felt himself drifting off into that realm of nothingness.

Perhaps he could finally rest.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Chuuya awoke to the sensation of a firm mattress underneath him, blankets restricting his movements, stiff muscles, aches all over his body, and a painfully dry throat. A grandfather clock rested against the far wall, the echo of its hands reverberating around the room, while old wooden walls surrounded him.

For a moment confusion consumed him, as he tried to figure out where he was and how he'd gotten here, when suddenly all the memories of previous events came flooding back, making him feel like he was drowning all over again.

Dazai had been about to kill him? Why was he here? Why was he still alive?

No matter what had happened though, Chuuya knew one thing. He had to get out of here.

He didn't know where he was nor could he entirely remember how he had ended up in this situation in the first place. The last thing that he could recall was that he had been on a mission for Mori, investigating… something? He quite honestly couldn't quite recall what that mission was for, which sent a feeling of unease unfurling in his gut. After that, he'd fallen into this hell: drowning, corruption, Dazai trying to kill him, and just pretty much everything, in general, going to shit.

It was just too weird. Too much.

He already had enough missing memories, he didn't want nor need anymore.

Carefully Chuuya pushed himself up into a sitting position, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. So far so good. With the exception of maybe a rib or two, nothing felt broken so he should be able to walk out of here.

At least that's what he thought before he actually tried standing up and taking a step.

Immediately, nausea overcame him, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his vision faded to black.

He blinked his eyes open to find himself sprawled out on the floor.

"Dammit," he rasped through his parched throat, struggling to push himself to his knees, before falling back against the side of the bed. He was just so angry. At Dazai. At his weakness. At everything.

He had no clue where he was. He couldn't remember the past several weeks? Months? He wasn't sure. Dazai had tried to kill him. Everything hurt and he wasn't able to escape.

The door to the room creaked open, as his attempted murderer made his way into the room.

"Chuuya! You're finally awake!" Dazai placed a dramatic hand against his chest, as his face shone with mock relief. "It was so annoying having to listen to your endless snoring, you know. I should record it for you, you sound like an old station wagon! I even dragged you all the way here, it took me miles to find this old cabin, which you're lucky I did, or who knows what would've happened. You must be so grateful, I've saved your life yet again, I mean-"

"The fuck are you talking about? You tried to kill me." Chuuya's voice came out low and raspy, as red-hot anger flooded through his veins, while he watched Dazai try to play the hero.

At Chuuya's words, Dazai's expression flickered from one of surprise and regret for only the briefest of moments, before the mask came back on.

"You're so funny Chuuya, I didn't try to kill you, I saved you. In fact, you should be very grateful to me. Without me, you'd be dead."

"You attacked me," Chuuya protested, "in the woods. I saw it happen with my own eyes Dazai. Don't fucking lie to me."

At that Dazai laughed. The bastard actually laughed.

Chuuya's fists clenched.

"I was cauterizing your wounds. Chuuya's such an idiot. This is why I should do all the thinking in our relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if your brain was the size of a cherry!"

"Oh," was all Chuuya could bring himself to say at the realization, because that actually did make sense, now that he thought about it. He lifted his shirt to examine where a nasty burn covered his chest, aligning with Dazai's words. It would probably scar, not that Chuuya could really bring himself to care because a scar was much better than being dead.

Dazai took a few steps forward, reaching his hands under Chuuya's armpits and tossing him a bit roughly back onto the bed.

"The fuck? Get off of me, dumbass!" Chuuya protested, trying to twist away from Dazai's grip, who only let go once Chuuya was sitting securely against the bed frame, watching Dazai with a cold glare.

"So talkative," Dazai mused, "maybe I should put you back under the water."

Put him back under the water…

"What?"

Had that been Dazai? Had Dazai been the one to let him drown? Come to think of it, who else could've? He could vaguely remember Dostoevsky, being stuck with him, which ruled him out. Some random guard in the prison could've, but then how would Dazai have known or been able to save him in time? From what Chuuya could remember from his vague memories upon waking up from the throes of corruption, only the cellblock that he'd been in had been affected, so the whole prison would not have felt the full rage of Arahabaki.

In fact, if he thought back hard enough, he remembered that there had been a voice just before he'd slipped under the treacherous currents, wishing him farewell.

Chuuya's eyes widened and his blood turned to ice, as he met Dazai's gaze.

"It was you. You let me drown."

Dazai frowned, "it was the only way to defeat Fyodor, Chuuya," he shrugged, "regardless it all worked out in the end because look at us! We escaped! I'd call that a win."

"A win?" Chuuya laughed, despite how much it hurt, "you'd call that a fucking win? Dazai, I could've died! I would have died if not by drowning, then by corruption if you hadn't saved me in time. What happened to giving me a choice about letting go to Arahabaki, huh? What the actual fuck! Do you really care so little that you'd sacrifice me like I'm some… some fucking pawn in your stupidass game of chess with Dostoevsky!" His frame racked with coughs, before taking an exasperated breath. "You can't do that to people, Dazai… this is real life with real people . We're not… we're not… this isn't fucking chess! Why can't you just understand that? But I mean, I can't really be surprised can I? I mean all you've ever fucking cared about is yourself. You don't really care about me, or Atsushi, or Kunikida, or Odasaku-"

At the mention of that name, Dazai's expression went dark.

"You shouldn't talk about things you don't know about."

Another laugh spilled from Chuuya's lips, "oh so you did care? About Odasaku? It's good to know you only care about people who are already dead. Did you try killing him too? Is that what happened? Only realizing you cared when it was too late-"

A part of Chuuya knew that he was going too far, but another part of him didn't care. After all, Dazai went too far all the time and where were his consequences? Ethics aside, it was too late to dodge Dazai's fist the moment he noticed it coming for his face, sending his head slamming back into the bedpost, a wound on his forehead re-opening and sending blood dripping down into his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up," soulless black covered the expanse of Dazai's eyes and for a moment Chuuya was startled by his choice of wording, as Dazai was rarely one to cuss. For a moment, he actually almost felt bad and a nagging voice in his head prompted him to apologize, but the anger lurking within him quickly overrode that feeling, leaving the state of the situation no better and only worse.

"Oh so now you see how it feels," Chuuya taunted, "to have other people toy with your emotions. Doesn't feel good does it?"

Dazai took a menacing step forward, towering over Chuuya. Anyone else would've been filled with terror, but not Chuuya because at the end of the day he saw Dazai for who he truly was. Unlike anyone else. He had the unique experience of being able to look into his soul.

"You know you should be careful with how you talk to me," Dazai spoke between clenched teeth. "You were nothing before I brought you into the Mafia. You were a figurehead for an organization that just saw you as a monster , a lab rat , a number . You have me to thank for everything, so act more grateful or maybe I'll just have to leave you too and for good this time. After all, no one ever stays, do they Chuuya? Not when it counts. Not the Sheep, not the Flags, not your subordinates who you endlessly fail to protect. Kouyou will always choose Kyouka over you and honestly," Dazai tapped a finger against his chin, mockingly pretending to be deep in thought, "you've been missing for quite a while Chuuya, and guess what? No one's been looking for you. Absolutely no one . You'll never be first, not when it counts. Even I'd choose others before I'd ever chose you, as you saw when I let you drown back at the prison. Honestly, I didn't know if it would work, but I did it anyway, because why not? I only get to live for so long, so I'd better make it as interesting as possible before I finally find myself facing death. You say you don't want to be used as a pawn Chuuya? Well, maybe that's just what you were put here to be."

Dazai turned and left the room, the echo of the door slamming shut behind him. Meanwhile, Chuuya stared off into space, turning the conversation back over in his mind, while the screams of Arahabaki reverberated in his skull and a single tear slipped down his cheek.