The door shook with exertion.

Fists pounded, as the frame threatened to fall.

How could he have been so careless?

Usually, Dazai would have already switched locations by now, but with Chuuya being so injured, it had complicated things and made him hesitant to move so quickly with Chuuya still being as weakened as he was from Meursault. Something that had been partially his fault.

He needed to make a plan and make one fast if they were both going to make it out of here alive.

It was funny how whenever he was with Chuuya, he tended to seek ways to live rather than die.

Thousands of plans flitted through his mind's eye, as he sought one that would result in his desired outcome.

They were in the middle of the woods, which meant that the party that was checking this cabin had to be somewhere between four to six people.

Calling themselves the police had to be a cover.

After all, they were an easy scapegoat, in case the cabin happened to be housed by regular citizens. In reality, judging from the force of the pounding and the splintering of the wood, as the door began to break apart piece by piece, these people had to be ability users. However, their allegiance was not one that Dazai was sure of, as he wasn't quite as well versed on French ability user organizations, having never seen the point.

After all, these ability users couldn't be under Fyodor, or at least the chances were very low, seeing as he was dead, leaving his people in a probable scramble for power against each other. They'd be too busy for Dazai right now. Perhaps later a problem would be posed, but for now, the wound was still too fresh to have scabbed over enough so that they could return to the fight just yet.

However, regardless of whether they were assassins contracted by Meursault, a whole new dangerous group of French ability users, or something else, they were his and Chuuya's enemies who sought them bodily harm. So, that's how Dazai would see them. No matter their true allegiance, it didn't matter. There was simply no time to work out such irrelevant details and semantics.

When they finally managed to break down that door, which Dazai knew they would soon, he and Chuuya would have to be prepared to face unknown abilities, so to do that Dazai would have to make sure that-

His thoughts trailed off, as Chuuya suddenly spoke up, a faint red hue lighting up his body.

"If you go now, I should be able to hold them off," Chuuya began to approach the door, his body tensing with the anticipation of a fight, despite the slight pained shaking of his limbs and the fact that he was hovering above the ground, giving way to the fact that it was still too painful for him to walk unassisted.

"Wow, I knew Chuuya was stupid, but I didn't realize he was that stupid! If I left, then there goes the chance that they'll end my miserable existence!"

Dazai made his way over to Chuuya, swinging one arm behind his back, while the other swept under his legs, as they buckled, in response to Dazai's ability.

To Chuuya's disdain, he was suddenly held in a bridal carry.

"You fucking bastard! Let go of me!"

Chuuya twisted in Dazai's grip, in a desperate attempt to escape

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of a response, Dazai just carried him behind the singular living room table, before setting him down with a smirk.

As soon as Dazai released Chuuya from his grip, he scrambled a short distance away in a desperate attempt to regain his dignity, before forcing himself into a sitting position, as Dazai flipped the table before them, using it for a makeshift barrier.

"Pick me up again and I'll kill you," Chuuya threatened, turning his flaming gaze upon Dazai.

Dazai laughed, "but Chuuya! It's so fun to carry you around with how little you are," Chuuya smacked Dazai's arm who in turn looked at him with big, betrayed eyes, placing a hand over his heart.

"Chuuya, how could you?"

"Fuck you, Dazai."

"Your plan was so stupid anyway, hatrack," Dazai teased, before doing a terrible imitation of Chuuya, "oi! My name's Chuuya, I'm one-hundred-sixty centimeters short and a huge idiot! So, I'm going to stand in front of a door, without any backup, with an unsure number of people trying to kill me, while not even being able to stand on my own without using my ability to make me float like a tinny, little, pretty princess!"

"Dazai, if you don't shut up right the fuck now-"

"Chuuya, Chuuya," Dazai protested, "they would've gunned us down immediately without a cover! It's honestly a miracle that you've managed to survive without me. But alas! You need not worry, for I have a brilliant plan in mind!"

"Oh yeah?" Chuuya sneered, "And what exactly is your oh-so-brilliant plan?"

The sound of the pounding knocks increased in volume, another unnatural crack appearing on the door. It wouldn't be much longer before their opponents made it in.

"Well, it's practically foolproof!" Dazai exclaimed, throwing his arms out excitedly, in grand contrast to the harrowing situation that they were currently in. "When those ability users," Dazai paused to see if the fact that he was calling them ability users rather than police had caught Chuuya by surprise, but he seemed entirely unfazed, as he impatiently eyed Dazai, waiting for him to finish talking.

Good.

That meant that at least his sense hadn't entirely left him after all he'd gone through during that harrowing escape at Mersault like his strength had. It still didn't make sense why he would tell Dazai to run and cover for him, but that was probably just a fluke. He would try not to worry too much about that show of idiocy.

"Well," Dazai continued, "when they break through the door, I need you to make sure to focus your ability on this table," Dazai tapped the flipped table before them for emphasis, "and make sure that nothing can pass it. That way we'll have a shield, and you won't have to exert too much energy outside of that." A devilish scarlet glint haunted Dazai's eyes, "I, on the other hand, will make sure that these people are properly disposed of."

At that moment the door broke down and everything went to shit.

Wood chips went flying everywhere, as the remnants of the door flung from its hinges. Even though Chuuya would always consider Dazai a total idiot, he trusted his plans, no matter how insane they could sometimes be. Immediately, he activated his ability, alighting the table in a red glaring hue. He hated that he couldn't be of more use, in the wake of everything that had happened, but this would just have to make due for the moment until he eventually healed. A future that he was growing more and more impatient for with every unfortunate turn of fate.

Bullets ricocheted off the table at alarming speeds, while Chuuya did his best to direct them back in the general direction that they seemed to stem from, hoping to be somewhat more useful than just a glorified shield.

The deafening sound of a gun echoed through his ears. Back in their mafia days, when Dazai had been rather trigger-happy, Chuuya had once tried to convince Dazai to get a silencer. That had been before he'd gotten used to the sound after having been around it almost every day for years. However, Dazai had instantly refused. He'd said something about the loud, ringing noise bringing more excitement into his life. Which at the time and honestly still today, Chuuya thought was weird, because since when did the loud banging of a gun, right by your ear, spark joy? Still, Chuuya had seen how depressed Dazai had been back then and still saw how it clung to him now, so he'd let the matter go like several others because, at the end of the day, he didn't exactly hate Dazai like he so often said he did.

At the end of the day, Chuuya might even go so far as to say that he wanted him to be happy. So, if something as stupid as a loud gun could bring that into Dazai's life in any shape or form, then he'd decided, back then, that he would bear how the sound made him want to literally jab a screwdriver through his head in order to tune it out.

Of course, after having been in the mafia for so long, Chuuya had eventually gotten used to the noise. Still, the memory, long forgotten until now, somehow managed to spark a warm feeling in his chest that managed to renew his strength, if only for the moment, as he willed his ability to withstand its overuse.

He wondered if the sound of the gun still brought excitement into Dazai's life or if that, just like almost everything else in Dazai's life, had eventually failed him, doing nothing to help fill the void that was Dazai's heart.

He hoped it did.

But honestly, he wasn't sure.

Except, wait a moment… Dazai couldn't have had his own gun on him after having been in prison for who knew how long, which meant that the only way he could've gotten one was if it was one of Chuuya's.

Goddammit. Fucking Dazai.

Distracted by his thoughts, Chuuya was late to realize that one of the ability users had somehow gotten close enough to lay a hand on their table and stare down at them from above, while Dazai's bullets hovered before their body.

His whole body screamed in agony, as he felt Dazai suddenly jerk them both back and a pained groan escaped through his gritted teeth, while bullets imbedded themselves right where they had been mere moments before.

What the fuck?

What kind of ability user was he?

While Dazai was generally considered the brains out of the two, Chuuya was far from being stupid. If he was, he would've been dead a long time ago, nor would he have ever become a Mafia Executive and been good at it. So, it didn't take him very long to come to the conclusion that he was sure Dazai had already met.

This man couldn't manipulate gravity like him or else he would've just ripped the table away from them to get at them instead of making the riskier move of walking right up to it. Especially with how weak Chuuya currently was, it would've been easy after a few attempts. Something that pained him to admit. However, the fact that he'd chosen the halted bullets as his weapon, hinted that he could manipulate metal. It was the most logical conclusion to draw. However, Chuuya would still be sure to be wary just in case he was wrong because one could never be too careful when facing such an opponent. Especially being as injured as he was.

A feral light was brewing in the man's eyes and it was then that Chuuya realized that his other four comrades lay dead on the floor of the cabin, blood oozing from the fatal wounds inflicted by Dazai's impeccable aim.

A hole was flung in his theory at that, however, because if they had been shot dead by bullets, then why hadn't this man saved them? Unless, he was entirely focused on himself, in which case they'd have to be even more careful because a person who only valued their own life and no others was an incredibly dangerous one at that. This meant that the feral light in this man's eyes wasn't because he mourned the loss of his comrades. Rather, he was scared of losing his own life as they had.

He was only looking out for himself.

That wasn't the only obstacle, however, because this man seemed to have a tight grip on his ability, which made going up against him all the more dangerous.

Dazai's bullets were useless and Chuuya was already basically incapacitated himself. Along with that, this man was desperate to survive, being deadset on killing them both, so that he could live to see another sunrise.

Perhaps, they could spin that to their advantage though. People often made mistakes when overcome with emotion. Still, they had to find an opening, something that seemed far and few in between now that the cover of their safety was gone.

Whatever they decided to do, they'd have to figure it out quickly.

Why couldn't things ever go as planned?

The man stretched a hand towards the cabin's kitchen, sending an array of knives soaring towards the pair. Desperately, Chuuya stretched a hand outwards, reaching within himself and forcing his ability into use once more, despite the emaciated state of his body. The knives trembled between the two, as they fought for control.

Sweat bedded in Chuuya's hairline and he clenched his teeth in concentration.

"Dazai," he gritted out, desperate for the idiot to just figure this out already.

Upon hearing no response, Chuuya swatted at the space next to him, while still keeping most of his concentration on keeping the knives from stabbing the both of them, only to find empty air.

The fuck?

Where the hell was he?

Had he just up and fucking left?

Thankfully, regardless of whatever Dazai was doing, the opposing ability user didn't seem to notice nor care, being much too focused on his battle of wills against Chuuya to take notice of the bastard.

Chuuya's hold on the knives began to slip, as the other ability user began to overpower him. Anger coursed through his veins at the feeling of such uselessness. Usually, he'd have finished this in seconds, but the damn prison-break at Meursault had wrecked his body.

Chuuya wanted to believe that Dazai had a plan while he was just barely holding back the other ability user, but another part of him whispered that Dazai had finally realized just how completely useless Chuuya was and abandoned him yet again.

However, Chuuya had to give him credit, because Dazai was never one to run away from a challenge, so Chuuya wasn't surprised to see him, as he suddenly seemed to materialize behind the ability user, ironically holding one of Chuuya's throwing knives in his hand that he must have swiped off of him just like the gun. Even though Dazai was using it to save their lives, he still found himself feeling slightly irritated that he thought it was okay to just take his things. Then again, this was Dazai. Chuuya doubted he'd ever understand the concept of boundaries when it came to stealing other people's things.

He watched as Dazai grabbed the man's shoulder in order to cancel out his ability, before mercilessly slitting his throat.

The man's body fell to the floor, joining his comrades.

Chuuya finally let go of his hold on the knives, letting them clatter to the ground, as he in turn slumped back against the wall behind him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, from the exertion that the past few minutes had put on his body at such short notice after all that it had already endured.

"You can't fall asleep just yet, Slug," Chuuya heard Dazai's voice sound from above him.

"I wasn't sleeping you idiot," Chuuya retorted, lowering his hand and glaring up at Dazai above him with fire in his eyes. "In fact, I'm doing great."

In order to assure him of this Chuuya forced himself to stand and take a few convincing steps forwards towards Dazai, which resulted in him almost immediately falling over, as a tidal wave of pain crashed through his senses.

Generally, Chuuya's pain tolerance was pretty high.

However, he had been drowned, almost lost himself to corruption, then almost died because of those two things combined, had a wound cauterized, was dehydrated, in desperate need of food, and mentally and emotionally drained next to all of that after having just exerted his ability once again while he was still recovering from everything else.

However, just before his face could make impact with the floor, Dazai reached out and grabbed his arm with one hand, while grabbing the small of his back with his other, as he lifted a defiant Chuuya up in his arms.

"Looks like I'll just have to carry you again, hatrack," Dazai teased and Chuuya wanted to kill him for his taunting tone, or at least snark back, but he was exhausted and couldn't keep his weakened body awake any longer, as he finally succumbed to rest.

They couldn't stay here any longer. That was a conclusion that Dazai had reached almost immediately in the aftermath of the struggle, as he lay Chuuya down on the old rickety couch, before digging around in a small storage cabinet until he found a decently-sized backpack that he deemed suitable for storing necessities. He was quick to fill it with some random cans of food that definitely had to be expired and filled the several water bottles that he could find, before shoving them in as well. Finally, he stripped the cabin's bed of its blankets, so that the two would be able to stay somewhat warm while they search for a new place to lay low and hid a few of Chuuya's knives in the crevices of the bag.

In the time that it took to do all of that, about half an hour had passed and Dazai knew that they'd have to go now or it'd be too late. Sooner or later, someone would notice that these five had yet to report back and would send more to investigate. If that happened, who knew how many would get sent? While Dazai did actually have a general idea, he didn't want to stick around to see if he was right or not, especially with the shape that Chuuya was currently in. So, pulling the backpack over his shoulders, he lifted Chuuya up in his arms, ignoring the slightly exhausted tremors that ran through them at the overuse of having been put under so much strain recently, and let his snores assure him that he was alright.

"You're so heavy for being so short," Dazai grumbled under his breath, as he made his way out of the cabin and started off into the darkened woods, as the moon and stars shone down from above.