Chuuya was hit with the depth of the situation, as the rag was forced over his face. He was trapped here and there was nothing that he could do about it. He would just have to trust Dazai's disgusting craftiness and hope that it would be enough to get them both out of here alive.

Chuuya would just have to hope that he would be able to withstand what was sure to come.

It irritated him to no end that this was how it always seemed to go. He didn't entirely blame Dazai, but it seemed like whenever they ended up together, his life always fell into that bastard's hands. For once, he just wanted all the cards on his side.

As the gravity of the situation continued to sink in, Chuuya longed for his ability. He longed to be free of these restraints. Anything that would give him any semblance of control over the situation that he found himself currently trapped in.

Next to him, he could hear the woman demanding to know how they'd escaped Meursault. He was entirely unsurprised to hear Dazai just make crude jokes in response.

A hand pressed down on his forehead, leaving him feeling even more incapacitated than he already was.

This was happening and it was happening now.

Chuuya took a deep breath, as he prepared himself for what was to come. He'd been taught how to handle situations like these, being in the Port Mafia. He'd even gone through torture in the past. However, he'd never been waterboarded. So, taking all of his training and past experiences with similar situations, Chuuya forced himself to think of a memory. A good one. To help him focus on something else that was not this. He couldn't let himself panic. He couldn't lose himself. The moment he did that, it would all be over.

The sound of a knob turning sounded from behind him.

They were eighteen and Dazai still had yet to leave the mafia. It was the first time in months that they'd got a day entirely to themselves without interruption.

Water poured from the spout of the hose and coated his forehead. The rag clung to his face. Chuuya forced himself to remain still. He didn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He forced himself to keep his face as relaxed as possible.

They'd decided to take a trip to the arcade. Just the two of them. After several rounds, however, Chuuya found himself screaming at Dazai, calling him out for cheating, after getting beat for the umpteenth time in some kind of battle royale game. Meanwhile, that asshole had the audacity to be bent over laughing, calling him a sore loser.

Water streamed down his face and entered his nose, unforgivingly. Chuuya couldn't help it, as he began to cough, his body desperately trying to rid itself of the fluid that mercilessly infiltrated his system.

Chuuya challenged Dazai to yet another rematch. Except for this time, it was for all or nothing. To no one's surprise, except for Chuuya, Dazai won yet again. Once more, Chuuya found himself cursing the bastard out, which ultimately led to the two being kicked out of the arcade for causing a scene. It hardly bothered them though and they actually found it quite funny, as they made their way through the streets of Yokohama, joking about the exasperated looks on the faces of the arcade's management until they came upon an ice cream parlor.

Everything burned, as the water mercilessly assaulted his body.

It was so dark.

The rag was pressed claustrophobically against his face, making him feel like he was back in that room. Where Dazai's voice had tauntingly wished him a farewell through the intercom. His words echoed through Chuuya's ears, but Chuuya took his resolve and forced such thoughts away. He couldn't think of that right now. He couldn't panic. He needed to focus on his memory. On that good memory. The memory that would keep him grounded and tethered to this world. So, he forced himself to relax, once more, but deep down, he knew his will was starting to give.

Upon reaching the parlor, Chuuya ended up getting vanilla, while Dazai got chocolate. It was pretty good, coming from one of their favorite shops.

Together, the pair dipped into an alleyway, bickering as they finished their cones in the protection of the darkness which consumed the light around them.

His torturer let up for a moment, lifting the end of the rag slightly. Just enough so that Chuuya could forcefully drag in some much-needed air. His throat was raw from the brutal attack that had been wrecked upon it. He was pretty sure he could hear the woman and Dazai conversing about something in the background, but couldn't bring himself to care enough to listen.

All he needed was to focus on not breaking under the pressure.

He needed to stay in control. He couldn't let himself break. He just had to hold on until it was all over.

This couldn't go on forever, after all. At some point, Dazai would save them, and then he would make fun of Dazai for not doing something sooner. They'd fall back into their usual antics and it would be okay. It had to be. So he just needed to hold on until then. He had to trust Dazai, as hard as that could sometimes be because he couldn't do this alone. Not strapped down and lying prone on the table, as his torturer led an onslaught against him. Doing things alone just simply wouldn't be possible with the situation that they'd found themselves in. Chuuya had to trust Dazai to find a way out and Dazai had to trust Chuuya not to break. Once again, he reassured himself that Dazai had things under control and so did he.

It would all be fine. Everything was going to be okay.

He wasn't drowning. He wasn't drowning. He wasn't drowning. He was going to be okay.

The rag was pulled back over his face and suddenly, he couldn't breathe again, as the onslaught of water resumed.

When they'd finished their ice cream, the pair headed back towards Chuuya's apartment. After he'd found out that Dazai called a shipping container his home, Chuuya had made it his mission to make sure that the idiot stayed somewhere a bit more habitable. A place that was currently Chuuya's guest room. He told Dazai that it was because his shipping container was unsanitary and gross. That he didn't want the person who was his partner, living in such a dump and dragging the smell along with him whenever they worked together. That wasn't the real reason though. The real reason was something that Chuuya kept to himself. Something that he still had yet to confess.

Water assaulted his nose, mouth, and ears. Desperation stirred within Chuuya's gut, as he longed to get away. He didn't want this. He needed to escape. He needed to get out of here now, but he couldn't. He simply couldn't. So panicking would do absolutely nothing, except make it worse. He tried his best to remind himself of this, but it was hard to use reason when he was up against an intense assault against this body. Once more, he forced himself to think of better times. He couldn't focus on what was happening to him right now. He couldn't break. He needed to stay calm, as best as he could.

Except that was easier said than done.

The sound of Dazai's voice filtering through the intercom invaded his thoughts once more. Again, he forced it away. He couldn't think of that right now. He needed to focus on that memory instead. That day. That nice day.

Once they were back at Chuuya's apartment, the two competed against each other in a few rounds of Tetris.

It was decided that the loser had to cook dinner.

Somehow, Chuuya finally managed to win and he laughed in Dazai's face, teasing him about how he had finally lost and now had to cook. He kept his teasing up until Dazai actually started cooking and then proceeded to almost burn Chuuya's entire apartment down.

It was at that moment that Chuuya wondered if Dazai had actually lost on purpose, just so that he could be a menace to Chuuya's kitchen. However, he didn't allow himself to follow that train of thought much further, deciding that he'd much prefer to think that he'd won on his own, over believing that Dazai had let him win on purpose.

Frantically, Chuuya had patted out the fire that luckily didn't go beyond a kitchen towel, while Dazai just burst into laughter. So, maybe saying Dazai almost burned down his apartment was a bit of an exaggeration, as the only victim of the fire was, in fact, a measly towel, but Chuuya hardly cared.

It was on that day that Chuuya decided to ban Dazai from ever cooking in his apartment again. So, in the end, in order to combat any more kitchen mishaps, they ended up ordering takeout instead.

Chuuya did his best to keep himself from swallowing too much water, but it was everywhere, penetrating his system and making him think of things he'd rather forget. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Still, he forced himself to keep it together, but it was becoming too much, even for him. Someone who had been trained to hold out against things like this.

The flow of the water never seemed to stop, and he found himself beginning to lose his sense of time. The breaks in between began to feel shorter and shorter, as every moment seemed to blur together into infinity. Against his will, his control finally broke and his body began to thrash, a primal urge filling him to break free of the bondages because he needed to get away. He couldn't do this anymore. It was becoming too much and he just couldn't do it. He couldn't. Why wasn't it over yet? Was Dazai going to let him die this time? Was this how he went out? He tried to reassure himself once more that it would be okay. Except that, it wasn't okay. None of this was. Why was his life only ever just a series of unending misery?

They ended up getting two bowls of soba and some dumplings. It was quite honestly amazing. Perhaps even better than the ice cream that they'd had earlier. After they'd finished their meal and placed their dishes in the sink, Dazai made his way to the door.

"Well, then. Goodbye!"

A red hue entered his singular eye, not covered by the bandages, as he stared down at Chuuya. The walls seemed to distort, making Chuuya feel even smaller than he was. Except… no, no, no. That wasn't right. After they'd finished their soba and dumplings, they'd played some video games, before falling asleep on the couch, together. It'd been nice. So incredibly nice. The perfect memory to keep him grounded.

Except that wasn't what Chuuya saw, as his mind's eye fell into madness, under the stress of the situation that he was in.

Dazai disappeared. Quite literally flickered out of existence, as he left Chuuya all alone.

Laughter echoed in Chuuya's ears.

"You thought I cared about you? Well, look at what good that did for you, Chuuya. Now, you're going to drown. You're going to die. Such a loyal dog, but loyalty has never done anything for you, has it? In the end, everyone still leaves. Even me."

Dazai's voice echoed through the empty room, which began to morph and take shape to resemble that horrible room in Meursault.

Water surrounded him and he looked down to see hands grabbing at his feet, pulling him under.

He couldn't do this.

With that, he broke.

Chuuya could no longer tell what was real and what was fake. The water was everywhere, all-consuming until it was all that he knew. He couldn't hear. He couldn't see. He could only feel it as it pooled in his throat, stabbed at his lungs, lit his nose on fire, and reached for his heart.

He was back in that room. Being pulled under the water while Arahabaki screamed in his mind to let go and give him the reins. Except for this time, there were no other voices, just his own tormented thoughts. Arahabaki was silent, as was his ability. He was lost under the pull of the water with no sense of up or down, unable to move.

He wanted it to stop. He'd never wanted something to stop so bad, but his torturer didn't give in to the shaking of his body nor his muffled pleas that became garbled by the rag and water. The torture just went on and on, until suddenly Chuuya felt consciousness beginning to leave him.

He tried to hold on. He really did, but in the end, it was too much, as his body finally succumbed to the pressure of the torture. In the safety of unconsciousness, where there was naught but blank space, at least he would be protected from the horrors of his current situation. Even if that empty state made him feel less than human. Even if it meant he was giving up, he just couldn't do this anymore.

In the distance, he could've sworn he heard someone screaming his name, but there was nothing left in him to care. Finally, he let himself fade away.

Dazai forced himself to let go of his attachment to Chuuya, despite knowing that the woman probably wouldn't entirely believe his uninterested act, after having presumably seen the video feed of their first escape. Still, Dazai continued to hold his composure, not even breaking it as Chuuya's body began to thrash against the restraints, no matter how much he secretly wanted to.

He couldn't answer the woman and tell her how he'd gotten them out of here the first time, because if he did, then that would mean that they'd have no chance to do it again. So he met her questioning with crude comments to try and irritate her into making a slip-up.

Chuuya would be okay.

He would be able to handle the torture. He had to. He was the strongest person Dazai knew, after all. So, he would be okay.

It was disappointing how wishful thinking seldom seemed to become reality.

Chuuya's body fell limp and Dazai's world froze along with it. He called his name, but Chuuya was entirely unresponsive, while something dark and twisted swirled in the woman's eyes. She didn't let up from the torture, even though Chuuya was obviously unconscious.

Something within him snapped and suddenly, he felt like he was eighteen years old again, seeing Oda's body limp against the floor. The only thing that differentiated them was the barely decipherable rise and fall of Chuuya's chest.

Red filled his vision and it only took him a moment to break free of his bindings, grabbing Jean's gun from him and shooting him dead. Dazai didn't even watch the body fall to the floor, he had already readjusted the gun to refocus on the woman who had brought them here.

Except somehow in the time that it'd taken for him to do that, she'd grabbed a gun of her own, pressing it tightly against Chuuya's temple.

Checkmate.

"Put the gun down, Osamu," the woman instructed, the sound of his first name sounding unnatural as it rang through the tense air.

No one called him that.

Calculations flickered through Dazai's mind, as he tried to figure out whether he'd be able to kill the woman before she killed Chuuya. In the end, he knew it was too much of a risk and scowled, as he let the gun fall to the floor, kicking it over to her. The woman picked it up, while still keeping her weapon trained on Chuuya. She didn't even seem interested in the death of her partner. It was scary because she almost reminded Dazai of his younger self before he'd lost Odasaku.

He allowed the woman to lead him back over to the chair and redo his restraints. This time, Dazai found her tightening them until they were biting into his skin, leaving burning scarlet marks in their wake.

With that, the woman tore the rag away from Chuuya's face, before lifting her dead partner with the faintest of frowns on her face.

"When I return, I expect you to tell me how you escaped. If you don't, then next time, I won't be quite as merciful."

The woman exited the room, the door slamming shut behind her.