Chuuya awoke to the white walls of that accursed room, his whole body feeling like he'd just been run over by a truck.
As came to, he realized that he'd been taken from where he'd initially been strapped down on the bed, in favor of another chair with bonds adorning his body and keeping him securely rooted to it.
The lingering effects of the torture still haunted him, as the memories began to assault his mind. He felt like he could still feel the water pooling at the bottom of his throat and his body shaking futilely against the bindings. Still, now was not the time to reminisce over such things. There was simply no time for that.
Dazai sat across from him, eyeing him with muted concern. However, that quickly melted into his usual frozen expression, upon realizing that Chuuya was awake.
"Finally, you're awake! It took you long enough. I was getting so bored waiting for you to wake up. Imagine if you hadn't and died on me over something as lousy as waterboarding! I would've been so disappointed. You are my dog, after all. Dogs aren't supposed to die before their masters."
"Just shut up, asshole," Chuuya grumbled back, "neither of us is dying here and for the thousandth time, I am not your fucking dog."
They both fell silent, as the sound of the door creaking open echoed across the room and the woman from earlier stepped in, her face devoid of emotion. Chuuya's body tensed, while Dazai kept up his usual icy, nonchalant demeanor.
"Where's your partner?" Chuuya snarked, eyeing her suspiciousness.
She walked up to Chuuya grabbing his face with one hand, instead of answering him, while reaching into her pocket with the other to unveil a knife. He stilled his body, as he prepared for the stinging sensation of the sharp metal drawing scarlet lines across his skin. That was not what happened, however, as his expectations were completely scattered. Instead of digging into him, the knife instead cut through his bondings, as the woman quickly stepped back once she'd finished.
It took Chuuya a moment to process what had just happened. Even Dazai looked a little bit surprised. However, the moment passed quickly, as Chuuya jumped into action, aiming a sweeping kick at the woman, in an attempt to ground her. For even without his ability, Chuuya Nakahara was still dangerous, being one of the best martial artists in the Port Mafia.
The woman narrowly twisted out of the way, dodging the kick by mere millimeters and pulling a concealed gun from her waist, pointing it directly at Dazai's head.
"Careful," she warned, "it'd be a shame if I had to shoot your friend."
"Friend?" Chuuya spat, "I don't know if I'd call him that." Still, Chuuya refrained from advancing any further, at the threat of Dazai's life slipping through his fingers like the lives of so many others he'd watch fade away through the duration of his own.
Dazai just watched the whole thing play out, the bored look having morphed into one of faint amusement.
"If you want to shoot me in the head, I'd prefer it if you did it from the back. Hit the brainstem, you know? That way I can have a quick, painless death! You know honestly, that might not actually be such a bad idea-"
"Shut up, shitty Dazai," Chuuya cut him off, keeping his attention still mostly focused on the woman, who was looking a bit put off by Dazai's words, but quickly recovered, as she partially followed through on what he said and walked around behind him. She adjusted her aim, shoving the barrel into the back of his head. However, her aim kept the gun pointed just above the brainstem, rather than at it, as Dazai had wished. He looked almost disappointed for a moment before that morphed back into his usual bored look.
"Now, I want you to come here and stand in front of Osamu, Chuuya," the woman instructed and confusion fluttered across Chuuya's face at her usage of Dazai's given name. He watched a flicker of irritation cross Dazai's face, but he refrained from saying anything. Instead, he just raised his eyes to meet Chuuya's, watching as he approached him.
The woman drew the knife she'd used to cut through Chuuya's bonds earlier and inspected it briefly before offering Chuuya the hilt. He took it, although confusion flickered through his gaze, at having been handed such a weapon until suddenly it clicked and he felt his heart sink to his stomach.
"Good," the woman encouraged, realizing he'd gotten it with the faint change of his expression. "Now, as you've probably guessed, I'm going to instruct you on what to do. If you don't listen, then I'll shoot Osamu in the back of the head and make sure I hit as many nerves as possible to make sure he doesn't die easily. I doubt either of you would want that. Such a painful way to die really. But it isn't like he doesn't deserve it. I mean, in leaving this place you killed so many. Plus, now you've even murdered my partner too, to make it even better, at the hands of the ever-so-generous Osamu!" She paused, and where she'd been practically void of emotion in the aftermath of Jean's death, now something seemed to break in her gaze, almost as if she was realizing for the first time that what had happened was real, "Jean had a family you know. He and his husband had just adopted two kids. Five and twelve years old. But now, because of you two, his husband will be raising those two kids alone on a fucking barista salary. I wouldn't be surprised if they get sent back into the system really as fucked up as that is. Still, I doubt that either of you gives a damn about that! You're so wrapped up in your own little fucking world of playing mafioso and detective, never thinking about the consequences of your own goddamn actions." Her eyes locked onto Chuuya's, "so now, you or your friend here are going to tell me how you two escaped from this prison or I'll make you inflict the sort of pain that you both have inflicted upon so many, upon Osamu here ten-fucking-fold."
As much as Chuuya didn't want to admit it, what she said had affected him, as much as he felt almost nothing but disdain towards the woman herself. He felt horrible now about asking where her partner was upon seeing her walk through the door. Faint feelings of self-hatred stirred in the gut too at the thought of two kids, now without one of their fathers, and the probable threat of going back into the system weighing on their young backs, all because of him and Dazai.
Dazai, however, seemed unaffected, as per usual. At least on the outside.
"Yes, yes such a sad story. Anyways, let's just get on with it. I'd like to just get this over with, instead of waiting all day listening to your sob story, if that's cool with you? The anticipation is killing me."
The woman tightened her grip on the gun.
"Cut the bandages off of his arms and neck," the woman instructed, eyes hard and cold.
What?
Chuuya hadn't expected that. He'd anticipated being instructed to draw blood, not tearing away the carefully wrapped bandages, serving as one of the only things that protected Dazai from his past. Yet, somehow doing this felt worse than what he'd expected he'd have to do.
He readied the knife, holding the end of the bandages up with his index finger for easier access and more assurance that he wouldn't accidentally cut Dazai in the process. He was sure that Dazai wanted to be anywhere else but here with the incoming loss of one of his most significant boundaries, judging from how he'd gone totally silent rather than making another jab.
Chuuya already knew what lay beneath, having been his partner for so long. Still, he'd never asked where they'd come from, although he could guess. It just wasn't his business and something that Dazai didn't really like to go into or even really acknowledge, hence the bandages. Still, Chuuya knew that they couldn't just give away how they'd escaped, not that he was even entirely sure of the answer to that question, as Dazai had done most of the planning on that one with Chuuya having been essentially out of commission for most of it. He also couldn't allow Dazai to be shot while he just stood there, useless, as much as he claimed to hate him. So, Chuuya steadied his hand and tore the first set of bandages on Dazai's right arm clean off.
They fluttered like feathers to the floor.
He repeated this process on Dazai's left arm, feeling terrible all the while. He wanted to tell him he was sorry for what he was doing. That he didn't have a choice, but he knew that Dazai already knew that.
To most, Dazai would seem unfazed, meeting Chuuya's gaze steadily and keeping his body relaxed for the most part. However, Chuuya knew Dazai much better than a lot of people and could tell by the increasingly distant look in Dazai's eyes, as the brown in his eyes began to dull, that this was hurting him, possibly more than any flesh-wound ever could. This was taking the autonomy of his body away from him. Stripping him bare for all of the world to see.
Where the bandages used to reside there was now pale skin, having been unexposed to any sunlight in so long. Upon them were a seemingly endless number of jagged scars, burn marks, and old gunshot wounds. Chuuya didn't let his eyes linger long, as he moved on to Dazai's neck.
He slid one hand behind Dazai's neck, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse against his palm.
At the feel of surprisingly silky hair covering his fingers, an idea began to form in his mind.
He brought the knife up to Dazai's neck.
Behind them, the woman looked almost proud that she'd managed to manipulate the once infamous Double Black into such a situation, as a smile began to blossom on her face.
Carefully, Chuuya began to slice the sharp blade down the bandages covering Dazai's throat, gently so that he didn't accidentally knick his skin. Then, he began to softly tap morse code on the back of Dazai's neck, where his hair covered Chuuya's hand.
Lean forward. Five seconds.
He counted down in his mind, the knife sliding down Dazai's throat going with the pace of his counting.
Five… four… three… two… one…
Zero.
Dazai flung his body forward and Chuuya swung his knifed hand away from Dazai's throat, stabbing the blade into the barrel of the gun and forcing it upwards. It flung from the woman's grip and flew through the air, clattering to the floor a few meters away, the knife still stuck in the barrel.
The woman sprang back with a yell, and Chuuya lept after her, shoving his hands into his pockets.
He aimed a high kick at her jugular, which she just narrowly managed to dodge, by quickly side-stepping to the right. Chuuya didn't let up though, as he launched into kick after kick until finally, the woman managed to dislodge another knife from her boot and swing it at him, forcing Chuuya to leap back. She lunged again and he quickly stepped to the side, a bit too late, however, as he felt the edge of the blade glance off of his cheek.
In retaliation and the humiliation of her landing a hit, Chuuya spun around aiming a kick to her side that sent the woman flying into the far wall. The sound of something cracking echoed throughout the room, but whatever the woman had just broken didn't faze her, as she jumped back up to her feet, while something feral lit up her eyes.
"I should've just killed you both when we found you."
The woman sprung at Chuuya again, the knife swinging down towards his throat. He managed to lean back just in time, evading the hit, however, having been distracted by the knife, he wasn't ready for the feeling of the woman aiming a kick of her own at his gut. He was sent him flying backward, gasping for breath.
It had all been a distraction Chuuya realized belatedly, as he saw her now sprinting towards the gun that lay on the floor.
He ran after her with a shout but was too late, as she grabbed the gun, tearing the knife from the barrel and aiming it directly at his heart.
She fired without a second thought.
There was no time to get out of the way. This was it. He was going to die.
Time seemed to slow down and his whole life flashed before his eyes, as the projectile got closer and closer. He remembered joining the sheep, exploring the underworld with Dazai, doing karaoke with Akutagawa and Gin, spending days sipping tea and chatting with Kouyou, and longed for just one more moment of the sweetness of life.
He didn't want to die.
Yet, suddenly he wished the bullet had just collided with him, as bright white clothing suddenly entered the edge of his vision and slammed into him. Meanwhile, he was sent him flying out of the projectile's way.
He landed, his muscles hurting from the impact, but overall he was unharmed.
His eyes flickered to his left and his eyes widened in unbridled anger, as he began to realize the full extent of what had just happened.
Once white clothes were now scarlet and quickly darkening in color, as Dazai lay wheezing on the ground, curled up and clutching a bullet wound that had mercilessly entered his side.
The bullet that had been meant for Chuuya.
"Dazai!"