Text | UN: MrFancyHat

[thetaintedsorrow]

I’ll cut right to the chase here; I need a quick way to make some cash that doesn’t involve murder or traveling all over the goddamn world. No political bullshit either; I’m not here to be anyone’s champion. Just quick, simple jobs I can do until I find a place to work permanently. Heavy lifting isn’t a problem.

If anyone has any suggestions, lemme know.

Comments

[cassus]

[ It's in Dazai's nature to tease Chuuya till his partner is a flustered mess. But he's already taken that route tonight, despite the otherwise serious nature of their conversation. Better to at least alternate his responses and aim for something a little more honest every now and again. This prevents from wearing Chuuya's nerves thin all at once or turning a subtle mention into something tiresome. ]

And just what was the point, Chuuya? [ His question, Chuuya's suspicion or something else? ] I'm curious to hear it from you.

[ It's not hard to keep track of the conversation when their words are eternally recorded on a screen, giving him the chance to review everything said once either of them hits 'send'. But he still gives Chuuya the opportunity to say which of all the various subjects at hand is weighing most his mind. Dazai would rather have clarity in this moment. Rare as an occasion as it is, he needs to hear the words spoken first-hand in the place of guessing what Chuuya thinks. ]

[thetaintedsorrow]

[The thing is that Chuuya doesn’t actually know where he’s going with this. His thoughts are a jumbled mess that he can’t hope to untangle right now, and being someone who never articulates himself well anyway...]

The point is that I’m still here after all these years, and so are you.

If I didn’t want to see you I wouldn’t.

Do you blame me for not believing some of the shit you say though??

You fucked up when you left the Mafia without a goddamn word, but I’m willing to start over here.

[cassus]

[ Dazai doesn't begrudge Chuuya for his resentment. If anything he's used it, stoked and fed it's flames at every turn, to keep Chuuya nestled within the safe-haven of the Mafia where he belonged. Where he thrived and shone his colors most brightly. ]

No, I've never blamed you.

[ Neither of them forgive easily. Any doubts about the breadth of Dazai's lenience are instantly rectified with the appearance of a certain intelligence officer who Dazai has already almost killed once. Could have. Should have.

At least that's what a little blood-thirsty voice whispers. If only Odasaku's ghost wouldn't frown so severely on Dazai proving exactly how petty and childish he was, holding onto grudges like holy men cling to divine salvation.

All for the sake of eternally hanging that 'almost' like an ever-looking guillotine over Ango's head, locking him in fear of Dazai's wrath like the kind of eternal purgatory Ango deserves for playing his part in Oda's death.

So, if he resented Chuuya even an ounce, there were more than enough opportunities to prove it. And yet instead he's all but lain himself down within the alter of Chuuya's arms time and time again in this new world. Each time Dazai has given Chuuya the opportunity to exact his well deserved revenge.

If Chuuya wanted to. If he'd be satisfied with their particular brand of sex and then slicing Dazai's throat open up as a second course. ]

This would be the right place for second chances and starting over.

[thetaintedsorrow]

[In truth Chuuya doesn’t want Dazai dead. Oh, he’ll shout and declare how he’s going to be the one to end the bastard’s life, but Chuuya has had every opportunity to do so in the past, and yet here he is, still alive. It would be so easy to end him, even without his ability, but obviously that’s not what Chuuya wants, nor has it ever been what he wanted. He simply wants to know why the hell Dazai would betray the Mafia, would betray him.

All he wants is answers. But he’s not about to admit that, even if Dazai has most certainly figured it out by now.]

Then we agree on something.

I’m not saying I forgive you, by the way. I’m just saying I might be willing to forget.

[cassus]

You're supposed to forgive, not forget.

[ Dazai shouldn't find it endearing that Chuuya stubbornly manages to work through a vital step of the healing process in a completely backwards manner. Then again, the whole of their relationship is constructed on a foundation of things that 'shouldn't' be; from Chuuya himself to the fact both of them are still alive and breathing after the end of the world. ]

You do realize I can tell what's on your mind, right?

[ Dazai could tell what was on Chuuya's mind the moment he brought up that one particular old festering wound between them. And no matter what his partner says, it's not going to be forgotten any time soon.

So, he makes a section proposal tonight. This time it's just for conversation, the likes of which shouldn't be held over a text message. ]

If you have something to ask me...

Well, I'm not going to tell you what to do. But I can't run away if we're face to face.

[thetaintedsorrow]

[It’s true; Chuuya will likely neither forgive nor forget until he learns the truth. So he should jump at the chance to interrogate Dazai, right? Then why does he feel hesitant to agree to this little meeting?

Perhaps because he may not like the truth.]

When and where?

[cassus]

I'm free now.

[ While Dazai isn't concerned with where they have this conversation, he does Chuuya a favor, catering to his need for control by handing over the power to decide their meeting place. ]

You choose the place. Neutral territory and all that.

Unless you want to have this sort of conversation at my place.

[thetaintedsorrow]

Flona Cove. As soon as you can.

[It’s an odd choice, but being on the beach at night ensures that they won’t have to worry about eavesdroppers. Not that what they have to discuss would mean much to most people on Nysa, but still.

Chuuya will board the train and end up at Flona Cove, bypassing the station upon his exit and heading right for the sandy shore where he’ll await Dazai’s arrival.

Just how many times will Dazai get to see Chuuya bathed in moonlight?]

[cassus]

[ At this hour the populace of milling tourists have diminished enough that it doesn't take long to find who he's looking for. Soon as he steps onto the beach Dazai knows they're alone, save for a sky full of stars that seem to follow after Chuuya; rising around him like fireflies on hot summer nights.

He didn't rush, exactly. But although Dazai didn't really drag his feet in preparation before heading off to their little rendezvous spot, it takes some time to arrive. And he can't help but wonder what questions have been brewing in Chuuya's mind since before he'd stepped on shore. No, years and years before now. ]

Can't say I'm disappointed in letting you pick the place.

[ It probably looks inappropriately flippant in light of what's ahead, but he's removed his shoes and socks in order to feel the sand beneath his steps. Childish an act as it may seen, sensing something tactile and real helps to ground him. And he needs to pretend right now, that anything at all can brace him for suffering through a discussion that can and will lead to Odasaku. Which might as well be asking him to reach in and rip out his own heart for Chuuya to examine. Not that his partner doesn't deserve that. Dazai's heart on a platter or in the palm of his hand.

Either way, it rightfully belongs to Chuuya in the end. ]

[thetaintedsorrow]

Dazai.

[Chuuya doesn’t even need to look to know who’s approaching him. Both of them are intimately familiar with each other’s footsteps, breathing patterns, mannerisms. Even a skilled shapeshifter wouldn’t be able to fool Chuuya into thinking it was Dazai, because he knows Dazai all too well.

He doesn’t judge the removal of Dazai’s shoes, and actually copies him, letting his toes sink into the still-warm sand.

Where to even begin...?]

Why did you leave? I want a reason. A real reason.

[Chuuya isn’t one to walk on eggshells and avoid issues, so why not start off with what he wants to know more than anything else?

He finally looks over at Dazai, eyes searching his partner’s face.]

No more lies.

[cassus]

[ There's a satchel at his side, no more remarkable than a cloth bag meant to carry ordinary goods. But from within he draws out a beach towel, over-sized and large enough for the both of them, brought with the certainty that this may take longer than he's willing to stand.

There is the air of it being something of an olive branch he passes between them, tossing it gently towards his partner in an underhand motion that assures it'll land without too much force. ]

First thing's first- Catch.

[ He meant what he'd said earlier. From the lulling roll of waves blackened by night to the starry sky and moon above, the scenery here isn't too shabby a choice. It's a shame actually, because the atmosphere is downright ethereal; better suited for hushed conversations murmured between touching lips and held hands, not talk of death and betrayal.

Which is why his hands slide away, cautiously tucked into beige pockets of a coat that's half Dazai's shield and security blanket. One he's used so often for blocking out the world and hiding from reach the few places where skin is left bare and exposed to a world that he doesn't often want to be seen by.

Upon approach he looks as he always does; posture a mix of guarded and casually aloof with an unreadable expression. And it stays like that, those few feet where he forgets his shoes and his bag in order to step into Chuuya's personal space.

But however much taller he is, and no matter the way Dazai's broader form comes close enough to loom shadows over Chuuya's, there's no aura of a threat behind the closeness. If anything, how tense he seems from the lock of his shoulders and his schooled expression is countered by the way bare feet bump into Chuuya's in a way that's undeniably affectionate.

Standing literally toe-to-toe feels like a step in the right direction, but Chuuya has never seen his more subtle cues for what they are. So with a breath meant to center himself, and an exhale as pained as the crease in brows that knot tightly together, Dazai shakes off his apprehension and slides his hands free. ]

Tell me something, Chuuya.. [ His partner may only say it after Corruption, but he knows it runs deeper than that. ] Do you trust me?

[ Reaching out between them, it looks certain that Dazai is going to touch Chuuya's face. The angle is right, his palm comes in close, but in the last second he deviates to carefully take hold upon the brim of Chuuya's hat. He's well aware of how special it is to the man at his side, so the gesture isn't a taunt nor some provocation. Which is why when he draws it away from the hair it keeps pinned down and captive, letting the light breeze pluck up strands to leave them dancing around Chuuya's face, it's done with the same tenderness of a caress. ]

[thetaintedsorrow]

[Chuuya’s reflexes have been honed over the years out of pure necessity, and he effortlessly catches the towel Dazai tosses at him before unfolding it and laying it out on the sand. It really is too bad that this isn’t going to be some pleasant date under the stars, but Chuuya will gladly sacrifice a night of indulgence and relaxation to finally learn the truth he’s been seeking for so long.

Dazai’s toes bumping into Chuuya’s feels far too innocent and juvenile for two men who have taken their share of lives and seen more violence and bloodshed than most do in their entire lives. Juvenile, and yet Chuuya doesn’t move away, instead standing his ground with the same commanding presence he’s always had. Eyes almost luminescent in the moonlight, Chuuya looks beautiful and deadly all at once.

There’s an undeniable softening of his expression when Dazai asks that most unexpected question, and Chuuya half-heartedly tries swatting Dazai’s hands away from his hat. He feels so naked without it, but maybe naked and vulnerable is how he needs to let himself feel for once.

After. He can’t go all soft and mushy before he learns the truth. The truth is what brought him here tonight, and like hell he’s leaving without it.]

Yes.

[Even after all this time, after all the hurt and betrayal, Chuuya still trusts Dazai with his life. He wonders if that makes him a fool.]

[cassus]

Then you know I'm not lying to you.

[ Other times he often does, with taunts and deception meant to see Chuuya's face break free from it's flawless but otherwise cool expression, marred only by a perpetual scowl born from living with a short fuse. Soft skin and well-sculpted features ripple with an explosion of life whenever Dazai stirs him with endless provocation, and ultimately all of that fire and heat focuses down upon him.

The urge is always there, like an emptiness beneath his ribs and in the bottom of his gut, which always begs to be filled. But tonight he needs to satisfy someone else's nagging wants and wishes beyond his own. ]

...No matter what I say.

[ Anticipating Chuuya's instinctively defensive reaction, no matter how little actual intent lies behind it, is child's play for him. Dazai is sure to dodge that hand, ensuring he's not chased off before at least acquiring what he's after. Though the real prize here isn't a hat stolen away just to touch Chuuya without even making contact, but it's owner. ]

As an executive you're aware that businesses in Yokohama operating with the use of special powers are required by law to have a Special Abilities License.

[ He knows Chuuya wasn't one to question Mori Ogai's discrete measures of leadership. He'd always been a loyalist; the sort of follower who feels indebted and given purpose by the cause he belongs to, come hell or high water.

In times past Chuuya would have easily died in the mere name of the Mafia. And Dazai has no delusions about the lengths he's gone for the organization. So it stands to reason that he wouldn't dissect the fibers that hold the spiderwebs composing the Port Mafia's inner most workings with a fine toothed comb. And yet Dazai asks anyway. ]

Why would the government permit an illegal criminal organization as ruthless and violent as the Port Mafia to gain the one slip of paper which recognizes it as a legally functioning entity?

[ Dazai idly settles Chuuya's hat atop his index finger before rotating it with every word, letting the hat spin like a black-clad carousel. ]

[thetaintedsorrow]

[For once Chuuya will give Dazai the benefit of the doubt that he’s not lying through his teeth, which is both new and unexpected between them ever since he’d left the Mafia. After all, why risk believing someone who’s betrayed you before? But as they’d agreed to before, this is a new start, and a chance for Dazai to explain himself in a way that Chuuya can hopefully understand.]

Of course I know that. That’s just basic knowledge. What about it?

[Chuuya has always been incredibly loyal to whatever cause he serves, and had dedicated himself to ensuring the survival of the Port Mafia and its leader. Why would he need to question Mori’s leadership? Sure, Chuuya has disagreed with and even disobeyed orders before, but never to the point of treason. In the end he’d found Mori to be a competent, capable leader, and that was all that had mattered.

Chuuya huffs and tries snatching his hat back from atop Dazai’s finger. God damn it, why does Dazai have to be so fucking tall??]

How should I know what the hell the government wants or why it operates how it does? What’s your point?

[cassus]

[ This isn't the time for arguing semantics pertaining to leadership nor running a business. However, if it weren't for how little Chuuya pays attention to the minute of either, preferring taking action over thinking things down to their bare bones, he would've been a better leader, a more devoted and magnanimous one, than Mori or Dazai could ever have been. Not that the issue matters now, with their world and the group itself laid to rest for as long as Mori does.]

The reasoning is this: The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

[ If Dazai had harbored any particular expression before, it's long since been lost beneath the rising aura of something undeniably cold. Rarely unleashed in the years since an era where it'd reigned supreme, the sinister sort of demeanor that slinks over him like an unseen serpent, shields him as skin does over festering wound. ]

To save itself from a threat it didn't understand, a foreign enemy it feared more than the monster under it's own bed, the government made a deal with the devil.

[ His eyes narrow at the mention of Mori; focused far beyond Chuuya or even the atmosphere anywhere around them, making it clear that his target isn't present here tonight. ]

At the same time the Port Mafia's boss ensured the greatest threat to his rule would never overthrow him.

[ Dazai's unbridled hatred for Mori roils around him like something tangible, mirrored in strength by the obvious agony slowly creeping through him. Both echo in a body language that's reminiscent of something lost and feral, hunched into itself in pain. If his shoulders had been taut before then now they very well seem ready to break in half with the tension of someone reliving a loss so great that it threatens to run away with them. ]

Ah, but there was a little snag! If your rival to the throne is your most highly prized and fearsome weapon, something you've spent years honing to perfection, throwing it away would be such a terrible waste.

The better option is to break their spirit and send them into exile, until you need them again.

[ Chuuya's hat has stopped spinning, held just out of reach in a way that would be mocking, if his eyes even so much as saw Chuuya anymore. But their far-away stare is locked upon things beyond the present moment; unable to perceive anything but Odasaku being lured to his fate, Odasaku's blood pouring out upon his hands, Odasaku's body lying limp and growing cold within his own arms. ]

...By killing who you believe is most important to them.

[ With chilling certainty, Dazai knows that to save his own skin, Mori would have placed Chuuya's head upon the chopping block right alongside Odasaku's, eradicating both lover and friend in one fell swoop. All he would have needed was the slightest inkling that Dazai required the added nudge. Yet Odasaku had been more than enough. He was the perfect sacrificial lamb in every conceivable sense; from the ability he'd been gifted with to his perfectly orchestrated position in Dazai's life. He'd been meticulously planted within the Demon Prodigy's work life, their schedules intertwined and jobs aligned by Mori's machinations to the point it was impossible for Dazai to not take interest. Which inevitably led to his place within the little downtime Dazai shared. Odasaku's natural charm, that stalwart paternal figure that Dazai was drowning for and had never found in Mori was latched onto like a lifeline, earning him a sufficient enough place in his heart.

So that tearing it out was nearly enough to destroy him. ]

[thetaintedsorrow]

[Even Chuuya is wise enough to know that when Dazai’s aloof and sometimes even playful demeanor gives way to that icy cold dark side he means business, and it’s enough to tell Chuuya that every word he’s speaking is true, and has been festering within him for god knows how long. It’s as if his words drip with venom and seethe with rage all at once, and Chuuya is instantly reminded of the days when this was the Dazai that most people knew.

It’s chilling, and only made worse by how Dazai refuses to meet his gaze or even see him.]

A deal? Made by the boss? With the government?

[Chuuya doesn’t like where this is going. Hearing this truth is vital to his peace of mind, but he’d never considered that it might turn his worldview completely upside down. He’s remained loyal to Mori for years, and still is to this day, but he has a sickening sinking feeling that that loyalty is about to be called into question. For whatever happened to affect even someone like Dazai this much...]

Dazai...

[Chuuya’s tone is wary as he finally abandons his attempts to grab for his hat in favor of simply standing there, eyes wide and blood turned to ice.]

What are you talking about? Exile?? You left on your own.

[Chuuya has never sounded so unsure of anything in his entire life. Assassinations within the ranks weren’t unheard of, but more often than not the person was seen as a liability or an outright risk to the organization. Killing loved ones to drive a stake through the heart of the ones left to linger was a tactic reserved for those who were either indebted to the Port Mafia or were traitors and sell-outs. Not once has Chuuya heard of it happening to anyone in their own ranks, let alone an executive.

But perhaps there’s a reason he’s never heard of this until now.]

You’re saying the Boss killed someone close to you to put you in your place?

[But the only person that Chuuya had ever seen Dazai grow truly close to had been...

His eyes narrow, expression darkening as the pieces slowly begin to fall into place.]

Does this have to do with Odasaku?

[cassus]

And if I didn't leave of my own volition, Chuuya?

[ Once upon a time Dazai would have done anything, come hell or the highest waters, to keep Chuuya safely shrouded in ignorance, purposefully left in the dark concerning plans which culminated one fateful day, more than four long years ago. He'd pulled every string and used up all his favors to disappear from the mafia's ever watchful stare. He'd never once given Chuuya so much as a clue to follow, to ensure he wouldn't drag him down the path of desertion too. ]

What then, if you were supposed to believe that?

[ But on Nysa the game-board has been cleared; their worlds and all the petty struggles for power lost among the chaos of countless Universes being torn asunder. Mori's eternal looming presence over the whole of their lives is beginning to fade like a bad dream upon waking. Yokohama and all the holdings, be it monetary values in assorted banks or shares owned in innumerable companies that did their bidding, all which tied power and influence to the Port Mafia, are now nothing but dust in the wind.

Mori still sleeps, lying in wait like a plague which only needs a moment's freedom to unleash it's impact upon the world around it. But so long as he's not here to pull the strings and leash Chuuya under the Mafia' yoke once again, things can be different. He wants to believe they would even if Mori rises again, in search of power and the ability to harness it, and certainly Chuuya who remains the ideal vessel to implement those wishes.

But Dazai has never been a dreamer. So he focuses on the now. ]

So you wouldn't follow me where I was going. Or ask too many questions. Nor betray the one place where you've thrived.

[ The answer to a question asking whether Dazai left 'Willingly' is up for interpretation. Mori's plan had deep roots, considering that it reached all the way back to the Dragon's Head Rush, where the absurd pairing of Executive and Lowest Ranking Member were assigned to collect the dead. But Mori's creeping paranoia that Dazai would usurp him stemmed deep down to his own betrayal of the previous Boss, when Dazai was barely in his teens and focused solely upon the world of darkness within his damaged little head. ]

My plan was so flawless, you hated me with your whole heart- [ Chuuya's hat returns atop his head. Softly. Tenderly. ] ...All these years.

[ But Chuuya is right, Odasaku played a part. That final nail in the coffin, going off like a rallying gunshot that set him into motion soon as Oda's heart had stopped, were the dying words of a man he loved. And he did love Oda. He knows that know; be it as a brother or the father figure Mori had laughably failed so poorly at being or perhaps an unrequited puppy love never quite reciprocated in the same way.

But at what point had any of this been truly Dazai's choice? All of it had been someone else's decision; between Mori's destruction of the one guiding light in Dazai's world and the death of that one North Star that had been watching over him. Even Odasaku's last words were proof that Dazai hadn't originally cared either way, not for being good nor evil or anything in between.

The love of him is what drove Dazai out. And the loss of him. Oda and Mori are both responsible for casting Dazai out into the streets of Yokohama and within a new life he couldn't even fathom, without so much as a compass, moral or otherwise. All he had were those words to drive him:

"Be on the side that saves people... Become a good man. Save the weak, and protect the orphans." ]

Yes, it does. [ Hearing that name after all this time feels like a knife digging deep between his ribs, gradually piercing straight through his heart. ] ...This has everything to do with Odasaku.

[thetaintedsorrow]

[There’s a moment where Chuuya simply stands there, mouth agape and eyes wide in disbelief. It isn’t often that he’s completely shocked by something, because when you usually expect the worst you’re almost never surprised, but this? With a few carefully chosen words Dazai has taken everything that Chuuua has ever known to be true about their past and turned it upside down, leaving him reeling and unable to come up with a proper response.

What is he supposed to say to that? How is he supposed to take the news that Dazai had left him in the dark on purpose to protect him? How is he supposed to act when every ounce of resentment that he’s been stewing in for all these years was built on the false assumption that Dazai left on his own just to spite him and get back at Mori for all the man’s transgressions? He doesn’t even register the feeling of the hat being placed on his head again. He’s too lost, too swept up in a torrent of emotions to react to something so trivial.

His hands clench into fists at his sides, and Chuuya’s disbelief is quickly beginning to give way to rage and indignation, the likes of which would terrify a lesser man than Dazai.]

So what? You’re saying what happened to Odasaku was planned?

[There are sacrifices that must be made to make organizations thrive; Chuuya knows this all too well, but why Odasaku?? Why had he played any part at all?? The only explanation would be his bond with Dazai, and that makes his fate all the more tragic. A pawn, used and disposed of as Mori saw fit. Nothing so far has been able to make Chuuya question his loyalty to Mori, but this? This might finally be the thing that opens Chuuya’s eyes and forces him to see just the kind of man Mori was. Chuuya had known he was brutal, merciless, and unforgiving, but somehow none of that had mattered to Chuuya until now. Mori has taken him in, had given him a purpose, and in turn had earned Chuuya’s undying loyalty.

And now? Not only does Chuuya not have a purpose, but his former one is seeming more and more like some kind of blemish on his history rather than something to be proud of.]

And you left right after he died. To keep me safe.

[He’s trying to understand, trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s hated Dazai for some imagined wrongdoing for all these years.

It’s not going well.]

You...

[Chuuya hasn’t been this furious in ages. It was all a lie. All of it. Chuuya hates Dazai for something he did to protect him. Fuck. Fuck.]

You fucking asshole!!!

[Chuuya isn’t even controlling his body anymore, and he’s going to punch Dazai right in the face if he doesn’t try to dodge.]

You left!! And then lied to me, and now you’re telling me it was to keep me safe?? What the fuck???

[He can’t think straight. All that’s going through his mind is how very, very wrong he’s been about everything up until now.

The truth is tearing him apart, and Chuuya has no idea how to deal with it.]

[cassus]

Yes. [ And once more in quick succession. ] I did.

[ An unfortunate education bought and paid for by spilled blood, Dazai knows that even before the impending fist connects that this isn't going to bode well. One of the body's most sensitive spots, a person's delicate nerve-laden features supplies more blood vessels than areas made duller to endure daily wear and tear.

Head wounds always shock first-timers to the act of killing; bleeding more than anyone would believe possible. And mouths are little different, prone to gushing when the right force or a direct hit shatters teeth or slices tongue. He miraculously draws neither outcome, but his mouth suffers feeling shredded. A split lip and bitten cheek more than make up for grievous injuries in their bloodletting. And if a black eye blooms throughout the night then he won't wake up surprised.

Inking the sand brackish-red with the constant drizzle of blood from his mouth, Dazai feels no shock, at least concerning the expectedly bloody aftermath. His head hangs low, bowed down upon still shoulders as if broken from it's rightful place or perhaps completely pulled from the hinges. But underneath tousled hair left in further disarray, his eyes may be unblinking, but they're focused and present. Fixed upon the constellations his injuries paint like Pollock's best pieces, he can't bare to tear his eyes away for fear of facing anything else that awaits him.

Mouth brimming to the hilt with blood Dazai can't help but cough out the contents out in great mouthfuls. And there's little help to be found in reflexes when his lungs had acted on impulse in the first place, drawing in the faithful gasp that lodged something besides his heart inside his throat, in a subconscious anticipation of the pain to come.

It's only when lungs have purged themselves clear of any obstruction that Dazai can fully appreciate his current position. The blow had felled him, that much was been apparent in that fateful first second one knee had hit unyielding sand dune with all the resistance of a bare-knuckled sand bag punch. It's a wonder there aren't broken bones, splintered skulls or fractured jaws, to be knitted together in the aftermath. He may not suffer that blackout-inducing agony of snapped limbs, but it doesn't suggest that pain is absent all together. It hurts to move, to breathe, and even speaking comes with all the disjointed confusion of someone reeling from a blow to the head. ]

N-nh.. [ Words stick to his tongue like glue. ] Now you know the truth, Chuuya.

[ Whenever he's feeling defensive hands do their best to hide away, no matter how often they're his get out of jail card with women or weapons borne of abilities alone. So it's par for the course that they disappear into his pockets now. It's not that he refuses to fidget over the state of his face, curious and protective of the damaged dealt there. Simply put: Any attention to it is a display that would have Mori's lip curled up in a sneer over such a sign of weakness. Better for him to refuse acknowledgment of it, to let the blood flow freely without trying to staunch a drop, all to shoulder onward without dwelling on any of it.

Legs feel unsteady upon standing; that crutched-upon knee exploding in pain once his weight experimentally settles there again. Yet stand he does, reaching one-handedly to drag away the beach towel settled upon the sand with intentions for a different outcome. ]

[thetaintedsorrow]

[Somehow it really isn’t all that surprising that Dazai doesn’t dodge Chuuya’s fist, but it’s still a shock to see the blood pouring from his mouth like a waterfall, and it’s then that Chuuya is reminded just how hard he can hit without even trying. Before he knows it Dazai is on the ground, coughing up blood, and Chuuya feels so, so sick. Not from the sight of blood, but from the damage he’d inflicted in a moment of seething anger. He’s always been short-tempered, and it’s never bothered him before, but this? This isn’t what he’d wanted at all.

Maybe beating the shit out of Dazai used to be cathartic, but now it just makes Chuuya’s gut twist and churn in the most unpleasant of ways.]

God fucking damn it.

[Chuuya waits until Dazai is on his feet again before yanking him forward by his tie until their faces nearly collide. He can smell the blood staining his lips and chin, and instead of raising his hand for another blow, Chuuya reaches into his back pocket to pull out a handkerchief and shove it into Dazai’s hand.]

Here.

[And yet even after Chuuya delivers the cloth he holds onto Dazai with an iron grip, heading hanging low and hat obscuring his eyes. It’s impossible to see his expression right now, but there’s a telltale trembling of his shoulders as Chuuya tries to pull himself together. If only rage was all he felt right now; instead it’s a mixture of shock, anger, confusion, sadness and guilt, all of which he has no idea how to process at the same time. Not once has Chuuya ever truly regretted something as much as he does right now, and that regret in turns fuels his fury like gasoline would a flame.

He was played like a fool, and he’s still the one in the wrong. Even if Dazai wanted Chuuya to despise him, how can he be okay with that when all of his resentment was built on falsehoods?]

You fucking asshole...

[The unfamiliar sting of tears pricks at the corners of his eyes for the first time in years, but he fights them back with a vengeance, because Mafia don’t cry.]

Do you know how fucking much I wanted you dead after you left?? I would’ve killed you if the boss hadn’t forbidden it. I would’ve crushed every bone in your goddamn body, and it would’ve been for nothing.

[cassus]

[ Beckoned forward by nothing more than the guiding pull upon his bolo, Dazai gives no hint of refusal as he obliges the unspoken call for him to step into Chuuya's personal space. Small as Chuuya is, he's nothing near to slight. The carefully hidden muscular stature neatly dressed beneath well-tailored attire is powerful enough to command whenever the whim strikes him. Even if Dazai hadn't wanted to, escaping what must feel like a near gravitational pull, would necessitate more than a little maneuvering or even a struggle on his part. But that's only if he didn't. A non-issue, considering how he tumbles into Chuuya's orbit as though he's free-falling. Not a breath of resistance is to be found the instant he knows Chuuya wants him, there or anyplace of his desiring.

The beachy scent of ocean waves and sand should be overridden by the unmistakable metallic coppery tang of his fast-drying blood. Instead all he can perceive is Chuuya filling up his senses; from the cologne handmade and concocted with himself as model-muse, mingling with shampoo, sweat and something decidedly forged from nothing but Chuuya himself. He wants to drown himself in it. ]

How gracious of you.

[ They're nonsense words, mentioned without bite or malice, even if Chuuya may read too much into them. But he needs a crutch to keep himself upon equal footing, so to speak, instead of falling into an unsettling silence which would read even more antagonist than the off-handed words he busies the air around them with holding.

The item he's passed doesn't succumb to it's intended usage. His hands are clean, thankfully due to resisting an earlier urge to fiddle with his wound. Which means the kerchief is pristine; left in mint condition as he discreetly ushers it away into an inner pocket of his coat while Chuuya's eyes fall elsewhere. As for the issue of his injuries, Dazai brushes his mouth upon a sleeve for the purpose of making himself more presentable. Same difference, and all that. This way if Chuuya wishes to hold him in contempt, then it's for the sake of some small sliver of Chuuya that's worth the spite. ]

If it would have kept you safe- [ Spoken softly, under the weight of it's honesty. ] My life is a small price to pay.

[ There's a power imbalance here with how the grip upon his tie roots Dazai into place, as if his partner runs even the slightest risk of Dazai slipping away and leaving his company. Surely it's that want to level the field and not the clear as day tremble of shoulders as a precursor to a cry, which ushers Dazai's heart into acting in the place of staying stock still on his side of Chuuya's personal bubble.

He doesn't know what's permitted between them. The rules change on the daily, depending on the location of contact and all the infinite minute of recent goings on. But it never changes his want for it. None of that dampers the pull to reach across the space that always feels too far between them, eons or light years away, to settle his palm against the soft curve of Chuuya's cheek.

His thumb drags over the space where unshed tears have yet to fall, stroking as though gathering up a wetness that isn't there. Dazai holds his breath all the while, still and silent, waiting for the moment to pass and for Chuuya to decide how that contact should be received. ]

I'd gladly die if it meant you'd live.

[thetaintedsorrow]

You fucking idiot.

[Chuuya is very much trembling now, and the tears that he’d been holding back come sliding down his cheeks in a way that hasn’t happened since he was a child. Everything he’s known about Dazai, about Mori, about his own part in the grand scheme of things is false, built on the assumption that Dazai left of his own accord. How is he supposed to face that now? Chuuya’s strength and indomitable will have never been so shaken, and it shows in the form of warm wetness on his cheeks.

Dazai’s hand isn’t pushed away like it would be any other time. Right now he desperately needs the contact, whether he’ll ever admit it or not.]

You’d have just fucking died and left me there?! Why the hell would I want that?? You stupid bastard!!

[Chuuya can’t help the way his voice wavers now, as shaky and fragile as the legs of a newborn deer. Never has Chuuya ever sounded so utterly helpless.]

I hated you for so long because of what you did, and I hated Odasaku for being close to you. And it was all for nothing.

[Perhaps Chuuya still does resent Odasaku’s bond with Dazai even now, but how can he feel good about hating a dead man?]

You did it for him too, right? Because you hated the boss for setting it up.

[Blue eyes, welled up with tears, fix on Dazai’s face, searching for answers. Even now there’s so many things about about Dazai that Chuuya doesn’t know, and it’s not going to fly anymore.]

You joined the ADA because of him.

[cassus]

It was all I could do to keep you safe.

[ A hand can only do so much to gather up Chuuya's tears like rainwater, pouring down features that Dazai has memorized like a mantra, recited endlessly within his mind as if Chuuya's face is a prayer he knows by heart and worships just as much. So his mouth lands there, kissing slow and soft where warm tears bathe his skin in streaks of wet skin-hot salt.

The feel of his mouth is just as warm when he kisses each tear away. And every touch is a promise or plea, speaking only I love you. I need you. I can't be without you. Slow caresses and presses of lips skim from the apples of cheeks down to a jawline where they have to be caught on the tip of his tongue. The mood isn't one that's meant to be anything but intimate; driven home all the more when he gently draws Chuuya's hat from the top of his head to cast it ( carefully and with a sure aim ) atop a blanket he's dropped, half unfolded, at his feet.

The hand which had upheld it's outpost against one cheek slides onward, delving into deep rolling waves of ginger hair almost clutched within his grasp. It's joined by a second, until soon enough fingers are left to card through Chuuya's hair in such a way that there is no denying the adoration in every soft rake of nails at his nape or the stroke of fingertips all the way down to the very ends of every strand. ]

I couldn't stay. [ Words whisper low, pinched with the pain of heartache left festering for what feels like eons. ] And I couldn't bring you.

[ It's a poor excuse and he knows it. But anything was worth the sacrifice if it meant Chuuya was extracted from the cross-hairs of Mori's line of fire. As valuable an asset he might be to the Port Mafia, Dazai knows in the very marrow of his bones, that Mori would willingly sacrifice anyone within his ranks. Not even a pawn with all the power, strength of heart and loyalty that Chuuya possessed was immune. A split second of deliberation would be all the time it took for Mori to perceive him as a liability, before signing Chuuya's death warrant by labeling him a traitor too. It'd be worth it simply to maintain his power and proceed playing his pieces all the way to a glorious checkmate. If Chuuya had wavered, aligned himself with Dazai in any way feasible, or daresay learned of Mori's machinations, his head would have rolled alongside Oda's.

So it was worth it. Every lonely night. Every year without contact. All to know Chuuya still breathed every breath his lungs craved, and the often too-soft heart of his continued to steadfastly beat within a chest Dazai had mapped out like the stars within a constellation, more times than hands can remember. ]

He spent his last words telling me to be a better man.

[ But Chuuya has spent all his time being jealous of someone that was never him, who never held Dazai's heart securely in his hands, from the moment they met as children. He's wanted Chuuya from the start, all that time ago. And whatever place Oda held within his world, as mentor and a paternal guiding force that Mori could never be, the man had not once taken over Chuuya's. No matter how it had appeared, he'd never replaced one man for the other. ]

I owed it to him, to try.

[thetaintedsorrow]

[The feel of Dazai’s lips pressing soft and sweet against his skin is a stark contrast to the heated, borderline vicious bites that he’s grown accustomed to from his partner, but they’re no less effective in stirring up a powerful tidal wave of emotions. Instead of desire and lust he finds himself filled with the overwhelming need for closeness, as if that could somehow cleanse the festering wounds left behind by the man that Chuuya had once hated with all his heart. Apologies are like bandaids on bullet holes, but in time even the deepest scars can fade if given to chance to close up and heal instead of being torn open time and again.

Chuuya stiffens when his hat is removed, feeling much like a child suddenly without his security blanket, but he doesn’t chase after it, instead letting himself get swept up in the flurry of emotions brought about by Dazai’s fingers threading through his hair like they’ve belonged there all along. The tears just never seem to stop, but Chuuya has gone so long without crying that he thinks one good flood of tears is well-deserved. He understands now, why Dazai did what he did. Much as he despises the fact that he’d been left alone, the reasons why are undeniably solid.

Dazai did what he did for him. Oda was the push he’d needed, but Chuuya was the reason he kept going.

God. Fuck. He hates this so much...]

You think I was the only one that hurt when you left?

[Dazai should know exactly the kind of impact his departure had had on Akutagawa as well, but whereas Dazai had been a mentor bordering on creator to the starving orphan he’d plucked from the streets, Chuuya had seen him as a friend, a partner, and a man he’d come to love. A man that he’d always thought had loved Odasaku more than anyone or anything in the world, all because he’d been blind to the truth.

With a shuddering sigh Chuuya rests his head against Dazai’s chest, warm tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.]

All I ever wanted was for you to look at me the way I saw you look at Odasaku, and now you’re telling me that I was the reason you left. What am I supposed to think?

[It’s all he can do to stay standing, when the shock of the weight being lifted off his shoulders threatens to knock him over.]

The boss could’ve asked me to use Corruption at any time. Then what? I would’ve been dead anyway.

[There’s a bitterness there, but it’s not nearly as sharp as it once was.]

[cassus]

[ Regardless of who mourned the loss of him, be it the lover Chuuya had always been or the fledgling pupil taken under Dazai's wing, Mori hadn't exactly given Dazai a choice in abandoning them. He was a threat, chased out as a potential rival in the way two alphas or dominant males fight for residency, as they instinctively know they can't reside in the same claimed territory. It's a crude analogy, but however grisly, the point is that it's true. They both knew it would only take time before Dazai slit Mori's throat after the darkness finally consumed him, claiming the very throne which his mentor had groomed him for.

Thankfully he'd taught Akutagawa well. Not in the sense of being kind. That would have gotten him killed faster than letting him be naturally feral; but he'd given Akutagawa the greatest gift he could: Lessons of survival. And the boy had, perhaps purely because Dazai has been as unforgiving as Mori, never allowing Akutagawa to be anything but a creature who could live against all odds. And that took brutality at a level he does regret, with hindsight at his back. But what can you do when cruelty is the only kindness; when it had saved both his loyal lapdog and lover at the same time? ]

I'm looking now. And you're the only one I see.

[ The warmth of his palm settles against that long line of Chuuya's neck, sliding upward to brush the cascade of pale, reddish locks aside. Only then can he cradle the back of Chuuya's head, encouraging the press of a tear-streaked face against him with the presence of that hand and the slightest constant pressure. He wants Chuuya this close, or perhaps much nearer still. ]

Still don't know your own worth, do you Chuuya?

[ The weakening of knees is enough for Dazai to guide them both into kneeling. But the towel unfurled upon chilled sand has room just enough to fit one occupant. So he tells himself that's the reason for scooping Chuuya up into his arms as if weightless, for the sheer sake of pulling him into Dazai's awaiting lap. But while that may be a reasonable excuse for their position, it isn't for how his free arm slides around Chuuya's small body. Nor does it explain why Dazai ends up clutching him desperately, as though his very life is wholly dependent upon it. Yet without these permissions they somehow still mesh like two halves made whole, leaving Dazai almost encircling his partner within a tight embrace, with fingers curling into clothes and palms pressing in tight. ]

Your greatest strength isn't an ability... It's this.

[ The palm of Dazai's hand slides over-top the center of Chuuya's sternum, only to draw right-bound enough that it can settle upon his heart. This is what makes Chuuya all that he is. His heart is the real source of his every success. That alone is responsible for how he'd managed to climb from the ashes of nothingness ( no name, no past, nor any childhood to grow from ), and rise to greatness within one of Japan's most ruthless crime syndicates, all without forsaking his humanity in the process. He hadn't done so by schemes or backstabbing, nor stepping on others who trusted him, or using people with the petty manipulations and mind-games which Mori and his pupil played best. Chuuya's greatest strength was the inexplicable morality at his core. And if the circumstances had been flipped to the point Chuuya would have joined the ADA in his stead, or perhaps years ago in place of joining the Mafia, it may have been a better fit than even the Port Mafia.

Because deep down Chuuya is a better man than Dazai has ever pretended to be, not for the lack of blood on his hands or any ridiculous innocent and sinless life where lives weren't taken by a mere order from above. But Chuuya cared. He had a moral compass, he cared about honor and truth and honesty in ways Dazai still struggles to put weight into.

And that's worth more than it's weight in gold, and any cold calculating rule which would have been perfect, flawless to the letter, but chillingly devoid of Chuuya's heart, had he led instead. ]

I know he only saw potential in you, no matter how much you saw nothing but shortcomings. [ Reluctantly, because it's so honest. ] And so did I.

[ Mori played his hands carefully, and would see it as a waste to squander someone like his prior partner ( loyal, a trusted sub-leader in his executive position, and a power-house of awe-inspiring abilities ) in such a pathetic way. He knows Mori would perceive it to be a pathetic move, born of panic and poor planning, unless every single alternative in his playbook had been used up and squandered. And the odds of Mori running out of schemes and being backed into a corner enough to have Chuuya enact a suicide mission by unleashing Corruption was as feasible as Dazai rejoining the Mafia. That, and unlike Dazai, his prior partner's will to live was a force unto itself. The likelihood of him giving up and embracing death against even impossible odds was laughably low.

Not only that, it's simple strategy 101: You don't allow your greatest resources to self-destruct to merely win small-scale skirmishes. Not when they're more valuable kept and cared for, put to use in ways that don't destroy it. It'd be like using a battleship as a battering ram to sink a tugboat. And Chuuya was worth worlds more in small doses than used up in a flash, like a candle burnt at both ends, just to gain a little more light.

Both of these things had been taken into account, and had the answers been different to the point where Chuuya was in greater danger there, his solo escape may have included a second party. But Dazai hadn't worried. He'd imagined every scenario, plotted out every possible course.

The odds of Chuuya's demise raised only with him. Not without. ]

You'd have been a better leader than either of Mori or myself.