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dazaii-sann · 3 years

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DAZAI x CHUUYA FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [LOVE OR GUILT]

Blue.

Brown.

Green.

Yellow.

Orange.

Varied colors blended with each other like a 24-color palette. The wind blew from the west, causing the nearby tree leaves to dance along with the non-existent beat. The blue, clear water rampaged in silence, creating an almost seemingly soft serenade. A huge shining orb in the distance was split in half, projecting its reflection on the calm, unmoving water from below.

The whole place is quiet as if every single living soul had already vacated the area.

Well, not quite.

Two figures stood beneath a tree's shadow, taking refuge and solace after a whole day of struggles. The calm, light afternoon breeze soothe their souls as they look at the orange-painted sky.

Silence ensues but for them, it's what they need.

The quiet rage of the sea.

The hushing sound of overlapping leaves.

The way the remaining rays of the dusk kiss their flesh.

The sound of their even breathing.

Sounds romantic, right?

It is, except for one thing.

Everything, everything seems to retain its brilliance but something decided to exclude itself from that small band of glow.

A redhead's eyes… It's empty. The very exact opposite to his surrounding's radiance.

Meanwhile, the brunet beside him stood still, unmoving, as if he's already accustomed to that kind of scenario.

But is he?

No. Definitely not. Not in a million years.

Seeing his ex-partner like that made his knees wobble. All the remaining courage in his body had left him that even panning his head to Chuuya became an impossible task.

The guilt is slowly consuming him, pulling him into a world far more hellish than hell itself.

They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the setting sun completely vanished into existence and was dethroned by a huge dark blanket covered with stars. The moon is in its crescent form, seems incomplete but whole all the same.

The coldness of the night embraced the two up to their bones, causing them to shiver.

"It's getting cold, Chuuya. Let's go inside?" The brunet proposed without looking at Chuuya.

He can't. Or maybe he actually can, but he chose not to.

Chuuya nods his head slightly and Dazai saw that movement from his eyes' corners.

Dazai's feet move in front of Chuuya's rear. With a slight push, the wheels on Chuuya's seat were sent into motion, carrying Chuuya's body along with it. Trails of the redhead's wheelchair and the brunet's footprints were engraved in the shore's sand and were immediately erased by the wave's arrival.

In just a few minutes, they reached a small house built near the shore. From its size, one can conclude that its interior can only shelter two people at once.

Upon entering the house, Dazai turned on the lights that he closed before going outside with Chuuya this afternoon. It has a simple structure. A kitchen, two couches and a table in between them, the comfort room, and a shared bedroom.

Dazai carefully lifts Chuuya's body and transfer it to one of the couches.

"You're so light, Chuuya~ Am I not feeding you well?" Dazai tried to annoy Chuuya like he used to back in the days but the redhead's expressions didn't even change. Not even a single move in his facial muscles. The brunet knew from the very start, that he could no longer hear Chuuya's annoyed response coming from his own mouth but he's still hoping, hoping that he could still hear Chuuya's voice one more time.

Chuuya's just like a lump of flesh without a soul inside of it. It is said that the soul is the trigger of an ability.

Maybe that's the exact reason why Chuuya lost his.

Ah no… There's no one to be blamed but Dazai.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

After moving Chuuya in a comfortable position, Dazai left him and went straight to the kitchen.

Dazai was a bad cook. Everyone must ready their pitiful stomach before taking in Dazai's food. Not only that but for the aftermath (puking included). But who would eat those kinds of stuff (can't consider them as "food") in the first place?

Everything changed when he started to live and take care of Chuuya over the past 3 years. He learned how to prepare varied homemade viands. Well, he doesn't want the redhead to eat canned goods every single day!

Dazai turned on the flame and let the ingredients fly and land on the pan's heated surface. He hummed a familiar tune, hoping that Chuuya might remember its tune but to no avail.

Dazai arranged the food into a plate and went to the redhead, utensils in his other hand.

Without a word, he scooped a spoonful and brought it closer to Chuuya's mouth.

"Say ah~"

If anyone could see this kind of scenario, the brunet looks like he's feeding a 3-month old baby.

"Well, he's indeed a baby," Dazai said at the back of his mind while moving the spoon back and forth.

After that dinner, Dazai once again carried Chuuya to their bed. It's not that big, but not too small. Just enough for the two of them.

Dazai then wrapped his arms around Chuuya's body. To give him warmth, a human's warmth to liberate the coldness of the night.

With the brunet's slender arms encircled around the redhead's body, and Chuuya's head leaning against Dazai's shoulder, they fall asleep.

Almost at the same time.

***

For three years, the very same sequence of events happened.

Watching the sunrise and sunset together.

Helping him to eat his own food.

And then finally, cradling each other until they got consumed by the God of Sleep.

Have they grown tired of it, especially Dazai?

Even he doesn't know the answer. He was known as the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia, someone who can see through everything. But why can't his superior, almost inhumane mind comprehend this feeling of longing?

Longing for what?

Is it for the return of his ex-partner's glory or the longing to return to his old life?

Maybe, but maybe not.

Dazai thought that the same exact happenings will happen again for today, and the days after that.

But he's wrong.

On with their usual routine, they watch the sun's tiny movement, trying to pull itself up higher in the sky as if it's trying to assert dominance and power. Somehow, the sunrise resembles Dazai every time he rose to bed, struggling his way up like he was being pulled down by the Earth's gravity. To make it less fancy, he's just simply lazy.

"C-chuuya… Is that you?"

Dazai froze, literally.

T-that voice…

Dazai panned his head to where the sound originated.

"A-ane…san…"

Kouyou smiled, but there's hidden remorse in it. The intensity of her eyes changed the moment it landed on Chuuya's frail body.

She looked away and face the brunet once more.

"It's been a while, demon."

***

"So… You're still taking care of him?" Kouyou sat in one of the couches inside of their house.

"Mm…" A simple nod is the only response that he could offer. He's not in the right mood to entertain a conversation right now, especially to those with whom he had ties.

Despite his seemingly uninterested remarks, he's still on the lookout. Who knows? Kouyou might try to do something funny. As for Chuuya, he doubts that this woman will do such a thing.

"I see… I see…" At the same time, a mocking laugh escaped out of her lips. Dazai, on the other hand, painted confusion throughout his face.

"It's all your fault anyway. You've got to clean your own mess and atone with what you had done."

Dazai clenched his fist as tightly as he could.

"Why are you still taking care of him?"

Dazai's lips went agape, trying to utter a word or two but failed miserably.

Why then? What keeps him from escaping and leaving Chuuya behind?

He doesn't know.

"I…"

"Do you love him?" Kouyou's question streak kept on bugging Dazai's feelings.

Dazai's so sure of that fact not until Kouyou retorted once more.

"Or is it because of guilt?"

Guilt, huh?

The brunet said no more and silence governed the two of them.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

***

Darkness… Just pure darkness…

Or at least, that's what Chuuya sees.

He can't feel anything, nor grasp reality. He's just there, floating in the middle of nothingness. But amidst that abyss, he can feel his bones cracking, his body collapsing, and his blood leaking out of his system. The pain must be immeasurable and unbearable but none of those physical pains can equal his suffering.

He hates the dark, the emptiness because it always made him feel alone.

He can hear a huge crowd of people screaming at the top of their lungs as if their lives are in danger of death.

Yes, that's actually the case.

They're fleeing, away from the young boy in the middle of that immense object and that enemy he's battling against.

Their abilities clashed and the fiery battle caused a deal of damage to the establishments and facilities in the city, but Chuuya came out victorious. Yokohama is safe once again. The civilians already evacuated, thus no casualties recorded.

Everything's fine now.

But Chuuya's still not.

He's on his limit, and his rampage will continue up to the end of his life.

He had already accepted his fate, that corruption will disappear along with his existence but a bandaged hand tamed him.

But it's already late.

Chuuya got hospitalized after that. His life was saved, but his nervous system was badly affected.

Dazai couldn't help but blame himself. He was doing a lot of paper works at the armed detective agency's office (forced by Kunikida of course) but the unexpected foe barged its way to Yokohoma without even knocking.

That's why he's late to arrive at the scene.

Why did Chuuya activate his corrupted form without him?

He's such an idiot, an utter idiot…

But he's far worse than that.

***

"Chuuya~ Let's go outside?" Dazai asked his ex-partner but the latter shook his head weakly, much to the former's surprise. It's the first time Chuuya declined his invitation.

Instead of going outside, Chuuya points his finger to their room's direction, by which, Dazai understood and followed. Maybe Chuuya is just sick of watching the sun's routinary motion every day or he just wants to rest.

To ease his boredom, Dazai cooked for their supper, but a creaking sound came out from Chuuya's location.

Dazai dropped the spatula in hand and sprinted to their bedroom only to find Chuuya scribbling something on a small piece of paper. Because of his malfunctioning muscles, the pen he used created a noise as it dropped on the floor.

"Chuuya? What are you doi-" Dazai is stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw the letters inscribed on his paper. Beside the redhead is a small calendar with eighteen days crossed out for the month of June.

Today's June 19. Dazai's birthday.

"Ha…" Chuuya struggled to say something with his shivering and shaky voice. "Ha…ppy bir-th-da…y, sh-itt…y mac…ke-rel."

Dazai's heart starts to pound harder as if it wants to leap out of his ribcage. His head feels so fuzzy, but light at the time.

What's this feeling…?

Sadness?

Happiness?

Longing?

But Dazai knew that it's more than that.

"Now demon… Which one is it?"

"Ane-san… I already know the answer." He said at the back of his mind before embracing the redhead. He leaned closer to the former executive's ear and whispered, "Thank you, chibi."

Chuuya might not be able to restore his condition the way it once was but for Dazai, that doesn't matter now.

Whether Chuuya the petite mafia executive who kept on bickering with him back in the days or the Chuuya who's struggling to write a single sentence of greeting over a sheet of paper… Dazai's always fond of him, whatever the version.

And that will not change until the end of time.

-END-

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #double black #dazai x chuuya #bungo stray dogs

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cakers-2000 · 4 years

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~Time Flies~ (Chuuya X Fem!Reader)

I’m just really proud of how this came out so please enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could remember the day you met Chuuya Nakahara like it was yesterday.

You were new to the Port Mafia. Well, sort of new.

You had hung around the Port Mafia plenty of times in your young life. Your father was their lowest ranking member Oda Sakunosuke so you had already been introduced to at least Ango Sakaguchi and the suicidal maniac himself Dazai Osamu. You hung around Dazai quite a lot, he was around your age and he always seemed to be hanging around your father so it wasn't too long before some kind of relationship started to bloom between the two of you. It wasn't too long either before you found yourself being invited to join the Port Mafia. And it again wasn't too long before you accepted and joined the organization.

Your fighting was trash, but you spoke extremely eloquently and so you became a low ranking spy. Gathering information would be a cinch, but you'd have to work on your fighting skills.

But it took a few more years before you met Chuuya.

Even at the age of 15 he was loud. Arrogant and a bit of a show off. but despite that you strangely found yourself drawn to him. But why?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first he was rather cold to you. When you tried to introduce yourself he shrugged you off, merely replying to your enthusiastic hello with a 'piss off'.

It wasn't the best first greeting.

But you persisted.

You made it a personal mission to bug the boy at least once every day and sure enough, your dumb idea worked. He began to reciprocate your greetings and would even hold conversation with you though most of the time he looked extremely uninterested and spoke in a monotone and bored voice.

But on very rare occasions you would see his lips curve into a smile as he listened to you ramble on and on. True smiles of Chuuya joy were very rare and hard to come by.

Though it did take an awful lot of time, your relationship with Chuuya Nakahara began to form.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He's gone (Y/N). He's fucking gone."

You perked your head up at the sound of Chuuya stumbling into your bedroom. You hadn't even invited the boy through the front door, but you only sighed to yourself. Of course he would just let himself in. He leaned himself against the door frame, bottle of wine in one hand while his other hand held onto his phone with a tight grip.

"Chuuya are you okay?"

You cautiously approached the older boy with nothing but concern in your eyes. He swayed precariously back and forth, ready to topple over at any moment.

"That asshole left without saying a word."

The closer you got to him the stronger the scent of alcohol became. The bottle he currently held hadn't even been opened yet, but he was drunk off his ass.

"Chuuya, maybe you should lie down."

"I don't need to lie down, I need to get a hold of that bastard. How could he just leave me like that?"

His words were slurred. He attempted to take an angry step forward but nearly fell. You panicked, letting out a small 'eep' and ran in front of him so that he could fall in your arms rather than on the hardwood floor. He didn't move himself from your grip and the bottle in his hand fell to the floor, though thankfully it didn't so much as crack.

"Are you... Are you talking about Dazai?"

"Who else would I be talking about? That no good dirty..."

His voice became muffled as he turned his head forward so that he was practically speaking into your chest and you let out a shaky sigh, your cheeks a bright red. Jesus Christ why me?

You attempted to stand the boy back upwards but his arms wrapped themselves firmly around your waist as he once more turned his head to the side.

"I just need a drink. Juuuuuuust one, then I'll go find that damn asshole and teach him a lesson."

"Chuuya you've already had a drink."

"I just need oneeeeee."

"Chuuya you're drunk."

He shot his head backwards so that he was locking up at you, a look of offense on his features. "I'm not drunk. I haven't even had a... a... a drip."

You couldn't help but laugh at his slurred and broken speech. "You mean drop."

He giggled to himself, finding something amusing but you had no clue what he was laughing about.

"Ooooookay, we're putting you to bed."

This time he didn't fight against you, his body seemed to agree and you helped him stumble over to your bed and helped him lay down before throwing the covers on top of him.

He was out the second his head hit the soft pillow. You smiled slightly at the sight. He looked so peaceful as he slept, nothing like the loud and cocky man that you knew when he was awake. You let out a sigh and grabbed the book you had been reading from off of the comfy mattress and shook your head, preparing to spend the rest of your night on the couch.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

You would never in a million years utter those words to him while he was awake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Chuuya I swear to god if you say one more fucking word..."

He really did test your patience sometimes.

"You're a fucking idiot you know that?"

And sometimes his words could hurt.

"Excuse me!? How am I the idiot!? You're the one fucking bleeding out because you won't go to a fucking hospital!"

"You're the one who wouldn't move! What kind of dumbass sees someone aiming at them with a fucking gun AND STAYS IN THE SAME SPOT!? You're lucky I was there to save your ass!"

"I had things under control!"

You felt his arm, that was currently swung around your shoulders, tense as his anger rose. "Under control!? He was going to shoot you! They had you found out! How is that under control!?"

"I COULD'VE HANDLED IT!"

You both froze for a second. It took a lot for you to lose your cool, especially for you to lose it at him. In fact, that was the first time you had ever screamed at him like that. You turned your head away from his gaze, instead looking on the other side of you.

"I don't need you guys babying me like my dad did alright? I can take care of myself..."

He snickered to himself and you turned to glare at him but found that he had a smile on his face. And he was laughing.

"What the hell is so funny!?"

"I don't 'baby you'."

"Wha- YES YOU DO! You're the biggest culprit asshole! God I can't even go on my own mission without you trailing me!"

"(Y/N) I'm not an idiot." His gaze fixed directly on you, somewhat harsh and you looked everywhere but at him. "I know what you are and aren't capable of. You don't have the skills yet to be taking on jobs without any kind of protection. It's not babying you."

"Oh come on Chuuya! I've been in the same rank since I was 16! Mori's never going to let me go out on my own!"

"Because you aren't ready." He gestured down to his stomach, the wound still clear and he grit his teeth as he started to move the both of you forwards again. "This is clearly a testimony. What were you going to do if I hadn't been there?"

"Well..."

"Exactly."

You sighed and fixed your gaze onto the ground, falling into silence now as you couldn't argue against his words, though he could tell you were still upset.

"I guess... I do KIND OF baby you."

You smiled a tad bit and turned to face him, winking towards him with a cheeky smile. "It's cause you love me huh?"

You had never seen his face so red before.

"NO! THAT'S NOT IT! I just... I just think Oda would've appreciated it..."

"You barely knew my dad Chuuya."

"IT'S NOT BECAUSE I LIKE YOU DUMBASS! God I never should've even said anything to begin with!"

You only laughed at his hostile and angry tone and listened to him yell at you as you steered him in the direction of the nearest hospital. There was no way in hell you were going to let his stubborn ass get away from receiving treatment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't long after your visit to the hospital and Chuuya had gotten himself stitched up that he confessed his feelings to you, and your romantic relationship truly blossomed.

You were surprised to find that most of the Port Mafia supported the two of you, and even more surprised to find that there was a certain Executive that didn't support you.

"I'm busy you know."

You smiled cheekily as you sat in his lap, holding onto his cheeks as you nuzzled his nose with your own. Normally in the office setting he would push you away, he'd barely hold your hand in front of his fellow Executives and subordinates but you were sat in his own personal office, in a space all your own.

"I went for a walk today. You'll never guess what I found."

"You want to bring another cat home?"

You nodded and pressed your forehead against his own, the cheeky smile still there. "How did you know?"

"(Y/N), we don't need another cat."

"But Chuuya she was an old lady! It's harder for the older cats to find a home!"

"No (Y/N)."

You pulled your face away from his and crossed your arms over your chest, slightly pouting. "Oda would've let me bring her home..."

He chuckled at your pouty tone and moved his face closer to yours, clasping your hands in his own but stopped at the creaking sound of his door opening. His smile instantly fell to a thunderous glare and he looked over your head to see who had interrupted your moment without so much as a knock.

"What do you want, Old Lady?"

There was only one person Chuuya called Old Lady. You turned yourself around to see Kouyou standing there, her pink kimono sleeve covering her mouth as she gave the two of you a disapproving stare.

"Chuuya, what are these rumors I hear?"

His hands fell to your waist and he gently pushed you to the side. You got the hint and stood up off of his lap and instead sat on his desk.

"Rumors?"

Her eyes fell to you, the disapproving look worsening and you couldn't help but feel a tad bit self conscious.

"If a Mafia Executive is going to be fooling around with anyone, shouldn't it at least be with another Executive? Not a..." Her eyes stayed fixed on you for awhile and you could tell by Chuuya's balled up fists that he was already irked. "Not a subordinate?"

"My personal life has nothing to do with you. What gives you the right to-"

"Chuuya."

She interrupted him mid sentence and he grit his teeth. You could hear him audibly growling in anger. You placed your hand on top of one of his, hoping to calm him though it seemed to do nothing or very little at all.

"I practically raised you from the age of 15 onward. I think I know what and who is best for you. And it's not..." She pondered in her head for a bit, seeming to find the right words but sighed. "Her."

You frowned at her harsh tone. "Hey..."

"She simply isn't good enough for you Dear. I raised you to only accept the finer things in life did I not? There are plenty of females out there worth your affection, but she is not one of them. A subordinate is equal to a peasant. An executive is equal to a king. A peasant and a king just don't belong together."

You couldn't lie. Her words hurt. You stared down at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes that had refused to leave your form since she first entered the room. The more she talked the more anger that festered within him until he popped.

"SHUT UP!"

She was shocked at his outburst and finally drew her eyes away from you and onto him. "Excuse me?"

"I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. I get to choose who is and isn't best for me, it isn't your place. You may have raised me but that doesn't mean I have to give a shit about your opinion. I'm not going to tolerate you talking shit about my girlfriend and spewing bullshit about how she 'isn't good enough for me'. That's nothing but bullshit lies." He let out a scoff, and pointed towards his office door that had still been left open. A few subordinates had their heads poked around the doorframe, watching the scene unfold before them. "Get out."

Kouyou stared at him in obvious shock, though not moving an inch. His temper was already shot. The red aura of his ability surrounded his body and the floor around him crumbled to pieces.

And she finally got the message. She sauntered out of the room, not without giving you one last disapproving stare and closed the door behind her.

You cautiously got up off of the desk as the aura faded away and wrapped your arms around him tightly in both a way to calm his nerves and to say thank you. He instantly hugged you back, allowing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry..."

Though your voice was muffled he could still hear you speak. "It's okay Chuuya, it's not your fault. I never really liked Kouyou anyways."

He chuckled as your breath hit his skin and nuzzled your hair with his nose. "I know but... You shouldn't have had to listen to that in the first place."

You smiled and moved so that you were facing him and grabbed his face in your hands. You placed a sweet kiss on his lips, lingering for a second when you pulled away as you saw a rare smile fall onto his face. "I'm just glad you stuck up for me..."

"Well I wasn't just going to let her get away with running her mouth."

You giggled and kissed his cheek before resting your head on his chest, your smile only growing as his arms hugged you tighter in a protective embrace. "I love you Chuuya."

"I love you too Princess."

~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@redflannel

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs scenario

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drangues · 3 years

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AAAHHH I LOVE YOU TOO!!! Thank you for the ability, may it forever work in tandem with my meds. But anyways- Yes, Lucy is Amazing and she deserves more focus and also the ability to Vibe Check Dazai as she feels is needed. Also!!! That’s exACTLY what I was thinking with the dancing, he doesn’t care that Atsushi has never danced or that it’s the middle of the night, he just likes spending time with Atsushi and making memories and falling in love. (Nyanon, 1/4)

Which is so much more valuable than an experienced dance partner, to him? He’d chose Atsushi and their kitchen on a full moon over a random dance expert in a lavish ballroom any day,, I love them so much, it’s like you said- Atsushi and Dazai are a comfort ship for me and something about them and thinking about them being Domestic Boyfriends while they just cuddle in bed is,, So nice,,, It’s What They Deserve. (Nyanon, 2/4)

(And! No problem, I understand the pain of forgetting to do stuff (or forgetting that you already did something) far too much, it’d be mean to judge you for it. I’m glad you’re doing better, though! That’s always nice to hear.) Anyways, that sounds. Exactly like them. And I’m torn on who’d be better at faking it, because Dazai is,, Dazai, and Kyouka has Demon Snow. But I also feel that Kunikida would be a dark horse and be Very Good at scaring the hell out of everyone you know??? (Nyanon, 3/4)

I mean, his ability would definitely help, he can make Almost Anything. Moving on to another thing, though- An AU Concept, actually, since a really cute Dazatsu idea came to mind and I Had To Share: Photography student!Dazai and his model-muse!Atsushi, who is Very Flustered over the cute guy who keeps insisting that he be the model in his pictures? Aren’t there prettier people??? Dazai, meanwhile, is Head Over Heels but he doesn’t know how to Actually ask out his lovely muse. (Nyanon, 4/4)

“he just likes falling in love” it’s ok. u can say you want me murdered. you can confess that you murdered me. it’s fine. no its okay. break it. ITS FINE BR EA KIT-

hmmm i feel like kunikida would be very subtle in his pranks at the office, that kinda creepy and eerie feeling?? he would make someone get that and then B A M, some sort of scare (he would probably use it as revenge for if they slacked off at work or were asses, or just as a way for him to destress and have Fun. i love him.) dazai and kyouka would be too obvious, anyone would know it’s them because.,,,while their pranks are Scary-ish it’s still obvious it’s them. especially when they end up giggling about it the next day

(also i bet there would be a time where dazai and kunikida end up working together to scare anyone thats left in the office, not that they wanted to, it just happened and theyre Not happy about it that much. but they do it and they manage to scare whoever it was- by the very startled high pitched squeak makes them think it was kyouka, yosano, kenji or maybe atsushi that was their victim. only to see it was fukuzawa. they swear theyll never tell anyone about this)

I B E T dazai was out up in one of the trees of campus, just trying to snap some shots. and akutagawa is his “subordinate” (but instead it’s just dazai being a shit mentor but amazing photographer that akutagawa admires, but akutagawa is D O N E with dazai because he always does risky things and runs off without any explanation and akutagawa always gotta catch up) and telling him to get down from the tree, but to no avail, so instead he also starts snapping some shots

dazai with his Mighty Camera spots chuuya and is like “hehe lets get an ugly pic of him to print out” and as he zooms out he spots atsushi beside chuuya and is like H M ?? whos TH A T. and atsushi then Laughs, and dazai just loses footing and falls down from the tree because woa. that was the most beautiful person hes ever S E E N.

akutagawa: dazai are you okay do you need to go to the hospital w- dazai: who akutagawa: what dazai, pointing aggressively to where chuuya is with atsushi: W H O akutagawa: oh thats atsushi, hes in my english lit class dazai, whos sad he didnt get a photo of atsushi: i want him. Now akutagawa, scared for his classmate: u h oka-

and thus dazai just approaches atsushi and is like “LET ME PHOTOGRAPH YOU N O W .”

#anon #ask #ask anon #anon ask #bsd #nyanon #nyatsushi anon

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drabblesanddreams · 5 years

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Old life, new world - Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Hey everyone, this is a commission that i wrote for the lovely @moonlittxger :) I hope you like the way it turned out! If anyone wishes for a commission please send me a pm and ill text back with more details :)

If you wish to support heres my Kofi

Word count: 2.3 K

TW: slight form of Self harm, depressing thoughts, angst, read at your own risk

Summary: When you get hit by a bus and end up in a new world, Chuuya is the one who saves you and over time you find your disdain for the man turn into something more warm and tender- a story over 6 months.

Six months

“Hey,”

Though the sudden greeting managed to break you out of the despairing thoughts that managed to fall one after another in the alignment of your mind, your body barely budged an inch. You slowly blinked, (E/C)’s becoming hazy once more as you lost yourself between the stone crevices of the prison wall and the deep, growing fissures of your own sanity.

You easily fell back into dwelling around the concept of what was now and what was then.

You replayed the facts over and over again in your head.

You had been struck by a bus, no one's fault but your own for rushing across the street without looking at all in upmost urgency so that you would make it to work on time and hopefully, avoid the wicked wrath of your boss.

You remember the hot rush of pain that flooded your senses and every nerve before blacking out, courtesy of your head hitting the asphalt.

When you woke up, you half-expected to be in a hospital room. But instead, you were back on the roads, lying on your back as your eyes became lost in the too-blue sky above. It was serene, peaceful even.

And then someone was honking for you to ‘get the fuck off the roads you dumbass!’

Reality slid back into place and you wondered what the hell just happened. But you didn’t have the time nor expense to be dwelling over it because one look at your watch, you blanched and realized you were late of work.

However, when you arrived at your workplace, your manager stared at you in pure confusion, wondering why you were trying to clock in. When you returned her comment with equal confusion, her eyebrows stitched together in annoyance as she pushed you out of the door muttering about “stupid brats and pulling their pranks again,”

Safe to say you were defiantly perplexed and thought to yourself that this must be her way of firing you.

It only got worse and more harrowing afterwards, for when you made your way back home you were stopped in place by the big blue sold! Sign outside your estate. When you tried phoning your mother about what was going on, your heart raced ever so quickly and nearly stopped in its thundering mission when you heard the voice on the other side, proclaiming that the number was disconnected and no longer in service.

Afterwards, you shut your eyes tightly and tugged hard at your head of hair, hoping to wake up from whatever the fuck was happening. You remember the emotions lurching throughout your body then. The tears that threatened to escape the corner of your eyes, the feeling that you were suffocating as if you couldn’t get enough air.

It wasn’t until you were walking in the dark of the city that you had no idea where to go or what to do. When an older gentleman had cornered you in an ally way, you completely freaked as he attempted to lay his hands on you. Until a moment of pure panic, something worse seemed to have happened.

A foreign pressure on your back, like you had an extension of some limbs. When you looked back, you felt like you were going to blank out, which you then did within the next thirty seconds.

Because there, on your back was a translucent pair of chrysanthemum blue wings, butterfly in shape.

The older man then growled at you, a ferocious sound from the bottom of his throat as he grabbed your head, muttering “ability user,” then smashed it against the ally-way wall.

Back in the prison cell, the wound on your head was now healed, and that’s how you figured your pair of wings came with the ability of slight regeneration. You didn’t forget the way your attacker muttered ability user like it was some sort of disease. He mentioned to his colleagues that they had to be very careful so that dammed detective agency didn’t figure out of their plans to traffic you out of the city.

You put two and two together afterwards and realized the exact sort of hell you were in. You hypothesized that you must’ve died, or must’ve ended up in one long, freakish dream.

For the first bit in the prison cell, you amused yourself half-heartedly by digging your nails into your palm, deep enough to draw blood and severe enough that your new-found abilities would take over and repair the torn skin, centimetre by centimetre in the expense of about a minute.

You were still trying to come to terms with the fact that you were never going to see your family again. The burden of this thought weighed on your soul like an anchor pulling down the mass of a ship.

“Hey,” he called out again this time more … Get the fuck up, we’re leaving.”

This time you spared the stranger a glance.

He was flanked in black dress pants, a vest, and a long black coat. From underneath that black hat peaked out orange hair, long enough that it curled slightly around his pale neck. He was short, petit even as he buried his hands in the pocket of his trousers, scowling at you with disdain.

What a joke, Chuuya Nakahara was here.

You gazed up at him for a moment longer, a thousand questions billowing in your mind but instead you remained quiet.

He kicked the cell bars, now fully annoyed, “I said get the fuck up,” he ordered, and you snorted, rolling your eyes as you lolled your head over to him.

“Or what,” you couldn’t help but say sarcastically, “You’ll put me in prison?”

He huffed, drawing a key from his pocket and easily unlocking the chain door as he made his way over to you, harshly grabbing you by the arm and pulling you up. You did little to protest this, no longer finding the will to fight back any longer. You would accept whatever fate had in store for you with open arms.

“Haha, very funny smartass,” he rolled his eyes as he dragged you out of the prison cell and out the corridor.

As the both of you made your way down the corridor, you caught sight of some of the guards who had previously been tasked with watching over you, now on the ground and slouched over their stomachs, chin resting on their chests, sleeping away.

It then struck you with the harsh realization that these men weren’t sleeping, they were unconscious, you thought as you caught sight of a dribble of blood here and there.

“Wait,” you said, stopping in your tracks as your eyebrows furrowed. Chuuya stopped as well, looking at you in annoyance and he tugged at your arm, “I said wait.”

You examined him for a moment before voicing your thought out loud, “Are you…saving me?” you asked.

He snorted loudly, rolling his cerulean blue hues as he said, “Wow, princess you sure are a genius,” you scowled at this before harshly pulling your arm away from his grasp and crossing your arms over your chest. “Yes, Mori-san requested that we take you back and join the Port Mafia,” At this your eyes widened, and you gaped openly at him. The… Port Mafia?

“Hell fucking no am I joining the fucking mafia you short, ginger cussing asshole!” you proclaimed loudly as you took a step back, placing your hands on your hips.

2 months later, you were now under the ranks of the mafia. It was quite logical to join them, after all, you had absolutely no place to go.

Although the effects of depression never failed to take a hold of you, the thoughts of how worried your mom must be now that you had been missing for so long, you found yourself growing accustomed to your wings.

The healing bit was a perk too.

But over the two months you found yourself squabbling with Chuuya on a daily, the backbiting that occurred between you two was fierce, ever since you called him short.

“Are you done yet? Hurry the fuck up (Y/N) I don’t have all day!”

At Chuuya’s call you rolled your eyes as you searched around your room for your report, the one that the both of you had to report to Mori-sensei.

“I’m hurrying holy shit calm down!” you called back out to him through the door. You heard a bang on your door and didn’t doubt for a second that he must’ve kicked it again, hot-headed as he is.

You wondered just how much your poor door could take before it would cave into the splintering pieces of wood that barely managed to hold itself together.

Reaching under the covers of your bed, your hand grasped the file folder of your report and you pulled it out victoriously before making haste in sprinting across your room.

You pulled the door to your room open, meeting Chuuya’s eyes. What a pretty colour they were, even though you did hate the guy you could admit that he was…hot, for lack of a better term.

But you would never admit that out loud, so instead you thrust the folder into his arms, “Here.”

2 Months later

“Who the fuck did this?” Chuuya hissed at you though his actions didn’t carry the same malice as his words as he ran his thumb over the cut on your face.

“Fuck Chuuya I dunno, doesn’t matter though we gotta go,” you groaned at the pain in your body, slurring your words as the earth tilted down slightly. The slight sound of gunshots down the street sent your heart racing, the both of you had to scram before getting caught in the crossfire, otherwise, it’ll be too late.

You felt the brush of wind against your exposed shoulders as your wings stuttered for a moment before folding in back on themselves, too weak to have energy wasted on them folded out.

“C’mon,” he muttered and wrapped a hand around your shoulders and the other around your waist, hoisting you up.

You moaned in pain as you rested your head against his shoulder, already feeling the slow regenerating effect of your ability kicking in.

That day, you saw Chuuya look at you with something a bit different than the usually anger and hate…worry.

2 Months later- present

“No no no idiot, Baileys is the one you can eat with ice-cream and all that shit, Concha Toro is good for admiring its taste in just itself,”

You eyed Chuuya’s explanation of the two brands with faint interest from the couch, you laid your head down on the arm of his couch as you took in your explanation.

“So, which one are we drinking?” you asked. Ever since Chuuya had heard that the only wine you’ve had was from the grocery store, he freaked and demanded that he take upon the role to educate you on his hobby, which was, of course, drinking wine.

“Concha Toro,” he stated, walking over to you as he uncorked the bottle and filled the two glasses up. He handed you one and you gingerly got up as he sat next to you on the couch. You took a small sip of it before cringing, “It’s way too bitter,” you gagged and Chuuya rolled his eyes as he made for a reach for your glass

“No!” you stated in possessiveness as you brought the glass closer to your chest, “Mine,” he raised an eyebrow at your antics.

Soon, through the small, mindless chatter with Chuuya you found yourself finishing the glass and swiped Chuuya’s own, draining that as well.

“Oneeee more!” you begged holding out your glass. You felt fuzzy and light like you were drifting on a cloud.

“Hell no, you’re drunk already you lightweight,” he stated back in return and you pouted, swaying towards him on the couch, “Please?” you slurred.

He shook his head and just as you swayed a little too far, your body lurched forward and he caught you in his harms. You immediately wrapped your arms around him and giggled, “Okay, I think its time you go to bed,” he stated at your antics.

He hoisted the both of you up and you stumbled forward, “You know I died once?” you stated, referring to your accident with the bus that seemed a million years ago. “Uh huh,” he said obviously not believing you, “It’s true!”

He gently pulled you forward but it seems as if the alcohol was really hitting you as you could barely walk, “Fuck my life..” he muttered and you stared at him as he wrapped his arms under you, pulling you up so he could carry you bridal style.

He was so pretty, god, you might even want to kiss him if you didn’t hate him so much. Humming you asked, “Chuuya do you hate me?” he stopped in his tracks and looked at you. “What the hell? I may detest you, but I don’t hate you, princess,” he called out that nickname. Whenever he called you princess, it always infuriated you, but you always felt a rush of warmth in the pit of your belly.

Reaching your head up, you nuzzled his neck affectionately as you tenderly kissed the spot underneath his ear.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, and you tilted your head up as you took in the blush creeping up his pale cheeks, “Loving you,”

“Chuuya,” you said, “Let’s not hate each other anymore, ‘kay?” he looked at you and grunted in amusement.

“We can talk about this in the morning, now just go to bed dumbass,”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise,”

Maybe with the promise of a new life, you’d be okay again, hopefully enough that you could find your way back home.

But was losing everything newfound worth it?

You’ll just have to see.

#comission #bsd #bsd imagines #bsd chuuya #bsd imagine #bsd x reader #Chūya Nakahara #Nakahara Chuuya #Chuuya #chuuya imagine #chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagine #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungo stray dogs headcanons

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misstinfoilhat · 5 years

Text

The Boy in the Belfry Pt. 9, a Bungo Stray Dogs fic.

Õgai Mori, a former doctor and now the boss of the Port Mafia, was seated by his grand mahogany desk in his office. By his side, stood Elise, a young girl in a pretty red dress and the manifestation of his ability.

His eyes were focused on a faint stain on the polished wood after a coffee cup had been sat there without a coster on the unnecessarily expensive desk. It wasn't that it bothered him. If he could choose, it wouldn't be there, but right now, it was somewhere to concentrate his gaze while he thought through the events that had occurred the last few days.

Somehow, that incompetent old man had made his way into his office, two days ago. He was sure he had rid himself of that pest over ten years ago.

He had left him to bleed out on his own altar after a very unfortunate accident with his Glock the same day he had taken in his half-dead son. So clumsy of him.

Something inside his mind had snapped at the sight of the young body falling through the air. After he had decided that he wanted the boy, he already thought of him as his and the preacher had no right to damage anything of his.

Before leaving the HQ, he had every intention of paying the preacher for the boy. When the old man delivered damaged goods- the old man had to pay instead. That was how it worked when doing business with the Port Mafia.

And after all this time, the preacher had returned. The preacher had returned to kill him. He was going to kill Mori and take Dazai back.

Mori had obviously laughed in the old man's face and told him that the Port Mafia didn't have a fucking return policy (and even if they did, he was too late. The kid was an expired ware).

He had been playing with the thought of offering him Elise, just to taunt him. But, he knew from the preacher's obvious self-hatred and the damages that had been done to his son's body, that the old man didn't lean that way.

He felt sick just thinking about it.

With that, his thoughts drifted back to the first time he treated Dazai. It was that same day. If the kid didn't survive, he swore that he would go back there and kill the preacher one more time (which he now knew he should have done anyway).

Even though Mori had known that a fall from that hight was not enough to ensure fatality, there was no way to know for sure when Dazai was so young and had suffered much physical abuse prior to his suicide attempt.

The blood loss was not compatible with the fall. Also, the head trauma didn't fit the way he had landed. Mori was there to witness when Dazai hit the ground, and he had clearly landed with his feet first. That wouldn't cause his skull to fracture. And it certainly wouldn't leave burn marks all over his abdomen, back, and neck.

The broken legs, pelvis, spine and elbow- yes. Maybe the shoulder too.

But carvings of fucking bible verses into the skin was not common fucking injuries after failed suicide attempts- It was the cause of them.

When the prior boss had found out everything, he had ordered Mori to continue down the path that was started by the preacher.

He wanted the boy tortured to the point that pain was all he knew. Tortured to the point where pain and suffering were more familiar than love and comfort. To the point where the boy didn't know anything else.

The Boss wanted an unfeeling human weapon. So that's what Mori gave him.

Learning about the boy's ability to nullify all other abilities had been quite the bonus. Obviously, it was a bit annoying under his training when they had realized and their entire training plan had to be changed- but it proved to be very helpful never the less.

Also, it was his only mean of protection. They had taught him martial arts and self-defense, but his body was weak from malnourishment and frail from all the injuries he had sustained through his life.

So, they ran with it. If Dazai was going to be fragile, he had to learn to work with it, make it his strength- and he had.

And now, out of the blue- two days ago; that weak, stupid and useless preacher was standing in front of this very coffee-stained desk, demanding to get back Mori's single greatest creation- and, disappointment.

The man who had started it all.

'The man whos powers worked on Dazai', he had realized. With everything that had happened while trying to save Dazai's life, making sure he was even able to walk again and then starting the training and realizing that the boy had that ability- Mori had never even realized that Dazai had been the victim of his father's ability for all of those years.

That was why the preacher had gotten Mori's attention that day. The only reason Mori had not killed him right then and there. Obviously, Mori was not going to ask the preacher about it yet, that would make him think he had the upper hand.

He would see this through. After all, they did have a common interest.

Either, Dazai needed to be on their side, or, they needed him to be dead. ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chuuya looked at the full tray of food that had been pushed aside from Dazai's bed.

“Do you eat?”

Chuuya looked suspiciously at Dazai in the hospital bed. His body had always been frail, but sometimes it looked weaker than others. Thinner.

“You just can't help yourself, can you, carrot top?” Dazai spat back, more amused than annoyed.

Chuuya shot back a stare he hoped might prove lethal.

“I've seen chicken legs with more fat on them than you.”

Dazai reached his tongue out. He slumped down on the bed and pouted.

“The hospital food is... Squishy.” “Squishy?”

“Yeah.”

Chuuya didn't look completely satisfied with that explanation.

“Come on chibi, it's a perfectly good word,” Dazai said determinedly.

Chuuya rolled his eyes. “No, and please stop calling me that!”

“What, chibi? Come on, you're 22 years old. You have to realize that you're not still growing, chibi.”

Chuuya's cheeks were puffed and flustered with anger.

“See? Just like your cheeks are right now, chibi! Squishy!” Dazai sang happily, reaching out to deflate them with his index fingers, just as there was a knock on the door.

Both of them immediately looked to the door on high alert.

It slowly opened, revealing a man with long gray hair.

“President,” Dazai exclaimed innocently and retracted his hands.

Fukuzawa looked suspiciously at the redhead seated at the bedside and approached.

Chuuya was clearly uncomfortable but got up and wearily reached out a hand to greet the ADA president anyway.

“My name is chib... Fuck! My name is Chuuya! I'm fucking Nakahara Chuuya,” he exclaimed as his cheeks turned crimson red and he mumbled curses under his breath while sitting down in the chair in complete disgrace, hanging his head low and covering his face with a gloved hand.

Dazai's grin was wide and victorious.

“I know who you are, Nakahara Chuuya,” Fukuzawa said sternly, mostly to establish dominance, before shifting his attention back to Dazai.

“I'd like to speak to you, in private,” he added, glaring back at the Port Mafia executive.

Chuuya scoffed, trying to recover from the embarrassment, and folded his arms.

“Great, I have more important things to attend to, than to prevent stickman over here from going fully hangman on our asses anyway,” he shrugged, getting up and giving a short wave while walking to the door.

“See you soon, Strawberry Shortcake!” Dazai waved back.

Four of five fingers folded from Chuuya's wave right before he slammed the door shut.

“Redheads are always so feisty,” Dazai smirked at his superior. Fukuzawa shook his head in disapproval, before settling on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

Dazai sighed at the lack of response, “So, Ranpo and Kunikida have been tattling?” he asked instead, unconsciously scratching his bandaged neck. As soon as he realized that the notion did not go unnoticed by Fukuzawa, he lowered his hand.

“Yes, they have told me about your feverish ramblings,” he stated, “and I have to admit, that I am concerned about you, Dazai.”

Dazai's smile didn't budge. “Sunday school, you know.”

“And what about the mentions of the Port Mafia boss, Mori?”

Dazai frowned and raised his shoulders, “He is a handsome man. I was never that great of a Sunday school student.”

Fukuzawa slapped his face with his palm. “You are so full of bull-”

“Language, boss,” Dazai scolded, acting shocked. "I have sensitive Sunday School ears."

Fukuzawa had never been closer to share Kunikida's desperate annoyance with Dazai. He got back to his feet and took a few laps around the room while trying not to lose his usually so mild temper.

“Dazai...” ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Dazai wished people would stop saying his name in that tone. As if he had done something wrong. For once in his life, he knew what he was doing was right.

Sure, they would probably not see it that way, but if they'd known... Nothing good would come from that. Which was another thing he couldn't tell them, which they also would probably disagree with.

After Fukuzawa had left, he had finally been left alone for the first time in over a week.

He let the bed lower so he could lay straight, his back thanking him and his head being less grateful. He let the dizziness settle while breathing deeply, easing the nausea that came with it.

Chuuya already knew too much, but hopefully, Mori didn't know that. In which case, Chuuya was safe(not that he cared or anything). All though, the slug would probably do something stupid anyway...

For the first time in several weeks, he allowed himself to try and make sense of this whole situation.

Mori had told him years ago that his father was killed when he was retrieved from the church. That was obviously not true.

Why was his father back? Where had he been and why the hell (language, Dazai) would he try and find him? He hadn't been of any use for that bastard since the day he first met the Port Mafia, which had been made perfectly clear that same night, before his first... attempt of relief. Of peace, salvation and, just... to be left alone.

'What is happening to me?' Dazai thought while looking out the window to his right. 'Am I finally truly losing my mind?'

No. That had already happened years ago. There was no mind left to lose.

Dazai chuckled at the thought. 'Very well then, no mind left to lose means that there is not much else left to lose...'

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The next day, Kunikida got a call. He threw his phone violently on the floor after listening for about a minute. Scared, disbelieving and concerned eyes looked at the man, as he stomped out of the room, through the hallway and straight into Fukuzawa's office.

After a couple of minutes, Fukuzawa came out of the room, leaving Kunikida to calm down inside.

“I need everyone to be ready in10 minutes,” he declared. “Dazai is missing," a deep sigh followed as he muttered under his breath, "...again."

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #Dazai Osamu #dazai centric #Nakahara Chuuya #fukuzawa yukichi #mori ougai #port mafia #armed detective agency #doppo kunikida #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfic

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livesoffcoco · 6 years

Text

New Beginnings

Pairing: Effie/Yuu

Notes: Yes, I went with Effie instead of Isla. And YES! This is Odasaku’s OC parents because I love Odasaku far too much. Effie was an experimented ability, just like Chuuya; hers can go corrupt as well. Our little first meeting is below the cut. If ya’ll have any questions about either of them, just give me a shout.

Yuu knew something was wrong. His ability, Flawless, allowed him to see 5 to 6 seconds into the future. Yet one did not need prophetic abilities like his to see something was wrong. “Sir.” He said, walking over to his commander. Both were dressed in thick body armor; completely black but still mobile enough to get the job done. Assassins needed to be quick on their feet after all. With his ability, he had become one of the best in the business, even though he was just 18 years old.

His commander glanced over to Yuu, checking the loaded sniper rifle strapped to Yuu’s back. They shared a brief moment between the two of them, silent but so much more was communicated then if they had been speaking with one another. It seemed as though his commander was anxious about what they were tasked to do as well; both of them standing on the roof of the large, yet hidden, lab. Tucked near the edge of Yokohama, not many of the cities residents came out this far. The government could practically do whatever they wished if they wanted to. And that’s just what they did. Unchecked and unbothered, his commander’s contractor had heard of problems on the outskirts of the city near this exact building. So he and Yuu came out to check it out a few weeks back.

And they saw lab tech’s and scientist, quite clearly working on human subjects; which was entirely against the law. Though they were not stupid. Yuu and his commander knew these scientist were working for the government. So now here they were, ready to bust in and find out what the hell was going on. If they saved subjects in the process, then all the better. Though the lethal brunette prayed to whatever god was listening that they would not find anyone. Call him a bleeding heart but he liked it better when people were not getting hurt.

Either way, there was no way the two of them could put off entering the building any longer. They thankfully had the cover of night, and that very few, if any, workers were still there.

Making quick work of the back door, the two of them entered, hand guns at the ready. Professionals, they quickly and quietly went through the room without raising any alarm. The hallways were all empty as they went along, the lights off as well; with only the dim underlighting along the floor to guide their way. Though, both were equipped with night vision goggles. They needed as much visibility as possible.

It did not take long for Yuu and his commander to get to the main lab. Just like the hallways and the other rooms, it was silent. Not even the sound of machines came to life. That was…not good, to say the least. His commander moved to one side of the room while Yuu headed in the opposite direction.

There were large cylindrical containers lining the walls and Yuu knew it wasn’t animals they had been storing; now that they were all empty. He had the sudden realization that the scientist knew he and his commander had bene on their way. Of course they would have moved everyo-.

He felt his body slam onto the ground, a hard mass hitting his back as two claw like hands wrapped around his neck. Blood pooled underneath his head where it had smashed against the hard ground and blackness started to take over his vision.

Or at least that’s what would have happened if he hadn’t moved out of the way with a quick jump. His commander was eerily silent and Yuu could only suspect the worst when he came face to face with a smaller body. Long and tangled red hair puffed up around the person’s head like a wild crown. They were dressed in white cloth pants and a white cloth shirt, similar to what a hospital would provide someone.

Yet no…no. There was blood everywhere, dripping down the front of the… young woman’s shirt. It had to be a woman. Their face was thin and she had delicate features. His eyes lowered to her chest and yes, her breast were there, quite clearly braless. “Did you kill him?” Yuu asked, trying to be civil. He had not had a vision yet so that had to be good. But the young woman was breathing heavy, nearly panting as she stood there in front of him. In the darkness, he could barely make out her features, even with his night vision goggles.

He waited for a few more minutes, not wanting to scare her. She was obviously a “patient” of the scientist. But he would not use that word. No, Yuu saw her more as a victim. What they had been doing, it was torture; quite clearly. And they hurt this young woman who now nearly looked feral.

After a while, she shifted her weight, her hair falling away from her face. The girl couldn’t be older than 17; Yuu guessing about 16. She whispered something which he didn’t catch, but he did see how she grabbed at her abdomen; and then blood formed through her fingers. She was injured, gravely so.

Yuu and his commander both knew the dangers of the job. While…while there was a part of him that wanted to go search for his commander, he had to help her first. She was hurting and she was scared. This was what he always wanted to do, help others. It just so happened that his ability and his talent in killing made that a little hard to do it the “classic” way. So without a second thought, he rushed forwards, catching her just as she passed out. Her body was far more muscled than he first thought it would be.

But he could not think about that. He hefted her into his arms and rushed towards the exit where the two had entered. It was a good thing as well. He heard voices and ducked down just in time to see government officials and a scientist or two rushing back inside. Obviously the facility was not as shut down as they first thought. The cameras had to have been working or some other security system if they had been alerted.

The young woman groaned in his arms, causing Yuu to tuck her face into the crook of his neck. It was clearly uncomfortable, being held against all the bits and pieces of his body armor, but he could not do anything else. While he waited for it to clear, and finally got the opening he needed to run from the building, he heard her speak again. This time, he caught what she said.

~’~

His eyes were green like the forest she grew up in. That was the first thing Effie noticed when she opened her own eyes once again. The light was dim, obviously it being in the middle of the night. Yet somehow, some way, she was able to see light upon his face. Perhaps it was a car, perhaps it was the mood; their bodies were rushing away from that horrid lab.

“Thank you.” She whispered through the blood in her mouth; the poison of an ability finally calming down inside of her. Those scientist cursed her, but this young man… He glanced down again, the night goggles pushed up out of his face.

“You speak English?” He asked, speaking it fluently as well. She nodded as he started to move once again. All Effie wanted to do was cut the hair matted and trailing from his arms, but she had lost too much blood already. Her entire body was growing weak. And before she could do anything else, she felt her body collapse against his chest; being rocked back into unconsciousness in his arms as he rushed her away.

And Effie did not wake up again until much later. When she did, light was blinding her, causing her to turn away and come face to face with a crème colored wall. Quickly, she sat up, finding that she had been placed in a makeshift bed on the floor. It wasn’t a futon, the cushions were far too thick. Her eyes flickered around the room once again after finding that she was in clean lounging clothes and her stomach had been bandaged.

“You are awake.” She turned at the slightly familiar voice and had to tamper down the blush she felt rise in her face. Hell, she was a 16 year old girl that was attracted to men! And the man that had just walked in…my goodness. Her eyes trailed over his form as he walked towards her. It was a nice room; either in an equally nice house or equally nice apartment. He set the tray of soup, bread, and water next to her before sitting and crossing his legs. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get anything more substantial. I didn’t want to leave you for multiple reasons. This was all I could get on short notice.”

“It’s more than enough. They did not feed us even this well back in the lab.” Effie whispered, throat raw. It was always like that when her ability went haywire.

They sat in silence, Effie grabbing the water before he spoke. “My name is Yuu.”

“Effie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Effie. Do you know how old you are?�� One question at a time it seemed. Effie thanked him for it in her mind.

“16. I…I’m not from Japan, but my dad is Japanese.” She replied. It was more information than he probably needed, but she shared it anyways. Yuu nodded and picked up the bowl of soup. He traded the water with her and place the cup back on the ground as she started to drink the broth.

“That’s good. Do you have any way to contact your parents? Do you know what happened, why you ended up in that lab?”

Effie hated that she could already tell she was going to cry. She hated that she was going to cry in front of this handsome man; her savior. But the tears came anyways and the young man was thankfully unjudging. “No. They were killed by the people that took me, those scientist. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.” Effie sobbed as she put the bowl of soup down. And without even blinking, or flinching away, she allowed herself to be folded into Yuu’s strong arms. He shushed her, brushing her unruly red hair out of her face.

And it was so nice to be held with no intention behind it other than seeing that she felt better. He was gentle, whispering ‘it’s ok’s’ and ‘it’s alright’s’ into her hair. “Don’t worry about that Effie. I’m sorry about your parents. I won’t kick you out though. I would never do that.” He pulled back some, hand still on the middle of her back and the other was respectfully sitting beside him. He stared at her, their eyes locked and Effie felt such a burst of thankfulness that she just threw her arms back around him and squeezed tight; the hug fully expressing what she needed it to.

“Thank you Yuu!” Effie squeezed hard enough to the point Yuu laughed, choking some.

And Yuu was stronger than he looked as well. Because of all the experiments done on her, Effie could easily lift 500 pounds without sweating. For him to be able to pull her grasp away, that was impressive.

“I told you Effie, I won’t just kick you out. We can figure all of this out together.” Yuu paused before cupping the side of her face. While she did blush, it was nice that there was nothing sexual behind it; just comfortable intimacy between the two of them, so natural. “I promise you Effie, I’ll keep you safe.”

#bungou stray dogs #writing #oda sakunosuke #his back story at least #his parents #my writing

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fraink5-writes · 6 years

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Human Qualification- Chapter 25

June ???

In this chapter, we celebrate Dazai’s birthday and...

Thank you for reading up until now!! Only one more chapter!

Huge thanks to @missmizpah @gracieuxetoile and @deathly-oreos for reading it over!!

Summary: To slowly lose all your functions until you are nothing but a trapped mind in a deteriorated shell, that’s what it means to be ‘No Longer Human.’

This chapter can also be found on ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Death was waiting. It sat in each container of oxygen, prepared to fill Dazai’s lungs when they were empty. It loitered by each IV and feeding tube, hoping for them to run dry. It spread like a rash throughout his body, masked only by an intoxicating dosage of morphine. The drug was a cloud which lifted Dazai from his failing body, leaving behind the creaking pain of his bones and the dark thoughts which had for so long haunted his waking moments. It rocked and cradled him, comforting and ushering him into a dream, as he lay in his sateen sheets. It whispers to him, validating his beliefs: a world without pain was close; it was okay to stop breathing; it was easy, painless.

But then it would drop him, and he would fall onto the prickling agony of being alive. He was trapped on his bed of flames, which seared pain into limbs and suffocated his lungs. Alarms blared throughout his body, drowning out his thoughts, but he couldn’t do anything. So he waited for a nurse to come by and douse his suffering with liquid bliss.

Dazai was floating through a dream, in which the walls, the ceiling, the floor, even his bed had all blurred into an abstract white mass, and the incessantly beeping was a song, when it was interrupted by a rough voice. “Oi, Dazai, are you awake?”

Yes, he thought he was awake, even if it took a minute for his eyes to refocus. The voice belonged undeniably to Chuuya, who had sat in a chair nearby. When he visited Dazai, he no longer slouched; instead, he looked full of energy, if not anxiety. He was almost the same as before albeit he was a bit thinner, and his hair was cut a bit straighter. His clothes—belt, gloves, choker, hat and all—and tone had returned to their abrasive expressions, and the glow of the sun had risen again in the blue expanse of his eyes.

Chuuya sighed audibly. “Well, anyway, I came to visit and to say ‘happy birthday.’”

It was Dazai’s birthday? Days had passed unpredictably—some whizzed by, others dredged—without beginning nor end. Sometimes when Dazai was awake, Chuuya was there, sometimes Odasaku, sometimes Ango, but there was never an indicator of the date. Dazai hadn’t expected to be around for his birthday. A smile tugged futilely at his lips, but they did not move.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I’d be celebrating your birthday like this. Last year, I didn’t think I’d want to fucking celebrate your birthday at all.” Chuuya chuckled under his breath. “But here I am.” He reached behind his back, a veneer of red embarrassment on his cheeks. “I brought you a gift…”

A gift? What kind of gift could Dazai accept now, like this?

Chuuya pulled out a white binder from behind him. The label read “Dazai’s photos.”

“I printed your photos and made an album of them. I thought maybe you’d want to see them.”

He wanted to see them. Maybe it would comfort him to remember his memories as he lay waiting for death’s inevitable arrival. But he didn’t want to see them. It would be less painful to die without being reminded of all the things he’d leave behind. Was this sentimentality? A double-edged sword, two doomed choices. But he was relieved of the burden of choosing; it was up to Chuuya’s discretion.

“I don’t have any photos before last October, but you can’t complain; it’s your fault, unsentimental bastard.” Without another complaint, Chuuya opened up the book and began his tale of memories.

In the beginning, the photos were truly Dazai’s, taken by him when he could still use his hands. Most of the photos were of irrelevant things: the full moon which returned every month with the same face, a pot of fondue still on the menu of a certain restaurant. Maybe Dazai didn’t understand sentimentality back then either, yet they squeezed his weak heart. How did such mundane things—even cheap 2D replicas—stir Dazai’s emotions with the same ephemeral sorrow as falling cherry blossoms? There were also photos of Chuuya: Chuuya with his lopsided haircut, with his favorite choker, gloves, and hat, Chuuya in a khaki shirt and pants, Chuuya in a kimono the color of maple leaves. The Chuuya in the pictures was still radiant, glowing under the moonlight. His eyes captured the light of the stars which didn’t shine, and his lips were soft and still unkissed. Dazai wished that he kissed them then or that he could do it now, as Chuuya sat so close. But it was too late.

Soon enough the collection shifted obviously to Chuuya’s photos, marked by an increase in quality (from Dazai’s new camera) and an increase in photos of Dazai. In the photos, Dazai still looked like himself; he still had the same hair, same clothes, same bandages. Uncharacteristically, he wore an unaffected smile on his face. As Dazai lay in his deathbed, that grin looked foreign, a passing visitor which left without a trace. If that smile was genuine at the time, it was only painful now.

Eventually the photos became less and less along with Dazai’s body mass, hair, and mobility. They fell away until Dazai was but a skeleton with skin. The last photo (from around two months ago) could only be described as a picture of death. Sitting in his wheelchair, Dazai was a ghost, beyond the limits of his life. His smile was hollow. Around him, the cherry trees were poisoned by his aura of death, having mournfully shed all their petals. They too were weak, exposed, dying.

Even Chuuya (not in the photo) had been tainted. He had lost his color of his complexion, of his clothes, and of his personality. It was all dull like a zombie as he plodded through their routine half-dead and without thought.

But it was almost over. The scenery, the sterile hospital room, still lacked color, but it was speckled with beeping machinery and frantic medical workers. Chuuya had made a full recovery, and by the time he finished his narration, his face was its usual shade of red--not of anger or embarrassment, but of sadness. Even his eyes had swollen scarlet, tears gathering at the brim. But they didn’t fall.

Chuuya rapidly turned away with a gulp, trying to hold down his emotions. “So, that’s it. I hope you liked it.”

Dazai did like it although he didn’t understand why. The collection had only added to his pain: a tight ache in his chest and inflammation in his cheeks. But he liked it. Somehow the pain was also warm, comforting.

Dazai felt fulfilled for the first time, yet he still yearned for more. This time it wasn’t death; it was more greedy than that. He craved what he had known only so briefly: warmth, happiness, love, and he craved time. The white confines of the hospital could give him none of that; it only promised a cold, sterile death.

Dazai could say nothing, neither his satisfaction nor his objections. He could only wait for the end.

Footsteps plodded into the room. They were different than the nurses’ brisk movements. Although they were accompanied by silence, Dazai had no trouble figuring them out. They must have been Chuuya’s. He sat quietly for an uncertain amount of time. Dazai had no idea what was on his mind, but the silence was comforting. Dazai wasn’t prepared to confront whatever dreadful things haunted Chuuya—he wasn’t prepared even for his own fate.

After some time of nothingness, Chuuya squeezed Dazai’s hand with unnecessary force before a nurse scurried in, shutting the door behind them.

“Nakahara-san…” The nurse’s voice trailed off.

“I know.” Chuuya spoke in a clipped manner.

“I’m sorry… Dazai-san is probably not conscious anymore. At this point… We did all that we could. I’m sorry.”

No response.

It’s okay. I’m ready.

“I understand. But please give me a minute.”

“Of course.” With that, the nurse stepped out of the room.

Suffocating silence filled the closed room. Even without words, Dazai could feel Chuuya’s sorrow through his grip on his hand, shifting back and forth between tight and loose holds. Either way, for Dazai, it was warm and comfortable.

It’s okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve always wanted to die, anyway.

If there were other words he wanted to say, other thoughts he had, they were drowned out by such consoling thoughts, thoughts that would never reach Chuuya anyway.

“Dazai…” Cold teardrops fell onto the warmth of their hands’ embrace.

Dazai wanted to reach out to Chuuya, to wipe his tears and stroke his cheek, to hold him and whisper gentle assurances—but he couldn’t.

“Dazai, I’m sorry.”

Ah, there they were again, such hopeless words...

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#Bungou Stray Dogs #Soukoku #Human Qualification #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya

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izanyas · 7 years

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Build Upon The Ruins (3)

You know what. I lied about pacing myself here’s the new chapter of the Pacific Rim Soukoku fic.

Rating: M Words: 7,200 Warnings: two separate descriptions of death—one child death, and one murder by strangulation.

[Read from Chapter 1]

Build Upon The Ruins Chapter 3

"Your wrist is fine," Yosano said, taking off her glasses. "You can go back to punching things full force."

Akutagawa only gave her a curt nod in answer. It wasn't more than she expected out of him, and she didn't take it as offense. Akutagawa was always spectacularly bad at letting anyone, even medics, take care of him.

The girl Dazai had hired as a cat sitter, of all things, stood in the opposite corner of the ward. Rashoumon was laying in her arms docilely. Akutagawa exchanged a few whispers with her as they both left—the girl nodded at Yosano before walking out of the door. Her name was Izumi Kyouka, if she remembered correctly. One of the pilot candidates.

Yosano sighed loudly once she was alone. Two days here, and she already felt exhausted, her back aching with it, her head thrumming. She eyed the locked drawer of her desk for a long second, thinking of the cigarettes she kept there. There were only about a dozen left, but she really felt like one. She had about twenty minutes before Double Black's first test drift.

She didn't smoke, but she pocketed the pack before leaving the wing.

The dock was still abuzz with activity from the move. The last five jaegers humanity possessed were all assembled now, all gleaming in the light except Tiger Claw—it still bore traces of its last fight only three days ago, and most of its body was darkened by soot. She walked quickly from the hospital to the labs, waving at Edogawa when she crossed paths with him but not stopping to talk. They had already had their celebratory reunion drinks. He was probably on his way to the comm room anyway.

Kouyou would already be there, she thought. Much as she enjoyed her presence, she was in no hurry to have to watch the test unfold.

She came to a sudden stop the moment she stepped into the labs and took in the sight that welcomed her.

She closed her eyes. Inhaled as deeply as she could.

"What are you doing," she said flatly.

Kajii made a sound closer to a squeak than anyone human should ever utter, jumping around to look at her.

"Nothing," he replied breathlessly.

Yosano glanced pointedly at the giant tube full of viscous something he was trying to hide behind his frail body.

"I'm conducting an experiment," he admitted.

"What is it?"

"None of your business."

Yosano stepped closer, and when he tried to stop her physically, she glared at him the same way she used to glare at Dazai.

Kajii whimpered and lowered his arms.

The thing in the tall glass tube was a lot more recognizable from up close. "Is that a kaiju brain?" she asked, disbelieving.

Kajii seemed to struggle for a moment between his intent to be secretive and his irredeemable need to gloat. "It's a kaiju's secondary brain," he said, voice halway between resentful and proud. "The main one wouldn't fit in this room at all."

"What the hell are you doing with a kaiju brain at all? Hang on." She peered closer at the glass. "Is it live?"

One of the brain's tentacles moved to latch itself onto the glass with a disgusting sucking noise.

"Please tell me you're just planning on vivisecting it," she said. Her head was throbbing harder than before.

"I would never cut open such a beauty," Kajii replied, offended.

"Then why the hell are you carrying a live kaiju brain around? Are you going to keep it around as a pet?"

It said a lot about Kajii as a person that he just looked considering, instead of appalled.

"It's not a pet," he answered with a shake of his head. "I'm trying to extract information from it."

"Ah," Yosano said. "Of course. You should've just said if you wanted to talk to one, Kajii. I'm sure I can convince Nakajima to bring you along the next time he's deployed."

"Please don't," Kajii whispered with obvious panic.

Joke aside, she really wanted to know. She was no stranger to kaiju parts resting in all corners of Kajii's lab, but she had never seen him use brain parts for anything other than dissection. Certainly not an entire secondary brain, live and squirming. Kajii himself was red in the face in a way that suggested deceit rather than just embarrassment.

"Tell me what you're planning," Yosano ordered.

She technically didn't hold any authority over him, but Kajii was more aware than most of how close she was to their boss, exactly, so he paled. "I-I can't."

"Come on." Her voice turned sweeter as she approached him, making his face flush and glisten in the glaring yellow light. "I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as what I'm currently imagining."

Fortunately, Kajii always took every bait.

"It is extremely bad," he protested. "You could never have come up with something that cool."

"Oh?"

"No one's ever tried it before." His unease was shifting, now, turning into the kind of excitement that always loosened his tongue, and Yosano watched it happen with satisfaction. "Which is gigantically stupid, considering we've had the technology available for years."

"Please do tell," Yosano purred.

Kajii looked at her with suspicion for a second longer before relenting. "Okay," he said. "Okay, but don't you go and tell Boss Ozaki about it, all right?"

"I won't," Yosano nodded, planning to do just that.

If anything it would make Kouyou laugh. She hadn't laughed in a while.

Kajii bit his lip, glancing between her and the kaiju brain—whose three remaining tentacles were now suctioning their way up the glass—and then he took in a quick breath and asked, "You know about the certainty of double and triple events in the future, right?"

"Of course." She frowned. "You said the breach would have to stabilize to allow them through. It's why we're attacking in the first place."

"Yes. Yes, I did, that's true." He cleared his throat. "None of this plan would be possible without me."

"We're all indebted to you."

"You are!"

She risked a glance toward her wristwatch as he walked toward his desk. Ten minutes until she had to be in the comm room.

Her eyes snapped back to Kajii when loud metallic noises started ringing through the room; he was taking something vaguely familiar out of his largest cabinet, which appeared to only be half full of repulsive kaiju bits. When he set it on top of his desk, she recognized it. It was an early drift helmet. One of the models once used for testing people worldwide.

"Kajii," she said, understanding freezing into her.

"Let me explain before you try to kill me," he replied quickly.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"It's perfectly reasonable!" He pointed to the brain, his voice high with excitement and arrogance. "My numbers are right, but we need more than just that to be able to make the plan work—we need to know more about our enemy."

"I'm going to kill you," she seethed.

"Yosano," he pleaded. "Listen. The kaiju aren't the real enemy. They're all clones of each other, you know that."

It made her hesitate. "I do know that."

"Yes," he continued. "They're engineered. We need to know who engineered them before we drop that bomb into the breach. We might never drop it at all if we don't know more."

She withstood his eager stare for a long second.

"And drifting with a kaiju is the best option you've got for that?" she asked.

"Yes," he exhaled, looking relieved. "It's the only option I have."

Her breathing hitched, protest rising to her lips, but she didn't have time. "Fine," she said. "Fine. But not now. And certainly not on your own like you were planning to, you absolute madman. Do you have any idea what a drift can do to you with no one to monitor it?"

"Boss will never let me—"

She waved a hand, shutting him up. "I'll talk to her. I need to go now anyway, they're testing Double Black."

"Oh." He looked surprised. "Did they find new pilots?"

"Have you been living under a rock? Never mind, don't answer that." She sighed. "Dazai's going back."

He stared at her in confusion.

"But…" he started. "Chuuya-san can't move a jaeger. I mean, I bet he could if he tried, but then the pain would knock him right out."

Yosano's lips thinned, mind flashing briefly to number of times Nakahara had passed out from the pain in the months following his injuries. He knew his limits now, and he was serious about the medication she allowed him to take—though not as serious as he could be about the non-physical kind of therapy he should be undergoing.

She couldn't really blame him. None of them had the time or will to work through trauma. They wouldn't until the world stopped ending.

If it ever did.

"Dazai has a new copilot," she said lowly.

"You're joking." Kajii sounded more shocked by this idea than that of Nakahara trying to walk in a jaeger, cane and all. His mouth fell at the corners when he glimpsed her expression. "You're not joking," he amended, stunned. "Who?"

"Don't know him. Nakahara just told me he picked one yesterday."

"That's…"

There was no need for him to finish. She understood what he meant perfectly.

"The drift won't be as strong," he said after a moment of silence—it sounded almost defensive, and it made Yosano want to smile.

"Maybe not," she agreed. "But we never needed the drift to be as strong as it was with Dazai and Nakahara to be able to move a jaeger."

It was all that mattered in the grand scheme of things.

"Anyway," she said, looking at her watch again. "I have to go witness that disaster happen. Keep sharp, Kajii—we might need you if the hangar explodes. And do not drift with that thing until I'm here to give you the green light."

He only looked faintly guilty when he promised not to.

Yosano sneezed as she walked out of the lab. She often did. Something about the air there, maybe from the ever-presence of kaiju corpse, made fresher oxygen tickle at her nostrils every time she stepped away. She rubbed her nose and took the direction of the elevators. When she looked at Double Black's silhouette again, she saw that the cockpit was already open.

It was comforting, in a way. For so long the sight of Double Black going into the fray meant victory.

The comm room was warm with human heat and voices, almost feverishly so. Edogawa was shooting orders in rapid-fire succession from his perch atop Nakahara's desk; the girl brought in from the US base, Alcott, was typing at her station almost too fast for the bare eye to see; Nakahara himself was standing next to Edogawa, interjecting lowly every now and then, back straight and eyes alert despite his obvious fatigue.

It would be impressive if not for how pointedly he didn't look in the direction of Dazai and his new copilot, all suited up by the door that would allow them into Double Black's head in a minute. The way Dazai refused to look right back was just as sad.

"Hey," Yosano said, brushing Kouyou's hand quickly once she stood close enough.

"Hello," Kouyou replied softly. "Sorry I missed you this morning."

"It's fine. You needed sleep."

Kouyou had slept like the dead right through Yosano's quickly-fixed breakfast and shower. It hadn't surprised her, considering how long she had spent tossing and turning, anxious about the day to come.

"There's something I need to talk to you about after this," Yosano whispered, eyes fixed onto the tall man suited like Dazai was. She couldn't see his face from here, but his hair was strikingly long. "I saw Kajii on my way—he wants to try something."

"How dangerous is it?"

"Only potentially lethal."

It made Kouyou laugh dryly. Naomi's brother shot her a questioning look as he walked past, but thankfully, he didn't linger. "After this," she agreed. Then she added: "I'm worried."

"About the test? Dazai knows what he's doing."

The entire point of this was that Dazai had extensive experience with piloting and wouldn't let the jaeger fry up or collapse the way so many first drives had done in the early years. They had lost a lot of money rebuilding after tests—more than they had rebuilding after fights, at one point.

But Kouyou didn't reply, face severe in the white light, so Yosano said: "Ah. The other elephant in the room, then."

They both looked at Nakahara.

At least he seemed to be done steeling himself, or whatever it was he was doing while pretending to look at Edogawa's work. His eyes were turned to the duo standing by the door.

Yosano couldn't tell if his face was miserable or just serious, because Nakahara was always too good at not showing weakness. No matter that no one but him thought him weak for it.

"All right," Nakahara said loudly, right as the clock shifted to two o'clock. The room's attention snapped to him immediately. "Let's get started, everyone."

The pilot suit was exactly as heavy once put on as it looked hanging in the dress rooms. Kunikida's had been fitted to his body measurements the night before, but he hadn't had the occasion to walk around in it before making his way into Double Black's cockpit. The hardest parts to manage were the large boots that would connect to the footholds and carry the legs of the jaeger, but the back and breast plates were unwielding in their own way. His chest knocked against them with every breath he took.

His and Dazai's footsteps were loud against the steel floor of the machine's head; for a second Kunikida stood still, gazing at the intricacy of panels and trapdoors and buttons littering every wall except for the wide screen. One of them he recognized as the nuclear core's manual overdrive.

"I'll take the right, if you don't mind," Dazai said. "Favorite spot."

Kunikida looked at him, startled. "That's fine," he replied. "Whatever works for you."

Dazai nodded and walked toward the station closest to the door.

He had been acting strangely since they met in the fitting room. Withdrawn. Nothing at all like the arrogant man who had dismissed Kunikida and all the others with mocking glances and biting words the day before.

Kunikida took his place at the left hemisphere, slotting the feet of the suit into the holds designed for it. A man who had introduced himself as Mark was busy harnessing him securely onto the station, asking him to move this way and that to make sure everything worked. He seemed cheerful.

It occurred to Kunikida then that Dazai probably had not stepped into Double Black for a long time. Maybe the forlorn look on his face was nostalgia, or surprise. Whatever it was, Dazai said nothing and didn't look at him. He simply let himself be attached to the body of the jaeger. He barely needed his own helper's cues to test the movements of the suit either—he was extending his arms and moving his legs and neck before she could open her mouth.

Mark and the woman left them a minute later. The sound of the cockpit closing shut and locking itself down was harsh into the metal-like silence.

Kunikida closed his eyes when the connecting gel coated his face under the visor of his helmet. It was unpleasant but nothing he wasn't used to. The wide screen in front of him lit up in the shape of Double Black's own visor, and through it they saw the large window of the comm room.

Nakahara bent over the front desk and picked up something from it—a mic. He looked very small in the distance.

"We're ready to begin," his voice came in Kunikida's ear. "Kunikida?"

"Ready," he replied.

"Dazai?"

"Go right ahead, Chuuya."

There was a second of silence. "Good," Nakahara said evenly. "Initiating neural handshake in thirty seconds."

Kunikida heard the countdown start in his left ear, faint, too measured to belong to an actual person.

At first he said nothing, just paced his breathing to the seconds that the high automated voice numbered for him. Then he heard Dazai shift in his station.

"Feeling all right, Kunikida-kun?" Dazai asked, non-committal.

Fifteen seconds now. "As well as possible," he replied, keeping his irritation in check.

"Still stuck on your first impression of me, then."

"You haven't exactly given me reason to change it."

"That's fair," Dazai muttered. "I do apologize for my attitude. Getting you angry was the fastest way to figure out if this could work, but I was a bit flippant."

A bit? Kunikida thought wryly.

Dazai spoke again before he could say it, though. "I'm sure you'll understand a little better after this."

He didn't sound happy about it at all. Not even in a mocking way.

Five seconds.

"For what it's worth," Dazai said with surprising softness, "I hope this works. I think I could've enjoyed being partnered with you, if things were different. You seem like a good man."

Kunikida's mind protested the praise as it always did, as it always would; he looked at Dazai to reply but found Dazai looking ahead through Double Black's visor—found, when he followed the direction of his eyes, that Nakahara was staring right back, holding the mic to his lips as if he meant to speak.

"Neural handshake initiated," said the automatic voice.

Kunikida felt the familiar pull of the drift tug at the core of him, behind his eyes and mouth and chest. The feeling was usual enough at first that he steeled himself for the empty resonance that ruled all simulation runs with ease, for feeling distanced from his own body so that he could drive another—an empty—one.

All familiarity stopped there.

On the other side of the drift was something just as solid and alive as he was. Kunikida felt his conscious expand to brush it, and understood, when foreign reluctance struck him through the chest, that this was Dazai.

Dazai's mind unfolded a second later through decision rather than acceptance, and then he was there, in Kunikida's head, Kunikida in his.

He held his breath. Felt Dazai do the same in turn.

Keep calm, he told himself—and there was amusement there, not-his, telling him, Good advice.

He forced himself to pay no mind to the memories and feelings he could feel rush through his head. Men and women and children and places he had never visited but witnessed with the familiarity of old friends—a tall, ill-shaven man the sight of whom made warmth gather inside him—a house full of orphans he knew by name without meeting any of them.

There were so many. A whole life jotted precariously in place alongside his own, getting mixed up and mistaken. Kunikida bit his lip to ground himself and force his mind back in the now, in his body, in the heavy metal extensions of it that he could now feel through the jaeger's own limbs.

He felt Dazai ground himself much the same, breaths deep and controlled. He could tell that he was being given the same courtesy; Dazai was seeing things from Kunikida's childhood and life that Kunikida had forgotten—he quirked his lips at one of them, of Kunikida at school teaching his rowdiest classroom. Dazai let it slip away untouched when it left.

"Stabilized," the voice said.

Kunikida was seeing through two sets of eyes when his eyelids lifted, and the sight that greeted them was that of a room full of people smiling. He followed the helpless pull of Dazai's stare as it slid to Nakahara with all the ease in the world.

His chest throbbed with longing at the sight of him. More images unfolded, much starker than the rest—Nakahara's back against the light of the hangar, his face against Dazai's shoulder as he slept during the flight to Yokohama, hair mussed from the occasional jolts of the plane and falling softly over his forehead—Chuuya smiling at him over a table and suffusing warmth into his skin even as he agreed to do the one thing in the world he never wanted to—

Chuuya's mind threaded into his until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"Kunikida-kun," Dazai said out loud.

Kunikida sucked in a loud breath as he snapped back into the present, every beat of his heart bruising his ribs.

"You all right in there?" said Chuuya. Said Nakahara.

"We're good," Dazai replied lightly—and Kunikida had no idea how he could breathe at all through the agony of fear and love that laced his bones at the sound of Nakahara's voice. "Just getting used to each other."

He had to breathe deeply for several seconds to settle back down. Even then the ache never left. It shone through the drift lowly, highlighting corners of Dazai's mind that felt raw to the touch.

These weren't his feelings to touch, though. Not his memories to browse. Kunikida focused on that thought until he felt physical again.

When he turned his head sideways, Dazai was smiling at him.

"I think we're good," Kunikida said, tearing away from the sight of him. He looked at Ozaki rather than Nakahara.

There was affection and regret there as well, but nothing like the sea of sheer emotion that her second-in-command elicited.

"All right. Ten seconds to stabilization, with some leftover mishaps. Not bad at all." Alcott leaned toward Nakahara to whisper in his ear, and he nodded. "Try moving our friend here a bit."

"Roger that," Dazai said.

It was nostalgia he felt when they both raised their arms, the command immediate through both their brains at once. Double Black raised its own in perfect tandem, its right fist coming to punch into the flat of its left hand loudly.

Kunikida heard the cheers of the comm room over the line, felt Dazai's fondness and amusement and familiarity with the situation course through him bodily. He had heard all of this before countless times. Kunikida's mind washed over with feelings of having fought and won, with memories of kaiju whose wide bodies he had only ever seen shrunk TV-sized but whom he could now recall tearing apart limb by limb.

"Very nice," Nakahara said. His was grinning, but in a way Kunikida knew—Dazai knew—wasn't genuine. "I think we've got everything we needed from you two. Just stay put for a while, Tanizaki's gonna run some tests now."

"Not going anywhere," Dazai replied.

It felt like a promise rather than a joke.

The comm line turned off.

They brought down Double Black's arms slowly. Kunikida stood still in his station, eyes roaming over the cockpit, letting Dazai's deep knowledge of it instill inside of him. He knew what every part of it did now. How it all worked.

"You're handling this surprisingly well," Dazai said. "Nice thinking."

Kunikida breathed out steadily. "It's… different than I imagined."

"Not quite the fairytale, huh?"

There was nothing surprising coming out of Dazai's mouth; Kunikida could think with him as he spoke, after all, however little he understood of those glimpses by the time they ran off. It was as though he were speaking himself. Dazai's body felt like an extension of his own, the way the jaeger did.

"It gets quite uncomfortable sometimes," Dazai continued light-heartedly. It clashed somewhat with the deep longing Kunikida could feel hover around them both, the familiarity and differences from Dazai's previous drifts—Dazai's mind seemed to sizzle every time it relaxed into it and realized the one there wasn't who it wanted. "It's why I didn't want a teenager. No one can help their mind dipping into the gutter from time to time."

Inevitably, lewder images were brought up, from Dazai's past and Kunikida's own. Kunikida reflexively tried to hide them and failed, and only the easy acceptance Dazai let flow through to him allowed him to come out with nothing more than a red face.

That was indeed more than he wanted to know about anyone he wasn't dating.

"Don't worry," Dazai said, amused. "You won't remember all of it once the drift stops. There's only enough room for one life in one's own head."

The regret Dazai felt at that was vivid. Ch—Nakahara's face flickered behind Kunikida's eyelids, and with it the unbearable yearning from before. It was steeped in fear.

"You're…"

Dazai stared at him in silence. He almost looked bored, yet his mind was reeling from what he knew Kunikida wanted to ask. It was braced as if for blows.

"Nothing," Kunikida ended weakly. "Forget it."

Dazai looked away.

The flux of thoughts and memories never stopped, not really. Not even without speech to anchor it. Kunikida felt Dazai drag the memories of his school again and watch them unfold passively, his curiosity genuine but distanced.

"A math teacher," he commented. "I forget not all of us are criminals."

Kunikida's question got its answer before he could ask it—stills of years long gone, the knowledge of having run from the law and then straight into its grasp. These memories were associated with no regrets whatsoever.

He felt Dazai smile longingly even as he kept browsing through Kunikida's mind, his touch delicate and respectful. He carefully didn't approach Kunikida's last memories of his mother, nor did he touch the gritty misery of his teenage years. Kunikida would be powerless to stop him if he tried; the fact that Dazai didn't take advantage of it in spite of what he had said the day before made something shift in his impression of him.

"See," Dazai said in answer, grinning. "We are getting along."

Dazai felt no rancor toward him. At least not personally. If anything what he thought of Kunikida now was a quiet sort of respect, inevitable in the face of the unnatural proximity they were caught in. Dazai thought Kunikida's thoughts and glimpsed Kunikida's memories, and he didn't deface any of them. He didn't try to reach and hurt. He let them pass through and go.

It was more consideration than Kunikida was worth.

Dazai's smile fell the moment Kouda Aya emerged through the tranquil flow of their thoughts, and with her the feeling of a chest caved in from grief and terror, the still-overwhelming guilt of having failed—

"Kunikida-kun!"

Dazai's voice was very far from him. Kunikida's breath caught, his broken ribs making agony spike through him even as he hunched forward to dig through the debris.

"I'm scared," Aya wheezed, face marred with dust and blood, "sensei—"

"Just stay with me."

"I can't—"

"Aya—just, just hold on, I'm taking you to the hospital, okay? Just breathe."

"Dazai, what's going on?"

"He's chasing the RABBIT! Kunikida-kun, listen to me." A jolt in his elbow, caused by a mind not his own even without touch—"They're just memories. You think you're back there, but you're not. It's only a memory."

The kaiju had torn through the ceiling of the school's underground hideout in one try; Kunikida remembered the screams of his students scurrying to run back into the corridor and then out, he remembered watching their heads pass by and feeling relief at each of them he found alive and moving, despite the awful pain ringing through his chest.

Then, Aya's voice, from under the rumble, her face under all the dirt and the blood running out of a cut in her head. Gushing out of her mouth. The steel pipe that had torn into her side.

"Kunikida-kun," Dazai said, grieved with the same loss Kunikida was feeling again, "It's over. There's nothing you can do to save her."

I can, he thought fleetingly. I can run.

His legs were long and heavy, his steps immense. He could get to someone in time.

"Chuuya, you need to turn everything off. He's going to jump."

"Shutting down the drift now could—"

"I know the risks! Just do it, I can't hold him down for long."

Kunikida was aware of the weight holding his legs to the ground and struggling to keep him still, to lower even the arm he cradled Aya's bleeding body with.

"Kunikida-kun," the voice said, breathless from the effort of keeping him grounded, "you're not there. It's already done. I know—I know it hurts, but there's nothing to be done. She's already dead."

"No," he said.

A breath, and then: "I'm sorry for this."

It wasn't Aya's washed-out face in his arms anymore, but the picture perfect memory of a man, pushed forth by the otherness in his own head. Grief turned to cold rage, and Kunikida's formerly gentle hands now folded around the stranger's neck, thumbs digging into his trachea with all the strength of his shoulders.

Kunikida tried to pull back instantly, confusion losing to panic as the man turned redder and redder. He could feel his entire body struggle under him, his palms twist under the pressure of his knees.

Stop, he thought, nausea and shock creeping up his throat, stop—

The man's lips were blue. He had stopped squirming. Dazai kept suffocating him anyway, long past the time he was dead, with blood pooling under his thumbs' nails from the man's skin tearing open. When he rose from his knees, an eternity later, he felt only satisfaction.

Kunikida heaved.

"We have to unplug you."

"Do it," Dazai said coldly.

His mind was slipping now. From cold fury to cold abandon and then cold fear. Dazai wasn't standing in a room of the orphanage with a corpse under his knees anymore; he was in the cockpit of Double Black, but he was strapped to the left, and to the right…

To the right the skull of the machine was open. Wind slapped at the busted plates of his suit, waves crashed onto the metal floor, and then the clawed foot of Fawk lifted at last, from where it had struck down and taken everything in its wake.

Under the folded metal that had once been part of Double Black's armor lay Chuuya. Body twisted around in a parody of the way he slept, helmet broken, wet hair shaking into the tempest wind. Some of it stuck gently to his face, drenched in his blood.

Dazai had never known fear before he had to see him like this through the agony of keeping the jaeger standing. He had never known what it was like to pray until he thought, No, and felt only emptiness call back instead of Chuuya's soul.

All the lights in the cockpit shut out, and Kunikida was snapped back into his own body.

He groaned through the headache that immediately struck him blind. Shrugging out of the helmet at all was a struggle, but the air he gasped in once it was off made up for it, made him aware of the wet residue of the gel over his skin as well as his own tears. He rubbed them off with the gloves of the suit and looked to his right, straining his neck until it ached.

Dazai was in the process of unhooking himself from the station with practiced hands, body twisted away from Kunikida. He ripped his feet out of their bonds and pushed the helmet off of his head. When he ran a shaking hand through his own hair, Kunikida felt his scalp tingle.

He was out of the door the second it opened, before Mark could even get close enough to Kunikida to help him get down.

Kunikida stayed in the shower for an hour.

He let the scorching water beat down his body until he was completely red. The steam felt like smoke in his lungs, uncomfortable but not enough to chase the taste of seasalt and the chill of the hurricane. Once he stepped out, numb with heat, he washed his hands seven times.

It still wasn't enough. Grimy dust stuck to his fingertips with everything he touched. Blood had crusted under the nails of his thumbs.

The dining room he had been shown to the day before was deserted when he arrived. Kunikida opened one of the large fridges he found in the kitchen and eyed the food stored inside that he knew he had free access to as a pilot; the thought ached, and he still felt nauseous anyway. He left without eating anything.

There was a smaller common room at the end of the corridor where his dorm was located. More of an opening in the wall than a true confined space. It had taken him some time to remember his way around, but he found it now, just as empty as he had hoped. The TV's screen was black and the remote nowhere in sight, so he just let himself fall into one of the couches.

A minute later, something heavy slammed onto the low wooden table.

He jumped, heart rising his in throat—and then there was someone sliding into the free space next to him, a soft sigh, heeled boots settling atop the table, a long black skirt falling over their hems.

"So," said the voice of the vaguely familiar woman who had just sat next to him. "We haven't been properly introduced yet. Kunikida, right?"

He looked at her properly. She was smiling, her glasses a little dirty, her makeup a little smudged.

"Yosano Akiko," she said. "I'm the head doctor around here. You come to me if you get so much as a weird-looking bruise, got it?"

It took him a while to realize that she had extended a hand forward and expected him to shake it. He did so slowly, mind still hazy from the drift and the shower. When he tried to pull it back, Yosano didn't let him.

She eyed the rubbed-raw skin of his knuckles pensively. "This happen often?" she asked.

His lips parted with some difficulty. "It's nothing."

"Mmh. You're bleeding a bit."

Her foot hooked into the handle of her bag to bring it closer. She rummaged through it for a second before taking out an opaque bottle of what he thought might be disinfectant. The familiar sting against his fingers confirmed it a moment later.

"What do you carry in that?" he asked, nodding toward the bag. Something metallic kept clinging every time it moved.

"The usual. A couple scalpels, a couple bonesaws." She smiled at him sharply. "Just as a reminder that I never want to use them on you."

There was a pause.

"You're joking," he realized.

It made her laugh, brief and loud in the otherwise quiet room. "Yes, I'm joking, Kunikida." She threw him a lopsided grin. "You're a bit of a straightforward guy, aren't you? Dazai and Nakahara always backtalk, I forget what it's like to be around normal people."

She released his hand at last, throwing the cotton into a trash can a few feet away from them. Somehow, Kunikida's fingers felt less soiled after that.

Yosano leaned into the couch with a sigh. She didn't look like she was in a hurry to move anywhere. Her hand dug into a pocket of her skirt that he hadn't noticed was there, and she took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

"I didn't know people still had cigarettes," he said, surprised.

She hummed, sticking one between her lips. Her fingers dragged a matchbox out of the pocket next, and she cracked one against the rough side of it habitually. The flame shivered against the end of the cigarette with a small papery noise. She shook it off with a flick of her wrist.

"I keep them for special occasions," she replied. "Whenever something good happens."

Kunikida thought of the people working on powering Double Black back up while he sat here uselessly and said, "I don't think anything worth celebrating happened."

Yosano smiled softly around her next exhale. "Seeing Double Black move is always worth celebrating, Kunikida. I don't think you realize just how much hope is associated with that big pile of junk. With you for being able to pilot it."

Kunikida had nothing to say to that.

Yosano smoked slowly, letting the silence spread between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. The smell of tobacco was rare enough to be comforting, familiar despite the inevitable burn of it down his throat when he inhaled it. It was a memory of better days. Kunikida's back fitted itself deeper into the curve of the couch, and his hands relaxed in his lap.

"Wanna talk about it?" Yosano asked quietly.

"About what?" he replied.

"The test earlier."

There was nothing to talk about, really. Kunikida felt drowsy with the aftermath of the flashback; his stomach ached at the reminder but he knew he could sleep it off.

Strangling a man to death, watching Nakahara bleed out—those would be harder to overcome.

"I didn't expect it to be so…" he paused, looking for the right word. "So literal."

Dazai had been right; most of the flashes he had glimpsed of the other's life were gone from his mind the way dreams dissolved. All except for the ones he had lingered on. But he could still remember the feeling of it in detail: being in his own head, and then not, and then somewhere in the middle with Dazai around him.

"You lot often say that about drifting," Yosano replied. "I've sat through countless attempted recollections of it—between those who can't shut their mouths about how it feels and those who'd rather die than try and describe it." Her mouth softened. "Dazai's part of the latter."

That didn't surprise him at all.

"Well. The important thing is that it worked." She flicked the filter of her cigarette, making ashes fall onto the concrete floor. "And from what I saw, it worked well, until you slipped."

"Until I slipped," he repeated. His voice was heavy with guilt.

She eyed him kindly. "Don't be too hard on yourself," she said. "You're not the first. And Dazai got you out of it before you could hurt anyone."

"I think—" He stopped. He wasn't sure if he should say it, but Yosano was waiting expectantly. There was no judgment on her face when he glanced at her. "I think he was the one slipping toward the end."

Yosano brought the cigarette to her lips again. The ember's glow shone against her painted fingernails, and when she exhaled, it was without much air. Smoke hovered before her face gently. "Treated you to a peak of the big incident, did he," she murmured.

Thinking of anything aside from the drift-bright memory of Aya dying in his arms had been impossible since the moment Kunikida had felt his mind come back to him. Somehow, though, the equally bright memory of Nakahara lying still and silent under torn sheets of metal came to him easily. His chest shivered from remembered terror.

"What's," he started. His face flushed, but he made himself say it. "Um. What sort of relationship do they have? Dazai and Nakahara."

Yosano snorted loudly—Kunikida felt his face burn. "That's the million dollar question," she said, grinning. "There were several bets running at the time—I'm pretty sure they knew about it too. Competitive idiots. No one did figure out if they were together before Nakahara got hurt." Her tone turned whimsical. "But they were something all right."

They still were. He thought he would've known from seeing the way they moved around each other, even without having felt Dazai's longing grip him by the heart. Everything Dazai did had Nakahara in mind; everywhere Nakahara looked kept Dazai in sight.

Yosano rubbed the filter of her cigarette between her fingers until the remaining ashes fell out, then slipped the stub into the plastic wrapper of the cotton she had used on him earlier. "We don't really know the long-term psychological consequences of drifting with someone," she said softly, looking at the unlit TV ahead. "Pilots die young. Those who aren't dead are still fighting. It's not like there's therapy for that. Humans figured out a way to make people mind meld by sheer luck, and promptly decided to shove those who could in giant robots and make them fight to the death." She smiled unhappily.

Kunikida could remember such speculations in his youth, when jaegers and pilots were no more to him than some faraway spectacle he never thought he'd be a part of. When TV stations held long debates on jaeger technology and how ethical it was.

No one had time for ethics now.

"It's a funny thing, the drift," Yosano continued. "You don't need to do it yourself to realize it. Do you know why they call it a neural handshake?"

"It's like linking hands to make yourself stronger," he replied. "Two people are better than one. Strength in unity and all."

"Yes." Yosano crane back her head to stare at the ceiling. "I like to think it's also because the drift is a greeting."

"What do you mean?"

She was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"We all know not everyone can drift," she started. "In fact most people can't. It could be genetic, it could be luck, there's plenty of theories. But don't you think it's weird, that not everyone who can drift can drift together?"

Kunikida frowned at her, not knowing how to answer. He had never really thought of it. From the moment he had decided to use the rest of his worthless life to try and save people, he had focused on nothing else. His instructors had told him that compatibility varied, and he had accepted it as law.

"For some people it makes sense," Yosano continued, taking his silence for the admission it was. "Long time spouses. Childhood friends. Siblings, twins especially. It makes sense that people with an already deep understanding of each other might be able to link minds." Her mouth twitched. "And yet we tried to put the Akutagawa siblings in a jaeger together and ended up destroying the first mark-five prototype. They can drift, just not with each other—weird, right? It's not like they aren't close." She let out another sigh before turning to look at him again. "And then sometimes you put strangers in a machine that links their heads together, and it works so well that the strangers don't want to come out of it."

"Is that what happened?" Kunikida asked. "With Dazai and Nakahara?"

Yosano's face softened into nostalgia. "Yeah," she replied. "They barely knew each other. Hated each other, actually. But then we strapped them in place and more or less forced them to drift,"—her expression darkened at the memory—"and it was like they were made for it. The numbers were off the charts.

"It's why I call it a greeting," she went on, looking years back into a past that Kunikida had been shortly privy to, one he had no right to but felt the need to know. "Sometimes it's not about being stronger or reducing the jaeger's load on the brain. Sometimes it's just watching two people meet for the first time in a way most people can only guess at. You could call it luck, you could call it fate…" She blinked slowly, lips soft on her smile, as if the memory alone was enough to bring her joy. "Whatever it is, these two understood it perfectly."

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#bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #fic: build upon the ruins

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