Archive of Our Own

Akutagawa was staring at Chuuya, with an expression that the redhead couldn't quite name, but it had to do with pinched eyebrows and a sour twist to his mouth.

"Hmm?" the eighteen year old mafioso asked, stretching as he got out of the car that had been transporting them home from the latest job.

"You're bleeding," the sixteen year old said flatly, his eyes trained on Chuuya's side.

Chuuya twisted to see what he was talking about, noticing the bloody patch on his jacket that had soaked through. "Ah, goddammit," he grunted, patting it with his hand, as though that would do anything. He couldn't feel anything from the wound, but that wasn't uncommon in the past year. "I really liked this jacket." He turned back to Akutagawa and the aghast look he was giving him. Chuuya smiled brightly. "Lesson of the night, Aku! Don't bring clothes that you like on a job."

"I-Chuuya, will you be alright?" Akutagawa looked stricken at how Chuuya was reacting. "When… when did you get hit?" The younger man looked like he was going every detail of the night to figure out when this could have happened.

Chuuya went over to the taller boy, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Don't worry about, I got a high pain tolerance," he assured him. It had been his go-to excuse recently. Usually people didn’t question it. "I'll be fine. Go home. And don't forget your medicine is ready at the pharmacy. If you don't pick it up tomorrow, I'll tell Gin."

Concern melted into alarm at the threat of his sister. He bobbed his head in fast agreement. Chuuya patted his shoulder and sent him on his way. He was glad he could still threaten the man with his younger sister.

He made his way into his penthouse before sighing deeply. He felt like throwing himself on his couch and forgetting everything, but he knew he couldn't. He needed to clean the blood off his skin and then make a phone call.

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting cross legged on his floor, shirtless, surrounded by a first aid kit. He couldn't tell from his angle what the shape of the wound was, but he hissed as he placed disinfectant on it, cleaning the sluggishly moving blood. His phone was balanced on the coffee table near his head, ringing currently.

"Answer the fuckin' phone, mackerel," Chuuya growled, sending a glare at it, even though he knew the other couldn't hear him.

It had almost rung to voicemail when, "Ahhh, Chuuya, I've had a bad day, and now I gotta talk to you?"

"Knife or bullet, dipshit?"

"Hmm…. I think it was the floaty one." There were some strange sound effects, something like pewpewfloatygo! if Chuuya was paying full attention.

Chuuya's face softened. "They got you on the good drugs?" That was not fondness in his voice.

"Mmmm," Dazai hummed, not quite answering, but after the past year of dealing with this, Chuuya knew that it was probably a morphine drip.

"Bullet then?" he prompted.

A long beat. "Hmm, think so. Where's Chuuya?"

"Bleeding out on my living room floor thanks to someone getting shot," Chuuya responded. The blood was actually coagulating at the moment, but Dazai probably wouldn't remember this anyway, so there was no part in being technical.

"That seems silly," the other said and began to hum a tune. Chuuya hung up, rolling his eyes.

"Chuuya? Chuuya isn't allowed to die!" Hands were placed frantically into his side, long, dexterous fingers trying to cover-

Chuuya shook his head, getting rid of the memory before it could fully form. It was a little more than a year ago. A bad decision in the heat of the moment on both their parts, but they'd have to live with it until the moment they didn't.

Chuuya grunted as he stood up. Bandages around the torso were always easier standing. He'd need a drink after this, but at least he knew the other was being taking care of. There was no need for him to go and find him. It wasn't like some of the times, where Dazai had-

He hissed as the bandage pressed too much into the wound. It was a precaution, really. This wasn't his injury - it would be gone in a few days, unlike Dazai who would probably have to deal with it for a couple of weeks.

"Serves you right," Chuuya grumbled as he poured a glass of wine and settled himself on his couch. He'd clean the first-aid kit up later. No reason to get to it right now.

The phone ringing in Chuuya's ear was annoying. He groaned, shifting his body, his breath catching as he moved his bad leg. He looked at it, noticing how twisted the bones were. Ah, no wonder the phone was ringing. There was probably something else wrong, too, but he didn’t have the focus to check.

"You're annoying," Chuuya grumbled without heat as his bloody thumb pressed the Answer button.

"Do you have backup?" came the terse voice of that stupid mackerel from the other end.

Chuuya tried to remember - he definitely had a concussion to go with his broken leg. Back… Backup.

"Hirotsu?" he murmured blearily, trying to remember any details, but usually he had Hirotsu as backup, by request.

"I'm calling him right now."

Chuuya nodded at the phone, and within ten minutes, Hirotsu was running towards him, already on the phone with an evacuation unit.

The next morning, Chuuya awoke in a hospital, his leg suspended above the bed, and his head pounding. Hirotsu was dozing uncomfortably in a chair nearby. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, grimacing at the blood smeared across the screen.

He had one text from a familiar number. I'm still alive so I guess you are, too.

He dropped the phone next to him and prepared for the long recovery period unless they could get someone with an Ability that could shorten it. There was one in the Mafia, but since there was only one, it sometimes took time for her to do her rounds to all of the injuries.

Chuuya could use a day off anyway. The jewel trade was doing well, it could wait for him to get on his feet again.

They didn’t speak of it – not even when it had happened, but it had become a habit for the phone call. When one was injured enough that the other knew, there would be a phone call, to check in, to see if the other needed assistance.

When Dazai left the Mafia, he had wondered if Chuuya would need him, had wondered if this was how they both would die.

He left anyway, leaving his phone on Chuuya's bed, without a note.

The abandoned phone was note enough.

In the four years that they were separated, Chuuya had been shot three times and there was no phone call to make sure he was okay, or that he would survive.

He lived with it. He had to.

Waking up every day, he at least knew that Dazai was alive.

Even the day when he woke up with bloodied forearms, the skin ragged around the edges, and a headache that could rival the worst hangover he had.

They both woke up.

That's how the deal worked.

"Do you want to save him?" there was a smile that Dazai didn't trust, and a lilt to the voice that was inhuman - something far older and more powerful than he had ever come across in his seventeen years.

His fingers were digging into the hole in Chuuya's side, trying to staunch the flow from the creature that had torn out a chunk of Chuuya's flesh.

A job. This was supposed to be a normal job.

Chuuya's eyes were open, bleary and reflecting the moonlight, his breath ragged and short, as he tried to clutch at Dazai, his fingers curling and uncurling, but unable to grip even the lapels of Dazai's jacket.

"Yes," the word burned through the Demon Prodigy, a curse and a blessing. An honest answer to a question he never wanted asked.

Dazai woke from the memory with a start, his heartbeat elevated, his breathing short. He didn't dream often of that night, when he and Chuuya made a horrible choice, but they had walked into the deal knowingly.

He just wished that there was a way to free them from it.

He laughed in the darkness, because he didn't know what else to do.

He was stuck with Chuuya, even if he hadn't seen the man in years. And Chuuya had to live with that as well.

Seeing Dazai for the first time in four years, Chuuya frowned. He looked at the man chained up in the dungeon of the main Port Mafia building and stalked over, face shuttered.

Dazai's face brightened into a cunning grin, but before he could say anything, Chuuya had a knife to his throat – an empty threat, considering, but it did make the redhead feel better.

"You know, if you want to kill yourself, you could at least look me in the eye while doing it," Chuuya's voice was soft between them, a whisper so no one else could hear them, even though they were alone. He pressed his lips close to Dazai's ear in a way that would be sensual under any other context, "since you'd be killing me too."

Dazai frowned, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat. "Ah, but-"

"I don't care," the redhead interrupted, slamming the blade of the knife into the pillar next to Dazai’s head, close enough that it nearly cut his cheek. He pulled out a card and placed it in Dazai's breast pocket, palm smoothing the vest. "My new number. I better hear from you." And he walked out, not even giving Dazai time to answer.

He heard Dazai snap his fingers, heard the chains rattling as they fell. He knew Dazai had already picked the locks.

There was little he didn't know about his former partner.

It was strange that Corruption didn't count. Chuuya had always thought it annoying. Corruption could break his bones, and destroy the tendons of his muscles, squash his organs, and yet it was the one fatal injury that Dazai did not share.

He wondered if it was because of Arahabaki, or some other byline in the deal. He wondered if it could be counted as fatal since it was stopped by Dazai. Whatever the reason, it still sucked.

Dazai, holding his wrist while Chuuya fell apart after fighting Lovecraft. "Rest now, Chuuya," the other said, looking at him with something akin to wonder.

Chuuya just spat blood and crumpled to the ground. "You were supposed to turn it off sooner," he growled, halfheartedly.

Dazai chuckled fondly from next to him. "But Chuuya," he said in a singsong voice. He didn't follow it with anything and Chuuya just shook his head, feeling his insides churn and ache.

"Just get me to the extraction point."

He hadn't. But Chuuya wasn't really expecting him too.

With Chuuya being one of the reasons that Dazai was still alive, he thought it no wonder that the other hated him as much as he did.

"You will share wounds that could be fatal, but not pain. Pain belongs solely to the person, does it not?" A titter of a laugh. "Should you die, so should he. And vice versa. What I do is a partnership. Equality until death. Is that a fair deal?"

Dazai placed the whiskey glass down on the bar, rubbing his hand over his face, cutting the memory short. He hadn't thought of that night in so long, though it was always at the edge of his mind. Every time he thought about killing himself, or every time he thought about going into a dangerous situation, he had to think of that deal and what it had cost him. Cost them both.

He sighed. It had been nearly six years.

"Wine, Malbec," a voice said next to him, speaking to the man behind the bar. Dazai didn't have to look up to know Chuuya was beside him. He could feel it in the warmth the other always gave off - Chuuya ran hot, and Dazai had taken advantage of that hundreds of times throughout their… friendship? No, partnership.

Equality until death.

A glass was placed in front of Chuuya and he took the seat next to Dazai.

For a long time, neither of them spoke, both lost in their own thoughts. Dazai was content to watch the ice in his glass slowly melt into the whiskey, and Chuuya sipped casually next to him. The bar was old, and the lighting was soft. It was one of those places that always seemed to attract people looking for romantic rendezvous.

Dazai liked it precisely because it was the type of place that the Armed Detective Agency - bar Ranpo, of course - would never think that he would be.

He wasn't surprised to see Chuuya. It had been three weeks since the whole thing with the Guild - Chuuya had missed the grand finale of the whale due to recovering from Corruption.

Dazai couldn't be sad about that - not when Akutagawa and Atsushi had performed beautifully against Fitzgerald.

Still, the silence between them was getting to him.

"Do you regret it?" he asked softly, looking at Chuuya out of the corner of his eye as he leaned over, pillowing his head on his crossed arms.

Chuuya looked immaculate as always - dressed in one of his stylish ensembles, with the patent shoes shined to a finish, and his stupid hat perched on his head. He had two silver rings on his left hand, and Dazai loved - loathed - how they glimmered in the soft light. His whole body was turned towards Dazai, relaxed and open in a way that the brunette could only dream of being.

Chuuya looked thoughtful for a moment, the silence continuing to stretch between them. "No," he finally whispered. "I don't. I got to live. And call me selfish, but I'm glad you do too."

Dazai huffed half a laugh at that, the sound swallowed by his sleeve. Slowly, he unfurled enough to pull a card out of his pocket - his own business card that Kunikida had forced him to get - and slid it across the bar.

Chuuya's eyes flicked towards it, and then he swiped it off the nicked wooden bar and put it into his pocket.

They didn't say anything after that.

Chuuya was at his wit's end. Mori was under some sort of Ability that none of them could discern, and from the reports, so was Fukuzawa of the Armed Detective Agency. He was in the middle of meeting with the Executives, trying very hard not to punch Ace in the face - it wouldn't do, but Chuuya had hated the man that took over the gem trade after him. If Ace gave him an excuse, Chuuya would drop him, gleefully.

He was about to get up to argue with Ace when he felt a trickle down his leg. Looking down, it was hard to miss the bloodied patch in the front of his vest. He frowned, staring at it in wonder.

What the hell had happened now?

Kouyou was looking at him strangely, but he buttoned his coat over the stain and stood. He squared his shoulders, glowering at the Executives. "This is a waste of time," he growled and then in a commanding tone, "Do your fucking jobs. The Mafia does not fall because of squabbling between us. Any news you report to me."

Ace scoffed, waving his hand in the air. "Who made-?"

"Do you understand?" Chuuya's bright eyes glowered at Ace with a feral gleam, his posture stiff and threatening.

The man backed down immediately. "Yes, though I will-"

"Dismissed, all of you," Chuuya cut him off. Let him complain to Mori. Chuuya had bigger problems. Number one was making sure Mori would recover enough to receive Ace's complaints.

Kouyou hesitated long enough for the rest of the Executives to leave. "Chuuya," she began.

"I apologize, Ane-san," Chuuya told her, and he was getting light headed with blood loss at this point. "There is something I must attend to. We can-We can discuss things over lunch." He hadn't meant to stammer, but there was little he could do about it now.

She nodded, suspiciously, but allowed him to flee into the antechamber.

Chuuya peeled back the jacket and shirt with a stiff groan, the fabric tugging at the wound. While he never felt pain from the initial wound, they had learned over the years that everything else was free game. Infection could set in without proper care.

He sighed, looking at the large wound. Shit, this wasn't a normal bullet wound. This was something much larger caliber.

He dialed Dazai's number, and it kept ringing.

He twisted his coat into a line so he could wrap it around his stomach and back, biting his lip as the pressure caused a spike of pain in his head. Fuck, this was bad.

He called Dazai again.

And again.

And again.

There was no answer.

He wasn't sure exactly how he made it back to his apartment - the penthouse overlooking the harbor that he had lived in since he was eighteen. He sat on the floor so as to not drip blood anywhere, and began to patch up his wounds.

His phone rang. He took one look at the number before answering it with a growled, "The fuck happened to you, mackerel bastard?"

"Who is this?" a voice asked. It was male, and Chuuya thought it was familiar, but he couldn't place it, nor did he have the patience to try.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Ah, Executive Nakahara," the voice said instead, with a knowing glean to it that made Chuuya immediately want to retaliate.

"Yeah? And who the fuck are you."

"Edogawa Ranpo, World's Greatest Detective," was the reply.

Chuuya wanted to scream. Great, there were two of them. "Where the fuck is Dazai?"

"Hmmm… why would an Executive of the Port Mafia want to know that?"

Because I'm afraid I'll die soon, Chuuya couldn't help but think. Very few things could knock either of them out to the point that they couldn't make the phone call.

"I'm not asking again," Chuuya growled. He'd probably be more menacing in person, and without a bleeding wound in his stomach, but he would do what he could on what he had.

"He's alive," the Detective answered.

No shit, Chuuya almost said aloud, but this deal between him and Dazai was a secret that no one else knew of and he planned to keep it that way.

"Good. Tell him I'll kill him later then."

And Chuuya hung up.

Not dead, Dazai had texted several days later.

No shit, Chuuya had replied.

It was the last they spoke to each other for months.

The Mafia had gotten intelligence on a new enemy, one that was trying to get the Book - and Chuuya had snorted, because of course they were - and was willing to let all of Japan die in their quest for it.

Chuuya honestly had no idea what this Book was, but everyone spoke of it like it was the Holy Grail, so he treated it as such. He didn't know why everyone thought it was in Yokohama though - all that was here was three Agencies looking out for the people, while also trying to kill each other whenever they felt slighted.

Still, it was because of Port Mafia that Chuuya didn't go hungry, that Akutagawa could afford his medicine, and so many other little miracles could happen.

There had been an attack on the Port Mafia Headquarters and the Armed Detective Agency offices - bombs placed in both offices. They had gone off at the same time - injuring several between the two organizations. Still, there had been no deaths, and Chuuya was glad of that.

Everyone retreated to the tunnels beneath the city. Mori and Fukuzawa had reached an agreement, though Chuuya hadn't cared to know what it was, and the two set up camp near each other. Although cellphones worked within a certain zone, anyone who tried to make outgoing calls – be it to the Special Abilities Division, or even just across the city, would find their phone on endless ringing, as though there was a perimeter set up around this section of Yokohama.

"It's for the best," Dazai said when Chuuya saw him. The other looked worn, Chuuya noted. There was a stiffness around his eyes that always happened when it had been a few days since he slept.

"The best? Really? Us being next to you. The best for who?" Chuuya was trying to goad him, if only out of annoyance of patching up a sniper bullet and only getting a text about it. He held grudges.

"For all of us," Dazai replied simply, but there was a condescending edge that had Chuuya's hackles rising.

"Bullshit," Chuuya had told him and stomped off. He hated having to rub elbows with the do-gooders of the Armed Detective Agency, and sneered whenever one of them got too close.

It was going to be a long few weeks if they were all stuck in the tunnels together.

The siege lasted longer than any could have thought - Chuuya had believed that it could be over in a few days, but two weeks in, and the invading force was still hammering them from all angles. At this point, there were several triage tents set up for the wounded, and some of the Port Mafia had hung up lanterns as a sort of decoration along the old tracks. It was homely.

Chuuya hated all of it. He wanted to be back in his penthouse, with his wine, and as far away from the Armed Detective Agency as possible. Especially Dazai.

He hadn't heard about the plans until after it mattered. Being in such close quarters, the grapevine of gossip was well and truly at its best - and there were rumors that Dazai had gone to meet the invaders. Or Fyodor. The stories shifted occasionally.

Apparently, one of the grunts told Chuuya, Dazai had an idea on how to get everyone out of here.

Chuuya thought it was complete bullshit, but since when had that bastard ever listen to him?

"Come on," he told Akutagawa, focusing on what he could do instead of worrying about whatever stupidity Dazai got himself into, "We need to get the people out of this quadrant. You take care of the streets, I'll be in the buildings."

The invading force had started to crumple buildings regardless of casualties, and Chuuya wasn't about to allow that to happen. He was above the streets, directing traffic as he could see it, holding off the gunshots as he could.

He had a job to do. He couldn't spend time worrying about Dazai.

Chuuya had been standing with Kouyou and Hirotsu, going over plans for the next sector of the city - see where they could set up evacuation sites and safehouses - when he felt the telltale trickle of one of those injuries on his chest.

Kouyou and Hirotsu were looking concerned at him. "Chuuya?" Kouyou asked.

He looked down his shirt, pulling it away from his chest to make sure, and sure enough, there was a wound there, near his heart.

"Take care of things here," he told them, and sprinted off, ignoring how both reached after him. He only had a brief window before blood loss caught up with him, and by then they could both be dead.

He dodged around the grunts of the Mafia, around the stunned faces of people he knew and didn't, around the guarded hostility of the Armed Detective Agency, and into the small tent that had been set up in the tunnels.

Dazai was on a cot, bleeding profusely from four places, with the Agency doctor above him, placing pressure on the worst of his wounds, and cursing.

Chuuya had no idea what he looked like, breathing heavily from the run it took to get here, eyes blown wide in the frantic need to be here.

The doctor looked up at him, and a dark look passed her face. "You need to leave."

Chuuya looked at the doctor, panic in his eyes. "You have to fix me. Your Ability won't work on him. Fix me and it might work."

"What are you talking about?" Yosano snapped, her hands pressed against the wound in Dazai's chest. It was the most concerning, having gone right near his heart. She could feel it still beating beneath her fingers, slowly, desperately, but healing Dazai had always been more trial and error, less certain than anything else.

Chuuya hesitated. No one, outside of the two of them, knew about that night, and the consequences of their actions. He chewed on his lip, watching Dazai get paler on the bed, staining the white sheets red. Chuuya felt the hole in his own chest, but it would be a few moments before Yosano would see the matching stain. He didn’t know if this would work, but without a full hospital, Dazai was not going to survive.

Chuuya couldn’t allow that.

"It's… a long story," he finished lamely. Even trying to speak the words of that night were hard - and not just because he wasn't the one that had been mostly conscious for them. He knew what happened, had been awake enough to give his consent. He held out his hand, copper crawling up his throat. "Do you want to save him?" His face and tone were serious, his eyes pleading.

Yosano's glare was pure poison.

"Please," Chuuya whispered, meeting her gaze with his own, and hoping that she could see everything inside.

Yosano let out a long, low breath. "You and I are having a very long conversation after this," she promised and she clasped his hand, hers slick with Dazai's blood.

Yosano wasn't sure what to expect, with the mafioso leaning over her, holding out his hand. He looked unharmed, but when she finally let go of Dazai and grabbed the redhead's hand, it was as though her Ability was being forced from her - that this man, standing and looking at her with such trust in his eyes, pleading for her to save Dazai, was dying. It felt like he had been moments from death. The butterflies did their job, finding the mirror injuries on his sternum, head, leg, and shoulder, slowly patching him back together.

She glanced over at Dazai. Color was returning to his face, though he was still unconscious.

The Executive listed to the side, and Yosano was catching him in an instant, jumping to her feet.

"Shit," he whispered drowsily. "That… was a lot."

"Normally people are fine after my work," Yosano told him lightly as she bundled him into the bed next to Dazai's.

"Nothin' normal 'bout us," he murmured, dazedly. "He okay?"

She nodded after taking a moment to check Dazai over. "He is." Her dark eyes flashed at him. "I wasn't joking about that conversation, Executive."

The mafioso nodded. "I don't break my promises, Doctor," he told her before his eyes slid shut.

Yosano sat on the stool in between the beds, looking at the two men, and wondering what the hell was going on?

Ranpo joined her in the triage tent after a while, sitting next to Dazai and chewing on his lollipop. He didn't like to see any one of the Armed Detective Agency injured, but it was always more serious when it was Dazai. There was nothing they could do against No Longer Human - nothing except whatever medical miracles Yosano could conjure up.

His eyes flicked to the unconscious redhead. Strange. The Executive hadn't been injured in the fight - he'd been above the streets, mostly taking care of crowd control, and evacuation. His face scrunched up the more he looked between the two men.

"Is he going to be alright?" Ranpo asked, his face pinched as he frowned.

Yosano nodded. "Yeah, he'll be fine," she told Ranpo. "It wasn't that serious." Not that serious - when Dazai had sustained four bullet wounds.

Catching his eye, she signed no injuries to him.

No injuries? Ranpo replied in sign language - he knew the danger of information, especially with the two involved, and if Yosano was being cautious, he would too. How does that work out?

No idea. I'll find out later.

Ranpo nodded, and crossed his legs. You'll tell me?

I might. It depends.

Ranpo frowned, crunching on his lollipop. Depends?

Yosano gave a shrug, and gestured to the two unconscious men. She didn't need to say any words, spoken or not. When Double Black was involved, they all played by their rules.

Ranpo nodded, keeping her company for a bit. They talked about everything except the two lying between them.

It was hours before the two woke up - Dazai first. He sat up in bed fast enough to give himself whiplash and turned, staring at Yosano, startling her from her phone game. She dropped the phone.

He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut when he saw Chuuya in the bed nearby. Immediately, Dazai went through all of the normal checklists: his breathing was normal from what he could see, and there was a swipe of dried blood on his forehead. It was hard to detect any other injuries under the blankets, but he was sure that Yosano wouldn't let even a mafioso rot in their own blood.

Hopefully.

"You're awake," Yosano said, bringing him back to the present. There was an incredulous tone to her voice that Dazai was having difficulty making sense of.

He turned to look at her, eyes wide. If she was here, and Chuuya was here, his mind was trying to catch up with the all of the information around him.

Dazai turned to her, and immediately, his shields walled up around him. The frantic look in his eye faded and he sighed, dramatically, grinning at her. "Yosano! You brought my sheepdog here?" he asked in his normal jovial tone, only slightly raspy from his long sleep. "If he's going to die, I did want front row seats. How amazing!"

Yosano studied him for a moment, and he shrugged at her, with a chagrined smile on his face. She tapped him lightly on the head with her clipboard. "Let's get you checked over, and you can not bother my other patients," she told him.

"But that's so boring," he complained, though he allowed her to check his pulse, and his heartbeat, to move some of the bandages away to check on the now-completely-healed wounds.

"Yes, it is," she replied, and he sighed. She was apparently in a mood, though he couldn't think on what could have possibly caused it.

It was fifteen minutes or so later, when Dazai had been given a clean bill of health - and Dazai frowned at that, having sure he had been shot at least once - when Chuuya stirred beneath the blankets.

"Out," Yosano told Dazai firmly.

Dazai wanted to argue, or protest, but he found himself being shoved out of the small triage tent and back into the dim lighting of the tunnels.

Kunikida greeted him warmly, or as warm as it got from his blond partner. Ranpo as looking at him carefully, his face pinched in a way that made Dazai uncomfortable.

"How's everything out here?" he asked Kunikida as they walked through the small camp that had been set up in the abandoned tunnels underneath the city. The attack had forced the Armed Detective Agency out of their offices again, and Dazai wondered if they should think about making secret tunnels through the city like Port Mafia did for protection.

He should bring that up with Fukuzawa.

Later, of course.

"Same as usual," Kunikida reported, but there was a note of something in his voice that Dazai couldn't name.

"Is that so?" Dazai asked.

Kunikida frowned. He opened his mouth and closed it several times. Dazai waited. Finally, Kunikida asked, "You were shot, weren't you?" His brows were furrowed as he noticed the blood splatter on his shirt and trousers.

Dazai's smile fell, his mind working overtime to try and figure out the answer. He had been. That meant his memory wasn't inaccurate, but if he had been shot, then how was he healed?

Yosano couldn't do anything.

"I thought so, too," Dazai answered, honestly for once. "Clearly I was wrong!"

Kunikida looked like he was about to protest more, but Dazai patted him on the shoulder and rushed off.

He needed to talk with Chuuya as soon as possible. The redhead was the only one that would have the information that Dazai needed about this.

He inwardly shuddered at having to seek out the chibi himself, but needs must - and Dazai was in need of knowing what happened.

He'd have to corner him later. There was still so much work to be done.

Yosano stared at Chuuya. The redhead was pale, but hale as he sat up in the bed. He rubbed absently at his chest, and then looked at the bed behind her, his eyes softening when he saw that they were alone.

"You owe me an explanation," she told him firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Chuuya sighed. His chest twinged just a bit, and he wondered if that was due to the fact that he had it healed with an Ability instead of on its own like normal. The rules of the deal were… fuzzy at times, and he just had to meet that head on.

"Doctor," he said seriously. "I owe you a drink as well, but if we could not talk about it here?"

Do you know sign language? she signed at him.

His eyes followed her movements carefully. "No idea what that was just there," he told her truthfully. He flushed. "I mean, I guess its sign language? But I don't know it. I just know thank you." He demonstrated the sign to her, a little clumsily.

She sighed. "And you say its not safe here?"

He gave a hollow laugh. "Lady, its not safe anywhere for this conversation, but I sure ain't havin' it in a tent."

She couldn't help chuckling. "Fine. You're good to go. Clean bill of health. But I'll be calling on you soon."

He scrounged in his pockets, pulling out his wallet and handed her a business card, holding it back for a moment before handing it over. "Personal number's on the back. Don't overuse it."

She snorted. "Like I would."

He shrugged. "I'll hear from you soon, I suppose."

She grinned but didn't say anything as he left the tent.

The camp was bustling like normal. He hoped that the streets above them had been evacuated. His chest kept twinging, but it wasn't terrible. More like if someone was flicking their fingers against where the wound should be than anything he should care about.

He was making his way towards the Port Mafia side of the camp when a hand clenched around his elbow. Turning, he saw Dazai with an unreadable expression on his face.

"The fuck?" he growled, but Dazai was already yanking him away from the camp to one of the service tunnels.

He swung Chuuya around, until Chuuya's back hit the wall. "What did you say?" he snarled.

Chuuya glowered at him. "Gee, thanks Chuuya for saving my fucking life, do I owe you a glass of wine? Yes, Dazai, I'd say you do." Chuuya's voice was mocking as he held Dazai's gaze.

Something in Dazai's eyes softened at these words. "Did you say anything?" he asked softly.

Chuuya huffed, glaring at the taller man. "Nothing yet. But your doc wants an explanation."

"How'd you make it happen?"

"Healed me instead. Seemed to work."

"Any drawbacks?"

Chuuya bit his lip. He tried not to, but the twinge in his chest was annoying and he couldn't help focusing on it.

"Chuuya," Dazai sounded exasperated when he said his name.

Chuuya shrugged. "Too late now to worry 'bout it, mackerel," he said with what he hoped was a jovial grin. "If that's all-"

"That is not all." Dazai's arms were caging Chuuya against the wall.

Chuuya could hear the thrump of his heartbeat skipping. He crossed his arms instead, holding Dazai's unreadable gaze. The moment held between the two before Chuuya sighed.

"Fine, my chest hurts a little - nothing for you to worry about, stop that." Dazai's fingers were digging into Chuuya's upper arms. The brunette seemed to notice what he was doing and stepped back, blinking in surprise.

"Fuck's sake, Dazai," Chuuya growled, giving the other a dark look.

"I-" Dazai wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

Chuuya straightened the sleeves of his coat. He stood awkwardly, chewing on his lip. "As long as you are alive, I am too - that's the deal right?" His voice was low, his eyes flitting to the mouth of the corridor, keeping his eyes open for any signs of intruders.

Dazai nodded, a touch unsure where Chuuya was going with this.

"Don't you think its time we told someone?" the redhead asked. "I don't know a lot about your doctor, but she seems trustworthy - she was willing to trust me to save your life. And its strange that her Ability worked the way it did."

"Did it?" Dazai's voice was soft. He leaned forward, peeling away Chuuya's shirt from his chest, and Chuuya let him, looking down. There was a small red scar where Dazai's should have been, puckered and agitated, as though it was new and ready to begin bleeding at any point. "I don't think the deal liked that you found a loophole."

Chuuya ran his fingers lightly over the red mark, wincing slightly as a spike of pain shot through his nerves. "Huh," he said once he caught his breath again. "That's new."

Dazai frowned. In six years, it had always remained the same. One of them would get fatally injured and the other would get a mirror wound - just enough to get the other help.

"What is changing it?"

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Like I know."

"I wasn't expecting you too, slug, I was just talking out loud."

"You're annoying, mackerel."

"Not half as much as you."

"Got any ideas?"

"One."

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, gesturing with his hand for Dazai to continue.

Dazai took a moment to think. "We could go back. Try and find… them again."

Chuuya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're in the middle of a siege, dammit. We can't just waltz off to try and find… them."

"I could fix that," Dazai promised.

Chuuya looked unimpressed. "Last time you tried that, you got four bullet wounds. If you're going, I'm going with you. Least I could do."

Dazai shook his head. "I can take Akutagawa and Atsushi, you should rest."

"Ha? You just want me to lay around while you waltz off and kill us?" His voice was rising and he had to take a long, deep breath to calm it again.

Dazai gave him a long look, loaded with emotions that Chuuya could not even begin to name. Chuuya held his gaze, confusion dancing across his features.

Finally, Dazai shook his head. "We have no idea why this time is different. Since it seems to be effecting you more, then you should rest." His face softened, just a fraction. "I'll return soon, and we'll fix this."

Chuuya snorted, crossing his arms. "Bold words considering how all of this started."

Dazai barked out a startled laugh, though there was nothing humorous about it. "Promise, chibi."

"Don't kill us, mackerel."

And Dazai was gone.

Chuuya leaned against the wall, rubbing the sore spot on his chest. Each movement brought tingles through his body, and he sighed. He wondered if it was the loophole that did it - the being they had come across had seemed to like the letter of the deal. If Chuuya could just have them healed from his end, it didn't give proper homage to the spirit of the agreement.

He rubbed his eyes - as much as he hated to admit it, rest did sound like a good idea. Slowly he made it back to his bunk in one of the offshoot rooms. He took the time to visit the Port Mafia medic on the way, grabbing a handful of square guaze patched and some medical tape.

He might as well staunch the bleeding if he could.

Unlike most of the Executives of Port Mafia, Chuuya had elected to sleep with the Black Lizard in a large rectangular room with over a dozen bunk beds placed between them. He made his way to the one he claimed - the back corner, where he could keep an eye on everything, and climbed the ladder, flopping onto his side on the cheap mattress. He sat up after a moment, unbuttoning his partially bloodied shirt and bandaged the wound with the supplies he had stolen before flopping down again.

His memory of that night was hazy as best, filled with blood loss and blurry with pain. They'd be up against… some minor gang, he thought, that had run into the forest, and when they followed.

Chuuya squeezed his eyes shut. Just sleep, just sleep, don't think about it.

It was hard not to think about the beast that had almost killed him, the open maw with teeth as long as Chuuya's forearm, inhuman eyes reflecting the moonlight through the trees, claws sinking into the earth, scratching the dirt as it prepared to pounce.

Chuuya held a hand against his chest, clenching the fist. He didn't want to remember, but when did what he want matter?

"I can heal him, using you," the voice explained. The creature in front of Dazai and Chuuya was beautiful in a dangerous way - lithe and graceful, a panther in human form. Their bright orange eyes practically glowed in the dark.

Dazai frowned. "What does that even mean?" he bit out, fierce in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

"I can bind your lives together. It comes at a cost, but you would both live."

Dazai's hands were covered in Chuuya's blood and Chuuya was trying to stay conscious, trying to stay alive. "What's the cost?"

"You will share wounds that could be fatal, but not pain. Pain belongs solely to the person, does it not?" A titter of a laugh. "Should you die, so should he. And vice versa. What I do is a partnership. Equality until death. Is that a fair deal?"

"Abilities don't work on me," Dazai explained sourly. "Is ther-"

"This is not an Ability, child," the creature informed him.

"Wake up, Chuuya," a voice berated in his ear. Chuuya's eyes snapped open, his hand already on the knife he kept under his pillow, looking to -

Someone was clenching his wrist and he could feel the weight of the world once again.

With a groan, Chuuya allowed his eyesight to form Dazai in front of him. "Dazai," he sneered, pulling his hand away from the other and sitting up. "Looks like you aren't dead."

Dazai sent him a wry smile. "Not today, anyway," he replied, but his attention was focused on Chuuya's chest, where a thin trickle of blood was staining his dress shirt through the bandages.

Chuuya pressed his fingers against the wound, wincing. "The fuck?" he whispered, eyes darting to Dazai. "Did you-?"

Dazai shook his head and gestured at his own clean chest. "Nothing here."

Chuuya sighed. Nothing he could do about it by worrying, so he sat up, stretching some of the kinks from his muscles. "Are we-?"

Dazai gave him half a grin. "We are going on a scouting mission beyond the tunnels to see what the enemy has in store for us."

Chuuya frowned. "So we're not-?"

Dazai rolled his eyes. "Of course we're going back there, slug," he snapped. "You really are slow."

"You're still a dumbass."

"At least I'm not the one who's dying."

Chuuya's eyes flashed. "And who's fucking fault is that?"

Dazai's shoulders drooped as though Chuuya had landed a kick to his sternum, expelling all breath. "That… I was arrogant," he said. It was the closest to an apology that Dazai could give.

Chuuya tapped the brunette's forehead with his knuckles, making Dazai scrunch his nose. "Tell me something I don't know, asshole."

He slid down the ladder of the bunk, looking around at the empty room. Would this count as them abandoning the siege? Would people die because he couldn't be there to save them? And what of Dazai? What about his plans and plots?

Was going back to that forest the right thing to do?

When he looked up at Dazai, the other seemed a million miles away, eyes focused on Chuuya like he was trapped in a memory.

"Why would you do this?" Dazai snapped, glaring at the being. "What do you-?"

"D-Daz-" Chuuya was trying to speak, but it was hard with blood bubbling out of his lips, choking him.

Dazai stared at the redhead, the first person that he had any interest in since he could remember. Could he promise to live for Chuuya? Could he promise to live at all?

The being waved their hand and the blood disappeared from Chuuya's throat. The redhead took in a ragged gasp, the sensation of copper still on his tongue.

"I do not enter deals without all participants agreeing," they said. "There is no fun in that."

"Say you heal him - and do whatever this is," Dazai protested. "What do you get out of it?"

The creature smiled wide, toothy and feral. "Entertainment," they said simply, and Dazai wasn't sure if that was the truth or not, but he didn't care.

Could he live for Chuuya?

He didn't know, but he would try.

"Chuuya?" he asked softly, lifting the other's torso up so he was leaning on Dazai. Dazai felt the warmth of the blood surging between them from the wound and Chuuya looking up at the creature with dazed wonder on his face.

"I… I don't want to die," the redhead whispered, his voice pleading. His voice was soft in Dazai's ear, and he could barely hold Dazai's gaze.

And there was nothing for it after that.

Dazai agreed.

"Dazai?" Chuuya's voice was tentative, breaking the spell of the memory. Dazai blinked rapidly, looking at the redhead.

"You don't regret what we did," he whispered. It wasn't a question, more of a realization, spoken with a touch of wonder.

Chuuya huffed as they left the room, making their way down the tunnels. "Something was always going to kill me," the redhead murmured, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks when he felt Dazai's eyes on him. "At least I got six years if this is how I go."

Something didn't sit right in Dazai with those words. He couldn't believe that Chuuya would be so… so passive about his own life, when Dazai had to fight tooth and nail every day to not accidentally kill them.

"You suck," Dazai grumbled. He had no other words for the emotion roiling inside him.

Chuuya shook his head. "And you're a dick." He looked down at his bloody shirt. "Should I change?"

Dazai shrugged. "You'll probably bleed all over the next one as well."

Chuuya grimaced, but didn't argue with it. It was probably true. "Should we tell the Bosses?" he asked, following Dazai towards the exit staircase nearby.

A dark look crossed Dazai's face. "They know."

Chuuya wasn't sure he wanted to know what conversation he had missed while dozing. As it was, he was already wary of leaving.

"If this doesn't-" His voice cut off as sunlight blinded him when Dazai opened the door at the top of the stairs.

Dazai looked at him, eyebrow raised.

Chuuya sighed, shouldering past him. "If this doesn't work," he began again, not looking at the other. "You make sure they're all safe."

"If Chuuya dies, so do I, how would I accomplish that?"

"If its just me then-"

"Chuuya needs to stop being so depressing."

"And you need to start taking things seriously."

A snort of laughter. "When have I ever been serious?" he grinned at the other, but his smile froze at the expression on Chuuya's face.

The redhead smiled, sadness tinged at the edges, though he tried to play it off as annoyance when he said, "Once."

They didn't speak after that. Dazai hot wired a car, and they made their way through the broken streets of Suribachi City, checking on where the invaders were, what information they could glean, and then they headed out of the city to a place they hadn't been in six years. Dazai was constantly texting Ranpo the updates. They had to abandon the car after a squad of enemies saw them and riddled it with bullets, scampering low across the rubble after Chuuya had decimated them, finding a new vehicle.

Dazai laughed when Chuuya flipped the old car onto the invaders.

They didn’t speak as they left town, Dazai’s hands white on the steering wheel and Chuuya slumped in his seat, trying to memorize the view. The pain in his chest wasn’t slowing. He didn’t want to say anything to Dazai, but he thought it was getting bigger.

The forest was just as dense as Chuuya remembered it. He leaned forward on the dashboard of the car, frowning at the dark depths. Even from this distance - several hundred feet away - the forest gave off a foreboding feeling, a predator waiting with claws and teeth out.

Dazai placed the car in park in a field. It didn't matter to him if this was someone's private property. It wasn't even his car. His eyes narrowed, trying to pick up anything in the shadowed depths of the forest. Would they see that beast again? It was daytime, so it felt like it should be safer to enter, but nothing about the forest gave off the feeling of safe.

"Ready?" Dazai asked softly.

Chuuya snorted beside him, un-clipping the seat belt. "If that giant beast comes for us this time, I'm letting you get eaten."

Dazai couldn't help the bark of laughter that ripped from his chest. “But then how will Chibi prove he’s my dog,” Dazai complained, but his normal teasing voice was strained and Chuuya could see the tightness around his eyes.

They were both worried.

Which would probably sound insane to anyone back home. The idea of Double Black hesitating before a large group of trees would be blasphemous to many that knew them.

But they could only guess what awaited them inside.

Chuuya, in a moment that he would call insanity, grabbed Dazai’s hand before they entered the forest, threading his fingers through the other’s and squeezing in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Dazai sent him a look, but didn’t say anything, and they walked beneath the trees.

Immediately they could feel the pressure of the trees – as though a thousand eyes were staring at them from the shadows. The hairs on the back of Chuuya’s neck stood up and he couldn’t help looking from side to side. At one point, he made to drop Dazai’s hand, but the other held him firmly.

If it wasn’t for the atmosphere, the forest was quiet beautiful – tall, sturdy red trees reaching higher than Chuuya could see, with dense, lush underbrush everywhere. Flowers grew wild wherever there was a lone patch of sunlight that had managed to make it to the ground. He could see some animals chattering away as they kept about their business. It was another world beneath these trees – for better or worse, he thought.

Dazai’s eyes were narrowed as he looked around the forest, dragging Chuuya behind him. Chuuya stumbled once trying to keep up with the other’s long strides. Annoyed, he stopped dead, causing Dazai to stop abruptly.

“What the fuck?” Dazai asked, his voice hushed.

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “Not everyone is a fucking beanpole, so give me my hand back or slow the fuck down.” His voice was equally quiet. It seemed wrong to speak here – there was a stillness to the air that lent itself to silence, or to the merrymaking of only those that lived there.

Dazai’s eyes flicked from their conjoined hands to the bloody gauze peeking out of Chuuya’s shirt before sighing heavily and nodding.

They continued at a more reasonable pace, and Chuuya was honestly surprised that Dazai had chosen to still hold his hand.

The forest itself seemed to be guiding them to the center, though if anyone asked Chuuya to explain that later, he didn’t think he would be able to. It was the sway of the branches, the call of a fox, the warmth of the sun when it finally broke through the trees. Nothing about this forest was explicable – and Chuuya would never try.

There was a softly lit clearing ahead, which had Chuuya frowning. He squeezed Dazai’s hand twice and the other looked at him out of the side of his eye. Chuuya held his gaze and then flicked his glance to the clearing. Dazai nodded.

The two crept closer, backs bent as they tried to get a view of the clearing.

Chuuya wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like being this close to the clearing. Everything in him told him to run away. 

The clearing was a wide oval shape, with soft grass and patches of wildflowers in all colors sprinkled around. A large, gnarled tree, its branches drooping with verdant leaves and bright pink buds stood sentinel in the center. A deer and a fawn were at one end of the clearing, nuzzling the flowers. A light mist lay over the area, making it hard to see past it.

Chuuya glanced at the sky, frowning at how dark it had gotten – it felt as though they were only in the forest for an hour, but evening was settling over the sky, the sun dipping low.

He shuddered. Nothing about this seemed right. His eyes kept tracking back to the tree, to the glow of fireflies that danced around its branches, the way the trunk conjoined and twisted around itself, taller than any other, a vague feeling of threat eminating from the dark bark. 

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya gave Dazai’s hand a firm squeeze and let go, standing tall. Dazai mimicked his movements and they walked into the clearing.

Being inside this otherworldly place was strange – even with the night’s chill creeping in, the air was still warm and heavy, as though it were mid-afternoon.

They were startled by a humanoid figure under the tree, a discarded set of musical pipes next to them. Their hand was on the trunk of the tree, their fingertips stroking the bark almost lovingly.

“I am bored of you both, I was hoping for a tragic ending by now, and I don’t like loopholes,” the being said, languishing against the tree, voice deep and even, with a hint of hounds or storm in it. There was a predatory anger at the mention of loopholes.

If Chuuya had to describe the other, he wouldn’t be able to, wouldn’t be able to say if they were a man or a woman or something else entirely, wouldn’t be able to tell anyone the color of their hair or their skin, only that they were more beautiful than anything Chuuya had ever seen, and that they had bright orange eyes that glowed brighter as the sun set.

That unreadable gaze flicked to Dazai as the two approached warily. “How have you not killed yourself by now, child?”

Dazai was taken aback. He shook off the momentary surprise and grinned, “Guess I’m not good at it.”

The being was tall, taller than either of them as they stood, walking over to Dazai. “Pity,” they murmured in the tall man’s ear. “I had such high hopes for you.”

Something in Dazai stiffened at those words. Chuuya sent a frantic look at him – the way the being said it, it sounded like… Boss, the same cadence and melody of words that Mori always used. The being’s smile was feral and wide as they touched Dazai’s face.

“That is a much better emotion on you,” they whispered, still mimicking Mori. “Fear looks so delightful on you.”

Chuuya did the only thing he could think of, watching Dazai’s eyes blown wide, and his breath shallow as whatever the being did was trapping him somewhere else. He barreled into the tall figure, cutting off their physical connection to Dazai, and standing in between them, glowing red and eyes narrowed.

He’d burn this entire forest to the ground rather than let this creature prey on Dazai’s past. His fists were clenched and his upper lip curled against the enemy.

The being laughed, their bright eyes catching the sun. “Are you his protector?” the creature said their hand reaching out to Chuuya, but he stepped back out of reach. Recognition danced on the other’s face. “Arahabaki, to see you caged… we had such fun in the old days.” Chuuya wasn’t sure, but he thought this creature’s eyes grew brighter and his smile was more dangerous. “I could bring you back – I am sick of these two.”

Chuuya noted that Dazai’s breathing was evening out behind him.

“Would you like that? To shed all humanity and become.”

Chuuya wasn’t sure what happened next – he could feel cold, long fingers grasping his wrist – and then his mind was assailed with visions, the violence of Arahabaki, the joy of seeing men fall before them, of toppling civilizations. The anger of being caught by humans because of a misstep, the hatred that kept their mind together, the patience of immortality, waiting for the most opportune time to take over, to let go, to burn everything to the ground.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe.

Dazai’s arms looped around his chest brought a cool breeze in a vortex of chaos, although his mind still felt like it was ripping itself apart. He was shaking, he was sobbing. Every breath was glass coated his throat. His chest was on fire, the gauze soaked through, no longer stopping the torrent of blood from the wound that shouldn’t even be his.

“You do not want to let him go?” they asked Dazai. They cocked their head to the side as a fox or a wolf might, almost confused. “I thought you would enjoy his death.”

Dazai's blood froze to ice at this. He felt Chuuya's breath hitch against his chest, the only outward appearance that the other was effected by the being's words.

Dazai sniffed, dramatically, though even he was still shaking from his ordeal. “Shows you’re an idiot – I haven’t spent six years keeping us alive to lose him now.”

"You will, though,” the creature continued. “He’s dying. Or did you not realize?” The creature laughed, leaning back against the tree, his fingers splayed on the trunk. “I give it an hour-”

“Fix him,” the scream is raw in Dazai’s throat as he hugged Chuuya closer to him, his hands pressing against the smaller man’s sternum, trying to staunch the blood, trying to do something.

“No,” the creature replied simply.

Dazai’s eyes were fierce as Chuuya tried not to choke on blood. This was too much – too like before.

A whisper on the wind, from the confines of Dazai’s mind, I… I don’t want to die.

“A new deal then, one between you and me-”

“No.” There was no emotion in that voice, just boredom.

Dazai felt when Chuuya’s legs gave out from under his, sinking them both to the ground. He looked around, trying to figure out anything, to make a plan, to get them back to where they needed to be. They had come here to break the deal, but not like this – they were both supposed to walk away from this.

The creature squatted in front of them, scratching their chin as they stared at him. “See?” they whispered. “That face. This is why I love tragedy, unlike most of my kind.”

“Chuuya,” Dazai’s voice was soft in the redhead’s ear. “Chuu? I’ve got an idea.”

Blue eyes flicked up towards him, hazy with pain. Dazai smiled, smoothing the hair out of Chuuya’s face, leaving a trail of bloody streaks. “Of-of course you do, conn-cn’vin,”Chuuya murmured, his breath hitching. “B’star’.”

Dazai couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “Chuuya, can you stand? One last time?”

Chuuya blinked warily at him, but gave him a slight nod. Dazai’s eyes flicked up, and at first when Chuuya followed his gaze, he thought the brunette was motioning him to the being. But when Dazai did it again, he realized the plan – spoken in a way that only the two of them could ever discern. Dazai grunted as he lifted up Chuuya’s weight, getting his feet under him, and then stepped away from him.

Immediately, Chuuya glowed red with the power of Tainted Sorrow.

It was a desperate act, but they only had desperation now.

“I think you should reconsider,” Dazai growled, a predatory gleam in his eye.

The creature laughed. “Why? Because you’ve decided to grow a heart? Boring.”

Dazai’s laugh lacked all mirth, sounding almost deranged. “No, because if you don’t, Chuuya is going to rip your tree to shreds.”

Chuuya had already taken off, weaving around the creature at a speed faster than he had ever gone before, and was alight on the trunk, near the top, the entire tree glowing with the light of his Ability, far out of reach of this impossibly tall creature.

For the first time since they had come across this enemy, the being’s face melted into something that wasn’t condescending.

“Fear, was it?” Dazai asked nonchalantly. His grin became feral, almost matching what the creature’s was before. “Fear looks so delightful on you.” He moved to step next to other, both of them watching Chuuya, shaking with effort, holding the ancient tree hostage.

“I could kill you right now,” they growled, no longer amused, their visage morphing to something more beast-like.

“And my slug will still destroy your tree,” Dazai countered. “I don’t know what you are, or who you are, but you seem to like that tree. What happens to you if we destroy it?”

“You will not have the opportunity to find out.” Their teeth grew, and their back hunched, and Dazai blinked as the beautiful being transformed into the beast that had taken down Chuuya six years ago.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” he muttered, lips twisting in a way that almost said impressed. His voice was deadly serious when he continued, not breaking eye contact with the beast. “Re-do the deal. Bring it back the way it originally was, and we all walk out of here. Fix him. Bring back the bond if you have to – I don’t know what weird rules you need, but we walk out of here.”

The beast seemed to contemplate this for a moment, and Chuuya watched from his perch, making sure to keep his Ability up. Something had stiffened within him when he saw the beast again – and they really had just been dancing to this creature’s tune this entire time. From the initial attack, to the first deal. Everything had been orchestrated for entertainment. Chuuya almost let the tree disintegrate on principle. He wasn’t a fan of being played with.

Dazai didn’t look up at him.

Finally, after a long moment, half-shifting to where they were beast and humanoid the creature sneered, “Deal,” they growled, the word guttural through their long fangs. “He will be healed, and you will both continue in your fatal partnership.” His large mouth opened in a grotesque grin. “One last stipulation.”

Dazai cocked an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If you utilize a loophole such as this in the future,” the being said, “he will die, immediately. And painfully. That is now a part of our contract.”

Dazai’s eyes blazed. He looked at Chuuya then, looked at the pale skin, and the red glow, and the crimson stain that had only grown on his chest, the blood dripping onto the leaves.

“Fine,” he bit out.

“We have a deal,” the creature grasped his hand, and Dazai could almost feel the bond slip into place again. For one second, he could feel Chuuya’s heartbeat next to his in his chest. For a brief moment, he looked down to see a speckle of crimson on his own chest before the wound was wiped away as though it had never been there.

And then the sensation was gone. Chuuya dropped to the ground, graceful as always, and stood tall. He still had blood from Dazai’s fingers raked through his hair. There was a trickle of it on his chin as well.

“Out,” the creature growled.

And perhaps it was because Chuuya was no longer attached to the tree, or perhaps it was something that the being could do all along, and had not, but in the blink of an eye, with a nauseating turn of his stomach, the two were standing in the field beyond the borders of the forest again. The night sky twinkled with a blanket of a thousand stars – so many more than one could see in the city. Their stolen car was waiting for them, windows rolled down.

Dazai turned to Chuuya and swept him up in a long, tight embrace, just to make sure it was Chuuya standing here instead of another trick.

“Oy, the fuck, gerroff!” Chuuya snarled into Dazai’s chest.

Dazai laughed, freely for the first time in what felt like ages. It could be no one else.

The two walked back to the car. “So we’re-”

“Business as usual, slug,” Dazai said, walking a little bit in front of him.

Chuuya frowned. “Dazai-” he began. Dazai stopped and turned, and Chuuya looked away. “I don’t get it. You could have finally died. You could have finally been rid of me. Why did you-?”

Dazai gave him a crooked smile, the wind ruffling his hair and his coat, and the words died in Chuuya’s throat. The redhead shivered, from the cold, from the blood loss that he still had to make up, and from the look in Dazai’s unreadable honey eyes.

“If I have to live,” the taller man said carefully, each word chosen precisely. “Then you do, too. You’re not getting out of this life before me, slug.”

Chuuya felt something stir in his chest – whether it be his heartbeat, or Dazai’s, or something entirely foreign. “Ha?” he blustered, partially because the moment was too charged, there was too much unsaid between them at this point: of how Dazai had cradled Chuuya carefully when the visions were too much, or how Chuuya’s instinct was to protect Dazai above even his own life. There would be time for those conversations later, for long nights of drinking, and conversations that would shatter the space between them.

It was somewhere between the corners of the city and where they dropped off their car that Chuuya said, “I still owe your crazy doctor an explanation.”

Dazai’s mouth had hardened and after a moment, he nodded. “Bring in a few we can trust. I don’t like that they’re still out there,” he said, finally. “It might be better to have backup moving forward.”

Chuuya stared at him, disbelieving, and then chuckled. This was the new Dazai – the one he didn’t know, the one who could rely on people outside of Chuuya. Something pinged in the redhead when he thought this, just for a moment, but he let it go. Double Black was a partnership – and they would always be partners in ways that the rest of the world would question – but it was time for them both to grow.

“Yeah,” Chuuya agreed, placing his elbow out the car window, letting his hand dance in the wind.

Utilizing Dazai and Chuuya’s scouting mission, Ranpo had organized a counter-assault, having finally gotten in touch with the Special Abilities Division after weeks of their messengers being killed, and their signals being jammed. Trapped between three organizations at full force – especially once Dazai and Chuuya returned to the fray – they managed to chase the invaders out of Yokohama and go home.

Three weeks later, Chuuya watched Yosano poured the wine for all of them, sitting outside the cafe and watching Yokohama slowly begin to right itself. This particular area hadn’t been hit hard by the invading force, but it wasn’t hard to see the destruction nearby, or the ragged looks on the faces of the citizens.

“Are we waiting for others?” the woman asked. Chuuya looked at the label of the wine – a solid choice – and rubbed his chest. Although healed, it still twinged from time to time, a reminder.

“I asked Kouyou and Hirotsu to be here,” Chuuya said, not meeting the doctor’s eyes. Dazai and him had thought long and hard on who they would bring into the fold of this secret, and decided to start with two people each, though Dazai mentioned he wanted to bring Kunikida in soon as well, and Chuuya mentioned Akutagawa. But for now, they would start with two apiece. 

Yosano nodded. “Before the others get here and while-” Her eyes slid across to Dazai, who was feeding a flock of crows with a breadstick he had absconded from the table and being a menace. “Are you alright?”

Chuuya snorted. “For now,” he answered mildly. There was nothing to be said. The deal with the deal.

Kouyou, Hirotsu, and Ranpo arrived soon after, and after a very stilted start, with far too much posturing, Dazai and Chuuya told them of the forest and the creature that lived there, of a deal that had been made in desperation and renewed in desperation with someone that was beyond all of them.

They would need allies, just in case the creature came for them after all.

They would need friends, for the days when they could not look after each other, people who could answer that phone call when one of them couldn’t, who could be backup for when anything happened.

The sunset glowed and fell, the night wind chill as the six opened bottle after bottle, forming an alliance that transcended organizations.