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After years of working with, teasing, and picking on Chuuya Nakahara, Dazai would like to think he knows the guy pretty well. Short, stubborn, easily riled up, and a real pain in the ass when he wants something and won’t back down. He’s also drop-dead gorgeous with an appreciation for nice wines, teas, and flowers — his favourites being lilies.
However, none of his previous experience with Chuuya prepared him for having the shrimp himself slam open the Armed Detective Agency’s doors this lovely Monday morning hard enough they crash into the adjacent walls with a bang. Thus, Dazai blinks, squinting towards the fuming redhead, and is mildly certain he fell asleep at his desk again; it wouldn’t be the first time he fell asleep at work and dreamt of Chuuya storming into the agency.
But then the redhead opens his mouth and Dazai’s hopes are dashed. In his dreams, he and Chuuya never do much talking.
“ARMED DETECTIVE ASSHOLES! LISTEN UP!” There is fury simmering in Chuuya’s pretty blue eyes that has Dazai unconsciously straightening his spine. Whatever happened, this is serious. Chuuya is pissed.
Those in the room — Kunikida, Atsushi, Kyouka, Kenji, Ranpo, and Dazai himself — stare at the Port Mafia executive as he stomps his way into the room and dramatically slams a manila folder down on the desk in front of Ranpo. Said detective peers at the bulging file held together with two red elastics curiously, then shrugs and goes back to his lollipop.
“This,” Chuuya snarls, pointing at the file, “is everything I have on Mori fucking Ogai.” Dazai’s lips part in shock, though he recovers quickly and clicks his jaw shut, cocking his head in interest. What could have prompted such a sudden change of heart from the Port Mafia’s most loyal dog?
“I want him destroyed,” Chuuya continues, pacing as best he can in the cramped office room full of detectives ready to attack should things go sideways. “I don’t care how you do it. I want his company torn to the ground, his assets ruined, his stocks in the red. Then, once he understands what it feels like to have everything he loves torn away, then I’ll kill him.” A red glow flares around Chuuya’s silhouette. “I’ll kill him slowly. So that he has more than enough time to regret what he did.”
“And.” Dazai freezes up for a moment as Chuuya whirls to face him, fury lining every inch of his tiny body. “Ah, what exactly did Mori do? In case you forgot, Chibi, the Port Mafia and Armed Detective Agency are in a truce right now. Us going after Mori would be a direct breach of that truce.” Dazai’s lips quirk up as Chuuya growls, just like the dog Dazai always said he was.
Truth be told, the moment Chuuya stepped in here, Dazai knew he’d go along with whatever plan the shrimp was cooking up. Obviously he has to. Chuuya’s plans are always so boring and straightforward, so it’s up to Dazai to help his old partner out.
Still, he always did love watching Chuuya squirm.
“That fucking bastard broke my trust,” Chuuya spits out. Ooh, now this is really getting good. Mori fucked up big time. Dazai grins; he’s been waiting for this moment for years. “I don’t care about that stupid truce right now. Help me get rid of him, and I’ll sign whatever truce you want after that.” Chuuya snorts. “God knows Ane-san won’t want to head the Port Mafia, so it’ll fall to me. Unfortunate, but whatever. I care more about tearing that slimy, motherfucking, a—”
“Calm now, Chibi,” Dazai cuts in, clicking his tongue. “There are children present.” He gestures at Kenji and Kyouka. The girl gives a small wave as Chuuya glances in her direction, while the boy just smiles cheerfully.
Chuuya groans, his gloved fingers rising to grip at the roots of his pretty red hair. Oh, do Dazai’s eyes deceive him or did the shrimp finally get rid of that dumb hat? He always thought it was a shame Chuuya hid his lovely locks beneath such an ugly hat.
Plus, it’s a lot harder to ‘accidentally’ run your fingers through someone’s hair if they wear a stupid hat.
But, Chuuya gripping his own hair, tugging at the silky locks in frustration, his head tipped back to look up at the roof, displaying that lovely neck and the choker cinched tight around his pale throat… Dazai swallows thickly and quickly looks away. This is real life, not one of his very unrealistic asleep-at-his-desk dreams. Real life Chuuya hates Dazai and would probably be horrified to learn of the very unhateful thoughts Dazai has been having of the other.
After another deep breath, Chuuya lets go of his hair and levels the whole office with a glare. “I’m very serious about this. I’ll even pay you, like an actual client or whatever. I want Mori destroyed, and if you need something that isn’t in that file,” Chuuya points a gloved finger at the monster-sized folder sitting on Ranpo’s desk, “I will get it to you myself.”
Ranpo hums thoughtfully around the stick of his lollipop. “Interesting, but this isn’t really a case that needs solving. I don’t wanna spend all day coming up with stuff to pin against Mr. Mori, sorry Mr. Fancy Hat.”
“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t.” Chuuya flicks his gaze to Dazai, and Dazai grins. Oh? What’s this?
They stare at each other for a long, tense moment. Dazai knows exactly what Chuuya is asking, and Chuuya knows that Dazai knows. Dazai just wants to hear it out loud, and he knows that Chuuya knows that, too.
“Um, Mr. Nakahara,” Atsushi pipes in, “if it’s legal action you want to take against Mr. Mori, then maybe you should go to the police?”
“Don’t be stupid, kid.” Chuuya grunts without breaking eye contact with Dazai. “If they aren’t the cops Mori’s got bought off, then they’ll probably try to arrest me alongside him. That’s just a pain.”
“O-oh. I see.” Atsushi’s shoulders curve in. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“Nah, kid.” Chuuya huffs, flapping a gloved hand at the weretiger absentmindedly. “You work legally, your first thought should be to collaborate with the cops when possible.” Atsushi perks up a little at that reassurance.
“Besides.” Chuuya’s jaw clenches. “I. Ugh.” His eyes narrow, glaring at Dazai. For his part, Dazai’s grin widens.
“Yes, Chibi? Does the shrimp have something to say?” Dazai bats his eyelashes sweetly and delights in the way Chuuya’s teeth grind together loud enough to be audible.
“I fucking hate you, Dazai. Help me put Mori in the ground.”
“Almost, but I think you’re missing the magic word,” Dazai sing-songs, loving every moment of this. Since the whole thing with the Guild is over, he rarely gets to interact with Chuuya anymore, rarely gets to feel that spark of life that Chuuya always ignites within him.
Chuuya growls at him, his lips peeled back from his teeth. Dazai’s smile doesn’t waver, even as his coworkers tense up around him at Chuuya’s obvious hostility.
“Fucking— help me put Mori in the ground, please.” Chuuya glowers at him, one red eyebrow raised, silently asking if that’s good enough.
“Well, all you had to do is ask, Chibi!” Dazai leans back in his desk chair and waves Chuuya to come closer. “Let’s have a looksie at that file, hm?”
“I fucking hate you,” Chuuya emphasizes. Nevertheless, he picks up the manila folder from Ranpo’s desk, stomps over, slams the folder down in front of Dazai, and hops up onto the desk to perch there, his short little legs swinging in the air.
That, apparently, is the last straw for their resident stick-in-the-mud.
“No sitting on the desks!” Kunikida scolds, pointing an accusatory finger at Chuuya. “And Dazai, you are not allowed to take that case without consulting the president! This is a very serious matter, and— ack!” Kunikida wobbles as a red glow surrounds him, forcing him up off the ground. Atsushi jolts forward, scrambling to catch Kunikida’s wrist before the blond can float up too high.
“Piss off,” Chuuya mutters, easily ignoring the panicking detectives around him. The redhead turns to the folder he brought and pulls off the elastics, opening it.
While it is very funny to watch Kunikida flail around midair, and while the opportunity to look at what files Chuuya brought is interesting, there is one thing better.
Dazai brings his hand to Chuuya’s cheek, letting his fingers cup the smooth skin, and hums softly as Chuuya jolts at the soft touch. His blue eyes go wide as he stares at Dazai and takes a full three seconds to flush red and smack Dazai’s hand aside, stammering out insults Dazai easily tunes out. It is much more amusing to watch Chuuya try to compose himself. His pale skin always meant that he blushes very obviously. It’s rather adorable.
However, he did also use his own ability, so Kunikida is back on his own two feet and is clearly unhappy.
“Kunikida,” Dazai drawls, smiling as sweetly as he can. His current partner scowls in response. “How about you go discuss this opportunity with the president, hm? I’m sure you could do a much better job informing him of the events than I.”
At the mild compliment, Kunikida straightens up proudly. “Well, I suppose I have enough time in my schedule to tell the president what a horrible idea this is.”
“Thanks Kunikida!” Dazai calls at the man’s retreating back. The blond man offers no response, save for closing the door to the office with a sharp click, so Dazai takes that as a victory.
“Jeez,” Chuuya sighs, leaning back a little. “I feel for the guy. Being your partner is the most godawful thing there is.”
“Aw, love you too, Chuuya!”
“Wha— I—” Dazai smirks to himself, glad that he managed to draw Chuuya’s blush back to the surface. “Fuck you!”
“Mmh, well I certainly wouldn’t mind,” Dazai drawls, leaning back and letting his eyes swoop over Chuuya’s body more obviously than his usual small glances. “Maybe after the case, yeah? My place is close.”
As expected, Chuuya sputters, blushes some more, and kicks Dazai in the ribs while cussing him out.
Just another normal day, really. Ah, how he missed Chuuya.
Long after most of his coworkers have left the office — after Dazai himself has already left and snuck back in through the window (can’t have Kunikida knowing that Dazai is willing to stay after five) — Dazai finds himself hunched over his desk, skimming the papers Chuuya brought over earlier. Given he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here, the lights are off, but that’s fine. There is enough sunlight left in the evening sky for him to read by, especially since he recognizes most of these files.
Really, he’s only reading the files to see what crimes they back up that Dazai witnessed Mori commit.
For once, Chuuya was smart about this. The papers detail crimes committed through Mori’s more legal operations run through Mori Corps. There is nothing to do with the Port Mafia in here; no one expecting to live long tries to prosecute a Port Mafia member — let alone the boss. Steering clear of mentioning that at all means that their odds of finding someone to prosecute Mori are astronomically higher.
But this is Mori. No matter what, it won’t be easy to pull off.
Which is why Dazai is back at the agency.
He’s dreamt of tearing Mori down a few notches for years. More than a couple times have his dreams carried him to a place where Mori fucks up, Chuuya has enough and leaves the Port Mafia, and they get to be partners again. Dazai will never admit it out loud since the redhead would never let him live it down, but working with Chuuya was… lively. Exhilarating. Satisfying. Whatever the word, working side by side with Chuuya is the only thing Dazai regretted losing when he left the mafia.
A light flicks on, startling him out of his head.
“Knew I’d find you here.” Chuuya smirks at him, the gleam in his eyes silently telling Dazai that the redhead is very proud of himself for managing to startle him. It happens rarely enough that Dazai is willing to let it slide this time.
He scoffs and uses a foot to kick the chair next to him back from the desk, an invitation for the other to sit.
Chuuya flicks the lights back off and comes over to sit in the offered chair.
After a few minutes of silence, of Dazai flipping pages over and humming a mindless tune under his breath, Chuuya breaks the silence.
“Talk to me,” the other orders. It’s a thing they used to do ever since they were sixteen and Chuuya got pissed that Dazai didn’t share his plans. He still doesn’t. Share his plans, that is. Voicing them aloud always meant that there is the possibility for some outside variable to hear and thus be able to counter unexpectedly.
But by voicing all the facts out loud, Chuuya was often able to guess what direction Dazai was trying to go for instead of having to run in blind to things.
Plus it meant the shrimp yelled at him less.
All that to say that it is very easy to slip back into the old routine. To let his mind roll the pieces together and see what fits best. All while Chuuya watches him with calculating eyes of his own, trying to read Dazai’s expression like no one else can.
“This would all hold up in a legal court case,” Dazai starts, flipping the manila folder closed.
“But this isn’t going to be strictly legal case,” Chuuya finishes, sighing. “Yeah, I was worried about that. Dammit.”
Dazai hums, tapping his index finger on top of the folder. “And if we know that Mori won’t play legally, then we can expect that. Count on it, even. If we put pressure on him, he won’t crumble.” Dazai meets Chuuya’s gaze and waits.
A spark ignites deep in blue eyes and a grin explodes across Chuuya’s lips. There it is. “Oh, I get it. We go after Mori by not going after Mori himself.” Dazai claps slowly, a teasing grin falling naturally into place.
“Oh, and it only took the Chibi longer than normal to figure it out. Good thing you got rid of that ugly hat, it really was squishing your brain—”
“Do not,” Chuuya spits, all previous camaraderie gone, “talk about my hat.” Dazai blinks. He wasn’t expecting that response. Usually, Chuuya will snarl some insult or another back at him, not get genuinely mad.
Time to change the topic, then.
“Want to go break into a lab with me? We can trash it as much as we want so long as we get the info I need.”
“Deal.” Chuuya leaps to his feet, already at the office door before Dazai gets out of his seat.
He follows the shrimp, taking care to ruffle Chuuya’s hair as he slips past the shorter man. Chuuya squawks in complaint and Dazai grins in that way that he knows will rile Chuuya up more, but it’s worth being slapped three time on the arm. Chuuya’s hair is as soft as Dazai remembers it to be.
As they walk side by side to their destination, that thing that always felt right clicks into place.
He doesn’t feel it with Kunikida or Atsushi or anyone else. It’s only here when Chuuya is the one at his side, working as his partner, his equal, that Dazai feels truly and undeniably like a real human.
“What on earth did you do?!” Ah, yes. This is exactly what he needs after getting no sleep last night. Thanks, Kunikida, his headache really appreciates all the yelling.
A newspaper is smacked down in front of him, the large, bold headline reading: ‘Mori Corporations Lab Destroyed: Culprits Unknown.’
Dazai looks up from the paper and blinks innocently at the fuming blond man.
“What makes you think I did anything?”
For a single, blessed moment, Kunikida’s brow furrows and he genuinely considers the possibility that it wasn’t Dazai.
Then Chuuya returns with the coffee he promised to buy.
“Hey, asshole, they don’t make whatever the fuck it was you wanted, so I got you a black coffee.”
“What? But Chibi!” Dazai whines. “I don’t like it black!”
“Too bad. It’s got more caffeine; it’ll help you stay awake. We both know you got no sleep last night.”
“What?” That catches Atsushi’s attention. The poor kid is too concerned for his own good. “Dazai, you really should try to get at least a little sleep at night. It’s bad for your health to stay up all night.”
Unable to help it, Dazai opens his mouth. “Ah, yes, but the Chibi kept me occupied all night.” He bites his tongue to stop his feral grin as Atsushi frowns and walks right into the trap.
“Really? What were you two doing?”
“It was a night of long, passionate—” Dazai is cut off by a screech and Chuuya’s hand smacking over his mouth.
For good measure, he licks it. Unfortunately, Chuuya is used to his antics and just glares at him, uncaring for a saliva-ed palm.
“Dazai and I trashed one of Mori’s labs. Took a while to break in, get the whatever on a USB, and sufficiently break everything. Nothing else.” Chuuya levels one warning glance at Dazai before dropping his hand.
Too bad for him that Dazai isn’t exactly good at quitting when he knows how to get under the redhead’s skin.
“Ah, there’s no need for Chibi to be so embarrassed of our love!”
Getting thrown into the wall is so worth seeing the furious blush painting Chuuya’s cheeks.
Throughout the day, Dazai does his best to pretend he is being productive. Kunikida is appreciative of the fact Dazai is actually at his desk and awake, but his other partner is not nearly as appeased.
Just after noon, Chuuya cracks.
“Alright, spit it out, dumbass.” Every single detective currently in the office — minus Kunikida, of course — stops what they are doing to watch the interaction play out. Dazai mentally sneers at them. Gossips, the whole lot.
But Chuuya is glaring at him from the visitor chair Atsushi pulled over, so Dazai has to answer.
He presses a smile to his lips. “Spit what out? I didn’t eat any poison today!”
Though Chuuya rolls his eyes, he is not distracted. Damn, Dazai will need to up his game.
“Why the hell are you just sitting there? You never do your best thinking when you’re sitting still.” At that, even Kunikida looks up from his work.
Dazai just shrugs. “I distract everyone by pacing.” And Kunikida yells at him a lot if he does that.
But Chuuya scoffs, leveling Dazai with a tiny look that brings him right back to their teenage years. “So? You’re always horribly unproductive when trying to be productive.” Chuuya’s little nose scrunches up as he replays his words, unsure if they made sense. Of course they do, the shrimp could never think up something to say that Dazai couldn’t follow.
“What do you mean, Nakahara?” Kunikida props his notebook open, pen at the ready to take notes in case this proves to be fruitful.
“Well, like.” Chuuya falters now that everyone is blatantly waiting for his answer. “Seriously? Did none of you notice?” Dead silence is his response. “Jeez, and here I thought you lot were supposed to be detectives. But yeah,” Chuuya carries on before any of the agents can get upset, “Dazai’s brain is always moving too fast for him to keep it on one thought at a time. He just gets distracted by other things when he tries to focus too hard.”
Suddenly Chuuya snorts and his tone lifts. Dazai’s hackles rise.
“See, back when we were seventeen, he had this dumb rubix cube he’d carry around everywhere—”
“Chuuya!” Dazai wails, leaping to his feet. “No! Don’t betray me like this!” If he had kept his mouth shut, Chuuya might’ve just dropped it. However, if he hadn’t said anything and Chuuya didn’t try to tease him, Dazai wouldn’t get to see the shrimp’s cute, smug I’m-bugging-Dazai smile.
“—And one time he had it out at a meeting with these informants. They thought he was ignoring them by playing with the rubix cube, so they got all mad over it. Then one of them said something about, uh, I don’t remember, but it was useful to the case we were working, and something clicked for him. Dazai slammed the solved rubix cube on the table and leapt to his feet, shouting ‘we’ve rubixed!’ over and over as he ran out of the meeting like a fucking madman. All those informants were too embarrassed to look him in the eye afterwards, they thought the demon prodigy had finally cracked and didn’t want to be killed for witnessing it.” Chuuya chuckles, his eyes gleaming. “It was fucking hilarious.”
Because it’s his cue, Dazai wails dramatically, draping himself over the desk and pouting at Chuuya. “Chibi! So mean!”
“Oh please, Dazai.” Chuuya smirks at him. That smirk does very dangerous things to Dazai’s mental state. He swallows thickly, trying to get his brain on track, but like Chuuya said, Dazai’s mind has always been good at multitasking.
“That was hardly an embarrassing story, it just came to mind. Now if you want really embarrassing ones, I’ve got plenty of those too. Remember that one summer with the fishing boat?”
“Chuuya!” Dazai gasps, a bit of real panic seeping into his tone. “No, please! I’ll— I’ll tell about the time you went undercover at the café!” Chuuya raises an eyebrow and scoffs, so Dazai quickly clarifies. “The maid café!”
The look he gets in response is murderous.
“If you tell that one, I’m telling about the Tokyo incident!”
“No! I’ll tell about the night you got drunk at that mafia party!”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Oh? What’s stopping me?”
“That time I was sick so you had to be the one that dressed up as a woman for the undercover mission in Kyoto.”
Dazai pales and Chuuya tips his head up in victory, smirking.
“Chibi,” he protests weakly.
“I have pictures, Dazai. And a seven-minute video.”
With a final, dramatic wail, Dazai slumps back in his chair, defeated.
Half a heartbeat of silence passes, then Dazai jolts up. “I’ve got a plan,” he announces to his coworkers.
Chuuya smirks, rising to his feet. “About time. You’re getting sloppy working here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Chibi. We ought to get a head start so that those short legs of yours don’t slow us down.”
“Hah?! You wanna say that again, bastard?”
“Aw, is the Chibi upset he hasn’t grown since he was ten?”
Given they are busy squabbling as they walk out of the agency, neither notices how the other detectives watch their interactions, mystified, or how Kunikida scribbles furiously in his notebook. The blond does not understand what the Port Mafia redhead did but knows it somehow corralled Dazai towards the desired goal, something he has been trying to learn how to do for years.
A week later, after Dazai has already begun slipping information to the needed sources, he gets the awaited phone call.
Tapping the green button to answer, Dazai leans back in his chair, kicks his feet up on his desk, and grins at Kunikida’s glower.
“Hello Chibi! I was wondering when you were going to miss me enough to call.”
“Yeah, hi. I— What? Oh, fuck off, Dazai. You know exactly why I called.” Even through the phone, Dazai can see the angry purse of Chuuya’s pretty lips.
“Indeed.” Dazai hums. “Awfully unprofessional of you to try for a booty call during work hours, Chibi.” Given his statement makes both Chuuya and the eavesdropping Kunikida sputter, it is well worth saying.
“WHAT?!” Dazai tips the phone away from his ear so Chuuya’s screeching can’t ruin his hearing.
As his coworkers are blatantly watching him, judgement clear in their gazes, Dazai chuckles. He uses his free hand to point to the phone, where Chuuya’s hollering is coming through loud enough to be deciphered if one cared to do so.
“Needy,” Dazai says solemnly, doing his best to keep a straight face. Most of his coworkers roll their eyes and go back to ignoring him, but that vein in Kunikida’s forehead is visible enough that Dazai deems his job well done.
He brings the phone back to his ear. “Now, Chibi, did you have something to say or did you plan to bark the whole time?”
“I— you know what? Fine. I’m not going to say it anymore. You probably know why I called anyway. So, if you want to not be an ass and still help me with this, then get over here, Osamu.”
Distantly, Dazai recognizes the click as Chuuya hangs up on him.
Distantly, he can hear Atsushi asking if he is okay.
Distantly, Dazai acknowledges that he must look like a complete fool right now, what with his gaping mouth and flustered, red cheeks.
However, he is much too occupied with replaying the way his name rolled off Chuuya’s tongue. The way Chuuya said it was purposeful, like he knew exactly how much it would affect Dazai and was waiting for an opportune moment to use it like the weapon it is in Chuuya’s hands.
“I have to go.” Dazai mumbles, scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the office. His shoulder clips the doorframe on the way and Kunikida yells something after him, but all of that is second to his sudden, irrational desire to get to Chuuya immediately.
By the time Dazai arrives at the Port Mafia headquarters, he is more composed. The fresh air and steady breeze helped to clear his head, so he is nearly back to his usual self.
Until his brain replays Chuuya saying Dazai’s given name, then he’s back to being flustered for a split second before he can get himself under control.
Dammit, Chuuya definitely won that round.
Given he doesn’t particularly care if Mori knows he is here, Dazai enters through the front doors. None of the stationed guards make a move to stop him, so he gives them a lazy wave and saunters by, stepping into the elevator that’ll take him to Mori’s office. Is it risky to take an elevator when in an enemy’s territory? Sure. But there are a hell of a lot of stairs to reach Mori’s office, and Dazai is lazy.
Though the elevator music is boring and dull enough that Dazai is starting to wish he had taken the stairs.
Thankfully it is not a super long ride up, and the doors open to let Dazai out. He exits, patters across the floor — doing his best to leave mud splattered on the pristine marble — and throws the double doors leading to Mori’s office wide open.
“I’m here!” He announces, a smile coming easily to his lips as he spies Chuuya already standing across from Mori, who is seated at his desk. “Did Chibi miss me too much?”
“Fuck no,” Chuuya replies immediately. The shine in his eyes says otherwise, but this time, given their current audience, Dazai refrains from commenting.
Said audience clears his throat. “Dazai. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Yeah, yeah. The pleasure’s all yours.” Dazai smirks at the nearly invisible twitch of Mori’s left eye.
“I am quite surprised to see you here,” Mori continues, pretending Dazai hadn’t said anything. “And Chuuya does not seem surprised to see you. If this is your official return to the mafia, I will gladly accept.”
Dazai laughs. Mori’s smug smirk crumbles.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dazai grins. “But no. I’m here for something even better: your resignation.”
“My—?”
“Chibi!” Dazai snaps his fingers, spinning to face Chuuya. He gets a brief scowl for the loving nickname, then Chuuya withdraws the huge manila folder and slams it down hard enough Mori’s desk shudders from the weight.
“This,” Dazai sets to explaining before Mori can get a word in, “is a bunch of evidence neither of us cares about.” There’s a puzzled look in Mori’s normally blank eyes. “But I guarantee the police will care about it, especially after they find the part about the blueprints for your labs. About how there was a section you knew was weak and could pose a danger to workers by crumbling and having the roof come down on them but chose to leave it anyway.” Dazai tsks. “That’s awfully inconsiderate of your employees, you know.”
“What are you talking about? There are no such errors in my buildings.”
“There are now.” Chuuya grins. The shrimp had way too much way carving out chunks of the walls and support beams in each of Mori’s labs over the past week to make such structural errors present.
“Indeed,” Dazai continues. “And you can’t afford to have something like that come up right now, can you? Not when your business is already losing credibility. My, it’s a wonder what a few tips to reputable journal articles can do.”
“You—” Mori cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. “Well played. I figured there was something going on when rumors regarding my business started gaining traction in the news but didn’t think the two of you would collaborate for something such as this. What brought this on?”
A great question. Dazai tips his gaze to Chuuya, not knowing the answer himself.
“I trusted you!” Chuuya hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at Mori. “And you betrayed me!”
“Chuuya, what are you talking about?”
Dazai lets his eyes flick between his old partner and ex-boss. Chuuya being pissed off isn’t anything new, but Mori’s confusion is delightful.
“My hat!” Chuuya shrieks.
“What?” Mori sounds exhausted. Dazai raises an eyebrow. Seriously? How on earth is this about that stupid hat?
“You borrowed it for a meeting and lost it!”
“Oh, that. Chuuya, I already promised that I would buy you a new hat.”
Chuuya’s foot stomps on the ground, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. Except his foot is lit up red, and the floor cracks beneath him. “No! I don’t want a new hat, I want my hat!”
Unable to stop it, Dazai snorts. It’s a small laugh, but as Chuuya whirls on him, fury on his face, that one snort turning into loud, heaving cackles.
“What, you think this is funny?!”
Dazai is a smart man. He knows how to respond in a way that would appease Chuuya and thus remove any potential harm from befalling him.
But, since this is Chuuya they are talking about, Dazai is also a bit of an idiot.
“Well, yes.” Dazai ducks as Chuuya’s fist lashes out at his head. “Woah! Calm down, Chibi.”
“I AM CALM!”
Dazai bites his tongue to stifle another laugh at the redhead’s expense.
“Chuuya.” Mori sighs, rubbing at his temples. “You honestly collaborated with Dazai to get me to resign because I misplaced your hat?”
“Yes. Now sign the papers.” Chuuya slaps the resignation papers down on the desk. Mori eyes them, opens his mouth—
“Sign the fucking papers, Mori.” Red flares around Chuuya as he leans over the man’s desk, getting close enough that the air around the man hums with the threat of gravity.
After a moment’s hesitation, and a small glance in Dazai’s direction, Mori signs the papers, relinquishing his claim to the Port Mafia and leaving everything to Chuuya.
A week later, Dazai finds himself in a meeting between the Port Mafia and a bunch of upstart gangs trying to get a foothold in the city.
At the front of the gathered crowd, ignoring the tension between the young gangs, Chuuya paces back and forth. He looks professional enough, what with his dark clothes and wine-red shirt, his usual gloves and choker present, but then he opens his mouth and ruins the illusion of being the tough Port Mafia Boss.
“Do you know why you are all here?” It’s soft, almost dangerously so. No one answers. Dazai rolls his eyes at the dramatics of this whole situation. Chuuya didn’t listen to his plan and is now here, doing this.
Of course, Dazai still put his own plan into action.
They’ll see who’s proves more fruitful.
“You are here today for one single purpose. Whoever accomplishes that goal will be welcome to negotiate further terms with the Port Mafia. Now—”
Dazai’s phone buzzes, and he takes a quick peek at the message.
“Chibi!” he calls, waving to get Chuuya’s attention. “Someone replied to my ad. They’ve got your hat at their flower shop.”
“Really?” Chuuya perks up, a week’s worth of tension draining away. “Cool. Let’s go.” The redhead scampers over and grabs Dazai’s hand, dragging him out of the meeting.
Then he pauses in the doorway, glancing back at the gang members watching them.
“Oh, yeah. Well, we found my hat, so the search party doesn’t need to get put together anymore. So, yeah. Get the hell off the Port Mafia’s territory.”
Dazai gives the bewildered gang members a tiny, teasing wave as Chuuya drags him off once again.
It ends up being a very good thing Ranpo found Chuuya’s hat and gave it to a nearby flower shop owner, because Chuuya does actually likes the bouquet of lilies Dazai (shyly) buys for him. Of course, that could be a consequence of being happy to have his stupid hat back, but a few days later, when Dazai breaks into Chuuya’s apartment to pay the redhead a visit, the lilies are sitting in a vase in the centre of the shrimp’s table.