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Chuuya knows that his life isn’t exactly what one would consider normal. He is too aware of that fact and has only made it as far as he has these last few years because he trusts himself.
However, when a guy walks into his library first thing on a Monday morning and all Chuuya’s instincts flare in alarm, screaming ‘danger’ in bold, flashing lights, he doesn’t take it seriously.
Why?
Well, simply put, he’s in a damn library. It’s his library, he’s been here everyday for over two years, and there is zero reason for anyone dangerous to be in a library — himself excluded, obviously — unless they’re goons being sent to collect protection money, but this guy is clearly not goon material. Nor does Chuuya pay into any protection brackets; he can take care of himself.
The next reason is that the guy in question simply does not look all that scary. Sure, he’s got a long black coat and some wonky bandages wrapped around his face, but who is Chuuya to judge? He gets all kinds of people in here, so cosplayers are not that out of the ordinary.
Finally, the last reason is that the guy is on his phone and, given the way he’s clearly being berated and is whining, Chuuya just can’t picture him being all that deadly.
So, he shoves his gut warning aside and smiles at the other man in greeting.
The man’s visible hazel eye gleams upon spotting Chuuya, and he comes over.
“—No, no, Oda! You know me, I would never blow a meeting without a good excuse! I got caught up in a very important discussion with my good friend—” The man squints at Chuuya’s poorly handmade nametag “—Chuuya that simply could not be rescheduled.” The man places his hand over the receiver on his phone and drops his voice to a whisper: “Where am I right now?”
“Suribachi City Library,” Chuuya supplies.
“Yes, Oda, super important business at the library—” The man freezes, his visible eye going wide.
Abruptly, he rips the phone away from his ear and hangs up. “Dammit,” the man groans, pocketing his phone.
“Something wrong?” Chuuya asks, kind of curious to know what sort of businessman tries to get out of a meeting by hiding in a random building; it’s quite obvious that the other did not know this was a library when he walked in.
“Yes,” the man grumbles, coming closer and collapsing dramatically into the chair next to the check-out counter that Chuuya’s own desk resides behind. “Why’d this place have to be a library?! Now Oda is going to know I was lying about having somewhere to be.”
“I take it you don’t frequent libraries often?” Chuuya muses, resting his elbow on his desk’s surface and his chin in his palm.
“Never.” The man admits. “And Oda is the one that likes books, so he’s well aware that I’d rather be doing just about anything other than reading.”
“I mean, I’ve got a tiny selection of magazines if that’s more your style.” Chuuya offers. This is hardly the first person he’s met that isn’t fond of books. “And if you go to the Yokohama Public Library, they’ve got audio books, e-readers, movies, and all sorts of fancy stuff.”
The man sighs some more. “No offense, but unless one of those can help me with my current issue, then it’s just a waste of my time.”
“Suit yourself,” Chuuya shrugs. It doesn’t affect him any if this dude doesn’t like books.
But, for some reason, that makes the man sit up straight and squint at him.
“…What?” Chuuya asks once he’s been stared at long enough it’s weird.
“Aren’t librarians supposed to encourage people to read?” A valid question.
“Eh, sure. But this is Suribachi City, man. I’ve hardly got enough books for the people that do want to read them, so I’m not going to force people that can’t be bothered to try something they’ll hate on principal and therefore never return.” Chuuya shrugs. “I’d run out of books way too quickly.”
The man nods, a few strands of messy brown hair flopping over the bandage covering his right eye. “That makes sense. This place is kind of tiny.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya agrees. “But it works.” People — kids — know they can come here and be safe, they can check books out to keep practicing when reading the younger ones bedtime stories or whatnot, and, for a few hours anyway, they don’t need to worry about everything else. Chuuya can’t provide food or a place to stay permanently for all the kids that stop in regularly, but he can make a safe space. So he did. As long as he doesn’t catch the wrong sort of attention, then it’s fine.
The man hums, nodding like he understands what Chuuya left unsaid. Perhaps he does; there are not too many who come to Suribachi to sightsee, after all.
“Well,” the man sighs, sinking into the check-out counter chair, “I really don’t want to go to my meeting. Can we pretend to be talking about something really important so I’ve got a good excuse to skip?”
Chuuya snorts but does rise from his own chair behind his desk and wanders up to the counter, leaning his weight on his elbows.
“Sure. I’m Chuuya.” Even though the other man has seen his nametag, it is still polite to introduce himself.
“Dazai,” the other offers. “So, Chuuya, tell me about something important.” The words are drawled, lazy, and teasing.
Naturally, given it is a Monday morning and Chuuya is very tired from the weekend — more patrons show up on the weekends — Chuuya is fully willing to complain about his small, library problems to the rich-looking businessman.
“Well,” Chuuya starts, “I had two teens get in a fight yesterday and still haven’t cleaned all the blood off the table.” Chuuya points across the small room. In between the three four-shelf bookshelves (one against the far wall, so currently facing Chuuya, one on the wall opposite the door that is to Chuuya’s left, and the final one sitting to the right of the check-out counter), there lies a single circular table with eight plastic school chairs around it. On said table is a dark splatter of blood that did not want to come out yesterday.
“And since they got in a fight, I had to mediate and get them to talk it out, but teenagers are always so prickly about their feelings and don’t want to say anything, even if whatever they’re mad about is just misunderstandings that could be cleared up so easily.”
Ah, I get that.” Dazai nods. “I have two subor— colleagues that are younger than myself and tend to not get along. Oda says they’re competing for my attention, but that’s just ridiculous. I treat all Atsushis and non-Atsushis the same.”
Chuuya raises an eyebrow.
Dazai grins back. “Relax, I’m just kidding. Akutagawa was around first, so my bet is that he feels threatened by Atsushi, but I don’t really know how to deal with that, so I’m going to ignore it and wait for them to sort it out themselves.”
“…Seriously?”
“Yep! It’ll work out, and, if it doesn’t, then I’ll— ahem. Anyway, it’ll work out.”
“Well,” Chuuya sighs, “I guess if you ever need somewhere to get them to sit down and talk it out, my table is already stained, so you’re welcome around here.”
“Ooh!” Dazai gasps, his eye sparkling teasingly. “Chuuya is already inviting me back for a second date, how forward!”
Chuuya raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Dude, how is this a date?”
“We’re both in the same place and you’re willingly talking to me!”
…Wow, okay, that is kind of sad. Has Chuuya been on any dates ever? No. But he has read about them a lot and knows that simply talking to someone, offering them an ear if they want to share something too, does not constitute a date. Rather, that’s simply what any decent person should do.
“Okay, so this is not a date. First, it’s my job to be here. Second, talking is just two people being nice to each other.”
Dazai shrugs. “Sounds like a date to me.” That teasing sparkle is still present in his visible hazel eye, so Chuuya rolls his own eyes and doesn’t let himself get goaded further into the teasing.
“Whatever. Uh, let me think of something else that’s library-important; we’re getting you out of that meeting, yeah?”
“Please.” Dazai groans, twisting around to fold his arms on the counter and rest his chin on the folded limbs. “This is a dreadful one too, I hate dealing with Ace. I wish Oda could just do it, but Ace is a prickly little bitch and only wants to talk to the bo— to me.”
“Mhm. Well, I guess I’m always worried I’ll run out of books. I don’t have a large collection and there are never enough picture books to go around.” Chuuya sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “And since I only make money if people donate, which almost no one can afford to do, I don’t exactly have the funds to go buy more…” Chuuya trails off, realizing he’s complaining about money to a guy that’s dripping in wealth — the crisp name-brand suit and shiny watch prove that at a glance. “Er, never mind.” He wracks his brain trying to come up with something else to talk about.
“I’m trying to figure out how to kickstart a reading club for kids?” Chuuya offers. “Like, a place where they can come to learn how to read, or help teach others how to read, and whatnot. The regulars around here kind of do that already, but it would be nice to get some from other groups here too. Might help build relationships so that things are less tense.”
Dazai considers that a moment. “You really think reading clubs could help Suribachi’s gangs mellow out?”
“Who knows. But anything is worth a try.” Too many kids get dragged into gangs far too young around here. Maybe, if someone offers them a shot at something else, they’ll take it.
“Interesting. Not many people would try what you’re attempting, Chuuya. It’s dangerous to go poking at gangs, even if the local ones are small.”
Chuuya’s grin is a sharp one. “Thanks for the warning, Dazai, but I can handle myself just fine.”
“Oh?” Dazai’s spine straightens as the man gives Chuuya his full attention. “What makes you so confident? I know a great many people, and— herm. They are bad examples, actually, since many of them could theoretically take on a gang here and there and come out of it as the winning party. Anyway, what makes you so confident in yourself?”
Well, there’s the fact that Chuuya is a monster hiding in human skin, but that’s not exactly something he wants widely known.
“I can fight,” Chuuya offers instead, since that is also true. Perhaps more applicable in this situation too, since the fights he has dealt with have all been handled without the use of his ability. He’d like to keep things that way if possible — it’s only been two years, so he’s certain the government is keeping an eye out for abilities that match his own. Profiles too, but, thankfully, no one comes to Suribachi City with the intent of making a name for themselves.
Speaking of which…
“Hey, why are you all the way out here anyway?” Chuuya asks. “Shouldn’t you be over in Yokohama?”
“Yeah,” Dazai agrees. “But, like I said earlier, I’m ditching an annoying meeting. So, since I really don’t want to go to this one, I had to expand outside of my normal ditching-work spots since Oda would know to check those. Suribachi is not somewhere anyone would think to look for me, so here I am.”
Now it’s Chuuya turn to be skeptical. “And how are you so confident that you won’t get mugged or something? You seem perfectly aware of the fact that there are gangs around here.”
Dazai grins. The grin is all teeth, but doesn’t ignite any sense of danger, so Chuuya doesn’t react beyond tipping his head, curious to hear the answer to his question.
“Well, I could tell you about how I plotted my path here around researched gang hotspots for today’s date, time, and season, or I can just tell you that I have a gun.”
“Fair enough,” Chuuya snorts. “Please don’t draw or shoot it in here, there are usually kids around.”
“Sure.” Dazai shrugs easily. “I can manage that.”
Chuuya opens his mouth to continue conversation but is cut off as the door swings open.
Three teens walk in, chatting easily amongst themselves.
“Hey, good morning!” Chuuya calls out, waving to the teens. As one, Yuan, Shirase, and Theo turn his way and offer greetings of their own. Shirase’s nose is still swollen and Theo’s knuckles are still red, but given they’re talking again, yesterday’s fight has been forgiven.
The teens make their way to the table, claiming their usual seats, so Chuuya turns back to Dazai—
The businessman is gone.
Chuuya blinks and glances around, but the man has simply vanished.
“Oh well.” Either the guy will be back to talk again sometime or he won’t, simple as that.
Instead of dwelling on it, Chuuya grabs the armful of books he picked out on Saturday and was planning to show the teens yesterday, but had to postpone thanks to their dramatics.
“Hey,” Chuuya greets again as he marches over to the table and sets down the stack of books in his arms. “I found a bunch of school workbooks if you want to have a look at any of these.”
“Thanks, Chuuya!” Yuan smiles warmly, tugging the books towards herself to peek at the titles, while Theo and Shirase glare at the books as if school is something dangerous that will leap out of the pages and attack them.
“No problem,” Chuuya replies. “Let me know if there’s anything else you’re looking for.”
“We will!”
Leaving the teens be, Chuuya retreats to his desk, pulling out the stack of papers sitting in his desk drawer. He’s not confident that the government will allot any grant funding to a tiny library in Suribachi City, but he can at least fill out the forms with his fake credentials and give them the option to say no.
The week passes quickly with little to note — exactly as Chuuya likes it. Peaceful and quiet. No pesky government goons sniffing his way.
So, it is a bit of a shock to come down the stairs connecting his loft to the library and to find someone sitting behind his desk.
Chuuya’s immediate instinct is to panic and assume the worst, assume that the figure hiding their features in the shadows is the man Chuuya knows all too well from being stared at through a glass cage for twenty years—
Then the uninvited guest speaks up.
“Chuuya, I think you shrunk since I last saw you. Or maybe it’s just that you’re standing up and I can see you better?”
…It’s not N.
Chuuya’s shoulders relax, the grip he had on his ability loosening.
“Oh, it’s you. Hey.” Chuuya waves to Dazai, the businessman he met last week. “Not to be rude, but how did you get in?”
“You need to invest in better locks if you don’t want people breaking in, Chibi.”
“I don’t think I can afford better locks, but thanks— What did you just call me?” Chuuya stares, flabbergasted, and awaits an explanation cause he is certain he heard wrong.
“I called you a chibi.” Dazai shrugs. “I told you that you look short today.”
Chuuya takes a long deep breath to prevent himself from leveling his library. He loves his library and is not inclined to destroy it.
“I am a perfectly average height.” Chuuya finally manages. “So, kindly refrain from—”
In the blink of an eye, Dazai is suddenly right in front of him.
Chuuya stumbles back a step, scowling at the other man.
His scowl deepens when Dazai places his hand on his own forehead, then slowly brings it through the air horizontally until it is hovering over Chuuya’s head. There is over half a foot separating the top of Chuuya’s head from Dazai’s hand.
“Hm. Not sure what the average chibi height is, but for regular people, you are short.” There is a smug smirk on the taller man’s lips that Chuuya would love to knock off. So, Chuuya kicks Dazai’s shin.
“Ow!” Dazai whines, bending over to clutch his lower leg. He pouts up at Chuuya, his visible eye wide and gleaming with amusement. “I didn’t realize chibis were so mean!”
Just for that, Chuuya kicks the other shin too.
Dazai wails dramatically, the laughter in his eye informing Chuuya that the other is not actually injured — of course not, Chuuya held back enough to not hurt the guy, even if he does look like a scrawny beanpole under that heavy black coat.
“So, what brings you back today?” Chuuya asks as he heads over to check on his door. Strangely enough, the lock does not show any sign of being tampered with. Oh well. At least Chuuya doesn’t need to buy replacement locks since Dazai didn’t break anything. “Got another meeting?”
“Even worse,” Dazai groans, pattering back over to Chuuya’s desk and plopping down in Chuuya’s chair like he owns the place. “Oda wants to force a cruel and unusual punishment upon me.”
“Oh?” Chuuya raises an eyebrow.
“He’s trying to force me to go shopping.” Dazai reveals in a solemn tone. “Apparently wearing the same clothes everyday since I was eighteen isn’t allowed anymore.”
Chuuya squints, trying to tell if the guy is lying or not.
“Don’t worry, Chuuya. I wash myself and my clothes every few days, so they won’t stink up your little library.”
“That was not my concern, but okay.” Chuuya bites his lip. They’ve only met twice and are basically strangers, so sharing his opinion is probably overstepping, but if Dazai didn’t want Chuuya’s opinion, then he should break into some other library.
“You could just go shopping.” Chuuya says. “You’d look good in colors other than black, you know.”
Dazai freezes up and his face goes eerily blank.
Then, just as Chuuya is worried he really did overstep, Dazai breaks into a shit-eating grin.
“Ohho? Is Chibi admitting that he has fallen for my devilishly good looks? Just saying, you were the one that wanted a strictly business relationship last time, so don’t go falling in love with me this early in the game, Chuuya, that would make things too easy!”
“You are ridiculous.” Chuuya grumbles, rolling his eyes. He joins Dazai on the desk-side of the counter and grabs the handle of the rickety cart he found in a dump when first opening the library. On it sits a small pile of book that were returned over the week and are ready to go back to their place on the shelves.
“Chuuya,” Dazai whines as Chuuya starts walking away with the cart, “where are you going? I thought we were having our second date!”
“This also doesn’t count as a date,” Chuuya replies immediately. “Dates do not happen at someone’s workplace. I think.” He shakes his head before he can second-guess himself too much. “In case you didn’t notice, Dazai, I do actually work here and have stuff to do. Feel free to stick around if you want, but I’d totally be going shopping if I were in your shoes.”
“Oh? And what would Chibi buy?”
Imagining all the possibilities means that Chuuya is distracted enough to let Dazai get away with calling him that stupid nickname.
“I dunno. Some nice vests, maybe?” Chuuya glances down at himself, taking in the ratty green knit long-sleeve and faded jeans he got for free from a second-hand store (Chuuya did not steal them, the lady working there was kind and gave them away). “Nice pants too, I guess. And I’ve always wanted a pair of leather gloves.” Chuuya trails off as his comment encourages Dazai to look at Chuuya’s hands where they are gripping the handle of his book cart.
Thin, ugly scars mar the skin. Chuuya fights to hold still and pretend that Dazai’s curious gaze doesn’t bug him, to pretend that the question that always comes next won’t hurt. Because when people notice the scars, they always ask. They don’t really want to know, don’t want to hear the horrors Chuuya went through in that damned lab all for the name of science, but they ask anyway because humans are curious creatures; curiosity is both their greatest asset and worst shortcoming.
“Gloves would be all stuffy,” Dazai comments. “I don’t know how I’d ever do a report ever again with gloves limiting the movement of my fingers— oh! Oh, Chuuya, that is a great idea! I’ll get Oda to buy me gloves and then super-glue them on so that I can’t write reports anymore! Isn’t it a great idea?” Dazai beams his way, seemingly ignorant of the way Chuuya is staring, his lips parted in shock.
Dazai didn’t ask.
“Um. Yeah—” Chuuya pauses as he realizes what, exactly Dazai is talking about. “Wait, no! Don’t super-glue things to your hand! That is a horrible plan.”
“That’s what you think.” Like the children that come in throughout the day, Dazai sticks his tongue out.
Chuuya laughs, amused at the other’s antics. “Yeah, sure. I’m gonna shelve these now.”
“Fiiiine. I guess if you have to, you can go ahead.”
“Wasn’t asking for your permission, but thanks.” Chuckling to himself, Chuuya heads off and starts putting books back in their places. Picture books slide into the dwindling stock, graphic novels are carefully stacked next to each other, novels and non-fictions are reorganized and pulled flush to the edge of the shelf to look better, and magazines are shuffled through to pull the latest editions to the top of the stacks.
By the time Chuuya is done and he glances back to the desk, Dazai is gone.
The next morning, Chuuya finds a single pair of crisp black leather gloves sitting on his desk. They fit perfectly.
Chuuya stares at the two groups of teenagers facing off in the middle of his library and sighs. It’s only Thursday and, unless he steps in quickly, there will be new bloodstains on his floor.
“Hey, that’s enough, guys.” Standing, Chuuya tugs at the cuffs of his gloves to pull them tight and marches around the counter, planting himself in between the two groups.
“Outta the way, man.” Shirase growls. The boy’s eyes are narrowed and his lips pulled back to show his teeth as he glares at the other group. “They’re part of the Jaguars; they’ve been poaching Sheep territory for far too long!” The five at Shirase’s back nod along.
“It’s amusing that you Sheep think you have territory around here,” one of the Jaguars sneers. The six others standing behind the speaker laugh.
Chuuya sighs, rubbing his temples. “Look, fellas, do what you want outside, but in here we’re all equals. So, back off and calm down; let’s all take a breather.”
“This ain’t a damn yoga session, Shortie.” The Jaguar sneers.
Chuuya’s eye twitches. He takes a long breath through his nose, resisting the urge to lash out at the insult to his height.
“Hey! Don’t be rude to Chuuya!” Shirase snaps, puffing up like an angry bird.
“Oh? What are you gonna do about it, Lamb?”
Shirase’s fist is throw at the same time as the Jaguar lashes out with a sweeping kick. Chuuya grabs both extended limbs in mid air and shoves, throwing each kid back, off balance. The Jaguar lands on their butt, scowling, and Shirase trips over his own feet before tumbling to the ground too.
Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow. “You two gonna sit down and talk things out now?”
Shirase and the Sheep, well used to Chuuya’s method of conflict resolution, pout and sigh, but nod their consent.
The Jaguars, new to the library, take some more convincing.
In the end, Chuuya gets everyone sitting down in a circle on the floor, all holding the hand of the person next to them on either side. Shirase and the Jaguar — Luca, Chuuya quickly learns — are red-faced and keep shooting each other scathing looks, but neither wants to be the one to drop the other’s hand and admit defeat first.
Going around the circle and convincing each kid to say their name, favourite activity, and favourite book is a little time consuming, but Chuuya has time to spare.
It’s well worth it to see the look on both their faces when Shirase and Luca realize they share the same favourite book and reluctantly begin a conversation about it.
Once their leaders are speaking somewhat amicably to each other, the rest gradually mix together and chat. As he heads back to his desk, Chuuya’s lips quirk up: once they leave here, the two groups will split apart again, but by being here and interacting, they are humanizing each other and proving that they can work together and don’t need to be enemies.
It’s a hopeful goal, but maybe it is possible to bring these kids together.
If nothing else, Chuuya might as well try to make some good in the world before his time here runs out.
Monday rolls around and, as Chuuya is just settling in at his desk, grabbing the paperwork he needs to read today, the door is flung open.
Having not yet unlocked said door, Chuuya raises an eyebrow. He isn’t shocked to find Dazai beaming back at him, but he is surprised to find the other clad in a navy turtleneck and a pair of black slacks, along with his regular bandages, instead of that heavy black coat.
“Chuuya!” Dazai greets, pattering right up and hopping onto the corner of Chuuya’s desk. “Did you miss me?”
Chuuya hums but doesn’t say anything. “The blue looks nice,” he comments instead, setting down the papers he was reading.
Dazai’s smile widens, then his eye pauses on Chuuya’s hands, clad in the leather gloves.
“You’re wearing them!” Dazai exclaims gleefully, clasping his hands together happily. “Do they fit okay? I can buy another pair if these ones aren’t good quality; I wasn’t exactly sure what was good when it came to leather, even though Oda assured me these were the best the store had to offer—”
“Dazai,” Chuuya interrupts. “I love them. Thank you for the gift.”
Dazai’s smile grows softer. It’s a nice smile. “Chuuya, I—”
Someone bangs on the door. “DAZAI OSAMU! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”
A scowl twists Dazai’s lips. “Stupid Hirotsu must’ve sold me out,” Dazai grumbles. “I’ll be right back, Chibi.”
Dazai prowls over to the library door and wrenches it open, glaring at the tall blond man on the other side.
“Doppo Kunikida, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Dazai’s voice drips with a malice that Chuuya wasn’t expecting to hear. The dark, angry words sound wrong coming from the normally cheerful man.
“Dazai, I informed you that we were meeting this morning. You cannot refuse such demands given our circumstances.”
Chuuya’s eyes narrow.
“Yeah, well I don’t want to talk to you right now, so come back another time. Or better yet, never.”
The blond’s scowl deepens and he grabs Dazai’s arm. “Dazai—”
“Excuse me,” Chuuya interrupts, stepping up next to Dazai. He wraps an arm around the taller man’s waist and tugs Dazai into his side. Dazai goes stiff, then quickly melts into the touch, pressing into Chuuya’s hold. The blond’s eyes narrow behind his glasses at the action, so Chuuya glares right back.
“I think Dazai was quite clear in telling you to leave,” Chuuya continues. “So, get outta here.”
Blondie scoffs. “Dazai, this is ridiculous behaviour, even for you. Come on, you’re ruining my schedule.” The man reaches to grab Dazai’s arm again.
Chuuya smacks the man’s hand aside before it can make contact.
“Get lost,” Chuuya growls. “My boyfriend wants nothing to do with you.”
Blondie’s jaw drops and Chuuya fights back a smirk in favour of continuing to glare at the guy.
“I— I see.” Blondie splutters. “I need to get back— to report—” The guy whirls around and scampers away, muttering to himself and pulling out a notebook to write something down in.
Once the guy is gone, Chuuya drops the arm that is around Dazia’s waist and tugs the brown-haired man firmly inside the library, clicking the door shut.
“Sorry,” Chuuya apologizes immediately. Dazai’s dazed expression turns to a confused one. “I just, uh, your ex seemed like an asshole and I didn’t know what to say, so I kinda panicked, but like if he ever tries to ambush you like that again I am happy to continue pretending to be your boyfriend if it keeps that guy away—”
“Chuuya.” Chuuya snaps his mouth shut and waits for Dazai’s words, unsure why the guy sounds so amused. “Kunikida is the owner of a business in competition with my own. We were supposed to have a meeting this morning, but I skipped it cause I would rather come visit you than deal with Kunikida’s jabbering. He is not my ex-boyfriend.” Dazai pauses. “I don’t have any exs for you to be wary of but thank you for the concern.”
“Oh.” Chuuya’s response is beyond weak. His ears tint pink and he averts his gaze. “Um. Sorry?” He offers again.
“Hmm, I didn’t mind.” Dazai comments idly. “I quite like the sound of being Chuuya’s boyfriend.”
“Shut up,” Chuuya grumbles, scowling at the floor. “Don’t tease like that.” If Dazai knew what he was, he would never want to be Chuuya’s anything. That’s just the truth, plain and simple, that he’s known since he was old enough to understand what love meant.
“But it’s true!” Dazai whines in a higher pitch than normal. “I would be a great boyfriend! I would buy you all kinds of books and clothes and fancy things that I don’t even know what they are but that you would like. We could go on non-workplace dates like you want and—”
“Dazai,” Chuuya sighs, “you can stop. I get you’re trying to make me feel better for my blunder just now, but it’s okay. Blondie isn’t your ex, I get it.” After a moment’s consideration, Chuuya adds: “You should probably do that meeting, actually. If it’s important business things.”
Dazai makes a face that is a strange mixture of annoyed and resigned. “The chibi makes a good point, unfortunately. I probably should make sure Kunikida’s people aren’t flying too far off the rails yet. Ah, we’re doing a joint project of sorts, working against another large company, and I don’t want them to mess it up for my people.”
“Okay.”
There is a moment of awkward silence where Chuuya isn’t sure if he should speak up since it seems like Dazai might, but then neither of them say anything and they just stare at each other.
“Right.” Chuuya clears his throat and tears his gaze away first. “Um, bye. See you next week?”
Dazai gives a small nod. “Sure. Until next week, Chuuya.” The man ambles off, only to pause in the doorway and twist back to glance at Chuuya one last time. He squints and taps his chin thoughtfully, then faces forwards again and exits the library.
Chuuya sits down at his desk and lets his forehead thump down onto the surface, groaning.
What a mess he made of that whole interaction.
Hopefully Dazai doesn’t hate him now — he was kind of getting used to the businessman’s Monday visits.
The next day a cheery teen Chuuya doesn’t recognize skips into the library around ten.
“Good morning!” The blond teen greets cheerfully, waving enthusiastically. “I’m Kenji! It’s nice to meet you, Mister!”
“Hey there. I’m Chuuya.” Chuuya isn’t sure what group the kid belongs to: a straw hat and those overalls are not regular Suribachi City style. “Feel free to have a look around, kid, and let me know if you’re looking for something specific.”
“Okay! Thanks, Mister!”
Chuuya leave the new kid to it. Kenji is not shy about wandering around and exploring the small room. He plants his head next to the walls to peer behind the bookshelves, examines the knickknacks — mostly handmade things the regulars have made over the years — sitting on the top rows of said shelves between stacked books, and stares at the bloodstains on the table and floor.
Nearly an hour passes with Kenji carefully scoping the place out, then the regular crew of Sheep and Jaguars show up. Once those teens start trickling in, Kenji offers Chuuya a polite smile and wave and heads out. Chuuya waves back. Hopefully the kid will come again sometime.
To Chuuya’s surprise, Kenji does return the next day, and he comes with a second teen: a red-haired boy that seems a little older but twice as skittish.
They both wave — Kenji with more enthusiasm than his companion — and immediately head over to the books.
Content to let them be, Chuuya goes back to reading over the government funding form he finally got back. To little surprise, the government was not willing to offer any money to ‘Ms. Kiyo’s’ Suribachi City Library.
With a sigh, Chuuya tears the forms in his hands apart, shredding them and tossing them in the small bin near his feet for recycling.
Deciding that is enough responsible work for today, Chuuya stands up with the intent of helping the two newcomers settle in and find a few things they might be interested in reading.
However, when he looks around the library, the kids are gone. Chuuya’s lips twist down in a frown. They are no where to be seen and he didn’t hear the door open—
The smaller door tucked into the back corner with a very clear ‘off limits’ sign that leads up to Chuuya’s loft is slightly ajar. He always closes it when he comes down in the morning.
With a sigh, Chuuya heads over and climbs up the rickety staircase himself, not surprised when he finds the two boys snooping around.
“—I’m telling you, Kenji, there’s something off about him! He freaks me out.”
“I think he’s nice. He has a friendly smile.”
“You think everyone is nice!”
“Ahem.” Chuuya smirks as the two boys freeze and slowly turn to face him. Kenji offers a smile, setting down Chuuya’s nearly full journal, and the redhead stands from where he was riffling through Chuuya’s dresser. “If you two wanted a tour, you could’ve just asked. Ambushing me like this means I haven’t cleaned in a while.”
Not that there is much to clean. Chuuya can barely afford to keep the library running, so there is little left for himself: a small room that’s mostly taken up by the unrolled futon, the single-burner stove, and the mini-fridge he managed to shove into the corner with the help of his ability. A small dresser is shoved against the wall, his journal normally sits on top of it, and the remaining minimal floor space is currently being used for dirty laundry.
“Sorry, Mister.” Kenji offers. “We’re just trying to figure out—”
The redhead clamps his hand over Kenji’s mouth. “Nothing! We aren’t trying to do anything. We just, um, wanted to have a look?” It’s a weak excuse, so Chuuya rolls his eyes.
“Guys, it’s fine. You are hardly the first kids to sneak up here and see if there’s anything worth stealing. Trust me, there is not. If there were, I’d be more than happy to let you have it; I’m sure you’d need the money more than I. Come on, let’s head downstairs.”
Chuuya waves a hand for the kids to go first and they shuffle ahead obediently.
“See?” Kenji whispers to his friend. “I told you he was nice.”
“Shut up, man.”
Having corralled the kids back downstairs and firmly latched the door to his loft shut, Chuuya turns to offer his aid in finding books for the kids, only to find that they have both vanished yet again. This time, the front door is open just a smidge, proving they made a swift escape. Sighing, Chuuya heads over and pulls the front door shut, hoping to keep insects out.
Come Monday, Chuuya is fully prepared for Dazai to not show up. Chuuya made a fool of Dazai to his business associate, so it would be completely understandable if Dazai did not want to visit anymore.
Yet the door swings open and Dazai prances inside, beaming like usual.
“Chuuya!” Dazai greets happily. “Miss me?”
Chuuya snorts, shaking his head fondly.
“The tan is nice,” Chuuya offers instead of admitting that, for reasons he doesn’t understand, he would’ve been slightly crushed if Dazai had chosen to not come back anymore.
“I think it’s ugly,” Dazai complains, picking at the tan coat he is wearing. “But my coat got, uh, messy, so Oda leant me one and all he had left was this ugly thing.”
Chuuya shrugs. “Still, the color is nice. It goes with your hair.”
“Oh?” Dazai’s hand lifts to twirl a strand of dark hair. “Maybe I’ll have to buy a tan coat myself, if Chuuya likes it so much.”
“I didn’t say that.” Chuuya objects immediately. “Don’t waste your money on stuff you don’t like.”
Dazai shrugs. “I have money to burn, it’s fine.”
“Right.” Chuuya rolls his eyes. People with money never seem to understand how to spend it.
“Speaking of which,” Dazai continues, “I am feeling rather inclined to splurge on a nice evening. Maybe at a fancy restaurant or a movie premier?” The comment trails off into a question, and Dazai’s visible eye flicks Chuuya’s way.
“…Okay? Have fun?”
Dazai makes a small, frustrated noise.
“This clearly isn’t working,” Dazai grumbles under his breath, quietly enough that Chuuya can barely hear him. “I never should’ve listened to Hirotsu’s advice. New plan!” Dazai declares, his tone louder and more determined. “Chuuya, if you had endless resources at your disposal, what would you like to do tonight?”
“Uh.” Chuuya pauses to consider the hypothetical, using the moment to tie his hair back from his face since he’s got things to shelve. “I dunno. I guess buy some more books? Maybe another small bookshelf, there is kinda room in the far corner if I squished things, and I’d need more space if I bought a lot of new material.” He shrugs, hands dropping back to his sides now that his hair is knotted back.
“Okay!” Dazai agrees, clapping his hands together. “Then let’s go buy books!”
…
“What?!” Chuuya shrieks. “Dazai—”
“Don’t worry, Chibi, I have my black card and Hirotsu will be happy to drive us, so let’s go! No time to waste, I don’t know when the bookstores close.” Dazai grabs Chuuya’s arm and starts tugging him to the door, but Chuuya digs his heels in.
“Dazai, this is ridiculous! I can’t let you pay for my library’s books, and I can’t leave! The library is open right now!”
Dazai drags Chuuya through the door, flipping the ‘open’ sign around to ‘closed’ and smirks smugly.
“You are impossible.” Chuuya deadpans. But he stops dragging his feet, locks the door behind them, and matches his pace to the taller man’s. “Fine. If you really want to waste your money like this, I won’t stop you. I really could use some more books.” The kids would be glad to see some new things in the library tomorrow.
“Okay!” Dazai lifts his hand to flag down a taxi and Chuuya snorts, about to tell Dazai that taxis are really not a thing in Suribachi City—
An entire fucking black limousine pulls up next to them.
Dazai wastes no time in opening the door and gesturing for Chuuya to enter first, so, warily, Chuuya slide into the car. If this is a kidnapping, he can handle himself.
For someone who has never been in a regular vehicle before, much less an expensive one with seats so soft he’s pretty sure he could sleep here, Chuuya is more than a little out of his element.
He doesn’t get long to dwell on it.
Dazai plops down next to him and shuts the door. “To the bookstore, Hirotsu!” The man exclaims gleefully.
The older gentleman sitting behind the wheel raises his eyes to meet Chuuya’s gaze through the rearview mirror.
“Ah, Master Chuuya, I presume? A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Just Chuuya is fine,” Chuuya mumbles, not really sure why Dazai’s driver knows his name.
“Hirotsu,” Dazai whines, a pout on his lips, “don’t embarrass me!”
“Apologies, Boss.” The gentleman’s lips quirk up, but he turns his attention to the road and pulls away from the curb.
As they begin to move, Chuuya twists his gaze out the window to watch the world move by. Buildings blur and people are there and gone in a flash; it’s kind of like when he’s using his ability to fly overtop of everything, but also so different. Here he is level, equal, with all those around him. It’s nice.
The drive passes quickly — at one point Dazai gets a series of texts that make him grumble and complain, but he does take the time to answer them — and Chuuya is more than happy to spend the time quietly staring out the tinted window.
Before his eyes, the roads grow wider, the streets busier, the buildings taller: they’re in Yokohama.
Chuuya sucks in a sharp breath. Logically, he knew they would be leaving Suribachi to go shopping. Practically…
“What’s that?!” Chuuya gasps, pressing closer to the window as if doing so will help him see it better.
“Hirotsu.”
The limo smoothly pulls up to the curb.
Dazai exits the vehicle holds the door open to Chuuya and offers his hand. “Shall we?”
Chuuya grabs the offered hand and uses it to climb out of the car. “You don’t mind walking around a bit?” Chuuya asks, just to make sure. Dazai doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that enjoys wandering around.
“Of course not, if you want to.” Dazai doesn’t drop Chuuya’s hand even once they’re both out of the car. Instead, Dazai uses the hold to tug Chuuya towards the thing that caught his attention: a fountain. One of the pretty ones made of impossibly smooth stone with an equally beautiful dragon perched around it, a steady stream of water rolling out of the beast’s open mouth.
Chuuya patters right up to the stone sculpture and lays his free hand over it, skimming the dragon’s rippling scales.
“Amazing,” he murmurs. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Chuuya twists to meet Dazai’s gaze and is startled by how intensely the taller man is watching him. It’s a piercing look, like Dazai can see straight past any masks Chuuya might wear and can read the lines of code wrapping around his bones — like Dazai can see Chuuya for what he truly is and is not afraid.
Yet, despite the intensity, the gaze is soft. It doesn’t burn or hurt, but rather, paired with the gentle smile tipping Dazai’s lips up, is an expression that makes Chuuya’s tongue grow leaden and his ears tint pink. He averts his gaze, going back to staring at the stone fountain.
“Yes,” Dazai agrees, the thumb of his hand that’s still linked with Chuuya’s dragging over the back of Chuuya’s gloved hand. “Amazing is the word I’d use as well.”
Chuuya clears his throat and tries to fight back the warmth spreading into his cheeks.
“Um.” Chuuya tightens his grip on Dazai’s hand and sets off randomly down the busy street, pulling the lanky man after him. “Let’s find a bookstore.”
“Sure, whatever Chibi wants.” Dazai hums, seemingly content to spend his Monday morning trailing after Chuuya.
With a few stops along the way to look at all the cool things Chuuya has never seen before, they do find a bookstore. It’s huge, shelves on every wall, packed full of thousands of books.
“Wow.” Chuuya slowly turns on the spot, taking it all in. “This is amazing.”
“You like it that much?” Dazai sounds a little puzzled, but he shrugs. “Okay then. Come on.”
A little dazed, Chuuya follows along as Dazai leads the way through the stacks, up to the cashier.
“Excuse me,” Dazai smiles politely to the lady working there. “May I speak to a manager?”
The lady frowns. “If you have a complaint, Sir, I can handle it for you.”
“No, no.” Dazai waves the notion aside and reaches into his coat, pulling out his wallet. “I’d like to purchase this establishment.”
Both Chuuya and the lady gape at Dazai, who continues smiling like he didn’t just say something insane.
“What?!” Chuuya finally manages to squeak. “Why would you do that?!”
Dazai blinks slowly. “Well, you like it. I thought you’d be happy if I bought it for you.” Dazai cocks his head and frowns. “Do you not want it? We can find another bookstore, I’m sure there’s more than one in Yokohama—”
“Dazai, please don’t buy me a bookstore.” Chuuya blurts. Dazai’s frown deepens. “I like my library and am happy in Suribachi. Look, if you really want to buy me things, let’s just stick to buying books, okay? Books, not bookstores.”
“Oh.” Dazai’s frown swaps back to a soft smile. He tucks his wallet away. “Okay. Pick whichever books you’d like, Chuuya.”
“Okay.” Slowly, giving Dazai time to change his mind, Chuuya walks over to the kids’ section and starts browsing the picture books. The library always needs more of those, especially the ones with few words and more pictures that are great for teaching someone how to read.
A moment passes, then Dazai joins him, plucking a book randomly off the shelf and flipping through it. “What are we looking for, Chuuya?”
“Good stories that are easy to read,” Chuuya replies. “And maybe some graphic novels if they have any here, the teens really like those.”
“Ah.” Dazai pulls out his phone and taps out a quick text. The response comes seconds later, as if whoever the message is too was waiting for Dazai’s text. “There is a comic shop two streets over. We can go there next, if you want.”
“Sure,” Chuuya agrees. “That would be nice.”
Examining the books before him, Chuuya contemplates. Dazai is clearly rich enough to throw money around like it’s nothing considering the lunatic just offered to buy this entire bookstore, so maybe Chuuya can buy a few more books than he planned to. The original plan was to buy maybe ten or fifteen new things, but, if Dazai really doesn’t mind spending the money…
“Dazai, how many can I get?” Still, it is polite to ask.
“All of them.” Dazai replies breezily.
“Dazai,” Chuuya sighs, “I’m being serious.”
“So am I, Chibi.” Dazai tilts his head and smirks. “Buy whatever you want, my card won’t mind one bit.”
…Well, this is simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“Okay.” Chuuya tucks the book he was examining under his arm and moves onto the next one.
They leave that store with a large cardboard box full of over fifty new picture books. Chuuya is carrying the box and humming happily to himself, yet Dazai’s visible eye is gleaming brightly enough that Chuuya is almost ready to wager that Dazai is just as happy with this outcome as he is.
They stop at the limo to drop off the box, then continue, heading to the comic store Dazai mentioned. They leave that store with nearly a hundred new graphic novels — Chuuya protested, but Dazai kept pulling them off the shelves and adding them to the to-purchase pile, claiming he’d heard his coworkers talking about which newer volumes were good — packed into another large box that gets added to the limo.
Next Dazai guides them to yet another bookstore. Here they pick up novels for a wide range of ages: youth, young adult, and adult, as well as some new non-fiction texts. Dazai pleads with Chuuya until he agrees to get and read every book written by the author going by S.O. There are only three books by that author, so it’s not a huge deal considering they walk out of there with forty-six new novels and twenty non-fiction texts.
“Seriously,” Chuuya pipes up as he slides the latest box of purchases into the limo, “thank you, Dazai. This is incredible.”
“Well, we aren’t done quite yet!” Dazai declares, grinning broadly.
“We aren’t?”
“Nope! You needed a new shelf too, right?” Before Chuuya can say anything, Dazai has already grabbed Chuuya’s hand yet again and set off down the busy Yokohama streets.
Sighing, Chuuya goes willingly. Given the volume of materials they bought today, he does need a new shelf. Though—
“Oh!” Chuuya halts. He points to the window of the shop they’re outside, the pretty pens and notebooks in the window catching his eye. “I want to go in here.”
Instead of agreeing immediately like always, Dazai’s nose wrinkles. “Are you sure you want to go into this stationary store, Chuuya?”
“Uh, yeah? Their notebooks are really nice, and my journal is almost full. Don’t worry, this is a personal thing, not a library thing, so you don’t have to pay for this. I just want to see how much they are.” He probably can’t afford one, but it would be nice. The red and black notebook in the window is stunning.
“Ugh. The things I do for you, Chuuya.” Dazai sighs and leads the way into the store. “And don’t be silly: I already told you I would pay for everything today, so buy whatever you’d like. I’m happy to get it for you.”
“…Really?”
“Really.” Dazai confirms with a nod and a smile.
Chuuya immediately finds the same red and black notebook that was on display and snatches one up, hugging it to his chest, then patters over to the pen selection to peruse the options. It would be cool to have a fancy journaling pen.
“Hmm. You should get this one.” Dazai suggests, pointing to a stunning pen. It’s a deep red color with black swirls and gold marking etched into the barrel.
“It is lovely,” Chuuya agrees. He lifts the pen off the shelf and hums approvingly at the weight of it in his hand.
Then he sees the price tag and the little information sticker saying that there is real gold in this thing.
“Dazai!” Chuuya puts the pen back down carefully, hoping he didn’t scratch it. “This thing is nearly thirty thousand yen!”
“Yeah, glad you can read, Chibi.”
“I can’t buy this! That’s insane — a pen is not worth this much.”
Dazai shrugs. “It’s got gold, of course it’s expensive. Besides, it’s a pretty pen and you like it.” The man scoops the pen up and plucks the notebook from Chuuya’s hold. “So, I’m buying it for you.”
Chuuya does his best to talk Dazai out of it, but his efforts are futile: Dazai marches determinedly to the cashier and, with the swipe of a card, hands over the most beautiful notebook and pen set Chuuya will ever own.
Staring down at the items in his hands, Chuuya has no idea what to say, just that he needs to say something. He opens his mouth—
The door of the shop opens with the little bell above the door chiming pleasantly.
“You!”
Chuuya tenses up as Dazai groans. He knows that voice.
Whirling around, Chuuya finds himself facing the blond man Dazai called Kunikida.
“Great, it’s you.” Dazai grumbles.
“You should know better than to come to my favourite stationary store if you didn’t want to run into me, Dazai.” Kunikida huffs. “Well, since I have you here, we should discuss—”
“Lalala I’m not listening!” Dazai sings loudly, cutting Kunikida off. “I’m very busy, as you can see.” Dazai steps closer to Chuuya and, as Chuuya did last time he met the blond man, Dazai wraps an arm around Chuuya’s waist.
Kunikida’s gaze flicks between Chuuya and Dazai, then it lands on the new, very expensive, stationary in Chuuya’s hands. The blond sighs: “Ah, a shame someone with taste as good as you is stuck with someone like Dazai.”
Unsure how to respond to that, Chuuya just shuffles closer to Dazai, silently asking him to deal with this awkward conversation.
Thankfully, the other man gets the message. Dazai, without removing his arm from it’s place around Chuuya, stalks out of the store.
Dazai pauses in the doorway, glancing to the blond man over his shoulder. When he speaks, it’s in that cold, dangerous tone Chuuya heard last time these men interacted. “Kunikida, Gin tells me you’re poking around where you shouldn’t.”
“Dazai, surely you understand—”
“That I could ruin you and your little organization in hours if I wanted to?” Dazai barks a cruel laugh. “Perhaps you ought to consider how bad it would be for you to have me as an enemy.”
“Dazai, this city only stays peaceful when we’re working together; we proved that these past weeks with the Guild. I know you aren’t foolish enough to throw that away just for—”
“Kunikida. Stop relying on the mercy of a man that is not known for such things and listen when I tell you to leave it alone.” With those final words hanging heavily in the air, Dazai sweeps out of the store, guiding Chuuya along with him, without giving Kunikida a chance to respond.
They walk a few paces, Dazai’s arm still wrapped comfortably around Chuuya, then Chuuya clears his throat.
“I take it that joint project didn’t go over well if your businesses are now fighting.”
Dazai sighs. “I expected incompetence from Kunikida’s people, so we were prepared to do all the heavy lifting in the project, so it turned out as I suspected. This conflict, however, is of a different matter entirely.”
“Ah. Well, I know nothing about business, but I can punch him for you?” Chuuya offers with a small shrug of his shoulders.
Dazai huffs a small note of amusement. “As much as I would love to see that, I’d much rather keep Kunikida and his snoopy companions as far away from you as possible.” Dazai pauses. “Well, in that case, if any of them come poking around your library, please feel free to punch them.”
“I will,” Chuuya agrees. “Now, can we go back to the library and put all these books away?”
“But we haven’t gotten you shelves yet!” Dazai gasps. “Chibi, we can’t be done yet!”
“Dazai, we’ve spent hours book shopping already. I really should get back to the library and unpack the new things. You’ve single-handedly doubled my library’s size, so thanks for that.” Chuuya comments, smiling up at the taller man.
“Of course, Chuuya.” Dazai smiles back. “So, once we get those books back to your library, could I perhaps steal the rest of your evening and treat you to dinner?” There’s a hopeful shine in Dazai’s eye that does nothing to explain why this man wants to spend even more money on Chuuya today.
“Uh, why?” Chuuya asks, genuinely curious about the answer. He’s never had a friend before, so he’s pretty sure this isn’t what friends normally do. Friends don’t hold each other close as they walk down the street, don’t make your heart race quicker than it should.
Dazai’s smile fades slightly. “Is it not obvious? I thought I was being too upfront…” Before Chuuya can get a word in, Dazai continues. “Well, Chuuya, for whatever strange reason, you make me feel human.”
Dazai says those words like they carry the weight of the world, like they mean so much more than how they sound, and Chuuya gets that. He likes spending time with Dazai too. This entire time they’ve been touching, he hasn’t felt the buzzing anger of his ability, hasn’t felt like the monster the lab always told him he was.
“Yeah,” Chuuya whispers his agreement. “You make me feel human too, Dazai.”
Arriving back at Chuuya’s library, he excitedly unpacks all the new books, grinning proudly at the overfull shelves and stacks of new things sitting on the floor.
“I told you we needed to get new shelves,” Dazai complains from his spot on Chuuya’s desk.
“Well, you can get me new shelves next time.” Chuuya offers.
Dazai perks up. “Next time? You mean, you’d like to go out again sometime?”
“Yeah, I would.” Chuuya can feel his cheeks warming with the admission but doesn’t look away this time. Dazai’s cheeks are also darkening ever so slightly. “So,” Chuuya continues, marching over to his desk, “I guess it’s just about evening. Did you, um, still want to get dinner?”
If possible, Dazai brightens further. “Yes! Absolutely. What are you in the mood for? Seafood? Me too, I love crab. One of my restaurants has the best crab— and really good wine. Do you like wine? Let me make a quick call, I’m sure my table is available—” Dazai freezes as his phone starts to ring.
He exhales softly and brings it to his ear, answering and speaking in that dark, cold tone he uses with Kunikida. “This had better be important, Akutagawa.”
There is a long pause during which Chuuya can make out not words, but panicked sounds coming from the other end of the phone.
“I’m sorry, it’s sounds like you’re saying you got Atsushi injured and are not competent enough to handle this on your own. Is that true?” Dazai exhales harshly. “I’ll be there in five minutes, don’t let anyone else die.”
Hanging up, Dazai returns his attention to Chuuya, his expression miserable.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Chuuya offers before Dazai can say anything. “We can do dinner another night.”
“Yeah, okay.” Dazai mumbles, looking for all the world like someone just murdered his puppy in front of him. “I guess. See you later?”
“Good luck sorting out whatever is happening at work.” Chuuya replies.
Dazai huffs. “Idiots doing idiot things, that’s what’s happening.” His eye dips past Chuuya to the library’s table. “Does your table still have that bloodstain?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Chuuya. If my subordinates not getting along is going to interrupt my dinner plans, then I guess they need to sort their issues out.” Dazai sends Chuuya a final smile, then disappears out the library door.
So, instead of going out for dinner for the first time, Chuuya locks the library door and heads up to his loft for yet another day of poorly cooked instant noodles.
Later, when he’s sitting with his new journal in his lap and his new, far too expensive, pen in his hand, Chuuya finds himself writing down the day’s events with an unforced smile tickling his lips and a pleasantly warm heart beating a little too quickly in his chest.
The next day, about two minutes after Chuuya unlocks the door, Dazai enters, pulling two boys along with their ears.
“Ow! Dazai, please let go! This hurts!”
“Dazai, I did nothing wrong! It was all the stupid Jinko’s fault!”
Dazai drops his hold on the boys’ ears. “Akutagawa, Atsushi, go sit at the table.”
Despite their complaining, the boys — both clad in heavy black coats that match the one Dazai is wearing — immediately follow the order and go sit at the table. They pick opposite seats, scowling at each other over the small table.
“Chuuya,” Dazai’s tone is softer now. He clasps his hands together as if praying for aid. “Would you please work your teenager-handling magic and make them get along?”
Chuuya snorts, rising from behind his desk. “It’s not magic, but sure, I’ll talk with them for a bit and see what’s up. It’s usually another half hour or so till the regulars get here.”
Pattering over, Chuuya looks between the two boys Dazai dragged in: the black-haired one is slouching in his plastic seat and glaring venomously at the other, while the white-haired boy is looking around the library with curious dual-colored eyes, ignoring the glare being shot his way.
“Hey, I’m Chuuya,” he starts, picking a seat directly in the middle of the two boys and sitting calmly. He folds his hands together and places them in plain sight on top of the table. “How are you two doing today?”
“Nice to meet you, Sir. I’m Atsushi. And I’m doing better than yesterday,” the white-haired boy mumbles, shooting a look at his dark-haired companion. “Since someone tried to kill me again.”
“You’re fine now, so I don’t see the big deal.”
“You IMPALED me!”
Black-hair scoffs. “You have regeneration.” He tips his nose up to look down at the other even though they are both sitting down.
“It still hurt!”
Chuuya takes a deep breath, suddenly unsure what, exactly, he’s dealing with here.
“So,” Chuuya starts. “You,” he points to black-hair, who must be Akutagawa, “stabbed you,” his finger shifts to Atsushi, “and now you’re both mad?”
“Ah, such is the life of video game testers!” Dazai exclaims, skipping over to hover at Chuuya’s shoulder. “Right, boys?”
“Video—? Ah, yes, Sir!” Atsushi offers a weak smile.
“Honestly, Jinko, you can’t even lie properly; I do not understand your use in our organization.”
“I get it.” Chuuya announces, a smirk pulling his lips up. He leans back in his seat and tips his head to grin at Dazai. “I see this type of thing all the time: they’re crushing on each other and don’t know how to handle it.”
Dazai’s lips part, shocked.
“WHAT?! As if I would ever do something as plebian as having a— a crush!”
“Um, I don’t like Akutagawa… He stabs me and is always yelling, it’s stressful!”
“Uhhuh,” Chuuya hums, unconvinced. “Now look each other in the eye and say that.”
As anticipated, both boys glare each other down, and open their mouths, only to freeze up and avert their gazes at the last second.
Atsushi wails and covers his face with both hands, hiding his blush. “This is ridiculous! Why do I even like you?! You’re mean to me all the time, unless Gin is there, then you just ignore me!”
“Well, it’s not my fault you keep doing stupid things that need pointing out!” Akutagawa snaps back. “What else am I to do, Atsushi? Would you prefer I waste both of our time talking about how I love the way the moonlight refracts in your eyes, or how impressive it is when you cover my back before I even know there is another enemy there?”
“You can’t just say stuff like that!” Atsushi groans. “It’s not fair!”
“That’s why I don’t usually say anything!”
“Why are you still yelling?!”
“Why are you?!”
Standing from his seat, Chuuya grabs Dazai’s wrist and pulls him away from the teenagers. They can sort their own… issues out on their own.
“Come on.” Chuuya leads Dazai up the short, rickety staircase to his flat and sits on his unrolled futon, tugging Dazai down with him.
“Ohho? If Chuuya wanted me in bed, all he had to do was ask.” Dazai waggles his eyebrows suggestively. Chuuya snorts.
“Yeah right. More like I don’t have any chairs.” He waves a hand, gesturing to the limited space around them. “You’re welcome to stand if you’d prefer.”
“No, no, I’m comfy. Though…”
Chuuya shrieks as arms snake around his midsection and yank him into Dazai’s lap. A chin plonks down on his head as Dazai presses his front right up against Chuuya’s back. As someone who has limited human contact over the twenty-two years of his life, Chuuya has never been held like this before. But he kind of likes it. It’s warm. Having Dazai wrapped around him like this feels… safe.
“Mhm, yes, this is much comfier.” Dazai sighs happily. One of the hands resting on Chuuya’s stomach shifts so a finger can poke his gut. “Are you comfy, Chuuya? Do you want me to let go?”
“No!” Chuuya blurts immediately, leaning his weight back into the hold to as if to squish Dazai into place. “No, this is nice. I like this.”
“Me too.” Dazai agrees.
There are a lot of things Chuuya could say right now: he could ask about Dazai’s business, since there is something up there, or he could try to figure out how to express how nice it was to go shopping and explore Yokohama yesterday with the other man.
Instead, Chuuya keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, enjoying the moment and the warmth flooding through him.
Dazai breaks the peaceful silence. “Chuuya, I—”
A loud scream cuts off whatever Dazai was about to say.
Bolting to his feet, Chuuya races downstairs into the library, fully prepared to find another gang brawl.
Instead, he finds his regular Sheep and Jaguar crew pressed up against the door, staring in horror at Atsushi and Akutagawa, who are still sitting at the table and arguing.
Chuuya looks between the teens, confused. “What’s wrong? Who screamed?”
The locals look at him like he’s nuts. Chuuya just raises an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.
“Chuuya,” Yuan starts, her voice squeaky and small. “Do you not know who they are?”
“Um, yeah? That’s Atsushi and Akutagawa. They’re sorting out their issues.”
The kids gape at him and Chuuya suddenly feels like he is missing something very important.
Nudging and whispering to each other, the kids must come to some sort of consensus. Shirase steps forward, gulps, and opens his mouth—
“Ah, are these those little friends of yours, Chuuya?”
Chuuya watches, more confused than ever, as Dazai prowls over to stand at his side and smiles sweety at the kids. Every single kid goes pale, shuffling back as far as they can given the small space. Those closer to the door slip out and run.
“In any case,” Dazai continues, “we’d best be heading out.” He whistles sharply, Atsushi and Akutagawa racing over and falling in behind him in seconds. “Walk me to my car, Chuuya?” Dazai holds out a hand; Chuuya takes it easily.
“Sure. Guys,” he addresses the teens, “you’re kinda blocking the door.” They quickly scramble out of the way, watching with wide eyes and pale faces as Chuuya leads Dazai and his two colleges out of the library.
“Sorry about them,” Chuuya offers once the four of them are outside. “I don’t know why they reacted so weirdly to you guys.”
“It’s fine.” Dazai shrugs. “Honestly, it’s not that abnormal. I can be a scary guy when needed.”
“Still,” Chuuya objects, uneasy about how unconcerned Dazai seems, “it was rude of them. Oh, and where did Hirotsu park today?”
Dazai points across the street to a row of old, unkept buildings. “There’s a parking garage in there. Or at least, it used to be a parking garage. I’m not sure what it’s used for now, but I parked my car there.”
The words catch up to Chuuya and he halts. “Wait, you can drive?”
“Yes?” An amused light flares in Dazai’s eye. “I do like driving myself around sometimes. Hirotsu doesn’t complain as long as I’m not going off by myself.” Dazai points to the teens at his back. “And I had these guys with me today, so I was more than sufficiently bodyguarded.”
“’Bodyguarded’?” Chuuya echoes as they enter the ground floor of the old parking garage, heading deep into it to reach Dazai’s black car. “You’re important enough in the business world that you need a bodyguard? Should I be worried?” Chuuya is half-joking, half-serious. No attackers would ever beat him, but if Dazai is that important, he may have government connections who could spot and recognize Chuuya for what he is.
“Yes, you should be concerned.” A new voice coming from behind them pipes in speaking accented Japanese.
Dazai tenses up while Atsushi and Akutagawa immediately place themselves between Chuuya and Dazai and the newcomer.
“Francis.” Dazai drawls. “I thought you ran back to America with your tail between your legs.”
“Not quite, Dazai.” A tall blond man steps into view. He is wearing a very expensive suit and is smirking in a cruel manner. “Call it a strategic retreat; I won’t be leaving without that weretiger.”
“I’m not going with you!” Atsushi snarls. The kid bends his knees, dropping low, as if to leap into attack.
“Unfortunately for you,” the blond continues as if Atsushi hadn’t spoken, “I’ve realized I do not need the rest of you alive, and the weretiger has formidable regeneration abilities.”
Around them, the parking garage begins to tremble. Chuuya’s eyes follow a long crack that appears in the roof above them. He gulps. There are three floors above them. If those came crashing down… Well, Chuuya is confident he would live. The lab proved that he can live through just about anything.
But…
Chuuya’s gaze catches on Dazai’s side profile. The man is glaring at the newcomer, fury and the bad lighting in here making his eye simmer a dark red.
“Lovecraft, go ahead.” The blond man steps back, removing himself from the area just as the cracks in the building around them grow worse, dust and small pieces of debris raining down.
Then, all in one go, large tentacles appear out of nowhere and grab hold of the beams holding the place together.
The four of them start running for the exit, but Chuuya can tell they are too far away; they won’t make it.
“Atsushi!” Dazai barks. “Get Chuuya out first!”
“But Sir!”
“That’s an order.” Dazai offers Chuuya a weak smile, then drops his hand and shoves him towards Atsushi.
The tentacles squeeze, crushing the support beams, and the roof begins to fall.
Chuuya’s gaze flicks ahead, confirming that they won’t make it.
He dodges as Atsushi tries to grab hold of him and stops running.
“Chuuya?!” Panic crosses Dazai’s expression.
Chuuya offers the man a smile. “Thank you.” He whispers. He doesn’t have time to say everything he’d like to, to express how nice it was to experience what it is to care for someone and have them care in return.
Instead, he kneels down and plants a hand on the ground, activating his ability. It flares around him, a bright protective red halo, and Chuuya closes his eyes to concentrate. It takes him milliseconds to connect himself to all the debris that’s raining down on them, to coat it all in gleaming red light and stop its descent. He sucks in a heavy, shaking breath, unused to managing such weight given he hasn’t used For The Tainted Sorrow in years.
But, compared to the tests he was forced through in the lab, three floors of old, rotting parking garage is nothing.
Blinking his eyes open, Chuuya finds Atsushi and Akutagawa gaping at him. Dazai’s expression is eerily blank.
“Go,” Chuuya snaps, gritting his teeth from the strain of his ability. “I can’t hold it forever.”
“But what about you?” Atsushi cries. “You’re coming too, right?”
Chuuya grimaces. He shakes his head, only to halt the movement halfway through when the motion causes some of his concentration to slip and a few pebbles to fall free from the red net of his ability.
“Atsushi.” Dazai’s voice is deadly calm. “Let’s go. We can’t help him like this.”
“What? But Boss—”
“Now.”
Chuuya closes his eyes so he doesn’t need to watch as Dazai runs away. His ability flickers a few times, then it fades out. Rubble crashes down on him and everything goes dark.
When Chuuya opens his eyes next, he thinks it’s a dream. A too-familiar dream.
He is floating in the tank he grew up in, N is smiling at him, and he feels weak thanks to the ability-suppressing liquid crowding around him.
“Welcome back, A5158.”
Familiar words, too.
“I was wondering where you had run off too, A5158, but imagine my shock when intelligence reports spotted you with one Osamu Dazai.”
Chuuya freezes. In his dreams, N never knew about Dazai.
“Surprised? I was too. It’s him you have to thank for being back home, you know. If he hadn’t gotten you caught up in Port Mafia business, I doubt we would have found you.” N smiles serenely at him, but it’s a ploy. N knows exactly what weapon he’s wielding right now. “Now then, A5158, we will begin basic testing to see what progress you’ve managed to ruin during your little escapade—”
N is cut off by a loud scream from outside the lab room, swiftly followed by many more.
The scientist’s face twists into an annoyed expression as he grabs his radio and clicks the button on the side. “Status report. What is going on out there?”
There is no answer save for a low, animalistic growling noise.
The security door to the facility, a sturdy one that they built with the intent to keep Chuuya from escaping, is punctured by dozens of long, black shards crackling with red energy. The shards form a perfect doorway. When they pull back, a sizable chunk of the security door falls away.
N and Chuuya both stare at the empty doorway, awaiting the intruders.
“All clear.”
“Okay, good job. Wait! Do I look good?”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“But I need to make a good impression!”
“You’ve got a little, um, something there… No, a bit higher… um, here, just let me. Okay, now you’re good.”
“Okay. I’ve totally got this.”
Chuuya stares, eyes wide, as Dazai strolls through the door, a gun in hand and blood splatters on the bandages covering half of his face.
“Chuuya!” Dazai beams. “Did you miss me?”
“You!” N gasps. The scientist scrambles for the nearest panic button, only for one of those sharp black-red blades to spike through the air and stab into the man’s foot, pinning him in place. N howls, and it’s music to Chuuya’s ears.
Akutagawa stomps into the room, his black coat rippling with the same energy as those blades, and Atsushi follows, the boy’s features and limbs distorted into those of an albino tiger.
While Chuuya is distracted by the teens’ arrival, Dazai plays around with the nearby controls and finds the one that opens Chuuya’s tank. He startles as the liquid begins to drain but recovers quickly and eagerly slams open the thick glass door as soon as it unlocks.
Scrambling out of the tank, Chuuya sucks in a deep breath of air, then returns to gaping at his rescuers. Atsushi is wandering around, hitting things every once and a while so that expensive machinery starts to smoke, while Akutagawa contents himself with standing stoically.
Dazai is still smiling at him.
“You… you came for me?” Chuuya asks. “But I thought…” He trails off, not wanting to voice how he was sure his ability had scared Dazai away for good.
“Of course.” Dazai’s smile grows softer. “I’ll always come for you, Chuuya.” Dazai takes a step closer and opens his arms in invitation.
Chuuya’s breath hitches. He rushes into Dazai’s open arms, wrapping his own around the taller man’s waist as Dazai’s arms settle over his shoulders.
“I’m getting goo on you,” Chuuya mumbles after a moment, realizing that the leftover tank liquid is seeping off him and onto Dazai’s expensive clothes.
“That’s okay. I like you even when you’re all slimy.”
Chuuya snorts. “We’ll have to go shopping and get you a new coat.”
“That’s okay. We can buy you some fancy vests while we’re at it.”
The moment is ruined when N speaks up. “Just what do you think you’re doing?! This is a government-sanctioned facility! You are interfering with and stealing government assets!”
“I’m taking Chuuya back.” Dazai retorts, not letting go of their hug, so Chuuya can’t see the look on N’s face. “He is a person and does not belong to you. You and your government are welcome to try and imprison him again, but that would be quite foolish: come anywhere near Chuuya again, and the Port Mafia will retaliate.”
Chuuya startles at that. “Dazai, you can’t just decree that the largest gang in the city is going to protect me!” He hisses, lightly smacking the taller man’s back.
“Mafia, not a gang, and sure I can,” Dazai replies easily. “I’m the boss.”
Chuuya squints at him. “…Really?”
“What do you mean, ‘really’? Do I not look like a scary mafia boss?” Dazai pouts.
“Um, not really.”
Dazai wails dramatically, proving Chuuya’s point. “Chibi is so mean! I go through all the trouble of kidnapping him from his kidnappers and he doesn’t think I’m scary? How awful!”
Chuuya rolls his eyes and huffs. “It’s not a bad thing that I don’t find you scary, Dazai.”
“My street cred,” Dazai groans, dropping his cheek down onto Chuuya’s head, getting goo on his bandages. “Forever ruined… What will my subordinates think?”
“They’ll think: wow, we’ve been here a really long time and should be going before they send reinforcements.” Atsushi comments.
“For once, I agree with the Jinko. Dazai, you can coddle your boyfriend later. We need to go.”
“See?!” Dazai exclaims. “They know I won’t shoot them if you’re here, so they’re rude to me now!”
“How unfortunate for you,” Chuuya replies dryly. “Can we please get out of here?”
“Of course,” Dazai replies immediately. His arms drop away from Chuuya, though he does link their hands together. “Let’s get you home, Chuuya.”
Later, after Chuuya has washed up and changed into his favourite comfy clothes, he sits down next to Dazai on his futon and asks the question that’s been bouncing around his head.
“Did you know?”
“I know a lot of things, Chuuya, can you be more specific?” Dazai reaches over to take Chuuya’s hand, but he jerks it out of the way, trying to ignore the flash of hurt on Dazai’s face. He needs to know the answer first.
“About me.” He clarifies. “Did you know what I am when we met?”
Dazai shakes his head. “No. When we first met, all I saw was a very beautiful man that was fun to talk to and had an ambitious goal others would be terrified to dream up. I kept coming back because I like you, Chuuya. Simple as that.”
Chuuya’s hopes lift. “Really?”
“Really.” Dazai confirms. This time, when Dazai reaches for his hand, Chuuya is happy to link their fingers together himself. “Though,” Dazai continues, “I do have to admit I may have read a certain government file a few years ago. I connected the dots when I saw you using that ability — gravity manipulation. Sorry for leaving, by the way, but I knew you’d survive and was fairly certain the government was already on their way to come get you. I was hoping to intercept them before they got you to that facility, but that would’ve taken more organizing, so I snuck ahead with Akutagawa and Atsushi to get you out of there as quickly as I could.”
“Thanks.” Chuuya whispers, looking down at their linked hands so he doesn’t need to face Dazai after the admission that’s hanging heavily in his heart. “Dazai, you need to know that I’m not exactly human—”
Dazai snorts. “Chuuya, you are just as human as anyone I have ever met.”
“But—”
“And even if you weren’t, that’s okay too. My ability,” Dazai’s thumb drags over the back of Chuuya’s hand, “is called No Longer Human. So, if you aren’t human, then I’m not either. We match.”
Tentatively, Chuuya flicks his gaze up. Dazai is smiling at him. It’s a soft look, one that makes Chuuya’s heart flutter and almost convinces him that Dazai is right, that, human or not, they are a matching set.
“So, what comes next?”
“You could join the mafia.” Dazai offers immediately. “Only if you want to, of course, but I would love to have you at my side.”
Chuuya wrinkles his nose at the thought. “Sorry, but no.” Chuuya continues before Dazai can try to protest his decision. “They made me for battle, you know. I was supposed to be a weapon for the war, but they never used me. So, thanks for the offer, but I would rather stay here with my library.”
“Your library is very lucky to have you,” Dazai sighs. “Well, can I at least send out word that the library and all library staff are officially under Port Mafia protection?”
“I am the only staff member.” Chuuya deadpans. “But fine, go ahead. Though you are not using my library as a base for any mafia business, nor are you recruiting any of the kids that come here, got it?”
“Okay. Can I still buy you new shelves or is that no longer allowed now that you know I’m mafia?”
Chuuya snorts. How is that a priority? “You can still buy me shelves. Actually, please do; there are so many books sitting on the floor right now.”
“We can go shopping tomorrow?”
“Sure. That would be nice.”
A pause and Dazai grins slyly, then: “So, does this officially make me Chuuya’s boyfriend?”
“Hmm, I dunno…”
“Chuuya!” Dazai pouts. “Please? Let me prove that I can be the best boyfriend ever!”
“Well,” Chuuya bites his lip nervously, “I’ve never had a real boyfriend, but I’ve read lots of books, and I’m pretty sure that a good boyfriend would probably ask to kiss me right about now.”
“Chuuya.” Dazai’s free hand rises to cup his cheek. Despite the man’s callouses, it’s soft. Chuuya stares into Dazai’s visible eye, nearly melting at the warmth resting there. “Can I please kiss you?”
“Y-yeah.”
Dazai’s lips are on his the moment Chuuya finishes the word, and it’s not what he expects. He thought kisses were supposed to be fireworks and world-changing, but this isn’t. This is sweet and tender. Dazai’s hand is still cupping Chuuya’s cheek, holding him softly; not like he’ll break, but like Dazai truly thinks Chuuya is someone special that deserves to be treated gently. If anything, this kiss feels the same as when Dazai is holding him close: it’s the same intimacy, just expressed in a different manner.
Chuuya smiles into the kiss, a pleased hum rising in his throat.
Dazai breaks the kiss off. “Good?” He asks, a little out of breath.
“Yeah.” Chuuya replies, curling his fingers around Dazai’s neck to pull the taller man back down for another kiss. Then another. He quite likes kissing.
The next morning his regulars practically tear the door off it’s hinges in their haste to get into the library.
“Hey guys, good morning.”
“Chuuya?!” Shirase shrieks. “You’re alive?!”
“Yep.” Chuuya grins easily.
“Is it true you joined the Port Mafia?!” Yuan blurts. “Everyone has been talking about how the mafia has taken claim over your library.”
“Nah,” Chuuya shakes his head. “I didn’t join, I’m just dating their boss.”
…
“WHAT?!”
“Yeah, so don’t worry if you see him hanging around, okay? Oh, and I’m pretty sure Atsushi and Akutagawa will be watching the library on Mondays, Dazai wanted a date-day, so don’t freak out if you see them here either.”
The teens all exchange panicked looks.
“Chuuya,” Shirase starts, speaking slowly to make sure his words get across, “are you feeling alright? Have you hit your head recently?”
“I haven’t hit my head, Shirase. And I’m doing really great, thanks.”
The kids are not convinced that Chuuya hasn’t been brainwashed, but they gradually let it go once they see the new shelves lining the library’s walls along with stacks of spiral bound notebooks, pencils, and coloring books and pencils. That and the crate of non-perishable food items that Akutagawa and his dark-haired companion drop off each week. Whatever it is, the kids come around without too much convincing.
Though they do still panic the first few times they come in and spot Dazai lounging in Chuuya’s desk chair.