Chapter Text
Chuuya and Dazai were drunk. Not the kind of drunk where you get a little tipsy but are otherwise coherent. No — they were the type of drunk to make really stupid decisions and not remember them the next day. The type where you drink so much you can’t articulate sentences properly or form a clear thought.
About three and a half weeks ago, the dynamic duo came back from a long and tough mission that really tested the limits of their torture training and pain tolerances. And just a few hours ago, Dazai had returned from one of those weeks where he disappears and reappears without a word. Chuuya had tried to get him to talk once, the first time it happened after he joined the Mafia, but Dazai acted like those absences never happened. Eventually, Chuuya just accepted it as one of the brunette’s weird quirks.
Chuuya heard knocking at his penthouse door. Was the boss summoning him again? He changed out of his pajamas into his Mafia clothes and opened the door. There stood his very wet partner. He had noticed some rain earlier through the window.
Before Chuuya could yell at the mackerel for waking him in the middle of the night, Dazai grabbed his wrist and started dragging him somewhere.
“DAZAI!? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!? GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME!!!”
“We’re going to get a drink,” the taller of the two boys said, still dragging a yelling Chuuya behind him.
“IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST ASK THOSE STUPID DRINKING BUDDIES OF YOURS!” the ginger dog yelled.
The two continued their back-and-forth until they got to the bar on the bottom floor of the building.
An hour later, they were drunk — so drunk that Dazai agreed to something he usually would never do outside of missions: get on the chibi’s motorbike.
It was a beautiful night in Yokohama. The clouds and rain had cleared up, and the starlight reflecting off the puddles and damp streets was dazzling. Drunk Chuuya wanted to take himself and his partner on a ride around the beautiful city. In their haze of intoxication, neither of them realized they had crossed the city borders. At some point, they ended up in the city of Musutafu — the hero capital of Japan, home to the best hero school in the country: U.A. High.
Dazai loudly complained to Chuuya, “THE CHIBI’S GOING TOO FAST, YOU—YOU’RE GONNA CRASH DA BIKE AND WE’LL BOTH DIE A SUPERDUPER SLOW AND PAINFUL DEATH AND—AND—AND THEN WE’LL—”
Neither of them noticed the approaching wall, the old, super-blond stick of a man, or the curly, green-haired teenager in front of them.
The bike crashed, and everything went dark.