Warehouses are not meant for children

1.8K 86 15
                                    

"Hello, Dazai." Mori's voice says, cool and collected as usual. "You've been dearly missed by both Elise and myself. The Port Mafia isn't the same without you." Dazai shivers at the eerie voice coming from his phone.

"What can I do for you this evening, Mori?" He says, taking a drag as he watches the puffs of smoke drift up into the atmosphere.

Mori's sudden appearance is too unexpected. Maybe he had secretly imbued a tracker into his phone? He should have taken apart his phone to check earlier. Mori is so governing towards Dazai, as if he's his dog. But it had always been like that, hadn't it? Even before the Mafia, he's been wrapped around Mori's finger.

"I see you've taken a bit of a vacation! He says, false cheer evident in his tone, "Glad to see you're having fun, but now that you're here I have an assignment for you."

--------------------------

He hates to admit it, but this has been the most fun Chuuya's had in a long time. There isn't much time to take breaks in the mafia, and he had been sent on lots of small assignments to 'prove his trust' or something as of late. He assumes it is just to keep him from planning an escape, but what if there is another reason? Is there more to this task he and Dazai have been assigned? Infiltrate the most famous hero school in Japan and a growing villain organisation. Surely Mori wouldn't send his right hand man and a literal vessel for a god. No, something else was brewing. Maybe Dazai knows something, but god, he would never tell Chuuya what he's thinking.

Chuuya blow-dries his hair, making sure to style it as he usually does. It'll look better when it's grown out more, he thinks. Petty things like appearance never used to cross Chuuya's mind back in the Sheep, but he's not fighting for his life all the time now. Presentation is important to the Port Mafia and Mori. Finishing up, he walks out to see Dazai hanging up the phone.

"Guess what Chuuya!" Dazai says, turning to face the ginger, "Mori's assigned us a little vaguely important task to do. Yippie!" Throwing jazz hands, he continues to talk. "He knew we were here, so I assume there's a tracker on one of our phones. I'll take a look at both of our phones for us tomorrow, but change into your work clothes right now!!"

Dazai throws his half-smoked cigarette out the window, irritation filtering across his face despite the sickly cheery tone that Chuuya is used to hearing when the conversation is about a certain boss. He hasn't changed out of that formal attire he always seems to don like a second skin.

Chuuya quickly changes (again), sliding his gun into the pocket of his coat. Dazai huffs at his phone, before signalling to Chuuya.

"Chuuya... I'm a bit concerned about you.." Dazai warns in a somber tone that causes Chuuya to turn around and stop what he's doing.

"Huh?!"

"Well... You're taking so long to get ready, I've started to theorise that you're turning into an actual little slug. Omg, is there goo coming out of your shoes?!?! I knew it!" He slaps the palms of his hands into his face and opens his mouth into an 'o'.

"How do you even come up with this shit!?!?" Chuuya shrieks. Dazai must be an alien sent to slowly torture him... "Shut your trap, Dazai. It's way too late to listen to your voice."

They exit the hotel, briefly nodding to the staff at the front desk. It may be a bit suspicious for two teenagers to walk out into the dead of the night, but they'd be leaving Hosu before anyone could do anything about it. Even at night, Hosu's activities prevail. Chuuya's pretty sure Musutafu's nightlife is much livelier than Hosu, but even that can't compare to places like Shibuya (So he's heard... He'll have to check it out).

"Oi bastard, are you going to tell me why we're out at ass o'clock?" Chuuya groans, glaring at the idiot beside him.

They've been walking for at least ten minutes, passing many bars that he could have definitely stopped at. Fuck, anything is more exciting than hanging out with Dazai. As they travel closer to their destination, the area becomes much more industrial.

I Don't Smoke (bsdxmha)Where stories live. Discover now