Dazai POV
There was a tension within the air when Chuuya and I walked inside of it, something heavy that didn't feel all that different from a meeting at the Port Mafia during one of the boss's good days. It was later enough that everyone within the office should have been gathering their things to go home, the light dying outside as we walked through the doors, and yet all of the other detectives were only lingering about the room without actually doing anything within it. Even Akutagawa was among them after having spent the day with Atsushi working on small cases, close enough to the tiger for each of the boys to keep an eye on one another and far enough that they could ignore one another's existence (not that they were too good at doing so).
They were waiting for something, or someone.
They boys were the first to notice our entrance, each of their eyes lighting up in a clear display of relief that made me want to remind them of the importance of concealing emotions, of not showing weakness. It was the peak of hypocrisy and yet the urge was there still.
"Dazai! Mr. Nakahara!" The younger of the pair called as both of them walked forwards, a little too fast a little too much.
Something must be happening, something related to the camps in one way or another.
I smiled in a way that I hoped appeared soft, from the glance that Chibi gave at my side I don't think that it exactly fooled someone that had known me for so long. "What's going on here?" I asked, gesturing at the other detectives in a casual manner, as if I didn't already have an idea of what would cause such a panic as to force a meeting that even a member of the Port Mafia would be allowed to attend.
As if I didn't already have an idea about who this meeting was about.
The younger mafioso was the one to answer, stepping forwards from his hesitant spot slightly behind the white haired detective so that they were shoulder to shoulder. A show of unity that made pride swell within me.
"That rude blond detective of yours has called a meeting," he explained before turning to the Hatrack and confirming what I had already thought to be true. "It's important enough that even you and I are invited to sit in, encouraged by the President even," Akutagawa explained. "We've been waiting for the two of you to come back before we started.
The mafia executive looked at me then, his eyes asking what I knew about this even as his mouth remained in a firm line. The truth was that I knew too much, and yet wanted to be wrong about it all. All I did was shake my head and tell myself that it wasn't a lie if I wasn't speaking.
Everyone gathered in the conference room quickly after that, both anxious to know what was going on and eager to be home. Kunikida stood at the head of the table next to the drawn down screen, as the President sat at the other head, closest to the door. All of the detectives filled in their usual seats from the few times that we had found ourselves in here, though normally not for something so tense, not since the Dead Apple incident with the presentation that I had purposely missed.
I would have missed this one too if I could have.
Chuuya, Akutagawa, and I stood at the back of the conference room, separated in a way that shouldn't have felt as natural as it did. The mafia members were staring at the detectives in abject horror, captivated by the siblings' interaction. Naomi was sitting next to her brother, having taken my seat, she was hanging on to the awkward ginger md spewing her normal amount of strange obscene things that makes everyone within the office question the nature of their relationship.
Life was easier when we didn't.
When the novelty of that had worn off, the pair became distracted by the muttering Yosano. The doctor could be seen flipping through pages and pages of gruesome photos, appraising each of them with a clinical eye. The woman had grown tired of the current images that blown up in her office and was looking for new ones to put upon her walls. It was always best to leave her alone during these moods less she ask for your opinion.
Lastly among the currently distracting escentrics that sat within the room was Ranpo, who after almost three minutes was still unpacking the snack that he had brought for the short meeting. It was a sight that made me sick everytime that I saw it, even as the older detective insisted that I take one. Especially on the days that he did so. It was hard to refuse though when the hatrack's eyes were on me, daring me to try and do so.
The Agency was nothing short of interesting.
I watched the two as they observed the scene, a blue candy in my mouth. Meetings within the mafia had always been serious o a certain extent, one could only expect so much professionalism when throwing Chuuya and I in an enclosed space for long periods of time. Asking for peace then was like asking for London without rain, it was impossible and wrong to do so. Not a meeting went by back then without some sort of bickering, to the extent that the other executives and sub - executives present had learned to continue through it, knowing that we were paying enough attention to chime in when needed. Now, I watched as the mafiosos' eyes darted around the room as if not sure where to look.
"Is this normal?" Akutagawa asked, not looking at me as he did so.
I simply shook my head. "No," I said with a shrug, "normal Kenji would be awake and talking about cows," I explained, pointing to the sleeping boy, "and I wouldn't be here."
The mafioso only nodded, nothing more.
"Attention everyone," a loud voice all but screamed, all eyes obediently turning to the speaker as Kunikida turned on the projector. "Late last night, there were reports of a dangerous ability user coming to the country illegally," the blond detective said as my gut began to twist with apprehension. I knew what was coming next. "This man is a known terrorist and has been known to target skill users in recent years," Kunikida explained as he pressed a button on his clicker and an image appeared on the screen. The feeling became worse.
On the screen was a grainy image of a man dressed almost completely in white and black, his dark hair cut just above his shoulders as it always had been, and though I couldn't see his eyes I knew that they were a shade of violet that belonged to him alone, as if the fates themselves had created it.
"His name is Fyodor Drovostkey," Kunikida said, though I hadn't needed him to, and I almost didn't hear the man at all as I looked at the image on the screen, my assumption coming to life. I hated that I noticed that he was still beautiful, ethereal in the way that gods so often were, never changing and lacking the flaws that made humans' beauty all the more real. "The name of his ability and the ability itself are unknown, but are considered to be lethal. If you see him, stay clear. Do not engage."
It was almost amusing to see the last words being directed at the tiger specifically, everyone within the room knowing the boy's track record with following such a rule was spotty since the very man that he was first meant to avoid was now standing on my left.
Atsushi raised his hand like a student and waited for Kunikida to call on him before speaking, something that would have been very amusing on a normal day. "So what do we plan to do about him then?" The teen asked. "We can't just leave him loose in a city full of ability users."
Kunikida looked at me for the first time since yesterday and my heart dropped. "Dazai will handle him," the blond said, his voice even and holding no emotion to it at all, not even anger.
I could see Atsushi stiffen at the idea as it was laid out so callously, but everyone else within the room looked unbothered by it. They didn't know how dangerous Fyodor could be, with or without an ability. The chess pieces that he moved as easy as breathing. They didn't know much about me either to that extent, so I guess I shouldn't have expected much. To them, it was safest to leave it to me.
Gods, if only they knew.
"Is that really okay to do?" Atsushi asked from his seat, concern lacing his voice. It was strange to know that such an emotion was for me. "To just dump this on Dazai?"
"He'll be fine, Jinko," the younger mafioso cut in, though even he - with all of his belief - snuck a glance at me.
"But-" the teen protested.
"I'll be fine, Atsushi," I said placatingly, hoping that it wasn't a lie. If this were only a game between the Russian and myself then I would be, but there was another player on the board that none of the others could see. Three tended to be a crowd and made things messy. "And, hey, if I'm not then I finally get to die! Win - win, right?"
I didn't have to look at the others to know that there was disappointment in their eyes as the boy's shone with misplaced worry.
The meeting continued on from there, going through the logistics of the situation and it was past time to leave for the day when we were finally allowed to do so. Chuuya looked at me as the others left the room, searching for something that I didn't know in my gaze. I don't think that he found it because the other only sighed before following the detectives out into the main office and into the stairwell. He hadn't said a thing since walking inside the Agency.
The sound of shoes hitting softly against concrete could be heard as the group of us walked down the stairs. The Agency is on the third floor, making it a long descent with so many filling the narrow space. Chuuya and I were towards the center of the group, the mafia executive eager to leave the Agency building and return to his home. If I was nicer then I would have just left it at that, but being nice wasn't something that I was known for and the tension was becoming too much.
I reached down and grabbed the hat sitting atop the smaller man's head, before laying it on my own with a small smirk.
"Shitty Dazai!" The slug exclaimed as he spun around, his hair flying and with the movement and shining like flames. Swinging his leg in a deadly arc, but I'd already moved to the side, landing a step below the angry red head, our eyes level.
"You don't need to scream, Chibi, I'm right here~" I sing - songed, though my voice came out much softer than I meant for it.
The other detectives kept walking, the back of the line already well past us as they continued their conversations, laughter filling the stairwell. It might not have existed at all as a god and the demon looked at one another.
"Mackerel."
Blue eyes met a false brown as the older of the pair up and slowly took back the stolen hat. The only sound that I could hear was the sharp breathing of the executive as his free hand lingered on my shoulder. I didn't even realize when he had placed it there and yet his touch seemed to sear into my skin.
I probably would have done something stupid if the door hadn't closed shut with a loud bang. I pulled away and walked a step down, savoring the image of the other before turning and walking down the rest of the stairs, pretending that I didn't see the confusion in the other's eyes as I did so, Chuuya's hand slipping away.
I opened the door and immediately stopped at the sight before me, Chuuya slamming into my back as I did so.
"What's the big idea, Bastard?" The other man growled, but I only had to grab his wrist to let him know that this wasn't another prank or something of the like. I could feel the older man freeze against my back as he took in the sight as well.
The other detectives were still gathered outside of the stairwell, each of them frozen as they looked at the figure standing before them. The subject of their attention was smiling as we walked outside, the door closing behind us.
"What a cold welcome," Fyodor said, his Japanese accented in the same way that his English always had been. "Do you treat all of your prospective clients like this?" He asked, his smile cold.
"Client?" Ranpo asked in a way that wasn't much of one as he stood close by the pair of us.
"Yes," the Russian agreed, stepping forwards as he did so. It was only the smallest of movements and yet it still made everyone tense. "You see I'm looking for someone. I was hoping to find him here." There was a coldness in his eyes that I had seen in the mirror countless times before and I already knew then how his move would unfold.
Kenji started to move forwards, his hands balled into fists in a rare display of what could become catastrophic anger. The kid didn't know any better after sleeping through the meeting.
"Don't," I hissed, grabbing the teen's arm in a vice grip, "his ability can kill you with a single touch if used right."
I felt everyone's eyes fall upon me, surprise evident in the air as they did so. It was obvious that they would be, I had just let slip information that none of them could have known, that only Ranpo would have suspected. But I didn't look at any of them in return, my eyes were only on the demon before me.
"Come," the man said flatly, drawing the detectives' attention back to him. "You know who you are."
And I did, didn't I?
I weaved through the crowd, feeling the way that Chuuya's hand just barely missed my own as he whispered my name harshly beneath his breath, trying to pull me back. But I only continued forwards, keeping my expression blank, giving away nothing to either side.
"Demon Fyodor," I greeted, my voice too cheery to be true as I leaned forwards with my hands behind my back, only looking at the other. "I didn't think that I would see you once again so soon, Fyeda."
It was a lie.
"Demon Prodigy," the other greeted in the same polite tone. "I knew that you would be smart enough to come out when called, Dazai dear."
We stopped close to one another, our sides facing the gathered crowd so that they could see our profiles, but we were far enough away to not be understood. It was the closest that we had been in months, and it made my heart threaten to speed up in a way that I didn't like.
"What do you want, Fyeda?"
"And here I was just praising you," Fyodor said with a soft disappointed chuckle. "Can't I just want to see you?"
"You never do anything without a reason, love," I chided, though we both knew that the questions were only for show.
Fyodor reached up and grabbed my neck, his thumb slipping beneath the bandages there. Lighting seemed to run down my spine as his thumb brushed against one of the stars that I knew was there.
"I suppose you're right," the other said with a frown as he increased the pressure that was there, his eyes holding no sympathy as it became harder to breathe. "What?" He asked as he looked at my still blank expression. "I thought you liked it when I touched you like this."
I laughed in a way that sounded inhuman even to my own ears. "The way that I remember, you were some other things while touching me like this."
There was a strangled gasp from somewhere in the crowd, but neither of us paid it any mind.
"What? Do you want me to do those things here and now?" The other criminal asked. Most would be flustered by such a thing, Fyodor only seemed slightly annoyed. "You Americans really have no sense of shame."
I noted the slip of information and prepared for the turn that I had been waiting for this conversation to take. "And you Russians are such prudes."
"Ah, could it be that you didn't like the gift that I sent you?"
"I figured that was you," I told the other softly, placing my hands on the older man's hips, mildly impressed with the other's cunning. "No one else could have brought those two camps together and convinced them to come this far away from the full strength of the gods. But I left that world behind, love."
It seemed that the other had done some digging since we first met.
"Oh?" The Russian questioned, playing coy. "Could it be the hanging suspension of arson and mass murder, or maybe the suspected terriosim that sent you running here? Or maybe those buses that you exploded, or that middle school gym? All before you were fourteen too."
The older ability user looked at the Agency members as he finished speaking, all of them looking on with varying levels of shock. Not even Ranpo was immune.
All but Chuuya.
"Oh, could it be that they didn't know?" The older man asked in a falsely apologetic tone. "I thought for sure that you would have told them the truth about you by now. I mean, by the looks of it, your little ginger sure did know."
"Leave him out of this," my voice came out with a slight growl, something that surprised me as much as it did the Russian that was holding me still.
"Whatever you say, Dazai dear."
His hand slid down to my waist and I didn't stop him though I knew just what the other intended to do. I only moved my hands so they were wrapped around the other's shoulders, my eyes never leaving his as a promise was sealed with the bloom of pain.
Game on.
—-
Chuuya POV
I watched as the two bastards interacted, feeling sick at the obvious way that they seemed to know one another. I listened as he spilled the bandage waste's secrets for the entire detective Agency to hear, purposefully speaking loud enough for his voice to carry. I heard how the white haired kid - the tiger - gasped in surprise in all the right places, as if the foreign bastard was putting on some sort of show.
I wanted to return my ticket.
I couldn't stand to watch anymore, not as Drovostkey's hands slid down the Mackerel's body as if he had a right to do so. There was something dark curling up in my chest at the sight of the two of them together, it'd been there since Dazai first pulled away to go to the Russian man. Since he stood so close to them that they were all but breathing the same air.
Since he stood as close to him as I had only a minute before.
Since Dazai had called the bastard 'love'.
Drovostkey did something to the bandage waste, but I'd stopped listening to him, stopped watching as well. As far as I was concerned this wasn't happening at all. The ruse didn't last long as Akutagawa called my name with enough urgency that I knew that I needed to look. The sight was enough that I had to fight down the swell of my ability. To fight for control.
The demonic pair stood just as they had only a minute before except where the bastard's hand should have been on the mackerel's waist, there was a blade sticking out of Dazai's side. All we could do was watch on as Dazai smiled that crazed smile of his that he always slipped into when pain was involved in such a way as this. It was nothing like how he had looked at the demigods only an hour or two ago, and I found myself mourning the other.
Dazai cupped the other's cheek, seemingly uncaring of the wound on his side or the Russian's role in putting it there - the second one, my mind notes, knowing that Drovostkey had been responsible for the one that occurred during the Dragon Head incident as well - as he brushed a finger over the terrorist's lips almost tenderly before pushing him away like a sort of poison.
The rat was gone before any of us could even see where he had gone. All we could see was the damage that he had left behind in his wake.
The former mafioso pitched forward slightly as I pushed my way through the crowd of gapping detectives to the injured demigod, grabbing him around the waist as he almost fell. This seemed to be enough to spring the detective agency into motion as they finally moved out of the way, creating a path for the pair of us to walk through back to the Agency building's door.
"Aw, Chibi better be careful," Dazai sing - songed as he leaned his weight onto me, trusting me to take it, our sides pressed close enough that I was sure he must have heard my racing heart, concern filling every step even as I knew logically that the bastard had faced much worse than this at a much younger age. "You almost seem like you care."
"Shut up," I growled like the dog that he always accused me of being.
Their doctor - Yosano maybe - followed behind us, clearly intending to go with the pair of us up to the Agency and treat the idiot's wound herself, but was stopped by another's voice.
"No," the bandage waste said suddenly, clearly knowing exactly who the footsteps trailing behind us belong to without even having to look, and what she intended to do. "I'll treat it on my own, Yosano."
I had expected the doctor to protest, to put up some sort of fight, but all the woman did was sigh in a way that screamed of defeat as she mumbled numerous obscenities under her breath and pushed ahead of us. "I'll go and unlock everything in advance then, save some time."
I knew then that the doctor was much too used to Dazai's particular brand of medical habits, which was to say that he tended to avoid doctors and anyone that wanted to look beneath his bandages as if they were some sort of plague.
As if they were gods offering immortality.
The doctor hurried up the stairs and had everything set up by the time that we reached, me having to all but drag the younger man as he complained about pain that I knew from experience that he hastily felt at all. The most annoying part for him was most likely the blade still in the detective's side.
Three more sets of footsteps followed our ascent up the stairs, but we didn't acknowledge them. Didn't have to when it hardly took any sort of genius to guess who they belonged to.
I knew then that it was going to be a long night, and we hadn't even removed the knife yet.
Damn Dazai.