Chapter Text
Scanning through the mess of debris, destruction, and the black fog coating the air, Dazai let out a breath of utter relief when a strand of familiar ginger hair caught his eye. He almost fell in his desperate running, a very alarmed Atsushi calling his name from behind.
“Dazai-san?” Atsushi called, running after his mentor who had abruptly stopped in front of the ruins of a building. “Dazai-san are you oka-” He stopped suddenly when he noticed the body almost buried under the remains, lying face down with only one arm and the back of his head visible.
“Atsushi-kun I need you to use your strength to get him out while I contact Yosano” Atsushi immediately snapped to action at the dead-serious tone in his voice. Dazai didn’t miss a beat before taking out his phone. His fingers pulled his tan coat anxiously while he waited for the call to connect.
“Dazai?” the doctor asked with a sigh, “listen I am busy treating everyone so if this is not important I swear I will kill you knowing I can’t revive-”
“I need your ability right now, he is about to die,” Dazai said, his normally neutral tone cracking at the end, “it is urgent, Yosano-sensei”
Yosano wanted to ask who he was talking about, or why was he so important that she needed to run all the way to the other side of the destruction to help him, but at the slight panic in Dazai’s voice all of her questions died in her mouth.
“I will be there in two minutes, hold on”, with a glance in Ranpo’s direction and a nod that reassure her that he understood, she took off running in the direction she knew Dazai and Atsushi were covering.
Even though Atsushi knew, deep down, that his mentor was a good person, he also knew that he could be egotistical and lack empathy most of the time. For this very reason, the last thing Atsushi expected after Dazai hung up the call was for him to kneel next to where Atsushi was working and start moving the small pieces of rubble. They had been working all day in retrieving the victims in the aftermath of the battle, still, Dazai had remained uninterested in all the other victims, constantly pushing Atsushi to move faster.
It almost looked like he was looking for someone, but if everyone in the agency was okay, then who…?
“Chibi?” Dazai asked suddenly, the word soft as a whisper, “Chibi hold on, Yosano is on her way”
Atsushi ignored his rambling in order to pull one big piece of concrete that was covering the person’s legs. Throwing it to the side he took a second for himself as he checked the body for any signs of breathing. But the body was dead still, face still facing the ground.
“Dazai-san I don’t think he is breathing…” he said softly. He kneeled next to Dazai, slowly turning the body around.
It took less than one second for Atsushi to put a name to that face.
Nakahara Chuuya, Gravity Manipulator, Port Mafia Executive.
Even with the crumpled clothing, the strange red burned marks circling his arms and face, and the dirt on his body it was easy to recognize the now dulled blue eyes that stared at nothing.
Atsushi covered his mouth to silence the helpless whimper that escaped him. Next to him, Dazai had gone eerily still.
A hand on his shoulder from behind forced him to move aside while Yosano took over, inspecting the body for any sign of life. At her presence, Dazai seemed to shake back to life, he took a step back so he was no longer touching Chuuya’s body, not wanting to prevent Yosano’s ability from working.
Both Atsushi and Dazai followed her movements with their eyes, waiting for her power to spring into action. After what felt like an eternity she deflated, her eyes somber when she turned around.
“He’s been dead for at least an hour” she concluded, “You know I can’t bring back the dead”
“He is not dead,” Dazai said easily, “but he will be if you don’t use your ability”
Atsushi turned to him, alarmed.
“Dazai-san what do you mean? He isn’t breathing”, taking a step closer to the body Atsushi confirmed what he and Yosano saw. Chuuya was pale, blue eyes almost gray, his body completely still.
“Arahabaki is still in there” Dazai murmured, almost to himself. At the silent response of both his companions he shook his head and pointed to the body, “His ability is still there, he can’t be dead”.
Atsushi turned again, narrowing his eyes as he distinguished the faint red glow surrounding Chuuya.
“It’s normal for abilities to remain activated for a while after the body dies,” Yosano said, but her tone had gone a bit softer.
“Not Chuuya’s” Dazai insisted stubbornly. He pushed Yosano lightly towards the body, “You need to cure him now, Yosano”
“Dazai I’m telling you there is nothing to cure,” she said, the exasperation and tiredness showing in her tone.
Atsushi was about to interfere when a burst of blinding red light blinded him from where Chuuya’s body was located. He hurriedly took a couple of steps back as the light slowly left Chuuya’s body, forming a black and red spiraling orb that, in Atsushi’s opinion, look dangerous and quite menacing.
“No” Dazai simply said, and then hurried after the orb that was floating through the wreckage, “No, no, no!”
Yosano and Atsushi exchanged glances before running after Dazai. They both stopped to watch Dazai climb a mountain of rubble, on top of which the mysterious orb floated.
“Dazai? What in all hell is happening?” Yosano asked as she was already climbing after him. Either in his haze to reach the thing or simply because he wanted to, he ignored her.
“Shitty Dazai! Stop bothering Yosano and get your ass to work!” Atsushi heard Kunikida screamed from a distance.
“What is he doing?” Kenji’s curious voice followed.
But Dazai didn’t turn to answer either of them. Instead, he fell to his knees on top of the mountain, hand extended as if trying to reach the light. Atsushi made his way up to him, concern clearly shown on his face. He was halfway up when red light filled his vision. It lasted barely a second, and when he blinked again, the muted colors of the late afternoon were all that remain.
In the aftermath, everyone was silent. Atsushi counted close to a minute when suddenly a voice broke the tension. But it wasn’t Yosano’s or Kunikida’s, not even Dazai’s finally explaining what the hell just happened, it was…
“Is that a child?” Yosano asked, tone full of disbelief as she climbed to the top faster.
Atsushi followed after her, and he could hear both Kunikida and Kenji nearing after them. Yosano was the first to reach the top and Atsushi sighed in relief because surely she would pick up the child and stop their wailing.
But all she screamed was “What is happening?” before taking a step back.
When Atsushi finally reached them he nearly fell back down to the bottom with what he saw. It was a little girl, not older than 6 years old from what he could tell. She was screaming in agony, a red glow around her body while, furious burn marks covered both her arms and legs, black orbs radiated from her hands. With an unconscious movement of her hand, one of the orbs exploded half a mile away from them. When Atsushi looked back, another bomb was already forming in her hands.
He looked back to Yosano, but she was busy shaking a non-responsive Dazai back into action.
“Dazai-san!” Atsushi pleaded, “you need to help her!”
“Atsushi!” Kunikida’s voice called him from the bottom, “what is that?”
“I-I don’t know!” he answered, gaze fixed on the girl, “She is in pain! And-”
A loud smack cut his explanation off. When he turned around he notice Yosano’s hand up in the air, Dazai’s face handprinted red.
“Dazai, we need you back,” Yosano said, not screaming but with a firm voice.
Slowly, the man nodded. Without even standing he inched forward, hand reaching for the girl that was a couple of steps ahead. When his palm made contact, a familiar blue light exploded around them.
The angry red light disappeared, and the burn marks on the girl's body slowly retreated. Atsushi sighed with relief, eyes closing for a bit.
“She is not going to survive,” Dazai said calmly, arm retreating as he stood up. Yosano launched herself towards the girl at those words, the lilac glow of her ability already activating. Atsushi watched as Dazai slide down the rubble making his way back to where Chuuya’s body had been abandoned.
“Dazai?” Kunikida asked as he passed by.
“I will be taking my paid vacation for a week, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai said, lowering himself next to Chuuya’s body.
“You don’t have any paid vacation days left, Dazai” Kunikida answered automatically, clear confusion on his face.
“Oh, well” He retreated from the body but didn’t turn to face them “I’m okay with not getting paid then” Just like that he walked away from them.
“Shitty Dazai, where do you think you are go-?”
“Kunikida-san” Atsushi interrupted. When the man looked up at him, Atsushi shook his head.
Next to him, Kenji had made his way to the top and was now next to Yosano eyeing the sleeping girl. Yosano looked tired, drained beyond belief.
“I will have to treat her again” she explained, “she is not cured yet”
“So she is coming back with us?” Kenji asked eagerly.
“Atsushi, go tell the president and the other about the current situation, the Tanizaki siblings were finalizing the transportation of survivors to the hospital las time I checked” Atsushi nodded, standing up to clean the dirt of his clothes. “Kenji, stay and help Yosano with everything she needs, no playing with the girl.” Kenji exclaimed an affirmative, while Yosano’s attention focused back to the girl. “I’ll go contact the Port Mafia, they need to know we found their missing executive”
“What about Dazai-san?” Kenji asked, gaze following the path by which Dazai had left.
“He will come back” Atsushi reassured him, “he just needs time”.
It took Dazai three weeks to come back to Yokohama and when he did, it was to answer the summon of Ozaki Kouyou.
But, if anyone in the Agency asked, he would probably tell them he had the time of his life with some pretty girl in the Bahamas.
In reality, Dazai has never felt as drained as he did right now. He reminded himself that he only needed to hold on for a bit longer, just close off some unfinished business, and then he would finally rest.
He had ignored every single phone call or text message from everyone at the agency. He shot President Fukuzawa a short message requesting a few weeks off, but he didn’t even open the chat to see what the man answered.
Dazai was in a cheap hotel room when it happened, a bowl of instant noodles in one hand, a bottle of sake in the other. In front of him were the pulverized remains of three complete tablets of pills (the book said two, but he wanted to be completely sure that it would work). Along with that, he put aside two sleeping pills (he wanted to pass away in his sleep to avoid pain).
He took a moment to prepare himself, absentmindedly gazing to his bed, where a familiar hat rested. Gaze dropping back to his food, he gulped half the bottle of sake, spoon dipping into the bowl.
He was so immersed in the process that he almost didn’t notice the ringing of his phone. And Dazai was a lot of things, but he was far from stupid. He remembered clearly muting his phone, turning all of his notifications off.
But that specific ringtone was one he never got himself to silence. Not even after he defected the Mafia and changed his phone, he cautiously copied the number to his new device, assigning a special ringtone to it.
He was never going to call first, but he would always answer.
Dazai knocked over both the soup bowl and the sake bottle in his rush to the phone. He knew it was impossible, and he was aware of the disappointment he would get once he answered. But in the end, who knew Dazai Osamu was capable of hoping?
When he answered, he tried to talk. To say his name, spat a bitter comment to whoever was calling, but his throat was dry.
“Dazai?” A female voice answered. Dazai deflated because it was the wrong voice, the wrong name, and the wrong tone.
“Executive Kouyou” he answered, bitterness dropping in every word. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries, I am extremely limited on time,” she paused for a second, when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper, “I need your presence in my brothel as soon as possible, it is of the utmost urgency.”
“And what should interest me enough to cut my vacation short in order to please your request?” Neutral tone opposing the anxious tapping of his fingers on the table.
“The only thing that ever concerned both of us enough to get along,” she answered simply, “please refrain from making a scene when you come” she added and hung up.
Which in Kouyou’s speech translates to: Mori doesn’t know I’m calling, be discreet.
Dazai remained still for a while after that, phone still raised up to his ear. Part of him wanted to laugh at Kouyou’s audacity believing he will attend her summon, but the bigger part of him knew that he would go either way.
Dazai was blaming it on his curiosity, he could go on ignoring the tiny voice in his head whispering how wrong he was for a while longer.
Seeing no use in his suicide plans any longer he casually slipped on his coat, packed his wallet and phone, and left the room.
It took him two days to get back to the city and, when he did, he waited until dawn to infiltrate Kouyou’s brothel. As expected, Kouyou was the one to open the window to her office when he tapped on it.
“Lock the window,” she ordered while making her way to the door and doing the same.
Dazai flicked the lock and turned to face the room, narrowing his eyes at the abundance of red tones.
He definitely knew where Chuuya got his terrible style from.
Aside from the questionable coloring scheme the room was spacious and refined. A big, dark oak desk was located nearing a wall (as any well-trained executive of the Mafia, Kouyou knew the stupidity of placing a desk in front of a window). In the center of the room, two large dark red colored couches occupied the room, a long oak table dividing them. One of the walls was covered with books and archives, most of them locked behind a glass door. On the opposing wall was a display of ridiculously fancy katanas, varying from all colors to sizes. In front of the two big windows and in the exact place Dazai was now sitting was a big oak cabinet, a gift Dazai knew was from Chuuya (he clearly recalls 17 years old Chuuya screaming at Dazai and trying to move the cabinet with his ability while he threatened to touch him and let the piece of furniture fall) and that Kouyou used to stock an absurd variety of teas.
“Get off my furniture and sit on the couch like the well-taught gentleman you are,” Kouyou snapped.
“Pardon me, Ane-san” Dazai mocked but stopped abruptly when he noticed the way Kouyou tensed up.
He made his way to the couch, giving the woman some time to compose herself. Dazai was never a generous man, less of all to Kouyou Ozaki of all people, but that was a big raw wound on both of their souls and Dazai dreaded the moment she would retaliate.
“Why did you summon me?” He asked instead, quickly masking his face back before she could detect any trace of regret in him. She didn’t offer him a cup of tea like Dazai knew she always did with Chuuya or his other more welcomed guests.
“You weren’t at the funeral,” she said simply.
“Why would I assist? Why would I surround myself willingly in a room with people that want me dead? The Agency and the Mafia may be in that silly alliance everyone likes to talk about but Mori is still the boss and I am still a traitor”
“The tiger kid and Kyouka were there” she continued.
“Atsushi has a heart too big for his sake, and Kyouka knew Chuuya so sure, makes sense” he added to his mental notes to reprimand Atsushi for putting himself in enemy territory so irresponsibly.
“Did you enjoy terrorizing the staff in that hotel room of yours?” Dazai knew someone was watching him, he just didn’t care enough to investigate.
“I did, actually, sadly you ruined that” he put his feet over the table and crossed them, an deliberate action to piss her off, “and for what, may I ask? To question why I didn’t go out of my way to see the body of a rotting slug? I know we never particularly got along, Kouyou,” he said, purposely dropping the honorific, “but I would like to believe you know me well enough not to make me waste time on obvious questions.”
“There wasn’t a body to see anyway,” at her cold tone, Dazai snapped back to attention. “The casket was completely sealed off, Mori said it was because the body was in such a bad condition that it would be disturbing,” even while rambling, Kouyou’s voice was confident and composed.
The image of Chuuya, broken legs, big gashes on his body, corruption burn marks covering his body, flickered in his mind at the reminder. “Mori was right, it wasn’t a pretty sight” he confirmed, “you should count yourself lucky you didn’t have to see the chibi in all his dying grace.”
Kouyou processed the information in silence and Dazai thought for a second that he would be finally dismissed, but then she shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.
“There was no body in that casket” she stated.
“I would hope grief is not affecting that brain of yours,” he said cruelly, but Koyou ignored him as she proceeded.
“I help carrying it, the weight was off,” she said as if this was the most incriminating piece of evidence.
“Bodies tend to vary their weight while decomposing, you know this Kouyou, your hands are far from clean,” he said, uninterested.
“It was way off,” she insisted, “the distribution was all wrong, Ryuunosuke Akutagawa can confirm this, he mentioned it to me after the funeral”
As unreliable as Akutagawa could be, him mentioning something like that to Kouyou instead of just keeping it to himself was out of character and worth getting a bit worried over.
“So your evidence is that the distribution of the weight in a casket, with a decomposing body, was weird? Are you listening to yourself Kouyou?” he asked.
“That’s not the only evidence I have” she stated. Abruptly she stood up, making her way to the desk and unlocking one of the side cabinets. She retrieved a sealed envelope, giving it to offering it to Dazai but not letting go when he tried to take it. “Don’t open it here, find a safe place, read it, then burn it” she ordered.
Dazai rolled his eyes, “don’t treat me like I am new to this.”
“I need you to confirm that casket was empty,” she said, already on her way to opening the window again. Dazai stood up, understanding he was about to be dismissed. “Don’t contact me until you find something useful.”
Dazai looked at her dead in the eye, “He is dead Kouyou” he remind her, a tiny voice adding that he was also reminding himself.
“I know he is,” she said, letting out a puff of breath.
“This is useless,” he insisted, “why should I waste time on this? It’s just a body.”
“Chuuya once told me you rambled non-stop about how you wanted him to plan your funeral,” she said and Dazai quickly mask the flicker of surprise on his face, “pity you never gave him the chance to do the same,” with that, she locked the window and pulled the curtains closed.
The envelope burned in his hand.
He would like to say that he was coherent enough to follow Kouyou’s advice and open the envelope in a private place, but the small, more prominent part of him decided that opening it in the ADA headquarters would be the perfect middle ground between spitting her and keeping the information safe.
So he waited until the next day, making his way into the Agency as if he hadn’t been missing for the last three weeks. He let Kunikida’s scolding fill as background noise, answering with a nod to the shy smile Atsushi shot his way.
“Kunikida-kun, stop yelling or your voice will die before you turn 30” Dazai whined, making his way confident to the President’s office, “Is the president here?” he asked no one in particular.
Kunikida choose to answer, “he is, but contrary to you he is a busy man who attends to his responsibilities, you can’t just disturb him…” Once again, Dazai unfocused his voice as his hand trembled over the doorknob.
The closed envelope weighed a pound in his coat. But he had already made a decision, the content on the folder would do nothing to put that off.
In the end, President Fukuzawa opened the door for him, “Were you planning to come in?” he asked, tone as neutral and calming as always.
There was a very limited list of people Dazai truly admired and respected, but on that selected group, Yukichi Fukuzawa was awfully close to the top. The President of the Armed Detective Agency was composed and organized, he talked with confidence and radiated a style of leadership that make people believe in themselves. Aside from that, he was also reserved, compassionate and kind. Dazai can’t say he personally finds a lot of value in those traits, although he could respect them in the man that constantly proves to him how negative Mori’s influence in his youth had been. Even if Dazai was not a fan of the ‘what ifs’ he constantly found himself wondering, how different would his life be if it had been Fukuzawa who found him when he was 14 years old? Maybe then Chuuya-
“Yes, President, if you have the time to spare,” he said respectfully.
The President moved to the side to let him in and Dazai stepped into the room at a slow pace, quietly sitting down on the chair in front of the desk and waiting for Fukuzawa to take the one at the other side.
“How was your time off?” the President asked cordially.
“As well as it could have been,” Dazai answered briefly. Something about Fukuzawa made him want to speak honestly. Not enough to open himself like a book, but enough to pull the comedic facet off.
“Your visits to my office are never what I would call conventional, Dazai, but they always end well in the end,” he considered. With a sigh, Fukuzawa locked eyes with Dazai as he ask, “Why then do I feel that whatever you are here to tell me is not going to be to my liking this time?”
“That would be because I came to tell you that I am resigning from the Armed Detective Agency,” he said, every trace of hesitation hidden deep inside him.
Fukuzawa couldn’t hide his surprise in the raise of an eyebrow, a soft sigh leaving his mouth, “Is that so?” he asked, and at Dazai’s silent nod he continued, “may I ask why?”
“Is just not what I want to dedicate my life to,” he answered ambiguously, “I can stay a month, so you’ll be able to finalize any paperwork required, and I will also make sure to close any case I was assigned to. Atsushi finalized his training a while back and no longer requires my guidance, I am sure he and Kunikida will be able to accommodate my absence.”
“You are not as expendable as you believe you are, Dazai,” the Presidente murmured softly. Dazai let him consider in silence, gaze straight ahead but not really observing anything as he waited, “Very well, I see you have already made up your mind. You will stay a month, I have one final case for you during that time.”
“A final case?” he asked, a bit of curiosity in his tone, “what could it possibly be that the others can’t attend to it?” he questioned.
“Lyra” he simply said, his hand disappearing into one of the cabinets to pull out a file and show it to Dazai.
Dazai inched forward on his chair, reading the information on the file at a quick pace. His eyes widen when he recognized the information.
“She is still here?” he asked, hand extended to turn the page.
“She is still incapacitated,” the President confirmed, “Hasn’t been able to leave the infirmary for more than a day.”
“How did she even survive?” He wondered to himself out loud, and Fukuzawa answered.
“Yosano needed to use her ability 5 times on her the first time, she was asleep for a whole week after,” he signaled a text box in the files for Dazai to read, “whatever happened to her on the cleanout of the wreckage is still reactivating from time to time. We managed to identify a pattern as every time she loses control over her emotions, either positive or negative.”
“How could you possibly stop her? The only way I know of…” His eyes were glued to the information on the files, a million different train thoughts forming in his mind.
“Yosano has been torturing and reviving her in order to stop it before it gets too far,” Fukuzawa confessed solemnly, “It is torture, both for Yosano and Lyra-chan. But you can help with that, your ability was able to stop her the first time. And I also have a slightly fundamented theory that you know more about this than you are letting off. This is your last mission, Dazai, help this little girl.”
“There is no way she can survive this,” he said honestly, “she is way too young, it consumed Chuuya in his adulthood, how could she survive?”
“What does Nakahara Chuuya has to do with this?” Fukuzawa asked.
Dazai was glad for the whole three minutes of silence he granted him while deciding how much information to reveal.
“Chuuya was the vessel of a god named Arahabaki,” he stated simply, his face fighting his heart to suppress the rush of anger and hate towards the god, “When Chuuya activated the full extent of his power, Arahabaki took over him, destroying everything on his way, including his body. I was the only known method to contain Arahabaki and bring Chuuya back.”
“The incident with Tatsuhiko Shibusawa…?”
“I didn’t reach him on time” Dazai admitted, the words cutting deeper than the knife that bastard and Fyodor had stabbed him with.
“So after Nakahara died…this God chose another vessel, resulting in the little girl?” President Fukuzawa was not stupid, and Dazai was glad he inferred that instead of forcing him out of his mouth.
“Yes, that is exactly what happened,” he confirmed, “She is activating her corrupted form every time she has a strong mood swing, I don’t know how Chuuya was capable of controlling that. She will eventually die of Yosano’s strain on her little body or by activating corruption by accident when no one is near her. She is doomed.”
“But if you were to be there to stop her from activating her power…” Fukuzawa hinted.
“You are asking me to babysit her?” Dazai asked with a humorless laugh.
“Only for a month,” Fukuzawa confirmed, “just enough for us to work on figuring another method.”
Dazai contemplated the request in silence, gaze fixated on the small picture of the girl at the side of the file.
Dazai wanted nothing to do with Arahabaki. Actually, if he had to choose, he wanted to be involved in helping the god disappear from this world painfully. There was nothing stopping him from killing this girl and figuring out a way to trap Arahabaki.
Still, at her age, she saw Oda’s orphans, and in her situation, she saw Chuuya’s struggles.
“Only for a month,” he agreed with a sigh, “but I won’t feed her, or change her diapers if she still needs those disgusting things.”
“She is almost 5, Dazai,” Fukuzawa cleared, a small smile on his lips.
“That means nothing to me, I know nothing about children and their demon antics.”
At Fukuzawa’s order, Dazai made his way to the infirmary after he was done discussing details with the President. He quickly felt for the envelope, promising to check its contents after his talk with Yosano. With a soft exhale, he pushed the door open.
“Dazai?” Yosano asked as she noticed him, relief flooding her face, “good to see you got bored of lacking off” she mentioned casually.
“The charm won’t last long, Yosano-sensei, so you better take advantage while you can,” he answered playfully. Once he was standing next to her, he said, “I was assigned to protect the girl, the President updated me on the situation.”
Yosano nodded, lips pulling tight and eyes somber. “Her name is Carmen Lyra. We know nothing about his father, her mother was a registered ability user, her body was discovered after the fog incident.”
“The fog didn’t affect her?” he wondered, “is she not an ability user?”
“Aside from the uncontrolled destructive power, not that we know of, she hasn’t manifested any other ability, but then again, she hasn’t been awake long enough to do it,” she looked back to the file, “due to her name we are guessing she is from somewhere in Latin America. We are still trying to trace any other family members.”
Dazai nodded, absorbing the information silently.
“She last activated the destruction yesterday, I was able to stop her in time,” Yosano looked at the clock on the wall, “She should be close to waking up.”
Dazai sighed, pulling the curtain away to reveal the body of the girl in the infirmary bed. Her skin was soft golden brown, long and curly dark brown hair framed her face. She looked extremely small and fragile, although Dazai didn’t know if that was just a collateral effect of the constant strain on her body.
“How was business at the agency?” Dazai asked conversationally, taking a seat next to the girl's bed.
“Not very active,” Yosano said, “I have been busy treating her, most of the other have spent just running errands for things I need.” Dazai noted her eyeing him from the side, “Kyouka and Atsushi attended the executive’s funeral.”
“Atsushi and Kyouka should know better than to go willingly into that den of snakes,” he answered, neutrality masking his face.
“Kyouka said Nakahara was like a big brother to her for a while, Atsushi went with her in case anything went south.”
Even though he knew Kyouka and Chuuya knew each other, Dazai didn’t know they were that close. Now that the information was unlocked though, it made perfect sense in his mind. Both of them were rigorously raised by Kouyou, weaponized as kids for their abilities.
“It is good that his assistance wasn’t necessary then” he answered shortly, gaze fixated on the girl in bed.
With a sigh, Yosano cut around the bush, “We never knew you were close to Nakahara.”
“He was a slug glued to my shoe, we worked together in the mafia, nothing more to it” he could feel himself disassociating.
“...If you say so,” Yosano said carefully, “but if you ever want to talk about…”
Before she could finish, the beeping of the heart rate motor became more insistent and disorganized.
“She’s waking up,” Yosano said, rushing to the other side of the bed to check the equipment. Meanwhile, Dazai stood up from his chair, patiently waiting for the girl to come to her senses.
When she finally opened her eyes she was facing Yosano, but Dazai could easily detect the beginning of panic by the sound of the heart monitor. He quickly reached to grab her small arm, blue light immediately surrounding them as he forced Arahabaki to retreat.
At the touch she turned around in alarm, finally facing Dazai.
He had read the file with her physical description, he even saw her picture in it. Still, he wasn’t prepared for the way it hit him when her eyes settled on him.
Her eyes were blue. Deep blue like that area where the night sky met the moon. Blue that reminded Dazai of a familiar scowl, of sparks of competitiveness, of the hollowness after coming back from corruption.
Her eyes were Chuuya’s blue.