Work Text:
The apartment felt empty.
The apartment always felt empty these days. Chuuya tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and walked into the bedroom, where his bed was still made. He hadn’t slept in two days. Something to do with cleaning up the aftermath of Mimic. Dazai sent him on a wild chase throughout the city.
He tossed his coat and hat on the bed and took out his phone. Of course, Dazai hadn’t answered any of his texts or calls. Chuuya didn’t want to worry, but he felt a tight ball of anxiety in his chest. Dazai was awful about answering messages, but usually after a few hours he would send something, even if it was just an infuriating one-word response.
Two days of silence.
Dazai was a lot of things, but he was never silent.
A crash made him drop his phone. He spun around just as two men barrelled into the hallway and through his door.
He recognized them as Port Mafia. Mori’s guards. Chuuya stared at them. Their guns were pointed his way.
“Come with us,” one of them said. “Boss Mori wants to see you.”
“Why the guns, huh?” Chuuya asked, trying to hold back nervous laughter. “He could’ve just asked.”
The guards were unmoved.
“Fine.” Chuuya reached for his coat, but one of the guards moved forward, yanking his arms behind his back. The other began patting him down.
Ordinarily, Chuuya would have protested. He could have killed these guards in two seconds flat, and the ones likely stationed outside of his apartment would be just as easy to deal with. But he didn’t want to kill Port Mafia men, and he wondered if this was some weird test sent by Dazai to annoy the crap out of him.
His gun and two knives were tossed carelessly to the floor. They all knew it didn’t matter. Chuuya could break bones with his bare hands.
The guards shoved him into the hallway and marched him to the door. Outside, several more guards were stationed. Chuuya rolled his eyes as he passed, his lip curling in annoyance. Being able to sleep would have been nice, but apparently Dazai couldn’t give him the luxury of rest.
He felt slight surprise when he realized, in the elevator of the Port Mafia’s headquarters, that the guards were taking him to Mori’s office rather than Dazai’s. His mind raced, wondering what exactly he could have done. He still didn’t have an answer when the guards marched him inside. Two remained, flanking him as he stood in front of Mori’s desk.
Mori smiled up at him, but Chuuya could tell that the smile was a facade. Something dangerous flashed in Mori’s eyes, and his voice held a barely restrained emotion that Chuuya couldn’t quite make out.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, Dazai-kun has decided to take his leave of the Port Mafia.”
Chuuya burst out laughing. The guards’ grip on him tightened when he tried to raise his arm to cover his mouth.
“Is this amusing, Chuuya-kun?” Mori asked quietly.
Chuuya choked down the rest of his laughter. “S-sorry, did you say he left? The Port Mafia? For what?”
“I don’t know,” Mori said, his eyes locking with Chuuya’s. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Huh? That’s a joke,” Chuuya scoffed. “The bastard never tells me anything.” Still, he felt the heaviness in his chest grow as Mori’s words truly registered. Dazai had left. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” Mori said. “Your newest purchase has been destroyed, by the way.”
His newest purchase? His-- “My car?!” Chuuya cried, struggling to free himself. “Why the hell?”
“It seems he wanted to send you a message,” Mori said. “Chuuya-kun, you were Dazai’s partner.”
“I am his partner,” Chuuya said.
Mori stood up, and Chuuya realized his mistake. His mouth went dry, but he couldn’t take the words back. He still didn’t know what Mori meant. Dazai wouldn’t have left. Dazai didn’t have anything to go to.
“As his partner,” Mori continued, walking around his desk so that he could stand in front of Chuuya, looking down at him, “you shared everything, correct?”
“No,” Chuuya said. “That’s not how it was.”
“Take him to the back room,” Mori said to the guards. “Chuuya-kun, we’re going to have a little chat.”
“Why can’t we have it here, Boss?” Chuuya asked.
Mori merely offered him a razor sharp smile in response.
The guards led him to a door behind Mori’s desk. One of them punched in a code and it opened, revealing what looked like a hospital room.
Chuuya allowed the guards to strip off his jacket, waistcoat, and remove his gloves. They forced him onto the metal table and tied down his wrists and ankles with leather straps. Then they left.
Mori appeared a few minutes later, having traded his black coat for his labcoat. He closed the door behind him and reached into his pocket, revealing his scalpel.
Chuuya struggled to keep his breathing even.
“I trust you, Chuuya-kun,” Mori said as his eyes swept over Chuuya’s body. “But we all know how Dazai is. I want to make sure you haven’t been...corrupted by him.”
“Corrupted,” Chuuya repeated.
Mori grabbed the collar of Chuuya’s shirt and studied it for a moment. Then, with a swift movement, he sliced his scalpel through the buttons. The shirt fell open and Chuuya suppressed a shiver as his skin was exposed to the cold air.
“He never said anything to you about his plans, did he?” Mori asked. Chuuya shook his head. “Hmm. How unlike him, not to warn his partner about his plans?”
“Dazai never warned me about anything,” Chuuya said. His voice came out steady, thankfully.
“Have you ever had surgery, Chuuya-kun?”
Chuuya blinked. Mori’s switch in topics had his head reeling.
“You haven’t, have you?” Mori continued. “Your scars are all the result of being in the field. I would have known, with the exception of any medical procedures performed on you at a very young age. Well, I’ll explain what will happen to you now.”
“Boss,” Chuuya swallowed. Suddenly, his restrains felt too tight. “I don’t know anything about that idiot. I didn’t know he left until you told me.”
“I believe you, Chuuya-kun,” Mori said. He turned away, placing his scalpel on a metal tray near the bed and picking up something else. Chuuya craned his head to see what Mori was doing, but Mori’s back blocked his view. “That said, your loyalty and close relationship to your former partner does present some problems.”
“I’m loyal to the Port Mafia,” Chuuya said. He turned his head to look at the ceiling. There were no tiles to count. The ceiling was pure white.
“We have the means to find Dazai,” Mori told him.
Chuuya didn’t say anything. Of course they did.
“However,” Mori added, “we are choosing not to at this time. Chuuya-kun, please listen carefully.” He appeared in Chuuya’s field of vision, holding a syringe. “In this syringe is a medication commonly used for surgery. A paralytic. Once injected, it will paralyze the muscles so that you will be unable to move.”
Chuuya’s eyes followed as Mori took his wrist and examined it. His breath quickened. He knew that Mori wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say. He had a feeling this had nothing to do with whether or not Dazai had told him anything. Even if Dazai had mentioned leaving in the past, it didn’t matter now. He was gone.
Mori slid the needle into Chuuya’s vein and depressed the plunger. Chuuya felt a tingling sensation spread up his arm, and his breath caught in his throat. Mori let his arm fall back onto the table and discarded the syringe. In its place, he picked up his scalpel.
“Ordinarily,” he said, “this drug will be combined with others. One to relax you, which will also affect your memory should you wake up during the procedure, and one to put you to sleep. Those won’t be necessary.”
Chuuya tried to move his hand, but he couldn’t. His brain told his muscles to do one thing, but they didn’t listen and remained stubbornly still. Panic seized him, and he couldn’t do a single thing.
Mori hummed and pressed two gloved fingers against Chuuya’s throat. “You’re nervous, understandably. I would feel the same in your position. But this is necessary, Chuuya-kun. We wouldn’t want any more unrest within the organization.”
He lowered the scalpel to a point just below Chuuya’s sternum. “You can’t speak, but you don’t need to. I’m afraid this will be a one-sided conversation.”
The scalpel sank into Chuuya’s skin, splitting it open with a pulling, burning sensation that made Chuuya want to scream. His voice stuck in his throat as Mori dragged the scalpel down his abdomen. He would have done anything to be able to twist away from the white hot pain of his skin being sliced open, but he couldn’t. His body remained still, and the only change in the room was his harsh breathing.
“You have feelings for Dazai,” Mori said. “Until recent months, you two spent almost all of your time together. I allowed this because your partnership depended on your trust for Dazai. After all, if you didn’t trust him, you would never use Corruption.”
He reached his gloved hands into the incision and Chuuya felt the horrible sensation of his insides being shifted around. The sight of Mori’s hands disappearing into the bloody hole of his stomach made him feel dizzy, and spots danced in his field of vision.
“Of course,” Mori continued, “now you can’t use Corruption. This is troublesome, and it certainly diminishes your worth in the field, but you have other uses. My concern is these feelings that you seem to have developed. How am I to know that if Dazai came back, or asked you to spy on the organization for him, you wouldn’t give in?”
If Chuuya could talk, he would have begged Mori to stop. He would have insisted that he would be loyal. But a creeping doubt took hold in the back of his head. If Dazai asked him to leave, would he? If Dazai needed help, would Chuuya give him aid? Even now, after Dazai left without a word, did Chuuya care?
He didn’t know. He hadn’t had time to think.
White hot pain exploded in his stomach, and Chuuya couldn’t scream. Tears streamed from his eyes, soaking into his hair, creating damp spots at the back of his head. He wanted to curl in on himself, to do anything to stop this relentless pain, but Mori didn’t let him.
Instead, he took something and placed it in Chuuya’s abdomen. Chuuya felt a strange heaviness in his stomach. He tried to process what Mori was doing but his vision started to white out again when Mori took a needle to his insides and began sewing them up.
“Here is something you should know about Dazai,” Mori said, his tone still conversational. “Dazai never cared about anything other than your usefulness to him. In the end, I can tell you that he only cared about one person in this organization. He left for the sake of that person. I suspect that you know this already.”
Mori removed his hands from Chuuya’s stomach, his gloves soaked in blood. He started threading Chuuya’s wound shut. Chuuya felt each and every pull of the needle and thread through his skin, felt each puncture. He had stitched himself up before, but this felt different. His stomach burned.
“I wonder just how useless it is to be having this conversation,” Mori said. “After all, I don’t have the power to stop you caring about your partner. We engineered your relationship so that you would linked, and it worked a little too well for you. But know this, Chuuya-kun.”
Mori’s eyes met Chuuya’s and he smiled. “If you leave the Port Mafia, or aid Dazai in any way, I will kill him. He has his uses outside of our organization, but do not think for a moment that I lack the means to find and dispose of him. Whether he lives or dies is up to you.”
Chuuya could only stare back. Mori finished threading the wound and stepped away, peeling off his gloves. Then, to Chuuya’s shock, he undid the binds around Chuuya’s wrists and ankles.
“Guards will be here to return you to your quarters,” Mori said, heading for the door. “You have the next two days off.”
He left, and seconds later two guards came in and lifted Chuuya from the table, supporting him between them. A third grabbed Chuuya’s discarded clothes.
Chuuya hardly registered the return to his apartment. The guards tossed him in his bathtub and Chuuya slid into a prone position on his side, still unable to move. He heard the door slam, and then he was alone.
His stomach burned, heavy with something that Chuuya couldn’t name, but he had the sudden overwhelming desire to reopen Mori’s wound and claw it out. He couldn't move, and perhaps that was a good thing, because he had the feeling that he absolutely would have made an attempt.
He didn’t have his phone, but even if he did and if he could move he wasn’t sure if he would call for anyone. Who did he have to call? Kouyou, but Mori would find out right away. Akutagawa, who was probably in his own personal hell right now. Chuuya felt a pang of concern towards the younger subordinate. He didn’t have to deal with Chuuya’s issues when he had so many of his own.
Hirotsu, but Chuuya had no idea how close he and Mori actually were.
His stomach churned, the pain increasing. Chuuya’s face was sticky with dried tears, his entire front stained with blood. He groaned, and was surprised when the sound echoed off the bathroom tiles.
He tried twitching his fingers. That worked. His arm still wouldn’t move, but fingers were progress. The bathroom swam in his field of vision, like the air above pavement shimmering on a hot day. Chuuya couldn’t seem to focus. He felt like he weighed too much.
“Sit up.”
Chuuya tried to jerk his head towards the sound, but his neck still couldn't move. That voice sounded impossibly close, like someone standing right behind him, leaning forward to speak into his ear.
“You’re pathetic, you know that?”
Chuuya closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. His heart thudded hard in his chest, his pulse radiating throughout his entire body. He could feel each and every beat.
“You let him do this. You let him fuck you over like the dog of an abusive owner, just because he’s your master and you’re so goddamn loyal.”
Chuuya’s breath hissed out between his teeth. No. No. “No.”
Barely a whisper, but the voice laughed. “No? You let Mori tie you down and didn’t even protest when he cut you open.”
Chuuya’s stomach clenched, and he struggled to plant his hands on the bottom of the tub and push himself up. His arms shook. He had to leave. He had to get up.
Instead he retched, vomit spilling down his shirt and pooling at the bottom of the tub, soaking into his pants.
“Disgusting.”
Chuuya opened his eyes.
Dazai leaned against the rim of the tub, propped up on his elbows. His face twisted as he watched Chuuya struggle to right himself.
“You could have left. You could have killed Mori for what he did. And instead you chose to submit to him, to let him cut you open and do with you as he pleased. You’re like a child, Chuuya.”
Chuuya tried to speak. The words wouldn’t come. He wanted to explain himself, but there was no explanation. Dazai was right. He had let Mori do this to him. His stomach lurched again, and he gagged.
“You can’t even function on your own,” Dazai said. “I had to be there for you every time. You’re useless without me. You can’t control your most powerful asset. Is it really such a great thing, if you need someone else to do it for you?”
Chuuya struggled to raise his hand. He tried to throw a punch. His fist fell short, thudding against the side of the tub.
Dazai sneered. “I've wanted to say this for a long time, Chuuya. To let you know what I think of you. I couldn't pretend any more. I went to Odasaku because at least he had the balls to stay true to himself. He wouldn’t kill, and he wouldn’t let someone like Mori compromise his ideals. He worked alone, and he could take on an army by himself if he wanted to. No partner required.”
Odasaku. Chuuya swallowed.
“Odasaku didn’t follow orders like a blind idiot. He wasn’t stupid and he didn’t let his emotions cloud his judgement. But you, Chuuya. You could never control yourself. You let your feelings for me get in the way. That’s why Mori felt the need to do this. You can’t control yourself. You would have tried to follow me. You would destroy the whole organization if you had your way. Just because of something as silly as feelings.”
Chuuya shook his head head, despite the way it spun. That wasn’t true. He had controlled himself for years. Dazai leaned closer, his eyes taking up Chuuya's field of vision. Chuuya could hardly focus. Dazai’s eyes appeared red in this light, like the haze of Corruption in his head, like the blood staining his shirt.
“The worst part is, you didn’t get the hint,” Dazai murmured. “I could have said I loved you and it would have been a lie, but you would have believed me. Because you’re naive. You want to believe in people when you shouldn’t. You wanted to believe in us, when it never could have happened. People like you are the worst. You’ll live like a dog. You’ll beg your master for the right to live. And when you die, you’ll die at his feet believing that he saved you.”
“Why are you saying this?” Chuuya croaked.
Dazai shrugged. “I want you to know how pathetic you truly are.”
Chuuya gritted his teeth. “Fuck you,” he hissed. “You don’t know a thing.”
“I know you better than anyone,” Dazai said. “I was your partner.”
Chuuya closed his eyes. Mori’s words played over and over in his head, mixing with Dazai’s. Chuuya was loyal. Chuuya would have left with Dazai. Chuuya would be responsible for Dazai’s death if he stepped out of line. Chuuya would have stayed because the Mafia was his home.
He still had choices, even if they weren’t good ones.
He opened his eyes and Dazai was gone.
His stomach lurched again, and his head throbbed. His vision warped, like he was looking through a strange funhouse mirror. Mori had put something in his system, he realized as he threw up bile and dry heaved once there was nothing left. That must have been it.
Somehow, he managed to get his hand to hit the knob for the shower. Warm water poured over Chuuya’s body and ran dark into the drain. Chuuya sat under the spray, waiting for the spinning feeling to go away.
Loyal. Foolish. Chuuya pressed his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that wanted to escape from his throat. There had never been any doubt in his choice, because in the end, he’d stay just to keep Dazai alive.
That was what it meant to be a partner, after all.
*
Dazai felt pathetic, skulking around in the dark. He had felt a lot of things lately that he didn’t know he was capable of feeling.
His old partner left his apartment building. He stumbled over the threshold, almost falling. Dazai heard the curse that followed, even though he should have been too far away. Maybe he was imagining things, inserting what he thought should happen into a reality he no long was part of.
Chuuya didn’t know that as he walked towards Port Mafia headquarters, he was walking past Dazai, hidden in the shadows of an alley, watching.
Even from a distance, Dazai could see that Chuuya looked sick. He wondered if the strange thing he felt now was concern or guilt. Maybe it was both.
“Dazai-san.”
Dazai took a moment to turn, not wanting to give away any hint of surprise. When he did, he faced Hirotsu. The older man stood in a relaxed manner, hands folded in front of him.
“Here to turn me in?” Dazai asked with a lopsided grin.
“Not at all,” Hirotsu said. “I was simply on my way to visit Nakahara-san when I noticed you hiding here. It caught my interest, and it so happens that Nakahara-san didn’t need me to come around, after all.”
“Visit him?” Dazai repeated. “I didn’t know you and Chuuya were friends.”
“I was simply concerned,” Hirotsu said, “though now I see that I had no reason to be. Life, as they say, goes on.”
Dazai stuffed his hands in the pockets of his new jacket. “You want to ask me why I’m spying on Chuuya.”
“It crossed my mind, yes.”
“I don’t owe him an explanation,” Dazai said. “We don’t owe each other anything.”
“You were simply doing what was best for you,” Hirotsu said, his tone agreeable.
Dazai frowned. “Yes.”
“So why are you here?”
Dazai regarded Hirotsu. It was probably treason for him to be talking with Dazai right now, and Dazai had to respect him for having this conversation and trying to hear Dazai’s reasoning rather than fighting him simply because he was an enemy.
Whether or not he trusted the man was irrelevant. Even if this got back to Mori in the end, nothing about this conversation would affect how Dazai moved forward. He certainly wouldn’t give anything useful away.
“Why were you concerned about Chuuya in the first place?” he asked.
“He had been absent for a few days,” Hirotsu said. “Given his heavy involvement in most of the organization’s affairs, I found it strange that he would suddenly disappear. Even stranger that you would reappear.”
“I suppose so.” Dazai turned to glance at the street behind him. Chuuya had long gone. “I didn’t tell him anything.”
“Nothing?” Hirotsu only showed mild surprise.
“It’s better for him that way, isn’t it?” Dazai turned back to Hirotsu.
“But you blew up his car just to make sure,” Hirotsu said, his lips twitching.
“That was just fun,” Dazai said.
Hirotsu inclined his head. “I have a few things to attend to, but I will be interested to see where you end up. Do keep in touch.”
“Of course.” Dazai gave Hirotsu a thin smile and walked away.
He knew what it must have looked like, but Chuuya was far from in danger of being whisked away from the Port Mafia. Even if Dazai could have convinced Chuuya to drop his loyalties and run, he wouldn’t have.
He just didn’t know if he could give Chuuya what Chuuya needed. So he gave Chuuya the next best thing, by giving him nothing. Mori couldn’t label Chuuya a traitor if Chuuya had nothing. Mori couldn’t use Dazai against Chuuya if Dazai had nothing to offer, whether it be feelings or a chance at a better life.
He only hoped that his stupid partner would learn to stop caring so much.