Chapter Text
There was an open window in the clinic's room.
The wide, spotless window pane reflected back Chuuya’s image: a hospital bed and an omega almost disappearing in it. He looked tiny. He saw the dirty mass of his red hair, the tube of the IV, and the beeping machines surrounding the bed.
In the reflection, he was not alone.
Arahabaki sneered back at him defiantly, but this time Chuuya didn’t look away.
He scanned the sharp-fanged smirk, the hollow in the place of eyes, the swirls carved over the shadow’s skin, glowing like rivers of scorching lava in the night but dripping like fresh blood. He stopped to study the creature's black wings. There were holes amidst the black feathers, revealing shiny bones with fractured edges, and Chuuya felt them — he felt every inch of that broken creature more than he felt the stitches pulling at his sore, battered stomach.
Because that creature lived in him.
Because it would never die unless Chuuya died.
“Fuck you,” he whispered. “You think you’re hot shit, right?”
Arahabaki grinned.
His mouth opened into a scythe, dark as the blackest night, ferocious like a beast. A creature of gravity and black matter who could devour the world raw. For a second, Chuuya felt he was looking right past the edge of the universe; at that Event Horizon he only barely escaped.
Arahabaki kept staring, and Chuuya stared right back for what felt like a lifetime.
He wasn’t scared anymore. Why should he be? He was a mafia executive, a fighter, a parent, a husband, a human.
And he won.
He won against Arahabaki, against those who created him, defying life and death and science and divinity.
He was alive.
Nakahara Chuuya was alive. And, at last, he could tell the world he survived.
- - -
The C-section scar on Chuuya’s belly was healing nicely, or so Yosano told him.
Not that Dazai knew first hand, since Chuuya hid the wound and didn’t let anyone see it. The day after Sonoko’s birth, the sky shone brightly — as if to wipe away the shadows of the past months, as if to fight off the darkness where Arahabaki lured.
Dazai remembered the rays warming his bandaged skin as he sat next to Chuuya. He was comfortably perched on the side of the clinic’s bed, hunched over the omega; they stood there in silence, hands intertwined, foreheads brushing together and hair mixing — black and auburn, sweaty and messy in the exact same way.
“Good work, partner. She’s beautiful.”
Chuuya hummed weakly, pressing closer against Dazai. His chest let out a low purr when the alpha planted a kiss in his hair.
“Of course,” he drawled. “She’s ours. Of course, she’s fucking beautiful.”
Dazai snickered.
God, he’d missed his cocky, overconfident partner. He missed that sense of possession the omega displayed over the things he considered his to guard and protect — the Sheep, the mafia, now Sonoko.
“Is Arahabaki gone?” he asked.
Chuuya hesitated.
“It’ll never be gone,” he said, after a second. “Not while I’m alive. But he’s quiet.”
And that— that was still something.
It was a reality Dazai always knew, and he trusted Chuuya’s firm grip over the god that lived in him. He'd proved his worth again, and he survived against all odds.
Not that Dazai ever doubted it.
(Oh, he did.
He did, and he saw Chuuya almost winking out under his watch, and he discovered that the perspective of losing the one person he ever loved terrified him.)
“That’s stupid. I almost feel alone now that she's...not here, y'know,” Chuuya murmured. “Is that odd?”
Dazai kissed his forehead, holding onto him as tightly as he could. “It’s not odd, Chuuya. It’s ok.”
“I’ll miss eating for two, though.”
“Hm-m,” he smiled to himself. “Of course, Chibi will miss his stupid puddings.”
It was ok.
Sonoko was sleeping, and Chuuya was alive and everything would be fixed with time. Now he knew they could fix their relationship with time, because Chuuya asked him to stay and Dazai never let go of his hand.
It wasn’t that crowded anymore in his beautiful husband’s body, and Chuuya had every right to savor that quietness for as long as he wanted.
The Port Mafia would have to do without Corruption for a while. They’d have to give Chuuya space, for Gravity had presented him an unfamiliar, treacherous face.
Well, Dazai would make sure Chuuya could have time to come to terms with his new life.
First, though, he must heal, and rest, and get to know his daughter.
He earned it.
Since Sonoko’s birth, things had changed again.
Dazai returned to the Agency almost full-time (but that’s another story, namely the story of how a shitty mentor shoved all his work on a certain weretiger). Meanwhile, Chuuya stayed at home to recover. He was dying to return to fieldwork, but his grip on Tainted trembled whenever he thought he’d see Arahabaki’s incarnation at the corners of his peripheral view.
The omega could risk his own safety for the sake of an adrenaline rush, but he wouldn’t risk the lives of his subordinates.
Chuuya had to admit that, after all, it wasn’t so horrible to wait for Dazai in the evening.
Hearing the alpha say ‘I’m home’ as he slid out of his shoes, hang his trench coat on the coat rack and clipped along the penthouse to reach the nursery gave Chuuya some odd sense of domesticity he could get accustomed to.
Dazai didn’t mind it either.
The only catch? He actually had to go to work when all he wanted was to stay home with his husband (not yet his mate, but they were working on that. God, they were making actual progress, for once.) and their daughter.
“Hey, little girl,” Dazai cooed at the baby, stretching out a hand.
Immediately, Sonoko grabbed his index with a delighted squeak. Chuuya sighed — somewhat fondly — using the edge of the yellow bib to dry the drool on Sonoko’s cheek. She had a reddish face and a bright, full, toothless smile. Dazai had never seen baby Chuuya, but he was pretty sure Sonoko had inherited her smile from the omega.
Spikes of brown hair covered her head, sprouting in all directions.
“She missed you.”
Dazai opened in a beam, moving his gaze to his husband.
“I missed her so much,” he complained, wriggling the finger to make Sonoko laugh.
She had Chuuya’s voice, too — loud, unafraid, joyful.
Dazai’s smile softened, and he gushed: “But Kunikida-kun is a meanie. He didn’t let me finish early and come home— right, princess? Uncle Kunikida is such a scary dude.”
“You probably didn’t even start your paperwork before afternoon.”
Dazai pouted. “That’s correct but irrelevant.”
“That’s extremely relevant.”
“Chuuya is just as mean as Kunikida,” Dazai said to Sonoko.
He gently grabbed one little foot and rubbed his thumb over the wriggling toes to make her laugh. They were covered in a bright yellow onesie; a gift from Verlaine.
‘Arthur liked yellow,’ was his explanation, gaze lost in nothingness and a barely perceptible smile on his lips. 'If he were alive, he would adore the kid, too."
Chuuya had almost started hurling objects at the man after the comment, and Dazai had to spend the evening reassuring his husband that Rimbaud had tried killing them first. It had been a fair, life-or-death battle. There was no need for guilt.
But the onesie was cute, and it fit Sonoko just perfectly, so they kept it.
“Trying to get you to work is not being mean. If it were up to me, you’d still be at the Agency finishing your goddamn work.”
“Chuuya just doesn’t want me home because he hates me.”
“Damn right. You are the worst employee I’ve ever seen.”
“Not true!” Dazai cried, slapping a hand over his chest in mock horror. “Sonoko, did you hear that?!”
The baby gurgled, letting out bubbles of saliva and kicking her little legs and arms in approval. She couldn’t understand a thing of the commotion, but Dazai decided to count that as a sign that Sonoko agreed with him.
Of course, his own daughter would support him.
Chuuya lifted his eyes to the ceiling, still rocking Sonoko in his arms. It was a gesture so natural, one would have never supposed that those same hands had ended many, many lives. “Kunikida is too patient.”
“He’s a dictator,” Dazai said, turning up his nose. “A mean work dictator. Isn’t he, Sonoko-chan?”
The baby cried in delight.
“Don’t start misleading the kid, you bastard,” Chuuya rumbled, his voice dipping until he barely whispered out the cuss word. “Wanna take her for a minute?” Dazai promptly stepped forward, stretching his arms to grab the baby carefully from Chuuya’s hold. “I’m spent, so we’ll call take out. Crab fine by you?”
Dazai’s eyes lit up as he opened his arms to accommodate the baby against his chest. She immediately took hold of his bolo tie, tugging it. Dazai let her, promising to himself he’d stop her when she’d try to bite the blue stone.
(She always did).
“Of course,” he said. He didn’t have as much stamina as the omega, not enough muscles to carry Sonoko around for long without his arms turning numb, but he’d gladly suffer for her.
With a low growl, Chuuya cracked his neck. “Shit. I feel like a train ran me over.”
Dazai shot him a smirk. “Kinky. Is that a way to propose a double suicide, my love?”
“…No? And don’t call me that.”
“What, love?”
“Shut the fuck up before I take my daughter back and kick your sorry ass into the outer space,” he said, but Dazai didn’t miss the tinge of bright pink that colored the executive’s cheeks. It only caused his grin to stretch as he lifted Sonoko to his face, pressing their cheeks together.
“Ohhh, do you hear that, Sonoko? Daddy’s scary~!”
Chuuya sighed. But he didn’t fight that comment, though Dazai low-key hoped he would.
Instead, he started padding across the room, leaving the alpha to look at his back as he walked away.
“Ah, Chuuya, before you go—”
Chuuya stopped in his tracks, one hand already on the wooden threshold of the door that separated the penthouse’s nursery to the living room.
He glanced behind his shoulder, at Dazai bouncing the kid in his arms. He looked beautiful. A little disheveled, stripped of the perfect demeanor of the Gravity Manipulator of the Port Mafia and tired like any new parent, but he was still perfect in Dazai’s eyes.
His stomach clenched, and he moved from one foot to the other.
“Yeah?”
“I missed Chibi, too.”
- - -
The following years passed faster than Chuuya could ever imagine.
The ghost of a younger him, terrified and on the brink of madness, feeling three heartbeats in his body — his own, Sonoko, Arahabaki — had faded away like a bad dream. It left a lingering sensation of cold that sometimes blanketed over him, though. Yosano said it was PTSD, and it would pass with time and therapy.
Chuuya trusted her, for he’d learned to call her a friend and an ally.
But, for those times when the omega felt powerless, Dazai’s warm embrace was where he ventured to find comfort.
In the nights where he struggled to fall asleep, Dazai would lull him, kiss his lids, and make their foreheads touch as he’d done in the hospital room. Their breaths would mix together, falling into a quiet rhythm.
Dazai would only leave him alone when Sonoko woke up at night, howling for food or attention, or just to let her presence known. Despite his notorious laziness, the alpha always insisted on being the one to pick her up, pacing through the house with a warm bottle of milk and humming nursery rhymes under his breath.
He didn’t sleep much, anyway, and Sonoko kept him company.
Chuuya would fall back asleep to the sound of his husband’s hushed voice singing to their daughter, marveling about how his wretched life had taken such a peaceful turn.
Slowly but surely, Sonoko stopped crying at ungodly hours. With her peaceful, it was easier for Chuuya too to sleep throughout the nights.
He respected his promise to Dazai; one day, two years into their marriage, he was ready again.
Sonoko was staying with Ane-san to leave Chuuya free to wear out his heat.
It wasn’t his first full heat since the pregnancy, but it was the first time he fully trusted himself not to be carried away by the loneliness, the need and the physical ache that had shaped him in the four years away from his former partner.
It was nice to finally let go, and feel loved.
When he asked the alpha to bite him, Dazai had looked at him with a flash of worry in his eyes. He kissed Chuuya’s mouth, murmuring an I love you against his lips, then he moved down. He found the scars left by the old bond, and he kissed those too.
“Are you sure?”
Chuuya nodded.
He could barely form words at the peak of his heat, but he understood why Dazai would need a clearer consent than that. He hooked his ankles around Dazai’s bare calves, keeping him close, reminding himself how whole he used to feel with a mate by his side.
He wanted that back— all of what he lost, all of what he’d given up.
“I love you,” he just said.
And now I’m finally certain you love me back.
- - -
“Daddy, can you please blow on my cocoa?”
Chuuya threw an apologetic smile at his husband and Kunikida, bending next to Sonoko’s chair. His hand rested on her head — protectively, lovingly, snow-white skin set against dark brown hair. At four, Nakahara-Dazai Sonoko was the most extraordinary creature Dazai had ever seen; she alone had the mafia and the agency wrapped around her little finger.
“Sure, princess. We blow together at the count of three, ok?”
“Ok!”
Sonoko blew at the count of two, but Chuuya didn’t scold her. He laughed instead, and her giggles filled the kitchen as her father ruffled her hair.
The scene, although far from new, warmed Dazai’s heart. A thousand emotions passed in his chest, closing his stomach into a tight knot. He wondered what Kunikida — who sat next to him, his Ideal notebook dutifully placed on the table and a blush spread across his face — thought of it.
Dazai also assumed that, when Kunikida announced that he was stopping by to discuss some developments in a case, he didn’t expect to find himself trapped in a conversation about hot chocolate with the former Soukoku and a four-year-old. However, life had strange ways.
(The same ways that brought Chuuya back to him, he supposed).
“Kunikida-san, do you like hot chocolate?” Sonoko asked, a cocoa-stained smile plastered on her face. People said she had Dazai’s smile, but the man always saw Chuuya in it.
“I…” Kunikida stalled, side-glancing at Dazai. The alpha shrugged nonchalantly. “I do.”
“You can have some of mine if you want.”
“T—That’s very polite of you, Sonoko-chan.”
“Here!” Sonoko chipped, promptly trying to push her mug towards an embarrassed Kunikida.
The chocolate wobbled dangerously, spilling past the mug’s edge. Chuuya frowned in silence, Tainted glowing red around the object to keep it from falling and spilling hot chocolate everywhere.
“There’s really no need—”
“But it’s good!” The girl insisted, somehow aggressively. And that, Dazai thought, was definitely Chuuya’s selflessness. “Daddy makes the best hot chocolate.”
Under his breath, Chuuya growled something that sounded like ‘it’s really not that hard, it’s goddamn milk and powder.’
Kunikida cracked her a smile but didn’t comment.
He was probably gagging a little in his mouth from hearing that someone referred to the feared Nakahara Chuuya as dad, and Dazai would admit that it took time getting used to it. Chuuya himself had needed time to adjust to his new role and accept that it didn’t take anything away from what he already was: he could be a dad and an executive and a person without giving anything up.
It was then that Dazai decided to take pity on his partner, who most surely hadn’t visited past office hours to hear about a mafia’s executive great hot chocolate skills.
“Sweetie, let him be.”
At that, Sonoko immediately stopped her attempts to push her dessert on the beta, raising on her father two wide, watery puppy eyes. They were of a rich amber shade with speckles of grey, and ever-so convincing.
She hadn’t manifested a second gender yet, let alone an Ability, but Dazai had a hunch it would have something to do with persuasion.
“…But I was trying to make friends.”
“Baby, Kunikida-kun is already your friend.” He glanced at Kunikida, who nodded awkwardly. “You know that.”
“But—!”
But if she didn’t give away her hot chocolate, maybe he’d stop liking her. Oh, Christ.
She definitely took that after Chuuya.
Dazai barely controlled himself before he could sigh in defeat. “If someone says no, we have to listen. Only daddy can bother Kunikida-kun. We have to behave, right?”
Sonoko looked confused for a second, almost thinking it over before giving in.
“Fine,” she muttered with a slight pout. “Sorry.”
“It’s ok,” Kunikida stammered. It was a hilarious sight, if you asked Dazai.
Chuuya smiled, landing a gentle peck on the crown of her head. The mug glowed red again and, silently, slid back in front of Sonoko.
“Good girl,” he praised, and she beamed and purred happily under her father’s hand and Dazai’s heart broke into a million tiny pieces.
He would gladly showcase his perfect family all evening, but was also eager to call it a day and slide in bed with his mate, so he stood up. Kunikida followed swiftly, a flash of relief passing behind his glasses.
Sonoko’s head immediately whipped up.
“Where are you ‘oing?”
Where are you going? Is it a game? Can I play too?
Dazai smiled. There was a soft edge to his voice when he spoke — a sense of protectiveness he never thought possible before Sonoko.
“Drink your cocoa, ok, love? Daddy and Kunikida-kun have to talk about work things.” He made a face just for the sake of hearing her giggle. “Boring, boooring things.”
Chuuya snorted, too, landing one last kiss on their daughter's head. Before moving away, the omega tenderly instructed her to drink her chocolate. He murmured that her parents would be back soon — that they were never far — and she nodded dutifully. She wasn't afraid of being alone, she said.
If she only knew how proud her parents were of her, how much they loved her.
After that, the executive stepped closer to Dazai's side as he, the alpha and Kunikida moved towards the kitchen’s door.
Almost mechanically, Dazai leaned into his husband’s space, sinking his nose into the mass of his hair. Chuuya had let it grow longer, and now he kept it in a half-ponytail of the same color as a fox’s mane.
Dazai adored the change and forbid his mate to ever go back to the odd rat tail he sported during his early twenties. It was nice to pull and tug at during sex, but running his fingers through the auburn strands while Chuuya fell asleep on his chest, his happy purr turning into soft snores as Morpheus claimed him? God. That was holy.
“Thanks for the help back there, Chibikko,” the alpha said, voice dripping irony.
Chuuya snorted.
“It was entertaining,” he said, with half a shrug. “Look, ‘Samu, why don’t you two go to the office? You can talk there while I stay with Sonoko.” He glared at Kunikida. “Don’t touch anything, megane. We might be in a truce, but I wouldn’t,” his voice dipped, and he glanced behind his shoulder to check on Sonoko, “fuck around, if I were you.”
Kunikida cleared his voice.
“Oh, please. Unlike the mafia, the Agency doesn’t need such lowly tricks.”
“I don’t give a shit about your rhetoric. Just don’t test me.”
“It won’t be necessary,” he repeated.
In lieu of an answer and knowing better than to step in old-fashioned Port Mafia versus Agency quarrels, Dazai leaned over Chuuya. His lips hovered a whisper away from the tip of the omega’s ear. He breathed in his sweet scent, letting it fill him.
In return, Chuuya melted under the touch, letting out a soft exhale.
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind keeping an eye on Sonoko,” Chuuya assured, “But you know...”
“The less she knows. I know, sweetheart.”
It was something they agreed upon a long time before: Sonoko wouldn’t have contacts with the Port Mafia outside Ane-san, Hirotsu, Verlaine and the Akutagawa siblings — surprisingly, Chuuya agreed to it quite easily — and she would never know about the darkest part of her parents’ world.
She would not grow up in a world of deadly abilities and blood and danger.
Dazai had been amazed by how Chuuya managed to make their lives appear somewhat normal to the eyes of their daughter.
She didn’t know that her parents were the dreadful Soukoku. Thanks to Dazai’s continuous efforts to circumscribe Mori’s plans, she didn’t even know about the arrangements that the Port Mafia had laid out for her future. She didn’t suspect anything about the importance her existence held for the city.
She didn’t know and, in Dazai’s dreams, she would never find out.
Kunikida cleared his voice, flustered. For once, Dazai couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.
“Dazai? A word?”
“Sure,” Dazai said, as he and Chuuya exchanged a look— a meaningful glance that spoke louder than a thousand words. The back of their hands brushed together as the executive left for the kitchen.
Wordlessly, Dazai gestured towards the office’s door.
It was technically Chuuya’s office, but they had gotten better at sharing spaces. Once inside, Kunikida let out an embarrassed cough.
Dazai’s eyebrows jumped up, waiting for him to explain why, all of a sudden, he’d decided to find a normal family so damn uncomfortable to witness.
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s nice to see you keep doing your best, Dazai. As your partner, I’m—” He turned a bright shade of purple. “I’m proud of your accomplishments.”
...Ah
Dazai blinked.
Out of all the things Kunikida had told him, that specific advice stayed with him over the years. It encouraged him to be better — not to the point of self-destruction, for once, but enough to feel proud of what he had accomplished.
'You can only do the best you can do.'
And he did.
Every day, he lived by those words as he did with Odasaku’s last wish.
“What~? Is Kunikida-kun jealous of my beautiful family?” he teased, his eyes widening when Kunikida nodded.
He didn’t expect him to nod, and Kunikida rarely surprised him.
“You look happy, Dazai.”
The alpha made a low, pensive noise.
“I am happy,” he said, after a moment.
Happier than I ever thought I’d deserve to be.
“I’m— very well, then. That’s good to hear. And I may have misjudged you and... Nakahara-san.”
Dazai smirked and gingerly patted Kunikida on the back.
Lord, so many people misjudged them in the past.
Kunikida was present the day of their wedding; he’d seen what a miserable car wreck they’d been. Since that ceremony had been so underwhelming, he and Chuuya had been considering renewing their vows sometime soon. Maybe, they could elope for a week or two with their child, just to spite Mori.
Or maybe they’d throw a huge party to prove that, yes, sometimes love really conquers all. Even though nobody, not even them, believed it.
Because when trust seemed lost and casual cruelty guided their steps, nicking at them every day of their lives, they started anew. They worked together, he and Chuuya, for that was what they did best: they rescued each other.
And by doing so, they rescued Sonoko, too.
“Oh? Go on, go on~”
“He is… a good father. And so are you.”
“Kunikida-kun is finally acknowledging my power as a mentor, huh?”
“I—! No! That’s—”
Dazai winked, cutting off his partner’s outraged stammering with a laugh.
He still hid behind a mask of playful cheekiness, but he was working on that, too. He was working on himself.
“Aw, I'm moved, Kuuu-ni-kida-kun~! Just don’t tell Chuuya. He likes to think he intimidates the Agency.”
And Chuuya had reasons to think that: Nakahara Chuuya, the martial artist, the port mafia executive. The deadly gravity manipulator, the god. The man who fought Arahabaki tooth and nail to protect his child. The omega, the fighter, the man.
Soukoku’s Chuuya.
Dazai’s Chuuya.
His husband. His forever mate.
There were just so many layers, just so many facets. And Dazai— Dazai loved them all.