Chapter Text
Chuuya had long ago forfeit his belief in gods. He wasn't what you would call, a very spiritual man. In fact, he rarely believed in anything. Somedays, he wouldn't even believe in himself.
However, as the screams started once more, Chuuya put his hands to his ears and hummed out a tune. He wondered if there actually was someone, watching over him. He must've done something horrendous to deserve this in his current life, for sure. "Are you still planning on hiding like a coward, little brother?" Verlaine's voice reached his ears, muffled.
"Are you still not going to leave me alone?" Chuuya replied back, his voice sounding bored, unlike the fear and panic that gripped his heart.
The other's came and went, but somehow, Verlaine was always present, and he didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. Chuuya exhaled a shaky breath as the screams stopped, the silence sending his brain into overdrive. "How unfortunate it is for others, to meet you." Verlaine hummed, taking a seat by the window, as he looked out.
If Chuuya had more energy, he would make a remark. But he was drained out, so all he could do was grunt. "Leave the boy alone." Ane-san's familiar voice made his heart ache, and he whipped his head around to stare at the woman.
"Ane-san?" He whispered out, his voice coming out sickeningly weak. "You look worse for wear, boy." She remarked, twirling her umbrella. It seemed so natural to look at her, it felt like home.
"Tell me, why do you fear me?" Ane-san's body language was different, this was the voice she used on missions, when she needed to get something from a target. Chuuya ignored the panic rising in his chest. "I don't fear you." He said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than the lady before him.
"What a lie. Maybe cowardice is in your nature." She taunted. "I didn't raise you like my own blood, only for you to turn out to be exactly like a human. If that's all you can be-" Her voice turned icy. "-then I have no use for you anymore. Go back to your original flesh and bone." Her voice sounded far away, but that might be because Chuuya's head was buzzing.
He clamped his hands over his ears once more, trying to pretend not to notice the way his eyes were stinging.
"Would your family even recognize the monster who's mask you adorn?" Her voice was still audible, Chuuya closed his eyes, and muttered out curses.
"Or would they not accept you as their own, again? By now, you must be used to failing." Her voice was cruel, and some part of him knew this was a part of that Hearn's ability. Chuuya's vision was blurring, his hands were shaking too violently to not notice, and it felt hard to swallow.
The same continued, and by the end of it, Chuuya felt like someone had pulled him apart, and stitched him back up with a rusty needle.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
Why was he not bleeding?
Was he breathing?
Was he even alive? Did he want to be alive?
What was the point of living anymore? It seemed like a waste.
Why bother trying to live, when mortality is final?
Every time something happened, Chuuya's first instinct was to voice it out. He would scream and shout and make sure he was heard, no matter what. But words didn't have an effect here. No matter how much he pleaded or begged, none of them would listen.
The universe was playing a cruel joke on him, he decided. Everyone he'd cared for was here. They'd come and spit his worse fears at him, and sometimes, if he was lucky, they'd say something he desperately wanted to hear. It was exhausting, and Chuuya felt like someone was pulling out all his energy.
When the last two people stepped forward, his chest was heaving, and Chuuya couldn't look them in the eyes anymore.
"Chuuya-kun, I have a question for you." Mori's voice called out into the darkness. Even with his trembling body, even though every muscle in his being screamed in protest, Chuuya raised his head, and struggled to stand up. Muscle memory is one hell of a thing.
His mouth wouldn't work, so he simply nodded. Mori's smile was vicious. "Answer it, and you get to rest." His voice was soothing, and Chuuya was tired, so tired.
"How does someone destroy everything they touch?"
Chuuya blinked, the gnawing feeling in his stomach growing. "I-I don't-?" His voice was shaky, and it hurt to speak. "You, my dear. You've corrupted everything you've laid hands on. The sheep are gone, the flags are dead. Verlaine, Arthur, the Mafia doesn't trust you anymore, and Dazai.....well, he never really cared for you, did he now? Even your own family refuses to take you back, if they had the chance." His voice was so soft.
Chuuya stumbled back, the weight of the words hitting him right in his core, his eyes burning. He choked out a simple please, and Mori's smile widened.
"That's enough." Another familiar voice called out, and Mori's smile became bored. "Well, this might be final." He said, before his form disappeared.
In his daze, Chuuya had forgotten there were 2 people. Mori was there, of course, and there was another one. Chuuya had been dreading seeing him, because this one might actually destroy him, and his mind was already bleeding.
"Hello, partner." Dazai's smile was no better than Mori's
Sometimes, when Chuuya has nothing to do, he liked to sit in the container, with Arthur's hat, Albatross's bike, Ane-san's wine and Mori's coat, to just think.
Think about nothing in particular, just sit and look back on his memories. The moon would shine down on him, sometimes, if it felt merciful enough to shed light. Chuuya was a dreamer, some people might say. He much rather preferred his own version of reality, his own dreams, over his actual life.
This was always accompanied by the moon. She pulled out a rusty silver case and languidly smoked a cigarette, and Chuuya liked to think that she was his friend. Someone he could never touch, someone he could never corrupt.
"You seem to be having the time of your life." Dazai's voice said, and Chuuya was in much too much anguish to retort back. "Tears are interesting, aren't they?"
Chuuya touched his cheek. He was crying. He might have been was a long time, there was no saying how long he had been here. Maybe this was his afterlife, his own personal hell.
"They say tears are words of the heart, something that the mouth cannot voice out. What do your tears depict? Are you sad? Happy? Angry? Confused? Scared?" Dazai was ratting off emotions, but Chuuya was feeling nothing.
He blinked, and clutched Dazai's hands, who look at him with a smirk. He was feeling nothing.
"I can't feel." He rasped out, his throat raw from how much he's screamed. Dazai would understand. He would understand, right?
"Aren't humans supposed to be able to feel?" Dazai questioned, almost innocently but he might as well have stabbed Chuuya through the heart.
Chuuya retracted his hand, he was shaking again.
"Your mind is an asylum. And the tears that escape will never find an answer to their existence in society because they're wrong." He looked at Chuuya. "You're wrong." Chuuya wondered if this is what being poisoned feels like.
He heard the sound of a steam whistle and thought his childhood—no, no, he can't think of childhood or travel, but he sees what looks like travel, what looks like his supposed, fabled childhood. "Betrayal and hurt runs in the veins, darling." Dazai's voice was soft, oh so soft.
"I love you." His voice was a whisper, and Dazai's face broke into a sad grin. "We don't know what love is." His voice was still sad, and Chuuya closed his eyes, the feeling of tears still lingering on his face. The more he gets used to it, the more he endures that painful solitude. Without realizing it they fall, sudden and strange, tears which are no longer unknown.
Tears of love?
Dazai could be correct. He didn't know what love was. But isn't that the entire concept of love? If it was a thing that was meant to be the same for everyone, there was be a concrete definition for it. But love wasn't like that.
It could be anything. It was always something.
Never everything.
Never nothing.
Just....something.
He opened his eyes, to say something, but the figure was nowhere to be found. Even Verlaine had disappeared, and Chuuya turned towards the window. The moon hung outside, her light bright. She seems happy, almost smiling upon him.
He smiles back.
Ranpo had figured out what Hearn's ability was, and Dazai was awestruck, just a little bit. They were gathered in Mori's office, much to his displeasure.
Everyone was there, and Ranpo was speaking.
"Lafcadio Hearn. Ability name: Fragment." He began. Hearn was quiet at his side. "His ability puts the person affected in a trace like coma. The person is practically stuck in there until they face all their fears, dreams, desires. The main factor his ability acts upon is fear, itself. Although it's not malicious, it'll put the person affected in a dream-like state, paired up against everyone they love, or they've lost, or just care for in general."
Dazai could see Kouyou shoot daggers at Hearn, and he shared the sentiment. Don't get him wrong. Of course he was still a little pissed off with the fact that Chuuya might've known that Mori was still alive, but he wasn't at ease with the fact that he was facing all he'd lost in there.
Chuuya Nakahara was a very complex person.
He'd lost a lot, and for that to be shown again....it was enough to make Dazai loose his usual composure. He'd practically been running on fumes these past days.
It had been 4 days, and Chuuya was still comatose.
Dazai hadn't been to visit him even once. He refused to.
Instead, he threw himself into his work, and tasked himself with finding out where Hearn was, the other one. He was tracking the president down too, and he had to deal with Mori on top of it too. It was fucking hell, but he was still surviving.
"Now, I believe that the Agency has not been in contact with Fukuzawa?" Mori asked, when Ranpo was done with answering questions.
The agency's eyes were on the boss now, and he smiled.
"I was attacked by someone, their profile is still unclear." He began. "They got me severally injured, and my memory is a little bit hazy, but I met our friend, Hearn, there." The tied up Hearn gave them all a nod. Weirdo.
"We worked together to escape, and we did. I sent Elise to Chuuya to make sure that during the time I was away, the Mafia would be stable. And I am very proud of what he's managed to do with this place." Mori said, and Dazai hated to admit it, but the man actually seemed like a proud father, whenever he talked about Chuuya.
It made Dazai want to break shit.
"I assume that the reason Fukuzawa is ghost-mode, is somehow related to this." Mori continued. "You think you got this Hearn, and President got the other one?" Dazai asked, and Mori nodded at him.
"There's a possibility that might be true." Mori confirmed.
"The president might be in danger, but he's a very capable man. I trust that he'll make it back safely, but still, we're not going to give up on the hunt for the other Hearn. The office has been repaired, so we can move back into our original space." Ranpo said from his side, earning a murmur of approval from Kunikida.
"Hey! excuse me." Shimeko's voice said, and Atsushi moved a little closer to give her the right of way.
"Chuuya and me had a deal. He needed to give me information regarding Laf's death, which since he isn't-" She shot Hearn a look "- is null and void. However, he was also supposed to give me intel on my friend." She crossed her arms, looking at Mori.
"What are you planning on giving him in exchange?" Mori asked. Always one to strike a deal, that man.
"I already did. I fixed and strengthened the Mafia's cyber security. No one can hack inside, your information has never been safer." She said in matter of fact tone. "What's your friend's name?" Mori questioned, and then it hit Dazai.
Well, fuck.
"Shuuji Tsushima." She said, and Dazai made the mistake of looking at Mori. That man gave him a smirk, eyebrows raised. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK-
"I know that man." Mori replied back, his eyes cruel. Shimeko leaned forward on the table, eager to know where the boy who had drowned with her ended up. The rest of the Agency, minus Kunikida, Ranpo and Atsushi seemed curious as well.
"Before I tell you that, mind telling me why you wish to find this boy?" Mori asked, that bastard. Dazai crossed his fingers and toes, praying and pleading to whatever god there was out there that Shimeko wouldn't tell the entire story.
"He and I, when we were young, attempted suicide together. It failed, naturally, but he disappeared not too soon after that. And he stole something of mine. I'd like it back." Tanabe said, her voice was cold. She didn't sound like a lovesick girl anymore.
"A double suicide-?" Yosano's eyes wandered towards his, recognition flaring in them.
"He's here. In this room." Mori said lazily, and Dazai fought back the urge to throw up. Not here, not right now.
Tanabe turned around so violently it's a wonder her neck didn't break. Her eyes didn't hesitate to find his brown ones, confirming his hunch that she'd suspected it was him. "Shuuji." She voiced out his name, as no one had ever before. The nostalgia hit Dazai like a fucking bulldozer.
"Should we talk outside?" Dazai said, his voice still sounding firm and commanding, thanks to the years of polishing he'd given it.
Tanabe nodded. Who was she to say no anyway?
The Agency and the Mafia's eyes followed him, he could feel them on his back. It was an unpleasant, unwelcome sensation. Like bugs were crawling all over him.
"Why'd you run away?" Tanabe asked him as soon as they were out. Dazai gave her a small smile, and then sighed. To untangle the web that was unfortunately his life, he'd have to have a long fucking talk.
Well, at least it would keep him busy, right?