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bunchofstraydogs · 3 years

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Dazai Osamu in a relationship

Just a lil warning before you proceed: dis a chonky one, kay?

○

Depending on why Dazai is in a relationship affects how he will act with his partner.

If Dazai is curious about them, enough to enter the relationship,

it will last at best a handful of months, at worst about 2 weeks. Enough to get to know them, test them out in terms of reaction, values, honesty and morality, and get bored of them. Thus leading to him braking up with the person or, if he predicts that the person would react badly and cause a scene, get them to break up with him. But even that is dubious because i doubt Dazai would make the relationship official. He would probably just act as if they're dating, leading the partner to believe they actually are without having to verbally confirm anything, and then as soon as he loses interest, pulls a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't and disappears with little to no notice. Hey, he never said they were dating, he calls everyone Belladona, the fault is that person's for being delusional. Yes, he is an asshole, what did you expect of Dazai?

But if Dazai is in love?? Unrecognizable.

I will make a separate headcanon(? whatever these are I'm writing) on what i think a person should be like to sweep Dazai of his feet, but now i want to concentrate on what he would be like in such a relationship.

Is it possible for Dazai to fall in love? Absolutely. He loved Odasaku and Ango, perhaps not romantically, but he's definitely capable of love. People like him- aware of the world's cruelty, dealing with demons and guilt, roaming the world for the sole reason that they haven't died yet, hoping to find something worthwhile they can feel the need to be selfish about and call theirs; don't fall in love, they crash desperately. It takes a lot for them to feel those emotions, but when they do, they can never really let them go.

He would try to act as he usually does in public and try approaching the subject of his trepidation and disarray in many different ways. Distancing himself and going as far to actively avoid them would just come back and bite him in his boney ass. To effectively avoid someone, you need to know their schedule, hobbies, interests, habits, etc. And having learned that would just constantly remind him of them, they'd never leave his mind. He'd look on the clock, see the time and know that they'll be in that specific class because he knows their whole curriculum and class schedule/ at the grocery because they're surly out of their favourite snack/ doing black laundry and yes, he knows unnecessary details about them as well. After that disastrous failure, he comes back running and commences new ways to handle that person. These beta testings are for him as much as they are for them. Just how much and what exactly does he feel for that person, what buttons can he push and which ones he doesn't want to.

When i say Dazai in love would be unrecognizable, i mean it. Not superficially, where everyone can see it, but where it matters.

After doing his best to rail in the unfamiliar feelings under control, going as far as using some of Mori's techniques, the realization of the situation he's found himself in hits him hard.

He comes back as if nothing happened.

The deadpan that person gives him and a "Are you done with your bullshit or do you need some more time to brood about issues you made with yourself?" He doesn't even blink, "Oh, my Belladona! Does that mean you've missed me? Were you worried about me as well??"

All of this was said in your typical, Dazai maniac style, the only difference is that he actually wants an answer. He wants to hear the confirmation, in whatever form it may come- he can read between the lines and body language, just give him something to work with. He's desperate.

While the public Dazai persona won't change, his inner musings and his approach to the love interest will.

Osamu will, sometimes sneakily, usually not so subtly, immerse himself into their daily life. Get them accustomed and used to his presence. What this will do is cause a sense of familiar coexistence, that of people living together; make the person unconsciously continue to include him in their activities; learn to depend on him (not in a unhealthy, yandere way, but if their car brakes down or they're feelinh unsafe, Dazai will be the first person they feel the urge to call) because Dazai can be reliable and he will be reliable for that special person. He will also be the first person they share good news with as well, because if someone is always there for and with you, it's only natural.

Make no mistakes, Dazai is transparent only when he wants to be.

The reasons he does this is because 1) he wants to gauge their reaction to his great interest in them, 2) mask his subtle advances which are the most important part of integrating himself into their life, 3) to get that person in the position where he needs them to be for him to move on to the next phase of his plan.

Now, i may have said plan, but that's a somewhat loose term since what he'll do next depends on their reaction. He definitely has a rough outline of the whole thing in his head, but he's also adaptable and ready to react accordingly to whatever they may throw his way.

[I will be using l/i or LI for "love interest" bc I'm tired of writing that person or whatever, okay? Good.]

Once his l/i made effort to go out of their way for him or commit any type of love language, basically:

act of service- pay for his bills, massage his shoulders, buy crab based food or alchohol he really likes for their own fridge so that he can have it when he's over (often) even if they don't like those things especially then

words of affirmation- thank you Dazai, how was your sleep?, please take better care of yourself i can't help you if you're not making an effort

physical touch- ruffle his hair, lean on him when tired, hold his hand or wrist because it's crowded and it would be a pain to search for you Dazai

gift giving- "I noticed you were running out of bandages", "I bought you food, figured your lost case would forget to eat", "saw this mackerel, reminded me of you^^" "BELLADONA, NO >:("

quality time- spending nights with him because he has insomnia, playing games at the arcade, drive around town run from the cops

He would be overwhelmed. In the best way possible. He'd feel overwhelmingly good and pleasant and warm and worried.

He didn't feel like this, ever.

Not even with Odasaku and Ango. They were probably his first friends, but that's the thing. They didn't make his heart race, they didn't throw him into panic attacks, they didn't overwhelm him, they didn't keep him up at night because he couldn't get them out of his head or completely monopolise his mind during the day.

He gets panic attacks.

A lot of them, actually. Usually he can fake being fine, but sometimes he hyperventilates and can't breathe and all that he can smell is the blood on his hands and his chest is as hollow as l/i's eyes. He knows what can happen. They can and will be used against him. Hell, it could even be an accident. He is vulnerable just because they exist and he can't do shit about it.

He could do his thing: pull some strings, have them move to another country and never speak to each other ever again. He has the power, but he lacks the strength. He could do it, but he doesn't want to. His thumb won't press the numbers, his voice died out, his mind went blank.

The wind blows and it carries their scent with it. The bells ring and it's their laughter that resonates within. His bandages ruffle and it's the warmth of their touch he feels. He's dying, but he's not just ready yet to leave. Hopefully, Odasaku will patiently keep a seat for him.

That was what gave him away, actually.

That's when Ranpo realised, with zero doubt, that Dazai Osamu is in love.

Dazai could be going on and on about suicide.

Enter l/i.

"I found an amazing tree yesterday with really sturdy branches. I wanted to test them out today, but i promised l/i I'd go to the new bakery with them today and who would they go with if i die?? Unacceptable!"

Ranpo: "A new bakery? I'll happily take your place."

"UNACCEPTABLE!!"

With every panic attack he feels stranded on an island in the sea of death.

He's exhausted. For the first time he finally wants to escape alive. Then they walk in and the storm in the sea moves to his heart. And into his stomach and his hands and his knees.

"I'm here for you, Osamu. Everything is going to be fine."

His insomnia goes by a different name now.

It still keeps him up at night and makes him restless.

But this time, when he fills his nth glass of whiskey for the night, when the TV is muted and the trafic quiet, when he can hear their breathing beside him in their shared bed, he raises the glass to hope for the halcyon days.

●

Fucking finally. You think you're exhausted, you waste of bandages?? I have a final today I'm going to fail and actually wrote about your musky ass. You try doing that with my brain.

Hope you guys like it and if you made it this far, here's a cup of ☕ or 🍵, whichever you prefer. I wrote him as i see and envision him. Hope it all makes sense. He's a complicated character, but he is still human and he is not immune to emotions.

Have a good one~☆

I will probably come up with more things for him, because i doubt i covered everything, but for now this shall do.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu in a relationship

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years

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"Paranormal night? I don't think so!" - Ikemen Vampire (Isaac)

TW ; vomit , mature language

@sciamchyafterdusk requested:

I saw your post with the halloween propts also i dont really know if im requesting this right i just got tumblr but Mc and isaac from ikemen vampire for 21 and 26 🥺🍁 I just think it would be really funny because I doubt isaac would believe in ghost probably just a prank from dazzi and arthur but, I think he’d deny it but secretly not so secretly be a scaredy-cat (also male reader but ik most people have female mcs so you dont have to write it if you dont feel comfortable with that!)

Sassy!Male!MC because I'm kinda tired of writing for beautiful perfect ladies that go STOP TEASING ME TEEHEE, blush over nothing and sing like disney princesses. (watch me do exactly that in the next piece I write)

+it's not a negative thing or anything as I'm the first one who likes to write for that type of trope but,, variety is very much needed every once in a while

21. “Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.”

26. “I dare you to go down there.”

Isaac had no idea why he ever thought this could have been a good idea in the first place. Sitting by a candlelit round table, Dazai, Arthur, you and your lover were staring at a crystal ball placed in the middle of the wooden surface, hands ceremoniously joined together to form a circle.

The room was growing colder by the minute, as the local paranormal enthusiast decided that a fire would scare the spirits away. Despite the polar temperatures, you managed to keep your hand warm enough to try and offer some kind of support to your partner, Isaac, whose left hand was as cold as ice and even slightly trembling, though you kept any type of comment to yourself as you knew he wouldn't be pleased to have a third bully team up against him.

Unfortunately for both of you, the two writers' analyzing eyes were vigilant even in the darkness of the room, and they simultaneously decided to poke fun at the scientist as they waited for something to happen.

"Ai-chan, are you scared?" The Japanese teasingly inquired. "C'mon old Newt! Shouldn't you believe in numbers and science a little bit more? I'm sure your gravitational equation will come to save you if a ghost tries strangling you!~" The other man said, obviously aware of the hypocrisy of his statement. "Would you look at that..! You're shaking like a leaf and your expression is quite the amusing one..." Arthur added, slightly leaning forward to get a better look at his face. "C'mon, stop bullying him, you two." You whispered with a scolding tone.

You didn't exactly believe in these things, and yet the slight creepiness of the whole atmosphere couldn't quite let your heart remain completely unmoved. Just as you turned your eyes back on the transparent sphere, Arthur straightened like a board and with utmost earnestness exclaimed:"I can feel a presence... Dear Lord, look behind you Isaac!!"

"W-WHAT IS IT-?!" The fragile man half screamed, throwing himself to your side and squeezing your arm tightly, as if scared a supernatural entity would grab him from behind and drag him to Hell. The moment the exclamation left your lover's lips your eyes flew to the back of the room, noting with your own two pupils that there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary there.

"Haa... you really are an impossible one Arthur." You said with a sigh while pinching the bridge of your nose. "I'm utterly serious when it comes to these things!" Said the English man with a slight pout marking his features. Then, an idea came to your mind.

The blue haired flirt always found an excuse to either tease you or your man, and a payback was the least you could do.

"Wait! Look at the sphere- no way... that's impossible..." You mumbled with an incredulous tone, making the best shocked expression you could manage. Three other pair of eyes moved to the crystal ball, focusing with all their might to try and see what you were talking about. "Do you see something??" Arthur's voice came out in a whisper, hushed and grave.

"Oh my gaud, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass!"

"O-of course you didn't see anything- ghosts don't exist anyways..." Isaac whispered to himself, finally letting go of your arm and huffing in relief.

"MC!!! Take this seriously!!" Seeing the playboy so offended pleased you, and you responded with a hearty laugh. "Yeah well, I'm not really the biggest believer of these type of things. I'm still shocked the author of Sherlock Holmes is a fan of the occult, though!"

"Don't you dare mention that piece of trash in front of me!" Ah, there was his weakness. Whenever someone mentioned the detective, he'd lose his temper in the blink of an eye, becoming vulnerable to every type of teasing remark thrown his way. This was a tactic you had started using quite often whenever you wanted to help Isaac with all the mocking gibberish thrown his way.

"Now, now, let us not fight!" Dazai cut off your thoughts with his signature smile. "If we make too much noise, the oni might hear us and come our way"

"A what? ...can't you guys just stop with all the demon talk?" Isaac complained. "They clearly don't exist." He concluded.

"And even if they found us, would they stand a chance against three vampires? You should be scared of yourselves, not some stinky heap of darkness and evil. You can probably snap their necks like a twig with your superhuman strength." You added, looking at the two people sitting in front of you with narrowed eyes.

"Your words bring me an unimaginable amount of disapproval, MC" Did Arthur always need to have the last word on everything? "So do you." You remarked, finally standing up to make your way to the door, clearly done with the conversation.

Barely seconds after you stepped out in the hallway, you heard the sound of a chair sliding against the floor, followed by the familiar sound of shoes you had learnt to recognize anywhere.

"There's no way I'm staying in that room with those two tortures." Isaac scoffed. "I-I'd rather spend my time with you." His tone was shy, but when reaching for your hand, his touch was bold and yet gentle. At this display of cuteness, you couldn't help but softly press a kiss to his cheek before squeezing his hand in yours. "Shall we head back to your room then?" And as your question was answered with a nod, you two started walking down the dark hallway, hand in hand.

Newton's room was quite far from the small lounge you had borrowed for your spooky night, and minutes passed as a comfortable silence hung between the two of you, steps muffled by the red carpet of the hallway filling resonating softly in the empty corridor.

Letting your mind wander freely during the small walk, you went over the events of the day and the evening in particular. The firm words of scepticism you had thrown at Arthur's way suddenly tumbled on you all at once.

What if... what if something were to happen now? Wouldn't it be funny? How ironic would it be! It was a thought that made your heart race; the possibility of witnessing something uncommon, out of this world and probably life-threatening was something that had always attracted the human heart, and you certainly weren't an exception despite your earlier contradicting statement. Sure, you weighed rationalism way more than matters from the supernatural sphere, and yet you had already been proved wrong once when you arrived to the mansion. So maybe nothing was impossible, right..?

You unconsciously slowed your pace, as if wanting to increase the chances of seeing some kind of paranormal activity, and fortunately enough your twisted prayers were met in the strangest of ways.

Passing by the access to the staircase that took downstairs to the cellar, you heard the most curious of sounds. It wasn't perfectly audible from your position, but you could make out incoherent mumbling and sounds that were human but not quite. Seeing how you had stopped walking, Isaac called out to you. "MC..?" After a few seconds of unresponsiveness, you turned to him, curiosity and a hint of mischief in your excited orbs. "Isaac, I dare you to go down there.” His eyes widened in surprise, and before he knew what what happening, you were pushing his back down the steps, adding in a reassuring whisper:"Don't worry. I'm right behind you." But the way you gripped his shoulder didn't go unnoticed, and it reminded him of when he had done the same thing to you minutes prior. Perhaps, those words of encouragement served to placate your quivering spirits, now slaves to your immense curiosity. The scientist certainly couldn't blame you when it came to that, so he gulped down his fear and, in an spur of bold courage, made his way down the dark, old staircase.

What was driving him was possibly either the wish to appear a bit cooler in your eyes or his innate spirit of in inquiry, maybe both. Meanwhile the weird murmurs and rustles got stronger as you approached the end of the stairs, and with a heart thundering wildly in both of your chests, you peeked into the cold basement. What you saw was...

"What in God's name aRE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Theo, slumped against the floor next to Vincent and a pool of...liquids. The angel was whispering words in his brother's ear while drawing soothing circles with his hand on the man's back. Just as you and your lover stepped into the room a pair of blue eyes flew to your figures in a surprised manner, and the blonde's soft voice found its way to your ears.

"Can you guys... help me out?" He said, slipping his arm under Theo's armpit to try and raise him up while offering you an apologetic smile. "We went to the pub to celebrate my newest painting but I'm afraid he exaggerated a bit... He... Theo is so drunk he fell down the stairs"

At this phrase you burst out laughing and Isaac stifled a giggle at the idea of the gruff man tumbling down like a sack of potatoes, then nodded and moved to help the eldest Van Gogh. The moment your lover got next to to the now half standing drunk vampire, Theo emitted a guttural noise and painted his usual grey vest in a terrifying yellow-ish color that would've looked breathtaking on Vincent's canvas. If it hadn't been... vomit, that is.

As you saw the pink haired vampire stiffen up in disgust, you started laughing even harder, calming down ever so slightly once you remembered how horrible your loudness must feel to someone so hungover. After recovering some much needed air, you went to help the two porters who were struggling to open the door as Theo's wobbly legs threatened to make them all fly down the steps, a smile on your face.

The whole situation took a turn you certainly had never expected, but it satisfied you nonetheless. In such a big house, no moment was to be left to boredom, and you had learned to appreciate and love all these grownup babies so it now felt completely natural to spend a night like this. (One of them had captured your whole heart in particular)

...though you figured someone wasn't going to be equally happy with all the cleaning the next day.

#ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire #ikevamp isaac #isaac newton #answered #my writing

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leonawriter · 5 years

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Smoke and Fox-Fire

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs/Mononoke

Characters: Dazai, Tanizaki, Ranpo, others mentioned/minor appearances. Background skk.

Summary: Dazai comes to a decision, Tanizaki is enlisted and then mildly traumatised, and Ranpo realises that he had made an error of judgement.

Notes: References to less than ideal childhood situations, and potential BSD manga spoilers.

(Part three of the “Not All Kitsune Have Nine Tails” ‘verse. Follows Denning Down.)

...

It was mid-afternoon, so far nothing interesting or dangerous had happened yet, and for the most part, it had been a day of normal work activity- with the only very recent addition of Dazai's more sensitive hearing picking up on more than he would have normally, and the way his tail moving around without him able to actually control it to the fine degree that he sometimes wished he could meaning that things would sometimes... wind up falling off tables.

Things like pens, and pencils, and Kunikida's paperwork...

Anyway, Dazai was bored, and a bored Dazai was never good for the office, far more than a Dazai who simply didn't want to do his work, and part of the reason why he was bored was... it had a lot to do with how much he'd hated pushing all of the things that had made him feel less like he was trying to fit into some role he wasn't suited to play for the past- it hadn't quite been twenty years. A fair bit less. But it was long enough.

Long enough he couldn't really remember that memory he knew that both Atsushi and Chuuya had 'seen' somehow, of him as a small child. Toddling toward his mother, an indistinct person his younger self had only referred to as Mofa-Mofa, something that had had a somewhat less indistinct man laugh and try to correct him to "Mama."

"He knows what he's saying. Don't you, Osamu? Because you like soft things. And Mama is soft."

Reaching out and up to her hair, to clamber into her lap, and getting visibly annoyed when the only thing he touched was hair, and as nice as his seat was, there was no soft thing to grab at or hold onto.

"Not as soft as he thinks, it seems. Maybe he just got attached to that ratty old sweater you were wearing for a while?"

She'd laughed, barking - a little too slow, and he'd somehow been able to hear that even then - and just said, "Maybe."

It'd been a lie, of course. He knew that now. More than that, Atsushi and Chuuya both knew all of the sordid details of childhood - had discovered them with him, all of the repressed memories of how his father had grown colder and had taken his mother for granted, of how she had left-

Too much time meant too much time to think.

It wasn't that the memories themselves hurt, exactly. They were so old, and he could barely remember any of the people in them, even thinking of himself as that small, soft person with no hard edges and no bandages wrapped around his small limbs was an almost alien thought.

Thinking about them for too long meant thinking about what they meant, though, and although there were many thing he had let go of, that he'd had to let go of, in order to stop and break away from everything and let himself start anew, even though he knew the truth... it was one thing to know, to come to a decision and move on. Another to know what to do after that.

Perhaps, he wondered, he still held more than a little resentment. Not directed at anyone in particular, anymore. But just in general.

The Agency's clock ticked another half hour gone.

Dazai blinked up at the ceiling from the sofa, and reassured himself with the familiar buzz of office noise and voices.

The point was - the point of it all was, that he didn't exactly enjoy going out and having to hide the fur under his skin in such a way, when it didn't want to stay under like that. It made him itch all over, like he'd wrapped his bandages on too tight, or too roughly, something catching at him all the time whenever he paid it too much mind.

The thought kept striking him, as he went to and from Chuuya's to the Agency and out again for other reasons, that even with everything hidden, someone would see him, and it wouldn't matter to them that they shouldn't be able to - someone from outside of the Agency or even the mafia who wasn't a spirit or demon themself would see, they would notice something off. He'd say something wrong. A stumble on the pavement. His heart would hammer in his chest.

He'd never felt so uneasy with the thought of being seen before, and he wasn't so bothered about it when he was in the Agency or Chuuya's place, so what was it that was so different? Other than the sheer amount of people, of course. And people he didn't know. People who would just look at him, and judge him.

It felt like having a loose bandage somewhere on his arm, or his neck, which he hadn't been able to fix and that at any moment, might unravel further than he could handle, but he was always a little too far from somewhere private enough to fix it.

...

"Ta-ni-za-ki-kun...."

He jumps maybe a foot in the air from where he'd been sitting at his desk, or it feels that way, and it shows by the amount of strange, unrelated letters and words that had just appeared on the report he'd been working on for the simple recon mission he'd been sent on yesterday.

It wasn't unsalvageable. At least he hadn't already pressed send.

"Uh... Dazai-san?"

It wasn't as if he's not used to Dazai's antics. He is. He's just not so used to them being aimed at him - Kunikida, yes, and Atsushi now too, but up until now he'd somehow managed to not get hit with the worst of it.

Perhaps this was only happening because Kunikida and Atsushi were outside, and from the sounds of things working on Atsushi's training.

And now his ex-mafia coworker is staring at him with wide eyes and a too-wide smile on his face for it to mean anything good, and those new ears of his are pointed upright at attention on the top of his head. Which would be more unnerving if it wasn't the second day of it, and he hadn't already seen Atsushi transform often enough to almost become used to human beings with animal features.

...Well. Mostly human, in Dazai's case. Which was also going to take some getting used to.

"You see Tanizaki-kun, I have a problem and I was starting to realise that you might be the only one I can go to who might be able to help me with this problem. You will help me, won't you?"

He found himself staring. Dazai didn't move. He only blinked.

"I, uh... are you sure I'm the only who can help you? I mean, there's everyone else, and-"

"Nooo.... no, see, it absolutely has to be you. I mean, as far as I'm aware, you're the only one I know who uses illusions. So it has to be you."

"Uh-" For a moment, his mind blanks out. But that's when one of Dazai's new ears twitches, and he starts to get a sinking feeling. "No... no. No, I'm not just following you around all the time so you can go out like that in public. It'd fail the moment I bumped into you anyway, so it'd definitely not work at all."

He gets the feeling that he's either said the wrong thing or there's something he hadn't thought of, because Dazai isn't smiling as much anymore, but hopefully if he's realised how this won't work he'll leave him alone and then he can just get on with his work.

"You misunderstand," Dazai says, sounding far too serious for someone several years older than him who's still crouching on the floor so that his head's just barely looking over the top of his desk. "I wasn't asking for you to use your ability. What I was after was a... second opinion, of sorts. I wanted to know how you use it."

"You- okay?"

"I need to know. Because of reasons."

"Don't you already know how my ability works, though...?"

And now he didn't just look serious, or frowning, he looks downright frustrated, and he doesn't even know what he's said wrong.

"If you want to say something, just come out and say it, Dazai."

Ranpo's voice comes loud and clear over the noise and distance of the office between them.

Ranpo, who doesn't seem all that surprised, or at all bothered, by what was going on. Which at least eased up the pressure of the idea that whatever was going on, it was another imminent disaster or emergency.

Dazai hesitated, and then stood up, which now meant that instead of looking across his desk to meet his eyes, Junichiro needed to look up given he was still sitting down. His hands were in his coat's pockets and his expression wasn't really giving all that much away, but something about the tail and ears moving - even if he didn't know all that much about animal body language, or fox behaviour for that matter - suggested that he was agitated. Which wasn't saying much, but when it was Dazai, and he wouldn't have known that if he couldn't see the fur move...

"What I've been trying to say is, I'm not asking for the sake of learning about your ability. I already know as much as I need to know about that. What I'm asking for is... I need to be able to learn more about how to control my own illusions. I thought that asking you would help."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, because he didn't know what to say-

"But you don't have an illusion-based ability?"

"Do the changes to my body look like the result of an ability to you, Tanizaki-kun?"

"W-well, when you say it like that- not... not really... no? I just. It's strange to think of you having that kind of ability- uh... is that even the right kind of term for something like this?" He sighed, and saved his work. Kunikida was going to be annoyed about the drop in productivity but... "Hang on, I'm guessing if this isn't an ability, that means the Director's doesn't work on it, right?"

"Nope." It was kind of unnerving, the way that while he glanced over to see Ranpo looking in their direction, Dazai didn't move at all. Actually, no, that wasn't true - a part of him did move. A single ear. "Youkai magic doesn't run on the same rules. Because of that, Dazai might be hit by magic that he'd have automatically nullified if it was an ability." Which wasn't worrying or anything at all, clearly. And reminds him of what they'd been told about Lovecraft. Which made remembering what he'd managed to do feel like some sort of small miracle. "Which is both good and bad. But right now, the important thing is that no, the Director's ability doesn't work on it, so if Dazai wants to take control back..."

...He'll have to learn it the same way everyone else does, if they aren't in the Agency, Tanizaki finished.

"I guess that does make sense," he admits.

"So... how did you first get Light Snow under control? Unless-"

A sudden warmth from behind is all of the warning he gets before he feels familiar arms wrap around his front, and Naomi's speaking from right beside his ear.

"No, nii-sama did have some control back then, didn't you~?"

His mind goes blank against his will as the memories come to him, and it's only partly because he still really wishes that she'd stop acting like that and making a scene in public-

It's like how when Atsushi had brought up their entrance exams. He could still barely remember his other than the sheer terror and adrenaline that had kept him going. He'd prefer not to remember, if that was an option. He'd really like not to.

"I, uh," his brain stutters back to being able to function, which is harder than it should be with Naomi still clinging onto him. "That's- how about, we just go with, um- something simple. Like, what your upper and lower limits are."

Dazai blinks at him.

He gets the unnerving feeling that he's just broadcast everything he'd just been thinking about and not meant to outright say without having needed to say anything. For once, he doesn't mind Naomi's public clinging, because it gives him that slight feeling of support that he really needed. Even if he did wish she wouldn't-

"Okay. I think that I can safely say that I know what my upper limits are... but I really need to figure out how to do anything smaller than that."

"I... okay? Okay. So. What... is that, exactly?" What's making this awkward is that he's really starting to wish that Dazai had been able to go to, say, Kunikida about this. At least he had experience knowing how to teach people! Meanwhile, he just had experience being anxious and not knowing what to do, unless it meant infiltration and covert ops, which was exactly why the Port Mafia's boss had singled him out from everyone at the Agency to do some sort of exchange program thing at some unspecified time- he had no idea what he was doing, or where to start. "I mean, are those upper limits big, or is it, something we're going to need to work on later as well?"

"My upper limits get people hurt, they don't need improving-"

"Kitsune illusions aren't hard light, Dazai," Ranpo says, cutting across the conversation and whatever Junichiro himself might have been about to say, and he sounds annoyed, frustrated. It's his 'people are being stupid' voice. "They just show people things that aren't there! Don't talk tough when all you can do is-"

"Allow me to correct myself, then," Dazai says, and all of a sudden Junichiro is wishing he was somewhere else, anywhere else. And, mostly, that Dazai wasn't using that tone of voice on another member of the Agency like that. "My upper limits have hurt people. Is that enough?"

"But it's impossible."

Dazai seems to just... stare, unreadable, while their best detective calms down. What was strange was that he knew perfectly well how destructive illusions could be - he'd done things he wouldn't normally even consider, when people had threatened Naomi, endangering lives easily, even. But Ranpo and Dazai were talking about kitsune illusions like they were something entirely different.

"...I'm sure that if you asked," Dazai said, the words sounding heavy and weighted, "about what happened the other day... then Kunikida-kun would say otherwise."

Junichiro had seen and heard things the other day that had told him as much, but if he hadn't believed it then, the odd noise that somehow came out of Ranpo when Dazai said that confirmed that there was definitely something up with him as well. He had to wonder if maybe he was showing it more because now it wasn't just him, but Dazai, and everyone else, so he felt more comfortable about it.

Part of him hoped that was the case, at least.

He feels Naomi hold him tighter, and the fact that her hands had stopped wandering a while back says a lot about how she just wants to have someone to hold onto as well, right now.

"...Inari bless you," he hears Ranpo say, quietly enough that if he hadn't been straining his ears to hear it, he thinks he probably wouldn't have. "That was you. You were- I mean, of course it was you, but I just- thought that-"

"Does any of that even matter? All that matters right now is me figuring out how to get a hold of and control what I can do now."

"From... scratch."

I was wrong, Junichiro admits to himself in the privacy of his own mind, watching the exchange in front of him, Dazai slipping back into his mafia game face isn't the scariest thing in the world.

The scariest thing in the world is Ranpo looking like he hasn't got a clue what's going on anymore.

...

Inari bless you is what keeps circling around in Ranpo's head, even through the rest of what he's saying, the rest of what Dazai's saying, even though he knows the others are watching.

Somehow, the fact that it had been Dazai who'd been the second mononoke, who'd come into work the next day small and red and fluffy and acting like everything was new, had caught him off guard. Because it was Dazai, who was one of his few equals in terms of intellect and smarts in not just the Agency, but anywhere.

Because it was Dazai, he'd just assumed without even thinking, that he'd just... forgotten everything, somehow.

With a mononoke that strong, it would have made sense if Dazai were older. And if he was just as young as he said he was, then to have become as powerful that quickly made sense too, because it was Dazai.

But there were two different ways a mononoke could be created.

One was the most common way - a spirit got mixed up with a human, or human emotions, and when everything got intense enough, usually because of grief or anger or confusion or hate or just needing things to be sorted out right, a mononoke would be born. Drawing people in and destroying them. Things that weren't supposed to exist, and that had to be exorcised.

The other way... was by the spirit and human sides of the equation being mixed up right from the start. Both more stable, but also a potential ticking time bomb if things really went wrong-

Hanyou. Half-human kids.

They weren't exactly unheard of, they weren't discriminated against or anything. They were just... rare. Because things went wrong. Because humans could be cruel, and petty, and just as fickle with their attentions as they thought cats were. People got hurt, and... the kids usually got caught in the crossfire.

Usually it wasn't too bad. Usually they could handle things, found their own place in the world, settled down either on one side or the other, or found a decent middle ground.

Dazai, though - if this was true, then Dazai was the worst case scenario, where none of that happened and they never did, and it- explained too much. About everything.

Dazai wasn't just young, he was practically a kit still, by normal adult kitsune standards, but by human standards he was already an adult. Not one thing or the other. Having somehow never learned anything.

"All right," Ranpo said, "how about we start off slow, then? Basics. I'm nekomata, not kitsune, but I'm not stupid, I do know some things you should be capable of. Other than the shapeshifting."

"But I want control," Dazai said, somehow sounding like he was whining even when he was almost completely blank-faced. "Not to learn how to do more."

"This is control. Most of what you should be able to do is going to come naturally to you at some point, so it's better you learn now, rather than have it all blow up in your face."

Again, he holds back from saying.

He knows he isn't good at reading when things are rude or not when talking with people, but Dazai's like an adult cat who's forgotten how to use his claws. Or what his whiskers do.

Which isn't even exactly right, because as a hanyou, Dazai probably hadn't ever even learned in the first place to be able to forget.

He sighed, when Dazai still wasn't doing anything.

"Hey, Tanizaki - you don't think about using your ability, right? Like, it's got to be activated on purpose, but it's like Kunikida's, you just do it."

"Uh- yeah, I... I think that's pretty much how it works? I just-"

"Right," he continued, now that the important things had all been said, "so just - stop thinking about how and starting thinking of... I don't know, what's the smallest and most simple thing you can think of, Dazai?"

For a moment, no response. Which was starting to get more than a bit frustrating, because it wasn't like he was asking much-

And now Dazai was probably thinking he was being subtle, which he wasn't.

As subtle as a kit with a crush pulling that person's tail, Ranpo thinks snidely, but doesn't say. Then again, Poe was an adult human and he was just as clueless about how these things went. Not to mention how long Yosano had been trying to drag Kunikida into loosening up, and... well. It wasn't like it was anything out of the ordinary, he supposed, but what it was, was frustrating to watch. Even Poe's cluelessness got frustrating at times, as cute as it was.

"Come on, Dazai, you can think of something, we haven't got all day, you know..."

He just hoped that mentioning something small didn't get them a miniature - if illusionary - mafia executive in the offices.

"Uh, Ranpo-san, do you really think it's a good idea to push him like that, I mean- if-"

"Psh- Dazai only knows what he can do under pressure." He rolled his eyes, and then looked back at Dazai. "You're not going to get anything done if you think it's a great idea to put a mental block on things just because you think you're suddenly dangerous just because you blew up one time. So stop making a firestorm of a little fox-fire."

He stares for a moment longer, just long enough to smugly catch the slight expression of shock on the former mafioso's face, and turned away again, reaching back into the open bag of sweets he'd mixed up earlier.

He's already started to lose track of how many he's chewed on by the time he hears footsteps outside near the door - that could only be Kunikida and an exhausted and frustrated Atsushi, back from their training session - and already starting to wonder how long it's going to be before he gets any more good cases, his hand reaching back for another one, when-

"Dazai." Kunikida's voice was level and quiet, which on anyone else was probably supposed to be giving the impression they were keeping their cool, but on Kunikida... "Why is there fire floating over your paperwork?"

He blinked.

The snack still in his hand, he twisted so that he could turn to see, and there Dazai was, staring at the pile, which certainly looked like it was only a moment away from being set on fire.

"I can't touch it," Dazai was saying, dramatically serious. "If I touch it, then it's going to turn real, and then it really will burn all my paperwork. And my desk. Which would be awful. Wouldn't you agree, Kunikida-kun? So as you can see, there's absolutely no way I can do any of it."

Kunikida stared at the fox-fire with the intensity of someone who really didn't know what was going on, whose brain had already come close to breaking just the previous day.

Slowly, he turned away from Dazai's desk, eyes wide like he was questioning all of his life choices at once.

"Is... is that true?"

Tanizaki just shrugged awkwardly. Kenji was staring, but seemed more entranced with the idea that it was possible than anything. Atsushi seemed like he was the only one who wasn't really sure what to believe, which made sense, given he was one of the only other youkai in the office.

Ranpo just grinned, and purposefully put the snack into his mouth.

"How should I know? It's Dazai, isn't it?"

Of course he knew the fire was just fake. It was the same stuff foxes in the forests used to both mess around with humans and to lead them back on track. But he couldn't just lead everyone around by the hand. For one thing, they had to figure things out for themselves, there had to be at least some things they could do without him - and for another thing, things would just be boring if he did.

...

AN: "Mama" is a common way for young children to call their mother, as much as "Haha-ue" and "Kaa-san".

"Mofu-mofu", meanwhile, is the Japanese onomatopoeia for "soft", and "fluffy".

Baby Dazai was basically mixing the two up and calling her "Muffy" or something like that - because his mama was fluffy, of course.

My first experience with hanyou was Inuyasha, but the way it was handled (only human on a new moon) annoyed me a lot, and I feel wasn't a good portrayal of a half-human character, so... this is more a mix of other things I've seen since then.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd stuff #kitsune dazai #Leona fic #bsd mnnk au

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yellowcanna · 5 years

Text

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi)

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

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CHAPTER 2

TALES FROM 14 YEARS (PART 1)

“What is this…?” Yagi Toshinori mumbled as he stared at the people that filled the street.

Feeling something collided against his side, he looked down to see a man dressed in a gray business suit holding a leather bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other. The man stumbled and was about to fall back so blond put a hand on his shoulder to help him steady.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

The businessman looked up at the foreigner in shock, obviously having never met anyone as big and muscular as him before. Giving the huge man an apology, he hurried away while resuming his conversation on the phone.

A group of girls in school uniforms passed by, chatting about a new pastry store that just opened down the street.

A family of three crossed the street, the child was sitting on the father's shoulder while the mother pushed along a toy wagon. The two adults were laughing along with whatever the child was chattering.

This was not what he had expected when he infiltrated the infamous criminal city.

Toshinori gazed up at the five black buildings that towered over the rest, stretching towards the sky like iron pillars.

At the very least, he wasn't expecting the city to be so well-kept and modernize. He had imagined a city where civilians lived in constant terror of the criminals that ruled over them. He had imagined bad guys running around freely in an extremely run-down town, attacking people just for entertainment.

Never had he expected everything to be so…normal.

This was just like an ordinary, everyday city he had been to.

No—Toshinori paused as he looked around. There was something different about this place than the outside world. Something was lacking, but what?

After going into a deep thought…realization finally slapped him in the face.

"I'm standing out!" He gasped, somehow managing to keep his outburst to a strained whisper as he stared at the people around him. In a city of Old Humans who were all frail and small looking, he was sticking out like a sore thumb! On top of that, since he had expected to jump into battle the moment he infiltrated the city, he was in his muscle form, making him bulkier than normal!

Toshinori slumped shoulders as if that would make him look smaller as he headed for the nearest clothing store. Perhaps he could at least find something to cover himself and make him stand out less.

Alas, Toshinori soon discovered the harsh reality as he dragged his feet out the department store. Apparently, Yokohama's currency was very different than the rest of Japan.

Of course it would be! Why wouldn’t it?!

“Shiiiit!” He cried out in English, earning funning looks from the people around him. However, Toshinori could hardly care about other people’s gazes right now as he tried to figure out what to do.

There’s no way he could go into a bank, that would give him away...

“If you’re looking for a bank, it’s over there.” A voice spoke up.

Toshinori looked around but didn't see anyone.

“Down here.” The voice called again.

Toshinori lowered his gaze until he saw a young boy with raven black hair, sucking on a lollipop as he "looked" up at him. Actually, the blond wasn't certain if the boy was looking at him or not, as he couldn't tell if those eyes were even open.

“Hello there, young man!” He greeted with his trademark smile. He crouched down, trying to get as low as he can so the child wouldn't be intimidated by his size. The boy was very young…twelve perhaps?

The kid rolled the lollipop around his tongue as he regarded the No.1 Hero.

“…You’re not good at this undercover thing are you, mister?”

“What?!” Toshinori spluttered, jumping back in shock. “W-what makes you think that, lad?”

“Well, for one, you’re a foreigner.” The boy stated flatly, pointing out the obvious. “We don’t have a lot of you guys around here.”

“N-nonsense! I just—”

“I won’t tell anyone.” The boy said, cutting off the adult’s frantic explanation. He pulled his lollipop out of his mouth with a pop and used it to point at a building across the street. “You can exchange your money at that bank.”

Toshinori instantly calmed as he stared at the child. “What do you mean, boy?”

“How do you think we get money when we leave Yokohama? Of course the bank offers currency exchange.”

“You can leave the city?!” Toshinori couldn't help but exclaim.

“Yeah.” The boy responded as if it was the most obvious thing. "Did you think we were shut in here and can't get out?”

“Wait!” Toshinori held out a hand, needing some time to sort out this new piece of information. The people here can leave? Why has he never heard of it?

“Can you tell me more about Yokohama, boy?”

“Sure.” The boy chirped, stuffing the lollipop back into his mouth as his lips stretched apart in a Cheshire cat smile.

Half an hour later, Toshinori sat on a wooden bench in a park. The boy was beside him, licking on a three scoop ice cream cone with three large bags of snacks beside him.

“Thanks, mister!" The boy sang cheerfully as he swung his legs back and forth. Toshinori looked down at his flattened wallet, then to the kid.

When did children become so frightening?

"Hey, mister! Open this for me!" The boy called, waving a can of juice to get his attention.

“Of course.” Toshinori smiled at the boy's enthusiasm. At least he now has useable cash.

He popped open the can and handed it back to the boy. The boy grinned as he reached out to take the juice. The moment Toshinori let go, the can slipped from the child's small hand and fell onto the man’s lap.

"Ah!" The boy cried, snatching the can before it could bounce off and hit the ground. Since he caught it upside down, the juice was still pouring onto a certain hero's pant.

“…”

"Oh no…" The boy frowned, shaking the now empty can and looking at it sadly.

“Do you want me to buy you a new one?” Toshinori offered, pulling out a pink flower-print handkerchief to dap the wet spot on his pants.

“Nope!” The boy replied as he tossed the empty juice can into the trash bin beside them. "So, what do ya wanna know?” He sang, his mood suddenly doing a hundred and eighty. The mourning for his juice went by so fast that Toshinori almost couldn’t react.

“Do you know anything about Ability users?” The blond asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure if such a young child would know anything, but any information was helpful at this point.

“Nothing much.” The boy hummed. "It's pretty much just like your Quirks, though some of them need conditions to activate.”

"You seemed to know a lot of Quirks." Toshinori noticed. "Have you been outside Yokohama before?"

"Nope, it's broadcasted all the time on TV."

“TV?!” Just like that, his vision of Yokohama was shattered once more. "You have TV?! No! You have outside channels?!"

"Of course, we aren't cavemen. We get channels from all over the world." The boy seemed amused by the adult’s reaction. “Like that America’s Tunneling Hero from three days ago. It was obvious a Villain would get to him sooner or later. He put too much trust on his sensor Quirk.”

Toshinori stiffened as he listened to this boy talking so casually about a fallen Hero. He finally realized what was wrong with this city compare to the outside.

The people here were living without knowing the fear of Villains. Even this boy, he watched a live broadcast of a Villain beating a Hero and treated it like some action movie. They could not understand the terror and unease people felt when a Villain defeated a Hero and ran free.

To them, the dangers of the outside world don’t affect them.

And that was where Yoshinori finally realized another major difference between this city and the rest of the world.

It was too quiet.

Distracted by the sight of the city, Toshinori had failed to notice something so obvious. He entered Yokohama for half a day now, yet he hadn't heard a single cry for help.

It was something he never even thought was possible. Even after he was ranked as the No.1 Hero, crime still existed everywhere. He could go to the convenience store and come back with three freshly caught Villains.

Yet here in Yokohama, there wasn't the slightest bit of disturbance anywhere.

And more importantly…

“Wait! If you got channels, then that means…!!”

“Yep.” The boy snickered as he dug around his bags of treats. "Your identity is as clear as day, No.1 Hero, All Might."

For the next ten minutes, the people of Yokohama were able to witness an amazing sight in a local park.

A gigantic blond man was all curled up on a wooden bench. He had his knees pulled against his chest with his face buried within his hand. Beside him sat a tiny boy who was completely covered by the giant's shadow. He was munching on a freshly baked Taiyaki without a care in the world.

"Mommy, what's that?" A little girl asked, pointing at the curled up giant.

“Oh my,” The mother had a hand on her cheek, tilting her head as she looked at the quivering man her daughter was pointing at. “That is a Hikikomori, sweetie.”

"What's that?" The girl blinked in curiosity.

“Hikikomori are adults who are afraid of being outside.”

"Why?" The girl looked even more confused now. "Is there something scary here?"

"Of course not!" The mother said as she took her daughter’s hand. “That’s why you mustn’t grow up to become one of them.”

“Is it bad to be them?”

“Of course, darling.” The mother smiles brightly and spoke the cruel words with a sugary voice. "If you become someone so useless and unnecessary to society, mommy and daddy will be really sad.”

"I won't make mommy and daddy sad! I won’t be a Hi…Hikikomori!”

“Good girl!”

The mother and daughter left the park hand in hand. If that woman had the Ability or Quirk to make her words take physical shape, they would no doubt be arrows stabbing into the so-called Hikikomori.

The raven-haired boy turned to the useless and unnecessary No.1 Hero currently being worshipped around the globe. The man had stopped shaking from embarrassment and became painfully still. Slowly and robotically, he uncurled himself. His right foot touched the ground first, followed by his left.

They sat there in silence for a long moment until the man coughed into his hand as if that would help with the awkwardness.

“S-so young man, you said that some Ability needs, uh, condition?” The Hero asked, going back into their previous topic.

“Correct!” The boy beamed as if he had been waiting for the man to ask him that. Thank goodness the kid didn't mention anything of what just happened, or Toshinori might really die from embarrassment.

“Like my Ability for example!”

Ocean blue eyes widened as the American watched the boy took out a pair of glasses.

Did he hear right?

Did the boy said he was one of those Ability users?

“When I put on these glasses, I can activate my Ability, Ultra-Deduction!”

“Ultra-Deduction?” Toshinori parroted.

“Yep! My Ability will let me see the truth behind every mystery! One glance at a person and I'll know everything about them there is to know!”

Toshinori swallowed as he watched the boy puts on his glasses.

“Ability: Ultra-Deduction!”

“…”

The man waited and waited, but nothing seemed different.

“Hmm, so that’s how it is~” The boy smirked as he adjusted his glasses. And then, those eyelids peeled open, revealing bright emerald eyes sharply staring into the older man's blue ones.

Toshinori’s breath hitched the moment he saw those eyes.

Those were not the eyes children should have. There was no childish innocence or curiosity anywhere within those emerald orbs. The moment Toshinori stared into those eyes, he felt as if all his secrets were exposed to this boy. As if the boy could just see through him with a simple glance like he claimed he could.

“Say Mister…which generation are you of inheriting that power?”

“…!” Toshinori shot out of his seat in shock. His heart hammered heavily within his ribcage as he stared at the boy in disbelieve.

“Your powers are way too strong. If it was an Ability, it wouldn’t be surprising, but yours is a Quirk, and Quirk’s powers are limited by the body of the user." The boy explained, waving his finger around in the air. "From the abnormal strength of your power, there can only be one conclusion."

Then, his finger pointed to the man.

"Your power is the type that grows every time it gets transfer to the next host. In other words, it can stack up the power of its host. Which means you must be the seventh," green eyes narrowed, "no, eighth generation."

A large droplet of sweat rolled down Toshinori’s head.

What is this kid?

Was that really all just from his Ability?

If that was his Ability, then just how strong was this boy's power? If the world was to know the existence of this kind of power, Toshinori was certain both Villains and Governments will do anything to get a hold of this boy, even if it means breaking into this city and confronting the Port Mafia.

“Since you bought me snacks, I’ll give you a warning, mister!” The boy said before his face became serious. “You should go back.”

Toshinori stared at the child, still unable to recover from the shock.

"This place isn't suitable for people like you." Green eyes darted downward, then back up to meet the American's. He mouthed out the last part, “They know you’re here.”

With that, the boy took off his glasses, carefully tucking it into his pocket before grabbing the remainder of his snacks.

“Bye, bye, mister! See you later!”

With that, he scurried away, leaving a completely frozen man standing alone in the park.

Toshinori stood there for a long time. Then, as if nothing had happened, the blond giant strolled out of the park.

He searched around the area before finding a hotel and booked a night there.

The hotel wasn't a particularly big one. It was only seven stories tall and the staff arranged him a room on the top floor. Coincidentally, that room was also on the side with the perfect view of Port Mafia's headquarters.

The first thing Toshinori did after going into his room was to shut himself in the bathroom. He looked around, checking for any surveillances. When the room was all clear, Toshinori looked down at his pants.

He slowly reached into one of the pockets on the side of his leg. The fabric there was still damp from the juice. He felt around until his finger brushed by a cubic object. Carefully, he pulled that thing out and brought it up to his eyes.

It was a tiny black box-like device. It didn't look anything like the kind the Hero was familiar with, but there's no doubt that this was a tracking device.

“Since when?” Toshinori gritted his teeth, unable to believe that he was this careless. When did they start watching him? How long had they been watching him?

Toshinori thought back to when that child dropped his juice. That wasn't an accident. That boy knew there was a listening device on him. He knew and pretended to spill his juice to jam it so that whoever was on the other side wouldn't overhear them.

How could this be?

The only thing Toshinori could think of right now was the boy. Was he safe? If these criminals realized the boy had helped him, will he be targeted?

Toshinori crushed the device in his hand, grinding it into dust. He walked out of the bathroom, gazing out the window and to those five black buildings looming over him.

“Calm down…” Toshinori told himself repeatedly.

That child was safe. He was far more intelligent than even most adults. Even so, his safety will only be temporary. The enemy’s eyes may be on him right now, but…

「If he lets it drag on, then we might change target—is what he’ll think.」

The enemy might grow impatient and turn their eyes to the boy. To ensure that boy's safety, there was only one thing Toshinori can do…

「So his only option will be to confront us.」

He will find the Port Mafia before they find the boy.

「Will he charge into the Headquarter?」

「No.」

Toshinori thought of charging into the Port Mafia base, but that will be too risky. First, he has no idea if there are any innocent people in there. Second, if he pushed the Port Mafia to the corner, there was no telling what they will do. At any given time, this entire city could become hostage used against him.

He has too little information, but he couldn’t afford to wait until he’s prepared like he originally planned. If he doesn't act, the Port Mafia might go after that boy and he won't let that happen.

The blond turned and looked around the table before finding a map within the stack of advertisements and coupons.

「He will use the map.」

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

On the highest floor of the Port Mafia headquarters, a young boy wrapped in bandages stood by the window, staring at the hotel below them.

A man quietly stood behind him, dutifully waiting for orders with his hands folded behind his back. His raven hair mixed with gray ones were swept back over his head. He wore a monocle over his right eye, secured by a gold chain.

He observed the child he had been assigned to. While he was unable to understand his boss's decision, he didn't question his orders. He treated this child like any other commanding officers, disregarding the fact that the boy was just eight years old.

In Yokohama, age is irrelevant as long as the individual has the talent.

“Tell the tails to let the target notice them.” The boy ordered. “Don’t make it too obvious.”

“Yes.” The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a black flip phone and began typing the new order to his subordinates.

“Say, Hirotsu-san…” The boy looked over his shoulder as those dull eyes stared at the tall man behind him. “Do you know what the biggest difference between Heroes and Villains is?"

“I do not," Hirotsu replied.

If the people of the outside world were to be asked that question, they could probably write up a whole book to define the differences between Heroes and Villains.

The best example they will use would be to talk about how evil and justice were like two sides of a coin. These are two sides that can never meet face to face. If one looks up, the other must look down. However, to the Port Mafia, they may be two sides of a coin, but in the end they were still the same coin.

“Villains devise plans and Heroes break their plans. A good Villain need to have a good brain, but Hero doesn’t need that. What they need is the power to overcome obstacles. As long as they are strong, they can overcome anything.” The child muttered, sounding extremely bored with that kind of concept.

“There are three fundamentals for Heroes and Villains. For Heroes, it’s to rescue, protect and defeat. For Villains, it's to destroy, kill and take. Evil does evil for the sake of evil; justice does justice for the sake of justice. It's a very simplistic world outside."

Hirotsu didn't say anything. He stood there quietly when a buzzing sound followed by strong vibrations came from his pocket. He pulled out his phone again and looked down at the caller ID. With the phone centered in his palm, he bowed and presented it to the child.

The boy didn’t even look at the phone as he took it and put it against his ear.

“Mori-san.” He greeted the person on the other side without a beat.

“Dazai-kun.” Came the voice on the other end. “How are the preparations for our guest?”

“All according to plan.” Was the short and simple answer.

“Excellent. I will be expecting him in my office at eight o’clock tomorrow.”

With that, the person on the other side hung up. The child handed the phone back to Hirotsu and gazed up at the crimson sky that was painted by the setting sun.

“Hirotsu-san, I believe we have two new additions that came in last month. Bring them with you.”

Hirotsu furrowed his brows, needing a couple of seconds before he remembered which two the boy was referring to.

“They have just begun their training period and are still new to the organization. We have far more experienced members with suitable Abilities that can—”

“No need.” Dazai coldly cut the older man off. He turned away from the window, giving one last look to the hotel before taking his leave.

“Those two are more than enough.”

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#bungou stray dogs #my hero academia #soukoku #CrossOver #dazaixchuuya #shin soukoku

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bungostraythoughts · 6 years

Text

Soukoku fic: The Underneath you share (with me)

Pairing:Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Dazai can be a bit much at times, and it's a good thing Chuuya has maturity and grace enough in him now to see them through it. Read it on Ao3.

-----

...Chuuya was no stranger to lashing out when he simply couldn’t hold every black feeling he had inside of himself anymore. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning over the table to push Dazai upright and backwards into a seated position. He stared at the tired, empty looking man before him.

“I won’t play games with you tonight, Dazai, I get enough of that from fucking Mori.”

Dazai’s eyes flashed darkly. “Don’t compare me to him.”

Read more below or on Ao3.

Chuuya returned home late that night after a draining, fruitless stakeout job, much nearer to dawn than dusk. He opened and shut the door with exaggerated slowness, so as not to disturb the silence of the apartment. As he crept over the threshold to hang his coat and hat on the rack, however, his eyes tracked an angle of light coming from the kitchen.

So, Dazai was still awake. He touched the long tan coat, now hanging beside his and felt that the lining was still warm. Dazai had come home recently then. Somewhat atypical for him, as the ADA didn’t usually keep the same ungodly hours for its staff which the mafia thrived upon.

He called out a tired, “I’m home,” and went about unpacking a bit less discreetly, walking into the kitchen to find Dazai’s lanky form seated and hunched over, head pressed face down into the table, with one finger swirling idly through a half-empty glass of whisky.

Shit.

Chuuya didn’t make executive for the mafia without a keen sense of impending fucking doom, and so he went directly to the wine cabinet and drew up a bottle of merlot, uncorking it between his teeth with practiced ease and only a little desperation. Dazai made no motion to acknowledge his presence.

Shit. This was really not, entirely, what Chuuya needed right now. He approached the counter across from Dazai with a veil of indifference that he hoped conveyed just the slightest hint of concern. Dazai’s mind spun wildly at times, and Chuuya would rather not be caught in any chaos with what was left of his very, very long day.

“Bad day, Dazai?”

Dazai shrugged. “Always.”

Ah, so very bad then. Chuuya placed the Merlot on the counter to let it breathe. “So what happened?”

“Nothing you can solve, little lab rat.” Dazai shifted his head to face him, left cheek still pressed against the table, and his eyes gleamed with a wickedness Chuuya hadn’t seen in a long while.

“Tch-” He drew a sharp breath to steady himself, and then Dazai smiled cruelly, like he had just won something. And that...

That stung. It hurt so much that Dazai would still do this, still press on his past traumas after all this time like it meant fucking nothing,that Chuuya almost took the bait and tore his ugly fucking bandaged throat out. But...

As he breathed, and looked… and breathed, he found that he could see the edges of pain around the wickedness. He could mark the tightness in Dazai’s gaze.

Chuuya was no stranger to lashing out when he simply couldn’t hold every black feeling he had inside of himself anymore. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning over the counter to push Dazai upright and backwards into a seated position. He stared at the tired, empty looking man before him.

“I won’t play games with you tonight, Dazai, I get enough of that from fucking Mori.”

Dazai’s eyes flashed darkly. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Then don’t act like him, Osamu.” Chuuya sighed. Silence stretched out between them like a wide river until something almost imperceptible shifted in Dazai, which for Chuuya looked a hell of a lot like defeat.

Dazai’s eyes bled from cruel to vacant. Empty.

“Touché, partner.” He raised his glass in a small salute before draining it.

“I’m not your partner, shitty Dazai.” Chuuya cursed. Present crisis avoided, the mafia turned his back on Dazai and walked over to the cabinets, pulling and setting out a glass and pouring himself of the wine he had opened earlier.

Dazai pushed his empty whisky tumbler towards Chuuya’s hands feebly, and his eyes spoke dangerous secrets like please, and I’m sorry.

Chuuya pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and poured him a quarter glass of whiskey. He really should’ve thanked Kouyou more extravagantly for that emotion management development coursework she forced him to sit through. If he was going to attempt something that even smelled like a relationship with Dazai…

…Maybe he could send her an edible arrangement. Or something.

“So, what happened?”

“Simply, mon petit mafia, the Agency’s mission failed. We were trying to bust a trafficking ring, and I had collected intel that they would…” Dazai sighed, sipping at the liquor Chuuya had given him. “I acquired bad intel… they were supposed to move the girls out tonight, from the stationary warehouse on Hualien street, however, upon arrival, we were greeted by a team of guerrilla fighters instead.”

Dazai sighed. “They had moved the girls to a third location last night and so, because of me, our opportune moment passed us by~” Dazai whined, staring into his glass, voice growing quiet…

“Odasaku wouldn’t have…”

Nope. Not this shit again. Chuuya could tolerate a lot of Dazai’s strange ruminations, but he drew the line at listening to all the things the mackerel imagined Oda ‘perfect human’ Sakunosuke would do, say, or think about whatever was going on in the present. All those paths only lead Dazai closer to another suicide attempt.

“Shut up, mackerel.” Chuuya deadpanned.

“What~??” Dazai whined. “But Chibi asked me to tell him about my day~”

“Yea, that was back when I thought you had something fucking relevant to say. A shit job is a shit job, don’t sit here and act like you don’t already have 347 contingencies to find whoever you missed today in place, eh?”

Dazai blinked, looking away.

“Eh?!” Chuuya stared at his lover full on, trying to convey both inhuman annoyance and unwavering faith in the lanky asshole’s ability.

Something shifted in the taller man’s face too quickly for Chuuya to catch. Dazai drained his glass and lowered it to the counter.

“Will Chibi take a shower with me, then?”

“Fuck- Dazai, it’s like 3am…”

“But quite frankly, Chuuya smells weird is what I’m saying.” And just like that Dazai was back to his typical façade of bullshit.

He’d have to send Kouyou a gift card for a massage with the arrangement. Maybe one for himself as well.

“Come here, idiot.” Chuuya said as he hauled Dazai’s lanky ass off the bar stool.

- / - / -

Chuuya let the water heat up while he stripped Dazai of his bandages and his idiotic pretenses, scars all laid bare. If the pasty mackerel thought he was getting away with what he said earlier he had another thing fucking coming.

“It’s cold~” Dazai whined, nose burying into the shorter man’s neck. “My second bad idea of this evening~!” Chuuya sighed and rubbed his hands over Dazai’s arms, tracing over the raised flesh of scars and goosebumps.

Chuuya could touch Dazai for hours, every inch was a story.

“Chuuyaaaaaaaa~~~~!”

“Oh my god, quit whining. Go stand in the water then and give me a hot fucking second to take my pants off.” Dazai pouted childishly but did as told, harrumphing himself behind the curtain.

Chuuya took a second to breathe, untying his hair and picking up all Dazai’s shit. Bandages could go in the trash, if the wayward genius wanted to recycle he could clean up after himself.

- / - / -

Washing the grit, sweat, and guilt off Dazai in the shower was easy. Kissing Dazai in the shower was easy. Bringing him out of his head was another matter entirely.

That only happened when Dazai sighed, shifted and hooked his legs around Chuuya’s waist, letting the stronger man press him into the wall, and then press into him as the water fell around them like so much rain.

�� - / - / -

Chuuya busied himself with rolling out their shared futon and bedcovers while Dazai hung awkwardly by the wardrobe. A quick glance found that his eyes had already begun to darken again.

That wouldn’t do.

“Do you want me to do some deep pressure with Tainted to help you relax?”

Chuuya had discovered a while back after reading something on the internet, that the experience of slight pressure can calm a wandering mind. It had become a bit of a thing between them since.

“If Chibi wouldn’t mind that, ah… might be helpful.” Dazai hid his face away as he spoke, redressing himself in a sweater and lounge pants.

“Lie down then, moron.”

Dazai launched himself under the bedcovers, sliding right into the center of the space. Chuuya pulled himself into a pair of boxers and one of Dazai’s sweaters, which dangled awkwardly on him in a way Chuuya fully knew Dazai internally drooled over.

“Idiot, are you fully covered?” Chuuya crawled onto the futon, hovering over Dazai, tucked beneath the covers.

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing socks, too?”

“Yes, Chibi.”

“Okay, hands out on top, don’t touch the blanket.”

“Obviously, hat rack.” Chuuya activated tainted and pressed unnatural gravity into the bedcovers, perhaps a bit harshly.

“Ah~! Too much!!! Chuuya is mean~!!” Dazai whined. The child.

“Don’t call me names then.”

“Chuuya started it.” He eased the pressure to about 45 killograms and spread it through the blanket. Dazai sighed, his eyes unfocusing. Dazai didn’t like pain, but they had discovered that gentle pressure was a comfort.

Chuuya settled himself down beside Dazai, curling around near his body, but staying above the covers and keeping his skin and hair apart from Dazai’s. He listened to the taller man’s breathing even and shallow out.

Chuuya was once again surprised at how versatile his gift was, and using it to help Dazai in this way was soothing for him as well, another small reminder that not everything had to be destructive, Mori be damned.

Dazai sighed. “Kiss me, Chibi.”

“You’ll screw up your therapy.” Chuuya griped.

Dazai turned and brushed his fingers through Chuuya’s hair and his ability fell away from him.

Their lips met, and Chuuya shifted to straddle Dazai once again, placing his hands on his lover’s chest and using his strength and the weight of his body to press him into the tatami. He would not let Dazai’s mind spiral for a second. Not tonight. Chuuya tracked the man beneath him carefully, relaxing his grip when he saw the barest hint of a wince in the corner of Dazai’s eyes, and strengthening it whenever he heard a whine of loss.

Showers. Sex. Kisses. Pressure.

Such simple comforts really shouldn’t bring someone with Dazai’s laundry list of mental health concerns this much relief and yet, he thought; a man dying of thirst would be glad for even a drop of water.

Maybe it was the same.

So he settled himself over Dazai, and let the man play with his hair, basking in the simple sensation and the warmth left over from their shower. After a while Dazai’s hands slowed, and then stilled. Just when he thought the mackerel had finally fallen asleep, he heard a low whisper.

“Thank you.”

Chuuya smiled stupidly into the covers.

#soukoku #soukoku fic #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bsd #i upload this to tumblr shyly 34 years after putting it on ao3 #my fic

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todotodorito · 6 years

Text

Soukoku Week Day 2- Scarcity

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya

Other Characters: Oda Sakunosuke

Warnings: Alcohol Usage Inspired by Hotarubi No Mori E and Pushing Daisies( @zellyfishnaaa saw a thing on Oz’s BSD Discord server and asked me to write it for Day 2 uwu)

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845580

Enjoy~

The first and last time Corruption spoke to him, he swore he'd never activate it again.

The words flowed from his mouth, so naturally Chuuya wouldn't have noticed them if it weren't for the fact that the voice wasn't one he recognized.

“O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again.”

He hadn't the slightest idea what happened afterwards.

The true form of his ability had manifested itself deep within Chuuya, and for a split second after being touched by Dazai Osamu, Chuuya thought he was dead.

That is, until the voice appeared again.

“I am you, and you are I, without the other, we are nothing but dust.”

He saw Dazai through the red haze of his mind, and choked out a whisper before surrendering to darkness.

“Don't… touch me…”

The first two days after he'd woken up, he shook uncontrollably. He'd refused to speak to anyone, not even Kouyou, whom he'd grown to be exceptionally close to.

Everyone left him be.

Poor thing, they said when they thought he wasn't listening. He must have been scared out of his mind.

Yes, he was scared. But not of Corruption, the entity that had been part of him for as long as he could remember. Not of how much pain he had to go through in the process of its activation.

No, fifteen-year-old Nakahara Chuuya was afraid of something else.

There wasn’t an inch of ground around them not covered in blood. Even they, themselves, were clad in metallic crimson, from their fallen opponents. Silence reigned and bloodlust hung in the atmosphere, sending out a grave warning to whoever might dare to cross their paths.

Soukoku was here.

Chuuya looked over to his right, where Dazai stood unmoving. Dark shadows reflected in hazel orbs that stared down at long-dead enemies. Chuuya counted to twenty before his partner snapped out of his reverie to revert back to his usual annoying self.

“Ah, Chuuya, they were strong, weren’t they?” A smirk was apparent on his sculpted face. “Too bad they had to meet us.”

Easy enough for him to say. Dazai had left him to handle most of their targets, only stepping in once in a while when he saw Chuuya was struggling. In fact, while Chuuya had gotten several vicious slashes to his side and his coat ripped to shreds, the only visible injury on Dazai was a slight gash on his cheek. Chuuya was already used to it.

Rolling his eyes, he made for his exit. The cleaners would arrive to clear up the mess afterwards. His job here was done.

“Wait for me!”

There was a sudden flurry of movement. Chuuya’s breath hitched, and he jerked aside, just barely missing Dazai’s outstretched hand.

Both froze.

“Chuuya…”

Dazai’s voice broke. He lifted his head to meet Chuuya’s soft gaze. The expression on the brunette’s face was almost unreadable, but it pained him all the same. The redhead braced himself for the tremendous guilt that was bound to follow the impending question, the very same one he’d been constantly asked the past three years-

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It never stopped hurting. Chuuya was enchanted by Dazai’s sharp features, captivated by his fluid movements, enamored by his rare, genuine smiles. He longed to be with him, cherish him and it drove him mad with frustration being so close to him, yet never being able to make physical contact with him. He wanted so many things- to love him and have his feelings reciprocated in return. To have his world no longer scarce of the touch of his beloved. But their abilities created an allegorical barrier between them, a line Chuuya could toe, but not cross.

That’s why, when he arrived at Lupin’s that night, it was with the intention of drinking his sorrows away. He waved the bartender over and ordered a glass of Beaujolais.

“Nakahara-San, fancy meeting you here.”

Chuuya turned away from his wine and saw a tall figure wearing yellow coat.

“Oda-San, hello.”

Oda Sakunosuke, the mafioso who didn't kill.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

Chuuya nodded his head towards the vacant seat beside him, and watched as the older man settled down comfortably before ordering a drink.

Silence fell upon them as the two took sips from their glasses.

“Dazai talks about you a lot.”

Chuuya merely bit back a retort. What else would come out of that shitty mackerel mouth other than words that spoke ill of-

“He tells me you have beautiful eyes, I can see why he’s head-over heels for you.”

Said eyes widened. Under different circumstances, Chuuya would have thought Oda for a fool.

But the latter wasn't lying. Every feature of his face portrayed a look of honesty, through and through.

The whole truthfulness of the matter was almost enough to break him down.

“But he’s always wondered why you wouldn’t let him beside you.”

Chuuya buried his face into his arms, leaning his head against the cold wooden table. Clumps of long, fiery red hair settled around him. His plan on drinking himself silly had evidently backfired. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand…

“He doesn’t know how much I want him too, doesn’t know how much it hurts being with him every single day, yet unable to reach for him,” Chuuya muttered with just enough volume for Oda to hear him.

Perhaps it was under the influence of alcohol, but Chuuya can’t remember when he started spilling everything to his companion: Corruption’s words, mixed emotions of love and fear, powerlessness and loneliness he could not help but feel.

“I see,” Oda offered, none of the half-hearted sympathy Chuuya hated, and was bound to receive if he hadn’t been conversing with Oda. The stoic man was quiet, deep in thought.

Chuuya could tell why Dazai adored him so.

“Nakahara-San, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you afraid of?”

Death? That wasn’t it. Working in the Mafia, he no longer felt the urge to flee from the unforgiving clutches of death. He’d learnt to embrace it, be one with it.

Leaving his family? Well, he’d come to care for those of the Port Mafia as his family the past three years he’d been working with them. It would be sad to have to part with them, but he was sure they would do fine without him.

His voice grew soft.

“I'm afraid of losing him.

“Even if he loves me back, everything would've been for nothing if- when- I'm gone.”

The climax of the moment passed quickly, and Chuuya released the breath he’d been subconsciously holding in. Facing the harshness of reality, opening up about the fear he’d been trying to hide for the past three years, it made his eyes brim with warm tears.

“Well I think…”

Chuuya glanced in Oda’s direction.

“The fact that you two love each other means that it won’t be for nothing.”

They fell silent once more, letting the soft melody of the music in the background bring them back to their train of thoughts.

And when Oda stood up to take his leave, Chuuya spoke up.

“Oda-San? Please, call me Chuuya.”

He’d had the whole of the night before to ponder Oda’s words. And throughout it all, his heart palpitated wildly, reminding him that he was alive- and very much human.

All humans fear, do they not?

That night, Chuuya made a decision.

“Hey Dazai? Meet me by Yokohama Bay tonight…”

Would he show up? If he did, would he be surprised? Would he feel anything at all?

As Chuuya waited, he thought back on the call he’d given Dazai that very morning. It was the first thing he did when he woke up. He could not- would not- keep running away anymore. He would not keep Dazai waiting anymore.

And when the brunette finally appeared, he knew he’d made the right choice.

“Oda-San spoke to me,” Chuuya started, looking into Dazai’s pupils. The bandage over his right eye had been removed, and Chuuya saw, for the first time in what seemed like forever, a pair of hazel staring back at him.

“He did me, too.”

His lips trembled ever-so-slightly. Chuuya felt his own two feet quaking.

“You know what will happen.”

It was coming, the moment Chuuya had been preparing himself. The moment that would pass as quickly as it came…

“Are you sure about this?”

And when Chuuya nodded, Dazai smiled.

He ran into those wide, welcoming arms.

And for the first time, he felt warm.

It enveloped him in its kind embrace, sheltering him from the bitter cold of reality. Chuuya wrapped his arms around Dazai’s neck, pulling the latter closer to him. Dazai cupped his cheeks and hummed his name.

“Chuuya, Chuuya…”

And the two knew nothing but love and happiness.

The tears slid down his cheeks when the tingling sensation started. Light-headed, he pulled away, smiling and crying, drunk on the touch of Dazai’s fingertips, the feel of lips on his…

Bathed in shimmering shards of gold and silver, Chuuya leaned towards his partner for the last time in this life.

“I love you…”

They parted and, for a split second, Dazai saw stars in his eyes and happiness in his smile.

Then he was gone.

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it to happen. He'd suspected it would've ended like this, but he knew Chuuya wouldn't have it any other way. And Odasaku’s last words merely confirmed his hunch.

“Chuuya… loves you so. I’m sure you understand everything…

“Leave me, and go be with him…”

Yet now, tears fell from his face and onto the smooth cloth of Chuuya’s coat, soaking it with physical embodiments of his pain and sorrow.

An envelope peeked out a pocket. Dazai knew, without a doubt, that it was addressed to him. He choked back a sob and pulled it out.

It read:

‘Dear Dazai,

The day I found out about this side of my ability, I'd already accepted my fate. It was only a matter of time, but knew I would meet my end in your arms- the way I wanted it.

I'm sure you've figured it out already, but this damned ability of mine is the only thing holding me together. Without it, I am but soul without a shell. Without it, I would disappear to nothing at all.

But despite that, I longed for your touch; the feel of your skin on mine. And I loved every moment we shared. Even if it’s just once, but once is more than enough.

That's why I hope you forgive me for leaving. I regretted none of it, and I hope you felt the same.

Thank you for being mine.

With love,

Nakahara Chuuya.’

Dazai fell to his knees.

He clutched his clothes and screamed his name.

The world stilled.

#soukokuweek #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukokuweek2018 #bungou stray dogs #bsd #day 2- scarcity #fanfic #one-shot #mystuff

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minifiction · 6 years

Text

The Returnee

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Characters/Pairings: Shibusawa, Oda; Shibusawa/Oda

Genre: Awkward Flirting

Rating: PG

Summary: Only a year after the Dragon's Head incident, Shibusawa meets someone he wanted to meet again, and grows even more interested in him.

Shibusawa has stopped being surprised by how easy it is to go around unnoticed in Yokohama only a year after the Dragon’s Head incident. If he puts his hair up and doesn’t wear white, no one will look twice at him or even consider that he might be the ‘White Dragon’. It’s a shame - white is his favorite color, as much as he has a favorite anything - but combat has long since stopped being an enjoyable toy.

Lately he’s been trying food. Many people claim to find enjoyment in food, and while Shibusawa hasn’t found any fulfillment in it so far, there are far more kinds of cuisine available than he remembers eating.

This restaurant sells good curry. Shibusawa can recognize that the quality of the dish is high, and if a person liked curry, then this might be their Mecca. To him, however, all it is is ordinary food.

“Uncle-”

The identity of the customer who just arrived is far more interesting. Shibusawa recognizes him instantly: it’s someone he met during the Dragon’s Head incident, someone he found intriguing enough to want to meet a second time. Such people are rare.

The man’s tension only shows in his jaw. “White Dragon.”

“Shibusawa, please. That name is tiring.” Shibusawa smiles. “Have you come to have lunch? Don’t let me keep you from it.”

“…Not here.” The man’s gaze flickers to the restaurant owner, who has gone much more stiff than him and is tightly gripping his ladle. As if that would help him any if Shibusawa wanted to kill him. “You wanted to meet again. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

“Oh? Is something wrong with this restaurant?” The man doesn’t answer, which Shibusawa takes as confirmation. “…Something precious to you is here, perhaps?”

The answer is near-instant: “They wouldn’t be valuable to you.”

“If it’s people, then you’re correct.” Shibusawa rises from his seat. “I don’t mind talking somewhere else to soothe your worries.”

“Thank you.” The man relaxes infinitesimally, and those thanks are genuine. Shibusawa walks out the door first, and the other doesn’t shoot him in the back.

What a strange, intriguing person.

“I don’t believe I know your name,” Shibusawa says, once they’re a sufficient distance from the restaurant that the man might relax enough to engage in conversation.

“It’s Oda.”

“Oda, an underling from a certain organization. No, forgive me, you must have risen in rank since we last met.” It would be strange for someone who continued to survive in the Port Mafia to remain an underling forever.

Oda shakes his head.

“Not at all?”

“Not at all. I’m still the mafia’s errand boy.”

“How interesting. If it was lack of skill, you would have died by now.” The Port Mafia is not known for giving easy jobs, even to the underlings. “Is it by choice?”

Oda nods. “I don’t kill people. So I stay at this rank.”

Shibusawa - laughs. It’s a sound he doesn’t often hear from himself, and it surprises him when it leaves his mouth. “A mafioso who doesn’t kill! You may be the most interesting man I’ve met, Oda.”

“That can’t be true. You’ve met Dazai,” Oda says, eyebrows raised a fraction.

“Hm? Oh, him.” Dazai and his partner with Corruption. That had been terribly painful, but in the long term, nothing more than an inconvenience. “He isn’t bad, but I’ve taken much more of a fancy to you.”

He was a jewel thief then because he was bored, and he liked beautiful things. That was reason enough to put his head in the lion’s mouth, as Oda put it. Someone who can genuinely capture his interest is more precious than even those jewels.

Shibusawa sets his hand on Oda’s cheek, studying the flush of his face, the way his blue eyes go wide…

The ringtone of the phone in his pocket.

Oda steps back, which Shibusawa allows. “…I need to take this call privately.”

“If you must.” Stealing jewels is much simpler than stealing people, after all. Jewels aren’t upset about being removed from their jewel friends. Shibusawa does not feel particularly strongly about Oda being upset with him, except that it would make it more difficult for him to be around Oda to observe him.

Oda ducks around a corner, and shortly after that returns with his phone in his pocket. “I have a mission. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Genuinely apologizing to an enemy for having to leave. Shibusawa offers what approaches a genuine smile, for him. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you again.”

He does see Oda again, more than Oda sees him.

It becomes something of a hobby of his to track Oda’s movements through the city. The missions are unpredictable: Oda seems to be assigned anything and everything that no one else wants to take on. When he isn’t on a mission, Oda is remarkably regular in his activities. He visits that same restaurant a few times a week. He’s a patron of the same bookstore immediately after he received his paycheck. He drinks at the same bar with the same two Port Mafia members.

Shibusawa never dares enter that bar. Oda might be surprisingly willing to tolerate Shibusawa being around and alive after Corruption should have killed him, but Dazai and Ango would not be so kind. Most people are not as kind as Oda, of course, so that’s no surprise. It’s just inconvenient.

There are plenty of other places to catch Oda if he wants to speak to him directly, instead of just observe.

“Marquis de Sade seems a bold choice for you.”

Oda doesn’t seem particularly surprised to see Shibusawa standing outside the door to his apartment. “I’ve heard many things about his work, but I’ve never read it myself. I wanted to at least read some before I made a judgment.”

Shibusawa hums thoughtfully. “You’re doing the same with me, after all. Unless your executive friend has ordered you to keep track of me?”

“I haven’t said anything about you.” Oda tilts his head. “But he must already know that you’re here. He’s Dazai.”

The unwavering faith Oda has in Dazai amazes Shibusawa, just a little. It’s undeserved, but just possessing that level of trust is notable. “Aren’t you going to invite me into your home?”

Oda’s apartment is sparsely decorated, save for the numerous bookcases stuffed to capacity. Shibusawa scans over the titles, finding classics mixed in among books he’s never heard of.

“Do you want me to make you some coffee?” Oda asks, leaning against the wall of what passes for a living room.

“No, thank you. It’s bad for my health.” Shibusawa smiles at a private joke, before turning to face Oda. “You’re an interesting person, Oda.”

“You keep telling me that,” Oda replies, clearly not any more likely to believe it than the first time.

“You keep reminding me of it.” Shibusawa takes a step toward him, and then another step, until he’s close enough to feel Oda’s breath.

Flawless is a powerful ability, and it would look lovely on Shibusawa’s shelf, but its best use is to allow Shibusawa to get this close: if Flawless doesn’t activate, Oda knows Shibusawa doesn’t mean harm. Not physical harm, at least.

“On our first meeting, you asked me what my true character was, and I told you that I take a fancy to beautiful things.” Shibusawa sets a hand on Oda’s cheek. “I wonder, has anyone told you that you, yourself, are beautiful?”

“…No one has.” Oda’s reactions are almost always minute, but from this distance it’s easy to notice the blush that goes all the way up to his ears.

“Such a shame.”

Shibusawa does not care much for human beings. He finds them boring at best and annoying at worst. It’s impossible for him to grow attached to someone whose every action he can predict. If he finds someone who surprises him, then he grows attached and wants to make them his.

Stealing people is entirely different from stealing jewels. The process is more time-consuming and more delicate, and it would be easy for Shibusawa to get bored and wander off, were there not rewards along the way.

This moment is the best reward thus far. Shibusawa doesn’t know how Oda will react when he presses him into the wall and kisses him, and that’s rare enough. The physical sensation of kissing him is pleasant for easily explainable reasons, chemicals and hormones; the dazed look in Oda’s eyes when Shibusawa pulls back is pleasant for reasons Shibusawa can’t put names to.

“Shibusawa.” Oda grips Shibusawa’s shoulders, but doesn’t try push him back, and when Shibusawa leans in again, Oda meets him halfway.

The kind of person Shibusawa was made to be enjoys his playthings, grows bored, and throws them away before moving on. No doubt Shibusawa will become bored of Oda one day and be rid of him.

But until that day, he plans to enjoy him as much as he possibly can, and make sure Oda enjoys himself as well.

#bungou stray dogs #shibusawa tatsuhiko #oda sakunosuke #pairing: oda sakunosuke/shibusawa tatsuhiko #does that have a ship name at all #dead apple spoilers #dragon's head spoilers

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pinkcupofcherrytea · 8 years

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[Fic] Pay no worship to the garish sun [Dazatsu]

Title: Pay no worship to the garish sun Summary: Dazai, a bored, restless god – tired of the mindless humans that pray to him, and is by now quite good at avoiding his duties and peers – wanders through the land and meets a human living all by himself in the dark woods. Relationship(s): Dazai/Atsushi Rated: T Warnings: Implied/mentioned sex. Author’s note: This is my gift for @magicalgirlmafu as a part of the Dazatsu Valentine Exchange 2017, I’m your secret valentine! I tried my best to squeeze in parts of your prompts and likes all over the place but I don’t know if I succeeded I hope you’ll like it, and Happy Valentine’s Day!

Disclaimer: Title is a quote from William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, act three scene two.

[Contains Pining-and-sort-of-ridiculous-god!Dazai, Oblivious-human!Atsushi, I’m-tired-of-this-shit!Kunikida, Smoking-philosofer!Odasaku and I-ship-it!Yosano]

Dazai looks upon the tiny figures scurrying around down below, preparing food and decorations for tonight’s feast. He does not quite sneer, but the expression on his face is more unfavourable than pleased.

“I don’t understand the fondness you have for them.” Dazai says and roll over to lay on his back with his eyes closed. The eternal glow of the realm too bright.

He catches the sound of Odasaku’s faint chuckle, and finally relaxes against the buzzing stone beneath him. The familiar darkness and the absence of insignificant things – there is only he and Odasaku here now, Ango hadn’t been able to join them, being stuck in his ever-growing library – it made his day better.

“It’s not as much fondness as it is envy,” Odasaku answered, and when Dazai opened his eyes to look at him he absently stared down at the humans.

Dazai could feel a wrinkle on his forehead when he frowned and hurried to smooth it out before asking. “What is it they have that we don’t?”

Except the formalities, of course: Power, deathly good looks (at least in Dazai’s case) and other things that Dazai didn’t bother counting.

Odasaku shrugs, and it takes some time for him to answer. He leans back against the smooth pillar and drags his finger over the thin pipe in his hands. “They have life.”

Dazai blinks. “So do we. Unfortunately.”

Odasaku ignores that last part, and breathe in some more smoke before continuing.

“No, not like that. They actually live. They…” Odasaku hesitates, unsure on how to explain. “Their life might be a path towards death, Dazai, but they make the most of it.”

Another inhale of smoke.

“And I can respect that. Their life… it can be unbelievably beautiful would you look closer.”

Dazai hums and shields his eyes from the immersing light.

Decades later, Dazai would stand at the edge of a shore, watching parts of wrecked ships float to shore. The sky was clear, blown bare after days of hard wind and pelting rain. Dazai take a few steps forward. Had he been human the clucking waves would’ve attacked his ankles, soaking them with salty water. Instead, Dazai nodded his head, and the water that’d been the destruction of so many ships and lives parted obediently, continuing its’ journey up the sand but leaving a small circle for Dazai to stand dry.

“They live.” Odasaku had said.

“They die.” Dazai thought, and left the beach.

In the end, humans might not be so different from them, but for now they were nothing but another entity in this world.

…

Dazai stumbled over some roots, and would have fallen face first into the fertile soil hadn’t he managed to grab a branch and pull himself up. Dazai swore he could hear a faint chuckling in the wind when it rustled the leaves, despite his precautions for Yosano not knowing he’d visited her woods.

Trespassed, might be a better word for it, but why bother with details?

Point was that he wanted to be alone. Running away from duties came with the responsibility not to be caught doing it. And while Kunikida certainly knew what Dazai did, didn’t mean he knew where.

Dazai kept walking. It went slow. There were no clear path in this part of the giant woods. The trees grew freely and in some places were so tightly wound that it was impossible to press through. Dazai walked around instead, and so it had played out the few couple of days that had passed since he’d entered. His loitering was still faster than any man, even though he actively didn’t use his magic his eyes found the smartest shortcuts, the footprints of animals glowing around him, easy to spot.

And, there. A larger, outdrawn footprint.

The earth had been pushed down, up at the sides, by something heavy but agile, with crafted leather instead of fur and claws. Dazai frowned. There shouldn’t be a human this deep into the woods. There was a village, perhaps half a day from here, if you knew where to go. Dazai had passed it on his way, deliberately avoiding the people there and instead made it to the trees surrounding it on all sides. The humans living in the village seemed the kind to stay within their controlled areas, only leaving it to reach larger cities beyond the valley. For a villager to walk around this deep in… desperate for a good hunt, perhaps?

Dazai continued to walk. He seems to take the same path the human did, and soon the trees resemble something less than a wall, a little more space between the thick trunks and rays of sunlight slipping through the majestic crowns of leaves. As abrupt as Kunikida screaming at Dazai to wake up from his daily nap, the trees split. Stopped. A small field, nothing more than a patch of grass, really, with small flowers weakly attempting to beat the green vegetation with specks of purple, white, and yellow. Only interrupted by a body, laying still in the middle of it all.

The human boy – a young man – sleeps on his back.

Unaware of the many dangers that lurks behind the old trees, behind small, thorny bushes, the boy sleeps.

Dazai sneaks closer, curious despite himself. The sun has trouble breaking through the thick roof of leaves, a few rays give some light to the small glen. The ground is soft with grass and flowers and no sound was heard when Dazai stepped closer. It wasn’t so strange for the boy to sleep here. If anywhere in these great woods this was a place of tranquillity, of peace. The only odd thing was the boy, still. A human this far in, far away from his kin.

The grass tickled the human’s naked arms and Dazai saw pale lips half-open and how the unusual light hair reflected the sun. It almost seemed to glow. In a matter of seconds Dazai peered down at him, wondering. Dazai’s eyes took a peculiar shine, and he could read the prints and strings surrounding the sleeping human as if reading a book.

A book with a language only he could understand.

The boy had stolen. Twice, maybe more, but not something overly valuable. A piece of bread, an apple or two. There were the aura of scars etched on his skin beneath the white shirt, and his feet had callouses after walking barefoot for a long time.

There was no hint of true deviousness anywhere on or in his body. The boy had regrets but no sins, the strings attached to him gleaming in pure gold.

Dazai blinked. Intrigued now. He leaned closer, to take a better look, to figure this being out, and maybe to get a better look on the exquisite colour of the human’s oddly cut hair. Dazai was close enough to catch a whiff of burned wood and something else. Something distinctly more human but with an evident fragrance of flowers. Dazai followed the bridge of the nose down to the human lips and then up again.

To the very open eyes that stared back at him.

An explosion of colours blinked blearily at Dazai, surprise succeeded weariness, followed by a quick dose of sudden fear.

Dazai himself felt frozen. Couldn’t move a muscle. As the emotions in his eyes caught up with the rest of his body, the human lurched to the side, his before relaxed, soft lips open wide with a gasp half-way out before Dazai even had the chance to blink.

The wind rustling the leaves seemed to fade out, and left was only Dazai’s own undying and usually unnecessary heart thumping.

And Dazai had been through a lot. His life long enough for his beginning to be blurry, almost erased. He’d sneaked under the nose of beasts to have a look at their hoards, had tricked almighty gods to eat their weight in dirt concealed as treats, had run from enraged goddesses demanding his head on a plate, and all he could think when seeing those eyes for the first time was a silent “oh”.

Oh.

They live, he heard.

They die, he knew.

Well, some of them are abnormally cute, he found out.

…

“So what’s your name?”

“I don’t think that’s important right now!”

“Nonsense. Look, I’m not even bleeding. So, your name…?”

“Atsushi. It’s Atsushi. Are you sure you’re okay? I’m so sorry-“

“Atsushi. I surprised you, didn’t I? Your reaction was understandable.”

“Even so, let me… I can make it up to you!”

“Hmm. Okay then. Don’t you want to know my name?”

“…”

“Well?”

“Sorry, please tell me your name?”

“I’m Dazai.”

“Dazai, Dazai-san. Once again, I’m so sorry…”

“You’re forgiven.”

…

Atsushi showed himself to be one of those humans that existed outside of the masses, not really by choice, but because it was necessary according to said masses. The cottage he lived in was small, worn by time but cared for in the years Atsushi had lived in it. Alone. Dazai frowned when Atsushi told him he wasn’t exactly welcome in the village, but if he wanted to take a walk they could go down to the river?

“Sure!” Dazai smiled.

(He sent crows to make some fuss in the village. Atsushi told him about the strange occurrence a couple of days later, a frown on his lips but laughter in his eyes. Dazai was pleased.)

…

“Hello, Atsushi-kun! Nice day today, isn’t it?”

Atsushi startled with a shriek, whipping around and almost crushed the innocent flower in his hand.

“Dazai-san! You have to stop doing that!”

“With what?” Dazai took a step back to give the other some space to catch his breath, but kept smiling mischievously.

“Jumping out of nowhere! I have no idea how you keep surprising me.”

“You reacted better than the first time.”

Atsushi groaned and a fierce red coloured his neck, unrelated to the earlier scare. “I wish you’d stop bringing that up.”

“Sorry.” Dazai said, which was only half a lie.

Dazai sat down next to Atsushi. Conversation flowed easily before a comfortable silence ensued. Dazai leaned back and enjoyed the quiet, only a faint sound of birds and rustling branches was heard in the distance.

Suddenly, Atsushi reached out to push some stray strands of hair away from his face with a concerned smile. Dazai went completely still as Atsushi realised what he was doing and quickly pulled back his hand.

“Sorry,” Atsushi mumbled, “it’s just… you look tired, Dazai-san. You know you don’t have to come visit me all the time right? Your journeys must be pretty exhausting, after all.”

Dazai shook his head, had to himself from wincing when Atsushi mentioned the line of work Dazai’d told him about, reaching down to clasp Atsushi’s hand reassuringly. “Visiting you is always worth it.”

Atsushi currently believed Dazai worked with trading, venturing between the village by the woods and those on the other side of the mountain. Dazai chose not to mention that such long journeys would make it impossible for him to visit as often as he did, or that Dazai had never sold a thing in his very long life. He also didn’t mention the whole thing about not being exactly human; a quite important detail that’d been forgotten somewhere between Atsushi and Dazai getting to know each other and Dazai starting to visit the small cottage in the glen as often as possible.

Dazai would tell him, someday.

…

Most of Atsushi’s emotions had its own, special colour and appearance; easy to see when looking in his eyes. Beauty existed there.

They looked more yellow when Dazai brought food, pretending it was from the village, and it might be considered ridiculous to become so immensely happy about food, but it made Atsushi smile so Dazai expertly sneaked inside Kenji’s storages to bring back a feast. They young god had more food than he needed, anyway.

The purple in Atsushi’s eyes were more visible when Dazai was about to leave. The fascination Dazai had for them made it harder to leave, Dazai wanted to stay to explore them some more.

When annoyed, Atsushi’s left eye twitched. When nervous, he blinked more often and when embarrassed he avoided to look Dazai in the eyes.

Dazai considered stealing Kunikida’s precious book to write all of this down – and more – and loudly say “there’s your ideals!”

However, since Dazai didn’t enjoy pain he refrained, using the time it would’ve taken to plan, execute and flee from such actions and planted flowers around Atsushi’s cottage instead.

“Look, Dazai-san!” Atsushi screamed when he visited the next day, pointing excitedly at the many lush plants. They were orange and pink, blue and white with big and small petals. No thorns, but smooth and ready to be plucked. Even Dazai easily acknowledged the beauty in the flowers that clung to the walls and spread around the small cottage, and he felt no less smug about it.

“They must have bloomed during the night! I didn’t notice anything, aren’t they amazing?”

Dazai grinned.

“Do you think they’re edible?”

Okay, maybe a little less smug now. Dazai’s grin turned into a confused smile.

“What?”

Atsushi eyed the flowers eagerly, eyes yellow and bright, and Dazai realised this might not be as obvious as he thought it was.

…

“Edible!” Yosano was in hysterics, her hands pressed against her stomach from laughing so much it hurt. “He wants to eat your gift.”

Dazai wanted to inform Yosano that Atsushi had eaten plenty of his gifts. But could get her point since they were actual food.

He wanted to tell Yosano that Atsushi’s smiles were like the sunlight in her woods. Dripping through the foliage, always cut off by shadows but persistent in reaching the ground. Beautiful and brilliant. That making him smile was like controlling the weather, which wasn’t his area at all.

Yosano was the only god he could consult with. Atsushi lived in her woods, on her land. And a few months ago she had it all figured out.

“I’ve noticed you’ve visited quite a few times now, sadly I’ve not been informed?”

Dazai didn’t look up immediately, instead opting to calmly set down the brush he’d been using before meeting Yosano’s satisfied and somewhat guarded look.

“I’ve enjoyed the scenery.”

“Oh, I see. The scenery.” Yosano smirks and raises her cup, and Dazai realise she knows.

He pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, ignores her looks, and picks up the brush again.

So far, Yosano knowing hadn’t really been a hindrance, more than a bruise on Dazai’s pride with sneaking through other god’s domains unnoticed. Instead, Yosano seemed to be an unexpected ally, though Dazai never asked her to. She granted him free passage to Atsushi’s small cottage. “As long as you don’t set anything on fire” was the only requirement, and Dazai thought that sounded reasonable. Atsushi didn’t like fire that much, anyway.

Yosano’s presence wasn’t bad. She and Dazai hadn’t talked much outside of yearly parties or godly get-togethers. Dazai wasn’t a god of the same nature than ran through her veins, but occasionally she seemed to enjoy the same sorts of trickery Dazai did (he suspected all the gods did in secret, except for Kunikida, and that they were all just hypocrites).

Dazai almost fainted when he visited Atsushi only for a great BEAST to sit by his side during the weeks when wild spirits plagued the area, happily being fed small pieces of meat by a euphoric Atsushi.

“But why a dog?” Dazai whined to Yosano who smirked and leaned back in the comforter she was perched upon, fruit and wine on a small table next to it that they both took joy in devouring as fast as possible.

“It was a wolf, and I protect my own, Dazai.” Yosano said.

Dazai snorted.

“If that’s the case how come you didn’t do anything when I sent birds to your village?”

Yosano occupied herself with a pitcher of wine and said nothing.

…

Dazai felt tired of lying. The true meaning behind the flowers, except to make Atsushi smile, had been to make him wondering. For Atsushi to figure that Dazai was no simple trader, or even human for that matter.

Next time, Dazai handed Atsushi a bouquet of flowers himself. Instead of inquiring if he could eat them, Atsushi blushed and fussed with putting them in something suitable or hang them up somewhere. Dazai suggested pressing some of them between the pages of a book.

“I don’t have any books,” Atsushi said, and flushed with embarrassment and added, quieter, “I can’t read.”

Dazai brought books together with the next bouquet, and didn’t return to his realm until Atsushi could write both of their names and the name of the flowers Dazai had given him. After he learnt Atsushi to write a full sentence in the sand outside the cottage Atsushi hugged him close for the first time.

The world quivered and golden strings shot through every corner of the woods as the tightly controlled power in Dazai chest and eyes slipped, unravelling the universe as he knew it.

Dazai hugged back and closed his eyes.

He didn’t know how long the stayed like that until Atsushi let go. He gave Dazai a shy smile before standing up and stretched his thin arms – Dazai enjoyed seeing they were bigger than before – up towards the leaf-covered sky. Atsushi clasped his hands behind his back.

“Do you want to go to the river, Dazai-san? It’s not as warm there.”

While the trees gave enough shadow, the air was a little stifling when the sky stood so high in the sky. Dazai agreed, and they walked the short way to the small river that trailed all the way from the mountain, but there bigger and wider, through the village and then through parts of the woods. The water was clear and fresh, so Dazai shouldn’t be surprised when Atsushi crouched and dipped his hand in before looking at Dazai.

Atsushi hesitated. “Want to go for a swim? There’s a place where it’s deeper right over there.”

Dazai leaned towards a tree, not making any attempts at getting closer to the water. “I can’t swim.” He said honestly.

Atsushi gaped and Dazai bit back a grimace. It honestly wasn’t that odd. His domain didn’t include water. If it were dark alleys, lonely libraries and sneaking around roof-tops, then yes. However, Dazai never had a reason for learning how to swim. Should he ever need to then he could simply walk on the water. But apparently this didn’t impress Atsushi – though Dazai didn’t actually try walking on water right now. Didn’t seem like the right time.

“I’ll teach you then!” Atsushi beamed. “In exchange for teaching me how to read, I’ll teach you how to swim!”

Dazai had a perfect excuse, a very palpable one indeed, but then Atsushi made a move to remove his shirt and suddenly the whole idea didn’t seem that bad.

They undressed. Atsushi seemed uncomfortable with his scars, so Dazai didn’t look or ask despite seeing a furiously red-gold string wrapped around his waist, wavering up over Atsushi’s neck. When Dazai looked up, he saw Atsushi eye his chest, something unidentifiable marked on his face before noticing Dazai was watching, then he quickly looked away and focused on removing the rest of his clothes.

The water was cold but Atsushi waded out until it embraced his knees. He looked back to the rock where Dazai was still standing. Atsushi laughed.

“It’s not so bad! Come on, Dazai-san!”

Dazai didn’t doubt that Atsushi clearly exaggerated about the pleasantness of it all, but stepped into the water. Sharp stones dug into his feet but he continued on until he stood with water up to his knees next to Atsushi.

“It’s not that deep here,” Atsushi explained and slowly sank down into the water while walking further away from land, “so you don’t have to worry about drowning.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, I wouldn’t worry about that in any case.”

Atsushi rolled his eyes but didn’t comment, instead gesturing for Dazai to follow him.

They spent the rest of the day’s hottest hours in that river. Atsushi laughed when Dazai gulped down water while trying to strike his long arms through it, but then started stroke his back when he felt guilty over laughing. It felt nice. All in all, learning how to swim with Atsushi was fun.

When it was time to get up, Dazai kicked some water in a surprised Atsushi’s face. It took a couple of seconds before he retaliated, and soon they were in the middle of an intense water fight. With no crowned victor, but laughing and not a hair that wasn’t soaking wet, they climbed up the rocks to let their bodies dry.

Dazai laid down on a smoother rock, Atsushi followed, cleaned it of leaves and dirt before collapsing on it. Facing the sun, it’s wasn’t cold. More like pleasantly cool.

They shouldn’t lay so close to one another; the rock was big enough for space in-between and the water on their skin wouldn’t dry any faster with Atsushi’s shoulder pressed against Dazai’s, his arm against his and pinkies almost laying over each other.

Dazai wouldn’t give this moment away for anything. No matter how precious or powerful.

...

Dazai sat in his temple. The work was tedious and boring but he made it in silence with only a few breaks that was spent gazing out at the sky.

It had been weeks since that day at the river.

When Dazai returned to his realm, the work had piled up and Kunikida was worked up in a frenzy. Dazai worked through it all alarmingly fast, but more things came his way. After two weeks Dazai considered skipping out on a meeting and visit Yosano’s woods instead.

He couldn’t stop thrumming his fingers against the table, he felt tired and annoyed and had probably scared the servants out of their wits with the dark expression he wore when he didn’t think of schooling it to something else.

How dependable on him have you become? The voice in his head urgently whispered. Being like this makes you weak.

Dazai clicked his tongue and prepared to go see Atsushi the very next day.

He came to the line where the village’s fields ended and the woods started, then he abruptly turned around.

If I go in there now, Dazai frantically thought, I won’t be able to go back.

In the realm, Dazai took on some more work, shocking Kunikida enough that he wondered if Dazai had become possessed, and didn’t leave his temple for another three weeks.

Then he gave up. His head heart and the strange familiarity of his realm was driving him mad.

He ignored his usual way of walking through the woods, shifting until his arms were wings that let him glide through the air. He landed just a couple of metres from where the trees parted to give way for the old cottage and almost didn’t have time shifting back.

“Dazai-san?”

Atsushi had dark circles under his eyes, and Dazai didn’t have time to take on step before Atsushi had crossed the distance between them and thrown himself in Dazai’s arms.

With the contact several weeks of difficulties and doubt just disappeared. Dazai pressed over Atsushi’s waist and back, pulling him as close as possible. He buried his head in his neck and breathed in. Atsushi dropped his head on Dazai’s shoulder, his breath shaky and heavy. When Dazai felt something wet soak through his shirt he raised his head, then immediately pushed their foreheads together when the space between them was just too big.

“What’s the matter?”

Atsushi sniffled and shook his head, tears trickling down his cheeks in a steady stream.

“I’m j-just happy that y-you came back.” He got out, and they were close enough for Dazai to rub their noses against each other.

Atsushi’s eyes were wide and bright yellow when looking up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai whispered, and ran soothing fingers over Atsushi’s arms and back, “I’m sorry, Atsushi-kun, I always meant to return. I always want to return.”

Atsushi’s knees gave away and they both sank down to the ground, still holding on tight and with Atsushi’s head once again on Dazai’s shoulder. Dazai kept sliding his hands over the smooth planes of Atsushi’s body, stopping to feel along his spine, pretending not to notice Atsushi’s shudder.

They sat there until the sky turned darker and you could glimpse stars, and if a human boy kissed a stray god, only they would know.

…

Dazai was no stranger to frustration. But this itch under his skin made it hard to focus on anything else than the next possibility he had to sneak out. It is the kind of frustration that would make a normal man mad, Dazai believed. Indeed, his noble and patient self was to be praised.

(Atsushi’s kisses were soft and tender, a little insecurity that was overshadowed by the feelings in each press of his lips)

“Dazai-sama!” The messenger’s voice cut through whatever illusions wrapped around him, and Dazai looked down from his seat to see the wondering, nonplussed stares of the celestial beings under his jurisdiction.

“Continue.” Dazai made a gesture with his hand and the neat messenger hesitantly picked up where he’d dropped off.

“As I said, the people of the cities close to the Northern border are…”

It rains a lot close to that border, I wonder if Atsushi likes rain? Dazai zoned out again, picturing Atsushi with his head tipped back to meet the rain with a smile. Or he would shiver. Clothes too thin to protect from the cold.

Dazai leaned on one hand and unconsciously frowned, to the persons in the room’s growing unease.

I should get him a coat or something. Something warm. It’s usually quite warm in Yosano’s area this time of the year, but still…

The messenger tuned out, aware that he no longer held the god’s attention.

…

Kunikida, quite literally, tied him to his chair when the preparations for the spring celebration started.

“Work.” He hissed and gestured with his book, close and hard enough to almost poke out Dazai’s right eye. “You have, no matter how promiscuous and informal, a duty towards your followers. So you will sit here, receive their prayers and gifts, and you will look happy about it.”

Dazai sagged back in his chair and bemoaned his sad fate.

Three nights later he laid in Atsushi’s bed, pressed close with no barriers. They weren’t sleeping, instead they listened to the distant thunder and Dazai imagined it to be Kunikida raging when he found out about the doll sitting in his temple receiving the people’s prayers.

…

It was a visit like many others.

Atsushi had asked him to stay.

“Don’t go.” Whispered against his lips, and Dazai was weak.

He left light kisses over Atsushi’s collarbone, over his chest and down to his stomach, relishing in the healthy bulge just under his navel. He pressed one last kiss on a thigh and asked Atsushi what he wanted, what could he do?

Dazai had certainly done this before, yet his hands shook as he pressed them against scorching skin. The night outside the cottage felt light and fleeting. When morning came Dazai would have to leave. He displaces that piece of information the same time he buries his head under Atsushi’s shin and push his lips at the point where the pulse beats the hardest, and kisses it in tandem with his heartbeat.

Dazai-san,” Atsushi said instead of answering his question, cupped Dazai face and inched closer, “that first time I saw you, you were glowing.”

And there is such warmth in his eyes, in the colour on his cheeks.

“It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I’m so happy that I got to know you.”

Dazai lets out a sharp breath, hugging Atsushi close and enjoying his warmth, his scent. It muffled the noise in his mind and relaxed his muscles.

“I love you.”

Ah, and there was that. Hearing it made his ears ring, a little. The response easy and well thought out yet impossible to say.

I love you.

I adore you.

To me, you seem like life itself, and that is dangerous for a god.

“You,” Dazai says instead, “I’ve never met anyone as stunning as you. Almost as soon as I met you I’ve…”

Atsushi sighed and finally hugged back. One hand clasped on Dazai’s back and the other tangled in his hair.

The night was young, the night was long. Never long enough. In the bright morning Dazai held Atsushi close. Cuddled together, they could ignore the world for a while, pretending they were the only ones there.

…

Kunikida found out. Finally. Regrettably. About time. When Dazai reached him Kunikida had already left, and Atsushi already stood in the door, looking at him with an unusually blank face.

“I’m-”

“You’re a god.” A question? No, an acknowledgment of facts.

Dazai nodded, anyway. Atsushi stared, he stared back. Waiting. Awaiting a reaction; a goodbye, tears, questions, anything, but Atsushi just met Dazai’s eyes, unblinking. Then he sighed and seemed to sag a little.

“Oh, gods.” He mumbled, and that is almost funny.

“I should’ve known,” he said and now it was Dazai’s turn to wonder, “you… being you, doing strange things, fantastic things-“

He stopped himself and shook his head, mumbling “never saw you pee or anything either.”

Dazai can’t really help laughing at that. “That’s what made you wonder? Not the flowers, the many visits, the glowing?”

Atsushi blushed, and it was so much better than the blank look he had before.

“I thought they were happy coincidences!”

Dazai chuckles but can’t help but wonder: what now? Atsushi seemed to think the same thing, because he pushed himself of the doorframe and entered the cottage.

“Let’s get inside, I still have some tea left from when your… friend… visited.”

Dazai felt something akin to hope echo in his chest and took a step closer. “You mean I can stay?”

“Of course, of course you can stay.” Atsushi reaches out and takes a hold of his hand, features softening into a familiar smile that was only a little smaller than usual.

“We’ll talk. About… about this and-“

“About what to do now?”

Atsushi nodded, and pulled Dazai in to serve him some tea. “Yes. About what to do now.”

...

Legends, old stories mixed with new ones, says that one of the Eastern Gods; the one for the strays, the thieves, the cunning, and the intelligent keeps a familiar by his side. A great and powerful white tiger with glowing eyes and sharp teeth.

The legends don’t tell much about it, for there isn’t much written or remembered about the stray god either. But one thing is always mentioned.

And that is that you never see one without the other.

To pay worship to the sun is to pay worship to the moon.

#dazatsu #magicalgirlmafu #dazatsu valentine exchange #can't believe i finished on time my god #It’s my first time joining in on something like this and the first time I write for this pairing #the ending of this is so rushed omg #bungou stray dogs #my writing #i’ve really been excited yet a little stressed because I really finished this in the last minute #never mind the re-writing and editing and crying

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