#imagine dazai with zero memories see chuuya for the 'first time' and go 'oh this person is MINE' then five minutes in he calls him partner

[np-c]

you know this prompt, "Character A loses his memory but he finds a person he can instinctively trust, except it's completely wrong and it's actually his archnemesis"?

imagine soukoku, where one of them loses his memory and this is how it looks from outsider's pov

[musicprincess655]

Atsushi is covered with dog hair, soaked to the bone, and his ribs ache from laughing.

His shifts with Kyouka do that to him. She’s not particularly funny, but something about trying to wrestle a wiggling dog through a bath sends Atsushi into fits of giggles, and the warmth in Kyouka’s eyes every time he laughs like that is enough for him to keep the habit.

“I’m home!” Atsushi calls as he enters the bunker. The doors are reasonably soundproof, but the bunker has started to feel like a home to Atsushi, and he’s used to announcing himself when walking into his home. Atsushi makes his way back to the shared bathroom, stripping his wet clothes off as he goes. It seems like no one is home, so a towel will do for a run back to the room.

When Atsushi steps out of the shower, he expects the hallway to be just as empty as it was when he went in. Dazai in the hallway makes him jump.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun!” Dazai waves. Atsushi takes in his position, squatting against the wall as if he were sitting in a chair. Atsushi doesn’t want to know. He, in fact, knows better than to ask.

“Dazai-san, what are you doing?” he asks. He’s still wrapped in just a towel. He’s exhausted.

“New suicide method,” Dazai says. “I read it in one of the books we stole a while back and I’ve been thinking about trying it out ever since.”

“Why are wall sits a suicide method?” Atsushi asks.

“Wall sits?”

“They used to make us do them at the orphanage when we broke the rules,” Atsushi says. Sometimes his thighs still burn from the memory. “They’re hard on your legs, but I don’t know how they would kill you.”

Dazai considers him for a moment, and then he pounds his fist in his hand.

“This wasn’t a suicide book!” he exclaims. “It was a torture book.”

Atsushi is exhausted.

“Why would you try to kill yourself now?” Atsushi asks. He grabs Dazai’s hand when Dazai reaches out and pulls him to his unsteady feet.

“Chuuya had some business on the other side of the West Block, and he’s most of my impulse control.”

“Please never explain your relationship to me.”

“Well, now that I’ve failed to kill myself yet again, can I get you some tea?” Dazai asks. “This place gets too quiet when everyone leaves.”

Atsushi is once again suddenly aware that he’s only wearing a towel.

“Let me get dressed first.”

When Atsushi steps into Dazai and Chuuya’s room with a quiet pardon the intrusion, now appropriately clothed, Dazai is doing his level best to burn everything to the ground.

“You don’t need the heat that high to make it boil!” Atsushi says, shooing Dazai away from the stove and instead turning the burner down to a reasonable level, one that isn’t threatening to lick the walls. “Is this another suicide thing?”

“Chuuya makes it look easy,” Dazai pouts. “He never lets me do anything. Except chop vegetables. With supervision.”

Atsushi has a new appreciation for Chuuya’s patience. He’ll never call Chuuya short-tempered again.

“You’re not much for cooking?” Atsushi asks.

“Never really learned,” Dazai says. “I didn’t have much of a reason to before I left No. 6, and once I was out here, there wasn’t much occasion.”

“I keep forgetting you grew up in No. 6,” Atsushi says. “And you knew Fukuzawa-san. What happened?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Dazai says. Atsushi waves his hand at the kettle. They’ve got time. “Well, as we’ve discussed, I had limited tolerance for my guardian. He was fine, I guess, but I was a rebellious teenager with parents that didn’t want me around. If I’m fair, I was a nightmare.”

Atsushi can see that. Dazai’s a bit of a nightmare now.

“So you used to hang around the detective agency?” Atsushi asks.

“Fukuzawa-sensei taught me the tricks of the trade,” Dazai says. “It was just him and Ranpo-san back then. They found Yosano right before I left.”

“You left?”

“Was taken. Semantics.” Dazai shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Like I said, I was rebellious. My parents were No. 6 officials, really high up. They didn’t have much time for a kid, but they decided they should have one anyway. Something something do our duty something. Mori-san is a distant relative, so he looked after me. But as you can imagine, the perfect outlet for me was poking at No. 6’s secrets.”

“Oh no,” Atsushi says, because he suddenly understands very well what happened to Dazai.

“Oh yes,” Dazai says. “I have to admit, I’m surprised they were able to list me as a suicide victim. I figured they’d say I was executed for crimes against No. 6. Then again, maybe my history preceded me. If it had been suicide, it wouldn’t have been my first attempt.”

“Really?”

“Like I said. I wasn’t an easy kid.” Dazai sighs. “Anyway, they dragged me to the Correctional Facility, threw me in with Chuuya, gave my parents the chance to get me out, they refused to sacrifice their positions in No. 6 for me, Chuuya and I escaped, and the rest is history.”

Atsushi freezes, because there is so much to unpack there that he doesn’t even know where to start, much less the fact that he’s pretty sure the rest is not just history. It takes him through pouring hot water over teabags to decide where he wants to start.

“Why was Chuuya-san in there?” he asks. Dazai leans in, tea clutched between his hands, a conspiratorial look on his face.

“Chuuya was a science experiment,” Dazai says. “They were trying to figure out enhancements. I’m not sure what they were trying to do with him specifically, but what ended up happening was superhuman strength.”

“How superhuman?” Atsushi asks.

“I know you’ve seen him pick up things around here,” Dazai says. Atsushi nods. They’d been moving some furniture around in the room he shares with the Akutagawa siblings, and he’d gone to offer to help Chuuya lift a bookcase. Chuuya had done it on his own, easily, without looking like he was doing more than picking up a book. “That’s not even a fraction of his strength. He could probably punch down the wall around No. 6 if he set his mind to it.”

Dazai and Chuuya have quite the backstory. But they’re not the only ones here who do.

“Akutagawa and Gin, what happened to them?” Atsushi asks. He knows it has to have been something. Akutagawa showed up in a typhoon, shot and running from No. 6. Gin has burn scars on her back. Atsushi has seen her pull up her shirt to put ice on them on particularly bad days. He’s not sure how the two are connected.

“No. 6 killed their whole village,” Dazai says. “I don’t know why, and the two of them were too young to remember. All we know is, No. 6 went into their forest and burned it down, and as far as we know, those two are the only ones that survived.”

“And No. 6 hunted them down for it,” Atsushi says. Dazai nods.

“Gin managed to make it out of No. 6, and we found her,” he says. “Akutagawa wasn’t so lucky. They took him to the Correctional Facility for a few months for testing.”

“Just long enough to implant a tracking chip in him,” Atsushi says.

“We got that out as soon as we found him,” Dazai says. “And all’s well that ends well, as they say.”

“What could one village have that threatened No. 6 enough for them to burn it down?” Atsushi muses, more to himself than to Dazai.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Dazai says. “Why? The siblings were too young to remember much about the people they grew up with, and they spent years on the run before they were finally free. If they knew anything, they’ve forgotten it by now. So what was in that village that meant it had to be torched?”

“It was outside No. 6, right?” Atsushi asks.

“Far enough away that No. 6 still hasn’t expanded enough to take that land in,” Dazai confirms. “As far as the siblings remember, and as far as we can tell, the village never interacted with No. 6.”

“Maybe they weren’t a threat,” Atsushi says. “Maybe No. 6 wanted something they had.”

“An interesting theory, and one we can’t pursue,” Dazai says. “There’s no records to be found.”

That makes sense, even if Atsushi’s sense of curiosity keeps turning the new information over and over, looking for new connections.

“No wonder Akutagawa hates No. 6 so much,” he finally says. “No wonder he’s so angry.”

Understanding Akutagawa isn’t a comfortable feeling. Sympathy is even less so.

But with a story like that, it’s almost no wonder that Akutagawa sees the world as cruel, as a place where the right to live must be taken. Akutagawa has spent his whole life fighting for his survival, and it might be easier for him to see the world as a zero-sum game. Maybe admitting that what happened to him was horrific, was cruel and unusual, maybe that hurts worse than just thinking this is how the world must be.

“He’s actually gotten a little better about that temper since we found him,” Dazai says. “I really did think I was going to end up having to kill him in his sleep.”

“Isn’t that a little extreme?”

“He’s angry, and when his anger takes over his mind, he gets reckless,” Dazai says. “That makes him dangerous. He was a threat to us all. That was what I thought then, and it’s what I thought until recently.”

“What happened recently?”

“Well, you, first of all.” Atsushi must be making one hell of a face, because Dazai laughs. “You didn’t inspire some change of heart in him, that’s not what I meant. Akutagawa…well, he has his shortcomings, but he’s got a good brain in that head of his. His kneejerk emotional reaction might be violence, but if he can override that, he’s good at thinking on his feet, and he’s good at a support role.”

“And I make him override that emotional response?” Atsushi is pretty sure he causes that response half the time.

“Akutagawa is someone who needs an emergency brake,” Dazai says. “Gin works a little bit, but she’s nearly as angry as him. And Chuuya enables them both, but they probably need someone like him. I can admit Chuuya is better at dealing with Akutagawa than I’ve ever been.”

“An emergency brake?” Atsushi asks.

“You make him think twice,” Dazai says. “Especially since you can take point enough for him to step back and think, but also because you challenge him. And that deal you two made? If killing as an option is taken off the table, he really does have to use his head. It was a stroke of brilliance. I never would have taken you for such a manipulative person, Atsushi-kun.”

“Isn’t that a little bit of the pot calling the kettle black?” Atsushi asks. Dazai is the last person he wants calling him manipulative.

“The pot happens to be right,” Dazai says. “I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to say the two of you are good for each other when you’re not trying to kill each other. Maybe even when you are. It’s good to have someone who challenges you, right?”

“I guess,” Atsushi says.

That sympathy for Akutagawa squeezes in his chest again. Even though the boy Akutagawa used to be is long gone, Atsushi still remembers the vulnerable look in those too-big eyes all those years ago. There was a time they could look at each other without fighting, and Atsushi is old enough to recognize that most of the fights they’ve had in the last month are fights he’s picked. Akutagawa largely leaves him alone, and it’s getting harder and harder for Atsushi to convince himself he still hates Akutagawa.

It’s very nearly like they’re friends, although Atsushi has never had a friendship like this.

“Oi, Dazai, what trouble did you get in while I was gone?” Chuuya is back, throwing the heavy door open easily. “Oh, Nakajima. What are you doing here?”

“We’re having tea,” Dazai says, holding up his mug to demonstrate. Chuuya turns to Atsushi.

“Did he try to burn the place down again?” he asks.

“I took over the kettle,” Atsushi says diplomatically. He respects Dazai, but not enough to save him from whatever wrath Chuuya has for him.

“Good man,” Chuuya says. “Clear out so I can kick my shitty husband’s ass.”

“You’re abusive,” Dazai whines. “I didn’t even get in any trouble today.”

“Likely story. Get over here.”

“No!”

Atsushi ducks out. He’s almost certain that was foreplay, somehow. He really never wants either of them to explain their relationship to him.

“Oi, Jinko.”

Atsushi might still be caught up in his conversation with Dazai, but rather than the automatic response he usually has to Akutagawa, this time, he actually stops to listen.

Akutagawa throws a piece of paper at him.

“Your dad says he’s glad you’re alive,” Akutagawa says. Atsushi unfurls the paper with shaking hands to see familiar handwriting.

“You told Fukuzawa-san I’m here?” he asks, voice gone high and breathy.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Akutagawa scoffs. “I wanted his help with something. That’s all.”

Atsushi lets that go, because this is a kindness from Akutagawa, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to keep up their dynamic when Akutagawa can be kind, when Akutagawa inspires sympathy, when Akutagawa is human.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Akutagawa turns, and Atsushi swears his cheeks have flushed a little from the acknowledgement. “Do you think Gin will make stew tonight if we ask?”

Atsushi follows Akutagawa inside, already preparing to help him wear Gin down by asking.