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The new kid that clings to Kouyou’s kimono is weird, and that’s about all that Dazai knows of him.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Dazai knows the others name is Chuuya; he’s heard Kouyou croon it softly to the boy when she thinks no one else is around. He knows that the other speaks in choppy Japanese, and when he does speak intelligibly, he says strange things that make little to no sense and that he has a ridiculous hat he’s very attached to. He knows that Chuuya’s hair is an unnaturally bright red and his eyes are a royal blue color, so he can only assume that the other isn’t fully Japanese.
Dazai may actually have a slight obsession with Chuuya Nakahara, now that he considers it.
It’s a one sided obsession, in any case. The other seems to be naturally shy, with no inclination to speak to anyone, and he seems particularly apprehensive of Dazai. Which, being fair, Dazai can admit that he’s far from normal and Chuuya’s survival instincts are working if he knows to stay away.
Still, it’s frustrating to not get what he wants, and he’s petty enough to admit this. It’s hard to talk to someone who makes it a goal to actively avoid him at every turn.
Mori is the one who throws them together, in the end. Dazai is used to being called to his mentor’s office. What he’s not used to is being there with someone else.
Chuuya looks utterly terrified, eye’s wide open and trembling slightly. It crosses Dazai’s mind that the mafia doesn’t usually take in those who can’t support themselves, so he’s missing something crucial about the redhead but can’t exactly say what.
“There’s a pocket of resistance in the west.” Mori speaks and snaps Dazai out of his thoughts. “The two of you will go there and put it down.”
At this point in his life, Dazai knows better than to argue against Mori, so he hums his agreement. His mentor has an ulterior motive to sending the two of them somewhere, and he suspects that there are greater things in the work. There’s something about Chuuya that Mori wants Dazai to take advantage of, but it’s up to him to figure it out.
Right now, all he cares about is the opportunity he’s been given to find out more about Chuuya.
“We’ll return.” He says simply, and then he turns to leave, grabbing Chuuya’s arm on the way out.
It’s then that Dazai learns something else about Chuuya-he’s a lot stronger than he looks, for someone so pretty. From the moment the two had left Mori’s office, the smaller male had thrashed against him, fighting to break free. If he wasn’t so sure the other would bolt the second he let go, Dazai would have, because Chuuya’s elbow actually really hurt. Somehow, Dazai had forced him into the car that was supposed to take them to the drop off point, and the other had slumped over and refused to react to anything the whole drive.
*
“Listen, we have to work together.” Dazai feels a little bit like he’s lecturing a two year old, which is a novel feeling to say the least. Chuuya has been staring at the ground since they were dropped off, shoulders slumped and still stubbornly mute.
Dazai sighs. “Alright, let’s try something simple then. Hello Chuuya, my name is Dazai.” And he sticks his hand out to the other.
Chuuya looks up and stares at him like he has six heads, but at least he’s finally made eye contact. His eyes are pretty even when he’s being judged by them.
“This is normally the part where you say hello back and shake my hand.” Dazai informs him.
He doesn't get a chance to see if Chuuya will cooperate or not, because there’s suddenly shouting and a group of armed men is heading towards them. He takes a brief moment to be frustrated with himself for not noticing their approach, and another to blame it on Chuuya and his problematic ways.
Stepping forward, he meets the first few head on. His physical combat abilities aren’t exactly up to snuff, but these men aren’t that well trained and go down easily enough. A quiet cry behind him changes things.
A few of them have looped around behind them, and Chuuya is backed into a corner. Without much thought, Dazi is moving across the room and in front of the other. A gun is suddenly waving in front of his face, and he curses under his breath. Behind him, Chuuya inhales sharply.
The gun rings out one, two, three, four, five times and Dazai grits his teeth and closes his eyes, bracing for impact.
He hits the ground hard, but not because he’s been shot.
Chuuya has shouldered him out of the way, hand outstretched in front of him with his palm held up. Five bullets are pressed against his gloved hand, seemingly frozen in place. He looks very different from the boy who was shaking in Mori’s office a few hours ago; this Chuuya has a look in his eye, one that Dazai has seen before in his own reflection. It’s the look of someone who has power and knows they do, someone who’s not afraid to use it for their own personal gain. This is the Chuuya that Mori wanted him to see, the one who could very easily be a professional killer.
The men around them must sense the shift in atmosphere as well, because they back off a few steps, panicked and disorganized.
“You’re an ability user.” It’s more of an observation than a question, but Chuuya gives him a brief nod anyway. The bullets clatter to the ground as Dazai gets back on his feet. “Well then,” he says, a smirk on his face, “This should be fun.”
*
When they’re done, carnage and silence left in their wake, Dazai turns to Chuuya again. The redhead is breathing hard, his hair is in a state of disarray, and his eyes are gleaming. There’s been a shift between the two of them, some deep rooted emotion that has bound them together, and Dazai thinks that Chuuya is suddenly just as interested in him as he is in the redhead.
“Let’s try this again.” He says casually, sticking his hand out and grinning at the other. “Hello.”
And Chuuya gives him a small smile in return. “Hello.” His voice is soft and his accent is obvious and the leather of the redheads glove is cool and soft against his palm.
*
“I should’ve fucking left you to die on that first mission.” Chuuya mutters, glaring at Dazai. The taller man is lounging on the sofa in the other’s apartment, making himself at home.
“Yeah, but then who would’ve taught you to speak proper Japanese?” A pillow is thrown at him, and he knocks it to the ground with a lazy swipe of his hand.
“It’s been two years Dazai. Two long, painful years of being your partner. Let it go.” With a groan, Chuuya collapses on top of him, taking care to dig his elbows into Dazai’s ribs.
“How are you still so bony?”
“How are you still so obnoxious?” Dazai snorts, and with a flick of his wrist, knocks Chuuya’s hat off, ignoring the other’s cry of protest.
“Natural talent and charm.” Chuuya moves to punch him, but there’s not a whole lot of force behind it. Dazai catches his hand and laces his fingers with the others. Two years have changed them, but for the better, he thinks.
“Hello Chuuya.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to the others knuckles.
His partner is bright red in the face and when he speaks it’s the same soft, accented voice he used so long ago.
“Hello Dazai.”