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Failure is a new emotion for Dazai.
He can count on one hand the number of times someone has actually surprised him in his short life on this planet, and the instances are all few and far between. And they’ve never been something that he couldn’t work with, something he can’t fix with some clever improvisation.
No, this is a whole new beast, and he doesn’t like it.
The mission should have been routine. Rescue Q, stop the Guild. When Chuuya shows up, it’s both a blessing and a curse. He’s known the redhead for a long, long time. Chuuya’s trust is hard earned, but Dazai has it. Well, had it before his desertion. But personal feelings aside, the years of working together haven’t faded from existance; him and Chuuya are just as in synch as the last time they worked a job together.
And it’s...nice to work with him again. He teases Chuuya mercilessly and the other rises to the bait fantastically, just like he always has. In return, Chuuya spits insults at him so frequently and efficiently it’s like a second language to him. For a moment, it’s like the past few years haven’t happened and nothing has changed between him and his partner. Trust is a two way street after all.
Trust, however, is not always enough to win a battle.
Honestly, it really is a last ditch effort to use Corruption. It’s destructive power is unparalleled, but it’s a pain to deal with for a number of reasons. But this man-no, not a man, this monster that Lovecraft has transformed into-is becoming problematic itself. He brings it up with an easy grin, tilting his head at the shorter man. Chuuya looks like he’s swallowed a lemon whole, but grits his teeth and agrees to the plan without even making Dazai swear to step in when it’s over.
He tries to ignore the uncomfortable fluttering of his heart when he realizes that Chuuya still trusts him to cancel Corruption despite all the bad blood between them.
They knew the risks. Chuuya knew the risks, and went along with him anyway, because Dazai was (had been, will always be) his partner and he trusted him. And Dazai had known this, known that Chuuya would go along with his plans because he always has, and his plans never fail so there’s no real risk. If he...had he known what would happen, he never would have put his partner in such danger.
The chant for Corruption is familiar to the both of them, and Dazai remembers watching as the redhead explodes with the power of his true ability. The boy they had knocked out earlier-Steinbeck, if he’s not mistaken-is starting to come to, and Dazai is ready, Chuuya’s knife pressed against his throat.
Whatever it is that Lovecraft has transformed into, it still isn’t a match for the power of Corruption. It helps that Steinbeck can’t keep his mouth shut and tips Dazai off on the secret to destroying him, he does suppose. He takes great pleasure of informing the boy just how Chuuya’s power worked, and even greater satisfaction in watching his face twist in terror. Lovecraft is ripped apart from the inside out and not a second too soon. The blood pouring from Chuuya’s mouth and nose is starting to reach alarming quantities.
“You said he’ll die if he doesn’t cancel that power, didn’t you?” Dazai had almost forgotten about Steinbeck, but his question is enough to ring alarm bells in his head. He’s not expecting the frail boy to be as strong as he is, and the elbow that is shoved at him hurts a lot more than he thought it would. It’s a good try on the kids part, but Dazai has been trained by the mafia. His combat abilities aren’t on the same level as Chuuya’s but he’s more than capable of handling himself.
The whole scuffle lasts for only a few seconds, but a few seconds is all that Steinbeck needed. Steinbeck is grinning at him, eyes focused on something just over his shoulder. Everything clicks into place in a sudden moment of clarity, and a chill runs down his spine.
He’s failed Chuuya.
He turns around (abandoning every instinct in him that screams not to show his back to the enemy) just in time to see his partner collapse on the ground, screaming in pain. Suddenly, he doesn’t care very much about Steinbeck or what he may do; Chuuya has become priority number one.
By the time he’s dashed over to his partner’s side, Chuuya is convulsing on the ground, choking on his own blood. Something that feels very much like fear is coursing through Dazai’s body, and he grabs onto Chuuya’s hand, squeezing it tightly with his own. Brushing some of the hair out of Chuuya’s face, Dazai is briefly relieved to see the emptiness fade from his partners eyes, twisted black iris’ becoming a dull blue instead.
Up close, Dazai can see just how much of a mess the other is. Corruption has taken its’ toll on the other’s body; the flesh on his hands looks like it’s been peeled off as does patches on his cheeks. His clothes are in tatters, and he can’t seem to stop twitching.
“Shit.” Dazai doesn’t even really he’s said that out loud until Chuuya gives a quiet chuckle. The chuckle leads to a horrible cough that leads to the redhead dribbling even more blood down his chin.
“Fuck you too.” He rasps between his coughs, and Dazai shifts so that he can better support the other as his body is ravaged by his own power.
“I know it’s hard, but you should probably shut up. I can’t imagine that it’s helping you in any way.” Dazai keeps his tone light, trying to stop his heart from racing and his hands from shaking.
“I hate to say it, but I don’t think there’s anything that can help me anymore.”
“Not with that attitude.” His voice comes out much sharper than he intended it to, and his hand (that is still holding Chuuya’s, he notes) squeezes the other hard.
“You’re not dumb Dazai.” It’s surreal, how gentle Chuuya’s voice is. Weakly, he squeezes Dazai’s hand back. “Look at me.”
“I am.” He promises the other, not quite able to keep the tremble out of his voice. “You look like the same angry hat store that you always have.”
“Bastard.” Chuuya coughs again, and a violent tremor wracks his body.
“I’m the suicidal freak, not you.” He’s given up on trying to keep his voice even.
“Shit happens Dazai.” Chuuya offers him a small smile, and Dazai can see everything in his eyes. His partner is dying in his arms because he made a miscalculation, and he doesn’t blame him at all for it. Chuuya doesn’t, but that’s okay because Dazai blames himself entirely.
“Hey.” Chuuya’s voice is barely above a whisper, and Dazai has to lean in to hear his partner. “Give ‘em hell for me.” Years of pent up emotion catch in his throat, and Dazai doesn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he presses a kiss to Chuuya’s forehead and hums quietly. Chuuya understands him all the same.
There’s nothing more to say after that.
The reality of the situation doesn’t hit him immediately. It doesn’t hit him as he turns to look for Steinbeck, only to see that the other has escaped. It doesn’t hit him as he picks Chuuya’s limp body up off the ground, cradling it close to his chest, nor does it hit him as he makes his way back to the Port Mafia’s hideout or when Mori comes to greet him and his face wipes clean of emotion as he eyes the corpse Dazai is holding so delicately.
It finally does hits him as he watches from afar, as a black coffin is lowered into newly turned over earth in a quite, isolated part of town. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Him and Chuuya were supposed to be unstoppable, the terrifying Double Black of the Port Mafia. He’s always been the one who had been fascinated with death, not Chuuya and he should not be attending the funeral of his friend, his partner, his…everything. It’s all very, very wrong.
Failure is a new emotion for Dazai, and it has cost him everything.