Chapter Text
The needle caught the light.
That was all it took. One glint of silver between Mori's fingers and Dazai was already moving
a full-body flinch that sent his elbow careening toward the doctor's jaw
Chuuya caught him.
Not gracefully. There was nothing graceful about it, he launched himself bodily across the room, got a forearm under Dazai's chest, and practically wrestled him back onto the infirmary bed, the two of them landing in an ungainly heap of limbs and creaking springs.
The overhead light swung from the impact.
"Dammit, Mackerel, sit still," Chuuya growled, voice muffled against Dazai's shoulder. He got a knee on either side of Dazai's hips and used his full weight to pin him flat, he had at least four inches and a solid ten kilograms of muscle on Dazai. The problem was that Dazai was slippery
Dazai let out a sound that was half protest, half something he absolutely would have denied making if asked about it later, and then Chuuya realized his fingers had ended up over Dazai's mouth at some point during the scramble, pressing the noise flat.
He left them there. If Dazai wanted to bite him, he was welcome to try.
From across the room, Mori Ougai let out a longsigh
He completed the blood draw entirely unbothered by the chaos that had just unfolded three feet to his left. The needle slid free. He pressed a small square of gauze to the inside of Dazai's elbow without looking up.
"That should be enough," he said pleasantly. "Thank you, Dazai."
Chuuya held position for another two seconds before he climbed off. He straightened his coat with a sharp tug at the collar, shook out his hand where the skin had gone briefly numb from Dazai's jaw, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Dazai sat up. He looked at the gauze taped to his arm.
"I don't understand," Chuuya said flatly, "why you're so scared of needles."
"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy." Dazai turned his head toward the far wall
Chuuya stared at the side of his face for a moment before deciding it was one of the things Dazai would never tell him
He turned back to Mori instead, who had already moved to his desk and was securing the blood sample inside a small sealed apparatus that Chuuya didn't recognize.
"Are you going to fill us in," Chuuya said.
Mori swiveled his chair to face them "I'd assumed Dazai would have brought you up to speed already," he said, with an air of mild surprise that convinced no one. "Oh well. As you both know, a decision needed to be made regarding the two of you, where to place you, specifically." He raised both hands, palms up, holding the options in the air like scales. "After careful consideration, I've decided: Dazai to UA. Chuuya to the LOV."
The room went quiet for exactly half a second.
"Hauhhh?!"
Dazai retorted, one hand flying out to gesture at absolutely nothing. "How come this dog gets to go play villain?!" He twisted toward Chuuya with an expression of personal injury. "I didn't agree to this! You're altering my plan,Mori-san —"
"Who are you calling a dog?!"
Chuuya's fist connected with the top of Dazai's. Dazai's protest was cut off. He pressed one hand to his skull and shot Chuuya a look
Mori continued as though none of this had happened.
"Your objectives are as follows," he said, folding one leg over the other. "Dazai, your mission is to cause distrust between the hero’s. Chuuya yours is to cause distrust among the villians" He paused, letting that settle. "The internal conflict of these two societies will significantly stall any effort to extend hero or villain influence further into Yokohama. You've seen the reports, heroes and villains alike walking into our city under the assumption that they can operate without consequence." He gave a small pause "I'd like to correct that assumption."
Dazai had gone quiet. "I still think it's unnecessary," he said, not looking up. "My original plan would have worked."
"Your plan was wonderful, as always." Mori said warmly. "Genuinely. But you see, Dazai, it asked too much of you in terms of time. And I'm afraid I've become rather attached to having you nearby." He tilted his head slightly. "A small indulgence. So I'm accelerating the timeline and these —" he turned toward his desk, "are how."
He picked up a small case and withdrew a single bullet, holding it up between two fingers.
The thing was unremarkable to look at. Brass-cased, standard caliber, the kind of thing that would pass through a routine inspection without a second glance. What distinguished it was a faint, discoloration at the tip. Like a bruise pressed into the metal.
Mori tossed it across the room.
Dazai caught it, turned it over in his fingers. His expression didn't change, but his eyes did sharpening, the way they did when something had caught his interest against his will.
"Go on," he said.
"The bullet is infused with your blood," Mori said simply. "Processed, of course, it required some additional preparation to stabilize it. But the mechanism is yours." He paused. "When the bullet makes contact, the effect is painless. The target won't feel anything unusual beyond the wound itself. But within seconds, their quirk will be suppressed completely for anywhere between five and ten minutes. The variation depends on the individual's physiology; how quickly the body recognizes and expels the foreign element."
The room was quiet.
Chuuya had leaned forward slightly t, eyes fixed on the bullet in Dazai's hand. He caught himself and straightened. "Why are you only using them now?" he asked. "If you had this —"
"I'm not without principles, Chuuya." Mori sounded almost gently offended. "Dazai's body is not a something id sell lightly. That sort of thing—" he gestured vaguely toward the apparatus on the desk, "— requires a willing participant and a certain degree of... trust. I wouldn't have done it at all if I had another option." He smiled. "Besides, there's a limitation. It only works on quirks. Not abilities.".
Dazai's gaze lifted from the bullet to Mori's face.
He didn't say anything. His expression was the same as it always was
But it didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking ‘he would have.’
Dazai set the bullet down on the mattress beside him.
"You care about me so much," he said, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
"Oh, I do," Mori agreed,
A beat of silence. Then "I see." Dazai stared at some fixed point above his head, "You've flipped the plan. The version I designed had them finding me by accident. You've replaced the accident with intention." He glanced toward Mori. "They'll be looking for the source of the bullet. Which is me."
"Correct, as always."
"So they come to me instead of me going to them. Faster." He was quiet for another moment. "And you've already distributed them."
"They're currently the most sought-after item on the underground market," Mori confirmed, with a pleased tone
"Can someone please —" Chuuya's elbow caught Dazai in the ribs. "Fill me in. Now."
Mori sighed "You really ought to loop him in more often, Dazai."
Dazai groaned like the suggestion had caused him pain. "Fine. Originally, the plan was for you to be the one in distress. Pretty little redhead, helpless, needs rescuing, heroes would have fallen over themselves." He waved a hand. "Mori has decided I'm better suited for the role."
"What Dazai is generously summarizing," Mori said smoothly, "is that your role is to establish yourself within the League of Villains as a dealer. Introduce the bullet into their network." He paused "Once the heroes become aware of a quirk-suppression weapon, they'll want the source."
"Which is me," Dazai said, from where he'd gone back to examining the ceiling. "And once they want the source badly enough, theyll start by trying to save me and then recruit me. And then —" he spread one hand, "— I'm inside UA, exactly where I need to be."
Chuuya scoffed, Smart idiot