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He’s not a meddlesome person. He believes that each person has their own way of dealing with their own problems, and overstepping one’s boundaries is very uncool. That said, he’s also not the sort to let things remain lying down, especially if it involves someone weaker getting beaten up.
It’s just a short detour, anyway.
His evenings are usually spent patrolling Sheep’s territory from above, hopping from one rooftop to another. His strides land him from one roof missing some shingles to one that’s just a flat top of cement. The alley network in the slums is trickier than a wriggling snake, leading to various dead-ends. GPS and compasses are useless here; one has to rely on muscle memory and a good nose to sniff out dangerous traps.
Kagerou is a gang that takes advantage of these snaking pathways, lurking in the dark in order to make a quick victim of the hapless idiots who end up foolishly taking a wrong turn. They also do a side-hustle of offering bodyguard services to those who wish to come to Suribachi Island, but that also becomes a prelude to them betraying the fool who hires them; being left in one’s underpants is already considerably merciful, since the alternative is to end up dead in a ditch.
Chuuya doesn’t really want to clash against Kagerou. Sheep’s rule is straightforward enough: to never attack anyone out of their own volition, only raising arms in the event of a counterattack. They’re not looking to expand their influence, they’re definitely not looking forward to creating beef with others who share the same island as them.
But for some reason, Chuuya finds himself scaling down the building he’s in, not using the tell-tale red of his gravity manipulation.
Thankfully, he likes to wear hoodies. With the help of the thick clouds and the lack of streetlamps, he could hide his colorful hair and his infamous face. Whatever he’s about to do is something for the individual ‘Nakahara Chuuya’, without Sheep’s involvement, after all.
This is a deep dead-end, with no hope of escaping if one isn’t an expert in these alleys’ twists and turns. There’s one lanky beanpole surrounded by members sporting Kagerou’s jackets. There’s a dirty sack of cloth over the beanpole’s head, hiding his face. He should look pitiful, coupled with the ropes around his wrists and ankles. Instead of wiggling around like a worm, he stays standing still, acting like a wonderful hanger for his formal clothes.
A full suit, like those models in the front cover of a magazine. Even though he must have been manhandled all the way here, there isn’t a lot of wrinkles on his attire. He retains the stiff lines of his starched suit, complete with a charcoal vest over his white long sleeve. His outercoat isn’t buttoned, and his cuffs are undone. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, but even if the cloth sack covers up to his neck, there’s no need for Chuuya to see his Adam’s apple to know that he’s not the sort to swallow nervously in this type of situation.
He exudes a lazy aura, one that is too amenable to simply letting himself get robbed.
And for some reason, Chuuya still scales down the building in order to disrupt this robbery.
Maybe he’s just really bored, and Kagerou’s members are looking too annoying to his eyes right now. Or maybe he’s just needing to vent out some pent-up frustration, since he hasn’t been able to have a good fight in weeks. It should make him happy, that his presence is acting as a proper deterrent against those who wish to challenge Sheep. But it still makes for boring days, and it also isn’t so nice to be considered as a scary monster who can defeat anything. He doesn’t actually want to scare any of the youngsters from Sheep, after all.
In any case, whatever the reason is, he’s already moving forward.
Hands in his pockets and hoodie up his head, he jumps down from the third floor, landing right in front of the lanky beanpole.
“Oops, sorry to interrupt,” is full of insincerity. He pitches it low, just in case others end up recognizing him by his voice. “Can I trouble you guys to clear the way? I want to stroll in this street.”
Kagerou’s leader is an ill-tempered man, a quality shared by all of his goons. As expected, it makes the six guys around him huff in disbelief, before immediately crowding him up, long metal bats in their hands. “Aaa? Who the fuck are you to butt in, kid?!”
“I told you, I want to stroll in this street.” He shrugs, nose twitching at the foul smell of cheap cigarettes and unwashed clothes. He remains standing in front of the beanpole, who doesn’t step back from him, apparently keen on imitating a statue.
…A well-dressed one, down to the leather shoes that seem to have some dust-repellant qualities. If there’s anything to ruin the look, it’s the white bandages peeking out from the edge of his undone cuffs. Perhaps that’s the real thing that snags his attention, the real reason why he has decided to meddle in this situation.
From his knowledge, people in high society—or at least, the ones who like to dress like this—are ones who like to project a strong, confident look. They like their fanfare and their masks, their pretense that everything is fine and peachy. It’s a bit interesting to see an obviously rich kid display such an obvious weakness, in the form of bandages.
Despite the squalor, Chuuya’s nose is sharp enough that he could smell his surroundings well. He doesn’t smell the telltale scent of antiseptics from this beanpole, so he isn’t actually injured that badly. Bandages around the wrist must mean a shallow cut there, or at least a suggestion of one. Rich people are addicted to stuffing their problems away from the public eye, so for this guy to hint at a failed suicide attempt so blatantly is… ballsy. Incomprehensible, perhaps. But it’s interesting, at the very least.
Chuuya finds himself being the littlest bit interested, that’s all.
And that’s why he continues to act as a wall, even when two Kagerou members simultaneously try to shove him away by his shoulders. “Get out of the way!”
“Are your ears just for decoration?” He doesn’t budge. Even two going at him at once isn’t enough to make him move back an inch, and he isn’t even using his Ability. “I told you to get away first.”
“This rich kid is our prey!”
“We’ve had our eye on this Tsushima brat for weeks, so you fuck off!”
“If you don’t step away, we’re going to beat the shit out of you!”
…Tsushima brat?
He half-turns, ignoring the yells from the Kagerous members. “Huh. So you’re some really rich bocchan.”
He may live in the slums, but that doesn’t mean he’s a complete ignoramus. ‘Tsushima’ is too important of a name, especially around the docks. That family is practically synonymous with Yokohama, being the leaders in the city’s opening as a port city. They’re the wealthiest family in the area, controlling so many businesses. The head of that infamous family is known to be a massive flirt, with so many kids that one’s hands and toes aren’t enough to count them all. Even accounting for that, even just an illegitimate child would still be worth so much.
No wonder these Kagerou members are gunning for him.
But why is this lanky beanpole here? Did he actually get kidnapped from his cushy mansion all the way here?
Tsk, what a weakling.
“…Mm,” the Tsushima brat sounds bored. With a voice muffled by the sack of cloth still over his head, “Whoever’s going to rob me, can you do it quickly? I’m going to fall asleep here.”
Despite himself, that makes Chuuya snort. “A bossy brat,” he says, doling out his judgment. “You can just stand there and play some rock music or something. I’ll take care of this quick.”
He’s a man of his word, so he makes quick work of the Kagerou members. He doesn’t use his Ability, in case someone snitches back and ends up placing the blame on Sheep. Just in case, he also discreetly kicks tiny stones towards the nearest security cameras, ones that work on a very infrequent basis. Better safe than sorry, after all.
In less than two minutes, he’s collected five metal bats, juggling them lightly. There’s a small mountain of fainted bodies on the ground. When he turns back to the Tsushima brat, the other maintains his position all throughout. He really does look like he’s a mannequin modeling his clothes, with how he’s just standing there, unruffled.
“Congratulations,” he says, the dryness of his tone obvious despite the muffled quality. “You now get to rob me.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in bullying a weakass.”
Sarcastically, “So you’ve done this out of the goodness of your heart?”
He tilts his head, considering. “You don’t smell like someone who fits this place, so go and scuttle back to your home.”
“Mm, but what is home? Is it not a place defined by myself? Where should I go, should I find myself unable to define one?”
“That’s a lot of words for saying that you’re homeless,” he says eventually. He’s already regretting saving this man. Now that the stink of Kagerou members have settled down, he could sense fishiness wafting off this guy. A troublesome experience. It’s best if they never interact further—Chuuya’s instincts tell him that to continue association with this man would bring his ruin.
“You sound like a simpleton, huh. Not surprising, given how you have displayed such a thuggish way of solving this issue.”
He drops the five metal bats atop the mountain of Kagerou’s bodies. He walks towards the Tsushima brat, looking at him from point-blank range. Because Kagerou is experienced in bullying weaklings like this, their kidnapping materials do their job. The sack of cloth is thick, just-enough to provide ventilation, but certainly not enough to give a good view of what’s going on outside. An effective blindfold to disorient their victims.
Chuuya can’t see his face, but he’s probably some ugly bastard with lots of fishy oiliness in his face. The type that would give him hives upon one look. Especially since he sounds like an ungrateful asshole. “I saved your life, so you could pipe down a bit, yeah?”
“I didn’t ask you to,” is very prim and very ungrateful.
“What-the-fuck-ever.” He clicks his tongue. “Then get home by yourself, I ain’t babysitting you.”
The face of the Tsushima brat isn’t visible, but he could almost picture it growing sour. “Hmph. You’ve saved me, so you should give me money to go home.”
“Ha? Did these bastards manage to steal your things already?” Then again, if they’re able to tie this lanky beanpole up, they should have been able to get his phone and his wallet in the process. He sighs deeply, rubbing the back of his neck before taking his wallet out so he can get a few bills. He stuffs them into the other’s pants’ pocket. “This should be enough to get you to the bus back to the main island, and some money for a Lawson meal and a payphone.”
Just as he says this, he feels his phone vibrate. Shit. His patrol should be over, so the guys at the base should be looking for him already.
Then, Chuuya’s surprised by another thing.
The Tsushima brat moves forward and gives him a hug.
…A hug??????
Wait, aren’t his hands tied up???????
It’s a quick one, but still enough to bewilder him.
“Thanks for your help,” sounds so sweet compared to the other’s attitude, that it successfully makes his brain freeze. There’s a bit of laughter as he simpers “My hero.”
Blergh.
As he’s thought, he’s going to get hives from dealing with this man!
He jumps up, wanting to get away as fast as possible. Since this guy has somehow loosened the ropes on his hands, he can handle removing the sack over his head on his own! Chuuya’s not gonna stick around anymore!
"Shut the fuck up and get out of here already,” he screeches, before hightailing it out of there by jumping swiftly, his face somehow feeling feverish. Probably because the cloth sack is very dirty when it brushed against his cheek? Urghhhhh.
He shakes his head and resolves to forget about this encounter.
And because he runs away quickly—no, it’s a strategical retreat in order to protect his sanity—he doesn’t witness the next things that happen.
Right there in the dead-end of one of Suribachi Island’s many alleys, stands Tsushima Shuuji. He slowly takes off the thick sack of cloth from his head, ruffling his hair a bit. His one eye is bandaged, but it doesn’t stop him from being able to observe all the details from the wallet that he’s snatched off his ‘savior’s’ pockets during the ‘hug’ just now.
“No ID and no cards,” he sighs, a bit disappointed, but not too surprised. This is the place for the lawless, after all. Not having government identification isn’t so surprising. “Not a lot of money too.”
But there’s a name in one of the receipts tucked inside, from some arcade. Rather than a ‘name’, it’s a very chuuni self-proclaimed ‘title’.
[The Great King of Slaughter Chuuya]
It’s really so childish it makes one laugh. “Pfft, how ugly,” he judges. He looks at the surroundings, at the filth and squalor. This place is boring too, but it’s a little bit less boring that being in that rich mansion full of hollowness. “I was hoping I’d get killed if I’m kidnapped, but why is their technique so bad?”
Maybe he should learn how to kidnap someone so that the next time, he can direct this kind of play from behind the scenes, and attain the suicide that he wants?
“Maybe I should ask Mori-san for help… He has connections to the Port Mafia, if I’m not mistaken…”
For most people, life-changing decisions are made over long days of consideration.
For him, it only takes a moment.
“If I’m to leave that place, I should change my name too.” He rubs the receipt in his hand, still disdaining and laughing at the childishness of the words there. “How about I become ‘Dazai’ instead… as for the first name, I’d decide on that later.”
Unbeknownst to them, in some tiny corner of a considerable dead-end, there’s one accidental meeting that jumpstarts fate—
—Dazai, Chuuya, 14.
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end