Chapter Text
A painfully familiar ache gnawed at his ribs. No thanks to the tightly wrapped bandages, of course. Dazai was more than aware binding with bandages was a health hazard, and came with excessive risks. But plainly, he didn’t care. He was in the mafia, something so pointless like safe binding was hardly even a second thought. With the constant risk of having a bullet through your head, there wasn’t any time to think about potentially broken or bruised ribs and damaged skin. Dazai’s mind was preoccupied anyway, the pain was a secondary concern compared to planning a mission which would result in death or worse if planned incorrectly. The mafioso was use to it anyways.
“-which is why extra precaution is necessary. We’re more likely to reduce the death toll if we scout and map out the enemy base more.” Dazai continued his proposition with a blank and uninterested voice, while picking at the corners of the stack of paper he held.
“We cannot wait any longer for the infiltration, Dazai. Wasting any more time will give them more time to escape.” Mori spoke dismissively, clearly not considering the boy’s proposition in the slightest. The sound of fists being slammed on the table brought Dazai out of his bored daze. Chuuya’s unsurprisingly loud voice growled.
“Boss, we all get that. But how the hell is more of our comrades dying any better!? We may as well prevent as many deaths as possible, goddamnit!”
“Chuuya, I’ve already given my response. Losing a few grunts is worth the sacrifice, if it means the mafia reinstates it’s position in Yokohama.” The mafia boss sighed in response to the redheads objection.
Chuuya growled, staring at the table in irritation.
“The Port Mafia is still as strong as ever. Some shitty gang isn’t gonna change that. All we’d be doing is wasting resources.” Mori exhaled deeply at Chuuya’s words of protest. Although, no one was really surprised that he did. The boy made sense after all, and from Dazai’s logical point of view, it was the best way to go about things. Mori however, eyed Dazai expectantly, clearly expecting him to speak up on Mori’s behalf.
“Honestly, even after being in the mafia for more than a year, slug is still as dumb as ever! And here I thought he learnt something. Turns out the saying is wrong, you can’t teach a old dog new tricks.” The brunette leaned back on his chair, disguising a harsh wince of pain with a mocking sigh.
“Fuckin- shut up shitty Dazai! I make perfect sense and you know it!”
Dazai clicked his tongue in response.
“I’ll be a kind owner and explain the oh-so complicated situation to my dog. The organisation we are infiltrating isn’t just a ‘shitty gang’. They’re an oversees group who are almost Port-mafia-level of influence in their home country. A fraction of their organisation has come to Yokohama, probably to research on us. The Port Mafia can’t afford to have other mafia’s sniffing around in our turf, so logically we need to snuff their ugly mugs out.”
Dazai bit the inside of his lips as the pain throbbed throughout his rib cage. He definitely shouldn’t of leaned back so exaggeratedly while he binded in the worst manner possible. Chuuya grit his teeth and roughly gripped the paper in hand, disagreement practically radiating from him. Kouyou frowned beside him. Mori simply grinned and nodded, without paying any attention to the contrasting opinions in the room. The boss clapped his hands together and sat straight.
“Well! There we have it! Dazai, you’re in charge of arranging our little plan. Ah, Elise, don’t draw on the walls!” The man practically disappeared, ignoring Dazai’s glare of annoyance. Kouyou stood up and sent a look of sympathy to Chuuya and Dazai. “Good day to you too. Do feel free to come to me if the work gets too exhausting.” She bowed before leaving.
The brunette grunted as he stopped leaning back on the chair, the jolt of the chair returning on the floor sending lightning through his bones. His mind had been on auto-pilot for nearly all of the briefing, like a layer of fog wrapped around his mind. Dazai didn’t rule out the possibility he was light-headed due to the compression on his chest, which made his rib cage feel like a overly blown up balloon every time he inhaled. But naturally, he would rather suffocate than ever take his bandages off. It was hell.There was only really two choices. Either suffer in the thick layers of bandages he wraps around his chest, or drown himself both figuratively and literally in the need to skin himself alive.
At least the pain of compression on his ribs were mostly enough to distract from dysphoria that ate at every curve and edge of his body. If the body he was in was his at all, and not just some skin suit he was wearing which never truly belonged to him in the first place.
Dazai closed his eyes tightly, attempting to shove away the invasive thoughts that reminded him of why he was binding in the first place. His mind was like the ocean. Random waves of dysphoria and pure self-hatred wash over his entire being unannounced, and never truly going down. It was like he was standing a foot deep on the ocean water, and his feet had merged with the sand.
It’s unstoppable. It never ends. It only makes the boy want to focus on the pain harder.
Dazai slammed his forehead down on the table, groaning exasperatedly, unintentionally gaining the attention of the other teenager in the room. The redhead crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.
“What the hell are you sulking about now? You enjoy arranging and organising stuff. As fucked up as it is.”
The reminder of Mori assigning Dazai the responsibility of preparing the infiltration did nothing but make him more irritated.The brunette decided to make no attempt to suppress his sound of disgust at the other’s voice.
“Chibi is just too dumb to plan things. Maybe if you actually contained the things that go in your teeny tiny brain, you wouldn’t be so short.”
“I’m great at planning things! And shut up about my height, you sound like a broken record!”
“Whoosh, whoosh. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of information flying righhtt past Chibi’s head.” The younger Mafioso would rather die than admit his bickering with his partner broke a ‘light’ through the fog in his mind. Perhaps the best trick to breaking out of a daze was to insult a barking dog.
Chuuya grabbed the collar of Dazai’s shirt from across the table, and dragged his face closer to his own. Chuuya’s signature look of annoyance was plastered across his face. Dazai dug his front teeth into the skin of his bottom lip, but masked it as a look of disgust (like usual).
“Why the fuck do you look like that??” The redhead’s grip loosened as confusion crossed his face. However it was so insignificant, that only someone as perspective as Dazai could of noticed it. Chuuya drew himself back to look at the other’s face properly. “Your breath stinks.” Dazai responded with a fake gag.
“Be quiet. There was something else in those ugly eyes of yours. It almost looked like you winced in your mind or something.” The shorter boy stated like fact, however a puzzled expression remained on his face.
his eyes darted around Dazai’s body as if he was analysing him. However, he knew that Chuuya wouldn’t be able to come to a correct conclusion. While the short-tempered and aggressive boy was incredibly skilled in the ability of martial arts, he was lacking in the deduction department. And Dazai planned on keeping it that way. It simply wouldn’t be fair, if his dog reached anywhere near his IQ level, after all.
“Ah, I think chibi is having hallucinations again. Either that or you’re in a serious state of denial over the fact you’re as dumb as a slug.” A forced smile of mockery made itself onto Dazai’s face.
Chuuya let go of Dazai’s collar harshly with a huff. He turned around and crossed his arms before beginning to leave to the room. “I don’t know why I have the fucking deal with you.” Was Chuuya’s last sentence before he not-so-elegantly slammed the door behind him, not bothering to check wether Dazai was behind him (which he wasn’t). ‘Seems like my dog has learnt a bit of restraint. Props to Kouyou.’ The last remaining person in the room sighed. He stood up, despite his body’s protest. It didn’t matter anyways, at least not when he was assigned an actual mission to do.
‘Port Mafia first, personal health later’. Although Dazai hated the notion, he knew better than anyone what would happen if he went against Mori’s words.
A dark and icky emotion began forming in his chest, causing his fists the clench and his eyebrows to furrow. Hatred? Is it? Dislike, maybe? Dazai scoffed at his own thoughts, squashing and stamping his emotions out like smothering a fire. Someone like him didn’t have time for clouding his mind with spite. Luckily for Dazai, emotions weren't a ‘normal occurrence’ like they are to some people. His mind began defiantly swaying back towards his body instead.
The brunette stood up, flipping through the mission briefing papers.
‘I’ll send Chuuya in first. He’ll be fine without me as long as he follows the script. Hirotsu and his little group he’s forming can attack the enemies supply unit in the meantime, while I hack into their controls. I’ll meet back up with slug afterwards.’ He forcefully swung his mind back onto the mission.
Dazai walked down the Port Mafia halls, firmly keeping his gaze on the ground. He ran equations through his head, every possible occurrence that could possibly happen on the infiltration being considered and accounted for. He made the conscious decision to ignore the voices of members who he walked past. By the time Dazai had informed the necessary people of the incoming mission, he could feel his body begin to weigh itself down. But whether it was because of tiredness or his short-breathed-ness, he wasn’t sure.
Still, he continued pacing around Port Mafia head quarters aimlessly despite the stabs of pain which shot through his ribs. He entertained himself by listening in on his co-workers playing the ‘Guess-whether-the-Demon-Prodigy-is-planning-to-murder-someone-or-annoy-Chuuya’ game. He occasionally pitched in, and caught them off guard because they thought he couldn’t hear. But as usual, the mirth didn’t last long.
“Mr Dazai.” The voice of a noble man came up to him. Dazai turned around, to face Hirotsu who was a mix of troubled and surprised. “Ah! Old man Hirotsu! Fancy seeing you here!” The brunette smiled childishly. The old man simply sighed, and repositioned his monocle to ground himself.
“Dazai, I felt I ought to inform you that Chuuya has gotten injured on his last mission-”
“Already? It’s not even been two hours since the meeting! Honestly, I know the slug is seriously lacking in the brain, but turns out he can’t even win a fight either.”
“It’s been 5 hours since you had that meeting.”
“Oh.”
Hirotsu decided to spare the boy, and merely cleared his throat as he continued speaking without saying anything.
“He was sent on a mission directly afterwards, which is why he would’ve left immediately after the briefing. According to the boss, it was a solo mission for him, and that’s why you weren’t assigned to go with him like usual. Anyways, he’s currently with the boss.” When Dazai didn’t say anything in response, Hirotsu sighed slowly. “I recommend you go see him” The elder folded his arms behind him as spoke as if he were an overworked manager.
“Eehh?? But I’m tiireedd! And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t visit him!” The younger mafioso stuck his tongue out and crossed his arms.
Dazai’s reaction was completely justifiable to him. Chuuya injuring himself was nothing but the consequence of his own idiocy and dumbness. If the short angry redhead is lacking in both IQ and his martial prowess, there was hardly any reason to keep him around. The mafia is no place for those who aren’t useful. But somehow, despite Dazai’s self-justifying, there was something in the back of his mind that thought something about the situation was strange.
Chuuya getting injured within the first 5 hours of a mission? If Chuuya really was that fragile and breakable, Dazai would never of taken interest in him in the first place. And the Demon Prodigy would never make the mistake of overestimating someone. Clearly something was wrong. Dazai crossed his arms, and mumbled something in complaint. The older man looked at his childish behaviour exasperatedly, and shook his head slowly with a slight and almost unseeable smile.
“I see. Boys will be boys, I suppose.” Hirotsu bowed in farewell, before turning around and walking away nobly. Dazai rolled his eyes “I know you’re like, hundreds of years old, but you don’t need to act really old as well!” The brunette called after him, however Hirotsu merely waved without looking back.
Dazai watched him leave, before he redirected his gaze towards the floor. ‘I have no reason to see the slug. He’s too stubborn to be bedridden for more than two days, and I really don’t want to see his ugly face.’ Dazai groaned, and looked at the ceiling in defeat. ‘I need to find out why he got injured though. It doesn’t make sense for Slug to just ‘get injured’ because of a fight. He’s not that dumb.’ Dazai began walking towards Mori’s office begrudgingly, Irritation building up within him.
‘I wonder what my dog has done this time…’