Chapter Text
There’s a sharp ringing sound in his ear, piercing through the haze of his cotton-addled mind as Dazai wakes up. The lights above him are too bright and the room is spinning a little. It is honestly giving him a headache and he wants nothing more than to shoot the ceiling lights down but the damage Kunikida will probably give him for it is an even bigger potential headache for the future. He throws his arm across his eyes and groans audibly. His mouth is dry as the Sahara and he can taste bile on the back of his throat. Gross.
He’s… on the ground? That explains the pins and needles running up his back and side. He might have gotten black out drunk the night before and passed out on his living room floor before he could do anything else. It’s the weekend, what else was he supposed to do? Take it easy? Nothing is ever easy. Not for Dazai.
It’s, what, noon? A bit after? He doesn’t know and the light from his phone will probably exacerbate his hangover so he asks his google assistant to do it instead.
His phone rings loudly across the space, a blaring sound that Dazai has been too lazy to change because what’s the point?
“What?” Dazai snaps as he answers the phone.
“Whew. Someone is a bit of a grouch this morning. What’s wrong lil kitty? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” the voice on the other side teases.
He didn’t wake up in a bed. Period. But he would rather shoot himself on both feet than tell Ranpo that.
“I’m hanging up.”
“No, no! Geez. You would think a guy who spent the night partying on some rich kid’s yacht could take a joke.”
He did what? Was that where he was last night?
“Anyway, you might want to come in tonight. We got something for ya.”
Dazai straightens up a little, wary of the vagueness of it all. “Got what?”
He can almost see the smirk on the fox-eyed detective as he toys with his words. “You’ll see. You’ll like this one.”
Without another word, the detective hangs up on him and Dazai slumps back onto his bed with a sigh. Great, more work even on his day off. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunching shut as he tries to get himself together.
He needs to get off this floor and up to the office and he needs time to put that mask of his on because it needs to be seamless.
There’s a goddamn middle aged American sitting in his office and Dazai can’t, for the life of him, figure out why.
“Who are you again?” Dazai switches to english seamslessly.
“Arthur Miller, sir,” he says, taking his hat off and making a dramatic bow.
“And why are you in my office.”
The American, Miller, can’t seem to find an answer and he’s sweating profusely. Thankfully, Ranpo comes to his rescue, strolling in confidently before plopping onto the brunette’s desk with a smile.
“He’s here because the boss requested his services and he was able to give us quite the gift.”
“A gift?” Dazai inquires cautiously. None of Ranpo’s ‘gifts’ are ever fun.
“Yep!”
The emerald-eyed detective looks at the older man expectantly and at the sudden realisation that it’s his cue, he tenses.
“Oh, uhm. Right this way sir.”
Miller leads them to… the infirmary? He hasn’t really been to the infirmary since…
Dazai’s hand subconsciously reaches for the band of leather around his arm. He doesn’t know why but something in his gut tells him that whatever is behind that door is probably not going to be fun. Is the only way for him to explain it.
Or maybe it is just the ghost of his hangover running its course. Who knows at this point.
And as the door opens to the infirmary and well, his gut is right. The instinct one, I mean.
Because sitting on one of the infirmary beds talking animatedly and… is he flirting with his boss? Is none other than Nakahara Chuuya.
“What is going on?” he demands.
“Ah, Dazai. Glad you could join us,” Yosano says sweetly. “Chuuya here is just telling me about this amazing restaurant by the port side. We should all go together some time.”
Dazai rolls his eyes at the idea because the ADA doesn’t ‘go together’ to normal restaurants surrounded by civilians.
“Yeah. We went there after missions a while back. Remember, Dazai?” Chuuya says casually.
Dazai tenses. The only mission he has ever been on with Chuuya was that one a while back when they fought Lovecraft and he killed Q. Not to mention Chuuya doesn’t really go to the port side. That area is ADA territory and the Sheep have always been instructed to keep clear of that region.
“Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on?” Dazai pressed.
Yosano’s eyes darken, her expression hardening as she glares at the brunette. Dazai understands that she wants him to play along with whatever bullshit she has going on here but this pushes the brunette’s buttons far too much for him to care.
“Ranpo. Why don’t you and Dazai accompany Mr. Miller out? Maybe get some air while you are at it. Looks like someone partied far too hard last night,” she says with a sharp edge to her voice.
Ranpo loops his arm around Dazai’s and pulls him out of the infirmary. “You’re alright buddy. It’s fine.” He pats Dazai’s hair chastising and they escort their guest out.
“Ranpo. Explain. Now,” he demands as they leave.
“You’re not the boss of me,” Ranpo says, blowing raspberries at the other.
That is true. They both hold executive positions. If anything, Ranpo, as his senior, should be treated with more respect but Dazai’s head is still pounding and his patience is wearing thin fast.
He takes his gun out of his holster and aims it at the vending machine in the corner. Ranpo’s favourite one.
“Wait wait wait! Ok, fine. I’ll talk. Now, put the gun down. God.”
Dazai lowers his gun incrementally, pressuring the dark-haired detective to speak.
“Miller’s ability helps him alter memories,” he starts.
“I’ve gathered that.”
“More specifically, ‘Death of a Salesman’ helps him merge memories between alternate universes.”
Admittedly, it takes Dazai a while to grasp his meaning. “Alternate what?”
“You know… multi-verses and all that. You studied ‘The Book’. I’m sure you understand how it works.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, in this universe, your Chuuya,” and Dazai flinches at the wording “is a goody-two-shoes doctor in training. In another, he’s apparently a pretty badass mafia executive.”
Dazai scoffs at the explanation. It’s not so much that he doesn’t believe Chuuya is capable of it, the man used to be the King of Sheep for heaven's sake. But more so that when Ranpo says badass, it came from a really condescending tacky place.
“And what? He replaces the memories from one Chuuya with another?” he says sarcastically.
“Exactly,” Ranpo sings. “So this Chuuya has been in the mafia since he was 15! Isn’t that amazing.”
Yes. Amazingly disastrous. Especially for Dazai. But Dazai has his answer and a deal is a deal so he puts his gun back in his holster.
“And why on earth would you want to do that?”
Ranpo’s smile drops for a moment. He is very rarely serious but when he is, it means trouble. Not just for him but for the whole city.
“You’ll have to speak with Yosano for that. For now, all you have to know is that this Chuuya is a bit… different. And you’re his handler.”
“I’m what?”
“You heard me. Well, on his end, you’re his partner. Make sure he doesn’t get his memories back until the mission is over.”
“Or else what?” he muses.
“Or else we won’t have a city to come back to,” Ranpo says forebodingly.
Dazai turns his head to the ceiling. God this job is so fucking exhausting.
“This is what you wanted isn’t it?” Ranpo questions him with a smirk. “To finally work on the same side as your childhood friend. We made your wildest dream come true! You’re partners now!”
Dazai narrows his eyes at the green-eyed detective.
“No. It isn’t.”
Not like this.
“Well, either way, what is done is done. Just play along. You don’t want to get on Fukuzawa-sama’s bad side do you?”
Dazai lets out a long sigh. No he doesn’t. Fukuzawa might be a benevolent leader to them, a father-figure to most of them, but he was stern. He will not tolerate disobedience, especially not from him who has crossed far many lines in the past.
“You couldn’t have played along for one moment could you?” Yosano chastises as she circles him like a shark.
She’s annoyed, not pissed. An important distinction to make when you are face-to-face with the boss of the ADA. He is kneeling on the floor of her office, as he often finds himself nowadays, and hopes she will have mercy on him because his head is still pounding.
“I apologise. I may have overreacted,” Dazai responds calmly.
Seemingly satisfied with his acquiescence, Yosano steps closer to him, kneeling in front of him until she is at his eye level. She grabs his chin in her hand and thumbs as his jaw admiringly.
“He’s a pretty one, I’ll give you that,” she says. There’s a dangerous hunger in her voice.
“Unfortunately, my lady, he doesn’t really swing that way.”
She lets out an amused huff. She knows the redhead isn’t attracted to her. Doesn’t mean she can’t admire him like the work of art he is.
“Don’t get cheeky on me Dazai. I’m still annoyed at you.”
“I’m just merely looking out for you, my lady. Don’t want something so small hurting you.”
Yosano’s hands climb higher, running her hand through Dazai’s locks and raking her nails at his scalp as she admires just how brown they are and how they shine almost carmine in the light.
“I’m guessing Ranpo told you that you will be partnered up with him?” she says, still playing with his hair.
Dazai nods slightly, as to not dislodge her hand from his hair.
“And you’re probably wondering why?”
He cautions another slight nod.
“Remember the conversation we had?”
Another small nod.
“We have a C. diff on our hands.”
In other words, they have an enemy closing in, big enough that it could take the city down with it.
“How does a mafia version of lil red play into that?” he asks cautiously.
“You’ll see,” she drawls.
She stands up and straightens herself, dusting herself off before walking back to her desk.
“We need him if we want to keep this city in balance.” she turns to him and points a perfectly painted nail at him. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I mean it Dazai. Mess this up and we’re all done.”
He turns quiet at the warning. She has always been a serious woman but in this moment, Dazai can tell that something is brewing, something that is making Yosano nervous. And if the boss of the ADA is nervous, you have every right to be as well.
“How is this going to work?” he asks instead. “Won’t my ability cancel out his?”
A large cuff gets thrown in his direction and he catches it. An ability dampener.
“Keep your hands to yourself and keep that on you at all times. Miller’s ability causes marks to appear on the affected person based on the alternate memories it takes on. Stay clear of that and we should be fine. Got it?”
Dazai affirms and places the cuff on his arm, showing it to her before he leaves. Outside her office, he takes a deep breath, a rough inhale and a long exhale.
This is going to get messy. First, he has to find out what Chuuya knows. Being hungover is a good excuse to probe Chuuya about what is in those new memories of his. Then, he is going to somehow have to control this new Chuuya, which is tricky considering he has never been able to control the old Chuuya. And he has to do all that on top of his normal duties and without tipping the redhead off that something is wrong. Great.
He hates that he has to do this, hates that he is put in this position. But if he doesn’t, none of that will matter. In fact, none of the things he has done for the last 5 years will matter.
So he trudges back down to the infirmary, hands sweating nervously as he approaches the door. He stills for a while, knuckles hovering against the door before he enters.
He reminds himself that the Chuuya in that infirmary is not his Chuuya. In fact, Chuuya is not his. This Chuuya is a stranger. An asset. A pawn in the grander scheme of things, not too different from the way he has to deal with his own men.
That’s right, Chuuya is just another one of his subordinates. So with a deep breath, he knocks on the door and pushes it open. Let the show begin.