Work Text:
— — — — —
Port Mafia is an organization that has existed for several decades, a stronghold that is deeply rooted into the city’s framework. It’s normal for such a group to amass a wealth of rumors, more exaggerated than the last.
It’s also unsurprising that the youngest Boss in its history is embroiled in so much hearsay. Dazai Osamu has already built a reputation even while he was simply the previous Boss’s young ward who occasionally appears in the headquarters’ clinic, many times overheard looking for drugs that could be mixed into a poison cocktail.
He didn’t use to hold a position amongst the mafia ranks. Not even a flimsy title of a ‘special advisor’, much less an Executive. But he’s been seen commanding several squads before, taking over as the head of mission of operation.
Then, one night, he emerges from the Boss’s quarters, clad in a black suit, footsteps and handprints a red so dark they’re the same shade as his clothes. His bloody appearance, coupled with his placid declaration that he has replaced the ‘suddenly-ill’ Boss, is more than enough to raise everyone’s eyebrows.
What raises everyone’s hackles is the fact that he isn’t alone.
Since that day, Dazai has never been spotted alone, much to the consternation of his enemies and would-be assassins. A human being without physical or magical abilities, and yet he’s become impossible to kill.
And so, the rumors begin that day—
—that Dazai Osamu, the youngest Boss in Port Mafia history, has reached this position by making a deal with the devil.
—
“This food is a lie,” this ‘devil’ says, frowning at the candy wrapper like it has personally committed innumerable sins. “It says that it’s apple flavored, but real apples don’t taste like this.”
He makes a face as he looks torn whether he should spit out the offending candy or if he should crunch it between his teeth as punishment for daring to lie to him. He peers at Dazai, the one who has a drawer in his office desk reserved for a pile of snacks. “You should stop eating these things—this could be masquerading as poison for you.”
He tilts his head in consideration. This human in front of him is very enthusiastic in waxing poetic about beautiful death this and that. Advising him against ingesting poison isn’t going to move him one bit. He adds, “A bad kind of poison. One that would take forever for you to die from. It’s going to be really painful.”
Dazai reaches out with his left hand and curves his palm over his cheek. “Let’s buy different sweets later, then.”
Chuuya stays still, even if a part of him wants to flinch against this caress. It’s been months, but he’s still always shocked by how much the other is willing to touch him directly.
After all, even if he’s currently disguised in a humanoid form, it doesn’t exactly change certain characteristics of his real body. As a dragon, every part of him, no matter how soft or fair-looking, are as hard as diamonds. Probably even harder. It should be extremely unpleasant to touch him.
“I should hunt and fill your kitchen with better ingredients,” he says with a frown.
“Mm, but if you hunt, then you’ll be leaving my side.”
That… is even more unpleasant. Just like the taste of fake apples melting in his tongue. He frowns deeper. Strangely, gratifyingly, this human in front of him manages to read his mind anyway.
“Stick your tongue out,” Dazai tells him, a command that chafes at his natural instincts to never follow anyone’s order.
From his spot, seated on the tabletop, he leans close towards the other’s chair and parts his lips. Dazai licks the candy out of his mouth, soothes away the displeasing artificial apples and replaces it with the taste of a warm human’s.
It really is strange. Before and during being sealed away, he’s never particularly enjoyed the flavor of humanity. They’re his least favorite out of all possible meals. They taste too weak, that it almost feels like a downgrade to even breathe the same air as them.
Dazai is probably the most human out of all the humans that he’s ever encountered. Also possibly the weakest one he’s ever seen. But he tastes interesting, like the void where stars are born from dust.
Like before, the moment that he’s started tasting the other, he gets swept away by the sensations. He balances on the edge of the table, fingers gripping the wood so he doesn’t fall to the urge of cradling the other’s face and neck. The last time he did so, he ended up causing several bruises and gashes over that pale skin.
Dazai keeps on ordering gloves for him, but they’re not as resistant to wear and tear as the rest of the clothes that the other has gotten for him. He has this niggling suspicion that this human actually enjoys receiving all these scrapes from his touches.
They continue kissing, something like a hungry growl rumbling from inside his ribs. To an outsider, they must look utterly drowned in each other’s presence.
That must be why several assassins emerge from the shadows, all aiming for Dazai’s head.
“Humans are really impolite,” he sighs against Dazai’s lips, reluctant to pull away.
So he doesn’t. He’s lived long enough under the mantra of doing whatever he wants, so he stays in the liplock, eyes open so he can continue to watch the shine of the other’s unblinking eyes.
Behind Chuuya’s back, there are four assassins that rush from the door. In a split-second, they are flattened against the ground, on the verge of having their bodies split-open. He doesn’t completely squash them. Not out of mercy. It’s because experience has taught him that the scent of their innards is bound to interfere with how he can smell his human.
Above them, there’s one assassin that drops from the ceiling. Chuuya lifts his right hand in an arc. He doesn’t even need to touch this impudent being. As if in fear, air scrambles out of the way of his swing, sending the assassin careening back to the ceiling.
Behind Dazai’s chair, there are three who attack from different directions. Two are taken care of by the next swing of his right hand. The last one comes closest to being in Dazai’s personal space. A few centimeters directly behind his chair, a long blade that can certainly lop off his neck in one strike.
Chuuya hisses in displeasure, especially when Dazai just looks at him with twinkling eyes, not moving to dodge away. Not even moving to breathe, like he’s been suspended in that moment, simply watching what he’s going to do next. Absolute trust and complete interest.
His eyes flash, his tail flickering between solid and ether, as it swipes against the person coveting his treasure.
…Ah.
His wings form a phantom halo over Dazai’s form, to prevent him from getting splashed by that assassin’s blood. He accidentally used too much force with his tail, his more aggressive instincts kicking in at the wrong time.
…Perhaps it’s the perfect timing.
Dazai looks at him with dark eyes, an unholy shine in them that reminds him of the demons that walk the earth, of the gods that have absconded themselves up in heaven.
One of the things that have caught his attention regarding this human is that his heartbeat and his blood pressure remain utterly low and calm, no matter the situation. All the way from their first meeting, this weak human has stared down death unflinchingly. His heart doesn’t jump the slightest bit when faced with this world’s temptations, with the underworld’s troubles.
The only circumstance in which Dazai’s heart moves away from the placid calm is when—
“Ah, I’m so jealous.”
Dazai finally stands up, so he can settle on his place between Chuuya’s legs that automatically part to make way for him. One arm hooks around his neck, uncaring about the blood-red scales that must have appeared there as his humanoid form cracks. Dazai’s other arm sweeps to the side, a gun at the end pointed at the messy remains of the assassin that got accidentally eviscerated.
“Someone else’s blood got into Chuuya’s beautiful wings,” is whispered low, but the intensity is at an all-time high. “It’s so infuriating.”
His ribs burn with dragonfire. “They’re just… wings.”
“They’re your wings,” Dazai corrects, and then bites his earlobe that has grown studded with black-red scales. “Everything of Chuuya’s belongs to me, so if I say they’re beautiful, then that’s what they are.”
It’s such a childish way of looking at things. It’s also Dazai’s unique way of looking at him.
As an ancient dragon who’s too powerful for human consciousness to process, his true form is something that could break someone’s mind should they stare too closely. Beauty and aesthetic don’t even come into picture. To everyone’s eyes, his dragon form should be a massive ball of chaos and entropy, of airy shadows and liquid wisps that could neither be understood nor grasped.
And yet, all the way from their first meeting—
—with him buried under a mountain’s worth of seals, with him existing as an undefinable beast of chaos, with him knowing only the feeling of being betrayed and used as a convenient tool of destruction before being sent away—
Dazai has always looked at him like he’s massive dark cosmos, but one that breathes life to stars, instead of something that collapses all existence. Like he’s the most interesting, most beautiful, most savage creature in the entirety of the universe.
How could he not decide to devote himself to him?
Still, he knows that this man so enjoys teasing him. “You knew you were being targeted and you didn’t even move.”
“Mm, it’s because I know Chuuya won’t let any harm come to me.” The jealousy tucks itself back inside the other’s demeanor. Dazai keeps himself snuggled close, as he sighs. “Plus, you looked so interesting, being annoyed by candy.”
“It’s really shitty candy.” Talking with the other gives him time to readjust back to his humanoid form, his scales, tail and wings dissolving back into his core.
Something that would probably terrify anyone else, Dazai cheerily asks, “Let’s go out and buy new snacks?”
“Don’t you still have some work left to do?” His gaze flicks to the side, to the assassins left in unconscious sprawls all over the office. “We should clean those up too.” He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like their smell.”
A smile full of teeth. Like an indolent cat demon that has completed his meal. “You don’t like their smell interfering with mine.”
“I don’t.” He has never been prone to deceit, after all.
“Mm, and I don’t like you dealing with them.” Honesty weaponized, in the form of the other kissing him again. “I don’t like you touching anyone or anything else but me.”
A sentiment that makes his chest squeeze against something powerful. Before he got sealed, he didn’t mind lending a helping claw to humans who prayed at his shrines. Those humans worshipped him and offered sacrifices: vintage wines, exquisite paintings, interesting books. They plied him with praises and niceties, but in the end, they used him as a weapon that they put away once they’re done with him.
On the other hand, there’s Dazai. A man with a silver tongue, but is very honest when it comes to his possessiveness over him. A shameless, straightforward admission of just how much he wants to own him and tie him by his side.
Chuuya wants to devour him whole so they’ll never, ever be apart—reciprocate those kinds of feelings with a devotion that only a dragon could provide. For now, he lets his hands be held in the other’s grasp. “You’re going to hire some cleaners?”
“Let’s shop for food and then go home early.” It’s said lightly enough, even though the word ‘home’ settles heavily in his gut, warming him from inside-out.
“Alright,” he agrees, and follows his heart.
—
coda: in the beginning
He has lost track of the passage of time. He is under five hundred layers of seals, suppressing his dragon blood and sealing his godly powers. He may be a hybrid between a god and a dragon, but none of his lineage in either direction offers him a way out of this, as it’s a series of seals that could only be undone by humans. His senses have been dulled by the monotony of his imprisonment, of his shrines dismantled in order to lessen his power.
It’s not that he has lost hope—it’s more like he hasn’t had any to begin with.
Things like regret seem so far away now. He remembers wanting to feel needed, wanting to feel like his existence has some meaning. He remembers thinking that someone who has a wealth of power should be doing their part in helping out. He remembers the taste of iron in his mouth when the worshipper who he considered as a friend has stuck a dagger into his back, nailing his most important scale in one go.
A dragon’s reverse scale is their most important possession. It’s the core of their power. As long as it remains, a dragon can regenerate from any injury. As soon as it’s compromised, a dragon is as defenseless as a twig. Most dragons kept the location of their reverse scale a secret from everyone else.
A creature of calamitous destruction like him—he thought that he was offering a gesture of good faith when he’d disclosed its location to the humans he had considered as friends.
And now, he simply exists as a chaotic ball of energy, with no solid form to speak of.
“—Ah, you are one tiny dragon.”
His senses have been long dulled, but he suddenly scents something that makes his non-existent mouth water. A mixture of blood and tainted sorrow, of snowy fields where a fox crawls closer to its death. Someone has arrived. This someone’s presence resonates with something inside him—perhaps, it’s merely because this is the first creature that has entered this domain in untold eons.
The seals placed on him can only be done by humans, can only be undone by humans. However this person has managed to find his way here, he is but a weak human who could not comprehend his presence. With him reduced to a form of chaos, the other would simply lose his mind and his soul should he approach.
He opens his mouth to warn him away. “▬►▲▬◘○◙▬▼⌂◄.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot understand the barking of a beast.” And yet, he converses like he understands the gibberish thoroughly anyway. The human’s footsteps go nearer. “Mori-san’s way of goading me to doing missions for him is getting rather boring, but… I’m glad I made a detour here.”
He repeats his warning. “▬►▲▬◘○◙▬▼⌂◄.”
“Local legend has it that a mighty dragon used to rule this land, but he got felled by humans.” Getting ever so closer, along with that tantalizing scent. “But dragons are incredibly strong, aren’t they? This particular dragon must have been stupid and was fooled.”
He snarls at that. “▬▬▬⌂◄!”
“Oh, so it’s true that you got fooled.” As if carrying a conversation with a formless entity is very normal, the other sounds undisturbed. The five hundred layers of seals require thousands of angry ghosts for energy, so the area is filled with malicious energy and corpses. And yet, this human carries on. “Ne, chibi dragon, do you think you can eat me in one go? I was interested in trying a suicide by getting eaten alive, but only if it’s painless.”
Ah, this human is even more foolish than him.
Killing this human by letting him bask in his presence is doing him a favor. Foolish, weak humans will not survive long, after all.
He sees the human stop in front of the cage that he’s trapped in. They only have a paper-thin distance separating them, but it’s a paper that separates entire worlds.
One of the human’s eyes is under a layer of bandages. But this human is quickly clawing it off, the one visible eye transfixed on him.
An idiot through and through! What if the only thing preventing him from going insane from staring at a calamitous god is the fact that he only has one eye! “▬▬○◙▬▼!!!”
“How beautiful,” the human says as soon as he has both eyes available to gaze at him. His hands are pressing against the paper-thin barrier. His unblinking stare is full of greedy possessiveness, to the point that he doesn’t even seem to notice that his fingertips are being burnt by being in contact with a pure energy source. “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”
He’s literally nothing but dark shadows right now!
“Blue eyes and red hair,” the human tells him, describing his humanoid form that he hasn’t used in eons. “Black dragonhide and blood-red scales,” he continues the description of his dragon form that hasn’t been unsealed in so long. “I could see your form clearly.”
Impossible.
“It’s because I’m tall and has a good vantage view, so I can see a lot of things.” A cheeky grin, even as dark emotions are overflowing in his wide eyes.
And beyond it all—
“If you save me, you will be dooming the entire world,” he says slowly, remembering and wielding human speech because it’s important that the other understands.
His reverse scale is already cracked, which means that he doesn’t have full control over his powers anymore. Reverting to a being that only knows how to rampage is probably what’s going to happen the moment the seal breaks.
“I’m a very empty human being,” the man in front of him admits to his loneliness. “I just think it’d be interesting to meet this legendary dragon.”
“I thought you wanted me to eat you?”
Dark, dark eyes. “Mm. But before that, I think I want to completely know you first.”
One hand presses harder against the barrier.
And Chuuya feels his heart reform inside his chest, as he reaches out and meets the other halfway.
Maybe, just maybe, he could relearn how to take care of a dragon’s treasure.
— — — — —
end