Yep. And... No, because he knows I wouldn't have told you, and you wouldn't go digging. You're already too preoccupied with your own existence to care about the origins of mine, wouldn't you think? It's not something I would want known, anyway.
(he's telling chuuya right now simply because it hardly matters here. it doesn't, really - there's no mafia. he doesn't think it will make him turn against it once they return, should they return with any memories of this place.)
[Chuuya lets out a breath, taking a seat on the ground to absorb all of this. Because this changed a lot of things. It threw everything he knew about Dazai's defection on it's head.]
The second I got back from the mission I was on during the whole mimic fiasco, I got dragged into Mori's office. He asked a lot of questions, so much I was sweating bullets 'cause I couldn't answer any of 'em. [And angry. So very, very angry and betrayed that Dazai had just up and left.]
(which is the whole point of the whole thing. he loved oda. even if oda hadn't asked him to do something different with his life, he would be completely different in the mafia from his now promise. not usable for mori whatsoever.)
[Chuuya stares at the ground for a long moment, trying to absorb it all. He understood why Mori used Oda:
"A leader develops their subordinates and places them wherever they best fit and disposes of them if necessary."
"I will gladly perform the most heinous acts for the sake of this organization. That is what it means to be a leader.
I do it all for the organization and the protection of this beloved city."
He'd done it because that was what a great leader did. But... for Dazai, he'd taken the one person he'd ever loved so deeply. Dazai had pulled the mafia to new heights with his work, and the payment he'd been given was...]
Fuck.
[It's the only word he can offer, breathed out softly beneath his breath.]
(perhaps now he gets it. all in all, he is a traitor, he turned his back from day to night, disappeared, and now he works on the other side in a way that often can conflict with mafia business.
for a good reason, even if parts of that are still hidden from chuuya as they are. maybe one day, he'll feel comfortable enough to tell chuuya what it felt like to hold odasaku in his arms, to hear his last words, and make that promise to the man who took his last breath in his arms.
[Chuuya lets out a long, low breath, then inhales deeply once again. It's a lot to process. He has time here, at least.
Maybe that's why Dazai said all of that. Because they weren't in Yokohama, and there weren't any crises going on to deal with.
The tap on his back helps, admittedly. Dazai's touch always seems to settle him, even without his ability in use. Something about the association, maybe. He's not sure.]
I'm not gonna ask why you didn't tell me any of this shit, because I'm pretty sure half this shit is treason to even know. But I do want to know: Why now?
(why would he have? what would be the point to tell chuuya then and there? here, there's no treason to commit. there's nothing chuuya can do for it, and since he already is without the mafia, well.
it's not like dazai can take his home away from him by exposing it. much easier to be an ass and not say all of that, anyway.)
You're so annoying. How are you 160cm of annoyance? Is there anything not annoying in you?
(see, however he might yap, the hand never moves away. after all this, it's good for 'no longer human' to remind chuuya that he's alright. he's safe. even if it is a bomb in the shape of a conversation.)
Ah, you made me think of painful things. The bill is on you.
I should be asking you that: How are you 181cm of annoyance? Were you just born with the desire to menace people?
[He rolls his eyes but he doesn't remove his hand either, the stability provided by Dazai more than welcome. Chuuya's self control of his ability was excellent for what his ability was, but moments like these made him want to destroy something with his bare hands, for the tainted sorrow sparking beneath his skin in response.]
(he might not really feel the abilities, the wash, pull, push, when 'no longer human' is so quiet, but he knows what's happening beneath chuuya's skin. he knows the other too much.
consider the squeezing of his small hand a quiet comfort.)
You're paying Odasaku a glass, too. You'd've liked him. Pay respects, you see?
[Usually, when Chuuya was this emotional, he could just smash something or pick a fight. Unfortunately, they actually had to behave here if they wanted the locals to work with them. It was not a limitation he often had to work with, when the mafia covered the tab for any 'incidental' property damage.
But Dazai might or might not be surprised by the ease of Chuuya's response.]
sure, sure. Anyone who could handle you deserves a drink from me, honestly.
[And unspoken is the fact that Chuuya is aware, keenly, of the comfort such little acts bring. He still visits the graves of his friends, burns incense for them, shares little tidbits about his life. Assures Albatross that he's taking good care of his bike, too.]
(that's what he's going to ask for, with a palm open, and while his face looks completely neutral, perhaps empty of thoughts and considerations, his mind races. they don't know if any of them are alive, considering the drowning attempts from left and right. would this place have the gall to bring odasaku, whose latest crime simply was having his heart broken?
[Chuuya reaches into his pocket to pull out his pack, passing one cigarette and his light over to Dazai silently. Not everything needs to be talked about right now-- especially after the weight of the conversation they'd just had. Both of them need a moment perhaps.
so Chuuya just walks along with Dazai quietly, letting the silence settle between them.]
(another squeeze of the hand is silent gratitude for the silence and for the nicotine. the way his hand fixes its position into more confidence, holding firmly, perhaps won't be for chuuya's benefit this time. maybe it is for dazai's own.
they don't have to talk. they don't need to, anyway. dazai knows chuuya's processing the truth, with the added value that it came in no indirect way from dazai himself, a man who hardly will be so upfront with the truth needlessly. meanwhile, dazai aches. he misses odasaku, and this place even took him away from the one home he could be with odasaku - where he sits, in the graveyard, eats, drinks, talks, and reminisces.
the smoke trickles from his nostrils, and he offers the stick to chuuya. two can be miserable, but often, they've been miserable together.)
[frankly, the very fact that Dazai had been upfront in and of itself said far too much about the weight of it all. Dazai had been looking for… something stupid from Chuuya today, distraction or punishment, maybe some twisted form if self-harm, and it might have been a breaking point that had led to these confessions.
He wonders how heavily things are weighing on Dazai’s mind, for a leak to spring in his emotional dam like this.
Chuuya accepts the offered cigarette and takes a drag, letting the smoke sink into his lungs before letting out a slow exhale and handing the stick back to Dazai.]
(it's just a question, in a way that takes the attention out of the tragedy he endured, and the amount of information chuuya has to process, a welcome breather as he takes the stick back to his lips. it's a valid one, too. the two of them, playing games, making stupid bets, attempting to kill each other, the shipping container, the first apartment chuuya got.
Hah! We did, you kicked him dead. We were coughing all the way to the container!
(the fucking irony. chemical dump, where a soul couldn't live, coughing over a cigarette. he's even laughing now from the memory - it felt a bit like home to him, as much as anything ever could.)
I'm saying your container wasn't conducive to plant life, let alone human. [Sorry Dazai but he is not going to hold back on his opinions here, beloved shipping container or no. He follows Dazai into the tavern at a sedate pace, letting the man lead.] What'd Oda drink, anyway?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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(he's telling chuuya right now simply because it hardly matters here. it doesn't, really - there's no mafia. he doesn't think it will make him turn against it once they return, should they return with any memories of this place.)
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The second I got back from the mission I was on during the whole mimic fiasco, I got dragged into Mori's office. He asked a lot of questions, so much I was sweating bullets 'cause I couldn't answer any of 'em. [And angry. So very, very angry and betrayed that Dazai had just up and left.]
It was all pretense? He wanted you gone?
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(which is the whole point of the whole thing. he loved oda. even if oda hadn't asked him to do something different with his life, he would be completely different in the mafia from his now promise. not usable for mori whatsoever.)
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"A leader develops their subordinates and places them wherever they best fit and disposes of them if necessary."
"I will gladly perform the most heinous acts for the sake of this organization. That is what it means to be a leader.
I do it all for the organization and the protection of this beloved city."
He'd done it because that was what a great leader did. But... for Dazai, he'd taken the one person he'd ever loved so deeply. Dazai had pulled the mafia to new heights with his work, and the payment he'd been given was...]
Fuck.
[It's the only word he can offer, breathed out softly beneath his breath.]
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for a good reason, even if parts of that are still hidden from chuuya as they are. maybe one day, he'll feel comfortable enough to tell chuuya what it felt like to hold odasaku in his arms, to hear his last words, and make that promise to the man who took his last breath in his arms.
right now, he just taps chuuya's back.)
Welcome to the truth, Chuuya.
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Maybe that's why Dazai said all of that. Because they weren't in Yokohama, and there weren't any crises going on to deal with.
The tap on his back helps, admittedly. Dazai's touch always seems to settle him, even without his ability in use. Something about the association, maybe. He's not sure.]
I'm not gonna ask why you didn't tell me any of this shit, because I'm pretty sure half this shit is treason to even know. But I do want to know: Why now?
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(why would he have? what would be the point to tell chuuya then and there? here, there's no treason to commit. there's nothing chuuya can do for it, and since he already is without the mafia, well.
it's not like dazai can take his home away from him by exposing it. much easier to be an ass and not say all of that, anyway.)
Let's go drink.
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[Well that was a short and sweet answer, but it was certainly an answer. Chuuya is slightly comforted it though, and that's what matters.
He reaches up to grab Dazai's hand, half dragging himself up and half pushing himself up in the process.]
Yeah, I think I need some wine right now. You're still not running away from me, though.
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(see, however he might yap, the hand never moves away. after all this, it's good for 'no longer human' to remind chuuya that he's alright. he's safe. even if it is a bomb in the shape of a conversation.)
Ah, you made me think of painful things. The bill is on you.
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[He rolls his eyes but he doesn't remove his hand either, the stability provided by Dazai more than welcome. Chuuya's self control of his ability was excellent for what his ability was, but moments like these made him want to destroy something with his bare hands, for the tainted sorrow sparking beneath his skin in response.]
Fine, whatever. I'll pay this time.
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(he might not really feel the abilities, the wash, pull, push, when 'no longer human' is so quiet, but he knows what's happening beneath chuuya's skin. he knows the other too much.
consider the squeezing of his small hand a quiet comfort.)
You're paying Odasaku a glass, too. You'd've liked him. Pay respects, you see?
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But Dazai might or might not be surprised by the ease of Chuuya's response.]
sure, sure. Anyone who could handle you deserves a drink from me, honestly.
[And unspoken is the fact that Chuuya is aware, keenly, of the comfort such little acts bring. He still visits the graves of his friends, burns incense for them, shares little tidbits about his life. Assures Albatross that he's taking good care of his bike, too.]
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(that's what he's going to ask for, with a palm open, and while his face looks completely neutral, perhaps empty of thoughts and considerations, his mind races. they don't know if any of them are alive, considering the drowning attempts from left and right. would this place have the gall to bring odasaku, whose latest crime simply was having his heart broken?
dazai wouldn't like that at all.)
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so Chuuya just walks along with Dazai quietly, letting the silence settle between them.]
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they don't have to talk. they don't need to, anyway. dazai knows chuuya's processing the truth, with the added value that it came in no indirect way from dazai himself, a man who hardly will be so upfront with the truth needlessly. meanwhile, dazai aches. he misses odasaku, and this place even took him away from the one home he could be with odasaku - where he sits, in the graveyard, eats, drinks, talks, and reminisces.
the smoke trickles from his nostrils, and he offers the stick to chuuya. two can be miserable, but often, they've been miserable together.)
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He wonders how heavily things are weighing on Dazai’s mind, for a leak to spring in his emotional dam like this.
Chuuya accepts the offered cigarette and takes a drag, letting the smoke sink into his lungs before letting out a slow exhale and handing the stick back to Dazai.]
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(it's just a question, in a way that takes the attention out of the tragedy he endured, and the amount of information chuuya has to process, a welcome breather as he takes the stick back to his lips. it's a valid one, too. the two of them, playing games, making stupid bets, attempting to kill each other, the shipping container, the first apartment chuuya got.
somewhat interesting times.)
Remember our first cigarette? We nearly died.
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Depends on what part of our ‘youth’ you mean. Sure as fuck don’t miss puberty.
[the intense frustration every med check in which he had not grown much.]
but yeah, i remember. Didn’t we swipe the pack off a dead guy?
[not like he’d be using it, after all.]
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(the fucking irony. chemical dump, where a soul couldn't live, coughing over a cigarette. he's even laughing now from the memory - it felt a bit like home to him, as much as anything ever could.)
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[???? someone not Chuuya would probably question how this is fair. He snorts at the mention of Dazai's... choice of accommodations, shaking his head.]
Y'know, at the time I wasn't entirely sure if it was the smokes or the sheer amount of chemical waste that was causing the coughing.
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(no, it wasn't, he's just pulling chuuya's leg, enjoying the nicotine before he passed the cigarette over.)
Surely the smokes.
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[Because tit for tat was their way, even back then. Chuuya accepts the cigarette, taking another draw before passing it back once more.]
Ha! Maybe, maybe not.
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(it was for NO ONE'S LUNGS REGARDLESS OF SIZE.
there's solely a single drag, so he finishes the cigarette to enter the tavern.)
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(a joke, certainly, before he finds a sit and stretches thin arms over his head.)
Coffee-based drinks, sometimes we would drink whiskey. Myself, Odasaku and... Ango.
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