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text, late night July 3

[theartofdying]

[He doesn't text Chuuya often. Or at all, really; they mostly just sort of...orbit each other, happening to cross paths. But things are different today.

Today, Chuuya gets a text. No actual message, just a place name and an address, down in Level 3. A seedy dive bar.

There's no name attached, either, but then there doesn't need to be, does there?]

[indensity]

[No, Dazai definitely doesn’t have to say who it’s from. Chuuya knows, immediately, because the two of them have communicated this way since they were fifteen. A message like this means it’s important.

Chuuya never considers not going, but he does wonder what it’s about. It’s been a long time since they were partners, since they’ve had each other’s backs. No, that’s not right, but it’s been a long time since they’ve asked each other for help. They still sometimes work together, don’t they? They still trust each other?

They just don’t ask for it.

Chuuya shows up not long after he gets the message, orders himself a drink just so the bartender will leave him alone, and sits down next to Dazai.]

What’s going on?

[theartofdying]

[There's a glass of whiskey in front of Dazai on the counter, and it could be his first or his fifth judging by how much Dazai shows it, long-fingered hands drawing indecipherable shapes in the condensation. It's a long moment before he answers, too.

He hadn't decided until he sent that message whether or not to involve Chuuya. After all, Oda was his. Oda had gotten out, even if it was through death. Oda wasn't ever going to be part of the mafia again. And yet...Chuuya had treated him like a subordinate, and Chuuya took care of all his subordinates. Even if they weren't people he knew personally. Even if they were Dazai's.

When he finally answers, his voice is cool, a little distant. He sounds more like...himself, maybe. Like the himself Chuuya was more used to. The Dazai who was all business, in those moments it was required. The Dazai who didn't care.]

We're still upholding the truce, aren't we? Even though neither the Port Mafia nor the ADA are really here, aside from us.

[Maybe he's looking for confirmation, first. Maybe he still hasn't decided.]

[indensity]

[To be fair, Oda had never told Chuuya that he wanted to leave the mafia. If he had, he might not have cared much - after all, the guy had already died for the mafia. He deserved a retirement. He might be petty at times, but that’s usually aimed at Dazai.

And right now, it’s Dazai that concerns him. The message was strange enough, and Dazai’s behavior now has Chuuya immediately in work mode, immediately considering potential threats, both in general and immediately around them. Something is definitely going on.

It also grates a bit. If Dazai left, and changed, then he damn well better keep it up. There had to have been a point. He doesn’t like this at all. ]

Yeah. Or you’d be dead already.

[That’s not true, but it gets the point across. ]

I told Akutagawa the same. It doesn’t matter if the rest of the mafia isn’t here, it doesn’t change anything.

[Only Dazai would be that careless with his loyalties, and his sense of belonging. ]

What’s going on. Tell me.

[theartofdying]

[There was a point. There was still a point, but in times of stress, it was still easier to fall back on the comfort of familiarity. To push everything back and down, to focus on facts, to form a plan. Even if there wasn't a point. Even if he'd known this would happen, and he'd still...

The answer is also delivered in a familiar format. It makes this easier. Dazai doesn't even bother acknowledging the threat. Instead, he nods and lifts the glass to his lips, downing the rest of the whiskey, and signals the bartender for another with two raised fingers. It isn't until he's got his refill that he answers at all. And even then, it's not exactly an answer. This is still Dazai. No answer can ever just be an answer.]

How much do you know about why we're here? I'm sure they gave you the same speech I got when they found me on Iris. What else have you heard?

[indensity]

[The drinking is worrying, too. Dazai can handle it, that’s not it, but this is the kind of drinking someone does when they’re really upset, when they need to drown out the world and fast. He’s seen Dazai drink like this before, and it never ends well.

He cat he’s the bartender’s eye when he delivers the new drink, and gives a slight shake of his head. Hopefully he’ll take the hint and stop serving.]

I doubt I’ve found more than you. No matter who I question, it’s that same story. Like I’m going to believe they didn’t bring us here on purpose.

If we’re the only way they have of producing energy, of course they’d take advantage.

[He doesn’t trust them. At all. He’s not a very trusting person.]

[theartofdying]

[Maybe it is. Maybe he's drinking more than he should, but it's never been a question of whether or not he can handle it, and the alcohol adds a necessary buffer, a quiet distance between his thoughts and his feelings.

When did he start feeling? Why can't he stop? He takes another swallow of his drink, tongue catching a stray drop at the corner of his mouth as he laces his fingers around the glass.]

Whether or not it was intentional, it's definitely benefitting them. We both know that the people visibly in charge aren't always the ones calling the shots, so there's still every chance this could be intentional, but we don't know how to find the responsible party. There are a lot of variables.

What do you think happens when a person fails to produce Chroma, or loses their ability to produce it?

[indensity]

[Chuuya lifts his own glass, takes a small sip. He won't finish it. At some point, Dazai will realize he's been cut off, will realize who cut him off, and will steal Chuuya's drink to get back at him. If he doesn't have a drink to steal, he'll find a way to change the bartender's mind instead.

His drink is a necessary sacrifice, and at least it still limits Dazai's access to alcohol after this.]

They die, right? [Said bluntly, the way someone too used to death might say it - but it's still not in any way something he takes lightly.] That's what happens if you waste your Chroma too quickly, too, so unless they can find another outside source, there's no way for them to survive here.

Is someone failing to produce Chroma?

[theartofdying]

It's a possibility. I can't say it's the reason for sure, but I can't think of any other reason they would tell me he 'couldn't be located' and 'was probably returned back to his home world.'

[This drink vanishes just as quickly as the last, the ice rattling in the glass as Dazai sets it back down, a little harder than he should. Maybe a little harder than he'd intended. It's fine. It's all fine.

Enough. Focus. There's a reason he'd called Chuuya here, and Dazai shoves his hair back from his face, strands parting around the canine ears atop his head. He doesn't look at Chuuya, just eyes his empty glass like he's looking for more.]

You and I both know this place isn't what it looks like. I've been keeping my eyes and ears open, looking for more information, but I'm only one person. And if there's any way I can find out what happened--find a way to bring him back, or figure out an answer--

[There's a tension to his voice, a throbbing tautness that belies everything behind it as he slants a look at Chuuya, finally.]

Oda's dead, back home. If they 'sent him back,' they sent him back to his grave. I know you hate me, but you've always looked out for your subordinates. Help me figure this out. Find who or what's behind it all. He deserves that.

[If they had to disturb his rest, it better have been for a good reason--only no reason is going to be good enough. And if it turns out that there's something more to it, that they can bring him back for good...doesn't he owe it to Oda to try? To give him a choice, at least. Like he'd had the first time. He doesn't know if Chuuya will say yes, even for that, not after the last conversation they'd had, but he couldn't not try.]

August 2, night

[theartofdying]

[He's paid closer attention to the network since the last time. Looked for names, started checking for patterns. It's the reason why he notices so quickly; otherwise he's made a point of keeping his distance. From Akutagawa, and from Chuuya.

And yet... he'd seen Chuuya just a week ago. He'd watched, drugged and half feral, as Chuuya fought he way through an entire mob of cultists, watched Chuuya find him through the crowd, vanishing as soon as Atsushi called out Dazai's name. And he knows that there are no more Port Mafia members here, and that one of the Guild is, and that means that whatever he's feeling, whatever raw wounds their last conversation might have left, that doesn't matter.

He texts Chuuya. No words, yet again, just a picture this time. Two glasses on a dimly lit bar top: one whiskey, one red wine.]

[indensity]

[Chuuya knows Akutagawa is gone. Of course he does, he pays attention to his subordinates, and he's been doing his best to take care of Akutagawa while they're both stuck here. The Port Mafia will always have each other's backs, no matter where they are, and even if the Port Mafia technically doesn't exist.

As long as Chuuya is around, it exists.

He's not sure what to do with the fact that he's gone now. For a while he just sits in his small apartment, feeling useless, trapped, like his entire purpose has been stolen from him. There's no real point if he doesn't have someone to take care of. He sits on his unfamiliar couch, wishing he had his wine cellar, wishing he didn't have to go out to get drunk. So when Dazai texts, he just --

He goes to find him without even thinking about it.

He doesn't need to be told which bar it is. The two of them have never needed details like that. It's not too far, either, so it only takes him about ten minutes to get there. He walks in, spots Dazai, spots the glass of wine that's clearly for him, and he frowns. Why is Dazai buying him wine?

So just to be petty, he grabs Dazai's glass of whiskey instead, downing what's left of it even before he sits down.]

What do you want?

[He'll have his wine now. He does prefer a good wine.]

[theartofdying]

[He's honestly not sure if Chuuya is going to show. It's a strange feeling; he's always been sure of Chuuya, sure like he's sure about one of his own limbs, even when they weren't together.

Maybe Chuuya isn't the only one who'd always just assumed he knew what there was to know already.

He doesn't want to think about that right now, though, tells himself it's irrelevant as he finishes his first whiskey and orders a second, eyes deliberately ignoring the door, that glass. What matters is this: Akutagawa is gone, and Chuuya has never handled loss well. He won't think about that statement too hard, either.

Of course, despite not watching the door, he knows the second Chuuya enters. He knows those footsteps, he knows his scent, knows the arm that reaches between them, deliberately taking his barely-touched whiskey and downing it. It should be irritating. Instead, it's almost reassuring, as he raises a hand for another, ignoring Chuuya's question, or deliberately misunderstanding it.]

Another drink, at the moment.

[He learned from the last time. Drinks first, then they can try talking again.]

[indensity]

[Chuuya swirls the wine in his glass, slowly. It has a nice color, a deep red, and the scent is inviting. It seems like Dazai didn’t get the cheapest wine on offer, which surprised him less than he thought it would. So it’s something important he has to talk about. Chuuya isn’t sure he wants to talk.

His gaze stays focused on his glass, though his other senses are all focused on a Dazai. He cat he’s his movements out of the corner of his eye, listens for the tone of his voice, tried to get a read on him. He doesn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t have come. It’s still too raw, and now he feels even more alone.

But if they’re here to talk business, he can focus on that.]

I haven’t learned anything new. I would have told you.

[He tries the wine. It’s good. He’s had better, but still, it’s good. Dazai must have remembered that Chuuya likes fruitier wines.]

[theartofdying]

[It's actually a decent wine, all things considered, and probably close to the best a place like this has. The closest to what Chuuya would prefer. He could have chosen something cheap and terrible, might have if this weren't serious and if they'd never had that last conversation, but...it doesn't feel right. Fair. It feels like everything he'd known to be solid ground was now just carpet over quicksand.

Dazai doesn't answer right away. Instead, he downs half his glass, letting the burn linger, eyes fixed on a point on the countertop safely barren of everything before he speaks.]

I know. You told me about that Guild Member being here.

[He didn't have to do that. That was after everything, too. But this isn't about what he might have learned. It's...well, maybe he's not really sure about that, either. Just that it was necessary.]

[indensity]

[Two men, both staring at the countertop instead of at each other. It’s easier. Chuuya, at least, needs that little bit of distance the lack of eye contact offers. ]

Yeah. I don’t think he’ll try anything yet. It’s too risky, and he doesn’t have anything to gain.

[It’s no guarantee, but that’s still the impression Chuuya got. He clearly doesn’t trust the man, though.

But that’s obviously not why Dazai asked him to come here. He keeps drinking his wine, and waits for Dazai to explain. ]

[theartofdying]

[It is easier that way, but not looking doesn't mean he isn't keenly aware of Chuuya's presence. Every nerve ending in his body knows that Chuuya is right there. He can smell his scent, even through the whiskey and the smell of the bar.

Not looking doesn't help with that, or his sense memory, but it does help to maintain the illusion of distance.]

Right. It's smarter to hold off. At least until you know how this place works. And he knows we're both here.

[Not that he's worried. They'd handled this one before. It was his friend who'd been troublesome. But that's also not why he's here. He just...doesn't want to talk about it until they've both had more to drink.

He's quiet until Chuuya is done with his glass of wine, until he finishes his own, and orders fresh drinks for both of them. It isn't until they both have a new glass that he speaks again.]

...Akutagawa's name isn't in the network contacts anymore. Like the last time.

[His voice is careful. Not emotionless, just...careful.]

[indensity]

I know. He's gone.

[Dazai doesn't need the confirmation, but he'll give it anyway. Chuuya has already double checked. Akutagawa hasn't replied, isn't in his apartment, is gone. Back in Yokohama, in theory, but neither of them trust that explanation, do they?

He needs answers, but he'd already been looking for them, and he's had absolutely no luck. He's back to feeling useless again now, so he takes the new glass of wine gratefully, and drinks without even pausing to check if the wine is acceptable. It doesn't matter. He can taste the alcohol, and that's all that he cares about.

He's on his own now. He has no one on his side here.]

If he really is back in Yokohama, that's better for him. If I find out anything, I'll let you know.

[He can feel just a slight buzz, but it's not enough. He signals for a glass of whiskey for himself next.]

Was that it?

[He's not careful at all about his tone. He sounds bitter.]

11/1

[tigerpoet]

[Chuuya's mail has a copy of Goat Songs, a collection of poetry by one 'Nakahara Chuuya', and a note.]

Nakahara,

This is one of the two poetry collections the Chuuya I know put out in my world. I hope you enjoy it.

Yours,
Nakajima Atsushi

['For the Tainted Sorrow' is one of the many poems within.]

[indensity]

[He actually is a fan of poetry, but... That's strange.]

Why are you giving me this?

[tigerpoet]

If you don't want it, you can return it and I won't be offended?

[indensity]

I'm just asking why.

[tigerpoet]

If you knew that another 'you' was a writer, wouldn't you be at least a little curious?

[indensity]

He's not me. Besides, why would you want to give me anything?

[tigerpoet]

A loan then.

Thinking you might be interested isn't reason enough?

[indensity]

Sure, that works.

Usually people have more of a reason than that.