indensity | ic contact & overflow for prismatica

Barely.

[He says, even though Dazai is behind him, and he can't see how he's actually walking. He does notice the hand above his shoulder, though, and gives it a distrustful look. Dazai is going to lean on him, isn't he?

But then he doesn't, and instead he asks that. Chuuya shoves his hands in his pockets.]

Should I pick you up?

[Dazai has been gone for four years. It's not like Chuuya couldn't have needed him in that time, but apparently he's the one supposed to come running when Dazai needs him. Which is -- That's not what that question was about.

He doesn't want to talk about this, not when he'd been managing to push away his feelings again. He ducks his head, leaving him hidden by his hat.]

Let's just get to your apartment.

Mm.

[Right. His apartment. Dazai doesn't respond to the question, aside from a noncommittal noise. The silence is heavy, awkward, wants to be filled in a way it hasn't ever felt before. At least, to him. More than once, he questions this choice. But what other choice was there?

Thankfully, it's only a few more blocks to his apartment. Hopefully not long enough for Chuuya to fully change his mind. Just long enough to let that silence stretch, and he only breaks it when they're inside his apartment, shedding his coat, glad for the lack of Sanguis tail and ears for once. A low ebb in the moon, maybe. He still feels that push to claim, to fight, to win, but that he can handle at least.]

Glasses are over the sink.

[He'd promised Chuuya more drinks, hadn't he? Even if he thinks he's had enough. Or maybe not anywhere near. Hard to be sure which. In the meantime, he fetches a bottle from another cabinet, moves to sit in the living room. It's the only place with seats at all.

It's also got a very distinct reddish stain on the white carpet. Blood is tricky to get out of deep pile.]

[Chuuya goes to get the glasses, because even if drinking is a bad idea, he still needs the distraction. And this is going to be a lot easier if he's drunk. Maybe he'll pass out, and he won't have to do this.

Except that he does want answers. It's been four years, and he's wondered, tried his best to figure it out with what little clues there were. It's gnawed at him. And now Dazai might actually answer, so he can't exactly waste this chance, either. He walks over with the glasses, handing one over and holding the other out for Dazai to pour.

He notices the blood stain. His free hand goes up to touch the scar on his throat, but he forces himself to look away.]

So, talk. Tell me what happened.

[If they're doing this, he's not going to waste any time.]

[Right. Answers. He can only put the words off for so long, but he'll take what he can get, right now. Long enough to pour two glasses. Long enough to set the bottle down on the little side table, long enough to take a sip, to wish the liquor could burn more than it does.

Where does he start? I made a promise. But no, he thinks of just what Chuuya had said to him the last time--I always knew you could care, I just--and he might not know the rest of that sentence but he knows that isn't where to start. Not if he still wants Chuuya to be his ally, and definitely not if he wants...whatever it is that feels like it's been missing for years and he didn't know it.

He could make this easy. Mori miscalculated. He thought I was like him. Turns out I am, but not in the ways he wanted. But that's not the whole of it, either, is it?

The beginning, maybe. But even that...

He's overcomplicating. Time to stop.]

I finally realized that everyone was expendable to him, except for me.

[It's not an answer. Not the whole answer. He's still figuring that out, four years later, and he's never tried talking about it, not really. Not in the way that he and Chuuya seem to need, infuriatingly slow and clumsy the way nothing else is with them.]

Do you know how we met?

[Chuuya doesn't sip his own drink. Not yet. He sits on the couch, half watching Dazai, face still slightly downturned because he's still feeling too much. But he's listening. He promised he would do that much.

He immediately wants to argue, but he holds himself back. He'll save it for when Dazai's done.]

You know I don't.

[No one really does. He swirls the drink in his glass. He remembers asking Dazai once, but he didn't get an answer, just a joke. And he'd dropped it because he figured it was none of his business.]

I don't think anyone except the two of you know.

[Right. That one time. But he'd still been too close to that moment, still waiting for Mori to keep his promise, even as part of him knew it was futile. Even now it still feels too close, even though it's more than a third of his life since, and doesn't that just make it worse?

Dazai stretches his legs out, ankles crossed, fingers of both hands laced around his glass as he stares at nothing--or maybe something very, very distant.]

No, of course not. He wouldn't say, at first. People could get the wrong idea.

[He pauses, a long moment of silence, but it's not as though he's stalling. It's more like he's unburying something long left hidden.]

He found me, on the street. I thought I'd hidden myself well enough, thought I'd finally managed to find a way to die peacefully, but then--I woke up in that dingy clinic, and there he was, smiling. I cursed and shouted, I even begged him to let me go so I could try again, and he just...smiled.

He told me that if I was just going to try again, that he'd just have to keep an eye on me. And he did. The second time, and the third, and the fourth...somehow he always found me.

Until that day. He told me after he patched me up that he had a favor to ask me. Nothing too strenuous, I was still healing, after all. But if I did him this one small favor, then he'd teach me how to mix a medicine that would let me end my life quickly and painlessly. And I'd been trying for so many years...

[He seems to have forgotten the glass in his hand, voice gone dreamy and distant, and now he remembers it, pulling himself back together and roughly tossing it back, pouring another with a hand still far too steady.]

I'm sure you can guess what the favor was. And what happened after.

[The death of the old boss of the Mafia. Mori had told Chuuya that himself, with Dazai in the room. And of course, he hadn't kept his promise, had he?]

[He'd known that Dazai had wanted to kill himself for a long time. Hearing it like this though, mentioning so many attempts before he even joined the mafia - and there had been enough even after he'd joined -it hits hard. It's a different kind of pain. He still wants to know what happened to make Dazai despair so much, but he knows this isn't the time to ask.

Finally he lifts his head, actually looking at Dazai while he listens to his story. He doesn't want to miss any of his expressions now. This is too important.]

When he killed the former boss.

[In front of Dazai, making him his witness, and trapping him in mafia politics. Yeah, he'd known all about that. He'd never thought much about it, really. It had always just seemed inevitable that the two of them would end up with this sort of life, that they were made for it, that it was right.

He's starting to suspect Dazai didn't really agree.]

So Mori lied to you.

[That wasn't news, either. Mori lies. They both knew that. But Dazai isn't finished, and Chuuya is doing a good job forcing himself not to argue anything yet. It's against every instinct he's got, but maybe his instincts can sometimes be wrong.

He's never saying that out loud, that's for sure.]

[At Chuuya's correct answer he lifts his glass in a salute, something ironic and pensive in the gesture. Right. The death of the old boss. Sometimes he still dreams about that day. What he'd realized, even on that day...he'd never wanted to be a part of any of it. He'd never wanted to be a part of anything, and yet he'd known even then, hadn't he? That this wasn't an ending.

The rest, though--

He almost doesn't recognize the sound that escapes him as laughter, but there it is, quiet and sharp and almost fragile. If only it were that simple.]

Oh, no. No, he didn't lie, I'm sure. He rarely ever actually lies, you know. He shifts the truth, omits things, skews your perspective, but an outright lie would imply he hasn't already predicted your reactions. If he were forced to lie, it would mean the situation was desperate.

He didn't lie. But he also didn't specify when he'd teach me, did he? I only ever made that mistake once, but that's all he ever needed.

[He can't get lost in that, though. Can't get trapped in his own bitterness. Chuuya isn't arguing yet, but it's only a matter of time. And yet, this is part of everything, too. Part of his reason.]

It's what he does. Mori offers you the illusion of choice. You have options, but he's already weighted the situation, arranged things so there's only one real choice you can make. He's an amazing tactician, after all.

You've seen that firsthand. Choices that aren't really a choice at all. Do you think either one of us ever had a chance at not becoming part of the mafia? He knows a useful tool when he sees it.

[Tools. That's all they were. And maybe that was fine, once upon a time, and maybe he still has trouble thinking of people differently, himself, but it still chafes.]

Yeah. He used you to force my hand.

[If that's accusatory, there's no real force behind it, just a statement of fact. But Dazai was the one who made Chuuya that deal - he'd spare the Sheep if Chuuya joined. The choice had been easy, because, as Dazai just said, it wasn't really a choice at all.

But even if he knew a lot of what Dazai is saying, it's still starting to explain things, just a little. The fact that he's saying it says a lot, and his tone helps as well. Chuuya keeps watching him.

He sets his drink down, abandoning it.]

It's what makes him a good leader. It's what allows him to protect the mafia, why it's grown in strength since the day he took over.

[Disagree with him, Dazai. Argue with him. Point out what he's missing so that he can finally make sense of all of this.

This isn't because he wouldn't let Dazai kill himself, because Chuuya doubts anyone in the ADA would let him do that, either. That kid he's taken in definitely wouldn't. For that matter, Chuuya wouldn't. No, there's more there.

[Dazai doesn't answer that statement. After all, it's something they both know already. Dazai is the reason Chuuya is part of the Port Mafia. And even today he's not sure how to feel about any of that. So much of his feeling is tied up in who he was, what he was at the time...

The rest is--if not easier, then simpler, at least. It feels like a more academic debate. Like the kind of discussion Mori used to encourage. Like a lesson, and there's a strange mingled feeling of nostalgia and bitterness at the thought.]

Is it? Is that what makes a good leader? Recognizing how to use people? Seeing them as tools? Knowing how to back them into the right corner? Is that all it takes?

[Maybe he'd thought so once. Maybe he could still think that way. But somehow he doesn't think that's the only thing that matters to Chuuya. Not if he really thinks about it.]

[That's not an argument. That's a description of who Dazai used to be, or at least the kind of person everyone thought he was. And a perfect description of Mori as well. Chuuya absently twirls the hair falling over his shoulder, head tilted slightly, needing to word this right.

Yes, he wants to say. Yes, that's what makes a good leader.]

A good leader will use any means necessary to keep his subordinates safe.

[He releases his hair again, lets it bounce back to its original shape.]

It's what I was missing. [He's never told Dazai that. Never mentioned that conversation he and Mori had to anyone.] It's why I failed as a leader. Try to be friends with your subordinates all you want, but they'll still never see you that way, not when you're the one holding all the power.

A good leader will use their subordinates. A good leader knows their strengths, what they're capable of. That's what lets them know they're valuable. I never gave the Sheep that, which is why they thought I'd be so willing to just throw them aside.

And a good leader gets their hands dirty. A good leader makes the difficult decisions. Because protecting the mafia comes first, always. And yeah, sometimes that means forcing someone's hand.

The Boss doesn't take any of it lightly. And neither do I.

But that's not his goal, Chuuya. His goal has never been to keep his subordinates safe. Lives don't matter, except in the form of currency.

[Trying to find the words for this is difficult. Trying to find words that don't make him feel like a hypocrite is impossible. He does his best to ignore the swirling discomfort in his stomach, the feeling that always comes from talking about things that feel too genuine, things that hit too close to home. He fights the urge to dissemble, to redirect. For the first time...ever, maybe, he thinks, they're talking. They're talking, and they're both trying to actually communicate. He needs to try.]

An efficient leader knows how to use their subordinates. How to leverage them against each other. How to play their strengths and weaknesses off each other. How to play their personalities. All use does is make them feel useful. That's not the same thing as valued, not unless you've very carefully framed how use is to be perceived.

[And Mori had always been so very careful, hadn't he?]

We've always been taught that one is the same as the other. But they aren't the same at all. Mori is good at what he does. But you're wrong about his goals. His first priority is not protecting the mafia. His first priority is establishing his own vision of order. Everyone else--they're only a means to an end. They aren't the goal.

[He's too drunk for this. Or not drunk enough. He's angry, and trying to ignore it, because he wants to hear what Dazai has to say. But at the same time --]

-- Coming from you?

[He has to say it, at least once. Dazai is more similar to Mori than he is, and still he's trying to call him out for behavior that he used to imitate.]

I guess you never said that lives don't matter, just that life doesn't.

[He slides his hand around to rub at the back of his neck. He'd thought this conversation would be about Dazai.]

The mafia is part of his vision of order. He considers himself a slave to the mafia, so I don't know where you're getting the idea that he doesn't prioritize it. Because sometimes, some people die?

[It isn't behavior he used to imitate. Or--not exactly. A similarity that Mori saw, the same disconnect from the world, a disregard for life, a lack of empathy--same symptoms, different disease. He was never like Mori. He could have been, with enough time, enough damage to the parts of him that only now are showing any signs of life at all--but he's not.

Still. What Chuuya says isn't all wrong, either, even if it's petty. Dazai doesn't flinch, just shakes his head.]

He presents himself like that because it's what he needs to be for them to follow him. He's painted himself into the role. But he has an exit. He'll always have an exit. How can you say anyone is ever anything if they're always ready to leave? After all, I would know, wouldn't I?

[The words are a little harsher than they should be, but they aren't directed at Chuuya. It's that bitter resentment that's only ever been aimed at himself.

Sometimes people die, Chuuya says, and that...Sparks something. Some small flare of heat in his eyes as Dazai looks up at him. Something that flares...then flickers and dies.]

...You're right. Sometimes people die. And sometimes it's even because they want to.

[He takes a long swallow from the bottle Chuuya has pushed aside, trying to somehow make the words feel less like glass. It doesn't help.]

I'm not a complete idiot. What he did wasn't only because of Mori. It wasn't because of Mori at all, really. Mori just saw an opportunity to tie up his loose ends, and he took it. He made his own choice. Chose his own fate. And Mori used it, and threw it away. And I realized that's all that was waiting for any of us. That none of it mattered to him, not any of those nights, none of the feeling. And I realized it had started to matter to me. People had started to matter. And if I stayed, if I hadn't left his office then--

[Then he would have ended up like Mori after all. Then nothing would have mattered. It wouldn't have hurt, but he would never have had...It doesn't matter. It won't. Not to Chuuya.]

[Chuuya isn't sure how to respond, and for several moments he doesn't. He's so angry. There's more to it than that, but the anger is easier, so no matter how hard he's tried to stay calm and listen, now he clings to it. It still doesn't add up.]

Couldn't you have just left it at that? You gave a shit about him, and you mourned him, and you ran.

[He turns his face away again. He feels heavy.]

So we know him differently. He's always talked to me about the importance of caring, about the city, about the mafia. But you have to care about it as a whole, instead of worrying about individuals, because it's the only way to protect them all.

It's a shitty job.

[The anger is building in his voice, too. It's probably familiar to Dazai. It's not like they've ever really talked to each other in any other way, so maybe it's better, just to let it out.]

And even if what you're saying is true - That means that when you left, you were screwing us all over and you knew it.

Weren't you listening? He just tells you what you need to hear, Chuuya. He's always just told people what they need to hear, or guide them to the conclusions he wants them to have. It makes him a good tactician. It makes him good at planning. It doesn't mean he gives a damn about anyone beyond the function they serve--

[He's doing a terrible job of this. He knows it. He's missing whatever point Chuuya is trying to make, isn't understanding how he's coming to a conclusion like that. Of course he didn't think he was screwing anyone over. How could he? Sure, he was intelligent, he'd been successful beyond Mori's wildest dreams in multiple endeavors. A large part of the Port Mafia's money and influence was due to him, and him alone. It wasn't bragging to say that. But he'd never acted against the Port Mafia, or any of its members, in all the time he'd been away. He'd never hurt any of them. In fact, he'd helped in his own way to keep everyone alive.

So why? Why would he say that??]

You were fine without me. You all were. You had your position, and he wouldn't use Corruption without me there to counter it. Akutagawa--

[Was better off without him there. Was better without him, and that's its own bucket of worms he's still discovering, a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.]

...Gin, all of you. You were better off without me.

[They were. They all were. So why do the words feel hollow?]

[The anger is bubbling, boiling, and it's harder and harder not to just turn this into a fight. He could punch Dazai in the face, except -- Except it shouldn't matter, none of this should matter, none of this is new.]

If he's as bad as you say he is, you screwed us over. You abandoned all of them.

[Does Dazai really not get it? But of course he doesn't, because he's never understood the concept of responsibility. Dazai gets away with anything, smiles and makes a joke and leaves the mess for everyone else to deal with.

He'd just been hoping for something different, like an idiot.]

But the boss has given me more reason to trust him than you ever have.

[Except that's not how it works, either. He always trusted Dazai, in spite of everything. Giving in, he grabs the bottle - screw just drinking from a glass - and takes a long swig from it.]

You chose them. Just say it. Don't be a coward, for once.

I didn't choose anyone! I left. I was on my own for two years after.

[He isn't sure why those words are the ones that scrape his raw edges. Why it's that in particular that bothers him, the idea that Chuuya thought Dazai left the mafia for the ADA in particular. He was lucky to find them. Lucky that the chief had thought of them. He'd thought he was just finding a better cause to die for, but that wasn't it at all, was it? Oda hadn't told him to die for good, to die doing the right thing. He'd said to do good.

Dazai makes no effort to stop Chuuya from taking the bottle. He's had enough. He just sits, fingers still against his knees.]

It's ironic, really. If I stayed, I would be dead. I'd be dead, or all of you would be. Or both. And I didn't want it. So maybe I am a coward.

[There's a wave of sadness that washes over him all of a sudden, a bone-deep exhaustion. How can he even try to explain? How can he tell Chuuya something he doesn't even know how to say himself?]

If you don't have a reason to trust me, why are you here?

[Why are either of them here? His voice is low, a murmur, and his eyes find that stain on the carpet again. There's a scar on Chuuya's throat, and a stain on his carpet, and a lifetime of memories he apparently never really got the way he was supposed to. What else is there? Is it any wonder Chuuya doesn't trust him? He's never given him a reason. Any of them.]

Because I--

[Why is he here? Is there a point to being here, to listening to Dazai's explanations - explanations which are more accusations, pointing the finger at anyone but himself. It's typical. Chuuya can't even tell if Dazai is trying to turn him against the boss, or if there's some other reason for all of this.

He keeps drinking. He doesn't care if he'll pass out.]

Because you asked, asshole. I was always going to show up if you asked.

[No, no. No, he needs to stop drinking again. He puts the bottle down, gets up, then immediately falls back down again. He's dizzy now.]

So you didn't choose them over us back then. You chose to leave us. Same thing. You could have --

I would have helped.

[Cautiously, he tries to push himself back up another time. He scrunches up his face as he forces gravity to obey, or tries to.]

Did I ever not come when you asked?

[Did he ever not? Did he? He was there without Dazai calling, half the time, there whether Dazai wanted him to be or not, and he'd always assumed it was because of Mori.

And now, a different thought occurs to him, one he doesn't want to think. One he can't. Why would he? It doesn't make sense at all.

Dazai doesn't move as Chuuya falls, doesn't move as he climbs to his feet and forces gravity to give way before him. He's leaving. That's--he should.

He shouldn't try to keep him here.

He doesn't look.]

Would you? Would you have, really? You've already said your loyalty is to him. If I'd asked you to come with me, you would have said no. If he'd told you to take care of me, you would have. And I would have let you.

[He says the words like they're a decided outcome. He says them like he's sure, because he is. Because he has to be.

Because if he isn't, he's not sure he can stand to know that.

Chuuya's right. He is a coward.]

[He's still standing unsteadily, because it's getting harder and harder to focus, and Dazai's words are taking up all of his attention. Gravity will just have to wait. He leans forward like he wants to grab onto the table, but it's too low, and he ends up standing there, half bent over, glancing back at Dazai.

Though he doesn't immediately say anything.

Those words hurt, but that's nothing new. It sounds like Dazai has already made up his mind about everything that would happen, everything that Chuuya would have done. Clearly he knows it better than Chuuya himself, so what's the point in even having a conversation? He frowns some more.]

I would never do that.

[Especially if Dazai would have let him. It always pissed him off when Dazai tried to kill himself, so suicide by Chuuya wouldn't make him react any differently.]

I would have helped.

[He's repeating himself now. He takes a small, unsteady step sideways, trying to work his way out from between the couch and the table. He's pretty sure he won't make it far.]

Even if he gave you an order? After all, didn't you say your loyalty was to him?

[The words hurt. They hurt to say in a way he doesn't expect, and yet he doesn't stop them. Some part of him relishes the pain, even now. At least he can feel something. Something is better than nothing, and nothing would have been what he'd ended up with.

Chuuya takes that unsteady step, and Dazai reacts before he can think about it, reaching out to keep him from falling over. Probably a mistake, given that Chuuya's tenuous grasp on gravity is probably the only thing keeping him upright at this point, but the liquor is thick enough in his mind that his reaction time is slowed.]

Careful--

He wouldn't--

[He stops himself, because if it was necessary, of course Mori would. But Chuuya doesn't want to think about it. This is his partner, and turning on him would feel like a betrayal, an unforgivable one, no matter the reason. If Dazai attacked first it would be different, but he hadn't. Wouldn't. Probably.

He's too drunk and not drunk enough. He actually starts to reach for the bottle again, except Dazai reaches for him, and he forgets which direction the floor is.

He sways there for a moment.

And then he's falling backwards, landing heavily on top of Dazai.]

[Mori would. They both know that. They both know that he could arrange things, would have done it in a way that Chuuya would have had no choice. Isn't that the point of all of this? All of his talking?

Mori would have, but Dazai--he hadn't, and wouldn't. Chuuya can think what he likes about Dazai, but that at least is true.

Not that he's got time to think about any of that, not really, as Chuuya sways and then topples directly on top of him, Dazai's breath leaving him in a wheezed grunt of air. He stays there, trying to breathe again, arms wrapped around Chuuya out of surprise as much as anything else.]

--Heavy...

[How is someone so small so heavy???? Ugh.]

[He wouldn't have. Mori could try to arrange it however he wanted, but he wouldn't. Not unless Mori got Dazai to attack. And that's not something he could trick Chuuya into thinking was happening, because he did know his partner. He did. It wouldn't work.

He'd argue that point for days.

Except the argument has been cut short. He squirms a bit for a moment, but he can't find his balance to get back up, and Dazai is holding him.]

I'm not!

[Stop insulting him. He tries to elbow him for that, but misses.]

ic contact & overflow for prismatica

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cw all of Dazai's stuff here on out

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