Chapter Text
“I will fucking murder you, you waste of bandages!”
If the street wasn’t deserted, all anyone would see were the blurry silhouettes of two teenagers zooming past underneath the yellow glow of the street lamps. The one up front, a skinny thing with a mess of black hair wearing a coat several sizes too large and covered in bandages, was racing down the asphalt as another boy, shorter with ginger hair and wearing a leather jacket, was gaining on him rather quickly while holding onto his hat with one hand. A strangely fancy hat for a boy who looked like he had only recently graduated from middle school.
“Yah, Chuuya”, the aforementioned waste of bandages moaned, hands on his wobbly knees, “Such a waste of energy.”
Chuuya, now in front of him and unmistakably seething with anger, kicked him in the shin. A theatrical whine escaped the brunette’s mouth.
“You sabotaged my fucking mission.”
“Did not.”
Chuuya’s foot came down hard on the pavement, making an indent. If anyone had been around to observe this, they might have been quite confused.
“Then pray tell, why was my informant fucking dead on the ground at the meeting point? Nobody was supposed to know about this.”
Dazai shrugged, a smirk gracing his boyish features while his eyes remained cold.
“Who says I did that? Quite the presumption to make! Bad dog!”
Chuuya growled, unaware of the fact that he did sound like a dog.
“Of course it was you. It had ‘Dazai’ written all over it! You can’t fool me, you piece of shit.”
At this point, the two of them had, strangely enough, started making their way down the street together side by side, Chuuya gesticulating in a furious, though more subdued manner, as Dazai quietly whistled to himself.
The younger of the two never did explain himself to Chuuya, and he didn’t have to, as when they came across the familiar door to the arcade, Chuuya’s eyes lit up.
“You know what? I’ll get my revenge. Let’s play a few rounds.”
Dazai, who had obviously planned this, just nodded his head and picked the lock. The two of them made easy work of turning on the lights and the machines and placed themselves down in front of their favorite fighting game. While it loaded up, Dazai’s eyes strayed around the room.
The arcade was a gaudy place, really. The floor consisted of an awfully patterned carpet littered with suspicious stains, and the wallpaper was way too colorful and had started peeling off in places. Yet, the machines were in good shape and usually at least somewhat clean and that was the most important part. They even had a slushie machine! So even though it smelled like sweat and stale popcorn and the lights were both too bright and too dim at the same time, Dazai liked it here.
“You know”, Dazai said, an excited glint now appearing in his normally dead eyes, “It’s almost admirable the way Chibi has never won a single game against me but he still tries! Such a tenacious doggy.”
The glare Chuuya leveled him with in reply would have been able to send even grown adults running for the hills, but Dazai just laughed.
As soon as he had laid eyes upon Chuuya, the very first time they had met in Suribachi a few months ago, he had known that he was different. He hadn’t quite known how but Chuuya had managed to make him feel like a kid for once. He got him fired up, made him want to win stupid bets and chase the other around. He was passionate, fiery and all too loyal, much like a yapping chihuahua, and Dazai reveled in it. Someone he couldn’t predict, for once. Someone who brought some…fun into his life of bleak darkness and endless mental torture. And when he found out Chuuya was harboring Arahabiki, well, he could honestly say he had been surprised.
To Dazai, who had only been genuinely surprised maybe three times in his life, that was a big deal. It made him want to live a little longer, see what other things might not be as simple and boring as he thought they were. All thanks to Chuuya.
So, he wouldn’t deny that Chuuya was interesting. He was interesting and so, so fun to mess with. His reactions never failed to amuse him and Dazai had quickly figured out just how to rile him up. Oh, and he was competitive as all hell, but sadly not anywhere near Dazai’s skill level. Not that that stopped him from trying.
They played several rounds and, to no one's surprise, it went no differently than any other time. Chuuya chose the wrestler character and mashed the buttons in quick succession with an aggression inappropriate for the situation while Dazai, with his school girl character, defended against every move while sneakily landing hits on his opponent. The almost eerie silence of the arcade was interrupted by enraged yelling and soft snickers as the boys played game after game. All of which Chuuya lost.
“You’re rigging this.”
Dazai raised an eyebrow. Or, he must have raised an eyebrow, as the bandaged part of his face twitched upwards.
“And how do you suppose I’m doing that?”
Frustrated, Chuuya kicked at the machine, putting his hands back in his jacket pockets. The two continued to bicker mindlessly as they went about making sure to remove any evidence of their presence, turning the lights off and deleting the security footage, before exiting the building. By now it was four in the morning and dawn was slowly streaking the sky with color.
They would have to part ways now to go to their separate homes, if Dazai could call that shipping container of his a home, but just before they could wordlessly turn away from each other, Dazai spoke.
“It was a trap, by the way.”
Chuuya narrowed his eyes at him, his blue eye reflecting some of the purple morning light.
“What?”
“The informant. It was a trap. You’re welcome.”
And with that, Dazai took off strolling down the street, leaving Chuuya behind to gape like a fish all by himself.