Things Protected and Things Gained
soâŠ. this is a merge of Day 4 ChuuAku week prompt and Day 6 becauseâŠschool. but i really wanted to write this so i hope everyone enjoys it.Â
[ChuuAku Week - Day 4: Protect/MIssions + Day 6: AU/Canon Divergent/Role Reversal]
It had been over an hour and Chuuya was freezing. A small dent beginning to deepen in the large chopped tree trunk. Mossy green smearing along the deep browns of the bark. Jet ash appearing beneath each grind of his shoe into the surroundings. Deeper and deeper and deeper.
Chuuya had been sent out to finish the arrangement with the smaller gang that had claimed this part of the slums their turf. Shipments meant to solidify their ties to the Port Mafia, a joke by shitty Dazai to his new dog Chuuya to finalize the merger; that this could have been an option for the Sheep had Chuuya not failed.
âShitty-â Chuuya stomps hard, foot crushing three inches of bark.
âFucking-â another two inches.
The trunk shatters beneath Chuuyaâs anger as unsteady footsteps shuffle through the late fall leaves. Aegean steel orbs snap up at the sound to watch six thugs panting as they stand before him. One shaking in the back at the random display of strength from Chuuya.
âWhat took you so long?â Chuuya shifts, crossing his arms and feet spread. The stance only making him appear shorter, pulling his jackets tighter around his frame. Shoulder thin but strong beneath the ruby cotton and black leather.
The leader steps forward, smirk high as he gestures to a bow. Chuuyaâs frown deepens.
âWe ran into a little trouble.â The apparent second in command snickers at the jab. Chuuyaâs toe taps hard enough to make the earth rumble. The leader seems unphased, eyes only widening and continuing in disbelief.
âThe details of the shipment and its passage were slipped to some runts, but they have been taken care of.â
Chuyaâs blood runs cold. A ripple of fear and anger shivering up every vertebrate in his spine.
âYou took care of children?â His voice drops low, ground beginning to tremble with his anger.
Everyone but the leader begins to look around confused, scared. Good.
âKilled them. We had to, they would fucking rat out for a scrap of-â He doesnât finish, Chuuyaâs heel connecting with his jaw hard enough the shattering of bone echoes in the small, moonlit glen. The soft light drifting behind a dark stormcloud that nearly sends the forest into pitch black.
None of their screams are heard. Lost and trapped by the towering maples. Blood staining the auburn leaves a deep crimson, the grass beneath the broken bodies seeped in their death as the earth nearly swallows the remnants of their corpses.
The rage only ends when Chuuya hears a quick pattering of small footfalls, wheezing and heavy pants breaking through the following silence. Ivory streams of moonlight trickle back through the cherry leaves still clinging to the branches. The tangerine curls around his neck shimmering against Chuuyaâs pallid skin as his sapphire eyes brighten at the presence of another.
A boy about his height; jet black hair matted with sweat, blood, and grime from daysâŠweeks spent in this squalor. The rags covering his ashen skin hung loosely over bony shoulders, stained with the dirt of the slums and the deep red of dried blood hugging his ribs. A boy from the slum, a cookie cutter of the dozens of orphans abandoned like trash. But something about him caught Chuuyaâs attention; many things.
The ends of his bangs longer in the front to frame his face were dipped white. The purity of the color hidden by dirt and dried blood. The beige scarf around his throat, the deep coughs leaving his lips making the small knife fashioned from the cloth vibrate at his shoulder. The edge sharp enough to cut the throat of a man and already dripping in scarlet. And the deep void in his stone gray eyes; the feeling of loss, anger, rage. Similar to what Chuuya had felt weeks prior at his betrayal of the Sheep.
âWhere-â the boy stutters to speak through his coughs. Chuuya waiting to see what he has to say.
Chuuya moves to gesture to the shallow graves he had stomped the men into. âYou mean them?â
The boyâs eyes finally shift as the coughing subsides. The void slipping back to allow the granite irises to shine through. A gasp leaving his lips before more coughing breaks through. Chuuya steps forward, shoes squelching from the blood that had coagulated beneath his soles. Boyâs scarf crackling with energy as it grows, his frail body trembling.
âWhy?â the voice that leaves soundsâŠbroken. A sadness and anger caught in his parched throat that was unfamiliar to the tone.
âIâm guessing they killed your friends and you wanted revenge. Oi, come here. Youâre fucking trembling. I wonât hurt you.â Chuuya softens his tone.
He looked barely younger than him, perhaps two years at most. Their height nearly the same, the boy could be taller if he straightened his spine.
âYou have a name?â Chuuya asks in the silence.
âYouâŠkilled them?â The boyâs coughing subsides enough for speech.
âYa, they said they killed some kids and Iâm not ok with that. Merger or not.â
Mori would probably be upset, but Chuuya would rather suffer punishment than knowing the Port Mafia allied with child killers. His hat shifts with the moon shifting back through the sky. Steams of starlight accenting the curls of orange hair sticking out from beneath. Catching in the sapphire of his eyes to shimmer as they meet a small sliver of silver.
âAkutagawa,â the boy finally answers.
It was then Chuuya made an impulsive decision.
âWant me to train you?â
The words slip past his lips before reasoning could kick in. But the regret doesnât follow. It never would when Chuuya watched life begin to seep back into like a sieve was released into those hollow eyes. As if the reason for his living and suffering was finally being given to him after it had so harshly been taken from him in blood.
âYouâŠwhy?â Akutagawa straightens.
âYou have an ability,â Chuuya points obviously to the scarf. âI do as well. And Iâll make sure that you donât have to go through this again. So, you in?â
Akutagawa howls, the sound echoing and filling the moonlit glade. Chuuya swore the leaves trembled at the sound, the release of anger and frustration at the world and how it had slighted him for so long.
Mori wouldnât be happy, neither would Dazai as this was meant to be his mission. But a new ability user would hopefully assuage their concerns and fulfill the political business bullshit needed.
Chuuya strips his leather jacket and wraps it around Akutagawa as his howl ends. Smirk high as he feels a sense of purpose, a new start and a second chance to do right by someone looking up to him.
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