#ahrabaki

[nullfier]

         THEIR ALLIANCE WAS CALLED . . .       THE MOST DEVASTATING RIVALRY IN HISTORY.          [   TONIGHT MARKS THEIR REUNION.   ] 

[nullfier]

      DAZAI'S INTELLECT WOULD FIND THE WEAKNESS, AND CHUUYA WOULD ELIMINATE THE FOE. 双黒 @ahrabaki & @ninkaku .

[nullfier]

   ▍ CASE FILE . . . NAKAHARA, CHUUYA ⤻ @ahrabaki . ❪ . . . ❫ “ i don't pry into your stupid personal life. ”

throwing his head back with a roll of his eyes, and scoff sounding from deep in his lungs, dazai fixed him with a stare. “ so boring, chuuya. what am i allowed to ask, what's your favourite comic? i already know the answer. it's twenty - questions, i want the good stuff. ” blood still lingered underneath his fingernails, but another job tied up neatly with a glittering bow only meant that their downtime increased. double black and their winning scorecard, wandering the darkened streets back to chuuya's apartment, dazai all but glued to his side in the absence of nothing else calling his name, having nowhere else he would rather be. “ pry. ” the word tacked with a hum. “ you don't need to. i'm an open book. ” an obvious lie, if the wideness of his grin was anything to go by. if you looked past his outward presentations, there was no hint to a history, and dazai made sure to implicate at any available opportunity that he intended to have a very short - lived future.

“ okay, new game. surprise. ” spinning on his heel to walk backwards, steps careful and light he made the gesture for chuuya to hold out his hand. when he hesitated, bored and irritated, dazai scrunched his brows as though to say, really? and urged him with a wave of his own hand. in the compliance, he fished something out of his pocket and dropped into chuuya's palm - a pair of keys, attached to a plush keychain in the shape of a dog, dazai having been unable to help himself. for him to open his eyes was a wordless command followed and they stopped in their tracks as the confusion settled over chuuya's features, the resounding the fuck's this? echoing in the empty street. a delicate shrug to lift dazai's shoulder, the next confession idly held on his tongue. “ that ... pool house. it was port mafia affiliated. ” unimportant details that he inwardly cursed himself for, as chuuya already knew it. “ its lodger died. ” and it sat there, untouched for an entire year, maybe two. “ i had it fixed up. ” the stench of blood and death removed, remnants of horror hidden in the walls and floorboards, but to the naked eye it looked exactly as it had done - as an executive with every right to do so, dazai had made sure the plans were followed to every intimate detail.

the click of his tongue, throat cleared in the quiet that hung between them. “ it's yours. i pried, sue me. ” this offering a sheep's carcass in the mouth of a fox, laid tenderly at his feet. a flicker of his gaze to the keys in his palm, then back to his face. even if chuuya never intended to step foot back in it again, it would always be there, just as it was and not the coffin it had been fashioned into. dazai could recognise the unfairness of the deaths handed out, and at such a time paul verlaine may have been set in his reasonings he was wasteful, careless, overly emotional to something he had forced a connection to pursuing. catastrophe only followed the altercation, and in the wake of the loss the port mafia had suffered, things such as the repair of the old pool house had gone ignored. “ do what you want with it. own it, burn it, give it back to the city. ” tone even, watching him stare at the keys and not knowing what to expect. he figured he should brace himself for the inevitable reply of violence, took a moment to swing himself around the telephone pole at his right and put some distance between them. “ i don't care, but it's yours. forged your signature, didn't want you to say no before i could get it off my plate, so now it's your problem. ”

[nullfier]

✏️ or else

INCORRECT QUOTES ⤻ CHUUYA + DAZAI.

chuuya: there's something i have to ask about you-know-who. dazai: voldemort? chuuya: no. dazai: is it voldemort? chuuya: it's not voldemort. dazai: you haven’t mentioned wizards once this conversation, so i’m gonna have to assume it’s voldemort.

chuuya: how do tall people people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you? dazai:  chuuya, it's four o'clock in the morning. chuuya:  so, you can't sleep, huh? is it because of the blanket?

chuuya: what happened?! dazai: do you want the long version or the short version? chuuya: sh-short?? dazai: shit's fucked. chuuya: okay, long. dazai: shit's very fucked.

dazai: as you know i keep a list of all my friends in order of how likely they are to betray me. chuuya: where am i on the list? dazai: well i can’t tell you that because then you’ll quickly move up or down depending on your reaction.

chuuya: where did you get that tomato soup? dazai: it’s actually a bowl of ketchup i just microwaved.

chuuya: here comes the lightning! chuuya, whispering: you've got to imagine it coming out my fingertips, wherein i am an almighty wizard. dazai: ok, currently imagining that. hmm, not bad. not bad at all.

[nullfier]

  ▍ CASE FILE . . . NAKAHARA, CHUUYA ⤻ @ahrabaki . ❪ . . . ❫ “ THERE CAN BE VALUE IN NOT TALKING. ”

rain - drenched, their target shivered in the darkness, fighting against the restraints chaining him to the chair but careful of the contraption wired around his body with its merciless ticking, sky opening further and dropping another bucket of harsh reality down upon them. one knee bent into the dirt, elbow resting on the other dazai reached out to grasp his face between his fingers, tears melting into rainwater and indecipherable as he forced their eyes to meet. “ ... and this ? ” forcibly turning his face to the device held in his other hand, brandishing it with a sadistic gleefulness. “ garage door opener. ” continuing an earlier revelation, button pressed beneath his thumb the man flinched, yet nothing happened. he was no older than they were, but his features were worn, defeated. eyes bloodshot and dazed, broken spirit spilling from their corners. dazai dropped his face, straightening under the umbrella one of his men held out for himself and his partner, shaking droplets from the tips of his hair and uncaring to where they landed, especially if onto chuuya.

“ you were never going to die here. ” double black's men cut him out of the contraption, all wires with no lead. no spark, no fuse. not a bomb at all, just a clock in a makeshift harness, but under the chaos of darkness and rain with fear coursing through his veins, of course he wouldn't have realised. dazai and chuuya had made sure of it. “ go on with phase two. nothing needs to change. ” order spoken to nobody in particular, but chaos around them stilled as their people found instruction and filed back to their vehicles. the flash of the wraith's canines, the man heaved dry and rough, revelation sitting in wide eyes. the realisation, the port mafia already knew everything there was to know, and he betrayed his people anyway. taking the umbrella and crouching before him, little care for his own safety, dazai left chuuya to the cover of rainfall, head tilted in curiosity as the man wailed. “ i'm sure they'll understand ... hey, what did you say before, chuuya ? ” brief look passed over his shoulder, free fingers clicking in thought and waiting or the bored drawl of words from behind him. eyes taken away from their target in his weakened state. “ there can be value in not talking. ” catching the ends of the words dazai mouthed them and returned his attentions, nodding with an earnest hum. “ he's right. wait, were you talking about me? eh. nobody listens to chuuya anyway. ” watching him would soon turn boring, and standing dazai took his place next to his partner and turned to him with a questioning raise of his brow, once again sheltering him under their shared umbrella. regardless that they were both drenched from head to toe, bandages awkwardly climbing to his skin like something desiring to be shed. “ what does chuuya want to do with him now ? teeth to the curb ? your call, i’m hungry. ”

[zuhuraha]

@ahrabaki: i think we've overstayed our welcome.

she clicks her tongue, the action so natural to her she doesn't even realize she's done it. the warehouse they were supposed to check out tonight was rumored to be empty, no one had been seen moving in and out of it for days. there wasn’t meant to be a proper fight as they had come here for a simple loot. when asked about it, she had been told by the informant that it was just a simple shipment, a bunch of documents and objects that needed to be shifted from one side of the city to the other. but this was not just any old sort of object, that she was sure of.  that meant the crate would most likely be tracked and inside of it would be goods worth more money than either of the two people in front of them had touched in their entire life. blood money, she would assume. and she was going to find out who had gotten hurt for this prized object. in her mind, it feels like the first snow of winter. crisp air flooding her lungs, ice - slicked pavement crackling beneath her feet, skeletal trees that glitter with frozen dew and freshly coated snowflakes. broken skin, nips of icicle - teeth.

this is what her consciousness calls wonder in the strangest ways. whereas others would act swiftly, the scene that is about to unfold in front of her interests her greatly. she turns to look at chuuya now. there's a sharp edge to her brown eyes, like there's a weight there. something knowing. and then, just how it always works, there's a tug at her subconscious. a crack in a frozen lake.   ``     you might be in luck.    `` she whispers.   ``     depending on that—    `` and she points with her eyes at one of them.   ``     guy's next move, he might do something and make a fool out of himself.    `` her eyes swim with precision. decision. a cleave into ones skin, her greedy eyes slipping under it. what she carries now is wisdom of power she can use and its experience and it only leaves a childlike sense of wonder in her this time. is that a choice she wishes to make? she hasn't used the evil eye in years, but it feels warm behind her ribcage, right where she hides her secrets.

she tugs the thought along and casts it aside, however, because that, too, has become too boring to stomach. her eyes land on the woman next to him.   ``     she might be trickier. it depends on who moves first.    `` she glances over to him one final time, a mocking pout gracing her features that she only shows to get on his nerves once again.   ``     i'm not a fighter, though, so you're all on your own here, chuuya.    ``

[nullfier]

“ get back unless y'want me to aim this directly at you ! ” he shouts, a warning — one he figures is useless considering the amount of times dazai has stood in front of fireworks, tested his fate with them, and escaped unscathed. usually. the return of a longtime tradition, born from the forgotten rooftop of one of the port mafia properties, fireworks and sparklers purchased in bulk. and here they are again, under the black of the night, crescent moon lighting a dim path over the sparse landing zone. zippo flicks open and the flame catches the end tail of the thread, to which chuuya immediately drops and runs towards dazai, no hesitation as he drags him alongside the furthest corner. the radio plays nearby, various songs and reports coming through and then the newscaster begins to initiate the countdown. it's timed impeccably as the fire burns, nearly reaching. he hasn't released his hold on him yet, searching for the warmth amidst the winter air nipping at bare skin, gloved fingers entangling with his. 10, 9, 8 — “ fuck, almost burnt my brows off. ” he breathes out, face glowing from the light, and then tearing his gaze from the sparks to look up at him. storms to molten, warmth to coldness. 7, 6, 5 — “ got dust on your face, too. ” 4, 3 — “ light them for me next year or else. ” dazai is speaking but he feels the rush of the final numbers, free hand grabbing at the back of his neck to pull him down, face to face, too close. 2, 1 —

every year dazai volunteers to be strapped to one of the fireworks due to flash bright in the sky, and every year he's denied his new year's wish. chuuya sets up and dazai pouts, absently palming off many of the different types they he bought to curate their perfect display. the agency will be setting off their own by the lakeside, and dazai wonders if he'll be able to see them from here, or if they'll find themselves mixed in the others that will inevitably shine across yokohama's skyline. he figures, warmth in the pool of his stomach as he watches concentration flicker across chuuya's expression in the flash of his zippo, this will be enough. then he's being pulled, fingers interlocked without a moment spare to the corner of the rooftop and away from his very front - row seat to watch from safer distance, and as they stand dazai tightens his grip in his hold, letting their shared warmth radiate through from their palms his entire body as the countdown sounds. “ might be a good look for you. ” words a cloud in the cold winter air, devilish grin settling across his lips as their gazes meet, dazai's flickering to the brows in question, still intact, then to the dusting of faint freckles illuminated by the crackling light of the firework trails. he can just barely see the dust speckled across his own nose but makes no attempt to wipe it away, instead nodding as earnestly as can be allowed. speaking into the high - pitched noise that drowns out his words as the lights make their way to clear skies, he says, “ if chuuya insists ... ” so simple, no arguments despite the pull to the ledge that sits nestled in the back of his mind even now, and perhaps it's a promise, or his own twisted version of it. something that says, i'll be here if you are as though intentionally entwining them further together. moltens find themselves studying the curve of his lips against the shadow of night and as chuuya brings him down, dazai falls as easily as ever with a gratifying sound, untangling their fingers as their lips meet and winding arms around chuuya's waist to pull him closer, mould them together as the celebration sparks around them. sounding like gunfire but the sting of a bullet replaced by the heat of their bodies where they stand pressed together, ignorant to their own fluorescent display, completely wrapped in one another and the silent promises that they cannot voice, spoken in each slide of their lips and touch of wandering hands.

[nullfier]

he's caught red - handed, trying to place something at his door. of course, dazai wasn't asleep. he should've known better. he also should've known better than to down about ... however many bottles of shochu he's got floating around in his body, and attempt pulling some bullshit on his ex - partner. he likely wasn't even remotely quiet in his journey to his room. and thank fucking god that it was far too late into the night for anyone to see him mucking about the agency dormitory. with the door swung open and hooded eyes meeting that familiar, stupid face, he couldn't help but lean against the door in some attempt to maintain dignity. the picture he'd drawn messily was not helping his case. “ wanted t'give y'this. hope you have a shitty rest of your night. ” and instead of taping it to the door, he pats it over his chest. and then boops him on the nose.

no matter how out of place they seemed in the dormitory hallway, dazai would have known the sounds of chuuya's heavy footsteps anywhere. dragging himself from his futon to swing the door open was second nature, regardless of the fact he hadn't knocked ... because he would always open the door to him. though when the dim light from his rooms illuminated his form, swaying to rest against the door in false nonchalance, dazai still took the time to blink at him in surprise. then he spoke, reaching to touch and leave something behind. “ lucky for you, it just got worse. ” the gentlest of jabs, and dazai took the time to look down, brow furrowed in gentle confusion and lips pursed before his head tipped as if it would help him get a better look. fingers toyed with the tape - less edge to lift it just slightly. a poorly drawn … fish ? with the head of a very messy - haired dazai. from this angle, it looked like he’d drawn him smiling, at least. “ oh. it's very good. ” head raising to meet chuuya's gaze, back falling to rest against the opposite side of the door so that he could still face him. “ chuuya should consider leaving the mafia to become a police sketch artist. you'd have criminals caught in minutes for us, it's like looking in a mirror. ” smile settling across his lips small, but with enough overwhelming fondness that managed to reflect in his eyes and make his gaze warm as it raked over chuuya's form, drinking in the sight of him in his doorway. “ came all this way just to give me that aaaaat ... ? ” the slight inclination of his head beyond the threshold of the door, eyeing the clock above it before coming back to him with a naturally vague answer. “ this hour? awful long way to walk just for that. ”