In many fics that I've read, people have it that he has no memory of what his corrupted self did. Which got me thinking...
Is that really the case?
During the battle with Lovecraft, the first thing Chuuya does after coming out of Corruption is berate Dazai for letting him go for so long, but he never seems confused. He doesn't ask what happened (Although that could be because Dazai told him to rest and he would only do that if they were safe) and just starts bickering again.
In Dead Apple, Chuuya doesn't ask anything either. He already knew he was going to hit Dazai for being an idiot and was not confused at all about where he was, since if he did forget, the last thing he would be aware of is falling out of the sky.
In Storm Bringer, we get some POV from Chuuya when he uses Corruption (Although that scene also implies that Chuuya had some control over Corruption, if only bearly, before his body breaks down too much) for the first time but we never see the aftermath.
The only times we see it is the two I've already mentioned.
Anyways, this is just me rambling that I think that Chuuya is actually aware during the fights but hes the passenger, not the one in the driver's seat.
I love post corruption Chuuya so much...the idea of the aftermath being exponentially worse each time, one day Dazai's brought Chuuya home and on day three he's still in so much pain that he throws up if he moves too much and it only makes everything hurt worse, his fever won't come down even after everything Dazai has tried, he's hallucinating his dead friends and Dazai thinks that Chuuya's having trouble seeing or he can't see at all, and when Chuuya finally breaks and cries from how overwhelmed he is Dazai tells himself this has to be the last time, he knows Chuuya just needs a few more days of rest, he'll never let it show but he's worried he won't get Chuuya back to normal next time
jaaneman // जानेमन // جان ِ من (persian, n.) - “soul of me” or “life of me”; gender-neutral word for sweetheart or darling
requested by: anonymous
notes: post-corruption conversations, in honour of chuuya’s birthday. and also because i was supposed to have written this ages ago. not proof read because i’m lazy and tired.
When Chuuya woke up, he was disoriented for a while. Every bone in his body screamed in agony, and his quickened breaths made it feel like he might as well be swallowing crushed glass. There was a pounding ache in his skull that dimmed all other sensations in comparison, and for a moment, he wished he would just lose consciousness again.
He knew he wouldn’t, though. This wasn’t the first time this was happening, and although it was every bit as shitty as every time else, at least he knew what to expect. His senses were out of focus, the sounds of his surroundings only incomprehensible static, while his eyes registered vague blurs of movement.
He blinked once, then twice, then several times before he could finally focus.
“You’re awake.” She murmured, and Chuuya heard the smile of relief in her voice before he saw it.
She was sitting beside him on the bed, knees drawn up to her chin. Slowly putting her hand on one of his limp cold ones, she smiled wearily. She looked tired, and he wondered how long she had been sitting there. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but his throat felt too scratchy to speak. He tried to sit up slowly, but his stomach suddenly clenched violently.
He shot out of bed, despite every single muscle in his body pleading in protest, and ran into the bathroom at record speed. As he hurled up the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl, he heard her rush into the bathroom after him. She sighed, before coming to crouch down beside him, holding back his hair as he retched some more.
Chuuya heaved for what felt like minutes before he finally slumped back down onto the floor. Wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he leaned his head back and closes his eyes.
“Feel better?” she asked softly, brushing some strands of his hair out of his eyes, and he wondered if he should tell her that she was miserably failing to hide the concern in her eyes.
“Not…really.” The two words took immense effort for him to get out. His voice sounded scratchy, though from disuse or from the vomit, he couldn’t tell. “How long was I out for?”
“A couple of days, give or take.” She replied.
He lightly rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Jesus…”
A vague sequence of events was reconstructing itself in Chuuya’s dazed mind. Despite his explicit threats, he was sure Dazai must have left him after he passed out, right where they ha faced that Lovecraftian monstrosity, and Mori, knowing Dazai better than anyone, must have sent someone to retrieve Q and Chuuya.
“Mori-san had me dropped right back home?”
“Along with your coat.” She shrugged, “You did tell him you don’t like hospitals, after all.”
Chuuya got up on unsteady feet, shakily making his way towards the sink. That was true, he hated hospitals. But it wasn’t her job to clean up after his mess either. He could only imagine what it must have been like for her, being handed his broken and bloodied body and asked to keep him alive.
Speaking of, there was not a spot of blood on him now. Chuuya felt a pang of guilt, as he imagined her all alone with his unconscious body, scrubbing the blood from his clothes and desperately trying to hold him together. He knew he wouldn’t have died, but that did not make it any less damaging.
He got out of the bathroom after cleaning himself up, still swaying slightly on his feet. She had gone to fetch him a towel, which she handed to him now.
He sighed, slumping back down at the edge of the bed, elbows propped on his knees, both hands supporting his still aching head, “…I’m sorry.”
She raised a confused eyebrow, “What for?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely around himself, “Everything. This shouldn’t be your problem.”
“Come on,” she rolled her eyes, coming to sit beside him “You know it’s not like that.”
“No? You must have been scared.”
She sighed deeply, then leaned slightly sideways, resting her head on his shoulder. Chuuya could tell she was just as exhausted as he was.
“I was…” she admitted, “I always am, every time you use corruption. But what am I supposed to do about it, Chuuya? I cannot just up and leave.”
His heart thudded once in his chest, “Why not?”
She laughed lightly, but then stopped when she looked up at his face, “Oh, you’re being serious? You have got to be kidding me. Why do you think, dimwit?”
He didn’t reply, just looking at her with wide, questioning blue eyes.
She sighed, averting her gaze, before she finally murmured, “Because I love you…What do I have to do to get you to believe that?”
Chuuya’s heart swelled slightly in his chest. He did believe her. There was not a doubt in his mind that she loved him. He was just afraid that she might love him a little too much.
He placed one hand on her cheek lightly, dipping to place a short, chaste kiss on her lips, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Neither do I deserve you.” She laughed lightly, “Guess we’ll both just have to settle.”
Chuuya smiled. He loved that about her. She never let him say anything negative about himself, always turning his words around until they sounded…merrier somehow. Chuuya was…rough around the edges, and even though he was very much alive and burning with life and power, he always felt as if there was something missing without her by his side.
“Are you hungry?” she asked after a while, “I can fix something for you.”
“Nah, don’t bother.” He waved a hand, “I’ll probably just throw it back up.”
That was just another one of the many post-corruption side-effects, but Chuuya was used to it. Nevertheless, she stood up.
“Then I’ll make you some chamomile tea, that might help settle your stomach. How does that sound?”
He smiled, “Lovely. Thank you, love.”
She smiled, bending down to kiss his cheek once, before leaving. Chuuya watches her retreating figure, head swarming with a million thoughts.
He goes on a lot of overseas missions, for some reason, Mori-san prefers him for that job. Just last month, he went to some central Asian country, which might be an odd thing for him to remember right at that moment, except he remembered that people there called their loved ones ‘jaaneman’, which literally means ‘soul of me’.
Even back when he had first heard it, the term had reminded him of her. But right now, he quite literally felt their weight. Soul of me. It was true. If Chuuya was the fire, the life inside of a body, she was the soul.
Each time he used corruption, he felt hollower than the last time, like something had just been taken from him. His only solace was to crawl back into her arms, because no matter how bloodied or broken, he knew she would always take care of him. Because she made the emptiness go away.
How fitting, he thought with a rueful smile, he was only alive until his soul refused to leave him. And luckily, she was holding on tight. He loved her, so much more than his own life, so much more than he could ever put into words. He sighed, getting up and swaying slightly,
“Chuuya ~” he heard her call from the kitchen, “Come, your tea is getting cold.”
Despite the ache permeating every inch of his body, a small smile tugged at his lips. “Coming.”
Another mission with Double Black, another night of using Corruption to defeat the enemy. He hated that he needed Dazai to use it.
Every time, he asked that bastard to take him home. And every time, that stupid mackerel left him there in a pool of blood, too exhausted to even lift his head. In a couple hours, maybe he could pull out his phone and call Akutagawa or Kouyou to help him home, but until then, he was immobile, and stuck.
At least, until he felt a cool palm on his back, and then he was being hoisted up. He coughed out blood, wiping it away with the back of his hand and looking to his helper. "R…" He coughed some more. "Ranpo?"
Ranpo looked down at the other and offered a smile. "I'm here. I've got you… we're going home." He rubbed over Chuuya's back and began the walk home. At some point, he even picked the other up and carried him bridal style.
Once they got home, he brought Chuuya to the bathroom, stripping them both down and then going into the shower. He cleaned Chuuya, washing away all the blood and dirt, giving him kisses all over and massaging his muscles when they were too stiff. When they got out, he patched Chuuya up, putting him back together again, and then he brought him to their clean bed.
"Ranpo," Chuuya started, looking so frail and vulnerable as he laid in bed, trembling like a leaf in the wind. But his voice was still relatively firm. "S - stay. Please, stay." He knew that Ranpo was intending to let him sleep there alone until he was healed, but Chuuya didn't want to be alone. He had been alone for long enough.
Blinking in surprise, Ranpo showed a smile, and then he pulled on his sweatpants and oversized shirt before climbing into bed. "Alright, Chuuya. I'll stay."
That was several days ago. And still, Chuuya continued to tremble, no matter how much he seemed to be recovering. More than anything, this was his least favorite part of using Corruption. The trembling that always came after.
The longest it had been present was three weeks, shortest had been five days. He despised it. It made him feel weak, and if he went back to work with this damn tremor, everybody would be on his ass about it.
Chuuya set down the kettle with a growl, closing his eyes as he tried not to cry out of frustration. "Damn it!" He shouted. He couldn't even pour a cup of tea, and that made him so irrationally angry. When he tried to use his ability to help, all he got was a headache and an overwhelming bout of nausea.
"Damn Dazai and his stupid plans!" Chuuya shouted before covering his mouth, and he curled up tighter on himself, choking down vomit. But this effort only made his trembling that much worse.
Dazai's plans never had a happy ending for Chuuya, no matter what. But it was always Chuuya's fault for going along with it, no matter how long he shook afterwards.
He didn't shake because of exhaustion. He shook because he would always be Dazai's secret weapon, and he was incredibly aware of that fact
