At fifteen, Chuuya is inevitably forced to spend way too much time around Dazai, courtesy of a gleeful Mori who thought it would be a good idea to pair them together.
They're in one of the mafia's safehouses when Chuuya finds out Dazai doesn't only cover his arms, but wears bandages all over his torso as well. He's helping the brunet with a bullet wound right below his chest and seeing how the bandages hug his skin tightly, Chuuya has an idea.
He steals one roll of bandages while Dazai is asleep, careful not to wake him up, then promptly enters the bathroom once he gets back to his apartment.
He stands in front of the mirror and reluctantly removes both his shirt and his bra, freeing his skin from the irritating fabric. He averts his gaze from the naked reflection in front of him, and with trembling hands he starts to wrap white strings of gauze around his chest.
He puts his shirt back on and heaves a sigh of relief as soon as his eyes finally settle on the mirror. His chest looks almost flat, as if it just disappeared, and a faint blush enlightens Chuuya's freckled cheeks.
The newfound "chest destruction technique"—that's what Chuuya calls it—boosts his confidence, though in the back of his mind he wonders how Dazai manages to keep all those bandages together.
Chuuya's always feel on the verge of falling off especially during combat, but he's too unsure to ask him. Dazai wouldn't understand the discomfort of looking at your own chest and wanting to rip it off; he would probably tell Chuuya he's an idiot, wouldn't he?
He's just a girl to Dazai—and anyone else really—therefore he wouldn't get it. On the contrary, people would most likely pity him for his small size, which is supposed to be a loss for a girl.
So, Chuuya simply goes on with his life, burying that 'I wish I were a boy' feeling in the back of his mind and ignoring all the times Dazai calls him a whiny girl or Kouyou asks if he's interested in make-up lessons.
It doesn't make any sense. It seems that mind and body go hand in hand for everyone but him.
He feels like a goddamn flaw in the system.
He tries to shove those feelings aside until one day he's changing outfits for an undercover mission–he's going as Dazai's girlfriend, of course–and Kouyou accidentally steps into the room.
Chuuya's arms instinctively fly to his chest while he tries to come up with some excuses to justify the bandages compressing his chest to the point it hurts. Kouyou doesn't fall for it and eventually gets Chuuya to admit he's been doing it for months.
Kouyou's jaw drops, disappointment painted all over her face, and Chuuya waits for a reprimand, an admonishment, anything.
Instead, Kouyou pats his head and asks for permission to help him with the bandages.
"This isn't safe, honey. Let's keep the bandages loose for now, okay? We can try sports bras if that's okay with you."
That day Chuuya learns about the word 'trans' and his feelings start to make a bit more sense.
Kouyou asks him whether he'd like to be referred to with different terms and pronouns and Chuuya gladly accepts, and there's a new light shining in his eyes.
The next day the young girl takes him on a shopping spree so that he can look for sports bras that are tight enough to flatten his chest without hurting his body. They also visit the men's section and for the first time Chuuya isn't too scared to step into the fitting room and stare at himself in the mirror.
Even though Chuuya never dressed in what is considered a stereotypical feminine way, people start to notice the shift in his style and even in his demeanor.
He isn't exactly in the closet, but hasn't explicitly come out yet because he finds the whole ordeal quite embarrassing.
What is he supposed to do? Grab a mic and tell the whole Port Mafia he's a trans boy? He'd rather die; plus it's no one's business really. They'll realise eventually.
That's why one day he's taken by surprise while he's arguing with Dazai.
"Sorry?" he asks, arching a brow.
"Has Chuuya become deaf?" Dazai remarks, annoyed, "I said he should buy a supply of milk or else he's going to be a small boy for the rest of his life."
The shift in pronouns was natural and none of them questioned it, but Dazai never called him a boy before.
Chuuya ignores the usual insult, basking in the warmth growing in his chest.
Some time later, Chuuya finds a package waiting for him outside the door. There's a small card that reads 'For all the bandages slug stole from me'.
Ah, of course the fucker knew.
He opens the box, expecting some kind of unfunny prank; instead, his brow furrows as he realises he's holding trans tape in his hand.
He's glad he's alone right now and no one is there to mock him, so he allows himself to let the tears run down his cheeks.
Quietly, Dazai escapes from the bathroom window.
On his 17th birthday, Kouyou gifts him his first binder.
Chuuya isn't excited at first as he assumes it isn't much different from a sports bra. He changes his mind immediately as he tries it on and looks at himself in the mirror.
"This can't be real." he mutters to himself and he promptly grabs one of his tightest shirts.
"Ane-san!" he turns to Kouyou, enthusiasm getting the best of him, "They're gone—what? W-Why are you crying!?"
That day Chuuya learns that you don't have to fully understand people's happiness to the core to be able to experience it together.
One night he and Dazai are lying in the redhead's king-size bed, the moon being the only source of light and the only witness of the time they secretly spent together.
It's a habit they developed at some point, and neither of them dare question it. By the time the sun is up, Dazai will be gone and will act like nothing happened anyway.
Dazai's bandages are gone and so is Chuuya's binder—they never hide themselves from each other. There's some sort of intimacy that allows them to tear down the walls they built up against the world.
Chuuya is tracing random patterns on Dazai's arm with his fingertips when the brunet suddenly speaks.
"You know, some people get their top surgery scars tattooed."
Chuuya hums. "Do you want me to get them tattooed too?"
"It's Chuuya's choice. Besides, he needs to get top surgery first."
"Right," Chuuya mumbles, voice unsure, "Do you think I should get them covered?"
"Chuuya doesn't have to hide himself." he replies, sensing the direction of the redhead's thoughts. "That isn't why I suggested it."
Eventually Chuuya has Dazai admit he brought up the idea just because he thinks Chuuya would look good with tattoos. Particularly good.
"You can get your scars tattooed too, you know." Chuuya tentatively suggests.
"I have a bit too many, slug."
"Who cares? You can pick the one that hurt the most."
"I can't cover my soul in tattoos, Chuuya."
When Chuuya wakes up from anesthesia, his first thought is to ask for Dazai. He promised he would be there, and that's why when Chuuya's eyes scan the empty room, save for Kouyou sitting at the edge of the bed, he assumes that he must have gone to the bathroom or something. Right?
His mind isn't clear enough yet to remember that the bastard defected two years ago without a word. Drugs truly do some fun things to your brain.
Kouyou offers him a sad smile and reassures him that Dazai is waiting for him at home.
When he finally steps into his apartment, peeking with curiosity at the couple of scars on his chest, he doesn't even remember he asked for that idiot in the first place.
And when several months later Chuuya comes back from a mission abroad, a small card awaits him on his bed. There's an address written over it.
Now, Chuuya isn't stupid. All it takes is a quick trip to google to realise that said address matches his favourite tattoo artist.
When he gets there, hands slightly trembling, a familiar figure is waiting for him. Obnoxiously tall, messy brown curls, amber eyes and a tan coat—the last one is new, but it definitely suits him better.
"I hope she's still your favourite artist." the other man speaks quietly, voice filled with nervousness.
Chuuya finally relaxes.
"And I hope you have finally picked your favourite scar, mackerel." the redhead replies, a warm smile adorning his face.
Dazai doesn't know he has already been forgiven years ago.
