Chapter Text
“I want you alive, so I can kill you with my own bare hands.” he hoarsely whispered to nobody in the room.
On the other side of the glass, only two government officials stood still as they observed as if they were just watching a dangerous animal at the zoo.
“Is there any development?” the senior of the two asked, keeping his eyes on the redhead on the other side of the glass closely, watching every minuscule movement.
The other one flipped through the papers on the clipboard. Physical health assessments, mental health assessments and notes regarding his behaviour. “No, he's still exhibiting homicidal tendencies and now is apparently experiencing hallucinations double the amount from last week.” he read out, barely able to read one of the attending physician’s handwriting.
The older man ‘tsked’. “So, no chance at rehabilitation?”
He looked at his senior incredulously. “… were we seriously considering rehabilitation?” he asked. The man beyond the glass was extremely dangerous, and had no reason to leave them all alive if he ever gets his hands on them.
“He's a gifted Ability user, he could've done so much more if the Mafia hadn't got to him first.”
When Nakahara woke up, the usual four bland grey walls wasn't what he was greeted with, nor the smell of sweat and damp concrete.
Instead, he was sitting on a quite comfortable chair, looking down at a mess of documents. Each had the familiar seal of the Port Mafia, and some had his signature.
Huh.
Was he dreaming?
Or going insane looking at the same view everyday to the point he was hallucinating to a much more extreme extent?
That seemed like a more plausible explanation. He was sure he had been talking to his dead Boss last week, hearing his voice echo in the room. Maybe his brain had conjured up something else for him so he wouldn't die from boredom. Or insanity.
Nakahara didn't move even an inch, only his eyes darted left and right as he tried to scan his surroundings, trying to see if anything was out of place. Something that would give away the experiment the government was trying to do.
He still had restraints around his arms, but the chains were loose as it coiled on the pristine wooden floor. Wooden. Wood. It didn't sound like concrete.
Tainted solved the problem of being binded easily. The metal broke around into tiny little fragments and his arms flexed after a long time of disuse and the ache of being held in the same position for God knows how long now.
When he tried to stand up, his legs wobbled and a sound came from his throat to voice out his annoyance. Luckily, Nakahara managed to grab the edge of the desk before he tumbled down to the floor like an idiot.
It had really been so long since he had control over his own autonomy. Being released from those Ability restraint cuffs returned the feeling of Tainted thrumming underneath his skin, he can hear that voice in his head snarling to be used again and cause destruction like he did to half of Yokohama.
But he reigned it in. Not now. Because this place, was no doubt, his office. But it shouldn't be possible. Port Mafia's buildings were destroyed in the wake of his rampage, and it couldn't have been rebuilt so fast.
Sure, he lost the sense of time in the duration of his confinement but it couldn't have been that long for the remaining people of the Mafia to scramble and find a new leader and rebuilt headquarters under new leadership.
It didn't make sense.
Nothing made sense.
All he knew he was free, and in an exact replica of his office.
Maybe this was an experiment being conducted by those government douchebags. But why would they risk removing the Ability restraint cuffs? Nakahara could just crumble the nearest wall and make an escape, maybe kill all those fuckers and they won't ever be able to catch him again.
Even if he were to escape, where would he even go? He'd be a wanted criminal. And there was nothing for him out there anyway if he was to leave. He felt useless. What good was he if his Boss was dead?
Dazai, dead.
He… he forgot about that. It escaped his mind that the man was actually, truly, dead.
“This isn't funny.” his fingers dug into the sides of Dazai's head, his fingers threaded through the soft hair as he ignored the blood and possibly brain matter staining the floor, staining his hands, his sleeves.
He activated ‘Tainted’ but the cool chill of ‘No Longer Human’ didn't greet him.
Nakahara had held his corpse. Saw his eyes. He was used to crushing people’s heads into dust but seeing his own Boss like that was- different.
Holding his cold body was different, watching those eyes somehow become even more lifeless was different. The man had on multiple layers but was still cold, the idiot. Dazai was always cold, even in the summer. Winter and autumn were no different. Even if his Boss never admitted that fact he always knew.
He didn't even know where Dazai was buried, or if he even was. He knew the matters of Dazai's funeral- or at least, how his body would be handled, had been passed onto Atsushi after he was deemed no longer fit.
He wanted to go find Atsushi, and ask where his Boss’s body was buried-
“Oh, Nakahara-san. I didn't realize you were back so… early.” someone he didn't recognise had opened the door, holding a few files in his hands. The grunt noticed the state of his clothes, and the overall sight of the usually well put together Executive looking ragged like he’d been through hell and back.
Nakahara stared at him silently. Watched as the uneasiness crept onto that grunt’s features. He didn't recognise this guy. He didn't know who this is, he didn't move an inch.
This had to be some sort of experiment. Or simulation. It had to be. It had to.
The grunt took a few hesitant steps inside. “Uh, sorry to interrupt… I'll just leave these here for you. Excuse me, Nakahara-san.” he deposited the files onto his desk swiftly and practically ran out. The Executive rarely ever showed his wrath towards his subordinates but that didn't mean they didn't respect him as a higher-up.
Nakahara continued to stare where the grunt had been, before his eyes slowly flickered towards the files left hastily on apparently, his desk.
Case report of joint mission with Armed Detective Agency.
Date: 23rd February 20XX
Port Mafia members involved:
Nakahara Chuuya, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
Armed Detective Agency members involved:
Edogawa Ranpo, Dazai Osamu, Nakajima Atsushi.
Location: XXX
Dazai Osamu.
Dazai Osamu.
Dazai.
His Osamu?
His Boss, a member of the Armed Detective fucks?
Atsushi, a detective and that kid in the Mafia?
His Boss, alive.
Yeah, he must be dreaming.
But he grabbed those files anyway, collapsing on the chair as he held it in his hands like it was a sacred relic. Pages of detailed reports from both parties regarding the mission, along side with signatures from all who was involved, it was only missing his, the blank space waiting to be signed off.
Dazai’s signature. It was the same. Could the government have faked it? Maybe, possibly.
It had that swoopy thing he always did, even when it didn't suit his style as Boss of the Port Mafia. He remembered insulting the man about it, he remembered how Dazai just smiled and told him he shouldn't disrespect his superior like that.
Nakahara looked around the desk. The office itself was void of any personal belongings but the desk had three photographs.
One was of him with the Flags.
The other was adult him with Kouyou.
The last was one of him and Dazai when they were 15.
This 15 year old Dazai looked different, he smiled like a goofy idiot, his eyes almost squinted shut as he smiled wide, giving his braces full view. That was the only anomaly he found. That was the only thing the government fucked up, and he didn't blame them for it. Trying to find genuine proof of Dazai from before he was 18 was incredibly hard considering the efforts made to erase everything that proved he existed before he turned 18.
Without him even realizing it, he let out a shaky breath. He was considering it, he can't believe he was considering something like this.
What if this wasn't a simulation or experiment?
What if he was really given a second chance?
What if this was his chance to make it right again?
Because it made sense.
Dazai being in the Agency instead of being Boss would make it much more easier, they would be much more happy. The reason his Boss had been like that in the first place because he had known nothing else but the Mafia, because had been thrust into the position of leader as he turned 19 when Mori perished.
He only managed to get a glimpse of what Dazai used to be before he cut off everyone around him. Even Nakahara, his right hand man, couldn't peel back the walls his Boss put up to hide himself. The stoic façade of an unmoving leader.
Please, God, let this be a second chance. He’ll promise to cherish this Dazai, he’ll promise that this Dazai will never be in harm’s way. He'll promise to protect this Dazai like how he swore an oath to the other.
And it was like a God did answer.
For he heard a phone ringing, the plastic lightly clattering against the desk as it vibrated. He spotted it, laid abandon between the documents. Even this phone was similar to his own. He wondered where that phone was.
He didn't even realize he staggered for the device before he flipped it open, the name ‘mackerel’ flashed across the screen.
Nakahara pressed the accept button so hard he thought he would've cracked the phone in half. He held his breath as he held it to his ear, waiting.
Please.
Please.
“Chuu-ya! I thought you were on an assignment? Finished it early or did you take the time to answer my call like a good doggy?”
Oh.
Oh. There's so much teasing in that voice. So much... He hadn't heard that tone in so long, practically never.
“Dazai.” he whispered. Nakahara didn't dare to say that name any louder. Afraid if he did, then his Dazai would leave him again and he'll once again lose everything.
“Chuu-ya.”
He liked how Dazai says his name like that. He loved it. He wanted to hear more, never wanted it to stop. He wanted to hear physically, to feel the breath that comes from Dazai's lips when he says his name.
“Dazai.” Nakahara repeated again, much louder this time. He can hear rustling on the other end before Dazai's response.
“Did something happen?”
“No.” he felt his lips turn up in a smile before be broke into a laugh, feeling his shoulders shake in tandem.
“Alright, you're being so cryptic and… weird. That's my job, what's going on?”
Oh, he can hear concern now in that sweet, upbeat voice. Nakahara relaxed and leaned against the soft cushion of the chair, that smile never leaving his face. “Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice.” he admitted. He didn't know how their relationship was in this… life or universe or whatever, although that was the least of his worries right now.
But he can tell they aren't close by the way Dazai responded with, “Are you sick? Or like, hit with an Ability? What's going on?” or at least, they weren't as close no more.
But that's okay, he’ll fix it.
This was his second chance after all, he'll do anything to fix this relationship. He won't let Dazai slip between his fingers again, it's a mistake he won't ever repeat.
“Wait a second, are you drunk? Since when do you drink at 2 in the evening?”
Nakahara let out a chuckle. “I'm not. Haven't drank in awhile.” he knew he shouldn't say anything about this Chuuya’s life, he didn't know if the other him hadn't been drinking or not, but right now all of that slipped his mind. He just wanted to cherish the sound of his Boss’s voice.
“Oh? How long is awhile? A week, two? Wait, let me guess!”
“A couple of months.”
“Eh? You didn't let me guess!”
“You're annoying.” he snorted. It reminded him of that short, blissful time he once had with his Dazai before it all came crumbling down.
“Hmph, chibi chose to answer my call.”
“I want to see you tonight.” he suddenly demanded. Nakahara felt greedy. He heard Dazai's voice but now he wanted to see him, see his face, smell his cologne- if he wore any, feel his skin that was hidden underneath those bandages. He didn't even need to think twice if this Dazai had bandages because the thought of him without any was illegal.
“Hm, we saw each other a few days ago.”
That sweet voice sounded solemn now, bored even, although he tried to hide it. He can imagine Dazai on the other end, a far off look on his face while he twirled his hair around his finger. A habit the man used to always do.
Nakahara didn't like hearing that tone. Not at all. He didn't want to hear that. Dazai said they- no, not him, the other Chuuya, had seen each other a few days ago.
Did something happen at the time?
Did the other Chuuya do something to him?
Did they argue?
He argued with his Boss just hours before the man took a swan dive off headquarters.
The other Chuuya should be fucking grateful his Dazai was still alive.
“Just come. The pier, don't get lost.” Nakahara hummed, trying to keep his cool and already dreaming of seeing him again.
“As if. I should be saying that to you, but your doggy senses should help with your navigation!”
The call ended right after that, letting the dog comments slide because he had gone so long without having them thrown in his way. Irritation began to take over him in waves. Nakahara wants to see Dazai, but he needed to deal with his other self. He couldn't have the other him mess up his chance, he wouldn't have any obstacles in his way.
He’ll kill him if he has to.
But, he’ll revisit that topic later. He won't completely eradicate his other self so soon, even though that would be the easiest solution to his problem.
Nakahara has other important things to get to.
He took some time to make sure he regain some strength in his legs so wouldn't be tumbling and stumbling around like a child when he walked. That wouldn't really give ‘Executive’ vibes, after all he is trying to adopt the other Chuuya’s personality and habits.
Exploring the room thoroughly, he confirmed it was exactly like his own office. So, that meant the tall cabinet tucked in the corner of the office should have some spare clothes for him to change into.
The torn shirt and dirty pants he currently had on wasn't what he wanted to wear when he'd meet Dazai again.
And this world’s Chuuya’s clothing choices were certainly… something.
Not his taste. But he’ll wear it. This Dazai was familiar with that Chuuya, so he’ll become that Chuuya. He'll become the Chuuya Dazai knows in his heart.
There's less red in these clothes, scratch that- there's also no red in these clothes. Nakahara hoped this doesn't mean his other self was a world's different from him.
“It's a slightly big.” he remarked quietly to himself as he looked at his own reflection in the mirror, he probably lost a bit of weight after his Boss’s death, and they weren't exactly serving gourmet foods where he had been confined.
He tried to imitate the Chuuya he saw in those photographs.
They didn't look that different, there were only a few indistinct features that didn't match. Nakahara had longer hair, duller eyes and a faded scar at the side of his neck that wasn't on his other self. He wasn't sure if there were any more scars he had that the other Chuuya didn't. Or vice versa.
Though, that was hardly a worry, he can just cover it up. There were plenty of items at his disposal to hide the pesky thing. The choker itself already did a decent job at hiding the blemish, Dazai won't be able to notice unless he was looking for it.
Other than that, Nakahara didn't look so far off from the man in the photographs. He'd say he did a job well done.
The clocked ticked, ticked, ticked. It was 2.48PM now, still far from night. Still a long while before he gets to see Dazai. He still had time to kill. Might as well investigate and plan.
Predictably, the computer’s password was something he didn't even need to guess.
“Chuuya-kun, are you alright?” Hirotsu asked as he finished up rounding the rest of the enemies, not even able to lend a hand before Chuuya brushed him off and got up by himself.
“Yeah. Fucker caught me off guard, that's all.” Chuuya grumbled as he dust off his pants. It was rare for someone like him to be caught off guard by seemingly a very inexperienced grunt in the first place, but the whole day has been feeling… off. He just couldn't put his finger on it.
Chuuya woke up with a sense of dread earlier in the morning, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. He thought maybe it was an anniversary of someone's death, or something important to him but he racked his brains and checked his calendar but to no avail. Nothing came up.
He even tried asking ane-san but she couldn't provide much help either. The last plausible cause if that something's happened to Dazai, however there's been so much work piled up for him he hadn't the chance to go look for the bastard himself.
Not wanting to admit he still cared for his ex-partner’s wellbeing, he had secretly texted Atsushi asking if anything happened and is still waiting for a response. He'd rather be dead than actually go to the Agency and see for himself. Really, he is serious.
Fixing his askew hat, he turned towards Hirotsu and waited for the older man to finish giving orders to Tachihara and Gin as what to do with their newly acquired hostages.
“I think I'm going to head home for a bit, my head is killing me. Just have someone send over any paperwork.” Chuuya said, already walking off as Hirotsu answered with a nod.
He didn't argue against the Executive heading home. They were a bit short of manpower for a week now so everyone had more work piled up than usual. So when bringing out Chuuya for their raids more often especially the last few days, it wasn't a surprise the man decided to head home early this time.
Well, the extra load of work was just one of the few things why Chuuya clocked off work early. But his others reasons aren't anyone's business.
“Everything's fine with Dazai-san. He hasn't tried anything today, why?”
Chuuya read the message, although he didn't grace the weretiger kid with a response. That was all he needed to know.
So, Dazai was fine. But then, why did he still feel so uneasy like the world was about to turn upside down or something?
It didn't make sense, and it was contributing to his already worsening headache which he did not at all appreciate. Not wanting to risk riding his motorcycle home, he called for a driver. Thanks to one of his Executive perks, there were all sorts of people at his disposal to do even the most mundane tasks he couldn't bother to do himself.
Chuuya mumbled an address as he sunk into the leather seat, legs spread while his gloved fingers rubbed at his temples. Despite his past as a street rat, he normally had a clean bill of health. These sorts of headaches only happen after an excessive use of ‘Tainted’ or whenever he'd be a victim of Dazai's fuckassery.
That being said, neither occured for the last week or so. It was all weird and quite frankly, Chuuya had no intention to delve any deeper as to why it was happening. He just hoped it'll go away by tomorrow since he was not looking forward to trying to do work with a blasting ache in his head.
The driver's gaze flitted to the rearview mirror, noticing how the man’s brows furrowed and his eyes screwed shut as if trying to block out the surrounding noise. He turned off the radio and slid the partition shut in hopes that'll relieve whatever it was he was going through.
Arriving at his complex, Chuuya gave the driver a short ‘thanks’ before heading inside. He just wanted to get to his penthouse as fast as possible so he can make coffee or tea or whatever is available in his kitchen and lay down.
He entered the code to his home, his fingers moving on instinct as he's done before numerous times.
The place was quiet as he expected, his hand blindly feeling the wall for the light switch since it was too dark for Chuuya to even see. The curtains were still drawn from the morning, usually he had a routine but of course his work had really been fucking him over nowadays. He actually can't remember when was the last time he made his bed.
And as if his day couldn't get any worse, Chuuya just realized he left his phone back at the office when he was in a rush to leave earlier. “Forget it.” he groaned to himself. Tossing his coat on the back of a chair, he made his way to the cabinet where he usually kept the coffee and tea.
Unfortunately he was out of tea, but he was abundantly grateful for his past self that happened to remember to buy coffee grounds the last time he went grocery shopping. With that, he went and made himself a simple black coffee. Chuuya can't even begin to try to look for milk or sugar.
When he first stepped into the place, it almost gave him whiplash. It had been a long time since he stepped foot into his own home back then, he even had a makeshift bedroom in the room next to his office due to how little he usually came home.
Everything was the same, albeit the colours here were lighter than he would've liked. He truly wondered if the other him and himself had any difference mentally. They even share the same code for their homes, he didn't need to guess or break his way in.
Nakahara had waited for some time now in the dark. He had left shortly after he got everything he needed from the computer and just waited for his other self to return. He would've left if Chuuya took too long since he didn't want to make Dazai wait but luckily he was actually quite early.
And so he watched, watched his other self enter his home and not even noticing his presence. He would've noticed if someone was in his house, but maybe that headache had something to do with it. He kept seeing the other him rubbing at his temple and grumbling, which was a sign. Though, if they were really similar, headaches often came whenever excessive use of Tainted happened, so he wondered if his other self had been in the situation that called for it.
Well, Nakahara wasn't complaining. It just made it all too easy for him to execute the first stages of his plan.
He observed from his hiding place.
Foolishly, the other Chuuya left his mug of coffee unattended on the kitchen island while he went upstairs for something and Nakahara emerged from his hiding spot, going straight to the unassuming steaming hot mug.
Fishing out a small plastic baggie that contained three little green pills from his coat pocket, he crushed them into a fine dust first before dumping the entire thing into the dark liquid and letting it dissolve.
There shouldn't be any smell, and the coffee was too dark to tell if there was anything that shouldn't be in there. Nakahara hoped three was enough, and not too much to accidentally kill the man. But then again, that wouldn't be so bad.
On the other hand, this was him he was talking about. He could handle three Rohypnol pills personally speaking, that would be enough to knock him out so he figured it should be to same for the other him.
After that, he went back to his hiding spot and kept watch. There was an itch at the back of his head that insisted he watch the other him ingest all of it and watch him fall unconscious, just to be sure. Nakahara didn't need his copy to disrupt his plans later.
The other him returned after 248 seconds, only passing by the kitchen island to swipe the mug and headed for the couch.
One sip.
Then two.
Five. Nakahara can see how his muscles began to relax, can see how Chuuya can't keep his eyes open anymore, probably chalking up the exhaustion due to work. Even though he wasn't the only Executive in the hierarchy, he imagined the workload was still significantly a lot.
Chuuya drank between shorter intervals now, likely the dehydration that he was suddenly feeling.
Half a mug left.
Later, empty.
All of it gone, the coffee laced with drugs now settled in his system. But Nakahara stayed hidden for longer. He waited until Chuuya’s breathing evened and his body went slack, hat covering his face.
He waited another 83 seconds before approaching the other him passed out on the couch, oblivious to his surroundings, thinking he was safe in the four walls of his home.
“I'll be needing this.” Nakahara gingerly picked up the hat and placed it on his own head, then he moved to unclasped the choker and wrapped it around his own neck, thus finally completing the look. It lacked something, yet it didn't bother him as much.
Giving the other redhead a last glance over his shoulder before he left the penthouse, unaware that someone with the same face and voice as him would be out and about in the city posing as him, the door closed with a click.
The sound doesn't stir Chuuya.