humandispel | expiation inbox.

[Dazai sighs, suddenly tired. Stupid, useless, Chuuya. Does he not understand why he’s doing this in the first place?

(Does he not know how much this act has been draining him?)

But of course he does. Hence this conversation. Stupid, insightful Chuuya.]

Who knows if the Chuuya of their world would have called me boss anyway. [He masks his tiredness with a lazy smirk.] Or maybe it’s because Chuuya wants to call me that in the first place Really, if that’s your concern, nobody is forcing you to do that.

[Sure, sure, Chuuya’s feeling violent towards him. He’s used to this — familiar to this. He’d imagine the Dazai of the other world would pull rank to stop Chuuya from doing the same. The though forms a dark pool in the depths of his stomach.]

Atsushi-kun is my responsibility after all.

[Of course he knows, you shitty mackerel. The eyes are always a doorway into the soul; even one twisted beyond reason. Yet, no matter how sullied and broken it may be, it still shines resiliently back at Dazai. The message plain: there's no way in hell I'm letting you fall back into darkness. And he's going to do something about it.]

Shut up! [The actions of a wild beast are always predictable, as is the provoked violence that follows.

The quick flash and glittering bite of fangs in the form of a blade swipes precariously close towards the adams apple of Dazai's throat, pressing hard into it, hard enough to draw blood if the gloved hand that snatches hold of the front of his shirt will keep him still. For that grip digs and tears at that fabric like claws trying to burrow into his very heart.

He's avoided thinking about what Dazai wants to humorーthe two of them on the other side. He wants to keep it that way, but Dazai never makes his life easy, does he? He's glaring up at him now, wild and furious and tired.]

I'll never call you boss, Dazai. [He pulls himself up as close as he can right near Dazai's chin, breath hot against flesh and the steel that rests there. A threat and warning to read between the lines with what he rasps out after.] So stop playing at his fucked up role and figure out another way to do something about that shitty tiger.

[Is it falling back to darkness, or simply returning to where he came from? The shadows are as much of his home as it is for Chuuya’s. Is this not just the prodigal son, coming home, as prophesized this entire entire time? As if! He would never return to the Port Mafia, not in the way Mori likes it, not when he has a promise to fulfill and when he has found that lazing about in the sunlight has been much more fulfilling. The darkness is just too familiar, too boring.

But he needs that familiarity, you see. Needs to spread that familiarity to a certain someone too, unless he’d be lost to them forever.

He lets that knife dance dangerously close to his flesh, knowing that Chuuya would never be nice enough to give Dazai the death that he so much wants and desires. He’s not that nice, after all. This is more performative than anything, an outlet for Chuuya’s anger towards his actions.]

Could you think of a better way to do it then, Chuuya? [He lets out his name in angry singsong.] To pull out someone from that darkness to quickly would get blinded by the light. Did you really think I would take on this detestable role if there was any better, easier solution for me to take? I’m not gonna use force to deal with Atsushi-kun, he doesn’t respond well to it.

[He’s not like Akutagawa.]

What makes you think any of this was ever gonna be easy when you're behind it all to begin with?

[There's another question posed thereーwhy do you feel responsible for the actions of the other you, idiot? Through all the anger that thought continues to stoke, he pushes the blade a little too hard in the moment. The entire thing reeks of selfishness and one-sided desires.

If Dazai doesn't lean back, there's a promise of blood and a need for new bandages to follow. He won't be the least bit sorry for it. He feels he's letting him off too easily for even pulling this stunt, no matter if he thinks he'd never regress. Maybe that's why he grips the front of his shirtー so his ability can't be an option. So he won't do something he'll later regret by playing further into his hands. He probably already is, knowing this asshole.]

Yeah, I think you would, Dazai. [Angry singsong is met with the hallow notes of his own name in return.] There's more to it than you're lettin' on. Always is the case with you. I just haven't figured it out yet, that and...

[His eyes narrow, sharp with ever-growing suspicion.]

Don't tell me you need me to spell it out for you that badly.

[Because even if it’s another him, it’s still Dazai isn’t it? And perhaps given other circumstances, other motivations —

like the chance for someone like Odasaku to keep living

— he would have done the same things as that other him.

Dazai is used to Chuuya’s jabs, but he hates suffering and pain, so he does lean back to avoid the next hit. He remains smug, even with his shirt pulled like this, just so he has to lean his head down and meet his partner eye to eye.

He knows what’s going to happen next. He always does. But that’s why he loves to prod the hornet’s nest.]

Then spit it out, Chuuya. [He drawls out that name, as always.] Use your words! Being cryptic doesn’t suit you at all.

[That's my job.]

[A part of him knows this and that part of him rages and seethes at the idea of using others to better his own desires. It's selfish, most of all undeserved because everyone deserves the power to choose for themselves.]

When that brat comes to you, stop lying to him. Most of all stop tryin' to pull strings to influence his choices.

It's bad enough to know there's another you out there. [He grits his teeth, that dark gaze flashing with torment. A memory of the "original" Chuuya and the shit Verlaine pulled serves as kindling to this fire.] Now they gotta deal with your shit too? I don't think so.

Let 'em figure it out. I don't care if you don't like where he ends upー he's his own person. Whether you see it that way or not.

Mm. Maybe I won't.

[He never had any plans to lie when the truth comes out, anyway. As long as Atsushi manages to figure it out himself.

Chuuya, however. Something malicious forms at the tip of his tongue. He really doesn't need to, but he's already pissed off at the other intruding into his business like this. Because this is just how they function, don't they? One can never get rid of the other.]

I think you're projecting too hard over here, Chuuya. What, are you jealous because your own mentor never gave you a choice?

[Cruel, cruel. Dazai might have turned traitor, exchanged his coat for a lighter one, but he has never really changed.]

Or are you afraid I would make him cut ties with everything else, much like what he did for you?

"Projecting"? [His tone drops into something low, a harsh, throaty chuckle that lusts for violence following.] Jealous? That's rich comin' from you!!

[His lips pull up into something wild and his eyes flash with a lust for violence. Dazai knows the right buttons to push. He doesn't care in the moments that follow. The rest is instinctive. He acts. Dazai's in the middle of not shutting the fuck up, and Chuuya's already throwing his head forward to slam right into his face.]

[Oh, this is easier to deal with. More familiar. Exactly what a certain someone needs, not these prying questions that stick too close to his soul. The impact comes quick and painful, but Dazai continues to laugh regardless. He knows he has won.]

[Dazai isn't the only one laughing. It lacks mirth and joy. Instead, it fringes upon madness and frustration. Dazai wants him to be a monster. It's easy and violentー everything a certain bastard projects that he needs. But they know that's not true. If it were, why are Chuuya's hands back in his pockets?

There's only a sweeping kick into Dazai's side that follows. A choice. His choice!]

[He takes it in full - maybe because he deserves it, maybe because he doesn't feel like dodging. Either way, this is Chuuya, and he's used to parrying his blows. Even if the impact does make him cough: he is the strongest martial artist of the Port Mafia, after all.]

Yeah, that's right. [He's still laughing, inky and murky and everything inhuman about him.] You've always been like this.

[He doesn't specify if Chuuya is a monster or a human.]

So have you!

[The grin he grants in response is wild. Natural for such a violent being. Dazai may cough, but he knows his kick is parried the moment it lands. The thrill from it carrie's into his eyes because there's nothing quite like fighting someone who can handle all that he is at his core. And with it a conveyance of trust in knowing his piece of shit of a partner in this dance of violence.

He's in step with him, knows the kick that sweeps out next might not knock Dazai's legs out from underneath him. What's left is to simply slam into him. Pin him down. There's all the frustration and passion to come with it. If Dazai wants it this wayー fine. They'll make an exchange in violence. The first strike is for that shitty tiger. This one is for coattails. The one actively struggling in the light just as much as you, Dazai.]

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