Chapter Text
Chuuya was a biochemist. More specifically, a Forensic scientist, and the best damn one there ever was. His co-workers would protest against that and claim that they needed to bump his ego down a few notches but they weren’t the ones on the brink of a monumental discovery about the brain stem cells (because scientists only pretended like they knew what the fuck the brain was all about and to discover more would take a lot of time.)
Really, fuck studying the brain.
But just as every other biochemist knew, most days were bad days. And the past few days in particular had been a spectacular shitshow.
Chuuya’s motorcycle had blown up.
As in 'combusted-into-a-wall-of-flames-and-breaking-into-a-million-tiny-pieces' kind of blown up.
The one Albatross had given him for his sixteenth birthday.
He still didn’t know how or why, but he had been leaving for work and suddenly the motorcycle exploded and took half of his apartment complex's parking lot with it. He had lost that day of work and now had impressive burns on his arms where he had protected his face.
He had walked to work the next day as if nothing had happened.
The police had gotten involved, but they didn’t actually take notice until Chuuya’s boss, Mori, had noticed that things had been moved around in his office and the lab and called for a break-in. Of course, Chuuya was a prime suspect with the explosion, but his boss had vouched for him and he was released.
He never liked the damn police. He couldn’t ever imagine working as one of them.
Though as people tended to say, all bad things came in three.
And the third bad thing, worse than all of the others, had happened exactly a week after the blown-up motorcycle incident.
Chuuya’s insurance policy was good, but not even that could cover a motorcycle explosion that destroyed a whole parking lot so he ended up walking all the way to the station to hop on one of the overcrowded subways to get to work.
The Akutagawa’s made it a point to offer him a ride but he always rejected it for his own pride because even if his motorcycle was lost, he was not completely incapable.
He would soon regret that attitude because it was downpouring outside when he stepped out from under the platform. He was also ten minutes late as it stood. He could always just turn back and call in sick, but he had a feeling in his gut, the one all scientists had when they were about to reach a major breakthrough.
It would happen today, of course, if another freak accident didn’t happen and his whole lab didn't blow up.
He shivered at the prospect and knocked on the wood of the bench before ducking into the rain to dash two blocks to the lab building.
By the time he arrived at the doorstep, his white button-up and slacks had been drenched. As soon as he pushed past the double doors he reached for his lab coat hanging on a hook. There was only one left because even Tachihara decided to show up on time today.
Chuuya wrapped it around himself did not waste any time sorting out his hair, throwing it up in a hair tie, and kicking the water from his shoes to at least look like he was trying to make an effort.
There was no one at the reception desk to laugh at him so Chuuya would take that as a win as he shuffled past the sliding doors, leaving behind a wet trail of rainwater. As soon as he stepped into the lab area a towel was thrown at his face and Chuuya wiped the floors before wrapping the towel over his shoulders.
“Thanks,” he murmured to Gin, the only tolerable person at this entire lab, and she gave him a silent thumbs-up. It was rare that she ever talked, but that was perfectly fine with Chuuya.
They all worked in different areas, and just as Chuuya was about to pass another door to get to his, he was stopped by a familiar face.
“Chuuya!” Tachihara called, looking slightly panicked and sounding out of breath, “Good morning!”
Chuuya eyed him and slowly raised an eyebrow. Sure, Tachihara was always weird around him, but this was next level strange. “...What’s up?”
Tachihara stood at full height, blocking Chuuya’s view through the glass door, “How rude, no good morning back? You’re soaked, maybe you should go dry off more in the reception area?”
Chuuya narrowed his eyes.
Tachihara always acted like this when he was lying. He sucked at it, also meaning he was hiding something.
“Yeah” he answered, trying to dodge around his co-worker, who only moved in his way, “It’s raining buckets out there, but I’m not dragging a trail of water anymore, it’ll be fine.”
Even if he wasn’t dragging a trail of water, it was still as cold as ice in the well-conditioned facility.
Chuuya dodged to the left and Tachihara followed him.
“How are the injuries on your arms? Anyone else would have taken a break off after an accident like that one.” He asked in a last-ditch effort and Chuuya held up an arm, pulling back the wet material of his dress shirt to reveal the bandages.
“I’ll be fine.”
Chuuya felt satisfaction when Tachihara reached out to touch his arm because he had been planning this the whole time. When the other redhead got close he grabbed his arm and pulled, shouldering past him to walk through the doors.
“Wait-” Tachihara called, his voice drowned out when the door slid shut.
He had been trying to stall Chuuya from noticing something and he was going to find out just what-
Chuuya paused when his eyes landed on the interior of his lab.
He slowly rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing things right because he had been running on hours of sleep for the past few weeks.
Unfortunately, he was not hallucinating.
“What in the hell are you doing?” He called out once the shock subsided because these people had no right to be touching his equipment and invading his space. The people who did not look too notable stepped away from his lab equipment and looked at each other.
Chuuya did not care if he roughly pushed past them to put himself between them and his materials. He had been working on this for a year now. No way in hell would he allow them to come to harm.
He glared at the people, “You don’t even have any damn gloves on!”
They all looked down at their hands as if seeing them for the first time and Chuuya had only grown angrier in that time. He knew he tended to blow up easily, and apparently so did his damn motorcycle, but it was completely called for in this situation.
“Sir,” one of them attempted, some police officer who looked like he had eaten one too many donuts on his way to destroy Chuuya’s tools, “You need to step away from the lab and have a conversation with us.”
Chuuya crossed his arms and mustered them with an unimpressed look, “I saw you guys a few weeks ago, if you’re here to arrest me then I didn’t do shit-”
“There is no reason to get defensive Chuuya,” A familiar voice cut in and Chuuya’s eyes widened as his boss walked into the pristine room. “They are not here to arrest you nor do you have to clear your name. In fact, they are here to help you with your situation.”
Chuuya let his shoulders slump slightly and now that he wasn’t seeing all red, he noticed that his co-workers were watching from the open door that Mori had walked through. There was also someone else who had their eyes on him, someone who had been standing in the corner the whole time, yet Chuuya did notice him until just now. He simply watched the situation, staring at Chuuya and observing him like he was some kind of science experiment. Chuuya made it a point to glare at him before turning back to his boss.
“My ‘situation?’ Tell me what’s going on here.”
Mori moved swiftly as he always did to get to Chuuya’s side and easily leaned against a nearby counter. “You cannot tell me that your vehicle exploding is a completely normal thing?”
Chuuya shrugged. Sure he had been mad but worse could happen to a person. “No, why?”
“Well, we can deduce that the lab being tampered with and your recent string of bad luck, that someone is out to get you. You have a target on your back Chuuya, and when the police force noticed this, they called in the Armed detective agency. You are very lucky we caught this in time.”
Chuuya’s throat suddenly went dry and his stomach flopped as he eyed one of the empty flasks. “There's a damn target on my back?” He finally asked because the very thought was absurd. Stuff like this only happened in shitty action movies that involved… A lot of explosions.
Well shit.
“Why me?”
“Well, I personally do not know the details, the agency is being awfully closed-lipped,” Mori sent a cold smile to the man in the corner of the room, “but from what I can tell, it is because of your recent work on the brain.”
Chuuya snorted but even that fell flat, “That’s a weird thing to go after.”
Mori shrugged, “well, we do not know what goes through people's minds, now,” he turned his attention to the policemen, “you should kindly take a step out and wait in the lobby. Do not touch any more tools on your way out unless you want to personally disinfect them.”
His boss smiled in a fake way, and the men quickly scrambled out of the room past Chuuya’s co-workers because he always had a way of making people listen to him.
“So what about my work?” Chuuya asked, “Do I just keep working on it…”
“Absolutely not,” Mori shook his head, “you will be assigned a guard and stay in a secure location at all times until the situation is resolved, no coming into work until then.”
Chuuya felt the rage boil in his gut once again.
He clenched his teeth, “You can’t just keep me locked up-”
“Now I never said that,” Mori put a hand up, “Not to worry about your work, it will be the same as when you left it when you return and I will personally take care of transporting it to a secure location until then.”
This sucked ass.
But it looked like he wasn’t able to dodge this bullet because everyone knew that Mori’s word was final.
Chuuya turned to his co-workers who were still not so discreetly watching him, “You guys help him take my stuff,” he then turned back to his boss, “So-”
“I will take things from here,” a new voice announced, and Chuuya whipped his head to the man in the corner.
“Oh, so you speak?” He asked, mildly irritated that he had interrupted his question. Upon first glance, a person did not usually catch Chuuya’s eyes, but there was something so annoying about this man that it made him do a double-take. Maybe it was the bandages wrapped around his body like he had missed Halloween or the way his hair was messy in an effortless way.
“Yes, now you have no more time to interrogate your own boss because we cannot stay here for much longer,” the man said easily, dismissing Chuuya’s comment and pushing off from his place from the wall to outstretched his hand. “My name is Dazai Osamu and I will be the one watching over you for the foreseeable future.”
And just when Chuuya thought that things couldn’t get worse, they did.
He pointedly ignored the man's bandaged hand.
“Don’t say it like that,” he growled, “I can protect myself just fine without you.”
Dazai hummed thoughtfully, “Maybe so, but better safe than your severed head being found in a dumpster somewhere, correct.”
Oh, this man already agitated him.
Chuuya hoped this whole bodyguard shit didn’t last for much longer.
He spared one last look at the lab before heaving a sigh and turning to the door where his co-workers scrambled out of his path. He could sense Dazai shuffling behind him even if he made no noise, not even the sound of footfalls against the tile could be heard from him.
There was still no receptionist in the lobby, but it was a funny sight to see the policeman cowering in their seats. Dazai stared at them for a long moment before flapping a dismissive hand, “You men can return to the police station. Do not bother me unless I request it.”
Maybe the only thing Chuuya liked about this man was how he got the policemen to scramble outside and into their vehicles, which Chuuya hadn’t noticed until just now. He had been in such a rush that he hadn’t even paid them any attention.
Chuuya eyed the rain outside wearily. The storm hadn’t let up and he definitely did not feel like walking back home with some idiot. Though it looks like he wouldn’t have to.
“There is a car waiting outside,” Dazai said as if sensing Chuuya’s silent question. Then he looked down at him with possibly the most annoying look that Chuuya had ever seen on a person. “I heard that your motorcycle got blown up?”
“Well yeah, isn’t that why I'm here in the first place?” Chuuya grumbled, then took a step back out into the harsh elements with only a small glance back to the lab.
He would be back in no time, it didn’t even matter.
The car Dazai had ended up talking about had been his own. It looked well used and was an ugly brown color.
There was no way Chuuya was getting assassinated in that thing because not even he would be able to stare at the hideous car for too long.
“At least try to hide your judgment,” Dazai smirked and Chuuya didn’t have any more time to retort because he was too busy escaping the rain to slide into the passenger seat. The car's door almost fell off of its hinges when he shut it.
Another thing that Chuuya had learned that day was that his bodyguard sucked at driving.
He was so busy focusing on not dying that he didn’t notice all of the wrong turns Dazai was making. He had figured he would take him back to his apartment but instead, ten minutes later Dazai had come to a stop in a parking lot near an alleyway.
Chuuya opened his eyes that had been squeezed shut, just as his mouth was to hold in whatever dinner he had eaten last night. “What are we doing here?” He asked, releasing his white knuckle grip on the handle to get a better look.
They were in the bad side of Yokohama.
Chuuya used to live here, but now he doesn't visit often.
Dazai turned the key and the car’s engine made a dying noise before sputtering to turn off. Chuuya didn’t know how his motorcycle had blown up and this thing hadn’t.
“What do you think?” Dazai asked, that same teasing look on his face as he stepped out of the car. It was still raining, but only lightly, so Chuuya escaped the car and ignored the nausea bubbling in his gut as he unsteadily followed Dazai to a nearby alleyway.
He was never letting that idiot drive again, he was a threat to society.
Chuuya ditched the towel Gin had left him in the car but kept his lab coat, a comfortable weight on his shoulders as they came to a stop at the dead end.
Chuuya swallowed, “How do I know you’re not going to murder me back here?”
Dazai shrugged, “it is not my job, but there is only one way to find out.”
Chuuya had a feeling that Dazai was the only one in his line of work that joked about such topics, but even so, he watched as the tall man felt along the top of what Chuuya realized was a well-disguised doorway before nimble fingers grabbed a key and unlocked the door.
Seriously, some action movie shit.
“After you,” Dazai smirked as he held the door open, which led to stairs. Chuuya made sure to step on Dazai's toes before ascending down them. He had not known what he had been expecting in this strange room. A torture chamber? A meth lab?
Instead, it appeared to be a normal-looking apartment. Except for the fact that it was built into a basement. Something about it looked off-putting. The walls were blank and the furniture had no trinkets on it. Chuuya could not see into the other rooms but he would assume there were beds with no blankets on them.
Everything about it seemed impersonal. It made Chuuya’s skin itch.
“This is now your safehouse,” Dazai flipped on the lights and Chuuya blinked the dots away from his vision before turning to Dazai.
“I never agreed to this,” he protested immediately, “I’m not staying here, take me back to my apartment.”
“I regret to inform you that I cannot do that,” Dazai said easily, moving past Chuuya to check the cupboards and under the bland rug, supposedly looking for bugs or some tracking device.
Chuuya crossed his arms, “and why not?”
Dazai raised his head from where he had been under the table, “my my, for someone with a target on their back you are awfully demanding of your protector.”
Chuuya stayed firmly rooted in front of the stairs, “as I said, I can take care of myself just fine. The only reason I let you come along with me is because I don’t want to be fired, got it?”
“If I recall correctly, I am the one who drove you here,” Dazai added, just to be a jerk.
“If you would call that ‘driving,’” Chuuya murmured, “It looked like you were hoping for Jesus to take the wheel every time you merged into another lane.”
“That is precisely correct,” Dazai nodded and stood from his crouched position. Chuuya couldn’t tell if this idiot was joking or not. “I got my license at the age of twenty, after all.”
“Where can I get a new bodyguard?” Chuuya immediately replied.
“Well I am currently the only one available,” Dazai smiled in a fake way that slightly reminded him of Mori, “It looks like you're stuck with me!”
“Not unless I kill you first.”
“Not unless you get killed first.”
They both stared at each other for a long moment, neither backing down and if there was one thing Chuuya was good at, it was a battle of wits.
Dazai averted his gaze and looked unaffected as he slipped his phone from his pocket to text someone, and without looking up he spoke, “why is it that you wish to return back to your apartment so badly?”
Chuuya wanted to laugh because the question was a damn stupid one.
“First off I have an animal I have to feed. I’m not about to let my cat starve. Second off, this place is hard to look at, it makes me want to throw up, but on second thought I'm sure that that’s just your driving.”
Dazai did not bat an eye at the barrage of insults and pocketed his phone once again, “well, I have gained permission to watch you at your apartment from my boss, though that just means I have to keep a closer eye on you.”
Chuuya thought it was a fair trade-off, but then again, he would rather not be in the situation in the first place.
“Whatever, I have a feeling you’re going to be a bother either way.”
“You are such a nice person, Chuuya.”
And unfortunately, since Chuuya did not know the directions back to his place, he was forced to let Dazai drive again. But he had learned his lesson and immediately tightened his seatbelt and firmly placed his feet on the floorboard before their next trip.
He had not been sad to leave the ghostly safehouse.
Now if only he could ditch this equally as creepy bodyguard.
Dazai let out a low whistle as he pulled into the parking lot, eyeing the damage that had been done.
“Eyes on the road dammit!” Chuuya hissed, slightly fearful for his life as Dazai pulled into a parking space without even slowing down.
He was going to be killed by his own bodyguard with his luck.
And it was only now that Chuuya faced the destruction as they stepped out of the rickety car that it clicked in his mind. He shut the door and it made a questionable noise as he circled around to the driver's side, “My motorcycle blew up,” he stated simply.
“...Yes, a wonderful observation, Chuuya.”
Chuuya scoffed, “No, I meant it blew up. Did someone put a damn bomb in it?”
“Well I figured you would have caught onto that by now,” Dazai walked towards the building and Chuuya tried not to think about how this idiot knew his floor number once they loaded into the elevator.
“That thing was important to me,” He clenched his fist, and his fingernails would have dug unattractive crescents into his skin if he had not been wearing gloves. He had constantly worn them just so he wouldn’t pierce holes into his skin every time he got mad, but in trying to break that habit he had just ended up gaining another one by wearing the leather gloves all the time.
“Yes, we are unsure of these people's objective as of yet, but they start with taking things important to you, to place you in a vulnerable position, then attack you. Consider yourself lucky that you have no family members because they would have been killed by now.”
Chuuya dismissed the last comment.
“I don’t think fucking Geico covers assassination attempts.”
“Well, you can always lie about that.”
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Chuuya quickly escaped the confined space because he was starting to feel light-headed from even breathing the same air as that bastard.
Chuuya fumbled with the keys to his apartment before slotting it into the lock and pushing past the door. He breathed in familiar air, less sterile than the safe house had been. Mackerel turned the corner and gave Chuuya a cautious look, probably wondering why he had returned so early.
He bent down to run his fingertips lightly over the cat's backside, and he didn’t miss the glare Dazai gave the cat. Of course, he didn’t like animals.
“You can always leave, you know,” Chuuya offered, keys jingling in his hand as he pointed, “the doors right there.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I would love to leave this establishment. Let’s just hope this problem is solved soon, for both of our sakes,” Dazai answered and took a seat on the couch, looking as if he had belonged here.
Chuuya rose up and took a steadying breath before he could punch the man in the face.
“Yeah, whatever.”
The rest of the day went as said.
Chuuya pointedly ignoring Dazai as he read a book on the couch about recent research on nerve tissue in the brain.
Dazai trying to annoy him some more.
Chuuya tried not to yell at the idiot as he searched his whole house, turning pots and pans upside down as if an ant was the one that was trying to kill Chuuya.
“Do the dishes while you're at it,” Chuuya called over his shoulder as Dazai looked into the dishwasher for an invisible assailant.
“Only if I can shove Chuuya in here with the dirty dishes, he does not look too clean himself.”
“Says the one who looks fucking homeless,” Chuuya retorted and bookmarked his book. He couldn’t focus with this fly buzzing around his apartment. Though as he looked down at himself he quickly realized that Dazai hadn’t necessarily been wrong.
The rain earlier from his clothes had dried and now they were tattered and wrinkled. He was sure his hair in its ponytail had frizzed up, and he had never liked putting it up anyway, he did it for the sake of work.
He stood from the couch and hooked a finger under the hairband to tug it out. For some odd reason, Dazai’s eyes followed the movement from his place across the room. Chuuya ignored it.
“I’m taking a shower. Do me a favor and jump out that window while I'm gone.” Chuuya pointed to the window that replaced the wall, giving him a very clear view of Yokohama’s skyline. Dazai eyed the view with sudden interest.
“Perhaps later!”
Chuuya did not reply.
In fact, he did not talk to Dazai until he emerged from his room around dinner time. It had been enough time to let him take a nap then shower. His hair was dripping wet by the time he stepped out but it was in a much better way than the cold rain earlier.
The smell of takeout assaulted his nostrils and he adjusted the towel on his shoulders accordingly, ready to whack Dazai with it as he eyed the food on the coffee table. Dazai leaned back against the couch, feet kicked back on the table as he munched on the fried rice.
“Feet off of the damn table!” Chuuya whacked him with the towel until he obliged, then sat on the opposite end of the couch. Some rom-com was playing on the TV but Dazai didn’t look too interested in it.
“Why would you get this?” Chuuya scrunched his nose up in disgust.
“Of course Chuuya is a health freak,” Dazai whined as if he was in the wrong, “I guess I can eat his share then.”
“Go ahead, you look like you could use the extra food anyway, you’re a twig” Chuuya grumbled as he rose from the couch to the kitchen. There wasn’t much left in his kitchen, he hadn't made any trips to the store lately, especially with everything that had been going on, but he would need to soon.
He eyed the expiration date of the salad in the refrigerator and decided to risk it.
The lettuce wasn’t slimy and that was enough for him.
For once, Dazai had been the one to start a conversation. Chuuya would have rather stayed in silence and never talked to the idiot again, but he didn’t have much of a choice.
“You know, you are interesting compared to the other clients I have had,” Dazai called over his shoulder and into the kitchen where Chuuya had retreated to.
The question made Chuuya curious. “How so?”
“You aren’t afraid or clinging to me at every small noise coming from next door,” Dazai answered easily, gesturing to the ceiling and the loud sound of footsteps his upstairs neighbors always made. Chuuya and never really made it a point to meet his neighbors but the ones upstairs must have been fucking elephants or something.
“Like I would hold onto you. I can take care of myself you and your agency can fuck right off.” Chuuya huffed and dumped the rest of his salad into the trash can. Only half of it had been edible.
“It is such a shame, my last client had been a fine maiden named Sasaki. Why can you not be like that?” Dazai asked as he leaned his head back against the headrest to look at Chuuya upside down.
“Maybe because I am not a maiden and my name is not Sasaki.”
“Well I suppose that is a good thing since Sasaki had been hired to kill me and bomb half of Yokohama,” Dazai didn’t bat an eye and continued to slurp on his noodles. This man was either delusional or batshit crazy, Chuuya had concluded by the end of the night.
The sun outside had crawled down, barely visible below the other buildings, the stars and moon replacing it. Chuuya had always liked the pastel colors of the sunset, but that view had been ruined by Dazai taking up all of the space on his couch.
“When is this thing gonna be over anyway?” He asked shortly, swiping his book away from Dazai and his dirty fingers to place it back on his bookshelf.
“Well no one can tell for sure until we find out more about the organization after you,” Dazai shrugged and Chuuya felt a sinking feeling.
This was not going to be a short ordeal, was it?
“I’m guessing you can’t tell me more about them either? Classified information and that shit.”
“Yes, exactly. Now Chuuya is catching on,” Dazai smirked. He had finished his food long ago and also turned off the TV. Silence filled the apartment with only the distant sound of Chuuya’s upstairs neighbors and the humming of the generator. Much to his disgust, Chuuya wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact, having another presence in his apartment, no matter how annoying it may have been, was strangely soothing. He hadn’t ever lived with anyone, but he hadn’t realized how good company may be until now.
Of course, he would deny that to his death.
“Well,” Chuuya broke the silence, “I don’t have a guest bedroom, you can go sleep in your rickety ass car or something.”
Dazai ignored Chuuya and plopped down to lay on the couch. It was leather and probably uncomfortable, but it wasn’t that Chuuya cared about this idiot's comfort.
“I think I will settle down just fine right here,” Dazai patted the cushion. It was rock hard.
Chuuya sighed because this was the best he was going to get. He turned back to his room, and despite doing nothing that day, his body was weighted down with exhaustion. “Blankets are in the hall closet, use them or don’t, I don’t care.”
He closed his bedroom door and plopped down on his bed.
Hopefully when he woke up the next morning all of this would be some kind of twisted drunk dream and Dazai would be gone.
Unfortunately, as he had discovered earlier, this would not be a short ordeal.