The air twisted.

Dazai Osamu felt it before he saw it—the familiar pressure, the pull that bent space itself. Gravity distorted the battlefield, cracking the concrete beneath his feet.

He sighed.

“So troublesome,” he muttered, hands slipping casually into his coat pockets. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be you.”

A shadow landed in front of him with explosive force.

Dust rose. The ground shattered.

When it settled, Chuuya Nakahara stood there, hat low over burning blue eyes, black coat fluttering like a storm warning.

Silence.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped.

Then—

“So you’re alive,” Chuuya said coldly. “What a disappointment.”

Dazai smiled.

The same easy, mocking smile everyone knew.

“Wow, Chuuya. Is that how you greet an old partner?” he said lightly. “No hug? I’m hurt.”

Chuuya’s hand clenched.

Partner.

The word burned.

“You disappeared,” Chuuya snapped, gravity surging violently around him. “You betrayed the Port Mafia. You betrayed me.”

Dazai didn’t answer right away.

For a moment—just a moment—his smile wavered.

“I left,” he said softly. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Chuuya lunged forward, grabbing Dazai by the collar and slamming him into a broken wall. “You vanished without a word! Do you have any idea—?!”

Chuuya stopped.

Because Dazai wasn’t resisting.

He never did.

Dazai met his eyes, calm and distant, as if gravity itself couldn’t reach him.

“Still angry,” Dazai murmured. “I was wondering if time had dulled it.”

Chuuya released him with a harsh shove.

“Tch.” He turned away, jaw tight. “Don’t act like you care.”

Dazai watched his back.

If only you knew.

Years Earlier

The Port Mafia headquarters smelled like iron and rain.

A young Dazai leaned against the railing, bandages freshly wrapped, watching a smaller boy below.

Chuuya Nakahara—newly recruited, fierce, glowing with power he barely understood.

He fought like fire.

Every punch, every step—raw, reckless, alive.

Dazai’s eyes followed him silently.

“Why do you stare so much?” Mori’s voice drifted beside him.

Dazai didn’t look away.

“He’s interesting,” Dazai said.

That was the first lie.

The truth was quieter.

I want to protect him.

Dazai never said it.

He learned early that wanting things was dangerous.

Present

The mission had already spiraled into chaos.

Abilities clashed. Sirens screamed in the distance. Yet Dazai’s attention never left Chuuya.

Still strong.

Still reckless.

Still—

Beautiful.

Chuuya moved fast, gravity amplifying every strike. Dazai dodged easily, calculating every step. He could end this fight whenever he wanted.

But he didn’t.

A blade flashed too close.

Blood stained Dazai’s sleeve.

Chuuya froze.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted. “You could’ve avoided that!”

Dazai blinked.

Then laughed.

“Oops.”

Chuuya’s anger cracked—just slightly—revealing something else underneath.

Fear.

“Idiot,” Chuuya hissed. “You always do this. You never care if you die.”

Dazai looked at him then.

Really looked.

“I do,” he said quietly.

Chuuya stiffened.

“What…?”

“I care,” Dazai repeated, voice barely above the noise. “More than you think.”

For a second, Chuuya didn’t know what to say.

Then he scoffed. “Don’t mess with me.”

Dazai smiled again—but this time, it was sad.

“I never told you,” he thought, watching Chuuya turn away once more.

“I never could.”

Because loving Chuuya Nakahara was the one thing Dazai Osamu believed he didn’t deserve.

And leaving him—

Was the cruelest form of protection he knew.

Chuuya Nakahara stood still long after the battlefield had emptied.

Broken concrete lay scattered around him, the air still trembling faintly with the aftereffects of clashing abilities. Sirens wailed somewhere far away, but none of it mattered. The only thing echoing in his mind was a familiar voice—light, teasing, and unbearably distant.

I care. More than you think.

“…Liar,” Chuuya muttered.

Rain began to fall, soft at first, then heavier, soaking into his hair and darkening his coat. He didn’t move to shield himself. Gravity stirred restlessly beneath his skin, reacting to emotions he refused to acknowledge.

Dazai Osamu was gone again.

Just like before.

Chuuya clenched his fists.

Why did he always do this? Show up without warning, turn everything upside down, then disappear like he had never existed at all?

“You damn coward,” Chuuya whispered through gritted teeth.

And yet—

when Dazai had been injured, Chuuya hadn’t hesitated.

His body had moved on instinct.

That realization made his chest tighten painfully.

Flashback – Port Mafia Days

The hallway lights flickered faintly as the mission ended. Blood stained the floor, the air thick with the smell of iron.

“You’re reckless,” Dazai said lazily, leaning against the wall.

Chuuya scoffed, adjusting his gloves. “You’re one to talk.”

Dazai hummed, eyes trailing over Chuuya in quiet assessment. There was something strange in his gaze—something Chuuya hadn’t understood back then.

Before Chuuya could question it, Dazai stepped closer and brushed dirt off Chuuya’s shoulder with unexpected gentleness.

“Try not to die,” Dazai said lightly.

Chuuya froze. “Huh?”

Dazai had already turned away, hands in his pockets, smile firmly back in place.

Chuuya remembered staring after him, annoyed—and oddly unsettled.

Present

Chuuya shook his head sharply, forcing the memory away.

“Tch. Don’t get sentimental now,” he muttered.

But the memories kept coming.

Moments he had dismissed. Words he had ignored. Silences that now felt too heavy to be meaningless.

He began walking back toward Port Mafia headquarters, footsteps echoing through the rain-soaked streets. Each step felt heavier than the last.

Port Mafia Headquarters

The corridors were quiet when Chuuya entered, the familiar darkness offering no comfort tonight.

“Executive Nakahara,” a subordinate said cautiously. “Are you injured?”

“I said I’m fine,” Chuuya snapped, brushing past.

Physically, he was unharmed.

Emotionally, he felt like gravity itself was crushing him from the inside.

As he passed a certain hallway, his steps slowed.

Dazai used to wait here.

Always pretending he was bored. Always pretending he wasn’t waiting at all.

Chuuya turned away sharply.

“…Idiot,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure who he was talking about anymore.

Elsewhere – Armed Detective Agency

Dazai Osamu lay on a medical cot, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“You let yourself get hurt,” Kunikida said sharply, arms crossed. “Again.”

Dazai smiled faintly. “Did I?”

“That wasn’t a joke!”

Dazai didn’t answer. His thoughts were far away—back on the battlefield, back to the moment Chuuya had grabbed him, furious and terrified all at once.

You still care, Dazai thought quietly.

That knowledge hurt more than the wound.

If Chuuya still cared…

then leaving him behind had been the cruelest thing Dazai had ever done.

But staying would have been worse.

Dazai closed his eyes.

Hate me, he thought. That’s safer.

Another Memory – Childhood

Rain poured relentlessly over the city.

A younger Chuuya stood alone in an alley, bruised and furious, fists clenched as tears mixed with rain.

“You’re loud when you’re upset,” a voice said.

Chuuya turned sharply. “Who—?”

A boy wrapped in bandages stood there, holding an umbrella—not over himself, but over Chuuya.

“…You’ll catch a cold,” the boy said quietly.

Chuuya stared at him. “Why do you care?”

The boy smiled, small and almost sad.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I just didn’t want you to be alone.”

Present

Chuuya pressed his fingers to his forehead, breath uneven.

“…Why now?” he whispered.

Why did all these memories surface after Dazai returned?

His phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

You still fight the same way. Reckless.

Chuuya’s heart skipped.

Another message followed almost immediately.

If you die, I won’t forgive you.

Chuuya stared at the screen, rain dripping from his hair onto the floor.

“…Dazai,” he breathed.

His grip tightened.

“Then stop leaving!” he shouted into the empty room.

No reply came.

Only silence—and the unbearable truth settling deep in his chest.

The order came at dawn.

Chuuya Nakahara read the message twice, jaw tightening with every word.

Joint operation. Armed Detective Agency involvement confirmed.

Objective: eliminate the ability user threatening Yokohama’s underground.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chuuya muttered.

As if summoned by his irritation, the name burned itself into his thoughts.

Dazai Osamu.

There was no mistaking it. The mission wasn’t an accident. Someone—somewhere—had decided it was time to put them in the same space again.

And Chuuya hated how fast his heart reacted.

Abandoned District – Later That Night

The warehouse loomed like a hollow ribcage against the dark sky. Broken windows stared down at the ground like empty eyes.

Chuuya landed silently on the rooftop, gravity cushioning his descent. He straightened, senses sharp, irritation simmering just below the surface.

“Long time no see, Chuuya~”

That voice.

Chuuya didn’t turn.

“Say that again,” he growled, “and I’ll crush you into the pavement.”

Dazai stood a few steps behind him, hands raised in mock surrender, bandages fluttering lightly in the wind.

“So hostile,” Dazai said cheerfully. “I thought we’d matured.”

Chuuya finally faced him.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Moonlight cut across Dazai’s face, highlighting the familiar curve of his smile—and the shadows beneath his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“You look worse,” Chuuya said flatly.

Dazai blinked, then laughed. “Wow. You noticed.”

“Tch.”

Chuuya turned away. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t want to work with you.”

“And yet,” Dazai replied calmly, “here we are.”

The Mission Begins

The enemy ability activated without warning.

The air warped violently, pressure crashing down like an invisible tide. Chuuya staggered, boots scraping against concrete.

“What the—?!”

A wave of force slammed toward him.

Before he could react, a hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him back.

“Careful,” Dazai said quietly.

The attack missed by inches.

Chuuya stared at their joined hands.

Dazai released him immediately, as if burned.

“…Don’t touch me without warning,” Chuuya snapped.

Dazai’s smile softened—just a little. “You used to say that too.”

Chuuya clenched his teeth.

Mid-Battle: Old Instincts

The enemy was strong. Stronger than expected.

They moved separately at first—unwilling, cautious—but slowly, without discussion, something familiar happened.

Dazai predicted the attacks.

Chuuya countered with precision.

“Left!” Dazai shouted.

Chuuya didn’t question it. He moved instantly, gravity flaring as he smashed through the incoming force.

“Don’t slow down!” Chuuya yelled back.

Dazai was already there—nullifying, disabling, guiding.

It was seamless.

Terrifyingly so.

For a brief moment, it felt like the past had never broken.

The Close Call

The enemy lashed out wildly, energy spiraling out of control.

“Chuuya—!”

Too late.

The force slammed into Chuuya’s side, sending him crashing into a pillar. Pain exploded through his ribs.

Before Chuuya could even curse, Dazai was there.

Kneeling. Hands shaking as they pressed against Chuuya’s shoulder.

“Idiot,” Dazai whispered. “Why do you always push yourself like this?”

Chuuya stared up at him, stunned.

“…You’re panicking,” Chuuya said hoarsely.

Dazai froze.

For a split second, the mask slipped.

Fear. Raw and unguarded.

Then Dazai stood abruptly, turning away. “You’ll live. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Chuuya grabbed his sleeve.

“Then why,” Chuuya demanded, voice low, “do you look like you’re about to fall apart?”

Silence.

The enemy retreated, sensing something dangerous—but not the kind they could fight.

Aftermath

The mission ended successfully.

Too successfully.

They stood on opposite sides of the warehouse, tension thick enough to suffocate.

“You never answered me,” Chuuya said quietly.

Dazai didn’t look at him.

“Some things,” Dazai replied, voice calm but tired, “are better left untouched.”

Chuuya laughed bitterly. “You always say that.”

He stepped closer.

“But you keep coming back.”

Dazai finally met his eyes.

And for the first time, he didn’t smile.

Ending (Hook)

As they parted ways, Chuuya called out:

“If you disappear again—”

Dazai paused.

“I won’t chase you.”

Dazai’s shoulders stiffened.

Chuuya continued, voice steady but heavy:

“…But I won’t forgive you either.”

Dazai didn’t turn around.

“I know,” he said softly.

And somehow—

That hurt more than anger ever could.