1:between the noose and gravity

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.

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