the answers I never asked for

Chuuya Nakahara didn’t like doubts.

Doubts were dangerous.

They distracted him in fights.

They weakened control.

And right now, doubts were everywhere.

He stood alone in his office, staring at the city through the tall windows of Port Mafia headquarters. The lights below blurred together, distant and cold.

Maybe he left because he cared too much.

The thought made Chuuya grit his teeth.

“No,” he muttered. “That’s stupid.”

Dazai Osamu wasn’t the type to run from feelings.

Was he?

Port Mafia Archives – Later

The archives were quiet. Too quiet.

Chuuya flipped through old mission records with growing irritation. Dates. Locations. Names.

And one detail that refused to go unnoticed.

Dazai Osamu’s name appeared everywhere.

Not just as an executor.

Not just as a strategist.

But always—

assigned to Chuuya Nakahara’s missions.

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

Page after page confirmed it.

High-risk operations. Ambushes. Missions where survival wasn’t guaranteed.

And Dazai had been there for all of them.

Watching. Calculating. Protecting.

Chuuya’s fingers tightened around the file.

“So that’s how it was,” he whispered.

A Conversation He Overheard (Years Ago)

“You’re overstepping.”

Chuuya remembered stopping outside Mori’s office, about to enter—then freezing.

Dazai’s voice drifted out calmly. “I’m ensuring success.”

“You’re ensuring his safety,” Mori replied coolly. “That’s not the same thing.”

Silence.

Then Dazai spoke again—quiet, firm.

“If he dies,” he said, “the mission doesn’t matter.”

At the time, Chuuya hadn’t understood.

Now, the memory made his chest ache.

Present – Armed Detective Agency

Dazai sat on the steps outside the Agency building, elbows resting on his knees, gaze distant.

“You’ve been distracted,” Kunikida said, adjusting his glasses. “That’s unlike you.”

Dazai smiled faintly. “Is it?”

“You’re making reckless decisions again.”

Dazai looked up at the sky.

He’s getting too close to the truth, he thought.

That was dangerous.

Because if Chuuya learned why Dazai left—

what he had been protecting him from—

He might hate Dazai forever.

And Dazai could live with hatred.

He couldn’t live with regret.

Back at the Port Mafia

Chuuya closed the final file slowly.

There it was.

The day Dazai Osamu left the Port Mafia.

No explanation.

No debrief.

No reason recorded.

But beneath it—

A sealed report.

Casualties: Zero.

Target protected.

Mission status: Incomplete.

Target: Chuuya Nakahara.

Chuuya’s breath hitched.

“…You left,” he whispered, “because of me?”

His mind raced back to every argument. Every insult. Every moment he thought Dazai didn’t care.

The truth hurt worse.

Night – Rooftop

Chuuya stood on a rooftop overlooking the city, wind tugging at his coat.

“You always stood here,” he murmured. “Watching everything.”

A familiar presence settled behind him.

“You noticed.”

Chuuya didn’t turn.

“You were protecting me,” Chuuya said quietly. “All along.”

Silence.

Then Dazai spoke, voice calm but heavy.

“I was protecting what mattered.”

Chuuya finally faced him.

“…Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dazai met his eyes—and smiled sadly.

“Because,” he said softly, “if you knew… you’d never forgive me.”

Chuuya’s heart pounded.

“For what?”

Dazai looked away.

“For loving you,” he thought.

But what he said was—

“For leaving.”

Ending (Quiet, Devastating Hook)

As Dazai stepped back into the shadows, Chuuya realized something terrifying.

The truth wasn’t that Dazai didn’t care.

The truth was—

He always had.

And Chuuya was finally ready to hear it.

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