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Chapter Text

Everything had started five years ago, when Chuuya and Dazai were eighteen. Oda had just died, and the only thing Dazai did was drink like a madman; similarly, Chuuya drowned himself in alcohol and his favorite thing—expensive wine—to mark the third anniversary of The Flags' deaths. They had been each other’s confidants, sharing countless memories that were both frustrating and comforting, but when their eyes, noses, and mouths were that close to one another, it was as if they could read each other's souls.

That evening had been one of those magical days that would never repeat itself and would eventually be erased from everyone’s memory. Dazai and Chuuya had been together, and in the drunken haze of pleasure, they had made love like lunatics. Chuuya’s milk-white delicate skin and Dazai’s shield-like body were among the intoxicating triggers that had started it all. It was supposed to be the beginning of something, but Dazai leaving the Port Mafia the very next evening and abandoning Chuuya halfway turned it into the end of everything.

“Dazai? He’s gone.” Kouyou’s voice remained composed with the grace it was meant to carry as she gently lifted her green tea from the table. “He betrayed us and became a member of the Armed Detective Agency. No one can stop him anymore, it seems this is where it all ends. I truly don’t understand what goes on in his head sometimes, and…”

As Kouyou continued talking, Chuuya simply stared at the floor; at some point, he couldn’t even listen to her anymore. The only thing he could focus on was how Dazai had used him like a toy and then ran away. His fists were clenched at his sides, and tears filled with sapphire-blue disappointment and rage threatened to spill from his eyes—but he straightened his posture and refused to mourn it. He was never good at holding fragile emotions. After everything he’d lived through, crying over something this small was laughable. He hoped this would be the smallest misfortune he’d ever face.

But nothing went the way he hoped.

In the early days of his pregnancy, he made sure no one suspected a thing. He hid it from everyone in the best way possible. No one except Kouyou would ever know that Chuuya was pregnant with Dazai’s child. It would have been disastrous—for both the child and Chuuya’s reputation. After all, he was a leader of the mafia. The embodiment of gravity manipulation and Arahabaki itself. Someone like his being violated so easily was laughable and disgusting. Maybe that’s exactly why Chuuya hated Osamu Dazai. One day, he would kill him with his own hands.

Chuuya was, most of the time, smart and cunning. He had trouble making rational decisions, but emotionally, you’d never see his fall apart. He always stood tall and struck fear into his enemies. Especially because Chuuya wasn’t someone who could trust easily. Even in the worst situations, he wouldn’t rely on anyone—he always fulfilled his needs and protected himself. No matter who stood in front of him, he kept his courage and knew nothing of fear.

But today, five years later… Chuuya truly felt what fear was.

Hikari Dazai… His daughter Hikari had been kidnapped.

“HIKARI!” Chuuya shouted as he ran through his entire neighborhood, wearing nothing but a white T-shirt, black shorts, and a single slipper on one foot. “HIKARI-CHAN! DADDY’S HERE! HIKARI!—” Chuuya couldn’t control his panic. How could a parent who had lost their child possibly stay calm? His body was covered in dust and dirt; he didn’t even know how many streets he’d searched.

His body was falling apart, his long red hair disheveled, and since he had lost his other slipper, he was running barefoot through the streets. “HIKARI-CHAN!!” His voice was hoarse from screaming. He needed to see his daughter, he had to find her. Chuuya was asking every stranger he came across about his child. “Brown hair, brown eyes— A girl about this tall, have you seen her?..” But he couldn’t get a single clear answer.

That evening, he didn’t find Hikari.

—

As I mentioned before, Chuuya never relied on anyone—especially not on his enemies. The PM and ADA had been rival organizations for years: one harboring ruthless mafia assassins, the other filled with brilliant detectives. A clash of brute force versus intellect that almost always ended in the ADA’s favor.

And this time, Chuuya had no idea what he was supposed to do.

He hadn’t slept all night, and by now he was completely wrecked from wandering the streets. His bare feet were visibly covered in blood, dust, and dirt. The loose black shorts that reached his knees exposed his bruised and scraped skinny legs. His once-white T-shirt was now grimy, and his long red hair was an absolute mess. His blue eyes were empty, staring blankly in a single direction… toward the floor where the Armed Detective Agency’s office was located.

He would’ve liked to think this through a few more times before walking in, but right now he didn’t have the mental capacity for a single thought. Entering the home base of a rival organization, he looked more like an exhausted customer than an enemy. Quiet, devastated, and nothing like the Chuuya Nakahara he was supposed to be. He had no trace of his usual ridiculous hat, coat, neck belt, or that cocky smirk. There was only a father who had been looking for his daughter nonstop for the last seventeen hours.

The agency was calm today. Yosano had just exited the infirmary, handing Junichiro a list of items to pick up. Ranpo was noisily munching on candy and cheap snacks at his desk. Atsushi was working with everything he had, filling out both his own reports and Dazai’s, hunched over the computer. Kenji was telling a story about his village, while Kyoka listened next to him, silent and focused. Everything was normal—until the front door opened. When the disheveled boy stepped inside and raised his head, revealing those blue eyes, everyone froze in shock.

What the hell was the executive of the Port Mafia, Chuuya Nakahara, doing in the ADA office looking like that?

“You… You’re the one with the gravity manipulation ability, aren’t you?” Kunikida stepped toward Chuuya, who still stood like a ghost in the doorway, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You… What happened to you?—”

Suddenly, Chuuya grabbed Kunikida’s hand in a swift motion. It wasn’t a strong grip—he didn’t even have enough energy left to hurt him if he tried. “Where is he?” His voice was breathless and impatient. “Your member with the supreme detective ability!? WHERE IS HE!?—”

“Ranpo Edogawa,” came the simple answer, as Ranpo popped a piece of candy into his mouth from the bag beside him. “Looks like you’ve been searching for someone all day.” His tone was calm, like he was commenting on the weather. Just like always, he wasn’t judging anything.

For a moment, Chuuya lost that cold and threatening expression from earlier. He needed this man. After all, he had a gift for solving everything in an instant—and right now, all Chuuya wanted was to know where his daughter was. Without the Port Mafia, finding her alone was impossible. He was already drowning in so much fear and helplessness that he couldn’t think anymore. He needed Ranpo. “I…” Chuuya’s voice came out in a humiliating softness. He had already taken a step closer to the desk where Ranpo sat, one leg casually crossed over the other.

He didn’t hesitate for even a second—he dropped to his knees. “Help me.” Chuuya’s plea was clear. “I’ll give you anything—my money, my life, anything you ask from me—please help me.”

And that… was unexpected.

Ranpo had no idea what to say at the sight in front of him. Atsushi was already casting pitying glances at Chuuya; whether he wanted to or not, he genuinely felt sorry for the boy. Especially seeing him barefoot, body covered in dirt, begging for help from the organization he’d always been enemies with, offering his life in exchange. Yosano had a hand over her mouth as she watched what unfolded. Kenji wanted to help Chuuya—what the boy was or where he came from didn’t matter to him one bit. Even Junichiro, who had been on his way out the door, froze and waited to see what would happen next.

“Hey, Sushi-kun! What’s with the silence, huh?” Dazai walked in with an apple in hand, speaking in his usual indifferent tone—but the moment he looked toward the direction everyone was staring at, he couldn’t stop the apple from slipping out of his hand.

In all the seven years he had worked alongside Chuuya, he had never seen him like this. Head bowed, desperate, and in ruins. Dazai took in the sight of Chuuya on his knees, bare feet caked in dirt, wearing hastily thrown-on loose black shorts and a white T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, exposing his right collarbone. The inability to grasp what was happening left Dazai momentarily stunned.

And Dazai never got stunned.

Until Chuuya’s blue eyes finally opened and met his own, Dazai had to wonder if he ever truly knew him at all.

“Chuuya..?”

“Osamu.”

Chapter Text

The sound of Dazai’s apple hitting the ground caught Chuuya’s attention, and he lifted his gaze from the floor. The moment his eyes met Dazai’s face, a storm of fury, frustration, and helplessness surged within him. His breath quickened as he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Dazai… bastard.”

Without any warning, he lunged forward, grabbed Dazai by the collar of his shirt, and shoved him toward the nearest wall. Using every ounce of strength left in him, he slammed Dazai against it and pinned him there.

“What?—Chuuya! Have you lost your mind?” Dazai spoke while prying Chuuya’s frail hands from his collar. It had been five years since he’d last seen him, but he was still the same Chuuya he remembered. “Are you drunk or something? What’s the reason for this stupidity?” he mocked.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Chuuya roared, tightening his grip on Dazai’s shirt. His hand shot upward, seizing a fistful of Dazai’s hair and forcing his head back against the wall. Chuuya’s body trembled as he leaned in, eyes blazing with rage and desperation. “Don’t you dare act like you don’t know anything. Don’t you dare mock me, you bastard. No one knows you better than I do. No one knows what kind of demon you are better than I do.”

Yosano and Kunikida stepped forward, pulling Chuuya away from Dazai. He was already in shambles, looking as if he could collapse at any moment. Even with Yosano and Kenji holding him up, Chuuya could barely stand. He began sobbing uncontrollably. “You kidnapped Hikari!! YOU KIDNAPPED HER TO PUNISH ME! GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER! WHERE IS SHE, HUH!? DID YOU AND YOUR USELESS FRIENDS TAKE HER HOSTAGE!? I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!!!”

Dazai’s eyes widened in sudden realization. The weight of Chuuya’s sobs left him so stunned he couldn’t put it into words. He had known Chuuya since he was nearly fifteen years old, and in all that time, he had only ever seen him with his head held high and a smile on his face—even in his most desperate moments. This was the same boy who always taunted his enemies, yet now he was crying like a madman. But his words… were stranger than anything Dazai had ever expected to hear from him.

Give me back my daughter.

Dazai couldn’t believe it. It felt like a nightmare he wouldn’t be waking up from anytime soon. Seeing Chuuya—normally proud and strong—reduced to a desperate mess made Dazai’s head ache. There was definitely a problem here he couldn’t make sense of. “Your daughter?”

“YES! MY DAUGHTER!” Chuuya struck his own chest with his hand. “MY daughter, MINE! ONLY MINE! And you took her from me! GIVE HER BACK OR YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M CAPABLE OF—” Chuuya was just about to pull off his glove when Ranpo grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“He didn’t kidnap Hikari.” Ranpo adjusted his glasses on his nose and lifted his head toward Chuuya. “In fact… Hikari was never kidnapped. Most likely, she got bored waiting for you at home, went out, and then lost her way.” Ranpo released Chuuya’s wrist. “Calm down.”

Chuuya was breathless, the crimson glow in his body subsiding for just a moment. “Then where is she?” he asked, his body trembling with the exhaustion of the day. His weak legs seemed barely able to carry him any longer. “Where is my daughter?..” Chuuya took another step, and Yosano and Kunikida withdrew their hands from his back, letting him move on his own. He turned toward Ranpo like an attacker, but instead of striking, he simply grabbed Ranpo’s hands and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Please… please tell me, I’ll do everything you say.”

Ranpo opened his eyes and glanced briefly between Chuuya and Dazai. “Hikari must have wanted to find out who her father is, and she’s heading there right now.” He pointed his index finger toward the door. “This very moment.”

Chuuya took a deep breath, and just then, the office door opened, making everyone turn around. Standing in the doorway was Kirako Haruno, and right beside her was a little girl holding her hand. Her hair was the same shade of brown as Dazai’s. Her nose, face shape, jawline—in fact, her whole face—was a perfect echo of Dazai’s. Kirako smiled softly at the others. “I found this young lady right outside the door, and I think she wants to see you, Dazai-san.” she said in her usual gentle, cheerful, and affectionate voice.

Oh.

Shit.

And that was the final blow for Chuuya. His legs could no longer support his weight, and as his eyes rolled back, he lost control of them and fainted. Kenji, who had been right behind him, easily caught him.

“CHUUYA!” Dazai moved toward the unconscious boy. But right behind him, the girl stood frozen, staring fearfully at the chaos in front of her—and Dazai, perhaps for the first time, didn’t know what to do. He felt his anger rise. Chuuya had hidden his daughter from him for five whole years. Five years. Dazai couldn’t stop his hands from curling into fists. He had never imagined Chuuya could be this disgusting.

Yosano crouched down and checked Chuuya’s vital signs. “He’s just fainted. Clearly, he hasn’t been sleeping for a long time and has been running on his feet… It’s completely normal for his body to want to shut down from the shock.” After speaking, Yosano turned to Hikari, who was still frozen at the doorway, and reassured her with understanding. “He’s fine… Don’t worry about your father, he’s just resting a little.”

Hikari’s eyes welled up even more as she hugged the stuffed dog in her arms tightly. While the rest of the team watched her, Chuuya was being taken to the medical ward. Dazai’s gaze, contrary to what they might have expected, was hard—almost as if something about the situation unsettled him. He didn’t say a word for several minutes, then simply walked away.

“Dazai-san—?” Atsushi tried to stop him, but by the time he turned around, the man was already gone.

“Let’s leave him alone for now,” Kunikida said, placing a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder. “It would be better for us to focus on Hikari and her mother(?) for the moment. Dazai can be spoiled and sarcastic most of the time, but when it comes to serious matters, he deals with his problems in silence. He knows what he’s doing.”

“So… what do we do?” Atsushi asked, a hint of concern in his eyes for Hikari. The little girl was the most innocent person in all of this—she had only wanted to find her father. But that had sparked a whole chain of other chaos. Now, he was watching the small child, who was sitting in Junichiro’s arms.

Junichiro lightly shook a keychain in his hand to distract her. Naomi used to get completely absorbed in little things like this when she was younger. “Do you like it, Hikari?” he asked gently. Beside him, Kirako was fixing Hikari’s hair and quietly comforting the tearful child.

“I don’t think this will cause any real problem for us,” Yosano said suddenly from behind Atsushi and Kunikida, making both of them jump. “Let’s just do what we can. Chuuya’s in the medical room right now—he’s fine. Ranpo is explaining the situation to the President. From here on out, it’s entirely a matter between Chuuya and Dazai, and it doesn’t concern us.”

Kunikida composed himself before speaking. “Yes, Yosano’s right. Besides, he’s a powerful—very powerful—member of the Port Mafia. If Dazai wants to risk making him angry, that’s his decision. If he decides to keep Hikari with him, there’s nothing we can do about it.” His tone carried a hint of sorrow, and Atsushi and Yosano exchanged a puzzled glance.

“Wait… since when did you think we were talking about the child?” Atsushi blinked, turning to Kunikida. “I thought this was about the conflict between the PM and the ADA.” He tilted his head slightly.

Yosano let out a weary sigh. “Clearly, he’s already formed an attachment to her.” But when she turned toward Kunikida, she saw he had already gone over to join Junichiro and Kirako, helping care for Hikari, and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

—

“So, whose side are you on?” Dazai asked, clenching his jaw as he spoke to Kouyou. He was certain there was only one person who could know the whole story, and he was right. Just like Chuuya, Kouyou hadn’t told Dazai—or anyone in the Port Mafia—about the situation. While Chuuya was at work, Hikari had always been a well-behaved, quiet girl who took care of herself at home. That kind of negligence only fueled Dazai’s anger. He had already wasted too many lives in the mafia that had destroyed him; he had raised Akutagawa the wrong way, and it had ruined him; he carried countless regrets from his time in the PM—and now, his newest regret was ever being with Chuuya in the first place.

Kouyou set her cup of green tea gently on the low table as she replied. They had met in a shop tucked away in one of Japan’s back alleys, in a private room she had arranged specifically to discuss this personal matter. She remained perfectly composed. “What do you think? Chuuya told me you left him the morning after you were together. At first, he thought you’d killed yourself. If I hadn’t told him you’d run away, he would have tried to kill himself over you.”

A double suicide, huh?

“Maybe a double suicide would’ve been better.” Dazai gave a faint, emotionless chuckle. “Yeah, fine. I get it—I made a mistake that day. I drank too much, and I ran from something I didn’t take responsibility for. I could barely even remember being with Chuuya, and when I woke up to see him asleep beside me, I panicked about what might happen next.” A brutally clear and honest confession, and yet also the part of the truth that cut the deepest. “But… if I had known Chuuya was pregnant, I would’ve stayed. I would have waited for him to give birth, supported him through it, and then, the moment the baby was born, I would have taken her away to fulfill the will Oda left me.”

Kouyou’s eyes narrowed in disgust. The question left a bitter taste in her mouth—as if she kept replaying what she’d just heard, almost wishing she had misheard him. Her grip tightened on her teacup’s handle as she tried to keep her expression neutral. “What you’re trying to say is…”

“Yes, I would have taken the baby and left Chuuya.” Dazai didn’t deny it—he laid bare the entire truth inside him. It was obvious he wasn’t lying, and that fact alone was terrifying. “Chuuya was never going to leave the Port Mafia, and I… In that case, which of us would have had the better environment?—”

“I already know the Port Mafia is a bad place for a child,” Kouyou cut in smoothly, raising her hand with graceful precision. “But I’ve already told you—nothing was as you thought. Chuuya never kept Hikari anywhere near his work. He always made sure to keep her out of sight. He couldn’t even take proper maternity leave, and when his belly started to show in those last months, he deliberately got injured on a mission just so he could take time off. He did more than most would because he loved your child. If he were a bad parent, he would have ended the pregnancy and moved on with his life. You wouldn’t have even known Hikari existed, Dazai.” Kouyou let out a small, amused chuckle at her final words.

“Am I supposed to be grateful for that?” Dazai countered, his smile never leaving his face. He crossed his arms on the table, resting the backs of his hands under his chin. “Regardless, the risk he took was selfish. If Chuuya had ended the pregnancy, it would have been better for both him and the baby. It wouldn’t have been a matter of someone’s life. By giving birth, Chuuya gambled with that child’s life. Even when he came to the Agency, he couldn’t hide the fact that Hikari had run away. What if, instead of coming to the ADA, he had gone to Mori? Do you think Mori wouldn’t have exploited that? Chuuya always thinks he’s strong, but this isn’t about strength—it’s about intelligence. And neither emotionally nor mentally is he in a healthy state. He’s dangerous.” Dazai’s manipulation was so sharp that even Kouyou hesitated. “You can’t pity someone who has chosen to suffer.”

“Then what will you do now?” Kouyou asked, raising her brows slightly. “From what I understand, you have no guilt or disappointment. You want Hikari. Then take her—but know that by doing so, you’ll be making an enemy of Chuuya.” 

“Do I look like I’m afraid of Chuuya, hmm?” Dazai’s grin widened. “He hid my own child from me for five years. He gave birth in some worthless illegal clinic with no medical safety. He didn’t even get Hikari an official identity. He never gave my daughter a real life. So tell me—which one of us is the bad parent here?”

Kouyou couldn’t answer.

As Dazai stood, he tossed a stack of reports onto the table. He had thought through everything before coming here. He had researched it all, examined every detail. It had only taken him a few minutes. He had called Ango and requested several documents from the underground illegal facility where Chuuya had given birth. Along with that, there were Chuuya’s criminal records, medical reports, and various other files.

“And what exactly do you plan to do with these?” Kouyou asked, sipping her tea, glancing at the reports with the same calmness as if they were nothing that could intimidate her.

“Oh, nothing much.” Dazai smiled, slipping his hands into the pockets of his brown coat. “Just a copy of the evidence I’ll be using in the custody case I’m going to file so I can legally claim my daughter.” He shrugged. “Well, I’ve always wanted to be a girl’s father—and she’s taken my whole face, hasn’t she? I’m sure we’ll make up for the five years we lost.”

Kouyou’s eyes widened at his words, while Dazai simply laughed at her stunned expression, savoring the chaos he had just set in motion.

—

Chuuya was still in the medical room, sitting tensely on the hospital bed. His long crimson hair was still messy. He had only slept for thirty minutes, and it felt like he’d forced himself to wake up. Instead of the dirty, soil-stained clothes he’d been wearing before, he now had on Atsushi’s pajamas, which were so loose on him he almost disappeared inside them. Yosano stood right beside him, pressing a painkiller and a glass of water into his hands. “Drink this.” she ordered.

Chuuya rolled his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead with a groan. Then, slowly, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it with the water. “It better not be something that knocks me out. I’m not sleeping. Not until I see my daughter.” His tone was defiant.

“Don’t worry,” Yosano said, rolling her eyes as she reached into the cabinet for a hair tie, her voice casual. “Your body’s in terrible condition, so I gave you a painkiller. It’ll help ease your headache a bit. You can’t let your daughter see you in this wreck of a state. At least try to pull yourself together for her.” She stepped in front of him and began gathering his hair.

Chuuya flinched at the sudden movement. “Hey—what are you doing?”

“Don’t move.” Yosano pulled his long hair back into a ponytail and fixed the shorter strands framing his face. “That’s better. You looked like a caveman a moment ago. Your face looks much nicer like this.”

“Whatever.” Chuuya sighed. “I’m sure you’re all happy you’ve found something to mock me for. ‘Port Mafia executive Chuuya Nakahara begs the Armed Detective Agency on his knees!’ Now that would make a headline.”

“Hah! Yeah, it would,” Yosano shot back, folding her arms as she turned toward him. “But as you can see, we’re not the mafia—we’re a detective agency. We don’t hold grudges. We don’t care about stupid, petty assumptions. Anyone who comes here asking for help is a client, Port Mafia or not.” Then she turned back to clean up her medical tools.

Chuuya just rolled his eyes at her pretty little speech, utterly unimpressed.

A few minutes later, Ranpo walked in, one hand holding the stick of the lollipop in his mouth and the other holding Hikari’s hand, who was clutching her toy dog tightly to her chest. Ranpo spoke with his usual cheerful and easygoing expression as the candy melted on his tongue. “Are guests allowed?”

“I told Atsushi and the others to keep the kid distracted.” Yosano set down the medical supplies and placed her hands on her hips, giving Ranpo an accusing look. “Why did you bring her here?”

“MY DAUGHTER!!” Chuuya had already gotten out of bed, scooped Hikari into his arms, hugged her tightly, and buried his nose in her brown hair, inhaling her scent. “Don’t you ever do something like that again, you scared me out of my mind. You’re practically killing me! Would you be happy if your dad died, huh?” Chuuya cupped his daughter’s face, frowning as he scolded the crying girl. “At the very least, you should’ve let me know! Or called your Aunt Kouyou, why would you—”

Hikari’s sobs cut off Chuuya’s angry words. She sniffled and clutched her toy dog tighter. “I’m sorry, papaaa!” Hikari buried her face into Chuuya’s shoulder. “I was hungry, and I was going to call you, but as I was reaching for the home phone, another number called me and gave me Dazai-san’s address. He said that man was my dad… aren’t you my real dad?” Hikari hiccupped and wiped her tears on her arm.

Chuuya’s eyes froze in fear, his jaw refusing to move. His hands trembled faintly in his daughter’s hair. He had never considered this. He had always followed the path of his male self, but how could he possibly explain this to his daughter? “He… he’s not—” Chuuya tried to speak, but something suddenly caught in his mind, and he raised an eyebrow. “Wait—Hikari, did you say a number called you? Who called you?”

This made no sense. The only people who knew about Hikari were Chuuya and Kouyou. Who could have called her and given her Dazai’s address?

“It was a voice I’d never heard before,” Hikari said in her small voice as she rubbed her eye. “He said he was my uncle.”

“Your uncle…”

What the hell are you playing at, Paul?

Chapter Text

“It would definitely be better if you didn’t walk for a few days. You’ve got a severe blister on your sole, a stress fracture, a sprained/strained ankle, and soft tissue inflammation. Where on earth was your mind all that time? Seriously, couldn’t you at least have used your ability? What did you do, throw yourself on the ground barefoot over and over again?” Yosano scolded Chuuya, who was still sitting with his arms crossed and pouting on the hospital bed in the ADA’s medical ward. “You’re as reckless as you are irresponsible.”

“Easy for you to say.” Chuuya rolled his eyes. “In that moment I felt a weight on my feet. Do you know what it’s like for your precious daughter, the one you carried for nine months, to suddenly disappear? I found myself under a car six different times, I nearly kidnapped another girl, I attacked three different men out of fear. How could they not have seen such a tiny girl?” He grumbled as if none of it was his fault.

Hearing this, Yosano pinched the bridge of her nose. “You recklessly threw yourself into the road six times? That sounds even more suicidal than Dazai.”

“Not exactly my preferred method, but if my daughter were taken from me, I’d gladly commit suicide.” Chuuya spoke with utter seriousness. His daughter was the only friend he had, the only thing that made him feel human. She was a part of his very soul, and just the thought of losing her left him flushed red with rage.

Yosano lightly smacked the back of Chuuya’s head. “We already have one idiot, we don’t need a second.” She spoke with a mix of warmth and firmness. “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“Hikari doesn’t have an ID or a birth certificate.” Chuuya muttered as he rubbed the back of his head. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He had never been a proper father to his daughter, never officially registered her existence, never thought about her future, and he was ashamed of himself.

“So what that means is…” Yosano’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Yes…” Chuuya lowered his head in defeat. “She had to be hidden from both the mafia and the government, so I gave birth in an illegal clinic.”

Yosano covered her mouth, her eyes unable to hide her shock. Hearing this was horrifying. Especially in such a situation, the risk of giving birth in an illegal place was terrifying. Chuuya’s organs could have been stolen, the baby could have died, both the baby and Chuuya could have died, the doctors might have turned out to be rapists, or worse. For Chuuya to take such a risk all alone, utterly by himself, was reckless—it was like playing Russian roulette. Somehow, it reminded her of Dazai.

But she didn’t know whether she should yell at Chuuya or try to comfort him. She knew very well that Chuuya carried a heavy burden; after all, he had tried to raise his daughter on his own, hiding from and hiding her from countless people. And yet, he had done a good job, raising Hikari in the kindest way possible. That was something to be admired.

“I won’t support what you did, but despite everything, I’m glad you raised Hikari this way. It truly is admirable.” Yosano spoke while gathering the reports on her desk, and though her voice carried its usual composure, a faint sympathy appeared on her face at the last moment.

Chuuya didn’t know what to say and averted his eyes. “I…” he cleared his throat and glanced around. “So… when can I leave? I should go home, and Hikari shouldn’t stay here much longer either.”

Yosano’s eyes narrowed slightly and her brows furrowed. “It would be better if you discussed that once Dazai arrives. He’ll be upset if you leave without telling him.”

“He’s the one who abandoned me in the first place.” Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“That still wouldn’t be fair, though. You’re the one who kept Hikari hidden from him for five years.” Yosano crossed her arms. “So at the very least, stay here for a few days. I don’t think getting permission will be a problem for someone of your rank. You can be pretty sharp-tongued when you want to be.”

Chuuya sighed. “Can I use your phone?” he asked. He hadn’t brought his own when leaving the house—he’d been anxious and panicked enough already. He regretted not thinking of it then, just as he regretted losing that sandal. After all, his Crocs were actually quite nice and comfortable.

Yosano raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be calling Mori-sama with your number.” Chuuya couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I’ll be calling the one person who would never betray me.” That person was, of course, Kouyou. She had always acted like both a mother and an older sister to him. That explanation seemed to ease Yosano’s mind.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to Chuuya. “By the way, I don’t mean to pry, it’s none of my business, but… who exactly is that mysterious uncle Hikari mentioned? Do you know him?” Yosano asked.

Chuuya tilted his head slightly. “Ah…” for a moment his fingers froze over the buttons. “That… that’s my older brother. The first user of gravity manipulation—Paul Verlaine.”

—

"Long time no see, right? Verlaine."

Paul sat at the corner of a bench in a quiet park, adjusting the jacket on his shoulders while keeping that faint smile on his face. He didn’t even need to turn his head to notice Dazai sitting on the neighboring bench, legs crossed, arms folded, smiling in the same way.

“Such a peaceful atmosphere, isn’t it?” Paul asked, watching the grass sway in the breeze while also enjoying the sight of children playing with toys a little further away. “Days like this make me forget the feeling of loneliness. Loneliness… what a difficult thing it is. Maybe that’s why people have children. I don’t know. I remember how my baby brother buried himself in my arms. That was the first day I saw Chuuya. Arthur begged me to hand him over, but all I could think about in that moment was how light Chuuya felt. His hands were so tiny, smaller than what a seven-year-old’s hands should have been. And his head nestled against the curve of my neck, those soft crimson locks… He was so precious. So small.”

“That’s enough nostalgia.” Dazai chuckled in his usual mocking tone. “Every time we talk you tell the same story. Do you want to see Chuuya helpless or dependent on you again, just clinging only to you? Pathetic.”

Paul covered his mouth with his hand and let out a soft laugh, his voice as sweet as honey. “Why would I think that way about the ones I love? After all, I’m not you.”

Ouch.

One of Dazai’s eyes twitched, though his devilish grin remained. “That was funny. Really funny.” He stood up, hands buried in the pockets of his coat. His steps were deliberate and slow as he walked toward Paul. “Even though you know me, you’re kind enough to bring my daughter back to me. How touching.” He placed his hand over his heart in mock sentimentality. “Do you really think about me that much, Paul-nii?”

“I think Hikari is a burden in Chuuya’s life. And besides, when Chuuya is still a child in my eyes, taking responsibility for another child would only harm them both.” Paul didn’t take his eyes off the children playing in the park. “And… we both know that Hikari is the only thing that affects Chuuya’s belief in his own humanity. The more certain Chuuya is that he’s human, the further he drifts from me.” Paul’s fist tightened slightly.

“Ah, a familiar kind of selfishness~” Without waiting for an invitation, Dazai sat down next to Paul on the bench, sprawling comfortably as he rested his arms along the backrest. “It’s nice to hear we’re speaking the same language, Paul-nii~”

Without showing the slightest sign of discomfort, Paul casually brushed the shoulders of his jacket with the back of his hand, his gaze still fixed ahead. “I wonder if Chuuya has been eating properly these days. He never cared much about his own diet, always too thin and short.”

Dazai rolled his eyes with a grunt. “Talking with you is really exhausting. What’s the point of worrying over someone who’s already grown enough? You can’t keep fretting over a person every second—your hair will go gray early.” He spoke with mock concern.

“And what about Hikari?” The moment Paul mentioned her, Dazai’s eyes opened wider. “That poor little girl… I hope she’s taking care of her health. It’s very important, after all. I had the chance to hold Chuuya in my arms when he was just a small child… But unfortunately, you never had the chance to hold Hikari.”

Ouch, round two.

Dazai raised his brows slightly, his weary expression never fading. “Yare yare…” He averted his gaze with a sigh, resting his hands on his crossed knee before speaking again with that ever-present false satisfaction. “In a way, what I want from you is very simple… and it’ll let us kill two birds with one stone. Isn’t this what you wanted from the very beginning? Just like when you carried out your first plan by giving ADA my daughter’s address?”

At last, Paul turned to face Dazai, giving him a look that showed they were of one mind. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

—

“What do you think?” Fukuzawa lifted his head from the documents in his hands, addressing Ranpo, who was sitting in the chair right beside his desk. “Do all of these have different purposes?”

“That’s actually the one thing I didn’t want to tell him.” Ranpo sprawled across the couch, trying to balance a pen on his nose. “There’s no way that child could’ve found the agency on her own, and for a father who hides his Port Mafia ties from his daughter to just keep the ADA’s address lying around at home… No. The paper the little girl was clutching had Dazai’s name and the agency’s address written clearly on it.”

“So you’re saying someone planned all this and is targeting Dazai?” Fukuzawa raised a brow. He had no real intention of getting involved, yet something deep inside whispered that this girl Hikari was more than what she seemed. “Will this end up connecting to the agency?”

“Hmm… I’m sure Dazai will figure it out. At least as long as we stay on his side, everything should turn in the agency’s favor.” Ranpo laced his fingers behind his head, crossing his legs as he spoke. “I noticed the gravity user is weaker than he appears… at least when his daughter isn’t around. I don’t think he realizes it himself. Ginger definitely doesn’t. He just assumes it’s because of his love and attachment to the girl.”

Fukuzawa’s eyes widened for a brief moment, his focus snapping entirely to Ranpo. He suddenly dropped the pen in his hand, frowning slightly. “You think it’s possible…?”

“Little Hikari may resemble Dazai more than she lets on.” Ranpo toyed with a small bead in his hand, grinning wide as he fixed one eye on it.

…

Name: Hikari Dazai.

Ability: Pandora’s Box / Pandora no hako.

Chapter Text

The agency’s office was quiet due to the shortage of staff. Hikari was sitting in the armchair by the window, her small hands clasped tightly on her knees. The weight of her first encounter with the man she had referred to as her uncle’s father was still written all over her face. Her other father, Chuuya, had fainted right in front of her because of her. Hikari couldn’t stop herself from feeling guilty for what she had put her red-haired father through. She only wished for him to recover quickly. This time, she would be a good girl and never go anywhere without permission again. Her eyes drifted into the void as if still searching for answers; in those moments, even the rustling of the scattered papers on the large desk felt unbearably loud.

Ranpo sat down on the chair beside Hikari’s armchair, sucking on his lollipop while occasionally glancing at her from the corner of his eye. To an outsider, it might have looked like Ranpo wasn’t paying attention to anything, but there was a sharp awareness in his gaze; he was observing Hikari without overwhelming her. It was as if he was calculating her movements and any situation that might suddenly arise. After all, Ranpo had been the first to figure out the little girl’s ability.

Hikari’s ability was the evil believed to lie within “Pandora’s box.” Her power allowed her to take away the ability of the person in front of her and use it for twenty minutes. During this time, she couldn’t take another power, but no matter how strong her opponent was, it was enough for her to lock away that terrifying or dangerous ability inside Pandora’s box. However, at the moment, Hikari was only a five-year-old girl—far too weak to draw on anyone’s energy. To bear the weight of such a power, she needed to grow strong both physically and mentally.

And if Hikari continued to stay at the ADA, in time she could grant them another incredible ability like Dazai’s. That was why Ranpo was watching her as closely as Fukuzawa had asked him to. At the same time, he could guess what Dazai might be planning. After all, that man always won, no matter who he was up against. He would eventually find a way to pull Hikari away from Chuuya too.

Atsushi was the first to gather the courage to approach the little girl after some time. Speaking in as gentle a tone as he could manage, he asked, “Would you like something? Tea, or maybe some juice?” trying at the same time to hide his own nervousness. The worry on his face was obvious as he looked at Hikari. “I understand you want to see your father, but he’s sick right now, and since he hasn’t rested in a while, he needs to recover.” Even though he was terrible at communicating with children, he still did his best to be kind.

Naomi, on the other hand, was showing a much warmer affection, leaning down slightly to gently stroke the girl’s hair. “Don’t you worry,” she said softly, with a sisterly smile that radiated warmth. “This is a safe place. We’ll be here for you.” Junichirō stood beside Naomi, quietly supporting her like a brother standing by his sister. Without looking away from Hikari’s eyes, he tried to reassure her with his presence alone. That silent gaze spoke more than words ever could.

Hikari slowly lifted her hazel eyes to meet Atsushi’s. “Is my daddy tired because of me? He never gets tired, he always works so hard and he’s so strong.” Her gaze dropped to the floor with sadness. Of course, Chuuya was the strongest person she knew. His ability to manipulate gravity and his overwhelming physical strength had always left Hikari in awe. Her greatest hero had always been her father.

Atsushi’s mind flooded with flashbacks of the countless times Chuuya had defeated him on the battlefield, and his face flushed with a hint of shame. Chuuya was undoubtedly strong, and he had learned that firsthand. “Yes, your father really is strong.” He gave a faint smile. “But sometimes, when we think someone we love might be hurt, we become scared and worried, and that worry puts us under so much stress that it makes us feel ten times more exhausted than usual!”

“Ten times?!” Hikari’s eyes widened. “Does that mean I tired my daddy out that much?” Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes were already beginning to fill with tears.

“No, no—” Atsushi flailed his hands in a panic. “That’s not what I meant, it’s just harmless tiredness—”

Right then, Kunikida sighed and gave Atsushi a light smack on the head from behind. “Don’t gather here. The president specifically assigned Ranpo alone to watch over Hikari. The rest of you, return to your duties immediately.” His voice was commanding, strict and uncompromising when it came to his ideals. Besides, Atsushi knew nothing about child psychology. “Hasn’t Dazai arrived yet?” he asked.

Ranpo stepped forward with his usual nonchalance before the other two could even speak, crossing one leg over the other. “He’s on his way.” he said just as the office door swung open and Dazai walked in. As expected, it was an easy guess, and the hands buried in Dazai’s coat pockets showed he had handled things without much trouble.

“Oi, you finally showed up, you bandage-wasting idiot!” Kunikida, spotting Dazai’s relaxed attitude, smacked him sharply on the head with his notebook. It was something that often happened in the office, but this time the situation was different. There was a sweet, innocent five-year-old girl in the room, and Kunikida absolutely despised any form of neglect toward children.

Atsushi slowly rose to his feet and moved toward Dazai. He wasn’t sure how to speak to his mentor in such a complicated situation. All he knew was that even now, Dazai remained terrifyingly calm. “Dazai-san…” he murmured softly, looking at his mentor with a hint of understanding. “Are you… okay? After everything that happened?”

Dazai let out a short laugh in his usual mocking tone. “As always, Atsushi-kun! Were you and Kunikida sitting around worrying about me, hmm?”

“Actually, they were more worried about the little girl.” A voice answered from behind, of course belonging to Ranpo, still sprawled lazily on his chair, legs crossed, sucking on his candy. “Ginger should be asleep right now, but if you want to see him, he’s a very light sleeper. I’m sure he’ll wake up the moment he hears the door creak.”

Dazai pressed a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “What? Our Chuuya? Impossible, his sleep is as bad as a bear in hibernation!” His voice stayed playful and sarcastic, and he couldn’t keep himself from laughing, as if he still had the right to joke around after everything he had done today. But Dazai had neither a defined personality nor a heart. Life was meaningless and absurd to him, so why wouldn’t he toy with it?

Dazai wanted to die, yet he kept on living; in a twisted way, clinging to his suicidal fantasies gave him a reason to exist. In other words, he lived because he wanted to die.

“My dad is not a bear!” Hikari’s voice seemed to completely shift the atmosphere in the room. “You’re the bear!” For a moment, everyone looked stunned at how the quiet, gentle, shy little girl on the couch had suddenly raised her voice—everyone except Dazai, who kept laughing.

Atsushi cleared his throat awkwardly, catching an unpleasant scent in the air. Kunikida’s sharp eyes were locked on Dazai, unable to stop himself from evaluating whether the man posed any danger to the child. Ranpo sat with his arms crossed, still planted in his chair, not moving an inch. Meanwhile, Dazai, a wide smile on his face and his hands tucked in his coat pockets, strolled toward the little girl on the couch—the one who looked just like him.

Dazai knelt down to her height. Hikari might have been five years old, but she was still quite short. Must’ve been Chuuya’s cursed genes. Whatever. With proper nutrition and training, Dazai was sure he could fix that. After all, he thought the only thing his daughter inherited from Chuuya was that; the rest was entirely Dazai.

Even her gaze.

“Hikari, right?” Dazai pulled one hand from his coat pocket and extended it toward her. “Nice to meet you, little chestnut~” he chuckled as he already came up with a nickname for her. ‘Kuri-chan’ seemed perfect. Her chubby cheeks and tanned complexion really did remind him of a chestnut.

Hikari didn’t answer. She averted her eyes, still upset with this man—for the things he had said about her father. She had decided she was mad at him and wasn’t going to talk. “Apologize.” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

Dazai tilted his head with mock innocence. “Apologize?” he blinked. “For what?”

“For what you said about my dad.” Hikari spoke with the same devilish glint in her eyes that matched Dazai’s own. “I won’t let you insult him like that, especially when he’s sick.”

“Oh.” Dazai let out a fake, pitiful groan, his expression twisting into an exaggerated sadness. “Then it’s such a shame I have to say this~” he murmured, straightening up and slipping his hands back into his coat pockets.

Kunikida instantly understood what Dazai was about to do, and for a moment, he felt he was already too late. “Dazai—!”

“Ah, things get boring when they drag on…” Dazai turned his head back toward Hikari, this time not bothering to hide the seriousness on his face. When he looked at his daughter, he saw the same devilish eyes as his own—so why bother hiding anything? “That man isn’t your father.” Dazai smirked cunningly, spreading his arms wide. “Surprise! Your father is me!~”

…

Ah.

Wait…

WHAT!?

Hikari’s eyes widened in an instant, her lips parting slightly as if words might tumble out—but nothing came. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. What could she possibly say? She was just a little girl. Only five years old, and all she had ever known was waiting at home for her father to come back from work. She had never even gone outside before, and on her very first outing, she had run into this man.

“Aren’t you happy?” Dazai feigned an overly sensitive pout, even pretending to cry. “Come on, Kuri-channn, no hug for your tall, handsome dad?~”

“Dazai, cut it out!” Kunikida’s face was flushed with anger. How could Dazai show no empathy toward such a small child? Then again, Kunikida couldn’t recall ever seeing Dazai empathize with anyone before. How could he possibly pity a five-year-old girl?

Atsushi looked at Hikari’s tiny, trembling frame—shocked and scared—and couldn’t help but see a reflection of himself in her. The sight made him uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than for Dazai to stop. But this twisted little display didn’t seem like it was ending anytime soon.

Dazai stepped even closer to Hikari and bent down to ruffle her hair. But when the girl turned her head away, his eyes darkened. He gently but firmly turned her face back toward him, fulfilling his intent to mess up her hair. “Come on now, it’s not that hard.” He leaned in, one hand gripping the top of her head, their foreheads nearly touching. “You came here for me in the first place. Aren’t you happy to see your father?”

Hikari’s body trembled slightly, her face twisting as if she were about to cry. “No…” she whispered to herself, her voice so faint it was barely audible, laced with fear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” Dazai said, releasing her hair. With his usual mocking smile, he tucked a stray lock of her brown hair behind her ear. “I asked you a question, Kuri-chann~”

“I made a mistake…”

“Say it again.”

“I MADE A MISTAKE!” Hikari suddenly jerked away from Dazai and bolted toward the medical room where Chuuya was resting. Yes, she had made a mistake. She should never have left the safety of her home. She should never have disappeared in the first place.

For a moment, Dazai froze, stunned by his daughter’s sudden burst of speed. The others, tense from the scene, couldn’t move either. Hikari had bolted toward the medical room, but she was so short that she couldn’t even reach the doorknob. Instead, she pounded on the door, waiting desperately for someone to open it. Chuuya, still struggling to move his legs, couldn’t possibly answer, but Yosano, who was at his side, could.

When Yosano opened the door and saw the crying little girl in front of her, she froze. “What’s going on?—” she started, but Hikari slipped past her before she could finish, throwing herself into the arms of her sleeping father. Yosano tried to stop her, startled, but failed. “Wait—”

“Dad!!” Hikari tried desperately to wake the slumbering Chuuya. “Dad!! Please wake up!!”

“HIKARI!” Dazai entered the room, and when his eyes landed on Hikari’s terrified face, a flash of anger surged through him. In his mind, it was all Chuuya’s fault. The only thing Dazai could think was that Chuuya must have spent all this time turning Hikari against him. “Hikari, come here…” Dazai called again, his voice firm.

Yosano raised a hand, stopping him midway. “Hey! What the hell is going on here? I expect an explanation, right now.”

“This isn’t the time—” Dazai started to argue.

Just then, Chuuya stirred with a faint snore, lifting a hand to his forehead and rubbing it while muttering incoherently. It had been so long since he’d gotten any rest that waking left him disoriented. But after a few seconds, he became acutely aware of the contact. He felt his daughter clinging to him tightly, sensed the fear in her tiny body, and saw the way she looked at Dazai as if seeking protection.

When Chuuya turned his head, his eyes met Dazai’s.

“Osamu…?”

“Chuuya.”

Chapter Text

Yosano had taken Hikari and left the infirmary. They had stationed Kenji right by the door where Chuuya and Dazai were left alone, making him stand guard in case they tried to hurt each other—because it was simply the best solution. Besides, this was the only way to stop Hikari, who was still anxious, bewildered, and heartbroken, from crying. Yosano held the little girl gently in her arms, stroking her hair. Atsushi, Junichiro, and Naomi stayed right beside her, speaking soft and comforting words to the girl. The greatest source of tension in the room, however, was Ranpo’s seemingly relaxed yet sly demeanor, as if he knew something the others didn’t.

“You knew something, didn’t you?” Yosano spoke directly to Ranpo, drawing his attention to her. She was the one who had known him the longest; he could deceive anyone, but never her. “That’s why you spoke with Fukuzawa-sama. Because you knew Dazai had a plan. Tell me, is the reason you didn’t oppose any of this because you thought of Hikari’s well-being?”

Ranpo tilted his head slightly to the side in an almost innocent manner. “Hikari?” he murmured. “Why would I care about Hikari’s well-being? She’s not my daughter—she’s Dazai’s. And Dazai knows exactly what to do with her. A father should be supported, and I support him. Because this will be better for all of us, Yosano. Trust me, like you always do.” The words left his mouth with effortless clarity.

Kenji was still at the door, waiting in case yelling or some sort of commotion broke out. Atsushi and Junichiro, on the other hand, had turned their eyes slightly toward Yosano and Ranpo’s conversation. Things must have been truly complicated, because they had never seen the two of them argue before. Yosano always handled her work in the infirmary, while Ranpo only took on matters that caught his interest. In fact, even though they were close, they never disturbed one another—after all, they had known each other for at least twelve years.

Yosano clenched her jaw and furrowed her brows slightly. She handed the little girl in her arms over to Atsushi and strode toward Ranpo. Slamming her fist down on the table where he sat, she made him shift uncomfortably. “Tell me what you know,” Yosano demanded. “The foundation of every plan the President makes has always been people’s lives and children. Especially children. And you’re going against that?”

Ranpo, balancing the pen on his nose as he spoke in his usual careless tone, said, “Well, it was the President who asked me to do this, you know I’d never go against him.” He smiled with a touch of smugness as he added, “I’ll admit I was a little surprised at first, but then I realized this is truly the right thing for all of us.”

“EDOGAWA RANPO!—” Yosano, filled with rage, was about to grab and shake the man she considered a brother when she suddenly noticed the hand that came between them.

Kunikida.

“I was gone for just two hours, and what happened? You already started tearing each other apart? And in front of a little girl, no less.” Kunikida positioned himself between Yosano and Ranpo, preventing them from hurting one another as he spoke. The concern and worry on his face were plain to see. Things were already in turmoil. Dazai’s arrival and his first interaction with Hikari had been anything but pleasant, but Kunikida was hoping he could still set things right. “Report?”

Ranpo crossed his arms and explained, “Chuuya and Dazai are currently talking about custody, but Hikari doesn’t have an identity or any legal registration with the state. The child doesn’t even have a birth certificate or a confirmed birth date, because Chuuya gave birth in an illegal facility. A week—or maybe even sooner—after giving birth, he woke up with memory loss and fainted again before he could even grasp his baby’s condition. That’s why he can’t give an exact date himself. Honestly, all of this just proves how IRRESPONSIBLE and TERRIBLE of a parent Chuuya really is. On top of that, the fact that he never told Dazai about the baby isn’t something he has the right to excuse himself for—he can’t play the victim here. As for Hikari’s psychological state, the girl wasn’t allowed to leave the house even once until she was five years old and barely ever looked away from the window. Do you know what all of this means?”

Kunikida’s eyes widened like saucers, for a moment he seemed at a loss for words. Yosano averted her gaze and rubbed her forehead. Atsushi and the others felt their jaws drop as well. They understood that Chuuya wanted to hide Hikari from the mafia—after all, Chuuya had countless enemies, and Hikari would directly serve as a weak link for them—but even so, when all of this was put together, it was terrifying. The poor little girl had been kept inside his home all the time, hidden away from anyone’s eyes, almost like a form of torture.

“What… What do you even mean—” Kunikida couldn’t string his words together for a moment. “Dazai wants to take responsibility for Hikari? That irresponsible, useless, suicide-obsessed lunatic—how is he supposed to act as a father to a five-year-old girl? Can your mind even accept that!?”

“That’s easy to say.” Ranpo chuckled mockingly and pushed his glasses up his nose. “But as bad as Dazai is, Chuuya is just as bad—and even far, far worse. Should I list the pros and cons? Dazai has some kind of order here, he doesn’t belong to the mafia anymore. But Chuuya definitely does—dangerous, troubled, a sick killer.”

“Then why do you even care about Hikari?” Yosano raised an eyebrow. “It’s obvious you’re not thinking about the girl’s well-being. What I’m trying to understand is—why do you want her to stay with Dazai? Is it because this gives us leverage over the Port Mafia? Have we really sunk that low?!”

“Hah, of course not.” Ranpo leaned back into his chair and sprawled out as he spoke, pulling a lollipop from his pocket. He popped it into his mouth as if talking had already exhausted him. “Do you want to hear the truth?”

Yosano and Kunikida exchanged glances.

“Yes.”

—

"Hikari has an unparalleled, rich ability."

Dazai spoke while sitting in the chair beside Chuuya’s medical bed. Chuuya was upright on the bed, looking at Dazai with focus and seriousness. He regretted grabbing the man by the collar and shaking him the last time they met—after all, Chuuya had hidden his daughter from him for five years and put their relationship at risk. Yet, he could still understand that Dazai genuinely cared for his daughter’s well-being.

"Hikari has an ability? Are you sure?" Chuuya leaned closer to Dazai with a curious, innocent look in his eyes. "I never saw her show any signs of an ability. How could I have been so careless with her… My poor baby, she couldn’t even develop properly because of me. She was always confined between four walls at home. There were even times I couldn’t take her to the hospital when she was sick. I was so consumed with the Mafia that I ended up neglecting Hikari…"

"Yes, Chuuya, go on." Dazai took one of Chuuya’s frail, IV-marked hands from his lap and held it with feigned tenderness. His touch was as light and warm as a feather. Chuuya couldn’t stop himself from being affected by it.

He remembered that drunken day in bed with Dazai. What a beautiful night it had been. It was as if he had been in the embrace of an angel. Chuuya’s small, fragile, naked body was pressed against Dazai’s slightly larger bare frame. Both of them burned with love and intoxication. Both of them couldn’t stop the way their orgasms surged again and again. Both of them wanted to kiss until they devoured each other.

As Chuuya grew drunk again on those memories, he lost his composure. He had been alone for so long that not being alone now felt deeply comforting. But… was he really sure he wasn’t alone?

“…And then, as I said, when I woke up, Hikari had already been born. My body barely healed in a few weeks; they told me I’d suffered internal bleeding but managed to recover, even if just barely.” While recounting everything he had gone through, Chuuya still glanced occasionally at the hand Dazai was holding. “Even if I couldn’t hold Hikari the moment she was born, she was still extraordinary even at two weeks old. She was so tiny, so adorable. Her eyes were exactly like yours—it was like looking at you—“

“I see.” Dazai withdrew his hand from Chuuya’s and cleared his throat with a cough into his fist. “Now, let’s get to the main point. Hikari has a very rare and powerful ability called Pandora’s Box. It’s somewhat similar to mine. She can stop people’s abilities, but it doesn’t stop there—she can actually possess that power for a set number of hours. She can even take an ability and share it with someone else. Isn’t that amazing? When Hikari grows up, she’ll achieve incredible things; she’ll be skilled and brilliant. But she needs the right mentor—“

“What..?” Chuuya’s face went pale at what he heard. “Hikari is only five years old, Dazai… A child doesn’t need to be a hero at that age. She doesn’t need to be trained; she needs to be a child! We may have been forced to become heroes while we were still orphans, but does Hikari have to go through that too? She’s our daughter.”

"My daughter." Dazai corrected him with a faint, mocking smile, as if he had just made a small slip. "She’s my daughter, Chuuya. After all, you’re not even registered as the one who gave birth to her, so why would she be yours? She carries nothing of you—she reflects me entirely. And besides, she doesn’t need a mother like you."

"What are you saying?" This was not the reaction Chuuya had expected. He blinked as though the moment that had just passed was only a dream, rubbing his eyes with his frail hands. He had never imagined Dazai would say something like this to him—it made him feel weak and foolish. "Dazai, how can you say that? Didn’t you regret what you did to Akutagawa? Isn’t that why you wanted to train Atsushi? What’s happening to you now?"

"And what exactly did you expect, huh?" Dazai laughed at Chuuya’s shocked expression, taking one of the crimson strands that had fallen into his face and tucking it behind his ear. "Did you want me to build a life with you? How adorable, Chuuyaa—you never used to show me this side of yourself!~"

"Are you mocking me?..."

This time, Dazai burst into loud laughter. He didn’t care in the slightest that Chuuya’s heart was splitting in two. He leaned closer. "From the very beginning, it was a mistake, Chuuya. We were never more than crime partners. I needed your ability to win, not you. You were never valuable to me—your power was. And isn’t that what you’ve always been to everyone, Chibi? You’re not even human—"

SLAP!

Chuuya couldn’t hold back any longer and struck Dazai hard across the face. But it wasn’t out of anger—it was out of sheer heartbreak. What Dazai had said was unacceptable. Unacceptable for Chuuya. Unacceptable for the man who had been his friend for over seven years.

SLAP!

Dazai struck Chuuya back with equal force, yet that single blow was enough to knock him to the ground. It was painfully clear now that Chuuya was both physically and mentally weakened, fragile in a way he couldn’t hide.

"Enough, Chuuya." Dazai’s voice was laced with anger as he spoke, paying no attention to the boy lying on the floor. "You don’t get to have things you don’t deserve. You can’t live a normal life when you’re not even human. Do you know how much it disgusts me that someone like you, just an experiment, ended up giving me a daughter?~"

Chuuya stayed down, his crimson hair falling over his face, refusing to get up. He was on the verge of tears, and he couldn’t let Dazai see. His fists clenched against the floor, trembling so badly he could barely move. He knew he wasn’t human. He knew he didn’t deserve to have a child. He knew he didn’t deserve to be a mother. But still—he wanted to be.

"Ah, look at that. I ruined all my charm by slapping you." Dazai brushed off his coat and continued in the same cold tone. "Anyway. I’m taking Hikari. If you want to see her one last time, show up at the custody hearing in family court. Deal? I can’t wait to see the look on your face, Chibi~"

"No… NO, NO, NO—" Chuuya couldn’t get up, his legs still too damaged to lift him off the floor. Instead, he collapsed at Dazai’s feet, clutching at the hem of his coat to stop him from leaving. "DON’T GO! YOU CAN’T LEAVE! YOU CAN’T TAKE HIKARI FROM ME! I CARRIED HER FOR NINE MONTHS—"

Dazai rolled his eyes and sighed. “You really do have a way of making things difficult, don’t you?” He crouched down beside Chuuya and gripped his chin tightly. “I’ll say this one last time: Hikari doesn’t have two fathers or a mother anymore. Don’t you think all of this is ridiculous? There’s only me. A healthy father with a stable job.”

“HEALTHY!? HEALTHY!?” Chuuya was on the verge of losing his mind. He shoved Dazai’s hand off his chin and lunged for his throat, but the pull of gravity was immediately stopped by Dazai’s No Longer Human ability. Chuuya sobbed. “YOU’RE NOT HEALTHY, YOU BASTARD! HOW CAN A MAN WHO CONSTANTLY TRIES TO KILL HIMSELF AND DOESN’T EVEN VALUE LIFE THINK HE CAN RAISE A DAUGHTER FULL OF LIFE!? MY DAUGHTER ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU—“

“Hah, Chiiibi~” Dazai chuckled as he stood back up. “We’ll see about that.”

“Fuck off!” Chuuya’s teeth clenched, his whole body burning with rage. Pain, fear, betrayal, and fury seared through his nerves, and it was taking everything he had not to completely lose it. “Why would the court even believe you, huh? You don’t have anything to use against me! Do you really think Hikari will say she wants to be with you!? SHE’S MY DAUGHTER—“

“Your word against yours, Chibi~” Dazai pulled out a recorder, grinning through his teeth.

“…What?”

Dazai pressed play.

“Hikari has an ability? Are you sure? I’ve never seen her show any signs of one… How could I have been so careless with her…”

Shhshh

“My poor baby, because of me she couldn’t even develop properly. She was always confined within four walls at home. There were even times I couldn’t take her to the hospital when she was sick. I was so wrapped up in the Mafia that I ended up neglecting Hikari…”

Hhsshh

“At first, I actually thought about spending my pregnancy away from dangerous missions… But selfish as it was, I wanted to give birth to Hikari anyway, and still I went on every mission, I drank, I smoked…”

Shhhshh

“I even gave birth in an illegal hospital…”

HSssh

“…And then, as I said, when I woke up, Hikari had already been born. My body barely healed in a few weeks; they told me I’d suffered internal bleeding but managed to recover, even if just barely.”

Sshhhsh

Chuuya clamped his hand over his mouth. He had told Dazai everything. And of course, Dazai was going to use it all against him. How could he not have realized? Dazai was always the one with a plan, always clever, always three steps ahead. How could Chuuya have been so blind? How could he have trusted him enough to confess everything?

“Osamu… please…” Chuuya struggled to reach for Dazai’s arms, trying his best even though he couldn’t stand. “Please don’t do this… I can’t be separated from her… A mother can’t be apart from her daughter, you know that. How could I live without her scent?”

“You’re right,” Dazai said, crouching down again beside him. He pulled the redhead into his chest, holding him close. “A mother can’t live without her daughter’s scent.” His lips curled into a sly smirk, leaning down until they brushed against Chuuya’s ear. “But you’re not a mother, Chuuya.”

For a fleeting moment, Chuuya felt so exhausted that he thought about staying there in Dazai’s arms, not wanting to let go until Dazai pushed him away. His chest was so warm. He held Chuuya’s slender body as tightly and preciously as he had on that night. “I am a mother…”

“You’re not even human.”

Chapter Text

“When is my daddy coming?” Hikari squirmed impatiently in the chair she was sitting on. She wanted Chuuya. She wanted to make sure her father was okay and go home with him. Somehow, this place didn’t make her feel good, even though the people here were genuinely kind. Yosano, Kunikida, and Atsushi were definitely very good and gentle people; talking to them made her feel safe. On top of that, Kenji and Tanizaki were also very kind to her. But somehow, she felt as if a heavy tension was pressing down on her, like someone was constantly watching her.

“They still haven’t come out.” Yosano murmured into Kunikida’s ear in a thoughtful tone, her arms crossed. She couldn’t predict how Chuuya would react to whatever Dazai had to say. The young man was bound to fall apart. “Maybe we should go in?—” Yosano immediately regretted suggesting the idea and pulled back.

“I’ll go tell Ryuu.” As Atsushi stood up and pulled out his flip phone, Kunikida raised a brow and called out to him with a suspicious look. Atsushi froze for a moment, realizing what he had done wrong.

“Ryuu?” Kunikida repeated the name. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that Akutagawa Ryuunosuke from one of Port Mafia’s sub-divisions, does it?” he said, narrowing his eyes in a faintly threatening way. “Atsushi—“

“If he calls me by stupid nicknames, then I can call him by his name.” Atsushi quickly went into defense mode. Then his cheeks flushed furiously red. He had been dating Akutagawa for the past three months, and they hadn’t told anyone about it—well, maybe Kyōka knew (and possibly Ranpo). The moment he noticed the other eyes turning on him, he slipped out of the room. “Don’t follow me!!”

Atsushi slammed the door shut behind him as he left. The ones remaining could only stare at each other. It was odd. But it was also the kind of reaction that could be expected from Atsushi.

Right at that moment, shouting began to rise from behind the door.

“NO!—YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU CAN’T TAKE MY DAUGHTER AWAY FROM ME!” The instant Chuuya’s harsh, rage-filled screams echoed from the other side, Hikari’s eyes instinctively darted toward the door.

Yosano cast a brief glance at the Tanizaki siblings and signaled them to take Hikari down to Uzumaki’s office. Honestly, having a five-year-old in the middle of this chaos would be anything but good. Junichiro quickly scooped Hikari into his arms, and before the little girl even understood what was happening, he and Naomi had already left the office.

And then… the real fight began.

Dazai was storming out of the ADA’s medical wing with heavy steps. He was clutching the file in his hand so tightly that the edges of the papers could have cut into his palm. The muscles in his jaw were tight, his eyes sunk into something dark. No matter how hard he tried to look composed, he couldn’t hide the spark of anger blazing across his face. What drove him truly insane wasn’t just what Chuuya had said to him—it was also the way Chuuya insisted on acting like the victim here.

“Dazai!!”

That same shout filled the corridor again. Drenched in sweat inside the hospital gown, eyes bloodshot, Chuuya staggered after him, steadying himself against the wall as he went. His long red hair was a tangled mess, curls falling lightly against his shoulders, some strands dropping forward to cover his right eye. His breath came in short, ragged bursts; clearly his body was still far too weak, unable to recover. But his fury alone was enough to keep him on his feet.

“Dazai, damn it, I told you to stop!”

Dazai kept walking without turning back. In just a few steps, Chuuya caught up, shoving him in the chest and pinning him against the cold marble wall. Even though he knew brute strength would never work against Dazai, he still tried to lean on it. “Don’t play games with me! Have you ever done a single thing right in your whole life?! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO COME AND TAKE MY DAUGHTER FROM ME NOW?!”

Dazai narrowed his eyes, studying his face. “The right thing? I know I can protect Hikari better than you can—that’s right enough.” His voice carried a self-assured sarcasm, sly and sharp. “What I don’t get is how you can be so sure of yourself. At the end of the day, you’re nothing but a killer who’s made his living off the Mafia. Hmmm~?”

Chuuya’s fist slammed into Dazai’s collar. “You don’t know her, you don’t know my daughter!” He clenched his teeth, his eyes burning with a bitter mix of defiance and grief. It was as if, beneath the anger, he was trying to plead with Dazai. “You’ve never breathed in her scent, never seen her first steps, don’t even know her first word. You’ve never done a single thing for her all this time! How can you possibly think you have any right to my daughter?!—”

“Your daughter?” Dazai’s voice lit up with feigned innocence, placing a hand over his chest with mock sorrow as he mocked him. “You stole her from her father for five years. You left her without one. What is this, Chuuya? Pride? Stubbornness? Or just your hatred for me? Ahh… what did I ever do to deserve that~”

“You don’t know!” Chuuya shouted, his voice cracking, eyes blazing with fury that couldn’t mask the pain underneath. “You don’t know anything. The path you chose destroyed me, Dazai! It destroyed us. If you hadn’t left the Mafia… if you hadn’t abandoned me that morning, we could have been a family! I still love you, why do you have to be such a disgusting bastard!? Just once, stop being selfish and—”

“Me?!” Dazai’s laughter rang through the corridor, metallic and hollow. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it, Chuuya. If I hadn’t left the Mafia, we’d both already be dead. You, and that baby… The Mafia doesn’t leave anyone alive. You never should have given birth to that child in the first place. But since you did, no one can know she belongs to someone from the Mafia. Don’t you see why I’m trying to take her from you? I want to give Hikari a life—and I can’t do that with someone dangerous like you by my side. If we register Hikari under the name of some dead woman as my daughter, that’s the smartest move we can make! No one can use her against you, because at the end of the day, she’s MY daughter.”

Chuuya’s hands began to tremble. Dazai was right. If Hikari were officially registered as Chuuya’s daughter, both she and Chuuya would be in danger. On the other hand, if he couldn’t get Hikari an identity, she would live her whole life with that absence—she wouldn’t be able to go to school, receive medical care in a hospital, have any records or insurance. Her future would always be at risk. “But… but I can protect her, I can leave the Mafia if I have to, I swear I—“

Dazai lowered his eyes to the ground, and a moment of silence sliced between them like a knife. When he looked back up at Chuuya, his gaze held that old, familiar merciless glint. “Chuuya, this time, the choice isn’t yours.”

Chuuya slammed his fist against the wall. The sound of cracks filled the corridor, the skin tearing and bleeding on his knuckles meant nothing to him. “I don’t want this!” His voice shook this time not with anger but with desperate sorrow. His eyes were brimming with tears. “I DON’T WANT THIS! I DON’T WANT TO GIVE HER UP!”

“Enough already!” Yosano’s voice rang through the corridor. For a moment, everyone fell silent. The woman stepped firmly between them, grasping Chuuya’s trembling shoulders with both hands. Up close, it was impossible not to see how wrecked he was: the thin hospital gown was slipping off his shoulders, his knees were buckling. Anger was trying to hold him upright, but his body had already reached its limit.

Yosano turned her sharp gaze on Dazai. “Can’t you see? He’s already falling apart—try to understand him, just a little. You’re telling him he may never see the daughter he’s raised for five years again. What could be more devastating for a parent?”

“Shit…” Chuuya muttered breathlessly, his voice barely audible. “I… I’m fine…” But he was anything but fine. His knees were about to give out. Kunikida immediately stepped in, looping an arm around Chuuya’s waist, holding him up to keep him standing. His face was stern, but there was the faintest trace of understanding in his eyes.

“I can’t dismiss this,” Kunikida said, turning toward Dazai. “And I’m saying this regardless of my personal history with you. Chuuya has clearly raised his child on his own, and he gave birth when he was only eighteen. I remember reading about how birth at such a young age strongly affects the bond between mother and baby. I’m certain a court could see that bond just by looking into Chuuya’s eyes.”

“Ha?” Dazai’s smile thinned, sharp as a blade. His friends—the ones he had worked alongside for the past five years—were siding with Chuuya? “In those eyes? Fatigue. Instability. Selfishness. No one knows Chuuya better than I do. He was the cause of it all from the very beginning, caught me at my weakest moment and threw himself at me like a whore—”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Chuuya’s eyes went dark, the red in his hair merging with the blazing crimson aura around him. Gravity was beginning to hurl nearly everything in the office into the air. Dazai had crossed the line more than enough times today, but this—this was too much, even for him. Chuuya had always known Dazai flirted with every woman he met, treating them all like playthings, but the Dazai he knew was not this. His voice had grown monstrous. “Don’t forget, ‘Samu… I can kill you without ever laying a hand on you.”

Ranpo had his hands in his pockets, tilting his cap slightly. His eyes were half-lidded, but his grin was sly. He and Dazai exchanged a brief glance. It looked like their plan had worked. Chuuya was angry enough now, and there was no chance he’d let go of that rage anytime soon.

“CHUUYA, DON’T!—” Yosano tried to call out, but Chuuya was already directing gravity at Dazai, making every object he controlled fly toward him. Yet Dazai’s cunning, fluid movements let him dodge every strike with ease. It was as if he knew Chuuya’s every move before it happened.

It was infuriating.

Chuuya’s vision was clouded completely by fury. The only thing he wanted was to hurt Dazai. To make him suffer something worse than death itself. Something so devastating it would splinter every bone in his body.

The crimson pull of Chuuya’s gravity ripped the sharp pens out of the iron holders on the desks, every last one of them falling under his control. Their pointed tips all aimed straight at Dazai.

And now, there was only one thing left.

Ranpo snapped his fingers.

“Dad!!” Hikari was already standing at the office door, having witnessed her father’s terrifying state. “DAD, DON’T!!” The instant she saw the pens about to launch toward Dazai, she lunged forward in sudden fear, planting her small body in front of him. And that—was the chance.

Dazai immediately focused on Hikari and stole her ability. Hikari could give any ability she absorbed to someone else, or amplify its power, and that was exactly what Dazai had been planning for. It was such an intoxicating feeling. Power. Like a vitamin that poisoned and exhilarated at the same time. With his daughter around, Dazai was thrilled to know he could always savor that taste.

With Hikari’s ability, he quickly played into Ranpo’s plan, using the Light Snow she had unknowingly taken from Junichiro earlier to cloak the area, shielding himself from Chuuya’s flying pens and other hurled objects. After passing Hikari into Yosano’s care, he used the illusion to trick Chuuya, then in his real body slipped behind him and activated No Longer Human. Chuuya lost his ability under Dazai’s touch and collapsed to the ground.

The darkness in the room vanished, and everything Chuuya had been controlling fell with him.

“Ah… Chuuya, you lost again.” Dazai smirked down at Chuuya’s body on the floor. Just as he had predicted, his and Ranpo’s scheme had killed two birds with one stone. Not only did Hikari now see her father as a monster, but Ranpo had recorded everything, and the world would believe Chuuya was dangerous enough to even harm his own daughter. “You’re always too easy.”

The mind is stronger than any ability.

Yosano’s heart clenched; all of Chuuya’s rage, fear, and helplessness trembled in her arms like a crushing weight. She rushed to his side and checked the young man lying face down on the floor, utterly exhausted. Dazai, on the other hand, didn’t retreat a single step. In his eyes burned the cold patience of a man who was only ever accustomed to winning.

“Oh my god… he has a fever, he’s burning up, we have to do something—” Yosano’s voice shook as she tried to examine Chuuya, her eyes flicking desperately between Ranpo and Dazai. Kunikida, meanwhile, was still tending to Hikari, who remained paralyzed by shock.

How terrifying… Hikari was only five years old, and his whole life had been shaped by Chuuya’s devotion to giving him a normal childhood. He spent his days at home watching cartoons, playing with his toys, waiting for his father to come home and read him a story. But what he was living and witnessing now was a nightmare ripped from a world far outside his own. Far outside the world of a five-year-old. He could feel every inch of the power burning through his small body, and it was driving him to the edge of madness.

Chuuya’s body on the floor, his weary blue eyes lifted for just a moment to meet Hikari’s. In that instant, the desperation, the pain, the sorrow etched into his gaze were so profound it was nearly impossible to describe.

“H-h-hikari-c-chan…” Chuuya’s exhausted voice quivered against the floor, weak, almost like a plea.

They had to forget what had happened. Father and child had to go back home.

“MO—MONSTER!!” Hikari’s scream tore from his throat, his wide eyes brimming with terror. His pupils shrank in a traumatic flash, and his voice burned with raw desperation. “MONSTER!! MONSTER, MONSTER! MONSTER!!”

Ah.

What?

Chuuya’s body convulsed, almost like he was having a kind of epileptic seizure. His voice broke down into weak whimpers. He wished this were a nightmare. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on him with crushing reality. He was afraid, suffocating, his body felt chained as if imprisoned in some laboratory. His voice trembled, and as he writhed in Yosano’s arms, only a thin cry escaped his throat—like the desperate wail of a tortured kitten.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure about this?" Atsushi asked with a doubtful tone while speaking to Akutagawa outside. "You’re the one who’s known Chuuya-san the longest, you should know how devastated he is over his daughter. Dazai-san was quiet when he walked in, but when they started arguing, he—" the voice on the other end cut him off.

"Dazai-san is innocent!" Akutagawa spoke with pure innocence and conviction. He never thought, never made rational decisions. When it came to Dazai, Akutagawa was always on his side. Chuuya had tried to help him countless times, and he was the one who made sure Akutagawa continued his training in Dazai’s absence. He defended him against Mori and everyone else, treated him and his sister kindly. But Dazai… Dazai was Akutagawa’s reason to live.

As always, Akutagawa was nothing but a loyal dog.

Atsushi couldn’t believe what he was hearing; he was starting to think his boyfriend had actually lost it. "Ryuu! I know about your past with Dazai, but are you sure Chuuya isn’t the victim here? You should’ve seen him when he came into the office—his feet were a mess, he was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and he was begging his enemy! He begged Ranpo!—"

"Victim?" Akutagawa let out a deep sigh, his eyes narrowing with a trace of anger. "Look, I’m sure Chuuya loves his daughter very much, but he’s been deceiving all of us for five years! Mori-sama, Gin, Tachihara, the entire mafia! Damn it, he even deceived Dazai! This is betrayal. If a few years from now Lucy showed up and told you the two of you had a child together, how would you feel?"

"Do you really have to drag Lucy into this?" Atsushi pinched the bridge of his nose. Akutagawa was always the most jealous man on earth, and he was still insanely jealous of his ex-girlfriend Lucy. It annoyed him deeply.

"You’re upset, aren’t you?" Akutagawa spoke smugly, still determined to empathize with Dazai. "So, do you still want to stand by Chuuya?"

"How can you be this thoughtless?" Atsushi didn’t want to believe it. "I get it, Chuuya isn’t completely right here—in fact, he’s done terrible things. He put the baby’s life at risk, didn’t register her, kept her hidden from everyone, and despite being a mafia executive, he constantly left her alone and—"

“Look! Chuuya is WRONG! All Dazai-san wants is to make up for the five years he missed. To give his daughter all his love and his presence. Don’t you really think Hikari would be happier at the ADA? When you were thrown out of the orphanage it was the ADA and Dazai who opened their doors to you. A peaceful, warm home. So do you know what this place is like, Jinko?”

Atsushi bit his lip, tilting his head slightly.

“Like hell.” Akutagawa continued. “This place is like hell. For Dazai-san, for me, for Chuuya, and for all my other subordinates, Port Mafia is a shit pit. They could kill a little innocent girl in the blink of an eye. Do you want that? When Chuuya left her, what can Hikari do alone against enemies who could catch her in a building owned by Port Mafia?”

“I… I don’t know.” Atsushi closed his eyes and murmured.

—

As Dazai left the agency, he carried Hikari’s small, trembling body in his arms. He supported her by the hip, while her face was buried against his shoulder and her arms clung tightly around his neck. The little girl hadn’t been able to control the fear and helplessness in her body—she couldn’t even speak—ever since she’d seen the man she thought was her father for five years lash out at people like one of those terrible monsters from cartoons.

Kenji, Naomi, and Junichiro couldn’t help but be curious when they saw Dazai descend to Uzumaki, holding the little girl who was trembling lightly in his arms as he prepared to leave the building. Dazai’s face was unreadable, as if it conveyed nothing at all. He wasn’t happy, nor was he sad. He just looked the same as always.

“Yare yareee! Is Hikari-chan okay?” Naomi rose from her seat with concern, clasped her hands over her chest, and stepped toward Dazai. “Aww, what could have scared the poor little girl so much?”

Adjusting his daughter slightly in his arms, Dazai turned to Junichiro. “Can you control your ability?”

“Uh—what?”

Dazai gently took one of Hikari’s tiny arms that was wrapped around his neck and opened her palm toward Junichiro’s hand. “Give me your hand.” he called. Even though Junichiro didn’t understand, he obeyed—and immediately felt his power being transferred. On the other side, Hikari weakened, drained by the ability.

"Oh no! Is Hikari-chan alright? Did I do something to her?" Junichiro panicked in fear for a moment. When he saw the little girl faint from exhaustion and weakness into Dazai’s arms, he didn’t know what to do.

"No, no, she’s fine. I just returned her strength to you." Dazai tried to explain as he held Hikari tighter in his arms. He enjoyed the warmth the little girl gave him, he had loved it. For some reason, being a father suddenly felt more beautiful now. He could hold his tiny daughter in his arms at any moment. "Hikari’s ability, even if unintentionally, allows her to temporarily use a portion of other people’s powers. There must have been a misunderstanding just now and she must have taken yours. I realized it right away because she felt very unwell." Though not a complete lie, Dazai hid much of what he knew.

“Aah! It’s all my fault, I must have made too much contact with her." Junichiro lowered his head and poured out apologies, while Naomi smacked his back and scolded him. "I’m so sorry, Dazai-san! Poor Hikari must have suffered so much! I promise I’ll be more careful next time!!"

Kenji, who was behind Dazai, stroked Hikari’s head while Dazai gave Junichiro a faint smile. "Heeey, calm down, Tanizaki-kun! It’s fine, this is just because Hikari can’t control her ability yet. It’s not your fault." With one hand he stroked Hikari’s back, while with the other he supported the little girl’s tiny body by the waist.

"Hikari seems to have gotten used to you.” Kenji said in a gentle, sweet voice.

Dazai slightly nodded at Kenji’s words. There was a faint, sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Of course she has. After all, I’m the one who’s here for her. I’m the only one who can protect her. My little chestnut is now by her father’s side." His voice was calm, yet a subtle claim hid within it.

Naomi clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes sparkling. “How cuuute! A little princess and her heroic father,” she said, while Hikari’s fingers were still tightly clinging to Dazai’s collar. The little girl’s eyes were half-closed, her temperature seemed to be rising; her cheeks were flushed bright red, and her breathing had grown rapid.

Junichiro tilted his head slightly to the side. “Ah… Dazai-san, Hikari looks sick…”

Dazai brushed his lips against the girl’s forehead, as if it were the most natural fatherly gesture. He actually knew everything, but he couldn’t resist seizing the opportunity. “She’s just… a little tired. As long as she’s with her father, there’s no problem. Isn’t that right, Hikari?”

Half-conscious, Hikari let out a faint whimper, though no words escaped her mouth. Her tiny body grew heavier in Dazai’s arms. Her fingers still clutched his shirt tightly. A faint tremor ran through her small frame, yet her eyes slowly drifted shut. As Dazai rhythmically stroked her back, he almost looked as though he were lulling her to sleep.

Junichiro stepped forward, his face flushed with guilt. “Dazai-san… if I accidentally transferred my ability to Hikari-chan… this is completely my fault. I’m so sorry…”

Dazai tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Junichiro. Then he let out a short laugh, though it carried not joy but a calm hint of disdain. “Ah, Tanizaki-kun. You’re overthinking. Children make mistakes, don’t they? Let’s call this one just that.”

But beneath his words lay a subtle thorn. Junichiro couldn’t tell if he was truly forgiven or if Dazai’s words carried a heavier implication. Naomi immediately clung to Junichiro’s arm and whispered, “Dazai-san is so understanding~! See, he’s not blaming you, Oni-samaaa~”

“How did your talk with Chuuya go?” Kenji asked with curious innocence. He knew it was a sensitive subject, but if Dazai seemed this calm now, maybe things hadn’t gone as badly as they feared? The others exchanged glances, smiling, before turning back to Dazai.

“Ah.” Dazai averted his eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Everything will be fine. Chuuya had a seizure and is unconscious now. Hikari will stay with me until the court date, and the matter’s been settled sweetly.”

“WHAT?!” Junichiro froze. “Chuuya-san had a seizure?! And you—”

“Anyway. You’ll wake Hikari if you keep this up, so let’s drop the subject.” Dazai adjusted his daughter in his arms as if to show he wouldn’t accept more questions, slipping back into his usual mocking mask. “I’ll stroll around the market a bit. Hikari’s belongings are in Chuuya’s apartment, so I’ll have to buy her a few things to wear for now~” He let out a short laugh. “It’s going to be so much fun walking around with my little girl who looks exactly like me!”

“How can you be so sure of that? We can’t predict which way the court will lean. There’s still plenty of time.” Naomi spoke up bluntly. “Besides, can you really raise this girl, Dazai-san?”

“Hah!” Dazai laughed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t worry. Let’s just say I’ve got a secret weapon. I have the perfect friend to testify for me. I’ve got plenty of different kinds of evidence. I’m the only one who can raise Hikari in the right environment.”

“I’m more surprised that you want to do this,” Naomi tilted her head slightly. “I mean… it’s not like this fits with Kunikida-san’s ideals…”

“If fatherhood is an ideal, then you’re right—but it’s not. It’s a bond beyond a role. It’s a duty beyond responsibility. I’d bet it’s something different, because once upon a time, I had a father too, you know? I’m not completely ignorant about this.” For the first time, Dazai dared to mention his father, even though he never spoke about his past. “Compared to me, Chuuya knows nothing about this. After all, he don’t have—”

“OSAMU DAZAI!” The sharp voice rang out from behind, unmistakably Kunikida’s, but this time he wasn’t carrying his usual friendly banter. He descended with arms crossed, walking straight toward Dazai, his eyes burning with anger. “What have you done?”

“Is Chuuya alright?” Dazai asked, adjusting the little girl in his arms with faint concern.

“You think you have the right to ask that?” Kunikida snapped, not bothering to explain further while the others stared in shock. Right behind him, Ranpo approached anxiously, tense because he couldn’t sway Kunikida to his side—one of the few people Ranpo actually respected.

“Of course I have the right. I’m the one who saved him, didn’t I?” Dazai grinned shamelessly. “If I hadn’t stopped Arahabaki’s power, he would’ve died. I saved him with a single touch. Again. Because that’s who I am—no matter if he runs from me, even if he takes my daughter and betrays me, I still think of his well-being—”

“Shut up! Do you even hear yourself?” Kunikida suddenly blocked Dazai’s path, fists trembling with the urge to strike him, but right now it was impossible—Dazai was holding the fragile, exhausted Hikari. “I don’t understand if what you and Ranpo did really lines up with what’s right! All Nakahara wanted was his daughter. Aren’t you pushing him too far?”

“I understand what you’re thinking right now. You and Yosano have known Chuuya for less than a week. I, on the other hand, have known him for more than seven years.” As Dazai gently pressed his sleeping daughter closer to his chest, he stepped toward Kunikida. “Chuuya is good, kind, and pure, and he is strong as well. But Chuuya is more than that; a test tube, a lump of flesh, a breathing object implanted with an artificial heart, a code of 2,383 lines.”

Kunikida’s face was almost frozen, his hair standing on end at what he was hearing. The moment he realized what Dazai was trying to say, his blood ran cold and his eyes widened. He had heard rumors before—that besides manipulating gravity, Chuuya carried within him a kind of artificial god. The experimental subject known as A258, who vanished years ago while being sent to France during a catastrophe, was none other than Chuuya himself.

“Now you’re starting to understand.” Dazai mocked Kunikida’s shock with a wide grin spreading across his face. “You know well that children are fragile and need every kind of emotion. How could a dog, not even human like Chuuya, ever raise his own daughter? Besides, it’s obvious that Hikari has been hidden for five years in the bedroom of an apartment tied to the Port Mafia. Hikari has never even gone outside once in her life. How else could I prove what a terrible parent Chuuya is?!”

Ranpo was standing right behind Kunikida, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder as if to give him comfort. “My suggestion, along with the president’s, is for Hikari to stay with Dazai and remain under the ADA’s watchful eye. That way, the little girl can grow up here under the right conditions. Besides, you’ve always loved children and teaching them things. With us, Hikari will have the very best of everything.”

Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose lightly. He was struggling to think. Honestly, he knew the situation was morally dark—separating a parent from their own daughter was wrong in every sense. Yet Dazai’s words… Dazai was right, and Kunikida couldn’t deny it. It was obvious that Chuuya had failed in certain ways, and Hikari would never have a happy childhood with him. They couldn’t allow such a clever and talented girl to grow up like that.

“So, Kunikida-kun~” Dazai smiled slyly, tilting his head slightly to the side. “What do you say now?”

Kunikida closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh as he adjusted his glasses.

Chapter Text

“MO—MONSTER!!” Hikari’s scream tore from his throat, his wide eyes brimming with terror. His pupils shrank in a traumatic flash, and his voice burned with raw desperation. “MONSTER!! MONSTER, MONSTER! MONSTER!!”

Ah.

What?

“Hi-Hikari—“

Monster!

MONSTER!

MONSTER!!!

—

“HİKARİ!”

The echo of Chuuya’s scream stuck in his throat like thorns. His eyes bulged, the sound tearing out of his tense body now mixing his own voice with Hikari’s. The black curtain of the nightmare suddenly shattered, and Chuuya woke up gasping, his throat burning.

His chest felt like someone was pressing a fist into it. He was drawing ragged breaths, yet even the air filling his lungs felt insufficient. His fingers clutched the sheets; he didn’t even realize he was pressing hard enough to rip the fabric with his nails. Drops of sweat slid down from his forehead and temples, trickling along his cheeks and leaving a cold shiver in their wake.

Even with his eyelids still half-closed, that word echoed in his mind.

Monster.

The pure terror in a child’s voice had sunk deep into the core of his heart. No matter how wide he opened his eyes, that sound wouldn’t tear itself from his ears. Chuuya tried to sit up quickly, but his muscles disobeyed; there was a weight chaining his body as if he were still trapped in the nightmare. The bed springs creaked, his breath burst from his chest, and broken whimpers escaped his throat. His mouth was dry, his tongue heavy; his lips parted but the only thing that slipped out was a muffled whisper.

“Hi… Hikari—“

His hands trembled uncontrollably; without meaning to, he pressed them against his chest as if trying to cage the frantic pounding of his heart. There was air flooding his lungs, too much of it, yet he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. Swallowing was a struggle, as though invisible hands were wrapped tight around his throat.

His eyes darted around the dimness of the room, but he couldn’t make out anything; shadows stretching across an unfamiliar ceiling, the sharp silence of a stranger’s bedroom. He had no idea where he was, and that uncertainty only poured fuel onto the fire of his panic. It felt as though he were trapped in the folds of the sheets, the strangeness of this bed closing in around him.

The last he remembered was leaving the ADA’s medical ward, regaining consciousness after his fight with Dazai. Dazai had told him he was going to take his daughter away. That it was better for Hikari to stay in his custody, that he’d be more aware of his responsibilities as a father. Chuuya had thought it was a joke. Dazai? Responsibility? Those were words that should never coexist. He knew he had done wrong. He had put Hikari in danger, but he had never once regretted bringing her into this world. That made him selfish, maybe. Still, he wanted her back.

So where was Hikari now? What had happened last? His memory was hazy and…

Dazai had taken Hikari.

For a moment he shut his eyes and opened them again, but behind the veil of black his daughter’s tiny face still lingered: twisted in fear, her eyes glinting with disgust. And with every blink, that face sharpened, drew closer, and pressed heavier against him.

His breathing quickened. One… two… three. Each breath sliced between his ribs like a knife. Another involuntary groan tore from his throat.

At last, with trembling fingers, he pressed against his forehead and shut his eyes.

“No… No, no, no, no.” With a careless step, Chuuya crashed to the floor. He tried to push himself up, but collapsed face-first onto the ground. He cursed himself for leaving his daughter with that demon. Damn it. “OSAMU DAZAI!!”

Just then, the door to the room burst open. The one who rushed in, panic heavy in her voice the moment she heard the cry, was Akiko Yosano. The sight of her made Chuuya’s face twist slightly—he didn’t want to see any of Dazai’s friends ever again.

“Chuu-kun! I heard you shouting, are you—” Yosano crouched beside him, trying to help him up as she spoke. In return, all she received was a harsh slap from Chuuya’s hand. He pulled away as if her touch sickened him.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!” Chuuya’s teeth ground together, his blue eyes blazing with fury. “You and your disgusting friends ruined my life! First you acted kind to me, and then you tricked me—turned my own daughter against me, is that it?! HOW DARE YOU!?” The crimson fire wrapping around his body forced the very weight of gravity to bend to him.

Yosano only sighed in understanding and rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long day.

“Alright, here we go again…” she said as she stood, smoothing her skirt with practiced grace before offering her hand to help Chuuya off the floor. “Do you remember what happened last? You told Dazai everything, and he recorded your words…”

“And then he took Hikari and left, is that it?” Chuuya got to his feet without taking Yosano’s hand, but his knees were too weak to hold him. He sank back onto the bed behind him. He still had no idea of the most crucial part of it all.

“No, actually…” Yosano exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. How was she supposed to explain this? Clearly, Chuuya remembered nothing from the moments when Arahabaki was in control. And before that argument, Hikari hadn’t even been in the room. If he heard how quickly everything had changed, he might have a complete breakdown. Maybe that would even be for the best. After all, Yosano was a doctor. Yes, maybe it would be better if Chuuya let it all out—if he cried, begged, screamed until it was gone.

Yosano rose and crossed to the cabinet in the room where the medical supplies were kept. With her back turned to Chuuya, she filled a syringe with a sedative and went on explaining. “During your fight with Dazai, we were in the room as well, trying to separate the two of you. Dazai was deliberately trying to provoke you, and we didn’t realize it. You… lost control a bit, I mean Arahabaki, right? The backup plan Dazai always mentioned during missions… It came out, and you started attacking him.”

“Did I hurt him?!” Chuuya tried to leap to his feet in panic, his eyes wide with shock and fear. The thought that he might have lost control like that sent ice rushing through his veins. Had Yosano brought him here to hide? To cover for him? Had he killed someone? Oh God, fuck! “No, I—”

“Oh, if only!” Yosano let out a mocking chuckle. “That waste of bandages would’ve actually enjoyed it, but don’t worry. Dazai’s—well, not perfectly fine, but he’s safe and mostly intact.” Her voice faltered for a moment, as if she had just realized the weight of what she was saying, a faint flinch running through her. “Chuuya…”

“What?”

"You hurt Hikari."

No one spoke.

Yosano tapped the top of the syringe a few times. She was certain it was fully filled now, perfectly ready to inject into Chuuya with a single swift motion. When she finally turned back, she expected to see anguish on his face, to hear him scream until his voice broke, to watch him unravel in panic—maybe even tear at his own hair in despair.

But none of that happened.

None of it happened.

Instead, Chuuya was calm. It was as if, in some corner of his mind, every nightmare he had ever buried was clawing its way to the surface and mingling with his memories. Slowly, he lifted a hand to his hair, and spoke with startling clarity. “So that’s why she called me a ‘monster.’ She saw it.” His voice was unnervingly steady, painfully normal. Far too calm. “She saw what kind of monster I really am.”

…

No one knows Chuuya better than I do. He was the cause of it all from the very beginning, caught me at my weakest moment and threw himself at me like a whore—”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Chuuya’s eyes went dark, the red in his hair merging with the blazing crimson aura around him. Gravity was beginning to hurl nearly everything in the office into the air. Dazai had crossed the line more than enough times today, but this—this was too much, even for him. Chuuya had always known Dazai flirted with every woman he met, treating them all like playthings, but the Dazai he knew was not this. His voice had grown monstrous. “Don’t forget, ‘Samu… I can kill you without ever laying a hand on you.”

Ranpo had his hands in his pockets, tilting his cap slightly. His eyes were half-lidded, but his grin was sly. He and Dazai exchanged a brief glance. It looked like their plan had worked. Chuuya was angry enough now, and there was no chance he’d let go of that rage anytime soon.

…

“CHUUYA, DON’T!—” Yosano tried to call out, but Chuuya was already directing gravity at Dazai, making every object he controlled fly toward him. Yet Dazai’s cunning, fluid movements let him dodge every strike with ease. It was as if he knew Chuuya’s every move before it happened.

…

“Dad!!” Hikari was already standing at the office door, having witnessed her father’s terrifying state. “DAD, DON’T!!” The instant she saw the pens about to launch toward Dazai, she lunged forward in sudden fear, planting her small body in front of him. And that—was the chance.

…

“H-h-hikari-c-chan…” Chuuya’s exhausted voice quivered against the floor, weak, almost like a plea.

They had to forget what had happened. Father and child had to go back home.

…

“MO—MONSTER!!” Hikari’s scream tore from his throat, his wide eyes brimming with terror. His pupils shrank in a traumatic flash, and his voice burned with raw desperation. “MONSTER!! MONSTER, MONSTER! MONSTER!!”

MONSTER!!!!

…

Yosano was clearly satisfied with his calm reaction, but her heart cracked all the same. Chuuya’s state of mind looked far too strange—too calm, unnervingly so. Suspicious.

And a single movement confirmed every one of her suspicions. In mere seconds, Chuuya snatched a dinner knife from the top of the dresser beside him and dragged it across his own throat.

“No…” the young woman breathed, her voice trembling as she stared at the body on the hospital bed, Chuuya’s throat now slit, her face carved with horror. “Fuck…”

Chuuya was dead.

Or rather, he had killed himself.

—

Dazai bounded up the apartment stairs two at a time, barely feeling the weight of the tiny body in his arms. Hikari’s head was tucked into the crook of his neck, her soft breaths filling and emptying her lungs in a steady rhythm. The child’s delicate fingers clung tightly to her father’s shirt, as if even in sleep her subconscious refused to let go. On Dazai’s face rested a rare expression, one so few had ever witnessed—a faint softening. The man usually known for false smiles, merciless mockery, and careless laughter was, for once, truly silent. Because for the first time, he was bringing someone home. And not just anyone. Someone who gave the word home meaning.

Someone of his own blood and flesh.

Someone as special and solitary as himself.

His daughter.

The footsteps following him were heavier. Kunikida’s arms were stacked with folders, grocery bags, and a few neatly wrapped boxes. Each step he took, he peered over his glasses at Dazai, grumbling inwardly. To him, this scene was nothing short of catastrophic. “Dazai should be the last person raising a child,” he muttered, “impulsive, disorganized, undisciplined… utterly irresponsible.” But this was the truth of it: Dazai was walking through the door with a little girl in his arms, and Kunikida was there to impose order on the chaos. Maybe for the sake of the Agency’s safety. Maybe for the sake of his own conscience.

Ranpo followed behind them, lugging a giant box full of toys. His face bore his usual childlike delight. He had stocked up on all kinds of sweets for Hikari—and for himself. He was certain the girl would adore them. Ranpo felt a bubbling excitement today. He had always seen Dazai as something of a younger brother; from the moment he joined the Agency, Ranpo had been the one who understood him best. Just like with Yosano, Ranpo thought he’d been a good big brother to Dazai. “I think Dazai’s going to do a fine job.” Ranpo said, giving a casual shrug. Besides, Hikari’s ability… yes, this girl was truly a gem for the ADA.

“Eh, if you two don’t talk so much and wake her up,” Dazai mocked lightly. Supporting Hikari at her hip with one arm, he fished the key from his coat pocket with the other and unlocked the door. “Welcome to hell!” Dazai laughed with playful cheer.

He pushed the apartment door open with his foot. Inside was dark, the windows shut, the air slightly stale. For a man who’d grown used to living alone, the apartment was like a fortress—no one allowed in, a place left to quietly rot within its own walls. But today, sunlight—and a brand new life—were crossing that threshold.

Without wasting a moment, Dazai laid Hikari down on the futon. Her lashes cast soft shadows across her cheeks, and the innocence of dreams rested on her face. He leaned down for a moment to brush her hair back. When he noticed his own hands trembling, his brows furrowed faintly; it startled him. Because he was afraid. He was afraid of losing. Of losing someone he had only just found and knew could slip away with the smallest misstep. But this time, he was determined to do whatever it took not to lose.

Behind him came the sound of bags being set down. With a heavy sigh, Kunikida started arranging the things he’d brought, one by one. “If we leave this like it is, it’ll turn into a dump in three days.” he said, his voice edged with irritation but underpinned by concern. Dazai only tilted his head slightly and gave a crooked grin.

“We got clothes for the kid, toys, books… You couldn’t have done any of this on your own, could you?” Kunikida’s tone was commanding, but the words were more accusation than question.

Dazai shrugged, stepping away from the futon to crack the window open. A light breeze slipped in, changing the air of the room. “My methods are different, Kunikida-kun,” he said with feigned cheer, though his voice was tired. “But you see, it’s working. Besides, my apartment’s full of books too, isn’t it?”

Kunikida’s brows drew together slightly as he crossed his arms. “You mean that stupid suicide book in thirty different languages?”

Oh. Right.

Ranpo set the box down on the table, slipped his hands into his pockets, and fixed his gaze on Hikari. “She’s a much stronger kid than you think. She’s only five, and yet she threw herself in front of Chuuya to protect you. I didn’t expect that at all, I’ll admit,” he said quietly. Dazai glanced at him sideways. Ranpo was right. In that moment, Hikari had tried to shield him. Even though the entire setup had been orchestrated by Dazai and Ranpo, no one could have predicted that the instant she arrived, Hikari would step in front of him.

“What if something had happened to her!?” Kunikida snapped, smacking Dazai on the head in fury. “Would you have taken responsibility for that? You never should’ve provoked Chuuya like that. You know how strong he is—”

“Kunikida-kunn~” Dazai grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. “That wasn’t my fault! Chibi’s always furious and stupid—if he can’t control his temper, what was I supposed to do? Just sit there quietly?” he muttered under his breath.

Just then, Ranpo nudged both Dazai and Kunikida lightly. “Look at that…” he said in a hushed but firm tone. He pulled out his phone and snapped a few cute pictures.

Hikari had shifted slightly on the futon, murmuring in her sleep. Dazai immediately crouched beside her, carefully fixing the blanket over her small frame. In that moment, all the chaos of the world, every custody battle, every shadow of past pain seemed to fade behind a curtain. Because here, on the futon, lay a five-year-old girl. And in her heart was a love strong enough, perhaps, to mend every missing piece inside Dazai.

Kunikida adjusted his glasses, and despite himself, the corners of his mouth twitched into the faintest line. He was stern, skeptical—but what he saw was undeniable. It was sweet. Too sweet. And he wanted to protect it.

Ranpo pulled up a chair and sat down, clasping his hands behind his head. “Hmm,” he said in a relaxed tone, “At least this place is finally going to feel a little more livable. And… being around you isn’t such a bad idea, is it, little brother?”

Dazai didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed on Hikari. But the thought running through his mind—perhaps for the first time in his life—was crystal clear. “Everything will be perfect.”

Chapter Text

“Thou Shalt Not Die!”

—

Paul had been excited when he received a call from Chuuya’s flip phone, but the moment he learned it was actually from a young doctor named Yosano—and that his little brother had attempted suicide—his blood ran cold. His hands trembled involuntarily as he rushed to the place he had been summoned. He had left him alone long enough. His precious, fragile, irreplaceable little brother…

Paul had done everything to keep Chuuya by his side. He had gone along with Dazai’s plan and prepared the final card that would take Hikari away from Chuuya. But hearing that his little brother had tried to take his own life ignited nothing but pure rage in him. He had fought so hard for Chuuya’s survival, pulled him out of that filthy laboratory with his own hands, watched over him. And now he was hearing that his brother had attempted suicide over a foolish little kid and a deceitful man. How dare he? Even speaking of it made Paul’s stomach churn.

He arrived at the safehouse Yosano had given him the address for quicker than expected, brushed off his coat with elegant precision, and kept his posture impeccable. Even in a situation like this, he had to remain composed, had to avoid losing control. The last time he’d faced circumstances like these, he had slaughtered all of Chuuya’s idiotic The Flag comrades and ruined his bond with his brother. Eh. That had been trivial.

When Yosano opened the door to the man said to be Chuuya’s only living family, the one saved in Chuuya’s phone as ‘Aniki’ she froze for a brief moment. This man really did look like Chuuya. His clothing, his face, even the color of his hair were different, but the way it was tied up was almost the same. The only real difference seemed to be their height, because this man was genuinely tall.

“You must be related to Chuuya, huh?” Yosano leaned against the doorframe, folding her arms. She had no choice but to question him—after all, she didn’t know Chuuya well enough to be certain who this man could actually be.

Paul raised a fist to his mouth, cleared his throat with a soft cough, and lifted one hand toward Yosano while keeping the other beneath his coat. If this woman really was a doctor, she would value this kind of discretion. “I’m Paul Verlaine, Chuuya’s elder brother.”

Yosano raised a brow before taking Paul’s hand and accepting the greeting. “I’m Akiko Yosano, the ADA’s doctor. Your brother has been treated in the ADA’s medical ward for some time now. He’s been through a long process. I thought today’s situation was somewhat personal, so I wanted to inform a family member…”

“Is he alive?”

Yosano exhaled, her tone firm and absolute. “If I hadn’t been there with him, he wouldn’t be.”

Paul narrowed his eyes uneasily. He didn’t fully understand what that was supposed to mean, but it was clear this wasn’t a trivial matter. Yosano’s decision to mention it could only mean the damage Chuuya had inflicted on himself was serious. It took everything for Paul to keep his stoic mask intact. He restrained himself, refusing to lash out. “Is he stable now?”

“Thanks to my ability, I was able to save him, but his consciousness is still shut down. I wrapped his neck and—” Yosano began to explain, but Paul had already stepped past her into the house and hurried toward the room he assumed Chuuya was in. He had no patience for empty words. Chuuya wasn’t even human; why were they wasting time talking about his mental and physical health?

When he entered, Paul froze in discomfort at the foot of the medical bed where his brother lay. Chuuya looked so small. The sweatpants on him were too loose, sagging off his frail body. A small bandage was taped to one side of his cheek—likely from a wound left by Arahabaki. His forehead and neck were also wrapped in bandages. His thin arms lay limp at his sides, an IV tube running into his vein. Chuuya’s red hair had grown longer over the past few days, now spilling across the white pillow. He looked angelic, his body as pale as the blanket covering him.

Paul let out a deep sigh and quickly turned toward the coat and hat at the foot of the bed that clearly belonged to Chuuya. He was going to prepare his brother and take him away from here. “I’m taking him.” Paul said. Yosano stared at him in shock at his sudden declaration.

“To where?” Yosano’s voice rose in protest. Taking him away now would be the most dangerous choice possible. “Do you not understand the seriousness of this situation? Chuuya attempted suicide! He tried to kill himself! If my ability hadn’t pulled him back from death, Chuuya would be DEAD right now!” She was trying to explain, but it felt like her words were falling on deaf ears. “If he’s not in the right environment, he’ll try again!”

“Then I’ll put him in the right environment,” Paul replied with unnerving calm. Maybe he could buy a hospital? Strap Chuuya to a proper bed and keep him there. As long as his brother was safe, nothing else mattered. Paul was a good older brother. “He shouldn’t be left here with strangers. I’ve already left him alone far too long—”

“Chuuya has more important things to do right now!” Yosano snapped, yanking the belongings out of Paul’s hands and tossing them back where they belonged, forcing his attention on her. “I understand your fear, but you NEED to listen to me.” Her voice cut sharp as ever.

“I don’t need to listen to anyone. I have the right to take my brother and leave.” With a single motion, Paul scooped up Chuuya’s unconscious body in a bridal carry, carefully avoiding the IV line. Holding Chuuya in his arms again after all these years gave him a strangely nostalgic sense of satisfaction.

Just then, the doorbell rang again. Yosano quickly gestured for Paul to stop before opening it. Paul wasn’t the only one she had called—she had also reached out to Kouyou. The woman saved in Chuuya’s contacts as ‘Ane-san’ Kouyou Ozaki of the Port Mafia stepped into the apartment, only to freeze in horror at the sight before her. Verlaine—the one responsible for the Flags’ deaths years ago, the man regarded as Chuuya’s so-called brother—was holding Chuuya’s small, bandaged, unconscious body in his arms. Right beside him stood Yosano, tense with worry, trapped helplessly between them.

She lost it.

“Where do you think you’re taking Chuuya?!” Kouyou shouted, lunging at Paul in fury; the apartment erupted, nerves frayed to the limit. She had never liked this man. “LET GO OF MY CHILD!”

Paul narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. It was as if a shadow she hadn’t seen in years had come back. Kouyou’s presence filled the room with the curse of the past all over again. Cradling Chuuya’s tiny, pale body, the corner of his mouth trembled involuntarily. “I’m taking him where he belongs. And how can you call him ‘my child’ when you have no claim to him? After all, you and your terrible mafia crew are the reason he’s been like this from the start.” Paul said, his voice almost a whisper but carrying a grim certainty.

“You’re a sick man, you know that?!” Kouyou’s brows knotted, the sleeves of her kimono rustling as she stepped aside. “He doesn’t belong with you! When you turned Chuuya’s world into a bloodbath years ago, you lost any right to be his big brother! And who are you to question me? YOU are the one with NO TIE TO HIM!”

Her words plunged the room into an ice-cold silence. Yosano found herself trapped between the two of them. On one side, a brother convinced of his own righteousness, on the other, a sister whose anger had been unleashed from its chains. Oh God, this was going to be difficult — and all the worse with these two figures present beside a patient prone to suicide.

Paul tilted his head slightly. “You speak of my brother. He has no one else. I pulled him out of that laboratory; I tried to raise him like a normal child, I dreamed of raising him forever in a happy home in the French countryside, and you ruined that dream. You merely sacrificed him to your fights. Tell me, in this situation, which of us is right?”

Kouyou’s face drained of color; her lips trembled. “And how did you show it? By tearing apart all of Chuuya’s friends? You can’t know how much he suffered after that disgusting day… You only deepened Chuuya’s pain, Verlaine.”

Those words stabbed into Paul’s heart like a knife, yet not a single crack formed across his face. On the contrary, he pulled Chuuya tighter against his chest, as if seeking refuge in his brother’s warmth, as though clinging to the proof that what Kouyou said couldn’t possibly be true.

Yosano cut in, her voice brimming with both anger and desperation. “That’s enough! This isn’t the time for your arguments! If you keep tugging him back and forth like this, I might not be able to bring him back next time! No matter what, he has to stay here. Whatever he does to himself, the only way to keep him safe without further damaging his mental health is this.”

Her words rang out like a scream. Paul hesitated for a moment, glancing down at Chuuya’s face. He looked fragile enough that even the faintest breath might shatter him. Paul sighed and turned to Yosano. “Do you have a report on Chuuya’s suicide attempt?”

“Hah.” Yosano rolled her eyes mockingly. “God. Now you don’t even trust me?” She let out a heavy sigh. “Fine, I can put that together for you. After that, Chuuya can stay here for a few more days, and once everything stabilizes you can take him—”

“No.” Kouyou spat the word like venom, glaring straight at Paul. “Chuuya… is also my brother. I won’t hand him over to this man alone. I will NEVER trust him.”

The air in the room thickened, oppressive. Silence fell, but it was the kind of silence that comes just before a storm. Paul’s fingers gripped more tightly against Chuuya’s shoulder, while Kouyou’s eyes pierced into him like daggers. “Your shitty trust means nothing to me.” Paul hissed, his gaze locking with hers. Sparks crackled in the air between them.

And yet, in the midst of all this clashing, Chuuya remained silent, buried deep within his slumber.

Chapter Text

Dazai was sitting on the small balcony of his apartment in the middle of the night, smoking a cigarette and using the iron railing as an ashtray, his elbows resting lazily on it. His thoughts were clear and sharp; nothing he felt disturbed him. Yet, there was a heavy fatigue in his body — not the kind that sleep could cure. It was the exhaustion of simply existing, the dull ache of living in uncertainty. Still, it felt different this time. His heart hurt. It was an odd kind of discomfort, like realizing you’ve left something burning on the stove. Dazai never made mistakes. So what had he done? What was pushing him into this strange, tense unease?

The sudden ring of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts, and his hand immediately reached for the device resting on the wicker table beside him. In truth, Dazai had several phones. After all, a man shrouded in secrecy and betrayal, with ties to both the PM and the ADA, couldn’t possibly manage with just one line, could he?

And this particular number belonged to someone especially dangerous.

Paul Verlaine.

Dazai grimaced and rolled his eyes. God. He truly hated this man. It was difficult enough having to speak with him at all, especially because of the custody situation involving his daughter. Every other sentence out of Paul’s mouth was some accusation about how Dazai had ruined Chuuya’s future. As if he cared.

No—actually, Dazai *did* care about Chuuya. They had fought side by side for years. He had watched Chuuya risk everything for him, watched him use his corruption to help and trust him without hesitation. In those moments, Dazai couldn’t stop himself from wondering what would happen if he ever arrived too late. Chuuya held a place in his life that no one else could. They were the only two who truly understood each other. He thought about him day and night—even now.

Besides, he was the only one Dazai had ever truly lost control with, which meant… he had taken pleasure in it. Far too much pleasure. Normally, Dazai was cautious enough to avoid leaving any lasting consequences from such encounters, yet this time… he couldn’t blame it on drunkenness. He had genuinely liked it— liked him. Chuuya had been something Dazai wanted to keep around, a dangerous little indulgence he enjoyed far more than he should have.

To Dazai, Chuuya was a pawn. A plaything. A source of amusement and distraction. And Dazai intended to keep that privilege exclusively to himself.

But right now, there was a call he needed to answer.

“What made you think of me at this hour, Verlaine?” Dazai asked as he answered the phone, crushing the last of his cigarette between his fingers before flicking it off the balcony.

It didn’t take long for a response to come from the other end. Paul exhaled slowly before speaking. He didn’t want to indulge Dazai’s arrogance by feeding into it. He went straight to the point. “Chuuya committed suicide.”

The phone nearly slipped from Dazai’s hand. The mocking smile on his face froze in place, his lips trembling as his expression twisted with a faint, almost painful grimace.

“What the hell did he—?”

“Chuuya killed himself because of you.” Paul’s voice was far too calm for the situation. He should’ve stormed into Dazai’s apartment by now, torn him into a thousand pieces, and burned what was left inside a bus. “He slit his throat.”

Dazai’s hands curled into fists. His eyes lingered, for just a moment, on the small body of Hikari—sleeping peacefully on the futon in the room where the balcony door stood open. Chuuya’s death wasn’t part of the plan. No, absolutely not. Chuuya was supposed to live no matter what—he was the mother of Dazai’s daughter. He had no right to die. What would Hikari do when she heard about this? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Dazai dropped to the floor for a moment, pressing his hand against his forehead. Chuuya… that damn man with red hair, blue eyes, that beautiful body Dazai could never get out of his mind. He hated him—hated him like hell, but his death was never part of the plan. Dazai wanted to see Chuuya writhing in pain, crying, begging at his feet. Dead, he was useless. Stupid Chibi—how could he throw his life away so easily?

“I’m grateful to your friend named Yosano,” Paul continued, revealing the rest of the story. Yosano and her ability were a blessing. “Her ability is what kept Chuuya alive through that reckless act.”

“Wha… what did you just say?” Dazai’s eyes twitched. “Chuuya’s alive? He’s alive—? Is he alright?” For a moment, he was breathless. His mind was so scattered he had even forgotten about Yosano’s ability. But did that change anything? Chuuya had still tried to kill himself… And only one person could push him that far. If Chuuya wanted to die so badly, Dazai would force him to live. After all, Chuuya’s most precious thing was still in Dazai’s hands. Hikari.

“He’s fine. Yosano is checking on him frequently in case he tries something like that again when he wakes." Paul sighed, already at the foot of Chuuya's bed. "It's just—"

"How did you let him do this?!" Dazai had thrust his phone-less hand into a fist; the bandages were nearly starting to bleed again. "Isn't it funny? You keep talking about protecting Chuuya, but he manages to kill himself like an fucking idiot? Damn it! You had one job and that was to take Chuuya away! But do you know what? Go to hell! Kouyou will learn everything and stay with Chuuya. You're not taking him. NEVER."

"You're forgetting who you're talking to, Dazai." Paul's eyes narrowed with seriousness. He wouldn't miss the chance to take Chuuya. Not again. "We have an alliance, we want to take the things that are valuable to both of us. And most importantly, I have a lot of leverage on you... I can either sink you or pull you up."

"And what, you want me to say, 'Oh my god I'm so scared!'? Or should I call Kouyou right now and tell her that you were the one who started the plans on Chuuya and the one helping us from the beginning, hmm? Verlaine?" The corner of his lip curled with satisfaction. "What do you want me to do? Get rid of a useless thing like you?"

Paul's eyes widened. "If you do that I won't be the only one to blame. We'll both end up jailed for forgery on the file. You won't take Hikari and I won't take Chuuya."

"Hahahahah!" Dazai couldn't stop; he writhed with laughter. "I've committed a lot of crimes in my life. Are you sure that'll stop me? We'll both get out of this. The state is useless — a two-sided piece of shit. On one side, the king of assassins Paul Verlaine; on the other, former mafia boss Osamu Dazai. The only person who will punish you is Chuuya."

"I'll kill you."

"Oh, I'd love to see that~" Dazai smiled, completely unfazed by the threat. It was an important trump card. In other words, if Verlaine were going to kill Dazai, he would have done it already. "Fine then, let's play this game by the rules. I don't want my husband to kill himself, that would be utterly traumatic for my daughter and I'm a good father. Maybe I should lock Chuuya up in a psychiatric hospital, or chain him in PM's foggy basement? How does 'basement' sound? You like basements."

"I have something that both of us will like even more, Dazai." Paul crossed his arms and rifled through the files in his hand while tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder. "This will be the perfect solution that fits both your rules and mine. But first, let's wait for the court date, unlike you, in this matter I'm on the state's side." Paul's smile turned devilish.

Dazai leaned his elbows on the balcony railing and smiled as if he could read his mind. There was only one way for both of them to get what they wanted, and whether they could pull it off was now entirely in their hands.

—

The room felt like a frozen tomb. Silence breathed through the walls, steeped in the scent of medicine; the morning light filtering through the thick curtains struck Chuuya’s pale face in a thin line, casting a shadowed shimmer over his skin. The air was heavy—metallic and sterile, tinged with the sharp blend of fresh blood and antiseptic. The sheets were those immaculate white ones from Yosano’s infirmary, cold as a hospital’s, yet between them lingered the dark residue of Chuuya’s presence: sweat, fear, and the unfinished intent of death. His neck was still wrapped in bandages, his fingertips bruised, faint traces of dried blood staining his skin. Yosano had brought him back—but there was a difference between being revived and being alive, and Chuuya had yet to master the latter.

His eyelids fluttered—not like someone waking from a long sleep, but like a soldier crawling out of the wreckage of war. He drew in a deep breath, unrecognizing the air filling his lungs; it was cold, unfamiliar. Pain bloomed in his chest, his heartbeat too strong, as if it might crack his ribs open. Then suddenly, everything returned—the mocking face of Dazai, Hikari’s trembling voice, her small hands recoiling from his touch. The memory replayed itself in his mind, so vividly that the walls around him seemed to close in. 

His breath caught; his eyes went wide as he whispered hoarsely, “Hikari… Where’s Hikari?” and tried to sit up in panic. The wounds along his body flared again, muscles tightening under the strain, but he didn’t care. The faster his heart pounded, the faster fear consumed him. “She… she was scared of me… She called me a monster… Dazai—Dazai scared her! SHE CALLED ME A MONSTER!” His voice cracked, the corners of his mouth trembled, and the words tangled and broke in his throat.

From the corner of the room, Kouyou Ozaki, who had been sitting quietly in an armchair, finally lifted her head. Her face, usually hidden behind an elegant mask of composure, looked like a statue carved out of grief. Her slender fingers gripped the edge of her fan so tightly she had unknowingly cracked it. She rose, her steps silent but steady as she approached him. “Chuuya…” she said softly—her tone gentle, yet edged with unwavering resolve; not like a blade, but like a mother’s hand.

Chuuya turned toward the voice, still breathing in ragged gasps, his eyes bloodshot. “Ane-san…” he whispered, his voice trembling, childlike, helpless. “She… Hikari… she doesn’t love me anymore.” His breath hitched. “SHE CALLED ME A MONSTER! MY DAUGHTER DOESN’T LOVE HER FATHER ANYMORE, I SHOULD DIE, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!—”

SLAP!

The harsh crack of the slap silenced him. It grounded him, dragged him back into the moment. Everything he had done—everything that had led to this—flashed before his eyes. Kouyou striking him was unexpected, but he understood why. Chuuya had made a terrible choice, and he deserved it.

"Ane-san..." A faint sound escaped Chuuya’s throat. Suddenly, Kouyou’s arms reached out for him again—this time, to pull him into a tight embrace.

“If you ever do something like this again, I won’t be this patient.” Kouyou’s voice was firm as she held Chuuya close, yet it still carried her usual grace and composure. She gripped his shoulders and shook him. “What you did was disgusting, do you understand me? Are you trying to follow Dazai’s example? And what about Hikari—have you thought about her at all? With a suicidal mother and a father obsessed with death, where do you think that girl will end up?”

Chuuya bit his lip, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m so tired. I can’t go on living like this. Dazai was right. I’m selfish… so damn selfish, but I can’t help it. I agreed to give birth to Hikari, and now we’re both miserable. Dazai always knows what to do, but I don’t…” His voice cracked, swallowed by his sobs.

Kouyou said nothing; she simply came closer. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she reached out her fingers, threading them through his messy red hair. His strands were damp with sweat, sticking together; he trembled like a child. “You’re safe now,” she whispered, bowing her head to gaze at a spot near his forehead. “No one can reach you. No one can make you go through that again.” But Chuuya didn’t seem to hear her words.

He pressed his hands to his face, tears slipping down over his bandages and dripping onto his knees. “It’s my fault… I hurt her. I hit her. I’m not even human, I’m a monster.” he said hoarsely. “I could never protect her… not like Dazai. Dazai’s a real man, fearless, brave, and worthy. He always knows what to do. I’m useless.”

Kouyou closed her eyes and exhaled. She touched his shoulders again and, without warning, pulled him back into her arms. She held him so tightly it was as if she were trying to keep his shattered soul from falling apart. “That’s enough.” she murmured against his ear. “Enough, Chuuya. Stop taking all the blame.”

Chuuya buried his face into his big sister’s shoulder and cried. His sobs were stifled, but his body trembled, his breathing uneven. “I was so scared…” he said, his words barely audible. “That look in her eyes… that fear… the way she ran from me…” His hands clung to Kouyou’s chest on instinct, seeking refuge like a child. “He took her away from me,” he said, “…and I couldn’t do anything.”

Kouyou’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t cry. “Dazai poisons everything he touches,” she said, her voice slow but sharp. “But his poison didn’t kill you from the inside. You’re still breathing. That alone is his defeat.” She lifted her hand, cupped one of Chuuya’s cheeks, and wiped a tear away with her thumb. “Hikari will understand one day. Children always realize who’s been lying eventually. But until that day comes, you have to stay standing.”

Chuuya lowered his gaze. The light in the room illuminated half his face, leaving the other half swallowed in shadow. The gleam in his blue eyes wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, but it was still there weak, trembling, but not extinguished. Chuuya didn’t speak for a long while. He only listened to Kouyou’s heartbeat. That rhythm was something soothing, proof that the world was still turning. His eyelids grew heavy, dried from crying. At the corner of his lips, a faint line appeared, barely noticeable; maybe a smile, maybe just the twitch of an exhausted muscle. “I want to be human.” he murmured, his voice half-asleep, half-hopeless.

Kouyou bowed her head and placed a kiss on his forehead. “You’re the strongest human I know, Chuuya…” she said. “More human than Dazai could ever be. No one can change how you feel. You are human and Hikari is the greatest proof of that.”

“But— but what about the trial? The custody hearing is tomorrow… What am I supposed to do then?” Chuuya buried his face into his big sister’s chest again. “How am I supposed to look Hikari in the eye? I don’t even know if she still wants to stay with me…”

“Hikari’s a very smart and kind girl.” Kouyou smiled gently. “The kindest, most thoughtful child I know. I think once she clears her head, she’ll see things differently.” Then she cupped Chuuya’s face tenderly and wiped away his tears. “But first, let’s get you cleaned up, hm? I brought you some clothes from the apartment. Then you need to eat something, you have to regain your strength.”

“I’m so tired… I could sleep for twenty-four hours.” Chuuya muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. He wasn’t exaggerating, coming back from the dead wasn’t exactly easy.

“Then I’ll have to force you into the bath,” Kouyou sighed in defeat. “Or would you rather I call Yosano?”

“AAWWW! NOOOO!!”

Chapter Text

Tokyo Family Court, 3rd Floor – Case No. 2025/Ω-314.

09:27 a.m.

The only sound echoing through the hall filled with cold, white lights was that of the slowly closing door. What followed was the faint rustling of papers being turned. The judge, a middle-aged woman with gray hair neatly tied at the nape of her neck, looked over her glasses with a heavy seriousness. The file in front of her had a thick, cream-colored cover. Inside were countless documents detailing the custody case of five-year-old Hikari Dazai, between Osamu Dazai and Chuuya Nakahara. As the judge continued to examine the documents, she glanced up at the plaintiff and the defendant. The contrast between the two was striking.

Chuuya sat on the left chair, closest to the bench. The black jacket he wore had been ironed the night before by Yosano—since Chuuya didn’t own any formal clothes suitable for court, he’d had to rush to borrow a few from her. He hadn’t even been home in weeks; this morning was the first time he’d showered in days and changed the bandages on his injured ankles. As if he hadn’t narrowly escaped death just two days ago. He placed his hand on his knee; the stress that had seeped all the way beneath his nails wouldn’t let him steady his breathing. Chuuya had never attended a trial before. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to do.

Across the room sat Dazai, as if this were not a courtroom but the library where he drank his morning coffee. One arm rested casually on the back of his chair, while the other hand gestured toward his lawyer—Ango as he whispered something. Of course Dazai had connections within the government; over the years, he’d made plenty of friends in high places. Chuuya, on the other hand, had lost everyone he’d ever had; The Flags, Adam… luck had never been so kind to him. In Dazai’s hazel eyes was that familiar mockery, that curved smile that made every muscle in Chuuya’s body tighten.

The judge brought down the gavel. “Court is now in session.” she announced, calm and authoritative.

Chuuya flinched at the sudden strike of the gavel — why the hell did they have to hit that damn thing? It felt so absurd. Although the weight of words could be made into a metaphorical art, everything in this courtroom irritated Chuuya. He wanted to stand up, walk over to Dazai, and break every bone in him. Those thoughts were interrupted by the judge’s speech and his focus shifted back to the old woman.

“The plaintiff, Osamu Dazai, and the defendant, Chuuya Nakahara, have filed for custody of five-year-old Hikari Dazai, who currently has no identification records. According to the plaintiff Dazai’s statement, Chuuya Nakahara disappeared after the child’s birth and did not inform the father about his daughter. During this period, Chuuya allegedly subjected Hikari to abuse that would devastate a child’s psyche, refused to allow her outside, and hid her for five years in an apartment maintained by a mafia organization. The little girl’s lack of identification records during this time, along with the circumstances of the birth, indicate it occurred in an underage and risky underground delivery room.” Although the judge recited this in a flat, stoic tone, the discomfort on her face was obvious.

“ABUSE?!—” Chuuya’s eyes widened in disbelief and he quickly looked toward Kouyou and Yosano, who sat at one end of the courtroom. Then, before he was even given the chance to speak, he objected. “I did not abuse my daughter, all I wanted was to protect her! There is something wrong here, a very big problem, I may have kept her locked at home but—”

The judge turned to the red-haired boy. “Please do not speak without permission,” she said in a flat voice. Then she folded her hands and sighed deeply. “Dazai, you say the defendant kept your daughter Hikari locked up since she was one year old; is that correct?”

Chuuya bit his lip, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. “Y-yes…” he raised his head. “But I only did those things to protect her—”

“From whom?”

“I was working for the mafia.” Chuuya’s face flushed with shame. “I didn’t want them to find out about my daughter.”

“You worked for a mafia?” The judge’s face twisted as she tried to process what she’d just heard. With every word that left Chuuya’s mouth, he sank deeper. The situation was becoming hopeless. “What kind of work did you do there?”

“I—” Chuuya’s mouth hung open, but no words came out. His eyes instinctively flicked toward Kouyou and Yosano again. How could he possibly say that he’d made a living by killing people? Dazai had once done the same, but now he had a hero’s record, and no one would ever believe Chuuya. “I was a cleaner… I didn’t know the place was filled with murderers. I’ve never gone to school before, so I just worked odd jobs to get by. Then I was hired by a company to clean rooms and houses.” He said this while avoiding eye contact, pretending to be nothing more than an ordinary janitor instead of a professional assassination manager for the mafia.

“So you didn’t know? And yet you continued living in the apartment the mafia provided for you…” The judge glanced toward her female assistants, signaling them to take notes before continuing. “Then why did you stay there once you found out?”

“I didn’t have money or family. There was no one I could trust. But I—”

“How did you plan to raise your daughter under those conditions? Your daughter had no ID card, no birth record. We’re talking about a small child who hasn’t even been vaccinated. You had no idea what kind of health problems she might have. How were you going to send her to school? How would she even learn to read or write?” The judge’s tone sharpened. “What you did was irresponsible.”

Chuuya’s hands were trembling; maybe for the first time, he felt truly desperate and powerless. There was nothing he could do. His blue eyes welled up despite himself, and as a few tears streamed down his freckled cheeks, he wiped them away with the back of his hand, struggling to speak—trying to stand tall—but nothing came out. “I—”

Ango rose to his feet and bowed gracefully. “Your Honor, I will speak on behalf of the plaintiff. I hereby declare that Osamu Dazai is the most suitable parent for the care and education of young Hikari.” His voice was cold, laced with the politeness of bureaucracy, cutting through Chuuya’s unfinished words.

The judge nodded. “Proceed.” she said, granting the floor to the plaintiff’s side.

That same cold, bureaucratic politeness lingered in the air.

Dazai tilted his head slightly and smiled. “What a sentimental morning, don’t you think, Your Honor? I believe Hikari’s future will be in good hands. After all, she’s been away from her father for five years, growing up in a dark place filled with dangerous dealings. I’d say this is her salvation.”

A brief silence fell. The whispers in the courtroom were quickly stifled.

Chuuya clenched his teeth. “In good hands, huh…” he muttered, not quite loud enough to be heard. His hands were balled tightly at his sides, trembling with anger. “YOU’RE A SUICIDAL, INSANE BASTARD!” The words burst out before he could stop himself.

The courtroom erupted once again with gasps and murmurs.

“Order in the court!” the judge shouted, slamming her gavel down.

Dazai’s smile widened as he crossed his arms and leaned back comfortably in his chair. “And how exactly do you plan to prove that?” His voice was steeped in confidence, radiating the smug composure of someone who believed he’d already won. Chuuya’s jaw locked tight.

On the benches to the side sat the members of the ADA. Kunikida held a folder in his lap, taking notes; the expression on his face carried the weight of a conscience trying to rationalize why standing by Dazai was the logical choice. He knew he’d sworn to testify in Dazai’s favor—but his heart didn’t seem entirely on board. Ranpo sat cross-legged on his seat, gnawing on an apple out of boredom. Atsushi had his head bowed, hands clasped together, while Kyouka sat beside him, eyes fixed on the floor. Her presence here was born of Dazai’s past help and of her trust in Atsushi. In the corner sat Akutagawa, motionless as a statue. Even as he looked at Dazai, his expression didn’t change; not a single muscle twitched. He’d convinced himself that everything would turn out fine—so much so that he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Chuuya.

Yosano sat on the opposite side of the courtroom, behind Chuuya. She held no documents, but her gaze alone was a defense. Beside her, Kouyou sat gracefully in her dark red kimono, embodying the image of family amidst the tension. Her eyes stayed on Chuuya, her face a portrait of quiet support. Yet both women knew—it wouldn’t be enough.

The judge closed the file, removed her glasses, and set them lightly on the table. “Defendant, Nakahara Chuuya. You’ve declared that you do not have legal representation, correct?”

Chuuya lifted his head. “Correct.”

“You’re representing yourself, then.”

“Yes. For my daughter’s custody, I don’t need anyone else.” There was a crack of pride in Chuuya’s voice broken but resolute and everyone in the courtroom heard it. “I gave birth to her, carried her inside me for nine months, and gave her everything I possibly could. I did everything to make her happy, to protect her. Dazai could never do that. He’s never thought of anyone but himself. If he had, he would’ve at least considered the consequences of a one-night stand and tried to contact me once. I never disappeared—he’s the one who ran away. That’s all I have to say.” His voice no longer trembled. He was firm now—tired, but sincere.

Dazai tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the stubbornness of an old friend. “Still fighting alone, as always, Chuuya,” he murmured under his breath. “It’s one of your more impressive traits~”

Ango elbowed him sharply. “Quiet,” he muttered. The air in the courtroom grew heavier. Dazai didn’t lose his smile. A glint of light flashed behind Ango’s glasses. “Your Honor,” Ango began, “the plaintiff has done everything in his power for the benefit of his daughter. He possesses a stable, documented income and has passed all institutionally approved psychological evaluations. Furthermore, since Hikari has not had consistent contact with her father since birth, it is her right to have that relationship restored. In recent days, Hikari has spent time with her father, and in none of those supervised visits has he shown any inappropriate or unstable behavior toward the child.”

He handed over a set of documents. From between the papers emerged a file, photos, reports, witness statements—all stamped with the seal of the Armed Detective Agency.

The judge took the file and began to review it. “Are the witnesses ready?”

Ango bowed his head. “Yes, the ADA members will testify.”

Kunikida stood up. He spoke with a slightly nervous, worried manner. He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to make a false statement about Dazai—he would never do that—he could only speak to what he had seen. “I am Doppo Kunikida, Dazai’s colleague and partner for the past five years. He is often irresponsible and sarcastic, but since the day he learned about his daughter his behavior has changed; all he wants is to claim the little girl he’s been deprived of during this time and build a future with her.” His words came out with mechanical conviction. “Also, we—the ADA—will always stand by Hikari. We will build her a future based on trust and planning.” As he said this his eyes drifted to Chuuya with a momentary guilt, then he immediately looked down.

“Our next witness is the ADA’s greatest detective, Edogawa Ranpo.”

Ranpo’s statement was shorter; he didn’t even stand, arms folded and one leg crossed over the other, having just been gnawing an apple and now with a lollipop in his mouth. “Dazai wouldn’t be a bad father. He just thinks differently. I’ve known him for a while—indeed, he’s the smartest man I’ve known besides myself. I’m sure he’ll do what’s best for Hikari.”

“Our other witness is Ryunnosuke Akutagawa… he too was once a small child under Osamu Dazai’s care—” Before the man could finish, Akutagawa cut in.

“Dazai-san is the most important person in my life and always will be; my respect for him is boundless. I’m grateful for everything he’s given me. If anyone says anything bad about him I will tear them apart with all my strength!—” He spoke very fast; Atsushi quickly walked over to his boyfriend and covered his mouth.

“Yes… I think that’s all.” Ango murmured in a low voice, then checked his watch and turned to Dazai. “Are you sure the last witness will come?” he whispered.

Dazai simply nodded with confidence.

In the end, they had all placed another stone on Dazai’s fortress.

Chuuya remained silent. He felt Kouyou crumpling a handkerchief beside him. Yosano, however, kept her head high and looked directly at Dazai. “Your Honor,” she said in a firm voice, “I would like to speak as well!”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Akiko Yosano, I work in the medical department of the ADA.” she explained. “I’ve known Chuuya for some time and I know he holds no ill will. I’ve stood by him through recent events. I witnessed Dazai manipulate him in many ways. That’s unacceptable, especially within our agency—”

“Oi Yosano-sensei~” Dazai interrupted suddenly, smiling with his usual easy air. “You always take the side of the poor thing, don’t you? Shouldn’t this be a matter of reason, not feelings?”

Yosano frowned sharply but kept her cool, steady tone. “I am a doctor; I know who will keep a child safe.” She struck the table with force. “If anyone is not using reason, it’s you—”

The judge struck her gavel once more. “Do not speak without permission.”

Rain had started outside; the sound of droplets sliding down the window completed the tension inside the room with a rhythmic pulse. Dazai laced his fingers together. “After all,” he said softly, “I am her father. I will secure a proper legal identity for my daughter through the state, keep her vaccinations regularly checked, enroll her in school from kindergarten when she’s of age, and make sure she socializes with peers. In short, I’m not living the chaotic life Chuuya claims—I’m just an ordinary man working a normal job. What do you think, Your Honor?”

Chuuya lifted his head. “An ordinary man? Which ordinary man has half his body wrapped in bandages?”

The courtroom froze at that moment.

Yosano smiled.

Ango’s pen paused for an instant.

And then a long, loud laugh cut through the silence. Dazai threw his head back, arms crossed, laughing. Everyone stared at him in shock. When his chuckles finally subsided, he looked into Chuuya’s eyes and smiled. “Look at us, Chuuya… Even here in court, we’re still dancing together.” He spread his arms wide. His voice grew serious, his gaze darkened. “All these bandages are wounds left from the so-called happy fake family I came from, because I had a rotten childhood in a disgusting household. I don’t want my daughter to go through that. I know best how to prevent that, because I remember how my father treated me—and I will never be that kind of father.”

The judge’s expression softened; everyone froze. Kunikida and the other ADA members looked shaken, hearing this version of Dazai’s past for the first time. Except for Ranpo—he knew it was all a lie. Dazai’s family had died when he was young, and he had lived in a mental institution until the age of twelve. Shortly after, he had escaped and come under Mori’s care. A hard spark lit in Chuuya’s eyes. Even if he tried to reject the information Dazai provided, he had no proof. And he couldn’t offer a better version himself—Chuuya didn’t even remember his own parents.

“Now we may proceed with the testimony of the young girl…” the judge said, turning to the security officer beside her.

This was the final point. Everything would be decided by Hikari’s statement.

Mother? Or father?

Little Hikari entered the courtroom clinging to Naomi and Junichiro’s coats. The moment Chuuya saw his daughter, he sank into his chair, frozen in place. Though only three days had passed, a longing surged within him as if he hadn’t seen her for years. Hikari’s eyes first fell on her mother, those hazel eyes lingered on Chuuya as she walked toward the center of the courtroom.

The judge gave the little girl a gentle greeting. “Hello, Hikari-chan. Do you know how old you are?” She tried to make sure the child was aware of herself—after all, she had spent her life within four walls.

“Five!” Hikari replied. “I can count up to ten, I love fish and dogs, and I love my daddy!”

Chuuya’s heart melted.

“Oh, how sweet!” the judge smiled. “Now… which daddy is this? I mean, is it Papa Dazai or Papa Chuuya?” she asked, wanting to be certain.

Hikari’s eyes flicked between the two sides, then she pointed her index finger at the seat where Chuuya was sitting. “Daddy!” she said, leaving no room for doubt. “Hikari’s daddy!”

Dazai showed no emotion, which somehow unsettled Yosano even more. Chuuya was completely captivated by Hikari’s charming words, clutching his heart with a surge of emotion.

His daughter had chosen him.

She still saw him as her father.

The judge sighed, maintaining her gentle and understanding tone as she cleaned her glasses. She put them back on, laced her fingers together, and turned to the little girl. “Alright then, Hikari, tell me—do you want to stay with Daddy Dazai or—“

At that moment, the door slammed open.

Paul Verlaine.

“Apologies for being late,” Paul said, buttoning the front of his jacket with extreme formal courtesy. “The traffic in Yokohama was quite unbearable.”

“Sir, you are interrupting the court,” the judge said. “May I ask who you are?”

“I am Paul—Paul Verlaine, owner of a licensed firearms company,” he said as he approached the area where the witnesses were seated, naturally omitting that he was the king of assassins. He also had enough money to genuinely own a company. “I am also Chuuya Nakahara’s elder brother from a different father,” he added. “That is why our surnames and lives differ. There is a fifteen-year age gap between us, but that does not negate the strong bond we share.” Paul’s eyes swept over Chuuya.

What a blatant, worthless lie.

“So, you are here as a witness for the defendant..?” the judge said, glancing down at the files.

“No, no, no.” Paul replied with a light chuckle. Removing his hat and holding it to his chest, he walked toward where Hikari stood and glanced at Dazai. Everything was going according to plan. “I am here as a witness for the plaintiff, Osamu Dazai.”

Everyone in the courtroom froze. The whispers grew louder. Kouyou and Yosano exchanged shocked glances. Chuuya’s eyes widened with a mixture of rage and disbelief. Dazai’s smile remained bright and alive.

“Please, Your Honor, take a look at these files in my hand,” Paul said as he handed over the documents, which included the papers Yosano had previously presented confirming the suicidal tendencies. “This is my brother’s general health report. When he was only seven years old, he stayed with me in France for a period. He constantly suffered from nightmares, had difficulty sleeping, and experienced bedwetting. He was neglectful of his own care. Eventually, he began to see continuous hallucinations and would injure himself while struggling with them. I grew more and more worried for his sanity every day.”

What?—

The judge’s expression changed as she examined the files. She looked at Chuuya with pity, as if seeing for the first time the reports he had tried so hard to defend himself against with his proud posture.

“I wanted to get my brother treated; I could have helped him… But he ran off to Japan and slept with the first man he found. I suppose it was love? Or one of his insane hallucinations,” Paul continued, speaking as though everything were obvious. “My brother is very precious to me, but I do not want this little girl—my niece, to be harmed either.”

“PAUL!” Chuuya couldn’t hold back any longer. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT! YOU FILTHY BASTARD! YOU SON OF A BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU!—” He lunged from his seat to attack Paul but was restrained by security, thrashing uselessly. “I’LL MAKE YOU REGRET IT YOUR WHOLE LIFE, YOU ANIMAL!!”

“See?” Paul replied, unfazed. “My brother is an angry, violence-prone madman. He even thinks he’s a man. As a woman, he doesn’t even fulfill the responsibilities of his gender—“

“SHUT UP!” Chuuya screamed. After knocking two guards to the floor with two kicks, he was about to unleash his full fury on Paul. But a hand grabbed him and froze him in place.

Dazai.

“FUCK OFF! I’LL KILL YOU! YOU RUINED MY LIFE! I’LL TEAR YOU APART, YOU’LL WISH YOU WERE DEAD! I SHOULD’VE RIPPED YOU TO PIECES FROM THE START!” Chuuya struggled to break free from Dazai’s grip, but when Dazai seized the back of his neck, pulled him close to his chest, and spoke with mock intimacy, Chuuya—overcome by rage—realized the mistake he had just made.

Dazai had planned everything again.

“Shh… You’re okay, Chuuya… Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can for your treatment, I won’t leave you alone.” Dazai crooned with false concern, gently stroking Chuuya’s red hair as he spoke with polite tones. “I can’t stand seeing you like this, my love… I always blame myself, I wish I could have been there… I wish things had been different… But don’t worry, I’ll take responsibility, and once you recover we can be together again.” Dazai rested his chin on Chuuya’s head and held him tight, draining every ounce of energy from him.

“As I said…” Paul spoke one last time, watching how fearfully Hikari witnessed the events. “As much as I want my little niece to stay with Chuuya, the person who can take care of her best is Osamu Dazai.”

The judge sat frozen as if she were part of the courtroom itself.

The gavel struck one final time. “Based on the testimony of the witnesses and the evidence presented, the plaintiff Osamu Dazai is hereby awarded custody of his daughter Hikari Dazai. Pursuant to Article 46, the defendant Chuuya Nakahara, due to his problematic past, his psychological disorders to the extent that he cannot care for himself, and his issues with self-harm, shall be committed to the Yokohama State Rehabilitation Center for a period of eight months.”

“OBJECTION!” Yosano tried. “I’m a doctor—This isn’t how it works, I would know if it were… I—” she tried to speak. She was sweating from the tension.

“Ah… Please.” Ranpo said, crossing his legs. “Yosano… we all know you’re not a real doctor.” He spoke with a sly smile on his face. “In your past you did nothing but hurt people… More than that, many people killed themselves because of you. You’re just a murderer.”

What..?

And with that final blow, Yosano collapsed.

There was nothing left.