Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Content Warnings: Mori is a weirdo, Implied Abuse, Dehumanization, Mentions of suicide (not explicit)

Ogai Mori was a cautious man, yet more than that deep where any other man would have their heart - is a deep pit of desire bubbling beneath his skin awaiting to be realized at the proper time and place. In fact, it would be easy to say that Ogai Mori’s entire being was that of desire. So now, sitting as his desk with his dearest Elise at his side as he reads a long letter from Chief Taneda of the Special Division for Unusual Powers, all he can do is let a small chuckle boil over his persona as Port Mafia boss.

“Rintaro, why are you making stupid faces again?” his dearest Elise pouted at him as she stopped playing with the bow in her air and looked up at Mori. In an instant the 36 year old man whose mere name could end the lives of an entire rival organization, was broken down into a fit of blushing hysteria.

“Oh Elise, Rintaro isn’t making stupid faces! I’ve just received some wonderful news; I apologize if my face offended you! Maybe I can get you into the creme color dress we got last Thursday?”

Immediately, the pouty Elise stood up and kicked Mori in the shin as she crossed her arms in defiance. As she did this Mori exaggerated the pain from his own ability a bit as he grabbed at his shin and mimicked crying at Elise for a moment before his demeanor changed once again, reforming into the Mafia Boss persona he has long assumed since his previous employer died of sickness.

“Elise, while usually I would love to bicker and play along with you until I got you into that dress, I must ask for now that you be dismissed. I need Dazai for something and you know how he can be when he hasn’t attempted in a while.”

With a wave of his hand, Elise was rendered from flesh to fleeting purple lights as Vita Sexualis was dismissed. He got up as his chest felt heavier now, the desires within him repressed alongside Vita Sexualis as if one in the same. Losing the smirk which had grown onto his face he flipped open his phone and contacted Dazai. When the first call was ignored, he gritted his teeth and dialed again. This time under Dazai’s primary phone and not his work burner. When he heard sound begin to come out from the other side he immediately interjected before any complaints or expletives could be muttered.

“My office, at your soonest convenience. The mission in Azamino is to be delegated to your ward with Higuchi assisting. Bring Chuuya along with you, this shall require both of your presences.”

---

Osamu Dazai was an antithetical existence with no human parts yet played the part of a lost child so expertly well. Or perhaps No Longer Human was the disguise, and the lost child was the real Osamu Dazai. These days he could hardly tell. He had been tasked originally to perform minor reconnaissance on a small time Azamino gang that had recently found themselves an Ability-User, but it would seem this excuse of a vacation would be cut short by Mori. What an ass that old man could be.

The only thing that made it worth it was the way the slug’s face changed when he heard Mori had requested both of us to his office. Even willingly canceling a mission he had orchestrated. Both of them knew this either meant something of greater importance has arrived or one of them had finally crossed the line a bit too far. Dazai’s dogs didn’t bite and when they did, he hoped it’d kill him - when Mori’s dogs don’t bite, and if they do, they are euthanized and discarded.

When the door opened, he couldn’t help himself but to sigh inwardly as the sight of Mori smiling with his head resting upon his interwoven hands was never a good sign. Chuuya remained behind him still wary, and Dazai couldn’t blame him. They had worked together for about three years now and while they grew closer and Double Black more powerful, even Dazai wasn’t cruel enough to subject his dog to Mori. In Dazai’s mind the more Chuuya participated in the Port Mafia while circumnavigating around Mori, the better off Chuuya was.

“Did you finally concoct a way for me to kill myself peacefully? What are we gonna try this time, huuuuh? Mori-san come on don’t keeep me waiting”

The flash of a falter in Mori’s smirk as his eyes darkened a bit was just what Dazai had wanted. Pushing his own luck was what made life in the Port worth it, if you could ever call life that. Using the dab of adrenaline, he appeared directly before Mori’s desk throwing his shoulders onto it while looking up at Mori with a beaming and fake smile. Dazai knew his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He knew it was imperfect, not good enough for the job or even daily routine but god was it good enough to rile Mori up. Maybe this time he’d hit me, and I can make fun of him as he apologizes up and down. That’s always good.

“Get your shoulders off of my desk, haven’t I taught you better than this? Really, no manners these days. Anyway, I need the two of you for a high-profile mission. “

Chuuya still hadn’t unstiffened. Although at the mention of a mission, confirming the worst had not come to be, he relaxed slightly. Maybe I was getting to used to my dog, but it was discomforting seeing him so tense even if Dazai knew it was the logical result of having any conversation with Mori.

“The Special Division for Unusual Powers has some concerns over the recent developments in the world with Metahumans, Aliens, and Supernatural becoming status quo in places like America. As such more thorough research into such matters is needed and I had a swell idea for co-operation!”

The more Mori speaks the more skeptical Dazai becomes. He had seen things like News about the Justice League but more often than not they seemed a little too black and white to actually be interesting. There was no way an organization like that actually existed in the way others thought it did. The whole concept of Metahumans while interesting, disturbed Dazai slightly. Curiosity called out to him whether some ancient ability that could mutate into almost an endless array of ability-like phenomenon had embedded itself to a less metaphysical state and instead to the genealogy of some Adam of metahumans or if Metahumans were a parallel anomaly to Ability-Users and not one in the same.

“I proposed to Taneda-san that seeding Special Division operatives overseas risked Yokohama far too greatly and that instead perhaps we the Port Mafia could lighten the load for him. As you know, we have begun attempting to get back on the good side of the Special Division after the former Boss squandered most of our good standings with his fleeting moments of sickness and lunacy.”

At the mention of the former boss, Dazai could only look at his feet for a moment as his shoulders stiffened and his vision filled itself with old memories of a scalpel as an old, frail pathetic figure choked on his own blood and caked the walls in his memory.

“I have chosen the two of you as I feel that you would be both excellent means of research and excellent test subjects! The Special Division approved and by the beginning of next week you will begin your mission disguised as students in a Gotham Public Highschool.”

“Higschool!?” both members of Soukoku exclaim as if Mori had put the both of them on a mission that meant certain death.

“Yes, you are both of similar age and of late Highschool ages for those in America. I think you will do wonderful in such an environment maybe it’ll put some etiquette into the both of you. You have until the mission begins to research on Gotham. Don’t worry too hard, we chose Gotham specifically as its brand of freaks usually involves at most a Metahuman, so we don’t have to worry about the exceedingly worrying question on if Dazai’s ability functions on Alien physiology of the likes of the Kryptonian heroes of Metropolis.”

Dazai found a frown covering his face. Every word sounded so foreign to him - what the hell is a Gotham? Most of the freaks he saw online in America were spandex wearing weirdos who seemed to either be rich and scientific or some brand of Metahuman. The concept of even No Longer Human failing him in such a setting for some reason sat deep in his stomach and he couldn’t find it in himself to explain why. He’d heard things about Kryptonians and Martians but had never really given them much thought because his only worries were Odasaku, Yokohoma, death, and maybe his dog. Perhaps he had been too foolish, his abilities made him the ultimate weapon against the supernatural and yet now he felt as though there was a chance he could meet an enemy he couldn’t force to an equal standing. Maybe he was wrong, maybe both of them were and No Longer Human exceeded the stipulation of negating abilities like they had thought and simply negated all things supernatural - but even with theories founded in strange optimism his chest still felt weird as he retreated with Chuuya only half paying attention to the world around him.

His silence seemingly worried Chuuya who like an obedient dog had taken to glancing at him every few seconds not wanting to break the silence but obviously disoriented by it. By the time they had gotten down the corridor, Dazai's favorite dog couldn't take it anymore and pulled Dazai aside staring down from a window as he began to finally relax his shoulders. The whole business with N had really messed with Chuuya's ability to deal with creepy old men huh.

"What the fuck was that Dazai. You barely spoke the whole time, how are you gonna let some bullshit about freaks in Spandex get you all down! Not like I care all too much whether you pout all day and drag your feet but its also really fucking annoying y'know?"

It was as if the sky had cleared during a rainy day. Dazai couldn't explain it but maybe the carefree way Chuuya spoke had spurred him, or maybe it was something more. The demeanor of Dazai followed the redheaded slug's suit and loosened considerably as mischief found its way to Dazai's face and Chuuya made a face that seemed to scream the expletives in his head for him.

"What a good and loyal dog barking for his master~ I bet you had that saved up! You should have said that whole schpiel in front of Mori, he would have loved it. God, what did I do to deserve such a loyal dog as a subordinate."

The more Dazai quipped the redder Chuuya got, and the redder Chuuya got - the more Dazai pushed. It was a dangerous game but there was also no better game to Dazai. He can see in his head wonderful visions of Chuuya's rage overtaking him and profound glimpses of that angelic state he calls corruption. Instead, Dazai feels the wind leave his throat as a shoulder presses into his windpipe and Chuuya's powerful arms put him against the wall. He was quicker than Dazai had expected and he could already feel the coppery taste of blood in his mouth from where his own teeth had bitten into part of his tongue.

"Shut up you stupid fish, I was trying to help you asshole!"

"How scandalous, first you praise me then you throw me against the wall~ My my Chuuya are you trying to get a taste?"

Chuuya's face flushes at Dazai's goading and immediately his arms relax dropping Dazai to the ground. Before Dazai can stand back up, Chuuya has turned around and begun to walk away with his hands in his pockets.

"God you're such a fucking weirdo sometimes Mackeral. I'm going to talk to Ane-san about Gotham, you go do something that isn't trying to piss off someone. Also I'm not your fucking dog!"

Dazai stays on the ground for awhile watching the retreating form of Chuuya and taking a few liberties to stare for moments at things he doesn't quite realize he wants. Perhaps he does but refuses to believe it. With a grin any person except his dog and Mori would fear, Dazai stands and wanders down the corridor thinking of what comes next. He only knew one place to start even all the way in Yokohoma he knew if Gotham was a major city for this sudden rise in Metahumans in spandex - it would somehow trace back to the Justice League.

Chapter Text

Chuuya Nakahara was a storm of turbulent emotions hidden in white clouds of calm and loyalty. Yet also someone who can’t help but attach himself to others and care for them with the power he has, a sheep in wolf’s clothing. Even now he stamps out the overwhelming feelings swelling in his chest as he looks out the window of the Port’s very own private jet. He can’t help but think back to a time just a few years ago where he and The Sheep stood against everything the Port Mafia stands for. He can’t help but to reminisce on Yuan and Shirase.

As the storm beneath his surface darkens for a moment, he disperses it by focusing on remembering what Ane-san had provided for him about Gotham. A city of gloom and darkness that did not hide its many evils, yet also a place where people congregated and put their few hopes together into a single beacon of light - The Bat. Conceptually it sounds insane, but the more Chuuya looked into he began to understand. Their police force, like many, was riddled with corruption beyond even that of some local authorities in Yokohama. This spandex wearing “Batman” seemed to be their only primary force of good or at least the source that brought it together. Other than that, it seemed that the longer The Bat existed in Gotham, more and more spandex freaks in his image would appear starting with his recruitment of a young bird.

Online forums speculating a lot on this family of bats and how many of them were actually the same people. It seems this comes from the Bat having a number of different “Robins” that took his side over the years. Other than Robin, the prominent names seemed to be Nightwing, Batgirl, Spoiler, The Black Bat, The Signal, Red Hood, and Batwoman. Occasionally other names would pop up like Blue Bird, Batwing, and Flamebird but they seemed less often especially in recent times. Flamebird seemingly operates with some team of spandex freaks called Titans West.

Outside the Bats, were a few other sporadic names that came up as considerations of “Gotham Heroes” were freaks like Gotham, Gotham Girl, Ragman, Mother Panic, The Creeper, Azrael, Ghostmaker, and quite a few others that appear sporadically or only for short periods. Then there were some “hero teams” that operated out of Gotham sometimes like The Birds of Prey and The Outsiders, whose rosters seem to change sporadically and at a whim. All of this was confusing and chaotic, especially when Chuuya went over the people considered heroes that were formally violent criminals standing in opposition to The Bat. It was antithetical to everything else he read. How was this city of oppression, gloom, and just general horror also a bastion of rehabilitation? The list was longer than Chuuya could have imagined with Catwoman, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Clayface all being talked about.

The city itself was a shithole. Any district that the wealthy did not care to live in had almost zero stability. Local governing bodies seemingly passed over them and only focused on their recovery during campaign trails and after disaster. Every square inch of Gotham’s dark streets seemed to be claimed by some loser gang. The number of names he had to learn when researching the gangs within pissed him off. English was already a difficult language to learn, especially since he only knew French and Japanese prior, and adding all of these costumed freaks to his vocabulary only made it worse. How did the people of Gotham speak without accidentally mentioning some spandex freak who claimed the bodega down the street was gang turf?

He hadn’t gotten the full mission brief yet, but he knew Dazai carried it with him, so he wasn’t too worried about going in completely blind. However, he did fear what sort of costumed freak they would be stuck with during the mission. There was almost no chance Mori had arranged this type of mission without integration with the locale. If they were lucky, it would be a normal mob family like the Falcones, but in his heart Chuuya doubts it. What was left of the Falcone family encounters the Bat maybe once a year, if that - their scale of business was just not on the level of the other costumed lunatics. Which means such an organization would be a horrible choice for their reconnaissance.

With a frown Chuuya adverts his attention from the window beside him to Dazai in the seats in front of him. The bandaged fish had originally sat by Chuuya but after an argument, over whether the main costumed freak actually called himself The Bat or Batman or if both were titles granted primarily by the media, he had gotten up and moved to the seats in front of Chuuya laying down on them and fidgeting with something in his hands till he ended up falling asleep. The brunette man now had his legs hanging off the seats and into the aisle while his arm braces his body against the wall and its window. The way his breath hitches and his face warps in his sleep catches Chuuya’s attention as every other thought leaves his body. For the rest of the jet’s journey Chuuya spends his time watching each breath the sleeping heap of bandages makes and the way his lips twitch and sometimes curl up as if he had made a dumb joke in his sleep.

---

As the jet lands, the duo known as ‘Double Black’ take the first step into America, into Gotham. The Archie Goodwin International Airport seemingly had been alerted by Mori beforehand and cleared the airspace for their jet. Pulling up to the duo was a sleek black car with heavily tinted windows. Chuuya seeing it had originally tensed up preparing himself for conflict, before a hand clasps his shoulder.

“Down dog, that’s our ride. Mori has an old friend who lives in Gotham that when Mori made contact immediately arranged a chauffeur for us.”

Dazai approached the vehicle before it had come to a stop, standing in its way as if wishing its driver would freak out and put his foot on the gas pedal - unfortunately for Dazai the car would stop upon seeing the young, bandaged man’s intentions. As it stopped a middle-aged man with a flat cap covering his head and sideburns decorating a majority of his face steps out and moves to open the door in the back of the car for the duo to enter.

“Hello there, on behalf of Wayne Enterprises I am to assist you to Miller Harbor. Please make yourself welcome. Wayne Enterprises had provided snacks and drinks to your liking. I will unfortunately have to mention to this point that US law does not allow for those under 21 to drink so please for legal reasons ignore the Champagne.”

After giving his spiel, which almost seemed practice, the duo entered the roomy backseat of the chauffeur’s car. Chuuya couldn’t help but to scoff when the Champagne was mentioned. Although he had become a fan of wine since joining the mafia and being introduced to it by Ane-san, he wasn’t dumb enough to risk the mission over some Champagne. That was until he saw it. Almost instantly after relaxing into the surprisingly comfortable red leather seats, he noticed the ice bucket with Champagne in it and recognized the bottle. Of the three bottles of Champagne, two were Armand de Brignac and neither were catalogue items. This meant these were custom bottles, and looking closer they had a tag on them thanking Wayne Enterprises. These were custom made bottles of Champagne gifted to Wayne Enterprises by Armdan de Brignac?

“Who is this Wayne guy and how is he so rich?”

“Oh, Chuuya I thought Ane-san gave you material to study how did you miss the most important piece of the puzzle that makes up Gotham? Did my dog skimp out on his research?”

“I’m not your fucking dog Dazai, say it again and the chauffeur will be cleaning you of these nice red leather seats you stupid mackerel. Anyway, this mission is to observe Metahumans and their closely related vigilante friends - not whatever rich white guy runs the city.”

Dazai looks at him like he is hurt for a moment with his hand going to his chest and a gasp being let out as if in shock. Even his eyes shine with shock, Chuuya hates how easy it is for him to change his face. Those dead fisheyes shining suddenly with life creeps him out more these days than the dead void that Chuuya knows is the truth. There was nothing behind them when Dazai didn’t have to mask and sometimes that truth scared Chuuya but it was the fact he felt the need to mask with Chuuya that really hurt.

“Well, well Chuuya that was the biggest blunder you could of made. Random white rich playboy #39330 is actually one of our anchors to Gotham. “

“Mori met him in his younger years while serving as a private doctor for Shihan Matsuda and Mori took a chance on the man remembering him and it turns out it did. “

“Our boss has somehow become a semi-fond memory for the billionaire so when Mori reached out with the excuse that he had become a Real Estate Tycoon with an interest in international business after realizing that private medicine was not a livable career, the old softie sold him an old highrise by the Miller Harbor. Wonder what the man would think if he knew the real Mori and not some teenage memory.”

Listening to Dazai he began to imagine what this billionaire was like to have met Mori for some time and to have developed a positive opinion of him. Perhaps he had some interest in human anatomy or philosophy that Mori was able to assist with? The doctor had always had some quantitative understanding of many such topics that perhaps the younger billionaire had pursued interest in? But in the same way, Chuuya had never heard the boss mention the billionaire nor Shihan Matsuda so perhaps it was even before Mori had served in the war.

Now he couldn’t help but to think of a young Mori in his late teens wistfully drinking beside a young billionaire as they lamented together about their shared teacher. Or perhaps an image of a young Mori complaining about the billionaire as he stitched up a wound. That seems more reasonable but why would the billionaire be injured and who was Shihan Matsuda to have acquired Mori as an attendant? It was all confusing and Chuuya couldn’t help but to frown as he chose to ignore it all and grab one of the bottles of Champagne admiring it in his hands.

“If he had such a fond memory of the Boss, perhaps he set out such expensive Champagne for one of us to take right? He’s a billionaire so surely, he has twisted his fair share of rules.”

Before Chuuya could continue to convince himself while the township of Sommerset flew by them, Dazai began to smirk. Instantly he knew that Dazai was about to say something that was going to get him punched.

“Oh, what a rabid dog, you already want to break the one rule the Chauffeur set for us? Mr. Wayne seems to be some sort of philanthropist so while maybe these gifts were meant for Mori-san I have a feeling he wouldn’t exactly mind if we took one. Although I don’t know how much it would shift the image Mori gave of us to him as ‘Mori’s wards’.”

Looking at the bottle for a few seconds, Chuuya stuffed it into one of his inner pockets and began perusing the snack selection noting that it included a lot of crab-related items as well as chazuke. Perhaps the Boss had told Mr. Wayne about Dazai and Chuuya a bit including some food preferences. If the Boss mentioned Dazai’s love for crab maybe he also mentioned Chuuya’s penchant for alcohol citing that he was of age in Japan? Not only that but chazuke with sweet red bean paste was one of the Boss’ favorites - this Wayne guy must have actually had good memories of the Boss.

It didn’t take long for the dreary streets to pass by until they reached an area that almost felt like home. The Miller Harbor, a surprisingly peaceful seeming area of the city at this time of day. Buildings upon buildings crowded together next to the sea with various ships entering and leaving the harbor bringing trade into Gotham. The car didn’t stop till it pulled into an empty parking area in front of a high-rise with a dark architectural style that made it difficult to discern from all the other buildings in the nearby area. The windows were all dark but a few, with the concrete spire being mostly empty. The windows with light seemed to only be on the first few floors. Perhaps to blend in the Boss had actually begun to rent out a few of its rooms to make it look like he was actually a tycoon in real estate.

“This will be your stop, I was told that as you exit, we would be please if you took a Wayne Enterprises business card with you. You can find them in the pocket of your door.”

Chuuya nodded at the chauffeur trying to show some respect as he shuffled off with a business card hiding his side from him so that the bulge of the Champagne bottle was unable to be noticed. As they entered the building a security guard began to approach them but stopped and returned where he was standing as he saw their faces.

Dazai led him up the stairs until they got to Room 1108 which Mori had reserved for them. Entering it seemed to be of similar size to any standard condo and was already furnished. The living room had a nice balcony connected to it that could overlook both the city skyline and the sea itself, while the rest of the place seemed to be pretty subpar from what Chuuya had seen since joining the Mafia. Every appliance seemed to be some sort of modern chic aesthetic, sleek and without emotion. It made his appreciation with the arts feel anger, but it subsided once he realized he still had the Champagne.

After putting it away, Chuuya discovered his first major problem with the condo. It had a single master bedroom and within it only a single bed. It was not a bed of small stature, but it was still only singular. Chuuya knew for certain that this mission had been given with the intention of a months long stakeout, hell maybe even year long, so why was their only one bed? He’d slept in the same bed as Dazai during missions before, sure, but for this long a time? Why the hell was Mori playing the cheapskate during a mission involving a billionaire connection?!

“Oh Chuuuya, looks like we’re together again. Mori-san must not have checked the rooms before he assigned them. There is one simple solution though, I obviously get the lion’s share of the bed and as my dog you get the foot!”

Chuuya bristled at Dazai’s voice not expecting him to come up behind him. Then as the bandaged fish spoke, he began to tremble as his annoyance seeped out into anger. Chuuya had held himself back too much since they had begun this mission and now, he was beginning to crack. As Dazai finished his sentence Chuuya threw his shoulder into Dazai’s stomach and grabbed at his collar pinning him against the doorframe.

“God, do you just say shit to piss me off you shitty mummy. We’ll share like we usually do but I’m knocking your teeth in if I feel you try anything.”

In his grip he can feel Dazai struggle weakly, likely doing it only for show as their bodies touched. He can see the stupid smile on Dazai’s face and as it gets wider - Chuuya lets go with a huff and backs up. Red had already begun to seep into Chuuya’s cheeks thinking of the stupid smile that didn’t match the eyes or the feeling of hot breath on his collar bone.

“Wow what a loyal dog, even when you bite you still end up trying to appeal to me. I don’t know what you mean about me trying something, I would never but I will keep your threat in mind~.”

Dazai’s smile dropped, and he returned to a neutral face as he brushed himself off and pulled out a yellow folder from his coat pocket. Opening it up he began to lay various pictures on the bed alongside a few documents and items.

“This is part of the mission brief, now that we’re here we will have two primary locations of observation. Mori likes to work local for these missions, so he has on “loan” as muscle for a few local gangs. The two gangs in question are the False Face Society led by Roman Sionis aka Black Mask, and the “Penguin Gang” led by Oswald Cobblepot aka The Penguin. Everything here has a gimmick its weird.”

Chuuya recognizes the names from his studying with Ane-san and a few cursory looks at some online forums. The Penguin is more of a traditional mob boss who runs a crew that is basically a successor to the Falcone Family, whilst Black Mask is more of a creepier figure some online forums say messes with minds on occasion. If the mind shit was true, he’s the one to look out for but the forums had also said he was rumored dead.

“Both right now have a common enemy in the form of one Red Hood, a mysterious individual who goes back and forth on his association with The Bats while going on sporadic murder sprees. This common enemy should make it easier for us to play into the disguises on both sides while indirectly observing The Bats. In such an aspect when working muscle our primary “objective” is the downfall of the Red Hood. If we actually want to do that who knows but the more, we do the more we learn.”

Red Hood was also someone who appeared in Chuuya’s searches. He seemed complicated sometimes touting himself as a crime boss who dispatches worse people and other times he plays the full part of a Bat. The dumbass also had a really bad fashion sense, Chuuya had accidentally stumbled on a site called “HunkyHeroes” and decided to see what Gotham had to offer, and Red Hood was a big offender in completely changing his outfit for the worse. If for the mission the duo has to switch sides, Chuuya thinks Red Hood could use some pointers.

“We balance life as three people here, and each identity shouldn’t be revealed as a member of the Port Mafia.”

“Our primary identity is that of wards of Mori-san who are here gauging value of the local housing market while attending the local high school, in this identity we can be ourselves for the most part. “

“For the muscle gigs we have two separate identities each, one for Roman and one for Oswald. We’ll take turns swapping shifts - when I’m working for Roman, you’ll be working for Oswald and vice versa. For Oswald we’ll need some pretty normal clothes for us, his group runs pretty similar to the Port. However, for Roman we’ll have to order some sort of mask so get to thinking about what you want - I tried to get Mori to get you a slug mask, but he told me to take this seriously. Blegh.”

Dazai seemed to get aggravated remembering a conversation with Mori and threw one of the items from the bed at Chuuya. It was smaller laminated folder with two IDs inside. One reads Horiki Kashimura and the other Kishō Taniyama. Their information was mostly in line with his own except a few minor deviations like a difference of a few inches in height and ten to twenty pounds in weight. The pictures are edited in line with the deviations and showcase different hairstyles - Kashimura wears their hair down while Taniyama has a shorter cut of hair.

“Those will be yours, for Kashimura you can take you contact lens out too. We also got burners, its the full works. Mori has put a surprising amount of work into this, it's kind of worrying when he gets like this.”

While Dazai is explaining it, Chuuya takes a peek at the IDs in Dazai’s hands. One reads Ōba Yōzō and the other Mamoru Miyano. Yōzō is a disturbing figure, Dazai’s bandage on his face is unwrapped and his bangs kept from his eyes - which aren’t hidden at all. The picture stares out like an abyss and Chuuya can’t help but to feel sorry a bit for whichever of the two bosses got the identity Dazai decided to be himself for - his actual self. At the same time, he felt a pang of some emotion he couldn’t put a finger on as he realized that Dazai was willing to be himself for the mission but not Chuuya.

The other one, Mamoru, has his hair pulled back into a short ponytail and in each ear are hooped earrings. On his face is a plastered smile that despite just seeing the picture of Yōzō, almost seems real. Just from a glance Chuuya knew the idea behind the identity - the mask Dazai wore most often the eccentric yet charming man who can make light out of most things.

“Chuuuya~ Stop looking so down we haven’t even started! We don’t meet with either of the bosses till next week and we don’t start school till Wednesday so the "transcripts” can process.”

Looking up Dazai had already noticed Chuuya’s glances and immediate souring of mood and had decided to take the opportunity to breach any sense of personal space. His face is mere inches from Chuuya’s as he complains. The familiar feeling in Chuuya’s gut stirs as annoyance and other emotions quickly replace his darker thoughts and a slight grin replaces a contemplative frown.

“You know what that means right? Right? We can go on a walk! Explore the city!”

“How about it? Does my dog want to go for a walk?”