Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The concrete was wet and cold under his palm. It slipped, crumbling little stones and bleeding hearts, sliding in the rain. It would be poetic if not for the lack of sense, Dazai thought glumly.

It was raining, which did not in fact add to the aesthetic Chuuya, and he was cold.

Very cold.

Heavy black jacket tucked around his shoulders, bandages itching and sopping wet, chest rattling every few moments as he hacked out another cough. Not only did the alleyway he was sat in smell like shit, he was dripping rainwater waiting for his informant.

Just as he thought that, soft footsteps began to echo throughout the space, a hum coming along with it. A girl, shorter than average, with colourful Band-Aids and a rain jacket several sizes too big. She smiled at him curled on the floor, braces glinting.

"Excuse me sir," Her voice was soft, careful. "I was wondering where the nearest convenience store is?"

Dazai hummed thoughtfully. "Right 'ere, Miko."

Yumiko, placated, sat beside him. Her hair was wet, sticking to her skin.

"I have what you need. Has me and Ryo's mission changed?" She picked at her nails, the polish chipping more.

"No. Can I have the stuff now, lovely?"

She rifled through the bag slung over her shoulder, eventually pulling out a binder. It was full of pages, almost overflowing, and he grinned. She was his best information broker, paid in safety and providing far more. "There's a USB in there as well, but for privacy I only included public information on there."

Dazai nodded, stuffing the folder into his jacket and standing. He gave her a salute of thanks and left, the rain still thundering down over him. He hoped none of his documents got too wet.

------

Dazai coughed harshly, grumbling to himself at the hot-cold feeling his body was putting him through. Apparently dissociating out in the rain wasn't a good idea, who would've thought? The illness wasn't major, just a nuisance, but it did make a conversation difficult. And by a conversation he means one specific 'talk'.

The brunet slammed his head into his desk and groaned out loud. Chibi was going to be so madddd...he hated long missions, and this one was due to last for at least 6 months. Mori had said (like a sadistic asshole, by the way) that he had to tell his partner of this. Seriously, Dazai was considering going the easy way out for the first time in a while! He knew a gun would get the job done, but brain matter was a pain to clean (he spoke from experience) and while he was an asshole he wasn't that bad. Maybe he was. You know what, self-reflection is for nerds, not teenagers in the mafia, fuck that.

Just as Dazai was about to slam his head down again, a hand grabbed him by the hair. Sharp prickly pain shot through his skull as he was pulled back and shoved against the back of his chair. Once he was sat properly, his brute of a partner let go and stalked in front of him.

"What?"

Dazai opened his mouth, fully prepared to bullshit his way through this conversation-

"I know that look you fishy bastard, tell me what we have to do before I tell the boss you're sick."

...really?

Dazai, for all it was worth, merely gave an unimpressed glare before flopping onto the desk. Chuuya didn't stop him this time. "We have to infiltrate a high school...for at least 6 months...outside of Yokohama."

Rip the band aid off, as they say.

(Chuuya threw him at a wall twice. Dazai wished he'd just used the gun at that point.)

------

The train ride outside of the city was...long. It was several hours cramped in a small space, pressed up against a sleepy ginger dog that drooled, with the promise of toture on the other side. Lovely. Dazai leant his head on top of Chuuya's, tucking his knees to his chest and allowing the ginger to further invade his space with a sigh.

They still had another ten or so minutes of this, and Dazai's legs were number than ever before. And he'd taken more paralysis drugs (willingly or unwillingly, mind you) than most people were even aware of. Mori had an oddly extensive collection of medication; it was frankly disturbing.

Absentmindedly, the taller began fiddling with Chuuya's hair. It was well kept, colourful in a way that was almost pretty, hanging around his dog's face like a halo. Flashes of red, blood and cracks and black holes that made him feel hollow flashed in Dazai's vision, and for a sickening moment he wondered what would happen if he didn't nullify Corruption. Gore and bones like monuments, jellybeans of organs and string beans blending in with intestines.

Dazai sniffed, the sickness only just abating.

He still felt congested, but it wasn't unbearable. Barely bad enough to warrant complaints, but the Chibi can fuck off because Dazai hated being ill.

Hated it with a burning passion, in fact.

Eventually, the ride was over. Dazai shook his partner awake, complaining about drool and how heavy his Chibi was, before he was pushed off the train by a certain ginger. Bleh. How rude of him.

The bags slung over each of their shoulders were heavy, Dazai's shoulder and chest aching in complaint. The bandages wrapped around his ribs were too tight, digging into his skin and flattening his chest. Mori seemed to find joy in his dysphoria, leeching off the scars and fatty wounds on his chest like a parasite. Dazai knew laws were irrelevant to the man, and he had the qualifications for top surgery-hell he could at least get a binder-but instead Dazai was left to wrap bandages around his breasts until his ribs bruised and his lungs gave up.

The train station was full of people, warm bodies pressed up against him, rubbing his body and it burnt. Fire, hot and wrong against his skin, the noise the smoke. Heavy and suffocating, filling his lungs and making his already ragged breathing worse.

Chuuya grabbed his wrist. Dazai flinched. Well, he didn't flinch, but he certainly got closer than he normally would. Eyes darting up, muscles tensing, but barely noticeable to someone paying attention. The ginger gave him an odd look, eyes shadowed with something unreadable, before dragging the taller out of the cramped space.

There were rows on rows of cars, Dazai recalling a message stating a teacher would pick them up. How interesting.

...

He didn't know which teacher.

He told Chuuya this and got a sharp tug on his ear in response. Dazai hissed, scrambling back with a pout. "My dog's so violent~"

"Shut up you goddamn-"

Someone clearing their throat put a stop to the bickering.

Dazai took a step back, allowing Chuuya to take his place by the taller's side, bag half off his shoulder so he could attack at a moments notice. Dazai's hand flickered down to where he would normally keep his gun, only to remember it wasn't there and aim for the dagger in one of his coat pockets instead.

The man who spoke has messy hair, dark and pooling around his face. Eyes shadowed with exhaustion, nose wrinkled. He had a scar underneath one of his eyes.

"...yes?" Chuuya eventually spoke, hands twitching. Dazai pressed his cold fingers into the gingers neck, a quiet warning not to cause a scene.

"Are you Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya?"

This was their ride? Wasn't U.A. rich as hell?

Dazai nodded sharply instead of questioning it further, tucking the Chibi into his side and grinning widely. "The one and only~unless you're trying to kidnap us, which in that case the sluggy slug isn't trained so-"

He received a hit to the head.

"Ignore him. Yes, are you the person meant to pick us up?"

The man nodded, looking at the two of them warily. "Aizawa Shouta, hero name: Eraserhead."

With that, he turned around and walked off. Soukoku trailed behind, tapping a modified version of morse code into each other's wrists. Actual morse code was too risky, so Dazai spent a few hours changing it around and making it indecipherable to others. It ended up useful, Chuuya could shut up.

Aizawa led them to a car, fully black and plain. He shoved them in the backseat, grumbling all the way, before starting the drive.

Off to hero school!

Dazai ignored Chuuya's glare from beside him.

------

Nezu's office smelt of old paper and tea, sweet and sickly but old all the same. The flickering lamplight didn't change the overall brightness of the room, overhead lights far too bright already, but it was annoying. Aizawa was slouched behind Nezu, his arms crossed and eyes distant, while Dazai and Chuuya sat in front of the rat bastard. Dazai wasn't bothered to call him anything else, the conniving excuse of a hero (was Nezu a hero?) grinning widely.

"I presume you know why Mori sent you?" Nezu cocked his head to the side, a shaky form of annoyance flickering in his eyes. A genuine question, he didn't know the answer.

Chuuya huffed. "Dazai probably does, the mackerel doesn't tell me anything-"

"Nope! Mori just said to, and I quote, 'appease the rat bastard living in the walls, I'll handle preparation'!" Dazai grinned, hands clapping together.

Aizawa muffled a laugh in his scarf. Nezu wrinkled his snout.

"You're here because, to be quite frank, rumours are circulating and I'd rather they didn't." Nezu paused, concern painting his features (fakefakefakefakefakefake) as he spoke. "There have been whispers about a rising villain organisation. Normally, I wouldn't be all that concerned, but one of the members...let's just say I'm concerned. For reasons I won't state, you're here to protect and defend Class 1-A for as long as I deem necessary, and by extension the rest of the school."

Dazai hummed, leaning onto Chuuya's shoulder. The fact he didn't get pushed off made him grin. The ginger just sighed, rubbing his nosebridge.

"So we're here to babysit brats for an undetermined amount of time?"

Dazai pat him on the head. "Yep! When do we start and where do we stay?"

Aizawa stepped forward now. "The first school day is in two days, U.A. has a set of on-campus dorms for teachers. You'll be staying there, as students don't stay in dorms."

Nezu nodded. "Eraserhead will show you around, don't worry about it!"

Dazai hummed.

His bandages were starting to bother him again. Digging into his skin and leaving angry red marks. Oh, the horror he went through to pass as a man...Chuuya eyed him. The slug always noticed when something was wrong, it was honestly annoying. Observant dog.

"Worrying would be unmanly, principle." Despite the supposed recipient of the words, Dazai could feel Chuuya's gaze burning into his back as he stood. Really Slug?

The first thing Chuuya had done when he first found out Dazai was trans had been to create a code. 'Manly', or any variation of it, in a sentence meant Chuuya knew something was up and he needed to verify whether it was gender related or not. Agreement with whatever he said was affirmation, it was related to his gender, a comment on the word manly itself meant something is wrong but it's not gender related, and disagreement was nothing is wrong.

Dazai stopped lying after the first few times.

"Agreed Chibi! But I will say manly is an odd way to describe it-" Somethings wrong, it's gender and something else. "Such a smart doggy! Picking up new words."

Chuuya didn't grace him with a response, and Nezu seemed oddly focused on the conversation. Aizawa led them from the office without much chatter, leading the pair down the halls.

Dazai looked away from his partner, avoiding eye contact. While he'd stopped lying about emotions (ew), he still found the fact his dog made him talk about them gross. How was he supposed to explain the perpetual feeling of wrongness? The way his skin stretched awkwardly over his bones and his nails felt brittle? The way he glared at himself in the mirror, praying to an unholy goddess for death? He couldn't. He wasn't scared, but he couldn't.

That wasn't something for anyone to know. The way he wanted his bones to stab through his flesh, the way he wanted fleshy pink entrails to drip from his stomach...he didn't want anyone to know that. Not even Chuuya.

Pulling his attention away from the bristling redhead, Dazai looked around him. The ceilings were freakishly tall, doorways matching the towering height. It was quiet, hollowed out. Like all the life had been leeched from the building the moment school ended. He assumed the rest of the faculty would start tomorrow, getting ready for school and so on. Well he didn't. He'd been to school, but he was young and stupid, with blurry thoughts and longer hair.

He remembered sterile-feeling bathrooms growing mould despite the heavy stillness. He remembered multiplication. He remembered other kids his age, eyes squinted with something mean. He remembered crying. He remembered forcing himself to stop crying.

He remembered deciding he wasn't a girl.

School wasn't pleasant, from what he could remember.

The tiled floors were scuffed and stained with dust and grime, clean and slippery despite the permanent markings. Like scars. Impurities you can't get rid of. Dazai wondered how the puddle-shaped brownish mark outside a classroom was formed. He wondered why there was a peeling poster (clearly years old) with 'these hips don't lie and neither do these chips' written on it, the number 42 on a slip of paper next to it. He wondered why one of the classrooms had a missing windowpane on its door.

Chuuya seemed equally curious, eyes squinted in concentration as he looked around. "Hey dumbass?"

Ah. There it is.

"Yes, slimy slug?" Dazai chirped back, dodging the kick sent his way with practiced precision and smiling.

"Have you ever attended a school?" The words were sharp, violent. Defensive. Dazai knew his dog hadn't, the lack of decorum made that obvious...the Chibi was hard to train, and Dazai didn't have enough treats (wine) to spare.

"Yep!" He grinned instead of stating his first thought. He's being nice, shocking. "But I don't remember it. Wasn't pleasant, but maybe that was because people called me a-"

Dazai stopped himself. He didn't want Aizawa to know. He didn't want Chuuya to know, or Mori, or anyone, but here he was. He brushed it off, shrugging loosely in the Slug's direction.

"So I assume you don't know algebra?" The hat-rack dropped it, thankfully.

"Didn't say that Slug! If there's anything Mori's good for it's giving a fourteen-year-old access to advanced textbooks." He received a dull 'ha ha' before Chuuya went back to looking around. Dazai didn't bother answering Aizawa's questioning look, adjusting his hold on his bag instead.

Rather quickly, Aizawa led them out of the main school building, the frankly massive campus spreading out around them. Why did a school need this many training grounds and gyms? U.A. was richer than the Port Mafia, no wonder Mori agreed for them to do this job.

The very tired hero dragged the two of them across the space with a sigh, over to a smaller, similar styled apartment-looking building. It was beside a large plot of empty space, mostly taken up by grass. It was clearly split into two sides, Dazai could tell that from the outside.

Aizawa gave them a tour of the building, showing them through the communal spaces, explaining rules and so on. Soukoku got the top floor with Aizawa and his husband (Dazai saw his wedding ring, and according to the tour Present Mic was the only missing known faculty member). It was a shared space, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen/living area cross. Like an actual apartment.

"Don't kill each other. I'll come get you at 10:30 am tomorrow so you can meet the staff." Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his hair with a grumble before leaving them alone.

Dazai looked to Chuuya, gesturing to the bathroom and bedrooms with his head. "I'll go explore the rooms. My dog can sniff about this room-"

"Not your damn dog asshole!" Despite his words, the ginger scurried off to the other side of the room.

Checking for cameras, microphones, anything really.

Dazai looked through the bedrooms and bathroom, finding nothing. He dropped the slug's stuff in the room closest to the front entrance and his stuff in the other. He wasn't fond of close combat, and if anyone were to enter Chuuya would be the first to intercept them. Unless the intruder comes in through any other entryway or exit.

Details, details.

The brunet left the rooms, finding Chuuya flopped on the couch (and he says Dazai looks like a fish) scrolling through his phone. Red hair framing his face, eyes half shut. Dazai plopped himself directly on top of the slug, nuzzling into him the best he could with the height difference.

"-Get off of me you goddamn mackerel-"

Dazai was unceremoniously shoved to slot in between Chuuya and the arm of the couch. How rude.

"The bathroom and bedrooms were all clear, you?" He said instead of complaining, fiddling with a strand of Chuuya's hair instead.

"Clear. Now tell me what's wrong you fishy bastard." The redhead hissed. Ah. Of course he wouldn't drop it. "Also, regardless of what you say you're taking off your chest bandages. If you're going to break a rib, may as well leave it until we're back in Yokohama."

Dazai whined, pouting. "But I don't want to...what if someone breaks in..."

Chuuya ran a hand through his hair, mostly just pulling it but the aggressive comfort was still comfort. "Then I'll end them before they tell anyone, 'kay Osamu?"

Dazai's first name was sacred. Only a select few used it, and even less because he gave them permission. Chuuya only did when he knew something was hard. The brunet found it pitying, disgusting, dirty, sure--but it was his name. His name.

And he didn't mind when Chuuya used it. It made him feel soft, like something breakable. He may be fragile, but he was easy to glue back together. Permanently disfigured and wrong but together. Alive. Surviving.

"Okay. I'll take them off."

Chapter Text

Dazai buried his face in the shitty pillow on the creaky bed with a huff. Chuuya had forced him to take his bandages off, something something circulation, and he felt exposed. His skin prickling with bugs, bones aching and lungs wheezing. Exposed. Violated.

The slug was currently in the other room making food because 'we both know you're more likely to blow up the kitchen' and the occasional shout of displeasure or, at one point, a glass shattering, was very entertaining. Despite Dazai's 10/10 audio entertainment, he still felt uncomfortable. Aizawa was coming to collect them soon, how unpleasant. The man clearly didn't like them, distrusting and tired. Fair enough.

Dazai checked his phone. A text from Yumiko.

Miko<3

Has the goal changed?

He shot her back with a nope~! before deleting the messages and putting his phone away. Chuuya was quieting down, more accepting huffs than shouts. The food was probably done. Dazai stood, his ankles clicking unpleasantly, wandering out of his temporary living space. The slug was dropping two bowls onto the counter, a faintly dejected look on his face.

"Slug, did you make something with crab in it?" Dazai chirped, half singing as he flopped down on the kitchen island. The chairs were squeaky; he much preferred sitting cross legged on the marble. Chuuya, used to his antics, merely sighed.

"We both know if I didn't you would waste the food mackerel. It's crab stew, now eat." The chibi pushed a bowl of food into Dazai's lap, climbing onto the counter himself. His portion was notably larger than the brunets, years of cooking for his partner getting him used to someone with the appetite of a literal guppy. And Dazai says he isn't a fish...

Chuuya had gone shopping for food this morning, just after waking up. Mori gave them unlimited access to his card, so money wasn't a problem. It was about 9, so they had a while to discuss.

"I'm binding when Aizawa's here." Matter of fact, a warning. "I've been rereading the files our 1-B spies found, but they don't have information about our classmates. I do have things on the teachers though. Mori sent me an actual mission brief last night, we're here to keep the brats alive and well because contacts, communication...keeping Yokohama the fuck away from heroes and villains. But don't worry, you're just a brute! Don't say too much, pretend we were born and raised near U.A., and you'll be okay!"

Dazai dodged the swipe to the head for the last comment.

"Don't break your ribs, shitty Dazai." A pause. "And okay. Forge connections with 1-A or stay detached?"

"Decide that later! I assume the staff will know of our actual purpose, hence the whole...staying in the teacher dorms and meeting the faculty a day early thing. Wait to see how the class interact with each other first. For now just go along with it, act like an aspiring hero student who, despite his height, managed to get into the best hero school in-"

"Stop doing that." Chuuya grumbled, stuffing his mouth with stew and gesturing for Dazai to do the same. The brunet huffed but took a mouthful, clearly picking out the crab and leaving the rest. Chuuya was going to have grey hair before he was 20 at this rate, dealing with Dazai's bullshit.

Once both of them were done eating (Dazai managed a quarter of his bowl before standing up and going into his room. Chuuya assumed he was doing his chest bandages, judging by the muttered swears), they sat in the living space. It was a couch facing the wall, a coffee table in between and a bookshelf with nothing on it. How invigorating.

"And then the idiot doctor grabbed my waist like a pedophile-"

"Probably because you tried to jump off a building and he was going to catch you?"

"-Exactly! I was just an innocent teenager trying to commit suicide and he violated me-"

"Innocent my ass."

"Bad dog! Don't insult your master!"

"I'm not your fucking dog-"

The conversation was mostly going in circles. Dazai made violent hand movements, pouting every time Chuuya interrupted him, while the redhead stared into the wall and wondered how he got here. Clearly not by choice.

The door was knocked on at exactly 10:28, and Dazai jumped up to answer it. Chuuya trailed behind, slouched over with his hands in his pockets.

Dazai swung open the door, revealing one exhausted looking Aizawa and Present Mic. He deflated, dragged himself back to the shorter with a dejected look on his face. "...and here I was hoping Mori found the dead racoon in his office and sent an assassin to kill me."

The brunet dodged a kick from his partner, whining about how 'I'm being abused by a short slug!'.

"I'm going to ignore that." Aizawa said dumbly, eyes slightly alert and confused. Mic looked equally concerned. "This is Yamada Hizashi, hero name: Present Mic. He's your English teacher. The other faculty are preparing for a staff meeting in the main building. You'll be attending."

"Yep! You little listeners are extra special, aye Sho?" Mic was loud. Dazai couldn't help but notice the flickering concern within the blonde's eyes, the way his grin twitched minutely and his hand clasped each other much too tightly to be natural. Perhaps their age was bothering him?

Aizawa grumbled something in response, turning around and allowing Chuuya and Dazai to follow without prompting. They did, but only because Mori had told them to behave. Infiltration sucked.

Was this infiltration? Technically, in the eyes of the students yes, but there was no information gathering, sabotage...maybe?

Dazai hummed. "Chibi?"

"What you fishy bastard?" Chuuya snapped running his fingers through his hair.

"My dog's so mean..." Dazai dodged a punch, "...how long do you think it'll take for me to get a student to cry?"

Chuuya blinked at him, dumbfounded. The redhead took a deep inhale, glaring at the floor. "Are you going to embrace your fish-cat hybrid heritage or pretend to be tolerable?"

The brunet gasped, pouting. "I'm tolerable! Plenty of people tolerate me-"

"Plenty of people are scared of you, you mean?"

"-doesn't matter! What about Mori? Or Ane-san? Or Q?"

"Mori is-I don't actually know but his input doesn't count. Ane-san likes me, you're just a wriggly fish who keeps interrupting our meetings and Q is...more confusing than Mori but they don't count." Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes.

Before the bickering could continue, Mic spoke.

"Who're they? Your family?"

Dazai squished Chuuya's face, effectively letting himself speak up first.

"Mori is our boss! Ane-sane is an executive and Q is...the slug was right, I don't know how to explain them."

"Q is a child locked up in the basement. Maybe. They've managed to chew through their cage 3 times this year." Chuuya interrupted, sighing. "Don't...question it."

Mic hummed, looking faintly concerned. Aizawa grunted, muttering something under his breath. "We're nearly there."

The hallways stretched ahead, windows and plain walls galore. It was still hollowed out and empty, but something felt more populated. Like there were people besides the few teachers Dazai and Chuuya already met. Aizawa paused in front of a towering door, the sign reading 'Staff Meeting Room, Off Limits' in bold lettering. Dazai wouldn't listen to that, definitely not.

The door creaked as Mic opened it, the room itself a long, large space with a table through the middle. The staff were positioned around the table, chattering lightly until the door opened. Nezu stood.

"Hello Eraserhead, Present Mic. I assume our newest faculty are behind you?"

The heroes in question moved away, taking their own seats on the other side of the room. Dazai and Chuuya glanced at each other, the taller shrugging loosely and his partner sighing in response.

"Would you like to introduce yourselves?" Nezu sat down, smiling. His eyes were dark, a pit of something unrecognisable.

"Why of course~" Dazai grinned, flashing a smile. "Dazai Osamu, at your service."

Chuuya kicked him lightly, and he fell to the floor with a cry.

"-Young man that was-" A teacher exclaimed, words rushed out and harsh.

"He deserved it." Chuuya snapped. "He's acting anyway, the fish broke his wrist a few months back and still managed to use a gun. The bastard has an insane pain tolerance."

"Chibi is so mean! Adrenaline, Chuuya, didn't you say you read some of Mori's books? I'm being abused by my own partner-"

"-if it's an actual problem you can move into different rooms?" Mic said anxiously, clearly uncertain over how genuine they were being.

"Absolutely not." Chuuya hissed. Dazai nodded in agreement, eyes cold and emotionless as he stood.

"No thanks. Now, Slug hasn't introduced himself! How unfair." The brunet sighed heavily, leaning on the ginger with a sad sigh. He buried his head into the shorter's neck out of habit, taking a shallow breath of his partner's scent. It reminded Dazai of metal and pine sap. Not unpleasant by any means, familiar and calming.

"Chuuya Nakahara. Call me Chuuya though." The slug sighed, not pushing Dazai off despite the fact he was heavy. Lighter than he should be, but the brunet was freakishly tall and had his entire weight on his partner.

Chuuya couldn't help but note the slight wheeze of his breaths, and how they were shorter than they should be. Did he wrap his bandages too tight? Before the redhead could contemplate further, the teachers spoke up.

"Call me Midnight! I teach art history."

"Snipe. Dazai, Chuuya mentioned you having experience with a gun-?"

"Not the time cowboy. Eraserhead, as you know."

"Ectoplasm. I teach mathematics."

"Powerloader, support course."

"Hound Dog. I'm a student councillor."

"Thirteen! I teach rescue training."

"Lunch Rush, I make the food in the cafeteria."

"Recovery girl. I'm the nurse, but you better not get injured-"

"Cementoss. Literature teacher."

"Vlad King, I'm the homeroom teacher for 1-B."

The other teachers went through and introduced themself, Dazai fighting the urge to laugh at the sheer insanity of some of their appearances. Chuuya wasn't faring much better. Just as the introductions were over, someone burst through the door behind them. Chuuya, the faithful dog he is, jumped in front of Dazai, red flickering at the edges of his appearance. The brunet simply unhooked a dagger, holding it tight by his side and stepped back distrustfully.

Unfortunately, because introductions were boring and fighting seemed more enjoyable, it was All Might. The hero. Ah. Dazai placed a hand on his dog's shoulder, the redhead standing down and glaring at the new person.

"Chibi can stop being so defensive! That's All Might-the unnaturally muscular new addition to the faculty?" Dazai pulled his partner back with a whine, the staff behind them looking tired and faintly bothered.

"Glad you could make it." Powerloader seemed to mumble, fiddling with a small bundle of wires in front of himself.

All Might wilted at the statement. "I was working! Nezu said the bodyguards would be here now."

Nezu hummed. "They are. Dazai, Chuuya, I presume you know who he is?"

Soukoku nodded, glancing between the heroes in the room with raised eyebrows.

"Since introductions are over, what are we doing now?" Chuuya sighed eventually, stepping backwards into Dazai. The fish draped over him immediately, puzzle pieces slotting together. Chuuya bit his tongue, annoyance rising in his throat at the slightly louder, shallow breaths his partner was letting out.

Nezu clicked his tongue. "You and Dazai can take a seat, as can you All Might, then we'll start the meeting."

Dazai, for once in his life, obeyed.

Chuuya decidedly ignored the faint concern. The mackerel was an idiot.

------

Dazai wasn't listening to the meeting. He had an audio recording running, a small listening bug tucked into his pocket, and Chuuya would be able to recite information back. Instead, he thought.

Horrible.

His heart was a little too loud, sluggishly beating in his ears. He could feel his teeth in his mouth, feel them rot and go sickly sweet, feel the bile in his throat rise up. His ribs ached with something fierce, the bandages making his skin itch and sweat drip down his back. Cold, too cold.

He wasn't a stranger to contemplating suicide. Far from it. Satan knows he's tried to send himself to the dirty pits of Hell more times than he's felt genuine happiness at this point, but he hated how it felt when it wasn't a joke anymore. When he wasn't just hollowed out and bored, curious because what would happen if he were to down all the medication in Chuuya's apartment while the slug was away? Morbid curiosity, as Mori liked to say.

Dazai doesn't like wanting to die. Not when it's like this. Something clawing up his throats, his spine growing through his skin and rot flooding his mouth. When he wants to claw his skin off, take a shuddery breath and cut to the fat layer. When he wants to hack his breasts off with a blade, when he wants to stab something through his skin and watch as he bleeds out. He's not a fan of pain, but when death is above comfort, when his thoughts are blurred and the world is in shades of red, it's more grounding than agonising. His nerves alight as maggots crawl within his veins, his flesh rotten. Slabs of fatty meat pulled off his bones.

The mould growing in his shipping container fills his lungs with spores, growing within him as a new ribcage sprouts and shatters his organs. His eyeballs rolled back into his head and his skull shattered with bullets and bricks.

Dazai hates his brain. He hates it more when it gets like this.

Thoughts hurt, but he can't stop thinking, can't stop floating.

Words go in and out of his head, and suddenly he's hyperaware of his chest. The curves, the way the skin peels back to reveal sickening fat and womanhood, the urge to hack it off and wrap himself so tight he can't feel emotions.

Words float in and out of his head. In and out, in and out.

Blood pools on the pavement, dirtied and brown. Dried. Stuck to the bruises mottling the corpses skin and matting its hair. It, because if he treats it like a person he'll fall apart. If he treats himself like a human he breaks, he can't do this-

-The corpses jaw has been shattered. Tear stains are obvious on its cheeks, the three bullet wounds in its chest leaking blood. It's sluggish and tired and dried, a death sentence. The scent of sepsis and rot hangs heavy in the air, Dazai raising an eyebrow at the former before noting the maggot infested gash in the corpses thigh. He hadn't looked there before, he didn't want to see the thumbprints mottling pale skin and blood and cum and urine and saliva.

He didn't want to justify the mafia's actions. He didn't, he never would.

He's not scared to admit someone did this.

He doesn't even want to know why.

He wants to choke himself with his own veins. Fleshy and wrong, suffocated by the thing cherishing his life force. How ironic.

Words float in and out of his head again. Endless. Moving. Constant.

He can taste blood. He can taste bile. He can taste leftover food from earlier and he wants it out.

Then words filter back in.

"-and I guess that concludes todays meeting! Faculty, you may leave. Dazai, Chuuya, stay behind please." Nezu was saying, voice high pitched and grating. Dazai, still slightly out of it, followed the slug in the action of standing up and walking closer to the principle.

Dazai feels like a dog. How odd, considering the fact Chuuya is clearly the dog out of the two of them--a violent one, sure, but loyal to his master all the same!

Once the staff are gone, Nezu speaks.

"I'm speaking to both of you to remove suspicion." He starts out with, which, just wonderful. "But this is directed at Dazai. For legal and safety reasons, you'll have to use the girls' changing areas, dorm spaces on camping trips, and anything of the-"

Before the rat can finish his sentence, Dazai has a knife against his throat and Chuuya is standing behind, eyes glimmering dangerously.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

The words were hissed, dangerous and warning. Don't fuck with this. Nezu simply smiled, a bead of sweat running down his forehead unwillingly at the sharp object pressed against his oesophagus.

"Well, Dazai, Mori stated you were transgender. By law, our bathrooms, changing areas and other things like that are considered based on sex-"

"You hired teenagers in the mafia to be bodyguards to glorified child soldiers. You aren't a law-abiding citizen you fucking rat." Chuuya hissed, voice dangerously low and hands twitching. Dazai could taste the God swirling around in the Chibi's brain, screaming for blood.

"I am a boy." Dazai said eventually, dropping the principle with a dull look in his eyes. Manic laughter floated through the space dangerously, air cold and deadly. "I am a boy, not a man. I am a boy, not a girl. I am not a woman. I am not a lady. I am a boy and I want to be treated as such."

Nezu looked scared. Rightfully so. Gravity flickered in and out, the rat's lungs fluctuating between too much and too little, a blade clattered as it was dropped to the floor, the raspy voice a teenager prepared to kill echoed in his brain and-

"I hope you've learned your lesson." Chuuya said blandly, before pulling his slightly hysterical partner from the room.

Nezu stood, dusted off his shirt, picked the knife up from the floor and hummed to himself. Intelligence would never take away prey instincts, he'd accepted that...but his new 'students' made his brain go haywire in a way he didn't want to think about.

Wasn't Dazai's quirk a nullifier? Had the pure unaltered fear and run run run echoeing in his thoughts been from his quirk vanishing?

Fascinating. Majorly fascinating.

------

Chuuya threw something at the wall. Thankfully it was a pillow this time, the redheads face matching his hair and incoherent mumbling angrier than when Dazai called him a dog. The brunet in question was hunched on the couch, a loosest sweatshirt he could find covering his body and bandages wrapped so tightly around his chest he wouldn't be surprised if he damaged his lungs or lost circulation. Mori deserved the extra work.

Bastard.

"How brutish. My dog really loves his owner that much, right?" The normally joking words were flat, emotionless. Numb. Dazai wanted to flay himself, wanted his intestines to pool on the ground like a bloody horror film.

Chuuya didn't grace him with a response, flashes of something in his gaze.

He'd taken out his contact lens, single brown eye glimmering in the artificial lights. He'd also changed, the oversized crab shirt clearly belonging to Dazai. His slug was so short.

"Fuck him." Chuuya said eventually. "I...Osamu if he pulls that shit again I'm cancelling the mission. I don't care about Mori or Nezu or-anything. I'm going to fucking kill him."

Osamu. Osamu. Osamu. That's his name. That's his name. That's his name. Dazai hasn't cried in years, but fuck he wants to. He wants to sob and break and shatter into a million pieces, he wants someone to kill him and he wants someone to hug him and trace his scars with deft fingers.

"Good slug." Dazai says, as much as he wants to beg for touch and affection and something absolute he can't. His throat closes up because humans deserve touch and he's not human.

He's not human and Chuuya hates him.

Hatred, inhumanity, isn't deserving of affection. He's barely deserving of his partners rage, let only his love.

Dazai doesn't try to stop his hands from shaking. He knows he won't succeed.

Chapter Text

The U.A. uniform was...something. Dazai adjusted his arm bandages for the hundredth time, fiddling with the pin keeping them in place. He tucked the metal underneath the familiar fabric, chewing on his thumbnail. The uniform was scratchy, scoring his skin and making him itch. Horrible. It was only in places (his torso was firmly wrapped up, as her his arms and legs) but the slivers of exposed skin felt awful.

Not to mention how ugly it was.

To be quite honest, Dazai debated fucking off and dealing with Mori instead of this. The worst the doctor could do would be sensory deprivation, and considering how that goes every time...eh. Whatever.

Chuuya was grumbling to himself, perched on the other side of the room. He looked worse than Dazai, somehow, red hair slightly damp from his shower as he wrestled with his contact lens. The fact he was willing to stand in here with the brunet, brown eye on full display in the artificial lights, was a show of trust that Dazai didn't want to think about.

Emotions were for humans. Chuuya was human, for all his dog-ness and sluggy behaviour he was human. So, so human it hurt.

"These uniforms are shit." The redhead in question muttered, interrupting Dazai's train of thought. "How is U.A.'s sense of style worse than yours?"

Dazai tutted. "Chibi doesn't appreciate my fashion. But yes, I want to desecrate this itchy item of clothing more than anything."

He received a black stare. "Stop using fancy words."

"What? I don't think my speech mannerisms are all that eloquent." Dazai grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. He was an asshole, and he was proud of it.

(He was a child. A child who'd tortured. A child who'd cried. A child who'd given his life, only to have death ripped away from him.

He was inhumane, a demon.

Demonic.

He wasn't a child. He was barely a person.)

Emotions. Again?

Dazai huffed to himself, glaring at the dirty bathroom tiles. Mould growing in the cracks, he wondered how many spores he had to grow in his lungs to suffocate on his own air? Probably more than he could foster in the next few minutes of life. How unfortunate.

"Chibi..." He whined, dragging out the last sound.

"What do you want?"

"I just realised my plans of suicide have been interrupted! How am I going to find time to hurl myself into traffic when I'm putting so much effort into working-"

Dazai ducked under the punch sent his way. Looks like Chuuya was ready to leave, contact securely in his eye.

His partner was such a bad dog.

Dazai, not bothering to ask anything more, grabbed Chuuya by the wrist and dragged him from the dorm (?), along with their bags. They were extremely early, an hour and a half to be specific, but whatever.

Mori would be proud of his punctuality. And then--run his dirty, bloodstained hands through Dazai's hair. Fingers pressed into his scalp like poison, infectious and wrong. Tilting the brunets head back like one would a child, whisper sweet nothings into his ears and press fingerprints to his jaw--shut up. He would scold Dazai on the bruising his ribs were going to suffer, make him read a medical textbook for people with decades of medical experience, and laugh condescendingly.

Emotions are weird.

"Oi. Shitty Dazai." Chuuya pulled him from his thoughts, and Dazai realised they were already inside the building. Where inside the building, he had no clue.

"Yes Slug?" He chirped back, glancing around in case there was anything he recognised. Nope. Dammit.

"Where are you dragging me?"

Dazai paused. "No idea! I thought I could just walk around and you'd follow at my heels like a cute puppy without questioning it...guess I was wrong."

The brunet ducked under another attempt of murder. Really, his partner was such a brute.

"Fucking asshole-"

------

Eventually, they make it to class 1-A. Doors far too big, with letters in bold on the front.

Dazai dragged Chuuya in, the empty class a fun greeting first thing in the morning. The brunet proceeded to go to the back corner (furthest from the window, thankfully), dragging the nearest desk so they were pressed against each other and grinned.

"Don't worry, a dog shouldn't be separated from his master!"

Despite the sharp bickering, they both sat down to await the rest of the class's arrival, without moving back the tables. The warmth pressed up against Chuuya's side, sending cool chills through his godless, humanoid body was comforting in a uniquely Dazai way. Comfortable.

He didn't complain about how clingy the mackerel was being. It would be hypocritical, considering the fact one of Chuuya's hands were holding onto his partners shirt. Only because it made the tall asshole duck down to his height, totally.

"When do you think the brats will arrive?" Chuuya eventually mumbled, his hand loosening as he slouched over his desk. "Surely 'aspiring hero students' will be punctual."

Dazai shrugged. "Dunno. Nezu--I know you're listening you bastard, I haven't forgiven you nor do I plan to--didn't tell me shit about who our classmates are. Or anything else, actually."

"And Mori didn't either...?"

"Right you are Slug!"

Chuuya sighed. "I hate my life..."

"Welcome to the club chibi~" Dazai grinned, unnaturally sharp canines glinting in the fluorescent lights.

"I'm not a suicidal maniac, you goddamn masochist." The ginger huffed, slouching further (somehow). "Also, why are your teeth so sharp? Are you sure you aren't a vampire or some shit?"

"I actually hate pain, chibi! And vampirism sucks--blood tastes metallic and dries tacky, would not recommend."

He received a hand to the back of his skull for the comment.

Just as the banter increased in aggression, someone came in. A quiet looking boy, with...rocks(?)...for hair. He had centipedes crawling across his claw-like hands, a timid look on his face. Chuuya raised an eyebrow, noting Dazai's grin. His teeth glinted again, dangerous and deadly. In the hypothetical, of course.

He, while still grinning, stared at the newcomer with his eyes dull. Cold, icy. Nothing. Hollowed out, his face a contradiction on human form.

The stranger simply glanced away, speed walking over to a random desk.

How odd.

Dazai tugged on Chuuya's sleeve, tapping the table in morse code. 'befriend classmates, we need to build trust.'. Chuuya sighed heavily, but nodded. The redhead stood, wandering over to the boy with a somewhat amiable look on his face.

"Hello. My name's Nakahara Chuuya, but most people call me Chuuya, you?" The stranger looked away anxiously, his hands moving feverishly but in no clear pathway. Ah. "I speak JSL."

He resigned the sentence, raising an eyebrow at the boy. Dazai slumped over his shoulders, signing something illegible from the angle.

The boy smiled, his black eyes glinting with something warm. He started signing, seemingly less anxious. *I'm not deaf, I just prefer not to talk. My name is Koda Koji.*

"Yeah that's fine." Chuuya shrugged, glancing at Dazai. He blinked expectingly. His partner shook his head, tucking his forehead into the redheads neck. "This fishy bastard is Dazai Osamu. He's a parasite, don't let him get attached to you."

Dazai muttered something along the lines of: "Chibi is so mean to me..."

*Did you guys attend middle school together?* Koda signed, wringing his hands together nervously afterwards. *You seem close.*

Chuuya glanced at Dazai. The brunet gave a shrug. "Homeschooled. We grew up together due to family, but we didn't go to school."

"Y-yeah." Chuuya shrugged loosely, trying to commit that to memory. He guessed it made sense, they were homeschooled near U.A. and grew up together as each others only friends...he hated lying. He could do it, and do it well, but it wasn't effortless. He wished he could shrug anything off like Dazai.

*I was homeschooled for a bit. When I was young my anxiety used to spike a lot.* Koda ran a finger across the head of the centipede with him.

"Ah. Why do you have a centipede...? If you don't mind me asking." Chuuya eventually questioned.

*My _______ lets me speak to animals. Communicate with them? Control? I can't describe it. They tend to provide emotional support as well, so I'm permitted to bring an emotional support bug.* Koda explained, his hands starting to tremble. *What's your ______?*

Chuuya glanced to Dazai. His partner blinked, quickly realising the confusion. Quirk wasn't a word they were taught in JSL, they had abilities. Different things. "Quirk. Sorry Koda, Slug here didn't know what quirk was in JSL."

The redhead huffed, but brightened when he saw Koda's amused smile. "Yeah. Sorry. But mine is gravity manipulation, and Dazai is a nullifier."

Dazai nodded, approving the brevity to their answers.

*Cool. Do...either of you have a favourite animal?*

Dazai immediately jumped forward, abandoning the previous quiet. "Crab! They are superior to all animals in every way-"

Chuuya punched him. "I like black cats. Specifically ones with a missing eye."

Dazai made a sharp, wheezing sound, getting the attention of the other two. He scrambled to his feet, blinking owlishly.

*Are you okay-?*

"Shitty Dazai what-"

A gasp and-

"I forgot to tell Ryuu and Gin to feed Scoundrel!"

A hollow blink from Koda, and annoyance from Chuuya.

"Seriously? You forgot? Also why them? What about those weirdos you spend time with at the bar. They seem like far better options." Chuuya huffed, shaking his partner by the collar.

"No! Don't be silly Chibi. They're drinking buddies-" He glanced at Koda. "-and we invest in apple juice. Not stray cat feedings!"

"Then text Gin or something and tell her to give the mangy little thing something to eat."

"E-excuse me?" Koda spoke, so soft, they barely caught it, but Dazai turned sharply so Chuuya followed. Koda started signing once he had their attention, shaking slightly. *Sorry for intruding...do you two feed a stray cat?*

"Yep!" Dazai spoke. "Its name is Scoundrel and it's missing an eye."

*Oh. Should you inform your...family? Or friends--that it needs to be fed.*

"Probably."

Silence settled. Dazai spoke up. "Me and Chibi are going back to our desk, I need to argue with my...siblings."

Koda gave a polite goodbye, letting them go to the other side of the room without much complaint.

He seemed nice, if a little anxious. Even now, as he was whispering to his centipede with a serene look on his face, his free hand flicked at his side.

Dazai fell into his seat with a dramatic sigh, rummaging through his pockets for his phone. He needed to tell Ryuu to feed Scoundrel. The reminder of the cat had him feeling solemn, Chuuya sharing the sentiment.

(The alleyway stank of blood. A corpse lay, freshly killed, on the concrete, chest leaking crimson. Dazai felt detached. Inhumane. Chuuya was glaring to the side, his face wrinkled in discomfort. The slug had never liked killing. He held a twisted sort of respect for those he slaughtered, put them on a pedestal and prayed to Gods he doesn't trust that there was an afterlife.

The brunet had never felt that. Not for himself, not for the body count he treasured, not for the redhead he called his partner.

A soft meow drove him from his thoughts, meek and raspy.

Dazai turned sharply, his brain firing off adrenaline as if he was about to die. He liked cats. Dogs were slobbery mutts with curling lips and shining jaws, fur mangy and muscles bulging unnaturally, but he didn't mind cats.

Chuuya sharpened as well, glancing around.

There was a small, dark furry shape nestled into the wall. Dazai crouched down, squinting. Chuuya followed, positioned just over his shoulder, right side.

It was...a cat.

Its left eye half shut as it shivered, bones showing through its patchy fur. Fully black, with the right eye fully glued shut. Infection and rot mangled the surface, and it meowed pathetically. Dazai hummed, glancing to Chuuya. The ginger sighed, walking away swiftly.

Dazai looked back to the cat, its hackles raised threateningly.

"Oh quit it you little stray. Slug's getting you something, just wait a bit." He huffed, dislodging his coat and wrapping it around the stray. The cat yowled in shock, but quieted down quickly, nuzzling into his leftover body heat. Hm. It wasn't quite feral, or it was concussed and couldn't think straight. Dazai wasn't bothered finding out.

Eventually, his partner emerged from the entryway to the alley, items floating behind him.

"Hm. Didn't know you were a cat whisperer." Chuuya raised an eyebrow, leaving the items floating and observing the cat carefully.

"I hate dogs, chibi. Cats are fine." Dazai stated, shrugging. Only to whisper shout anxiously. "We can't leave it here. It's bloody and far from anywhere accessible!"

Chuuya sighed heavily, grumbling to himself. "We can drop it off by the Prot Mafia headquarters. Set it up in an alley out back. But you'll have to ask the boss for permission."

Dazai whined, but agreed.

Scoundrel, as the little thing was named, got dropped off outside the mafia in a wooden box full of blankets, with scattered cat toys and shelters (along with climbing spots) dotted across the small space.)

It was a fond memory, sweet and soft, but even something as inhuman as Dazai could admit he missed the stray. It wasn't good company, but it was weirdly attached to him--and it made Chuuya happy. Really happy.

Dazai unlocked his phone, texting his trainee absentmindedly before leaning onto Chuuya heavily. One person and he was already exhausted. This would be fun.

------

After that, he made no attempt to talk to anyone and they didn't either. Dazai was tired, his ribs aching with something vicious and his throat raspy. He felt horrid. Eventually, a yellow caterpillar came in and flopped behind the desk.

It was man. Aizawa, to be specific, and damn was it fun to watch a bunch of optimists get insulted.

"Now put on your gym uniforms, we're going out. You'll find the uniforms in your lockers. Dazai, see me first." There it was. Obstacle one. He tapped his partners hand once, a negative. Twice was a positive, stay clam, don't worry, it'd fine, don't fight. One was the opposite, in this case it meant stay.

His partner hummed, letting the brunet drape himself over the shorter.

Once the class filtered out, Aizawa turned to them.

"Chuuya? I asked to speak with Dazai." His voice was dull.

"I'm staying." The redhead shot back, glaring.

Dazai nodded. "Dogs have to stay with their masters-"

He was kicked in the shin for that.

Aizawa sighed. "Look, Nezu said you have to, from a legal perspective, use the girls change rooms Dazai. I was told to tell you that the law can suck it and you can use the men's."

Chuuya huffed a laugh at the blunt tone, turning away with a sheepish look on his face. Dazai just smiled, somewhat genuine, and nodded. He could respect the teacher's habit of not dragging things out, it certainly made things interesting.

The brunet, sensing the coversation was over, grabbed Chuuya and dragged him from the room. Once out in the hallway, Dazai sped up his walking, almost running, to get to the changing rooms. His patner followed closesly, eyes squinted in careful understanding. The hallways felt loud and quiet all at once, and Dazai wanted to get somewhere without cameras watching his back, somewhere he could wrap his chest bandages tighter and tighter as his ribs cracked under the pressure.

He bit his fingers, canines digging in far enough for drops of blood to stain his teeth.

He slipped into the changerooms, finding his and Chuuya's uniforms before tucking himself into a corner. There weren't individual stalls. There weren't bathrooms. He couldn't hide. Dazai's breath hitched sliently, the boy in question forcing his lungs to cooperate.

The slug was at his side after a moment, already changed and pressing his palms into Dazai's shoulders. His hands were warm, nails slightly chipped from field work and scars dotting the skin, but warm. Soaking through the itchy uniform, heating the brunet's muscles and keeping him grounded.

He collapsed into Chuuya, as casually as possible, glancing around anxiously. Only a few were still changing, and the redhead still holding him steady started speaking. "I'll hide you, Mackerel. If anyone asks questions then fuck the mission."

Dazai's lungs heaved, but he nodded and pushed away from his partner. Hands shaking, he mananged to change into the gym clothes quick enough, fiddling with the sleeves. His bandages weren't dirty, but they were frayed from the lack of care he had when moving around, the metal pin holding them still slightly visible. He kept pulling out the shirt, down the sleeves, up the pants. Mechanical and grounding.

Chuuya dragged them both outside to the rest of the class, leaving a warm (so warm it hurt) hand rested against Dazai's lower back. Comforting and stable.

The brunet, but this point, was mostly back to normal, if a little shaky. He wanted to tear he eyeballs from his skull, watch the blood and muscles and tissue squirm together. A writhing mass of flesh. Sickening.

A voice interrupted his musings of self-harm, polite and unfamiliar. Dazai's hand shot down to where he'd normally keep his gun, only for his eyes to widen a fraction when he found it missing. Chuuya was quick to lean on his shoulder heavily, reminding him that this was a mission. Stay quiet. Don't let them notice.

He looked up, spying a green haired girl. She had wide, emerald eyes like a frog, her tongue slightly stuck out, A heteromorph frog quirk, Dazai deduced.

"Hello. My name is Asui Tsuyu, call me Tsu. I tend to say what I'm thinking so...why do you have so many bandages on?" She seemed polite, straight to the point. But that was...no. He can't. Can't. Dazai feels more than sees the way Chuuya steps forward slightly, the warmth, the one thing keeping his grounded, separating slightly and he wants to whine and bury himself back into his partner like a clingy child but he can't.

He hopes the slug can handle this.

"Nakahara Chuuya, I prefer Chuuya. And it's none of your fucking business." The redhead snapped, bristling. Dazai wanted to make a joke, wanted to laugh softly and comment on his partners protectiveness, but he couldn't breathe quite right.

Comments from the rest of the class echoed, a chorus of questions and theories and sickening pity. Dazai wanted to suffocate on his own bile, wanted to rot in a pile of his organs as the birus that is his gender consumes him.

The voices don't stop.

Until they do.

Aizawa's here, looking absolutely exhausted, and he calls the classes attention. Must be doing something, then.

Chapter Text

Dazai raised an eyebrow as Aizawa spoke. Testing how your quirk could boost your physical capabilities, and, judging by the man's track record, see if they're worthy of remaining in this course.

Not the worst, strategy Dazai's seen, but he's a mafia member who throws himself into traffic at least once a month, so his opinion on this is unimportant.

"Bakugou, you scored the highest on the entrance exam." The blond in question grinned. Dazai snapped back into focus, putting more than a fragment of attention into this for the first time. "What was your high score on the throwing exams in middle school?"

"75." The number clearly memorised, as if the blond had thought about it far more than the average person. Judging by his painfully obvious insecurity, Dazai wasn't surprised.

"Well, go into that circle and try with your quirk. Anything goes, just don't leave the circle."

Bakugou reared up to throw, propelling the ball with a boom from an explosion. Dazai wondered if his hearing was affected--quirks adapt to bodies on a direct sense, not an indirect one. Abilities weren't biological in any regard, but that was a story for another day. Surely a quirk that caused noise but wasn't centred around noise wouldn't provide a hearing loss buffer? More research needed.

Chuuya flicked his shoulder, and Dazai realised he had zoned out. His partner tapped the score Bakugou got onto his shoulder, something in the 700s.

Fascinating.

The class was chattering, exclamations of excitement or joy, interest or numb curiosity. When a pink skinned girl (what were quirks? Seriously, why did she look like that) said something about it being 'fun', their teacher stepped in.

"Fun? You think this is fun? If you wanted to have fun you wouldn't be in this course-"

Ah. There's the lecture. Dazai saw it coming from a mile away, how unfortunate. He didn't bother paying attention, this man hadn't seen the worst of society. For all he could preach about justice, about sickening cases and how this wasn't fun, he hadn't seen someone choke on their own intestines. He hadn't found a torture victim, soaked in bodily fluids, strung up on the ceiling like a sick mantlepiece. He hadn't watched as someone's skull gave way, brain matter and muscle tissue giving in.

Maybe he has. But that's not the worst thing about people. Gore and violence is human, after all.

The worst is the people who speak in honeyed tones, their hands too warm and teeth too sharp. The worst are the people who keep chess boards in their office and knock down an extra pawn every time someone important dies. The worst are the people who coo at adults, infantilising and condescending.

The worst is the people you don't suspect.

Dazai wants to be sick, but he presses the back of his hand into his mouth and prays to a god he doesn't believe in that he isn't.

The class suddenly erupts, and Dazai, in all his glory, proceeds to throw up.

He chokes on his own bile, dry heaving aimlessly into the dirt beneath him. He can feel warm, familiar hands holding his hair out of his face and supporting his upper body. Chuuya. He coughs, one final, raggedy heave, his breathing stuttering. He doesn't eat enough for actual bile to come up.

"...such a loyal dog." He rasps, Chuuya sighing heavily in response.

Aizawa is in front of him after a moment, eyes flickering with something close to concern. "Are you ill?"

Dazai sways unsteadily on his feet, flashes of pink fleshy organs and too warm hands and bloody scalpels flickering in his brain before he shook his head. Chuuya kept him upright, muttering under his breath. Dazai leaned further into his partner. "No. My gag reflex is triggered easily, and a bug flew into my mouth."

A believable lie. Hopefully Aizawa wouldn't push too hard, despite his knowledge of their profession (which meant he knew it was lie on principle, no mafia member would be gagging over a bug in their mouth).

"Yeah. The one downside to the fucker's insane reflexes is that his gag reflex got the same treatment. Don't worry about it." Chuuya stepped in, groaning. Good dog, lying for his master.

Dazai gave an awkward grin, righting himself with a bit of help from his partner. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, fiddled with his hair a bit and beamed. "See! Right as rain."

"...Fine." Aizawa relented. "But you're exempt from today's test."

The class, who before this were just hovering around (they didn't know each other well enough to gossip, Dazai guessed), exploded again.

"What!? We're risking expulsion and he gets to sit out cause he can't handle a bug down his throat-"

"Calm down man, everyone has their vices-"

"I agree, this feels unfair..."

"Whose gag reflex is that weak anyway?"

Dazai winced back from the noise, a fresh wave of nausea being triggered. He pressed his hand to his mouth awkwardly, knowing he didn't have an excuse to second time around. Chuuya, immediately catching on, yelled out. "He just puked his guts up and you're worried about how fair the test is? Would you want to risk being kicked out of your dream school purely because of an unfortunate part of your biology? Let him skip one fucking test, the fishy bastard'll get thrown out soon enough anyway."

The harsh tone Chuuya used got the group to quiet down, and Dazai sighed in relief. He was tired, thoughts still running in circles, and he wanted to be back home. He wanted to annoy Mori, chat with Oda and Ango at the bar, do his job, and instead he's stuck pretending like he's a normal boy.

He's barely even a boy.

Dazai let his partner drag him over to the sidelines, sitting him down aggressively.

"We're talking about this later!" Chuuya whisper yelled as he left, leaving his gloves (they were tucked away in his pocket) with Dazai.

The brunet hummed, sticking out his tongue as an afterthought.

He should watch the class. He should, but he doesn't. He thinks. His head hates him today, he notes with a tone of annoyance. How unpleasant, that made most things harder. His fiddled with the gloves his partner had left him, hands holding the warm fabric and pressing them to his face. He liked how they smelled, like Chibi.

Familiar.

He could feel his lungs, feel the way they ached and stung, feel the way his ribs begged to be released, feel the way his flesh twisted underneath his too-tight bandages. It was horrible.

Dazai knew he was more prone than most to understimulation. And overstimulation, to be quite honest. He remembered the first time someone tried sensory deprivation as a torture method. He'd gotten kidnapped, on purpose mind you, and instead of pulling out nails or stabbing him they locked him in a room. Small, pitch black, cold metal pressed against his skin. It had taken less than an hour for his nails to claw through his bandage.

Chuuya found him there two weeks later, probably because Mori said he had to go grab his partner, and Dazai was curled in on himself, blood staining his hands and limbs, pulling his hair feverishly.

Mori had locked him in his container alone once a month from there on. Train him into entertaining himself.

Dazai pulled at a loose strand on his bandages, wrapping it around his finger until the skin became blue. Circulation. Cutting off the oxygen flow to a limb.

He glanced at the class, noting they were still on the throwing.

Chuuya and a green haired kid were the only ones left to go. His partner stepped up first, the ball glowing red as he tossed it. Aizawa held up the machine, showing a blinking infinity sign. Dazai cheered, loud enough for the group to hear.

"Wooooo! Good job Hatrack~"

The redhead in question shouted something back, muttering to himself. Once Chuuya was done, the broccoli haired kid stepped forward. His face seemed oddly determined, and Dazai caught flickers of green around his fingers. Dancing ribbons of electricity, only for nothing to happen when he let go of the ball.

Dazai couldn't hear from back here, but he presumed it was something about the kid's quirk. He wasn't bothered to lip-read, vision slightly hazy anyway. He might be lacking oxygen, maybe he wrapped his chest bandages too tight.

Eventually the broccoli took back the ball, preparing to throw. His fingertips crackled with lightening, a perfect little lightshow across the ground, and he threw. The ball flew away sharply, but Dazai was more interested in the way he was clutching his hand. One finger mangled and purple, bent out of shape. A bad break, Dazai could guess that much. Actually, not a break. Complete shattering of the bones, with damage to the joints. A break wouldn't twist it like that.

Fascinating.

The green haired kid held up his hand, disgusting and bloody, grinning widely.

Dazai looked away at that point, not caring about the fit Bakugou was currently having or the broccoli being sent away to the nurse. Boring.

The next test was a 50-metre dash, which would probably be a better method of figuring out his classmate's quirks than the throw test. An actual opportunity to get creative. As he adjusted his seating position to put less pressure on his chest, Chuuya came over in the short in between space.

"Oi, Mackerel." His partner ruffled his hair, causing Dazai to hiss and bat at his hand.

"Bad dog!" The brunet muttered, but still flopped into his partner. "This is so boring!"

"Yeah well don't get distracted and throw up next time, shithead. I managed to befriend someone. Maybe." The redhead groaned. "She has good music taste. Apparently her quirk revolves around soundwaves, wonder what No Longer Human would do to her."

Dazai hummed. "That'll be fun to test out. Did you manage to get any other names?"

"Well the person I was talking to is Jirou Kyoka, the green haired fucker is Midoriya Izuku, and the robotic guy who looks like he has a stick up his ass? Iida Tenya. Also, the brown haired girl? The one who also got infinity on the test? She's Uraraka Ochako." Chuuya summarised.

Dazai nuzzled closer to his partner, making a low noise in his throat (Chuuya thought it was a purr. The theory his partner is a fish-cat hybrid continues) in acknowledgement. "Good dog."

"I'm not your goddamn dog-!"

"Nakahara! Dazai!" A voice made the redhead look up, but Dazai stayed where he was. Chibi could handle a hero wannabe. "Those acts of affection are not appropriate for school grounds!"

It was the blue haired boy with glasses. He made chopping hand motions, glaring at the pair. Dazai spoke up after that, squinting from his slightly elevated position. "Are you homophobic? How could you Iida! I thought you were a hero!"

The boy stuttered, going red. Chuuya stuttered a shocked laugh, ears red, covering his mouth with one hand and using the other to play with his partners hair. The brunet in question fell back into his shoulder, a clear sign he just said that to get a rise out of Iida.

"Dazai's just being a fish. We aren't together, he's just a clingy parasite." Chuuya excused eventually, still attempting to smother his laughter. "Sorry-sorry. Also, call me Chuuya. No one calls me Nakahara."

Dazai made a wounded noise, exclaiming something dramatically from his place against Chuuya, though it was muffled.

As the redhead started to complain to Iida about Dazai, the brunet fighting to be freed the entire time, Aizawa called out. "Come back in! The 50-metre dash is about to begin!"

With that Chuuya and Iida ran off, the former giving Dazai a flick on the forehead goodbye. How affectionate of his slug. Dazai, now lonely and bored, flopped onto the ground. He groaned, his ribs ached with something fierce, and he didn't have the slug to distract himself with! He didn't like pain, he liked the adrenaline it gave him, but that was when it was self inflicted. Or sharp and stabbing, sudden. Not the constant, unbearable ache in his chest.

He wondered, almost absentmindedly, if he should take off his chest bandages, only to immediately decide against it.

He had a day of this to get through, and if that wasn't painful enough he didn't know what was, but he'd rather physical pain than the mental agony of not binding. Disgusting. Dirty. He is disgusting and dirty, bleeding out on the bathroom floor because no one cares-

Emotions, no. Dazai shook his head, but his brain didn't shut up-

(Kouyou was defensive of the women in her care. They should not be forced into sexual acts, perverts are a crime above murder, etc. Mafia members can have their own twisted morals--Dazai certainly did.

He remembered when he first joined the mafia, when he wasn't quite demonic, not yet. He wasn't disgusting and dirty, clean enough for her to look in the eyes without discomfort. Not fear, she wasn't scared of him. She was horrified.

Dazai remembered when Mori said information was more important than boundaries, the first time he came back from a mission empty handed. Kouyou standing to the side, and she said nothing.

She watched as Mori, the creepy piece of shit, ran fingers through his prodigy's hair, whispering into his ear. Dazai took those words to heart.

His emotions, dumb chemicals in his brain, were second to his job. Yet he didn't question it when he watched Kouyou fawn over girls who had been raped, assaulted, taught them how to avoid getting fucked by a man that knows too much. Sex was only worth information when it was the demon selling his body, when it was him coming back to the port mafia with blood staining his pants and the remnants of cum on his face because he needed one file.

Chuuya noticed. Of course he did. He noticed the way Dazai would accept advances with practised ease, willing to do anything in exchange for knowledge. Chuuya had shouted at him, slamming the brunet's skull into a fucking wall and screamed. About how this was ruining him, about how stupid he was, only to be told to fuck off and mind his business. Dazai was fine. He was fine.

Dazai remembered, faintly, telling Mori that his client, his informant, got a little too rough when questioned about the concussion. He remembered his partner looking at him with something unreadable in his eyes, putting Dazai on edge because the one thing he was good for was reading people.

Kouyou was defensive of the women in her care. Dazai was neither, and he should be fucking proud of that.

No matter how many times he's been called a tranny, a faggot, a slut. It was worth it. The ends justifies the means.

Even if he hated it.)

Dazai bit his fingers, hard. He hated the leftover taste in his mouth when he thought like that, poisonous and salty and sweet and metallic. Ew.

He shook off the jittery, faded feeling and looked back over to the class. Chuuya had already gone, by the looks of it, and only a few more to go. Dazai watched each person compete, focusing on their quirks closely. From what he'd already observed, quirks were entirely biological. while abilities weren't. So quirks were bound by physics and science, which explained the lack of control.

They were outlawed, so most kids probably didn't train much, if at all, and they were probably closer to an extra limb than a supernatural power. Overusing it caused drawbacks, like muscle soreness if you were to overexert an arm. It was motor control, they hadn't trained the limb, hadn't learnt to walk, and were now struggling to control it precisely.

Dazai found it fascinating.

Eventually, they finished the sprints. Midoriya got back at one point, finger fully healed as he scarfed down candy for whatever reason. Dazai would have to ask. The next was the grip test.

Dazai continued to merely observe the next few exams, nothing of note happening. It was a good distraction, though. Trying to figure out how each quirk worked, from a science perspective.

Todoroki was easy to figure out, forced condensation and moisture gathering, causing the air to become devoid of water and the spots he needed ice considerably colder before the actual ice formed. Bakugou had something in his sweat, so the explosions were probably caused by compounds reacting, and one could be produced on will. Tsu was a mutant, pretty easy to figure out. Hagakure (he'd picked up her name from passing chatter, apparently someone completely invisible meant something. Dazai couldn't help but wonder how her quirk helped her in any of the physical tests but gave up trying to work it out) was a form of light bending, if Dazai had to guess. Forcing light, and the human eye, not to perceive her, while animals who could sense heat or had a larger range of eye-thingies (he was tired, as is the author. Wait don't break the forth wall-) would be able to see her.

Dazai's musings were certainly fun, and he wondered how No Longer Human would affect something biological. If his theories were correct, and quirks were cells that have bonded to the body's normal ones, then he erased those cells. But then wouldn't that cause damage to the remaining cells? Further research needed.

But he can't hurt the U.A. kids...maybe he'd have to kidnap someone sooner than he thought.

His absentminded rambles were soon stopped by Chuuya grabbing him by the back of his shirt, dragging him over to the class. "C'mon fish, Aizawa's about to give out the scores."

"Brute-dog-slug-! Let me goooo!" Dazai whined, thrashing around. His face was pressed against the dirt uncomfortably, and his uniform rolled up at the harsh movement. Thank the Gods he doesn't believe in (beside Arahabaki because that fucker could die in a ditch-) he wrapped his bandages around his torso. Chuuya, in all his doggy glory, refused to let go.

Dazai, deciding that this was more unpleasant than the questioning stares of his classmates, darted forward and bit his partners neck. Like a vampire. Said partner jumped away, growling. "What the fuck Dazai?!"

The brunet gave him an innocent, wide eyed look. "What did I do Chibi~"

Dazai ignored Chuuya's shouting about how he was bitten by a fucking fish, wandering over to 1-A.

"I have arrived!"

...

He received a dull blink, head tilt, and grimace (Aizawa) from the class.

Tough crowd.

"Fucking fish. The homeless hero has the scores, thought you'd wanna see them." Chuuya grumbled out, gesturing to a large screen nearby. Just as he said that, those scores blinked onto the screen, with Chuuya at the top and Midoriya at the bottom. "Because I know you weren't listening, the person at the bottom gets expelled."

Well. That explains Midoriya's horrified face. Except...Dazai noted a flicker through his teachers hand, the slight tensing of his ankles, the way his eyes glinted with something unrecognisable. The man was clearly trying to scare them. Get them to try their best and so on. Or he was fully willing to expel people and was just interested in the broccoli. Dazai wouldn't blame him.

"No he's not." Well. May as well fuck with them. Dazai called it out loud enough for the entire class to hear, eliciting shockwaves of noise. First of all, ew. Second of all, are all of these kids this dense? "This is why I'm the smart one, Slug! He's just trying to get you to care. Duh. Unless he would actually expel someone, which in that case, my dad would be pissed, don't pick me."

Referring to Mori as his father felt gross. Something slimy, crawling up and down his throat and triggering his gag reflex. Chuuya gave him a knowing, but somewhat curious look.

Aizawa huffed. "Did you have to ruin it...?" Yep! Dazai exists to be a nuisance after all. "...but yes. It was a logical ruse. No one is being expelled. Now go get changed back into your normal uniforms, you have normal classes for the next few periods."

------

Chuuya hated English with every fibre of his being.

He was being taught by a fucking cockatiel, he didn't speak a word of the language, and Dazai was being infuriating.

...at least his mackerel was back to normal.

Chapter Text

Dazai scratched at his wrists, the bandages itching and uncomfortable. Despite the voice in the back of his head whispering that he wasn't safe wasn't safe, he loosened them a tiny bit. He was inside his apartment-room thing, rocking back and forth on the shitty, creaking bed because U.A. had the money for entire mock cities but not for half decent beds-

-he was getting distracted.

Chuuya was in the next room over, cooking because apparently he needs to eat, and the slug is making so much noise. On top of that, it was only day one of this hell. How much more of this can Dazai take before he quite literally shoots himself? He made a deal with Mori a while ago not to use a gun in his suicide attempts (apparently it was 'harder to fix'), but the doctor could suck it. He definitely didn't have a psychology degree, for fucks sake.

The blankets pooled around him were different to his single, scratchy one from his shipping container and it bothered him.

Dazai fell backwards into the bed with a sigh. He hated school.

The lessons were easy and the uniforms were scratchy, his classmates milled about and spoke too loudly, all of them were so optimistic it hurt. Life isn't black or white, stealing is stealing, sure, but that doesn't make it morally wrong. He wondered how Nezu of all people (rats?) managed to get here. The dumbass that managed to make a deal with Mori babysitting a bunch of toddlers? How pathetic.

Just as Dazai managed to loosen his bandages enough that they weren't digging into his open, festering wounds, Chuuya slammed open the door. He wasn't wearing his contact anymore, his one brown eye glimmering in the dull light of the room.

"How is it already a mess in here--it's been a day Mackerel! A day!" The redhead exclaimed, gesturing to the papers strewn across the floor, clothing pile in the corner, and stuffed toys scattered throughout the space. "You know what, I don't want to know. Tonight try sleeping, though, instead of fucking up the room."

Of course the slug already knew. He's loyal.

Dazai shrugged, scrambling off the bed and trailing behind Chuuya. Once in the kitchen, he flopped over his partners back. "What did you make~"

"Just soup. I didn't want to risk upsetting your stomach again."

How thoughtful. Dazai grinned, making sure his canines flashed, before sitting at the kitchen bench. Chuuya sat beside him, at the larger portion size of course, and started eating without fuss. Dazai knew why, his partner knew he found it easier to eat when someone else was as well. Thoughtful.

His partner was thoughtful.

The brunet ate slowly, forcing a few mouthfuls down his throat before groaning. He felt sick, bloated and full. Like a corpse. He pushed the bowl towards his partner with an unintelligible groan, flopping onto the counter and resting his head on the cool bench. Chuuya took the bowl, finishing off the remains (approximately 3 quarters of what was originally inside), and gesturing to Dazai's arms. "Your bandages are loose. Want help wrapping them?"

Dazai glanced upward, turning his head to the side slightly. He liked touch, he liked Chuuya's touch, and he knew that his partner was good at wrapping his bandages. But he didn't want to be itchy or uncomfortable but he didn't want to be exposed and-

-he can just say yes. "Such a loyal dog, offering to help his master!"

"I'm not your damn dog!" Despite the complaint, Chuuya followed him to his bedroom, where he kept his bandages. He'd brought a shit ton of a kind he doesn't like, they were cheaper and he didn't want to replace his bandages a ton a while here. Attracting unnecessary attention, as Mori would say. When Chuuya saw the kind he'd brought, he glared. "Of fucking course...we're going out and getting ones you can tolerate tomorrow, shithead. Now sit down."

Dazai, rolling his eyes at his partners dramatics, sat on a clear space of the floor. Chuuya kneeled in front of him, hands trembling lightly as they unwound his bandages. Blue and brown eyes squinted in concentration, thumb tracing each scar and scab with a reverence Dazai didn't quite deserve.

Once the first arm was bare, the bandages were folded and placed to the side, instead of thrown around aimlessly like Dazai would do. Chuuya said his ability to stew in his own filth was as impressive as it was disgusting, he supposed.

"I'm moving onto the next arm now." Chibi whispered, soft and warning, and he moved his hands to the other arm. Careful, deft fingers unwinding them from the wrist up, eyes tracing each scar as if mapping them out. Stars, Dazai remembered his partner saying once. Scars are stars, making constellations on your skin. Stories told through white lines and careful precision. Dazai had laughed it off, but it stuck with him. His scars weren't disgusting to the slug, and that meant so much it hurt.

Before he'd even processed it, Chuuya was done with his arm and tapped his wrist to get his attention. "Would you like me to help with your legs and torso, or do you want me to wrap up your arms and leave you to do the rest?"

Dazai hummed, a sign he was present, before glancing to the side as he thought. "You can help, but I won't rewrap them until tomorrow. I don't have any fresh wounds, and this kind of bandage is itchy."

Chuuya nodded, gesturing for him to take of his shirt. The brunet complied, wincing at the pressure it put on his chest as he maneuvered through the fabric. His partner waited patiently, fingers lightly tapping his thighs.

Once Dazai managed to remove his shirt, Chuuya started unwinding those bandages. Now, neither of them were self-conscious--something something 'I've seen you bleed out, your penis means nothing' and whatnot, but the idea of exposing himself to this degree made the brunet shiver. It wasn't the act of being perceived, it was the fact he wasn't quite a man. It was the fact his scars were mottled across the skin and poorly cared for. It was the faint bruising on his sides from unsafe binding.

But the redhead sitting across from him simply unwrapped the rough fabric, squinting at a red, pus-filled bullet-graze on Dazai's side before moving on. Chibi was so overprotective sometimes...it wasn't awful, at least.

Once the chest bandages were strewn with the ones from his arms, Dazai tapped the circulation lines around his chest with a hum. "Can I have a shirt?"

Chuuya, not commenting on the quieter way the words were whispered, went and grabbed one of Dazai's shirts from his clothes pile. It fit weirdly due to his lanky frame, with a band neither of them recognised on the front, but Chuuya knew his partner wore it when he was stressed. Dysphoric, really.

Dazai shoved it on with a slight wince, but looked to his partner afterwards. "I guess I'll strip for you~"

He received a hit to the back of the head, Chuuya muttering with a glare. "Not my fault you never change your bandages you filthy fish..."

Regardless, the redhead unwrapped Dazai's legs with practiced precision, anything important covered with boxers the brunet stole from him when they first became partners. Once done, he moved onto Dazai's arms, his touch still warm and fierce and gentle compared to anyone else's.

He resisted the urge to melt into his partners arms, not worth the embarrassment, and simply shooed Chuuya from his room once the redhead had rewrapped his arms as well.

The lingering touch kept him more awake than the perpetual itch from his wounds.

------

"Chuuyaaaa..." Dazai whined, resting against the kitchen counter with a dejected look on his face. "I don't want to go to school!"

"It's our second day dumbass!" His partner snapped in response, shovelling cereal into his mouth. "Suck it up."

Dazai whined, flopping down with a heavy sigh. He already wrapped up his chest, the itchy sensation reason enough for his bad mood, but then he remembered he had to put up with children. Optimistic teens with no scars marring their skin or anxiety heavy in their gut. It was frankly pathetic, raising a child without trauma? Disgusting...or most of them, at least. That sparkly fuck had something going on, Bakugou was too insecure for it to be a normal mental illness thing, and that wasn't even going into Todoroki.

At least it gave the brunet something to do.

Entertainment value, he supposed.

Chibi finished up his food soon enough, shoving past his partner to wash his bowl. The redhead had stopped trying to get Dazai to eat on the mornings of bad days, nausea and sensory discomfort even worse when he first wakes up, so the remnants of food were washed away quickly as Chuuya set the ceramic aside to dry.

"When do you want to go to school?" Chuuya said, only to pause and glare at the floor. "That felt so wrong to say, what the fuck-"

"Language Chibi! And we should leave in 10 minutes; we'll be about 20 minutes early then." Dazai hummed, tapping his fingers together. He liked being early on principle, he just liked messing with Mori and being late to every meeting was a valid way to do that.

The brunet hopped off the counter, wincing at the stabbing pain from his ribs, before hurrying away to his room. He wanted to read his most recent toxicology book while he waited, Chuuya could entertain himself. Dogs were good at being left home alone, it's fine.

In around 10 minutes, Dazai managed to get himself and Chuuya out the door, wandering the halls of U.A. as the brunet guided them to 1-A's classroom. Bag slung over his shoulder, heavy and uncomfortable, he kept his grip on his partners wrist unrelenting. The redhead didn't attempt escape, thank god, but he never liked being dragged around and Dazai didn't want to let go if he was bitten.

They both knew the brunet was more likely to bite, but the dog jokes were just so funny!

Chibi lacked a sense of humour, Dazai deduced as he came to stand in front of the towering doors. He shoved them open, still dragging his partner behind him, and eventually settled at their (forcefully) shared desk.

Chuuya grumbled something, before taking out a notebook and scribbling down music notes. Was he writing songs again? The slug could play guitar, quite well in fact, and occasionally wrote little pieces for them. Dazai hovered, watching his vague sketching as he mapped out sound. The brunet rested his chin on his partners shoulder, tucking his head into Chuuya's shoulder and inhaling his scent. The soap in the bathroom, aloe vera and mint mixed together in a weirdly sweet concoction, clung to his partner's skin. It was comforting, warm and human. So, so human.

The stupidest thing his partner had ever done was question his humanity. Dazai knew that as a fact. Chuuya Nakahara was human, so painfully, unabashedly human that it made him ache.

The brunet wrapped his arms around the redhead's waist in response to that thought, comforting and familiar.

Physical affection wasn't rare from Dazai, but it was stilted. Not even the best actor could cover up the fact he was acting, forcing himself to lightly brush against people, cling to their sleeves like a lost kitten, begging for reverence and reciprocated touch. It was forced, though. He hated it, skin crawling with sweat and bugs, as if he hadn't changed his bandages often enough, as he tried to convince the eyes on his figure he was fine. Normal.

He didn't enjoy touch, unless it was from Chuuya.

Maybe it was the humanity, emotions and heterochromia and perfection and imperfection, next to Dazai's inhumanity, his malfunctioning brain chemicals and mask covering his personality. Maybe it was how precious his partner made him feel, like he was more than a dog made to heel by its master's feet.

Dazai tightened his hold on Chuuya. The redhead whispered something unintelligible into his hair, comforting and nothing, before going back to his writing. Dazai knew the students in the class were looking at them weirdly, he knew there were eyes tracing every slight movement he made and every breath he took, but he couldn't find it within himself to care.

Chibi could hold his own against a bunch of brats, with or without his power.

Chuuya tapped his wrist, morse code. 'Jirou approaching, look up'. Dazai obeyed without much fuss, squinting at the approaching figure. He hadn't studied her before this, Slug said she was nice enough but stood out, so probably not anything worth noting. She had almost shoulder length hair, deep purple, with lengthened earlobes like headphone jacks. Fascinating.

The girl smiled in greeting, but it seemed forced by Dazai's standards.

"Excuse me, I was wondering what you were writing?" She spoke softly, but with a certain accent to her voice that stood out to Dazai. A lilt, almost teasing but more so testing. Seeing if she was allowed to joke or not. "I noticed it was formatted similarly to music sheets, do you play anything?"

Chuuya grinned, shrugging slightly (Dazai was dislodged, but he went but to clinging to his partner after a moment). "I play guitar, but I'm not good by any means."

Dazai listened to the conversation, deciding against mentioning his musical abilities (violin and piano) out of dislike for the subject. He didn't learn out of passion, he learnt out of curiosity and need. It made seducing musicians easier, as Mori liked to say. The brunet merely wondered why he had to seduce so many musicians in the first place--where were they getting classified information from? Their cellos?

Jirou seemed interesting, sheer curiosity made Dazai avoid interfering with the conversation. Chuuya was better at socialising, and they had similar music taste, from what the brunet gathered. His slug was such a brute, listening to the things he did...

...Dazai didn't care for music, so the complaints were mostly to annoy his partner. The slug was so funny when he got mad, like an angry ginger dog!

"Hm? Dazai?"

The brunet refocused when he heard his name, raising an eyebrow. Chuuya was looking at him now, as was Jirou. His partner had been the one to speak.

"He's a clingy parasite. Oi, Mackerel?" Dazai made a noise, glaring at his partner. He was trying to think over here! Regardless, he let the redhead ask. "Do you play an instrument?"

Made sense, he supposed. "Violin and Piano."

Jirou seemed to brighten. "Really?"

"Yep! My...father thought music a necessary skill, and instruments are a good way to get theory through your brain quickly." Dazai grinned, resting his chin on Chuuya's shoulder as he moved his head. His partner rolled his eyes. "Chibi here has far more passion, though. He's amazinng~!"

"That's cause I'm the only person you've ever heard play, dumbass." Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes. Dazai can't help but wonder what the familiar motion would look like right now without the blue contact. He never saw his partners heterochromia in the light, rays of sunlight causing the brown to become honeyed and gold. "And yeah. The fish doesn't give a shit about music, I didn't even know he could play an instrument."

Dazai stuck his tongue out but allowed the conversation to continue. Even if it ended up with Chuuya complaining about the brunet the entire time, relationship building mattered and all that. At least Dazai could use this as an excuse to avoid befriending the kids himself. Chibi was better at people, and all that nonsense. He was better at being friendly, but Dazai might have to give him some classes in manipulation...

...humans tend to show their hearts on their sleeves.

------

"Your father wasn't a glassblower, Iida!" Dazai called out joyfully, rocking back and forth in his seat. The boy in question blinking, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid I don't know that idiom-"

"It's Finnish. Means you aren't made of glass, I can't see through you." Dazai huffed. These hero students were so uninformed...it was disgusting. "So, sit down and stop lecturing me and Chibi here so we can actually start the class, please."

The robotic fuck sat quickly, flushed red in embarrassment. Really, how many times would Dazai have to humble him before he accepted that Soukoku did not leave each other behind. That went against like...everything about a partnership? Physical affection wasn't the devil, it's not like Dazai could love someone, so romance and sex weren't emotional. Means to an end, hero students need to understand that.

Midnight, the teacher currently attempting to organise the class, squinted. "I...did not know that."

Chuuya, piping up from his previously silent acceptance of the situation, spoke. "The fish knows too much. I once listened to him quote the first few pages of the Old Testament from the Christian bible in perfect English, translate it into Japanese without breaking a sweat, and then translate it into Russian, then explain what it meant in casual spoken language in all three languages. Best part? It wasn't off memory. Gin--someone else asked him for a specific verse from a different part of the Old Testament in all three languages and he got that right too."

Dazai giggled, grinning at the faintly concerned faces throughout the classroom.

"I also speak French, Italian and Spanish, but they hardly count. Similar dialects, you know how it is." He paused, pretending to think for a bit. "I know JSL, so does Chibi. I know ASL pretty well, but I'm working on BSL and AUSLAN right now."

Well, that was an introduction. Dazai wasn't lying, but he left out the part where his entire childhood was spent with nothing to do but learn. He knew undergraduate mathematics by the time he was 11, and he doesn't even like math! When faced with nothing but academics to do, one ends up above average.

Chuuya knew fragments of most languages, including made up ones, from his time on the streets. Barely enough to hold a conversation without merging Japanese and whatever it was, though.

Midnight paused from where she was at the front of the class, something flickering in her eyes. While the classroom was momentarily silent, Aoyama spoke up.

[You speak French? Really?] He mused, squinting at Dazai oddly. The brunet in question blinked, responding easily.

[Yep! I learnt it third, not including Japanese. English, Italian, and then French, if you want the exact order.] He hummed, grinning. Aoyama blinked, glancing away.

[Quite impressive. And flamboyant. Almost as sparkly as me.] The words were forced, but to anyone else it would've seemed genuine. Dazai merely hummed.

"Well, we're meant to be learning art history, right? Go on Midnight, teach us." It was mocking and he knew it, Chuuya clearly did too judging by the hit to the back of the head he received. "Bad dog!"

"I'm not your damn dog, for one! And for two, would you mind not confusing everyone in this room by your insane fucking intellect!"

Dazai didn't grace that with a response.

The class continued, slightly stilted. Oh, how he loved to cause chaos.

------

Once it was lunch, Dazai dragged Chuuya away to the outside. The cafeteria was loud and crowded, he shrugged when questioned. School was tiring.

The redhead didn't have to know he was lying.

They settled in a small pocket of space, a tiny corner where camera couldn't reach. The building walls were cold and towering behind Dazai, terrifyingly tall when he was curled up at their foot. Chuuya settled across from him, tearing into a sandwich. The redhead would've forced his partner to eat, but Dazai seemed more distant and alert. Food could be addressed later.

"Classes must be boring as hell for you, huh?" Chuuya spoke up eventually. Dazai glanced to him, shrugging.

"Yep. Painfully easy, and here I thought I might get a proper education here instead of being bored and overwhelmed the entire time!" Dazai whined, picking at his bandages. The fabric was itchy, but he didn't quite mind. "Also, I might've lied."

"Of course--what did you do?"

"In approximately 3 minutes, an alarm is going to go off, signalling the break in of the 'media'. Don't worry, they won't approach us. I didn't want to be suffocated in the hoard of children quite literally killing each other." He shrugged, and his partner sighed heavily. The redhead accepted that Dazai knew things he realistically shouldn't a while ago, it was more the principle of it. They're supposed to trust each other, and yet Dazai doesn't.

He does, with his life. With his safety. With anything superficial. But betrayal? Emotions? Information that Chuuya should definitely know? He didn't. Well he did. The redhead knew it wasn't a lack of trust, it was the knowledge that if something goes wrong, Chuuya can pick up the pieces. It was too much trust and too much boredom, a give and take of lives and importance without the simple act of a hello.

Unhealthy.

Poisonous.

Dazai was a fucking fish, and anxious fish, traumatised fish, were slippery.

So Chuuya stopped bothering to convince his partner this wasn't good.

It wouldn't work, and he'd come to terms with it. For now they can sit together in silence while one of them eats for a few minutes, only to huddle up closer while Dazai covers his ears with a whine once the alarms start blaring.

They'll go to class, pretend this is fine, and they'll do it forever. Who's going to stop them, after all?

Chapter Text

Still somehow on their second day, Dazai leaned against Chuuya with a huff. The last two periods were hero classes, last he checked, yet they were still cooped up in a classroom. At least he was further from death than yesterday this time, and he looked forward to beating up children, metaphorically. The physical violence was Chibi's job, the brunet just wanted to find out what made them tick.

Who knows, in a decades time when they're no longer aspiring to be pro heroes and have actually managed to get a job as one it'll be useful for keeping them away from Yokohama. Or Dazai is thinking a little too far ahead, because there isn't a single person in this room who isn't worryingly self-sacrificing, and this environment doesn't seem beneficial for that. From a mental health perspective, he means. Being willing to die wasn't a fun feeling, glamorising passive suicidal ideation is certainly hilarious to watch though.

The classroom was bustling, whiny complaints and stories from the earlier...incident...echoing in and out of Dazai's head. He was so glad he missed that, even if it was more a hunch than anything else. Something something people cramming their way through a gate, attempting to actively assault students to get what? Information on a flashy dick with too many muscles? Weirdos.

It was common sense. Quirks were destructive and risky, media was insane in this city, and after hours out there waiting for something, someone would've gotten bored of waiting. Or someone was actively malicious, broke into the school in the chaos, and set it up at lunchtime because everyone would be in one place.

Both were realistic, but Dazai needed more information to figure out those specifics-

-Chuuya elbowed him sharply, glaring. The brunet stuck his tongue out but went back to paying attention. Chibi was mean.

Aizawa was standing at the front of the class, eyes drooped and tired. His voice was gravelly and Dazai could smell the thick caffeine from over here. Maybe he should try some of Present Mics ADHD meds...don't ask how he knows about those.

"Go to the locker rooms and change into your hero costumes, requested before school. They should be in your lockers, yada yada...go out to Grounds B. Where your practical exam was held, this is your first class by All Might, so get excited kids." The last part was said with such hatred, distaste, really, and disgust that Dazai had to stifle his laugh. As did Chuuya, coughing awkwardly. Luckily, the rest of the class was too busy cheering to notice the somewhat suffocating process of not laughing their asses off, and rushed out of the class.

Dazai let his partner lead the way, stalking along before looking to him. "Do we even have 'hero costumes'?"

"Yep! Don't worry, they're just our normal clothes from home, with slight modifications--they might be a little different to what we're used to though, I wasn't able to get out of the support department making them." Dazai shrugged, running a hand through his hair. "The good news is I negotiated for a gun...or two. The bad news is that it's provided by the school, has rubber bullets and the other one has tranquilizer darts. I'll replace the sedative in them with something else later."

Chuuya grunted. "Fucking weirdo."

Dazai, used to his partners refusal to acknowledge how superior guns were to brute force, simply sped up. He'd added an extra coating of bandages, and been a lot more thorough with the ones on his stomach than normal, but he wanted to get changed quickly.

Spending more time in that god forsaken room than necessary would be the death of him.

Chuuya rushed to keep up, only to end up dragging Dazai by the end of it, and pushed them both into a corner where their lockers were. He shoved his open, Dazai watching from his resting spot, and grabbed the suit inside.

The only real difference was that Dazai added an embroidered wildflower in the corner, dark red, commenting about how it made the support departments job harder. He handed Chuuya a small, slug shaped tracker as well, gesturing to the matching fish one in his pocket.

The school didn't have to know they were anything more than pretty trinkets, did they?

Once Chibi was done, he positioned himself infront of the brunet without being asked. Dazai, not bothered to make fun of him, shoved his own clothes on. Double checking his chosen weapons had bullets, he tucked them back into his coat (a copy of Mori's, because the doctor would have a tantrum if the original were damaged) and pinned the fish charm to his collar.

They both got dressed fast, used to formal wear, and left before one of them started crying at the sheer horror of these children's costumes. Really, how was that practical? At least Dazai and Chuuya had a reason to be formal, neither of them needed support, but a fucking cape? And spandex? So much spandex...

Disgusting.

Horrifying.

A crime against their retinas.

Dazai flopped over his partners back once they were outside, surveying the scene. All Might was reading a book...'How to teach: for amateurs'. Nope, not opening that can of worms. The onyl other person already dressed was Jirou, who, in Dazai's professional opinion, looked half decent.

She seemed content to wait by the girls change rooms, tapping her fingers together and humming. Dazai wasn't going to bother her, that was Chuuya's job after all.

"Hey Mackerel?" The redhead asked, seemingly uncaring of the emptiness. "What are you planning to lace the bullets with?"

Dazai hummed. "Dexamphetamine."

"And that does...?" Bullying the Slug was so fun, he needed to learn his medication!

"It's a short acting medication prescribed to those with ADHD! Mori tried to give it to me once, but when all it did was increase my productivity rates he said 'I can't legally give out a diagnosis Dazai, and getting this bottle was hard enough-'." Dazai, was, as expected, painfully on point with Mori's voice. "Anyway, I don't plan to lace the bullets with anything. If they can withstand a rubber bullet hitting them full force and keep going, they could probably manage a real bullet. As long as it's a graze, or a non-vital area, but still."

Chuuya didn't react to the first part, only to take a deep inhale after Dazai's rambling. "For fucks sake...and ok. Whatever. Not my problem."

They didn't talk after that, Dazai observing the kids emerging instead. Yaoyorozu was, to be frank, a major health risk. Everything was exposed, had she not realised zippers existed? Or, at the very least, that in an emergency ripped clothing was easier to mend than deadly injuries?

And judging by Chuuya's twitching eye, he was just as annoyed about this as Kouyou would be. It wasn't that she couldn't expose her body, it was the fact the grape bitch (who hadn't been deemed a mention out of sheer hatred for his existence) was drooling over it. Pathetic, slimy little-

Anyway. The costumes were horrendous, and weird, and even the more practical sides of them (such as Bakugou's grenade style things, Dazai wasn't stupid, they clearly held sweat) were overly flashy and purposeless.

Gross. Did no one teach these children to dress? Oh he was starting to sound like Chibi--it was impressive how irritated he was by these children.

"Yo! Dazai and Nakahara!" A voice, bright and painfully ecstatic, called from nearby. A kid with streaks of lightening in his hair, hands parking off every now and then in a similar fashion to Bakugou. If his quirk was electricity based, maybe it was the constant need to expel energy like how to explosive kid needed to expel...whatever it was in his body that triggered explosions. More research needed.

The kid skidded to a halt in front of them.

"You look sick! But how do your costumes help your quirks?"

Dazai didn't wince at the word, but he had to force himself. Abilities. Quirks were weaker and biological, oddly enough. The kid was uninformed to a worrying degree. Chuuya, equally irritated by the term, spoke up.

"The Mackerel next to me wouldn't benefit from any practical gear. And I don't see the point, don't need it." He shrugged, Dazai giving him a pat on the head.

"Yep~! The slug is such a brute, practical gear would only make him worse!" He whined, as if that was an actual problem. In reality his partners overprotective and violent nature made Dazai comfortable enough to stop paying attention in this place, which was a very hard bar to reach.

"What?! Do you think you're so much better than us-" Bakugou but in, storming over. He was fuming, which, no offence, this was a dumb thing to get mad over. "The fucking twig didn't even participate yesterday!"

Dazai breathed out heavily, leaning onto Chuuya. This kid's self-esteem was concerningly low.

"Wait Kacchan, chill! Support gear won't help everyone, look at Sensei for All Might's sake!" The electric kid hurried out, blinking at Dazai and Chuuya as if to apologise. Before either of them could say anything, someone else ran up, hair somehow redder than the slugs and defying gravity for all to see; seriously, can these kids stop having hair that reaches the moon? Genuinely disgusting.

"Bakubro!" The new kid shouted, slamming into Bakugou's back with the force of a truck. He was shoved away, but it wasn't quite as aggressive as it could be. Perhaps they were growing on each other? "Don't run off like that! Sorry Nakahara, Dazai."

The pair in question looked to him with raised eyebrows. Dazai spoke first. "No worries...?"

"Kirishima Eijirou! I'm so sorry I forgot to give you my name--Kamibro how did I forget to give them my name? That's so unmanly!"

Chuuya and Dazai visibly flinched at the word, glancing between each other. The brunet was suddenly painfully aware of his too-high voice, too-wide hips, not quite flat chest. A word shouldn't do this--it wasn't fair. His partner tugged his collar, forcing him to rest on the redhead's shoulder. Despite the objective embarrassment, it worked. Comfortable, warm, familiar and hidden.

"Yeah well, we don't know the electric kid's name either. Also, call me Chuuya." Chuuya grumbled, glaring at the ground. He kicked a rock a little ways away, and decidedly looked away from Bakugou's curious glare.

"Kaminari Denki! The blondie is Bakugou Katsuki, we know your names from Jirou." The electric kid in question blurted, running an awkward hand through his hair. Dazai noted the fidgeting apathetically. The undiagnosed mental health conditions in this class grew more every moment and it was rather concerning.

Kaminari suddenly paused, seeming to reboot. "Wait! What's your quirk, Dazai? I know Chuuya's is gravity related, duh, but you didn't do anything yesterday so-"

"Nullification." Dazai muttered, trying to avoid the onslaught of rambling to the best of his abilities. "Physical touch activates it, and I can't turn it off."

Chuuya nodded. "Feels weird as hell, too. Would not recommend."

Kirishima gave the also-redhead an odd look. "Isn't he...draped over your shoulders?"

Fair enough. Dazai was, in fact, draped over the slug's shoulders.

"I'm used to it. Clingy parasite doesn't leave me alone. You guys aren't-"

Before he could finish that statement, Bakugou darted forward, clearly with the intent to grab Dazai, which gross, and Chuuya had to throw him off to shove the blonde back. Dazai, from his place on the floor, slightly winded, took a sharp inhale of breath, rubbing at his wrist and neck with a groan.

He didn't like pain. Could he handle it? To the point where it was worrying, yes. But it sucked.

Bakugou, like the fucker deserved, was thrown into the ground after a moment, red glow engulfing him and keeping him stuck to the floor. Gravity was one hell of a power, and Dazai thought it was beautiful. Inhuman and human all at once, crimson flickering around the edges of harmless objects as their mass pulled them together by sheer will.

Kirishima and Kaminari took a while to respond, on Dazai's standards, both looking around frantically before rushing over to Bakugou. Attempting to shake him around violently, which is a bad idea, considering how pissed Chibi looks. Dazai didn't mind if the Pomeranian broke a few ribs, not really, he wasn't going to hold the slug back.

"What the hell dude? That was like--super cool!" Kaminari exclaimed, only to deflate. "But like...kinda not cool. Could you let our friend go from...gravity? Now, if you wouldn't mind."

Kirishima nodded along, solemn. "Please let Bakubro free."

"When he learns how to ask before jumping at someone!" Chuuya snapped, kneeling next to Dazai and poking him in the forehead. "Not my fault, the fish would've done far worse."

Dazai giggled, righting himself and using Chuuya to stand. He didn't feel like pushing through the aches in his joints, not right now. Faking pain might help with the whole 'normal teenagers' thing, as well.

But really, had Bakugou never learnt to be careful? His parents must suck.

"I think you'll find your friend is lucky if bruised ribs is all he gets after that stunt. Chibi here is my dog, and he'll protect his master without a second thought." The words were low, dangerous. A warning. Joking enough to seem innocent, but harsh enough to poke at their subconscious, worming into their brains and echoing.

Firing off adrenaline and cortisol, panicked and worried over seemingly nothing.

Dazai had long since mastered that tone.

"You're a freak!" Bakugou hissed from the ground. To be fair, he was making a valiant effort at escaping Tainted Sorrow, it just...wasn't working very well. Chuuya seemed to find it funny, but this was attracting a bit too much attention and Dazai's ribs still hurt.

"Well aware you little puppy! Now, Chibi, let him go. If he tries to touch me again, blend up his brain matter with breast milk. He needs it for the development, you know? Bit stunted over there." Dazai giggled, brushing dirt off his suit. Really, these were brand new. Rude.

Chuuya huffed, but obeyed. He bared his teeth when Bakugou jumped up. Such a good guard dog!

The blonde in question growled, about to step forward before the other two held him down. Kaminari sighed, mumbling something under his breath while Kirishima gave an apologetic grin.

Before the slight confrontation could continue, All Might called out for attention. His voice was so grating, aggressively heroic and sarcastic and scared all at once. Dazai wouldn't be surprised if the fucker was only famous for his strength, because he may have been hiding something but it wasn't an ace to use against others. More of an...awkward secret, he supposed.

"I am here!"

Ew what is that catchphrase-

Chuuya looked equally weirded out, not even bothering to hide his discomfort.

"As a teacher!" Yeah no shit, continue. "Teaching you heroics!"

Also obvious. Dazai wanted to smash this guys skull in more than he wanted to watch Mori suffer, and he once hung a bloodied Australian raven corpse from his ceiling because they were the only animal the dumbass was scared of. To the brunet it looked like every other bird, but alas.

All Might continued. "To start out, we'll be having a training exercise. I'll split you into 10 teams, two per teams, and do a random draw to determine who's going against who. One team is the villains defending a 'dangerous weapon' and the other team are the heroes trying to get it back. To win, the heroes have to capture all the villains or touch the bomb in the given timeframe."

Dazai wrinkled his nose, glancing towards Chuuya. Neither of them were fond of fighting with inexperienced children, and weren't scared to admit it.

The brunet tapped a message into the side of his partners neck, keeping his hand resting on Chuuya's nape afterward so it looked like a standard show of affection. 'Partner with me. Find my name.'

The redhead leaned into his hand, an understanding, before shoving him away harshly. How rude.

Dazai squinted in annoyance, but stood back as All Might prepared the names.

When Chibi was rummaging around in there, Dazai could see the slight furrow to his brow, the way his hand was stiffer than it normally would be and his tongue flexing within his mouth. A sign that he was focused, sounding out letters. Eventually the slug pulled out a name, reading it with a grin. "Dazai Osamu. Guess you're stuck with me, Mackerel."

The redhead wandered over, leaning against his arm as they waited for everyone else to be paired up. Then All Might did the random draws.

Bakugou Katsuki and Iida Tenya vs Midoriya Izuku and Kaminari Denki

Uraraka Ochako and Yaoyorozu Momo vs Todoroki Shouto and Jirou Kyoka

Asui Tsuyu and Mineta Minoru vs Kirishima Eijirou and Aoyama Yuga

Ashido Mina and Koda Koji vs Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya

Sato Rikido and Ojiro Mashirao vs Shouji Mezo and Tokoyami Fumikage

Hagakure Toru vs Sero Hanta

The class erupted with questions about the last pair, only for All Might to rush out that there weren't enough students for the two extra positions to be taken. Sero and Hagakure would be fighting each other alone.

Dazai didn't care all that much. Chuuya would get to let out some steam, he'd get to lean against a wall and zone out for an hour, all is well in the world. Unless he needed to participate. Actually, this might be more annoying than he thought.

At that reminder, Dazai flopped into Chuuya's arms, letting out a heavy sigh. "Chibiiii~! I don't wanna fight...!"

The redhead rolled his eyes, hoisting Dazai up so his chin resting on the shorter's shoulder (if his legs were being held he'd look like a child, but Dazai couldn't find it in himself to care). Chuuya's hands were warm, human, rested against his back even as he ignored his partner.

"I'm more caught up in the irony of us being heroes. Surely this is partially based around acting, right? Would've been much easier for you to act like a fishy bastard than a heroic, dark haired saviour." Chibi laughed at his own joke, the sound gravelly and ingenuine. "And you have to participate, sweetheart. The poor baby can't handle fighting a bunch of preschoolers?"

Dazai huffed, removing himself from his partners shoulder to glare. "We're perfectly normal hero students, Slug. Maybe. Depends on how I fell, actually. But! You're the brute. You should be doing the heavy lifting."

He received a hand to the back of the head for that comment.

How rude.

All Might called for attention yet again, the first group walking away to the building to plan and prepare. This would be entertaining.

Chapter Text

Of course, as expected, Bakugou immediately split off from the team. Dazai raised an eyebrow, teeth worrying his lip, and he tried to ignore the dull ache in his ribs in favour of paying attention.

Feisty little blond, he clearly had history with Midoriya. How...interesting.

Iida paced back in forth, mumbling to himself about the activity, which was boring by the way. Kaminari and Midoriya looked equally terrified, both wringing their hands, although Kaminari wasn't muttering. "Of course-"

The voices were gravelly through the screen, but Dazai still heard Bakugou shout. Loudly.

The audio glitched, along with the visuals, but somehow Kaminari managed to veer away and run into an adjacent corridor with Midoriya left alone. Looking scared and shaky, but holding his ground. Dazai could respect it, however stupid.

Chuuya clicked his tongue, clearly thinking about the idiocy of those children, and Dazai pat him on the head, only to receive an elbow to the ribs. He then hunched over, clutching his stomach. Chuuya, now slightly taller, ran a hand through his hair in retaliation. Dazai stayed hunched over and still, because he liked the touch, however smug his dog was becoming. Eventually, the strain on his bandages made him straighten up and lean into Chuuya's side, the wall against both of their backs wasn't comfortable enough.

He looked back to the screens, aching pushed to the side, and blinked.

Somehow, in that minute, Bakugou had managed to corner Midoriya and Kaminari had managed to find Iida. Bakugou and Midoriya were arguing about something, the blond screaming and enraged as he shot out explosions--he used his right hand alot--and the broccoli of a human dodged. Very well. Concerningly well.

The screen was grainy and glitched, so he couldn't see the exact expressions or body language, but it was still interesting. Like Midoriya was moving too fast, too smooth, and too certain of every footstep. Dazai leant forward, eyes open in fascination. Midoriya slipped smoothly to the side, his breath coming out in a sharp gasp, his voice mangled through the speaker as he shouted something unintelligible. In return, Bakugou grinned, teeth bared back like a snarling dog, and he raised his wrist.

The shouting of the class stopped Dazai from hearing, and he flinched backwards. Jirou matched him, her earjacks quivering as she glared at the mob, although the worry on her face gave her away.

Chuuya grabbed Dazai's wrist, tight and harsh as he held on, and the brunette leant into the touch with a grunt. "Clingy dog."

His words were lsot in the chaos, and he curled in on himself instead of paying attention to the shouting. He already figured out the two had history, he didn't need to hear a bunch of clueless teenagers to work anything out.

Then a blast. Loud and horrid, sending white noise through his ears as he hunched over voilently, clutching onto Chuuya like a lifeline. The redhead held him up, tapping morse code into his back. Dazai shrugged his partner off, ignoring the ringing in his ears as he looked back to the screens.

Midoriya was just out of the way, his hands and costume scuffed up but alive. Clearly terrfied too.

Kaminari and Iida clearly felt the rumble, but Kaminari had clearly buzzed out early for some reason while Iida escaped the blast and just fell down with a grumble of slurred words. iida exclaimed in shock, darting forward to catch his 'enemy' on instinct, only to hiss and mutter that he was being too heroic.

How...pathetic.

All Might requested the members of the match come back for performance review a moment later, at the ringing of the timer echoed around in the now quiet room.

That was...an experience.

Dazai might have more work than he originally hoped for.

------

Todoroki and Jirou walked up to the entrance of the new building, with strict instructions not to completely destroy it because Cementoss was busy for three days.

Dazai was still watching, albeit lazily, with his eyes flicking between each screen. Todoroki looked...annoyed before he left, but the cameras weren't good enough to catch his expression this time. His slight little eybrow furrow was annoyingly subtle to most, but Dazai was not most people and he liked to study faces.

Either way, he was walking through the building briskly as Jirou stood beside him angrily. She seemed to be gesturing wildly, and her voice cut through the speakers in a soft mumble of nothing.

Something something, talk to me...

All expected.

Meanwhile, the villain team were poised in front of the bomb, both silent and awkward, even through the cameras. Dazai found it fascinating, how insecure they were, and Yaoyorozu only broke the silence to say:

"Do you have a plan?"

Uraraka hummed, and she hunched in on herself more through the screen. "Oh I...thought we could stick together? You know...I can throw things you make to build a barrier of some kind? But it might tire me out too fast so-"

Seriously, how insecure were they? Aren't they in training to be heroes?

"That's okay. It works." Yaoyorozu sighed, clearly forelorn. She probably had a better plan and was too awkward to express it. Dazai refused to accept that. He should build their ocnifdence, it'd be fun to crush it-!

Chuuya hit him over the head, and Dazai stuck his tongue out. "Slug."

"Mackerel."

He sighed, sorrowful as he draped himself over the redhead and looked back to the screen.

As expected, Todoroki paced his way to the bomb without asking for help from his teammate, despite her visibly finding it through the walls. She then followed him absentmindedly, and he found it about 2 minutes later. Yaoyorozu seemed uncertain still, but she tried. Uraraka was overzealous and got nauseas halfway through, all her slow moving projectiles frozen, and Jirou snuck up behind the bomb to touch it while the others were distracted. Truly predictable, but all of them seemed pissed off when they came back.

"We used to be like that." Chuuya mumbled. He seemed distracted. "Ignoring each other's expertise."

"Yeah well." Dazai shrugged. "How was I supposed to know someone so short could be as violent? Really, small dogs are the worst-"

Chuuya punched him, and Dazai fell to the floor in a heap. He giggled, kicking his feet out and flopping backwards. "I love you too!"

------

The next battle was a clusterfuck of an event.

Mineta got buried under rubble by Kirishima in the first few minutes, just after the heroes found the bomb. Now, this would be fine, but then Aoyama collapsed in a heap of glitter and cried out about tummy ache after spinning around the entire room thrice with his laser, without touching the bomb mind you. Tsuyu then proceeded to wrap Kirishima up in her tongue until the timer went, and Dazai was left hunched over laughing. Hard.

Chuuya was also laughing, and the rest of the class was giving them weid looks. Like they were crazy.

Not the first time!

"That was...so funny." CHuuya breatehd out eventually. "But I will be committing murder, that grape is dead-"

"Calm down Chibi, it's our turn."

------

Dazai entered the building like he always did. Silent, but not clearly trying to mask his presence. The perfect representation of a threat, in his mind. Chuuya could be stealthy, he just didn't like to be. How fascinating.

The first floor was completely empty, oddly enough, the stairs leading up on the far end of the room. He tilted his head, leaning down and crouching as he squinted. There were faint burn marks across the entire floor, acid seeming to weaken but not destory the concrete as it settled into the holes. Dazai tapped his knuckles against it softly, perking up at the echoing.

"Chibi! They left a trap!" He chimed, standing sharply, about to take a step forward before being yanked back.

"Suicidal freak." The redhead muttered. "How are you going to get across?"

"Edges of the room. Wanna come?" Dazai smirked, eyes half lidded as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Chuuya shook his head. "Nah."

With that, the redhead walked across the ground the normal way, the slight pep to his step the only sign of the adjusted gravity. Dazai clicked his tongue, sliding to the side and stepping along carefully. His footsteps were still silent, and he tested to ground before walking over it, getting to the stairs pretty fast.

Chuuya was waiting on the bottom step, adjusting his shirt collar.

"Come on, Slug! Top floor we go!" Dazai sang, sprinting up. Chuuya followed his fast walking pace, and he smiled to himself. He liked things like this. Pretending it mattered was interesting, at least, however half done it was.

It only took about a minute to get to the top, Dazai had memorised the pathways during the other matches, and he grinned at the sight of the bomb in front of him. Ashido and Koda were both in there, Koda looking nervous and fidgety while Ashido grinned.

"Hi!" She called out, leaning on her toes and grinning. Her eyes looked odd, almost opalescent, adn Dazai ignored the thought about how they worked. Later. Instead he turned around, went to wall to the side of the entrance, and sat down.

"Huh? We're supposed to fight-" Before she could finish, Chuuya politely shot a rock at her. She screamed in shock, flinching back and throwing acid just past the stone.

Chuuya glared at Dazai, but shoved his hands in his pockets and raised an eyebrow before shooting towards the 'bomb'. He touched it before either of their opponents could do all that much, and then turned around back to Dazai. "You fucking-"

"Attention! PLease come back for your perfomrance review!" All Might's grating voice echoed around the space, and Dazai shot upward with a smirk.

"Off we go!"

The walk back was awkward, t say the least. The villain team was subdued and blinking, while Chuuya shouted back and forth at Dazai. WHen they entered the camera room, they were instructed to sit and watch the other matches as they weren't injured once the review was over.

"Who can tell me who did the best in this round?"

Yaoyorozu raised her hand nervously. "I think Chuuya. He did the most work, after all, and was most successful. Without him, Dazai couldn't have won, so-"

"Shut up." Chuuya hissed suddenly, voice almost a growl. Dazai grinned, draping himself over his partner and rocking them both back and forth despite the ginger's protests. "The fish is an asshole, but he is perfectly capable of beating you alone. He's just lazy."

"So mean!" Dazai whined, huffing. "Here I thought you loved me!"

"In your dreams and my nightmares. Who would love a suicidal fish?"

"You!"

Before the argument could continue, All Might interrupted by clearing his throat. "Yes, Yaoyorozu, Chuuya did the best. Although Young Dazai could've won on his own, young Chuuya was an asset."

Before someone could blow a fuse (Chibi), Dazai tugged his partner to the back of the room and huffed. "It's fine, you eotisical-"

"I'm defending you, asshole."

"Well I don't need defence." Dazai snapped, before letting himself slide down against the wall and breathe out into his knees. His bandages were bothering him.

Chuuya was silent for a moment.

"That Kirishima kid says manly a lot, doesn't he?"

"Yeah."

------

The battles were okay from there. Dazai didn't watch the final two, he wasn't bothered. Once they were finally released from heroics, he darted into the changing room (boys boys boys) as quickly as possible. He got changed first, Chuuya in front of him, and then stood in front of his partner while he got dressed. Into casual clothes, because it was the end of the day and he didn't have to catch public transport, duh.

Chuuya grabbed his arm to tug him along, and Dazai didn't complain at the slight manhandling.

It was fine, even if it tugged at his bandages weirdly and he kind of wanted to hurt himself. Before they could slip from the room, though, Kaminari grabbed Dazai's shoulder. And he was elbowed back angrily, the brunette in question turning around and grabbing at the place his gun normally is instantly. Of course, he was met with empty air, and his heart rate spiked before he forced it to slow.

He realised who it was before Kaminari could notice the flash of discomfort on his face, and Chuuya quickly grasped at his sleeve harder and clicked his tongue. "Yes?"

"Oh! Sorry, I was just gonna ask why you're in casual clothes?" Kaminari looked flushed and nervous, chewing on the corner of his mouth.

Dazai cut in. "We live barely a minute away via walking. It's easier."

Technically not a lie, and Chuuya nodded in agreement. "The school uniforms are shitty anyway. And no one here has any-"

He was silenced by Dazai grabbing his neck before he could bring up the whole mafia thing. Dumb little slug. Always needing to be corrected, like a dog. Wanting to please but incapable of it, how sad.

The morbid nature of his thoughts was choking him, but he ignored it in favour of grabbing his partner and bolting. His footsteps brushed against the dirt easily, and he paced away from the courtyard outside as fast as he could. Chuuya followed silently, eventually swapping places so he was leading the brunette and-

-they were back in the apartment. Dazai hadn't noticed, he must've floated away.

"Go take the bandages off." Chuuya mumbled, shoving him towards the bathroom. Dazai nodded uncertainly in response, not fully present, as he dragged himself into the slightly grimy space. His hands shook as he simply grabbed a pair of scissors--Chuuya gave up on hiding sharp objects a while ago--and he cut away the layers of cloth. He wasn't in the mood to unwind them.

They landed in a pile at his feet, and he turned away from the mirror sharply while he grabbed them, threw them away, and pulled his shirt on, all the while refusing to glance down. He felt like there were bugs crawling under his skin, and he hated it.

His hands trembling, he wandered over to the kitchen and sat at the bench. Chuuya hummed at the sight of him, patting him on the head roughly and mumbling something. "I'm making you something with crab, don't worry Osamu."

Oh. His name. Dazai melted into the touch, flopping limp against the table and watching his partner.

Dazai always knew there was pretty and there was handsome. They're different, he likes to think. He knows he's pretty, all soft and perfect with eyelashes and waists. Chuuya is handsome, however odd it felt to admit. He had a generally sharp jawline, despite being so young, was muscular and pointy and strong. Chuuya was handsome. He was nice to watch.

...

The crab tasted good.

Dazai ended up in Chuuya's room that night, quietly shaking his head when Chuuya asked if he was safe.

He wanted to die. Or hack away his flesh. But he was hesitant, however odd it felt, so he simply stole half of Chibi's bed and curled up. Like a touch starved puppy.

Chuuya pressed his lips into Dazai's hair and hummed. It was easier to sleep in the same room as other people on missions, Dazai didn't know why they hadn't been. This was comfortable and nice and Chuuya was warm. He leant into the touch and let his eyelids slip shut with a sigh.