Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Among the endless expanse of glittering stars, the moon shines high and proud, looking down below on the mountains reaching the edge of the dark blanket of the night sky and the soil cushioning the pitter-patter of the nocturnal dwellers. The soft light casted illuminates the dew that drips on the leaves of carnations and the glistening white of a fox’s tail that’s drenched on the tip with a sticky carmine liquid.

The young white fox limps on and on through the trees, hiding in the shadows of the standing trees that cover the bloody paw prints and the running of the river will hide the whimpers from any predators nearby; the fox is awfully skinny, ribs sticking out like a mark of weakness.

There’s a lingering scent of camellias mixed in with Koshu grapes; it’s too far North to be anywhere near Yamanashi where the Koshu grapes grow, alas the white fox walks closer to the scent of meat and peaches.

Upon nearing the scent of peaches a small tent is placed a few ways away, far enough for the fox to sneak in and steal the food, but close enough that the scent of a sleeping human leaves the white creature wary.

The pitiful fox munches on the succulent peaches and lets the juices drip down the side of the mouth, ignoring the metallic taste that mixes in.

After devouring the peaches the alabaster fox turns to eat the poorly cooked rabbit skewers and lets out a displeased sound at the burned pieces in the skewer; after filling its gluttonous needs it curls up into a white translucent circle and only gives the sudden drowsiness a second thought of confusion and suspicion before finally resting and rapidly healing the wounds as the gash in its side illuminates into a faint blue, no trace of wounds are seen except the still prominent ribs and bandages wrapped around its nicked feet.

———————————————————————

The familiar warmth of the sun’s rays awaken a young man; hair created from the embers of a raging fire and skin which is calloused and hardened from countless dances and courts from violence, an affair passionate enough to scar the almost opalescent pale skin. Eyes blearily blink open and squints at the chirps of the morning calls of the birds perched nearby; the closed eyelids part to reveal a smooth, rich bark-like colour, the sunlight on the irises creates the illusion of speckled gold in them.

The man groans and places his arm back to brace himself as he sits up, there’s a slight scowl on his face at the prospect of the early morning. The man grabs his rusty coloured haori and quickly puts it on before stepping out the compact tent, barely enough to fit two people.

As soon as he sets foot on the damp grass he quickly takes out his old knife and holds it to his side; someone has disturbed his campside, the leftover skewers and poisoned peaches are gone.

Light and nimble footsteps wander to the trail of dripping blood and his eyes warily scan the premises to check if the intruder is still within the vicinity; there’s a sudden shuffling sound and he quickly rounds the corner to confront the….intruder?

Instead of finding the perpetrator there’s a white fox curled up instead; the poor creature’s ribs are sticking out and its front leg looks nicked as flecks of blood seep through the bandages. The young man kneels down to inspect the fox and realises with horror that it probably ate the poisoned peaches meant for his target tonight; he panics as he tries to wake the fox that’s peacefully sleeping?

The poison was meant to take down a grown man in under a few minutes, how did this fox survive three doses of poison; the sepia eyes narrow in suspicion but carefully retrieves spare bandages from his tent and carefully wraps the front leg of the bloodied limb, all the while the fox remains sound asleep, perhaps the poison has a sleeping pill effect instead on foxes? He doesn’t bother exploring the intricacies of fox anatomy.

The young man puts on his hat -sleek black with a ribbon laced around it-, he begins to hunt for his breakfast since last night’s skewers were stolen by an unusually white fox; he’s heard of white foxes through tales from people that want to trade with Japan down in the port of his home village, but they live way up north and he doubts a fox would travel a great distance to steal a burnt skewer and three poisoned peaches.

There’s a rustling of branches nearby and he spots a couple of rabbits feeding on the wildflowers; he crouches near them and quickly traps two in his arms, he makes quick work of killing them and brings his newly killed breakfast to his campsite.

He’s been living away in forests and hopping from town-to-town, he’s an assassin that works for the highest paying client but he has gotten exiled from the capital city. He plans to finish this last job and with the accumulated wealth he might settle down somewhere in a small north village as he waits for his body to kill him.

A few months after he presented as an omega he started becoming a lot more fatigued than usual, he chalked it up to his body adjusting to the changing anatomy of an omega but after it persisted 2 years later he found out that during the process of changing his body a mishap happened and that the body changing process had begun to kill him, something along the lines of his body being too weak to sustain the changing insides; a rare condition that occurred during a weak birth.

The physician said he would have until the sakura blooms 3 times.

3 years left.

He returns to the campsite and begins the process of skinning the rabbit and cutting it up to bite-sized pieces, he sticks it through the skewer and puts it onto the open fire, occasionally turning it.

“I wouldn’t leave if I were you, you would die with that injured paw of yours.” He turns around to find that white fox crouching, trying to leave; the ears fold down and starts bristling its tails to appear bigger.

“I'm not gonna hurt you.” He places down a skewer in the fox’s direction and waits with anticipation as the snout sniffs at the skewer, there’s a small nibble and the fox starts scarfing the skewer down; the man lets out a chuckle.

“My name is Nakahara Chuuya, yours?” He knows the fox can't answer but it's the only interaction with another being he has in a week that hasn't ended in bloodshed.

The fox lets out a yip and hesitantly starts limping towards Chuuya’s outstretched hand, sniffing at the gloves before nuzzling its head on Chuuya’s hand.

“You're acting cute to make me forget the fact that you ate my leftovers and poisoned peaches, right?” Chuuya smiles as the white fox tilts its head in confusion and feigns innocence. 

“I really should be heading into the next town, I have a guy to kill…but I suppose I have enough money for a slight delay until your paw heals.” The white tails swish back and forth in contemplation, there’s a weird eerie gaze in the fox’s eyes; it feels like it's brown eyes looking right into Chuuya, like the fox is more than what it seems.

Chuuya quickly shrugs off the feeling and begins packing his tent and half-expects the fox to scurry away while he's occupied, but he's pleasantly surprised when he feels the white fur brush his side. He continues packing his stuff while glancing at the fox once in a while, it scratches it’s ears and Chuuya realises that before he found the creature it already had bandages, was it hurt before?

“How about I take care of you for 2 weeks and then you can go back.” He offers his hand again and lets the fox sniff it before going back to grooming itself; Chuuya wraps his scarf around his neck and makes sure his hat isn’t loose before carrying his tent and heading towards the sound of a river. The curious fox trailing on his heels and occasionally barking out a sound as if to engage in conversation and Chuuya engages in this ridiculous conversation.

“So what’s your name, you never did tell me.” Chuuya crouches down as he refills his water pouch and watches the fox lapping at the running water.

There’s a squeal and Chuuya lets out a chuckle as the fox wags its tail slightly, after a few guess mostly teasing the fox’s mischievous nature such as: ‘sneaky fox’, ‘bandaged squealer’ or ‘thieving snout’; the fox started to grow irritated if the growls are any indication and turns to look away like a petulant child.

“How about mackerel?” The fox turns its head to look at Chuuya that’s sitting criss-crossed by the river bank.

“Your eyes are very big like a mackerel’s.” The fox fully turns to look at Chuuya with those little-too-big eyes of his, the world goes a little quiet as they both look at each other, gauging the other’s reaction; after an eternity the fox finally comes to Chuuya and climbs at his lap and starts sniffing at his clothes and finally yips in acceptance.

“Mackerel it is.” Chuuya scratches at the space between the fox’s ears and smiles at the delighted sound the ivory canine makes; Chuuya pats his shoulders, urging the fox to rest at his shoulders.

“I don’t wanna put unnecessary strain on your paws.” The fox stares in contemplation before quickly climbing Chuuya’s back and rests its head on Chuuya’s shoulder as its tail drapes the other side, resting its snout over Chuuya’s scent gland.

“We’re heading to a small village in about half a day away, a friend of mine can help us recuperate while I prepare for my target.” The fox lets out a small noise as it curls its tails further against Chuuya’s neck, tickling him.

As the pair trek through the forest, Chuuya spots a lone peach tree by the river; the sun has begun to set and the fox on his shoulder shifts and points its snout at the direction of the peach tree, like a compass. Chuuya has no choice but to comply, even he’s beginning to become peckish; Chuuya hops over the stones to reach the other side and gently lets the fox down and huffs when he sees the creature paw at the bark of the tree.

“You must enjoy peaches…” Chuuya mumbles but the fox barks in happiness to agree with his assumption, curious.

Chuuya climbs the tree and picks out an armful of peaches, all ripe and voluminous, the pink fuzz practically glowing under the setting sun. As soon as he touches the ground the paws begin to scratch at his hakama, no matter how big the fox makes those pitiful eyes he needs to soak the peaches in water first.

Once the peaches are thoroughly washed he lays them down alongside a napkin and swats away the mouth that tries to snap at the peaches, the god-forsaken fox lets a whine and reluctantly sits on Chuuya’s lap and paws at his chest to let the sly fox devour the peach.

“I don’t want you munching on it, what if you choke? You’re still pretty injured.” Chuuya flicks at the space between the fox’s eyes and the fox whines even louder and puts a paw over it as if Chuuya had punched the fox. Chuuya rolls his eyes and begins cutting the peach into slices and gains a sense of stillness as the scene plays out like in a novel, like a painting that hangs under the capital palace.

A lone man sitting underneath a lone peach tree as the river runs behind him in a constant noise of running water, the chirping of birds cradle the serenity of the bubble he has created; there’s a milky fox sat on the exile’s lap, eagerly waiting for the bite of the peach.

When Chuuya offers a slice he expects for the creature to snap at his fingers, but the fox only gently takes the slice out Chuuya’s hand and eats the slice off his lap and patiently waits for the next slice to come as the tail moves around and tickles his neck a little.

———————————————————————————————————

“Albatross! I’m here!” Chuuya calls out to a small pawnshop at the end of the river, it’s compact and usually is filled with weird trinkets and items Chuuya has collected over the years, Albatross seems to like it. He moves in closer to the counter and peeks over to see if Albatross is sleeping on the futon beneath the counter.

“You’re early, aren’t you supposed to be on a mission?” A man from behind comes through the sliding doors, sunlight hair braided into one side and a haori decorated with fur rests on his shoulders. Albatross runs the rivers in the area and ensures any cargo that passes by it reaches its destination safely, unless intervention is needed.

“There’s been a delay, is Doc here?” Chuuya puts his tent bag down and starts rummaging through the box for any medicinal elixirs.

“He’ll be here by the time the moon reaches its peak.” Albatross hums and starts going through Chuuya’s bag to see if he brought any new souvenirs, displeased at the sight of none he goes back behind the counter to fill out any upcoming cargo that’s coming; his eyes narrow when he spots the ivory fur on Chuuya’s shoulder.

“Is this why you didn’t bring me any trinkets? Is the fox meant to be a new pelt for my haori?” Mackerel growls and barks at Albatross while curling into Chuuya even more.

“Leave Mackerel alone, he’s just a fox.” Chuuya rolls his eyes and heads outside to scour for any ‘lost’ packages, though he hears Albatross mumbles some sort of sentence ‘he’s not just a fox…’, curious.

Chuuya wraps his scarf around his neck more, though Mackerel’s fur does a better job to warm him in the presence of the harsh indicator of the foreboding winter. He heads to a small shack behind a couple of trees and opens the door to find several dozen boxes; Albatross controls the packages that get transported near the Shinano and Tane river and it usually reaches the capital city, so more elusive and volatile items aren’t uncommon; Albatross helps ‘regulate’ the stream of imports headed south to the capital city.

“Aren’t foxes said to have an excellent sense of smell?” Chuuya picks up Mackerel from his shoulder and puts him on the floor of the shack; the piercing brown eyes almost look like the red of carnation flowers in this dim lighting.

“If you find out which package has poison in it, I’ll tell Albatross to ‘regulate’ any Shimizu Hakuto peaches from Okayama.” Mackerel immediately starts sniffing each and every box for this poison like a puppy finding a treat, it’s rather adorable and makes Chuuya chuckle.

Mackerel starts barking at a small box on top of several others and paws at Chuuya’s clothes to get his attention; Chuuya gives Mackerel a small pat on the head before reaching the for the box -almost falling over-, he thinks he hears a snickers and turns around to scold Albatross again when he's face to face with a mischievous glint in Mackerel's almost burgundy eyes.

“How can a fox look so annoying?” Chuuya grumbles and opens the box to check the content, once satisfied he heads to the small dock by the river and begins to carefully examine the vial with his gloves. 

He can see Mackerel play with the edge of the dock and swatting at fishes or lapping at the water to drink from it.

“Come here Mackerel.” Chuuya pats the space beside him and Mackerel jumps through the grass and reaches Chuuya with a slight wag in his tail.

“Do you think I should poison the tea cup or the apple?” He presents the small clay cup and the apple in front of Mackerel, he knows that a fox probably doesn't understand what's coming out his mouth now, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.

To his shock, Mackerel looks down on the items and starts inspecting them, sniffing the tea cup once and the apple twice; it befuddles Chuuya how a fox can look so human sometimes. Chuuya patiently waits for the fox’s decision and he nearly gains a migraine knowing his target's death will rely solely on the decision of his furry friend. After a while Mackerel gets up and noses his way into Chuuya’s waist to retrieve his knife and drops it in front of the apple.

“My knife? I can't, I need there to be no visible wounds.” Mackerel shakes its head and drags the hilt of the knife to the apple, again and again, mimicking the motion of cutting an apple open.

“Mackerel you're a genius!” Chuuya's eyes widen and his mouth curls into a proud smile.

“Since my knife is a generic shape, if I switch it out for the poisoned one while cutting the apple he won't notice!” Chuuya nearly falls into the river as he laughs at the sheer absurdity of a fox having a better idea than a seasoned assassin. Chuuya grabs Mackerel by the torso and kisses the ivory fur between the ears and if Chuuya was a little more aware he'd notice the way Mackerel starts covering its face with his tail and paw.

As Chuuya coats the knife in poison the little vixen watches intensely, as if to observe Chuuya’s every breath and ministration; The moon is cut in half, so the light only seeps through part of the foliage and the light from the reflection of the river is little dimmer. The soft brushes of the tail is constant and rhythmical against Chuuya’s hand; the oil lamp by his thigh encapsulates this serene moment into a radius that’s only a man and his fox.

“Albatross said you called for me?” A sickly man appears behind him, short raven hair and large eyebags that could scoop water from the river along with unusually sharp teeth that glimmer in the splotches of moonlight that get reflected.

“Could you look over Mackerel? He seems to have injured his paw.” Chuuya frowns as he carries Mackerel to Doc, he can feel the fox squirming a little as he nears the physician; Mackerel tries to slither his way out but Chuuya’s grip prevents him.

“Stay still, Doc just wants to make sure you’re alright.” Doc giggles as he motions for Chuuya to carry the difficult little creature in his arms to the small hut.

Chuuya places Mackerel on the white cloth Doc set up -the creature looks slightly uneased-, eyes darting everywhere and ears pressed against the head. Doc holds the front paw and adds a gradual pressure which earns him a bite from Mackerel which he successfully evades, he grabs the front paw again and tries bending the joint, while Mackerel clearly does not enjoy it he does not bite either.

“It’s only a sprained ankle.” Doc takes off the cotton sash and opens it reveal a collection of balms and elixirs, as he sifts through the vials and bottles the fox has hidden himself behind Chuuya.

“Seems the fox likes you.” Doc muses as he picks up a green bottle.

“I think he likes the skewers I make.” Chuuya rolls his eyes as Mackerel paws at his clothes to carry him, are foxes this needy? Once Mackerel is perched on his shoulder, Doc hands Chuuya the bottle.

“The ointment should relieve the pain, it should be safe for foxes.” Chuuya thanks him and makes his way out the hut before Doc remembers to ask him for some sick human remains to ‘experiment’ with.

“Chuuya.” Shit, what is Doc going to ask him for now? A severed hand? A heart? Legs?

“Is it comfortable letting a fox so close to your neck?” Doc’s back is turned as he packs his items, there's a strange tense tone in his voice when he said that.

“Mackerel hasn’t hurt me.”

“It’s still a wild animal.”

“I know.” Chuuya makes his way out of the hut and his eyes widen as snow falls.

He extends his hand out and tries to catch a snowflake, the glimmering specks of snow fall around him in a dance; it swirls around and some land on his hand, while some fall down to meet the grass. He hears mackerel sneeze by his neck and smiles at the sight of Mackerel's snout shaking off the snow that has compiled on the fur.

“There’s an inn nearby, let’s stay there until you’re healed, it won’t take too long.” Chuuya wraps his scarf tighter around himself; he loves the snow, but his weak body is especially susceptible to colds; Chuuya Nakahara hates the cold.

He can’t afford to be sick, he has a target to kill by the end of the week, then he’ll buy a small house in the south and live out his last moments in solitary; a tainted body like his should die alone so no one will be affected.

——————————————————————————

A appropriately sized inn appears from the canopy of the forest, warm lights seep through the paper panels as the edges of the worn wooden planks let snow pile up atop the roof and ledges; a small sign hangs under the porch, scrawled on black ink on birch planks, ‘The Old World’. There’s a small chatter as travellers from all provinces talk about all, from the worried murmurs of an upcoming war to the inconsequential conversations about winter plans.

Chuuya slides the door open to greet the inn-keeper; a tall man walks towards Chuuya with a cigar in his mouth, his face is stoned with tense lines and stagnant expression as he narrows his eyes at the newcomer. He wears simple clothing and a long oak scarf that drapes across his shoulders.

“Chuuya, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” The freezing expression on his face has warmed to greet Chuuya with a small smile.

“Iceman, how has the inn been faring?” Chuuya heads to the small bar at the side and ponders over which drink to order, Mackerel hops off his shoulder and opts to sit right in front Chuuya on the table and stretches his body while wagging their tail in front of his face…ah… Mackerel’s a boy…Chuuya quickly grabs Mackerel and brings him down to his lap.

“Sorry about him, I’m taking care of him until his paw heals.” Chuuya apologizes as he firmly keeps Mackerel in his lap while scratching his chin to keep him from disturbing customers.

“It’s okay it’s just a fox, though you should hide him, the other guests might have an issue, and the inn has been doing well; with the cold coming in people have opted to stay here rather than camp in the forest.” Iceman calls the bartender over and orders sake; he looks at the fox on Chuuya’s lap and narrows his eyes, one of his eyes has a long scar running horizontally through it.

“But I don’t think the winter will be the only thing keeping the inn in business.” Iceman sighs as he pours sake for himself and Chuuya, Mackerel comes to sniff at the small cup before settling back in Chuuya’s cup and curling into himself.

“The farmers, travellers, scholars and even some soldiers have been uneasy as of late with the threat of an upcoming war.” The two men take a sip of their sake as the liquor slips down their throat.

“War with the West? I know we’ve been on uneasy terms when it comes to trading but war is the furthest outcome from a small spat about money and trading.” There’s been some issues with the import of western goods and the people’s opinion on the impact of local businesses but both the president of the west and the emperor haven’t made moves against each other.

“Not with the west, it’s within the country.” Iceman shakes his head and sets the cup down, he looks at his gloved hands with an uneasy emotion and malleable disdain and worry.

“It’s between yokai and humans.” Chuuya stops petting Mackerel for a moment and the hand on the cup tightens around the porcelain.

There’s been unrest between the two groups for as long as the nation rose from the soil, even with the mistrust and prejudice there’s never been a conflict great as of recently enough to warrant war; perhaps the accumulated offences from both sides has been enough to snap the rope that holds the violence from raging.

Through-out the vast history and divide there’s only ever been 2 conflicts to cause war between the two: ‘Heaven’s rampage’ and ‘malevolent curse’.

The Heaven’s rampage was an era where countless Yokai had been mutilated in the name of sacrifice to the gods above, despite the devastation not once had a ‘heavenly’ intervention stopped the hunting down of Yokai; it was a faux god created by the humans to justify the massacre of countless villages full of innocents. At its worst, the tails of kitsune were used as dusters and feathers of tengu as fans, a god rose out of the spilled agony of the yokai. The god who had no name, no title, no history swept through every island and mountain to wreak tragedy on both humans and yokai, after both sides had suffered the war had ceased and they were left to lick at the wounds.

“Another war? Hadn’t the ‘malevolent curse’ ended only 27 years ago? We’re still recovering from it.” Chuuya had seen the after-math first-hand, the hushed tones when a crow passed by and the hatred in their scowls when a fox was spotted.

There was a country-wide pandemic that ran through, and no matter your age, strength or status people had fallen left and right like rain during a thunderstorm, everyone except yokai. Soon the upper echelons noticed the healthy yokai and blamed the pandemic on them, claiming curses and revenge and the common folk followed; Yokai were soon shunned from society and any talk of them became taboo and frowned upon.

Chuuya’s mother had become infected but preserved even during her pregnancy with Chuuya, unfortunately the illness had weakened her so much she became bedridden after birth and died 18 years after; there was no cure or anything and physicians expected her to die during pregnancy, to see her alive after birth was a miracle; unfortunately it also seemed the ‘curse’ had passed down to Chuuya.

“There’s been a small massacre of a county up north near Sapporo, the royal investigators say it was aosagibi.” Iceman calls in the bartender to order another bottle of sake.

“Sapporo? I thought aosagibi resided south near Chūbu? And aren’t they known for their shyness? We’ve barely heard of one in the past century and for them to suddenly massacre a whole county in the north.” Chuuya’s voice raises a little and the other patrons begin to whisper in distaste when hearing yokai talk.

“This is exactly why people are in a state of quiet panic, the out of pocket character for the yokai are scaring them into justifying violence.” Iceman shakes his head and slides over a key towards Chuuya.

“I trust you remember where the room is.” Iceman nods and leaves Chuuya at the bar to fidget with the key.

“Do you think there will be an outbreak of war, Mackerel?” Chuuya stuffs the key and carries the fix in his arms as he climbs the stairs, steps tread lightly as the chatter of clients fade into the blurry distance.

The fox had chosen to curl into himself even further as the answer to Chuuya’s question.

“I hope that you will stay safe, whether there’s a war or not.” Chuuya unlocks the door and lets Mackerel down to sniff at the futon before deciding to burrow under the quilt and start yapping at Chuuya; the barks were short and loud and Chuuya quickly ran over to Mackerel and snaps his snout shut.

“Shut it! The other guests are going to skin you if they find out a fox is hiding here!” Chuuya hisses at the fox who’s scratching at Chuuya’s hands to let him go; finally after holding Mackerel tight to stop the squirming, he goes quiet.

“You’re so troublesome…” Chuuya scoffs and goes to set his items down at the corner of the room while picking out the ointment given to by Doc, he can practically hear Mackerel’s paw clawing at the tatami mats and causing a nuisance.

“Mackerel, come here.” He pats the space beside him, and the small pitter-patter of paws grow near, soon ivory fur makes an appearance behind him.

“Paw.” Chuuya sticks out his hand and a small paw lays atop his; satisfied, Chuuya begins rubbing the ointment on the small paw as the snow falls silently beyond the window; the harsh winter has spread to the inside of the inn and has crept slowly into his bones.

“Don’t move too much through the night.” Chuuya pokes Mackerel’s nose with a smile and walks to the futon where he lays down to sleep into a dreamless night.

Chuuya Nakahara wishes he had dreamt, he sees splotches and vague unknown, cold shapes; they’re usually weird spirals that bleed impossibly whenever he gets near the shape, he hears the spiral make sounds like wet bones that slide over each other, like screams from only the most devastated; it calls him like a witch using a mother’s voice, like a deadly drop into the ocean on a cliffside. 

Every time he awakens he feels the ‘curse’ deepen beneath his sinews, so it would be surprising when for once in his life an image of a man with fox ears atop brown hair and tails that fan from his blue yukata beams through that dark disgrace.

Alas, dreams are meaningless to an assassin like him.

——————————————————————————

The first thing Chuuya notices when he wakes is the weird stuffy feeling in his mouth, is he sick already? As he tries to move he finds it incredibly difficult, usually it would take a couple days for his ‘curse’ to make him incapacitated to this extent, surely the illness couldn’t have progressed this quickly, didn’t he have 3 more years? As Chuuya struggles more that weird weight in his chest and the stuffy feeling is gone and is being replaced with a weird blunt object swatting at his cheek.

Chuuya opens his eyes to find that the weird blunt object was Mackerel’s paw prodding at his face, it seems like through the night the little vixen had placed his entire weight on Chuuya’s neck and chest.

“You nearly killed me…” Chuuya groans into the crook of his elbow as he blocks the morning rays, dying by fur suffocation would certainly be an embarrassing way to go…

He sits up and stretches his arms over his head as his almost-murderer comes to lay beside him and slumbers beneath the blanket, Chuuya rolls his eyes as the fox yawns and closes his eyes, as if to poke fun at Chuuya’s usual restless sleep.

He grabs a change of clothes and heads for the door, but he halts in his steps and steps to the window to close it and to crouch by Mackerel’s side.

“I’m going for a bath, stay here and please don’t cause trouble, I will be back to get breakfast after.” Chuuya heads back to the door and heads outside, he locks it just in case the little annoyance decides to learn how to unlock doors.

Once he reaches the bathhouse, he undresses and soaks in the warm bath to let his thoughts wander about the peculiar lapse in his dream; the kitsune in his dream was awfully blurry and nothing more than splotches of blue, brown and white; even so, it’s a welcome respite from the unrecognizable shapes that pierce through his eyes in the first few moments of consciousness in the morning.

Have I met that kitsune before? Could it be… surely not.

“Did you hear? They’re selling tanuki pelt bags, it’d be a wonderful gift for the omega I’m trying to court.” The sudden voice breaks him out of his pondering, Chuuya glances to his right to find two alphas talking in the bath beside him; they smell like a typical alpha anyways, musky and hints of whatever herb or spice that has attached to them, it’s smells bitter to Chuuya.

Chuuya sinks further into his own bath, he knows it’s futile if he’s trying to cover his own scent, he doesn’t really have any. Due to his lackluster omega traits, his scent is almost non-existent and his heats just consists of him feeling mildly feverish and horny, nothing a quick hand job in the middle of the night can’t fix as well as producing little-to-no slick is also beneficial for a quick moment of pleasure when he was on the move, left fewer things to clean, fewer things to track him with.

In a way he was probably closer to a beta than an omega, the best outcome of this illness is probably the fact that commands just felt like someone yelling at him rather than an inexplicable urge to obey unwillingly.

“Maybe an encrusted hairpin made up of oni horns.” One of the alphas continued to talk, only then did he realise the topic of the conversation, oni horns and tanuki pelts…weren’t trade of slaughtered yokai goods outlawed?

“Excuse me, but you’re buying yokai goods?” Chuuya faced them with an easy-going smile, which the alphas apparently did not like; the more built one stood up from the bath and stalked towards him.

“Yeah we are, is the beta going to report us to the royal court? Oooh we’re so scared.” He leans over to try and intimidate Chuuya, but really he’s more worried how someone’s confidence is so unfortunately disproportionate to their…manhood. 

“Quite the opposite, I’m planning to give a gift to an omega I’ve been courting for a while, hopefully she’ll finally allow us to mate.” Chuuya rubs the back of his neck to play the bashful partner.

“Oh, in that case the best place to source some is in Shizuoka.” The nameless alpha grins at Chuuya like he just spilled the secrets of the inner chambers of the palace.

“Shizuoka? So you go there often?” The only reason why Chuuya hasn’t reported them is because his target is one of the most highly-sought after yokai purgers in the nation, the alias he goes by is ‘Ace’.

“I do, but you should go there before the end of the week, the seller is going to leave and move elsewhere soon.” Chuuya curses internally, the week is ending in a few days, at most he has until tomorrow to leave if he wants to catch the target, but his mind wanders to Mackerel and his injured paw.

“Thanks for the tip.” Chuuya gives them a polite smile as he steps out the tub, water dripping from his hair and down his thighs to his feet, he grabs his towel and pats himself dry before wearing the robe.

He approaches his room and unlocks it, relieved at the sight that the troublesome fox has decided to stay put and lay on the futon patiently.

“I know your paw is injured, but… we really need to arrive in Shizuoka by the next two days.” Mackerel opens those bug-eyed void of his and swishes his tails back and forth and Chuuya scurries through-out the room to quickly pack his things and take out his clothes for the day.

“Are you leaving so soon? You just arrived.” Iceman suddenly appears behind him, Chuuya hesitates for a bit but continues stuffing his bag as heavy footsteps and the scent of an alpha becomes closer.

“Trust me, I want to stay as much as you guys do; I haven’t met the others yet; but I need to catch this guy before he flees.” He puts on his bag and picks up Mackerel from where’s digging under the dressers, he does a once-over look at Mackerel to make sure he didn’t irritate his wound.

“Shizuoka is a day away, you could leave at noon Chuuya, what about this person is so important?” Once Mackerel is content sitting on his shoulders, he looks at the ground and shifts his feet.

“He was the last person my father visited.” Iceman visibly stiffens and a loud sigh is heard as he allows Chuuya to pass him, before Chuuya could descend the stairs Iceman’s gloved hand lands on his arm.

The topic of Chuuya’s father is a well-known sensitive topic when it concerns him. Chuuya’s paternal side has worked for the royal family since before they came to power, his father was predictably an advisor for the reigning Emperor, held to standards a commoner could only dream about. His father had helped negotiate with the west and made sure the country maintained the advantage should a dispute occur.

He married Chuuya’s mother due to their family’s status and wealth, as most nobles do; maybe at some point in their marriage of convenience there might’ve bloomed a budding romance, but after the pandemic killed his mother his father’s disdain for him increased.

It’s not as if he was a good father anyway, only interacting with his one and only child if necessary, maybe that’s how he was raised.

All Chuuya knew was that his father was happy that his weak child was rid of; after framing him of a crime he didn’t do, Chuuya’s father ran with it and had him exiled, not a year will pass until he hears of his father’s passing while hearing the gossip from tea house.

Chuuya cried that night, knowing his father only through the misty telling from his mother who had only held him with a warmth a child needed, a child he still was.

“Chuuya, stay safe.” Iceman lends him his own scarf and pushes it onto his hands, Chuuya looks up and demurely nodded and by the time the other clients had come out their individual rooms, Chuuya would have probably reached the edge of the river.

The sun is slowly reaching the middle of the sky and there is still journey until the sun dips down and the sky is painted the colours of lavenders and tangerines; Mackerel’s tail acts like a second scarf and Chuuya appreciates it, especially with the coming winter months.

There’s a small empty space underneath the spottled lights below the slowly yellowing canopy, Chuuya kicks off some of the fallen leaves, he drops his bag and watches as more leaves fly from the ground and gracefully fall back on the forest floor.

He carefully sets Mackerel down and his eyebrow furrows slightly as he sees the bandages come loose on Mackerel’s tender paws.

“All you did was sit on my shoulders yet you’re still so reckless…” Chuuya blows a lock of hair away from his face as he gently readjusts the bandages, once he’s certain they won’t displace again he grabs the spare scarf Iceman gave him and wraps Mackerel around it; but it proves a challenge when the difficult fox keeps squirming and dragging the scarf away.

“I’m trying to keep you warm.” Chuuya grumbles as he soon gives up and puts the scarf around himself, on top of his own auburn scarf, in retaliation Mackerel just cuddles in on himself.

Ignoring the insufferable fox, Chuuya spreads out his blanket on the forest floor and reaches in for his packed food, and that awful fox comes trotting in and huddles in the blanket.

“If you could just admit you’re cold…” Chuuya scoffs and hands a small amount of his own food to Mackerel, foxes could supposedly eat anything, and Mackerel is quick to prove him wrong as with most things. He starts cherry picking the food and even then he only finishes a portion of his meal.

Once both were done with their meal, Chuuya flops onto the blanket and starts stroking Mackerel’s fluffy tail. There’s still some snow around them, they’re the same shade of pristine as Mackerel’s coat.

He lays on his side as the arm not trapped under his body continues smoothing out Mackerel’s peerless beauty of a coat, it’s strange that he’s no longer alone on his journeys to slaughter people, alone with a fox who probably won’t spare him a glance if he dropped dead right now, it’s so funny that Chuuya lets out a chuckle.

“Mackerel do you want to know a secret?” Chuuya inches closer and Mackerel moves to lay on Chuuya’s arm and lets the other continue petting him.

“You might…be the one who’ll see me drop dead.” Chuuya gives a reserved and pained smile and Mackerel looks at him dead in the eye, his tail starts shifting uncontrollably; sometimes Chuuya wonders how an animal can be so human.

“Mackerel I’m gonna be selfish and ask you to stay with me, just for a little while.” The hat on Chuuya’s head is laying somewhere, forgotten, unlike Chuuya’s deathly loneliness; he knows he’s not completely alone, he has the flags, he has several other friends in towns, but he wants more than that.

He wants to have someone he can shamelessly cling to, someone to hold and mold himself with, to be the one where people will always ask him where his other half is. 

Call him cliché but he wants a mate, he wants someone all to himself, someone who will unconditionally love him, someone who wants him, someone he loves, someone who is not scared of him.

He wants someone.

He wants a family, he wants to have precious children of his own, to raise it justly and with love and warmth; but this cursed illness, this cursed life, this cursed fate, he is unable to carry children of his own, and even if he could  he would leave that child alone with no father even if he could carry children.

Please, let me love someone who loves me.

It’s ironic coming from an assassin who so unmercifully takes the lives and loves of others, but letting him experience love would be too unfair for his unknown lover, who will remember him longer than they will love him.

He is not that cruel.

“Mackerel, I hope you’ll remember me.” A rueful smile graces Chuuya Nakahara as his pleas call on the gods above, whether the gods do anything…Chuuya will have to find out.

————————————————————————

The sun just dips below the horizon when Chuuya reaches the town where Ace is heard to be residing, he quickly runs into the alleyways and the places where the dirty and taboo run rampant.

He spots a small lamp with a moon marking the exterior, he ignores the disgusted stares made at him, or more accurately, Mackerel. He silently makes his way over to the small rackety door.

“I was wonderin’ when you'd come.” A sliver haired man greets Chuuya by the door with a grin.

“And you brought a little friend too, don't make me pay for his food too, might poison him.” The man throws his head back in a laugh.

“Don't think you can even if you really tried, Shirase.” Chuuya chuckled and scratches Mackerel's head with a knowing look, causing a small confused hum from Shirase before tossing the keys to Chuuya.

“Everything ya need is where you know it is.” Chuuya nods and heads downstairs and shoves a small cabinet to the side to reveal a small handle to reveal a hidden compartment.

Opening the door, there's a small vial, a neatly folded yukata -rather pricey looking too-, and a letter wrapped with twine; opening reveals the details of Ace's current location and operations.

He stuffs the vial and picks up the yukata and heads back to where Shirase is.

“Do you mind looking after Mackerel?” Chuuya gently puts down Mackerel on the counter and smooths his fur down.

“I don't mind, but if he breaks anything ya paying Chuuya.” Shirase waves him goodbye as he heads into the back and Chuuya rolls his eyes.

He heads into the small storage closet leaving Mackerel alone, he starts sniffing around and jumping and exploring the small pawnshop. Every time footsteps close in near the entrance he hides behind the wooden cabinet holding plates and trinkets; finally the closet opens and the fox climbs back up the counter like he never moved.

Chuuya comes out with a dark blue Yukata, the colour of the sky at midnight, the barely blue hue in the dark vastness lit up by stars, the ever-present hat is still there however his auburn hair is combed to the side.

“How do I look?” The fox and the man stare at each other for a while.

“Nevermind, behave alright.” Chuuya pats the space between Mackerel’s ears before leaving.

As Chuuya exits through the door he takes one last glance at Mackerel, Chuuya’s eyes narrow minutely when he sees the ear twitch and the tail swish; Chuuya scoffs, there’s no way that fox is going to behave.

The door closes and a minute passes by, and another, and another, Shirase finally returns to the front room and watches as the still, silent, snowy fox stares at the door, even the whiskers don't twitch, even the fur doesn't sway with the breeze from the crooked window. The clouds part way for the moonlight to create a faux staircase like light on the back fur of the fox, the fox finally moves and it moves fast, jumping at ledges and shelves, cabinets and light fixtures towards the light.

At the window's edge Shirase cautiously watches as the fox observes the outside view full of creaky wooden buildings and the scent of sin, he watches as the fox looks back inside, at him, he watches as the gleam of golden swirl around the eyes like a koi fish, he watches as red markings appear like paint on oil paper, he watches the small smirk as the fox jumps away.

What- Who the hell did Chuuya meet?

Chuuya is poised, graceful, elegant; he was brought up in a noble household, his mother's pride resided in how well she raised him and he will honour her with grace.

He knocks once, twice, thrice on the ornate doors lined with gold accents and tiny carvings of subtle power. He is not nervous, he has done infiltrations before, this isn’t new, but his hand shakes, trembles and his heart yells as he the doors of unjustified grandeur open like a snake’s mouth, inviting Chuuya in like a man lost at sea, he steps in with practiced and feigned confidence.

“Young Mr.Nakahara, my lord has been expecting you.” A younger man with duller lively eyes greets him by the entrance; to the untrained eye it looks like the kimono and the hakama are items of luxury but Chuuya knows otherwise, the frayed edges and the shineless embroidery that doesn’t quite reflect the moonlight.

Chuuya gives a polite nod to the red-haired servant, there’s nothing much to note about him except the strip of leather around his neck, fastened with a jewel that surely no regular common-folk can access unless it was a gift or a novelty of some sort.

Chuuya follows this boy through the winding corridors that leak of corruption and tragedy, he ignores the shrill screams of terror and the boisterous laughs that come from the same room.

At the end of the many hallways is a sliding door guarded with these people holding swords taller than their sense and faces harder than the rocks at the end of a raging river; behind them, the door hisses open with frail anticipation as the silhouette of a man wearing a flamboyant silk Kimoni, the black draping sleeves moving with the gentle wind and embroidery putting most craftsmanship in permanent envy.

The man turns around with a wicked smile and eyes that promise deceit. Ace, the disgraced advisor from the previous emperor, Chuuya halts his thoughts about superiority when he sees Ace, because their one in the same, both exiled by the ones they trusted most.

“I was wondering when you would bite the bait.” Chuuya steps in with caution, crossing the doorframe and into the room where his father was last documented to be in; as he sits down on the cushion the young red-head follows in, softly closing the door. Chuuya sits directly in front of Ace, staring at the tea arrangement in front of him and the apple sliced into thin pieces in front of him.

“Go ahead, I’ve been highly seeking your humble visitation.” Ace taps his closed fan on the rim of his tea cup, the young servant diligently picks up the teapot and pours him and Chuuya a cup, Chuuya remains still as he watches the clouds cover the moon from the window, the only source of light he has now are the lamps burning in the background.

“I am honoured that my presence is of such high regard to you.” Chuuya bows, he uses this overly formal bow to hide the knife better, he curses internally because he miscalculated the scenario severely, he hadn’t expected for anyone else in the room with him; if he kills the servant first, Ace will call on those guards at the front, if he kills Ace first, the servant might scream for help and that’s less than ideal.

“What do you seek from me?” Ace places his hand lazily on the table, picking the porcelain cup before guzzling the tea down instantly.

“Why was my father here?” Chuuya picks up his own tea cup and stares at the reflection of his fingers on the surface of the tea; the umami flavour of the gyokuro hits him first before mellowing into a sweet buttery taste, Chuuya puts the tea down after one sip.

“I was the one who invited your father over for a cha yoriai, but he remained ever humble and turned it down.” Chuuya watches as the servant pours Ace another cup in which he distastefully drinks it in one go.

“Instead he called me aside for a private meeting, considering I’m still forbidden from entry due to the previous emperor, I was horribly curious as to why a high-ranking official like your father would want to willingly concern himself with an exile.” Ace sighs as he taps his closed folding fan on his chin, his growing smile pairing well with the mawkish expression on Ace’s face.

“It’s a tad bit hilarious that your father sought me out, yet left his only child with nothing.” Ace chuckles with his teeth catching on to the moonlight wearily.

Chuuya bites his tongue and holds his tea cup a little too hard as he takes another demure sip.

“I’ve made my peace with my father’s abandonment of me, I only seek his last conversation.” It’s a half lie but Chuuya isn’t too sure that’s the other half is the truth; he does not ache for his own father the way kids do when one of their parents leave in whichever way most do, how can he miss a memory that never belonged to him.

“To begin…it’s better if we converse in private.” Ace turns to look at the young servant with absolute boredom in his eyes, “Karma, die.”

The jewel on Karma’s leather glows a dazzling red, bright and brilliant as it shatters like a miniature firework, disfiguring Karma’s neck violently, skin twisting and burning until the room burns of over-cooked meat; blood piles and piles and piles onto the straw tatami mats, surely staining it red for a while.

Chuuya stares quietly at the lifeless eyes that’s still streaming tears from the corner of Karma’s face, the way the face is still contorted in horror and fear and acceptance. Chuuya looks at Ace who’s covering his face with the open fan, the fan that’s dripping blood from the wooden spines.

“Sorry about that meddlesome thing, I’d opt for a cleaner death but finding the solution is a pain and I already paid a hefty sum for those jewels.” Ace haphazardly throws the sullied fan away to the side as he stands up to close the window.

“I’m surprised you didn’t scream or flinch.” Ace comments as he makes his way back to the table, like there isn’t a fresh dead body beside them, like the stench of iron doesn’t waft through the air like an omen.

Chuuya shouldn’t object, what does he know of life when his hands were drenched in curses from the moment he came into this world.

“I had to survive one way or another.” Chuuya stares at the cup that’s slightly stained red from the blood, he looks down at his own robes and spots a small patch of blood and several droplets that cling onto the fabric, he laments having to wash it.

“Hah! Don’t we all!” Ace’s cackles spread through the whole room so that Chuuya can hear the closet rattling behind him.

“Back to the subject, your father came to me for a very weird reason, I don’t remember exactly since it was several years ago but he came searching for a ‘god’.” Chuuya clenches his fists, painfully aware of how the knife in his sleeve is poking him.

“Since I was the information keeper during the previous reign it was reasonable why he sought me out, but this god he talked about is very peculiar, maybe if I prayed to Benzaiten more often, I’d know.” Ace shrugs as he pours himself another cup of gyokuro, frowning at how little is left.

“He described this god as chaotic so first I assumed maybe it was Fujin, but he continued to insist on the vengeful and malevolent way the god operates, how corruption was the only way to describe it properly.” Ace's lips go thin as he thinks back on the conversation, an everlasting puzzle.

“When I asked if he knew the name so I could dig a little deeper, he did the most strange thing.” Ace opens the teapot and lets out a sigh of visible disappointment as he sees the soggy grass mushed together at the bottom of the pot.

“Do you want to hazard a guess?” Ace glances at him with bored eyes and an amused smile, his white hair cutting through his face like a blade as a strand drapes over his eye.

“I'd rather not.” Chuuya observes how the tea goes evenly red as the blood from Karma’s death swirled gently into his tea.

It's a shame, he hadn't had gyokuro in a while, the umami scent that reminds him of his mother's room where she laid for the rest of her life; he's long associated this mainly savoury tea with his mother's weakening smile as the clutches of death curl around his mother like she did around him during late nights, where they were sick together.

“You're no fun at all.” Ace comments.

“Just…tell me, I already wasted my evening with the likes of you.” Chuuya scoffs, if it was in his power he wouldn’t entertain the likes of Ace in any way, shape or form.

“You forget that I know most of your family secrets, I suggest you treat me kindly.” Ace stands up with misplaced arrogance as his trails around him, his pheromones oozing all slimy and nauseating; even if he can’t truly smell it to its true potency, it still clogs in his nose far too stuffy.

“Your father could only manage a single syllable before he started throwing up blood of copious amounts, he had quickly tried to cover his neck but I saw the red tendrils wrap around it before disappearing just as quick.” Ace puts his palm against the closet behind him and taps in succession as he recalls the memory.

“When I inquired about this he dismissed me and left the building, not even bothering to hide his identity, the next day he died.” Ace returns to his seat, using his feet to kick Karma’s arm out of the way.

“You have no respect for the dead, no wonder you were exiled.” Chuuya stands up and uses his fingers to extinguish the small candle beside him; the knife in his sleeve feels a little more solid as he creeps closer behind Ace.

“What do you know of death? The sheltered aristocratic heir knows little of the work of Shinigami.” Ace sneers back at him as he turns his head around with an annoyed glare and a frown of disdain.

“I know how death works more than soldiers on the battlefield.” Chuuya stands his ground as he feels the familiar grasp of his illness grip at his heart in that same suffocating way he saw his mother drift from him; he sees the world as it blurs faster.

“How are you so sure of your conviction?” Ace’s single eyebrow raise challenges him.

“Soldiers die for honour, it’s the only mutual understanding in any battlefield, honour disguised as cowardice from those who send them to death, those like you.” Chuuya’s eyes gleam with irises full of scorn; lips shaping into a disproving frown.

Ace was exiled, everyone knows that but that’s all everyone knows, the great informant of the former emperor suddenly kicked out of the golden central palace. Rumours all around said the wildest things, from treachery to unjust murder, only the inner circle knew of the true reason of why Ace was exiled and why it was concealed, Ace had sent several hundred soldiers to their death to try and infiltrate the Yokai kingdom to appease certain lucrative businesses and the reason why it was concealed was simply because it would the emperor would gain backlash.

No compensation for the affected or explanation for why Ace was just exiled, he still had his wealth he just didn’t have his title anymore.

“And what will you die for? Your father disowned you, your mother’s family basically bid her off!” Ace yells mockingly; Chuuya frustratedly stares at the loud display Ace has, the extravagant room, the suffocating smell of pheromones, the over-the-topness of it all.

Ace is right, due to his father’s role as the head of the Nakahara family, he won’t be treated as kindly if were from a lesser branch if he tries to return, he imagines his relatives fighting for that position as soon as his father drops dead; his mother lived an unjust life from beginning to end.

Chuuya’s maternal side believed that no omegas deserved a name for themselves, betas were treated as if invisible, only alphas deserved the luxury of owning themselves; so all the kids born from that wretched family never gave kids the family name until they presented.

As soon as Miharu presented as an omega, the clan elders sent her off to the Nakahara family for marriage because she was lucky enough to be the eldest daughter, she was fortunate that the Nakahara heir was kind.

He swore to himself that he would care for his own children unlike his paternal and maternal families, to prove to himself that truly loving your own child isn’t hard. He would love his family so justly that the only time he’ll have to apologize to his children is for bringing them into this world and being unable to protect them from inevitable hardships.

“I won’t die for honour, I’ll die a shameful death for my own selfish reasons.” Chuuya lunges at Ace, and slashes his neck clean.

There’s no screaming, no fighting, just a body going limp as Chuuya sets Ace’s corpse on the ground besides Karma, only in death is everyone equal.

His noise starts dripping blood and his mind starts growing duller, he reaches for his vial of medicine as he rushes to wipe his nose, scrambling to the ornate chest to have some semblance of balance, as he swallows the medicine he hears the closet rattle excessively.

He barely spares a glance before a black mass breaks open the closet doors and lunges at him while blue flames engulf this mass, spreading like a protective halo.

Now far more closer he sees a vague shape of a beak and gleaming eyes with claws that reach for him; Chuuya’s legs are still far too weak to move and his knife is useless against whatever this is.

It braces one more jump before the sound of crashing from the window distracts them both, a blue-yellow light surges past Chuuya and attacks the mass; that very same thing reveals itself to be a heron, the blue flame slowly dying out as it takes its last breath.

He looks back in the direction of the window and sees a figure in front of the open window, the tails fanning behind this man like a folding fan, pristine white in colour; The man stands tall clothed in a calm blue yukata, dark brown hair like oak just like his eyes, fox ears twitching as his gaze spots Chuuya, smile curling mischievously like the bandages that curl around his limbs and probably most of his body.

“What a predicament we found ourselves in, Chuuya.” The fox drags out the last syllable of his name like the echo of the last note of a flute.

Chuuya drags himself up using his strength, dusts off any remaining debris and walks toward the mysterious man with an equally challenging smirk.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, shitty Kitsune.” 

“The name is Dazai Osamu, pleased to finally introduce myself.” Those white tails glimmer as they sway with the moonlight reflected in the fur; the sharp mahogany eyes of the kitsune glances to the door, the sound of yelling and running growing closer.

“Are you scared of heights Chuuya?” Dazai steps one foot onto the ledge and turns back to offer his hand to Chuuya, bracing the other on the frame of the window.

“No.” The ever mischievous mackerel smirks wider as Chuuya places his hand in Dazai’s one, even gloved Chuuya can feel the weird warmth from Dazai’s hand.

He can’t dwell on that warmth any longer as Dazai pulls him out of the window with him and into the chaotic bustle of secrets and alleyways below.

When the guards finally enter they will only find three corpses and remnants of a broken window.

Chapter Text

In all brutal honesty Chuuya doesn’t know why he’s blindly trusting this kitsune as they weave through the alleys, this idiot of a yokai has his tail and ears out like it’s nothing, Chuuya’s smart enough to know that this particular kitsune is smart, but he doesn’t know why he puts the tails and ears on grand display.

 He also doesn’t know why he’s letting this kitsune drag him; drag might be an over exaggeration; Dazai is holding his wrist as they slip between buildings.

Chuuya is a well educated young man -as his mother likes to brag-, and he knows that trusting a yokai he just met is dangerous; yes, he knows he technically met him earlier this week, but Dazai was a fox; with all the unrest as yokai go haywire, he should definitely be more skeptical, but they’re on the run, so…beggars can’t be choosers

Still, it’s very weird that Chuuya is so willingly to go with this fox’s whims, this could be a trap, probably is, still…It’s just so peculiar, Dazai is a kitsune with eight tails, so he must carry a good amount of power if the way he murdered the aosagibi says anything, but Chuuya isn’t highly cautious of that, it’s the fact that Dazai is an alpha.

That alone isn’t too worrying, he had his interactions with a fair share of them -such as Iceman-, he isn’t those sheltered omegas that has been taught to fear alphas and is fearful of interacting with one outside of family.

But this shitty kitsune, what the hell is wrong with his scent!? Fuck, his pheromones are so damn potent, the alpine wood that’s been smoked, the warm spices of whiskey and the old smell of paper has all combined into one and hits Chuuya in the face -doesn’t help that he’s right behind Dazai-, he isn’t sensitive to smells so why is this so damn strong.

“Are you going into rut or something?” Chuuya uses his free hand to cover his mouth and nose, unfortunately Dazai decides to stop abruptly and Chuuya smacks into his back.

“Fuck! Warn a guy, why don’t you!” Chuuya stumbles back and stares up at Dazai’s quizzical expression that slowly turns into suspicion, those ears flattening slightly, instead of apologising, the bastard grips his wrist harder and drags him down a set of stairs before turning every which way, trying to lose Ace’s guards.

“You’re one to talk.” Dazai sneers, he looks back for a short moment to shoot a mocking smile.

“You also smell like you’re one trigger away from a heat.” Dazai manages to bark out an amused laughter, Chuuya is anything but. Him? Heat? Smelling like one? That’s out of the question, he can’t produce pheromones strong enough to be smelled within the same room during his heat. Chuuya is nowhere near his heat and he’s wearing scent blockers, so what the hell is this asshole on!?

“You’re not funny.” Chuuya deadpans as Dazai slows down, they’re in front of a closed bar, the windows boarded up. The yokai lets go of his wrist and slides the door open, when he looks back he’s even more puzzled then the last.

“Wasn’t trying to be.” Dazai raises his eyebrow and shoves him inside the pitch black room and shuts the door closed, the door glows blue before settling back to the unassuming look of a regular sliding door. Chuuya follows Dazai’s figure as he walks away from him and the overwhelming scent disappears into a more mellow and tolerable intensity, it’s still stronger than most but more bearable.

Dazai cracks open the window a little to observe the surroundings, tails sweeping the floor very subtly, ears swerving to try and pick up the footsteps of the guards. Chuuya stays still as the lantern lights pass by the oil paper of the window, the silhouettes of the guards passing by.

“Wanna explain?” Chuuya raises his eyebrow as Dazai turns his head to look at him.

“Explain?...” Dazai tilts his head before closing the small gap made in the window, he turns to walk further into the bar, turning all the candles on with the snap of his fingers.

“Yes! Explain what the hell just happened.” Chuuya exasperates as he makes his way over to the shitty yokai, getting angrier as that bastard just starts twisting through the establishment.

“I saved you and this is how you react?” The fox sighs very audibly as he opens a door to a pitch black room, and he produces a small blue flame in the palm of his hand, walking with Chuuya following close until they hit the end of the room.

“You’re a top assassin and yet…” The doors slam behind Chuuya and the single candle in the middle of the room lights on.

“You followed a shitty kitsune into a pitch black room…” That damned fox uses his index and middle finger to lift Chuuya’s chin to face him properly as he leans forward. Chuuya can see how those brown eyes swirl with gold from the reflection of the single flame and the slits in his pupil, when Dazai smiles, the teeth are a little too sharp and that overwhelming scent of his surrounds him again, not all at once but a gradual pressure.

“Are you that witty or perhaps just lucky?” Chuuya slaps Dazai’s hand away from his face and crosses his arms in distaste. The scent disappears again.

“What I am is wondering how the hell you knew I was gonna be in danger.” Chuuya taps his fingers along his arm as he sees the smile widen a little more and grows more cautious as the bandaged bastard leans against the door.

“Because I need you.” Dazai mimics the way Chuuya crosses his arms as his tails fan out to create some sort of sick halo; Chuuya grips his arms a little tighter to calm his heart.

“For…?” Chuuya raises one eyebrow and Dazai mimics him again.

Dazai walks over to Chuuya and one of his pesky tails wriggle its way to wrap around Chuuya’s body while another starts to play with his neck area, shivering as they pass by his scent gland; Dazai leans over close enough that their breaths mingle.

“Would you believe me if I said that it’s because we’re fated?” Dazai smiles and this time there’s a weird uncertainty to it.

“No.” Chuuya crosses his arms tighter and Dazai doubles over in laughter, covering his face with his hand as he holds onto the wall for support; Chuuya furrows his brows in confusion and finally the yokai stands up straight while still covering his mouth.

“I was right to choose you.” Dazai shakes his head in relief and holds his chin and tilts his head to observe Chuuya; with his arms crossed and pissed off face, those warm ochre eyes and nasty scowl, the hilariously short stature and the hair that burns like a campfire in winter; Dazai smiles wider.

“Excuse me?” Even Chuuya’s bewildered face is just so entertaining, Dazai pats himself on the back for his choice in an unwilling companion in this journey.

“Well I can’t save the country alone! That’s why I chose you!” Dazai claps cheerily to try and hype whatever this is.

“Save the country!?” Chuuya stumbles backwards in shock as Dazai just smiles.

“Well, not yet, we need to investigate the massacre by the aosagibi, then find out why yokai are going haywire, then-”

“We!?” Chuuya interrupts with eyes wide and mouth wider, this human really is so entertaining. “I’ve never agreed to this!”

Dazai tilts his head again and sighs in disappointment like this agreement was anything close to being mutual, as far as Chuuya is concerned the fox he was taking care of the past few days just saved him and asked him to help save the entire country.

Chuuya can’t even save himself.

“Well you have two choices, leave or…come with me.” Dazai shrugs as his ears twitch lazily.

“Why would I ever choose to go with you!?” Chuuya yells out of confusion because what the fuck is going on; the thought of saving the country when all he ever did is live in seclusion, get exiled and kill people for dirty money.

“Because I have a full list of all your crimes with sufficient evidence and I can easily give it to the royal investigators and you’ll probably be executed by the end of next week!” Dazai says with a disturbingly cheery voice, even his tails are swishing in excitement.

“How did you-?!” Chuuya walks over to Dazai with rage and fear in his steps and Dazai doesn’t flinch as Chuuya yanks the collar of his blue yukata.

“I’m a member of the Yokai Kingdom’s own royal committee, I have my ways.” Dazai smirks as he looks down at Chuuya’s flushed face from rage.

“Why me?” Chuuya’s grip on Dazai’s yukata grows tighter as he grits out the question.

“Nakahara Chuuya, the heir to the prestigious Nakahara clan…before he was exiled for the murder of his own mother, no family to take you in, you must be desperate.” Dazai’s shit eating smirk is the last thing Chuuya sees before his vision contorts into rage and grief and punches Dazai straight in the cheek, knocking him down.

“You’re one to talk, you’re the runaway advisor of the royal palace after killing the Emperor’s child.” Dazai lifts his head and there’s blood from where his lip split, those brown eyes grow empty but the smile grows wide.

“So you’ll join me?” Dazai stands up and wipes the blood from his cheek, a bruise quickly forming.

“Like you ever gave me a choice.” Chuuya snarls in Dazai’s direction, he harshly opens the door and slams it shut, uncaring for what the Kitsune thinks about being left alone.

Chuuya explores the bar, it’s definitely an old one, it doesn't look like it’s been used in years, maybe decades; He checks the storage, maybe he can drink this off, maybe it’s a side effect of the medication, he’s been taking stronger ones.

Chuuya crouches to slide open the cabinet and he smiles as he sees multiple sake bottles and some wine bottles here and there; if they haven’t been opened and the bar is truly old then he might’ve found a treasure, maybe he could give some to Lippman or Pianoman, they’ve been busy in the capital.

He takes one, and smells the fruity aroma from it, from the way that the savoury scent is still strong that means it hasn’t been opened. As he stands up he’s face to face with the asshole yokai that still has a shit eating grin, except there’s a patch on his cheek from where he hit him.

“Fuck! Do you ever warn anyone!?” Chuuya jumps back like a cat seeing danger, when the fuck did the fox appear in front of him! That trickster thinks he’s so clever, makes Chuuya’s blood boil.

“If you're truly that great of an assassin shouldn’t you have noticed?” Dazai’s eyes narrow as he teases Chuuya; Chuuya’s own eyes scowl back at Dazai’s.

“I was attacked by the aosagibi, cut me some slack would ya’” Chuuya retorts, pouring himself a cup of sake, he takes the cup but before it could reach his mouth, the bastard’s hand grabs his wrist and tugs on it, causing the cup to fall and shatter

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Chuuya tried to regain control of his hand but to no avail, he knows Dazai is a strong yokai and Chuuya’s illness just relapsed again in Ace's room, he can’t win this.

“What's wrong with you, the aosagibi didn't even manage to reach you before I knocked them out.” Dazai argues back, rolling his eyes, nose scrunching in distaste; Chuuya stares in disbelief further, slamming his other hand on the table.

“Knocked them out!? You fucking killed them!” He yells at Dazai’s face, finally relieved when Dazai lets go of his hand; Chuuya glances back to Dazai who seems to be in deep thought, he notices how the tails twitch more erratically.

“I didn’t kill them.” Dazai mutters to himself, but his eyes flicker to Chuuya for a moment and back to closing his own thoughts.

“Then what was that!?” Chuuya demands, arms crossed as he awaits Dazai’s answer.

“I just sent a spell to knock them unconscious, I didn’t kill them.” Now, Chuuya’s squinting in confusion, is Chuuya remembering wrong? No, he clearly saw the glazed over and unseeing eyes, they looked pale and decaying, when Chuuya passed by the corpse it smelled foul.

A sudden clap from Dazai startles Chuuya from his thoughts, he looks up to see an anticipating and unnerving smile on the fox.

“Guess we’re going corpse hunting tomorrow!” Chuuya’s face drops into a horrified look alongside a side of disgust and disbelief; he wants to refute, to say no but he has no choice if he wants to keep his life.

“Can’t you do it by yourself?” Chuuya asks, face hesitant, he doesn’t want to spend the day finding the corpse of a heron that’s probably already discarded.

“I could…but having an assistant makes everything easier.” Chuuya throws the remains of the shattered cup at Dazai’s face, unfortunately the yokai is able to dodge easily, the shards embed themselves in the wall behind him, Dazai turns around and lets out a low whistle.

“Nice aim, you live up to your rumours.” Dazai flashes Chuuya a cheeky smile and gives an approving nod, that troublesome smile grows as Chuuya pulls out his knife and points it at Dazai.

“First of all, I am not your assistant.” Chuuya hisses out with visible annoyance, pointing the knife closer to Dazai’s neck.

“Second, why the hell did you choose me?!” Chuuya’s brown eyes darken with suspicion as Dazai remains unbothered with the knife at his neck, there’s a strange look in Dazai’s eyes, a too-understanding look.

“A high-profile assassin that’s an exile of the head branch of one of, if not the most prestigious clan in all of the land? Why would I not?” Dazai’s finger touches the tip of the knife with unbeaten glee, the same expression aristocrats would have when they gain another business venture.

Chuuya backs away in hesitance as he fully digests what Dazai is saying to him; he’ll have to join if he doesn’t want to get executed later, there’s no arguing there, the problem is that he can’t go on without his illness being found out at some point.

His body is weaker than most, he can’t do too much strenous activities, he shouldn’t trust a kitsune that’s part of the royal committee for fuck’s sake; if this fails or if Dazai betrays him, it’ll be a lot more than public execution.

But helping the country from war, from more families and loved ones being torn apart, even if Chuuya won’t live to see the two nations become one, he’ll die easier knowing that he helped.

And he won’t lie…

This feels so exciting, far more exciting than assassin work.

Chuuya puts the knife down and stares at Dazai with a determined glint to his eyes.

“See ya’ tomorrow, partner.”

Chuuya gives Dazai a wave, not looking back at the other; he approaches the door and tugs on it gently but it won’t budge, he tries again, a little harder, but it still doesn’t work. Chuuya attempts to look back and ask the troublesome yokai for help but he feels a hand slither its way onto his neck, resting atop his scent gland, that scent slowly surrounding him again, increasing with every second.

Chuuya looks to the opposite side where the hand is, seeing Dazai’s annoying face creep beside him with a smile with too many sharp teeth and eyes that shine eerily yellow in the dimness of the bar.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dazai questions him, Chuuya remains frozen as he tries to adjust to the scent of the pheromones going fucking haywire, infiltrating his every sense.

“Home.” The fox has the nerve to laugh at him, before looking back with a sneer.

“Home? You don’t have such a thing, besides it’s dangerous with Ace’s guards still patrolling." Bastard. Chuuya tries to throw a punch towards Dazai but in his forced haze with Dazai’s ever-growing scent, he manages to throw a weak one, landing with a soft thud against Dazai’s chest; Dazai finally lets go of his neck and that infuriating scent lifts.

“Fuck you.” Chuuya shoves him away and heads deeper into the bar, dragging his hand down his face.

“The spare bedroom is at the very end of the hallway!” Dazai calls out, to which Chuuya responds with a middle finger.

Chuuya usually gets tired when his illness acts up again, he’s able to go into deep slumber for over a day when another episode occurs but tonight he feels sleepless, not in the sense where there’s a deep feeling of uneasiness that keeps one awake at night, but more like he’s been bestowed far too much energy, weird, so, so, so weird.

He has tossed and he has turned, he’s done everything he can to sleep but Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto feels especially malevolent towards tonight.

He stares at the slight smile the moon is showing him in this particularly cloudy night, he stares back at the ceiling and closes his eyes and waits and waits and waits…

The morning comes through blurry eyes and groggy expressions, the first rays of the sun spilling into Chuuya’s room like liquid gold, it does nothing but bother him because he remembers that he’s going to have to follow that shitty kitsune’s orders to go and investigate a bunch of corpses.

Chuuya lays on his back and contemplates, looking at every small texture on the ceiling, hoping if he lays still Dazai will forget him and he can flee back to Shirase. Speaking of…Chuuya momentarily glances at his body and realises that he has yet to return the yukata back to Shirase, he has also yet to wash the dried blood…maybe he’ll just toss it in the garbage later.

However the knowledge that today will be different from his usual days of searching for jobs or being handed jobs by Albatross from anonymous wealthy clients with grudges is so strange, it’s so strange that he hates that he’s anticipating what today will bring.

Chuuya’s life had been strange from beginning and to his close end, it makes for great storytelling at bars and inns, it would also make great bedtime stories for his little ones, little ones that he’ll never have. Chuuya covers his stomach sub-consciously as he stares at the ceiling

His door slides open and crashes into the frame, rattling the nearby furniture; Chuuya stares at Dazai with a scathing glare and faces a conniving grin. Dazai has no ears, no tail and he looks like any other on the street, well, maybe a tad more easier on the eyes but still as, if not, more annoying.

“The bath is prepared for you, do get ready quickly, the guards change their rotations.” Dazai waves off with a smirk as he retreats to where he came from, Chuuya covers his face with his hand and groans into it.

As Chuuya enters the bath he notices the steam floating from the tub and a towel placed near, which isn’t suspicious, what is suspicious is the lack of scent; he spent the entire night having Dazai’s scent lingering all over like using a blanket during summer, the smoked alpine wafting through the air causing him a sleepless night, he knew Dazai was trouble the second he bursted through Ace’s room.

Chuuya takes his clothes off and tentatively grazes the water's surface with his fingertips, letting a small smile slip at the temperature. He finally dips in and soaks in the warm bath, it’s been so damn long since he had a decent bath.

He rubs his limbs to get rid of the excess dirt and dead skin, as he passes the middle of his chest he feels the texture of an old scar, it didn’t heal like any normal scar did, it felt as if it was burned closed, like he was placed over an open fire; he doesn’t know how he got it, he just remembers blanking out and waking up with a painful chest and a new scar .

He runs his finger down the vertical scar and sighs, all he knows is being in incredible pain before blanking out and gaining the scar; the door opens without warning and Chuuya can’t help but to scowl at the bastard that’s waving around a set of new clothes.

“Delivery!” Dazai sings as his eyes look at Chuuya’s more than displeased face with a mocking shine to his eyes.

“Just put it on top of the towel.” Chuuya orders as he continues soaking in the bath, leaning his head on the rim of the tub.

“My my, you’re not embarrassed that I’m seeing your bare body?” Dazai stands at the entrance of the bath, covering the lower half of his face with his hand, failing to hide how his eyes light up in mischievousness.

“Not embarrassed about how shameless you are?” Chuuya bites back with a bored expression, waiting for the next bullshit Dazai might pull next; Dazai lowers his hand and stares back at him with a conflicted expression, staring while his brows furrow in contemplation of something.

“Don’t soak too long.” The fox says in a monotone voice, surprising Chuuya before Dazai shuts the door again. Chuuya stares at the dark red clothes on the table in front of him, sighing once before getting up from the bath.

Chuuya walks alongside Dazai, glancing a few times towards the other man, the sway of his hair and the bandages that curl along his limbs and neck; Dazai has been walking for a while now, passing by vendors and such, ignoring the calls of sales and promises of discounts.

Dazai walks for a little longer and reaches the food market section of the town, he turns his head to the right and to the left, discreetly sniffing the air in search of something; he can’t truly change his fox habits, Chuuya lets out an amused snort as he follows Dazai towards a stall with smoke emitting from it.

Chuuya checks the stall out to see skewers being sold, yakitori, to be specific, he waits beside Dazai’s side as the yokai orders a couple of skewers.

His mind wanders, distracted by the mundaneness of it all, the regularity and the normality; in another life, he would hold both his parents hand as they went to festivals and ate as the noise of laughter caused them to speak louder and laugh louder.

In another life, he wouldn’t be locked away in his family’s estate, dreaming about the other life; he would make friends and enjoy their presence amongst the expanding sky, he would meet a charming person and they’d fall in love and somewhere in the far future he’d die surrounded by love.

In another life, he wouldn’t be cursed to stay forever alone and be forgotten so soon after his death.

He has the flags, he has Shirase, he has many others, but they will all live longer lives and he’ll be just a moment in their lives; they’ll remember that there was a person called ‘Chuuya’ and that he died young and not much to it.

“Chuuya?” Chuuya shakes out of his thoughts and sees a skewer being presented in front of him, he looks up and sees Dazai tilting his head as he chews on his own chicken.

“What…” Chuuya moves his head further away and scrunches his nose at the skewer, staring up at Dazai to explain.

“Breakfast.” Dazai waves the yakitori closer to Chuuya’s face, a satisfied grin on his face when Chuuya reluctantly takes the skewer.

They move from the stall to somewhere with less people, Chuuya takes bite out of the skewers as if on auto-pilot, he never really had time to enjoy his meals because if he overstayed his welcome too long he might get caught, so he never really had a place to return to, inns here and there or setting up tent in the nearby woods.

“Is it good?” Dazai takes out the last piece of chicken and plays with the wooden skewer, Chuuya looks down at his half-finished yakitori and shrugs, it’s fine.

“I thought the same.” Dazai answers, as if reading his thoughts, he throws the skewer to a nearby can and continues walking through the buildings and such; as they exit another alley, Dazai throws him a glance and a smile.

“Yours is better anyway.” Chuuya stares back with subtle disbelief and finishes his own skewer, throwing it to another nearby can, looking forward as he feels Dazai’s gaze, heavy on him.

“It’s just rabbit on a skewer.” Chuuya comments, Dazai hums from where he’s beside him, not giving tell whether he agrees or not.

“I thought you said that we had to hurry because the guards would switch rotation?” Chuuya questions Dazai as they begin walking back towards Ace's house, they begin to be more secretive, hiding in the shadows and in the plain open, blending with the crowds.

Dazai looks back at him with a confused face before his signature smirk shows.

“I said that we should hurry, the guards would rotate, I never said that they were related.” The smirking yokai snickers at him, if Dazai had his tails, Chuuya would see the white fur sway playfully like the ocean waves under the full moon.

“So why did you drag me out of bed before the sun fully rose?” Chuuya’s scathing eyes examine Dazai’s teasing grin.

“To get fresh Yakitori.” Chuuya opens his mouth to chew Dazai out, but a guard passes by the entrance of the alley and Dazai slaps his hand on top of his mouth. Having Dazai’s wrist so close to his nostrils is dizzying because instead of his scent gradually increasing it hits him all at once like when they ran away in that alley.

Chuuya tries to breath through his mouth but he just tastes Dazai’s scent and it’s so much worse, he feels his canines sharpening and he promptly shuts his mouth as well, opting to suffer through the fact that all he can feel is this bastard fox in front of him, is Dazai sure he’s not in rut? Pre-rut at least?

The guard finally passes and Dazai removes his hand like Chuuya’s mouth was scalding coal; Chuuya can finally breathe peacefully, covering his face with his hands, trying to smell his own faint scent to calm himself.

“Sorry.” Dazai mumbles, looking away as he stares at the walls of Ace’s estate.

“‘s fine.” Chuuya puts his hand down, looking at his feet instead.

Dazai waits against the wall as the guards leave in order for the next rotation to occur, during the empty slot both of them quickly enter one of the side doors, quickly fleeing as the other guards go into their position.

As expected the manor is now dark and gloomy after Ace died, most of the staff are probably away except for a few guards and maids to finalise the shut down of Ace’s gambling house; with how plain they’re dressed, the other people here don’t bat an eye, thinking they’re also staff cleaning up.

Chuuya can see that at the end of the hallway to his right there’s heaps of guards on standby and people dressed in finer clothing, probably where Ace is being prepared for his funeral. They search deeper and pass by hallways until Dazai stops suddenly, Chuuya follows Dazai’s gaze to a greyish shape on the floor, long and sleek, soft and sturdy, a heron feather.

Dazai sucks in a breath and walks towards the nearest door with the sign saying ‘Shizuoka’ and slowly slides it open; the stench of rotting flesh spills out like a sludge into the hallway, Chuuya goes to cover his mouth from the odour, silently cursing as Dazai walks inside.

Inside is dimly lit, only 2 candles on opposite sides of the room lighting the space; Chuuya closes the door behind him and as his eyes adjust to the low brightness, the odour of a rotting corpse becomes the least of his concern as he sees the room full of lucrative and banned yokai goods.

Fans made up of Tengu feather, haori adorned with fox pelt and fox tail scarves, skinned tanuki just hanging on the window and so much more bodies or parts of yokai that’s been strewn about the room. Right at the center of the room is where the stench of decomposition comes from, a dead heron just laying on the table in the middle of the room.

Dazai walks into the middle of the room, conjuring a small blue flame from his palm, walking closer to the corpse and stands there. Dazai scans around the room, face growing more conflicted as the sheer size of the body parts sets in; Chuuya wonders what Dazai’s thinking, seeing the mutilated parts of other yokai in the room, some presented like a trophy, some on the floor, discarded.

Dazai leans forward, face showing no sign of emotion at all, not even as the smell of blood grows stronger with every second.

“You’re positive this aosagibi tried attacking you?” Dazai asks, eyes still concentrated on the corpse before glancing at Chuuya for an answer; Chuuya nods, soon after Ace died the closet broke open and the heron tried attacking him, he’s sure.

Chuuya looks at the lifeless body, cold when he touches the wings, stiff when he tries spreading the wings open to investigate why they suddenly dropped dead.

“How’s the smell?” Dazai’s on the other side, opening the beak in search of signs of poison; Chuuya scoffs because the smell is the only reason why he’s sure this yokai has been dead for a long time, wait.

“Awful, horrible actually, like a rotting corpse…” Chuuya nicks a small area of the wings and is confused when he sees thick blood barely dripping out the cut, he looks to Dazai for reassurance that this is weird or perhaps a yokai thing, but Dazai gives him the same look of confusion.

“That’s because it is a rotting corpse, meaning…” Dazai crosses his arms in contemplation, if the room was any quieter Chuuya is positive he would be able to hear Dazai’s thoughts.

“The aosagibi was long gone before I was attacked.” Chuuya says their joint conclusion, dropping the wing and sheathing his knife; his mind is running in circles to find out how the bird was able to lunge at him despite being dead.

“Could it be a spell?” Chuuya suggests, maybe Ace got a hold of some forbidden items, considering his former position as informant would grant him access to the treasury and stealing the more lucrative materials before getting exiled is a definitely plausible explanation for Ace.

Chuuya waits for Dazai’s input from across the table, seeing the soft glow of the blue flame illuminating Dazai’s features, the bright eyes and soft brows, the high nose and the gentle dip of the lips; Dazai stares back at him with those brown eyes and Chuuya quickly looks back down at the corpse.

“No, the spell I used is a simple knock-back spell, it couldn’t have removed any previous magic.” Spells is ruled out then, Dazai sighs and motions to try and keep looking for clues; Chuuya turns around to check the surroundings, cursing the lack of light.

A warm blue light grows brighter from behind him, Chuuya looks to his side to see the blue flame floating towards him, stopping right in front of his chest, illuminating the area like a compact ball of fireflies. Chuuya looks back up to see Dazai using his head to signal to him to take it.

“I don’t…” Chuuya looks back down at the azure ball of fire, unsure of what to do with it, he’s never really interacted with a lot of yokai abilities. Dazai holds out his own hand, gesturing at Chuuya to place his own on top; tentatively, Chuuya places his hand on top of Dazai’s, the scent of warm whiskey wrapping around him once again, does this always happen when they touch?

Dazai walks closer and guides Chuuya’s hand to cup the area below the aquamarine orb, the gentle light lowers and Dazai lets go of Chuuya’s hand, watching as the flame circle around Chuuya’s hand, slowly changing into a bright red, not like regular flames but like fresh blood or spider lilies.

Chuuya becomes mesmerised by the flame, growing more brighter and livelier like a child, the carmine glow blending with Dazai’s own blue flame to create a tender purple glow to illuminate the small area between them; as Chuuya looks at Dazai he finds that the purple that light up Dazai’s face does him well, Chuuya looks back on the red flame and smiles softly.

At this point in time Chuuya is completely oblivious to Dazai’s stare of awe, if Chuuya looked at Dazai he would’ve seen how Dazai’s own flame is swaying quite erratically.

“Thanks…” Chuuya smiles a little wider as the flame jumps around him, when he looks back at Dazai he sees Dazai looking away from him, shrugging.

“Just helping you so I can go back home and rest.” Dazai waves him off as he continues his search on the furthest end of the room from Chuuya.

Chuuya continues his search with the newfound help of his red companion. Chuuya sifts through the shelves, face cringing in distaste as he sees more exotic yokai parts, eyes, tongues, fur, he feels less guilty as sees more and more of Ace’s collection, and considering this is just from Shizuoka…

Chuuya crouches to look at the lower shelves when the light from his flame catches onto something, he reaches into the cupboard and takes out a leathery object, as he puts it in the light he feels his stomach tighten at the item.

It’s Karma’s collar, the bloodied leather and the crushed gems from what’s leftover from the explosion, he stands up to observe it better; he turns around to call attention to it when the crushed gem pieces started glowing again, Chuuya drops it on the table and Dazai turns around to check the noise when suddenly a red glow from the heron’s chest start to appear, both the glow from the gem and the heron grow brighter.

Chuuya tries to flee to get away from the inevitable explosion, a loud bang erupts from the room, Chuuya crouches and tries to cover his ears but he was a little too close and now his ears are ringing and the smell of blood and burnt flesh is too much.

Chuuya feels his arms getting tugged on, he looks up and sees Dazai’s hurried face saying something, but his ears are still ringing; Dazai looks at the direction of the door then at the window before dragging Chuuya by the arms; everything is so hazy, Chuuya can feel the urge to run, but he can’t because of this damn illness.

Chuuya blinks and suddenly it’s all dark, but he’s awake and aware, there’s muffled talking from somewhere and he can smell Dazai nearby, he can also feel someone holding his head up from because he feels himself drooping down from where he’s sitting down.

Suddenly a familiar blue light finally allows him to see what the hell is going on, when he finally as his vision back he sees Dazai’s face staring back at him with a soft yellow tint to his eyes, both of his hands holding his head and a confused face, maybe it’s because everything is so blurry but is Dazai worried? As if..

“Da-” One of Dazai’s hand quickly move to cover his mouth, Chuuya’s too much in a daze to protest; Dazai moves forward to get closer to Chuuya, the other hand cupping the back of his hand as he feels Dazai’s head move beside him.

“The guards are right outside, stay quiet.” Dazai whispers in his ear, Chuuya shifts his gaze to the small slit beside him and he realises that they’re in a closet, he nods, biting his tongue to not fall unconscious right now, breathing heavily through his mouth, he’s surprised that Dazai’s pheromones isn’t as strong even as Dazai’s hand is literally on his mouth, maybe it’s because he’s on the verge of collapse but…

Dazai finally leans back and takes his hand off of him and Chuuya’s left to stabilise himself against the wooden walls of the closet; he must look so weak and pitiful right now, he fists his hands as he tries to bite down on the frustration that’s trying to throw up.

He feels sorry for Dazai, for choosing such a weak partner with a deformed body, he’s a shameful excuse for a human being, he couldn’t even keep his family together, he only brings dishonour the more he lives. Perhaps his father was right about him being nothing more than a disdainful regret.

“Are you unable to bring any grain of honour to this family? Is your only purpose being the Nakahara clan’s disdainful regret?” Chuuya only stared at his knees and how his fists curled into his robes, feeling the tears well up, wanting to call for his mom that’s still sick and bedridden, she’s been sleeping for a week now.

“I’m sorry…I’ll-” His father leaves and shuts the door closed, not bothering to let Chuuya finish his sentence, he’s sixteen and shaking.

“Chuuya?” Chuuya finally looks up and sees Dazai’s furrowed brow, a mix of confusion and urgency, Dazai’s hand reaches out to Chuuya’s face, Chuuya backs up further against the wall of the closet and he can feel something wet roll down his lips, not this again…

Chuuya wipes his hand under his nose and feels a sense of annoyance at the sight of blood, a nose bleed now? Seriously?

Chuuya wipes his face clean with his robes and buries his face in knees, gritting his teeth to hide his embarrassment.

“Sorry…” Chuuya whispers, barely audible.

“Don’t be.” Chuuya holds himself a little tighter as he waits for the guards to leave.

The guards finally retreats and Dazai opens the door slightly to check the surroundings, looking around through the small gap in the closet doors; deeming it safe, Dazai opens the closet door fully and walks out, glancing back at Chuuya who’s holding onto the doors for balance as he continues to wipe his bloody nose.

Chuuya looks at Dazai and his back straightens more and stands up even as he bites his tongue to keep from letting out noises of pain, there’s something wrong with the Nakahara exile, no one gets this bad of a backlash from a small explosion, being disoriented for the first few moments is plausible, but struggling to stand and nose bleeding even after a while?

Dazai grips Chuuya’s arm to keep him from falling, Dazai sees how Chuuya grits his teeth then the shorter man pushes him away, staring at him in disdain, reaching for his knife as he leans against the door.

“Fuck off…” Are all aristocratic heirs this strange? Dazai wonders for a second, then he quickly switches focus to the new state of the corpse. The heron’s body is ripped open from the explosion, the skin is charred at the edges and half the flesh that got flung out is burnt from the explosion, smoke coming from the guts spread around the room.

“The collar…Karma’s collar.” Chuuya stumbles beside him, hand slamming itself on the bloodied table clumsily searching for something, turning over feathers and organs until his hand stills and pulls out a leather strap with remnants of red gems, Chuuya shoves it into his chest with his bloodied hand, making vague gestures before moving into the corner to crouch and seemingly catch his breath.

Dazai stares at the collar in his hand, specifically the red gem, his eyes look back to the heron’s chest and finds a small glint catching in the dim glow of the room; Dazai reaches into the chest and fishes out the gem, after closer inspection they seem to be the same gem.

“How did you?...” Chuuya stands up, eyes still a little hazy as he walks closer to Dazai, pointing at the gems in Dazai’s hands.

“Ace simply told Karma to die and the gem just sorta’ exploded like it did just now.” Chuuya explains, finally regaining his composure, yet still standing a little further away.

Ace is the first lead into the mystery behind the aosagibi massacre, a rich and powerful aristocrat allegedly being behind people dying for an unknown agenda that just so happens to fear monger people, how original.

“Do you know what happened to the aosagibi after they massacred that village?” Dazai asks Chuuya, rhetorically of course.

“Since I am part of the royal committee, I had the pleasure of investigating the Sapporo massacre.” Dazai holds a part of the gem up to the light, watching how the light refracts in the blue light.

“We found at least one hundred herons all mutilated, as if they exploded from the inside…” Dazai puts the gem down, staring down at the individual heron, more a brutal victim than anything resembeling a bird; glancing at Chuuya who seems deep in his own thoughts.

“And the strangest part was that there was no trace of gems or that sort, someone had to have cleaned the evidence up.” Dazai stares at the blood on his hand, knowing that if he doesn’t clean it, it’ll dry and stay on his hands for a while.

“Sapporo can take up to 2 weeks to travel from Shizuoka, Ace has been here for the past month, he couldn’t have done it.” Chuuya shakes his head as he tries to piece together the evidence.

“Meaning…Ace either has someone working for him or they were a customer buying from Ace.” Chuuya suggests, twiddling with the fabric of his clothes as he continues to rack his brain for a clear reason why Ace is involved.

“What are these gems anyway?” Dazai looks back at the red rock on the table, trying to think of a plausible reason for the gems; spells? No, they’ve already ruled that out, what type of magic is able to do this?

A type of magic that can cause insane destruction yet rendered useless from a knock-back spell, able to be contained within an object and might have some sort of chain reaction…he’s never seen anything like this.

“How did you know that collar was going to trigger the explosion?” Dazai suddenly questions Chuuya, turning around at the other man who’s taken aback by the attention.

“I didn’t.” Chuuya recalls the memory, how Ace looked bored and the barely-there tears and barely-there smile on Karma’s face as he died.

“I wanted to look at it closer, that’s when the gem started glowing again.” Chuuya sighs as he stares at the bloodied room, grateful that he ducked under the table so no guts landed on him.

Dazai glances at the gems then around the room before landing on the corpse, then Dazai looks at him with determination, Chuuya backs away in hesitance, uneasy at whatever bullshit plan Dazai decides to come up with now.

“Guess we have to steal Ace’s records.” Dazai giggles, taking the remaining parts of the gems and stuffing it into his sleeve, grabbing Chuuya’s wrist and walking straight out the damn room.

“We’re going to get caught!” Chuuya hisses as he tries to tug his hand away again, relieved that Dazai’s pheromones don’t weigh against him like before, but now it feels stranger because he can barely smell it, maybe it’s because for the past day or so he’s been subjugated to only smelling Dazai, he shouldn’t read too into it.

“They’ll think we’re staff.” Dazai shrugs as he drags Chuuya again, Chuuya curses the illness because it makes him way too easy to shove around, granted Dazai isn’t clawing his wrist and throwing him around, if anything it’s more like hurried guidance, still!

“The blood!” Chuuya warns, hurrying his steps as he looks down at both of their bloody hands together, gross.

Dazai turns around and grabs his other hand, cupping Chuuya’s hands in his, a blue light swirl around them, Chuuya is stunned at the twinkling blue lights surround him like a snake wrapping around a branch, he doesn’t even realise he’d gotten closer to Dazai in his awe.

Dazai tugs their hands forward, until it’s the only barrier separating their bodies; Chuuya looks down and sees that their hands and clothes are clean from blood, Dazai rubs his thumb across Chuuya’s palm while smirking before letting Chuuya go and backing off, hands behind his back.

“What blood?” That dangerous smirk again with the playful eyes, Chuuya hates it.

Dazai leads him to a more secluded hallway passing all the other doors with different provinces labelled, more yokai parts, the secluded hallway has three guards and two of them are guarding the door at the end, this is probably where Ace’s records are being kept, all the evidence of his crimes are right there, only a few steps away yet Chuuya knows that simply trying to pretend to be servant won’t cut it.

He looks toward Dazai, nudging him for a plan, infuriatingly, the bastard just smiles and signals to Chuuya to follow him.

“We can’t just walk in.” Chuuya tries to warn Dazai, but Dazai does as he pleases and starts walking towards the guards, Chuuya tries to yank him back but he’s too far and already in the line of sight of the guards, this fucking guy…

Chuuya reluctantly follows suit, head down, hoping his hair covers his face and the guards don’t recognise him; Chuuya can feel the heavy stares on him and he bites his tongue as he follows Dazai, what is this idiot planning.

“You there! With the copper hair.” Chuuya sucks in a breath, and slowly reaches for his knife; he looks up to see the Dazai still walking forwards, he should’ve slit that bastard’s throat when he had the fucking chance.

Chuuya looks straight ahead and twists his head to face the guards when all of a sudden a loud explosion erupted from the hallway behind him, all the guards look around and quickly run towards the explosion, all but one at the end of the hallway, still guarding the door.

Dazai turns around and runs towards the source of the explosion, ignoring Chuuya entirely but not before his hand grazes the small of Chuuya’s back and slightly shoves Chuuya into the hallway; Chuuya’s bewildered at this until he looks at the guard in front of the door, his knife sliding down from his sleeve, the hilt touching the edge of Chuuya’s palm.

Then it hits him, he realises what Dazai wants him to do, so Chuuya stands up and calmly walks to the guard.

“I advise you to- hrgk!” Chuuya uses a cloth to cover the guard’s mouth as he slits the man’s neck, making sure it’s deep enough and clean enough to avoid any yells and struggling.

A low whistle comes from behind him, Chuuya turns around and sees Dazai approaching with a steady smile.

“Impressive.” Dazai says, it’s not praise when he says it, more like an observation made by the bastard; Chuuya opens the door and drags the body of the guard inside, making sure to avoid any furniture, once the body is successfully stored in the corner of the room, Chuuya staggers to hold himself up and looks at Dazai as sweat builds on the back of his neck.

“The explosion was your doing.” Dazai smiles at the accusation, and snaps his fingers to clean the blood on the floor.

Dazai searches through the vast collection of notebooks while Chuuya stands guard near the door’s entrance, vigilant and perhaps a little woozy; a scroll hanging on the wall catches, it’s a familiar scroll, one that only official announcements approved by the emperor are allowed to be used and displayed, it also looks familiar in another more painful way.

Chuuya walks closer to scroll, and it seems like his suspicions were right; the first line on the piece of paper is a huge announcement of Ace’s exile, and all the formalities and rules under it, as expected Ace is only exiled from the capital, no other rules just a simple ‘No permitted entry into the capital’.

Ace probably bribed the former emperor to keep his wealth and gold.

Chuuya lets go of the scroll and leans back near the door to make sure the guards don’t suddenly come in, he wonders why Ace hangs it up like a trophy, Chuuya just left his own exile scroll somewhere in Albatross’s storage, he tried burning it but…It had his mother’s name on it, the only piece of his mom that he has before he was thrown out and left with nothing.

The day that Chuuya got exiled was the day his mother’s funeral occurred, he’d been thrashing against the guards, begging to his father’s retreating figure in front his the clan’s estate to let him in to say goodbye to his mother.

…

“Father please! This pathetic son of yours is pleading with you to see his mother again!” Chuuya screams as the guards throw him against the rock pathway, scraping his hands and letting dust clog his throat; Chuuya coughs violently at the irritation, blood drips out his lips but he still crawls towards the estate.

Unfortunately the guards pick him from the ground by his armpits and restrain him once more, Chuuya glares at the guards, his arms jerking to break free from the hold of these pesky beings.

“Let go of me! I might be an exile but I am still the son of Masao Nakahara, unhand me at once-!” Chuuya spits out like it’s sizzling poison, he’s ready to kick these unruly bastards when suddenly a cough breaks the tension, he looks up and sees his father staring at him in pity as if he wasn’t the reason why Chuuya is in the predicament now.

“Cease this tantrum, did you not finish reading your exile scroll?” Chuuya’s father chides him, glancing at the discarded scroll by Chuuya’s feet, Masao’s assistant quickly picks it up and announces loudly to everyone.

“As per Masao Nakahara’s request, Chuuya Nakahara is also cut from the Nakahara clan, meaning his status as heir and any power associated with the Nakahara clan, be it wealth, social or political, that has been granted since Chuuya Nakahara’s birth is obsolete.” The assistant pauses to catch his breath as he prepares for the last sentence.

“Chuuya Nakahara is no longer officially recognised as the son of Masao Nakahara and Miharu Nakahara.”

By the time Chuuya fully understands the implications and weight of the rule, he realises he has been sitting in front of the Nakahara estate -his home- for long enough that the moon is at its high, the pebbles digging into his legs and the scroll placed in front of him, neatly wrapped.

No matter how many times he blinks the gate remains closed, no matter how many times he blinks he isn’t waking up from a dream, no matter how many times he blinks he’s still eighteen and waiting for his mom.

The only thing that does change as he blinks is how his vision grows more blurry, how wet his cheeks feel, how he continues to shake because there’s an uncontrollable agonising sound coming from his mouth, it sounds a little like a small child wailing for their mother.

…

“Chuuya?” There’s papers flapping all around his face, he shoves it away using his hand; he looks up and sees Dazai look at him, eyebrow raised and an annoyance to his frown.

“I’ve got the records that we need, we should probably leave now.” Dazai states, looking at the door behind him, eyes wary at the shifting footsteps that are nearing the door; Chuuya presses himself near the door and he can hear muffled voices growing more wary as they approach the door.

Chuuya places his index finger on his lips to tell Dazai to shut up, as he motions towards the door on the fast approaching guards, Dazai looks back and walks up to the window, it’s smaller than the last time but it should just about fit them if they go one at time; Dazai opens the window and looks back at Chuuya with a smirk.

Chuuya quietly groans as he walks over to Dazai, looking up at the window, then looking at Dazai, then back at the window; Chuuya quietly sighs and grabs on to the ledge and hoists himself up, arm straining as he squeezes past the window and landing softly on the grass below, muffling his steps.

As Chuuya stands straight to wipe off excess dirt, a sudden weight crashes onto him and he falls face-first onto the ground below; something heavy is wriggling on his back and from the groan he hears above, it’s the fucking devious freak of a yokai.

“Get off.” Chuuya wants to yell at Dazai but he’s busy bracing himself so he doesn’t eat a face full of dirt.

“Oops.” Chuuya should’ve slit the motherfucker’s throat, Dazai tosses and turns, pressing onto Chuuya uncomfortably before rolling off and getting up, annoying like a fox’s laugh in the middle of the forest. Chuuya finally sits up and the world goes off kilter for a moment.

He leans his weight on one hand as the other rubs circles into his eyes to try and soothe the migraine, gritting his teeth as a small whine passes through his lips, this fuckass illness is getting to him, he can feel himself warming up and his breathing going more laboured.

Chuuya blinks and sees Dazai waiting in front of him, arms crossed, looking down on him; not out of pity or superiority, he’s just waiting, patiently.

Chuuya stands up, eyes harden at the migraine swirling like aggressive hurricanes all over his head; he takes one step forward and stumbles forward, he manages to catch himself, he takes one breath in and one breath out; Chuuya tries another step, but is unable to.

There’s a warm weight wrapping around his middle, the hand coming to rest on his hip, the fingertips applying slightly more pressure on his body; another hand comes to wipe the stray locks that slide on his sweaty forehead, the hand that is so cool and refreshing on his skin.

Chuuya leans against cloth of some sort and the hand on his head slides down to lift his chin upwards; in his dizzying world he can only focus on Dazai’s face, calculating and assessing eyes as Chuuya realises he’s leaning on Dazai’s shoulder, the arm around his middle tightening as Chuuya struggles to remain upright.

Like this, with the sun high and above them, the sunlight casts a golden tint on Dazai’s eyes, not like the mischievous yellow of his kitsune nature, but a golden like kerria flowers on the mountain slopes; Dazai stares back and his eyes turn more mellow.

Suddenly there’s a blur of movement as Dazai moves away, taking away Chuuya’s support, but before can fall, there’s a force that pulls his arms forward so his body rests on solid plane, there’s also hands on the underside of his thighs and sliding up to the crook of his knees and before Chuuya can even make a sound, he’s being lifted upwards.

After the world stops spinning, he softly shakes his head and the situation has left him appalled because he’s currently being carried on the back of Dazai, head resting beside Dazai’s face.

“Rest, I’ll bring you back.” Dazai’s voice rings from beside him, like warm tea, it soothes Chuuya to feel the vibrations coming from Dazai’s throat; Chuuya’s head slumps forwards and he tilts his head sideways, nose right besides Dazai’s neck.

The blend of spices, the scent aged paper stacked on a desk, collecting dust and fragrant wood, smoked for incense as well as Dazai’s own musk mixed in, it wraps around Chuuya with the heat of freshly steeped tea, cutting all of his tension; sub-consciously Chuuya moves closer to chase that scent, reaching for more, allowing himself more.

“Mn, wanna go back…tired.” There’s the familiar rhythm of a chuckle, lulling Chuuya to close his eyes and give into his needs to rest, but Chuuya resists, he can’t trust this distrustful yokai, it’s dangerous, unwise, stupid, and yet…and yet.

The steady pace, the playful autumn breeze, the heat from Dazai; the migraine slowly ceases but Chuuya’s fatigue does not, Chuuya tightens his arms around Dazai’s broad shoulders and lets the realm of dreams steal his consciousness.

He does not feel danger, he does not feel rage, he does not feel fear.

He only feels Dazai.

Chapter Text

Chuuya wakes in a daze, hazy colours of darkness swirl around his eyes, it spins like an umbrella under the rain, held by a clumsy child; strangely, it’s peculiar how at ease his chest feels, always, usually whenever he would have an episode, he’d always choke on his own blood as his chest burns.

Slowly, he regains recognition in his surroundings, wooden beams and the floral themed sliding doors, he’s back in Dazai’s dingy bar or hide out, whatever, he can barely see the flower pattern on the sliding doors, too blurry.

The familiar scent of old papers waft through the air, wrapping slowly around him, he tries to breathes but he just gets a mouth full of Dazai’s pheromones, he wants to barf it out because it should be annoying and repulsive, yet his heart steadies and he doesn’t try as much to get up.

The cool patch on his burning forehead gets removed and he wants to protest because now his body feels like lead and there’s molten glass inside his head.

That coolness returns and Chuuya hums in satisfaction, there’s a similar sort of coolness wrapping around the back of his neck, the stray strands of hair that are soaked with sweat making themselves known as the coolness presses further into him.

That coolness lifts him up into a sitting position but he’s unable to keep steady as feels himself fall to the side, fortunately something is holding him up from the shoulders.

Still, he falls to the other side now, he braces for the fall but he’s cushioned by something warm, it’s bordering on uncomfortably warm but it’s keeping him upright, so he stays still, waiting to regain some strength to be able to sit up by himself.

The same coolness returns but the shape feels more defined, smooth and deft as it brushes by his lips, a more solid texture accompanying it, and this new texture feels way too cold, Chuuya shrinks back but there’s a barrier on his back stopping him from moving too much.

The more he focuses on everything going on around him the more he feels the hold on his side and the arm that’s probably holding him up.

He tries to focus more and when his vision finally decides that the world isn't abstract anymore, he looks around, he looks down and there really is a hand holding him by his side, a hand covered by bandages; he feels his eye twitch in annoyance.

When he redirects his gaze upwards he sees Dazai’s eyes boring into his, the mix of sepia and ochre blending in with the shimmering sunlight that’s reflecting of his irises, Dazai’s pupil dilating the more Chuuya stares in his eyes.

Right there, Chuuya can see himself in Dazai’s eyes, what does he look like in Dazai’s eyes?

“Drink your medicine.” Chuuya finally register the small cup in front of his mouth, it’s touching his lips yet Dazai’s fingers take up more space, fucking weirdo.

His face scrunches at the sour smell but nonetheless he opens his mouth and holds Dazai’s hand with his own to guide him to pour the medicine down his throat. It feels like fire, it feels like poison, but whatever, it’s just so he doesn’t die younger than he already will.

Slowly the migraine eases and his body doesn’t seem so feverish anymore, he watches as Dazai puts the cup down, his bottle of medicine beside him; he curses inwardly because Dazai probably snooped through his stuff, bastard.

“Thanks…” Chuuya wipes the medicine that dripped down his chin, cursing quietly at how clumsy he’s being.

Dazai separates from him and Chuuya feels ashamed at how his body leans over more to chase him, this is ridiculous. 

Dazai’s hand slips away from his side and Chuuya frowns over the loss, his hand makes its way back to brush his bangs away and the back of Dazai’s hand is placed in his forehead.

Dazai makes a displeased sound and retracts his hand to put them at his side, Chuuya raises and eyebrow as Dazai continues to stare at him, Chuuya barely is able to realise he has his tails and ears out until one of the tails his brushing around his side and curling near Chuuya’s neck

“You’re sick.” Dazai states, Chuuya rolls his eyes, great to know that the former advisor of the emperor has a brain; he can’t deal with this bastard right now, he massages his eyebrows as he feels the small pulsing sensation of a migraine.

“Gee thanks, how informative.” Chuuya rasps out, but the tail around the junction of his shoulder and neck tighten, he looks up to question Dazai but his hand gets snatched away, forcing Chuuya forward until he’s smacking into Dazai’s chest.

“I’ll ask you again, what the hell is wrong with you?” Dazai’s index and middle finger lift his chin up so Chuuya’s made to stare at Dazai’s infuriating face, he tries to free himself but the tails have them surrounded, he can barely see the room as Dazai’s eight tails surround him.

“Mind your damn business, fucking asshole.” Chuuya shoves Dazai away, but the tails tighten their hold on him forcing the both of them closer, forcing the scent of Dazai to be stronger, more dizzying; Chuuya’s eyes narrow in hostility then he sighs as he clenches his fists.

“I was born with a weak body so I get sick easily, and it got worse after I presented; basically a malfunctioning omega.” Chuuya half-expects Dazai to bark out some insult or tease, so imagine his surprise when he sees Dazai continue to stare at him, no emotion, just a plain stare, almost quizzical.

“I can’t really produce a lot of anything, pheromones, slick, a child, can’t really produce shit actually, on top of getting sick really easily.” Chuuya shrugs, it’s nothing, he’s long accepted it, he’s moved on…he has to.

Dazai hums, his tails retreating as he stands up, Chuuya follows Dazai’s figure as he looks down, ears twitching as he smirks.

“I had a feeling.” Dazai shrugs, his tail covering the lower part of his face, yet Chuuya can see how his eyes narrow as he schemes.

“When I first smelled you there was the scent of lotus ponds, freshly pressed fabric and the very vague smell of sweetened dried oranges..?” Dazai mutters the last part, not quite sure of the exact scent, Chuuya wouldn’t blame him, he can barely smell himself most days.

“Yet, there was a thin layer of medicine over it all.” Dazai’s ears twitches, and Chuuya observes as the yokai turns around to head towards the door, digging his nails into the tatami mats as Dazai’s pheromones escape him like air.

The first time they met, the troublesome fox couldn’t even keep his own scent contained and now it leaves him so easily.

“I did not earn my eight tails with my own strength.” Dazai confesses, back turned towards Chuuya, his eight swaying tails stop their dance as they stand still against the brown background of the walls surrounding them.

“I committed a heinous crime to gain the power to have eight tails.” Chuuya stares at the tails, the way it stays limp, laying on the floor, Dazai’s voice is monotone and scratchy at the edges.

“You’re telling me this for what?” Chuuya knows that kitsunes get more tails the more powerful or older they are, it’s a basic fact of kitsunes, even the most ignorant human knows.

Truth be told, Chuuya couldn’t care less about Dazai’s past, once this is over they’ll part ways and maybe Dazai will be informed of Chuuya’s death in passing when Dazai weaves through towns and cities, maybe he’ll send a flower his grave’s way and never speak of an exiled-heir turned-assassin ever again.

“You’re sick and I’ve been condemned by the heavens, aren’t we meant to be?” Chuuya can’t see his face, but he ends off with a lighthearted and vacant skeleton of a laugh; Dazai slides open the door and steps out, but he doesn’t close it, leaving Chuuya stranded and open.

Strangely, he doesn't regret joining Dazai on this journey.

He watches as the sun sets through the window, tangerine hues against the lavender sky. He has been in this position long ago, when he was much smaller, and much more dependent on his mother; they would watch the sunset by the koi pond every evening, waiting and longing.

“Mommy, look! The sky is the same colour as your hair!” The small child pointed to the fading sun on the other side of the tall walls that ‘keep them safe’ -as his father said-, little Chuuya smiles back at his mother from her lap.

“It is the same as your own as well, little sheep.” She cards her fingers through little Chuuya’s hair, the child humming a tune he heard beyond the walls of his home, once a blue moon ago.

Miharu picks little Chuuya up so he’s facing her, her blue eyes glowing brighter as little Chuuya looks back up at her; she smooths his hair down, lightly pinching his small dumpling cheeks and tapping on his scrunched up nose.

“Chuuya, the mandarin sky, no matter sunrise or sunset belongs solely to you.” Little Chuuya makes a puzzled face and tugs on his mother’s hand to ask for more clarification, instead she bends down to hug him, and little Chuuya is always happy to be close to his mother.

“When you’ve grown, my little one will understand.” 

Chuuya’s distracted by a sudden sound, when he turns around he sees Dazai returning with a bowl in one hand and a book in the other; he comes closer and as he sits down he sees that it’s a bowl of ochazuke, the fox nudges it into his hand.

“Dinner.” Chuuya nods and takes it into his hands, tasting one bite, while watching at how Dazai’s tails swivels behind him, Chuuya almost smiles.

“It’s…good.” Chuuya is not good with words but he sees as the tails sway around a little more energetically, this time Chuuya hides his smile as he takes another bite.

“While you were asleep I scoured through Ace’s record of his paying clients.” Dazai waves the record book around like a trophy, his sharp canines shining through. He flips through the book and stops at a certain page, pointing to a certain place.

Chuuya takes a closer look but the part where Dazai’s pointing at is scribbled out in two parts, the name of the client and a section of the item purchased.

Client:⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

Item purchased: ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️ Gems

Transport: To Sapporo

Amount paid: 100,500¥‎

“Do you know what this means?” Dazai says with too much mirth in his eyes, instinctually Chuuya backs away out of caution.

“We can hand this evidence to prosecute Ace even though he’s dead.” Chuuya tries, rolling his eyes as he takes another bite of the Ochazuke, but Dazai shakes his head and points his finger to the ‘gems’ on the record.

“Ace had an accomplice! Transporting 100,500-yen worth of gems to a small village in Sapporo wouldn’t go so easily under the radar.” Chuuya stares harder at the piece of paper, racking his mind, and cursing at the implications.

“This was probably an inside job by one of Ace’s agents, someone must’ve helped smuggle and store the gems on top of helping the client into murdering an entire village.” Chuuya scoffs, having to find Ace’s agent and the stupid client, even in death Ace is making him run around in circles.

“During my investigation there, we found a sole survivor, the owner of the local blacksmith.” Chuuya narrows his eyes, every other report said that all residents were murdered, now accounting Dazai’s information…fuck.

“We’re going on a trip to Sapporo!” It’s already cold enough as it is, and now they have to travel further north? Once he gets his hand on this elusive client, he’s gonna wring that bastard’s neck.

“Sapporo takes nearly two weeks!” Chuuya exclaims, eyebrows shooting up in concern, not only is it on another island they also have to avoid the capital city which can take them an extra day or two; with Chuuya’s illness they’ll have to slow down as well, causing more delay.

“What if by the time we reach there the blacksmith has already moved elsewhere!?” Chuuya grabs Dazai’s wrist, demanding for this tricky fox to reconsider the plan because Chuuya doesn’t have any magical abilities that can sustain himself.

“That won’t be too much of a problem, since I planted a tracker on her!” Dazai grabs into his sleeve and procures a folded piece of paper, he opens the paper to reveal a map of Japan, on the island of Hokkaido, a yellow light blinks on and off near the heart of Sapporo.

“She’s hiding out in the main city of Sapporo.” Chuuya reaches his hand out to trace the glow of the yellow light on the paper, tracing his index finger from the yellow light all the way down to where they are in Shizuoka.

“How exactly are we gonna get there?” Chuuya questions, because if this fucking bastard even thinks he can convince Chuuya to walk all the way and swim his way to Sapporo, he’s going to make sure Dazai won’t be alive to gain another stupid tail of his.

“A horse of course! Did you think we were going to walk all the way there?” Dazai snickers teasingly, his eyes going a little more yellow, lighting up in mischievousness. Chuuya shoves the map in his face.

Dazai falls back, rubbing his face and pouting at Chuuya like the insufferable freak he is; Chuuya has half the mind to throw the bowl of Ochazuke at him but there’s still food in it, so maybe not, maybe when he finishes the bowl.

Remnants of burnt paper flicker out of nowhere, burnt coal at the edges expand into the orange light at the edges as it materialises into a scroll tied with a green velvet ribbon, landing dully on Dazai’s head and bouncing onto the floor.

“Urgh, even Kunikida is bullying me…” Dazai groans as he takes the scroll and unties the ribbon, discarding it behind him on the tatami mats, he unfurls the scroll and carefully reads the letter as he lays on the ground, tails lazily sweeping the straw mats.

Chuuya continues to eat the ochazuke, observing how Dazai's face twitches into the familiar cheeky tease and whining frown, by the time Chuuya finished eating his lunch, Dazai also puts down the letter

Dazai finally gets up, rolls the scroll up again and the letter begins to crumble as it disappears into nothing, the debris now floating in the air; Dazai stands up and takes the empty bowl out of Chuuya’s hand.

“Hey!” Chuuya reaches for the bowl but Dazai catches his hand and leans forward with a smile full of anticipation.

“There’s more pressing matters than a bowl right now, can you stand?” Chuuya looks down, stretching his legs, he probably can’t, he usually can’t, still, he tries. Chuuya uses the fact that Dazai is holding onto him as a support to at least get on his knees.

Surprised that he’s able to do this much, he tries to stand up and he further continues to surprise himself as he feels oddly light.

Dazai slides his hand downwards until he’s interlacing his fingers with Chuuya’s, taking one step backwards, incentivising Chuuya to take another step forward to follow, which he does; when Chuuya looks at Dazai he sees a mellow look, and a toothy grin.

Dazai walks with Chuuya hand-in-hand as they leave the room and towards the exit, they make a brief stop by a counter to place the bowl down, as they near the door, his hands sub-consciously tighten and he walks a little faster next to Dazai’s side.

Dazai opens the door and Chuuya follows him out, as the sun disappears further into the horizon, Chuuya shrinks back a little, Dazai looks behind him to see Chuuya hesitating, shoulders hunched.

Dazai’s other hand reaches until it meets the middle of Chuuya’s chest, there’s a warm orange glow and Chuuya feels a gradual spread of warmth through his veins and the chilly weather outside doesn’t seem as daunting anymore.

“As long as we’re touching, the cold will not trouble you.” Chuuya mutters a thanks, walking alongside Dazai now, he feels much more at ease. He doesn’t actually know where Dazai is heading but there’s a sense of certainty in trusting the yokai.

As they walk along the street he sees an older couple, staring at them, for a moment he thinks that they recognise him but the two women smile warmly at him and giggle at each other.

‘I see that romance is still alive with the youth.’ Chuuya tries to not whip his head around to ask them what they mean, and he does, he does not manage to keep a straight face as he realises that their interlinked hands might cause an image of a couple to procure in the passerby's mind.

Chuuya loosens his hold on Dazai’s hand but in turn Dazai tightens his hand further, refusing to let go as he leads Chuuya along the boutique clothes, fine silk and cotton displayed to lure in pedestrians to admire the craftsmanship.

Dazai makes his way to the shop selling thicker cloth, more specific for the harshness of winter’s bite; the clothes are more padded with wool, colours are duller and darker to sustain the heat for longer.

“Would you prefer tanzen or hanten?” Dazai grabs the sleeve of the tanzen and brings it forward towards Chuuya for him to feel, the cloth feels more thicker than a regular kimono and the darker red can help retain the sun’s heat and hide the potential blood stain.

Chuuya looks around and sees the dark ochre hanten nearby draped near the front, it’s thicker than the tanzen and more convenient if he can’t be bothered to tie up the tanzen, but it leaves his legs more at risk for the cold weather. Chuuya furrows his eyebrows as he properly thinks about his decision.

“I prefer the hanzen for the convenience but...the tanzen is more full coverage.” He has to think carefully because with his current funds, he’ll probably only be able to afford one.

“Then we’ll get both!” Dazai exclaims and Chuuya can see from the corner of his eye that the tailor’s eyes just lit up at the prospect of a rich customer.

“As if I have the money for that.” Chuuya scolds him, gripping their interlinked hands to warn Dazai, but the fucker pulls out his coin pouch from his belt and dangles it in front of Chuuya.

“You really don’t have to…” Chuuya sighs out of concern and a little out of embarrassment because Dazai really doesn’t have to, he can pay for his own and because it’s a little humiliating for both of them because giving someone an article of clothing is considered a form of courting.

He hopes Dazai is just a little clueless of human societal expectations so he can just brush this off.

Dazai plucks the hanzen from the stand, it’s a little difficult to put it on when one of your hands are busy holding the hand of the person that’s currently blackmailing you into saving the nation.

Dazai lets go of their intertwined hands and the slithering chill of winter’s wind comes back at full power, goosebumps rising on Chuuya’s skin despite being inside, Chuuya bites his tongue to stop a full body shiver from spreading throughout.

Dazai goes behind him, raising the hanten for Chuuya to wear; he slips his hand through the sleeves, it’s warmer now, but his back is the warmest as Dazai presses against him, breath brushing past the shell of his ear as his head bends down, hands roaming and pressing at various points of his body, his waist, chest, arms, hips to check the size of the hanten.

Dazai’s hands feel like burning coal on him.

“Is the size to your liking?” Dazai's voice is on his ear, there’s no hidden tone in his question yet Chuuya worries that he will see his impossibly red ears, one hand on the shoulder opposite where Dazai’s head is and the other on his hips.

This is frightening how much mental strength Chuuya needs to hold his composure.

“Chuuya, you have to answer.” A tease from Dazai, the hand on his hip moves down to hold his hand once again, Chuuya turns his head to face Dazai head on and he really is trying to keep his shit together with how close they are, how a little too tempting Dazai’s scent is right now.

“The size is just a little too big.” Chuuya looks downwards and steps away from Dazai to shed the hanten off, he hands the hanzen and the tanzen nearby to Dazai, gesturing with his eyes to go to the tailor and sort it out.

“How soon can you alter the size on the hanten and tanzen to be just a little bit smaller, we have to make haste to leave by tomorrow midday.” The tailor takes the clothes from Dazai and examines them, face worrying into a prominent frown.

“I’m afraid that the time frame is too narrow and-” Dazai places a hefty and heavy bag of coins on the table, smile growing a little tight, if Chuuya looked closer he could probably see the tailor salivating from the smell of copper in the bag.

“It will be ready by tomorrow morning.” The tailor enthusiastically exclaims, snatching the coin pouch and clutching it behind his back, Dazai takes a piece of paper from his sleeve and hands it to the tailor.

“Deliver it to this address.” The tailor nods vigorously and waves them goodbye as the pair leave.

“I wouldn’t have minded paying for myself.” Chuuya rolls his eyes, letting out a huge breath as the outside chill shows him no mercy, he reaches for Dazai’s hand once again and sighs at the warmth surging through him, he hears Dazai chuckle but he pays it no mind.

“I did rope you into my mission, this is the least I could do.” Dazai smiles at Chuuya, it’s dark out now, yet Dazai’s eyes shine rather bright as he looks at Chuuya.

“I mean you could’ve just not roped me in the first place.” Chuuya shrugs, he’s been to Hokkaido once, and that trip was not kind, having to kill two young run away lovers because he was paid a hefty sum, he tried to warn them about how their families were hunting them, instead of going into hiding they committed a lover’s suicide.

Maybe this time will be a little less worse. 

“Mmn, I could have.” Dazai acknowledges, leading Chuuya near a stable on the outskirts of the village, Dazai shows the caretaker a token of some sort and the person sighs and walks to the very back of the stable.

After a while the caretaker comes back with a horse with cherry red coat, standing tall and imposing, tail flicking in behind like a shadow, colour like chalk; the saddle already prepared and fastened to the body, it walks forward towards them bumping its nose into Dazai’s chest.

“It has been a while.” Dazai laughs, petting the front, a star like pattern on the face; it changes its gaze towards Chuuya, staring at Chuuya with its almost noir eyes, part of the alabaster mane covering the face.

“Chuuya, this is Peaches, she’s quite the beauty.” Chuuya snorts loudly at Dazai’s introduction to his horse, Chuuya looks up and sees that both peaches and Dazai share the same exact confused expression.

“Quite the childish name.” Chuuya comments, holding his hand out, testing if the mare would tolerate his presence and gets pleasantly surprised when Peaches walks forward letting her face meet the palm of his hand.

“Can’t a guy have fun?” Dazai rolls his eyes, taking a nearby carrot and feeding it to Peaches.

“Unfortunately I couldn’t reserve another horse, so guess we’ll both be riding Peaches.” Dazai pats Peaches again, sighing as he adjusts the harness around her. He pulls Chuuya to the horse’s side, letting go of their hands briefly to climb on to the back of Peaches.

Dazai reaches a hand out to Chuuya so he could climb on as well but Chuuya hesitates to reach out.

“I’ve never ridden a horse.” Chuuya confesses, looking reluctant to climb on; Dazai grabs his hand once again, a reassuring warmth radiates from his hands and Dazai’s scent becomes more mellow, it’s calming.

“Don’t you trust me?” Chuuya takes a deep breath, hooks one foot and uses Dazai’s hand as a leverage to swing his body around to get on, he sways a bit but Dazai helps stabilise Chuuya, resting one hand on his waist from behind.

“Look at you! Even with your height you still can ride!” Chuuya elbows Dazai in the gut as retaliation.

“Does your mouth have any other purpose than being an asshole?” Chuuya hisses in annoyance, Dazai reaches forward to grab the reins, essentially surrounding Chuuya from behind; isn’t this just a shitty cliche scenario from romance novels? The only difference is that the shitty novel has an actual charming lead, while Dazai is…a curious thing.

“Shall we go back?” Chuuya nods, Dazai hums and motions for Peaches to start walking, this is a better outcome than having to walk to another island on the other side of the country, as they walk the streets, Chuuya begins to lean against Dazai’s chest; they must look like a lovesick couple, disgusting.

This is just because Dazai’s magic keeps him warm, and Chuuya would rather not have a fever right before their two week journey to Hokkaido.

Like hell he’d even consider Dazai a possible partner.

The next day arrives through the slow rise of the sun’s appearance in the horizon line far beyond the borders of this town, the sky is darker than it is light, most are asleep in their houses as winter’s breath forces people to stay in bed a little longer.

Chuuya smooths down the front of his clothes, humming in approval of the warmth of the tanzen that was just delivered; the hanzen isn’t needed right now since the cold is still bearable, however as they go further north the weather will surely be a problem.

He carries the hanzen to the bags that will be placed on the back of Peaches, Chuuya notices that he’s actually packed much lighter than he expected, it’s only a month, ideally…He shouldn’t need more.

He carries the bag outside where Dazai is adjusting the saddle to more comfortably fit two people, more layers of cloth and blankets are added so everyone involved will have a better experience on the one week journey.

“How will we cross the sea to get to Hokkaido?” Chuuya ponders as he secures the bag onto Peaches, watching the small flicks of the tail.

“My colleague prepared a boat for us when we arrive.” Dazai explains, then he hops on, extending one hand for Chuuya to hold on to again, Chuuya grabs on and settles on the front, petting the horse, seeing the ear twitch, it’s very similar to Dazai’s own mannerisms, how amusing.

Dazao grabs the reins and motions for Peaches to start moving. Now that Chuuya is more awake, he can feel the bumps from where Peaches is walking, it’s a new feeling, relying on someone else completely on a new journey with no clear end.

He’s watched his father ride his own horse, in events or coming back to residence, just the thought of having a creature to completely trust him kept Chuuya giddy back when he saw horses through the windows of his house.

Time passes and the sun is now atop them, yet the weather barely gets any warmer, they’ve left the town and now only trees and wildlife seem to span for ages, every direction all seem familiar, if they didn’t have a map, he’s sure that they would’ve gotten stranded.

Being in the wild means that Dazai can safely let out his tails and ears, it shouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the fact that those tails love to annoy him.

“Can you fucking not with your tails?” Chuuya grits out, wary of spooking the horse, every time he swats one tail away, another of one of his seven remaining tails comes to meddle with him.

“But I’m bored! I want some entertainment!” Dazai whines leaning over to Chuuya, wrapping all eight of his extraneous tails around him, Dazai giggles beside his ear as he squeezes his arms together in front of Chuuya as he holds the reins as an excuse.

Chuuya tries to shove his annoying face away but Dazai uses his frame to push them closer together, looking at him with a mischievous smile; Chuuya grabs the front of Dazai’s kimono and tightens his hold as he shoves him as far as possible.

“Entertain yourself asshole!” Dazai gives a more egregious grin in return which isn’t ideal, Chuuya can see Dazai’s arms changing position and a sudden movement causing Peaches to go from a breezy walking pace into a gallop.

“Bastard!” Chuuya yells at Dazai as he’s forced to let go how Dazai’s collar and grip onto Dazai’s arm instead if doesn’t want to fall and break his neck on the forest floor; that insufferable freak fucking laughs so loud that Chuuya is sure that several birds have fled their nest.

Dazai tightens his hold on the reins, slowing them down yet he continues to laugh at Chuuya’s reaction; letting go of one hand on the reins so the now free hand can wrap around Chuuya as he smothers the sound of his laugh against Chuuya’s back.

“You won’t be fucking laughing when I slit your throat.” Chuuya threatens, he turns around and yanks Dazai’s hair up to see the almost teary-eyed look from how much is laughing at Chuuya’s misfortune.

“I’m definitely not going to regret partnering with you.” Dazai states as he leans closer to Chuuya’s face, his scent curling around him, not unlike how his tails are, suddenly Dazai leans back and hops off the horse, hand extending to Chuuya, but Chuuya is petty and ignores him as he jumps down on his own. 

They’ve found a river to rest in, Chuuya dips the tips of his fingers in and immediately retracts from the cold, looking back he sees Dazai tying the reins on a nearby tree, he lingers by the riverside, wondering which animal to have as lunch.

“What’s gotten you thinking so hard.” Dazai wanders to his side, copying the way he’s crouching, tails fanning out and curling against Chuuya; pesky bastard.

“I’m hungry.” Chuuya blows a stray hair away from his face, turning his head toward Dazai, he hums for a while and flops onto the grass below them.

“There’s rice balls in one of the bags, go fetch them.” Dazai waves his hand as he lays on the cold grass covered in dew, Chuuya scowls but gets up nonetheless and accidentally kicks Dazai’s head as he passes to get to the bags.

He hears whining and crying, but foxes are unusually loud so he doesn’t give it a second thought; he takes one of the rice balls and walks back to where Dazai is laying down, it seems like his feet are extra clumsy because he kicks Dazai’s head again.

Instead of the usual whining he feels cold hands grab onto his ankles and yank him down, before he can hit his head on the grass something soft cushions his fall, he opens his eyes and rolls his eyes in disappointment to find Dazai’s tails below him.

He looks beside him and sees Dazai lying by his side, resting his head on the crook of his elbow, snickering at Chuua’s annoyed face.

“Why couldn’t you have chosen someone else?” Chuuya asks, annoyed with a hint of genuine curiosity .

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dazai snorts, sitting up then leaning over to where Chuuya is still laying on his tails, he places his hand on the other side of Chuuya’s torso, leaning further down to show Chuuya his shit-eating smirk and sharp teeth.

“And if I do?” Chuuya crosses his arms, holding the rice ball in one hand, tearing away a piece to eat while Dazai looks at him, probably pondering whether Chuuya’s kidney is tasty enough for the bastard.

“Then I’m sure that even someone as slow as a slug like you can find the answer soon enough.” Dazai teases Chuuya further, faces growing closer; Chuuya hates him, Chuuya hates how much his own canines itch when Dazai gets too close, he hates Dazai.

Chuuya groans and tears another piece of the rice ball, shoving it into Dazai’s mouth so he can finally shut up.

He expected Dazai retaliating against Chuuya, spitting the food out, he did not expect Dazai to freeze and actually accept the food, holding Chuuya’s hand as he feeds himself out of Chuuya’s hand, even licking the tips of Chuuya’s finger once he had his fill.

Chuuya shoves his face away and rolls over to get away from the yokai, Chuuya scrunches his clothes using the hand Dazai ate out of, despite the cold, his cheeks feel awfully warm.

“We should get going.” Chuuya states, finishing the last of the rice ball; he goes up to Peaches and hoists himself on, it’s a little harder now but he manages, he watches and waits for Dazai to finish one last check before he also mounts Peaches.

It’s been a few days and their routine has been quite repetitive, not that Chuuya minds too much; they stop to let Peaches rest and stretch, ideally by a nearby village but the forest itself isn’t too bad, then they find a place to sleep, usually they stop at inns but the caves aren’t half bad either.

Currently Chuuya is trying to sleep but something is tickling his neck, he makes a distressed noise but that weird ticklish feeling is still there, he begrudgingly opens his eyes and sighs, of course it’s Dazai messing with him again.

“Bother me when we reach our stop, why don’t ya.” Chuuya grumbles, but the tails continue to pester him, he has half a mind to pinch Dazai until he feels a wet sensation on his nose.

He opens his eyes again and in front of him is white specks falling, snow settling itself on the grass, trees, Peaches mane, all around him, he feels miserable.

He wants to reach for his hanten but it’s all the way in the bags and it’ll be a hassle, he crosses his arms tighter to try and stop heat from escaping when the snow will fully surround them.

Suddenly Dazai’s tails wrap around him, dragging him backwards until he’s settled against Dazai’s back, it’s still as warm as it felt when they were in the tailor shop, all around he can feel the fur shifting around him, spreading Dazai’s scent all around him.

Chuuya isn’t too familiar with kitsune anatomy aside from Lippmann and Pianoman, even then, they mostly use their human forms; does this count as scenting? Whatever Dazai is doing is lulling him back to sleep.

It’s totally unfair how damn warm and comfortable Dazai is, so fucking unfair because he’s falling asleep and he can feel the tails wrap more securely around him, and it’s so damn nice being surrounded like this…

“Rest, Partner.”

By the time they’ve reached the port, it’s time for them to part ways with Peaches, which is a shame, Chuuya grew to care for the horse, but transporting a horse on a boat is more trouble than it’s worth.

Chuuya carries the bag to the boat while Dazai negotiates with the captain on the boat, Chuuya puts down the bags and raises his eyebrow as Dazai comes closer.

“Part of the royal yokai committee yet ya couldn’t get a better boat?” Chuuya teases, enjoying the way Dazai’s mouth minutely twitches into a frown.

“My colleague is particular when it comes to these things.” Dazai rolls his eyes, opting to look out to the sea as their boat begins to move, arms crossed like a petulant child.

“So you annoyed them too much?” It’s a shot in the dark as Chuuya grins, staring at Dazai’s frustrated form, snickering at the way Dazai scowls further, now turning his head the other way to not look at Chuuya, petty bastard.

“I’m not sharing committee secrets with you.” Dazai cements his stance while Chuuya continues to laugh at the poor yokai, he definitely pissed someone off.

“Aww poor baby, facing the consequences of his actions.” Chuuya teases Dazai, making exaggerated laughing noises just to get a rise out of Dazai, enjoying the away Dazai crosses his arms tighter; Chuuya’s sure that if Dazai had his tails out it would be thumping against the boat in displeasure.

Chuuya wonders, having eight tails means that Dazai lived a long life so far, at least 200 years or so, Lippmann says that on average if a kitsune continuously maintains and trains their magic, they usually gain a new tail every quarter of a century or so.

“How old are you?” Chuuya asks the still-upset Dazai, he turns around with a performed pout directed at Chuuya.

“What a rude question to ask!” Dazai exclaims, sighing dramatically like a great melancholy has been bestowed upon him.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Chuuya scoffs, returning to lean against the boat railing, overlooking the frigid sea between Honshu and Hokkaido, frowning at the minute sea spray that is far too cold for his liking.

“Twenty-seven, same as you.” Chuuya snorts, yeah right, Dazai is just messing with him right now.

“You’re a horrible liar.” Dazai hums, gaze far away, watching as the island of Honshu grows smaller, it’ll take around a day for the boat to reach the coast of Hokkaido.

“You’re right, I’m actually a hundred and twenty seven years old.” Dazai reaches out from the boat to catch the falling snowflakes, using his magic to sway them to Chuuya’s side, effectively annoying him as Chuuya swats the snowflakes away.

Chuuya shoves Dazai away playfully, much more content to stay within the enclosed walls of the bunker so he’ll stay a little warmer.

The sky is painted in hues of lavender as the morning sun rises, looking down at Dazai and Chuuya as they get off the boat and onto the island on Hokkaido, as Chuuya expected it is unbearably cold here, even with the tanzen and hanten, he can feel the ghost of chill within his bones.

A sudden warm hand grabs his, and the cold is no longer disturbing him, he looks at Dazai who’s giving a small smile, bordering on teasing as he guides Chuuya through the snow and the freezing hold of winter.

“The inn should be nearby.” Chuuya nods, holding his scarf higher as he feels his nose grow more numb, this is so damn troublesome, all for Ace and his stupid accomplice.

They’ve walked a distance away from the port and Dazai’s tails show up again, Chuuya braces for the eventual annoyance but is pleasantly surprised with the way Dazai’s tails wrap around him.

“Finally using your tails for good.” Chuuya comments, walking closer to Dazai nonetheless.

The inn is smaller compared to most, but it’s warm enough so Chuuya won’t complain; as they near the inn, he realises that Dazai still has his tails out, Chuuya tugs on Dazai’s hand urgently.

“Your tails! Your ears!” Dazai raises an eyebrow, then lets out a boisterous laugh leading Chuuya into the inn, Chuuya panics because if they get caught it’ll be worrisome with the nation already at an unease against yokai.

Chuuya closes his eyes and braces for the worst as Dazai shoves open the doors to the inn, but nothing disastrous happens, if anything the patrons of the inn continue with their tasks, some glancing at the new-comers but nothing alarming.

“Only yokai can see this inn.” Dazai whispers, greeting the owner as they walk to the counter.

“But I’m not-” Chuuya lets a perplexed face show, looking around at the myriad of yokai that has gathered, oni, tengu, hainu, even an aosagibi.

“I’m sharing my magic with you.” Dazai’s tails rub reassuringly against Chuuya’s back as they wait for the owner to retrieve the keys to their room.

“Chuuya?!” A familiar voice calls him, he turns around to find Lippmann and Pianoman, side by side as always, their tails intertwining, drinks in hand, Pianoman looking a little tipsy, holding a cup of sake.

Lippmann gives him his usual dazzling smile that’s only heightened with his five cream coloured tails fanning out, he inches closer, his scent sweetening more than it already is as he comes to greet Chuuya, while Pianoman’s six black tails with white tips shift in hazy motions, waving at Chuuya.

“I must say, if you give me a million guesses I would’ve never guessed that you’d show up with a member of the Yokai royal committee.” Lippmann eases his way towards Chuuya, eyes glittering in happiness as he talks to Chuuya, and his eyes shine a little more differently as he watches Dazai.

“Let alone the esteemed intel general of His Majesty, what a surprise to see someone of your caliber in this humble inn.” Lippmann bows deeply out of respect, but it feels stiff, more obligation than genuine admiration.

“No need to waste your words to flatter this passing general, your work as the negotiator between the two worlds is little to scoff at, I am only cleaning up some loose ends.” Dazai explains, in a kind and respectful tone, Chuuya wants to laugh so hard, the first time seeing Dazai talk with such eloquence. 

“This humble one is grateful for your praise, but this one wants to inquire why you have my companion with you?” Lippmann’s airy tone makes it sound like small talk, but Chuuya can see the more mechanical moves of his tails and the unexpressive eyes.

“We are mutually assisting each other in a highly classified mission as partners.” Lippmann tilts his head, looking at Chuuya, who is still partially wrapped in Dazai’s tails, Chuuya shrugs.

“Is this closeness necessary for the task at hand?” Lippmann asks, but teasing seems like an appropriate word.

“It’s cold.” Chuuya speaks up, pulling his scarf down, Lippmann doesn’t say anything, but his grin feels like an accusation as he faces Chuuya.

“I’m sure…” Lippmann’s tone is ominous, he tilts his head exposing the bond mark he has, Chuuya’s hand curls a bit; Lippmann and Pianoman has been bonded for quite some time now, when they announced it to the group they were ecstatic, who wouldn’t.

And Chuuya knows he’s selfish for feeling envy, he was genuinely happy for his friends, but seeing the fresh bond mark felt like a stone in his stomach, seeing something he dares to dream of.

“I wanted to tell the rest of the flags all at the same time, but seeing that you’re here…” Lippmann trails off, fetching something in his bag, a white letter, smelling like the persimmons in the summer, he looks down at the letter.

It’s a wedding invitation.

“You’re getting married!?” Chuuya exclaims, voice raising, causing Lippmann’s cheeks to red in embarrassment, waving his hands around to warn Chuuya as the other guests at the inn look over in their direction.

Chuuya puts his hand over his mouth, cheeks flushing a light pink as he registers the stare of the others, but the sight is quickly hidden as Dazai’s tails sways upwards to hide Chuuya’s face.

“It’s happening in two months! Soon after the new year! Ideally we want a much more private celebration, however if you want to bring your…partner with you, I wouldn’t mind one bit.” Lippmann chuckles, Chuuya’s about to wring his neck at the teasing comment but the owner of the inn comes back.

“I’m terribly sorry but the only room we have left only has one bed.” The owner profusely apologises, Dazai simply waves her off and collects the key with a warm smile.

“That’s quite alright, the winter festivals are approaching, you must be swamped with work, let this foolish one apologise instead.” It’s such an insane whiplash to see Dazai act so politely, this bastard has done nothing but annoy the hell out of Chuuya.

“No, need, someone in high regard such as yourself doesn’t need to lower yourself for a simple inn owner such as myself.” Chuuya raises an eyebrow, he knew that Dazai held an important position in the Yokai Kingdom, but getting this reaction is a little absurd?!

“I digress.” Dazai flashes her a smile, it’s sickeningly, sweetly and simply fake, Chuuya wants to throw up. Dazai gives her a small pouch of coins as payment for the room; they finally move towards their room and Chuuya waves Lippmann and Pianoman farewell.

“Excuse me! I think you’ve given me a few coins too much.” The owner calls out, ready to give the extra coins in her shaking hands as they’re walking up the stairs.

“Is that so? Keep it, it has more use to you than it does to me.” Chuuya wants to gag, what a two-faced freak; so polite with everyone else yet he basically coerced Chuuya to join this outlandish journey to save a nation.

Chuuya snatches the key from Dazai’s hands and hurries to unlock the door, when he enters the room, he drops the bags and beelines straight for the futon.

“Hey! Leave some space for me!” Chuuya scoffs, turning on his side.

“Why don’t you sweet talk that sweet old woman for an extra futon?” Chuuya can’t stand him, annoying prick.

Chuuya tries to close his eyes and sleep, ignoring the grumbling and shuffling behind him, clutching the blanket closer, biting his tongue to combat the cold. A familiar warmth washes over him, over the two week trip to Hokkaido he’s become acutely aware of the texture of Dazai’s tails.

“You’re shivering.” Dazai says right behind him, he can feel his voice in the back of his neck, he can feel how Dazai’s teeth scrape lightly against his skin, his heart is burning, he can’t take it.

He can’t face Dazai, wary of what expression he has that can embarrass him more. Chuuya shifts further away from Dazai but that fucking freak inches closer, tails holding Chuuya instead of just laying on him.

“Fuck off.” Chuuya grits his teeth, clenching his fists. Much to his dismay Dazai does not fuck off, instead he curls in next to Chuuya, a bandaged laying on his hip, tapping rhythmically.

“Ah, but you asked me to stay with you for a while, I am simply fulfilling your request.” Chuuya freezes, he remembers that?

“Doesn’t count, I thought you were a regular wild fox.” Dazai hums, he uses one of his tails to tilt Chuuya’s head towards Dazai, Chuuya should’ve left this bastard to die of poisoning in the forest instead of helping him.

“Lying to your partner is such a foul move.” Chuuya shifts so that he’s on his back, face turned to look at Dazai, gripping his clothes as Dazai traces his finger from Chuuya’s jaw all the way down to his neck.

“You knew, from the moment you realised your poisoned peaches didn’t kill me, that I was a yokai.” Dazai’s hand rests on the point where his neck and collarbones meet, pressing down slightly, the pressure won’t be enough to suffocate him, but he feels dizzy all the same.

“You fascinate me like no other.” Chuuya says like it’s an accusation, eyes daring Dazai to kill him, baring his neck wide open for Dazai to slice open with his fangs, trying to find out why Dazai chose him, his reasoning of a throw away request Chuuya said doesn’t make sense for a someone like Dazai.

Dazai lifts his hand, laying it on top of Chuuya’s chest, it holds no weight, one shrug from Chuuya and the hand would fall away.

It feels like a claw digging into his heart.

“You’re bold, I could kill you now.” Dazai spews the threat gently, treating it like a fragile lantern.

“You couldn’t.” Chuuya bites back, staring into the ceiling.

“I could.” Dazai’s voice tickles his ear.

“You can kill, you just can’t kill me.” Chuuya points out, laying his hand on top of Dazai.

“How are you sure?” Chuuya turns his head around, facing Dazai, then turning his body around to face the other side, leaving his back bare, Dazai could kill him right now, but Chuuya knows he won’t, because-

“You saved me.” If Dazai wanted to kill him, he could always show up a minute later at Ace’s estate, but he didn’t, he showed up just in time. 

Awareness comes to Chuuya in slow waves as he wakes up, it’s still early morning, the sun has barely peeked over the horizon from the small gap between the shutters in their room.

The first thing he realises is the near over-bearing weight of Dazai’s pheromones, it lays on him like a laying under a boulder, it’s unbearably heavy like when they first officially met, Chuuya feels dizzy for a different reason as Dazai’s warm and passive scent caress over him.

The culprit is beside him, sleeping and unaware, it’s maddening, it’s absurd and it’s horrifyingly tempting; every time Chuuya swallows the saliva that’s building up in the back of his throat more build up.

Chuuya covers his mouth with his hand, body unable to move, stuck in place, it’s too hazy to move, it’s like Dazai is on top of him, crushing his insides, but he isn’t, he’s sleeping right beside him, snoozing away. Chuuya’s canines itch to bite, Dazai’s pheromones haven’t bothered him too much lately, why the sudden intensity.

The winter’s cold is right outside their room, right outside the window but Chuuya is sweating too much.

Dazai shifts behind and to Chuuya’s horror he moves closer to him, must the bastard inconvenience him at every moment, his scent grows more intense, Chuuya can’t stand it, he shoves his hand harder against his mouth as a low groan escapes him.

Dazai’s arm flops around Chuuya’s middle as Dazai’s face leans against his neck, Chuuya shuts his eyes closed, trying everything to not go crazy with how fucking suffocating Dazai’s scent is.

Chuuya tries to inch away but Dazai drags him closer, his cheek nuzzling into Chuuya’s scent gland; Chuuya starts shaking because scenting will make this worse, he lets out a whimper when Dazai’s lips briefly pass his gland.

Chuuya grits his teeth as he prepares for the worst, but instead Dazai’s scent begins to mellow out the more he scents Chuuya, how odd, Chuuya freezes, eyeing Dazai as his heart steadies.

Dazai’s scent becomes more bearable, more stationery rather than feeling like a constant pressure.

Does scenting mellow out their scents? Fuck, does this mean that all the times Dazai’s scent wasn’t as annoying, Dazai had scented him!? The ass didn’t fucking tell him! 

No fucking wonder people looked at them like they were a couple, their scents were probably all over each other, no wonder Lippmann looked at him weird.

Chuuya can’t ever live this down.

Chuuya wakes again, this time there’s no scent of Dazai around him, because Dazai isn’t here at all, probably went down first, Chuuya sits up, twists to his side, holding his weight using one hand as the other grabs his medicine bag and shakily takes the medicine.

Throughout the night, his clothes must’ve loosened because it slips open a little, exposing his collarbones, he shifts it back to where it’s supposed to be, his fingers brush by his scent gland, he grows embarrassed recalling what happened a few hours ago.

He cups his own scent gland, face facing downwards, breathing growing a little laboured, how long had he been scented by Dazai unknowingly…and most frustratingly of all, why isn’t he mad at Dazai for this? He just wants to know why it is only him.

“You’re awake, breakfast is downstairs.” Dazai comes from behind him, the door sliding open; Chuuya changes his position to sit on his knees, facing away from the door, hand still holding his scent gland.

“Chuuya?” Dazai’s voice creeps closer, Chuuya refuses to turn to Dazai, lowering his head more when Dazai’s feet his in front of him, his other hand clutching his robes when he sees Dazai kneel down opposite to him, watching bandaged hands carefully move his medicine back into the bag.

“Chuuya? Are you okay? Is it too cold?” Dazai asks, hands moving to the front of his robes, closing them, his fingers brush by his collar bones, Chuuya lets his hand fall from his neck.

“How long?” Chuuya looks up at Dazai, whose face is scrunching in confusion, hands stopping at the edge of his clothes.

“How long have you been scenting me?” Dazai’s eyes droops downwards, his hands returning to lap.

“Since the night we met.” Dazai confesses, but he doesn’t look ashamed, not one bit.

“You didn’t tell me!?” Chuuya lunges, hands clutching at Dazai’s pale blue kimono, face contorted not in anger but in disbelief, Dazai leans back, allowing Chuuya the option to choke him harder.

“I wanted to make sure.” Dazai’s hands come to hold the very same hands that are choking him, rubbing his thumb along Chuuya’s wrist.

“Make sure of what exactly?” Chuuya rises to kneel, dragging Dazai up with him, the sneaky fox has the nerve to smile, as his hands reach beside Chuuya’s face in a cupping motion, ready to hold Chuuya, it makes him uneasy, Dazai opens his mouth, then-

“Chuuya?” Another voice comes from the door, Chuuya turns around to see Pianoman at the door with an easy smile and wave; Chuuya drops Dazai, his hand falling down, not able to quite hold Chuuya.

“Listen, I-” Chuuya gets up to explain to Pianoman, but the alpha kitsune dismisses him, hand clasping Chuuya’s shoulder.

“There’s breakfast downstairs, don’t keep Lippmann waiting.” Chuuya nods, leaving with Pianoman, he looks back to see Dazai’s face shifted downwards, hiding all emotion he might show.

They’re walking through the busy streets of Sapporo, an up and coming bustling city, decorations are being sold and presented for the new years festival, snow falling down on the streets and people yet they embrace it here.

They’re on the way to where the blacksmith is, near the outskirts of the city, the sun is high in the sky but it’s still too cold, so Chuuya reluctantly holds the Dazai’s hand, just to keep warm, of course.

Dazai has his eyes on the map while Chuuya is idly following, this could be a trap, it feels a little like a trap, but Dazai isn’t showing any signs of concern so maybe Chuuya is just being a little dramatic.

They’re standing in front of a jewellery shop and it seems unassuming from the front, but the placement of the shop seems a little off, why place a business where the mostly the rich frequent in the outskirts? Why not put it near the city center?

But Dazai walks in nonetheless, there’s a single woman managing the shop and Daza subtly squeezes his hand, Chuuya’s eyes harden at the woman, this is Ace’s informant.

“What brings such a lovely couple here?” Chuuya momentarily freezes, forgetting that they’re basically wrapped up in each other's scent, they’re even holding hands for fucks sake! Chuuya’s face heats up and when he looks up at Dazai, he finds that the bastard is also blushing.

“Oh dear, was it that obvious?” Huh? What? Chuuya’s face freezes as he tries to understand just exactly what the hell Dazai means by that, Chuuya looks back up to see that Dazai has a bashful look on him with a sinister grin.

Motherfuck-

Chuuya suddenly gets pulled closer to Dazai, the hand holding his lets go as it wraps around Chuuya’s waist, pressing him flush against the infuriating bastard, Dazai’s other hand holds Chuuya’s hand that isn’t stuck between the two of them.

Chuuya would punch Dazai, honestly he doesn’t know why isn’t punching the asshole in the face, maybe it has something to do with the fact that Dazai is currently kissing his ring finger; Chuuya feels his jaw drop and his face burn, what the fuck is going on?!

“Close your mouth dear, you know that I am unable to keep sane around your pretty mouth.” Chuuya can feel Ace’s informant gasping in shock, that makes the two of them but they’re shocked for two entirely different reasons.

Chuuya is frozen on the spot, yet his body feels like it’s on fire, his hands are shaking as Dazai grins against his pulse point, his lips sliding against his scent gland, Chuuya feels dizzy, he feels horrified, he’s going to murder Dazai then Ace’s informant.

Dazai switches his gaze to Ace’s informant, giving a saccharine smile and misleading eyes.

“We’re going to buy some wedding rings, can you help us out?” Chuuya feels his brain halt for a second time, they’re getting married? What? Chuuya can’t make a coherent thought, wondering exactly how they managed to get here.

“Of course! I’ll grab our best selection!” She hurries to the back of the store, and as soon as she does Chuuya shoves Dazai away from him, heaving against the counter while glaring at the devious freak.

“What the fuck was that?!” Chuuya hisses, cradling the hand that Dazai besmirched with his lips against his chest, his head, from the tips of his ears till the base of his neck feel unbearably warm, it’s so uncomfortably warm.

“It’s called acting! I had to convince her one way or another.” Dazai snickers, looking at Chuuya’s bewildered face with an evil grin like the apples of his cheeks aren’t also flushing.

“There were better ways than whatever stunt you just pulled!” They’re on opposite sides of the room but the leftover tension has yet to leave, and Chuuya is mortified as his eyes keep glancing at Dazai’s lips.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve been engaged.” Chuuya freezes for another reason, because how did Dazai know that he’s been engaged? The engagement lasted a month at most, not even the clan elders knew.

“When you turned eighteen your father offered your hand in marriage in front of the emperor, so he could choose your future spouse.” Dazai shrugs, like this is a normal piece of information for someone to have on him, Chuuya didn’t even know most of the details, he only knew that his hand in marriage was offered then his ex-fiancé got cold feet or something.

“I’m guessing it’s because your father is bound to retire from the advisor position and didn’t want the Nakahara clan position in the royal court to be in full control of some side branch of your family he disapproved of.” Dazai walks closer to Chuuya, approaching him with a smirk.

Dazai doesn’t make sense, there was no point in fighting for control of the Nakahara clan seat in the royal court if his own damn father wouldn’t even let him go out of the estate for more than once a month.

He’d been such a sheltered kid, he wouldn’t have known anything about the political tension that went on in the royal court.

His father also knew that he was infertile from the beginning, he wouldn’t have produced an heir either way, so it doesn’t make sense that his father would try to push him into the advisor seat in the royal court, pushing a sheltered and sickly son into such a demanding position? Even a fool would know how stupid it seems.

Why would Dazai know about this? Chuuya remembers his father having that meeting in the privacy of the family estate office, no one else was there except the three of them; his father asked the emperor to not tell anyone except the suitor the emperor chose until the Nakahara family announced it themselves.

It doesn’t make any sense, why would Dazai know? Unless…

“You were my fiance?!” Chuuya screeches as Dazai goes into a fit of giggles, confirming Chuuya’s suspicions; in hindsight it makes sense, if Dazai and Chuuya did get married it would give the Nakahara clan a hidden advantage in political debates.

“At least you're not as slow as a slug!” Dazai was the former head advisor, anything he said would override any decision the clans made, it would even override a majority vote. 

If they were married it would give his father more opportunities to talk to Dazai and sway his opinion on a topic, his father didn’t need an heir from Chuuya to do that; a marriage would suffice.

A political pawn and a burden…was Chuuya anything more to his father? 

“The Nakahara clan controls a great deal of the trading in the port, and with the rising relationship from the west and south…Mori couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” Dazai sighs, eyes looking away from Chuuya, staring at the jewellery on the counter with a far away look.

Chuuya feels sorry, he probably isn’t an ideal spouse, his body can’t do anything right, he would be a failure as a husband.

Dazai suddenly sneezes, then he grabs on to Chuuya’s arm, it’s near painful; Dazai looks at him with a tired grin.

“You’ve been engaged, but have you ever been kidnapped, Chuuya?” Chuuya’s caught so off-guard by the question that he barely has time to catch Dazai as he collapses onto the ground.

“Oi! Wake up! What’s wrong!?” Chuuya holds Dazai against his chest, lightly tapping his face, his face scrunching up in concern as Dazai lets out an awful groan and his half-lidded eyes grow unfocused.

“Daz-!” A hand suddenly starts choking Chuuya from behind and a cloth is put against his mouth and nose; Chuuya tries to free from the chokehold but he curses his stupid body as the world grows blurry far too quickly for his liking.

Next thing he knows he’s on the floor as two pairs of feet come into view, he looks at Dazai’s unconscious face and curses him one last time before darkness steals him.