Chapter Text
Dazai Osamu was tired. Tired of the Port Mafia, tired of people leaving, tired of all of it. He wanted the pain to stop, he didn’t like pain, yet the world provided him with so much of it.
His feet were slightly over the edge of the tallest building in Yokohama, his prison, his workplace, his hell. The Port Mafia building.
“I’m sorry Odasaku.” He stepped over the edge, falling headfirst as he tilted himself as he fell through the air, taking in Yokohama’s beauty for what he believed to be the last time.
“Goodbye, Chuuya” He closed his eyes, the horrible black coat flying off him, almost as if the universe was finally freeing him from all the wrongness in this foul world.
He didn’t expect to wake up.
_______
“Hizashi, I’m just going to grab some stuff from the shop, be back in a bit” The raven-haired man called out to his husband, who made a sound of acknowledgement.
The man, Aizawa Shouta, stepped out of his humble home, and was met with-
A body? A small, bleeding figure sprawled out at a few unnatural angles on the floor outside his house. What on earth?
He gently crouched down and turned the figure into their back. And inhaled sharply. It was a boy, bandages covering one eye, brown, tousled hair clumped with blood and dirt, body covered with bandages. Worryingly underweight. He looked a similar age to Aizawa’s students. How did he get into this state?
Aizawa checked the boy’s pulse. He was alive, breathing steadily. Aizawa gently picked up the boy, careful not to jostle his wounds, and carried him inside the house.
“Sho? Back already-“ Hizashi paled at the crippled figure in his husband’s arms.
“I don’t know what happened to him, I stepped outside and he was just on the floor.” Aizawa stared down at the boy, who was either asleep or unconscious, it was hard to tell.
Hizashi signaled for Aizawa to put him down on the sofa, and Aizawa did that.
Where had this kid come from?
_____
Dazai wasn’t dead. He was painfully aware of that fact, when he awoke on an unfamiliar object, a leather couch perhaps? Mori didn’t own one, so perhaps Chuuya? No he wouldn’t own something tacky like that. Dazai felt a draft on his arm, and a sick feeling settled in his stomach as he felt the leather of the sofa on his now bare arms. His bandages weren’t there, as they should be.
What.
The Demon Prodigy kept his eyes shut, waiting with baited breath. Where was he? Who has bought him here? What did they want? More of Mori’s men? No, he wasn’t restrained. An enemy perhaps? No, it didn’t make sense.
“How long do you think he’ll be out for?” A voice, male, perhaps in his thirties, with a slightly energetic tone spoke softly, maybe to another person in the room, and Dazai was painfully aware of two sets of eyes on him.
“He’s awake already.” A gruff voice spoke, another male, tired sounding tone.
Dazai opened his eyes. They had taken his eye bandage too. Not that it really affected whether he could see out that eye anyway. He was blind through his right eye due to Mori’s shenanigans.
A tired-looking face greeted him.
Dazai wanted to go back to Chuuya.
______
Aizawa Shouta frowned. This kid was on edge. Understandable, but still odd.
“Hey kid” His husband, the forever extrovert, broke the silence. “Are you feeling better?”
The boy, who Aizawa noted had heterochromia where one of his eyes was lighter (due to Dazais blindness, this is a Headcannon btw don’t attack me) but they were both still shades of brown, didn’t answer.
Hizashi shuffled worriedly next to Aizawa.
Was this kid a mute? Or just nervous?
“I’m Hizashi Yamada! Also known as Pro Hero Present Mic! What’s your name kid?” Hizashi again broke the silence, and this time the kid actually responded.
“Dazai” He mumbled. “Where am I?” He looked disturbed slightly, and he had an accent, he was Japanese of course, but he seemed to be from a different area of Japan.
“Musutafu?” The blond man smiled at the brunette, who frowned for a second, before schooling his expression to a blank one.
What an odd child.
______
Dazai Osamu didn’t like this one bit.
Was this blond guy taking the piss out of him? Musutafu? Where’s that? Dazai knew every city outside Yokohama even without visiting them due to Mori’s home schooling, and Musutafu definitely wasn’t mentioned.
“Musutafu?” Dazai echoes.
The man nods “Yup! You from around here? We can get you back to your parents!”
Dazai swallowed. Was this a fever dream? Did he hit his head too hard when he hit the ground? Had Mori found him and drugged him into delusion again?
Dazai went with the safest option.
“My parents are dead.” He said, altering his tone to a wobbly one, simply to play his cards to promote sympathy, he didn’t know, or really care what had become of his family members, he just needed to pull at the heart strings of this Yamada guy at least.
This was going to be interesting. Very interesting indeed.