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A Promise Not Meant To Be Broken

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It was in the dead of the night when Dazai got a call from an unknown number. Lying diagonally on the futon, he counted the number of rings that the phone echoed into the pitiful dorm he now resides. Praying to whatever mythical god that exists, pleaded that it was a miss dial. 

 

Though the cellular device kept on piercing the once silent room. Contemplating whether one should answer at this hour, Dazai assumed that the number would likely be someone he fathoms talking to at the moment. 

 

Hoisting his lanky form to a slouching position, he reached for the turmoil-causing device. After waiting for another ring to confirm it’s determination, he hesitantly pressed the answer button.

 

“Dazai-san.” said a familiar voice that was easily identifiable due to the fact they were one of the longest standing members of the Port Mafia.

 

“Ah, old man. What do you inquire about at this time of night?” Dazai replied, reaching with his freehand to dig under his pillow for a bottle of sake he kept in case of emergencies.

 

I would consider this an emergency seeing as I haven’t had to talk to Hirotsu one on one in quite some time. 

 

“Let’s not waste our time on such frivolous small talk, shall we?”

 

“Fufu, and here I was thinking you missed me and wished for some entertainment!” Dazai retorted, taking a swing from the gimmicky bottle.

 

“We have a situation on our hands that requires your assistance,” Hirotsu responded in a monotone voice despite the ring of automatic guns firing and blood-curdling screams. 

 

The bottle's rim touched Dazai’s lips but after hearing such information, he set the bottle down beside himself.

 

Head now filling with thoughts, he wondered, What mission would require my assistance? After all, I’m a traitor? Perhaps this is Mori-san testing whether I have intentions of filling an executive position now empty? No, he wouldn’t stoop to such pitiful attempts…  

 

Now intrigued by the bait set, Dazai replied, “And what pleasantries are required from Mori-san?”

 

“Mori-san isn’t aware of the current situation. Tachihara, advance forward and provide cover for Chuuya!”    

 

Dazai’s eyes widened at the mention of his ex-partner. Staggering, the brunette reached for his shoes and coat.

 

“Where is your location?” Dazai said in a tone that hasn’t had to be used since his Port Mafia days.

 

“The warehouse closest to Dock-----” Hirotsu began to reply before the line went silent, signifying the loss of connection.

 

Shoving his opposing arm into his trench coat, he rushed to the kitchen sink where underneath lay the plumbing. Upon opening the cabinet, Dazai jostled to reach for a certain floor board where one plank sat a millimeter higher than the surrounding flooring. After locating such plank Dazai gingerly lifted the board about 3 inches then turned the panel 45° to the right. Removing the board revealed thousands of dollars worth RFID tracking equipment.

 

“Ah, it’s a good thing the chibi doesn’t change very often, such an obedient and well trained animal if I do say so myself!” Dazai exclaimed while typing in Chuuya’s birthday to log in to the system which would locate the red head's whereabouts. 

 

Around the age of 16, Dazai gifted Chuuya a black leather choker with a simple silver buckle claiming I wouldn’t want my little sheep dog running too far without his owner! What Chuuya didn’t know about the so-called collar had, embedded into the leather, a paper thin tracking device. During the years Double Black was in operation, this chip had come in handy whenever Dazai needed to locate Chuuya. Though anytime Chuuya enquired Dazai about how he knew his location, Dazai would claim that it was easy to follow a slug since they always leave a trail of slime where they go . This statement often resulted in Dazai being beaten up by a certain redhead. 

 

After leaving the Port Mafia, Dazai never bothered removing the device from the choker. Insisting to himself that bringing the tracking equipment would insure he would be able to continue collecting blackmail on the hatrack.  

 

Slipping into familiarity Dazai was able to log into the system and promptly pinpoint Chuuya’s location displayed with a hat-shaped dot.

 

 Huh, the mission is towards the opposite end of Yokohama. I thought warehouse 8 dock 673 was closed due to its location being so far from the current Port Mafia’s headquarters? Well, I guess this gives me an excuse to practice my lockpicking skills on Kunikida’s door! 

 

One might assume the process would take longer to find Chuuya due to the fact Dazai hadn’t used the gear for a while. But in Dazai’s oblivious mind he made the excuse that an owner must frequently check to see how their dog is doing when left to their devices for too long. Especially when left alone in the wild. With this in mind, every once in a blue moon (being every month) Dazai checks to see where Chuuya is. Whether that be at a bar, mission, or even once shitting on a toilet, Dazai watches from afar ensuring his ‘property’ is safe.

 

Placing the equipment back into its designated spot and setting the wooden plank back into its position, Dazai scurried around the dorm looking for various items placed in hidden spots only few would think of. In the end he pocketed a gun, lock picking kit, and a knife he stole from Chuuya years ago. Walking out of his room, Dazai began to head towards Kunikida’s dorm where he was sure four-eyes kept a spare set of car keys for the shared Armed Detective Agency vehicle. 

 

Arriving at Dorm number 808, Dazai pulled out the necessary tools to open the door. After 3 minutes had passed a familiar clink of a lock opening signaled Dazai had succeeded in opening Kunikida’s door.

 

Tsk tsk, Kunikida should really upgrade his locks! After breaking in so many times, I’m surprised he hasn't upgraded. What a boring challenge he always presented me with!

 

Opening the door, Dazai began carefully making his trek. Keeping in mind the layout of where on the floor the creaky points lay. In the kitchen Dazai knew there was a green bowl which held important miscellaneous things such as keys, extra pens, and rubberbands. 

 

Before heading towards the intended destination, Dazai crept into the room where Kunikida lay on his futon. 



Snoring and holding tightly his ‘ideals’ notebook Kunikida slept peacefully ignorant. Bending at the waist Dazai observed the man’s face. 

 

Hmpf, peering down at blondies face reminds me of the days I used to lay next to Chuuya after using corruption. Hovering a hand over his nose to make sure the petite mafia wasn’t gonna die before me. How sad it would be if Chuuya got to die before me, definitely a disgrace. Nee, now I’d have to carry his scrawny ass to see Yosano to make sure I die before him!

 

With precise movements, Dazai grabbed a black sharpie from his trench coat with every intention to draw on the man's face. Successfully Dazai had drawn on a unibrow, mustache with connecting sideburns, and circular spectacles. Triumphantly Dazai took a moment to appreciate his work and snap a quick picture before heading to the kitchen, where the vehicle keys sat. 

 

The keys being a simple copper design with a silver ring attached. Dangling also on the ring hung, a rainbow Yokohama tourist keychain.

 

Holding the keys in distaste Dazai thought Chuuya must be rolling in his grave knowing someone would have a colored key on a unlike key ring. 

 

Surprised by his own thoughts Dazai briskly grabbed the keys and left the man's residence. Concerned on time and his occurring thoughts Dazai hastily went towards the parking lot where the car sat. 

 

Locating the car Dazai unlocked the vehicle and sat in the driver's seat.

 

Taking a deep breath Dazai clenched and released the steering wheel multiple times. Knowing damn well he was banned from driving a vehicle, due to the bills and fines piling on Kunikida's desk. 

 

Collectively, the members of the Armed Detective Agency decided to ban Dazai from driving. The only people that disagreed with this vote were the accused and Atsushi. Though when pulled aside, the members got Atsushi to agree. Due to the fact the weretiger had first hand experience of the truma one can go through when a certain bandaged man drives, he reluctantly agreed with the rest of the members.

 

“Ne, the things Chibikko makes me do!” Dazai whined, inserting the key into the ignition and putting the gear shift in reverse. 

 

Successfully pulling out of the parking lot, Dazai honed in on his goal.

 

 Wait for me Chuuya, remember the promise you made me. Well, the same promise goes for me too, so just hold on a little while longer.