Chapter Text
It's all in your head.
If you keep doing this, you might just end up like me...
Suicidal, Alone, Unhappy, Unwanted...
I would say that's good but-
"CAN'T YOU JUST LET ME BE?!" Chuuya screamed, his voice echoing around the whole graveyard, "It's just taboo for you to see that I'm alone and unbothered, huh?!"
This wasn't normal.
Normally, the Chuuya Dazai knew would have bickered with him until they both collapsed from sheer exhaustion. But this time, Dazai could practically see the last thread of Chuuya's patience fraying before his eyes. Was it something he'd said earlier, or perhaps...
Oh, how could Dazai possibly forget?
Chuuya was still sulking over the death of The Flags. Poor thing. Honestly, when will his loyal mutt learn not to grow attached to people? At this rate, some random kid waving at him from across the street might keel over, and Chuuya would spend the next week moping about it like it was the end of the world. Truly, a tragic flaw.
Dazai crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed with the melodrama unfolding him. They were at the last tombstone of the day—Albatross's—yet instead of feeling satisfied that the mourning spree was finally coming to an end, Dazai found himself wondering if the slug was being overly theatrical.
Honestly, it was bizarre to see Nakahara crouched at a grave, head bowed, completely silent, not crying, not fidgeting—he wasn't even blinking! But of course, if you possessed a fraction of Dazai brilliance, you'd know the teenager was drowning in a sea of sorrow, even if he looked more like a malfunctioning statue
Dazai was aware of it, but that didn't mean he got it. To him, humans were like porcelain dolls—give them a little poke, and they'd shatter faster than cheap glassware. Honestly, what was the point of collecting fragile things if they were just going to keep diminishing?
...
And of course, it started raining. Because why not?
Dazai harbors numerous reasons for his disdain toward the rain, one of which is its detrimental effect on his beauty and charisma. Fortunately, he anticipated this and promptly produced his umbrella, moving closer to the slug to ensure it shielded him as well from their persistentary.
As much as he hated the slug, sick slug sounded even more unbearable.
He gagged at the thought of it.
"Chuuya..." he whined; his face scrunched in exaggerated dismay. "Let's get moving, you've had your emotional highlight reel for the day, and I've got an appointment to ruin Ango's peace of mind. If I miss it, my whole schedule falls apart!"
"You can leave."
Wow. What a response. So dry it could rival a desert. Where was the flavor? The drama?
"If I do leave, who's going to hold the umbrella for you, huh? It's not like your dearly departed pals are going to rise from the grave and-"
"Dazai." His voice cracked, hoarse and trembling, as if he were teetering on the edge of a tearful meltdown. Oh,. Another emotional crisis to deal with. So much for a simple day of mischief. How utterly exhausting.
"Well, they can't, can they?" Dazai replied, rather oblivious.
"Leave."
"You're getting worked up over six people barely knew last year—talk about overreacting! And, since when clones get the green light to have feelings anyway?"Chuuya's head snapped back at that.
"Take that back." He growled, "Right. Fucking. Now."
Dazai doesn't know why he said that. He knows full well that Chuuya is human, but there was no backing out of it now.
"Whatever," Dazai sighed in resignation. "Clones have an uncanny tendency to the most peculiar behaviors, and, predictably, they are never the appropriate ones. I hardly expect mere lines of code to comprehend the kind of information that even eludes human understanding."
Okay, he agrees. That went too far.
The redhead's shoulders drooped at the last sentence.
Without a word, he got up and started retreating to the road, paying the rain no mind.
"Chuuya, I-"
The roar of the engine overwhelmed his words as he watched the teenager vanish into the distance in silence. Not the Port Mafia Headquarters, no... Dazai understood it was a purposeless escape.
Well, it didn't matter because Dazai was certainly sure he'd break into the slug's apartment and apologize sooner or later.
But for now, there goes his ride home.
It was inconsequential; an escape from yet another session on that machine, which emanated an aura of 'Death' that deeply unsettled Dazai. Call it irrational, but that contraption was genuinely terrifying.
.
.
...
Chuuya was the reason for all this.
Verlaine believed it, N did, but those were just people he wanted to be the last kills of his lifetime.
It didn't break his heart that Dazai believed it too.
He believed that Chuuya wasn't human.
Chuuya himself also believed that Chuuya wasn't human.
It confirmed it for Chuuya, there is nothing to live for.
The fact that he couldn't get angry at him made his grip on the steers tighter. His heart was racing more than when Albatross said his last words to him. His breathing was getting shallow. His throat etched, and he really, really wanted to pull on his hair.
It was foolish for him to believe that Dazai would be different. There are a lot of things that could be pinned on that guy as bad. No, evil. From the first day.
He was weird, creepy and condescending as fuck.
It unsettled Chuuya that every time Dazai made contact with him, his face would flush with warmth. Those rare moments when Dazai genuinely cared—when he tended to Chuuya after the toll of corruption, when he consistently watched over him—caused Chuuya's heart to race uncontrollably.
The words he never could have imagined would have come out of Dazai's mouth. it did. He said it. He shouldn't be surprised. He was just spitting facts.
He saw the transparency in his voice. The way he didn't chase after him.
Chuuya understands he was not being melodramatic. It merely stings to realize that even he cannot affirm his humanity. He should not be experiencing emotions. He should not be shedding tears. He should not be heartbroken. not feel betrayed. He should not be screaming aimlessly with his eyes closed...
Now, one might ask, what was wrong with that statement?
It's the fact that his eyes are closed and he's on a fucking bike speeding the fastest he has ever right now.
His eyes snapped open in alarm, and in that split second, he calculated that his chances of stopping before hitting the massive truck ahead were about as good as winning the lottery without buying a ticket. Still, he slammed on the brakes anyway, because why not go out with a dramatic flourish?
Nothing could stop the of curses spilling from mouth he hurtled toward the machinery at breakneck speed. With no time to spare, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the inevitable, accepting his fate like the totally mature young adult he fancied himself to be.
So, this was how it going to end, huh? Honestly, kinda embarrassing if you think about it.
Then he heard it—a deafening scream, like some of supernatural ability. Weird. He waited for the crash, for the pain, but... nothing. Also weird. His eyes opened, only to discover longer on his bike. Instead, he was milliseconds away from introducing his face to the pavement in what promised to be a spectacularly grace fashion.
No need to panic—he lands on his hands like pro gymnast and steadies himself. But wait... this definitely isn't Yokohama anymore
Oh no, he somehow ended up in the future...
What in the world were those things?! Giant holograms be off skyscrapers?! Right, maybe he did actually die...
Apparently, the writer of this chaos wasn't done wreaking havoc yet, because Chuuya suddenly found himself staring at a massive... thing? Beast? Whatever it was, it was hideous beyond belief and was currently flying at him at an alarming speed, courtesy of an actual giant of a woman. And no, he absolutely wasn't exaggerating—not even a little.
You'd think Chuuya would've dodged—well, normally he would have—but his feet and hands weren't cooperating, probably thanks to the sheer shock of the situation.
The object barreled into him with brutal force, sending him crashing through the building behind him. Pain exploded in his torso like a firework display of misery.
And just when he thought the universe was done bullying him, a loose brick from the very same building decided to test gravity, plummeting down and landing squarely on his head. The poor brick didn't stand a chance—it split clean in two upon impact.
Guess you could say Chuuya was... hardheaded! Haha...!
Alright, alright, I'll stop.
He saw stars... actual stars... or so he thought. Nope, turns out it was just his head again, currently leaking a rather worrying amount of blood. Well, that was definitely a problem for future Chuuya to solve, assuming there was a future Chuuya to begin with.
The last thing he managed to glimpse was the blurry outline of two men. Who they were? No idea—his vision was doing its best impression a foggy window. They moved, and just like that, Chuuya's world went lights out.
.
.
...
"Flicking off villains without warning is absolutely unacceptable!" Present Mic exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "You injured a listener! And even worse, it was a kid!"
"It wasn't deliberate," Mountain Lady admitted, looking sheepish. "But that doesn't excuse my actions, I know..."
"Exactly! -"
"Hizashi," came a groggy voice, dripping with irritation. "Stop yelling. You're making my headache worse."
"Agreed," Midnight chimed in, rubbing her temples. "You're going to wake up the patients who are trying to sleep."
"This is the coma ward," he hissed, lowering his voice but still managing to sound indignant. "Don't you really want these people waking up now?"
The room fell silent as everyone collectively rolled their eyes at him.
The mission did not proceed as seamlessly as Hizashi had anticipated. In fact, Takeyama decided to take matters into her own hands, picking up a High-end Nomu and flicking it away, much like she handled all her problems. This resulted in the unfortunate situation of being in front of a hospital room, awaiting news about the poor individual who had been attacked by a thrown monster weighing as much as a large helicopter.
Not gonna lie, when he saw the listener, he genuinely thought the guy had kicked the bucket.
A doctor burst out of the room they were standing near, interrupting his spiraling thoughts, and made a beeline for them.
"This kid... has he some kind of healing quirk?" the doctor blurted out. "his injuries sealed up the moment we patched them! And his... neck... oh, it... Just come in here."
The Pro heroes all exchanged looks of suspicion. A healing quirk...? if so, then he would have healed whiles receiving first-aid. Peculiar...
They entered the room, and their eyes darted to two things only...
The serial number on the child's neck!
And the scars littered all over the child's chest.
"Tell me that was from the crash...!" Midnight shrieked.
"Unfortunately," He began, "No. These are all old, they seem to be more than a few years old. The only one that seems most recent is that scar on his gut... it's old alright, but I'm not sure it's more than two years."
A pained expression lay on the kid's face. His fingers twitched and he inhale a huge intake of air before gasping it all out and jolting awake.
"SHIT...!!!" He yelled.
His expression softened slightly as he took in his surroundings. But then, like a storm cloud rolling in, his eyes turned sharp and dangerous, locking onto the adults with a glare that could cut steel—most of it directed at the Doctor.
If Aizawa claimed he wasn't startled, it was only because he hadn't had his morning coffee yet. Seriously, no caffeine, no reactions—it was practically out of nature. But even in his groggy state he couldn't ignore the sheer intensity that glare. Calculating, intimidating, and far too menacing for someone who probably still needed parental consent for field trips. Aizawa had never seen such a look from anyone before—let alone a teenager.
This kid was not normal. Children were supposed to have wide-eyed curiosity, not eyes that screamed "I see through your soul" paired with an expression that belonged on a villain's wanted poster.
The teen was soon wrapped in a blazing red aura, the cupboards around the room flipped open with dramatic flair as dangerously sharp objects zoomed through the air like missiles. They stopped abruptly, hovering inches away from their targets, their menace practically screaming at everyone in the room. Turns out, his quirk wasn't healing after all.
It was Gravity Manipulation.
"H-Hey, little listener..." Present Mic stammered, his usual booming confidence replaced by a cautious tremor. "How are you feeling...?"
"Who. Are. You." the teen growled, completely ignoring the question. "Where am I?! What did you do to me?! Start talking, or I'll turn this room into confetti in five seconds."
Ah, first impressions—the stuff of legends. Surely, he was winning hearts left and right.
His control over his quirk was nothing short of terrifying. He didn't even break a sweat, despite having just woken up from a coma. No dramatic hand gestures, no commands shouted into the air. He simply...
Thought.
"Alright, let's get this straight," Midnight began, her voice dripping with authority. "We're Pro Heroes. I'm Midnight, that's Present Mic, this brooding figure is Eraserhead, she's Mountain Lady, and this guy over here is-"
"A doctor..." the boy interrupted, his voice laced with venom, as if the mere word left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Uh, yeah," Midnight replied, blinking. "You're in a hospital. You got pretty banged up. So... are we cool now? All beef settled?"
"Am I free to go after this?" he asked hesitantly, as though the question itself was somehow taboo.
"Absolutely!" Midnight chirped, flashing a smile. "Just need your guardian's number, and you're all set!"
The boy paused, puffing himself up like he was about to deliver some grand speech. "I... don't have a guardian. I'm from Yokohama... Not from... whatever the hell this place is."
Cue the awkward exchange of looks among the heroes.
"Uh, yeah, about that..." Mountain Lady muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yokohama kinda... stopped existing, like, ten years ago, kid."
And there it was—trouble, served piping hot.
"Don't mess with me!" he shouted, his voice booming as objects in the room started drifting ominously closer, defying gravity itself. "Tell me where I am before I flip this whole place upside down!"
"We're not joking, kid," Eraser finally broke the silence, "We'd take you there, but that place doesn't exist on any world map anymore..."
Shock flickered in those piercing blue eyes before he blurted out, "What year is it?"
Seriously? He didn't even know what year it was?! What next—was this kid going to claim he popped out of some alternate dimension?
"It's... 2125," Midnight answered hesitantly. "You didn't know—?"
"I told you to stop messing with me!" he snapped again.
Great, this guy's temper was going to be the end of them all.
"Where's my phone?!" he demanded.
"Uh, it didn't survive the crash..." Hizashi mumbled awkwardly. "But hey, don't sweat it, little listener We got you a shiny new one to make up for it!"
With a, Hizashi whipped a brand-new phone out of his pocket and waved it around like it was the grand prize on a game show.
Before anyone could blink, the phone was engulfed in a glowing red aura yanked from Hizashi's hand and landed neatly in the boy's grasp.
He inspected the device like it was a set up bomb or something, he seemed bewildered by the sight.
"What the fuck is this?! This isn't a phone...!" He growled, "You just cut out a small rectangle from a television!"
What truly terrified the heroes was the pure, unadulterated panic etched his face when it powered on. He nearly flung the cursed thing across the room, and Nemuri swore she crossed herself in a dramatic show of relief when it miraculously didn't slip from his grasp. That phone cost a fortune!
"What the—"
Nemuri decided it was finally time to address the very large, metaphorical pachyderm in the room.
"So... what kind of phones did you use back then, kid?"
Or not... Nemuri just didn't want to take any risks, who knows? One question about those numbers and her neck sure would have detached from her neck just there and then, considering the outstanding control the boy had over his quirk!
Hey... he could be a UA student! He's far more advanced than any of the students in the Hero Course! Of course, excluding the big three.
He gave her a grimace, so it deserved its own awards ceremony before muttering, "The ones that folded... I've never seen anything like this before. Maybe I really am dead."
They exchanged looks again, each glance heavy with confusion, disbelief, and just a sprinkle of "what is even happening right now."
Despite technological time travel, he wasted no dialing a number. (For someone who just discovered futuristic alien device, he figured it out suspiciously fast...) But all he got was the robotic rejection: "The number you've dialed does not exist, please try again later."
He cursed loudly, his composure crumbling like a cookie under pressure. Whoever he had called must have been seriously significant to him.
"I'm out here," he announced with the confidence of someone who decided to fight a bear, "I'll survive on my own."
"Sorry, little listener!" Hizashi chirped in with an obnoxious manner, "it's crime to be aware that a kid is roaming on the street without permanent supervision and not doing anything about it!"
"And what in the absolute three of idiocy we just had, did I ever request for guardians?!" he barked, his irritation practically slapping everyone the head "You can't stop me. One false move, and you'd be dead before you even realize it."
I've seen fair share of disasters, but this This was like VIP tickets to Pandemonium Live. The wasn't bluffing either—his entire aura screamed "Mess around and out... with scalpels." Hizashi, bless his disposition, could almost see imaginary scalpels hovering ominously inches from forehead. The kid's tone wasn't just a warning—it a full-blown neon sign: Try me, and you be a very regrettable individual."
Still, despite the threat level, Hizashi couldn't help but feel bad for the kid. He probably didn't know any better... Maybe he'd been fending for himself all this while. And honestly, the thought of him wandering aimlessly around Mustuafu was enough to send chills down Hizashi's spine.
What would really keep him up at night, though, was the idea of the kid falling under the sway the LoV. With a quirk that strong, the potential for villainy was off the charts. Hizashi thought about the kid himself. Sure, had a shell harder than titanium, but underneath it? Surely there was a chance for redemption! He needed right kind of people around him... and, well, Hizashi had been toying with the idea of adopting a kid recently, so...
No time for daydreaming; priorities first. Step one: figure out how to knock the kid out without harming him—or, critically, himself.
Without a word, he signaled Aizawa—who looked as perpetually exhausted as ever—to nullify the kid's quirk so the plan could commence.
Aizawa let out a sigh that could have powered a wind turbine, clearly dreaming of a nap, and activated his quirk His perpetually parched eyes widened as the erasure took effect. The red glow vanished, and the floating objects promptly obeyed gravity, clattering to the ground with apophony 'clinks' before the kid could even blink.
Hizashi didn't waste a second. Cranking his voice to maximum—no room for half measures here—he unleashed a banshee-like yell at the boy.
The poor kid's reaction was almost comical clutching and yanking at his hair in agony and disbelief. He held on longer than anyone else ever had, but eventually, with all the drama of a poorly written soap opera he passed out. That excruciatingly long 'eventually' was the most Hizashi had ever to scream to incapacitate someone.
This kid was definitely built different.
Both Aizawa and Hizashi exchanged worried glances, silently questioning what Takeyama had just gotten them into.