Chapter 3
Their flight touched down at one in the afternoon.
If Dazai adhered to a healthy sleep schedule, he’d probably be feeling the jetlag right now, it being nine p.m. back in Yokohama. Chuuya was also probably grateful for the night shifts the Port Mafia preferred, considering most their work here would function under the light of day for once.
Too bad— the chibi’s fashion sense was just that much more irritating under proper sunlight.
“Where are we supposed to go from here?” Chuuya voiced, their luggage slung over his shoulders.
Dazai put a finger to his chin in apparent thought, creasing his tailored suit with the pose.
They were in London, at the moment. Even with his lack of reputation in the wizarding world, it hadn’t been difficult to request the trial be held under the British Wizengamot. With Meursault’s location already heavily obscured by the governments of the non-magical populations, Dazai hadn’t been surprised. Whatever Aurors that’d been investigating his case must’ve had their hands full just trying to get any information out of the place. He was sure the French wizarding authorities were just happy to be rid of the case, nevermind that it’d mean passing it on to an already strained British regime.
Amusement flickered through him as he watched Chuuya’s growing impatience, his foot settling into a tap as he waited for instruction. Just how much his partner loathed being left out of the loop was visible on his face— Dazai being the one with the information was just the cherry on top. He’d imagine Chuuya wasn’t as content with the gimmick as he used to be, even if his gripes were neverending.
“Oh, is someone excited to see some magic? I thought— mpff.” There was a hand covering his mouth, trailing back to a certain glaring chibi.
“Do you even remember what got you into this mess? Keep your damn mouth shut for once. I don’t wanna have to— Ew, what the fuck!”
Chuuya tore his hand away at breakneck speed, Dazai still sticking his tongue out from where he’d licked the other in retaliation.
He raised an eyebrow, “Did you really not see that coming?”
“I can’t believe I’d forgotten how gross you are. Certainly did not need the reminder,” he tore off his glove, shaking out the leather as if that’d somehow shake off the leftover saliva.
“Why are you the one complaining? You had gloves on, I’m the one who’s stuck with the taste of leather on my tongue.” It was a perfectly reasonable complaint, and Chuuya had no grounds for his responding look.
“Don’t fault me for your own bad decisions, idiot,” Chuuya scowled at him and took a few steps forward. Dazai grinned as the redhead faltered, recalling that he did not, in fact, know where to go. His scowl deepened.
Dazai took his time as he led them through the city, passing by various tourist marks and following roundabout detours. He even swindled Chuuya into buying him a dapper little crab cake along the way. He’d only finished half of it when he’d decided it wasn’t as good as the canned version, the remaining half fed to the fishes when he’d tossed it into the river. Dazai would’ve gone with it— he wondered if water from the Thames would sit differently in his lungs? He’d have to test that out sometime— if Chuuya hadn’t grabbed hold of him at the last second. It was with a moping exterior he finally led them to the Leaky Caldron.
“We’re here,” he finally announced, eyeing the place from across the street, “This is where we’ll be staying for the next few days.” While he’d never actually been to the place, Dazai had read enough books to know of its location. That and its lack of presence to those without magic.
“What the hell are you pointing at?” Dazai felt coyness abound.
Chuuya’s eyes seemed to roll over the pub, frustration clearly mounting. “Can’t you see it?” Dazai chimed.
Chuuya scoffed, arms crossed in petulance as a stroke of absolute genius was bestowed upon him. “This is some magic bullshit, isn’t it?”
“Really? I thought a slug was just going blind for a minute there.” Even as he said that, Dazai had already taken the first steps towards the establishment, leading his partner along past the muggle-repelling illusions.
“Or maybe you’ve jumped in one too many rivers, the lack of oxygen has clearly been getting to you. So what exactly…” the mafioso trailed off as they passed the threshold, the inside of the pub quiet, yet clearly populated. “Oh that is so fucking weird.”
A dull throb began to play at the inside of his skull, a pressure in the air sinking into awareness. Dazai had not missed this.
The interior of the place was quiet, small groups huddled off to the side, barren space Dazai could tell was not used to being so. Furtive glances were sent up to the new duo, their formal muggle attire catching the eyes of the regulars. He beckoned Chuuya along behind him, weaving his way towards the pub’s back alley.
“This place is more depressing than you,” Chuuya announced once they’d left the prickly gazes, sending disconcerted glances at the door they’d exited.
“It’s just some local political turmoil, don’t worry about it.” Dazai thrust his hand out toward the other expectably, and with a roll of his eyes Chuuya took Dazai’s wand from their bags and placed it in his palm. He tapped a pattern into the bricks with the stick and watched as they unfurled before him.
Chuuya eyed the opening with distrust, eyes flitting to the nonsensical buildings that lined the path forward. “Those certainly don’t look stable. They seem like they’re one pulled brick from collapsing.”
“Haven’t you knocked down enough buildings back home? Does the thought of demolition really take up what little brains you have? Such a brute!” Dazai walked through the entrance, Chuuya quick to follow as he led them down the street. There were few people about, a somber atmosphere overtaking a place he had no doubt would carry an aura of whimsy any other time.
“It’s not my fault if these buildings don’t follow the basic laws of physics. It’s like an earthquake happened and no one bothered to fix the foundations,” Chuuya griped, still scanning the strange place. “What’s our first stop?”
“You’ll see.”
They garnered odd looks as they pushed forward, suspicion and curiosity at two muggle-fashioned individuals, the formality of their outfits pulling eyes towards them. It wasn’t the most discreet method of travel, but Dazai hated Western wizarding robes with a passion and wasn’t about to subject himself to that. Though he wouldn’t mind forcing Chuuya into some, the entertainment value of that would certainly be worthwhile.
He visibly perked up when a fanciful white structure came into view, making a bee-line for its side of the street. Dazai approached the looming building without the trepidation Chuuya held behind him, quickly cataloging the sight as they entered, the goblin stationed outside eyeing them. It was funny watching Chuuya try not to stare.
“Well that’s dramatic,” Chuuya murmured as they passed the doors, scanning the warning engraved on it.
“I’ve heard goblins have a flair for it,” Dazai voiced just before the tellers came into view. Chuuya’s resounding attempt to wrap his head around the words wasn’t audible behind him, but he could sense it anyway. He approached the front desks, the goblin sat there glaring warily at him. “Hello there, I’d like to exchange some muggle money for galleons,” he said in English, “Do you accept yen?”
The goblin looked at him with further distaste, “We do. The current exchange rate is 950.39 yen for one galleon. I’ll need your name and how much you want to exchange.”
“Put it under Osamu Dazai. And why don’t we start it off with a nice million,” Dazai spurred Chuuya with a glance backwards. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t complain as he pulled the amount from his bag. Chuuya then watched as the goblin snatched the money from him, the redhead barely stifling his indignance, at the lack of manners. The hint of vindication from said goblin certainly didn’t help that.
Chuuya’s annoyances were relegated into harsh grumbles as the teller returned with their bag of galleons.
“That’ll be 1,052 galleons, three sickles, and fifteen knuts,” the goblin threw the pouch onto the table, leaning a considerable distance back as Dazai speedily swept up the funds. He waved a slapdash thanks behind him.
Exiting the bank, Chuuya yanked the bag from his hands— notably having had to stand on his tip-toes to do it— and peeked inside. “Are these solid gold?” he asked as he held up a large, golden coin.
“Yep, wizard currency tends to be old-fashioned in that way,” he so dutifully explained, “But with it, we’ll be able to book a room.”
“At the pub, right? The Dripping Cauldron or whatever.”
“The Leaky Cauldron, but yes,” Dazai corrected, “Though I was thinking we should explore a bit before we turn in, we are tourists, after all!”
“We’re here on business, you bandage freak.”
“Oh come on, aren’t you curious? And have you never heard of casing a place?” Dazai flicked the other’s hat.
Chuuya slapped his hand away. “Fine! What sorts of shops does this place have anyway? It looks pretty dead around here,” he grumbled, the street around them sparse of company. “A lot of these places seem closed.”
“I will admit we’ve probably caught the area at a bad time, but I did see a rather interesting shop on our way in,” he guided the, unjustly suspicious, redhead forward a bit.
“We’re not buying anything,” Chuuya intoned, but gave in anyway. It looked like his tiny partner was a little more curious than he let on.
Dazai took in the Alley as they traversed it, taking in the signs of vandalism and general turmoil of the place. It made for a stark difference when a certain shop came into view.
Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was emblazoned on its front, color absolutely bursting from its windows, one of which held an immensely amusing sign.
WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?
YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO —
THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION!
Dazai could appreciate the audacity.
“Who’re they insulting in that sign? It’s gotta be someone important with the gawks it’s getting,” Chuuya asked.
“Remember what I said about the political turmoil?” Dazai hinted. Chuuya gave an understanding hum.
“Of course it’s about politics,” he rolled his eyes. Dazai didn’t dissuade him from the notion.
The shop was the one spot on the street that actually seemed lively, customers spotted entering and exiting with their wares, a pep to the step of the younger patrons. Chuuya needed no instruction as they both set their feet in its direction.
“What does this place even sell?” Chuuya asked as they finally made their way inside, a small bustle showing good business.
“Can’t you tell? There are all manner of pranks, practical jokes, and magical gags to be had here!” Dazai said, pointing out a gaggle of children who were watching a bespelled doll walk itself to the gallows. “Just look at that one! What a lovely suicide technique! An absolute classic— though the noose could use a little work, it’s a little on the thin side.” Reading the description of the item made it even better— apparently the thing was reusable.
“You are such a child,” Chuuya muttered, but Dazai’s partner’s attention was taken by the various wonders around them. A second later Chuuya let out a snort, approaching a back corner of the shop. “Hey Dazai, these things are all used for magic tricks— the non-wizard kind.” Chuuya picked up a set of rings, twisting and crossing them together until they linked up, each inside the other.
“That was impressive!” came a voice from behind them, a twist of their heads revealing the approach of another redhead. “We don’t get many customers who actually know how to use these things over here. You sure you didn’t cheat with a bit of magic? Wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
Chuuya raised an eyebrow, switching to his slightly-accented English as he replied, “This is one of the easiest tricks in the book. It doesn’t really have much going on.” His partner took the strung-together loops, passing them over each other a few times before they were, once again, separate.
“Well, it looks like you certainly don’t need my help with the thing, you know how to use it quite well! I’m sure this set would be a fine little party trick if you’re looking to practice some outside of this place.”
Dazai chuckled, drawing the attention of the store clerk. “Wow, that’s your first audience member! It seems an old dog really can learn new tricks.”
“Stop calling me a dog!”
“Oh? Did you think I was addressing you?” he instigated, “I’m happy to know you’re finally accepting your title as my dog!”
“Keep pushing it and I’ll show you some new tricks,” Chuuya growled— much like a certain canine species would— holding up a threatening fist. A laugh interrupted Dazai’s oncoming throttling.
“I like you two!” the store clerk continued, “I can tell we’re kindred spirits— have you ever happened to indulge in a bit of pranking before?”
“Oh yeah, all the time!” Dazai boasted, “We used to spiral into prank wars when we were teenagers— I’ll let you know I won most of them.”
“Tell that to the flower incident,” Chuuya jabbed back and Dazai’s smile stretched a bit at the edges, “You were sneezing up pollen for weeks after that one.”
“That was technically a backfire, you didn’t do anything.”
Chuuya gave him a smug look, “That’s not how I remember it.” Dazai narrowed his eyes, but he could tell that Chuuya had already caught the slightest flush of red to his ears.
“I can sense a story there,” the intruding redhead glanced between the two of them, seemingly reveling in the brewing mischief.
Chuuya barked a laugh, “Yeah, I got this guy’s hex to backfire. He tried to bespell a plant to take up my room, but I scared him shitless in the middle of the spell. The flower may have died, but it went out in a cloud of pollen-filled glory.”
“We got into so much trouble after that,” Dazai shook his head, “Way to ruin all my fun.”
“Yeah right, you bastard.”
Their conversational outsider laughed. “Well that sounds like some good fun. Considering I’ve never heard of your exploits, I’m guessing you didn’t go to Hogwarts?”
“Ah no, I went to Mahoutokoro over in Japan,” Dazai admitted with a sheepish grin, “I’ve just got some business in the area and decided to visit.”
Chuuya twitched at the namedrop. Dazai did recall mentioning something or other about a magic school in the country when they were younger, but he’d never done it by name. Well, it wasn’t like Dazai had much attachment to the place considering he’d dropped out rather quickly. Clearly unlike the man in front of him, who’d spoken his own school with a glimmer of pride.
“I’ve heard they’ve got a good quidditch team, yeah?” the clerk commented.
“And I think our quidditch team was alright, though I wasn’t really into sports,” he shrugged. “My time was taken up annoying this little guy,” he rested his elbow on the other’s head, receiving a kick to his shins in retaliation.
“Get off of me!”
He gasped, holding his abused leg, “So violent!”
“Oh!” the clerk chimed back in, “I’ve just realized I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Fred Weasley, one of the owners of this fine shop.”
“And what a magnificent shop it is. I’m Osamu Dazai, and the short stack over here is Chuuya Nakahara,” he responded.
“Who’re you calling short,” his partner futilely protested, and his shin throbbed in anticipation. Dazai ignored it, squeezing his fingers together as he mouthed a tiny at the other man.
That got another chuckle from the store owner— Fred now, he supposed. “Well, if you ever want to get back into the business of pranking, we have all you could ever think of in supplies! And if you want any suggestions, I’ll direct you to some of our new releases in the front left corner of the store. Stay safe out there!”
“You too,” he waved goodbye at the other, watching him meet up with a gaggle of other redheads. He browsed a bit more, taking in the admittedly creative tricks the shop was selling. That was when he spotted a trio of students, conspiratory whispers being traded as they seemed to be watching something. This was going to be interesting.
***
Chuuya noticed the moment Dazai shifted. His eyes just barely narrowed, glances disguised as perusing the store’s stock. But no, Dazai’s attention was being drawn to a group of three, who in turn were sending fervid glances out the window. He hadn’t caught what they were staring at, but the one with glasses tugged some sort of cloth from his bag. A moment later and they vanished beneath the thing. Dazai scratched his cheek, two seconds later letting his right hand fall into his pocket. Chuuya could recognize their old code.
Follow them his unspoken words.
“I’m going to do some more shopping, I’ll pick you up later,” he announced for anyone privy enough to be within listening distance. Dumping the luggage he’d been carrying on Dazai’s weak shoulders, he slowly made his way towards a door that’d just opened to nothing. On the street again, his steps were measured as he scanned the alley. The slightest slip of a bodiless foot or two gave him direction, and he watched as three pairs of steps poked out from beneath whatever object was giving those kids invisibility.
Chuuya let that little beacon guide him, making his way down the unfamiliar streets, the rooftops and alleys of this place lacking in the familiar vantage points he could find back home. Or in any major city. He sighed. Chuuya settled with trailing them from a ways away.
They wound through the streets, Chuuya making sure to keep track of the turns he took as they seemed to trek onto a darker path. The few faces he passed gave him dirty looks, eyeing him with suspicion. It reminded him of some of the areas in Suribachi city, dark, grimy places. Rife with criminal activity and all sorts of filthy behavior. While he’d usually be able to slide right into the flow in any other part of the world, he stuck out like a sore thumb here. Fucking wizards.
Eventually, the road was deserted all together. He saw his subjects of interest slow, and he let his own steps settle as he peeked around a corner. Chuuya turned his gaze upwards. Too visible, too unsteady— there, his eyes narrowed. With a small leap, he used tainted to traverse the side of one of these unstable-looking buildings, making his way to a small overhang he could watch from.
Chuuya couldn’t see much, and he didn’t quite know where the trio’s focus would be at— with the whole being invisible thing, he thought that could be excused— but he could take a guess. From his vantage point, he could see through a few of the storefronts. While most looked like they’d never seen the end of a duster, there was one that stood out. Mainly because it was the only one that had any people in it.
There was a blonde kid and some shady looking guy talking. Said blonde kid shifted, and he raised an eyebrow. That was an attempt at a threatening stance if there ever was one— attempt being the key word. There was a shaky intention, and a stiff follow through, but the other party in that conversation looked sufficiently cowed. It kinda reminded him of how some of the younger members of the Sheep would act, trying to follow in the older kid’s footsteps. Whoever this was definitely seemed out of his depth. The rest of the interaction remained uneventful.
Sufficiently satisfied, Chuuya found his way back to the joke shop.
***
Eventually, Chuuya dragged Dazai away from his new favorite shop, thankfully not making too much of a scene. There was a scene of course— it being Dazai, of course there was a scene— but it was somewhat tamer than usual. His suspicion only compounded at Dazai’s odd silence after he’d let him rent them a room, a task that was his for the sole reason of him being an actual wizard. Chuuya hadn’t know in which way he’d regret it until he’d opened the door.
“Why’s there only one bed?” he grimaced, that being only his first gripe with the room. It was just so… dingy, the full size bed in the center certainly not adding to the picture.
Honestly, the state of the bar should have been enough to clue him in.
“Chibi’s just spoiled,” replied Dazai with a flippant shut of the door, immediately letting himself crash onto the sheets. “And have you ever thought of maybe saving money? I know that’s a foreign concept to you.”
“And who’d ever wanna live like you? You ever heard of a standard quality of living?” he snorted, approaching the bed. “Now, if there’s only one of these, you can take the floor,” Chuuya said before kicking him off. The thump as he hit the floor was immensely satisfying, the groan that followed even more so.
“And have you ever heard the phrase ‘sharing is caring’?” he whined, still face down against the floorboards.
“Not involving you it’s not,” Chuuya said as he tossed their sparse luggage on the bed. They’d only brought two bags, both of which he’d ended up carrying because of Dazai’s lazy ass.
Dazai’s groan was his only response.
As Chuuya shuffled through their bags, Dazai remained silent, a quiet falling over the room. After a few minutes, he sent a suspicious glance at the man.
He laid still, nearly corpse-like if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of his breath. Should he prod? No. No, he should definitely not. Dazai was a mess of a person to deal with on the best of days, and to tell the truth, he was far too out of practice for this. Chuuya would not interact.
It only took another twenty minutes of silence for him to give in.
“What’s up with you?” Dazai gave no response. Another person might’ve thought he’d fallen asleep like that, dead to the world like Dazai had always wished. He just so happened to be Chuuya Nakahara though, and had the unfortunate knowhow to clue in that the bastard was listening to him just fine. “Hey, mackerel, I’m talking to you.” He accentuated his words with one of their two pillows aimed at his torso.
Dazai let out a grunt, immediately dragging the downed pillow over his ears. “Stop barking already, can’t you see I’m trying to get some sleep?”
“You? Choosing to sleep for once?” he voiced incredulously, “Is the world about to end, or something?”
“If you really want to know,” came muffled from the brunette, “I’m thinking.”
Chuuya paused at that. Dazai was always thinking, literally always. It was one of the most infuriating things about the scumbag, the chess pawns he’d make of people the second he’d laid eyes on them, pieces you’d’ve never thought of shifting in the background with every interaction. What the hell was on his mind for Dazai to actually admit to putting thought into something?
Chuuya didn’t poke the bear for the rest of the afternoon, Dazai content to his space on the floor as Chuuya did a cursory overview of the sparse room. There wasn’t much else to do, so he dragged out his laptop. He hadn’t forgotten Dazai’s complaint of technology’s refusal to cooperate in the presence of magic— some of Dazai’s pranks when they’d been teenagers had been a testament to that— but it didn’t make opening up his laptop to a constantly glitching mess fun. He spent a good half an hour cussing the thing out before there was a knock on the door.
He sent a sideways glance at the heap on the floor, then sighed as he stood up.
“Hello? Do you need anything?” Chuuya asked in accented English as he opened the door. A bald guy he recognized as the barman and apparent owner of the place stood before him, a letter in hand.
“This came for a Mister O-sa-mu,” he read off the thing, “Is he in? I’d reckon he’d like to read it.”
Chuuya couldn’t hold back a twitch at the use of Dazai’s first name. A rare occurrence, truly. “He’s out right now,” moping on the floor in a wonderful use of his time, he resisted adding. “I’ll be sure to get it to him,” he eventually finished, holding out a hand to take it.
The man stared for a moment before hesitantly handing him the letter. “Right, and be sure to let him know we have no responsibility for any lost mail,” he prompted, “But be sure to enjoy your stay!”
Turning back to the room had him nearly startling at Dazai’s deadlocked stare, head peeking over the edge of the bed now that he’d sat up.
“Were you expecting a letter?” he asked, turning over the parchment— parchment, definitely a wizard then— pausing at the kanji accompanying the English addressal. “Who’s Tsushima Shuuji?”
“I am,” a hand snatched the letter from his grasp. It was almost surprising to see the glare Dazai aimed at the thing. That level of hatred didn’t often spark within the other, the only other person Chuuya had ever seen it directed towards being Mori.
“An alias of yours?” he tried as he watched Dazai tear open the thing.
“I guess you could say that.” Dazai read through the letter, and Chuuya caught an irritated flex of his fingers.
“You guess?” Chuuya pushed, raising an eyebrow.
“I mean it’s the name I was born with, if you want to go that route,” he shrugged as if he hadn’t just dropped one of the most personal details to his past in recent history.
“Your real name’s Tsushima Shuuji?”
“That is what I just said. And don’t call me that,” Dazai made a face, “I haven’t gone by that in years.”
“Right…” he trailed off, peeking over to glance at the contents of the page. Shuuji, it was surprising when I received your letter, I— Dazai lifted the parchment out of view. Chuuya huffed and cursed his completely-average height. “Who’s it from?” he eventually asked.
“My mother.” He didn’t know how Dazai had kept a straight face.
“Your what now?” Chuuya exclaimed, giving him a bewildered look. “Since when have you had a mother?”
“Unless you’re counting Sigma, I do believe that is something most people have,” he said dryly, still scanning the letter.
He rolled his eyes, “It’s just hard to imagine there’s someone out there that managed to spawn you of all people.”
“Well, she sure as hell didn’t plan for it,” Dazai muttered bitterly.
Oh? Chuuya sensed a bit of hostility there. “And you need her for the trial? Is that why you wrote her?”
“Proof of identity, so to speak,” he elaborated, “And while you can connect me back to the name ‘Dazai Osamu’, she has all my original records considering I never got my name legally changed. I am trying to go about this the right way to ingratiate certain parties, after all.”
“Of course,” Chuuya let out. He didn't pry any further. He was curious, sure, but sometimes when it came to Dazai, things were better left buried. Dazai’s carefully blank expression said as much.
Though he wasn't sure how much he could keep that up the further they got into this mission.