From Unexpected Places

Chuuya was going to have an aneurysm.

Married, he played back, hoping his ears had given out on him. The bastard just said they were married.

His grip on Dazai was crippling. Chuuya had no doubt that if Dazai wasn’t currently nullifying his ability, he’d have crushed the ground beneath them. Through Chuuya’s bludgeoning hold, Dazai strained through another squeeze of his own. A warning. A taunt.

Right. Of course the piece of shit would find a way to tie it back to this stupid mission. Well, as much as Dazai enjoyed fucking with him, he was not going to give the fucker the pleasure of seeing him crack. He could do this.

Taking a deep breath, Chuuya rolled his shoulders back. He wasn’t going to give the mackerel room to fantasize about him blowing his fucking top. He’d get what was coming to him after this stupid fucking trial was done with.

“They’re married?” the witch who’d questioned them before asked, somewhat bewildered. And how could he blame her? Chuuya and Dazai sure as fuck didn’t look compatible.

“Yes, yes,” Scrimgeour nodded, “Mr. Tsushima here sent in the relevant documents beforehand to ensure his husband could be in attendance.”

Oh that fucking bastard.

Whispers broke out behind him, Chuuya catching stray flings of gossip, the word muggle more often than not popping up. The Wizengamot in particular still seemed to be recovering from Dazai’s revelation. A select few had the impression of shellshock struck across their faces, flickering their gazes over the spectacle they made. Chuuya would usually have felt a bit of pity for the souls stuck with shitty Dazai’s absurdity, but they’d yet to stop eyeing him.

They could go to hell for all he cared.

“Mr. Nakahara,” the Minister finally addressed him. “If you would formally state your name and background for the record, as well as your relationship to Mr. Tsushima.”

“I go by Osamu Dazai, sir,” Dazai piped up. Because of course he did.

The Minister leveled him a vexed look, “You were not asked to speak.”

“Just thought I should correct you,” Dazai, infuriating bastard that he was, shrugged. Chuuya thought a fist to the head might knock a little sense into it, but that mental case was far too gone for that to work. Trust him, he’d tried.

Scrimgeour looked incensed, and in the name of damage control, he stepped in.

“My name is Chuuya Nakahara, I’m twenty-three years old and from Yokohama, Japan,” he started, the court’s attention flickering back to him, “And I’m his… husband.” It took all Chuuya’s willpower not to make a face at the word.

“Thank you Mr. Nakahara. As Ms. Tsushima noted, Mr. Tsu—” a cough from Dazai. “Mr. Dazai,” the minister corrected with a glare in the mentioned man’s direction, “Had dropped out of Mahoutokoro and had presumably removed himself from the wizarding world at a young age. In what circumstances did you meet?”

The cover story they’d cobbled together should still be fine, even if he somehow had to spin a romantic tryst into it. He thought for a second. “We met when we were fifteen— Dazai had been a runaway and I let him stay with my family for a while. One thing led to another and we ended up dating and then getting married a few years later. He told me about the wizard stuff pretty soon after.”

“Of course. And how informed are you, exactly, of the circumstances of Dazai’s magical heritage and his status as a wizard?”

Chuuya shrugged, “Dazai doesn’t like to bring it up all too often— reasonable, if you ask me, considering he’d left it all behind— but he does do some occasional magic around me. Mostly things involving pranks or chores, if at all.” He glanced at the faces of the Wizengamot, the attention of different interpretations yet grating all the same. “With all due respect,” Chuuya led, “What does our relationship have to do with the accusations against Dazai?”

Ugh, any verbal implication of his and Dazai’s apparent relationship tasted foul on his tongue. Dazai had a faint triumph on display at the notion which only made it worse.

“It was just a precautionary measure,” the man seemed put out, eyes narrowed towards his documents like Chuuya had done anything but try to keep this trial on fucking track. “Though, in light of your status as spouses, any acts of magic performed solely before you do not break the Statute of Secrecy. Obliviation of yourself will not be necessary.”

Chuuya did not relax at the news. For as much as Dazai’s ploy just assured it wouldn’t be happening, the idea of these stupid wizards wiping his fucking memory was quick to sour. He didn’t need any more fingers clawing their way into his head.

“To discuss the other charges against Mr. Dazai, we will first review the reported events that occurred on May 12th of this year at a high-profile muggle prison located in France.” That got them a few wary looks. “Due to a refusal of cooperation from the muggle government, the exact charges for the imprisonment of Osamu Dazai are unknown.

“An influx of magic was picked up at two a.m. CET at this muggle establishment. French Aurors responded to the scene, but were impeded by muggle authorities. After eventually bypassing them, one-hundred sixty-seven muggle soldiers and guards were found dead at the scene. Of the survivors questioned, reports of an individual single-handedly taking out the guards using fantastical abilities were a commonality among the majority. Further details of the witness statements were left unreleased by the French Ministry under the request of the U.N.

“Dazai Osamu,” Scrimgeour finally addressed, “As the only recorded wizard at the scene, you are under suspicion as the perpetrator of this incident. What is your defense?”

Dazai was slouched slightly forward, Chuuya’s hand still locked with his. He had an air of boredom about him, slight enough not to be commented upon, but just on the side of off-putting. “I’ll admit to the use of magic in front of muggles,” Dazai shrugged, “But I’ll have you know it was in self defense. The murder, though, wasn’t me. My husband can testify to that much.”

“That is preposterous!” a woman stood, her judicial robes swaying with the harsh movement, “You cannot think we’ll believe anything but magic was at fault for this incident. We have eye witness statements of supernatural occurrences and records of magic at the scene. Who else could it have been?”

“Now, now,” an older woman spoke up, a pinched look to her face as she kept her eyes trained on Dazai, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. Let the young man speak his case.”

The Minister watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, letting the first woman heatedly sink back into her chair. He cleared his throat before asking, “Would you mind recounting your version of the incident, then? Though I find it important you also elaborate on why you were imprisoned there in the first place.”

“Of course,” Dazai agreed, popping up to attention. Chuuya couldn’t wait to see how he was going to spin that one. “You see, I was falsely imprisoned due to accusations of terrorism on my place of work. While it’s all been sorted out and the true perpetrators have been identified, the detective agency I work for was framed by a terrorist group. I just so happened to be arrested before it was cleared up.”

Another round of whispers kicked at the edges of the room. Incredulousness was a common tone.

“And this narrative has evidence to support its factuality?”

“It does.” Chuuya turned at the entry of that voice, Dazai’s hand twitching against his. Dazai’s mother pulled a stack of papers from her satchel. “The Japanese government provided an official pardon. May I approach?” Scrimgeour nodded and Tane Tsushima passed the papers to him before returning to her seat.

“Alright, this does add to your credibility,” he admitted after a minute, looking over the materials. “You may proceed with your recount.”

Dazai began, “I was in the middle of a visit with Chuuya here when all sorts of alarms went off. It was unfortunate considering it was the first I’d seen of him since I’d been arrested.” Dazai played up the dejectedness, slumping in on himself as he tugged Chuuya’s hand against his chest. He was really trying to sell it, wasn’t he?

With a hidden resignation, Chuuya put in his own two cents. Two could play at that game, after all. “Yeah, I booked a flight as soon as I realized Osamu—” Dazai’s breath gave a near inaudible hitch, “— got himself arrested. It was hell trying to get the right to visit him. And then as soon as I finally manage to see him, shit starts going down.”

A few members of the jury looked confused. “You witnessed the events?” an elderly man asked.

“Yep,” Chuuya confirmed, adjusting the badge with ‘witness’ engraved on it he’d gotten as he’d entered this place. “That was sent in with the marriage documents, right?” he muttered for show to the mummy clinging to his arm, its volume just enough to reach the nearest parties.

Dazai returned a soft nod, folding his other hand over Chuuya’s to encase it. As much as he hated being the one in this situation, he could admit that was a nice touch to the act. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the once bored reporter frantically scribbling on a roll of parchment. A few of their sparse audience had the spark of sympathy beginning to bloom behind their eyes. While the Wizengamot still sat speculatively, Chuuya could spot similar stirrings taking root.

“Yes, Mr. Nakahara was approved as a witness for this trial,” Scrimgeour confirmed. “If you will continue?”

“Right. So there were alarms going off and the guards hurried to get me back to my cell while a bunch of others went to respond to whatever the breach was. Apparently, someone was staging a breakout from the outside. They’d just separated me and Chuuya when out of nowhere, two of the guards were shot in front of me. I didn’t want to end up like them, so I ran to find Chuuya since I was loose now.”

“Wait a moment,” the accusatory woman from before raised a hand, “Who shot the guards?”

“I didn’t get the chance to see, ma’am,” Dazai answered, “Chuuya was still in the building and I was busy running for my own life after what I’d just witnessed.”

“Other than the danger you say persisted, for what reason did you use magic? As much as your story claims some sort of external chaos, traces of magic significant enough to be picked up by the French ministry exceed any minor magic.”

“I was getting to that,” Dazai pointed out, “But if you want the basic list of the magic I used…” Dazai finally dropped his hand as he began to count off, “I stopped a falling elevator from bringing me certain death or injury, I shielded myself from some bullets, I examined the memories of a couple of knocked out guards in order to find where Chuuya went, and when it was all over decided to clean myself up a bit because it had been an awful day.” He turned up towards the Wizengamot, “I believe it’s your turn to ask questions?”

Dazai fielded the eyes of the Wizengamot with a witty grace, twisting their visitation day into a fleshed out story that had them as bystanders to a chaotic prison break they’d lived through by the skin of their teeth. Somewhat impressive considering they were half of the prison break’s coordinators in reality. Chuuya imagined it was helped by the fact that Dazai was mostly honest about his uses of magic, even if the context was shifted. He really had gone all out in his game with Dostoevsky.

“Let’s say your story does make sense,” a wizard offered, “That still leaves the true perpetrator to this large scale massacre, as well as what the surviving guards claimed they witnessed. No single muggle is capable of that.”

That was another thing that irked Chuuya about this all— these guys seemed to have no clue about the type of prisoners Meursault actually held. That’s to say, ability users weren’t even a part of the conversation. He could probably blame the U.N.’s touchiness on the subject for not releasing that information, but was the Wizengamot really that clueless? And what about the French wizards who were investigating this first?

“You’ll have to take that up with the U.N., I do hear they named a perpetrator, though I’m not privy to any of the details.”

Scrimgeour’s face pinched. “We were not informed of this development.”

“Oh please,” the witch who’d stood against Dazai earlier interrupted, “Is there any evidence other than your word on this topic? Even if the muggle government had put the blame on someone, muggles are ignorant to wizarding capabilities, and are therefore working without the necessary knowledge for a case such as this.”

“Really? From what I remember, there are some wizarding ministries that allow more than one person in the government to know about wizards to help with relations and incidents like these. Japan, for example,” Dazai claimed, speaking as if it were general knowledge. “With the international and highly classified state of the prison, it’s more likely than not there are some magic-aware muggles who were informed of the breakout and acted accordingly.”

“Even if there were, what makes them qualified to discern issues of magical origin?” she shot back. “They should’ve let the proper wizards do their work.”

“And what does that make the French Aurors originally tasked with my case? They clearly had the wrong idea.”

“The disrespect!” she grit out, “I’ll have you know—”

“Order!” Scrimgeour bellowed, the word echoing through the court. They both fell silent. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Dazai’s gaze flickered off to the side. Towards his mother, Chuuya noted. “We can address that topic later. First, I’d like to ask if Mr. Nakahara has anything else to add about the situation.”

“Sure,” he agreed with ease. For the most part, he lined up his story with the events Dazai had narrated just moments before, filling in the gaps. Chuuya guessed there were some parts of this narrative Dazai had left for him to flesh out, so he chose to contribute an unflattering moment or two of Dazai’s. That along with a description of the freakshow of a clown the was with the Decay of Angels. If they were ever given the chance to look closer into those witness statements, it’d be good to have on record they also acknowledged it. If he was lucky enough, Dazai would have found a way to scrub him from the records— he’d no doubt already managed to do it for himself.

It went on like this for a while. Questions on the incident, antagonism bated and shut down as they worked their crafted version of the events into reality.

The stares never really stopped, eyes nagging at his attention, a haunted glance or two directed at Dazai and his mother from select parties. It was clear there was some history here. Recognition was definitely there, though it was more concrete when looking at Tsushima Tane, mother of Dazai. He wondered what sort of past she had to have with this place— she had said an English name when pronouncing Dazai’s father, hadn’t she? (Dazai’s father surely wasn’t a phrase Chuuya thought he’d ever have to ponder). What was it again? Tim? Thomas? Right— Tom Riddle.

What a weird ass name. He was glad Dazai hadn’t ended up with it.

Eventually, in a feat Chuuya hadn’t thought possible for a criminal case of this magnitude, the Wizengamot presented their ruling.

“Not guilty,” Scrimgeour boomed, and apparently that was it. Their sparse but engaged audience filed out of the room, Dazai sweeping himself and Chuuya out with them.

Shouldn’t there be more? Chuuya wasn’t well-versed in legal systems, but weren’t there things like initial hearings or appeals? Temporary holding before a trial or bail postings? Anything more than a single fucking trial. Chuuya wasn’t complaining, but wow, the wizarding system really was fucked.

Chuuya let out a breath as they finally exited the courtroom, only just holding back the urge to slump over himself. Mafia negotiations were a walk in the park compared to that shitshow (even if the simplicity of it gave the impression of a sham). Not that Chuuya’d know anything about the typical legal processes, but even he could tell the wizards were shit at it.

“Well, would you look at that, chibi. Everything went well!” Dazai smiled at him. Chuuya wanted to punch his lights out. He settled for keeping a flat expression. Their observers could easily paint it as exhaustion if they so chose, but that little twitch in his apparent husband’s smile let him know the mackerel read him like a middle schooler’s chess match.

“Or something like it,” he muttered. “I wonder if…” Chuuya trailed off as he caught someone approaching from their left, also having left the courtroom. “Dazai.”

Dazai let his steps slow, not bothering to look even as the man approached.

“Mr. Dazai,” the old man called out, beard swaying slightly with the movement. Dazai stopped, turning with an amicable smile on his face, a questioning set to his stance. “I was hoping I could have a word with you and your husband.”

Chuuya bristled. He didn’t like the look of this guy, an odd inflection in his voice as he glanced at Chuuya. It was the Gandalf knock-off he’d seen in the audience earlier.

“What do you want?” Chuuya said bluntly.

The man chuckled genially, brushing off Chuuya’s reception with a twinkle in his eye. “No, no, my boy,” Chuuya’s eye twitched at the address, “I’m not looking for anything. My approach is nothing more than the whims of an old man. My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the headmaster of Hogwarts, our local wizarding school.” He held his left hand out, and it took Dazai shaking it for Chuuya to realize what was happening. He complied with the mirrored handshake, noticing the man’s right was hidden in the sleeve of his robe.

“I’d introduce myself, but I’m sure you’re aware of our names with that whole business,” Dazai made a vague gesture towards the courtroom at their back.

“That I do, Mr. Dazai and Nakahara,” he nodded to them both. “I wanted to talk to you since I hadn’t been aware young Tom Riddle ever had children. I taught your father when he was younger, you see. I’d like to believe I knew him quite well.”

“Well, that makes one of us!” Dazai’s grin widened, “I never knew the man myself, my mother had already moved back to Japan before I’d been born.”

“Ah, I'm sad to hear that.” There was a touch of suspicion in his words, an assessing glint in his eye. Glancing to his partner, he found Dazai’s smile had turned perfectly pleasant. “Perchance, did your mother happen to tell you where he ended up?” the man prodded, “I lost touch with him after he graduated. Though he was a very bright student, if a bit… misguided at times. You have his eyes, you know.”

“I believe my mother mentioned the last fact, but I really haven’t heard anything else. Though you’re free to ask her, if you’d like. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she is in the area.”

“That I have, my boy. That I have,” the wizard gave a hearty chuckle. “The Tsushima’s are a rather well-known family in Japan, aren’t they?”

“Kinda, they just have a lot of history there,” Dazai brushed off, “However, speaking of my family, you wouldn’t happen to know if I have any more in the area? It’s alright if you don’t, I was just wondering since you said you’d known my father. I mean, I am half a British wizard, right? Thought I’d learn at least a little bit of my heritage while I’m in the area.”

Where was Dazai going with this? Chuuya had just gotten the bare minimum on his mother, and now this old guy was asking about Dazai’s father? Chuuya hadn’t even known Dazai wasn’t fully Japanese until today, though it made a sort of sense now why exactly Dazai had wanted the trial to be in the U.K.

“Unfortunately, Tom Riddle was an orphan. I hope that doesn’t make your visit here on solely negative terms, though,” Dumbledore piped up, “There is still a lot of sightseeing to do in the area.”

“Yeah, we did already visit some of the normal tourist attractions like Big Ben and the castle,” Chuuya added. Like hell was he going to let Dazai be the only participant in this conversation.

“But you’ve yet to see the wizarding side much! Wizarding Britain is, after all, a place with some of the most established wizarding roots in the world. Have you visited Diagon Alley yet? It is quite a staple of the area.”

“Yep! We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron at the moment, so we spent an afternoon walking around it. It wasn’t as lively as I’d expected, which was kind of disappointing.” Dazai’s gave a dramatic pout.

Dumbledore hummed. “Don’t be too put off by it, we’ve just run upon some more difficult times as of late. I’m sure you’ve heard something of it back in Japan.”

“I don’t really keep up with wizarding news,” Dazai shrugged, looking as if he didn’t give a damn about these ‘hard times’. Considering the man had mentioned something or other about the turmoil in the area, that was a bold-faced lie.

Well, if Dazai wasn’t going to give him a straight answer, he might as well get it from someone else. “What exactly is happening?” Chuuya asked, and Dumbledore’s gaze flickered back to him.

“Ah, I suppose it wouldn’t be common knowledge to many foreigners, much less muggle ones,” he commented, tugging a hand over his beard. “There was an extremist faction who believed in the superiority of magical bloodlines over muggle ones. It resulted in a war that ended about sixteen years ago, though currently it’s seeing a resurgence with the return of its leader.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t say he was surprised at the revelation that some of these magical pricks thought they were better than non-magical people. Even during the trial Chuuya had been treated like an outsider even with his and Dazai’s manufactured tie of the knot.

“So they’re wizard supremacists?” he summed up.

“I’m afraid so,” Dumbledore addressed him. That glimmer in his eye seemed to focus and Chuuya took a second to blink. “If you were amicable to it, I wouldn’t mind holding a discussion on it. With your trip here, it would be best to be informed of the dangers. I’d hate to see you or your husband run into something you weren’t prepared for with your lack of familiarity with the area.” A metaphorical spike between his eyes took his breath and he drew a dry swallow of air.

Blood rushed through his ears, and the dreaded cacophony of Arahabaki surged with a vengeance. His teeth ground together, and he was reminded of a moment during the trial, when he’d locked eyes with this very same man. What was this fucker trying to pull?

Relief came at the winding of Dazai’s arm around his waist, the skin of his fingers skimming his bare wrist with the motion. As Chuuya’s head cleared, he caught Dumbledore smoothing out a crinkle between his brows. A wary air had suddenly sprung up between them.

“You know, that sounds really helpful,” Dazai chimed, “I think it’d be great if you—” He stopped mid sentence, head turning at the careful approach of a third party. “Ah, hello mother.”

There was a coldness to Dazai as he stared at the woman, and Dumbledore looked put out at the blankness that had surfaced in his partner.

“Shuuji,” she greeted. Her confident demeanor shielded her hesitance, though it was a similar enough practice to Dazai’s own mannerisms that Chuuya could catch a hint of it. She looked him up and down. “You’ve grown.”

“That does tend to happen, yes,” Dazai replied, sarcasm dripping off the statement. The discomfort in the group was palpable now. Dazai’s hand tightened where it rested against his waist, and he had the mind to elbow him before he halted the thought. Right, they were ‘married’. Married couples wouldn’t struggle their way out of a position like this.

Fuck, he was so going to punch Dazai once they were out of view.

“This is Nakahara Chuuya,” Dazai introduced him, and his face heated up as Dazai let his thumb rub a circle at his waist, “My husband.”

Chuuya was going to kill this man.

“What he said,” he did his best to sound nonchalant, offering his own hand (the right, for this handshake), “I’m guessing that would make you my mother-in-law, right?”

“I suppose,” there was a tinge of a sneer to her lips, but she still shook his hand. Chuuya felt Dazai’s fingers tighten against him. She looked Chuuya in the eye, “You wouldn’t mind a conversation with your mother-in-law, would you?” She spoke in Japanese, their onlooker eyeing the woman but not appearing to recognize her words. “I fear I’ve missed a lot in Shuuji’s life.”

The mackerel’s fingers were still firm at his waist and Chuuya let his own hand rub at his partner’s back. His own way of saying there was no way in hell he was going to miss a conversation with the woman who’d spawned Dazai. “Of course not,” he answered, also in Japanese. “Osamu, that’s alright with you, isn’t it?” he goaded, tone set softer than usual. Dazai, though, would still recognize the bite to it.

The bandage waster let him go after a moment. “Don’t have too much fun without me, dear chibi!” he exclaimed, and in a move Chuuya should’ve foreseen with the bastard’s twisted sense of humor, Dazai pulled him close one more time, lips planting themselves on his forehead.

Chuuya had to be red. He could feel the heat against his cheeks, hyper aware of the thin layer of saliva Dazai’d left behind with the peck. It was disgusting, and he couldn’t even wipe it off lest he break the stupid ass cover Dazai roped him into. Why was this his fucking life now?

He pulled away from Dazai at last, following the man’s mother as she pulled him off to the side.

“So,” Tsushima Tane finally said, Japanese running smoother off her tongue than the English had, “You’re Shuuji’s… husband. I will admit, I didn’t foresee his preferences leaning in that direction, though it’s more of a shock he managed to rope someone into marrying him at all.” She looked Chuuya up and down, “And a muggle of all things.”

Chuuya scowled, “You got a problem with that?”

She peered down her nose at him, and Chuuya cursed his stature for giving her the opportunity. “I’d say I’m disappointed, but when has Shuuji ever proven anything different?” Tane scoffed, “Too much exposure as a child I’m sure, though the brat always liked to irritate me.”

The mackerel really was disappointing at times, and Chuuya couldn’t dispute her last line considering Dazai faked a fucking marriage between them. It still grated him when she’d said it, though.

“Dazai can be irritating, sure, but I don’t see how that’s your fucking problem anymore. You haven’t seen him since he was what? Twelve?”

Her face pulled in displeasure. “It should’ve stayed that way, and yet I find myself here to ensure that brat doesn’t ruin the last of my reputation.” She huffed, “It was a surprise, really. I was sure the little monster would have killed himself by now. It would do the world a favor.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Chuuya spat, fists curling as his vision tainted red.

Dazai’s mother stayed relaxed, eyeing him with a look of pure judgment. “Did you expect me to say any different? You married him, but I doubt you realize even half of what he is. There’s always been something wrong with that child, even if he hides it better now.”

Chuuya let out a humorless laugh, “Fine, then. What is he?” She’d said something was wrong with Dazai. Chuuya could’ve told her that himself— what normal person raved about suicide and mummied themselves with bandages day after day?— but the way she’d said it, a near fearful disgust rubbed him the wrong way.

“As your mother-in-law,” Tane spoke, mocking the title, “I thought it best to warn you, even if you are a muggle.” She said it like it was some great fucking honor even as she looked at him like he was an ant beneath her heel. Chuuya could see where Dazai got his irritating side from, even if this woman used it all wrong. Did she realize he could crush her skull in with a tap of his fingers? Pierce a pebble through her fucking heart? Maybe the thought would wipe the arrogance from her tone. “Shuuji— or Dazai Osamu, I suppose he’s going by these days— isn’t quite all there. He’s a shell of a person, and I doubt there is anything real behind the act he’s putting up now.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he found himself spitting before another word could be said. “Now listen here, I don’t care if you think being Dazai’s mother gives you any fucking right to talk like you know shit. You haven’t seen him in a fucking decade. I’ve known Dazai for the past seven years. I know how awful he can be, how fucking dark and empty those eyes can get. And you know what? I’d still trust him with my life.”

She seemed surprised, eyeing him with a wary gaze. She was reassessing things, Dazai’s image in the narrowing of her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “Inspiring loyalty, is he? Looks like he did get something else from his father after all.”