#Look‚ Q's ability doesn't make ANY sense. Why would Dazai's ability work on the doll? It's an object.

[sskk-manifesto]

Well, that is only if Fitzgerald has an endless stockpile of Q-specific dolls

[gaoau]

you can't reinvent the laughter

theory of the two demons warnings — none word count — 2.8k

prev. — next.

a month or so of training under their new mentor has gone by—[Name] can't keep up anymore with the passage of time. they seem to be busier now than they ever were with Dazai; their shoulders feel heavier now than they ever did with Dazai looking them right in the eye. they can sense him like a looming curse clinging to their back and waiting to strike. he's been lurking around, [Name] can tell, keeping tabs on them and their progress. it's slow, but it's progress, and [Name] has become another testament to Dazai's efficiency and why he should be made an executive before Chuuya.

although they hate knowing this, [Name] keeps their mouth shut and their head bowed down. they work on their own improvement outside of Dazai's brownie points—they didn't join this hell of an organization to help Dazai climb the ranks; this is for their friends and family. so they endure the torturous training, the one that has turned out to be a billion times more excruciatingly exhausting than their previous mentor's. molten lava injected directly into their veins, occasional concussions when they slip up, a four-day long coma, bruises that won't fade. they'd rather have this over the sneer of a lonely boy holding back his tears.

they've come to learn that Verlaine's ability is so much stronger than Chuuya's. they're taking their sweet fucking time in getting used to the influx of energy. it burns them from underneath their skin and flings them into a wall every time they try to convert the energy into power. apart from that repeated failure, their martial arts and stealth skills have improved greatly.

[Name] has killed a total of twenty-three people since they earned their title as a proper Port Mafia assassin.

they wonder how worth it this all is, when their muscles ache with every breath they take as they rest. (resting feels criminal lately.) the infirmary has become a second bedroom so they can pretend it's consequences and not tiredness. they keep their eyes peeled, making sure not to doze off for a moment. the ceiling doesn't flicker and neither does it blind them. it's within reach and painted a pleasant cream color, reflecting against the natural sunlight pouring in from the window. [Name] knows their new mentor couldn't care less about whether they bleed out on the ground or not, but he's conscious enough to have people fetch them after they pass out with mangled limbs.

they think this is worth it; they think this is what the Port Mafia actually has to offer. 

nothing is broken today. nothing has been broken for weeks. there's only bruises—maybe a little disorientation—and constant pain, but things would be so much worse with Dazai.

(Dazai is busy with someone else, though.)

a knock sounds on the door, startling [Name] out of their agonies. they call into the quiet of the room, "come in," only for the knocking to become incessant. "come in," [Name] tries again, a little louder, a little more irritated. the knocking doesn't cease, instead picking up speed, more and more rapid, pressing, insistent. c'mon, hey, hurry up, let's go, it says and [Name] squeezes a sigh from between their teeth. they groan and curse as they drag themself out of bed.

with every step, they can hear their bones grind like rusted hinges, echoing in their brain with notes of strain. but when they open the door, it all washes away. they're surprised to find Q rocking back and forth on their feet, a bright beam spread across their face. their worn doll is tucked under their right arm and their left hand hangs in the air in a fist. [Name] blinks. there doesn't seem to be any blood or bruises at a first glance, but they know the damage only grows the more time passes. (Dazai holds a knife to any peace of mind [Name] could ever muster.)

they grin down at Q and instinctively reach their hand to ruffle their hair up. Q closes their eyes and grins back, welcoming the affectionate touches from an older sibling they do not have. "hey, kiddo," [Name] greets with a chirp in their tone, "what're you doing here?"

"Dazai-san's busy today!" Q exclaims, stars in their eyes. their voice sounds nearly like a melody to rival the silence ringing in [Name]'s ears. they can't help but feel wary. Q snakes their fingers into [Name]'s hand and tugs. "let's go play!"

[Name]'s smile deforms into a guilt-ridden grimace. with the scorching ache coursing through their every nerve, they ca—but Q is gazing up at them so expectantly, pulling on their arm, teeming with anticipation to lead the way because they know [Name] will follow. because [Name] knows they will follow. because [Name] wanted someone who would follow, too.

they ignore the pain threatening to burst like needles from underneath their skin, have them bleed out on the ground for Q to watch. with trembling knees, they scoop Q into their arms and hold them against their hip. "do you feel up for a change of scenery?"

"sure!"

"let's ask Mori-san, what do you say?"

Q giggles mirthfully and nearly strangles [Name]'s neck in a tight hug. they press against a glowing bruise beneath their shirt. [Name] winces quietly so Q can keep smiling. they feel free.

[Name] didn't grow up in Yokohama—or in any other city in the world. there was a park they used to frequent with the other kids at the orphanage, but it must be too many train rides away at this point. they've memorized a few important routes in Yokohama by now (courtesy of the Port Mafia's assassination jobs), which isn't much, but it's all they need to escort Q to the nearest park.

they watch from a bench as Q exhausts their energy, running and jumping around in glee. Q is just a kid. sticks are swords and rocks are grenades and a scratch on their arm is hallucinations that drive anyone insane. but Q is nothing more than just a kid. [Name] calls out, "careful, there!" while Q attempts to climb a tree. they remember that's how kentarou chipped off the corner of his front tooth and how much he cried.

the sun starts to set when [Name]'s phone rings in their pocket. they need to head back now.

Q doesn't complain when [Name] offers them their hand, cheeks rosy and smudged with dirt for all the right reasons. "that was fun!" they exclaim with a giggle. they hold tightly onto [Name]'s hand as they cross the street.

and it rings in [Name]'s head, bouncing around the corners of their mind, reverberating in dissonance. let's go play! and it hurts! sounding at the same time; overflowing excitement and excruciating pain echoing from the same voice of a kid who loathes their own existence. a kid whose hand is small and warm. a kid who knows nothing but chaos despite how much they hate it. a kid with dreams in a name they don't want to use anymore.

[Name] glances down at this kid. neglected innocence they feel compelled to protect. "what if we read yume as mu?"

Q cranes their neck up to find [Name]'s gentle simper. "for… my name?" they frown. [Name] tugs them out of the way so they don't bump into other people.

"yeah. mukyuu?"

"i don't care anymore…" Q mumbles. Q has realized.

but [Name] doesn't care. they see Q's defeated pout as they face forward again. "you didn't like yu-chan, did you?" they chuckle. "how 'bout mu-chan, then?" Q stops walking as they gaze up at [Name], mouth agape and an endearing brightness lighting up their eyes. [Name] grins at them. "oh! Mucchan!"

the corners of Q's mouth lift into their cheeks. they laugh from the core of their chest and squeeze [Name]'s hand. "i'm Mucchan!"

"yeah, you're Mucchan!" [Name] squeezes back.

[Name] is sorry.

Yumeno Kyuusaku is just a kid.

it burns. the moment they first held Q's hand, [Name] knew it would burn. even if they die here, even if it kills them, this hell will follow them to their grave. despite the clear warnings, they grabbed the plate while it was still too hot to take. (but it was always going to stay hot.) Q doesn't deserve any of this. Q simply couldn't take it anymore—they were just throwing a tantrum, manic cackles echoing through the Port Mafia's headquarters, laughing at the chaos they were causing because they've never been taught otherwise. Q is not innocent, [Name] understands that much, but they're just a kid.

Q is unconscious.

[Name], however, stirs awake. they don't know how long it's been. through bleary eyes, they see Q passed out and locked behind bars. it's cold in here. they can hardly believe Q will have to live in confinement indefinitely just because they're a child. Dazai called them a walking catastrophe and what else could they do but live up to his claims? Q is not at fault. 

with quivering and aching arms, [Name] pushes themself off the floor. they crawl closer to the cell bars, their right leg dragging behind them, snapped in half. the cell door rattles through the silence when they grasp it for support. the lighting is so dim that they can barely tell if Q is breathing anymore. for a moment, it seems like they aren't. then they see their chest rise and fall, slowly. sighing in relief, [Name] turns and leans against the bars. their hand brushes over a puddle of blood. they don't know if it's theirs or Q's.

[Name] wonders if Q wants to die, too. if the confinement will have them finding anything to end their life with. if Dazai will come in at the right moment to stop them and keep them alive for the Port Mafia's benefit.

but it wasn't Dazai the one coming to sew [Name]'s arms shut when they tried to kill themself again. and it's not them the one lying on the ground out cold. there was nothing they could do—through the years and earlier today. they argued, they stood up to Dazai, and they failed. Q is confined and this is history repeating for them, only this time they can only watch from the outside in.

they pull their knees up to their chest, wincing at their broken leg. just in time, the door to the underground cells creaks open. [Name] chooses to hide and make themself smaller rather than confirm it's Dazai coming to taunt them. their shoulders tremble as they listen to him get closer with every echoing step. fists and teeth clenched, they know they can't fight him. they want to, though. they want to strike back right here, right now. they want to kill him.

although [Name] hides their face in their knees in the middle of the dark, their anger is bigger than them. there's no way Dazai could possibly miss them; Dazai knows the shadows like the back of his hand. this is just as much as he can expect from someone like [Name]. he chuckles. it resonates, bouncing off the walls. it makes [Name] shift slightly, lifting their head enough to glower at him so scornfully.

"come on," he starts, voice airy and light, dancing with notes of laughter, "don't look at me like that." their anger will slice him up if he so much as takes a step closer. at least, it will try, but there's not much rabid emotions can do against someone like him. "i get you're upset, but they had it coming. do you have any idea how many people died?"

"what do you know, Dazai-san? your ability blessed you, Mucchan is just a child."

something flashes in his eyes briefly. he brushes it off just as quick. "Q is just a child?" he repeats their words back at them. it's synthetic, the way the word blessed rings next to his identity. he tries his best to fit among normal people with a face no one else sees. "or do you mean you were just a child when they experimented on you?"

[Name]'s glare sharpens. they tense their muscles to keep themself from pouncing on him impulsively. they let the silence last longer than Dazai would normally allow. he isn't very patient, [Name] knows. he waits months and even years to see his plans come to fruition. they can't win against him. no matter how much they want to snap his neck and bash his skull in and have him feel everything they are feeling, there's nothing they can do. they're so much less than he is.

it burns.

it burns. it burns. it burns and it will never stop burning.

quietly, they speak up, "you say there's no point in living…" and lose their train of thought immediately. despite their twitching fingers, they keep their voice steadily soft. Q is still behind them, passed out or not.

"what? you don't agree?"

"i… do." it burns. "i just wonder why you're still here."

Dazai hums, hands in his pockets, leisurely. "what about you? you're also here." he looks down at and on [Name]. they glare back. he thinks they could kill him if he weren't careful.

"i have things i can't leave unfinished. i'll be gone once they're done."

"ah, is that so?" it hangs in the air. weightless, carefree. it pierces into [Name]'s ears mockingly. Dazai shrugs. "guess you can say the same for me."

"no."

the frown soiling Dazai's face is involuntary. he isn't laughing anymore.

"i'm not like you."

he's laughing again. "really? i know you hate me, but it's true we see eye to eye here. surely you understand that."

"you're not like me, Dazai-san."

Dazai blinks at [Name] for a moment. he spares them another uninterested glance, assessing the damage he caused to their body. the normal thoughts they share are not a product of his actions. only a coincidence. only a mirror. only a scheme he's still unaware of. when he looks past them and at Q's unconscious body, [Name] jostles, ready to ignore the clear disadvantage and attack.

then he sighs, "you still have training today. don't keep Verlaine-san waiting, yeah?" he's rather surprised to watch as [Name] hides their face in their knees again. it's quiet. "yeah?" he repeats, but they don't answer. with a childish scoff, he leaves them to handle themself.

[Name] is so sorry.

isshin namiyo finds her boss' ability to be unsettling. she remembers the [Name] of a few months ago, with less scars on their skin and a less brooding disposition. back then, all they could do was kill at Mori's order, but it's horrific to see a kid this young weaken people twice their size by just touching them for a few seconds. although she doesn't know the logistics of Mirror Mirage, namiyo can tell it fits right in the Port Mafia.

[Name]'s skills have improved greatly overtime. now there's fifteen men on the verge of death, all waiting for Dazai to show up so he can interrogate them. they're the enemy, sure, but namiyo pities them. the real devil to fear is among her allies, she has come to realize. she wonders why [Name] even needs their unit if they do all the work by themself.

but namiyo doesn't say anything, tightening the restraints on one of the goons. her coworkers do the same and idly stand by. [Name] hasn't said a word to them in a long while. they sleep through the night and wake up in the morning as usual, but it's all practiced repetition. it's like they suddenly realized something; like they have access to something that will protect them if they don't speak.

then Dazai's voice, soft and calm, echoes through the room, "great job, [Name], you're really making use of your ability."

namiyo bows, and so does the rest of [Name]'s unit. [Name] doesn't. they turn towards him, the demon prodigy, and glare through narrowed eyes. 

Dazai sighs, exasperated, "you're still not talking? it's been almost a month."

[Name] spares namiyo a nod. she finds this extremely unsettling. nonetheless, she understands they're leaving her to work with Dazai. promptly, they head out the door.

"say hi to Q for me!" Dazai calls, waving his arm with childish excitement.

before the door closes, namiyo sees how [Name]'s fingers twitch. but she doesn't say anything, watching two children pick at each other's minds. the world may as well laugh at her cowardice from the bottom of its heart.

[Name] is so, so sorry.

note — so mucchan 🤲🏻 i love q with my entire heart. i fucking love children with more power than they know what to do with and q is such a great example of that. i wasnt particularly interested in reaching into their brain, cause really theyre just a kid left at a hospital that mori got his hands on, so its not that hard to understand whats going on. but since i had mc in the mix this time, i wanted to give q more of a shot at being a child. it was always meant to be short lived though cause, at the end of the day, dazai ends up confining them and they stay there until the guild arc so speaking of, the way dazai views q is so odd to me. dazai in general is very odd, cause he confined them after they killed however many people, but the window of time in which he could have done that is very short and q was less than ten years old in every scenario. (not to mention dazai only becomes an executive when hes around eighteen) i took it more as q throwing a tantrum over having to harm themself than them being intentionally evil. dazai put them away because of the damage they caused, but ill never understand if he was genuinely angry so many people died in vain or he was just being cautious. it really depends on when in the timeline it happened, and i chose to put it before odasaku this is, unfortunately, the end of the q arc (and im so sad theres no gender neutral nee/nii-chan cause i desperately wanted q to address mc like that). theres only so much i could do with a pretty simple character, but it works out in the end when the line between mc caring about q and just using them to heal themself from past abuse is very blurred. ill hold qs hand to cross the street any day of the week thanks for reading, drink water have day