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Mini ([personal profile] misheard) wrote in [community profile] nealuchi2023-06-28 02:41 pm

a bone stupidly white

Title: a bone stupidly white
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs, Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): BSD Dazai, BunAl Chuuya, BunAl Ango
Pairing(s): BSD Dazai/BunAl Chuuya
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 1,001
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Referenced child death, alcoholism
Summary: Detective Dazai and poet Chuuya, graveyards.
Notes: Written for BSD Rarepair Week. Part of Cogwheels.


It’s not unheard of for Dazai to see another person in the graveyard overlooking the sea. Oda isn’t the only person buried there, just the only person that matters.

It’s a small graveyard, but not so small that his visit will get in the way of someone else’s. Most people will leave a stranger alone, even one that’s sitting against a grave instead of leaving flowers on it, and he won’t bother them.

If it’s someone he recognizes, that’s something else entirely.

There’s a tiny blond poet walking down the rows of stones, mumbling names under his breath. Obviously he doesn’t know where the grave he’s looking for is. Not surprising, considering the circumstances of him being in Yokohama after his death in the first place.

Dazai rests his elbow on Chuuya’s head. “Finding a grave to jump into is my job, you know~”

Scowling, Chuuya jerks away and turns to glare at him ineffectually. “The hell do you want, Budget Dazai?”

“How mean! Aren’t I allowed to come out in public like anyone else?” Dazai smiles wide and very definitely does not glance in the direction of Oda’s grave. Of course Chuuya will know who it belongs to if he sees the name, and he’ll figure that Dazai was visiting him, and Dazai doesn’t feel like dealing with that right now… but it’s not like it’s hard to piss Chuuya off enough to make him forget all about what he was doing.

(Some things don’t change even with alternate Chuuyas.)

“Wish you wouldn’t.” Chuuya turns his back on Dazai and returns to examining the gravestones.

“I’d say the same about you, but I almost didn’t realize you were here, tiny.”

“Fuck off.” This time Chuuya doesn’t look back at him. Even whistling the most annoying tune Dazai can come up with doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

Time for the more direct approach, then.

“Who are you looking for?” When Chuuya freezes, Dazai goes on. “It must be someone who died in your time… Ooh, maybe you’ll find your own grave here? How poetic~!”

“It isn’t my grave.” Gritted teeth.

“But it is the grave of somebody else you know. Parents? A lover, maybe? Assuming that you ever had a lover, which is being generous-”

“Nakahara Fumiya,” Chuuya says. His voice is flat. “If you’re going to be annoying, at least make yourself useful and help look.”

A father or brother, then, or possibly a grandfather or uncle. Dazai hums. “There’s no Nakahara in this cemetery. Try a different one.”

“…You’re sure?”

“Swear to god.” Dazai isn’t particularly religious, but in this case he isn’t lying. He has no idea what became of this era’s Chuuya’s birth family, but they aren’t buried here under a name they would recognize.

After a long pause, Chuuya leaves the graveyard without another word.


Dazai doesn’t research anything because he doesn’t care. That Chuuya is easy enough to bully without any additional information on his history. He’s harmless anyway, someone who’d balk at anything more vicious than a bar fight, so there’s no need to try to get leverage over him.

Yokohama has more than one graveyard, of course. Sometimes the poet complains about how many there are to search through, but he has to be incredibly drunk (even for his standards) to bring it up on his own. If he starts a tirade on how Yokohama is too huge for its own good and how are you ever supposed to find anything, Dazai can be sure he’s going to pass out within a minute or two.

A better man than Dazai would be concerned. But Dazai has never been a better man, so he just calls the library to tell them to send somebody to pick Chuuya up.

This time it’s Ango. Dazai likes this Ango fine - of the three so-called decadents, their relationship is the least complicated. It’s not coincidental that Ango and his Ango are total opposites.

“Thanks for putting up with him,” Ango says as he hoists Chuuya up over his shoulders. “He’s been disappearing more often lately, but you can always lure him back with alcohol.”

“As long as he pays for the drinks, it’s my pleasure!” Dazai’s smile is as easy as always. “He hasn’t fallen into any open graves yet no matter how many graveyards he searches, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Searching for what?” Ango asks with mild interest. “It’s not that hard to look up famous people’s gravesites, and he didn’t even live here when he was alive.”

“Someone named Nakahara Fumiya.” Dazai says it casually, and doesn’t fail to notice Ango stiffening at the name. “Oh, you’ve met?”

After a moment, Ango forces a chuckle. “Nah. Chuuya’d never let me near his kids, I’m a bad influence.”

It’s easy to forget, with how tiny and youthful-looking Chuuya is, that he was thirty when he died. Dazai hums for a moment. “That explains not knowing where to look. And here I thought he was just forgetful!”

“…Not really. I don’t know what it’s like exactly, but… Can’t imagine he ever forgot burying his son.”

Dazai has no light-hearted response to that, and Ango carries Chuuya out of the bar and leaves him to his thoughts.


It takes a while to search the registries - asking Katai for a favor would be much more efficient, but that would involve Katai wondering why Dazai even cares, and even Dazai doesn’t know the answer to that.

It takes a while, but eventually Dazai comes up with a short list, which he writes on a bar napkin and pushes towards Chuuya.

Chuuya reads it over in silence before carefully tucking it into his pocket. For a few minutes after, neither of them say a word.

Finally, Chuuya manages a soft, “Thank you.”

Dazai does have light-hearted responses to that, jokes about how even Chuuya could manage a Google search by himself or how bar napkins really aren’t worth all that much. He gives voice to none of them.