Dazai finds the shrine late one night when he's coming back from work.

It's tiny and mangled, its paint peeling off in strips of red. The tiny gate above the shrine is cracked, but not beyond repair.

Dazai stops in front of the shrine -  which is sheltered between two bushes - and crouches down.

His fingers run over the wood, and a tingling feeling courses through his veins.

"Will you be able to fix my problems?" he murmurs to the shrine, hoisting the broken gate back into its proper place. The crack line is still visible, and Dazai frowns at this.

"You're in need of repair, aren't you?" Dazai lets the broken piece of gate fall as he stands up. "I'll be back."

He turns away from the shrine, the heels of his shoes clicking on the sidewalk as he makes his way back home.

~

Dazai comes back the next night, this time with repair materials. He asks Odasaku to help him, and the man benevolently agrees.

"It's kind of..." Odasaku trails off when he sees the soiled shrine, "broken beyond repair."

"You haven't even tried repairing it yet, Odasaku," Dazai kneels in front of the shrine, picking up the broken pieces on the dirt. "Just because something is broken doesn't mean it's unfixable. If you see an orphan, broken by the horrors of their past life, would you say that they're beyond repair? Would you not save them?"

Odasaku falls silent, and a soft chuckle slips from Dazai's lips.

"Help me, would you?"

The two spend the rest of their afternoon fixing the shrine, placing piece by piece back into their intended positions. Once they had repainted it with a new skin of red, they sat in front of it, silence befalling the two.

"So," Odasaku starts, crossing his legs, "what are you going to wish for?"

"Wish for?"

"It's a shrine, after all."

"Well, if this shrine does belong to a god, I would wish for death," Dazai states blandly, "even if they're a minor god or goddess."

Dazai skims his fingers across the shrine's gate, feeling the smooth paint against his fingertips.

"I would be one of their dedicated followers as long as they are able to grant my wish."

Odasaku closes his eyes. "Your mind dances."

Dazai shifts, now kneeling. With his hands clasped, he murmurs a prayer -  however informal it may be - to the god of this shrine.

Odasaku doesn't follow suit, as expected.

They sit in blissful silence for a while longer, both staring at the shrine as if waiting for a miracle to happen.

"Well then," Dazai stands up, brushing off the dirt on his pants and coat, "will you join me again to pray tomorrow?"

Dazai notices the change in Odasaku's expression. He's never been a man of religion and requesting that must have taken his friend off guard.

"Sure," Odasaku says, turning away.

Dazai smiles, giving the shrine one last look before he departs as well.

~

They come back every day, bringing offerings and presents for the shrine. They keep it in perfect condition, rain or shine.

Dazai prays every day - prays for Death, prays for his suicide attempts to be successful, prays for the moment when he's able to leave this world.

He doesn't always come with Odasaku. Sometimes, he creeps out in the dead of night to sit in front of the shrine with the candles he lights on his way over.

He prays again, prays because everything is just so bloody and horrendous and horrifying, prays because he wants to leave this wretched world, prays to be released from all his burdens as a Port Mafia executive and as a human.

Dazai doesn't know if the god or goddess he's praying to is real, or if they're listening to him.

But he has faith, faith in that his wishes will soon come true, and that's all he needs.

~

Odasaku dies in the battle against Mimic, and his last words lock themselves up in Dazai's heart.

He remembers his tears, remembers lashing out at his subordinates, remembers storming away from headquarters and to the one place in which he can find solitude.

The shrine.

There, he's not afraid of any passerby and so he lets his emotions flood out in waves. He screams, he wails, he yells profanities at everyone, at everything.

He wishes to die so badly.

He wants Death, he craves for it more than usual.

But more than that, he wants the whole world to burn. He wants to watch Mori die by his hands, wants to see the buildings of Yokohama perish beneath raging flames and smoke.

His tears hit the shrine, staining the dry wood with black spots.

Why can't everything just stop?

~

He hears the man's pleas, his begs, his wails.

He's heard all his prayers for Death; never had such a mortal intrigue him to the point where he's tempted to step out of the veil.

He's asked himself multiple times: Are you sure? Do you want to do this for a pathetic human being?

And the answer is yes.

Yes, he does.

As the mortal who'd nursed his shrine back to health and had given him offerings and gifts, it was exceptionally hard to say no. It was the last he could do for his only follower.

What an abhorrent trait it was, sympathy. He chuckles at the feeling.

His foot passes the veil, and he steps into the night.

~

"Do you want to avenge your friend?"

Dazai looks up through his tears, his heart rate speeding up. Had someone found him while he was weak?

Instead of one of his bodyguards, he finds a striking male in his late teens, his features illuminating in the moonlight. His eyes are a sharp blue that brings out his fiery orange hair, ties up in a bun and pierced with dark red hair sticks.

His outfit is made of black silk as red swirls and curls in the fabric, creating designs of every sort. The yuki is a bright red that brings out the darker color around it.

The yukata slips off both his shoulders as the v-line plunges all the way to his solar plexus. His sandals are of wood, and in his hands with red nails is a red parasol.

Dazai's breath is suddenly stolen from his lungs as he gazes at the beauty in front of him.

"Well? Do you?" The male prompts, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Dazai breathes, "yes I do."

"Very well."

With a snap of his fingers, Dazai's wishes are fulfilled.

~

"You know, for a god, you're pretty short, Chuuya," Dazai nuzzles his nose into Chuuya's hair, his finger playing with the choker around his neck.

"You've told me that countless times, bastard," Chuuya rolls his eyes, "and stop playing with that thing around my neck!"

"It's a collar for obedient dogs like you~" Dazai singsongs.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing your paperwork?!" Chuuya snaps, pulling away from Dazai.

"Awww, but being a Mafia boss is sooo boring! It's only that you're here that gives me some relief."

"Who told you to kill your former boss, then?" Chuuya tugs at his choker.

"You did, for the record."

"I merely fulfilled your wishes, I didn't tell you to."

There's a knock at the doors, and hastily, Chuuya attempts to fix his disheveled yukata which was way off his shoulders at this point.

"Leave it like that," Dazai murmurs next to his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Chuuya growls at the words; how had he let such an arrogant fool turn him from a god to a mere toy?

"Come in."

The doors open, and immediately, the man at the door bows with the utmost respect. Then, turning to Chuuya, he goes down on his knees and touches his forehead to the ground.

"You really need to stop making your subordinates bow in front of me every time they see me," Chuuya scoffs.

"But you deserve to be honored as the god you are, don't you?" Dazai counters, gesturing at the man to stand.

"It's not like for every bow my ability strengthens."

"You still need more followers if you want to keep your strength," Dazai muses.

"Shitty bastard," Chuuya spits. "When can I take this choker off, anyway?"

"Never," Dazai smirks slyly, "you're my dog for life, aren't you? Since you agreed to serve under my orders."

"I said that I would help you to pay you back for fixing the shrine, I never said anything about being a lousy dog."

"God spelled backward is dog, so I stand corrected," Dazai blows a raspberry, earning a scowl from Chuuya.

"I'll rip your tongue out right here, right now," Chuuya threatens.

Chuuya's never been so offended in his life. He was the god of calamity and destruction, or by his alias, Arahabaki. He was meant to be worshipped, to be feared by humans. But, lo and behold, the irony that had struck him was nothing he'd ever expected.

Now he lives by the orders of Dazai Osamu, the feared boss of the Port Mafia, his very first worshipper. To have been downgraded to an animal left Chuuya speechless and furious.

But it's not like he has a choice or anything. He's attracted to Dazai, to say the least. That attraction had turned into affection, into something humans called 'love'. It was a stupid feeling; it made his stomach flip and his palms sweat.

Dazai's managed to pique Chuuya's interest and catch his attention and reign him in, far different from all the other mortals he's seen in the centuries before. But what took his by surprise was the fact that he, a god from the heavens, had fallen in love with a deadly human being.

"So," Dazai says, addressing the man dressed in black, "what do you have for me today?"

"An organization has just declared war on the Port Mafia, sir." The man shifts on his feet, though his eyes are glued to Dazai in a sign of respect.

Silence envelops the room, and for a split second, Chuuya thinks that Dazai is shocked.

Instead, Dazai lets out a roar of laughter, his fists pounding against his wooden table.

"Them? Go against the Port Mafia? I'd like to see them try."

The guard shivers slightly, and Chuuya shifts uncomfortably in his seat next to Dazai's.

"Tell them to prepare their best weapons," Dazai's voice drops, his eyes half-lidded.

The man understands quickly (kudos to him) and bows before exiting the door.

"You're going to use me again, aren't you?" Chuuya says slowly.

"I wouldn't exactly say 'use'. That's a very cruel word. You have a will of your own, too," Dazai states, leaning closer to Chuuya. "But yes, I am going to brag about the god I've caught the attention of and make them pay. How does that sound?"

Dazai hooks a finger under Chuuya's choker, bringing him closer.

Chuuya can't help but smile up at the man. "Sounds like a plan."

Dazai's lips connect with his in a hungry kiss, something he's been used to ever since the first week.

He allows himself to be touched, to be kissed roughly, but only by Dazai Osamu.

Only by him and no one else.

~

They decide to attack the other organization first.

Dazai brings only three people: two bodyguards and Chuuya.

Chuuya's not surprised nor concerned at the lack of people they brought. He's trusting in Dazai for their plan to work out right.

Gunfire starts in the direction of the Mafia boss, only to be stopped by Chuuya's palm.

His right hand is slightly raised while his left carries his parasol. With a wipe of his hand, the bullets reverse, and at once, shoot into the bodies of their enemies.

Chuuya can literally feel the smug radiating off of Dazai when he eliminates their enemies. That son of a bitch, always trying to find every possible reason to show off Chuuya.

They ascend the warehouse, the bullets and bombs useless against the group. Chuuya makes sure that Dazai is unscathed as he scours the place for any other rivals.

They eventually make it to the top, and the leader of the organization doesn't even bother to mask his fear when Dazai steps up with a smirk.

"You chose the wrong mafia to mess with," Dazai lets out a humorless laugh. "Especially one with a god in it."

Chuuya rolls his eyes as Dazai showcases him.

"A g-god?" The man shakes. Clearly, he's never heard of Chuuya and his affiliation with Dazai. This only seems to delight Dazai even more.

"Yes, a true god. Arahabaki, the god of destruction and calamity."

"H-How?"

"Well, he belongs to me technically," Dazai boasts.

Chuuya bits his cheek to stop himself from snorting out loud.

"There's no way you can control a god. It isn't possible," the man persists.

"Impossible?" Dazai echoes, placing a hand on the small of Chuuya's back, bringing him closer to Dazai's chest.

In a swift motion, Chuuya's chin is tilted up and his lips lock with Dazai's. Chuuya relaxes, his eyes trailing to the man in front of them.

He's absolutely flabbergasted, his eyes wide with horror.

"You- You- You kissed a god."

"So?" Dazai raises an eyebrow, releasing his grip on Chuuya.

"You tamed him."

The use of word choice enraged Chuuya. He hadn't been tamed - it was an insult, and Chuuya yearned to rip the man's guts out.

Just when Chuuya is about to let himself at the man, his ears pick up a sharp whizzing sound coming from several meters behind them.

Sharpshooters.

In an elegant motion, he turns on his heel, stopping the incoming bullets with a hand. He reverses them and launches them back at their shooters, killing them in one blow. And, just for a touch of drama, he snaps his fingers, causing the building in front of them to collapse in an explosion.

The man scrambles back like a mouse cornered by a cat.

"You're- You're-" He points an accusing finger at Chuuya.

"Hm? What's that?" Dazai says, releasing his grip on Chuuya.

"You're a monster."

"Oh?" Dazai's gaze grows dark, and Chuuya steps back to let the Mafia boss finish this.

"I'll show you who's the real monster here."

Whipping out a gun, Dazai shoots a round of bullets into the man's chest mercilessly before the other even had the time to pull out his own weapon.

The battleground falls silent.

"Come on, let's go back."

Chuuya falls into step with Dazai as their bodyguards flank them at their sides.

"You didn't have to blow up the building," Dazai muses.

"I didn't do that for you if that's what you're thinking."

Dazai smiles, taking Chuuya's hand in his own. He raises it to his lips and presses a chaste kiss on Chuuya's knuckles.

"Whatever you say, my lovely god."