How Dazai and Chuuya were sent on a mission as 14 yo into the infamous umbrella academy and experienced the grueling training with the Hargreaves children
French Chuuya my beloved
We need to talk about how Chuuya doesn't have a pony tail. There is zero sight of a hairband anywhere. This man has a MULLET
———
Chuuya and Dazai sat stiff as boards, eyes glued to the ground of old, dingy house they were in. Mori, dressed so unlike himself that the boys almost didn't recognize him, was sitting in a seat opposite them with another, slightly older man who seemed to be in his early fifties, late forties, conversing.
At last, the older man spoke up loud enough for the boys to hear him, "I think it's a deal then. I shall send a car for them in the morning." He grinned viciously at Mori, hand outstretched to shake his before slipping him three large briefcases, no doubt filled with money.
The boys did their best to play the role of traumatized, terrified children as they were examined by the man they did not know the name of. He poked at their joints, pulled at their limbs, caressed their faces —which they both felt was a little unnecessary— and a multitude of other little things before standing upright again and saying his farewells and exiting.
The minute he was gone Dazai broke character, falling back with a dramatic whine. "That was so booring!" Chuuya sat up as well, smacking Dazai in the nose with the back of his hand as he yelled semi-loudly. "Shut the fuck up!"
Mori sighed almost fondly, looking on at the fight as it progressed for a touch longer before deciding to step in. "Now now boys.. no need to fight. You'll need to start getting packed quickly, your ride will be here at 6am sharp tomorrow." He said, waving his hand to dismiss them both to their temporary rooms. They both silently obeyed, feet dragging as they slunk off to the room they shared in the tiny little apartment.
Chuuya huffed, scowling at the random assortment of poor looking clothing that was laid haphazardly on one of the small beds. "Tch, can't believe we have to sleep here tonight. I can't even believe we have to go in this mission! I mean, come on. Those stupid wannabe hero kids are nothing but a bunch of losers with powers... they ain't that special." He hissed, his little rant dropping the heated tones as he neared the end.
"Ne Chuuyaaaa, those little wannabe hero's could pose a great threat to the port mafia! I think it's a good thing Mori-Sans sending us in there. Plus, it means no more boring missions, we can just laze around all day!" He cooed, draping himself dramatically across his own bed, effectively unfolding most of the meager clothes he was given himself. Chuuya made a sound at the back of his throat, throwing his hand up at Dazai, "Oi Mackerel, you're messing up the clothes! Get up!" Dazai just whines some more until Chuuya comes stomping over, swatting at him and nearly pushing him off the bed.
A few hours later Dazai and Chuuya were up, slowly buttoning up their shirts as they listened to Mori and the old man from earlier speak out in the small lounge room.
"— yes of course. — I can — then it's a deal." Their speech was broken up as the walls were thin, but not quite that thin.
Chuuya picked up his tattered looking canvas satchel, throwing it over his shoulder before he looked to Dazai, whom was doing the same. "From riches to rags.." Chuuya muttered before he walked to the door and pulled it open quietly to step into the main room, Dazai close on his heels.
The hallway to the main room of the small house just on the outskirts of the slums that resides on the north edge of Yokohama looked less like a hallway and more like one of those tubes that stretch from the wall of an airport to meet the airplane and allow the people to board. It was tattered and small, low ceiling and bumpy, water stained walls.
They walked through what you could call an archway, but was more accurately a poorly cut doorway with no door. The men that had been conversating a moment prior stopped when they approached, turning to meet them. The old man, about a head shorter than Mori smiled at them predatorily and stuck out his arm, flashing is white palm to the two to shake. "I'm Sir Reginald Hargreaves, pleased to meet you boys."
They both looked at him, giving their best thousand yard stare before they both grabbed his hand, very loosely shaking it.
He nodded, "right! Let's be off then. It was a pleasure doing business with, Mr. Takuaki. Do get back in contact with me if you find yourself with any more fine lads like these." He gave Mori a smile that just screamed child predator.
