Summary: Kunikida disagrees. Oneshot.
"That's the plan," Dazai chirped. "And you remember your cue right?" He turned around to leave.
Kunikida's hand clamped around his partner's wrist, tight but not hurting him. "No," he loudly insisted. He shouted the word, with all the unbridled fury of an unbroken stallion.
Dazai paused. He sighed and turned his head to look at his partner. "There's no other way, Kunikida-kun."
"There has to be."
"I told you that you would die if you kept holding onto lofty ideals. There's a hole in your boat, Kunikida, and if you don't plug it now we will both die." Dazai's voice was frigid, his eyes empty.
"No." The word snapped around the room. It made the dark expanding pit of despair in Kunikida's stomach stronger.
"Kunikida-"
Kunikida took a breath and shook his head. He pushed the despair away, he had to focus on surviving this with his ideals intact. "No, Dazai," he quietly said. "We will find another way."
Dazai stared at him. "We don't have time to-"
"You wish to call my ideals a hole in my boat? Then I will keep bailing," Kunikida hissed. "Dazai, this is final." His hold on his partner's wrist tightened briefly to emphasize how serious he was. "So," a wry smile spread across his face, "You better help me find another way or we're both dying down here." He left go of Dazai's wrist.
The ex-Port Mafia member sighed. "You've put us in a real pickle now, Kunikida-kun," he complained.
"If you wanted to have me go along with a plan of yours, you should have thought about my dissent beforehand." Kunikida glared sternly at his partner.
"Plan A, I die and you survive," Dazai chirped.
"Uh-huh. And?"
"Plan B, we survive, they die."
"Dazai," Kunikida growled.
Dazai shrugged. "That's really all I can come up with, Kunikida-kun."
"Then we're improvising," Kunikida decided.
XXX
Plan C, rushing the enemy, with a seventy percent chance of getting minor injuries and a ninety percent chance of Kunikida dying.
Dazai carried Kunikida haphazardly on his left shoulder. Blood trickled from Kunikida's wound. It spilled down Dazai's tan trench coat, leaving tracks of red.
His head was getting a bit...fuzzy. Where was he going again? Where was the extraction point he set? Dazai stopped for a moment to orient himself. He coughed and adjusted his hold. He took a breath and started off again.
He beamed as he saw the truck. Yosano was here, as he had asked. Kunikida would live. "Kunikida-kun got hit between the ribs," he explained. He gently flopped his partner onto the tarp that lined the truck bed.
His job done, he opened the back right door and sat in one of the seats. He buckled himself in. Dazai lazily noted the drying blood on his coat. It wasn't like he didn't know how to get blood out of clothing. He had a lot of practice. Although it was a lot easier to hide faded but not gone blood stains on black. He added 'getting bleach for that later' to his list of things to do later.
"Dazai-san?" Atsushi asked. He was sitting in the passenger seat.
Dazai really must have been out of it to not notice his student was there. "Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"Of course," Dazai chirped. No one needed to know about the four already motley bruises, sprained ankle, and likely broken rib.
The cost of Kunikida pursing his ideals were temporary to himself, even brief. But for Dazai, the cost was a bit higher, Yosano couldn't heal him.
Kunikida wished to live the best he could. He was a true, pure idealist who never relented even for self preservation. Dazai did not begrudge his partner for the injuries. Besides, they were normal in this line of work after all.
Although, he still hated the pain.
A/N
They are an interesting representation of an idealist and a realist duo.
Merry Christmas Fatti-chan.
-Silver
