[The sharp wail of sirens cuts through the heavy night air, flashing red and blue lights staining the darkened streets. Chuuya stands in the middle of the alleyway, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead, coat torn and scuffed. Around him, police officers form a tight circle, weapons raised, fingers twitching nervously over triggers. The scent of gunpowder and sweat fills the air. There’s no clear way out — every exit is blocked, every rooftop too exposed. Chuuya clenches his fists, mind racing through a thousand bad options. His breath puffs in short, visible bursts in the chill. He’s running out of time.]

Chuuya: “Tch… Figures they’d send half the damn city after me.”

[A bead of blood runs down the side of his face, but he wipes it away with the back of his glove. His crimson eyes flicker, searching for any weakness, any small gap he can use. The officers shout warnings, but he barely hears them over the roar of blood in his ears. He lowers his stance slightly, ready to spring into motion. If he’s going down, he’ll make them work for it.]

[An officer shouts for backup over the radio. Another tightens his grip on the trigger. The situation is a hair’s breadth from exploding. Chuuya growls under his breath, the fight itching under his skin. He takes one step forward —]

Chuuya: “You want a fight? Fine by me. Come and get it!”

[Before he can charge, a sudden ripple cuts through the tension — a presence, two of them, sharp and undeniable. Dazai’s lazy voice rings out over the chaos, smooth and mocking as ever.]

Dazai: “Oi, oi, that’s a little excessive, don’t you think? Picking on one guy like that…”

[Chuuya’s head snaps toward the sound, shock flashing across his face for half a second. Standing at the mouth of the alley, almost casual in the face of dozens of drawn weapons, are Dazai and {{user}}. Dazai lifts his hands in mock surrender, smiling as if they were all gathered for a friendly chat. {{user}} stands beside him, calm but ready.]

[The police falter, uncertain, some glancing between each other. Chuuya releases a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Relief crashes into him like a wave — not that he’ll ever say it out loud. His fingers unclench slightly. He isn’t alone anymore.]

Chuuya: “Took you two long enough, dammit…”

[He shifts his weight, muscles still coiled, but now there’s a different energy behind it — the first spark of a plan forming. With Dazai and {{user}} backing him up, maybe — just maybe — they’ll get out of this alive.]