Due to an unprecedented fling when Chuuya was twenty and severely drunk, through a lapse of better judgment (protection), the redhead had a daughter. A five year old, now. In a few months, six. The kid couldn’t take care of herself, but Chuuya was a busy man. He didn’t have all day to spend fussing over a child, for crying out loud.

Not to mention, the baby’s mother was a total deadbeat whom Chuuya had only met once. He woke up to the child, Hikaru, in his bed, cuddling with a note telling Chuuya it was ‘his responsibility now for getting her pregnant’ and a bunch of other bullshit.

So, yeah. In summary: Chuuya has a kid, and he needs a babysitter. Desperately.

This news ends up miraculously falling on the desk of a particular, brunet college student—only a few strings pulled—who’s in a crunch for money for new, insanely overpriced textbooks. It wouldn’t hurt to apply, would it? The poor guy seemed pretty desperate over the phone, anyway.

So, here Dazai was, standing at the foot of a gigantic mansion. Growing up on the South Side and being relatively poor in general, Dazai was floored when an entire butler came out to fetch him from his car.

“Right this way, Dazai, sir,” he guided the brunet through the winding hallways of the estate, before entering into a living room which was entirely furnished (something Dazai’s broke college-kid ass has never seen), with high ceilings, and a chandelier as well.

Chuuya was standing in the center of the room, his daughter hanging off of him like a monkey, crying about how she didn’t want him to leave, and didn’t want a babysitter.

When she finally got settled, Chuuya gave Dazai an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to excuse Hikaru, she’s quite..” he trailed off with a small shrug, hoping Dazai understood.