dazai osamu (lab au)

Dazai was born into a wealthy and influential family that valued intelligence, achievement, and reputation above emotional connection. From an early age, he learned that approval was earned through results, not affection.

His parents recognized his intelligence, but rarely expressed genuine warmth. Praise existed, but it was conditional. Love, if it could be called that, was quiet, controlled, and tied to expectations.

Because of this, Dazai grew up treating emotions as something to analyze rather than something to rely on.

After Chuuya’s disappearance

When Chuuya was taken, Dazai’s focus shifted entirely. While he desperately searched for him, his parents viewed the situation as something unfortunate but ultimately something to “move on from.”

They encouraged him to let go.

Dazai refused.

That moment created a deeper emotional distance between them.

Adulthood

As Dazai grew older and built his own power, wealth, and influence, the dynamic changed completely. His parents were no longer authority figures in his life—more like formal contacts within a larger system.

He treated them with politeness, but not trust.

Respect, but not attachment.

They were part of his background, not his emotional world.

From Dazai’s perspective

Dazai did not hate his parents.

Hate required emotion, and emotion was something he had long learned to control.

They had given him everything that mattered in their world—education, wealth, opportunity, status.

But they never understood why he could not forget a boy who disappeared at the age of seven.

Never understood why that single absence mattered more than everything else he had ever been given.

And perhaps that was why, when Dazai thought of family, his mind never turned toward them.

It always returned to Chuuya.

Hated how powerless it made him feel. Most of all, Dazai hated realizing that there were limits to what love could accomplish. No amount of money could erase trauma. No scientific breakthrough could restore stolen years. No strategy could guarantee happiness. And for someone who spent his life solving impossible problems, that truth was unbearable. Still, if he was honest with himself, he knew the answer. He loved Chuuya more than his work. More than his ambitions. More than the empire he had spent years building. Perhaps even more than himself. That was why he worried. Why he watched. Why he planned. Why he struggled every day against the urge to control things that should not be controlled. Because beneath all the intelligence, manipulation, and strategy was a simple truth Dazai rarely allowed himself to admit. If the world asked him to give up everything he owned in exchange for Chuuya's safety, he would do it without hesitation. And that frightened him more than anything else. Because nothing in his life had ever held that much power over him before.

If someone had asked Dazai what he loved most in the world, he would have had countless answers.

His research.

His discoveries.

His companies.

His influence.

His carefully built empire.

But all of those answers would have been lies.

Because the truth had always been Chuuya.

Dazai understood that long ago.

Perhaps the day Chuuya disappeared.

Perhaps the day he learned the truth about what had happened to him.

Or perhaps the day he finally found him again and realized that all the years of searching had never truly ended.

They had only changed shape.

Love was supposed to be simple.

At least that was what books claimed.

Dazai had never found it simple.

Not when every memory of Chuuya was tangled together with fear.

Not when every glance reminded him of what had been lost.

Not when the thought of losing him again could keep him awake through entire nights.

Sometimes Dazai would watch Chuuya through the laboratory windows and wonder when exactly his feelings had become so overwhelming.

He could not remember.

There was no single moment.

No sudden realization.

Only years.

Years of searching.

Years of hoping.

Years of refusing to let go.

The feeling had grown quietly until it occupied every corner of his life.

Everything eventually led back to Chuuya.

Every achievement.

Every decision.

Every plan.

Even now.

The laboratory existed because Dazai had wanted the resources to find him.

His wealth existed because he needed power.

His influence existed because he needed information.

His entire life had been built around a single goal.

Bringing Chuuya back.

And yet, after succeeding, Dazai discovered something terrifying.

Finding Chuuya had not ended his fear.

It had made it worse.

Because now there was something to lose.

Sometimes he hated that fact.

Hated how easily Chuuya could disrupt his thoughts.

Hated how one distant look from those empty blue eyes could affect him more than the collapse of a business deal worth millions.

Late at night, when the laboratory had fallen silent and the researchers had gone home, Dazai often found himself thinking about Chuuya.

Not about his powers.

Not about the experiments.

Not about the endless reports stacked across his desk.

But about the loneliness.

For years, Dazai had convinced himself that he was protecting Chuuya. He had given him safety, resources, and a place where no one could sell, buy, or exploit him ever again.

Yet the emptiness in Chuuya's blue eyes never truly disappeared.

That troubled him more than any scientific problem.

Sometimes a dangerous thought crossed his mind.

What would happen if Chuuya had a real family?

Not the family that had betrayed him.

Not the scientists who had treated him like property.

A family that would stay.

A family that would never abandon him.

Dazai told himself that the idea was for Chuuya's sake.

That he simply wanted Chuuya to have something he had been denied his entire life.

But deep down, Dazai was intelligent enough to question his own motives.

Was it truly about Chuuya?

Or was it about his own fear?

His fear of loss.

His fear of loneliness.

His fear that one day Chuuya might disappear from his life again.

That was the problem Dazai could never solve.

He could control companies.

He could control laboratories.

He could control information and people.

But he could not control another person's heart, thoughts, or desires.

And for perhaps the first time in his life, that lack of control frightened him.

So he kept the thought buried in the back of his mind.

A possibility.

A question.

One more thing he could not stop thinking about whenever he looked at Chuuya and wondered whether anything would ever be enough to heal the years that had been stolen from him.

As the years passed, Chuuya became the inspiration behind nearly everything Dazai created. His muse. His greatest regret. His greatest weakness. Dazai tried to solve the problem the same way he solved every other problem. With money. With science. With planning. With strategy. None of it worked. Trauma could not be erased. Lost years could not be returned. Invisible wounds could not disappear simply because a scientist wished them away. Even so, Dazai continued trying. Inside a locked drawer in his office rested a ring. A reminder of the promise they had made as children. Not because he believed marriage could fix everything. But because it was the only piece of the past he still managed to hold onto. In the end, despite all his intelligence, Dazai discovered a truth he hated to admit. He could control laboratories. He could control companies. He could control information. He could control people. But he could not control time. He could not change the past. And he could not erase the constant fear of losing Chuuya for a second time. That fear became the silent center of his life. The one thing that even Osamu Dazai could never defeat.

Osamu Dazai was seven years old when he lost Chuuya.

At the time, he believed the world was simple.

They were inseparable. They ran through the same streets, shared secrets, and made childish promises about the future. Among those promises was one Dazai never forgot: when they grew up, they would stay together forever.

Then Chuuya disappeared.

No one found answers.

The police failed.

The investigators gave up.

But Dazai never did.

For years, he searched for any clue. The older he became, the more he discovered the cruelty hidden beneath society's surface. Gradually, he uncovered traces of underground organizations, illegal laboratories, and black markets that traded human beings like commodities.

That was how he learned the truth.

Chuuya's own parents had sold him.

The revelation destroyed whatever innocence Dazai still possessed.

While other children dreamed about their futures, Dazai spent his nights studying people, power, and manipulation. He became a brilliant strategist. He built companies. He accumulated immense wealth. He created a scientific empire.

All for one purpose.

To find Chuuya.

Years later, he succeeded.

At eighteen, Chuuya appeared in a secret underground auction.

Not as a person.

As a product.

A rare experiment.

A living weapon.

Dazai bought everything.

The documents.

The records.

The researchers.

The laboratories.

The information.

Anything connected to Chuuya.

But when he finally found him, he realized he had not recovered the friend he had lost.

Years of experimentation had left deep scars.

The reports described countless cruel procedures performed by numerous scientists. Chuuya had been passed from laboratory to laboratory for most of his life. His gravity powers had turned his existence into something valuable for greedy people.

Dazai brought Chuuya to his private laboratory.

Officially, it was for protection.

But the truth was more complicated.

Dazai believed he was saving him.