#dazai01

I mean, sure, he’s who knows where, fucktons of miles away from from his home and friends. He’s worried shitless about the people he’s left behind-- Akutagawa’s going to work himself to the bone, Kouyou’s going to be so pissed, he hopes Mori doesn’t send any of his men out on dangerous missions while he’s gone-- but for a long, long time (since the moment he made first contact with the Port Mafia) there’s always been this annoying pain that comes and goes and... It’s finally gone. Dazai Osamu is finally gone. 

No more triple checking his wine before he drinks it (because Dazai has no respect). No more false compliments about his shoes (because Dazai has just plain bad taste). No more finding the failed results of suicide attempts (because Dazai is Dazai).

With those sorts of thoughts, Chuuya stretches out, and lifts his cup to his lips. He takes a sip. Maybe, just maybe, he might miss that bandage maniac. Just the slightest part of him. It was Dazai who’d introduced him to the Port Mafia, and because of that Chuuya had found out what he was and had found his home. He owes Dazai for that, he thinks, and there’s the smallest pang in his chest that appears in his chest. If he were thinking of anyone else, he’d think it might even be sadness, but it was not, and so--

“Bleh. Must be indigestion,” he huffs, blowing on the dark bitter liquid in front of him. Coffee was not his favourite drink, he was tired from exploring Koi all of the night before so he had gone for something new today.

He takes another sip. Lets out a strangled cough. Spits it out.

“What the fuck? It’s curdled. It was fine just before...”

And thus begins the start of ‘Chuuya Nakahara and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day’. 

There wasn’t much excitement to Kyo’s days. They were more repetitive than anything, fearful that any enjoyment may suddenly disappear one day. But after being here for a month, Kyo realized that this may be a chance to enjoy life without the promises of isolation. He had to have fun.

There was no way wishes could be granted without anything in return. But what did they take? His life? He can’t remember his last day back at Yokohama, and while the theory holds some value... it simply won’t do. It is still too early to see Chuuya pacing around his room, momentarily ignoring the other people sleeping there.

There is suspicion, but some other part of him does not want to break free. But still he does. Selfishly following his goals were never his thing. It was more like Dazai’s. Speaking of which... if there was a magical place that could grant whatever your darkest, deepest wish... wasn’t his ex-partner a better target?

Arahabaki stirs, chained and the monstrous howl can be heard by no one but the man who looks puzzled by his current situation. He cannot use his powers, which were second nature to him. But still, he exists. The fact that he continues to exist means that they were not completely nullified or taken away. Sealed, perhaps.

He opens the door to face the freezing, biting cold. For some reason, the environment makes him think he feels almost welcome in this new place. Chuuya knows better, but it is almost impossible to shake these thoughts. Almost as if they were graved upon his very soul. The idea of losing control is uncomfortable. Maddening in some other situation, but now somewhat controlled.

No... instead of thinking about possible abductions, executions and whatnot... Chuuya feels worried. He adjusts his hat once more, bothered by the idea of losing something that was part of him for so long. Even back at Sheep, he prepared for situations that would eliminate the possibility of using his Ability. His actual skills would not be hindered, but that was far from the ideal situation. Nevermind that Mori would view his absence very terribly. Again, that weird feeling. The tiny voice in his head asking exactly why should he care about these things.

Again, he thinks he died. Uncomfortable, but nothing that can really verify this theory... so he presses on. He needs intel, and an opportunity quickly presents itself. ‘The Crystal Tavern’, they called. Maybe he could find some wine on top of all of this. He sure could use a drink. The place is comfortable, and while the sight of the owner takes him aback for a few seconds... what really surprises him is the silhouette of a familiar figure. It is almost as if this place has read his mind, again. Or maybe Dazai himself did. His steps are heavy, and the warm atmosphere just seems to stoke the fires of his (admittedly very short) temper. 

“I was starting to think this place was fishy, but to see you around...”

Normally, he would kick the table in his direction as a warning sign. Or simply disrupt the so-called ‘peace and quiet’ of the man who was still ignoring him, drinking his stupid cheap sake. He wasn’t mistaken. There was only one person in the world that could set him off this quickly, to get a reaction out of someone who would normally try to take things in stride. 

“... was it you? Even if you had cash saved, this is going too far to be a prank.”

Unless Dazai had a way of magically sealing his stuff away and making him feel things he was not supposed to feel. Chuuya pushes his anxiety aside, slamming his hand against the table his ex-partner was so happily sitting and drinking at.

“Eh, Dazai? What is this about?”

There are many things you can do when you’re in an unfamiliar area-- explore, investigate, ponder. Those are all things Kyouka has done, and while she didn’t get much information, she did find many food stores littered around this tiny town. A logical and cautious person wouldn’t dare try anything out, in case there’s a trick or something in the food.

But she thinks with her stomach! So here she is, entering Flybucks with her dragon around her shoulder (her name is Violet! It took her way too long to decide on one). She orders a simple coffee and a cupcake, holding her items as she scans the tables. There aren’t that many people around... except for the fact that someone very familiar is sitting near the window. She stares for a moment, face blank as she processes what she’s seeing.

Dazai...?

Since when was he here? Kyouka doesn’t have a clue, but she can’t deny the relief she feels that there’s somewhere else she knows here. Should she go up to him? She doesn’t want to intrude, but she finds herself walking to his table and tapping his shoulder.

❝ Dazai-san. ❞

(closed starter for @osamudiezai​ )   He....he had to work harder, had to make up to everyone he’d ‘let down and failed’ who’d died in the underwater incident because his powers hadn’t been enough to help any of them, he’d been no help to anyone, and the guilt continually gnawed at him: though it was slightly less on putting his all into helping the living, not putting ‘rest’ in mind and pushing himself for their sake - yet the fact of the matter was that he had not realised that refusing to ‘think of himself’ out of the misguided assumption the deaths under the waves was ‘his burden’ to shoulder only left him tired, exhausted. Pushing himself so hard constantly - it of course resulted in collapse, and a few passers-by scattered in alarm at sleep dust fluttering off the psychologist: a Counting Sheep appearing just in time and cushioning the fall. ...Their beloved friend Sylvester, their creator, was in danger. The sheep knew that much, but who to help...? The large sheep looked around for someone, anyone - trotting to the closest person they could find and baaing in quiet, yet pleading a manner. Would they help? The sheep kept giving a big puppy-dog eyes look to the hapless stranger who’d come across them...

It had been some time since Takumi had slept on a train, or just be on a train in general. Most trains in his world were pretty destroyed due to one despair filled weirdo or another, and even if they weren’t it wasn’t worth risking most days that your train would be the next. So, public transport was a bad idea. Takumi forgot how lulling a nice swaying motion could be.

He gave in quite quickly to the temptation. It was a losing battle from the start. How could he have possibly known that this train could cast such a spell on him? How foolish he was. Now not only did he make a stranger miss their own stop, he had missed his own. Whoops. As Takumi awoke, he stared up at this strange man, examining him the best sleepy eyes could. Now, he thought about how to go about this situation. As much as he just wanted to go back to sleep on the man, he doubted that was an option.