Archive of Our Own

Dazai felt like a shell, a body working on autopilot with nothing inside it, and it was very possible that was true.

When was the last time he had eaten? Eating didn’t matter to him, and not eating did nothing, as he found out after trying to starve himself to death. It was the same for drinking. He once jumped off one of the protective walls surrounding the nearest large city and broke a leg and an arm and ended up with a terrible concussion, but he didn’t die.

Dazai regretted two things in life.

The first was that he’d believed a man named Mori Ougai who said he was testing something that might kill him. Dazai had been helping him gather materials for his various experiments with magical potions and different spells because he was smart and quick on his feet. He’d been on the streets since a young age and didn’t see the point in living any longer if misery on the streets was all life had to offer, so he took risks that would put his life in danger. This was the biggest risk of all.

He believed the man when he drank the strange golden liquid he’d created, and then he didn’t die.

He killed the man and then tried to kill himself, and he couldn’t. He tried over and over again and never succeeded. He could get injured and he could get sick, but he couldn’t cross over into death.

This first regret led to the second. Dazai met a skilled hunter who had taken in a group of orphans and befriended him. His name was Odasaku, and Dazai had never met someone so good. Odasaku had killed people before, but he was trying to stop and be someone that these children could depend on.

Old enemies found Odasaku and killed him and the children. Dazai regretted being unable to save them. He wished he could somehow give the endless life he had to Odasaku and his children, but he couldn’t, so he just watched them die.

That’s when he started to try to kill himself in earnest. Surely there was a loophole to the thing Mori had created. He’d searched Mori’s place for an antidote or something that he could use to reverse the effects of the potion but couldn’t find anything. He went to a few people in the city well-versed in magic, and they had nothing for him, because no one had thought that a reversal to immortality would be necessary when immortality didn’t exist in the first place. Eventually he gave up. Years passed. He didn’t get close to anyone. Odasaku had shown him the pain of surviving the loss of someone you cared about.

He couldn’t tell if this potion allowed him to age normally or not. It hadn’t been long enough, but he had aged properly from when he had been given the potion at fifteen onwards. He had nightmares about aging to the point where his body was falling apart at the seams, and yet it wouldn’t give out. He would be trapped in a body that couldn’t function, a prison he could never escape.

He’d lost hope until he began hearing things. Rumors in the city about someone who had killed many people and had fled once he was caught. They referred to the man as a demon. By asking around Dazai found out that he had only been in the city a short while before needing to leave, and that people died when they touched him. That was intriguing. It sounded like a kind of magic, and if anything could counter magic, it was other magic.

Apparently he was hiding in the forest somewhere, but no one knew how far away he’d gone or even which part of the forest he might be in. It had been a long time since anyone had last seen him, so they assumed he was far away and not coming back. Dazai got a name out of them: Chuuya. Apparently Chuuya had red hair and blue eyes, so he would be hard to miss.

Dazai decided to investigate.

For anyone else it would be a stupid endeavor given how vast the forest was, but Dazai didn’t have to worry about food or water or the cold. He could walk until the skin of his feet was falling off and he’d be fine. He wouldn’t do that because it would be uncomfortable, but he could survive in the forest for a very long time.

And he did. It took a long time before he caught a glimpse of something that wasn’t an animal. It was a person who seemed to be kneeling over something. Dazai walked over, quiet, and hid behind a bush.

The man did have red hair, which was partially covered by the hood of a cloak. Dazai watched as he slipped off his gloves, and it was then that Dazai saw what he was kneeling over. It was a deer that had been bleeding out. It looked dead, but Chuuya didn’t seem to have an interest in carving it up for meat. Instead, he pressed his hands into the wound on its neck.

There was a soft glow. Dazai felt both impressed and disappointed when the deer started moving again.

“Alright,” he heard Chuuya mutter.

Dazai felt like he'd wasted all that time for nothing, but he still wanted to take a look, just in case, because he didn’t want to have found who he was looking for without at the very least talking to him and seeing if he had anything to offer.

He stood up, noting that Chuuya’s hands were still bare, and walked towards him.

Chuuya was still looking at the deer and by the time he noticed Dazai coming at him, he was too late. He stumbled to his feet, clearly intending to run, but Dazai grabbed his wrist. In the second between touching Chuuya’s skin and what happened next, he saw Chuuya’s face drain of all color.

Some kind of pain spread from his fingertips down his arm, and then it reached his heart. His chest felt too heavy and he gasped for breath. He could feel his heart pounding in every inch of his body like it was struggling against something, and then it slowed down. Dazai felt faint.

His heart stopped, his hand slipped off Chuuya’s wrist, and he fell to the ground, on the verge of passing out. On the verge of dying, he realized, his entire body growing cold.

And then his heart started up again, erratic. Dazai felt sick and he couldn’t tell if it was the emotion from almost dying and then coming back to life anyway, of feeling himself fading only to have that feeling reversed, or if it was the very physical reality of his heart stopping and starting again affecting his body.

Either way, he rolled over and on to his knees just in time to empty his stomach.

There wasn't much in there, just bile, and the sick feeling didn’t leave when he was finished. He tried to stand and that’s when a gloved hand grabbed him by the front of his cloak and pulled him up.

Dazai was about to say something when he was roughly thrown back, landing in a heap on the ground.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Chuuya’s voice was angry but with a hint of something else there — fear, if Dazai had to guess. His brain was working in overdrive to try to put the pieces together.

“I’m actually rather intelligent,” Dazai said. “I just want to die.”

He looked up just in time to see Chuuya freeze.

“You…”

“I want to die,” Dazai said. “I thought you’d be the one to kill me. I looked all over for you because I heard that no one could survive your touch. You should be honored I’ve come this far.” He actually had no idea where he was. “Imagine my disappointment when I saw you bring that deer back to life. And my greater disappointment when I lived after almost dying.”

A sudden pain burst from his cheek to the rest of his face. Chuuya had punched him. Dazai swayed on the spot, seeing stars, and spat blood on the ground. His ears were ringing, which meant that he wasn’t listening to whatever Chuuya was saying.

And Chuuya was saying a lot. Dazai caught the last part of it once his head stopped spinning.

“ — should gut you and leave your body out for the animals to slowly eat away at you, or maybe you’ll rot. The fuck do you think you can use me for?”

“You can do that, but I won’t die,” Dazai pointed out.

“Good.” Chuuya’s eyes were hard. Dazai genuinely believed that Chuuya, right now, would take some kind of satisfaction in watching Dazai slowly suffer such a horrible thing as being slowly eaten by animals.

“Aren’t you curious?” Dazai asked. His eyes moved from Chuuya’s gloved hands to his face. “Am I the first person you’ve touched who didn’t die?”

Chuuya glared at him. “I wish you weren’t.”

“I saw your face,” Dazai said. “You didn’t want me to die. You were upset that I touched you. You looked...ill.”

Chuuya massaged his wrist where Dazai had touched it. “I saw your face too,” he shot back. “When you started to come around again. Must suck to not get what you came for.”

Dazai could tell that he was pissed off at being used. If Dazai were a person more in tune with emotions, he might have felt bad, but he wasn’t because in his kind of life he couldn’t be. Emotions led to suffering. Especially emotions like guilt.

“I shouldn’t have been surprised,” Dazai said. “Like I said, I can’t die.”

Chuuya stared at him. “What?”

“A while back someone made me immortal with a potion,” Dazai said. “I’ve been trying to kill myself ever since. I guess even your magic can’t help me.”

“How long have you been that way?” Chuuya asked.

“A few years.”

“A few — “ Chuuya looked shocked. “Why the hell are you trying to die already if it’s only been a few years?”

“It only takes a few years to realize how terrible it is to outlive everything,” Dazai said. “To live through all your injuries and illnesses, to imagine what will come next. Besides, I wanted to die when I was given the potion. That didn’t change.”

“Then why did you take it?” Chuuya asked.

“Good question,” Dazai said. “I ask myself that every day. Anyway, I guess I’ll leave you to...whatever it was you were doing.”

Chuuya glanced behind him. The deer was gone. Dazai turned to leave when he heard Chuuya call out, “wait!”

Dazai stopped and turned around.

Chuuya’s face was blank, but it looked like there had been an emotion there seconds before that he’d tried to hide. “We both can’t fix our problems.”

“You look like you can fix yours just fine,” Dazai said. “You brought that deer back to life.” Maybe that was why he’d survived. “Did you bring me back to life too?”

“No,” Chuuya said, and Dazai’s hope that maybe he could try again vanished. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then how —”

“I’m trying to get to this town,” Chuuya interrupted, “to visit a man who apparently helps people control magic they can’t control. You can join me or...not.” He looked like he was on the fence between wanting Dazai’s company and wanting him to leave.

Dazai was willing to take any lead he could get. “Even if the magic doesn’t belong to them?”

Chuuya shrugged. “Don’t know. Some hunter told me but didn’t get that specific. Just told me about the man and gave me his address.”

“You live in the forest?” Dazai asked, looking around.

“Not here, but sort of. I was on my way to this town.”

Dazai clapped his hands together, smiling. “Then I’ll join you! You are going to love my company, Chuuya, I promise.”

Chuuya grimaced. “What’s your name?”

Ordinarily, Dazai wouldn’t give out his name because it was dangerous for other people to have it. But he was at the end of his rope. “Dazai Osamu.”

“Fine, Dazai,” Chuuya said. “Don’t piss me off.”

*

Dazai had every intention of pissing Chuuya off, but he also wanted to find out more about him, so he couldn’t piss him off too much.

They walked in silence, Chuuya clearly deep in thought, until it started to get dark. Chuuya found them a clearing and built a small fire. Dazai had noticed that he had a small bag with him, which had a blanket and flasks to keep water in, as well as some clothes, but not much else. He kept a knife strapped to his side, which seemed redundant to Dazai given his powers.

Once they sat by the fire Dazai said, “what was with the deer?”

“I’ve been testing and re-testing my powers just in case there’s a loophole in there somewhere,” Chuuya said. “If I kill something with my knife, or if it’s dead when I find it, I can bring it back. If I touch it and it dies, I can’t. So I guess that part of my magic only works if the other part of my magic isn’t the cause of death.”

“You were going to touch the deer to see if you could bring it back again,” Dazai said. “Even though you know what the result will be, you keep hoping there will be a time when it’s different. Have you always been alone, Chuuya?”

Chuuya shrugged. His eyes were dark even in the glow of the fire. “Have you?” He sighed. “In the past few years I have been. It’s too easy to make mistakes around people. It’s surprisingly easy to touch someone skin-to-skin even when you’re trying to avoid it.”

“Especially in a city,” Dazai said. “But you need to go into cities and towns to survive, at least for a night or two. It sounded like you’d been in the city longer, though.”

Chuuya didn’t say anything.

“I wonder why you’d stay there if it’s so easy to accidentally...Chuuya.” A thought occurred to Dazai. “Were you born this way?”

Chuuya laughed. “Only a few people’s magic is active when they’re born,” he said. “Mine developed when I was eight.”

Eight. Dazai didn’t ask how old Chuuya was, because Chuuya looked his age. Either way, that was over a decade of not being able to touch anyone.

Chuuya was rubbing his wrist again.

“Did you kill your parents?”

“You’re really fucking nosy,” Chuuya snapped. “Did you kill yours?”

“I left them,” Dazai said. “I can only guess what you did to your family.” Maybe he was crossing the line between pissing Chuuya off enough to be fun and pissing him off enough that Chuuya would try to leave him in the forest.

“I don’t remember,” Chuuya said. He stood up. “I’m tired. I don’t know if you sleep or not, but I’m going to sleep.” He grabbed his bag and shifted so that he was laying down, using the bag as a pillow.

Dazai watched as he closed his eyes. He was still tense, though, and he remained that way for a while. Eventually Dazai stood up, grabbing his own bag, and went over to kneel at Chuuya’s side.

“When was the last time someone touched you?” he asked.

“A few hours ago when you grabbed me,” Chuuya murmured. “Don’t try it again.”

Dazai rummaged in his bag for his gloves, which he slipped on. He reached out to touch Chuuya’s hair.

The second Dazai made contact, Chuuya jerked away and sat up. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dazai held up his hands. “Giving you something you’re missing.”

“Don’t act like you care,” Chuuya snapped. “You were going to use me a few hours ago, and now you’re probably just trying to test something. I don’t know what it is, but I want you to stop.”

Dazai lowered his hands. It was true that he was trying to test something with Chuuya. He wanted to see how someone like Chuuya reacted to touch — more specifically, a touch that wouldn’t kill the other person.

“Fine,” he said, setting his bag down a few feet away from Chuuya and laying down.

Chuuya lowered himself back to the ground, facing him. “Don’t you want to sleep by the fire?”

“I won’t die of the cold,” Dazai said. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not.” Chuuya closed his eyes again and Dazai wondered whether he’d really sleep this time or not.

Either way, he wasn’t interested in watching Chuuya sleep. He turned on to his back to stare at the sky. Trees prevented him from seeing the full extent of the stars except for the small patch over the clearing they were in. Odasaku’s orphans had taken a lot of delight in learning about the different constellations, and making up their own with their vivid imaginations.

Touch was interesting. Dazai had countless scars — from his parents, from himself — that he didn’t want anyone to see. He had grown up with touches that hurt. The first time Odasaku hugged him, he almost cried, and he wasn’t the type to allow himself such strong emotions. The last time Odasaku hugged him was the last gentle hug he’d had, and he did cry that time.

Those years with Odasaku and the orphans almost made Dazai forget about his immortality, and the years after added more scars to his body until he almost forgot what it was like to feel something against his skin that didn’t cause pain. Even now the cold bit at his exposed face, causing it to sting.

The bandages didn’t hurt unless there was a wound under them. They were thin, soft, not overwhelming but still reassuringly there.

Touch had probably ingrained itself in Chuuya as a bad thing no matter what type of touch it was, because it led to death. This chance to change that was probably the first chance Chuuya had. He wondered how long Chuuya had been traveling in the forest, and then he thought about how it probably wasn’t terribly different to how he normally lived life, traveling from place to place alone, trying to avoid people at all costs.

He wondered how frustrating it was to be able to bring someone back to life with that same touch, but only if they were killed by something other than Chuuya’s own deadly magic.

At some point those thoughts carried him to sleep and when he opened his eyes, the sky was a light pink color. He turned to find Chuuya gone but his bag still there.

He sat up, his limbs feeling like they’d snap from the cold if he moved. He shivered as he looked at the dying fire and sluggishly stood up to get more branches.

It was slow work, but he managed to get the fire going again. Chuuya reappeared with strips of animal meat and smiled at the sight of the fire.

“That saves me some trouble,” he said.

Dazai watched as he cooked the meat slowly. “When we get to this town, are you going to ask to have your magic completely taken from you?”

“Don’t know,” Chuuya said. One of the strips of meat finished cooking and he tossed it to Dazai. “I don’t even know if that’s possible. If you get your immortality reversed are you gonna kill yourself right then and there?”

That would be ideal, but a bit impolite. “I’d probably wait until no one else was around.”

Chuuya sighed. “I guess that’s the best you can do.”

They sat in silence as Chuuya finished cooking the meat and packed some of it away for later before eating his own piece. Then he put out the fire and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

Dazai slipped on a pair of gloves, noting how cold it still was, and followed.

Their walk was just as quiet as their meal. Neither of them, it seemed, was used to talking, or they were both too used to silence. It was familiar and it was comfortable, which was surprising. Dazai found that although he was comfortable in silence by himself, there were few people he felt comfortable sharing silence with. Most people felt the need to talk as if that gave value to the time they had together. Odasaku had known the value of silence. He’d been a pretty quiet man himself.

Yet he felt completely at ease walking in silence with Chuuya.

He didn’t know how long they walked. Dazai had no end to his endurance because he couldn’t die, even if his muscles ached and he felt tired and light-headed. Chuuya seemed to not get tired at all. Occasionally they exchanged a few words and at one point nearly got into an argument when Dazai suggested that Chuuya had no idea where he was going.

Eventually it started getting darker and the temperature dropped. Chuuya found a clearing and set down his bag. When he looked at Dazai his eyes widened.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might be,” Dazai said. He sat down.

“Whatever. I’ll get the fire started,” Chuuya said, heading off into the forest.

Dazai took some water from Chuuya’s bag and drank it, feeling better now that he was sitting. When Chuuya came back and started working to make the fire, he didn’t move.

“You don’t do this sort of thing for yourself when you’re out here, do you,” Chuuya said.

“Why would I?” Dazai asked. “I won’t — “

“Die, I know,” Chuuya interrupted. “Doesn’t mean you have to feel like shit wherever you go.”

Dazai blinked. He was so used to trying to die that it never occurred to him to feel comfortable. He didn’t want to get too attached to this world, so he did everything he could to make himself feel outside of it, or to feel awful in it. If he wanted to die, it wasn’t worth wasting time and resources to make himself feel good while he waited.

Chuuya had turned away from him again. He got the fire started and sat down next to Dazai, looking exhausted. “I think we should reach the town tomorrow,” he said.

“That’s good,” Dazai said.

“I hope he’s nice,” Chuuya said. “This man.”

“Yeah.” Dazai didn’t want to put too much hope in this man. Everything else had been a disappointment.

“If he can help us, we’ll know pretty quickly,” Chuuya added.

“Less time to get our hopes up,” Dazai said.

“You’re a pessimist.”

“If you’re an optimist then you’re an idiot, Chuuya.”

“Shut up. I’m not. I just don’t want to give up before I get there.”

Dazai yawned, not really interested in talking about the likelihood of either of their problems being solved tomorrow. “I’m going to sleep.”

Without waiting for Chuuya’s reaction, he shifted to lay down. This time, at least, he was close to the fire.

Somehow, maybe it was the exhaustion from the day or the warmth of the fire, he fell asleep quickly.

*

A scream tore through the forest and Dazai was torn out of his sleep.

He sat up, gasping for air from the shock as he looked around. Maybe it was a sound from his dream that carried over into waking up. That happened sometimes.

Another scream that sounded a bit more like a sob pierced the air and Dazai realized it wasn’t part of his dream at all. It was Chuuya.

Chuuya was thrashing around in his sleep. He’d gone to lay down on the opposite side of the fire as Dazai.

Dazai scrambled up and made his way over to shake Chuuya awake. Then he realized that he might accidentally touch something that wasn’t covered and even though he wouldn’t die, it would be unpleasant and he’d be out of commission for a bit, which wouldn’t help. He noticed Chuuya was still wearing gloves and looked down at his own hands, which were still gloved as well, because he hadn’t bothered to take them off earlier when they settled into their make-shift camp.

He reached out and grabbed Chuuya’s shoulder, shaking him.

Chuuya jerked up and if Dazai hadn’t anticipated the movement, he would’ve been hit in the chin by Chuuya’s head. He let go of Chuuya and moved back as Chuuya looked up, face pale and eyes wide.

“It’s just a dream,” Dazai said, because Chuuya looked as though he was seeing through Dazai rather than actually seeing him. “You’re in the forest, Chuuya.”

Chuuya gasped for air, his breath hitching. Dazai remembered when he had nightmares and woke up Odasaku with his screaming. Odasaku would come into the room and hug him sometimes, or stroke his hair, or just sit with him if Dazai didn’t want to be touched.

Chuuya was staring at Dazai like he couldn’t comprehend why he was there.

“Chuuya, it was just a dream,” Dazai repeated. It occurred to him that it might not be. Some dreams were formed of memories and even if the details were different, they brought up the same feelings. Those were the dreams that had forced Dazai awake in the middle of the night.

“I woke you up,” Chuuya said, his voice hoarse. He turned away, hiding his face. “Sorry, I — we should go back to sleep.”

Dazai noticed that Chuuya was shaking.

He’d never been good at comfort and he had a perfect excuse not to comfort Chuuya right now. But he was also the only one who could comfort Chuuya, not just here but possibly anywhere. He couldn’t tell Chuuya that things would be okay but he didn’t think Chuuya would believe such a lie anyway. He could, however, offer Chuuya physical comfort.

He moved closer and raised a hand to brush against Chuuya’s hair.

Chuuya jerked away. “What are you doing?”

“When was the last time you were touched gently?” Dazai asked.

“Dazai...not now.” Chuuya’s eyes were on his hand, still a few inches away.

“I’m serious,” Dazai said. “Lay down.”

“Dazai — “

“I won’t die.”

Chuuya looked at Dazai’s face and then at his gloved hand before finally lying down.

He was facing Dazai.

That made things a bit difficult. Dazai had planned on rubbing his back, but Chuuya apparently didn’t want to have Dazai out of sight.

He adjusted his plans so that he was just running his fingers through Chuuya’s hair instead. He imagined that it was soft, maybe not overly so since it would have been a few days since Chuuya had been able to get to a town to wash it, but soft enough. He kept doing that, making sure his movements were slow and gentle.

Chuuya’s breath hitched and Dazai looked down. He was biting his lip, and when he squeezed his eyes shut tears fell. Dazai didn’t say a word about it as Chuuya continued to silently cry. He simply kept stroking his hair until finally, Chuuya’s breaths evened out and he fell asleep.

Dazai couldn’t sleep. He sat next to Chuuya until the sun rose thinking about what had happened and unsure why it made him feel heavy and uneasy.

That morning Chuuya woke up and wiped his face even though it was dry, quietly thanked Dazai, and together they had a silent breakfast until it was time to leave.

*

The town was small enough that even if Chuuya hadn’t been given an address, they probably would have been able to find who they were looking for pretty quickly.

Chuuya was noticeably more alert when they got into the town, every line of his body tense as they walked among the people there. He had the hood of his cloak pulled up over his head so that his hair wouldn’t be exposed, his gloves on, a scarf wrapped around his neck, every inch of him covered except his face, which people couldn’t really see.

The place they were looking for was on the other side of town. On the door, Dazai read characters that spelled out “Fukuzawa” and assumed that was the man’s name.

Chuuya took a shaky breath. Clearly he had already put more hope in this than Dazai had.

Then he knocked on the door.

It took a few moments for it to open, revealing a middle-aged man in a forest-green robe. He had long grey hair and hard eyes, which he passed over the both of them before saying, “come in.”

Dazai was surprised that he didn’t even ask why they were there, but he didn’t question it as they stepped inside.

Fukuzawa’s home was exactly that — a home. There were several cats crawling under foot, causing Chuuya to freeze at the door, and everything from the walls to the furniture to the actual color of the cats looked warm despite Fukuzawa’s cold demeanor.

Fukuzawa turned to look at them when he realized that neither of them was coming in further.

“My name is Fukuzawa Yukichi, but I’m assuming you already know that. People come to me when they can’t control their magic, or have some other issue regarding magic outside of their control,” he said. “Is that not why you’re here?”

“It is,” Dazai said. “My name is Dazai and this is Chuuya. I was given some kind of potion to make me immortal by a man called Mori Ougai — “ here he noticed Fukuzawa’s look of distaste and assumed they knew each other “— and it worked. But I don’t want to be immortal. He told me...something else would happen.”

“He did always like to experiment on others,” Fukuzawa said. “Especially the vulnerable. I was aware that he was trying to do such a thing but not that he had succeeded. He died a few years ago.”

“I killed him,” Dazai said.

Fukuzawa didn’t seem bothered by that. His gaze fixed on Chuuya. “And you?”

“I have magic,” Chuuya said. “I can’t control it. Anything I make skin-to-skin contact with dies. I can also bring dead things back to life, but not anything that died as a result of my magic.”

Fukuzawa considered that.“The universe always tries to balance itself out. With life comes death, and it has tried to create this same balance within one individual — you.”

Chuuya nodded.

Fukuzawa’s lips twitched. “For years I attempted to create an antidote to immortality should Mori ever succeed in gaining it, and it lacked one ingredient: the blood of someone whose magic deals in life or death. So it is lucky of you two to come together.”

Dazai, despite himself, felt his heart lift.

“Step into the kitchen,” Fukuzawa said. “The cats won’t get hurt.”

Cautiously, Dazai and Chuuya went into the kitchen, which was just as warm as the rest of the house. The space was cramped, with a small counter taking up most of the middle of the room leaving only a little space between it and the counters that bordered the walls.

One of the cats jumped up in front of Chuuya and before he could move away, batted a paw at his face.

Chuuya breathed in sharply, going completely still —

And the cat leapt onto Dazai’s shoulder, alive.

Chuuya stared at it.

Before either of them could say anything, Fukuzawa returned with a small bottle of dark liquid and a knife. He took the stopper out of the bottle and held out his hand.

“I’ll kill you,” Chuuya said, noting that Fukuzawa’s hands were bare and that he would have to take off his own gloves for Fukuzawa to take his blood.

“You won’t,” Fukuzawa said. “Did you kill my cat?”

Chuuya stood still.

“I promise you,” Fukuzawa said. “My own kind of magic protects me from yours. Or rather, it protects everyone here temporarily from yours. I can use my magic to suppress the effects of others’ magic to various degrees.”

Slowly, taking a shaky breath, Chuuya slipped off the glove of his right hand and held it out.

Fukuzawa took it and nothing happened. Chuuya visibly relaxed even as Fukuzawa sliced open his palm before tipping his hand to allow the blood to drip into the vial. The liquid turned pitch black.

Fukuzawa released Chuuya’s hand. “My magic can allow you to control yours if you give me permission to enact it on you permanently. However, as I said, the universe tries to balance itself out. You would still have a limit to your powers.”

“What is it?” Chuuya asked, voice tight.

“You would no longer take the lives of others with your touch,” Fukuzawa said, “and you would still be able to bring the dead back to life, but each time, you would be killing more of yourself. That would take a while to heal from, so if you used that power too often, or several times too close together, you would die rather quickly. It’s possible you could still lose years off your life no matter how infrequently you use it.”

Dazai expected Chuuya to think on it for some time, but Chuuya immediately said, “I’ll do it.” He took a deep breath. “I give you full permission to change how my magic works into what you just told me.”

Fukuzawa nodded. “Consider it done.”

Dazai didn’t know how he felt about that. He didn’t know how often Chuuya would bring things back to life, how much guilt he’d want to make up for now that he couldn’t hurt anyone except himself with his magic. He got the feeling Chuuya would feel that guilt forever, and it could very well kill him if he was left alone with it.

Fukuzawa turned to Dazai. “If you drink the contents of the vial, it will reverse the effects of Mori’s potion.”

Dazai reaches for the vial. “It’s disgusting that I have to drink Chuuya’s blood,” he muttered before downing the whole thing on one go.

It tasted like copper. Dazai had expected it to taste like death or rotting things, but the overwhelming taste was of blood. He placed the vial down and felt dizzy.

“How do I know it worked?” He asked.

“You die,” Chuuya said. He looked at Fukuzawa. “How can we repay you?”

“There is no need,” Fukuzawa said.

“But —“

“Perhaps one day I might need assistance,” Fukuzawa said, “but I won’t hold you to any promise.”

Chuuya nodded. “Thank you. I — there are no words...just...thank you.”

“Yes. Thank you for everything,” Dazai said quietly. He put a hand on Chuuya’s shoulder. “Come on, Chuuya.”

Together they left the house, both of them somewhat shaken at how quickly things had changed. It wasn’t until they reached the road that Chuuya stopped. Dazai was glad he did, because he felt heavy and strange, his heart beating too fast, his throat fight at the idea of leaving this place alone.

Chuuya turned to him, cupping his cheek in his hand.

Dazai was shocked. Chuuya’s hand was rough but warm, and gentle. Chuuya smiled at him before closing the distance between them in a gentle kiss.

“I wanted to do that before you...if you...look, I don’t want you to die,” Chuuya said. “I just met you and you’re the first person I’ve talked to in a while but...I can’t stop you. I just wanted to say goodbye first.”

Dazai’s voice caught in his throat and he managed to choke out one word: “Chuuya.”

He could have gone into the forest to slit his wrists and he knew he would die if he did it. He could do it right now. But he didn’t move, looking into Chuuya’s eyes and seeing nothing hidden in there. All of the emotions Chuuya felt were clear — happiness, sadness, maybe some anger, possibly at Dazai wanting to die, a bit of hope...

Dazai thought of how Chuuya’s entire life was full of loss, how everyone who ever touched him had been taken from him, and yet he still wanted the company of other people. How he wanted to be able to care about people without losing them, and he wanted to be cared about, and he pushed past that fear despite having it reinforced over and over again.

How he still let himself care about Dazai knowing that Dazai wanted to die.

And Dazai cared about him, too, he realized. He had wanted Chuuya to feel a gentle touch from the only person who could give him one, if Chuuya could never control his magic.

Now he didn’t have forever. Now he had a limited amount of time and there was something comforting in that, but now he found he also wanted to use it, at least for a little while. He thought he’d found something to use it for. He could at least try.

“Dazai,” Chuuya said, a bit questioning, a bit hopeful, his hand still resting on Dazai’s cheek.

Dazai realized that he had grabbed the front of Chuuya’s cloak. “What if we spent some more time together?”

“You’d annoy the shit out of me,” Chuuya said, but he was smiling.

“So is that a yes?” Dazai was smiling too.

Chuuya didn’t move his hand, and Dazai enjoyed the feeling of warmth against his skin.

“Yes.”