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“Good morning, Commodore Nakahara!” The cadet shot to his feet, so fast he looked like he floated off above the ground in some attempt at being a ghost. The book he was reading, unfortunately, went splat onto the floor in his haste. Horror ran through his being but he stared dead into Chuuya’s gaze. He hadn’t been dismissed yet and it would be an utter disrespect to not give the one of the Great Five Commodores a proper salute.
Chuuya hid a smile. New cadets were entertaining to watch in their haste to salute any higher ups. Most of them didn’t realize they could put their stuff away before standing up. It wasn’t like he would immediately shout at them for a delayed salute. (That fell onto Ace the Jewel King, whom he disliked). The white-haired cadet looked like his soul might escape through his nostrils soon so Chuuya spared him. He snapped a brief salute back.
“At ease.”
“Sir!” Tension visibly escaped the cadet’s body as he sat back down. Chuuya bit his lips to contain the laughter. He had mentally added the farty noise of air escaping a balloon to the cadet at that moment. It would be in undignified manner if he broke into hysterical laughter now. Instead, he bent down and picked up the book on the floor.
“Worst Terror at Sea, Volume 5.” He murmured, smoothing his fingers over the raised silver letters on the velvet spine of the book. How contradictory, a beautiful book about horror. “I never know volume 5 is out.”
He extended the book back to the cadet, who took it with trembling hands as if reading anything not related to stratagem and tactics was punishable by forced discharge. (That fell into Kouyou the Golden Demon’s hands. Ane-san just liked to be mean. He knew she had a soft spot for fresh recruits).
“It was out yesterday, sir.” The cadet mumbled, hugging the book closer to his chest. “I, uh, have read the previous four books and this is the last one in the series so I want to, uhm, finish this fast.”
“Interesting.” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, and — what’s better way to get to know new recruits than chatting with them about their hobby — flopped himself down on the chair opposite from the cadet. “I remember the first four books were about sea monsters, sirens, sky demons, and mortal thalassic delicacies. What is this one about?”
The cadet looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than here in Chuuya’s presence. Under the sunlight that coils around the quaint library, the cadet’s white hair glowed like the moon. Sweat beaded along his forehead and his pupils grew large in fear, almost cat-like. The cadet had the eyes for doing good deeds, but not the spine for carrying them out. Chuuya sighed. He tried to make his presence less intense by slouching in his chair, which left him a head shorter than the ramrod sitting cadet. Damn it he was not scary at all. He barely scraped the 5”3 minimum height benchmark with his thick hair. He was short and tiny and the nicest of all Great Five Commodores if he had anything to say for himself. He even held a civil conversation with others other than the other Commodores and Boss Admiral!
The cadet took his time to calm himself down. Chuuya fancied himself with analyzing the cadet. The cadet looked barely into adulthood, 18 years old at most. He held a nervous energy in every minute movement — thumbs twisting, lips biting, darting eyes, tapping feet tapping. The gold inscription on his hat indicated he was going to be under Chuuya’s division, the SAF — Special Attack Force. The cadet raised a hand to scratched his temple. The movement loosened the messy bow over his left ears. If Kouyou saw this, the cadet was not going to make it to the next day. Chuuya raised a hand, intending to point it out and stopped mid-motion at the sound of chair scraping back. The cadet had became still as a rock, he seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. His gaze, however, focused solely on the hand that Chuuya raised; the gaze of a cornered, starved lion, scared but ready to kill for his freedom. Chuuya knew that gaze well. He once wore it like a sheathing, long time ago, before he became a navy, before he met him . He should know how to deal with one directed at him.
Slowly, so as not to spook the frightened animal in the cadet, he removed his cap. The sudden disappearance of a familiar weight weirded him, more so than the cool air running through his locks. He stood up, movements stilted like a staticky videos. The cadet’s eyes tracked his every move. Chuuya tapped the place above his right ears. The cadet frowned, mirroring his movement carefully. One heartbeat, two heartbeat, three heartbeat later, the panic drained away from the cadet’s eyes. He opened his mouth in a surprised o . Chuuya nodded and dropped his hand.
“Your bow is loosened.”
“Oh, yes. I, ah, uhm… I’ll retie it. Thank you for pointing it out, sir!”
The cadet fumbled with the tally’s ends and made a tangled knot that did not resembled a neat bow at all. Chuuya stared, which only made the cadet fluster even more. He repeatedly missed a crucial step in making the bow neat. After the fourth time the bow came out a disastrous tangle, Chuuya decided he need to intervene.
“Sit down, cadet. I’ll help you this one time.” Without waiting for the cadet’s responses, he strode over and pushed the cadet back down in his seat. The cadet was thin enough he could feel skin stretching over his shoulder bones. Chuuya bit back a growl and instead taking the silken tally’s ends between his fingers. “Tell me your name and the topic of the fifth book, cadet.”
“Nakajima Atsushi, sir! And,” here he hesitated, “the fifth book is about pirates, sir!”
Chuuya paused, before wrapping the tally once around Atsushi’s head — the thing was so damn long. “How many pirates are named and sketched in the book, Cadet Nakajima?”
“619, sir!”
“How many pirates are listed as detained, cadet?”
Here Atsushi hesitated. He started sliding down into a slouch but Chuuya slapped his back. “Two, s-sir!”
Chuuya pretended he didn’t hear the whispered Ow and, while his hands moved in a familiar pattern to tie a perfect bow, his mind focused on the book. It seemed fishy, that out of over 600 pirates, the navy only had two detained. Chuuya had assisted in detaining over 190 known pirates, in Port Navy’s region of power alone. So that must mean, these 600 pirates were new and had never been actively buccaneering that the Navy had never heard of. Chuuya lifted his lips in a sneer. The author of this book had too much information for his liking.
“Is there a page about the one-eyed menace?”
“Menace...? Oh you mean the pirate One-Eye the Wicked?”
Chuuya twitched. Wicked, his ass. “Do not refer to that pirate with that title. He is only a fly ready to be squashed under my shoe. Navy fear no one. And neither should you, Atsushi. Never refer to pirates with the title they give themselves. Are we clear?
“Yes, Sir!” The cadet snapped his heels together in a sharp clack. “There is only half a page about One-Eye the Wi-I mean Menace, sir.”
“No pictures? Nothing?”
“Just a name, and a kill count, sir.”
Chuuya hummed to himself. That was not a surprise. “A word of advice, Atsushi. If you ever encounter him at sea, fall back and run as far as you can. No matter how strongly you think you can win in a battle against the Menace, you can’t. I am his only match, and no one else. Got it?”
“Clear, sir! M-may I ask why he is so dangerous?”
“You are assigned to my division, cadet, whose top mission is to capture the Menace. You’ll know soon.”
Chuuya left the line of conversation at that. Under his fingers, the bow came together nicely, just as Kouyou had taught him. Chuuya pulled the loose ends to tighten it before draping the ends over Atsushi’s shoulders like decorative streamers. He personally preferred snipping off the redundant length but something told him to keep them long for Atsushi.
“All set.”
He clapped Atsushi’s shoulders hard and strode back to his seat. The admiration in Atsushi’s bright eyes was more than a spoken thank you and it befuddled him. It was only a bow, nothing special, but he left the cadet a few moments to fuss over the bow above his left ear. Chuuya removed the glove off his right hand and rested his elbow on the table. Once Atsushi had full attention back on him, he made a claw with his fingers. The back of his hand burned with familiar heat as curves and lines carved themselves into existence. When he was certain Atsushi had a good look of his character, he relaxed his fingers and slid the glove back on. If Atsushi was to be under his command, then mutual trust between commodore and subordinate was essential.
“That was,” Atsushi fumbled with his own fingerless glove, “Gravity, sir?”
“Yes, I have one of the rare elements.”
“So do I, sir.” Atsushi raised the back of his hand. Dark coils started appearing before arranging themselves in a neat line.
“Beast, huh?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow, this was the first time he saw an animal-based character. He wondered how many rare Charactereds had the Navy recruited up till now. “Any ideas what that entails?”
“Not yet, sir.” Atsushi pinked faintly, averting his gaze. “I can heal any open wounds in seconds but that’s all I know, sir.”
“ Every? ” Chuuya’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “And those are?”
The cadet couldn’t hide his hand away fast enough; Chuuya had already memorized the intricate map of white scars on the back of the his hand, criss crossing over each other. For such a small area of skin, that was a hella large number of scars. Circular scars dotted every knuckles. Chuya bet his cap that those were cigarette burns, held onto the patch of skin long enough to eat through nerves, if the deliberate movement of Atsushi when stretching his fingers was anything to go by. Looks like he needs to have a look at the cadet file soon.
“Tra— training, sir.” Atsushi shoved his hands underneath his ass, looking at everything but Chuuya.
That was obviously a lie. Chuuya frowned. He wanted to press the issue but Atsushi didn’t seem like he wanted to. He could pull a rank card and make Atsushi talk. But that wasn’t his style, wasn’t anyone’s style here in the Navy when it came to dealing with their subordinates.
So with a huff, Chuuya pushed himself up from the chair, swiping the fifth volume from the table and marched to the door.
“Welcome to Port Navy, Cadet Nakajima.”
He tipped his cap at Atsushi. The sheer happiness that sparkled around the boy made his day.
Night sky at sea never failed to amaze him; the inky canopy of endless abyss. It blazed with stars. In the serenade of the black, the stars are a choir; they were lights that sang in infinite patterns. Sometimes eyes need music, and the darker the night the sweeter the song.
Chuuya took a drag, feeling a warm blanket wrapped around his lungs, and exhaled. Sea breeze blasted the smoke away as soon as it escaped his mouth. He stared at the cigarette between his fingers. It was almost short enough to burn him. With a sigh, he crushed it underneath his heel.
A bourbon sat at his elbow, gleaming pale yellow under silver moonlight. He picked up the glass, and in spontaneous childishness, removed its mass with his Character. The glass started floating, tipping sparkling pearls of bourbon into the night wind. Chuuya was always fascinated by his Character, the one that was under his control, that came at his beck and call. The other one—
Pain blossomed around his knuckles, sharp enough to derail his mind from diving into the memory hole. It had been years , it was high time he forgot him . Chuuya unclenched his fist and winced The railing bent under his character-enhanced punch. Old Seal Hirotsu was going to be annoyed with him. It was, after all, the Black Fulmar’s training building, which happened to have the best view of the sky and sea at night.
(Really, Old Hirotsu should have known better when he recommended this rooftop to Chuuya. Mini-craters and broken floor was a common thing with him around.)
A gust of wind zipped by, blowing his hair into his mouth and the glass of bourbon further from his reach. Yanking hair out of his mouth with one hand, Chuuya reached the glass with the other. Before he touched it, a cold hand clasped around his neck. The feeling of power being removed from his Character was almost familiar, a sudden sense of loss and dizziness.
A familiar feeling that had Chuuya reacted in a familiar pattern. He pivoted on his heel and swung his leg around. His leg connected with empty air but Chuuya wasn’t done. He aimed a punch at the spleen, (deflected with the back of the palm), flipped up to deliver a kick at the neck (blocked with lanky arm) and swung out his knife for the kill.
The cold of a nuzzle grazing at his temple was the only thing stopping him from drawing more blood. Chuuya stood still, chest heaving to draw air into his lungs.
“You wasted my drink, Mackerel.”
The beautiful ichor of alcohol lay spilled on the cracked floor. Grains of broken glass twinkled like stardust. He grieved for the promised peaceful night. He could have had his smoke, his view, his drink in peace and quiet. But no, someone had to destroy it.
“Wheh.” Dazai Osamu stuck his tongue out. Chuuya wanted to punch him. “Chibi’s taste in spirit is horrible as always.”
As someone who had a basement full of expensive wine and alcohol, Chuuya took the insult personally.
“Shitty trash!”
“Hat rack.”
“Extra stuff that comes with the bandage!”
“Neh, Chuuya, how many more embarrassing hats have you collected now? Last I counted 78 but I burned 24 of them.”
“You shit, that was you! ?” The blackened carcasses of his favorite hats still haunted him. “I’ll tell Ane-san you shredded her favorite dress to make bandages for your eyes when we were fifteen.”
Dazai stopped grinning. Chuuya started smiling.
“Actually can you not do that?” Dazai pulled a face. “Ane-san is the scariest when she is angry.”
“Can’t have Ane-san kill you when I am the one to do that.”
Chuuya crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at Dazai from under the brim of his cap. The height difference irked him still but he was learning to get used to it.
Dazai hummed a little cheerful tune that clearly said he didn’t believe Chuuya at all. Clicking his tongue, Chuuya turned away. He studied the man from the corner of his eyes. Dazai looked no different since the last time Chuuya saw him; stick-like limbs, bandages covering every part of exposed skin, bar his face and hands. The dark eye-patch was a new addition. His brown hair had gotten longer, tied down in a low tail. Chuuya wanted to make a jab at that copycat hairstyle but he knew Dazai probably had a dozen of comebacks for that so he refrained. He smoothed the few stray strands from his tail and flicked it over his shoulders. Only one could wear low ponytail better.
The wind suddenly picked up, sending briny smell up his nostrils. His coat fluttered behind him, held in place with his Character, whose power had come back timely.
“Ah. Your bow is loose,” Dazai said, “Here, I can do it.”
The change was minute, a stop in the air but Chuuya felt it all the same. He jammed the knife through the hand that was reaching for his tally and shot upwards, away from arm reach of the impostor.
“You’re not Dazai,” he grabbed a handful of bullets from his pocket. “Go back to where you come from, Demon Fyodor.”
Da— no, not Dazai anymore, it was the demon Fyodor he was looking at — smiled faintly, like he knew all secrets to the world and life. He eyed the hole on his palm with awe, despite the blood rivulets coursing down his elbow. This high up, Chuuya couldn’t read the Character snaking on the back of the hand but he knew with his every being, the Human Character of Dazai was written over with the Demon Character of Fyodor.
The bullets orbited around him lazily. Chuuya wanted to rain them all down on the demon but it would be futile. The demon just would not die, like every time Chuuya had tried to kill it. He shot a single bullet at the space above its ear when the demon forgot his existence.
“Nakahara Chuuya,” The demon purred, letting the hand hang limply by his side. “Have you found a way to kill me yet?”
“No, but I will.”
“Oh? Fascinating. Dazai is looking for a way to kill both of us, you know. Surely you want to have Dazai dead?”
“More than anything.” Chuuya huffed a breath. “But I want to kill him myself. That means you have to die first, Demon.”
“Ehh, is that so?” The demon arched an eyebrow, “How boring. Humans are boring, aren’t they, *God*?”
Chuuya snarled and swung his arm. The bullets hailed down on Fyodor. Once the dust cleared, Fyodor stood in the middle of the carnage, unharmed and smiling still.
“It is annoying to be dependent on a Human. Right, God?”
“Don’t refer to me with that Character, you fucking —!”
“Well it has been a nice chat, Nakahara Chuuya but I want to sleep now. Good night.”
This time the switch was audible, in the breathy sigh Dazai released as he tipped his head to the sky.
“I despise pain, Chuuya.” He raised the bloody hand.
“I give no fucks about what you dislike.” Chuuya shrugged and floated down. He kicked a shell on the ground. It hit Dazai’s shin squarely.
“Well, looks like time for me to go.” Dazai waved cheerily.
“What the fuck makes you think I will let you go, Bandage Waster?”
At that moment, he heard his name being called in a familiar voice.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Chuuya whispered to himself, torn between the need to barricade Atsushi from climbing to the rooftop and the urge to pummel Dazai to the ground for pulling his subordinate into the mess between them.
“There you have it, Chibi Slug. Could you protect the rare Character from me while trying to capture me?
Chuuya bit down his lips. The taste of blood did nothing to clear his head. Atsushi was coming closer now, footsteps thumping on the stairs as he frantically searched for his Commodore due to whatever warning Dazai gave him.
“Get out of my face, Fishface.” He intended to walk away, but something Dazai said about Atsushi stuck with him. “How do you know Nakajima Atsushi is a rare Character?”
Dazai brought a finger to his lips. “Now, now, Hat Shop, too much information isn’t good for your sheep-dog brain.”
“ Why you —“
“To answer your question, I merely direct Atsushi here to the Navy. It looks like it will do him well.”
Chuuya raised an eyebrow, that was a more honest answer from Dazai than he had expected.
“And the fifth volume? That was your doing as well, right?” And as Dazai hummed in agreement, Chuuya asked the final, most important question he had. “619 new pirates. 0-6-1-9. June 19th. You are fucking kidding me.”
“Appreciate me, Chuuya~~. I’m the greatest gift in your life.”
“Go find a hole some where and die.”
Chuuya pivoted on his heels and marched towards the door, where Atsuhi was making a ruckus trying to force open in his haste. He didn’t need to look back to know Dazai had vanished like smoke in the wind.
“Commodore Nakahara!” Atsushi tumbled out screaming. His chest was heaving heavily as he looked around the empty rooftop for something. “I—I heard — noises, and you — screaming.”
“Calm down, cadet. I’m fine.” Chuuya patted Atsushi’s shoulder. “You were just dreaming.”
“A-a dream, sir?” Atsushi asked, squinting at him with bleary eyes. He was still in his night clothes too. “But I—“
“A dream, Cadet Nakajima.” Chuuya affirmed. “Now if you excuse me, I need to catch my sleep too.”
He brushed past the still-standing boy and jogged down the stairs. Only when he was at the end of the first flight that he noticed Atsushi had not followed him. He stood at the doorway, gaze locked at the moon, still as a statue. Chuuya crawled back up, yawning. Now that he was less wired, sleep sounded good.
“Cadet?” No answer. “Atsushi?”
He got no warning when the Character was activated. One moment Atsushi stood there, all human, the next, a white tiger, large as an elephant, pounced on him with the intend to kill.
“Ah, shit.”
Chuuya hated being in the navy sometimes. And he hadn’t even had a drink yet.