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Unlike most of his classmates, he prefers to spend his summers in the hills and mountains behind his house, instead of the crowded beaches or the noisy arcades. He fends off their invitations with casual rebuffs, citing wanting to stay closer to his home, wanting to hunt beetles and fireflies, whatever excuse he can think of at the moment.
The real reason is…
“I think you’ve achieved the impossible,” comes the snippy voice from the kitsune indolently sprawled underneath the tree’s shade, two fluffy tails swishing along with the balmy breeze, “and have gone ahead to become more of a chibikko than before. Aren’t you quite pitiful?”
Chuuya scoffs as each stomp of his feet stomps out the tiny flutter of warmth in his gut, something that sparks into existence whenever he meets up with the bastard. He blames allergy towards kitsune magic, even if Dazai insists there’s no such thing.
“I thought your kind is supposed to be smart? Obviously, humans can’t shrink!”
“But you aren’t human,” Dazai says with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You’re a sheepdog. A slug. A microorganism.”
“That makes no sense!”
“Only because your hats have eaten your tiny brain.”
“Leave my hats alone,” Chuuya shakes his fists towards the other’s face to express the severity of his threat. Fists that are out of the usual gloves that he favors whenever he’s anywhere else aside from meeting with the fox. “Else, I’m not going to bring you chips anymore!”
Dazai’s fox-ears droop, pressing flat against the sides of his head, the dark coloring making his ears blend with his hair. “You’d bully me by limiting my salt intake? You’re such a cruel chibikko, don’t you know that being generous makes one grow taller?”
“Eh, really?”
“Of course, it’s a joke.”
“You—!!!”
It’s much harder to punch Dazai when they’re seated side-by-side, with one of Dazai’s tails already wrapped around his waist as though to ensure that he can’t jump off. The other tail sneaks off to grab the bag that Chuuya’s brought with him, filled to bursting with snacks, most of them seafood flavored to match the fox’s preferences.
Still, Chuuya doesn’t immediately give up in trying to at least box the other’s ears for his impertinence. He squirms against the fluffy grip around his torso, but his valiant struggles only end up with him tickled pink, because Dazai definitely doesn’t play fair. Having known the other for so long, he’s of the opinion that it’s less because of kitsune being known as creatures of cunning and more because Dazai is just so Dazai.
“Oh, you got the new crab flavor!” Dazai exclaims as soon as he unearths all of the food packets, spreading them out like a sumptuous buffet in front of them. “You can be a nice chibikko sometimes, hmm?”
He bursts that smug bubble by claiming, “I didn’t get it for you.” To preempt the disbelieving frown from making an appearance, Chuuya digs his elbow against Dazai’s stomach so he can bowl the other over and steal said crab-flavored junk food from the other’s sticky fingers. “I’m the one who bought them, why would you assume they’re for you?!”
“Because you brought them to me?” Dazai asks with the air of someone who’s seriously questioning the existence of intelligent life form in the immediate perimeter.
“I brought them here so I can eat them in front of you and make you jealous!”
Dazai’s ears droop, before perking up immediately after. “I would never feel jealous over a chibikko who can’t even reach me.”
Chuuya digs his elbow against the squishy flesh again, as though to remind the other to mind his words lest he become littered with bruises. Oh, who is he kidding, if Dazai ends up bruised again—his skin is too pale and weak, his veins mottling too easily—he’s just going to con him into rubbing lotion all over his body again. There’s just no winning against the other.
Just for that uncalled-for jibe regarding his height, he quickly tears open the foil packaging of the crab-flavored crackers, and stuffs a handful into his mouth. It goes against all of the etiquette that his parents have taught him, but it’s not like he acts like this with anyone else. Someone like shitty Dazai does not deserve him at his usual polite, well-behaved standards.
“Ehh, that’s how you want to play it,” Dazai comments flatly, before lunging sideways towards him.
Chuuya flails his left hand away so that the food packet can’t be stolen from his grasp, but it seems that it isn’t Dazai’s target to begin with. Dazai takes his right hand instead, fingertips still dusted with the red-tinged flavoring and tiny, broken pieces of the crab crackers.
“Oi, don’t, you—!” Before he can even fully unscramble his words to form some semblance of a proper warning, Dazai’s already dragging his fingertips inside his mouth, tongue teasing the pads of his skin, shamelessly licking off the remaining flavoring from his hand.
The sensation zings up his spine, electrifying him into place, unable to do much aside from let out wordless gasps as Dazai practically devours his hand. His entire body burns, and he’s not quite sure he can blame it completely on the muggy summer heat; the skin under his collar is sticky with sweat, which is loads better compared to his right hand that’s now glistening with Dazai’s spit as he moves on to lick down his wrist.
Just how messy of an eater do you take me for?, Chuuya wants to ask, but words are trapped inside his ribs, like wild butterflies, like fireflies over the fields.
Dazai bites the skin over the jut of his wristbone, causing him to shudder. He’s hypnotized, fallen under some allure, surely, because he can’t pull his gaze away from the way that Dazai’s eyes burn as they lock gazes. His body curves forward, magnetized, and he’s already caught—
“—got it,” Dazai whispers triumphantly, and Chuuya blinks in confusion for a moment, before realizing that there’s a swishing tail in front of him, with the crab crackers packet hanging from it. Smugly, annoyingly, and definitely not heart-stoppingly, Dazai crows, “Thanks for the meal, chibikko~”, before jumping away with his prize.
It takes him embarrassingly long to recover, but manage it, he does.
“You fucker, come back here! How dare you slobber all over my hand like some dog?!”
“Eh, how come you know how a dog slobbers? Are you finally admitting to being a sheepdog?”
“It’s called common sense, you infuriating fox! Come back here so I can punch you!”
“No can do~” Dazai singsongs as he flits away, initiating yet another, all-too-familiar round of hide-and-seek between them.
For a split-second, Chuuya is overwhelmed by the realization that this is something that they’ve done for a long time. He shakes his head to ignore that sentimental thought, because he’s not going to get tricked to letting Dazai go without kicking him a bit, damn it!
And so, like always, their summers are peaceful.
— — —
— — — — —
— — —
Sometimes, he thinks that against all odds, Chuuya actually remembers. It’s completely illogical, of course, because it’s an impossibility that is decided by the heavens itself.
Nakahara Chuuya is the vessel of Arahabaki, reborn every cycle without being any wiser to the fact that he’s harboring the most destructive and bloodthirsty god in existence inside him.
Every reincarnation always has a possibility of loosening the seal that keeps Arahabaki asleep, and so it is imperative that there’s someone who keeps a close eye on Chuuya.
Way back then, he’s gladly volunteered for the job. It’s nothing as noble as altruism; it’s nothing as opportunistic as wanting to raise the status of kitsune in the eyes of other supernatural creatures, of the gods.
He’s just bored enough for it, that’s all.
It helps that if the seal does weaken and Arahabaki does wake from its sleep, even just slightly, massive energy is required to re-seal it—massive energy that a kitsune’s tail possesses. It’s perfect for him, really. He’s bored enough with his immortality, something that he can’t get rid of as long as he possesses his full nine tails. But if he becomes Chuuya’s guardian—executor, really—then there’s always the chance that he has to use up his tails, always the chance that he ends up dying eventually.
…It started with him merely passing off his boredom.
But somehow, over the long passage of time, he…
Dazai shakes his head to get rid of the reverie, and so he can focus on the current situation.
There’s actually no logical reason as to why he’s made his way here, to Chuuya’s apartment in the middle of the city. A cramped city apartment that he shares with boisterous roommates, because he’s in college now.
There’s no logical reason, but he’s here nevertheless.
Chuuya’s blue eyes tend to become really wide whenever he’s distressed. Chuuya’s face is quite lovely at all angles, but there’s something to be said from viewing it when his head is pillowed in his lap.
“This is just a flesh wound,” Dazai jokes, as he raises a hand so he can pinch Chuuya’s frown into a smile. “But if you really want to pamper me, I want to drink all the wine you’ve stashed here.”
“You’re bleeding,” Chuuya mumbles, voice shaking as he gingerly touches his right brow, where the edge of the wound is. It’s barely missed his eyeball, but the wound on his eyelid means that he has to keep his right eye closed for some time. A light injury, all things considered. “You’re going to become even uglier because you’ll have to bandage your eye.”
It started because he was basically wasting away due to boredom.
Now though—
“I understand.” Dazai catches Chuuya’s trembling hand so he can press a kiss at the jut of his right wristbone. “You think I’m so handsome that the idea of covering a part of my face causes you distress, I get it, I really do.”
As planned, that teases a huff of laughter from Chuuya. “You bastard, just for that, I’m gonna bandage your mouth as well.”
“Wow, is that what you’re learning in college? You’ve become kinky, huh?”
“Ki—!!!” Chuuya flushes bright red, very adorably and very much the opposite of the destructive impulses sleeping inside him. “S-S-Shut up! Don’t talk, don’t even move, urgh! I’m going to get the first aid kit! Stay put, damn it!”
He really is so adorable, that Dazai doesn’t have the heart to tell him that there’s no way he’s going to die from a wound of this level. Number of remaining tails aside, as long as Dazai’s hoshi no tama is intact, he shall always survive, no matter the pain, no matter the injury.
Still, it feels nice to be fussed over, so Dazai simply rolls all over Chuuya’s bed, breathing in the chibikko’s scent. In the past lifetimes, he’s never really ended up fully shape-shifting to a human form. It would be quite interesting to live with Chuuya in this cramped apartment though. The bed is for a single person, but Chuuya’s small enough that both of them can fit comfortably…
It started because he was bored.
Now though, he’s growing rather attached to the chibikko.
Is it because he’s now down to two tails, that he’s starting to want to spend more time with the hoshi no tama that he’s whimsically extracted out of his body and planted in Chuuya’s wrist?
Or is it because he’s spent so much time in the humans’ realm that he’s starting to feel very human emotions…?
Such musings are chased away by Chuuya’s reappearance, because he’d really rather focus on the soothing motions of Chuuya’s fingertips against his skin.
— — —
— — — — —
— — —
Unlike most of his coursemates, he prefers to spend his free time inside the 1-bedroom apartment that he shares with a particularly nasty and clingy bastard of a roommate, instead of the clubs with student-discount beers or the malls teeming with fellow students who can only indulge in window-shopping. He fends off their invitations with casual rebuffs, not even bothering with excuses because they’d either nod in understanding before he even says anything—or, more often, there’s Dazai lurking nearby anyway, who’d pull him away from whatever conversation he’s in, because he’s a rude asshole.
“I’m a very powerful kitsune, you know,” Dazai always says whenever Chuuya whacks him for his rudeness. “Human pleasantries have no use to me!”
Chuuya rolls his eyes in response, like always. And then he reaches up and pinches the other’s human ears. “You’re cosplaying as a human right now, so you should follow proper manners, oi.”
Ever since that night when Dazai came to his old apartment, blood on his face from a skirmish with some of the kitsune’s many enemies… well, not exactly since that very night. Chuuya waited until the morning before he told his housemates that he wants to move out, so he can move into his own place with just him and Dazai. He didn’t want to chance Dazai getting into more trouble away from him—
—especially since he only has two tails now.
And because he’s a suicidal asshole, he’s walking around with only two tails remaining and without his hoshi-no-tama. A mixture of arrogance and suicidal tendencies, surely.
He doesn’t ask Dazai just why did he implant his most important treasure, his hoshi-no-tama, his very soul, inside the person he’s supposed to be simply watching over, inside the person he’s supposed to do his utmost best to destroy should Arahabaki fully erode the seal.
He doesn’t ask, because he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t get a straight answer from someone who enjoys speaking in riddles and complications.
He doesn’t ask, because he thinks he knows the answer anyway.
It’s in the way that they find it too easy to tangle their limbs together in a cramped bed. It’s in the way that they fall into a comfortable routine as they deal with utterly mundane things such as cooking breakfast and doing the laundry. It’s in the way that they can guess whatever the other wants to buy during their grocery shopping.
It’s in the way that Dazai complains of boredom but never seems to mind waiting for his classes to finish so they can grab lunch together. It’s in the way that he doesn’t mind eating cup noodles for a month and queuing in the cold so that they can pool their savings to buy the games that strike Dazai’s fancy. It’s in the way that Dazai wordlessly supplies him with coffee and biscuits whenever he’s deep in his cramming. It’s in the way that he hides his hands inside gloves and he only uses kicks whenever he’s hunting down those creatures that think that a two-tailed Dazai is easy prey.
It’s all in the ways that matter most.
“Ne, Chuuya, what are you going to cook for dinner? I’m so hungry already…”
“Ha? Isn’t it your turn today?!” Chuuya twitches as he recalls the past few days too. “You’ve skived off dinner duty yesterday too, you lazy ass!”
“Ehh,” Dazai drags the syllable and whines like the brat he really is. He drapes his arms over his shoulders, so that his annoyingly long legs end up getting dragged against the floor when Chuuya ignores the added weight and continues his march towards their kitchen. “But I don’t feel like cooking…”
He uncharitably points out: “You never feel like doing anything aside from being a nuisance.”
“Oh, that’s true.”
“At least deny it a little, oi.”
“Nah, I’m not a tsundere like you.”
“Tsun—I’m not a tsundere!”
“Spoken like a true tsundere,” Dazai teases, his laughter muffled against his neck. “Now, don’t bother denying it, go and cook dinner for me already!”
“How dare you boss me around, you lazy fuck.”
Another huff of laughter against his skin. “If you don’t feed me soon, I’m gonna find my own food, okay?”
“Go ahead then?”
He really should have known. Still, he yelps when Dazai suddenly lifts his right hand—ungloved inside their apartment since it’s just the two of them anyway—and bites his wrist.
“Stop eating me,” Chuuya says quietly—and there must be something in the way that he says it today, because instead of making some quip about how Chuuya’s too small to be nutritious or something similarly grating, Dazai shifts from kissing his hand to kissing him directly on the mouth.
His entire body burns like it’s been set on fire—the burn from being in close contact with anything, really, because the god of destruction inside him doesn’t discriminate in its wants to destroy everything; the burn from the kiss that’s many lifetimes in the making.
When Dazai pulls back, there’s a small smile on his face, the most genuine expression he’s ever seen on the other.
“You should go and cook, if I eat you, I won’t get any nutrition given how pitifully small you are…”
Chuuya kicks his shin in response, before he starts preparing for dinner.
And so, like always, their days continue being peaceful.