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“I wonder what I’ll end up being…”
Normally, Chuuya wouldn’t be this nervous, and he wouldn’t actually willingly reveal his nervousness in front of the biggest bastard he has the misfortune of knowing. However, the importance of the occasion overrides his usual misgivings about dealing with the other without insults peppered every five seconds.
“Isn’t it obvious? You’d become a dog demon for sure.” Beside him on the couch, Dazai yawns wide. “That, or a slug demon.” He’s unperturbed about the looks he’s getting from everyone else in the waiting room. He’s the only human here.
Even though humans, demons and angels have signed a three-way peace treaty several hundred years ago, it still is strange to find the races willingly associating with each other. At least, rarely to the point that they’d appear inside the demon realm’s ward office, a place that’s teeming with demons and more demons.
“I wonder how badass I’d be…” Chuuya squeezes the other’s forearm, his gloves hiding his sharper nails but still ultimately unable to lessen the pink marks on the human’s thinner skin. “A dog demon would be cute though…”
They’re inside the ward office where he’s supposed to activate his magic. Demons don’t fully differentiate to their magic specialties until they turn twenty. For the past two decades, he’s been fantasizing on what kind of badass, cool, powerful demon he’d turn out to be. He has a wish list several books’ long, the first of which being a demon that can control gravity.
“Nobody can escape gravity,” he’d say to his opponents, before kicking their ass. He’s practiced this line on Dazai a million times, but this human has shitty tastes, so he’s never cowed by it. Chuuya would love to get that power for real and then use it on others instead of this spoilsport asshole.
Dazai always whines about hating pain, but he doesn’t seem affected by the fact that he’s being used as a stress ball. In fact, Chuuya could sense smugness radiating from him—well, that’s his usual state, so it really isn’t anything new. He’s the type who would radiate the smug bastard aura even when Chuuya’s kicking him on the ground and practicing his badass lines on him.
“Mm, or you could be a patron demon of shortness.”
He gasps, thoroughly offended. He shows his offense by thwacking the other’s thigh. “You beanpole bastard, take that back!”
“It would make sense, right? Since you’re as tiny as a button.” With these words, Dazai uses his free hand to demonstrate just how small he thinks he is.
He snarls, all set to beat the other up, regardless of their location. Before he could wring the other’s neck for being such an annoyance, he hears his queue number being called. He deflates, perks up, deflates once again. The nervousness that’s been chased away by the need to scold this human has returned.
What if he ends up with a very uncool power? What if he ends up with a power that isn’t as great as parents’ and siblings’? What if he ends up with a power that would need him to recite an embarrassing chant or do an even more embarrassing pose? Worse, what if it doesn’t make him taller than this childhood enemy of his?
So much worse, what if he needs to travel far away to hone his new magic? He still has several ongoing bets with this shitty human, and if he’s not around, who knows how much the other would slack off and make trouble for everyone?
He frets over all these matters, as his queue number is called for the second and third time.
There’s never a time to run away. He needs to face this head-on, and—
—a flick to his forehead. “Such a silly chibikko you are, whatever you end up being, you’ll still be shortest, silliest, stupidest, sluggiest chibikko in my eyes.”
“What the fuck do you mean sluggiest, oi!”
Dazai drags him by the wrist towards the inner room where he’s supposed to resonate with a stone to activate his magic.
As part of that peace treaty, demons and angels can only start using their magic once they’re of-age, in order to prevent them accidentally eviscerating magic-less humans while they’re toddlers without much control to speak of. He looks at the stone floating in front of him, tense as he takes deep breaths in order to let it read his magic core better.
A fervent chant loops inside his mind: “make me into a badass demon that can bring that bastard Dazai to his knees and make him regret giving me all these stupid nicknames, damn it.”
A low ding.
It’s over.
He stands there in a daze. Dazai drags him out by the wrist once more, so they could return to the waiting room and await the slip that says just what kind of magic he possesses.
…Perhaps some other day, he’d think about why he’s turned down his parents’ and his siblings’ offer to accompany him to do this. Or why he’s actually applied for leave for both of them, even going so far as to dealing with Dazai’s professors even though they’re from different courses.
Right now, he’s close to gnawing all of his fingernails as he waits for the result. Dazai sighs and slips his wallet out of his pockets, going to the nearest vending machine to buy both of them drinks. A pair of hot cocoa. It takes all of his focus so that he doesn’t end up spilling the cup’s contents all over his lap.
His queue number is called again.
Nervousness and excitement make his hands shake so badly that he couldn’t open the envelope with his information.
“Such a stupid slug you are, what’s the point of being this nervous? Only silly kids get this jumpy over such a small and simple thing.” Despite these words, Dazai oh-so-helpfully takes the sealed envelope from him so he could open it. The waiting room is full of demons who are staring at them with a lot of intrigue.
…Perhaps some other day, he’d think long and hard as to why he’s fine with trusting his sworn enemy, this squishy human, with this important secret. After all, even though demons awaken their magic at twenty, it doesn’t mean that they’re automatic experts at using it. They’re still considered fledglings, so most would rather hide the truth about their magic until they’ve trained it extensively.
One hand on his own cup of hot cocoa and another on the envelope, Dazai opens it with a flourish, like he expects an applause for simply existing. “Fufufu, let’s see, let’s see, it says here that Chuuya’s magic is that of an in—”
Dazai freezes, then his hand shakes so hard that the entirety of his drink is spilled on the slip of paper.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“What the hell!” His nervousness disappears as quickly as the intelligibility of the words on that paper slip. Chuuya picks up the soggy paper full of unreadable words. “Damn it, shitty Dazai, what the fuck?!”
“I got nervous,” Dazai deadpans with a completely straight face with no hint of nervousness whatsoever. “After all, it said that your magic is that of an inu’s.” He shudders a bit. “I know that I’m a genius, but it really is frightening as to how I was able to accurately guess it, huh?”
“An inu…?” Chuuya blinks at the soggy paper, then at Dazai who’s staring at him so deeply that he feels strange in staring back to see if he’s lying to him. “I’m actually a dog demon…?”
He’s totally, completely not ecstatic that this means he could charm a hundred dogs and take care of them so well! He’s not planning on testing it out as soon as they step out of this place! He’s not extremely happy that this means he doesn’t have to leave and go someplace far away so he can practice his skills!
“Yes, a dog demon.” Dazai’s face is like stone. “That’s why, in order to practice your magic you should talk to dogs and dogs only. And not to anyone else. Certainly not to weak-willed humans and not to your stupid fan club at the university.”
Ah, come to think of it, this fucker tries so hard to hide it, but isn’t he actually afraid of dogs?
Chuuya nods, but inside, he’s already making plans to stick to Dazai a lot. If he’s a dog demon and can attract a lot of dogs, then being beside Dazai would make this shithead grow hives from being surrounded by dogs! It’s going to be the best!
-
Ah, it really is the best!
One of the things about magic is that it’s a never-ending cycle. He’ll end up using magic to charm and befriend dogs, and then his magic is replenished by the adorable presence of said dogs.
It truly is the best. He may not have managed to awaken terrifying gravity powers, but it’s so much better like this. At least, he doesn’t have to worry about being weak or having his magic supply depleted.
Just imagine—what if he ended up as one of those lust demons? If he ended up as an incubus? Not only does he need to initiate p-p-p-physical contact, he’d have to harvest others’ lust! That would be extremely mortifying! And he’d need to do it multiple times to multiple people! After all, no matter how good-looking he is, it’s probably impossible to find someone who’d have an endless supply of lust for him, right…?
He shakes his head, willing that horrible mental image away. Being a dog demon really is so much better!
“Chuuya, can you stop shaking your head and messing your hair?” A pinched, constipated look on the shitty mackerel human’s face. “You look even… stupider with messy hair.”
Lately, Dazai looks like he’s afflicted with a permanent flu. Hoarse voice, nose stuffed with tissues, watery eyes and feverish cheeks. He looks so sick that he’s become prone to fainting and collapsing against him.
There are several instances where he’s so weak that he walks oddly, like a hunched-over turtle slowly trudging forward on shaky legs. During those times, he’d be so huffy and unwilling to accept Chuuya’s help to carry him. Hmph, see if he ever helps him again! So what if he’s too tall and would probably end up dragging his feet on the ground if he piggybacks him—!!!
Because he lives to be contrary to Dazai’s desires, he shakes his head harder, deliberately swishing the ends of his longer hair against the other’s shoulder. Earlier today, he allowed the three dogs that he adopted to lick his hair, so by doing this, he could also disgust Dazai further by infesting him with the leftover dog drool.
Dazai lets out a wheeze that sounds as if he’s a dying seal beached on a desert. “I’m allergic to dog,” he complains, but he’s too much of a weakass to actually move away from him.
Ha! It’s really the best!
-
Things are going extremely well.
So well, that as soon as news of his nine dogs have spread on campus, a bunch of his classmates insist on visiting his house during summer break so they could pet said dogs too. His power must have evolved greatly, if his dogs could attract people this easily already!
“Aren’t I the best?” He can’t help but boast to the mackerel who’s all flopped over against him as they sit cross-legged on the porch. His classmates are spread out on the lawn, playing chase with his nine dogs. He feels energized just looking at them, being a dog demon really is too cost-effective.
Dazai looks feverish again. His eyes are glazed as they stare at him. “No? You’re an idiot who’s already this old and still can’t eat a watermelon properly.”
“I’ll just wash this off later, urgh.” What a spoilsport this fish is. So what if some watermelon juice spills on his hands? He can easily wash this off! Plus, he’s wearing shorts and a tank top to combat the summer heat, so it’s not like it’s going to stain his clothes even if it drips down. Worst case scenario is that it falls to his knees and that’s also easy to take care of.
“Plus, you’re even stupid enough to allow others to siphon energy from your dogs.”
“…Ha?”
“If you let others touch and be around your dogs, then you’ll get less magic back. Idiot. Stupid. Shorty.”
“Oi, that ‘short’ part is unnecessary!” But, is it really true…? Dazai’s an annoying person, but he’s also a genius. Plus, he hates him, so there’s no point in lying about something that could lead him to getting more magic, right?
It’s hard to appear haughty when one is looking sickly, but the bastard manages to do it. “It’s because you’re too short that your even your brain doesn’t have room to grow.”
“Shut up, you’re so irritating!” In retaliation for having to listen to his disparagement towards his intellect, he spits watermelon seeds towards the other’s face and punches him using sticky fingers.
With the way that they’re wrestling on the porch, one would think that they’re angry toddlers rather than a pair in their twenties. Still, to call this ‘wrestling’ isn’t really fair. The mackerel is many things, but being stronger than him is impossible. So, it’s easy work to pin the other with his back on the floor.
Dazai looks even sicklier. He lets out a pitiful moan that shouldn’t work at getting him worried, but he’s scrambling to lean closer and check if the other ended up with a concussion anyway.
“Such a stupid chibikko,” is the other’s whiny complaint. “Making me feel so sticky, truly such a slug with water for brains…”
“If you can complain that much then you definitely don’t have a concussion,” he concludes. But because Dazai seems to be really disgusted by his sticky hands, he makes sure to keep on wiping it on the other’s face and hair.
Another pitiful moan like he’s on the verge of death.
Ha, it’s just how he deserves.
Surrounded by his dogs being happy they have additional playmates that aren’t a disgusting mackerel who mutters darkly about licking Chuuya—as well as a disgusted mackerel beside him—he feels like he’s overflowing with power.
It’s the absolute best!
-
“I’ve grown so much stronger, huh,” he mentions off-hand, as he jumps a bit on the sand, feeling like he could soar up to the sky with the amount of energy he has. “Consider this your warning, shitty Dazai, piss me off today and you’re getting buried in the ocean!”
Near the end of summer break, and he celebrates finishing a part-time job and taking care of all pending assignments by going to the beach. Claiming that he wishes to be around his favorite food, Dazai tags along, nagging him about sunscreen and beach blankets and basically wrapping him up like a walking sushi roll.
“I wish to be buried six feet underground too,” Dazai moans in dismay, eyes zoned in on the hem of his beach shorts. “Seeing a slug jumping around is bad for my health.”
He kicks some sand towards the other’s face. “Stop looking then!”
“I wish I could, but what if I end up stepping on you because you’re so small?” A miserable pout. “And then whose homework will I copy and who will cook crab croquettes for me?”
“We’re from different courses to begin with, stop copying my assignments already! Kunikida-sensei emailed me for the hundredth time earlier today!” There have been too many times that the Dean of Dazai’s course has emailed him to ask him for help to smack sense into this supposed genius who never hands in homework but aces all exams.
“256 times,” Dazai mumbles darkly, because he’s too lazy to do his own assignments but spirited in keeping track of the most useless shit.
“Since you’re aware of how much unnecessary emails are clogging my inbox, can you stop being a lazy asshole and actually do your work?”
“I can, but you have to treat me to a lot of food for tomorrow’s festival.”
Honestly, he hasn’t been expecting the other to agree at all, so he’s shocked enough to agree in turn.
Dazai brings him to a secluded part of the beach, separated from the rest of the beachgoers by several boulders. He’d have more complaints about this, but he figures that if he ends up murdering the stupid human, at least there wouldn’t be any witnesses.
Plus, Dazai finally stops nagging at him about covering up. He stops zipping up his beach jacket, stops claiming that the sight of his bare chest is making him want to vomit.
The sea waves are refreshing against his overheated skin. The rest of the day goes well enough, even if it’s cut-short because Dazai faints, presumably from a heatstroke.
-
Despite his concerns about the other man still not fully recovered, Dazai insists on pushing through with their plan to go to the summer festival.
Not that he’s actually all that worried about a fishy bastard.
…Well, maybe a bit… But only because he’s the one who’ll have to end up carrying the shithead back if he ends up fainting again. Thankfully, there are no bodies of water nearby in the festival, so he doesn’t have to worry about Dazai falling to a river or a lake and then requiring CPR.
Lately, the human mackerel has been acting weirder than ever too. His strange sickliness aside, he’s also become more prone to doing more nonsensical things. He’s never been friendly towards his friends, but he’s on a whole other level of coldness to them recently…
Is this what humans call puberty?
How awful.
…Though… it’s pretty funny to see Dazai become all listless and aggrieved about the weirdest of things. He’s always been rather bratty, prone to fake-crying if it means getting to bite a chunk of food out of Chuuya’s bento, but lately that’s been dialed up too.
By the time he reaches the other’s doorstep, he’s already mumbled a thousand of insults towards Dazai and his childish antics. He’s become even stronger recently, so he doesn’t protest all that much when Dazai had insisted earlier that he pick him up from his house. He could be magnanimous to lesser, weaker creatures, after all!
A strange electric current zaps through him the moment the door opens.
It’s probably because he’s so affronted by the fact that Dazai’s hair is carelessly dripping into the neckline of his yukata. He’s already this old and he can’t even figure out that one is supposed to towel-dry their hair so that they don’t end up wetting their clothes.
He’s truly a gigantic brat.
He’s such a hopeless brat, so Chuuya has no choice but to stick with him and teach him how to do these things. Otherwise, he’d become even sicker, and then he’d be a nuisance to everyone around them. It’s better that Chuuya takes care of him, so as not to trouble anyone else.
Before he knows it, he’s already raising his hands and pinching the excess water off the tips of the other’s hair. Due to their height difference, this means that he has to sidle in close and stand on his tiptoes so he gets a better grip.
Dazai looks the sickliest he’s ever been, his entire face going red. With his braincells possibly burned off by a fever, he starts muttering, “I thought it was safe because you’d be all covered up, but it’s even worse like this, such a stupid slug, why do you look so good like this, I hate you so much.”
That statement makes him perk up. “Right?! This new hat is a gift from my dads, and the yukata is chosen by my sisters.” Between Paul, Arthur, Ane-san and Kyouka-chan, there’s an overflow of excellent fashion sense in his family. It must be the world’s way of balancing things, since he also has the misfortune of meeting someone like Dazai at a young age, someone who thinks bandages count as fashion accessories.
Due to his fainting spell acting up again, they weave through the festival grounds extremely slowly. Dazai leans against him, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady himself. It almost feels like they’re participating in a slow, three-legged race like this.
He’s tempted to shove the other off. It’s just that, with the way the surge of power is making his entire body tingle, he’s afraid that he’ll end up punching Dazai across dozens of stalls, thereby causing a public disturbance.
…Plus, the warmth radiating from him is pretty nice… It’s an entirely different warmth compared to the stoves of the stalls that sell yakisoba, or even the mugginess that bears down on everyone despite it being nighttime. It’s also different from the feeling he gets when he eats with his family or when he plays with his dogs.
Sometimes, he feels a muted version of this when he’s out on campus, or when he’s at his part-time job as a barista, or when he’s chatting with his classmates… The intensity is the strongest when he’s with Dazai though.
There’s a certain permanence to it, a certain feeling of confidence. An assurance that he’s never going to be weakened, that he’s never going to be without this degree of strength.
It’s… quite nice.
As they pile up bags between them—sparklers, random trinkets, small plush toys, some goldfish from their impromptu competition, a great many snacks—they make their way to a more secluded area, away from the bustle of the crowd.
Today’s festival is near the port area, so it’s easy to slip into the docks and duck behind the metal crates. There’s a small, private shoreline that affords them an easy view of the moon floating above the city skyline, Yokohama Bay glittering with the lights of fireworks being set off from the festival grounds.
They plow through the snacks as if starved. Well, Chuuya still believes in a delayed growth spurt, so eating a lot is well within his usual agenda. Dazai stuffs his mouth with snacks too, making his cheeks puff out.
He can’t help but sigh, “How are you this energetic when eating snacks, but not vegetables?”
“I’m stuffing my mouth so I don’t have to say anything I’d regret,” Dazai talks with his mouth full, because he’s mannerless like that.
He sighs again, rolling his eyes. Lately, Dazai has been prone to making these weird, overly dramatic statements, even though he still retains his childishness. The gap between his seriousness and brattiness, his coldness and stickiness… it’s… quite funny.
He reaches out and pokes the other’s cheek. “If you end up choking, I’m not going to give you CPR again. I’ll just go straight to punching your chest so you’d cough it up.”
Dazai opens his mouth, presumably to complain, but they’re interrupted by a loud rustle behind them, and then hooting laughter.
Another demon, one with a long braid and a jester’s mask.
Chuuya immediately stands, widening his stance so he could cover up the still-seated Dazai. Instinct honed throughout the years—no matter how bold and confident, Dazai’s body is still of a human’s, fragile and easily snapped into half.
“Oh, pardon me!” The other demon is practically bouncing on his feet. “No need to be so hostile, fellow demon, I’m not going to poach your prey.”
“…………Ha?”
Behind him, there’s the sound of Dazai’s palm hitting his face.
The other demon doesn’t seem inclined to read the atmosphere.
“As an elder demon, I would suggest feeding on a more secluded place, especially if the two of you are going to reek so much.” Two hands raised as if to showcase his harmlessness. And then, a sly twist to his lips. “Unless you’re inviting others to share him, little incubus?”
“……………………Ha?!”
Prey? Is this bastard implying that he’s going to eat Dazai? That shitty mackerel Dazai? Sharing that shitty mackerel Dazai with a random stranger…?
Power seethes underneath his skin. His grades for languages have always been great, but the other’s words simply don’t make any sense. No matter, if he tries to reach for Dazai, he can always just destroy him. Peace treaties don’t cover disputes between demons, after all.
He just has to eliminate this threat to his—
“Oh, so it’s like that.” A clap of hands as if he’s just understood something very important. The clown demon twirls and says, “It’s my first time seeing an inclusive incubus, wait till I tell Dos-kun about this!”
Just as suddenly as he has appeared, the other demon disappears.
He whirls around immediately. “You—!”
As expected of Dazai, he’s ready with a bunch of bullshit. “It’s not my fault that you were such an idiot you actually believed me, chibi. Plus, thinking that you’re a dog demon is good for you, right? You’re just embracing your true nature!”
“You—!!” He grabs the other by the lapels, shaking him.
Dazai’s face flushes, and power spikes inside him, as if the other’s enough of a dumbass to feel even more aroused when confronted by his anger. “You should be thankful, I just spared you of the embarrassment of having to learn how to idiotically seduce others.”
“You—!!!”
“Plus, that thing was probably malfunctioning that day. There’s no way an oblivious idiot like you can become an incubus when you don’t even realize what Valentine’s Day is. You’re now a demon that can only survive if you flirt and fuck others? Hold their hands? K-K-Kiss them? It’s so stupid!”
All this while, he’s been getting all this energy because of Dazai’s feelings for him?! How many months has it been?! He doesn’t even have to flirt with him, and yet he’s already sending him all this power?! What kind of idiot is this shitty fish?! And what kind of idiot is he, for actually finding this endearing?!
“I HATE YOU SO MUCH, YOU SHITTY MACKEREL—!!!”
Of course, given that he follows this up by shaking Dazai hard enough so that their mouths are smashed together, willingly being infected by this sickness—he really isn’t convincing in the least.
-
-
-
Shortly after, he discovers that with enough harvested energy, he could actually be strong enough to fly. So, he decides to never let Dazai out of sight, so he could always be buoyed by this feeling.
In the end, it seems that there really is no escaping their own gravity.
-
end