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“Wow, today’s really the worst day in years.”
As someone who has successfully attained his dream of reaching death’s embrace, Dazai’s only remaining fear is to experience that which that most of his fellow souls long for: getting summoned back to the human land of the living.
Necromancy nowadays don’t even require ancient scrolls and deciphering old runes. A simple thirty-minute Youtube tutorial does the trick. Online resellers make it easy to find paraphernalia that would have taken long barters with apothecaries. In any case, it means that the practice of summoning souls can be done by even the most common of people.
Dazai pouts as he floats over the person who has summoned him. He really shouldn’t have been too curious. Summoning souls is a common hobby for the living, but because it’s done rather casually, summoning is based more on proximity rather than intent.
Dazai has been floating around near an interesting-looking bar with a game hall about to be demolished. Several new malls and apartments are about to be built in the area, so a lot of the old buildings are due to close down. If he hasn’t been so intrigued about the place, he would have escaped being summoned by this man.
He squints at the drunkard that’s facedown on an old billiards table. Several bottles of expensive wine surround him, fragrant in a way that only true vintages are. His cheeks are red enough from lack of sobriety. He should be unattractive, especially since he’s drooling all over himself, mouth half-open as he snores in his sleep. He should be unattractive, but even his great drunkenness isn’t enough to dispel his natural beauty.
Dazai pokes one sticky cheek. Ah. He’s not completely incorporeal now, apparently. His fingertips tingle with electricity, perhaps a reminder that they’re still of technically different realms. “Wake up, little drunkard,” he starts to singsong loudly when five minutes pass and his summoner continues sleeping. “You summoned me for a reason, right? Why are you sleeping on me now? This is so boring, hello?”
It seems that being summoned to the human realm somehow instills a barrier in his thoughts. Now that he tries to think about it, he can’t quite remember what he has been doing for the past four years during his death. There’s a vague sense of having existed as a too-bored soul in the netherworld. But, it seems as if there’s a misty film over those thoughts.
…No matter.
If there’s anything really important, he doubts that he’d be able to forget about it so cleanly. There probably isn’t anything too exciting about being a wandering soul.
At least, nothing as interesting as this human in front of him.
Can he even be called a human?
Dazai purses his lips as he continues trying to wake him up. Incredible beauty aside, this human is interesting in other ways too. There’s a dark hollowness in his heart, like it’s been stolen by a powerful, nasty spirit. If he squints at the area, he could distinguish some fingerprints, like this person’s heart has been literally clawed out of his ribs.
Of course, his physical heart is still there, otherwise, he’d be dead. But the metaphysical heart is gone. There aren’t any traces of power around the gaping hole, so it’s been quite some time since his summoner’s heart has been taken away.
How did he manage to survive for so long with an impaired soul?
That’s interesting enough for him to want to stick around and find out.
-
“Get the hell out of my sight, you stinky ghost!”
…His summoner is a brute. It’s been a month since he’s been summoned, and it’s been a month of them bickering and yelling at each other.
“It’s not my fault that you’re too short to appreciate the sight,” he says as he floats in the air, right atop the other’s tiny head. He’s not-completely corporeal, but if he focuses hard enough, he could attain a solid-enough form for short intervals. Enough for him to be able to decorate Chuuya’s ceiling fan with bandages, at least.
“My height has nothing to do with this,” Chuuya hisses in distaste, swatting at his floating legs using a pillow. “Stop stealing from my wallet to buy this nasty shit!”
He points out, “Someone who has a collection of tacky hats and old two-player games has no right to lecture me on useless purchases.”
“My hats aren’t tacky, you shut your mouth!” And then, the tiny slug glares at him sullenly. “I don’t even know why I have so much of those games, urgh.”
It seems that for certain summoning types, the summoners are also afflicted with a similar memory barrier. Chuuya can’t seem to fully remember the details about the hows and whys of his summoning of Dazai.
“The only thing I remember well is finding a certain demon scumbag,” the short redhead mumbles as he tries to read through the stash of books that he’s found.
The two of them—one gorgeous, genius, gregarious ghost, and one… slug-like human—occupy a tiny apartment that seems too small even for one person. But, there are plenty of evidence that two people used to cohabit this space. There’s clear delineation in the closet and in the contents of the bedside tables on either side of the single bed piled up high with mattresses, like they’re trying to reenact The Princess and the Pea.
There are chargers for two types of phone. There are a lot of two-player games and there are clearly two owners of the consoles left behind, given the personality on the stickers attached on them.
“It’s probably the same one who stole your heart,” Dazai says after a few minutes of consideration.
A sound of agreement from Chuuya. “You claim to be a genius ghost, right? I probably ended up summoning someone who could help me track down that scumbag.”
“I think you should forget about him,” is what he says a couple of moments later.
“Ha? You want to be useless and skive off your reason for being summoned here?”
They’ve already scoured the areas about to be demolished. Bar Lupin, that game hall. Their last clue is that Chuuya used to go to that game hall with someone who flirted a lot with girls and bickered a lot with Chuuya. That same someone is apparently a regular in that bar too. They couldn’t get a name or proper identification.
That creature they’re looking for definitely has supernatural powers, if he could erase his presence like that.
“You’re just a puny human, even if you’re more violent than others.” He dodges the pillow that comes hurtling towards his face. Incorporeal or not, Chuuya’s hits always give him a dull ache whenever they land. “Even if you’re able to find that scumbag who left you behind, it’s not like you can defeat him, right?”
With puffed-out cheeks, “You never know unless you try!”
…Quite adorable. He’s so distracted by this sudden attack of cuteness that he ends up blurting out, “Plus, if that scumbag could spend time with you and decide to leave you be, is it really worth it trying to find them?”
“………Oi.”
“What I mean is, they already know to leave a chibi behind,” he tries to explain, moving his eyes away from Chuuya’s wide-eyed look. “I doubt they’d want to be entangled with you again, so trying to find them is futile!”
Eventually, the fluster on the other’s cheeks subside as he thinks about another point. “Oi. Why the hell is the assumption me being jilted and left behind? I could have kicked him out!”
“Impossible,” Dazai denies firmly. “You’re the sort of idiot who’d want to continue giving chances to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
Chuuya gives him a strange look.
“I’m insulting you,” he clarifies before the shortstack can misunderstand. “You’re too much of an idiot to know what’s good for you, that’s all.”
A loud huff. “If the scumbag I’m looking for is anywhere like you…” A shudder. “How unlucky could I be? Meeting two such assholes in one lifetime?”
“I’m sure to be so much more beautiful and so much smarter than him,” Dazai declares with a click of his tongue.
Chuuya shakes his head as he tries to whack him with one of the notebooks. A diary, it turns out. It’s labeled ‘Book of Erotic Poems’, but the insides seem to be a daily record of that scumbag’s complaints about Chuuya and his lifestyle.
Dazai peers at the writings and feels himself nodding along with them. Some of the complaints seem really valid. The owner of the diary mentions things about Chuuya’s tendencies to squeeze a little too much lemon over his karaage, his impromptu bathroom concerts, and his ill-advised collection of gaudy fedoras.
“Someone whose idea of a home décor is hanging bandages over my ceiling fan? Don’t have the right to claim to be smart.”
“I’m definitely smarter than that guy,” he insists.
After all, even though he agrees with the other person’s complaints, he wouldn’t leave Chuuya behind. It’s too much fun trying to irritate him, plus he’d always succumb to his whines for crab, even if his solid form doesn’t last long enough for a full meal. The spoonfuls he manages to sneak in more than make up for things.
“Sounds like you two would get along well,” Chuuya concludes with a deep sigh. “Maybe I should stop trying to find him. If you two end up meeting… I’d probably just get a massive headache.”
“If we end up meeting, I’m going to kill him,” Dazai says sincerely. After all, the other party’s continued existence means that there’s one other creature in this world who has listened to Chuuya’s snoring while asleep. That there’s one other creature in this world who has seen the birthmark on Chuuya’s inner thigh. That’s there’s some creature in this world who has literally gotten hold of Chuuya’s heart.
Chuuya gives him another strange look. “Big words from someone who can’t even lift his spoon for more than five minutes.”
The jab towards his lack of sustainable physical form makes him huff. He drapes himself over Chuuya’s lap, knowing that despite being incorporeal, his aura would still disturb Chuuya’s senses. “Isn’t that just because I know you’re there to spoonfeed me?”
“I really would rather use the spoon to dig out your intestines,” is grumbled above him, but there’s a distinct lack of bite in those words.
“Nah. You like me a lot, so you’d probably end up crying before you can do something like that.”
A derisive glare. “For someone who’s like air, you have truly thick skin.”
“I told you, didn’t I?” A pointed look towards the other’s flushed cheeks. “I’m smart, so I know your little secrets, little man.”
Chuuya sighs eventually. “You’re lucky you’re incorporeal right now, or else I would have long punched you to the next city.”
“I’m lucky indeed,” Dazai agrees, and doesn’t say out loud: “After all, I managed to meet you.”
…He’s pretty sure Chuuya has heard it loud and clear anyway.
-
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“Were you ever planning to tell me that there are demons trying to hunt you down and assassinate you, asshole?”
Dazai blinks as soon as he enters the window of this apartment that he shares with his human boyfriend. It’s small and cramped, definitely not someplace that one would expect that the infamously-picky demon prince would inhabit. It’s a perfect disguise, plus it gives him a lot of opportunity to cuddle his lover in the name of space-saving.
“That’s your main concern, Chuuya?”
He’s used a human disguise while he’s in this realm, skiving off his responsibilities from the demon realm. He has no plans of joining the lively infighting over the throne, preferring to be lazy and treat the human dramas as free live-action tv.
He’s met and claimed Chuuya as a lover while wearing a human disguise. He’s been hoping that he could keep things that way until Chuuya’s old and wrinkly, and then when he’s too weak to raise his fists on him, he’d whisk him away to the demon realm and transform him to a demon so they can have an eternity together.
…Now, it seems that not everything is going according to plan.
“Did you actually think that I didn’t suspect that you weren’t human at all?”
At times like this, being honest is probably best. So, he shakes his head. “No, I thought your brains were too small to suspect such things.”
Chuuya shakes his fists at him. “Bastard! Leave my height out of this!”
He catches those fists, and presses them against his mouth. He could taste miasma on them. “You’re a human who has defeated demon assassins who came after me. They definitely wouldn’t stop trying to hunt you down.”
“I’ll just beat them all up,” is Chuuya’s too-confident declaration.
He shakes his head. “You’re strong, but demons are powerful.” He embraces his lover and takes a deep breath of his usual, comforting smell. “I’ll have to return there and stop them from trying to come here and disturb our lovey-dovey love nest.”
Chuuya lets out retching sounds. “Sounds absolutely disgusting. What love nest are you talking about!”
“Chuuya, I’ll have to leave for some time, you should let me act sweet now, okay?”
“As if I care if you leave and never return.” Despite the caustic words, Chuuya hugs him back even tighter. “If you take too long, I’m going to forget you and move on with my life.”
He knows it’s just Chuuya being stubborn and unwilling to give him sugary words, but he still whispers, “Even if you end up forgetting me, I’ll make sure to cling to you and make you fall in love all over again.”
“Stop being proud of being an annoying stalker,” Chuuya chides him.
“Since I’ll be gone for some time, why don’t you give me something nice?”
A light punch to his waist. “You mooch off me all the time and you have the audacity to ask for a farewell gift?”
“Chuuya,” he says softly. “I want your heart.”
Not the physical one, of course. The metaphysical manifestation of it. It’s what could be considered a human’s soul. Not everyone could survive it being gone, but Chuuya’s a strong enough person with such a stubborn willpower, so he’ll definitely manage.
However, it isn’t exactly something that other people would casually give away.
He’s ready to be rejected. After all, isn’t that a human negotiation tactic? To start off with a big request, to make the next request sound more reasonable and agreeable? This way, he can ask for seven days and nights of lovemaking to send him off.
However, this too isn’t according to plan.
Chuuya kisses him and looks at him with bright eyes. Eyebrows raised. “What are you waiting for, shitty Dazai?” He lifts his hand towards his chest. “Go ahead and claim it already. If you take too long to return it, I’m going to hunt you down.”
He ends up laughing as he presses kisses all over his lover’s face, just as he claws out the other’s heart, warm and comforting in his hold.
Wistfully, even as Chuuya punches him for his words: “Perhaps I’d take a really long time, just so I can see you hunting me down.”
-
end