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Venturing out of the designated bunkers requires a lot of preparations: a full-body protective suit; a special visor to protect one’s eyes; a set of thick earmuffs to cover one’s ears entirely; a heart monitor that has access to emergency alerts.
Atsushi wears each one carefully, seals the door twice after he slips out. He lives in a rather poor part of Yokohama, so there’s less chance of him encountering the Lord of Flowers, but one can never be too sure.
Just the other day, he’s heard about someone unexpectedly encountering the Lord of Flowers in an old playground at the Izumi Ward. That person is still deep in intensive care, hooked up to ventilators, lungs rotten into coughing out internal organs that have been transformed into flower petals.
He shudders as he remembers that news. It’s a cautionary tale, a reminder that they shouldn’t be too careless when going out. They must keep their eyes down, their ears sealed, their hearts calm. If they see the most bewitching, most beautiful creature in the universe, they must not harbor any thoughts nor desires for the Lord of Flowers, or else they’d be infected by the Flower Disease on the spot.
Up to this day, there has been no recorded survivors, the infection effectively a death sentence.
Four years since the Lord of Flowers have appeared on earth, and things have achieved an almost-calm equilibrium. Wearing the protective suits doesn’t feel as cumbersome as before. There are no more protests about the extensive requirements for residential bunkers. The added constraints on big public interactions—as one could never be too certain that the Lord of Flowers wouldn’t suddenly show up, attracted by the fanfare—have caused more people to divert their attention to keeping pets.
It’s the reason why Atsushi is venturing out today. He works in an animal shelter, suddenly gaining popularity with the Flower Disease plague. Pets have become more sought-after, and so they gain a lot of offers for adoption.
…They’ve also had a recent rise in thefts. Akutagawa’s sparse eyebrows seem to be falling off even more at the number of incidents where they’ve had to deal with stolen animals. His taciturn coworker has chided him multiple times for not locking things up properly, a blame that he really doesn’t want to shoulder.
Even so, as a responsible man, even though it’s technically his day-off, he’s coming in to help inspect their workplace and also install some locks.
There probably is some truth to Akutagawa looking at him in disdain and sniffing at him, proclaiming him to be a person full of bad luck.
Just as he’s walking towards the animal shelter, he passes by an alleyway. On any other day, this is usually left empty, save for an occasional cardboard box where an animal is left by someone who’s decided they can’t feasibly care for them anymore.
Today, Atsushi looks into that same alleyway, and finds someone strange.
For a brief moment, he suddenly swallows down a heavy weight of realization—that he actually doesn’t know what the Lord of Flowers looks like.
Everyone knows that he’s some sort of supernatural creature that has descended upon the planet. He’s supposedly the most beautiful, most bewitching creature in the universe, that simply witnessing his existence is bound to trap any onlooker in intense feelings of desire and captivation. Perfect beings are never meant to coveted, and so anyone who dares feel desire towards the Lord of Flowers are immediately cursed with a disease that makes them cough out their insides as flower petals.
The Lord of Flowers is said to be so beautiful, that no records of his face could be kept at all. And yet, his existence is supposed to be so outstanding, that someone would immediately know who they are, the unfortunate moment they lay their eyes on him.
The person in front of Atsushi—
“…Um, you’re not the Lord of Flowers, are you?”
The person in front of him is strange and certainly feels different from everyone else, but he doesn’t exude the kind of presence that Atsushi’s been expecting. Especially since the person in front of him looks more like a skulking thief.
“Are you the one who keeps stealing puppies from the shelter?”
As if to respond to his accusation, a lump moves underneath the other’s tan windbreaker, and a low ‘woof’ resounds from him.
The stranger—who’s audaciously not wearing any protective clothing whatsoever—simply stands up from his crouch. He does it so smoothly and nonchalantly, that Atsushi sort-of expects him to give a lecture as to how crouching in the dark is actually an important exercise position.
“I think dogs are absolutely disgusting,” the man proclaims, all while cradling a puppy in his arms. “I have no plans of raising them, so I figured I should just borrow one for the moment.”
“Um, that’s called theft,” Atsushi tells the man with the most earnest tone he can muster. Something tells him that this person isn’t very well-versed with certain things, so he emphasizes, “That’s very bad.”
“Oh? I think being considered a bad boy is very sexy.”
Atsushi thinks about calling Akutagawa, despite the very real possibility of him getting glared at. Also despite the fact that he shouldn’t have the other’s number in the first place, and that calling him would reveal that tiny detail that Atsushi begged for the other’s number from Kyouka-chan.
“Please stop stealing the puppies from the animal shelter,” he insists. “There are proper adoption procedures to be followed.”
“But I don’t want to adopt this puppy,” the man says gently. “I simply want to see what makes them so popular, that’s all.”
“…Do you want to come to the shelter and play with them instead?” Atsushi thinks that maybe this man is just a little unhinged, but nothing too harmful. He’s heard of them, people who are in denial about the Flower Disease plague, trying to continue living without donning on protective equipment, as if to resist reality that way. “That way, you can interact with them without stealing them.”
The man’s nose wrinkles. “But it’s not me who wants to play with them.”
“…Eh?”
“My lover has recently discovered dogs and has started wanting to raise hundreds of them.” Even though he’s not wearing a protective mask over his face, the man’s expression is still unreadable. A mix of affection and annoyance, helplessly fond. “I just think it’d be funny to see his face once he sees me arrive with a puppy in my arms.”
Atsushi’s brain stutters over the ‘recent discovery’ of dogs. How could someone just recently discover animals? Is this person dating a toddler? Should he be actually calling the cops?
“Um,” he hedges, utterly confused.
“But maybe it isn’t worth it,” the man says, looking down at the puppy. “What if he just looks at the dog instead of looking at me, just like last time?” His voice is very soft, like a cloud that’s hiding a thunderstorm inside. “And then I’d get the urge to erase all dogs, and he’d be mad at me again.”
Atsushi hears alarm bells inside his head.
Actually—how is it that he could see this person so clearly? Hear him so clearly? He’s wearing protective equipment! He could supposedly only see or hear people that he has authorized!
Is this person actually—?!
“Since you already know that I’m going to be mad at you,” someone’s voice floats up from behind Atsushi, “the proper thing to do is to stop doing the things that make me angry.”
The Dog Thief purses his lips, but there’s no hiding the sparkle in his eyes at the other person’s arrival. “Ano ne, Chuuya. Of course, I’d want to see you mad? You do look even more beautiful that way.”
“Your tastes are too incurable.” But, there’s a hint of laughter in his voice.
Atsushi is rooted into place, unable to turn his head. Or breathe. It’s like there’s an oppressive weight in the air, like it’s been saturated with heavy metals that block his airways. A funny thing, given that the two people conversing around him seem to have relegated him to mere air.
“Ne, what are you doing here, Chuuya?”
An indulgent, “Didn’t you deliberately sulk so that I’d come find you?”
Eventually, the person behind Atsushi reveals himself.
Only one thing fills his mind, the moment he sees him: oh, so this is the Lord of Flowers. The information didn’t lie—there really is something so different about the other’s presence. There’s no doubt that he’s not originally from this world. Atsushi can’t even process it properly in his mind, like simply existing in the same plane as the other is enough to erode his senses.
Not good, not even protective equipment could prevent him from being—
“Dazai,” the Lord of Flowers says. “This kid is just doing his job.”
Dazai narrows his eyes, his petulance coloring his words making him doubly terrifying. “Hearing you want to protect him makes me want to infect him even more.”
“No, you don’t.” The Lord of Flowers approaches Dazai in a measured pace, calling into attention the fact that he’s floating from the ground, like earth itself is repelling him. “If you end up killing him despite my words, you’d always end up wondering if you’ve inadvertently strengthened this kid’s presence into my memory.”
A tense moment, in which Atsushi’s life hangs in the balance of someone’s jealousy, but he can’t do anything at all.
And then Dazai sighs, dispelling the murderous aura that has cloaked him. “You’ve always been fond of small pets.”
With all of his garden-like colors, the Lord of Flowers finally reaches Dazai. Even though he’s floating off the ground, there’s still a substantial height difference between the two figures. He picks up the puppy and bundles the tiny creature between their arms, as he gives Dazai a half-embrace.
The air around them shudders, as if disgusted by this display of affection. It ripples outward, destruction barely controlled. As if the environment rejects the very notion of their closeness.
“You’re the biggest animal of them all,” the Lord of Flowers says with a light snort. “If you must blame someone for my fondness for animals… you can only blame yourself.”
“That should be my line,” Dazai complains, but he flicks a hand and the churning feeling inside Atsushi’s throat stops, like his body has stopped trying to rot itself to form a flower entourage for the duo’s conversation.
Atsushi gasps, and gasps again when the Lord of Flowers looks at him with sky-like eyes. “Sorry about this bastard,” the universe’s most attractive being tells him, even the curl of mouth looking like perfection itself. “Don’t worry, he’s going to return all of the puppies he’s stolen to get my attention.”
That sounds like an absolutely worrying line, Atsushi doesn’t manage to say, as his eyes start rolling to the back of his head, all the stress suddenly hitting him like a truck, and causing him to faint.
His last coherent thought is that, the real curse of the Lord of Flowers is—
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“Don’t worry, Chuuya, I’m a good owner. You’re still the most beautiful dog in my eyes.”
This kind of line is the first thing he hears upon regaining consciousness. He blearily opens his eyes and is immediately faced by the thick face of the person who has the audacity to call him a dog. Well, most others prefer to call him with other names, other terms, but it’s only Dazai who calls him a ‘dog’ with such possessive affection.
No matter how much the other irritates him, that places him high in his list of those he doesn’t want to indiscriminately destroy. He shakes his head and looks around him, at the rivers of red so dark they look black.
“I’m covered in filth,” he responds in a hoarse voice. At the way the other is clutching him close to his chest, he says, “Let go of me.”
“They plan to exile you to some far-off land,” Dazai complains, sounding childish even though there’s nothing child-like about the precise way he’s able to conjure curses upon curses that have all the other gods quaking in their heels. “They think they can rob me of my dog? I’m going to smite them all.”
He tries to shrug, even though his shoulders are heavy with fatigue. “My curse is uncontrollable.”
He’s cursed with corruptive destruction, something that rages without end until his body couldn’t take it anymore. It’s indiscriminate devastation, knowing no ally or enemy alike. It’s something that should have consumed him long ago, but he’s also had the misfortune of knowing Dazai, and so there’s always someone who’s doing his best to prolong his agony.
In Dazai’s irritating words: “the dog isn’t allowed to disappear before the owner.”
Dazai’s words now are, “That’s only because they haven’t studied it completely.”
“They probably plan to send me off to a low-level world, and hope that I end up destroying it, and me alongside it.”
“I won’t allow it,” Dazai says simply, clutching his cheeks. “You belong to me. I still haven’t annoyed you as much as I wanted, so you can’t just leave me behind.”
…Really so childish. Just like a child about to cry, just like a wounded animal who’s doing his best to coax him into letting him join him in his journey.
Like this, Dazai is quite pleasing to the eye. Rather adorable, even if he’s saying such crazy things. After all, he’s the only one who ever approaches Chuuya in the aftermath of his destructive curse flaring out, he’s the only one who ever calls him beautiful even while he’s covered in the blood of those that he’s ended up destroying without thought.
“I also don’t want to leave you,” Chuuya ends up admitting, as he lets the other experiment on him once again, in hopes of changing his curse into something else.
Many, many years in the future, Dazai wouldn’t exactly succeed in completely altering his curse. But he’d be able to curtail it, at least to the point that they could hide away from the eyes of heaven. Of course, Dazai would also experiment with other curses, including ones that make people suffer for daring to feel attraction towards him.
Many, many, many years in the future, and they wouldn’t leave each other still—an even more powerful curse that they’ve willingly taken on their own.
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end