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Dazai weaved through the busy crowd, people pushing and pulling against him. Shopkeepers and vendors clamored loudly around him, selling foods and talismans and whatnots. The smell of some freshly baked pastry- bread- wafted to his nose. He banished the urge to buy some to the back of his mind, even though it had been a day or two since he'd eaten. He had only enough money for what he was here for- he didn't know how much the other would charge, after all.
He secured his cloak more firmly against himself, on alert. He had experience in being a pickpocket himself, and therefore knew how to prevent being a target, but he couldn't afford to get robbed now. (And neither could he steal from others. He had promised a friend to leave that life of crime behind already). Annoyance beginning to creep up his spine, he analyzed his surroundings, looking around. Finally, after a while of fruitless searching, he decided to approach a woman nearby to ask for directions.
Her clothing was a sight for the eyes, a long dark purple robe covered in intricate designs in pink and gold all over it. Starry skies all throughout her upper half, decorated with shootings stars and fairy dust complete with a crescent moon at the top. Closer to the bottom where her feet were hidden by silk were trees with its leaves blown by wind, wildlife and supernatural creatures living all around. Dazai silently praised whoever weaved this design, because whenever she moved even the tiniest bit, it gave the illusion that the animals beneath the trees were moving, a split second away from jumping off of her robe directly into his path. She had long, pearly golden bracelets, that were tightly worn around her wrist, gradually loosening along to drape much like her robe. On her neck was a matching necklace, long enough to reach her bosom. She wore earrings of sparkling stars, and had yet another matching headpiece holding her bun in its place, pink hair tied back with bangs covering one of her also pink eyes. In her hands was a handfan that meticulously complimented her look. All in all, she radiated an aura of wealth and grace.
She was conversing with a man Dazai didn't bother paying much attention to. "Excuse me, my dear madam, would you happen to know where a certain famed psychic resides? I've traveled from afar to find him, so I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with the area", he said, donning his most flattering aura, and flashing her a smile that had brought many women from his hometown to their knees. She gave him an unimpressed look, before looking at him from the bottom up with a scrutinizing gaze. "If it's Chuuya you're looking for, you should know he's quite far from here, boy. Continue this path into the outskirts of the market and you won't miss him."
Dazai thanked her and did just as she said. Chuuya. That was the name of the mysterious psychic he had heard so much about not long ago. He had traveled from his hometown to a city nearly across the country in search of this man. The supposed most powerful psychic of the era, perhaps even ever, having never predicted the future wrongly. Dazai first overheard rumours of this man while drinking in his favourite bar. "I'm telling you man, he's the real deal! My sister consulted him a while ago with suspicions of her husband, and he told her his husband's mistress! He even told her how to catch him in the act! People say he's never been wrong."
A psychic that was never wrong, huh. Dazai was quite smart himself, and his predictions were never wrong either, though he achieved his results with careful and logical calculation, not by some throwaway technique of reading cards. He was interested nevertheless though, and wanted to see if this so-called psychic could hold a candle to himself. (Also, he wanted to seek advice on his future suicide attempts! They never seemed to work, and he was very curious on which attempt would finally be the one to end him. He rarely allowed himself to hope for something, but he did let himself look forward to meeting this man.)
Being pulled out of his thoughts, he finally realized where he was. The outskirts of the market. A lonely place, where most of the inhabitants were stray animals and hungry children tempted by the smells of the common market, but unable to enter for fear of being enticed to steal. A single tent caught his eye, unnoticeable amidst the fog that had begin to climb up his chest. It was plain looking, a faint purple dye across it. It wasn't what he would've expected from somebody with such a high reputation, but he walked towards it anyways.
Upon entering, the aura of all his surroundings changed immediately. What had originally seemed like a small tent fitting four at most now seemed much bigger, a deep red saturation coating the place whereas the outside was just a weak purple. He saw talismans hanging from the top of the tent, lushly floating pillows that were a blood red matching the rest of the tent carrying various drinks, most of which were wine, and some carrying none, he saw mini statues of a grotesque creature lining the perimeter of the tent, he saw golden-red carpets coating the floor, and blankets upon blankets in front of whom he assumed was Chuuya.
Said man was sitting down with his legs crossed, writing on a blank notebook on his low desk. He looked up towards Dazai's entrance, and promptly put the papers away underneath the desk, with an annoyed air around him. Dazai strolled right in without bothering to take his shoes off, and threw his cloak off before laying it beside himself, sitting on the other side of Chuuya's desk. Chuuya's eye twitched before he said in a barely restrained voice, "Oi oi oi, what sort of ass doesn't take his shoes off when entering somebody's carefully cleaned tent?!"
"The sort of very handsome ass that goes by Dazai Osamu."
"Handsome? You look like you haven't eaten in days."
"It's a look I pull off quite well, no?"
"You look like you're gonna collapse at the slightest punch. Actually, forget that, ya seem like the sort of person who'd be too weak to take a punch at any given situation."
"I'd rather be intelligent than have to rely on thinking with my fist."
"I don't- jdfksj- what the fuck do you even want, bastard?!"
That made Dazai do a double take. Had he come to the wrong guy? He hadn't heard any descriptions of the famous psychic. But this guy- this very short guy, Dazai noticed with amusement- was dressed up the part, at least. He was wearing a sleeveless, flowy light purple kimono the colour of dreams, in contrast to his surroundings, dotted by golden sparkles replicated on his cheeks. It seemed to have been custom made, for every bend of fabric accentuated his body shape, as if he and it were one and the same. The ends of the kimono, as well as the band through the middle, were outlined in gold. He wore matching gloves that curved inwards on the back of his hand. He had vibrant blue eyes that fiercely rivaled the depths of the most brilliant ocean, along with ginger locks that curled around his face. Dazai thought he looked rather similar to the woman he'd seen earlier, and this man emitted a very similar aura, though there was a major difference about it that Dazai couldn't put his finger on. No, he probably hadn't made a mistake.
"For somebody who's supposedly so adept at predicting the future, you aren't very smart, are you?"
"HAAH?! WHAT'D YOU SAY TO ME, FUCKER?!"
"Oh my, to think that such an elegant place is home to such a foul-mouthed brute."
"Listen up, ya shitty bastard, I don't take shit from anybody, got it? So you either tell me what you're here for, or I'll kick your ass back to wherever you came from."
"With your height I doubt your kicks could even reach my knees."
Chuuya looked like he was about to follow through on his promise very, very soon.
"I'm here for the whole predict-my-future thing, Mister Chibi. I want to see which method of suicide will be the one to kill me!"
"Don't call me that! My name is Nakahara Chuuya, goddamnit! And what the fuck do you mean suicide method?! Plus, why would I waste my time predicting the future for such a waste of bandages?"
Ah. He had forgotten that by taking off his cloak, his bandages were showing through the ends of the sleeves of his old shirt. Well. Dazai reached into his inner shirt pocket, then threw a bunch of gold coins, tossing them onto Chuuya's desk. Chuuya's eyes widened comically upon seeing them.
"How the fuck did you get this much money, dude? I figured you were probably some random vagabond judging from your skeleton looking ass! Wait..." Chuuya's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I didn't steal these if that's what you're thinking. There are many different ways of earning such things, you know" he said, while wiggling his eyebrows and smirking suggestively.
"Disgusting", Chuuya growled, before taking three of the coins. "To think people would find such a bony asshole attractive"
"Fufufu, are you jealous? I've only ever done it with women but... I'm open minded."
"WHAT THE FUCK?! NO! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"
"Ah, Chuuya must really be an unreliable psychic if he can't predict the future well enough to know what such a great opportunity he's been offered," Dazai said, shaking his head.
"Great opportunity my ass! Also, call me Nakahara-san, got it? Not Chuuya!"
"Why? Look at us, we're such good friends already!"
"Friends?! That's gross as fuck, don't say dumb shit like that!"
"Chuuya's so cruel."
"Na-ka-ha-ra-san."
"Chuuya."
"..."
"..."
Chuuya was grinding his teeth and envisioning unleashing the mini Arahabaki statues on him. He decided otherwise, because he had a reputation to uphold, unlike this guy who was probably just your average loser. Whatever, he decided, let's just get the job over with, he thought while storing the coins away. He turned back around and picked up a crystal ball, placing it in the middle of the table. He started taking off his gloves, a melancholic air falling around them.
"Just do me a favor and shut up. I need to concentrate to work my shit and all."
Dazai was very prompted to not shut up, but he was also very much curious. He pondered about the new feeling around them both, wondering why Chuuya had such a grave expression on his face. Placing both his hands on the crystal ball and closing his eyes, he chanted his last words before the familiar darkness lulled him into unconsciousness once again.
"To thee the granting of a gloomy corruption, may ye never awaken again"
~
Chuuya opened his eyes.
Not his real ones, of course, but the ones in Dazai's future. He looked around him. Odd. He was surrounded by thick fog. It was cold and wet and he could feel it seeping uncomfortably through his clothes. He shivered. He hated looking at the future, but this was the role he'd been given in life, so he would fulfill it. He needed to fulfill his client's request, so he needed to find his future. See, most psychics looked into the crystal ball to see somebody's future, but most of them weren't all that powerful anyways. Chuuya, having been graced with a rare supernatural ability, was able to enter the crystal ball itself, allowing him to see much, much more than just a scene or two in the future, and with explicit detail.
Most psychics only saw fuzzy images, and had to bullshit the rest of what happens to seem legitimate. It was why he had a reputation for always being right. He shivered again, he should've brought one of his blankets or something, he's wearing a sleeveless kimono of all things. He started walking forwards, looking for any future memories. Dazai wanted to know when he would die, right? No problem, Chuuya would love to see that scene play out in front of him.
The fog made it difficult to see anything in front of him though. Chuuya figured the reason for the fog had to do with the same reason this guy was supposedly suicidal. The state of the crystal ball he entered into depended on the person's soul. He'd entered sandy beaches before, thunderous storms of rain, oversaturated playgrounds (don't ask him about that one, ever), and all sorts of other scenery. The view in front of him, though, was so... Boring. It felt careless, like a person who had nothing to lose, who was still alive only because even Death herself was repulsed by them. He stopped walking, in shock of what he found. Before he processed what he was doing, he stepped hesitantly forward, towards where the fog had cleared a little bit.
His steps were automatic, his mind reminiscing. He arrived right behind them. Two figures sitting in front of five graves. The Flags. He wondered why this was the first vision he saw. Dazai sat looking at the graves with an empathy the man didn't look capable of. Chuuya sat looking past the graves into the distance. At his friends. It was why he always carried the burden of guilt on his back at all times. Because even with his future-seeing, he hadn't been able to save his friends from their demise.
...
Hold on, why was Dazai there? Or, technically, since these are Dazai's future memories, why is Chuuya there? Chuuya didn't want to rewind the tape to check.
He continued walking, ignoring what he just saw. These memories were weird. Usually Chuuya would be presented with the desired memory the moment he tapped into the ball, but he supposed this inconvenience was just part of Dazai's shitty nature. The fog cleared a bit more as he found the next memory.
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, YOU BANDAGED BASTARD?!" Was suddenly shouted into his eardrums.
Chuuya watched in annoyance, a vein popping as he found yet another vision with him in it. Seriously.
"CHUUYYAAAAAAA PLEASE!" Was the response. He had stumbled into a forest, looking suspiciously like the one he lives near. Looking up, he saw a tall-ass tree which a certain dumbass had gotten himself stuck on, trying to heroically rescue a cat that was stuck there originally. "YOU'LL NEVER GROW TALL IF YOU'RE THIS STINGY!"
"WHAT THE FUCK, SHUT UP DAMMIT!"
Chuuya watched in growing horror as his future self begrudgingly began climbing the tall tree effortlessly in order to save the bastard. Chuuya didn't like these at all. He'd only ever seen himself in somebody else's future once. When he'd looked into the Flags' future. When he saw himself collapsing to his knees over their corpses, when he saw himself holding Albatross' body, listening to catch on to his every last word, when he saw himself at their funeral, angry beyond repair. It was extremely disorienting. Chuuya moved on as he heard the sound of what seemed to be two humans plus a cat fall in a heap onto the grass.
He quickened his pace, now speedwalking away from the discomfort.
The fog cleared a bit more again. Dazai was in his tent. It didn't seem like he was there to see his future again. Chuuya went closer. Dazai was cleaning his fingertips from what seemed to be the viewing of yet another client.
Oh no.
Chuuya burst into a run.
OH HELL FUCKING NO.
Bursts of colour exploded into his line of sight, fog fading more and more as visions glowed more vibrant.
Eating a warm box of bento together under the shade of a tree.
Chuuya ran.
A puppy licking Chuuya's chuckling face as Dazai stared in disgust. "I can't believe you actually got a dog, chibikko. The betrayal."
He knew what these meant.
Dazai panting after carrying a single box into their new home. "Pfft. Pathetic," was heard from the doorway, Chuuya carrying in a box with ease, his fourth one.
He'd seen these sort of visions for many other people, after all.
Dazai staring at a drawing somebody had made long ago of a certain trio. Dazai handing it over for Chuuya to see.
Call him dramatic for his reaction, he might have just met the guy, but his fishyness could be smelt from miles away!
An older Dazai, pouting at an older Chuuya rolling on the floor, convulsed with laughter at Dazai's green stony face- result of the anti-wrinkles potion he'd bought from a fairy.
He never usually went this far in the future.
An aged Chuuya dragging an aged- but no less childish- whining Dazai away from the candy section of the market they're in.
He was beginning to sweat, going further into the future than he ever had.
Both of them arguing with each other fiercely, Dazai being banished to the couch for the night.
He felt like his heart was going to stop. Considering the extreme second-hand embarrassment he was feeling just from looking at these, he wouldn't complain too much if it did.
Chuuya opening their room door in the middle of the night, knowing the other was awake- a clear message conveyed without words.
He tripped and stopped running as he fell forwards, did a mini roll and stopped on his ass, panting.
Holy fuck... GROSS.
The fog had completely faded by now, the undeniable life in each future scene giving it no choice but to evaporate into vibrancy.
He looked all around him, where the once plain, gray, boring landscape had turned so complete. All around him were various visions all playing at once, a blown-up kitchen- courtesy of Dazai, Chuuya grabbing Dazai's leg just as he leaned himself face forwards over the bridge, another person's grave visit- he couldn't see the name very clearly, but he did see it was on a hill, below a tree.
In front of him though, was the memory he'd been searching for.
Watching Dazai die was not as satisfying as he thought it would be.
He stood in disbelief and anger. The universe was a bitch, huh.
He started to return to future closer to the present, before he felt a shiver run up his body from his wrist, a red fog suddenly swirling around the memories, blocking them all out. What the fuck? He hadn't began to return to the human realm now. He tried to attain the information he wanted, if only he could reach- but he passed out amidst the red fog.
Chuuya opened his eyes.
~
Dazai understood. He understood the difference in aura Chuuya had from the woman earlier. It was such a difference that Dazai mentally berated himself for not noticing sooner. Guilt. He carried an aura of guilt. Hmm. Dazai's eyes quickly darted all around the closed space, looking for anything that suggested a cause. He didn't have much time to do this though, as around 2 seconds after Chuuya had murmured his magic spell or whatever- look, Dazai might have been a genius, but he didn't know how these things worked, ok?- before Chuuya caught his attention back.
Dazai might have looked apathetic on the outside when the crystal ball suddenly turned red and Chuuya's body went limp, but inside he was recoiling. Strange red marks began appearing on every visible mark of his body, fingers rotting away to resemble a raven's claw more than a human hand. His face, too, was infected with breathtaking destruction.
He watched calmly as blood squeezed out beneath Chuuya's fingernails furiously, hands still stuck to the crystal ball, posture nearly the same as just before he went unconscious except for his lolling head. Yet another interesting thing, Dazai thought. Weren't psychics supposed to look into the crystal ball to determine a person's future? It seemed like Chuuya was entering the crystal ball itself.
Deep red blood met deep red blood-coloured blankets, and Dazai wondered how many stained blankets it took for Chuuya to just settle for red. He sat in this way, captivated by the sight in front of him, indifferent to the cowers and tremors that terrorized them in the tent, as if the tent was terrorized itself. Wine bottles stood in place as if this was a role they'd rehearsed a million times. Talismans holding on for dear life. Empty pillows on standby ready to catch any talismans that might succumb to the force of gravity. Arahabaki's statues on guard to stop anybody foolish enough to think Chuuya is vulnerable enough like this to be robbed. Golden glitter mixing itself with the marks on his face, becoming one.
He watched in increasing concern as the minutes passed, Chuuya's breath becoming laboured, and his hands beginning to tremble. His brows were burrowed, and he was starting to sweat as if going through an intense physical exercise- though, Dazai thought, this guy looked enough to pass any physical exercise. Dazai had assumed he would just sit in his tent all day, but now he no longer thought so. His arms looked pretty muscular now that he looked closely- actually it would just be better to say he was starting to sweat like Dazai would if going through an intense physical exercise. Finally Dazai grew impatient and grabbed Chuuya's wrist.
"Hey shorty, how long is this going to take-," he was cut off short by Chuuya rapidly opening his eyes the moment Dazai touched him. Chuuya's markings instantly disappeared, their world stopped shaking, and the objects in the tent turned inanimate once again. He was glanced at by a Chuuya with rabid eyes widened to the point of no return, and a mouth gaping at him completely. Chuuya slowly turned his head toward his wrist, where Dazai still had his hand. So quick Dazai could barely see it, Chuuya grabbed him by the collar with his other hand, ran over to the entrance of the tent, and threw Dazai out. Dazai barely had time to let out a strangled scream before his three gold coins were thrown at his face, along with his cloak. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" Was heard from the tent before its zipper was aggressively closed shut.
Dazai was left on the ground wincing, wondering what was so bad in that ball that Chuuya would react like that. Well, it was pretty funny that Chuuya threw him out rather than kicking him out like he had promised earlier, but wait no that wasn't funny because now his collar was stained from Chuuya's bloody fingertips! Tch. Dazai would have to return soon to find out what Chuuya saw. He found Chuuya overly arrogant and by no means somebody he'd want to be around, but he didn't want to have traveled all this way for nothing! Ouch, his side hurt after landing on it when he fell. He glared at the closed zipper of the tent, promising revenge. For now though, he was just going to get himself that bread he wanted.
~
Chuuya was inside his tent, panting against the zipper door he had just shut. What the fuck just happened? Pushing aside the other's future, how did he do that?
Chuuya usually took a long time trying to snap out from the world of unmade memories, time ranging from 20 minutes to sometimes even hours (it was why he couldn't get as many customers as he wanted per day.) For him to just suddenly awaken all because Dazai touched him, without him even meaning to awaken, what did it mean? Perhaps Dazai also has powers of some sort...? Things like that were rare, but possible. Holy shit he was tired. Future viewing was always taxing on him, but he was absolutely spent after pushing so far for answers in the fog. What were those?! Literally what the fuck?! He remembered what he barely managed to check there just before he returned.
A week. He had a week before the bastard would come back to his tent. Any other logical person would run the fuck away to another continent, forge a new identity, and live the rest of their lives hidden in the woods, but Chuuya didn't even stop to consider it. He knew it would be pointless. He had learned the hard way that there was no escaping your future, your fate. That when the universe decides to fuck up your life by introducing headache-inducing menaces into it, you flash it your middle finger and deal with the brunt of it. "Fuck, I'm too sober for this," he said, taking a swig of the nearest wine bottle before he collapsed from exhaustion.
And at this, the universe laughed in joy.