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The man considered to be the worst villain in the entire universe is quite odd, all things considered.
His infamous acts of evil aside, the most recognizable thing about him is his extremely long hair. Dyed a brownish red, it’s long enough that even when braided, it has to be looped over his neck like a makeshift scarf, just so it doesn’t end up dragging against the ground.
As a mercenary who’s in a straightforward job relationship with him, she can see a little bit more than the ordinary folks.
Everyone else would just think of him as the enemy threatening the safety of the world, the enemy that’s hunted down by so many organizations to the point that his face is plastered everywhere. It wouldn’t be surprising to find some elders who’d recognize him better than they could recognize their own estranged families.
Her organization works as a personalized merchant—they receive customized orders for certain products, and they do their utmost to fulfill those orders.
Dazai Osamu is quite the generous client, if one only measures the amount of money that he allocates for his orders. He’s also extremely strict with his requirements, merciless in cutting down those who aren’t able to fulfill his orders to the letter.
Speaking of cutting down—she can’t help but think that it’s strange, how Dazai insists on wielding two swords. There’s a sense of awkwardness in the way that he uses them, like his proficiency isn’t something that’s been drilled to him by years of training.
She makes it a point to never look too deeply into the backgrounds of her clients, but it’s impossible to curb such curiosity about this man. After all, he’s [No Longer Human].
One who has denounced his humanity, declaring his desire to ascend to godhood and exterminate those who’d go against his plans. Dazai is currently constructing an entire sphere surrounding The Pillar, with materials from far-off planets. He doesn’t divulge anything as to the purpose for this sphere, but anyone with eyes could see that it’s nothing good.
The Pillar is the spot in which the last sacrifice has laid his life in order to seal the god of destruction that descended in order to wipe out Earth. Nobody knows what would happen once that Pillar is disturbed, and nobody has dared to find out.
Nobody, aside from this client that she’s currently working for.
To add to the list of his oddities, here’s one more: he likes to spend time in the kitchen. It’s not something that she would have ever linked to someone who gives grandiose speeches that are propagated across light-years of holographic screens, while saying things such as, “I will achieve my goals and obtain that power in my hands, even if I have to ascend to godhood and destroy everything in the process.”
But here he is, asking her to meet him in the kitchen because he isn’t finished with cooking yet.
She doesn’t look too closely, but it seems a lot like a simple breakfast. She doesn’t think that she’s going to be offered a bite; she’s sure that she doesn’t want to try. It’s a plain omelet, with mushrooms and octopus wieners. Dazai Osamu cooks while wearing an apron with a cutesy pattern of fluffy sheep frolicking across the fabric. His very long hair remains braided and looped over his neck like a noose.
In sharp contrast to the homely scene, his voice is utterly cold. “How is the search for the diamond stardust?”
She averts her gaze from the sight of Dazai writing something that looks like ‘my dog’ using ketchup. She pulls up her tablet, clicking on it to check the collection progress. This batch of order is trickier than usual. “Searching for diamond dust on Cluster X-3 did not yield results. My fleet has encountered a deadlock in the entry to the area, it’s currently being hoarded by space pirates.”
“When can you complete that order?” Casual, as if he isn’t asking her to find one of the rarest materials in the universe. One that requires going to miasma-covered regions teeming with abyssal lifeforms, and then fighting off local mercenaries and space pirates who are also hoarding resources.
Dazai Osamu doesn’t look at her, his crystalline blue eyes focused on looking at the food that he’s cooked, as if he’s trying to inhale it using his five senses.
She shivers, feeling like the other’s aura exudes wrongness. “If we try going to the Southern Cross Cluster, there should be more government inspectors on the way, but that would also mean less pirates, so it should be more efficient.”
Diamond stardust is extremely rare because the conditions for its formation are harsh. One thousand different creatures must die over the course of a thousand days, then their blood and flesh must be compressed under high pressure. With their skeletons ground to dust, those dust particles must then absorb those compressed entrails, then left alone for another thousand days. The only genuine diamond stardust must be formed under natural forces; for example, synthesizing it inside a laboratory would not yield the right one. Due to its formation process and its red luster, the more romantic merchants like to call it ‘the tragic heart of solitude’.
Dazai starts taking out something that seems to be an old bento box. It’s an artifact from the olden days; she occasionally gets orders for it from those who liked to have collections of accessories from the world before.
His gloved fingers move gracefully, transferring the food to plate them into the box. “I asked for a timeframe,” he reminds, chilling the air further.
“Lying is useless to that demon” is an adage that circulates amongst their kind. There are talks about how Dazai possesses multiple Asters, and that one of which is the ability to sniff out lies. More terrifying are the rumors about how Dazai doesn’t even have an Aster, so he should have been the lowest, most banal of them all.
A part of her thinks that Dazai not possessing an Aster is more believable, as if even the stars themselves can’t bear to attach themselves to that person.
Nevertheless, Aster or not, she doesn’t want to lie to a client. “I’m not able to give a proper estimate, given the resource.”
“Then I would like a refund,” sounds very reasonable, but she has a feeling that he’d also want to take a pound of flesh for the time wasted. “It’s imperative that I get it as soon as possible.”
“With all due respect, harvesting it should have an allowance of at least a year.” She didn’t rise to being the best in the business by throwing others under the bus, nor did she achieve it by making false promises. Even if Dazai takes his business elsewhere, there’s absolutely no way to get what he wants in such a tight timeframe.
“It’s his birthday soon,” Dazai says, in a tone that’s so like a child about to cry.
It’s such a bewildering moment, that she suspects that she’s overworked herself that she’s hallucinating. Case in point, the pitiful tone disappears immediately.
Then, the reality of what the other has said barrels into her.
It’s a birthday gift?!
That super-rare material is going to be used as a birthday gift?!
But she’s pretty certain that Dazai doesn’t have any close relations with anyone. It doesn’t even require additional investigation—there’s literally a force field surrounding him, further separating him from the boundaries of others. It’s also part of why he’s so formidable; with such a strong barrier, attacks have a hard time reaching him.
Untouched and separate from everyone.
It’s a lonely, terrifying existence.
“I’m sure he’d understand that it’s a difficult thing to procure,” she says, cautious.
“It’s the only gift that would fit,” is said so softly, that she could almost imagine the tenderness for someone so beloved. Completely at odds with the rest of his statement, “It’s such a poisonous thing, it’s sure to corrode his hands if I give it to him. For someone so hateful, only that would suffice.”
…She elects to stop trying to understand Dazai Osamu. She’s sure that in his villainous mind, it’d make sense to procure the rarest material to gift for an enemy’s birthday. She knows that her clients have their own quirks, but that’s a little too quirky for her.
She clears her throat, and adjusts the wig atop her head. One of the requirements of working for Dazai Osamu: to wear a certain set of clothes, including a wig and a pair of contact lenses. Incredibly narcissistic, if she must say so herself, for the hair color and eye color both match Dazai’s red and blue. Even the outfit style is similar to his, like a splintered mirror image.
Other parts of his strange requirements include being exactly 21 centimeters shorter than him, and going by a certain name for the duration of their work relationship.
“Chuuya,” he calls her by that strange codename. “Shut up and stop questioning me.”
That’s her cue to stand still and not say anything further. She keeps her mouth shut, processing the refund for the order of diamond stardust. She bows down, knowing that he’d contact her again if he has other orders. She hopes that she hasn’t earned his ire; while her organization falls under the protection of the Neutral Alliance Treaty, she also knows that Dazai Osamu is someone who doesn’t care for such rules.
He wants to wage war against the world order, treaties shouldn’t mean anything to him.
She controls her breathing, at least until she’s out of his domain. She feels her palms sweating inside the gloves that she’s forced to wear. She takes several steps, until she’s at the walkway leading to her transport vehicle. Once she’s inside her transport, she’d be considered completely out of Dazai’s zone, and into the designated neutral zone maintained by the Hounds, to separate the impending battlefield from everyone else.
Dazai has already placed the area surrounding The Pillar under his monopoly, rebuffing any invitations for peace talks.
From her vantage point, the Pillar extends to the high heavens, seemingly endless. It appears to connect heaven and earth, but it actually slices into both those spaces.
Because it involves divinity, nobody actually possesses clear memories of how the Pillar was formed. It’s just there one day, and everyone just knows that it’s because a hero has sacrificed his life in order to seal the god of destruction who wanted to gather all the Asters of those living on Earth, which would have led to its destruction. The heroic sacrifice has then ushered an era of peace and prosperity, something that would last until the world is deemed worthy of getting destroyed, which would lead to the cycle all over again.
Dazai Osamu’s actions might earn the judgement from the gods: that’s the consensus amongst everyone.
He must be stopped, regardless of why he wants to take that Pillar for himself.
The Pillar used to just be a shining white column, but it’s now surrounded by celestial runes that spin all over it like moving vines. There are stars floating over it like a scattered dome, making for a beautiful sight if one isn’t aware that those stars are siphoning energy from all over the universe.
What Dazai Osamu really wants to accomplish isn’t known to anyone.
Some say that he just wants to gather all of the Asters so he could have control over the entirety of the universe. Some say that he wishes to create a parallel universe; some say that he wishes to achieve time travel. Some say that he has no actual reason for his actions, and simply wants to be evil for evil’s sake.
Just as she reaches her vehicle, she sees a representative from the Special Division standing beside it.
Sakaguchi Ango, according to the badge that he presents. After exchanging some pleasantries—the only notable part is how those glasses glint upon looking at her current guise—he asks, “How is Dazai-kun?”
…Ah, that’s right. Dazai Osamu used to be a normal human, and must have had acquaintances before.
She can’t disclose much due to client confidentiality, and it’s not yet wartime, so they can’t force her to spill information. She waves a hand. “He looks like he’s enjoying cooking very much.”
“…Cooking?”
“Complete with an apron and everything,” she affirms.
A deep frown. “Dazai-kun used to claim that cooking is the absolute one thing that he never wants to do.”
She thinks about the well-stocked kitchen, complete with tools of all kinds. It’s definitely not a kitchen owned by someone without passion for it. “Perhaps that part of him has changed too,” she suggests.
“He used to say that because his most hated person liked cooking so much, he’d never do it in his life,” Sakaguchi says, frown deepening. But, he shakes his head to dispel the gloomy atmosphere. “But you’re right. He has gotten more and more inexplicable.”
She doesn’t like to dwell on her clients once her job is done, so after getting her clearance from Sakaguchi, she drives away, refusing to get further involved. The wig, clothes and contact lenses, she disposes as soon as possible.
Two weeks later, on April 29, there are loud bells that reverberate all over the world. The mix of many war sirens make it seem as if they’re holding a grandiose funeral.
Reflected on the news screens, there’s Dazai Osamu walking towards the Pillar, his long hair finally unraveled. It’s as if he’s wearing a red bridal veil, with how it trails from his head until it sweeps over the ground. Holding it the way one would a bride’s bouquet, he carries that old lunch box, and there’s a pulsing red stone in the middle of it—no doubt a diamond stardust that’s shaped like a fisted heart.
“It’s time to wake up, Chuuya,” his voice echoes all over the world. “They all say that you’ve sacrificed yourself and that the divine rule is that the dead could never be revived.”
It’s the truth. Once someone dies, their Aster disappears, and could never be returned to them.
“If that’s the divine rule,” Dazai continues, seemingly unaware that the world watches his actions with bated breath. “Then I’d have no choice but to destroy the heavens that’s restricting your revival.”
Like a haunting lullaby—
“I’ve worn your style of clothes to show you that I can wear it better. I practiced cooking to show you that I can do it better. I haven’t cut my hair since the last time we’ve seen each other, because you kept on telling me that I wouldn’t look good with long hair. I’ve kept you alive in my memory, even if this Pillar keeps on trying to erase you from this world.”
There are booming sounds of missiles being launched towards the barrier that Dazai has erected around himself, but he marches on, unperturbed.
“I need to revive you, Chuuya,” he says, softly. “I hate you so much, so you need to come back to life, just so I can kill you with my own hands.”
And to the tune of increasingly desperate war sirens, there are words that are akin to wedding vows at the end of the world—
“That’s the kind of love I have for you, my tiny god of destruction.”
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