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“So...” Dazai began, a mirthful tone to his voice, pitch rising at the end into a question. “...can you fly?”
Chuuya looked up at the fifteen-year-old boy he’d met that morning, who was now walking precariously atop a thin brick wall surrounding the gardens they had entered. His arms were outstretched to the sides to keep his balance, and the wind picked up the bottom of his coat, throwing it out behind him. There was a sheer drop on the other side of the wall down into the forest. One misstep would lead to a perilous fall.
“Can I what?”
“You know? Fly!” Dazai said again, this time turning on the spot to face Chuuya as he began to walk backwards, testing his luck. He flapped his arms like a bird to demonstrate his point, grin plastered on his face.
“Are you fucking stupid, of course I can’t fly,” Chuuya replied, grumbling. He followed behind the dark-haired youth, walking safely on the ground beside the wall, kicking rocks as he went. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, and his hood up to cover his face. It was bad enough that he was out of his own gang’s territory, and even worse that he had been blackmailed into working with this kid from the mafia. He didn’t want to engage in small talk; the sooner he could get this job done, the sooner he could go back to The Sheep.
But Dazai continued, undeterred by his unwilling partner’s attitude.
“But you can control the gravity of anything you touch, right?”
“Yeh. So what?”
“Including yourself.”
“Yeh, what’s your point?”
“So, if you change your own gravity, make yourself anti-gravitational I suppose, you’ll float. You can do that, can’t you?”
Chuuya kicked another rock, this time hard, straight at Dazai. It was aimed at his face, but moments before the impact, it stopped. A subtle red glow surrounded it, and it began to float slowly upwards. Dazai hadn’t even flinched, and as he watched it rise, a look of pure joy spread across his face. He laughed loudly.
“So you can fly!” he exclaimed happily.
Chuuya huffed. “I wouldn’t call it that,” he replied sourly.
Dazai jumped down from the wall, and leant forward towards Chuuya who instinctively backed away. Dazai’s one visible eye was bright, focused, intrigued.
“Do you ever find tall buildings and throw yourself off? Fly around the city?”
Chuuya looked upwards, running a hand through his hair beneath the hood, sighing. “I have done, when I was younger. Not for a long time though. Kinda gets boring after a while, especially when you’re by yourself.”
Dazai leant back, hands in his pockets and whistled. He smiled again, this time a little darker.
“Did you ever get the urge to just...not stop yourself? To let yourself fall?”
There was a seriousness behind the question that instantly put Chuuya into a state of unease, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. What kind of person asks that kind of morbid question?
“Of course not,” Chuuya said, pushing past Dazai. “What is wrong with you?”
Dazai chuckled behind him, and then caught up, falling into step beside Chuuya. “Just curious is all.”
“Sure.”
“I’ve thought about what it would be like,” Dazai said, the playfulness now absent from his voice. “How it must be nice, just before you hit the ground, knowing it’ll all be over in a few seconds.”
Chuuya glanced to his side, concern evident on his face. Dazai had his hands clasped behind his head as he walked, staring up into the sky, looking thoughtful.
“...You need to get yourself some help kid.”
Dazai laughed, but there was none of the warmth from before.
“Yeh. I’ve been told that once or twice.”