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“I’ve really gotten lucky.” This is said with a sigh full of adoration, eyes sparkling with overflowing affection. “Ten years from now, we’d be happily married, retired from the business and focused on nothing but our lovey-dovey domesticity, while we settle down on the countryside, away from the hustle and bustle of everything and everyone else. It’s truly amazing, how unpredictable life could be.”
Anyone who’d see this scene would think that it’s two people embroiled in a heartrending romance, with one person pursuing the other ardently. Of course, that’s only if that person is somehow lucky enough to not know either one of them.
Chuuya, the other protagonist of this scene, makes a face like he’s just stepped onto a piece of gum on the street. He rubs his arms that have grown goosebumps. “I think it’s even more amazing how you could say such words without getting struck down by lightning.”
An understanding smile blooms on the face of the person in front of him. “Sometimes, reality is stranger than fiction. I understand that it’s hard to believe such a thing.”
“It’s even harder to believe that even in ten years, supposed genius Dazai Osamu would still fail to perish away from my sight.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the door. Even when he’s wearing nothing but an oversized sheep-patterned shirt layered over shorts that don’t go past his thighs, and bunny-eared fluffy slippers on his feet, he could still manage to affect an imposing aura. He acts like a barricade over his doorway, unwilling to allow entry to fishy existences.
Said fishy existence had politely knocked on his apartment door at eight in the fucking morning of one Saturday.
Anything polite could never be linked to anyone bearing Dazai’s face without underhanded intent. This fishy existence proves even fishier when he smiles at him, and introduces himself as someone who has encountered a strange power, one that has sent him back ten years to the past. Familiar brown hair, familiar brown eyes, familiar height difference, familiar silhouette. The other’s face is more chiseled, with faint stubble that would look attractive on middle-aged men. Shoulders a little sturdier, a little bit of extra tan over his forearms. No more bandages. Suede loafers. His clothes look more expensive than anything Dazai has ever owned; in fact, they look reminiscent of style that Chuuya favors, as if he’s the one who has commandeered the other’s closet.
His hair is a little messy. There are maybe two strands of silver hair peeking out from his scalp. Laughlines crinkle on his face, a sign of a life well-lived. A sleek wristwatch that looks like it’s been taken out of a spy movie. A pair of reading glasses hang on his shirt’s pocket; he must look quite the convincing scholar if he puts them on. He also looks like he’s become good friends with the concept of skincare, as his skin looks moisturized. No more chapped lips. His nails look healthy and unbitten.
This ‘Future Dazai’ isn’t perturbed when he doesn’t invite him inside. He raises his hand and taps his lips. “You may not believe it, but you’ve been very instrumental in my life turning around, Chuuya.” He says his name like it’s something worth cherishing. A slow meandering journey across the syllables, like he wishes to make his home there.
“I really don’t believe it,” he admits, shrugging.
“I can’t say much, as it might affect the flow of time.” ‘Future Dazai’ mirrors his shrug. “And I don’t want to rob my past self of the journey that he’s meant to take with you.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Seems like you have plenty of practice with saying a bunch of nice-sounding words, huh.”
“Don’t think too badly of my past self.” He shakes his head like he’s a bit embarrassed. “Back then, back here,” he amends his words, “I didn’t understand just how important you were to me. I didn’t understand my feelings. But the moment I did, I made sure to always let you know how much I cherish you and our time together.”
Chuuya gives him a look, before shuddering again. “Urgh, that was not an invitation for you to disgust me further.”
“How about I invite you on a date?” ‘Future Dazai’ has a soft smile on his face, one that would deter most people from socking him on the jaw. “Or, how about a short travel out of the city? My Chuuya likes traveling, but we don’t have to go very far.”
“Damn it, I told you not to disgust me further!” Who the fuck says ‘my Chuuya’ with a straight face, oi! He points at the other man using his middle finger. “You shut the hell up!”
A faint chuckle. “You really are too adorable. Your younger self is a lot feistier, I kind of miss seeing you this way.”
If this keeps up, he’s going to have permanent goosebumps. “If I agree to go out with you, will you fucking quit with that cutesy shit?”
“Mm, I can’t promise anything, given how cute you’re acting.” But ‘Future Dazai’ still mimes zipping up his lips. “However, I really would like it if you go out with me.”
He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, I figured you would.” He makes a gesture that’s between rude and incomprehensible. “You stay out here and wait for me to change clothes.” He points at the spot on the other end of the corridor, because he basically is the only tenant in the entire floor, making him unable to disturb any neighbors. “You go and stay there, or else I’ll chop off your neck.”
It’s a lot like scolding an unruly bastard and forcing him to stay in a corner. ‘Future Dazai’ smiles in acquiescence, acting like a henpecked husband who only wants to make his partner happy, willing to go with whatever he says.
It is, quite frankly, very terrifying.
Chuuya suppresses another shudder, before hastily shutting his door so he could hightail it to his bedroom. “As expected of mackerels,” he grumbles, changing fast into clothes that wouldn’t be too out of place for the occasion. “He’s causing me trouble, even when I’m on my day-off and he’s fucked off somewhere.”
As far as he knows, Dazai is supposedly out on a case with those detective scrubs. Somewhere south, because the Agency’s reputation has soared following all the vampire shenanigans. Something, something, blah, blah. Dazai bombards his phone with random spam, so he basically never looks at the other’s messages unless he’s on the verge of death.
Chuuya honestly couldn’t be bothered keeping track of the bastard’s whereabouts, since he has a tendency to slink back whenever it suits him. It’d be so much better if he just stays away forever and stop giving him headaches, but he’s already known that asshole for years, and knows that he’s asking for the impossible.
He changes to soft cotton pants and a shirt that’s not in danger of falling off his shoulders. He doesn’t bother taking a shower to freshen himself up, nor does he bother combing his hair so that it’s less obvious that he’s been interrupted in the middle of eating breakfast, fresh from rolling out of his bed. Because it’s the goddamn weekend, and it’s his day-off. He grits his teeth at that reminder.
There’s plenty of pent-up aggression when he marches out of his apartment door. He barely stops himself from kicking his shoes at the other’s face, because ‘Future Dazai’ has the audacity to clap at him, sighing full of feeling. “I’ve missed you in the short moment we’ve been apart.” He even raises a hand to his heart, as if he needs to massage pain out of it. “I’m so glad to see you again, Chuuya.”
“One more shitty line and I’m going to make sure you can’t see again.” He cocks his chin at the other. “Stop wasting my time and bring me where you want already.”
“Mm, it’s okay to admit that you’re excited to go out with me.” ‘Future Dazai’ cooperatively doesn’t try to hold his hand, even as they walk down the hallway and share an elevator ride that brings them all the way to the underground parking.
Chuuya looks at his choices, then goes for his cheapest car. He expects that it’s going to need in dire need of cleaning after this encounter, so he might as well use something that’s also due for a trip to the mafia-affiliated carwash. “I’ll drive,” he says, tone not accepting any complaints. “You go give me the directions.”
“I’m glad that you trust me with the destination.” ‘Future Dazai’ takes the passenger seat, looking around the car. “I haven’t seen this car in so long, it makes me a bit nostalgic.”
“Tsk. You really can’t stop talking, huh.”
Nevertheless, he still drives them out, weaving into the lazy morning traffic. ‘Future Dazai’ gives him instructions to drive out of the city proper, one that would lead him to a scenic route with a good view of the stretch of Yokohama Bay, while surrounded by old houses and undeveloped land.
Basically, it’s—
“This should be far enough,” he says, casually driving along a long stretch of road. He side-eyes the person on the passenger seat. “I’ve played along long enough. Where did you hide that shitty mackerel?”
The moment his question drops, the person seated beside him also drops pretense. A gun is fired towards his face, but he’s already expecting it, and the other party doesn’t have No Longer Human, so he can use his Ability as he pleases.
He catches the bullet between his teeth, before crushing it using gravity. He continues driving with one hand, while the other catches the second bullet barehanded. He advises, “You only have six bullets, so you should be more economical in using them.”
“Since when did you know?” If nothing else, the disguise is truly impeccable. Anyone would believe that it’s actually Dazai with ten years added to him. He has all the hallmarks of ten years well-lived, of someone who’s enjoying a happy middle-aged life.
Another bullet, another catch. “From the very beginning.”
“Impossible,” and it has the most genuine tone in any word that he’s ever said today. “The disguise and the story have been devised to perfection! We’ve even used an Ability!”
“It’s a good disguise,” he admits. It’s like someone has taken samples from Dazai directly, created a model out of it, then added patterns that would be expected out of a certain scenario that they’ve devised. Ten years, plus a happy married life, at least to the point that he could be trustworthy enough to be able to lure Chuuya out of the city. “But, it won’t work on me.”
The face of ‘Future Dazai’ twists into something foul. “Because you actually hate him, and therefore know that you’d never marry him? I told them that the setting wouldn’t work!”
“It’s because you don’t smell fishy enough,” he explains in the simplest manner possible.
Dazai’s always-active mind wouldn’t be able to accept not having anyone else to annoy, so he’d never settle in some countryside with only Chuuya for company. Chuuya would never be satisfied with leaving everyone behind and being whisked away to a faraway place with only a fish to look at. Dazai would never cooperate that fully on Chuuya’s tastes in fashion, since he exists to be a fish-shaped headache. Dazai would definitely screech himself hoarse if he finds white hair on his head, and would instead somehow plant them onto Chuuya.
Dazai is a too-possessive asshole, who’d compete with his own self, if it comes to showing off his (fake) dog ownership over him. He would absolutely rob his past self, if given the chance.
Dazai would never pass up the chance to talk shit with him, would never agree to cease his teasing.
Beyond that, the most important thing is that—
“That shitty Dazai threw up immediately after joking that he missed me,” he says, smiling at the memory of the bastard’s prank backfiring on him. “He wouldn’t be able to stomach saying all that nonsense confessions you just made.”
Then, his smile turns sinister. “Now, it’s best that you confess where you’ve taken that mackerel hostage. Or else, I might be tempted to drive straight to the sea, and while I’ll be fine because of my Ability, I can’t say the same for you, impostor.”
“You—!!!”
He easily catches three bullets in succession. “I can find him just by the stench of his fishiness, but I’ll be a bit more merciful if you save me the trouble of combing the area.” He continues driving, closer to the place where he could sense the other’s presence. Nothing as fancy as a tracker; it’s just pure instinctive read for mackerel essence. “And if I’m not merciful, I might be tempted to let that shitty Dazai know that you’ve seen me wearing his big-ass shirt.”
The case is resolved in five minutes.
When Chuuya sees a tied-up Dazai, he spends five minutes laughing at him, before leaving him behind so he could continue eating breakfast, ignoring the other’s screeching about him being a disrespectful dog who can’t even his rescue his master properly.
Chuuya smiles on the way home, enjoying the wind on his hair, as he’s left his car for the fish to use. On his way back, he drops by a supermarket, so he can buy ingredients to cook for lunch for two.
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end