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Chuuya stared down at the phantasm of his Ability.
He’d been expecting a beast like the one Rimbaud had spoken of when the fog had rushed over him. He’d even thought it might form the winged being that people spoke of from when he fought Guivre.
He wasn’t expecting a child.
He wasn’t expecting it to be him.
Small was his first thought and he held back a wince at the mental sound of Dazai’s laughter at the description. But it was unfortunately true.
The child was small, clothes much too big for his frame and like those you’d see someone in a hospital wearing. His hair was unkempt and tousled, making it clear that no one cared enough to brush or comb it.
But what really caught Chuuya’s attention were his eyes.
They were large and blank with markings like tear streaks descending down his cheeks.
Chuuya’s heart clenched at the sight.
It was him. Truly.
There was no Arahabaki. Just him.
The child stared back up at him, seemingly at a loss. He made no move to attack him like Chuuya had heard others’ Abilities doing. Chuuya took one step forward and the child flinched.
Chuuya paused, his heart throbbing in his chest.
Seeing the child reminded Chuuya of the Sheep, of the tiny kids, trembling and scared, that they would take in. How Chuuya had reassured each and every one that he would protect and look after them. How he’d done his best to comfort them until he saw them begin opening up and actually living alongside them. How he’d worked to fulfill that promise until the end.
Chuuya had never been that gentle with himself. He couldn’t afford to. He always had to be the strong one. He sucked it up and moved forward.
But maybe… Just this once…
“Hey.” He called softly, crouching down to match the child’s size. “It’s okay.”
The child trembled and tilted his head slightly.
“I know…” He took a deep breath, hardly believing he was going to admit this out loud. “I know you’re scared. I know you’re not sure what’s going on. But it’s going to be okay.”
Or as okay as things ever got for him.
“We’re powerful, you know?” He told the child. “And we can use that power to protect a lot of things. Our family, our city, our home.” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath before reopening them.
“And there’s a certain idiot who needs our help most of all. He’s waiting for us, but I can’t help him like this.”
He snorted. “I’m willing to try; I’m not one to back down on what I decided. But…”
Chuuya looked at the child, his Ability, right in the eye. “I need you.”
The child made no indication that he’d heard his plea, staring back at him.
Then in the blink of an eye, he was suddenly in front of him.
Chuuya could see it. A shining glimmering red, the core of his Ability, sitting right in the heart of the child.
It would be so easy to reach out and grasp it. To crush the child and end his suffering. To reclaim what he had already lost so much for.
But Chuuya didn’t.
Even with so little time, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He made no move, just letting the child study him.
And then…
The child held up his arms, a gesture that anyone could recognize.
Chuuya blinked and hesitated, but then he gave in.
Slowly wrapping his arms around the child, he hugged his younger self.
It’s what he wished had happened back then. If anyone had actually known or cared for him.
No one had. He’d been alone. But he could let himself have this, if only for a moment.
Chuuya tried to be gentle as he rubbed the child’s back in comfort. He hoped it was all right. He wasn’t good at this when it came to himself.
The child gave a small sigh.
And then the child was gone.
Chuuya looked down.
In his hand was a red diamond, a spot of black within its center.
Upon the Tainted Sorrow
It took no effort to crush the gem.
Chuuya sighed to himself as he felt the buzz of power return to him, flowing through his veins and washing over his skin.
“Thank you.” He said, though there was no one to hear him.
Then he steeled his will and straightened his shoulders. He turned towards the spire in the distance.
There was work to do.
A dragon rose up through the fog and gave a mighty roar.
Chuuya responded with an exasperated snort.
“Shitty Dazai.” He muttered as he pulled off his gloves. “Always making things more complicated.”
He spared no glance or thought to what had just transpired. As per usual, he had more important things to worry about.
But he knew the child would join the other phantoms that haunted his steps.
“Oh, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again.”