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Since double black was formed they have thought of hundreds of ways to kill the other. They always knew they’d go out with a bang but never could they have predicted the form it would take.
A shot to the shoulder.
A shot to the head.
And a shot for good measure.
Bang bang bang.
Three shots that would be the end for Osamu Dazai.
All dealt by a hand that had no autonomy.
Delt by a hand that was trusted.
Three shots dealt by the hand of his partner Chuuya Nakahara.
He never wanted to fire those three fateful shots but he had no control.
All he became was a puppet to someone else’s design all over again.
Three, the number that means birth, life, and death.
How fitting.
Today is the day of the funeral. Not even the sky sheds a tear and Chuuya Nakahara will do the same.
He hears crying of all different volumes echoing around him. It's like he’s trapped in a cave.
On the casket is a beautiful bouquet of peach blossoms. He’s sure Dazai would laugh at such a pretty thing being for him.
As he stares at the picture board that is adorned with a frozen image of Dazai smiling. He knows Dazai Osamu will never smile again.
He looks to his left and he spots the weretiger kid Dazai was mentoring sobbing into his hands. It's a very pitiful sight. He's never interacted with the kid but he was close to Akutagawa, one of his subordinates.
Now he knows the kid has the whole detective’s agency to comfort him but he almost feels the need to talk to him. (Maybe it’s so he can ignore his sorrow) But since when were funerals a time for good judgment?
So Chuuya, against any better judgment, approaches the boy. Hearing his approach the younger looks up. His eyes are puffy and bloodshot. He looks the same as everyone else here. Chuuya probably seems out of place for his composure.
He sniffles, wiping his face with a sleeve. “N-Nakahara-san?” He sniffles again in a poor attempt at dignity. “Um, d-do you need something?”
Chuuya opens his mouth pausing. He didn’t come over with an exact plan in mind so he goes to his default.
“Do you want to get a drink?” Left his mouth which is understandably not the best thing to say at a funeral.
Atsushi looks at him strangely. “I'm eighteen..?.”
Chuuya definitely didn't know that before but he’s dug a hole he may as well lie in it (ironic phrase for the setting)
“Pshh, I mean you’ve saved the nation right? I think you’re entitled to a little fun and I'm a mafia executive not like I'm gonna rat on you.”
That's how he finds himself here in a nondescript mafia-owned bar with a detective's agency member. This feels like a choice you make after getting drunk not before.
He gets himself a bottle of Piper-Heidsieck for about 13,860 yen(95USD). Not much for him but he doesn’t want to feel like he’s flaunting his wealth to the weretiger.
Speaking of him through light idle chat he can tell he won’t like the wine and probably would appreciate something on the sweeter side, less alcohol-ie for lack of a better word. It's usually better for first-timers.
“Nakahara-san you really don’t have to buy me anything.” The boy begins to politely protest.
Chuuya waves his hand. “It's no big deal, it's mostly loose change for me.” Well, there goes his plans of not flaunting. “And just call me Chuuya, I'm not big on all the formalities.”
“Oh sorry uh,” There's a brief pause. “Chuuya-s-, Chuuya.” There's a stutter there but he’ll take the win.
He eventually after a pause orders the drink for Atsushi. It's not awful while being inexpensive so the kid puts up less of a fight at being paid for.
As they wait in a strange silence for Atsushi's drink to arrive, Chuuya just sips his glass. There's not exactly a guide on how to speak to your dead ex-partner's mentee.
As his companion for the day's drink arrives he takes a tentative sip before his nose scrunches lightly at the taste.
“How-“ he looks at the drink as if it had offended him “How do people drink this stuff?”
Chuuya shrugs. “Preference, the first sip is always the worst.”
Atsushi nods with what seems to be skepticism as he takes small sips. The silence washes over them again for a brief few minutes before Atsushi cuts into the air again.
“You know..” he taps the side of the glass with his finger. “I always thought my first drink would be with Dazai.” It's said in such a somber tone, a type of sadness that bleeds through even an optimistic kid like him.
“Is that so,” Chuuya replies it's not even phrased like a question, it's simply an add-on because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah I mean he basically taught me everything about the world outside the orphanage, well in his own special way of course .” He lets out a wet-sounding chuckle at the end.
Chuuya takes another sip. “If there’s anything that man was, it was certainly special.” He scoffs but it sounds more reminiscent than annoyed.
“Oh Yeah you and him we’re partners in the mafia right?” Atsushi turns to face him more.
He nods. “That's true and don’t believe anything he’s said about me it's probably bullshit.”
Atsushi waves his hand around. “Well he has used some err.. let's say colorful words to describe you.”
He raises an unsurprised eyebrow. “Like what?”
Atsushi opens and closes his mouth before stumbling out some words “It's a lot of very creative nicknames if I were to summarize them.”
Chuuya just chuckles before taking another swig. “You're an innocent kid, I can't believe you got stuck with that annoying mackerel as your mentor.”
Atsushi is quick to defend his former mentor. “I mean he wasn’t all bad! He saved me from starving and-“ he pauses. “Wait mackerel? What kind of nickname is that?”
He shrugs. “When we were younger he just had this empty vacant look to him, it was like staring at a dead fish.”
Atsushi lets out a chuckle. “That’s certainly one way to take it.”
Chuuya swirls his drink in his hand “You mentioned he saved you from starving?”
The boy nods enthusiastically “Mhm! I was kicked out of my orphanage and I obviously didn’t have any money then I saw a man drowning in the river!”
Chuuya lets out a laugh at that.
He continues. “I then pull him out and he makes Kunikida -my coworker- pay for my meal. He then takes me to a warehouse at night to catch the tiger which was actually me and then learned I had ability and the rest is history.”
Chuuya leans back in his chair a little. “He’s definitely skilled at introductions, that's for sure.”
“How did you two meet?” Atsushi tilts his head as he asks “if its okay for me to know that is”
The red-haired man lets out a low whistle before downing the rest of his glass. “That is certainly a story.”
Atsushi looks to be listening intently.
“It started by me beating his ass cause this was before I was in the mafia, eventually after some stuff happens with the gang I was in and Mori ends up pairing me and Dazai together for a mission which was and honestly still is my worth nightmare but we absolutely demolished our opponents. More stuff happens which isn’t important.” He waves his hand not feeling like explaining the in and outs of his fallout with the sheep and the Rimbaud fight. “I eventually get offered a pretty much one-answer question and join the mafia.” He shrugs as he finishes his story.
“Wow, how old were you?” Atsushi asks
“We were both 15 at the time,” Chuuya says as he pours himself another glass.
“Then you’ve known each other for a super long time, right?” The boy adds
Chuuya nods. “Yeah, we did.”
‘Did’ the word rings heavy on the light conversation. ‘Did’ means used to or no longer. ‘Did’ is a common addition alongside ‘was’ or ‘used to’. The sharp reminder that Dazai Osamu did once be alive. That Dazai Osamu was killed by his sicking hands.
The air between them grows tense again. Atsushi is gripping his glass with both hands as if it can ground him and Chuuya is swirling his drink like it can hypnotize him into forgetfulness.
Atsushi takes a deep breath. “You were close with Akutagawa right?”
The shorter is a bit startled by the conversation switch but he nods regardless. “Yeah, he was my subordinate, why?”
Atsushi looks into his glass again “I more so meant if you two were friends.”
That makes him think. Akutagawa was certainly a standoffish person but he did care for the boy so while never said I suppose the answer would be, “Yes I believe so?”
“I'm sorry, I-“ The kid won't even face him. He seems ashamed. “It was my fault so please accept my apology.”
Well, that makes him blink in surprise, he knows the Ada kid wouldn’t kill anyone let alone someone he worked with. He wonders what he means so Chuuya asks for clarification.
The tiger fiddles with the glass “he sacrificed his life for me, he did what he did because I wasn’t strong enough so technically it's my fault.”
It's such a shocking reply that Chuuya just has to laugh which makes Atsushi look at him with hurt offense.
Chuuya shakes his head. “I'm not laughing at you kid it's just that, no one can really make Akutagawa do anything,” he then adds “except Maybe Dazai or the boss, but the point being.” He points to Atsushi “You didn't make him do shit. He sacrificed himself because he wanted to.” He takes a sip of his wine “Don't feel guilty. If Akutagawa were here he’d tell you how stupid you were being.”
Atsushi lets out a wet chuckle. “He’d probably call me a foolish Jinko specifically.”
Chuuya makes a gesture “See! So I don't accept your bullshit apology because it wasn’t your fault so feel relieved now or whatever.”
“Thank you Chuuya.” The kid smiles at him and he feels good about it but then he says “I can probably say the same about you too.”
That makes Chuuya pause, his hands still. “Pardon?”
“Dazais death” Atsushi choked out those words like they hurt him “it, It wasn’t your fault either.”
That makes something in his mouth go heavy. Makes him swallow non-existent spit as he searches for an answer. “It’s not that same situation.” He looks at the hands holding his glass. “You were a bystander in an impossible situation. I was the shooter in my scenario.”
Atsushi opens “Technically but-“ Chuuya puts his hand up and cuts him off.
“There’s no buts I held the gun there’s no way around that.” Atsushi shakes his head
“But- but you weren’t in control! It was Dostoevsky's orders!” Chuuya just sighs at Atsushi's logic.
“That's not the point, My autonomy may not have been mine but I still shot him, I shot him three times Atsushi. Three . These hands?” He lifts them to show the boy. “They pulled the trigger, not Fukuichi or Dostoyevsky. Me.” He lets his hands fall to his lap again.
Atsushi doesn’t know what to say, he's not Dazai. He doesn’t know Chuuya even a fraction as much as he did but he needs to try. Chuuya tried to help him. He has to do the same.
“Chuuya.” He keeps his voice level and serious. A tone that demands attention. “You did not kill Dazai. Dostoyevsky did.” Before Chuuya can open his mouth again he quickly adds “You wouldn’t blame the gun, you'd blame the person who pulled it.”
Atsushi blinks, realizing that for this situation that's not a good metaphor. “I-I mean like, you were the uh gun, and Dostoyevsky was the person right?” He moves his hands to try and save face “N-not that you're a weapon! But uh- yeah so it's not your fault okay? You, you can be sad or guilty but it's not your fault.”
Chuuya stares at him silently.
“You didn’t cry at the funeral, You don’t have to do it in front of me but you need to let yourself feel. You're still human at the end of the day.”
He sees Chuuya's eyes widen a small amount but he's unsure if it's a good thing.
“I- uh sorry if I said anything wrong and I-“ he's cut off by Chuuya putting his hand on his shoulder.
Chuuya gives him a soft smile “You’re a good kid Atsushi.”
He gives his own smile back and then there’s silence. It's comfortable this time. They know that whatever that other says won't fix the underlying problem. That this is just an inch in a 10-mile race. Eventually, that inch can become a meter. All it needs is time.
They chat about the menial because Atsushi Nakajima will not be the one to heal Chuuya Nakahara because Chuuya Nakahara has to take that first step himself.
They will go home and the emptiness will still linger, death is never truly over. Atsushi Nakajima will still cry at night over the losses and the horrors he’s seen. Chuuya Nakahara will never stop feeling guilty.
But one day he will arrive home and tears will pour down his face and he will know he has reached his first meter.
They will heal like scabbed over cuts, bloody and slow and scarring, but they will heal.
Chuuya Nakahara is a man who will always pick himself up again.
Human beings must suffer through their entire lives amid the love and hate that rule their world. There is no escape. All you can do is endure.
Endure and struggle, struggle and endure.
And Chuuya Nakahara will endure.