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Though many would make it seem as if it were not the case, it was actually quite easy to enter Japan’s ghost city.
In order to enter, one must simply be greatly connected with death, and be at peace with the idea of it. As ghosts were already dead, they could easily pass through the barrier and enter the Ghost City. Since Cultivators lived much longer life spans, and were much more spiritually strong than humans, they also did not have much trouble entering. However, for mortals, it was much trickier.
Most humans found themselves unable to enter, as for those with shorter lifespans, the idea of death was harder to grapple with. Because many did not want spend the time and come to terms with their own mortality, they simply were unable to enter.
However, some humans were able to fulfill the requirement, and those few were permitted entry into the Ghost City. Often, these humans were made up of the sick and the elderly, who knew they were going to die soon, and had made their peace with this fact.
That’s why it was somewhat strange when a handsome boy, not more than 18 years of age, crossed the gates and entered the Ghost City.
This youth was Osamu Dazai. He had the look about him of someone who had walked the world for many years, with bags sunk under his eyes and bandages wrapping his thin arms and neck. A heavy coat hung off his shoulders, his hands tucked under it as if he were very cold. Amongst ghosts, he would not be very conspicuous, as many spirits had signs of their death, or had become twisted and strange over the years. However, since he was a human, and since he did not even wear a mask to hide himself, many found him very odd.
Even some of the ghosts would step out of the way when he walked by. There was no evil aura around him, yet he seemed as if he belonged more with the dead than the living. Ghosts did not often see nuance in things, preferring to view them as black and white. So this young boy, clearly flesh and blood yet so much like one of the dead, made their heads ache.
The streets of Japan’s Ghost City were black as night, lit by hung lanterns, bright red in colour and painted with black characters. Many of them read the name: God Destroying, Black Sheep.
There were three ghostly Supremes in Japan: Black Sheep was one of them, ruling over the Ghost City. His reputation was very elusive and hot tempered, and many were very careful never to cross him. His symbol was that of two black wings, burning with a greatly evil energy, and those who painted it on their doors would do so as a warning.
The other two Supreme Ghost Kings were White Rat, Never Dying and Mirror Lion, Slashing Sword. Out of all three, White Rat was the most feared of them all, yet he wasn’t the most powerful. That title would always belong to Black Sheep.
Dazai knew little about the politics of the ghost world, so when he saw the name “God Destroying, Black Sheep” painted on those red lanterns, he did not shudder in fear like most mortals would. Instead, he thought it was a rather silly name, and that whoever called themselves it must have a greatly exaggerated sense of self.
However, just as he was going to head further into the crowds, a voice called out to him, making him stop.
“Hey, you. Are you lost?”
Dazai looked up to see who had called out to him, and his eyes landed upon a thin youth. He had a short stature, and a spunky air about him that made him very innocuous amongst the crowd of spirits. His eyes were brown, and his hair a reddish brown that hung in a loose ponytail.
As he watched Dazai, a smirk played on his lips, as if he had some ulterior motive. Yet his tone and posture were very casual.
“This is the Ghost City, is it not?” asked Dazai, raising an eyebrow. The boy came closer, nodding. “Yeah, it is. But aren’t you a little young to be here?” He spoke as if he didn’t appear just as youthful as Dazai himself. However, this boy was clearly a ghost, and ghosts often appeared very young when in fact they were many centuries old.
“I don’t want to be very old if I can help it,” Dazai replied, sighing rather dramatically. “I’ve spent 18 years on this earth already, and I think if I have to spend another I’ll drop dead from the stress.”
The youth snorted. “Well, there’s your problem. 18 years isn’t enough to decide if life is worth it or not. Run off and come back when you’re 80.”
Dazai shook his head fervently. “No way. I’ve been trying to find a way to end it all since I was 15, but nothing has worked. I heard that humans who wish to die often come here for a swift end, so I’m not leaving until I get my money’s worth.”
He kept walking ahead, each step filled with great intent. Dazai could hear the boy following him from behind, his footsteps subtly different from those of the other ghosts. He didn’t turn around though to see, instead keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Maybe,” the boy finally said. “There’s a God watching over you, and that’s why you haven’t died.”
“If that’s the case, then he’s doing a pretty shitty job,” said Dazai flippantly. “I think any God who would keep someone alive just to make them suffer is a bastard.”
“That’s probably true,” the boy conceded. “After all, all Gods used to be people at some point, and most people are bastards.”
Dazai hadn’t expected such an abrupt answer, and he paused, snickering. “Are you not a believer, then?”
“If I cared for Gods, do you really think I’d be here in the Ghost City, in the territory of God Destroying, Black Sheep?” The boy mocked.
Dazai looked over at him, a bit puzzled. “So that’s really the name of a person? I had assumed that it was the name of a ghost with an overinflated ego.”
The boy seemed surprised at the response, and his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. “Don’t let any of the bastards around us hear you say that. God Destroying, Black Sheep is one of the three Supreme Ghost Kings of Japan. The name IS kinda gaudy.”
“Ooh,” Dazai blinked. “A ghost king? How powerful is me? Do you think he could kill me?”
The youth gave him a strange look, finding him odd. “You really wanna die that badly?”
“Really,” said Dazai, without hesitating.
There was a long silence, then that boy said. “I might know a way then, that you can die. Do you trust me?”
Dazai grinned, and easily answered- “Not in the slightest.”
He was met with a grin in return. “Well, at least you aren’t completely crazy.”
“If you’d lived the life I’ve lived, you wouldn’t think I’m that crazy for wanting to die.”
They walked along a row of merchants, all shouting and clanging about to have their wares bought by those passing through. As they turned a corner, the boy replied- “Pretty presumptuous for you to assume that you’re the only one who’s had shitty luck in life. Humans only become ghosts because they have some sort of grudge or burden keeping them here.”
Dazai let out a groan, . “That would be just my luck, if I died only to become a spirit and have to stay here for a longer time.”
“Don’t talk as if being a ghost is such a bad thing,” the boy replied, smacking him lightly on the arm. “What’s your name, anyways?”
Dazai was still rather suspicious of the strange boy, but his name had no great significance to it, so there wasn’t much point in hiding it. “Dazai. And you are?”
“Call me A,” replied the boy. Many ghosts chose not to give out their real names for all sorts of reasons. Some wished to leave behind their mortal identities, and did not want those from their past to find them. Whereas others simply found the names didn’t fit them anymore now that they no longer walked among the living.
Because of that, the response wasn’t actually that odd. “Alright,” Dazai said. “I’ll call you A-chan.”
A seemed surprised at the overly familiar address, but only scoffed. “Go ahead. It barely matters to me.”
They passed a shrine, where ghosts were prostrating themselves and praying in a similar manner to how one would before a Divine statue. However, instead of a divine statue, there was a rather grotesque portrait of a man engulfed in black flames, a. veil covering his upper face. In addition, instead of offerings of fruits or incense, they had lit the head of an ox on fire, the flesh peeling off to reveal the glow of white bone underneath.
The young boy A glanced at Dazai’s face, but he didn’t appear to be horrified or disturbed. Instead, his expression was rather curious as he observed the worshippers. “Who are they praying to?” he asked, tilting his head.
“That’s one of the temples built to worship God Destroying, Black Sheep,” A-chan made a face, as if finding the whole display pitiful.
“That’s him?” Dazai studied the scene with new eyes, before stating: “He’s kind of ugly.”
A rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s that. Or maybe the ghosts here just aren’t very skilled at painting.”
“Maybe,” hummed Dazai.
A few female ghosts with heavy makeup stared at them as they walked the street, giggling and calling out. “Hey, boy, are you busy?”
Dazai turned, ready to respond, but A-chan seized his wrist, stopping him from responding. Dazai whined, glaring at A-chan with great despair. “A-chan is so cruel to me! That was my chance to find a beautiful woman to die with.”
“All of those female ghosts are already dead, and most of them aren’t great beauties,” A-chan said scathingly, without a shred of remorse present in his voice. “If you want a flashy death, then I can’t help you at all.”
“Fine,” said Dazai, pouting. “But A-chan can at least buy me lunch as an apology for his crimes.”
A-chan stopped in the road, turning to stare at him. “As if I’d spend a single cent on you. Besides, you’re a human. Your weak stomach wouldn’t be able to handle any of the food in the Ghost City.” A-chan snickered unkindly, which only made Dazai appear more stubborn.
“Watch me! I’ll eat anything you put in front of me,” he said, crossing his arms and holding his head high.
A-chan seemed greatly amused by the claim, mirroring his stance. “Anything?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Anything,” confirmed the other.
“Alright,” A-chan finally agreed, nodding his head. “I’ll buy you something to eat- but only if you tell me why you’ve really come here.”
He turned to keep walking, and Dazai had to move quickly to keep up with his pace. “Wait! Don’t move so suddenly. And what do you mean, my real reason? I told you, I came here to seek my own end.”
A-chan snorted. “Sure, but there’s more to it than that. You said yourself, people don’t decide they want to die without reason.”
Dazai became very still after that, not speaking. For a moment, it seemed he might turn away, but finally, he nodded. “If A-chan really wants to know, I guess I’ll tell him.”
They walked for a while more, until A-chan brought them to a small merchant stand selling bowls of what looked like ramen. Dazai took a seat at one of the shoddy tables out front, letting A-chan order for him, and lounging back as if he was a princess awaiting his attendant’s aid.
A-chan came back, setting down the bowl so droplets sprayed into Dazai’s face, and he yelped, jumping back. “A-chan! Bastard!”
“Shut up and eat your food,” said A-chan coldly, shoving a pair of chopsticks at him. Dazai broke them apart, stabbing at the ramen. As he took the first bite towards his mouth, his eyes grew wide, and he looked almost disbelieving.
Instead of noodles, long writhing worms were gathered in the bowl, squirming very unappealingly in the murky red broth.
A-chan only smirked, raising an eyebrow. If Dazai refused to eat it, he’d be going back on his word, and risk losing what little face he had. Despite his shabby manner of dress, Dazai valued what little dignity he held. So he took the worms, appearing very unfortunate indeed as he forced them down his throat.
“How is it?” asked A-chan, as Dazai struggled not to retch up the worms he’d consumed. Dazai finally raised his head, and as he did so, he smiled tightly. “Wonderful! A-chan is so generous.”
It was very clear he was lying, but the picture he made was rather amusing.
“I’m very glad,” A-chan said, then sighed as Dazai went in for another bite. He smacked his hand away, before reaching into his robes and pulling out a shiny red apple. He offered the fruit to Dazai, looking away. “Here you go. I promise there’s no worms in this one.”
Dazai blinked, then grabbed it, biting in with glee. A-chan watched him intently, head resting atop his palm.
“I didn’t know ghosts liked apples,” Dazai spoke, as he munched happily away.
“The old ghost king of the Ghost City grew a large orchard of apples of the dead,” said A, leaning back lazily. “If a mortal soul were to find one, and eat its fruit, then upon their death they would be bound to serve that Ghost King.”
“You sure know a lot about the ghost kings,” replied Dazai, but he did not seem suspicious.
“Maybe you just don’t know enough,” said A.
“Does it still work that way?” asked Dazai, suddenly very wary. A-chan only laughed in turn. “The Ghost King Mist Lurking, Red Dragon was killed by God Destroying, Black Sheep many years back. Therefore, any curses that were laid by that piece of useless trash were broken and no longer work. Do you really think I would poison you?”
“You said you were going to help me die,” said Dazai. “So it would make sense.” His logic was very sound, yet A-chan seemed to think it was still a rather silly idea.
“Forget about apples,” he said, crossing his arms behind his head in a lazy fashion. “You still haven’t told me why you want to die.”
Dazai slowed his munching, pondering the question for a long while. Then he finally spoke, and his tone was much less playful. He seemed almost morose, as if his thoughts had become very unpleasant.
“I’m currently in service of a very bad man. He doesn’t value life or death properly, and keeps those he sees useful alive, and those he sees as bothersome he kills. Often, I am the one who has to kill them.” He explained this all with a grim air, eyes empty of light.
“Why don’t you leave?” pressed the youth sat across from him, leaning forwards.
“He has many other people, and could easily find me,” Dazai told him. “I was supposed to leave with a man named Oda who was going to take me somewhere safe. But before that could happen, he…” Dazai stopped, looking down as if he couldn’t bare to speak any more.
A-chan had been listening intently the whole time, and his brows were furrowed, looking conflicted. “He can’t follow you here, though, can he?”
“He can’t,” said Dazai. “He’s a coward when it comes to death.”
A-chan turned his face as to hide the smile that grew there. Resting his head on his hand, he spoke. “Have you ever considered just killing him?”
Dazai blinked at him. “He can’t be killed so easily. Only someone very powerful would be able to do that.”
“Then find someone very powerful.” A-chan stood. “Or don’t. I don’t really care, either way.”
Dazai still found him strange, but stood as well, taking their leave. A male ghost with a gaping gash across his pale throat put a hand around Dazai’s arm, stopping him. “Are you gonna finish that?” he demanded, and pointed a thin finger towards the ramen. “If you’re just going to waste it, you might as well let someone else have it.”
“Do what you want, just don’t eat it in front of me,” replied Dazai. “It’s kind of disgusting.” He turned before the man could reply, walking off into the crowded street.
A snort came from that brown-haired ghost boy, and Dazai whipped his head around. “What? Is something funny?”
“You’re so damn cocky,” said A. “I don’t know whether to laugh or to smack you upside the head.”
Dazai raised an eyebrow, grinning back. “I have that effect on people.”
A-chan raised a hand, as if to make good on his promise and smack him, yet instead stopped, placing that hand on Dazai’s arm. At Dazai’s perplexed expression, he explained- “It’s crowded. We should do our best not to get separated, or we won’t ever find each other again.”
Dazai let out a little “hmph” sound, jerking his arm away. “Get your filthy paws off of me, you dirty slug.” But just as A opened his mouth to curse him, Dazai reached down, interlacing their fingers. “Hurry up. I’m tired of waiting to die.”
Dazai’s hand was very warm, and A-chan froze. He had the expression of someone who had gone a very long time without feeling the touch of a flesh and blood human, and didn’t know how to react.
However, he eventually accepted it, turning his face away so the other could not see his expression. “Alright then. Try not to fall behind, you stupid fish.”
Despite Dazai’s loud declarations of impatience, he ended up lagging behind, exceedingly curious about the strange attractions the Ghost City had to offer. A street performer with a billowing cape was practising card tricks, while a few grubby ghost children watched and clapped their hands.
“Who is he?” Dazai asked, tugging on A-chan’s hand to keep him from walking too far ahead.
“Just some idiot,” said A.
“Who is she?” Dazai said again, when they passed a female ghost outside a brightly lit establishment, arms crossed as a man pleaded with her. As she continued to stare at him with cool indifference, his cries became angrier, until he freely cursed at her, calling her a slut and a rat.
“She runs the gambler’s den,” said A-chan. “Stop lagging behind.”
“Who is that?” asked Dazai, as they passed a merchant, his lips tight as he tried to shoo away a female ghost with curly brown hair, sitting on the counter of his stall and swinging her stripey legs.
“That man is Mushitaro. He’s a prick, so I wouldn’t bother yourself with him,” A-chan said, very annoyed at this point. He turned around, glaring. “Shut up or I’ll leave you here and won’t help you at all.”
Dazai looked at him strangely. “You sure know a lot about everyone here.”
“Of course I do,” snapped A-chan. “I live here.”
It still seemed rather odd, but Dazai didn’t say anything more, unhappily trodding along after his companion.
He only began resisting again when they came across a brawl taking place. Two female ghosts were shouting at each other, throwing punches and scratching wildly in a blind state of anger.
Dazai perked up, thinking it would be good entertainment for his final day on earth. However, A-chan’s grip tightened, and he hissed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m watching those lovely young women,” Dazai replied, sounding rather sleazy to all around him. Really, he didn’t care much for the women at all. Yet watching them fight stirred something close to excitement in his gut. It had been a very long time since he had felt excited about anything. So it was his instinct to cling to that emotion as much as possible.
“Really? You really want to watch women right now?” A’s face twisted into a cruel sneer. “It’s like you don’t even want my help, running off any chance you get. If that’s the case, then fine!” He wrestled his hand back from Dazai’s grasp, turning to make his leave.
Realising he was to be abandoned like this, Dazai cried out. “Wait!”
But it was too late. At that moment when he cried, one of the two female ghosts hit a bystander, and that bystander cried in rage, joining in. Within seconds, the crowd had become a mob, pushing and shouting each other violently.
Dazai couldn’t see A-chan anymore, and frowned, running to escape from the mass of people.
“Hey there!” said a man, as he made to escape. “You’re that brat from earlier!”
It was the man he’d given his soup to, and Dazai pushed him away. “Be thankful towards me! I gave you my scraps, so be grateful!”
Turning, he ran away quickly, footsteps sounding fast behind him as he ran. The man continued to curse and shout at him, but Dazai had practise in running from people he had made angry with him, and easily dashed down an alleyway. He ran three blocks, before finally letting himself stop. His breathing was coming hard and loud, and his head burned with pain.
When he looked up, he couldn’t see the youth who he’d travelled with anywhere. “Shit,” Dazai swore out loud, turning his head and trying to make himself feel steady again. He was unused to the ways of the Ghost City, which was so different from the streets of Yokohama. Because of this, he felt very disoriented.
In this daze, he didn’t notice when a shadow appeared at his back, moving swiftly towards his person.
Suddenly, Dazai felt his arms grabbed. He twisted around, ready to sweep the legs of whatever scum was trying to overtake him, but froze as he saw who it was. Three male ghosts in all black, wearing long coats similar to Dazai’s, smirked at him.
“Dazai Osamu,” spoke the leader. “You better have a good excuse. The boss is very unhappy with you. He didn’t like having to send us to find you.”
Dazai’s eyes grew wide. For the first time since he’d entered the Ghost City, he looked very afraid.
“No way,” spoke Dazai. “Boss never said anything about having contacts in the Ghost City.”
“The Boss has contacts everywhere,” sneered the tallest of the three. He swung his fist, connecting with Dazai’s jaw and knocking him aside. Dazai gagged, a mouthful of blood splattering to the ground as he struggled to get up. A sturdy boot came crashing onto his chest, the sound of ribs cracking filling the air.
Yet before anything more could happen, a shadow appeared in the front of the alley.
“What’s going on here?” A cool voice called out, and the three ghosts holding Dazai looked up. Though they were already very pale, they seemed to grow even more white, shrinking back.
“My lord!” stammered the one who had seemed so assured the moment before, stepping back. “What brings you here?”
“None of your business,” the voice replied, sounding very agitated. “Why are you picking on that kid?”
“He was being disruptive, my lord,” said another one, voice shaky despite standing tall. “We were just putting him in his place, that’s all.”
“You useless sons of bitches,” spat the newcomer. “As if I can’t handle what happens in my Ghost City. Now scram before I devour all of you and make you regret all your miserable wasted lives.”
The men apologised profusely, backing away before they broke off running, leaving Dazai lying on the ground. Instantly, footsteps crept closer, and hands were upon him, rolling him to his back and examining him. It was that ghost youth, A-chan, from before. Yet now he looked much more solemn.
In that moment, it was clear that A-chan was not who he said he was at all. Dazai didn’t know whether to feel vindicated or aggrieved.
“Who are you really?” asked Dazai, coughing out another mouthful of blood.
The boy, A-chan, was changing slightly - his shoulders became slightly broader, his right eye taking on a blue shade. His hair also gained a brighter hue of red, like a candle flame. Before, he’d looked to be a scraggly youth, not of much note. Now, he looked the part of a handsome young man, lips curving into a smile.
“Who do you think I am?” he said, his voice taking on a mellow rasp.
Dazai paused for a long moment, then guessed-
“Are you… God Destroying, Black Sheep?”
“Call me Chuuya,” God Destroying, Black Sheep said, smirking. He reached out, tilting up Dazai’s chin. Dazai’s pupils went wide, and his cheeks took on a gentle flush. It took Dazai a moment to realise that Chuuya was examining his face to see if he had been injured.
“Those men,” said Dazai weakly. “I didn’t do anything to them, they-“
But Chuuya cut him off, shaking his head. “I heard everything. I was coming to find you to make sure you hadn’t been injured in that brawl. I didn’t think you’d manage to create even more problems in that time.”
Dazai laughed weakly, head spinning as he gazed at Chuuya.
“You never were going to kill me, were you?” said Dazai, not sure if he felt annoyed about this. Chuuya shook his head.
“My goal was just to keep an eye on you,” Chuuya said. “You weren’t the usual type we get, so I thought you might be here to cause trouble.”
“And?” Dazai asked him, tilting his head.
Chuuya scooped him up in his arms, his size belying his strength. He was very steady as he moved, not wincing or showing any sign of his strain. “Well, nothing you’ve done so far has proved me wrong.”
He carried Dazai through the alley, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the bustling street. “Hold on tightly,” he commanded, giving Dazai little time before suddenly, they were in the air.
When Dazai gazed at Chuuya again, he could only stare. Upon Dazai’s back, there was a pair of large black wings, smoking. Chuuya’s skin had taken on a reddish glow, waves of evil aura radiating from him.
They lifted above the alleys and roofs of the Ghost City, moving quickly towards a building that looked rather like a temple. When they touched down, the wind whistled around them, blowing greatly in the force of Chuuya’s wings.
Those wings had burst into flames, burning away to nothing, and leaving Dazai coughing on the smoke, fingers gripping tightly onto Chuuya’s shirt. “Some warning would have been nice,” he said, when he had regained some composure to himself.
“I did warn you,” argued Chuuya. He had assumed Dazai would hear his warning to hold on tight, and guess what was to happen. He had forgotten that Dazai must not know much about God Destroying, Black Sheep, or his immense power.
Inside, that temple-like building was lit by hundreds of red candles, warm and flickering. When Dazai looked at them, he saw that while some were lit by cool ghost fire, others looked to be truly flaming.
“Don’t you worry about this place burning down?” said Dazai, thinking it rather careless.
“If that happens, then I’ll get a chance to sit back and enjoy the flames,” Chuuya said, very flippant. He brought Dazai to a room, laying him on a futon, and taking a bottle of healing smoke from the shelf. “Can I touch you?”
“If that’s what you’re into,” Dazai said sleazily, frowning when Chuuya didn’t take the bait.
Reaching out, Chuuya asked. “Where did those little fuckers hurt you?”
Dazai didn’t respond, instead saying- “So you really won’t let me die?”
Chuuya hummed, running a hand down Dazai’s chest, and feeling the cracked ribs. “No. I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dazai said, upset. He winced as Chuuya’s fingers pushed at a very sensitive spot, his teeth gritting together. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”
There was a long moment where Chuuya didn’t speak, instead pouring the healing smoke over Dazai’s wounds, spiritual energy spreading from his fingers. Finally, he spoke, “What if you stayed in the ghost city?”
“What?” Dazai asked, confused. So Chuuya explained, telling him what he had imagined. “You can stay here in the Ghost City, and become a cultivator or a guard if you want. Or if that doesn’t sound appealing, you can have free reign and do as you please while residing here in my manor.”
“How can you be so sure they won’t find me again?” Dazai countered.
Chuuya’s face took on a smirk at the words, clearly enjoying the next part. When he continued, his voice was grand and mocking. “I’m the Supreme Ghost King Arahabaki, the God Destroying, Black Sheep. This Ghost City is my territory. My word is law here. You really think your boss would challenge me?”
Dazai swallowed hard, pupils expanding until he looked very dazed.
“I really can do whatever I’d like? And all you’ll ask of me is to stay alive?” he asked, disbelieving.
Chuuya considered it, before saying. “Well, there is one thing I’d like from you if you’d be willing. But I won’t make you.”
Dazai tilted his head, bandage falling off of his eye, exposing the rest of his angled face. Chuuya looked quite like a God from his angle, wreathed by red candlelight. “And what is that?”
Chuuya leaned down, taking Dazai’s face in his hands. “Would you let me have you?”
Dazai’s mouth opened, then closed, head burning and cheeks very red. Chuuya looked for a moment as if he would back away, but Dazai didn’t give him the chance. Leaning up, he sealed Chuuya’s lips with his, kissing him deeply and soundly.
Chuuya tilted his head, kissing back with the same passion, neither wanting to let go. They only broke apart when Dazai pushed him back, panting. Chuuya let out a huff, then shook his head in annoyance. “I forgot you have to breathe and I don’t. How inconvenient.”
“Do you see now, the benefits that would come with me dying?” said Dazai hopefully. Chuuya shook his head, pushing him back down with a palm.
“Shut up,” he commanded, and Dazai did, feeling Chuuya’s body over his, the Ghost King cold to the touch yet sturdy and gentle, pressing down against Dazai. Their lips crashed together again, even more passionate this time than the last.
Perhaps he could become a demonic cultivator, and serve here, become powerful at the side of his God Destroying, Black Sheep. Dazai found himself increasingly entertained by the idea the more he thought of it.
Then, once that came to he, Dazai knew his next move. For the first time, he saw a future in which he lived, and Mori died. He wondered which flavour would prove itself sweeter - the taste of Chuuya’s lips, or the sweetness of Mori’s blood when it spilled from his throat by Dazai’s sweeping blade.
Maybe he could have both.
After all, this would be his city from now on as well.