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The moon hung high, casting a soft glow onto the streets, almost invisible to the vibrant neon lights that flickered from the bars and shops, painting the night with hues of electric pink and blue.
Yokohama was never truly at rest. The laughter and chatter of teens and young adults flowed through the air, reaching the port, where dockers prepared the next ship about to sail into the night ocean.
Far from the noisy town, a dark and lonely pier stretched into the silent sea. A boy was lying down, gazing at the bright stars in the sky of that warm summer.
It felt like an eternity since he last spoke, as he laid in complete silence. The sand of the beach nearby was starting to become tangled in his hair.
The sound of footsteps broke the stillness, Dazai sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand before glancing over his shoulder. He could only see a young figure with reddish hair and dark clothing.
“I’ve been looking for you, Dazai,” the figure said, voice low, as he walked closer, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the wood.
Dazai didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the ocean, his fingers brushing the sand beside him. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly in discontent.
“Mhm, why?” he muttered, as he dragged a hand through his hair cleaning off the sand. He let out a soft sigh as his peace had been interrupted.
“I had an uneasy feeling,” Chuuya replied, sitting down next to Dazai with a soft thud. He shifted his weight, leaning forward with one knee on his chest. “I would’ve stayed with the others, but…” He trailed off, his foot tapping against the water provoking small waves.
Dazai let out a soft chuckle, he tilted his head slightly toward Chuuya, eyes half-lidded. “A feeling? Chuuya must be going insane. Have you been overworking your little brain?”
Chuuya simply sighed, the corners of his lips twitching as he crossed his arms, his jaw tightening slightly.
They sat together in silence for a short while, Chuuya staring at the stars above, Dazai observing him.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Chuuya asked, not bothering to look away.
“Passing time,” Dazai shrugged, crossing his feet. A lazy smile tugged at his lips. “Nobody was supposed to bother me here.”
He chuckled, quiet, softly fading into the noise of the waves crashing against the pier.
“Well, I figured you’d get here eventually.” Dazai hummed, lowering a hand into the water. His fingertips barely skimmed the surface, sending ripples across the dark sea. A few stray droplets clung to his sleeve, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and bandages.
“You always find me, don’t you, Chuuya?” He smiled, watching the water. “Just like a dog.”
The redhead simply sighed in reply, not even thinking to answer to the other anymore.
“Just shut up,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the star-speckled sea. “Your secret spot is gonna get ruined if you keep running your mouth.”
Dazai hummed, dipping his fingers into the water. He swirled them absentmindedly, watching the ripples spread.
“Did you know whales used to have legs?” he mused, tilting his head.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow, finally looking at the other. “What?”
“Not whales exactly, but their ancestors. Millions of years ago, they walked on land.” Dazai smiled innocently, still playing with the water beneath them.
Chuuya scoffed, shifting his weight as he leaned back on his palms. "And they chose to go back into the ocean?" His voice carried mild disbelief, but there was a flicker of interest in his expression.
Dazai chuckled. “Maybe they got tired of stupid people like you!”
Chuuya shot him a glare, rolling his shoulder before raising a fist. “Keep that up, and I’ll shove ya into the water like your 'millions of years ago' whales!!!”
Dazai giggled at the threat, his body mockingly shivering in exaggerated fear. Then, with a swift flick of his hands, he sent a spray of cold droplets splashing onto Chuuya’s face.
The redhead jolted at the sudden chill, screeching as he wiped his face with his sleeve. “Why you—!” His voice was sharp, dripping with irritation.
Without hesitation, he leaned forward, fingers skimming the water’s surface before scooping up a handful. He shot Dazai an intimidatory glare, his grip tightening as water dripped through his fingers. “You asked for it.”
“Wait—!” Dazai barely got the word out before a splash of cold seawater hit him square in the face, soaking his shirt.
He sputtered, shaking his head like a drenched cat. “Pffft— That's disgusting!” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, groaning.
“I’m gonna catch a cold now. You’re practically killing me!" Dazai said, slightly punching the redhead's shoulder, with a smile stamped on his face.
Chuuya raised an eyebrow, amused. “Isn’t that your dream anyway?”
Dazai gasped, clutching his chest as if truly wounded. “This is worse than drowning! I’m all wet and cold now.” He tried to keep a straight face, but a laugh slipped out.
That was all it took for Chuuya to let out a chuckle before breaking into full laughter, collapsing onto his back on the pier.
Dazai, watching him, couldn’t help but laugh too. The sea lapped at the wood beneath them, the city lights flickering in the distance, but for a moment, there was nothing but the ridiculousness of it all.
Eventually, their laughter faded, replaced by the gentle rhythm of the waves. The air smelled of salt, and the distant hum of the city barely reached the pier. They sat in easy silence, gazing out at the dark expanse of sea and sky.
After what felt like an hour, Chuuya finally spoke. “Is that true?”
Dazai tilted his head back toward him. “What’s true?”
“The thing about whales.” Chuuya was still lying down, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the stars. “Did they really used to walk?”
Dazai blinked at him for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the water. “Mm, yeah.” His voice was softer now, lacking its usual teasing edge. “Millions of years ago, their ancestors had legs. They walked on land before deciding the ocean suited them better.”
Chuuya hummed, his eyes tracing the constellations above. “Weird.”
Dazai glanced at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “Why? Thinking of following their lead?”
Chuuya scoffed. “Tch. If I ever decide to change air, it sure as hell won’t be into the sea.”
Dazai chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “No? You’d probably make a good sea snail. Tiny, reaaallyy tiny slug.” He dragged out his words, holding up his hand and pinching the air to emphasize just how minuscule Chuuya would be.
Chuuya turned his head just enough to shoot him a glare. “And you’d be the kind of whale that gets stuck on the beach.”
Dazai gasped dramatically. “How cruel. You wouldn’t save me?”
“Not a chance.”
Dazai only smiled, letting the lull of the waves fill the silence between them again. “Still, kinda odd, isn’t it?”
Chuuya furrowed his eyebrows. “What is?”
Dazai looked down into the water, watching the ripples spread. “Choosing the sea. To have the possibility to be a land animal, but instead evolving in the water despite needing air.”
Chuuya stared at him for a long moment before exhaling. He looked back up at the sky, watching as a shooting star disappeared into the dark.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess it is.”
Dazai hummed. “Wanna know what’s weirder?”
Chuuya sighed, tilting his head slightly. “Please, enlighten me.”
“They still have some of the bones from their old legs. Tiny, useless little things hidden inside them.” Dazai wiggled his fingers as if mimicking something shrinking away. “Which means, in theory, they could evolve back into land animals.”
Chuuya raised a brow. “And they don’t because…?”
“DNA? Instincts? Who knows, maybe they’re just too big.” Dazai shrugged, watching the water. “But now they can’t live without it.”
Chuuya glanced at him. “Huh?”
“The ocean. Whales might’ve had legs once, but now? They need the sea to survive. Take them out of it, and they’d die.”
Chuuya frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Yeah, well, that’s how evolution works. You adapt to something long enough, and suddenly, you can’t live without it.”
Dazai hummed. “Kinda like how some animals need a group, don’t you think?”
Chuuya scoffed, sitting up in amusement. “You comparing whales to dogs now?”
Dazai smiled. “Well, they are social creatures. Big, lumbering things that travel in groups, rely on each other, sing for each other, mourn when one of them dies…” He glanced at Chuuya, eyes glinting. “Sound familiar?”
Chuuya clicked his tongue. “If you’re about to say something about the Mafia—”
“Not the Mafia.” Dazai sighed, bringing his knees to his chest, eyes drifting toward the stars. “People. Animals in general. They need a group to rely on. You do too. Humans are social creatures.”
Chuuya tensed for just a second before rolling his eyes. “They? You talk like you’re not included.”
Dazai chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t the one spending my night with a group of people before coming here.”
Chuuya didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting to the water below. The waves lapped quietly against the pier, filling the silence between them.
“Everyone needs a group,” he muttered softly.
Dazai raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Chuuya exhaled. “All people need someone. If they don’t, it’s like a whale fighting its instincts—leaving the water too soon, only to suffer a slow, painful end.” His voice had lost its usual sharpness.
Dazai studied him for a moment. “I guess not everybody follows their instincts.”
“No, that’s stupid.” Chuuya’s tone was firm. “It’s in your blood, in your DNA. You said it yourself—whales and people share a lot of similarities, and that includes needing a group. It’s part of everyone, just like the ability to love and care. That’s what makes people alive.”
“You make it sound stupid.”
“You are stupid.” Chuuya scoffed, then leaned back on his palms, gaze drifting toward the waves. “People need people like whales need the sea. Doing something weird for us—choosing water over land. But they followed their instincts.”
He exhaled, tilting his head slightly. “You should try that sometime.”
It was left unspoken—the words lingering in the air between them. Your instincts are telling you to stay here with someone.
Dazai remained silent for a moment, resting his cheek on his knees as he watched Chuuya. Then, with a soft smile, he murmured, “You sure seem to know a lot about human instincts.”
“I’m just saying what anyone else would.” Chuuya sighed, standing up and brushing off his pants. As he did, he gave Dazai’s shoulder a light pat. “You’re not some kind of broken human, you’re just lonely.”
He stretched, rolling his shoulders after sitting on the hard wood for so long. “It’s not so bad, following your instincts. In the end, I’ve never seen a whale cry.”
Dazai let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve never seen a whale at all.”
Chuuya clicked his tongue, letting out an annoyed sound before starting down the pier at an unhurried pace. He didn’t look back, but he walked slow enough for Dazai to catch up.
Dazai stayed behind for a moment, staring out at the dark ocean. The waves crashed, the wind played with his now-dry hair, and for the first time in a while, he simply… listened.
His fingers slipped into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of pills. He turned it over in his hand, the pills rattling softly.
“A bad feeling.”
Chuuya had called it that. A gut instinct, like something pulling at him, like something guiding him.
Like a song—that only one could hear.
Dazai chuckled under his breath before tucking the bottle away.
Then, with a final glance at the sea, he turned on his heel and followed Chuuya back home.
Perhaps that was their only difference—whales kept singing for as long as they were capable. But Dazai had always tried to cut his song before it could fully play, attempting to grasp the silence between each note, each breath, each stop.
Yet tonight, someone else was singing beside him, filling in the spaces, carrying the melody forward.
And for now, that was enough.
For the song to continue.
For him to keep living.