Chapter Text
The rain battered on the canopies of shops overhead, the fog obscuring the view down the street. The beams of light from the lamp posts seemed fuzzy in the mists of rain.
His cane clicked on the pavements, a repetitive noise to mark every other step that he took.
The older man knew he looked slightly strange. He attracted eyes, dressed so formally, carrying a cane for fashion rather than balance or mobility, and sporting multicoloured hair that he couldn’t explain how occurred naturally with anything more than a knowing look.
However, in darkness hours such as these, not many people dared walk the streets.
He didn’t blame them. The world was full of powers recognised and weaponised. If he was one of the many who had no understanding of how to use them, he wouldn’t wander so brazenly.
Yet, even as the rain began to pick up, his hat and shoulders remained dry.
Magic buzzed in the air around him. A street lamp flickered as he passed a darkened alleyway.
Natsume stopped, turning slightly to look back at the light that had spoken to him. He watched closely, but the light remained steady. Perhaps, it was merely a faulty light.
As he turned back in the direction he had been walking, it flickered again. This time he turned to it fully, a small smile pulling at his lips. Something was making the light flicker. That was certain.
He stepped backwards, walking away from the light.
As he did so, it flickered and dimmed, until it went out completely.
Of course. The light didn’t work in the first place.
A stranger was walking in his direction, and Natsume watched as once again the light came on, bright and unfaltering as the man walking passed the alleyway, before it began to flicker and eventually, it died out.
How interesting.
He approached the lamp again, watching as it lit up. He could practically taste the magic coming from it. As he stopped below it, it grew even brighter, the light cutting through the fog enough to even light up the entrance to the alleyway just before the lamp post.
Natsume found his attention drawn to it, and he approached the entrance to the alleyway, looking down the uneven cobbled path.
It was dark and dreary, the rain puddling between the stones. Large store bins lined each side of the alley, and the doorways of service entrances seemed to catch the shadows in an ominous manner. The smell of rotting food and damp lingered in the air, as he walked into the darkness.
There was clearly something that wanted him to be here. The presence seemed far from malicious. Desperate, if anything.
It appeared to be a dead-end, he found as he reached the bottom of the street, turning to frown at the light coming from the entrance. It was flickering again, in a rhythmic manner that seemed akin to a heartbeat. The air crackled with power, but not the kind of power he was familiar with. Not dark, not intentional.
No, this was scared. This was hope and fear mingling to make a potent mix of magical sources. Hope, lighting the way. Fear, making the light flicker in time with an increasing heart rate. The closer Natsume got to the entrance of the alley again, the faster it got.
He stopped just before a large bin covering a doorway, and the light popped. The darkness swallowed him completely almost immediately. It was like being submerged in mud, and he knew this darkness wasn’t natural.
He drew himself taller, and, barely thinking about it, summoned fire to dance across his fingertips. He lifted his hand, the fire letting out more light than it should have, allowing him to survey his surroundings. Back in the corner of the alley, where the shadows were the thickest, he could see figures shifting in the places the light of his fire couldn’t permeate.
That was not good. And it was certainly not good for whoever was hiding in the doorway behind the bin.
He stuck his cane in the ground, wedging it in enough to stand on its own, and split his fire in two, leaving it burning around the gilded handle of the cane. He turned, knowing he did not have much time. He approached the gap between the bin and the wall, kneeling down and lighting up the alcove the doorway and bin created.
It felt like wading through a marshland as he carefully moved forward.
There, curled up in the corner, her eyes closed tightly, was a young teenager, face dirty and shaking as she desperately tried to pretend that she wasn’t there, as if it would protect her.
Natsume was no stranger to homeless children, but this was new. Subconsciously, this child was performing complicated magic to try and keep him away. Or bring him in, as he had previously assumed.
What made this situation dire, aside from the clearly powerful magic this kid was harnessing with likely little training, was the creatures slowly fighting to emerge from the shadows. That magic felt very different from that belonging to the child before him.
“Child, this place is not safe.”
A dark brown eye squinted at him, the other hidden under a layer of bandages. It observed him warily, a calculating edge to the gaze.
“You’re holding a fire.” She made an effort to make her voice sound low, and shuffled back. Natsume may have found the observation amusing if he couldn’t feel the shadows creeping closer.
“You need to leave this place. How many nights have you hidden here?”
“Three.”
Natsume could tell the child was surprised by how easily she had offered up the information. He didn’t pay it any attention, but instead frowned.
“That is far too long. The magic in you is strong, it hums in the air. You’ve been in one place long enough that bad forces have found you. Do you understand?”
“I’m ready to die. Just go.”
That was one response Natsume had not been prepared for. He hadn’t quite had a student so… resigned before. This would be a challenge.
Instead of arguing, he stood straight again, and retrieved his cane from where he had wedged it in the stones. He would simply have to protect the stubborn child instead of helping her run. He cast a glance back at the kid who was watching him like a hawk. He could recall a student who had regarded him with the same kind of look.
This was a child he could not allow to fall so young.
As the shadow creatures drew closer, Natsume readied himself for a long morning. Four hours remained until sunrise.
When the light began colouring the sky, the final beast eased back into the shadow. He let out a breath, allowing himself a moment as he lowered his cane. He turned, the kid who had fallen asleep a few hours before awake again, and staring at him. The charms the kid had over the alcove she had created were rudimentary, and glittered in the growing light, but had clearly done enough in the way of making it quiet and warm enough to sleep despite everything else happening in the background through the early morning.
Cautiously, like a scared animal, the kid slipped out from her hiding place. The charms popped like bubbles as she passed through. Natsume stayed still as she approached, and then let her hide slightly behind him.
“Where are we going?” she asked, sounding a little guilty, like she felt bad for making him protect her all night only to follow him in the morning anyway.
Natsume didn’t indicate to her whether it had bothered him or not.
“Somewhere you will be safe. Come with me. I will have Ranpo meet us with some food.” He began walking, satisfied when he was followed closely. “Hopefully the inclusion of food will encourage him to wake this early.”
He glanced at the young girl following him, already trying to piece together what she had been doing on the street so late, with such unharnessed power.
“How old are you, child, and what’s your name?” he asked, watching the debate take place in her head as she considered answering honestly.
“I’m fourteen,” she muttered. “I picked Osamu Dazai.”
Natsume raised an eyebrow. “You chose your name?”
Dazai nodded.
A young man then, it seemed.
“Very well then. A name is only as good as the purpose it serves its owner.” His cane clicked on the street with every other step he took, and he could feel the way Dazai was trying to figure him out.
“...You were using that to do magic,” he said, pointing at the stick. “How?”
Natsume simply continued walking.
“You will learn soon, I have no doubt.”
Dazai simply looked at him with a slightly awe-struck expression, before falling quiet and following alongside him.
—
Dazai lay stretched out over Chuuya’s bed, eyes half-closed and breathing even and deep. He was pretty much asleep, and would have very much liked to be, but Chuuya clinking cups in the kitchen was enough to keep him awake, if only for the promise of a nice warm drink.
He hated to admit it, but the cat-like instincts he’d gained over the years did extend to catnip. A catnip infused tea did wonders for calming him down. He opened his eyes a little more, rolling onto his stomach.
The lamp cast a soft but warm light across the room, and the hallway light wasn’t on, but the kitchen one was, and he was at the perfect angle to occasionally see Chuuya’s back as he moved about the room.
He watched as Chuuya reached into a cupboard, pulling out a familiar box.
Good. He was getting his catnip tea.
He yawned. It had been a long day. It had been a long month, really. Two months? It had been a long time. And it felt longer than it had been.
He couldn’t pinpoint the day he had finally been able to turn human again. Chuuya would have been able to tell him, probably, but he didn’t want to ask. If he admitted how little he remembered from that time, it would only make Chuuya worry.
Chuuya liked to pretend he didn’t worry, but Dazai could pick out the little furrow between his eyebrows he got, and the way that his anger would change ever so slightly. The way his frustration sounded was a major tell as to how he was actually feeling.
It was one thing that Dazai missed about being a cat all the time. Chuuya wasn’t quite as open as he had been before. Not necessarily any harder to read, just… Now that he knew Dazai could understand him, he seemed to not want to burden him with any of the issues he used to tell him about.
He hoped that it wouldn’t last too long.
In many ways, Chuuya had become much more interesting to hang around since he had become human again, however. He figured the payoff was worth it.
Interesting wasn’t quite the right word, he had been interesting before too, but Dazai just felt comfortable around him in a way he hadn’t around anyone before. After a mere night of sleeping separately after Dazai shifted back to his human form they had both given up, having slept less than peacefully. Dazai didn’t have a bed of his own, he just had Chuuya’s.
He liked it, being able to just share a bed with somebody, and sleep next to a warm body. He liked having a light on at night. He liked having something solid and warm and real next to him, something and someone safe. Chuuya was disgustingly safe. He had to be thankful for it, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have been able to change back to his body for a long time. Maybe he would have died on the streets again.
Going back to live with his parents after leaving Natsume had been a stupid decision, he should have known he’d be kicked out faster than he could get through a vial of T.
But it didn’t matter. He was warm again now. And he couldn’t see his ribs as prominently as he could before. That had shocked Chuuya the first time that he’d taken his shirt off around him. Apparently the amount of food he had been eating as a cat had done nothing for the previous malnutrition. Chuuya liked cooking though, so there was never a shortage of food.
God, he had it good.
Chuuya slipped back into the room, carrying two steaming cups of tea.
“Move it,” Chuuya demanded as he put the cups down, and Dazai groaned but did as he was asked, shifting and allowing space for Chuuya to sit down. He let Chuuya drag him with surprising strength to lay his head in his lap, closing his eyes as he felt Chuuya’s fingers begin to weave through his hair.
He missed being able to purr properly.
Well, he could always shift and then he’d be able to… But he was quite comfortable and Chuuya had tea for him. His life was so full of tough choices.
“Are you feeling better?” Chuuya asked, and Dazai had to take a moment to remember that he had actually been in quite an awful mood earlier. That was why he had the tea, that was why he was hiding in Chuuya’s room instead of instigating trouble elsewhere.
“I was actually just being incredibly dramatic earlier, and I never felt bad at all,” Dazai responded dismissively. “I don’t know what you mean.”
There were some things he couldn’t tell Chuuya yet. Chuuya didn’t need to know why Dazai had made a point of coming with him sometimes when he worked late shifts. He didn’t need to know why, even as a cat, Dazai had known that some nights Chuuya shouldn’t leave the flat alone.
There were things that lurked in the darkness, and those things seemed to be getting more persistent.
“I forgot to turn off the kitchen light,” Chuuya sighed, moving to get up.
Dazai grabbed his arm to make him sit down again, feeling the slightest tug in his chest as the light went out.
“It’s fine. I did it.”
Chuuya looked at Dazai oddly for a moment, before sighing again.
“Sometimes I forget you can do stuff like that. It’s freaky you know? I can taste the difference when you’ve charmed things. It makes it sweeter.”
Dazai opened his eyes again to watch Chuuya’s expression, trying to determine what he was thinking.
“Are you talking about the coffee machines at the cafe?” Dazai asked curiously.
“Yeah. They’re quieter when you’re working.”
Dazai hummed. He thought that he had been more discreet with that one.
“I don’t like the sound of them,” he admitted. “They’re too loud, when they’re going I can’t think.”
“I never said it was a bad thing,” Chuuya said, sounding mildly annoyed by Dazai jumping to the conclusion he was upset about it. “I agree, they’re overwhelming. Especially during a rush. It’s just weird. If you had asked me a few months ago if magic was real I would have laughed at you, but you’re now walking proof of the fact that it is.”
Dazai blinked at Chuuya, before looking away.
“When I was a kid, I didn’t think magic was real either. And then I thought I was Matilda. And then I began figuring it out.”
“How did you find out you could do magic anyway?” Chuuya asked, suddenly curious. “You haven’t told me. I guess I haven’t asked either.”
Dazai groaned, and he shifted to sit up, and shrugged.
“It’s just… intention. Some people have different ways of doing it. But it’s like… the magic just sits in the air, and it feeds on the source you give it. When you put intention behind the emotion you feed the air, it turns into action. It turns into magic.”
“I had a lot of emotion, and when magic just started happening, I started being more intentional about it. I got pretty good at it, pretty fast.”
Chuuya seemed to think about that for a moment.
“If the magic is already in the air, that implies that anyone could learn how to do it,” he said.
Dazai gave him a thoughtful look.
“I guess. I never quite thought of it that way. It wasn’t something I chose, it was something that just happened to me.” He studied Chuuya, clearly thinking hard. “What would your source be…” He hummed. “Loyalty, maybe?”
Chuuya got lost very quickly.
“Source? I thought you just needed emotion?”
Dazai nodded.
“I mean, technically. But for powerful and consistent magic, you need an emotional source. Whatever emotion you experience the most, or is the strongest in you, becomes your emotional source. Then you draw on it, apply intention, and the energy in the air does the rest.” He paused. “That’s a good way of thinking about it. It might not be magic as much as focused energy manipulation. In ways energy probably shouldn’t be capable of being manipulated.”
“What if you’re not feeling that emotion?” Chuuya asked, frowning. “Then you just can’t do it.”
“Well, if it’s your strongest emotion, it kind of… gathers? Like you create a reservoir of emotion, and when you’re not experiencing your source emotion it draws from the reservoir until it’s empty. Then you just can’t do magic. Or can’t do more than simple charms, drawing from other emotions. Negative emotions have less properties for energy manipulation than positive ones do, but can be powerful as well. Typically, if your energy source drains, you begin relying on negative emotion.” Dazai shifted slightly uncomfortably. “...At least I do. I was never advised to.”
Chuuya nodded along, trying to understand. He got the gist of it. But it was confusing.
“What does this have to do with being able to shapeshift into a cat?” he asked after a moment.
Dazai grinned.
“It’s just fun.” He paused, taking a moment before continuing with a more serious expression. “...And it was safer. It’s a safety measure. The man who taught me most of what I actually know could shapeshift into a cat, and he taught me how. Most people will have something to protect them. And that’s one of mine.”
“Do you still use your source emotion for that?” Chuuya asked curiously. When Dazai nodded, he continued. “What’s your source emotion? It must be pretty strong.”
Dazai blinked, his cheeks going slightly pink. That was a question, certainly. Most people he knew who actually knew about this would never ask what your source emotion was unless they needed to know. But Chuuya wasn’t one for subtlety. And didn’t know how personal a question that was.
He found himself answering anyway.
“Hope.”
Chuuya furrowed his eyebrows, considering him carefully. Dazai understood why. His source emotion being hope? Why, he could hear the disbelief already. Of all the feelings that the arrogant, egotistical, asshole who probably lacked any sense of humanity could feel the strongest, it was hope?
“I guess that makes sense.” Chuuya shrugged. “I don’t know what mine would be.”
Dazai, taken aback by the simple acceptance, had to force a smile onto his face.
“Anger, clearly. You’re so full of it. You ooze anger like something slimy oozes slime,” he teased.
Chuuya scowled at him, and shoved him. Dazai felt the tug at the feelings in his chest as he prevented himself from falling, and instead flopped back down to lay on the bed again.
It was quiet for a moment, before Chuuya spoke.
“If your shapeshifting is fuelled by magic, and magic fuelled by your source emotion, how come you weren’t able to become human again for so long?” he asked, his tone careful, like he didn’t want to poke into something he shouldn’t.
Dazai stayed silent. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about what he had originally told Chuuya. He didn’t have enough energy for it. That had been one way of putting it, he supposed. He swallowed, and let a heavy sigh out before answering.
“I ran out of hope.”
—
Chuuya watched the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The minutes went by, and there was no sign of Dazai. It was late, and the snow outside was persistent. The night seemed darker than usual. Dazai was supposed to finish work an hour ago.
Making a decision, Chuuya began pulling on layers, making his way to the door and locking it after he left. He regretted leaving the warmth of the building, but trudged through the snow anyway.
The world was muffled and his ears and nose were bitingly cold, but he remained stubborn. He walked to the coffee shop, finding his heart in the bottom of his chest as it was already locked up. Dazai had finished his shift, and for some reason, just hadn’t come home yet.
He turned around, heading back the way he came. There was almost no way he could have missed Dazai while walking over. Unless Dazai had shapeshifted and gone home that way? But that should have meant he got home quicker.
He tried not to think about it. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, but when he looked over his shoulder, nobody was there. God, he was sure it never used to feel this heavy when he was out at night. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been out this late on his own for a while. Dazai had always followed him, ever since he began leaving the window open and he had followed him to work that one time.
Something in his gut told him to walk as far away from the alleyways as he could.
As he passed, however, he heard a familiar voice.
“Chuuya?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, immediately turning to the sound, stepping closer.
“Dazai? Where the hell have you been?!” he immediately snapped, looking for Dazai in the darkness. It shifted.
“Waiting for you.” The response was warped and garbled, and a second later the shadows lunged at Chuuya.
He cried out in surprise, stumbling backwards as the streetlamps popped and went out, allowing the creature to reach further out into the street.
From the same alleyway immediately came another, smaller figure, pelting towards him at full speed. Chuuya flinched, unable to do anything as in the blink of an eye the shadow figure became a black cat, and then a familiar man, melding back into his human form in front of Chuuya.
A burst of flame came from Dazai’s palm, and he threw it at the creature, lighting the air with red and yellow flames. The shadow creature hissed, a grotesque menagerie of facial features pieced together to create an illusion of a face illuminated in the mist of what might have been a body.
The fire was enough to send the creature back, but as the flames were cast from Dazai’s hand into the air, Dazai himself crumpled and went down like a sack of flour, collapsing with no warning.
Chuuya lunged forward to catch him before he hit the ground, falling to his knees and supporting Dazai’s limp and seemingly lifeless body. He panted, brain reeling as he tried to catch up with what was going on. Just the other day he had only just began to understand what magic was and now–
The shadow creature was slowly easing forwards again. Dazai’s magic had made the street lamps turn on again, but now they fizzled and flickered as it got closer. Chuuya’s wide eyes couldn’t make out the same features he could before, but he could feel the creature looking at him, or maybe Dazai, and thinking about the meal it would have.
In Dazai’s voice it said, “Two with a source to draw from? The lack of us is feeding well tonight. Our donor is most generous.” It was mocking, telling Chuuya you will die here.
Chuuya could do nothing but watch as it got closer. His heart pounded in his chest, and Dazai was completely unconscious in his arms. He wasn’t able to save him now.
The lamps on the street finally gave out again, and Dazai still didn’t stir. Chuuya understood why Dazai came with him at night now.
He could do nothing but close his eyes, pulling Dazai’s limp body closer, holding him tighter. He was not ready to die yet. Not with Dazai here too.
His chest hurt. It burned. It was like his heart was beating out of control, like something was pulling from inside his ribcage and begging to be let out. The only way Chuuya could think to let it out was to scream.
And so he tried. And nothing happened.
Then there was light.