Chapter Text
Fyodor and Dazai had always been a peculiar pair of ‘friends’. There was no exact word to encapsulate their strange relationship. However, one thing was for certain: they never argued seriously nor fought immaturely. On the surface. Instead of engaging in bouts of screaming, emotional distress, and anger, there was a collective silence.
In the depths of a tenebrous ‘room’, a lone table stood in the corner. One would believe it abandoned until the darkness began to move on its own accord. Why those were not objects, but people!
“C3,” called one of the figures, moving two chess pieces at once.
“D5!” exclaimed the other, not-so-secretly moving three pieces.
“What was that? You cannot do that,” pointed out the shabby figure, having adapted to the room’s lighting. “I’m not playing with you any longer."
“Why not?” asked the other, who was revealed to be Dazai from his distinctive tone of voice. “We’ve just begun. Why quit now?”
“You are not playing honestly, Dazai,” Fyodor huffed, his voice taking on an unusually tense tone. It was then that a fourth chessman materialised.
“And from where has this fourth piece come from?”
“What fourth piece?”
“The one standing between the queens?”
“No, that’s your piece. I counted all of the moves so far.”
“Are you accusing me of cheating, Dazai?”
Fyodor stood up from his wooden box seating, hovering over the table. His eyes glanced down at Dazai as he awaited his answer.
“No,” Dazai answered simply, slumping over his crossed arms atop the decrepit table. The unfortunate table fell victim as it was promptly flipped over by Fyodor, who kicked its feeble legs; a typical behaviour displayed whenever he felt particularly disgusted or bothered by a person or object.
A radio? Kicked. Sigma? Kicked.
Dazai remained still with his legs over his head as he gazed up at Fyodor. A creak of the door was heard.
Opening the door to his closet, Atsushi nearly jumped backwards at the scene.
“Dazai? Fyodor!?”
In the corner of his abnormally large closet were his two advisers with the smallest table he had ever gazed upon with an equally small chessboard with miniature chessmen smaller than a thumb. Both were posed elegantly in their corresponding positions, with Fyodor crossing one leg over the other with a pondering expression whilst Dazai leaned forward in his seat with a twinkle in his eye. A deafening silence followed as Atsushi silently contemplated kicking them out or not. No. He was done with being the host of a chess game in his own closet that he never agreed to host! The illegal playing of chess would stop. At once!
“Go play chess outside and leave my closet alone!” He blurted out. Their lack of response sent him scrambling to find a way to lighten his words. What if they didn’t want to move? What if they kept on playing chess inside of his closet forever? What if they continued meeting up undisclosed in his closet? What could he do? What if—
“Okay,” Dazai answered, standing up with the table in hand. The table was foldable the entire time! With both chairs in Dazai’s right and the table in his left, Fyodor quietly picked up the chessboard, mysteriously hiding it inside his coat. How curious, certainly the coat was not equipped with multiple bags with wide enough space? Atsushi was left in shock as Fyodor promptly shoved the miniature chessmen inside of the same coat. How spacious his coat was!
It was then that Fyodor proceeded to shove Dazai, who held the chairs and table, into his coat. A loud yelp was heard as the man was stuffed inside. In seconds, the man had disappeared. Curiously enough, Fyodor’s coat was not Dazai-shaped.
Fyodor quickly skedaddled as he nearly fell over from carrying too much on his person, rushing out the closet door with belongings (and Dazai) stuffed inside his coat. A sigh left Atsushi as he turned around. Gone they were. How quickly they had departed, they may very well have never been there!