Chapter Text
「 love stronger than iron 」
❝there are many things he can give up for this love, for this love is stronger than iron❞
❀ first fall ❀
Holding hands while exploring the sunflower fields behind their house of patched-up floorboards and uneven roof covers is how they spend the summer and the spring and the fall and the winter. Seasons pass by but the two of them are together despite it all, through the buzz of cicadas, the storm of cherry blossoms, the carpet of yellowed leaves, the flood of snowflakes.
In the rural town of Kirisaki, days flow into the next without any sense of urgency.
“Yoko-obaasan wants help in gathering logs tomorrow,” Chuuya says while kicking him lightly in the stomach, his toes slightly browned by his barefooted adventures in attempting to capture fireflies by the fields.
“Ahh, it’s too hot for that, you should go, Chuuya~”
Chuuya’s kicks return twice, with more pressure than before. It’s nothing more than an affectionate massage though - there’s hardly any harm in letting him vent out his annoyance. “You just said earlier this morning that it’s too cold!”
It really is adorable to hear Chuuya whine, especially if it’s end up revealing that he really does pay attention to every little thing that he says.
“Then, it’s too cold for that, so you should go instead, Chuuya~”
“I’m going even without you asking.” The other flops to the floor beside him, the reddish-brown head resting right above his heart. “I want you to come with me.”
“You’re always so needy~” He teases Chuuya, his left hand already poised by the other’s head to keep him nestled close, already anticipating the indignant reaction that will cause the other to pull away. “But you’re so cute that way, so I don’t mind!”
“I’m not cute,” Chuuya protests cutely, the tips of his ears turning as red as the peonies that bloomed at Maiko-obaasan’s garden last spring. “And I’m not needy, damn it.”
“Sure you aren’t,” he allows with a chuckle, just as Chuuya pokes him sharply on his stomach for that comment.
“Yoko-obaasan expects us to be ready by sunrise.”
“Why do you always volunteer me for this stuff,” he asks without any real heat or desire to get an answer.
Well, he already knows the answer. Spending their entire life with each other, abandoned by their families and stowed away in some far-off town away from civilization, with only each other to accompany each other... There’s no way that he can’t read Chuuya right.
“...Just shut up and let me sleep.”
Holding each other close while the autumn evening envelops the sleepy town in a haze, inside this patchwork house of bare necessities and childish trinkets of their time melting into a steady stream of being together, is how they spend the summer and the spring and the fall and the winter.
Seasons pass by but the two of them are together despite it all - through the unwelcome invasion of a black mist dripping with ill intent, the sudden explosion of a wildfire wiping out all the fields and flowers, the uninvited intrusion of an evil organization destroying everything in sight, the quick unraveling of a life that they have both cultivated for themselves.
In the destroyed town of Kirisaki, peaceful days are severed without care for the lives of the people living in it.
“W-W-W-What’s happening,” Chuuya whispers tearfully into his neck, the other’s shaking frame tucked neatly inside the cradle of his arms.
Black soot covers his arms and face, but that’s a small price to pay for both of their lives still intact despite the indiscriminate bombing that rained down on the entire area. He adjusts his grip so that he doesn’t get any of the charcoal-black stains on Chuuya’s hair colored brilliant red from the reflection of the flames licking into the ground around them.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he promises to the other’s ears, shaken from the sudden disappearance of their peaceful life, but knowing that there’s no way he’ll allow this to taint Chuuya. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“W-We don’t know that,” Chuuya responds with a sniffle, burrowing closer.
Seeing the confident Chuuya curl himself up into a ball, shrinking away from the rest of the world, relying upon him to make things go back to the way they used to be, makes his heart pound faster than he can fathom why.
“I know it.” He’s always been scolded by Chuuya that he never thinks about his words before he says anything. He’s always been chided by the grannies the next street over that he’s always been living with his head in the clouds, unknowingly releasing empty words that cannot come true. “I promise, we’ll be okay. We’ll continue living, Chuuya.”
Holding hands while they’re experiencing any burst of emotions is the way they manage to control each other’s powers from going wild - because even though they’re nestled in a town far-removed from modern civilization, they’re not unaffected by the phenomenon of gaining an Ability.
Their summer, spring, fall and winter pass by with them crawling out of their newly-created hell, crossing rivers, leveling mountains, burning a path to the group that took everything away from them.
It’s not due to some misguided sense of justice.
He just thinks that he can’t have Chuuya live in the same world that has that group that made him curl in weakened gasps, that made him shrink into himself, that made him forget his confidence and pride, that made him seek someone weaker for help.
“We’ll eliminate the enemy and then we can return home.”
That’s his promise, holding onto Chuuya’s trembling, black-stained hands.
Holding hands for the past eighteen years they’ve known each other is how they’ve managed to rein in the overwhelming destruction caused by the curse-like Ability that has been bestowed upon Chuuya.
Now, seconds pass by as they look at each other, Chuuya’s silent trust heavy and warm in his heart as they wordlessly start to let go of each other’s hands, so they can eliminate this evil organization that threatens the peace of their world.
There’s no need for goodbye or any other words between them because everything will be fine.
He promised.
In the heart of Yokohama, the headquarters of the nebulous organization headed by an equally dark Boss, blood flows like an onslaught of heavy summer rain.
Holding hands—
“C-C-Chuuya,” he gasps out as two upstart teenagers like them are crushed underfoot by the heavier firepower of their enemy.
Chuuya’s Ability that makes everything bow down to him - the trees, the buildings, the clouds, the stars, his heart - rages on indiscriminately, painting everything a sick black.
Chuuya’s Ability is strong but there’s a stronger evil in this world, right before their eyes.
Chuuya’s strong, but he’s only human, both of them are.
“Not bad,” the force of evil says to them, their bodies slumped on the ground as the rest of Yokohama is splintered into countless pieces.
Chuuya’s human body, likewise, is broken into countless pieces, consumed by his own power that pales in comparison still to their enemy.
“But not good enough.”
He’s left behind with what remains of Chuuya - pale cheeks, russet hair, black fingertips.
In the remains of Yokohama, Dazai Osamu promises to return things to how it used to be.
❀ second winter ❀
Holding hands while doing household chores and completing assigned missions first earns them strange looks coupled with gagging noises, but the looks and noises disappear pretty quickly once Chuuya starts wiping the floor and starts wiping the floor with the goons they’re hired to kill.
Seasons pass by but the two of them are together despite it all, through the raging snowstorm outside their one-person studio apartment, the blooming of the cactus that Chuuya bought on a whim, the sweat on their backs as they crawl alongside tunnels so they can escape the eyes of the patrolling police, the steady heartbeat on Dazai’s chest as they continue to be incomparably close to one another.
In the underbelly of the city of Moscow, days flow into the next without any sense of urgency.
“If you keep on sticking to me, I’ll stick this fork to your eyes,” Chuuya warns him with a click of his tongue, today’s stolen batch of vodka already starting to disappear into his stomach.
He knows how Chuuya gets whenever you bring him within range of any alcoholic drink, which is why he’s keeping a close eye on the other’s alcohol consumption. He’s very entertained whenever Chuuya gets drunk - not only because the other ends up crying and clinging to him not even five minutes into his intoxication - but he does want to eat dinner first and Chuuya’s cooking is the only thing he wants to eat.
“I might go blind if you do that!”
“That’s the point.”
“If I’m blind then I can’t see Chuuya!”
“Again, that’s the point.”
“That’s terrible!” He gasps out, ducking out of the way when Chuuya does swipe at the air with the serving fork.
The smell and heat of the steamed potatoes fill the air, but the only thing he can sense is the other’s body heat, the other’s not-that-hidden amused smirk, the other’s new perfume pilfered from the mansion they raided last week.
“I can’t even see you most of the time, since you’re so sho—”
“Finish that sentence and you’ll have potatoes as replacement eyes.”
“Don’t be like that, Chuuya~” He returns to draping himself over the other, resting his chin on the other’s shoulders, his nose right behind the other’s ear. When he speaks, he ends up kissing the reddening earlobe. It’s nice and warm, despite the snowstorm outside. “There are people who prefer midgets, you know.”
“I’m not a goddamn midget, you’re just too fucking tall.” Chuuya’s Japanese isn’t very good to begin with, but it sounds downright comical with the curses sprinkled in English. The other’s ability to learn languages easily is part of what makes them very valuable to their employers - there isn’t a lot of piss-poor run-of-the-mill hired killers in the market who have versatile communication skills, so they get a lot of referrals.
Going outside Japan is a decision that he hasn’t regretted one whit - because there’s a heavy sense of foreboding in that country. Like something bad’s about to happen and he can’t do anything about it.
Life here isn’t the best - living like street rats with an added security of a roof atop their heads, living by stealing others’ lives, living with their heads bowed low so they can avoid attracting attention to themselves. But it’s still living, living day by day practically attached to each other to keep each other afloat this turbulent ocean of their life.
Holding hands while eating together a simple meal made exquisite by the other’s innate talent when it comes to cooking and seasoning food, is one of the things that he doesn’t really think too much about, with it being a daily occurrence unaffected by the passage of time outside their small world.
Seasons pass by but the two of them are together despite it all - through the sudden break of their windows, the rapid flood of bullets to the furniture they have collected to make up their humble abode, the lightning-like ambush of some group that has their eyes on two young adults making their name across Russian mafiya groups, the quick destruction of the peaceful routine that makes up their contentment.
In the underbelly of the city of Moscow, peaceful days break like smashed-up matroyshka dolls.
“What the fuck’s happening,” Chuuya coughs a little from the tear-gas that their unwelcome guests left as a visiting gift. His eyes are teary-eyed, sapphire welling with unshed tears and appearing like deep pools of water. He wishes he can stare a little more, but the fork is still within grabbing reach and he might end up being blind for real.
“Seems like someone’s out to kill us, huh.”
“That’s obvious, stupid.”
The other’s French slurs a little bit when he’s mad, so he immediately grabs the other’s waist, clinging to the small but proud frame. Chuuya’s Ability is a sight to behold but he thinks that there’s still some things that they can salvage - the charming cactus garden by the windowsill, the beautiful calligraphy hanging by the bookcase, the tattered book of poems that Chuuya thinks he isn’t aware about - so there’s no point in destroying everything here.
“We’ll kill them and then find a new house.” He proposes the plan, eager to make their intruders pay with the blood of their families and their friends and their neighbors and their entire bloodline. He’s been looking forward to eating Chuuya’s cooking the whole day and they dare interrupt their dinner. Retribution is sorely needed.
“We’ll find a new house first,” Chuuya retorts with gritted teeth, his narrow shoulders shaking from the snowfall - oh yes, it’s still snowing huh - unblocked by the blown-up roof of their apartment. “It’s damn freezing here.”
“But Chuuya, they’ll just find us there and destroy it again,” he complains, moving closer and rearranging their position so that he’s embracing his life companion instead, his bigger frame enclosing the other and offering warmth. He rests his chin atop Chuuya’s hair, closing his eyes as he savors this moment. He doesn’t feel cold at all, despite the snow piling up, despite the whistle of arctic wind, despite not wearing anything beyond a simple shirt and pants.
“You’re so fucking crazy,” Chuuya shakes his head as he says those words, his acquiescence to the plan to hunt down their enemies first.
“I’ll make sure to warm you up real nicely,” he promises with a smile, inhaling and smelling nothing but the shampoo on Chuuya’s russet locks, the domesticity that has bound their lives, the sweet future that comes after defeating their enemy.
“You owe me a damn wine cellar.”
“Yes, yes~” It would be fun to see Chuuya get wasted on cheap wine, but he’ll probably be even clingier if the wine is expensive. “As you wish~”
“Now let go of me, idiot, so we can hunt them down.”
“I promise we’ll finish them off really quickly,” he promises before taking a small step backwards, his arms falling away from the embrace slowly.
There’s a ringing inside his head that tells him that there’s something wrong, but he ignores it.
Chuuya’s with him and there’s nothing that can go wrong if they’re together.
“We’ll eliminate the enemy and then we can find a new home.”
That’s his promise, holding onto Chuuya’s powerful, black-stained hands.
Holding hands for the past nineteen years they’ve known each other is how they’ve managed to rein in the overwhelming force caused by the curse-like Ability that has been bestowed upon Chuuya.
Now, seconds pass by as they look at each other, Chuuya’s silent trust heavy and warm in his heart as they wordlessly start to let go of each other’s hands, so they can eliminate this evil organization that threatens the peace of their world.
There’s no need for goodbye or any other words between them because everything will be fine.
He promised.
In the tracks of blood leading to the center of Moscow, the headquarters of the nebulous organization headed by an equally dark Boss, blood flows like spilled ink upon the canvas of snow.
Holding hands—
“C-C-Chuuya,” he gasps out as two young adults like them are crushed underfoot by the heavier firepower of their enemy.
Chuuya’s Ability that forces everything to bow down to his will - the rivers, the houses, the snow, the moon, his heart - rages on indiscriminately, splashing the pure white with a tainted black.
Chuuya’s Ability is strong but there’s a stronger evil in this world, right before their eyes.
Chuuya’s strong, but he’s only human, both of them are.
“Not bad,” the force of evil says to them, their bodies slumped on the ground as the rest of Moscow is drowned by the snow and the debris of the destruction of the city that it was.
Chuuya’s human body, likewise, is drowned by his own blood, lungs punctured and heart stuttered, consumed by his own power that pales in comparison still to their enemy.
“But not good enough.”
He’s left behind with what remains of Chuuya - snow-white cheeks, rose-red hair, ebony-black fingertips.
In the remains of Moscow, Dazai Osamu promises to return things to how it used to be.