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It took Chuuya about an hour (well, not exactly… he still had no idea how time worked in this new experience) to recover from what he’d seen; the emotions were overwhelming. Fortunately, he had Scratch, whom he was currently petting on the couch.
Everything was simultaneously too much and not enough. He was so happy that everyone would be okay without him… but the loss of what he once had hurt more than he expected. He wasn’t exactly grieving his own death, but he was mourning for all the love he’d lost. And how unexpected all of it had been… he hadn’t been able to give any sort of ‘heartfelt goodbye’ to anyone in the Port Mafia. The thought made his chest hurt, the kind of deep pain that wouldn’t ever truly go away. The kind that he knew would strike him randomly in the middle of the night, choking him and making his eyes burn. Or when a memory would suddenly surface out of nowhere, sending a fresh wave of sadness and twisting his soul once again.
He’d experienced it a few different times, the most severe experience had been after the Flags--
Chuuya’s hand stilled suddenly, an involuntary gasp escaping him.
The Flags. The Flags.
He stood slowly, gently nudging Scratch off him. Suddenly his hands were shaking again, and he felt a strange swell of nervousness. Cautiously he made his way over to the window, unsure why he felt so hesitant.
His breath caught.
There they were. All of them. Relaxing on the patio, drinking various types of alcohol, a few playing some sort of gambling game. Pianoman was winning by the looks of it, and Albatross was watching with that large grin of his. A grin that Chuuya had thought he would never see again.
He felt like he was floating, separate from his body, as he rushed to the door. His fingers trembled as he turned the knob and pushed it open, momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight outside.
All the Flags paused in their game, looking up in surprise.
Before Chuuya knew what was happening he was running up to them, not quite believing his eyes. He'd convinced himself a long time ago that he would never see them again, and yet…
Chuuya nearly flinched in surprise when Albatross vaulted nimbly over a chair and wrapped him in a crushing hug. "Hey, Chuuya," he said, pulling back with his wide, flashy smile. "Joining us already, huh?"
"I..." He didn’t understand what he was feeling, other than it was an intense sensation consuming every fiber of his being. A few of the Flags were saying something, but he couldn’t hear it for some reason; everything felt like it was underwater. He blinked, trying to force himself to focus amidst the flurry of thoughts and emotions.
He tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Iceman say solemnly, "You're here too soon.” The man sighed slightly. “We’re happy to see you, but you shouldn’t be here.”
"You wanna tell us the story?" Albatross asked, his voice shifting to a quieter tone that was unlike him. All of the Flags had grown more serious, their gazes respectful.
Chuuya took a shuddering breath, forcing back the swirling emotions nearly overwhelming him. "I... I was on a mission, and our opponent's goal was to kill me, but we didn't know it. She... she took advantage of my weakened state after Dazai got me out of Corruption. I got impaled by a pole, poisoned, and... I bled out before the Agency doctor could get there." His words felt hollow as another wave of complex emotion washed over him.
"Ah, soukoku," Pianoman said with a nod. "You two still a duo?"
Why was that what he was focusing on?? "He left the mafia," Chuuya snapped in reply, tone a little harsher than he intended. "That traitorous bastard abandoned us for the Armed Detective Agency. But we've been working together lately in a goddamn truce. I am... was... going on a mission with him. Very fucking unfortunate."
"Dazai." A renewed smirk spread across Albatross's face. "Pleaaaase tell me you two have fucked already, it was getting exhausting, watching your melodramatic sexual tension amount to nothing. At first it was hilarious, but then it just got plain depressing.”
The Flags erupted into laughter, and Chuuya felt his face grow horribly red. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to form words.
“I think he has,” Doc observed.
“No!” Chuuya finally found his voice. “That’s… ew, I’d never, um, fuck a fish like him!”
Everyone was still laughing, and Albatross was looking at him expectantly.
Goddamn it. Chuuya knew his next words would condemn him for the rest of his days, but… well… “I guess I… uh… before I died, I, uh, kissed him.”
“Ha! I KNEW it!” Albatross cheered, then held out a hand. “That's my win, Iceman. Told ya so.”
“You… you bet on whether I would kiss Dazai?!” Chuuya demanded, watching in indignation as Iceman sighed. Albatross just grinned widely.
Yet another wave of emotions washed over Chuuya. He had missed this, so much that his chest ached with the sheer amount of feeling that overcame him. Over time the grief of losing the Flags had faded, only rising on certain occasions or triggers. Now, it felt like a tsunami, the memory of their deaths and their reunion sweeping over him. Fuck, he was gonna cry, wasn't he?
Sensing his mood, Pianoman smiled slightly, then pulled Chuuya into a hug. The affectionate gesture was not one they normally shared, and this was his breaking point, for the second time that day. He embraced Pianoman tightly in return, letting out a shuddering breath and letting his body relax. He suppressed the urge to cry for now; he'd had enough of that in the past 24 hours.
Pianoman pulled away, a small, fond grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It's good to see you again, Chuuya.”
Chuuya nodded in response, not trusting himself to speak. There was a bittersweet air around them, a bond cloaked with inside jokes, happy memories, and a blanket of sadness.
“So,” Doc cut in, breaking the silence, “you think you can beat Albatross at pool now?” He gestured to a nearby table Chuuya hadn't noticed until now.
For the first time since his death, Chuuya laughed.
“Let's do it,” he agreed, smirking.
Albatross snorted. “Your confidence will be your downfall; I will always reign supreme here.” With a wicked look he pranced over to the billiard table.
Iceman paused for a moment, glancing at Chuuya as the other Flags continued out of earshot. “Do you know what this means?” he asked.
Chuuya frowned, unsure if this was some sort of inside reference he was supposed to understand. “Hah?”
“You're here,” Iceman said simply. “That means you have a soul, and that means you are, without a doubt, human.”
He… he’s right. The realization startled him, and Chuuya’s eyes widened at the thought. “Guess so,” he replied with a shrug, trying to disguise how much the words had affected him. He'd felt human upon death, in Dazai's arms, like always. But to have this utter confirmation felt… he couldn't really tell, in all honesty. It was complicated. All of this is so fucking complicated, you’d figure I would have some peace in death…
Iceman, watching him, smiled and beckoned for Chuuya to follow.
And he did, letting a grin rise to his expression. Grief still had a firm hold over his heart, and he hadn't forgotten any of his friends and mafia family, or Dazai. But the ice that had clouded his thoughts began to thaw, replaced with an unexpected joy and reunion.
~~~
Time passed, and Chuuya enjoyed most of it. Occasionally he still felt like crying, and one night he nearly succumbed to tears whilst holding Scratch. The twilight shadows felt lonely, a reminder of two twins that no longer ruled the darkness. It was all hard as fuck sometimes, but Chuuya could confidently say he was happy. Not content, not yet, but truly happy. He had left a part of himself behind in the world of the living, but the rest of him slowly healed. He was certain it was similar for his friends. Tachihara, Kouyou, Akutagawa… all of them were likely moving on, accepting he was truly gone.
At times Chuuya was angry. Despite the companionship of the Flags, he was still pissed off that he couldn't spend more fucking time alive. A lot of things in his life had gone to shit, sure, but in his eyes life was always worth living (Dazai could go fuck himself; Chuuya could acknowledge his depression but the bastard was also melodramatic as hell). There were a few times he'd lost control late at night, screaming or throwing something in a fit of frustration.
The one thing that had made his heart swell unexpectedly was sleep. No longer were his thoughts haunted by the force of Arahabaki; it had taken some getting used to, but it was like an enormous burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
Secondly, he could dream. He vividly remembered playing a stupid board game with Dazai (who was cheating, mind you!), suffering from a mackerel-induced aneurysm, then… waking up. The shock he'd felt upon opening his eye would stick with him forever.
All in all, a positive experience, despite the fact he was dead. Nothing was quite right, but he could live (die…?) with that.
But as soon as it happened, he felt it.
A part of him finally clicking into place, like a piece of his soul had been returned to him.
Unfortunately, this poetic realization came with an ugly, mackerel scent that Chuuya could’ve identified anywhere.
He hadn’t seen any physical sign of it yet, but he knew that Dazai had died and had arrived… wherever this was.
Chuuya stilled from where he’d been reading in bed. He felt strange, though he rolled his eyes a moment later. Dazai’s fishy germs were already fucking affecting him?! His stomach felt nauseous, his mouth was dry, and his heartbeat had elevated slightly. Had he already been poisoned by the bastard??
This couldn’t stand.
He sat up in bed, folding his arms and waiting for Dazai to inevitably walk through the door. He wasn't nervous at all, that was preposterous.
And sure enough, the stupid beanpole walked in.
Chuuya took a moment to examine the mackerel’s appearance. He wore his normal attire, though his features were a little more defined; six years had passed since Chuuya’s death, after all. (This definitely did not make him more attractive. Ew. Haha…?) Dazai remained equally silent, both of them quietly assessing each other. The only sound in the room was Scratch’s breathing from where he was curled up, asleep, at Chuuya’s feet.
The mackerel’s eyes were just a little less dead and fishy, but they still held that critical, analytical intelligence that made Dazai act like an arrogant bastard in all his machinations.
Chuuya felt a smirk rise to his face. “Plotting as usual, are we?” he spoke, breaking the silence blanketing the apartment.
Dazai grinned brightly, wickedly in response. “I know that voice…,” he groaned dramatically, taking a few steps forward and clutching his chest like the dramatic asshole he was. “But…” he made a show of scanning the room, “I can’t see where it’s coming from; maybe there’s a microscopic chibi somewhere in here?”
Chuuya took a measured breath. “Great, I can’t fucking breathe now with the stench of a fish in this room, and I can’t hear because of all the bullshit you’re about to spew out of that overrated mouth!”
The stupid, idiotic asshole laughed, and Chuuya ignored the slight twinge of authenticity underneath the evil falsities. He pranced over to the bed. “Chuuya should be glad his owner has returned, he was so irresponsible by leaving me… such a tiny little dog can’t--”
“Lay off on the goddamn height jokes! Have you come up with no other creative insults in the six years we’ve been apart??”
“Like your small shrimp brain could ever comprehend actual intellect and imagination,” the bastard retorted loftily.
“You want fucking creativity? FINE.” Chuuya glared at him, holding his gaze. “Let’s see. You’re a goddamn asshole, manipulative piece of shit, stupid blue mackerel who drinks seawater for fun, melodramatic idiot, twigs-for-brains with no physical prowess whatsoever, migraine-inducing bastard, maniac who thinks he’s some sort of a genius, fucking leech, boneless beanpole, bandage-wasting shitface with a terrible sense of fashion… Need I fucking go on?”
Dazai’s eyes were filled with a wounded shock that was absolute bullshit. “A repulsive hatrack shouldn’t talk about a terrible sense of fashion,” he said petulantly (ugh, Chuuya could’ve gone without hearing that stupid tone for the rest of his life. Death. HOW THE FUCK was he supposed to refer to this??)
Chuuya massaged his forehead. “And I can’t even kill you again. I thought the afterlife wasn’t supposed to be fucking torture.”
Dazai shrugged. “I’m stuck with you too now, chibi, I have to deal with your brutish nature and stupid slug germs. I hate you.”
“Well the feeling’s fucking mutual, bastard.”
They lapsed into silence for a moment, Dazai still standing next to the bed, Chuuya trapped due to the presence of Scratch on his legs (no way he was gonna dislodge a napping dog, even for the sake of escaping Dazai’s horrid seawater stench).
The quiet continued until Chuuya locked eyes with the mackerel. Fishy eyes that were just a little brighter. “Was it beautiful?” he asked quietly.
Dazai tilted his head slightly, then nodded. “Poetic,” he replied.
For a moment, neither of them moved, unspoken emotions and words floating around them like water in a dark ocean.
Then the bastard yawned widely. “But it’s not like a small chibi brain could imagine such a difficult concept; you’d suck at poetry!”
“Oh fuck you!”
The stupid mackerel snickered slightly. “Oh? Does Chuuya want to--”
Chuuya lunged upwards, grabbing the bastard by the back of the neck and yanking him downwards, once again pulling him into a kiss (part of him vaguely wondered if the Flags had bet on this too, dammit).
This time, Chuuya could enjoy the kiss without the threat of imminent death, without the longing to attain some last semblance of warmth before he slipped into darkness.
And Dazai most definitely understood this too.
Their kiss this time wasn't one of desperation; it was both slower and faster, a long-awaited reunion and a glimpse into the unknown. Different and exactly the same; just like the two of them. Chuuya could tell from their previous conversation that Dazai had changed a little, and not exactly for the worse. Chuuya himself had the maturity (?) to accept that he did-- possibly, maybe-- care deeply about the mackerel.
Dazai melted into their kiss, and Chuuya could feel the goddamn smirk on the bastard's face. He reached up, interlocking his fingers with Dazai's and pulling him closer--
The mackerel's breath hitched in confusion, and he leaned backwards for a moment, gaze going straight to Chuuya's left hand.
Oh. Oh, he didn't know yet, did he?
Chuuya let himself smile as he gently slid his fingers away, clearly displaying the black ring he'd gotten (manifested? Been given? He honestly had no idea and neither does the author) after Dazai had set it on his grave. "I figured it was an okay bargain," he said. "I have to deal with your fishy, infectious presence forever, but I also get to do terrible things to you for the rest of our lives. Deaths. I don't fucking know, but point is--"
Dazai fell towards him, their bodies colliding as he kissed Chuuya again, snorting at the muffled sound of surprise from the redhead. One hand sliding around Chuuya's torso, the other curving around Chuuya's face, reminiscent of the way he'd gently touched Chuuya after he'd fought the dragon.
Guess the asshole's finally getting his 'Snow White', he thought begrudgingly before his mind was consumed by the warmth of the kiss and Dazai against him.
They were like this for a long moment, hands tangled in each other's hair, bodies pressed together and tangible after being apart for so long.
Then Dazai's hand slid downwards, sending another tingling wave of warmth through Chuuya.
But Chuuya paused because the author is a chicken and would rather write OoC fluff than sex, feeling a weird wave of what was definitely total hatred wash over him, and he shifted, instead wrapping his arms around Dazai in an embrace and resting his head on his chest.
The mackerel was definitely surprised by the motion, and Chuuya derived some amusement from the bastard’s brief hesitation. It was always a joy to break Dazai’s brain for a moment.
“Eugh, I suppose I can be a good owner,” the man whined, lightly putting his arms around Chuuya in return. “Especially if my dog misses me and adores me.”
“Ew,” Chuuya said vehemently in response. “As if. I fucking hate you and your stupid twig arms.”
“I hate you too with your stupid kissable face.” That’s disgusting. Utterly disgusting. I hate you, Dazai, with a burning passion. I feel nothing else.
“But I hated you first, I fucking attacked you first.”
“Nuh uh, I hated you first, you and your hideous ginger hair.”
“Like the bandages covering your eye were any better, you just did it to be dramatic!”
“It was an aesthetic choice that someone with your tacky fashion and tiny brain couldn’t possibly comprehend!”
“Aesthetic my ass, you bastard.”
“Oh Chuuya, I’m so flattered--”
“Argh!” He lunged upwards, sending a punch straight towards the mackerel’s face. Of course Dazai leaned to the side, though he fell off the bed in the process, hitting the ground with a dramatic whimper of pain that Chuuya didn’t believe for a second.
Scratch lifted his head, tail wagging. Chuuya barely had time laugh in amusement before the dog leapt from the bed, scampering on top of Dazai and eagerly licking the man’s face. He let out a muffled sound of surprise, wiggling away from the dog. “Ewwww, Chuuya, why do you keep such disgusting animals in your apartment?? I guess dogs are just attracted to other dogs.” Then he paused, seemingly recognizing Scratch, then looking at Chuuya.
“Yeah, he’s the same one,” he replied, a small smile curving into his expression despite the presence of an annoying fish (only cute pets could get him to smile in front of Dazai, obviously). “The one you thought we should leave in the fucking rain!!”
Dazai was still busy trying to fend off Scratch’s enthusiasm, utterly ignoring the accusation. “Look what’s happening now, chibi, he wants to kill me for being your owner! He’s obviously jealous.”
“For fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want to-- ugh, I fucking give up.” Chuuya slid out of the bed, plopping down next to Dazai and letting Scratch climb into his lap (the dog didn’t deserve to be tainted by Dazai’s fish germs, after all). “You’re just as much of an idiot as you were in life, dammit.”
“I’m offended, chibi. Most women would consider my wit and charm attractive, you know. You’re just too tiny and blind to see it.”
“Firstly, I’m not a fucking woman, you only made me crossdress once!! And secondly no they don’t, you’re a delusional piece of shit.”
“You crossdressed multiple times.” Dazai smiled innocently. “Remember the Christmas mission where we infiltrated that mansion and--”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! I was trying to forget that one!” After a brief moment of hesitation, however, he smirked. Commit to the bit, I guess. “You could never pull it off as well as I did, though.”
“Oh but I wanted to pull off your dress many times…”
Chuuya shuddered. “You creepy bastard. I would’ve beat your ass.” Seeing Dazai’s grin, he quickly added, “And DON’T you DARE say it!”
“My dog needs to be put into his place,” Dazai replied simply, shaking his head. “He’s been alone for too long; I need to remind him that I’m his owner and superior at everything. Does this place have an arcade??”
“Shut up! And I don’t fucking know, I’m sure we can find one, dammit.” Chuuya felt the familiar competitive drive filling him at the thought of triumphing over the brunette asshole.
The mackerel sighed loftily. “Let’s go terrorize local citizens, chibi.”
Chuuya barked a laugh despite himself, hopping up and dragging Dazai with him (he made sure to give Dazai’s arm a forceful and painful yank). This place, any heaven or deity, had no idea the havoc the two of them would soon wreak… it had made a mistake in reuniting them. Then again, he could confidently say that neither this world nor the next could-- unfortunately-- separate him and Dazai forever. They were soukoku, twins, one soul in two bodies, two halves of a legendary whole that would never be forgotten.
After all, death was just another darkness, and they were double black.