Chapter Text
This is the story of how Dazai dies.
Though, in actuality, the story isn’t about Dazai at all, but a short, fiery redhead named Chuuya. Technicalities, technicalities, whatever. The statement is still true.
Dazai supposes that the story actually starts with a man.
This man was named Mori Ougai, and he had a little girl he adored. Her name was Elise, and she had silky blonde hair that ran down her shoulders in perfect waves. She had the looks of an angel, is what everybody said when they saw her.
She was also dying.
Mori Ougai was not afraid of many things, but he was afraid of the bruises on Elise’s skin, of how pale she’d become, of her high fever and drowsiness.
So, in his desperation, Mori follows legends. He finds a flower made from a drop of sun, that can provide anything, that can heal anything at all, with only a simple chant to activate it:
O expectations, stale and dismal airs,
leave this body of mine!
I want nothing anymore but simplicity,
quiet, murmurs and order.
O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace,
do not wake me again!
And he keeps her alive. He keeps himself alive, too. They live together for ages and ages and ages…
But then a certain, beloved queen becomes sick. And because life has the habit of piling misfortune after misfortune on top of each other, this queen was also pregnant. Her husband had sadly passed away just a few months ago.
The people are desperate, not wanting to lose one of the greatest and kindest rulers they’ve ever had—they begin to follow legends.
They find the flower by pure luck, Mori failing to hide it away properly. It saves the queen, and her son is born with fiery red hair.
In case it wasn’t obvious...the son is Chuuya.
To celebrate his birth, Kouyou releases a lantern into the sky; a tradition that would continue on Chuuya’s birthday for many many years.
But Mori doesn’t give up. He sneaks into the castle and finds that the power of the sun resides in the boy’s hair; but when Mori tries to cut it off, the hair darkens, losing its power.
So he takes the boy, and hides him away in a hidden tower in the woods, where no one can find them.
Chuuya, Mori and Elise grow into their own family.
But every year, whenever Chuuya would see the lights rise into the sky on his birthday…
There was always a yearning for something more.
“Hmm…” Chuuya frowns, tilting his head sideways as he studies his painting. “What do you think, Ryuunosuke?”
The chameleon blinks at him. Why are you asking me? Also, you have paint in your hair.
Chuuya scowls, turning to see that he did indeed have paint in his hair. He wipes his paint-stained hands on a towel. “Fuck. All this hair is such a pain…” Sighing, he decides to deal with it later, looking back up at his painting. It’s of him staring up at the night sky filled with lanterns, his long red hair tumbling down behind him.
“I’m gonna ask him,” he says to himself, “I’m really gonna ask him this year, Ryuunosuke.”
Akutagawa gives him a look that says, Sure you will , making Chuuya stick his tongue out at him. He climbs down from the ledge he’d been sitting on to paint the picture, irritably tucking his hair away from his face. He stands in the middle of the room, at a loss of what to do now that he’s finished the activity that’s been keeping him occupied for the last few hours. “I could read again…” He mumbles to himself, not really liking the idea but not exactly knowing what else there was to do. He studies the walls, covered in his paintings, at the shelves of books he’s read over and over, at the room he’s lived in his whole life, feeling a sudden surge of sorrow.
Akutagawa crawls up to his shoulder and nudges his face. I’m bored. Let’s go outside .
“You know I can’t,” Chuuya bites out, frowning. “Besides, I’m perfectly fine in here.” He glances at himself in the mirror, frown deepening at the paint still in his hair. “I guess I could fix that.”
Akutagawa makes a sound that Chuuya swears is a sigh. He gives the chameleon an annoyed look.
“Chuuya!”
He tenses, almost stumbling over his feet in his haste to get to the window. He hears Akutagawa shriek in irritation, clutching onto his shoulder for dear life.
“Chuuya, let down your hair!”
“Coming!” He shouts back, letting his hair tumble out the window and down towards the ground. He waves at the pair, Elise in one of Mori’s arms with a basket in her hands while Mori grips Chuuya’s hair with his other hand as the redhead hoists them up.
“Chuuya-nii,” Elise chirps as she and Mori slip through the window, reaching out to give Chuuya a hug.
“Hi Elise,” he greets, “how was your day?”
The girl scowls. “Annoying. Rintarou is so bratty, I can’t stand it. Always wanting me to do this and this for him.”
“Aw, Elise!” Mori whines, “It’s only because I adore you so much!”
The girl turns her head away, sticking her chin up. “Rintarou, you are nothing but an old, whiny geezer.”
The man sighs sadly, before turning to look at Chuuya, resting a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Chuuya, how was your day?” He glances at the paint in Chuuya’s hair. “Some more painting, I see,” he muses.
Chuuya reaches up to touch his hair. “Uh, yeah. Speaking of that, there’s something I wanted to ask you, Mori.”
Mori frowns as he examines a bruise on Elise’s arm. “Before that, how about you sing for Elise and me, Chuuya?”
He bites his lip. “Alright,” he agrees, moving quickly, setting a chair down for Mori and Elise to sit in, slamming a brush in Mori’s hands and placing a stool for himself in front of them. He takes a deep breath. “ Oexpectationsstaleanddismalairs —” He sings, the words zipping through his mouth so quickly they almost stumble over each other, his hair quickly glowing to his song in order to catch up.
“Chuuya, hold on a second—” Mori starts, before Chuuya interrupts him.
“I want nothing anymore but simplicity, quiet, murmurs and order. O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again!” He finishes quickly, hearing Elise’s surprised sound when energy suddenly rushes through her, the bruise on her arm disappearing in a blink.
“Alright, so back to my question!” Chuuya exclaims, standing up and turning around, forcing a smile when Mori gives him a curious look. “Uh, I’m not sure if you remember or anything, but you know, my eighteenth birthday is tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course I remember,” Mori replies, stroking Elise’s hair. She frowns at him, jumping off his lap and heading towards her room. “What about it?”
Chuuya falters. “Well,” he begins, moving to climb up to the painting he had finished prior. “For my birthday, I want to go out and see the lights. You know, the ones that always show up on my birthday.” He moves the curtain blocking the painting from view, looking at Mori hopefully.
There’s a moment of silence. Chuuya suddenly feels all his confidence leaving him, his self consciousness suddenly pushing him into a corner.
“You want to leave ?” Mori asks, and his tone is so frigid Chuuya holds back a shiver.
“Just for one night,” he insists, climbing back down, though in his mind, voices accuse him for being a liar. “Just for my birthday. That’s all I want.”
Mori’s expression grows dark. “Have you forgotten how dangerous it is out there for you? You wouldn’t last a day. Have you forgotten that Elise depends on you to keep her health? What if something happens?”
“I—”
“Are you really that selfish to put Elise’s safety at risk for a mere birthday wish?” Mori stands up from his chair, looking at Chuuya with an unbearable intensity.
Chuuya freezes. “...Of course not,” he murmurs, after a pause. “I’m sorry, Mori.”
Immediately, Mori’s entire posture relaxes. “That’s my boy,” the man praises, resting a hand on Chuuya’s shoulder. His grip suddenly tightens, expression sharpening. “Never mention leaving this tower again, Chuuya.”
“Yes, Mori.”
Dazai laughs, dark brown hair whipping around his face as he runs through the forest. “So much excitement for eight am in the morning, huh, Fyodor?” He chirps, smiling grandly at his companion. “It almost makes me not wanna die!”
Fyodor just gives him a deathly glare.
Behind them, a bombardment of kingdom troops race after them. Dazai sighs as he glances at who the leader is.
“That damn Ango…” he murmurs, studying the poker face of the black haired man, glasses glinting in the sunlight as he rides a blond horse. “We used to be friends once upon a time, you know?”
“I don’t really care.”
Dazai sighs. As he runs, his satchel bumps against his side in a steady beat, reminding him of his crime. Stealing the crown had been awfully too easy, so Dazai felt the need to spice things up a bit, resulting in the current predicament they were in, much to Fyodor’s displeasure.
Dazai supposes he should feel a little guilty, stealing the crown of the missing prince that the Queen and even most of the kingdom still mourned over, but Dazai’s never been known for his compassion. He was Dazai Osamu, the greatest thief in the entire kingdom, with a bounty worth more than a lifetime’s amount of work. He had no need for compassion.
He freezes, a piece of paper pinned onto a tree catching his attention. He gasps dramatically. “They totally ruined my beautiful face!” He exclaims, ripping the wanted poster off the tree. “Look at this, Fyodor! It’s an atrocity!”
The look Fyodor gives him could make roses wither. “I think it’s a pretty good depiction.”
He places a hand over his heart in offense. “Fyodor, how could you…”
Fyodor ignores him, beginning to run again, the flaps of his ushanka moving up and down with each step. Dazai sighs, stuffing the poster into his satchel before following the man.
They reach a dead end. Dazai hums, contemplating as he looks up at the top of the ledge. “Give me a boost, and I’ll pull you back up.”
“Give me the satchel,” Fyodor responds, giving Dazai a dark smile. He returns the gesture.
“Fine, fine,” he acquiesces, slipping the strap over his head and handing it over to the man. Fyodor slips it onto his own shoulders before pushing Dazai up with his hands, Dazai being just tall enough to grab the edge with his hand and haul himself up. As promised, Dazai reaches down to pull Fyodor up.
“Let’s go—” Fyodor begins, before Dazai grabs his knife, cuts the strap of the satchel so he can grab it without the hassle of pulling it over Fyodor’s head, and pushes the man backwards.
Fyodor stumbles, the backs of his heels on the edge of the drop, waving his arms around in an attempt to keep himself grounded. His eyes widen before immediately narrowing into a hateful glare.
“Let’s meet again sometime!” Dazai chirps, giving a small wave as Fyodor falls back down the small cliff. He doesn’t bother checking to see if the man’s okay, instead tying the now broken strap of the satchel together with a tight knot and sliding it over his shoulders again. He begins to run, his laughter ringing through the trees.
The sound of horse hooves pounding catches his attention. He peers over his shoulder and groans when he sees Ango on his blond horse, charging towards him with a crossbow probably aimed at his head. He glances at the vine hanging down a few feet in front of him, and idea popping into his head as he runs full speed, jumping onto the vine and swinging himself out of Ango’s view, before momentum pulls him back. He has a glimpse of Ango’s shocked face before he knocks Ango right off his saddle and replaces his spot.
He smiles darkly to himself as the horse continues to run, leaving Ango behind. Suddenly, the horse freezes in his spot, almost making Dazai fall off from the unexpected stop. “What’s wrong?” He questions, pulling on the reins. “Move it!”
The horse snarls at him, before attempting to reach the satchel with its jaws. Dazai yanks it away. “No, no stop it. Bad horse. This is mine—” The horse almost takes his finger off with his next bite. Okay, what the fuck?
“Of course Ango has the craziest horse ever!” Dazai exclaims, struggling to hold on as the horse begins to buck wildly in an attempt to reach the satchel. It ends up resulting into a rowdy tug of war. The horse eventually catches the pouch of the satchel between his jaws, almost pulling Dazai off with the force of his tugging.
“Let it go, you stupid horse!” Dazai grits out, tugging back, before an idea pops into his head.
He smiles widely, letting the satchel go.
The horse’s head flies back due to the force he’d been using to pull against Dazai, the satchel flinging out of his grasp and onto a branch that hangs off a cliff, just about to fall.
There’s a pause, before the two of them scramble after it.
“Ha!” Dazai boasts, as he grabs onto the satchel, the shaking of the branch not bothering him at all. The horse glares at him, but the sound of wood snapping catches both of their attention. Their eyes widen, but while the horse’s eyes widen with panic, Dazai’s eyes widen with joy.
The branch snaps, and the two of them fall of the cliff. Dazai closes his eyes and blocks out the sound of the horse’s screeching. Instead, he focuses on the sensation of falling, a gentle smile spreading across his face.
Maybe this is it —
He lands on a thick, gigantic cluster of bushes. He blinks up at the sky for a moment, before sighing. “Well, it was worth a try,” he says airily, “maybe I’ll die next time.”
His ears pick up the sound of horse hooves. He groans, moving quickly to hide behind a large boulder. What on earth did Ango feed his horse?
The sound comes unbearingly closer, making Dazai hold his breath, before quickly moving away. Dazai doesn’t move until the sound has completely faded, sighing as he stands up, stretching his arms over his head. He leans back on the wall of stone behind him, covered by ivy, only to completely fall onto his back with an “Oomph!”
He tilts his head up and realizes that he was in a small cave of some sort, the entrance hidden from view by the ivy. He sits up, examining the new area he’d stumbled into, the light at the end of the end of the tunnel sparking his interest. He stands up and walks deeper into the cave, eyes widening when he finally reaches the end.
A lone tower stood in an enclosed meadow, surrounded by trees. A waterfall cascaded behind it, filling the area with the soft sound of rushing water. He moves towards the tower, eyes lighting up with curiosity.
When he reaches it, the only thing that pops into his head is how the tower is a lot taller than it looks up close. The second thing he thinks is that it’d might be really nice to jump off of it. He walks around, searching for an entrance, but finds there isn’t any other opening in the tower besides the window looming high above. He grabs his dagger and begins to climb, stabbing his dagger between the bricks to help him get a secure grip as he makes his way up the tower. He hauls himself up onto the window ledge and slips inside, before turning around to see the view. He grins, slipping his satchel off his shoulder and placing it on the ground.
“Hmmm,” he hums to himself, “I might actually die if I jump off—”
Pain sparks through his head, the noise of what sounds eerily similar to a frying pan being banged ringing through his ears before his vision fades to black.