Chapter 12: The Double Black

In the time that followed, Dazai Osamu went to eat his favorite canned crab. This simple thing, however, took him a long time, because he didn't use any transportation, but walked step by step from the quiet harbor area to the bustling city center. The distance was infinitely stretched by his footsteps, and the concept of time became blurred.

After concealing all the dangerous aura belonging to the inner world, he was just an ordinary young man wearing a black trench coat and with bandages wrapped around his head, a strange person who seemed out of place in the bustling city, yet was ignored by the hurried crowd.

He minimized his presence, moving silently through the city like a transparent ghost.

Upon arriving at his destination, he managed to force down a little food, but it tasted bland and tasteless. Even his favorite canned crab meat lost its deliciousness at that moment.

After eating, he walked back step by step along the long road to the abandoned shipping container where he had temporarily taken refuge, a container that smelled of rust and the salty tang of the sea. By the time he finished walking back and forth, it had become completely dark.

Everything that needed to be done had been taken care of. He'd also quietly made some changes to things that shouldn't have been done, just in case they came in handy later. Everything else was no longer his concern.

The time that followed belonged entirely to him.

He walked towards a nearby beach. This was not a bustling tourist area, but a desolate, undeveloped area filled with jagged rocks.

Night fell, and the surrounding area was deserted, save for the monotonous roar of the waves crashing against the shore.

He stood on the damp gravel, the icy sea wind howling and filling his trench coat, the hem fluttering in the wind. He closed his eyes, letting the salty, chilly wind lash his face and ruffle the stray hairs on his forehead. His senses were heightened in the darkness—the sound of the wind, the waves, the feel of the gravel beneath his feet… everything was so clear.

The sky was a somber dark blue, and the last vestiges of warmth at dusk had long been swallowed up by the night.

Dazai Osamu slowly opened his arms, facing the biting sea breeze, and walked step by step, steadily and slowly, toward the dark, surging ocean.

His footprints, some deep and some shallow, were imprinted on the damp sand, spreading all the way until they were wiped away by the rising tide, as if they had never existed.

The icy seawater first washed over his ankles, bringing a bone-chilling cold. Then it reached his calves, knees, waist, and abdomen... His body was gradually enveloped and swallowed by the heavy, salty liquid. He offered no resistance, even submitting with a sense of relief, allowing himself to become part of the sea.

He slowly sank deeper and deeper until even the hair floating on the surface was swallowed up by the seawater.

A feeling of suffocation gradually took hold of his throat and chest. Seawater rushed into his nose and mouth, burning with a stinging pain. His lungs felt like they were on fire, burning intensely. Each instinctive attempt to breathe only brought more turbulent seawater and more intense pain. A severe headache followed, as if countless steel needles were churning inside his skull.

...Ugh, this pain is awful.

The thought flashed clearly through his consciousness, which was about to be engulfed by darkness, and his vision began to blur.

The water, cold and brutal, invaded every corner of his body. He didn't struggle with any survival instinct; he simply relaxed every muscle and let gravity drag him down into the pitch-black seabed.

The depths of the sea are utter darkness. There is no light, no sound, only boundless silence and crushing water pressure. He knew this would be his eternal resting place.

In his last moments before his consciousness completely faded, he suddenly remembered that he and someone who only existed in his dreams had been partners for several years...

Even though it was in a dream.

Everything in that world is so incredibly real... Oda Sakunosuke must be happily writing his novel somewhere over there.

It's a little... a shame I didn't get to see the ending...

As Dazai Osamu thought this, other random thoughts popped into his mind. His body had already sunk into the darkness, and before losing consciousness, he had been staring at the dark sea.

In the final minutes before he fell into a complete coma, strangely, his mind was blank. From then on, there was no past, no future, no pain, and no expectation. Only an absolute, reassuring slumber.

He slowly closed those iris-colored eyes that had once reflected countless darkness and absurdity in the world.

...

…

it's all over.

From then on, all the noise, pain, entanglements... and everything else would no longer have any connection with him.

Dazai Osamu never imagined that after he had truly decided to die, he would have the chance to wake up again.

His consciousness gradually returned, and his brain, which should have completely shut down, reluctantly began to turn again under some powerful external stimulus, struggling to analyze the current situation for this consciousness that should have been dead.

However, before his chaotic thoughts could piece together any valid conclusions, a voice, a voice that should never have been there, pierced through the fog of consciousness, exploding in his ears like thunder, calling his name again and again:

"Hey, Dazai! Dazai Osamu! Wake up! You bastard, don't die! Do you hear me?!"

The sound grew more urgent with each note.

Who is calling him? In this place where even consciousness shouldn't exist?

Then, he felt something warm and soft, with astonishing heat, press tightly against his forehead. The touch was so real, so warm. In a daze, he seemed to hear the whisper of a god: "Damn it, don't die!"

Then he lost consciousness again.

When he regained consciousness, Dazai Osamu struggled to open his heavy eyelids.

The first thing he saw was a pure white ceiling. The glaring incandescent light made him squint uncomfortably. His senses slowly returned: the pungent smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils, and he felt the soft yet unfamiliar touch of the bed beneath him. He slightly moved his eyes and saw that he had been changed into a blue and white striped hospital gown. The bandage on his head was still wrapped around his head, and his right eye was still covered by the familiar thick gauze.

He looked around at everything, his iris-colored eyes widening slightly, filled with a blank, almost blank, confusion.

What happened?

He was absolutely certain that the chances of being rescued at the time and place he had chosen were zero. Everyone who could potentially influence his plans, everyone capable of stopping him—whether out of duty, surveillance, or some ridiculous "friendship"—was firmly held back by his carefully orchestrated events, large and small, keeping them far from that death beach. He was confident of that.

So, has he reached the Pure Land?

But why...?

The belated pain, like a venomous snake that had been lying dormant, suddenly awakened and bit into his nerve. A severe, splitting headache struck, causing him to groan instantly, his brows furrowing in agony. Instinctively, he raised his weak hand to cover his forehead, which felt like it was about to burst.

Just then—

"Click".

The door to the ward was gently pushed open.

Dazai Osamu barely managed to remove his hand from his forehead, enduring the excruciating pain, and with great difficulty, turned his eyes to look in the direction of the sound.

A figure walked in. A well-tailored black suit jacket was casually draped over the shoulders, the collar of the shirt underneath slightly open, revealing a smooth neck. His signature ochre hair remained strikingly bright under the harsh white light of the hospital room.

The moment he saw the person's face clearly, Dazai Osamu's pupils, which had been constricted by pain, suddenly dilated, filled with pure shock.

...Nakahara Chuuya?

He had imagined countless possibilities—Mr. Mori's medical room, a prison of some rival organization, even a ferry on the Sanzu River… but he never imagined it would be this person. This person who only existed in his long-vanished precognitive dreams.

Upon seeing the dazed Dazai Osamu on the hospital bed, the other person's emotions exploded like a powder keg that had been lit.

Those cobalt blue eyes widened in shock, churning with disbelief, surprise, lingering fear—a complex mix of emotions too indiscernible to discern. Then, like a ignited blue flame, a pure, almost all-consuming rage instantly swept away all other emotions!

"Dazai Osamu!!!"

A low growl, suppressed to the extreme and seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, resounded in Dazai Osamu's ears.

In a few swift steps, Chuuya Nakahara rushed to the bedside, his speed almost creating a gust of wind. He suddenly leaned down, his hand, gloved in black leather, gripping the collar of Dazai Osamu's hospital gown tightly. The distance between them instantly closed to an extreme, close enough for Dazai Osamu to clearly see Chuuya Nakahara's eyes, which were slightly gleaming with anger, and to feel the scorching breath emanating from the other's fury.

Those eyes, like polished sapphires, shone with an astonishing brightness due to intense emotions, vaguely reminding him of the last thing he saw before sinking to the bottom of the sea... the cold, deep, dark sea surface that reflected the faint light of the sky.

Time seemed to stand still.

The two stared at each other at extremely close range. Dazai Osamu was still reeling from the shock and a physical headache, his eyes vacant and blank. Nakahara Chuuya's chest heaved, his knuckles white from gripping his collar, trembling slightly. His lips were tightly pressed together, his jawline taut, and the expression on his face made Dazai feel that he was about to erupt into a violent roar and interrogation.

Only one thought was swirling in Dazai Osamu's mind: Was he still dreaming? Could the dead dream?

In Chuuya's eyes, Dazai Osamu was more vulnerable than ever before. His pale face, empty eyes, slightly furrowed brows due to the headache, and the way he was being held in Chuuya's hands, completely defenseless and at his mercy... He had seen this before, catching glimpses of him when he was seriously injured and unconscious or extremely exhausted, but never as thoroughly or so glaringly as now.

Although this rare display of vulnerability stirred a faint sense of wonder in Chuuya Nakahara, at this moment, the overwhelming emotion was a furious anger that nearly overwhelmed him.

That damned mackerel! That reckless bastard rushing headlong into death! Does he even know...?

Chuuya's lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

Dazai Osamu guessed that it might have been an angry curse, a question tinged with fear, or something else entirely.

He actually knew nothing; at that moment, his mind was completely blank.

Finally, the moment his gaze fell upon Dazai Osamu's bloodless face and empty eyes, Chuuya Nakahara felt all his vehement words caught in his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he let out a suppressed sigh. The fingers that had been clenching his collar, filled with a complex mix of resentment and indescribable emotion, slowly loosened.

Dazai Osamu lost his balance and slumped back onto the hospital bed. Fresh air rushed into his almost constricted throat, causing him to cough. But he just stared blankly at the ceiling, then slowly moved toward the angry figure beside the bed, as if he hadn't yet recovered from this immense absurdity.

Chuuya Nakahara stood by the bed, looking down at him, his chest still heaving. He glared fiercely at Dazai, but in the end, he simply turned around abruptly, walked to the window, his back to the hospital bed, his shoulders tense.

Only Dazai Osamu's suppressed coughs and the two men's heavy, uneven breathing filled the ward, creating a tense and silent atmosphere.

All these unbelievable events probably started a few days ago...

A note from the author:

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Edited