Chapter 1.1 Double Black
Osamu Dazai recently had a dream.
He had many dreams, but this one felt particularly strange to him, a strangeness he couldn't quite put his finger on.
In my dream, a boy named Nakahara Chuuya appeared, and the dream was about their first meeting, or rather, the process of their encounter.
Their first encounter was not pleasant. The boy rushed up to him for no apparent reason as soon as he saw him, knocked him to the ground, and stepped on him.
Without any prior cause or effect in the dream, he inexplicably got into a fight with someone, and of course, he certainly didn't suffer any losses.
The boy's superpower seemed unique, and his physical skills were also very strong. However, he was able to predict the opponent's actions with his intelligence, and his nullification ability prevented him from being attacked by any superpowers, so he did not fall into a disadvantageous position.
I don't know why, but even though it was a dream, the pain felt so real.
His body was kicked and sent flying, the force of the impact causing his back to slam against the wall, and he was then stomped on and ground against the floor. The skin on his back was probably cut by the gravel, and it stung a little, though the bandages wrapped around his body might offer some protection. The injuries he sustained made him cough a few times, the metallic taste of blood rising from his throat making him very uncomfortable, and the pain causing him to wince.
He hated pain the most, but he didn't wake up because of it.
The dream continued, and he suddenly switched to a god-like perspective, watching his own body fight and negotiate with the boy, but the content of the negotiation was very vague. He could hear the conversation, and some words seemed somewhat familiar, but they failed to leave any trace in his mind.
The dream continued until an explosion occurred, at which point he woke up.
Upon waking, Dazai Osamu inexplicably felt that it was a precognitive dream, simply because people he had never met in reality appeared in the dream.
He recalled the boy's appearance in his dream, such a unique look that he would never forget once he saw him. Moreover, besides the unfamiliar boy named Nakahara Chuuya, there was another person he knew present: Hirotsu Ryūrō.
Based on the information available, if his calculations are correct, he and Guangjin Liulang were most likely temporary partners at the time.
Moreover, he vaguely remembered the time when the events in his dream occurred, and based on the date on his phone, it was probably about ten days later.
He didn't know why he remembered this.
If the dream could really come true, that would be interesting...
He lowered his head slightly, staring at the blankets covering him, and thought to himself.
Dreams are easily forgotten. While he was still fresh in his memory after waking up, he took a piece of paper to write them down in case he forgot them.
Of course, this paper must be hidden away carefully; perhaps the contents on it can be encrypted.
He didn't know why he valued this dream so much, nor why he wanted to record it instead of forgetting it like he had with other dreams in the past.
After careful consideration, he felt that this might be a way for him to pass the time when he was bored.
In other words, intuition drove him to do all this.
When he made his first stroke, he tried hard to recall the scenes, characters, and details from his dream.
As for the conversation? He couldn't remember it anymore.
The events in the dream took place at a crossroads, or perhaps an alleyway. The houses were old, the surrounding environment was gray and black, and there was garbage piled up on the roadside, suggesting poor sanitation, perhaps even a slum-like area...
Besides him, there was also Guangjin Liulang and someone named... what was his name...
Oh dear, I forgot. He clearly remembered the other person's name when he first woke up.
Now, when I try to recall what the other person looked like, I can only grasp that fleeting image in my mind: the boy standing on him, his figure blurry, only his seemingly orange-red hair shining brightly in the sunlight.
Okay, I'll write it down.
Dazai Osamu painstakingly organized his dreams into words.
Nearly two hours had passed since he woke up. At that time, it was just getting light outside the window, and if you stood outside and looked out, you could still see a few lights on the tall buildings in the distance.
By now, he doesn't remember much. If he could recall why he went there, it was probably because of... Mori Ōgai's orders?
As for the specific details of the task, I can no longer recall them.
When he had nothing more to write, he put down his pen, looked at the half-written page of paper, pondered for a while, then closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillow.
In the dimly lit room, shadows fell upon him, as if he had been swallowed by darkness. His left hand couldn't help but touch the bandage wrapped around his right eye, where the smell of blood still lingered. The abdomen that had been stepped on in his dream still seemed to ache faintly, as if warning him of something, yet he was at a loss because of the few clues he had.
He knew the pain in his body was his imagination, but so what? He felt it.
When you close your eyes, the darkness you see is processed by your brain into colorful dream images, but the details are already blurred.
For a long time after that day, Dazai never had a dream about that subject again.
But he didn't experience any anxiety; instead, he quietly awaited the day foretold in his dream. After all, the content of dreams is uncontrollable and unpredictable. Rather than clinging to something vague and intangible, it's better to focus on what we already know.
However, he sometimes wondered if it really was just an ordinary dream.
It was just a dream I had by chance about someone I had never met in real life.
He had thought about not caring about such trivial things, but the inexplicable feeling that made him care was impossible to ignore.
It was as if something was constantly shouting in my head: Don't ignore it, don't ignore it!
This made it impossible for him not to care about the dream, so he would look at the calculated date written on the white paper and occasionally allow himself to look forward to that day.
A note from the author:
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I look haggard. I'm starting a major revision. I'm going to try my best to finish this chapter first, and then slowly fill in the rest.
I don't know if anyone's still reading this [dog head with rose in hand], and I don't know how far it will go. There's no outline; the length will depend on the situation. I'll fix any bugs I can; please treat anything I can't as my own interpretation.
I originally intended to quietly revise the text and then post it all at once, but the days of playing alone were simply unbearable, so I'm posting it here instead.
Hope you like it~
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