Chapter 27: The Double Black
As his consciousness drifted, Dazai Osamu dreamed of Nakahara Chuuya once again, a dream he hadn't had in a long time.
He dreamt that he appeared without warning on an unknown earthen slope, surrounded by towering ancient trees with lush foliage, and fragmented light and shadows cast through the gaps.
He looked around and suddenly spotted a familiar figure: the other person's ochre hair was being blown by a gentle breeze, and his black top hat was pulled low, so from Dazai Osamu's angle, he couldn't see any expression. He was standing alone in front of a gray-white tombstone, his head slightly bowed, and the lines of his shoulders conveyed an indescribable heaviness.
It is the middle.
His middle stage.
That partner who only existed in his dreams.
If this were a reality, Dazai Osamu felt his heart might stop beating for a moment because of this discovery.
He almost instinctively took a step forward, opened his mouth, but his voice was somewhat faint: "Chuuya?"
The figure in front of the monument did not react, seemingly still immersed in its own world.
Dazai Osamu quickened his pace, and the distance between them gradually decreased.
"Chuya."
This time, the call made Chuuya Nakahara slowly raise his head, his face filled with disbelief. He stared wide-eyed and quickly saw Dazai following the sound.
Then their eyes met.
That face, so intimately familiar to Dazai Osamu, was facing him, his cobalt blue eyes churning with shock, bewilderment, and other complex emotions he couldn't decipher. His lips moved slightly, and a name escaped like a sigh: "...Dazai?"
Dazai Osamu did not answer; his gaze was drawn to the tombstone. A few steps later, he could clearly see the name deeply engraved on it:
Tomb of Osamu Dazai
Oh.
What a...wonderful dream.
He actually witnessed his own grave in his dream.
Dazai Osamu didn't know what expression to make.
So that's how it is. His Chuuya was visiting his grave. For a soul that had long since sunk to the cold seabed.
What expression should he wear—a smile or tears? In the end, he could only maintain an almost blank, calm expression as he looked at the other person.
Then he heard Chuuya Nakahara say to him:
"You bastard Dazai, long time no see—"
The words abruptly stopped, the last syllable fading away, with no further accompaniment. Because Dazai Osamu had awakened.
He stared into the void of darkness, recalling what had just happened. He remembered Chuuya Nakahara's shocked face, his own tombstone, and the unfinished "Long time no see" still seemed to echo in his ears.
If I'm not mistaken, that might be his Nakahara Chuuya. Does his grave also signify that his death in his previous life wasn't entirely silent, but rather had a significant impact on the world in the dream?
With his death, did his partner in the dream also lose his partner? If it can make the other person often remember him because of this, that would be a very good thing.
This means that his existence wasn't entirely without consequence for Chuuya, and his death wasn't entirely meaningless. At least, in that world, in that Chuuya's life, he had truly existed, and then truly disappeared. And judging from the situation, he no longer needs to worry about being replaced by some otherworldly counterpart. That's enough.
These thoughts inexplicably had a calming effect on him. Some of the unease that had been deeply rooted in his heart dissipated considerably as a result.
So...maybe he also has a chance to go to that world.
Lost in these random thoughts, Dazai Osamu fell asleep once again.
But no other dreams appeared at this point.
-
When Dazai Osamu's consciousness once again sank into that mysterious space, the scene he saw was slightly different from usual.
[Dazai Osamu] was not lounging lazily in his rocking chair as usual, or wandering aimlessly among the endless bookshelves. He stood in a corner made of tattered pages, his back to the entrance, holding a heavy book with no words on the cover, as if he had been waiting there for a long time.
Dazai Osamu silently stopped a few steps away, a barely perceptible hint of doubt flashing in his iris-colored eyes. His subconscious told him that something seemed to be happening here.
[Dazai Osamu] had already noticed his arrival, so he slowly turned around to face him. On that face that looked exactly like his, there was no usual mockery or annoyance, but instead a calmness and a kind of inexplicable ease.
"I've found it." [Dazai Osamu]'s voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in this confined space. "A way to get you out of here."
leave.
The word was like a forbidden incantation; his pupils contracted slightly for a fleeting moment, an almost imperceptible shock crossing his eyes. But only for a second, and his pale face was once again covered by his usual almost indifferent mask. All emotions were perfectly suppressed beneath his expressionless face.
"...What is it?" His voice was calm and emotionless, as if he were asking about something that had nothing to do with him.
[Dazai Osamu] said nothing, simply handing forward the heavy book in his hands. On the open page, a certain line was clearly marked with special ink. His movements were swift and decisive, his face displaying an unquestionable expression.
Dazai silently accepted the book from Osamu Dazai. His gaze fell on the marked words, his eyes slowly moving with the complex and difficult phrases, his brain working at lightning speed to decipher the information contained within.
With the help of a dictionary in the space containing obscure, otherworldly script, he painstakingly taught himself a language not belonging to this world. The script was twisted like a snake, and the syllables were strange like mutterings. Even with his intelligence, he had only reached the point where he could barely read it and just understand the general meaning; minor errors were unavoidable.
When he reached the end and understood the essence of the method that Osamu Dazai was referring to, he was strangely not greatly moved. It was as if this was a predetermined outcome.
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of another item that Dazai Osamu had handed him—a silver dagger with an antique design and a cold, gleaming light. The blade was long and narrow, with a thin edge like a cicada's wing, exuding a sharpness capable of severing a soul. He recognized it; he had seen it before in the corner of a bookshelf, and at the time, he had only sensed its strange aura but had never investigated it further.
Without hesitation or questioning, Dazai Osamu simply extended his pale hand and steadily took the dagger; the cold metallic touch instantly seeped into his soul.
He gripped the hilt of the dagger with both hands, feeling its heavy weight. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he aimed the gleaming tip of the blade precisely at a point three inches below his left chest and thrust it in forcefully.
Pfft—
The sound of the knife tip piercing through clothing and flesh was quite loud in the unusually quiet space.
Is pain in a dream still considered pain? He didn't know; perhaps it was somewhere between reality and illusion.
The pain drilled in and out of his soul, and finally seemed to attach itself to his body—if he had a body at all.
The scenery before him flickered, and even the figure of his counterpart standing before him began to blur. His consciousness, like blood draining from his body, grew hazy. It seemed to exist between reality and illusion, on the verge of existence and annihilation. Was the pain in his dream truly pain? At this moment, he couldn't tell, for his consciousness was already fading.
The scene before him began to shake and flicker violently. The once clear figure of Dazai Osamu, standing opposite him, also began to fade and blur rapidly, finally distorting into a hazy black shadow.
Dazai's consciousness began to dissipate uncontrollably. A tremendous sense of drowsiness suddenly pressed down on his soul, a hundred times heavier than any suffocating fainting spell he had ever experienced from being submerged in water. It was as if all the blood in his body was rapidly draining away, taking away all his warmth, strength, and sense of existence.
Before he completely lost consciousness, in the last moment before his soul collapsed, through his blurry and distorted vision, he vaguely saw a blurry arm slowly rise in the black shadow that represented [Dazai Osamu], and bend and sway in an extremely twisted and bizarre posture.
His remaining rationality helped him make a final, difficult judgment: it was a gesture of farewell.
What kind of scenery would I see if I could open my eyes again?
This thought, like the last spark in the darkness, quickly went out.
He didn't know the answer, but he could still feel the presence of the dagger left in his body, so vividly.
He fell down.
Is it the collapse of consciousness, the stripping away of the soul, or some kind of complete annihilation?
He felt as if he had fallen into some indescribable place, yet also as if he had never moved at all.
"The deceased had a fruit knife inserted into his abdomen; the preliminary assessment is suicide..."
"...Vitality signs are weak...Quickly! A stretcher!"
The cacophony of noise and screams filled with terror and disbelief assaulted his hearing.
pain.
The spot where the dagger had pierced his soul was now radiating a clear, sharp pain, a visceral ache. As consciousness gradually returned, the pain became increasingly distinct.
Dazai Osamu struggled to open his heavy eyelids. Light pierced through from the outside, and in his blurred vision, he saw swaying figures and flickering blue and red lights.
He didn't know what was happening; the pain in his body was being transmitted to his brain with crystal clarity.
He... seems to have traveled through time again?
He seemed to be injured, and the pain became more and more obvious over time, but he was unable to get up for the time being because his strength had not yet been restored.
My mind is still in a daze; perhaps it's all just a side effect of time travel.
After a while, Dazai Osamu finally regained his strength. He slowly propped himself up, then looked down and saw a cheap fruit knife with a plastic handle deeply embedded in his left abdomen. Blood soaked through his clothes, spreading a dark red stain. The pain was real, but negligible, as it was less severe than some of the superficial wounds he had suffered during dangerous missions in the Port Mafia.
However, his sudden movement, being so obvious, went unnoticed by those standing around. Instead, a chorus of screams, some of surprise, some of fear, erupted.
"Oh my god, he moved! He just moved! He's not dead yet!!"
"Aaaaaah—it's come back to life!!!"
Dazai Osamu sat expressionlessly in the center of the vortex of blood and screams, feeling the stinging pain in his abdomen and the chaos around him.
The first gift from the new world was truly... unique.
A note from the author:
----------------------
I will try my best to finish it; I look very tired.
The New World is Detective Conan, a story about a celebrity and a singer (yes, it's the Chuuya from my dreams!).
It's a reverse checkmark, starting from chapter 28. It might be checked off after I finish revising and replacing it.
Then the next book is the column article: [Demon Slayer] Doma says he's not an Upper Moon.
This is considered a pre-order; I'll try my best to finish it anyway. [hugs]
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