Chapter 32: The Double Black
"Know."
These two simple words created enormous ripples in Dazai's originally calm and tranquil mind.
A truth shrouded in layers of mystery now seems almost within reach.
However, this answer did not bring pure joy. Instead, it gave rise to a strange, almost cowardly feeling in Dazai, which coiled around his heart like barbed wire.
He looked at the Chuuya Nakahara before him, whose appearance was almost identical to the flamboyant and unrestrained Chuuya from the previous world, yet possessed a composure honed by time. This composure, covering that familiar yet unfamiliar face of Dazai, isolated him from the vividness of his memories, bringing a strange sense of alienation. Even though the data showed the other was only 22 years old, this unfamiliar composure gave him a strange, uneasy feeling. So different from the boisterous, youthful Chuuya, he found it difficult to adjust for a moment.
“...The Hong Kong Mafia.” Dazai’s lips moved silently a few times, as if his tongue was repeatedly teetering over whether to say it. Finally, as if he had exhausted all his courage to test the waters, his eyelids lowered, and his voice was so soft as to be a soliloquy, but it still reached Chuuya’s ears, “Do you know that?”
Chuuya Nakahara's ambiguous smile remained unchanged. He casually crossed his legs, his cobalt blue eyes calmly fixed on Dazai, with a penetrating power that seemed to see through everything: "I know, I can guess what you want to ask."
He paused, his tone as calm as if he were recounting a mundane daily event, “I do come from another world. There, I had a partner named Dazai Osamu—not the Dazai of this world, of course—who went missing. And I, I woke up to find myself in this strange world.”
Missing?
This word precisely coincided with a vague conjecture in Dazai's subconscious.
Just as Dazai was lost in this brief but intense thought, a faint sound suddenly came from beside him. He subconsciously turned his head, and his vision was instantly filled with a dark presence approaching him, carrying a familiar scent—it was Chuuya leaning down to press the switch beside him. They were now so close that they could almost feel the slight warmth emanating from each other's bodies.
Dazai's breath hitched slightly.
The lights weren't on yet, and the dim light in the ward outlined the perfect profile of Chuuya Nakahara. His long eyelashes were lowered as he intently stared at the light switch. That focused expression, and the silhouette so close to his face, gave Dazai a dreamlike sense of familiarity, yet it was completely different from the Chuuya of the previous world.
It was a deeper, more restrained familiarity, as if it carried more time and secrets. He couldn't yet describe this inexplicable feeling more specifically; instead, he felt seized by some indescribable impulse, causing his fingers to rise slightly against his will, his fingertips uncontrollably wanting to touch that skin so close at hand—
Click.
The crisp sound of the switch on and off rang out, and the light from the incandescent bulb instantly dispelled the dimness of the ward, as well as Dazai's inappropriate daze.
He snapped back to reality, his fingertips barely stopping before touching the other's hair, then quickly withdrew, quietly curling up inside the sleeve of his hospital gown. When the lights came on, Chuuya Nakahara seemed oblivious to his momentary lapse in composure, and instead sat back down in his chair, allowing Osamu Dazai's heart to quietly relax.
"So, you..."
Even though I've rehearsed the question a thousand times in my mind, when it's finally time to speak, my throat feels like it's being choked by an invisible hand, so dry that I can't utter a sound.
Dazai Osamu was slightly annoyed and began to want to back down. He even blamed the suddenly appearing Nakahara Chuuya for arriving too quickly, which disrupted his mental defenses and forced him to face him without any preparation.
What annoyed Dazai even more was Chuuya's calm gaze upon him. The irritability and impatience he had shown when he first entered the ward were gone, replaced by an almost tolerant indifference, as if he could see through all of Dazai's embarrassment and struggle.
Are you laughing at me now? The thought suddenly popped into my head.
Dazai Osamu almost regretted his foolish decision to stay in the hospital for so long. If he had escaped from the beginning and gone anywhere, he might have been able to avoid this unexpected so-called reunion.
Chuuya Nakahara patiently waited for Dazai Osamu's next words, without any urging or impatience. He simply sat there quietly, his gaze calmly fixed on Dazai. The light from the hospital room's ceiling lamp fell into his cobalt blue eyes, refracting and creating subtle, flowing shadows that possessed a captivating allure.
"Why," Dazai hesitated for a long time before finally managing to squeeze out the words, "why would you suddenly come here to find me now?"
There were clearly more suitable times. His whereabouts were exposed by the media, and the problem couldn't be solved overnight. Why now of all times? Before he was even prepared to face any possibilities... oh wait...
For some reason, Dazai's thoughts began to become chaotic again. At this moment, the contents of his mind were intertwined and chaotic, like a wastepaper basket swept by a hurricane, temporarily unable to be sorted out, and he was still in a state of "venting".
Chuuya's tone was as flat as if he were stating the weather, but the content was equally unrelated: "Ah, well, it's just because I want to see you as soon as possible."
Dazai Osamu abruptly raised his head at his words, his iris-colored eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at Nakahara Chuuya. He saw no hint of mockery or jest on Chuuya's face, only utter composure and seriousness.
...Huh?
"Then," Chuuya continued, seemingly oblivious to Dazai's shock, his speech still steady, as if reporting a mission, "since I don't know exactly what you want to know, I'll just tell you what I know." He adjusted his posture, his gaze sweeping across the monotonous walls of the hospital room, as if recalling something, "Before I came to this world, once when I was sweeping my bastard partner's grave, his ghost suddenly appeared for a moment, then disappeared. At the time, I thought I was seeing things, or that it was really haunted."
He smirked, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips. "When I got back to rest that night, I had a really long dream. I won't go into the details, but basically it was like that jerk of a partner was desperately calling my name somewhere... and then, when I woke up, I found myself in this world."
Ah, tomb sweeping.
This word instantly triggered a memory deep within Dazai's mind—his last dream before he transmigrated to this world, in which he dreamt of Chuuya Nakahara visiting his grave. However, he couldn't remember the specifics of the dream, though he vaguely recalled his thoughts at the time. He probably found it strange to see himself in a dream, and was also grateful that he was remembered by the Chuuya in the dream, rather than being replaced by some other counterpart.
“And then there’s this,” Chuuya’s gaze refocused on Dazai’s face, a scrutinizing look in his eyes, “my partner is strange. Every now and then he… freezes up.” He wore a thoughtful expression, as if trying to find a more fitting word, “…spitting out some nonsensical, incoherent ramblings, or suddenly becoming like a puppet with its strings cut, staring blankly, frozen in place, almost completely unresponsive to the outside world. Although this guy usually has a lot of quirks, like liking to play pranks or cause trouble for others, and his taste is absolutely terrible—but when he completely disappears, the trouble caused by these quirks is strangely kind of nostalgic.”
“By the way,” Chuuya leaned forward slightly, his sharp blue eyes fixed on Dazai Osamu as if trying to pierce his soul, “Do you know where he is?”
Chuuya Nakahara's voice pulled Dazai back from his brief daze.
As he spoke, Chuuya Nakahara's gaze never left Dazai Osamu's face. His eyes diligently captured every subtle change in the other's expression. When he saw the other's pupils shrink slightly at the mention of words like "crash," especially the last direct question, and his expression stiffen as if his secret had been exposed, he couldn't help but laugh with pleasure.
Ah... Chuuya...
Dazai Osamu felt his facial muscles were about to lose control. His brain translated every word Nakahara Chuuya said into more appropriate language and matched it with his memory.
The other person's words were like precise arrows, each one striking the most hidden corner of his heart. That intense sense of familiarity, those details that only Chuuya in his dreams knew, everything seemed to point to that possibility he longed for day and night but dared not hope for. Even though the content of Chuuya's words was slightly off, he knew that these deviations were probably just the effect of different perspectives.
Through the other person's words and the sense of familiarity they evoked, he could confirm that the person he had been longing for day and night might truly be right before his eyes. But at this moment, he didn't know how to put on the right expression; his inner emotions were in turmoil. He felt more confused than joyful. Disbeliefs like, "Have I really found her? Is this how we met?" flooded his mind.
Was this reality, or was he hallucinating? Dazai Osamu didn't know. A strong sense of unreality enveloped him, making him wonder if he was still in some bizarre dream, or if his long-term repression was causing severe hallucinations. Everything before his eyes became unreal; the world seemed to be spinning. He felt dizzy, even feeling as if his eyes were about to turn into constantly spinning mosquito coils.
"Ah, Chuuya?" he called out subconsciously, his voice filled with a confusion and a desire for confirmation that even he himself was unfamiliar with.
"Yes, I'm here." Chuuya's reply carried a strange sense of reassurance, yet it only made Dazai more confused.
What exactly is going on now...? Dazai Osamu's mind has almost completely shut down.
He forced himself to calm down, trying to search through his chaotic memories for key details that could confirm the other person's identity—those insignificant yet unforgeable details that only he and Chuuya in his dream knew. He fired off one question after another, speaking rapidly with an almost obsessive desire to verify.
"Did I break several bottles of your red wine when we first met when I was 17?"
"Three bottles of top-quality Petrus, and you were grinning like a cat that had just stolen some fish."
"We fought near the 'sheep's' base. Who won in the end?"
"It's a draw. You cheated and used tricks to get away, while I demolished half of the alley."
"Once, a mission failed, and we had to take shelter from the rain..."
"Hidden in an abandoned phone booth, you complained that my hat was in the way and tried to wipe your wet hair with my coat, and I beat you up."
...
Chuuya Nakahara gave accurate answers to every question without the slightest hesitation. Even though some details may have deviated slightly due to the passage of time or different perspectives (for example, in one incident, Dazai insisted that he "left gracefully" rather than "tricked himself away"), the core facts and the unique feelings shared from that experience were completely consistent.
Finally, we arrive at the most crucial question. While other Chuuya counterparts might be distant from the above, Dazai is certain that this question is uniquely his and Chuuya's.
"I once asked you to guess the answer to a question, something like, 'If I never exist in your world, but you know me, why is that?' Do you remember your answer?"
Chuuya Nakahara only thought for a moment before answering: "I only remember a little bit, and I don't know how I answered you. You said the answer was a dream. At the time, I thought it was too difficult for me to guess such a subjective answer."
So... it really is him.
Dazai Osamu's fingertips trembled slightly under the blanket. He took a deep breath and then asked the next question: "What exactly do you see me like in that world?" Of course, he had already confirmed the other's identity; they were both the person the other wanted to see, with no further deviation.
However, although his identity has been basically confirmed, he is eager to know how his abnormal behavior (such as the so-called crash) is interpreted in the other person's timeline.
Chuuya Nakahara paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts. He crossed his legs again, casually resting his hands on his knees, and frowned, as if recalling something unpleasant: "You're such a troublesome person who malfunctions intermittently. Most of the time, you're still that annoying person who does missions when you're supposed to, and you can make me angry when you want to, and when you cooperate... well, you have that damn good chemistry." He paused, "But sometimes, you suddenly freeze up."
"Completed?" Dazai tapped the blanket on his body lightly with his fingertips.
"It's like your soul has been ripped out." Chuuya's voice lowered, tinged with a barely perceptible confusion. "Your body is still moving, you can still breathe and blink, you can even mechanically drink water and eat, maintaining the bare minimum of vital signs. But your eyes are empty, unresponsive to any stimulus, and impossible to communicate with. The first time I encountered this situation, I thought you'd been hit in the head or had been hit by some insidious superpower. You're really stupid."
"Without any warning?"
"Without any warning," Chuuya said decisively. "One second you're arguing with me, and the next you might be standing there frozen in place. It's very strange. Everyone in the Hong Kong Mafia, from the lowest-ranking members to Mr. Mori, thinks you might have some kind of extremely rare mental illness. We've speculated that you might have schizophrenia or something like that. We've consulted a lot of doctors, but none of them can cure you. So in the end, we started to consider whether it was caused by a supernatural ability, but the research results also denied that."
At the time, everyone else unanimously believed that Dazai might be suffering from some rare disease. They disregarded the influence of supernatural abilities because of the unique nature of Dazai's "No Longer Human," which could eliminate the effects of all supernatural abilities. Furthermore, all of them, including Chuuya Nakahara, had experimented with their abilities while Dazai was in a state of "mental dementia," and the results showed that "No Longer Human" continued to operate passively, like an absolute defense; any supernatural ability that approached him would instantly dissipate. This completely ruled out the possibility of external supernatural interference. Even Mori Ougai was eventually forced to return to his old profession, digging out his thickly dusty medical books, expressing his determination to conquer this strange illness—perhaps stemming from a doctor's curiosity and desire to conquer intractable diseases.
Dazai Osamu listened quietly, his face revealing no emotion.
As he spoke, Chuuya Nakahara's tone took on a fatalistic helplessness. "Your outbursts are completely unpredictable, and that's the most dangerous thing. Think about it, during a high-risk mission, your partner suddenly turns into an empty shell? It's practically an invitation to suicide." He snorted coldly, with a hint of self-mockery. "Luckily, you bastard, you're not destined to die. Every time you turn into an idiot, I'm right there beside you."
Of course, this condition was not resolved until Dazai completely disappeared, and its occurrence was also completely random. If this situation occurred while performing a highly dangerous mission, it would greatly increase the possibility of death. Fortunately, Chuuya Nakahara was always by his side.
Although Chuuya Nakahara sometimes felt so annoyed by this situation that he wanted to throw the bastard into the sea to feed the fish, in the end... he still patiently brought his bastard partner back to the base.
It can only be said that when Dazai was normal, his mind was indeed sharper than anyone else's, and his methods were ruthless enough. When he was abnormal, he was truly abnormal. However, the Port Mafia was in a period of expansion at the time, and he was temporarily an indispensable part. So, although Mori Ougai regretted that Dazai had this disease, as long as the incidence rate was within a tolerable range, he could continue to use him without stopping, until Dazai Osamu truly disappeared. Not the usual petty squabbles of skipping work for a day or two to commit suicide or do some boring things, but a complete and traceless evaporation.
At the time, Mori Ougai, considering Dazai's restless suicidal tendencies and the uniqueness of his body, had implanted a miniature locator in him—of course, Dazai Osamu knew about this (although Dazai didn't remember it, he felt he might have agreed to it in a dream, only to forget it upon waking)—with this, even if Dazai disappeared to do some random things, there wouldn't be any major problems (even if he suddenly became "idiotic," he could be found and brought back in time). But this time was different; the day after Dazai disappeared, his location signal also completely vanished from the map.
At first, Chuuya didn't pay much attention, thinking it was just Dazai playing some silly game of hide-and-seek. But as the time dragged on from days to weeks, months, and even approaching a year, even Mori Ougai sensed something was amiss. The Port Mafia's vast intelligence network was operating at full capacity, searching every corner of Yokohama and beyond.
The result was fruitless. Dazai Osamu, along with all traces of his existence, vanished, as if he had never been born. There were no warnings, no farewells, no corpses, no enemies' boasts, not even a trace of struggle.
Chuuya Nakahara hadn't thought that someone like Osamu Dazai could disappear so silently, or rather, he'd never even considered it. Even in death, Dazai seemed to leave a lasting impression. He'd imagined countless times Dazai dying at his hands, or in other ways. None of those things included a quiet, unnoticed death.
Yes, he died. He vanished without warning, just a few days ago they were talking about the mission. Nothing new happened, it was the same time as always.
The two guys who could be considered Dazai Osamu's friends both said they hadn't seen that bastard. Dazai Osamu just disappeared from everyone's lives without any warning.
Mori Ōgai had once speculated meaningfully that unless a major upheaval occurred that could overturn the very foundation of Dazai Osamu's existence, he would never voluntarily leave the Port Mafia. However, in the days leading up to his disappearance, all was calm; nothing that could be considered a major upheaval occurred. If it were a revenge killing, the enemy would have already made a grand announcement to the world if they had silently eliminated one of the "Double Blacks," Dazai Osamu. But nothing happened; no news of him emerged.
In the end, the Port Mafia erected a cenotaph for Osamu Dazai. Beneath the cold stone tombstone in the cemetery, buried were only his old bandages and a faded black suit jacket. Everyone who had ever crossed paths with him would visit that spot for a while on a fixed day each year, including Chuuya Nakahara.
“The last time I visited your grave, you suddenly appeared for a moment and then disappeared. I thought it was a ghost. But that night, after I went to sleep, I seemed to dream that you were calling me, just like I told you at the beginning. When I woke up, I was in this world.” He said this.
Dazai had once said things like, "If I die and become a ghost, I'll go to Chuuya's house day and night to scare you," but until Dazai disappeared, and even after seeing his ghost, Chuuya Nakahara was never frightened by any so-called supernatural events. Sometimes he'd wondered if Dazai had found someone else easy to scare and therefore no longer wanted to come looking for him. But all that was now lost to history, and he hadn't bothered to investigate the origins of those thoughts.
Just when Chuuya thought that life would continue like this, a turning point suddenly appeared: he woke up one morning to find that he had transmigrated.
“Then,” he leaned forward slightly, with a sense of declaration, “I met Dazai Osamu of this world. That guy rattled off a bunch of theories that I only half understood, and finally told me that he had mastered a method that could send me back. And…” Chuuya’s gaze fell tangibly on the top of Dazai Osamu’s slightly lowered head, “…maybe it will even let me see the person I really want to see.”
Chuuya's words were loaded with meaning; though not explicitly stated, Dazai Osamu understood. His eyes were lowered, his thick eyelashes casting small shadows on his pale cheeks, his gaze vacant as he stared at the pristine white bedding, seemingly lost in thought. But Chuuya knew he was listening.
However, what Dazai didn't know was that his originally pale skin was now being subtly covered by a very faint yet unusually noticeable pink, starting from his ears and spreading down his cheeks. This unusual color was impossible to hide under the cold white light of the hospital room.
Chuuya Nakahara's voice slowly fell silent. He stopped speaking, but stared intently at Dazai with his cobalt blue eyes, his gaze filled with undisguised surprise and inquiry as he looked at the rare blush on Dazai Osamu's face.
For a moment, only the soft breathing of the two remained in the ward. Chuuya Nakahara wondered why the other had such an expression. Was it anger at having his thoughts exposed, or some deeper feeling, one that even he himself hadn't realized... embarrassment?
Every aspect of it is amazing.
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Author's Note: Celebrating reaching 2000 favorites! Thank you all for your support! So today's post is a two-part celebration, hope you enjoy it! [hugs]
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