Chapter 36: The Double Black
As the snowflakes landed on his eyelashes, the biting cold wind easily penetrated Dazai's thin clothes, causing him to shiver slightly.
He raised his hand and wiped his face, his palm damp with melted snow. The snow seemed to be falling heavier than before.
If he hadn't found shelter in time and remained in this frigid outdoors, it would have been a pipe dream for an ordinary person to withstand such extreme cold. Dazai thought that perhaps tomorrow he would become one of those nameless people whose bizarre death was reported in the newspapers, frozen to death on a summer night in the middle of the night.
But he really has nowhere to go now.
No, that's not entirely true. He could simply turn around, walk a few meters forward, enter the apartment building, take the elevator upstairs, turn left to the end, knock a few times, or use a wire to turn the keyhole a few times—he could open it in three seconds—and get back to Chuuya Nakahara's room.
But he won't turn around.
The unusual snowfall seems to indicate that certain parts of this world are also unusual, and even without the existence of supernatural abilities, there are some fundamental differences between this world and his.
He knew that one day he would leave this world, just as he had left the previous one without warning. Everything else that happened in the meantime, whether encounters or partings, was merely a prelude to the end, a pastime.
He won't choose to return to Chuuya's house, which means he will continue on his way. What happens next, we'll leave it to the unknown ahead.
With these jumbled thoughts in mind, Dazai took a step forward, one step, two steps. His cold leather shoes clattered on the wet ground, occasionally splashing tiny droplets of water. The whole world seemed to be muted, almost completely silent. He could only hear his own slightly rapid breathing, the monotonous repetition of his footsteps, and the soft rustling of his clothes—all sounds seemed amplified a thousand times in this environment.
Then suddenly another series of footsteps came from behind, very hurried, and seemingly a little unsteady, as if they had run too fast and hadn't had time to stop.
Dazai's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment. He felt a harmless gaze on him from behind, but he didn't turn around. It might be a latecomer, or perhaps another unlucky soul trapped by this awful weather. At this hour on this street, encountering another living being was certainly worth a second glance. With that thought in mind, he continued walking.
The cicadas' chirping and humid wind that should accompany a midsummer night have transformed into out-of-season snowflakes. Dazai Osamu's breath condensed into white mist upon contact with the cold air, only to be swept away by the wind and scattered into the dark alleyway in the distance.
It's getting colder and colder, so cold that it feels like my brain is being frozen, and my thinking is being forced to stop.
Then suddenly someone grabbed my wrist.
The man's strength wasn't great, but it was steady, carrying an unyielding stubbornness. Dazai had to stop in his tracks; snow fell on his hair, accumulating into a small, inconspicuous tuft of white.
Dazai turned to the side and looked at the person who had grabbed him—ah, it was Chuuya.
He tilted his head and called out in a puzzled voice, "...Chuuya?"
There stood Chuuya Nakahara, wearing short-sleeved pajamas, panting heavily, his face flushed from exercise. He had clearly run all the way from the apartment building entrance in the distance.
"You idiot... what's wrong with you, staying up all night?" He grabbed Dazai's wrist and pulled him back, his grip tight, like a dog owner pulling on a leash. "Is getting soaked in the snow fun?"
Dazai glanced down at the spot where his hand was being gripped. Chuuya's hand was warm, carrying a hint of body heat, which dispelled some of the chill from his wrist. But he didn't like this association, because he wasn't a puppy; the roles he and Chuuya represented now should be reversed.
So he said, "Chuuye, isn't it? Why are you out here so late at night instead of sleeping?" He tried to break free but couldn't, so he simply let the other person hold him. "Did you just run out here to catch me? Are you worried about me?"
"Huh? Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Nakahara Chuuya bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and explained in a hurried voice, "Don't overthink it. I just got up to get some water and found you weren't in bed. I figured you were up to no good, so I just came out to check!"
Why chase after him for such a ridiculous reason? They could have just pretended not to see him. Knowing him as well as Chuuya does, he should know he's not so easily frozen to death on the street. Why go to such lengths? He doesn't understand.
Dazai looked at his flushed cheeks—perhaps half from the cold and half from anger—and suddenly found it a little funny. This guy was always like that; his words of concern sounded like arguments, yet the barely concealed anxiety in his eyes couldn't be faked.
Despite his tough talk, Chuuya Nakahara didn't lessen his grip on Dazai as he pulled him back; in fact, he tightened his grip even more. "And if I remember correctly, your apartment is quite far from here, right? It's so late, and there aren't any taxis on the road. Are you planning to walk back on your own?"
"If you don't like my family, just say so. Why play these games?" As he spoke, a hint of displeasure appeared on Chuuya Nakahara's face.
Dazai Osamu did not answer him, but deliberately slowed his pace and drew out his words, saying, "Is Chuuya worried about me too?"
Chuuya Nakahara didn't understand why this guy kept asking the same question, but he didn't want to answer it for the time being. He paused, and his ears, which were already red from the cold wind, turned even redder.
"Stop being so presumptuous!" he roared, but pulled Dazai closer to him as if afraid he would be blown away by the wind. "You can talk about your complaints tomorrow. Now go back."
Dazai did not refute further.
He still didn't understand why Chuuya Nakahara was acting this way. Was he showing that he... cared about him? Or something else?
Everything before him—the unusually heavy snow in the height of summer, the scorching heat emanating from Chuuya's tight grip on his wrist—felt like something out of a bizarre dream. The snow was dream snow, and Chuuya himself was a phantom from a dream. This surreal scene, meant only for dreams, was unfolding before his very eyes.
“Damn Dazai…” Chuuya paused, seemingly feeling that what he was about to say was too blunt, but he still gritted his teeth and said it, “Don’t make me worry anymore.”
...Ah, Chuuya said that so easily.
Dazai Osamu knew that he had no room to refuse at this moment. Or rather, in the face of the other party's straightforward actions and words, any deliberate refusal would seem so pale.
He looked at Nakahara Chuuya walking ahead of him. The other man's hand was still gripping his wrist, pulling him forward without letting go, perhaps afraid he'd change his mind and run away, or for some other reason. Whatever the reason, Nakahara Chuuya didn't let go, holding on tightly. Even though both were wearing short sleeves, walking in the cold snow, Nakahara Chuuya's steps remained firm, without a trace of shivering, making Dazai feel much warmer.
There are clearly no superpowers in this world.
The snow didn't stop falling as it moved back; in fact, it seemed to be getting heavier, turning the streetlights into a hazy, warm yellow. Nakahara Chuuya strode ahead of him, not particularly tall, but his back was ramrod straight. Dazai followed his steps, precisely stepping on each of his footprints in the snow, and suddenly found the scene somewhat comical, almost laughable—he could easily overtake him with a few easy steps, yet he preferred to be led along, inching his way back.
However, Dazai did not do that, nor did he laugh out loud. He simply let the other person hold him and slowly followed behind him back to Chuuya's house.
Why try so hard to hold on to him instead of letting go? It would be much easier to do the latter.
This question lingered in Dazai's mind, but he still couldn't find the answer.
But... never mind. Dazai Osamu thought, the answer might not be so important, at least not now is the time to pursue it. For now... he could just let himself be, guided by this warm hand, finding a temporary place to belong.
And so they climbed the stairs again and returned to the closed door.
This time, Chuuya released Dazai's wrist, then took out his key, opened the door, and fumbled to turn on the entryway light. The warm yellow light instantly dispelled the cold and darkness outside, illuminating the lingering blush on Chuuya's face and a hint of barely perceptible fatigue.
Just when Dazai thought he could finally breathe a sigh of relief, Chuuya grabbed his wrist again and, without saying a word, pressed his finger onto the fingerprint scanner on the door lock.
Soon, a notification sound rang out indicating successful fingerprint registration.
"Hey, Chuuya? What does that mean?" Dazai raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
"Hmph," Chuuya released his grip, giving him a disgruntled look. "So that you won't go crazy again one night and run out and can't get back in, or break into my house and cause damage while I'm not home. Now that my address has been exposed to you, you troublemaker, the probability of that happening is practically 200%! Rather than letting you break my lock, I'll give you a legal way—of course, only when I'm home." His explanation was as awkward as ever, tinged with a hint of irritable disdain, but his actions were swift and decisive.
Dazai Osamu was stunned. The subtext of Chuuya's actions couldn't be clearer: he had implicitly acknowledged Dazai's right to enter this private space. Although the words were harsh, it was almost a form of acceptance and tacit approval.
"Oh dear~" Dazai quickly adjusted his expression, a mocking smile appearing on his face as usual. "Did Chuuya guess my intentions? It's rare for you to be so clever~ It seems that the little slug's brain can still work for an extra time in crucial moments."
It felt like he'd rediscovered a bit of the past, Dazai Osamu suddenly thought. He didn't understand why Nakahara Chuuya had suddenly changed, but it didn't matter; everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction.
"Shut up, you bastard!" As expected, Chuuya Nakahara delivered a light but firm elbow strike to Chuuya's ribs, just enough for him to grunt in pain. "You bastard, I knew you'd do something like this."
"By the way, Chuuya." After the two of them had changed into clean clothes, Dazai Osamu walked up to Nakahara Chuuya and casually brought up the unusual weather phenomenon, "Why is it snowing so heavily in the summer of July?" He observed Chuuya's reaction.
Chuuya Nakahara paused in his tidying, turned his head, and showed genuine confusion on his face: "Huh? What nonsense are you talking about? Of course it's winter now! And Christmas is just around the corner. Can't you even tell the difference, Dazai?" His tone was matter-of-fact, as if Dazai had asked an extremely stupid question.
Dazai Osamu felt a slight chill run down his spine, but on the surface he only let out a puzzled "Ah," Chuuya's reaction... was too natural. This complete lack of awareness of the "abnormality" precisely proved that this "abnormality" was a widely recognized normalcy in this world.
Clearly, Chuuya Nakahara has been completely assimilated by certain rules of this world.
"Don't you find it strange, Chuuya? It feels like it's only been a short while since the start of summer, and the calendar hasn't turned many pages, but time seems to have been fast-forwarded, skipping the entire autumn and suddenly entering the depths of winter... Doesn't this seem very illogical?" Dazai didn't give up and probed further, his tone carrying a persuasive tone.
Chuuya frowned, pondering Dazai's words for a moment. For a fleeting instant, a barely perceptible look of confusion crossed his azure eyes, as if Dazai's words did indeed make some sense. But quickly, this slight bewilderment was overshadowed by his deeply ingrained understanding. He shook his head, looking at Dazai with an expression that said, "You've definitely lost your mind."
“Autumn? Autumn certainly doesn’t skip over. After Christmas, after the New Year, the weather warms up for a while, and then… um,” he struggled to organize his thoughts, trying to explain what seemed to him to be a perfectly normal cycle, “then there will be another autumn, so what are you worrying about?”
Clearly, in this world, the concept and operating rules of seasons are fundamentally different from the common sense that Dazai knows, and Chuuya has long been accustomed to this, and cannot even understand Dazai's confusion.
Dazai Osamu stared at Chuuya's matter-of-fact expression, remaining silent for a few seconds. He didn't know if this subtle influence from the world's rules was a bad thing, but for him at this moment, further investigation seemed pointless. So he smiled lightly, shrugged, and said, "It's nothing, he's probably just frozen out. I wish the heating was on a bit more, Chuuya."
He was half-pushed and half-forced by Chuuya to the guest room. Under Chuuya's watchful gaze, he obediently sat on the edge of the bed, with a penguin plush toy about half his height stuffed into his hand. It looked a bit old but was very soft. Chuuya had found it in the closet, ostensibly to make the toy watch over him so he wouldn't run away and would sleep obediently.
How childish.
Dazai looked at the penguin in his arms with a blank expression and thought to himself. But before Chuuya left, he obediently hugged the plush toy tighter, shrinking into the blankets and only revealing his iris-colored eyes. He didn't miss the uncontrollable smile that appeared on Chuuya's face when he saw this.
In the end, Dazai Osamu lay down on this bed that wasn't his, yet still held a faint sense of familiarity. From the next room came the sound of Chuuya moving about, deliberately quiet but still faintly audible, followed by the sound of a light being turned off. The world fell silent again, with only the howling of the wind and snow outside the window.
His consciousness began to uncontrollably sink into the abyss of dreams, and he felt his soul floating and sinking in the darkness. In his hazy state, countless chaotic thoughts flashed through his mind uncontrollably.
Am I dreaming? It seems so... He's all alone. His eyes are completely closed, and he's fallen back into those familiar, suffocating nihilistic thoughts.
Is he dreaming? Is he really dreaming now? If he opens his eyes, will he be all alone again, or will everything have remained the same, and it's all just his illusion?
Did he really time travel, or was he just dreaming?
A jumble of self-doubting thoughts proliferated wildly on the edge of his half-awake, half-asleep state, plunging Dazai Osamu into a chaotic state of being torn apart by his soul.
Then, just as his consciousness was about to completely sink, he suddenly felt someone shaking him.
"...Hey, Dazai, Dazai! Wake up!"
In a daze, he was pulled back to consciousness by being called. He struggled to open his heavy eyelids, his vision blurry for a few seconds before gradually clearing. There he saw Chuuya Nakahara's face magnified in front of him. At that moment, they were so close that they could almost feel each other's warm breath.
"You idiot, did you have a nightmare? You kept talking in your sleep and looked terribly uncomfortable, so I woke you up." Chuuya seemed relieved when he saw him open his eyes, but his brows were still furrowed, and his tone was a little impatient, but the concern in his eyes could not be hidden.
Dazai Osamu was still somewhat dazed, but he could still remember that he had clearly closed the door before going to sleep. Moreover, the soundproofing of this room shouldn't be so bad that the people in the next room could hear his indistinct murmurs in his sleep.
So, did Zhong come in secretly to check on him on purpose? To make sure he was sleeping peacefully, or... was he also driven by some inexplicable premonition?
Dazai Osamu stared at Chuuya's face, which was so close to his own. In those bright blue eyes, which were still bright even in the dim light, was reflected his own somewhat pale appearance.
That's strange, Chuuya.
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The author's note: Actually, from each other's perspective, the two people might both seem a little strange.
OMG, the plot suddenly popped into my head while I was writing it, and it made me feel inexplicably like all of this might have already happened.
Modifications in other languages cannot change the general direction of things; that's roughly the feeling.
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