Chapter 44: The Double Black
The following afternoon in Yokohama.
Dazai Osamu, who had received a summons from the leader, waited in front of the office door, simply because Mori Ougai had said on the phone that Nakahara Chuuya would also be summoned here.
His eyes were vacant, and he began to count down in his mind.
10, 9, 8... 3, 2, 1 —
The soft sound of leather shoes on the carpet came from beside him. Dazai Osamu turned his head and saw Chuuya, who looked even more youthful than in his latest memory, walking towards him. A faint smile unconsciously appeared in his eyes as he watched him.
In the top-floor office of the Port Black Building, Mori Ougai stood before the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city he loved. His fingertips tapped lightly on the window frame, as if weighing something.
"Rintaro, are you worried?" Alice sat on her special sofa, swinging her legs, holding a newly acquired exquisite doll in her arms.
“Well, saying I’m worried might not be quite accurate,” Mori Ougai turned around with an enigmatic smile on his face. “I’m just putting the two already tempered gems back into the furnace to see if they will shine even brighter, or… if unexpected cracks will appear.”
He walked back to his desk and pressed the internal communication button. "Let Dazai-kun and Chuuya-kun in."
The door was pushed open, and Nakahara Chuuya entered first. This sixteen-year-old boy carried a soul that had weathered many storms.
He pulled down the brim of his hat, his sharp, steady blue eyes contrasting subtly with his somewhat youthful appearance.
Following closely behind was Osamu Dazai, who walked briskly, humming an off-key tune, but his iris-colored eyes revealed no emotion.
"Chief." The two spoke at the same time, one voice clear and crisp, the other lazy and drawn-out.
Mori Ougai crossed his hands under his chin, his gaze sweeping over the two men as if admiring two interesting collectibles.
"The Yamaguchi-gumi has been acting strangely lately; they hijacked a shipment of weapons from us. Go and dispose of them. Recover any resources you can; otherwise, destroy them. The location and intelligence are here." He pushed a thin folder over.
The task is simple. At least for the two Black players at this point, it's far too simple.
Chu also took the folder, quickly glanced at it, and nodded.
"Understood, Chief."
Dazai Osamu tilted his head, as if he had discovered something interesting, and said with a smile, "Mr. Mori, do we really need to send Chuuya and me to deal with such a minor character?"
"Could it be that you want to see a touching scene of our long-awaited reunion?" His tone carried his usual mockery, but his gaze drifted almost imperceptibly towards Chuuya beside him as he whispered something. Chuuya, standing next to him, understood the words perfectly, causing a vein to throb on his forehead, but he couldn't react immediately due to the situation.
Mori Ougai smiled but did not answer, only waving his hand.
"Go quickly and come back quickly, and remember to submit the mission report on time."
As they left the leader's office, the sound of their uneven footsteps echoed down the corridor.
"Hey, Dazai," Chuuya broke the silence first, his brows furrowing slightly, "what did you mean by what you just said in front of the leader?"
“Literal meaning, chuuya.” Dazai Osamu shrugged. “I feel like there’s a familiar yet nauseating stickiness in the air today. Probably because I’m going to be paired with a slug.”
"Do you want to die, you bastard Dazai!" Chuuya's anger was easily ignited, but that rising anger was quickly suppressed by something deeper, turning into a cold snort, "I'm too lazy to waste words with you, see you at the mission location."
They agreed to meet at a secluded intersection near their mission objective. Dazai Osamu emerged from a black sedan; the driver, a low-ranking member of the Port Mafia, looked at him with barely concealed fear. Dazai was already used to this, and even somewhat enjoyed the atmosphere.
His gaze was quickly drawn to the scene by the roadside. Chuuya Nakahara was straddling his brand-new motorcycle, one foot on the ground for support. His sixteen-year-old body had not yet fully grown, and against the backdrop of the massive motorcycle, he appeared even more slender, even somewhat petite.
An indescribable emotion welled up in Dazai Osamu's heart. It was not simply mockery, but a mixture of nostalgia and a faint, almost imperceptible sense of comfort.
It's been a long time since I've experienced something like this—working on a mission with Chuuya.
In the previous ordinary world without superpowers, he spent a few relatively peaceful years with Chuuya as an ordinary person. Those memories, though clear, felt like a lifetime ago. As for the world before that, and the very first life, the memories and emotions there had long been eroded and blurred by time.
Although this body was only sixteen years old, its soul was already riddled with holes. Having only been awakened in this world for a few days and not yet fully sorted out its thoughts, it was thrust in front of Chuuya. However, the expected sense of unfamiliarity did not appear. The moment it saw this guy, an almost instinctive sense of familiarity arose spontaneously. All interactions were natural and just like before, as if the misaligned time and space in between had never existed.
Deep within that body wrapped in heavy bandages and a fake smile, a slight excitement quietly arose, only to be quickly suppressed. Dazai looked at the still somewhat immature yet composed face before him, blinked, and then greeted him in an extremely natural yet deliberately drawn-out tone: "Hi—Chuuya. Long time no see, you've gotten quite a bit shorter."
中原中也甚至连头都懒得回，光凭那欠揍的声线和语调，就能百分百确定身后的人是谁。他啧了一声，没好气地回道：“啊，你在说什么啊混蛋，我还在生长期呢！”他的反驳带着少年人的冲劲，但语气深处却缺乏一种真正的恼怒，更像是一种习惯性的应对。
“I’ve already heard from Mori-san,” Dazai Osamu’s tone suddenly shifted, from casual to almost serious. “About your situation.” He deliberately emphasized the word “situation” while observing Chuuya’s reaction. “I’m basically aware of the details of the upcoming mission, but I have a personal curiosity that I need to confirm with the person involved.”
Chuuya Nakahara's previously relaxed back tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment. He hummed in agreement, awaiting further instructions. He assumed Dazai would inquire about the mission, or about his unusual behavior over the past few days.
"The future Chuuya," Dazai Osamu's voice carried a probing tone as he slowly and deliberately asked, "shouldn't he... finally shed his miniature puppy image and grow into a tall, presentable man by now?"
"Huh?!" Chuuya Nakahara turned his head sharply, his cobalt blue eyes filled with disbelief. He had prepared himself for all sorts of questioning, even rehearsing several answers in his mind, but after waiting for so long, all he got was this utterly childish nonsense. However, the self-control of a mature soul quickly suppressed the urge to smash the motorcycle he was riding on the other person's head.
He simply glared at Dazai, then turned around decisively, started his motorcycle, and used his actions to show his refusal to communicate.
The locomotive roared, but did not move forward.
As expected, there was no reply. Dazai Osamu watched Chuuya's refusal to communicate, a slight smile playing on his lips. He took a few steps closer to the motorcycle and began to employ his usual tactics of persistent pleading.
"Chuuya~ Give me a ride." Dazai Osamu said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Look, my car has already gone back. We're still quite a distance from here to the mission location. Can you really bear to let your weak and helpless partner walk there?"
“Take a taxi yourself, or walk there with your two long, thin legs.” Chuuya refused without hesitation.
“But Chuuya’s motorcycle looks so fast and exciting.” Dazai Osamu’s fingers secretly pinched the edge of Chuuya’s leather jacket and rubbed it with a light touch that was hard to detect.
"Chuuya must drive really fast, right? If he throws me off because he's going too fast, and then I unfortunately get run over by a truck, or get my head smashed by a rock on the ground... well, that would be considered being killed by Chuuya. Wow, just imagine, [the Port Mafia's Gravity Manipulator personally murdering his partner], what a romantic way to die."
As he spoke, he pressed his advantage and moved even closer. Seeing that she didn't firmly refuse him, she naturally sat down.
The motorcycle seat wasn't spacious to begin with, and he was practically pressed against Chuuya's back. Chuuya's unruly ochre hair swayed slightly in the wind, occasionally brushing against Dazai Osamu's cheek, causing a slightly itchy sensation.
Even stronger was the unique scent emanating from Chuuya Nakahara—not perfume, but a scent that defied description. Even when Chuuya was completely wrapped in an airtight protective suit, he could instantly recognize the other person by that scent alone; it was just that familiar.
How strange, why do I suddenly want to get this close?
Perhaps it was a sudden recollection of a past life, or perhaps the previous world could be considered a past life. In the final moments, Chuuya and Chuuya didn't have a proper chance to say goodbye, and the last thing they saw was a corpse.
Suddenly, he saw Chuuya alive again, so he couldn't help but want to get closer to confirm if it was real.
"What nonsense are you spouting? Why are you acting so strangely today?" Chuuya felt the heat source close behind him and felt uncomfortable, yet for some reason, he didn't immediately push Dazai away. This level of Dazai Osamu, while annoying, also inexplicably carried a feeling that was... indescribable.
A small smile appeared on Dazai Osamu's face. He leaned comfortably against the wind, then suddenly shouted loudly in Chuuya's ear, "It's because I had another dream about Chuuya, a really—outrageous one! I dreamt that we were on a secret mission together on a luxury ship, and then you just threw me overboard without a second thought! You left me to slumber alone in the cold, dark seabed, and then I woke up with a start. You really went too far, Chuuya!"
"Hey! What does my dream have to do with me?!" Chuuya Nakahara was so angry at being accused like that that he almost lost his grip on the handlebars. "It's not like I did anything by entering your twisted dream. Don't just label people like that, you bastard!"
The wind whistled past his ears as the motorcycle nimbly weaved through the streets. Chuuya Nakahara, while maneuvering the motorcycle, inwardly grumbled, wondering how he'd somehow ended up getting hitchhiked by this guy again. This guy's twisted logic always had a strangely persuasive quality.
“Chuuya…” Dazai Osamu’s voice suddenly lowered, almost whispering close to Chuuya’s ear. The rest of his words were broken and indistinct in the wind, leaving only a breathy trailing tone. “I…”
"What did you say? Speak louder, I can't hear you!" Chuuya frowned and raised his voice.
"No, it's nothing~" Dazai Osamu's voice instantly returned to its usual lightness, as if the whisper just now was just an illusion. "I feel like I'm about to be thrown out, Chuuya. Faster!" His smile widened, his eyes narrowing into two curved slits. He released his hands from Chuuya's waist, stretching them outwards as if embracing the raging wind, the wide sleeves of his suit fluttering in the wind.
Because of his presence, Nakahara Chung was unable to use his supernatural abilities to accelerate in his car at will. He could only rely on pure driving skills to carry this troublesome man at a high speed, yet still manage to drive smoothly towards his destination.
The Yamaguchi-gumi's stronghold was an abandoned warehouse.
The mission itself was unremarkable. The information indicated that this organization was a fairly well-established entity; otherwise, they wouldn't have dared to steal from the Port Mafia right under its nose. If it were the real sixteen-year-old Double Black, perhaps a prolonged struggle, verbal provocation, and a period of tacit understanding would be needed to unleash their full power. But at this moment, the mission was carried out by two beings with adult souls who were intimately familiar with each other's fighting styles, as if they were breathing.
No need for much communication, not even eye contact. Chuuya Nakahara's gravity manipulation was extremely precise, like a red meteor raging through the warehouse, each landing accompanied by the collapse of a section of the building and the screams of the enemies.
Dazai Osamu, on the other hand, moved like a ghost through the shadows and chaos. His physical skills might not be as good as Chuuya's, but his all-seeing mind and the ability of "No Longer Human" allowed him to always appear at the most crucial position, easily dismantling the futile struggles of the opponent's ability user with a light touch, or taking out the gunman who tried to sneak up with a precise shot.
Destruction, suppression, and cleanup. The entire process was swift, efficient, and astonishingly so. The Hong Kong Mafia suffered zero casualties, the enemy was completely annihilated, and, as Mori Ōgai had hoped, most of the looted military resources were recovered.
Dazai Osamu stood in the center of the ravaged warehouse, watching Nakahara Chuuya slowly descend from the sky. Strands of his ochre hair fluttered slightly in the rising dust, his blue eyes calmly scanning the battlefield. He liked this feeling—not the destruction itself, but the unspoken understanding. A tiny movement, a casual pause, and the other would immediately grasp its meaning and execute a perfect coordination.
Everything is going so smoothly.
The mission, from start to finish, took less than half a day. The subsequent cleanup was handled by the mafia's logistics personnel. As is customary, the mission report required joint completion by both parties involved.
"Hey, Dazai, time to go back and write your report," Chuuya said, dusting himself off.
Dazai Osamu immediately put on a disgusted expression and drawled, "Eh—no way, this kind of paperwork is so boring. Chuuya, you can write it, your handwriting is nicer."
"Stop with that, you're always trying to slack off!" Chuuya glared at him, the words slipping out naturally.
Every time, right?
Dazai Osamu's eyes darted around, and he suddenly leaned closer. He moved with lightning speed; before Chuuya could react, Dazai had already hooked his arm around Chuuya's neck, pulling them so close that their noses were almost touching. Chuuya could clearly see Dazai's long eyelashes and his own shrunken reflection in those iris-colored eyes.
"Please, Chuuya—" Dazai Osamu lowered his voice and whispered in Chuuya's ear in an almost breathy tone with a subtle hint of coquetry, "I know you can do a great job, you're the most reliable!" His warm breath brushed against Chuuya's earlobe, bringing an undeniable ticklish sensation that made his muscles stiffen instantly, and his mind seemed to go blank for a few seconds.
When he came to his senses, he abruptly pushed Dazai Osamu away, his ears turning a faint red, and he stammered, "Why are you so close! It's not like I can't hear you!"
Turning his head, he met Dazai Osamu's deliberately wide-open eyes, brimming with anticipation. That already striking face, amplified by those starry eyes at such close range, was incredibly captivating. Chuuya felt a little dizzy, inwardly cursing the bastard for abusing his good looks again, but his words involuntarily softened: "...Okay, okay! Enough with the nagging, just this once!"
Dazai Osamu's face immediately lit up with a triumphant, radiant smile, like a cat that had successfully stolen some fish. "Then thank you, Chuuya~" He waved, turned around, humming a tune, and left lightly, leaving all the follow-up work to Chuuya, who was standing there somewhat annoyed but helpless.
Once Dazai Osamu's figure disappeared from sight, Nakahara Chuuya raised his hand to touch his still slightly flushed cheeks, muttering under his breath, "That bastard... what's wrong with him today?"
That familiar intimacy, those meaningful yet ambiguous words, all exuded an unusual aura. But he secretly suppressed any further inquiry.
He had only been back in this world for a few days, and before that, he had not officially met Dazai Osamu of this world—until just now, which could be considered their first meeting in this timeline. But the deep familiarity between their souls made that inexplicable sense of familiarity seem natural, and he attributed it all to the natural reaction of "seeing his partner from his youth," without, or rather, without wanting to delve into the underlying reasons.
After parting ways with Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara did not immediately return to the Port Mafia headquarters to write the report that had been forced upon him. He rode his motorcycle aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama for a while before finally stopping in front of a familiar apartment building.
He looked up, and the windows of the apartment where he lived when he was 16 were pitch black. But upstairs, from where Ah-Dai-Niao lived, he could faintly hear music and noise. The sounds kept assaulting his eardrums and his long-forgotten memories.
When he returned to this world, memories of the past gradually resurfaced. He clearly remembered the last day he spent with his friends, the frozen expressions on their faces, and the dimly lit space stained with blood. Those images often surfaced in the stillness of the night.
He strolled upstairs and stood outside Ah-Dai-Niao's door. After hesitating for a few seconds, he reached out, clenched his fist, and finally chose to knock gently on the door with a force that wasn't too rough.
The music and noise inside the door stopped abruptly.
Silence reigned, and no one responded. But the door opened silently a crack, letting in no light whatsoever; the darkness was tangible, conveying a silent invitation.
Chuuya Nakahara frowned slightly, but without much hesitation, he pushed open the door.
The instant the door opened, a cold, hard object pressed against his forehead. It wasn't particularly sharp, but the metallic scent and smell of gunpowder instantly awakened his fighting instincts. He made no further movement, simply standing there silently; no one spoke first.
Immediately afterwards, a sharp "snap!" was heard, and the room was suddenly illuminated by blinding lights. At the same time, the weapon that had been on her forehead slid off—several colorful decorative ribbons.
Chuuya Nakahara's expression remained largely unchanged, but a barely perceptible smile flickered in his blue eyes. His tense shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly.
Then, Ah-Dai-Niao, holding a gun-shaped firecracker, beamed with surprise and a triumphant smile: "Surprise! Chuuya! You've finally agreed to come to my drinking party?" He shook the obviously expensive bottle in his hand.
“No,” Chuuya Nakahara refused decisively, but his tone was not harsh. “I can’t drink alcohol yet.”
His gaze swept across the room. The doctor—the medical director of the Hong Kong Mafia and a member of the Flag Society—was leaning against the wall, his slender fingers still resting on the light switch. He wore his usual sinister smile and spoke in that deliberate, unhurried tone, “Underage…you can drink, you know, Chuuya. Alcohol is a great tranquilizer and a forget-me-not, hehe.”
Tonight, only Ah-Dai-Niao and the doctor were in his room, engaged in their usual activities, when an unexpected guest arrived—Nakahara Chuuya. However, they noticed him as he approached the door.
Neither of them showed it outwardly, but both were inwardly curious about the other's intentions. Adobird even started imagining things—was Chuuya finally fed up with the noise and coming to punish them? Or had he had a terrible nightmare and came to ask for a hug? (This thought made him laugh at himself.)
Or...did you encounter some trouble?
All sorts of random thoughts popped into his mind, and he asked them out loud, only to be refuted by Chuuya.
"Wow, I thought you'd jump up and punch me when you heard the word 'nightmare.'" Ado Bird put down the confetti cannon, moved closer, and his playful expression softened, replaced by concern. "So, what happened, Chuuya? Judging from your expression, you don't seem like someone who just came to drop by."
In Chuuya Nakahara's mind, certain memories began to surface uncontrollably—the bloodless faces of his friends in the dimly lit billiards bar. Those somber, cold images gradually overlapped with the two vivid, lively faces before him, faces filled with concern and confusion. Both were incredibly real, tearing at his heart.
Should I speak of it? Should I tell them about that heavy tragedy about the future?
He hesitated for a moment, even considering his friend's answer: "Once you become a member of the Mafia, you're prepared to lose your life."
In the end, the words that were already on the tip of his tongue were swallowed back down. It was better for him to bear these heavy burdens alone.
At least in this world, he would never allow those things to happen again. Moreover, prematurely revealing the future might cause unpredictable butterfly effects, leading to even worse consequences.
He dared not take the risk.
So, in the end, he could only offer a somewhat awkward explanation: "No, it's nothing. It's just... it feels like it's been a long time since we last met."
"That's really unusual, Chuuya." Adoko stroked his chin, scrutinizing him closely. "It's only been less than a week since we last met at the training ground, yet he's saying something like that... So something really must have happened, right?" His eyes sharpened.
The doctor added quietly, "It's okay to say it... even if it sounds silly, we won't laugh at you... probably." His somber tone was unusually devoid of mockery, instead carrying an awkward concern typical of an older person.
But Chuuya Nakahara simply shook his head, easily changing the subject with a few complaints about the mission and Osamu Dazai. He skillfully acted like a typical 16-year-old boy, hiding his deep pain and determination deep inside.
The two members of the flag exchanged a glance and didn't press the matter further, but both secretly noted the other's unusual behavior. They decided to find an opportunity to properly "interrogate" Chuuya together with the other members.
After staying a while longer and exchanging a few teasing remarks, Chuuya Nakahara got up to take his leave.
He went downstairs and returned to his own room. This was his room when he was 16, and it was as cold and deserted as he remembered, with almost no decorations except for the most basic furniture.
He walked to the wall and opened the safe hidden in the shadows. Inside were some confidential documents and some gems he had privately collected.
Chuuya Nakahara picked up a deep blue sapphire and held it up to the light, watching the brilliant fire it refracted in his palm.
He couldn't remember when he acquired the gems, and perhaps they had long since accumulated to an unknown location. But for someone his age, they were still at the level where they needed to be kept in a bedroom safe.
He never dreamed, and he never understood what it was like for others to dream, but now he does. The act of going back to the past itself is like an indescribable dream, real to the touch yet always carrying a certain illusory quality.
His memories of that world without superpowers were gradually becoming blurry, and he could hardly recall many details. Meanwhile, the distant memories of his first life were becoming increasingly clear after he arrived in this world.
Suddenly, he thought of Dazai again. Today was their first meeting (for him, it was their first meeting after transmigrating). This Dazai was probably a different person from the previous one, but before he could say goodbye to that guy, he was caught off guard and left that world.
I wonder how that guy is doing now, and whether he'll have the chance to come to this world like me. But seeing what he looked like in the past is quite novel.
He didn't know if he would leave just as suddenly as he had arrived. But before leaving, he wanted to accomplish some things he had envisioned countless times but could never have done again. Regret might be unavoidable, but he could minimize its impact with everything he knew.
With this thought in mind, I spent my days like this, until the expected accident happened.
Lost in thought, Chuuya Nakahara put the gem back in its place and closed the safe. He walked to the window and looked at the night view of Yokohama outside.
Neon lights flashed, and cars streamed by. The city's darkness and light intertwined, a street scene he had seen countless times.
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Author's Note: Patch:
① In fact, if two people return to their teenage years, their temperament will be partially influenced by their physical state.
②The novel doesn't mention that 16 people ride motorcycles. Here, it's set up that 16 people are used to motorcycles, so they buy a new one. The one they used to ride is still in A-Dai Bird's garage (if I remember correctly, it should be A-Dai Bird).
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