Chapter 47: The Double Black
Chuuya Nakahara stood before the full-length mirror, raising his hand to adjust the brim of his hat, his fingertips lingering on the edge for a few seconds longer than usual. This wasn't the relic from Rimbaud—that hat with special significance lay quietly in the Port Mafia's most secret vault. Mori Ougai had suggested removing the hat directly to allow him more freedom in utilizing its contained abilities, but Chuuya Nakahara had firmly rejected this suggestion.
He explained that Verlaine's first target upon arriving in Japan was that hat. Any rash action at that point would only alert the man and alert him to their presence. Therefore, the hat's location remained unchanged. The elements capable of replicating the hat's unique material were currently only in the hands of N, and this cunning scientist had hidden himself deep underground in Yokohama, making him virtually untraceable to ordinary people.
Meanwhile, he was making outward preparations for the upcoming transaction. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the ordinary black hat he was wearing, thinking that there was still about a month left until his one-year anniversary in the Hong Kong underworld.
Planning for Verlaine and other potential threats is being carried out secretly and intensively. This impending disaster is known only to a very few people at the top of the organization, while the vast majority of members are completely unaware of it and continue to carry out their daily tasks as usual.
Meanwhile, on the edge of the rooftop of the Port Mafia headquarters, Dazai Osamu stood dozens of meters above, looking down. His black trench coat fluttered in the strong wind, and strands of hair flew wildly around his eyes. From this height, the people walking on the street appeared as moving black dots, inching in all directions like ants. Dazai's gaze swept indifferently over these tiny figures; he was already accustomed to this superior perspective, just as he was accustomed to the omnipresent emptiness in life.
He looked up at the sky shrouded in dark clouds. The thick clouds completely blocked out the sunlight, making it as dark as night, even though it was daytime. This kind of weather always reminded him of things from long ago—similar overcast days he had experienced in different times and places. Among the pedestrians downstairs, probably no one would imagine that their lives might end tomorrow. And that end might just be a matter of a single thought from him.
Thinking this, a faint, bitter smile appeared on Dazai Osamu's lips. How tragic, but sacrifice was always unavoidable for the plan to succeed. When necessary, even his own life could be used as a bargaining chip. After all, he would most likely have the chance to open his eyes again—and perhaps he could use that to achieve the death he had long awaited.
However, it was really exhausting.
His hair flew wildly in the wind, partially obscuring his vision. He gazed at the blurry horizon in the distance, his thoughts not lingering on any specific person or event. Even after countless reincarnations, certain things remained unavoidable; these repetitions merely gave him more opportunities to correct his mistakes.
But if those who experience all of this he planned are no longer the people from his memories, then what is the point of these attempts? The deceased remain forever in the past, and those who seek death should be properly buried at the bottom of the sea. Those who should never have met, forcibly breaking through the barriers of time and space to meet, may be paying an unknown price invisibly.
His time should have stopped several years ago, but to this day, the clock representing his life continues to tick abnormally. His eyes can still see the colors of the world normally, and he breathes without stopping. Although his temporary body has suffered countless devastating blows, his soul always manages to find a new resting place.
He has been in this world for several months now, though he hasn't counted the exact number—perhaps two or three months. No other consciousness has appeared within him, and no other being named "Dazai Osamu" with the nullification ability has emerged. He is certain that only he, Dazai Osamu, exists in this world.
Most of the tasks that needed to be completed in the near future have been arranged, and now all that's left is to wait for time to unfold. He has devised a meticulous plan and considered all possible unforeseen circumstances, so even without his personal presence, things can proceed as planned, with at most some minor setbacks—but as long as they can be resolved perfectly in the end, no one will likely mind.
Thinking about this, Dazai Osamu had to thank the other person he had met earlier for revealing many secrets about the future to him, which became an important reference for his plans.
Dazai Osamu had been standing on the edge of the rooftop for who knows how long. This was a spot rarely noticed, but occasionally it became an excellent sniping vantage point. Unfortunately, he had lost all desire for anything. The lurking ailments within him were like a time bomb, ready to explode at any moment, and having traversed too many worlds and witnessed a life far richer than his apparent age, he found it difficult to feel any interest in things of the past.
People were still walking around downstairs, and he was about to hold an event that no one had been notified of, so there were no security measures in place at the foot of the building. Looking to the left from where Dazai Osamu was, one could see the windows of the leader's office.
That window was always covered by heavy, dark curtains, making it impossible to see anything inside from the outside. Dazai Osamu's gaze lingered on that window for a moment before shifting away.
He slowly removed the bandage from his right cheek, revealing the intact skin underneath. He paused as he took a new bandage from his pocket, not immediately re-wrapping it, but instead taking out his phone and casually tapping the buttons a few times with his thumb, making a call.
"Beep beep beep—"
"Hey, what's up, Dazai?"
"Chuuya." Dazai Osamu held his phone between his neck and cheek, freeing his hands to begin wrapping new bandages around his right cheek. "Today is a good day."
"A cloudy sky can't be a good day, can it?"
They started chatting idly, just like countless times before.
"Really? I think it looks pretty good." Dazai Osamu's voice carried a subtle lightness. "If it rains later, could you bring me an umbrella?"
"Do you take me for your subordinate? You bastard Dazai. Goodbye." Chuuya Nakahara replied curtly, his tone carrying his usual impatience.
"Alright, alright, let's leave it at that for now, Chuuya."
Dazai Osamu didn't linger, simply saying goodbye, but Nakahara Chuuya on the other end of the phone keenly sensed something was amiss.
"Wait, what's wrong with you today? You sound a bit strange. Are you up to something again?" Chuuya's voice paused for a moment. "Or has something happened? Do you need my help, Dazai? Don't worry, I won't laugh at you."
Upon hearing this, Dazai Osamu lowered his eyes, chuckled softly a few times, but did not answer. The laughter was very soft, but when it reached Chuuya's ears through the receiver, it sounded as loud as a drumbeat. This calm laughter, devoid of any mischief or mockery, sounded perfectly normal, yet it made Chuuya feel inexplicably uneasy, prompting him to ask, "Dazai, where are you now? Tell me quickly."
"On...the rooftop."
Dazai Osamu spoke the last two words very softly, then hung up the phone and casually stuffed it back into his pocket. His gaze remained fixed on the distance, where nothing seemed amiss. He then turned around casually and looked up at the gray sky.
In the instant of the fall, the surrounding scenery distorted and warped in my vision due to the increased speed, turning into colorful threads that mingled into meaningless images. Sensing that my brain was nearing death, my body automatically activated a revolving lantern mode.
Memories buried deep in his mind surged forth like a tide, awakening both forgotten and unforgotten fragments in that instant. He saw his past, and the past of the past, people with similar faces but different experiences, who left their mark on his life, some deep, some shallow, before departing one after another.
Until the very end of his memory, the figure of Nakahara Chuuya, who was most deeply connected to him, appeared.
Nevertheless, he still held the belief that he didn't care if he died like this. However, just seconds before he was about to hit the ground, a familiar figure burst through the air at an astonishing speed, using the impact to kick him into the middle floor of the building.
Dazai Osamu's back slammed heavily against the wall, leaving a spiderweb-like crack. But his face showed no sign of pain—in fact, since entering this world, the pain he felt from injuries had indeed lessened considerably—a conclusion he reached after numerous experiments. This might be a side effect of traversing worlds, or something else entirely. Of course, he still hated pain.
At this moment, although he could feel some wounds on his body reopening and bleeding due to the impact, the pain was still within a tolerable range, so his expression was relatively relaxed.
"Are you out of your mind, you bastard? What's gotten into you all of a sudden today?"
Chuuya Nakahara's chest heaved violently, clearly indicating he had rushed over. He stood against the light, walking step by step toward Osamu Dazai, finally stopping a few steps away.
"What are you trying to do by not informing your subordinates to set up the air cushion, you bandage bastard? If I hadn't made it here today, you would really be dead, you know that?" Chuuya Nakahara's voice was filled with suppressed anger. He squatted down, grabbed Dazai Osamu's collar tightly, and said fiercely.
Dazai Osamu's expression didn't change much, but he focused his previously wandering gaze on Nakahara Chuuya. He stared into those cobalt blue eyes, those iris-colored eyes filled with emotions that Chuuya couldn't understand, making Chuuya feel a subtle clenching in his heart, a slight pain spreading throughout his body.
"But Chuuya still made it in the end, didn't he?"
Dazai's face was filled with an indescribable smile. Although Chuuya was holding tightly to the other's collar, he suddenly felt that this bastard was like a sand pile, as if he would be blown away by the wind.
He had no idea what this guy had been thinking all along. Every Dazai Osamu he had ever met gave him a mysterious and unpredictable feeling. But only this person in front of him, only this guy, was the only bastard who made him feel that he might disappear at any moment.
This had never happened before in their past interactions, nor even in his own childhood, this bastard partner had ever been so lifeless. Nakahara Chuu didn't know what was wrong with this guy, and he couldn't think of a solution for the moment. In the end, he could only clench his fist in helplessness and anger, and slam it hard against the wall next to Dazai's ear, leaving a new crack in the wall.
"You bastard, what exactly happened? Tell me, and I can help you solve it." Chuuya Nakahara said this again, then gritted his teeth and continued, "And remember this, you can only die by my hand! If you secretly die in some remote corner, I won't let you off easily."
Dazai Osamu couldn't help but laugh at these words. He remained leaning against the wall, and taking advantage of Nakahara Chuuya's squatting position, he unexpectedly reached out and stroked the other's soft hair, saying as he did so, "Good boy—good boy, good boy, Chuuya is truly my good puppy, always thinking of me, I'm so touched~"
Chuuya's eyes widened at Dazai's sudden action. His round blue eyes stared at Dazai, then he frowned and released his grip on Dazai's collar, intending to slap away the hand that was still stroking his head. However, he missed, as Dazai had anticipated his move and had withdrawn his hand.
"Damn it!" Chuuya gritted his teeth, then delivered a heavy elbow strike to Dazai. Due to his limited position, Dazai couldn't dodge in time and had to take the blow squarely. The elbow struck his abdominal wound, causing him to gasp in pain. Chuuya then remembered that Dazai might have been seriously injured when he kicked him in, so he withdrew his hand and didn't continue the attack.
Then, he repeated what he had already said once: "You bandaged bastard, I won't allow you to die somewhere else on your own, understand?"
"So domineering, Chuuya?" Dazai Osamu chuckled at his words, then coughed as his internal injuries were aggravated. "But, it's completely unnecessary, isn't it, Chuuya? This kind of thing."
Chuuya stared into Dazai Osamu's amber eyes, his words swirling around in his throat, a conflicted expression on his face. Dazai, on the other hand, looked at him quietly, his eyes so vacant that Chuuya inexplicably felt that if he didn't do something today, perhaps this man would really choose to leave this place completely, to leave in a physical sense, to embrace the death he so longed for.
But Chuuya Nakahara secretly didn't want this to happen at all. Whether for official business or personal reasons. Or rather…
"I need you." In the end, Chuuya Nakahara said it. He lowered his eyes, avoiding Dazai Osamu's gaze, and therefore did not notice that Dazai was staring at him intently the whole time, and was clearly stunned when he said those words.
"Ah...why? Even without me, the things Chuuya is worried about will be resolved, I..." Dazai hadn't finished speaking when Chuuya covered his mouth with his hand.
Having said it the first time, the second time went much smoother. Chuuya Nakahara could now look Dazai in the eye. He simply stared directly into Dazai's eyes, forcing Dazai's gaze to be fixed solely on him, and then said, word by word, "I need you, Dazai."
Ah, that's a foul.
As Dazai thought this, he tried to ignore the chaotic heartbeat around his ears—or rather, he wanted to stop his heart from beating so violently, which was so violent that he could feel it even when he was sitting down.
Gazing into Chuuya's eyes, as blue as the ocean, Dazai Osamu thought he would give Chuuya a perfect ending to his sixteenth year.
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