Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Your voice, it’s different. I’m different.” 

While sleeping, Dazai had suddenly appeared in a foreign place. 

Belatedly, he realised that he couldn’t see. Had he been blindfolded and kidnapped while he was sleeping?

His arm hair rose, his pupils dilated. Every bone in his body screamed ‘danger!’ Dazai didn’t understand: his mind was calm, but his very existence trembled. This shouldn’t be happening, he thought. His mind ran, trying to find reasons. What was happening?

Maybe it was because his sight had been taken, forcing his other senses to cope with the loss—Dazai noticed that the air felt like…it didn’t exist. It was too light. He couldn’t feel it against his skin as he moved. It was odd. The surface he stood on was equally nameless… It was too soft for stone, smooth like ice, but his feet did not freeze, nor did he slip.
The temperature was the worst though: neither too hot nor too cold. Unnoticeable. Average, even. Perhaps an omen for anything but average. The entire place smelled as if it hadn’t seen the light of day in centuries, moist and rotten. The stench was pervasive, but the presence of something so aggressive felt like a blessing in a place so otherwise numb and quaint. 

There was no way he was going to die in this stinky place, all alone too at that!

Dazai picked up his pace, moving aimlessly to find something—anything.  

Then, a strange thought came to him; perhaps it wasn’t that he was blind, but that everything else wore the same face, perhaps there was nothing else to see. What would your eyes tell you, when there was nothing to see? Not even a void, nor a light—just an absence so profound it couldn’t be described. What was nothingness if not the absence of everything?  

This place was too quiet, too foreign–it was too weird.
Dazai wanted to escape, now. 

“Dazai!”--Chuuya! A familiar voice beckoned to him, and a smile graced his lips. He felt as if a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and daffodils had bloomed where his heart was. Ofcourse, the doggy would have found him even here. Dazai’s pupils relaxed and he felt giddy, despite the horrific situation–And why wouldn’t he? Chuuya was here, after all!
Glad to find Chuuya, in a place so bizarre and wrong, brought a comfort Dazai wasn’t ready to admit. He instantly went to wrap himself around the little slug but—Something was wrong.

Why wasn’t Chibi pushing him? Or yelling? Why was he so… quiet…?

Finally, Chuuya spoke something, 
His voice was foreign, bizarre and oppressive, 
“g—-ewwalmkss1212322 eswded12332t—--------” It burned in his ears like scalding hot water. It flowed in his ears like heavy lead, and his skull rang.

‘Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!’ Dazai’s pupils dilated, his hands shivered. Was the man he was embracing even Chuuya? He instantly leaped away, his heart thrashing violently in his chest, trying desperately to dig its way through flesh and bone.

Why was EVERYTHING SO WRONG?! What was going on?!

All of a sudden, everything was too loud. Foreign voices screamed and wailed in his mind, and he too joined them. Together, they sang a cursed symphony. 

Suddenly, a hitch escaped his mouth, and it was too raspy, too crude, too weird! it wasn’t his!

He stared at his hands—no, not his hands. Wrong. Too long? Too short? They didn’t belong. They weren’t his. The body wasn’t his. Was he an imposter? An alien? A parasite–a shell of who he was before? Now, he could no longer be deluded into believing himself as human—no, he was human—no, he wasn’t. 

He was just a crude remain of what could have been. 

He wasn’t a human. Not any longer. 

The thought was too cruel, and Dazai found that he couldn’t live with it, nor did he want to. 

If he were the remains of things left, he’d rather not remain at all.

He brought his hands upwards, and ten delicate fingers wrapped around his neck and squeezed, again and again, more violently than the last, until he helplessly dropped, gasping, with agony and despair in his heart. He had tried. He really had, but he couldn’t die. 

The daffodils that then bloomed in his heart shriveled. At least they wouldn’t leech at him again. Despair was a harsh teacher, but all she wanted for you was to learn. She stood like a parent patiently awaiting the return of a rebellious child, beckoning Dazai into her embrace. 

Who was Chuuya? Who was he?

Chapter Text

The cat’s ears pricked up, as if understanding. Chuuya looked at the cat which sat on his hazard wooden floors with a spark in his eyes, “Hm, why not ‘mackerel’? Your eyes are just as beady, and you’ve got the personality of a soggy fish anyways.” 

The void-furred cat sent a disapproving glare at Chuuya—and wow, did it just really dislike Chuuya? Or could it somehow understand the intent behind his words?-- reminding him of the looks the adults sent him when he was a troublesome kid. He brought his hands to his thighs in exasperation, a smile gracing his lips.

Mackerel seemed to be pleased with the name since it replied with an even more disapproving “meow.” Chuuya’s laughter broke free from him—rough and young; seeing a cat with an utterly displeased and judgmental attitude would always be a funnier experience than how it was described. It had a weirdly intelligent quality to it, adding to the charm. Chuuya found the lively look on mackerel way better than when it was bloodied and injured. 

When he had found the cat, he was drowned in a puddle of blood, his fur rough and haggard, dirtied with grime. He was convinced that for an animal that had lost that much blood, well... But by some miracle (and Chuuya didn’t believe in those), the cat now—Mackerel—was alive! The rest is history: Chuuya brought it home and nursed it back to health.

And he had done a damn near miraculous job at it too. Its fur was shiny and healthy, and it had become active too. Whether that was to climb his wooden walls or make a hole in his half baked floors–mackerel had become energetic and expressive. Chuuya thought then that he liked seeing mackerel like this, like a flower in bloom fresh.

Mackerel must have sensed his thoughts because he replied with a disgruntled tail flick and turned his head away, bringing Chuuya out of his sweet musings. Sourly, Chuuya lamented, Why must the only animal that interacts with him be a bastard? “Of course I would be blessed with the most boring cat in the entire town. I saved your life, y’know? At least grant me something good as thanks.” He grumbled.

To which he received an instantaneous magnificent reply: Mackerel licking his paws. Almost as if saying, “That’s your problem for saving me!” Chuuya wouldn’t be beaten that easily though. He knew he would get to the cat one day, and damn him if he wouldn’t try his hardest.

He looked outdoors and noticed a gorgeous sunset. He hurriedly grabbed up Mackeral, pleasantly surprised to not be met with a claw to his face, and went out on the hill, with beautiful flowers and a vaste green expanse, he could confidently say that the sunset experiences infront of his home were richer than any other. 

(Chuuya was too embarrassed to say he was fascinated by the cute fluff.) 

Dazai Osamu: currently masquerading as a black cat named Mackerel. Normally, he’d have whined and complained about being reduced to such a comparison, but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to refute the name bestowed by the chibi by him.

He was more busy gazing upon the sunset, sitting in Chuuya’s lap haughtily(the grass was too sharp). He was filled with childlike wonder, although he’d never admit it. The sun escaped to sleep, hiding under its covers, as Dazai wished a small good night to it. The last few rays of the sun, running behind the rest, colored the sky a brown and yellow, filling it with brilliant-hued hibiscuses. He felt envious of humans who had this sight to enjoy every day, and couldn’t help but be drawn to it. It summed up how life was: fleeting. 

Chuuya huffed, “See that Mackerel?” and shifted on the grassy ground, bringing a hand to circle the scar under Mackerel's ear, “That’s called a ‘sunset’ it’s beautiful.” and Dazai agreed, it was beautiful. He wished to be just as pretty, to go down like the sun when it was his time. To merge with the sunset and fade with it, what could be more beautiful than colouring the sky gold?

This wasn’t how he planned to spend his time, sitting in a boy’s lap (and secretly enjoying the pats) but he supposed it had to suffice.