Archive of Our Own ^beta

T’is be an olde story, from many fortnights ago, happening in a grey little town, with grey little buildings, a grey little bridge and a dark grey forest surrounding it. The grey clocks inside the grey clock store tick-tick-tick away, as the grey street lights throw a grey light on the grey cobble stones. 

Grey men in grey suits greet each other. A cough rings through the grey square as a few workers are preparing fish for sale. A grey street sweeper is sweeping the grey streets. Grey children run around, while the grey grannies hobble about.

And, in between all of them, a person clad in black steps out of a dark alley, an ominous grin on their face.

“Hear ye, hear ye!,” the grey town crier, shaking his grey bell, yells as he walks around the grey square, “only ten minutes for the wedding rehearsal!”

A young man, hand covering his mouth as he coughs up a storm, grabs the reins of a fancy carriage and maneuvers it in front of the richest grey house in the town.

The heavy double doors open and a lanky young man rushes out, jumps over the few steps, and holds onto a street lamp, sliding in circles. “I’m getting married!,” Dazai, the town’s richest heir cheers with a sense of incredulous humor, as if his wedding is just as much of a joke to him as it is to the other inhabitants. His head turns to the carriage as another barrage of coughs interrupts his celebration. “Akutagawa! How are you feeling?,” he laughs.

“G*cough*good, young master,” the young man struggles to say.

“Perfect! Would be a shame if you died before getting a slice of the wedding cake!,” Dazai laughs and keeps sliding.

“Dazai, stop messing around, you’re getting your clothes all wrinkly.” A woman draped in luxurious, deep purple cloth with golden butterfly pins elegantly steps down the stairs. 

She’s accompanied by a tall, blonde man, his green suit immaculate and clean. “Do you wish to make us appear as fools in front of your betrothed’s family?,” he exclaims with an angry look.

With another laugh, Dazai jumps away from the street light and hops over to the carriage. Kunikida is lending Yosano a helping hand to climb it. Dazai stares for a fraction of a second before his huge grin comes back, showing off his white teeth. “Wouldn’t it be totally messed up if I was actually your son?”

The two of them stop and look at him, their heads turning in unison. They stare, before Yosano huffs, a small smile on her lips. “The only reason it has come to this is because the author needed at least two straight couples. Now, stop straying from the script and come in!”

The carriage hobbles over the cobblestones. Kunikida clears his throat. “Glorious day for a wedding, isn’t it?,” he says while looking at the grey sky.

“Wedding rehearsal,” Yosano clarifies. “Wouldn’t want to get ahead of ourselves, dear. After all, plenty could still go wrong.”

“Never celebrate before getting the results,” Kunikida repeats their store’s motto and nods. After all, he didn’t become the richest man in Yokohama by rushing.

“Still, I can’t wait.” Feeling emotional, Yosano flips open her fan. “If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be visiting balls, making connections and spreading our business across the land!”

“We got lucky,” Kunikida agrees.

“Funny how I’m going to marry someone I haven’t even spoken to,” Dazai mutters.

Yosano grins while covering her mouth with her fan. “Well, we’ve got that going for us. We only need to get through the rehearsal and the actual wedding, then we’ll be set!”

The two of them look at Dazai. “So, don’t you dare mess it up!,” they yell in unison.

Dazai holds up his hands. “I would never…”

🕸️*:...🔔…:*🕸️

Kouyo, dressed in her best pink dress, stares out of the windows, at the grey clouds in the grey sky. The window is old and dirty, smudging the world beyond. Her face is petrified in the same disgusted grimace she has been carrying for weeks now. A heavy sigh makes her chest heave. “Fish merchants,” she snarls under her breath with absolute disgust.

“We’ve talked about this.” Mori puts down his glass of tasteless wine. “They are the best match. Rich and… well, rich.”

“What a terrible day,” Kouyo laments. “And an even worse day for a wedding!”

“Rehearsal, dear.” Mori gets up and stands next to her. “Don’t be that way. Yes, it’s a sad state we’re in.”

“Sad?! SAD?!” Kouyo has to keep her anger down, which she barely manages. “Sad is when we can’t afford to keep house cleaners. Sad is when I can’t go to the capital for the season, can’t buy dresses and suits and desserts. This? This is rock bottom. To marry off Chuuya to a commoner!”

“Nouveau riche,” Mori clarifies again.

Kouyo closes her eyes and holds a hand to her forehead, sinking back into a dusty armchair, feeling faint. “Oh, it couldn’t be worse!”

Mori chuckles bitterly. “I disagree.” He motions towards a safe in the wall. It’s made of expensive marble and has gold handles. It’s completely empty. “They could be bankrupt aristocrats, without a penny to their name. Like us.”

The sound of horses neighing while approaching makes them come back to reality. With a sigh, Kouyo gets up. “I’ll make sure Chuuya is ready.” With a dignified, straight back she walks the decaying halls, past discoloured portraits of the family’s ancestors, before stopping in front of Chuuya’s room. With a soft knock, she opens the door.

Chuuya is sitting in front of a mirror, furiously brushing his uneven hair, the orange popping off of the room’s greyness.

“Let me help you, dear.” Kouyo takes the brush and quickly wraps his hair up.

“Mother,” Chuuya says, hesitating briefly, “what if I don’t like this Dazai guy?” A violent tug makes him yell out.

Kouyo scoffs. “As if that has anything to do with marriage. Do you suppose me and your father like each other?”

Chuuya looks at her weirdly. “I mean… he’s our boss?”

“Stay on script,” Kouyo chastizes him. “Marriage is a partnership. You’d think a lifetime of watching us might have taught you that. You will get married to that plebeian and live a life of luxury, away from this dreary house.” She finishes with his hair. “Make haste, make haste, they are almost here.” Before Chuuya can say anything, she rushes out of the room, escaping the tense atmosphere.

A small, grey butler and a few small, grey maids dust the stairs as she steps down, towards Mori. She can hear the horses whining on the other side of the door. Mori greets her with a nod and motions for the butler to open the door.

“Stand straight, you look like a street rat!,” Yosano exclaims, straightening Dazai’s suit. When she notices the open door, she quickly turns around with a smile and steps inside the wide halls. “My goodness! Such impeccable taste,” she says while letting her eyes wander over the dark marble, dusty curtains and empty walls.

“Not as big as our place,” Kunikida mutters with a critical eye, “a bit shabby, isn’t it-”

Yosano elbows him in the side. “You must be Lady Kouyo and Lord Mori. What an honour to meet you.” She curtseys slightly. Kunikida raises his top hat.

“Smile, dear,” Mori mutters and steps forward. “My, what a pleasure. Welcome to our home.”

“We’ll be taking tea in the west drawing room,” Kouyo says monotonously, her face frosty. “Just through here.” She turns and walks into a hallway, the other three following her.

“Oh, I love what you’ve done with the place. Who is your decorator?,” Yosano asks to make conversation.

“Nice tiles, shame about the drapes,” Kunikida joins in, earning another elbow to the ribs.

Dazai is left alone in the grand entrance hall. He doesn’t feel like sitting in a stuffy room with those snooty people. His eyes wander over the decorations, if they can even be called that. “Damn, I didn’t think they’d be that poor! Well, guess they’re desperate enough…” His voice bounces off of the wall and gets thrown back at him. The only thing that awakens his curiosity is the huge piano to the side. Music is a great way of flirting, and a piano is a surefire way of getting admirers.

Bored, he sits down and plays a little tune. The acoustics of the hall are perfect for a little concert. He might be getting carried away a little. Can you blame him? In this grey little town, the only forms of entertainment for a young man are the grey ladies, making fun of his employees and music.

He gets so carried away, he doesn’t notice someone standing behind him. “Pavane pour une infante défunte, right?”

Dazai almost jumps out of his skin, but manages to make it look intentional by smoothly turning and leaning against the piano, hands in his pockets. “Yupniceearsightyougotit!”

Chuuya blinks, confused. He didn’t quite catch that but feels like asking him to repeat himself would be bad manners. “So you are a musician?”

Having regained control over his heartbeat, in the literal sense, Dazai regains his composure. “Oh, this? Nothing much, I just like messing around with these.”

“Uhu.” 

The two stand in awkward silence.

“I do apologize!,” Dazai says, bowing theatrically. “How rude of me. May I introduce myself? I am Dazai.”

“Chuuya,” his counterpart says, seizing him up and down, unsure of what to think of this speciman. “We should probably go meet our parents in the tea room. It’s improper to be without a chaperone.”

Dazai grins mischievously. “Aww, come one, in lieu of the circumstances, I’m sure an exception can be made.”

Furious, Chuuya’s eyes turn cold and unapproachable. “You wish to go through with this marriage but still think the rules shouldn’t apply to you? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m Dazai!,” Dazai says cheerfully.

Chuuya’s cheeks are already starting to turn red from anger. “You-!”

“What impropriety is this?,” Kouyo exclaims from the other end of the hall. “You two shouldn’t be alone together! It is already one minute before five and you’re not at the rehearsal! Pastor Ace is waiting! Come at once!”

Chuuya rushes towards his mother, sending Dazai a glare, who simply laughs at him.

The tearoom that was prepared for the vow rehearsal is scarcely decorated, but has many long windows adorning the wall towards the street. Chairs were grouped up and placed in front of a table. Pastor Ace, a young man with platinum blonde hair, is wearing the long white robe and pointy hat becoming of a man of his profession.

“Ah, the happy couple finally graces us,” he exclaims with a voice that sounds mocking but is just his normal voice. “Please, take your place.” He prepares the objects that will be used for the ceremony. An old, ornamented cup, a candleholder with an unlit candle and another one with a lit candle. “Now, repeat after me: With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I shall be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.”

Chuuya clears his throat. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I shall be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” he says, though reluctantly. 

Then, everyone’s eyes turn to Dazai, expecting him to repeat the vow.

However, the brunette stares at the front with big eyes. “...I didn’t know we had any homework.” An exasperated sigh goes around the room.

“Did you think the ceremony would pass by with us not saying a word?,” Chuuya asks incredulously.

“I mean, does the Lord need to hear the words?,” Dazai jokes and looks at Pastor Ace.

“Dazai,” Yosano sighs and shakes her head.

“What? Am I wrong?” He turns around, offended. “Or does the Lord need us to do these menial things to justify the union between two men.”

“Oh no, the Lord is very tolerant about alternate lifestyles. Otherwise, someone like me wouldn’t have been able to join,” Pastor Ace waves him off.

The group stares at him. “Because you are…?”

“Gay as the Fourth of July,” Pastor Ace says with a dreamy sigh. “Now then, no worries, we have all day to get this right. Nothing more important than the union between families. Now, from the top!”

🕸️*:...5 Hours Later…:*🕸️

“Again,” Pastor Ace wheezes, holding onto the table.

“Yeeeeees,” Dazai whines and grabs the candle. “With this candle, I will…” He goes to light the candle with the flame from the second candle, but it doesn’t work. The flame just won’t light the candle. “This candle…”

“Should I go up and light it for him?,” Kunikida wonders.

“Aha! With this candle!” Dazai holds the lit candle up, moving too fast and snuffing it in the process. Everyone groans.

Pastor Ace’s eye twitches. “Just… just continue.”

The housebell chimes. “Get the door,” Mori motions at the butler standing in the corner. The man leaves quietly.

“From the candle bit, please,” Pastor Ace begs Dazai.

The butler skurries back. “A Lord Fyodor, Lord Mori.” He hands Mori a fancy card.

“I haven’t a mind for dates,” a smooth, old voice comes from the door. Startled, they turn back to see who talked. A young man, longish hair so black, it seems to glow purple, his eyes the same colour, slowly steps into the room and inspects its occupants, as if he were the man of the house himself. “Apparently, I’m a day early for the ceremony,” he says and smiles, his unnaturally white teeth catching the little bit of light left in the day.

Kouyo grabs the namecard to read it.

Mori leans over. “Is he from your side of the family?”

“I can’t recall,” Kouyo says, hushed, and snaps her fingers, “a chair for Lord Fyodor.” 

The butler quickly slides a cushioned chair over and Lord Fyodor takes a seat, his long, dark coat spilling off the edges. “Do carry on,” he says with his low voice, eyes drilled on the couple in the front.

“Let’s try this again,” Pastor Ace says, tired, “shall we, Dazai?” To save everyone time, Chuuya sneakily lights Dazai’s candle with the fire of his own.

“Pff, alright then,” Dazai says nonchalantly. “With this hand!” He offers it to Chuuya, who puts his on top and they step closer to the table, which Dazai bumps against because he wasn’t looking and almost knocks over the lit candle on it.

Pastor Ace loses it. “Three! Steps! Can you not count! Do you not wish to be married?!” 

“Well, I do not not wish to be married, that is I-”

“Pay attention!” Pastor Ace whacks him with his pastor stick. “Have you at least remembered to bring the ring?”

Dazai fiddles with his pockets. “Right here!” He triumphantly holds up a gold ring. However, since he’s holding it too tightly, it slips out and rolls over the floor.

“He dropped the ring!,” Kouyo yells, indignation. 

“This man doesn’t want to get married!,” Ace yells and slams his book shut.

“How disgraceful!” 

Yosano hides her face in her hands.

Dazai laughs nervously and throws himself on the floor, chasing the ring. “It’s good, it’s good, everything is under control!” His hand slips under the curtain and grabs the ring. “See? Got it!” He holds the ring up.

An indignation gasp makes him slowly turn around.

Kouyo’s face is beet red and she glares at him with the rage of the sun. “You-!”

“Uho.” Dazai gulps when he realizes that the curtain was actually Kouyo’s dress.

Before she can scream at him, the sizzling of a growing fire gets their attention. Kouyo starts screaming and flapping her burning skirt.

“Out of the way, you ninny!” Mori pushes Dazai away and stomps on the fire.

“Oh no, a woman is on fire,” Ace says emotionlessly.

“Get some water!,” Kunikida yells at the butler, who’s running in circles, panicking.

Yosano starts fanning the fire. “Oh, I hope it doesn’t stain.”

“STOP FANNING IT, YOU FOOL!,” Kouyo screams.

Chuuya buries his face in his hands.

Tensions and the screams continue rising, Kouyo is ready to rip her skirt when someone spills the wine in Pastor Ace’s cup on the flames, extinguishing them. “Do forgive me,” Lord Fyodor says while placing the cup back on the table, “I do hope it doesn’t leave a stain.”

The attendees stare at him in wonder.

“Enough!” Pastor Ace collects his items and stoves them in a bag. “The wedding cannot take place until he,” he stares at Dazai, “is properly prepared. You! Learn. Your. Vows!” With that, he marches through the door.

The rest silently stare at Dazai.

“So, that could have gone better, am I right?,” he jokes.

“Dazai,” Yosano hisses. Her eyes seem to be warning him of great misfortune if he doesn’t start acting a bit more serious!

An awkward silence falls over the room. Dazai sheepishly looks over at Chuuya.

“Well,” Lord Fyodor says slowly, “he’s quite the catch, isn’t he?” Chuuya looks away.

A bit of shame crawls up Dazai’s spine. “Oh, haha, now, come on… I’ll learn the vows, promise, alright?” He tries to look non-chalant. “You know what they say, a terrible rehearsal makes a long marriage! Tomorrow, everything will go perfectly, I swear on my life!” He quickly backs away and escapes through the door.

🕸️*:...🪦…:*🕸️

With a long sigh, Dazai slumps over the bridge’s edge. “They must all think that I’m such a fool,” he grumbles. It’s not that he isn’t used to glares or mockery, but thinking about how Chuuya looked away in shame is a huge blow to his ego. “Ugh! This day couldn’t get any worse!”

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” The town crier’s cries come all the way from the town entrance. “Rehearsal in ruins as Dazai causes chaos! Fishy fiancée could be canned! Lady Kouyo fired up as disaster ruins rehearsal!”

With a roll of his eyes, Dazai straightens up and walks towards the nearby woods. The tall birch trees glow under the full moon. His breath makes swirly clouds in the cold forest air. 

“It really shouldn’t be all that difficult,” he mutters while kneading his fingers. “It’s just a few simple vows.” He clears his throat. “With this hand, I will take your wine. Oh! No. With this hand!” A crow cawks in the distance. “I will cup you! UGH!”

The woods around him start becoming less clean, less cared for. Roots sprout out of the ground and branches litter the floor. “With this… With this candle, I will… I will set your mother on fire.” He facepalms. “It’s no use… Welp, who cares!” He throws his arms up. “Guess I’ll just not get married. Who cares, anyway? My parents can just buy a title, and I can continue having fun! He’s too small for my tastes, anyway!” He shakes his fist at the moon.

Still, the shame of not being able to memorize a simple vow is nagging at him. So, he takes a deep breath, puffs out his chest and gathers his confidence. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows!” He lifts his right hand, holding the gold ring. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine!” He turns up his nose, as if he was a snooty lord, holding a wine glass. “With this candle,” he snaps a branch off of a bush and pretends it’s a lit candle, “I will light your path! With this ring,” he kneels on the cold ground, “I ask you,” he leans forward, towards the bush, “to be mine!” He slips the ring on a thin branch.

The wind completely stops. “Aha! I knew it! There’s nothing I can’t do! Pshe, boring little vows!” He gets up and keeps patting himself on the back. “Anyone would be lucky to marry me! I am handsome! I am cultured! I am rich!” More and more crows fly over him and land on the pale branches. “I mean, who cares about titles, the bourgeoisie, furthering the family line, please! Money is what makes the world turn!” The bush behind him starts creaking, the branches snapping and the ground breaking. “And there is no one richer than me! DAZAI! Muahahahaha!” Thunder strikes in the distance. He whirls around abruptly to get back the ring but is dumbfounded to see a person sitting in the ground.

The person stares back, equally if even more dumbfounded. “Um… hello?,” they say.

Dazai blinks. “Are you… a zombie?”

“What?,” the person asks, offended. Their face, or, well, what is left of their face, twists as they glare at him, exposing half of a jaw and dentures. The person twists and pulls their arms out of the earth, one hidden under a dirty white sleeve, the other bare bone. They start digging themselves out and get up. 

Dazai notices that the person seems to reach him almost to the chin, they are dressed in the remains of a white suit, though it’s covered in dirt and their grey hair and multicoloured eyes reflect the full moon. Their skin is blue and seems to be glowing.

“Seriously now, how did I even get back here?,” the person mumbles, annoyed and looks at the ground critically.

“Oh, I get it!,” Dazai exclaims, “you are a tree spirit that came to life, aren’t you?”

Surprised, the person stares at them. “A tree spirit? Why would you think that?”

“Because of that bush.” Dazai points past the person.

They lift their eyebrow and stare at him with a deadpan expression. “I’m not a bush person! This is my tomb!” They kneel down and grab a stone plate that had fallen over.

Dazai comes closer and looks at the eroded stone. “So your name is Atsushi, eh?”

Startled, Atsushi drops the tombstone. “What’s it to you!? Leave me alone, I’m busy.”

“Awww,” Dazai makes his best puppy eyes, “you’re sending me away?”

Atsushi looks at him weirdly. “Why are you even here? It’s the woods in the middle of the night.”

“Practicing my vows,” Dazai says matter-of-factly.

“Who would marry you?!,” Atsushi exclaims. “...I’m sorry. But at a cemetery? Really?” Dazai laughs and lifts his finger to point at him. Atsushi looks at the hand he’s looking at, the one fully stripped of skin and muscle, and sees the golden ring on his finger. “WAH!” He falls on his back in shock and starts trying to get the ring off, but it doesn’t budge.

Dazai watches as Atsushi struggles, a smile growing on his face. “My, my, who’d have thought that I’d get to marry a corpse?”

“Creep!,” Atsushi yells. “Who puts a ring on a corpse?”

“To be fair, I thought it was a branch,” Dazai defends himself.

“Just a weirdo then,” Atsushi grumbles and bites on the ring. “...You seem pretty nonchalant about all of this.”

“Well,” Dazai flips his hair, “can’t be scared of a cutie now, can I?”

Atsushi visibly shivers. “Ew.” Yet another blow to Dazai’s ego. “How will I get back now?,” he wonders aloud, his voice sounding panicked. “I can’t even contact anyone from here! Is there a person on their deathbed in your town?,” he asks, turning towards Dazai with hopeful eyes.

“Not that I know of,” Dazai replies, amused. 

“Oh no,” Atsushi whispers, now fully panicked.

A sense of care towards this poor, unfortunate creature makes Dazai relax his features. “Hey now, it’s going to be alright, we’ll find a solution for… whatever this is.”

“You think so?,” Atsushi asks, suspicious.

“Hey now, they call me Dazai, the Truth Speaker!” He confidently pats himself on the chest. “I promise to use all of my connections to get you back in the ground! But first, you should probably dust yourself off. You have a leaf in your hair.

Instinctively, Atsushi runs his skeleton fingers through his hair. “I do?”

With a shake, the ground opens up beneath them and they fall, enveloped in darkness as the sound of the wind, the crows and the closing earth disappears.

🕸️*:...💀…:*🕸️

“A new arrival!”

“Looks like he fainted.”

“Does he look kinda green?”

Dazai blinks, his eyes needing to adjust to the bright colours that envelop him. “Uuuuuh, what happened?,” he groans, his skull buzzing.

“By Jove! Lads, I think we got ourselves a breather!”

Dazai blinks repeatedly, his eyes not used to such… brightness! 

“Oh, please tell me he has a brother!”

Something pokes him in the ribs. “He’s still soooooft.”

As his eyes adjust, Dazai looks to the side… right into the empty eye sockets of a skull. 

“...Hey!”

“HUWAAAAAAAAAAH!,” he screams and rolls over the floor, scrambling to get away. He painfully bumps his head and pulls himself onto his feet. He flinches when he sees a skeleton in marine attire, a sword in his chest, raise his glass. 

“A toast!,” the skeleton announces and bumps glasses with another soldier. Said skeleton then rips the sword out of his comrade’s chest, pours his glass full with the venom green liquid spurting out of it and gulps it down in one go.

Dazai quickly assesses the situation. “So, I’m assuming that this is… the afterlife?”

“We know it can be difficult,” some corpses with ‘fresh’ meat on them approach him, “it takes everyone some time to adju-”

Dazai throws his arms in the air and starts screaming. “YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSS! Finally!” He starts laughing maniacally. 

“Ooooh, he’s one of those people,” a corpse sniggers.

“Hoooooh! Hooooooh! And here I thought I’d have to convince whoever I married to drink poison on our wedding night, but I am okay with thiiiiiiiis!”

“To the newlyweds!,” the bar cheers.

“For the last time! We are not married!,” Atsushi yells at all of them.

Dazai holds his hand to his chest, wounded. “Oh, not even a full day and you already want a divorce?!”

Atsushi glares at him. “Don’t encourage them! And take back your ring!” He grabs the gold ring and starts pulling it, but it just won’t get off. It’s stuck on his skeletal ring finger. He pulls and pulls aggressively. “ARGH!”

“Coming through, coming through!,” someone yells. “I’m Haruno, I’ll cook your wedding feast!”

Atsushi’s eye pops out of his socket and a maggot with a big bow on its head looks out. “What?! What wedding?!”

“Go back in, Kyouka! It’s nothing, they’re just joking!” Atsushi shoves his eye back. Kouka slithers out of his ear instead.

“Woah, that’s weird,” Dazai wheezes.

“Who the fuck is that? I take a nap and suddenly you’re married?!”

“What about a bachelor party!,” an orange corpse yells out.

Dazai grins widely at Atsushi’s frantic attempts to be heard. “You all seem very eager to celebrate. Is the afterlife that boring?”

“Oh, nonono,” a skeleton clatters up to him, losing ribs along the way that bounce around and attach themselves again, “it’s just that we’re so happy that Atsushi can finally fulfill his dying wish! To the newlyweds!”

“To the newlyweds!”

Atsushi’s face would turn rage red, if he had the blood or the veins for it. “That is NOT my-”

“His dying wish? So, the wish he had while he was dying?,” Dazai asks, morbidly curious.

“Basically, yeah,” another corpse says, “though, it’s more complicated than that. You see, it’s more like a-”

“Oh, what a story it is,” a smooth voice comes from a dark corner. A yellowed skeleton with a bowl hat smoothly appears from the shadows, standing on a small stage. “A tragic tale of romance and passion, betrayal and murder, an ending most foul, and a beginning so dark.”

“Oh! This is gonna be good!” The bar buzzes alive, cups raised, skeletons lined up. Atsushi groans and covers his face with his hands. Dazai watches, eager.

A skeleton starts playing guitar with his spine, a smooth jazz. A different group of skeletons start snapping their fingers rhythmically.

“Folks from around the forest, corpses old and young, gather ‘round and listen to this tale, which will make a skeleton cry, the story of our own lovely corpse bride.”

“Bride?,” Dazai exclaims.

“Stop calling me that!,” Atsushi yells.

“Die, die we all pass away, but don't wear a frown cuz it's really okay, and you might try 'n' hide, and you might try ‘n' pray, but we all end up the remains of the dayyyyyyyyy!”

The main singer jumps on the bar and clinks his glass. “Now, our boy here was born, abandoned and hated, on the steps of a house, raised with contempt and coldness, when a mysterious stranger came into town, he was plenty good looking, charming even, and our poor baby, he fell hard and fast, for the promises of adventure and love, so our mystery man came up with a plan to steal him away.”

Dazai looks over at Atsushi, who’s glaring at everyone but doesn’t try to stop them. The Lord knows how many times he has tried to stop them.

“So full of happy and cheer, he put on his best, they met late at night, not a soul in sight, with a satchel of gold, and a heart full of hope, met next to the graveyard, by the old oak tree, on a dark foggy night at a quarter to three, he was ready to go, but where was he?”

Dazai gasps. “And then?”

“He waited?”

“And then?!”

“There in the shadows, was it that man?”

“And then!?”

“His little heart beat so loud.”

“And THEN!?”

“And then baby, everything went black. Now when he opened his eyes, he was dead as dust, his gold missin' and his hopes dashed. Years pass, him all alone, when all of a sudden, and out of the blue, comes this groovy young man, who vows forever to be by his side, and that's the story of our own corpse bride.”

Dazai claps. “What a show! Encore! Encore!”

🕸️*:...🎶…:*🕸️

“Chuuya, come away from the window,” Kouyo says weakly. The events of the day have drained her of the last bit of energy that she had.

Chuuya looks at his mother, sitting with his father and Dazai’s parents next to the lit fireplace.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Yosano says nervously, “he’s afraid of the dark. In fact, when he was a boy, he was afraid of almost everything, wasn’t he?” Kunikida nods silently.

Someone knocks at the door.

“Enter,” Mori says quickly, hoping for a distraction.

Lord Fyodor’s tall, dark figure steps into the room.

“Ah, Lord Fyodor,” Kouyo straightens her back, at least keeping a semblance of dignity in front of her maybe-cousin-thrice-removed, “I trust the room is to your liking.”

“Thank you, you are a most gracious hostess,” he says with a low, unhurried voice, “which is why it pains me to be the bearer of such bad news.” He snaps his fingers and, to everyone’s surprise, the town crier comes in. “Would you care to repeat tonight’s headline for us?”

The town crier clears his throat and shakes his bell. “Hear ye, hear ye! Dazai seen in the forest in the middle of the night! Hunter sees him flirting with a mystery young boy and giving him a gold ring! They slipped right into the night! And now, the weather. Scattered showers-”

“Enough. That will be all.” Lord Fyodor waves him off. The town crier bows and leaves.

“A mystery young boy?!,” Yosano exclaims, the cup in her hand shaking terribly. “Don’t tell me he’s flirting with the stable boys again!”

“So this has happened before?,” Lord Fyodor asks, in an uninterested voice. “In any case, do call me if you need my assistance,” he goes to leave the room, “in any way,” he says with one last glance at Chuuya.

Kouyo feels another wave of nausea and quickly fans herself. “Good heavens,” she wheezes, “Mori, what are we going to do?”

“Fetch me my musket right now!,” Mori yells, furious.

Yosano kicks Kunikida’s leg. “Do something!,” she hisses.

“Wha-? Uh! Um, the town crier probably just had a slow news day,” he quickly says and takes the musket out of Mori’s hands, “you know how the news outlets make mountains out of mole hills just to get more coverage. Everyone knows about the marriage between our families, so they just want to start drama because they’re bored.”

“Regardless,” Mori exclaims and straightens his jacket, “we are one groom short for the wedding tomorrow. Not to mention the financial implications!”

Kouyo reaches out and slaps him on the back of his head with her fan. “This embarrassment is going to ruin our family! Do you know how this scandal could affect Chuuya’s future prospects?!”

“Give us a chance to find him,” Yosano quickly interjects and puts her cup down. “I promise, we’ll have him back by dawn.”

“Very well,” Kouyo snarls, “till dawn.”

Yosano giggles nervously and rushes Kunikida out of the room, gathering her expensive skirt up to run faster.

Chuuya watches as they leave and turns back to the window. Somehow, the sky seems to be much greyer than normal.

🕸️*:...🧟…:*🕸️

“Atsushiiiiiiiii!,” Dazai yells cheekily while searching the colourful streets. The blue corpse stormed out of the bar after the spectacle was over and, since you can’t have a wedding with only one person, no matter how narcissistic they are, the others quickly lost interest and went back to their own… lives.

While searching, he can’t help but admire the buildings. He knew that the city he lives in is, well, grey as fuck, but he always thought it was his depression talking! “Oh, that building looks just like Chuuya’s hair!,” he exclaims while admiring a deep orange building leaning over the alley, the warm glow of the floating nearby candles making it seem like the sky during a rising sun. 

“Hahaha, wait, why am I thinking of Chuuya now?” A thought crosses his mind, a memory. “Boo, do I have to?,” he whines at the Lord. 

But he remembers. It was another grey day. It always was, but Dazai was an overachiever, even as a little boy, so to him, the world seemed so much more grey than to anyone else. It looked as if every colour was mixed into one, creating a sticky, grey sludge that was life.

That all changed one day. He was told not to go close to the big manor on the hill. The Lord and his family lived there, so it was off grounds. Nevermind that the ‘hill’ consisted of just a few steps and that the dirty street was barely a Dazai’s length off.

One night, Dazai climbed up the vine that grew up the wall and peeked into the windows, wondering if the ghost stories were true, hoping to see something, anything, that would alleviate his boredom even just a little bit. 

The first real colour Dazai saw was orange. Such an intensely flaming orange, it hurt his eyes and he almost fell off the vine. He stared so intensely, he didn’t even fully register that the colour was attached to a person. Even through the dirty window, it was like a candle that lit a flame inside of him.

“Hahaha, why am I thinking of this now?!,” Dazai squeals out and picks up the pace, his cheeks heating up. “You’re killing my tough guy persona! I’m supposed to be a don’t-give-a-fucker!” He laughs nervously again. “Atsushi-kuuuuuuuun!”

The skeleton arms chilling out in a nearby barrel suddenly point in the same direction.

“Oh, thank you very much.” Dazai runs quickly, hoping to leave behind his thoughts. And what better way than to go annoy his underli- new spouse?

“Marriage, eh? I don’t see the appeal, I prefer being a widow.”

Dazai looks down and sees a big spider with a red dot on its body. “Black Widow, eh? You must think you’re soooo funny.”

The spider glares at him. “You’re not good enough for him.” She scuttles off.

“I’m just gonna keep looking. Bye.” He follows the alley until he gets to a dead end. “Hehe, ‘dead’, get it?” He climbs the stairs nearby and finally finds Atsushi sitting on a bench. “The view up here is breathtaking,” he says while sliding up next to him, “I mean, if you had any.”

Atsushi glares at him and scoots away.

“Do the people down here normally make fun of each other by the way they died? I’d imagine that anyone who had dysentery must be miserable!”

Shockingly, this makes Atsushi giggle, though he masks it with a cough. “Yeah, they do. Most take it in stride, it seems that death has given them a sense of humour. I guess I’m just…”

Dazai waits but gets no more conversation out of him. “Just to be curious,” he tries, “how old were you when you died?”

“Why do you want to know?,” Atsushi asks, suspicious.

“Yeah! You some kind of creep?!,” Kyouka yells.

“Why is the maggot talking?,” Dazai asks. “And why is it wearing a bow?”

“I made it for her,” Atsushi explains.

“And I slay!” Kyouka disappears inside Atsushi’s ear again.

“I’m eighteen,” Atsushi answers his question, “and another hundred, hundred fifty… Since age doesn’t really matter anymore, people stop counting. Or maybe it’s just me. When I asked the others, they either lied shamelessly or started giggling.” He sighs. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one not totally obsessed with the fact that I’m dead.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? It’s amazing!” Dazai raises his arms. “The living world is shit! Compared to this-! It’s like I was born to die!”

Atsushi presses his lips together and glares at Dazai. “Yeah, you seem like you’d fit right in here.”

“I know,” Dazai sighs dramatically and leans back. “You don’t think there’s a way for us to switch?,” he asks. “I’ll gladly give you my life.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Atsushi harrumphs. “That’s not possible. Then again, it wasn’t supposed to be possible for someone like you-”

“Dashingly handsome?!”

“...like you to be here, so what do I know?” Atsushi leans his head on his hands. “Oh! But I know who would!,” he exclaims suddenly. “Come on, I’ll bring you to him!”

Dazai laughs at Atsushi’s excitement. “Are you bringing me to your leader?”

“He’s not our leader,” Atsushi explains, “there’s no nobility here. And no one really listens to anyone. But, as far as authority goes, he’s the only one who has any.”

“An anarchy, ey? This place is getting better the longer I stay here.”

They walk on the multicoloured cobblestones. Sometimes, they pass a skeleton drinking, spilling beer everywhere, or a corpse that is carrying around its head. Dazai sees other rotting corpses, like Atsushi, but dressing more and more skimpily. Some look at him curiously and wink at him, their eyeballs rolling in the sockets.

Atsushi ignores them and leads him through the zig-zag alleys, towards a high tower. The half-rotten, wooden stairs creak terribly under their feet. Dazai imagines that falling to death in the underworld is just falling, but he can’t help feeling nervous since, well, he is still alive.

“President, sir?” Atsushi lightly knocks and opens the door. “Are you there? Can we come in? Are you busy?”

Dazai looks around, curious. Books stack up, as high as the ceiling, the room is full of trinkets and the floor is thick with dust. A bunch of lit, colourful candles are dripping wax on them. “Damn, I bet these books are one of a kind,” Dazai whispers and pulls a thick book out of its stack. The tower of books sways and comes crashing down, missing the two of them by a hair’s width.

Atsushi slowly turns around, trembling all over with rage.

A murder of crows starts cawing and fluttering around. The oil lamps hanging from the ceiling shake around, casting long shadows over them. A skeletal hand reaches out and grabs the nearest lamp. “Atsushi? Is that you?,” an old voice calls out.

“Here! Here.” Atsushi raises his hand as if he was in school and carefully steps over the books.

“And I’m Dazai! His husband!,” Dazai yells.

“No, you’re not! A priest never officiated, so it doesn’t count!”

Elder Fukuzawa sits straight on an elevated platform, under a bunch of glass chimes hanging from the ceiling, leaving colourful light spots on his skull. His old, dusty bones are covered by a green, rotting kimono, loose strands of grey hair are still attached to his broken open skull and two dry eyes roll around in his sockets. They stare at Dazai with cold disdain. “Yes, I’ve heard of your… situation.”

“It’s not what it looks like!,” Atsushi tries to argue.

“Is it not?,” Elder Fukuzawa says with disdain. “From what I see, this creepy young man was practicing his vows and accidentally summoned you to the living world and is now just being a complete asshole about it, deeming annoying you more important than to find a solution.”

“Hey now, don’t just rip me open like that!,” Dazai whines.

Elder Fukuzawa ignores him and turns to Atsushi. “Don’t you worry, I have already started reading up on the topic.” He taps on the book in front of him.

“Did you find a way to send Dazai back for good?,” Atsushi asks, hopeful.

“What if I don’t want to leave?,” Dazai exclaims, offended.

Atsushi growls at him. “You are leaving!”

“But before I could find a solution, I first had to find out why it happened in the first place,” Elder Fukuzawa continues. 

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Let me guess!,” Dazai exclaims, shaking his arm in the air. “Is it because his poor, broken heart couldn’t deal being murdered on his wedding day, so he vowed to wait for someone of pure heart and great looks to spend his dead life with forever and ever?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Atsushi wheezes.

“Actually,” Elder Fukuzawa says reluctantly, “he’s kinda right.”

“WHAT?!”

“BAHAHA, I was right!”

“The time and way someone dies affects their death more than you would imagine,” Elder Fukuzawa explains, “and, while most indications are visual, like being halved or decapitated as a corpse, some are on a plain of reality we can’t directly see.”

“So it is a wedding curse! Ha! Predictable!,” Dazai sniggers.

“It’s less about the actuall… wedding stuff, and more to do with the hopes and dreams you left behind upon your death.” Fukuzawa looks at Atsushi gravely. “The reason you were so easily summoned back to the living world is because you still have a connection to it. Most people here embrace their death, which fortifies their connection to the underworld. You however are still living your life, even in death.”

Atsushi looks shocked. “But, but I am connected to the underworld! I have my own place, I make candles and I make glass chimes and I have all my basic needs met, on account of not having any basic needs anymore!”

“Yeah! Can’t you see that Atsushi is a paragon of mental health? It’s probably because I’ve always wanted to die, so the underworld opened itself up to me willingly. Why prolong the inevitable?”

“Either way, the link between you two is weak, so it’ll be easy to sever it. All you have to do is strengthen your connections to your respective worlds. You,” he says, turning to Dazai, “what’s your biggest link to the world of the living?”

Dazai stares at him with big eyes. “...My parents, obviously.”

Elder Fukuzawa nods. “In that case, I’ll be sending both of you up there. You will deepen your connection and send Atsushi back.”

“Can’t you just send him up and leave me here?,” Atsushi asks.

“Even if I send one of you up, the other will follow. Such is the way the link works.”

“Everyone says going back up is impossible,” Atsushi says, defeated, “they say it’s unnatural and weird and that only losers do that.”

“Plenty of people go up, Atsushi. Most of them with a reason. Most of them to spook people. And it is a rule that we must abide by, that the dead cannot interfere with the world of the living. But in cases like now, where the barrier has blurred, there is no other way.”

“Okay so, go up, tell my parents I love them, feel their undying love for me and stop wanting to die. I can’t see any problem with that.”

“Alright then.” Elder Fukuzawa takes out another book and opens it. “There’s an old japanese spell that will send you to the place where you fell into. Now, when your mission is done, you will say the words Ie ni kaette, which will send you back and, if we’re lucky, leave Dazai in the world of the living.” He starts reading from the book. The words he speaks don’t sound like a language, but like the whispers of  forest, the cracking of a glacier and the sound a plant makes when it breaks through the earth.

Dazai only feels a pull in his belly area and finds himself in the forest the next second. “Woooooh, magic.”

“Okay, we need a game plan.” Atsushi’s fired up. “What’s your relationship with your parents like?”

“Hm? Oh, they became my parents a few days ago, actually. Before that, they were just my coworkers.”

Atsushi squints at him, deadpan. “Dazai-san, please stick to the script.”

“Pffffffft.” Dazai snorts. “Well, as parents go, they’re normal. Well, aside from the crushing pressure of wanting me to become the successor to their thriving business, amassing wealth for generations to come, and then there’s also the whole marrying someone from a broke noble family to get a title.”

“...rich people problems,” Atsushi mutters. “Alright, then, let’s go find them.” He lifts his head high and marches away from the graveyard.

“Wawawawait!” Dazai steps in his path to stop him. “You can’t just walk into town like this. I know I reacted like a calm, serene, dashing young man in his prime, but most people would get out the pitch forks at the sight of you.”

“I’ll just stay hidden,” Atsushi replies.

Dazai grabs him by the shoulders and sits him down on a stump. “Don’t you worry, I can handle this. I’ll just quickly run to town, fortify my link or some bullshit and come right back to tell you, okay? Okay.” Before Atsushi can argue with him, he runs off.

Okay, I left at about nine in the eve, from the position of the moon in regards to Earth, it should be close to midnight, so my parents have probably left the manor and gone home. They’ll probably also be suuuuuuuper mad that I ran out and disappeared…

He stops and dives into some bushes next to the road. A carriage comes rattling over the bridge and he can hear Akutagawa’s exaggerated cough approaching. He peeks between the leaves and watches as his parent’s carriage rattles on. They’re probably looking for him. Or leaving town out of shame.

Once the carriage is out of sight, he crawls out and, plucking some leaves off his jacket, runs in a different direction, towards the big, imposing manor.

“If I see that half-wit again, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands!”

Dazai can hear Mori’s rage through the thick walls.

“His neck is too thin. Better use a rope,” Kouyo’s muffled voice replies, tired.

“Oh, don’t you dare talk ~dirty~ to me,” Dazai grunts while climbing up a dead vine. His stick arms pull him up and he rolls onto the balcony. Making sure his clothes aren’t too filthy, he checks himself out in the glass’ reflection, his eyes wandering from his face to the flaming orange.

Chuuya is sitting in front of a fire, reading, the flames dancing and spitting. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Dazai’s inelegant climb. Good.

“Uhuhum,” Dazai clears his throat and knocks.

Inside the room, Chuuya almost launches his book across the room from fright. He whirls around, his hair dancing around his face, his eyes big as saucers. His surprise turns into rage as he sees Dazai, who grins and waves at him. Chuuya stomps over and, with one last glare, closes the curtains in his face.

“If you don’t open the door, I’ll serenade you!,” Dazai yells.

Immediately, the doors open and Chuuya pulls him inside, slamming them shut again. “What do you want?,” he snarls.

“My, my, is this how you greet your fiancée?”

Chuuya can’t help but laugh. “You actually think the wedding is still on? My mother is going to kill you the first chance she gets!”

“If she’s a smart woman, she’ll wait until after the kiss,” Dazai jokes and evades a book aimed at his head.

“You don’t have to worry about this anymore,” Chuuya says bitterly. He presses his lips together and looks into the fire.

Dazai can feel that something is wrong. “What do you mean?”

With a deep intake of air, Chuuya raises his chin and looks at Dazai with defiant eyes. “Did you think you’d be the only rich man I can marry?”

“Don’t tell me-.” Dazai can’t help but laugh.

“Lord Fyodor has offered to take care of me and my family, if I accepted him.”

“And you accepted?!,” Dazai exclames, wheezing. “Owie, this hurts my pride!”

Chuuya huffs. “Compared to you, he seemed like the better option. After all, weren’t you planning on running off? The town crier already told us. You were seen with a… boy,” Chuuya says, disgusted.

“Ah, yes, but it’s a bit different than you think. You see, while I was diligently practicing my vows, I seem to have accidentally married a corpse.”

Chuuya stares at him with a deadpan expression.

“I went to the afterlife and, I must say, it is far more enjoyable down there, so I’ll be staying.”

“And why are you telling all of this to me?,” Chuuya huffs. “Shouldn’t you go say farewell to your parents?”

Dazai bends forward with a smirk until they are eye-to-eye. “Because no one will ever believe you.”

“You’re crazy,” Chuuya says with a roll of his eyes. “Go, run away with your child bride, see if I care. I’m glad that I won’t have to be married to a loser like you.”

“Oh? And who’s to say that Lord Fyodor will be a better husband than I could have been?,” Dazai mocks.

“As if!,” Chuuya barks. “At least Lord Fyodor isn’t a playboy who flirts with stable boys and runs away from his responsibilities. Who knows, if I tried, love could blossom in this match, and if not, at least we’ll be able to coexist peacefully. And get off your high horse! We all know that this sham marriage was only planned because the author thinks you’re a whore and I’m the only person who could beat you into submission!”

“Oh, don’t you dare talk ~dirty~ to me.”

“DON’T MAKE THE SAME JOKE TWICE!” Chuuya takes a deep breath to calm down. “So, what now? Will you be riding into the sunset and let everyone believe you’re dead? If you do, don’t you dare regret it and come back!”

“Oh, it’s much simpler than that,” Dazai waves his finger in front of Chuuya’s face, “all I have to do is say that the plan failed and then I’ll be living the rest of my existence in the greatest place in the planet… hell!”

“What?!”

The two men turn and look at the balcony. Because of their bickering, they didn’t notice the balcony door opening. Chuuya’s mouth hangs open as he sees the figure standing on his balcony.

“You lied to me!,” Atsushi yells, furious. “You never planned to dissolve the link between us!”

“Aww, come on now. Why would anyone want to be alive when people are dying to go down there!,” Dazai laughs.

“You!” Atsushi points at him with his skeleton finger. “You’re an ungrateful idiot, you know that? How can you be so selfish as to throw your life away like that! What’s your reason, even?! You have a family, you have money, you can do what you want! Your life won’t be cut short, your hopes and dreams won’t be crushed by the world!”

Dazai looks at Atsushi with an uneasy calmness. “Oh, Atsushi. Don’t project your regrets onto me.”

Atsushi stares at Dazai, his eyeballs almost falling out of their sockets. “...Ie ni kaette.” Crows start screeching and flapping around, a dark smoke envelops the room.

When Chuuya opens his eyes again, the two other figures are gone. “...What the fuck?”

🕸️*:...💔…:*🕸️

“You selfish PRICK! LIAR! DECEIVER!” Atsushi screams more insults at Dazai as both of them appear in Elder Fukuzawa’s tower again.

“Did I ever say I wanted to go back?,” Dazai asks, feigning ignorance.

“What you said or didn’t say doesn’t matter! You’re alive! You belong in the living world!,” Atsushi yells and points up, “with your family! Your friends! Your goddamn fiancée!”

“My fiancée hates my guts,” Dazai says nonchalantly, “and my friends and family will understand. They know that I’ve always been like this.”

Atsushi’s barrage of swears stops and he silently stares at the man, all his fight leaving him. “Whatever. Do what you want, I don’t care. Go build yourself a life in the land of the dead, you’re not my problem anymore.” With that, he storms past them and down the stairs.

Elder Fukuzawa sighs and closes his book. “Well, I guess nothing will work if the one who has to leave wants to stay. I just hope you won’t come to regret it once it’s too late.”

Dazai huffs and turns away. As he leaves the building and looks out onto the colourful roofs of his new home. He takes a deep breath, the smell of sulfur and dust filling his lungs. “Since I’m the only person alive here, I’m probably the only person who knows what this place smells like,” he says giddily. His steps resound in the warped alleys. Since coming here, I haven’t felt hunger, tiredness, or had to use the toilet! This place is heaven! I don’t feel anything! He tilts his head to look at the dark purple sky and the cheese yellow moon. 

While strolling around so distracted, he jumps when his step suddenly crunches. He looks down and sees that one of the glass ornaments hanging from every balcony seems to have fallen, its shards spread on the cobblestones. They look like a rainbow of glass. He bends down and takes the biggest one, a sharp orange fragment in the form of a trapeze. He holds it up to his right eye and looks at the moon. It goes from a cheese yellow to a cheesier orange.

He looks around, the world turning orange all over, like the insides of a pumpkin, like the center of a spreading fire, like the core of the sun, like- “Looks just like Chuuya’s hair,” Dazai mutters. On instinct, his hand clutches shut, digging the sharp glass into his soft, fleshy hand and cutting deeply. “Ah, shit,” he sighs, holding his hand semi-closed so that the blood won’t just flow out. He still doesn’t know exactly how the whole being-alive-in-the-dead-world works, but he’d rather not risk it. Not that he’d have much to lose, now that he knows where he’d end up anyway, but still.

“Better go find some dead doctor or something,” he mutters. But the alleys are deserted. Looking back, he can see that he walked quite far from Elder Fukuzawa’s tower. Without the tower to guide him, he’d probably been lost for eternity. Gripping the shard, he orients himself and walks to the left side of the faraway tower, where he deduces the center of this town/city/world is.

It doesn’t take him long to prove himself right.

“Ugh, you again?,” the spider hanging from a wall sneers.

“Miss Widow, how are you doing?,” he asks with a big grin.

“Oh, I’m a Black Widow, so I must be a woman, eh?!”

Dazai tilts his head. “Are you not?”

The spider stares back angrily. “So disrespectful! But, what do I expect from a living human? Freaks, the lot. And so uncaring! Why are you spilling all around the ground?!”

“Oh.” Dazai looks down. He must have left a trail of blood. “I’m bleeding.” Come to think of it, he’s feeling a bit lightheaded. Luckily, there’s a bench nearby.

“Ugh, the living are so needy,” the spider nags while scuttling over, “come on, boy. Open your hand.”

“Are you going to bite me?,” Dazai asks but does as he’s told. He winces when his flesh peels off the shard, glued to it by dried blood. The spider tut-tuts again and scurries over his arm towards the wound. It tickles him. 

“Been some time since I tried something like this. Now, don’t you dare close your fist, you hear me?”

Dazai feels a few pricks as the spider starts sewing his wound shut with her web. Even to him, the situation looks so surreal that he can’t avert his eyes. “Were you a doctor when you were alive?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Spiders can’t be doctors, we don’t have medical school.”

“Ah… I assumed that you were a human before…”

The spider rolls its many eyes. “Spiders also die, you know?” She finishes up and even wipes the blood away with her apron. “Here you go, all cleaned up. Can’t have you all bloody, Atsushi would get scared.”

Dazai chuckles. “Don’t worry about that, he dumped me.”

The spider stares at him and then starts laughing uncontrollably. She even rolls from his arm onto the bench. “Serves you right!”

“It seems people here are quite opinionated as to what Atsushi deserves,” he mentions. “I mean, I knew I wasn’t good enough for Chuuya, but I didn’t expect all those corpses and skeletons and animals to indirectly tell me to fuck off.”

“Well, I don’t know who Chuuya is, but down here, you have a whole town to convince if you want to stay together with Atsushi!”

Dazai shrugs. “Could have fooled me. Atsushi seemed like the quiet type, and he didn’t mention any friends.”

The spider laughs obnoxiously. “Oh, you living folk with your hierarchies, don’t you realize how dumb you sound? A person can’t spend the last 138 years supplying this town with candles and glass chimes and not become everyone’s favorite person.”

“Wait, what?” Dazai looks around the plaza they’re in. Humongous amounts of used, dripping candles in all shapes and colours and carvings and glass pieces hung in a way that they throw colourful dots on the cobblestones and walls. “You’re telling me Atsushi made all these?”

“I mean, when you’re dead, most think that there’s much more exciting stuff to do than make candles and upcycle junk,” the spider says, deadpan.

“Damn.” Dazai slumps back. “Well, I did think that I’d finally meet some like-minded people here. Finally I can be with people who hate being alive and love being dead!”

“Yeah, that’s the thing now, is it,” the spider says with an old sigh, “the people who hated being alive also hated being dead. You won’t find them here.” The small watch on one of the spider’s legs dings. “Welp, good talk, I need to go now. Haruno needs me to patch up some of her skin. It’d be a mess if it fell into the food.”

Dazai silently watches as the spider disappears into some cracks. Once he’s alone again, his gaze falls on the bloodied piece of glass.

🕸️*:...🍻…:*🕸️

The atmosphere in the bar hasn’t lessened in the least from the last time he was there. He even recognizes some skeletons, he thinks.

“Eyoooooo!,” he exclaims.

The chatter in the bar dies down abruptly as the sound of dozens of skulls turning over the spines makes the air tremble.

“What does a guy need to do to get a drink in here?”

A dead cricket is the only one making a sound. “Oh, brother, this guy stinks!” The bar unanimously roars with laughter, a skeleton jumps on a table and starts singing, a few ghouls start banging their empty cups on their tables and a rotting head is being used as a bowling ball.

With a shake of the head, Dazai steps past them and scans the area. It’s funny, in the living world, he was always the life of the party, the most energetic, the most dramatic. But here, it’d be difficult to find someone who looks gloomier than-

“Ah, nevermind.” He chuckles when he sees a dark cloud (consisting of dead fruit flies) hanging over Atsushi’s head. The young corpse is leaning against an old, probably dead, piano, his head leaning on his half rotten hand, his skeleton finger listlessly pressing down on its keys.

“Can you play the piano?,” Dazai asks while leaning over Atsushi, throwing his shadow over him.

“Of course not,” Atsushi says bitterly. “There wasn’t a piano in miles when I lived.”

“You could learn now. I can teach you! Here, let me.” He sits down next to him and starts going ham on the keys. Pavane pour une infante défunte fills the air, it éclipses all other conversations and fills voids Dazai didn’t even know he had. He thinks of Chuuya, of their conversation earlier that day, of the glimpses he caught of his fiery hair and of all the colours he discovered ever since meeting him. His fingers slam on the keys, their sound distorted. “Well? How was it?”

Atsushi stares at him. “It sounded sad.”

As a response, Dazai simply smiles and plays a different song with his right hand. It sounds more cheerful, though the piano groans and squeaks. “I didn’t think you’d storm off to here of all places.”

“Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I have to become a recluse,” Atsushi says snippily.

“Also, he has me!,” Kyouka announces. “And I am not afraid of speaking my mind! Schmuck! Playboy! Pissant!”

Dazai laughs. “Oh, please, I have heard way worse from my parents!”

Their conversation is interrupted by a loud bell ringing.

“NEW ARRIVAAAAAAL!,” someone yells and the bar is in uproar. Banging and clanking and looking in anticipation. Some even rip their heads off and hold them up to get a better look at the newcomer. A bunch of dead cockroaches scurry around, carrying beer and snacks around. 

Haruno shoves some corpses aside. “Welcome Committee coming through! Coming through!,” she yells, plates with pastries in her hands. She approaches the newcomer and offers him some. “My name’s Haruno! Welcome to the underworld!”

Dazai does a double-take. “Akutagawa?! Is that you?” He gets up and approaches the fresh corpse with open arms. “You look good.”

Akutagawa turns around. His once pale skin is now a bright red, as if he was sunburnt. “Young master? Is this where you’ve been all the time?”

“It is! Surprised, eh?,” he asks in a joking manner.

“FUCK THAT SHIT!,” someone yells from the back. “HOW DID YOU DIE?!”

Akutagawa looks at the crowd weirdly. “I was crushed by a carriage. Although I think my lung disease killed me before I bled out.”

The crowd cheers and the cockroaches hand out another round of beers.

“I actually feel great,” Akutagawa continues, though the crowd is too busy celebrating, “my lungs don’t hurt anymore. In fact, nothing hurts at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re living the dead dream, congratulations,” Dazai says drily and waves him off. “How is everyone? Are my parents worried?”

“Pissed to all hell is what they are,” Akutagawa responds and stares into the beer, unsure. “Madam Yosano kept yelling about how she’d peel off your skin layer by layer, Mister Kunikida is quiet as always, oh, and Lord Mori was seen cleaning his musket…” He takes a careful sip, decides he’s not dead enough for it and puts the keg down. “Oh, and Mister Chuuya is getting married in the evening.”

Dazai laughs nervously. “Oh, ah, right, I know, to Lord What’s-His-Face, course, why would you-, I don’t care!” His head swivels around. “Ah! You haven’t met Atsushi! I’m his husband!”

“No, you’re not,” Atsushi says sharply. “You can just take this-.” He grabs the gold ring that is still stuck to his finger and pulls. It doesn’t come off. “Gah!”

Akutagawa stares with huge, bug-like eyes. “...What?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard the rumors?  I was seen galavanting in a graveyard with him-”

“How dare you,” Akutagawa snaps at Atsushi. “With Dazai-san-”

“Eyeyey, I have had no saying this since it’s begun!,” Atsushi argues, sick of it. 

Dazai leaves them to bicker, feeling the need for some fresh air. Which is hard to find in ghostville, ville of ghosts. He laughs at the stupid joke. “Ah, the last few hours have really been a whirlwind, have they not?” He looks up at the cheese moon and imagines a huge rat taking a bite out of it. “Who’d have thought that, in just a few short days, my life has tumbled upside down. My life has always been so boring. Boring, boring, boring me to death, but never fully committing. How funny, just as something interesting was going to happen, I finally got my wish.” He hops over a fallen over skeleton, the fella lying in pieces and singing drunkenly. 

“To think that I met the one who brought colour into my world again, and under such circumstances. And to be married! HA! I wonder how life would have looked like with him, but alas, another man has come to take my place. Well, everyone was saying that I wasn’t good enough for him, that this was a very disproportionate match. Nah, nah, it’s better this way, I belong down here, where I’ve always wanted to be. And he’s out of my reach now anyway, that Lord Farquaad-or-whatever can have him, I bet he’ll be a better lover, a more caring, more romantic, more… No, I belong… down… here…”

The silence around him is like the blanket he used as a small child. Smothering.

“Awww, that’s so sad!” The sound of someone blowing their nose makes Dazai snap out of it.

He whirls around but doesn’t see anyone. Something in his breast pocket moves and Kyouka peeks out. “You!”

“Me,” Kyouka says festively. She holding onto a dead leaf and chowing down on it. “Just a snack until your body starts decaying. I call first dibs!”

“What do you want?,” Dazai asks, weirded out. “Wow, seeing the maggot not peeking out of Atsushi is such a weird sight.”

“Ey!” Kyouka breathes deeply. “I have my eye on you! I’ve been with Atsushi for the past 138 years, and I will not let anyone hurt him!”

“Save it,” Dazai waves her off. “It’s already clear to me that I will probably be ripped to shreds by every dead inhabitant of this dead town if I act more stupid than I have been already. Gotta say, it’s heartwarming.” He looks at the glass chandeliers. “You know? I’ve been thinking on how to pass the time down here. Say what you want about me, I have at least inherited some of my parent’s business sense.”

“Uhu,” Kyouka says, uninterested.

“Just imagine the untouched market! With Atsushi’s abilities, we’ll be able to grow the market on candles and glass chimes! Exports! Globalization! Heck, he’ll be the richest little rotting corpse this side of the Earth’s crust!”

“Hu? What are you talking about?” Kyouka looks up from her leaf. “There’s no money down here.”

Dazai freezes. “... No… money?”

Kyouka shakes her head. “Everyone’s dead. You really think we’d have an economy down here?”

The blood drains from Dazai’s face. “I need to get out of this hellhole,” he wheezes. With that, he rushes back to the bar and kicks the door open with fervor.

“-and at about the fifty year mark your eyeballs will start getting unstuck and roll around your skull,” Atsushi explains matter-of-factly while Akutagawa listens, unfazed in death as he has always been in life.

“You two!,” Dazai pops out between them, slamming his hands on the table. “I need your help.”

“What?,” Atsushi asks, surprised.

“Anything for you, Mister Dazai,” Akutagawa says immediately.

With a grin, he snakes his arms around both of their necks and pulls them closer. “Akutagawa, I’m sure you would love the opportunity to see Gin again and tell her not to cry over you because being dead is amazing.”

Akutagawa blinks. “The first part is true, I guess.”

“And Atsushi,” Dazai turns his head, “I’m sure your non-beating heart is big enough to want to help me condemn the love of my life?!”

“That sounds bad,” Atsushi deadpans.

“You’ll finally get rid of me.”

Atsushi purses his lips. “Okay?”

“Great. I knew you two would help me.” He lets them go and, raising his arms high over his head, turns to face the rest of the bar. “EVERYONE! Great news!” The now familiar sound of numerous unrotten, half-rotten and completely rotten skulls turning towards him makes him smile. Oh, how he’ll miss this! “Our newcomer and very own, very loved Corpse Birde are getting MARRIED!”

Dead silence falls over the bar as the drunks, skunks and hallunks simultaneously turn to stare at Atsushi.

“What-”

“Come on,” Dazai whispers with a smile, “pliiiiiiiiz?”

Atsushi looks from him to the crowd to Akutagawa and Dazai again. “Uh… sure?”

The following cheers would have brought any living building down to its foundations. Dust whirls up and sawdust falls from the overhead boards as the roof trembles. Beer kegs get smashed against tables, flesh flies off of clapping hands and bones break as they tumble around in the madness.

Atsushi hides his face. “This better be for a good cause,” he whispers angrily.

“Of course,” Dazai laughs. “NOW THEN,” he yells over the absolute chaos reigning in the room, “WE’LL DO THIS RIGHT THIS TIME! GRAB WHAT YOU CAN AND FOLLOW US! WE’RE MOVING THIS WEDDING PARTY UPSTAIRS!” 

“Upstairs? I didn’t know we had an upstairs?!,” a rotting corpse in a skirt squeals excitedly.

“Sounds creepy!,” a little boy skeleton in a marine suit giggles.

“Let’s go!,” his friend with a braid exclaims.

Dog skeletons, rotting horses and donkeys, fully alive cats start screeching as the crowd rushes around. They spill onto the cobblestones, grabbing what they can, checking their outfits in the glass, prettying themselves up with a lit candle on their skulls and more.

“A wedding! A wedding!” 

Dazai grabs the two nearlyweds and rushes them out as well, towards the main plaza, where all the party guests will have enough space to gather for their trip.

“Hold on, hold on!” A Black Widow crawls up Akutagawa’s leg. “He can’t get married looking like this!”

“Do your thing, spider!,” Dazai exclaims and lets Akutagawa go.

“I think I look way better than a rotting corpse,” Akutagawa huffs.

“Tut-tut!” The spider whistles and more insects come crawling. “Your clothes are a mess! Your chest is crushed! And you reek of mud and smoke!” The spiders start sewing up the torn clothes, the cockroaches wipe dried flower petals on his skin and the flies break off dried mud and throw it away. “Don’t you worry, we’ll have you looking lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely!”

Haruno rushes across the kitchen, throwing everything she can get her hands on into a pot and stirring the bubbling, multi-coloured sludge.

“I need more dust! Fill the bowl with glass and rat poison!” She tries the sludge. “ No! I can’t make a wedding cake out of this!”

“We don’t have the time!”

“We are out of flies!”

The kitchen staff run around in a panic. One bumps into a table, splitting himself in half, slides over the surface and drops his nose in the sludge. Haruno takes a sip. “Perfect! FIRE IN THE OVEN! We can’t have a wedding without a cake!”

“HUZZAH!” The skeletons dressed as samurai brandish their katanas with cheer. “Our bride is getting married today!”

“Don’t call me a bride!,” Atsushi exclaims, more to make sure everyone knows he doesn’t enjoy being called that. “And you’re all taking this way too seriously!”

One of the samurai hoists him up on a rickshaw without wheels and a group of them carries them on their shoulders.

“How are you okay with this?,” Atsushi asks, bewildered, as Akutagawa gets thrown on there as well.

“That’s just how Mister Dazai is. I’m used to it,” he says nonchalantly.

“You’re used. To this?!” Atsushi gestures at the commotion.

“Oh, please. This is only the third time Dazai made me pretend-marry someone so he could get laid.”

Haruno bursts out of the bar. “The CAKE! The cake is ready!”

Her helpers carry a giant, jelly like cake on a huge platter, the rainbow sludge adorned with skulls and candles. 

“We’re ready! We’re ready! We’re ready for the upstairs!”

The crowd turns to Elder Fukuzawa, who came out of his tower to see what the fuck was going on. Dazai grins at him brightly and waves. With a sigh and a shake of the head, he opens his book and starts chanting.

🕸️*:...🦴🪦🦴…:*🕸️

The forest is quiet, the only sound being the soft caw-caws of a thousand crows sitting in the trees, waiting.

The frost on the ground cracks ever so slightly. It could have been a temperature change.

More and more cracks form, making the ice look like a spiderweb. The ground rumbles with thousands of singing voices. From one moment to the next, the earth splits open, corpses clawing out of their graves, earth-filled mouths singing and cheering. 

The murder of crows takes flight, their squawks matching the singing as they follow the parade. Ghost lights flicker, candles shake in the cold wind as the forest awakens with life.

Dazai leads the procession, taking big, dramatic steps, as if he was dancing, and leading the bunch of clattering skeletons, rotting corpses and dead stench all the way out of the forest, over the bridge and into town.

On their way, they reach a turned over carriage. Yosano is bandaging Kunikida’s arm up when she sees Dazai. However, her curses die in her mouth when she sees the ‘people’ behind him.

“Mom! Dad! I’m getting married!,” Dazai exclaims and marches past them.

“Should we… follow them?,” Kunikida wonders.

“Excuse me.” A corpse with broad shoulders grabs Akutagawa’s dead body and hoists it up his shoulder. “This will be the perfect wedding gift!”

“...”

“...”

The townspeople, wondering why the ground was shaking so much, scream in fright at the sight of the wedding party.

“Don’t worry, everyone!,” Dazai yells enthusiastically, “they are already dead! Hey, Higuchi! Has the wedding already started?”

The stable girl stares at her employer(?) and silently points towards the church.

“GIIIIIIN!,” Akutagawa yells. “GIIIIN!” He goes to jump out of the rickshaw but a nearby samurai stabs him with his katana and throws him back on.

“Atsushi will NOT have three failed marriages!,” he yells.

“The other two didn’t count!,” Atsushi yells, enraged. “...AND THIS ONE DOESN’T COUNT EITHER!”

While the dead clog up the narrow alleys and plaza, Dazai runs on ahead.

The church is on top of a nearby hill, built there so the Lord could look at its stunning architecture and also so the town wouldn’t be kept awake by Ace’s moans.

Though he isn’t the most athletic out there, Dazai makes it to the heavy double-doors in a few minutes. He throws his whole weight against them and slams them open. “I OBJECT!”

Ace slams his book shut, annoyed. “This is why I hate weddings!”

Mori calmly gets his musket out from under the bench.

“Chuuya!,” Dazai yells while marching up the hallway between the benches full of guests. His eyes are glued to the front, onto the fiery hair. And the person who first gave him the feeling most closely to love.

Who cares that it’s his wedding? Who cares that the groom is right there, staring at him with a slight smile on his lips? Who cares that Chuuya is glaring death daggers at him? Dazai was never one to care what anyone thought of him, so why did he start caring now? Why did he even start caring?  Why stop being the most selfish guy in town?

“Dazai, what are you doing here?,” Chuuya snarls. “You weren’t invited.”

In response, Dazai falls on one knee. “I love you, Chuuya! I have loved you since the first time I saw you! Marry me! Bleed me dry of all my money, work me to the bone to give you whatever you want and, when you’re done, toss me away like a dirty rag! But let me be the first!”

Chuuya sighs exasperatedly. “Are you serious right now?! You are so far off the script, you are in a different movie all together!”

“That’s it, I’ll take care of him,” Mori whispers and aims.

“Isn’t this a better outcome for you?,” Dazai exclaims. “Even if you don’t love me, I didn’t lie about my feelings! You’ll never have to worry about me locking you away, or limiting you!”

“You disappeared! With an unknown boy! The day before our ‘wedding’!,” Chuuya yells and makes airquotes. “As if I’d want to have a husband who can’t fucking decide!”

A grin spreads over Dazai’s face. “About that…”

The noise coming from the other side of the door rises and rises until the doors get slammed open and the dead parade comes waltzing in, singing and dancing.

The guests start screaming and scampering out of their seats to hide behind pillars.

“A wedding! A wedding!,” the procession sings as they lower the rickshaw.

Gin stumbles out of it first, looking confused but weirdly okay with the situation. Akutagawa follows, a huge smile on his face as he looks at Gin. She raises an eyebrow at him and, with an eyeroll, Akutagawa offers Atsushi his hand to get up. Atsushi looks just about done with everything.

“Dazai, I hope you’re finished with what you wanted to do, because I did not agree to have a whole ceremony just because of your-”

“Everyone! Meet Atsushi!” Dazai grabs him and holds him up.

“Can you all STOP picking me up!? I’m older than you!”

“That’s right, Chuuya! You weren’t hallucinating! And you should know that I wouldn’t just marry a corpse! I’m not a freak like Ace!”

“Hey! I wouldn’t let a corpse fuck me!,” Ace argues. “Can you imagine the stench? I have my standards! And, while we’re on the topic, no, I do not fuck clergy boys! I’m just into priestplay!”

“Thank you for that, Ace,” Dazai says sarcastically, “now I’ll have something new to think about!”

“You know, maybe financial ruin wouldn’t be so bad after all,” Kouyo thinks aloud.

Before Chuuya can properly digest the new… guests and formulate the right response to Dazai’s egregious words, Lord Fyodor starts clapping slowly. 

“Ah, what a glorious little show you put up there. To think that you’d awaken the dead just for me.” He slowly steps down towards him. “However, objecting at a wedding is very unelegant.”

“Oh? Stealing away my fiancée is more unelegant,” Dazai sneers and steps closer to lord Fyodor, puffing out his chest.

Lord Fyodor opens his mouth but something behind dazai catches his eye. He steps aside and tilts his head, squinting with suspicion. “Atsushi?,” he asks.

Surprised, Dazai turns to look back.

Atsushi is standing in a rigid position, eyeballs shaking slightly, his fists clenched. “...You.”

“Wait, you?,” Kyouka exclaims and looks from Atsushi to Lord Fyodor. “Oh! YOU!”

The corpses behind them gasps, more than one skeleton losing their jaw. 

“Wait,” Chuuya shakes his head, seriously confused, “you know him?!”

“Know him?,” Lord Fyodor gasps. The flickering candlelight darkens, the shadows grow bigger and the crows outside start picking at the glass windows. “Of course I remember him. Best virgin blood I’ve had all my life.” His eyes start glowing red and a gust of wind blows his long, black cloak away. He grins, the dim candle light reflecting from his sharp fangs.

Someone in the crowd screams. “VAMPIREEEEEE!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Ace throws his priest hat on the table. “I thought vampires were supposed to be buff! I knew I should have sniffed out a werewolf instead!”

“Oh thank god!,” Dazai wheezes and waves his hands around, relieved.

“Wait, you were killed by a fucking vampire?!,” someone in the crowd exclaims. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Atsushi turns around. “Because maybe I didn’t want to be reminded of how I was literally drained of all my blood, while alive and awake, and then tossed aside like an unneeded apple core!”

“Hey, this is miles better than what we thought,” Haruno mutters.

Atsushi’s head snaps in her direction. “Why? What did you think?”

“We thought you were fucked by a pervy older man!,” someone else yells.

“WHAT?!”

“To be fair, I thought that as well,” Dazai adds. “Which is why I’m so relieved.”

Atsushi glares at him. “Seriously? How is that worse than being murdered by being drank?”

Dazai looks at the crowd. “Who thinks being Atsushi being fucked by an old man is worse than being murdered?”

Kunikida immediately raises his arm all the way. All corpses raise their hands. So do the human guests, peeking out from behind the pillars, also Mori and Kouyo. Chuuya half raises his hand. 

“Some people are into that, you know?,” Ace yells from behind the altar, which doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone.

“Great. Now that that has been settled,” Haruno gets out her fork and kitchen knife, “let’s cut a bitch.” The other corpses also get ready to fight, katanas and umbrellas and femurs ready to go.

“We can’t,” Elder Fukuzawa stops them, “this isn’t our fight.”

“To think you’d come visit me on my wedding day,” Lord Fyodor continues with laughter in his voice. “Jealous?”

“That all happened a hundred fifty years ago. I’m over it,” Atsushi claims.

“Hundred thirty eight!,” someone in the crowd yells.

“A heads-up would have been nice!,” Chuuya yells from the altar, unsure on what to do. “Ace, I thought vampires weren’t allowed in holy places?”

Lord Fyodor laughs obnoxiously. “With a priest like that, there’s no way this place is holy.”

“Hey! The holy scripture never said anything about gay sex!,” Ace yells.

“Premarital gay sex is still premarital sex!,” Chuuya yells.

“...Oh, right.”

“In any case,” Lord Fyodor says and cracks his neck to look at Lord Mori and Lady Kouyo, “I thank you for your hospitality. And,” he grins, “for giving me your son.” 

The candles snuff, leaving the already dimly lit church in grey darkness. The guests scream and there’s a scuffle, before the candles light themselves up again with a blue hue.

Everyone looks around, confused.

‘Lord’ Fyodor is halfway up the stairs, hands ready to grab Chuuya, but is held back by a skeletal arm stabbing his cloak into the ground.

“Well, well, well,” he chants, amused.

In the blue light, Atsushi’s skin seems to glow even brighter. “I’m not letting you hurt anyone anymore.”

“Oh?” Fyodor easily rips the boney arm out of his cloak. “And how are you going to stop me? You’re nothing more than a rotting corpse.”

The skeleton arm in his hand comes to life and slaps him, making him drop it on the ground. It clatters onto the cold stone floors and starts crawling back towards Atsushi. 

Calmly, Atsushi takes Kyouka and puts her on Dazai’s shoulder. Without letting Fyodor out of his sight, he marches up to him, swooping his arm up and attaching it back where it belongs. “That’s right, I’m dead. Which means that you can’t do anything to me anymore.” He leaps at Fyodor and chomps down on his arm.

“Yeah!,” Dazai yells. “Chomp him, Atsushi!”

“KILL HIM!,” the dead crowd cheers.

“You… you go?” Chuuya aimlessly swings his arm.

Fyodor shakes his arm, not hurt in the least. “You shouldn’t act this childish at your age.” With a strong swing, he throws Atsushi against the nearest wall. Luckily, Atsushi  lands in the lush, thick curtains. “Really? Any kind of retaliation will fail, you know that. I am too strong for you and you’ve always been weak.”

“That’s right,” Atsushi says calmly while pulling himself up with the curtains. “My heart doesn’t beat anymore, so it can’t be filled with the wish for revenge. And even during my lifetime, I let people treat me like a doormat.” He glares at Fyodor. “But ever since I died, I have been treated with only mild disrespect! I have only been harassed about the way I died, but never about my looks, personality or interests! And, after a hundred fifty years-”

“Hundred thirty eight!”

“-I AM NO LONGER TRAUMATIZED!”

Mori winces. “Oh, that… that is not how that works.”

Atsushi grabs the curtains and, with a strong tug, rips them off of their holdings. The golden light of the setting sun floods the church and falls directly on Fyodor.

His skin immediately starts to brittle and fume, black smoke rising and the smell of fire coming from him. Fyodor covers his eyes and screams in pain, stumbling sideways to get to some shade.

Dazai whistles, distracted, and kicks him back into the sun.

Fyodor’s screams turn animalistic as his body contorts, still steaming. Before he falls and smashes on the ground, Fyodor’s body explodes into dark smoke and a bunch of bats start screeching around. 

Atsushi jumps and grabs the biggest one out of the air and then throws it to the ground. “You said you’d take me away!,” he screams and stomps on the bat fluttering on the ground, biting and scratching at his dead skin. “You said you’d show me the world!” The bat screeches as he kicks it around like a ball. “You said I’d be happy! YOU FUCKING @!!=&%!”

With one last stomp, the bat turns into a pile of ash, breaking apart with just a gust of the wind.

“Yeah! Woooooh!”

“SO SEXYYY!”

“...Why was the sun shining? It’s been raining these past few weeks!”

“Oh, my bad, I asked the Lord for good weather,” Ace explains, “nothing more romantic than watching the sunset while getting railed.”

Ever the opportunist, Dazai slides onto one knee again and opens his arms as widely as his grin. “Well then, Chuuya? Seems you’re out of options!”

With a long sigh, Chuuya waves him to come closer.

“Huzzah!” Dazai quickly runs up next to him. “Oh, right! The ring!” He turns towards Atsushi, who’s still stomping the ground. “Atsushi! I need the ring back!”

“Right, we need to make sure the connection is severed,” Elder Fukuzawa says gravely.

Atsushi grabs it and pulls hard, the ring not budging an inch. “It’s not coming off!”

“One sec.” Dazai runs over and takes Atsushi’s ring finger off. He slides the ring off in the other direction and gives Atsushi back his finger. “I put spikes in it,” he explains while showing Atsushi the inside of the ring. 

Atsushi stares at his finger. There’s little holes where the spikes prevented the finger from sliding off. “Why would you do that?”

“Obviously so that Chuuya can’t divorce me!,” Dazai laughs as if it was normal and gets back to the altar.

Chuuya stares at the ring. “Yeah,  I’m not putting that on.”

“Thata’s okay. I have a choker for you waiting back home.”

Ace nods in affirmation. “Very kinky.”

🕸️*:...🌙…:*🕸️

“I need to sleep,”  Chuuya mumbles while swaying on his feet.

“Aww, come on, Chuuya! I have to say farewell to my first spouse!”

The after party went on until well past midnight, and now the whole town is gathered at the graveyard to see how the fuck all those corpses will go back down.

“Woooh! I haven’t partied it up this hard since I was in the corpse of an addict! The colours I saw were marvelous,” Kyouka grooves.

“You sure you’ll be okay all alone?,” Akutagawa asks, worried.

“Brother, I won’t be alone,” Gin reassures him. “Higuchi has been very helpful with helping me… get over my grief.”

Akutagawa nods. “Alright, alright, I know you’re strong just… don’t follow me too quickly.”

“Why not?,” Gin asks, “the underworld sounds awesome. And I still don’t really know my brother-in-law!”

Atsushi twirls a strand of his hair. “You don’t need to call me that. It was all a ruse anyway-”

Akuatagwa quickly covers his mouth. “Stop. I don’t know what these people will do to me if they find out.”

“And don’t forget to add chocolate to the curry! It’s a trade secret!,” Haruno tells her descendant, who nods energetically.

“You are amazing, ancestor!,” he exclaims.

Dazai pats Atsushi’s shoulder. “Well, can’t say we didn’t have an energetic married life, right?”

Surprisingly, Atsushi doesn’t shut him down. “Right.” He smiles. “Thank you. Even though you’re a weirdo, a freak and a creep, I guess you helped me. I finally feel like nothing’s holding me here anymore.” His eyes wander over the forest. “Can’t say I’ve ever missed this place, but it was home.”

“We can still switch, you know? I am more than ready to-”

Chuuya stomps on Dazai’s foot to shut him up.

Elder Fukuzawa claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright now! We need to go back!”

With lots of groaning and moaning, the ghouls, souls and cools all gather over their respective graves. “Ie ni kaette!”

The ground opens up and swallows all of them. In the blink of an eye, the corpses are gone, back in the eart.

“Well, this has got to be the weirdest wedding I’ve ever been to,” Mori sighs.

Kouyo snaps open her fan. “I’ve had worse.”