Chapter Text
The sea was a green serpent, thrashing against some greater force, turbulent and cold in equal measure. Dazai watched the waves crest remotely from the craggy cliff he sat upon. From this distance he could count the whitecaps if he cared enough to do so. Sea birds were absent from the view as the sky looked like it could open its floodgates of rain any moment.
A gust of wind bit at his face but the pain was nothing compared to the resolve that he had summoned that morning. If he was being honest, he couldn't remember a time that he hadn’t harbored the intent that he set out with today. But today was different.
Today would be the day he would finally succeed in carrying out his plan.
Dazai pressed the already raw skin of his knuckles into the fine grains of dirt and withdrew as soon as it began to burn. He had wrapped his body in bandages before leaving and he wondered if wearing them would help to weigh him down beneath the waves.
Would drowning be painful?
With a sigh he got to his feet and brushed off his dress pants. Despite not attending a physical school, his father, Mori, always insisted that he dress formally at all occasions. It was just one of the many ways that the man enacted control over his son’s life.
The sky was an oppressing shade of gray that matched the buildings in the near distance. The city was teeming with people and he felt his lip twitch at the thought that his actions would be the juxtaposition of such immense life.
If he had brought his paint and canvas with him, the scene would certainly make a beautiful painting. But Dazai had priorities, and he had long ago retired the diversion of art. What was his future worth if he didn’t plan on having one anyway?
He shifted his weight between his feet and inhaled deeply. At first he thought about removing his heavy shoes but then figured that keeping them on might ensure that he sinks and make the whole process faster.
Dazai approached the edge of the cliff and his mouth twitched. Anticipation coursed through his veins. The drop below was no small thing. In fact, he suspected that it was upwards of twenty meters and if he did not die upon impact, he would become paralyzed or crushed against the massive rocks that jutted from the sea.
Swan Song, he concluded, lifting a foot to step over; that would have been the title of the painting. He would have painted the sky a stark gray, more white than shadowed, the water that particular shade of azure, the city in its vibrant shades of life. And the boy poised on the precipice of death… Well, the black blot of his life hardly mattered now. His story would end soon.
“What are you doing?” A voice cut through his reverie and he whirled inelegantly in its direction, a witty remark intended for the person who interrupted his careful plan.
Dazai’s words died on his tongue.
Framed by the canopy of green trees, stood a boy so ethereal Dazai wondered if he had truly died. Had he stepped off the ledge already? Had it been that blessedly quick? Was this the face of an angel to escort him to the afterlife?
Strands of red hair escaped a careless ponytail and framed the angel’s delicate face.
The angel’s mouth pulled down in irritation at Dazai’s silence. “Are you just gonna stand there and ignore me? What the hell are you doing?”
Not dead then, Dazai realized with a sinking feeling in his chest. But damn if he wanted to look at the boy before him just a little longer.
“I’m jumping of course,” Dazai answered with a small shrug. “But you have rudely interrupted me. So, I have a question for you: what are you doing here?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Dazai realized that they were the same shade as the water below but somehow more tempestuous.
“I don't have to tell you shit. If you’re looking to throw yourself off a cliff, there’s a higher one across the-”
“Is there really?” Dazai interjected and clasped his hands together in elation. He had chosen this location carefully; it had been the setting he used to paint from and therefore held sentimental value. It felt right for such a place to host his last moments.
But if there was somewhere higher, well… That would increase the effectiveness of his attempt tenfold.
As if understanding the thought the minute it materialized in Dazai’s head the boy’s face twisted in confusion. He adjusted the inky guitar case on his shoulder before finally responding.
“No,” he said, without humor. “There isn’t a higher cliff. There is only this one and it is my place. Now that we have established that, you should leave.”
Dazai chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think you can just claim a whole cliff.”
“What are you talking about?” The boy argued and a few strands escaped his ponytail, waving about his face like flames licking the wind. “I've been coming here for years.”
“I’ve never seen you here,” Dazai admitted flatly. “I’m sure I would remember someone with a quick temper like yours. How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long have you been coming here…”
“Oh, hell no. I’m not giving you my name.” The boy’s mouth turned down in distaste. “I’ve been coming here for the past two years. I think that gives me some rights to it.”
“Hmm,” Dazai muses. “I’ve been coming here for three.”
“What?”
“I’ve been coming here for three years. Meaning that you will have to pay the finder’s fee if you plan on frequenting this spot.”
The boy’s rage seemed to boil over and he closed the distance between them, seizing Dazai roughly by the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t close enough to the edge so as to make it a real threat. Rather, Dazai found the unexpected turn of the interaction exciting.
His heart pounded as the boy leaned closer, his eyes promising violence.
“Listen here, if you want to be a mackerel so badly, just take a few more steps forward. I won’t stop you. I just want my spot back.”
Dazai’s brow furrowed and he pretended to consider for a moment before responding. “You know,” he chuckled darkly. “If you hadn’t put it that way I might have actually gone through with it. But now, I kind of want to stick around to exact an awful price for future use of this spot.”
An angry sound came from the back of the boy’s throat. His grip tightened and his knuckle brushed Dazai’s throat.
“You’re going to live for spite?”
“Spite seems as good a reason as any.” Dazai felt his mouth tug into a grin. “Why did you hike all the way up here with a guitar anyway?”
The boy shoved him away and took a breath. “This is the only day I’m allowed-” He cut himself off. “This is the only place I can practice.”
“Are you any good?” Dazai asked, finding himself actually interested in the stranger.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know if you’re good?”
“I haven't ever played in front of anyone.”
“Well, this is your golden opportunity then,” Dazai said darkly. “I am a very critical individual therefore my feedback will be exceedingly helpful.”
“Yeah,” the boy muttered. “I gathered as much.”
“Go on then,” Dazai plopped down on the ground and waved a hand with a flourish. He found that he no longer cared if the ground would ruin his clothing. “This can serve as the finder’s fee for today.”
The boy glared darkly at him but then produced the guitar from its case.
“Oh, what the hell.”
Long fingers plucked at the strings and Dazai watched him cock his head close to the instrument to hear the notes before finally straightening to meet his eyes.
“This is called Frankenstien.”
“That’s cheerful,” Dazai observed indifferently.
“Shut up before I change my mind,” he snorted, throwing Dazai a dark look. Dazai held up his hands innocently and the boy took a steadying breath before beginning.
Reborn a vessel void of life
Time passes
Slowly, slowly
Covered in frost and snow
Life spent without others
Leaves much I have not achieved.
Fellow creatures I’ve been found guilty of a crime
Oppressed each night by a slow
Fever, fever
Solitude is no consolation
Its chasm is deep and deathlike
The red thread of fate frays slowly away.
A beat of silence passed between them and Dazai fought to compose his expression as the boy met his eyes. Of course he had heard music and appreciated it as well as any seventeen year old boy might. Of course he had musical preferences and songs that he detested but what the boy before him had just produced…
It transcended both categories.
His voice stripped Dazai bare. It was as if this boy had glimpsed a flicker of the loneliness that resided within him and contained it in a song.
It was emotion at its rawest form. He had held a fragment of himself and had allowed Dazai to truly see him.
But Dazai did not tell him any of that.
“I think you mean ‘the red string of fate’.” Dazai corrected.
The boy blinked. “What?”
“Like the story,” Dazai explained. “You know, where a ‘red string’ is metaphorically tied to a boy’s thumb and to his true love’s little finger.” He held up his hands and wiggled his digits for emphasis. “Eventually they find each other and live out perfect lives until they decide to divorce and split custody of their kids.”
“That seems pretty personal,” the boy muttered. “But I think it’s only that way for girls.”
Dazai felt himself frown. It wasn’t often that he was ever corrected. “What do you mean?”
“In the story, the string is only tied to a boy’s thumb if he is in love with a girl. If a boy weren’t in love with a girl that would make it-”
“Pathetic?” Dazai interrupted.
The boy narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t getting my meaning but whatever. I don’t have a string,” he said remotely. “I have a thread that hangs around my thumb and it isn’t connected to anyone.”
“You are cheerful, aren’t you?” Dazai observed.
“Didn’t you just try to jump off a cliff?”
Dazai grinned despite himself. Mori kept him so isolated from others that he was desperate for someone to interact with. Even if the only social tools his father had equipped him with were his arsenal of literary knowledge and the intent to wound others so badly that they would think twice before ever striking him again.
“We should meet again,” Dazai suggested. “Next week for the finder’s fee. I can give you more helpful feedback.”
If anything, Dazai told himself, it would be entertaining to meet with this boy again. Maybe it was worth not following through with his plan if he could irritate this small person for a while longer.
The boy’s face was unreadable as he shifted his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably.
“Look I’m not... Someone you want to hang around.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, the red strands falling against his face. His guitar rested against its case as he stood to face Dazai.
Dazai really might have laughed at the absurdity of the statement. “And you think I am?”
“No,” the boy’s brow furrowed. He glanced between Dazai and the sea. “No, you’re right. This might actually work.”
Dazai got to his feet animatedly and flashed the boy a grin. “See you next week then- oh, you never gave me your name. I doubt you’d want me to make up something for you like slug or chib-”
The boy’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets when he responded. “Chuuya. My name is Chuuya.”
“I’m Dazai.”
He began walking toward the treeline when a voice cut through the sound of the waves colliding with rock. It rang with unmistakable desperation.
“Dazai,” the word escaped almost as if Chuuya had not intended on saying it. “Don’t- don’t come back here before then.”
Dazai’s lip twitched. “Why not? Have I won you over with my charm and now you’re afraid of the feelings you harbor for me?”
“No!” Chuuya exclaimed. “I- nevermind. Do whatever you want.” He glanced down at his instrument again and Dazai couldn't help but feel that the boy- Chuuya was the brightest thing he’d seen in months.