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A transparent sky so blue it felt chilly, and the low drone of cicadas. The summers in Yokohama that Dazai remembered were always excessively vivid and unpleasantly hot. The humid breeze unique to port cities clung persistently to shirt collars, and the heat rising from the asphalt choked the breath out of people as if the entire city were sitting inside a giant steamer. The Armed Detective Agency office was no exception. An old fan rattled as it spun, and through the open window, white-bleached sunlight and the sound of cicadas poured in without respite. However, the summer unfolding before Dazai's eyes now bore a slightly different color. A sky blue so clear it made the eyes ache, the transparent sound of ice melting in a glass, and the flushed face of Nakahara Chuuya, suffering on the sofa with a blanket pulled up to the top of his head.
"...Achoo!"
The sound of a small, sharp sneeze lightly shook the office. Chuuya, who would normally kick Dazai for putting his feet on the desk or yell "You slackers!" at the agency employees procrastinating on their paperwork, was now unable to move an inch on the agency's sofa. The tip of his nose was dyed red, and a few strands of orange hair, wet with sweat, were disheveled and stuck to his forehead. He looked less like a bellicose gravity manipulator and more like a foul-tempered cat picked up from the street after being drenched in rain.
"Pfft."
Dazai eventually couldn't hold it back and burst into laughter.
"......I'll kill you, Dazai."
A fierce glare shot through the gap in the blanket, but his cracked voice didn't carry even half its usual killing intent. Rather, he was so weak it was almost cute. Of course, if he said that out loud, he might actually get grabbed by the collar, so Dazai only slightly curled the corners of his mouth.
A sudden summer shower during a case investigation was the culprit. The request itself was ordinary. A report of a warehouse near the harbor causing strange vibrations every night for several days, and a few missing porters in the vicinity. At first, the agency thought it was just a simple site check, but upon arrival, they found an underground passage dug by a smuggling ring beneath the warehouse, with traps using ability users installed inside. The moment the basement collapsed, Chuuya almost reflexively twisted gravity to push his colleagues up, and he held back the falling steel frames and concrete alone until Dazai could time the nullification of his ability from behind. The problem came right after. The moment they escaped to the surface, the sky split open as if it had been waiting and poured down a summer shower. Normally, Chuuya would have lightly repelled raindrops with gravity manipulation, but his body wouldn't listen after overusing his ability. In the end, he took the rain head-on, and even then, he boasted, "I'm not weak enough to catch a cold from this much." Then, the next morning, he appeared staggering in front of the agency door, running a fever as if to prove a point.
"That's why I told you to go home immediately yesterday."
Kunikida said, sighing in front of his desk.
"It's basic not to overdo it when you're not in good condition. I'll handle the report, so Nakahara, absolutely do not go out to the field today."
"Who... said I'm sick."
"Your voice is all cracked even as you speak, Chuuya-san."
Atsushi approached with a worried face, holding a wet towel.
"Wouldn't it be better to go to the hospital?"
"No. I hate the smell of hospitals."
"Then go home and rest."
Kunikida said firmly.
"If you send him alone, he'll definitely sniff out a case and wander off somewhere else, won't he?"
Dazai chimed in with a very cheerful voice.
"So it's better to keep an eye on him at the agency today. I'll specially become Chuuya's dedicated caregiver."
"That's what's most unsettling, you damn mackerel......"
"Wow, even with such a high fever, your insults are accurate. As expected of Chuuya, you're healthy."
Thus, Chuuya was semi-forcibly laid on the sofa, covered with a blanket, and stripped of his work, while Dazai pulled up a chair and sat glued to his side. At first, everyone looked at the scene strangely. They were two people who would bicker whenever they crossed paths. Dazai teased Chuuya about his height, Chuuya grabbed Dazai by the collar, and when the two were assigned to a case at the same time, the resolution rate was abnormally high, but the office repair costs rose along with it. Yet, those two were strangely quiet now. To be precise, Dazai was acting playfully as usual, but his gaze remained fixed on Chuuya's breathing and complexion.
Dazai placed his hand on Chuuya's forehead with a playful touch disguised as kindness.
"Wow, it's hot. Chuuya, if this keeps up, that small brain of yours might completely cook. What if your already bad head gets even worse?"
"Get your hand off me, you bastard......"
Chuuya snarled reflexively, but soon took a small breath. Dazai's hand was strangely cold. It was cool, like someone who had been sitting in the shade for a long time even in the middle of summer, so the sensation of it touching his feverish forehead wasn't as bad as he thought. No, to be honest, it felt quite good. Chuuya pouted because he didn't want to admit it, but eventually, his eyelids drooped weakly.
"......It's cold, so just for a moment."
At those words, Dazai's playful behavior stopped for a very brief moment. It was a moment so short that no one would have noticed. However, he soon smirked nonchalantly as usual.
"Heh, to think the day would come when Chuuya needs my hand. I should record this. 'Nakahara Chuuya, faced with a summer cold, demands Dazai Osamu's hand.'"
"I'll kill you if you write that."
"Threats from a sick person are cute too."
"I said I'll kill you."
"Yes, yes, do it later when you're healthy."
Dazai lightly pressed the glass he was holding in his other hand against Chuuya's cheek. Chuuya's shoulders flinched at the cold sensation.
"Cold!"
"Now, it's treatment time for the good boy. Barley tea with plenty of ice."
"Hah? What kind of crazy person gives ice water to a cold patient!"
"They say even dogs don't catch summer colds, but Chuuya did, didn't he? So ordinary prescriptions won't work."
While saying so, Dazai wrapped the glass in a handkerchief so that the water droplets forming on the outside wouldn't fall on Chuuya's collar and placed it in Chuuya's hand. Chuuya pouted but took the glass and carefully moistened his throat. The ice clinked against the wall of the glass, making a refreshing sound. That sound spread, lightly cutting through the sound of cicadas drifting in from beyond the open window. It sounded like the cool sound of waves, or the sound of glass wind chimes from far away.
"...It's hot."
After drinking, Chuuya tried to push off the blanket as if feeling stifled, but Dazai quickly wrapped the blanket tightly back up to his shoulders.
"No. You have to sweat it out to get better quickly. That way you can help with the agency's work sooner, right?"
"Are you pretending to nurse me just to use me, you mackerel bastard......"
"You caught me?"
Dazai gave a playful wink. However, his touch was more careful than expected. Every time his fingertips, adjusting the blanket, touched the nape of Chuuya's neck, he stopped moving very slightly as if checking if the fever had risen further. Chuuya noticed that. Having known him for a long time, he could distinguish the very thin line between Dazai's jokes and sincerity. And he also noticed that the line was repeatedly blurring now.
"You... don't act weird."
"Me?"
"Normally, you would've teased me more. Calling me a sickly hat-rack, or a gravity manipulator who lost to a cold."
"Wow, that's good. Can I start now?"
"Don't."
"Okay, I won't."
Chuuya narrowed his eyes at the overly submissive answer. Dazai was smiling, but his eyes weren't just smiling. He looked as if he were recalling Chuuya's back as he held up the collapsing ceiling alone at the scene. The sight of him staggering after getting hit by the rain saying he was fine, the way he caught his breath leaning on the corner of a desk as soon as he crossed the office threshold, and that stubborn face as he adjusted his hat pretending nothing was wrong.
"You know, Chuuya."
Dazai spoke slowly.
"Sometimes I think you believe your body is made of iron."
"What?"
"It's fine to get rained on, it's fine to get hurt, it's fine to be tired, I can still move even if I'm about to collapse. You keep holding on with that face. It's really foolish."
"Are you one to talk?"
"I'm a fool to begin with, so it's fine."
"Don't make me laugh."
Chuuya grumbled lowly, but Dazai didn't respond. Instead, he soaked a handkerchief in water and placed it on Chuuya's forehead. Chuuya let out a small breath as the cold, wet cloth touched his skin. The sky-blue summer light reflecting outside transparently illuminated Chuuya's reddish cheeks and sweat-soaked hair. The person who normally seemed too strong and vivid to touch was now a bit blurred because of the fever. That was somehow so unfamiliar to Dazai that it was hard to bear.
"Dazai."
"Yeah?"
"Don't make that face."
"What face?"
"A face that looks like... I'm going somewhere."
The office became quiet for a moment. Only the sound of Kunikida turning pages in the distance, Atsushi carefully putting down a teacup, and the cicadas crying their hearts out outside continued faintly. Dazai didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then he laughed lightly as always.
"Where would Chuuya go? You're so small. If you get lost, I'll find you in no time."
"Do you really want to get hit?"
"A patient needs to rest."
"You're the biggest obstacle to my rest."
"But you'd be bored without me."
Chuuya tried to retort but coughed as his throat tightened. As the short coughs continued, Dazai immediately lifted the glass to Chuuya's lips. Chuuya tried to take the glass with one hand, but he couldn't put much strength into his fingertips. Seeing that, Dazai tilted the glass for him without a word. Chuuya frowned as if his pride was hurt, but this time he didn't push it away. As the cold barley tea went down his throat, the inside of his burning body seemed to cool down a bit.
"I'm quite a sight, aren't I."
"Yeah. A total mess."
"No intention of comforting me?"
"Chuuya is pretty even when you're a mess, so it's fine."
Chuuya froze with the glass in hand. Dazai had a very calm face. He said it so nonchalantly that it was impossible to tell if it was a joke or sincere. The tips of Chuuya's ears grew redder, whether from the fever or another reason.
"...Stop talking nonsense that makes my fever rise."
"It's not my fault your fever rose, is it?"
"It is your fault. It's all your fault."
"Then I guess I have to take responsibility."
Dazai said so as he took the glass from Chuuya's hand and set it on the table. Then he sat back down by the sofa and took Chuuya's hand. It was a hot hand. The palm, not wearing a glove as usual, was damp with heat, and the fingertips were trembling slightly. Dazai looked down at that hand for a moment. That hand had destroyed countless things, supported countless things, and pulled Dazai up at countless moments. The hand that handled gravity. The hand that grabbed someone by the collar. The hand that gripped a glass roughly. And now, the hand lying quietly in Dazai's hand, exhausted by fever and unable to apply any strength.
"Dazai."
"What?"
"......My eyes sting. Go away."
Even as he said so, Chuuya's fingers were weakly gripping the hem of Dazai's coat. An unconscious hold, telling him not to go. Dazai stared quietly at that small movement, then overlapped his hand over it. Chuuya's hot hand and Dazai's cold hand met, creating a lukewarm temperature.
"I'm not going. I'm going to stay right here until Chuuya passes the cold to me. Then I can legally take a break from work too."
"Ha... I really detest you, you know."
" I'll take that as meaning you like me very much."
"Are your ears just for decoration?"
"They're there to listen to Chuuya's voice."
"...My fever's really rising."
Chuuya sighed as if it were absurd, but he didn't pull his hand away. Whether due to the heat or a sense of relief, his eyelids grew increasingly heavy. Dazai tenderly brushed back Chuuya's sweat-soaked bangs with his other hand. That touch was excessively quiet, unlike his usual nonchalant and annoying attitude. Like someone touching something fragile, or someone holding onto something they might never be able to catch again if they let go once.
"Hey, Chuuya."
"......What now."
"If you're hurting, you can say you're hurting."
"......"
"There are many people at the agency who are annoyingly nosy. Kunikida-kun will nag, Atsushi-kun will worry like he's going to die, Yosano-sensei will bring terrifying medical tools, and Ranpo-san will say he knew it all along while eating snacks. And I......"
Dazai paused for a moment. Chuuya looked at him faintly through his half-closed eyes.
"And you?"
"I'll keep being noisy by your side. Until you wake up annoyed."
"That's the worst."
"So you'd better get well soon."
Chuuya laughed softly instead of answering. It was closer to a breath escaping than a laugh, but Dazai didn't miss it. Chuuya kept his eyes closed for a long time, then murmured in a very low voice.
"I guess I'm a person of this place now too."
"The Armed Detective Agency?"
"...Yeah. It's still strange. Me lying on a sofa in a place like this, you pretending to nurse me, a nagging guy in glasses writing my report for me, and a tiger kid changing my wet towel."
"Isn't it nice?"
"It's noisy and chaotic."
"That means you like it."
"Don't interpret it however you want."
But there was almost no strength left in Chuuya's voice to deny it. Even after coming to the agency, he often thought he didn't belong here. The smell of blood from the past, the dark corridors of the Port Mafia, the world of the night made of orders and obedience still remained somewhere inside him. The bright daytime office, the piles of papers on wooden desks, the flowerpots by the window, colleagues nonchalantly stealing each other's lunch. Such scenes sometimes felt surreal. But today, strangely, that unreality wasn't bad. His body was heavy and his head was foggy because of the fever, but the fact that someone was by his side made him feel oddly at ease.
"Dazai."
"Yeah."
"When I fall asleep...."
"Yeah."
"Don't be noisy."
"I'll try."
"And don't go anywhere."
The last words were almost like a breath. They were so faint that even the speaker didn't seem to know exactly what he had said. But Dazai heard it. Vividly, terribly vividly.
He looked down at Chuuya for a moment and then laughed very softly.
"I won't."
This time, he didn't mix in any jokes or teasing. Perhaps because of that, Chuuya didn't respond further. A cool breeze blew through the open window, lightly brushing between the two. White curtains fluttered refreshingly against the blue sky, and papers on the desk stirred slightly in the wind. From the glass where the ice had half-melted, a small clinking sound occurred occasionally. The sound of cicadas was still low, but it suddenly sounded as if it had moved a bit further away.
Dazai changed the wet towel on Chuuya's forehead and covered him again so the blanket wouldn't slip off. Then, he leaned his back against the sofa without letting go of the hand he had finally caught. Normally, he would have laughed at this situation, teased him, and used it as a weakness for a long time to come. But just for now, he didn't want to. Chuuya's sleeping face was too quiet, the summer sunlight was too transparent, and the warmth in his hand was too hot. When the sense of being alive was placed so blatantly on his palm, even Dazai couldn't carelessly cover it up with a joke.
"Good night, Chuuya."
He whispered lowly and softly.
"When you wake up, the summer will be a little cooler."
Chuuya didn't answer. Instead, the fingers holding Dazai's hand tightened very weakly and then relaxed. That alone was enough. On a transparent summer day shining bright blue, only the regular breathing of the two and the sweet sound of ice melting echoed clearly inside the Armed Detective Agency office. The sound of cicadas grew distant, and the hot air gradually cooled. And Dazai did not leave that spot for a long time even after Chuuya had completely fallen asleep.