As The Petals Fall

Rumours
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“What do you mean by ‘stay away’?” Chuuya’s eyes narrow as he’s staring down at his
friend sitting by the wall. “I live here.”
Shirase shrugs under the piercing gaze. “I didn’t mean for you to actually leave , just...maybe
stay home for a few days?”
“Stay home.” The redhead repeats, crossing his arms over his chest, not caring about how
dirtied with ink they are. “And what about my work , huh?”
“You always do it here anyway, just keep it with you until--”
“I don’t see any reason why I should be hiding or delaying my work just because some
travellers are passing through.”
“Chuu-- Ugh , Yuan, a little help here, please ?”
They both turn to the pink-haired girl who’s been silently sipping on the tea Chuuya served
them before and playing with the stray cat that likes to sneak inside, knowing no one would
ever have the heart to throw him away. She’s sitting closer to Shirase than to Chuuya, but still
far enough to try and not be a part of the argument.
Clearly, her plan failed.
“You too ?” Chuuya’s voice is accusing with a hint of annoyance ringing through it, rightfully
so considering they’re all supposed to be friends and not traitors .
“What? Wait, no-- I mean…” The cat that’s been resting on her lap until now jumps off when
Yuan starts fidgeting in her place. “It’s not ‘staying away’, more like… staying low ?”
Abandoning the painting he’s been working on until the conversation shifted to that topic,
Chuuya moves to the door of his small hut to let the cat scratching at the door out, but the
frown doesn’t leave his face
“Right. Not showing myself in the village or talking to anyone for fuck knows how many
days because I’m ‘staying low’ is completely different from being asked to just leave .” The
night air hits his face as the door opens, filling Chuuya’s lungs with the smell of the
surrounding forest. “Thanks so much.”
“Chuuya…” Yuan puts the cup down on the floor next to her. “You know that’s not what I or
Shirase meant. We just don’t want you to get into trouble .”
“She’s right.” Shirase tries again, watching as his friend sits down by the opposite wall, right
next to dozens of inked papers laying around. “There’s no need to give others even more
reasons to be spreading rumours about you.”
His words only make the frown on Chuuya’s face deepen. “What rumours?” He hasn’t heard
anything about this, he’s always so nice to everyone and he never felt any ill-intent from any
of the villagers either. “Don’t tell me it’s about that one fight, the guy deserved it!”
“No, it’s not about that.” Yuan sighs, shifting on the cushion she was given to sit on. Her face
suddenly turns troubled, or uncertain, just like Shirase’s when he hears her speak again. “It’s
about that other stuff.”
Chuuya looks between the two, waiting for an explanation because they clearly know
something he doesn’t, but his friends only avert their eyes when his gaze falls on them.
Just what is going on?
What is Chuuya missing?
The redhead sighs heavily before letting his expression soften into something less... annoyed
. He doesn’t particularly enjoy fighting with his friends, but he also doesn’t like being told to
isolate from the village without a reason.
“What other stuff?” He eventually asks, leaning his back on the wall and stretching his legs
forward. All of his kimonos are already ruined with ink, getting a little dirtier from dust
won’t make a difference.
“Well…” This time it’s Yuan searching for help from Shirase, but the boy doesn’t seem any
more eager to speak than her, shaking his head in desperation. “It’s a small village and…
people talk .”
“Yeah, obviously.” Chuuya also talks with them, that’s just normal.
“Yes, but…”
This is all very confusing. Shirase is just being himself, but Yuan never lacks confidence.
She’s almost as vocal about her opinions as Chuuya, never the one to back away, so what is
making her so nervous now?
“Listen.” Finally, Shirase decides to stop hiding behind her and speak again. “You know how
the last group of travellers that passed through here just… disappeared ?”
Yeah, Chuuya remembers them.
“You mean those two men who beat Minato-san’s dog to death ?” He doesn’t even try to hide
how he feels about them. The villagers only let them stay because they were officials from
the city and no one wanted to cause trouble with the local council.
“Yes, the--”
“Why would anyone care about them?”

“It’s not that!” Shirase sighs again, his hands fisted in the grey kimono. “Yes, everyone was
happy when they disappeared but someone saw you talking to them the evening before.”
“Okay…” It’s not like anyone in the village has the right to ignore officials, even if they
aren’t that high-ranked. “Wait, you don’t think I killed them, do you??”
“ No , but…”
“ But? ”
“It wasn’t just once , Chuuya.” Yuan answers this time. “Or at least, that's what people are
saying now. Apparently, Shogo saw you talking to that woman who came here last year the
day before she disappeared.”
Chuuya doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His friends , despite saying they don’t actually
believe that, are acting as if he was the murderer while--
“Shogo wasn’t even here at that time!” The redhead argues, looking from Yuan to Shirase,
they should know that. “He was away for a whole month and that woman only stayed for
three days! ”
“Oh, come on, Chuuya!” Shirase runs his hand through the silver hair before leaning forward
to rest his arms on his crossed legs. “It doesn’t matter whether he was here or not. What
matters is that he says he saw you, and people believe him!”
“Exactly.” Yuan agrees. “We just don’t want you to risk it. What if someone sees you again
and then these travellers disappear too?”
“So what, people think I’m a murderer now?” The same people who keep smiling at him
every day? The same people that the redhead helps whenever they ask for it? He even
lowered his prices for the poor, old man who just wanted a present for his soon-to-be-bride
daughter.
His family thinks of him as a criminal ?
“No, no…” Yuan must be feeling guilty, hearing how betrayed Chuuya sounds, because she
moves closer and places a hand on his shoulder. “No one thinks you killed them.”
Great.
He can get some comfort in all of this.
“So what do they think?” He still feels betrayed in a way, but the familiar hand on his arm
somehow manages to soothe Chuuya’s anger. They’ve been sticking together for years now
and have known each other even longer - they’re supposed to trust each other, so Chuuya’s
mind automatically leans into the touch. But Yuan doesn’t answer. Instead, her hand slightly
tightens on his arm, head turning towards Shirase and long, pink hair falling down from her
shoulders.
The boy doesn’t look happy about being handed over the responsibility of telling Chuuya the
truth, but they can’t back away anymore. He has the right to know, and maybe if he learns
about it, he’ll be more careful .
Maybe the rumours will stop eventually.
“They say…”
Shirase clears his throat, but he can’t look his friend in the eyes as he says it. He doesn’t want
to see the betrayal in them.
“...that you’re a bad omen .”
As Chuuya’s fourth day of not going anywhere nears its end, he starts getting restless.
He finished all the paintings he was commissioned for, cleaned the whole place (except for
the old ink stains on the wood that are never coming off) and he’s already halfway through
rewriting an old book he was asked to copy.
Oh, the joys of being one of the very few people who know how to read and write around
here.
But there are only so many things he can busy himself with. Yuan and Shirase dropped by on
the first day, but they have their own responsibilities too and can’t spend every second with
this bad omen of a friend. They’re supposed to tell him when the travellers leave and Chuuya
is trying to be patient about it but--
How is it fair ?
He’s lived here most of his 20-year-long life, never caused any problems except for this one
fight with some drunk and rude man. Sure, maybe his temper can slip sometimes, but he’s
not dangerous . He just wants to get by with his drawings and occasional side jobs.
He just wants to live in peace .
Knock, knock.
Chuuya gets up from his spot by the small fireplace in the middle of the hut, sighing in relief
that he’ll finally get to talk to someone that isn’t a stray cat.
“Can I fucking go out no--”
“Oh.” The stranger standing on his doorstep, reeking of alcohol, looks over Chuuya, a
disgusting grin painted on his face. “So you are as pretty as that old hag said.”
What the fuck?
“Who the hell ar--”
“Hey, beautiful .” The man leans on the doorframe, almost losing his balance and falling
down but gripping the wood at the last moment. “What about spending the night with me?
I’m going to be very rich very soon...”
Chuuya’s insides are boiling with rage and disgust after the man even dares to suggest
something like that. He’d rather stay on his home arrest forever than get any closer to the
creep. But he’s trying to listen to his friends’ advice and not cause a commotion with any of
the travellers. And this man is most definitely not from around here.
“Fuck off.” The redhead growls at the man.
“Oh, I get it.” The stranger tries to straighten his back, but his body sways backwards and
soon enough, Chuuya is looking down at the drunkard covered in dirt and mud from last
night’s rain, sprawled on the ground in front of his hut. But the stubborn creep doesn’t shut
up. “You want the money first, don’t you, beautiful?”
One more pet name and Chuuya will become a murderer.
With no regrets. He’ll be doing the world a favour.
“Get lost, old man, before I make you.” He’s about to shut the door in the man’s face, but his
arm stops when he hears the low mumble from the ground.
“...demon’s gold will make you more pliant, brat…”
What did he just say?
"...you'll be begging me to…" The stranger's attempts at getting up only end up with mud
splashing around. "I'll come out of that fucking forest with more gold than the fucking
emperor has…"
He wouldn't mean…?
Chuuya narrows his eyes at the man who somehow managed to stand up again and is now
turning around and walking away in a swaying step in not exactly the village's direction. It's
late and dark, and it's not Chuuya's problem if the creep gets lost on his way.
The redhead closes the door, irritation growing in his stomach because he wore his only clean
kimono today and now there are brown spots all around its bottom. But he doesn't even reach
the fireplace before he hears a knocking sound again. If that bastard is back--
"Chuuya?" A sigh of relief escapes him at the sound of Shirase's voice. He's in a bad mood
and there's still a part of him that feels betrayed, but...
One argument isn't enough to write off years of friendship.
"You've got some nice timing, you know?" Chuuya says as he walks back and opens the door.
"One minute earlier and maybe you'd get an invitation to throw up in disgust too."
There's faint concern painting under a thick layer of confusion on Shirase's face. "What?"
"I had a visitor just now." He rolls his eyes and steps to the side, letting his friend inside. "A
very drunk one. And he was just asking for the beating of his life."
"Someone from the village?" Shirase asks carefully, slowly walking up to the small fire and
sitting down next to it when Chuuya nods at him.
"No. I've never seen him before."
"One of the travellers ?"
"Probably. Not that I would know what they look like." Chuuya's tone may be harsher than
he'd want it to be, but with everything that's happened... He's allowed to be a bit less polite.
He still offers Shirase some water and leftover rice cakes, though.
"Did anyone see him coming here? Did he go back?"
" That's what you're asking first?" Not how Chuuya is feeling, but whether someone caught
him being home ? "Sorry but I was too busy trying not to punch the stranger harassing me in
my home , so I didn't have the time to look around for witnesses . "
"I just wanted to--"
"Make sure there'll be someone to blame?" Chuuya hisses, his gaze piercing through his
friend like needles. Maybe he should have pretended he was asleep.
"I--" Shirase tries, but his voice dies in his throat. He sighs and runs a hand down his face,
shoulders shrugging before meeting Chuuya's stare again. "Look, I'm sorry. Really. "
It sounds honest and, despite the anger, the redhead chooses to trust these words.
"Are you okay?" His friend continues. "Did he do anything?"
"I'm fine." Pissed off, but physically fine. "He asked me to... spend the night with him, but I
refused and he walked away."
"I can understand the throwing up part now." Shirase wrinkles his nose at that, the same
disgust Chuuya felt clearly showing. "But how did he know you live here? How did he know
about you in the first place?"
"He said something about an older woman mentioning me being..." Chuuya makes a face at
the memory of that creep saying it. " pretty ."
The other boy's face twists again as he takes a sip of water, but then his mouth stretches in a
guilty smirk as his voice tries to sound teasing. "Flower stall grandma? She does that a lot ,
remember?"
The conversation began awfully , but now even Chuuya huffs a laugh.
Yeah. He remembers very well.
"Sure." He rolls his eyes and sits down opposite to the other man. "Every time she's trying to
set me up with one of her granddaughters."
Unsuccessfully, but it is funny every time.
And only a little awkward.
"Well. They're very nice..." Shirase smirks suggestively at him, amusement starting to dance
in his eyes--
"Want me to tell Yuan you said that?"
--before it stops and his face goes pale .
"Please don't."
It's only been a little over half a year since he and Yuan got together after Shirase spent his
entire life trying to impress her. From giving his best in every childhood game they played to
working extra errands just to be able to afford a present for her birthday. And the girl wasn’t
oblivious to it, she knew very well about her friend's feelings, everyone knew, and it's not that
she wanted to be cruel - after growing up with just her mother, Yuan simply didn't believe in
love confessions. Not after she saw her father walk out only to never come back.
She didn't believe in it and decided she didn't want it.
But Shirase was very... stubborn . Some even called him desperate over the years, but that
never lessened his efforts. And after almost two decades of trying…
Yuan believed him.
Now he just needs to not mess it up.
"If you have any mercy in your heart, you won't do it." And he's ready to beg if that's what
Chuuya wants.
"Hm, well you did hurt me a little just now..." Making his friend stress a little isn't a bad
thing, it's simply payback but, as it turns out, he does have mercy. "Relax." Chuuya huffs at
his friend, a teasing grin stretching on his face. "I won't tell. I've already had enough fun
watching you struggle all these years."
"Wow, thanks ."
They stare at each other for a second before they both start laughing, just like old times. Well,
older than three days .
It's times like these, that the redhead cherishes the most. Sitting in a warm room, with
whatever food they have, laughing and bickering until no one other than them three can tell
which threats are real and which are not. It's enough to make the creep's visit seem like
nothing important, like a few minutes Chuuya won't even bother to remember, and the whole
rumours situation…
Well, it's not his friend's fault.
Yuan and Shirase have always been there for him, before he moved away and after he came
back, and even if Chuuya was hurt by their tones last time--
They just wanted to help .
"So" The redhead starts again after he's calmed down. "Why are you here?"
"I can't visit ny best friend without a reason now?" The other boy takes a bite of the rice cake
he was offered, making his pouting face even more childish.
"You know what I mean." Chuuya rolls his eyes but takes one sweet for himself. "I guess I'm
still on house arrest since that guy was just here"
"Actually, they're supposed to be leaving tomorrow morning."
Oh, finally .
"And you couldn't tell me that tomorrow?"
"Chuuya," Shirase starts, almost with a serious face. "If you think I'm a morning person, then
you've clearly gone mad while staying here." And then a shy smile blooms on the boy's, his
eyes looking to the side as his voice turns more shy. "I knew you'd want to go out as soon as
possible, so I came now."
That makes Chuuya smile as well because--
Yes, he really wants to get out and see the village.
"And we seriously don't think any of that bad omen bullshit is true."
"I know." Or at least that's what Chuuya believes. "But thanks."
"Anything for my man." After a moment, Shirase adds: "Unless you snitch on me to Yuan,
then I'm taking you down with me."
"Deal."
—
To be honest, Chuuya isn't much of a morning person himself, however , today is different -
today he has his freedom back .
He's been awake since sunrise, but it's only when he sees people walking around in the
distance from his window, that the boy decides it's time.
With the paintings carefully placed between paper sheets and wooden panels, an empty bag
to be filled with food for the rest of the week, the redhead walks towards the village, basking
in the sunlight hitting his skin.
It’s warm, the sky is clear again and the fresh air resonates with the sounds of people getting
ready for the day. Chuuya's hut isn't quite in the village, it was built by his parents a long time
ago where the forest meets the river, a good 15 minutes walk from the next closest house, but
he doesn't mind. He likes the peace, how quiet the nights are ( usually ), and even if,
compared to everyone else, it is a bit secluded from the others... It's his.
It's filled with memories from his childhood, from before he moved away after his dad died,
and he feels safe there.
...although now, he really needs to spend some time with people.
His first stop is the house of, oh the irony, the flower stall grandma who ordered a painting
for her granddaughter's birthday - a scenery of the sea that the girl loves so much.
"Ah, Chuuya, you're here!" The old lady greets him with a smile when she spots the redhead
coming her way. "I haven't seen you in a while, or is it just my memory getting worse?"
But before Chuuya can even return the greeting, she continues, gesturing for him to come
closer.
"Well, regardless, did you consider my offer? None of you are getting any younger, believe
me."
Ah, of course.
"I'm glad you seem healthy and in high spirits, Ino-san." He smiles at her, nodding politely.
"But I'm afraid my answer is still the same."
"Yes, yes..." She waves her hand at him just as always. "But if you do change your mind..."
He won't and she probably knows it, but this topic has become something of a tradition
between them.
"I'll let you know if I do. For now, though, I finished the painting you asked for."
"Oh! Why didn't you say so sooner, show me, show me..."
Out of all his clients, Ino-san and the old man from the fish stall at the end of the market are
Chuuya's favourites. They never ask for the impossible and their reactions are always so
heartwarming and satisfying to watch. Seeing the shining eyes and wide smiles is like getting
a second payment, but instead of filling Chuuya's pockets, it fills his soul with happiness.
It's his work that makes these smiles appear. His paintings.
With a handful of coins and a white flower tucked behind his ear (a present of gratitude, as
Ino-san said), Chuuya walks down the main street, smiling and greeting every familiar face
he sees. The villagers don't seem any different from usual, which is a good sign, but now that
he knows the things that were, and probably still are, being said about him…
He can notice things he didn't before.
How, despite their smiles, people rarely ever start a conversation with him. Before, Chuuya
thought it was a matter of him growing up - everyone here loves indulging children in
answering their never-ending questions, when you're a teenager they like to keep up with
what you're up to, and as a fresh adult, Chuuya thought people were simply trying not to
disturb the little free time he allows himself from work.
He thought they were too busy with their own lives to still be keeping in touch the same way
they used to.
But now he sees it.
They smile, but also quickly avert their eyes. They answer his greetings, but also walk away
right after. They will talk to him, but only if he takes the initiative.
He doesn't feel not welcome in the village, there is no hostility towards him, it's just... It feels
lonely when people who were supposed to be his family are scared of talking to him.
And Chuuya can't do anything about it.
No one publicly accused him of anything, no one gave him a chance to defend himself and
make things right. No, the villagers decided to stay quiet and just not risk talking to him if it's
not necessary. And if he tried to say something now, if he let them know that someone told
him about the rumours - what good would it do? Make them think he's angry? Make them
even more scared of him?
Chuuya can't win with words, not now, he needs time to show them he's still the same boy
they knew, the same man that came back a few years ago.
It's frustrating, but he can be patient, he can wait.
He simply doesn't want to be alone forever .
"Ah, hello boy."

A familiar sound brings Chuuya back to the present, the thoughts clouding his mind slowly
fading away. The man sits under the tree next to his sweets stall, just like he always does, and
looks up at the redhead with a soft smile.
"Are you feeling better now?"
Chuuya bows politely at the elderly man, trying not to show how the question confused him
for a second. Was Shirase's excuse for Chuuya's absence that he was sick ? After he was
asked to stay away--
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you very much for your concern. I finished the piece you asked for."
"Oh, wonderful!" The man beams, slowly leaning away from the tree. "Come, help this old
man stand up and see it."
The painting, again, is received with a gentle smile, the man's eyes turning even warmer as he
admires the portrait of his soon-to-be bride granddaughter.
"You know," He says quietly. "I wish you were here when I was getting married all these
decades ago, my wife would love something like this. Not that I could have afforded it at the
time." The man laughs to himself and Chuua chuckles at the confession, not saying anything
yet, though, because..."I wish she was still here."
The redhead never got a chance to meet her, but he knows the pain of losing one's family - he
knows how long the pain can hold onto someone's heart, and he can only offer silence to the
man whose smile has always had this sadness to it for as long as Chuuya remembers.
"But who knows, I may be joining her soon. These people who came here..." He sighs
heavily, putting the paint safely on the stall and searching for his bag to pay the redhead.
"They almost gave me a heart attack twice in just a few days."
That information makes Chuuya's brows furrow. "What happened? Did they do something
or...?"
If the rest of them are any similar to the creep that came to his hut, then they may have
caused trouble for the villagers and Chuuya wouldn't know about it.
Did they hurt anyone? Did they try something inappropriate --
"They're a bunch of rude youngsters without any manners." The man's face twists. "And they
got even worse after drinking without paying the bill. I don't know what they came here for,
but gods bless us with them gone now."
It doesn't sound like anyone got hurt physically, Shirase didn't mention anything happening,
but Chuuya can't help how his mind goes back to the man that paid him a visit last night.
What if his companions were worse and actually tried something with any of the girls? What
if they'll be back and someone gets hurt then?
The village has always been peaceful, its people don't like conflicts and, more often than not,
it results in them being used and looked down on by the travellers.
They never fight back, especially elderly villagers.
It's Chuuya that stands up for them, but he can't do that if he has to stay away . He can't do
that if it makes people more scared of him.
Finishing giving his works to his clients and shopping for groceries takes Chuuya the whole
morning and into the afternoon. By the time all of his paintings are gone and his bag is full of
food, the Sun is already starting to lower in the sky. With a steaming bun in his hand, Chuuya
strolls down the main road, searching for the spot where he knows Yuan spends her breaks
from helping at the tea house. And he's not surprised to see Shirase sitting next to her, both of
them waving at Chuuya when the redhead comes from around the corner.
"Enjoying life outside?" Yuan greets him with a cheeky smile, but her voice is almost
apologetic, just as it was last time.
"What do you think?" Chuuya swings his bag, arguably more full than it usually would be, in
front of the girl's face before sitting down on the grass next to her. "I even got a new client."
"And I burnt myself with tea today, how unfair can today get?" The overexaggerated sigh
tells Chuuya that it wasn't anything too serious, but he still worries about her. Strong-willed
and independent as she may be, Yuan likes keeping these things to herself a little too much.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, this idiot here already freaked out enough for the three of us, so don't worry about it."
"Hey!" Shirase glares at his friend and girlfriend trying to suppress their laughter when they
see his face. "I worry because I care ."
Which is sweet, they all know it, however…
" And I'm not an idiot, come on!"
Chuuya and Yuan both burst out laughing at the pause before that sentence and how Shirase
didn't feel the need to defend that part until he actually thought about what his girlfriend said.
"Sure." Chuuya teases.
"Whatever you say, Mr Desperate-for-20-years." Yuan rolls her eyes at him but her voice is
soft, much softer than it would be not even two years ago.
She may have ignored these feelings growing in her chest for years, but once she accepted
him... Shirase may be the one who fell in love first, but now Yuan cares for him just as much.
She probably has for a while without realising it.
"But it worked !"
Yes, it did.
Chuuya will forever remember how his friend shed tears of joy when his wish was finally
answered, he'll forever remember how the sight of pure happiness before his eyes made his
heart fill with warmth and a sense of relief.
The redhead's life was filled with all kinds of emotions. Sadness, joy, grief, anger, guilt ... But
he has never been the one to chase the impossible himself. Chuuya accepted the happiness
the world would grant him, but never sought more.
There were good days, but the only ones that would stay in his mind have always been the
ones when he shared that happiness with his family and friends. Even now, every time he
remembers the day Shirase knocked at his door, face red with dried tears and with Yuan at his
side, too emotional to actually explain what happened until it was the girl that had to say it,
Chuuya's lips always curl up in a smile he can't fight.
He's seen them go through so much.
He's seen them struggling and overcoming the problems along the way.
And he's truly glad they can all laugh together now. It makes Chuuya think… Maybe one day
in the future, when they're older and wiser, maybe he'll be able to see Shirase even happier .
Maybe he'll see Yuan be the most beautiful bride in the village.
It's a wish Chuuya holds in his heart, a wish they all hold dear, even if none of them ever says
it out loud.
But would life actually allow the redhead this chance?
Would this cruel life allow any of them to see the day of a marriage that's only just a dream?
Chapter End Notes
Thank you for reading~
This story is based on a thread I’m writing on my Twitter (@Black00cat1) - what I’m
writing there is the first draft and ao3 version will have some more dialogue/descriptions
+ NSFW scenes later on
It will be updated here every few days but if you’d like to read ahead, the thread can be
found here: As the Petals Fall
I’m always happy to interact with readers and you can also ask me questions
anonymously here: Tellonym
Escape
Chuuya doesn’t leave the village until the Sun is about to meet the horizon, giving up the day
to let the dark night fall upon the world. He can feel a hint of tiredness in his legs, but his
mind is content with the time he has spent among his people after having to stay away for
days. It may not have been that long, but the reason as to why he couldn’t go out has been
weighing on his soul, making each hour stretch like a week.
It’s not perfect, considering the rumours, but it can be.
But for now, it’s enough .
Tossing his bag inside the hut, Chuuya heads to the river - he doesn’t want to let go of this
day just yet. He’s walking slowly, eyes admiring the mesmerising colours painted on the sky
and the tenderness of the trees swaying in the lazy wind. How long has it been since he had
the time to get lost in the beauty of his home? How long has it been since he could relax his
body while the nature around him soothes his mind?
He’s been too busy and then too angry to appreciate it the way he should, but now…
It’s just him, just this river he knows so well and the forest that may not actually be safe , but
has never seemed foreign to him. Those are the bushes he grew up with, trees that saw both
his good and bad days, it’s the tranquillity that can be one’s downfall if they’re not careful,
but for Chuuya it’s a scenery full of memories he holds dear.
The redhead looks up at the clouds lazily flowing in the darkening sky, at the birds dancing
above his head and singing their evening songs…
SWOOSH!
SPLASH!
The hissing sound or air and the sight of a calm water surface suddenly turning violent are
quickly followed by sharp pain blooming on Chuuya’s arm as his other hand comes up to
press at… the wound?
Why is he hurt?
What happened?
He’s disoriented and lost, all of his senses focusing on the sting on his arm and how wet it
feels–
Oh, he’s bleeding .
“Don’t move, boy.” Chuuya hears an unfamiliar voice calling to him from behind,
accompanied by someone’s footsteps and when he turns around, the redhead sees six
strangers coming his way, one of them holding a bow with another arrow aiming straight at
him. “That was a warning, but this one won’t be so nice.”
They’re all grown men, each with some kind of a weapon in hand - a bow, knives, and
probably even more hidden in their clothes - and none of them are from the village, which
can only mean…
The travellers didn’t leave after all.
So that creep really got lost, huh?
“What do you– agh! ” Chuuya tries to hiss at the stranger, but his words are cut off by the
groan escaping him as one of the men throws a knife that grazes his thigh before stilling in
the ground behind the redhead.
Both wounds hurt , but they’re not too serious. He can still suppress the pain and move if he
needs to and, considering the situation, he will very much need to be quick. The true problem
is their number and the fact that all the escape Chuuya has is the wide river behind his back.
Not ideal.
“You see, our friend is missing.” The same man says, the tallest of them all, playing with a
long blade in his hands. “And I think you know where he is.”
Yes, but that knowledge won’t do them any good now. Plus,this isn’t the nicest way to ask for
help either.
“I don’t even know you, fuckers.” Is provoking people who already threatened to kill him
smart? Probably not. But is Chuuya going to let them think he’s just a scared, little boy? Also
no.
There are only a few steps between them and the redhead now, the group spread around in a
circle, cutting off his means of escape.
Fantastic.
“But you’re the only redhead in this shithole, and we saw you coming out of that stack of
wood you call your house. And our friend was very specific about where he was going.”
“Your friend getting lost is not my problem– UGH! ”
Chuuya falls down to the ground after one of the men hits the back of his knees with
something long and hard , making the wound on his thigh pulse with a new wave of pain.
“But it is mine , boy.” The man comes closer, looking down at the redhead with a satisfied
grin. “And even if it’s a waste to mess up that pretty face of yours, I will get you to talk, one
way or another.”
“I don’t know .” Chuuya hisses at him, blue eyes scanning the surroundings for an opening. “I
told him to fuck off and his drunk ass went back. End of story.”
“Well, he didn’t get back even until now, so my guess is…” He saw it coming, but the kick to
the side of his face still sends Chuuya rolling on the ground. “That you’re lying .”
His head feels dizzy from the impact, eyes struggling to focus as he’s trying to blink the
shock away. He registers some of them laughing and vaguely sees the man holding the bow
lowering it.
Progress.
Very little progress, but still.
“So I’ll ask again.” The man squats down next to Chuuya, his knife sliding right under the
redhead’s chin. “ Where is my companion?”
Now, Chuuya has two three options:
One. Repeat what he already said and get beaten and cut up.
Two. Lie and face the same fate a bit later.
Three… Try his luck .
The blade pressed to his neck is the only weapon actually pointed at him right now, other
men clearly letting their guard down since Chuuya is already hurt and lying on his back. If he
makes even the smallest mistake, he’s dead, but if he’s quick enough…
He may have a chance.
But only one .
“Don’t make me wait, brat.” Chuuya feels the tip of the knife breaking his skin and drops of
blood sliding down his neck. “I’m still being nice here and you don’t want to see me mad .”
The redhead takes a deep breath, taking as much time as he can to calm his mind and make
his eyes focus again. Just as the blade presses deeper into his flesh, Chuuya moves .
His hand grabs the man’s ankle, yanking it toward him and making the stranger fall
backwards, dropping the knife on the grass.
But he doesn’t stop.
He can’t stop, or he’ll lose his chance.
Using the two seconds of confusion it created, Chuuya shoots up, grabs the knife that landed
right next to his face, jumps over the group’s leader and starts running straight for the forest.
The village would be a wiser choice, but for that he’d have to run around the group, which
would be too risky when considering the men are already running after him.
“Get that piece of shit back here!” He hears the man screaming behind, but his eyes are set on
the line of trees so close and, yet, so far .
His head is still spinning and his leg is killing him, but Chuuya is forcing his body to move,
driven by pure survival instinct. The few seconds gave him just enough of an advantage that
he may be able to disappear between the trees before they reach–
“ AGHH –!”
Another wave of pain shoots through his body, this time much stronger and making him fall
to the ground on his side again. The pain is the worst on the lower side of his stomach, but
it’s quickly spreading through his torso and legs, and when Chuuya’s hand moves down, it
grabs an arrow sticking out of his body, right over his hip.
It hurts as hell , and his vision goes white for a moment, but the steps are getting too close .
The fastest of the group reaches him just as Chuuya is trying to force his body to get up, and
the man hits his back with a bat, making the redhead flatten on the grass again which in turn
painfully pushes the arrow out.
Everything hurts.
There’s ringing in his ears, blood in his mouth and he can barely see anything but, somehow,
when the man grabs his hair and pulls him up Chuuya finds enough strength to stab him with
the knife he took before.
The man screams in pain and lets go of the redhead, holding onto his leg where the knife is
embedded until the hilt. Chuuya is losing blood fast , but the rest of the group is getting
closer and he can’t let his injuries win just yet.
He stumbles to his feet, pushing the man just before the next stranger can reach him, making
both of them fall to the ground. His kimono gets ripped in the process, as one of them grabs it
before falling, making the arrow hit the grass as well, but Chuuya ignores it.
As long as his legs listen to him, as long as his body can move , he won’t care about a
destroyed piece of clothing. His breathing is heavy, vision blurry and there are very angry
screams coming from behind him, but finally the redhead reaches the line of trees.
He’s not safe.
But here he can try to lose the group.
With one hand pressed to the wound on his stomach in a desperate attempt to stop the
bleeding (clearly, not working), Chuuya runs between the trees, fallen leaves and branches
cracking under his feet. Pain shoots through his body with every step, his leg and back
screaming in agony with every move.
He wants to stop.
He wants to rest.
But he doesn’t want to get caught .
Lower branches leave scratches on his face and exposed body, leaves sticking to drying and
fresh blood on his kimono. Wet hair is getting in his eyes, making his vision even worse and–
Gods, he’s so tired.
Just a little rest, just a moment to make it stop …
“Shit–” Just as Chuuya’s mind is contemplating giving up, the redhead trips over a root
sticking out of the ground, falling forward until his knees hit the cold grass. The only reason
why his face isn’t down there as well is because he’s holding himself up with his hand on…
A small fox statue.
A hard, cold and dirty with Chuuya’s blood fox statue.
No.
No, no, no, no, no –
It can’t be real, Chuuya grew up in these words, he wouldn’t lose his way and come here just
because–
Just because he wasn’t looking ? Because he wasn’t thinking about where he was going as
long as the men didn't catch up to him? Because his vision is all red and blurry and there was
no way he’d see the blue–
Ah, is that it, then?
He almost got away from the group that tried to beat and shoot him to death only to be killed
by a kitsune that’s believed to live somewhere in the forest. The most vicious kitsune known
to humanity, the one that absolutely loathes mortals, or so the legends say. And now, Chuuya
crossed into its territory and spilled his human blood on one of its statues.
This really is the end for him, isn’t it?
Even if he tricks his mind into not believing the legends… He has no strength left to move
anyway. He can’t even get up because he can’t feel his legs.
And he’s so cold all of a sudden.
Faintly, Chuuya can hear the men getting closer, but what does it matter? He lost too much
blood, his head is spinning and his eyelids are so heavy. He did enough, right? He tried and
he failed and now…
Now he can finally rest .
Just as he gives up, an image of his friends - smiling and waving at him - comes into
Chuuya’s mind, his heart clenching one last time at the thought that he’ll never see them
again.
Will anyone even find his body?
...will there be anything left of him to find?
As his consciousness gives into the darkness and his body falls to the ground, Chuuya
wonders: who is going to get to him first? The men chasing him?
Or the fox ?
Ah, how truly disgusting to have such worthless blood soaking into the ground, making his
forest sick.
The kitsune looks down at the six corpses with cold eyes, thinking of them as nothing more
than trash disrespecting what's his . The men weren't even entertaining enough - too easy too
kill - only disgusting and a waste of time.
With hands hidden in the sleeves of his dark kimono, the fox turns around as hot, blue flames
envelop the bodies, burning only the dead flesh and nothing else. He walks without a hurry
towards the border of what he has claimed to be his home, towards the small statue he placed
for the foolish humans to keep away from.
Usually, he doesn't step outside - not because he can't , as some legends about him falsely
state, but because he has no reason to - but he made an exception. The kitsune wouldn't want
these men walking on his land now, would he?
The night has already settled upon the world, but the kitsune's eyes don't mind the dark,
they're comfortable with it, more than with the sunlight probably. And as that, his gaze falls
on the body lying just past the statue, a body barely warm and keeping onto its life-force.
There's blood, so much blood everywhere around it, and it's still flowing out of its wounds.
"How stubborn." The fox says with an amused smirk. He can smell the same blood trailing a
long way to the forest's border. "Such a small and fragile human running around until his
body can't take it anymore."
He steps closer until his feet reach the pool of blood, his head tilting to the side.
"Tell me, human, was it worth it? Was all of it worth this ?"
But, of course, the answer doesn't come. The boy can't hear him, so he can't answer. He's
barely breathing and, with the night swallowing the world, it won't be long until the body that
fought so hard turns into a cold corpse …
"Well."
...or so it would .
"I'll be looking forward to your answer~"

Trap
It hurts.
He doesn't know where he is, only that he's surrounded by darkness. He doesn't know whose
voices he's hearing, only that he can't make out any of the words. Chuuya doesn't know
whether he's alive or not - he only knows that everything hurts .
It feels like he's floating, but then it's as if he's being thrown on the ground laid with stones .
He's cold and hot at the same time, shivering and twisting in pain, but then unable to move.
He's awake and he's not . He's trying to force his eyes open, but his eyelids are too heavy.
He's trying to speak, to ask what is going on, but his voice won't come out.
He's trying to think, but his consciousness is slipping.
And it's so easy to let himself fall, to not feel this pain anymore and listen to the few muffled
words getting through the fog of his mind.
Safe.
Is it really? Did he lose them?
Rest.
Can he? Will all of this go away then?
Sleep.
Maybe he will. Maybe it's fine. Maybe the darkness is his salvation…
Chuuua doesn't know how long he's been drifting in and out of consciousness, but he can
finally feel the fog clouding his mind fade away. He can feel his body and the surroundings.
He's warm, but not burning anymore, so it can't be the cold grass in the forest. He's lying on
something soft, much softer than he's used to, so it can't be his hut.
...is he dead?
Is this heaven?
But the moment Chuuya tries to move and pain shoots through his body again, he lets go of
that thought. Maybe it's hell .
But it feels too real, he feels too alive .

His body is heavy and any attempts at moving his legs come with new waves of pain, but he
registers more with every second. He can move his fingers, his arms are weak but they don't
hurt as much. Breathing doesn't hurt anymore.
There's a faint smell of medicine in the air, mixed with... miso soup? It's silent, if not for the
quiet sound of…
Is someone humming?
Or is it Chuuya's imagination?
It's almost too quiet to hear, or maybe that's just his mind still recovering. Where is it coming
from?
...where is he?
Chuuya squeezes his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm the throbbing in his head, and when
he tries to open them–
They don't.
His body isn't listening to him, so Chuuya tries again. And again, and again until his eyes
finally crack open. At first, he doesn't realise they're open because his vision is blurred with
black, but as he tries to focus his mind, he realises there is light around him, just very dim.
And he sees a ceiling - a normal, wooden ceiling like many others.
But it's not his .
The redhead blinks a couple of times, both trying to see and actually wake up . It's hard,
exhaustion already creeping into his head with something as simple as opening his eyes, but
he fights it.
The sound. It's louder now.
Or maybe Chuuya is more awake.
Where is it coming from?
He tries to look around, but it's just the same ceiling turning into wooden walls, still slightly
blurry.
But he can hear it.
It's there .
Chuuya groans when a new wave of pain explodes from his back, but he somehow manages
to turn his head, eyes narrowing and expression twisting with effort. The movement, small
and slow as it is, still makes the redhead's vision turn all black before he can try to focus it
again. There's more light closer to the floor, or so he thinks, and there is white, and black,
and...blue?
The humming doesn't stop, no, it turns more playful as Chuuya tries to make out just what
he's seeing.
First, he sees the clothes - a black and blue kimono - on a person that is probably a man. He
has...brown hair, probably? But there's something strange about it. Is he smiling? Is he
leaning on white cushions? Is he…
There is something white sticking out of his hair and the similar white behind him is moving .
A play of light, maybe?
But the more Chuuya focuses, the more his mind clears - his breathing speeds up again, even
if it makes his chest scream in agony.
These are tails . This is no man . And the single red eye is staring right at Chuuya when he
finally realises–
"Hello, little human."
–it's not over yet.
Chuuya reacts on an instinct, his mind waking up instantly and searching for a way out , but
he can't run if his body won't even move . Forgetting about his wounds he tries to get up, but
the moment his shoulders push away from the futon, the redhead is reminded of them. He
falls down again, his arm moving to his stomach where it feels like he's being cut open. His
body is twisting in pain at the sudden movements, making Chuuya cry out and a single tear
fall down his face.
"Hmm, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
He's curled up on the side, arms wrapped around his middle, breathing heavily to try and ease
at least some of the pain, but to no avail. He must have reopened some of the wounds, he can
somehow feel like he's losing blood again, but there's something much worse about it. Half of
his face is pressed into the pillow, muffling his groans and soaking the tears, but Chuuya
forces one eye to open and–
He's still there.
It wasn't a hallucination.
The kitsune sits just where he did before, legs crossed and a small book in one hand, long
tails making it seem like there's a white glow coming from behind him. Half of his face is
covered, but that one eye is enough to send a shiver down Chuuya's spine, pinning him down
and making it impossible to even try to think about running away.
Which is exactly what he should be doing. Stay here is–
"If you try to move, your wounds will kill you."
He knows but how can he stay calm when there's someone much more dangerous in the
room? Someone who can make his death longer and more painful than any wound ever
could?
Why...
Why is he here? What is even happening?
"Unless..." Chuuya can see the kitsune tilting his head to the side, a playful grin stretching on
his face and voice dripping with mock curiosity. "Do you wish to die, human?" The sparkles
dancing in the red eye make it hard for Chuuya to control his breathing. "Do you want to end
your suffering?"
The fox hasn't moved any closer, but Chuuya feels as if his presence is looming over him. He
doesn't understand why the kitsune asks these questions. Is he trying to trick Chuuya into
giving up? Into accepting and begging him to end it?
He doesn't understand, but he doesn't give in.
Instead, the redhead squeezes his eyes, forcing new tears to fall and burn on his skin, and
shakes his head. He doesn't trust his voice yet, but he knows the fox expects an answer, and
that is the best he can do with his whole body screaming at him in both pain and fear.
"Well." He hears the other getting up and coming closer, but his eyes are still shut. "Then stop
fighting."
Chuuya flinches when a hand rests on his cheek, moving his head so that when he opens his
eyes, the kitsune is right there. Looking at him from above with cold satisfaction. And with a
small bottle, no larger than a finger in the other hand.
"You can heal the natural way and risk your body giving up anyway. Or… " The fox grins as
he shakes the bottle. "...you can drink this and live . But the pain will make it seem like you're
dying."
As if it isn't doing just that already.
But Chuuya doesn't dare to say it, he doesn't dare to do anything , not with the hand on his
face keeping him still without any force behind it.
"Which will it be?" The question comes again. "Which will you choose, human?"
There's no guarantee the fox isn't offering him poison instead of medicine, trickery is what
kitsunes are known for, but does it even matter? He didn't run to put off his death, he ran to
live . And if trusting this fox, this very dangerous fox, is the only way to make sure it wasn't
all for nothing–
He doesn't have a choice, does he?
Chuuya doesn't answer, not with his voice , but his decision is clearly visible in the blue eyes
looking up at the kitsune, making the fox show his lethal teeth in a wide grin.
"Good boy."
Chuuya feels a thumb pressing on his lower lip, slowly but firmly pushing his mouth open
and–
"Drink. And when you wake up..."
The liquid tastes sweet, but it's only an illusion of relief before it sets his insides on fire .
"...we'll play again~"
And so, darkness swallows Chuuya again.
His body feels sore but... the burning is gone.
His head isn't throbbing anymore, he can feel his limbs and it doesn't hurt to try and move
them. The futon is soft and warm and–
Finally , Chuuya doesn't need to fight to open his eyes.
He's lying on his side and facing the sliding door from behind which he can hear birds
chirping their songs. It's not his home, not his futon. Sitting up is still a bit of a challenge - his
body, mostly his stomach, hurts but it's bearable. It feels like he's been punched all over, but
that kind of pain is nothing compared to what Chuuya remembers from the hours upon hours
of drifting in and out of consciousness.
The movement makes the loose clothing he's been wearing (again, not his ) slide off from one
shoulder, exposing white bandages wrapped around his stomach and arm. Now that he sees
them, Chuuya can also feel the same bandages on his legs and his neck, but he doesn't feel
any sharp pain from underneath them. It's mostly just soreness and skin pulling at closing
wounds.
There's a big cup of what looks to be water next to the futon, and a small plate with three
onigiri placed on it. Chuuya's throat suddenly feels very dry, he doesn't know how long he
was out, but even swallowing is hard now that he sees water left for him.
But he doesn't touch it.
He doesn't dare touch it.

He's alive, he's awake, but it doesn't mean he's safe .
Chuuya hasn't forgotten the red eye staring down at him with mischief, he hasn't forgotten the
white tails looming over the dark figure and, most certainly, Chuuya hasn't forgotten how the
fox offered to kill him. With a smile .
The redhead looks down at his fisted hands, trying to collect his thoughts and come up with a
plan , but no matter how much he tries, he always arrives at the same answer: he can't run.
He can try, but he will be caught the moment he steps out of this room, and fighting against a
kitsune only ever brings one outcome, the one Chuuya has just barely escaped.
He's trapped, he–
The sound of someone's footsteps makes Chuuya turn his head towards the door and hold his
breath. His body is completely still as the figure on the other side halts and slowly slides the
door open to reveal the same fox Chuuya feared to see again.
In the light of day and without the fog clouding his mind, the redhead can see the kitsune
more clearly. The blue pattern on the black of his kimono: leaves falling and dancing in the
wind of the night, almost as if they held the Moon's shine in them. Brown hair falling down
the other's face and hiding the white fabric covering the right side of it. The same is wrapped
around the fox's neck and disappearing under the loosened clothes.
Chuuya sees it all but he can't appreciate the beauty of the pattern or dwell on his confusion
about the bandages, because none of it matters. Not when one red eye is enough to keep his
gaze hostage. Not when the kitsune stays silent and, instead, only grins at Chuuya.
Then he steps closer and Chuuya flinches .
Another step, and the redhead is slowly moving away while still on the ground, but never
looking away from the fox. When his back hits the wall on the other side of the room, the
brunette is staring by the-now-empty futon, his head tilted to the side and a brow arched high
in amusement.
He's showing his fangs , but he's not saying anything, only a quiet humming ringing through
the air. With a racing heart, Chuuya watches as the other sits down by the futon, legs crossed
and hands hidden in the sleeves of his kimono.
The silence is almost suffocating , but Chuuya doesn't dare speak.
He knows the stories. He knows they're true , at least in some parts, and even if the kitsune is
the one who saved him...
How can he know the fox won't change his mind?
Releasing blue eyes from his hold for a second, the brunette glimpses at the plate and water
left untouched before looking back at Chuuya with…
A dark eye? Where is the red?

"It's not poisoned."
Chuuya's brows furrow slightly in confusion, but he doesn't look away from the other's face
or answers. What is he even supposed to say to that? To him ? And that only makes the
kitsune's grin widen .
"How do you plan to run away with a body weak and starved ? Your wounds haven't healed
completely yet."
The question is a surprise, but it's mocking tone makes Chuuya's lips press into a thin line.
Run away.
As if the fox would let him.
And he can see the satisfaction growing on the brunette's face at his reaction.
"Oh, is the little human too scared to talk?"
Anger starts to boil in Chuuya's gut. He knows what he's feeling - fear - and he knows it's
reasonable , but having it thrown in his face makes his instinct to fight awake again.
"Why..." His voice is hoarse and quiet, but enough to be heard.
"You'll need to be more specific." The fox mocks him. " Why what exactly?"
"Why am I here?" Chuuya tries to make it sound like something more than a desperate cry,
but he isn't sure if he can even fool himself .
"Isn't that obvious, though? To heal."
No, nothing about it is obvious no matter how he looks at it.
"You..." He clears his throat, longing for that cup of water that's so far away now. "You killed
them, didn't you?"
A red sparkle shines in the dark eye before it disappears again. "That I did."
"...but not me."
"No, not you."
" Why? "
The kitsune huffs at him. "I didn't kill you, because you would die there anyway."
Exactly , and yet Chuuya is alive . His wounds bandaged and with food and a place to rest
offered out of nowhere .
"What do..." the redhead takes a deep breath, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking -
from fear and frustration. "What do you want?"
"Right now? I want you to eat–"
"Why am I here ?" Chuuya snarls at the fox, slowly losing his patience without getting any
answers, but he soon regrets the brief show of courage. The kitsune doesn't look angry, his
grin doesn't fade, but it is sharper now. And the red glow is back .
"Is that how you thank me for saving your life , human?” His voice isn't threatening, but it's
intimidating, making Chuuya's chest tighten with a mixture of fear and…
Guilt.
Illogical as it may be, it is true. The fox did save his life, and Chuuya hasn't even tried to
thank him, hasn't felt thankful because his mind was set on the sole thought of escaping . He
averts his eyes, looking down where one of the tails lazily sways above the floor.
"..." There's no point in making the situation even worse, even if questions are eating him
alive. "I'm sorry."
"That's not the same, is it?"
If he wasn't hurt and at an unfair disadvantage, Chuuya would let the brunette know very
clearly what he thinks about his games, but he can't .
"Thank you... " He murmurs, tension slowly leaving his body as he continues. "...for saving
my life."
He's not relaxed, that would be insane, however , saying it out loud is like finally admitting to
himself that–
Yes. He is alive.
He didn't die alone or was hunted down, he won't be just another corpse found among the
countless others. He can still go back to his home, he can still make this life into something
special.
He can still see his friends .
(Oh, but at what cost will that come...)
Chuuya isn't looking at the kitsune, so he can't see how satisfied he is with his words. How he
waited just for this, and how dangerous his gaze is, but he hears the trap in his voice all too
clearly.
"And how much is your life worth to you, little human?"
Now that his mind finally allowed Chuuya to believe in what has happened, he feels himself
getting a bit irritated . He's not a little human, he has a name - but should he be telling that to
the kitsune? - and what kind of a question even is this? What is his life worth?
To Chuuya? Everything . To the other, though? How is he supposed to know?

And why does it matter?
He looks up with furrowed brows and even if a shiver runs down his spine when he meets the
other's gaze, he still asks, slightly annoyed. "What?"
"How much is your life worth?" The fox repeats, tilting his head slightly. "One 'thank you'?
Or maybe two?"
What is he getting at...?
"Bad luck, you saved someone with nothing valuable." Chuuya huffs at him. "Not even back
home."
But it only makes the fox chuckle, tails swaying more playfully behind him. "I'm not
interested in your possessions."
"Then wha–"
"But I've been meaning to find a new servant for a while now."
Chuuya's eyes widen, brows shooting up and frustration inside getting stronger.
"Or a pet ."
...
HUH?
He's been called many things by many people, but this , even if only an insinuation, is far
beyond what Chuuya deems acceptable. Especially when he can see just how much the fox
enjoys watching him lose his temper.
"What the fuck did you just call me?"
All rationality, all of his needs to run or hide leave the redhead momentarily, replaced by a
very strong desire to scratch that grin off of the brunette's face.
Does he stand a chance against a kitsune? Probably no.
Is it wise to argue with a demon? Again, not really.
Is Chuuya going to do it anyway and possibly regret the consequences? Very much so.
"I am not a fucking pet! And definitely not yours!" The redhead hisses, his gaze pointed and
seething with anger. His fists itch to be put to use, if only these fangs that he can see weren't
that sharp …
But the fox seems to be simply amused by his sight.
"Oh, really?" He muses. "I found you wounded, on the ground in my forest, took you home,
had your injuries tended to, and ever since you've only been squirming on the floor..."
Because he couldn't stand up.
"..How is it any different from rescuing a stray dog?"
The comparison and the way the other puts all the pain he suffered into such simple words
have Chuuya snarling at him, his body moving on its own to lunge at the kitsune when–
Well, he isn't healed yet .
He barely moves his back away from the wall before a sudden wave of pain shoots from his
stomach - not that bad, but not pleasant either - and Chuuya ends up on his knees with one
hand pressing onto bandages covering the wound, his face twisted in discomfort and
annoyance. He curses to himself, glaring at the fox from behind the red strands falling over
his eyes.
"A not-very-well-behaved dog." The brunette muses again and, gods, is Chuuya going to
punch him hard for it.
Some day.
"I said I'm not your fucking dog!"
"Hm..." The other pretends to consider it, but Chuuya knows he's only mocking him. "But
you are in my debt."
Chuuya doesn't answer, but he grits his teeth in a way that tells more than any words could.
As much as he hates to admit it... Yes, he is .
"Taming a pet would be very interesting in your case, however..." The fox’s eye falls dark
again, the red fading away. "If you hate it that much, I'll gladly find other uses for a human."
Maybe death would have been more peaceful than dealing with this asshole. "Mind sharing
them, shithead?"
"I already said I was looking for a servant, did I not?"
"I'm not a slave eit--"
"I said a servant ." The fox cuts him off sharply, freezing Chuuya's body still. "With a room,
food and whatever you may need provided."
Blue eyes narrow with suspicion, briefly looking at the still untouched water and onigiri next
to the futon. "...did your actual servants run away or something?" Because Chuuya would not
be surprised.
"Oh, not at all." The other sends him a satisfied smirk. "They're the ones who will be showing
you what to do."
"I haven't agreed to anything." Not verbally anyway, because Chuuya knows he doesn't really
have a choice and that he will need to repay his debt. He just doesn't want to give in so easily.
Not to that fucker.
"You're a stubborn human, but you can't fool me." Slowly, almost lazily , the kitsune stands
up. "One of my servants is waiting outside. He'll explain the rest."
Chuuya glares at the cup of water as if it was all its fault, waiting for the other to leave the
room, but the fox doesn't walk away. He comes closer and the redhead only catches a glimpse
of the blue and black kimono before one of the other's tails moves to his chin.
Maybe it's surprise, maybe fear, but Chuuya finds himself unable to move away as he lets his
head be tilted back until he's looking up at the kitsune looming above him.
"Dazai Osamu. Do remember this name well, little human, for you are in my domain."
And with these words still ringing in Chuuya's head, Dazai's tail retracts as the kitsune leaves
the room.
How It Begins
Chuuya looks after the kitsune with wide eyes, half stunned because the fox actually told him
his name and half fuming because…
What the fuck was all of that?
He barely answered any of the questions and then proclaimed Chuuya as his servant ? As a
payment for something the redhead didn't even ask him to do? Yes, he's grateful to be alive.
Yes, he's grateful to be given shelter and a place to heal. But the audacity —
"Excuse me."
A new, unfamiliar voice brings Chuuya back from the swirl of thoughts deep in his head. He
blinks, searching for where it's coming from, but the doorway is still empty, only the wall at
the other side of the corridor staring at the redhead.
"May I come in?" It's not a warm nor cold voice, it's mostly void of any emotion, but at least
it's polite enough to ask , contrary to one arrogant fox who just walked in.
Ah, that other servant.
Chuuya doesn't know who or what to expect. Will it be another kitsune? A human? An
animal that can talk? Something else? Will it be just as unbearable as Dazai?
A sigh, what difference does it make at this point anyway?
The redhead, slower this time, moves back to the futon, sitting cross-legged on it and
adjusting his clothes a bit better before speaking.
"Sure..."
A figure steps into his view, a figure that looks like a man – no tails this time – dressed in a
black kimono similar to Dazai's, but with a different, red pattern that looks like flames. He
doesn't look older than Chuuya, but there's something in his presence telling the redhead that
the new person is not human.
He has black hair, faintly turning into white at the ends falling down at the sides of his pale
face and a pair of dark eyes. In his hands, the boy holds a wooden tray with several cups and
plates filled with food Chuuya can't see but can smell and…
It's strange, but not bad.

He looks at Chuuya for a moment, then to the side where the previous meal is still untouched,
and sighs.
"You should at least drink that " He makes a gesture at the cup of water with his head before
stepping closer. "before you eat anything else." He places the tray next to the futon, right by
the plate with onigiri, Chuuya's eyes don't leave him for even a second.
He doesn't seem dangerous, and not nearly as infuriating as the fox, but he's still a stranger .
The redhead doesn't answer, only watching as the other boy sits down as well but on the floor
a few steps away from Chuuya.
"There's medicine in it." The boy says, and that reminds Chuuya of the last time he was given
'medicine', making his face twist at the memory of burning inside and being ripped apart.
Sensing his discomfort, the other continues with another sigh: " Normal medicine, for
humans. Not the kind you were given by Dazai-sama"
"And I should trust you why?" Trust any of them, really.
"I tended to your wounds every day for a week." The boy says, emotionless if not for the
slightest hint of irritation. "Why would I hurt you now, after all of that?"
And, well.
That's fair , Chuuya will give him that, there was no way that fox would actually look after a
human himself. But…
"A week ?"
If not for that one time when Dazai gave him the medicine and all the pain before and after ,
Chuuya doesn't remember anything. Not eating, not drinking, nothing .
"What you drank kept you alive." The boy shrugs, barely visibly. "But you being awake
means there is no more of it left in your system. So now it's up to you how you treat your
body."
Meaning: drink and eat what we give you, or starve. Fantastic.
But, again, what else is he supposed to do? It doesn't smell bad, and Chuuya's throat has been
demanding that water for a while now.
"Do you have a name or something?" He mumbles before drinking from the cup and—
Gods, finally .
It does taste a bit weird, probably from whatever they added to it, but he doesn't care. It's
cold, and liquid and feels like a blessing flowing down his dry throat.
"Akutagawa Ryuunosuke." The boy answers, patiently watching as Chuuya refills the cup
and drinks again. "My sister, Gin, is in Dazai-sama care as well, so feel free to call us by our
names, otherwise it may get confusing."
How is Chuuya supposed to feel about being on a first name basis with a stranger and a
demon – that he doesn't know. But with the relief of having the dryness smoothed, his body
suddenly reminds him of how hungry he is and…
He almost died, he doesn't care about names all that much anymore.
"Chuuya." He quickly says, just because he doesn't want to be constantly called 'human' by
everyone, grabbing one of the onigiri. He doesn't even care if the other already knew that
much or not, he doesn't want to know. The whole situation is already frustrating enough. He
also eyes the tray and can see miso soup, more rice and something resembling fish and
vegetables mixed together in a dark sauce. The weird smell is making him a bit anxious,
though.
"We don't usually host humans here, but it should be... edible."
Ah, very reassuring.
It's good that Chuuya is too hungry to care. If it's not poisoned, he can eat basically anything.
But one part of what Akutagawa said makes the redhead stop and glare at the boy.
" Host ?" He hisses, though not with as much spite as he did at Dazai. "As far as I know I'm
not exactly a guest here, am I? "
"...no." Comes the answer. "But you're not a prisoner ."
But he also can't leave , can he?
" And " Akutagawa continues. "Until you're fully healed, you're a patient."
Oh, how nice of them to try and be decent .
"Right, and then what?"
"Then you'll..." Is it Chuuya or is Akutagawa acting even more strange all of a sudden? "...be
doing work."
"What kind of work?"
"...cleaning?"
Oh, don't tell him that... "You don't actually know , do you?"
Silence.
This whole situation is getting better and better, and Chuuya is slowly losing his mind.
"Dazai-sama made that decision very unexpectedly and..."
" He said that you would explain everything!"
"I can guess what he means." Akutagawa coughs awkwardly. "Most of the time."
A part of Chuuya feels bad for letting his anger out on the boy when it was Dazai who ignited
it, especially since, apparently, Akutagawa was the one looking after him. And another part is
almost relieved that the fox is insufferable to everyone , not just him. Maybe he should even
pity Akutagawa, who knows how long he's been dealing with all of this.
But it's just so frustrating.
He was saved, but now he needs to pay 'his life' back. He's not kept here by force, but they
won't let him leave. He's supposed to be working , but no one knows anything about it
because that fucking fox decided it on a whim.
"I—ugh—" Chuuya runs a hand through his hair, eyes closed as he's trying to calm himself.
"You know what? Fine, I don't care. Just tell me anything . Where are we? Are you a demon
too?"
He moves on the futon to sit facing the other boy, placing the tray in front of him and slowly
starting to eat. Occasional pain reminds him of the wounds whenever he moves to fast, but it
never lasts long.
"This is still the forest that borders your village, but we're on the other side of the mountain,
in Dazai's-sama residence. And yes, I am."
"Another fox?"
"No." Akutagawa quickly answers. His face and voice finally starting to show some kind of
emotion. Is he... nervous? Chuuya can't really tell. "I'm not a kitsune."
"Then what?" The redhead asks as he brings a bowl with miso soup to his mouth—
"...ōkami."
—and nearly chokes on it.
"You're a wolf ?" Suddenly, Chuuya realises how many dog jokes the other boy must have
suffered from Dazai and he really starts pitying him.
"Is it more surprising than Dazai-sama being a kitsune?"
"No, it's just..." He briefly looks to the empty door, remembering how he felt when the fox
called him a dog. "I'm sorry."
And Akutagawa shrugs .
Oh.
Chuuya was right, wasn't he? How can he be angry at him now?
The boy coughs and straightens his back again. "Regardless. Me and my sister are the same."
So both siblings suffered that bastard's jokes, huh?

"But you don't..." Chuuya isn't sure if he should be asking that, he's not sure whether it's
polite or acceptable. "You don't have..."
But Akutagawa understands and his words speak volumes . "It's more peaceful when I keep
my ears and tail hidden."
Of course it is.
And something tells Chuuya that his stay here will be anything but peaceful. Maybe at least
he can make it short and, preferably, avoid the annoying fox as much as possible.
Surprisingly, in the beginning...it's not that bad.
Chuuya stays in the room most of the time, letting his wounds heal and admiring how
demons with unthinkable powers can make food taste so...bland. He never complains, he's
happy to get any food from them, but the lack of skill is, in a way, amazing.
He meets the other ōkami, Gin – she and her brother switch with bringing Chuuya his meals
and helping him change bandages. Her eyes and hair are just as dark as Ryuunosuke's, and
both of their kimonos have the same red pattern, but Gin isn't as expressionless as her brother.
She doesn't speak much – Chuuya hasn't heard her say more than five words in total, and he's
been awake for almost a week now - but most of the time, her face and eyes show exactly
what she wants to convey, while her brother…
He doesn't seem to mind talking, but his face always looks tense and the same.
But neither of them seems dangerous , even if Chuuya knows they are .
He only knows their human form and how attentive they are to their role of taking care of
him, despite the many times he told them he doesn't need that much help with everything. His
injuries heal fast, the bandages on his neck disappear after a day, those on his arm not long
after that. His legs take another four days to stop stinging whenever Chuuya bents them too
far, but they're fine now.
His back still hurts sometimes , but Ryuunosuke said the wound has closed already, now it's
only a matter of waiting for the remaining bruise to heal. The only part that's actually making
moving around more difficult than it should be is his stomach,where the arrow went through.
Granted, it doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would – thanks to that medicine he was
given, or so he was told – but he still needs to be careful with bending or twisting his body.
He's even only been using wet towels to clean his body to avoid reopening the wound while
taking an actual bath.
However, it's taking forever and he's slowly losing his patience .
Chuuya isn't all that eager to start his...new work, but he also knows that the longer it drags
out, the longer he can't leave . He already asked Gin about it, but when the girl saw him
wincing in discomfort because he moved too fast… Well, the way she rolled her eyes was
clear enough.
It's not until another week passes that the siblings believe him when Chuuya says he's fine
enough to stop spending all his time lying down. That's when the question about his
responsibilities comes again, making Gin strategically walk away while Ryuunosuke
just...thinks.
Again.
Apparently, the siblings are the only ones working for Dazai, and all the fox ever asked them
to do (before they were forced to learn how to take care of an injured human) was to guard
his territory from other spirits and demons, maybe deliver a message here or there.
Dazai's residence is huge , but mostly unused, with just as big of a garden that is simply left
there to grow however it wants. All this time, for centuries probably, the kitsune was fine
with it, he didn't bother, and now—
"Really?" Ryuunosuke covers his mouth on a cough, looking anywhere but at the redhead.
"You want me to clean every room? Every empty , full of decades of dust room in this display
of a house?"
"...correct."
"Is anyone even going to use them?"
"...I doubt it."
So it's not like Dazai needs someone new to torment with his presence. Chuuya is here to
waste his time . "And this is what that fox meant by me being his..." The redhead spits the
word. "...servant?"
Ryuunosuke used to stiffen every time Chuuya refused to address the kitsune by his ‘mighty
title’, but he doesn't comment on it anymore.
"I believe this is the closest to what Dazai-sama had in mind, yes."
Which means no one was actually told anything, even after all this time. Perfect.
"Right." Chuuya sighs, looking at the first of many doors. "And by when do you want me to
finish this exactly?"
"Take however long you need." Comes the answer, the boy's voice turning more apologetic.
"I don't think Dazai-sama had efficiency in mind when he took you in."
In other words, even if Chuuya cleans the whole residence today, the fox will find a way to
make him stay.
"You don't actually need this cleaned, do y—"

"I'll leave you to it then." Ryuunosuke says before walking away just as fast as his sister did
before.
"Great." Chuuya mumbles to himself as he reaches out to slide the door open and… "What
the—" He finds himself coughing and covering his face instantly. Clearly, decades of dust is
a big understatement. He's definitely not finishing every room today.
The redhead was right, the room is empty, at least making his task this much easier, but the
thick layer of dust accumulated over gods know how long looks daunting. By the time he’s
done with it – with only one room – it's past noon already and Chuuya, frustratingly so, finds
himself tired. The injuries and recovery really did take their toll, making his body weaker
than it usually would be.
The room has another set of doors leading outside, and no one said the redhead can't take a
break, so he slides them open and steps out to rest in the Sun, in silence, but apparently two
weeks of peace was all his luck could afford.
"Slacking off on your first day?"
Chuuya freezes at the words, or rather at the voice he recognises , even after all this time. It's
still just as playful and infuriating as it was before. The redhead turns his head to the side
and, of course, the kitsune is right there, closer than he thought, barely a few steps away from
Chuuya. The same kimono, the same self-satisfied face and one eye staring down at him from
—
Just how tall is that shithead?
It's the first time they are facing each other when Chuuya is not sitting or lying down, and he
can see Dazai smirking at the redhead's annoyed frown when he needs to look up to meet his
gaze. It's not that his instinctive fear of the kitsune is gone , because it isn't, it's simply not
strong enough to stop the irritation boiling inside of Chuuya from spilling out.
"Being an asshole on your every day?" He hisses, hands fisted at his side.
Dazai hums in response, not sorry or even offended, only amused . "Attacking me in my own
house, little human?"
Oh, how much Chuuya would love to do just that. If only it didn't mean getting killed in the
process. But more importantly…
"Can you stop calling me that?!"
"Oh? Would you prefer..." Dazai's eye looks him over in a mock manner. "... 'Chibi'?"
On second thought, maybe it's worth giving it a try. Can kitsunes cough themselves to death
on dust?
"I would prefer you staying the fuck out of my sight." He says instead. "And I have a name !"
"Chibi works better if you ask me."

"Well, I'm not asking you."
Maybe finding a way to clean this house as fast as possible will be necessary after all. But
Dazai doesn't bother with acknowledging Chuuya's words, he only stares at his angry
expression with a smirk plastered on his face and sparkles of mischief dancing in his dark
eye.
"So" The fox takes a step closer and, despite how confident Chuuya's words may be, the
redhead takes a step back at the same time. He'll tell himself it's because he doesn't want to
get close to the kitsune, not because his mind can't stop thinking of him as a threat . Dazai
doesn't hide the satisfaction growing on his face at that. "cleaning? Is that what my good
servant Chibi is supposed to be doing?"
His soul screams to punch the brunette, but his body takes another step away, just to keep the
distance between them as it was before.
"If you don't like it, it's your problem. You should have told Ryuu anything instead of
deciding it all on your own and fucking off.”
Dazai stops in his tracks, a quick shadow falling on his face before disappearing again. Was
it… surprise? Or is Chuuya seeing things again?
" Ryuu ?" He tilts his head, tails swaying curiously behind him. "Getting familiar with a
demon now?"
The question makes Chuuya stop and think for a moment, confusion mixed with a sudden
realisation that…
Well, he kind of is.
The siblings have been taking care of him every day, the boy indulging in sometimes long
conversations and his full name was just too long to bother every time. Plus, he's heard Gin
call him that – one of the few words she said so far – and Ryuu didn't seem to mind when
Chuuya started calling him that as well.
Besides, the boy is, in his expressionless and awkward way, nice . Or polite at the very least.
Not like a certain fox.
Also, isn't it hypocritical now? With the way Dazai, a kitsune, is getting familiar with
Chuuya, a human ? Even if it's not exactly the same way as with Akutagawa siblings.
" I have enough manners to call others by their names." Chuuya says, a safe answer.
"Not me, though."
"You get what you deserve, shitty fox."
Dazai seems to consider it, but he doesn't let go. "And how is he better than me exactly?" His
voice is stable, not showing any obvious signs of danger hidden behind it, but the redhead is
all too well aware of who he's dealing with.
Foxes are masters of trickery, you will never know their intentions before it's already too late.
"He isn't annoying the shit out of me." Too bad Chuuya's words escape him faster than his
sense of reason can stop them. "And he calls me by my name, not like a certain—"
It only takes a split second when Dazai narrows his eye to make Chuuya stop.
Did he fuck up? Did he go too far? Maybe.
Does he regret it? No.
"I think you're forgetting your place, human."
For a moment, Chuuya really thinks that that's it, that he's about to need extra healing again
soon, but Dazai doesn't do anything. He only stares at him, not exactly threatening but with
enough strength behind it to keep the redhead silent.
Time seems to be going agonisingly slow, each heartbeat feeling as if it's his last, but… Dazai
still doesn't do anything and, eventually, his face goes back to his usual, nonchalant self.
"It's not like I care what a Chibi calls me anyway." Chuuya unconsciously moves out of the
way as Dazai walks past him without a care. "Just do your job."
He's already a few steps away and the redhead starts to relax thinking it's over when—
"Oh, and one more thing." Dazai doesn't look back at him, doesn't even stop , but his voice
rings through the air as if he was right next to Chuuya. Not teasing, not angry, nowhere near
caring but…
"Be careful with your wound."
Maybe, some day, Chuuya will remember it and see the faint gentleness hiding in it, one that
even Dazai doesn't recognise yet.
But it's not today, or tomorrow.
For now, Chuuya can only stare at the kitsune's back as he walks away, feeling his anger calm
down…
…a little more than he'd like to admit.

Unnamed Feelings
Chapter Notes
Watching the redhead struggle to keep his calm, to try and fight his way out of it while still
barely being able to sit straight was... amusing. A sight someone like Dazai rarely sees in
those who face him, a sight so sweet to tease and expectations so tempting to crush . But he
didn't save the human to make his physical suffering longer than necessary, so after their
short talk when the redhead woke up, Dazai stayed away.
Although, more than being thoughtful, it was due to his lack of interest .
A human that is wounded mostly sleeps, a human that is wounded doesn't talk or argue or do
anything that could chase the kitsune's boredom away, so Dazai didn't bother, he knew the
Akutagawa siblings would do their job just right and he had no intentions of simply watching
the human stay in bed all days.
Which is why now the brunette sits on one of the trees near his residence, watching from afar
how the Chibi struggles with cleaning the second room today and thinking about the
conversation they just had.
'Ryuu'?
How did that happen? When did that happen?
It's normal for Dazai and Gin to call the boy that, but the redhead? He's supposed to be scared
of demons and, even if he's more stubborn than most, why would he get so familiar with one?
The first time Dazai approached him, the human was too terrified to say anything , on top of
being injured, and all their later interactions were fueled by how the fox was provoking him,
playing at the strings of the boy's pride. And still, nothing but insults would leave his mouth.
Insults at someone much more powerful and dangerous than any human can even begin to
fathom, in his own house.
Did Ryuu threaten him into calling him by his name? Or maybe it was Gin…
His eye narrows when the black-haired boy steps into the room where the human is working
and offers him tea, tails swaying curiously at the sight of both of them smiling.
No, that can't be true.
Both ōkami demons are dangerous, they wouldn't be Dazai's servants if they weren't, and
they're more than capable of bending one human mind to their will but… the Chibi doesn't
look scared, he doesn't even look annoyed, let alone controlled by a spell. From this angle
Dazai can't be sure, but was it a laugh he saw before the redhead turned away? Did he
actually befriend the Akutagawa siblings?
During his recovery days? Shouldn’t he have been sleeping all the time?
But if that’s true, if the Chibi is doing all of that out of his own free will, then it makes
everything even more confusing. The redhead can smile and have normal conversations with
the two, but he refuses to address the master of the residence by at least his name?
Unacceptable and rude.
Dazai's ears twitch with something close to irritation, though his mind doesn't let him
acknowledge such a strong feeling being born out of one human's actions. He continues to
watch, to try and make sense of it, but it's just too…bizarre.
Ah, yes, that human is quite bizarre, is he not?
The fox leans back on the tree, his tails now leisurely swaying underneath him, his one eye
observing the leaves surrounding his spot. So vibrant and full of life, yet so fragile and
fleeting with time. Very much like the Chibi. A human with the brightest hair and eyes, with
so much willpower to even try to fight a kitsune. A human who held onto his life so
desperately even though…
Oh, now that Dazai thinks about it – is the Chibi healed already?
He must be at least feeling fine if Ryuu and Gin allowed him to work, though it's been too
long since the last time Dazai interacted with humans to remember how long their recovery
process is. He only knows it's slow, much slower than a demon’s, and that the redhead doesn't
seem to be in pain as he works – tired, yes, but nothing more. There was a slight, barely
noticeable frown passing through his face when he moved before, which is why Dazai told
him to…
His red eye falls on the human again, ears perked up and tails stilling in their lazy
movements.
Why did he tell him to be careful? Why would he say that to a Chibi that shows him nothing
but disrespect?
Dazai stares at the redhead, but the only answer he arrives at is: there was no reason.
He saw him frown and he remembered about his wounds.
He saw him working and he didn't want him to be bedridden again.
(He could talk to him, so he didn't want him to fall silent again.)
Ah, Dazai is just a good master looking after his servants, it’s his duty. Nothing more and
nothing less. And he won't waste his time thinking about it any more than that. After all, the
Chibi is finally well enough to tease and he still needs to remind him whose rules he needs to
follow.
Only, it’s not as easy as Dazai thought it would be.
Despite the centuries of spreading terror among humans and spirits alike, there's something
about the redhead that makes Dazai forget about his plan each time they’re close.
One time, the human seems too tired for the kitsune to try and torment him – there is no fun
in playing with someone who doesn't have the strength to fight back. Another time, just as
Dazai is about to demand respect after another insult the Chibi throws at him, the redhead
suddenly sways backwards with a dazed look, barely keeping himself from falling down by
grabbing the doorframe. He's a stubborn little thing and the incident only resulted in Dazai
ordering the siblings to make sure the Chibi doesn't have another heat stroke.
Every day the brunette tries, and every day there's something else distracting him:
The human's stomach demanding food, making the boy's cheek slightly pink in response as
the fox’s resolve starts to tremble. The Chibi almost slipping on the wet floor he's just
cleaned – a sight too amusing for Dazai to keep his dark gaze threatening for long enough.
Curiosity taking over when the brunette catches a glimpse of the redhead's body as his
clothes loosen, revealing the lack of bandages.
…so he's fully healed now? There’s no risk of hurting the human by mistake anymore?
Their conversations turn more frequent but, at the same time, less... tense?
In the beginning, the Chibi would always freeze at the sound of Dazai's voice, his movements
were minimal and his eyes always alert. But as days go by, his reactions become more
relaxed, casual even. He's still wary of the kitsune's tails, and he rarely ever steps closer on
his own, but the fear Dazai sensed in him before isn't there anymore. Sometimes, the redhead
doesn't even look up from his task when the fox appears and his remarks, still filled with
irritation, seem more like a habit rather than honest insults.
There used to be a feeling akin to hatred in them before, there used to be spite in every word
directed at him and a challenge hidden in the blue oceans staring at him. It's not completely
gone, but…
It's more gentle, somehow, more tamed.
And it's incredibly confusing for Dazai.
He knows which strings to pull to get on the Chibi's nerves, he knows what would make a
human boil in rage or tremble with fear and, yet, something is stopping him from pushing
that far. Seeing the redhead avert his eyes whenever Dazai allows a bit more of his presence
to be noticed but still trying to remain still is more interesting than forcing him to break down
in tears. Seeing the boy shoot glares at him while silently and obediently completing his task
is more amusing than having the human swear and curse at him.
And sometimes, only sometimes, hearing him huff in a way so close to laughter is enough to
satisfy the fox's need for winning.
Only one problem remains: he's still 'that fox' and 'that demon'.
The Chibi continues to refuse to call him anything else and with the way his fear is fading
away with every conversation, every stolen glance, it's getting harder to find a way to make
him do it. A way that won't shatter whatever little comfort started to build between them.
Not because Dazai cares about it, not at all, but because it would be more... troublesome, and
he simply wishes to spend his usual boredom away by teasing the human that's so full of life,
the only human who ever dared to try to stand up to him.
"Do you need something, shitty fox?"
The question chases his thoughts away, making Dazai blink before his gaze turns dark again.
He's been standing here and watching the redhead eat his lunch in silence for a while, not
even trying to conceal his presence but never saying anything either.
"Or do you just want to be a creep?" Despite his words, the blues eyes look more confused
than angry, making Dazai tilt his head to the side as he looks over the small figure sitting on
the floor, a bowl of soup in one hand.
"Why are you wearing that ?" The fox asks, his ears perked up.
It's been on his mind for a while now. He always sees the human wearing one of the two old,
grey kimonos, one being the same Dazai found him in, but stitched back where it's been
ripped, and the other very similar but with more ink stains.
"H-huh?" The redhead chokes on his food, coughing into the sleeve of his clothes. "What the
fuck are you on and about now?" He looks up at the kitsune as if the brunette said something
absurd. "I don't know, because I don't want to be walking around naked ?"
"But it's ripped." Dazai points out. "And dirty."
"It isn't, Gin sewed it for me." Ah, there it is again, another name that isn't his. "And these
stains are from ink, just because they won't come off doesn't mean it's dirty."
Dazai's brow furrows, but before he can say anything else, the redhead speaks again.
"Besides, I don't have anything else to wear." And with a roll of his eyes, the human goes
back to his meal.
The brunette continues to watch him for a few seconds, thinking his words over and over
again, thinking about why they make him feel weirdly frustrated but, in the end, he doesn't
understand.
He leaves the Chibi to his tasks, walking away without a word.

But he does summon Ryuu later that same day.
Frankly, working here isn’t as bad as Chuuya once thought it would be, save for this nuisance
of a fox distracting him every time the redhead wants to be left in peace. It’s nothing too
tiring, he gets free food and a room bigger than his old house with probably the softest futon
possible. Ryuu and Gin are both easy to get along with, in their own ways, and they make the
time flow faster, filling his days with the feeling of not being alone without annoying him,
much unlike a certain kitsune.
All in all, if it wasn’t the circumstances of his arrival here, it would likely be a nice way to
get away from his mundane life for a while.
However, there are still some things that Chuuya has problems with understanding: why
Dazai needs this many rooms while he’s not using them, will the Akutagawa siblings ever
learn how to season food and—
"What is that?"
Standing by the futon in what became his room by now and trying to tie his hair up in a high
ponytail to keep it away from his face, Chuuya looks at Ryuu with an arched brow. The boy
is holding several packages wrapped in paper, all tied together with a black thread.
"You can open it and see for yourself. I think you'll like it." the black-haired boy says as he
places the stack next to Chuuya's futon.
The redhead walks closer and kneels next to where the other sat down. "You think? "
"...I hope."
That doesn't really tell Chuuya much, but he can at least assume it's not anything dangerous if
he's supposed to like it.
"Mhm." He eyes Ryuu, trying to find a hint in his expression, but to no avail.
With a sigh, he moves to untie the thread and carefully unwrap the first layer of paper. He
doesn't know what to expect – something to help his work here? More towels for cleaning?
Maybe more medicine that he doesn't even need anymore? Towels would make sense, with
how many he uses for just one room every time, and he did complain about it at least once
already, but it's not that. When the last piece of paper is removed, Chuuya's sceptical eyes are
met with colours .
Crimson sky.
Bright blue Moon.

Dark silhouette of a tree.
"What..."
The fabric is folded, hiding away the true form of the pattern, but… it's beautiful .
"It's a new kimono." Ryuu says, the corners of his mouth curling into a gentle smile, one that
can barely be seen. "Well, five of them actually."
But Chuuya isn't looking at him to see that smile. Blue eyes don't leave the dark pattern, the
material that seems so soft and even more expensive – something Chuuya doesn't feel
allowed to even touch with his hands. He can barely believe he can gaze upon the work of art
this closely.
"For you."
Blinking in confusion, the redhead slowly looks up to meet the other's gaze. "Huh?"
"I said it's yours." The boy repeats, his smile now slightly more visible.
Chuuya has heard the words, but he can't make any sense of them. "What do you mean it's
mine?"
"What else would I mean?" Ryuu rolls his eyes at that and reaches out to slide the package
just a bit closer to the redhead. "Now you can wear something other than..." He briefly looks
at the old, grey material. "...this."
Chuuya should probably get offended by his tone, but his mind doesn't even catch it. All he's
thinking about are the colours so deep and the fabric much softer on his hands than anything
ever before.
"But... why?" He manages to breathe out. "It'll get dirty when I work and—"
"It was woven by spirits, it won't be stained so easily." And when Chuuya doesn't say
anything, he adds: "It's a present from Dazai-sama."
That makes blue eyes widen and his brows shooting high.
A present? From him?
When his mind puts everything together, his brows furrow, looking from Ryuu to the folded
kimono and back to the boy. "Why?"
The fox has been bothering him every day since Chuuya started his work, several times a day
if he gets a chance. When he's taking a break or while he's still cleaning – Dazai doesn't seem
to care. In the beginning, it was suspicious, almost as if he was there to catch him making a
mistake, but even when the redhead did do that... The kitsune never acted the way he
expected him to.
Sometimes, there was an edge to his voice and the air around the kitsune would seem dark
even during daytime, but he never did anything to hurt or punish Chuuya. And as their
conversations grew more frequent, it became easier to read the other's face and voice. The
very specific way two of his tails sway when Dazai is curious about something, the growing
intensity of his gaze when Chuuya says something too fast with too little thought put into his
words.
But the fox never feels threatening, not anymore. When the redhead almost fainted one day
from the heat, the surprise in Dazai's dark eye may have even been confused with worry for a
moment. Not that it's actually possible.
(Or is it?)
But they aren't friends, they hardly know each other.
More than that, they're far from being friends if you ask Chuuya.
The fox saved him, sure, but then he demanded a payment, forcing the boy to stay. That's not
what a caring person would do, even if the redhead was looked after while he was healing.
So why would he send him a gift? Is it a new way to mock him? To show Chuuya how much
power Dazai has? It could be that but…
The pattern is beautiful, but it's not intimidating in its richness, and with the way the colours
match his hair and eyes in such a simple but thought through way… it doesn't feel like
flaunting.
"I can try to guess," Ryuu speaks again, looking down at the material. "but I think it's better if
you ask Dazai-sama instead."
Ask him?
"Although..." The boy continues. "He may not know the answer either."
"...what does that mean?"
Chuuya doesn't receive any answer, only a sigh and a few coughs from Ryuu before the boy
leaves him alone again. He looks at the material in his hands before standing up and carefully
letting it unfold…
Oh, it's a full scenery.
Dark trees' silhouettes on the red sky, over a blue, swirling river with a bright red reflection
of the Moon. It takes him a moment to realise it, but it isn't a random pattern, it's a place
Chuuya always loved and a place that almost became his resting ground.
The river by his hut, the forest where he fled from the travellers.
It's what led him here. Old peacefulness mixed with the memories of pain.
He stares at it, trying to understand the fox's intentions, but his mind is just as speechless as
his mouth was when he first saw the new piece of clothing. Should he...?
Can he really...?
Is accepting a gift so beautiful and delicate right for someone like him? Is accepting a gift
from a kitsune wise? What if it's another trap?
...but it's so much softer than the old, rough material brushing his healing skin, and it's meant
for him. Not something handed down to him by his parents and caretakers, no, it has his
memories woven into it, in colours reflecting who Chuuya is.
Maybe…
The redhead brings the kimono closer, eyes trailing on the hems and elaborate finishes, and a
shy smile blooms on his face. He has never owned anything as breathing as this, has never
been given a chance to appreciate art works that weren't his own. He may not know the
reason behind it, but maybe he can accept the fox's gesture.
Maybe he can accept Dazai's gift.
Not something from the kitsune that loathes humans, not something from a demon with blood
on his hands, but a present from a tall brunette that saved Chuuya's life.
And as his smile grows just a bit wider...
Yeah, maybe he can do that.
Chapter End Notes
We're getting some character development from both sides but these two can be really
dumb when it come to emotions so bear with me for a while~
Now that my holidays are over, I'll be back to posting 2-3 times a week again :3
More Surprises
Chapter Notes
While Chuuya had his doubts, Ryuu's words turned out to be true after all – the kimono
doesn't get dirty from the dust, no matter how many rooms the redhead cleans. His body used
to get tired much faster in the beginning, but after a few days he regained his old strength
and, by now, half of the residence has been cleaned, which is more progress than he could
wish for on his first day.
As Chuuya refills the bucket with clear water and searches for new towels, his mind wonders
—
How long has he been here? How much longer will he have to stay?
He knows Gin goes to his village every two days to renew a spell that keeps the villagers –
those that he was close enough with – from worrying about his absence. She says the spell
makes them believe he's just sick , but it weakens with each day and would be entirely broken
if any one of his friends saw him. In a way, Chuuya feels like he should be grateful to her for
it, he doesn't have to explain anything to anyone, no one will get hurt if they don't look for
him. It's just…
Why is it so easy to make them forget?
He knows they aren't forgetting him, at least not by their own choice, but it feels like they are.
Will they ask questions when he goes back? Will they ever know he almost died? Or are the
ties between him and them weaker than a single spell? Of course, humans don’t stand a
chance against demons’ magic, it’s not his friends’ fault for letting their mind be influenced –
Chuuya knows all of this, he doesn’t blame them for something they have no control over, he
simply wishes it wouldn’t sting him this much.
Sighing to himself, the redhead starts walking towards the next door. It's not like thinking
about it will give him the answers he wants. The rooms that are left are finally in the more
frequented part of the residence, not that far from his own room, and they don't seem as cold
as the other ones. Ryuu showed him which rooms he doesn't need to clean – the siblings'
bedrooms and Dazai's part of the residence – and Chuuya did listen and try to remember
them, but…
They all look the same.
The whole house is like a labyrinth meant to keep anyone from finding a way out. The
redhead is pretty sure he turned at the correct corner, there are no visible scratches on the
wood so it's clearly not used often, just like most of the rooms. Putting everything on the
floor at his feet, Chuuya stretches his back before reaching out to slide the doors open and—
Well, there's no one inside.
But it's not empty.
There are shelves full of scrolls and books on each wall, loose papers scattered on the floor
with almost as many ink stains as Chuuya's hut, which is some kind of an achievement,
really.
Did he make a mistake? Was he not supposed to see it?
Is it—
"Oh my, did Chibi get lost?"
His body jumps with surprise at the sounds of Dazai's voice, only because Chuuya's mind
was occupied and didn't expect to be caught. The brunette is standing at the end of the long
hallway, his expression nonchalant as always.
"No, I..." Or did he? Chuuya wasn't paying too much attention to where he was going before.
"So you meant to come to me?" The fox arches his brow, slowly making his way to where the
redhead is standing.
"What? No, I just wanted to do the usual..."
"But were you not told to keep to the unused parts of my house?"
An amused smile slowly stretches on Dazai's face as he watches the redhead stubbornly
furrow his brows. He comes closer than usual, stopping only when he reaches the doorframe,
one of his tails moves to slide the door all the way open, which in turn makes Chuuya take a
small step back.
"I'd say..." Dazai glances inside, and then back to the redhead, his tone dripping with tease.
"...it looks very used."
Chuuya isn't sure what to make of it – the fox doesn't seem angry that he's here, he isn't even
hiding whatever the room stores – the only thing he knows is that Dazai is trying to make him
look like a fool and that he will not allow that.
Even if, as it turns out, he did get lost.
"It's more cluttered than used." Chuuya huffs. "And there's still more dust than air in there."
Dazai bares his fangs in a grin, a flash of red shingin in his eye before it goes away, leaving
only the dark orb. "Is Chibi that eager to be a good servant?"
Bastard.
"I'm very eager to be gone from here." Or so he believes to be the case because it should be
the case.
"I don't see you walking away, though."
Yes, because he can't. Chuuya can't leave until he 'pays his debt back', and he can't go to the
next room because his things are now at Dazai's feet. Coming too close to the fox is still risky
in the redhead's mind, but coming closer and bending (bowing) or kneeling down before him?
Not happening. He'll wait, the fox will get bored eventually.
But Dazai's stare seems to be creeping its way into Chuuya's head, seeing right through his
every thought.
"Hmm, if you say so." The brunette pretends to be considering something, but Chuuya
recognises the way one of his tails starts to sway just a little bit faster than the rest. It means
the fox is plotting something very annoying again.
It means headache .
"But since you're already here, maybe I'll have you tidy it up after all."
The tail that was holding the door open retracts as Dazai's eye flashes red for a split second
again. Only, he isn't walking away.
Chuuya glimpses inside and, well, it looks like a lot of work, but at least he can breathe
without suffocating on dust and it was him who first mentioned cleaning the room. "...fine."
He crosses his arms on his chest, eyes narrowing. "But I don't need you to watch me do it."
"First, I need to show you what you shouldn't touch~"
Fair, but—
"Go on, then."
Chuuya points at the open door with his head.
"Oh, after you , Chibi."
—of fucking course.
Calculating his chances, the redhead stares at the fox for a moment before moving to step
inside…
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
No, he isn't .
He's avoiding it.

But as he looks back, he can see Dazai sliding the things Chuuya left on the floor with his
tail. And it's subtle, very subtle, almost impossible to notice that he slides them closer to
himself, rather than the redhead.
"...I always leave it outside." Which isn't a lie, he does leave the water outside in most cases,
just not the towels.
"Isn't that inconvenient, though?” He may say whatever he wants, but his eye and twitching
ears betray his not-very-well hidden intentions.
"...I don't want to get your scrolls wet."
"I trust you to be very careful."
"I don't like such risks."
"What about the towels then?"
"..."
It's a battle he's losing, but he can still try . "You could be nice for once and give them to me."
Not that Chuuya believes it'll happen.
Because of course it doesn't.
Dazai grins at him, his head cocking to the side and his tails suddenly so high above the floor.
"I don't like getting my tails wet.."
As if he didn't just move both the towels and the bucket with them.
"They're still dry."
The fox’s fangs peek from behind his lips. "I don't like such risks."
Oh, that bastard is really something, isn't he?
Chuuya glares at him but the kitsune only grins and grins and is so annoying—
" Chibi. " He muses, but it feels more like the final sentence on Chuuya's dignity. "Do your
work properly , now~"
He doesn't know when or how , but he will get his revenge on the stupid fox.
With one last glare and an annoyed hiss, Chuuya walks back to the door, all while the
brunette has the audacity to actually straighten up, as if he wasn't already looming over him
enough.
Make it a double revenge.
Chuuya doesn't need to look him in the eye to see the pure satisfaction and victory written all
over his face, he can feel it, even as he's bending down and grabbing the stupid towels as fast
as he can. The movement is filled with anger, of course it is, but it's also awkward because
Chuuya can't help but be very careful about it.
Careful to keep away from the tails.
Careful not to touch the other's clothes.
Careful not to look him in the eye—
"See?"
—but the moment he stands up, Dazai is leaning so close to him, his one eye piercing right
through the redhead who is too surprised at the proximity to move away.
"Wasn't that easy~?"
Bowing before the fox or holding himself back from punching the kitsune in his smug face?
Because the latter may have been the most difficult thing Chuuya has ever done. Almost as
hard as holding the dark gaze staring at him from this close and not stepping away
instinctively.
"Now, little human." Suddenly, one of Dazai's tails is at Chuuya's chest, gently pushing him
to the side to let the brunette in. "Pay attention, won't you?"
He knows he should, so why is the first thing that comes to his mind…is Dazai’s fur actually
very soft?
...is it warm ?...
The redhead shakes himself out of his thoughts, huffing at the kitsune but still listening to
what the other is saying.
There are scrolls filled with history – both yōkai and human – some with spells (these he
needs to stay away from). Most are in Japanese, but they're old and Chuuya isn't sure whether
he could read them even if he wanted to. Dazai doesn't seem bothered by him looking around
or asking questions. Occasionally, Chuuya catches himself thinking the fox looks like he's
enjoying it, which is obviously just his mind making shit up because it’s impossible.
Because why would he enjoy it?
But then, just as the kitsune is explaining the contents of the last shelf, blue eyes catch a
glimpse of a loose piece of paper lying in the corner of the room. It blooms with ink, but as
Chuuya focuses more on it, he notices these aren't words . Dazai isn't looking at him, so he
doesn't see how wide the redhead's eyes are and how his mouth falls slightly open when he
realises he's looking at a painting . And not just any painting.
Chuuya is looking at the scenery that he's wearing .
On the kimono Dazai gifted him.

And it doesn't look old – Chuuya would know, he's been working with ink for years now – it
looks fresh and…
So carefully painted.
Each stroke with a purpose, delicate where the river is flowing and sharp where the trees are
dancing in the nonexistent wind.
Could it be...?
"That's it." The words break through Chuuya's mind. "Chibi, are you listening?"
"Huh?" He quickly blinks the confusion away. "Yes, I got it."
"Hmm." Dazai looks him over, but doesn't comment on the fidgeting fingers. "Well then.
Good luck." He turns to leave, and Chuuya should just get on with his work, but...
It's not a coincidence, is it?
He doesn't know what it is exactly but, for whatever reason, there was thought put into this,
thought and time , and maybe something else. Something a part of him wants to ask about,
something he doesn't think can be named even if he were to push…
But it's something that can be appreciated.
"Dazai..."
The fox stops immediately, his ears perked up and tails completely still. Chuuya's free hand is
absentmindedly caressing the material of the sleeve of his kimono, and his eyes are averted to
the side so he doesn't see Dazai's reaction, but he isn't even thinking about it. All Chuuya
thinks about is the beauty of what he's wearing and how he isn't sure whether he deserves it,
how he never asked for new clothes and Dazai still... did all of that.
Or maybe he isn't looking because he doesn't want to risk his cheeks blooming with faint
pink under the dark gaze?
Not that he has a reason to react this way when the brunette isn't looking at him either. He's
still standing where he stopped, still facing the open door – and his eye is wide open.
(Did he hear it right? But why? All of his previous plans failed so why now?)
And maybe the fox doesn't understand what gratitude really is, maybe he doesn't understand
his own reaction but—
"Thank you." Chuuya mumbles, barely audible. "For the...gift."
—even if he'll never admit that to himself, the smile on his face is the most genuine and
gentle one he has ever showed to the world.
His gaze softens, but he doesn't look back. He'll leave because he doesn't know what else
there is to do. He'll leave because the redhead has work to get to.
But their days aren't over yet, so he will come back.
"You're welcome."
Normally, he wouldn’t let the human clean up his study, even if it doesn’t hold any secrets
worth keeping hidden. It may not be the most organised space there is, Dazai rarely uses it
anyway, but at least the fox knows where each scroll is placed, where each paper is lying.
Sure, there’s dust accumulating faster than he’d like to, but it has never bothered him before.
However, seeing Chuuya right there, so close and wearing what Dazai gifted him made him
want to enjoy the view a little longer, to tease him a bit to get the most amusing reaction
possible.
Because, oh, how easily the Chibi lets his emotions show.
It was supposed to be nothing more than a way to pass time, to see how much better the
human looks while wearing colours rather than the grey of his old clothes, and seeing his
bright, blue eyes seething with anger while picking up the towels from the ground was truly
satisfying—
But hearing Chuuya finally call him by his name?
Hearing how gentle, while still slightly annoyed, his voice was when he murmured a quiet
‘thank you’?
Dazai didn’t expect it, he didn’t do any of that to seek the redhead’s gratitude – he did it
because, for some reason, his old clothes bothered him. By choice or not, the Chibi is now
under his care, so he should look like it, especially if he’ll be staying for a while longer. Plus,
there’s something oddly satisfying in knowing that Chuuya likes the new kimono enough to
act so genuine, so honest.
It surprised Dazai at the time, played a chord in his heart that has never sung before, and now
he can’t help but think about it over and over again.
Why was it so sweet to hear?
Why is being around Chuuya this interesting? What is pulling him towards the redhead?
Day after day, the kitsune’s eye searches for the vibrant colours, his mind always looking
forward to teasing the Chibi and seeing his many different expressions, observing how the
distance between them shrinks after each conversation. Maybe it’s because Chuuya is likely
the first human ever to act this way around him, the first human to try and play the games
Dazai deals, instead of running away.
Or maybe it’s because being around Chuuya feels liberating.
The fox doesn’t have to act, doesn’t have to pretend he’s someone he isn’t because the
redhead has already seen his true colours – most of them – and stayed, even if he was scared
in the beginning. There’s no need for Dazai to act like a kind person that he isn’t and Chuuya
isn’t trying to please him with obedient lies or fake smiles. They may not know each other
well, they may not even like one another considering how they met, but…
Sometimes, Dazai feels like talking to the redhead is easier than breathing.
So, until the time comes for Chuuya to go back to his old life, the kitsune will let himself
enjoy these moments of freedom he feels around the human.
…maybe they both will enjoy it.
Chapter End Notes
They're finally warming up to each other T__T a bit of softness is coming our way
before the angst begins~
Also, rereading this chapter and editing it for ao3 reminded me of how teasing/annoying
to Chuuya Kitsunezai was in the beginning and honestyly I would punch the fox in the
face in his place, buuuuut he can't be perfect, can he?
The Confusion and The Answer
Chapter Notes
He's been here for a month now.
A month living with, well, actual demons – two weeks of recovering and two weeks of
working. Four weeks away from the place he calls his home, from where his friends are, and
it should feel wrong. Chuuya should feel the urge to go back, to claim his old life back and
return to where he knows is his place.
But, you see, Chuuya's mind is dangerous. It's adaptive and, even if his temper may indicate
otherwise, patient.
The feeling of missing talking to Yuan, or making fun of Shirase, or simply greeting the
flower stall grandma is definitely there, but it's not overwhelming. It was too much when he
had to move away after his father had passed away when Chuuya was ten, but even then he
got used to being away from home. It hurt when 5 years later, he left his caretaker to come
back here, but he grew up.
Being away from 'his place' isn't anything new to Chuuya, his mind is used to waiting
because it knows he will go back, eventually. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next
week, but he will and the time he spends away now will mean nothing. He isn't worrying
anyone anyway, it's fine.
But that's not exactly what the small voice in the back of Chuuya's head is telling him is the
problem. The true issue is: he's getting used to living here while he, as a human, shouldn't,
he's surrounded by demons, which it's anything but normal.
His mind knows it. His mind remembers the stories and the looming danger he felt when he
first woke up. The eye that glowed bright red, the tricks that made Chuuya stay without
giving him a choice.
...but, again, his mind is dangerous.
It sees a boy who tended to his wounds, not a threat. It sees a girl who always listens to his
rambling with a smile, not an enemy. It sees the insufferable fox who thinks he's all high and
mighty, the fox who is the most annoying creature Chuuya has ever met and—
A memory of a painting lying on the floor flashes before his eyes.
His mind knows he shouldn't be comfortable around the kitsune, but he is.
It's the little things: seeing the kitsune sleeping, or simply resting in the trees' crowns on a
quiet day, watching how one of Dazai's ears twitches whenever Chuuya says something he
finds interesting during their bickering. The fox, obviously, never helps him with work, but
he also never disturbs it, not really. Their conversations always take place when Chuuya is
taking a break, or having a meal, never when he needs to focus.
And they get longer, more natural, more personal.
Dazai talks about this mountain he claims is 'his' – about the forest and its wildlife, about the
obscure but beautiful and peaceful places he discovered over the years. He talks about how
he prefers to spend his days sleeping or reading, how he likes to watch stars scattered around
the sky and feel the chill, night breeze. It's never anything too important, but it's these bits
and pieces that he doesn't have to share and, yet, chooses to.
Chuuya can't help but listen and remember everything. Dazai's stories of different kinds of
yōkai that inhabit the mountain, his every expression, every sway of his tails that seems to
mean something. Of course, the fox's teasing and his overall being an asshole isn't gone, that
would be too perfect, but it's more bearable now. Especially since Chuuya learnt he can bite
back, he can fight and not fear for his life. It's more fair now, it comes to him naturally and…
Maybe it's a little bit fun, too.
Because as much as the kitsune gets on his nerves, seeing the different expressions – of
surprise, or confusion, or many more – on Dazai's face whenever Chuuya teases him back is
like a small victory every time. Like he's finally allowed himself to learn and enjoy this game
they set up, and maybe, only maybe, he wouldn't mind playing it a bit longer.
Which is why when the redhead has finally finished cleaning all the rooms, he doesn't mind
helping with the garden as well. He's been here for a month, a couple more days won't hurt.
A couple more late night talks with Ryuu, a couple more tea breaks with Gin, a couple more
—
"I hear Chibi offered to do more work, all by himself." Chuuya only managed to tidy up a
small area by the engawa by the time a familiar voice reaches him from above. "What a good
servant~"
A sigh.
That bastard really likes this one word too much.
Straightening up, Chuuya places his hands on his hips and looks up at the fox lazing around
on the roof of the house. "Stop calling me that, shitty fox."
Dazai is resting his chin on one arm at the end of the roof, the other one dangling down
without a care as he looks at the redhead, his ears flickering every now and then.
"But it's true."
"Is not. "
"But you're still here."

Which doesn't mean anything other than the fact he simply wanted to make the garden look at
least decent. You know, since he already cleaned the residence, he may as well finish his job
fully.
Simple as that.
"You would make me do this anyway." Chuuya rolls his eyes when Dazai arches his brow.
"Or tell Ryuu to ask me to do it." Or make the poor boy guess it. Again.
"What makes you think that?" The kitsune moves his head until his cheek is pressed against
his forearm.
"Your assholeness." Chuuya answers without thinking twice.
"I take that back, good servants would never be this rude." But the way the corners of his
mouth twitch betrays how little Dazai actually cares about his attitude. "And what if I
planned to let you leave?"
"Did you?" Now it's Chuuya who raises his brow in a question, only to be stared down at by
the single, dark eye.
The fox considers it, or at least pretends to, before smirking at the redhead with a satisfied
tone in his voice. "I guess we'll never know now, will we?"
"As I thought." Chuuya huffs at him.
"But you could have asked, and you didn't."
Well... That's true.
"That would be just a waste of time." The redhead answers as he sits down on the warm
wood "Beside, I don't mind taking care of plants and flowers."
"Oh?" Dazai slides down a bit, his head now dangling from the roof in the most comical way
to keep looking at the other. He seems to be in an especially good mood for some reason,
which Chuuya doesn't try to guess.
(A reason Dazai himself doesn't recognise. He just knows the Chibi stayed and that’s
enough.)
"You look stupid." Chuuya snorts, watching how the fox’s dark hair blow in the gentle breeze
and how his upside-down face is still as annoying as ever.
"And you look short."
...maybe he does mind these couple more days after all.
"Anyone would be if you're looking at them from the fucking roof ."
"Ah, but..." Without any trouble, the brunette jumps off, landing just a few feet away from
Chuuya, shooting him a satisfied look and his stupid grin. "...even like this, Chibi is still
short."
There's no more dust to suffocate the fox, the redhead cleaned it all, but maybe wild grass
will work?
"I'll put dirt in your tea, asshole."
"You never make me any tea, though?"
"I'll make an exception. "
However, his threat only draws a chuckle from the kitsune. "Oh, how scared I am."
Despite his words, Chuuua doesn't meddle with the other's drink when Gin brings them both
a cup each. How she manages to always know when to come remains a mystery the human
may one day find the answer to, but today isn’t that day.
"So" Dazai starts again, sipping his drink in the shadow and watching Chuuya tend to the
garden. "does Chibi simply like playing with the dirt? Is that it?"
"I'm not a child!" Though his normal work is a bit messy, but with ink, not soil. "I used to
stay and help at a place with big gardens. It's calming."
Dazai eyes him, doubt clear in his eye. "Looks more like a chore."
"Yeah, because you let this…" Chuuya gestures around him. "...happen. Have you ever had
anyone else tend to it at all?"
"No~"
Of course. Then why bother to have it in the first place?
"You're annoying, you know?"
"But Chibi still does his work." Dazai muses, although his ears flinch in the same way as
when curiosity takes over him.
"Not like I have a choice." The boy rolls his eyes again, but doesn't stop his task of getting rid
of wild weeds. "And I think it'll actually look good once the flowers bloom again, it’ll be nice
to see it."
Once it's all tidied up, of course, once Chuuya plants and arranges everything the way he
imagined from the first moments he saw the garden. He doesn't see the way Dazai's eye
widens for a moment, or how he puts his cup down, he can only hear his careful tone.
"But the flowers bloom in spring." The brunette says slowly.

"Yeah, no shit." For all the knowledge and experience the fox claims to have, he really likes
stating obvious things for no reason. Or so the redhead thought, because—
"...will you be staying here until spring?"
—the question makes Chuuya freeze, blue eyes widening as they stare at the grass in his
hands.
Oh.
Maybe it wasn't that obvious after all.
He didn't even think about it in that sense, it was only natural to think about the end result of
all this work, but maybe it was too natural, because thinking about it was easy, while focusing
on the meaning behind Dazai's words is not. And it's that message they convey that makes
something deep inside Chuuya stir.
It wasn't a statement. It was a genuine question.
Yes, he did know this situation was only temporary and that he would demand to go back one
day, but... Dazai actually said he'd be set free. The fox was surprised by his will to tend to the
garden because he expected Chuuya to be gone before spring comes around. He didn't plan
on forcing him to stay.
And it makes the redhead think again—
Was the kitsune really ready to let him go once he finished all the rooms? If he declined
Ryuu's suggestion about the garden,would.... would Chuuya not be here right now? Would he
be back in the village?
Back....home?
Painting the works for other villagers instead of teaching the Akutagawa siblings how to
make food taste good and laughing at their terrible attempts and focused faces? Spending his
time with Yuan and Shirase under the tree next to the tea house instead of talking to Ryuu and
Gin and… Dazai?
Of course, it will happen one day, it must happen – Chuuya doesn't live here, it's not the place
he calls home – but, even if the idea would cross his mind occasionally, he hasn't actually
thought about leaving. Not permanently.
...but once he does, will he be allowed back?
Will Chuuya want to come back? To the house that he once called a prison, to the fox that he
once despised and chores he was tricked into doing?
Ah, but these memories feel so faded in his mind.
Was it a trap or a warm room with a soft futon? Was it a trick or just an awkward boy not
knowing what to say? Was it a demon playing with his life or a tall brunette looking after
Chuuya in his bizarre way?
Is he actually being kept here by force? It's not like the redhead ever tried to go back or at
least asked to be allowed. Now the question isn't coming from him, it's not about what he's
expected to do, it's about what he wishes to do, the decision he himself has to make and—
"I..."
—Chuuya doesn't know.
He wants to go back, he wants to stay, he wants to lead the life he used to before all of this
and enjoy his time here.
Ah… he really is selfish, isn't he? Wanting it all, even though he'd be crossing between two
separate worlds – human and yōkai. And that's not possible, is it?
"..." Chuuya looks at his hands covered in dirt and sees the elaborate pattern of his kimono
behind them, of the gift that, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, means so much to him.
He doesn't know.
The fox must have sensed his struggles – or was he just impatient? why would he care? –
because he's the one to speak again, even without getting an answer.
"You don't have to." He says, his tone neutral. "I won't force you to stay that long." That's
good, but what if Chuuya wants him to? It would make the decision so much easier. "But if
you wish to see the garden bloom, you can always come back when it's time."
And what about other times?
Can he come back when he misses Gin's company? His talks with Ryuu? When he misses…
"Yeah." He says mindlessly. "I... I'll think about it."
Just like that, Chuuya goes back to his task without looking at Dazai. Working is easy, it
shuts his thoughts off when they become too much, when the answers become too difficult to
find.
Chuuya doesn't see the way Dazai looks at him, doesn't see the uncertainty hiding behind his
gaze and the wishes that were never spoken. Because it's not Dazai's place to cast his wishes
upon a human. Kitsunes trick humans into doing whatever they feel like, they play with
fragile lives for fun and kill time by watching those weaker than them struggle. Dazai can
trick Chuuya into staying, but he can't trick him into wanting it.
And isn't that what the fox wishes for? For the redhead to choose to stay?
Ah, but if Dazai himself doesn't know, then Chuuya wouldn't either, so maybe it doesn't
matter that he's not looking. Maybe it's better if he continues working while the brunette
watches him in silence.
Today is not the day Chuuya makes this decision. It will have to come eventually, but...
Not now.
Not yet.
(When that day finally falls upon them, Chuuys will choose, but it won't feel like his decision
then.)
It's...weird.
This whole day, these thoughts that creep up on Chuuya whenever he lets his mind relax, this
feeling inside of him as he watches Dazai read in the candlelight of his room. Their earlier
conversation left the redhead confused and torn, unsure of what is right or wrong anymore.
His solution, of course, was to work all day and evening, despite Ryuu's comments about
being reasonable.
This day isn't reasonable, why should Chuuya be?
It tired out his body and mind, just like he wished, but...maybe he's a bit too tired, because his
mind is clearly playing tricks on him. He ate, bathed, and now he should be getting into his
futon to welcome the bliss of sleep into his arms, but instead he's here.
His legs led him to Dazai's door.
It's the part of the residence Chuuya doesn't go to intentionally, only when he misses a turn or
two, but this time it's not like that. His own room is right by the baths, he can walk between
these in complete darkness if he needs to, and Dazai's room is at the other end of the house.
…why is he here? Why did he come here?
Chuuya still hasn't said anything – he's standing in the hallway's shadows and looking inside
through the open door – but the fox must know he's here. He always knows. The redhead
doesn't understand, or rather, he doesn't let himself understand, gripping the object in his
hand tighter. Dazai hasn't said anything either, Chuuya can still go back and they'll pretend it
never happened—
"Can I come in?"
—if only these words weren't fighting so hard to escape him.
Dazai looks up from his book and for a moment he seems to be...lost in thoughts, like he's not
seeing Chuuya at all. But it's gone the second the redhead thinks about it, the other's
expression turning more present and curious , one brow arched high.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" The fox places the book down on the tatami mat,
watching Chuuya step into the light of his room. "Is Chibi afraid of ghosts now?"
The comment makes the redhead roll his eyes and his mind falling back into the easy patterns
again. "No." He can't say it's because 'ghosts don't exist' because they probably do,
considering that yōkai are real, but after facing a kitsune not much can scare him anymore.
"I don't see any reason for Chibi to come here, then." Dazai tilts his head slightly, looking at
Chuuya with question in his eye and, well, he's not wrong. The boy doesn't actually have a
reason to be here, not a rational one. He just...felt like it.
But, of course, he can't say that.
"I don't have one, I just..." His gaze falls from the dark eye to the book on the ground, to the
tails resting behind and around Dazai. "...your fur is always tangled."
He noticed it before, during his first working days, and it's been on his mind a lot lately.
Dazai says he doesn't like getting his tails wet or dirty and, yet, he doesn't seem to be actually
taking care of them. His fur is soft, Chuuya learnt that from the quick brushes every now and
then, but it's always knotted.
The fox, however, looks genuinely surprised at the comment. His eye is wide, brow hiding
high behind dark locks falling down his face and his white ears perked up. "...come again?"
Chuuya probably should have thought it through – what if it's something rude to say to a fox?
– but the brunette doesn't seem mad, he's just...unsure of what's going on?
"Well, I..." The redhead clears his throat, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck. "I see
you picking at your tails a lot, but it's always tangled anyway."
Dazai is still staring at him, thinking over what Chuuya is saying and it's so intense the
redhead barely forces himself to stay still and not turn around to walk out as fast as possible.
Gods, what is he even doing here?
"...taking care of them takes time." The kitsune eventually says, slowly, as if he's calculating
every word. "And I don't like bothering with it."
To be honest, Chuuya somewhat expected this kind of an answer, but hearing it doesn't help
with soothing his nerves. If anything, it makes them worse. "Right, em, I..."
Why is he doing this? Why is his voice so weak and quiet? Why is his heart racing in his
chest?
"...I could do that for you." Why does his face feel so hot? "If you want me to."
Silence settles between them.
Chuuya can only hear the fast beating of his heart and the ringing in his ears because, fuck,
why is he thinking? While Dazai… Dazai is just staring and not saying anything.
Was it weird to offer? At this hour? In general?
It felt weird to ask and the redhead doesn't really understand what made him do this, it just...
happened. He was at Dazai's door without knowing it. He was stepping inside without
thinking. The words left his mind without—
"...okay."
— what?
Chuuya looks up at the brunette, wide blue eyes searching for something, but the fox isn't
looking at him anymore. He's picking the book up again, turning around so that his back is
facing the redhead, and he's quiet.
No questions. No demands.
No teasing.
Dazai just...sits there, waiting and letting Chuuya do whatever he feels like. He probably
wouldn't say anything even if the other left without a word, but Chuuya doesn't leave.
"Okay..." He murmurs it more to himself than to the kitsune, a way to force his legs to move
again. He kneels between the tails, much closer than he has ever been voluntarily, and…
They're really soft and warm under his palms.
Chuuya is almost shy about it, now that he's here he finds the gesture so... intimate. It feels
like crossing an invisible line in whatever the relationship between them is. A step forward,
but towards what exactly?
His fingers cradle through the fur of one of Dazai's tails, simply feeling it on his skin, before
he remembers that he brought a brush with him. Why he did that is a mistery, his mind is a
fucking mystery at this point, but—
Well, it’s convenient if nothing more.
None of them say anything as Chuuya gently untangles the fur, brushing the knots away. The
kitsune continues reading – or so the redhead assumes – only the careful movements of his
tails showing that he's aware of Chuuya's presence. The one he's working on is always still,
letting Chuuya work his way along its length, and the rest are... mindful of him.
He doesn't know how Dazai does it without looking, but none of the tails ever hit him in their
occasional sways, they move around him. Resting on the tatami mat on both sides of Chuuya,
moving close to his arms whenever the wind from the outside finds its way into the room, but
never quite reaching to touch him.
It's...nice, calming.
Not like their usual interactions full of bickering and arguments, no, these can be interesting,
entertaining even, but they're always too heated to let any of them appreciate...each other?
Is that what this is? Is that what Chuuya is feeling?
It's so easy to let his hands move on their own, to let his eyes trail over the fur and the patter
on the back of Dazai's kimono. Easy to accept it, easy to get lost in it, and so hard to figure
out the reason for it.
"Dazai." Chuuya's voice is calm, though he doesn't know why. "Why did you save me?"
Because the kitsune never told him that. No, Dazai only said why he didn't kill him. He could
have left Chuuya in the forest, he could have dropped him by the village for someone to find
him, but he didn't. Instead, Dazai brought him here; a human the kitsune should despise and
look down upon, a human that could have chosen not to take the medicine, or one that would
simply run away – and Chuuya never asked him why.
Not until now. Not until he finally doesn't fear the answer he might get because—
"Haven't you known the answer to that from the beginning?"
—yeah, he probably does know.
But is it the answer he wished for?
—12 years ago—
"You're going to be in trouble~ Shirase is going to get in trouble~ Shirase is..."
"Yuan, it's not funny! Hey!"
“But she's right."
"Not you too, Chuuya!"
Shirase's bright red face and quickly watering eyes make the other two kids burst out
laughing.
"I said it's not funny!" The boy tries again, his voice trembling slightly with the effort to not
let the tears fall down his cheek. "And if I get in trouble, you will too!"
Chuuya doesn't usually tease him that much, he much prefers playing games or climbing
trees with his friend whenever their parents aren't looking, but teasing him with Yuan around
is too funny. Almost like watching him spend two hours in the river searching for the prettiest
rock just so he can give it to the girl.
"I won't." Yuan laughs. "Mom is working until later, she won't know."
Dried leaves rustle under their feet as the kids continue walking. It's still early, still the time
they would be outside before their parents call them for dinner, so they're not breaking any
rules.
Or, well, almost any.
"She will if I tell her!" Shirase sticks his tongue out at the girl.
"Not fair!"
Chuuya stops in his tracks, chuckling to himself as his friends are running around him, Yuan
chasing the boy and Shirase still sticking his tongue out, mumbling something none of them
can understand.
Because there is one, very specific rule kids in the village must follow: do not go into the
forest, especially not alone. There's supposed to be a big, scary monster living here – that's
what the flower stall grandma says every time – and the older villagers say it eats children.
Well, too bad they're already 8 years old, they are responsible and won't get caught by any
old monster that changes his appearance every time the nice fish grandpa forgets his last
version of the story.
All in all, they'll be fine.
And they also know this monster is nothing but a story to keep them in the village. Chuuya
lives right by the forest's border and he has never seen any monsters. His dad being angry for
spilling ink all over the floor? Yes. Very scary.
But no monsters, or demons, or whatever his dad called it last time.
The redhead also mastered the art of sneaking out without being noticed, so it's not his first
time walking around here. Chuuya is probably the person who knows this forest best, because
all of the adults stay away from it too, just to keep the story believable, while he likes it.
There's a fallen tree bridging a small stream not too far from where they are now; if you cross
it, there are always so many rabbits and smaller animals around. Or, if they walk a bit further
in, there's a small waterfall that Chuuya discovered last year, perfect for catching lizards. So
even if he's not supposed to be here, it's not like anyone will know.
His dad is away for the day and as long as Chuuya shows up in the village before nightfall,
no one will question where the three of them went. He is safe.
Shirase, though, with his dirty and ripped clothes isn't .
"Okay, okay, I won't tell! Stop it now!"

Yuan finally lets go of his hair, a victorious grin spreading on her face. She knew the boy
wouldn't do it – that would be like being a traitor – but victory is always sweet. "You
deserved it." The girl huffs.
"Did not!"
Chuuya laughs at his friend's pouting face and hair sticking out in every direction, but he also
remembers why they came here. "Are you two done? We still haven't found anything and I'm
getting hungry."
"Yeah, let's go." Yuan agrees, looking around them. "Are you sure it's here?"
"Yes!" Shirase beams suddenly. "I heard my mom's friend saying there are so many berries
here, and that they're better than what they sell in the village." He sends Chuuya a grin. "And
free!"
"Hmm, but how would she know?" The girl sounds sceptical, but doesn't stop walking and
looking for anything resembling berry bushes. "Adults don't go near here."
"They probably do it when they send us to bed." Chuuya says.
"Or Shirase heard wrong. Again~"
"I did not! " The boy argues again, crossing his arms on his chest and walking faster now.
"They're definitely here, somewhere."
The only problem is...they've been walking for a while now, and haven't seen anything . More
than that, they're slowly reaching the furthest point that even Chuuya has ever got to. The
redhead isn't that worried, they simply need to remember which way they came from, but
they probably shouldn't go too far.
Just a little bit more.
And a little more…
The forest slowly starts looking more...wild as they continue. There are more older trees, the
kids can hear animals running around and birds singing above them. It gets colder, but that's
probably just from staying in the shadows for so long, and it gets darker. It's still too early for
the Sun to start going down, it's just that there are more trees throwing shadows on the kids'
path, but it feels weird.
And still no berries anywhere.
"I think we should go back." Chuuya eventually says. He's hungry and he doesn't recognise
where they are, he hasn't for a while now. Exploring the forest is fun, but getting lost is not .
"We aren't finding anything anyway."
"Yeah." Yuan sighs. "And I'm getting tired, I want a hot bun."
"Come on! They must be here somewhere... Look!" Shirase's face suddenly brightens up, his
hand pointing somewhere to their right. "It's berries! I told you!"
Chuuya and Yuan both look at what their friend is pointing at and… He's right. There are
berry bushes not too far from them, and they look just like the ones they sell in the village.
The kids come closer – Shirase almost throwing himself in delight – and pick a few…
They're sweet, really sweet. Exhaustion and worry are soon forgotten, replaced by hunger and
a sense of achievement. While Yuan continues to laugh at Shirase's berry-stained face and
clothes, Chuuya walks around, amazed at how many bushes there are here…
Until something catches his attention.
It's something small, but too big and strangely shaped to be a rock, partially hidden away by
wild grass and fallen leaves. It looks like a figure? A statue? Or maybe it is just a rock and
Chuuya is seeing things.
But his curiosity takes over.
The redhead leaves his friends bickering by the bushes and slowly walks closer to the strange
something. It's not that far away, he can still hear Shirase and Yuan behind him, but he never
reaches it. Instead, Chuuya stops a few metres away with his eyes wide .
The thing – that he now recognises as a small fox statue – looks old and abandoned, a given
in these parts. It's odd for it to be here, just one statue in the middle of a forest and far from
any shrine, but that's not why Chuuya's body is frozen still. Old, forgotten sculptures aren't
that unusual, he's heard stories from his uncle about the things the man sees during his
travels.
No, it's what surrounds it that makes all the stories he's been told by older villagers come
back to him. It's faint and Chuuya didn't see it from the distance, but now ...
Is it smoke? Is it fire? Is it—
//Do not go into the forest, ever. The demon marked it as his territory and anyone, child or
not, trespassing will be killed.//
–-blue?
The small, dim flames are floating right above the ground around the statue and stretching in
a faint line from both of its sides. It's faint, mostly hidden by the grass, but Chuuya knows it's
there. He doesn't know what it is or why it's there, but it's dangerous.
And they shouldn't be here—

"Chuuya?" Yuan's voice rings from behind him, startling the redhead "What are you looking
at?"
His friends come closer, their faces purple around their mouths from all the berries and eyes
full of curiosity.
"You okay?"
"I..." Chuuya looks between the two, his friends look...relaxed. "Let's go back now. We're too
far."
"Huh?" Confusion is replaced by a wide grin on Shirase's, his payback finally in hands reach.
"Are you scared~? Oh, don't worry, I'll protect you both from the monsters!"
Yuan rolls her eyes at him. "You'll be the bait distracting them while we run, at most."
"Hey!"
"Shh!" Chuuya's hands quickly move to cover his friends' mouths. "Don't be so loud!"
Now, both Shirase and Yuan look at each other with brows arched high in confusion. "Why?"
They mumble when the redhead takes his hands away.
"Because it will hear you!" His voice is hushed, but the other two don't bother with
whispering.
"But there's no monster here, Chuuya. You are the one always saying it's just a made up
story."
"Yeah, and we're fine, so what are you talking about?"
He can't blame them for acting like this, he would say the same things just a few minutes ago,
but it's different now. All the stories are coming back, all the times even older villagers were
eyeing the forest not with mock fear but with genuine worry. And even if a part of him
doesn't want to believe any of that, a bigger part, driven by his instincts, is telling him not to
tempt fate.
"That!" He whispers while pointing at the statue. "I'm talking about that!"
His friends turn their heads to look at it and—
"That's just an old figure, though?"
"Chuuya, a rock is not a monster."
—they don't look disturbed at all. Not by the small, stone fox, not by the flames.
Are they insane?

"Not the figure." He tries again, now pointing at the blue flames mapping a line stretching
through the forest. " That. It's its territory! See?!"
But when his friends look at the ground again…
"That's just dried leaves, Chuuya."
Huh?
"Did you eat some of the bad berries?" Yuan asks cautiously.
What...?
"No!" Chuuya shakes his head, blinking at the other two. "Do you not see that?"
"See what?"
" That! The fire!"
Shirase stares at him as if he lost his mind while Yuan looks around confused. "There's no
fire, though? It rained yesterday."
Chuuya tries to make sense of it, but he can't. If they don't see it, then maybe it was just his
mind playing tricks on him but… no matter how many times he looks, it's still there. No
matter how much he stares, the blue flames never go away. They're just...there, staring back
at him and daring the redhead to come closer, to pass the line that's there for a reason—
"Fine." Shirase sighs, slowly walking away and towards the statue. "I'll prove it to you."
Chuuya's blood turns cold as he watches his friend getting closer to the stone fox.
//...child or not...//
"No!" The redhead throws himself at the other, grabbing Shirase by the clothes and pulling
him away again. They both fall down on the ground, but on the safe side. "Stop it!" Chuuya
tugs at Shirase's dirty kimono. "Why would you try that?!"
"It's just an old statue! And now I'm dirty again!"
"What if—"
Crack.
All three of them freeze at the loud sound.
"What was that?" Yuan whispers, finally showing some concern as she looks around only to
find the same, dark forest surrounding them. The redhead watches the trees at the other side
of the blue line, but doesn't see anything, even if there's a faint feeling of something watching
them .
"A..." Shirase tries to sound calm. "...an animal?"
But it was much louder and closer than the sounds they heard before, followed by silence
creeping all around them.
"Let's go back, please." The redhead doesn't care about sounding desperate now, he just
wants to leave.
But the other boy still insists."I-it's not a monster."
"Whatever!" Yuan cuts in, helping both of them up. "Chuuya is right, let's just go..."
They leave the stone fox, running back to the village and silently agreeing to never speak of it
again…
However, what the kids don't know is that there is a monster in this forest, a fox that watched
the whole scene from afar, a fox that heard a human child saying they saw his flames, the
border Dazai set to be invisible to mortal eyes and, yet, the little redhead still saw past the
spell.
How strange.
The kitsune walks closer to the faint flames, but his magic doesn't seem weakened – the other
two children didn't see it after all. His red eye narrows as he looks after the long gone trio.
So it's just that one human boy?
After that, the kids stop visiting the forest. Shirase gets in trouble for ruining his clothes and
Yuan teases him for it for a long time, but they don't go to the forest anymore.
Then, many days later, someone doesn't come back.
Someone they didn't know well, someone not from around here – a person who strayed too
far into the dark. The kids know the story they're being told is just to scare them, but only as
they grow up they realise—
The adults never go into the forest.
Their words are meant to scare children away, because they themselves are full of fear.
Shirase and Yuan learn about it during the years Chuuya is away from the village, but by that
time they've already forgotten what once happened.
Only Chuuya didn't.
He comes back to the village at 15, he starts working and… he visits it again. To make sure it
was real, to make sure he didn't dream about it – and the blue flames are always there.
No matter how many times he goes into the forest, the redhead always comes back. He never
crosses the fire line, never even comes close to it, and he never mentions it again. Not to his
friends, not to other villagers, not to anyone .
Just so that he's the only one to know about it.
(But he isn't. )
Chapter End Notes
Kitsunezai and Chuuya are finally getting closer~ let's see how long that will last and
how far they'll get~
Also, I'm so soft for Chuuya brushing Dazai's tails, so it'll be recurring thing :3
The Calm...
Chapter Notes
—present time—
Every day feels the same and, yet, different.
The same because Chuuya continues to tend to the garden, he continues to talk to Ryuu and
drink tea with Gin just like he did before. Different because… some things have changed
since that one evening in Dazai's room.
One difference Chuuya and everyone else sees is the one thing the redhead tries to ignore –
not because he doesn't like it, but because it's hard to admit to it without explaining why he’s
doing it. He still works, yes, but he's doing it much slower now.
He makes sure to tidy up a small part of the garden every day, but he's not rushing it. Some
days, he'll spend over half a day with Ryuu and Gin, some days he'll read the books they offer
him, a longer break here, a bit more sleep there, because once he's done – it’ll be the end.
He will be gone .
Chuuya knows that he's prolonging his stay here and he knows it's on purpose, but he never
says it, and neither do the demons. They don't ask why he's doing it, they don't make him
work faster… If anything, they seem to enjoy it more this way, like the time they can spend
around the redhead, talking to him instead of simply watching him complete his chores, feels
better than what was between them until now.
Another difference, though, is Dazai.
Before, there used to be this invisible wall separating Chuuya from the fox – a gap that, in the
beginning, seemed obvious, natural, safe. It was there because it had to be, because a human
and a kitsune should never come too close, their lives should never tangle with each other
because their worlds will never be the same.
They talked, but never came closer.
They bickered, but never did anything more.
Not until Chuuya crossed the line between their worlds by coming to Dazai's room and
offering something that wasn't supposed to happen between them: gentleness. Something
that felt not that far from trust, and ever since then, the fox has started being less… mindful,
but not in a bad way.
The feeling of his tails brushing Chuuya's skin is so familiar by now. They poke his head
when he's not paying attention to the other's words, they rub his arms on the evenings when
the late summer's wind gets colder. Sometimes they catch him when Chuuya trips because
he's not looking where he’s going, too lost in the conversation or his own thoughts.
They didn't do that before, but now the redhead doesn't even remember the time he feared
them.
Dazai's tails are soft and warm and gentle, even when the kitsune's words are full of teasing,
and tricks, and mind games. The fox never answered Chuuya's question that evening, but that
was an answer in itself. After all the times he felt something watching him whenever he'd
come closer to the blue flames in the forest, after knowing that no one else can see them—
It’s not that it wasn’t his time to leave this world.
Dazai was simply curious, because he knew of Chuuya.
It makes sense, in many strange ways, but the redhead can't stop thinking about it – is it the
answer he wanted? Should he feel relieved it's that simple? That he wasn't the kitsune's target
after all? Should he feel relieved knowing that if it wasn't for the situation that almost killed
him, Chuuya could have led his entire life among humans, never meeting the fox or his
ōkami servants.
...should he really feel bad that there was no other meaning to it?
The thoughts never quite go away. At times, they're quiet, hiding away in the back of his head
and letting Chuuya enjoy the happiness he’s found here, but they're always there – laughing
at how conflicted and uncertain the redhead is about his own feelings, especially when Dazai
is near.
The kitsune has a talent for messing with Chuuya's mind, even when he may not be aware of
it. Because every time Chuuya sees him, he remembers, and when he remembers – he starts
questioning it all again.
What is this feeling?
Why is it there?
What does he even expect?
It's a swirling mess of thoughts that could drive anyone crazy but, the moment Dazai speaks
to him… it's gone. In these moments, the doubts of his past don't matter, the questions don't
scream for answers anymore. No, in these moments there is only warmth enveloping
Chuuya's body.
He's here, why would it matter how it started?
Their days shift from occasional bickering during the redhead's breaks to, well, long
conversations. Walks around the forest during the day, watching as summer slowly starts to
fade away, waiting for leaves to burn bright colours again once autumn comes. More and
more often it’s normal to find Dazai watching – and disrupting – Chuuya's cooking and
eating time, always asking way too many questions about things that are trivial, to a human,
at least.
And at night... that's the time when the line between them gets blurred.
When humans and demons don’t exist, it’s only them, sitting side by side as if that’s where
they are supposed to be.
It's the time when Chuuya brushes Dazai's tails, when he talks about his childhood memories
to fill the silence between them, when he lets the fox watch him paint whenever he feels like
it. It's the nights that feel so strange and so right all the same—
"Chibi wants me to do what?" Dazai looks over his shoulder with an arched brow at the
redhead sitting between his tails, slowly brushing the soft fur.
"...tell me a story?" Chuuya says again, feeling slightly more awkward about his request now.
"This…" He gestures to the tails. "...takes time, and I've already talked for too long. Your
turn."
"A story about what?"
"I don't know, anything?" The redhead can’t really ask about stories from Dazai's childhood,
can he? He’s not even sure if the fox had one. "You weren't always on this mountain, were
you?"
"No..." The fox turns around again, looking straight ahead. "I wasn't. But that wouldn't be a
nice story."
The most feared kitsune, the one that is believed to hate humanity – there is probably a
reason for all the things Dazai has been called, but it can't be everything there is to the fox.
Chuuya doesn't believe there's nothing more to him other than that, other than the blood he
must have spilled over the years and the lives he’s taken.
"Was there nothing interesting?" He tries, maybe the fox just forgot about the good times,
about the peaceful parts of his long life. "Nothing fun? Bloodlessly fun, if possible."
The comment makes Dazai chuckle, though Chuuya isn't sure if he meant for it to be a joke
or not.
"Well," The kitsune starts. "My definition of fun may be very different to yours, Chibi, but I
guess not every day was… covered in red."
Chuuya huffs at him, a sparkle of irritation lighting up in his chest at the stupid nickname
Dazai refuses to drop. Normally, he would argue and tell him to stop calling him that or he’ll
cut his fur short, but just as he opens his mouth, the other starts speaking and…
It's a side of him Chuuya never knew.

Stories of places he's never visited, yōkai he's never even heard of and he’s been subjected to
quite a few stories from his caretaker after his father passed away. It’s not a single tale he
tells, not a continuous string of events – Dazai speaks about small encounters that aren’t
connected with each other, jumping between different times, different centuries, as if it was
nothing.
Demons, spirits, gods… There’s so much in his words that should feel unimaginable for
Chuuya, but the fox makes it seem so simple, so natural. He doesn’t describe them as these
amazing new creatures that humanity is blind to, he talks about them the same way Chuuya
talks about his village, about other humans. There may not be any strong feeling in Dazai’s
words, he clearly doesn’t care about the people he meets, not the same way the redhead cares
about his friends, but there’s no surprise in his voice, no malice.
(Probably because he leaves the bad parts out, for now.)
It’s just… memories. Stories of his life in a world that exists so close to Chuuya’s despite not
actually being the same.
It’s only when Dazai starts talking about having met a dragon, that Chuuya’s mind doesn't
want to believe it, his denial making the brunette laugh as he uses his tails to poke the boy’s
forehead.
"You didn't have a problem when I was talking about gods, but a dragon is too much?"
"Obviously!" Well, actually… “I mean, how would they even hide?”
From what the kitsune said, gods reside in their own dimensions, whatever that may mean,
but how would an actual dragon never be seen by humans? There aren’t even that many
stories about them because no one in their right mind would believe it, no matter how
religious.
“Have you ever seen me before coming here?” Dazai asks, mockingly. “Or any other
demons?”
“But you’re…” Not human, but close enough. Plus, the fox rarely ever leaves the residence
from what Chuuya can tell. “...if it was dark, you could pass as a human.”
“I’m not the only one who can take a human form, Chibi, and dragons are supposed to be one
of the most powerful creatures out there. Tricking mortals would not be a problem for them.”
Chuuya cock his head, arching a brow even if the fox can’t see him in this position. “
‘Supposed’ to be?” His question is daring, hiding genuine curiosity the boy doesn’t wish to
show. “Is that your arrogance speaking or…?”
Looking over his shoulder, Dazai sends him a teasing smirk, his eye flashing red for a
second.
“Who knows~”
Ah, yes. Asking the kitsune a question never ends with an answer.
The discussion doesn't stay heated for long, Dazai continues his tale of ‘a fox who wanders
alone before he picks up two little dogs to join him’ and Chuuya can’t help but remember
what Ryuu once said about life being easier if he keeps his tails and ears hidden. Poor
siblings, though, they don’t seem unhappy here and it doesn’t feel like they’re being kept
here by force. It’s like they choose to stay, to serve this annoying fox despite the jokes they
had to endure.
Dazai also talks about the friends he made somewhere along the line and it may be the first
time ever Chuuya hears him say that word while talking about his own life. It’s brief, there
aren’t many details about who these friends of his are or how he met them, but his tone seems
lighter when he speaks, it sounds more honest than before. As if this is a story he wants to
tell, memories he wants to cherish.
And Chuuys takes all of it in.
He hears the slightest changes in the other's tone, knowing that there is another, much darker,
side to what he's saying, but choosing to only think about what he’s being given and not
about what lies beyond. He sees every sway of Dazai's tails, every twitch of his ears, how his
shoulders shake when he laughs, really laughs. It’s not a teasing chuckle, there’s no mockery
behind it, and Chuuya doesn't even realise when he starts smiling himself.
He’s glad to be told all of this, he’s glad to know it’s not just blood and darkness that paints
Dazai’s past, but also unplanned journeys, drinking with his friends, taking care and training
the only servants he has ever accepted.
It all sounds so… human .
Somehow, Chuuya gets a feeling that sharing all of it isn't meaningless to Dazai, that it's not
as easy as it sounds and the fox allows it to be heard because… well, that the boy doesn't
know. The way of Dazai’s mind is like a labyrinth and while Chuuya is starting to learn its
paths, there’s still so much more to explore.
But he listens.
He listens to him until all the knots are gone, until the redhead doesn't have to stay but
chooses to, because running his fingers through Dazai's tails is so soothing and nice, until it
gets late but the room stays so warm. He stays until the fox's words turn softer, quieter, until
his eyelids get heavier…
Chuuya doesn't know it when he is falling asleep, hugged by the soft tails blanketing him, but
he knows relaxing into it feels natural, it feels safe. Like the embrace his soul has been
longing for despite not knowing it.
The next time he opens his eyes, it's already morning and Chuuya is in his own room, warm
and comfortable under the cover of his futon.
He lets himself forget about who Dazai is once more, he lets himself forget about the stories
told in the village – he doesn't care about them because the kitsune he sees isn't the same as
the one he's been warned about. The kitsune he knows may not be the definition of kindness,
he may be insufferable with his trick and arrogance, but he’s not a monster, so Chuuya lets
the words he was raised with fade away.
He’ll spend his days believing in the fox he sees and not in the fox he’s heard of.
…until the world reminds him that it is, indeed, the same one.
Chapter End Notes
We've got some soft feelings developing here but, unfortunately, we're now off to angst
arc :< it'll last for a while and it'll hurt but the fluff that follows will make up for it, I
swear...
This chapter was a bit short because I didn't write much in the original draft but the next
few ones will be longer :3
...Before The Storm
Chapter Notes
"I doubt it's possible, but is Dazai sick?" Chuuya tries to sound uninterested when he asks
that, but the sole fact that he is asking about the kitsune is giving his concerns away.
He's sitting on the engawa with Ryuu and Gin, basking in the last rays of summer and
enjoying the snacks he made earlier. The siblings are still nothing more than helpless when it
comes to cooking – a fact they argue comes from the lack of need to cook or eat human food
– but they never turn Chuuya down when he offers them what he’s made. They're always
happy when he does it, especially Gin who seems to love human sweets even if Chuuya can
only make basic treats.
But when they hear his question, their expressions stiffen for a second, followed by silence
lasting a bit too long to feel comfortable.
"Why would you ask that?" Ryuu eventually asks, his tone neutral.
"That fox hasn't bothered me at all for the last two days." Not that Chuuya minds the lack of
Dazai's comments, of course not. It's just weird when his days are suddenly so quiet after
weeks of constant bickering.
He hasn't even seen the kitsune since two days ago, which is even more suspicious.
"Dazai–sama isn't sick, no." The boy speaks slowly, nothing too out of the ordinary, but it
sounds like he's taking his time to choose the correct words, like there is something he tries to
omit. "He's... busy. "
"Busy? As in...?"
"He can't 'bother' you because he's..." Ryuu averts his gaze, briefly looking at his sister before
bringing a cup of tea to his mouth. "...away."
That does explain it and, from what he was told, Dazai used to spend a lot of time away from
the residence, even after he’d already settled in the forest. Just because Chuuya is here and
the fox made sure to annoy him every day without fail doesn't mean anything.
He can have his own life and responsibilities, but then — why is Ryuu so tense about it?
"Is he visiting these friends of his?"
The boy considers it for a moment, but it feels more like he's only delaying his answer. "No."
Just that? Just ‘no’?

"Okay...?" Chuuya looks between the siblings, noticing how Gin keeps looking away from
him. "Listen, if it's something you can't tell me, just say so." The redhead is curious, but he
also knows that he's not a part of the world the other three live in, he has only known them
for less than two months, of course there must be things they won't trust him with.
Things Dazai can't trust him with.
It's reasonable, it's fine — it doesn't hurt.
"It's not that, it's—" Ryuu sounds apologetic, but above anything else he sounds torn between
choices Chuuya doesn't see. "It's not that we can't. "
"Then what?" They can but they won’t? Is that it?
"It's just… complicated, in many ways."
The redhead furrows his brows at the other boy, he can handle 'complicated' and doesn't
understand why the siblings are acting like that, why they're hiding something they,
apparently, don't have to hide. He’s itching to ask, but he doesn't feel it would be right of him
to push them, to ask more about the matters he has never been involved in, and Ryuu looks
like he really doesn't want to explain, despite his natural expressionless face.
His face is always the same, but the small gestures – how he's avoiding Chuuya's gaze, how
his movements are a bit more stiff than usual – give away the uneasiness he feels. For
whatever reason, Ryuu doesn't want to tell Chuuya what is happening and, fair, he doesn't
have to.
...but then Gin speaks and it changes everything.
"He should know." She says. "So that he's ready."
Because that is what plants a seed of worry in the redhead's mind, his instincts suddenly
taking over and drawing demanding words out of his lips before he thinks about it.
"Ready for what?" He asks, more firmly than before.
The girl doesn't say anything else and her brother sighs uncomfortably before replying.
"Hopefully for nothing."
"You don't sound convinced."
"Because I'm not."
"Then tell me what is going on, Ryuu. Why do I need to be ready for something and for
what? "
By now, every time the siblings exchange these looks full of doubt, Chuuya grows more and
more irritated. They can't just say something like that and then expect him to let it go. Not
when it sounds this concerning, not when it sounds important.
Eventually, Ryuu puts his cup down on the wood, shifting so that he's fully facing the redhead
with his arms crossed.
"It's not a very good time now. For yōkai, I mean. Summers are calm, mostly peaceful, but
once September comes things get... troublesome. Everyone… well, most of us are relaxed
and preparing for the Autumn Festival, but there are those of our kind that use it to cause
problems."
A festival? Demons have festivals? But leaving that aside for later…
"And Dazai is dealing with them now? Like, every year?"
"No, not every year." Ryuu sighs again, but this time it's more like he's remembering a very
annoying past rather than trying to find his way out of this conversation. "The problems are
every year, yes, but that's why everyone is already used to them, we all have our own
countermeasures. Plus, not many are stupid enough to try and get on Dazai–sama bad side.
It's just that this year someone decided to try and… well, Dazai–sama didn't like it."
Chuuya can't see where the complicated part in all of that is, and even more so he doesn't see
why he should be ready for anything. They have countermeasures, right? He never even
leaves the house alone anymore and Ryuu and Gin make sure no one enters the kitsune’s
domain.
So what is the catch, then?
"I still don't see anything that would involve me."
"Well." Ryuu clears his throat, shifting in place uncomfortably. "Not may are stupid enough
to go against Dazai–sama, so when someone does try, especially after Dazai–sama was in a
good mood, it can get... messy."
Messy, as in…?
"And this time" The boy adds, quieter than before. "Humans are also involved."
...oh.
When realisation hits him, Chuuya's eyes widen and a cold shiver runs down his spine.
Oh.
"...am I..." His throat is suddenly too dry, his thoughts too violent. "Am I in danger? Is he...?"
"No!" Both of the siblings shake their heads immediately and Ryuu tries to sound reassuring.
"No, I... I don't think so."
"You don't think so? So you're not sure, are you?"
"Chuuya, it's—" For the first time, the boy actually looks bothered, brows knitted together
and eyes full of concern. "Dazai–sama wouldn't hurt you, not when he's in his right mind."
That's what Chuuya used to believe, but is it really true?
"Then why are you hesitating, Ryuu?"
"I'm not, it's just that sometimes, when Dazai–sama is annoyed and comes back from...
'taking care of things'..."
That's just killing, isn't it? He’s coming back from killing humans, or demons, or whatever.
"...he's not exactly himself. Well, not the self that you know. He's colder, more dangerous and
unpredictable and he doesn't care. About anything ."
'He won't care about Chuuya' is what he's trying to say, isn't he? Ryuu is telling him that the
kitsune won't care about something as annoying as a human.
In his mind, in the memories of his early days here, the redhead can see a fox that thought of
him as nothing more than a plaything. It's that version of Dazai that Chuuya chose to ignore,
a past he treated as unimportant because things changed, because he believed in what he saw,
in what he felt.
And not what came before that.
"..." Chuuya feels cold, even when the days are still warm. "What did she mean by 'being
ready'?"
He can't fight a demon, he can't run — what do they expect him to do if the fox tries
something?
"Chuuya..." Ryuu looks beaten, like he knows the redhead is hurt and he didn't mean for it to
be like that. "He may come back normal. It doesn't happen every time, and Dazai–sama
wouldn't want to hurt you. He doesn't have a reason to."
But does a demon really need a reason to want to hurt a human?
"And it doesn't last. He will be the same person you know, he just needs time."
Despite all logic and reason, Chuuya tries to believe him, he tries to understand. Everyone
has worse days, everyone gets angry sometimes – humans do and, as it turns out, so do yōkai.
It's the way this world works, a pattern no one can escape.
The happiest person will have a day when they crumble under the weight of their tears before
letting them fall. The calmest person will reach their limits, letting anger take over for once.
It has happened over and over again, and Chuuya himself isn't any different.
He has good days, he has very bad ones – he shouldn't erase the moments he shared with
Dazai just because the kitsune has emotions that sometimes take over. He shouldn't, he really
shouldn't, it wouldn’t be fair.
He doesn't want to—

"He'll be back soon. Just… maybe try to stay in your room for a while? Just one evening?"
—but a part of him has to.
It's his instincts, a piece of himself he never lets go of because it keeps Chuuya alive. Maybe
it won't happen, maybe Ryuu is being paranoid and he'll be fine. Maybe they will be fine.
If he just waits, if he just stays away until things are normal again. He can sleep early, he can
do anything other than wait for the fox to come back, he doesn't need to know how Dazai
looks when he's back, he only wishes to be greeted with the same playful tone the fox always
uses around him.
But Chuuya has never had much luck, has he?
He didn't mean for it to happen, he didn't think it would happen so soon and so out of
nowhere. He just wanted to go back to his room after taking a bath, he just wanted to sleep
and forget. He didn't want to know—
"Dazai...?"
—so why is he at the main entrance?
Why is he looking at the kitsune standing in the doorframe, dim light falling on the tall figure
coming out of the darkness of the night outside with blood scattered on his clothes and face?
Why does Chuuya not recognise the face he sees?
Dazai doesn't move, he just stares at the redhead with a cold, pitch black eye devoid of any
emotion. "Why are you here?" Even his voice sounds lifeless, detached from the reality they
shared just a few days ago. Like he doesn't recognise Chuuya.
"I..." Swallowing is hard, breathing is hard, holding the gaze so cold and foreign is hard . "I
thought I heard you come back and—"
"You decided to welcome me? What a good servant."
It's usually there, but at this moment Chuuya can't hear the tease behind that one word. It's
not Dazai trying to rile him up, it's not Dazai trying to laugh at Chuuya's angry face. He's not
serious about it either, he's just—
"Are you satisfied now?"
—he sounds empty.
The redhead doesn't answer, doesn't move, he just looks at all the…
"You're covered in blood."

It's a thought Chuuya never meant to let slip out of his mind, and he really shouldn't have let
that happen because that short sentence, that simple but terrifying fact is what makes Dazai
move.
"Is that a problem?" He tilts his head to the side, one eye shining with bright red now. "Are
you bothered by it?" He takes a slow step forward, inside the house. "It's not mine, so it
doesn't matter, does it?"
It does and it doesn't.
Chuuya wants to ask whose blood it is, but the answer he'll get won't change anything.
Too bad his face says it all for him and he doesn't need to say anything for Dazai to know.
The fox takes another step closer and Chuuya, for the first time in a long time, takes a step
back when he sees it.
"Do you want to know whose it is? Do you care? Or are you just curious, human?"
There's no intent to harm him, Chuuya doesn't even feel any real spite in Dazai's words, but
they still make his blood run cold.
…or hot, perhaps?
Is he scared? Or is he angry about being treated like this? Which is it?
"Oh, but is it important who I killed? How many I killed?" The fox gradually gets closer as
his voice turns darker. "Will you be happy if I say they were all demons, little human? "
Chuuya's back hits the wall behind him, grounding him in place as unable to move away
without breaking eye contact. Dazai's words make him flinch because — would he feel better
if it wasn't humans?
"Stop it." He says instead, somehow managing to stop his voice from shaking, but the other
doesn't listen.
"Or..." A grin stretches on Dazai's face. "Would you prefer it if they were criminals? People
not worth saving?" Blue eyes widen at the words, Chuuya's hands tightening into fists at his
sides. "People who deserved to die—"
"I said stop it. " The redhead hisses. Not scared, but with desperate rage starting to boil in his
gut.
"You can't order me, human." The kitsune shakes his head, never stopping in his tracks. "You
can't hide and you can't lie to me. You want this blood to be—"
"No!"
"Are you pretending to care now? Do you think it makes you better than me?"
Chuuya feels sick, he feels his blood starting to boil with every word slipping out of Dazai's
mouth. Why is he saying all of that? Is that what his face shows? Is that what he sounds like?
"I never said that."
"But you thought that, didn't you?"
"No, I—"
"That's a lie. " It's not empty anymore, the fox's stare is piercing through Chuuya with a
burning intensity. "You think this blood makes me a monster while you ..." Dazai is only a
few steps away from him now. "...you think you're innocent. Am I wrong?"
The redhead swallows, pushing into the hard wood behind him, but his blue eyes are filled
with determination to fight. He doesn’t agree. (But he also doesn’t say anything to deny, does
he?) "I'm not a murderer."
"Of course." The brunette laughs at him, but there's no warmth behind it, no, his laugh is/
cutting through Chuuya's body. "You're just a small, harmless human — is that what you
think? Always good, always right, always—"
"I'm not, but I don't kill. " He spits every word out, too sick of this whole conversation and
the fox that just won't listen to him. "And I have a name, you shitty—"
SLAM!
Chuuya flinches when Dazai's hand hits the wall over his head, a sound loud and sudden
enough to punch the air out of his lungs and make the redhead fall silent.
"Well, then let me tell you something, Chuuya. "
It's accompanied by a sound of nails scratching the wood so close to his ear, but the redhead
can only pretend it doesn't make him want to run, pinned in place by a red eye.
"You can say whatever you want, acting like a good human until everyone gets sick of it."
Dazai leans closer, dangerously close, until their faces are inches apart. "But it won't change
anything because, at the end of it all, you and I are the same. "
Chuuya forces himself to shake his head, or at least try to. "No." He whispers weakly.
"Oh yes, Chuuya. The only difference is that I am not scared of the blood on my hands. I
don't lie about being innocent when I'm not. Do you think I don't know? Do you think I
never saw it, never heard it?"
The redhead freezes, this throat tight and his breathing halting.
"All these people that came my way, all these travellers that I burnt to ashes over the last five
years. I may have killed them, oh but Chuuya~"
He wants to run, to hide, to go back to how it was before all of this.
“You sent them my way."
//They say you're a bad omen.//
His voice is weak, barely more than a whisper now, and there are tears pooling in his eyes,
wetness Chuuya forces to stay contained. "I don't know what you're talking about."
But he can't fool Dazai. He can try and he does, however…
"I saw it every time.” Nothing can fool a kitsune that knows the truth. “How these people
came to your village, how they caused harm to your people, how you used their lack of
knowledge. What was it that you'd tell them? Something about the 'demon's gold' hidden in
the forest? These officials that killed some old man's dog? The woman before them that
threatened your friends with her family's power? Every time you told them to come here and
every time they did. Every time they died because you wanted them to."
Oh, how much these sound like empty accusations. How much they aren’t.
Chuuya remembers every person, every conversation. He remembers every time he looked
away and chose to forget, to not think about what would happen to them.
"How are we any different, Chuuya?" Dazai straightens again, but his nails are still digging
into the wood next to Chuuya's face. "My hands are dripping with blood, but so are yours. "
He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know whether there is anything he can say. His body
is shivering, lips pressed into a thin line—
"You're just too scared to admit it, human."
—and a single tear trails down his cheek.
Just like that, Chuuya is left alone in the dim light of candles that doesn't bring him any
warmth anymore. He's left with the thoughts he tried so hard to lock away in his mind,
memories he erased and guilt he never felt before.
Just like that, Chuuya slides down to the floor, head hidden between his knees, and lets cold
shivers shake his body.
He deserved it.
The rumours about him, the isolation from the village, wounds that almost killed him. He
deserved the judgement in Dazai's eye and voice...
...but, back when he was bleeding out on the forest’s cold ground, did he deserve to be saved
by the one he used?
Chuuya knows a new day has already started – he can see sunlight creeping into his room
through the cracks between wooden panels – but he doesn't make any effort to get up, there's
no point. Not when his mind is still locked away in the darkness of last night.
Has he slept at all? He's not sure.
All Chuuya remembers is stumbling to his room with a spinning head, falling on the futon
and just staring ahead. It was dark for so long, maybe some of it was a dream after all?
…has he ever dreamt?...
Oh, right.
He hasn't.
But then again, maybe drowning in black can be considered dreaming? Does it even matter?
He's been staring and staring and staring —
And then the world started turning brighter, birds started chirping their morning songs.
Too bad Chuuya still feels cold.
Would he have felt better if he had listened to Ryuu and stayed away? Why did he go to see
Dazai, anyway? He wasn't going to, he was told not to go and, yet, when he heard Dazai
come back, his legs moved on their own.
Why?
Did he want to catch the fox at his worst? Did he want to see the stories come true? Did
Chuuya want a reason to leave?
No… it wasn't that.
It would be easier to think of it this way, but he knows it's not true. He can lie about it, but
what for? He would only be lying to himself and no one else. Deep down, Chuuya knows
why his legs moved, he knew it back then too. He was naive, he was stupid, he—
He hoped.
For all of it not to be true, for whatever Dazai did not to affect who he is. Chuuya hoped for
them to stay the same, for Dazai to see him and recognise him, tease Chuuya for getting out
of his way to welcome him, maybe complain about having to do extra work. And the irony of
all of that?
Dazai did recognise him.
And who he saw was the real Chuuya.
Not the one carelessly smiling all day, not the one complaining about the fox disturbing his
work, not the boy who laughed happily and didn't even mind befriending demons.
No.
The person that Dazai saw was someone Chuuya kept locked away, even from himself.
The person that knew how easy it was to trick arrogant strangers into walking right into their
demise, all on their own. The person that knew which strings to push and when to do it,
someone who simply looked the other way when a drunk creep started walking toward the
forest and not the village. Because that’s who truly Chuuya is. Who he has been for a long
time now.
...but he had reasons for it, or so he likes to reason with himself. He was helping his people –
these strangers coming to their village weren't any good for this world. They wouldn't follow
his words if they weren't overcome by greed, if they didn't seek power to then use it to hurt
others just for the joy of doing so.
He didn't do it for fun.
He didn't do it because he was bored.
He isn't murdering people just because they step into his house. He is not like the kitsune.
He's not a murderer, he doesn't enjoy it—
Ah, but that's also a lie, isn't it?
Chuuya curls up on the futon, his eyes still set on the light that seems to mock him, to remind
him of something taken from him, something he abandoned. He has always thought that as
long as there is no blood on his hands, he can detach himself from this part of himself that
would tell him he's doing something right.
As long as he walks away and doesn't look back to see these people step into the forest, he'll
be fine, because it was their own choices, their own actions...
...and Chuuya's well–played games.
//You think you're innocent.//

He never truly believed that, but he lived like he/was just that: just another boy, just another
person taking care of his friends.
//You and I are the same.//
Chuuya thought it would be impossible – he's human while Dazai is not – but… how were
his tricks any different to those of kitsunes?
//You sent them my way.//
The words keep repeating themselves in his mind, Dazai's cold voice ringing in his ears even
when Chuuya covers them with his hands and tries to forget.
Again.
Pretend it never happened.
Again.
But he can't. Not when someone confronted him with it like that, not after he was cornered
into feeling guilty over the life he has led. Is it his punishment? Did Dazai want to see him
fall apart? Is this his revenge for tricking the fox into doing Chuuya's killing?
Maybe the kitsune hates him after all.
Maybe it was all just a plan to make it hurt more.
Chuuya just wanted to see him, to know that he's back and that he’s himself . He didn't do
anything worth punishing last night, he didn't do anything wrong. Even with all the people he
sent to Dazai over the last 5 years, their number must be nothing compared to—
Oh.
//You think this blood makes me a monster//
...oh.
He doesn't, he doesn't, he didn't—
//I'm not a murderer.//
—but he did.
Was it in his eyes? In his voice? Was his body showing the thoughts lurking in his mind
without his consent? ...did Chuuya go to see Dazai to make himself feel better? To see
someone worse than him? Someone to blame for everything?
Was it really what he wanted?
Chuuya squeezes his eyes and embraces the darkness once more. The futon is soft, but it feels
rock hard, the comforter keeps warmth inside, but the redhead is still trembling. Breathing
feels painful, keeping his mind from spiralling down feels impossible—
He didn't mean to.
He didn't mean to, he didn't mean to, he didn't mean to.
…and yet he did.
He wanted to see a monster, so that's what he saw, and Chuuya let it show. His thoughts, his
fears, his relief.
He didn't ask about the troubles Dazai had to face, about the problems that have kept him
away for two days or about how he felt. The moment Chuuya saw blood on the fox's clothes,
his mind decided that it was all Dazai's fault, that he always complied and killed everyone,
that he didn't care.
The redhead put all the blame on the kitsune who… has lived here since long before Chuuya
was even born. And the boy, at that time when his mind went back to all the stories told about
people disappearing in the forest, still thought it was Dazai’s fault for settling here.
Ah, Chuuya is truly selfish, arrogant and awfully human.
Of course he deserved what he got, of course he deserved to be hated, to be looked down on,
to be hurt and to be blamed—
But the material of his kimono is so gentle on his skin.
Chuuya made Dazai angry, made him act the way the redhead wanted him to and say all these
things to his face but… Did he really want to make Chuuya feel guilty? Or was he just
frustrated? Was he hurt by the redhead’s words?
Dazai wanted him to admit to what he's done, to the deaths he has caused, but... was it to
make him regret it all? The fox's voice was so cold and piercing, his eye dangerously red and
his words cut through Chuuya's very soul, making him crumble, but…
Was it because of anger or pain? Or maybe both?
Because now, after hours of staring into darkness and hating the truth forced onto him,
Chuuya finally realises why he's feeling guilty, and it's not about the deaths he has caused,
not about the lies he has lived. He's guilty because he pushed his own sins onto someone else.
Someone who, even if not innocent, isn't the cause of all evil.
//Do you think it makes you better than me?//
And the problem is – Chuuya did think that, even if only for a second.
Now he knows that he isn't, he accepts that he isn't, but it's too late. A few hours too late, one
conversation too late.
One lost chance too late.
It's been a while since the last time anyone caused Dazai this much trouble. They weren't
even strong enough to entertain him in a battle, but there were many of them, and they clearly
had some demon's help, considering how magic emanated from their armour and weapons.
They weren't all humans, which was even more annoying, and he even spent two days
interrogating some of them just to find out who caused it.
But he didn't find that out.
Their minds were weak, tampered with by whoever sent them, and the leftover spell seemed
familiar but Dazai couldn't remember where from and they were useless in providing an
answer.
At least they won't be bothering him anymore. He took care of that.
...and then he let his irritation out on Chuuya.
Dazai looks down at the hand holding a wet towel he uses to get rid of the blood from his
tails. He didn't care enough to do it last night, but now it disgusts him too much to let it be.
He doesn't try to be gentle with his fur, he just wants it clean. If it's tangled again, Chibi can
brush—
Oh.
He won't be doing that anymore, will he? Not after last night.
Dazai can still remember the face that greeted him, but he wishes he wouldn't. It's not like he
has ever tried to hide his demonic side from the Chibi, he doesn't mind showing it, but it's
also true that there are times where his past self resurfaces, the part of him that he doesn't
regret but also isn't fond of anymore either. The part of him that is terrifying, is cruel.
But it's also not a secret.
Ryuu and Gin would have warned Chuuya not to go near him when he's back, they most
certainly did because they grew close to the human, who didn't listen and paid the price for it.
The face that greeted Dazai was scared, eyes full of terror, but that the fox could have lived
with. It would be fine for Chuuya to fear him – he probably should – and Dazai wouldn't
blame him.
But it wasn't just fear.
His hands press harder into the fur at the memory of the redhead's voice because he knows
that tone, he's heard it more times than he can count. It's the tone others used to accuse him of
any and all crimes they could think of, regardless whether he actually committed them or not,
they used it to call him a monster, a devil, or whatever came into their minds.
And it's fine, because that's what he is.
Because he did and still does kill whenever needed, but he doesn't do it for fun as he once
used to. He settled here, a long long time ago, because he's had enough of all the fighting and
blood. He wanted peace in a place that would be his.
Dazai doesn't expect others to forget what he's done, the lives he's taken – he doesn't care if
they remember. It's his past and he won't try to hide it.
...but the Chibi went even past that.
It's fine if the boy fears him, if he calls Dazai a monster – but that look in his eyes full of
disgust? As if Chuuya was better than him? Because he's a human? Because his hands aren't
painted with blood that can be seen?
Dazai never minded killing those who the Chibi sent his way; they were nothing to him other
than a nuisance. But they weren't his victims.
He spread the stories about him among humans so that they would keep away from his forest.
For centuries he made sure people knew not to disturb him because he didn't see a point in
unnecessary deaths that only wasted his time. And all these people would be alive if not for
the gold that doesn't even exist.
If not for a story that Chuuya told and then conveniently shoved onto him.
Dazai never needed the boy to feel guilty, he never wanted an apology or anything close to it.
All he would ever ask for was acceptance. Not of his past, not of his sins, but of the truth that
not everything is his fault.
…yet, Chuuya's eyes screamed with blame, his voice rang with disgust.
All while his mind relaxed, his body visibly relieved, and it was then that Dazai realised the
Chibi wasn't actually looking at this blood, at the fresh stains blooming on the fox's clothes
and body. No, he was looking at the blood he never saw, but knew it was there. Chuuya
looked at his own past and pretended it wasn't his.
Because Dazai is the one who's evil.
Because Dazai is the one who kills.
Because—
The spot he's been cleaning suddenly stings as the fox's nails dig into it without thinking,
making him hiss in discomfort.
—Chuuya never even asked if he was hurt, whether some of this blood was his and not the
people he faced. And, fair, it wasn't but… Dazai truly thought Chibi would at least ask. The
human always cares so much about everyone and everything, his hands are always so gentle
when they brush the kitsune's tails.
Was it really too much for him to... worry, just a bit? Or at least run away when he saw him?
That's something the brunette would understand and not hold against him, even if a part of
him wished Chuuya wouldn't do that.
And, in the end, he got what he wanted.
But was it worth it?
Chuuya's words made him angry, frustrated, and in response Dazai let himself be cruel, he
didn't try to stop it. He wanted the redhead to understand his own actions, wanted to make
him accept the faults that were his and he did—
Though, was it worth the tear that spilled? The terror in blue eyes and how that small body
trembled, overwhelmed with emotions Dazai forced Chuuya to accept?
Was this really what he wanted?
He never meant to corner the Chibi like that, he never meant to say these things in such a
painful way.
…but it happened.
And the past can never be undone, not even by a kitsune.

"Ryuu, come here." Dazai doesn't need to raise his voice for the other to hear him, and the
boy slides the door to his room open in a matter of seconds, but doesn't step in. "Once the
human is done with the garden, he's free to go."
Maybe it's for the best, maybe whatever started to bloom between them was never meant to
be.
"Yes, Dazai–sama."
Chapter End Notes
Let the angst begin :') only a few chapters before we get out well-deserved fluff after it
I wonder how many readers knew Chuuya would have something to od with all these
deaths?
Not The End
Chapter Notes
Chuuya hasn't moved from his room for the whole day and hasn't accepted any food from the
siblings that tried to check up on him. They must have heard the conversation he had with
Dazai last night, they must know – about how he didn’t listen to them, about what he’s done.
It doesn’t seem like they’re angry, both Ryuu and Gin have tried to speak to him, but…
Closing his eyes and pretending he doesn't exist is better than having to face them, it’s easier.
So for the whole day and night Chuuya doesn't move, not until another day creeps on him
through the wooden panels – and that's when he knows, that’s when he understands how there
is only one path for him to take now.
He gets up, eats some leftovers he finds waiting for him and starts working. There's no point
in delaying it anymore, no point in pretending this could be something it isn't. He doesn't
have that much left to do, two days worth of constant working if he tries hard enough, though
he doubts Ryuu and Gin will let him. And as he’s working, his mind wonders to itself...
Will they miss him? Or do they hate him now?
Chuuya thought of the Akutagawa siblings as friends, they act like that, but they are Dazai's
servants, and if they decide that this time he's been too disrespectful…
Two days.
Or as fast as possible.
That's what he needs to focus on.
It'll keep his mind occupied, it'll tire him out enough to sleep through the night without
regrets and guilt suffocating him. Especially since, as expected, the fox doesn't come to
bother him – not when Chuuya tends to the garden, not when he’s eating, not ever.
Maybe he isn't even here, maybe he went somewhere again, it’s not like chuuya would know.
He doesn't need to know. Whether Dazai is here or not won't change anything, it won't erase
what happened or how it happened. Seeing the fox wouldn't ease the tightness in his chest, it
would probably only make it worse.
Because how can he bear to see the fox who once felt like a safe place but is now a stranger?
Or maybe they have always been just that and Chuuya was simply foolish to think
otherwise?
...but would a stranger's words really hurt this much?
Maybe not.
Or maybe yes.
Chuuya doesn't know, he doesn't want to know because it doesn't matter anymore—
"Break time?" Ryuu stands by the sliding door, holding a tray with some plates and cups,
and... smiling at Chuuya. Or at least trying to smile with his expressionless face. "You
shouldn't overwork yourself."
The redhead looks at him, eyes softening but trying hard to hide what lies behind them, the
sadness that has no right to be pitied, or shown for that matter. Not when he was the one to
bring it upon himself.
"...I'm not." He murmurs, never stopping his chores.
"Right." The boy looks around the garden before sitting down on the wooden floor. "Breaks
are still good, though."
They are and Chuuya is getting tired, but… "I need to finish this." For himself or for Dazai –
he isn’t sure.
"You don't have to rush it—"
"I know."
Ryuu sighs, but doesn't give up. "Sit with me, anyway? I want a short break and doing it by
myself doesn't feel right."
Chuuya knows it's not true, the boy loves being by himself and if not, he has his sister, but…
he's trying, and the sole fact that Ryuu’s making effort when he doesn’t have to makes the
redhead smile, if only a little.
"Just for a bit, yeah?" The redhead sits down next to the other boy, taking one cup filled with
tea and tasting the drink inside.
Ah… he's going to miss Gin's tea – she may be helpless in the kitchen but her brewing skills
are nothing short of perfect.
"You did a lot today." Ryuu says, pointing at the garden with his head.
"Yeah, I…” Chuuya glances at the rows of bushes he’s planted in the past week. “It's almost
done, so finishing it as quickly as possible feels… right."
And wrong at the same time, but he can't say that out loud. He won’t.
"I see." Ryuu stays quiet for a bit, even though his eyes look like he has much more to say.
"How long do you think it'll take?"
"Another day or two? If I push it enough."
"...can you make it longer?"

To be honest, Chuuya didn't expect to hear him say that. A part of him wished for these words
to be spoken, to give him some kind of a sign that he hasn't ruined everything, but he didn't
think Ryuu would actually say them. He didn’t believe there would still be something about
his life here that hasn’t crumbled yet, torn down by Chuuya’s own actions.
"I could but..." But no matter how he appreciates these words, he shouldn't do it. "I don't
think it's a good idea."
"Even a few days?"
"Ryuu, listen..." The redhead doesn't know what he means to say, but he can't just stay
somewhere he's not welcome anymore. It's not Ryuu's house it's Dazai's, they can't act as if it
was any different. "I really should go back. I've been here long enough already."
"A few more days won't make a difference then."
"Ryuu—"
"Only until the 10th." The boy cuts him off. "It's not that long and we'll have more time to..."
(Say goodbye?)
The boy frowns, looking into the swirling liquid in his cup and searching for an answer there.
It's true that it's only a few days, but every hour Chuuya spends on anything other than
working feels like eternity, and staying that much longer would mean a lot of free time.
"...why the 10th?" He asks quietly.
Ryuu sends him another shy smile–imitation (well, he's trying). "I told you about the Autumn
Festival, didn't I? The event itself is actually very nice."
Blue eyes widen when the meaning of what the other has just said settles in. "I can't, it's—"
"Gin wants to go with you." The boy says quickly and that's not fair, he knows Chuuya has a
soft spot for her. "And I do, too." Which is only slightly more surprising. Not the part about
wanting Chuuya to go with them, but the part where Ryuu actually admits it out loud.
"But I'm a human."
"Doesn't matter, there are always some humans around.” At a yōkai festival? “But if you're
worried, we can disguise you with a spell."
"Ryuu, that's—"
"Please?" Oh, oh that's even more unfair. "Think of it as a farewell party?"
Chuuya really shouldn't – it's dangerous and staying here for more than necessary isn’t only
going to be very awkward now, but also more painful later on, and he's trying to focus on his
work to make it hurt less, not more.
"I..." But a part of him still wants to hold on to what little of this life with the other two
(three?) he has left. "If there's enough to do in the garden, then I guess I can try..."
Gods, he's so stupid and desperate.
Ryuu’s shoulders relax at that, a soft sigh escaping the boy. "Thank you."
They don't speak much after that, only throwing some comments about the weather, about the
food and such. It's only when Chuuya gets up to continue his work that Ryuu says something
that, unintentional as it may be, makes everything hurt again.
"The clothes are still yours, you know. They always have been and always will be just for
you."
The redhead freezes, his throat dry and eyes threatening with burning wetness pooling in
them that Chuuya forces away. He looks down at himself, at his old, dirty kimono, at the
rough fabric scratching his skin.
Even if Ryuu tells him that, Chuuya doesn't have it in himself to believe it. He doesn't have it
in himself to be reminded of what has passed.
Because this material may be rough, but it's the other kimono that would hurt him more right
now.
If Chuuya was left to himself, he'd finish his job within two days – but, as it turns out, he isn't
alone.
Every day, Gin and Ryuu come to 'remind' him to take breaks, much longer ones than
actually necessary, or ask him to help with tasks that definitely do not need his attention. He
knows why they're doing this, a part of him is even glad about it, but there's a shadow lurking
in his mind, reminding Chuuya every time that it cannot last, that he has to finish what he's
meant to do. No later than by the 10th.
Only this time, the shadow isn't whispering to him, it isn't creeping into his thoughts with
vicious words and trying to break him apart. No, this shadow stays silent.
This shadow is the silence.
It takes the form of the emptiness filling Chuuya's days and nights, of this hole that was once
full of teasing comments and stupid nicknames and old stories Dazai used to tell. It’s always
there, always quiet in its everlasting torment.
It's scary how much the redhead got used to what wasn’t his to own, how fast he accepted
these talks with the kitsune as a part of his everyday life and how fond he grew of them,
making the silence more painful than it has even been before. There are Ryuu’s words that try
to fill it, there are Gin’s soft chuckles that try to warm up the empty hole in his heart, but…
He hasn't seen Dazai once since that night.
Apparently, he's here, or at least that's what the siblings told Chuuya, but it doesn't feel like it.
It's too quiet, too peaceful, too lonely, and all of that leaves him way too much time to think.
About what happened, about the words that were spoken and feelings that were hurt – it
leaves too much time for anger to ignite in Chuuya's chest, only for it to then turn into
sorrow, then into regret.
All of these emotions are tearing his soul apart, but the worst of it all is the overbearing
realisation that he can't even act on any of it. He can't even apologise.
Not when Dazai makes it clear that he doesn't want to see Chuuya.
Sure, the redhead knows which room is the kitsune's. He could try going there, but he doesn't
feel like it would be welcome anymore and he doesn't want to make things even worse than
they already are, if that's still possible.
Instead, the redhead bottles up every dark thought, every happy memory that now makes him
miserable, and makes his mind into a cage never to be opened.
It's not easy.
It's nowhere near easy, but it's the only thing Chuuya can do: keep the doors closed, ignore
the rattling of chains sealing his thoughts, throw the key away…
The problem is: the key never belonged to him.
Because Chuuya built this prison himself while forgetting that someone else placed the things
inside his mind in it. The redhead can force his mind blank and his heart closed, he can
accept the shadow that's tainting his soul—
But he can't stop the walls from crumbling when the faintest blow of air crashes his restraints
as Dazai walks past him without a word.
Was it intentional? Did he hear Chuuya walking down the hallway? Or was it just a
coincidence the fox didn't care about enough to avoid? Regardless of the answer, that gentle
blow of air, that quick glimpse of the black–blue kimono and white tails is what makes the
chains break.
Chuuya is frozen in place, wide eyes staring at the wooden wall in front of him as everything
falls apart around him. He's here, he was just here, he walked right in front of him and…
The redhead moves quickly, walking to the corner and looking after the fox he hasn't seen in
days.
"Dazai—"
The kitsune stops at the end of the hallway, but doesn't turn around or say anything. He only
looks over his shoulder to meet the blue eyes staring at him and… his eye is dark. Dark and
cold.
Chuuya's throat feels tight and dry, his lips parted but no sound escapes past them. There's too
much hiding in his heart, he doesn't know what to say or how to start, but he couldn't let the
other just walk away, not again.
He has to say something, he has to make Dazai stay.
"I..." His voice is weak, quiet. "Can we talk?"
The fox watches him without a word before slowly turning around to face Chuuya, his hands
hidden in the sleeves of his kimono.
No answer.
But he stayed.
...but what now? What can Chuuya say to make it better? To let the guilt slowly eating him
away be heard and believed?
"I'm sorry." It's not enough, that simple confession barely scrapes the mountain of what he
really wants to say but it's something, and it's honest.
...it's just not enough to make Dazai say anything back. Not a single word or even the faintest
of sounds.
"I… I'm sorry." Chuuya repeats, fighting with himself to keep his voice from trembling. "I
really am. I didn't mean to..." He feels the dark gaze piercing right through him and his eyes
want to look away and hide, but they can't.
"What are you sorry about?" Dazai asks, his words devoid of any warmth or emotion. "What
did you not mean?"
"I didn't mean to hurt you—"
"A human could never hurt me."
His words make Chuuya flinch, the hole in his heart widening at how detached Dazai sounds,
at how far away the fox feels despite being right here.
"...I know." But the redhead still believes there was hurt hiding behind the anger boiling in
the red eye back then, that no matter what Dazai says, Chuuya did cause him pain, in some
way. "What I want to say is..."
There's too much. Too much—
"...that I'm sorry."
—and when there’s too much going on, the outcome is never enough.
"You already said that."
Chuuya's lips are pressed into a thin line, frustration slowly creeping into his mind. He knows
one sorry isn't enough, but he's trying and Dazai is acting as if it meant nothing to him.
What else is he supposed to say?
He can't read the brunette's expression anymore, his tails are completely still and his ears
haven't moved at all. The kitsune looks like a stone figure – majestic and powerful, but cold
and lifeless at the same time.
"I know, but I want you to believe me—"
"Why should I?" Dazai cuts him off again. "Humans say many things while repeating the
same actions for years without end. Why should Chuuya be any different?"
The redhead flinches again at the sound of his name spoken like that again. He would always
be annoyed at the fox for calling him 'human', or 'chibi', or whatever else the other would use,
but hearing Dazai use his name in this icy, bitter voice makes Chuuya regret ever wanting for
that to happen. It makes him remember the first time the other called him that, how it rang
with resentment and disappointment and he swears there was hurt too. There must have been.
(And he doesn’t want to hear that ever again, he doesn’t want to remember. )
"Because I didn't lie." He says weakly, almost pleading.
"About you not being a murderer or about me being a monster ?"
The words are like sharp daggers piercing right through Chuuya's heart, clean cuts that make
him bleed with guilt instead of blood.
"No!" He shakes his head, hands fisted in the grey material of his kimono. "Before that. I
didn't lie when we were..."
Closer, kinder, not falling apart.
"...spending time together." He says instead.
Dazai looks unimpressed, he's still staring down at Chuuya with the same dark gaze that
hasn't warmed up at all, with the gaze that doesn't believe a single word. Or doesn't want to
believe, perhaps.
"What do you want to accomplish here?" Dazai asks eventually, not angry but… there’s no
emotion in him. "You've already said everything you wanted to."
"Dazai, please, I… I don't want to leave knowing that you hate me."
He won't ask to be liked, to be a friend, Chuuya realises he lost that chance, but even if it's
going to be something neutral, just a little —
'Don't hate me.' He repeats in his mind. 'Don't make these two months into a lie.'
After he leaves, Chuuya doesn't want to cling onto a memory that means nothing, he wants it
to stay warm, honest, happy, even if that happiness has already faded.
Just don't let it be a lie.
Just don't let it be worthless.
Dazai doesn't speak right away and the redhead lets himself hope it's a good sign, but...
"I hear you're going to the Festival tomorrow."
...he's never granted his relief, never granted an answer.
Is it because Dazai does hate him? Or is it because Chuuya isn't important enough to feel that
strongly about and the fox sees no point in answering?
"Yeah." His heart clenches, but he knows he can't force an answer out of the fox. "Will
you...?"
"No." It was to be expected, yet it still stings. But it's Dazai's next words that turn the sting
into a cut so deep it reaches his soul, tearing it into shreds. "This is the last time we see each
other."
Chuuya's heart stops, his eyes blown wide and breath catching in his throat.
"I'm leaving for a few days, and you'll be gone after the Festival. You've completed your
work, there's no need for you to stay any longer."
It's true, but it's wrong. They can't part their ways l ike this.
"But I—" He can wait, he can come back later, anything.
"Chuuya." The name rings loud and clear in the air, and terrifyingly cold in the redhead's
mind. "You don't belong here. Say your goodbyes to the Akutagawas and go back to your
world."
There's no hesitation, no doubt in what Dazai is saying, but Chuuya can't bring himself to
believe it.
//But if you wish to see the garden bloom, you can always come back when it's time.//
Why did it all go wrong?
The kitsune doesn't say anything else and Chuuya is frozen in place as he watches the other
turn around and walk away, disappearing once again from the redhead's life and leaving him
with a realisation that shatters his heart—
That's it.
That's the end.
And he doesn't hear the words Dazai murmurs as he walks away, he doesn't hear the quiet 'I
don't hate you' or 'I'm sorry' because the fox doesn't say these to be heard, he says them to
remind himself why he's doing this.
//Maybe whatever started to bloom between them was never meant to be.//
To keep the Chibi away, somewhere where Dazai won't make him cry anymore because after
all…
It's for the best, no matter how it hurts now.
(Oh, but how wrong both of them are. It's not the end of the story or the pain they’re destined
to face.)
Chapter End Notes
These :') two :') cannot :') into :') feelings :')
Though, this time it's more Dazai's fault, I guess, but still....
One Mistake
Chapter Notes
Wearing the kimono Dazai gave him feels… wrong.
It feels heavy on his mind and cold on his skin, but Gin insisted it'll be better for the festival
than his old clothes because there are protective spells woven into it.
Truthfully, Chuuya doesn't feel like going, he hasn't felt like doing anything since his
conversation with Dazai yesterday, but he'll go. He promised; the Festival is the only reason
he stayed here this long, and he does want to spend his last moments with the Akutagawa
siblings in a lighter mood than the gloom of his usual aura.
It's just hard not to think back.
It’s hard to be going to a place that is supposed to be fun, trying to enjoy his time when the
reality of it being the last time keeps looming over Chuuya, when Dazai’s words keep
repeating themselves in his mind. How they won’t see each other again, how the kitsune
doesn’t want to see him—
"Ready?"
Ryuu and Gin are standing by the main entrance when Chuuya finally leaves the residence
just as the Sun is about to set. They've spent the day eating together, talking, but this moment
has always been inevitable, no matter how much any of them would like the time to slow
down, or maybe even stop.
"Yeah." The redhead gives them a weak smile. "How are we going there?"
He isn’t sure where ‘there’ is, but he doubts it’s anywhere close.
"A teleportation spell." Ryuu explains, though the whole magic thing doesn't really make any
sense to Chuuya all that much, other than it can make life easier. "I can go anywhere I've
been before and the Festival is always in the same place."
"And it's fine for me...?"
"Yes. The spell won't harm you.” The other boy reassures him. “You would get lost in it if
you stepped inside without me though, so try not to do that."
Ah, so he won't get hurt, but can end up wandering inside some kind of a spell for gods know
how long if Ryuu lets go of him, by mistake or not. Great.
"I'll try my best." He mumbles as he steps closer to the siblings.

"Also…" Ryuu's voice turns more serious. It’s not enough to worry the redhead, but the
change in his tone makes it sound like it’s something important. "One more thing: do not give
anyone anything that belongs to you."
…that’s it?
Chuuya rolls his eyes at the other boy, spreading his arms in an exaggerated manner. "Do I
look like I have anything to give away?" The only possession he has on himself is the
kimono, which isn’t even his – at least it doesn’t feel his, not anymore – and giving away
one’s clothes in public sounds more than ridiculous.
Ryuu, however, doesn’t seem to be discouraged by the blatant mocking. "It can also be your
blood."
"What the fuck?"
"...or your name."
The redhead stares at the other boy with a confused and slightly wary expression. He won't
question it because Ryuu clearly knows more about these things than Chuuya, but…
Why would he ever give anyone his blood? Who does that? Is it a thing among demons?
"Sure." He says slowly. "So… no talking to others." Because he’s not going to introduce
himself as ‘human’.
"You can if you want to. Just 'Chuuya' is fine, but not the full name."
Right. Of course. It makes perfect sense now.
Sighing, Chuuya lets the matter drop. He doesn’t need to understand it, it’s not like he has
plans to be making friends there – he’s going to the Festival with the Akutagawas and he’ll
be spending his time with them.
But just as he’s about to ask about the spell, Ryuu moves a few steps away, extending his arm
in front of him until the sleeve of his kimono hangs low at his side and…
"What the...?"
Chuuya watches with narrowed eyes as a cloud of black smoke flows out of the boy's sleeve,
falling to the ground and, instead of disappearing, gathering into the shape of… a wolf pup?
With red eyes? It barely reaches Ryuu’s knees, its head tilted back to look at teh raven haired
boy and its tail wagging behind it.
"Even with Dazai–sama protective spells at the borders, we can't leave the residence
completely unguarded." Ryuu sounds like it's obvious and, maybe in a way, it is, but it doesn't
explain what exactly Chuuya is seeing right now.
"Sure, fine, but what is that? " He doesn't mean it in a bad or rude way, he's simply curious
because during his whole stay here he hasn’t seen anything like this.
The small smoke–wolf looks at him, red eyes shining brightly and warm, its tail speeding up
like Chuuya’s question made the pup want to play.
"My familiar, Rashoumon."
So… Ryuu, a wolf demon, has a familiar: a smoke–something wolf pup demon? And he
somehow never mentioned that, or the fact that it lives in his sleeve?
Chuuya looks at Gin with raised brows, a silent question in his eyes: 'do you have one, too?',
but the girl shakes her head with a small chuckle.
"He'll keep watch here while we're gone." As on command, Rashoumon jumps over them,
landing on the roof and disappearing from their sight. "Now we can go."
Chuuya tries not to look too bothered about discovering the fact that Ryuu keeps an actual
demon in his sleeve when the boy stretches his arm again, but as more black smoke flows out
of his clothes, the redhead can't stop his mind from being cautious.
Does he have more of them?
This time, however, the smoke doesn't form an animal's shape, it doesn't even stay on the
ground anymore. It's floating above it, swirling in the air and forming a dark circle almost the
size of a person, like an black cloud covering an oval mirror or a door…
Oh.
Oh, please don't tell him—
"...we're walking through that? "
"Obviously." Ryuu sounds way too nonchalant about it and Gin only pats Chuuya's shoulder
before stepping into the smoke, instantly disappearing and leaving the two of them alone
under the starry sky.
"It won't hurt." The wolf reassures him. "I promise. Just hold onto my sleeve." He offers his
arm to the redhead with a smile, nodding at Chuuya to grab it.
Reluctantly, the redhead curls his fingers around the hem of Ryuu’s sleeve, stepping closer to
stand next to him. "If I suffocate, it'll be your fault."
"You won't. " The boy snorts. "It won't last more than a second."
Chuuya doesn't really have any other choice than to believe Ryuu, not if he still wants to go
to the Festival with them. His eyes stare at the black circle in front of them, nose wrinkled in
an involuntary frown.
"We need to step through together." Ryuu reminds him.
"Sure."
"On three?"
"...sure."
The redhead sighs, mentally preparing himself for... something. He doesn't know for what
exactly, but he makes sure to hold his breath as Ryuu's count comes to 'three' and they take a
step forward to—
"Welcome! Welcome!"
"Hit the floating lantern and win a talisman!"
"Hot chestnuts! Straight from the abandoned dimension!"
—to be greeted with a cacophony of voices and music, of smells and colours exploding all
around them.
When Chuuya's eyes focus again, he sees countless stalls forming a labyrinth of paths and
people – well, most of them if not all are probably yōkai – walking around while laughing
and eating and playing all sorts of games.
Some of them have very distinct features, like wings or horns, some take the forms of
animals walking on two (or more ) feet, while others look... human. They may not necessarily
be ones, just like Ryuu and Gin aren't, but Chuuya can't tell the difference at all.
Wherever they are now, the sky is already dark and only the stalls and small floating fires
shine brightly around them, not a single star visible on the black canvas stretching above.
It's more lively than what Chuuya expected, more beautiful and much more normal. He's
never been to a festival before but, if not for all the different yōkai and slightly unusual
selling points at some stalls, the redhead would say that it could easily be compared to what
humans do during their celebrations, or to what Chuuya's heard about.
"It wasn't that scary, was it?" Ryuu's words bring the redhead back to reality. He blinks a few
times before looking up at the other and huffs.
"I was not scared." He was simply cautious, that’s only reasonable.
"Whatever you say."
Gin, who’s been standing next to them all this time, chuckles at that and Chuuya sends her a
pointed look. They have no right to be making fun of him for this, he's a human, he’d be
crazy not to be sceptical about using spells for the first time.
...but at least it does help with distracting his mind from less pleasant memories…
They start walking down the alley of colourful stalls, each with a sweet drink Gin bought
from one of the stands before the other two got here. It doesn't taste like anything Chuuya has
had before, but it's refreshing.
"Are all of these humans?" He asks eventually, looking around at the figures passing by them.
"No." Ryuu answers, glancing at where Chuuya is looking. "Some yōkai just don't like
showing their true forms and some of them are ghosts, so not humans anymore. "
Some are what now?
"But there are living humans around, too."
Chuuya won't ask, maybe he's better off not knowing too much. There’s a limit to how much
new information one should be taking in in the span of less than 30 minutes. "Is it normal for
them to know about all of this?"
People tell stories, of course, but there aren't many that actually believe it, not without a
reason. He wouldn't have believed it if it wasn't for the blue flames in the forest. And yet,
according to Ryuu, there are humans that not only know about the demon's world but also live
in, or at least visit, it? Feeling comfortable enough to come here and be surrounded by yōkai?
//You don't belong here.//
Is it even allowed? Is it something that can actually be true?
"Hm, it depends." Ryuu takes a sip of his drink, thinking about the answer. "We don't try to
hide our existence, it's just humans that tend not to believe in demons. But if you're asking
about them being here – the Festival – well, you do need a non–human to get here. I think
most of the humans that are here are servants to higher yōkai, or shinto priests that gained
gods' trust.”
Servants? Gods’ trust? So is it normal or not?
“Some may have yōkai blood in them, too."
That makes the blue eyes widen, all previous thoughts and questions already forgotten.
"Yōkai blood?" He asks. "As in...?"
"Descendants of a demon and a human, no matter from how long ago." Ryuu looks at the
redhead, his face somehow softening but in a way that's almost sad. "These kinds of
relationships happen, just... not often. "
Suddenly, Chuuya's chest feels tight.

So it is possible. To live together even if you’re from different worlds, to be together—
If you haven't lost your chance already, of course.
As if sensing his thoughts spiralling down, Gin points at a nearby stand with a sign 'Catch a
kappa!' floating above it, and drags the other two towards it. It's not enough to ease the pain
away from his mind, but it helps.
The games are a nice distraction and the siblings keep making Chuuya try the food sold
around the Festival. Some of it seems normal, maybe even familiar when it comes to shapes
and tastes, but there are also treats that sound concerning, even if the siblings claim they're
delicious and safe.
The redhead gives in sometimes – a thousand year old caramelised poison flower does turn
out to be quite good – but some dishes are just too bizarre, despite the boy believing himself
to be open–minded.
Like siren's eggs.
Chuuya is not trying these.
They're currently at a sweets stand when an unfamiliar voice calls out to them cheerfully.
"Ryuu–kun, Gin–chan~"
They turn around to see a young man, probably in his late twenties, with black hair and green
eyes, dressed in a light brown kimono walking towards them with a small plate in hand and
something that looks like dango on it.
Chuuya doesn't recognise the man at all, but the siblings seem to relax at the sight.
"Ranpo." Ryuu greets the newcomer. "Feeding only on sweets as always I see."
"Of course~" The man, Ranpo, muses before looking at the redhead. "And you must be
Chuuya–kun."
Chuuya's brows shoot up in surprise. He looks at Ryuu, confused as to why someone he

definitely doesn't know is calling him by his name. Someone the siblings are familiar with,
given how they allow the man to call them the way he does.
"When you were brought to the residence injured," Ryuu explains briefly. "we summoned a
doctor, Yosano–sensei, to treat you. Ranpo here is her... freeloader. "
"Hey!" The man sounds so dramatic, almost childish. "I help around the house and the clinic
too."
"He's also a human."
That part manages to surprise Chuuya even further. If Ranpo is a human, then he's much
younger than Ryuu and Gin, and yet, he calls them 'kun' and 'chan', and they're fine with it?
The redhead looks back at the man munching on his sweets and the grin that stretches on his
face tells Chuuya Ranpo knows exactly what the other is thinking, even if they’ve only just
met.
It’s… unusual, worrying in a way, but he doesn’t seem like a bad person.
"Okay..." Chuuya says slowly, pushing away all the questions threatening to give him a
headache later. "Yeah, I'm Chuuya. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise~" The man chirps. "Yosano–sensei said your case was pretty bad, so I'm glad
you're better now."
If almost dying can be considered ‘pretty bad’, then yes.
"I was given… something that helped a lot."
By Dazai, but Chuuya isn't going to think about it, it must have been this Yosano–sensei who
left it anyway. Though, his face still twists at the memory of the pain that followed.
"Oh." Ranpo's eyes widen, his smile faltering. "I'm sorry." And he actually does sound sorry,
as if he knows all too well what Chuuya is remembering.
Poor man probably drank it too at some point, didn't he?
"Is Yosano–sensei with you?" Ryuu asks.
"Nah, she's too busy. But she asked me to buy her something before I go back."
They move to the side of the stall and talk for a while – about the Festival, about this
Yosano–sensei Chuuya doesn't remember through the haze of pain from that day, and about
any other casual thing that comes to their minds.
Ranpo seems... nice. Very relaxed about pretty much anything and not worried about walking
around by himself in the slightest, despite being a human. Even if they've only just met,
Chuuya finds it comfortingly easy to talk to him. The man loves jokes, but there is a strong
aura of knowledge woven into his words and wisdom hiding behind the green eyes.
At some point, Ryuu and Gin leave them alone for a few minutes to go buy more drinks, but
it doesn't feel awkward, much to Chuuya’s surprise. The conversation continues, thought it’s
mostly Ranpo giving the redhead a lecture about all kinds of sweets they sell around here,
which are the best and which, apparently, aren’t sweet enough at all.
Only when they see the other two coming back, does Ranpo lean closer to Chuuya, looking
straight into blue eyes as he says in a low voice…
“You’re a good kid, Chuuya–kun.”
He’s an adult, though?
"But remember: you're human, you have to be very careful around here."
The redhead is stunned by the serious voice for a second but before he can ask why Ranpo
would say that to him, Ryuu and Gin join them again and the man leaves shortly after,
excusing himself to look for more snacks.
Chuuya doesn't know how long they walk around the Festival – the night is just as dark as
when they've just arrived. He can faintly feel himself getting tired with each stall they visit,
each game Gin drags them into, but…
At least for now, he's happy.
Happy to be able to enjoy all of this with Ryuu and Gin, happy to be able to talk to them as
always and allow himself to forget about how it's the last time he can do it. He won't let the
mood turn sour, he won't let this night be something sad.
At least this, he'll make into a happy memory.
…but he can't help the fact that the longer they walk around, the more tired he's getting. It’s
not only physical exhaustion, the last few days have taken a toll on his mind, making it much
easier for Chuuya to get lost in thoughts or lose track of his surroundings, or forget things. He
tries to hide it and he may have been doing a too good job at that, because the siblings don't
seem to notice.
And then, after Chuuya gets distracted by something and stops, he doesn't realise it before
turning back to the other two that—
"Ryuu?"
—he's alone.
"Gin?" He looks around, searching for his friends, but not finding them anywhere in the busy
crowd surrounding him. "Ry—?"
"Ouch!"
Something – someone – bumps into him with a quiet cry, and when Chuuya looks at the
stranger he sees... a child? A teenager?
"Sorry." The person, looking very much human, says from the ground. "I tripped."
"Oh, no, don't worry." The redhead says, kneeling down next to the boy. He doesn’t look any
older than 13, maybe 14. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I think so..." The other says, looking at his dirty clothes and legs. "But I think my
sandal's strap broke."
Chuuya looks at the boy's troubled expression and quickly watering eyes, and his face
softens. "Do you have anything to repair it with?"
"N–no." Comes a shaky answer. "I can tear my clothes but..." He’s clearly holding back a
sob, and the redhead can't help but pity the younger. He rolls up a sleeve of his kimono,
reaching for a ribbon tied around his wrist.
//Do not...//
He usually uses it to tie his hair up when it's getting in the way, but it's nothing Chuuya can't
easily replace.
"Here." He says to the boy that looks at him with glossy eyes. "Let me help you."
//...give anyone...//
"B–but, are you sure?"
"Yeah." Tiredness may be quickly taking over him, but Chuuya is still feeling well enough to
repair one sandal. He's done it for Shirase and Yuan countless times in the past because the
two never learnt to do it themselves. "It's no big deal."
//...anything...//
"Thank you." The boy's face lightens up when he stands up again after the redhead finishes
tying the ribbon around his sandal. He bows politely before running away and leaving
Chuuya by himself again.
He's tired, but a child's smile warmed his heart, even if only a little.
//...that belongs to you.//
(If only his mind was clear enough to remember some very simple words.)
//You have to be very careful around here.//

(If only his mind knew the consequences.)
"—Chuuya?" The redhead hears Ryuu calling out to him from behind. "Are you okay? You
disappeared suddenly."
"Ah, sorry." He shakes himself from the haze, his eyelids getting heavier by the second. "I
wasn't looking and then I lost you guys."
"Tired...?" Gin speaks softly and Chuuya sends her an apologetic smile.
"A little, I guess."
Ryuu strokes his arm, dark eyes searching the other’s face for an honest answer. "Do you
want to go back?"
"No, it's fine." He doesn't want to go back, doesn't want this night to end. Not yet. "Let's stay
a bit longer." And when the siblings look at each other with concern, he adds: "Please?" He
knows they won’t be able to reject him when he’s like this. Not today.
As they start walking again, slower this time, Chuuya thinks about the boy he's just met, his
mind coming back to the smaller figure one last time. To his reddish hair, the cross–shaped
scar on his cheek.
…the necklace with a shining red jewel hanging from his neck…
Ah, that kid had a such a kind smile.
Once Chuuya opens the door and walks out, this won't be his room anymore.
This won't be his futon, even though he's the only one who has ever used it. This won't be his
stack of books, even though they kept him company for many nights. This won't be his home
anymore. If it ever truly was.
The last night he was allowed to stay in these familiar–by–now walls has come to an end.
The morning woke him up earlier than usual, letting the redhead come to terms with how fast
the time can flow and…
Chuuya is ready to leave.
Even if he isn't.
He's standing by the sliding door with one hand on the too–cold wood and looking at the
small space one last time. He tried to leave it as clean as possible, he placed all the books in a
neat row, folded the futon and the five kimonos left on top of it.
Everything that isn't his stays as he goes.
Everything that Chuuya doesn't feel is his stays.
That's just how this world works, that's just how things are supposed to be. He isn't the one
who set these rules and he's not the one to change them. The only thing that Chuuya can do is
hope.
Hope that, one day, he'll learn to live with the present that's become his past.
He takes a deep breath and slowly turns away from the sight that he burnt into his memory.
He slides the door open and doesn't look back anymore.
Walking down the hallway feels longer than ever and shorter than a second at the same time,
every step echoing in the residence as Chuuya moves without a word. There's one more door
he needs to cross, one more obstacle his mind has to overcome. He stops for a moment by the
wall facing the entrance and…
Just like he thought, the deep scratches from Dazai's nails are still clearly visible there.
There's even dried blood still on the wood, probably because Chuuya was the only one who
would actually clean around the house.
But, well, that's not his job anymore, is it?
None of it is his job once he steps outside.
…and that's exactly what he does.
Fresh air fills his lungs as sunlight hits his skin, but all of it feels like the world is laughing at
him, letting the most beautiful day of September yet be the one he'll remember as the darkest.
The world must really hate him, huh?
"You're up early."
Ryuu and Gin are standing outside, most likely waiting for the redhead, who somehow
manages to send them a smile, even if his soul is slowly forgetting what a smile is supposed
to feel like.
“It's almost noon." Chuuya answers.
"That's still early.” Ryuu argues. “Are you sure you don't want to sleep some more?"
"I'm sure, Ryuu." A sigh. "The end result will be the same, no matter how long I sleep."
Gin sends him a warm smile, but it doesn't fully reach her eyes, while her brother looks
Chuuya over. "...did you take everything?"
Yes, all of his possessions: two, old kimonos.
"Yes.” Chuuya simply replies, not meeting the other’s gaze. “I did."
Gin offers him a small package and, by the smell, Chuuya can tell it's filled with tea leaves.
"Thank you." He says, though he probably won't be able to brew it as good as she does. "You
guys don't have to walk me back, you know?"
"Oh no, we definitely do." Ryuu says quickly. "Safety measures, or something."
The comment makes Chuuya chuckle sadly. "Or something, huh?” The black haired boy
always appears cold and stoic, but his actions show all the care he has in his heart. “Fine."
But when the redhead starts walking towards the forest, he hears Ryuu coughing behind him
and feels Gin tugging his sleeve. He turns around with a raised brow and sees both siblings
pointing to the side.
"...It's that way, actually."
Chuuya narrows his eyes at that. He knows the direction and he knows it's not where Ryuu
and Gin are trying to take him. "That way?"
"Yeah." Ryuu tries to sound nonchalant. "That way."
The redhead looks between the two, sees their expressions and how their hands are playing
with their clothes, and it makes him smile to himself, a spark of appreciation sparking in his
chest as he nods.
"Okay." He says softly. "Let's go there."
He's going back to the village, he is, but he doesn't have to go straight back, right? As long as
he gets here today, the time doesn't matter, does it? And if it takes a bit longer, it's not his
fault, it's the Akutagawas', so it's fine.
Besides, what can a couple of hours change anyway?
(In hindsight, he'll realise they can change everything. )
Of course, the way the siblings take him is not the path to Chuuya's village, it's not even a
slightly longer one. They walk in every direction but that of the village, and all of them know
it. It's only when the Sun is slowly starting to set for the day that they know they can’t
postpone the inevitable any longer.
They dragged it out as much as they could but, eventually… Ryuu and Gin are standing by
the small fox statue, behind the line of blue flames and—
Chuuya stands on the other side of it.
"So..." Ryuu says slowly. "Visit sometime?"
The redhead smiles, but there's no warmth behind it anymore. He appreciates it and he knows
the boy means it, he knows the offer isn’t just empty words, but…
"Thank you for taking care of me." Chuuya says instead. "Thank you for the tea leaves." He
adds, looking at Gin.
The girl reaches out to him, rubbing his arm gently. "We'll miss you."
"We're always here." Her brother speaks again. "If you need anything—"
"I know." But this is a goodbye. "Thank you."
For everything.
Chuuya bows slightly before turning away from the two, a show of gratitude for helping him
heal, for being there during his breaks and always drinking tea with him, but it's enough now.
They've done more than enough.
It's time for him to go back to where he belongs.
It's a familiar path, familiar grass under his feet and familiar trees all around – it just doesn't
feel the same as it once used to. It's more empty, less welcoming.
But it leads home.
It leads to this old, small hut that Chuuya grew up in, a place where he spent most of his life
and where he'll probably live the rest of it. Nothing has changed in the last two months, only
a thin layer of dust settled on the floor, but other than that it's still the same. It's full of
memories, full of who Chuuya is and—
It's empty.
Because there is only one person living here, only one person breathing in the air that smells
of ink and listening to the floor creaking under their feet.
One human to light up the fireplace.
One boy to lie down on the old futon.
One Chuuya to listen to his own cries.
It doesn't come right away, it waits for the realisation to settle in and for the coldness of the
night to wrap around his body and mind. That's when it starts.
A lone tear he can't keep from falling down, one shaky breath he tries to muffle in the pillow.
The first sob. The one crack that makes the high walls Chuuya's been hiding behind fall apart.
The rest simply follows.
The tears, the screams, the pain and the truth ... All of it tires him out, lulls him to sleep,
waiting for the darkness of his dreamless night to swallow his sorrows.
Chapter End Notes
If you recognised the boy Chuuya helped... I know and I'm sorry
Also, please don't blame the Akutagawas, they did the best they could and they DID
warn him :')
Also again, please remember the tags for this story are there for a reason!
Realisation
Chapter Notes
Once a new day comes, Chuuya is still alone.
But at least he's calmer now.
His eyes sting, his face burns from last night's tears, but it's dry now. His throat is hoarse, his
voice comes out raspy and even swallowing feels uncomfortable, but… all of this is a price
he had to pay to let the past stay in the past, to let his feelings out before they suffocate him.
He has a life to go back to, works to finish, people to greet and a village to see. This is where
he belongs.
It's the same routine as before: clean himself, change into a daytime kimono, take his bag and
coins, and go out. It's past noon, so the village has been awake for many hours now, the
streets are full of younger children running around and teenagers running errands for their
parents. They greet him as before, some ask if he's better now, some ask what made him
bedridden for such a long time while the redhead simply laughs and tells them a made up
story about how it was a string of several things.
A cold, a stomach bug – anything he can come up with.
No one questions him, they have no reason to. Even if Gin’s spell has been broken the
moment he stepped into the village, everyone should still believe that he was just sick all this
time.
Chuuya visits his clients to apologise for the delays in his work, telling them how he'll make
sure to finish everything as soon as possible and they understand. They're nice people, no
matter what rumours may still be circulating about him out there.
The flower stall grandma is the one who talks to him the longest. She asks how he's feeling,
how he needs to rest and not overwork himself, how her granddaughters were so worried…
"Here, take some flowers." She says, handing Chuuya a basket full of chrysanths. "They may
not help with curing your body, but flowers are good for the mind, and these ones symbolise
joy and optimism, something that helps your spirit grow healthier."
"Thank you, Ino–san." Chuuya answers with a polite smile. "But I'm fine now, really."
"Oh, you youngsters like to underestimate your elders, don't you? My eyes may not be as
good as when I was your age, but they still work and they see how you look." She crosses her
arms, looking up at Chuuya with serious eyes. "You look terrible, boy. Cute as always, but
not fine."
The words make Chuuya's heart tighten as he swallows a lump in his throat.
Is it that obvious?
"...thank you." He says again, bowing before the woman, choosing not to engage in an
argument he clearly won’t win.
"You understand? Good, good. I'm still young at heart, you know!"
"Of course I know, Ino–san.” A small chuckle escapes the redhead. “I'm sure you're younger
at heart than I am."
"Because you worry too much, Chuuya!" The woman sighs at him, her hand now resting on
her hips as she shakes her head. "Young people are meant to be carefree. You'll have more
than enough time to worry once you're old and wrinkled."
"I'll keep that in mind." He chuckles again, more than to make the woman relax a bit than
anything else. "I appreciate the flowers, and I'll come by tomorrow as well."
"You better, now, off you go!"
Chuuya is already turning around when she calls out to him again.
"Ah... wait, wait.” The woman’s voice sounds understanding but tired at the same time, like
it’s not the first time she says this. “One more thing. I get that you're friends and all, but can
you please tell Yuan and that little troublemaker Shirase to go home?"
…what?
"That girl's mom was really worried when she didn't come back last night. I told her they said
they were going to visit you yesterday, so she calmed down a little, but she's a single mother,
at least tell her about it if Yuan is staying at your place."
... they what?
"What time was that?" Chuuya doesn't know why, but his blood suddenly turns cold. "When
did they…?"
"Oh my, were you still that sick yesterday, boy?" Ino–san looks at him with more concern,
furrowing her brows. "They passed by here right before noon, so it's been more than a full
day by now." But once a new customer comes, she simply waves her hand at him before
turning away. "Just tell them to talk to their parents."
Chuuya stands there with wide eyes, not sure what is going on or what he’s supposed to think
about what Ino–san has just told him. They went to visit him? But they shouldn't be able to
even think about that idea unless…
Oh, now that he thinks about it, Gin has been around all the time for the past few days, she
probably didn't renew the spell before they went to the Festival, however...
Chuuya hasn't seen Shirase or Yuan, and there was nothing of theirs at his house either, so
they couldn’t have been there before he came back. But if they're not there, then where...?
His body is stiff as he starts walking home, mind swirling with thoughts of different
possibilities and there's this itching in the back of his head he can’t explain. It’s faint, but it’s
definitely there, like a memory or an idea he should remember, but can’t.
(...do not give anyone anything that belongs to you...)
Maybe the spell was somehow still working and they went somewhere else? LIke a day trip
down the river or into the safe side of the forest? But why wouldn't they come back, in that
case?
They couldn't have gotten lost, they spent their whole life in this area and the path to
Chuuya's hut is very simple. Is it one of Shirase's pranks again? But Yuan, as much as she
loves teasing her boyfriend, isn’t someone who would leave for a full day without telling her
mother. She knows how much her mom would worry.
If they had stopped by his place yesterday, they would have left something for Chuuya to let
him know about it, or waited for him. But they weren't there when he came back and the
place was dusted all around, no traces of anyone being inside for a while, so… Why? How?
Before the redhead realises it, he's already at his doorstep. He reaches out to open the door
and the sleeve of his kimono slides up with the movement, revealing…
(...do not give anyone anything that belongs to you...do not give anyone anything that belongs
to you...do not give anyone anything that belongs to you...)
The basket of flowers Ino–san gave him falls to the ground.
//It's no big deal.//
...a naked wrist.
No.
No, no, no, no, no—
It can't be that. It's not possible. There must be another explanation.
//You have to be very careful around here.//
" NO! " Chuuya drops everything and starts running towards the forest he thought he'd never
visit again, careful not to trip but not really looking at where he’s going. He lets his own legs
lead him to where he needs to go. "Ryuu?! Gin?!" The redhead shouts as he crosses the blue
boundary. "Ry—!"
"Chuuya?" The Akutagawa siblings suddenly appear in front of him, coming out of the black
smoke. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm—" His breathing is erratic, both from running and from fear, blue eyes frantically
looking between the two. "I—I need help, please —"
"It's okay." Ryuu tries to calm him down, but his dark gaze is full of worry. "Just tell us
what's going on."
"It's not— it's not okay." Chuuya tries to speak. "It's Shirase and Yuan, they—" He can't find
the right words, doesn't know where to start, they don’t have the time to talk right now, but he
has to explain somehow.
"You're friends? What about them? Are they hurt?"
"Yes!" But he quickly shakes his head. "No. I don't know. " And that single truth, that
uncertainty scares him, it makes his body shake with panic.
"Chuuya." This time, it's Gin who tries to help him catch his breath. "Calm down. We're
here."
But he can't calm down, not when his friends may be in danger because of him.
"I—They're missing." The redhead starts explaining, still putting everything together in his
mind. "They tried to—to visit me yesterday but never came back. It's—it's been more than a
day--"
A day of no signs of life.
A day to get hurt.
A day to—
"Are you sure they didn't leave any notes?" Ryuu tries to ask, but his brows are still furrowed
and his eyes focused. "That they didn't just go on a trip?"
"Yes!" Chuuya almost cries out. "I—I think they're in danger."
Because of him, because of him, oh gods, it's because of him —
"Why?" The other boy nudges.
"I—" The redhead tries to swallow the lump in his throat but it only grows bigger, the
tightness in his chest holding his voice back. "I did something. I—I didn't mean to, I was
tired and I forgot—"
"Chuuya, please, breathe. " Ryuu says slowly but firmly. "We're going to help you, I promise,
but we need to know what happened and you’re not making any sense right now."
Right, right. They’re here, they can help, they said they would.
The redhead takes a deep breath, his body shaking but forcing his words out.
"When we were at the Festival and I lost you guys for a moment, there— there was this child,
a boy, he bumped into me and— and his sandal's strap broke so I helped him. I—" He shakes
his head. "I know you told me not to, but I was tired, I wasn't thinking and—"
Ryuu's eyes widen. "Did you...?"
"---I used my ribbon to help him repair it." Chuuya cries out, tears now rolling down his face
freely. "I know I shouldn't have, I know, I was just—"
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID.
"What did he look like?" Ryuu grabs him by the arms, steading his body and looking Chuuya
right in the eyes. His voice is tense but calm. "The boy?"
"H—he had red hair, I think?" He tries to remember, but it was dark and he was so —
No.
Chuuya has to remember.
"He looked young a—and like a human, and he had a scar on his cheek and—"
What else? What else? There was something else, something that didn't quite match…
"He was dressed like— like a normal kid? His kimono looked old and dirty and—"
…something that looked strange on a boy who looked poor. A detail so out of place Chuuya
should have questioned himself.
"---he had a necklace. With a red jewel. It—it looked expensive."
That makes Ryuu's eyes widen more than ever before, his body stilling momentarily, just like
Gin's, and Chuuya feels his stomach dropping. The siblings look at each other, an exchange
the redhead can't hear or understand, but he can feel it’s nothing good.
"Gin, go get Dazai–sama.” Ryuu speaks up. “He didn't say where he's meeting with Oda–
sama and Ango–san, so you'll have to check all of their spots. Quickly. "
"What—?" Chuuya wants to ask about what they seem to know, but the girl disappears in a
cloud of black smoke instantly, leaving only the two of them alone. "Ryuu?"
"We need to go." The boy says quickly, Rashoumon already flowing out of his sleeve as Ryuu
pulls Chuuya in the direction of the redhead's hut. "You said they went to visit you, right?"
"Y–-yes." The other breaths out, trying to keep up. "What is going on? Was that boy
dangerous?"
They pass the blue flames line, not stopping for even a second.
"No, it's not about the boy." Ryuu says without slowing down. "It's about his master, Ace. He
is dangerous, and he loathes Dazai–sama."
"Dazai?" Chuuya chokes. "But what does he have to do with—"
"Ace probably spotted you with us at the Festival, sent one of his slaves to get something of
yours to get to you because Daza–sama has never had any humans around and he thought he
could hurt him this way."
"B–but—" Talking and running at the same time is difficult, but his curiosity is stronger. And
his concern only amplifies it. "But I'm fine, so why—"
"Your ribbon had your scent on it." Ryuu says. "But Dazai–sama territory is protected by
spells much stronger than whatever power Ace may hold within himself, he would never be
able to sense you while you were here. It must have led him to your hut instead."
They finally reach Chuuya's house. The redhead is panting, his mind is overflowing with
information and emotions, while Ryuu looks around.
"They were definitely here." He says after taking a deep inhale. "I can smell them."
"Ace and that boy?"

"No." Comes a quick answer. "Ace never does the heavy work himself and his slaves are
artificial beings powered by the jewels on their bodies, they don't leave any scents behind. I
can smell your friends. "
"Are they okay?! Can you find them?"
"I can follow the trail, but..." Ryuu looks at Chuuya apologetically. "I can't know if they're
fine now just from the smell they left yesterday. "
New tears start filling the blue eyes, but the redhead brushes them away with the sleeves of
his kimono. He can't be breaking down now, Shirase and Yuan need him, he has to save them.
"Let's go, then." He says.
"Chuuya, I..." The other boy hesitates. "I think you should stay here and let me go alone."
"What? No!"
"It's dangerous. " Ryuu tries to reason. "And I can't just use a spell to find them, I actually
need to follow the scent—"
"Ryuu, I'm going! " The redhead comes closer tugging at the other's clothes. "Please, they are
my friends."
"I know, and I'll bring them back, Chuuya—"
" Please! " He almost shouts, but his voice is breaking down. "I have to go, I beg you… Let
me help them."
Ryuu looks at him with concern, quickly calculating all the risks in his head. "Okay. But you
have to stay close to me at all times."
Chuuya doesn’t relax, but he nods. "I will."
"Good. Right." The black–haired boy grabs Chuuya's hands, gently pushing them away.
"Now, step back a little."
"Huh?" The redhead's brows furrow. "Why?"
Ryuu smirks at him, his tone slightly lighter now but just as serious. "You're a fast runner for
a human, but I can be much faster."
Before Chuuya can ask what he means, black smoke starts swirling around the other boy,
making the redhead scared that he's going to leave without him, but—
He doesn't.
Ryuu is still here, just... different. Much different.

He's not in his human form, he isn't similar to Dazai with his ears and tails, no, he's in his
full, huge black wolf form. With long dark fur, only turning white at the ends of his ears, and
he's still taller than Chuuya, which the redhead will be annoyed about later.
"Get on." A voice rings from the wolf, Ryuu's voice, even if the wolf's mouth doesn't move.
He lies down on the ground to make it easier for the boy to climb his back, still and patiently
waiting for Chuuya to come closer.
It's crazy, it's scary.
But Chuuya can't hesitate.
He has to find his friends, no matter the cost or anxiety about riding on an ōkami's back. He
climbs Ryuu quickly but almost falls off them the wolf stands up suddenly
"Hold on to my fur." Rings again. " Tight. "
Chuuya follows the command, leaning forward to press himself against the huge body,
wrapping his arms around the wolf's neck and gripping at his fur. And he's glad he did that,
because once Ryuu feels him close and steady.
The wolf leaps forward.
—a day ago—
"Well, you two are not who I expected, but you were at the right place, so..." Ace grins,
showing sharp teeth full of poison hidden behind his lips. "...I think I'll get what I want either
way."
Yuan stares at him from the cold, stone ground, her wrists and ankles are tied, and there's
some material covering her mouth, making it impossible to say anything. She doesn't know
what's happening. She was knocking at Chuuya's door, Shirase by her side, when everything
went black and then she woke up…
She was here. Tied and confused.
Inside something that feels like a cave – cold, dark and damp – with this person just standing
there and smiling at them.
At them, because Shirase is also here. He's chained to the wall on the other side of wherever
the fuck they are, but with nothing covering his mouth.
"Now." Ace walks to him, playing with a red ribbon in his hand. "Tell me about the owner of
this thing." He holds the material in front of Shirase's face, but the boy only shakes his head.
"Where are we? Who are y—"
SLAP!
"Mnghh—!" Yuan tries to shout, but her words are muffled. She can see her partner's face
thrown to the side, long red claw scratches on his cheek.
"You don't ask questions here, human, I do. Now, tell me about the owner. "
"I—" The boy shivers as he looks at the ribbon. "I don't know, man, it—it's just a ribbon, I—
I don't know who—"
SLAP!
Pain shoots through Shirase's other cheek and Yuan cries out again, tears pooling in her eyes.
"Yes, you do know." Ace speaks slowly. "You were both at his house."
It takes a second for the boy's mind to focus again.
His house...? What is he...?
Grey eyes widen when realisation sinks in, about where they were before they woke up here,
about who this crazy person is asking.
"That's right." The man over him grins again. "That's the one. Tell me. "
Why is this man asking about Chuuya? Who is he? What is he going to do? Is Chuuya in
trouble? What does he do?
"I—" There's blood in his mouth, but Shirase's throat still feels dry, his heart beating faster by
the second. "I don't know."
Whatever this is about, he can't betray his friend.
He won't.
"Hm." Claws dig into his skin when the man grabs his face. "You're lying, human, and you
better stop or..."
Shirase tries to fight against the hold, but it's futile, and his heart stops at Ace’s next words.
"...I'll try with the girl. "
—present time—
"You're distracted."
Dazai looks up from his cup and the swirling liquid inside, arching a brow at his friend as a
lazy smirk stretches on his face. "What makes you say that?"
They're at the top of a mountain on an island long abandoned by other yōkai and never yet
discovered by humans. A place where they can meet in peace and enjoy the quietness of
wildlife growing all around them.
"You've been more quiet than usual." A man with dark hair answers.
Ah, hod rude. "Maybe I'm trying to be a good listener~"
"Dazai." The other says. " That's what's suspicious."
The kitsune huffs at his friend and rolls his eye. The comment isn't anything he hasn't already
realised himself, but Odasaku is supposed to be the nice one out of the three of them and
that's more like something Ango would say.
"And you've drunk less than usual."
Ah, there it is. Harsh words of the tanuki with glasses that doesn't even like sake and, yet,
judges Dazai for his preferences.
"If you want to drink my share, you can just ask, Ango~" The fox muses, smirking at his
friends and leaning back against the tree. "I'm just trying to enjoy the weather."
" The weather? " Odasaku repeats with raised brows.
"Yep~"
"..." The redhead and Ango look at each other, each with a different type of concern in their
eyes that Dazai pretends not to see.
He didn't come here to be interrogated, he came here to… to rest. That's it. And he doesn't
need to drink or talk to do that. He's not sure how long they've been here; when you live for
hundreds of years you stop counting days, but it's not like there's any pressure for him to go
back.
Ryuu and Gin can take care of the residence just fine, and Chu—
Ah, nevermind.
"And that's the only reason why you invited us here?" Odasaku asks, doubt clear in his voice.
"During the Autumn Festival?"
Dazai hums, not bothering about giving them an answer his friends would know isn't true
anyway. He just closes his eyes and focuses on the cold wind on his skin. "There will be
another one next year."
Ango sighs and adjusts his glasses, tanuki ears he never bothers to hide flat on his head.
"That's not the issue here."
"Then there's no issue." The fox says briefly.
"Dazai." The redhead tries again. "if there's something bothering you, you can always talk to
us."
"Aw, you're such a good friend, Odasaku." The kitsune muses, lips curled up. "But I'm fine~"
He's fine. He's calm. There is nothing wrong. Dazai is relaxed—
"So this isn't about the human you've been..."
—until one of his tails shoots straight for Ango's throat, only to be caught by Odasaku's hand
a fraction of a second before it pierce's the tanuki's skin and flesh.
"Dazai." The redhead says firmly. " Calm down. "
The kitsune narrows his eye at him, slowly retracting his tail and looking between the two
friends. Ango, though, doesn't seem bothered by the commotion at all, he probably trusts
Odasaku to stop any attack the fox may still try.
He clears his throat. "As I was saying, so this has nothing to do with the human who's been
living with you lately?"
Dazai stares at him and he can feel Odasaku's gaze closely watching his tails for any signs of
another attempt. "How do you know about that?" He hisses.
"I told him." The redhead answers instead.
"And how do you know, huh?"
Dark eye is already shining bright with red, Dazai's tails swaying dangerously. He hasn't told
anyone about the Chibi and even if he trusts his friends, they shouldn't know that bit.
"I heard about your problems with an army of humans a while ago, so I went to check up on
you and felt the human's presence." Odasaku explains. "And they seemed to be willingly
staying with you."
"How nice of you, Odasaku." Dazai says with a smile that doesn't reach his eye, voice cold.
"But I can handle myself. And I guess I'll have to put a stronger spell around my private
house now.."
The redhead looks apologetic, his voice softer now as he speaks. "I didn't plan on it and I
stayed away when I saw you were doing fine."
"How thoughtful. " A sigh. "Well, it doesn't matter." The fox says, leaning back again and
trying to sound nonchalant. "The human is probably gone by now."
Even if the Akutagawa siblings tried to make him stay longer, which Dazi is sure of, he told
Chuuya he's free to go back after the Festival – he made it clear that the boy should go back.
But his friends don't know that and only look at him with questions in their eyes.
"What do you mean by 'probably'?"
"I'm here, so I can't be sure, but he was meant to go back to his village after the Festival."
Dazai shrugs. "I'm assuming he won't be there when I return."
Odasaku's brows shoot up. "He wouldn't wait for you to say goodbye before he goes?"
Well... In a way, they already said their goodbyes. In a very, very bad way, but it was the only
option Dazai was capable of, the only option that made sense.
"No, he wouldn't."
"That's unusual for someone who, as far as I'm told, felt comfortable in your house." Ango
adds.
"He's a human." The fox simply states. "Humans are never truly comfortable around
demons."
"But—"
" Stop it. " Dazai's voice turns freezing cold, something his friends know very well from his
old days. "I told him to go."
Silence stretches between them as all three of them look at each other – Ango's eyes are
confused, Odasaku's concerned and Dazai's eye…
It's empty.
And it's hiding something behind that emptiness.
"Dazai..." The redhead is the first one to speak again. "Did something happen?"
The question makes the kitsune snort, his teasing tone coming back even if it’s forced. "I
fought an army, but you already know that much, right~"
Both of his friends sigh at that.
"That's not what I meant. Did something happen with the human?"
"No."
"Then why did you tell him to go back?"
"Because he's a human? " Dazai says. "And humans should live among humans."
They shouldn't live with demons that they hate , demons that scare and hurt them, demons
that make them cry.
"But shouldn't you be there to see him off?" Ango asks and Odasaku nods in agreement.
The answer is quick and short. "No."

"Why?"
If the fox didn't like his friends and this island, he would burn it down the moment that
question rolled out of the redhead's mouth.
‘Why?’ What does he mean by 'why'?
Because Dazai has no reason to be there to see Chuuya off. Because he has no right to do
that, not after everything that's happened, everything the fox has done and after everything
the human said. Because it would only deepen the wound that opened in his soul when he
saw the Chibi cry, when he saw him terrified and when he heard him try to apologise only for
Dazai to hurt him more.
They were both hurt, in different ways, and Chuuya’s words may have tried to make it better,
but they weren’t enough. Not back then, not when Dazai couldn’t believe him quite yet.
But he can't say that.
He can't explain all of that to his friends when he doesn't understand why it hurt in the first
place. Why it's so complicated.
They can ask all they want, but the kitsune won't have the answer.
Should he say it's because he doesn't care? Should he say it's because that's what's better for
Chuuya? That he's trying to protect the Chibi from him?
Because he's angry? Because he's sad?
…is he, though?
Can Dazai really contain his feelings into such simple words? Are these what he's actually
feeling or is it a side effect of living with a human?
All these questions don't have answers to them.
All his answers always change when he's trying to think about them.
When he summoned Ryuu back then, it was because he didn't want to see the Chibi anymore.
When he stayed in his room for the days that followed, it was so that Chuuya wouldn't feel
trapped by his presence and because he himself needed time to and space to breathe. When
he told the human he should go, it was to set him free, and when Dazai decided to stay away
…
"...because I wouldn't want to let him go."
Ah, are these his mouth's words or his heart's whispers?
"Wha—"
" Dazai–sama! "

All three of them look in the direction of Gin's voice. The girl is running towards them,
breathing heavily.
"Gin?" Dazai looks at her, confused. She's not the one to raise her voice like that, she barely
even speaks at all. And why is she here, anyway? He didn't tell the Akutagawa siblings where
he was going exactly because he didn't want them to disturb his time away.
But the closer she gets, the more distrubed the kitsune gets.
Something is wrong. Gin isn't supposed to look this worried.
Dazai puts his cup down and stands up, eyeing the girl's expression. "What happened?"
Gin stops right in front of him, not caring about bowing to Odasaku or Ango which already
speaks volumes, and then—
"It's— it's Chuuya. "
Chapter End Notes
The next chapter will cover my poor attempts at writing action scenes and it’ll get heavy
too, so… just remember the tags are there for a reason :’)
The Day Karma Comes Back
Chapter Notes
Chuuya isn't sure how long it took Ryuu to finally come to a stop. Every second was
dragging out with the looming fear that they would be too late but, at the same time, the
scenery was constantly changing and they moved so fast, the redhead was sure he’d fall
anytime—
"It's here." Rings the familiar voice and Chuuya carefully slides off of the wolf's back when
the demon lies down.
His head is still spinning and he almost falls down with how numb his legs are, but he
catches himself on a nearby tree just in time. Looking around, Chuuya sees an entrance to a
dark cave with two human, or human– shaped, guards standing by it, each with a bright jewel
hanging from their necks and weapons in hand.
"Are they...?"
"Ace's slaves." Ryuu, now in his usual form, whispers as he pulls Chuuya to hide behind the
tree so they wouldn’t be noticed too soon. "They won't be a problem."
The other boy nods slowly, eyes set on the darkness that imprisons his friends. There’s no
light coming from inside the cave, but if his friends’ scents led them this far…
"Stay here, it won't take long." Ryuu starts to move away, but he turns to Chuuya one more
time just as he’s about to step out of the cover of the trees.. "And remember, they are not
humans."
He knows, his mind knows it.
But it doesn't stop his body from flinching and hands from squeezing tight when he sees the
other appearing in a cloud of black smoke before the first guard and tearing their throat out
with long claws. Red liquid, terrifyingly similar to blood, splashes everywhere for a second
before the lifeless body falls to the ground and turns into ash to be swept away by the wind.
The second guard's fate isn't any different, and even the three new people running out of the
cave to help him can't change that.
Within a few seconds, there are five piles of ashes on the ground around Ryuu, each with a
bright jewel lying on top of it. No bodies, no more blood, just… dust.
"It's fine now." The boy says while facing Chuuya's direction and cleaning himself from the
dust on his clothes and skin.
The redhead takes a deep breath before stepping forward and running up to the other without
hesitating. "What about the jewels?" He asks, warily eyeing the shiny stones.
"We'll destroy them later. If we do it now, Ace will feel it immediately and he'll know we're
here."
"Can you fight him?" Chuuya speaks more quietly now as they enter the cave. It's much
colder than on the outside, pitch black and with only the sound of water drops falling down
on the hard ground echoing between the walls.
"Just Ace?” Ryuu snorts. “Yeah, I can."
"Then why—"
Chuuya can't see much, but he recognises Ryuu's arm around him when the boy moves him to
the side and kills another guard. How are they seeing in this darkness? How is Ryuu seeing
anything or anyone?
"Why…" The redhead starts again when it's safe. "...did you tell Gin to get Dazai if you can
fight him?"
"I can handle Ace, but..." They stop for a moment so the wolf can locate where the scent is
coming from exactly, which turn and which cold corridor will lead them to the right place.
"...he's usually just someone's pawn. He's dangerous but easily manipulated."
His throat is dry when Chuuya speaks. "Someone else planned it?"
"I don't know." The other says as they start walking again. "Now, I can only smell Ace and
your friends here, so it may have been just him, but I couldn't be sure before, so I sent Gin."
Blue eyes widen, even though they can't see much, Chuuya's heart starting to race. "You can
smell them? Are they alright?"
"..." Ryuu pulls him towards another turn. Gods, how big is this cave? "They're here but I
can't tell you much more than that." He eventually says. "And Ace is with them."
The redhead swallows.
They're here. They've found them and they're going to save them.
They continue walking deeper inside the cave, only slowing down when Ryuu needs to make
sure they're taking the right turn or when they come across more guards. Occasionally, there
are fire torches mounted on the walls, but the majority of time there is no light around. They
rely solely on Ryuu's amplified wolf senses of smell, sight and hearing to get them to the
right place. it gets colder with every turn, but Chuuya's blood is rushing through his veins,
helping him ignore anything else other than the thought—
Another turn, no Yuan.
Another turn, no Shirase.
Another turn, no—

"Is that mnghh—!" Chuuya isn't try to be loud but Ryuu still covers his mouth the moment
the words leave his lips, pulling the boy back with his arm.
Right there, at the end of the tunnel, is a bright light coming from around the corner and now
even the redhead can hear faint, muffled cries coming from the same direction. He wants to
run to them, he wants to make sure they’re fine, but he knows there isn't anything he can
actually do alone, so he follows the other boy as they approach the light quietly, but not as
slowly as before.
They're so close. They're almost there—
Hiss!
—when Ryuu stops for less than a second, then both of his arms wrap around Chuuya
without a warning as the boy turns on his heel and jumps away, right into the light coming
from around the corner.
The sudden movement leaves the redhead disoriented for a moment, his eyes struggling to
adjust to the brightness, but he doesn't have enough time to think about what is happening.
Just as they land on the ground again, Ryuu unwraps his arms and pulls Chuuya behind his
back with one hand.
"My, my." Comes an unfamiliar voice. "I'll have to clean my entire home now to get rid of a
wet dog's smell."
Is it…?
"I can burn it down for you." Ryuu bites back. "Or I can burn it down with you."
Chuuya tries to take a look at the person stepping out of the shadows in front of them. He's
tall, wearing a silky purple kimono, with ash grey hair falling on one side of his face.His
smile looks venomous – overly pleasant and making you nauseous at the same time – the
only eye visible shines with purple matching his clothes, but it doesn't look normal. There are
white scales around the corner of his eye and all the way to his brow, his pupil shaped like a
thin, black slit, reminding Chuuya of a snake's eye.
And the man also hisses similarly to a snake, only more unpleasant.
"I don't like your rudeness,” The stranger groans. “but I'm grateful for bringing me the little
human hiding behind you. It saves me a lot of trouble."
The comment makes the redhead flinch, but Ryuu's hand keeps him safe behind his back
when Ace throws a big, actual snake in their direction. Did it come out of his sleeve?
Is everyone keeping demons in their fucking sleeves now?

But Ryuu doesn't even move out of its way. He only catches the animal in one hand and
throws it to the side. The snake writhes on the ground, faint smoke coming from between its
scales before it eventually stills and turns into ash.
"Did you really think that would work?"
"No, but it doesn't matter." Ace's grin grows wider. "Because there is more. "
Gradually, the hissing sound grows stronger and Chuuya realises it's not coming just from
Ace, but from behind and above him as well – from everywhere. Because now there are
countless snakes – in all colours and sizes, some much bigger than what normal animals
would be – coming from behind Ace, slithering on the ground, the floor, the ceiling —
"Ryuu?" Chuuya tugs at the other's clothes.
—and even from behind them.
"Have fun, you dirty mutt."
The redhead doesn't get a chance to think about their options or the insult thrown at his
friend. Just as Ace says that, all the snakes launch at them with bared fangs.
Ryuu pushes, or rather throws, Chuuya out of the way and further into the lit up room,
making him fall and roll on the stone floor. He can feel scratches made through the fabric of
his clothes and a bruise forming on his back from the impact, but he soon forgets about any
of it when he looks back up and sees Ryuu.
The boy is surrounded by snakes, some wrapped around his body, some with fangs piercing
his skin and drawing blood, but he's still standing. He's tearing the animals off of his body
and throwing them to the side to burn away while a couple of them start turning to ash while
still on him. But no matter how many he kills, more keep coming and Ace is slowly
approaching him.
"Ryuu!"
"Stay away!" Chuuya halts, already on his knees and ready to go to the other boy. "I'll be
fine, you won't. "
Of course. He's human. He can't do anything.
He's useless —
"MNGHH—!"
Chuuya's head shoots to the side at the loud sound, eyes leaving Ryuu and falling on…
"Yuan!"
The redhead is stumbling as he runs towards the girl. She's tied up and there are light bruises
on her face and legs, but her eyes are open wide and full of fear.
"Oh gods, Yuan!" Chuuya drops down again, kneeling behind the girl and fumbling with the
rope around her wrists. "You're okay, it's going to be okay—"
Ryuu grabs the snake wrapped around his neck and with fangs sunk deep into his shoulder,
and tears it away, not bothered by the poison dripping from its body. There's venom on his
clothes, skin, in his veins, but it's nowhere near enough to hurt him. It's just that his
movements are restricted by the sheer number of serpents keeping him in place.
"You're better than I thought." Ace teases him, now only a few steps away and getting closer.
"But it's futile. A low demon can't win against me. I'm a descendant of drag— AGH—! "
And that's exactly what Ryuu has been waiting for – for Ace to get close enough, on his own
and unguarded, right within his claw's reach.
"Your ancestors may have been dragons." The boy speaks, looking down at the man pressing
his hand to the bleeding face. "But you are just a pest. "
He releases his smoke all at once, a dark cloud enveloping his entire body and turning all the
serpents within a metre radius to dust. He knows losing an eye won't make too much of a
difference for Ace, the snake has always lived in the dark, but it's satisfying to see him like
this. The balck haired boy is about to reach for the man again when he hears unfamiliar
footsteps coming from behind him and going towards…
"Chuuya!"
Ryuu turns around just as a one of the slaves, the biggest one so far, starts pulling the redhead
away from the pink–haired girl. He's not hurting him, but he is trying to take him away and
that won’t do.
"Don't you dare! " He jumps forward, one hand grabbing Chuuya's arm while the other
pierces through the man's chest.
"Mnghh—!" Comes a muffled cry from behind him, probably Yuan's, but he's not giving it
much thought yet. He's too focused on the newcomers running towards them.
Ace's slaves are weak, but they're annoying.
He has dozens of them and, since they're not actually alive, they don't have scents, making it
more difficult to sense them coming when there's so much noise around. All while he still
needs to get to Ace. All while he still needs to protect Chuuya and his friends.
"Stay back." Ryuu says as he leaps forward, turning into his wolf form in the air. Claws
together with fangs are better than just claws after all. He doesn't count how many of them he
kills, he just knows there are more coming. And, from the corner of his eye, he can see
Chuuya fighting some of them with a knife he probably picked up from one of the ash piles.
Gods, that human is so stubborn.

Well, at least he's staying away from the snakes.
Ryuu doesn't bother with leaving the slaves' jewels behind anymore, he's not going to let Ace
use them again – he shatters every single one.
"You little—!"
Ace hisses at him as his lower body turns into that of a huge snake with grey scales, the end
of his tail shooting right at Ryuu. The wolf crushes two jewels between his teeth before
jumping to the side and sinking his teeth into the snake's flesh.
"AGH—!"
A snake demon's scales are tough, but Ryuu's fangs are sharp and his jaw clenches hard on
the long tail, his claws sinking into the flesh and tearing it. Ace screams in pain, trying to
shake the wolf away when hot, black smoke starts flowing inside his body through the
wounds. Just one jump at his throat and—
Chuuya digs his knife into another person's neck, cold blood splashing on his face before
turning into ash. He's killed at least five of them by now and he thinks it's almost the end
but…
"Hi, mister."
As the body of a tall woman falls to the ground before him, Chuuya is faced with a face he
recognises.
"You..."
"Thank you for helping me last time." The boy smiles at him, tilting his head to the side and
playing with the knife in his hand. "If I came back with nothing, my master would get really
angry at me."
Chuuya looks at the other, he looks at how young the boy looks, even if in the back of his
head he knows the person standing in front of him isn't a human, isn’t a child.
"You don't have to do this." He tries, his voice painted with a pleading tone. Because even if
he knows it’s futile, he Chuuya doesn’t want to fight and potentially kill the younger redhead.
"Oh, I do have to do this." The boy answers, his shoulders shrugging. "I don't want to, but I
don't get a say in any of this."
Chuuya jumps to the side just as the boy throws himself at him, his knife missing the older
redhead's stomach by less than a few inches.
"You see, I'm allowed to be able to think for myself." The boy says as he's turning around to
attack Chuuya again. "But I don't actually have free will. "
Their knives meet with a loud, sharp sound. Metal clashing with metal.
"You're a child." Chuuya tries to make the other lose balance, to make him drop the knife, but
his every move is countered with dangerous little effort.
"I'm not even human, mister." The boy chuckles. "Though, I've always wished to become
one."
With every time their knives meet, Chuuya is forced to take a step back. He could fight back,
he could do the same thing he did to other slaves, but... this is a boy that he once helped
because his eyes were full of tears and his voice was tremblling. He can’t just forget that
image, not anymore.
"But I realised it's impossible." The younger one continues. "So I gave up on that dream."
"Don't do this." Chuuya tries to reason, even if he knows it's Ace that is making the boy
attack him. "Don't make me—"
"Kill me?" The other chuckles again, aiming his knife at Chuuya's throat, but never reaching
it as the redhead grabs his wrist and throws him over the shoulder to the ground. But the boy
doesn't stay down for long, he jumps to his feet and throws one of the snakes at Chuuya.
"Mister, I can't die."
The redhead avoids the snake, but is a fraction of a second too late to step away from the
other's attack completely. His knife misses again, but a small hand grabs him by the arm and
throws him to the wall. The boy looks young, but he sure is stronger than an adult.
"Because I'm not even alive. "
Chuuya doesn’t hit the wall that hard, but the shock makes him slide to the ground. His ears
are ringing and he has to blink to focus his vision again. His knife lies somewhere next to
him, but he has to reach for it and the other boy will not wait.
Blue eyes fall at the knife pointed at him, and Chuuya can hear low hissing getting closer.
"AGH—!" A scream comes from somewhere behind the younger boy, then a low growl and
then the smaller redhead is thrown to the side by a black wolf.
"Are you okay?" Ryuu says just before burning the snakes coming their way.
"Y–yeah." Chuua replies, looking at the small figure slowly getting up from the ground in the
shadow and then up at his friend again. "Did you get Ace?"
"I was about to," Ryuu says, helping Chuuya get up with his tail. "but then I saw you on the
ground and..."
Ah, so he's a bother again?
"Sorry..."
"Don't be."
" You—! " Ace shouts at them, and Chuuya can see how red his tail is, how his flesh is torn
apart in so many places. "I'll make you—!"
Ryuu's wolf form takes a defensive stand, shielding the redhead with his body, growling and
baring fangs—
"Hm?" A hand with sharp nails wraps around Ace's throat, making the snake choke on his
words as he’s gasping for air. "You'll make them what?"
Both of the snake's hands reach to his neck and behind his head to scratch at the arm choking
him, but it doesn’t help as the next second he's being thrown to the wall, more screams
ripping out of his chest.
Dazai looks down at the pathetic figure squirming in pain on the ground as broken rocks from
the wall fall on it. "I don't think I heard you well. But then again, I don't have a habit of
listening to worthless bugs. "
The kitsune steps closer while Ace can only throw up blood and try to meet the red, burning
gaze.
" However, " Dazai continues. "coming here made me realise why that spell on the army that
tried to attack me a few days back smelled so disgustingly familiar." The fox stops by the
pooling blood, his head tilted to the side. "You were always stupid, but I didn't think you
were that stupid."
"Y–you— AGH! " Ace screams again as one of Dazai's tails moves to cut off the end of the
snake's tail.
"Sending your little followers to die is one thing, but going after my servants is a completely
different matter. And, frankly..."
The fox shakes the blood off of his tail with disgust.
"...I've had enough of you."
Ace looks at the kitsune with seething eyes, half of his face covered with blood. He opens his
mouth to speak back—
But he never does.
Instead, blue fire shoots out of his mouth, his eyes, his body starts twisting in agony. The
flames come from under his scales, burning his skin and flesh alive. Screams fill the dark
space of the cave as Ace tries to fight the flames, fight the spell with his own powers…
But Dazai knows it won't help him. He watches the pest writhe on the ground, he feels the
summoned demon snakes and slaves slowly fading away, and he doesn't care. He should have
done it a long time ago.
Chuuya watches the whole scene in silence, his eyes blown wide and heart racing. He doesn't
feel bad for Ace, hell, he's enjoying watching him suffer and he’s relieved to see Dazai,
though that is an emotional conflict all on its own. Ryuu turns back to his human form next to
him, and the redhead looks to the side, searching for the young boy…
But only a pile of ash and a single, red jewel remain.
His heart clenches, even if it probably shouldn't. The boy did try to kill him but… he didn't
choose to do it. The young redhead wanted to be a human, he must have wanted a normal life
outside of his cave and away from someone who only used him, but he was never granted
that peace. Human or not, with or without free will… there was no desire to kill Chuuya in
his eyes, only someone’s orders.
Soon, Ace's body stills, swallowed by blue flames and it's finally over.
FInally, they're saf—
"Get away from him!" A scream shoots through the air from the other side of the room. "I
SAID GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
Yuan glares at the black–haired girl as she falls to her knees on the ground next to Shirase.
She may have set her free, but Yuan doesn't care. She doesn’t know her, she only knows that
girl was a fucking wolf until a second ago. Fortunately, the girl listens and steps away, leaving
Yuan with…
"Shirase!" Yuan shakes his body. "Shirase, wake up! Wake up!"
No response.
So she tries again.
"Wake up! Shirase! Wake up, please! " Her hands move from Shirase's shoulders to his face,
his covered–in–blood face, trying to make him open his eyes. "Come on!" Yuan screams.
"Why won't you listen?! You said you loved me, so listen to me now!"
...and no answer ever comes.
But she tries again anyway.
The girl shakes his body, his head, tries to force his eyes open with shaking fingers, she tries
to order him to wake up, to do anything that would give her a simple sign.
"Please, please!" Yuan begs him to wake up, uncaring about anyone else listening. "H–hey!
Stop pretending! Shirase, this isn't funny!" And her voice breaks with every word.
"SHIRASE!" She screams at the top of her lungs, burning tears falling on the boy's body.
"STOP IT!"
Her whole body is trembling and her throat burns with pain. The pain blooming from her
wounds and sore limbs are nothing compared to the agony of having her heart ripped open.
"Sweetheart..." She says more softly, gently caressing the boy's cheek. "You wanted me to
call you that, right? I'll do it, I'll always call you that, I promise, ju—just open your eyes,
please—"
But the boy never grants her wish.
"No..." Yuan whispers, her hands cupping a Shirase's cold face as the reality slowly reaches
her mind. "No, no, no, you can't—"
Her arms wrap around his freezing body and lean it on her legs and chest. "Y–you can't leave
me." She hugs him tighter, pressing her face into the silver hair that has turned red in the last
few hours. "You can't go." She sobs. "Not before I let you. Not before I tell you that I love
you too. "
The body in her arms feels so heavy, so cold, but maybe if she warms it enough, maybe if she
asks enough times.
"Please, don't leave me."
Maybe if she prays enough.
"Please , come back. "
...but it just isn't enough this time.
"You can't do that..." The tears won't stop, they won’t for a long, long time. "You said you'll
love me forever, y–you can't just leave. I–I believed you..."
And how are these tears that burn her face not hot enough to warm Shirase's body?
"Y–you said you'd marry me. So you can't go, you can't lie to me!"
And if he stayed? He would marry her. Because Yuan would say yes—
"Shirase, please, I'll do anything, anything, just… just open your eyes"
—but now she'll never get a chance to do that.
"...just say you love me again, okay? Because I love you. "
And wherever he is, Shirase does love her. But he can't make her smile anymore.
"L–let's go back home together, okay?" Yuan caresses his hair, kisses his head. "L–let's go
back and tell everyone there will be a wedding, okay? J–just open your eyes..."
If there are any injuries on his body, Chuuya doesn't feel them. He doesn't feel anything other
than the sharp pain piercing through his heart.
How did this happen?
Why did this happen?
He doesn't want to believe it, it can't be true. There must be a way … but Gin only shakes her
head when he looks at her, and cold washes over his body. He can only hear Yuan's cries, he
can only see her shaking body and tears, and Shirase's… lifeless corpse?
But that's not possible, right? It's an illusion, or a trick, or Ace's spell, or a nightmare—
Ah, but Chuuya doesn't dream, does he?
Maybe if he gets closer, maybe Shirase will listen to him. They're friends, right? Friends
listen to each other. "Y–Yuan..."
"STAY AWAY!"
The redhead stills at her scream, he doesn't dare move or speak, even breathing feels wrong
when… when she looks at him like that. And, deep in his heart, Chuuya may one day realise
that it wasn't a choice Yuan made herself, that her eyes and voice weren't truly her.
Because grief can be overwhelming.
It makes you desperate for an answer, for an explanation, because you don’t understand.
Because it’s not fair, not right. Because it wasn’t supposed to happen. And you keep
searching for a way out of this labyrinth of pain you were thrown into, but sometimes there
just isn’t any and all you’re left with is a high wall you can’t climb or move. So you try again
and again and again—
But the answer is never there and you’re trapped.
And that’s when grief really takes control.
There is no exit, there is no way out – so it makes you create your own escape yourself. A
reason that may not be true but at least gives this loss a meaning, an explanation that feels
wrong but lets you pierce through the cold walls of reality separating you from the bliss of
lies that give your pain a purpose.
But lies don’t grant relief, they only force your mind into accepting the madness they weave
around your heart. It’s illogical but it starts ruling your world. It’s illogical but you let it be
that.
Because that’s the only part of grief that comes easy.

Being forced into facing what happened is hard, trying to pretend it was nothing more than a
nightmare is hard, running around the endless paths of pain tangling in your mind is hard—
…but anger? Anger is the easiest emotion, the most familiar one. Like a friend that stays so
quiet you forget about them, but a friend that never leaves.
It doesn’t need your care.
It doesn’t need you to want it.
All it takes for anger to reach out for your hand is that one seed planted a long, long time ago.
A seed of happiness that turned sour, a seed of peace that was left to rot—
A seed of love that was crushed before it had the chance to bloom.
It doesn't make anything better, it doesn't make anything fair, but it makes life... easier. And
Yuan's eyes? Her tears? They're all and only hers. But her words?
"This is your fault."
Her words belong to her grief.
(And there will come a day when Chuuya realises it, there will be a day when he lets himself
be happy again, but it's not today.)
The words ring loud and clear in his mind, repeating themselves over and over again.
//This is your fault.//
If only he came back earlier, if only he didn't delay his return.
If only he was more careful and didn't give his ribbon away so easily.
If only he didn't agree to go to that Festival.
If only he never stayed at Dazai's house.
If only he never met these travellers…

Oh.
If only he never made anyone go into that forest on purpose.
This is his fault, isn't it? If it wasn't for him, none of this would happen. If it wasn't for him
Shirase would still be alive and Yuan—
"Go away, Chuuya.” The girl cries out. “Go away and don't come back."
"Yu—"
"GO THE FUCK AWAY!"
His body feels numb, he can't feel the air in his lungs – is he even breathing? He must be
because something feels hot, he's still so alive, so he is breathing, but...
Is it his heart that's burning? No, no. His chest feels like it's filled with ice and needles.
Is it his injuries? No, no. He can't feel them at all.
Ah... is it his face? His cheeks? Yes, they feel hot and...wet?
…oh, these are his tears.
He's crying.
…but is he allowed to cry when all of this is his fault?
His eyes are open, but they're not seeing anything. They don't see Gin putting Yuan to sleep
and taking both her and Shirase's body back to the village with a simple spell. They don't see
the pool of blood left behind on the floor. They don't see Ryuu's worried expression right in
front of Chuuya's face. His eyes don't see how the boy's lips move and his ears don't hear the
words spoken to him. Maybe Ryuu is shaking him, or maybe it's just his own body trembling.
Who can tell the difference?
//This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault.
This is your fault. This is your fault.//
"Chuuya."
Who is calling out to him?

//Go away and don't come back. Go away and don't come back. Go away and don't come
back. Go away and don't come back. Go away and don't come back.//
"Chuuya."
Who is calling out to h—
"Chibi."
Huh?
He blinks, but his vision is still blurred. Oh, but it isn't a wall he's facing anymore, it's not red
– it's blue. Is it someone's kimono?
There is something on his face. Is it... someone's hand? Chuuya doesn't recognise it, but... it's
gentle. It's guiding his head up and he doesn't have any strength left to fight it. He doesn't
have any will to fight it.
"Chibi, look at me."
He's looking, he's looking, but... who is it? The brown hair looks familiar, the dark eye too.
Chuuya knew someone who would wear bandages on their face, but who was it? He's seen
these white ears somewhere before.
"This was not your fault."
Is it... Dazai?
But why is he here? He hates Chuuya. He wanted him gone, he's happy that Chuuya is gone.
"Chibi, listen to me."
Why does Dazai look worried? Why is his voice so gentle? It was never this gentle.
(...or was it?)
"This was not your fault."
//This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault.//
"Let's go home."
//Go away and don't come back. Go away and don't come back. Go away and don't come
back. Go away and don't come back. Go away and don't come back.//
Huh...?
//GO THE FUCK AWAY!//

"...no." Chuuya isn't sure whether he's actually saying it out loud or if it's all in his head, but
it doesn't matter. "No." He shakes his head. "No."
He can't.
He can't go home.
He's not allowed to go home.
"No. I can't. I can't. I can't—"
"Chibi, look at me."
There are two palms carefully keeping his face in place, but Chuuya's is fighting against
them. He has to shake his head, he has to tell Dazai—
" No. I can't. She told me—"
"Chibi, I'm not taking you to the village." The words reach Chuuya's mind, but their meaning
stays hidden behind the thick fog clouding it.
What? Where then? There is nowhere else he can go, nowhere else he belongs.
"We're going back to my home. Our home."
Dazai's home? But he told Chuuya not to come back. He—
Ah... He's so tired.
He can't win against the fox, so why would he fight? Maybe he can just close his eyes and let
everything fall black again. Maybe it'll make things better.
(It doesn't.)
And if not... Well, the arms under his knees and back don't feel that bad. The material in
which Chuuya buries his face isn't that rough. Maybe the warmth that envelops him does feel
a little familiar.
But he won't look anymore.
He'll let himself be carried wherever Dazai seems fit. He'll let himself be laid down on the
futon that feels like his past. Maybe it's Ryuu tending to the small scratches he got, or maybe
it's Gin. Does it matter?
There's no point in looking, there's no point in keeping his eyes open. Or maybe they are
open and it's just all black?
Ah...He so tired.
So he'll let himself be treated. He'll let himself be covered by the same familiar warmth as
before and he'll let this gentle hand stroke his hair through the night. Chuuya will let all of
this happen, even if he doesn't deserve it, because he doesn't have the strength to fight it.
But will he sleep? Or will the tears keep him awake? No... they're sobs now, aren't they?
…let it be this way. He won't try anymore.
Chuuya will stay here and shed the tears suffocating him, and he'll wait until the hand that
brings him so much comfort leaves when it understands that…
He doesn't deserve it.
Chapter End Notes
There was a lot of POV switching in this chapter, but I hope it wasn't too confusing :')
the descriptions were also a bit rushed because I wanted it to feel like an actual, fast-
paced battle etc...
And I must admit, editing it was hard for my heart :''')

Broken Pieces
Chapter Notes
Dazai... doesn't know what to do.
He has lived for hundreds of years, but he has never experienced this kind of loss, he's only
ever been the cause of it for others. He's seen tears of sorrow many times before, but they've
never been this... unsettling to witness as they fall from human eyes. No one's tears have ever
bothered him – he's a kitsune, he never cares. Why would he when pain is just a part of being
alive? Why would he care when there was a time he enjoyed watching sorrow consume weak
souls?
…but now, with Chuuya, it's different.
Nothing in Dazai’s mind or heart moved when he saw the silver haired boy's dead body,
nothing in him softened when he heard the girl's cries and desperate begging because demons
like him know no pity and, yet, a sharp pain pierced through his heart when he looked at the
redhead and saw… emptiness.
He remembers sensing how the small body shivered and then stilled, how it burnt hot before
growing cold, how Chuuya's face was full of hope only for it to turn into despair in less than
a second. He remembers sensing the light that has always been there in the small chest fading
away, the spirit so fierce and strong losing its meaning as it shattered before his eyes.
And Dazai couldn't do anything, for it was not his place to try, not the time he’d still have a
chance.
He didn't feel angry at the human girl, he didn't blame her for losing to grief and blaming
Chuuya for what had happened, but the sight her words left behind pained him, even if he
still doesn't quite understand why. It was a sight of a put–out flame, of a flower stripped of its
petals; her words left the once vibrant Chibi nothing but an empty shell. Unseeing,
unhearing, uncaring about anything other than letting the darkness embrace him.
There was nothing Dazai could have said to prevent this, nothing he could have done. The
boy was already dead and the girl… She may not have mattered to the kitsune, but she is
someone important to Chuuya and she had the right to let herself drown in sorrow.
All Dazai could do was watch and not interfere, and once it was over…
When he got there after Gin had found him, it wasn't the fox’s intention to bring Chuuya back
here. He was supposed to kill Ace and leave, letting the Akutagawas handle the rest, but he
couldn't do that, not after all the cruel and miserable words that had been spoken.
He couldn't leave Chuuya without a home to go back to.

He couldn't leave Chuuya alone, dead inside a living body.
For once, Dazai let himself act as the voice in his head told him to. He could see how the blue
eyes weren't really looking at him, how they didn't recognise him at first, but he still took the
Chibi back to where he would be safe. To their—
To his home.
And the redhead is safe, he's not physically hurt but… but he's still only a shadow of the
human Dazai remembers walking down the hallways of his residence with a bright look in
his eyes and an even brighter smile. This Chuuya doesn't feel like a living person, his gaze is
clouded, his mind and body stopped fighting, surrendering to whatever the world around him
decides to throw his way.
It was easy to bring him here, it was easy to tend to the small scratches and faint bruises, and
clean his body from dirt, to change his clothes and put him down on his futon.
Not a single word fell from his lips, not a single complaint or a question was uttered.
There were only tears trailing down his face, from his opened but never looking ahead eyes.
Now, Dazai can only look as the same tears burn the redhead's face as he's drifting in and out
of his sleep. Sometimes his body is still, sometimes violent shivers take control, sometimes
Chuuya curls up under the cover and trembles in pain the fox can't cure, something there is
no medicine for. But even then, the human stays silent, his sobs are so quiet they don’t feel
right.
He doesn't scream, doesn't let it out, doesn't ask for everything to stop – he doesn't blame the
world for what happened as a hurt person would.
And Dazai knows it's wrong.
These so, so faint cries he's hearing aren't those of mourning, because with mourning comes
acceptance and there’s none of it in Chuuya’s sobs. They should be full of grief, they should
be full of blame, but they aren't.
Because these cries are trying to hide.
Because the blame never left Chuuya's mind.
Dazai may not know much about the sorrow that comes with losing a loved one, but he
knows hatred when he sees it. It takes many forms: it befriends anger, dances with spite and
dines with greed. It's loud and burning hot with ravaging flames…
...but it can also embrace you like a lover.
It can gently and quietly wrap its arms around your mind so that you won't try to fight it,
because it will feel like you belong there. It doesn't have to make you hurt those around you,
that's not everything it cares for — it can wish to kill you silently, in your own heart.
That's what self–hatred truly loves: to play at the strings of your heart that only know the
melody of resentment for the person you are and not for the world that shaped you – and
that's exactly what the kitsune sees and hears as he gazes at the small figure that has lost its
hope.
But he can’t find a way to help Chuuya escape this dark prison the redhead doesn’t wish to
leave.
Dazai knows he can't force the pain away, it wouldn't work. He can point Chuuya to the way
out, but the redhead has to take the steps himself, he has to be the one to unwrap these vines
from around his heart. The fox wants to help him, he wants to take his hand and guide the
Chibi through this poisonous maze but he doesn't know how, he doesn’t know where the
gates are.
How does he make it hurt less? What does the human need?
Is a kitsune even capable of doing such a thing? Of being there without making it worse?
His hand rests on Chuuya's head, slowly stroking his hair in hope to chase his inner demons
away, his tails covering the small body because Dazai remembers a time when the redhead
used to like it, but it doesn't seem to help. It’s not enough. He can't give the Chibi comfort
when he's the one who hurt him in the past, when his own words left open wounds on the
boy’s heart; maybe not as deep as the ones inflicted today, but not without consequences
either.
Ah… it would have been easier if Chuuya hated him instead.
After all, it was Dazai who ruined their relations, it was Dazai who refused to be there when
it mattered – maybe if he had never gone away, none of it would have happened. It's fine if
the redhead blames him, the fox can live with the other's resentment. Earlier, he said he
wouldn’t accept Chuuya’s accusations but if they can help, then he will.
…but the Chibi doesn't blame him, he doesn't direct his hatred at the fox who knows how to
live being hated, so Dazai can't do anything.
What words do humans wish to hear in these situations? What actions should he take? The
only thing the kitsune could offer would be revenge, but it's already been done. Ace is dead.
But it won't make it better for the Chibi, will it? It doesn’t make it better.
Dazai looks at the small figure, searching for an answer, but never finding it in the shadows
corrupting Chuuya’s soul. He strokes the red hair the whole evening, the whole night and
until the morning finally comes, wishing it to bring the boy at least some comfort he so
desperately needs but refuses to ask for.
He knows Chuuya is awake, he knows his eyes are open, but the redhead doesn't look at him.
He's lying on the side, unmoving and facing the wall opposite to where Dazai is sitting—
"...here?"
The fox's ears shoot up when a quiet, weak voice reaches him. Is Chuuya speaking to him, or
is he mumbling to himself? Talking to the devils that live inside his mind?
"What was that?" Dazai asks softly, trying not to startle the other, but making sure the boy
hears it.
"...why am I here?"
It's a question Dazai expected, but it doesn't make answering it any less tricky with how
carefully he has to avoid pressing the knives deeper into Chuuya's heart. "Because I brought
you here." The kitsune says, letting each word ring clear in the room. "Because you were
hurt."
"...I don't feel hurt." The Chibi isn't arguing, he's not trying to be brave, he… he truly
believes his words, because his body isn't injured, not severely. His mind numbs everything
else other than his grief and hatred.
"You are, Chibi." But Dazai knows better and he needs to make sure Chuuya understands.
"You are hurting."
It’s never easy to see what hides behind silence as it rings louder than thunderstorms. It could
be a sign of defeat or of a struggle to find oneself again, but what always gives away the
suffering are words—
"...I should go."
—words that carry old pain everywhere they go, everywhere they’re summoned from the
cold past.
Dazai's brow furrows, concern creeping into his gaze. "You need to rest."
"You told me to go…" Chuuya’s words are colourless, even though they aren't cold. They
don't feel like anything. "...so I should go."
The brunette's hand stops, never moving away from the red hair but only resting there, letting
the boy know Dazai is still here as he tries to understand. Yes, he did say that once, in the
heat of anger and hurt, but…
"You don't have to go anymore. You can stay."
He would never make Chuuya leave like this, he would never allow it.
"Why?"
It's not an easy question, though it may seem like one. There are many reasons flowing into
Dazai's mind before they disappear again, leaving the kitsune confused about his own
feelings. Feelings he has never understood, never voiced because he doesn't know how. He
only knows how to speak with lies or with facts, never with his heart or soft words he was
never taught.
And, usually, it's enough, but sometimes it's not the right time for it. But Dazai doesn't know
that, he's never had to learn that facts and truths aren’t always the answer to one’s suffering.
"Because you have nowhere else to go."
In his mind, this short answer isn't meant to hurt, it's but a simple statement of what
happened. He doesn't mention Ace or the girl of that boy, but he also doesn't say it's because
he wants Chuuya to stay, because that thought escapes his mind too quickly for Dazai to hold
onto.
Again.
The Chibi stays quiet, his breathing never changing and eyes still looking at the wall, not at
Dazai. "Why were you there?" This time, the question seems weird.
The fox retracts his hand, keeping only his tails covering the small body. "Because Gin told
me what happened."
Isn't it obvious? Chuuya should have known about it.
"Why did you listen?"
Dazai is getting more confused with every question. Why wouldn't he listen to her?
(He was worried.)
It involved Ace and Chuuya, of course he had to deal with it. That snake should have been
disposed of centuries ago.
"Why wouldn't I?"
The redhead doesn't answer, but he does turn around slowly, even if it's only his shoulders
and head, and Dazai sees... The vast nothingness stretching behind the blue eyes, an ocean
calm as if it was never alive with… a single, faint sparkle trying to shine somewhere in the
dark, a single rip through the unmoving surface keeping Chuuya trapped.
A sparkle the fox didn't think he'd find, a sparkle of unknown origins he can't grasp.
"Why did you come?"
A sparkle Dazai should recognise, should remember. It was there when they were still both
happy, it was there when Chuuya tried to make it right again and apologised, only to be told
to leave. But right now, the kitsune finds himself looking straight at it and not knowing where
it came from, only that he’s glad it’s there.
"Why?" The human repeats just as weakly as faintly his sparkle of hope burns.
But, again, isn't it obvious?
They were in trouble, Ace could have turned out to be more dangerous than he used to be, so
Dazai came to help. (Even if he knew Ryuu would be enough to deal with it.)
The snake targeted Dazai's servants, of course he had to make him pay. (Even if he knew
Chuuya isn’t his servant anymore.)
Because he was annoyed. (Because he was worried.) Because he was angry. (Because he was
worried.) Because he wanted to kill Ace once and for all. (Because he was worried.) Because
—
"I don't know."
…why was it, again?
—the day before—
"It's— it's Chuuya." Gin says quickly. "Ace has his friends. Ryuu was about to look for them
when I left, but I believe Chuuya went with him."
Dazai's eye widens, the red in it orb glowing stronger with each passing second. "When?"
The girl shakes her head. "A while. I didn't know where to look for the three of you, this is
the last place I came to check."
The fox grits his teeth. There are hundreds of places he, Odasaku and Ango can choose,
hundreds of places they have chosen before, and Gin hasn't been to all of them so she
couldn't have used a spell to make it faster.
And she was never here, which means Dazai has already lost too much time.
The kitsune's expression stays cold, but the blood in his veins starts boiling at the thought of
that thing getting its hands on his—
"Dazai?" Odasaku's voice reaches him from behind, confused but most of all concerned.
"Change of plans." Dazai doesn't look at his friends, they'll be fine without him. Someone
else may not be. "I don't like this weather anymore."
(‘I have to go.’)
"Gin, can you sense where your brother is right now?"
"I'll need a moment." Comes a quick answer as the girl closes her eyes, focusing.
It doesn’t even take long, but every second slipping past his fingers feels way too long,
escaping him too fast while there’s somewhere he needs to be. Ryuu can handle Ace just fine,
but that pest has dozens of slaves at his disposal, hundreds of familiars and now he also has
hostages. It shouldn't be too hard for the wolf, but if the Chibi was being stubborn again and
—
And of course he was.
He's always like this, making Dazai…(amused)...annoyed, and now it's also making him...
(worried)...angry at how reckless the human can be.
Because he's being unreasonable. (‘Please, be safe.’)
Why is the human always so eager to chase after demons, why can;t he understand theirs is
not a world he should involve himself with? (‘Please, wait for me.’)
It's such a bother to rescue the Chibi every time when he clearly throws himself at the danger.
(‘I shouldn’t have let you leave.’)
"I've found them." Gin suddenly says just as black smoke starts wrapping around the two.
Dazai places his hand on the girl’s shoulder, forcing his fingers to stay relaxed instead of
digging into her flesh, causing unnecessary pain. "I'll see you another time." He says to his
friends, though his tone isn't as playful as before. It’s forced and seething with rage, visions
of what he’ll do to that snake forming in front of his eye.
If they’re too late, if anything happens to Chuuya before he gets there, he’ll make sure Ace
suffers a thousand times what he’s inflicted. Dazai will make his death painful and slow, he’ll
make the snake crawls on the dirt where he belongs and—
"Dazai, are you okay?!" He hears Ango's voice before the scenery disappears, a question
fading away into a muffled background.
Oh, he is. (He’s not.) Why wouldn't he?
Why wouldn't Dazai be okay?
—present time—
Chuuya blinks and looks at the ceiling.
Oh.
Dazai doesn't know.

That's… new. But it doesn’t sound bad, not that Chuuya can tell anymore. Maybe this answer
hurt him and he's simply not realising it because his body feels so numb, or because his mind
has already been shattered and it can’t feel more pain than it already does. Or maybe…
Well, regardless of the reason, it doesn't add to the pain in his heart, so maybe it's actually a
good sign.
…but what is a good sign anymore?
It used to be that feeling when he could avoid injuries, or when he was warm at night, but all
of these hold no value to him now. Is it a good sign that he's alive? That he's here? That he's
been chased out of the village? That he is unharmed while his friends suffered?
Chuuya can't distinguish between good and bad anymore. None of it feels like it did before.
Trying to gather his thoughts feels like walking on broken glass while trying to put the pieces
back together. Some of them don't fit at all, some of them fit perfectly but differ in colour,
some form shapes that can't be real, can’t be a part of him.
The only thing that stays the same is pain.
Constant, never–ending. It lasted the whole night, yet it never took him away as he thought it
would. It pierced his skin without drawing blood, it suffocated him with every full breath he
took.
But he's here.
Alive and awake, and trying to put the puzzle of his mind back together, trying to understand.
Yes, Chuuya knows. He isn't fighting it. He's just looking for a missing piece.
There is a picture that he sees, a mosaic he's been trying to complete since his sobs gave way
to simple tears. It's blue, and red, and black with accents of white, and green, and it's
incomplete. There are parts of it that Chuuya recognises: the green looks somehow like his
childhood, but not quite – like the forest he knows, but it’s the parts he's still only
discovering.
There's a black figure with a glowing white around it on one side of the glass leaves and two,
much smaller red ones on the other. But these figures are each missing something, each
missing a piece Chuuya has been searching for, never finding it. The two red figures have an
irregularly shaped gap between them, something that can't be filled with only one glass
puzzle.
Yes, he's already found these pieces and they have the right shapes to almost fill the gap,
but… one piece is still missing, even if the image he sees already feels complete, feels right
in how much it’s wrong.
Chuuya's hands are covered in cuts that don't even hurt anymore, all from trying to fit all
kinds of broken glass scattered around to complete the red figures, but nothing seems to
work. And the other figure, the black one with small pebbles of blue, is similar like that –
also missing something while feeling complete.
//You don't belong here.//
Yes, he's found these pieces too and placed them as best as he could, but they look even
worse than the red ones. The shapes don't match in some places, the edges are too sharp, but
they fill the empty space enough. It doesn't look right, but Chuuya has spent hours putting
that one picture back together, it just needs to be okay, it doesn't need to be perfect. He still
has a lot more to work on.
Only, he can't quite let it go.
And now, he's holding new pieces that draw blood from his hands as they dig into his flesh:
nowhere else to go, I don't know.
Their shapes are even more uneven, more unfitting of this image that he has to complete
because it'll at least be a beginning to finding the answers he seeks. What else is there to
find? What other pieces can he ask for?
"Why were they hurt?"
Maybe that's the bit he's missing. Maybe that's what the red figures are waiting for.
"Because Ace enjoyed hurting others." An answer comes from outside the darkness, a broken
piece falling into Chuuya’s hands. "But he's gone now."
No. The pieces that fell to his hands aren't the ones either. Chuuya's brows furrow as he looks
at the mosaic. What do the red ones want from him? He has already confessed his guilt. What
does the blue one wish to see? He has already left.
"Should it have been me?"
He has already tried that piece and it didn't work, but maybe if it's a new one, maybe if it’s
given to him instead of being just one of many pieces lying around—
"No."
—ah. So it won't fit either. This shape is too rounded, too gentle on his skin. Chuuya doesn't
need it. Maybe he's asking the wrong questions, maybe he should focus on the other figure.
"Why are you here?"
"Because you're hurting."
Useless. That's useless, he already tried that piece, why won't this voice give him a new one?
"I should go."
"No, Chibi, you should stay." Useless.
"I don't belong here."
"You're safe here." Useless.
"You hate me."
"No, I don't." Useless—
...huh?
A new piece falls on top of the pile in his hands and Chuuya just... stares at it. Why does it
look so familiar? Where has he seen it before? This colour, this shape, this feeling.
He looks back at the mosaic stretching before him, then at his hands again and all the pieces
he's been holding fall to the ground as his hands begin to shake. Chuuya falls to his knees,
bloodied hands sorting through the sharp shapes, trembling as if a single touch could break
the thing he's looking for.
Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where—
"I don't hate you, Chibi." A voice rings again, but not from the above, not from outside the
black walls surrounding him – it comes from under Chuuya's palm where a shape so familiar,
yet so new, lies on the ground.
His body shakes as he picks it up, but the redhead doesn't care. He stumbles on the broken
glass almost blindly throwing himself at the blue and white figure, throwing the unfitting
pieces away and—
//He doesn't hate me.//

—it fits as if it has never been broken away in the first place. And it helps Chuuya see more
of the figure, helps him notice the details he chose to forget: the brown and small red, it's…
he knows this figure.
The realisation makes him choke on a sob, new tears pooling in his eyes and freely falling
down. It's the fox that laughed with or at Chuuya so many times, the kitsune whose tails were
always so soft and warm on his skin.
It's that person, who he thought he had lost.
The one Chuuya thought abandoned him.
But he's not angry like the redhead remembers, the glass pieces that shape his body are sharp
but they’re not cold. The smile is teasing, but welcoming, and he looks so much like—
"Dazai?"
For the first time since his mind shattered, Chuuya can actually see the brunette. He's not just
a distant voice anymore, he's here. He's sitting so close to Chuuya and his tails are what
brings the redhead this warmth that stayed with him during the night, even if it was only a
faint sensation behind a thick veil of nothingness.
"Hi, Chibi." And Dazai smiles at him, even if it feels unsure. "Are you back with us?"
Back? He's never left, not after being brought back, but that's not important.
"You don't hate me?" In his mind, Chuuya is sobbing, but here there is only a single tear
burning on his cheek, heavy as the regret he’s been harbouring for much too long and light as
a single feather of hope the redhead is afraid to reach for.
"No, I don't."
"A–are you sure?"
Dazai's hand comes back to his head, gently stroking his hair. Chuua hasn't even realised it
left him at some point until he can feel the fingers running through his hair again. Maybe he
wasn't here after all, maybe he did leave without being aware.
"Yes, I'm sure." There is no uncertainty behind these words, behind this smile.
"B–but it's my fault." Chuuya whispers. "It's my fault." Shirases’ death, their fight before –
all of it.
"No, Chibi." The kitsune shakes his head slowly, brown hair falling down his face. "It's not."
…clink…
"But I did it, I caused it. This is my fault."
"No, it’s not."
…clink…
Why would Dazai say that? Why would he lie to him? Chuuya gave away his ribbon. Chuuya
didn't go back to the village when he should have, when it was time. Chuuya is the one that—
"It's not your fault."
…clink…
"It was never your fault."
…clink…
What is that sound? Where is it coming from?
The redhead looks around him, eyes searching the shattered glass of his soul for where the
sound seems to be calling to him, fighting for his attention.
"It would never be your fault."
…clink…
This time, Chuuya sees the red piece falling down to the ground at his side before it echoes in
his mind. He looks at it, but it doesn't make sense. This piece doesn't belong here, so he grabs
it with one hand and throws it away as hard as he can. It doesn't—
…clink…
Why is it here again?
Chuuya tries again, and again, and again to get rid of the red glass that's mocking him, that
fell here by mistake, but it keeps coming back, a cruel joke he doesn’t need to hear.
"STOP IT!" He screams into the darkness, squeezing the glass in his hand, but the pain on his
palm only reminds him that the piece is there.
Fine.
He'll only prove to himself it doesn't belong here.
He'll show everyone that he doesn't deserve this kindness! He'll—
...but why? How could it be?
//This is not your fault.//
How could it fit?
Chuuya looks down at the pieces that fall in place so perfectly and he doesn't believe them.
What does this mean? Why is it here? Is...
Another sob escapes him, but it feels different. This time, it's not just in his mind, but in his
throat too, choking him on air that burns so bad and so good at the same time, like a breath
he’s been starving for too long to know if it’s really what he wished for.
...is it really not his fault?
Can he really be forgiven? Can he really continue living with this guilt? Is he really allowed?
"It's okay, Chibi." Dazai calls to him again, but Chuuya's eyes are shut, running away from
the brightness that being alive brings. "Let it out."
Can he really accept it? Is it really okay? Can… Can this really be true?
He shakes his head, new tears falling down as Chuuya presses his face into the pillow, curling
under the tails that cover him.
And he screams.
Because it's not fair, it's not right, it wasn't supposed to happen and it hurts – his mind, his
heart, his throat, everything.
Why, why, why—
Chuuya screams about how much he hates it, he screams about how he doesn't understand,
how he doesn't see any meaning behind it. About how it wasn’t Shirase’s fault, about how his
friend deserved to be here and spend his life in peace, with the person he loved. Chuuya hates
the images he remembers, the cries and desperate prayers echoing in his mind with Yuan’s
voice.
He screams, and screams, and screams, and it's not enough—
(But it's a beginning.)
It's so cruel. Why would the world allow it? Why does the world hate him so much? Why did
the world take his friend away?
(His mind is still shattered, it's still in pieces.)
Why wasn't it him instead? Why Shirase? It was never meant to be Shirase! It was meant to
be Chuuya! From the beginning, from the first mistake it was always meant to be Chuuya.
(But at least this one image has been put back together.)
Why is Dazai so calm? Why is he so caring? So nice? Why to Chuuya, when the redhead
doesn't deserve it?
(And maybe it's not much, maybe there's still a whole life to be rebuilt from ruins.)
How does he make it right? How does he make Shirase come back? How does he grant
Yuan's wishes? How can Chuuya pay for this?
(But the rest can wait. For now, he needs to scream and let his voice carry this sorrow and
hatred before they tear him apart from the inside—
And that’s exactly what he does, for as long as he’s allowed to stay awake.)
Chapter End Notes

I'm sorry it took so long, but it was hard to edit this part :') but we're getting closer and
closer to the recovery part!
Also, I'm sorry if my 'broken mind' imagery was consufing, I wrote it at 3am, so I was
not thinking straight at the time...
I'm sorry
Chapter Notes
Even from here, it burns brighter than daylight.
Even as Chuuya stays hidden behind the trees, he can still see the bright flames reaching
higher and higher, and dark smoke flowing up to the sky, concealing the blue warmth behind
a black veil.
Somewhere in the crowd that surrounds the flames there is Yuan, cursing the world and
crying her eyes out, there are Shirase's parents asking the gods for a reason why they've taken
their boy away so soon. There is Ino–san with her flowers and the rest of the village with
their silence.
Only Chuuya doesn’t stand among them.
The redhead stays away from the eyes that could recognise him, covered by the forest's
shadows that hide his presence from those who once felt like his family. He can't be there to
send Shirase away with the people he grew up with, he can't be there to beg for forgiveness –
he shouldn't even be here, so close to the place he was told not to go back to ever again, but
he couldn't not come.
Dazai and Ryuu told him it's a bad idea, they said he shouldn't feed his already broken mind
with more darkness, more gult, but they don't understand. Yes, he's broken. Yes, he's a
shadow of a human. Yes, he feels guilty. Yes, he can barely keep himself up or move. Yes,
he's all of that—
However, he's also a friend .
Or at least he used to be one.
He's tired from trying to piece his mind together the whole night, from all the crying and
screaming that filled his morning – it exhausted him, yes, but it also helped sort some of his
thoughts. And if nothing else, it made one thing clear.
Even if he's hurting, even if all Chuuya wants to do is drown himself in his sorrow and even
if his body is so weak it barely lets him lean against the tree without falling down—
He has to be here.
Maybe Shirase wouldn't want him to come, Chuuya wouldn't blame him for that, but it is still
the one selfish thing he allows himself to ask for.
Just one more time.

Just one more 'goodbye' that was taken away from them, ripped from their hands by the
world.
"I'm sorry." The redhead whispers, hoping his words can reach wherever his friend has gone.
"I'm so sorry."
He doesn't care if one of the siblings or Dazai are somewhere close, keeping an eye on him
and listening to his cires. They can do all of that if they so wish, it won’t stop the words from
escaping Chuuya’s heart.
"I'm sorry..."
'For not coming back when it was time, even though I knew you were waiting for me.'
'For not being there when you needed me, even though you were always there for me.'
'For hurting you and Yuan.'
'For letting you die.'
Chuuya is sorry for so many things his throat can't force out. For all the times he made fun of
his friend, for the times he laughed with Yuan at Shirase being scolded by his parents. For
being angry when there was no need to. For painting his friend's face with ink when the boy
was asleep when they were seven. For the fight they had just before Chuuya moved away.
He's sorry for working so much instead of spending time with his friends. He's sorry for
giving people reasons to spread rumours about him and for lying to Shirase and Yuan about
them being false while, in fact, the villagers were right all along.
Chuuya is sorry for everything, even if it's too late now.
His vision is blurred with tears – they never leave him anymore, his eyes never dry – but the
fire in the distance still shines brightly as it sends the dark cloud into the sky.
"I'm sorry." He places a hand over his mouth to muffle his words, even if he's too far to be
heard by the villagers. "I'm so, so, so sorry."
His legs finally give out under him and Chuuya falls to his knees, but it doesn't matter. His
eyes never look away from where his friend is being sent away, his body trembling with
emotions too strong and violent to keep contained inside his chest, all while…
It's a warm day, a very beautiful one. The sky is clear, save for the black smoke that never
reaches it, the wind is gentle and tasting of the coming autumn as birds are chirping their
songs. The world is bright today, but its light and warmth don't reach Chuuya. His body
shivers from the sole fact of being alive, his mind sees black with only the distant fire
burning through it.
"I'm sorry."
No matter how many times he says it, it's never enough, it never helps.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
He repeats it as a mantra, over and over again for as long as the fire burns his friend's body
away and into another life. He keeps repeating it when the flames disappear and Shirase's
parents start picking up his remains. Chuuya apologises until his throat hurts and his voice is
hoarse, until the funeral is over and the villagers start going back to their homes, their lives.
"I'm sorry." For not being there.
"I'm sorry." For staying hidden.
"I'm sorry." For letting you down.
"I'm sorry." For not facing my punishment.
"I'm sorry." For killing you with my actions.
…but even all of that can't bring Shirase back, because he's gone.
Forever.
Chuuya stays there on the ground between the trees for a while after everyone else has left.
Yuan and Shirase's parents were the last people to leave, and now it's just the redhead, his
thoughts and a circle of burnt grass that he can't see from here. He doesn't know how long it's
been, but it's not like it matters. If it's only a minute, it feels like a lifetime. If it's an hour, it
feels like a blink of an eye.
But he can't stay.
Even if he tried to, someone would come and make him go back to… the place he's allowed
to have, for now.
Standing up isn't easy, but he manages. He gives one more look in the direction that isn't his
anymore, one more tear falling down his face before he turns around and starts walking
deeper into the forest.
Maybe there is another pair of footsteps somewhere close or maybe there isn't. Maybe they
keep an eye on him or maybe they don't. Maybe Dazai is waiting for him to get back or
maybe he isn't.
Chuuya doesn't care, he won't ask, won't hope.
When the residence comes into his view as he leaves the line of trees behind, the redhead
stops. Why is he here? Why did he come here? Was he not told to go away? Was he not told
to leave—
Someone places their hand on his back and Chuuya remembers.

//You can stay here.//
"I'm sorry about your friend." Ryuu's voice rings at his side. "But it wasn't your fault."
Right. That.
They keep saying that. Chuuya's mind may even be trying to believe them, but it still doesn't
help. It doesn't make it any easier, or his thoughts less painful. But he won't argue with Ryuu,
the boy did nothing wrong.
Gin joins then as the redhead starts walking again, she squeezes his arm in a silent gesture.
Both siblings are too nice to him, too gentle with their words and actions – he doesn't deserve
any of it, but it's not like they'll listen to him if he tries to argue. They take him to the room he
left not so long ago, thinking he'd never get to come back…
How ironic.
"Do you need anything?" Ryuu asks as Chuuya steps inside, but the redhead only shakes his
head. "...do you want us to stay with you?"
Another silent shake of his head.
He doesn't want anything. He just needs it all to stop.
"...okay." The other says, slowly sliding the door closed. "But remember, we're here if you
need us."
Even after they leave, Chuuya doesn't move. He's standing in the middle of the room, staring
at the wall in front of him. What is he supposed to do now? How does one carry on with their
life after something like that? It's not like he has anything to do. His old life is over and his
work with it, the demons won't ask him to do anything anymore either, he has no purpose
anymore.
So… what now?
Chuuya ends up not moving from his stop at all, not until he hears someone knocking at the
door again. He looks over his shoulder, eyes on the wooden panels.
Ryuu? Gin?
Someone knocks again and the redhead turns around to face the door, but doesn't say
anything.
"Chibi?"
Ah. So it's him.

"...what?" His voice is quiet, but the fox should still be able to hear it. He always heard,
doesn’t he?
"Can I come in?"
Chuuya doesn't answer, he doesn't know. It's Dazai's house, he doesn't have to ask, so why is
he?
After a moment of not receiving any words, the doors slide open and the kitsune is standing
right there, holding a tray with plates and bowls on it. He doesn’t look annoyed or bothered
by the boy’s silence.
"You should eat." He says, but doesn't step closer.
Chuuya looks at him, at the food, and back into the red eye. "I'm not hungry."
Eventually, Dazai ends up coming into the room, slowly as if he’s ready for the redhead to
make him leave at any moment. "You haven't eaten anything in over a day."
"I'm not hungry."
The fox sighs as he places the tray next to Chuuya's futon. "You should still try."
The redhead watches him stand up again, but he doesn’t come closer to the food or his bed.
His stomach twists at the sole thought of putting anything in his mouth, his mind screaming
at him that he doesn't need it, doesn't want it.
"Why?" He asks instead. "It won't help."
"Because you do need to eat, little human." Dazai says. "Don't listen to your mind."
…don't listen to it? He's telling Chuuya to ignore everything that he's feeling right now?
Ignore his memories, the friends he let down and betrayed?
"So I should listen to you?"
Another sigh. "For a while, yes. Your mind is hurt, it's not thinking straight."
Is his pain not important to listen to? Is his guilt so insignificant to look past it? Are these
broken parts not worth anything anymore?
"But it hurts." Chuuya chokes out, his throat sore and tight.
"I know." Does he really? "But it'll pass."
Will it?
Should it?
"But it's my fault." He knows they keep saying that it isn't, but what if they're wrong? What if
the pieces are wrong and Chuuya is led to believe something that can never be true?
"No, it's not.” The kitsune doesn’t look away, keeping his voice firm without making it
sharp. “Listen to me."
Chuuya looks like he's about to cry again, but he probably doesn't have any tears left
anymore – or so the fox believes – and Dazai has to make him eat something. The hurt is
making the redhead irrational, and he needs someone to make sure he's not hurting his body
in all of this, not more than he already has.
When he started crying and screaming in the morning, Dazai thought he's making progress by
not keeping it in anymore, but now the human is back to being stubborn and it makes helping
him more difficult. The fox isn’t blind to the pain the other is feeling, he doesn’t belittle the
sorrow Chuuya clings onto but—
"It wasn't your fault." He repeats carefully. "Blaming yourself won't help."
—but he has to do something, even if he doesn’t know what Chuuya’s heart needs right now.
"And eating will?"
"Yes." Well, Dazai isn't actually too sure about that, not in the mental aspect, but it'll keep
Chuuya's body from falling apart and that’s a start.
"N–no." The other chokes out, shaking his head. "No, it won't."
The fox closes his eye for a moment, thinking about how to approach this. He wants to help,
he really does, but Chuuya isn't letting him, he's too focused on his grief to accept Dazai's
words. And the kitsune isn't exactly sure what to say to make him understand.
Dazai only knows of grief, he only knows of loss, but he's never experienced it, especially not
on the same level as the redhead, and humans are so much more complicated when they're
minds are clouded with sorrow. They’re unpredictable, they don’t want to see the truth,
fearing it won’t be what they wish for it.
He wants to help, he just doesn't know how, and Chuuya can’t tell him that, not right now.
"You have to listen to me..." He tries again, but the other only shakes his head more.
"No, it was... I gave him that ribbon, I caused it."
Dazai looks at him, trying to keep his expression neutral because it’s the only face he can
trust. "You didn't know."
"But I did!" Chuuya wraps his arms around himself, shaking and fighting for his breath. "R–
Ryuu told me and I forgot, but I knew."
On one hand, Dazai knows it's better if the redhead lets every dark thought corrupting his
heart out, but on the other… How does the fox make him accept his words, instead? What
does he need to say to make the human believe he did not cause it? There’s no point in letting
the pain be free when there’s nothing to replace it within Chuuya’s heart, nothing to heal the
wounds that are still open.
"And it still wasn't your fault."
How many times will he need to repeat it? How long do humans hurt after losing a friend?
What does he do to make it better?
"Y–you don't understand."
No, he doesn't. Dazai doesn't even know if it's possible for him to understand, but he still
needs to make Chuuya eat if nothing else.
"Chibi." He takes a step forward. "Let's talk about it later, you're not—"
"He's dead!" Chuuya chokes out, his voice strangled with pain.
Dazai is trying to be gentle, but he's not used to acting this way. He's not used to feelings, to
being compassionate – he only knows what's true and reasonable.
"Chibi." And sometimes that's a problem. "All humans die at some point, it's natural."
Because truth isn’t always the cure.
Chuuya is frozen in place, Dazai’s words schooling in all the dark and cold corners of his
mind.
It's… natural?
To be caught by a demon? To be tortured? To be killed in front of the love of your life? To

have your future stolen and for what? How can Dazai even say that?
"No." Chuuya says. "It's not."
He won't accept it, he will never believe Shirase's death was just a whim of nature. But the
fox keeps insisting and it's making Chuuya start to shake with something else burning in his
heart.
"It is." Dazai repeats. "He would have died sooner or later, you didn't—"
"And that's supposed to make it better?" The redhead can't believe what he's hearing, he can’t
believe how calmly the kitsune is. "Make it fair?"
Chuuya didn't expect him to understand, Dazai has no reason to be bothered by Shirase's
death and the redhead isn't trying to look for comfort, but the fox talks about it as if it's
nothing.
Because for Dazai... it kind of is just that.
He knows the boy was important to Chuuya and that the Chibi is in a lot of pain – he's not
trying to brush it off, he just wants to make the other realise that it would happen anyway.
What else is he supposed to say? That It was Chuuya’s fault? That maybe if Ace didn’t get to
him, that boy would have lived a couple more years?
"No, but..." And, in his clouded mind, Chuuya must be turning his words into something else,
into something bad— "...you couldn't have helped it, so you shouldn’t have to suffer for it."
—which is troublesome.
What Dazai is saying is the truth and this whole situation is, to the kitsune, irrational.
Chuuya won't listen, won't let Dazai help him in any way and the kitsune only grows more
and more frustrated. Why are they having this conversation in the first place? He just wanted
to make the human eat something, he wanted to show him he’s not alone. He’s trying.
"I couldn't have helped it?" Chuuya's voice grows stronger. "If I hadn't given him my ribbon,
I could have avoided all of that!"
"Chibi, you need to stop thinking about it."
Stop… Is Dazai insane? Did he come here to mock him? Because that's the only explanation
Chuuya can think of.
"I can't stop thinking about it!" There's a new kind of pain blooming in his heart, the kind that
burns so easily and with so much force the redhead didn’t know he had left in himself. "Of
course I can't! How can you even say that?!"
"Because thinking about it isn't helping you, or anyone else."
Dazai isn't raising his voice, but his tone is slowly growing harsher the same way it does
when someone… disobeys. He doesn’t mean it, but… Why is Chuuya trying to fight him?
"I'm not asking for help!"
It's fine if the boy is angry at him, but why now? When he hasn't even done anything and
when it's not about blaming him either. What is he angry about?
"But you need it." The fox tries again, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "So listen to me."
"No!" Can this human stop being stubborn for one second? "You're wrong!"
It's not how Dazai planned it, not like he hoped for it to go, but with every exchange their
words grow more heated. Chuuya is fighting his every request, every simple fact and he's
refusing to let the fox take care of him.
"I'm not and you need to calm down."
"Why?" The redhead hisses as he takes a step back, creating more distance between them.
"Because it's not important? Because it doesn't matter?"
See? He is making Dazai's words into more than they are, into something that feeds his
despair while the fox isn’t trying to hurt him.
"No, that's not what I—"
And it’s frustrating, Dazai feels helpless and he hates it. He only needs Chuuya to listen to
him for one second, to accept one, simple gesture and—
"Then why?!"
"Because it's too late!"
—and not turn it into a knife that’s meant to cut them both.
Dazai didn't plan for his voice to sound this cold, but here he is. "Because that human is
already dead and you can't change that. No one can."
Chuuya's eyes are blown wide, his body frozen in place at how sharp Dazai's words sound,
how deep they cut. Does the fox think he doesn't already know that? That Chuuya didn't see
his friend covered in blood? Didn't see his body burning away at the funeral? He knows he
can't bring Shirase back, he knows it's too late. Of course, he knows it all.
They stare at each other, anger radiating from Chuuya and frustration painting Dazai's red
gaze. The redhead is breathing heavily, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and he looks
ready to throw himself at the kitsune any second now.
‘Stubborn.’ Dazai thinks to himself, but fine. If Chuuya wants to argue, then they will.
If fighting with Dazai is what he's looking for, then he'll get it, because the fox is done with
trying to make him understand it the easy way. He tried to be gentle, but if what Chuuya
needs is a harsh reminder of how the world around them works, then the fox will have to
give it to him. This much, at least, Dazai knows how to handle.
...but a fight is not what follows.

Because Chuuya is angry, he is hurt by the other's words, but he doesn't want this.
He's tired and confused and—
And that's enough already.
It takes a fraction of a second for rage to fade away and for sorrow to settle in its place. It
takes no time for his eyes to be filled with tears again and for his sobs to break free once
more. His mind is exhausted, his body wants to crumble. Falling to his knees, Chuuya's hands
fly to cover his face as loud cries, louder than before, fill the room and Dazai…
Dazai watches it with a wide eye, unable to move and slowly being consumed by his own
guilt. Did… did he cause it? But he only meant to—
Ah, it doesn't matter what he meant to accomplish, because what he did was make the Chibi
cry. Again.
It's loud and desperate sobs that reach his ears and send needles right through his heart, sobs
that didn't need to happen but Dazai forced them out of the redhead. He made a mistake
because he let his control slip… but how does he fix it now?
He doesn't know what to say to make these tears stop. Should he leave Chuuya, or should he
stay just like last night? But if the redhead is angry at him, then won't that make things even
worse?
"Chuuya, I..." The boy only flinches at his words and starts crying more, shaking his head
and curling down on himself.
"D–don't." He chokes out. "Don't call me that."
There isn't any anger left in his voice, only sorrow and… is it fear that's tainting it? Dazai
stares at the small figure on the floor and tries to understand, but he can’t. None of it makes
sense, none of it feels right.
Why would he say that? It's his name, didn't he want to be called by it? Did Dazai make a
mistake somewhere along the line again? Was there something he missed?
"I'm sorry." It's the only thing that comes to his mind, but it doesn't stop Chuuya's tears.
"Chibi, I'm..."
Can simple words make it better, though? What else is there for him to do?
Something in Dazai's mind pushes him forward, urging him to move. The fox isn't sure if it's
the right thing to do, he doesn't know whether he's allowed to come closer, but… he can't let
Chuuya be alone right now. Not when he's hurting because of him.
The fox's ears are flat on his head, his tails low above the floor and timid in their movements
as—
"Chibi..." Dazai kneels on the floor, not too close to the redhead, but enough to reach out his
hand to stroke his hair, just like last night. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
But the trembling doesn't stop, the sobs won't go away no matter how many times the kitsune
says it. Maybe he shouldn't do it, maybe he's crossing a line that should not be ignored, but it
doesn't matter.
Both of Dazai's arms reach out reluctantly, they rest on Chuuya's head and back and…
Slowly, they pull him closer until the boy is leaning on the kitsune's chest, trembling but safe
in his arms. So small and delicate and so, so hurt.
"I'm sorry." Dazai whispers into the red hair as his head lowers and his hold tightens. He can
feel Chuuya trying to push him away for a short second, but it doesn't last. The hand that tried
to hit him is now clutching at his kimono as the human hides his face in the kitsune's clothes.
Dazai's tails wrap around them too, but Chuuya doesn't see them. His eyes are squeezed shut
and he doesn't want to open them, in case it makes everything go away. He’s afraid the world
he’ll see won’t be the world he feels, and the redhead doesn't want this to stop, he doesn't
want this feeling to disappear, even if it doesn't completely lessen the pain in his chest.
It doesn't make things right, but… it helps. Just the tiniest bit.
It warms the coldness of his mind, it softens the knives digging into his heart.
It makes Chuuya feel like he's not alone, like he has someone to listen to him, to be there, to
—
To hold him when he's crying.
Only now does he realise that it's everything he wanted. That it's everything that was missing
from his life. When hope abandoned him, when light turned dark and his mind fell into
thousand pieces – this is what he wished for.
Not forgiveness, not impossible promises about turning back time.
Chuuya wished for someone to hug him and let him cry it all out knowing he's not alone. He
simply didn't know how to ask for it, he didn't feel like it was something he should ask for,
but his mind craved this one gesture, this one moment of feeling close to someone while his
mind tries to force him into loneliness.
"It's going to be okay, Chibi." Dazai whispers into his hair and Chuuya doesn't know if he
believes these words, he doesn't know if they're true or not but, gods, he needed to hear them.
He never ends up eating the food Dazai brought him. Somewhere between his sobs,
exhaustion takes over his mind and body, gradually making the redhead succumb into sleep's
embrace, but it feels different now. He's falling asleep in Dazai's arms, he can feel the fox
holding him close and not letting go.
Like this, he can finally rest.
Another night passes as Dazai watches over the boy drowning in sorrows, but this time he
doesn't let go of the redhead, he doesn't lay him in his futon. Instead, he keeps Chuuya in his
arms, only gently moving him into a more comfortable position. His tails blanket the small
figure, making sure the human is warm, one hand behind Chuuya's back to keep him leaning
on Dazai's chest and the other on his head, fingers running through the hair that always
reminds the fox of an autumn sunset.
The Chibi doesn't stir, his breathing is even, much in contrast to last night when he'd wake up
several times, escaping from the darkness of his mind into the shadows painting the night.
His face is still red after days of shedding tears but, somehow, he looks more peaceful now as
the fox watches him sleep.
As a kitsune, Dazai doesn't need to sleep as much as humans – a few hours every few days
are enough – which gives him time to think about what happened and…
Dazai may not be familiar with experiencing emotions, but he's pretty sure the pain in his
chest is what they call guilt, honest guilt.
He has hurt Chuuya, more than once as it seems.
He has hurt him when the Chibi was already suffering, even though he didn't mean to. And
the problem is: he doesn't understand how he hurt him. Which words caused those tears to
fall? Which look caused this small body to fall down to the floor, trembling? How can he
make sure he won't do it again if he doesn't know?
That's one of the reasons why he thought letting Chuuya go would be the right choice, a safe
one – but how can he do it now when all his instincts are screaming at him to never leave the
boy's side ever again?
To keep him safe, to keep him happy. If that’s still possible.
Dazai wishes he knew how to make it happen, but his goal seems so out of reach.
Yes, he can make sure Chuuya is safe, but how is he supposed to make the bright smile he
remembers come back when he only knows how to make the human cry? When there’s so
much he doesn’t understand?
The kitsune spends the whole night thinking about it, but the answer doesn't come to him in
the end, and when the boy eventually starts to stir awake…
"Hm...?" The redhead blinks slowly, his brows furrowing as he takes his surroundings in.
Dazai loosens his hold enough to let Chuuya look up at him, but doesn't let him go
completely. "Hi, Chibi."
"Dazai?"
He looks a bit disoriented and the fox doesn't blame him, he probably doesn't remember
much of what happened with how tired he must have been, and if Chuuya asks him to let go,
then Dazai will give him space, but he wishes the redhead won't do that, not yet.
"How are you feeling?" The fox asks, not expecting any positive answers, but hoping for
something better than the worst possible.
"I'm..." Chuuya looks at him with confusion painted all over his face, but he doesn't pull
away; his hand is still tightly holding onto the other's kimono. "...I don't know."
At least it's not the worst answer. Probably.
"That's okay." Dazai brushes away some of the loose strands from the redhead's face. "Do
you think you can eat something now?" Because it has been almost two days since Chuuya
last ate and that's not good. But when blue eyes look down at the hand gripping the blue
kimono, the fox adds: "You don't have to move."
Sighing, Chuuya leans on Dazai's chest again, not finding enough strength to fight. "...okay."
The fox uses one of his tails to slide the tray with cold–by–now food closer and offers the
human a plate with rice balls. He doesn't want to make the Chibi sick by having him eat too
much at once so he doesn't rush him, only watches in silence and keeps his hands behind
Chuuya's back and on his legs, just to feel him close.
When the redhead is done, they still don't move, and this time it's Dazai who breaks the
silence that grew around them.
"Chibi?" He says as softly as possible. "About last night..." Chuuya tenses for a moment, but
doesn't say anything. "I'm sorry." The fox breathes out. "I didn't—"
"Can we not talk about it?" The redhead quietly but quickly cuts him off, and Dazai's brow
furrows.
"But we probably should."
"... please?"
Even the kitsune realises that they won't be able to solve anything if they don't talk it out,
but...
"Okay." Maybe for the time being it's better to listen to Chuuya, to let the boy calm down.
"We don't have to talk about it right now."
Hopefully, some day they will get a chance to talk it out.

For now, however, they'll stay quiet.
(And, as it turns out, they stay very quiet for much longer than Dazai expected.)
Chapter End Notes
They're getting better, I promise, they ARE, but they still have a lot to learn :')
Again, I'm sorry if switching POVs is a bit chaotic at times, but I need to show why both
of them are acting/saying these things so eh...
On the bright side, recovery arc is VERY close~

Small Victory
Chapter Notes
After the storm, peace settles around them again… sort of.
Chuuya is much calmer now, at least on the outside. He doesn’t fight the help Dazai and the
Akutagawa siblings are trying to offer, he accepts the food made for him without a single
complaint and doesn’t deny the fact that he does need to sleep and bathe. In any other
situation, Dazai would consider it a good sign, a sign of recovering, but he doesn’t. Not with
this.
No, the Chibi isn’t punishing his body for what has happened.
Yes, he is calmer—
But only because he barely says anything anymore.
No matter what the fox asks him, the answer is always one of the three: a nod, a shake of his
head or silence. Not a single complaint falls from the redhead’s lips, but neither do requests.
Chuuya doesn’t ask for anything and, most of the time, he doesn’t even seem to care about
the world around him.
With each day, the redhead isolates himself from Dazai and the siblings. Ever since the
funeral, he hasn’t shown any desire to leave his room – he only does it when he is asked to,
and even these instances come less and less frequently.
Not because the demons stop trying, no.
It’s because Chuuya’s lifeless nods slowly disappear and turn into empty shakes of his head.
He always opens the door to whoever knocks, always eats whatever he’s given, but… not a
single word is uttered, not a single glance spared. And on the very rare occasions when
Chuuya does step outside…
He does it alone.
It’s always only the engawa, only the wooden panels and the open door with the view of the
garden. Never a step past it, never anywhere else even if no one is forcibly keeping him
within these walls. If only the boy wanted to go outside, Dazai would come with him to make
sure he’s safe. If Chuuya wanted to go out and be alone, the fox would keep an eye on him
from afar – but none of it happens.
And unfamiliar with bringing comfort as Dazai may be, the fox does try to help, even if
Chuuya doesn’t ask for it. He offers his company when the redhead watches the forest turn
gold with the coming autumn, he offers to be there for whenever the redhead needs it, but
Chuuya doesn’t even look at him. His silence allows the fox to be physically close to him, but
it’s never more than that.
When Dazai’s tails reach for him, trying to bring some warmth into the otherwise cold
emptiness, Chuuya shakes his head or moves away without a word, and the kitsune knows he
can’t push. He wants to reach for the boy, he wants to wrap his arms around him like he did
the last time, but it doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to. Not anymore.
Was it only a one time thing?
Was he wrong in thinking Chuuya found comfort in his arms that day?
It may be so.
However, Dazia is a kitsune – for better or worse, he doesn’t give up that easily. Even if he
can’t touch the redhead, even if he can’t bring his body some of the familiar warmth, he can
still try to soothe Chuuya’s mind and replace its sorrows with life that still shines inside the
redhead, hidden but ever present. He can fill their days with something more than the
suffocating silence.
Or try to, at least.
It isn’t always easy, but Dazai talks to the boy who may not even be listening to his words.
Not about what happened, not about anything important – about the little things. How some
of the animals in the forest are already preparing for the coming winter, how Ryuu and Gin
almost burnt rice while cooking. He doesn’t know if it’s of any help, he can’t be sure it makes
any difference, but…
But what else can Dazai do?
There are times when the kitsune considers the possibility that he may be the problem, that
Chuuya doesn’t want him around. Then, he sends Ryuu or Gin to try and talk to the redhead,
or simply stay with him for as long as the boy allows them to, which the siblings do without a
second thought, but it doesn’t help either. Chuuya doesn’t tell them to go away, it’s just… it
seems like he doesn’t allow himself to admit they are there.
Or doesn’t want to admit it.
…is Dazai supposed to force him to talk?
Force him to see and face those trying to help him, force him to let the thoughts clouding his
mind escape from their darkness and spill into the world where the fox will be able to lessen
their pain? He could, he could try, but the sole idea of breaking past Chuuya’s mental limits
makes the fox’s insides twist. The last time he tried, it ended up terribly and Dazai isn’t
willing to let the story repeat itself. But then…
Should he continue to wait, instead?
It feels like the only option he has left, but… it’s not an easy one.
Not when Dazai can hear what the nights bring.
Chuuya doesn’t allow the fox to stay with him, he doesn’t answer when any of them tries to
knock at his door, but Dazia doesn’t need to see the boy when he’s at his lowest – he can hear
it. The muffled cries, weak sobs and sniffles echoing between the walls. They may be quiet
for humans but Dazai’s senses are sharp.
Sometimes the fox stays in his room, waiting for the morning to wipe the tears away from
Chuuya’s face, sometimes he sits by the redhead’s door just in case the boy does try to call
for him.
He never does.
But Dazai continues to wait.
He waits as days turn into weeks, as the world around them burns with gold and the wind
carries the promise of winter. He waits for a sign from Chuuya, for a single word or at least a
breath that would seem to be reaching out for help. He waits and waits and waits—
It's not until October nears its end that Dazai can finally hear Chuuya's voice again. It's not
the same as it used to be, it's not as lively and it’s much too colourless for a person who
shines brighter than the Sun above them, but it's also not as empty as on the day of that other
boy's funeral…
"I guess they didn't bloom." The redhead whispers one day, a cup of tea in his hand and eyes
set on the garden. It’s quiet, almost lost in the rustle of falling leaves, but Dazai doesn’t let it
be simply carried away by the wind.
How could he ever when these few words are enough to let the kitsune breathe again?
They lift the invisible weight Dazai has been carrying on his heart, let the air that has been
burning in his lung escape and be replaced by the freshness that hope brings. For him,
Chuuya’s voice is loud and clear, like the first note of a song Dazai’s mind has been waiting
to remember.
The fox tilts his head to look at Chuuya, ears perked up to make sure he'll hear everything .
"What do you mean?" His tails shift curiously behind him, slowly moving closer to the
redhead without the kitsune even realising it.
"Lilies." Chuuya says and it’s the first time in almost two months the boy offers Dazai an
actual answer instead of letting his question fade into the wide gap that grew between them.
"I planted red spider lilies here, they're supposed to bloom in late September…"
He planted…?
//I think it'll actually look nice once the flowers bloom again.//
Oh.
"...but I guess they didn't."
Did Chuuya not say this because he wanted to see the results of his work, but because he…
likes flowers?
Now that Dazai thinks about it, he isn’t surprised by it, he simply never considered it an
option before because he can never bring himself to care about such fleeting aspects of life.
They hold a certain kind of beauty, the fox acknowledges that, but he has never felt attached
to them in any way. For him, flowers are no different from the falling leaves, from the white
snow or the pouring rain – all of it passes and comes back, all of it lets the passage of time be
felt by those who are bound by it.
When Chuuya agreed to tend to the garden, Dazai thought it was because the human didn’t
want to leave the work half–finished. Then, after talking to him, he thought Chuuya wished
to stay just a bit longer and that seeing the garden bloom would be an extra reward, an
accomplishment, but now…
Maybe the kitsune underestimated the human’s heart after all.
Dazai looks at the garden, at the tidied up paths between rows of bushes the fox has never
cared to properly look at before. He recognises some parts, it’s still his garden, but Chuuya’s
hands have left it both so subtly and so violently different. Every small change catches his
eye, even if it’s covered by the fallen leaves blanketing the ground, and the fox can feel the
faint sting when the realisation washes over him because…
There are many things Dazai can do with his powers, many things he's learnt over the
centuries that he's been alive, but…he doesn't know how to make flowers bloom.
His powers aren't meant to be this pure, this beautiful.
He knows how to kill and not feel remorse about it, he knows how to destroy and enjoy the
ashes he leaves behind. The fox can trick humans and demons into his plans, just as his kind
has always done, he can take anything if he so wishes, seal away others’ powers if he chooses
to.
But he can't create life or beauty.
It’s not his power to hold, not for his hands to reach. No one is allowed to have it all, no one
is allowed to grasp all the secrets Nature hides from mortal eyes. There are those who can
heal fatal wounds, those who can bridge the past and the future—
But Dazai already has all the knowledge he is allowed to hold and bend to his will, and
commanding the flow of life isn’t among any of it.
However, there is someone else… someone who, while dangerous, chose life as their weapon.
That person won't agree to come here just because Dazai asks for it, it's one of the few spirits
that aren't scared of him, the spirits that the fox can’t simply command, but if Chuuya agrees
to go there instead…
"Chibi?" Dazai tries, prepared to be ignored just like every other time before today, but
Chuuya does turn his head slightly in his direction, not quite looking at him but it’s already
more than Dazai got for over a month, it’s already enough to urge him to continue. "Would
you go somewhere with me? Somewhere... a bit far." At least far for a human, even if they'll
be using a spell to travel.
Chuuya doesn't answer right away and the kitsune starts to think he won’t get a reply, but—
"Where?"
—he's glad to be wrong, this time.
"There's a place I think you'll like." Or so he hopes.
"...why?"
Is he asking about why Dazai thinks he'll like it or why he wants to take him there?
"Well." Or maybe it's both? "It's very… colourful there and—"
The fox hasn't allowed himself this much in a long time, but he moves one of his tails to
gently rub the redhead's back, his eye searching for any sign showing that Chuuya doesn’t
want it, but finding none.
“—it may help."
How exactly, he isn’t sure, but Dazai has this feeling telling him it’s worth a try. Plus, he
doesn’t want to sit around and wait, he doesn’t want to feel this powerless anymore.
"...okay." The boy doesn't sound interested in where that place is, the kitsune didn’t expect
him to. "When?"
"We can go tomorrow?"
They could go now, but it's probably better to let that person know beforehand. It wouldn't be
the first time Dazai shows up there unannounced, however, the circumstances are different
now and the last thing he wants is for it to turn into a fight, or for that spirit to turn them
away out of spite. Which, again, wouldn’t be the first time.
So… not today.

He'll send Ryuu later to explain everything, that should be enough.
"...okay." Chuuya agrees again, looking back at the garden while slightly leaning into the tail
behind his back, his body relaxing the tiniest bit.
It's not much, but it’s something.
A start.
A small victory on Dazai's part.
…now the fox only has to hope that Kouyou will find a way to help them, even if only a
little.
Chapter End Notes
I'm sorry it took so long, I was busy with uni and work...
It's a very short chapter because I cut it up wrong the last time 😆 the next one will be
much longer and we're offically moving to recovery arc~
Why?
Chapter Notes
When Chuuya wakes up, he doesn't expect anything. He hasn't been expecting anything for
weeks now, his days consist of just... existing.
Wake up, maybe get out of his futon, eat whatever the Akutagawas want him to, maybe go
out of his room for more than a bath and then sleep again. That's how his body has had
Chuuya spending his days; his mind, however, doesn't feel the flow of time anymore. It's
stuck in a never–ending cycle of trying to put the pieces back together and destroying them
all over again when the pain gets too much.
But it does it in silence, never letting the words of grief, anger and sorrow escape the
redhead's lips or the desperate screams for help shine in his eyes. He does remember how he
let it out once in Dazai's arms and how it did feel better at the time, but…
What if he's wrong?
There is no point in burdening others with his own problems, there is no point in looking for
comfort while all the glass is still shattered around him. He needs to keep it inside, he has to
find the answers himself.
Or so Chuuya believes.
But this morning – this day – isn't like any of the previous ones because today there is
something forcing him out of his room.
Well, he agreed to go, so maybe it's not exactly 'forcing', but it's also not something he'd do
on his own. If it was up to him, Chuuya would simply stay hidden away from the world for
the rest of his days. He doesn't have it in him to care about the things it has to offer anymore.
But as the morning wakes him up from yet another dreamless night, the redhead drags
himself out of his futon, puts one of the kimonos on – one of the ones he was given before, he
doesn't know where his old clothes are – and walks out of his room.
He doesn't know what time they're supposed to leave, but he doesn't need to. He can just sit
outside and watch the sway of trees until Dazai finds him.
Unless the fox changed his mind, that is.
Either way, Chuuya won't mind. He won't mind anything anymore, he doesn't have the right
to.
The weather has been getting colder recently and the fox gifted him a set of haori, but the
redhead never wears them unless someone reminds him. It's just a bit cold, just a few shivers,
it won't hurt him, it won't kill him. Enduring the cold is better than enduring whatever goes
on in his mind anyway—
"You should wear it, it'll be colder there."
—but Dazai always insists.
Chuuya can feel the haori carefully draped over his shoulders. He looks at the material, but
doesn't move to actually put it on, letting it hang loosely from his shoulders. They didn’t
agree on any specific time and it hasn’t even been minutes since Chuuya stepped outside the
house…
Did the fox hear him waking up and decided the earlier the better?
Or was he waiting?
When the brunette walks around him and into Chuuya's view, he looks at him with a small
smile the redhead can't reciprocate. Dazai is probably waiting for him to ask where they're
going and, to be honest, a part of Chuuya is curious, but the emotions overshadowing it are
too strong and too dark to let that curiosity matter, to let these questions slip out.
So the redhead stays silent and... waits.
"Are you ready?" The kitsune eventually asks, understanding that the boy doesn’t feel the
need to break the silence, and Chuuya simply nods.
Dazai steps closer, his tails closing around the smaller figure, but not quite touching him.
They create a barrier between the redhead and the world around them, a space he can only
share with the kitsune.
"The spell is similar to Ryuu's but it doesn't involve smoke as its carrier, so..." One of his
hands reaches out and rests Chuuya's arm. "...it may seem scary, but it won't hurt."
If the redhead was his usual self, he would probably be able to predict what Dazai has in
mind, but he isn't his usual self right now and the sight of blue flames swirling at his feet and
reaching higher makes his body jump in a natural reaction.
It seems that at least fear comes to Chuuya as easily as it should.
"It's okay." The fox tries to soothe him, now both of his hands resting on Chuuya's shoulders
and pulling the boy closer so that his face is almost buried in the other's kimono. "They won't
hurt, I promise."
It may be the first genuine show of any kind of emotion on the human's side in weeks, but it's
quickly pushed away as the redhead closes his eyes, pretending the flames aren't there. He
can't actually feel them, they’re not burning him alive, so not seeing the fire swallowing both
of them does help with calming down.
(Or maybe it's Dazai's hands and presence around him that does it? Chuuya wouldn’t know,
not yet.)
Like this, however, Chuuya can't tell the difference in their surroundings until a wind much
colder than what he's used to hits his back. It carries sounds and smells foreign to the redhead
– birds singing songs unknown to him, rustling of leaves that's similar to his forest, but not as
strong and ever–present as he’s used to. The air smells different, though Chuuya can't
pinpoint what exactly is so new about it, it just is.
"We're here." Dazai says as his hands move away and now Chuuya has to grab the haori and
put it on properly if he doesn't want the wind to claim it for itself.
He opens his eyes and sees that the fox took a few steps back, giving him a wider view of... a
hill?
It looks like any other, with grass covering the ground and trees scattered around the top.
There aren't that many of them and they're not too high either, so it can't be another forest or
an orchard. In the distance, at the bottom of the hill, there are small huts and fields full of
plants of some sort. Chuuya can't see any humans from here, but he assumes they're there.
Objectively, the view is nice and the redhead may have enjoyed it if he had seen it before, but
now it's nothing but a scenery full of life that doesn't reach him. A reminder of the life he lost
and the home he was chased out of.
Why did Dazai bring him here?
It doesn't make the shadows inside Chuuya’s mind worse per se, it's just... confusing to him.
There's nothing special about this place, so why—
"I must say that you announcing yourself is a new one." An unfamiliar woman's voice rings
from somewhere behind Chuuya. It's calmly neutral with only a faint teasing tone painting it.
"Can I expect it not to be a one time thing?"
As Chuuya turns around to face the newcomer, he hears Dazai huffing at the question.
"Don't count on it."
It doesn't sound like a friendly exchange, but it also lacks honest spite and, as it turns out, the
other person knew about their visit, meaning they can’t be an enemy so…
Just who is it?
Looking in the direction of the woman's voice, Chuuya soon realises it would be impossible
to miss her, even if she chose to stay silent.
The woman is wearing a traditional kimono with elaborate floral patterns – pink and purple
flowers falling off white branches stretching on the top to the dark bottom of her clothes, tied
with a deep violet bow at the front. Long, golden pins with pearl–white flowers hanging from
each are keeping her scarlet hair up in a bun, from which a long braid falls down on her
shoulder. She's covering half of her face with a dark–purple fan with white petals painted on
it, looking at Chuuya with eyes matching the colour of her hair.
If elegance and grace could have a physical form, the redhead realises, she would be just that.
Everything from the way she moves and speaks to how the air around her seems to shine with
unmatched beauty, making Chuuya stare in awe.
The human may not be able to see it, but it looks like she's smiling at him from behind her
fan, and the warmth in her gaze only adds to the already perfect image. As the woman comes
closer, Chuuya can see small, white flower patterns painted around the corners of her eyes,
curling lines that glitter in the sunlight.
"Rude as ever." She says, briefly looking at Dazai. "But I'll let it slide since we have someone
else here." She stops a few steps away from the redhead, lowering her fan and hiding it away
in her clothes. "You must be Chuuya."
Considering the fact that Dazai did let her know they would be coming, it's not too surprising
that she knows his name. He’s not sure how he’d normally feel about it, but right now he
doesn’t mind.
There’s something in this woman that makes him safe, or at least safer than he’d usually be
with a stranger. She seems kind, in a strangely glorious way and—
When Chuuya realises how much he's been staring at the tall and beautiful figure, he shakes
himself out of it, his eyes looking to the side. He doesn't answer, only nods slightly as to not
be rude to someone he doesn't even know but someone who feels like a nice person.
Though, she probably isn't human either, so there is no reason for her to care about him.
Right?
"Well, I've been very interested in meeting you, Chuuya." She doesn't seem appalled by his
silence. "I only wish it was in… better circumstances."
"Kouyou—"
"Shh, fox."
The redhead side–eyes Dazai to see his reaction because, as far as he knows, the kitsune
doesn't allow others to call him that, not often anyway, but his face doesn't show a single sign
of annoyance. It only makes the question of who this Kouyou is and how she's related to the
fox ring louder in Chuuya's mind, but it's still not enough to break through the pain keeping
him from using his voice more than necessary.
It's not his place to know, to care about the answer.
"Now, as you just heard from your impolite companion, my name is Kouyou, and this..." She
vaguely gestures around with her head. "...is my home."
Chuuya looks around once more, but he doesn't see anything he'd call a house around. It's just
trees and grass and open space.
"Do you like it?" Kouyou hums at him, smiling as if she knows something the redhead
doesn't.
He's not sure how to react, what to say – the view is nice, but it's not special in any way, not
compared to her. Plus, he hasn't been very responsive to anyone recently.
"...it's okay." He whispers, eyes falling to the ground.
"Just 'okay'?" Chuuya can't see it, but the woman arches her brows in amusement. "Well..."
She steps closer, the tip of her fan gently tapping under the redhead's chin and tilting his head
up.
"...how about now?"
Blue eyes look up to meet cherry–red ones and, for a second, Chuuya is even more confused.
He doesn't understand what the woman means, they're still in the same place so why would
his opinion change?
That's when another sharp blow of wind makes him shut his eyes as it fills his lungs with the
smell of… flowers?
When Chuuya blinks again, Kouyou is still looking down at him with a gentle smile, but the
sky behind her isn't just blue anymore. In fact, the redhead can barely see the sky because all
the tree branches that were naked just seconds ago are now filled with hundreds, if not
thousands, of cherry blossoms.
Sakura flowers.
In autumn.
Chuuya's eyes widen and his lips part when the fan keeping his head tilted leaves as Kouyou
steps to the side.
Every branch of every tree is filled with flowers that weren't there just a moment ago, flowers
that only bloom for less than two weeks in spring. Light and dark pink, white, some even
violet – a colour Chuuya has never witnessed on a sakura tree. None of the petals are falling
to the ground. Instead, they're flying in the wind all around the hill and… sometimes, it
seems like the petals come together in shapes of women dancing between the trees.
It's never for long, Chuuya catches a glimpse of them for a fraction of a second before they
fade away, only to appear somewhere else.
The grass seems to be brighter, sunlight shines through the flowers like a thousand sparkles.
Another blow of the wind wraps around the redhead, but it's warmer now, and it carries even
more flowers with it, the ones that look like gold.
Blue eyes follow the petals swirling around his body and when Chuuya looks up, he sees... a
woman's figure.
She's not touching the ground, her body floating in front of the redhead. He can't make out
her face because it is just gold petals, not an actual person, with a long ponytail swaying
behind her, but this time the figure doesn't disappear when the redhead gazes falls on her.
She reaches her hand out to Chuuya as if she's trying to offer him something, and the human
isn't sure why or what – her fingers are just petals, he can see there isn't anything inside her
fist – but he still offers his open palm to her.
When the woman's hand opens again, one golder flower falls onto Chuuya's palm, glistering
brightly as if it was made out of glass despite weighing less than a feather.
The flower figure then flows around the redhead one more time before the petals lose their
shape again, fading into the flying sea of pink and white all around the hill.
The redhead is left speechless and mesmerised and… not thinking of anything else other than
the golden woman made out of petals and cherry blossoms in his view.
He's too stunned to realise that his mind, for the first time in a long time, isn't trying to drag
him to the bottom of this dark, endless pit that it has become. It isn't overflowing with pain,
and regret, and guilt…
It's full of this sight that his eyes take in, of flowers and colours, of warmth and life.
Chuuya doesn't know it, but Dazai can see how some of the shine returns to the blue eyes that
lost their glow for so long, even if only for a moment.
The boy is so lost in watching the beauty before him, he's forgotten that he's not alone here
until Kouyou's voice reaches him again.
"Do you like it?"
But Chuuya's thoughts are still wandering among the colours all around them when he looks
at her. "Huh?"
The woman chuckles at the reaction. "The flower." She says, pointing at his palm. "Do you
like it?"
Chuuya blinks and looks down at his hand for a long time before his eyes return to Kouyou.
He does, of course he does, but—
"Why?" He asks quietly.
"Usually, that's called a gift.” The woman chuckles. “She must like you."
When the boy doesn't say anything back, she continues. "It's a flower that never wilts, taken
from the tree that has roots here but blooms in the gods' world. It'll stay as it is forever but..."
Kouyou reaches out her hand to tuck a strand of Chuuya's hair behind his ear. "...it'll only
shine when it's touched by a gentle soul."
A gentle soul...?
But it shines now ...?

//This is your fault. This is not your fault. This is...//
Cold chains of his mind start creeping around Chuuya's heart again, his throat suddenly tight.
It doesn't make sense, it must be a mistake, why would it—
"Dazai." Kouyou says, her voice neutral again. "How about you go take a walk, hm?"
The redhead can't see him, but the fox is probably furrowing his brow again, his frown is
more than clear in his voice. "Why?"
"So that I can talk to my guest, of course."
"I don't see why—"
"Alone." The woman cuts him off. "No harm will come to Chuuya, you have my word, but I
want to talk to him alone."
For a moment, no one says anything but, eventually, Dazai speaks up again.
"Chibi, if you need me, just call my name and I'll come to get you."
The redhead gives him a confused look before nodding slightly, not really understanding
what all of this means. The fox smiles at him one last time before turning around and walking
away with his tails uncomfortably still behind him.
"That fox is really clueless sometimes." Kouyou sighs.
Chuuya can't grasp the meaning of her words, but right now there are many things he doesn't
understand.
"Come, lad." She turns to him again. "Let's not just stand here all the time."
The redhead doesn't move right away, frozen in place with confusion and doubt, but still ends
up following after the woman, strolling under the cherry blossom. They walk in silence save
for Kouyou's soft humming and Chuuya doesn't know what it means.
What does she want to talk to him about? Why would she want to talk to him?
She doesn't know him and he's just a human—
"Do you like flowers?" She asks suddenly. The redhead presses his lips in a thin line, not
saying anything in response but nodding slowly. "They're beautiful, but so, so frail." There’s
a note of nostalgia in her voice.
Chuuya looks up, his eyes following the flowers dancing in the wind, and the words leave his
lips before he can think about them…
"How did you...?"

"I'm a sakura spirit." Kouyou chuckles, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her kimono. "I
can make them bloom anytime I want." She looks at the branches above them, then back at
the boy walking next to her. "But I can't make them stay, they're meant to live out their
beauty and fall once it's their time."
A pair of pink petal–women crosses their path, disappearing a moment later.
"...why show me this?"
It's strange how all the questions just leave Chuuya's mind without him agreeing to it. It's
strange how the words just... flow out after being chained to his throat for so long.
Kouyou hums, smiling at him half teasingly. "To show off?" But her voice turns softer as blue
eyes scan her face for the real answer. "That fox hoped it would cheer you up."
Oh.
That's what Dazai meant by a ‘place that would help’. Well, maybe for a second it did, but a
second isn’t enough to change the past. It’s barely enough to let him take a single breath
without feeling the pain that comes with it.
"But you don't know me."
And maybe that's why it's so easy to let his voice out – because to her, Chuuya is a stranger,
she doesn't have expectations, she doesn’t have any obligation to feel sorry or pity him.
"That's true. But my intuition is rarely wrong."
"...intuition?"
"I wouldn't let just any human witness this." Kouyou says. "But when I saw you, I felt you
would be able to appreciate it."
'Why?' the redhead's eyes seem to ask, and the woman sends him another smile.
"For the same reason why that flower in your hand shines so brightly." The statement makes
Chuuya halt. He looks at the spirit that stops not far away from him, remembering what she
said before and—
"But that's not true." He forces the whisper out. "I… I'm not that."
//You're a bad omen.//
//You sent them my way.//
"The flower doesn't lie, lad."

It must be, because this is wrong. It's a mistake, or a trick that's supposed to make him feel
better somehow. He won’t fall for it, he won’t accept the manipulation—
"Chuuya." Kouyou takes a step closer. "Souls are almost never black and white. This hurt,
this guilt that you're harbouring – these don't make you any less of a gentle person. They
prove you are what the flower indicates."
"You don't..."
She only says it because she doesn't know what he's done, she doesn't know what he ahs
caused.
"I don't understand?" The spirit raises her brows. "Then tell me."
And maybe Chuuya shouldn't. It's not like he knows her, they've only just met and there is no
reason for him to try and convince her, no reason other than the flower in his hand, mocking
him. Kouyou doesn't need to care about his past, the redhead doesn't have to share it and
yet…
Maybe it's exactly because she doesn't know him that it feels easier to let it out, or maybe it's
because the flowers are messing with his head – Chuuya doesn't know what it is that draws
his voice out, but he lets it happen. They're strangers, so it won't hurt if she hates him, if
Kouyou blames him for everything the same way he does.
The woman won't turn a blind eye on his faults just because she likes him like Ryuu and Gin.
"I'm not a gentle soul." Chuuya starts with a weak voice. "I killed people, I sent them to their
deaths."
It’s not something a gentle person would do, is it?
"I assure you, every demon or spirit you've met has killed a lot more souls than you. It
doesn't make the crime any lesser, of course, but do you think it makes all the people you've
met purely cruel?"
Does it maye Ryuu and Gin cruel? Does it make the time they spent on watching after
Chuuya a lie? Their actions nothing more than an act or a pretence?
…no.
He would never think that.
"B–but it's different. I tried to blame it on someone else."
"Oh my, that is indeed quite impolite." Kouyou doesn't seem to be bothered by it, though.
"Did it work?"
The redhead furrows his brows deeper, not sure why she'd ask that. "No." Why would it
matter? It doesn’t change anything. "But it made the person angry and—"
"Did you apologise?"
Huh?
"Yes but—"
Apologising doesn't erase what he did, it doesn't make his actions and words any less hurtful.
"Then you understood what you did wrong.” The spirit is calm, not a single note of doubt in
her words. “Trying to fix your mistakes instead of letting them be forgotten is a sign of a
good heart, lad."
"But my friend is dead!" Chuuya's voice comes out louder than he wanted it to be, but he
can’t stop it. "A–and I caused it!" Kouyou only watches as the redhead shakes his head with
pained eyes. "They keep saying it's not my fault but it was, it is..."
//This is...This is not...//
"Why?" Kouyou asks, patiently waiting for Chuuya to look at her again when the question
makes the boy freeze. "Why do you think it was your fault?"
//This is...//
"B–because it was."
"I'm sorry, Chuuya, but that's not a very explanatory answer."
The redhead is caught off–guard with her answer just as much as with her last question. No
one has ever asked him why he thinks that, they've only ever tried to convince him that it
'wasn't his fault', so it’s not like he has an answer ready right away.
But then again, should he even have to explain it. Shouldn’t it be obvious?
"Because I gave that boy my ribbon and I wasn't there when they came and..."
"Why did you give the boy your ribbon?"
Why is she asking that? What does it have to do with any of that? He just did and it killed
Shirase. What more is there to say about it?
"That's—" But her gaze, gentle as it may be, doesn't let Chuuya ignore her words. "I was
tired and…"
He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, he would never but—
"You made a mistake?"
Yes.
…but that's not it. That's not what's important here. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change
anything.
"It doesn't make a difference." Chuuya tries to argue, but Kouyou's eyes never waver.
"It does. A mistake is—"
"Mistakes don't leave people dead!"
It comes out as something between a scream and a cry, violent in its tone but with a breaking
voice as frustrated tears start to pool in his eyes, tears that Chuuya doesn't let himself spill in
front of the spirit, holding them back instead. If he cries, she’ll pity him, and he doesn’t need
that.
He doesn’t want that. Not from her, not from anyone.
"Oh, lad." The woman says softly, unbothered by his angry–sorrowful display. "But they do,
sometimes."
The redhead is staring at her with both frustration and a silent plea, unable to move or even
look away.
"Offering someone food they shouldn't eat." Kouyou speaks again, her eyes locked with
Chuuya's. "Pointing people in the wrong direction when they're travelling, or even something
as simple as slipping on the stairs when you're not careful. These are all situations that don't
have to end up badly, but they can."
She doesn't make any sense.
These are accidents that have nothing to do with what happened to Shirase.
"People can make terrible mistakes, mistakes they'll regret for the rest of their life, but they
will always stay just that – mistakes. Unfortunate events that you did not mean to happen."
She doesn't make any sense.
Chuuya knew the risks, Ryuu and Ranpo warned him, it's not the same. He knew, even if he
forgot at the time, even if he was tired.
"That's not—"
"Isn't it that wolf boy's fault for taking you to the Festival in the first place?"
"What?" Chuuya blinks in surprise. "No, of course not!"

"Isn’t it Dazai's fault for making you stay there in the first place?"
"No!” Now, the redhead can feel something hot starting to boil in his chest, a desperate need
to make her believe she’s wrong about this. At least about this. “They didn't mean any of
this!"
"And did you?"
Chuuya freezes immediately at her words, his eyes widening. Of course he didn't mean any
of this, of course he never wanted this to happen. He would never risk his friend's life.
"No, but—"
But he ended up killing Shirase even if it was unintentional.
That’s just a fact.
"I won't lie to you, Chuuya." Kouyou sighs, but her smile stays as gentle as it was before. "I
know most of the details of your story from Ryuu, so I don't need you to tell me what
happened. I'm simply trying to make you understand something."
But he understands!
She doesn’t.
"There were many past choices made by many people that led to this, and none of them
planned for your friend to die. No one except Ace. You say it's not the Akutagawas' fault
even though they were the ones who took you to the Festival and left you by yourself.”
She raises a hand to stop him when Chuuya tries to speak again.
“By accident, yes, but they did. You say it's not Dazai's fault even though he was the one who
introduced you to our world and he's the one that snake hated the most.”
It may be true, in a way, but Dazai also saved his life when he didn’t have to. He made sure
Chuuya was cared for while he was recovering.
“Lad, you haven't even blamed Ace yet."
Her words are gentle, but they pierce through the redhead's chest like a skilled sword.
"The only person you've been accusing of everything so far is you."
//This is...//
"Tell me, Chuuya.” Kouyou takes a step closer. “Do you really believe that you're the one
who should be blamed for it all, or did someone make you believe that?"
Was… was it never his own voice that would say it? But Chuuya can hear it so clearly in his
mind, it’s so familiar.
"Did you not try to save your friends once you realised what happened?"
Kouyou doesn't sound accusing, her words aren't meant to put the redhead on the spot. They
are forcing their way into his head but, somehow, they fit there.
"You're a human who went to a demon's lair because you wanted to help that girl and boy,
despite all dangers."
Wouldn't anyone do the same in his place, though? Isn’t it normal to want to help one’s
friends? See them again alive and safe?
"Isn't that what a gentle soul would do?"
His mind is a mess, thoughts swirling around and not letting the redhead hold onto any one of
them, not giving him time to process everything he’s being told.
"But..." Chuuya only knows one thing. "But Shirase is dead."
Kouyou takes another step until she can reach out to him with her hand, stroking his hair.
"Yes, he is."
Her hand is warm.
Gentle.
"It may never stop hurting completely and you may feel grief suffocating you for a long time,
but that's how it's supposed to be. It doesn't mean you're the one to blame—”
But…
“—it means that you cared about your friend and that you still do."
Chuuya's heart hurts, his eyes burn but it seems like the fog that's been clouding his mind for
so long is starting to fade. Not completely, it's still there and it's still dark between his
thoughts, but…
But he can breathe.
In his memories, the redhead can see his friend's smiling face, hear his laughs – he
remembers all the time Shirase forgave for everything. Maybe it's not the same, those were
simple pranks and not... not that, but the boy in Chuuya's past was kind and—
"Take as much time as you need to mourn, lad, but don't let the sins that aren't yours destroy
you."
—he wouldn't want to see him suffer.
Because Shirase was his best friend, and he would never do anything to hurt him.
It's not fair, it never will be, but maybe it's okay for Chuuya to try and find a way to rebuild
himself without choosing guilt as his core. Maybe it's okay to try to forgive himself. He will
never forget his friend, he will never stop regretting giving that boy his ribbon, but if there is
a path to learn how to feel alive again, then...
Maybe Chuuya can walk on it.
The voice is familiar, it always has been, but only now does Chuuya realise it isn’t his. He
knows it well, he grew up with it, but it doesn’t belong to him. It never has.
Just like the blame.
A soft material brushes his cheeks, wiping away the tears the redhead hasn’t realised were
falling from his eyes. The sleeve of Kouyou's kimono feels oddly comforting on his skin,
cold on his face that knew only salt and burning for over a month. He blinks at her before
taking a step back and trying to dry the tears with his own clothes.
"Sorry..." He murmurs between sniffles, glancing at the woman awkwardly. They've only just
met and Chuuya is already crying. Fantastic, truly.
"You don't have to apologise to me." Kouyou says with a relieved smile. "I have a feeling
you've said it enough times already."
The redhead doesn't know if 'enough' is the right word but… yes, he has said it many times.
The flower in his hand tickles, Chuuya doesn't understand how he hasn't crushed it yet, but
when he opens his fist, it looks just like back when the petal–lady gave it to him. Just as
beautiful but, in a way, lighter on both his hand and heart.
"Keep it." The spirit nods at him. "I said it's a gift."
"But what do I do with it?"
"Anything you wish. It can be a decoration for your room or you can make it into a hair
ornament. It can't be destroyed easily."
Chuuya is about to ask about the golden petals that didn’t seem real before when he notices
something new. The flowers that were dancing in the wind until now are slowly disappearing,
turning into sparkling dust and falling to the ground where their shine fades.
"Why...?"
The sight is almost as breathtaking as it was when they bloomed, but in a different, more
melancholic way.
"It's their time." Kouyou says, nostalgia returning to her words. "Their beauty may be
unmatched, but their time passes quickly, especially when it's not exactly their time to
bloom."
Chuuya watches how, even though the trees around them lose their colours, there is still so
much life radiating from them, so many promises to give birth to the beauty they lost again.
"Doesn't it make you… sad?" He asks the spirit. "That you can't make them stay?"
With a small chuckle, Kouyou shakes her head. "Not at all. I love watching my home bloom
when nature calls for it and waiting for it only makes the experience worth more." She looks
up as well, following Chuuya's gaze. "Because every year, I feel like they become even more
beautiful."
Neither of them speaks again as they watch the last of flowers fading into sparkling dust
carried by the wind, the hill looking the same as when the redhead first saw it. It's a pity he
couldn't appreciate it for a while longer, but... maybe he'll come back here in spring when it's
time. Maybe he can come with Dazai, Ryuu and Gin if Kouyou allows it.
Maybe he won't be a stranger to this brightness then as he is now.
"Thank you." Chuuya speaks again. He doesn't remember how to smile yet, but his face isn't
that of pure sorrow anymore. "For em... you know..."
"For showing you my home?" Now she's clearly teasing him, a light note that lets the boy
relax a little.
"That too."
"Well, then I hope one day you'll thank me with a smile, lad."
He can't right now no matter how much he’d like to, but... yes, in the future he'll be sure to do
it. Once he's ready to make it honest.
"Yeah, I'll..." The redhead scratches his neck awkwardly. "I'll try. One day."
Kouyou hums, taking her fan out again and covering her lips as she looks to the town at the
bottom of the hill. "Have you eaten before coming here?"
"Huh?" That's an odd question to ask all of a sudden, especially after everything else. "No?"
"That fox..." The spirit sighs. "But maybe it's for the better. They always offer too much."
They? What is this about?
"Someone is coming." Kouyou explains with a small laugh. "From the town you see down
there. They can't see me, but you will likely be invited for lunch."
Blue eyes look at the distant houses, then at the spirit again as Chuuya shakes his head. He
doesn't know anyone here, he only came because Dazai wanted him to, he—
"Can't I hide?" The redhead asks, glancing around. "I can't—"
"Do not worry, they're nice people."
But that's not the problem here. The problem is that Chuuya shouldn't be bothering strangers
in... in his current state. He shouldn't be bothering them at all.
"That's great, but that's not what I—"
"Experiencing new things is a good way to relax your mind, Chuuya. You can't lock yourself
up in the same four walls forever and expect things to get better."
She may be right but it's too sudden, too soon – he's not ready to take this step yet.
"I really don't think it's a good idea." Even his throat has already started hurting with how
much he's been talking today.
"Well, then you'll just have to trust me." Kouyou seems to beam at him before her eyes soften
again. "You're brave and strong, lad, and asking for help isn't a weakness, so don't fear it."
The redhead wants to argue, he wants to say that she should help him hide if it's not a
weakness to ask for it, but he doesn't get a chance to. Before he can even open his mouth
again, someone tugs at his kimono from behind and when Chuuya turns around, he sees—
"Who are you, mister?"
—a little girl with long black hair tied into low twin–tails with white ribbons around her
shoulders and blue eyes staring up at him curiously. She can't be older than ten, eleven
maybe. What is she doing here alone?
"I..." Chuuya furrows his brows. "You shouldn't talk to strangers, kid."
"That's not an answer." The girl says right away, then she sends him the brightest smile the
redhead has seen in ages. "I'm Kyouka!"
Great, she has a name, but why is she not listening to him?
"Listen, Kyouka." Chuuya kneels down, trying to make his voice sound serious while careful
not to startle the child. “My name is Chuuya, but you still shouldn't be talking to strangers.
Your parents will be angry."
She probably shouldn't be here by herself in the first place, even if the redhead isn’t new to
children sneaking out of their houses. He’s done it a lot himself in the past.
"They won't." Kyouka answers innocently. "You can't be a bad person, so it's fine."
A sigh. Why are children like this?
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do!" The girl pouts at him. "Bad people never come here, my mom says the spirit
guarding the hill doesn't let them, so you must be nice too."
Just like the stories about the kitsune living in the forest were passed down to every child in
Chuuya's village, Kyouka's town must have their own legends. Which is interesting in itself,
but not very helpful right now.
"Right." The redhead scratches his neck. He can’t really argue with that, he was talking to
that very spirit just moments ago after all.. "You should go home."
"Okay!" But just as Chuuya thinks it's over, that he somehow won, the girl takes his hand
before turning around. "You should come with me!"
She seems like a cute child and her smile would melt anyone's heart, but her words and her
actions remain a mystery to the redhead. A very troublesome mystery.
"No, no, no, you're not listening to me." Chuuya tries to pull his hand out of the girl's grip,
but she's not letting go that easily. "I can't come with you."
"Why not?"
"Because we don't know each other."
"I'm Kyouka." She points to herself, then to him. "And you're Chuuya–nii."
Well, she's not wrong but she's also not right, and the redhead doesn't know how else he can
explain. The town she was raised in must be a very peaceful and friendly one if she's this
comfortable with talking to a complete stranger, but it doesn't change the fact that he can't go
with her.
And that Kyouka's parents should really teach their daughter some important things about
life.
(Not that Chuuya wasn't the same when he was her age.)
"Your mum won't be happy if you bring a stranger home, Kyouka. She'll be very, very
worried."
"She won't!"
Oh, gods, children are really something else, aren't they? "And how do you know that?"
"Because..." The girl swings their locked hands. "...she always says I should help others when
they're sad."
Her answer leaves Chuuya speechless for a second, his eyes staring at the girl without
understanding her words. When he speaks again, his voice is levelled, cautious. "But I'm not
a sad person." It's a lie, but it's necessary.
Kyouka furrows her brows. "But you look sad."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because you look bad."
...oh.
Well, it's probably true, but how can children be so straightforwardly cruel when their voices
are so innocent?
"You look like my mum when dad got really sick." The girl continues. "So I know."
She's too perceptive for a child and just as stubborn. No matter how many times Chuuya tries
to tell her that he can't go with her, Kyouka comes up with a new reason why he should.
Because he looks tired, because her mum is a very good cook, because she wants to introduce
her cat to Chuuya… and she never lets go of his hand, her smile never wavers.
In the end, and with a few quiet words from Kouyou, the redhead gives up his fight, he'll
have no chance of winning against a kind and stubborn child. Plus, the spirit did tell him the
townspeople are supposed to be nice, so maybe he won't get beaten when Kyouka's parents
see him.
Or maybe just not too hard, who knows.
The girl is skipping down the hill as Chuuya walks beside her, their hands swinging back and
forth.
"Oh, I'll introduce you to my fiancé too!" She suddenly says, her eyes shining with
excitement and Chuuya is left baffled at her words because…
Her what? Isn't she a bit too young for that?
"His name is Kenji and he's really nice. But he doesn't know he is going to marry me yet, so
don't tell him about it!"
…what?
Chapter End Notes
Kouyou, my queen, has made her appearance and we’ll be seeing more of her in the next
chapter :3 I know, she’s giving them free therapy and I love her for it because they
NEED it
...together?
Chapter Notes
Watching the redhead walk away with a human Dazai doesn't know, and doesn’t trust, makes
something in his stomach twist unpleasantly. Even if it's just a child, his mind can't stop
thinking about all the 'what ifs'.
What if Chuuya gets hurt again when Dazai isn’t there to help him? What if the townspeople
make him cry? What if he doesn't come back?
The last time the kitsune let him— made him go was a mistake, one that can never be undone
no matter how hard Dazai would be willing to try, and with the consequences still tightly
tangled with his and Chuuya’s lives. He doesn’t sense any ill intent from the child and the
only non–humans around that he can feel are himself and Kouyou, but…
What if it will be the same as the last time? What if he’s making yet another mistake?
He stands under one of the trees at the border of Kouyou’s hill, a dark eye never leaving the
child leading Chuuya towards where more humans he doesn’t know are, towards more
possible dangers. His nails are digging into his arms through the fabric of his kimono as
Dazai forces his body not to move, to stay still and don’t let a single sign of his internal battle
show on his face because—
"I'm surprised you stayed."
—he knows Kouyou has been watching him all this time, both with her own eyes and with
her floral familiars; she didn't even try to be discreet about it. Her playful tone alone gives
away how the spirit doesn’t bother to hide her intentions.
Dazai doesn’t enjoy being mocked, he hates it when others are trying to see past his many
masks. It rarely works, not many are brave enough to even try, but then again – Kouyou is
one of the very few demons that aren’t scared of him as much as they should.
Which is, more often than not, annoying.
"Why wouldn't I?" The fox turns around with his face as expressionless as he can manage
and his voice teasingly neutral. Just his usual nonchalance, his usual self. "You sent the
Golden Demon with them, there is no reason for me to go as well."
Kouyou is sitting under one of the trees – as elegant as ever, even on the cold, autumn grass –
leisurely fanning herself and arching her brow at Dazai.
"Oh, really?” She muses, mock curiosity colouring her voice. “Is that why you're so tense?"
He is not tense. There is nothing for him to worry about, the town is close enough for Dazai
to get there in a second if needed, and the Golden Demon, even if the fox doesn’t like to
admit it out loud, is powerful. Maybe not as much on its own as it is with Kouyou around, but
enough to keep Chuuya safe until they get to him. It’s not a problem.
The fox simply can't see the redhead from here.
"Oh, I'm very much relaxed." Dazai sends her a sharp smirk before sitting down on the grass
not too far from the tree, close enough to have a conversation but keeping the town still in his
view. "Too many humans around for my liking, that's all."
Of course, the spirit doesn’t seem convinced. "Chuuya is also a human."
"Too many strangers around."
There is more in his throat fighting to be let out, but Dazai swallows his words. He won't
argue about how and why Chuuya is different even if he is human, he won't be explaining
himself to Kouyou, or anyone else for that matter, that's not why he's here. He's here because
he can't go back without the redhead, he can’t leave, so he’s waiting for him to return.
Entertaining the woman’s conversation is but a way to kill time.
"Oh my." The woman pretends to be shocked just to mock him again, displaying the act in a
way that makes it all too obvious. "Since when is this fox so bothered by a few mortals?"
She's clearly trying to get him to talk by playing on his pride, just like Dazai likes to do with
his own victims, but it won't work. She can't beat him at his own game.
"I don't need to be bothered to not enjoy their presence." The kitsune waves his hand at her.
"Stop looking for something that isn't there, lethal flower."
"Well, then…" Kouyou's smile widens, her voice almost too sweet and innocent. "How come
your little companion's presence is so... enjoyable for you? Like I said, he's also a human."
"Chibi isn't a stranger." Dazai states simply, trying to sound like he isn’t fighting to hold back
a snarl. "I don't mind having him around."
Which isn't a lie, even if the words taste somehow wrong on his lips.
"You 'don't mind', huh?" Kouyou's eyes don't leave him, her gaze carefully analysing his
every movement. The fox knows his body and how to control it, he knows she won't find
anything no matter how long she stares, as long as he doesn’t allow it.
Although it's not like he has anything to hide. Dazai simply doesn't like it when others don't
understand what boundaries are for, hypocritical as it may be for a kitsune.
"So you're not fond of him?" The woman asks.
The kitsune doesn't move, his face doesn't change as he speaks. "He used to be my servant."
But his mind growls at the question, for whatever reason. "I'm only looking after him."
His words are followed by silence, by a stare down between two demons – one with his mind
sure of his words and one with her gaze piercing through the thick mask, trying to glance at
not the fox’s mind, but his heart. It’s yet another part of him that Dazai keeps locked up, or
simply pretends it doesn’t exist, whichever works better at the time. It goes on for a while,
brief seconds stretching longer and longer until eventually…
Kouyou sighs heavily and puts her fan down, giving up on keeping her act. "You two are very
similar, neither of you likes to actually answer my questions."
"Then maybe you should stop asking them."
Dazai isn't blind, or stupid, he can see that their visit here managed to help Chuuya regain at
least some of the shine in his eyes and he is grateful for it. Truly. He doesn’t know how
Kouyou did it, which string of the redhead’s heart she played at, but he only cares about the
end result, about the boy getting better.
And that's all he needs. Dazai doesn't need, or want, Kouyou to interrogate him, his mind
doesn't need help.
(It does, however, need directions.)
"You came here for a reason." The woman points out with no hesitation. "And you only
accomplished half of it so far."
"I believe I accomplished everything I could. The rest depends on whether Chibi gets better."
Not when, but…
Whether he'll recover.
Whether he'll smile again.
There is no guarantee that his talk with Kouyou was enough, there is no guarantee he'll go
back to the person Dazai remembers. The conflict with Ace, brief as it may have been,
changed Chuuya, some parts of him may never come back, never heal. But if only he can
move one, if he can learn to look forward to the future as he once did—
"Oh, he will." Her confidence seems genuine and it lights up a sparkle of hope in the kitsune's
chest, moments before her words start to cut again. "But I can't say the same about you."
His eye flashes red for a second before Dazai takes control of his emotions again. "I'm fine."
"You don't seem to be."
"Maybe you're imagining things."
His words are followed by another long silence, one that only the wind's whistle fills at the
two of them don't even move. They keep smiling at each other, sharp and anything but
honest, but their expressions are not the same. Dazai's smirk is nothing but a mask he's used
to putting on so that others won't be able to notice the thoughts that bloom in his mind, while
Kouyou...
Her smile is that of a person who doesn't need to hear the words to know the truth, a person
who can't be fooled by simple tricks of someone who doesn’t even realise what he’s hiding.
"You should know it by now, Dazai." The spirit's voice rings with the same confidence as it
did before. "There are things I can see even if you try to hide them."
"Oh?" The fox tilts his head. "But I'm not hiding anything."
"You are. You just don't know it yet."
"And what makes you say that?" His voice never betrays him, his body always listens – it's
impossible for anyone to get into his head, so whatever Kouyou thinks she sees, isn't there.
Or so Dazai believes.
It's not until he hears her next words that his mask slips for a moment shorter than a heartbeat
and his eye widens in disbelieving surprise.
"The fact that you're here."
It's a simple answer, too simple to understand what she means by that. He's been here several
times in the past and his visits always had a purpose, but there is nothing more to them than
that. They don't have a second meaning.
"Excuse me?" The fox says, confused and trying to sound like, out of the two of them, it’s
Kouyou who is talking nonsense. "I'm here for Chuuya, not myself."
"Exactly." Kouyou sighs again, as if what she's saying is supposed to make some sort of
sense. "You never seek anyone's help and yet here you are. You even sent your boy to make
sure I'd know about the situation in advance."
"These are special circumstances." Dazai says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Explaining it in
front of Chibi would only make things worse."
That much should be obvious.
"You're doing all of this for a human who isn't even your 'servant' anymore.” Kouyou
continues, determined to make her point. “He is not your responsibility."
Well, that is true, but…
"He was still in my care when it started.” Dazai narrows his eye at her. ”Plus, his human
friend told him not to go back, of course I'm keeping an eye on him to make sure nothing bad
happens."
"Why are you here, then? Arguing with me, while he's somewhere else?"
The fox rolls his eye. "I already said there's no—"
"Dazai." Kouyou cuts him off, her voice firm and unwavering before it softens into that full
of poisonous honey, sweet and dangerous. "When have you ever trusted my Golden Demon?
Or when was the last time you actually chose to indulge me with a conversation instead of
walking away the moment you didn't like it?"
The kitsune stares at her, not saying anything and just thinking the spirit’s words over.
And the worst part is that, deep inside, he knows she's right.
Dazai doesn't trust anyone unless he absolutely has to, the Golden Demon is no exemption to
that rule, and he never wastes time for arguments he won't gain anything from. Nothing is
keeping him here, up on the hill while Chuuya is down there, and this whole conversation has
only managed to get on his nerves so far.
He knows all of that and, yet, he's still here.
Something is making him stay instead of going after Chuuya and making sure he's unharmed,
something is making him reply to Kouyou's absurd accusations instead of ignoring the spirit
as he usually would, as he did in the past.
And the fact that she is the one to point it out is irritating.
"I don't need you to tell me what I'm feeling." The snarl escapes his mind, but it's not
something Dazai regrets, he was never the polite one between them. Although, letting his
mask slip even further isn’t exactly making him feel better either.
"Oh, I think you do." Kouyou chuckles at him, chuckles in the face of danger she so easily
ignores. "But whatever you say, fox. Feelings aside then, what else is bothering you?"
Well, at least that’s some kind of a victory on his part.
Dazai's tails sway uncomfortably behind his back. He's not used to this, he doesn't like
appearing less informed about anything, less aware of both himself and the world around him
– not in front of Kouyou, or his friends, or anyone for that matter. That's just not who he is.
But this one issue is something that he just can't seem to find a solution to. He has tried over
and over again, and he sees nothing.
The fox looks to the side, fighting with his mind and pride but, eventually, he gives up on the
act. "I don't understand something."
"Yes, clearly." Kouyou chuckles from behind her sleeve and Dazai sighs, annoyed.
Maybe it's a mistake, maybe she won't be able to help him like she helped the redhead and
the fox is just wasting his time.
...but he still has to try.

"He won't let me call him by his name." He mumbles under his breath, a part of him hoping
Kouyou won’t hear it and that the conversation will end as if it never started in the first place.
Of course, that’s not what happens.
The woman's brows rise high as she blinks in surprise, not having expected something like
that. "He was fine with me doing it."
"I know." Dazai huffs, not sure whether he’s annoyed with her or with himself. "Ryuu and
Gin call him that all the time but when I did it, he..."
He was shaking, crying, sobbing.
"...told me not to do it."
"I'll need the full story if you want my help." Kouyou crosses her arms on her chest when the
kitsune looks at her with confusion and doubt in his eye. "Traumas aren't just a part of a
human's personality, fox, they are caused by something that has happened along the way."
Dazai frowns. "Why do you think it's a trauma?"
"The only other explanation would be that he hates you, but—"
His body tenses at her words and his blood turns cold. He has always known it's an option,
he has always known Chuuya would have reasons to hate him, but hearing it from Kouyou
feels… like it’s too real of a possibility.
“—that doesn't seem to be the case.” Oh. “So there must be something else and I need to
know about it."
That statement lets Dazai relax a bit before he starts searching in his mind for anything that
Kouyou may find helpful. Was there anything...? But when? So much has happened in the
past months.
"He told me to call him by his name and I did." The fox murmurs, hurtful memories coming
back to him before he can push them away. "But then he said he doesn't want it anymore."
Well, it wasn't on the same day but it happened in that order.
"It doesn't make sense." The woman says. "So you must be missing something important.
When did he ask you to call him by his name?"
"...before?"
Why does it matter? He did and then he didn't.
"In what circumstances, fox?"
That isn't something Dazai wants to talk about, or even remember for that matter. If it was up
to him, he'd let that night disappear into the past, never to be spoken about again. Especially
since it’s not only his story to tell, Chuuya’s past played an equally important part in it, and
the kitsune isn’t sure the redhead would want him to tell anyone about it. But if bringing it
back will help, then maybe…
"We had an argument." He says briefly.
Kouyou narrows her eyes slightly, looking for the whole truth. "You fought?"
"Yes."
"And he was angry that you weren't calling him by his name?"
Well... That wasn't everything, it certainly didn’t start the argument, but it played its part.
"More or less."
"Dazai." Kouyou sounds patient, almost patronising with how carefully she's navigating the
conversation. "How did that fight end?"
With boiling frustration, with anger and regret, with Chuuya crying because of him – that’s
how it ended.
Dazai doesn't want to share any of it with Kouyou, or with anyone, because surprisingly
enough it feels too personal. It's something that happened between him and the redhead, and
no one else. And Chuuya isn’t here to tell him whether it’s okay to share it, but again… if it
can shine even the faintest light on his problem, then maybe it's worth it.
Just this once.
Reluctantly, the fox tells her about the night he came back from dealing with Ace's army, he
tells her about Chuuya and how that one conversation turned their whole relationship around,
how Dazai was the first one to tell the redhead he should go away, both in the heat of the
moment and after the fire has already settled.
Kouyou doesn't interrupt him, she's listening to every word until the kitsune falls silent and—
"I can't believe I have to help you with something like this." She shakes her head before
looking Dazai in the eye and now her voice does sound like an accusation. Like she’s made to
point out something too obvious to even mention. "You scared the boy."
…that’s all she has to say? Really?
"I know." It's not like the fox is completely unaware of human emotions, he knows very well
how his words and actions left Chuuya back then, but it's in the past and Chibi doesn't seem
to be afraid of him anymore. "But he's fine when I talk to him now." Well, as fine as he can
be in his current state. "So why would it matter?"
"Because humans are easy to scar, even if their wounds close." Kouyou's words pierce
through Dazai's soul, uninvited and violent in their eyes–opening honesty. "Even if Chuuya
isn't afraid of you, his mind must still remember the first time you called him by his name
and everything that came with it. It's trying to defend itself from bad memories."
Defend itself? Bad memories? Dazai… scarred him?
He knew it left the boy hurting and that it would take time for him to recover but... was the
damage really this bad? It was never his intention. Chuuya looked so angry and demanding
about being called by his name at the time, and Dazai just went with it. He didn’t think too
much of it.
The kitsune stays quiet, thinking over the spirit's words as his frustration fades away until
only confusion and regret remain. As he's trying to put it all together....
Didn't Chuuya flinch back when Dazai called him by his name the day before the Festival?
Was that the reason, not the remaining fear of having his past crime brought up? But if
Kouyou is correct, then how can he make it right again? How does he go about undoing what
has already been done?
His tails are on the ground, unmoving, and his fox ears stay hidden in the brown locks, flat on
his head, despite the kitsune trying to appear unbothered.
"...I didn't plan for this to happen."
"I'm sure you didn't." The woman offers him a pitying look, one that Dazai would not
normally accept but doesn’t care to argue with. "However, your plans aren't important here –
only the consequences of what has happened are."
Unfortunately, even Dazai cannot argue with her statement. As much as he hates to admit it
—
She's right.
"So what do I do now?" He mumbles, pushing his pride aside again in order to get a grasp of
a solution, of a way out of his mess he created.
It would be a perfect opportunity for Kouyou to laugh at him, to make sure the fox will never
forget how he asked for her help twice in one day and, on top of all of that, for help with
something that – after he realises it – is obvious. But the woman doesn't make fun of him, her
tone isn't that of someone grasping a new opportunity. No, her voice is kind, kinder than
Dazai has ever heard her speak to him.
"Talk to him." She says. "This can only be solved if you both try to make it work."
"...but Chibi said he doesn't want to talk."
"Then try again." She makes it sound so simple. "Once he heals a little, it'll be easier. I'm sure
a part of him doesn't want to harbour these fears any more than you want them to be there."
Dazai huffs at her, but it's mostly a way of him denying his own feelings rather than the
spirit’s words. "And how do you know that?"
Maybe it's his face, or maybe the stubborn tone – whatever it is, the woman chuckles at the
fox, amused sparkles dancing once again in her eyes.
"Because you two are too similar to each other."
It's all the explanation he gets and it doesn't make much sense to him just yet, but Dazai
doesn't ask for more. It doesn't feel like something he'd understand even if it's given to him
on a plate. There are things he has to see for himself in order to accept them.
(And he will, when Chuuya shows him.)
They stay quiet for a long time after that, simply taking in the sunlight and the fresh wind as
they're waiting for the redhead to come back. Afternoon slowly turns into night when Dazai
hears footsteps in the distance, accompanied by the Golden Demon's presence. He's getting
up from the grass when Kouyou asks him one last question.
A question that the fox wishes he could dismiss easily.
"Do you think it was just Ace?" Her tone is the most serious it has been for the whole day.
"That snake was never the one to attend the Festival."
The kitsune looks her in the eyes, thinking over the answer he hates to admit. "I didn't sense
anyone else, but… No, I don't think it was just him."
That would be too much of a coincidence, even fate isn't this cruel and accurate in its course.
But it's also true that he didn't feel anyone else's presence, and demons’ scents aren’t easy to
conceal, which means—
Whoever got Ace to act, It's someone dangerous.
As it turns out, Chuuya was wrong and Kyouka was right: when they get to the girl's house,
her parents are not angry. Not in the slightest.
They're confused, rightfully so, but they quickly catch on to what has happened, which leads
the redhead to believe this isn't the first time Kyouka is bringing a complete stranger home. It
makes Chuuya wonder to himself how many times it must have happened for her parents’
reaction to be this tame and quick.
They seem like nice people, they welcome Chuuya into their home without any questions and
they even apologise to him for their daughter’s actions. There's no suspicion in their words or
eyes – as if the thought that he may have ill intentions hasn’t even crossed their minds – only
pure gentleness.
The redhead offers to be on his way, he says that he only wanted to make sure Kyouka got
home safely, but that helps him realise how similar the girl is to her parents. Or rather, who
she got her… helpful characteristics from.
Because they aren't letting him go either, not without a meal anyway.
Her mother insists she can't let someone 'as pale as him' simply walk out of their house while
the father is already bringing out an additional pillow for Chuuya to sit on. The boy isn’t sure
what to say, he doesn’t want to intrude like that and he still doesn’t feel like pretending to be
okay. But, in the end, he can't refuse their kindness, not when it's offered so genuinely.
So, at least for a while, Chuuya stays.
They seem like a happy family and their house soon fills with the smell of food and the sound
of laughter.
In a way, Chuuya feels guilty to be accepting all of this because he can't offer his smile back
to them. Even if he tries, he can't be sure that his muscles are listening to him, he can't be sure
his face is actually showing his gratitude, but no one comments on that.
Kyouka's father tells him stories from their life while they’re waiting for the food. How he
met his wife and fell in love, about how adorable their little girl is, how he got very sick one
time and didn't think he'd make it but, somehow, he did. Her mother adds a comment here or
there, or corrects her husband when the man gets something wrong. And she doesn’t accept
any offers of help with cooking – she doesn’t want Chuuya to be poisoned by her husband’s
terrible cooking, she says.
At some point, Kyouka runs out of the house only to come back with a boy following her
with a smile and a white cat in her arms.
The boy – Kenji, as Chuuya is soon told – is just as bright and straightforward as Kyouka. He
asks the redhead all kinds of questions: where he's from, what he's doing here, does he like
animals and what his favourite food is. The redhead answers every question the best he can,
making up excuses about travelling through the area because he can't say he's here to visit a
sakura spirit with his kitsune… companion? Caretaker?
Who is Dazai to him exactly…?
Anyway—
The townspeople may believe in Kouyou's presence to the point of not being scared of
strangers at all, but Chuuya isn't too fond of testing the limits of their faith. He doesn't want
them to think he's crazy, so he keeps the more important bits to himself.
Kenji doesn't leave, he eats with them and Kyouka makes sure to have him sit next to her,
which knowing her 'future plans' is quite adorable. Her cat, Snow, settles on Chuuya's lap,
curling in a ball of white fluff and purring loudly when the redhead pets her fur.
It's all so… weird.

This kindness that isn't exactly new or foreign to Chuuya, that feeling of domestic happiness
surrounding his high, cold walls is something that he used to know. He doesn't remember his
mum, but his dad, before he passed away, always made sure their little hut would be the one
place they could always be happy. Even if they didn’t have much, even if some winter nights
were colder than others – none of them seemed to mind.
After his death, Chuuya thought he had lost it.
His home started to feel empty and cold, and spending time there only made it worse with all
the memories of the past that he couldn't go back to. He was a child, a barely 10–year–old
boy, who didn't understand why his dad wouldn't wake up, why they had to burn his body. He
was sad and scared, he lost the safety he once cherished in the place he called his home.
…but then, he found it again.
Not in the same place, not in the hut that was his but also didn't feel like it anymore, but
somewhere else. He was taken to a man his uncle called a 'family friend', away from the
village and everyone Chuuya knew – a man that managed to give him a second home.
It took time, it took many nights of crying and shouting and a few attempts at running away
before happiness stretched its arms to Chuuya again and before he accepted it. But,
eventually, he did.
And, then, that place he thought he resented became his safe space, the man he thought was a
stranger became his uncle. It wasn't as loud and lively as here, with Kyouka and Kenji
bombarding Chuuya with questions and stories and the girl's parents constantly laughing in
the background, but it was everything the redhead needed.
The man looking after him was calm and gentle, he took care of Chuuya until the boy
decided to go back to the village on his own and he didn't try to stop him. He would always
support the redhead's decisions, as long as they wouldn't bring too much trouble to them both,
of course.
His uncle always understood, he was always there for Chuuya when he cried.
It seems strange to be thinking back to those times while the redhead is here, not even
knowing where 'here' is exactly. It's been years since the last time he went to visit, months
since he last sent a letter, but spending the whole afternoon with Kyouka and her family made
Chuuya remember it again and…
And it made him miss his past, miss that place and that man.
As the redhead walks up the hill to where Dazai must be waiting for him with Kouyou, a new
thought is trying to shine its way through the darkness of his mind. He isn't sure whether it's a
good idea or even if the fox will allow it, but maybe he can at least ask. Because…
Why wouldn’t Dazai agree, anyway?

"Welcome back." Kouyou's voice greets him, gentle and soothingly quiet. "Did you have a
nice time?"
She and Dazai are standing next to one of the trees, both looking at Chuuya with different
expressions painted on their faces: Kouyou with soft but knowing eyes, and Dazai with
something akin to… worry? But it fades quickly, replaced by his usual, neutral smile. The
redhead looks between the two, searching for an answer.
…did he have a nice time?
They were good people, yes, and he knows it should have felt nice, but it's a feeling Chuuya
hasn't yet found in the ruins of his heart's library. He knows it's there, it used to be there—
But where?
How does he read these feelings again?
"It was… lively." Chuuya says instead.
It wasn't bad and Kouyou seems to understand that, even if Dazai can only arch his brow in
confusion.
"Ah, yes." The woman chuckles. "Little Kyouka is full of energy."
She and Kenji both, if you ask Chuuya, and her parents as well. Everyone down there was
beyond full of energy, in a good way, even if a little exhausting for the redhead’s current state.
"It's getting late." The kitsune says, walking closer to him when Chuuya doesn’t offer
Kouyou any further comments. "Do you still want to stay or...?"
"It's fine." The boy murmurs back, wrapping the haori around himself just a little tighter to
keep warm. Now that his mind is somewhat clearer, his body seems to register the cold more
than it did before. "We can go back."
Chuuya bows politely, thanking Kouyou again when she says her goodbye and reminds the
redhead that, in an indirect way, he promised to come back one day.
Before they go, Chuuya is granted one more, very unusual scene to witness. He's already
stepping closer to the fox and mentally preparing himself to be surrounded by blue flames
when the spirit calls out to them.
"Oh, and fox?"
Blue eyes look at Kouyou, but as the air around them seems to shine with gold, the redhead's
gaze moves to follow the petals dancing around them, reaching higher and higher until…
Has the golden petals lady just flicked Dazai's forehead?
"Do remember to have Chuuya eat something before you take him away somewhere again."
The kitsune seems as surprised as Chuuya, if not more, his one eye wide for a second before
he huffs at the woman and swings his tail through the petals, making them disappear once
again.
"Goodbye, lethal flower."
"Goodbye, fox." Kouyou chuckles from behind her fan. "See you soon, Chuuya."
Just as her words reach the redhead, Dazai's hand settles on Chuuya's arm and the fox's tails
move to wrap around them both before blue flames light up at their feet. The experience isn't
as nerve wracking as it was the first time, but calling it comfortable would be a lie. It doesn’t
burn, Chuuya knows and feels as much, but seeing himself practically on fire is still
something the boy needs to get used to.
Familiar sounds surround them only seconds later as the smell Chuuya knows like no one
else fills his lungs. The forest that knows him, the residence he grew to know, and Ryuu and
Gin waiting for them in the garden. Thei—
Dazai's home.
They’re back.
"Are you tired?" The kitsune takes a step back, but his hand lingers on Chuuya's arm for a
moment more before sliding away. The boy takes a breath of familiar air, trying to put his
thoughts in order because…
Physically? He actually is tired, this was the most he's moved around in over a month, so yes,
his body is on the verge of being downright exhausted. But mentally…
His mind isn't exactly calm or numb, but it is quieter than before. Not as sorrowfully violent,
not as painfully reminding him of the words that, now he knows, weren't his. Some of the
needles have lost their sharpness, some of the chains have crumbled and left Chuuya’s heart.
Not everything, that would be asking for too much, but it’s… more bearable.
"A bit."
Chuuya doesn't say anything right after, his mind struggling to form a sentence that would
make the thoughts he’s trying to voice sound right, and Dazai looks like he wants to say
something but, for some reason, can't. Or won’t.
They don't move, blue eyes looking to the ground and the kitsune's red one never leaving
Chuuya's face. Normally, the redhead would just… walk away now, like he did so many
times before in the last weeks, but he doesn't, not yet. He knows that if he walks away, it’ll
only be more difficult to find the courage to ask.
"Chi—"
"Da—"
They both stop at the same time, falling silent once more and waiting for the other to say
something.
"Yes?" Dazai is the first one to speak again, tilting his head slightly and smiling at Chuuya to
encourage him to continue. It's been so long since the last time the redhead spoke to him on
his own, since the last time he called the kitsune's name.
"I..." Chuuya clears his throat awkwardly. "Thanks for taking me there."
He knows what he wants to say, but not how to say it, which words to use. He knows what he
wants to ask for, but a part of him doesn't want to hear the answer, afraid that it won't be the
one he wishes for.
"Of course." Dazai says softly. If Chuuya looked more closely, he would see the other’s
shoulders relaxing. "Did it help?" There's a faint ring of hope woven into his voice,
something that makes Chuuya's guilt grow again because…
"I'm not sure." He doesn't know how 'better' is supposed to feel, he doesn't want to offer false
words in case it didn't help. "But... maybe." His thoughts are still all tangled, his mind in
pieces that, even if not as cold as they once felt, are nowhere near being put back together.
"I see." The fox doesn't sound disappointed. If anything, there may be a note of relief in his
voice. "I hope it did."
Yeah, they both do.
But there's something else stuck in Chuuya's throat, something that seems like it could be the
answer. Like it could be what he needs, what can and will help.
"Em..." Dazai’s brow furrows as the boy searches for his words. "Can I ask you something? I
mean, can I ask... for something?"
Dazai doesn't hesitate. "Of course."
"I have this… uncle." The redhead starts slowly, his eyes trying to meet the kitsune's gaze,
but not daring to hold it for too long. "Is it okay if..."
It's okay to say it, Chuuya tells himself.
It's okay to try.
"...we go there?"
The fox blinks, confused. "Of course." But then a brief wave of hurt that Chuuya doesn't
notice washes over his face before the kitsune forces it away. "Will you be staying there for
long?"
"I'm not sure." He just thinks his uncle may be able to help. "But I thought..."
"Will you come back here?" Dazai then asks, his fox ears fighting to stay up instead of
flattening on his head. "I won't force you if you don't want to."
"Huh? I— yes." Wait, this isn't what Chuuya wanted to say. "I mean, I will."
He wants to come back, of course he does, it's not that—
"I thought that maybe we could go visit for a few days, like..." His fingers are fumbling with
his haori, eyes low and his heart racing for what feels like the first time in forever, and he
wishes the fox would just understand instead of making him say it out loud. "...as in: we."
Not just him. Not just Chuuya.
He wants to go there with Dazai.
The boy can't see the surprise and confusion on Dazai's face, but he hears it in his voice.
"We?" He doesn't blame the kitsune for not being sure, but his words aren't making it any
easier for the redhead to stay convinced that it is a good idea. "You want me to visit your
uncle?"
When he says it like that, it doesn't sound the same as it did in Chuuya's mind. There’s an
unreasonable edge to it that the boy’s mind makes up.
"Well, yes, but together with me." He still tries to argue before his mind gives up on the idea.
"So it wouldn't be too weird… right?"
Or maybe it would.
"...why?"
Maybe it's a mistake.
"I'm sorry." Chuuya says quickly, his thoughts clouding again. "Forget about it, I–I'll just go."
Maybe it was stupid to even think about it, to think about asking a kitsune to go visit a simple
human for no reason other than satisfying Chuuya’s selfish wish. How naive, how stupid—
"Wait, no!" But before he can walk away, Dazai's hand wraps around his wrist and Chuuya is
forced to stop. "I didn't—" A sigh. "I'll go, I want to go."
"...you don't have to."
"I mean it, Chibi." The fox nudges him to look up. "I'll go with you."
He didn't seem eager about it before, but he does now. He didn't seem happy about the idea
when Chuuya first asked, but maybe he doesn't have to. Maybe it's okay if he simply means
what he says.
"Okay." Chuuya whispers, nodding slightly. "Thanks." When Dazai finally lets go of his
wrist, the boy is about to turn around and go to his room – they can't announce themselves at
his uncle's house at this hour – but one thought stops him. "Earlier, you were trying to say...?"
They both had something on their minds, but what would Dazai possibly...?
"It's nothing." The fox shakes his head. "It can wait."
Oh… Well, then Chuuya must have imagined how serious his face looked for a moment, he
must be more tired than he thought.
Or it's just his mind playing tricks on him, as usual.
//Talk to him.//
Kouyou’s words ring in Dazai’s mind as he watches Chuuya disappear inside the house. He
doesn’t follow him right away, choosing to stay outside to cool his head and think about what
has just happened—
Somehow, he almost made a mistake again.
He can’t quite understand why a simple question made the faint light in the boy’s eye lose its
newfound shine. It was a reasonable question, considering how he didn’t expect such a
request from Chuuya at all. He was simply curious, he didn’t mean anything bad by it,
especially nothing that would hurt the redhead.
And he’s glad he caught on to the mistake while he could still make it right.
Because Dazai doesn’t mind visiting this ‘uncle’ Chuuya spoke of, not if it’s something the
redhead wants to do. He’s not sure why or how his presence there is supposed to change
anything, but he does appreciate being able to stay close to the boy instead of letting him go
alone.
Which leaves Kouyou’s advice…
A part of Dazai knows this is what he needs to do, but another, much louder, part of him
doesn’t seem to let go so easily. That conversation likely needs an appropriate time and place
and—
Today, Chuuya is tired.
Soon, they will leave to visit his uncle.

None of it feels ideal, none of it feels right. Plus, maybe he should wait until the redhead gets
better, until he’s more of a person than he used to be rather than a shadow of them? The
kitsune doesn’t want to add to the lingering pain, he doesn’t want to make things worse
before they can get better.
Maybe he should wait a bit longer.
Maybe he will… wait for the right time.
(And maybe it will come sooner than he thinks.)
Chapter End Notes
Kouyou doesn't get paid enough to deal with this dumb fox, I swear...
Anyway! Things are finally taking a better turn, we are getting very close to some fluff
in a few chapters~ a LOT of fluff, may I say~
I know I did that foreshadowing, but it's for MUCH later in the story
A Step Forward
Chapter Notes
It's around noon when Dazai's flames take them to the forest that only Chuuya finds familiar.
After visiting Kouyou, Chuuya needed time to process whatever was going on in his mind,
especially with how her words left his thoughts as if a storm had passed by. But it only took
him a few days of staying in his room – alone, but by choice, he needed to think, not be told
what to do and feel – before he decided he was as ready as he'll ever be.
Usually, if Chuuya were to travel by normal means, it would take him several days, and that’s
only if one of the merchants would agree to give him a ride in their carriages. With Dazai,
however, getting anywhere takes a second, a blink of an eye for the scenery around them to
change completely.
The redhead knows the way to his uncle’s place, it’s not the first time he decides to visit, but
it is the first time he doesn’t use the traditional, human means of travel that are easy to
navigate, even if time consuming. Their destination is far from any bigger village or town,
it’s a rather secluded location, meaning Chuuya was only able to give a very vague
explanation of where they needed to go to the fox.
Which is why they end up not quite in the right place.
But they have time. It's not like anyone is actually expecting them to come because there was
no reasonable way to let Chuuya's uncle know beforehand, so they decide to walk the rest of
the way.
They don't have any luggage with them – Dazai doesn't need it and Chuuya doesn’t own
anything other than clothes, which he usually ends up borrowing from his uncle when he
visits anyway – if the need arises, the fox can simply go back and bring anything they may
need.
As they walk, Chuuya takes in the sights around them. The forest hasn't really changed since
his last visit and the path they take reminds him of the many times he'd walk the same way
while running errands to the nearest village as a teenager. At first, his uncle wouldn't let him
go alone anywhere by himself, probably as a result of his many attempts at running away
when Chuuya first got here, but as the boy got older and calmer, he was allowed to help not
only around the premises, but also with anything involving travelling.
Some of the tasks were given to him most likely because he was the youngest person around
with much more energy than others, but at the time it felt like he was finally being treated as
an adult. Now, he knows better, he knows he was just a teenager with too much free time and
an uncle who knew how to use that to his advantage. Chuuya would do the same in his place.
"Isn't it inconvenient?” Dazai's words ring through the silence between them. “For your uncle
to live so far away from other humans?" There's no actual curiosity in his voice, or maybe it’s
hidden too well; it feels more like the kitsune simply wants to say something, anything.
Chuuya looks at the path in front of him, thinking about how much he should explain before
they get there. He doesn't mind sharing, the fox already knows many stories from his
childhood that the redhead told him out of his own free will, but he doesn't want to bore him
with unnecessary information. And of that, there is a lot.
"It is." He eventually answers, choosing to give Dazai the basic pieces and wait to see if the
kitsune asks for more. "But that's just where the shrine was built."
"A shrine?"
"He's a shinto priest." The redhead continues. "As far as I know, he has always lived there."
And by ‘always’, Chuuya means at least twenty years.
Surprisingly or not, that piece of information seems to spark the faintest sparkle of interest,
or pure curiosity, in Dazai. "Which god is it for?" He asks, ears perked up and his head tilted
slightly. "Do I know them?"
Ah, right.
He knows gods.
"I never paid too much attention.” The boy ponders over the question while his eyes watch
the ground blanketed with golden and red leaves. “Something with the wind, I think?"
Chuuya is sure his uncle told him many times about the god his shrine is dedicated to, but he
was just a child back then, it was all so boring to listen to, even if not as much as listening to
the same prayers and surtas repeated around him on a daily basis. He respects his uncle’s and
other priests’ beliefs obviously, but again – he was a child.
Climbing old statues and the buildings' roofs was much more fun, and that’s exactly what he
preferred to do.
“Ah.” Dazai’s curiosity seems to vanish. "I haven't seen them in decades then."
It probably wouldn't matter anyway. From what Chuuya was told by the fox, most gods don't
even stay in their shrines anymore these days and, instead, reside in their own dimensions.
He’s not sure what exactly it changes – other than the shrines being less protected, probably –
but he also doesn’t bother with trying to understand more that he needs to.
Plus, maybe it’s for the better. Just because the kitsune knows some of the gods, it doesn’t
mean he’s on good terms with them.
However, Dazai's comment reminds Chuuya about another issue that actually can be a
problem. That will be a problem if they don’t do anything about it.
"What about your, em..." He turns his head to look at the fox, brows furrowed.
"...appearance?"
Even a shinto priest may have problems with staying calm when they meet a kitsune, a real
one and not just a stone figure. Sure, his uncle is a nice and incredibly understanding guy, and
Chuuya doesn’t like lying to him, but he also doesn’t want him to freak out, or worse. The
boy is sure his uncle would understand if he gives him a long, and possibly not too detailed
explanation, but that’s not what they’re here for. Not this time.
Chuuya may feel somewhat better now, but he’s nowhere near ready to have to explain
something like that.
"Oh." In a blink of an eye, Dazai’s tails and fox ears are gone. The only unconventional
features visible are his bandages now. "Is that better?"
Well, he looks... human.
Fully human and, if he's being honest, Chuuya isn't sure how he feels about it. Obviously, it
helps that the fox can hide his demonic attributes, but on the other hand, the redhead got used
to them. He got used to being able to read some of what Dazai is thinking from the subtle
signs his fox side would show and having that taken away feels… less right.
His face is the same, this is still the same person as before, not a stranger, but Chuuya can't
get rid of the feeling that something is missing. Because it is, obviously, but it’s more than
that. It’s like looking at a person you know wearing a mask so obvious it makes you almost
uncomfortable.
"Yeah." But this is how things must stay, for now. "It's fine."
Awkward silence settles between them again as Chuuya starts to wonder how Dazai feels
about hiding his nature, and it’s the kitsune who speaks up again first.
"Will your uncle be okay with a stranger staying over?"
And, well, that's a question Chuuya is assuming he knows the answer to. Despite having
stayed here for five years in the past, he doesn't know much about all the religious rules, but
it always seemed to him like his uncle would help anyone who visited. Stranger or not.
"I can stay in the forest if that's a problem." Dazai adds, unbothered.
"What? No, no—" Chuuya wouldn't allow that. That’s ridiculous. Dazai may be a fox, but
he’s… not? In a way? "You'll be fine. I was a stranger there once, too."
Although, it was so long ago he doesn't even remember the time when he didn't know that
odd, but kind, man. The days where the boy would shout at the man trying to help him seem
like an old story now, something they'd talk and laugh about during long dinners or evenings,
and not like actual situations that used to happen.
The kitsune doesn’t argue, but… "You were a child." …he does have a point.
Not that it changes anything.
"And you're with me." Chuuya says, quieter than before, but just as determined. "Really, it's
okay."
An old torii gate appears in the distance, red wood surrounded by golden leaves marking the
end of their destination. The same gate Chuuya once stubbornly tried to climb and fell from
numerous times.
"But you are allowed to enter it, right?" The boy doesn't think there should be anything
stopping the kitsune from walking inside, but there are probably many things about the yōkai
world he doesn't know yet.
"A god may have lived there once, Chibi." Dazai chuckles, unbothered by the other’s
question. "But it's nothing more than a place humans built, it can only keep lower demons
away, at best."
…is it a good thing? A bad thing?
Should Chuuya be worried?
But as they get closer to the shrine, the redhead pushes these thoughts away. Nothing bad has
ever happened, so starting to worry about his uncle now, after all these years of peace,
wouldn't make much sense. Plus, getting one answer from Dazai always results in a dozen
new questions the boy doesn't have the strength to face right now.
He didn't come here to learn about yōkai and humans and how many of these religious rules
are actually true, no. He came here because he wants to rest.
Heal, if possible.
Because Chuuya understands now that he isn't fine, even if he’s better than before, he sees it.
In a way, he knew it from the start, because why else would his mind feel like a field of
broken glass? Why else would he feel imprisoned in his own body? It was simply easier not
to think about it and pretend that all this pain was normal. But now he realises that it isn't
how things should be and that, no matter how much he hates it, he can’t fight this on his own.
//Don't let the sins that aren't yours destroy you.//
He can't be sure this will help, maybe there isn't anyone that can help him be the same as
before, but the fact that there still is a place that holds his past that he hasn't lost is enough to
let a relieved breath escape him. Chuuya doesn't hate Dazai's home – he's grown to like it
once, he can do it again even if he's not quite there yet – but this is different.
This is his past, his memories, a part of his childhood—

Here, he has a family.
It’s this pull from the old, more childish, part of him that brings Chuuya here. Yes, it’s also to
try and piece his mind together, but in a different way than the visit to Kouyou did.
Because, after thinking about it for days, Chuuya understands. The spirit broke through the
cold walls of the redhead’s mind with her sharp words and the boy can finally see a way out
of the darkness that has been holding onto him. Chuuya doesn’t want his uncle to try to
convince him it wasn’t his fault, he already accepted it – he only wants to feel this familiar
warmth he remembers from his childhood.
The warmth he briefly felt around Kyouka’s family.
The feeling of being safe and loved.
As they get closer, Chuuya sees a figure of a man by the gate, probably sweeping dried leaves
away from the stone steps. He's wearing simple white and light blue clothing brightly
reflecting sunlight. When the man hears footsteps approaching, he looks up and…
"Chuuya?"
It's not quite a smile that settles on Chuuya's face, at least the redhead wouldn't call it that,
but some of the underlying pain softens its hold around him, letting the boy relax visibly.
"Hi, uncle Adam."
Adam puts his broom down when the redhead comes close enough to bring him in for a hug.
"I didn't know you were coming."
"I know." The boy tightens his arms around him for a moment before leaning back. "Sorry, I
didn't send any letters to let you know."
The man smiles at the younger, not a single hint of anger tainting his expression. There’s only
care. "It's okay, I'm always glad to see you." He then looks at Dazai, curious and confused,
but not concerned. Yet. "Your friend...?"
The brunette offers the man a polite, though not exactly honest, smile without any words.
"That's Dazai." Chuuya explains. He really should have thought of this sooner. "He's, em…
he's letting me stay at his house." Sort of.
"At his house?" Adam's brows shoot up. "I'm afraid I don't understand. Is everything okay?"
Ah, the one question that the redhead didn't want to face so soon, even if he knew it would be
inevitable.
No, not everything is fine. Hardly anything feels fine anymore, but that's not a conversation
they should have out here.
"It's... complicated."
"Are you hurt?" Adam looks at Chuuya with worried eyes, keeping his hands on the boy’s
arms and willing his voice to sound gentle, even if it’s painted with deep concern. "What
happened?"
"I—" Chuuya takes a deep breath. Not here, not now. "I'll tell you later, I promise.” He tries
to smile, or at least appear okay and like he’s not on the verge of crying just from having his
uncle so close and so unconditionally worried about him. “Do you think we can stay for a
few days?"
Concern never leaves the man's face, but the silent plea he sees in the blue eyes tells him not
to push.
"Of course." He squeezes Chuuya's arms before looking back at Dazai, nodding at him
politely, a gesture the brunette returns despite still not having said anything yet. "You can stay
however long you want."
Leaving clearing the entrance for another time, Adam leads them to the building next to the
temple, the same one Chuuya spent 5 years of his life in. It’s a building where passing
travellers or guests stay in for no more than a few nights, but the young redhead was too
stubborn about not sleeping with ‘boring priests with stupid curfews’ and claimed one fo the
rooms here for himself all these years ago.
Come to think of it…
"Where is everyone?" Chuuya asks him as they walk.
The shrine is in a secluded area, yes, but it has never been this empty before. Even on days
with no visitors, there should still be people around, priests and monks live here.
"You know how life is, kid." Adam sends him a soft smile, shrugging. "Older ones pass away
while youngsters leave for more interesting temples, or abandon their duties altogether. Right
now it's..." Adam eyes the temple and the forest surrounding it with a nostalgic look.
"...mostly just me."
As it seems, a lot has changed in the few years Chuuya's been away, much more than he
thought. "But your friends...?"
"Taking care of a temple is a priest's duty." A hand ruffles through red hair, a hand that feels
so gentle despite its rough skin. "Everyone does what they can."
"But they're here, right?"
Adam isn't all alone, right? He's not living all by himself? Sure, the others don’t share the
same status as his uncle but…
The man sighs, warm eyes meeting blue ones. "They are. Don’t worry about it."
The building Chuuya remembers hasn't changed at all. Someone must have been looking
after the rooms – Adam, most likely – because they're all too clean, considering there
shouldn't be anyone using them. Of course, the redhead gets the same room as always, while
Dazai is offered the one next to it. They're quite small, meant for visitors to stay for no more
than a few nights or for people that have nowhere else to go, but this is where Chuuya's safe
place is.
(Where one of his safe places is.)
Adam is about to offer them tea and something hot to eat when the redhead makes him sit
down on one of the cushions by the small table in the main room, saying that he still
remembers where they keep everything.
He knows his uncle isn't that old, he's only in his mid forties, but it hasn't escaped him how
the man clenches his jaw every time he bends down too much. It wouldn't be the first time he
hurt himself without telling anyone or properly taking care of it, Chuuya remembers it
happening a lot, that's why he's always looking for the small signs.
It’s not like he minds getting them something to eat and drink.
Sure, he hasn't done that in a while, he wouldn't even eat at all if it wasn't for the demons
asking him to, but if he can let his uncle rest for a while, he'll do it. Chuuya's pain is in his
mind and heart, and while his body isn’t exactly in perfect condition either – he’s not hurt
and Adam is.
Maybe they can help each other, like this.
Dazai, for better or worse, hasn't said anything since they arrived. He doesn’t act rude
towards Adam, which Chuuya can only be grateful for, but he doesn't seem to be eager to
start a conversation by himself. When they were still outside, he'd only look around in silence
and let the other two speak.
No comments on the shrine, no comments on their rooms or questions for Adam. Nothing.
But… maybe that's better. For now, anyway.
It gives the redhead more time to think and come up with answers he may need when his
uncle starts asking about Dazai again. About why they’re living together or how they met and
why they’re both here – all of these are far more difficult to answer than the redhead would
prefer.
Later, the boy tells himself.
"Did you hurt yourself again?" Chuuya carefully puts the tray with tea cups and steamed buns
on the small table in the main room, sitting down at one of its sides on the tatami mat.
Adam waves his hand at him before reaching for a cup. "It's just some backache."
"So you did."

"No." Adam takes a sip, rolling his eyes at Chuuya. "Backache is something normal for
people my age."
"Then you should rest more."
"I do, kid." Adam's voice sounds reassuring, even if a little tired despite his words. The man
probably doesn’t want to worry him, as always. "But what about you? You don’t seem fine."
Ah, and so it starts again.
It had to, at some point.
"...I didn't hurt myself." Chuuya mumbles into his cup, averting his eyes. His body is fine,
mostly.
"That's good.” There’s a quiet hint of relief in Adam’s voice, but it’s overshadowed by his
growing concern. “What's going on, then?"
The man is looking between Chuuya and Dazai, but the fox doesn't say anything, most likely
because he knows it's not his conversation to have, not his answers to give.
...or because he doesn't feel like it, which is also an option.
Regardless, Chuuya knows the question is mostly for him and that he should be the one to
explain. "LIke I said, it's complicated." And it's really hard to keep his voice from breaking
down. Not because of the memories, but from the gentle but worried look on his uncle’s face.
"Chuuya." Adam smiles encouragingly. "There is nothing you can't tell me. I can and I will
wait if you need it, but I am worried."
"I know." A sigh. "It's not that important..." But when the older man arches his brow, Chuuya
knows it won't work. "Okay, that was a lie."
Even if he's still struggling with sharing what's on his mind, it's amazing how easy speaking
to Adam is. The words, insignificant and not fully honest as they may be, seem to be flowing
from Chuuya's lips in the most natural way. A short answer that wouldn't be more than a nod
just a week ago, a simple question – all of these are milestones for the redhead, but he reaches
them without really thinking about it.
It's like all of his mind's restraints can't hold back the habits he gained while living here.
Everyone was always so quiet and, for a child, so boring to spend his time around, so Chuuya
had to be the one to try and make them talk more or listen to his stories.
The redhead’s hands tighten around the cup he's holding, eyes falling to the table. "I made a
mistake and… it turned out bad. Really bad."
On the other hand, though, it’s always a battle to allow himself to worry Adam like that,
especially when his uncle is already hurt.
"...did someone get hurt?" Adam isn't trying to push him, he's calm and understanding, giving
the boy time to answer.
"Yeah." Chuuya's voice trembles slightly. "My friend."
After a moment of silence, of Chuuya trying to stay calm and Adam assessing how much he
should ask, it's Dazai who speaks for the first time since coming here.
"Would you like me to give you some time alone?" He sounds somewhat unsure and the
question does catch the redhead off–guard, because he almost forgot the kitsune is still there
but—
"Sorry." He says with a small nod.
—maybe it's better if it's just the two of them, especially since there is more than the matter
of his grief that Chuuya needs help with. It is mostly his pain, but there also is another layer
to it, a layer that he only recently started noticing.
"It's okay." Dazai says, standing up from his seat. "I'll be in my room."
They watch him disappear around the corner and when the faint sound of sliding doors
reaches them...
Chuuya can’t keep it in anymore.
"I—" He lets a single tear roll down his cheek, but he doesn't break down, he's already done
it too many times. "I really, really fucked up this time."
Adam lets him say everything at his own pace, never cutting in and only taking in all the
information he's given. Of course, the redhead omits some facts and changes a few more, but
the main points of his story remain the same.
The result of his actions is only one after all.
Killed by a demon or a human – Shirase is dead.
"Oh, kid." The older man moves closer, pulling Chuuya into another hug. "I'm so sorry." He
strokes his hair, letting the boy press his face into his clothes. "It must have hurt a lot."
Closing his eyes, Chuuya let out a shaky breath. "Y–yeah..."
"But it's not your fault, you know that, right?"
"Sort of." Chuuya sniffles as he leans back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his kimono,
"Someone already gave me that talk, so..."
More like, Kouyou made him see things as they were, not as they appeared.
"...I'm getting there."

"Was it Dazai?" Adam smiles at him, trying to brighten the younger man a little. "He seems...
polite."
Oh, well, he's not, he's just keeping quiet for some reason, but the redhead understands and
appreciates his uncle’s choice of words.
"He tried." He did, in his own way, and Chuuya knows it now, regardless of how it turned out
or how he felt about it at the time. "But no, not him."
Nodding, Adam doesn’t seem surprised. "Then I'm grateful to whoever gave you that talk. I
only wish you'd come here sooner." He squeezes the redhead's hand, his voice more quiet
now. "I'm a failure of a guardian for letting you go through it alone."
What…?
"No! You're not a failure." Chuuya shakes his head, hating how his uncle must be feeling to
say something like this. "You couldn't have known."
Adam sends him a remorseful smile. "But I should have stayed in touch more, I'm your
family."
"That's why I'm here now and…” Chuuya swallows awkwardly, looking to the side. “I wasn't
actually alone."
He felt alone, yes, but that's because he was isolating himself on purpose, not because the
demons didn't try to be there for him. Who knows what would have happened if no one was
looking after him? Who knows how Chuuya would have ended up?
"From what you've told me," Adam sighs. "It seems like you were, even if other people were
physically close to you."
"Yeah, em…” He’s sure Adam understands because his uncle’s words aren’t accusing, they’re
more like a sad statement of apology, not only from himself. “Dazai is trying but he's not the
best when it comes to these things."
Honestly, Chuuya isn't the best at emotions either. If it wasn't for Kouyou, he'd still be
drowning himself in his sorrow and hating every aspect of his life, but he was hurting, he still
is, so he has an excuse.
"But you're staying with him regardless?" Agam furrows his brows again, searching for the
blue eyes and all the secrets hidden behind them. "You can always stay here, you know? If
you don't want to go back."
That comment finally makes Chuuya's lips curl up after so long.
"I know." It is his home. "I know and I appreciate that but..."
There's a place he wants to go back to, there are people that he doesn't want to leave behind.
Even if it's complicated, even if it wasn't always all easy, a part of Chuuya still wants to—
"You want to go back with him, don't you?"
He's been pushing Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings away since after the Festival, he refused
to let them help him but, despite not knowing how to make it better for him, they kept trying.
Their care and worries were in every meal they made for him, every smile they offered and in
every gentle gesture Chuuya continued to hide away from. And before that...
It may take some time to go back to how things were before everything started going
downhill, but if there's even the smallest chance that it's possible … Chuuya would like to try.
He knows it now.
"I do." The redhead agrees quietly. "They all, Dazai and my other friends, care for me. I just
couldn't accept it and I thought I had to do it alone. They tried to tell me that it's not true,
but..."
Adam smiles, half–teasing and half–relieved at the boy’s light tone. "They're not the best at
'these things', huh?"
Exactly.
All of them, including Chuuya, have a long way to go and many things to learn.
The boy shrugs, feeling a bit embarrassed all of a sudden. "I didn't make it any easier for
them." He sees Adam is already trying to correct him and he cuts the man off before he can
start speaking again. "I know, I know. I'm hurt and I don't need to make things easier for
anyone."
It took him a while, but Chuuya truly knows that.
"Well, as long as you understand that." The older man looks briefly to the side, in the
direction of Dazai's room. "Is that why you brought him here? To make it easier for him? For
the both of you?"
Now, that is another conversation Chuuya will never be ready for.
"Kind of? I'm not sure."
Adam quirks a brow all too knowingly. "Are you sure Dazai is the one not good with feeling
here?"
The comment makes the redhead huff, eyes rolling at his uncle's usual sense of humour. He
always does it when others are sad, trying to distract their minds from the pain for at least a
moment. It doesn’t always work, of course, but the man was never discouraged by it before.
"I'm not as bad as him.” Chuuya tries to argue. Together with feeling better, his stubbornness
is also slowly settling back into his mind. “It's just—"
"Complicated?" Adam teases with a smirk.

And yes.
On so many levels.
They're from two different worlds, the bond Chuuya thought they formed at some point was
so fragile it shattered in one night, and then it felt like the world forced them to put it back
together. Not because they both wished for it, but because they needed to.
Because Chuuya needed it, because he needed Dazai.
Would Dazai still care for him if Chuuya wasn't chased out of his village? Would he ever try
to talk to him again if he wasn't hurt?
After the night of their first fight, and even after the second one after Shirase's funeral, they
never actually made up. They never talked about it – first it was Dazai who wouldn't let
Chuuya try and then it was the redhead who preferred to forget about everything, rather than
talk, including their fights.
They're here, they seem to be fine, but are they?
Chuuya reaches for his cup with a heavy sigh. "We fought, before all of this happened, and…
I don't know.” This is another reason why he’s here. “Should I just assume it doesn't matter
anymore?"
He didn’t feel like asking Kouyou for help with this and he’s not sure if bringing it up around
the kitsune would be a wise choice. He doesn’t want to fight again.
"Did you two talk about it?" The other man asks.
"I tried to apologise.” Chuuya’s face twists briefly at the memory. “But it didn't work out."
Dazai didn't seem to want it to work out, back then.
"Well, I'm not an expert." Adam always says it when he's about to give Chuuya a lecture, at
least now it's something the boy actually asked about instead of something that will bore him
into falling asleep. "But leaving issues unresolved usually causes more problems later on."
"...what if talking will make it worse?"
"That's always an option, but not talking won't make things better for any of you."
A part of Chuuya knows Adam is right, he knew it all along and only needed someone to say
it to him out loud but…
"It was a really bad fight." He doesn't even want to remember it, let alone go back to it. "I
don't want us to argue again, what if I make him angry?"
"Listen to me, Chuuya." Adam shifts in his place, his eyes locking with blue ones. "I don't
know what you argued about and I don't know Dazai at all."
And the redhead can't tell him about it either – the fight or about Dazai.
"But what I do know is that, whatever happened between the two of you, he still came here
with you, and he didn't have to."
Well, because Chuuya asked him to, not because the fox wanted—
//I mean it, Chibi. I'll go with you.//
—...maybe?
"If to you your friendship with him is more important than the fight you had, then I'm sure
Dazai feels the same, otherwise he wouldn't have let you live with him and then come all this
way to a place he doesn't know."
When Adam says it like that, it does make sense. Like a truth laid out right in front of him.
All these weeks of Chuuya pushing the fox away didn't change how he was always trying to
help him, how he would try to break through the redhead's walls with gentleness, not pressure
and anger – all of it suddenly becomes clearer in his head as Adam’s words reach Chuuya’s
mind.
His anxiety doesn't fade away completely, there is still a voice whispering to him that it's all
because Dazai is pitying him, but maybe his uncle is right. Maybe if they talk, it won't mean
the end for them. Not this time.
"...and if he doesn't?"
"Trust me, kid. He does." The other man straightens up, a teasing but gentle smile on his lips.
"But if I'm wrong, you can always come live here with your fantastic uncle."
Ah, here it is again.
Adam’s neverending jokes.
Chuuya crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing as an invisible weight leaves his
shoulders. "You want me to do your chores for you just like when I was a kid, don't you?"
"Maybe?"
They stare at each other for a second before they both start laughing. Chuuya's laugh is more
of a soft chuckle but, gods, how long has it been since the last time he felt this… good? It
feels like being free for the first time in years.
"I missed you." Chuuya mumbles, new tears pooling in his eyes with how relieved the
redhead is to be able to have this conversation with someone who was always there for him.
"I missed you too, kid." Adam pulls the boy into a hug, a happy one this time. "You should
visit more often, I can't just rely on Paul's updates when he comes to visit once in who knows
how long."
Right, Chuuya should probably somehow let his other uncle know before he tries to come to
his village again, otherwise he'll be worried sick. Not today, he will only need to remember…
(Or not.)
"I didn't know he still visits here."
"Oh, he does." The older man laughs to himself. "I think it's just to let me know how you're
doing, though."
It's not too surprising, considering the fact that Verlaine was the one who brought Chuuya
here in the first place, but his uncle has always been a free spirit. Never staying too long in
one spot and rarely coming back to where he's already been to. As far as the redhead
remembers him mentioning, Chuuya’s hut in the village was the only place Verlaine would
keep visiting over and over again, back when Chuuya's dad was still alive and then when the
boy moved back. It’s not as often now as it used to be, but it still happens.
"I miss uncle Paul too." He admits, sighing at himself. "I'm really bad at keeping in touch,
aren't I?"
"You've been through a lot, Chuuya. Don't worry about the little things."
Staying in touch with his family isn’t something Chuuya would call ‘little things’, but he
won’t argue, not right now. He understands what Adam means by it.
They talk for a while more: about Verlaine, about Adam's life at the shrine and how autumn
has settled all around them so quickly. The redhead tells his uncle little bits about the
Akutagawa siblings to make sure the man trusts him when he says he's in good hands.
Eventually, Chuuya even manages to trick his uncle into admitting that he did, indeed, hurt
his back after falling down the stairs, and he offers to stay and help around the shrine until his
injury heals. Dazai comes back into the room around sunset and is greeted with fresh snacks
and a new cup of tea. He stays silent as before, only occasionally answering Adam's
questions when the man speaks directly to him.
It feels oddly normal. Domestic, even.
Weird, but… nice.
It's only when the Moon is shining brightly in the dark sky that they decide to go and rest.
Adam excuses himself to go back to his room in another building, promising not to wake
them up too early – and by waking ‘them’ up he means Chuuya, the free workforce, not
Dazai, the guest.
Chuuya quickly disappears into his room after a quiet ‘goodnight’ and an attempt at smiling,
and Dazai doesn’t stop him, returning the gesture with something akin to relief. Again, it’s
more difficult to read him without his fox ears and tails. The redhead knows he's doing the
opposite of what Adam told him to do, running away instead of talking it out with the
kitsune, but… it’s late.
Too late to talk.
They can do it.
Chuuya will try tomorrow.
Chapter End Notes
Chuuya is smiling/laughing again
HE IS HEALING AND HE'S DOING GREAT AND SO FAST AND--
Yes, I get too excited about my AtPF babies sometimes... Also, I hope it was clear, but
this shrine ISN'T Arahabaki's. It's just a random god
Warm Memories
Chapter Notes
Oh, how much easier it was to make plans than to actually go through with them. It’s not that
Chuuya doesn’t want to try, it’s just…
In the morning, the redhead tells himself that it's too early, that there's no point in trying to
detangle the knots of his life when it's barely after sunrise. He’s still half asleep when he
stumbles out of his room, clearly not in the right mindset for what is likely to be a not so easy
talk. Later, he thinks.
As they eat breakfast, he can't do it because Adam is with them and, as important as his uncle
is to him, the conversation the redhead needs to have with Dazai is something they should do
when they're alone. They could go somewhere more private, or simply wait for Adam to be
busy with his priest duties, but…
Chuuya promised to help around the shrine, right?
He should get it done while the Sun is still up.
And from there, it’s all too easy to throw himself into working, instead of thinking and
worrying about all the possibilities of losing the fragile peace Chuuya now feels. Adam gives
him one task but, somehow, it turns into three. Not because he was asked to do more, not
even because Chuuya feels like doing them, but because it's a good excuse.
If he's busy, if he's helping, then there's nothing that can be done.
Right?
Much to Chuuya’s surprise, before the day has started Dazai actually offered to help out as
well, but Adam politely declined, assuring him that he's a guest. As a result, the fox was left
to himself, free to do whatever it is the kitsune does when he’s alone and away from home,
which makes a faint tingle of guilt pick at Chuuya's mind.
On one hand, Dazai is a guest and the redhead would feel bad about making him work after
everything he’s already done for him, but on the other hand… Chuuya asked him to come
here and now the kitsune not only has to hide his true appearance at all times, but also try not
to get too bored with watching the temple from under one of the trees. It’s like a forced
vacation in a place Dazai didn’t even choose himself.
Although, isn't it the same as it was when the redhead first started working around the fox’s
residence?
Chuuya wouldn't notice it every time back then, but there were times where he'd catch a
glimpse of something white around the trees' crowns while working, or hear the rustle of
clothes nearby while not seeing anyone else. He always assumed it was Dazai and, after later
discovering how often the fox lazes around on the roof of all places, he figured he must have
been right. Chuuya worked and the kitsune watched.
Only now, nothing is the same as it was back then.
They're not in Dazai's house, they're not even close to their forest. Chuuya isn't the carefree
and cheerful person he knows he was – or pretended to be, the line has blurred in his mind –
and the fox isn’t his old, relaxed self either.
Every time their eyes meet, it seems like the kitsune wants to say something, like there's
something on his mind that he wants to set free – but he never does. Whatever the fox is
hiding disappears from Chuuya’s sight far too quickly to grab onto, turning into a warm smile
that radiates ‘it’s nothing’ before Dazai looks away again.
It’s the same as when they got back from visiting Kouyou. There was something the fox tried
to say, but he decided against it.
Chuuya can see it because he's no different, because his words are fighting to escape his mind
whenever the two of them are alone, even if only for a brief moment, but his insecurities stop
him every time. No matter how much he tries to listen to his uncle's advice, the words just
won’t come out—
"Chuuya!" Adam calls out to him from the temple's entrance, shaking his head as he comes
closer. "I appreciate your help, I really do, but you don't have to do everything in one day."
Ah, is he getting scolded for helping now?
…or was this plan to avoid confronting Dazai too obvious?
"It's not that much." The redhead says, trying to hide his fatigue from his uncle’s trained eyes
and, obviously, not doing a good job at it.
Similar to how he had to work on his stamina after recovering from his injuries after the
travellers attacked him, Chuuya isn’t exactly in the best shape right now. Sure, he wasn’t
physically hurt this time, but he has spent weeks barely moving at all. The tasks Adam gives
him aren’t that challenging, but they do involve physical activity that Chuuya’s body forgot
how to endure.
"You're way too young to be able to lie me in the face, kid." The man extends his hand to him
and Chuuya doesn't have a choice but to give the broom back. "Now, go rest, have lunch with
your friend."
Wincing at the sting in his hand, the boy stretches his fingers and massages the irritated skin.
"What about you?" He says, holding back a pout.
"I'm still a priest, I have certain duties I have to do every day." Adam smiles at the redhead,
exhaling softly. "I'll eat later."
“I can help you with them, though? You always wanted me to be more involved in all of
this.”
“Nice try, kid.” With one hand on his hip, Adam smirks at the younger. “But I won’t be used
as an excuse for you to keep running away.”
Ugh.
“I thought family is supposed to be supportive?” Chuuya’s gestures at himself vaguely with

his hand. “You know, helping each other and all?”
“I am helping.” Adam insists. His expression is somewhere between holding back a laugh
and genuine care. “But someone here is being stubborn again.”
“I’m just saying that there is no need for you to do everything alone when—”
“Chuuya.”
Ugh. Again.
“Off you go, now.”
Reluctantly, and with a betrayed look in his eyes, Chuuya walks back to the building they're
staying at, looking around to see if Dazai is nearby, but not seeing the fox anywhere. But if he
was, what would Chuuya do? What would he say?
Maybe it’s for the better that Dazai isn’t here – as far as the redhead knows – it gives him
more time to think.
It's only when he's making tea by the small fireplace that he notices the kitsune. Dazai is
strolling along the line of trees surrounding the shrine and looking around as if studying the
whole area. The wind blows in his hair gently, exposing white bandages covering his face to
the world. He looks both so fitting here and so out of place, like he could belong but chooses
not to.
Dazai isn't looking in his direction, but when Chuuya’s blue eyes fall on him, the fox stops
immediately, turning his head and locking their gazes. He smiles at the redhead, only coming
closer when the boy nods, silently letting the other know it’s okay.
"Are you done for now?" The fox asks, sitting down next to Chuuya, but not too close.
"Yeah, uncle Adam told me off for working too much." And for running away from his
advice, but Dazai doesn’t need to know about that part. "He's doing some priest stuff now."
"I see." Dazai takes the cup offered to him, sipping the hot tea absentmindedly.
The air seems tense, unspoken words screaming louder and louder in Chuuya's mind with
every second that passes in silence. He wonders if the kitsune feels the same way, if he’s also
fighting with the thoughts swirling in his mind despite his best efforts at silencing them.
Because he looks like it.
It's strange not to be able to see Dazai’s fox ears and tails, it makes it a little more difficult to
read him, but somehow Chuuya just knows. If he can't watch how Dazai's ears flinch, how his
tails stiffen or sway nervously, he'll search for how he averts his eye. A subtle change of his
expression, a small movement of his fingers – if the redhead tries, he can see it all.
He also knows his own signs are more than obvious, but with how everyone is being so
careful around him, the chances that the kitsune will say anything are slim. Which means it’s
up to Chuuya to start, it’s up to him to take the first step and show Dazai he won’t be hurt by
whatever the fox hides behind his smiles.
Hopefully, that is.
"Um..." Chuuya clears his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry for dragging you out here, it must be
really boring."
Dazai offers him a smile from behind his cup. "I came willingly, Chibi, and it isn't exactly
boring."
The redhead isn’t sure what he means by that, there is literally nothing to do around here.
Chuuya would know, he spent five years of his life here. "Do you like watching trees that
much?" Or watching him, maybe?
"Oh, no, not that." The kitsune chuckles. "This shrine has some... unusual aspects to it."
Unusual...?
"As in what?"
"Well," Dazai hums, a teasing sparkle lighting up in his eye. "I saw something resembling a
hut made out of broken, wooden panels and old materials stitched together not too far from
here."
Oh.
Oh, no.
Chuuya squeezes his eyes, his face twisting with embarrassment.
"But it was too small to be an actual house so—"
"Okay, stop it." The redhead cuts him off, hiding his face in his hands. "I really thought
someone, or at least nature, would get rid of it."
Chuuya built it when he was twelve, it was supposed to be his sulking place, a hideout if you
will, for a few nights, but he ended up taking care of it until he decided to move back to the
village. He remembers how clumsily he put the materials together, how the wooden panels
would fall and break more often than not until he finally found a way to secure them in place.
Sure, it holds some of his more precious memories, but…
How is it even still here, after five years?

It's not something he wants to talk about too much, embarrassment burning bright on his face
at the memory of what a child he used to be. He likes to reminisce about it by himself
sometimes, telling Dazai some of the stories never felt wrong either, but having the fox
actually see it?
Gods, please, no.
The threat of having Adam with a head full of Chuuya’s childhood stories is enough.
Although, now that the redhead thinks about it… how long has it been since he and Dazai
had a normal conversation like this? He can't remember.
It feels like a whole eternity has passed.
"Your uncle seems like the kind of person that would look after it even if you're not a child
anymore." Dazai point out and…
Well, that is true.
"Maybe." Chuuya sighs, trying to pretend Dazai hasn’t just witnessed his childish past. "He's
a very caring person. To an absurd extent, sometimes." Clearly.
"Does..." Dazai hesitates, shifting in his place. "Does him being around… help?"
Chuuya stiffens, then lets his shoulders fall, a tired sigh escaping him.
It does, more than the boy could have hoped for before. "I think Kouyou did the hardest part,
but... yeah."
Because it's true. If it wasn't for her, Chuuya would still be lost among his own feelings and
the words he chose to believe. If it wasn't for her, it would take him much longer to
remember that he is allowed to continue living without drowning in sorrow every second of
every day, that he has this place to come back to when everything becomes too much to bear.
She broke the walls Chuuya put up around his heart and now his uncle is helping him put the
pieces that were hidden behind them back together. His presence, his silly but kind jokes are
enough to cover Chuuya's aching heart like a balm, soothing the pain and healing aching
wounds.
The redhead can feel it even after barely a day has passed, but Dazai? The fox is only an
observer, he only knows what he sees and hears, and much like with other human emotions,
he doesn't always understand what all of this means.
That’s likely why his question felt… weird, like there was something else behind it – a
meaning Chuuya couldn’t quite grasp.
A meaning that comes to light when Dazai speaks again:
"Are you sure you don't want to stay here?"

A part of him expected this much, maybe not so soon, but the redhead knew at some point
Dazai would bring it up again. He knows the fox doesn't mean it in a bad way, that he must
be trying to be thoughtful in his own way, but Chuuya’s shy smile still fades at the question.
Is that how it looks to Dazai? Because—
"Do you not want me to go back with you?"
—it was never his plan to stay here forever.
No matter how much he loves his uncle or how many precious memories the shrine holds,
Chuuya feels like his place is somewhere else. Like there is a place that he wants to make
into his home. Some day.
Dazai's jaw clenches as if he's swallowing the first, instinctual words that are trying to escape
him.
"It's Chibi's decision." He says instead, almost sorrowful. "My wishes aren't important here."
It's sweet in the saddest of ways, because while it means he's respecting the other's choices,
Dazai is also saying that his own thoughts don't matter.
While they do.
Chuuya wants to know them, to hear them. He wants to be sure he isn't a burden, he wants to
be sure he isn't just being selfish – he needs to know this is something they both want.
And, maybe, a tiny part of him wished Dazai would tell him that he'll take him back no
matter what; that If Chuuya wants to stay, the fox will convince him otherwise, or put up
some kind of a fight for what they… used to have. For what they can have again.
Maybe.
"But do you?" Chuuya tries again, eyes looking up to meet the dark gaze and trying to find an
honest answer. "I know you said I can stay with you, but..."
Does Dazai want him to? Or was it nothing more than a charity case for the kitsune?
The fox considers his words, searching for an answer that feels right among the acts he’s used
to put up. "If you'd like to." He says, slowly. "I got used to having Chibi around, it's… nice."
Which isn't exactly what Chuuya was hoping for, but he understands. The answer is there, in
his simple words and a soft voice, hiding behind a veil Dazai uses to hide from the world’s
gaze.
It’s vague, but he also wants Chuuya to come back.
It feels like an invisible weight is being lifted from his shoulders, like breathing becomes just
this much easier and his thoughts the tiniest bit lighter. Doubts breaking out from their chains
and escaping past the boy’s lips.
"Why did you ask me if I wanted to stay here, then?" Because while Chuuya knows Dazai is
trying to act considerate, he can’t imagine the fox willingly pushing him away after he has
already said it would be only a short visit.
He would, in the past, but not now.
"Because you said it helps." Comes a simple answer. Too simple. "And you're smiling here."
Oh…
"Dazai, I..."
How is Chuuya supposed to explain it to him?
He knows it may look like he wasn't happy living with the fox and the Akutagawa siblings
because, as much as it hurts to admit, he wasn't. Not because they did something wrong, but
because Chuuya had forgotten happiness. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there specifically,
he didn't want to be anywhere.
His heart wasn't capable of letting him smile, but it is now. Be it here, or anywhere else.
"I'm smiling here because I'm... better than I was." The fact that Chuuya can admit that is
already saying a lot. "And I think I'd like to stay here for a few more days until uncle Adam's
back heals, but I…”
Dazai doesn’t look away, his eye taking all of Chuuya in.
“...I'd like to go back." His last words are whispered, anxiety trying to claim his voice for
itself. "I just needed time to..."
To heal, to accept what has happened, to find himself again.
He's not quite there yet, but it's so much easier to navigate inside his heart now – breathing
doesn't make him choke, eating doesn't feel like a pointless chore he’s forced to do. Existing
doesn’t hurt.
And his mind? It’s quiet.
"I'm sorry." Dazai speaks again after a few seconds of silence between them, his hand
twitching but not reaching out to Chuuya.
The boy blinks, confused. "Huh?"
Why would he be sorry? It was a misunderstanding, it couldn't have been easy to know how
Chuuya felt—
"I'm sorry for not being enough to help you."
Oh.
But that's not… true?
Or is it?
It doesn't seem fair for Dazai to feel this way after all the time he spent trying to be there for
Chuuya, after making sure he eats, after all the nights he watched over him. Dazai put the
first two pieces back where they belonged, even if the boy didn't know how to accept them.
Dazai took him to see Kouyou, Dazai was always there even when Chuuya tried to push him
away.
He tried so hard despite not knowing what to do or say, never receiving a sign from the
redhead that any of it was helping – or even wanted. But he never gave up and, eventually,
his actions did help.
…but that's only because of Kouyou, isn't it?
If it wasn't for Dazai, Chuuya would still be miserable in the prison of his own mind, but if
the kitsune never would have made him go see the sakura spirit… would Chuuya still get
better?
That he doesn't know.
It's brutal when someone tries and tries and tries, and it's still not enough. It's brutal when you
don't know how to help, no matter how much you wish you could, when your care can only
do so much.
Chuuya knows he isn't the only one who's hurt, even if their sorrows and pain cannot be
compared to each other, but the words that were almost at his lips die unspoken. He can't
offer them anymore, because they wouldn't be true, not after he's realised how complicated
their situation is.
He wishes he could tell the kitsune he’s wrong, but he can’t.
"Don't apologise for it."
Instead, he can offer his true feelings and hope they will be enough this time.
"You tried and without you I wouldn't be smiling now." Because he is smiling, small and as it
may be, it's genuine. "So don't apologise."
Chuuya can see in Dazai's eye how conflicted the kitsune is, how he's trying to understand
and accept what the redhead has said. There's guilt fighting with hope in the hazel depth,
sorrow creeping at the slightly curled up lips and relief in the stiff shoulders. A silent
struggle.
"Besides," Chuuya continues, slightly less confident and with a faint pink painting his
cheeks. "It, all of it, won't go away that easily, so you can still help me. I mean… if you still
want to, of course."
Dazai's brow shoots up and if his fox ears were visible, the redhead is sure they would perk
up right now. Oh, maybe he does miss them a little more than he thought.
"How?" The kitsune asks, curious.
"The same as before.” Chuuya knows he was the one to mention it, but why is it suddenly
becoming more and more embarrassing? “Just… being close? And, well..."
"And?"
"I mean..." Chuuya looks to the side, no way is he saying this while looking into Dazai's dark
eye focused solely on him. "I didn't mind it when we, well, when you… held me back
then...?"
(‘Oh.’ The kitsune thinks. ‘Oh that.’ )
Dazai's face is that of pure surprise, but the redhead can't see it. "You want me to...?" Nor can
he see the sparkle of hope and something else dancing in the dark eye.
"Not all the time, of course." He blurts out quickly, not sure what he’s saying anymore. "And
not if you don't want to..."
No answer comes and, after a while, Chuuya is scared he said something wrong again, but
when he looks up – the face he sees isn't angry, or disappointed, or even conflicted, no. What
he sees is Dazai being so visibly relieved it makes the blue eyes widen, Chuuya's mouth
falling open slightly. He's so shocked that, for a second, he doesn't even realise the fox ears
and tails are back.
But only for a second.
"Daz—" His warning, however, is cut off..
"So Chibi isn't scared of me?"
He's not… what? Huh? Where did that come from?
"Why would I be scared of you?" Chuuya asks, his brows furrowing and the concern about
uncle Adam seeing Dazai like this gone immediately.
Ah, Dazai's ears really say everything with how they flatten over the brown locks. "You were
scared when I called you by your name." The fox murmurs.
He was...?
Oh.
It's not on purpose, and Chuuya hates himself for it, but his body stiffens at the reminder,
memories of a voice colder than ice flowing into his mind.
"I..."
But it's not that he's afraid of Dazai, not anymore, it's just… his body does it on its own and
the redhead can't stop it. His mind remembers and acts without his consent, even if Chuuya
knows there is nothing to fear – even if he knows he doesn’t want to react this way.
"I don't..." His arms instinctively wrap around his middle, shutting the fox off again and the
kitsune can sense it, his tails falling to the floor, unmoving.
Gods, Chuuya didn't mean to do it again, not when they were finally talking and getting
better.
Just don't think about it, just don't think about it—
//Well, then let me tell you something, Chuuya.//
— just don't think about it.
That was then and this is now. That was a fight and this is the life he chooses, the warmth he
missed and the person he wants to stay close to.
"Dazai, I..." Chuuya closes his eyes, inhaling slowly before releasing his breath again. "I'm
not scared of you, really." He doesn't move any closer, though.
Neither of them does.
"But it's my fault, isn't it?" The fox sounds defeated, lost even. "That you don't want to hear
me say it."
In a way, yes, but that fight wasn't solely Dazai's fault, he shouldn't be the only one to take
the blame. It feels wrong to have Dazai feel like he’s the only one guilty in this when Chuuya
has hurt him just as much, it hurts not to be able to control his own mind and body, or forget
that voice.
"..."
However, forming an answer that would relay all these feelings is complicated.
"I do want you to use it." Chuuya says, brows furrowed and eyes scanning the floor between
them as he's searching for his own feelings. "But I'm not sure how to… forget that."
And he wasn't prepared for this conversation, for this sudden reminder. The redhead didn’t
think Dazai would bring it up, that he would remember about it after all these weeks.
Both of them fall silent for a while.
There’s regret in the air, guilt Chuuya isn’t sure who it belongs to. Both of them, probably.
But in the end, it’s the kitsune who speaks up first, and it’s nothing the redhead expected.
There’s none of the usual nonchalance or firmness in it, it rings clear and honest, even if lost.
Like the fox finds it so hard to face the world without his many masks.
"What if there were more warm memories instead?" He must be trying to sound confident,
but there's a note of uncertainty in his voice that Chuuya clearly hears. "Would that help?"
"I don't know." It's not something Chuuya has ever dealt with before. Plus, he doesn’t quite
understand what the other means by that. "Maybe? But how...?"
One of Dazai's tails moves behind the redhead, gently stroking his back as the fox offers a
shy smile. "You said you didn't mind it, right?"
Chuuya is confused for a moment before his own words come back to him, faint blush
coming back to the boy's cheeks as he looks up to meet the kitsune’s gaze.
"I–I mean, I don't mind it, but..." But right now?!
"Then, let me?" Dazai offers; a plea well covered by the different layers of what he’s feeling.
And how could he not?
How Chuuya not lean into the arm stretched out to him?
The tail behind him gently pushes him forward before more of them wrap around him,
guiding the redhead right into Dazai's arms until his face is nuzzling into the kitsune's chest.
Chuuya's hands tremble as they move to grip at the other's kimono, desperate not to let go.
Dazai keeps him close, not too tightly as if that could break the small body in his hold, but
enough to make this warmth the redhead’s entire world for now.
The warmth he almost forgot, the warmth hat feels safe—
"Chuuya."
The redhead flinches involuntarily, but his body soon relaxes again when he feels the fox
nuzzling into his hair and his tails enveloping them both. There is darkness creeping in his
mind, but Chuuya fights to force it away, to let him remember and feel only this .
"It's okay, Chuuya."
Another flinch. The blue eyes squeeze shut, but the boy’s body presses closer.
It sounds right, it sounds wrong – it sounds new in all the good ways and terrifyingly familiar
in all the bad ones, and the redhead isn't sure whether he would be able to stay this calm if
Dazai wasn't holding him in his arms, but…
Gods, he hopes to, one day.
He likes being this close, likes being wrapped with the fox's tails, and with Dazai murmuring
softly into his hair. But he also wishes that he'll be able to hear his name falling from the
kitsune's lips and smile, not tremble.
Maybe it won't be soon. Maybe it'll stay a wish forever, never coming true.
But they can try to make it work, they can try to erase the past and build themselves up again
into the future that isn’t shrouded in darkness.
"I'm sorry." Chuuya whispers into Dazai’s chest, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "For
what I said that night, I'm so sorry.” The boy chokes out, his grip tightening.
"I know." One of Dazai's hands strokes his hair gently.
“I didn't mean to—"
"I know, Chuuya." A flinch. "And I'm sorry for what I said, I'm sorry for scaring you."
They both made mistakes, but they're still here, and the dark gap that's been separating them
for so long is finally beginning to close. It will need more time, more care from both of them,
but…
It’s a start.
Sitting alone at the same small table as yesterday, an old cushion between his body and the
tatami mats, Dazai uses this time to think.
He could do the same in the room Chuuya's uncle offered him but from here, through the
open door, he can watch the redhead sitting by one of the trees in the distance, surrounded by
five figures the fox isn't familiar with, but who he knows are the boy’s friends. Even from
afar he can see that Chuuya is at ease, that he's smiling without forcing himself to, leaving
Dazai with nothing to worry about.
Well, nothing except for the problem that only exists between him and the redhead, the
problem that he created without realising in the heat of an old moment.
Is he going about it the right way, with Chuuya's name?
It's the only thing he could think of at the time, but the small body in his arms stiffened every
time he called out to him, no matter how quiet and soft Dazai tried to sound, and close he
held the Chibi. No matter how he wished for it—
It didn't work.
Is it too soon? Is he expecting too much too fast? The fox can and will wait, he'll continue
trying, but what if it'll never be enough? What if the scars he has left on Chuuya's mind aren't
something that can fade into being forgotten?
Would it have been different if he had talked to him sooner?
Would it have been different if he accepted the first apology when he had the chance, all
these weeks ago?
Ah, but there are countless possibilities how the past may have unfolded that Dazai will never
know, just like he can never be certain of what the future will hold for them. He can try to
make it into what he wishes his world to be, he can try to make it a peaceful place for Chuuya
but, in the end, it’s not his to dictate.
He can try, but he can't promise anything, he can't control fate.
No one can, not even the gods.
His ears and tails are hidden again, his head turned to look in the direction of the faint
laughter reaching him. It's not as bright and full of life as he remembers it, but it's still
relieving to hear after weeks filled with silence and cries. After only just a day of being here
the boy finally smiles and laughs; Chuuya's uncle accomplished something Dazai couldn't,
didn't know how to.
Is it possible for him to learn it?
If the redhead ever loses himself to darkness again, will Dazai be able to help him find a way
back without relying on others?
He knows this shrine and this Adam human are important to Chuuya, and he won't try to take
them away, but how does the kitsune become someone the redhead can trust and feel safe
around? How does he make him happy?—
"Too many things on your mind, hm?" The older human's voice rings from the hallway,
bringing the fox out of his thoughts.
Dazai turns to face the man walking towards him, a gentle smile present on Adam’s tired
face. It's true that he didn't hear him until now, which would normally be worrying, but he
knows it's because his senses don't consider Adam a threat. There is no ill intent coming from
the man, not even a single bad look spared – only polite understanding.
Kindness.
Dazai isn’t exactly sure what to say to the man now sitting opposite to him. Adam is
Chuuya's family so the kitsune can't be rude – not that he ever specifically tries to, it’s simply
his nature not to care about how others decide to interpret his words and actions – and until
now it has never been just them two. When Chuuya is around, Dazai can simply stay silent,
but now?
Even if the man doesn’t have a clear reason to be here in the first place, he seems somehow
set on having a conversation with him—
"Oh, you don't have to force yourself to talk to me."
—or not?
Similarly to Chuuya, what a strange human this is.
Adam laughs at him, stretching his back. "I'm just getting some company." He looks to the
side, through the open door. "I see he went to say hi, huh?"
As the man observes the redhead, melancholy fills his eyes even though his smile doesn't
falter for a moment, which reminds the fox that he has been thinking about it ever since they
arrived here. About how this man, very much human, seems to have this knowing aura
around him.
Normally, it would be a stretch to even consider it, but…
Dazai looks at him, expression and voice neutral. "You know, don't you?"
He's pretty sure he knows the answer already, but Chuuya doesn’t seem to be aware of it and
he's lived here in the past, meaning he was never told. And if he was never told, then Dazai
may be wrong—
Adam hums, still looking at Chuuya. "I've been a priest here for over two decades. I know a
few things."
—but he rarely is when it comes to these things.
It's not unusual for shinto priests to be aware of the world beyond the human one, but the
extent to which they are aware of… certain things always differs. Adam seems to know at
least about that if nothing else.
"Why not tell him?"
Finally, the man's eyes meet Dazai's dark one, a sparkle of hesitation shining in them before it
disappears, leaving only a comforting warmth. "The time never felt right." He sighs,
shrugging.
"Isn't it something important, though?" The kitsune is assuming this much. Even if his
understanding of human emotions – the positive kind – is still lacking a lot, this can
objectively be considered important.
"It is." Adam agrees. "But I'm only human and humans make mistakes.” HIs smile turns more
sorrowful. “I missed my first chance, and then it always felt wrong to try and bring it up
again."
"But Chuuya is also human." Dazai's brow furrows. "Shouldn't he be able to understand?"
Especially when it’s his family.

"Understanding and accepting things for what they are are two very different concepts, Mr
Fox."
…he knows about that as well?
After seeing how the kitsune blinks with surprise, the man adds with a teasing smirk: "I said I
know a few things, didn't I?"
Adam's nonchalance, both in his words and the relaxed posture, picks Dazai's interest. Again,
it's not that unusual for priests to know about yōkai, but being able to recognise them while
still in disguise is impressive. Recognising a kitsune and staying this calm is most certainly a
first for Dazai.
He tilts his head. "...and you're not concerned?"
"Should I be?" The man arches a brow at him, letting out a chuckle at yet another sparkle of
surprise in the dark eye. "Chuuya is reckless, sure, but he's not stupid, and if he chooses to
trust you, then I have nothing to worry about."
Well, that makes sense… sort of?
Although, if you ask Dazai, it’s too trusting.
"Plus," Adam lets out a sigh again, leaning slightly back on his hands. "my work taught me
how to read people, and even if I can't understand everything, I can tell that you mean well."
"Being a priest taught you that?"
It seems like a lot has changed in the time Dazai chose to ignore humanity and their customs.
"I worked as a private investigator for a few years before I came here.” Adam clarifies.
“That's how I met that kid's other uncle."
Right. The other one.
Chuuya did mention there being someone else, probably the man that would appear in the
village regularly before the redhead's father passed away. Dazai doesn’t usually keep track of
who comes and goes, not unless they enter his forest, but that’s a rule made only for humans
– and the blond man wasn't exactly that.
If it’s true that they go a way back, it wouldn’t be surprising for Adam to be more aware of
yōkai than a regular priest, or at least know some of the stories humans tell about Dazai. BUt
that’s only give that Adam knows about the other one, which is a tricky question.
Because Chuuya doesn’t seem to know.
"So you are aware of the fact that..."
"...Paul's not human?" The man huffs. "Oh, yes. There was a time he wouldn't shut up about
it.” He shakes his head, an amused expression painted on his face. “Arthur, Chuuya's father,
was the first person I remember that managed to make him stop."
A part of Dazai craves for more information, but there's also a voice in the back of his head
telling him that he shouldn't ask for more than Adam is giving away on his own. It's a story
the redhead should hear first. No matter how much his curiosity is pushing him to ask
questions, Dazai knows it's not right.
He won’t risk making another mistake so soon.
"...but Chuuya was never told." The fox says instead.
"He wasn't." There's nostalgia and guilt mixing in Adam's tone. "He was just a child back
then, his father's death was already too much for him to bear. We didn't want to make him
even more confused or scared that he already was."
Dazai considers it for a moment – it's true that Chuuya was only ten when he lost his father
and it must have been devastating for someone so young to suddenly live in a new place,
surrounded by strangers. It's true that hiding some of the information may have been better at
the time but—
"He's not a child anymore."
—the longer he stays unaware, the more it'll hurt when the truth is revealed.
Isn't that how it works for humans?
Adam looks at him for a moment before Chuuya's laughter reaches them, both of their heads
turning to look at the redhead before the man murmurs…
"No, I guess he's not."
Chapter End Notes
Not be dropping all the characters' names and hints around without really saying
anything
Nicknames
Chapter Notes
—9 years ago—
Kicking a pebble along his way, Chuuya walks along the line of trees behind the temple, his
eyes low. It's around noon, there are more visitors than usual and everyone is busy so, lucky
for him, there is no one to make him do all the boring chores.
Or eat breakfast.
He didn't eat it before because that would mean talking to uncle Adam and uncle Adam was
mean to him yesterday, so he's not talking to him. So what if Chuuya broke a few plates? It
was an accident and he only wanted to help. They always nag him to help around, don’t they?
He thought about staying in his secret base for the whole day since there is no rain, but it got
too boring too quickly. Usually, he can find something to pass time while he’s there, but
today it’s just hard to stay in one place, especially since uncle Adam knows about it.
Unfortunately, his secret base isn’t exactly top secret anymore.
So, now, Chuuya is walking around the border of the shrine, avoiding talking to anyone.
It's not like they care about him, anyway. They always complain about everything or say that
they're too tired to play. Only uncle Adam would actually give him some attention, but he got
angry at Chuuya, so he probably doesn't care anymore either…
Fine.
That’s fine, it’s their choice.
The redhead doesn't need them to care, he'll play by himself. He doesn't need others to look
after him or treat him like a helpless child. Chuuya doesn’t want them to pretend to be his
friends when they’re clearly not.
Maybe he should try to go away with uncle Paul next time...?
The pebble he's been playing with for the last hour disappears in the forest's grass after a
stronger and more angry kick from Chuuya, making the child frown to himself as he looks
for it. He likes that specific pebble, it has a funny shape so he has to find it.
He's in the part behind the temple that others don't visit often, making it one of Chuuya's
favourite playing spots, but it also means it's not as well kept. The grass is littered with fallen
leaves and small branches, all in a far too similar colour to the pebble lost somewhere among
it.
But it must be somewhere close, somewhere around here…
"Why won't he just look for another rock?" An unfamiliar voice reaches him from behind the
trees. "They're all the same anyway."
“Let kids be kids, man.” Someone else answers.
Chuuya's brows furrow, partially because he doesn't recognise these people, but most
importantly…
"They're not!" The child pouts, crossing his arms on his chest. "It had a funny shape!"
Now that his eyes aren't glued to the ground, the redhead sees a group of five men standing
by the fallen tree not too far from where Chuuya is searching for his pebble. They're all
looking at him with surprised expressions, blinking slowly in silent confusion. It’s probably
because Chuuya is a child and they’re adults, and adults here don’t like it when he corrects
them.
But these people are wrong, so he has to tell them.
Besides, they don't look as old as uncle Adam – and he is old, he's 30–something! – or other
priests, so Chuuya doesn't have to agree with them. Not that he ever gives up on his
arguments that easily.
"...excuse me?"
The man in a dark kimono and with a scarf around his neck looks at Chuuya with an arched
brow. One of his eyes is closed, a long scar stretching over it from his cheek to his forehead.
The rest of them are silent, only staring at the child with various stages of confusion painted
all over their faces.
"They're not the same." The child huffs again, coming closer to make sure they hear him and
understand how serious he is. "I liked it because it had a funny shape, I don't want another
pebble."
Hm… now that he's closer to them, they seem very tall, so they're probably twenty
something. Not that Chuuya is bothered by it, he will grow taller than even them, one day.
"Oh, is that so?" Another man, with a bit longer hair and a mole under his left eye smiles at
Chuuya as he kneels on the ground a few steps away, the rest of them continuing to watch in
silence. "Would you like us to help you look for it?"
He seems nice, much nicer than the man with a scar, but…
The redhead presses his lips in a thin line. "No, I can do it myself." He doesn't need help, he
knows where the pebble is. Kind of.
"Pfff—" A man with light hair and a short braid suddenly starts laughing, one hand on his
stomach and one covering his mouth. "So much for your ‘immaculate’ skills at getting along
with everyone, huh?"
Following the man's outburst, the rest of them, save for the two who already tried talking to
Chuuya, chuckle to themselves. Well, at least they're laughing at the comment, not the
redhead, so he'll allow it.
"Hey, kid." The same man with a braid waves at him, a wide smile stretching on his lips and
teeth flashing from behind them. The sleeves of his kimono are rolled up at his shoulders in a
strange way that makes Chuuya wonder why he’d even do that. "You're the one Adam is
looking after, right?"
Oh, so they're uncle Adam's friends.
Ugh.
No, Chuuya isn't talking to him right now. He isn’t even going to think about it.
"I'm Chuuya, not a kid!" The redhead pouts again, looking over all of them with a frown. But
then his expression softens as he tilts his head, eyes shining with newfound curiosity. "You all
look weird."
His uncles would scold him if they heard him say it, but they're not around so it's fine. Plus,
it’s not like he means it in a bad way.
The men exchange stares after the comment before one of them speaks up. "Weird how,
exactly...?"
Well, that’s easy.
"You dress differently from uncle Adam and other priests." Chuuya says. It's obvious. "And
you have weird hair."
"You have weird hair too, kid."
The redhead rolls his eyes at that. "I'm not from here, I don't need temple hair." Are these
people stupid? Aren’t adults supposed to be somehow more reasonable than him?
"Temple hair?" Another man, with black hair and a scar on his cheek asks.
"Yeah, like uncle Adam's and the others'." But then Chuuya's mind catches on what was said
before and... "And I said I'm Chuuya!"
His frustration, however, only makes all – well, most of them, the man with a scar over his
eye looks like a stone statue – laugh again.
"Right, sorry about that, kid–Chuuya." The man with a braid manages to say between gasping
for air. "I'm—"
"You're like an albatross." The redhead cuts him off. He’s still not satisfied with how this man
calls him, but the thought came to his mind so suddenly he had to let it out.
"Huh?" All of them stare at Chuuya in silence, baffled by the comparison. "I'm a what, now?"
"I don't know." The child doesn't sound embarrassed in the slightest about his own
contradiction. "But one of the priests came back from travelling abroad and he said
albatrosses are loud and annoying, and you called me a kid three times already, so you're
Albatross now!"
If they won't call him by his name without that stupid 'kid' attached to it, then Chuuya won't
use their names either – that's only fair.
"Pfff—!" Albatross bursts out laughing again, his voice ringing loud and clear over the
rustling leaves. "Sure, sounds good, why not." He leans on the tree, quirking a brow. "But
what about them? Are we all Albatrosses now? Can I be the ‘number one
In that case?"
No… it would be strange and stupid to call everyone the same way. Why is he even asking?
Is he stupid?
"Of course not." The redhead huffs, coming a bit closer. He points at the man still kneeling in
front of him and is met with amused eyes and lips trembling slightly as they hold back
laughter. "You will be..."
//So much for you skills at getting along with everyone, huh?//
Smileman...? No, that sounds strange. Plus, almost all of them are smiling, so it wouldn’t
make much sense. And it’s boring, so a hard pass.
"You'll be Lippmann.” Chuuya says after a few seconds. “Because he said you like talking to
others." Or getting along, or whatever.
Lippmann blinks at him in confusion, struck for a second before pressing his lips together
into a thin line and nodding slowly without a word of complaint. Good.
Hm… but what about the rest?
They haven't really said anything, so Chuuya doesn't have much to go with…
"You could be Scarman.” Chuuya says as he looks up at the man with black bangs and a scar
on his cheek. “But there are two of you, so that's a no… Is there something you like? A
hobby?”
"Oh.” The smiles at him, suddenly very eager to share his thoughts. “I like saving people.
Actually, I'm a—"
"Ugh. You're Doc, then."

Chuuya wrinkles his nose, knowing that it's probably not too nice of him and that uncle
Adam would give him a lecture about ugh–ing at people, but the redhead doesn't like doctors.
They’re always fussing around and their medicine smells bad and tastes even worse – it’s not
his fault, okay? It’s theirs!
"What about you?" He asks the tall man with hair reaching his shoulders, and wearing a black
and white kimono.
The man looks to the side as he thinks about the answer. Or maybe he thinks of something
that would sound cool, because that's what Chuuya would do. The boy won’t be fooled
though!
"I like music." He says eventually, a warm and honest smile on his lips. "I can play quite a lot
of instruments—"
Instrumentman...? But that's so long.
"—but only the ones with strings."
Oh. That's much easier. "String Man then!" Chuuya beams. He knows there is a word for
people who play instruments, but he can't remember it right now. Admittedly, he’s been
slacking off on studying lately.
"R–right..." Albatross is hiding his smile with one hand, the other pointing to the man with a
scar across his eye. "And him?"
Chuuya glares at the man who dared to say that all pebbles were the same, dissatisfied.
"Ice Man."
"Huh?" Doc tilts his head, genuinely surprised. "Why?"
"Because his face is scary all the time."
That makes all of them laugh out loud, all of them except for the poor Ice Man, of course,
who mumbles to himself something about it being his 'normal face' and 'not fair'.
Oh, well.
He should have thought of that before insulting Chuuya's chosen play pebble. Maybe then the
redhead would have been a little more understanding and allowed him to be called something
else. In any way, it’s too late now.
"So, kid–Chuuya." Lippmann speaks up after catching his breath. "Why are you here all
alone?"
The question makes Chuuya's expression turn more sour again, reminding him of why he's
avoiding uncle Adam in the first place. "...I like being by myself." It's not exactly a lie,
because he does like it, that's what his secret base is for. It's just that, maybe, he likes uncle
Adam a bit more than being by himself and today is simply special.
In a not too good way.
"Sure, kid." Albatross smirks at him. "I'm sure that's why you're making this ugly face."
"Hey!” It’s been decided. Chuuya doesn’t like him. “It's not ugly!"
"No, but it does look worried." Doc comments with a soft voice. "So, did something
happen?"
Maybe Chuuya shouldn't talk to them after all. If they're uncle Adam's friends, then they
won't care about how breaking the plates wasn’t his fault. Especially Ice Man, he only glares
at the redhead all the time.
"...no." The boy mumbles.
"Lying is bad, you know?" Ah, see? Ice Man isn't nice at all.
…but his words make the redhead's resolve crumble, too many unspoken emotions trying to
get out of his small chest.
"Uncle Adam is angry at me." He mutters, arms crossed and his foot kicking the ground
stubbornly. "And he's not talking to me."
Well, more like Chuuya isn't talking to him, but uncle Adam started it!
"So..." String Man muses in a light, humming tone. "...you don't know how to make up with
him?"
It's not like he wants to make up with him, but… no, he doesn't.
"Oh, don't worry kid~" Albatross' shoulders shake as he's trying to stay calm, and his grin is
full of mischief that should not be trusted. "I know exactly how to make it so that he won't be
angry anymore."
Again, it's not like Chuuya cares about it, or about talking to uncle Adam, but…
Really?? He does??
Holding the thing he somehow managed to take – borrow, not steal – from one of the rooms,
Chuuya glimpses from behind the corner at his uncle, who is busy with cleaning the dishes
after lunch. All of a sudden, his stomach decides to remind him of the breakfast he missed
this morning, but if the plan his new friends came up with works, maybe he'll get an extra
portion for dinner.
"Um." He fumbles with the thing as he steps into the room, keeping away from the walls and
shelves. If he breaks something again, the plan won’t work.
"Chuuya?" Adam looks over his shoulder, putting the cups back into the water and turning
around to face the boy. "Where have you been? You missed br—"
"Here!"
The boy reaches out his arm, offering the paintbrush to his uncle who looks… confused to
say the least.
"...thank you?" The man dries his hands with an old cloth before taking the brush, looking at
it with furrowed brows and too many questions swirling in his mind. "But what is it for,
exactly? I mean, right now and here, in the kitchen?"
Isn't it obvious? It was supposed to be obvious!
Albatross said so!
"So you can paint on my face and stop being angry..."
It's not something Chuuya would normally propose, he knows all too well how difficult it is
to clean ink off of skin, but Albatross said it would help, so he's willing to go with it. It's just
one time, he'll be fine.
Adam, however, stares at him in silence, expression slowly turning from worry to confusion
to gentle acceptance and—
"I'm not angry at you, kid." He puts the brush down, careful not to dirty anything with ink. "I
only wanted you to be more mindful of your surroundings when you're in the kitchen area."
He's not angry? Really?
But he told Chuuya to step out of the room and he had this serious expression on his face…
"Is that why you skipped breakfast?" Somehow awkwardly, Chuuya nods.
The man lets out a sigh, gesturing for the redhead to sit down on the small box in the corner
as he puts some of the leftovers on a plate and gives it to the boy. "Even if I was angry, which
I wasn’t, I would still want you to eat proper meals."
Chuuya averts his eye but takes the plate, immediately biting into the warm bun. So maybe
he was a little more hungry than he thought. "Sorry..." He mumbles, mouth full with food.
He thought uncle Adam didn't want to talk to him because of what happened before, and
because the redhead had to go back to his room while his uncle cleaned up the mess the boy
had made. Because it was the first time uncle Adam was anything less than overly kind and
joking around, Chuuya didn’t know any other way to interpret it other than him being angry.
…he’s glad to be wrong though.

The man ruffles Chuuya’s hair. "As long as you remember that for the future." Then, looking
to the side, where the brush waits for someone to take it back to where it belongs. "But why
would you offer painting your face as a peace offering anyway?"
(Adam has never thought of himself as someone old, but maybe understanding children is
simply beyond him.)
"Albatross told me it would work." Chuuya answers, still chewing on his bun.
"...Albatross?"
"Your friend!" The redhead watches how his uncle's face turns more and more confused, and
only now does he realise that… "Oh, right, that's what I called him because he was really,
really loud. I didn't ask for the actual name, but he has blond hair and a braid and he said he’s
your friend."
Focusing on his food now and not looking at the man's surprised face, the boy continues
without a worry.
"There was also Doc, and Lippmann, and String Man – because he plays instruments, but
Instrumentman is too long. Oh, and Ice Man. He says his face is naturally like that but I think
he just doesn't know how to smile. His scar looks cool, though it probably hurt when he got
it."
(Adam looks at Chuuya with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, a dozen questions trying to
escape his throat, but no sound leaves him. He's going over everything the child has said, all
the weird facts and pieces of information and—
Oh.)
"...is that really what he said?" The man's expression softens into something more nostalgic,
his voice quiet as he strokes the redhead's hair.
"Mhm!" That’s how Chuuya understood it, anyway.
"Did 'Albatross' say anything else?"
It's not exactly how it was supposed to go, but Chuuya supposes that as long as his uncle isn't
angry at him and wants to talk, everything will be fine. The plan worked, somehow.
"Actually, he—"
—present time—
"If you had come to us sooner, we would have helped you with this. I know just the thing!"
Sitting on the ground and leaning on a tree, Chuuya looks at the man who's smiling at him
with a too–wide grin plastered on his lips. "You would have told me to let him paint on my
face."
"It worked before~"
Snorting, the redhead throws a pebble at Albatross. "Because I was a child." But the man
avoids it easily, rolling away on the ground until he's lying on his stomach. "And it wasn't
painting on my face that helped back then."
"You followed my plan and then it was fine." Albatross pushes himself up on his elbows. "I
say my plan was a success. More than one, actually. Remember when—"
"Can we please stop talking about what I did as a child?" Chuuya groans, way too many
embarrassing memories flooding his mind. "It's not helping."
"But you are smiling." String Man muses from where he's sitting. "At least more than
before."
The redhead rolls his eyes, but doesn't fight the way his lips curl up from all the reminiscing
and from simply talking to his friends. He's more than glad that even after others had left the
temple, his friends stayed with Adam.
Some might say it's hypocritical of him, considering that Chuuya also left, much earlier than
anyone else, but the boy always knew his future wouldn't be here. He loves his uncle, yes,
and he loves this place, but it was never a secret that he'd leave one day. Going back to the
village he grew up in and to his friends was always his dream, back then.
Besides, it was uncle Paul who brought him here after his dad had passed away. Chuuya
wasn't here to study or work in order to be granted priesthood like everyone else – he was
here because he needed a guardian.
Regardless, seeing how the familiar faces haven't changed at all since his last visit makes his
heart grow warmer. He missed them, more than he likes to show.
"Maybe I caught whatever Albatross has and I'm now going crazy." Chuuya teases.
"Kid," Doc chuckles into his hand. "if you were to catch his madness, it would have
happened years ago."
"But my plan worked!"
All six of them burst out laughing at the stubborn comment, even if in Ice Man's case it's
more of an amused huff than actual laughter. Both his character and his scary face haven't
changed, despite how it's been years since the mad warmed up to Chuuya.
After his talk with Dazai – and, well, after that hug – the redhead started feeling better than
before, an invisible weight he didn't realise he was carrying fell off his chest, making
breathing just this easier. It felt right to be held like that, it felt safe —
But also incredibly embarrassing.
It's not what they do, it's not what they are – right? – and Chuuya needed a moment to let his
mind cool after the storm of emotions that washed over him. Guilt and relief, fear and sorrow
and happiness and… There was so much going on.
Too much, at once.
(His face felt too hot.)
Saying he had to greet some old friends was a good excuse because it's actually only half an
excuse, and half the truth. Chuuya really did miss them, he’s been meaning to go say hi since
they got here.
Did it have to be now, right after he and the fox started to be more open with each other? No.
But that's not important here.
What is important is that Chuuya is not offering anyone else to paint his face ever again. He
may not be his usual self right now, still somewhat vulnerable even if hates to admit it, but
he's well enough not to be stupid. Or childish. Or whatever Albatross is.
"And I didn't come here asking for another one of your fantastic plans.” The redhead says
back. “I just wanted to say hi."
"Really?" Lippmann sends him a smirk, leaning forward to rest his chin on one hand. "So you
weren't running away from your… friend?"
No, he absolutely was not.
"Would you rather I didn't come?" Chuuya crosses his arms, a small pout forming on his lips.
"And why are you spying on me?"
"We're not." Ice Man lets out a sigh. He's standing by the nearby tree and watching the clouds
slowly flowing in the sky. He may look disinterested, but Chuuya knows better. He knows Ica
Man is the most observative one, and that he likes to store information for later.
"There aren't as many people around anymore." Lippmann continues for him."It's easy to see
a thing or two without necessarily meaning to."
Sure, of course, why wouldn't Chuuya believe them after all the times they'd watch him
embarrass himself as a child from a safe distance?
"If you have so much free time," The redhead's gaze moves to each one of them. "you should
help out more. Uncle Adam can't do everything himself."
The man himself would claim otherwise, but that's just the way he is, it doesn't mean he can
be trusted on this specific matter. In general, trusting Adam is a tricky matter. The man is
reliable and caring, but he prefers to sacrifice his own time and health for others, and that’s a
problem.
"He hurt himself again." Chuuya adds, sounding more worried than he initially planned to.
The other men look at each other, each with a different kind of expression: Doc apologetic,
Lippmann with a sad smile, String Man fidgeting slightly, Albatross visibly trying to make
someone else speak and Ice Man…
Well, with his usual, stone cold face. No surprise there.
"We know." As usual, Lippmann is the one who speaks first. "But your uncle is as stubborn
as ever, he never changes."
"Don't worry too much about him, kid." Doc tries to give him his usual smile. "It doesn't look
bad, he'll heal soon enough."
Chuuya isn't sure whether he's convinced or not, but if a doctor says it, then maybe…
"He's still working too much." The boy mumbles, looking to the side.
He knows Adam isn't anything close to frail, but it doesn't stop him from worrying every time
he sees his uncle's frown when the man forgets his back isn't exactly in perfect condition at
the moment. Wouldn’t he heal quicker if he stopped straining himself without a reason?
"So are you." Lippmann says back with an arched brow. "Didn't Adam have to stop you
earlier?"
"Oh gods, you are spying on me!"
"We're..." String Man gestures vaguely with his hand. "...around."
"Yep." Albatross agrees with a smile. "That's different."
"But it's not?" Chuuya isn't sure why he's even trying at this point. "You know what? Let's
not talk about this."
"Should we talk about your friend, instead?"
The redhead turns his head to look at Ice Man, glaring. He feels confused because he didn’t
expect him to suggest that, but more importantly—
Really? Even Ice Man?
Did they plan this?
It's not like Chuuya tried to hide Dazai from them, that would be impossible. Especially since
he had to explain to them why they're both here in the first place, but he doesn't see why
they're all so fixated on the matter. Even Adam wasn’t this insistent.
"How about we talk about you?" The boy bites back, looking over the others. "It's been years,
something interesting must have happened in that time."
"Not really." Albatross rolls on the ground again, now lying on his back with his arms behind
his head. "Life here is the same as always."
"Except for everyone who left." Chuuya points out.
"Yes, but for us..." String Man chuckles at the small frown on the boy's face. "...it's still the
same."
A sigh. "So you're agreeing to being lazy after all."
“Are you a kid or an old hag, huh?”
Another wave of laughter rings through the air, helping the redhead relax a little. He was
right to come here – talking to uncle Adam helped him find his smile again, him and Dazai
are finally making things right, and spending time bickering with his friends is doing
wonders to the dark haze of Chuuya's mind.
Every smile makes it a bit brighter, every laugh a bit warmer, and with every day he can feel
himself growing more and more alive.
In the mornings, it's slow breakfasts with Dazai and a too–energetic uncle who always loved
to wake up before sunrise. Then, it's helping around the temple and listening to his friends
trying to convince him to 'open up' more about the things that aren't there. Some days,
Chuuya walks around the forest with the kitsune, feeling guilty that there isn't much for him
to do here.
It feels oddly similar to how they used to stroll around their forest in the late summer,
surrounded by familiar nature and with only their voices filling the space between them.
Dazai doesn't say much when Chuuya introduces him to his friends, he simply nods and looks
at each in silence. At a first glance, they look suspicious about it, like they're waiting for
something to happen, but when it doesn't… They go about their day. Everyone seems to
simply acknowledge and accept the fact that Dazai doesn’t speak too much.
All is as it should be: peaceful.
It's only in the evenings, after dinner, that things get more... complicated.
Adam is the first one to go to sleep – a part of his daily routine, he says – and even if it is
well after sunset, it's still too early for Chuuya to feel tired. There are things he can do, which
mostly include reading old scripts in his room and thinking about all the life choices that led
him here, but there is also another option.
An option that has been very tempting for the past few days, Chuuya was simply too…
uncertain to actually go and do it. Because what if it's a boundary that shouldn't be crossed?
What if it'll be weird if he does it?
Logically speaking, he knows Dazai wouldn't mind, or at least he wouldn't say anything
about it, but even the slightest possibility of ruining the peace they've only just started
building is terrifying. Chuuya doesn't want to go back to fighting, to the cold silence that
grew around them.
He wants to find that calmness that he once discovered in his time with the fox. And if it
worked once, then maybe…
"Can I come in?"
The words sound nostalgic on his lips, bringing back the memories of these feelings he can't
quite understand yet.
He hasn't knocked, but he knows there's no real reason to, Dazai must be aware of him
standing here. True enough, in a few seconds the doors slide open, revealing a tall figure
standing on the other side. The fox’s ears and tails are fully visible with no one except for
Chuuya to see them, all perked up and swaying curiously as the kitsune moves to the side.
"Did something happen?" He asks with a small tilt of his head, brown locks falling on the
bandaged face.
"No, no." Chuuya shakes his head, offering him a small smile. His eyes glance over the inside
of the room as he steps inside – it's the same as his own, just enough for one person and with
an old futon folded and placed in the corner. "Everything's fine."
Dazai closes the door, but doesn't move forward, only watching the redhead standing in the
middle of the small space, thinking. "...do you need anything?"
That depends on how one looks at it.
Because there are many things Chuuya may 'need', both in the physical and mental aspects,
but he's not here for any of them, not quite. He's here because ever since his mind has started
getting better, clearer, there's this one thing that has been bugging him.
Compared to everything else they've gone through, it may not seem important, but it's exactly
this feeling close to unrushed domesticity that makes the redhead's hands itch.
"No, that's not it." Chuuya's fingers play with the object he's holding behind his back. "Am I
disturbing you?"
"You're not." Dazai answers, his focused eye softening. "I wasn't doing anything in
particular."
Right, it's not like there is anything for the kitsune to do here.
"Must be boring, huh?"
"I already told you, Chibi, I don't mind it."
Which isn't the same as enjoying being here but, for now, Chuuya won't dwell on it. It's not
the time for that.
"So," The redhead clears his throat awkwardly. "I've been thinking about it for a while and..."
It isn't any easier to say it now than it was the first time. More than that, after all these weeks
spent in silence it's probably harder to push the words past his throat. "...your fur looks
tangled."
The first emotion that appears on the fox's face is genuine surprise – his eye widens, tails halt
for a split second. Then, there's something akin to fondness passing through his expression,
his gaze turning more calculating for a moment, right before—
"Come again?"
—right before his very familiar teasing tone comes back.
Chuuya is sure Dazai both heard and understood him well enough, and now he's simply
putting on an act to be a pain in the ass again. But, maybe, that's another thing the redhead
missed more than he realised.
"Playing dumb?" He says with a roll of his eyes, shoulders relaxed now. "Or are all these
knots affecting your hearing?"
"I'm just trying to understand, Chibi~"
Well, it's not the kind of atmosphere Chuuya expected, it's more similar to the last time they
did it rather than the first night the redhead offered his help, but he doesn't mind. If anything,
Dazai's teasing tone and nonchalance help with calming his nerves.
In somewhat weird ways, but still.
The redhead crosses his arms over his chest, not even trying to hide the brush in his hand
anymore. There's an annoyed frown on his face, one that he's sure is the reason Dazai's smirk
grows wider.
"Do you want me to brush your tails or not?"
Because if not, then it's going to be extremely awkward.
Chuuya is ready for another game of play–pretend, another attempt at making him more
embarrassed than necessary—
"I do."
—but he was not ready for such a straightforward answer and the way Dazai is nowhere near
being ashamed of it.
The boy's mouth opens to make a comment about how he can go back to his room if there's
nothing for him to do here, but then it closes when Dazai's words sink in. It's not exactly a
surprise, but…
"Huh?" Chuuya blinks at the kitsune, caught off–guard.

Dazai chuckles. "I said 'I do'." He finally steps away from the door. "Unless you want to take
back your offer?"
The fox moves past him and sits down on the floor in front of the small window, leaving the
redhead staring at the wooden panels and trying to comprehend what has just happened. It
takes him a moment, but eventually the boy understands the meaning and…
"N–no." Chuuya shakes himself out of his confusion, his head turning to look at the soft tails
and a dark eye peeking back at him over the shoulder. "It still stands." He’s not complaining,
but…
Who would have thought it'd be this easy?
Nothing is ever easy with this fox.
Settling down between Dazai's tails sparks a familiar warmth in Chuuya's chest, his whole
body and mind remembering all the times he was in the exact same spot, surrounded by the
soft fur. This feeling on his palms, the small brushes on his body when the tails move closer
and the words that seem to flow out of Chuuya’s lips on their own, just like they always did
in these moments – everything fits so perfectly.
"How does it not bother you?" The redhead asks at some point, fingers running through the
fur he has just untangled. "I can't stand my hair when it's too tangled."
Dazai shrugs. "I don't feel it, so it's not a bother."
Chuuya's brows furrow. "But it looks uncomfortable."
"I don't particularly look at my tails, Chibi." The kitsune seems amused by his comment, a
playful tone to his voice. "But if you don't like it, you can brush them more often."
'Like before' remains unspoken, but they both know it's there, written into their lives.
"Maybe I will." The redhead murmurs, not intending for it to be heard but, of course, Dazai
hears it. His shoulders shake slightly when the kitsune chuckles, earning a small pout from
the redhead. "...stupid fox."
"And, yet, one little human still comes to this 'stupid fox' with a brush."
Touché.
"I must have caught whatever Albatross has with his head." A sigh, a fond one. "I don't care
what Doc says about it being too late."
Dazai hums, his tails moving to wrap around where the redhead is sitting. "I must admit,
these are some… unique names."
It's true, but it also makes Chuuya's cheeks heat up.

"...I was a child, okay?" He mumbles, brushing the same spot over and over again. All knots
long gone. "It made sense back then."
And after that, his friends straight up refused to tell him their real names, so he doesn't have
any other choice than to use the nicknames his 11–year–old self came up with. Uncle Adam
is in on it as well, never spilling any information no matter how hard the boy tries to get it.
Very unfair if you ask Chuuya.
"Has your uncle never said anything?" It's not exactly curious, but the boy doesn't know what
else to call the tone in Dazai's words. "They're his friends, aren't they?"
"He's enjoying this as much as they are." They're all annoying in this regard. "I tried asking
him about their names, but he said it's too funny how it makes other priests confused, so he
won't tell me."
"And the others?"
"I never really talked to other priests much and it's not like I can do it now." Because
everyone left, one way or another.
Dazai doesn't say anything to that, only humming quietly as Chuuya tells him another story
from the time he spent here as a child. About how he would skip doing chores to talk to his
friends, about all the stuff Albatross tried to convince him to do, which mostly included
making a fool out of himself, and about how unusually grumpy Ice Man always gets when
Chuuya tells him his face is scary even when the man claims he's smiling.
Some memories make him want to disappear, some make him laugh and some are just...
normal, things that fill everyone's childhood.
Dazai listens to his every word, patiently waiting for when Chuuya says he's done with his
tails and then…
Then, they talk more.
The fox turns around to face the human, but his tails stay as stretched out around them as
possible. Evening turns into night as they sit side by side, until at some point Chuuya's eyes
fall shut, his breathing even and body only supported by Dazai's tails.
The redhead won't know it until the morning, but he is never left alone, he's never taken back
to his own room. Instead, he'll wake up in a futon that Dazai hasn't used once since coming
here, with the kitsune sitting by the wall and watching over him. He'll wake up to a soft gaze
and gentle brushes of warm fur on his arm.
He'll wake up happy.
And maybe, in the back of his head, Chuuya will think this is what his future can look like,
that maybe this is what he can wish for.
Is it something he deserves? That's too hard of a question for now, it may remain unanswered
forever, but that’s not for now to worry about.
Because Chuuya will wake up from his dreamless night with a smile, ready for another day at
the temple that he calls home. One of his homes. He’ll smile more, laugh more, and he’ll be
grateful to everyone who has helped him get back on his own two feet.
(...but will he be ready for one more challenge the world has planned for him?)
Chapter End Notes
First of all, writing the narrative from a child's perspective is hard......
Second of all, I'm sorry but I had to change Piano Man to String Man, because the story
is set in times before piano was invented T_T
Anyway! The next chapter will be the last one of this arc and then we're off to pure
fluff~
(Yes, I'm a sucker for Chuuya brushing Dazai's tails and falling asleep surrounded by
them)
An Old Story
Chapter Notes
It has been two weeks since he and Dazai came here.
Two weeks that felt so brief, as if no time had passed at all, but that somehow managed to
change so much in Chuuya’s life. The redhead found his smiles again, his laughter, his heart
began to beat with the same rhythm as it once did – the rhythm of a boy living their life, not
of a dead person trapped in a living body. His skin found its healthy colour, his hair found its
old shine—
"So… you're leaving already?"
—and Adam's back fully healed.
All three of them are sitting at the small table in the main room, sipping on their tea as on any
other morning. The original plan was to stay for only a few days, then it changed into staying
long enough to help around the shrine until Chuuya's uncle felt better. But later on, even
when Adam's back wasn't hurting anymore, the redhead would find yet a new way to justify
why they're staying just a little longer. Making sure Adam isn't pretending to feel better, or
having to finish some of the chores Chuuya has already started – anything that would sound
at least the slightest bit reasonable.
It's not that he didn't want to go back, it's that he wanted to enjoy life here, with his family
and friends, until he felt it was the time… until he felt ready to take the next step forward on
his own.
And now, he does.
"Well, not right away." The boy mumbles into his cup, already feeling bad for leaving Adam
alone. "But later today, yes. We've already been here longer than expected."
Dazai hasn’t said anything about it in the last two weeks, he hasn’t complained even once,
but Chuuya knows. The fox may not mind it here, but he’s not comfortable, it’s not his home.
"You're always welcome to stay here for however long you want, kid." The sincerity in
Adam's voice pulls a soft smile out of Chuuya, his eyes looking up to meet the man's gaze
and seeing so much genuine fondness in them, it makes it hard to resist the thought of staying
just one day more.
"I know." He really does. "But I..."
"Miss those other friends you mentioned?" The man lets out a fond sigh. "It's okay, Chuuya,
you can come and leave whenever you wish, I won’t stop you. But if you can, visit more
often maybe?" He winks at the other from above his cup, smile wrinkles forming in the
corners of his eyes. "I'm not getting any younger, I need to be reminded of what you look like
more frequently than once every three years."
Yeah... that's reasonable.
"I will, I promise." And with Dazai's help, it will be much easier to travel.
The fact that Chuuya doesn’t exactly have a job anymore, doesn’t need to work every day to
earn enough to pay for his meals also helps, even if in a more saddening way. It helps, but the
boy won’t think about it, not now.
"Also…” Chuuya sends Adam a look. “I can't believe you're using the 'old man' card now,
after you were so persistent on not having hurt your back before."
They both laugh at that, the comment makes even the kitsune sitting quietly next to them
smile into his cup. Ironic, Chuuya thinks, considering the fox is by far the oldest one here.
Not that he looks like it.
"Oh, but in that case," His uncle speaks again, completely ignoring the previous comment. "I
can't have you doing chores anymore, it would be a waste of your last day. How about we..."
And so, the day goes on with them walking around the shrine and reminiscing about the old
times.
Adam doesn't tend to his daily ‘priest duties’, saying it's a special occasion so it's fine, and
the two pretend to believe him. Soon enough, though, Chuuya realises that his uncle enjoys
telling Dazai embarrassing stories from the redhead's past a bit too much. Sure, Chuuya has
already told the fox a good portion of them, but there is always the matter of Adam
remembering them in a different light, with way too many details viewed from an adult’s
perspective.
So what if he was once determined to climb all the statues around the shrine in the middle of
winter and fell on his ass a few times more than once? He was ten.
So what if he got lost in the forest when he was fifteen because he was following a rabbit? He
found his way back in the end. (And then had to listen to an hour long lecture about worrying
his uncle.)
But it seems that despite Dazai's nature of keeping to himself while they're here, the kitsune
becomes surprisingly invested when it comes to encouraging Adam's never–ending talks
about Chuuya's childhood. Not that the man needs encouragement in continuing to make
Chuuya squirm in embarrassment, he very much doesn't.
And so, the redhead doesn't even feel bad about leaving the two to talk for a bit when he goes
to say goodbye to his friends. In a way, it’s a chance to spare his sanity and pride from being
hurt too much with all the details.
Chuuya walks up to them with the small pout still painted on his lips and is welcomed with
the usual teasing glances. Traitors, they’re all traitors here.
"You look so happy, Chuuya~" Albatross muses.
Lippmann is visibly suppressing his laughter. "Your face radiates nothing but joy."
"He means it's red." Ice Man clarifies, his voice neutral, but Chuuya already knew what it
meant.
"Why is everyone being annoying today?" The redhead groans and rolls his eyes. "If I didn't
know any better, I'd think you all want me to go away."
"Of course not." Lippmann reassures him with a smile. "Who will we make fun of when you
go back?"
What was it, again? Being able to get along with everyone? His nickname clearly needs to be
changed, who even came up with it in the first place? Lippmann is annoying, end of story.
"So..." String Man leans on a tree, tucking his hair behind one ear before it falls on his face.
"...last day, huh?"
A short silence falls over them, but no one loses their smile. They knew Chuuya wouldn't
stay here forever, and they know he will be back. Hopefully, sooner rather than later.
"Yeah." The redhead agrees, the realisation stinging only a little in the childish part of his
heart. "I'll visit more often though, I already promised uncle Adam so much."
"Good." Doc chuckles. "You're the only person here who can make him rest when he injures
himself. He won’t listen to anyone else."
"Because you're all too lazy..."
"Oh, no." Albatross shakes his head, pointing with his thumb at the men standing next to
Dazai in the distance. "Even my plans won't work on him if you're not here, kid."
Gods, may his plans stop being proposed in the first place, please.
"When will you stop calling me that?” Chuuya says instead. “I'm already an adult!"
Their laughter rings through the air, accompanied by Chuuya's annoyed huff that soon turns
into chuckles as they talk some more. It's nothing important, just their usual routine of trying
to make the redhead give them some last details of 'how it's going with his friend' before they
leave. Albatross and Lippmann lead the conversation, as always, picking at Chuuya's every
word. It’s risky, and Chuuya has to keep his voice low at all times while also shushing his
friends.
Who knows what Dazai can hear, even from here? His demon senses are too sharp for the
redhead’s liking, especially right now.
Regardless, Doc never passes on an opportunity to give him some advice on how to take care
of himself, String Man mostly hums in the background, only occasionally adding a comment
or two, and Ice Man…well, he’s listening, but in his usual, very quiet way. His silence,
however, doesn't mean he isn't making fun of Chuuya in his mind, the boy is more than sure
of that.
They talk and laugh, and it's only when the redhead hears footsteps approaching from behind
him that they all quiet down, looking at the man coming their way.
"Having fun?" Adam asks in a gentle tone, his eyes looking over Chuuya's head briefly.
"Huh? Yeah." The boy scratches the back of his neck, looking over his shoulder with a smile.
"They're being a pain, though."
Albatross shrugs, some of them chuckle, and Ice Man stays himself. All as it should be.
"I'm sure." Adam's hand rests on Chuuya's shoulder, making the boy turn to meet the older
man's gaze. There are smile lines in the corner of his eyes, his face seems softer than usual,
less teasing than it was for the past couple of hours. "Chuuya…"
When he speaks, it's… weird for some reason. Hesitant.
"Before you go, there's something I should show you."
"Sure?” Show him? Now? Chuuya is pretty sure there isn’t anything around the shrine he
hasn’t already seen, but if Adam managed to hide something, then he is curious. “Let me just
say goodbye, then."
Adam shakes his head, looking behind him again with an apologetic smile. "It's better if they
come too."
Chuuya's brows furrow in confusion, unsure what to make of the other’s words. His friends
haven't said a word since Adam came here, but as the redhead turns to them—
"It's okay." Surprisingly, it's Ice Man that speaks up. "We'll go."
They don't look uncomfortable at the offer, but there is a hint of surprise, guilt and…
something else in their stares, but the redhead doesn’t know what to call it.
"Okay...?" Chuuya searches for an answer in his friends’ faces, but doesn't find it in any of
them.
Adam squeezes his arm one last time before walking around him and... stepping into the
forest? The others step out of his way, silently waiting for Chuuya to follow as the older man
leads the way.
"Where are we going?" The redhead asks after catching up to his uncle. He can hear
Albatross and Lippmann whispering at his side, String Man murmuring something to Doc,
but he doesn't pay too much attention to what they're saying.
"You'll see." Adam's eyes are set on their path, his lips slightly curled up in a smile that
doesn't say much.
Now that Chuuya thinks about it, this may be the first time all of them are going somewhere
together. His uncle rarely leaves the shrine to go anywhere other than the village, and even
that is purely for buying supplies and food.
It feels strange, but not wrong.
These are the people Chuuya loves, people who have known him for years, and he doesn't
mind sharing his time, even if he doesn't know why or what is going on. Plus, before they
became his friends, they’ve already known his uncle for a while, so it’s actually not that
weird after all.
"Maybe you're getting scolded for something." Albatross giggles next to him, but his usual
playfulness is more tamed now.
"Like what?"
"Breaking more plates?"
"Don't listen to him, Chuuya." Lippmann pulls at the other's braid to stop him from talking
again. "It'll be fine."
"You guys seem more worried than me, though?" The redhead looks behind his shoulder at
the other three. "Did you skip doing chores again?"
String Man sighs, mock hurt in his eyes. "How can you accuse us of that every time?"
"Because you skip chores almost every day?"
Well, he doesn't have any actual proof of that, but with how all of them sometimes spend
hours just talking to him, Chuuya is fairly sure they're worse than his child self all these years
ago. It's not like only priests have responsibilities around here, especially when Adam is the
last one of that rank left.
Actually…
"How did you all meet, anyway?"
It's not directed at anyone specifically, just a question that, somehow, has never occurred to
Chuuya before. They would always mention his uncle with such familiarity and ease that the
redhead assumed they must go a way back, and Adam didn't say anything to point otherwise
either. More than that, he knew who Chuuya was talking about having only his first, childish
explanation of their nicknames.
"It's probably best..." Lippmann says slowly. "...if your uncle tells the story."
Well, that will work too, it's not that important who tells it. He’s just curious.
Chuuya looks at his uncle, waiting for an answer, but the man doesn't say anything, his eyes
look like he's not even listening at all, set straight ahead and clouded by too many thoughts.
"Uncle Adam?"
"Huh?" The man blinks in surprise, turning to face the younger. "Oh, sorry. Did you say
something?"
Narrowing his eyes at the other man, Chuuya makes his voice as firm as he can. "Are you
sure you're okay? Are you hurt again?"
"Getting lost in thoughts isn't lethal, kid.” The man snorts.
Maybe. It's not like Chuuya listens to everything that is going on around him all the time,
especially not recently. For his uncle, though, it is quite surprising, but he doesn’t look in
pain and if he says it’s nothing…
“What did you say before?" Adam tilts his head, and Chuuya is reminded that he did, in fact,
as a question not too long ago.
"I asked how you guys met."
Adam's eyes widen for a second. "Oh." Before he starts… laughing? Not as loud as usual, but
it doesn't seem fake either. "I guess I never mentioned that, did I?" He takes a deep breath and
looks ahead again.
"Well, it was around the same time I met your dear uncle Paul, actually."
And Chuuya hasn't heard that story either, so he makes a mental note to ask about it later. Or
next time he visits.
"When I was younger – and I mean before–becoming–a–priest young, old times, huh? –
things weren't as peaceful as they are now. There were some disturbingly big conflicts, not
quite wars but enough to make life really troublesome at times, especially for common folk.”
That much Chuuya knows, the older priests used to talk about the past a lot when he was a
child.
“I won't be giving you a history lesson right now, but let's say it was more convenient to
move around rather than stay in one place back then. I always had a thing for finding out
useful information when I was a child and, somehow, started working as a private
investigator when I was… fifteen? Sixteen? Something like that."
Chuuya also started working around that age, as most people do, but a private investigator?
That’s impressive.
"I travelled from town to town, solving simple cases and helping the local authorities.” A
chuckle. “Your uncle was one of my targets back then, actually."
Uncle Paul was his tar—
Hold on.
"Uncle Paul was your what?" The redhead isn't sure which is more surprising: the fact that
Verlaine was a wanted man, or that the image fits him.
"That may have sounded worse than I intended." Adam chuckles into his sleeve at the
memory. "He was a suspect for one of my cases, but he wasn't the culprit in the end. After
that we somehow ended up becoming acquaintances, then friends later on."
That is a little relieving to know. There’s still so much to ask about, but maybe it’s better to
do so when uncle Paul is also around…?
"Okay, but what about...?"
"They were all my suspects at some point, kid.” Adam says it as if it’s obvious, a simple fact
and not a premise of some questionable background. “It wasn't anything serious though, they
were not much younger than you are now, and we all just… stuck together after."
Chuuya isn't sure if he should ask what exactly they were all accused of, maybe it's better if
he doesn't know, it's long in the past now. However…
"So why are you all here?"
An ex–private investigator and five of his suspects, at a shrine, one of them being a priest.
His confusion is more than understandable.
"Well, as I said, things weren't exactly peaceful back then." Adam's smile turns more sour,
but it never fades completely. "We moved around and solved the cases together, we even
called ourselves The Flags – don't ask why, I don't even remember anymore – but that gained
us a bit too much attention at some point. The life we led got dangerous pretty quickly, while
being a priest is anything but that, so..."
They finally come to a stop. Chuuya hasn’t been paying attention to where they're going for a
while.
"...now we're all here."
It's an open space somewhere in the forest, the sounds of a nearby stream reaching Chuuya's
ears as he looks at his uncle in confusion. The area is nice, sure, like any other forest, a bit
cold but it's already mid–November, so it's not that surprising. There is one thing, though,
that catches the redhead's attention, something that has his eyes growing wider, his blood
turning cold and his mind going blank because he doesn't understand.
Well, maybe not one.
Maybe it's five things.
They look the same: hard, cold stones, each with a different name engraved on it.
Names Chuuya doesn't recognise. Something tells him he knows what they are, but the
redhead refuses to let that thought last, it can't be true.
"Wh… where are we?" He asks quietly, eyes glued to the five stones in front of him.
"I never actually wanted to be a priest." Adam simply says, walking closer to one of them and
brushing dried leaves off of it. "But that shrine was close by and—"
Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it!
"—I couldn't leave them behind. So I stayed."
Why would he say it? What does it mean?
Stay? Leave them?
"I..." Blue eyes look between the stones and Adam, a silent plea all too visible in the hurt that
starts pooling in them. "I don't understand, what..."
"I'm sorry, kid." The mass says, guilt ringing in his voice as he turns to face the boy. "I
shouldn't have kept it a secret from you, I—"
"Kept what from me?" Chuuya chokes out, his throat dry as he takes a step back. "What is he
talking about?" He looks at the other five standing next to him and they are all wearing the
same kind of sad smiles.
The kind that the redhead hates right now.
"Chuuya—"
"No!" The boy cuts his uncle off, his own voice startling him with how loud it sounds among
the forest’s silence. His breathing is becoming more uneven, eyes not sure where to look
anymore. "No, t–tell him!" He looks at Albatross, Lippmann, but they only keep smiling with
so much sorrow. "Tell him!"
Why won't they say anything? Why is Adam looking at him like that? What is this place?
Why are there five graves here?
"Chuuya..." Adam tries to come closer, but stops immediately when he sees the redhead
backing away. "Please, let me explain."
"Explain what?" He shakes his head. "I–I don't know these names." He looks at the grim
stones, pushing that one, very simple thought away. "I don't know them, so why..."
"Kid." Ah, Ice Man's voice is really cold at times, isn't it? Or rather, his words are. "We didn't
mean to lie."
Lie? What did they lie about? There’s nothing to lie about, so why—
"We kept the truth from you." Lippmann says, guilt painting his tone. "But we never meant to
hurt you."
The truth? What truth? There is nothing to hide—
"Kid—"
"Chu—"
"Stop!" Chuuya's head snaps to look at Adam, his eyes wet with the tears he's fighting to hold
back. "Why won't you listen?" He asks, his voice shaking. "They'll tell you it's not true,
they'll..."
"Chuuya." His uncle sounds patient, but there is pain underneath his every gesture. His smile
is sad, his eyes full of sorrow and guilt as they look around in an attempt to grasp something
beyond his reach. "I can't hear them."
But it's futile.
"I can't see them. I haven't seen them in two decades."
A familiar – too familiar – burn traces Chuuya's skin, tears uncontrollably falling down his
cheeks and leaving their trails on fire.
Two decades? But he talked to them less than ten years ago, he's talking to them now.
"But they're here." He gestures to where the five men are standing in silence. "H–how can
you not see them?" His thoughts go back to every time he talked with them, every time they
helped him when he was down, and… "Is this a joke?"
He’ll hate it if it is, but, please, let him hate it instead of forcing him to face it.
"It's not, kid—"
"Then how—"
"Because most humans can't see ghosts." It's not the voice Chuuya expected to hear, but it
also doesn't surprise him anymore. Nothing will surprise him at this point.
He turns around to see Dazai walking towards them, his expression painfully soft as his hand
rests on the boy's arm. "So your uncle can't see them. Only you can."
Why is Dazai here? Why is he playing this sick game Adam and his friends set up?
This isn't funny!
"B–but you talked to them." His mind tries to reason with everything that's happening, it's
trying to find a solution that would work, that would fit in a world Chuuya wants to believe
in..
"I'm not human, Chibi."

Oh… why are Dazai's ears and tails out? Why is he showing them to Adam? Why isn't his
uncle freaking out right now? What is going on?!
"He knew from the beginning." Adam's voice rings again, slow as if to stop it from shaking.
"And so did I."
…the beginning?
Chuuya's vision is blurry as he looks at the man standing next to the stones, his body is
trembling with the emotions he was meant to leave behind, and not fall victim to once again.
Sorrow, pain, grief – everything comes back, everything.
"That thing you did? With painting on your face?" There's nostalgia in Adam’s words, but it
doesn't only involve that one memory, does it? There’s more, isn’t there? "They used to do it
a lot when we were young."
But…
They are young, they don't look that much older than Chuuya, so what does he mean—
//They were not much younger than you are now.//
But wasn't that before Adam became a priest? Wasn't that over twenty years ago? They
should have changed, should have aged.
"A–Albatross." Chuuya's voice is nothing short of pleading. If his uncle won’t do it, then
maybe they will tell him what's going on. "Lippmann? Doc? St—"
"We really are sorry, kid." Albatross smiles at him, though it looks like he's holding back
tears himself. Tears that won't fall because they can't …
They always talked, but never came too close, never touched.
...because his tears are buried with his body.
Why?
Why does it all make sense? Why does it not?
And they all knew? From the beginning? Was Chuuya the only one who didn't? But that
means—
"N–no."
—that his friends are dead.
That there were never actually there. Did they talk to him just because Chuuya could see and
hear them? Was all of it a lie?
"No!" It's a desperate cry rather than a statement, his voice breaking down on a sob that rips
right through Chuuya's heart. He doesn't care about the stones with the names he doesn't even
know, he doesn't care about this place, or anything else, because what's the point? He always
loses it all. His parents, Shirase, his friends—
Why is death the only thing that never seems to leave his side?
What did he do to deserve all of this?
Chuuya isn't listening to what anyone is saying – not Adam, not Dazai – he isn't looking
where he's running. He only wants to get away. From Adam, from his friends, from
everything, because it only ever hurts.
When will it stop? When will he ever find anything that's real and here and not taken from
him before he can have it?
His eyes burn, his lungs feel like they're being pierced by a thousand cold needles. He can
feel the scars on his heart threatening to reopen at ever smallest thought of what he's just
seen, what he's just heard.
Why?
Why, why, why—
Another sob rips out of his chest, followed by a surprised yelp when Chuuya trips on a root
he didn't see. He loses balance, one arm extended while the other covers his head, waiting to
be met with the cold ground…
But he never falls down.
Because someone's arms are right there to catch him, someone's tail wipes the tears away
from his face.
"Chibi should really start being more careful."
When Chuuya opens his eyes again, he's met with an expression that hides compassion under
the many layers of neutral gentleness. Like the fox is trying not to show pity, like he's trying
to pretend that it isn't all so fucking unfair.
And he knew, Dazai knew and he didn't say anything—

"I understand if you're angry with me." It's like the kitsune can read his mind, his heart. "But
the reason why I didn't say anything was that I didn't think it was my decision. Not my story
to tell."
It's unfair how reasonable his words are, it's unfair how Chuuya can't even blame him for any
of this, because he's right.
"Why..." But just because Dazai is right, it doesn't mean the pain is any less. It doesn’t make
it any easier. "Why is death always there?" Chuuya's voice breaks, his eyes pleading for an
answer the kitsune cannot offer. "Is there something wrong with me? Is it—"
"There's nothing wrong with you, Chibi." The fox cups his face, thumbs brushing away the
tears that won't stop burning invisible trails on his cheeks. "This is something you couldn't
have changed no matter what, it happened too long ago."
"But..." Another sob. Another dagger to his already cut open heart. "But they're my friends."
They are dead. All of them.
"And you gave them something no one else could, little human.” Dazai tries to offer him
comfort, but it’s so hard to accept. “I know it hurts, but—"
"Chuuya?!"
Adam's voice calls out to him from behind, where the man is running towards them. He's
breathing heavily, his face is red from the cold, or exertion, or something else maybe. The
redhead looks at him and can't stop his heart from breaking at the sight because…
They are there, too.
It's his friends, Adam's friends, the ones his uncle refused to leave behind for twenty years
and the ones he can't even see.
They look worried, their eyes are filled with remorse, and it takes Chuuya back to all the
times he'd see the same look on their faces, never understanding why it was there. It takes
him back to all the times Adam listened to his stories without a word, all the times the man's
smile seemed to warm up in the most heartbreaking way. The days when his friends would
glance at the temple with sorry painted on their faces, never saying anything.
"Chuuya..." Adam breathes out his name as his hands rest on the redhead's shoulders when
Dazai steps away. "Kid, please, let me explain." He seems desperate, yet another thing that
makes guilt crawl around Chuuya's heart. But he can't face his uncle's pleading stare without
everything coming back to him, without everything hurting.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He whispers. "Why now?"
Would he be happier not knowing? Is he angry about not being told, or about being told after
everything he's already been through?
Is he angry in the first place?

"I'm so sorry.” Adam’s voice trembles. “I know I should have told you but..." His hands move
from Chuuya's shoulders to his head, stroking the red hair as they did so many times before.
"...you were just a child, and I couldn't do that to you. I didn't know how to tell you."
How would he react if Adam told him all of this ten years ago? Would he believe him?
Would he try to run away?
Deep down, Chuuya knows it does make sense to keep some secrets away from children, but
this is too much.
Especially when it's not just his pain, but also…
"But weren't you hurt?" He cries out, glancing to the sides to look at the ghosts standing
around them, five apologetic faces looking at him from behind Adam's back. "Weren't you
angry or..."
"No, no, of course not." The man leans down, looking right into wet, blue eyes. "I would
never be angry at you, kid."
"B–but..."
But Chuuya had something Adam couldn't, he spoke of his friends like they were right here –
because for him they were, and still are. He thought everything was so simple and that
everything was happy, while his uncle's heart must have been suffering.
Just like the redhead's heart does now.
It's being crushed by the realisation of how none of it was real, how none of it was ever
meant to be his. He was blind, he should have known better, should have noticed, he caused
so much harm—
"Chuuya, I am grateful to you."
…huh?
Adam's smile isn't that of untainted happiness, it's a smile born of sorrows and worry, of
regrets and relief.
"There was nothing I could do for them, not anymore, but in the stories you'd tell me as a
child..." The man takes a deep breath, a stray tear falling down his cheek. "...all of them
seemed so alive..."
But they aren't.
"...and happy."
But can they really be?
"I know it's not fair to you and I'm so, so, so sorry, but please believe me when I say you
didn't do anything wrong."
If he didn't do anything wrong, then why doesn't it feel right? Why does it hurt so much?
Why is the only thought left in him a cruel question—
"Was any of it real?" Chuuya isn't looking at his uncle anymore. Instead, he searches his
friend's faces for what he fears to be more lies. Which will hurt more, he wonders, for their
friendship to be true and unattainable, taken away by Death itself, or for it to be fake, leaving
all his memories worthless?
Which does he prefer?
Which does Chuuya wish for?
"Of course it was, kid." Albatross steps closer, offering a smile that's so genuine and so far
from where the redhead can grasp. "It is real."
"You're our friend." Lippmann adds. "Nothing will ever change that."
And maybe this is what Chuuya wanted to hear, what he needed to hear, but when he reaches
his hand out, trying to grab the material he sees so clearly—
There's nothing.
It's no different than trying to grab air.
It's not warmer or colder, there's no cloud or fog that would show his friends really are with
them. There is nothing other than the crashing feeling of watching how his hand seems to be
enough to reach for them but isn't. Chuuya can't reach any of them, no matter how hard he
tries, no matter how many times he pleads for it to be a mistake.
There are just some things none of them can change.
There is this past that cannot be undone.
Again.
Adam tries to keep Chuuya close, hugging him tighter every time the redhead sobs when his
hands are met with nothing but air. He whispers apologies that are met with screams, words
of reassurance that are met with more cries.
And Chuuya tries to accept it, he tries to understand even if his mind refuses to remember the
names he saw carved into the five stones. Because letting these names into his heart is still
too much, it's still too unreal.
He doesn't want to remember these deaths that happened before he was born, he wants to
remember his friends. His loud Albatross that grins too much, his kind Lippmann and quiet
Ice Man, his teasing String Man and a bit weird but friendly Doc. Them, not the people he
was never allowed to meet.
It takes a while, a long while, before his tears stop and his breathing calms down, and it takes
even longer for Chuuya to be able to listen to the full story.
They go back to the shrine, all of them, for once, sitting in the room they normally use for
meals and tea, though it doesn't actually feel like they're all there. Because there's a pair of
eyes that can only see a boy and a kitsune, and not the figures they must long to see – Adam's
eyes look so gentle while Chuuya feels guilty.
Why is it only him?
Why can't he give this gift, or this curse, to someone who deserves it more?
But he listens.
Listens to a story about a group of teenagers that were each other's family, teenagers that
turned into men while the world around them turned more violent. It's a story about how easy
it is to claim one's life, how easy it is to lose to bandits or to sickness, and how lonely it is to
be the last one alive.
…but it also tells a tale of friendship that lasts longer than life, of promises that don't end
with death. Of finding one's place in the world that seemed to have abandoned them, and of
pranks and secret messages passed to each other through a child with bright, blue eyes that
bridged the two worlds without realising it.
Chuuya listens to every word, every small laugh and forced down cry. He listens and he
doesn't fight it, but it is a lot to take in and, especially, accept.
In the end, they don't leave that day, or the next.
Dazai doesn't hide his fox ears or tails anymore and Chuuya spends most of the time with his
uncle and The Flags, slowly but gradually letting his heart heal once more. And when the day
for them to go back finally arrives—
"But you'll be alone."
—it's not as easy to let go as Chuuya thought it would be.
His uncle will be the only human left here, the only one keeping doing anything around the
shrine. What if he hurts himself again? Who will help him? How is Chuuya supposed to
know when the man needs help?
"Then visit your uncle more often." Adam only smiles at him, ruffling his hair. "I'll be fine,
kid. I promise."
"What if something bad happens and—"
"Chuuya, relax." The hand moves to squeeze his shoulder. "People from the village still visit
here almost every day, I will be just fine."
The redhead knows he doesn't have to worry too much, but it's only natural to him at this
point.
"Plus…" His uncle continues with a teasing smirk, his friends chuckling in the background.
"Your fox friend must be itching to go home after all this time."
Dazai lets out a snort, but doesn't comment, and Chuuya knows the kitsune will never admit
it, but… yeah, he probably does want to go back. Although, hearing Adam say it like that
reminds the redhead of one thing he somehow forgot to ask, the one thing that was never
explained while it should be one of the first questions he should have asked his uncle.
"How did you know he's a kitsune?"
Because it's not obvious, it shouldn't be obvious, and Chuuya feels stupid for not asking
sooner. But the older man only laughs at the question, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I've seen many things in my life, kid, and I've heard many names . Including his."
"And you weren't freaked out at all?"
"Well, I was surprised for a second," Adam's shoulders shrug. "but I figured he's the same
kitsune that lives close to where you grew up, so I assumed it would be fine—"
"You know about that too?" Chuuya cuts him off, almost offended.
It feels like he really should be visiting more often, not only to check if Adam is healthy but
also to have some very important conversations. It cannot be normal, even for a priest, to
know this much. Every answer he gets only brings more and more questions, giving Chuuya
a growing headache.
"Well, you mentioned seeing blue flames that didn't burn anything in the forest when you
were younger and that's pretty common for—"
"What?" The redhead stares at the man with furrowed brows. "When?"
"When you were sick." Adam's smile softens. "Fevers always made you say all kinds of
things."
Fair, that's not unusual, but why would anyone believe what a feverish child is saying? Also,
why would Adam let him go back to the village if he knew about the demon? Alone, while he
was still only a teenager?
But maybe that's a conversation for another day, when they have more time and aren't
standing by the shrine's gate, saying their goodbyes.
Chuuya lets out a fond sigh, shaking his head at how embarrassingly sweet and irritatingly
complicated his uncle can be. "Thank you for letting us stay here." For being there for him,
for helping Chuuya understand himself more even and for finally telling him the truth, even if
it hurt.
"Anytime, kid." The man pulls him in for a hug, one that lasts longer than before. "Now, go
say goodbye to the others."
They're not far, and Adam watches how the boy's red hair is blowing in the winds as he
laughs with… the people he can't see or hear. Not yet.
"Do take care of him, Mr Fox." He says quietly, still looking at Chuuya. "Take care or let him
go, but don't hurt him."
Dazai doesn't answer, but he doesn't have to. Somehow, Adam has seen how the fox is around
Chuuya, he's seen the way he looks at the boy – he doesn't doubt his intentions. But he's only
a man looking after a kid he came to love, he had to say it, even if only for himself.
They stay quiet for a moment, simply watching the redhead from a distance…
"Would you like to see them?" And it's Dazai that speaks up first. "It would only be for a
moment, but I can help you with that."
His dark eye looks at the priest, waiting for a sign to cast the spell but—
"No."
—the answer is something he didn't expect, something he doesn't understand.
Dazai blinks the confusion away, tilting his head to the side. "Why?"
Adam never returns the stare, he's content with simply watching Chuuya for as long as he
can. "It's not the time yet." He says with an unwavering smile, even if there is a single sparkle
of pain dancing in his eyes. "A single moment of happiness is worth more than anyone can
offer..."
It's not his time.
"...but the pain left behind after it fades can cost everything."
Dazai watches the man in silence, thinking about his answer and how… thought through it
was, like it's not the first time Adam considered it. He probably thought about talking to his
friends directly with Chuuya’s help in the past, actually talking and not sending coded
messages, but he never did.
Is it really better this way?
Is it really easier to witness how close your friends are while knowing you can never truly
reach or feel them? Doesn't it feel like he's waiting...
"But thank you for the offer."
…to die?
Whatever the man feels, whatever his mind sets out to do – it's his choices, not Dazai's.
Maybe a small part of the kitsune did grow fond of the man Chuuya loves so much, maybe a
part of him pities Adam for how his life turned out to be, but he can't change it. He won't try
if the human isn’t willing.
Despite how his uncle claims to be used to yōkai and the like, Chuuya still chooses to walk
down the mountain normally before using Dazai's flames to go back instead of having Adam
witness the two of them going up in flames. One last walk down this familiar path before he
parts with this place again, the place he is planning to come back to. Soon.
“Why can I see them?” Chuuya says after they reach far enough from the gate. “Why can't
uncle Adam?”
The kitsune seems to think about it for a moment, but…
“I don’t know.” He says. “You seem to be able to see and feel much more than a regular
human should, but…” Dazai glances down at him, peeking into his soul. “...I don’t know
why. I’m sorry.”
“Is there…?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Chibi.” Ah, of course Dazai would know where Chuuya’s
thoughts like to lead. “Your soul looks, smells and feels like that of a normal human, just like
your uncle’s.”
Somehow, it’s both reassuring and not.
But if even Dazai doesn’t sense anything weird about him, then maybe it really is only a
coincidence. A weird joke fate decided to play on them.
"Is it…” The boy starts again, slowly. “...normal for people to stay behind? Like The Flags?"
His question is quiet, too shy to even hope for what he knows is hiding behind his words, for
what he knows Dazai can hear in his words.
'Is it possible that Shirase...?'
Until now, Chuuya was too scared to ask, he's still terrified of letting his true question out. If
he doesn't allow himself to say it, to hope for it, it won't hurt….
"I'm afraid it’s not."
… as much.
He should have expected it, he should have known life would never make it easy for him.
"But it's not a bad thing, Chibi.” Dazai adds. “It means the soul has moved on. As they
should."
Even if Chuuya hasn't, not yet.
"Then why are they still here?" The boy asks, somewhat tired.
"I don't know, little human." Dazai stops, looking down at the redhead while one of his tails
strokes his arm gently, warming the redhead up. "It's likely they have a reason to, probably
the same one as your uncle, but..."
(Not every soul decides to stay. Some choose to let the living lead their lives without a
shadow of their past looking over their shoulder.)
"...I don't sense him in this world anymore."
//It's not a bad thing.//
Maybe it really isn't. Who is Chuuya to know such truths? He was thrown into this world he
knew nothing of and he's only just learning. One day, the answer may come to him, or maybe
he'll spend a lifetime searching but never finding it. There's no way for Chuuya to know it
now and there's no way for Dazai to tell him what the future holds.
But it's fine.
With his wounds healed and his mind clear, the redhead can take these steps on his own, he
can live this life without needing to be told where to go. His past left deep scars on Chuuya's
heart, scars that will forever remain, even after they have stopped hurting, but they won't hold
the redhead back from walking forward.
They won't stop his heart from beating and feeling alive.
Not everything is clear yet, not everything is easy, but they have time and—
"Let's go back home."
—one day, happiness will find its way to them.
"Yeah, let's go."
Chapter End Notes

...
.......well, at least this time angst is over for real and Chuuya is back to being himself :3
Did I have to give an angsty finale to angst arc? No. But I really liked this concept so
here we go~
Anyway! That marks the END of angst + recovery arc (part 1) and now we're off to
FLUFF. The next few chapter will be full of feelings and pinning and happiness and
then some smut as well.
It means the overall plot will slow dow a little, because we need to focus on their
relationship's development for a while, so bear with me and enjoy the fluff that is upon
us~
(don't worry, the reason why Chuuya sees Dazai's flames, ghosts etc WILL be revealed,
when the time for it comes)
Victory... for both?
Chapter Notes
For the first few days after coming back from Adam’s shrine, everything in Chuuya's life
feels... normal.
Too normal, maybe.
It’s nothing bad, of course. Settling back into a routine that soothes the remaining pain ever
so often taking over the redhead’s heart is one of the easiest things Chuuya has done recently.
Cooking meals, sometimes for all of them if he feels like it, going on walks around the forest
with Dazai and finally being able to talk with the Akutagawas like he used to – everything is
so new in its old domesticity, so right after a storm of wrongs and painful nights.
His mind is surprisingly calm, so much that it makes Chuuya wonder if it’s always felt like
this to be living every day without glancing in the past at every step, or if it’s peace he has
only just discovered. Falling asleep comes easier with every day, waking up doesn't feel like
a chore he’s forced to do. With every passing day, simply being alive seems—
Easier.
Like breathing, like feeling the breeze or the sunlight hit his skin. Always there, even when
Chuuya doesn’t focus on noticing it to reassure himself that it’s real.
He feels alive without having to prove it.
Even as December comes around and days don't last as long anymore, Chuuya finds himself
smiling. Sometimes it's at Ryuu's – failed – attempts at making jokes, sometimes it's because
of Gin's expressions when she hears her brother and tries hard not to laugh at him instead of
his words, and sometimes it's when Chuuya is with Dazai. When he brushes his tails in the
evenings when the stars illuminate the dark sky, when the fox shows him yet another place in
the forest Chuuya didn't know about before, now beautifully covered by the soft blanket of
fresh snow, or simply when they're talking about everything and nothing all the same.
It's the smiles that aren't forced.
The smiles that bloom from his heart, not his guilt. Honest ones.
Chuuya did have to fight his own demons to remember how to do it again. He fought his
silent battles for so long it feels like years have passed, but it was worth it. Seeing the world
in a palette of vibrant colours instead of black and grey, feeling the fresh air and not being
suffocated by it – Chuuya almost forgot what it meant to live his life, he almost gave up.
He's glad he didn't.

He's glad there are people who did their best to help him when his own mind wasn't enough
anymore. He’s glad he’s not alone and that there are people around him who will see him for
who he is even when Chuuya himself gets lost in the labyrinth of his own heart.
He’s thankful for being able to stay and try again.
And so, in a way, it is weirdly normal to feel like himself again after everything they’ve been
through. It’s like the things that have happened were a dream, if not for the consequences that
remain.
It tooks a few days of getting used to his old habits, of grasping at the ease with which his
conversations with Ryuu flow, but Chuuya’s newfound resolution made it much easier than
the boy thought it would be, and now—
"Are you serious? Like... never?"
—now he's glad he has people to share his days with. People he cares about.
"Yes, Chibi." Dazai looks at him, sparkles of both amusement and confusion dancing in his
dark eye as his brow disappears behind the dark bangs. "I'm somehow amazed you thought
otherwise."
Well, it's not like Chuuya actually believed Dazai would spend his time doing something like
this. Even his wildest imagination couldn't help him picture the kitsune doing something so
simple and human, but he also didn't expect it to be such an extreme case.
"How can you not know what a snowman is?"
It's not even about trying to make one, but about simply knowing.
"Should I remind you that I'm, putting it simply, a demon? Why would I try to research what
human children do in their free time?"
Fair, surprisingly so.
But Chuuya still believes that someone who claims to have lived for centuries should have
seen such an occurrence at least once. By accident, if nothing else. Besides…
"It's not just children that make them." Chuuya crosses his arms on his chest, an obvious
frown forming on his face. "Adults do it, too."
They're sitting in the main room of the residence, drinking tea and watching as the snow
slowly falls upon the garden through the open door. It's been snowing for a couple of days, a
thick layer of white fluff already blanketing the ground and trees all around them. It’s cold,
but it never reaches Chuuya, most likely to the spella cast around the house.
It’s nothing the redhead would have brought up out of the blue, too insignificant and, frankly,
too unlike any of the demons’ pastime activities. He wasn’t even trying to navigate the
conversation towards it, it just happened. They’ve been sitting here for a long time now,
switching from one lazy topic to another, purely to fill the silence stretching inside the room.
This conversation started with a simple story of how Chuuya's dad hated the cold, winter
being the time the man would rarely go out unless he absolutely had to, while the redhead
found himself quite fond of it.
Maybe not of the temperatures per se, but of what winter would always bring with its long
nights—
Snow.
Leaving footprints on the freshly fallen surface, snow fights with other kids from the village,
and having competitions to see who can make the biggest snowman. It was something so
simple, yet so important to his childish mind, something to hold onto as he grew up and
forget that life was once so much easier. It was fun, it continues to stay beautiful every year
and with no work to distract Chuuya, all the memories came flooding back.
Until Dazai asked what a 'snowman' is.
Not why children do it, not how it started, no – what it is.
"Oh my~" And now that the kitsune knows, Chuuya feels like he's entering a very dangerous
territory of their conversation. "Does Chibi want to play in the snow?"
—and he's right, because that tone is dripping with tease.
"No." He leans against the wall, glaring at the fox. "I'm educating you, that’s all."
Tilting his head, the fox hums, his lips twitching at the corners. "You're awfully invested in
this 'lesson'."
"You're imagining things." His level of investment is normal, thank you very much. Chuuya
also refuses to be the only one to blame for staying on this topic longer than necessary. He
sends the other a smirk, a challenge in his voice. "Maybe it's you, who wants to play."
Aren’t foxes quite fond of snow as well?
Dazai's tails tremble as the kitsune chuckles. "I'm sure you'd like that, hm, little human?"
Honestly, when he's talking to Dazai, Chuuya is rarely sure of what he actually wants and
what he is led to believe, the only instinct he's following is the voice telling him to fight the
fox, to never back down from a challenge. To never let the fox win against him, against his
pride.
Compared to the troubles that have been clouding his mind for the past few months, this may
be considered childish but, gods, does it feel good to let go sometimes.
"Seeing you failing at a 'child's play' would be more than amusing, yes." Chuuya muses,
already imagining Dazai getting frustrated over now knowing how to make a snowman.
"Ah, what a stubborn Chibi." The kitsune shakes his head, letting out a mocking sigh. "But,
unfortunately for you, I do not 'fail' at things."
"No?" Chuuya raises a brow, his eyes daring. "How about you try cooking, then?"
It's not like the kitsune ever said anything about it, and his lack of offering to cook isn't that
strange either – he’s the ‘master’ of this house, or so he likes to call himself – but it's the best
guess the redhead can make. As far as Chuuya knows, Dazai doesn't actually need food, not
to the same extent as humans do, which means he most probably never tried making
anything, and considering the fact that both Ryuu and Gin aren't getting any better even after
trying to learn…
Well, it's a challenge Chuuya threw at him but, deep inside, the boy hopes the fox won't try to
prove him wrong.
Or worse – prove him right.
"Without your magic tricks, of course." Because Chuuya is still reluctant about eating or
drinking anything that was mady with a spell after that one medicine he was given in the past.
Dazai seems to consider it, which speaks volumes already, his eye looking over the redhead
as his tails sway and his fox ears slowly perk up when his grin widens—
"Well, I could do it." Chuuya can't exactly pinpoint why, but a shiver runs down his spine at
the sole possibility. "But why should I, when I have this Chibi around and all too eager to do
it himself?"
"I'm not a servant anymore, am I?" Even if the boy finds the time he spends preparing their
meals a calming experience.
There's no change in Dazai's expression or his tone, the only sign of how the question
managed to catch him off–guard is how one of his tails stills for a second. "No.” He says,
ever so nonchalant. “You're not."
Exactly.
"So I don't need to cook for you, especially since you claim you don't actually need it."
Somehow, that makes the fox narrow his eye. "Ryuu and Gin don't need it either."
"But they like my cooking, not just find it convenient." Chuuya huffs, a smirk stretching on
his lips when he sees one of Dazai's ears twitch with something that feels like annoyance.
"And they're nice to me."
There's also the fact that eating alone doesn't feel as normal as it once did, and having
company that only watches him eat can be more than uncomfortable, no matter how much
Chuuya likes the Akutagawa siblings. When the tradition first started, it was the redhead that
would ask them if they wanted to eat together, and then it simply stuck around, which
Chuuya is grateful for.
"Oh?" Dazai's eye sparks with curiosity, mirth painting his tone. "And I am not nice?"
Well, maybe Chuuya should have been a bit more careful with his words because that is a
very tricky question. Dazai isn't exactly the definition of a 'nice' person, but…
He does have a caring side, a side that he allowed himself to show openly when Chuuya
needed it, and he can be kind. Uncle Adam wouldn't allow them to go back together if he saw
the fox as someone purely cruel, he would have said something but he hasn’t, and he’s the
best judge of character Chuuya knows.
However, Dazai’s usual nature is that of an annoying fox, playing with everyone's mind,
teasing and pushing Chuuya to the limits of his patience. Some comments have already
earned the kitsune a snowball throw during one of their walks, other remarks make Chuuya
roll his eyes hard enough to get a headache.
Which isn’t something a nice person would do, or act like.
But even so, the boy can't say he hates any of it.
The kind words and soft whispers are what got him through the lonely, dark moments of his
breakdowns, yes, but it's the teasing that feels so… right.
It's their usual bickering that makes Chuuya's blood boil with irritation and something else
that doesn't have a name yet. There isn't any easy answer, not if the redhead doesn't want to
have to explain these feelings he doesn't yet understand himself but—
"Since when are kitsunes supposed to be nice?"
—for moments like these, they have their own language to convey what they mean without
voicing the words they don’t have.
Dazai tilts his head at that, lips curled up in a way that shows the sharp fangs hidden behind
them. "Since when are adult humans supposed to be this small?" And, of course, it always
comes back to this when Chuuya has to deal with the fox's amused self.
"I'm not small!" He still has time to grow, he's only twenty. "Stop calling me that!"
"Oh, but you are~"
"No.” Chuuya cuts in. “You're just cheating with these..." He tries to frown, but his lips
always curl up involuntarily when he looks at the top of Dazai's head. "...fluffy ears." The
boy ends up mumbling.
It seems that the kitsune didn't expect him to use that adjective, because it takes Dazai a
heartbeat too long to process what the redhead said, a heartbeat long enough for Chuuya's
face to start heating up once he himself realises what he's just said. It was unintentional, in a
way, it’s just how he usually refers to Dazai’s fur in his head, but…
Oh, this will not be forgotten easily.
They're both aware of it when the fox's mouth stretches into a grin, playful humming ringing
in the room that suddenly feels much warmer.
"Oh, but even without my fluffy ears ..." How does he make something so cute sound so
mocking? Is this some kind of fox’s magic? "...Chibi is still much shorter."
Unfair, but true.
"He's smaller than even my tails~"
Okay, that is very much not true.
"I'm not!"
"I think you are."
"And I think I'm not going to compare myself with a fucking fox in disguise." The redhead
snorts, trying to sound more indifferent than offended. And failing at it.
"I truly hate to break it to you, little human," Well, Dazai doesn't sound sorry about whatever
he's going to say. "but my fox form is still taller than you."
See, this is the one piece of information that, heartbreakingly so, doesn't come as a surprise to
Chuuya, not after seeing Ryuu's wolf form, but he doesn't want to let it show on his face. He
can't have Dazai seeing him admitting his… situation himself, especially not compared to an
animal.
Or a demonic animal, whichever fits more.
"I've never seen you use it.” He says, matter–of–factly, the back of his head hitting the wall
behind him. “So it doesn't count."
Not that Chuuya isn't curious about it, because he is. There are times where he catches
himself thinking about how Dazai looks in his other form. Would he be all white? Or maybe
white and brown? How many tails would he have, all nine of only one? Would his fangs be
even sharper than they already are? Would he still be covering his body in bandages?
He’s curious, but he can't ask to see it. It's probably impolite, or offensive, or inadequate, but
most of all – Chuuya doesn't want to seem eager about it. He’ll be damned before he gives
Dazai another thing to tease him about so easily.
While Chuuya tries to look unbothered, the kitsune nonchalantly picks up his tea cup again,
sipping the drink with a quiet hum. "No, I guess you haven't." Then, his dark eye looks up
with a raised brow as he grins into his cup. "Is Chibi interested in seeing it~?"
Yes. No.
Maybe?
"...why would I?" But he's never going to admit it.
"You tell me." Dazai muses. "Why is your heartbeat getting faster all of a sudden?"
Let it be known that Chuuya hates demons and their annoying senses that give them too
much advantage. "Because you're getting on my nerves." He huffs, struggling with trying to
get his body under control.
Dazai cocks his head to the side, too pleased with himself. "So you don't want to see it?" It’s
a question, but at the same time, it’s not, because—
Not fair, not fair, not fair.
The redhead knows what that fox is doing, he also knows his attempts at not making his
answer obvious have been royally unsuccessful. He can save his face by saying that no, he
doesn't want to see it, but what if he'll never get another chance? Because Dazai can and will
be petty later on.
With his arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line, Chuuya stares at the kitsune, fighting
both the other’s amused gaze and his own internal conflict. Is it worth it? Is it not? Will Daza
actually do it if he asks?
How much teasing will Chuuya have to endure later...?
…but, not for the first or the last time, curiosity eventually wins.
His blue eyes look to the side as the redhead murmurs quietly: "...I didn't say that." Which
isn't an answer, but it's not a 'no' either. It’s a way to give him more time to think.
"So what is Chibi saying?" Too bad Dazai is set on making it as hard as possible despite
knowing very well what Chuuya means.
Ugh. "I'm not forcing you to do anything."
"I know, but it's not like I mind." Gods, his voice sounds so pleased with the whole thing. Or
maybe with Chuuya’s misery, who knows. "If you were to ask nicely..."
Is it too late to start acting sad, manipulating Dazai into doing it by himself to cheer Chuuya
up?
Probably.
Ah, what a wasted opportunity.
"..." But not throwing a hot drink at the fox should be considered nice enough if you ask
Chuuya. "I wouldn't mind seeing it."
Dazai hums, his tails flickering happily on his sides.“It's not the same as wanting to see it, is
it?"
It's decided, Dazai is not getting any meals from him any time soon. The fox isn’t the only
one who knows how to be petty.
"I may be a little curious." And his cheeks may be getting a little darker, heartbeat even faster
than before no matter how hard Chuuya tries to stay calm.
"Curious, huh?"
This fucking fox—
"Continue pushing it and I'm not brushing your tails for a month." He doesn’t use it often, but
blackmail isn't beneath him. If it works, Chuuya is willing to use it anytime.
It's desperate and the redhead isn't actually sure if it'll work – the fox didn't care about any of
it before they met, why would he now? – but the kitsune does fall silent after his words. His
face doesn't say anything, but his tails twitch in the specific manner Chuuya has learnt to
recognise. They always do that when Dazai is planning something. When he's thinking about
being a menace and calculating his chances.
Maybe Chuuya can use his meals as blackmail, too…
"So stubborn." The fox sighs, putting his cup down. "Not even a single 'please' from this rude
Chibi."
Oh, that is not happening—
"But" A red sparkle flashes in Dazai's dark eye, the smile overly innocent and dripping with a
promise of a trap. "since I'm such a nice person, I'll allow it."
Everything in Chuuya wants to argue with that statement, but he forces his words back,
pressing his lips even tighter to stop any unnecessary comments from escaping right now. He
told Dazai not to push it and he shouldn't try doing it either, not when he has won.
Well, almost won, because the kitsune is still in his usual form.
Not that he thinks about it... if the fox really keeps his bandages on, how will that work? How
much do they cover?
Regardles—
"So… you're going to do it?" Maybe his voice betrays how excited Chuuya is a bit too much,
but who can blame him?
"Am I going to prove how tiny Chibi is compared to – ah, what was it? – a fox in disguise?"
Dazai grins, dark and satisfied with himself. Maybe getting to see it is not such a good thing
after all. "How could I pass on such an opportunity?"
Chuuya glares at the kitsune, but doesn't say anything, not until the other gets up and walks to
the… door?
"Huh?" The redhead blinks in confusion. "Where are you going?"

The fox chuckles, turning his head to look at the boy over his shoulder as he steps out of the
room and into the garden. "I don't want to destroy my house when I change~"
Is he...?
"You are not bigger than this room!"
...right? That would be too unfair, even for Chuuya's shitty luck. Especially when the room
isn't small to begin with, nothing in his house is.
"I guess we'll have to see~"
The redhead prefers to believe this is nothing but a simple scheme to make him annoyed and
nervous, which may or may not be working. When Dazai steps out, leaving footsteps in the
fresh snow and not stopping until he's a good few metres away from the house, Chuuya also
stands up, rolling his eyes in an obvious manner. He doesn't follow the fox, but only leans on
the doorframe, looking at the other with one brow arched high, daring.
"Have you had enough of showing off?" Because his mind refuses to believe all of this is
actually necessary.
"Oh, little human." Dazai turns to face him again, his eye shining bright red. "I haven't even
started yet."
Whatever comeback may have wanted to slip past Chuuya's lips, no words leave him when
the air around the kitsune starts shining with blue sparkles quickly growing into bright
flames. The small fires dance around the tall figure standing in the snow, swirling around him
until they cover Dazai completely. Then, the flames grow, burning higher and higher like a
blue tornado, wider with every swirl.
It grows and grows and—
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Well, at least the room is intact, the boy supposes. Though the same can't be said about
Chuuya's pride.
The fox's fur is pure white, like the snow that covers the world around them, and it looks
softer than ever before. It's longer around the kitsune's neck, on his chest and around the ends
of his legs. Nine tails stretch behind him, framing his figure like a halo, blue flames shining
at the tip of each tail. There are no bandages hiding Dazai from Chuuya's eyes, nothing but
air separating the two. The fox's ears are a little longer now, a few longer strands of fur at
their ends and a red eye watching the human from above.
From way above.
There isn't anything covering his right eye now, but the kitsune still keeps it closed. He's
sitting down, only his front legs stretched out and it's a horror to realise that, even as he's
standing on the house's elevated floor, not on the ground, Chuuya barely reaches the fox's
neck.
Not to mention that, right now, Dazai's tails actually are longer than the human – they would
never all fit even in the biggest room in this house.
Fucking unfair.
"Is something wrong, Chibi~?" Just like Ryuu, the kitsune doesn't need to open his mouth for
his voice to ring through the air, and the boy can only think one thing:
Yes, everything is wrong.
Like how the aura around the kitsune isn't the usual, annoying one, but how it feels more...
dignified. How Dazai doesn't seem like just a too large animal with extra tails, but like
something more, powerful and majestic.
And his height is making Chuuya's blood boil.
"There's always something wrong with you..." The redhead murmurs, not willing to admit to
his defeat.
"Maybe." The fox laughs, or growls, hard to say. "But it doesn't change the fact that I was
right."
He steps forward, his front legs moving closer and melting the snow around his paws, until
the black tip of his nose is inches away from Chuuya's face and…
Why does it look like Dazai's fur shines with silver at the ends? Is it a play of light or is it
real? It’s beautiful and…
But that thought gets pushed aside when blue eyes are met with a large, crimson orb staring
right at him, a sight the redhead imagines is what rubies must look like.
"Wouldn't you agree, little Chibi?" Cold, winter air mixes with the fox's hot breath, washing
over the boy like a gentle breeze.
"..." His hands itch with the need to reach out and feel the soft fur, but Chuuya is stronger
than that. If nothing else, he’s still stubborn. "You're still a shitty fox."
"And you're still a sma—"
"Okay, okay, I get it!"
Is his annoyance a good enough excuse to touch the fox while pretending to push his face
away? He's not sure, but it works.
...and, as expected, it's so soft and warm.
And if the fur on the kitsune's face is this soft, then his tails must be even more, Chuuya
could probably hide himself completely if only—
Woah, no.
He's not going there. Physically or mentally.
His fingers stay buried in the white fur for a bit longer than necessary though, and, of course,
Dazai notices that simple fact right away.
"Is Chibi enjoying my 'fluffy' fur?"
Gods, can they please pretend Chuuya never used that adjective? There are only so many hits
to his pride that the redhead can take and Dazai must have made a vow to bring that up every
chance he gets.
"You wish." The boy huffs, taking his hand back as his cheeks start to heat up. "You're just a
bigger menace now, there is nothing to enjoy."
"No?"
"No." Obviously.
"I can still hear your heartbeat, remember?"
Annoying shitty fox and his annoying demon senses. But punching him now, in this form, just
doesn't feel right, or safe, or like something Chuuya should be doing when faced with a
creature this breathtaking.
"Don't flatter yourself." The redhead says, glaring at the jewel–like eye. "It's only because I'm
wary of these fangs you're hiding."
A half–truth, good enough.
"Oh my~" The huge head tilts slightly, moving closer than before. "First my fur, now my
fangs? Someone here is needy~"
"You're fucking delusional, you know?"
"I'm observative, little human.”
"You know," Chuuya crosses his arms again, a frown forming on his face. "I think I'd like it
better if your fox self couldn't talk so much." Or at all, for that matter.
"And I think you're bitter because you're so tiny."
Ah, yes, it really was a mistake.
"But..." The fox continues. "...I already said I'm a nice person—"
"Nice where—"
"— so , I'll give Chibi a present to make sure he doesn’t stay mad too long."
Before Chuuya can say he doesn't need any presents – he doesn't trust it not to be something
the other will use to tease him later – the fox stands up on all four legs and leaps forward,
straight at the boy.
Apparently, Dazai has gone crazy, because he's going to destroy the house and crush the
redhead while he's at it. Being buried alive in his fur isn't a present the redhead would like,
thank you very much.
But as Chuuya stumbles backwards, tripping and falling on the floor, he realises that nothing
looks destroyed or crushed. He's fine, and Dazai…
"Was Chibi scared I'd eat him?"
...Dazai is standing right in front of him, but much smaller now.
"What the hell?" It's the only thing the boy can say, looking at the kitsune – who's now not
that much larger than a big dog – with confused eyes. A big dog with nine tails and blue
flames dancing around it.
"That was my normal height," Dazai explains, watching as Chuuya stands up to finally be
taller than him, even if it's not by much. "but I can make myself smaller if I want to."
He's still not sure if he can believe it to be a present Chuuya can appreciate, or another
addition to his future teases, but…
Okay, this does feel nice.
It's also a little dangerous, because now the redhead's hands itch even more and his mind can't
stop thinking that, even if the fox has a dignified aura around him, he looks… well, cute.
Somehow.
And that thought is terrifying. Because it's Dazai.
It's the same annoying demon that teases Chuuya about everything and anything, the same
kitsune that has killed many people over the centuries and that never misses a chance at
making other people’s life a misery.
...only now, he is looking up at the redhead with this small tilt to his head and with one ear
flopped and—
"...not fair."
—how can Chuuya not smile at the sight?
"Hm?" Dazai sits down again, his tails slowly wrapping around himself, like an overgrown
ball of white fur. "I thought Chibi would like it."
Oh, he was very right.
"I do." The redhead nods with a soft chuckle. "You're very... nice." He'll probably regret
saying that, but that’s a problem for later.
"Oh? So I am —"
See? The kitsune never gives up.
"Don't push your luck, Dazai."
Then, another thought blooms in his mind, one that is equally as tempting as it is dangerous
for Chuuya's heart. It's not something he can just ask for, no, because that would require him
to acknowledge the fact that a part of him wants it. Which isn't true, he doesn't want it.
He's just... curious, that's all.
"...say." Chuuya clears his throat awkwardly, feeling his fingers tremble. "Can you make
yourself just a little bigger?" He's fumbling with the hem of his sleeve, his face getting
warmer. "Like... my size more or less?"
Dazai blinks at him, confused, his flopped ear perking up again. "Sure?"
Then, the air sparkles with blue again, but not with full flames like before, until Chuuya is on
eye level with the fox, feeling the heat radiating from the other. The change in height also
caused the kitsune to be closer than before, his tails brushing the redhead's legs.
"Thanks." The boy says it without thinking, more on an instinct than anything else.
"Chibi?"
"Just so we're clear:" Chuuya blurts out quickly. "this was originally your idea, not mine."
Which must make the fox even more confused, because his tails sway a little above the floor,
his head cocking to the side. "Huh?"
Now, he can't do it quickly, he doesn't want to seem too eager, but he also doesn't want it to
be awkward. Which it's going to be anyway, but details. He doesn’t have a plan, such an
opportunity was never an option Chuuya considered possible, but…
The redhead takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly to muster the courage before stepping
closer and—
Oh, it’s really nice.
To feel Dazai's fur so close to his body, his chest, nuzzling his face into the crook of the fox's
neck and feeling his warmth. Faintly, Chuuya can feel the kitsune’s heart beating in his chest,
every move of his muscles under the fur. The boy’s arms wrap around the other’s neck,
fingers running through the soft fields of white and silver…
For a second, Dazai must be too surprised to register just what is going on, but then—
//What if there were more warm memories instead?//

—then, Chuuya can feel the tails stroking his back and the side of the kitsune's head pressing
into his hair.
"Yeah, it was my idea..."
And he can help but wrap his arms around Dazai's neck tighter, hugging the fox and burying
his face more into the fur that feels like home.
"...Chuuya."
Chapter End Notes
It may have been a filler chapter in a way, but they need to be stupid together sometimes
AND I LOVE KITSUNEZAI'S FOX FORM SO MUCH
Relationship development in progress~

A Request
Chapter Notes
He may have said it before already, but the thought keeps coming back to his mind more
often than not these days: his life here isn't bad in any way, it's simply getting too normal for
Chuuya's liking.
Or rather, too undemanding.
The redhead doesn't crave dangerous adventures, far from that, but there's only so much he
can do around the residence. His conversations with Dazai, Ryuu and Gin are something he
looks forward to every day, they're always interesting, or at least nice, and the demons try to
keep him occupied with long walks, or new books every day, but…
It's so different from the life he's led until now, from the life he was used to.
Now, there's nothing he explicitly has to do, nothing he's expected to do, and some may say
it's like a dream come true – to be able to live without worrying about money, or food, or a
roof over his head – but for Chuuya it's weird. And it starts making him more and more
restless.
At first, he starts experimenting with his cooking. It never comes out bad per se, but Chuuya
won’t deny that some combinations simply aren't meant to be, and then he even thinks about
cleaning the whole house again just to keep himself busy. Not out of obligation or anything
like that, but out of the simple urge to do something that would feel like his own thing.
And that small change is very easily picked up by a certain fox.
Dazai finds him in the kitchen – the redhead is frowning at the pot hanging over the small
fire, a soup with too many too specific ingredients boiling inside it. It doesn't smell bad –
strong, yes, but not bad – and it'll surely be healthy if nothing else, so there's no problem
other than the strange tension in Chuuya’s body.
"Are you busy?" The kitsune asks, leaning on the doorframe with his hands hidden in the
sleeves of his kimono.
Usually, there would be Ryuu or Gin with the boy, but Chuuya wanted to try this new recipe
alone in case it turns out too... weird for the wolves' amplified senses. And, maybe, he also
wanted to do something by himself, not needing anyone else’s help for once.
"Hm? No, not really." He keeps staring at the vegetables swimming in the light brown broth.
"Do you need something? Because if this is about the food, then even I haven't tried it yet."
And there is no way Chuuya is allowing Dazai to be the first taste–taster.
"Yes, I can see that." Dazai snorts, a tingle of amusement in his voice. "But no, I don't need
anything."
"Okay?" Chuuya looks up for a moment, confused but still stirring the soup. "Why are you
here then?"
"Well, this is my house~"
"And this is your kitchen that you've avoided for centuries."
"Rude." The fox waves the comment away with his hand, one of his ears twitching. "I came
here to talk to Chibi about something since he refuses to speak up himself."
'Refuses' is a big statement if you ask Chuuya. There isn't anything worth mentioning or
talking about, but nothing good ever comes out of trying to make Dazai change his mind, and
trying to punch the fox while standing so close to the fire and a pot with boiling soup doesn't
qualify as a clever idea. He knows the kitsune will get whatever he wants sooner or later,
there’s no point in pretending otherwise.
Chuuya looks back at his dinner with a exasperated sigh. "That something being...?"
"What is bothering you?"
Ah, so he's getting straight to the point. Both very like and un– like Dazai.
"Nothing." The answer comes quickly. The redhead doesn’t have to think about it too much
or try to make the act believable, because it isn't exactly a lie. "Can't I try a few new recipes
simply because I feel like it?"
"You cleaned the bath too."
A shrug. "So?"
"You cleaned it twice." Dazai clarifies, his words making Chuuya's stubborn frown deeper.
"In a single day."
"...so?"
There's nothing wrong about trying to keep the house tidy and not buried under blankets of
dust accumulated over centuries. The kitsune may not mind it, but now Chuuya is living here
too now, and he very much minds it when instead of air, it’s dust that fills his lungs..
Who cares if one day isn't long enough for dust to accumulate and be noticeable?
Chuuya can hear Dazai pushing away from the door and stepping closer, and he really should
have looked up earlier to see just where he was going, because when the kitsune's voice rings
right next to his ear, and his brown locks tickle the skin on his neck, Chuuya's whole body
jumps.
"Chibi." And then, his back is pressing into a much wider chest behind him. Very
unintentionally, of course, it's Dazai's chest or the hot pot in front of him – the choice can be
only one. "What is going on?"
Well…
At the moment, a lot is going on. Starting with how the redhead's mind just stops for a long
second, trying to grasp at what is going on around him. It's nothing too unfamiliar to feel
Dazai's body so close, ever since their visit to uncle Adam's shrine they have been much
more physical than before, in a sense.
It’s all mostly natural touches, of course: Chuuya trying to punch the fox for his annoying
remarks, the kitsune poking him on the face for the most random reasons, their arms brushing
when they walk or sit too close to each other… a few hugs here and there that happen purely
for the sake of Chuuya getting used to Dazai calling him by his name and nothing more.
The point is: it's nothing special for the fox to stand so close, and there is no need for the
redhead's body to feel this... weird about it. He’s not worried, or at least he doesn’t think so,
but…
It must be the fire that makes his skin heat up and his mind was just surprised for a moment
there, hence the frantic heartbeat.
"It's dangerous!" Chuuya’s voice doesn't come out as confident as he'd like it to, but how is
he supposed to be serious when he has to tilt his head all the way back to look at the kitsune
who, annoyingly so, has straightened up. "I could have burnt myself!"
But Dazai only raises his brow at him. "I wouldn't let that happen."
Chuuya knows it, they both do, but getting annoyed is easier than letting his thoughts look for
a second meaning to this simple fact of not wanting to let him get hurt. Especially since
Dazai makes it sound so obvious, like the sole fact that Chuuya thought about it doesn’t make
any sense.
"Thanks, good to know." The boy huffs. "Can you move now?"
But Dazai remains still behind him, not moving back even an inch as his tails cut off any
escape routes Chuuya may have had before.
"Only if Chibi tells me what's wrong."
He could try pushing the fox away with his own body, but the redhead isn't going to let Dazai
tease him about it, should he fail. And he most likely would, considering one of them is a
demon.
"Ugh, fine." He still elbows the fox weakly just as the kitsuen takes a step back, coming
around the fireplace to face him fully. "But nothing is wrong."
"Ch—"
"Really." Another sigh, one that's full of defeat, because Chuuya is sure the fox won't let it
go, he can see it in his stiff ears and tails. "I feel fine, everything is fine, it's just..."
"Just...?" Dazai tilts his head, his eye watching every smallest change in Chuuya’s
expression.
"It's just a little... repetitive."
He doesn't want to say 'boring' because that would feel like insulting all of their efforts to
keep him alive and happy, but it's close. Sure, his life before coming here wasn't anything
special, he did the same things almost every day, but it was what he chose for himself.
His hobbies, his work. It may have been hard on some days, Chuuya may have been
overworking himself from time to time, or not making as much money as he’d like to, but at
least he felt like it had a meaning. He could grow, learn new things and expand his skills – he
had control over his life, however little, and now…
Chuuya knows he still has this control, he knows the demons aren’t forcing anything onto
him, but he also doesn’t feel the drive to look forward to the next day more than usual, and he
misses that.
Dazai blinks, confused, one of his fox ears turning to the side. "And that's bad?"
At this point, the redhead isn’t even surprised. The kitsune probably spends most of his days
the same way he has done for years without an end, but that’s where they’re different. Dazai
has grown used to the repetivity, while Chuuya is only starting to experience it for the first
time.
"No, it isn't." Which is part of the problem. "I just need something to do."
"And that something is cooking and cleaning?" More or less. Not exactly, but it works. At
least for now. "But isn't it just as repetitive as anything else?"
"It is." Chuuya admits, walking away to grab a bowl for himself. "But I've been doing it
almost my entire life, it's a good kind of repetitive." The redhead pours some of the soup for
himself, too reluctant about offering Dazai a portion just yet. He needs to make sure it's
nothing that will only bring him more teasing remarks later.
Meanwhile, the fox seems to consider his words, the tails swaying to the sides slowly behind
his back.
"So..." He says slowly, watching the other try his new recipe. "...doing what you used to do
helps?"
Chuuya doesn't answer with his words, only nodding as he swallows the hot liquid. It's decent
actually, better than he thought it would be. Maybe he can keep this recipe in mind for the
future—
"Why won't you start painting again, then?"

The redhead's hand stops halfway between the bowl and his mouth, a small spoon still in the
air when he realises…
Oh.
Right.
He forgot about that.
… how did he forget about something that has kept him fed for five years?
He used to spend his whole days painting for his clients, his friends, and it's always been
something so easy to get lost in. Never boring, never a chore, no matter how frustrated he
would sometimes get with his own works when inspiration simply wasn’t there. Chuuya
loves playing with his works and using new techniques, exploring how far he can push his
style, and he does have enough supplies here, Dazai would occasionally watch him paint in
the evenings before everything crumbled around them.
"That's..."
But just as his heart brightens with newfound hope, his mind forces him to remember, to
understand why he pushed the idea of painting away from himself and chose to forget about
it.
"...a no."
At that, the kitsune sounds genuinely surprised, his tails stilling behind him. "Why?"
And the answer is very simple, really.
"Because I don't know how." Chuuya says, eyes set on the vegetable bits in his bowl. "I
mean, I don't know what to paint." He continues eating his soup, pretending he can't see how
Dazai tries to make sense of his words.
"But you did before?" The fox asks carefully, as if he's not sure whether he's allowed to push
further.
Chuuya gives him a nod.
"And now you don't?"
Another nod.
"...why?"
Shrugging, the redhead places his empty bowl on the pile of plates waiting to be washed. "It
used to be my job, so what I painted was what my clients wanted, their requests and all."
Not always, though.

"And when I painted for myself… I don't know, ideas were just there somehow, and now I
can't think of anything."
It's likely a result of what he's been through, his inspiration taking longer to come back than
his peace of mind. The world’s colours reach his eyes, but not his mind, the patterns that he
sees around him take away his breath, but his hands can’t follow them. He’s forgotten how to
make the ink come to life under his fingers.
But now that Dazai mentioned it, Chuuya misses the feeling of creating art, of a brush tracing
lines on whatever material he uses to paint on. He misses the freedom it always gave him,
how calm and focused his mind would be. That sigh of relief once it’s done, the satisfaction
in his chest, or even the tingle of frustration as he’d notice his own mistakes.
All of it.
The fox looks at him, eye narrowed as he's trying to understand the redhead's words, his
feelings, and see a solution—
"Oh." His fox ears perk up, the corners of his lips curling up suspiciously. "So you'll be fine if
I make a request?"
For the second time today, Chuuya's mind freezes, now together with his body because…
Dazai? Requesting a painting from him?
What would he even need it for?
Slowly, his head turns to look at the fox. "...I'm pretty sure you can paint well enough
yourself."
They've never talked about the patterns on the kimonos the redhead wears, Chuuya never
mentioned that he found the painting a long time ago – there was no reason to – but they both
know the kitsune is more than capable of creating art, much faster than any human ever will
be.
"Maybe." Dazai muses, mischief sparkling in his eye. "But there's something only Chibi can
paint for me."
Oh, that sounds dangerous, in too many ways.
"Which is...?"
"You'll see~" Just as nonchalant as he came earlier, the fox moves to walk out of the kitchen,
waving one hand over his shoulder. "Come to my room when you're free, I'll have everything
ready." And then he disappears, leaving Chuuya stunned and confused and with heart racing
faster than it should.
Something only he can paint? In Dazai's room?
…should the redhead be scared?

Of course, it's not like he's never been there, the kitsune's bedroom is their usual place for
when Chuuya brushes his tails, but that's it. He's never even thought of going there for any
other reason and now…
Looking after the fox, the boy wonders: what is he planning? Why was Dazai so happy when
this idea popped into his head? Why was his grin so satisfied?
And, above everything else, why does Chuuya feel relieved at the idea of painting for him,
whatever it may be?
Maybe it's his heart's longing to hold the paintbrush again, maybe it's his hands itching to
create something, anything, again despite his mind being void of ideas. Whatever it is, it
pushes him forward. Not right away, no, there's still this sense of danger left behind by
Dazai's words. It's not that he doesn't trust the fox, it's that he doesn't trust his ideas,
especially when that red shine appears in the other's eye, no matter how quickly it fades.
His concerns and doubts, however, are only enough to keep the redhead away for less than an
hour before he comes face to face with the door to the fox's room, trying to be quiet as he
fights with himself to knock—
"I can hear you out there."
—and, as always, Dazai starts annoying him before Chuuya can even step inside.
"Will you ever stop being a creep?" The redhead groans, sliding the door open and cursing
how sharp demonic senses are.
The fox stands in the middle of the big room, in his usual attire and with his usual smirk,
watching the redhead come closer. "It's not my fault Chibi is so loud."
Chuuya is fairly sure the kitsune means his heartbeat, not his steps, but that's something he'll
ignore for the time being. "Stop blaming me for your weird habits." His eyes fall to the set
prepared for him on the floor, various ink vials and brushes next to a large sheet of paper,
larger than the boy has ever used. "So... what is it that your shitty mind came up with this
time?"
The only answer he gets is Dazai's smirk growing wider as he gestures with his hand to the
side, to the wall that—
"What the fuck?"
—turned into a mirror? When? How?
And why is it taking the whole wall when there are only the two of them there?
"It's a mirror, silly little human." Dazai chuckles, oh so innocently.
"Yes, I know what it is." Chuuya glares at the fox's reflection. "But why is it here?"
"Because..." Dazai's tails sway playfully behind him as he walks behind the redhead, placing
his hands on the other's shoulder and guiding him to sit in front of the paper sheet, facing the
mirror. "...you'll need it."
"Dazai." The boy says slowly, not believing his own words. "Please tell me you're not asking
for a portrait of myself."
It wouldn't be difficult, just very, very awkward. Besides, why would the fox want it in the
first place?
"I'm not~"
Chuuya should have known better than that, he should have realised that it's a trap, but he
didn't. And now, before his mind can understand what is going on, blue sparkles shine all
around him, the figure of a tall man disappearing before—
Before there is a fox lying behind Chuuya. A huge fox, even if not as big as Dazai's normal
form, enclosing the redhead in a circle of his body.
"I'm asking for a painting of us both~"
Right. Of them both.
When the white fox is visibly larger than the redhead, even as they both sit down, a big head
resting on his front paws and tails lying on the side, two of them between Chuuya and the
mirror. Not that a part of Chuuya doesn't enjoy the sight of white fur shining with silver in
daylight, or the warmth that radiates from the fox, or how easy it would be to reach out and
touc—
Oh.
No.
Not going there.
"...is that really what you want?"
A bright eye, a shining ruby, looks at him, and if Dazai was in his usual form, Chuuya just
knows he'd be wearing this stupid smirk right now. "Do I look like I want something else?"
And then it flutters shut, making it seem almost as if the fox is asleep. "Unless Chibi doesn't
want to. I won't force you."
"..." The redhead’s shoulders fall slightly, eyes watching the fox's peaceful expression. "...I
don't mind."
He may not understand why Dazai would ask for something like this, but... the idea does
spark a small flame in Chuuya's chest. It's likely the feeling of getting to paint again, or so he
wishes, and that he'll have a chance to watch another person enjoying his works again. If
Dazai likes it, of course, because that's not a given. Nothing is ever a given with him.
In any case, it's a feeling that has no relation to the redhead's curiosity about what the
painting is for. Will Dazai look at it more than once? Will he keep it?
Does he actually want it, not just as a way to help Chuuya find his inspiration again, but as
something else? Something more?
And if yes, could this mean—
"Right, em..." Clearing his throat, Chuuya straightens his back and looks at his reflection.
"Are you going to sleep or...?"
"Wouldn't talking be distracting for you?" That’s surprisingly considerate of him.
"Not really." The boy studies their images in the mirror, taking in all the details and planning
out where to start in his mind. "I used to have company while working quite often—"
(His friends. Yuan. Shirase. Back in the village.)
"—so it doesn't bother me, as long as you don't move."
The fact that Dazai's fox form can communicate without actually opening his mouth actually
comes in handy right now.
"So Chibi wants to talk to me more~?"
Or maybe not.
"You know what?" Chuuya rolls his eyes, not caring that the kitsune can't see it with both of
his eyes closed. "Just sleep, or disappear. I don’t care."
A low rumble reaches him as the fox chuckles. "Silly human, how would you paint me if I
disappeared?"
"I wouldn't.” The redhead says without hesitation. “And I'd avoid a headache."
And maybe, only maybe, he'd miss the sight of white softness wrapping around him, but only
a tiny bit.
"Is that how you talk to all your clients?"
"Do you want me to spill all this ink on your tails?"
That is something Chuuya wouldn't do, no matter how tempting it is. It's rude to waste
supplies like that, and cleaning all the mess afterwards isn't worth any price.
"Oh?" One of Dazai's tails stirs, but doesn't change its position. "Chibi loves this form so
much he wants to give me a bath?"
It’s pure luck that Chuuya hasn't touched any of the brushes yet because if he did, he'd ruin
the paper laid down in front of him as his body… freezes? Jumps?
Panics?
His eyes are blown wide as he chokes on air, mind fighting very hard not to imagine such a
scene while he also pretends his reflection isn't showing the dark blush forming on his
cheeks.
He wants to give who a what?
What the fuck did Dazai say? Because surely not that.
"Y–you're insane." He mutters. "Who would ever want that?" It must have been a joke
anyway, there's no point thinking about it too much. No point at all—
"I'm sure I'd find some~"
—so stop thinking about it already.
"Shut up." Chuuya runs a hand down his face, eyes squeezed shut as he calms himself. "Just
shut up."
Nothing good will come out of imagining a scenario where, for some fucked up reason,
Chuuya gives in and does… that. It would only be annoying, wet fur must be gross, having a
huge fox in a bath must be gross, and if Dazai chose to be in his usual form instead, the
human–like one…
How about a no.
Stop.
They are not going there. Chuuya is not going there.
He's only going to paint this stupid fox, hopefully in silence after all, and then proceed with
his life without any unnecessary images popping into his head, images he has no desire to
see. None at all. Because Dazai is annoying, and insufferable, and he makes Chuuya's blood
boil every time, and he makes the most absurd comments ever while also bringing him so
much comf—
Paint, that's what he's here to do. Just paint.
Surprisingly, for once the kitsune decides to actually listen to him and stays quiet.
Getting his pounding – from anger, of course – heart under control isn't easy, but the redhead
manages, taking deep breaths before reaching out to what's waiting in front of him and…
First it's the quiet sound of him sketching out what he sees that fills the space around them,
then the first stroke of his brush, a painting coming alive under his hand.
The part where it's him is a little awkward, it's tricky with all the colours, but the fox?
Every stroke comes more natural than the previous one, every line seems to flow just the way
Chuuya knows Dazai's tails would move. He looks peaceful, not like a demon waiting for its
prey to come to him and not like a helpless animal either, he looks like there's power in his
calmness and noble dignity in the otherwise casual position.
As his hand moves to trail the last few lines, Chuuya realises how this Dazai appears less like
a yōkai and more like… a god.
The boy can't make the painting shine with silver like the fox's fur, or with the blue of his
flames, but this is as close to what Chuuya sees as it can get. As close to how he sees him,
and the longer he stares, the more embarrassing it gets.
Of course, Chuuya always tries his best when it comes to his works, he always strives to
bring the images from his head alive on paper but this?
He hasn't painted in months and, even so, if anyone asked him which one of his creations he
considers the most valuable one, in beauty or otherwise, he'd say it's the one in front of him
now. The one where there's him and Dazai. Together.
The one where the fox's calm and majestic white brings out the light from Chuuya's vivid
colours. It may be arrogant to think like that about his own work, but he can't help it, not
when the fox that he painted is the fox that he l—
That he admires.
In a purely aesthetic way.
Which is why he should stop staring at the unmoving kitsune by his side as soon as possible.
Chuuya hides his face in his hands, head shaking as he's trying to swallow down the annoyed
groans climbing up his throat. What is he even thinking? So what if he can admit that Dazai’s
fox form holds a type of beauty that nothing else could ever match? There’s nothing wrong
about it. Surely, many people would agree with him on that.
...but come to think of it, is Dazai actually sleeping?
It's not like the kitsune never sleeps, it's just not that often because, from what he says, he
doesn't need it all that much. Looking through his fingers at the way the fox's upper body
slowly raises and then falls, Chuuya is starting to believe that maybe…
He would say something if he was awake, right?
The stupid fox can hear his heartbeat, he would surely notice how the sound of brushes
moving on the paper stopped, or at least throw another annoying comment at how the
redhead is acting 'silly' or ‘loud’. So… is he really? Does this mean that Chuuya can...?
Unlike Dazai, the redhead has a strong sense and respect for one's personal space, he would
never do anything inappropriate to anyone awake or asleep. But he's been painting for a long
time now, the night outside is already embracing the world in its darkness, and if he thinks of
it as payback for all the headaches, then…
It's not like he's going to do anything bad.

Just a small touch won't hurt, right? Just a little stroke of his hand on the fox's soft fur, just a
gentle feeling of it on Chuuya's cheek as he leans closer…
Ah, it's just as warm as he remembers from the first time, just as nice and calming.
...maybe just a little longer won't hurt.
A few more seconds to feel the soft fur under his fingers, to press his face into it and feel it
tickle his skin. A few more seconds to move closer, the whole side of his body leaning on the
fox until it almost disappears in the white fluff, so nice to touch, so easy to get used to. Even
the scent filling his lungs is calming every nerve in Chuuya's body, letting him relax and
close his eyes just for a few seconds.
How strange, even his futon doesn't feel this warm and soft. Even his own futon doesn't make
it this easy to drift away and…
Ah, a few more seconds won't hurt, right?
And just like that, Chuuya falls asleep in the kitsune's fur.
When he wakes up, it's not a sudden jolt out of his dreamless sleep – it's a lazy process of his
mind slowly letting him know about the things around him. That he's warm, that he's leaning
on something soft, that there's a quiet humming sound coming from somewhere, that
something gently strokes his arm and something is tickling his nose. Chuuya tries to move
away from it, he tries wrinkling his nose in response, but nothing seems to be working. The
only change occurs in the humming surrounding him, now more playful.
After a while of trying to ignore this something tickling his skin, Chuuya gives up, his eyes
fluttering open to see—
"Hello there, little sleepy human~"
—the tip of Dazai's tail in front of his face? The tip of Dazai's fox form’s tail, the form that
Chuuya fell asleep on…
Oh no.
Oh, please, no.
The kitsune is never going to let him forget it.
The redhead jolts away from the white fur, his face quickly heating up and, this time, not
from the other's fur. "I–I didn't—"
"Oh, I think you did~" The fox muses, red eye shining brightly. "And for quite a while too~"
Perfect. Fucking perfect.

"It was an accident." Chuuya tries to reason, only now realising that it was Dazai's other tail
brushing his arm before.
"Which part?" The fox cocks his head, ears straightened up. "Falling asleep or falling asleep
while nuzzling into my fur?"
All of it – Chuuya wants to scream. Or whine. Or cry.
And now it's time to disappear and pretend it never happened. But before the redhead can
think about his answer, the kitsune speaks again, chuckling under his breath.
"Relax, Chibi. I don't mind."
It's not about minding it, though, it's about how annoying he's going to be later about bringing
it up time and again—
“I like the painting."
The what now?!
…oh.
Oh, right. The reason why he's here.
"Thanks." Chuuya mumbles, averting his eyes and playing with the hem of his sleeve. He's
not sure whether this mess in his mind is due to being embarrassed about the whole situation
or to already dreading all the teasing he'll have to suffer through. Or both.
"Was your nap the payment for it~?"
Definitely both.
"Ugh, stop it." Chuuya groans, rubbing his eyes to feel more awake. "I said it was an
accident."
"So I still need to pay."
"You can pay by shutting up." It's not like there is anything else, Chuuya is already living in
Dazai’s house for free, getting food and clothes and anything else without having to give
anything back.
"That's too boring.” The fox says, his tails moving closer to the boy. “I'll pass."
"Then what do y—"
But the redhead never finishes his sentence, his thoughts never reach their destination. His
eyes are blown wide, brows climbing higher than he thought it was possible, and there isn't a
single coherent thought left in his mind because…
Dazai is close. Dazai's fox face is close. Dazai's fox nose is close.
Very big, slightly wet and a little cold, and it's very close.
It's this touching–Chuuya's–nose kind of close. Obviously, it's bigger than the redhead's
entire cheek, but that's beside the point.
Excuse him, but what?
How did their noses bump...?
But if having a giant fox doing this, whatever this actually is, wasn't enough, then what
happens next makes everything even… worse? Better? More confusing? All of it at once?
Because one second there's a big, black fox nose touching Chuuya's, making his heart pound
in his chest and his cheeks turn darker, and the next second there is Dazai.
As in, normal form Dazai.
His almost human self, with a mop of dark hair, bandages, white ears and tails, with his red
eye looking right into Chuuya's blue one, and with his nose still touching the redhead's. Their
foreheads are also dangerously close and Chuuya can feel Dazai's hair on his skin, but he
can't move, he can't speak, can't think—
"That should do, as payment." The kitsune muses, smirking at the other as he slowly leans
back. "But careful, little human."
About what? About who? What is going on? What is this about now?
"I may start to think you like my fox self more than you like me."
…he'll think Chuuya does what to what more than who?
Blinking doesn't help with understanding anything, neither does opening and closing his
mouth without actually uttering a word. Watching Dazai grin with satisfaction as he holds up
Chuuya's painting doesn't help at all.
What the fuck has just happened?
Payment? Why would the fox come up with something like this? Does it even count? Does
Chuuya want it to count? Did he like it? Would he do it ag—
"Thanks." He finally says, not able to come up with anything else while his mind is a
storming mess of emotions.
Whether Dazai minds his answer or finds it amusing, the redhead wouldn't know. He's in no
state to decipher whatever is written on the fox's face, he can't hear the shifting tones in the
other's voice when there's blood rushing in his ears.
"You're very welcome, Chibi~"

Chapter End Notes
I'm two days behind on my update schedule because I was busy, but oh well~
And you know what? That scene above always makes me laugh and smile. Chuuya's
denial is so obvious and cute, and Dazai is enjoying himself a lot here (just like me) :3
Also, yes, you will see me screaming about my own story a lot from now on because
there are many scenes I was going all KJSNKFKSBGVKNSKHFVKHFKSDN about ^^
Hmm
Chapter Notes
Another quiet day.
Quiet, but not silent.
Watching the human move around his house so comfortably and without any fears makes the
past where Chuuya wasn't here seem so... foreign. So distant. The echo of Chuuya’s steps
belongs in the long corridors, the traces he leaves behind seem to fit perfectly in the
previously empty spaces of the house. It makes it hard for Dazai to comprehend that he was
once ready to let Chuuya go, to order him to go back to the village.
Which he eventually did, his mind likes to remind him. Everything that followed wasn't easy,
for neither of them, but especially for the redhead. If Dazai knew how to change the past to
erase the pain the human had to go through, he would. He would make sure their fight
wouldn’t have happened, he would make sure to be there when Ace set his eyes on him—
But he can't do that.
What has happened can never be undone.
Dazai can only focus on what is before him here and now and…
Sometimes, the kitsune wonders if enjoying the life they have now is something bad, if it
makes him even more cruel than his reputation already claims. Because having the boy
around, having him so close and smiling again feels…
Nice.
Calming, even.
That alone may not be considered a crime, but the moment Dazai remembers that these
smiles and soft laughter didn’t come without a price, it makes him somewhat uneasy. He’s
here, enjoying Chuuya’s company and ignoring how, even if not all, some of the pain the boy
had to suffer was caused by him, however unintentional.
Is it wrong of Dazai to let go of the past?
Is it a shameful life if he lets the lazy days overwrite his mistakes?
There are times, under the veil of the dark nights, that the kitsune’s thoughts return to this
question, to a problem he can’t see an answer to. A part of him doesn’t want to forget what
has happened, so that he can be sure not to let it happen again, but another, much calmer side
of him only wants to…
Move on.
Because that’s what Chuuya did, as far as Dazai can see it.
Honestly, it's a strange feeling, but the fox has gotten used to it by now, even if its roots dig
into depths the kitsune is yet to understand. It's somehow similar to how he felt when Chuuya
first started working here after his injuries had healed all these months ago. Conflicting
emotions tugging at the corners of Dazai's mind, making him do all kinds of things that he
normally wouldn't, not without a reason, but it's these things that he finds himself not
minding all that much.
Some of it is the same as before: their bickering echoes between the walls of his house every
day, making fun of how tiny the human is never stops to amuse him. Dazai can still bother
him every time Chuuya cooks for them, or decides to clean around the house because he's
bored, and their routine of the redhead brushing his tails in the evenings is something Dazai
may be enjoying a bit more than he probably should.
It was never something he cared about before, so why would it matter now?
Then, there are these small moments.
The moments where the kitsune’s body seems to move on its own, driven by a piece of his
mind that makes him act faster than he can think about it, think about the consequences, or at
least th implications.
Like when a loose strands of red hair falls on Chuuya's face when he's painting and Dazai's
hand reaches out to tuck it behind his ear without realising what he's doing until the blue eyes
look up at him, wide, before the human murmurs a quiet 'thanks'. Or like when his tails find
the small figure every time the Chibi shivers, clearly having underestimated the cold.
And Dazai knows none of it is bad, Chuuya doesn't look annoyed by any of it, even if his
face does turn the similar colour as to when he's angry, but the human never asks him to stop.
Which says a lot and, at the same time, nothing at all.
Because it's weird.
It's weird to not know why his body acts this way, it's weird to see the flustered expression on
the human's face and, instead of amused satisfaction, feeling something else. Something...
new.
It's warmer than the desire to tease, more genuine than the need to make Chuuya lose his
temper and it's complicated, clawing at his mind (and maybe his heart) in the most
unexpected moments and never letting there be a pattern Dazai could try to decipher. This
feeling doesn’t follow any rules, doesn’t give itself any name, it only lingers there – always
present, even when Dazai tries to forget about it.
And it always, always comes back to him.

One time, it's when he hears Chuuya laughing from a distance, or when the human falls
asleep while brushing his tails. Then, it's when Dazai is alone – when he finds a book he
hasn't read in decades lying around the main room or when he smells yet another new recipe
from the kitchen. Sometimes it's as small as seeing fresh footprints in the snow in his garden,
not his or the Akutagawa siblings', or seeing vegetables and other ingredients being stored in
a room that has been empty until recently.
All of it makes him feel—
Confused, distracted... (happy?)
Dazai is a master of deceit, but he knows truths when he sees them. He can admit that life
with Chuuya is more interesting, more colourful – in various ways – and he doesn't mind
letting some of his walls fall around the redhead. Not too much, not all of them at once, but…
bits by bits. A story here, an honest answer there.
Small, yet important.
And every time it comes easier than before, the more they get to know each other, the more
Dazai feels allowed to share not only his good parts, but also the darker ones – the memories
strained with blood. He's simply struggling to figure out what that tug at his mind means.
Plus, the redhead also seems to be acting strange at times.
Even after he started laughing and being his old, loud and violent self again, there are
moments when the redhead is suspiciously quiet, almost as if he's frozen, or when he looks
angry – his face red – but doesn't do anything about it, despite his love for arguing with the
kitsune. Chuuya isn’t one to back down from a fight, or even a small tease, so it’s strange to
witness.
But not unpleasant.
On the other hand, Dazai was the one who used to be reluctant about staying close for too
long, for various reasons, but then it was Chuuya who hugged him first when Dazai showed
him his fox form. And while the redhead agreed to the kitsune’s proposed way of creating
new memories, trying to let the bad ones fade away from the redhead’s memory, he has never
been the one to ask for it this boldly.
...come to think of it, why did Dazai propose something like that?
There must have been another way of doing it, there is always more than one way. Now,
when he thinks about it it seems like an impulsive decision with little to no guarantee of
success, something bordering on desperation, and it makes him frown because—
Dazai is many things – a killer, a kitsune – but he is not impulsive or desperate.
Never has been, never will be.
Mind you, he doesn't mind these moments when he can have Chuuya in his arms, far from
that, it's just another thing adding to his growing list of unanswered questions, and that is
starting to get on his nerves. Because having all the answers is what Dazai does, it’s who he
is.
…although, for some reason all of that fades away when he spots the redhead sitting by the
open door leading to the garden, a cup of tea on the side and with his painting tools carefully
placed before him on the cold, wooden panels. The day is nearing its end, the sky painted
with colours that, despite their beauty, can never match the brightness of Chuuya's hair.
"Ah, Chibi is trying to catch a cold again~" Dazai chirps as he walks closer, his eye shining
when Chuuya gives him an annoyed look before focusing on his painting again.
"You're the one walking outside with only your kimono on, shitty fox."
Ah, the usual.
Dazai’s lips stretch into a grin, satisfaction and victory painted all over it. "Demons don't get
sick, Chibi." Especially not demons like him.
"I'm pretty sure every piece of clothing you gave me is more than just pretty material." The
redhead rolls his eyes, his voice without hesitation. "I'm almost never cold when it should be
freezing."
Well, that's true.
After Ryuu came back with the kimonos the spirits made for him, Dazai made sure to cast
several spells on them, including the one to keep whoever wears them warm at all times. It
felt convenient at the time, if nothing else, but Dazai never mentioned any of it, never felt a
need to.
"Oh, is that Chibi's way of saying how eternally grateful he is for—"
"It's my way of saying I'm fine." Chuuya huffs. "And when are you going to drop that stupid
nickname already?!"
Never, of course. Watching the redhead's reactions is way too fun to give up on it. Besides…
Can he call him something else? Is it fine to do it now? Did it work to—
"When you grow taller~" Dazai muses instead, sitting next to the boy and looking at the
paper as Chuuya mutters another ‘shitty fox’ that lacks any real spite.
What he sees reminds the kitsune of something he’s seen before, his head cocking to the side
as he thinks about what it could be until… "Is it the garden?" He asks, ears perked up
curiously because it does look familiar, just not the same as he’s used to.
"Kind of." Chuuya sighs, looking up at the snow blanketing the space in front of them and the
evening slowly turning into night. "It's more like how I think it will look once all the flowers
bloom."
Ah.
That's why it's somehow different, Dazai's garden has never bloomed before.
"How do you know what colours the flowers will be?" Kouyou would know, Dazai can be
sure of that, but that's just because of what she is, while Chuuya is only a human. An
intriguing one, but human nevertheless.
Wrinkling his nose, the boy shrugs. "I'm guessing."
Really, it was to be expected if one thinks about it rationally, but the simplicity of his answer
still manages to draw a small chuckle out of Dazai, his smile softening around the corner of
his mouth because it's so like the Chibi. Always acting so amusingly cu—
Hmm. Nevermind.
"Are you already bored of winter?" The kitsune asks, his tails moving to stroke the redhead's
back. He said he's fine, sure, but some extra warmth won't hurt, right?
The gesture is met with another roll of blue eyes, but Chuuya doesn't move away. If you ask
Dazai, the human seems to be leaning into the touch ever so slightly, but that may be because
he's tired, or trying to use his tails as cushions – it wouldn’t be the first time. Who can know
for sure?
"I like winter, but..." Chuuya's cheeks turn a shade darker, even in the dim light. "...I'm
curious how it will look."
He said it once before, Dazai realises, some things just don't change. Only now, they know
the Chibi will be here to witness the results of his work, that he will be here for the whole
spring instead of visiting every once in a while because… well, because there isn’t much
choice for him anymore.
"Well," Dazai hums, his eye glancing at the almost finished painting again. "I wouldn't mind
if it looked like this."
it's not that he actually cares about it all that much – if he did, he'd have Ryuu or Gin look
after it before and he didn’t – but he assumes this is what Chuuya wishes to see when spring
comes and a smiling Chibi isn't a horrible sight at all.
The only thing that lights a faint sparkle of concern in Dazai’s mind is how the painting is
much bigger than Chuuya’s usual pieces, it looks both fresh and almost finished, with so
many details—
"How long have you been sitting here?"
Dazai may be always around, but he's not looking over Chuuya's shoulder every second of
every day, he understands the redhead needs some time to himself too. He knows nothing can
happen to him here, he knows the Chibi is safe from anyone who would want to hurt him but
he's not safe from his own forgetfulness.
And it can be a problem.

Chuuya looks to the side, his voice quiet. "...a while."
Ah, of course.
Days are still short, so he was probably trying to use as much sunlight as possible, which
means he's likely been here since the morning. A typical Chuuya, really. A typical, ador—
Hmm. Nevermind.
"The clothes will keep you from getting cold but not from fainting, Chibi." Dazai watches
him put down everything, his brow high and the corners of his lips twitching when he sees...
"You're tired."
"I said I'm fine." Crossing his arms on his chest, Chuuya glares at the fox. "It's still early."
It takes a lot to keep his voice levelled, not letting any playful notes betray him. "No, you're
tired."
"I'm not—"
"Chibi." Dazai cuts him off, but his voice is ringing with amusement. "You put your brush
into your tea cup instead of the one with water. I think that says a lot."
It also makes Chuuya's face heat up very fast when he sees it, his cheeks almost the same
colour as his hair. Watching the redhead struggle with finding words to say back to that is
something Dazai will never stop appreciating. He wishes the boy wouldn’t push himself that
hard, but it is funny to witness, as long as it’s harmless, of course.
And as Chuuya squeezes his eyes, an annoyed groan escaping his throat, the kitsune's body
decides to act on its own again.
His tails are still stroking the human's back when Dazai's arm reaches out, his hand coming to
rest on top of the boy's head before it slides down its back, long fingers running through silky
strands. It's not his first time to feel it, but…
Chuuya's hair is very soft.
It feels warm under Dazai's skin, it looks like liquid sunset flowing between his fingers and,
oh, how tempting it would be to fist his hand and—
Hmm. That's not something the kitsune should be considering, so he won't.
Even if his tails sway a little too eager.
"Dazai?" Chuuya's voice brings him out of his haze, only now realising how his eye was
following his hand's movement until now. The boy's face is still red – from embarrassment or
something else, he can't tell – when Dazai looks into the wide, sky blue irises.
Maybe they're both tired. Yes.

Retracting his hand, the fox smirks at the other. "Silly human is covered in ink~" Just his
hands actually, but there's no need to point it out.
"Huh?" Blinking, Chuuya pats the back of his head, his brows furrowing slightly. "How
would that even happen...?"
"Don't ask me." Dazai sighs, trying to look somewhere that isn't red hair. "I'm not a silly
human, I wouldn't—"
"Stop before I cover you in ink."
Ah, the usual threat. Or a treat.
"Seeing you try would be an exquisite sight~" However, the fox is fairly sure the Chibi
wouldn't have the heart to actually do it. Waste his ink, that is, not make Dazai's cleaning up
unnecessarily difficult.
"You know what? Maybe I am tired." Chuuya begins to stand up, carefully moving his
supplies and the painting inside the room. "But mostly of you."
The kitsune grins, one of his ears twitching and his tails shifting behind him, never stopping
moving. "How cruel~" Although, both of them know there is no spite in the redhead's voice
and Dazai thinks he can see him fight back… a smile?
"It's what you deserve." Again, there's no anger in his words, they're much too soft to feel like
a promise of a fight.
When Chuuya leaves the room, Dazai looks after him for a while. His hand itches, already
missing the feeling of fire–like strands under his skin…
No, it can't be that.
He needs to rest, get his mind off of this unnecessary confusion fueled by being around a
human for so long, and then he'll be fine.
It may be dark outside already, but it's not actually late, especially not for a demon, and Dazai
chooses to spend some time in one of the rooms where he keeps his scrolls and books, the
room where the painting of him and Chuuya hangs on the wall. It's not in his bedroom
because Dazai tends to spend most of his time here – when he's not looking to tease the
redhead at the moment — instead of his own room, reading or studying new spells he
occasionally asks the local spirits for.
Of course, he has never questioned Chuuya's talent, he used to watch him paint in the
summer as well, but there is something about the painting that draws the fox to it. Because he
can't help but wonder: is this how the Chibi sees him? It's so unreal to think about it this way,
not when Dazai is a demon, while the fox he sees on the paper looks so calm and almost—
Well, beautiful.
Maybe it's the painting itself that holds this beauty he sees, maybe it's all Chuuya's artistic
soul's doing, but in an impossible scenario where it isn't…
Ah, Dazai really should stop creating more questions he doesn't know how to answer, much
like his body should stop being driven by these weird impulses he gets more and more often.
There's already enough questions connected to that single painting, the most important one
being:
What pushed him to do that as payment?
At the time, it felt natural, like his entire being was pushing him into it, like his entire being
wanted to do it and, truth be told, seeing the Chibi too surprised to say anything was
definitely a pleasure. However, it's not something he'd usually do or even consider, which
makes the fact that it happened all the more confusing.
He didn't mind it, it didn't feel bad.
(It felt surprisingly... good?)
Just like feeling Chuuya's hair under his hand doesn’t feel bad, nor his skin every time Dazai
cups his face and—
"This isn't helping." The kitsune mutters to himself, turning away from the painting and
sitting down on the cushion, a random book in his hand.
He spends the next few hours reading and trying to forget about the mess this little human
created in his mind, or at least ignore it enough for his composure to come back. It's only
when he remembers that Chuuya may want to brush his tails tonight as well, if he's not yet
asleep, that Dazai decides to go back to his room. All this tending to his fur isn't necessary,
but saying he doesn't enjoy it would be lying and, well, if the Chibi likes it… there's no
reason to refuse, is there?
It causes no harm, after all.
Dazai closes the door behind him and walks down the corridor, and just as he's about to turn
around the corner—
"Oh."
—Chuuya is right there, his face inches away from Dazai's chest as he looks up.
"That's where you are." The redhead says, so innocently surprised as he takes a step back.
Dazai doesn't even have the time to think about how he was so occupied with his own
thoughts that he didn't hear the human's footsteps, because the sight so close in front of him
takes over his mind.
There's heat radiating from Chuuya’s body, his cheeks and neck are flushed, wet hair falling
down his face and around his shoulders, sticking to his skin like rivers of red carved into a
pale canvas. His clothes are much more loose than he usually wears them, revealing sharp
collar bones and, from this angle, Dazai has a perfect view of what's under the kimono, even
if the fox doesn't mean to look. Water drops fall from his hair and onto his skin, trailing down
until they disappear where—
Hmm.
That's a dangerous thought.
Dazai probably shouldn't be thinking about how heated Chuuya's skin looks after taking a
bath, how he wants to wipe the droplets away from his body, grab his hair and pu—
Oh, absolutely not.
Clearing his throat, Dazai sends him an innocent smile, one that the boy is likely to confuse
for a testing one. "Was Chibi looking for me?"
"I came earlier but you weren't there." Chuuya takes another step back, creating a more
comfortable and safe distance between them. Good, good. "So I took a bath first, but you still
weren't there."
Ah, Dazai really should have stayed in his room then, it would have spared him a lot of
internal fighting.
"Oh my~" But the fox will never let it show, grinning at the other. "I didn't know Chibi is this
eager to play with my tails." The tails that are completely still. Just like his whole body.
Fortunately, Chuuya doesn't seem to notice, only rolling his eyes at the comment. "One day, I
will really use my ink on you."
Oh, Dazai wouldn't mind getting dir—
Stop it.
"And then leave you to clean it yourself." The boy adds.
Maybe a cold bath is what Dazai needs, actually, maybe it would be refreshing. But,
determined not to let his traitorous mind take control, he lets Chuuya into his room just like
every other evening, he lets him brush his tails and talk about anything the redhead wishes.
He acts normal.
Because why wouldn’t he? It’s just another evening of sitting with Chuuya in his bedroom,
and nothing else.
…right?
(And if the kitsune fails to notice how Chuuya's blush from the bath doesn't seem to go away,
or fails to recall how quick the other's heartbeat was when they almost bumped into each
other before…
Well, that will make things only a little slower.)
Chapter End Notes
DAZAI. IS. SO. FUCKING. IN. DENIAL. I. CANNOT.
I don't know if laughing at my own writing is a good thing or not, but every time I read
his little 'hmm's' inside his head I actually start laughing 😆😆😆 did I put lots of random
sexual tension and maybe some kinks into this short chapter because I felt like it? HELL
YEAH
Anyway, this time I''m right on schedule~

Incurable Disease
Chapter Notes
"I think I'm getting sick."
Both Ryuu and Gin look up from their cups to Chuuya at the same time, trying to understand
where the sudden confession comes from and whether they should be concerned. March has
already come around, the winter's snows melted and the wind warmed up again, allowing the
three of them to enjoy their time outside much more than in the past months. The nights
remain cold, but it’s not like the redhead, or any of them, goes out much once it gets dark.
"Do you have a fever?" Ryuu asks, his sister tilting her head curiously at his side.
They’re sitting on the engawa, bathing in sunlight and listening to the forest waking up from
its winter sleep. Chuuya is wearing his kimono loosely tied at the front, letting the material
cover his skin while not preventing the gentle breeze from chilling his body.
"...no." The redhead sits with his back leaning on the wall of Dazai's house, both his drink
and snacks untouched on the floor next to his legs. "It's my head."
"A headache?" The wolf tries again, eyeing the other for any sign of actually being sick, but
finding none. Neither he or Gin are that familiar with human health, but they’ve both spent
enough time around Chuuya to learn at least the basics.
Wrinkling his nose and looking away at the trees surrounding the residence, Chuuya plays
with the hem of his sleeve, the back of his head resting against the wood. "Kind of?” He lets
out a sigh. “But not really..."
He knows his words don’t make sense, but it's difficult to explain something when you don't
understand it yourself. When you don’t have any actual proof, only… these feelings.
Intuition, if you will.
"..." The siblings exchange confused stares, but then it’s once again Ryuu that decides to ask:
"Chuuya, why do you think you're getting sick?"
Well…
"Because I feel weird." Comes an annoyed answer, though the redhead isn't sure what or who
is the cause of it. He feels irritated by simply thinking about it. "I keep getting distracted
when I shouldn’t be and my mind does this stupid thing with coming up with the most
unnecessary ideas.” Ideas he shall not be discussing. With anyone. “Plus, I feel hot way too
often for this weather and my heartbeat randomly speeds up even when I’m not working."
There's more he can list off, like his voice not working properly at times, but it's not like
getting into such details is going to help. The important thing is: he's been feeling off for a
few weeks now, restless but not in the same way as before – this is more... unfamiliar to
Chuuya.
He's not bored so there is no need for his mind to wonder about stupid things, he's not
worried about anything so there's no need for his heart to panic all of a sudden without a
reason. His life is now calmer and more comfortable than ever, so it may be a case that his
body isn't used to it, hence trying to get sick because of some kind of shock.
Or, well, getting sick is the only explanation Chuuya can come up with for all of this, because
he has never dealt with anything even remotely similar.
He’s been hurt, exhausted in all sorts of ways, and he’s been sick in the past, even if not
often. This doesn’t seem like any of it, but the boy blames it on the fact that he’s living with
demons now – things aren’t meant to make sense here.
His answer, however, doesn't seem to worry the Akutagawas, which is unusual considering
how fretting over his well–being they used to be. If the redhead was looking at them instead
of the forest, he would even see Gin's lips trembling as she's trying to force her smile down.
But he isn’t looking.
Chuuya is blissfully unaware of what’s going on through their minds.
"Right, em..." Ryuu clears his throat, putting his cup down next to where he's sitting and
briefly glancing at his sister. "And by 'randomly' speeds up you mean...?"
"By randomly I mean randomly, Ryuu." Chuuya rolls his eyes, sending the other boy a look.
"If there was something in common, I'd know it."
But there isn't, of course.
Sometimes it happens when he's cooking (and a certain someone decides to disturb him),
sometimes it's when he's painting (and his mind remembers that one evening, painting that
one request). And sometimes it's when he's brushing Dazai's tails, which is slowly making
Chuuya believe he may be allergic to the kitsune’s fur.
The point is: it happens when Chuuya is calm, when nothing out of the ordinary happens, and
it annoys him.
Ryuu nods slightly. "And how long has it been going on for?"
"I don't know. A few months?" Since around the time they came back from uncle Adam's?
He wasn’t paying that much attention to it back then if he’s being honest. "But it only started
getting worse a few weeks ago."
Chuuya started noticing it a few weeks ago, more and more often as time passed.
Ryuu quirks a brow at that. "Do humans get sick for that long?"
"Em, yes? If they're seriously ill."

"...but you don't seem seriously ill?"
"I'm not," A sigh. "I said I just feel weird."
Gin hums at his answer, her shoulders shaking slightly as she sips her tea, partially hiding
behind her brother who sits almost unnaturally still. "...maybe it's not a sickness, then?"
Ryuu's voice is levelled, not betraying anything the boy may think. "Maybe it's something
else?"
Well, Chuuya has already considered that it could be an allergy, but why would it manifest
when he's an adult, after living in the same place for months before having started feeling
anything at all.
"There's nothing I can think of, but if you have something..."
Honestly, Chuuya is simply tired of it at this point, tired of worrying over nothing. Which is
exactly why he brought it up in the first place – Ryuu and Gin are demons, if there is
something a human can’t see, maybe at least they will be able to help.
"Well..." Ryuu coughs into his sleeve, his gaze falling on his sister over his shoulder before
looking back at the redhead. "I'm guessing these 'ideas' you're getting are more or less of the
same sort?"
Ugh.
That's a question Chuuya would much rather avoid. He doesn't like dwelling on the thoughts
that randomly pop into his mind (when Dazai is around). They’re unintentional, quickly
pushed aside for the sake of keeping his sanity, and they aren’t something Chuuya
considers… worth sharing.
"...they're all stupid." He says instead, a faint blush painting his cheeks.
(And that's really all the answer Ryuu needs, not that he didn’t know already.)
"Yes, you said that.” The wolf nods. He talks slowly, almost as if he’s giving Chuuya more
time to think about his answers. “And they're probably about someone, right?"
Crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, Chuuya mutters a quiet "It doesn't matter", hoping
the other boy would just get to the point—
But it doesn't seem to be his lucky day. It’s never his lucky day.
"I think it kind of does, though." Ryuu says without any hesitation.
"Well, you're not a doctor."
A sigh. "I really don't think I need to be a doctor for this."
(Because it’s not just recently that Ryuu, along with his sister, started noticing the small
nuances of the human’s relationship with the kitsune. If anything, he’d say this goes back all
the way to the first summer Chuuya spent here, before the incident with Ace.
Unfortunately, he has enough experience with this sort of thing. He can see what’s going on,
even if Chuuya, or Dazai–sama for that matter, refuses to acknowledge it.)
The comment draws a chuckle out of Gin, one that she tries to cover with the sleeve of her
kimono when Chuuya shoots her a pointed look. "I don't see what's so funny about this." The
redhead huffs. "Shouldn't you be a little bit more worried instead of laughing? You know, like
what friends would do?"
"We are worried, Chuuya." Ryuu smiles at him apologetically and it would have passed for
an honest apology if not for the faint, amused sparkles in the dark eyes. "But not exactly
about your health right now."
Oh, wow.
Such amazing friends he has. Why is everyone here so annoying recently?
"Plus." The wolf continues, shrugging. "From what I can see, it's nothing dangerous."
"Oh? And how do you know that, huh?" The redhead reaches for his tea, bringing the cup to
his lips—
"Love isn't usually life–threatening."
—and then chokes on the cooled down liquid, small droplets trailing down his chin and neck.
Excuse him, but what isn't usually life–threatening?
Why would Ryuu say that in the context of their conversation? Where did the crazy idea even
come from? Is he getting sick from… doing whatever it is that he does every day?
Chuuya's eyes water as he's coughing and trying to catch his breath because…
"W– what the fuck, Ryuu?"
"Sorry." The boy pats the redhead's back, helping him to cough out everything while Gin
offers a small, cleant cloth to wipe the droplets. "I didn't mean for it to be this much of a
surprise."
"You didn't— I mean, you did— I mean..."
What does he mean, anyway?!
"...what the fuck?"
Yes, that seems about right.
"Chuuya," Ryuu says slowly, now even his lips are trembling at the corners with the
suppressed smile. Or laughter. "it’s actually pretty obvious—"
"What is?!"
"—that you like Dazai–sama."
...
Huh?
But he doesn't?!
"But I don't?!"
Chuuya is staring at the other two with wide eyes, unbelieving of the betrayal his supposed
friends are committing in broad daylight. Ryuu’s jokes have never been the best ones, but this
is on a whole new level, and Gin seems to be in on it as well, which rarely is the case.
"You sure keep thinking about him a lot for someone who doesn't like him..."
Well, that's complicated. He isn't doing that on purpose, he tries not to let his mind wander
there, especially when he’s talking to the Akutagawa siblings, and he has never said anything
about having any sort of feeling towards the kitsune either.
Obviously, it’s impossible to avoid mentioning him all the time – the fox lives here and
Chuuya interacts with him on an almost daily basis, some things are simply unavoidable.
But it doesn’t mean anything!
"I have no idea where you got that from." He tries to argue, while Gin is losing it behind her
brother’s back, muffled laughs escaping her despite the girl’s best efforts.
"Chuuya."
"What now?!"
"You're blushing." Ryuu, oh, so kindly points out. "A lot, actually."
Yes, he can feel it, just like he can hear his heart trying to burst. But it doesn't mean anything
other than that he's annoyed at the fox occupying his mind and at Ryuu for reminding him of
that. He's annoyed at his stupid, very soft fur, his insufferable grin that actually looks quite
charm—
Oh, no. Not that. Definitely not that.
His face is red because he's angry. Angry at the memory of falling asleep in the warmth of
Dazai's fur, angry at the memory of the kitsune being so close, the memory of bumping into
him after his bath and feeling his gaze on his skin, wishing it wouldn't be just his eye—
Oh, no.
No, no, no, no.

Gods, no.
This isn't Chuuya's thinking, this is all Ryuu's fault for mentioning it and planting the insane
possibility in his head. The human has no such feelings for the kitsune, he doesn't like
spending time with the fox, he doesn't appreciate the gentle touches of his tails and hands, nor
does he wish to see more of his smile.
Chuuya is simply grateful for being able to live here, and for the clothes, and for the food,
and for the quiet evenings they share while he's brushing Dazai's tails, and for how good his
hand felt on Chuuya's hair—
Oh, fuck no.
"I do not like him!"
"I think I'm getting sick."
Leaning on the tree, his tails like cushions behind his back, Dazai sighs before taking a sip of
his sake, both his friends looking at him with raised brows. They’re in the same spot as the
last few times – the long forgotten island – and the conversation has been circling mostly
around what the other two are up to, which Dazai doesn’t mind.
He didn’t even mean to say it out loud if he’s being honest, but the lazy atmosphere loosened
his tongue, allowing the words that have been fighting to get out escape him before he could
stop it.
"But demons don't get sick." Ango says, a little confused.
The fox knows, he told Chuuya the same thing, but who cares? "Then I think I've been
poisoned. Is that better, Ango~?"
"Are you okay?" Odasaku asks, a hint of worry in his voice.
"You don't look poisoned if you ask me." The other adds.
Shrugging, Dazai brushes the latter comment with a wave of his hand. "I’m fine, but there's
something wrong with my head." He answers simply, not letting it show on his face how his
mind is suddenly flooded with the images he’s been desperately keepin away.
Images he has no intention of seeing, none at all, and most certainly no intention of sharing.
No matter how close they are, there are limits Dazai isn’t willing to cross. Especially not with
these types of things.
Bringing a cup to his lips, Odasaku looks at him with the usual, quiet curiosity. "How so?"
Now, despite its simplicity, that’s a very tricky question to answer without revealing too
much. His friend likely isn’t aware of it – or maybe he is, only Odasaku can know for sure –
but it makes it all the more complicated. The lack of an answer will make them suspicious,
but if Dazai says too much it’ll be a pain.
He could use his kitsune tricks, but the three of them have known each other for centuries,
and there is a high chance it would work the way the fox intends it to, so…
"It keeps making me... do things." He says, carefully picking his words as he swirls the liquid
in his cup, seemingly lazily. "Or think about ideas that don't make sense."
"Do things?" Odasaku repeats, more and more confused, or maybe concerned, with every
new piece of information. "Like what?"
Oh, where does he even begin?
Honestly, it would be much easier if he didn't have to begin anywhere at all, it would be
perfect if his friend didn't ask that question, because Dazai isn't sure how he feels about
sharing any of it. It's not that he doesn't trust his friends, it's just complicated.
Especially when most, if not all of it, includes the human he was so reluctant about
mentioning before.
"Well..." He trails off, a mischievous smirk forming on his face. "So that Chibi living with me
now—"
"Dazai, what did you do?" Both of his friends say at the same time, their gazes more serious.
Ah, how rude of them, really, to be thinking that he did something bad to the human just at
the simple mention of him. He’s almost hurt with how little faith they have in him, even if
they have good reasons for it, considering his past.
But still – rude.
"I didn't do anyth..." His usual playful tone slips out before he can stop it, but it’s quickly
silenced by Odasaku and Ango's firm stares. Maybe they know him a bit too well. "...I didn't
hurt him, okay?"
Even the thoughts he's been having against his will are far from hurtful ones.
"Are you sure?" The tanuki narrows his eyes from behind his glasses, something Dazai only
waves off with his hand instead of soothing his friend’s concerns.
(In his life, Ango witnessed many cases of Dazai ‘didn’t do anything’s’ and ‘didn’t hurt’s’,
and while this human the fox has taken a liking to does seem to be somehow different to his
usual targets, there is always a seed of worry. Because sometimes the fox really doesn’t mean
what he does or says, but it’s rarely enough to spare his victims pain.
Yes, this human feels different, in all the good ways, but Dazai is still… well, Dazai.)
"How about you let me finish first, Ango~" The kitsune muses.
At the same time, the fox can feel Odasaku's eyes on him, confused and waiting for an
answer, but not intimidating. His friend is once again calm, quiet in his concerns.
"As I was saying~" Dazai trails off, playing with the cup in his hand. "The Chibi lives with
me now, permanently, and he's making me do all kinds of things."
"He is making you do them?" The redhead asks, one brow arched high in a show of disbelief.
"Well…” The kitsune tilts his head, offering a well–played, innocent smile. “He’s making my
mind make me do things."
...sort of?
It feels like the human's presence is enough to drive him crazy sometimes, and Dazai doesn't
do crazy.
Merciless? Yes. Cruel? Occasionally. He prides himself in his mind, it’s his most useful
weapon and a way to avoid unnecessary and bothersome troubles. Even if, more often than
not, others don’t understand his thoughts and call him insane – that’s their simple–minded
opinion, not the truth.
Dazai does not do ‘crazy’.
Never has, never will.
"Maybe you are poisoned after all..." Ango mumblels into his cup.
"I'm glad you agree~" The fox beams, but his other friend still looks like he's waiting for an
explanation, and Dazai is fairly sure Odasaku won’t let him off that easily now that it was
him who started this.
…what can he say without making it sound strange, or worse – inappropriate?
Because the kitsune is certain Odasaku wouldn't be so calm if he knew about how easily
Dazai's eye seems to follow the boy whenever the two of them are close. He wouldn’t be so
calm to know how Dazai’s gaze falls on Chuuya's skin whenever it's exposed and flushed
after a bath, or—
Hmm. That's something he wasn't supposed to think about.
"For example~" He starts again, getting more comfortable on his tails as if this conversation
doesn’t feel all that important to him. "When Chibi was feeling restless – such a lively, little
creature – I asked him for a painting of the both of us."
He could have asked for anything else, so why was this the first option that came to his
mind? It would have probably been better to ask for something easier, given how it was the
first time Chuuya painted in months.
But Odasaku nods. "It doesn't seem weird to me."
Oh?
Really?
Maybe it's nothing serious then, just a momentary confusion that will clear itself sooner or
later once he gets used to having a human around all the time. Well, in that case, the rest is
most likely irrelevant as well, but since he already started…
"And then when I changed into my fox form—"
"You did what?" Again, both of his friends speak simultaneously – Ango choking on his
drink while the redhead's eyes are blown wider than ever before.
What is it with them and cutting Dazai off, today?
It's the first time they see each other since September, the first time the kitsune allowed
himself to be this far from where Chuuya is, even if he knows the Akutagawa siblings are
keeping him safe. So they could at least try to let him finish one sentence, right? They asked
about it in the first place.
"What's with that reaction?" The fox sighs, a small frown forming on his face as he looks
between the two.
The tanuki looks at Odasaku, then at Dazai again, his eyes bewildered as he speaks. "Dazai,
you never show your fox form, not unless you're set on killing someone."
Ah, that's… true, to some extent.
It’s not a rule Dazai set for himself, he simply prefers his human–like form because the fox
one isn’t as convenient on a daily basis. It is stronger – physically speaking – which is why
he uses it in combat, but only when the opponent is strong enough to be a threat.
That being said, it’s not like he has never used it without the intent of spilling someone’s
blood.
"I showed it to you two, once." Dazai reminds them.
"After several decades of getting to know us." The redhead points out carefully. "Not a few
months."
Which is even more true, but Dazai chooses to ignore it for the time being. He doesn't need
new questions torturing his mind right after he has just began to think of it as fleeting
confusion.
"Anyway,” He starts again. “Chuuya fell asleep while nuzzling into my fur, which isn't a big
deal, he hugged me before—"
"You let him do what?!"
"—and then, as payment, I stroked our noses together—"
"Huh?!"
"—I don't know why exactly, but seeing Chibi so dumbfounded was a magnificent sight, so
I’m not complaining~"
Lost in the memories of that one evening, Dazai doesn't notice how his friends' expressions
turn from concern to confusion to realisation. The fox is too focused on the image of
Chuuya's red cheeks and silky hair falling on his face to see how Ango and Odasaku
exchange knowing looks.
The looks that are trying to force the other person to say it, neither of them willing to be the
one to explain to the fox what is happening to his mind. But, eventually, it's Odasaku that has
to take this burden upon himself.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, the redhead puts down his cup, not willing to spill the liquid
all over himself once – or if – the kitsune loses his cool. It’s happened enough times in the
past.
"Dazai," He starts slowly, gaining the fox's attention. "I don't think you're sick or poisoned."
Curiously, Dazai cocks his head, his brow high and a smirk blooming on his lips. "Oh? Then
—"
"I think you're in love."
And Dazai doesn't lose his cool, he doesn't move, barely even breathes because—
"...excuse me?"
—what nonsense is Odasaku talking about now?
Him? In love? Why would he? With who?
"You're in love..." The redhead tries again, holding the red gaze with his blue eyes. "...with
this human boy."
Ah, so Odasaku has gone mad, too?
As the fox looks at Ango, searching for someone reasonable, someone who is the most down
to earth one of them all, he's only met with averted eyes and an awkward expression on the
tanuki's face.
…so both of them have gone mad, huh?

"I am most certainly not in love with anyone."
"You sure sound as if you like him, though..." Ango mutters, still avoiding the fox's gaze.
What are they talking about? What game is this supposed to be?
How is anything that he said even remotely similar to what someone with these feelings
would say?
Dazai is simply just trying to be nice to Chuuya – which is already something very new for a
kitsune like him – because he's been through so much and Dazai doesn't want to hurt him any
more than that. He's being considerate of the human, of the emotions his tiny body holds, of
the skin that feels so delicate under his touch, of the clear blue eyes that look like the most
beau—
Hmm. No, no.
He's just taking care of the Chibi who's always so reckless, so full of energy, so vibrant with
colours and so tempting to reach out to and—
Hmm.
Very no.
...this is all Odasaku's fault, Dazai wouldn’t be thinking about any of it if it wasn't for his
friends. These aren't his thought, his feelings, no way, he—
"I do not like him."
Chapter End Notes
Yes, they're both stupid.
NLABFHAIERGEIAYRGHIEUFNDJNCLDKMOWEIFHOWUFNDKMWFBEFJSM
DWIFBGIWRUJFSM
He wouldn't... right?
Chapter Notes
As long as Chuuya doesn’t think about it, he will be fine.
Dazai came back after less than a day of being away, more quiet than usual and not as eager
to annoy the redhead at the very first moment he stepped inside the residence. He doesn’t
look bothered by anything, it’s more like he’s lost in thought all the time and doesn’t seem to
care, or even notice, the world around him.
Except for when Chuuya is around.
Or so the redhead thinks.
Because there is no way to know for sure without asking – and Chuuya doesn’t dare bring it
up, not yet, not until Ryuu’s irrational accusations stop taking up his mind – but the boy often
finds himself thinking he can feel Dazai’s gaze on himself. Distant, silent, only observing and
never coming closer – much like in the very beginning, back in summer, but somewhat
different.
Back then, Chuuya wasn’t paying it much attention and now he can’t not search for the dark
eye following him.
Back then, it was more curious than anything else and now…
Now Chuuya isn’t sure what it is, but he knows it doesn’t bother him that much. If anything,
it’s Ryuu’s words from that time that always start a storm in his mind these days, no matter
how hard Chuuya tries to forget them. Because they planted a seed of possibility, absurd as it
may be, and it’s never easy to get rid of it once it’s taken root.
If he’s being honest, it’s not like he hates the kitsune – how could he? Dazai isn’t a saint, he
can’t even be called a good person by the usual standards, but he has and still is the one
person who brings Chuuya comfort. He has helped him through so much and the boy is
grateful for it all. He also doesn’t particularly mind the time they spend together, be it the
walks or the late night tails brushing.
If it’s only to himself and not to the Akutagawa siblings, Chuuya can admit he likes Dazai.
Platonically.
As a friend, sort of.
As a close person who means something to him.
But it’s also true that he does find the fox annoying more often than not, especially his jokes
and teasing remarks. Plus, it’s not like Chuuya has ever looked at Dazai as anything else
other than a close friend—
Well, fine. His mind sometimes betrays him and slightly strays from the calm and peaceful
and uninterested path Chuuya prefers it to follow. But it’s not like it has to mean anything
other than that Chuuya has eyes.
The redhead spent his entire life either among the villagers or in Adam’s shrine, always
surrounded by the faces he had considered his family. It’s not like there wasn’t anyone good–
looking around, because there were people who Chuuya could easily tell were objectively
attractive, but it was always more complicated than that. As a child, he was too young and
uncaring about such things, finding it much more fun to laugh with his friends about
everyone’s crushes and such.
Then, as a teen, he spent his days in a temple, surrounded by older men that, again, he
considered family at best – strangers at worst. And after coming back to the village… well,
he was busy. Besides, in a village this small it’s actually more common for people to find
spouses during travels, or for people to move here, rather than for the families that live next
door to each other to bond with marriage.
Of course, it’s not a rule, people are free to do as they wish, Shirase and Yuan being the best
example—
Ah.
Or maybe they would have been if not…
Regardless—
Chuuya isn’t a stranger to beauty, he isn’t a stranger to desire – he’s a 20 year old man, he’s
gone through puberty, he has been curious, as most people are at some point – and he can’t
deny the objective fact that, despite his questionable character, Dazai is aesthetically pleasing
to the eye.
Maybe it comes with being a kitsune, but there is always this aura of elegance and power
surrounding him, adding to the already perfect image. Sure, he’s a demon and a part of
Chuuya tries to argue that the boy shouldn’t be even considering it in the first place, but…
Dazai is, without a doubt, attractive.
And Chuuya is, also without a doubt, only a 20 year old man who happens to have a lot of
free time on his hands lately.
But it doesn’t mean anything.
This isn’t love.
He’s young and he has just had the most eventful year of his life, with drastic changes that
weren’t always welcome – he’s adjusting, his feelings are all over the place. A single thought
or two doesn’t mean anything, and even if he does talk about Dazai more than he’d like to
admit—
The fox lives here, for fucks sake. If that’s not enough of a reason to dismiss Ryuu’s claim,
Chuuya doesn’t know what is.
And it’s frustrating because if Ryuu hasn’t said anything, Chuuya would have never started to
question his own mind. He wouldn’t have started to feel aware of his thoughts, or to
consciously search for the kitsune during the day. If he’s thinking about Dazai more than
usual, it’s not because he wants to—
It’s Ryuu’s fault.
And Gin’s, she won’t be left out of this after she had the time of her life laughing at Chuuya.
…but if the redhead was to think of it as a theoretical possibility with no connection to the
real world, then maybe he could see where the Akutagawas are going from.
Aesthetics aside, Dazai does make Chuuya feel safe.
They live together, no matter what may have happened in the past they found a way to
understand each other again. The kitsune may be annoying more often than not and he’s
probably never going to lose the faint air of arrogance surrounding him, but he treats Chuuya
as a person, not a charity case or a toy to kill time with. Or so it feels like, at least.
The fox has his – fine – cute moments, mostly when his tails or ears betray the emotions he
makes sure to keep out of his face. Or when he’s lacking basic human knowledge or intuition.
Or when he’s in his fox form. Yes, mostly then.
Objectively speaking, Dazai isn’t that bad – he’s intelligent, as kitsunes are, strong, and he
can be respectful if he wants to, he’s caring when needed.
But he’s a demon.
Even if Chuuya doesn’t care about his past, about his killings and whether he still does it
even now, the redhead knows there is this distance between them – there has been since
before they met. That’s what living in different worlds means, that’s just how things are.
Besides, it’s not like Dazai would ever think of him as a possible partner.
…right?
If there’s one thing Dazai hates, it’s when people try to mess with his mind.
Granted, it doesn’t happen often, not really, because even if they may want to try, it wouldn’t
work. There aren’t many that are strong enough to even get close to him, let alone manage to
slip into the maze of his mind with their words. It would also require Dazai to care about
what they’re saying in the first place and, frankly, he rarely ever does.
But Odasaku and Ango are different.
Unfortunately.
The three of them have known each other for far too long for Dazai to dismiss their claims.
Plus, their opinions do matter to him most of the time, even if only as simple insights and
nothing more.
Which is why the current situation is complicated.
Because no matter how much Dazai thinks about it, no matter how much he observes the
redhead from afar while he’s gathering his thoughts – Odasaku and Ango must be wrong.
Chuuya is intriguing in many ways, of course he is. The first human ever to not be scared to
death of him, the first human ever to come close enough to intertwine their lives to this
extent. The first to talk to him as if him being a demon didn’t matter, bicker and defy the fox
at any given chance, the first to laugh and smile with Dazai.
This boy is everything Dazai didn’t think possible before.
And the kitsune can’t deny Chuuya his beauty, whether the human is aware of it or not.
His hair burns like the fire of his character, his eyes are as clear as the ocean – tempting with
their shine, but deep and dangerous once you get lost in them. He wears his emotions on his
face so freely, like an open book with never–ending passages for Dazai to read and read and
never feel bored.
But those are merely facts.
Not being a blind fool doesn’t mean Dazai is in love.
After all, he’s a kitsune, a demon, it’s in his nature to kill and fight and deceive. He doesn’t
do love – never has.
He can allow himself to care for others, but even that wasn’t always the case. There were
times when nothing and no one mattered to him, old days when his only purpose was to
entertain himself by causing misfortune to others. He knows better now, even if only a little.
What exactly it was that made him care for the redhead, Dazai isn’t sure. It happened both
too slowly for him to notice and too quickly for him to question.
Maybe it’s this novelty Chuuya brings with himself.
Maybe it’s the responsibility the fox has, and still does, felt towards the injured person he
picked up that day, the only human boy who could see his flames.
Maybe it was born out of curiosity and nothing else, who can tell?
He likes watching the boy smile, likes hearing his voice or quiet footsteps as he’s walking
around the house that has felt so empty for centuries. Having Chuuya brush his tails is always
an enjoyable experience, tasting his food – despite how Dazai has never been interested in
trying anything human – brings him this sense of domesticity, of something easy after a
lifetime of puzzles.
…it’s bizarre.
For once in his life, Dazai feels baffled by his own actions and feelings.
And talking to Odasaku and Ango didn’t help, it only made matters more confusing than they
already were, because—
Love?
More so – being in love with a human? With a creature so fragile, Dazai could break it with
his hands if he wasn’t careful enough? With a mortal that hasn’t even seen the world, hasn’t
experienced most of what it has to offer?
With someone who should fear him?
…with Chuuya who would never love him back?
Shit–!
The tray slips from Chuuya’s hands as he loses balance, his eyes widening as they watch the
cup and the small plate starting to fall, as he feels himself heading for the floor because he
tripped over his own feet while lost in thought—
But he doesn’t fall.
Nothing breaks.
The cup and the plate wobble slightly on a tray balanced on a white tail, not even a single
drop spilled on the floor. There are hands supporting him by the arms, keeping Chuuya
standing as the initial shock and panic leaves his body.
“Such a clumsy Chibi.” Dazai muses, letting go of the redhead’s body once Chuuya doesn’t
need support anymore. “Tripping over his own feet.”
Ugh.
“I’m not clumsy.” The boy tries to argue, reaching for the tray. “I just spaced out for a
moment.”
“Oh?” Tilting his head to the side, the fox doesn’t step to the side to let Chuuya pass. “And
what was Chibi so intensely thinking about?”
… ugh. Again.
That’s a question Chuuya doesn’t feel like answering, he doesn’t even feel like admitting it to
himself. It’s all the sibling’s fault!
“...” His cheeks heat up under Dazai’s stare, and the boy hates it. “Nothing in particular.”
Because he’ll be damned before he tells the fox he was thinking about him, or rather, about
the conversation with Ryuu about him. It’s the only thing Chuuya never wants the other to
know, Dazai doesn’t need to know it ever happened or that it’s been bothering Chuuya ever
since. He trusts Ryuu and Gin to keep quiet about it too.
His reaction to the question, however, must have been too obvious, because Dazai’s lips
stretch into a grin, his eye flashing red for a second.
There is no way he knows what Chuuya is thinking about exactly, he can’t actually read
people’s minds, and they haven’t been talking all that much since he came back from meeting
with his friends. He can’t know.
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me~”
But he can guess it’s something embarrassing, given the redhead’s expression and blush.
“Well, then something is wrong with your eye, stupid fox.” Huffing, Chuuya steps around
him and continues walking to the garden before his food and tea get cold. “And why are you
sneaking up on me?!”
Of course, the kitsune follows after him. “Can’t I be strolling around my own house?”
“And you just, oh, so accidentally happen to always be there when I trip every time?”
“Would Chibi rather fall?”
He did not fall for—
Nevermind.
He rolls his eyes, partially irritated with himself as much as he is with Dazai. “Forget it.”
It’s not like Chuuya isn’t grateful for the help, cleaning up spilled drink and broken cups isn’t
actually fun, but he also doesn’t understand why Dazai doesn’t just… do it without hiding
most of the time? Well, maybe not hiding per se, but without keeping this weird distance
between them. It’s not uncomfortable, just weird.
And the fact that he still always keeps an eye on him, makes Chuuya all the more confused.
There’s no difference in how Dazai acts when they are together, there is no difference in how
he speaks.
So why? What happened with his friends?
Why is it bothering Chuuya?
…and the answer Ryuu or Gin would give him doesn’t count. The boy isn’t accepting their
opinions at the moment.
“You’ve been acting weird lately.” Unconsciously, his thoughts slip past his lips and Chuuya
has to force himself not to groan from frustration. He did not mean to say it.
“How so?” The fox sounds curious, but there’s a hint of suspicion in his voice as well.
Huh, strange.
“Well…” Now he has to say it, or the kitsune will get even more suspicious. Or worse –
interested. “You’re more quiet.” And Chuuya chooses to look away, anywhere but at Dazai’s
face. “And you don’t disturb me that often.”
Which is both a good and a bad thing, Chuuya has come to realise.
Good because he finally has more peace, and bad because he has more time for his mind to
wander to places it shouldn’t. And because Chuuya isn't looking, he doesn’t see the way
Dazai blinks, genuinely surprised, or the way his grin softens every so slightly.
“Is that Chibi’s way of saying he wants to spend more time with me~?”
Gods, save him.
Or kill him, anything will do right now.
“You wish.” The boy huffs, ignoring the way his heart skipped when one of Dazai’s tails
settled around him after they’ve sat down. “That’s my way of saying you must be plotting
something.”
A chuckle rings from the kitsune’s chest, low and sweet—
Chuuya is so killing Ryuu for this.
“Like what?” The fox muses.
“I don’t know, but it can’t be anything good, so stop.”
Dazai hums in response, amused but not as teasing as Chuuya would have expected. “So
Chibi does want me to talk to him more.”
Yes. No.
Maybe…?
“Right now I want you to shut up and let me enjoy my meal in peace.” But merely a second
later, Chuuya contradicts himself by asking yet another question, because he doesn’t actually
enjoy being watched in silence when he eats. “How was the meeting with your friends?
Chuuya has never met them in person, but he knows of them from Dazai’s stories.
Another hum. “It was…” He draws it out as if he’s looking for the right word, as if he isn’t
sure. “...interesting. But fruitless.”
With chopsticks still in his mouth, Chuuya tilts his head back to glance at Dazai, his brows
raised. “Huh?”
The corners of Dazai’s mouth twitch, his eye narrowing slightly – focused, but not
intimidating. There’s a pause that lasts a heart beat, a blink of an eye, in which Chuuya finds
it hard to swallow under the intense gaze before—
“The alcohol got to their heads.” Dazai sighs.
…oh.
“And they started coming up with the most unbelievable theories.”
Ah, Chuuya can relate, but without the alcohol factor.
“Like what?” The boy asks, relieved that he’s not the only one suffering from having to listen
to people’s bizarre ideas. Dazai’s friends couldn’t have come up with the same thing as Ryuu
anyway, so maybe he’ll at least get to listen to something funny for once.
Only – Dazai doesn’t say anything. Not right away.
The fox lets the silence stretch, only his tails shifting behind them filling the air with quiet
noises.
“Nothing worth mentioning.” He ends up saying. “It was all nonsense.” Then, Dazai’s tone
rings lighter as he asks about yet another thing Chuuya would rather avoid. “But I wonder,
what did you do to my servants while I was away, hm?”
It’s pure luck the redhead doesn’t choke on his food, only his self–control keeping him from
letting out an awkward whine. It’s enough that Dazai can hear his heartbeat, he doesn’t need
to see or hear any more obvious signs.
“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”
“They’ve asked for a day away to visit Kouyou.” Ah, that. Yes, Chuuya heard about it. “And
it’s weirdly coincidental with the time you three were left alone~”
Honestly, he doesn’t know why the Akutagawas chose to go now. He has a theory about it,
one he really hopes is wrong because there is only so much he can handle at once. If Kouyou
were to join in on the teasing, Chuuya would be a goner.
The redhead clears his throat, buying time to think of a reasonable answer. “Don’t blame me
for your servants being overworked and needing a break from you.”
“Excuse me? I’m a perfect master, they have never complained.”
Another roll of Chuuya’s eyes. “Really?”
“Yes.” Dazai doesn’t even hesitate. “And their work is as easy as it can be right now.”
“And the jokes?”
Because Chuuya may not know why Ryuu and Gin decided to take a day off now, he doesn’t
know what they think about their work, but he does remember their first conversation and the
reason why they keep their ears and tails hidden.
Judging from Dazai’s smirk, the fox knows exactly what he means, too.
“If that was the case,” The fox says. “They would have left a long time ago, and they didn’t.”
“...you shouldn’t sound so proud of yourself with this.”
“Why not? It means they’re loyal.”
Chuuya opens his mouth to say something to that, but chooses against it. Dazai is both right
and wrong, and trying to explain it to him would most likely be pointless anyway. The boy
settles on a shake of his head and a deep sigh as he continues his meal.
This fox is truly weird.
What he says, the way he thinks – it is so hard to grasp sometimes, and when Chuuya does,
it’s always confusing or twisted in the most irrational, but not always hurtful, ways. How can
his mind think of Dazai as a possible par—
Okay, the Akutagawas deserve these jokes. Let them suffer.
At Chuuya’s side, Dazai uses the silence that has settled around them to think. Not about the
siblings’ visit to Kouyou, he did that before, but about Chuuya’s words from earlier.
The redhead noticed the small change about him even the fox didn’t realise until it was
pointed out. It’s nothing big, he knows it’s only because he was preoccupied with the
thoughts left behind in his mind by Odasaku and Ango—
But Chuuya noticed.
Did it bother him? And why?
It’s not like they drifted apart in the last few days. Dazai was still around, he still talked to the
redhead and they spent almost as much time together as always.
Ah, but it really is cute of Chuuya, isn’t it?

Objectively speaking.
It doesn’t have to mean anything, it doesn’t have to make a small, warm flame light up in
Dazai’s chest, but… it’s nice to know that Chuuya likes having him around, even if he claims
the fox is ‘annoying’ him more often than not. It’s always satisfying to watch the boy blush
when he trips and Dazai helps him.
Come to think of it… it’s been happening a lot in the last few days, hasn’t it?
Is Chuuya okay?
“Is Chibi feeling sick?” The question escapes him almost on its own.
Dazai’s ears perk up, startled, when the boy chokes on his food, coughing into his sleeve until
he can catch his breath again.
“Wh—” A pair of blue, watering from all the coughing, eyes looks up at him, a faint blush
painting Chuuya’s cheeks. “Why would you ask that?”
“...is it something weird to ask?”
“No, I mean—” His brows furrow. “Do I look sick?”
Well…
“No.” Dazai answers honestly. It’s not about his appearance, it’s about how he acts. “But you
act like it, sometimes.”
Especially now, with how even the fox can’t tell if Chuuya is more pale or red on the face.
His heart sure beats faster than it should, but the boy did choke just a few seconds ago.
“...what do you mean?”
“Chibi didn't space out so often before.” Dazai shrugs. “And now he trips over his own feet
all the time.”
Chuuya blinks – once, twice – then let out a relieved sigh. “You’re still thinking about that?”
He goes back to his meal, shoulders relaxing. “I’m fine. It’s probably just the seasons
changing.”
Hmm.
Something in the back of Dazai’s head tells him it’s not only that, but it’s the same whisper
that was awakened by Odasaku and Ango a few days prior, and Dazai isn’t exactly willing to
listen to it. If the boy says it’s fine, then it must be. Besides, it’s not like the fox minds getting
to help Chuuya out more often.
If anything, he enjoys having the redhead in his arms—
But let’s not dwell on that…

—
And somewhere far from here, Kouyou can only let out a sigh, wondering if there will ever
come a day when that fox understands he isn’t the heartless demon he used to be. Somewhere
under the sakura trees, she can only shake her head and think back to all the previous times
Dazai caused her headaches.
But it may just be the case that she knows what they need.
Chapter End Notes
They're still dumb, but at least their denial is SLOWLY letting go...
Don't worry tho! Once they let go, they really LET GO >:3
When It Finally Feels Right
Chapter Notes
All it takes is one gift from the right person.
"...what is it?"
Suspicion paints his voice as Chuuya eyes the small pouch Ryuu handed him. It's the size of
his palm, silky material with floral designs pleasantly cool on his skin. It’s not heavy, but not
too light either, and there’s a golden thread tying it closed.
"A gift." The other boy says." From Kouyou."
The mention of her name melts the redhead's frown into a much softer expression, memories
of the kind spirit warming his mind, even if they come together with some of Chuuya's old
shadows. He remembers the promise he made to her about visiting again, he is planning on
asking Dazai if he can take him there soon with the flower season already arriving upon them
and he knows it's been a few months already but—
"Why would she send me a gift all of a sudden?" Blue eyes look up from the floral pattern to
Ryuu. "Did I miss something?”
The wolf shakes his head, sitting down next to the redhead. "She gave it to me before I came
back here." He says, shrugging. “Maybe she felt like it.”
“Right…” It doesn’t sound like an obvious lie, despite the suspicion Chuuya still harbours
towards the Akutagawas’ trip. "Did something happen?" He asks, trying to lure the answers
out of the other boy.
It's not like Ryuu having his own life outside of here is strange, not that much anyway, but it
may be the first time Chuuya has ever witnessed him being away for no obvious reason, or
even heard him mentioning spending time away from Dazai's residence. Sure, the three of
them went to the Autumn Festival, but that’s because it was a special occasion, a good reason
to get away from the forest.
All things considered, the possibility of it being not only a personal visit is there, especially
with the kind of conversation he had with Ryuu and Gin right before. Again – suspicious.
But Ryuu shakes his head again. "I felt like visiting." He says with a perfectly calm voice..
"She used to help me and Gin train after Dazai–sama took us in. We visit her every now and
then to keep in touch."
Oh, that makes sense. Maybe.

It also sounds like something Chuuya will definitely need to ask about later, because the fox
somehow forgot to mention that small detail. Not that the redhead has heard anything about
how the fox and the Akutagawas met, or why Dazai decided to take them in. But that’s a
story for another time.
Right now, there are fresh questions about the present, not the past, occupying his mind.
"So, what is this?" He holds the pouch up by the golder thread keeping it sealed. "And why?"
"It's for that tree in the middle of the garden."
Chuuya glances at the garden from where they sit, colours of the blooming flowers painting
his sight. "But it seems fine to me?"
"I know that, but Kouyou said this will make it… more interesting.” Ryuu sends him a faint
smile, but puts his hands up, palms out, when he sees Chuuya’s eyes narrowing at him. “Her
words, not mine."
(It's meant to help.)
"But what do I do with it?" Before, Chuuya thought there may be seeds inside of it,
something he could plant around the house, but if it's not that, then what?
He's not sure what else there is to be done about the garden, all the work he's done over the
summer has paid off – more and more flowers bloom every day, different scents and colours
filling the green of the forest around them. Some of them are still waiting for their season,
more will bloom in April, May, some will follow in the summer, but for now everything
seems to be just the way Chuuya wished for it.
What would there be to be done about the tree, anyway? It looks healthy, the green leaves are
already crowning its branches and casting soothing shadows over the garden.
"From what I'm told..." Ryuu starts again, a hint of hesitation in his voice."...if you scatter the
powder inside around its roots, something will happen."
"Ah, thanks." Chuuya rolls his eyes with a soft snort. "That explains a lot."
"Forgive me for not being a flower spirit." The other's sarcastic nature is slowly coming out
again.
Ryuu has been more... vocal with his thoughts since that conversation they had a few days
ago and the redhead is torn, not sure whether it's a good or a bad thing. He appreciates it
when he can know how and what his demon friend is thinking, however, there are times when
it can be dangerous for Chuuya's peace of mind. The closer they get, the more the redhead
can understand what Ryuu is thinking, even if the boy doesn’t outright say it.
One glance sometimes screams volumes, one twitch of his lips is like a sign clear as a day,
and whenever these signs lead Chuuya back to that conversation…
It means a headache.
Hopefully, this won't be such a time.
"Kouyou didn't explain anything?" Chuuya asks instead, more curious and slightly less
suspicious now.
"She did, a little." Then, Ryuu dares to smirk at him and it almost looks like a normal person's
smirk, not his usual, stone–cold smile of a wolf that doesn’t know much about using facial
expressions. "But I'm not telling."
Huh?
Why not?
Chuuya raises one brow. "Why?"
"Because it won't work if you know."
"What won't work?" He tries to push, to make the other boy give him a bit more information
to satisfy his curiosity, but to no avail.
Ryuu's gaze softens, but he doesn't share whatever knowledge he has. "Ask Kouyou when
you see her next time." He says instead. "She'll love to see your reaction."
His reaction? To what?
…just what have they planned?
"Ah, Gin." Dazai opens his eye when he senses the girl coming his way, looking up at her
from where he's lying on the roof, enjoying the warmth of spring on his skin and fur. "What
is it?"
Whatever the Chibi may say, the roof is the best place to relax with how much space there is
for his tails to stretch freely, and with how he's usually never disturbed up here.
Usually. Today is, very clearly, an exception.
"Did you enjoy your visit to the lethal flower?" He knows both of the Akutagawa siblings
recently went to Kouyou for some reason, he didn’t mind allowing them to.
They said it's because of nostalgia, because they’ve been thinking back to the old days a lot
lately and it’s been a long time since they went there only to chat and catch up. It wouldn’t be
the first time, it wasn’t that strange to have them ask for a day off, at least not until Dazai
asked if that’s all there is to it.
Of course, they would never lie to him – they wouldn’t be able to even if they tried, which is
most likely why they didn’t. Ryuu said it’s also because they want to ask for help with a
matter they aren't sure about and, apparently, don't feel like asking the fox about.
Which is totally fine.
Dazai has only been taking care of them for a few centuries, no big deal. Right?
The girl smiles and nods, carefully coming closer from the edge of the roof to where Dazai is
resting. She stops right by the fox's tails, mindful of not stepping on them by mistake, and
extends her hand to him – a small, rolled up piece of paper between her fingers.
Dazai raises a brow, to which Gin only says two words:
"From Kouyou."
Yes, he figured. It smells like the sakura spirit, but what could it possibly be?
Taking the piece of paper from the girl, Dazai’s eye narrows ever so slightly, looking for any
sign of a spell being woven into the material but finding none. Then, Gin bows without a
word and leaves the fox alone on the roof again, all with the same polite smile she always
wears.
There doesn't seem to be anything special about the paper. It looks and feels like Kouyou’s
usual, flower paper that she uses to send messages. There can't be a lot written inside with
how small the roll is, unless there's a trick to it that somehow managed to escape Dazai's
attention.
Curiosity picking at his mind, the fox unrolls the paper and—
‘You're welcome.’
Huh?
Chuuya doesn't use the powder right away, though his mind keeps coming back to the small
pouch more often than not. He wants to know what Kouyou has planned for him, almost as
much as he wants to know why she did it, but he won't act like an overeager child.
He won't.
He'll let the conversation with Ryuu take its course, he'll drink tea with him and Gin once the
girl joins them, he'll prepare dinner for later because cooking when the Sun is up is more
comfortable than using candles or even Dazai's flames to light up the kitchen.
It's already the middle of March, days last long enough for Chuuya to have time for
everything he may need to do before the cool evening settles around the forest. It's the time
when everything comes back to life after winter, when the wind wakes up to its warmth once
more. The winter’s hold on the world has been loosening for over two weeks now, much
earlier than Chuuya expected. Not that he minds, of course.
As he’s chopping vegetables on the stone plate, putting them aside until the water over the
fireplace boils, he thinks about Kouyou’s gift, about how Ryuu wouldn’t tell him anything
specific, hiding behind the excuses of not knowing enough or his smirks. It does add to the
anticipation more so than to worry, but Chuuya can’t seem to shake off this feeling that it’s
some kind of a trap as well.
Nothing dangerous, he’s fairly certain Kouyou wouldn’t send anything meant to hurt him, but
something feels off about all of this. Ryuu’s expression and this glint in his dark eyes, all of
this mysterious act he has been putting on—
The timing of his visit, so soon after the Akutagawa siblings tried to convince Chuuya that
he’s feeling something that he most certainly isn’t, is what worries the redhead the most.
Obviously, the siblings’ attempts brought no success so far – why would they? – even if they
did manage to plant a seed of uncertainty in Chuuya’s mind, and its roots are growing
stronger with each day.
Because what if?
Could all of this really be caused by affection?
Towards Dazai off all people, or demons, or whatever?
True, the appeal is most certainly there. Dazai’s hair always looks unruly, falling down on his
face – very annoying face, mind you – and curling around his fox ears, but it only makes the
kitsune look effortlessly handsome, highlighting the darkness or the red flash of his eye from
the shadows cast by his bangs. He doesn’t seem to be overly muscular, though from the few
times Chuuya felt his arms around himself, he knows they are well toned.
Not that he was paying attention to that specifically, it’s something he simply happened to
notice one time.
His point is – yes, Chuuya may actually be attracted to the kitsune, but physical attributes
aren’t everything, not to Chuuya, and Dazai’s character is simply terrible.
He thrives on giving Chuuya headaches, making his life full of unnecessary anger outbursts
and then laughing at him. He speaks in mockery and teases, his every look screams mischief,
and he doesn’t even try to hide it.
His words are like a maze, lurking his listener into a trap they won’t be able to climb out of,
but he doesn’t conceal his intentions – the glint in his eye, the way his tails sway or how his
ears perk up. Dazai’s body, at least to Chuuya, never lies.
Maybe that’s why the redhead feels drawn to it? Because it’s like peeking at something
usually hidden from the view, something not so easy to grasp?
It’s not always the truth the redhead would wish for, sometimes it’s so twisted he’s not sure
he can call it truth anymore, but there’s no malice. In a way, a very arrogant and corrupted
way, Dazai is–
Honest.
Or the closest the fox can get to that.
He’s too observant – something that keeps driving Chuuya insane – and he always pushes for
the answers he seeks. He comes up with the most bizarre ideas to cheer him up, to keep his
mind occupied when it’s spiralling down and—
—but this is not about listing what’s good about Dazai. This is Chuuya trying to remind his
own mind and heart that the fox is not someone he would ever consider falling for.
(But love doesn’t ask for permission, does it?)
Again, he’s grateful to Dazai, for many things, there’s no point in denying that, and he may
be willing to admit that his presence isn’t all that uncomfortable as he likes to make it seem.
But love? Or even like? That’s a completely different story, one Chuuya won’t be telling
because it’s not his.
There’s nothing between them, nothing to speak about and nothing to keep thinking about
over and over again, every day, every night—
“Ugh!”
The knife makes a loud sound on the chopping stone when Chuuya uses a bit too much force
while putting it down, too frustrated with his own mind. Why is he thinking about Dazai even
when he’s supposed to be focusing on Dazai? Why is he thinking about all of this again?
This is all Ryuu’s fault. If it wasn’t for the stupid wolf, he would never even consider it, but
the Akutagawa siblings just had to make everything more difficult, didn’t they? Gin sure
enjoyed herself during that talk and—
“Chibi~”
Dazai’s voice startles him, coming seemingly out of nowhere because Chuuya was too busy
planning out revenge on his friends for making his mental and emotional life harder to notice
when the fox stepped into the kitchen.
“... what?” The boy groans, sounding more annoyed than he intended to.
“Oh, my~” The kitsune’s brow shoots up, his lips curling at the corners. “Someone’s in a bad
mood today.”
“I’m not in a bad mood.” For now anyway, but with the fox here to disturb him… Anything
may happen. “You just almost gave me a heart attack, stupid fox.” Turning his head to look at
the other, Chuuya sees how Dazai’s fangs flash when he speaks, sharp and deadly behind the
soft lips.
“Are you sure you should be spacing out while holding a knife?”
He shouldn’t, obviously.
“I’m not holding a knife.”
“You were when I came in and called out to you for the first time.”
…well, fuck.
Rolling his eyes, his cheeks only slightly darker than usual, Chuuya ignores the satisfied grin
beaming at him from the fox and walks to the pot placed over the fireplace to check if the
water is already boiling. It is – at least one thing goes as planned, thank gods.
“Did you actually need something?” The redhead asks as he drops the chopped vegetables
into the pot. “Or did you simply want to annoy me?”
Neither would be a surprise, really.
Humming to himself, Dazai watches the other walk around the kitchen. “I was bored and
Chibi is always a good cure for that~”
Now, whether that can be considered a compliment or not, Chuuya isn’t sure.
“But it turns out he’s preparing dinner earlier than usual today.” The fox continues, letting out
an exaggerated sigh. “Are you trying out a new recipe again?”
“No. But there’s something I want to do later.” Of course, that picks Dazai’s curiosity.
Chuuya doesn’t need to look at him to know how his ears perk up, he can hear it in the
playful tone of his voice.
“Oh?” The kitsune muses, stepping into the kitchen. “And what would that be?”
A sigh. “I wish I knew…”
Come to think of it, Ryuu would probably have to tell him if the kitsune ordered it, which
sounds more tempting than it should, but the redhead isn’t cruel, not to his friends. He’s
already waited half a day, a while longer won’t hurt.
Plus, if it’s meant as a surprise, then why ruin it? He doesn’t hate the idea of it, he’s just not
sure what to expect.
“Kouyou sent me something for the garden.” The boy explains, sensing Dazai’s silent
question.. “But I don’t know what exactly is going to happen, I wasn’t told.”
Too busy with looking after their food and fumbling with seasoning, Chuuya can’t see how
Dazai’s eye narrows at the mention of the spirit’s name. Because now it’s even more
suspicious. First, the message that has no clear meaning, not one the fox can see anyway, and
now this?
What is Kouyou planning?
Are the Akutagawa siblings in on it?
It can’t be anything dangerous, not only does Kouyou know picking a fight with him would
be a huge mistake, but she also likes Chuuya too much to do anything that would hurt him,
and if it really is simply something for the garden…
More flowers, perhaps?
More colours for the Chibi to enjoy and smile about? It would, somewhat, explain this note
she sent him, considering their last visit and what she was told, but… Just in case, maybe it’s
better to be there with the redhead when he tries out her gift, whatever it may be.
For now, though, Dazai will settle for watching how Chuuya does his wonders in the kitchen,
how he brings out the most aromatic smells from such simple ingredients Gin gathers for
them. He’ll throw in a comment here or there, ask a question once in a while to weave the
silence with their conversation. Because something as simple as letting his eye follow the
redhead during his mundane tasks is almost as interesting as teasing him.
It’s fascinating to see him so… comfortable around the residence, lIke he’s walking around
his own home.
Which he is, if you ask Dazai, but does Chuuya know it?
Does Chuuya consider this place his home, his safe place? Or is it only a temporary stop in
the human’s life, a stop he plans to leave sooner or later? Something in Dazai’s chest
clenches at the thought of his Chibi leaving—
Hmm.
His Chibi?
Why would he think that? Sure, the human used to be his servant, but he isn’t anymore, and
Dazai may be a demon, a kitsune, he may be selfish with no respect for humanity itself, but
he isn’t trying to own Chuuya.
…right?
The redhead would likely try to punch him if he heard that, or he'd start to hate him for
disregarding his worth – which the fox isn’t doing, by the way. It’s not holding the human’s
life in his grasp that appeals to Dazai’s mind, it’s…
Claiming him?
Oh, but it can’t be that. Dazai has already made up his mind.
Whatever Odasaku and Ango pretend to sense from him, the kitsune won’t let it get to his
head only because his friends planted a very dangerous thought in his mind. He is willing to
admit that Chuuya features are unique, pleasant to the eye even, the fox may be a liar by
nature but he sees the appeal. In the long strands that fall over the porcelain skin like liquid
sunset, in the eyes clearer than the summer sky, in how delicate the human’s body would feel
under his fingers…
He’s getting distracted. Again.
When will it finally stop?
The point is: no matter how easy it is to get lost in his conversation with the redhead and how
soothing his presence is, whatever Dazai feels can never be affection. It isn’t affection, not the
kind his friends accuse him of, and he will say this over a hundred times if he has to.
Yes, he cares about the Chibi, he said so many times already.
Yes, he wants Chuuya to stay here with him, forever preferably, but—
Hmm.
Maybe it’s better not to think about it too much, after all.
Time passes as the smell of their dinner flows through the empty corridors of the residence.
When they step out of the house, the Sun is already nearing the horizon, painting the sky with
a pink hue.
Inspecting the pouch Chuuya was given, Dazai’s eye narrows as he’s trying to figure out what
the powder inside can be meant for. It smells like a spell, but then again, it’s a present from a
flower spirit for Chuuya’s garden, of course it contains her magic somehow.
“So?” The redhead looks up at him. “Any ideas?”
The kitsune knows a lot of spells, he’s studied all kinds of magic for centuries. “No.” But
most of it was meant for battles and trickery, which doesn’t help him right now.
Sighing, Chuuya takes the small pouch back, his fingers fumbling with the golden thread as
he walks to the tree in the middle of the garden. “I guess we'll just have to see for ourselves,
then.”
The tree isn’t anything special, it looks like any other tree from the forest and Chuuya isn’t
sure why Dazai decided to keep it, especially when he didn’t bother to look after the garden
in the first place, but it’s not an unpleasant sight. Plus, it provides a very welcome shadow
whenever the boy wants to sit among the flowers during the heat of the day, so he has never
felt the need to ask about it.
Looking inside the pouch for the first time, Chuuya is met with pink and gold powder mixed
together, sparkling every time light falls on it. It smells like flowers, adding a new scent to
the already rich air around them. It’s sweeter than anything he grows in the garden, but also
more delicate on his senses.
The redhead stops under the tree, looking down at the roots tangling in the ground, the first
hint of hesitation sparking in his chest. He trusts Kouyou, he really does—
“Chibi?” Dazai’s voice reaches him from behind, reminding Chuuya that he isn’t alone and
that the Sun is already dangerously low in the sky.
“It’s fine.” He mutters to himself, sprinkling the powder around the tree’s roots as he walks
around it until there’s nothing left in the pouch. With his eyes still on the roots sticking out
from under the grass, Chuuya walks back to stand next to Dazai, waiting for something to
happen but…
For what feels like eternity, nothing changes.
The new scent mixes with the garden’s strong aroma and gets lost among all the other scents,
the tree still looks the same and the Sun is now dangerously close to the horizon.
“So…” The redhead asks awkwardly, shifting from one feet to the other. “What now?” He
searches the fox’s face for a hint of explanation, but the kitsune’s red eye is scanning the
ground where the powders settled, his brow furrowed in silence.
“I’m not su—” But then, his eye widens and his lips stretch into an amused smirk, his head
shaking slightly before turning to Chuuya. “You’ll see very soon.” The fox says, his voice
more gentle than before, not a single note of worry left behind. “And I think you’ll like it.”
Well, that’s good to know, but he’ll like what?
Can’t Dazai just tell him if he knows?
For another second, there is only warm wind dancing around the garden and between the
flowers, nothing out of the ordinary when—
“What the…?”
—the ground starts to move.
Or rather, the roots start to move underneath it. The tree’s trunk starts vibrating, breaking
apart and coming back together, twisting around itself. Its leaves tremble, swirl around the
branches and fall to the grass before turning into dust.
Chuuya takes a step back, uncertain of what exactly is happening and why, all while Dazai
seems unfazed by the sight before them. Concern is slowly creeping into the redhead’s mind,
because he didn’t want to get rid of the tree – he liked having it here – so why would Kouyou
do something like that—
Oh.
The powder rises from the grass, covers the tree and sinks into it as the wood settles into its
new shape. New leaves appear on its branches, shyly green spots among the sea of blooming
white–pink flowers crowning the tree.
Oh.
That’s…
Chuuya doesn’t know how it’s possible, but he doesn’t care. He liked his garden before but…
He loves the sakura tree blooming in the middle of it, in all its glory and grace. He loves how
the petals seem to shine in the setting sun, how the gentle breeze swings the branches
spreading over their heads. He loves this sight, this smell, this feeling of warmth blooming in
his chest from a single glance.
With wide eyes and parted lips, Chuuya comes closer, his mind struggling to understand but
not feeling bothered by it anymore, not when he has this in front of him—
In front of them . Because he’s not alone.
He’s here with…
A shuddering breath escapes him, something between a sigh and a small laugh, as a bright
smile paints his face. He doesn’t know what pushes him to turn around from the breathtaking
sight, but there’s a need in his chest to search for Dazai, to see his reaction, to be able to
appreciate the view with the kitsune.
And when Chuuya’s eyes find him?
The boy doesn’t know what to say.
The fox smiles at him, much softer than Chuuya remembers, pink petals sticking to his white
fur and dark locks. His tails look like their shining with silver, just like that time the redhead
painted them, his eye is calm, deep hazel hue staring right into Chuuya’s soul and—
Ah…
The sakura tree without Dazai by his side would be so… dull, wouldn’t it?
He doesn’t ever want to admire it by himself, Chuuya wants to feel the warmth of the
kitsune’s smile whenever he thinks of the pink flowers, because it’s what gives them their
beauty in his mind, it’s what gives all of this sense.
How lonely it would be if Dazai wasn’t here. How no flowers would ever be able to replace
the feeling of having him by Chuuya’s side, of always being close to the one he—
And Dazai?
If there is one sight he could keep to himself for the whole eternity, one sight that he could
always protect no matter what – it would be this.
Chuuya. With his bright smile and eyes full of life, of hope (and of love). Among the flowers
he so admires, the colours that fade in comparison to the fire of his hair and crystal shine of
the blue orbs. It engraves itself in his mind as a whisper in the back of Dazai’s mind finally
rings clear:
It’s a sight he never wants to let go of. Ever.
He’s known that for a while, why was he ever hesitant? Why would he even think this wasn’t
what he wanted?
There is nothing else Dazai wants more, no one else he needs by his side more than the one
human who brings light into his life, the one person he—
Chuuya’s laughter draws him closer, his scent intoxicating in Dazai’s lungs, setting his
insides on fire. The way his lips part when he looks at him, the way the redhead’s expression
melts into something so pure, an emotion that has never been tainted, while his eyes shine
with silent hope and something else.
The fox doesn’t fight the pull and the human doesn’t step back.
Chuuya’s skin, flushed with the same shade of pink as the petals falling around them, feels
soft under Dazai’s palm; warm and perfect. The kitsune’s fingers hand slides across the
redhead’s cheek, behind his ear and behind his neck, his thumb caressing the corner of
Chuuya’s mouth. Dazai can almost feel how hot his breath is, how his throat moves when the
human swallows. He can see his wide eyes, his red lips and—
Dazai isn’t thinking when he leans down to feel these lips on his own.
He isn’t thinking about what he’s doing, only that the kiss makes him feel alive.
Chuuya’s long eyelashes tickle his skin as his eyes flutter close, the redhead leans into his
hand as their mouths stay locked, never pressing deeper, just…
Just staying like this, together.
Like they belong here.

Slowly, each other's tastes bloom on their lips, ghosting over their skin and seeping inside.
It’s only when Dazi pulls away, realisation washing over his mind that his eye widens, taking
in the redhead under him: dark cheeks, heavy half–lidded eyes, parted lips and a hot promise
of what’s hidden behind them—
“I’m sor—”
But he never finishes, Chuuya doesn’t let him.
“Do it again.” The boy says, his voice breathy as he tugs on the kitsune’s kimono. “Please.”
And it’s all the reassurance Dazai needs. All the encouragement the fox doesn’t feel like
fighting, not when the redhead says it like that.
His hand tilts Chuuya’s head when he locks their lips once more, fingers tangling in the fiery
locks, drawing a satisfied sigh from the human. Slowly, Dazai’s other arm wraps around the
boy’s middle, bringing their bodies closer and Chuuya grips at his clothes, never letting go.
This.
This is everything they needed.
Their mouths dancing together, lips sliding on lips and their breaths mixing together.
Chuuya can feel the ghost of sharp fangs against his skin, a wet tongue teasing his bottom lip,
sending a shiver down his spine because, gods, he wants it. So bad.
He wants to feel Dazai close, as close as he can and then even more , he wants to taste his
lips, his soul, and he wants to stay like this forever. He’s not afraid of the fangs teasing his
skin, he’s not afraid of shedding blood under them as long as the kitsune stays.
The redhead’s hands are fisted tightly in the dark kimono as he lets his body melt into the
arms around him. It feels hot, every inch of him is on fire and, yet, he strives for more.
For so long, Chuuya has been denying how much he wants it, but…
He likes it when Dazai slowly takes his lip between his teeth, how gently he sucks on it and
how he seems to swallow Chuuya’s every breath. He likes it when the kitsune acts more
rough, driven by the need he can feel in Dazai’s every touch. When the hand in his hair tugs
with a bit more force behind it, when Dazai’s hold around his waist tightens and when the fox
lets out a growl when Chuuya parts his lips for him.
Finally, finally, gods, finally—
The last hint of hesitation leaves Dazai when the redhead whines into the kiss, almost
begging for more, and his tongue slides into Chuuya’s mouth, slow at first and growing
hungrier with each taste he gets.
Their first kiss was slow, shy even, full of longing that has finally found its end.
But this one lets them set their feelings loose, lets them explore each other in ways they were
never allowed before. In the ways they themselves didn’t allow their minds to discover, or
even consider.
This one is full of need and want, full of desire that can’t be fully satisfied just yet, but—
But they’ll take it anyway. They’ll make it last.
This kiss is tongues dancing together, teeth scraping the sensitive skin, needy whines and low
growls, and when they part, both panting and their foreheads touching…
“That took you way too long.” Chuuya breathes out, voice shy but satisfied.
Dazai hums in response, leaning back and admiring how swollen and red Chuuya’s lips are,
how his eyes seem to sparkle from behind his long lashes. He can feel the redhead’s fast
pulse under his palm and hear his heart racing in his chest.
Ah, how adorable.
How beautiful.
“Don’t worry, Chibi.”
The kitsune’s hand rubs the back of Chuuya’s neck, sharp nails ghosting over his skin as
Dazai’s tails wrap around their bodies, gently stroking the boy’s back and encouraging him to
bury his face in Dazai’s chest.
“I won’t be making you wait any longer.”
Because finally, Chuuya is his.
It was perfect, but perfect always comes at a price.
The redhead spends the rest of the evening facing the unfortunate reality slowly reaching his
mind: acting on impulses is easy, pleasant even, but thinking about what has happened can be
incredibly tricky.
They kissed. Twice.
And it was great, Chuuya has no regrets about that (even if remembering how desperate he
sounded at the time is making him want to bury himself right here and now), but the problem
arising from that simple act of affection is now giving him a headache. Two problems,
actually.
One. How does he go about accepting the fact that he probably has liked Dazai for a while
without realising it? Scratch that, how does he go about the fact that he likes Dazai at all?
Two. So what are they to each other now?
Chuuya isn't going to pretend like nothing happened, now that he has had a taste of what his
entire soul had been craving, he isn't going to let it go so easily. He isn't going to put the
invisible wall between them when they've barely managed to get rid of it, but his mind is torn
between conflicting thoughts and desires.
A part of him is finally free, a part of his heart at last can be honest with his own feelings and
stop pushing them away, stop pretending like the pull between him and Dazai isn't there
because it is, and giving in to it is what Chuuya wants. However, there is also another voice
in his head, a quiet whisper in the dark corner of his soul…
Is it wise of him, as a human, to have such feelings for a kitsune?
Surprisingly, these whispers only ever question Chuuya's part in all of this, his worth, they
never try to make the redhead doubt Dazai's intentions.
Maybe it's because of what they've been through, maybe it's because Chuuya remembers how
the kitsune has always been there despite everything, or maybe it's because the redhead can
somehow see that it's not a lie, not a thoughtless trick.
In almost every interaction they've had since Chuuya got here there is a hint of unspoken
affection, of warmth that has always been unconditional, even if both of them refused to
acknowledge it. Chuuya believes that Dazai, at the very least, likes him more than he would a
random human who he happened to find at the death's door, more than even a friend, and he
doesn't question the fox's feelings.
But can he really allow himself to give his heart to a demon?
Does he deserve to be the object of such affection?
He wants to, gods, he wants to let go of every doubt his mind may try to feed him and melt
into the arms of a person his heart longs for. Because when Dazai kissed him for the first
time, that one gentle kiss was enough to shatter the walls that were keeping Chuuya's feelings
hidden away, it was enough to make him realise that this is what he needs more than anything
else.
The second kiss was proof of that, just like it was a promise of what more there could be if
only he'd decide to chase it.
...but can he?
Dazai is a demon, a kitsune that has lived far longer than any human could ever begin to
dream about – what if Chuuya isn't enough? What if he won't be enough? There's only so
much a human can offer and he doesn't want to be a burden Dazai will have to carry because
of some feelings they've only just realised. It's an issue he will have to find an answer to if he
wishes to let his heart be truly free, one day.
(Though, in a way, the answer will find him. )
But for now, no matter how hard he tries to think about it, his mind can't stay focused on the
negative side for too long because someone clearly doesn't have such complicated thoughts in
his mind. A certain fox surely doesn’t know about worries and the like, or he’s simply too
good at ignoring them.
What happened earlier must have let all of Dazai's restraints loose, because the fox is acting
like they've always been this close, no shame about his action whatsoever.
When Chuuya is heating up their dinner, Dazai's arms never leave his waist, the kitsune's face
keeps nuzzling into his hair as the fox hums playfully – which is dangerous, considering the
fire is right there.
...not that Chuuya says anything about it. Dazai one mentioned he wouldn’t let him get burnt,
right?
Then, when they're eating, Dazai sits close – closer than usual – and his tails are resting
around Chuuya like a circular cage of soft fur; one of them keeps stroking his back and
another one lies still on the redhead's lap. It's something Chuuya doesn't mind, he actually
quite likes it, but the stare he's getting from the Akutagawa siblings make him want to
disappear right this instant.
Ryuu is never letting him forget it. Ever.
He's going to be making fun of Chuuya's past denial every chance he gets, the redhead can
already feel it coming. Plus, he's going to combust from all the sudden displays of affection
Dazai subjects him to when they have an audience.
(Oh, but he should really get used to it.)
All in all, Dazai clearly decided he's not holding back anymore and Chuuya is almost certain
the fox's smirk stretches wider every time the redhead's blush turns a shade darker. That
teasing bastard is enjoying this a little too much, isn’t he?
Where did the nonchalant, uncaring demon go?
How can a person change this much in such a short time?
Though, despite whatever annoyed words may leave Chuuya's lips, the boy can't bring
himself to hate any of it. He isn't going to admit that he enjoys Dazai's blatant acts of
claiming him, but all of this is making the second problem louder and louder in his head with
every small touch and gesture.
Because it's thrilling to see the kitsune so openly interested in him, it's thrilling to sense that
hint of possessiveness in the way his tails never seem to leave the redhead—
But what does that make them?
They were never exactly friends, their relationship was far more complicated than that, and
now it's escalating too fast with too little explanation.
Are they... what, lovers now? Isn't that too strong of a word for how recently their emotions
found each other?
But there isn't anything else Chuuya can think of, nothing he can accept. Because if Dazai
says he's keeping the redhead as his 'beloved pet', then the fox is going to lose his fur very
fast and very painfully. Mark Chuuya’s words.
Or are they not going to name whatever it is that is going on between them?
It's not like they have to, Ryuu and Gin know all too well what happened and there isn't
anyone else they have to explain it to. Not yet. They could just... go with the flow? Let
whatever happens happen without thinking too much. But Chuuya itches to know.
There are already too many unknown variables in his life, this he really needs to know before
all the doubts come crashing down on him.
...but asking about it turns out to be quite a challenge, especially with how tight his throat is
as he's brushing Dazai's tails just a few hours after their little session in the garden.
In Dazai's bedroom.
Of course, there is nothing to be stressing over, they always do it here, there's no need for
Chuuya's heart to be acting the way it is, racing in his chest every time his mind slides him an
idea of what—
Nope. He's not thinking about it.
Not yet.
To be honest, with how frequently he's been taking care of the fox's tails, there is no need to
be actually brushing the fur every single day. Most days, Chuuya simply runs his fingers
through it, carefully untangling the knots that are only beginning to form. Just like now.
With eight of Dazai's tails around his body and one in his lap, the redhead sits quietly, facing
the fox's back and listening to the soft humming sound filling the room. He watches the tails
move closer occasionally, brushing his legs or arms, he watches the fox's ears twitch ever so
often above the dark curls crowning Dazai's head.
Chuuya has never touched his hair, but it looks soft, and it makes him want to test that
thought every now and then. He can't, obviously, that would be... weird.
Right?
But he can think about it, imagine the feeling of it between his fingers. Maybe he would even
get a chance to touch the fox ears if he tried. It's so close like this, if only he would reach out
his hand—
...oh, it really is soft.
Almost as much as Dazai's tails, and there's so much of it, Chuuya's hand almost completely
disappears in the dark hair, his fingers brushing what feels like the fur of his ears—
"Oh?" Dazai sounds intrigued, amused. "Is Chibi making a move on me?"
—oh, no.
When did his hand actually move?! Why is his body moving on its own?!
"H–huh?!" Ironically enough, Chuuya's hand doesn't retract, it seems frozen in place, right on
the back of Dazai's head. "No! I'm—I was just curious, that's all."
Looking over his shoulder with a raised brow, the fox sends him a teasing look. "Curious
about my hair?"
Well, yes.
But in a normal, not–making–a–move way.
"...yeah?" The redhead breathes out, his eyes looking between Dazai's face and his own hand,
only now realising that it's still there. "I mean..." He takes his hand back, his fingers already
missing the touch. "...it looks kind of soft and I just wanted to check if that’s really the case."
And that's all.
Right now, anyway.
"Hmm~" The kitsune's tails move away slowly as Dazai turns around to face the redhead, his
fangs peeking from behind his smirk. "Is that why my Chibi's heart has been beating so fast
all this time?"
Kind of, maybe, not exactly but—
Wait.
' His Chibi'?
The awful nickname aside… Dazai's Chibi? The fox never said it like that before and now
that he did, Chuuya's mind needs a moment. His eyes are wide, lips parted and his cheeks are
getting hotter by the minute, all because of that one, simple word. And Dazai? His grin shows
just how much satisfaction he gets out of Chuuya's reaction, which is annoying.
...and maybe, the slightest bit hot. But the boy won’t be telling him that.
"...not true." Chuuya tries to argue once his mind snaps out of it.
"But I can hear it~"
Ugh. Another annoying and utterly unfair thing about the fox that Chuuya wishes he could
forget about.
Dazai's palm cups his cheek, cold fingers soothing the heated skin as he guides the redhead
closer. "Tell me," The fox leans down, whispering the words only a few inches away from
Chuuya's lips. "If it’s not my hair, then what is making you so nervous, my Chuuya~?"
That word again. ‘ His’.
How can he be saying all of that so easily when not even a day ago—
Hold on.
Did Dazai just call him by his name? And… Chuuya didn't feel bad about it? He didn’t
flinch? His mind wasn't scared?
...did he actually like it?
Is… is that really true?
Could it be—
The fox must sense his feelings, because his eye flashes red for a second, his tails moving
enthusiastically behind him despite how the kitsune usually prefers to at least try and hide his
reactions.
"Chuuya~" He sings again, drawing it out and letting it roll on his tongue. "Did I just hear
your heart skip—"
His words are cut off by the redhead's lips when Chuuya drags him down, both hands tugging
at the dark kimono in case the fox would try to fight it. Of course, he doesn't.
"You're so fucking annoying." Chuuya says when they part. He's trying to paint his voice
with as much irritation as possible, but the constant notes of fondness and happiness ring
louder and more honest than anything the boy can pretend to be.
"If that's what I get for being annoying," Dazai says, his eye slowly looking up from
Chuuya's mouth to his blue orbs. "I'll make sure to never stop."
That's not what the redhead meant to accomplish, but the promise doesn't sound all that bad.
Not that he's going to admit that to the fox.
"But do tell me, Chibi." Dazai speaks again, straightening his back as his hand slides from
Chuuya's cheek to his wrist. "You've been spacing out a lot since earlier, and cute as it is—"
Cute?
Are they actually saying whatever comes to their minds now? Because Chuuya is not ready
to do that.
"—what is bothering you?"
Ah, yes. Communication is supposed to be important with these things, but why does it have
to be so awkward, too?
The redhead wrinkles his nose, shoulders falling slightly. "Nothing is bothering me, it's
just..."
He already has Ryuu to make fun of him, he really doesn't need Dazai to do it as well. Maybe
the answer will magically make itself clear to him even if he doesn’t ask? Maybe he doesn’t
have to embarrass himself and his own doubts after barely a few hours after… that happened.
But can he really risk weakening the connection between them before it can fully start to
grow? Can he risk losing all of it because of his own stubbornness?
Letting out a sigh, Chuuya gestures vaguely between them with his hand, not trusting himself
with using the right words. "...I've been wondering what this is."
The fox hums. "What does Chibi want this to be?" Dazai asks back, his head cocking to the
side curiously.
"..." That's not fair. "I asked first."
The kitsune chuckles at the small pout forming on the boy's face, his fingers pleasantly firm
around his waist. "Well, there are many names you can give it depending on what you want it
to be, really. I believe some humans would call us 'boyfriends'..."
Gods, why does it sound so weird when a hundreds–year–old demon is saying that?
"...or partners, which is what I personally prefer..."
Yeah, that's much better.
But the kitsune doesn't stop there. "Or..." His grin stretches, fangs showing and his eyes
turning red again. His tails come around Chuuya when Dazai leans closer again—
"I wouldn't mind calling Chuuya my bride, either."
Oh, gods. He should have never asked.
Not asking would have been much better for his heart, because what is Dazai even thinking?
It's way too soon for that – not that Chuuya is even considering that scenario, oh no, not at all
– it's barely been a few hours since they came to be this.
(But he doesn't mind the sound of it, does he?)

Anyway, the kitsune is playing dirty. Because of all of this, Chuuya can't make up his mind
whether he wants to push the fox away or pull him closer. He kind of wants to do both. At the
same time.
"Y..." Great, and now he's stuttering. "You're crazy." He groans, fighting with his own
thoughts.
"I won't deny." Dazai answers, his face still so close. "But Chibi doesn't seem to be
complaining."
Because he can barely speak when his thoughts are racing in his mind, the sole idea of calling
Dazai his husb—
"'Partners' is fine." The boy blurts out.
"Hmm~ Partners it is, then." And right before his lips catch Chuuya's, he adds: "For now~"
The redhead wants to argue, he wants to say back something, but his body chooses to melt
into the kiss instead. His eyes flutter close and he lets Dazai pull him closer until Chuuya is
straddling his legs. The kitsune has his arms and tails around the redhead while Chuuya holds
onto Dazai's kimono before he decides to be brave and one of his hands comes up to tangle in
the brown locks again.
Which makes the fox smirk into the kiss, hot breath fanning over Chuuya's skin when he
huffs, amused.
"Someone really likes my hair, hm?"
…ugh.
"Maybe." Comes the answer, though the boy can't bring himself to look the other in the eye
as he says it. "It's... nice to the touch."
Chuuya lets his hand linger there for a while, playing with Dazai's hair and making it look
even more unruly, and it makes him relax. The late hour and everything that has occurred
during the day slowly start to remind the boy’s body that it’s been a lot to take in at once.
The fox's expression softens when he sees the boy yawn, his fox ears turning to the sides. "Is
Chibi tired?"
"Yeah." A lot has happened, Chuuya's mind is exhausted – in a good sense, but still
exhausted – and his eyelids feel so heavy all of a sudden.
Dazai considers him for a while, his hands rubbing gentle circles on his back. Then, he says
something that’s both so like him and so weird when coming from a demon that weaves tricks
and teases instead of, well, blatant honesty and being straightforward.
"Would you like to stay here for the night?"
If the fox wanted to stir him awake, then it worked because—

"H–huh?"
—Chuuya was not prepared to hear something like that, he isn't ready to be thinking about
that so soon, not when his mind already has enough to think about as it is now. He’s not
opposed, hell, he certainly would like to, but…
"Relax, Chibi." Dazai's voice is soothing, almost like a low purr. "I'm asking if you'd like to
sleep here tonight. Just sleep."
Oh, of course.
That's exactly what Chuuya was thinking about.
"I don't use it often but I do have a futon, too." Then, the kitsune shrugs. "Only if you want
to, though."
…well, it's not like Dazai hasn't watched him sleep before, right?
Only, it turns out that the kitsune isn't going to just watch him sleep – Dazai is with him in the
futon, hugging Chuuya to his chest and running his fingers through the red hair. Which isn't
bad, no. It feels great, actually, but...
How is Chuuya supposed to get any sleep like this?
They've taken so many steps in the span of just a few hours and the universe expects him to
fall asleep when his... his partner's arms are around him after months of not realising he can
genuinely and openly like the fox?
"Chibi is still nervous~" The kitsune murmurs into his hair, playful but gentle. "It's okay, I
promise.”
It's funny, really, how Chuuya's heart doesn't listen to his own mind when it allows Dazai's
words to reach it so easily, accepting him like it was always meant to do just that. Like he
was always meant to trust what the kitsune says.
“Just rest for now."
In the end, the redhead is lulled to sleep by the fox's soft humming, and while his nights are
still dreamless, just like they've always been, they're warm now. Warmer than ever before.
Because Chuuya knows that he will wake up to Dazai holding him close, he will wake up
next to his partner for the first time.
One of many more to come.
—
The idea of letting himself drift to sleep with Chuuya in his arms is tempting, a possibility
Dazai has never considered before, but he won’t do that. Not yet. Not today, even.
In the past, he would sometimes spend the nights watching the boy sleep whenever he was
allowed to, but this is different. This is the first time the redhead falls asleep with a smile on
his face in Dazai’s embrace, the first time the fox can run his fingers through the silky hair
and kiss the long strands while the boy’s soft breathing fans over his chest.
What a strange day it was.
How satisfying.
Finally, everything seems to be fitting in place. The whispers in his head fade away, the
conflicting emotions soothe into one warm feeling filling the fox’s heart, and every thought
finally makes sense. To want to touch Chuuya, to want to kiss and hold him, to want to see
him smile and blush and hear him stutter over words when he’s embarrassed—
Such simple desires.
And Dazai has been suppressing them for far too long.
It’s almost laughable, how much he has tried to convince himself these feelings weren’t there,
and it’s sickening to think he would have continued to do so if he wasn’t given this one push.
He would have let the redhead slip from his hands again, he would have let the distance
between them feel so cold for much longer when it didn’t have to.
Now, after having a taste of what it feels like to have Chuuya close, to kiss him and to let the
words freely slip past his lips – Dazai doesn't want to go back to how cold it felt before. How
empty.
Being so open, with both his words and gestures, isn’t in Dazai’s nature. He understands why
Chuuya and the Akutagawa siblings were so surprised about the sudden change in his
behaviour, but he doesn’t mind.
Chuuya is his – why try to hide it?
Why continue to hold himself back after months of doing just that? After longing for
something Dazai didn’t realise he had been missing?
Why hold himself back when he doesn't have to anymore?
The redhead was surprised, sure, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the boy seemed to
be leaning into the touch, searching for it from the corners of his eyes, consciously or not.
And if Chuuya likes the attention, the display of how much Dazai isn't willing to let him go—
Isn’t that encouragement enough?
The boy stirs in his sleep, pressing closer and letting out a satisfied sigh when Dazai kisses
the top of his head, bringing his tails to cover Chuuya over the comforter. Truly the most
adorable human, the most beautiful one and—
His.
His little human. His Chuuya.
And, in the future, maybe it will be his…
Ah, Kouyou won’t let him forget about her help, will she?
Chapter End Notes
A bit late because it was a long chapter and I was busy buuuuuuuuuuut~~~
GUESS WHO'S NOT EMOTIONALLY DUMB ANYMORE??? Now that they're not
lying to themselves, things will go down fast (more or less), so look forward to more
fluff + smut finally arriving upon us!
And yes, there was something special about that tree. Yes, Kouyou will explain the next
time she shows up :3
ALSO YES, CHUUYA IS OKAY WITH DAZAI CALLING HIM BY HIS NAME
NOW AND I WANT TO CRY
Another also: if you feel the need to hate on how I had Dazai use the word 'bride', don't
waste your time, or mine. I just like that word, it doesn't have any other meaning other
than that Dazai is being a tease about them getting married maybe one day to make
Chuuya blush. It's just a word, it has NOTHING to do with the kind of
person/characterisation Chuuya has, or will have, in this story, and I will NOT engage in
that discussion.
A Checklist
Chapter Notes
As Chuuya wakes up, warm sunlight falling on his face through the open window, his mind
slowly starts to remember some important facts about what happened the day before. Such as
the kiss, such as the conversation that followed later on, and also—
Such as the fact that he fell asleep in Dazai’s futon, in the kitsune’s arms that are still around
him even now.
Right. Right.
That happened.
Chuuya must have moved at some point during the night because the kitsune is now hugging
him from behind, his back pressed to Dazai’s chest. Their legs are tangled together under the
comforter and some of the tails, and the redhead can feel the fox’s breath in his hair – warm
and gentle, ghosting over his scalp in a slow rhythm as—
“Chibi finally woke up~”
His life and all those sensitive kitsune senses are truly unfair. Chuuya is yet to move, he
hasn’t even opened his eyes yet, and Dazai still manages to notice the smallest changes in his
body. Not. Fair.
“How can you be so annoying this early in the morning?” Chuuya sighs, not actually sure
what time it is, but he doesn’t push Dazai away. Instead, the boy rolls his eyes for no one to
see and lets the fox nuzzle into his hair shamelessly. In all honesty, he didn’t expect Dazai to
be this clingy – he’s all about calling himself a demon, after all – but now that Chuuya sees
and feels it…
Somehow, it fits him.
Because behind the veil of a cold–blooded and powerful kitsune that doesn’t need anyone
and anything, Dazia has always been intent on getting on Chuuya’s nerves. He likes the
attention, likes drawing all sorts of reactions out of the boy and, above all, is shameless in his
actions.
So yes.
It does fit him.
“Chibi doesn’t seem to mind it, though.” Dazai murmurs, his lips brushing the redhead scalp.
“Besides…” He plants a kiss behind Chuuya’s ear and the boy shivers, his senses waking up
more and more with every word whispered into his skin. “...I said I would never stop, didn’t
I?”
That’s… true.
But the redhead still isn’t sure whether he appreciates the promise or not – whether he
appreciates the satisfaction that paints everything Dazai says – and he can’t really focus on
thinking about it while the fox insists on acting… like that. It’s too good of a distraction, too
new of an experience to brush off lightly and go about his days. The kitsune’s arms around
Chuuya’s middle and the soft kisses he trails on the top of his head are very good at diverting
Chuuya;s thoughts. Not to mention this weird, low sound continuously ringing through the
air and Chuuya’s body, keeping the boy half-lulled and half–curious.
It’s weird, but… in a good way? It’s soothing and oddly comforting.
But what is it?
It’s not that loud, not enough to be a nuisance, but it’s also too clear in Chuuya’s ears to be
ignored or to be coming from the outside, and if he really focuses on, if the boy tries to
pinpoint where it’s coming from, he can—
“Dazai.”
But it can’t be that, can it? Can it?
“Are… are you purring?”
There is so answer, only a smile pressed to Chuuya’s head and the sound getting louder…
Oh.
Oh, gods.
Chuuya didn’t even know foxes can purr at all and now he’s learning that kitsunes do it, too?
And that it’s one of the most comforting sounds he has ever heard? But doesn’t that usually
happen when cats – well, foxes in this case – are happy? When they feel safe and content?
Does that mean…?
That Dazai…?
Squeezing his eyes shut, Chuuya hides his face and the blush growing on it in the pillow. It’s
too early for this, way too early. “You’re impossible.” He mumbles, but Dazai only hums in
response, satisfied, his purring still vibrating between them.
They stay like this for a while before the redhead finally decides he shouldn’t be spending the
whole day in bed, no matter how nice it may be and how much he enjoys the silent affection
he’s finally getting after unconsciously craving it for so long. Fortunately, the fox still has
some rationality left in his head and Chuuya doesn’t have to fight him in order to at least
bathe by himself. Not that Dazai didn’t try to trick him into getting in together, because of
course he did.
Too bad Chuuya isn’t falling for that so soon, even with his brain still only starting to come
out of the morning sluggishness.
Their daily routine isn’t that much different from before either, save for Dazai’s clinginess.
Chuuya takes care of the things around the garden and the house to keep himself busy while
bickering with the kitsune and threatening to cut his tails off if he ever does something funny
to his flowers.
(He would never, but let the fox be warned. Just in case.)
The sakura tree looks as breathtaking as it did yesterday, its crown in full bloom and the
delicate petals blanketing the ground. Chuuya is grateful that it actually is the season for
cherry blossom now, meaning the flowers should last for at least a week, if not longer. Of
course, he isn’t spared the knowing looks Ryuu and Gin are sending him, but with Dazai
constantly around him, the boy can hold onto his dignity for at least a while longer before the
unavoidable conversation with the Akutagawa siblings happens. He can trick his own mind
and pretend not to think about it, even if he knows there is no way they would let it go.
There’s also a lot the redhead learns as the day carries on, about Dazai and about just how
shameless the fox is when it comes to showing off his affection, and…
Well, Chuuya also learns some things about himself.
Or rather, about the wants and needs he never knew he had.
Chuuya has always been content with watching others' happiness, he would never ask for
more than life was willing to give him. Plus, he was also never in a relationship before, as his
mind so helpfully reminds him of. He spent his early teenage years at a shrine, surrounded by
monks and priests, and when he came back to the village… It’s not like there wasn’t anyone
willing, it’s just that Chuuya didn’t feel the need to complicate his life with romance. There
wasn’t anyone he liked in that way and he didn’t travel much to meet new people, he enjoyed
his life just the way it was – peaceful and single.
However, he wasn’t blind to how much brighter people around him would become when their
significant other was around. How the air surrounding them would become lighter and how
their faces would glow with joy at the simplest of touches. Such a sight would always bring a
smile to the redhead’s lips, but Chuuya never knew he would one day want it for himself.
He felt at ease around his friends and family, he was fine with witnessing love blooming
around him without being a part of it. Sure, there may have been faint urges here or there,
especially when he was going through puberty, but they weren’t enough to push him forward
and seek to experience it for himself.
But now, with Dazai, he’s learning to understand how it feels to wish for that one person to
stay close.
There’s no need for him to seek contact, Dazai is staying as close as possible, personal space
be damned, his tails lingering on Chuuya at all times. If the redhead allowed it, he’s pretty
sure the fox would spend the entire day kissing him, never letting the boy so much as step a
foot away, so getting to experience this new type of closeness isn’t not a problem. Some
would probably say they’re progressing too fast and maybe they are, but Chuuya doesn’t
care. He likes it.
But there is this one thing that his mind keeps coming back to:
Dazai’s arms are always either around Chuuya’s waist, which isn’t anything bad, or they’re
out of sight. Completely.
The fox is used to walking around with his hands hidden in the sleeves of his kimono in front
of him, and it has never bothered the redhead… until now. Because it means there is one
thing he can’t try, something his mind suddenly decided to want to try.
In the village, people would rarely show their affection openly in public, but it wasn’t that
unusual to see couples walking around side by side, and it always seemed nice, like they were
content with that one, small gesture. Something so simple, yet grand – easy to go unnoticed
but impossible to ignore. Something Chuuya has never done before, not with someone who
wasn’t his dad or uncle.
Which is why, as they’re walking through the forest to that one spot where the flowers
Chuuya has never seen bloom (according to Dazai), the redhead keeps glancing at the fox, his
fingers itching. The fox stays close, his tails even closer—
But his hands are so fucking far.
And Chuuya is not going to ask for it. No way.
He knows it’s irrational to be thinking this way. They’ve been together for less than 24h and
they’ve already kissed plenty of times during that period, simple hand–holding shouldn’t be
anything special – but it is. It’s a gesture Chuuya has never experienced, not with his partner,
and his whole body itches to try it, even if no one is here to witness them being together, but
he refuses to ask for it.
If Dazai’s hand was freely hanging at his side, he’d just… grab it, probably. But when it’s
like this, when he would have to explain what and why he meant… it’s impossible.
The kitsune either isn’t aware of that custom, or he simply doesn’t like it, because he doesn’t
reach out for Chuuya’s hand himself, despite how clingy he was before. It leaves the redhead
somewhat frustrated, probably more than he’d like to admit, and a bit annoyed.
He isn’t asking for too much, right?
Chuuya simply wants to hold hands with his partner, with Dazai.
With Dazai who doesn’t seem to have a problem with physical contact in the slightest.
He wants to know how it feels, even if only for a moment. Hugs are nice, kisses even nicer,
but this is the only thing the redhead has seen around himself so many times and now that he
finally has someone to try with—
“Is Chibi tired already?”
—with someone who keeps their hands hidden in the stupid kimono and away from Chuuya.
“Should I carry you the rest of the way~?”
Plus, that someone loves to spout nonsense such as this. No, Chuuya doesn’t want to be
carried, not now, he wants something much simpler than that. Is the kitsune doing this on
purpose? Or is he genuinely unaware?
“I’m fine.” The boy huffs, a pout involuntarily forming on his face. “I’m not tired.”
Dazai looks at him, his ears slightly lowered as if he’s disappointed about Chuuya’s answer,
but his tails keep rubbing the redhead’s back and arms, and his smirk never wavers.
“But you’re so quiet.” He says, a hint of tease in his voice. “Chibi is always loud, so it’s
suspicious—”
“I’m loud because you’re insufferable.”
“—and you’re pouting, too.”
Ugh. He doesn’t mean to. “I’m not.”
“Chuuya~” Dazai moves in front of him, making the redhead stop in his tracks if he doesn’t
want to bump into the other. “What’s wrong?” The fox sounds more curious than worried, his
ears perked up and one eye staring right into the blue ones.
Looking to the side to avoid the piercing gaze, the redhead crosses his arms over his chest,
trying to sound uninterested. “Nothing.” He refuses to ask, he has already done plenty of
asking yesterday. Enough.
Who cares it was just once? With Dazai, one ‘please’ is enough to cause a headache in the
future.
The kitsune, however, doesn’t seem convinced. If anything, he seems like he has just got an
amazing idea, one that will surely play on the strings of Chuuya’s nerves, because the boy
knows that playful tone to the fox’s humming. He knows it well. Now, it’s only a matter of
how annoying he’s going to be about it—
“If you don’t tell me…” The fox chirps, unbothered by Chuuya’s stubbornness. “I’ll kiss
you.”
…huh?
Wait, no, hold on—
“Wh—?!”
“And then again and again if you still refuse to share~”

With his cheeks heating up, the boy looks back at Dazai only to see how satisfied with
himself the fox is, playful sparkles dancing in his dark eye, a red glint flashing in the sun. A
picture of a true nuisance, of a true and insane demon.
“What kind of threat is this?!”
Dazai’s smirk stretches. “A pleasant one.”
Well, yes. But that’s not the point.
“Since when are threats supposed to be pleasant, stupid fox?”
“Since I decided to enjoy the time with my partner to the fullest.” Dazai answers, completely
unfazed by his own words, the same words that make Chuuya choke on his breath. Getting
used to physical contact is nothing compared to getting used to hearing the kitsune say all of
that.
Thinking about the kitsune as ‘his partner’ is one thing, but hearing him say it is a whole new
experience. Especially since, again, it hasn’t even been a day.
“Plus,” The fox continues. “Chibi wanted to get there while the Sun is still up, so keeping
him away until he tells the truth is a valid strategy.”
Ah, Dazai is simply insane, isn’t he?
Who on Earth would have ever thought of it like that?!
“The sunset is hours away, shitty fox.”
His tails sway dangerously behind him, red shining brightly for a second and his fangs
flashing from behind his lips. “That won’t be a problem for me, Chuuya~”
Excuse him, but what?
Blue eyes widen at the realisation, at the implication behind Dazai’s statement, and Chuuya
can feel his head starting to spin, which is something he doesn’t need right now. He was only
hoping to hold hands for the first time, not to be kissed to death in the middle of the forest.
“You wouldn’t—”
“Let me ask again, then~” Dazai steps closer, leaning slightly down, and oh he absolutely
would. “What is troubling my Chibi’s pretty head, hm?”
The problem is: a part of Chuuya believes the fox will go through with his promise. He
wouldn’t admit it out loud, especially not to Dazai, but he knows, and it’s not that he would
mind it but…
Again, there is something else that he wants. Plus, he does wish to see the flowers before
sunset as well.
Which brings up another question: how does he make it known without actually saying it?
Dazai’s hands are still in his sleeves and his gaze is making it impossible to hold back the
blush painting Chuuya’s cheeks, to keep his heartbeat – something the fox can hear, for fucks
sake – normal. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to look away because the kitsune is holding
his gaze hostage.
It’s a trap.
A very tempting one, but a trap nonetheless.
It’s not like Chuuya thinks it’s such a big deal, shutting Dazai up with a kiss before all of this
was much more straightforward than holding his hand with no one around to see it. This is
simply more embarrassing for some unknown reason. Maybe it’s because he has to explicitly
ask for it, or maybe it’s because Chuuya is the one to reach out first this time, not Dazai.
The kitsune is patient, he doesn’t move closer or push the redhead, he’s silently waiting for
an answer: an actual answer, or a reason to bridge the space between them, whichever
Chuuya will give him. In this position, his arms are closer than before, easier to reach even if
still hidden away behind the silky material.
Breaking eye–contact takes a lot of effort, but the redhead will not be able to go through with
it while staring into the red jewel shining with satisfaction, so he forces his head to turn, lips
pressed into a thin line. His heart races in his chest – ugh – when his hand moves and—
Because he isn’t looking, Chuuya can’t see how confused Dazai is when his hand tugs at the
sleeve of his kimono. It’s gentle, with barely any force behind it, and the kitsune is already
opening his mouth to ask what this is about when Chuuya tugs at his clothes again, a tiny bit
stronger this time and with an hot blush spreading to his ears and neck—
Oh.
Oh.
Maybe it’s a good thing the redhead can’t see his expression, because Dazai is not holding
back his amusement, and enjoyment of the whole situation, from showing. His ears shoot up,
twitching enthusiastically, his grin looks almost dangerous and his eye is bright. Behind him,
his tails stopped swaying to the sides and are now slowly moving towards Chuuya.
Towards his so, so adorable Chibi.
Silently, Dazai lets his arms unfold and his hand moves down, just as the redhead is pulling at
his sleeve with his slightly trembling fingers. The fox watches with fascination how Chuuya
reaches for his hand – never actually looking at him, of course – shyly. He slides his fingers
between Dazai’s and closes his hold, dropping their intertwined hands to hang between their
bodies—
“...it.” With his head still turned to the side, Chuuya mumbles under his breath. “That’s it…”
—and, oh, how much Dazai wants to kiss him just for that one gesture.
It’s not like he can’t do it, he never said he wouldn’t kiss the boy anyway even if he
answered, but the redhead looks like just this simple act was enough to have him almost as
flustered as when the fox asked him to stay the night in his room. Which is a bit surprising –
because how can the two even compare? – but not unpleasant.
To be honest, Dazai did forget this is something human couples do. It’s not that common
around yōkai, but if the boy wants to, then he’s more than happy to oblige. His grin softens
into a genuine smile, one that Chuuya would love if only he glanced back at the fox. Which
he doesn’t do, but, oh well, he’ll see it another time. Many other times.
For now, Dazai settles on a kiss to the side of Chuuya’s head, his lips lingering there as he
inhales the other’s scent and listens to how fast his heart beats.
“Good Chibi.” He murmurs, chuckling at how the redhead’s heart skipped a beat at his words
and making sure to remember that small detail for later. Just for reference, of course. “I’ll
keep it in mind from now on.”
And maybe Chuuya should say something back, fight for his pride instead of letting the fox
enjoy it this much, but… Well, feeling Dazai’s hand holding onto his is all he thinks about
right now. Because it’s exactly like he imagined, exactly as warm, as soft and nice and—
How can he argue with the kitsune when he can’t stop smiling?
When he’s sure his eyes are shining not with anger but with joy?
Chuuya doesn’t dare look up, but as they continue their walk, his eyes glance at their hands
every now and then, his lips curling up every time. And he doesn’t let go. Not now, not when
they get to their destination, not on their way back. He’s savouring this feeling, this gesture
that he knows will happen many times in the future, but this is the first time and he doesn’t
want it to end. Not yet.
And maybe one day he’ll let Dazai carry him around, too.
(Maybe more than once~)
Of course, it was inevitable.
For a week, Dazai's constant presence around him kept the redhead safe from this
conversation. For a week, the fox was always near, never letting the boy out of his sight for
long enough for anyone to come close and utter a single word. However, Chuuya is only a
man and, as much as he enjoys what they now have, he also likes to take a breath once in a
while, at least for a moment.
Which is why he's now sitting under the sakura tree, no kitsune anywhere in sight, only the
spring air around him, sunlight on his face—
"Care for some tea?"
—and the urge to bury himself alive just to avoid what's been waiting for him for days.
A grimace twists his face before Chuuya cracks one eye open, looking up at the two very
satisfied with themselves siblings standing over him. Gin has a wide smile stretching on her
face and amused sparkles dancing in the dark orbs, her hands are behind her back and, even if
her wolf features are hidden, the redhead can imagine the girl's tail wagging behind her. But
that's not the worst part.
The worst part is how Ryuu – yes, the ever stoic and collected Ryuu – has a similar
expression on his normally neutral face. His grin, though well tamed, is much sharper than
usual, making the boy look as if he actually knows how to show emotions. Which, let’s be
honest, isn't true most of the time. And his eyes are mocking every inch of Chuuya's being
right now, victory written all over them and ringing in his voice, even if he hasn't said
anything specific just yet.
If his tail was out, Chuuya knows it would be acting similar to how Dazai's tails sway when
the fox is satisfied with his annoying acts, slowly moving behind his back without any quick
swings, high in the air. Dazai's and Ryuu's characters aren't that similar, but when it comes to
proving they're right? Chuuya can clearly see the influence the fox had on his mentee. They
both take their victory quietly, with glowing eyes and a playful hint in their voices, they're
both irritating like that.
"...sure."
And the fact that, this time, Chuuya actually deserves it is making everything ten times
worse. He knows what's waiting for him, the question is: will they say it or will they make
him admit it?
The Akutagawas sit down on the grass next to the redhead, a tray with a teapot and three cups
carefully placed between them.
"You know, the situation is very pleasant on the eyes." Ryuu says casually, and Chuuya's
cheeks are already starting to darken, mouth opening to say anything to save his dignity—
"About the tree, I mean. It's beautiful."
—ah, of course. It's not like he has any dignity left.
Gin hands him a cup with the hot drink inside, her smirk never fading as he chuckles quietly
to herself.
"..." Chuuya looks between the two, then to the side, bringing the cup to his lips. "It is..."
But the way the Akutagawas are playing is dirty. "We've taken to watching it ever since it
appeared, it was… interesting."
Oh, gods.
"Watch it by ourselves, of course, because you've been quite busy recently."
Oh, gods.
"Not that we mind, but who would have ever thought—"
"Okay, okay! I get it!" Chuuya groans, his face practically on fire when he covers it with his
hand. "Just get to the 'I told you so' part and spare me the rest, I beg you."
Ryuu's expression doesn't change that much, only the corners of his mouth twitching. "Well,
it's not like we have much proof—"
"You were right, okay!" The redhead knows he deserves it, but he still wants to disappear.
"You were right, I was in denial. Congratulations." Someone save him, please.
Gin's shoulders start to shake as she's trying to muffle her laughter. Even Ryuu snorts at the
blatant confession painted with a hint of desperation, but at least he seems to accept it
without pushing any more.
"I think it should be us congratulating you, though." The wolf says, softer than before, even if
the tease never fully leaves his words. "That situation is also quite nice to watc—"
"Ughh—!"
Do they want him dead, or what? What is this torture?
"It's not my fault that fox has no shame around others!" Or when they're alone. Or anytime,
for that matter. Now that Chuuya thinks about it, maybe it's better the Akutagawas are the
only people around here, because he's pretty sure he would die from the kitsune's shameless
acts in public. Dazai doesn't seem to care about the others, not when he has Chuuya close, but
the redhead does.
For now, at least.
His words draw a small chuckle from the other boy, his sister only raising a brow teasingly
but never saying anything. "Believe me, Chuuya." Ryuu says. "We know."
Great.
Just great.
"We don't really mind." The boy shrugs, glancing at his sister briefly. "As long as you're
happy and at least a little bit mindful..."
Chuuya is mindful, someone else isn't.

But, no matter how embarrassed he may feel about all of this in front of his friends, the
redhead is happy – about his relationship with Dazai, about his friends' support and how they
didn’t start treating him any differently after what’s happened.
"Tell that to your 'Dazai–sama'." Chuuya huffs, rolling his eyes.
"I value my life." Ryuu replies, shaking his head and taking a sip of his drink. "And sanity,
too. So I'll pass, thank you."
Fair. Dazai wouldn't listen to him anyway, the fox would probably act even more clingy if he
heard any of that.
All of them laugh at Ryuu's comment, a familiar sense of easiness washing over Chuuya. He
likes spending time with the kitsune, but he also likes these casual conversations when the
fox isn't around, they give him this balance, letting him stay sane. He appreciates his friends'
understanding, even if he has to bear with all the teasing that will surely not go away anytime
soon – what he isn't expecting, though, is for Gin to speak up…
"When is the wedding?"
Chuuya starts coughing, on air or his drink, or his thoughts. On all of it.
Why is everyone going straight to that conclusion? First, it was Dazai with the whole 'bride'
thing and now Gin, too? Ryuu also seems to be interested, silently watching the redhead to
catch his breath again with a somewhat waiting expression.
"I— what the fuck?" He puts down his cup, not trusting himself with anything hot when his
whole body seems to be shaking. "Why is that the first thing you ask?!" There are surely
other things the siblings could ask about, like... like literally anything else.
Ryuu shrugs. "Isn't that a valid question, though?"
"It's been a week. " Chuuya immediately says back, unsure of how he feels about the blush
blooming on his face. "It's not a valid question when we haven't even—"
Oh, he is not finishing that thought. Not out loud.
Clearing his throat, the redhead glares at the girl giggling into her sleeve. "Anyway.” He isn’t
going to think about himself for now, but since Gin has already mentioned it… “Is it a thing
for yōkai to just..." He gestures vaguely with his hand. "...get there right away?"
The wedding, of course. Not the other thing.
It wouldn't be more surprising than the fact that demons exist in the first place, who knows
what weird customs are common among them, but Chuuya is a human and he's not going to
be thinking about getting married anytime soon.
(Or will he?)

It’s just surprising and bit too much of a coincidence that he’s getting asked about it so often
so soon.
"Not really." Ryuu answers with a sigh. "Weddings are actually very uncommon among our
kind."
That lights a sparkle of curiosity in the redhead. Not because he's considering it, but because
humans always seem eager about such grand celebrations. When it's the time for it, usually
more than a week after getting together.
"Why?"
"Because they're binding."
Well, that's what weddings are for, aren’t they? But something tells Chuuya it isn't as simple
of a matter as human ceremonies are. “Like a spell or something?"
"It's not a spell, but..." Ryuu's brows furrow, like he's thinking of a way to put it into simple
words."...a true yōkai wedding is performed by a god—"
Oh, okay.
That is quite different from what Chuuya is used to.
“—and it involves permanently binding the souls together."
Ah, yes. Even more different.
Who would have thought, huh?
Putting it like that, Chuuya can see why it wouldn't be a common custom, even if two
demons are in love, or claim to be. It sounds like a life commitment – because it is – and if
most of them live for hundreds of years... well, it probably gets complicated at some point.
Which means he will most likely not have to worry about that, 'binding soul' sounds tricky
enough and since Chuuya is a human…
Would it even work with him?
Would Dazai even want to do it?
...but, again, that's for the future Chuuya to think about.
"There are no 'yōkai divorces' then, I suppose?"
With a snort, Ryuu shakes his head. "Some have tried, but... it always ends bad and never
actually works anyway."
A part of Chuuya is curious about what the demon considers as 'bad', but maybe it's better if
he doesn't ask. Sometimes, not knowing is a blessing, especially among demons.
"So… you two want me to sell my soul to that shitty fox, huh?" If it's a joke, of course. The
redhead doesn't mind talking about the possibility of that happening in their future, an idle
talk right now. "There are easier ways to tell me you hate me, you know?"
"Not 'sell'." Ryuu teases back. "You'd do it for free."
"Oh, wow. Even better."
"And if we hated you, we wouldn't be telling you about yōkai weddings, but about how we
saw Dazai–sama and you makin—"
"Stop it right there!"
Another wave of laughter mixed with Chuuya's awkward groans gets carried away by the
wind.
The three of them sit under the sakura three for a while after the tea is gone, they admire the
ocean of flowers gently dancing above their heads, talk about something less embarrassing,
like visiting Kouyou to thank her for the gift. Ryuu also lets his familiar out at some point
and they all watch as the small, black–smoke wolf plays with the fallen petals.
The kitsune never joins them; Chuuya isn't even sure if Dazai is anywhere near. He did ask
the fox to give him some space today, so the other is likely waiting for a sign that it's okay, or
for Chuuya to come to him.
Which is exactly the case later in the evening, after the redhead has already taken a bath.
Ever since Dazai first asked him to stay, Chuuya has spent every single night in the fox's
bedroom. They didn't talk about it, or about how the redhead's clothes and books somehow
migrated from his old room as well, it just happened. A natural progression of things, as
some call it. A very rapid one, but they've already been living together for months, it's not
that strange to make everything go a little faster than it usually would in normal
circumstances.
So, with the droplets of water still falling from his damp hair, Chuuya walks past his old
door, heading to where he knows Dazai is waiting for him, just like he does every night. It's a
routine: brushing the fox's tails, taking a bath, coming back to find the kitsune sitting by their
futon or lying on it, waiting for Chuuya to join him.
Today, however, while enjoying the time he had to himself, the redhead may have lost track
of time and got a little tired before nightfall came, resulting in him bathing earlier. Dazai's
tails will be fine for one evening, he probably hasn't moved much today anyway, so there
shouldn’t be any new tangles. Although… he may whine about it just to have an excuse to
wrap himself around Chuuya, not that he needs an excuse.
Getting to their room doesn't take long. Yawning, the redhead slides the door open only to be
greeted with the sight of his partner lying on the bed with his eyes closed, but most certainly
not sleeping.
"You did not stay like this the whole day, did you?" Is the first thing he says.
Dazai's lips curl up, a small smile forming on his face as his eye slowly flutters open. "If
Chibi had stayed with me, he would have known the answer to that~"
Ah, so the whining has started.
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya ignores the hot stare he can feel on himself. They haven't done
more than kissing and cuddling for the past week, but Dazai isn't the one to conceal his...
fascination with his partner. Especially not when it's late and they're alone, and CHuuya has
just taken a bath.
He hasn't done anything about it, not yet, but his eye – always red at times like these – lingers
on the boy's exposed skin with a burning intensity that makes it hard for Chuuya to keep his
heart rate under control. On his neck, collarbones, on his legs as he walks closer to sit on the
futon and let the kitsune's tails stroke his thighs lazily – everywhere.
It’s not unpleasant, not even the tiniest bit unwelcome, but it is making the redhead wonder…
Why hasn’t Dazai done anything?
He clearly wants to, and Chuuya isn’t opposed to it, even if he doesn’t have any experience
with others to brag about.
"Stop whining." The boy says, running his fingers through his hair to untangle it after
washing. "Or I'll sleep somewhere else."
He won't. He doesn't want to, but a good threat is always welcome between the two of them.
It’s always enjoyable to let the fox know Chuuya could deny him anytime he wanted to.
Dazai hums in response, turning to lie on his side, his head resting on his hand as the red
jewel watches a drop of water slide down Chuuya's neck and disappear under his kimono. "I
won't like that." He muses. "Sleeping with Chuuya feels too good to let him go even for one
night."
And being hot after a bath feels like the perfect excuse as to why Chuuya’s face is heating up.
Stupid fox and his shameless comments.
(Chuuya loves them.)
"And sleeping with you is like drowning in fur." The redhead replies, trying to sound
annoyed, but failing miserably with how the corners of his lips curl up at the image of
sleeping while surrounded with Dazai’s tails.
"I thought Chibi liked my fluf—"
"Finish that word and I'm out of here."
Why is the fox so insistent on reminding Chuuya about that one fucking time he let this word
slip out? It was ages ago, can't they just let it go, please?
Dazai's chuckle only deepens the boy's pout, but it's soon soothed away by cold fingers
caressing his cheek and tucking a loose strand of wet hair behind his ear. "Chuuya smells
nice." Dazai's voice is low, but it rings loud in the boy's heart. The redhead blames his tired
body for making him lean into the touch, closing his eyes as the fox cups his cheek.
"You're weird." Is what he always says to that. "Really, really weird. You know that?"
"Maybe~"
Letting out a sigh at the answer, Chuuya moves to lie down with his back to the fox to show
how much he doesn't appreciate his strange compliments.
(He does.)
"Good night." He says, shutting his eyes despite knowing the conversation won't be cut off
this easily, not when—
"What about my goodnight kiss~?"
—of course, he would complain about it.
It's not enough that Dazai's arms are already around Chuuya's middle, pulling him closer
against the other's chest. The kitsune must get that kiss, every evening and every morning, or
he’ll threaten to whine for the whole night.
"Whining foxes don't get any." But Chuuya can also be stubborn, even if the redhead himself
kind of likes that small habit they’ve picked up on.
"Chibi is being cruel again." Dazai huffed a laugh into the wet hair before his lips plant a kiss
on the back of Chuuya's head. "But I'll give him his kiss anyway."
No answer is spared at that, but the boy doesn't stop the kitsune from nuzzling into his hair
and slowly kissing his scalp. It’s amazing how Dazai can switch from being the most
annoying demon in the world to the most clingy and sweet partner the redhead can imagine
having. And the fact that both of these characters suit him this much can be quite disturbing
with how intriguing it is to witness.
Good thing Chuuya doesn’t mind.
Good thing he has learnt to enjoy it.
The fox is still trailing kisses on his head when the boy speaks up lazily. “You should learn to
hold back a little when there are others around.” His words should be firm and commanding,
but they come out more as soft sighs instead.
“Does Chibi not like it when I kiss him?”
Not fair.
“...I do.” The kitsune will likely be reminding him of these words for a long time, but it’s too
late to be arguing, one truth won’t hurt. “But I would also like for Ryuu and Gin to keep their
sanity.” Something that is in great danger when this shameless fox is around.
Dazai’s tails stir behind him, his smile growing wider outside of Chuuya’s sight, but the
redhead can feel the other’s breath fanning over his skin when the kitsune’s mouth moves
lower.
“So…” His lips brush the skin behind Chuuya’s ear, sending a small shiver down the boy’s
spine. “...it’s not a problem when we’re alone, right?” There’s a hint of intent in his voice, a
hint that isn’t anything new per se, but it has never been so clear.
Unconsciously, Chuuya tilts his head back, stretching his neck as the kitsune starts kissing
him there, from behind his ear and then lower, lower…
It’s soft and slow, just lips brushing his skin, lingering there before moving down again, but it
feels like they leave a burning trail behind. Chuuya’s eyes flutter open, the sight of a faraway
wall the only image they can see in his position, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he can feel
Dazai this close and—
“You’re more clingy than usual.”
A chuckle. “Is that a bad thing?” A very good question, but with no answer. “Does Chuuya
want me to stop?”
Gods, no.
“I never said that.” He isn’t sure how far the kitsune intends to go, but it feels too good to
stop him. Faint tiredness still lingers in his body, but the sleepiness has already faded from
Chuuya’s mind.
Dazai’s low humming answers him, a smirk pressed to his pulse point before the fox brings
his mouth back to Chuuya’s ear, murmuring right into it. “Do you want me to continue,
then?”
One of his hands moves up from the redhead’s waist, along the hem of his kimono until it,
oh, so slowly finds Chuuya’s skin, fingers sliding underneath the material covering his chest.
“Does Chuuya want me to make him feel good?”
If the fingers tracing his skin weren’t enough to make him melt, Dazai’s question does
exactly that. Or maybe it set him on fire instead, violent and all–consuming. His heartbeat –
that the fox can both hear and feel, like this – should be enough of an answer, but Chuuya
still turns his head, eyes locking with a brightly shining red jewel as he whispers—
“Kiss me.”
—and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

With a hungry grin, Dazai leans closer, locking their lips together in a kiss that is anything
but chaste. It’s slow but deep, Dazai’s tongue dancing with Chuuya’s, his fangs ghosting over
the soft flesh of his lips. At the same time, the kitsune maps Chuuya’s chest, his collarbones,
the column of his neck with his fingers, sharp nails teasing the delicate skin. His hand circles
the redhead’s throat briefly before sliding down, pushing his clothes away and exposing the
skin of his shoulder and chest.
When Dazai’s lips leave Chuuya, the boy doesn’t have the time to think about how he wants
them back, because the fox kisses his jaw, his neck—
There’s nothing of the previous innocence left.
These kisses aren’t gentle tickles, they are claiming him with dark red blooming everywhere
the fox wishes to leave his marks.
Chuuya’s eyes are half–lidded, looking at the ceiling or the walls through the haze of need
clouding his vision. He exhales a soft sigh when Dazai sucks on his pulse point, a surprised,
but full of pleasure, whine escaping him when the kitsune bites his shoulder. Not enough to
break the skin, but enough for Chuuya to feel the fangs imprinting themselves on his body.
While Dazai is focused on kissing and painting Chuuya’s shoulder and back with dark marks,
his hands explore the redhead’s body – one caressing his chest, his stomach under the
loosened clothes and the other slowly untying the belt keeping the material together.
“Smells so good.” The fox whispers into the crook of his neck, leaving open–mouthed kisses
under the boy’s jaw. “You smell so good, Chuuya. Delicious.” His words make the
redhead’s eyes roll back at a slow exhale.
Chilly air hits Chuuya’s skin when the kimono falls open, one side sliding to the futon and
the other pushed behind his hip, but the sensation is quickly replaced by the feeling of now
burning–hot fingers mapping his body, pressing into the inside of his thigh, bringing one of
Chuuya’s leg higher.
The kitsune hasn’t touched him there yet, but the redhead is already lost in the electrifying
pleasure Dazai’s fingers leave behind. Every touch burns and washed the boy’s mind with
expectations.
“Chuuya is really sensitive, hm?” The fox teases between bites and kisses. “Or is he tired,
perhaps?” He sounds calm, too calm for someone whose nails graze a labyrinth of faint lines
on Chuuya’s body
The redhead opens his mouth to bite back, but all that leaves his lips is a surprised moan
when Dazai’s hand suddenly moves up and his finger circles his nipple playfully.
“Hmm?” The fox dares to sound smug, and if Chuuya wasn’t feeling this good, he would be
elbowing him right now.
But he doesn’t want this to stop.

“What was that, little human?” Dazai keeps playing with his chest while his other hand feels
up and down his thigh, squeezing the flesh so close to Chuuya’s growing erection but never
quite reaching it.
“Y–you’re…” The redhead breaths out, arching into the hand on his chest. “...annoying.”
And a tease, and please don’t stop—
Dazai chuckles, his voice low and darker with every word. “But I’m making you feel good,
aren’t I?” He makes his point by pinching Chuuya’s nipple and playing with it until the soft,
needy gasps fill the air.
“Dazai—”
The kitsune kisses the plea from Chuuya’s lips, humming pleasantly when the redhead
squirms under his hold.
It feels good, it feels great—
But Chuuya needs more.
Dazai’s hand never stops playing with Chuuya’s chest, his mouth never stops exploring his
skin – sucking and biting and licking the marks left behind by sharp fangs – as the fox
whispers praises only for Chuuya to hear.
“Beautiful, gorgeous.”
“Sweet human.”
“My sensitive Chuuya—”
The boy tries to move his hips and his other leg to get at least some friction on his dick,
feeling himself getting harder but unable to do anything about it with the way one of his
hands is fisted in the shits and the other holding onto Dazai’s wrist. But it doesn’t work, one
of Dazai’s tails immediately wraps around his ankle and pulls it back, spreading Chuuya’s
leafs open and hooking one of them around the kitsune’s thighs, earning the fox a frustrated
whine from the redhead.
Arching his body again, Chuuya pushing into every touch he can and it draws a satisfied hum
from the fox, his fingers finally wrapping around Chuuya’s cock. It’s dry, but not for long,
Dazai’s thumb smearing pre cum leaking from the tip down Chuuya’s shaft and giving it a
slow stroke.
Finally, finally—
“So, so sensitive.” Dazai muses into his skin when Chuuya throws his head back and presses
it into his shoulder. “I like how you sound, right now.”
“D–Dazai—” A stronger stroke and another pinch to his nipple turns his words into a moan,
eyelids trembling.
“I like the way I make you sound.” The kitsune growls into Chuuya’s ear, possessive and
bordering on dangerous.
Gods, Chuuya isn’t sure if it’s the other’s words or hands on his body,or the feeling of being
touched with so much hunger and intent, but his mind is slowly losing its coherence, the only
thought left in it is—
“Please…”
—that he wants more of it. Of everything.
“Good boy.” It makes Chuuya shudder, his cock twitching at the praise.
Dazai continues to stroke his cock, caressing every throbbing vein and massaging the tip. His
tail tightens around Chuuya’s ankle, keeping it in place, while the other ones also start to
move now, brushing gentle caresses over his heated skin. They trail his shins, his thighs –
featherlike touches that tickle and keep Chuuya squirming, the haze fogging his mind
thickening.
It has no right to feel this good, but the fur is anything but innocent on the boy’s body. One of
the tails comes to his chest, now both of Chuuya’s nipples being teased. Dazai’s finger is hot
and pinching hard on it, while his tail circles the sensitive nub like a paint brush – slow and
sensual.
“Do you like it, Chuuya?” Dazai whispers, a hint of something dark hiding in his voice. “My
hands on you?” He squeezes the base of Chuuya’s cock tighter and the boy chokes on a
moan. “My tails making you feel like this?”
“I—”
His legs tremble when the tails climb a bit higher, pressing more into the insides on Chuuya’s
thighs so close to his—
“I—I do.”
The kitsune hums, satisfied, nibbling at the other’s ear. “I like it too.”
A surprised moan slips from Chuuya’s lips when one of the tails brushes his perineum, fur
tickling his balls in a way that has no right of feeling this good, sending a jolt of pleasure
through his body.
“T–To have you h–hands on me?” The redhead breathes out, eyes fluttering close when the
tail pressed against his skin, massaging the area under his balls in slow, rolling motions. “Or
your t–tails?”
“Both.” The kitsune answers with a low chuckle that quickly melts into a growl from the
back of his throat. “And my lips.”
He kisses Chuuya’s neck again—

“And my tongue.”
—licking around a mark over his pulse point—
“And my teeth.”
—and sinking his fangs into it again.
“I want to imprint my everything onto my beautiful human.” Dazai’s tails roam over
Chuuya’s body, the hand on his cock speeding up. “Would you let me, Chuuya?”
The redhead can feel himself getting closer to the edge, his mind overwhelmed with being
touched like this for the first time, with having Dazai’s whispers filling his entire being and
clawing at the parts of Chuuya the boy himself didn’t know he had.
“Would you be a good boy for me?” His tone lowers. “ Only for me?”
It’s getting more and more difficult to stay focused, to keep his mind here and not wander to
where the sinful words and burning touches take Chuuya.
“Would you let me claim you all over your body?”
And he is so close, searing pleasure pooling in his gut, his orgasm creeping into his body and
mind—
“D– Dazai— yes—”
—the moment Dazai bites down hard on his shoulder, Chuuya is gone.
Liquid pleasure washes over him as a violent wave, driven by the hands and tails still
caressing his body, helping him ride his orgasm out until the redhead melts into bliss and past
it into overstimulation. He can feel the kitsune's teeth on his skin – it doesn’t hurt, and
Chuuya doesn’t care if Dazai’s fangs drew some blood or not – and then it’s the fox’s hot
tongue that laps around the newly formed mark. One of many.
Eventually, the tails and the hand around his now soft cock retract, leaving the boy trembling
with leftover sensation and the chilly air cooling his skin. It takes a moment to have his
breathing under control again, and another moment for Chuuya to calm down from his high.
His eyelids are heavy and his mind is being lulled to sleep by Dazai’s soft humming and
low…
“Are you purring again, stupid fox?” Chuuya says with a small chuckle, pressing his back
against Dazai’s chest and turning his head slightly to try and steal a peek at the other.
“Chuuya likes it.” The kitsune simply says, nuzzling into Chuuya’s hair at the same time he
takes out a damp towel from somewhere behind him.
Why it was there, or for how long, the redhead won’t ask.
Not now.
He lets the fox clean him with the towel, hissing when the fabric brushes his sensitive parts.
He hopes the futon didn’t get too dirty because Chuuya doesn’t feel like moving anytime
soon, probably not until the morning, and even then – cleaning futons is such a pain.
Turning around, the redhead burying his face into the kitsune’s chest. “What about you? Do
you want me to…?” He’s holding onto the last remnants of an awake mind. Sure, the warm
afterglow of his orgasm – the most intense one he has yet – is making him sleepy, but he
wouldn’t want to leave the kitsune hanging if Dazai also wants to enjoy the evening a bit
more.
But the fox onlyi kisses the crown of his head, wrapping his arms and tails around the boy.
“It’s fine.” He murmurs. “Another time. You can sleep now.”
If Chuuya wasn’t so tired, he’d try to argue, but… Dazai’s low purring is so soothing and his
fur feels warm around his body – in a very innocent and comforting way, this time. Maybe
next time, then.
They’ll have plenty of chances.
Besides, seeing the little human flustered all the way to his shoulders the next morning when
he sees the marks Dazai left on him, and watching how his kimono doesn’t quite cover them
is enough of a reward for the fox.
(And another tick for the Akutagawa siblings’ teasing checklist.)
Chapter End Notes
The first part of this chapter happened solely because I decided to google whether foxes
purr or not one day AND THEN PROCEEDED TO USE IT RIGHT AWAY BECAUSE
IT’S TOO CUTE
But I personally think it’s hilarious how it went from fluff to jokes to tails bondage porn
—
ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed ^^
(I've been laughing at my own jokes while editing this, so you can also laugh at me)
Three Days' Worth
Chapter Notes
This is 90% smut.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Three days.
Three days is how long Chuuya has been glaring at Dazai from afar, denying the fox the
affection and kisses that he very much deserves. All because of the state the kitsune left the
boy’s neck last time – red marks scattered all around the pearly skin, for everyone’s view.
Naturally, the annoyed glare Dazai has been receiving isn’t that of true anger, far from that.
It’s always accompanied by a faint blush blooming on Chuuya’s face, by the increasing heart
rate Dazai can always hear, no matter how far away the boy sits, and by the way Chuuya
absentmindedly traces the marks with his fingers when he thinks the fox isn’t looking. It’s
always amusing – and impossibly satisfying – to see the redhead trying to cover them up from
the Akutagawa sibling’s eyes, only to fail miserably.
It’s mostly because Dazai knows Ryuu and Gin aren’t a threat, they won’t even think of doing
anything to Chuuya when they see his neck. They tease the boy about it, sure, but they
probably don’t think too much of it because, given how all of them live in the same house.
They know what the relationship between Chuuya and Dazai is, they don’t need to be
convinced.
But in Dazai’s mind, it’s a victory to have them see the proof.
To have them see the claim he laid on Chuuya.
A part of the kitsune, a very old and instinctual part of him, wants to always have the redhead
covered with his marks, for everyone to see. Because Chuuya is his, and the whole world
should know about it – the whole world should know to stay away from his human. But then
there is a more tame side of him, the more quietly possessive one, that wants to keep the boy
away from anyone’s eyes. It’s two very different, very conflicting, desires that fight inside
Dazai’s head, both equally as tempting.
Of course, it’s not like the choice is his, at least with the latter. Chuuya wouldn’t be happy to
be locked away for the rest of his life and, frankly, the fox doesn’t feel that fond of the idea
either.
Keeping the boy away from prying eyes? He would love to.
But keeping him from discovering the world and all its wonders? Not so much.
It’s only for now, it’s only until Dazai can sate the hunger that has been silently growing in
him for the past weeks, maybe even months. Let it be only him and Chuuya (and the
Akutagawa siblings) for now, let him claim the boy for Dazai to admire and cherish. For now.
It felt like a dream to have the redhead in his hands, under his mouth and at the mercy of his
tails for the first time, so much that the fox couldn’t care less about his own needs at the time.
He would like to taste Chuuya again, he would do it all the time if he could, but—
These three days of waiting?
They aren’t so bad, either.
Having Chuuya like this, sulking and fighting with himself not to feel embarrassed, satisfies a
different need in the kitsune. It’s amusing to watch the boy blush and reach for the marks so
delicately while only annoyed groans slip from his lips. It’s intriguing to pick on all the times
the boy secretly moves closer or finds an excuse for Dazai to touch him – always very
innocently, of course – without asking for it, because he has to keep up the pretence of being
angry. Chuuya says he doesn’t want Dazai to kiss him, a punishment of sorts, but he still
sleeps in the same futon with the fox every single night.
All in all, it’s adorable.
But it has been three days, and Chuuya’s stubbornness is slowly letting go, much to Dazai’s
delight. There is only so long the boy can sulk for, only so long he can keep himself away
from the kitsune, and once he finally accepts how much he misses the affection he was
getting before…
Dazai will be there, patiently waiting for him.
Like, for example, now—
“...your fur is tangled.”
Ah, Chuuya really likes to use this excuse when he doesn’t want to speak out his feelings,
doesn’t he?
Dazai hums, lips curling at the corners. “Well, Chibi has been abandoning his brushing duties
for three full days.” And if the fox made sure to use his tails more than usual during that time,
that’s only for him to know. “Of course, it is.”
“You could brush it yourself, you know?” And yet, Chuuya already has the brush in his hand,
already stepping closer.
“I could, but why would I, when I have Chuuya to do it for me~?”
Despite how the redhead rolls his eyes at the comment, the next moment he’s seated among
the white tails, already running his fingers through the soft fur. “Annoying fox…” He
murmurs, but it lacks any real spite. If anything, there is a hint of affection woven into his
voice, a constant note always reaching Dazai’s ears.
A chuckle blooms in the kitsune’s chest at that, and he doesn’t need to see Chuuya’s face to
know the boy is frowning at him behind his back.
“Annoying, huh?” He muses. “How come someone here is so worried about my fur, then?”
“Your personality is annoying, your fur didn’t do anything wr…” A pause. Oh, how sweet the
silence tastes. “..ong.”
A grin stretches on Dazai’s face. “Is that so?” His voice lowers and he can hear how
Chuuya’s heart skips a beat, the boy’s fingers twitching. “So Chibi likes my tails that much?”
“...”
It wasn’t actually the fox’s intention to have Chuuya feeling self–aware of it, he uses his tails
a lot, even in that regard, simply because it’s convenient. But if he can have the redhead
reacting like this to such an innocent question…
Well, that’s just a nice reward, isn’t it?
“...don’t make this weird.”
“Hm? It was but a question, of course~” But the way one of his tails moves to brush
Chuuya’s hair from his shoulder even without Dazai looking back, sending a shiver down the
redhead’s spine, is not as innocent as it may seem. Not when the fox knows what Chuuya is
thinking, what his body is remembering.
“Nothing is ‘just a question’ with you, shitty fox.” Despite that, the boy doesn’t move away.
He leans into the soft touch.
“I don’t remember Chuuya complaining, though.”
Silence.
“In fact…” Now, Dazai does look over his shoulder, catching Chuuya’s half–annoyed and
half–embarrassed gaze. “...If I recall it right, he seemed to quite like it.”
Chuuya’s grip on the brush tightens. “I don’t think I was the only one.”
“Oh, you weren’t.” Dazai’s eye flashes red as he turns around, leaning into Chuuya’s space
and cupping his cheek. “Having Chuuya wrapped in my tails was a pleasure.”
“I know.” The redhead huffs, rolling his eyes and not so secretly discarding the brush to the
side. “You weren’t subtle about it at all.”
“It wasn’t my intention to be subtle, little human.”
“...like now?”
Humming quietly, Dazai leans even closer, supporting himself on one hand as he hovers over
Chuuya who, on purpose or purely on instinct, is slowly leaning down on the futon. The
kitsune’s hand slides down to Chuuya’s neck, fingers ghosting over the almost faded marks,
and his gaze follows.
“Like always, I would say.”
He can feel the redhead swallow under his palm, his pulse getting quicker despite how
Chuuya rolls his eyes at him.
“That’s what got you in trouble last time.”
Their faces are inches apart when the boy fully lies down, red hair sprawled on the futon like
a halo of fire around his head. Exquisite, beautiful, perfect, maddening—
“I don’t mind trouble.” Their lips brush when Dazai whispers it, but it’s Chuuya who tilts his
head and kisses the kitsune first.
“You are…” The boy breathes the words out between the kisses. “...so fucking…” But he
can’t help but let out a sigh of pleasure when Dazai nibbles at his bottom lip. “... impossible.”
The kitsune doesn’t answer anything, but the grin stretching on his face says it all.
He relishes in the way Chuuya’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging Dazai closer as the kitsune
slowly opens his kimono, hands mapping his chest, stomach, down his sides and to his hips.
Letting out a soft moan, Chuuya throws his head back when Dazai’s mouth trails down,
kissing under his jaw, down the column of his neck, his collarbone—
The patterns his fingers trailed three days ago are now set ablaze by Dazai’s lips, by the fangs
grazing Chuuya’s skin ever so lightly. The kitsune can feel the boy shiver at every teasing
bite, every drag of his palms over the curve of his waist. Chuuya keeps his hands in Dazai’s
hair, scratching his scalp and brushing his fox ears.
How pliant.
How eager.
Chuuya lets out a surprised yelp when Dazai bites down on his nipple, arching into the touch
when—
“Say, Chuuya.” The kitsune laps his tongue over the red nub, then looks up at the boy, his eye
dark. “Have you ever done this with anyone?”
It must have caught Chuuya off–guard, because his hold on the brown hair loosens, eyes
shooting wide and blinking in confusion.
“...huh?”
“I said—” Dazai brushes his lips on the exposed skin, whispering the words into the crook of
Chuuya’s neck. “Have you ever had anyone touch you?” He plants a kiss right under
Chuuya’s ear. “Or have you ever touched anyone?” Dazai props himself on one elbow, his
free hand holding the boy under his jaw, tiling his head back as he stares down at him with an
almost dangerous intent—
“Other than me, of course.”
Aroused, but still very much confused, Chuuya looks at him, cheeks painted with faint pink
that only darkens the longer the kitsune keeps his gaze hostage.
“...didn’t you live here all along?” The redhead says, raising one brow cheekily. “Wouldn’t
you have seen something?”
Avoiding the question? How cute.
“I’m a demon, Chuuya.” Dazai chuckles. “Not a stalker.”
“You don’t sound convincing.”
“How rude.” He leans down, planting chaste kisses on Chuuya’s lips and jaw, and the
redhead’s breath stutters again. “But you haven’t answered my question.”
“...does it matter?” The boy asks back, turning his head to the side. “Whether I did or
didn’t?”
“Of course, it does.”
“Why? Because you’re a possessive fo— ah!” He’s cut off when Dazai bites his neck
lightly, sucking a dark mark in a place that, again, will be very visible tomorrow.
“That too.”
Dazai pulls himself up again, just enough to look at Chuuya, who looks back at him from the
corner of his eye.
“But also…” His hand slides from the boy’s neck to his shoulder, his side and hip, squeezing
it a little. “I need to know how gentle I need to be.” Then, his hand slides even further,
hooking under Chuuya’s knee and pulling it up before gently pushing it to the side. “I
wouldn’t want to hurt my partner now, would I?”
“...” Chuuya swallows, his heart hamming in his chest when Dazai’s fingers slide down the
inside of his thigh. “...I didn’t.”
“Hm~?”
“I’ve never done it with anyone!” The redhead covers his face with both arms to escape the
too satisfied grin that statement earns him. “There, happy?”
“Of course~” Dazai beams, nuzzling into Chuuya’s crossed arms while his hand is still
climbing higher. “What about with yourself?”
“I—is that really so important right now?!”

Another chuckle escapes Dazai. “Not that much, no. But I am curious.” His voice is low, one
finger tracing the outline of Chuuya’s half–hard cock, feeling it twitch at the contact. “About
how Chuuya likes it.” Then, his hand cups the boy’s asscheek, Dazai’s little finger sliding
down the rim, only teasing it. “About what he wants.”
His actions have the redhead squirming under him, his breathing getting heavier from the
simple touches.
“...I did the usual bit.” He groans eventually, peeking at the kitsune from behind his arms.
“The front. But never with the back…”
Dazai’s tails sway behind him, pleased, one of them reaching somewhere next to the futon,
dragging a small, silver bowl with a lid closer. It’s been there for a while now, but Chuuya
never cared to ask about it, at least not until now.
“Is that…?”
“Oils.” The fox offers him a softer smile, kissing Chuuya’s forehead when the boy moves his
arms away. “To make it feel better and easier.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “I know what these are for.”
“Hmm, good~”
Sparing the boy any further questions about his experience and likes, Dazai’s lips are back on
Chuuya’s body. His tongue laps at one of the nipples at the same time Dazai pushes Chuuya’s
other thigh to the side, settling between the redhead’s spread legs and keeping them down
with his tails.
It’s always a feast for Dazai’s mind to see how sensitive the redhead is, how he responds to
every smallest touch and how his heart races at times like this. Oh, how much he would like
to take his time to see all of Chuuya’s expressions, hear all of the sweet sounds he makes
under him – when he’s lost in pleasure, when he’s being pushed to his limits and beyond—
But that’s not for today.
No. Today, Dazai is going to be gentle. With this, at least.
His tails are all around Chuuya – wrapped around his ankles and wrists, massaging his thighs
and his chest – while Dazai moves lower and—
“Daz—!”
—he licks a long strap down the length of Chuuya’s cock, wrapping his fingers around the
base.
The kitsune hums, planting kisses and small licks on every vein, slicking Chuuya’s cock with
his spit and stroking it into hardness. “Does Chuuya not like it?” But he must tease him at
least a little.
“I—” The redhead needs to take a deep breath when Dazai laps his tongue over the tip,
sucking at it. “I do, gods—”
“Hmm, that’s good.” The fox says, red sparkles dancing in his eye. “But don’t bring the gods
into it. I am here, not them.”
“You…” Chuuya huffs out a laugh at the comment, shaking his head on the pillow. “You’re
crazy.”
“Maybe a little.” Dazai’s free hand reaches to the silver bowl, and the next moment his
slicked fingers slide down the rim of Chuuya’s ass. They don’t push inside, only let the boy
feel them there, teasing the sensitive spots and circling the entrance—
“Wait.” Chuuya suddenly says, and Dazai stops. “What about your… em, nails?”
Ah, his claws.
“Don’t worry, Chibi.” When Dazai shows his hand to Chuuya, his nails look… normal. Well
trimmed, as if they weren’t grazing his skin just a second ago. “Being a demon has many
perks.”
Plus, he wants this to be pleasurable for Chuuya, not painful.
“So relax, little human.” He murmurs the words into the skin on the inside of the boy’s thigh,
slowly stroking his dick to help him focus on what feels good. “I’ve got you.”
When he feels Chuuya’s body relaxing under his hands and tails, Dazai circles his entrance
with one finger for a moment, applying just enough force to push it inside to the first
knuckle. He keeps his tails gently massaging Chuuya’s body and his hand slowly stroking his
cock, while his eye and ears are focused on picking up any signs of discomfort.
Chuuya tenses at the intrusion, but doesn’t seem in pain. With every push deeper, Dazai lets
the redhead’s body adjust, waiting for the muscles around his finger to stop clenching on it
before he moves again. By the time this whole finger is buried inside Chuuya, the boy is
breathing heavily, his eyes are closed and lips parted in a silent gasp.
He’s beautifully laid out under Dazai, so tempting to just dive in and devour right now—
But no.
For today, Dazai takes all of it in – the blush burning on Chuuya’s face and down to his
shoulders, the muscles tensing and relaxing under his tails, the red lips swollen from the
kisses and how his body seems to fit so perfectly in Dazai’s hands.
It takes a while before the quiet whines turn into moans as the kitsune moves his finger inside
of him, massaging his inner walls, and when the second finger slips inside…
“Shh.” Dazai soothes, feeling Chuuya’s legs tremble. “Relax. It’ll feel good soon.”
He slows down, focusing on the redhead’s cock to overcome the faint discomfort painting
itself on Chuuya’s face with pleasure. He kisses the tip, licks around the slit and takes it
inside his mouth, careful of the fangs.
“Daz—”
Dazai hums around Chuuya’s cock, well aware of how the vibrations make the boy moan
louder when he sucks hard, relishing in the choked out gasp it earns him. At the same, his
fingers are still pushing inside the redhead, deeper and deeper until—
“ Ah!”
Until Dazai finally finds that spot.
Chuuya’s body arches from the futon, his legs spreading wider, toes curling and his eyes
half–lidded. “D… do it again.”
And the kitsune does just that. He makes sure to hit Chuuya’s sweet spot on every thrust,
stretching his walls every time he pulls out and twisting his wrist when he pushes back
inside. Chuuya’s hips start to rock against Dazai’s hand, almost desperate, his cock leaking
all for the kitsune to admire. He can sense the human is getting closer to his orgasm, likely
overwhelmed by being stimulated in so many places at once for the first time, and…
The moans – louder and more desperate by the second – are like music to Dazai’s ears, the
way Chuuya grips at his fur and trembles under him sparks a fire of instinctual satisfaction in
the fox’s chest. It makes him high on all the sounds, on this sight of his human spread out for
him.
“Daz—ah—I’m—”
“You’re what, little human?” And all of it may be bringing the darker side of Dazai out again.
The side that wants to watch Chuuya come undone at his mercy, to hear him chant Dazai’s
name like a mantra. “Would you like to come?”
“Yes, yes, gods—”
Dazai tuts, his hands slowing down despite the boy’s whines and protests.
“Why…”
“I told you, Chuuya.” The kitsune purrs, low and alluring. “Don’t bring the gods into it.”
“I—” Throwing his head back, the boy presses it into the pillow and the tails keeping his
wrist pinned there. “Dazai, please, I’m so close. Daz—”
“That’s better~”
His hands speed up again, and now his thumb is also pressing into Chuuya’s perineum in the
same rhythm as his fingers thrust inside. The redhead’s words are losing their coherence,
choked out moans slipping from his lips at every hit to his prostate.
Dazai can see the moment pleasure washes over him, he can feel the walls clenching around
his digits and hot cum spilling into his hand on Chuuya’s stomach.
“That’s it.” He murmurs, stroking the redhead through his orgasm until Dazai can see
overstimulation settling in his features. “That’s a good boy.”
He pulls his fingers out slowly, retracting all of his tails except for the one Chuuya is
nuzzling into and reaching for the cloth he keeps next to their futon to clean the boy up. This
time, Chuuya doesn’t drift to sleep, nor does he seem overly tired – only blissed and still
coming down from the blinding pleasure…
“You keep calling me that.” Dazai hears Chuuya whisper, one blue eye peeking at him lazily.
“That… you know.”
“You mean ‘good boy’?” The fox grins, smug with the way he makes Chuuya blush.
“Yeah.”
“Because Chibi seems to like it.” It was something Dazai noticed a while ago and, frankly, he
also likes calling the redhead that.
“Ugh.” Ah, he’s always adorable when he’s embarrassed. Even more when he’s embarrassed
and naked. “Whatever. Wait no—”
“Hm?” Dazai’s ears perk up as he discards the cloth to the side and settles on massaging
Chuuya’s thighs and hips instead.
“You didn’t get off. Again.”
Ah.
“It’s okay, I’m—”
“No.” The redhead cuts him off. “I’m not falling for that again.”
Dazai’s eye widens, his lips curling into a smirk and his voice dropping into a low purr. “Are
you that eager to please me, little human?”
“I’m…” He throws one of the pillows at Dazai, huffing when the fox avoids it easily. “That’s
only fair, isn’t it?”
Well, maybe.
Dazai has perfect control over his body, so he would be fine even without it – not that he
minds the offer, he very much doesn’t – but if Chuuya isn’t tired and is willing instead, then
why would he deny them both?
“If you’re this eager—”
“Oi—”
“—I will gladly take Chuuya up on his offer.”
Supporting himself on his arms on both sides of Chuuya’s body, Dazai leans down, stealing a
kiss from the boy’s lips and soothing the pout blooming on them.
“Would you mind laying on your stomach for me?”
The redhead looks at him with a somewhat fogged expression, his words sluggish. “Are you
going to…?”
“Fuck you? No.” He plants another kiss on the boy’s forehead. “It would be too much for
Chuuya’s first time being stretched.”
“Then what…?”
“You’ll see.” Dazai says, red sparkles shining from within the dark orbs. “If you turn around,
of course.”
It takes a bit of shuffling, but eventually Chuuya is lying down on his stomach, his head
turned to the side and hands resting next to it on the pillow. His back is like a blank canvas,
only his shoulders faintly pink, the curve of his ass perfect—
“It should be a sin.” The fox whispers to himself, sliding his finger down Chuuya’s spine and
watching how the boy arches under his touch. “How beautiful you are.”
“Huh?”
“I said you’re breathtaking.” He trails kisses down the same path his finger mapped before.
“And that it’s making me crazy.”
Smiling to himself with how easily Chuuya lets him move his body, Dazai pulls his hips up,
until the redhead is supporting himself on his knees while his chest is still lying on the futon.
The boy’s fingers dig into the pillow, his blush darkening with how the position makes him
feel exposed.
“But you said—”
“I know what I said.” Dazai reassures him, reaching out for the oil again. “I won’t fuck into
you, Chuuya.” He smears it between the boy’s thighs, under his balls, making him shiver.
“But there are other options, don’t you know?”
Chuuya shudders when he feels Dazai’s cock slide between his legs – the kitsune has control
over his body, but he has just had his partner under his hands, a few strokes are enough to get
him into full hardness. Dazai pushes Chuuya’s legs tighter together, releasing a satisfied sigh
at the pressure, and then uses his tails to keep them from sliding apart while he grabs onto the
boy’s hips.
“Like this…” Dazai rolls his hips in a slow thrust. “...it won’t hurt you.”
Chuuya lets out a soft gasp when Dazai’s cock hits his own.
“And maybe…”
The motion stimulates his perineum, his ball and his cock that, as Chuuya realises quickly,
may be getting hard again.
“...I can be a little mean this time.”
“Mean?” The boy asks, glancing at Dazai curiously. “Really? Right now?”
A chuckle. “It’s going to be the nice kind of mean, Chuuya. Don’t worry.” Dazai’s hips move
faster with every thrust. “But do tell me if you feel uncomfortable at any point.”
With a small nod from Chuuya, the kitsune doesn’t need more reassurance.
His hold on the boy’s hips tightens – and will likely leave marks, good – as his pace speeds
up. It’s not as hot as his fingers felt inside of Chuuya, not as tight, but it’s enough for Dazai
to let out a growl at how good it feels. Every thrust is rewarded with a gasp from the redhead,
a moan here and there as the stimulation brings him pleasure all over again. At some point,
Dazai drags his hand down Chuuya’s spine, claws grazing the skin and leaving long, red
marks without actually breaking the skin.
And Chuuya arches into it, pressing his chest more into the futon and presenting his hips so
deliciously. His hair falls around his shoulders on on the sheets, liquid sunset only for Dazai
to—
Ah, he’s been waiting to do it for what feels like ages.
With only one hand holding onto Chuuya’s hips, Dazai reaches out, fingers disappearing
among the flame–like locks and fisting in Chuuya’s hair—
“Ah!”
He doesn’t pull hard, not too much, he doesn’t want to push the redhead too far too fast in
case it would scare him, but it’s enough to have him pull his head up from the pillow, staring
forward with half–lidded eyes, his mouth hanging open.
“Do you like it, Chuuya?” Dazai purrs, his hips never slowing down as he tugs at the red
hair again. “Being on your knees with my cock between your legs?”
Not inside of him just yet, but soon—
“Daz—ai—”
“Because I am enjoying myself a lot right now.”
Then, a familiar scent reaches his nose, a shiver Dazai felt before under his hands running
down the redhead’s body and—
“Are you hard again, little human?” Satisfaction pours from his every word. “Would you like
me to touch you? Again?”
“Y— yes—”
And, well, Dazai said he would be only a little mean, he isn’t going to deny his partner that
much. Although… it doesn’t mean he will do exactly what Chuuya must have in mind.
Two of his tails reach out, wrapping around the boy’s arms and pulling him up, Dazai’s grip
in his hair never loosening, until Chuuya’s back is pressed into Dazai’s chest. And the kitsune
does touch him, but not where the boy wants him to.
His free hand slides from his hip to his thigh, so close to his cock but never quite there. Then
it travels to his chest, stomach, hip again—
“T–That’s not—”
Dazai hums into Chuuya’s skin, sucking a trail of dark marks. “That’s not what?”
“That’s not—” The boy breathes out, whimpering when Dazai’s cock hits his perineum
harder, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. “That’s not where I n–need you to touch
me.”
“No?” He knows. “And where would you like it, then?”
He pinches Chuuya’s nipple, relishing in the moan it earns him—
“Here?”
His tails wraps around Chuuya’s middle to make sure they’re both steady, while his hand
climbs up, covering the boy’s throat and giving it a gentle squeeze—
“Here?”
A primal instinct growls from the deepest parts of Dazai’s mind, his hips snapping forwards
harder when Chuuya squeezes his thighs at the pressure. Then, his hand lets go of the boy’s
throat, fingers brushing his cheek and lips, slightly pushing inside—
“Or maybe here?”
And Chuuya gives in so easily, parting his lips and licking between Dazai’s fingers.
The sight and the feeling of it make Dazai’s eye dilate, his tails tightening where they’re
wrapped around the boy, and his fingers thrusting inside Chuuya’s mouth in rhythm with his
hips.
Chuuya whimpers around his fingers, a single tear of pleasure pooling in the corner of the
blue eye. He doesn’t fight, doesn’t protest in the slightest – he’s enjoying this as much as
Dazai is – but he’s already come once, he needs to be touched to reach the peak again.
They both know it.

“Beautiful.” Dazai whispers into Chuuya’s ear, letting go of his hair. “Doing so well.” The
redhead sucks at his fingers, and Dazai rewards him with both a bite to the side of his neck
and finally wrapping his hand around his cock again.
Chuuya’s whole body trembles as the kitsune starts stroking him in time with his thrusts.
Muffled moans fill the room and the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin ring through
the air.
“Let go, Chuuya.” Dazai murmurs, and the redhead trembles when the second orgasm washes
over his body at the same time as the kitsune spills between his thighs.
And this time, they both allow themselves to fall into a pool of pleasure.
As Chuuya lies on the futon next to Dazai, satisfied and warm and clean under the sheets, he
thinks back to what they were doing before.
Well, maybe not exactly to what they were doing – he enjoyed it a lot, but now he’s tired and
already falling asleep in the fox’s arms – but to how they did it. There is nothing to complain
about, nothing to feel insecure about, Dazai was satisfied with it, but—
He didn’t take the bandages off.
More than that – while Chuuya was naked, Dazai only loosened his clothes when the redhead
was turned around. When he couldn’t have seen underneath it.
Maybe it’s partially Chuuya’s fault. He has never asked about it, about the bandages and why
Dazai wears them, and whether he would show him what’s underneath. For the longest time,
the redhead’s mind simply accepted that this is how the fox carries himself, and that there is
no need for Chuuya to try and peek at what isn’t being shown to him willingly.
But now they’re in a relationship.
They’re partners.
And it makes Chuuya wonder, as he drifts to sleep…
Would Dazai show him what is hiding under the bandages if he asks?
Is Chuuya allowed to ask, in the first place?
(Because he will ask, the real question should be: is he ready to face the truth?)
Chapter End Notes
...welll
.......this was my thirst chapter
The next one will be important tho!
(Also, in case people are wondering/scared: while there may be some angsty bits along
the way, this fluff arc will still last foooooor 10-12 chapters, depending on how I divide
them, because there's a lot to cover. So don't worry about angst too much, because we're
still a few weeks away from it :3 )
The Real You
Chapter Notes
As April comes, the cherry blossom season passes.
The tree in their garden bloomed for a little over two weeks, longer than Chuuya has ever
heard any cherry blossom to last – likely thanks to being a gift from Kouyou – but now the
flowers gradually start to cover the grass instead of the tree crown, creating a scenery of a
warm and colourful winter with the snow of petals. But Chuuya isn't sad about the change, he
knew it would happen eventually and he also knows he'll be here to enjoy the view again,
next year.
Plus, there are many more flowers in the garden that won't be withering anytime soon and
some that are still waiting for their season to come. The sakura tree is a nice addition, but it's
not everything, it doesn't dictate their home's beauty. Just like the garden alone doesn't dictate
Chuuya's happiness. It's a relaxing place for him, a sight that never fails to take his breath
away, but it's only a part of the life he has found here, only a part of what he wishes to hold
onto…
"You know… Maybe demons aren't meant to be cooks."
Leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed, Chuuya watches how the Akutagawa
siblings are trying to prepare their lunch. He gave them a simple recipe, one of the first few
he mastered at Adam's shrine when he was a teenager, so it really shouldn't be taking this
long or creating this much of a mess, even if they're making it for the first time. But Chuuya
has long since learnt that anything is possible with these two in the kitchen.
Ryuu is standing by the fireplace, his brows furrowed as he's trying not to burn their stir fry
while Gin is glaring daggers at the vegetables she's been chopping, each either cut into too
small or too big pieces. Sure, the girl is skilled with a knife and she works fast, but that alone
doesn't mean she can feel what size will work best.
"We're doing exactly what you said." Ryuu mumbles, still concentrating on the sizzling food
to the point where it’s almost amusing.
"I know." Chuuya half sighs, half laughs. "Which is why I'm amazed it smells so different
from when I make it."
On the inside, the redhead gave up on expecting them to learn how to cook a long time ago,
but it's always fun to watch the two struggling. Especially after all the teasing he's been
subjected to from them, this is but a fair payback.
"Why make us do this if you're going to complain?” Looking up for a brief second, Ryuu
sends him a cheeky smirk. “Dazai–sama isn't even here to keep you occupied."
See? They deserve to suffer every once in a while.
Ignoring Gin's chuckle at the comment, Chuuya rolls his eyes at the other boy. "I'm helping
you hone your skills so you can impress your precious 'Dazai–sama' without my help one
day."
Not that he believes it'll ever happen, not with this anyway.
"Plus," He adds, more casually now. “It would be nice to eat something nice on my birthday
without having to actually prepare it."
Until now, it was always his dad, or uncle Adam, or uncle Paul that took care of everything
on Chuuya's birthday. (Why does it feel like he’s forgetting something?) The redhead doesn't
consider that day too big of a deal, it's just a day when he officially gets older, but it's a nice
excuse to act lazy for once, which is something he couldn't do until now. There was always
work and chores to do, money to earn, living by himself after coming back to the village
wasn't all that nice and easy, even if his friends would always offer to help.
Of course, here everything is different, here Chuuya doesn't need an excuse to act spoiled for
one day. Hell, that fox would most likely love for him to act spoiled all the time, but that's not
going to happen, it's not the kind of person Chuuya is. But when his birthday comes...
Well, a nice tradition doesn't hurt.
"Birthday?" Ryuu and Gin look at each other for a moment before their eyes widen in panic,
as if they’ve only just now realised that birthdays are a thing. "When?!" And judging from
their reaction, that’s probably exactly the case.
It may be the first time Chuuya hears Gin speak this loudly, making him genuinely surprised.
Ah, he's never mentioned it before, has he?
"In less than four weeks." Chuuya shrugs, his cheeks blushing faintly for no real reason. "On
the 29th."
Mind you, he doesn't expect anything special – no presents or anything like that, he doesn’t
need or want it – Chuuya would simply like a nice meal without having to spend hours in the
kitchen before. It doesn't need to be complicated either, just... something they all will be able
to enjoy together.
"Why didn't you say anything before?" Ryuu frowns, while Gin only adds vegetables to the
pot without looking.
Honestly? Chuuay forgot they didn't know about it.
"I'm doing it now...?" He says instead, a little awkward. It's not like his birthday is tomorrow,
or anytime too soon, or like it’s something highly important.
"Does Dazai–sama know?"
"..."
"Chuuya." Ryuu sighs, letting his sister take over stirring the food and hoping she'll be any
better at it. "That's something he would like to know."
It's true, and there's no reason not to tell him other than—
"But he's going to do something unnecessary." If Dazai was a human, Chuuya would think
he'd throw some kind of a huge party, but he's a demon and that creates possibilities the boy
can't even begin to think about. Possibilities that may go way overboard, creating only
problems for all of them. "I'll be fine with just a nice meal, really."
A meal preferably not prepared by Dazai, considering how he avoids the subject of his
cooking skills even when they bicker—
"A meal for what?"
—but, as always, the fox has to appear at the worst possible moment.
Ryuu grins, traitor. "Chuuya's birthday."
Dazai's tails are already rubbing the redhead's side and arm when the boy feels a hand on the
top of his head gently tilting his head back without moving him any other way until his gaze
meets the fox's dark eye. Dark locks fall around his face as the kitsune leans down, his ears
comically perked up.
"Why was Chibi hiding such an important secret from me?" His tone sounds amused with
only a hint of the growing pout. Is he a kitsune or a child?
"I wasn't." It's almost true, Chuuya really did forget until now, and if after realising it he still
decided not to tell Dazai, then… "And it's not that important."
"I think it is." Dazai argues, cocking his head.
"Well, I don't know when yours is either."
"Because Chibi never asked."
"Neither did you."
The banter would likely continue for a while if it wasn't for Ryuu's very indiscreet cough
reminding Chuuya the siblings are still here. With a soft huff, he moves his head back, his
neck was already starting to hurt anyway, and lets the fox rest his chin on the red hair. There’s
no fighting Dazai’s incurable clinginess anymore, at least he’s not doing anything too
improper this time.
"It's on the 29th of April." Ryuu says, completely ignoring how the human glares daggers at
him.
"Ah, thank you, Ryuu~" The kitsune chirps. "What should I do, I wonder~"
"See?" Chuuya raises his eyebrows at Gin, because her brother is still a traitor and Chuuya is
not talking to him now. "I told you."
One of Dazai's tails stirs, brushing the redhead's leg. "Told them what?"
"That you'll want to do something unnecessary." But before the fox can defend himself with
his tricks and half–truths, Chuuya adds: "So? When is yours?"
He can't see the kitsune like this, he can only hear Dazai's humming as if he's thinking about
some complicated problem and not a simple question about one date—
"I don't know."
—huh?
Any other answer, be it an evasive one or a joke, wouldn’t have surprised the redhead. Any
but this.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Chuuya wants to glare at him, but he can barely move
his head with the weight of Dazai’s head on top of it.
"Not all yōkai are 'born' in the same way as humans, Chibi, some of us just... appear." Right,
it doesn't explain much. It doesn’t explain anything. "And it was hundreds of years ago, I
wouldn't remember the date even if I knew it at the time."
That at least makes some sense.
But Chuuya isn't going to give up so easily. If Dazai is going to do something unnecessary for
Chuuya’s birthday – and the boy is sure he will – then he has to do something for the kitsune,
or his pride won’t be able to heal after this.
"Do you remember anything?" He tries. "Like, the earliest memory or something?" it doesn’t
have to be exactly the correct day, as long as it’s somewhat close to it.
For a moment, the kitsune says quiet, seemingly thinking about it—
"I was in the forest."
—and, oh, how not helpful he can be sometimes.
Unfortunately, forests stay around for the whole year so it doesn't change anything, it doesn’t
give Chuuya any clues. "Was there snow? Was it warm?" he will accept any and all smallest
details to at least narrow it down to one season.
"Hmm, no snow, but I don't care about temperatures so I'm not sure how cold or warm it
was."
…
So, they can assume it’s not winter – that is something, right? Only three more seasons to go
with.
"And there were flowers around." The kitsune adds slowly, his tails stilling as he focuses on
thinking back. "The ones that have lots of smaller flowers in big balls—"
In big what, now?
“—most were blue, but some were white, I think?"
Flowers, balls, blue and white...? Chuuya has never expected anyone to be able to describe
something this vaguely while also being this specific, but Dazai never ceases to amaze him in
all ways possible.
Was there ever anything like that on the flower grandma's stall? She would know for sure, but
Chuuya isn’t an expert, he only knows some things about…
"You mean... hydrangeas?" It kind of fits the description, doesn’t it? "Like in my painting of
the garden, around the corners?"
"Ah, yes." Dazai tries to nod, but it only ruffles Chuuya's hair, earning him a groan from the
redhead. "That's what I remember."
Well... If that's true, then it narrows the time down significantly. Hydrangeas bloom mostly in
June here and—
"And the summer solstice was soon after."
—seriously?
"Why didn't you start with that?!"
"Because I only remembered it now~"
“You— ugh…”
The fox whines when Chuuya leaves from his spot to help Gin with seasoning their food
instead of staying as the fox’s chin–rest. The girl looks grateful, but whether it's because of
his help or because it means ending their show of bickering affection, no one shall know.
"Let's just say it's on the 19th of June, then." It's just a random date, but they can change it if
the fox ever remembers anything even more specific.
"I don't actually know if it was my birth time, though." Now it's Dazai who leans on the
doorframe, thankfully not making the kitchen more crowded than it already is with the boy
and the Akutagawa siblings. “It’s been too long.”
"It's the earliest thing you remember, right?"
"Yes?"
Perfect. "So we'll go with it." Chuuya sends him a smile, one that's equally as teasing as it is
genuine.
"But it won't serve its purpose." Dazai stares at the redhead, his ears turned to the sides. "I've
never actually counted the years I was around."
Ah, somehow Chuuya expected that. Dazai would always say ‘centuries’ this, ‘hundreds of
years’ that – never a specific number, not even to try and tease Chuuya about it.
"Doesn't matter." The boy simply waves it off. "We can still celebrate it. You know, for fun."
"Oh?"
Chuuya's words weren't meant to have any deeper meaning, but the kitsune sounds like he
has added his own interpretation, because of course he has. Something that he should not be
saying when Ryuu and Gin are around, for all of their sanity.
"Does Chibi want to give me a present?" If only he stopped at that... "Because I wouldn't
mind accepting Chibi as my pre—"
"Don't." He points at the fox with the long chopsticks, his face growing hotter as he feels the
Akutagawas' stare on himself. "Don't say another word. Just go away. Now."
Flashing his fangs in a wide grin, the kitsune obeys. His tails sway cheerfully as he
disappears behind the wall, his humming fading soon after.
Thank gods.
Now, Chuuya only needs to deal with the awkward atmosphere in the kitchen and the teasing
stares from the other two. Fortunately, Dazai's words are the only thing Ryuu and Gin can use
against him because – by sheer luck – the redhead's neck has no more marks left on it today,
at least not where the kimono doesn't reach.
"So..." He clears his throat, not looking at the siblings. "Do you two have birthdays...?"
He's not asking only to be polite and avoid any remarks that would darken his blush, but
because Chuuya is actually curious. They all live together, there's no reason why they should
only celebrate Chuuya and Dazai’s birthdays.
The siblings look at each other, probably thinking whether they want to let Dazai's last
comment be forgotten for now or not – let the redhead have peace or not?
"We don't know either, but..." Ryuu says after a while. "...the time when Dazai–sama picked
us up wouldn't be a bad date to choose." Somehow, both of their expressions soften, a note of
nostalgia ringing in the boy's voice and a small smile stretching on his sister's face.
"You don't remember anything before that?"
"We do." Gin answers, already taking out the plates and bowls for their meal.
It's Ryuu who finishes for her, an apologetic look in his eyes. "But it's nothing pleasant."
Now that Chuuya thinks about it, every time Ryuu would mention the past, Dazai was always
there. He knows the fox rescued them from someone not exactly pleasant to be around, but
the siblings have never mentioned much of that part of their lives and…
Well, if they don't want to, Chuuya won't force them.
It sounds personal and it's not the conversation to have over lunch. The Akutagawas,
however, don't let the sour mood linger in the air.
"Don't worry, though." Ryuu says, mock innocence in his voice. "We won't ask for you as a
pres—"
"Oh, fuck off!"
The rest of the day follows the routine, with only a few additional whines from the fox when
Chuuya rejects his ideas about what a present can and can't be. Some of them sound like they
could work, like a trip for example, if only Dazai wouldn't try to take him to a different
dimension instead of a different town. Chuuya has never even left the country, he is not
leaving the world just to please the annoying demon’s wishes. He also doesn't appreciate the
fox offering himself as a gift, but at least he does it when the Akutagawas aren't around,
saving Chuuya some of the headache and embarrassment.
By the time evening falls upon the world, the redhead has heard enough of crazy ideas to last
him for a lifetime. Although, he's pretty sure most of them were jokes in the first place,
because the kitsune likes to get on his nerves just for the sake of it before wrapping his tails
around Chuuya and pretending he's innocent, well aware that the boy is weak when it comes
to his fur. It's too soft, too nice on the skin for someone like Dazai.
"Chibi is so hard to please." The kitsune sighs as the boy finishes brushing his tails.
"I'm not." Gods, how many times has he already said that today? "Your ideas are just too
weird. Don’t make it my fault."
"Then how about we invite Kouyou and your uncle Adam for lunch?"
"Stop being annoying and—"
Hold on. Did he just...?
Chuuya's hands stop, confused. "Say that again?"
"I knew it." The tails slide away from the redhead's lap as the fox turns around. "Chibi doesn't
actually listen to me, he just rejects everything~"
Shaking his head, the boy throws the brush to the side and gets up to walk to their futon to
take his night clothes out from where he stores them under the pillow.
"I do listen, but your nonsense is giving me a headache." He groans, not looking at the
kitsune. "But..." Ugh, admitting Dazai said something that sounds nice feels weird on his
tongue. "...it would be nice to, em... see them again."
He's reaching for the clothes when long fingers wrap around his wrist, guiding his hand away
from the kimono. Chuuya knows what he'll be greeted with if he looks up – with Dazai's
satisfied smirk and a glowing eye, probably showing his fangs off in a satisfied grin. He
knows and, yet, his heart still skips a beat when he meets the red gaze, a crimson eye holding
his blue ones hostage as the fox brings Chuuya's hand to his mouth.
"Then we'll do it." Dazai's lips brush his knuckles. "Anything to make my little human
happy."
His bath already forgotten, the boy lets himself be guided to sit on the futon by the hand on
his arm and the tails pushing him closer.
"I would have been happier if you had stopped your nonsense earlier." It's a futile attempt at
sounding annoyed, but the words flow out by themselves, driven by Chuuya’s habits.
"Hmm~" Dazai presses another kiss to the back of his hand, his other arm circling Chuuya's
waist as he pulls him into his lap. "I think Chibi likes my teasing. He likes my voice." He
murmurs the words into the inside of the boy's wrist. "And my attention."
Chuuya's kimono loosens, revealing faded marks on his collarbones. He wants to deny
Dazai's claims, but…
He can't say that he hates it when the kitsune is focused only on him, kissing him all around.
Nor does he dislike his voice, especially when it's like this. When it's low and with a hungry
but patient note, whispered right into his skin and sending shivers through his body.
"..." Blue eyes watch as the fox trails gentle kisses up his arm and back to his wrist again.
"This and that are completely different matters."
Dazai raises his brow teasingly, his thumb stroking the skin over Chuuya's pulse point. "Are
they?" He purrs. "So you wouldn't want me as a present, then?"
Gods, he won't win this one, will he?
"No..." Chuuya breathes out, fully aware of how weak he sounds right now, all of his earlier
firmness gone.
"Ah, Chibi's denial is truly adorable." Dazai presses one more kiss to the boy's hand before
letting it rest on his shoulder, his arm moving behind Chuuya's back, fingers sliding up his
neck and into his hair. "But the way his heart beats faster, or skips, is truly my favourite."
It only takes a gentle push to the back of his head to make Chuuya lean closer, hands gripping
at the dark kimono as he presses his lips to Dazai's, earning him a satisfied hum that fills his
mind. None of it is new – the kitsune's lips, the feeling of fingers in his hair and nails grazing
his skin, the arms and tails keeping him caged – all of it is familiar.
All of it is like a drug, intoxicating and pushing the redhead to seek more.
More of Dazai's lips, more of the fangs teasing his flesh, more of the tongue tasting him
before sliding inside, devouring the redhead's mouth as their chests press closer. His fading
marks feel hot under his skin as Chuuya stretches his neck, ready to have new ones painted
on it. His body arches when Dazai's arms wrap all around his waist, his thighs squeezing the
kitsune's hips, melting at the soft caresses of the tails on his exposed legs and sliding the
kimono further up where possible.
Chuuya gasps when Dazai's hold on him tightens, his arms wrapping around the other's neck
as the kitsune lays him on the futon, their lips never letting go of each other. The pillow under
his head feels nice, but Dazai's fingers in his hair are better. The futon under his back is soft
but not as warm at the tails brushing his legs, or the body over him.
Sliding his other arm from behind the redhead, Dazai moves to kiss his jaw, his neck, playing
with the hem of Chuuya's kimono, fingers teasing the skin hidden under it. The redhead’s soft
gasps fill the room together with occasional growls and hums from the kitsune.
Throwing his head back, Chuuya relishes in the feeling of Dazai's lips sliding down to his
chest, he can feel dark marks forming under his skin and new bites imprinted everywhere the
fox's fangs sink into his body. Chuuya's hands tug at the brow locks, they play with the soft
fur of Dazai's ears and—
Ah, he almost forgot about it, so used to always seeing and feeling it there that it's become a
part of the only image he knows.
"Dazai?"
The fox hums, a silent question pressed right over Chuuya's heart when the boy speaks…
"Will... will you take these off?"
And just like that the tails, the kisses, everything stops.
A part of Chuuya was scared this would happen, he was scared the bandages would be
something that he wouldn't be able to get past no matter how hard he would try. Maybe he
should have asked about it sooner and not while they're like... this already. Maybe he
shouldn't have asked at all, what if it's rude, or if Dazai gets angry because he asked about it?
There are a dozen reasons why Chuuya shouldn't ask.
There are a hundred reasons why he did.
Because Chuuya wants to feel close to his partner, he wants them to be together in both
emotional and physical sense – he wants to see Dazai, the whole him. He doesn't hate the
bandages that cover the kitsune, he won't force them to reveal what Dazai doesn't want to
show, but—
"If... If you don't mind, of course..."

—gods, he just wants to know his partner. Just like Dazai knows him.
When the fox pulls away, Chuuya's skin suddenly feels cold, like the heat that was there just
seconds ago turned into ice. He's scared he really did something wrong, that he shouldn't
have asked. He's scared Dazai will leave—
But when their eyes meet, his partner is smiling.
It's not his teasing smirk, not a hungry grin, it's not even a happy smile. It's full of...
melancholy. There's affection in it, yes, his one visible eye is staring into Chuuya's soul with
a faraway look, but it's warm, though not as burning hot as before.
"If you want me to, I will." Dazai's voice is gentle, careful as if its sound alone could cause
pain. "But you won't like it."
Chuuya starts to shake his head, he's sure that can't be true, but the fox strokes his hair slowly
and the boy can't find his own words.
"You'll be scared."
"I won't—" He doesn't finish, shushed by the feeling of the hand leaving his hair, only for the
back of Dazai's fingers to brush his cheek instead.
"You won't mean to." He sounds calm, but the pensive sadness still rings through his voice,
his eye darker than ever and slowly growing empty. "But you will be."
More and more questions spiral in Chuuya's head when the fox sits back, still smiling at him
and reaching out his hand to help the boy up. Blue eyes search for a sign of what Dazai's
words mean, his hand both cold and hot in the fox's hold, resting on his thigh.
"What do you...?"
Anger, Chuuya would understand, denial as well, but this? He doesn't know what to think, or
whether he has hurt the fox with his request in a way he can’t understand.
"Say, Chibi." Dazai’s thumb rubs Chuuya's skin, calming and unnerving all the same. "How
much about kitsunes do you know?"
Huh? Well... not much?
The boy blinks, confused, his brows slightly furrowed. "...I know you." How good of an
example that is, Chuuya can't know for sure, but at least his answer draws a small chuckle
from the fox. One that is almost happy.
"Then there's a lot you don't know yet, little human. How we are born, what grants our
power, how to hurt us..." The last part, Chuuya isn't sure he wants to know, he doesn't want to
even think about it. "...and how to kill us."
"Wha—?" Chuuya wants to ask why Dazai would even mention something like that, but the
fox shakes his head and the boy falls silent.
"When a kitsune is born," He continues. "Whichever way it may be, they're always born with
a part of them separated from their body. Humans have called it many things – our hearts, the
source of our powers, our souls. All of it is true and all of it is wrong at the same time."
The more he says, the less sense Chuuya can make out of it, but he lets the fox speak, not
sure what he'd ask about first if he stopped him now.
"It looks like a jewel." Right now, Dazai sounds nostalgic, his gaze distant. "No bigger than a
pearl, but worth more than the biggest treasure humans could ever gather with their riches. It
holds our feelings, but it doesn't conceal them. It gives us our powers without restraining
them and it keeps our souls safe from the forces of this world that would try to corrupt them.
That jewel – always a part of us but never one with us – is our heart, power, soul, and none of
it.”
How can it…?
“It's our life that it holds."
It's hard for Chuuya to imagine, to understand how someone so powerful can be born with
life that seems so... fragile. A jewel that can be lost.
"Kitsunes live for as long as they keep their lives safe, always closer or hidden where no one
except for them would find it, and when it's destroyed, we die."
A shiver runs down Chuuya’s spine. "But what does that have to do with...?" The redhead
searches Dazai's face again, but he can't find his answers in the maze of memories written on
it, memories the redhead hasn't seen, doesn't know. "You're alive, so why...?"
Dazai's hand comes up to cup Chuuya's cheek, his touch gentle, so careful it hurts in a
completely different way than being hit.
"Because I shouldn't be."
Chuuya’s blood runs cold, throat tightening while his eyes widen to their limits.
"Because I died."
Chuuya feels dizzy, his mind full of questions and worry, full of disbelief and—
"What?" It's choked out through a thick lump in his throat, because he has to ask, even if
every word is a struggle. Dazai never stops smiling, his hand still on the redhead's cheek,
grounding. "N–no, you're alive." Chuuya says, forcing himself to believe it because it can't be
anything else, not again. "I can feel you, you're—"
"I'm here, Chuuya." Dazai soothes him, both hands cupping his face to help the boy calm
down. "I'm not dead."
"Then what...?"
What did he mean before?

The kitsune presses a slow kiss to Chuuya's forehead before taking his hands away, stripping
the human of the comforting touch. Even his tails aren't around the boy anymore, hidden
away behind Dazai's back and resting on the futon, unmoving.
"It was a long time ago, I only had three tails back then."
His voice is calm as he tells the story, but his body feels resigned – tails never even twitching,
ears turned to the sides and almost buried under the dark locks, his eye empty. Slowly, the fox
slides his left arm out of his kimono, the material falling down his side and revealing his
chest, bandaged all around and down to his wrist.
"I was careless and angered the wrong god, and he wasn't the merciful type. He destroyed my
sphere of life and so... I died. Or I should have."
With wide eyes, Chuuya watches how the bandages disappear in the blue flames, climbing
from Dazai's wrist to his arm, to his chest, revealing more and more skin…
It's not normal scars that were hiding under the white material until now, it's not wounds or
anything Chuuya knows how to name. It's... black lines stretching across fair skin, knotting
and crossing the most over where the redhead knows Dazai's heart is beating. It's all over his
chest, clawing down his arm, up behind his neck.
It looks like cracks painted on his body.
It looks like broken glass.
"That god," Daza continues, still as calm as ever, but with sorrow creeping into his words.
"He shattered my sphere, my life." Chuuya doesn't want to think of it this way, but he can see
the marks that look exactly like what the other says. Like his whole being was shattered. "He
killed my life and it should have killed me."
Nearly all the bandages are gone, only the ones around his head remain.
"But it didn't. It broke my soul and left these marks, it released my powers into the abyss that
my body turned into, but... it couldn't kill the whole me, only a part of me. A part that I can
never gain back."
it’s…
Chuuya doesn't know what to say, the questions that littered his mind are gone, leaving one
thought only—
Dazai died. Almost died. Really died, but... didn't.
He's whole and he's not, he's here but there was once a chance that he wouldn't be. A chance
they would have never met, never spoken, never—
Blue eyes follow the labyrinth of black cracks, of lines cutting so deep, yet, leaving no scars,
only smooth skin, tainted by the emptiness of broken pieces held together, and…
"It must have hurt." The words slip from Chuuya’s lips without the boy knowing it, a quiet
whisper ringing in the cold air as his hand reaches out to trail a small line on Dazai's wrist,
and when he touches it…
It's cold.
So, so cold.
(Like the hole torn in the kitsune's soul.)
"It did." The fox says, watching the boy gaze upon the black lines scattered on his body, the
same lines that cracked through his sphere before it broke and the ones that cut his soul into
pieces. "But not anymore."
"I..." Chuuya searches for words, for his own feelings. "But I'm not scared."
He's confused and it pains him to know Dazai suffered through something so unimaginable.
His fingers did twitch when he touched the cold, dark line on the others body and Chuuya
will hate himself for it later, but—
"Dazai, I'm not scared, I promise."
And the fox smiles, apologetic. "That wasn't the part that will scare you, little human."
His hand covers Chuuya's, gently pushing it away from his skin, and it feels like being
deprived of the anchor keeping the redhead grounded.
"I said that when my life broke, my powers were released into the void that was left inside of
me and..." He brushes the bandages over his head. "...it's not about what you will see, but
about what you will feel."
The blue flames slowly burn the bandages away, revealing the side of Dazai's face Chuuya
has never seen. There's a sharp, black line stretching from under his chin to his forehead,
right through his right eye.
The eye that he keeps closed.
"There's a reason why kitsunes need a part of themselves to be separated from themselves,
because the stronger we grow – the more power we gain – the harder it is to contain. I can
keep it inside of me, I can keep it under control enough not to use it when I don't mean to—
But it always shows. It's raw spiritual power, something that many can't bear to be close to
and only very few can... not fear it."
He doesn't know why, it's against his own will, but Chuuya's breath has been getting faster
ever since the last of Dazai's bandages disappeared. There's dread creeping into his heart
despite how much the redhead tries to fight it, to force it away because he isn't going to fear
him. And he doesn’t even understand why this feeling is growing in his chest.
It’s only Dazai that Chuuya sees.

It’s only Dazai that is with him, here, so why—
"I know you won't mean to, Chuuya. I know you don't want to be scared."
Not of Dazai, not of his partner.
"But you will and I understand."
It all happens so slow and, yet, too fast.
Dazai's right eye flutters open and now two red orbs are staring at Chuuya, two crimson
jewels shining with emotion and power – one on the white sky behind it, and one on the
black one, with blue flashing behind the red like a lightning. It holds a certain type of beauty,
a dangerous and wild charm that takes over whoever gazes upon it.
...but it's a beauty that is frightening, freezing one's blood and making them wish for an end.
And it's everything Chuuya promised not to feel, everything he doesn't want to ever feel
towards Dazai.
...but his body reacts before he knows it.
He doesn't know when, but he moves away, his body trembling in fear and eyes watering
with tears that he doesn't need, because he knows Dazai won't hurt him. He trusts the kitsune
and yet—
"I—" It's difficult to breathe, to think, the floor under him is hard, a reminder of how far he
has moved away from the futon, from his partner. "I don't—"
And the most cruel part?
Dazai still smiles at him.
He's still as gentle as ever, as patient – all while both of his eyes look like they're about to
shatter, like the sorrow he feels is so deep it even hurts the part of his soul that has already
been killed.
"It's okay, Chibi."
No, it's not.
"I know."
But he shouldn't have to. He wasn't supposed to be right, not about this.
Dazai wasn't supposed to be punished for showing the real him to Chuuya, not by the redhead
himself. Chuuya's instincts tell him to run, to get as far as possible from the threat before
him, while his heart aches for Dazai. It aches because Chuuya isn’t strong enough to control
his own body, he isn’t strong enough to not be afraid, to see past the illusion of danger.
...but his instincts aren't only about running away. Never have been.
Sometimes, they’re about protecting those Chuuya loves, sometimes they're about standing
up for the weak. And sometimes, they're about comforting the partner that looks so hurt, it
makes the boy want to cry for him.
It's a battle that takes place inside his mind, his heart, his veins. A battle between conflicting
needs, a fight with the urge to save himself from the looming danger when—
Oh, but Dazai looks miserable, though he tries to hide it.
It is only now that Chuuya notices how still his tails lie behind him, how both of his fox ears
are flat on his head, how he doesn't even try to move and reach for Chuuya. How he’s letting
the boy get as far away as he wants to.
"I..."
How could Chuuya have done this to him?
"I'm sorry." The redhead forces his body to move, even if it's slow. "I'm sorry."
Even if it takes him all the time in the world, he will reach his partner.
"Dazai, I'm—"
The fox stays still, letting the boy come closer on his own, until he's kneeling right in front of
him, legs almost touching.
"I'm so sorry."
Chuuya's hands tremble as he reaches up to Dazai's face, fingers hovering over the skin for a
long time as the redhead tries to calm himself. Too long, Chuuya thinks, but he has to do this,
no matter how long it takes, no matter how much every fibre of his being is telling him to
flee.
Eventually, he does reach his partner.
His hands – cold or hot, Chuuya doesn't know anymore – settle on the cold skin and like this,
he can feel how Dazai's breathing isn't his usual, steady pattern. It's shallow, slower than it
should be, like he's fighting to stay calm and not show how he’s affected by it, too. Chuuya
feels icy needles under his left palm, right where the black line pierces through Dazai's face,
but he won't mind it.
He doesn't mind.
Let it freeze him, let it burn him – he won't let go.
"I'm sorry." He repeats, looking straight into the red eyes and feeling so small under the black
and blue thunderstorm behind the crimson moon of Dazai's right eye. But that feeling is
nothing compared to the warmth blooming in his chest when the fox's ears flinch up slightly,
a movement small enough to almost go unnoticed.
The memories of the night he spent in Dazai's arms, of all the times the kitsune didn't give up
on him despite the darkness swallowing Chuuya's mind – everything comes back, everything
fights with the power that seems intent on pushing Chuuya away.
"I'm sorry that I'm scared." The redhead whispers, his voice trembling with emotions.
"It's not your fault, Chuuya—"
Oh, how much that answer hurts in its truth.
"—I understand—"
How unfair it is in its sincerity.
"—You don't have to do this." Dazai assures him. "It's okay."
"No, it's not." Chuuya says quickly. "I..." He swallows, a single tear falling down his cheek,
but not from fear—
It's a tear full of regret for the feelings he couldn't control. The feelings he can't control.
"I'm sorry that I'm scared, but..." His hold on Dazai's face is firm and his voice may shake,
but Chuuya doesn’t hesitate. Not anymore. "...I want to stay."
It's not easy to fight against one's instincts, but Chuuya does it as he leans closer, sealing their
lips in a gentle kiss. It's only a soft brush, one that doesn't last because Dazai doesn't push and
Chuuya pulls away away to say it clearly—
"I still want you."
—because he does. He has for a long time and he always will.
Dazai searches his face, he sees the smallest shivers, the tiniest shadows of fear dancing
across Chuuya's figure. "...I can cover it up." He offers Chuuya a weak smile. Dazai won't be
hurt by it, hiding himself is what he does.. "It'll be easier for you—"
"No." The redhead cuts him off. "I want it."
Chuuya moves up, his breath fanning over the cold skin, and when Dazai closes his eyes...
He feels a kiss pressed to his right eyelid, so gentle and lasting longer than eternity itself.
"I want you to hold me, Osamu."
Chapter End Notes

On the bright side, I could have ended the chapter at “Because I died” but I didn’t~
(it was very tempting tho)
ANYWAY, while in Japanese mythology kitsunes really do have that small orb, I
diverged from it A LOT in Dazai’s past. Because it shouldn’t be possible for a kitsune to
live after it’s destroyed, but I’ll be making a lot of my own rules sooo….
(Also, in case it wasn’t clear enough: his right eye is always red and the part that is
usually white is always black with blue lines/veins; his left eye is normal as always)
ANOTHER ANYWAY—
Chuuya is trying so hard to comfort Dazai despite being scared and I’m SO soft for this,
we’ll get their first time in the next chapter and it’s going to be EMOTIONAL for so
many reasons :')
The First Such Smile
Chapter Notes
"I want you to hold me, Osamu."
Dazai doesn't move, his hands don't reach for Chuuya, but the redhead can feel how the
kitsune sucks in a sharp breath, he can see how his ears flinch at the sound of his name.
When he pulls away, only enough to look into the other's eyes, Chuuya sees how wide they
are – there's surprise in them, affection and hope swirling in their crimson seas. There is
danger in the endless black and flashing blue in Dazai's right eye, the threat that can never be
subdued, and the redhead shivers at the sight, his body wanting to run while his mind needs
to stay.
Chuuya doesn't know how to fight it, how to only look at the undeniable beauty of those eyes
and ignore the threats Dazai's powers scream at him. He doesn't know, but he'll fight until he
finds the answer, no matter how terrifying and difficult the process may be.
Because even if Chuuya can't control his fears, Dazai's touch always brings him comfort.
Because despite everything, Chuuya knows where he feels safe, and it's always in Dazai's
arms, wrapped in his tails.
The kitsune looks at him in silence and it's not easy to hold the stare that freezes the blood in
his veins, but the redhead does it anyway. He focuses on the skin under his palms slowly
growing warmer, on the sounds of the fox's tails shuffling on the futon, quiet as if they’re too
shy to disturb the silence settled inside the room. He focuses on what he knows, on what he
believes, because even if Chuuya can't trust himself with this – he trusts Dazai.
Slowly, the fox's hands slide from his thighs, moving up Chuuya's legs, their touch ghosting
on his skin through the fabric of his kimono without ever meeting the redhead's body directly.
They hover over his hips for what feels like hours before settling there, not exactly shy but
ever so uncertain, a thousand questions and worries flowing through a single touch.
But only one is ever spoken.
"Are you sure?"
There's no expectations in Dazai's voice, he doesn't push Chuuya to accept him, nor does he
blame the boy for rejecting his true self. He only asks for one thing: for honesty.
And for Chuuya, answering is as simple as breathing, as the one act that gives him life.
"I am."
Th kitsune takes a deep breath, his fingers gently pressing into his hips. "What if you don't
enjoy it?" It’s not that Dazai is scared, it feels more like he’s offering Chuuya a way out, an
option to go back to how it has always been: to being hidden.
"I will." Chuuya reassures him, sitting back on his heels and looking up at the fox. "As long
as I can feel you close." He pulls Dazai closer, feeling both an icy shiver running down his
spine and a burning fire spreading in his chest when their faces are barely a breath apart. "Just
don't stop holding me close."
Dazai isn't sure if it's the words that push him forward or the stubborn determination dancing
with fear in the clearest skies of Chuuya's eyes, but he lets it happen.
It’s too much to stay apart when Chuuya’s honesty is pulling him in.
When someone accepts him.
His hand tightens on the redhead's hips when their mouths meet again, pulling the boy closer
as one of Dazai’s arms supports his back, and laying him back down on the futon, never
letting their bodies be apart. The kiss is slow, tender, a mixture of emotions they don't dare to
voice.
It's asking for reassurance, it's asking for care, for affection, for a place where they can feel
safe.
And it's a promise.
To believe and to never let go. To see each other.
Their lips stay locked for a long time as Chuuya's hands tangle in the brown locks, as Dazai's
tails brush his legs and arms, his sides, everywhere they can just to let the redhead feel their
presence. The rush from before isn't completely gone, but it's much calmer now, waiting for
the ice of fear to melt.
It's Dazai who seeks the other man first, sliding his lips against Chuuya's a little stronger,
asking if the redhead is ready, if he truly wants it—
And Chuuya does.
He wishes to be ready.
With a soft sigh, Chuuya parts his lips, letting the kitsune slide his tongue inside – not as
rough as before, not as deep – letting his fangs graze his sensitive skin. His eyes are closed,
and Chuuya loathes the fact that it helps with calming his nerves, but he focuses on what he
feels, not what he thinks.
And he doesn't try to trick his own mind.
He doesn’t try to convince himself the bandages are still there.
Where his kimono loosens, when he feels Dazai's chest pressed against his own – it's not the
bandages, but the other's skin that he feels, and it's cold, still yet to warm up from the touch.
It's meant to be cold, Chuuya is meant to sense and know about the black scars that cover his
partner's body. He won't pretend they're not there.
He wants to feel how freezing cold they are and how Chuuya is warming them up with his
own body, how he's warming Dazai up.
The redhead can't see the lines scattered across the fox's body but he can make the kitsune
feel him, arching into the body above him and letting Dazai know that he isn’t running away.
That Chuuya wants to be closer, let Dazai know he's here.
As their kiss grows deeper, the hunger from before slowly creeping into every contact they
share, Dazai's hands slide from the redhead's hips to his waist, to the belt holding his kimono
closed. He doesn't untie it right away, his fingers feeling the boy's stomach over the material
before carefully reaching for the knot of his belt.
Dazai sucks at Chuuya's lower lip as he pushes the kimono open, silky material sliding down
his body and resting on the futon. It leaves the redhead naked, but not bare. The fox's tails
move to cover the skin on his thighs, hips, and arms when Dazai slides Chuuya's clothes all
the way off.
As soon as he can, the redhead returns his hands to his partner, fingers finding the dark locks
and the soft ears. Dazai doesn't stop kissing him as his hands roam over Chuuya's body,
feeling the warm skin under his palms as his lips trail down the other's jaw and neck. He
kisses and paints the pearl canvas with dark marks, but doesn't bite.
Not now, not yet.
He doesn't want to scare the redhead more than he already did, willingly or not, he wants him
to feel safe, he wants to treasure him. Because he can feel every small shiver and he knows
it's not all pleasure that rocks the smaller body, no matter how much both of them wish it
would be. Dazai knows fear lingers in Chuuya even now, he can sense the fight raging in the
boy’s mind.
He wishes he could soothe it away.
But how can he, when he is the source of it?
His mouth moves over Chuuya's body, lips trailing over the hot skin, sucking at the boy's
pulse point as his hands slide up his thighs, his hips. He lets his fangs graze over the sharp
collarbones, basking in the soft moans it draws from the redhead. Trembling fingers tug at his
hair and caress his fox ears when Dazai moves to Chuuya's chest, licking one of his nipples
as his hand plays with the other.
Moans and soft gasps echo in the room, louder with every tease, every roll of the kitsune's
tongue. Chuuya's legs squeeze the other's hips, his muscles flexing as the fox explores his
body, finding his sensitive spots and driving the redhead crazy with every caress.
One of Dazai's tails strokes the red hair, letting Chuuya nuzzle into the fur for reassurance
when he needs it, while another reaches out somewhere next to the futon for the metal bowl
with the oils.
It’s a foreign feeling to let himself be free, to be exposed and not hide behind the thick
material that seals his body. Dazai can feel his own body heat up, his desires slipping out of
his hold and his fangs pressing harder into the inside of Chuuya's thigh where he’s been
trailing worshipping kisses.
He knows it doesn't hurt. He knows the redhead likes it, he can hear the moan that seems to
ask for more—
But then their eyes meet.
And it's like breaking a spell they have cast on themselves.
Chuuya doesn't run, but his body stiffens as he tries to hold back a whimper that still manages
to escape him. His eyes are wide, lips pressed into a thin line and his heart beat halts for a
traitorous second. Dazai is already starting to question whether what they’re doing is right,
whether it’s really what Chuuya deserves when—
"C...come here." The redhead stretches his arm to him, breathing heavily from both the
touches burning his body and the tremor of fear that shook his heart just a second ago. "Don't
stop, just..."
He's enjoying this, he really is—
"...just come here."
—but he needs Dazai closer, he needs to feel his warmth and cold on his skin.
The kitsune doesn't wait to move but he does it slowly, letting Chuuya get used to how much
closer their faces get, letting him get used to his gaze. His arms rest on the sides of Chuuya's
head, his tails still pressing into the insides of his thighs and everywhere else they reach as
the boy cups his face, pulling Dazai into a kiss full of insecurities and need.
"Chuuya—" Dazai tries to speak, he tries to ask whether they should stop, or if he should at
least cover himself again.
"I'm fine." Comes a breathy answer, the redhead’s body relaxing when Dazai rests their
foreheads together. "Just... stay here. I want it, but I need you here."
There's worry in the blue eyes, but there's also lust, there's desire that doesn't waver under the
darkness looming over him. There’s courage in them, just like there are shadows.
"Okay." Dazai whispers, already pressing kisses to Chuuya's forehead, his cheeks. "I'll stay
here."
How can he deny the boy his wishes?
How can he undermine the efforts Chuuya is putting into this, into them?
He focuses on Chuuya's neck and shoulders as he reaches out for the oil, covering his fingers
and warming it up before sliding his hand between the boy's legs. He's gentle with every
touch despite his instincts pushing him to claim, to devour what is laid before him so openly.
So accepting.
He listens to the moans, the gasps and quiet chants of his name falling from Chuuya's lips. He
listens to his heartbeat as his fingers circle the redhead's entrance before slowly pushing
inside.
He takes in all the signs the human does and doesn't want to show.
Because Chuuya's mind is a mess, just like his heart.
He craves the touch, his legs opening wider when he feels a finger slide inside, his arms
tightening around Dazai's head and neck. Every kiss pressed to his body burns, every graze of
fangs on his skin sends electricity to his very soul. Even the fur covering him all around is
more stimulating than it's tickling.
Chuuya's head is thrown back as Dazai stretches him open and he doesn't try to hold his voice
back. He knows Dazai needs to hear him, he knows Dazai needs to know how much pleasure
Chuuya feels, because he's sure the kitsune can also notice everything else.
Like the shivers when he feels Dazai's lashes brush his skin, when his soul senses the eyes –
the eye – roaming over his body even if the boy can't see them. Like the heartbeat that grows
erratic but skips every now and then, like the storm of emotion inside his head.
It's everything Chuuya doesn't want to be seen, everything he doesn’t want to acknowledge is
there.
It's everything he's covering up with showing how much he wants Dazai.
He moans the kitsune's name as his fingers work him open, he listens to the sweet words
whispered into his skin between soft kisses and asks for more, even if he has to squeeze his
eyes shut to stop his survival instincts from taking over.
When Dazai's fingers leave him empty, a pleading whine escapes Chuuya, eyes wet with tears
of pleasure half–lidded and searching for his partner. For the kitsune that holds him close. For
Dazai that he—
"O–Osamu..."
Dazai kisses his words away, his body pressing closer as he covers his cock with oils, his tails
gently pushing Chuuya's legs to open wider and keeping them like that. A quiet mantra of
'please' is whispered between the kisses, the boy’s body arching and asking to feel full, to be
connected with his partner.
“I’m here.” The kitsune murmurs into Chuuya’s lips, a distant and suppressed growl ringing
in his voice. “It’s okay, Chuuya. I’m here.”
When Dazai presses into his hole again, Chuuya's eyes flutter open, widening at the feel of
being stretched more than ever before, and then they fall shut one more time. His head turns
to the side, letting the kitsune plant gentle kisses on his cheek, behind his ear, on his neck.
He can feel something stroking his hair – a hand or Dazai's tail, he isn't sure – and he leans
into it, relaxing his body and letting the kitsune press deeper. Dazai's breath is hot on his skin,
the growls he tries to force down loud in Chuuya's ears.
Dazai’s hips move in small thrusts, pushing deeper inside until he's buried all the way and the
redhead chokes on how full he feels. How everything burns with pleasure, how his blood
flows in his veins like life itself. Dazai is all around him, body and tails keeping him still and
pinned to the futon, he's filling him inside and all Chuuya wishes for is—
"Osamu..."
—to see him, to let him know how good he feels.
The kitsune is still, waiting for Chuuya to get used to the stretch and for the faint sting of
discomfort to leave his body. When the feeling of lips brushing his skin isn’t enough
anymore, the redhead opens his eyes to search for Dazai and when he sees him, close and
covered in dark shadows cast by hair falling around his face—
His eyes are closed.
He's here, so close, supporting himself on the arms on both sides of Chuuya's head, but he
isn't looking at him. And Chuuya knows why. He knows why and it fills him with warmth at
how much the kitsune cares, just like it pains his heart to know Dazai is hiding for Chuuya’s
sake while he shouldn't have to.
He should never feel the need to hide.
He should never be forced to do it by the traitorous instincts the redhead doesn’t know how to
control.
"Look at me..." Chuuya whispers, voice quiet but unwavering, his thumbs rubbing Dazai's
cheeks, the black scar that's still so cold under his touch.
Slowly, the kitsune’s eyes flutter open, looking down at Chuuya's chest for a long time before
meeting his partner's gaze, but then they do—
Why is it so unfair?
Why can't he control his own reactions?
Why?!
Chuuya’s body flinches, head pushing back into the pillow, his breathing speeding up despite
his best efforts and—
"I'm sorry."
—his heart sinks when Dazai says it, a gentle smile on his lips.
Because it’s an apology that shouldn’t have found its way here, an apology that doesn’t
belong between the two of them. It’s sincere, honest, and cruelly fitting in with the kind smile
Dazai wears.
"No." Chuuya shakes his head. "Don't say that."
There isn't anything to apologise for, there isn't anything to regret, to feel bad about. It’s only
them right now, right here.
"I'm okay." Pleasure mixes with fear, desire with the instinct to run, all of it swirling inside
Chuuya's chest until he feels like he's about to burst. "I want this. I want you, all of you,
so..."
He takes a deep breath, his lips stretching into a smile shining with affection, with trust, with
truth.
“...keep looking at me."
With the eye that Chuuya knows, with the eye he's drawn to.
And with the eye that scares him.
"Chuuya is too kind." Dazai whispers, his clean hand stroking the red hair gently, as if the
redhead would fall apart any moment. "Such a stubborn, little human." His voice is fond,
nothing like the teasing and alluring tone Chuuya is used to hearing when they’re this close.
“You are the stubborn one.” A smile blooming on Chuuya’s lips is a more teasing reflection
of Dazai’s expression now, the corners trembling cheekily. “Always talking and never— ah!”
The first thrust sends sparks of electricity down the boy's body, pleasure knocking the breath
out of his lungs. His fingers dig into Dazai's skin before they slide down his neck and he can't
really see anymore with how blurred his vision is but—
Dazai never looks away.
His hips move in a slow rhythm, slow but deep, letting the redhead feel every slide on his
inner walls, every hit to his prostate. All while his gaze lingers on Chuuya's face, always
searching for the blue eyes even if they're closed from the overwhelming pleasure.
And Chuuya can feel it.
It's like icy needles picking at his skin, not hurting per se, but never softening their touch
either. Like this, with his eyes closed and body searching for pleasure, arching in Dazai’s
arms, it's almost easy to forget, almost easy to let his desires and needs take over. Because
he's so full and every snap of Dazai's hips sends a hot wave through Chuuya's insides, his legs
shaking with each thrust...
But he has to look.
He wants to see his partner holding him, he wants to see Dazai – his ruffled hair, his
twitching fox ears, how his fangs flash from behind his lips – and so, no matter how many
times his eyes close, or how much they water as the kitsune pushes him closer to the edge,
Chuuya continues to try to look. To meet Dazai's red orbs piercing through his soul, with all
the white and black depths stretching behind them.
He continues to chant his name, listening to the low growls it earns him. The line between
fear and excitement blurs in his mind, the difference between danger and anticipation
nonexistent. There's only Dazai, only them, together.
Sobs of pleasure start to wreck his body when the kitsune thrusts just a little harder, pushing
inside deeper than before. Chuuya's toes curl at the feeling, his legs held open by Dazai's
tails, his nails leaving red crescents on the other's neck and shoulders. He pulls Dazai into a
kiss as he feels the heat in his gut growing stronger, so close to his release if he only gets a
small push—
Their lips meet in a hungry lock, more tongue and fangs than before, desperate for more, for
what they crave for. Dazai's hand wraps around Chuuya's aching cock, stroking him in time
with his thrusts and finally pushing the redhead over the edge.
Chuuya’s eyes roll back, his vision all white, body arching as he spills on his stomach and his
insides clenching around the cock still thrusting into him. He moans and cries from
overstimulation, trying to catch a breath while Dazai continues to kiss him, his hips moving
quicker and quicker until Chuuya can feel hot wetness spilling inside him.
It's almost too much, the sensation together with the storm of feelings in his heart.
When the kitsune stills and lets go of Chuuya's lips, they're both panting, bodies tangled as
Dazai presses their foreheads together, whistepring in a quiet tone—
"Thank you."
—it's not the first truth he says to Chuuya, but it may just be the most honest one.
There's so much more hiding behind these two simple words, there's so much that he wants to
convey, but no words would ever be enough. Not for this. Nothing can describe the feeling
blooming in Dazai's chest when he can admire Chuuya with both of his eyes, look at the haze
of pleasure and satisfaction on his face and hold him close without having to hide.
Because no one has ever smiled at him like Chuuya, no one has ever seen him like the
beautiful and brave human does right now.
"Don't thank me for wanting to see you." Chuuya whispers, exhaustion ringing in his voice as
he calms down from his high. One last time, he presses a kiss to Dazai's right eyelid before
nuzzling into his neck, listening to the quiet purrs ringing from the kitsune’s chest and…
Feeling safe.
—
The first thing that Chuuya registers is always warmth.
He’s used to waking up to the feeling of Dazai’s tails covering his body, to the feeling of his
partner’s body pressed close. Sometimes, the fox would play with his hair until Chuuya
wakes up, sometimes he’s humming a tune the redhead remembers by heart by now.
Each morning starts with these gentle touches and sweet words.
Today isn’t any different.
What brings Chuuya out of the dark embrace of his sleep is the feeling of fingers caressing
his cheek, a touch delicate as a feather. There’s a quiet shuffling sound of tails rubbing his
back, hot breath fanning over his skin and hair.
As his eyes open lazily, his mind still clouded by sleep, Chuuya sees a black pattern mapping
Dazai’s chest, the cluster of lines over his heart that brings back memories of last night and…
With a small smile, the redhead leans into the hand caressing his cheek. “Morning.” He
mumbles, tilting his head back to search for Dazai’s gaze.
The kitsune is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow and supporting his head on his
hand, ears lowered slightly in the mop of dark hair and—
“Good morning, my sweet Chibi.”
—with bandages covering half of his face.
Sure, it’s only his right eye that is hidden behind the material, the rest of his body only
covered by a loosened kimono and his tails, but it’s enough for a pout to start forming on
Chuuya’s lips. Half of it is directed at Dazai, and another half at himself for feeling the tingle
of relief at the sight.
“You didn’t have to cover it.” The haze of sleep is slowly leaving his words, but a small
grumble remains as he nuzzles into Dazai’s chest,
The fox’s tails push him closer, his fingers sliding into the red hair. “It’s easier like this.”
Maybe, but it won’t stop Chuuya from arguing.
“I wouldn’t mind it.”
A chuckle mixed with low purrs rings in the boy’s ears, his lips involuntarily curling up when
Dazai plants a kiss on the top of his head. “I know.” He murmurs. “How are you feeling?”
Chuuya lets out a sigh, choosing not to push any further this early. It was difficult enough to
keep his composure yesterday, when he was fully awake, and even then he failed one too
many times at it. Right now, Chuuya isn’t sure if he’s ready to see Dazai’s right eye, to feel
its icy gaze on himself. It’s true that he wouldn’t mind, but… cruel as it may be, it is easier
like this.
“Sore.” Comes an honest answer, Chuuya’s fingers lazily mapping the labyrinth of balck
lines “In a good way, but I don’t wanna move.”
There’s a pleasant ache in his lower back, something that Chuuya welcomes happily. He’s
also grateful to feel clean, considering how he dozed off without thinking about the mess
inside of him last night. Too much happened, his body and mind having been pushed to new
limits. Dazai must have taken care of cleaning, as well as dressing him in his night clothes.
“Should we stay in bed the whole day~?” The fox teases, a hopeful note in his voice.
“No.” He’s not that lazy, even if a part of Chuuya is considering taking Dazai up on that
offer. “But we don’t have to move yet.” For now, feeling the kitsune's skin on his own is all
the boy needs.
“Hmm, I can’t say I dislike Chibi being so clingy.” Well, he’s allowed to be a little needy
after everything, okay? “I wonder how cute he’ll be when he takes my knot one day~”
Yeah, that will probably be—
Chuuya’s eyes shoot open, head snapping up to look at the fox. “Your what?!”
Dazai’s eye flashes red with amusement, his ears perked up as he’s holding back a laugh. He
grins at Chuuya, fangs showing and reminding the redhead of how they felt on his skin just a
few hours back.
“I still have many things to show you, little human. Good ones, this time.”
His arm wraps around Chuuya’s middle a heartbeat before Dazai rolls on his back, pulling the
redhead on top of him. A blush starts to bloom on th redhead’s face, mouth opening and
closing as Chuuya tries to take this very new and very unexpected information in.
“But—”
More things to show him?
A knot? As in…?
As it sinks down on him, Chuuya’s brows furrow, his thoughts goin back to last night. “I
didn’t feel…”
Well, he felt a lot and now there is supposed to be more?!
Dazai’s tails stroke his back and thighs as the fox cups his face, a softer note in his voice. “I
figured it would be too much for your first time, especially with all the… emotions that were
already there.”
Which Chuuya appreciates, he really does, even if his lips twitch at the reminder of how he
wasn’t able to control his own fears. He also appreciates that Dazai is telling him about it
while they’re just talking, and not in the middle of doing something else.
However…
“How have you never mentioned it before?!”
It may have been the first time they went all the way, but it’s not like they haven’t done
anything intimate before. It’s not the first time Chuuya saw Dazai reaching the peak, so he
just assumed that’s all there was to it. And if that’s not true, then why has nothing ever
happened before?
“I’m telling you now~”
Ah, yes. Very helpful, very considerate.
What else should Chuuya be mentally preparing himself for? A rut?
“So… what?” He isn’t sure which question to ask first, just like he isn’t sure whether he has
enough courage to say all of that out loud. Being intimate isn’t nearly as embarrassing as
talking about it, as it seems. “You didn’t want to…” Gods, why can’t he just shut up? “...knot
me?”
Is that how it works?
Dazai can choose not to do it if he doesn’t feel like it? Or maybe it wasn’t good enough?
Both options sound equally possible, but Chuuya can only hope it’s not the latter.
He remembers the kitsune worrying about him not enjoying it because of fear, but what if all
of that ended up bad for Dazai instead? It did seem like he wanted it, but what if…
Despite Chuuya’s insecurities, Dazai looks baffled at the question, like he hasn’t even
thought of that possibility.
Which is a good sign, right?
Blinking his confusion away, the kitsune huffs a laugh before his hands settle on the small of
Chuuya’s back. “Of course I did.” There’s no hesitation in his words, not even a hint of
teasing, which makes it all too easy for the boy’s face to heat up at his words because—
“I would love to knot Chuuya for hours.”
—how does one react to something like that? Hell, is that even possible, or is Dazai talking
out of his mind?
“But…” The fox trails off, humming with satisfaction when he feels the redhead hiding his
face in his chest with an embarrassed groan. “...you’d need more preparation for that or it
would hurt.”
Right.
He did say something about it being too much for his first time, but how intense is it, then?
Is it safe?
Is it good—
“...but you’ll do it?” If Chuuya focuses on the tails stroking his legs, it’s almost enough to
distract him from the wave of embarrassment washing over him. He doesn’t want to sound
overly eager, he doesn’t even know whether he is eager or not. It’s still too new for him, still
too foreign of a concept to wrap his mind around it.
Though, a part of him may be growing interested.
“Oh, my~” Dazai sings over his head, because of course he would. “If I had known how
needy Chuuya was, I would have made sure to fill him—”
“Mghh—!” On second thought, maybe he doesn’t need to know. “Forget I asked!”
“I can’t~”
Dazai tone lowers, satisfaction and intent tasted in every word, every slow slide of his hands
down Chuuya’s thighs and in the way his tails cover the boy’s body, almost possessively.
Well, maybe more than ‘almost’.
“I can’t forget the first time Chuuya begs for my knot~”
HUH?
“I did not beg!”
Flipping them around, Dazai cages the redhead between his body and the futon. Brown locks
like a waterfall around his face and a single crimson eyes shining from behind the shadows.
“Oh, but you will~”
(When the time comes.)
—
“You don’t have to believe me, but…” Chuuya’s head rests on his crossed arms draped over
the edge of the wooden bathtub, his eyes fluttering open as he looks at Dazai. “I think it’s
beautiful.”
The kitsune, uncaring about his clothes getting wet, sits on the floor next to the bathtub.
“Hm?” His eye looks up from where his fingers trace an invisible pattern on Chuuya’s lower
back underwater. “What is?”
“Your eye.”
His hand stops for a moment, frozen by the sincerity of Chuuya’s words.
Dazai doesn’t look surprised, not really, it’s doubt that washes over his face, a lack of
understanding of how the redhead could say something like this without it feeling like a lie.
It’s as if he’s waiting for Chuuya to say something else, as if only this much alone can’t be
the truth.
It’s not that Dazai hates what the bandages conceal. It’s a part of himself – a reminder of the
past, of his mistakes and of what he has lost – and he doesn’t hide it out of shame, he does it
for convenience. Having everyone who lays their eyes on him scared without ever stepping
closer is tempting, but it limits what Dazai can do, which tricks he can use. It’s tempting, but
Dazai doesn’t need it, his own strength and reputation are more than enough.
Besides, he doesn’t like showing too much of himself to the world.
When needed, he works among the shadows, lurking where no one can see or sense him, or
he destroys his enemies without needing to bare his cards before them. So no, Dazai doesn’t
hate his balck marks or his right eye, but to say it’s anything more than terrifying is…
Well, new.
Unbelievable.
“I see.”
But he doesn’t want to argue with Chuuya, not when he knows the redhead isn’t one to
change his mind easily. He doesn’t want to ruin the quiet moment they share here, even if his
mind can’t wrap around what Chuuya has just said.
The redhead huffs, rolling his eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Ah, Chibi knows me so well~”
“I do.” The unintentional easiness with which the words slip from Chuuya’s lips has Dazai
baffled for a moment, before a smile tugs at his own lips. “But it doesn’t change my mind.”
Dazai only hums in response, willing to let the matter go when—
“Does… does this mean you’re, I don’t know, immortal now?” Chuuya tries to sound
nonchalant, but the curiosity – and concern; hesitation, even – woven into his words ring
clear. “Because you…”
…‘already died’, huh?
“No one is truly immortal, little human. There are still ways to harm and kill me.” Chuuya’s
fingers tighten around his arms, then relax shortly after. “Destroying the orb is simply the
most common way to deal with kitsunes.”
The quickest, the easiest, the one that is supposed to always work.
Until it doesn’t.
“Do you know why it didn’t work?”
Dazai arches a teasing brow at that. “Planning to get rid of me once you get tired of my
cock?”
“Daz— ugh…” With a groan, Chuuya turns around, leaning with his back against the bathtub
and splashing water around. He glares at the fox, wrapping his arms around one of his knees.
“I didn’t before, but now I just might.”
Chuckling at the half–hearted threat, Dazai props his arm on the edge of the wooden tub,
resting his head on his hand. “I don’t.” Shrugging, the kitsune extends his other arm to reach
Chuuya, playing with the long, wet strand of red hair between his fingers. “Fate, luck, a spell
or a curse… I never found the answer.”
And he stopped trying to search for it a long time ago, never truly caring what it was that
saved him back then.
It happened, end of the story.
“But I’ve been told that without the orb I’m…”
His fangs flas from behind his smirk, dark eye blooming with red and his tails raising behind
him like white flame in an exaggerated show of dramatics that the redhead finds almost
amusing, considering where they are and how one of them is naked.
“...no longer a kitsune.”
Chuuya blinks, confused. Then frowns. Then scoffs. “That’s bullshit. You’re still very much
an annoying fox.”
Another chuckle escapes from Dazai’s chest. “True, but people like to talk.”
“So there are others who know…?”
“Very few.” A sigh. “And you’re the second person ever to actually see it bare.”
Despite Chuuya’s best efforts at hiding it, Dazai doesn’t miss the faint blush painting itself on
the boy’s face, or how his shoulders relax, satisfied. But before Chuuya can ask about the
first person to have seen the black marks, the fox is already sending him a grin, tease and
playfulness settling back into his voice—
“So~” He muses. “About my present for Chibi’s birthday…”
Chapter End Notes
I’m a bit late because I had a deadline for my masters thesis today, sorry about that :’)
1. I BROKE MY OWN HEART WHEN I WROTE OUT THAT ‘I’M SORRY’ AND
THEN THAT ‘THANK YOU’ HAD ME SOBBING AND I KNOW I’M THE
AUTHOR BUT NFKNLFSEUGHBJNKSDNCFIFRK anyway I love them
2. Dazai is still very much a kitsune, I just HAD to make the joke referencing NLH
3. Let it be known that Dazai’s black scars glow with blue when he uses his spells and,
while they can't be seen in his fox form (they're under his fur), when he fights, they glow
and it DOES look like a blue pattern on his white fur WHICH IS VERY PRETTY IN
MY MIND I’LL HAVE YOU ALL KNOW
4. I don’t know if I’ll include Dazai’s rut in the story, but he has them once every few
years~
(if you’re a fan of knotting, then hehehe >:3

If not, don’t worry, there won’t actually be much of it)
A Present
Chapter Notes
“I’m sorry about that. I thought they would at least wait for me to wake up before going.”
Chuuya makes sure to say the last bit louder, glaring at the empty doorway from where he’s
leaning on the wall. There may not be anyone there right now, but he knows the other three
can hear him loud and clear, wherever they are in the house right now.
They could have waited or woken him up and not just—
“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Adam laughs while checking if the food is cooking correctly
over the small fire. “I was a bit surprised, sure, but it’s not that big of a deal.”
Considering how unfazed his uncle was about Dazai being a kitsune, it somewhat makes
sense for him not to be disturbed by this whole yōkai thing going on around him, but…
“You may be the only person ever to say using a teleportation spell for the first time is ‘not a
big deal’, you know?” Especially when he has never met the Akutagawas before this very
morning. Adam is way too calm for having been asked by a random demon to trust them with
their life like that. Could it be…? “Wait. Have you done that before?!”
With his arms crossed over his chest and furrowed brows, Chuuya stares at his uncle in
disbelief. He doesn’t think Adam has done it before, but he also didn’t know Adam would be
aware about yōka, not to mention being this casual about it, so maybe…?
“No, no.” The man waves his hand at him, chuckling. “That was my first. I swear.”
So he’s just weird, then – not weird and hiding way too many things from his past. What a…
relief?
“But I told you I’ve seen many things in my life.” Adam continues, sending Chuuya an
affectionate smile. “And your friend was very polite and explained everything. Although, his
face…”
Ah, yes.
Ryuu must have tried to appear friendly and ended up looking like he was in pain. Well, at
least Adam got to use the less nerve–wrecking method to get here. Ryuu’s spell can be
intimidating, sure, Chuuya still remembers his first time using it and it was something to step
into a wall of black smoke, but it’s not as violent as Dazai’s flames swallowing you whole.
He’s fine with it now, barely even batting an eye when the blue fire reaches for his skin, but
would have liked to be there to see his uncle’s reaction, smoke or fire, before or after.
“His face is always like that, but he’s a good guy.” Chuuya says, sighing and moving to help
Adam with taking out the plates and bowls. “Gin, his sister, is way better at being expressive,
but she doesn’t talk much.”
The older man nods, almost absentmindedly. “Interesting siblings, I must admit.”
“They are.” Not just because they’re demons. “I still wish they would have waited for me
instead of bothering you at the crack of dawn.”
The comment comes out as a half–annoyed grumble, which only makes Adam laugh as he’s
carefully moving their food from the pots. “Chuuya, it was not the crack of dawn.” The man
says, amused with the other’s definition of ‘early’. “I’ve been awake for a long time by the
time they got there.”
“But—”
“Plus…” Adam continues. “...it was a nice surprise, wasn’t it?”
Chuuya’s expression softens, his lips involuntarily curling up as he looks at the older man.
“Yeah.” Waking up to the smell he recognised as his uncle’s cooking and to the man waiting
for him with a bright smile was nice, especially on his birthday. “You should have made Ryuu
and Gin help out, though.”
“They offered, but from what I’ve heard from you before…” He trails off, shrugging, and
Chuuya understands that. He’s seen them cook, tasted their meals, and while they’ve gotten
somewhat better – Adam is a great cook, the sibling would have probably only bother him
here.
Obviously, he isn’t angry about Adam being here since morning, or about his uncle cooking
for Chuuya’s birthday, and he knows the Akutagawa siblings are always more than helpful.
He’s glad to spend some time with his uncle, to have a casual conversation about non–death
related matters. But he may still be sulking a little about not being there to see his expression
while using the spell to get here.
Though, again, a part of him did appreciate the surprise.
“Anyway…” Adam speaks again, looking at all the food in front of them, plates and bowls
ready to be taken to the main room Ryuu and Gin have prepared. “...that spell is quite
convenient, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
A lot, actually.
“So, is there a reason why you haven’t visited me since the last time when it’s so simple
now?”
…oh.
Chuuya did not expect that question. Now, after Adam has said it, it does sound like
something he would do, something he should do, and he definitely thought about that at some
point after their visit. But there was so much going on since then, so much to occupy his
mind with. All the mess in his head took a while to finally fade, getting used to his new
everyday life was a struggle in the beginning. It took a while for him to feel like himself
again, and when he did—
“I…”
—well, when his mind was finally calm, it was his heart that got lost. And then things with
Dazai escalated so fast, every day was keeping him occupied with one thing or another.
“...was busy?”
Which isn’t entirely a lie but, gods, does Chuuya not want to elaborate on that. He would
much rather get scolded for being a bad nephew and not visiting more often rather than
explain how exactly Dazai was keeping him busy.
The gods, unfortunately, don’t seem to be listening to his prayers today.
“Ah. Busy, hm?” Of course, Adam would know. It’s fine if he knows, just please don’t… “Is
it time for me to have the talk with you, kid?”
Bloody hell, please don’t.
Chuuya is ready to beg if he must.
The redhead can feel his cheeks heating up, a frown forming on his face because no, he is an
adult, he doesn’t need ‘the talk’. He even made sure Dazai wouldn’t leave any marks that
couldn’t be hidden under his kimono for today.
Does he enjoy seeing the kitsune’s claims on himself? Maybe.
Was Dazai sulking about it? Very much so.
Was Chuuya going to spend the day with his uncle while covered in dark marks and bites?
Absolutely not.
Adam is a kind man, with a… specific type of sense of humour, and the redhead just knows
his teasing would be much worse than the Akutagawas’. Plus, it’s Dazai who is the shameless
one here, Chuuya likes his sanity intact. Or as intact as it’s possible around here. Being
aware of all the marks that are hidden away is enough to have him squirming on the inside
while Adam is anywhere near.
“No, it’s not.” He blurts out, fighting with the urge to look away from the piercing gaze of the
older man. He’s enjoying this, isn’t he? His lips are fucking trembling with suppressed
laughter. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Nothing to talk about.”
Especially when there are just way too many things Chuuya feels should stay only between
him and Dazai. Like the bandages, like their past, like the fucking knot—
“Chuuya,” Even his voice is trembling right now. What is this Hell? “I’m perfectly fine with
you enjoying your time with your partner—”
Oh, gods. Please stop it.
“—but if you two are going to marry, I would like an invitation sent before the day and not on
it.”
Uncle Adam, too?!
“What’s with all of you and this marriage thing?!” Chuuya throws his hands up, mostly to
cover up his angry blush, but then he thinks about it again and… “You know what? Don’t
answer that, I’m not sure I want to know.”
The stubbornness in his voice is the last straw for Adam. The man’s laughter rings clear and
loud in the space between them as he ruffles Chuuya’s hair. “Is it so bad for this old man to
want to see his nephew get married happily one day?”
His words are too gentle and too honest for Chuuya to continue being mad, his frown turning
into a soft pout, a little awkward but full of joy the redhead can’t hide. What a dirty trick to
play at his heart strings. “You’re not that old.” He says, rolling his eyes.
“I’m also not saying you should wed today.” Adam adds, taking a deep breath to calm
himself. “I would just like to know about it in advance. When the time comes, of course.”
And he will, when that happens.
If that happens. Chuuya isn’t yet sure which one it’ll be.
For now, though, Chuuya prefers not to think about rushing through the fragile stability he’s
built for himself here, he wants to enjoy every second of it and make sure it’s something that
will last before he makes any more drastic decisions.
He may also be a little worried about how today will go. Of course, he’s more than happy
about Adam being here, however… The last time, Dazai barely even talked to him, as far as
Chuuya knows. The Akutagawa siblings are polite and shouldn’t be a problem, but don’t
know Adam at all. Then there’s the case with Kouyou, who should be here shortly, and
thinking about that is already giving Chuuya a headache – not because he doesn’t want her
here, he does, but because it means there will be all kinds of uncertain, and most likely
unstable, relationships in the same vicinity. Ryuu and Gin seem to be close to her, but her
relationship with Dazai is weird, like they get along but also don’t at the same time. She
should be fine with Adam, she was fine with Chuuya when they met for the first time, and his
uncle is very easy–going, he can befriend anyone.
Well, any human. Hopefully it extends to demons, too.
All in all, there’s a lot to worry about because Chuuya doesn’t want it to be awkward, he
wants to spend his birthday with the people he cares about, in a warm and soothing
atmosphere.
“Preferably, while I’m still alive, too.” Adam adds, and it sounds so simple, so innocent, so
honest.
A tingle of worry creeps into Chuuya’s gaze as he looks at the man. “...are you not feeling
well?” His uncle seems fine, on the outside, but if he’s not—
“I’m perfectly fine, kid.” Adam shakes his head, his voice apologetic. “I have no plans of
dying anytime soon, but I am much older than you. I just don’t want to be a ghost haunting
you when the big day comes.”
Normally, it would sound like a mere joke, but considering Chuuya’s experiences and his
friends back at the shrine… Well, his uncle does have a unique sense of humour; joking about
what was once a reason for Chuuya’s emotional breakdown, not to mention a reason for
Adam’s own personal sorrow for many years in the past and the future.
A sigh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He isn’t sure if Adam could actually do that, but he’s ready
to believe the man would stick around just to see him get married one day. And, somehow,
while the thought isn’t something easy to consider, it brings a small smile to Chuuya’s lips.
Though, there’s this itching in the back of his head that he can’t get rid of because—
“You’re very calm about all of this.” He murmurs. “About… us. Me and Dazai.”
—it’s not that he wants his uncle to question his choices, but shouldn’t it be worrying to
know your nephew is in a relationship with a quite infamous kitsune?
Quirking a brow, Adam looks at the redhead. “Do you want me to be angry?”
“No!” Chuuya shakes his head immediately. “Of course not, I just…” He scratches the back
of his neck, shrugging. “I don’t want you to be forcing yourself if it’s weird to you, I guess?”
Of course, he doesn’t want Adam to feel uncomfortable, he doesn’t want him to be finding it
problematic, but he also doesn’t want his uncle to pretend and—
Eh…
Chuuya doesn’t even know what he means anymore, he’s overthinking everything again.
Silence falls around them, stretching its anxiety–driving claws towards Chuuya, but before
they can graze his mind, Adam speaks again, just as calm as ever.
“Are you happy?”
The question surprises the redhead. He expected an explanation of sorts, not that. Blinking,
confused, the redhead looks up at his uncle. “Huh?”
“I said…” Adam turns to face him, hands on his hips and a soft smile painted in his face.
It’s a simple question, really.

But it doesn’t feel simple, not when there’s so many sides to it, not when for a long time
Chuuya didn’t know the answer to it himself—
“...yeah.”
—not until he found it.
Because now it’s the one answer that feels like the most honest truth in his entire life, the one
feeling that keeps Chuuya alive and grounded in reality after everything that has happened.
It’s the answer that slips from his lips on its own and rings with all the confidence the boy
isn’t even trying to gather.
Adam’s hand comes to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly like he always
does. “And that’s enough for me, kid.” He says, no more teasing in his voice – only genuine
care. “I would never be mad about anything that makes you smile. Ever.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, the redhead lets himself relax, stepping closer to hug his uncle
briefly. “Thank you.”
Adam strokes his back gently, smiling to himself. “There’s nothing to be thankful for, kid.”
Ah, how familiar that line sounds, doesn’t it?
Only, the last time it was Dazai who thanked Chuuya for accepting him, for doing the one
thing that should have been obvious from the start.
“Besides…” The older man says. “...if he ever hurts you, I’ll bury that fox in garlic and chilli
peppers.” …in what now? “Foxes around my shrine don’t like the smell, it should work on
him as well. And I’m a priest, I’ll bore him to death by repeating my daily mantras on and
on. I can do it any time, I had twenty years to memorise them all.”
Ah, yes. This is the uncle Adam Chuuya knows and loves.
The boy chuckles into his uncle’s kimono, shaking his head as he steps away only to be met
with mock determination in the other’s eyes. “So you do agree they’re boring?”
“I’m just a man, kid.” Smirking, Adam pokes his forehead. “I know my duties, but it doesn’t
mean I have to be delusional about them.”
Sure, the boy thinks. Says a man who tried so hard to convince Chuuya how interesting a
priest’s life can be when the redhead was ten – tried and failed, mind you. The teasing is at
the tip of Chuuya’s tongue, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but it’s never spoken.
Instead…
“Chuuya?” Ryuu’s voice rings from behind them. “Would you like to go and greet Kouyou in
the garden? She should be here any moment now.”
The redhead looks at his uncle, a silent question in his eyes. He does want to be there when
Kouyou gets here, she’s coming for his birthday so it’s only good manners to greet her and
not have only Dazai do it. There is no way that fox will be any good at it, but a part of
Chuuya doesn’t want to leave Adam by himself with all the preparations and—
“Go.” The man says, cocking his head. “I’ll have your friends help me with the rest, it’s just
carrying plates now anyway.”
—ah, but maybe it’s fine.
Just for today.
“Sorry about that…”
“Stop apologising and go. We’ll be fine.” And that’s really all the reassurance Chuuya needs
to step away from the dishes with a grateful smile.
Leaving his uncle with Ryuu and Gin, Chuuya heads to the garden, not surprised in the
slightest by the sight of Dazai lying under the tree with his eyes closed. He doubts the kitsune
is actually here to wait for Kouyou; he probably simply knew Chuuya would come to greet
her, so waiting here would give him a few minutes of being together before the redhead goes
back to enjoying his time with the others.
And surely enough, just as Chuuya steps outside the house, the fox’s eye opens, a smirk
lazily stretching on his lips and his tails stir. “Ah, Chibi is finally here~”
Looking around, Chuuya walks to the fox. “Kouyou isn’t here, yet?”
“Ignoring your partner from the start?” Dazai’s tails sway behind him, one of them stretching
out to wrap around the boy’s wrist to urge him closer. “Am I not enough for you anymore?”
So he’s still sulking about the whole ‘don’t leave any marks for now’ thing, huh?
“You know what I mean.” The redhead replies, trying to sound annoyed, but he doesn’t take
his hand away when the tail wrapped around it guides it to Dazai’s face, or when the kitsune
brushes his lips on his knuckles.
“The lethal flower is always on time.” Dazai says eventually. “Exactly on time, so we have a
few more minutes before then.”
Ah, that’s fair. But in that case…
“Why do you call her that?” Chuuya asks curiously, letting himself be pulled down to sit
between the fox’s tails. He isn’t mad about it, he finds the nickname more interesting than
anything else and the fact Kouyou allows it speaks volumes as well, but the redhead can’t
help but wonder if there is a story behind it. “I get the ‘flower’ part, but…” Or if Dazai
simply wants to be annoying for no obvious reason.
“Don’t be fooled by her looks and gentle words, Chibi.” A sigh. “She can be extremely
dangerous when provoked. Or when needed.”
Chuuya doesn’t doubt that. After all, she did have the nerve to tease Dazai and call him a
‘fox’, and that must mean something. “Isn’t ‘lethal’ a bit too harsh, though?” Is there a story
behind it or not?
“Believe me.” The kitsune looks up at the green leaves crowning the tree above them, as if
he’s looking in the past hiding among them. “It isn’t.”
Well, maybe one day Chuuya will ask about that more directly. For today, though, true to
Dazai’s words, they don’t have to wait long for the spirit to arrive. Just as Chuuya listens to
yet another whine from the fox about having to keep his hands to himself for one fucking day,
the petals around them stir despite the windless air.
Colours swirl in front of them, pink as the flowers that have already passed and golden as the
petals Chuuya has only seen once before. A sweet aroma envelops the garden just as the
tornado of petals fades, a smiling woman left behind where the flowers danced just a moment
ago.
Graceful and beautiful as ever, Kouyou sets her eyes on Chuuya. “Hello, lad.” She says as the
redhead stands up, then at Dazai right behind him. “Fox.” If there’s a hint of amusement in
Kouyou’s voice and if Dazai avoids her gaze, Chuuya doesn’t notice it.
“Thank you for coming.” He says instead.
“Of course.” The spirit smiles, stepping closer to stroke the redhead’s cheek with the back of
her hand. “I was wondering how life is treating you and I must say…” She gently tilts
Chuuya’s head back with one finger under his chin. “...smiling really does suit you.”
A faint blush covers the boy’s cheeks, the tails stroking his back curling around his waist to
pull Chuuya back from the woman, which only earns them a chuckle from Kouyou. “I see
I’m not the only one to think that, am I?” With one brow arched high, the spirit looks
between the two of them, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“We… em….” Chuuya tries to ignore Dazai’s huff and come up with the least embarrassing
answer instead, but there really isn’t any way for them to save their faces here. “Yes?”
Ah, showing Kouyou his eloquent side isn’t working this time, not that it did the last time
either. Fortunately, the woman doesn’t seem to mind.
“Congratulations.” She simply says, the white patterns around the corners of her eyes shining
in the spring Sun. “But do tell me, lad…” Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she’s briefly
glancing at Dazai. “...how did you two came to be, hm?”
That, at least, is a question Chuuya expected, though he doesn’t believe Kouyou is actually
surprised by their relationship. If anything, she seems to be too aware of it – putting that
together with the gift she sent him and with what happened after Chuuya used it…
To be honest, the redhead expected Dazai to be more talkative about it, biting back at every
teasing comment the spirit throws at them but, somehow, he isn’t. No, the kitsune is oddly
quiet, barely even looking in Kouyou’s direction.
Weird, but… maybe there's a reason for it.
Maybe the kitsune actually knows what embarrassment is, after all.
With a small pout on his face, Chuuya answers with a question of his own. “Do you really not
know?”
“Well, I couldn’t be certain, not until now.” Kouyou chuckles again, looking to the side at the
sakura tree. “But I’m glad it worked.”
The tree. The present.
‘It worked’, huh?
“So it did something!” The boy crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed at the spirit.
It’s not like he didn't’ suspect anything; the timing of her gift and their first kiss, how weird
Ryuu acted and some of the things the wolf would tease him with – all of it screamed
suspicious, but Chuuya couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Dazai never said anything about
it either, whether it was because he didn’t know or didn’t want to share, that Chuuya can’t be
sure about.
“In a way, yes.” Kouyou agrees. “It shone light where it was needed.”
“Huh?” A simple answer followed by a riddle, how very spirit–like of her. “What do you
mean?”
“The powder I sent you was from the flowers that bloomed on the tree I personally grow in
my garden in the yōkai dimension.” The woman explains, walking closer to feel the warm
wood unders her palm, and the tree seems to be leaning into the touch while still unmoving.
“It can transform every tree in the human world into a copy of the one that I care for.” Then,
she smirks at Chuuya. “And its flowers are not only for show, beautiful as they are.”
That explains the transformation, at the very least. But not much more.
“If a demon sees them bloom for the first time in a given year, the sight opens up their heart,
letting their emotions flow free and, in a way, forcing them to acknowledge them.” Her eyes
fall on Dazai, satisfied and victorious. “No denial, no lying to oneself, no excuses.”
Opens up their heart? Does that mean…?
“So the tree made him k—” Clearing his throat awkwardly, Chuuya corrects himself. “—do
something?”
He won’t be mad about it, the possibility that it wasn’t entirely Dazai’s choice has always
been there, in the back of his head, but Chuuya would be lying if he said he didn’t hope for
their kiss to be Dazai’s own choice, not that of a spell. Whatever the answer, it won’t change
what’s already between them, it won’t change their feelings or—
“No.” Kouyou shakes her head, the ornaments in her hair glittering with the movement. “The
tree shows a demon what lies in their heart, but it can’t force them to do anything.” She lets
out a sigh, eyeing the kitsune before meeting Chuuya’s gaze. “If your fox had decided to be
stubborn and ignore it, he would have done it.”
Oh.
“Whatever he did, the choice was always his.”
… oh.
Well, that’s… good to know.
Very good to know, actually—
“How about we go inside now, hm?” Dazai speaks up for the first time since Kouyou arrived
and Chuuya only hopes it distracts the woman enough to ignore his blush. “Chibi’s uncle is
waiting.”
Not that any of them believes the fox is worried about it, however, Chuuya needs a moment
to let what Kouyou has said sink in and the spirit seems to accept the end of this topic.
(For now. She’ll catch the kitsune when he’s alone later, because they are not done with this
conversation.)
“Ah, yes.” A playful, yet elegant and polite, note rings in her voice. “I’m looking forward to
meeting this other human.”
‘Other human’, huh?
Hopefully, by the end of today it will turn into at least ‘this Adam human’ and nothing worse.
As Kouyou walks among the bushes Chuuya planted in their garden, the flowers seem to turn
to her, their colours more vibrant, small buds blooming whenever the spirit walks. She stops
on at the entrance to the main room, glancing at the other two over her shoulder with a silent
question.
“Go on, Chibi.” Dazai’s tails push Chuuya forward. “I’ll join in a bit.”
With furrowed brows, the boy looks behind. “Why not now?” It’s not like—
“I need to get you your present, of course~”
—ah, what else did he expect? For Dazai to stick to what he said?
“I thought inviting uncle Adam and Kouyou was my present.”
His comment goes unanswered. The fox only grins at him before walking away, waving his
hand at Chuuya and humming. His tails sway the same way as when he’s enjoying himself,
meaning Daza is either sure Chuuya will like it or…
Or it’s going to be annoying and he’ll have to brush his tails by himself for a month to make
up for it.
Chuuya can be petty if he wants to. If Dazai chooses to embarrass him in front of not only the
Akutagawa siblings, but also uncle Adam and Kouyou, he will not be merciful.
Not willing to argue with the kitsune under the spirit’s gaze, Chuuya turns to Kouyou with an
apologetic expression and quickly walks to her, shaking his head with a quiet ‘I don’t know
either’ when her eyes ask him about Dazai. He wishes he knew what else to say, so he could
prepare for whatever is to come, but he doesn’t.
In the middle of the main room stands a low, round table with cushions all around it and
many small plates and bowls placed on top of it. There’s enough food for more than six
people, three pots of tea in the middle and small flowers scattered around the wooden surface,
decorating the table with their colours.
Ryuu and Gin are already seated, listening to a story uncle Adam is telling them – a story
that, hopefully, isn’t from Chuuya’s childhood – but when he and Kouyou enter the room, all
three heads turn to them. The Akutagawa siblings bow politely from their seats, while Adam
stands up from his cushion and straightens his kimono briefly.
After Chuuya had told him another spirit would be attending – a spirit like Kouyou, no less –
the man tried to avoid getting dirty while cooking, but there’s only so much he could do. He’s
in his usual, priest attire and he does look presentable… only if you look closer, at the very
bottom of his kimono, you would see small stains from the morning spent in the kitchen.
At least he’s trying, right?
“This is my uncle, Adam.” Chuuya says when the man walks closer, also bowing politely.
“And this is Ozaki Kouyou, the sakura spirit I told you about before.”
The woman gives Chuuya’s uncle a nod, which is already more than the redhead expected.
Sure, her manners are much better than Dazai’s, if one can even say that fox has manners at
all, but Adam is a human and…
Well, he’s not complaining about how it turned out.
“Oh, my.” Kouyou says, eyeing the redhead for a second before meeting Adam’s gaze again.
“I would love to say Chuuya told me about you too, but I’m afraid we don’t speak often
enough.”
Ah, so she was expecting him to visit sooner?
“That’s not a worry.” Well trained politeness rings in Adam’s voice, a sign that he won’t be
sharing any too embarrassing stories with her.
Yet, of course, because he always does end up getting close to anyone he meets and
something tells Chuuya he will not be spared any of it today.
“I wasn’t told about the party until this morning, either.” He continues. Then, his expression
loses some of the playful tone, a more serious look settling in his eyes as he bows his head
again. “I’m grateful for everything you have done for my nephew, Ozaki–san.”
“It was my pleasure to help.” The woman laughs softly, waving her hand. “And just
‘Kouyou’ will be enough.”
“Kouyou–san, then.”
Oh, they’re getting along surprisingly well.
…should Chuuya be worried about that now?
“What about Dazai–sama?” Ryuu asks when everyone is seated again. “Was he not with
you?”
“He was.” Chuuya sighs. “But then he said something about a present and ran off.”
Which, considering how much the fox whines whenever Chuuya spends some time by
himself, is more than weird. He can only hope this present of his will be something
reasonable. He’s pretty sure it won’t be a dead animal, as Adam so kindly suggested before
when Chuuya mentioned the kitsune’s previous propositions, but who knows? Dazai is, in a
way, a fox.
“Has he never mentioned what it would be?” His uncle asks, sipping on his tea. “Actually
mentioned, not the teasing you told me about before.”
Chuuya isn’t entirely sure how to answer, because Dazai did mention quite a lot of ideas
during the past month, none of which being anything near acceptable, or appropriate to
accept with others around, but all of them were within the fox’s shameless capabilities. Adam
may think everything Chuuya complained about before was simply the kitsune’s teasing, but
the truth is – it most likely wasn’t.
It wouldn’t have been if only Chuuya had agreed to it, if nothing else.
“I’m not sure I want to know.” Chuuya settles on ignoring the matter for as long as possible.
Any minute passing by in peace and quietness is a gift in itself. “Knowing him, it’s probably
something extremely annoying or—”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your family, is it, kid?”
Chuuya’s body stills, his eyes blown wide as he turns to the entrance, his gaze falling on the
tall figure in a light kimono, a sharp grin on his face and a long braid falling down on his left
shoulder.
“Uncle Paul?!”
Chapter End Notes
HEHEHEHEHHE WE HAVE MORE CHARACTERS COMING OUR WAY~~~~~~

AND SOME BACKGROUND STORIES TOO~~~~~~~~
Rest assured, Chuuya's birthday will be chaotic and will involve A LOT of teasing,
because we all deserve to make fun of him a lil for making us wait 100k+ words to
acknowledge his feelings!
(Author who? The story writes itself, obviously....)

More Than One Surprise
Chapter Notes
FYI, there is a quick smut/knot scene towards the end, but it’s skippable if you don’t like
that, BUT there is one more last scene AFTER that, which is important!
Verlaine grins, watching with fond amusement how Chuuya gets up from his seat. “Who
else?”
“But—” The redhead crosses the distance between them in no time, hugging the other man.
“Why are you— How?”
His uncle’s arms wrap around Chuuya, squeezing him briefly as the man chuckles softly into
the red hair. All of it brings a familiar sense of comfort into the boy’s mind, his heart flooded
with memories of his childhood, back when his dad was still alive.
They haven’t seen each other in a long time, partially because Verlaine travels a lot, and it’s
usually long journeys as well, and partially because, well, Chuuya grew up. He didn’t need to
be looked after as much anymore, he decided to live alone in a village that was safe, and the
thought of being a burden for his uncle was very much not to his liking. It doesn’t mean that
they haven’t stayed in touch, though.
Chuuya isn’t sure what type of a bird it is – a big one, that’s for sure – but uncle Paul has
always had it at his side. It’s well trained and doesn’t hurt anyone, and it’s how Verlaine tends
to communicate with the redhead – by letters. How often, it depends. If the man is travelling
relatively close by, within the prefecture, or at least the country, Chuuya would get a reply
within two/three weeks. Sometimes, it’s once every few months, which is exciting in its own
way because it means Verlaine went abroad, and will have more stories to tell the next time
they meet in person.
Which is why, among everything that has happened, Chuuya may have forgotten to keep an
eye on his (old) house, in case the bird comes again. It’s been a little under a year since his
last letter, so the man couldn’t have known about this place, uncle Adam hasn’t mentioned
anything about it to him, so how…?
“Your… friend came to me.” Paul says, still holding the boy close.
Friend? Oh gods, does he mean—
“Isn’t my present the best~?” Dazai sings from the side, walking past the two and into the
room with victory painted all over his face, and Chuuya can’t even be mad about how
satisfied with himself the fox sounds. Because it is great, it may be the best present he’s ever
gotten – to have his friends and family here, together.
(It’s not complete, a whisper in his mind reminds him, but there are things Chuuya can’t go
back to, people he can’t force back into his life after they’ve left it. Or after they were taken
away from him. But Chuuya still hopes they are fine.
That Shirase can rest in peace and calmly await the day they reunite.
That Yuan, wherever she is and whatever she’s doing, has learnt to smile again the same way
Chuuya did.
The Flags… some things can’t be helped, can they? At least they have each other, back at the
shrine.)
There’s also a hurricane of questions in his mind, but it’s easily overtaken by the familiar
warmth of Verlaine’s voice. “I would normally argue about being called a ‘present’ but…”
Chuuya can hear the roll of Paul’s eyes in his words and, well, he kind of agrees with him.
“...it’s nice to see you again, kid. We have a lot to talk about.”
Oh, they do.
They really do.
Pushing away, Verlaine puts his hands on Chuuya’s shoulders, two pairs of blue eyes locked
together and the redhead’s lips twitch at how some of his uncle’s loose, blond strands fall
over his face. He can’t stop the smile stretching his lips, or the bubble of happiness blooming
in his chest, or the way he feels like a child again under the man’s gaze, or—
“I’ve been worried sick, young man.”
—oh no.
Behind him, Chuuya can hear chuckles and scoffs following Paul’s comment. He doesn’t
doubt how everyone must be enjoying this, much to Chuuya’s distress. Uncle Adam can be
embarrassing with his stories and overall character, but uncle Paul? He’s seen Chuuya grow
up from being a baby, he can be incredibly overprotective and worrying about every little
thing, and this – the demons, the different house, everything – is anything but little.
“You weren’t replying to my letters, you weren’t there when I came to your hut last week, so
I went to Adam’s but then, when I got there this morning, he wasn’t there either—”
“—not my fault—”
“—you be quiet now, busybody priest, I’ll talk to you later.”
Ah, Verlaine must have been on edge for a while if he’s calling Adam that again. In a way,
it’s nostalgic to hear him like this, a small smile creeping on Chuuya’s lips even if he’s almost
certain explaining everything will be beyond awkward. It’s going to be torture, for sure,
there’s just no other way.
“And then a kitsune of all people appeared before me, telling me my nephew now lives with
him and—”
Now that Chuuya thinks about it, why is Paul so calm about Dazai being a demon?
Or did the fox already explain at least some basic facts to him?
But before he can ask, his uncle straightens his back, hands resting on his hips and his voice a
mixture of amusement, worry, disbelief and demand, with a hint of ever–present fondness.
Chuuya is expecting to get scolded, or to be told a lecture about trusting centuries–old
demons without telling him about it, but what happens next is far from that…
“Can someone please tell me why, how and when my nephew got courted by a demon fox?”
Gin and Kouyou chuckle somewhere in the background, Dazai doesn’t seem bothered by
how Verlaine refers to him, only humming pleasantly to himself, while uncle Adam… He is
full on laughing at them right now and Chuuya isn’t sure if he wants to join him, or hide and
cry at how embarrassed the question made him feel.
It’s a valid question, sure, but there is time and place to consider!
…Chuuya is so doomed, isn’t he?
“Come on, Paul.” Adam says, his breathing heavy from the laughter. “Let Chuuya enjoy the
party before you start interrogating him about his love life.”
Gods, can they both shut up, please?
“It’s a valid question!”
“For later, Paul.” The other man laughs again. “We’re not alone here, remember?”
Verlaine doesn’t look entirely convinced, but one look at the redhead makes his expression
soften. He is overprotective, but he has always been weak to Chuuya’s shy smiles and pink
blushes. Which helps, in a way, but it also makes the boy want to disappear on the spot.
Letting out a sigh, the man seems to give up – for now, the redhead isn’t lying to himself by
pretending he won’t be thoroughly interrogated the first chance Verlaine gets – ruffling
Chuuya’s hair again despite the other’s annoyed pout.
“I will ask again.” He reassures Chuuya, not that anyone was doubting him before.
“Sure.” The redhead huffs, but his eyes gleam with happiness. “Come sit with us?”
“No, I just came to say hi.” He rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m joining in.”
They end up with the most optimal seating arrangements, at least in Chuuya’s opinion.
Dazai quietly – but not without a reluctant pout – accepts that the boy wants to have his
uncles close, preferably at his sides, so the fox settles for sitting next to Verlaine for the day.
Although one of his tails is constantly on the redhead’s back, not really doing anything other
than staying there. On the kitsune’s other side sits Ryuu, Kouyou and Gin, with Adam closing
the circle at Chuuya’s left.
The table is big enough for everyone to have enough space for themselves, comfortable both
on the soft cushions and with the space on the table’s surface.
If the atmosphere feels a bit awkward in the beginning, it’s quickly replaced by easy
chuckles, amused snorts and distraught groans from Chuuya. Adam’s stories lighten the
mood, which the redhead is grateful for at first, but once Verlaine joins him…
This is quickly turning into Hell.
This is divine punishment for forgetting to inform his uncle about… well, everything.
Together, the two of them have fifteen years worth of Chuuya’s childhood stories stored in
their minds, very detailed ones at that, and the redhead is the only one who tries to stop them
from speaking. No one here sides with him, not even Dazai. Kouyou’s eyes glitter with
amusement as she listens to them, occasional chuckles ringing in the room like a sweet
melody of flowers and leaves rustling in the wind. The Akutagawas are extremely interested,
not bothering to hide it. Ryuu even adds a comment here and there about how Chuuya still
acts the same as in these stories, and Gin nods at his every word.
Mind you, he doesn’t act the same way. Not at all.
But the worst of them all is, after all, still Dazai.
He’s silent most of the time, but the way he glances at Chuuya when the redhead’s blush
darkens, sparkles dancing in the eye that flashes red at the more… entertaining memories.
His tails twitch on the boy’s back when the fox laughs, they put more pressure into their
stroking when Chuuya hides his head in his arms to hide from everyone’s teasing. Dazai, the
traitorous fox, is enjoying this and Chuuya knows he won’t hear the end of it after today.
Fortunately, the topic changes eventually, switching to Verlaine’s stories from his travels
around the country and the world, Adam’s everyday life at the shrine and anything that comes
to their mind. But it’s Kouyou’s words that make Chuuya’s eyes sparkle with newfound
interest because…
“What a pity Ryuu’s partner couldn’t come.” She sighs, lips curling up when the black–haired
boy chokes. “That oblivious tiger would love—”
“Ane–san!”
‘Ane-san’? ‘Tiger’? But more importantly—
“A partner?” Chuuya’s brows shoot up, mischief colouring his voice as his lips stretch into a
grin. “I didn’t know Ryuu had a partner.” Or a social life outside of Dazai’s residence, for that
matter.
“Hmm, he does~” The kitsuen muses, knowing that the wolf won’t try to silence him. “And
it’s such a romantic story as well, isn't it, Gin?”
The girl nods, trying to hide a smile behind her cup when her brother glares at her.
“Oh?” Chuuya can’t stop himself, the tables have finally turned. “How come you’ve never
mentioned it before? I would love to hear it.”
Ryuu covers his mouth with his sleeve, coughing as he’s trying to speak. “There’s nothing to
hear—”
“He saved his cute tiger’s life.” Kouyou cuts him off. “Or his freedom, at the very least.”
“But the boy is the definition of being oblivious.” Dazai adds. “Poor Ryuu spent almost a
century courting him before he noticed.”
That draws an honest laugh from Chuuya, because the image of Ryuu trying to be alluring, or
anything other than stoic really, is too much. He wonders what they other tried – did the wolf
go around picking flowers to present them to his beloved? The redhead can’t see that
happening ever, but he will ask about it. Someday. Someday soon, most likely.
This sounds like a very interesting story.
Like a fair payback.
“That is true.” Kouyou nods, bringing a cup to her lips as she looks between Dazai and
Chuuya. “That tiger’s obliviousness was almost as absurd as you two’s denial.”
Now, it’s the redhead and the fox that choke, accompanied by everyone else’s laughter,
including Verlaine’s, even if the man doesn’t yet know the extent of how true that statement
rings.
Maybe ‘relationships’ isn’t the best topic.
But Chuuya is, other than blushing, curious about one thing…
“So, em…” He tries to calm himself, coughing out the tea he accidentally tried to breathe
with. “You and your partner live separately?”
Because Ryuu definitely lives here; he may not spend every minute of every day in the
residence, or in the forest, but he has been around almost every day. Even his trip to Kouyou
was brief, and Chuuya would have absolutely noticed if anyone else came to visit.
“Atsushi lives with the god he now serves.” Comes a quick answer. “We don't mind the
distance.”
Well… that’s fair, he supposes. Everyone has their own idea of what they want and need.
Personally, Chuuya can’t imagine living apart from Dazai, not anymore, but if Ryuu says
they’re fine, then it must be true. At least in Ryuu’s case, he can’t be sure about how this
Atsushi feels about it without asking him, but if he’s not barging in every week, then he must
somewhat agree. Besides, Chuuya is just a human, maybe living apart is a thing for yōkai—
Ah, but they’ve been talking about not only demons, but also gods now, about living for
centuries and all of that – Chuuya is used to it, but he doesn’t want to make his uncles
uncomfortable. He doesn’t think Adam minds that much, the priest has proven himself to be
very open minded and experienced in the field, but…
“Sorry, if it’s confusing.” The redhead says to his other uncle. “You must be—”
Feeling uncomfortable?
Bursting with questions?
“You’re very wrong there, kid.” Adam snorts at his other side and Chuuya’s head turns to him
with a puzzled look. “Paul won’t mind. As he likes to remind me all the time: he’s not
human.”
Uncle Paul isn’t… huh?
“HUH?”
Chuuya’s head snaps back to the blonde man, eyes blown wide and searching for an answer
in the slight frown forming on the man’s face. He looks tired, shoulders sagging, probably
thinking of how to avoid the redhead’s gaze, because that is what Chuuya would do in his
place, while silence falls around them, only for the redhead to choke out a frantic—
“You’re not dead, right?”
Because Chuuya has to know at least that much. He needs to be sure the cruel fate isn’t
repeating itself to taunt him, he can’t help but think of the worst scenario right away.
“I— what?”
He doesn’t blame Paul for being confused, however, given Chuuya’s track record this year…
if uncle Adam’s words are true, there’s always a possibility, and it’s something the redhead
isn’t prepared to deal with again, not yet, not ever—
“He knows about The Flags.” Adam offers, somewhat apologetic.
That must have been enough of an answer, because Verlaine’s lips part in a silent ‘oh’,
realisation shining in his eyes as he looks at the other’s worried expression.
“No, kid.” He says, calm and with melancholy ringing in his voice. “I’m not dead.”
Chuuya’s shoulders relax visibly, a breath he’s been holding in since before finally leaving
his lungs. It’s not fine yet, his mind is still trying to comprehend what’s happening, but—
But uncle Paul, human or not, is alive.

He’s not a ghost, his touch is warm and Chuuya can feel it on his skin. He also doesn’t seem
hurt anywhere, Verlaine looks exactly the same as… always? Chuuya has known Verlaine all
his life and, sure, he may not remember all that much from his very early childhood, but he’s
fairly sure the man hasn’t changed at all.
In the back of his head, he was always aware of it, but it’s not like his uncle looks like a
teenager – most would say he’s in his late twenties, maybe early thirties when he’s visibly
tired – so it wouldn’t be surprising if he simply took good care of his body. Many people stay
looking young for years, Chuuya’s dad always looked younger than he was until the very
end. At least from what the boy remembers.
But him being a… something not human makes sense, in a way.
What doesn’t make sense, however, is how no one has ever told Chuuya about this until now.
Not uncle Adam, who apparently knew all this time, not uncle Paul. Wait, did Dazai know?
Or his dad—
“Let’s talk about that later, okay?” Verlaine says, his voice the only sound in the otherwise
silent space between them.
“But—”
“I don’t want to make others feel… weird during your party, kid. Not more than Adam
already has.” Ignoring the other man’s snort, Verlaine’s hand reaches out to squeeze
Chuuya’s shoulder reassuringly. “I said we would have a talk later so, let’s do it then.”
As much as the redhead hates to admit it, his uncle does have a point. They shouldn’t be
subjecting Kouyou, or the Akutagawa siblings, to their personal matters, not like this.
Reluctantly, Chuuya lets the subject be dropped for now, but he doesn’t stop glancing at both
of his uncles with suspicion written all over his face.
Fortunately, the awkward atmosphere doesn’t last for long, thanks to Kouyou’s oratory skills.
In no time, all of them are laughing again and sharing the food Adam prepared. They stay at
the table long after everything has gone, after the Sun has already hidden behind the horizon,
letting the stars scattered over the dark sky shine with their distant stories.
But even the most perfect of days must come to an end.
As much as Chuuya would like to be stubborn, his mind is tired after all the stories and facts
he’s been exposed to today and as such, he agrees to let the conversation with his uncle wait
until tomorrow. Especially since uncle Adam looks physically tired now.
After thanking Kouyou once again for coming, and being… persuaded, to say it politely, to
promise to visit her soon, Chuuya leaves with the Akutagawa siblings to prepare the rooms
for Verlaine and Adam to sleep in. Apparently, Dazai has predicted this much, because there
are extra futons waiting for them already.
And speaking of Dazai…

“So?” Kouyou quirks a brow at him when Chuuya disappears in the house again, leaving
only the two of them in the garden; her smile ever so polite and sharper than a hundred
swords. “I’m still waiting.”
The fox’s ears turn to the sides as he avoids the spirit’s gaze and looks into the darkness of
the forest surrounding the residence, trying to appear disinterested in any possible
conversations. His tails are barely moving behind him as Dazai keeps his voice levelled,
grimacing internally.
“...I don’t recall asking you for a favour.”
“Ah, of course not.” Kouyou muses. “From what I recall, you said something along the lines
of… ‘I don't need you to tell me what I'm feeling’, right?”
Yes, that’s exactly what he said.
No, he doesn’t appreciate Kouyou’s perfect memory.
“I wonder how that worked out for you, hm?”
A spark of irritation lights up in Dazai’s chest, but he isn’t sure what exactly causes it: the
fact that Kouyou was right all along and knew about it even before him, or the fact that she’s
forcing him to admit it. Maybe it’s both.
Or maybe it’s because he hates losing, and this is something he simply cannot win.
“We were doing just fine.” His eye finally meets the spirit’s amused gaze, dark and
determined to play this game until the very end, to drag this out and hope she’ll give up.
“So I’ve heard.” Ah, Dazai should have a little talk with the Akutagawas, shouldn’t he? “You
really never change, fox.”
Partially, that’s true. He doesn’t feel the need to change.
“It would have happened eventually.”
“Years from now.” Kouyou so kindly points out, her chin high and unwavering even under
the dangerous red flashing in Dazai’s orb at the reminder. “Years of happiness you would
have lost for no reason, you and Chuuya both. Plus, you seem to be forgetting one thing.”
“Which is…?”
“Chuuya is a human.” The woman’s voice makes Dazai’s tails freeze, even if his expression
doesn’t change. Her tone is levelled, too calm as she cuts through the kitsune’s nonchalant
layers. “He doesn’t have as much time as you and I, so wasting it isn’t exactly wise.”
Dazai would never forget about it, he knows.

…but he chooses not to think about it, not now. Not while they’re still together.
“...”
Though, it’s a point he can’t ignore, especially in front of Kouyou.
It’s a cruel fact that occupies his mind during some night as he watches the redhead sleep. A
distant thought and nothing else, because Chuuya’s soft breathing and the quiet rhythm of his
heart beating with so much life is always there to ground the kitsune in the present, not the
future.
With a slightly annoyed frown on his lips, the fox lets out a sigh, his ears twitching
uncomfortably above the brows locks.
“Thank you for your gift.” He mumbles.
It’s quiet and unwilling, but honest, and Kouyou hears it clearly in the silence of the night.
She doesn’t reply, she’s already done that before, but a victorious smile blooms on her face,
white patterns around her eyes glittering like the stars above them. She doesn’t say anything
back to that, however…
“Have you found anything about the incident with Ace?”
One question is enough to have Dazai’s aura switch from stubborn to serious. His ears
straighten up, shadows falling on his face darker than before. “No.” And it would be a good
thing if Dazai wasn’t certain there’s something he’s missing.
He had Gin search Ace’s cave after what happened, he regularly sends Ryuu to gather
information about everything that’s happening in the yōkai world, and all of that still left him
empty handed. There doesn’t seem to be anything unusual going on and no one tried
disturbing them ever since Ace, the snake’s cave was also empty, not even a single scent left
behind.
He wants to believe he’s wrong about worrying, but letting his guard down never ends well
and he can’t risk Chuuya.
Not again.
“Do you know what the other fox is up to?” Kouyou asks, and it makes Dazai’s gaze darken
even more.
“He hasn’t left that frozen land of his.” A sigh. “As far as I know.”
And, if they’re lucky, it’ll stay that way.
—
“You knew, didn’t you?”
With hands resting on his hips and droplets of water falling from his hair onto the heated
skin, Chuuya stands in the doorway of their room. His eyes narrow at the kitsune sitting in
the corner and the silver, lidded bowl next to him.
“About uncle Paul.”
He had to. The more Chuuya thinks about it, the more certain he is of it. Back when his dad
was still alive, Verlaine would visit them every week, sometimes more often, there is no way
a kitsune who claims to own the forest wouldn’t have noticed a non–human spending this
much time around.
The only question is: how long has he known for?
Dazai tilts his head back until it hits the wall behind him, his smile almost apologetic as he
answers, shoulders shrugging. “It wasn’t my story to tell.”
It’s not the first time the fox says something like that, it’s the same excuse he gave him when
they were at the shrine and Chuuya has just found out about his friends being ghosts. And it’s
just as annoying now as it was back then.
Just as true.
“You’re all impossible.” The redhead huffs, walking to the futon and falling on top of it. He
wishes Dazai would have given him an answer he could fight, not a reasonable one. “ And
what have you got there, anyway?” His words are muffled by the pillow, but Dazai doesn’t
seem to mind.
“Well…”
There’s shuffling coming from the kitsune, his kimono dragging on the floor as the fox comes
closer. His hand strokes Chuuya’s wet hair as the boy turns his head to glance at the fox.
Dazai’s tails sway behind him, a grin plastered under the crimson orb shining from the
shadows cast by the dark strands falling on his face.
“Chibi has been getting more and more curious about my knot for a while now.”
Surprise soothes the faint anger that’s been planted in Chuuya’s chest, his eyes wide as they
look between Dazai and the silver bowl next to the futon; a blush blooms on his cheeks. He
can still blame it on the bath, it hasn’t been that long since he got out.
“Maybe.” He admits slowly. “But what does that have to do with…?” Because it’s different
from the other bowl, the shape and the engraved ornaments aren’t the same.
“There’s a special mix of oils in it, infused with a spell to make it…” Dazai’s hand slowly
slides from Chuuya’s head down his spine, rubbing gentle circles in the small of his back.
“...easier.”
At that, curiosity and stubbornness mixes in his mind.

“I don’t need a spell to handle you.”
Well, Chuuya isn’t actually sure about that, but he has to say it, to defend his pride if nothing
else.
“Oh, I know, Chibi.” Dazai teases, his tails stroking Chuuya’s legs and wrapping around his
ankles. “But it’s not about helping you handle it, it’s about helping you enjoy it.”
The redhead closes his eyes to think about it.
He’s not scared about being heard, each room in the residence has had a silencing spell put on
it a long time ago, and it’s the first time Dazai is bringing it up since their first time. Chuuya
has been thinking about it occasionally, but the fox would only tease him and never do
anything, not with that. Which was a bit frustrating, because it was Dazai who acted so smug
about it when he first told Chuuya about his knot, only to then not act on it.
“...did you wait until my birthday on purpose?” Chuuya snorts, trying to sound nonchalant
while his body heats up and arches under Dazai’s touch. “Making it into a present?”
That’s something Dazai would do.
The kitsune grins, humming appreciatively at the responses the body under his fingers shows
him, his nails teasing the skin under the silky material as they trail a line down Chuuya’s ass
and thigh.
“The night shouldn’t be any less special than the day, should it?”
Chuuya’s eyes are squeezed shut, his lips parted on a silent moan as he throws his head back.
He’s hugging one of Dazai’s tails to his chest, nails digging into the soft fur every time the
kitsune’s fingers hit that one spot deep inside of him, or scissor him wider than before. Not
only did Dazai spend a long time kissing and biting every inch of Chuuya’s body, but also
now he’s taking forever stretching him open.
It feels good.
It feels great.
Maybe it’s because of the spell in the oils the other is using, but there was no pain, not even a
slight sting, when Dazai first started fingering him. All that Chuuya felt was pleasure,
burning hotter and hotter with each thrust of his wrist.
He isn’t complaining about the attention, he can feel his cock throb at every jolt of electricity
running through his body, but…
“O–Osamu—”
The kitsune has Chuuya hold onto one of his tails, but two other of them are keeping his legs
spread open, one pinned to the futon and the other high in the air for Dazai to suck on the
skin on the inside of his thigh. Another tail stroking his hair and cheek. Another one rubbing
gently on his hip.
They’re everywhere.
Chuuya is getting a lot of stimulation from Dazai’s tails and hands and mouth, but it’s been
so long already, he doesn’t want to wait anymore. He wants what he was promised, he needs
more.
“It’s—it’s enough a–already—”
The redhead can feel a smirk pressed to his leg, the kitsune’s ears and hair tickling his skin. A
low hum rings through the air as Dazai guides Chuuya’s leg to the futon, moving back to trail
kisses around his abdomen.
“I need to make sure Chuuya is prepared.” He whispers, lips brushing the skin both so close
and so achingly far from his cock.
“I am—”
He’s more than ready, the only reason why he hasn’t reached his high yet is because Dazai
hasn’t touched his cock even once, only letting pre–cum pool over his stomach, and because
his fingers are fucking into him too slow.
Every thrust is deep and hard, every stretch has his legs tremble, but it’s not enough.
“Is that so?”
Dazai’s hand, his clean hand, cups Chuuya’s cheek and blue eyes flutter open, half–lidded
and watering with pleasure tears as they meet the red staring into his very soul. They’ve
agreed to leave the bandages over Dazai’s face for tonight – well, Dazai said he preferred it
that way for this, and the redhead didn’t push – only letting the ones covering the rest of his
body burn up in blue flames.
“Please—” Chuuya forces his arms to relax, letting the tail slide out of his hold before he
reaches for Dazai’s shoulders. “I need more, I—”
A choked sob cuts his words off when the kitsune’s fingers hit that one spot even harder,
sending a wave of burning pleasure through the boy’s body before slipping out of him
completely.
“Oh, you’ll get plenty more~”

Dazai leans down to lock their lips in a slow kiss, tasting need on Chuuya’s tongue and
grinning at the desperate whines and small wiggles of the redhead’s hips. He did promise to
make the redhead beg for it, but…
Maybe not this time.
Tonight he wants to make sure his partner enjoys every second of it. He has already teased
him enough. Without breaking the kiss, Dazai quickly slickens up his cock with the oils
before lining himself at Chuuya’s entrance and slowly pushes inside.
No matter how many times they do this, no matter how many times Dazai holds his partner,
the feeling of having Chuuya around his cock never stops being intoxicating. It’s hot and
tight, his walls clenching and unclenching as the kitsune buries himself as deep as he can.
The trembles he gets in response, the moans and the sound of Chuuya’s racing heart…
All of it plays at his instincts, at the very limits of his self–control.
Dazai never breaks past it, he knows how to keep himself in check, but that doesn’t take
anything away from the experience. From the adrenaline of being so close to losing his mind,
even if it never truly happens.
“Relax for me.” The kitsune whispers, his lips brushing Chuuya’s before his mouth lowers to
his ear, fangs grazing the skin.
Too lost in his pleasure, the redhead doesn’t care if it’s the spell or not, his walls relaxing
instantly at the other’s words. With fingers digging into Dazai’s shoulders and back and
painting red lines all over cold, black ones, Chuuya lets out a breathy moan on the first thrust.
The tails pinning his legs to the futon leave, guiding his legs to wrap around Dazai’s hips.
The pace starts slow, every move of the kitsune’s hips knocking air out of Chuuya’s lungs
with how deep inside his cock reaches. And then it grows faster and faster and faster—
Each snap sends electricity through the redhead’s body, liquid pleasure pooling deep inside
him with every hit to his prostate, every tease of Dazai’s fangs over his throat, every kiss.
Chuuya can’t even bring himself to care about the very visible marks forming on his neck,
he’ll worry about that tomorrow.
(And he’ll burn in embarrassment in front of his uncles tomorrow.)
Now, all that matters is this.
HIs partner, all around and inside of him, filling Chuuya’s mind with nothing but pleasure.
Loud moans and low growls echo in the room, the sound of skin slapping against skin
growing stronger, and Chuuya is about to actually beg Dazai to touch his neglected cock,
because he’s so close. But just as he’s trying to form coherent words, just as the desperate
plea is about to escape him—
Chuuya chokes on whatever was about to leave his throat when he feels his insides being
stretched further. It’s only a bit more than before, for now, but it’s unexpected and—
“O–Os—!”
—it doesn’t stop.
“Shh.” Dazai soothes, pushing himself up on one arm to look at the redhead’s face. “Relax,
Chuuya.” The hand cupping his cheek is gentle, much in contrast to the almost brutal pace
the kitsune sets as his knot continues to swell. “Just relax for me.”
And Chuuya tries, but Dazai is growing bigger inside him with every thrust, stretching him
wider than his fingers ever did before. It’s new, unexpected, exciting, and the redhead doesn’t
know what to do, what to think.
He feels full, his insides burn with pleasure that only grows stronger with each second. But
it’s also overwhelming.
“You’re doing so well.” The kitsune coos, his thumb rubbing Chuuya’s flustered cheek.
“Relaxing perfectly.” Soft lips shower his face in gentle kisses, brushing away tears of
pleasure from the redhead’s hot skin.
“Os— plea—”
“So good.” Dazai’s voice is low, a hint of a possessive growl ringing in every word. “My
sweet, beautiful Chuuya.”
“I’m—” The redhead tries to speak, but the haze clouding his mind is only growing thicker
as his body feels more stuffed with every second. Pleasure is burning in his veins as his
orgasm creeps into him, faster and stronger despite his cock throbbing on his stomach, all but
forgotten. “Please—”
He’s so close. So close—
Dazai presses their foreheads together, their breaths mixing as the kitsune’s hips snap faster
and rougher. Pleasure explodes in Chuuya’s gut as he arches his back with a choked scream
when the kitsune pushes hard inside him, his knot locking them together.
All Chuuya knows is how full he feels. His vision goes white, there’s ringing in his ears and
faint whispers echoing somewhere close, but not quite reaching his mind yet. There’s hot
wetness spilling inside him and it’s almost too much. Chuuya doesn’t realise how he’s come
untouched, how his legs and hands are digging into Dazai’s body desperately, how—
“You need to breathe, Chuuya.” Somehow, Dazai’s whispers start reaching the redhead’s
consciousness, tender and affectionate. “Relax and breathe.”
Following the whispers, Chuuya lets the air he’s been holding inside escape him, then inhales
just as deeply. He blinks tears of overstimulation away, looking for—
“That’s it.”
—Dazai.
The kitsune hovers close over him, the strands of his dark hair tickling Chuuya’s face.
“Welcome back.” he chuckles at the boy’s hazed smile, his arm gently wrapping around
Chuuya’s middle. “How are you feeling, little human?”
Carefully, Dazai moves them around until Chuuya is lying on top of him, absentmindedly
nuzzling into his chest as the fox rubs soothing circles into his lower back. The redhead
mumbles something that sounds like ‘good’ and ‘full’ into his skin, and Dazai decides it’s
enough for now. He’ll let Chuuya rest until his knot goes down, he’ll continue whispering
sweet words into the flame–like hair and tracing invisible patterns on the boy’s body.
As the silence settles around them, the fox comes to a conclusion that Chuuya’s heartbeat is
the most beautiful music, a melody that melts the kitsune’s cold soul every time. Staying like
this forever wouldn’t be bad, Dazai lets himself think in the darkness of the night – together,
with Chuuya, just the two of them.
It would be like… finally feeling whole.
“You really couldn’t have been a bit more subtle about it?”
The hallway is dark and silent, no one in sight except for the tall blonde man leaning on the
wall next to the door to the room Adam was given for tonight. Verlaine has his arms crossed
over his chest, sending the other man a half–hearted glare.
With one hand still towelling his wet hair, Adam shrugs. “You wouldn’t have said anything
yourself if I hadn’t done that.” He walks past the other man, leaving the door open for
Verlaine to follow him inside.
He expected him to visit, he really doesn’t mind.
And maybe, just maybe, he deserves some scolding for how he broke the news to Chuuya
with everyone around.
“Because there are good reasons for it.” Paul says, sliding the door shut and watching how
the other sits down on his futon.
“No, there aren’t.” Adam throws the damp towel to the side, stretching his back and nodding
for his guest to sit on the cushion by the wall. “He already knows about yōkai and the like.”
The man lets out a relieved sigh when he feels the bones popping. “And he’s not a child
anymore. Your excuses are invalid, Mr I’m–Not–a–Human.”
Verlaine rolls his eyes at that, shaking his head. “How very adult of you.”
“I’m not the one pouting like a child.”
“I’m older than you, stupid priest.” Paul huffs, the back of his head hitting the wall behind
him. “By a lot, might I add.”
“Believe me, I remember.” Because he wouldn’t shut up about it in the past. “My point still
stands, though.”
They stare at each other for a while in a silent battle their eyes fight almost every time they
meet, but it’s not long before the atmosphere relaxes again. Paul’s shoulders fall on a deep
sigh and Adam chuckles to himself while leaning back on his arms, stretching his legs out on
the futon.
“But you could have waited until the others were gone, instead of being a brat about it.”
Which is true, but where’s the fun in that?
Adam cocks his head, amusement painting his voice. “Are you really calling a man in his
forties a bart now?”
“Yes.” Comes a quick answer. “You’re just as much of a brat now as you were when I first
met you.”
“Ah, good old time, huh?”
It wasn’t peaceful, it wasn’t anywhere near easy, but… there were moments that both of them
will forever hold dear, memories sealed away in their minds and carved into their souls. The
days when all of them were together and alive.
“I don’t know about ‘good’...” Paul speaks up, softer than before. “...but it sure was lively.”
“Getting sappy on me, Paul?” Adam teases. “I thought that’s my role.”
Whatever fondness Verlaine may feel towards Adam, it’s well hidden behind a groan slipping
from his throat. “I sure as hell don’t miss the headaches, though.”
Sure. Whatever he says.
“You say that now, but you stuck around with us until the end.” Their end.
Despite being a suspect in a case, despite not actually knowing any of them that well, despite
pretending like he didn’t care—
Despite all of that, Verlaine stayed for as long as Adam and the Flags needed him, even if
they never asked him to. They would tease him about taking pity on the lone man and
wanting to test his patience, they would joke about him being their guardian until all of them
turned twenty – but they knew he had his reasons to stay away, they didn’t push.
“...someone had to keep an eye on the bunch of annoying brats running around the country
and causing problems.”
‘Causing problems’ as in solving them, but he’ll let that slide.
“You got through that.” Adam waves the comment away. “So you’ll be fine with telling
Chuuya the truth, too.”
Once again, silence stretches between the two of them. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy,
at least for Verlaine, and full of old doubts that used to haunt him every day. It’s been so long
since the last time he told anyone, and with Chuuya it’s going to be even more difficult than
with anyone else, because it will involve his past, too.
The reason why he had to make Adam take care of him.
The reason why, even if he wanted to, he could never be the guardian Chuuya needed, despite
being there from the moment the redhead was born.
“He won’t hate you for it.” The other man says, quiet but firm. “He would never hate you.”
And Verlaine knows it.
It’s not about Chuuya hating him, or being angry at him for keeping sectors. It’s not even
about how suddenly all of it was thrown at him out of nowhere. It’s…
He helped with raising Chuuya, he watched the boy who looked up to him grow up into a
man and now… Now he’s supposed to tell that same beloved redhead that his uncle isn’t
worth the respect Chuuya has for him.
How does he do that?
How does he tell Chuuya that his uncle is nothing but an old, walking marionette?
Chapter End Notes
Kouyou is the teasing queen and I love her for it, SHE SHALL HUMBLE EVERYONE
WITH A SINGLE LOOK, AS SHE SHOULD
Yes, I was a bit lazy with that smut scene because I'm not that good at them :') And yes,
Atsushi is going to show up sooner or later~
The next chapter will answer all the answers about Verlaine (or at least 99% of them). It
would have been too long to include it in this one :’) And I know people are most likely
reading this for skk BUT HIS BACKGROUND HAD ME VERY EMOTIONAL AND I
PERSONALLY THINK I DID WELL WITH IT
Anyway, see you on Monday~~~

A Lifetime Of Memories
Chapter Notes
—178 years ago—
The first thing his eyes see is a pool of red.
The first thing his ears hear is silence.
The first thing his body feels is cold.
…his body?
“Oh.” Someone’s voice rings in his… ears? “It’s awake.”
His… eyes? look up from the floor to the three figures standing in the darkness of the room,
right over the body of an old man lying in the same pool of blood that has spread to his
naked… legs?
How does he know what blood is? How does he know the three figures are two men and a
woman?
“Should we dispose of it?” The man with a black eyepatch asks.
“W–wait.” The other stutters, looking at him with disbelief. “It’s actually alive? ”
The woman standing between the two looks at him curiously, head tilted to the side as her
eyes roam over his body. “It is.” She says after a while, her tone light as she walks closer; her
long, blond hair like a veil with pink flowers braided into it cascading on her back. “The
talisman wasn’t flawed, it simply required a sacrifice.”
The… talisman?
Ah, that piece of paper the old man nailed to his chest all these days ago.
“So, do we kill it?” The first man asks again, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The woman hums, now standing less than an arm’s reach from him. “No.” She says, reaching
out and tapping the paper over his chest with the tip of her nail. “We don’t have to.”
It’s… weird. A sharp sting burns over his chest where the talisman slowly buries itself into
his flesh before vanishing under the skin, not a single mark left behind.
“The humans that tried to meddle with life and death are already gone.” She muses, turning
around and walking back to her companions. She isn’t as bothered by his presence as the
other two, she doesn’t seem to mind him but… she doesn’t care about him either. “I fused the
talisman with its body, no one will be able to duplicate it.”
The men look at him for a moment, suspicion in their eyes, but eventually both of them
follow the woman out of the room, moonlight falling on the bloodied floor as they open the
doors.
“Whether it lives or dies isn’t our concern.”
And just like that, he’s alone with the corpses lying all around the floor.
To human eyes, this sight would be that of a horror massacre, but to his …
Until a few moments ago, his eyes were nothing but blue marbles mounted into a wooden
skull, they don’t know what horrors are yet, or what differs macabres from normalcy. He
doesn’t know fear, anger, or sorrow. He doesn’t know anything, not even who he is.
Everything is still slowly sinking into his developing mind, his newfound senses. Memories
that shouldn’t exist start to flood his consciousness, memories of being put together and taken
apart, over and over again. Of men carving his body and nailing different talismans to it, one
after another. There’s no pain in them, because pain didn’t exist for him back then. He didn’t
exist back then.
But he does now, for a reason that is beyond his understanding.
Mindlessly, he takes the first step, then another and another. He passes several other wooden
figures standing around the room, or hanging from the ceiling, all the same like he was, but
none like he is.
He isn’t sure how he knows it, but something tells him staying here any longer isn’t a good
idea.
He covers himself with a long, black cape that has been hanging next to the door, wrapping it
tightly around his naked body to shield it from the cold he has never felt before, and… He
steps out.
The first world he saw was pitch balck and covered with blood.
This world isn’t like that.
It’s illuminated by the silver shine of moonlight, by the glittering dust scattered across the
sky. The air is cold, but it doesn’t have the stench of death tainting it – it’s fresh and it smells
of the scenery around him. Of wide fields and high trees, of the river flowing through the
grass like a dark serpent, light reflected by its lazy moving scales. The ground feels cold
under his feet, wind blowing in his long hair and sending shivers down his spine, but he
continues walking. The other three said it didn’t matter whether he lives or dies, and he
himself isn’t sure if he cares about it or not, but…
This world that’s been waiting outside of the walls of his prison is so beautiful to his eyes,
and he wants to see more of it, he wants to learn more – about it and about himself.
So that’s exactly what he does.
He travels around the never ending fields and countless towns, he learns about humans and
their lives, their habits and beliefs. How they need sleep and food to survive, how their
emotions can be so overwhelming to witness. How similar they are to him, even if they’re not
the same.
Because he doesn’t need to rest, or eat, for his body to continue moving, he doesn’t change
the way humans do, never growing old even though the humans around him age and perish
with time. He doesn’t feel the same emotions they do, only travelling and observing, learning
and experiencing more of it until—
“What’s your name, mister?”
A child’s voice breaks through the wall of his thoughts one day as he sits under the tree in yet
another town he’s passing by. He blinks at the girl standing over him, hears her friends
whispering a few steps behind her. “...why do you ask, kid?” It’s human custom to answer
questions, as he has learnt over the years.
“Because no one knows.” Such a simple reply. “And I’m curious, but my friends are too
scared to ask.”
A child’s curiosity will never cease to amaze him, always outside of his mind’s
understanding. But he can’t say it, another custom says that one should never be impolite,
and that children are to be protected, treated kindly. “I don’t have one.”
The girl’s brows furrow as she crosses her arms. “Everyone has a name.” Every human if you
ask him. “It’s weird, but you probably just forgot.”
A part of him wishes that would be the case, but he knows it’s not.
“You should go back to your friends.” He says instead, an apologetic smile on his face. “And
don’t talk to strangers.”
Pouting, the girl walks away, leaving the man alone with the storm of conflicting thoughts her
words caused. He has no name, no need for one. That the way it has been, the way it is and
the way it will be—
Then why does a part of him wish for a reason to gain it? Like it’s the part he’s missing to be
complete?
And the girl comes back the next day with the same question. A stubborn little thing, indeed.
She comes back every weekend that he spends in the town for the next year. Sometimes, she
doesn’t ask and only talks about the games she plays with her friends, sometimes it’s with her
mother who comes to apologise for how persistent the child is.
A year of questions and no answers.
A year of thinking and searching.
“Hey, mister…”
And then, after months of peace, comes a day when the girl’s hair loses its shine, when her
eyes lose their colour and life as sickness creeps into her body much faster than anyone
wished it would. Faster than anyone expected.
“Have you… remembered… your name, yet…?”
Of course, he hasn’t. There’s nothing for him to remember, but—
“Paul.”
—maybe a name doesn't need to be given by someone to be a part of one’s self. Maybe if he
chooses the sound his heart sings for him, it’ll feel just as right.
“Paul Verlaine.”
“At least it turned out fine, right?”
Paul doesn’t know if he can call it ‘fine’, considering the local authorities spent months trying
to blame him for a crime he didn't’ commit just because he’s a foreigner – not the first time
and certainly not the last one. But what he does know is that this teenager’s persistence in
following him is giving him a headache.
“Don’t you have anything better to do, kid?” He groans. “You solved the case, good for you.
Now, stop bothering me.”
He didn’t come here to be dealing with an annoying brat, even if he’s apparently smart
enough to be working as an investigator despite being barely seventeen. He came to Japan
because… Well, because he got bored of Europe’s conflicts, he wanted a break.
How was he supposed to know it wasn’t peaceful here, either?
“But you’re too interesting!” The teenager sings, patting Paul on the back as if they were
friends.
Ah, of course. “Because I’m a foreigner?”
“Nah, I’m not fully Japanese myself.” So Paul was right, he knew the boy’s features
reminded him of people in Europe. “You’re interesting because you’re weird.”
Ah, his headache is getting worse by the second. “And you are rude.”
“Oh, come on.” The boy sighs. “I helped you out back in that town—”
“It was your job.”
“— and I also move around a lot, we can stick together for a while! My name’s Adam F—”
“I didn’t ask, kid.”
Paul stops, pinching the bridge of his nose as he’s trying to think of a way out of his situation.
He can’t pretend he doesn’t speak Japanese, it’s too late for that, and the boy seems
unbothered by his cold attitude, or by his constant refusals.
What an annoying, persistent brat.
“You can’t come with me.” He says, as firmly as he can without sounding threatening. It
hasn’t even been a day since he was cleared of all accusations, he can’t be risking new ones
now.
“But why?”
Many reasons, some of which should be obvious – like the fact that they don’t know each
other at all – but if this human won’t accept that—
“Because I’m not a human.”
—he will have to accept this. Paul can prove it easily and then it’ll be a simple matter of
human fear. Sure, he isn’t exactly a fan of giving himself away this easily, it causes him too
much trouble and forces him to move to a different city fast, but desperate times require
desperate measures.
Adam stares at him with blown eyes, blinking every once in a while as his mouth hangs open.
“...that’s even more interesting.” He eventually whispers, his lips now stretching into a smile
Paul can’t reciprocate because…
What the hell?
Is this kid okay in the head?
“Did you not hear me correctly, boy?” The blond man furrows his brows at the other.
“Because it wasn’t a joke. I’m really not—”
“A human.” Adam finishes for him with a grin. “Yes, yes. It actually makes sense.”
Ah, so this person is crazy. He should definitely stay away from the boy, or his headaches
will never go away. Or worse, he’ll get into trouble again, or get caught, or gods know what
else.
But, as it turns out, it won’t be that easy.

Not now, when there’s only Adam to cause him problems, and not when more teenagers
come their way.
When a quiet boy with an old scar over his eye becomes a suspect in a theft case in a small
town, just because he ran away from an abusive home. When a boy fascinated with medicine
is thought to be the one responsible for mass poisoning during an officials’ party. Two loud,
very loud teenagers will come their way, a pair of friends that look after one another after
their families were killed during the conflict; and then a boy playing for money on the streets
will also tag along.
It will never be easy to leave these brats alone for too long.
And it will never be easy to admit that Verlaine wants to keep coming back.
From what little information he gathered around the time he first came to be, he was
supposed to be a marionette used for war. Emotionless, not able to feel fear or pain, only
alive to follow orders and kill those who oppose his creators. Obviously, that didn’t turn out
the way humans planned – it’s true that Paul cannot feel physical pain and that his emotions
are… too complicated to explain, but there is nothing urging his soul to follow humans’
commands.
But that’s not important. Not anymore.
The important question here is…
How did he, a weapon older than any human alive, end up in the freezing cold river, trying to
catch fish with his bare hands just so he can have a bunch of annoying brats eat something?
It’s not his fault they all got sick at the same time. He isn’t their caretaker, or anything like
that, he only went to check up on them to make sure they weren’t causing problems for
anyone else, so why—
“Need some help?”
Just as another fish escapes his hold, Paul’s head snaps up, his gaze falling on… A tall, slim
man with a waterfall of night–black hair falling on his shoulders and face; a brown himono
with a dark haori, a crimson scarf tightly wrapped around his neck and chin, and orbs like
gold.
A breathtaking human, to say the least.
“...can you understand me?”

Every inch of Paul’s body and soul – if he has one – is frozen, and not from the cold water,
but from the sight, the voice that sounds like velvet—
“...hello?”
—ah, that makes it the third question he didn’t answer. Fantastic.
“I—yes!” He’s over 150 years old and that’s all he can muster? “I mean, I can understand
you. Hi.”
Good thing Adam and the rest of The Flags aren’t here, because Paul would never hear the
end of it if they saw or heard him right now.
The man, however, smiles at him, his shoulders relaxing visibly. “I’m Arthur. How about
you?”
There’s something in the stranger’s smile that spreads warmth through the blond man’s chest,
an unfamiliar, yet welcome, feeling.
“Paul.”
“Paul. Do you need a hand?” Quirking a brow, Arthur brings his hand up, holding in it… “Or
a net maybe?”
Ah, yes.
Yes, he does.
He’s been around long enough to know how frail a life can be, how easy it is to cut it short,
but never in Paul’s life has it hurt him to watch humans go. He would pity them, but he has
never mourned lives stolen before their time.
Not until now.
There are no tears, his expression doesn’t change, his body doesn’t move.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s all he can offer to the man kneeling on the cold ground in front of the five gravestones, to
the figures he sees standing above them. To the teenagers that have barely turned into adults,
to the stubborn brats he has spent so many days with, watching after them to make sure they
wouldn’t get in trouble. To the ghosts that, between him and Adam, only Paul can see.
“What for?” Adam chokes out, his breath hitching as he’s holding back his sobs. “It wasn’t
your fault.”
Verlaine knows that. He isn’t apologising for causing any of it, or for not being able to
change their fate – he’s apologising for… For how no weapon could ever kill him, for how no
sickness can ever take him away the way it did their friends. For being there to bury them,
but never being allowed to join them.
“If I could switch places with them,” He whispers, though it rings loud in the silence all
around the forest. “I would.”
“Don’t say that.” Adam answers, his voice shaky with all the sorrow he’s trying to keep
inside his heart. “They wouldn’t want that.”
And that only stings more.
Because Paul has continued to live on while whole generations of humans came and went, it
wouldn’t be bad, or selfish, for the five men who barely got to live two decades to want some
of the time he had for themselves. To live out lives they deserved, to see the world that was
waiting for them.
…but of course, they would never ask for it.
They would never ask a friend to die in their stead.
“...what are you going to do now?” He asks the other, watching Adam’s back as the young
man stands up, wiping his face with his sleeve.
“There’s a shrine nearby.” The boy says as he turns around, his eyes and face red from tears
shed over the last few days. “I’ll try to find some work there, I… I can’t leave them. We
promised to stay together.”
Somehow, Paul expected this.
He met Adam when the boy was travelling from town to town, be it to seek safety or
amusement, but he was never blind to the bond that formed between him and the other five
over the few years they were granted together. It makes sense for him to stay, just like it
makes sense for the ghosts to continue walking on this earth, watching as their friend
continues to live from afar.
“What about you?”
Ah, this is a good question indeed.
“I don’t know.” He can’t stay, just like he never could in the past, but at least there was
always a reason in not leaving, in not moving on with his travels and continuing to cross his
path with the men Verlaine grew to think of as friends. Because he had these brats to look
after, even if they didn’t actually need it. Because he had companions that would always wait
for the days of his return.
He still has Adam, the first human he called a friend, the first human to know who, or what,
Paul really is and accept it without fear, but—
“What about that person? The one you visit so often?”
—in just a few weeks, the boy he once knew matured into a man who doesn’t need his
protection. A man who seeks to build his peace with his own two hands, from the shadows of
his own sorrow.
And who is Paul to keep him clinging to the past they can’t go back to?
“...already trying to get rid of me, huh?” It’s light, a joke that flows out from his lips so
naturally after all this time and, despite all the pain, Adam’’s lips twitch at the corners.
And so do the ghosts’.
“Aren’t you happy?” The younger man teases weakly. “There was a time when you’d spend
hours trying to get me to leave you alone.”
Ah, yes. He’ll never forget all the headaches from these days.
How insignificant they feel right now.
“We’re still friends, Paul.” Adam continues after a pause. “And I’m not saying I don’t want
you to continue visiting, because I do, it’s just…”
He fears he knows what the other is about to say and he’s not ready to face it—
“You seem happy when you talk about him. Truly happy.”
—because how can he ever try to reach for something he will never be allowed to grasp?
“It’s not really my name.” Paul says one evening. “I… I made it up.”
Sitting by the small fire on the riverside, Arthur watches as the other man throws a fishnet
down the stream. It reminds him of the first time they met, 4 years ago. It’s the same river,
though the season is much warmer now, and they’re not strangers anymore. Even if what they
are isn’t exactly clear.
“Is there something else you’d like me to call you?”
Paul stares at the water splashing on the rocks and around his legs, asking himself why he
brought that up in the first place. “...no.” He mutters, almost too quiet to be heard. “I just
wanted you to know that.”
Because, for some reason he can’t quite understand, it’s been bothering him all this time that
Arthur just… believes in everything the other says. He never questions him, no matter how
weird his excuses may sound at times. He doesn’t even comment on how Paul always claims
he can’t stay around and, yet, meets up with him every week by the riverside.
It was never meant to turn into something more, into a constant in Paul’s life. It was just a
random encounter, nothing more, but then they’d meet again and again… At some point, the
man who never looked back found himself returning to the town he knew was home to this
kind stranger. And then, when Adam told him what Paul always tried to ignore, it became…
this.
Something complicated, and probably unwise.
Something Verlaine can’t seem to let go of.
Sitting by the river and talking for as long as the fire lasts them – somehow, Arthur is always
cold, no matter the season – or meeting in the town for a meal; other people call them friends
and it’s the closest name Paul can give it, but… It doesn’t feel quite right in his heart.
“Do you hate it?” Arthur asks, head slightly tilted to the side, making a long strand of black
hair fall across his face. “The name you gave me, I mean.”
Paul hesitates, caught off guard by the question. “No, I don’t.” He answers slowly. “But
it…”
How does he explain?
“Sometimes, it feels like I’m lying to you, so… I don’t know. I just wanted you to know.”
“Hmm, but I think it’s a nice name.” Arthur’s voice is light, effortlessly gentle. “It suits you.”
“What does that even mean?” The other snorts, shaking his head as a small smile blooms on
his face. “It’s just a random name I came up with a long time ago.” Decades before Arthur
was even born, no less.
A chuckle rings from behind him and when Paul looks over his shoulder, he’s met with a
smile so honest it makes the fibres of his being tremble. “Maybe that’s why it suits you so
well, because you chose it yourself.”
Happiness can be blinding and, sometimes, it’s okay to let your eyes fall close, let your heart
take you where it yearns to go. It sounds like a beautiful concept – trusting whatever little joy
you have in life not to lead you to your demise – but it’s also dangerous and in Paul’s case…
There are some things he can’t risk.

He continues standing at the happiness’ border, always having what he wishes for within his
reach and always choosing to let it go.
He chooses not to get involved when he learns about Arthur’s engagement with his childhood
friend, something both of their parents planned years ago. He chooses not to even try to take
Arthur away because he knows he could never do that. (He doesn’t see the way the gold eyes
follow him, the way they yearn for a simple question that never gets asked.)
Instead, Paul watches as life unfolds itself before his eyes.
Arthur gets married to a woman he cares for, even if there’s no love between them, they
move out to a distant, more peaceful, village and build a small hut by the forest. The woman
doesn’t hate him, she always welcomes Paul with a bright smile when he comes to visit.
One day, she welcomes him with a baby on the way.
…and another day, it’s only the baby and Arthur waiting for him in the small hut.
Yet again, guilt digs its claws into Paul’s heart – he doesn’t want to use the woman’s death as
his second chance at happiness, he knows it’s unfair, but he can’t just leave Arthur like that,
alone and with a child so… bright and small. Occasional visits turn into weekly ones again,
then he starts staying for a few days at a time before leaving again, only to come back three
or four nights after.
He helps Arthur with his work, with preparing meals and with taking care of Chuuya. And,
gods, how much he comes to love that boy.
How his carefree, little smiles make his worries fade away, how proud he is when the child
takes its first steps, or speaks its first words. Every time he has to leave, it’s like a hundred
daggers piercing through his body. Chuuya’s cries tear his heart apart; saying goodbye to
Arthur, even if he knows he’ll be back soon, gets more and more agonising with each closed
door he leaves behind.
He wants to stay with them, he wants it so bad—
“Why won’t you move in with us?”
—but he knows he can’t.
Chuuya is already asleep and the two of them have only just finished cleaning around the hut,
sitting by the fireplace with a cup of hot tea each. Paul’s mind feared a day would come when
this question gets asked, his heart hoped it would happen.
“...I’m sorry.”
He hoped just to hear it, just to know that he is wanted by the people his old, cold heart chose
to love.
“Why?” Arthur doesn’t sound angry or disappointed, he sounds like he doesn’t want to give
up. Like despite anything, he wants to try and try and try all over again. “If it’s about the
villagers’ opinion, it really won’t bother me, or Chuuya—”
“It’s not that.” Paul cuts him off, his hands tightening around his cup. Sure, two men living
together would be most likely frowned upon, but there’s a much bigger problem.
The other man watches him in silence, only the child’s calm breathing and the fire’s cracking
ringing in the hut. “...do you not want to?”
“I do.” Verlaine blurts out, desperate to hide the emotions threatening to spill out of his soul.
“But I can’t.”
“...” A sigh. “Won’t you at least tell me why, then?” Arthur tries again, quieter than before.
He should, he really should. Paul should have told him the truth years ago instead of keeping
it a secret from the man who has never lied to him, from the man who trusts him not only
with his own life, but also with his child’s.
“I’m…” But it’s not easy to speak the truth when you fear its consequences will take
everything away from you. “...it’s complicated.”
Arthur lets out a fond chuckle at that. “We’re raising a boy who has more energy than the two
of us put together—”
We.
“—I think I can handle ‘complicated’.”
He said ‘we’.
How can such a simple word break the high walls of Paul’s resolve so easily? Make him
choke on a sob mourning the life he never truly had.
“...” He knows it doesn’t make sense to doubt Arthur, it doesn’t make sense and yet the
possibility still scares him. “If I tell you…” He takes a deep breath, looking the other in the
eyes. “...can you promise not to hate me?”
Gold eyes widen at the request, confusion and concerts shining brightly in them before it’s
replaced by determination. “Paul.” His hand reaches out, but instead of resting on his
shoulder as it usually would, it comes to stroke the blond hair ever so affectionately. “I could
never hate you.”
And no matter his doubts, Paul believes these words. He believes in the gentle smile and the
hand caressing his cheek, warm and delicate. After all this time, the truth seems to escape his
lips like a breath he’s been holding for far too long.
“I’m not a human.”
A second of silence feels longer than his entire life, a heartbeat is all it takes for regret to
creep into his mind—
“Ah, I thought that would be the case.”
—only to be shattered by the sudden punch that calm confession throws at him.
Why does it feel like deja vu?
“I’ve always had a good intuition about these things.” Arthur explains, chucking at Paul’s
wide eyes and confused expression. “Chuuya’s mom as well.”
They both knew? Moreso, they both knew and allowed him so close to their lives, their son?
“But I’m not bothered by it, if that’s what you were worried—”
“No.” Verlaine cuts him off, still trying to put the pieces together without asking at least a
dozen questions. “I mean, yes, I was worried about it, but that’s not…” He lets out a heavy
sigh, his fingers wrapping around Arthur’s wrist to guide his hand away from his face. “It’s
hard to explain, but there’s this thing that keeps me alive – that gave me life – and…”
In a way, it’s a burden he was given in exchange to walk among humans. Walk, but never
stay.
“If I stay…”
A price he didn’t know he paid until he learnt it the cruel way, all those decades ago.
“...it will kill you both.”
Because whenever he stays around the same humans long enough, the talisman that’s inside
of him – the curse that was fused with him, that became him – it starts to feed on their
lifeforce. Paul doesn’t know why, or how, he doesn’t know if it’s possible to make it stop. He
only knows 10 days is the limit before he has to leave, before he has to trick the talisman into
believing he’s always moving around.
So, yes, Paul does want to stay.
But, no, he won’t.
And this time, Arthur must accept it.
However, he doesn’t let Paul’s curse destroy the happiness the three of them deserve. He
doesn’t let the limit they must obey take away the smiles and laughter they share. Because as
long as they can reset it, they’ll be fine. As long as the talisman stays asleep, they’ll be
together.
…but in the end, it’s not the curse that steals their future, it’s not the curse that steals Arthur’s
life – it’s sickness. Like a ghost of the past that keeps on following Paul through the decades
he walks on this earth.
It’s the first time Paul learns how much it burns to hold back tears.
It’s the first time he learns how suffocating it feels to swallow down sobs and screams.
But the body in his arms is more important than his own sorrow, the child that he’s holding
close to let it cry and scream for them both is more important than the pain of his broken
heart. He must let Chuuya wail and beg for his dad to come back, and he must do it in
silence, comforting the boy the best he can. Because Chuuya is too kind, if the boy sees him
crying… it’ll only break his small heart more.
Because the child needs someone to be there for him, because he needs to believe it’ll be
okay. Paul can’t succumb to his despair when Chuuya needs him to be strong, when the
redhead clings to him like Paul is everything he’s got left even though—
“Please, take him in.”
—even though he can never be what Chuuya needs him to be.
It’s in the darkness of the old room at an old shrine that only one plea can leave his throat, the
cries of a child that refused to sleep for days still loud in his mind.
“Paul—”
“Please.” Paul’s eyes are squeezed shut, his hands tightening into fists as he’s forcing the
words out. He can’t see Adam sitting in front of him, he can’t see the pain written all over his
friend’s face. “Please, take him in.”
He needs to make sure Chuuya is cared for, he has to be sure.
“Paul, I—”
He can’t give the boy what he deserves, he can’t give him anything other than pain, no matter
how much he tries.
“I don’t have anyone else to ask, please--”
“Paul!”
Adam’s hands gripping his shoulders startle Verlaine, the firm voice finally getting through
the storm of cries that are yet to be heard. “I will.” The man says, concerts clear in his eyes as
his voice softens. “I will, so…”
Ah, Chuuya will be safe.
He will get a chance to be happy again.
“You can let it out now.”
Adam never met Chuuya’s dad, he can’t mourn a man he knows so little about, but he knows
his friend and his heart aches for him because—
“You loved him, didn’t you?”

It’s these words that shatter everything Paul has been trying to contain, break every thread he
used to keep himself together. Because he did and, yet, he never said it.
For the first time in his life, Paul learns how hot a tear falling down his face feels.
For the first time in his long, long life he learns how to cry.
How, once you let that one tear escape, you won’t be able to stop the rest of them. How the
sobs won’t care about how much your throat hurts, how the violent shaking of your shoulders
won’t stop, no matter how much you curl in on yourself, or how close someone who cares
holds you.
Paul lets his pain free, he lets his sorrow burn and cut his soul as he tries to find an answer—
Why Arthur? Why so soon?
Why not him?
And in a couple of hours, after his tears have already dried up, he’ll find himself asking
another question – one that hurts just as much if not more…
“Don’t go!” Chuuya cries out to him as he breaks free from Adam’s hold, running up to his
uncle.
Why is his fate making him hurt the boy he loves like his own son?
Paul didn’t know it was possible to shatter his heart even more, but—
“Don’t leave me alone!”
—Chuuya’s desperate cries prove him wrong. Tears that are meant for him, tears that Paul
caused are sharper than any sword, colder than any gaping emptiness inside his soul the man
has ever felt. And all he can do is hug this child as tight as he can while whispering apologies
full of pain and guilt.
Because they stayed together for 11 days already and Paul can’t grant Chuuya his wish. He
will have to stay away for at least a month to break the connection the talisman has started to
form between them. He would give this boy the world if he could, he would give him
anything—
“I’ll come back soon.”
—but not at the cost of Chuuya’s life.
“I promise.”
(And he will always end up leaving, for the boy’s sake.)

—present time—
“Th—that’s why you left?” Chuuya’s eyes are wide, staring at the blond man sitting in front
of him, at the uncle he thought he understood after all these years.
As it turns out, he didn’t. Not really.
Throughout the whole story, Chuuya kept silent – he was calm, all things considered, maybe
even too calm for the kind of story that it was – but now…
It’s not the fact that Paul isn’t human, the redhead had almost an entire day to get used to that
thought, it’s not even the fact that his ‘origins’ are more unusual than for most people he
knows. Chuuya wanted to appear angry in the beginning, just to show what he thinks about
his family keeping all these secrets from him but—
But Paul is alive, and after everything that’s happened in the past months, it’s the only thing
Chuuya cares about.
Or so he thought.
Because learning about his uncle’s burdens, about everything he has to go through and about
all the deaths he has seen over the decades… There are many emotions going on in Chuuya.
He’s grateful for the years he chose to spend with him despite it never being easy. He
appreciates everything his uncle has done for him, for Adam and the Flags.
His heart aches for all the sorrows Paul carries inside his soul.
And he feels guilty for adding to that pain with his words, with words of a child that didn’t
know, didn’t ask how his uncle felt. Words of a boy that thought it wasn’t fair to him to be
left alone, even if Chuuya was never truly alone in the end.
The redhead knows what he’s going to hear, he knows and he understands that it wasn’t his
fault. He was never told about any of this, he was just a young boy who watched his dad die
and was feeling lost in this world. All he wanted was the family he knew to stay but, instead,
uncle Paul left.
Of course, Chuuya was too young to fully understand, there was no way for him to see past
the image of a loving uncle Paul that he had in his mind but—
“I didn’t want to, kid.” Paul says with a sad smile. “But I had to. I always have to.”
—it doesn’t make the pain Chuuya caused his uncle at the time any less agonising.
“I…” He looks down at his hands, gripping at the material of his kimono. “I’m sorry.” He
mutters through a lump of guilt forming in his throat.
“You don’t have anything to apologise for, Chuuya.” Ah, see? There it is. “You couldn’t have
known.”
“...” The redhead can feel a hand coming to rest on his shoulder, gentle as ever, it’s almost
unfairly soothing. “But I hurt you that day, didn’t I?”
With his tears and desperate begging for Verlaine to stay, Chuuya was too lost in his own
grief to think about how his uncle would feel. Yes, he was a child. Yes, anyone would react
this way.
No, it does not make him feel better.
Paul lets out a sigh and it sounds like he’s letting years of bottled up misery escape him with
this one, simple breath. “I was hurt by many things. Your father’s death, this curse I bear—”
“And me.” Chuuya cuts him off, his shoulders falling low, but never shaking the other’s hand
off.
There’s silence.
Long, deafening silence with only their breathing sounding like a thousand funeral bells.
And then, there’s warmth all around Chuuya as Paul pulls him into a gentle hug. “And me
leaving hurt you too.” The man whispers into the red hair, stroking it affectionately as the
boy also wraps his arms around him.
“...you couldn’t help it, though.”
“And you couldn’t have known that.” Paul repeats. “We’re both here now, and it’s all that
matters”
He makes it sound so simple, too simple – old Chuuya would have argued, he would have
continued to resent himself for actions he had no control over, for feelings and words he
didn’t know would be this heavy, but…
He’s not his old self.
The scars on his heart are only there because he has learnt that hating himself isn’t the
answer, he was shown how to seek the sparkle of acceptance and forgiveness in the darkness
of guilt and despair. The scars are there and they may itch ever so often, but they’re not open
wounds anymore.
…and maybe, just maybe, Paul is right.
Maybe the day they both hurt each other can be lost in the past, overshadowed by the
happiness they found for themselves in the present.
“Okay.” Chuuya mumbles into the man’s chest, the stiffness leaving his body. “But, you
know…”
“Hm?”
Chuuya’s lips curl up into a mischievous smirk he’s glad is hidden from Paul’s sight, or it
would have given everything away. “For someone almost two centuries old, you’re really bad
at keeping this not–human thing a secret.”
Somewhere in the corner of the room, Adam snorts at the comment. He’s been sitting there
all this time in case Chuuya had questions for him, but ended up only listening to the
exchange between him and Verlaine in silence, most likely reliving the past in his mind.
“Excuse me, young man.” Paul sounds comically offended. “I don’t recall you ever realising
that detail about me on your own.”
“Uncle Adam realised it after knowing you for just a few weeks—”
“He did not.” The man huffs, letting Chuuya pull away. “He wasn’t surprised by it, but he
didn’t know.”
Holding back a laugh, Adam moves closer to the two of them. “And after telling me once,
you wouldn’t shut up about it for—”
“How about you shut up now, old brat?”
Chuuya’s laughter rings in the room when he hears that. Paul may be much older than them,
sure, but hearing him call uncle Adam, an adult man, a ‘brat’ is surprisingly amusing,
considering the blond man looks younger.
“Well.” The redhead speaks up, brushing a lone tear away. “From what you’ve told me, my
parents knew.”
“They had a hunch.”
“So they knew.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Paul glares at Adam when the man pats his back while still
laughing at the exchange between the other two. “It doesn’t count.” The man tries to argue.
“They were simply weird like that, they could also feel that fox's presence before ever
hearing about him for the first time and still claimed they felt safe while living by the forest.”
Huh?
Chuuya has never heard about anyone feeling safe around here, so why—
“Which reminds me.” Paul continues, straightening his back as his gaze falls back on the
redhead and… His face is too serious, too much like that of a parent, for whatever that will
come out of his lips to be safe.
“You and that fox. Explain. Now.”
Oh, no.
Chuuya doesn’t need to be told about it, he can already feel uncle Paul giving him ’the talk’,
regardless of whether he asks for it or not. If this world has any love for him left, at least
Verlaine won’t try to do the same with Dazai. Because that, hilarious as it may be, would be a
disaster Chuuya isn’t mentally prepared for.
“Just keep in mind.” The redhead starts carefully. “He really can be nice.”
Sometimes. Not very often, but sometimes.
“He wanted to tie a ribbon around me when he found me!”
Ah, this is going to be extremely difficult, then…
Chapter End Notes
Did I write a short tragic-ending Rimbaud x Verlaine fic in my skk story? MAYBE,
MAYBE, WHO CAN STOP ME?
Also, a short FYI: 'Nakahara' is Chuuya's mother's last name, they kept it because it was
easier for everyone to pronounce, rather than 'RIimbaud' !
Aaaaaaand, while dolls, or marionettes, powered by spells or talismans are a thing in

general Asian folklore, this one was completely my imagination, so I’m not even sure if
there’s any resemblance to any of the Japanese stories… Which is something I’ll be
doing a lot, but I hope it’ll be interesting!
Payback
Chapter Notes
Chuuya’s birthday was full of surprises of all kinds, but the days that follow are like a calm
stream lazily flowing forward – unperturbed even when the turns are sharp.
After Verlaine’s story, it’s Chuuya’s turn to explain how he ended up in a kitsune’s den, as a
kitsune’s partner no less. There are parts he chooses to omit – like the reason why the
travellers were chasing after him – and there are also parts that are not pleasant to mention, or
even remember. But all of it is important to help his uncle understand, so Chuuya shares as
much as he can.
For Adam, it’s nothing too new; he’s heard most, even if not all, of it during their visit at the
shrine and then yesterday’s morning, when the redhead was helping him in the kitchen.
Verlaine, however, is hearing the story for the first time and… well, as expected, he doesn’t
like it. Not the beginning of it, anyway.
He’s worried, the frown doesn’t leave his face throughout the entire time Chuuya tells him
about Ace, Shirase, and his visit to uncle Adam’s. Apologies full of guilt and regret are the
only words that the blond man allows to find a way out of his mind – because he should have
been there for Chuuya, and he wasn’t.
But then the redhead reassures him that it’s fine, that he is fine now, and when he finally gets
to tell how he and Dazai found a way into each other’s life and hearts…
Well, it’s embarrassing.
And very, very tricky.
Not only because it means navigating between what can and can’t be said out loud, but also
because Chuuya needs to make sure to show uncle Paul how this isn’t a mistake. That he
doesn’t have to worry, that Dazai isn’t a threat – not to Chuuya, anyway – and that he’s
happy. There’s no doubt that Verlaine wants what’s best for the boy, or that he wouldn’t stand
in the way of his happiness, but he doesn’t have as much to go with as uncle Adam does. He
had only met the kitsune two days ago, and even that was in rather… peculiar
circumstances.
In the end, it’s always easier to show, rather than to explain.
His uncles stay for a few more days after the birthday party, the three of them spending time
together just like they used to back when Chuuya was staying at the shrine as a child, all
while Verlaine is slowly growing used to Dazai.
Eating a meal together here, going for a walk there.

Nothing in the way uncle Paul treats Dazai indicates any sort of hostility, even if the man is
being cautious around the fox at first, understandably so. Dazai is still a demon that Verlaine
doesn’t know, no matter how much Chuuya reassures him, and sometimes learning things on
your own is the only solution. That, and having uncle Adam around to ease at least some of
his worries away with how calm he is around the fox.
After a while, Chuuya finds himself noticing more and more about his uncle – about how he
feels towards Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings – and the realisation is slowly, but steadily,
flowing into his mind. Like a seed that was gently planted among his thoughts without
Chuuya noticing; always there, but only noticeable once it starts sprouting with the ideas the
boy is finally seeing clearly.
Verlaine isn’t opposed to Chuuya’s current lifestyle, to living with demons and being Dazai’s
partner, no. It feels more like his uncle is having a hard time accepting that the redhead isn’t a
child anymore, that it is normal for him to be in a relationship and make his own decisions.
That’s what differs uncle Paul from uncle Adam.
Because Adam, while caring and a little too fond of treating Chuuya as if he was still a kid,
has never been the overprotective type. When he first took the boy in, Chuuya needed
someone to lean on, yes, but he also needed space. He was already ten years old then, and
while it’s still considered young, it’s also the age at which most children help their parents
around the house and at work. Adam witnessed Chuuya become independent first–hand, he
helped him hone his skills to make a living on his own.
Verlaine, on the other hand, watched Chuuya grow up from being a baby. He can be insanely
overprotective and a part of him must still be seeing the redhead like that – like a kid he’s
looking after, like a kid that’s so innocent and sweet in his eyes. Which Chuuya is not.
Not anymore.
And it feels like Paul is only now letting that realisation sink in, like he’s only now starting to
accept that the time didn’t stop when Chuuya was five, or even ten years old. That the
redhead doesn’t need to hold his hand to walk on his own, that he doesn’t need Verlaine’s
protection as he once did. Those are the times the redhead fondly looks back at, the memories
he cherishes with all his heart, but they are in the past.
This – Dazai – is the present.
And maybe, hopefully, his future.
As the days go by, Verlaine’s attitude changes from sceptical and cautious to something more
open, even if the hint of worry never truly leaves his eyes. Sometimes, when the boy looks at
the older man… Chuuya can swear he sees his dad in him.
In his loving eyes and comforting smiles, in the hint of parental protectiveness whenever
Dazai is too close, and in the quiet stubbornness emanating from Verlaine whenever the fox
shows off his affection a bit too openly, on purpose or not. At these times, his uncle’s face
looks exactly like what the boy imagines his dad’s face would look if he could see him.
Maybe he has always looked like this.
Maybe Chuuya has always seen him as his parent, even if they don’t share the same blood.
In a way, it makes the boy’s chest bloom with warmth to see his dad in uncle Paul. They look
nothing alike physically, their characters were very different, from what Chuuya remembers,
but the one thing they had in common was this—
It was how they both loved Chuuya. How they still do.
And if even the overprotective and stubborn uncle Paul can and is happy for Chuuya to be
with the person he wishes to spend his days with, then his dad would also feel like this.
Hopefully, he does. Whenever he is right now.
Much to Chuuya’s surprise, Dazai also opens up more to his family. It’s not on the same level
as with the Akutagawa siblings, of course, but it’s much better that it was before. Not only
does he answer all the questions, but he is also the one to ask more and more, slowly getting
used to how a conversation should flow. It’s not perfect, it may never be because that’s just
how Dazai is, but he’s trying and that fact alone is enough to bring a smile to Chuuya’s face.
However, no matter how much Chuuya wishes to make those lazy and warm moments last
longer, neither Paul nor Adam can stay here forever. Be it the priest's responsibilities, or a
curse – they have to leave when the ten days limit knocks at their door…
“Guivre now knows this place.” Verlaine says, his hands resting on Chuuya’s shoulder. “So
no more ignoring my letters, okay?”
Rolling his eyes, the redhead huffs out a laugh. It’s not like he was ignoring them before, he
simply forgot. “Yes, I know.”
“And no more getting in trouble.”
“How am I supposed to—”
“And no more telling me you’re dating a kitsune, or anything like that, out of nowhere,
young man. I need to know in advance, unless you want me to have a heart attack. Also—”
“Give it a rest, Paul.” Laughing into the sleeve of his kimono, Adam pats the other man’s
back. “You’re being a worrywart again.”
“I worry a healthy amount…”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Once Verlaine takes a step away, mumbling to himself about how
it’s Adam who doesn’t worry enough, Chuuya is pulled into a hug. “It was a lovely few days,
kid. We should do that more often.”
“Yeah.” Chuuya sighs, wrapping his arms around his uncle briefly and burying his face in the
man's chest. “I know I already said it, but this time I will really try to see you more.” As he
pulls away, Adam ruffling his hair, the redhead looks between his uncles. “Both of you.”
Adam doesn’t leave the shrine unless it’s for Chuuya and if Dazai found Verlaine once, he
can do it again. Not to mention that Paul is most likely going to make Guivre – the bird – fly
here a lot from now on, to make sure Chuuya is fine and alive.
“I’ll remember that promise.” Winking teasingly, Adam sends the boy a smirk. “Well then.
Your friend is waiting for me, so I’ll get going.”
After saying his goodbyes to both Chuuya and Paul, the priest walks away to where Ryuu is
standing not too far from them and, soon enough, the two of them disappear in a cloud of
dark smoke. Just like that, uncle Adam is gone from the forest, back to where his duties, and
his old friends, are waiting for him.
Turning to the older man, Chuuya offers him a shy smile, uncertain of whether he should be
saying this or not, but—
“I really wish you could stay longer.”
Even if he knows Verlaine can’t do that. From what Dazai has said, the curse his uncle carries
cannot be undone because the talisman that is the source of it has been integrated into his
body. The kitsune can’t separate it, and he doubts anyone would be able to.
“Me too, kid.” Paul must have felt like this every single time he had to leave, every time he
had to protect those he cares about from himself. “But we’ll see each other again.” He glances
at the house, where the fox is patiently waiting on the engawa, giving Chuuya time and space
to be with his family for a moment. “Soon, I presume?”
“I can’t promise when exactly, but yes. I’ll try to make it soon.”
“I raised you to be ‘just trying’, huh…” When Chuuya rolls his eyes at the comment while
still smiling, Verlaine’s lips stretch into a grin. “Come here.” He pulls the redhead into a hug,
resting his chin on top of the boy’s head and rubbing his back.
For a second, they’re both quiet.
They’re both basking in being so close, so open for the first time with each other. Even if
they don’t have all the answers, there are no more secrets between them – they don’t have to
hide, or make excuses.
“...are you sure you don’t want Ryuu to take you somewhere?” His voice is muffled by
Verlaine’s clothes and by the unwillingness of letting the man go just yet.
Verlaine snorts fondly. “I see I’m not welcome here anymore.” Then, he gives the boy one
last squeeze before letting him go. “I’m sure. Your friends’ spells are convenient, but Guivre
doesn’t seem to like them.”
As if sensing them talking about her, the bird calls out to them in a high–pitched whistle from
one of the trees’ crowns, soaring from the branches and settling on Verlaine’s shoulder.
“If you say so…” How uncle Paul doesn’t feel pain when her claws dig into his body,
Chuuya will never understand. The boy reaches out with his hand, scratching the bird on the
neck. “Look after him, won’t you?”
“And you look out for her when she—”
“—delivers your letter. Yes, yes, I know.”
Letting out a sigh, Verlaine shakes his head, his smile never faltering. “You and Adam are
both such brats. What do I have with you…”
Fun.
Family.
A place to go back to—
“You have something to keep you from turning into an old, nagging grandpa.” The redhead
teases, a cheeky smirk stretching his lips. “You’re too young for that.”
“I’m literally almost two hundred years old, though?”
“Yes, but you look barely thirty.” Guivre calls out again, seemingly agreeing and making
Chuuya chuckle at how it makes the older man roll his eyes. “See?”
“You three are such brats, I swear.”
“You should take it as a compliment, you know?”
“I’ll think about it, but for now…” With a simple move of his shoulder, Guivre knows it’s
time to go, flying away and into the sky. “...I need to go.” He plants a quick kiss on Chuuya’s
forehead, ruffling his hair the same way Adam did before. “If anything happens, let me know
right away, okay?”
Smirking, the boy crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll think about it.”
With one last sigh and a muttered ‘brat’ under his breath, Verlaine turns around and… walks
away, disappearing among the trees surrounding the house. It’s a sight Chuuya knows all too
well, the same back of a man he has seen leaving many, many times.
But it’s different.
This time, the redhead doesn’t cry, isn’t heartbroken or let down by his uncle’s decision – this
time, he understands—
“Can I have my little human back now?”
—and he isn’t alone.
—
The next month goes by in a blink of an eye as Chuuya, Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings
settle back into the old routine, only adding to it replying to Verlaine’s letters and occasional,
quick visits to check up on Adam. The days turn more and more hot, the flowers in the
garden change as spring gives way to summer, blooming in different colours as the sun
mercilessly kisses the world with its heat.
Everything goes back to normal…
Except for this one small surprise that Chuuya has tried very hard to keep a secret from
Dazai.
“What is Chibi so intensively thinking about, hm~?”
The question startles Chuuya for a second, his hand halting, buried in the dark locks his
fingers have been running through until now. Dazai doesn’t move to look at him, he’s still
comfortably lying on his side, his head resting on Chuuya’s lap. His fox ears flicker from
time to time, tickling the redhead’s thigh through the material of his kimono, and his tails are
sprawled around the floor of the engawa.
Sunlight warms the world around them, a gentle breeze carrying Dazai’s soft humming into
the depths of the forest as the two of them just… stay like this. In a world of their own.
“...nothing.” Chuuya sighs after a moment. “I’m not thinking about anything right now.”
“Liar~” The kitsune muses, turning his body until he’s lying on his back, a dark eye staring
into the shining skies and a smirk stretching on his lips. “You can’t lie to me, little human.”
Dazai’s tails move closer, curling around Chuuya’s back. “But it’s adorable when you try~”
The redhead’s huffs, defiance bright on his face. “Fine.” He says, retracting his hands to rest
on the sides of his body instead of the fox’s hair. “I’ve been thinking about how incredibly
and annoyingly lazy you are.”
Which isn’t exactly a lie, Chuuya thinks about it a lot.
“I thought that’s what one’s birthday is supposed to be for, though?”
Well… that’s true.
But someone who is being lazy every single day should be banned from using this excuse. If
nothing else, Chuuya isn’t going to accept it, not out loud.
“Plus,” The fox continues cheerfully. “Chibi was the one who insisted on making a big deal
out of it.”
Again – true.
Dazai told him about how birthdays are rarely ever celebrated in the yōkai world and, even if
they are, they tend to be celebrated every decade or every century, not yearly. But Chuuya
doesn’t care about that; he’s sure the kitsune will make sure to make his birthday special
every year, so the redhead simply wants to do the same for the fox.
Besides… Chuuya is a human.
Why would he want to wait 10 years when they can make it special today?
“And you insist on spending the whole day using my legs as a pillow.”
Dazai grins, fangs flashing from behind his lips as red starts to mix with the darkness of his
eye, overtaking the lazy night with crimson intent. “I wouldn’t mind spending the whole day
doing something else~”
His fingers play with Chuuya’s, stroking the skin on the back of his hand next to Dazai’s
shoulder, hooking their fingers together. His hand, his grin – all of it screams what the fox
has in mind, and Chuuya hears it too well, his cheeks heating up despite how he tries to hide
it behind an annoyed roll of his eyes.
“Do you always think about only one thing?”
“No.” Dazai purrs. “But I always think about Chuuya.”
…that’s unfair.
Somewhat flattering and making the redhead’s heart beat faster, but still unfair.
“And…” His other arm moves away from the floor, extending to the boy’s face and brushing
his cheek affectionately. The back of Dazai’s fingers barely caress the heated skin and, yet,
Chuuya can feel his blush growing darker under the touch. “...the present I got this morning
was very pleasant.” The kitsune’s index finger drags lightly over Chuuya’s bottom lip. “You
might get me addicted.”
Somehow, the boy saw it coming, he knew Dazai would keep on reminding him because…
Chuuya didn’t plan to do it, but then he woke up and the kitsune was actually asleep – which
doesn’t happen often, the fox usually either doesn’t sleep at all or wakes up before him – it
was a chance he may not get again for a while. It would have been such a waste not to take it,
it made Chuuya a bit more brave than he usually is about their intimate life.
Because Dazai is the one to do the most work during their bed affairs, not that the redhead is
just lying there because that’s far from the truth, but the kitsune seems to enjoy taking the
lead, so Chuuya goes with it. But seeing his sleeping face gave the boy an idea and…
Well, the kitsune seemed pleased to be woken up with a kiss, not for the first time.
And then he seemed even more pleased about watching Chuuya ride him later on. But that’s
something the redhead doesn’t need to be remembering now.
He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to sound unfazed. “I think you already are.” Addicted,
that is.
Dazai’s hand slides from Chuuya’s cheek to his hair as the fox pushes himself up on one arm
and pulls the other slightly down until their lips meet. Despite the desire that shone in Dazai’s
eyes before, the kiss is anything but lustful. It’s slow, lasting but not growing deeper as their
lips dance together, their breaths mixing into one.
“Maybe I am.” Dazai whispers when they part.
Their faces are still close, Chuuya’s hair falling around them like a waterfall of liquid fire
separating them from the world stretching around.
“I…” The boy’s gaze is held hostage by the red eye, his voice quiet with a hint of uncertainty.
“I may have another present still waiting…?” He says, almost shy.
It’s something Chuuya hopes Dazai will like, because it’s the only thing he could think of –
other than himself, of course, but he’s not that shameless to be doing that. The morning was
enough already.
“Oh?” The fox’s ears perk up and flicker when Chuuya’s hair tickles them at the movement.
“But you’ll have to get up for it.”
“Ah…” Dazai falls back on Chuuya’s lap, his hair like a dark halo sprawled around the
redhead’s legs. “Chibi is asking me to give up my little paradise so soon?”
How dramatic.
How very much like him.
“Yes, I am.” The boy pokes the fox’s forehead, ignoring the pout it earns him. “You can have
it again later.”
The promise seems to be enough – the stupid fox must know by now that Chuuya always
keeps his word, and that he boy is far from hating their alone time – because with one last
exaggerated sigh, Dazai pushes himself up from the boy’s lap and sits up next to him, tilting
his head curiously. Chuuya slides off the wooden panels and stands on the grass, stretching
his legs and back after sitting for so long before glancing at the kitsune.
“You’ll have to get up even more than that.”
With a snort, Dazai stands up next to the redhead, his ears perked up and facing forward
curiously…
Good. It’s a sign that Chuuya’s attempts at making it a surprise weren’t for nothing.
“Is Chibi going to get shorter for my pres—”
“No.” The redhead cuts him off, shooting a glare at the fox before starting walking through
their garden. He doesn’t have to look back to know Dazai is following him. “But say that
again and I may not give you anything at all in the end.”
“How cruel.” The fox teases him, coming to walk by his side with a mischievous smirk.
“And right after Chibi was so cute this morning…”
Ugh.
“...shut up.” Though Chuuya is fairly sure the comments won’t stop for a long while after
today, the fox loves to remind him of his most embarrassing moments over and over again.
They walk past the bushes of blooming flowers, the sakura tree in the centre of the garden
and only stop by the small patch of grass in front of the window of Dazai’s… well, the
window of their bedroom. Fortunately, the kitsune seems to understand that Chuuya isn’t
planning on going inside through the window and to their futon, or at least he doesn’t say it if
that thought crosses his mind.
…when Chuuya thinks about it, it must be on his mind. That’s just how Dazai works.
“So…” The boy starts, fumbling with his kimono. Now that they’re here, he suddenly feels
nervous, unsure of whether the kitsune will even like the present. “I don’t really know much
about what gifts kitsunes like.” He can see the other already opening his mouth to speak and
raises his hand to stop him. “Except for me.”
The fox looks way too satisfied with himself, but Chuuya will let it slide.
For now.
“Anyway…” He turns around, searching for a small pouch hidden in the folds of his kimono
and kneeling down on the grass. “That was the only thing I could think of…”
Dazai tries to look over Chuuya’s shoulder to see what he’s doing, but before he can catch a
glimpse of anything unusual, the redhead is already standing up and pushing him away a few
steps. Every second of silence makes Chuuya’s heart beat faster, his blush growing darker
every time Dazai’s eye darts to him with questions sparkling in the dark pit.
To be honest, it doesn’t last that long, barely a few moments, but it feels like forever to the
redhead.
And then… it happens.
It’s different from the last time, there’s nothing here to be transformed. Instead, the ground
starts rumbling before a dark sprout shoots from underneath it, twisting around itself and
growing higher rapidly. The smell of wood fills the air, then it’s flowers and young leaves
that explode around the crown of the tree and…
When the flowers lose their petals, the smell turns stronger and sweeter.
The tree is nowhere near as high and wide as the one in the middle of the garden, but it’s still
decently taller than the kitsune, with long branches reaching for the Sun and sky above.
And Dazai is… silent. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move – his eye is blown wide at the sight
before him, his ears and tails stilling as he takes all of it in.
“I, em…” Chuuya feels awkward, he doesn’t know what the other’s reaction means, but he
can at least try to explain, right? Even if the fox will end up laughing at him for being stupid
again. “I know you said you don’t need it, but…” He scratches the back of his neck, looking
at the ground and somewhere to the side. “...I remembered you mentioned liking these, so
I…”
So he asked Ryuu to sneak him out of Dazai’s sight and pay a quick visit to Kouyou, which
was both the perfect choice and a mistake. Obviously, she knew how to help him, but she will
likely be telling the story of how embarrassing it was for years to come.
A fair price.
If Dazai likes it, that is, because if he doesn’t…
“Chibi.”
There’s no teasing, no confusion or mockery in his voice and Chuuya finds it all too easy to
look back at the kitsune, despite the knot of nerves tightening in his gut. But Dazai’s gaze
isn’t that of fake politeness, it’s—
“Thank you.”
It’s tender, the usually sharp edges softening into an expression of unconditional gratitude
and affection. The dark orb that always looks like the deepest well, waiting for Chuuya to fall
into its depths and get lost in it, is warmer now. Not the alluring promise anymore, but a
comforting fondness that knows no end.
His smirk melts into a delicate smile, fox ears lowering at his sides, hovering over the brown
locks as one of Dazai’s tails stretches towards the redhead, wrapping around his wrist to urge
him closer And, really, following the kitsune’s lead is as easy as breathing in the fresh
summer breeze.
“...it’s nothing.” The redhead mumbles as Dazai’s brushes a stray strand of hair away from
Chuuya’s face, tucking it behind his ear.
“How lucky I am.” The fox purrs, the tips of his fingers slowly sliding down the column of
Chuuya’s neck. “To have Chuuya thinking so much about me.”
His cheeks burn, but not as much as the skin under Dazai’s delicate caresses. He tries to lean
into it, never looking away from the hazel jewel hidden behind the dark bangs. “I think about
you the normal amount.” The boy says, getting embarrassed at his own words, but letting out
a sigh of relief when Dazai’s palm cups his cheek.
“And I feel blessed by it.” His thumb strokes Chuuya’s warm cheek. There’s some shuffling
and rustling sounds coming from behind the kitsune, but the redhead doesn’t pay much
attention to it, not until one of Dazai’s tails slides between them—
With a round, pink peach settled on top of it.
“Shall we try~?” Dazai sings, his lips curing back up into a smirk.
Blinking in confusion, Chuuya glances at the fruit before looking back at the other. “We?
I…” His hand covers the one cupping his cheek, unwilling to let it go so soon. “It’s for
you…”
“I know.” Dazai chuckles, using the shark claws of his free hand to cut a small piece of the
peach out. “But I want to see what my partner thinks.”
The smell grows stronger, filling Chuuya’s lungs when a sweet, juicy piece is pressed to his
lips. The kitsune doesn’t nudge him, but his gaze is enough for the redhead to part his lips
and allow the fruit to slide inside, Dazai’s fingers brushing his mouth almost innocently if
not…
“So?”
If not for the way the fox then licks the peach juice off of them, knowing fully well the blue
eyes won’t be able to look away from him.
“How is it~?”
His face must be the same colour as the peach, but Chuuya still manages to answer,
swallowing the small piece. “Sweet.” Just like the smell. “It’s… good.”
Dazai hums with appreciation, his tails moving away as the redhead is pulled closer. Or
maybe Chuuya takes the step on his own? Who can tell anymore?
“Ah, I can’t wait to try, then~”
Of course, it’s not the fruit that he leans closer to taste, but the flavour it left on Chuuya’s
lips, in his mouth. Kissing Chuuya is always sweet, always Dazai’s favourite taste of all, and
now it’s only more addicting with a hint of a new flavour to it.
He wants more, even if simple ‘more’ isn’t quite enough.
“...you’re not trying your present.” The redhead pants between the slides of their lips, his
hand gripping at Dazai’s wrist to keep him there despite his own words.
The fox grins into the kiss, bending down and—
“What are you—?!”
—the hand on Chuuya’s cheek leaves, sliding behind his back instead as Dazai’s other arm
moves behind his knees before picking the redhead up from the ground. The boy’s hands grip
at the black and blue kimono, his eyes shooting wide before closing again when the kitsune
kisses him again, Chuuya’s body melting in Dazai’s arms.
The fox doesn’t let him go as he turns around, as he turns to their window with a grin
stretching on his lips.
“I’ll get a taste of my present after I get a taste of my Chuuya~”

—a few days ago—
“A peach tree?” With one brow arched high, Kouyou looks at the boy tapping nervously on
the tea cup he has offered him.
“Well, something that could grow into a tree, but… yeah.” Chuuya feels somewhat awkward
to be asking for a favour from her despite not having anything to offer in exchange for it, and
after everything the spirit has already done for him.
For the both of them.
“I may have exactly what you’re asking for.” It makes Chuuya hopeful, but he really should
have known better than to expect it to be easy. “But may I ask what you need it for, lad?”
Normally, the boy wouldn’t put it past Kouyou to just know about Dazai’s birthday, but
considering the fact that the kitsune himself wasn’t sure about it… it may not be that obvious,
even for her.
“I, em… it’s a present…?”
“A present?” The woman repeats, covering her mouth with her fan as her eyes pierce through
Chuuya. “For your beloved, I presume?”
…why did she have to call Dazai that?
It’s not like she’s wrong, but it’s making it more difficult for the boy to meet her gaze without
dying a little on the inside from the embarrassment. Asking for a favour is hard enough as it
is, he doesn’t need to have his blood set on fire on top of it.
“...yeah.”
Kouyou considers it in silence, but in the end she doesn’t ask any further questions. Instead,
her eyes shine with both understanding and amusement, gold sparkles dancing in them as she
chuckles softly.
“I’ll go get it. Please wait for me here, it won’t be long.”
“Thank you.” Chuuya mutters, a faint blush painting his cheeks. “Ah, wait!” The woman
stops, looking over her shoulder at him. “I don’t know how to pay you back for…”
“Don’t worry about it, Chuuya.”
Her voice is like light like a flower’s petal, but with the sharpness of a thorn – beautiful and
sweet, but also deadly when used right.
“I will gladly accept the story you will have for me after this as payment.”
—present time—
Content, but also tired, Chuuya looks at the kitsune lying next to him – propped up on his
elbows and with a sweetly–smelling peach in one hand, humming to himself with
satisfaction. They’re both naked, only covered by the fox’s tails, and half of Chuuya’s face is
pressed into the pillow when…
“I’m honoured.” The boy would have thought Dazai is talking to himself, if not for how he
glances at him, flashing his teeth in a teasing smirk. “That Chibi is willing to get into the
lethal flower’s debt for my sake.”
…he doesn’t need a reminder, thank you very much.
Gods, please make it so that Kouyou doesn’t ask for too many details when he goes to ‘pay
her back’ after this.
“You don’t sound ‘honoured’.” The boy grumbles, satisfying soreness settling into his body.
“Oh? How do I sound, then?”
“Pleased with yourself.” And annoying. And sweet. And…
Ah, this whole day has tired Chuuya out already, both emotionally and physically.
“I feel both.” The fox muses, his tails rubbing soothing circles into the redhead’s lower back.
“But I’m also wondering: what did she ask for in return?”
“...” Technically speaking, it was Chuuya who asked what he could do for her, but the fox
doesn’t need to know that. “...nothing important.”
Humming, Dazai takes a bit of the peach, his gaze never leaving the boy’s face. “Is that so?”
“Yes. That is very much so.”
From the amused shine in his eye, Chuuya can tell Dazai doesn’t believe him, but at least the
fox doesn’t push any further. “Well, whatever it is, I’m thankful to have such a caring
Chibi~” His expression drips with tease, but it also hides genuine fondness beneath all of it, a
feeling that melts Chuuya’s irritation into something softer.
Into thinking that seeing Dazai smile like this is worth any headache waiting for him in the
future.
Into appreciating these lazy moments they share when no one is looking.
“...you’re stupid.”
And into allowing himself to think that he can’t wait for many, many more such birthdays
waiting for them in the years yet to come.
Chapter End Notes
They~ are~ so~ soft~ I~ am~ on~ my~ knees~~~~
Look forward to some more characters showing up in the next chapter

Nothing To Worry About...
Chapter Notes
Before anyone notices, a whole year has passed since Chuuya first came here; summer shone
bright above them as it slipped through their fingers faster than ever, and now…
September has finally arrived.
Together with the memories it holds.
“...I don’t know.”
The evening’s air flows into the room through the open window, the peach tree slowly
swaying in the darkness outside as the two of them sit together, Chuuya between Dazai’s legs
with his back pressed to the kitsune’s chest. The redhead’s fingers play absentmindedly with
the white fur of one of the tails, his eyes staring at the floor somewhere in the corner of the
room.
“And it’s not like they asked me either.”
Dazai’s arms are around his middle, tracing slow patterns through the material of Chuuya’s
kimono, his chin resting on the top of the boy’s head. “They must feel awkward about it.”
The fox says. “I think they don’t want to pressure you into accepting to go out of kindness
only.”
Would he?
It’s so hard to predict what his answer would be when his mind has been a mess for the past
few days, when his heart doesn’t know which path it wants to take anymore. Summer still has
its hold over the world around them, but to Chuuya’s eyes the days seem… darker,
somehow.
Or rather – pale.
And at nights… sometimes, he just feels so tired. Like breathing is too much, like existing is
a chore.
“It was fun, back then.” Chuuya mutters, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “But…”
The boy hugs the tail to his chest, curling in on himself and pressing closer against Dazai. He
feels so small like this, wishing to escape reality and only stay in his partner’s arms until his
inner demons leave. This isn’t how Chuuya normally is, this isn’t how he prefers to face his
problems, but—
“What if something happens again?”

—even if he has pushed the shadows back into the deepest corners of his mind, these things
never fully go away. They stay hidden, they fall asleep and wait.
And then, they come back.
Right when a person finally learns to live with the warmth of the light on their skin, right
when accepting happiness becomes easy. All of a sudden, it’s as if the demons never left, the
poison ivy growing around one’s heart, where it once caused so much harm, and the old
wounds threatening to open again.
Pressing a kiss to the top of Chuuya’s head, Dazai’s hold around him tightens, his voice as
soft as he can make it. “Nothing will happen.” He reassures the boy and himself. “If you
decide to go, I’ll be right there with you at all times.”
Which would make a huge difference compared to last year, but…
“I don’t know.”
…is Chuuya really ready to go back to the Autumn Festival after everything that’s happened?
After losing his best friend because of a mistake he made there?
Unlike last year, neither Ryuu or Gin has asked him if he wants to go, which Chuuya has
been silently grateful for because it’s a question he doesn’t have an answer to, no matter how
much he thinks about it. Dazai also hasn’t mentioned anything about it, out of concer, or
maybe because he doesn’t care about such celebration – Chuuya can’t be sure. But what is
certain is that none of it matters.
They don’t have to say anything, it’s enough that Chuuya’s mind remembers.
The memories of pain and sorrow and guilt.
The sight of Shirase’s bloodied body, the sound of Yuan’s voice.
As the world’s colours lose their brilliance in Chuuya’s clouded by the past eyes, the old
darkness becomes clearer, its embrace all too familiar around the heart that still recalls how
easy it was to give into despair and let Chuuya sink. Everything because of one mistake, one
boy—
One Festival night.
But, as irony would have it, it was Chuuya who brought this up.
Because here – in their bedroom, surrounded by Dazai’s tails and feeling safe in his partner’s
embrace – the question escaped the boy’s lips before he could even realise the words ring
from his throat. A wandering thought, a regretful idea.
‘Are they going this year, too?’
Or maybe a hopeful one.

It’s so hard to tell the difference anymore.
Of course, Dazai knew what the question was about, and then, when he asked if Chuuya
wanted to go as well… A simple question became a dilemma, a battle inside the redhead’s
mind, and the only answer that holds the flame of truth is—
“...I just don’t know.”
In a way, maybe Chuuya was hoping to be told what to do, maybe he wished Dazai would try
to persuade him into going, or make him stay by force. But no, the redhead is given a choice
and it feels too easy to pick the wrong path forward. It’s exactly because Chuuya had no idea
that he asked – this shadow was looming over him the whole of August, quiet but ever–
present, and now the first day of September isn’t giving the redhead an answer either.
It exhausts him, and it makes the world seem less alive, less welcoming.
“You can take your time to think about it.” Dazai murmurs, his tails brushing Chuuya’s legs
affectionately, trying to soothe some of the nerves and doubts away.
And, despite how his thoughts seem to go in circles all the time, that’s what Chuuya does in
the end – he thinks about it. Every minute of every day that follows is spent on searching
inside of his heart for what he wants, so that when the time comes—
He has already made up his mind.
It wasn’t easy, for every ‘yes’ his mind whispered to him, the muffled ‘no’ would cry from
deep within his heart. For every smile at the thought of going around all the colourful stalls
with Dazai, a cold shiver would run down his spine when Chuuya remembered the
consequences of the last Festival.
The pain and sorrow haunted him for the past few days, the guilt slowly creeping back into
his heart because—
What if he makes another mistake?
What if someone else gets hurt? Gets killed?
It’s been a cycle of hope and regret, of wishing to move forward and of not being able to
move even an inch on his own, but… eventually, Chuuya realised it. The single fact that
should have been obvious, but was being kept out of his rech by his own doubts and fears:
He’s not on his own, he’s not alone.
Even if anxiety welcomes itself back into his heart, even if nerves make his fingers tremble
out of fear that feels like the past and smells of blood—
The part of him that wants to go is just a little stronger than the part that wants him to
crumble under the weight of his darkest memories, destroying the peace Chuuya has built for
himself with the help of those close to him. It’s just enough for him to agree.
Especially since he knows the next two days after it will be… hard, to say the least.
Honestly, Chuuya isn’t sure if it’s right of him to go, if it’s right of him to enjoy the music
and games and all the Festival has to offer right before the anniversary of his friend’s death.
There’s a voice in his mind, one he thought he silenced a long time ago, telling him that he
doesn’t deserve to go. That he should succumb into his grief once more and let it consume
him, again. Because that’s the price he must pay, the sacrifice he owes Shirase – a debt that
will never go away for as long as Chuuya is alive. But on the other hand…
There is so much more that makes up his happiness and sadness now than there was before.
One day can bring a dozen reasons to smile, another can cause the tears to fall, and all of it is
new – there is always more.
The wind blowing from Chuuya’s past is ice cold, but the shine of his present is kind on his
skin.
The shackles that were binding him to his grief and self–hatred lay broken on the ground
around Chuuya’s feet, and only the eyes of the boy’s soul can choose whether to see them
still diggin into his flesh, or…
Or to see them for what they are: broken pieces.
Just like it was with his father’s death.
Chuuya, only a child at that time, didn’t feel responsible about what had happened, but that
doesn’t mean he wasn’t devastated, that he didn’t have regrets that would haunt him for
weeks and months to come. It doesn’t mean that once the anniversary would come, he didn’t
feel like the whole world expected him to break down again, to shut everyone else out again.
And maybe if he had been alone with it, that’s what he would have done.
But instead of a way to loathe the pain, what Chuuya was shown by the people around him
was the way to remember and cherish it.
Not to forget, but to hold dear.
To live his life with a smile and with those who have passed in his heart.
Because as the years went by, Chuuya has never forgotten about his father – how could he
ever? – he has never tried to pretend how his death wasn’t painful for him, or how much he
has and still does miss him. The redhead remembers and reminisces about the days of his
childhood, and pays his respects on every anniversary. He still gets sad, he still cries from
time to time as he talks to someone who may not even be able to hear him, but…
But that pain doesn’t dictate which path Chuuya takes. It’s his baggage, not a compass; a
story written into his heart – not a map.
He was taught that life goes on, once.
That it’s okay to accept happiness, even when the days seem darker than normal.
And he can relearn it again…
“What’s that?”
Which is why, right now, he’s standing in front of their house and looking at the kitsune that
has just come out to take them to the Autumn Festival, his eyes narrowing at this one, very
obvious and very new detail. Not exactly covering Dazai’s face, but slightly moved to the
side of his head, there’s a fox mask – white with blue patterns painted around the black eyes.
It sits on Dazai’s right side, over the bandages, his hair sticking out from underneath it.
“Chibi doesn’t know what a mask is?” The fox teases, amused, and Chuuya can only roll his
eyes at that.
“I do, but you’re not even wearing it properly, so what’s the point?” Surely, it cannot be for
aesthetic purposes. Not when it’s Dazai of all people.
“I don’t need to wear it properly~” Stepping closer, the kitsune soothes the frown forming on
Chuuya’s face, brushing the back of his fingers on the redhead’s cheek. “It’s to hide my
presence, not my face.” He explains. “I don’t have a good reputation in the yōkai world, this
will prevent everyone from running away the moment they see, or sense me close.”
All things considered, it sounds reasonable.
Even if the rumours Chuuya has heard in the village were spread by Dazai himself, there
must have been some – if not a lot – truth to it, and they’re supposed to go have fun tonight,
not watch dozens of creatures tremble in fear. Although… it would be an interesting sight to
witness, one day.
“You don’t seem any different to me.” Chuuya points out, searching for any kind of an odd
feeling, but finding none. Dazia still looks the same, his touch is just as warm.
“Humans can’t sense spiritual energy, Chibi.” Ah, right. Demon stuff. “You may be one of
the very few who can see its manifestations, but…” Dazai flickers the boy’s forehead.
“...that’s all~”
Wrinkling his nose, Chuuya debates whether he should feel offended, or glad, at the
comment. It’s nice to know that he isn’t completely abnormal, that there are at least some
other humans who can see the things he does, but…
Well, maybe he can let it go for now.
Understanding every demon nuance and every spell is far beyond his capabilities for one
evening.
“And if someone recognises you by your appearance?”
“Not possible either~” Dazai muses, tapping on the fox mask. “I’ve had the spell
strengthened. Only those who have known me for a long time, or those who I allow to, will
be able to recognise me. The rest will only see a random demon their own minds project onto
the spell.”
That’s… complicated, but if he says it’ll work, then Chuuya doesn’t need to ask about the
specifics. If it will help them enjoy their time in peace, the mask can stay – no more questions
asked.
Except…
“Are Ryuu and Gin already there?”
They said they would let him and Dazai go by themselves and meet up later on, but the
redhead hasn’t seen them since this morning. Partially, it’s because Chuuya has been trying to
calm his mind before the Festival by letting the fox cuddle him all day in their bed, but that’s
beside the point.
“Ryuu left earlier to meet up with his partner before the Festival starts.”
Oh? Will Chuuya finally meet this famous Atsushi?
He managed to get a few stories and details out of Ryuu through his investigation – meaning:
he teamed up with Gin to annoy her brother into spilling information, but the wolf is
surprisingly resilient – but he is yet to actually meet the tiger. From what he’s heard, the boy
is cute and… a bit naive at times, especially when it comes to romance, but he’s also strong
and can be cheeky when he feels like it.
“Gin should be with them.” Dazai adds. “They usually stick together during bigger
celebrations.”
Except for last year, because then the siblings were focusing on spending their time with
Chuuya.
Dazai’s expression softens, a barely noticeable hint of worry passing though it before it’s
gone. His hand comes up to stroke Chuuya’s hair, fingers tangling in the red locks behind his
neck. “Are you ready?” The fox asks. “We can stay if you’re not sure about this.”
…he is.
Chuuya has spent days gathering his thoughts and coming to terms with everything. He may
not be a hundred percent sure, there may still be some doubts hiding in the shadows of his
mind, but he wants it, and if Shirase ever heard Chuuya is missing a festival because of
him… his friend would never forgive him.
That’s just the kind of person Shirase was.
The kind of person he still is, in Chuuya’s heart.
“Let’s go.”
He says it with a shy smile, eyes locked with Dazai’s as blue flames slowly rise from the
ground all around them. Chuuya doesn’t fear them anymore, he welcomes the beautiful fire
with ease, letting it steal the familiar grass from under their feet and replace it with the
ground the redhead hasn’t stepped on in exactly a year.
A cacophony of voices, smells and colours welcome them once the flames fade. It’s both the
same as Chuuya remembers and completely different. Countless stalls with games and food,
some sounding familiar and some new. Demons and humans walking all around, ghosts and
maybe even gods and—
Chuuya swallows dryly, calming the storm threatening to overtake his heart. He reaches for
the hand resting on the back of his neck, holding on to the bandaged wrist as his eyes look
back at the fox.
“You’ll stay with me, right?”
‘You keep me safe, right?’, his soul seems to beg, ‘You’ll make sure I don’t make the same
mistake again?’
Sending him a reassuring smile, Dazai takes his hand, guiding it to his lips to plant a kiss
there as he whispers…
“I promise.”
And it’s the sparkle of comfort Chuuya will hold onto for the rest of the night.
Without letting go of the redhead’s hand, Dazai leads them down one of the many paths,
creatures of all sorts laughing and encouraging them to try whatever it is they offer at the
stalls, and at first it’s… weird. Because, in Chuuya’s mind, the kitsune is far from the festival
type. Not liking these sorts of events would fit Dazai more, or maybe being the type that only
walks in silence would be better.
In any case, the fox isn’t the most sociable out of the two of them. And, to be fair, he doesn’t
act all that excited about it, but… he doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable. Chuuya doesn’t even
have enough time to feel anxious about all the people surrounding them because Dazai is
constantly keeping his mind occupied.
He catches Chuuya's every curious look lingering on different food stands, every chuckle
escaping him when he watches demons and humans alike trying to win the small prizes from
different games. Maybe Dazai is only doing it for him, maybe he’s trying to overwrite bad
memories with good ones – but if so, why does he look so pleased?
Although… it’s not the sea of colours that lights up a sparkle of joy in the kitsune’s eye, not
the symphony of sounds that paint a smile on his lips. Dazai doesn’t even glance at the
glittering patterns dancing in the air at the illumination performance, the only sight he
observes and engraves into his mind is…
“Do you come here every year?”

They’re strolling around, their hands intertwined and each with a small snack. Chuuya with a
skewer of caramelised flowers – do not ask him why, or what kind they are, they don’t appear
to be normal flowers – and Dazai with a similar one but with cut up peaches. They’ve come
to a calmer part of the Festival, not as crowded and quiet enough to talk without much
trouble.
“Not really.” The fox replies. “I’ve come a few times when it served a purpose, but other than
that I don’t participate much in such celebrations.”
So… exactly what Chuuya thought.
“Served a purpose?” He tilts his head back, looking up at the other. “Like what?”
Dazai’s tail wraps around Chuuya from behind, pulling him closer when a group of bird–like
yōkai walks past them, chatting and giggling to themselves.
“I showed Ryuu and Gin around for their first time when I took them in.” A sigh. “They were
young and constantly on edge, and I thought it would help, so…”
“That’s…” The redhead blinks – once, twice – his lips curling up in a teasing smirk.
“...awfully adorable of you.”
And thoughtful.
Not that Chuuya doesn’t believe in Dazai’s good side, he does, but it is a bit out of character
for him to be this considerate. Especially since it was a long time ago and his past never
sounds exactly nice; his past self doesn’t seem like the kind of demon that would do
something like that, and yet, it seems there are exceptions to every rule.
The fox gasps, mocking. “Did you think I would be so heartless as to keep the kids locked up
all the time?”
Maybe, if the situation calls for it, yes.
“There’s a whole array of personalities between ‘heartless’ and being an awkwardly caring
parent, stupid fox.” And, oh, how much Chuuya enjoys the slight twitch of Dazai’s brow at
the comment.
“It was tactical, not caring.” The kitsune shrugs. “Plus, it was Kouyou’s idea.”
Now that sounds more believable, however—
“But you went along with it.” A chuckle escapes Chuuya when Dazia rolls his eye, taking a
bite of his peach. “What about these friends of yours? Have they never asked you to come
with them?”
“They have, once every few decades. That’s the other purpose I accept. Well…” He raises
their intertwined hands right in front of Chuuya’s face, grinning at the faint blush blooming
on the boy’s face. “...now I have a new purpose, too~”
“...” The boy opens his mouth to say something, but closes it right after, unsure of how to
react. “...you’re impossible.”
“Anything for my Chibi~”
“Gods, do you really have to—”
“ Eh, I think there is more sugar on you two than in my cake.”
They both stop, a single alarm ringing in Chuuya’s mind before a memory of the exact same
voice reminds him of the human it belongs to, a human he knows he doesn’t have to fear.
Leaning on the round, tall table there is a man with the same cheerful smile and knowing,
green eyes as the boy remembers from their first meeting.
Dazai’s tails move behind Chuuya, but the fox isn’t in any way alarmed, his face falls into his
usual, stoic expression – neither hostile nor kind.
“Ranpo?” The redhead calls out, walking to the man and dragging Dazai along.
“Hello there, Chuuya–kun~” Ranpo chirps, taking a bite of his treat. “I see you and your
demon are doing well, hm?”
“I—” He looks between the man and Dazai, a bit confused. “So you can recognise him?” If
Ranpo knows the doctor that Dazai summoned when Chuuya was injured, then it kind of
makes sense, but…
“Nope. But I don’t need to see the kitsune to know it’s him accompanying you.”
Something tells Chuuya he doesn’t want to ask how Ranpo knows it, or rather how much he
knows. He’s had enough of these talks, he’s not going to start another one voluntarily.
Instead, he tries to shift the conversation to more safer grounds…
“Are you by yourself?”
What was the name of that doctor again? She didn’t come last year, but maybe she’s around
now—
“As you can see.”
—or not.
“Yosano–sensei is busy. Again. Or more like still busy.” Ranpo sighs, briefly eyeing the
kitsune. “Even more so than last year.”
Dazai’s tails shift behind Chuuya’s back as the fox finally speaks. “How come?” His voice is
more curious than worried, but he keeps his eye locked on Ranpo, as if he’s searching for
something.
“There’s the usual – end of summer casualties and such – and…” The man takes another bite
of his cake, seemingly uncaring of the topic. “...there are some unexpected patients this year,
too.”
Unconsciously, Chuuya steps closer to Dazai, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“It means there has been a weird unrest in the y ō kai world recently.” Ranpo rests his chin on
his palm, voice light as if he’s telling just another boring story. “But, so far, nothing serious
has happened, so it may be just a newborn higher demon learning new tricks.”
So… should they be worried or not?
Blue eyes rise up to look at the fox, a hint of fear behind them that’s easily soothed with the
soft smile Dazai shows him. His free hand comes up to brush the worry away from the
redhead’s face. “It’s okay, Chibi.” His voice is reassuring, delicately wrapping around
Chuuya’s mind. “You’re always safe with me.”
The boy relaxes into the touch of fingers on his cheek, tails on his back, almost forgetting
where they are until—
“Yep, definitely more sugar than on the whole stand.”
—ah, yes. Ranpo is still here, and he’s watching.
“Don’t let me spoil your little outing for you though~”
“Right, em…” Chuuya snaps out of it, clearing his throat awkwardly and avoiding the
amused gaze of the other man. “...we should be going, I think. Enjoy the rest of your night,
Ranpo.” On any other occasion, Chuuya would love to talk to the man a bit longer, but there’s
no guarantee that his sanity, and more importantly his pride, would come out of it
unscratched.
“I will~” The other chirps. “Ah, and you might want to catch your demon’s friends while
you’re both here.”
“Why?” This time, Dazai sounds genuinely baffled, narrowing his eye at Ranpo. But the man
doesn’t look intimidated. He grins, pulling away from the table and swinging the bag full of –
probably – sweets around his wrist as he starts walking away, waving at them innocently.
“Because they’ll give you the answer to the question you chose not to ask~”
…huh?
What does that mean?
Unfortunately, Dazai seems to be just as confused by Ranpo’s words as Chuuya feels about
them, so he doesn’t even bother to ask about it. Instead, he chooses to ask about something
the fox may actually know, something the redhead has been considering and trying to hint at,
but never daring to actually mention…
“Your friends are here?”

Those people – well, yōkai, or so Chuuya assumes – are the only ones Dazai has ever called
his ‘friends’, the ones that are close enough to the fox to make the old him come to the
Festival. They are the ones the kitsune always talks about with a hint of a genuine smile, and
they are also the people the redhead has only ever heard about, never met.
“I would assume so.” Dazai lets out a sigh, pulling Chuuya away from the sweets stand.
“Actually, if that man says they are here, then they must be around.”
“You don’t like Ranpo?” It slips out of his lips before Chuuya can stop it. Because the fox,
even if not hostile, didn’t necessarily act nice towards the older human. He was mindful of
his actions and words – more or less – but it was barely bordering on politeness.
“I don’t dislike him.” Dazai answers after a moment. “I only ever meet him at Yosano’s and
that’s not often enough for me to have an opinion.”
Ah, that’s fair, Chuuya supposes.
“Although…” The fox’s lips twitch. “I acknowledge his intelligence, even if it gets on my
nerves sometimes.”
“Oh, my.” The redhead grins, imitating Dazai’s usual, teasing voice the best he can. “Is this,
oh, so powerful kitsune pouting because a human outsmarts him?”
The tip of Dazai’s tail flicks Chuuya’s forehead. “I’m not and he isn’t outsmarting me.”
“But you don’t know why he told us to meet your friends.”
“Neither does Chibi~”
True, but Chuuya isn’t an arrogant kitsune that’s supposed to be all–knowing and all that
stuff. He is a human just like Ranpo, and he doesn’t mind the man knowing more than he
does, especially since Chuuya is younger than him.
“And I do have a guess what this could be about.”
However, before Chuuya can say anything, his attention is caught by a flash of white with
black at its sides. Normally, it wouldn't mean anything to him, but the redhead recognises
these two black kimonos with red patterns, and he can guess who the third person is.
He points to the stall at the other side. “Is that…?”
Dazai’s gaze follows in the same direction, falling on the three figures with their backs to
them.
“Ah. That’s Atsushi–kun, yes.” His ears perk up as he looks back at Chuuya. “Shall we go
say hi?”
Chuuya beams, the mischievous spark that usually glows in Dazai’s eye now shining brightly
in the blue eyes, lips stretching into a smile as innocent as it is sharp, mimicking the fox’s
expression more than well. “Of course.” The redhead chirps, his mind set on one thing:
Get enough information from Atsushi to have his revenge on Ryuu for all the teasing.
As they come closer, Chuuya notices some details he didn’t see from the distance: it’s not the
white hair that occasionally moves in the wind, it’s white tiger ears.
So, unlike the Akutagawa siblings, this boy doesn’t feel the need to hide his demon features.
There’s also a black and white tail swaying low above the ground. Plus, as the redhead
realises with an involuntary twitch of his eye, this Atsushi is taller than him. Not that much,
mind you, but he is and that’s unfair.
Another detail is that his kimono, although strikingly different from Ryuu’s, somehow
manages to work perfectly with the wolf’s clothes in a symphony of feelings the sight
awakens in Chuuya. The pattern on Ryuu’s kimono looks like fire that climbs high to
consume the night falling on it while Atsushi’s… It’s like seemingly gentle waves of a
powerful ocean that try to reach the white sky with their blue fingertips.
The colours, the sceneries – they’re all different, but the depth of their meaning sings with the
same tune. They mirror each other’s nature while also staying true to themselves.
“Enjoying your night, Ryuu~? Gin?” Dazai says when they stop a few steps behind the other
three. The genuine surprise on the siblings’ faces as they turn around disappears when their
eyes fall on the mask on the side of Dazai’s face.
“Yes, we are.” Ryuu answers, both he and Gin bowing their heads politely.
It’s something Chuuya can’t get used to no matter how much he sees it, but the gesture is
brief and minimal enough not to think about it deeply, not when…
“Hm?” The boy with light grey, almost white, hair and flickering round ears blinks, confused,
as he looks at Chuuya and Dazai. “Oh, are you Ryuu’s friends?”
The redhead knows Atsushi is a demon – obviously, even if he didn’t know, he’d see it – and
one with a nasty past at that, but… He seems like a boy. His smile is more than simply polite,
it’s bright and honest, like he’s excited to meet new people (or maybe excited to meet his
partner’s friends?), and his eyes don’t hold even a speck of malice in them. They’re curious
and eager and so, so pure.
He seems so happy that Chuuya is slowly starting to feel guilty about wanting to get
information out of a boy that has probably never teased anyone in his life. (Or has he?)
“This is Dazai–sama.” Ryuu explains, and Chuuya has never seen his face this… full of
affection and care as when the wolf looks at his partner.
“Da—” Atsushi’s eyes widen, his brows shooting so high up they disappear behind the bangs
falling on his forehead. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t recognise you!” The boy bows, a bit too low if
you ask Chuuya. “It’s been a long time and—”
“It’s okay.” Ryuu strokes the boy’s arm and Gin chuckles next to the two of them. “It’s a
masking spell, the image you see isn’t anything you could have recognised.”
Staring at the fox, or at whatever he sees, Atsushi’s lips part in a silent ‘oh’.
“And this is…” The wolf continues, gesturing to Chuuya, but glancing at Dazai, as if asking
if he’s allowed to tell. “...Dazai’s–sama partner.” He says after receiving a subtle nod.
Compared to the expression Atsushi wears now, his surprise–panic after not recognising the
kitsune was nothing. His mouth hangs open, eyes wider than ever, the boy’s tiger ears and tail
perking straight up as he struggles to find words. Chuuya half–expects to be showered with
questions, but Atsushi’s next words aren’t directed at him. Instead, the tiger is almost too
loud when…
“And you never told me until now?!” A whiny pout settles on Atsushi’s face as he turns to
scowl Ryuu more. “I’m—”
“Ah.” Dazai cuts him off. “That would be on my orders.”
“Orders?” Chuuya asks, looking up at the fox.
But the other only shrugs, his tails shielding Chuuya’s back from the crowd. “Better safe than
sorry.”
Maybe, though the redhead isn’t sure if even Dazai, with all his powers and spells, could ever
keep him hidden from the whole yōkai world. He’s sure the fox would love to try but… that’s
not necessary. Chuuya especially doesn't feel like hiding from this adorable tiger demon.
With a sigh, he lets the matter drop. “I’m Chuuya.” He offers the boy a polite smile. “Nice to
meet you.”
“I—” Atsushi turns to him, a dark blush blooming on his cheeks as he bows again. “I’m
sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Oh, he really is polite, isn’t he?
…is that Ryuu’s type, or is there something special about the tiger?
“I’m Nakajima Atsushi.”
Full name? He must really feel safe around them, and Chuuya wonders if he acted rude by
only giving his first name now. That’s what he was told to do last year, sure, but with Dazai
here maybe—
“Please, feel free to call me Atsushi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The boy scratches the back
of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry about my reaction, it was just really unexpected.
I mean—” How Atsushi’s face can go from bright red to pale in a split second, will remain a
mystery for Chuuya. “It’s not that there’s anything wrong with Dazai–sama having a partner,
of course—!”
That’s only the first time during the night that Atsushi makes everyone around him laugh at
his own expense.
They – or more like Chuuya and Atsushi, the rest simply following – decide to walk around
the quieter parts of the Festival together and no one opposes the idea, even if Dazai does stay
more quiet than he tends to be when they’re alone.
As it turns out, the tiger is very open and answers every question Chuuya asks him, much to
Ryuu’s despair at times. However, the redhead is also slowly beginning to understand why
Ryuu had to spend almost a century courting the tiger. Atsushi is… adorably resistant to
understanding innuendos that fall ever once in a while, be it towards him or anyone else.
Which isn’t a bad thing in any way, but it makes digging for information a lot more difficult.
Especially since Chuuya doesn’t want to push too much, he likes Ryuu’s partner and doesn’t
mind having a normal conversation with him, he also doesn’t want to ask about something he
shouldn’t be sticking his nose into too much. But he still ends up with some new information
that can be used, like…
Yes, Ryuu did, in fact, give him bouquets of flowers, on multiple occasions.
He still does.
Or like the fact that apparently the wolf has made it his goal to take Atsushi away on vacation
every chance he gets. Or like how caring and delicate Ryuu can be, how thoughtful and
gentle…
In short, how very un– Ryuu–like.
“Ryuu’s fur is extremely soft as well!” Atsushi beams, his eyes shining. “Whenever we’re
together and I’m a little too tired after my errands, I always ask him to turn into a wolf so I
can nap in it.”
“Oh?” Quirking a brow and sending Ryuu a look, Chuuya paints his voice with innocent
curiosity. “Is that so?”
“Yes! It’s such a shame he hides his tail and ears all the time.”
He has a reason for it, but maybe now isn’t a good time to be bringing it up. “You don’t seem
to have a problem with keeping them out, I see.”
“Of course not.” He shrugs. “They’re a part of me.”
“And Ryuu said he looks cute with them.” Gin whispers, seemingly to herself, but loud
enough for everyone to hear.
Holding back a grin and making sure to remember that there are things, or rather people, that
even Ryuu calls ‘cute’, Chuuya nods, hiding a chuckle with a forced cough.
“Well, yes. That too.”
The tiger seems unfazed by the comment, but Ryuu on the other hand… “Atsushi, you don’t
have to—”
As they continue walking, stalls slowly give way to benches and tables, or mats placed on the
ground, where people can rest or enjoy their food without having to stand up. They find one
for themselves, the Akutagawas and Atsushi sitting together, with Dazai and Chuuya facing
them from the other side. Of course, the fox not so subtly tries to pull the redhead into his lap,
but Chuuya expected this much and quickly settles down on the mat next to Dazai.
They are in public, after all.
But he doesn’t mind the fox’s tails moving to lie around him.
“So…” Chuuya watches as Atsushi places down all the small plates full of different snacks
they bought before. “...how come I’ve never seen you visit Ryuu?”
The boy looks up at him, blinking and parting his lips before pressing them together again as
he sits back up. He doesn’t look bothered, but maybe a bit… embarrassed?
“If it’s okay for me to ask, of course.” The redhead quickly adds. ”I didn’t mean to make you
uncomfortable or anything.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” The tiger chuckles awkwardly. “It’s nothing big, really, it’s just that…”
“Atsushi–kun is scared of me~” Dazai grins, showing off his fangs when Chuuya quirks a
brow at him.
“Wha—no! I’m—” Once again, the tiger’s face changes colours faster than it should be
physically possible. His shoulders fall, eyes darting to the side as he mumbles under his
breath. “...even if I am, it’s only normal… with Dazai–sama…”
Ryuu’s hand strokes his back in encouragement even if he himself is holding back a chuckle,
and Chuuya somehow feels bad for the poor boy. He’s so honest and the fox uses that to tease
him.
“But it’s not just that.” Atsushi lets out a heavy sigh, reaching out for one of the skewers.
“I’ve mostly been occupied with work since I started serving my god.”
Ah, the gods must be more demanding than even Dazai, who only asks the Akutagawas for
small errands and looking after his domain.
“But we still meet often, I’d say.” Atsushi adds with a bright smile. “Time flow feels different
in the gods’ dimension, so it can get complicated for me with measuring how long it is until
we see each other.”
If you ask Chuuya, anything and everything involving gods and demons is complicated, so
he’s not too shocked to know that even time doesn’t always work the same way.
“How is it?” The redhead asks, sipping on a rosy drink. “Serving a god, I mean.”
“It’s really nice! Everyone has their own comfy room and everything.” Atsushi’s enthusiasm
cracks only for a split second, the corners of his lips twitching as he considers his next words.
“Although… the guardian spirit can be a bit… strict.”
“The guardian spirit?”
Atsushi nods, exhaling tiredly at the reminder. “The highest spirit under a god’s direct
command only.” He explains. “He’s the one who gives us jobs and tasks to complete, takes
care of the domain and helps our god to look after his subjects. He’s also the one to carry out
the most important jobs and only ever leaves a god’s side when instructed to do so. The rest
of us are free to do as we please as long as we complete our tasks and are within summoning
range.”
So Chuuya was right, Atsushi is more busy than Ryuu, even if he probably doesn’t
experience as much teasing from his god, or whatever, as the wolf does from Dazai.
“But you get time off to come here?”
“Yes! We can request days off at any peaceful time if we want to.” Taking a bite of his food,
Atsushi considers it for a moment before speaking. “And I think Kunikida–san is also here
this year.”
Kunikida–san…?
“The guardian spirit.” The tiger explains, seeing the question painted on Chuuya’s face. “He
almost never attends, but I think he’s here on a case.”
Working during a festival? This person must either love his responsibilities, or be a
workaholic. And that ‘case’? Is it the same thing Ranpo told them earlier? Or something
different?
This time, Chuuya isn’t worried. Dazai told him he’d keep him safe and the redhead trusts
that – he’s simply curious.
“What case?”
Plus, it's just a natural conversation flow, it doesn’t feel like an intrusive question.
“I don’t kn—”
“One that shall not be discussed with a fox who only brings trouble anywhere he goes.” The
voice doesn’t belong to anyone Chuuya knows. It’s firm, clearly annoyed but not enough to
sound angry.
The man whose words cut off their conversations is standing a few steps away from them,
behind Atsushi’s back. He’s wearing a beige kimono with a black geometric pattern that
looks like it was painted with ink strokes and not woven into the material. He has blond hair,
though darker than uncle Paul and a bit shorter, tied in a low ponytail with a red ribbon and
falling on his shoulder. With his arms crossed over his chest, the man stares at them from
behind his glasses, his furrowed brows the only sign of any emotion visible on his face.
“K–Kunikida–san!” Atsushi shoots up, bowing briefly before shaking his hands nervously as
he tries to stand in the line of sight between the newcomer and Dazai.
And the tiger is the only person who stands up.
“It’s not like that—”
“Atsushi–kun.” The man starts, less annoyed but just as firm. “Please, do remember not to
discuss the details that should be of no concern to someone like that.”
Chuuya’s eyes narrow dangerously.
It’s not the man’s tone, but his words that light a spark of irritation inside him, because what
did that even mean?
A fox that brings trouble? ‘Someone like that’?
He knows there aren’t many who are fond of the kitsune, but coming up to them at the
Festival and acting rude isn’t exactly what Chuuya would expect of someone who holds the
title of a ‘guardian spirit’ of a god.
Dazai, though, only sips on his drink without so much as a twitch of his eye.
“I figured the spell wouldn’t affect someone of your standing, Kunikida.” The fox says, as
light as if it meant nothing to him.
The frown on Kunikida’s face deepens. “Your tricks would never work on me.”
“I doubt that.” The fox answers without hesitation, only his tails moving closer to Chuuya.
“But rest assured, I have no interest in your little errands.”
Atsushi looks between the two, clearly troubled by the situation but not knowing how to ease
the atmosphere while the rest of them… Ryuu and Gin glare at Kunikida, though their
expressions remain carefully neutral, neither of them speaking a word even if their hands
tighten around whatever they're currently holding. Something tells Chuuya it’s not the first
time a situation like this happens and that the Akutagawas’ silence is caused by the orders
they may have once received and not by their choice. Because not allowing anyone to defend
him is too much like Dazai.
And Chuuya starts to think he hates it.
Or maybe he hates the blond guy, he’s not sure right now.
“Because you don’t care about anything?” Kunikida asks, stepping closer to stand next to
Atsushi, who looks like he wants to disappear. “Or because you’re involved?”
“Do you really think I would be casually sitting around with one of your mentees if I was
involved in whatever it is you’re trying to investigate?” Dazai sounds almost bored if not for
the faintest hint of spite in his tone, a hint that Chuuya could have missed if he hadn’t known
the fox as well as he does. “Your senses are losing their sharpness, Kunikida.”
“They’re fine, it’s your twisted mind that cannot be underestimated.”

“I’m flattered~” Dazai chirps mockingly, before his expression turns uncaring again, tilting
his head as he meets Kunikida’s gaze. “Are we done here?”
“I wonder about that.” The other man doesn’t waver under the kitsune’s dark stare. “Because
I find your presence here, hidden presence at that, suspicious to say the least.”
“Ah, so you are losing your touch.”
“I think you—”
“And I think you should stop being an asshole.” Chuuya growls, glaring daggers at the blond
man as everyone’s gazes fall on him.
Kunikida doesn’t finish his sentence, he doesn’t seem to be able to speak at all after he’s been
suddenly cut off. His frown disappears, leaving only confusion as his eyes move to Chuuya,
blinking – once, twice…
“I’m sorry, but who are you?”
Ah, so he hasn’t even noticed Chuuya until now.
“Someone who’s trying to enjoy the Festival with everyone in peace.” His hand tightens
around Dazai’s, because they;ve never stopped holding onto each other. “And not listening to
your empty accusations.”
He must have not made a good first impression with that because Kunikida’s frown returns,
his gaze, while still confused, more intimidating now—
“You don’t know who you’re sitting next to if you think my concerns are ‘empty’
accusations.”
—but Chuuya doesn’t care.
“I do.” The redhead hisses. “But you don’t seem to know what manners are.”
“Kunikida–san…” A boy standing behind the blond man looks uneasy as he tries to speak.
“Maybe let’s leave…?” This time it’s some girl that speaks up. Both of them are standing on
Kunikida’s both sides – a redhead and a girl with long, black hair, both with a pair of black
wings on their backs – but Chuuya doesn’t pay much attention to them.
Not when the blond man doesn’t give up.
“Suspecting a murderous demon who’s hiding behind a spell and—”
“—is quietly sitting without disturbing anyone is rude.” Chuuya cuts him off again, getting
up to his feet, still glaring daggers at Kunikida and ignoring everything else. A small part of
him may feel bad for Atsushi, because this isn't his fault, and maybe for the two bird–demons
– are those tengu? Is that really it? – because they look like they don’t want any trouble
either.
But it’s only a very small part of the redhead that feels like this.
Most of his mind is raging with anger and frustration, and he will be damned before staying
here any longer.
“We’re leaving.”
Chapter End Notes
This Atsushi is going to be the perfect combination of embarrassingly open about his
affection and stupidly oblivious I SWEAR RYUU HAS THE PATINECE OF AN
ANGEL NFKSNKWND he’s cute tho :3
And I’m sorry for any Kunikida stans here, I needed to do this for this scene :’)
The Festival isn’t over yet, though!
Also……. THERE IS SO MUCH PRETTY STUFF AND DAZAI IS ONLY LOOKING

AT CHUUYA, I’M KNSFJNKSN THEY’RE SO IN LOVE I CANNOT KSFJNKSNDK
(Another also: Dazai's mask is just a standard japanese kitsune mask, but that guardian
spirit thing is something I made up lol)
...Right?
Chapter Notes
“We’re leaving.”
Chuuya doesn’t spare anyone a second look before turning around and pulling Dazai by the
hand to follow him, which the fox also doesn’t fight. He’s been silent since the first time
Chuuya spoke up and he’s silent now, standing up and only subtly gesturing with his hand for
Ryuu and Gin not to follow them, but stay with Atsushi instead.
No one is trying to stop them – not the Akutagawa siblings, not Atsushi, not Kunikida – and
as they walk without uttering a word, Chuuya is fuming. He doesn’t care where he’s leading
them, he just wants to get as far away from that guy as possible before his instincts push him
into making an actual scene. A fight Chuuya surely wouldn’t be able to win on his own, not
against a demon, or a spirit, or whatever, and that would end up inconveniencing Dazai even
more.
So no, not this time. The redhead has already said most of what he had to say to the blond
man, the rest is this anger that lingers in his mind – something that he can’t voice out just yet.
Not here, not when there are still people around within hearing range.
Don’t make a scene. Don’t attract too much attention—
They don’t stop for a while, Chuuya dragging the quiet fox along with him until his anger
starts to fade, leaving only…
“Why didn’t you say something?!”
Stopping at the side of the path, a comfortable distance from everyone else, Chuuya lets go of
Dazai’s hand for the first time this night, crossing his arms over his chest instead as he glares
at the kitsune.
And Dazai looks… lost?
Or maybe simply confused.
“But I did?” His ears are turned to his sides, his tails still behind him.
“No, you didn’t.” Chuuya is getting more and more annoyed, and he isn’t sure who is making
him irritated anymore. “You let him call you all these things!”
The fox stares at him, blinking as he’s recalling whatever was said before. He doesn’t look
bothered, and it’s only making Chuuya’s frown deepen. “Except for the accusation about
tonight, Kunikida didn’t exactly lie—”
“It’s not about lying, it’s— ughh—!”
Squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, Chuuya can already feel a
headache this situation is giving him. Kunikida’s words and Dazai’s well–played indifference
– all of it is making his blood boil with frustration and the redhead needs a few deep breaths
to calm himself again. When he finally does, his arms fall down his sides, blue eyes staring
right into the dark one with newfound determination, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Then, Chuuya is stepping closer.
Or rather, he’s throwing himself at Dazai, wrapping his arms around the other’s body and
hiding his head in the dark kimono, leaving the fox frozen for a second as he’s making sense
of the situation. But confusion only lasts a second before his arms rest on the smaller body,
together with his tails.
“Don’t just let people call you things you don’t like.” The boy mumbles into Dazai’s chest,
his hold tightening. “It’s not okay.”
The kitsune lowers his head, his breath fanning over Chuuya’s hair as his hand tangles in the
flaming strands. “Why would Chibi think I dislike these names?” It’s so soft and quiet,
almost getting lost in the low noises coming from the background.
But Chuuya hears it all too clearly.
He presses closer, if that’s even possible anymore.
“I just know.”
It’s muffled and stubborn, but the fox finds himself smiling fondly.
His touch is much different from Chuuya’s, he’s not desperately clinging to the redhead and
trying to erase what happened from his mind, no, Dazai’s hands are delicate as they rest on
the boy’s body. It’s tender and more affectionate than it is yearning.
Because the kitsune is used to being accused of everything and anything, especially by
Kunikida, who does have grounds for his opinion about him. Usually, he doesn’t care about
any of it, and while he’s in a good mood, like tonight? All those comments meant nothing to
him, because the only person whose opinion he does care about is—
“Chibi is so kind.” Dazai murmurs, his lips brushing the top of Chuuya’s head. “It makes me
think I don’t deserve him sometimes.”
The boy lets out a heavy sigh, concern and guilt creeping into his heart. Because there was a
time when he wasn’t much different from Kunikida, when his words hurt the kitsune, but…
But he knows better now.
“You’re not allowed to think that.” Chuuya may have made mistakes in the past, but he isn’t
going to keep quiet when someone insults his partner, ever. Just like Dazai isn’t allowed to
think he doesn’t deserve him – doesn’t deserve them.
“Ah.” Dazai chuckles. “Such a bossy little human.” LIke this, the fox can’t see how Chuuya
rolls his eyes, but he knows the boy does it when he huffs into his chest softly before pulling
away.
“And you’re a stupid fox.” The redhead bites back, fighting back a fond smile tugging at his
lips. He’s still trying to look serious and annoyed, though his face betrays every note of his
heart as he looks at Dazai’s softly amused expression and feels the tails brushing him through
the material of his kimono.
“And yet Chibi would defend me even from other yōkai~”
It’s light and playful, all while being full of /so/ much appreciation, and Chuuya’s words
escape past his lips before he can think about them—
“Because you’re my stupid fox.”
—and when they reach his own ears, the redhead’s heart almost stops.
It’s not a big deal, not really, Dazai calls Chuuya ‘his’ Chibi, or whatever, all the time and
they are together, so it shouldn’t feel this big, but… it does. Because Chuuya hasn’t really
said it, yet. Not like that. In his mind, unconsciously? Maybe. But not to Dazai’s face.
Which, by the way, only stills for a fraction of a second in shock after hearing the words,
before a wide grin stretches from behind the shadows dancing on his face as the kitsune leans
closer.
“Hm~?”
The atmosphere shifts instantly, turning – even if still as caring as before – much darker. The
only light around them comes from the distant stalls and small fires floating around the area,
making it bright enough to see without a problem, but also dark enough to cast an illusion as
if they’re alone.
“What was that~?” The fox purrs, showing off his fangs. His finger presses lightly under
Chuuya’s chin, tilting his head back, and the boy finds himself being hypnotised by the red
shining at him from deep within Dazai’s eye. “I don’t think I heard you right, Chuuya.”
The boy’s cheeks heat up and he can only hope the shadows hide the pink blooming on them.
His eyes are stubbornly staring into Dazai’s, though his heart paces in his chest as Chuuya
can feel the ends of Dazai’s locks tickling his skin when their faces are so close.
“...” The redhead swallows, getting his mind under control, but the fact that the fox mostly
uses his name when they’re in bed and Chuuya’s body reacts to it on its own doesn’t help
with staying calm. “...I think you did.”
Again, what he said wasn’t a big deal, but Dazai is making it into just that. Because of course
he is.
“Then I want to hear it one more time~”

Somehow, Chuuya has a feeling he shouldn't indulge the kitsune with that, a feeling telling
him it will end exactly how the redhead fears.
Or anticipates.
it’s tricky to tell the difference anymore.
“I said…”
Was there anyone around them? Are they far enough from the crowd? Does Chuuya care
about any of that?
“...you’re my stupid fox.”
Dazai’s tails throw shadows around them, shielding their little world from prying eyes.
“Yeah.” He purrs, lips brushing Chuuya’s. “I am.”
One again, Chuuya is pulled into Dazai’s arms, melting into the kiss as his eyes flutter close,
hands gripping at the fox’s clothes. With one arm around the boy’s waist and the other under
his jaw, Dazai keeps the redhead close, stealing every shuddering breath right from Chuuya’s
mouth – from his Chuuya.
“D–Dazai…”
The rush of possessiveness that radiates from the kitsune makes Chuuya’s head spin with
desire, but they are not at home and—
“W–we can’t…”
—what if someone sees them?
Even if he knows the fox would likely not mind it at all, the redhead isn’t quite sure how he
feels about it. They could just go home, sure, but they still haven’t met up with Dazai’s
friends and if they go, they will not be coming back anytime soon if at all.
The kitsune hums, his thumb stroking Chuuya’s burning cheek as his crimson eye scans the
area around them. “Maybe not here.” Because Dazai has respect for his partner’s current
limits.
He pulls away only to look at the flushed expression blooming on Chuuya’s face, at the
slightly parted lips and half–lidded eyes, and oh how captivating that sight is. Almost as
captivating as the flash of unhidden desire swirling in the red eye and a promise–threat of
lustful hunger that Dazai’s fangs left behind on Chuuya’s skin.
“But there is a place a bit more private.”
‘A bit’.
It’s not a lot, probably not enough, but right now? Chuuya will take it.
With such a simple reassurance, the redhead lets the ground be taken away from under his
feet as Dazai scoops him up, carrying him somewhere while their lips stay locked together.
And that somewhere turns out to be the forest that apparently circles the Festival.
Dazai doesn’t take him too far into it, the faint halo of light coming from the Festival still
reaches them and the music would carry all the way to Chuuya’s ears if the boy wasn’t so
focused on—
On Dazai.
On the lips kissing him, fangs grazing his skin, hands and tails roaming over his body.
Blood is rushing in his veins, a fog of pleasure and lust clouding his mind as his kimono
hangs open, sliding down from his shoulders. In the back of his head, Chuuya somehow
manages to remember that they’re outside and he tries to hold his voice back, but—
“Is my little human feeling shy~?”
—it’s really fucking hard to stay quite when the kitsune purrs these words right into Chuuya’s
ear, three fingers stretching him open already.
He will ask the fox why in the world he keeps a vial of oils in his kimono, but later.
For now, Chuuya is doing his best not to lose his mind. He leans forward to support himself
on the tree, legs trembling and nails pressing into the cold wood almost painfully. His head
hangs low, with watering eyes Chuuya can see Dazai’s hand caressing his stomach and chest,
playing with his nipples; his cock is already leaking, pre cum falling on the grass. The wet
sound of Dazai’s fingers thrusting into him and the low whispers are driving the redhead
insane, amplified by how hot every touch burns—
How dangerous what they’re doing is, here.
“Chuuya~” Dazai nibs at his earlobe. “Are you ignoring your fox?”
As if that was possible. That stupid kitsune is currenlty occupying every single thought in his
mind.
“I’m—” Every time his mouth opens, it’s moans that escape him instead of words, whines of
pleasure drawn out by each hit to his prostate. “I’m trying to—” Another twist of Dazai’s
wrist has Chuuya arch his back, hips bucking up into the other’s hand. “Not loud—”
“We’re quite far, but… yes.” Each word is whispered into his neck, each sound too calm for
how the kitsune’s fangs tease his skin hungrily. “Someone could come here.” Dazai suck–
bites lightly on Chuuya’s shoulder, forcing a louder moan out of the redhead. “Someone
could hear you, could see you like this.”
With one last stretch, the kitsune's fingers leave him empty and whining, arching his back in
search for more.
“But that just wouldn’t do, Chuuya~”

And Dazai doesn’t keep him waiting, his hand sliding up his chest and to his throat, tilting his
head back as his cock pushes inside.
“No one is allowed to lay their eyes on my human.”
Chuuya’s nails scrap at the wood, the back of his head resting against Dazai’s shoulder as the
kitsune buries himself all the way in.
“Although…” Dazai’s free hand keeps Chuuya’s hips still, fingers digging into the boy’s
flesh as he gives the other a small, but hard thrust. “Having them know who is the only one
allowed to take you…” His hips snap forward again on a full thrust, earning him a gasped
moan as Chuuya clenches around him. “Having them know who you belong to…”
His low purrs take over Chuuya’s mind, echoing in his very soul as the world around them
blurs in tears of pleasure filling his eyes.
Each word is like a daring challenge and a sinful truth, the prideful need to fight against
being owned and the desire to be claimed by Dazai and claim the kitsune back battling inside
the redhead’s heart.
“I must admit.” Chuuya’s support escapes from under his hands when the kitsune leans back,
pressing the redhead’s back to his chest. “It is tempting.”
“D–Dazai—” Chuuya chokes out between moans, his hands flying to hold onto the other’s
arms. “Y–you can’t— ah— knot m—”
As if to resist his words, the kitsune thrusts hard into him, burying his cock in Chuuya as
deep as he can and holding the boy’s hip in an iron grip.
“Oh, but Chuuya~”
The hand around his throat squeezes just a enough for the pressure to be felt, Daza’s hot
breath fanning over the redhead’s skin, voice like a low growl vibrating through every inch of
Chuuya’s body—
“I don’t need my knot to make a mess out of you.”
And he doesn’t hesitate to prove his words true, thrusting inside the redhead at a relentless
pace and growling with satisfaction at every loud moan it earns him. His hands and tails
caress every stimulating point on Chuuya’s body, a labyrinth Dazai remembers by heart. His
lips leave a trail of dark marks on the pale canvas of the boy’s skin and Chuuya can’t even
bring himself to think of how he’s going to hide them later. He can’t think of anything else
other than—
Dazai.
How good the kitsune feels inside of him and how maddening it is to feel Dazai’s
possessiveness in every bite, every growl.
By the time Chuuya’s mind stops spinning with pleasure and stimulation, his breath now
calmed down, the boy’s body feels like cotton, the only thing keeping him from falling to the
ground is Dazai’s arms.
The air feels cold on his skin, come flowing out of his hole and wetting his thighs when the
kitsune pulls out, sending one last shiver of overstimulation down Chuuya’s spine after what
felt like hours of being held over the edge, then pushed past it with burning ferocity.
Still too tired to move, the redhead lets Dazai clean him up with a cloth gods only know
where he took out from, tossing it to the side when he's done to burn up in blue flames. He
wraps Chuuya’s kimono back in place, grinning to himself when the clothes don’t cover all
the marks he left behind on the boy’s neck.
They stay there for a while longer, Chuuya resting his weight on Dazai and listening to soft
purrs as he struggles to find the strength to move again.
“Should I carry you again~” The fox muses, nuzzling into the red hair with a satisfied smirk
on his face.
Well, that would be easier and Chuuya can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it when Dazia does it, but…
“No.”
But even if they have just had sex in the forest next to the Festival, where anyone could have
caught them, he still isn’t as shameless as Dazai and he would die of embarrassment if he had
to be carried around in public.
“I’ll be fine… I think.” He most certainly hopes so, because his legs don’t feel as confident as
his words may seem.
In the end, Chuuya ends up holding onto Dazai’s arm as they walk, leaning his head against
the fox occasionally, and he can only hope such blatant displays aren’t too much against
yōkai rules, or whatever. He’s embarrassed enough as it is, he doesn’t need to be judged for it
as well.
Besides, it’s the only way Chuuya can stay up on his legs for now, supported by the other’s
tails as well.
“Can we go there?” He points to a stall with flowery drinks, one they visited before. “My
throat feels hoarse.”
All too proud of himself, the fox takes them to the stall, humming playfully to himself. When
they stop in front of it, Chuuya looks over all the flavours, thinking over his choice before…
“Can I get—?”
“Could I—?”
He speaks at the same time as a person standing next to him and they both look at each other,
surprised. The boy is taller than him – ugh – with long hair and slightly confused, grey eyes.
“Ah, sorry.” He laughs awkwardly. “You go first.”
And he looks human, not that anyone’s looks can be trusted around here.
Dazai is still at Chuuya’s side, eyeing the stranger, but he doesn’t seem alarmed. His tails are
still around the redhead, so…
“Thanks.” Chuuya says with a polite nod and a smile, ordering his drink from the bird–like
demon running the stall.
“Is it good?” The other boy asks curiously, jumping in place when both Chuuya and Dazai
turn their heads to him. “I–I mean…” He scratches his head, eyes darting to the side.
“Sorry… it’s my first time here.”
Oh, so he probably is human.
“Yeah.” The redhead offers him a reassuring smile. With Dazai next to him, he doesn’t need
to be afraid. “It’s really nice.”
The boy seems to relax, ordering the same drink as Chuuya and the redhead can’t stop
himself from asking.
“Are you by yourself?”
“My… friend got me here, but he tends to disappear a lot.” Bowing slightly as he takes his
drink, the boy smiles at the two of them again. “Oh, don’t worry!” He says quickly, seeing
Chuuya’s expression. “He always finds me in the end.”
That sounds… not reassuring at all.
Though, the stranger isn’t bothered by his own words. “Thank you.” He gestures to his drink,
waving his hand at them. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” And then, he simply… walks away.
Dazai and Chuuya go in the opposite direction, away from the crowd among which the boy
disappeared into.
“Was he human?” The redhead asks, taking a sip of his drink and soothing his throat.
“Yes.” Dazai doesn’t hesitate with his answer. “I could smell this bakeneko friend of his on
him, but the boy himself was just a human.”
Bakeneko?
Ah… no. Chuuya is way too tired to acquire new yōkai knowledge tonight. He only hopes the
stranger will get home safely in the end.
Silence only lasts for a couple more minutes as they continue walking, Chuuya’s eyelids
starting to feel dangerously heavy as exhaustion creeps in, almost shutting down completely
when—
“Dazai?”
Once again, it’s a voice Chuuya doesn’t recognise, but what the boy can tell is that Dazai’s
tails don’t react to it. They don’t tighten around his body or pull him closer, meaning—
It’s safe.
The two of them stop, both looking to the side at the two men standing by the side of a…
curry stall?
“Ango~” Dazia chirps and Chuuya may not recognise the face he sees, but he’s heard these
names before. “How convenient~”
The fox’s drinking friends, most likely the ones Ranpo mentioned before.
“...convenient?” The man with classes and small ears peeking from under dark hair asks,
confused. “Do you need something from us?”
“Yes and no.” Comes a playful answer, the teasing tone drawing a huffed laugh out of
Chuuya.
“Do you ever stop being annoying?” The redhead comments, straightening himself up.
He’s been dozing off while leaning on Dazai’s arm, but if he’s going to meet these famous
friends of his, Chuuya wants to look as presentable as possible. Or at least not as if he’s
exhausted from having the fox all over himself and being fucked into madness just a few
moments ago.
(Chuuya is trying very hard to ignore the voice in his head telling him that he probably smells
like Dazai to any yōkai close enough, and Dazai’s friends are polite enough not to comment
on it.)
“He doesn’t.” Ango sighs, tired.
“He does.” The other man, most likely Odasaku, says with a small smile after swallowing a
generous spoon of his curry. “Not often, though.”
Ah, how very realistic…
“I believe we haven’t met yet.” Ango’s gaze moves to Chuuya, tamed but still visible
curiosity faintly sparkling in his light eyes.
With two pairs of eyes set on him, the redhead feels somehow cornered, only the light tone of
Dazai’s voice easing his exhaustion–induced nerves.
“Of course, you haven’t. He’s mine~” The fox’s hand moves to Chuuya’s back and waist,
pulling the boy closer. He may be tired and his cheeks may be painted pink, but the redhead
still finds himself wishing to punch this straightforwardness out of the fox before it becomes
the end of him.
The two men, fortunately, don’t comment on it and only try to keep their expressions
neutrally polite. The demon with glasses does it quite well, while the other man…
His expression doesn’t change, he looks kind, but he’s staring at Chuuya with this weird
curiosity as if he’s trying to see under his skin, searching for something hidden. It’s not
intense enough to feel rude or intrusive, it’s just… focused.
All while he’s still munching on his curry, no less.
“This is my Chuuya~” It seems that this is all the explanation Dazai feels the need to give
and his friends – mortifyingly so – seem to get what he means, making the redhead wonder
just what exactly the fox has already told them.
“This is Sakaguchi Ango, a tanuki.” The kitsune continues, gesturing to the man with glasses.
“And this is Oda Sakunosuke, a—”
“Oh.”
Everyone’s eyes move to the taller redhead, whose eyes both soften and widen with pure
surprise as he leans just a little closer.
“It makes sense now.”
…what exactly?
Because to Chuuya, less and less things start to make sense the more time he spends around
demons and spirits and—
Come to think of it, this Oda person isn’t displaying any demon–like features. He can’t be a
human, because from what Dazai has told him they met a very long time ago, but what is he
then? A spirit? A ghost?
“I don’t…?” Chuuya looks between the three of them, finding Dazai with a similarly baffled
expression and perked up ears, while Ango only looks more tired by the second.
“Oda–san.” The tanuki says, placing a hand on the other’s arm to gently urge him back.
“Please be mindful of the fact that none of us can read your thoughts and that it may make
Chuuya–kun troubled.”
Well, he’s not troubled per se, but very, very confused to say the least.
“Excuse me.” Oda offers him a small smile, bringing a spoon of curry to his lips. “It’s nice to
meet you, Chuuya–kun.”
…so, is he not going to elaborate?
“Odasaku, you can’t do that!” Fortunately, the fox seems to – for once – share Chuuya’s
questions. “What makes sense and why?”
“What you told us before.” Oda simply answers, looking at Dazai; Chuuya quirks a brow at
that because, again, he would love to know what the fox says about him. “About Chuuya–kun
being able to see your flames in the forest.”
Ah, right.
Why was he the only one to see them?
“And the ghosts.”
Again, why was it just him?
Somehow, among everything that was happening and with how fast it was, Chuuya didn’t
have the mental capacity to question all of that – or rather, he didn’t have the strength to
actually seek the answers. He would wonder about it from time to time, but Dazai once said
he didn’t know and then never really mentioned it again, so Chuuya assumed some humans
just… see these things.
“Huh?” But maybe, it’s not that simple. “What does that mean?” He looks at the fox, brows
shooting high. “I thought you said some humans can see them.”
“Ghosts, yes.” Dazai agrees. “But not the flames I put as the border to my territory. The spell
should conceal it from any mortal eyes.”
“I— what?” How is he only hearing about it now? “And you never cared to find out why?”
“I did, in the beginning.” Shrugging, the fox looks away. “But I couldn’t find anything in
your soul and then…”
And then things happened.
Right.
“But now we can ask Odasaku~” Dazai beams, oh, so innocently, completely ignoring the
redhead’s pointed glare. “Isn’t that great?”
Ango and Oda witness the scene in silence, the tanuki smiling tiredly as he watches his friend
being more lively than ever, while also trying to figure out just what Oda meant earlier.
“So?” The kitsune turns to his friends again. “Care to share, Odasaku~?”
“Is there something wrong with me?” Chuuay asks cautiously, not sure what to expect.
“No.” Oda’s voice is warm but casual, too casual for how everyone’s eyes are on him, none
of them knowing what to expect when—
“You’re blessed.”
…
He’s what now?
“A blessing wouldn’t be enough to see through my spell.” There’s a shift in Dazai’s tone, not
cold, but sharp and certain of his own words.
Oda, however, isn’t bothered by it. “But five would.”
…what does that even mean, though?!
Dazai’s eye narrows, his tails shifting curiously. “That would be an incredible coincidence.”
“It is.” Oda hums in response and Chuuya…
Chuuya feels like he’s missing something very important.
“Wait, hold on.” The redhead shakes his head slightly, a bit annoyed at how even the tanuki’s
face relaxes with realisation he isn’t granted. “I don’t understand, like, anything so far.”
A blessing? Five blessings?
Why and how exactly? He may have stayed at the shrine for a few years, but he has never
been the most devoted person, and he’s pretty sure no god would ever take this much of a
liking to him.
“Forgive us, Chuuya–kun.” Ango speaks up, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. “Let me
explain this to you briefly.”
Finally.
“If a human, or a couple, proves themselves worthy – with their faith or actions – gods may
bestow a blessing upon them, or their children, which in turn makes the human’s soul more
sensitive and drawn to the spiritual world.”
Surprisingly, that does make sense. Not the process of blessing, but the result of it, however
—
“So, I was blessed by a god? Five times?”
Because that sounds ridiculous, considering how Chuuya is quite sure he hasn’t done
anything worthy of a blessing in his life, but if it was his parents…
“A human can only be blessed once in their lifetime.” The tanuki clarifies. “But each blessing
is carried with their blood and passed to their first born, in which case it is possible to
combine them.”
Suddenly, Chuuya’s mind starts connecting the dots and…
Despite all the stories about a demon living in the forest, his parents still chose to build their
hut so close to it and away from the human village.
//They could also feel that fox's presence before ever hearing about him for the first time and
still claimed they felt safe by the forest.//
Uncle Paul’s words and the fact how Chuuya’s parents could feel he wasn’t human are
starting to make sense, how they were fine with all of it. If it wasn’t just their intuition, but
something inside of them reaching out for the yōkai world around them – it doesn’t seem as
absurd, it makes it almost convincing, without making Chuuya’s parents to be insane.
But… both of them? Five blessings? What are the odds?
Are blessings that common?
It obviously doesn’t sound like a bad thing, Chuuya isn’t exactly worried about being blessed
or anything, he’s just shocked and—
“You couldn’t sense it?” The redhead looks up at Dazai. He doesn’t know what ‘seeing’ or
‘sensing’ souls means exactly, or how it’s supposed to work, but if he has this many blessings
in his blood then shouldn’t it be kind of… visible?
The fox wrinkles his nose at the question as if he’s pouting.
“No.” He says. “Only gods can see it.”
Only…?
Wait.
Chuuya’s head snaps to Oda, his eyes wide. “You’re—?!”
How, with all the stories Dazai has told him, did the fox manage to miss out that one detail?!
With an apologetic smile, the taller redhead shrugs. “I guess.”
He guesses?!
“He is.” Ango cuts in, sighing heavily. “Oda–san is one of the young gods. In spiritual terms,
of course, not in human years.”
Great, now Chuuya has even more questions. Not to mention the creeping anxiety of possibly
smelling like Dazai while meeting a god for the first time. Whatever they say, Chuuya doesn’t
feel blessed right now.
“...and how likely is it to have five blessings?” He asks, hesitant.
“Very unlikely.” This time, it’s Oda who speaks up. “I have only ever blessed five children.”
Oh, don’t tell him that—

“But they all ended up with you somehow.”
Great.
How is Chuuya supposed to react to that? Is it a good thing? A bad thing? Will Oda hold a
grudge against him for having blessings meant for people that must be dead by now?
There’s so much information thrown at Chuuya and with how tired he already was, all of it is
making his head spin. It’s nice to finally get some answers, that’s for sure, but all the new
questions…
“I’m… sorry?”
“Take it easy, Chibi.” Dazai’s hand comes to rest on his head, slowly sliding down his hair
and brushing away some of the tension from Chuuya’s body, making it easier to breathe
around the knots of uncertainty. “You’re worrying too much.”
Even as the redhead looks up at the fox, relaxing into the soft voice enveloping his heart, he
can still see from the corner of his eye how Dazai’s friends look at each other with genuine
surprise. It’s not too obvious, but it’s there and it makes Chuuya wonder…
Have they never heard the fox speak like that?
Has there never been anyone else before him?
Is he the only one…?
“I’m not.” Chuuya sighs, relieved and somehow happy with his small discovery.
“I’m sorry if all of that made you uncomfortable.” Oda says, offering Chuuya an apologetic
smile.
“No, no, it didn’t.” The boy is quick to answer. “It’s just… a lot.”
“And I assure you, it’s nothing to apologise for. I’m glad to know those children grew up to
have families of their own.” Then, Oda looks at Dazai briefly. “And that their blessings
helped you.”
…yeah.
It’s weird to think that, if it wasn’t for this coincidence, if it wasn’t for his parents and what
they’ve left Chuuya with without knowing, the redhead could have lived his whole life
without meeting the kitsune. Dazai would be there in the forest, so close and, yet, so far,
while Chuuya…
He would have a normal life. Without the person that his heart longs for.
Even as nothing more than a theoretical possibility, that thought is… scary.
“...me too.” The boy murmurs, more to himself than to anyone else. Then, he clears his throat
and looks up at Oda again. “Thanks for, em…” He gestures vaguely with his hand.
“Helping.”
“It was more Fate than me, but you’re welcome.”
Oh gods, is fate an actual thing now?
“You don’t have to force yourself to understand everything right away.” Ango adds. “You can
always ask Dazai about any of it once you’re rested, he’s familiar with everything.”
The fox hums, satisfied with himself at the comment – or maybe at the prospect of having
Chuuya ask him questions once they’re alone? Who knows.
Anyway, the tanuki is right. There’s no reason to try to understand the world’s rules in one
night, let alone on a night that has already been so long and… eventful, to say the least.
“We are glad to finally meet you though, Chuuya–kun.”
“Me too.” The redhead smiles, drowsiness coming back into his eyes. “I’m sorry it took me
this long to introduce myself.”
Pushing his glasses higher, Ango lets out a sigh. “That’s not your fault, it’s Dazai’s. He likes
keeping things to himself.”
Oda takes another bite of his curry, nodding absentmindedly. “He almost beheaded Ango the
first time we asked about you.”
Dazai—
What?!
Dazai scoffs. “It was a reasonable reaction, at the time.”
“It was— no, it wasn’t?!” Not that Chuuya knows how the conversation went, but he doesn’t
have to. “You can’t kill your friends for mentioning me!”
“And I didn’t~”
“Because I stopped you.” Oda says, shaking his head as if it’s only a funny anecdote.
“Dazai—” When Chuuya shoots a glare at the fox, he finds him pleased with himself. “...” Of
course, he would be proud of himself, he’s Dazai. “Eh… nevermind. But don’t do that
again.”
“I can’t promise anything~”
Chuuya should argue with that, he should tell the kitsune that he can’t be going around and
killing people for the ‘crime’ of mentioning the redhead, but… it’s been a long night. For
once, he’ll let that slide – it’s not like anyone got actually killed. Plus, Ango doesn’t seem to
be holding a grudge, most likely used to how Dazai is after all this time.
“Don’t let us keep you.” The tanuki says. “I’m sure you’re very tired by now.”
He is and, gods, Chuuya really hopes they’re talking about different types of being tired. It
seems to be the case, or at least it would be if not for how openly Dazai grins at his friend’s
comment. The fox doesn’t say anything, but if Chuuya can feel the possessive satisfaction
vibrating through the air, then the other two must as well.
“Right, I’m—” The boy clears his throat awkwardly, hiding a faint blush on his cheeks with
his hand before bowing politely. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry it was rather brief.”
“There will be more opportunities.”
And that… warms Chuuya’s heart just a little.
“Yeah.” He agrees, his fingers gripping Dazai’s kimono. “There will be.”
The two men smile at that, a relief Chuuya can’t quite sense filling their eyes as they say their
goodbyes, leaving him and the kitsune alone again. The next moment, Chuuya is leaning on
Dazai again, face buried in his chest and his eyes closed.
“Can we go back?” He half–yawns, the arms around him keeping him standing very much
appreciated. “I’m falling asleep while standing.”
“I can carry Chibi after all if he wants me to~”
There’s only the tiniest hint of teasing in it, not enough to argue with or roll his eyes, but
enough to have Chuuya’s lips curling up, hidden from the fox’s sight. “You can carry me to
bed.”
With a soft chuckle, Dazai bends down, scooping the redhead off the ground as the blue
flames cover them all around, a quiet murmur reaching the boy’s mind until it drifts off…
“As you wish~”
Just as Chuuya thought, the next day is… hard on him.
It’s not his lowest, not like last year – hopefully, it will never go back to that – but he’s also
not how he was only yesterday.
It helped, truthfully. The Festival left Chuuya’s mind and body pleasantly light, even if he
was exhausted by the end of it. The sleep he got after it was peacefully undisturbed and he is
content with the time he had but…
He doesn’t want to move.
Right now, Chuuya only wants to stay like this: curled on his side with his head resting on
Dazai’s thigh, warm tails covering his body and a hand resting on his head, fingers tangled in
his hair.
Be it listening to the fox’s quiet humming or to his stories that are only meant to occupy
Chuuya’s mind – there isn’t anything else the redhead wants to do today. Dazai’s voice keeps
him anchored in reality, while his mind drifts to the old memories he cherishes together with
all the pain they bring. It keeps him here while he remembers back then.
Without any questions.
Even if all of them know Chuuya should eat, they don’t make him do it. He’s given a choice,
freedom to let his heart reach for what it may need, or to close itself off from the world for
the time being. And if he doesn’t move at all for the whole day?
That’s okay.
He has tomorrow, he has the days that will follow and people that will stay by his side. He
doesn’t have to be fine every day, he doesn’t have to be smiling when he doesn’t feel like it.
It’s enough that he knows he will be fine.
That he will be himself again, once his darkness fades.
So he stays like this, quiet and unmoving, letting his mind wander to the places it probably
shouldn’t, but to the places it needs to reach. If there are tears falling from his eyes when he
holds a silent conversation with Shirase in his mind, he allows them to soak into Dazai’s
clothes.
If the next day his heart feels like it’s been pierced by a sword as he visits Shirase’s grave in
secret, making sure no one sees him, Chuuya doesn’t fight the pain.
He welcomes it.
Because it’ll pass, he will smile again under the sun that his friend can’t gaze upon anymore,
and he will be happy with the people he loves.
But for now, Chuuya needs the pain.
So he offers this day to it.
—
“Atsushi?” Tilting his head, Chuuya looks at where Ryuu is standing. At the person peeking
at them from behind the wolf.
It’s been a few days since the Festival, the air burns with summer’s leftover heat as autumn
slowly settles into the forest. It’s past noon, and the redhead has been basking in the sun on
the engawa together with Dazai until now, thinking of what food he should try to conserve for
winter, when Ryuu started walking towards them.
If it was just Ryuu, it wouldn’t be anything strange, and of course it’s not like Atsushi isn’t
allowed to be here, it’s just…
It’s a first.
“Come one.” Ryuu’s smile is neutral as he looks from Dazai to Chuuya to the boy behind
him. “You asked me for this.”
Asked? Asked for what?
“...” With his tail wrapped around his right leg, Atsushi steps to the side, rubbing the back of
his neck awkwardly. “H–Hi.”
Chuuya glances at Dazai, but the fox looks like his usual self – unbothered and uninterested.
“Hi.” The redhead offers the boy a smile for the both of them, hoping it’s enough to make
him feel more relaxed. “Did something happen?” It doesn’t feel like something bad, but with
how they parted ways at the Festival, anything is possible.
“No!” The tiger shakes his head quickly when Dazai arches his brow at him. “It’s nothing, I
mean— it’s not nothing, but it’s not bad—”
“Calm down.” Ryuu’s hand settles on Atsushi’s back, rubbing soothing circles.
Maybe it’s because the idea of Ryuu having a partner – of the wolf being this affectionate
with anyone – is still new to Chuuya, but the redhead can’t help but be surprised at how soft
his voice is. The look on Ryuu’s face, delicate and loving, is nothing like what he’s used to.
It’s sweet, yes, just as much as it is confusing.
Not to Atsushi, though.
The tiger relaxes at the other boy’s words, his tail unwrapping from around his leg and
moving to Ryuu’s. He takes a deep breath and—
He bows.
“I’m sorry about what happened!” Bent in half with arms plastered to his sides, the boy says
the words almost too loud for the quiet atmosphere around them. “About what Kunikida–san
said to you the other day, Dazia–sama. He didn’t mean it— well, he probably did, but he’s
not a bad guy, I swear. He’s been stressed for a while and it’s not an excuse, but it was
partially my fault for bringing up his case and—”
“That’s enough, Atsushi–kun.” Dazai stops him before the boy goes on forever. “I know.”
And Chuuya is feeling conflicted.
On one hand, he would rather have Kunikida apologise to Dazai, because he was the one
being rude, and the redhead still isn’t a fan of how easily the kitsune accepts the things said
about him. But on the other… Atsushi seems so sincere about the apology, he must have felt
guilty all this time. He came here despite being afraid of Dazai, he’s trying to set things right,
so…
Still bowing before them, the boy looks up. “But…”
“If he says it’s fine.” Chuuya sighs. “Then we’re good.” Plus, seeing Atsushi bent in half
feels weird, even if Chuuya knows it’s meant mostly for Dazai, not for him.
“See?” Ryuu gently nudges him to straighten up again. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Ah, was Ataushi–kun scared again~?”
“I—!”
“Oi, don’t bully him!” Chuuya cuts in. “He’s trying his best.”
With flushed cheeks, Atsushi presses his lips into a thin line, his ears flattening over his white
hair. “...I’m fine.” When the chuckles quiet down – both Dazai’s and Ryuu’s, because the wolf
clearly takes after the demon who raised him – the tiger adds: “I’m sorry to you too, Chuuya–
san.”
The redhead’s brows shoot up. “Me?”
Atsushi’s shoulders sag. “Kunikida–san was a bit rude to you too, wasn’t he?”
‘A bit’ can be debatable, and whether he was rude to Chuuya specifically, or if the boy felt
every insult directed at the fox hurt more than anything he could say to him, he can’t be sure.
But this is Atsushi, there’s no reason to argue about the past when it’s not needed.
“Do you always have to apologise for your superior?”
Because if yes, then that god he’s serving should really do something about it.
However, Atsushi shakes his head. “No, Kunikida–san is usually very composed. He is the
one to issue apologies when one of us does something wrong.” Somehow, that’s difficult to
imagine after the last and only time Chuuya saw the blond man. “That really was an
exception…”
“Because he doesn’t like me.” Dazai snorts. “Or Ryuu.”
The wolf nods, but doesn’t seem too bothered. Not as much as Atsushi, anyway.
“He doesn’t get a say in this…” The tiger mumbles, his tail tightening around Ryuu’s leg.
“No, he doesn’t.” Ryuu’s smile turns just this much more genuine. “And I’m used to it.”
His words must have felt wrong to Atsushi’s ears, because the boy grimaces at them.
Swallowing whatever comment was trying to force itself out of his throat, the boy only bows
his head again.
“In any case, I only came to apologise, so…”
“Running away so soon~?”
“Dazai!”
“Yes.” Ryuu chuckles. “We will be. Unless you need me for anything, Dazai–sama?”
The fox hums teasingly to himself, as if he’s considering saying ‘yes’, but Chuuya’s pointed
glare is enough for him to let out a defeated sigh. “No. You can go.”
…once they walk far enough, leaving Chuuya with the fox in the garden and stepping into
the forest, Atsushi exhales deeply, bringing a hand to his chest.
“You did well.” Patting his shoulder, Ryuu glances at the other, smiling to himself.
“...thanks.”
“Is there something more?” Because the frown doesn’t quite leave his face, the tension still
lingers in the tiger’s body. “Is it about that case the guardian spirit was on?” If his god
allowed him to leave his side, then it must have been important, right?
“No, no. I don’t even know what it was about.”
“If not, then…?”
“I mean…” Looking back at Ryuu, Atsushi’s voice rings with an apologetic note. “I know he
doesn’t like you, but I don’t understand why.”
Ah.
Of course.
“Because of who I serve.” And because Atsushi’s god is known for bringing peace, without
the need for violence. Most of the time, anyway. The spirits and demons working under him
don’t kill – that’s the only rule they must obey.
Ryuu is well aware of it, and so is Atsushi, even if the tiger doesn’t allow himself to accept
that fact.
“It’s stupid.” The white–haired boy mumbles. “He doesn’t even know you, really know you.”
“He doesn’t have to.” A sigh. “But why would you worry about it now?”
They’ve been together for a long time already and even before that, while Atsushi was
already serving under a god, Ryuu would spend a lot of time around him, trying to court the
tiger. Obviously, Kunikida was there at times, they faced him a lot in the beginning, and their
relationship is mostly neutral now.
Kunikida doesn’t like Ryuu, but he doesn’t comment on their relationship anymore.
Ryuu doesn’t like Kunikida, but he doesn’t talk to him at all if it can be helped.
“You remember how Chuuya–san stood up when Dazai–sama was being accused?” They’re
walking side by side, their hands intertwined. “I don’t know… it made me angry at myself.”
“Angry?”
“...” Atsushi looks to the side, his voice quieter now. “...because I almost never did that for
you.”
He wanted to, of course he did, but…
Going against your superior is always complicated. Kunikida isn’t perfect, but he can be kind
– he is, to most people. He took Atsushi in, helped to train him, and gave him a place he
could call a home. It doesn’t mean that the tiger thinks the blond man is all–knowing, or that
he should listen to everything Kunikida says, especially when it doesn’t align with his own
moral compass.
But the man is a figure of authority, and he devotes his life to helping others.
It’s just hard sometimes, because Kunikida means well.
“You did, sometimes.” Ryuu squeezes his hand reassuringly. “That’s enough for me.”
“But I should have done it more—!”
“Atsushi.” The wolf stops, never letting go of the boy’s hand and only bringing his other one
up to cup his cheek. “I know there are things that can’t be helped.” He shakes his head when
he sees the tiger wanting to argue. “I’m fine with knowing you want to stand up for me.”
“...”
“And if you really feel guilty…” His fangs flash from behind a smirk. “...why not ask for
more time off and let me take you away for a while?”
The blush that spreads on Atsushi's face is a sight Ryuu will never get enough of. Mostly
because it’s not often that the tiger catches on to what he really means, and he has to savour
every time he does.
“I… okay.”
“Oh? That was easy.”

“Well…” His cheeks grow darker and his eyes shine. “I kind of… missed you… I guess?”
Ryuu blinks, genuinely surprised, but maybe he has been more busy than usual during the
last year. Granted, he himself hasn’t felt it that much – hasn’t had the time to think about it,
really – but if Atsushi feels like that…
“I’m sorry, snow kitten.”
He should pay more attention to it, even when he’s busy.
Smirking, Ryuu leans closer, his lips brushing Atsushi’s as he whispers into the non–existent
space between them—
“Let me make it up to you?”
Chapter End Notes
HEHEHEHHEHEHHEHEHE I WILL NOW BE SUBJECTING EVERYONE TO MY

GOD-ODASAKU AGENDA >:3
(yes, Ango is Oda's guardian spirit; yes, the five blessings are from the five orphans~)
Fr tho, I'm so glad it's FINALLY been said (although it was just my imagination again
:'''') with how blessings can be combined I mean)! I kept the answers to myself long
enough 😆
SSKK, and some other side ships, will be making their appearances more often later in
the story because I love making backgrounds too much and have too many ideas that I
want to use :')
Anyway, thank you for following the story for 200k words already! 3 chapters of fluff
left!
A Question
Chapter Notes
Dazai is a cruel demon, it’s his nature. The past doesn’t haunt him, for he doesn’t care about
it. The blood on his hands doesn’t burn him, for he doesn’t regret it. Never has, never will.
He’s calmer now, he doesn’t kill as much as he used to, but that doesn’t make him any less
cruel than he was, on the inside. However…
Just like the stars shine in the darkest of nights, Dazai’s heart isn’t a freezing abyss either.
Over the last year, it has learnt to warm up to the feeling the fox never knew he was capable
of, discovering the things he would only ever glimpse upon from afar when he was bored,
and now—
Now, Dazai knows how it feels to look forward to every new day, every lazy morning. He
knows how easy it is to let his smile show, after centuries of wearing masks. How easy it is to
care, to listen to the whispered wishes his heart longs for. Days have never been brighter, the
world has never felt this welcoming for him – he doesn’t feel like an intruder anymore, he
feels like he belongs here.
In this forest.
Alongside this person—
“Where are we going?”
Dazai glimpses at the redhead from the corner of his eye, smirking and humming to himself.
“It’s a surprise~” The fox muses, ignoring the pointed look the boy sends him. He knows that
no matter how much pretend–annoyed Chuuya may try to act, he still enjoys it. The slow
walk, their hands locked together…
It’s late October, the forest’s emerald sea of leaves has already turned into an ocean of fire
rustling above their heads before it falls to blanket the ground with the colours of autumn
flames. The breeze is colder now, days clear under the blue sky as they get shorter and
shorter. Last year, they spent the whole autumn inside their house with Chuuya struggling
with his grief, the redhead missed so much of the beauty their home holds while hiding in his
room.
This time it’s different.
Be it watching the garden change its colours under their gazes, or the forest glowing with
cold gold – whatever Chuuya wishes to see, Dazai shows him.
Or sometimes, it’s the Akutagawa siblings.

The redheAD has taken to going with Gin to the village at the other side of the mountain, a
bit further from here, to do the shopping for whatever ingredients or painting supplies he
needs. It doesn’t seem dangerous and one of the wolves is always with him, so Dazai allows
himself to stay back and let the human take a breath of freshness outside the residence
without looking over his shoulder.
It was unnerving the first few times and the fox had to make sure the village was safe before
letting Chuuya out of his sight. Gin and Ryuu have been going there for a year and never
sensed anything too out of the ordinary. Both humans and demons come and go, as in every
settlement, but nothing bad has ever happened. It’s likely because every yōkai that comes
close enough to the edge of the forest senses Dazai’s presence, and no one would be foolish
enough to cause problems while the kitsune is here.
Even so, if it was up to him, the fox would always accompany Chuuya on his little trips, but
the stubborn human doesn’t let him. He says it’s his ‘alone’ time, a break to spend at least a
few minutes among humans, even if he doesn’t know them that well. Dazia doesn’t like it,
but he understands – or at least respects Chuuya’s wishes.
But he also can’t lose to some random villagers when it comes to making Chuuya smile.
That would be unacceptable.
Just like that, every time the boy goes with one of the Akutagawa siblings, Dazai spends the
time walking around the vast forest that’s within his borders. Of course, there’s not an inch of
it that he hasn’t already discovered, but… Nature is and always will be nothing short of
amazing. It’s unpredictable, it can change the land devastated by a storm into a picture of
wild beauty, and the kitsune’s presence only makes it flourish more each year, his spiritual
energy seeping into the natural order around him.
It creates something new, always waiting to be discovered.
And, if you ask Dazai, it’s much better than visiting random humans.
“Should I be… worried?” Chuuya asks, sceptical. Maybe it’s not what the boy had in mind,
but the question makes Dazai grin, his mind coming back to the last time he had a ‘surprise’
waiting for him, and how sweetly Chuuya melting in his arms…
“Not at all~”
Another time, perhaps.
“Does Chibi not trust me?”
“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” A flicker to his forehead makes Chuuya huff,
shaking his head at the mock hurt. “We’ve been walking for a while already.”
“Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”
“And by there you mean…?”

Ah, how stubborn.
“I already said it’s a surprise, didn’t I, little human?” The fox lets out an amused sigh, not
sure whether his lips curl up at the small pout on the boy’s face, or at the expression he
believes he’ll get to see soon. Because when it is important to the redhead, Dazai remembers.
It may have been a lucky coincidence, or Nature listening to his silent wishes, or Fate – who
can tell for sure?
It’s not like it matters.
The fact that it’s here and that the fox found it is enough.
“Don’t worry.” The kitsune says, with a note of playfulness melting into warmth painting his
voice. “You’ll like it.” And when the redhead rolls his eyes, Dazia adds: “Plus, it meets
Chibi’s criteria of a surprise.”
The first part of it, anyway.
“You aren't still jealous of me going to that village, are you?”
Jealous? Of humans that are merely a breather for his redhead and nothing more?
Never. Obviously.
“Should I be?” Dazai asks instead, cocking his head to look at Chuuya with a quirked brow.
“Is Chuuya looking for someone to replace me?”
He know it’s not true, he doesn’t even suspect anything like that – if he did, it would end in
bloodshed – but it’s always a pleasure to hear the boy admit it himself, admit that he’s
Dazai’s and no one else’s—
“No.” And the faint blush Chuuya can’t hide? A sight worth everything and anything. “But
that has never stopped you from acting… like you.”
Dazai snorts, his fangs flashing in the early evening’s sun. “I’ll take that as a compliment~”
“It’s not supposed to be—”
“But Chuuya likes it.” The fox blocks their way, stopping in front of the other and leaning
forward as his gaze turns red. He can see the tiniest shudder going down the redhead’s spine,
the way his eyes widen, oh, so slightly and how his lips are pressed together, refusing to
agree even when it’s obvious. “Or should I stop?” The kitsune teases, enjoying the defiance
in Chuuya’s eyes maybe a little more than he should.
But they both know the truth.
“Just because I like something…” The boy speaks slowly, careful with the victory he’s
handing over. “...doesn’t make it into a compliment.”
“It does for me~” Straightening up, the kitsune’s ears twitch with satisfaction. “Now, let’s
go.”
“Do you ever— huh—?!” As Dazai steps to the side again, one of his tails finds its way to
the boy’s face, covering his eyes gently, and it stays there as Chuuya tries to make it move
away. “I can’t see where I’m going!”
“Yes, Chibi.” Another snort, more amused this time. “That’s the point.”
“But—”
“Just trust me.” Dazai softens his voice into a more reassuring tone, squeezing Chuuya’s hand
and leading him forward. “It’s not far and I won’t let you fall.” And he he doesn’t want to
spoil the surprise. He likes seeing the sparkles Chuuya gets in his eyes, he likes seeing them
appear and linger in the clearest of skies that hide in his orbs.
Reluctantly, Chuuya’s hand falls to his side as the boy lets himself be pulled wherever the fox
wishes and Dazai beams. He leads them slowly, making sure the boy doesn’t walk into a tree
or trip on the branches scattered on the ground, and when they finally come to a stop…
He takes a few seconds to appreciate it himself.
Dazai doesn’t pray to any god, he doesn’t like most of them and they don’t like him either,
but… he’s thankful for what little gifts Nature grants him, even if he doesn’t like admitting
it.
His tail slides off from Chuuya’s face with one last tickle of the soft fur. The redhead blinks,
getting used to the bright light hitting his face and when his eyes focus on what’s in front of
them…
//I guess they didn't bloom.//
Eyes blown wide, his lips slightly parted as the boy takes it all in, his breath caught in his
throat and—
//They're supposed to bloom in late September...//
“Did… did you…?”
//...but I guess they didn't.//

Beautiful as the spider lilies stretching like a blooming crimson sea in front of them may be,
the look of pure surprise and happiness on Chuuya’s face can rival any beauty Nature may
hold. Especially in Dazai’s eyes.
“I only found it.” The fox answers, watching as Chuuya takes a step forwards, his fingertips
brushing the petals as if they were a treasure, delicate and sacred.
“But…” Never moving from his place, Dazai lets go of the boy’s hand and watches him walk
deeper into the sea of red lilies. “But they shouldn’t… it’s too late and—”
The hint of disbelief in Chuuya’s voice makes the fox’s lips stretch into a smile, his eye
warmly dark when the boy looks over his shoulder.
“—but the ones in the garden have already bloomed and withered.”
Yes, Dazai thinks, but last year they didn’t, did they?
Many months may have passed, but the kitsune still remembers the empty eyes and a shallow
voice so weak and broken it reminded him of a ghost. A shadow he never wants to see being
cast over Chuuya ever again. He was glad the flowers bloomed this year, but then he found
this spot when the redhead was away and…
“They’re still here.” The fox shrugs. “And there’s more of them, too.”
A chuckle is the only response he gets, Chuuya’s gaze flying over the small field of lilies
surrounded by trees while Dazai’s eye never leaves the boy standing among flowers.
Because, you see, Dazai is a cruel demon.
And after knowing only cruelty for so long, the small joys shine this much brighter, feel this
much warmer.
Dazai never thought he would find himself longing to see a human smile, to see mortal eyes
shine with fleeting but, oh, so powerful life at the simplest of things, but here he is.
Mesmerised not by the flowers slowly dancing around them, but by the fiery locks gently
blowing in the wind. Enchanted not by the rustle of leaves and spider lilies’ sweet smell, but
by the quiet chuckling sounds and soft exhales he gets from the redhead.
A smile brighter than the Sun.
Hair burning with the hottest flame.
Eyes deeper than the ocean and clearer than any jewel.
All in such a small and frail body, a fierce character blazing inside.
After a lifetime of never seeking the reason to be himself, after centuries of feeling dead
while walking among the living, Dazai has finally found the one person who makes him feel
alive.
A person Dazai isn’t afraid to admit he wants to stay together with.
“Chuuya.”
For however long they’re given, be it a day or forever.
“Would you become my bride?”
Be it a fleeting human lifetime, or the eternity stretching beyond the world itself.
The fox watches the boy still at his words, he can sense the disbelief when the redhead slowly
turns around with wide eyes and…
“What?”
And it only makes him more beautiful.
Silently, Dazai steps closer, flowers brushing his clothes and tails, a sweet scent blooming in
the air as he closes the distance between them. His fingers caress the pearly skin as he tucks a
long strand of hair behind Chuuya’s ear.
“Will you marry me?”
Among the golden leaves falling all around them, the crimson flowers swaying in the gentle
wind, it’s always Chuuya whose beauty and colours overshadow everything else. The shining
azure of his eyes, the delicate pink of his cheeks and lips—
The life he holds within.
The warmth that sets Dazai’s freezing soul on fire every time.
“I…” Chuuya hesitates, searching for the right words among the mess his thoughts must be
right now. “Are…”
The fox doesn’t rush him, there’s no reason for it. Watching the boy unconsciously lean into
his touch as the blue eyes glimpse deep into the honest pits of his heart feels like a dream the
fox wouldn’t mind never waking up from.
“Aren’t we…” The boy whispers, both lost in the dark gaze and seeing everything brighter
than ever. “...skipping a step?”
Somehow, Chuuya still manages to surprise him even when it was Dazai who has planned
this moment so carefully. This isn’t any of the answers Dazai expected, and he was ready for
many different ones, so what does this even mean—
Oh.
The kitsune doesn’t try to hold back the smile it brings to his face.
How adorable, how honest.
Honestly, the kitsune hasn’t realised it until now, because it has always felt so obvious. Just
like you don’t feel about every breath you take, don’t see every blink of your eyes, because it
comes to you naturally.
With ease, Dazai bends down, wrapping his arms around Chuuya’s knees and thighs, and
lifting the boy off the ground. The petals are blown all around them by Dazai’s tails as the fox
spins them around, dancing in the wind with the leaves falling from the golden crowns.
Are they really falling down or flying up?
Or has the time stopped and there’s only the two of them while the world holds its crimson
breath?
Chuuya’s hands grip at Dazai’s shoulders as the boy tries to steady himself, eyes wide and
shocked, gasping at the unexpected movement.
“What are y—”
“I love you.”
Dazai has to tilt his head back to look up at the redhead, his arms keeping the smaller body
close and secure. He sees the surprise, the blush—
“I love you, Chuuya.”
—and he wishes he’ll get to see it every day, say these few words over and over again.
They’re not his breaths anymore, they’re in his heartbeat. Every fibre of Dazai’s being
resonates with this one emotion, one confession, and after all this time of living for the flame
it sets ablaze inside of him…
He can’t keep it inside anymore.
For once, Dazai understands how easy being honest comes to him when the right person is
there to listen to it. Because this feeling, this truth, belongs to him—
To Chuuya.
Along with everything the kitsune has and is.
“It’s not perfect and it’s full of cold scars, but if you let me…” Just this once, the only wish
Dazai has ever made – ever wanted so desperately to come true. “...I’ll give you my soul.” He
buries his face in Chuuya’s chest, closing his eye and only listening to the quick racing of the
other’s heart. “Because I love you.”
Today, tomorrow and every second of the rest of his life, however long or short it may be.
—
‘Would you mind waiting a bit for my answer?’
It’s been days since Chuuya uttered these words despite his heart screaming in the rhythm of
only one answer. Dazai agreed without any questions, his smile didn’t waver for even a
second and it only made the redhead want to release these screams from his chest into the
world more, let the fox know everything, but—
“Can we talk?”
—but first, Chuuya needs to make sure the past stays in the past, before he can claim the
future for himself.
Closing the books he’s been reading while waiting for the boy to come from his bath, Dazai
looks up at him, ears perked up. “Chibi can always talk to me.” The fox purrs, sitting up as
the other settles down in front of him.
Their futon is wide enough for the two of them to sit with enough distance to not be
considered intimate, even if they are sitting on their bed, at night. It’s not an uncomfortable
distance, it doesn’t feel cold – it’s only there for Chuuya to stay focused. Because he needs to
get it out and they need to talk, not let their bodies cast an illusion of understanding.
“Is something wrong?” The fox asks, more concerned than he was a second ago, searching
Chuuya’s face for any sign of trouble, but he only sees a smile.
“No.” And a hint of something hidden behind it. “I just… I want to make sure.”
He doesn’t need to test Dazai’s feelings, he trusts them. And he doesn’t need to test his own
heart because he knows what it wants, but—
//You think this blood makes me a monster while you...//
“You know I truly regret what I said back then, right?” Chuuya sees how Dazai’s eye widens
in realisation and surprise for a second, how his tails go still before they reach out, only
slightly brushing the boy’s legs as if making sure he’s not hurt. “You know I don’t think like
that, right?”
//...you think you're innocent. Am I wrong?//

“Chuuya.” Dazai’s voice is calm, carefully welcoming itself into Chuuya’s mind. “I know. I
said it’s fine.”
The redhead’s shoulders sag, his gazes sliding somewhere to the side. “But wasn’t it because
I was… you know…”
Because he pitied Chuuya.
Because the redhead was too broken to argue with.
“You apologised. A few times.”
An involuntary grimace washes over Chuuya’s face at the memory. It was honest when he
whispered the apology back then, he was desperate for the kitsune to forgive him, and he’s
glad Dazai did, eventually, but he’s had more than enough time to think about it and…
Somehow, even after all of his apologies, it still doesn’t feel enough.
“Apologies aren’t always enough.” The boy mutters, his hand moving to rest on one of
Dazai’s tails next to his leg. “And I know it hurt you.” The truth is, Chuuya doesn’t want to
talk about it, he’d much rather forget that night’s fight ever happened, but it simply won’t do.
What if something similar happens again?
What if the one mistake he decides to let go of comes back to haunt him again? Haunt them?
As if sensing Chuuya’s thoughts, Dazai doesn’t try to brush it off again. Instead, he chooses
to let go, to show the redhead into what his heart holds and hope it’ll be enough.
“It did.” The fox sighs, but it’s lighter than the redhead expected it to be. “There was a time
when humans and demons alike would accuse me of all and every crime that happened, even
if I had nothing to do with it. It came with the reputation, I guess.”
There’s a hint of something bitter in his last words, not necessarily anger, but more like
annoyance. A taste of the memory Dazai isn’t fond of, even if it’s not enough to fuel his rage.
“Your eyes and words that day reminded me of those people and their accusations.”
Chuuya’s heart aches, he can imagine all of that happening all too clearly, imagine the fox
being blamed for everything simply because it was convenient. He hates it, now. He has ever
since the first night he realised that was exactly what he did.
It was too late then.
But it isn’t now—
“That wasn’t fair of me.” The boy says, guilt filling his eyes as he looks up again. “I didn’t
realise I was doing it until… well, until it was too late.” His fingers dig deeper into the white
fur, careful not to hurt Dazai’s tail, but overwhelmed with the need to feel the kitsune. “I
caused their deaths, I know that, and…” He takes a deep breath, trying to sound as honest as
possible because it’s what he truly believes—
“I don’t think you’re a monster.”
Even if he knows Dazai doesn’t feel remorse about his killing.
“I don’t think I’m better than you.”
Because Chuuya doesn’t feel it, either.
He doesn’t want to be better, he only wants Dazai.
“And I am sorry.”
Not because he’s desperate for the wounds to heal, or for the old days to come back. He’s
sorry because he understands his faults and he wants to make sure the kitsune knows it.
Being forgiven out of pity isn’t something he can accept.
By now, Chuuya is fighting back tears with everything he’s got. He doesn’t need to cry, he
doesn’t want Dazai’s pity, like the last time they talked about it while visiting uncle Adam.
But remembering that night isn’t easy – guilt isn’t easy, no matter how sincere his regret and
apologies are.
“I know, Chuuya.” Dazai is too far to reach the boy with his hand, but one of his tails,
different from the one Chuuya is holding onto, brushes away a tear that escaped from the blue
eye, earning the fox a small pout. “You don’t have to apologise anymore, you showed me
how you really feel and I believe you.” Then, with his ear flat on top of his head, the fox
adds: “Plus, I wasn’t exactly nice about it myself.”
Chuuya snorts, his shoulder feeling somehow lighter and his voice coming out not as
strangled as it did before. “Fights are never nice.”
“I wasn’t reasonable about it either.”
That… is a tough question, because was there even a way to be reasonable about it? With all
the hidden pain and bottled up past?
“I’m sorry for scaring you that night.” Dazai says, smiling to himself when Chuuya mumbles
a quiet ‘I wasn’t scared’ under his breath. “But that was then and—”
The tail with Chuuya’s hand resting on it moves, bringing the boy’s palm into Dazai’s reach.
The kitsune’s long fingers wrap around the other’s wrist, sharp nails teasing his skin until the
boy lets go of the white fur in favour of holding onto Dazai’s hand.
“—this is now.”
Dazai has to lean forward to plant a kiss on Chuuya’s fingers, quietly letting the redhead
process his words, and when he looks back up…
His partner is smiling again, relieved.

“Thank you.” Chuuya breathes out, chuckling at how quickly the fox ears shoot up. With a
calmer mind and tension leaving his body, the redhead moves closer, finally within Dazai’s
arms’ reach, and the fox doesn’t waste a single second before pulling Chuuya to his lap. With
his chin on top of the boy’s head and tails wrapping around them both, the fox lets silence
soothes their doubts before speaking again.
“Is this what Chibi needed time for?”
Yes, but not only that.
Letting the last broken pieces fit into place was a big part of why Chuuya couldn’t answer
him right away, and at the time it was the only shadow cast over his heart. Until another fear
appeared, until hesitation welcomed itself into his mind.
Until the redhead realised how selfish he can be.
Chuuya’s hands fist in the other’s kimono, not willing to let go, but hesitant to reach further.
“...it binds the souls, right?” He murmurs, knowing the fox understands what he means –
marriage.
A yōkai marriage.
“It does.”
In a way, it sounds beautiful – a bond that goes beyond their bodies and promises whispered
into the wind, a connection that runs so deep it reaches where nothing else ever could. But
it’s also frightening to think about it, to know Dazai can be his just as Chuuya would be
Dazai’s. Because it’s a perfect promise, a perfect life and—
“...what will happen when I die?”
—a goodbye chuuya will never want to utter.
Slowly, without a word, Dazai leans back, but Chuuya doesn’t have it in him to meet the
other’s gaze, or even look up from the dark, wrinkled material around his hands.
“I won’t live for more than a few decades.” He most certainly won’t live for centuries. “I
don’t want you to go through what already happened to you once, with that orb of yours, and
I don’t want you to follow me when I die.” Because he’s scared Dazai would do that, he
knows he could. “What if you regret it later on?”
“Chuuya—”
“What if you find someone else after I’m gone?”
This time, there are no tears in the blue eyes as they search for Dazai’s face – there is only a
silent plea, desperation and apology bound so tightly together they’re indistinguishable.
“I don’t want you to find someone else.” The boy says, his voice shaking. “I don’t want you
to fall in love again after being mine.”
Chuuya knows it sounds selfish, but he can’t help it. He knows he’ll have to leave the fox
behind one day, but he can’t stand the thought of anyone else knowing the warmth of these
arms and tails. They say it’s the ultimate gesture of love to wish happiness for someone you
can’t have, to wish they would find someone else to fill their life with smiles and love, and
Chuuya wishes he could be like that. He wishes he could be a good person and honestly tell
Dazai it’s okay.
He just can’t.
The sole thought of the kitsune moving on fills the redhead with dread, with this ugly and
painfully human urge to hold onto him with everything he’s got and never let go. If Dazai
was to show the smile only Chuuya knows to someone else, if he was to touch another person
the way he’s touching him now…
It’s selfish of him to think that, yes.
But it would be a fate more cruel than death.
To be forgotten, cast into the past – to be replaced.
Even if Dazai would always hold a piece of him in his heart, Chuuya doesn’t want to think of
a time when he has to share that space with another – share that love. He wants to own it, he
wants to know that just like there is only Dazai for him, he is the only one for the kitsune.
But it also means Dazai would suffer, alone, when Chuuya isn’t there to sleep next to him
anymore, when he isn’t there to unravel the bandages and kiss the cold scars. He can give
Dazai his life, his every morning and breath—
But there will only be so many of them.
And then, Chuuya will be gone.
If he says no, will it hurt less?
If he says yes, will someone else stand in his place one day? Will someone—
“Chuuya.” Both of Dazai’s hands cup his face, and only now does the redhead realise that…
Dazai’s bandages are gone. And when his right eye opens, Chuuya still shivers under the
cold, red and black gaze, the blue flashing in the dark of the fox’s eye like a lightning
freezing his blood.
He doesn’t move away anymore, he’s seen it many times and even if the chill of fear never
fully goes away, he isn’t going to run away.
“I will only ever love you, Chuuya.” Looking into both of Dazai’s eyes is dangerous, it’s like
a labyrinth too easy to get lost in and too tempting to ever want to leave. “I promise.”
“But—”
“Only you.” Dazai presses their foreheads together, the coldness of his black scar meeting the
warmth of Chuuya’s skin. “No matter what happens and no matter where you go.”
Somehow, the fox’s gaze burns hotter than ever, even with the cold storm behind his right
eye.
It’s not that Dazai hasn’t thought about it, he wants to marry Chuuya because he knows how
fast time will fly, how fast the human will slip from his hold and perish. He doesn’t want to
waste their time, he knows this is the only decision he will never regret – to hold Chuuya
close, to hold his soul as a part of himself. No matter how much it will hurt when the time
comes.
Anger, sorrow – those are the songs that life will sing for him later. For now, this is enough.
This is what Dazai wants.
If Chuuya tells him to follow him into the ashes, he will. If the redhead tells him to continue
walking under the sun even after it loses its shine, he will.
If it’s Chuuya’s wish for Dazai to never love again – he won’t.
He has never had any plans to. There is only one human the kitsune will offer his heart to,
only one person who can melt the ice he hides within. Because a kitsune’s love does not
wither, no matter how many decades and centuries go by—
Dazai’s love will never fade away.
Because he’s a cruel and selfish demon, who never lets go, and that’s the way it's meant to be.
“So trust me?”
There are many things in this world that Chuuya would curse, that he would call unfair and
cruel. Some of them are painful, like stealing a life that could have bloomed for years to
come.
But some of them are beautiful in their ferocity.
Like meeting a demon.
“...okay.”
Like falling in love with someone who’s bound to live longer than you, and still choosing to
stay.
“Okay to trust me, or okay to marry me?” The fox smiles and Chuuya swears he can see a
warm sparkle lighting up in the black eye. It doesn’t last, disappearing faster than the boy can
begin to appreciate it, but—
“Both.”
—but it was there.
And, sometimes, a simple sign that escapes faster than you can catch it is enough.
Just like the first whispered ‘I love you’ falling from Chuuya’s lips is enough to seal their
fates together before any other oath touches their souls.
Chapter End Notes
NKLNGSKLGLKNFSLKGNLSJGSIGNKFJNVKJNGDHGJHFKLJNKJDNLHGLTH
GKSJNKLJFOSHJLJLJFH
YES.
IT'S HAPPENING.
AND I MADE MYSELF EMOTIONAL AGAIN, but I'm tired because of exams so it's
fine, I have an excuse.
(pls rememer this is NOT a mcd story, I will not be killing skk off in it, they just HAD to
have this small conversation :') )
Preparations
Chapter Notes
“I know what I said, but I didn’t expect it to happen this soon.”
The three of them are sitting in the main room with the doors wide open to the garden in full
bloom. Chuuya is working on the ornament he has decided on preparing for the occasion a bit
too late and is now running out of time, while his uncles keep him company, helping
whenever the boy asks for it.
Which is almost never, of course, because he doesn’t need help.
“I appreciate the early notice,” Adam says, watching as Chuuya tries to connect the two
pieces with a thin, golden thread. “but I still plan to live for a couple more years. You didn’t
have to hurry.”
The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes before looking up. “You better.” Carefully, he puts the
ornament down. “It’s not because of that, though. Dazai was the one who asked.” And while
the fox knows Chuuya is attached to his family, he doubts he proposed out of consideration
for Adam.
“I figured.” Letting out a sigh, Adam leans back on the wall behind him, crossing his arms
lazily. “However, imagining it is beyond my capabilities.”
“He does have emotions, you know?”
“I don’t doubt it, kid.” A teasing smirk stretches on Adam’s face, his voice slightly shaking
with the laughter he’s holding inside at how not so convincing Chuuya sounds. “He certainly
doesn’t hide his… affection anymore, even with us around.”
Surely, the fox doesn’t care about anyone watching them. Dazai has some resemblance of a
sense of reason, which is likely just his consideration towards Chuuya’s limits, but the longer
they are together, the more the kitsune seems to let go of his veil of nonchalance.
It showed during the Autumn Festival.
It shows every time they visit Chuuya’s family, or any of their friends.
There are moments when the redhead isn’t sure if Dazai wants to show off their relationship,
or keep him solely to himself, out of anyone’s sight and reach – have people know Chuuya is
taken, or never let anyone lay their eyes on him ever again.
Both, probably.
Because the fox is complicated like that, territorial and possessive.

“I just can’t see him as the sentimental type.” Adam continues. “Or the traditional type, for
that matter, and marriage is very much just that.”
Well… Dazai is kind of both and neither, at the same type. Even the redhead gets confused
sometimes, surprised by the little things the fox does that are too normal for a centuries old
demon to bother with. In a way, it’s better to expect everything and anything from him, not
that it’s easy, especially not for someone who doesn’t spend every day with the kitsune.
“But I am happy for you, Chuuya.”
A smile settles on the redhead’s face, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”
He wasn’t exactly scared of his uncles’ reactions to his wedding, but he was nervous about
what they would think about it, in a way. They both accepted Dazai a while ago, they don’t
hate him, but… Marrying a kitsune isn’t exactly the easiest piece of news to give to your
mostly human family, is it?
“And Dazai isn’t all that traditional, I think. It’s not like he asked for your permission before
asking me.” Chuuya doesn’t even know how to imagine something like that happening, and
he has seen the fox doing some very unlike–him things in the past.
“Ah, right.” Adam huffs a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “I may or may not have kind of
mentioned I wouldn’t mind it when we first met.”
“You… what?” Chuuya blinks, caught off-guard.
“But only if you really stretch it!” His uncle puts both of his hands up in mock surrender. “No
actual marriage talk, I swear.”
That better be true, because he and Dazai weren’t even together at the time and—
“...he did.”
—huh?
Both Chuuya and Adam look at Verlaine with wide eyes, surprised and confused, and the
blond man shrugs under their gazes. “He did ask for permission.” Uncle Paul’s lips twitch
slightly, a weird – not bad, just weird – frown forming on his face. “Or rather, for a blessing
of sorts?”
The blond man has been rather quiet until now, which makes his words ring clearer and
louder in the otherwise silent room, despite how he keeps his voice low. It leaves Chuuya’s
mind blank with only one thought remaining--
Dazai did what?
When?
“Oh my.” Uncle Adam appears just as baffled by it as Chuuya, not a single joke falling from
his lips anymore, which already speaks volumes. He nods slowly, clearly trying to process the
information. “That’s… interesting.”
To say the least.
“...what did you tell him?” Chuuya finds himself staring at his uncle, barely blinking as he’s
trying to take in what he’s seeing. His usually straightforward and overprotective uncle being
this quiet, sitting a bit further from the other two with a calm expression Chuuya can’t quite
decipher. It didn’t seem strange to him before, Verlaine is like that sometimes, especially
when something is on his mind, and having the boy you’ve seen grow up get married to a
demon is a lot to think about. But, as it turns out, there may be more to it than Chuuya
previously thought.
He can guess Paul did give his blessing, or whatever the fox asked for, because they are
getting married in less than a day and his uncle is here, not a word of protest coming from
him. Although… he’s also pretty sure Dazai would still go with it if he didn’t get what he
wanted from the other man. But then again, they’re all here and his uncle doesn’t seem
opposed to it.
Verlaine’s expression softens, his eyes meeting bright blue ones as he puts down his cup. “I
would never stand in the way of your happiness, Chuuya. Of course, both of you have my
blessings.”
A sigh of relief escapes the boy, a weight that settled on his heart for a moment falling off his
chest.
Of course.
Why would uncle Paul ever say no?
“Why didn’t you mention it before, then?” Chuuya asks, now more confused than worried.
Uncle Paul is the kind of person who loves reminding Chuuya of every embarrassing moment
and even if asking for a blessing isn’t exactly awkward, it is a good enough thing to flaunt
about. Or at least a good enough thing to make fun of the redhead about how he didn’t see it
coming from his own partner. It’s exactly the kind of story Paul would be saying without an
end, and yet – he isn’t.
It’s now, after his question, that Verlaine shifts in his seat, his shoulders dropping slightly…?
He glances at the other man, not so subtly avoiding Chuuya’s gaze and—
“I, em…” Adam clears his throat, an understanding expression painted on his face. “I’ll leave
you two alone to talk it out.”
Even more confused than before, Chuuya watches the older man stand up. “Huh? Why—?”
“I think it’ll be for the better.” Adam says without much explanation, stretching his back
before heading to the door. “I’ll go help your friends with preparations, take your time.”
Just like that, it’s only Chuuya and Verlaine in the silent room.
“So…?” The boy glances back at his uncle, unsure what to make of Adam’s words.
The older man looks at the closed door for a moment, scratching the back of his neck and
weighing his words before letting them escape into the world. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to
know about it.”
Why wouldn’t he?
Sure, Chuuya didn’t expect Dazai to be this… considerate, and it may become a source of his
headaches in the future, but it’s a nice surprise. It only shows the fox cares not only about the
redhead’s answer, but also about the bits of human tradition Chuuya grew up with.
“Why?” Besides, knowing both of his uncles truly agree to it is all the boy could ask for
when—
“...because it’s parents who are supposed to be asked for it.”
…oh.
Right.
If he’s going to be honest, Chuuya didn’t even think about it that way. Paul has always been
there for him and his dad, his whole childhood. He raised him, he isn’t a substitute for the
mother Chuuya doesn’t remember, or a stranger the redhead was left behind with – he’s
family. And even if his dad was still here… the redhead likes to think Dazai would ask for
Verlaine’s blessing along with his dad’s.
It would only feel right.
But after everything Paul has gone through in his long life, it’s only fair for him to… doubt
some aspects of himself. Knowing the man has spent over a hundred years questioning his
existence and never letting himself feel human until very recently – it makes sense for
Verlaine to be insecure about it, about how Chuuya actually views him.
“Well…” The redhead starts, feeling himself mirroring the same awkward body language as
his uncle uses. He did spend over half of his life watching this man, after all. Which is why
Chuuya knows exactly how he feels.
“I would like for them to be here, but that’s not possible, and—”
Maybe they’re watching from somewhere, who knows?
“—I’m glad he asked you.”
Obviously, he wouldn’t mind it if it was uncle Adam as well – the redhead loves both of
them, considers both of them his family – but uncle Paul…
He deserves it.
Even if he doesn’t always let himself believe it.

He deserves this small gesture after all the nights he held Chuuya close while the boy was
crying his eyes out, after all the times he looked after him while the redhead was sick, or hurt.
After being there for both Chuuya and his dad, and for staying after Arthur had passed away,
as much as he could.
Verlaine’s eyes widen briefly before his gaze melts into something warmer, full of so many
emotions that could never be fully put into words. There’s relief, surprise… gratitude. All
bound together by the thinnest thread of apology.
“I… I guess I was a bit happy about it, too.”
"Take care or let him go, but don't hurt him.” Dazai stops at the familiar words, turning
around to see Chuuya’s uncle walking towards him with a polite and somewhat friendly
smile. “I guess you made your choice, huh, Mr Fox?”
It’s in Dazai’s nature to search for secret meanings, for harmful intentions hidden behind kind
words, but with this man Dazai can’t find anything like that. Sometimes, there is worry and
concern, but not a single drop of malice. It’s almost too good to believe, too pure for a mortal
soul to feel real – but it’s better than being deemed to fight with the man that is important to
his fiancé.
“...it appears so.” He’s never sure how to talk to this human, how to talk to any human that
isn’t Chuuya if he’s being honest. Not unless he wants to trick them, or gain information. The
matter is especially complicated here because this is his partner’s family.
“I’m glad. I like seeing that kid happy.” Adam admits, slowly walking past the fox. “I just
hope you know ‘love’ and ‘hurt’ aren’t always clearly separated from each other.”
Dazai doesn’t let anything show on his face, he knows better than that and he knows no
happiness comes on a silver plate, untainted, but—
“I can’t tell whether you like me or not, sometimes.” Hands hidden in the sleeves of his
kimono and with his tails unmoving behind his back, the fox watches as the human stops and
turns slightly, looking over his shoulder.
“Do you care?” Adam asks. Again, it’s not an accusation per se, but it’s also not a question
born out of hope, or anything as pure as that. It’s just that: a question, and the man’s tone is
too neutral for the kind of message it brings with itself.
It doesn’t make Dazai uncomfortable, he’s not even surprised by it—
“Chuuya cares.”
—and while he doesn’t feel the need to have the redhead’s family be fond of him, he knows
it’s for the best. He knows it’ll make Chuuya happy if they all get along, or simply aren’t at
each other’s throats.
For the first time so far, Dazai sees Adam’s honest smile directed at him, the man’s gaze
softening even without the redhead around. “He does.” The man agrees. “And if you care
about that, then I can say you’re not half–bad as his partner.”
Does that mean… that Adam likes him, or not?
Which is it?
“But I am a simple person.” Adam sighs, waving his hand as he starts walking away again.
“Good luck with getting Paul to like you, he’s almost as stubborn as Chuuya.”
Well, Dazai is fairly sure if he doesn’t need to worry about that—
“He’s an unusual human, huh?” Odasaku leans on the doorframe, looking after Adam as the
human disappears behind the corner.
“He is.” The fox agrees with a sigh, walking into the room together with his friend. “Are you
sure he’s just a human?” Because Dazai doesn’t sense anything from him, nothing more than
this bizarre behaviour and unexplained friendliness towards yōkai.
“I am.”
“Is it about your human’s uncle again?” Ango asks from the ground, a bowl of crystal liquid
swirling inside of it resting in front of the tanuki’s knees.
Yōkai weddings aren’t like human ones, they are both simpler and much more complicated.
Simpler because they don’t last as long and there aren’t as many steps to follow, as many
customs to respect. More complicated because… Well, binding souls together isn’t supposed
to be easy, for anyone. It requires preparation, but that’s for Ango to take care of. He should
earn up to his title of Odasaku’s guardian spirit.
“Yep~” Dazai grins, eyeing the liquid that reflects sunlight with an unnatural brightness. “My
bride’s uncle.”
The tanuki shakes his head, a tired smile on his lips. “I still can’t believe you’re doing it.”
Sitting down on a cushion by the window, the kitsune lets the comment hang in the air for a
moment. Ango keeps his eyes on the bowl while Odasaku sits next to him, only occasionally
glimpsing at the spell to make sure it’s brewing correctly.
“Why not?” The fox muses eventually, tilting his head. “It’s been almost two years~”
“Since you picked him up,” Ango so kindly reminds him. “not since you got together.”
Ah, that’s just insignificant details. “A year is plenty for humans, though?” Or so Dazai
believes. Because for demons, a year is nothing. A blink of an eye, a single heartbeat… “Or
is there a problem, Ango~?”
“You know there isn’t.” His glasses slide off a bit. “You also know none of us expected this
to happen.”
“It’s true.” Odasaku adds, a quiet apology ringing in his voice.
Fortunately, Dazai is well aware of it, so their words don’t come as a surprise. Anyone who
has known him for a while, or who knows of him, would say the same thing: the evil kitsune,
Dazai Osamu, getting married to a human?
Impossible.
Delusions, to say the least.
And even those who don’t think of him as purely evil anymore wouldn’t go as far as to
accuse him of developing feelings towards a mortal, especially to the point of willingly
binding their souls together. It’s final, irreversible, it requires trust that runs deeper than life,
than any emotion a mind can grasp. Most demons don’t get there after centuries of being
together, let alone after a time that shouldn’t mean anything to the fox.
But it did.
And in the end, the decision belongs to him and Chuuya, not anyone else—
“I did.”
Everyone’s eyes dart to the open window and the figure leaning on it. Dazai has to tilt his
head further to look up and into the scarlet eyes gleaming with satisfaction from behind the
purple fan.
“Maybe not so soon.” Kouyou hums, looking over the other two before her gaze settles on
the fox again. “But I knew it would come to this.”
Dazai’s lips twitch. The lethal flower has been too satisfied with herself during their
encounters in the last year, and the fact that she has all the right to be this way is slowly
testing the fox’s patience. Or rather – his pride.
If it was just about him, Kouyou would have never been able to predict this much, she would
have never been able to see through all the turns in Dazai’s mind, but with Chuuya in the
same equation… She’s too good at reading human’s emotions, all of them, not just the bad
ones. Which is likely why she could see them in Dazai before the kitsune became aware of
them himself, before he realised how his own heart mirrored what Chuuya was offering him.
Or maybe it was the other way around?
“Eavesdropping?” Not that the fox will ever admit it to her. “Forgetting your manners now,
lethal flower?”
With a dangerous shine in her eyes, Kouyou closes her fan, revealing a small paper pouch
held between her index and middle finger, and a smile sharper than any sword behind it.
“Forgetting you asked for my help, fox?”
They stare at each other in silence, each trying to cut through the other’s facade with their
gaze. Kouyou knows she’s right and Dazai knows she knows, but he’s also not going to
simply let her win this without an ounce of fight, because he’s almost certain the spirit would
offer to help them herself, eventually. Because she cares about Chuuya as well as Dazai does,
only in a different way.
“...is that for me?” Odasaku’s voice breaks the tension that has settled in the air. Neither
Dazai or Kouyou break their staring contest, but it’s not as fierce as it was just a second ago.
“Yes.” The woman hums, her eyes still locked with the crimson orb. “A simple blessing will
do.”
After another second of their battle, both Kouyou and Dazai look away at the same time, their
eyes moving to Odasaku, who is now getting up to come closer and take the paper pouch
from the spirit.
The kitsune watches his friend take the pouch into his hands, his eye narrowing at the too
bright light briefly flashing in the other’s hand. It doesn’t affect him as much as it would in
the past, but it’s not pleasant to witness either – no pure energy is, especially when it shines
this much brighter than what hides underneath Dazai’s bandages.
“It’s done.” Odasaku offers Kouyou a smile and a polite nod, handing the small bag to Dazai.
The fox takes it carefully between his fingers, examining the… very simple packaging that
smells anything but like flower seeds that are supposedly inside.
“Plant them by the graves and in your garden in the morning.” Kouyou explains, her tone
somewhat softer now. “The ghosts will be allowed to leave their bounding ground and come
here for a full day and a full night, but not a second longer.”
A teasing remark tickles Dazai’s lips, but the fox swallows it. On any other occasion he
would have made a comment about how Kouyou can only muster a mere 24 hours spell, but
with this…
Ghosts that stay behind for a reason are always bound to the area where their bodies are
buried, or where they were burnt away. They can never leave outside a certain perimeter, they
can only go to the afterlife if they choose to, but nowhere else. There are ways to summon a
ghost to a place far away but, most of the time, it requires sacrifices that Chuuya wouldn’t be
happy with and it doesn’t last more than a handful of minutes at best.
That being said, with some help from a god…
It’s still not easy.

Powerful as they may be, even gods can’t dictate what Death can and can’t do. At least not
the gods that rule over the dimensions now. Maybe if it was an older god, it would make a
difference, but those perished long before Dazai took his first breath – for the better.
“You sure hold some dangerous assets in that home of yours.” The fox says. It’s the closest
he’ll get to a ‘thank you’ and Kouyou seems to accept that.
“Am I the only one?” She asks, one eyebrow arched high as she looks down at Dazai.
The kitsune doesn’t answer. Maybe, maybe not. Who can tell?
He hides the small pouch in the fold of his kimono, making a mental note to have one of the
Akutagawa siblings go to Adam’s shrine in the morning before the ceremony.
“So?” The woman takes out her fan again. “Have you won Chuuya’s family’s favour yet? Or
will the poor boy have to earn it for you himself?”
Dazai’s lips stretch into a grin, his fangs flashing dangerously and with much satisfaction.
“Oh, you shouldn’t underestimate me, lethal flower.”
—half a year ago—
“...is there another birthday party I’m unaware of?” Verlaine eyes the kitsune sitting by the
entrance to the small hut he built for himself around here with careful curiosity. He’s not too
worried, Dazai looks too calm for something bad to have happened to Chuuya, and he doesn’t
expect the kitsune to want to hurt him, however…
The last time the fox appeared before him like that, he was turned into a present out of
nowhere, so it’s only fair to ask.
“No.” Dazai answers, standing up.
Paul’s eyes watch the movement warily. “Did something happen to Chuuya?” Maybe he is
wrong and Dazai’s calmness is nothing but a cover for something bad.
“No.” The fox repeats. “I came here to ask you a question.”
…a question? Him?
Surely, there isn’t anything Paul knows that could be of use to Dazai. He may still have some
stories from the boy’s childhood he hasn’t told, but it would be nothing short of odd for the
kitsune to ask about that out of nowhere. It can’t be about his own past – of his origins –
because Verlaine doesn't know much about that, and he can’t even begin to imagine why in
the world Dazai would be interested in that.
Which doesn’t leave him with any other option than to ask…
“About…?”
Dazai stares at him without uttering a word for a moment, his tails still and ears turned to his
sides, like he’s thinking not about what to say, but about how to phrase it. It stretches and
stretches and stretches until—
“I want to marry Chuuya.”
—and then Paul is frozen in place from the sheer shock these few words has brought with
them.
He’s only vaguely aware of how marriages work for demons, but even he knows it’s serious.
Some would argue it’s more serious than humans’ vows, because once wed, the two can
never renounce it, much unlike promises that can always be broken when driven into a
corner. He knew it was a possibility and Chuuya is free to choose whoever he wants for
himself, but…
“...that’s not a question.”
Dazai’s expression doesn’t change, only his ears turn more forward as the kitsune cocks his
head. “Would you agree to it?” He asks instead.
Paul’s eyes widen even more for a second. Then, he frowns. “Would you not do it if I said
‘no’?” It’s not his answer, not yet. Paul simply doesn’t believe his opinion is enough to make
a difference here, he isn’t sure why the fox would go to these lengths to ask about it if—
“I’ll ask him to marry me regardless of your answer.”
—it doesn’t actually matter either way?
Why bother, then?
“However…” Dazai continues. “...I understand it is a human custom to ask for a blessing
from my partner’s family.”
Paul can feel a joyless laughter blooming in his chest, but he knows better than to laugh in
the kitsune’s face. He doesn’t hate Dazai, he likes how the fox makes Chuuya smile. It’s
just… A blessing, huh? From him, no less?
With a smile that’s only for show, Paul walks past the kitsune and reaches out for the door of
his hut. “A blessing from a cursed thing won’t do you any good.”
He’s already pushing the door open, when…
“I’m not asking an object for a blessing.” Dazai’s words are unwavering, without a single
hint of doubt in them. “I’m asking Chuuya’s parent.”
One again, Paul’s body stops on its own. He does consider the redhead his family. Hell, more
often than not he considers him his son, but—
“...I’m not his parent.”
—that’s just him. No matter how much he tries and plays along, he isn't even human, surely it
must be impossible for him to hold such a title in Chuuya’s eyes.
…right?
“You raised him.” The kitsune says. “No matter the blood in either your or Chuuya’s veins, I
believe that makes you his parent.”
Somewhat hesitant, Paul lets go of the door and turns around, searching for some kind of a
trick on Dazai’s face, but he finds none. The fox’s expression may not be polite, it may be far
from being kind, but… it’s honest. Very simply so.
“Don’t misunderstand. I don’t need your approval, or your blessing.”
Too honest, maybe.
“But Chuuya would feel better with it.”
…yes, he probably would.
Although, it’s not a matter of approval if you ask Paul, it’s more than that. Even if he doesn’t
say it out loud, the boy must want for the person he chooses to be with to be accepted by both
of his uncles. Adam doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, and from what Paul has heard
and seen, the fox does care for Chuuya, which is all that has ever mattered. The smile he
loves to see, the laugh he loves to hear – it doesn’t matter if a human or a demon bring them
to the redhead’s life.
“Will you make sure he’s happy?” The question leaves Paul’s lips on its own, the urge
stronger than the confinement of his throat. “Will you make sure he’s safe?”
Because those are fleeting things, happiness can be fragile and lost so easily when
unguarded.
“I will try.”
It’s not what he wanted to hear, but it is the best Dazai can promise, isn’t it?
Paul lets it sink in, lets the promise reach his mind, his heart, bringing a smile to his lips.
“Then you have my blessing. Both of you.”
—present time—
Looking at her work one last time, Kouyou smiles to herself.

The garden was well–kept when she got here, Chuuya must be looking after it with much
care throughout the year. It’s not the biggest garden the spirit has seen, but it’s enough to hold
a ceremony with the number of guests she’s aware of. They only needed to make some
changes, nothing too troublesome, at least not for Kouyou – any flower and plant will listen
to her wishes.
Surprisingly, the most difficult part turned out to be keeping Chuuya away from all the
preparations taking place the previous morning. It wasn’t a problem yesterday, because they
weren’t working in the garden, but today… Chuckling to herself, the spirit walks around the
flowers and bushes she has rearranged not too long ago.
She can’t blame Chuuya for not being able to stay still on his big day, can she?
In the morning, his uncles were supposed to keep him occupied while the Akutagawa siblings
took care of the flowers for the ghosts. Luckily, everything went as planned and the souls are
already here, hiding away to surprise their friend once the ceremony starts.
There isn’t any specific time they’re waiting for right now. The spell for the ceremony was
finished earlier and is now ready, it’s simply a matter of getting Chuuya and that fox ready,
have everyone in place…
Kouyou stops by the new addition to the garden: a few white lilies growing right behind the
last line of flowers, at the very border of what can still be considered the garden. They grow
tall, the highest flowers at the same level as her chest. The spirit’s fingers brush the white
petals, causing the flowers to sway delicately.
It’s a pity, really.
They’re beautiful and, yet, bound to disappear once the spell allowing the ghosts to stay here
breaks. Because they may look like normal lilies to both human and demon eyes, but they
aren’t. They grew out of seeds that shouldn’t have had life in them and bloomed in merely a
few seconds only to serve their purpose, never to stay – they were given life only to allow
Death to follow their trail.
Kouyou’s fingers linger on the flowers for a while longer, her eyes trailing the fainted silver
lines on the petals, the spell she herself painted onto them—
Until something settles on her shoulder.
Something small, weighing less than a feather…
“Hello there.” She says, glimpsing at the blue butterfly sitting on her shoulder without
moving her head. “And hello to your queen, as well.”
Kouyou doesn’t need to look back to make sure her words aren’t met with only the spring
breeze to carry them. Wherever there are butterflies with the wings of deep azure, shining
with gold no matter the light or dark around them, there is always—
“My, my.” A voice like velvet comes from behind her, sweet for the soul if Kouyou didn’t
know any better. “I thought we were past the stage of formalities.”
The butterfly doesn’t move from her shoulder as Kouyou turns around, a smile never leaving
her lips. “And I thought we were past the stage of sneaking up on each other, Akiko.”
A simple–patterned kimono: dark at the bottom and turning pale–purple, almost white, the
higher it goes, with a dark belt keeping it together – simple, unless you see it. The way it’s
not just a faded pattern but black butterflies seemingly captured by the material and held deep
within the fabric, flying from where the kimono teases the ground and higher. The thread that
weaved them is black when the woman stands still, but shining with gold and silver as she
walks. It’s a pattern, but the butterflies always seem to move with her every step, fluttering
their wings, the pale–purple behind them flashing before it disappears again.
Her dark hair frames her face, eyes with purple falling into red, glittering in the sun. There’s a
golden butterfly ornament in her hair from which a small braid falls down, and some may say
it’s a play of light, but others… Others will say the butterfly really flutters its wings from
time to time.
“It’s not sneaking up if you’re aware of my presence, is it?” Yosano chirps, the silver pattern
glittering in the sun with every small move of her lips. It comes out from underneath the hem
of her kimono, climbing the column of her neck and to the side of her face, around her eye.
Almost too faint to see, but impossible to miss.
It used to be more faded when Yosano was younger and only learning about the paths she
would once take, but there is no more of that young hesitation anymore. The Butterfly Queen
always has her chin high, letting the sun kiss the silver pattern on her skin with all its might,
matching the golden glint she gets in her eyes whenever she comes across something – or
someone – interesting.
Kouyou watches as the other woman steps closer, a quiet sound of thousands of wings
fluttering around them reaches her ears like a distant echo. “It’s not a proper greeting, either.”
The spirit says, but there’s no spite in her words, only familiar amusement, far too akin to
fondness.
“Hello, Kouyou.” Yosano chuckles, stopping next to the other, the white lily swaying in the
gentle breeze between them. “It’s been a while.”
“Certainly.” The spirit agrees. “You’ve been quite busy from what I hear.”
“I have.” A sigh. “More and for far longer than I expected.”
Kouyou remembers the unusual unrest from last summer, senses how it continues even if
nothing actually serious has happened yet, and in the middle of it all – the yōkai doctor.
There to help all, regardless of their stance, for however long they need her.
“But I couldn’t miss this.” Yosano adds, a red glint in her eyes as she looks around the
garden with a somewhat surprised smirk. “Who would have thought… a wedding.”
Humming to herself, the spirit recalls a very similar conversation not too long ago and a very
similar reaction not only from a demon, but also from a god. “We haven’t had one in a long
time, have we?”
“I don’t know about you.” Yosano huffs a laugh. “But I haven’t even heard of a yōkai
wedding in the past couple decades, let alone attend one.”
That’s true for both of them. “A nice surprise, isn’t it?”
“We’ll have to see if it turns out nice or not, but…” The butterfly demon’s eyes lock with
Kouyou’s, an intrigued smile stretching as the silver pattern glitters with every word. “...I
agree about the surprise.” She brings her hand up, dark nails tracing the outline of the white
lily. “Especially this.” Yosano’s gaze moves to the flower, examining every inch and every
small vein.
Kouyou observes the other, unbothered by her words, or her tone. The spirit is calm, letting
the woman examine whichever bit of the flower she so desires. “They’re one of a kind.” She
agrees, the butterfly on her shoulder only now flying away.
“It always amazes me how comfortably you can play with the subjects of Death.” Yosano
leans closer to the flower as if to smell it, but her eyes move to the spirit instead. “And how
beautifully.”
Quirking a brow, Kouyou lets her voice dance like petals on the wind, light and
unpredictable. “Amazes, but doesn’t surprise.”
“No.” Yosano hums, looking back at the white lily. “I guess it doesn’t.”
Atsushi can’t help but fidget in his seat, index finger tapping nervously on his tea cup. Well,
maybe not so much as nervously, as it’s with anticipation.
“You know you can calm down a little, right?” Munching on a small, sweet treat he has
stolen from the kitchen, Ranpo leans back on one arm, eyeing the tiger. “It’s not like you are
getting married.” Not today, the human would like to say, but he’s considerate enough not to
make this too awkward, especially when Ryuu and Gin are in the same room.
“...I know.” Atsushi mumbles, then adds louder: “But I can’t help it! It’s my first time!”
“First time attending a wedding.” Ryuu says, just as a teasing smirk stretches on Ranpo’s
lips. The wolf can feel the joke that has almost found its way out of the man’s throat, while
his sister only giggles. “Please don’t make unnecessary comments, for now.”
“How chivalrous of you, Ryuu–kun~” With no more snacks to occupy him, Ranpo lies down
on the floor, arms behind his head. “And no fun at all. Shouldn’t you be helping a certain
redhead get ready?”
He and Gin both, actually, but…
“I believe Chuuya can take a bath on his own. We’ll join him after he’s done.”
Which is going to be any second, most likely. Atsushi isn’t the only one who’s been fidgety
all morning, and the redhead has an actual reason for it – he is the one about to bind his soul
to a kitsune. The doors to the room the four of them are waiting in were left open specifically
for the wolves to be able to hear once Chuuya is finished with the bath, and the boy has been
in it for a while already.
“What if he drowns while you’re not looking, huh?”
Ryuu huffs out a laugh. “There are easier ways to say one doesn’t want to get married,
Ranpo.”
“I doubt Dazai–sama would allow it to happen in the first place.” Atsushi adds, the corners of
his lips curling involuntarily.
Humming absentmindedly, Ranpo looks between them. “If you say so.”
“You’re sulking because Yosano–sensei left you alone again, aren’t you?” Surprisingly, it’s
Gin who speaks up this time.
“I’m not. And she’s literally there.” With a small move of his head, the man gestures towards
the other door, the one leading to the garden and the two tall figures standing in the distance,
their soft laughter carried by the wind even here. “Plus, I can’t be alone when there are three
other people around.”
“So… you’re sulking because Adam–san said you can’t have any more sweets until later?”
“Are you entering your rebellious phase, Atsushi–kun?”
“Huh—?”
“Ah.” Both Ryuu and Gin straighten up at the same time. “We should go now.” As they stand
up, a cloud of dark smoke flows out of Ryuu’s sleeve and, soon enough, Rashoumon jumps
onto Atsushi’s lap, wagging his tail happily. “He’ll let you know when to get ready.”
Because even if it’s not quite now just yet…
It’s time.
Chapter End Notes

This chapter is set a few months after the previous one BECAUSE I’M NOT WAITING
ANYMORE KRLERJFKLRJFLF sorry it’s a bit all over the place, but there is (and still
will be) A LOT to cover regarding the interaction between all guests :’)
And yes, I made Yosano a queen because of my simp syndrome, NO ONE CAN STOP
ME
It's Time
Chapter Notes
“Are you sure you don’t want us to find her?”
Chuuya looks into the reflection of Ryuu’s eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a second before
shaking his head, careful not to ruin his hairstyle. “She left on her own, didn’t she?” The
redhead asks one more time, even though they’ve told him the answer countless times
already.
And just like every other time, both Ryuu and Gin nod.
“It's fine then.”
For Chuuya, it was a kind of a sign that he shouldn’t try to force the past onto someone who
decided to get away from it. He would like to have Yuan here, both her and Shirase, but…
For one of them it’s impossible, and for the other… Well, Yuan left the village a while ago
from what Chuuya is told. On her own, not captured by anyone.
She chose to look away from the past and head for the future waiting for her somewhere else,
if that’s her wish, then Chuuya won’t try to throw her back into a life they can’t quite go back
to. He can’t force her to witness his happiness when she can’t have it, not the way all three of
them had hoped for. It stings, sometimes, how easily Chuuya lost the people he grew up with;
it stings to not have them here, with him, sharing the smiles they would all joke about in the
past…
Ah, but today isn’t the day to be thinking about it.
His friends will always hold a special place in Chuuya’s heart, even if the redhead has lost his
place in theirs, but today is that one day he doesn’t want to spend worrying and regretting his
past. Today is only for his smile, for the start of his future.
If moving away is what’s best for Yuan, then Chuuya hopes she’ll find the peace she
deserves. Meanwhile, he will build his own – with Dazai.
“Everything is ready outside.” Uncle Paul’s voice comes from the door as the man steps
inside.
“We’re done here as well.” Ryuu says, straightening the last wrinkles on the material on
Chuuya’s back and taking a step back, letting the redhead take one last look in the mirror
and…
Just like that time almost two years ago, the redhead sees a pattern he clearly recognises.
There’s the river that lazily flows between the trees, its gentle waters almost like a thread of
blue fire. But the trees are different, they are not black silhouettes on a crimson sky – they
seem to move gently in the wind that only exists in the fabric of the kimono, petals falling to
the blue string below and flying high into the white sky. Some remind Chuuya of the sakura
flowers blooming in their garden, some hold the autumn fire of the spider lilies.
There’s so much hidden in that pattern and, yet, the vast white still feels like it’s waiting to be
filled with more memories.
It’s also more elaborate than his usual clothes, with small silver ornaments here and there,
suspiciously well matching with the hair pin Chuuya only finished working on yesterday. It’s
the flower he once got from the Golden Demon, shining just as beautifully as the day it first
fell onto Chuuya’s palm. It keeps the low, side bun together, with only a few curling strands
falling from it to the boy’s shoulder.
Gin also did something to his face – it’s not exactly makeup, save for the thin red line on his
eyelid… it looks similar to the patterns Chuuya always sees on Kouyou’s face: faint, shining
with white and silver flowers. Only, these look more like small, floating flames around the
corner of his eyes and flowing down his neck, not like petals.
“Don’t worry if you’re not sure what to do during the ceremony.” Ryuu says, smiling at the
other boy. “Dazai–sama and Oda–sama will guide you through it, it’s very simple.”
Chuuya isn’t sure if he would call a wedding something simple, especially a yōkai one, but…
“Thank you.” He turns around to the siblings, offering them the most grateful expression he
can muster with all the good nerves and anticipation boiling in his chest.
Paul moves to the side to let the sibling out, and then there’s only the two of them. “Are you
ready?” The older man asks, smiling and stretching out his hand to the redhead, his voice the
tiniest bit shaking.
Exhaling deeply, Chuuya calms his heart, or tries to, anyway. “I think so.” He’s as ready as
he’ll ever be. He walks closer to his uncle, taking the hand offered. Two pairs of blue eyes
meet, both filled with so much happiness and—
“Are you really going to cry, now?” The redhead chuckles, squeezing his uncle’s hand when
the man leads him out of the room.
“...I’m not crying.” Verlaine mutters.
They walk down the empty corridor leading to the main room, only their footsteps echoing
between the wooden and paper walls.
“You look like you’re about to, though.”
There’s no rush, Dazai may be already waiting for him outside, but a few more minutes won’t
make a difference. He knows Chuuya is coming, and that much is enough.
“Excuse me, young man, but who taught you to make fun of your elders?”
Chuuya snorts, looking up at the blond man. “You?”

Paul’s lips twitch. “I did no such thing.”
“You make fun of uncle Adam all the time.” And uncle Adam makes fun of Verlane, but
that’s just a small, insignificant detail right now.
“He’s younger than me!”
“But older than me!”
They both chuckle as they enter the room, the door that usually stays open now closed as they
approach it, halting only a few steps from the last door separating Chuuay from what lies
ahead. Chuuya’s eyes move from the dark wood to his uncle’s face when he feels a hand slip
out of his own, then two of them on his shoulders. The last bits of teasing fade from Paul’s
face, his eyes glittering with not only held back tears, but also emotions bottled up over
many, many years.
“Your parents would be proud of you.” His smile is gentle, almost shy with how quiet his
words are. “They would be so happy to see you today. I’m sure they’re watching, together
with your friend.”
Taking a shuddering breath, the redhead now has to hold his own tears back. He isn’t going to
cry, he isn’t. Not now.
“I know.” Chuuya says instead, letting his uncle pull him into a hug. The man is careful not to
ruin the other’s hairstyle, or his clothes, but he still holds the boy tight and—
“I am proud of you.”
—and Chuuya presses just this closer, hiding his face in the man’s chest just a second longer,
the same way he used to when he was a child.
But it’s time.
“Right, I’m…” Paul lets him go, trying to brush a lone tear from his cheek away before
Chuuya notices, but the boy knows. “I’ll go outside from the other room.” With one last look,
one last smile, the man walks away, leaving Chuuya with…
The final step to take for himself.
The last decision he has to make alone.
…and deciding has never been as easy as it is now, in this moment.
The doors slide open, fresh air filling Chuuya’s lungs, his eyes narrowing when sunlight falls
on his face, blinding the redhead for a second before…
Before he sees Dazai.
Right by his side, waiting.

The kitsune stands less than two steps away from him, sunlight falling on the tall figure,
making the white fur seem as if it’s glowing with silver light. And not just his fur.
Dazai’s kimono isn’t any of his usual ones, it’s not all dark – it’s similar to Chuuya’s.
It’s not exactly the same, the blue river spiralling around the bottom is flowing through a
field of black and red shadows, but as it reaches higher, the old darkness gives way to the
same light woven into Chuuya’s clothes. The same trees dance in the invisible wind, letting
their flowers fill the spots that were left empty on the redhead’s kimono, completing a
scenery only the both of them can create.
His tails are well groomed, forming almost a complete circle behind the fox’s back. The
white of Dazai’s bandages is almost indistinguishable from the white of his kimono hugging
his neck. They still cover half of his face, one eye hidden from the world, but the other shines
with bright red, with delicate crimson flame taking hold of Chuuya’s heart as it meets his
gaze.
There’s a pattern on his face, white strokes coming from the corner of his eye down to his
neck until they disappear underneath the ever present material there. It’s not flowers, not
flames, it looks like…
Strokes made by a painting brush?
Dazai is smiling at him, not a grin or a smirk – it’s a genuine smile, warmer than the spring
air on Chuuya’s skin, maybe warmer than even the fire in his chest. It’s almost impossible to
look away from the sight, but a golden shine somewhere in the corner of his eye catches
Chuuya’s attention, making him only briefly glance at the garden and…
It really was a good decision to wait until spring.
Until the flowers reach their time. Until the tree that witnessed his and Dazai’s walls crumble
reaches its bloom, a sea of sakura flowers separating them from the blue sky, white and pink
petals falling around them like a gentle rain. A blanket of petals covers the path to the tree
where Oda stands, waiting for the two with Ango at his side, holding a big, silver bowl in his
hands.
At the sides of the aisle, among the bushes of different flowers stand their guests. On Dazai’s
side, there is Gin, Ryuu and Atsushi, small Rahoumon sitting at their feet, wagging its
smoke–tail. There is Kouyou and a figure of a woman made of golden petals floating behind
her, the Golden Demon. Ranpo is there, together with a woman that Chuuya assumes is
Yosano–sensei, who got here while the redhead was still in the bath.
On Chuuya’s side, uncle Paul is already standing at the end, not too far from the sakura tree,
his lips visibly shaking as the man holds his emotions back. Uncle Adam is at his side, also
not as calm as he tends to be on every other day, and next to him…
Albatross and—?
Chuuya can’t stop the choked laugh when he sees the faces of his friends. They’re here,
they’re really here.
“You…?” Joy and disbelief mix in the blue depths as the redhead looks back at Dazai, lips
parted in a question that’s stuck in his throat. Even if the fox doesn’t say anything, the answer
is clear in his eye, in the hand extended to the boy—
“May I?”
—and in every note Dazai’s heart sings, only for Chuuya to hear.
Chuuya’s hand moves on its own, resting on top of Dazai’s palm. The fox’s long fingers wrap
around it gently, sharp nails tickling the boy’s skin in a familiar manner.
The next step, they take together.
The kitsune leads them forward, while Chuuya’s eyes fall on the faces he’s walking past. The
kind smile from Doc, teasing looks from Lippmann and String Man. Albatross looks like he
wants to both laugh and cry and… Even Ice Man is actually smiling, an expression Chuuya is
seeing for the first time ever. Adam’s eyes are glittering, thought not as much as Paul’s, his
hand patting the blond man on the back reassuringly.
By the time they reach Oda under the tree, Chuuya’s mind has already been overtaken by the
same burning flame that sparkled in his chest before. All the colours around him pale, all the
sweet smells and gentle blow of air insignificant—
There’s only Dazai.
Only the kitsune standing in front of him, still holding his hand between them, smiling at
Chuuya with so much care and love, it feels almost too much to handle at once. Even as Oda
starts speaking, to them and to everyone gathered, the redhead only cares for the quiet sounds
of Dazai’s clothes and fur blowing in the gentle breeze, as if nothing else existed around
them.
Oda continues to say something the redhead doesn’t even hear, he only focuses on the
answers Dazai gives, their eyes never letting go of each other. And, somehow, Chuuya simply
knows when he needs to speak. He knows what to say, because his heart whispers it to him.
Maybe it only lasts a few minutes, maybe it lasts for hours – the time doesn’t exist anymore.
Not until Dazai unwraps his finger from around Chuuya’s, switching his left hand with the
right one and laying the boy’s palm flat over his right wrist.
Naked wrist.
The bandages are gone, but only from there, the fox’s kimono slightly rolled up and as
Dazai’s fingers wrap around Chuuya’s wrist and his tail pushes the other’s kimono up as well.
The movement is slow enough for the redhead to watch carefully, breath hitching when he
sees a long, black scar on the inside of Dazai’s arm, feeling it’s chill under his fingertips
while basking in sunlight.
Ango takes a step towards them, offering the bowl to Oda and the god reaches into the
crystal–like water inside it, taking out a long, white ribbon. He then turns to Chuuya, smiling
at him with both deep–rooted dignity and kindness.
“The spell must have your agreement.” Oda says, holding the ribbon in both hands, the one
with the end of it right over Chuuya’s forearm, but not quite letting it fall yet. “Are you sure,
Nakahara Chuuya?”
Oh, how many times Chuuya has heard it by now. How many times he has asked himself that
very same question, always finding only one answer waiting for him at the end of every
thought and every heartbeat—
“Yes.” He looks up at Dazai, right into the red eye he sees and the one he knows is looking at
him from behind the bendages. “I am.”
This may be the one thing in Chuuya’s life he won’t doubt, the one decision that could never
be a mistake.
When the kitsune gives the same answer, the god slowly presses the white ribbon to Chuuya’s
arm and, much to the boy’s surprise, it’s not wet, or cold, from the water it was in just a few
seconds ago. There is a distinct kind of warmth to it and then the boy looks down… The
ribbon doesn’t slide off from his skin as Oda wraps it around his arm, their locked hands and
all the way to Dazai’s forearm. It doesn’t come loose, it’s not too tight, it just… it stays there.
Oda moves his hand over theirs, not touching but only hovering over them, and the ribbon
seems to start to glow.
“If that is what the both of you wish for…”
The god looks between the two of them again, looking for the last sign that they don’t want it,
but… Chuuya nods and so does Dazai.
“...then your souls shall become one.”
It’s with these words, that the ribbon tightens, not hurting any of them, but… disappearing
into their skin. The material is gone, only a white pattern left behind on both of their arms –
faint but visible, gleaming—
And then comes the freezing cold. The burning fire.
All of it.
A part of Chuuya is being ripped out, leaving this hole inside of him, this aching emptiness
that… doesn’t have the time to hurt before something settles in the place of his missing piece.
Something familiar, like a touch Chuuya knows well, maybe better than he knows himself.
It’s like cold water at first, knocking a breath out of him before it starts warming up, filling
every empty and dark space, every corner of his soul. It’s like arms wrapping around him,
like tails keeping him warm and—
It feels like Dazai.
Like the gentle caresses the kitsune trails on Chuuya’s skin in the mornings, like the brushes
of his fur, like falling asleep in his arms.
But his eyes only see the hand under his own, supporting him when the redhead catches his
breath again. That’s the only place of physical contact there is between them, but…
It’s somehow not?
Dazai is with him, all around him – inside his heart. The ghost of his touch feels more real
than the sunlight kissing Chuuya’s face, his presence sparking a flame in the boy’s chest,
and… and there is more.
A somewhat quieter, distant feeling, an echo that rings with Chuuya’s own voice, but from
somewhere far. From a place that kisses the burning flame of his soul with the peasant
coolness, embracing him in the most intimate manner while never touching his skin. The
melody in his heart, a song that has always been there all alone, becomes a symphony of a
thousand notes and two voices singing only for two people to hear.
And, then, a single drop of water falls on their hands.
Then another, and another, and another—
When Chuuya looks up, he finally sees the world around them. The petals carried by the
wind, gold–like dust falling from the dozens of butterflies’ wings flying around them,
glittering in the sun. He sees the rain lazily flowing through the flowers above their heads
from the clear sky.
“How…?”
Dazai looks him in the eyes, smiling as his free hand comes up to cup Chuuya’s cheek. His
palm feels so warm, so right in that place, like it belongs there—
“It’s okay, Chuuya.” The fox murmurs, stealing the world around them once again with how
only he matters to the redhead right now.
Not the flowers, but the crimson jewel shining brightly.
Not the rain, but the words whispered directly into Chuuya’s heart—
“It means you’re my husband now.”
—and the smile brushing his lips, a heartbeat before everything melts into the first kiss they
share as one soul.
And that one kiss holds everything.
All the unspoken words, feelings that only exist deep in their hearts – all the love and trust.
Water droplets continue falling over them as the sounds from all around slowly start reaching
Chuuya’s mind again. Muffled sniffles, soft laughter, some words of congratulations and
maybe even faded cheers that sound suspiciously familiar to Albatross’ voice when the ghost
pretends he’s fine. A somewhat louder sob – most likely from uncle Paul, considering the
wave of teasing laughter that follows it – makes Chuuya chuckle, breaking the kiss and only
pressing his forehead to Dazai’s.
The fox doesn’t mind, he also huffs a quiet laugh at the commotion in the garden. And sure
enough, when the two of them look back at their guests…
Paul’s face may be dry right now, but it’s red with the tears that have already spilled and from
how he’s using the sleeve of his kimono to brush the new ones away. Adam isn’t much better,
he simply doesn’t bother hiding it – he’s too busy teasing Paul to care about his own tears.
The Flags wave at them and, very surprisingly, it looks like Ice Man is the one to comfort
Albatross about the tears that would have been shed if they could. Lippmann and String Man
clap their hands without making a sound, smiling at them with Doc.
Kouyou and Yosano stand together, quietly chuckling at the others, with Ranpo between them
– the man grins at Chuuya, congratulations shining in his green eyes. Gin also waves at him,
Rashoumon running around her feet while Ryuu pats Atsushi’s shoulder… Oh, is the tiger
crying too?
But it’s okay, those are good tears, aren’t they?
Besides, there’s still time for laughter to settle in everyone’s chest. They have the whole day
to celebrate, everything was prepared yesterday as far as Chuuya knows, so…
“Only this once.” The redhead says, glancing up at Dazai. “I’ll let you do it just this once.”
Of course, the fox – annoying as he is – understands right away. Not bothering to hide the
grin stretching on his lips, Dazai’s arms reach behind Chuuya’s legs and back, lifting him off
the ground and sending another wave of petals into the air.
“Shall we~?”
Chuuya will deal with the teasing later – for now, he’ll let the kitsune show off a bit. They did
get married just now, let him have this much.
Let them have it all.
All the congratulations from their friends, all the hugs and happy tears from their family…
The beginning of their new life together flourishing among the flowers that have seen it all
and the crystal droplets that bless them on the world’s behalf.
—
“Are you still going to pretend you’re not crying?” Chuuya chuckles into his sleeve when
Verlaine rolls his eyes and sniffles at the same time.
“I’m not… anymore.” But the reddened skin around his eyes remains. “And I wasn’t the only
one.”
“Ah, how typical.” Adam sighs mockingly, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips. “Using me
only when there’s something for you to gain from it…”
A groan rips from Verlaine’s chest. “Please stop talking.”
Both Chuuya and Adam burst out laughing at Paul’s comment and the slightly annoyed tone.
It’s all jokes, of course, and they make the redhead feel at ease, the nerves from earlier
melting into a warm sense of familiarity. To think they could joke like that, like it’s the most
natural thing, around Dazai and that Chuuya would feel the faint tingle of lighthearted
amusement from the kitsune… it’s everything the redhead could ask for.
To have his uncles here, to laugh with them and with his husband – like a family does.
“Oh, but I can’t.” Giving Verlaine one last pat on the shoulder, Adam takes a step towards
Chuuya and Dazai. He opens his arms in a clear invitation, and Chuuya walks right into
them, hugging the man tightly. “Congratulations, Chuuya.” He says, then glances up at Dazai.
“And to you, too, Mr Fox.”
“Thank you.” The boy murmurs. He doesn’t hear Dazai say anything back, but he’s sure the
fox at least nodded in response. “Are you going to be okay staying?”
Because to Chuuya, having the Flags here is the greatest surprise, but for uncle Adam…
Verlaine can see and talk to them, but Adam can’t. Everyone else seems to have someone at
their side, and Chuuya doesn’t want the man to feel left out, or to make him feel like he has
to hold back just for his sake—
“Don’t worry, kid.” Releasing the redhead from his hold, Adam gestures somewhere behind
him with his thumb. “Ranpo–kun is right there in case Paul reaches his limits with me.”
…Ranpo– kun?
“He’s most likely waiting for me to let him claim all the sweets for himself. I had to chase
him away from the kitchen earlier.”
Yes, that sounds like uncle Adam.
One of Dazai’s tails rubs Chuuya’s back to gain his attention, or maybe simply to feel the
redhead. “Anyone else will be glad to keep you company, should you want to speak to them.”
The fox says to Adam, earning him an appreciative smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Keep your manners in mind as well, priest.” Verlaine adds. Then, he hugs Chuuya the same
way he did before the ceremony. “Congratulations, you two.”
When he pulls back, Chuuya smiles at his uncle, ready to thank him as well, when…
It lasts less than a second.
Verlaine’s hands are holding onto Chuuya’s arms, but the redhead can feel a similar touch on
his shoulders. A touch of a hand on each side, heavy and light at the same time – like a blow
of wind, pressure that doesn’t reach his body, but lingers on his skin so clearly.
It lasts one blink of an eye.
He’s looking at Verlaine, but front he corners of his eyes Chuuya swears he sees someone
else – two people standing at his sides. A woman the boy doesn’t recognise, her smile
brighter than a spring day and eyes clearer than the sky, and a man with long, black hair and
eyes of gold…
(‘Dad…?’)
But before Chuuya can understand, before he can try to lean into the ghost of a touch he isn’t
sure he remembers anymore – they’re gone. Lost with the moment that went away too
quickly to hold onto, with the memory that wasn’t meant to last.
It’s only uncle Paul in front of him, with the smile and eyes full of love so similar to that
woman, and a proud expression that seems to mirror that man’s face.
//Your parents would be proud of you.//
It’s only uncle Paul, the person who raised him and who loves him – the person Chuuya’s
parents trusted with looking after their child, as they watch over the two of them from
somewhere beyond their sight. A man who holds a mother’s gentleness within his heart and a
father’s will to protect their family.
Because even though Chuuya's parents are gone, uncle Paul is here.
Always has, always will.
“ Thank you.”
“Congratulations on your wedding, Chuuya.” The smile from before hasn’t completely faded
from Ice Man’s lips.
“...he used to be so small…”
“You looked really pale at some point, which got me worried for a second.” Of course it did,
he’s Doc, after all. “But now I can see I didn’t have to.”
“...he was kicking a rock, calling it a funny rock…”
“You have a beautiful home.” Lippmann says. “I’m glad we could come see you today.”
“...he was so cute, so innocent…”
“I wish I could have played something for you.” String Man offers the boy a sheepish smile,
rubbing the back of his neck. “But I think the ceremony was perfect on its own.”
“...our baby kid Chu— mngh!”
“Right.” Ice Man sighs as his hand cover’s Albatross’ mouth to stop the ghost from spiralling
down the memory path while they’re all meant to be congratulating Chuuya. “I think that’s
enough.”
Feeling his cheek heating up at all the reminiscing about the past, Chuuya covers his
embarrassment with an amused huff and a roll of eyes. “I appreciate that.”
Lippmann chuckles. “We know.”
“MNGH!”
Everyone’s laughter rings through the air as they watch Albatross struggling against Ice Man,
who only lets the other ghost go once he promises to behave.
“How could you?!” Albatross places a hand over his heart, making the most pitiful
expression he can, but not fooling anyone. “I couldn’t breathe!”
“We don’t need to breath—”
“Cruel.” He cuts Doc off. “Just cruel. What kind of an example are you setting for our
Chuuya–kid?”
The redhead snorts fondly, his eyes darting to Dazai for a second, to where the fox is standing
with Oda and Ango a few steps away, and a bubble of tenderness blooms in his chest.
“Albatross, I literally got married just now. Isn’t it time for you to stop calling me that?”
With the most serious expression Chuuya has ever seen him wear, Albatross looks him dead
in the eyes. “Never.”
…right.
It seems everyone Chuuya grew up around has an issue with being overprotective.
“You are acting like a child.” Ice Man sighs.

“It’s Chuuya’s big day.” String Man pats the other ghost on the back. “Be nice.”
“...” Pouting and letting his shoulders droop, Albatross looks at Chuuya again, at the fond
smile the boy offers him – at how happy he seems.
His eyes shine just like they did when he was younger, but his features are sharper, toned
with experience – mature. Because the boy they all watched growing up still lingers in
Chuuya, in his kindness and care for others, but it’s not all he is anymore. Those memories
shaped him, became a base for who the redhead has become, for who he still is becoming.
The old days remain vivid in the ghosts’ minds, but they’re only the background colours on
Chuuya’s personality.
Because they may stay the same, but he is changing.
As he should.
With trembling lips and tears that fall only in a different life, Albatross smiles – to himself, to
Chuuya. “Congrats…” And to the small boy that peeks at him from behind the crystal of blue
eyes, waving his last goodbye from the past—
“...Chuuya.”
“The ceremony is over.” Ranpo huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now you’re just
being rude.”
“You’ll get your treats, Ranpo–kun.” Adam reassures him, leaning on the wall in the corner
of the room where they’re both standing. “After you congratulate Chuuya.”
“A priest using bribes? Scandalous.”
The older man laughs at that, nostalgia painting his voice. “Believe me, you’re not the first
one to tell me this.”
“I could as well congratulate your nephew after getting something to eat, you know?”
“Or you could wait.”
They stare at each other for a long moment, but in the end it’s Ranpo who lets out a defeated
sigh. Shaking his head, he leans on the wall next to Adam, the back of his head hitting the
chilly wood. “Has he always been like this?” He asks with a hint of a whine behind it.
“Not at all.” Standing next to the two of them, Verlaine has been watching the whole
interaction with unhidden surprise. “He used to be more like you, actually.”
‘Like a brat’ the man would like to say, but he stops himself from insulting a person he has
just met today, because he knows his manners.
“Time must have been rough for you, huh, grandpa?”
“I—” Adam blinks, disbelief settling into his expression and voice. “Grandpa? I’m not that
old. We’re barely 15 years apart.”
“Mhmm, whatever you say."
“What about him, then?” He gestures to the blond man with his head. “Paul’s much older.”
Ignoring the comment, Verlaine’s lips stretch into a wicked grin. “Oh? Using me only when
you have something to gain from it? How typical.”
“I’m amazed you’re not keeping Chuuya–kun to yourself.” Cocking his head to the side,
Ango glances at the young redhead talking with the five ghosts. “Very unlike you if I may say
so.”
Dazai hums, a red glint flashing in his eye. “Oh, but I am~” He takes his right hand out of his
sleeve, showing the back of it to the other two with a self–satisfied smirk on his lips as the
white markings shine on his skin. “I’m always there with Chuuya~”
In his mind, Dazai can see the colours of the old memories the redhead is remembering. In
his heart, the kitsune can feel the same emotions Chuuya is feeling – nostalgia, affection,
gratitude. Everything is there, flowing into him through the connection that binds them
together, that makes them into one. Even if the boy isn’t physically at his side, Dazai can
reach out to him, he can make Chuuya feel his touch, his presence, and he can feel the
redhead close in turn.
Like he’s always here.
Like they’re always together – because they are. From this day on.
“I’m glad it worked.” Odasaku offers him a small smile. “I’m glad you two are happy.”
“We all are.” A sigh. “Just try not to make Chuuya–kun regret this, okay?”
“Ah, Ango, your lack of faith is almost enough to hurt me.” That’s a lie, and they all know it.
Just as they’re all aware Ango doesn’t actually mean it, it’s his duty to look after humans and
their wellbeing, as a god’s guardian spirit. He had to say it, it’s in his nature.
As his gaze comes back to Dazai, the tanuki adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. “So?
How does it feel?”
He isn’t as unaware of emotions as the fox used to be, but that doesn’t mean Ango considers
himself an expert. There is a lot he has learnt over the centuries he’s been around, but there is
also much he doesn’t know – the things he can’t know, not without experiencing them
himself. But he can ask, he can let his friend gloat about his happiness on the day that
belongs to him and his love.
Dazai returns the stare, the tails behind his back relaxing visibly. The teasing smirk doesn’t
waver, but his eye turns into a somewhat soothing shade of dark brown – of honey, of wood
kissed by the sun on a summer day.
“Warm.” The fox says, quieter than before. “It feels warm.”
His friends’ expressions melt into kind smiles, relief flooding their heart as an invisible
weight lifts off from their shoulders when—
“What is warm?” A voice rings next to them, Chuuya’s voice.
The boy stops next to Dazai, nodding politely at Odasaku and Ango, then looking up with the
question in his eyes. He seems calmer, more content – fulfilled. There’s happiness dancing in
the clear skies that mirror his soul, something that belongs there and something Dazai can
feel seeping into his own heart as their feelings mix into one.
“You.” The kitsune says, brushing the back of his fingers on Chuuya’s cheek, when the boy
arches a brow at him. “You’re my warmth.”
He has been for a while now.
“I…” Glancing at the other two standing with them, Chuuya can’t help but feel embarrassed
at those words. Somehow, despite their simplicity, they feel intimate, like a confession that
runs deeper than any other words ever could. “I’m glad, but…”
Dazai chuckles when the redhead clears his throat awkwardly and turns to Odasaku and
Ango.
“Thank you both so much.” The boy bows slightly. “For making this possible.” At his side,
Dazai beams at his friends, one of his tails wrapping around Chuuya.
“No need to thank us.”
Looking between the fox and the boy, another wave of relief washes over Odasaku. Finally,
after a time that has seemed to last forever, he can see his friend’s genuine smile, devoid of
the darkness that always lingers on him. A smile that shines bright, honest, not stained by the
blood and suffering. Even if it doesn’t mean Dazai has changed completely, even if the
kitsune’s cruel nature will always be there as a part of who the fox is – here, with Chuuya, the
shadows of his past are balanced with the light of their future.
They complete each other, dance together and mix into a shade that’s neither good or bad.
Into a shade that holds the sorrows and hopes that come with living one’s life.
“It’s us who are grateful to you, Chuuya–kun.”
Huggin Rashoumon to his chest, Atsushi stands between Ryuu and Gin as all three of them
congratulate the newlyweds.
There is a lot the tiger doesn’t fully understand, like the teasing smirk Ryuu sends them and
how both Chuuya and Dazai, the kitsune who the wolf serves, seem unable to reply to it. Or
how the redhead thanks Ryuu and Gin under his breath, or how the fox pats their heads—
No, this isn’t for Atsushi to understand.
This is too far from the image the tiger has in his mind, and he’s too afraid to ask.
But, in a sense, he doesn’t have to understand, he doesn’t have to know every small detail
from other people’s lives. For him, it’s enough to see how the human smiles when Dazai’s
tails brush his arm, how the fox’s dark and intimidating aura disappears whenever his gaze
falls to Chuuya, and how Ryuu and Gin seem… content.
How they are appreciated by the people who are a part of their everyday life.
This sight before him is enough of a reassurance to have Atsushi smiling to himself, feeling
lighter knowing his partner is in good hands, no matter what stories may be going around.
(And maybe, in the back of his head, Atsushi can see himself being not the one to be
congratulating others, but the one to be congratulated. With Ryuu at his side, only with him.
…when the right time comes, of course.)
“...is there something on my face?” Somewhat warily, Verlaine puts his cup down and looks
back at the god who has been staring at him without uttering a word for a while now.
As if brought back from a trance, Oda blinks, then smiles at the other man. “No. my
apologies, it was rude of me.”
“Please forgive him.” Ango sighs, sipping on his drink. “Oda–san has a tendency to get lost
in his thoughts.”
They’re sitting at one of the tables with Adam and Ranpo, but the other two are too busy with
their conversation to bother about being in the presence of a god. What was the last thing
Paul caught from them? One of Adam’s stories about an old case from over two centuries ago
that Ranpo called ‘child’s play’?
Oda nods. “I’m guilty of that, yes.”
It doesn’t explain much, but Verlaine can feel the god didn’t mean any harm, so he doesn’t
push. “That’s fine.” Instead, he turns to face Oda and Ango more, leaving his friend and the
younger man to themselves. “Thank you for doing this for Chuuya.” He isn’t sure how hard it
is to get a god to conduct the ceremony, even if they’re friends with the kitsune, but he feels it
his responsibility to personally thank the man himself.
As a parent would.
As he feels right.
Smiling at the man, Oda brings his cup up. “It was my pleasure.” He takes a long sip,
seemingly lost in thought again, but then he speaks again and—
“I should probably apologise to you.”
—Verlaine finds himself puzzled. He has no idea what the god that he has only met just now
for the first time could possibly have to apologise to him for.
“...excuse me?”
“Dazai asked me before if I could help with your… situation.”
Ah…
“Hence my staring, but I’m afraid—”
“It’s fine.” Verlaine shakes his head, offering Oda a smile full of understanding and
acceptance. “I knew it already.” And he has already made his peace with it.
“It suits you well.” Gracefully and elegant as ever, Kouyou’s voice rings through the air like a
silky string carried by the warm breeze as the spirit comes closer, the Golden Demon floating
with a hundred golden petals at her side. “The flower.” Then, she glances at Dazai. “And
marriage, too.”
The Golden Demon agrees with a nod, waving her hand at Chuuya silently.
When the comment is met with a huff from Dazai, the redhead elbows him discreetly and
offers Kouyou a polite smile instead. “Thank you, and thank you for coming.” He nods at the
figure made of gold petals and he could swear he recognises a smile right where her mouth
should be. “This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you.”
“It would, lad.” The woman chuckles, amused sparkles shining in her eyes. “It would just
take much longer.”
“We appreciate your involvement, lethal flower.” Dazai’s lips twitch as he swallows the
words of gratitude. He has already thanked her in the past, that’s enough, he can’t be giving
her too many opportunities to look down at him in such a short time.
“I’m sure you are, fox.” Likewise, Kouyou’s tone is sharp with satisfaction. “I’m also glad
the clothes turned out well.”
Chuuya’s brows shoot up, caught off–guard. “You made them?”
“Oh, no, of course not.” Waving her hand dismissively, the spirit chuckles. “My servants did.
You’ve met them.”
“...I have?”
“Indeed.” The Golden Demon’s shoulders shake as if she’s laughing together with Kouyou,
despite no sound coming from the floating petals. “Those figures you saw dancing with the
flowers when the sakura bloomed.”
Ah… so they weren’t just Chuuya’s imagination.
“There’s very little they can’t do.”
With every new piece of information, Chuuya feels like his chest is about to burst with
gratitude. He has so much to thank her for: for helping him find himself when everything else
seemed like a labyrinth shrouded in dark, for helping him and Dazai truly see each other, for
helping with the kitsune’s present and—
“Thank you again.” The boy says. “For this and…” He glances at the Flags talking with uncle
Paul. “...for allowing me to have my friend here with me.”
For making this not only possible, but also perfect.
“You’re welcome, lad.”
A flash of gold in the corner of his eye catches Chuuya’s attention. He’s been trying to
convince the kitsune to socialise more while the opportunity is here, because they aren’t
excusing themselves when the sun is still out, not a chance, but now his head turns to the side
to see…
“Hello~”
Ranpo and…
“I see work has been going well, considering you’re still here, Yosano.”
The woman with a golder butterfly ornament in her hair smirks at them, the silver pattern
trailing down her face and neck glittering with her every word. “I wouldn’t miss this even if
my clinic was on fire, Dazai.” Her voice is accompanied by the quiet sound of fluttering
wings that seems to come from her. “And no, it’s not, but now’s not the time for that.”
Her gaze falls on Chuuya and her smile loses some of its sharpness, softening into a more
polite expression. In his mind, the redhead’s first thought is how gorgeous she is, a beauty
well–matched with Kouyou, though strikingly different – not as elegant, but more dangerous
with its temptation. It’s something the sakura spirit chooses to hide, to keep well tamed, but
this person…
She wears it in all of its poisonous beauty.
“We’ve met before, but I doubt you remember that, do you, Nakahara–kun?”
It’s only now that her voice opens a door that has been locked for a long time in Chuuya’s
mind, a distant memory of gentle whispers coming to him through a thick fog of long–gone
pain. He’s sure he has never seen her, never gave her his name or asked for one in return, but
—
“You healed me when I first got here.” The boy says, bowling politely with his head. “I’m
sorry it took me this long to thank you for it—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It was nothing.” The woman chuckles. “What I got to see today
was more than enough of a compensation.”
That’s… good to know?
Not that Chuuya can be sure what exactly she’s referring to, but he can guess – so far,
everyone has been more than surprised with the way Dazai is acting around him, Yosano
must be the same. He doesn’t know what her connections to Dazai are, but she saved his life,
and that’s enough for the boy to want to get to know her better.
“You can just call me Chuuya.” The redhead offers instead. “Everyone does.”
“Well then—”
“Congratulations~” Ranpo cuts in suddenly, patting Chuuya’s shoulder and with a wide smile
stretching on his lips. “There’s even more sugar on you two now than there was before!”
Smirking at the man with full intent to be annoying, the kitsune tilts his head to the side. “Is
Chibi’s uncle still denying you your sweets?”
“Oi, Dazai—”
“He is, actually.” Ranpo, however, doesn’t seem bothered by the comment. Or at least he
doesn’t let it show. He looks Chuuya in the eyes, the green orbs more serious now… “Your
uncle is a cruel man, Chuuya–kun.”
…or maybe he is bothered, after all?
Letting out a sigh, Yosano shakes her head. “I haven’t spoken to him yet, but I like him
already.”
“Yosano–sensei!” The man whines. “How could you?!”
“Regardless—” Ignoring Ranpo’s mock misery, she looks back at the other two.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Chuuya–kun, Dazai.” She can’t offer them much more
than hoping they will never have to meet under more… work–related circumstances.
Dazai nods, the corners of his lips curling up. “Enjoy your day off, Yosano.” And it’s a grin
the woman returns with all its sweet dangers and promises—
“Oh, I will.”
‘What a sight’, Atsushi thinks to himself.
There, in the garden, the Golden Demon – Kouyou’s most powerful familiar and a presence
that radiates pure power – is kneeling on the grass, patiently watching as Rashoumon runs
around her in his pup–form, wagging his tail. It’s not exactly the Demon that Ryuu’s familiar
is trying to play with, it’s the bird that sits on top of her head – Verlaine’s Guivre. How
exactly the bird is able to sit on a figure made of petals and wind, Atsushi can’t be sure, but
the yōkai world follows its own rules and those are not to be questioned.
“Ryuu…” He whispers, leaning closer to his partner. “Do you really think this is fine?”
He assumes the Golden Demon, or Kouyou, would have said, or done, something if it wasn’t,
but what if he’s wrong? What if they expect everyone else to know how to behave—
“Don’t worry. The Golden Demon doesn’t mind.”
“How can you know for sure?”

“Because…” Putting down his cup, Ryuu props his elbow on the table and rests his chin on
his palm, offering Atsushi a teasing smirk. “...when she doesn’t like something, she cuts it
into a thousand pieces.”
The tiger goes rigid, his eyes blown wide. “...oh.” He will have to make sure to never bother
any of them, not that he had any plans to.
Ryuu huffs out a laugh at his reaction, rubbing gentle circles into Atsushi’s back with his free
hand. “Don’t worry, she won’t hurt you no matter what you do.”
“...is that so?”
“Of course.” Leaning closer, the wolf whispers the words right into Atsushi’s ear, making the
other boy’s cheeks burn in a violent blush. “Ane–san’s familiar would never hurt the person I
love.”
“Lost your pet?” Quirking a brow, Kouyou watches as Yosano sits down next to her with a
cup of sake in one hand.
“Ranpo is busy trying to trick the human man into making more sweets.” A sigh. “Or
gossiping with Gin–chan, I’m not sure.” She brings her cup up, smirking at the other woman
with a glint in her eyes. “To the newlyweds?”
Mirroring Yosano’s expression, Kouyou clinks their cups. “Cheers.”
They each take a small sip, letting only the sound of other people’s chatter fill the air around
them when…
“It’s been a while since we had the time to do this, hasn’t it?” Yosano watches as the liquid
inside her cup swirls. “Sit down and catch up?” It’s been a while since things were normal,
easy – since the time Kouyou’s path littered with Death didn’t cross in a conflict with
Yosano’s purpose of saving life. Since the peaceful days, when her clinic wasn’t full with
patients without a break.
“You’ve been busy, Akiko. I know better than to disturb you in a time like this.”
“Well…” She takes another small sip, feeling the sweet taste and tingling sensation coating
her throat. “I’m not busy now, am I?” She will be again once the day is over, but they have
time until then.
They can make time.
Kouyou hums, a red flash shining in her eyes. “So it would seem.”
—
‘Congrats.’
Chuuya stops.
He… knows this.
He knows this feeling of someone hitting his back, of a light pat or a teasing bump. It’s an old
memory, hidden in the library of his childhood, in the books of running around the fields and
the village’s streets with…
But when he looks over his shoulder, there is only the garden blooming with its colours – no
one else.
Not—
“Chuuya?” Dazai calls out to him, curious. “Are you coming?”
They were all passing time with traditional yōkai games and wedding customs in the garden,
and are only now going back inside to eat the dinner prepared by Adam and Paul. Everyone
else is already in the room, and the kitsune stands in the open door with his hand extended to
the redhead…
“Yeah.” Taking his hand, Chuuya offers Dazai a smile as he leaves the sunset and its warm
shadows behind. “Let’s go.”
It’s not their first time, but it feels like it.
Everything is amplified, every lightest touch leaving behind a trail that burns with violent
passion both on Chuuya’s skin and inside his soul, mapping every corner of it, every smallest
path. Their lips are sealed in a heartfelt dance as Dazai’s fingers slip under Chuuya’s robes,
slowly revealing the skin that has been calling out to him all evening. The beautiful material,
so carefully crafted by the spirits, falls to the ground without any of them caring, and the
kitsune’s kimono follows shortly, leaving their naked bodies pressed together in a tight
embrace.
Now more than ever, Chuuya feels complete when Dazai holds him close, laying him down
on their futon, and when the bandages keeping the kitsune hidden from the redhead disappear
in a wave of blue flames—
It’s different.
The black scars draw Chuuya in with their yearning, his own body feeling the tingle of
invisible cracks under his skin. But they don’t hurt, there’s no pain—
The scars aren’t cold anymore.
They used to be like ice threaded into Dazai’s skin, like hollow gaps where no light could
ever reach, but now they’re warm under Chuuya’s fingers, mirroring the flame burning in the
redhead’s chest. It’s as if it was that exact same flame that fills their emptiness, the same
passion and determination that sets the boy ablaze seeping into Dazai’s soul and owning it.
Hands roam over his body and sharp nails graze his most sensitive spots, but even as he
arches into it, Chuuya can’t stop searching for the kitsune with his own fingers.
For the scars scattered on fair skin, calling out to him.
For the soft hair and delicate fur.
He needs it to feel whole, to claim Dazai for himself, but the one thing that makes Chuuya
lightheaded, that steals the air from his lungs and replaces it with pure longing and desire and
love—
It’s Dazai’s right eye.
The eye that once terrified Chuuya’s soul to its very core, the eye that once filled his heart
with terror, pushing the redhead away to run, to escape from it’s sight and the threats that lurk
inside of it—
It’s beautiful.
Cold, cutting power melted into a storm raging all around them—
But not at Chuuya.
The crimson jewel reflects in the blue eyes with all its peril, drowning in the clear waters and
melting into a sizzling treasure. The black sky behind it envelops Chuuya in its embrace,
lighting up his world in blue flashes that shield him from the world around them. Where there
once would have been fright, now is craving. Where there once would have been
unimaginable fear—
Now, there is only love.
The storm rages on, but where Chuuya’s place is, there is peace and quiet. The sparkle of
warmth the redhead once saw among the dark depths of Dazai’s soul burns bright again, right
where Chuuya’s happiness lies – by his husband’s side, the real him.
“I love you.”
The whispers echo between their lips, lost among the moans and growls that fill the room. It’s
Chuuya who says them as his body arches and his legs tremble around the kitsune's hips. It’s
Dazai who utters them between his thrusts, between the kisses he plants around the boy’s
neck and shoulders, his chest.
“My Chuuya—”
“Osamu—”
One of Dazai’s arms holds on to Chuuya’s hip, and when the boy turns his head to the side on
a choked out moan, he sees the kitsune’s right arm right there, so close. The white markings
wrap around his wrist and forearm, a reflection of Chuuya’s mark, lapping over the black
scars.
Without thinking, the redhead presses his lips to it, kissing the dark lines, the bond that they
share.
Dazai’s thrusts speed up when he feels it, his teeth sinking into Chuuya’s neck and making
the boy gasp in pleasure–pain as electricity rushes through his veins. They’re high on
themselves, never feeling enough and always starving for more.
More of their bodies and liquid pleasure replacing their blood.
More of their feelings, their yearning for one another.
And they always find it, as many times as their hearts desire and as deep as their souls please
it, under the veil of the night that belongs to them and only to them.
On the happiest day and the most beautiful night of his life, Chuuya doesn’t worry about
anything, only letting Dazai lay his claim and claim the kitsune back, over and over again.
On the warmest day of spring and under the shine of the Moon that blesses the darkness with
its magic, the sakura tree blooms with all the life it holds inside.
(…however, in many ways, happiness is just like the flowers that bloom so gracefully under
the stars. Because its beauty may be unmatched, but its time passes quickly, especially when
it's not exactly the time for the smiles to bloom.)
Chapter End Notes

ANNOUNCEMENT
Nothing big, just wanted to let everyone know that the next chapter will be posted on
Monday the 23rd and NOT this Thursday. The official reason is that I wanna give
everyone enough time to fully appreciate the finale of the fluff arc, let that sink in etc etc
:3
…the unofficial reason is that I have a very important exam on Thursday AND another
one on Monday, and I need to study for them if I want to graduate :’)
But don’t worry, that’s just a one time thing! I’ll be back to my regular schedule next
week. I didn’t want anyone to panic about this story being dropped just because I missed
one update, so I’m giving you all a heads up now!
Anyway…
MY BABIES ARE SO HAPPY AND ARE FINALLY FULLY TOGETHER AND

EVERYTHING IS PERFECT AND THEY DON’T DESERVE TO HAVE THIS
TAKEN AWAY FROM THEM BUT I MUST T____T AND I KNOW THEIR
CLOTHES ARE HARD TO IMAGINE BUT THE PATTERNS SYMBOLIZE THEIR
JOURNEY (the river is the same one where Chuuya was attacked, the flowers are
obvious, shadows on Dazai's are his past, and white on the top background of both of
their kimono's is their future, yet untold) AND THEY LOOT VERY PRETTY IN MY
MIND SO YOU'LL HAVE TO TRUST ME ON THAT ONE
Also! I know I make up a lot of stuff/rules, BUT the part about rain coming from a clear
sky (sunshower) is actually a part of Japanese folklore about foxes/kitsunes (kitsune no
yomeiri) and it happens during a kitsune wedding~ So that was a sprinkle of tradition I
put in there :3
(if you know/remember from where that foreshadowing at the end of the chapter is, I
salute you)
AND SO, THE FLUFF ARC IS OVER and we're going back to plot + angst (with a
HAPPY ending at the very very end)
Waiting...
Chapter Notes
—1 year ago—
After centuries of observing the world uncovering its secrets, there are only two things
Fyodor would find truly surprising, each for very different reasons. And, somehow, fate just
so has it that both of these two wonders are laid before him in the span of a mere human year.
One of them – right here, waiting right in his arm’s reach if only he decides to grasp it—
But Fyodor isn’t stupid.
He’s powerful, only few would ever stand a chance against him, but he knows a deceiving
temptation when he sees it. He knows better than to tamper with secrets that weren’t meant
for mortal eyes. Not for humans. Not for a kitsune.
Curiosity is in Fyodor’s nature and so is greed, desire, but he’s not a young, one–tailed fox
anymore, he won’t risk his life and soul for the sake of reaching heights he doesn’t need.
There are those who strive for more than they can handle, who throw away what they already
have in favour of falling to their knees and losing the last sparks of their sorry lives – but not
Fyodor. Once, in the past he’s left behind long ago, maybe he would have tried, maybe
arrogance would have won back then. Now, however, he doesn’t dare touch the demise in the
form of an alluring temptation he’s been presented with.
Instead, he watches the gem from a distance.
Or rather, he watches the thing inside of it.
It looks like burning fire, then like blood swirling in a pit of darkness, and again like liquid
flames imprisoned by the cold crystal. Always changing, always violent inside its prison. It’s
a sight the kitsune never thought he’d witness, a sight he didn’t think possible, yet—
Yet, somehow, that person found it.
And if what they claim to be true can be done…
All nine of his black tails shift behind his back, the light from the captured blood–fire shining
in the deep purple eyes and a faint red glow dancing over the white kimono. It makes the red–
black floral patterns almost come to life, casting shadows on the dark haori hanging loosely
from his shoulders. Involuntarily, the corners of Fyodor’s mouth twitch with curiosity as the
fox thinks about—
“Ah, it really is pretty, isn’t it~” A voice rings from behind Fyodor’s back, but the fox doesn’t
even bother to glance at the other man, let alone feel surprised. “I could stare at it the whole
day~” The cheerful humming sound gets closer, not a single footstep to be heard
accompanying it, until something flops down on Fyodor’s leg.
Someone.
“You’d lose your sanity.” Fyodor lets out a sigh, ignoring the head resting on his lap. “And
you don’t have much of it left even now.”
Nikolai’s satisfied and all too innocent smile doesn’t go away as he looks up at the kitsune,
tilting his head curiously. “Isn’t it fine, in that case~?”
“It’s not.”
Fyodor doesn’t particularly mind the other’s acts of… whatever it is Nikolai is doing to fill
the mad desires blooming in his chest. He’s allowed to be crazy if that’s the price he had to
pay to stay alive this long, the labyrinth of poison ivy in his mind is his own to flourish – but
Fyodor needs him to be as mentally intact as possible for the plan to work. Because it’s
already risky enough and there are too many sensitive variables involved for his liking—
“But it’s really pretty~” A whine slips from Nikolai’s lips as the man rolls away from the fox,
propping himself on his elbows. His long braid lies on the floor between them, his white tail
swaying around his legs with laziness unmatching his playful tone and perked up ears.
“Much more than any of Ace’s jewels.”
Tilting his head, Fyodor snorts at the comment. “That snake’s toys were as worthless and
disposable as the pest himself.”
“Yet, you still made him dance for you~” Nikolai chirps, his feline fangs flashing from
behind his smile. “And it only ended up with more trouble for us, how very unlike your
plans.”
The fox’s expression doesn’t change, but the aura around him darkens slightly – not with
anger, but with amusement. “It’s not significant enough to worry about. A few more months
or years of wait aren’t a problem.” Not to him anyway, Fyodor isn’t sure about that person,
but…
Even if the time was of any importance, the kitsune would gladly use the snake again just to
be able to witness the show that played out just for his eyes. He doesn’t care about what
happened to Ace, though the world does seem cleaner with the snake gone from anyone’s
sight. But it’s only a small addition to the much greater gift Fyodor was given.
Because there are only two things the kitsune would find surprising after his long life: the
essence stored in the crystal before him and…
Dazai Osamu.
Caring about a human, out of all possibilities.
The only other nine–tailed kitsune out there, the only opponent that can and has ever caused
him trouble. The demon who kills out of boredom, the fox whose cruelty has made a name
for him in every dimension known—
That Dazai.
Involved with a little, frail human.
How truly fascinating.
Nikolai hums, his eyes darting to the crystal again. “Did you know he’d show up to help the
poor thing? That friend of yours.”
A chuckle escapes past the kitsune’s lips. “I’m not sure that fox would appreciate being
called my ‘friend’, but… yes, I expected so much.”
Because Fyodor did expect the fox to play the good master he so claims to be, even if for the
sole purpose of getting rid of Ace once and for all, he simply didn’t expect it to mean
anything more than that, and it very clearly did. Fyodor couldn’t be there, or Dazai would
have sensed him, but he saw everything through a spell and… Oh, how unpredictable life can
be, to make the demon with more blood on his hands than anyone else act so tenderly
towards a human, after having walked a path laid with corpses.
Shifting on the floor until he’s lying on his side, his finger running through the white fur of
his tail, Nikolai looks back at the kitsune. His face is that of a cat watching the birds flying
high around the trees, curious and eager, but patient all the same. “Did you know he’d keep
him?”
“No.” And Fyodor isn’t ashamed to admit that, he finds the situation nothing short of
entertaining. “At least not like this.”
“Do you have a plan to get to the boy?” The cat then asks. “Should I make a trip~?”
“It won’t work.” One of the fox’s tails moves to the front, settling on Fyodor’s lap as he
moves his hand over the black fur covering an old wound. “You won’t be able to break past
his spell. You’ll be killed right away.”
Nikolai doesn’t seem hurt by his words, he accepts them with a cheerful hum and an excited
twitch of his ears. “But we need the boy.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Or did that
person find another one to use?”
“No.” To have two such unique humans walk the earth would be asking for too much.
“Dazai’s human is the only one.” As far as they know, Fyodor wouldn’t be surprised if this
Chuuya boy was the only human ever to hold this many blessings in his soul. One blessing is
a rare sight, anything more is… An intriguing coincidence, the fox won’t deny that. “And
we’ll get him.”
Without much care, the kitsune throws a dark cloth over the crystal, covering the shine
burning within it before it seeps into their minds and pushes them into accepting the chaos
within. Like this, the air in the room feels lighter, easier to breathe, alive—
“One way or another.”

—
There are days when Sigma almost forgets he lives with actual demons, with beings that are
supposed to be powerful and mighty and dangerous.
Because it’s nothing he had expected – not that he knows what exactly he had expected
before he came here, he can only be sure it wasn’t this – and it most certainly isn’t anywhere
close to what the legends portray. There are no dark caves, or blood splattered on the walls,
or unimaginable creatures crawling on the floor. There is some dust here and there, and there
are animals in the forest surrounding the house that could potentially be a challenge if faced
with by himself, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary.
If anything, Sigma would say staying here is convenient – comfortable, even. It’s the most
northern part of Japan, the weather here can be more than cruel, especially during winter
months. Sigma would know, unfortunately.
But here?
In this residence cold is never a problem. Somehow, it’s always the perfect temperature inside
these walls, the ceiling never leaks when it’s raining and the wind never breaks through the
wooden walls. He has his own room with his own futon, he can walk around as much as he
wants and… Well, he’s not alone anymore, in many senses.
Nikolai can be a bit strange at times, Sigma won’t deny that, but the cat is surprisingly caring
as well, in his own way. Plus, he’s almost always around, asking Sigma dozens of new
questions every day and never letting silence claw at their days. His games can be…
concerning to say the least, but none of them ever gets hurt in the end, so the boy doesn’t
mention it too much. Fyodor on the other side…
The fox isn’t hostile, he doesn’t chase Sigma away, which is already more than the boy could
ask for. Even when the human first came here, the kitsune didn’t argue when Nikolai said
they’d be living together. He didn’t look thrilled about the idea, but he let it happen without a
single word.
In the beginning, Sigma barely saw Fyodor at all around the house, let alone speak with him,
and whenever the fox did come out of his room…He would look, curious perhaps, and never
utter a word, Unless it was Sigma who would ask him a question. The fox never outright
ignored him and, over time, the kitsune started to gradually warm up to him.
Or so Sigma likes to think.
It’s not the same level of familiarity as it is with Nikolai, not yet, but they’re getting there.
Although… the cat’s overly friendly nature wouldn’t suit the fox, simply imagining it can be
quite a challenge. Fyodor doesn’t spend all the time in his room and he doesn’t frown as
often as he used to, but…
“Sigma–kun~”
Arms draped over his shoulders and a chip resting on the top of his head aren’t anything new,
or uncommon. It has happened enough times for Sigma to learn how not to spill his drink
whenever Nikolai decides to act like… well, like this.
“...hello.” Sigma sighs, a small smile on his face. “Do you need anything?” It wouldn’t be a
surprise if the cat was simply bored, but the boy always asks anyway. He’s allowed to stay
here for free and without any questions asked, he likes to help out when possible.
“Ah, it’s not me.” Nikolai purrs. “It’s Fyodor who needs your help~”
That has Sigma’s eyes blown wide and brows shooting high. Sure, he believes the fox is
getting used to him and maybe even starting to enjoy the company, feeling fond of him if the
boy is being brave enough to let himself believe that, but he has never asked Sigma for help
with anything. He has never asked him for anything, even the chores the boy does every day
are of his own choice, not the kitsune's.
“With what?”
Sigma tries to look up at Nikolai, but it’s not exactly easy in this position, not until the cat
moves back, standing up and offering the boy a hand to help him up from the cushion. “He’ll
explain it himself~”
And, well, who is Sigma to argue with that?
He doesn’t know what this is about, but his curiosity rises with every step they take on the
way to one of the bigger rooms because… What could a kitsune need a human’s help with?
Surely, it’s not the same as Nikolai’s requests to play with him, Sigma can’t even begin to
imagine Fyodor doing half the things the cat does on a daily basis. He’s not too worried, it
can’t be anything dangerous, right? Even with the way the kitsune is and with all the legends
passed down about him, Sigma highly doubts Fyodor would want him to get hurt.
He may be wrong, of course, but he has this feeling that…
“Oh, but remember.”
They stop in front of the sliding door, Nikolai turning around to look at Sigma one last time.
His usual playfulness is painted on his face, but it’s more tamed now, his voice with a faint,
serious note and his ears turned to the sides. He’s himself, but… he’s not. He looks serious
behind a smirk that holds no deceit.
“It’s just a request, not an order.” Nikolai’s tail brushes the boy’s hand as it moves up to
tickle his face, making Sigma wrinkle his nose. “You don’t have to accept it if you don’t
want to.”
Huh?
“We’re here~”
But before Sigma can ask what he means by that, the cat slides the door open, chirping
playfully as he steps inside and drops on one of the pillows next to the kitsune waiting for
them inside. There are some for Sigma as well, placed a few steps away from the other two.
The boy sits down, facing Fyodor, and he can’t help but notice how the black tails sway
behind the fox’s back. They’re usually still whenever Sigma is around, only moving when the
kitsune finds something interesting, or appears worried for whatever reason—
“Nikolai said you asked for me, Fyodor–sama?”
—but then again, Fyodor isn’t exactly easy to read. It may be nothing.
“I did.”
At his side, the cat keeps playing with his long braid and humming playfully to himself, but
the fox doesn’t seem to mind, or even pay much attention to it. Only one of the pointy, black
ears is turned towards him, as if involuntarily drawn by the quiet melody.
“I need to capture someone.” He explains without hesitation, eyes never leaving Sigma’s
face. “Your help would make it more… smooth.”
That’s… not exactly what Sigma had in mind, by far .
“I’m not the best at fighting though…?” He certainly doesn’t enjoy it, even if he also doesn’t
condemn it, and it would most likely come to that at some point, right? “Isn’t Nikolai a better
option than me?”
“Not this time.” The corner of Fyodor’s lips twitches. “And you won’t need to fight anyone,
do not worry about that.”
“Then how…?”
“I would need you to get close to someone.” The fox is calm, his voice levelled and patient
with every answer. “Enough for them to let their guard down. This cat…” One of his tails
points towards the bakeneko. “...will do the rest.”
Nikolai sends him a wider smile, his ears and tail twitching with amusement at the sole
mention of being a part of whatever plan Fyodor has. It does help ease some of Sigma’s
tension, but not all of it.
“...is it a human?”
He doesn’t have to wait long for the answer, because—
“Yes.”
—again, Fyodor doesn’t hesitate.
Now, it makes more sense. Sigma is a human, he may not be the most sociable type and he
doesn’t have a good record of getting along with others around him, but he’s much better at
interacting with other people without arousing suspicion than Nikolai. He knows how not to
creep them out at the very least, which can’t be said about the cat. But he’s not stupid, he’s
not blind, and if Fyodor wants to capture them…
“...are they going to get hurt?”
Sigma likes the demons he lives with, but he would never deny that cruelty is a part of their
nature. While not always correct to every last word, the legends weren’t born out of nothing.
It’s a part of them Sigma doesn’t hate, or mind too much, he simply doesn’t share it with
them. He’s always been a peaceful person, preferring not to bother anyone if he can help it…
“Yes.”
Silence falls around them as Sigma considers it, and the other two don’t rush him. Nikolai
continues to play with his hair and Fyodor only… stares. Not impatient, not demanding, his
gaze is calculating, as if he’s coming up with ideas for all and any of the answers the boy may
give him. A minute stretches into another, and another…
“You don’t have to do it.” This time, it’s the fox who says these few words. “It’s not the only
plan I can—”
“I’ll do it.”
He said it. He means it.
And, for the first time ever, both Nikolai and Fyodor look surprised.
The fox’s eyes widen slightly, his tails still behind his back and head tilted to the side, black
hair falling over the pale face and casting shadows that make the purple orbs shine. “Are you
sure?” The kitsune asks, not suspicious but intrigued by the sudden answer. “That human
may not survive.”
Is Fyodor trying to get him to help, or to scare him away…?
“...” Sigma’s shoulders sag, but his eyes don’t stray away from Fyodor’s. “I said I’ll do it.”
It comes out almost as a pout, a sound that makes Sigma want to hide while the fox only
looks more surprised, humming as he considers it. Which doesn’t make sense – he was the
one who asked for help in the first place. “What if you grow to like them? Become friends?”
Well…
“I won’t be mad.” The fox reassures him. “But I also don’t want any more complications.”
Sigma isn’t sure if they’ll believe him if he says the truth. Nikolai might, Fyodor… maybe?
He can’t actually tell, but that doesn’t change anything.
“I’ll do it.” He repeats again, fully aware of how stubborn he must sound. “Even if I grow to
like them.” Even if it will pain him to go through with it in the end.
Because no matter how close Sigma may get to that human he knows nothing about, no
matter how good of a person they are, he will always treasure the two demons he lives with
more. He’ll always try to help them, no matter the cost, especially since it’s the first request
Fyodor has ever made.
So it’ll be fine.
Even if it is a bit dangerous.
Even if it means he’ll have to stay away for a while.
Sigma knows it won’t be easy, the fox explained that much already, and they can’t have it
done quickly, but that’s okay, he has Nikolai with him. He’ll wait for the right time, for when
there’s a chance to see just who he is supposed to befriend.
And Sigma will do it.
“Can I get—?”
“Could I—?”
Not today, but soon…
—present time—
Silence has never been Yosano’s favourite thing – to her, silence means death. Of her
patients, or her friends, of anyone. It’s what comes after a life was lost, after she failed to
save it—
But, gods, does she wish for just a minute of peace and quiet right now.
It’s been almost two years since the number of patients visiting her started growing at a
concerningly fast pace, and a year since the bell over the doors of her clinic had to be taken
down because of constant ringing that was slowly driving her insane. There’s not enough
space, not enough hands to help around and not enough information.
Why now?
Why like this?
What is she missing to understand what’s going on?
How does she solve this?

Letting out a sigh at the distant sound of someone screaming in one of the rooms, Yosano
stands up from the table with papers and herbs scattered all around it, stretching her back.
Taking a full day and night off for the fox’s wedding was nice at the time, but now…
Now, Yosano may just need to swallow her pride if she doesn’t want this to get out of hand
even more.
These numbers don’t make sense.
There doesn’t seem to be a reason for any of this, so why—
Frowning at the scroll in front of him, Kunikida tries to focus on what he has gathered and
what he knows, which in this case isn’t a lot. The weird unrest in the yōkai world, the fights
breaking out more often that they normally would and the number of uncommon cases
reported by every doctor he knows and has questioned… none of it fits together.
None of it feels natural.
Yes, demons are born with greed flowing in their veins and they are extremely territorial,
easy to provoke; conflicts are, and always will be, a part of their lives, but that doesn’t mean
they are nothing more than mindless beasts. Not all of them, anyway. Because even when the
primal desires take over their minds and they seek to kill, demons are a part of Nature –
above all, they long for balance.
Some wish for it to lead an effortless life, some strive to rule over it, and others are simply
tired of decades and centuries of looking over their shoulder.
So this?
This doesn’t make sense, this isn’t their nature calling out from deep within their souls. It’s
also not a newly born demon trying to cause trouble, Kunikida would have caught them by
now if that was the case, and if it’s not Dazai…
Kunikida’s frown deepens even more.
Despite what he said during the festival, this situation looks nothing like the kitsune’s tricks.
His suspicion towards the bloody fox wasn’t baseless even if it could have been worded
better, considering there were other people around, and Kunikida did investigate the kitsune
from afar for a while – it’s a part of a task he was given by his god. But he has found nothing.
Nothing other than the fox’s… ceremony.
That, however, is the bit of information Kunikida is yet to fully process, choosing to think of
anything but that for the time being. If you ask him to be honest, he’ll tell you that the human
boy has made a mistake by agreeing, that he will come to regret it sooner or later, but that’s
his choice, it has nothing to do with Kunikida.
It would be nice to believe that some feelings can’t be stopped by the boundaries between
different worlds, that for everyone there is a chance out there, no matter what lies in their past
—
Clearing his throat, Kunikida shakes his head and focuses on the scroll in front of him again.
Thinking back to what would have happened if he hadn’t pushed her away won’t solve
anything, it certainly won’t help him with this.
The unanswered questions of the past stay in the past.
The paths that lead him nowhere are his current problem, and frustratingly enough…
Kunikida doesn’t know how to solve this.
What he feels, though, is that it’s not someone pulling the strings from behind to cause the
fight to break out, it doesn’t feel like a conscious plan playing out in the palm of someone’s
hand. There’s no pattern to it, as if it’s not even important enough, merely a byproduct of an
underlying plan let loose into the world, and that makes Kunikida worry more than anything
else. Because if all this chaos around them isn’t a part of the real plan, then…
Then what are they planning?
And who will pay the price for it?
Allowing yourself to get lost in happiness is such a tricky, little thing. It paints the days in the
brightest of colours, plays the melodies that soothe your heart and it blinds you from what is
happening all around.
From the distant signs.
From the shadows lurking behind a corner.
Why worry, when you don’t have to? Why look for what is wrong when everything feels
perfect? After all, Dazai has separated himself from the rest of the yōkai world to live in
peace, to be left alone, why would he bother about its troubles when he has Chuuya at his
side?
When the problems aren’t theirs?
When all that matters is that they’re together?

…right?
Chapter End Notes
Sorry I'm late, yesterday's exam killed me a lil :') but we're back to normal Mon-Thu
schedule now!
It's probably obvious that Fyodor/Nikolai/Sigma will be the """"""""""bad

guys"""""""""" but I hope you won't hate on them too much, because they will turn out
to be quite interesting imo or I'll just scream about them by myself~
A Friend
Chapter Notes
“I don’t think Chibi should go by himself.”
Dazai watches him from the other side of the room and Chuuya doesn’t even need to look at
the fox to know his eye shines with red, he can feel it in the other’s tone. It’s the tone Dazai
uses when he insists on something that doesn’t agree with what the redhead has planned, or
when he tries to annoy him on purpose, or when he’s trying to hide his worry.
And Chuuya understands, he really does, but—
“I’ve gone there plenty of times already.”
—it’s just the other side of the mountain, the same, peaceful village Chuuya has been visiting
over the last few months regularly. The kitsune himself even went there once to make sure
it’s safe, not to mention the Akutagawa siblings who have been going there for almost two
years to buy ingredients for Chuuya.
“With Ryuu or Gin.” Though, the fox seems to have conveniently forgotten all of that. “Or
with me.”
That’s only partially true.
Yes, the Akutagawa siblings were there, somewhere in the village, but no, they weren’t with
Chuuya at all times. Sure, they may have watched him from afar, but they always respected it
when the redhead wanted to spend some time alone, interacting with other humans. There
were days when he’d spend hours by himself, with neither Ryuu or Gin in sight, and he was
fine with it. Dazai, on the other hand, doesn’t like to leave his side at all, but that’s something
Chuuya is already used to. As long as it’s not unreasonable, of course.
Which it is, now.
Letting out a sigh, the boy puts away the bag with his supplies, turning around to face the
fox. “You do remember that I am an adult, right? Not a pet.”
Dazai sits with his hands hidden in the sleeves of his kimono, his tails on the floor behind and
around him, ears turned to the front. Just as Chuuya thought, his eye is glowing with bright
crimson, though not with anger. He must be trying to hide what he’s feeling – it’s a habit the
fox doesn’t seem to let go of, unless it’s about making Chuuya embarrassed, then he knows
no restraints whatsoever – but to the redhead, it looks more like he’s pouting.
A pretence of an abandoned child, sulking and trying to play on the sorted string of Chuuya’s
heart.
A stubborn demon, indeed.

“Plus,” Chuuya continues, ignoring the annoyed twitch of Dazai’s ear when his tries are
thoroughly ignored. “You sent both Ryuu and Gin away for a few days, didn’t you? It’s not
like they can come with me.” And Dazai, with his habit of sticking to Chuuya and growling
at everyone he doesn’t know, is not going in their place.
“Because Yosano asked for their help, which is exactly why I don’t think it’s a good idea for
you to go alone.”
In all honesty, Chuuya was also a bit worried when Yosano–sensei, of all people, sent that
request. It’s nothing big, as far as they know, just a few days of helping around her clinic,
because the number of patients has been increasing lately more than ever and she could use
extra hands to help around. Although, from what she says, it’s more of a strange case that it
is dangerous. Most demons come to her not with physical injuries, but with mental problems
– lost memory, nightmares, sudden and unexplained mood changes – which isn’t in any way
better, no.
It’s only less relevant for Chuuya.
If there were more conflicts going on, if it was actually dangerous for him out there, then
sure, he would understand. But that’s not the case. The only person around who is a threat to
his sanity is Dazai, not the village or its people – human people, might he add. There are
barely any other demons around from what he’s told, and all of them are lesser ones, running
away the moment they smell the kitsune on Chuuya.
“Dazai.” Chuuya crosses his arm over his chest, staring right into the crimson eye. The longer
this goes on, the more amused he gets. Mostly because the redhead is fairly sure it’s not just
worry that makes the fox’s tails move uncomfortably on the floor, but also a tingle of
jealousy. “I’m visiting only one person tomorrow.”
See? Of course, Dazai’s eye twitches at that.
“I don’t need you scaring him just because you’re overprotective.”
The boy that Chuuya is visiting is too nice to be subjected to this fox’s jealousy, not that
anyone would be forced to witness it. Besides, it’s only one of the painting lessons the
redhead agreed to give him once or twice a week, they've done it plenty of times and it has
always been safe, and fun.
But Dazai is, well, himself when it comes to these things. One thing Chuuya learnt about the
fox a long time ago is that he doesn’t like sharing. He accepts it when it comes to family, or
close friends, but not anyone else. Especially since…
“I believe it’s only natural to be protective of my husband.”
Yes, especially since their wedding.
Which, if you ask Chuuya, is even more ridiculous. They are literally bonded by their souls
and both of them have made it clear they have no intentions of letting each other go.
Fine, a part of the redhead finds it endearing. Cute, even. It’s a nice feeling to be wanted,
loved, and it’s also thrilling to see Dazai act jealous and possessive over the smallest of
things. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it is, and even if Chuuya refuses to admit it out loud – he
enjoys the kitsune’s possessive side much more than can be considered healthy. But there’s a
difference between Dazai glaring at other yōkai and him glaring at humans, who have done
nothing wrong.
…then again, he understands where it’s coming from.
He knows this isn’t a fight, it’s coming out of concern for him.
Chuuya lets out another sigh that turns into a half–yawn as he gets up, offering the fox a tired
but honest smile. “It’s because I’m your husband that you don’t need to worry so much.” He
comes closer, gaze softening at how Dazai’s tails instinctively reach for him. “You always
know what I feel.” His right hand cups the kitsune’s cheek, a white pattern around his wrist
seemingly shining in the faint light. “You would sense it the second I felt in danger.”
That’s one of the aspects of their bond. It connects their soul, it connects their feelings and
sensations on a level Chuuya didn’t think possible. His own soul is apparently too… not
demon–like to make the most of it, but Dazai… Dazai is always there. The fox can always
feel the smallest changes in Chuuya’s mind and heart, and he can reach the redhead in ways
he couldn’t before. Even when they’re apart, if only Chuuya closes his eyes, he can feel not
only Dazai's presence beside him – within him – but also his touch. The brush of his tails, or
the warmth of his hand on his cheek, and if the fox tries—
Sometimes, Chuuya can even hear his voice. A low murmur, a quiet whisper that’s easy to
ignore if he’s not listening, but it’s there. With their bond, Dazai doesn’t need to hear Chuuya
asking for help, he’ll know the redhead needs it and he’ll come right away.
In the beginning, it wasn’t easy to get used to it. It never felt wrong per se, but it made trying
to hide anything from the kitsune literally impossible. Plus, the sensations of feeling
everything all at once – both with his body and his soul – were overwhelming from time to
time. But once Chuuya got used to it, once his entire being accepted how Dazai was now a
part of him…
It’s so easy to let himself be enveloped by his presence. So easy to listen to the distant
whispers in his heart when he’s by himself, to never feel truly alone.
The only thing Chuuya would wish for is to be able to do the same, to be able to reach Dazai
through the connection they share and soothe his worries the same way the kitsune does for
him.
“...but then it’ll take me another second to get to you.” Long arms wrap around his middle,
pulling the redhead down onto Dazai’s lap. “Two seconds is too long.”
“It’s not.” Chuuya tries to argue, not bothering to hold back a laugh at how dramatic the fox
sounds. “And nothing is going to happen, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”
Dazai’s ears turn to the sides, flattening over his dark hair, a sign of how he doesn’t like the
idea but will follow it because his husband asks him to.
“...but I’ll walk you there.”
Even if he doesn’t give up that easily.
“Dazai—”
“Something could happen on the way.” The kitsune has the audacity to blink, oh, so
innocently at Chuuya, as if any demon would ever dare to enter the forest Dazai claims to be
his. “Or Chibi could get lost.”
As if.
The redhead knows the way there better than Dazai, he could get to the village without a
problem with his eyes closed, but…
“You’re impossible.” If it’s going to soothe his partner’s nerves at least a little, they can walk
together. Maybe the fox will understand the villagers there are harmless when he sees them.
And out of everyone there, Sigma may just be the kindest one.
“Is that a yes~?” The fox chirps, his ears shooting up and his tails move lively around them.
Annoying.
Cute, but annoying.
“Do I even have a choice anymore?”
Instead of answering, Dazai grins at him, the ‘you made your choice when you married me’
plastered all over his face. Chuuya doesn’t hate that face, that realisation, because yes — he
did make that choice back then. He knew how Dazai can be stubborn and overprotective and
he still chose to stay with him, so even if the fox acts unreasonable sometimes, Chuuya isn’t
going anywhere. He’ll indulge Dazai and walk with him and then, after he’s done, he’ll come
home to his husband, just as unharmed as always.
…right?
Just as Chuuya expected, nothing happens on the way to the village. Dazai would say it’s
because he is here, and then use it as an excuse to go with the redhead to Sigma’s house if
only Chuuya let him, but the boy doesn’t allow himself to fall for it. He knows his partner
and all his tricks – it’s too late for them to work on him.
“...I still don’t like it.”
So, of course, the fox must make sure to whine about it just as they’re about to part.
“Dazai, it’s just a few hours.” The redhead looks up at the other with mild amusement. “Do
you even sense any demons anywhere near?”
“...no.”
“Exactly, so—”
“But it doesn’t mean they can’t appear.”
Honestly, Chuuya finds it the tiniest bit annoying how stubborn the kitsune is, but he can’t
bring himself to be angry about it. Not when Dazai’s ears and tails react so vividly to every
word he says. They perk up when Chuuya very vaguely indicates he might agree to it and
flatten down the moment he declines. It’s too amusing to feel annoyed about, even if the
redhead wishes Dazai would just give up already.
“Listen, I appreciate it, I really do.” Chuuya’s past trauma appreciates it if nothing else. “But
you can’t keep me locked up all the time, I need some space for myself every now and then.”
Because as much as Chuuya loves him, he has always been an independent person. He enjoys
his life with Dazai but he needs freedom, he needs to be able to make decisions for himself
too. The fox doesn’t have to like it—
He only has to respect it.
“...” The frown on Dazai’s face shows just how torn the kitsune is about it, understandably
so, but eventually he lets out a defeated sigh as his tails move away. “Fine.”
Smiling appreciatively, Chuuya pulls the other down, kissing him briefly on the lips. “Thank
you.”
That seems to brighten Dazai up, even if only a little, his tails happily swaying behind his
back. “Anything for my Chibi.” He says, way too innocently for someone who will most
likely keep walking around this part of the forest instead of going back to their house, just to
be close in case ‘something happens’.
Chuuya doesn’t need to ask, he knows him.
“Mhm.” He takes his bag with painting supplies from Dazai, hanging it over his shoulder.
“Don’t cry too much while I’m gone.”
“Silly little human,” A huff. “I don’t cry.”
Chuuya only offers him a snort and a roll of eyes as he walks away from the trees and steps
on the path that leads to the village, leaving the fox to pout by himself.
It’s still before noon so there aren’t as many people around when Chuuya walks between
stalls and small huts, heading to the house at the very border of the village. It looks quite old
and also serves as a shop with painting supplies, which is how the redhead met the boy
working there in the first place.
Sigma is skilled at making brushes and other supplies, and his prices are lower than what
Chuuya thinks the other boy should be charging for his work, but that’s not his call to make.
He was, however, surprised to learn the boy doesn’t paint at all, he may have wished to have
someone else who enjoys it as much as he does to talk to, but that didn’t stop him from
enjoying his short chats with Sigma. So, when Chuuya half–joked about teaching him the
basics, he didn’t expect the boy to agree with such enthusiasm but, gods, was he happy about
it.
He has never given actual lessons to anyone before, but it turned out to be more fun than he
had expected. They meet every Wednesday and occasionally on Saturdays, the only two days
Sigma’s shop is closed, and spend hours painting and talking, sometimes eating together if
they feel like it. Ryuu and Gin are also welcome there, though the house–store isn’t that
spacious to fill all of them without feeling squeezed together. When it’s just the two of them,
it’s perfect, and Sigma—
“Chuuya–san, hello!”
Sigma always greets him with this kind, warm smile, always with ink stains all over his
clothes and face, looking very similar to how the redhead looked every day in the past, back
in his village. His long, white–and–purple hair is tied up in a high ponytail, the ends also dark
with ink, his grey eyes look almost silver when the light hits them just right. Although, there
are faint dark circles under his eyes today that Chuuya can’t help but notice…
“Did you work through the whole night again?” The redhead asks, stepping inside with a
small bow. He tried to get Sigma to just call him just by his name, the boy is only a few
weeks younger than him, but with no success so far. It feels like the boy refuses to cross that
one last bridge of familiarity, out of respect or awkwardness…
(Or guilt.)
Sigma laughs awkwardly, closing the door behind him. “Something like that.” He offers
Chuuya the usual cushion to sit on, snacks already waiting on a small tray next to it. “Would
you like some tea or…”
Just like every week, their lesson passes in peace.
Sigma is a bit more fidgety than usual and seems more distracted than on most days, but
Chuuya assumes he’s just tired, because he looks like it. It doesn’t take away from his
enthusiasm though, and he has made a lot of progress since Chuuya first started teaching him
in winter, almost half a year ago now. For the redhead, it’s a completely new sort of feeling of
satisfaction to witness the result of his, and Sigma’s, hard work – satisfaction and feeling
proud, fulfilled and happy to find someone to share his passion with, someone who will
appreciate his work without the strings of family bonds requiring him to do so.
A friend.
If Chuuya may think so to himself.
They’ve come a long way since the first day Chuuya stepped inside Sigma’s shop, making
the boy panic at the unfamiliar face. He was much shyer then, barely spoke to the redhead
and when he did, it was always overly polite, to the point where Chuuya thought Sigma was
scared of him. Or of the Akutagawa siblings, which would be too surprising. But it’s better
now, they both feel at ease during their lessons and their conversations found a flow that fits
them perfectly.
They’ve already finished when the redhead takes a closer look at Sigma’s piece while the boy
puts his supplies away, looking over the long lines of the landscape blooming on his paper…
“Is that your hometown?”
They always talk a bit more before the redhead goes back, getting to know each other is a
given after spending this much time together, but there is still a lot Chuuya doesn’t know
about the other boy. Mostly because he doesn’t like to pry, or seem insensitive, not because
he isn’t interested. He knows Sigma isn’t from around here and that they’re the same age,
some of his favourite food and activities, but not much more.
And, fair, Chuuya never exactly shared his own past either, for various reasons, but it
shouldn’t hurt to try, right?
“Huh? Oh…” Sigma’s eyes follow Chuuya’s gaze, falling on the painting lying on the
ground. “No, it’s not. But it is where I lived before coming here.” A small smile blooms on
his face, grey eyes softening with nostalgia as they look at the scenery, with a hint of sadness
tainting them.
“It’s beautiful.” At least from what Chuuya can see in the painting.
“Thank you.” Sigma offers him a smile and a quiet laugh. “But it’s much colder up there, so
it’s not an easy beauty to live with.” After all the supplies are carefully stored away, Sigma
moves to the small table in the corner of the house that serves as the kitchen. “Would you like
to take some for Ryuu–san and Gin–san?” Without waiting for an answer, he already starts
wrapping the small treats in a white cloth. “I made too many anyway.”
It’s yet another tradition.
Sigma always offers Chuuya some of the things he makes, as a way to thank him, and it’s
delicious each time. Sigma’s house, it always smells of ink and cookies every single day
Chuuya visits. However…
“They’re not here, actually.” He takes a sip of his drink, not noticing how Sigms stills for a
second before looking over his shoulder with curious eyes.
“Travelling?”
Far from it, but Chuuya can’t tell him they’re helping a yōkai doctor with her patients, can
he? “Sort of.” The redhead settles on a vague answer instead. It’s not that he’s somehow
averse to lying, especially when it comes to the non–human part of his life, but he doesn’t
want his friendship with Sigma to be based on lies alone, not when he’s the first human the
redhead befriended after…
Well, after losing Shirase and Yuan.
Of course, there is also Ranpo, but Chuuya has only met him three times so far, it’s different.
“Oh.” The boy nods as he finishes wrapping the food. “Must be lonely, staying by yourself.”
He walks to Chuuya and sits down next to him, offering the package with a somewhat sad
smile. “I would know.”
The redhead’s heart squeezes a bit. Something tells him Sigma isn’t talking about his
situation right now, at least not only about it. “Well… I’m not exactly by myself.”
Of course, the other must be at least a little surprised. Chuuya has never mentioned Dazai
before, neither did Ryuu or Gin. It was never the right situation, plus, he’s not quite sure how
to explain his relationship with a kitsune, who prefers to stay invisible to the human eye
whenever they’re out in public, to another human and not look like he’s lost his mind.
“...family?” Sigma asks, a note on uncertainty in his voice.
And, well… A husband is family, so he’s not wrong, even if that’s probably not what he
meant.
“My partner.” Chuuya answers, remembering the first night Dazai called them that and hating
the faint blush blooming on his cheeks. They’re married, why in the world is he getting
embarrassed about talking about it?!
Sigma must have noticed though, because the corners of his lips twitch, probably holding
back an amused smile, because what else?
“That’s… nice.” The boy says slowly. “Are they going to pick you up instead of Ryuu–san
today?”
“No.” Chuuya huffs, amusement bordering on annoyance in his voice. “I told him to wait for
me at home,” Or in the forest. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Ah, is your boyfriend the overprotective type?”
“Gods, yes, he even—”
Wait, what?
Blinking in silence, the redhead looks at Sigma, confused and trying to recall everything he
has said before without much thinking.
“Ah, I’m sorry!” The boy covers his mouth, shrugging. “You said ‘he’ and I assumed…
sorry…”
Yes, he did.
So much for being secretive. One mention of Dazai’s more annoying character traits and
Chuuya forgets to be careful about his words. Although… Sigma doesn’t seem bothered,
despite how it’s not exactly the standard around here, so maybe…
“It’s fine.” Chuuya reassures him. “Actually… he’s more of my husband…?”
That probably isn't what Sigma expected to hear and the redhead doesn’t blame him. Grey
eyes widen and his lips part slightly despite no sound coming out. He just… stares.
Then blinks.
Then…
“Oh, oh. I’m—”
Well, Chuuya can’t say it’s not an amusing reaction. Hopefully, enjoying Sigma’s troubled
expression doesn’t make him too bad of a person.
“Congratulations.” The boy finally says. “That’s wonderful, I mean— I’m not sure what else
to say, sorry…”
“Thank you.” Chuckling at the cute reaction, Chuuya waves his hand. “It is wonderful, well,
most of the time anyway. He can be incredibly annoying if he wants to.” Or even when he
doesn’t want to, Dazai has a talent for thinning Chuuya’s patience like no one else.
“You sound like you really care for him.” The other offers a fond smile, warm even if
tiredness must have taken some of its brightness away.
“I do.” If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have married him. There is no point pretending otherwise.
“What about you? Is there a family waiting for you there?” He nods at the painting again and
Sigma falls silent, thinking.
His smile doesn’t disappear, but his eyes seem somehow distant now, though not entirely
cold. They’re painted with melancholy, longing… guilt?
“It’s… complicated.” Sigma whispers, and Chuuya can’t find a name for the emotion he
hears in the other’s voice. He’s about to apologise and say the other doesn’t have to share any
more if he doesn’t want to, but the boy continues before the redhead can force his voice out.
“None of us are related by blood, but they are the closest I have to a family.”
The closest? Does that mean…?
“They’ve looked after me for almost five years.” Sigma looks up again, smiling at Chuuya
awkwardly. “My ‘real’ family wasn’t exactly a dream.”
…oh.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Sigma shakes his head. “You told me about yourself too. I don’t mind. My
‘real’ family, they… they weren’t bad people, but they were like strangers, and if I hadn’t
learnt how to look after myself early on, I…”
He wouldn't be here now, Chuuya doesn’t need to hear that to know what Sigma means.
“They didn’t care, that’s all.” He says it as if it’s simple, as if there’s nothing wrong forcing a
child to grow up before it should. “So I left, and they…” His eyes dart to the painting again.
“They accepted and helped me.”
It wasn’t to get information out of him that the redhead decided to mention Dazai, Chuuya
simply felt like he could share at least some of his life with someone he likes to think of as a
friend. He never meant to remind him of any painful memories, or make him uncomfortable
with bringing up the past.
Fortunately, Sigma doesn’t look too sad, not more than he usually does. Ever since they first
met, Chuuya has never missed the melancholic look in the grey eyes, even if he doesn’t
comment on it. He’s sure Sigma must miss his home, or these people he has left behind, and
there’s nothing wrong with that.
Although, there is one question that is now bugging him more than ever before…
“Can I ask you something?” When Sigma gives him a nod, the redhead puts his cup down,
tilting his head curiously. “Why did you move here?”
Travelling to find a job, or a better place to live, isn’t uncommon, but it doesn’t seem like
Sigma was unhappy with the people he lived with. Plus, from what he says, his home is far
from here and opening a store with painting supplies in a small village away from any big
cities is nowhere near beneficial, there must have been better settlements on his way here. Of
course, Chuuya is glad he got to meet him, he just can’t make much sense of it.
“Oh, I’m…” The boy fidgets, scratching the back of his neck. “These people that I lived with
needed my help and this was the only option. It’s…” He looks away, his voice quieter. “It’s
complicated and much more difficult than I expected, and they said I didn’t have to do it,
but…”
That’s… weird.
But who is Chuuya to question other people’s living situation? There may be some things he
can’t see, things Sigma isn’t comfortable with sharing, and that’s fine. He recognises the look
on the boy’s face: the longing, affection, care—
“You miss them, don’t you?”
—and love.
What kind, Chuuya can’t be sure, but he sees it in Sigma’s smile and eyes – shy and pure, but
fierce all the same, like a spark that shines brightly in the dark night.
“Yeah, I do.” The boy admits quietly. “But I want to help, I’d do anything to help them.”
(Wouldn’t we all?)
The redhead can’t stop the smile it brings him, his hand reaching out to squeeze the other’s
arm. “I’m sure they’re grateful, and that they miss you, too.” He can’t know what exactly
Sigma is referring to, but…
He understands how he feels.
If it was for Dazai, or uncle Adam or Paul, there isn’t anything Chuuya wouldn’t do if they
needed him. He’d hate to leave them alone to face whatever shadows they’re fighting,
abandon them after they’ve done so much to help Chuuya without asking for anything in
return. Even if they tried to hide it, tried to reassure him it’s fine, that he doesn’t have to help
– he still would.
Because that’s what family is for.
(For better or worse.)
It’s more of an instinct to lean closer and hug the boy who starts to look like he’s about to cry
despite the smile he refuses to let go of. It’s an instinct to wrap his arms around Sigma, offer
a friendly embrace to calm his nerves, and the other boy doesn’t fight it.
Sigma also wraps his arms around Chuuya, relaxing into the quiet embrace… well, he wraps
one arm around him at least. The other arm the redhead can’t see, but Sigma must have
moved it to untie the ribbon keeping his hair up, because long strands fall down the second
after, tickling Chuuya’s face.
…now that he thinks about it, he has never seen Sigma with his hair down.
“Chuuya–san?” The boy whispers, now fully hugging the other.
“Hm?” There are many words Chuuya could expect from the boy, but what he hears isn’t any
of that. In fact, it’s something he doesn’t understand, doesn’t know where it would come from
—
“I’m so sorry.”
The next second, there is rustling echoing in the hut, a black material coming out of nowhere
and wrapping around them. Then, the second after that, Chuuya catches a glimpse of a red
eye, of a hand stretched out to him, he hears a sound that may have been his name, but—
It’s gone before he can hold onto it.
Because two seconds is too long.

Chapter End Notes
Well................. :)
Ngl, I like this Sigma

Let It Burn
Chapter Notes
“Chuuya—!”
There is nothing, no one.
Standing in the middle of a stranger’s house, Dazai stares at the empty space in front of him,
at the spot where Chuuya was until mere seconds ago. The image of the redhead lingers in his
mind, his scent filling Dazai’s lungs, but—
But he’s not there anymore.
Chuuya isn’t here.
He was, just a second ago, right here, almost in Dazai’s reach. Blue eyes searched for him,
Dazai felt their confused gaze, saw the brief moment of recognition in the clear skies.
But he’s gone.
His Chuuya isn’t here.
Even worse, Dazai can’t tell where he is, and he should be able to. Their bond should tell him
everything, he should sense the redhead’s whereabouts even if they’re worlds apart, but he
can’t. The connection wasn’t broken, it can never be, but it feels like it leads to nowhere, like
the path to Chuuya is shrouded in a thick fog, in darkness Dazai can’t see past.
It’s wrong.
So, so, so wrong.
Dazai never should have agreed, he never should have let Chuuya be alone with a stranger, he
never should have let him out of his sight. But he did, and now Chuuya is gone. Someone has
taken him, someone has dared to steal him away from and—
And Dazai is going to kill them.
He’ll kill them for taking his Chuuya away – for every scratch he finds on the redhead’s
body, he’ll kill them again, he’ll burn them, rip them apart into shreds and feed the pieces to
starving beasts. They’ll suffer a thousand times for every drop of the human’s blood, for
every feared shiver. Dazai will make sure that not only their bodies meet a slow and
agonising end, but also that their souls may never know peace ever again—
After he finds Chuuya.

After the boy is safe and back to where he belongs, and to do that, Dazai needs to calm down.
It’s been so long since the last time the kitsune felt anger burning his hot, rage taking over his
mind like a storming fire of bloodlust. It’s been so long, it numbs his senses for a moment,
clouding his judgement with hatred and desire to kill, and that simply won’t do. Without the
bond guiding his way, Dazai needs to find Chuuya on his own, and for that, he needs to focus.
For the sake of his human, he can’t let rage rule over his heart, no matter how temptingly it
sings to him.
The fox closes his eye and forces his anger out of the way, shutting it off with the bloodlust to
be used for later. It’s not easy, the thought of someone, of anyone, laying their hands on his
husband while Dazai is stuck here is driving him insane faster than rational thinking can take
hold of his mind. He needs to focus, but he wants to kill. He needs to find a solution, but he
wants—
Chuuya.
Chuuya, who isn’t here, because Dazai let his guard down. His human, who was taken away
because the kitsune wasn’t careful enough. His partner, who he swore to protect, and failed.
…but who is unharmed, wherever he is.
For now, anyway.
Because no spell and no barrier can break the bond between their souls, no one can truly
separate them. Dazai may not know where Chuuya was taken, and it feels like losing a part of
himself once again, but he can still sense everything the redhead feels right now. He can feel
his confusion, denial… fear.
Gods, Dazai wants to have him in his arms, wrap his tails around the redhead and tell him
he’s safe, that no harm will come to him. He can’t. Not really. But even if Chuuya feels
scared, even if that sole thought is enough to send a rain of sharp needles onto Dazia’s heart
—
He isn’t hurt, there is no physical pain coming from the other side. The kitsune would feel it
if it was there, no matter how brief or small.
So Dazai forces his mind to clear, his senses to take in everything around him, he forces
himself to think, not to panic. The first realisation comes to him slowly, like a memory that
has never seemed important until now.
He takes a deep breath, the smell of ink and painting materials filling his lungs together with
a faint hint of something sweet, of baked treats. Dazai knows it well, Chuuya smells similarly
after working on his pieces, and he has always smelled exactly like this every week after
coming back from the village for the past months. It’s a different ink than the one the redhead
uses, with a smell strong enough to cover a human’s scent entirely.
It’s not uncommon, normal human’s scents are weak and easy to conceal, unlike yōkai traces,
which is why Dazai has never worried too much about it. If this person that somehow
claimed some of Chuuya’s attention was a demon, he would have sensed it no matter what,
and he didn’t.
Now, however, in this stranger’s house, he can finally smell the other human boy. It’s faint,
barely enough to pick up from under the overwhelming smell of ink and brushes and food,
but it’s there and—
Dazai remembers it. He smelled it before, at the Autumn Festival. He smelled this human and
the bakeneko friend of his, even if the cat has never shown themselves. The fox’s tails move
violently behind his back, causing some of the appliances to fall over while Dazai lets the
horrifying realisation sink in.
It’s not an accident, it’s too perfect to be a coincidence.
This was planned and Dazai didn’t see it.
He can’t smell the demon, which means the cat was clever enough not to come here at any
point in the last months, even if they weren’t clever enough to stay away from what belongs
to Dazai. But they helped, the kitsune is sure of that. The weird scent lingering in the air is
the reminder of a spell that took Chuuya away, and while it’s not the same, it’s similar enough
to that bakeneko’s scent, however faded and covered. It’s only here, it doesn’t lead anywhere,
meaning Dazai can’t follow it, but—
Oh, he knows that scenery.
And it makes his blood boil.
Whoever this human and his bakeneko are, they aren’t working alone—
They’re working for Fyodor.
The one demon Dazai has tried to keep away, the one he has been monitoring to make sure he
wouldn’t leave that frozen forest of his. And Fyodor has never left, has never so much as
stepped a foot outside of his territory, Ryuu would have noticed if he ever did, and then Dazai
would keep Chuuya at his side at all times no matter what. But it wasn’t the damned kitsune.
He asked someone else to do it.
And they will all pay for this if Dazai ever gets his hands on any of them.
Usually, his flames are calm as they wrap around him, only climbing high enough to send
Dazai to wherever he wants to go, but that’s far from the way they burst all around him right
now. The fox isn’t trying to subdue them, he doesn’t care about the destruction they leave
behind. The blue fire explodes all around him, swallowing everything inside the hut and
burning it to a crisp. Dazai doesn’t care if it’ll cause chaos, if the whole house burns down.
Hell, the entire village can perish in his flames for all he cares.
It’s not his problem, Dazai only needs to find Chuuya.

Fast.
Just like that, the inside of a burning house fades away as an unwelcoming forest closes
around the fox. The trees Dazai knows and has wished to never see again, the air that should
be fresh, but only smells of poison to him – it’s everything he remembers all too well,
everything he’s come to hate, then leave in the past, and now hate again with newfound
strength. But regardless of his feelings, he knows where he’s going.
He knows where Fyodor has his lair, he knows how to get there even if the spell concealing it
won’t let Dazai’s flames transport the fox directly to it, cutting off his path at a distance that’s
merely an inconvenience. The kitsune can see the border, a line very similar to his own back
home, but made out of purple flames that grow higher the closer he gets to it. That’s only
expected of the other fox; Dazai's spell would do the same should Fyodor try to cross it –
neither of them wants the other to ‘visit’, for whatever reason.
Not that it matters. Dazai will get past it.
It’s not completely effortless, but he steps past the barrier. His skin burns faintly, healing
faster than Dazai can actually feel the wounds Fyodor’s fire inflicts on him. His tails shake
off the remaining flames before blowing out the rest of the border with a single swing once
the kitsune is fully on the other side. Once broken, the barriers are easy to destroy, especially
when Dazai isn’t trying to hold himself back anymore.
Once inside, he finds the house right away. A residence even bigger than his own and equally
as smelling of the many enchantments reacting to his presence from within its walls – and
only silence coming from the inside. He’s still going to check it, he won’t risk overlooking
anything, but—
Something doesn’t feel right.
The barrier was almost too easy to break through, and no one came to fight, there hasn’t been
even a single trap around waiting for him, and now this. This eerie silence, devoid of any
fresh scents he could pick up. They could be concealed with a stronger spell, but if not…
No one is guarding the house, nothing is trying to keep Dazai away as he steps inside. The
fox doesn’t bother with opening every door, he destroys every wall around him with his tails
as he walks down the corridors, leaving a trail of blue flames raging on the cold wood and
turning it into ash.
No Chuuya, no Chuuya, no Chuuya.
The last room and—
Chuuya isn’t here.
Fyodor and his servants, or whoever they are, must live here. Their scents are old, lingering
at every step and every corner, but none of them are here. None of them are within Dazai’s
reach, within the range of his claws and teeth, of his tail that are itching to rip them into
pieces—
If they’re not here, then where are they?
Chuuya’s side of the bond is still only a storm of racing emotions, more violent with every
second and growing more desperate, and it hurts to know Dazai can’t calm him, can’t help.
His Chuuya is alone with them
His Chuuya is scared.
His Chuuya is in danger—
“I’ll come for you.” Dazai mumbles to himself as he walks out of the house, this time very
consciously, and with every intention of burning the whole area down, letting his fire explode
behind him. “I swear.”
He looks over his shoulder, red eye bright with the sick desire to destroy that Dazai hasn’t felt
in a long, long time, and he makes his flames swallow everything. He doesn’t want a single
wooden panel left behind, a single plate waiting for its owners to come back to.
They took Dazai’s home away from him.
So he will take away theirs.
“Yosano–sensei, a new patient has just come in with a case of severe spiritual power
dysfunction. Haruno–san is currently taking care of them in the east wing.”
“Another one?” Yosano almost doesn’t want to believe it. “Are you sure it’s not just a curse?”
“Positive.”
Great.
“...I’ll be there in a moment.”
In all these centuries she’s been around, Yosano has never seen a situation as bizarre as this
one. There were major conflicts breaking out between yōkai, or between yōkai and humans;
there were times when the neutral ground of her clinic was flooded with blood and screams
of pain that linger within the walls to this day, the same way they do in her mind. She
remembers having enemies resting side by side in some of the rooms, she remembers trying
to save everyone that crossed her gate – sometimes, she would inevitably fail, because skilled
as she may be, Yosano isn’t a god.
…although, Death isn’t even under the gods’ jurisdiction.

Never has been, never will be.
But after all of that, all of the suffering and madness she witnessed in the past – this is
different.
For over a year now – a human year, a brief moment in demons’ lives – she has had patients
coming in with similar symptoms almost every day. Memory loss, their powers fading all of a
sudden, or not listening to their calls; some of them were on the brink of insanity, and some
have already lost it without return. The symptoms themselves aren’t anything unusual, a
decent curse can do this much when cast by a semi–skilled demon, but it’s the sheer number
of cases in such a short time that worries her, together with the fact that…
The cause of it?
Yosano doesn’t know.
It’s not a curse, she hasn’t found a single trace of it in any of the patients, no matter how deep
and carefully she looked for it. Hell, she hasn’t found a single trace of anything out of the
ordinary so far. They’re all physically fine, their minds weren’t tampered with and their souls
all seem fine. At least on the level that is visible to her, and her insight is inferior to gods
only.
It doesn’t make sense.
There has to be a reason, something she’s missing.
Nothing special happened in the last year. No new gods appeared into the world, none fell
from their palaces nor were any forgotten by the world, forever perishing from existence. No
new powerful demons emerged; all the dimensions have been at peace. There is nothing
powerful enough to corrupt this many souls in such a short time without leaving a trace so
why—
“Yosano–sensei?”
A new voice rings from the door, and Yosano’s lips twitch as she’s dreading any new
information. Please don’t tell her another one came in before she even got a chance to see the
previous one, or worse – please don’t tell her fights are breaking out inside the clinic, with
everyone losing their mind.
“I’ve finished setting up the additional rooms on the upper floors.”
Oh, thank gods.
“Thank you, Ryuu.” Yosano lets her shoulders relax for a second, turning her head to the boy
and offering him a tired smile as she puts down the herbs and medicine she’s been mixing
until now. “You and Gin are a huge help.”
The siblings are diligent in their tasks, and dutifully fast while at it. It makes Yosano want to
snatch them away from that fox’s hands, but she knows it would never work, unfortunately.
Even/ if Dazai were to allow it, which is already a far stretched assumption, the Akutagawa
siblings are too loyal to him, they would never leave until ordered otherwise, because it’s not
fear that keeps them bound to Dazai’s side – it’s respect and gratefulness.
What a pity, truly.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to focus on next?”
“Sadly, yes.” Yosano gets up, sighing. “Come with me. Haruno may need help with moving
patients around.” She walks past Ryuu and down the long corridor, quickly calculating how
much of each ingredient for the medicine she’s been using a lot lately she has left.
Probably not enough. Is it time to send someone to Kouyou for more, given how desperately
she needs it? But should she make it a favour, or an exchange, or—
The sudden, unannounced sound of fire crackling behind her immediately has Yosano on
high alert.
The clinic is completely neutral, and there have been no attacks on her for a very long time,
but it’s never fully out of the question. And for anyone coming with an injury or a plea for
help, it’s more common to use the actual entrance, instead of appearing behind her when
she’s already dealing with too much. She’s a doctor and she has vowed to save others, but
that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to make anyone regret every sneaking up on her on
a bad day.
But today isn’t a time for her to let her frustration out, not yet.
It takes less than a second to realise who the flames belong to and a heartbeat for confusion to
settle in Yosano’s mind, following that realisation. Maybe she’s more tired than she thought if
she can’t even understand why Dazai would pay her a visit out of nowhere, or maybe she
isn’t in the mood to be dealing with that fox right now.
Or both.
“What do you—”
“I’m taking them back.” Dazai cuts her off unceremoniously, not sparing a single word of
explanation. Despite the bright red flame burning in his eye, his stare feels freezing cold, like
an old shadow crawling out of the depths of the fox’s past.
“Wha—”
“Now.”
“Yes, Dazai–sama.” Both Ryuu and Gin appear at the kitsune’s sides immediately, only
bowing their heads politely at Yosano before all three of them disappear without any further
explanations.
… fantastic.
Just what she needed in the middle of this mess.

Sure, the Akutagawa siblings helping out here was purely a favour, there was no contract. or
an obligation, to be broken, but…
“What the hell?”
She can’t help but feel annoyed at how things have turned out. This isn’t like Dazai, this isn’t
like the current Dazai. The kitsune that stood before her just a moment ago wasn’t the same
demon Yosano saw not too long ago at the wedding, no. This was more like… like the old
Dazai, the kitsune who—
“We should keep one room vacant for when he comes back.”
A sigh.
What is it with people sneaking up on her today?
With crossed arms, Yosano takes half a turn, raising her brows at the human peeking out from
one of the nearby rooms. “And why would I do that, Ranpo?” Obviously, she won’t refuse
helping anyone who comes to her injured, but there is no reason for her to be playing
favourites. Especially after the stunt Dazai has just pulled. “We can lay a futon for him
outside for all I care.”
“Not for him.” Ranpo says, green eyes falling to the small burnt circle on the wooden floor.
“For his human.”
That makes Yosano stop for a moment. The idea seems almost impossible, considering how
she has never seen Chuuya without Dazai clinging to his side, or at least keeping the boy
within his tails’ reach, but she knows better than to question Ranpo’s intuition. For a human,
he’s always dangerously correct when it comes to these things. And he’s also incredibly
annoying while at it, but if he turns out to be right about it…
It’s a shame, really, because Yosano has come to like Chuuya. He’s nice and way too good for
Dazai if you ask her, much too forgiving and patient with the fox and his nature. The redhead
even properly thanked her for saving his life two years ago, which is something Yosano not
only didn’t expect, but also didn’t particularly feel necessary. But the kind soul that he is, the
boy did it anyway. However…
“I know you’re fond of him.” She says, keeping her tone professional and levelled. “But we
don’t have enough available space as it is. I’m sure Chuuya won’t mind sharing one with
someone.” Dazai most likely will, though. But if the fox wants her help, he’ll have to follow
her rules.
“He’ll need it.”
Yosano’s eyes narrow as she stares at him. “Why?”
And for once… Ranpo hesitates. It doesn’t look good on him, and it lights up a sparkle of
concern in the woman’s chest. The human stays quiet for what feels like hours, frowning…
It’s the first time ever that Yosano hears him say it, but despite admitting that, there is no
hesitation lingering in Ranpo’s next words as his green eyes meet Yosano’s.
“But he will.”
“Chuuya was taken.” Dazai says the moment all three of them reappear in front of the
residence, his tone sharp and cold, like a dagger pressed to one’s throat. “That human from
the village was one of Dostoevsky’s pawns.”
The fox doesn’t look behind him to see if the siblings are following him into the house, he
knows they are, and that they are listening, waiting for orders instead of asking unnecessary
questions.
“But he left his frozen den.”
He’s headed straight for the study, for what he knows he can use. He can feel the tension and
worry radiating from the other two even if they stay silent behind him, choosing not to
disrupt the fox.
Wise, if nothing else.
Because questions are a waste of time they don’t have, time that Chuuya doesn’t have—
“I can’t locate him.” Growling the words out, the kitsune slides the door to his study open
with his tail, not caring about the wood breaking from the force put into it. “None of them.”
Which means Fyodor got his hands on a spell that can, to some extent, mute the connection
between bonded souls. Dazai always knew something like this was possible, but such spells
are extremely rare and difficult to obtain, even for someone like him. Which then means
Fyodor is either desperate and has been planning this for at least the whole two years, or he
has help. From someone who doesn’t mind about the dangers that come with meddling with
souls, about the risks, but that’s a problem for later, for after they find Chuuya.
The strongest spell Dazai is aware of, one that could cause problems even for him, would last
at most 24 hours – both so short and too long. But they can’t just sit around and wait for it to
break, not when each second means putting his human in danger.
Every minute drags on forever.
Every moment could be the last one before the bond goes silent forever—
“I want you to search every corner of this world.” Dazai says, searching through the scrolls
on one of the shelves Chuuya tidied up last year. “And of every other there is, until you find
him.”
Anger, then fear, then panic and anger again flood Dazai’s heart like a violent wave hitting
the shore during a storm, showering him with the emotions so vivid and so quickly changing,
it makes him dizzy for a second. Those are not his own, they don’t burn with the same
ferocity – their Chuuya’s. Whatever is happening there, outside of Dazai’s sight, can’t be
anything good, it’s making the human’s thoughts and emotions louder than ever, desperate.
They’re a sign that Chuuya is alive, yes, but they’re also a distraction, making the kitsune
want to drop everything and cover the whole world with his flames until he finds him.
But he can’t.
Because one world isn’t enough, and he isn’t enough to find the redhead by himself before
it's too late. He needs Ryuu and Gin’s help, and he needs to be able to tell exactly where they
are at all times, and for that he needs something that he knows is here. Somewhere between
the many scrolls and books littering the shelf, there is—
Found it.
“Here.” Tossing the scroll to the side, Dazi walks back to the siblings with two small pieces
of inked paper, giving one to each of them. “Once you find him, tear the seal.”
Fortunately, he doesn’t have to explain anything more. Both Ryuu and Gin recognise the spell
well and they know Dazai will keep the third piece of paper with him. Once one of them is
torn, the other two will guide them to the right location, no matter how well guarded, or how
far.
Without saying anything, the Akutagawa siblings disappear from his sight, each swallowed
by a cloud of black smoke, leaving the fox alone with this thought, with the silence stretching
inside the house and… with a painting hanging on the wall at his side.
A painting Dazai had Chuuya make back when everything was going as it should, when the
redhead was safe and always there to be wrapped by his arms, even if they weren’t together
at the time yet. Usually, the sight of it makes the kitsune calm, reminding him of the far
they’ve come, but right now…
Right now, it only fuels his rage, clouds his mind with the familiar darkness that once
dictated everything the kitsune did, and Dazai—
He doesn’t mind.
If it brings his Chuuya back, he will show everyone how much he hasn’t changed.
Chapter End Notes
Unhinged Kitsunezai is kind of my favourite, so I'll let him rage a a bit very soon :3
we'll be back to Chuuya and to what's going on there next~
Questions Without Answers
Chapter Notes
“Chuuya–san, I’m so sorry.”
“Wha—?!”
“There you are~” Someone muses behind him, a voice Chuuya doesn’t recognise. “Don’t
take this off, okay~?”
Wh—
What is going on?
Everything happened so fast. Dazai was there, the redhead is sure about that, but something
black and cold wrapped around him before the boy could realise the fox tried to reach for
him, call his name. Then, Dazai was gone, and now Chuuya is feeling overwhelmed. In all
the bad ways.
It was dark, but now everything around looks so bright, almost too bright, blinding Chuuya
momentarily when his eyes search for anything familiar, anything that would tell him what
the hell happened. It’s cold here and eerily silent, save for that single, playful voice telling
him to… Something is wrapped around his right hand and arm – it doesn’t hurt per se, but it’s
uncomfortable in a weirdly disturbing way, invading Chuuya’s mind in a way that doesn't
belong there. His knees hurt from the rough stone under them and…
Wait.
Stone?
That doesn’t make sense, he was kneeling on the wooden floor just now, next to…
“Sigma?”
Chuuya’s stomach twists as he forces the words out of his throat, feeling dizzy all of a sudden
from all the blood rushing through his body and the cold shiver running down his spine,
seemingly without a reason. Something doesn’t feel right. Something is missing, something
that he’s gotten so used to… but what is it?
It’s a struggle to force his eyes open, to understand what he’s seeing and what is happening
all around him, all while unimaginable anger starts to boil inside of him. Anger that isn’t his,
but feels so vivid, so close to his heart Chuuya can feel its burning claws setting his insides
on fire. There’s also this weird feeling around his arm, like a thousand needles teasing his
skin without breaking it, but coming dangerously close to it. His other hand flies to his arm
and, sure enough, there really is something covering it, he didn’t just imagine it.
Thick, rough material, both cold and burning hot to his touch, and Chuuya can’t get it off.
…wait.
But where is Sigma? Why isn’t he answering?
“Sigma?” Chuuya tries again, focusing on forcing his eyes open and trying to look around
while he adjusts to the brightness. It’s all blurred, white and black and red colours all around
him. There is a figure sitting on the ground not too far from him and another one kneeling
behind it…
“Ah, my apologies.” The same voice as before rings, it’s this someone kneeling on the
ground, someone Chuuya doesn’t know. “First time using my wrapping spell can be quite
disorienting. You’ll be fine in a moment~”
Wrapping spell…?
That’s when Chuuya snaps out of it, driven by the familiar, but distant, rage and the
unnerving feeling of having lost something important, something that should be there, but
isn’t. His eyes shoot wide open and—
The person sitting on the ground a few steps away from him is Sigma, one of them at least,
but this place isn’t the boy’s house. White and black stones surround them from all directions,
torches that shine brighter than they physically should while not giving off any kind of
warmth… It’s a cave, and it has Chuuya’s blood freezing in his veins once that realisation
sinks in. Because he doesn’t like caves, he loathes them from the bottom of his heart, them
and the memories they bring with them. The last time he was in one it was when Shirase…
“...why?”
Sigma isn’t looking at him, he doesn’t even look that much better than Chuuya, at least
physically. Just as blinded by the light and only slightly less dizzy, but he’s stable and he
doesn’t look disoriented, or scared. The other person is holding him up, one hand behind his
back and one on his shoulder, his eyes never leave the redhead and his ears…
It’s a demon.
A demon Chuuya doesn’t know.
With long, white, braided hair reaching to the man’s hips, loose strands falling on his face
and a pair of spiky cat ears turned to Chuuya. The man’s clothes are white with black, vertical
straps coming from the bottom of his kimono, slowly fading away in their colour before they
reach the top of it. He has a loose, dark material hanging from his left shoulder and… He’s
smiling at Chuuya.
Not a wicked grin, not a threatening smirk. Not even a fake welcome behind which hostility
hides its thorns. It’s just a smile, an amused, unnervingly honest smile. As if the man is
treating him like… a guest, like there’s nothing wrong with this situation.
Insane.
That person is insane, and most likely dangerous.
But, unwise as it may feel, the threat isn’t the first thing Chuuya finds himself considering,
no. It’s the way he got here, everything that was spoken before darkness covered his eyes and
—
—the betrayal.
Sigma played him, it was a trap.
Chuuya doesn’t know where he is, or what this other demon has planned, he doesn’t know
why he’s here, only that it can’t be good. His mind is a swirling mess of confusion and anger
and desperation, each emotion fueling a wave of a dozen others. He’s desperate to find an
answer, to understand why a person he considered his friend would do something like that.
Was Sigma forced to do it? Threatened?
Was it all planned?
Was it all a lie?
But more than anything, Chuuya is desperate to get away from here. Sigma is one thing, but
being around unknown yōkai, in an unknown place, without Dazai, sets off all and every
alarm bell in his mind, telling him that giving in to anger and seeking answers can end fatally.
His body, however, doesn’t listen. The pain in his knees is like a distant, numb echo, barely
strong enough to have the redhead feel it while his body is frozen still. It’s hard to focus, to
breathe, when all he can think of is—
He’s in a cave again. A cold and damp cave, so similar to Ace’s. He can see shadows that
aren’t there, lifeless silhouettes that haunt his memories, serpents slithering around him when
they’re not, blood pooling at his knees when there is no one there to bleed. A young boy’s
broken and hollow laugh rings in Chuuya’s ears, the memory of eyes that have given up on
longing to be free, to feel human, coming back to him at one, together with the brokenhearted
screams…
No. Not again.
Never again, please don’t—
“I don’t understand.” The redhead whispers, trying to stay calm while a wave of nausea hits
him, making his insides twist. “I didn’t…” He was only trying to be nice to Sigma, to be his
friend. “Why?”
What did Chuuya do?
What was his mistake this time?
Sigma still refuses to look at him, only curing in on himself as the demon at his side pulls
him closer, wrapping his arms around the boy in a weirdly gentle manner.
“Because we need you, of course.” The cat chirps, innocently enthusiastic. “Why else?”
“Wh… what for?” Fighting with his own instincts and the fear he has worked so hard to lock
away in the past, Chuuya can only choke out so much. “Where are we?”
The cat hums, helping Sigma stand up and keeping his slightly trembling body from falling
back to the ground. “We’re somewhere far~” He helps the boy walk to the wall, letting him
lean on it securely before facing Chuuya again. “As for what we need from you…”
The white–haired man is light on his feet, taking a step forward with an elegant turn and
bowing at the waist towards Chuuya. A mock courtesy, or an amusing act, the redhead isn’t
sure.
“We need you to stop being you~”
…huh?
They need Chuuya to stop being… himself?
“Wha—” Chuuya’s eyes dart to Sigma, to the only person he knows, or he thought he knew,
looking for a clear explanation instead of this nonsense, but—
“Uh uh uh~” The cat demon leans into his view, smiling and as he points at himself. “You’re
talking to me now. Sigma–kun needs to rest for a bit~”
… Sigma needs to rest?
A tingle of rage, his own this time, teases Chuuya’s mind, his hands tightening into fists as he
grits his teeth. “Oh, really?” He hisses, hurt and anger mixing into one and overshadowing
the fears creeping inside his head. “And here I thought it was just another fucking LIE!”
Chuuya’s body is shaking, distant images flashing before his eyes and clouding his vision
with old pain as new torment seeps through the cracks of his barely kept composure. And
Sigma has the audacity to shiver at his words, as if he was the victim here, as if it was
Chuuya who hurt him, not the other way around.
“I… I didn’t lie.”
“How…” He can’t be serious, can he? “How dare you? Sigma, you—”
“That’s enough~” The cat demon chirps, an underlying firmness ringing through his
seemingly playfull voice. He moves forward, elegant and fast and—
It happens again.
Something black covers Chuuya’s vision, swallowing his whole body despite how the boy
tries to jump away from it, and the next second – he can feel cold stone against his back. He
wasn’t hit, nothing actually hurts, but he’s not sitting on the ground anymore and standing
next to the wall instead.
It feels like he disappeared and then was dropped somewhere else, his body manhandled like
a marionette by the spell. Another wave of nausea hits him, the shock and disorientation and
dizziness making it impossible to keep his balance. Chuuya is sure he’ll fall, slide down to
the ground under his tangled legs, but…
He doesn’t.
Because something is keeping his arms up.
He doesn’t need to look, the rattling sound and the sharp edges digging into his wrists are
enough of an indication – he’s chained to the wall by the wrists.
“What the—?” He doesn’t know how, or when, that happened, and it makes him panic, forget
about the anger for a moment in order to… “Get these off!”
But no amount of struggling seems to work. The chains won’t let go, no matter how much
force Chuuya puts into it, and trying to break free only leaves fresh bruises around his wrists.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The cat says, straightening out the dark material on his shoulder
again and walking away from Chuuya. “You need to stay still for this.” Then, he looks over
his shoulder, blinking innocently as his white tail sways right above the ground. “Don’t
struggle too much, okay? Sigma–kun will be sad if you’re hurt more than necessary~”
At that, Chuuya lets out a hysterical laugh, because you have got to be kidding him.
Sigma will be sad? About him being hurt, after he was the one who tricked him in the first
place? It has to be new heights of hypocrisy.
“Ah, so you don’t want me hurt, ‘Sigma–kun’?” The redhead’s voice trembles, his lips pulled
into a humourless smile, colder than the prison of the cave around them. “Do you want me to
die nice and quick, then, is that it?”
The other boy shakes his head, his hands fisted in the material of his kimono. “N–no.” Sigma
has no right to look as distressed at Chuuya’s words as he does now. He has no right to act as
if he cares, not anymore. “I don’t want you to die—”
“It sure feels like you do, though.”
The redhead can’t see a way out of this, but he refuses to let that thought sink in. He refuses
to acknowledge how this may be the end for him, how he can’t do anything about any of this
other than wait and hope for a miracle. If anger numbs the pain, he’ll go for it. If confronting
Sigma helps him ignore the hissed out whispers of the shadows his mind sees all around him,
he’ll make his words as sharp as he can, and he’ll make them strike right where it hurts most.
“Too tired to put more effort into your lies? To make it believable?”
But all of that, it comes at a price.
His words are meant for Sigma, they are meant to hurt him and they do, from the looks of it
anyway, but Chuuya isn’t as unaffected as he tries to appear. Listening to himself isn’t as easy
as he wishes it would be, seeing Sigma hurt and holding back tears isn’t as satisfying as it
should be, because a part of Chuuya can’t let go of the image of a friend he has had in his
mind until now. Of a shy boy selling him supplies, of an enthusiastic and kind student, who
shares Chuuya’s passions.
…although, were they ever actually that? Friends?
Was there any truth to this act?
“Too tired to pretend like you care?”
“Chuuya–san, please—”
“I said enough—”
“Why?” Chuuya cuts them both off, pulling at the chains in a desperate and futile attempt at
getting away. If the cat needs him, for whatever it is, he won’t try to hurt him just for his
words, and in that case… “Why did you do it?”
It comes out weaker than the redhead would like to, but his strength is slowly leaving him by
the second. It’s exhausting to keep himself from breaking down, from succumbing into panic
and letting the demons locked away in the darkest corners of his heart take over. It’s
exhausting to fight when you know you can’t win, when an old, broken part of your mind
wants to give up.
“I…”
For once, Sigma doesn’t look away, even as a lone tear falls down his cheek. His voice is
barely a whisper, a silent apology that rings too close to honesty—
“I told you I’d do anything for them.”
—but with no regret in it.
And Chuuya loathes it.
He hates Sigma for looking so miserable, for making it so much harder to blame him when he
did, in fact, say that. He hates the cat demon for the gentle gestures towards the other boy and
his wicked word games, and the affection he doesn’t care to hide, even in front of the
redhead. Chuuya hates himself for getting tricked, for allowing all of this to happen when
his…
Dazai.
Dazai was there. Dazai felt his distress and came for him, and he should be able to sense
Chuuya even now, he should be able to find him, so why—
“What…” The redhead looks up at his right arm, at the material covering it, and his heart
sinks. It’s the same arm where their bond wraps its long mark around Chuuya. “What did you
do?”
Why isn’t Dazai here?
Sigma wraps his arms around himself and looks at the ground, while the cat at his side only
hums. “I cut him off?” The demon says, oh, so simply.
He…
“No.” Chuuya chokes out, trying to free his right arm and ignoring the sharp sting of pain at
his wrist every time he yanks his hand and the chains dig into it. “No! Take it off—!”
“Ah, don’t worry, it’s not permanent~”
“TAKE IT O—”
“My, my. Aren’t you a lively, little human, hm?”
Chuuya freezes. He doesn’t recognise this voice and, whoever it is, it doesn’t seem like
they’re trying to scare him, but…
But there is something in that voice that makes it impossible to move. Something Chuuya
experienced once before, back when he thought he was dying, back when a single red eye
stared at him from the shadows of an unfamiliar room while a playful voice enveloped all his
senses—
Danger.
And undisguised power.
It’s nothing like the imposing aura Ace tried to display when Ryuu was fighting him, no. This
is effortless, like the way Dazai played with him when they met for the first time, like this
person isn’t even thinking about what their presence and an eerily calm voice do to Chuuya.
Maybe they aren’t.
Maybe it’s not important to them, only to Chuuya.

His heart stills, his breath hitching as a cold shiver runs down his spine when that voice rings
again…
“Well done, Sigma–kun.” It’s getting closer, accompanied by slow footsteps echoing inside
the cave. “You and Nikolai can wait outside.”
“Fantastic idea!” The cat, Nikolai, claps his hands. “Let’s go, Sigma–kun~” But Chuuya
doesn’t look at the other two anymore, he doesn’t see it if Sigma hesitates before following
the man outside, because his gaze doesn’t dare to leave the third person that’s here.
A tall man with shining, red eyes staring at Chuuya from the shadows cast by the black
strands falling on his face, with fox ears peeking out of his hair and nine black tails behind his
back. He wears a polite, yet amused, smile, like a predator admiring the prey that has fallen
into his trap before sinking its fangs into it and devouring it alive.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Chuuya–kun.”
The kitsune walks closer, stopping a few steps away from the wall where Chuuya is chained
to. He’s not even that close, but the redhead feels cornered by his presence alone,
unconsciously pressing his back to the cold stone in an attempt to get away – futile.
“Forgive me for being late to congratulate you on your marriage.” The man says, as if it was
a normal conversation taking place in normal circumstances, and not like this. “I hope Dazai
has been treating you well.”
He knows Dazai.
Of course, he does.
That cannot be good, it never is.
Chuuya swallows dryly, not saying anything, but only looking into the red eyes that seem to
grow more and more satisfied with every second silently passing by.
“I must admit.” The fox continues, tilting his head and looking the boy over. “I was quite
surprised when I first heard about you.”
Yet another thing that screams trouble, alarm bells going off in Chuuya’s mind. Does this
person mean the wedding, the relationship with Dazai or… something else? And just how did
he hear about him? How does he know him and what does he know?
“Who are you?” The redhead chokes out, his throat tight and his heart racing with the need to
stay as far from this fox as possible. It’s his instincts, his gut telling him that every polie
gesture, every lightly spoken word – all of it is merely a trap, a way to make Chuuya let his
guard down.
“Ah, did your husband not mention me?” A chuckle. “I suppose he wouldn’t.”
Why would he?

Why not?
Who is he—
“Fyodor Dostoevsky.” The kitsune grins, his tails stretched into a dark halo behind him. “You
could say me and your beloved are… acquaintances of sorts.”
Why does it feel like there is a hidden meaning behind it? A story yet to be told? A story
Chuuya isn’t sure he wants to uncover?
Whatever it is, it’s not helping him.
“Is…” He needs to calm down, fast, he needs a plan. “Is that why I’m here? Like this?” He
shakes his right hand, or tries to at least, and by the quiet rattling sound, it must have barely
moved at all. “Because you two have history?” Where Chuuya gets the courage to bite back
and sound somewhat challenging is beyond him, but he’ll be damned if lets Fyodor play with
him like a helpless and terrified child. He may be scared, but he’s not a coward.
Whether it’s a reasonable thing to do or not, though, is a completely different matter.
The kitsune’s grin stretches, pleased. “Not exactly.”
If he’s going to say the same thing as that cat, Chuuya will scream from frustration—
“We’re here to test whether your five blessings are enough to keep you from dying, or not.”
…no.
“Or for how long, at least.”
No.
Chuuya doesn’t care how this person knows about his blessings, he doesn’t care that Fyodor
is a demon, or that, as a human, Chuuya doesn’t stand a chance against him. None of it
matters to him now. But he can’t die. He won’t.
Not like this, not here, not so soon.
If he had been calmer, Chuuya would have probably found it funny how he’s driven not by
the survival instincts, but by the desire not to leave Dazai, not to leave the life they have
together. They haven’t had enough yet, there’s still so much to do, to say, and the idea of
losing that is terrifying. Because it was all too real from the very beginning, from the very
first time Chuuya realised his feelings. Coming to terms with the fact that he’ll grow old and,
well, pass away one day while Dazai won’t… It was hard.
Even until now, Chuuya hasn’t entirely made his peace with that idea. He didn’t think he
needed to, and now, because of a single mistake, everything is being cut short. Chuuya can’t
accept it, he can’t allow it, he—
He doesn’t want it.
He wants to go home, to Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings, he wants to spend more time
with them and his family. He wants to see their smiles, hear their laughs, he wants to kiss
Dazai and feel his arms around him, tell him how much he loves him. But, instead, all he sees
is the unfamiliar red of Fyodor’s eyes.
There’s ringing in his ears, thorns in his throat and poisonous ivy in his lungs. He’s so cold all
of a sudden, every heartbeat knocking the breath out of him and—
’I’ll come for you.’ A voice reaches him. ’I swear.’
It’s less than a whisper – distant and fading away before Chuuya can hold onto it – but it’s
everything he needs, the one thread keeping him from falling into this pit of despair he’s
hanging over. Dazai is out there, searching for him – a part of his soul is still with Chuuya,
here, always. He’s going to help him, they’ll be together again and the redhead will
apologise, and they’re going to be fine. That thought alone is enough to loosen the knots in
his throat, making breathing easier and clearing his mind of the shadows the boy has grown
too familiar with.
It’s not the end, it’s not the time to give in to distress and give up—
“You…” Chuuya’s lips tremble with effort as the boy tries to curl them into a smirk. “...are
awfully well informed, huh?”
—it’s time to stall.
He’s not sure if it’s his acting, or how it contradicts the way Chuuya has to force his body not
to shiver under the kitsune’s gaze, but Fyodor looks amused at that. Intrigued, even.
“I have my sources.” He says, closely watching Chuuya’s every reaction.
“Too lazy to come and ask directly?”
Fyodor’s eyes narrow, his tails unnaturally still, but his smirk doesn’t falter. “I am here now,
aren’t I?”
“I’m honoured.” The redhead shakes his hands, chains’ rattling echoing inside the cave. “But
isn’t that overdoing it a little? For a simple human?”
“Would you like me to underestimate you?”

Usually, no.
Right now? It could help.
But before Chuuya’s mind can come up with a response, the fox speaks up again, his voice
coloured with a dark chuckle. “I can see why Dazai would decide to keep you. You’re truly
something, Chuuya–kun.” He takes a step forward and Chuuya involuntarily presses harder
into the stone wall behind him, lips pressed into a thin line. “But I’m afraid buying time for
your husband won’t help you here.”
Fuck.
He knows.
His thoughts must be showing on his face, because Fyodor’s eyes fill with amused and
satisfied sparkles. “Of course I know, ‘simple human’.” And now that the kitsune is using
Chuuya’s own words to mock him, the redhead’s defiance mixes with irritation, fueling his
competitive and stubborn side.
“He’ll come here.” The boy grits, putting all of his will–power into making it sound like a
threat, rather than a simple statement, or even a plea. “And you will regret it.”
“Your faith in him is admirable, even if equally as desperate.”
“I know he’ll—”
“Because of your marriage and that little bond?” Fyodor’s ears flicker as he gestures to
Chuuya’s arm with his head. “The one I had muted for that exact reason?”
But it’s not completely gone.
It’s not all just silence.
Chuuya glares at the fox. “You’re underestimating him.”
“Believe me, Chuuya–kun, I would never.” And it sounds oddly… honest? One of Fyodor’s
tails stirring uncomfortably. “I’m quite certain Dazai will find this place, sooner or later.”
Then why…?
“Unlike you, however, I’m also certain it’ll be too late by then.” The kitsune waves his hand
in a lazy manner, dismissive. “Do you know how many different dimensions and worlds there
are out there, human?”
…a lot, most likely. Chuuya has never cared enough to ask, it doesn’t matter.
“Because even I don’t know that, and your beloved will have to search through all of them
one by one to find you.”
Okay, so maybe it does matter.

And maybe Chuuya is losing the last remains of hope he can cling onto as anger gives way to
fear once again. Swallowing around the thorns in his throat, the redhead fights to keep his
voice levelled. “I don’t know why you’re doing this.” Nor does he care, right now. “But I’m
sure we can talk it out.”
Somehow, Fyodor’s grin softens. It loses its amused sharpness, settling on a smirk that, while
not comforting and nowhere near friendly, isn’t as dark as it was before.
Is it pity? Or maybe the fox is losing interest in toying with him?
“No, I’m afraid we can’t.” Whatever the reason, he doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even seem to
consider the option of letting Chuuya free. “Do not misunderstand, human, I hold no personal
grudges towards you, and the affairs between me and your husband were resolved a long time
ago.”
For a moment, his gaze falls on the material covering Chuuya’s arm, not piercing but
contemplative.
“I find your relationship intriguing, in a way, but nothing more.”
It feels like he’s giving Chuuya false hope, messing with his head with all the contradictions
and half–truths while also sounding too sincere. If he’s telling the truth, if it’s not personal—
“Why do this, then?” The boy breathes out, panic slowly taking over with how none of it
makes any sense. “Why go through all the trouble?”
Why use Sigma and orchestrate a friendship that was never meant to be?
Fyodor doesn’t answer right away. Instead, the fox seems to consider his answer – or whether
he actually wants to answer it, or not. His expression is unreadable, eyes turning a dark shade
of purple as they look somewhere past Chuuya.
Past the present and into what has already passed.
But it only lasts a second before it’s gone, replaced by the cold walls and nonchalant masks
once more.
“To pay my debt to that person back.”
…huh?
There’s someone else? Even now?
“What do y—”
“Gods’ blessings can be remarkable. I’m sure you would agree, right?” The fox ignores him,
walking around seemingly without a reason. “But in most cases, they’re also useless. They let
humans see what they shouldn’t, but they don’t protect them from it. They don’t extend your
short, mortal lives, or give you any powers to defend yourself against your enemies, or
against time.”
Honestly, Chuuya hasn’t really thought about it like this. He was never the one to ask for
more than was given to him. His blessings led him to Dazai, that’s all that has ever mattered
to him. Which makes it ever more confusing as to why Fyodor would be bringing that up.
“The only thing blessings are good for…” The fox continues. “...is keeping you alive when a
regular human would die in a matter of seconds.”
Like running around the forest after being shot in the stomach, but that’s a thought for later.
If there is a ‘later, of course’.
“So what?” Chuuya says, his breathing more erratic with Fyodor’s every word. The kitsune
hasn’t said anything too concerning, but Chuuya doesn’t like the direction this is heading
towards. “This person of yours needs some extra healing?”
And, of course, the answer he gets is the one he has prayed not to hear.
“Yes.” Fyodor says, tilting his head and looking back at Chuuya. “But not in the way you
think.”
Great. That doesn’t tell him anything.
“One blessing can save you from a deadly illness.” The kitsune says, walking back to
Chuuya. “Two can make a fatal wound treatable, if acted quickly, and five…” This time, the
fox stops much closer to him, forcing Chuuya to tilt his head back to keep eye–contact. “...
may be enough to withstand a force that would kill even the strongest demons.”
Chuuya pales.
‘May’ be enough, not will be.
And the part about the ‘strongest demon’? Trouble.
“...what do you mean?” The redhead hears himself ask.
Fyodor’s words are becoming a noise reaching Chuuya from over the deafening ringing in his
ears, over the loud pounding of his heart and all the instincts screaming in his head.
“What I mean is that blessings bestowed by gods hold a fraction of their own power.” As the
kitsune leans closer, Chuuya feels like he’s being thrown into a bath full of ice; fear he
doesn’t quite understand taking over his body. “Killing gods before their time borders on the
impossible.” He says, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “But becoming one? With your
help, it may just be within his reach.”
…no.
Chuuya doesn’t understand it, he has more questions than he has answers, but… no.
Becoming a god? It sounds insane and wrong, and something tells him they’re not asking for
his prayers, or words of encouragement. That would be too easy. Prayers wouldn’t test how
long he can stay alive. Prayers wouldn’t test how much pain Chuuya can take before his body
breaks.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Maybe if the kitsune sees just how absurd it is, he’ll stop. Maybe
all the redhead needs to do is plant a seed of doubt in him, long enough to wait for Dazai to
get here.
“Well.” Fyodor straightens up, shrugging. “Then I’ll let him know it failed, and he’ll look for
a different way.” His words are light, but there’s a shadow looming over them, somewhere
deep where Chuuya can’t see it. “My debt will be paid off either way.”
That’s a huge problem. If he doesn’t care about the outcome, if he doesn’t care about whether
Chuuya lives or dies… what other leverage is there to use? “Plea—”
“But enough of that.” Fyodor cuts him off.
Chuuya can feel his throat tightening, tears he refuses to let spill pooling at the corners of his
eyes. The kitsune reaches inside the sleeve of his kimono, taking something Chuuya can’t see
out as he turns around and starts walking away.
“It’s simple, really.” He says. “Raw power left behind by old gods is too potent for demons to
handle without sacrificing their lives, sanity, or both.”
Every word coming from Fyodor feeds the overwhelming fear and panic blooming in
Chuuya’s mind. But what really makes the redhead’s heart halt, what freezes his blood and
takes away his breath, is what the kitsune says next—
“So we need you to make it easier for him to digest before he can devour you.”
—and its implication.
If it means what Chuuya thinks it does, if the kitsune has the literal meaning of it in him, it
doesn’t matter whether he’ll survive this, or not, because even if he will – he’s going to die.
Only later, rather than sooner.
That single thought is enough to make him forget about stalling, about asking what all of this
means and who has planned it, who is this person taking away Chuuya’s happiness in search
of power. Every question is replaced by the suffocating terror and the feeling of…
Of being alone with it.
Even if Dazai is still somewhere there, somewhere inside Chuuya’s heart and soul – the
redhead can’t focus on it, he can’t cling onto it, not really. He can try, but it’s not enough. He
can reach for it, but his own fear is holding him back. The warmth he so desperately needs is
there, Chuuya knows it, but he can’t make it last, can't make it stay with him among the
cave’s shadows. His mind grows dark and cold, and it’s not letting him feel the hand trying to
soothe his pain, wipe the lone tear away from his cheek.
Because he can’t see it, can’t sense Dazai trying to comfort him from the other side.
Because all he can see are black tails and the looming shadow of his demise.
“For what it’s worth…”
Fyodor stops several metres away from him, half turning to Chuuya, and his face looks
achingly undisturbed. Calm, but not exactly satisfied. As if it’s a task he’s glad to be over
with, not a task he has wanted to fulfil.
“...I don’t enjoy doing this.”
And he smiles at Chuuya. It’s not a smirk, it’s not playful, it lacks the sharpness of someone
who has won. It feels almost… apologetic. But, somehow, Chuuya knows it’s not meant for
him, he can feel the fox’s guilt trying to reach someone else.
“I don’t enjoy making Sigma–kun sad.”
Blue eyes widen, Fyodor’s words barely register in his mind before the kitsune throws
something towards him.
It feels like time has slowed down, stretching seconds into hours in a brief moment that lasts
an eternity. Chuuya watches the gem draw a high arch in the air, he watches how Fyodor’s
silhouette is being swallowed by purple fire, and when the last flames fade away, leaving
Chuuya alone inside the cave—
The crystal hits the stone ground.
And shatters.
Chapter End Notes
Things~ will~ get~ complicated~ soon~
Ngl, I like writing things like that with a hint of mystery and suspense etc
POOR SIGMA THO (and Chuuya obviously, but we all know that) HE'S GOING TO
FEEL SO GUILTY T_T
Not Enough
Chapter Notes
“Are you okay?”
Leaning on the stone wall just by the entrance to the cave, Sigma lets his eyes fall shut for a
moment, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself. But it’s not so simple, how could it?
The image of Chuuya, scared and confused and betrayed, keeps on reappearing in his mind,
the redhead’s words echoing in his ears—
‘Why? Why? Why? Why?...’
“...I guess.” Sigma says eventually, looking up at Nikolai and offering him a weak smile.
“I’m just still not used to that spell of yours.”
There is no more of his usual playfulness left in the cat’s smile, or his eyes, only silent
understanding. He doesn’t tease the boy the way he would on any other occasion, his
expression is almost too unlike him – sane, with sympathy so tender it makes the boy’s guilt
grow even stronger. One of Nikolai’s hands supports Sigma’s arm, while the other comes to
his face, brushing his cheek with the back of his fingers…
“That’s not what I meant, sweet human.”
Sigma’s lips tremble, but he refuses to let his emotions get the better of him, he can’t. It was
his decision, breaking down after everything he has done would be like disrespecting
Chuuya, self–pitying himself while someone else may be suffering right now. Sigma still
does care about him, he treasures all the time they have spent together, it’s just… it’s not the
same as with Fyodor and Nikolai.
It’s not enough.
He cares enough to feel guilt, sorrow, to not want to appear like the victim here when he’s not
– but not enough to try and go against the plan. Because Chuuya is… was a friend, but the
other two are something more to him.
“I…” Sigma swallows dryly, leaning into the touch that grounds him and letting it soothe his
mind. “I’m better than Chuuya–san.”
Letting the boy hold onto his wrist, Nikolai watches the struggle on Sigma’s face, the fight to
keep his emotion hidden away until they fade, or consume him. It’s probably for the best, the
cat thinks, it’s too dangerous to let everything out here, when they don’t know how long
they’ll be safe for.
“You didn’t have to.” The demon murmurs, softening his voice to ease some of Sigma’s pain,
even if only for a moment. “We would not have blamed you if you had backed out.” It’s
sincere, painted with its own, distinct shade of guilt that would never be enough to change
anything, no matter how honest.
“...I know.”
His voice is shaky, a single thread of comfort from having Nikolai close keeping Sigma from
breaking down. He busies his mind with searching for what’s familiar to him, for what he
hasn’t seen in so long – the loose strands coming out of the long braid, the white tails
swaying above the ground – and it sparks a different kind of ache inside his chest, one that is
more welcome…
“I missed you.” The boy whispers. “Both of you.” Pushing away from the cold stone – or
maybe being gently pulled away from it – Sigma rests his forehead on Nikolai’s shoulder,
feeling the other’s hand rubbing slow circles on his back and his tail tickling his ankles.
“We know.” The cat’s lips brush his forehead, too warm and soft for the conflicting tremors
the boy hides within him right now. “But it’s over now—”
“Not yet.” Sigma’s eyes shoot open at the sound of Fyodor’s voice, darting to where it’s
coming from right next to them. “Our uninvited guests are on the way. They’ll be here soon.”
“Uninvited guests…?”
“Dazai and his hounds.”
Ah. Of course. Chuuya’s husband and his friends, his family. There’s no way they’d abandon
him. Gods, they must be so worried, they must be so angry and—
“Stay close to Nikolai.” Fyodor says when Sigma pulls away from the cat to look at him, a
faint hint of hope seeping into the concern painted on the boy’s face.
Grey eyes dart between the two of them. “I don’t want to be a bother, I can leave and…”
“No.” Both demons speak at the same time. The kitsune’s voice is calmer than Nikolai, it’s
not as close to falling into madness, but just as firm.
“You’re the safest here.” The cat sighs, settling back into his usual, playful demeanour. “We
can’t have them finding you when neither of us is around, and I can’t leave just yet, or the
spell sealing the cave will break. So don’t leave my side, okay, Sigma–kun~?”
Slowly, the boy nods. “...sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Then, something warm brushes Sigma’s cheek, startling the boy for a second before he
realises it’s one of Fyodor’s tails, wiping away a lone tear that escaped his eye without Sigma
noticing. But he’s never done that before. He would never…
The kitsune looks at him with an unreadable expression, purple eyes scanning his face as the
boy rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his kimono until he’s sure no more tears are left behind.
That one was enough. It was already too much, more than he should have been allowed –
more than he deserves.
“Don’t worry.” Fyodor says, looking away from the two and around the area surrounding
them. “It’ll be over soon.” One way or another.
“Will…” Sigma hesitates. “Will you be okay, Fyodor–sama?”
Sigma has never met this Dazai, but he knows the other kitsune is one of the few, if not the
only opponent Fyodor considers a threat. They’re both powerful and they are not on the best
terms, especially after today. It won’t be just a discussion between the two when the other fox
arrives here, it won’t be an argument – Sigma doesn’t need to have met Dazai to know he’s
out for blood, the fact that he’s a demon who had their beloved taken away is enough.
“It’s fine. I won’t let him harm you, or Nik—”
“Not that.” The boy shakes his head, his hands fisted in his kimono. “Will you be okay?”
For a brief second, Fyodor looks… surprised? His ears perk up, not so much eager as they are
confused, brows raised high behind the dark bangs as his eyes turn to Sigma again. For a
moment that doesn’t last, he seems caught off–guard, as if the boy said something he would
never anticipate, something he doesn’t quite understand.
“Of course.”
But then it’s gone. Replaced by the look Sigma has never seen on his face. It’s difficult to
decipher, but if the boy was to give it a name, he’d say Fyodor looks… melancholically
grateful.
Appreciative, yet with sadness lurking behind his eyes.
Like the calm sea after the storm, the peaceful remnants after the destruction.
“We’ll go home soon.” The fox assures him with a faint smile. “So stay safe until then.”
—around 5 years ago—
“Fyodor~”
Silence.
“Dos–kun?”
No answer.
“Dos–Dos? Fedya? Foxy? Darl—”

“What?”
Opening only one eye to look at Nikolai leaning over him, Fyodor is met with the brightest of
smiles and the sparkles he knows are a testimony of coming trouble. He’s seen them countless
times before, and he knows he’ll see them countless times more, but no matter how many
years passes – he has not and will not start to trust this kind of look on the bakeneko. In one
way or another, it always means trouble.
“Ah, I thought you were sleeping while still seated~” The cat beams all too innocently, sitting
down in front of him. The white ears stand high, twitching ever so often and the long tail
sways all too enthusiastically and happily behind him.
So… trouble, indeed.
“If you thought I was asleep.” Which he wasn’t. The kitsune was simply lost in thoughts and
trying to have a moment of peace for himself. “Why are you disturb—?”
Then, it reaches him. An unfamiliar scent, a new presence. Too weak to be a threat, too kind
to carry ill intent, but most of all…
“Nikolai.” Fyodor says, calm but demanding. “Why did you bring a human here?”
“Ah! That’s a very fun story~” The cat muses.” I didn’t~”
“Gogol—”
“It’s true!” The other chuckles, completely ignoring the look Fyodor is giving him. “He
followed me, and I simply let him. It’s not the same as bringing him here~”
Fyodor watches the way the cat’s ears perk up even more, satisfied and eager and explaining
nothing. “So you picked up a stray.” He says instead. “Why?” In general, the kitsune tries not
to interfere with what Nikolai chooses to do, not unless it concerns him directly – which it
does, now.
The cat hums, his tail falling on his lap lazily. “Because he’s funny, and weird.” His eyes
sparkle at some point, probably remembering something that has happened before coming
here. “And cute~”
Fyodor sighs, his tails still resting on the floor behind him, disinterested. “Nikolai, I don’t
care about your pastimes, but you can’t—”
“He’s not afraid.” The cat cuts him off, smirking and with new, intrigued sparkles in his eyes
that make the fox’s ears twitch involuntarily. It’s a simple statement and, yet, it’s also
traitorously fascinating, uncommon to say the least. “He’s not afraid, and I think he wants to
stay.” The cat tilts his head, flashing his feline fangs from behind a smirk. “Isn’t that
interesting?”
It’s weird, Fyodor can admit that much.

Naive as humans may be, their instincts towards yōkai usually agree with the nature of such
encounters. Fear, anger, hatred – those are all natural reactions for humans to feel when faced
with demons, even if a said demon has no ill intentions. That’s just how this world is built,
that’s what its rules are, and always have been.
As such, any human stepping inside these walls should be overcome with the desperate urge
to flee, to run as fast and as far away as they can, just because of Fyodor’s presence. In his
home, the kitsune doesn’t hide behind a veil suppressing his energy, he doesn’t hold back and
simply lets himself be free. Any other demon would see it as a sign that Fyodor feels at ease,
and that as long as they stay away, he shouldn't try to hunt them down.
But humans? Humans can’t distinguish emotions from a yōkai’s presence alone, they don’t
even understand what they’re sensing, or how. All a simple mortal can feel is danger hiding
close, a threat so openly manifesting it’s enough to reach their deepest, most primal survival
instincts. This close, the human should be going crazy with the need to escape, but if what
Nikolai says is true – and that’s a huge if, because the cat has a very… unique mind – then it
would mean this human is either desperate, or stupid, or both.
Or that he has a reason not to be scared, which is highly unlikely, but not completely
impossible, at least in theory.
“Come on~”
Nikolai must have gotten bored with waiting for an answer, because he unceremoniously
drops forward with a loud whine. His head lands on Fyodor’s lap, white ears tickling the fox
through the kimono, and he wraps his arms around the other’s hips.
“Go meet the boy. I want to keep him!”
Already feeling himself giving up to Nikolai’s tactics – simply because he knows what a pain
the cat will be if he refuses – Fyodor runs his fingers through the white hair, humming to
himself as if he’s considering it. “You can’t ‘keep’ a human.” A sigh. “He isn’t a familiar.”
The cat turns his head, one curious eye looking up at the fox. “What is it called, then? When I
want to keep him?”
What is it…? Well—
Now that Fyodor thinks about it, he isn’t sure.
What would humans call it these days? Sheltering a servant? Letting a guest stay until they
feel like it? What is this human to them, anyway? In the end, though, they both let the
question go unanswered, one deeming it unimportant and the other choosing not to dwell on
matters that are of no concern to him.
However reluctantly and not really that interested Fyodor does go to see the stranger waiting
in the main room of his otherwise empty house, if only to get the bakeneko to stop whining.
The boy looks young, soon to be turning 18 most likely, but true to Nikolai’s words – he isn’t
scared when the kitsune slides the door open. He’s not even startled, despite how there is no
way he could have heard Fyodor’s footsteps. Instead, the fox is met with a pair of deep, grey
eyes, a silver glint to them, looking up at him not with curiosity, not with confusion—
But with hope.
It’s beyond strange. In his long, long life, no human has ever looked like that at Fyodor. Even
demons, other than Nikolai and a very few others, prefer to avert their gaze from him, or
simply run away while they still can, and that’s when he’s in a good mood. This human,
however, doesn’t run, doesn’t even flinch under the fox’s stare. He sits upright, hands around
a cup with hot tea inside and waiting. The boy seems frail, his skin is pale and he must be
well underweight by the looks of it, he’s still shivering from the cold outside and, despite
how he tries to appear polite, the fox can see exhaustion rapidly overtaking the human.
…well, he’s not a threat. So what does it matter whether he stays or not? He’ll be Nikolai’s
responsibility.
Right?
And for a long time, that’s how it is.
Sigma works around the house despite never being explicitly asked to, and Fyodor rarely
ever sees, or meets, him after their first encounter. There’s no reason to seek the human more
than necessary, Nikolai does it for the both of them. Daily. In the blink of an eye, a full year
passes around them, merciless winter settling upon the world again.
…and Nikolai is away. Running an errand for the kitsune.
It’s not the first, or the last, time, nothing to think too deeply about, even if it is taking him
longer than expected.
As usual, Fyodor spends the day in his room, busying himself with rewriting different spells
to figure out whether it’s possible to extend the range of his powers. He hasn’t succeeded yet,
no one ever has, but it works well to kill some time and, as a kitsune, he has too much of it on
his hands anyway. He isn’t expecting the cat to be back for at least the next 3 days, but there
should be enough human ingredients stored away in the kitchen for Sigma to make himself
something to eat when he needs it.
Three days of peace and silence.
Three days of—
“...”
Fyodor looks up from his scroll, glancing at the door. His eyes narrow, considering the
feeling he’s getting all of a sudden. There’s only silence, he can sense Sigma outside, doing
one of the chores the boy likes to tend to, but that’s not the problem here. Or maybe, in a way,
it is.
The fox has never paid too much attention to humans before, not to their lives at least, but
having Sigma around forces him to be more aware of how they function, of the little things
they bring with them. Willingly or not, Fyodor has learnt to sense certain changes in the boy
and right now…
‘I may be wrong’, the kitsune thinks to himself.
He rarely misses, but there’s always a tiny chance, especially with Sigma, who is anything
but a regular human when it comes to his mind. It may be nothing, Fyodor may be
overthinking it because Nikolai isn’t here to dance around the boy…
However, after a while, the kitsune decides to check – it won’t hurt him in any way, only
make him take a break when he doesn’t necessarily need one. He stands up and heads
outside, icy wind hitting his skin and fur, though feeling like nothing more than a light tickle
while…
‘...or I may be right.’
Because now that he can take a look at the human, Sigma is definitely sick and on the verge
of collapsing onto the snow. His breathing is heavy, cheeks red and eyes struggling to stay
open… He does collapse, actually, but before his body can hit the cold, white blanket under
his feet, Fyodor catches him without making a sound. The boy looks passed out, unaware of
the whole situation and his state.
Why does this stubborn boy like to ignore his health despite being human, Fyodor shall never
understand.
He scoops Sigma up with a sigh and takes him inside, to the room the boy now occupies. The
kitsune isn’t an expert when it comes to human health, in the past he only ever cared about
ending such insignificant lives, but he’s not completely clueless, especially since it’s not the
first time Sigma is feeling unwell. It is the first time he collapses because of it, though. The
cruel weather is to be blamed for it, most likely.
All the previous times, it was always Nikolai who took care of him in such times, to a
ridiculous extent more often than not, but he’s not around right now. So… it’s just Fyodor.
Fortunately, by the looks of it, it’s simply a cold – a bad one, but a cold nevertheless. The fox
tucks Sigma in his futon the best he can and goes to get the medicine Nikolai stores for times
like this. It’s human medicine, but infused with a spell that helps with making the recovery
process faster without hurting the patient. Well, he could also just leave the boy alone to let
him sleep it off, he did say Sigma would be Nikolai’s responsibility, not his. Maybe he’ll do
that.
…after giving him the medicine.
And some water, too.
When he’s done – water and some snacks Fyodor found in the kitchen left by the futon’s side,
and a cold, wet cloth on Sigma’s forehead – the fox decides it enough. He doesn’t spare the
boy another look before turning around, ready to walk back to his own room and let the spell
do its wonders when—
When something stops him.
A hand, griping weakly at the hem of his kimono, a tug the fox can barely feel.
The kitsune looks over his shoulder, moving his tails so that they don’t obstruct his view of
the boy who, still feverish and probably delirious, looks up at him with half–lidded eyes and
a tired smile.
“Thank… you…”
It’s quiet, barely a whisper, and as soon as the words fall from his lips, Sigma’s fingers let go
of Fyodor’s kimono, falling to the ground as the boy passes out again. The slightest bit
surprised, the fox blinks – once, twice – he doubts the human knows what is going on, but…
His tails move Sigma’s hand back on the futon, under the comforter to keep it warm, and then
Fyodor leaves without uttering an answer.
There is no need to say anything back, the boy will most likely not remember any of this
once his fever goes down and the morning comes.
…right?
—present time—
“Why is it your spell that seals the cave?” Looking around the area and trying to focus on
anything other than feeling nervous, Sigma lets the question slip from his lips. “Isn’t Fyodor–
sama more…?”
“Powerful than me?” Nikolai chuckles, his tail swaying above grass next to where they’re
sitting. “Sigma–kun think I’m weak! I’m hurt!”
“Huh? No, I—”
“Just kidding~”
Maybe it’s because he’s trying to make Sigma relax, or help him distract his mind from what
is happening, but Nikolai’s tone is much lighter than the way his ears are straightened and
focused, always on high alert and picking up anything unusual around them – waiting for
something to happen.
“And he is, so you aren’t wrong.”
“Then why…?”
“Because he needs to focus~” The tip of Nikolai’s tail taps Sigma’s chest, right where his
heart is. “On the spell protecting your heart and mind from going insane.” He can see the boy
pressing his lips together as the thought of being a burden crosses his mind again, and he
adds… “But also to make it more difficult for them~ The sealing spell or the one on you
would falter if Fyodor was to get hurt, and the other fox will definitely try to do just that. In
my case, I only need to stay alive for the spell to hold.”
That, however, only makes Sigma worry more. “He’s going to get hurt, isn’t he? We should
—”
“Don’t worry~” Pulling Sigma close by the hand, Nikolai wraps his arms around the boy,
pressing him to his chest. “He’s a strong fox, he’ll be fine.”
“...what about us?”
The cat hums, his chin resting on top of Sigma’s head. “We don’t have to fight, only stay
close enough for me to keep the seal up. If anything happens, we run~”
“But what if their attack is faster than you? What if—”
“It’s okay~” His tone sings without worry. “I’ll protect you~” Then, after a second of
hesitation that doesn’t suit the cat at all, Nikolai adds… “And once I can’t anymore, I’ll send
you back to him, so don’t be scared, okay?”
But it is not Sigma's own safety that makes him scared. It’s theirs. Because even if the boy
doesn’t always look out for himself, he knows the other two do, no matter what. Be it loudly
and without holding back when it’s Nikolai, or quiet and never to be mentioned again when
it’s Fyodor – Sigma knows.
He remembers every single time, and now more than ever it comes crashing down on him
how helpless he is in all of this, how he can only hope it’s going to be fine.
It’s selfish, he knows. But, gods, he doesn’t want anyone to die today, here.
Any of them.
(...and deep down, somewhere he isn’t allowed to look anymore, it’s also Chuuya’s safety
that tugs at his heart weakly. Always there, no matter how many times Sigma tells himself he
doesn’t have the right to feel it.)
It’s like searching for a single drop of water in an ocean, for a single flower in a forest that
has no end. No matter how you look at it, it’s impossible, unreal, pointless—
But Gin has to try, she can’t give up.

Fyodor’s scent, or Sigma’s, or Chuuya’s, or the trails of Dazai’s presence on him – she
doesn’t need much, anything will do, as long as it guides her to where the redhead was taken
because of their carelessness. There was nothing fresh in their world, or in the one Gin went
to next, and there is nothing here as well. It takes a fraction of a second to search a vast area
when she’s looking for something very specific, but—
But whole worlds are big enough as it is, and they have nothing to go with except…
Right before black smoke can envelop her again, Gin stops, a distant voice reaching her ears
and picking her interest, stirring something inside of her mind. It’s not Chuuya, or Sigma, or
any other voice she can recognise – it’s not about who it is, it’s about what they’re saying.
It’s a cry. Unintelligible nonsense.
It sounds painful and desperate, then angry, then hysteric… it’s madness, similar to what she
remembers from Yosano’s clinic but amplified, as if whatever is driving everyone crazy is
closer.
…could it be…?
It’s not the best lead, it’s merely a hunch driven by desperation and the lack of anything else,
it’s the only thing Gin has right now.
It’s tricky, jumping between dimensions, especially when you don't know where exactly you
want to go, like tossing a pebble blindfolded without caring where it lands. You never know
where you’ll end up, or how far from where you started, but… If there’s something specific
linking the two worlds, even if it’s merely a collection of the strongest emotions from its
habitants, it is possible to create a way and follow it. It won’t be easy, nothing ever is, and
she’ll have to be very careful not to stray from the connection once she gets a hold of it, but it
may just work.
If she’s lucky, that is.
And if not… Well, then it’s up to Ryuu and Dazai. Up to Fate.
Focusing on the distant voice, on the storm of chaotic emotions violently rushing through it,
Gin tries to embed those feelings into her smoke, looking for the nearest dimension that
mirrors those sorrows, the next world that echoes the same insanity… and she finds it.
But Chuuya isn’t there. So she tries again.
And again, and again, and again, and again—
One world to another, several dimensions later Gin is surrounded by sorrows mixed with
hatred coming from all directions. It would seep into her mind as well if she wasn’t careful
enough to guard it, but she knows better – she may not know what she’s protecting herself
from, but she knows she has to do it and that’s enough. The next dimension is more quiet –
empty, even – without a single soul anywhere close to where Gin is. The girl is about to go
back, thinking she was led astray while rushing, but…
It’s weird.
There is no one and, yet, hatred vibrates through the air so strongly it makes her dizzy for a
second. She can’t sense Chuuya anywhere, but… she can sense a barrier, and it carries a
scent that’s like a signature of the one who cast it, which means—
It’s taking too long.
It has only been half an hour since Chuuya was taken, but it’s taking too long.
No matter where Dazai goes, no matter where he thinks Fyodor would set up his new lair –
he isn’t there, none of them is. The fox can feel the redhead through the bond, but he can’t
find him, he only knows his human is in danger and that something bad is happening. There’s
anger mixing with Dazai’s own rage, much fainter but all too painfully clear and growing
stronger with every second. The kitsune can feel desperation and fear coming from the other
side of the bond between them and it hurts not to be able to soothe it away.
Chuuya is putting up a fight, Dazai can sense it. Gods, how stubborn and brave his little
human can…
’Plea—’
Everything shifts in a heartbeat and Dazai stills. His eye is wide and brightly red, a low growl
escapes his throat as his blood starts to boil in the cold of his body. This isn’t fear anymore,
Chuuya is terrified. Suddenly, all Dazai can feel is freezing cold, a frantic struggle to get
away from something he doesn’t see, doesn’t know. The redhead’s emotions flood his mind,
his heart, and all the fox want to do is tear apart whoever is doing that to Chuuya, but—
He needs to stay calm.
He needs to help Chuuya stay calm.
Not wasting another second, Dazai continues the search, he continues looking through all the
places he thinks Fyodor may have chosen while also focusing on reaching the redhead.
Extending his presence as far as he can, making it as warm and gentle as possible in his
current state, Dazai imagines being there, holding Chuuya close, cupping his face and
whispering ‘it’s going to be okay’. Anything to let him know he’s coming, let him know it’s
going to be okay and that he isn’t alone. But it’s like a thick fog is separating them, like his
words and his presence can’t fully reach the boy. It feels as if Chuuya’s fear is cutting him
off, too focused on whatever his mind is faced with and—
…rustle…
There. The paper in his hand twists and burns, the spell written into it shines like fire and
Dazai can feel where it wants to lead him to.
Gin found them.
Chapter End Notes
So many POVs….. So many perspectives to tell………… So many reasons I can't spoil

just yet...............................................
Too Late
Chapter Notes
There.
Letting the talisman guide his flames to where Gin is, Dazai appears in a place he has never
been to before, in an unfamiliar dimension where the air seems to be trying to suffocate him,
unwelcoming. It may be this world’s natural animosity towards demons, or kitsunes, or it
could be someone’s spell targeting Dazai to slow him down, but he doesn’t pay it any
attention. He couldn’t care less about his own comfort when—
“You two get Chuuya.” He says, not sparing the Akutagawa siblings a single glance.
They don’t need his attention right now, the barrier standing in his way does. It’s stronger
than the joke of a flame border in Fyodor’s forest – that wasn’t meant to keep Dazai away
anymore, it was merely a pretence of putting up an act, and this one is. The moment his
flames faded and his presence settled into this world, the barrier shone brighter than before,
the energy embedded into it accumulating around the area near the kitsune. It was designed
specifically for him, made so that no matter where Dazai goes, the spell would follow and
thicken, always standing in his way.
But it can’t stop him.
“If the bakeneko or the human try anything, kill them.” Why is something telling him it
won’t be that easy? What is this feeling coming from the other side, unfamiliar and hostile?
What did Fyodor do? “But don’t try to fight Dostoevsky. You can’t win against him.”
Finding the weakest part of the barrier isn’t easy, especially within the accumulated energy
that follows Dazai’s every move, but the kitsune has dealt with worse in the past. One crack
in the spell is all he needs, one flaw that will make everything fall apart at his command, and
once he finds it – it’s over. All it takes is one tap of his nail on the bright surface before his
flames spread through it, burning out a passage just wide enough for the three of them to step
through, and not bothering about the rest of the barrier.
“Yes, Dazai–sama.” The two answer at once, disappearing from his sight as they head
towards…
Chuuya.
Finally, after what has felt like a lifetime of wandering around and finding himself lost
wherever he goes, Dazai can feel his human close by, together with the scents that make his
claws sharpen with rage. The human who dared to take Chuuya away, the cat who left the
spell, Fyodor and—
…what is that?
There’s a fifth scent, weird and dangerous and like nothing Dazai knows. It’s not a person,
it’s not alive, but it’s not a spell either, and it’s too far away to get a better taste. It’s muffled
by a different kind of spell, sealed somewhere far and impossible to grasp, but its presence is
concerning. All the hatred and rage, it resonates through air and tries to seep into Dazai’s
mind, fueling his already ferocious instincts and trying to set his mind ablaze until there’s no
sanity left in him. It’s not difficult to guard against it, the call of resentment is too faint and
weak to do any real damage, but… it could be fatal for a human, and it’s coming from the
same direction as Chuuya’s scent.
What is it? Where did Fyodor get it? What did he do to—
The kitsune pushes his thoughts away, calming his mind as he focuses on locating the place
he needs to get to. He’ll worry about all those questions after he makes sure the redhead is
safe, it would only be a waste of time now.
Once he finds where three out of five scents lead to, it barely takes a moment to get there, to
reach the edge of the unnaturally still forest and see the dark stone wall climbing high into
the sky. There’s an entrance to a cave there, seemingly open for anyone to simply stroll inside
if not for the traces of some kind of a seal all the way around its edges. It won’t be easy, of
course not, Dazai will need to focus if he wants to break it, but first—
“Ah, finally decided to join us?”
—first, he needs to get past Fyodor, and he’s fairly sure the fox isn’t going to make it easy for
him.
“We’ve been waiting for y—”
The other kitsune's words are cut off by the sudden explosion of blue flames around him, a
thin trail connecting them to where Dazai is standing. It’s more of a show of his rage and a
way to let his frustration out, rather than an actual attack, and they both know it. If his flames
were enough to hurt Fyodor, it would mean the black fox is weak, and no one weak would
ever be able to take away anything that is Dazai’s. With a single wave of Fyodor’s hand, the
flames are all gone, not a single burn, or dark smudge, left behind on the fox’s body or
clothes.
“How disappointing.” A sigh. “You’ve become even more rude than before, and here I
thought marriage would make you—”
“I’m not interested in what you think, Dostoevsky.” Dazai says with a stone cold voice and
an echo of a growl ringing through it. “Move.”
Fyodor grins, tilting his head. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Now.”
“I was hoping for ‘please’, actually.”

From the corner of his eye, Dazai can see Ryuu and Gin getting closer to the cave’s entrance,
their presence completely ignored by the other kitsune, who doesn’t even flinch when they
move behind him. Of course, Fyodor doesn’t think of them as a threat when Dazai is right
here, in front of him.
Baring his fangs in a grin darker than any of the Hells, Dazai takes a step forward. “From
me?”
He can see both Ryuu and Gin turning into their wolf form, sniffing around the entrance for a
second before running towards the forest again. They must be following the trail left behind
by the spell’s caster – good; kill the demon who left it, and the spell will disappear. That will
leave Dazai with…
“Have you gone mad, Dostoevsky?”
Fyodor quirks a brow, his expression unwavering even when one of his tails flinches. “Would
a madman be able to steal your little husband?” His tone isn’t moving, it’s not even the self–
assured and satisfied voice Dazai knows – it’s firm, but flat, teasing only with the words and
not with what hides beneath them.
Dazai holds back a growl, his whole body itching to leap forward and bite into the other’s
throat. “Only a madman would steal anything from me.”
Another step. The air around him vibrates with power and blue sparkles carrying a promise of
fire that will burn and burn and leave nothing behind.
“Now, get out of my way.”
But Fyodor doesn’t move, the only signs showing any reaction to Dazai’s threat are how his
eyes shine with red, watching the other’s every move, and his black tails straighten behind
him, ready for an attack. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He says. “Not yet.”
“Then you’ll die.”
“I wonder about that.” Looking around the trees’ crowns that are slowly being swallowed by
the blue flames, Fyodor lets his voice trail off. “You were never able to fulfil that promise
before.”
“Maybe I never truly tried to.”
Fyodor tilts his head. “Will you now, though? With how distracted you are?”
“Distracted or not, it’s you, who is playing with fire you can’t beat.”
“Maybe, but I wonder which one is more powerful: your desire to help your human, or to kill
me.”
Dazai’s fangs flash from behind his lips, a cold promise. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”
But just as the kitsune is about to leap forward, he stops, shocked and confused as a wave of
dizziness washes over his mind. He’s met with Fyodor’s calculating eyes and focused
expression, with not even the smallest hint of hesitation, but with a barely visible shadow of
something that seems like pity. But it can’t be, Fyodor doesn’t know compassion and Dazai
doesn’t care for it.
“...I guess we will.”
The white fox brings his hand to his face, brushing the skin under his nose and across his lips,
and when he looks at his fingers—
Blood.
He’s not hurt in any way and Fyodor hasn’t done anything to him yet, which means—
This isn’t Dazai’s pain that shoots straight through him.
It’s Chuuya’s.
Following the trail is easy.
Maybe the bakeneko didn’t think of concealing his scent, or maybe he didn’t know how to do
it, but Ryuu doesn’t care, it doesn’t make a difference. He knows where his target is and he
knows the cat isn’t alone there. The human – the one that played so kind and caring for all
those months, the one that tricked them – is with him, and his fear settles into Ryuu’s lungs,
filling the wolf with raw anger.
The call of revenge, of blood, rings loud in his mind like a dark chorus, and he knows Gin
feels the same. The ache in his fangs, the way his claws sharpen and a fire rages inside his
chest… It’s been a long time since Ryuu last felt like this pull of his darker, more primal part,
since the last time he wanted to fight, to kill. Even Ace didn’t make him feel like this, the
snake was like a nuisance, a pest unworthy of anything other than disgust.
But Sigma? The bakeneko?
They have his anger. Pure, untainted, raging in pair with Gin’s murderous aura.
They’ve taken someone the Akutagawa siblings consider a friend, someone who is like
family to them, and they will not hold back. Even if in the back of his head, Ryuu can see
Atsushi’s face, hear him say that killing someone isn’t the answer – but it doesn’t matter, not
now. The tiger may be sad, torn even, but he accepts who Ryuu is and he won’t judge him for
anything he does when it’s with a reason behind it.
And really, it’s up to Sigma and the cat. To give up and live, or to fight and be killed.
…or so Ryuu thought.
But the moment he sees the two figures in the distance, a familiar cascade of white and lilac
hair blowing in the delicate wind, he and Gin leap forward with their fangs bared and… they
never taste blood. Because Sigma and the cat are gone.
They ran away faster than the siblings could catch them.
Not too far from the smell of it, but if the bakeneko is able to escape this fast, it means
catching them won’t be as easy as Ryuu thought. It means they’ll have to tire him down,
make the cat play the mouse and run around over and over again until its strength leaves him
and he gets sloppy, and it will take time.
…so be it.
The decades of training under Dazai and Kouyou weren’t for nothing, and no matter how
well prepared for this the bakeneko may be – he needs to be careful not to hurt someone he
keeps with him and protects, while the Akutagawa siblings are free to do anything they wish.
And they will, even if it means attacking someone who can’t fight back, someone who is
helpless when facing a demon. When it’s a choice between escaping and Sigma’s throat being
ripped out, the bakeneko will leave himself open, and the siblings need only a second for
their claws to reach him. One inflicted wound after another, blood loss slowing the cat down,
making his moves predictable—
Allowing Ryuu and Gin to lure him into the right corner, right where they need him to be.
“Nikolai!”
Sigma falls down on the ground, pushed to the side by the other man a second before two
black wolves leap at them, claws and fangs bared with every intention to rip their bodies
apart. There is no hesitation in their attacks, they aren’t trying to capture them – the wolves
are here to kill.
They’re more focused on Nikolai than on Sigma, or at least they were in the beginning, only
treating the human as an additional casualty, or an extra bother. But that changed the moment
they saw Nikolai was set on protecting Sigma, rather than himself, the moment they realised
they could use him to get the cat.
And Sigma hates it. All of it.
He knows Nikolai needs to stay no further than a certain distance from the cave, he knows
there is nothing he can do to help the demon, or at least to stop being a burden. But most of
all—
Sigma hates how he/ understands the Akutagawas. How he knows why they’re doing this
and how he can’t blame them, how he knows he’s not allowed to plead for them to stop
because he doesn’t deserve their compassion. Neither does Nikolai.
Sigma picked a side, knowing what it meant, knowing what the consequences would be.
He won’t ask for forgiveness, there’s no point in doing so. But he’s only human and seeing
his family fight for their life hurts, being unable to do anything other than stare and pray for
Nikolai to be okay is terrifying. They brought it upon themselves, which is why Sigma
doesn’t beg the Akutagawa siblings for anything. But he can’t and he won’t be quietly
watching his loved ones die right in front of him.
“Nik—!” His voice dies in his throat when a black material envelops him out of nowhere, an
arm pulling him closer.
The sudden change of place doesn’t affect the boy anymore; most of their ‘fight’ with the
wolves consists of the two of them disappearing out of their sight and reappearing
somewhere far, a never–ending circle of running away and hoping to stay alive long enough
for everything to be over. The bakeneko can’t fight both of them while also protecting Sigma;
there is no way he can win in a fight with demons that are out for blood, not for simple
victory. But using the spell over and over again is taking a toll on Nikolai, and the siblings
are fast, always finding them in no time.
Now – like this, with their bodies pressed together – Sigma can feel the cat’s heavy breathing,
his fatigue and—
“You’re hurt!”
There is blood streaming down Nikolai’s face and neck, flowing out of his closed, right eye.
His left eye is barely open, the blood from the wound left across it by one of the wolves
making his vision blurry with red. His clothes are ripped and slightly burnt in several places,
and Sigma fears to find even more severe wounds underneath them.
“It’s nothing.” The cat offers him a smile while scanning the area around them. “I’m just a bit
tired~”
“But you’re bleeding!” Sigma’s voice is trembling, his mind a mess of frantic emotions.
They have to run, they have to stay until it’s done, they have to hide, they have to treat
Nikolai’s injuries before it’s too late—
“I’ll be fine.” He sounds on the verge of passing out. What if he won’t be fine?!
“You can’t!” Sigma cries out, uncaring about the small scratches over his own body. “You
can’t continue like this, we need to get away—!”
“Not yet.” Nikolai cuts him off, focusing on their surroundings and the sounds coming from
every direction. His expression is more serious, more tired than it was mere minutes before,
and Sigma can see how the cat struggles to stay awake. “Not until it’s done.”
“But you need help!”
“Don’t worry, sweet human.” He offers the boy a smile so gentle it makes Sigma’s heart
ache. “Two opponents at once won’t be the end of me, it’s just a bit… tiring.”
A growl comes from behind Sigma, dry branches breaking under the wolf’s steps. Another
one appears on his right, silent but with equally murderous eyes set straight on them. Then,
there’s a new sound to the left – also a growl, but fainter, and with no steps accompanying it,
as if it’s not an animal, but a spirit without a physical body, only dark smoke—
“Ah.”
Nikolai’s lips twitch at the corners as he presses Sigma tighter against his chest, and the boy
can sense how tense the cat gets, how fast his heartbeat gets.
“But three of them may be a bit of a problem.”
Chuuya watches as the crystal shatters on the ground, small pieces scattered around in a small
circle – the moment it breaks, the cold air inside the cave starts burning. It’s suffocating,
forcing itself into Chuuya’s throat and making it like every breath is letting fire settle deeper
into his lungs. But the boy doesn’t look away from the crystal’s scattered remains, or rather
from something that was set free when it shattered. It’s impossible to look away from it, the
redhead’s gaze is drawn to it the same way prey can’t look away from the predator coming
closer, from danger.
At first, the redhead thinks it’s a flame – small and flickering around the broken pieces in a
chaotic dance – but the longer Chuuya looks at it, the less sense it makes. Why isn’t it fading
away? What is fueling it and how in the world did anyone imprison it in a gem?
But then, it grows.
It’s different from the simple fires Chuuya has seen before that stretch their arms higher and
higher, reaching for the sky they could never meet. It’s more like liquid flames swirling
around inside an invisible vortex, like blood with a mind of its own. It’s lighter than melted
rock, heavier than a river’s fierce waters, sliding right above the ground in slow patterns as if
searching for something—
And then it moves closer.
Like a serpent lazily slithering on the ground, like a spilled liquid slowly flowing towards
Chuuya, as if it could sense him close. There’s a hiss– or sizzling–like sound coming from it,
accompanied by fire crackling and quiet noises of a hundred low whispers. It’s nothing like
an animal’s sound, or human’s, it’s not like anything Chuuya knows. It crawls into his mind,
messing with his thoughts and driving the boy into giving in to panic…
“No, no, no, no, no—”
Not caring about the pain, the redhead starts struggling against the chains, pulling at them
and trying to slide his arms out of their hold. It’s frantic and futile, bruises forming around his
wrists as his breathing becomes erratic. He tries to get as far away from that thing as
possible, but he can’t move, not really, and it’s getting closer by the second. The burning gets
hotter and the blood–freezing sounds louder.
“Stay away—!”
Maybe it’s illogical to be talking to… whatever it is, but Chuuya isn’t thinking straight
anymore. He’s desperate as he tries to at least move his feet away from it, or pull himself up
on the chain if he can’t get rid of them, driven by the primal survival instincts screaming at
him to run, to escape. Anything.
…but it doesn’t work.
The moment it touches his leg, Chuuya lets out a choked cry. It burns, barely on the edge of
being bearable without him screaming in agony. The boy writhes, trying to get it off, but the
liquid flame only climbs higher up his body, wrapping its fiery arms around Chuuya’s body
as pain creeps into every inch of his being.
This can’t be happening. Dazai said he’d come for him, he said he’d always come for him, so
why—
Blue eyes watch with terror how this thing sets his body on fire without burning it to ashes,
leaving him handing on the pain that never lets go, never subdues. They watch how
untouched his skin appears despite feeling like it’s being stripped off of him. By the time it
reaches his chest, Chuuya is thrashing against the wall without thinking, screaming into the
dark void of the cave…
“Get away, get away, get away!”
There are tears falling from his eyes, from both fear and pain taking over his mind. The last
coherent thought left is of Dazai, of a promise to never let him go, to find and help him.
“Daz—!”
But the words die in his throat when the flame cuts the skin over Chuuya’s heart and starts
flowing inside as blood trails down the boy’s torso.
It hurts.
His insides are being set on fire, his blood actually boils in his veins and—
It’s too much.
This thing is tearing his chest apart, pushing inside and crushing his organs while waves after
waves of blood flow out of the wound, uncontrollable screams filling the cave with their
agony.
It hurts.
Chuuya can’t breathe, he can’t move, or not even blink without pain shooting through his
entire body. He doesn’t know if he’s screaming, or crying, or dying, or all of it at once.
It hurts!
But the worst comes a heartbeat later, when Chuuya can feel this thing pushing not only
inside his body, but also inside his soul, where it doesn’t belong. It’s nothing like with Dazai
during their wedding, that felt like a part of him had been taken from him and then replaced
by something that fits, something warm and gentle, sating the longing Chuuya hadn’t realised
was there before.
But this?
This is forcing its way into where there is no space left, into a part of Chuuya that can’t bleed
out, can’t be ripped to shreds—
It can only be crushed.
And it HURTS!
It’s too much, he can’t do it, IT’S TOO MUCH!
It feels like his head is being split open and set on fire, he can feel his veins tearing and his
bones breaking inside his body, one by one. Chuuya’s head falls forward as he’s fighting for
his breath and throwing up blood that pools at his feet. And there is so much of it,
everywhere. It flows from the wound on his chest, from his mouth and nose and ears and eyes
—
His own skin feels like prison, like it’s not enough. Chuuya wants to shred it to pieces, wants
it gone if it means it’ll stop this thing from crushing him from the inside, if it means there
will be enough space to make it stop.
He doesn’t feel like himself anymore. Whatever it is, it fills his head with violence, with the
storm of pain and rage and hatred. Chuuya is being pushed to the side, to the very edges of
his own consciousness as the flames take over, as they break everything.
His mind.
His being.
A storm destroying everything in its wake, throwing Chuuya’s soul into chaos that it so loves
– it’s blindly violent, it doesn’t care whether the boy lives or dies, it doesn’t notice his scream
or hear his begging. Every fibre of him must be torn into shreds, every vein burnt to a crisp
and every thought corrupted with hate, hate, hate—
IT HURTS!
Another wave of nausea rocks his body, more blood falling from his mouth, but Chuuya
barely sees it anymore. He can only focus on pain, on wanting it to stop, no matter how. His
body twists and trembles on its own, hanging freely from where the chains hold his arms up
until there is no more strength left to keep fighting. His legs can’t support him while his
bones are being crushed on the inside, cutting through his veins and muscles.
IT HURTS!
No matter how much blood he throws up, it’s not enough, that thing wants more. Of
everything. It’s not words, but beastial screams pounding inside his head. His body isn’t
enough, it can’t hold it, and so his skin rips, blood trailing down from every cut and tear,
covering his entire body.
Chains. Pain. Stone. Pain. Make it stop.
Where is he?
Pain. Air. Pain. Make it stop.
Where is he?
Pain. Pain. Pain—
MAKE IT STOP!
“Da…”
MAKE IT STOP!
“...zai.”
PLEASE JUST KILL ME!
Chapter End Notes
...............................well.
SKK reunion soon :D

(Almost) Safe
Chapter Notes
Blood.
His blood, but not his pain. It’s not his suffering that is stronger than the spells and the
distance separating them, creeping into Dazai’s soul and body through the bond connecting
them with newfound violence.
For a heartbeat, Dazai’s rage is replaced with shock, then with suffocating terror at the
thought of what could possibly have caused it—
And then with even more fury.
The kind that clouds his mind, makes the images of calm and peace fade, and brings back
what Dazai willingly sealed away deep in his memory. The kind that remembers the times
when he enjoyed leaving behind a trail full of blood and corpses, when screams of agony
were like music to his ears, and so—
Fyodor just barely avoids the claws aimed at his throat when Dazai leaps at him without
hesitation, or a warning. The air around them crackles with flame sparks of both blue and
purple, opposite fires aimed at each other and exploding between the two kitsunes, sending
them both backwards. But before Fyodor can steady himself on the ground, several dagger–
shaped flames fly towards him from the dark aloud left behind by the previous explosion.
Bloodlust more intense than anything else.
An attack after an attack.
Over and over and over again—
“So eager.” Fyodor jumps to the side, avoiding Dazai’s claws and tails but feeling their ghost
on himself as pressured air fans over his skin. “Were you not getting enough exercise lately?”
“Were you not getting burnt alive enough recently?” Dazai ‘s voice is cold, but his eye burns
with crimson as he eyes the other fox.
“Your flames are still yet to reach me, dear old friend.”
“Is that so?”
Another leap, faster than before. Fyodor can’t see or hear it, only his experience of battling
Dazai in the past saving him from losing an eye when the fox’s claws graze his face, the ends
of his hair briefly catching on fire before he jumps away.
“And we are not friends, Dostoevsky.”

Blood flows down Fyodor’s cheek from a cut left by the other kitsune, warm on his skin and
a reminder of what could have happened if he was even a fraction of a second slower, if
Dazai’s claws had reached him and claimed his eye. “Ironic.” He says, going for Dazai’s
throat before the other fox attacks again. “I said the same thing not too long ago.”
Dazai grabs his arm before the other’s claws can cut his skin, ready to rip Fyodor’s arm off—
But he doesn’t get a chance. At the same time as he thinks of it, black tails fly to his stomach
and sides, forcing him to let go and jump away if he doesn’t want them to pierce straight
through him.
“You’re contradicting yourself.” Dazai straightens up, observing the other’s stance. “You
send a rotten snake after my human and, after that pest fails, you steal him yourself.” A growl
paints his voice. “Why?”
Why is Fyodor barely attacking? Focusing only on sparring Dazai’s attacks?
The other kitsune tilts his head, fangs flashing from behind his smirk. “Have I ever
mentioned using a snake to mess with either of you?”
“I don’t need you to. I know you.”
Why is he standing in his way when he doesn’t try to actually fight, only defend himself?
What is going on here?
It doesn’t feel like any of Fyodor’s schemes from the past, it’s not his style to be this open
about his plans and, yet, also be this passive about executing them.
“I wonder about that.” The dark fox mutters.
…doesn’t matter. Not now.
They don’t have time for this.
Another burst of blue fire shoots from Dazai’s tails and at Fyodor. Even if they aren’t enough
to hurt the other fox, they can still tire him out, slow his movement down and conceal his
vision.
“But if it’s true, then you should also know the answer to your own question.” Fyodor says,
not teasing as before but not any less determined either.
And normally, Dazai would know. He would see past the schemes, match the paths of
Fyodor’s mind and follow their lead until he finds what he’s looking for, but this is different.
The fifth scent lingering in the air is like nothing Dazai has ever come across, he doesn’t
know what is happening to Chuuya and it’s driving him mad, he can’t think—
He’s wasting time.
“I know you’re not trying to win.” Dazai watches every twitch of black tails, every smallest
sign washing over Fyodor’s calm face, slowly putting the pieces together. “I know you’re
doing whatever this is for someone else.”
This time, it’s Fyodor’s flames that explode between them, a cloud of black smoke left
behind right where Dazai stood until a second ago. “An intriguing theory.” The kitsune
murmurs, almost to himself, red eyes scanning the area for na incoming attack and—
When it comes, it's not the flames, or the claws.
It's razor sharp fangs, bared.
Because, now, there’s a huge white fox leaping at him from behind the smoke, and it’s aiming
for Fyodor’s throat. Full–fox forms are dangerous: they’re stronger, mostly immune to fire—
Fyodor’s back hits the ground as sharp teeth tear through his kimono and sink into his
forearm.
—and they are faster, almost impossible to run from.
“But I don’t…” It takes a lot of control to make his powers flow into his arm, strengthening it
enough not to have it bitten off, or his bones crushed. “...see any evidence for that.”
“I told you.” Dazai’s voice rings between them as his legs pin the other’s body to the ground,
long claws digging into Fyodor’s flesh with every intent to cut it, to rip it. “Only a madman
would steal from me—”
Five tails and a leg shoot into Dazai’s body right under his ribs. His jaw loosens, his fox body
stumbling to the side as Fyodor escapes at a safe distance again, leaving a trail of scarlet
blood on the ground.
“A mad or a desperate man.” Dazai growls, getting up from the ground and preparing to
attack again. “And you’re neither of those.”
So who is it?
What do they want?
What did they do to Chuuya?
“Such compliments coming from you?” Growling, a black and just as big as Dazai fox stands
right where Fyodor stood mere second ago, with blood smeared on its face and front legs.
“I’m flattered.”
Despite his wounds, Fyodor’s movements aren’t lacking speed, or strength – he matches
Dazai in every move, every leap. White and black fur meet among the blue and purple fires
exploding all around them, always leaving behind a trail of fresh blood. Dazai’s fur
illuminates with blue lines mapping his body at every step, the patterns fading away only to
reappear a second later whenever he uses his powers.
Despite the underlying calmness of this world – here, it is anything but that. Light and dark
fur tainted with blood spin together in a murderous dance, the ground burnt and breaking
under their legs. The low growls and suppressed whines resonate through the air, fangs
fighting claws and flames fighting each other with vicious intent.
“You can’t stall me forever, Dostoevsky.” Dazai watches the other fox standing between him
and the cave, noticing how Fyodor refuses to move from there, how he refuses to attack first
if it means leaving the path to the cave open.
The black fox spits out blood, his tails alert and ready. “I think I’m doing a rather good job so
far.”
…so he’s not denying it anymore, huh?
“You can’t win against me.” Dazai aims for the other’s throat, but his fangs sink into one of
Fyodor’s tails instead when the kitsune uses it to shield himself. “Not when you’re this
distracted.” He mocks the black fox with his own words.
There’s a reason why Fyodor has more injuries than Dazai, while they’re supposed to be
matched in strength, equals. There’s a reason why Dazai can clearly see even the smallest and
shortest openings in the other’s stance. The spell locking the cave weakens ever so often, and
every flicker in its powers draws Fyodor’s attention, making him hesitate and listen, instead
of keeping his mind focused on his opponent.
Why, exactly? Dazai isn’t sure.
But what he does know is that it means the Akutagawa siblings are doing their job, it means
that whoever cast this spell is getting weaker, getting hurt. Even if it is taking too long for his
liking.
Fyodor was right. Chuuya’s fear and pain echoing in Dazai’s soul are a distraction, but it’s a
constant flow of emotions, something the kitsune can use to fuel his hunger for blood. He
hates it, hates how Chuuya is alone with whatever is going on there, but at least he can feel
him at all times, always aware of how good or bad it is. But Fyodor?
He’s in the dark.
He can’t know anything about the bakeneko, or the human, from here, and every smallest
sign of what may be going on creates cracks in his focus, letting Dazai use it against him in a
way he wouldn’t be able to in any other situation. They’re both at a disadvantage, but they
are not equals, not today.
“I can handle myself.” Fyodor says, though his breathing is heavier than Dazai’s. He’s more
tired from the fighting than the other kitsune and it shows. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. It’s
almost done—”
There. It’s here.

The moment Dazai has been waiting for all this time, the moment the human that dared to
trick Chuuya and the cat that took him away appear out of thin air at the border of the open
space, right by the trees’ line. There’s no reason to fight Fyodor anymore – he only needs to
kill that one person to get what he wants.
Or two, if he’s going to mix convenience with pleasure.
Revenge is, after all, sweet when your soul craves it this much.
Ignoring whatever Fyodor may have wanted to say, Dazai leaps forward much faster than
before, putting all of his agility into one last trick. He takes a full turn by Fyodor’s side,
sending the other fox flying to the faraway line of trees and—
He’s going for them. For the bakeneko with blood streaming down his face and the boy
shivering in his arm.
The Akutagawa siblings and Rashoumon are running their way, Dazai can sense them close.
They did a good job of luring the necessary casualties back here, where Dazai can take them
out himself. The cat seems on the verge of passing out, only a pair of the boy’s grey eyes
watching in terror how Dazai leaps at them. They’re wide with shock and panic, with the
need to run away, his arms struggling to… push the cat out of the way?
Ah, but what does it matter?
It’ll only take Dazai a fraction of a second to reach the other as well. If the human wants to
play a tragic hero, so be it. A pointless sacrifice, not that the kitsune cares.
There’s no stopping Dazai. There’s nothing that can stop the bared teeth and the promise of a
messy death that they carry. One bite, one ripped out throat—
There’s blood. Lots of it.
Silence.
Struggling.
Screaming.
…and once again, it’s Fyodor’s arm that Dazai locks his teeth around, tasting the familiar
blood and the exhausted power flowing through it.
Somehow, the dark kitsune has managed to use every bit of his power to make it barely in
time, too focused on pushing the human and the cat out of the way to protect the bones in his
arm from breaking under Dazai’s jaw.
The spell is still active. The other two are still alive.
Fyodor protected this weak human and hurt bakeneko, and paid the price for it with his body.
… why?
“Fyodor–sama!” Sigma cries from the ground, Nikolai’s trembling arm keeping him from
trying to reach the kitsunes with the last bits of strength left in it. At the sound of the human’s
voice, Fyodor’s eyes burn with red brighter than before, his teeth gritting with strain and pain
as he hisses a low ‘stay back’ and pushes against Dazai more, uncaring of how his bones
shatter.
…how interesting.
Valuable information – for later.
In the next second, the bakeneko’s only open eye shuts as the demon passes out, leaning
heavily on Sigma in one last protective effort. The Akutagawa siblings and Rashoumon run
out of the forest and, sensing the weakened connection between the cat and the seal, rip the
spell from the cave’s entrance without hesitation, or much effort.
Dazai would only need a few seconds to finish all three of them off, to get his revenge before
getting to Chuuya, but—
Blood. Pain. Blood. Hatred. Blood.
Power.
Blood.
Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood—
’PLEASE JUST KILL ME!’
The tremors of Chuuya’s soul fill Dazai’s mind, his husband’s suffering floods his soul with
all its intensity. The scent of raw hatred, although faded, fills the air, making it difficult to
breathe, to think clearly. But Dazai only focuses on one thing, one feeling driving him
forward from the bottom of his heart—
Fyodor, the human, the cat – all forgotten, insignificant.
— CHUUYA!
Everything happened so quickly, Sigma didn’t even have time to think about it. When
Nikolai’s spell brought them back to the cave once the cat knew it would be the last jump he
makes, when all the boy could see was death leaping at them—
His body moved on its own. It was his fault anyway, he was ready to pay the price so long
that Nikolai doesn’t have to do it for him. But then, it wasn’t his blood that spilled on the
ground, it wasn’t his bones that broke under the sharp fangs.
It all happened too fast for the human to see, to do anything other than watch with terror as
Fyodor struggled against the white fox. And now…
Now, it feels almost unreal.
For a second, the air in Sigma’s lungs feels like it’s on fire, like there are needles in his blood
and his head is being split open, but most of all—
Relief washes over him.
With teary eyes, the boy watches as the white fox lets go of Fyodor and disappears inside the
cave. He watches how one of the wolves, the black–smoke one, disappears as if it was blown
away by the wind and how the other two stumble over their feet as they follow the fox into
the dark, unsteady on their feet all of a sudden.
They’re safe.
Nikolai is safe, Fyodor is safe…
But they’re both hurt. Badly.
“Don’t…” With one arm around the cat’s body to keep him from falling to the ground, Sigma
reaches out to tug at Fyodor’s bloodied clothes. His voice is weak, desperate, pleading as
tears start to trail down his cheeks.
The kitsune looks at him, face strained with pain and eyes wide with… surprise, maybe?
He’ll worry about that later, somewhere else, somewhere safe.
“Don’t go after him.” Sigma whispers, tightening his grip even if his body can’t stop shaking,
even if his full strength couldn’t begin to compare to even the smallest fraction of the
kitsune's. “L–let’s go back.”
Sigma doesn’t care if the plan failed or not, he doesn’t care who will be disappointed—
“Please.”
—he only wants to go home, or somewhere safe where he can treat Nikolai and Fyodor’s
wounds. Where they won’t have to fight anymore, or be chased around a world they don’t
belong in.
Fyodor’s expression softens ever so slightly, his shoulders relaxing as he kneels in front of
Sigma and Nikolai, exhausted. “Okay.” He says, his voice weak. “It’s done now, anyway.”
Then, purple flames – gentle and warm, but not hot – rise around them, stealing the world
around from their eyes with a familiar veil of comforting fire as Sigma lets out a shuddering
sigh.
They can go home now.
They’ll be okay.
(The rest is up to Dazai, his companions… and whatever that person’s plans are.)
He can smell it. The unfamiliar scent of hatred and power faints with every second, as if it’s
being locked away, while the smell of blood and suffering grows stronger with Dazai’s every
step.
He can hear it. The quietest sobs, shuddering breaths, weak heartbeat, clanking chains and
breaking bones.
He can feel it. The pain crushing a small body, the intrusion to the human’s mind and soul,
the desperate pleas for all of it to end, for Chuuya to end, and then—
Then, Dazai can see it.
The body hanging from the chains digging into thin wrists, the cuts that look as if they were
made from underneath Chuuya’s skin, and the pool of blood at the boy’s feet. His head is
hanging without strength, body trembling all over without moving.
He’s drenched in blood.
He’s alive.
“CHUUYA!” Taking the last few steps, Dazai changes into his usual form. His hands reach
out, cupping Chuuya’s face and guiding it up as delicately as he can, slowly, gently—
“Ar...gh…ple—”
—but every touch only brings the boy more pain. Dazai isn’t even sure Chuuya recognises
him. His eyes are barely open, blood flowing out of them, out of his ears and nose and mouth.
Every time the redhead tries to speak, or whine, or cry, his body spasms, throwing up another
wave of red liquid. He’s alive, but… for how long?
“It’s okay.” Dazai tries to reassure him, soothe his mind even the slightest bit to bring him
any comfort at all. “I’m here for you.” He needs to get Chuuya out of here, but how does he
do it without hurting him?
There isn’t an inch of skin left without wounds or bruises, the smallest of touches feel like the
human’s bones are breaking under Dazai’s fingers, shattering into smaller and smaller pieces.
Like even his breath can cut the boy’s skin.
“I’m sorry.” The kitsune whispers, moving one arm behind Chuuya’s back and pulling the
boy against his chest.
Every movement is slow and gentle.

Every movement is followed by a choked cry and violent shivers, by the redhead begging
him to stop from the bottom of his soul.
“I know, my love.” Dazai tries to soothe him, soothe his mind at least if nothing else. With
his words, with reaching out with his soul and enveloping the redhead’s pain with his own
mind’s soft caresses.
Does it work? The fox doesn’t know. But he does it anyway.
He’ll do anything to help.
”I’m sorry, this is going to hurt, but only for a moment.”
Two of his tails move up to Chuuya’s arms, supporting them as another two cut through the
chains, setting the boy’s hands free. A loud whine echoes inside the cave, followed by the
sound of metal falling to the ground.
‘IT HURTS’, Dazai can hear it even when there are no words leaving Chuuya’s lips.
“I know.” He whispers, slowly guiding the redhead’s arms down, careful not to dislocate his
shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
‘MAKE IT STOP!’
“Just a little longer, Chuuya. I promise.”
Dazai has to grit his teeth to calm down the anger pooling in his chest, to stop his hands from
shaking with rage at the thought of what they did to his human. But he can’t let his emotions
take over, not when even the gentlest of touches make Chuuya suffer.
Using the softness of his fur to his advantage, Dazai moves Chuuya’s body in his arms,
scooping the boy up from the ground. The redhead doesn’t fight it, he probably couldn’t even
if he tried, only limply lying in the kitsune’s arms. The blood never stops spilling to the
ground, soaking into Dazai’s clothes and fur at a dangerously rapid rate.
‘PLEASE!’
As Dazai’s gaze falls on the boy’s body, he catches a glimpse of a black and red scar
stretching over his heart. It’s closed now, but the fox knows it wasn’t there before, he knows
it shouldn’t be there—
And it burns.
He noticed it before, when Chuuya was pressed to his chest, how hot and wrong it felt, even
through the clothes and Dazai’s bandages separating them. How hostile.
‘PLEASE, IT HURTS!’
Somehow, the moment Dazai’s eye meets the dark scar, whatever caused it to appear can feel
it.
‘MAKE IT STOP!’
And it makes Chuuya feel it, too. Makes him suffer for it, his body twisting in invisible pain
as louder cries escape his throat, bloody tears spilling down his cheeks. The boy’s hands
clutch at his clothes with the strength they don’t have anymore.
‘IT HURTS, IT HURTS, IT HURTS!’
“Shush, it’s okay.” Dazai pulls him closer again, his own heart clenching with pain at the
crushing sounds coming from inside Chuuya’s body when he does so. “It’s going to be okay.”
‘GET IT OUT, GEIT OUT, GET IT OUT!’
‘DAZAI PLEASE!’
The last thought screams in the kitsune’s mind like a thunder, loud and sudden, and making
him shudder with the intensity of Chuuya’s suffering.
He let it happen.
He let him go.
“I’m here, little human—” Dazai’s tails wrap around them, shielding the redhead from the
world as blue flames start enveloping them.
‘PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!’
“—you’re safe now.”
(But will he make it out alive?)
Chapter End Notes
This ended up being a short chapter but oh well~
THEY ARE BACK TOGETHER BUT AT WHAT COST
EDIT: in case anyone goes back to this to check for info -- ch49 will come out on Friday
(17th June), not Thursday, because I'm travelling I have no time to edit it T_T
Uncertain Minds
Chapter Notes
“I’ll come check on you later, get some rest for now and let the spell do its work.”
With the usual, though more and more tired the longer this ridiculous situation goes on,
formula falling from her lip, Yosano slides the door closed and leaves the patients behind it to
themselves. She did everything she could, which may not have been much with how far their
minds have strayed from the calm and sane path, but it’ll keep them from falling even further
into the madness claiming their souls. For now, that will have to do, and later – she isn’t sure.
Letting out a sigh, Yosano intertwines her hands behind her back and stretches her spine into
an elegant arch until all the bones pop into place.
Gods, she’s tired, and that little chat with Dazai an hour ago didn’t help with lifting her mood
in the slightest. If anything, it made it worse, with a bitter taste lingering in her mind. Or
rather, it’s Ranpo’s words that keep bugging her, the human’s uncertainty left behind an
uneasy feeling in her chest.
Dazai has always been a troublesome acquaintance, hard to deal with and even harder to
understand. In a way, it makes the kitsune an intriguing case for Yosano to try and dissect – in
a rhetorical manner, of course. But that’s only when it doesn’t interfere with her work in any
way.
Sure, the Akutagawa siblings aren’t her servants, she can’t expect them to choose a favour
over an order, but Dazai did agree to let them help Yosano around for as long as they’re
needed, within reason. So, appearing out of nowhere and demanding they go back without
even trying to give some sort of an explanation was beyond rude if you ask her. Rude and
very, very inconvenient.
Being who she is, with a profession that requires separating her personal life from her work,
Yosano has never been a petty person. Even if she threatens to do otherwise in the heat of an
argument, she does what needs to be done, no matter the situation – every patient is equal,
treated with equal care. However, she is also known not to be much on the forgiving side.
She’s professional about her work, that much is true, but only grants favours to those who
deserve them. To those who have earned it – and Dazai is not one of them.
…that being said, Yosano can’t help but think about it.
Not all the time, she has patients to look after and medicine and spells to brew; she can’t
burden her mind with worrying about a human that she can’t even be sure actually is in
trouble, or in need of her help. Yes, it would explain Dazai’s earlier attitude and the
bloodthirsty aura she hasn’t seen in years. Yes, Ranpo tends to be correct most of the time,
irritatingly so. Yes, she did like talking to Chuuya at the wedding, he’s not only cute but also
interesting in nature.
But it doesn’t change the fact that the redhead is an unknown factor, somewhere else, while
Yosano’s patients are here and they need both her attention and focus. So, it’s only a quiet
voice in the back of her head that keeps whispering to her whenever she’s alone—
Like now.
As she walks back to her office, only a faint sound of a thousand invisible fluttering wings
echoing in the corridor accompanying her, Yosano starts to wonder again…
It’s been an hour already. An hour, for an injured human, is an extremely long time. The last
time, Dazai had Ryuu come here right after the kitsune picked the human up from the forest,
and it wasn’t even that bad back then. Well, for anyone else it would be a life or death type of
situation, but in Chuuya’s case, with not one but five blessings keeping flowing through his
veins, it could have been much worse. That’s not an insensitive opinion, it’s a fact.
Which is why Yosano would like to believe that, whatever has happened, Dazai is simply
overreacting. That it’s a matter of being protective, together with the bond they now share
amplifying everything they feel – both the good things and the bad ones. It would probably
make her more annoyed about having her helpers taken away, but she could try to understand.
Or make it into a debt the fox would owe her, who knows.
But then there are Ranpo’s words, and the way even he, a person holding all the confidence
in the world in one body, wasn’t sure and… It makes everything so much more complicated.
Hell, it makes Yosano the tiniest bit worried about the boy. He’s a nice person and he turns
Dazai into someone bearable to be around for once, a feat not even the fox’s godly friend
could ever do. Plus, Kouyou has taken a liking to the boy and seeing her sad isn’t Yosano’s
favourite thing to do or to witness—
With a single, faint sensation bringing her out of her thoughts, Yosano halts.
Someone’s coming. Directly here.
Again.
If that’s the annoying fox again, he’s going to have to—
“Yosano–sensei!”
The woman blinks, confused. “Ryuu? Gin?” She looks at the siblings appearing before her
from the black cloud, more pale than ever and struggling to catch their breath. They don’t
look hurt, not physically, but their eyes hold a distinct shadow of a mental struggle, however
faint… “What’s—?”
“Seal every room that has patients inside!”
“Wh—”
“Quickly!” The boy breathes out. “Please, we’ll explain later, but you have to do it!”
Questions push at her lips as Yosano’s brows furrow, observing the other two and sensing a
distant, weird feeling sticking to them, a scent that she can’t quite understand. “...sure.”
Just as the word rings between them, the butterflies from her kimono come to life, escaping
the fabric with a cacophony of delicate sounds and flying away from the woman as they fill
the endless corridors. Each settles on a different door, merging with the wood in a spell that
nothing can break through until the butterflies are called upon directly by Yosano.
“Done.” She says, crossing her arms. “Now, tell me what in the world is this about—”
But her words are cut off by a sharp pain intruding her mind, a foreign force trying to seep
into Yosano’s consciousness’ deepest parts and drive her insane with a single push. It catches
her off–guard at first, but it only takes a second to protect her mind from it once she realises
it’s happening. It’s strangely easy to protect from, as if the attack wasn’t actually intended for
her specifically, as if there is no real thought behind it.
Is it…?
But in the exact same second, another person appears in her clinic – Dazai, covered in blood,
both his own and… Oh. The weird scent, the quiet whimpers, the blood, the kitsune’s
suffocating rage that emanates from the red eye, Ryuu’s request, the attack on her mind…
Oh, do not tell her that’s—
But that’s impossible.
“Not here.” Yosano hisses just as the fox is about to say something, she doesn’t need to be
told to know what’s going on – she can see and sense it.
She look at Ryuu and Gin. ”You two, stay here.” Then, at Dazai… “ You, follow me.” She
turns on her heel and starts walking to the room Ranpo prepared earlier for that exact
situation, not bothering to look back at Dazai to see if he’s doing what he’s told. The fox can
try to fight her, or he can listen and hope to save his husband. It’s his choice, not hers.
They get to the room in no time, Yosano sliding the door open with enough force to break the
wooden frame and Dazai following right after her. There’s a futon laid out in the middle of
the room, and supplies waiting by the walls – supplies taken from her office, as Yosano
notices. How convenient. She’ll have to have a chat with Ranpo about sneaking around.
Later.
“Lay him there.”
For now, Yosano can’t be concerned with one human’s improper habits, because she has
another human’s life to save.
“Do you know what to do with this?” Dazai asks from somewhere behind her, the growl he’s
trying to hold back still audible in his voice.
“No.” Yosano frowns as she rummages around the drawers for whatever can be used to deal
with… with this. Ranpo clearly only brought random things he thought would help, but he’s
not a doctor and he doesn’t actually know what any of that is used for. Not to mention that
this is a very special case even for Yosano. Having this thrown at her out of nowhere is less
than ideal, thinking about all the possibilities and trying to remember the spell she hasn’t
used, or even seen, in ages is making her head throb—
“Do you know how to take it out?”
—and Dazai’s threatening aura doesn’t help with focusing on the task at hand.
“No.”
“Can you help him, Yosano?”
“I don’t know!” She slams one of the drawers shut and turns around, glaring at the fox
standing by the futon with… “But I can’t try to help him until you put him down.”
They stare at each other for a long second, Dazai’s arms pulling Chuuya closer when the
boy’s muffled cry, followed by a bloody coughing fit, breaks the silence stretching between
them. Yosano can see the hesitation in Dazai’s red eye, she can see how the kitsune’s whole
body radiates with ‘stay away’ and ‘do not touch him’ and ‘help him’—
She understands, truly. But understanding won’t treat Chuuya’s wounds, nor will it save his
life.
“Do you want to prolong this?” She asks, voice low, taking a step forward and ignoring how
the fox’s presence thickens in the air, his animosity picking at her skin. “Do you want to let
him die?”
No matter Dazai’s answer, Yosano won’t let it happen so easily, not while she’s still here. It
would save her unnecessary trouble and precious time to have Dazai cooperate, but if he
doesn’t… Well, she will have to force him, and hope the redhead won’t slip out of their hands
during that time.
Fortunately, though, it seems her words managed to get through to Dazai, even if only a little.
The kitsune lets out a quiet growl, consciously or not, and kneels down on the floor. His tails
support the boy’s body as he places him on the futon, retracting slowly when Chuuya is lying
down fully. One of Dazai’s hands stays on his head, fingers tangled in the red hair, while the
other holds onto the smaller hand weakly clutching at his clothes. Like this, Yosano can
finally see the whole state Chuuya is in and—
“...gods.”
—she has never seen anything like this, and she has seen a lot, in demons and humans alike.
“I know.” Dazai hisses, his eye staring up at her. His body is tense, like he’s ready to attack at
any moment should Yosano do anything that provokes him.
Throwing the small vials and sachets with herbs to the side, Yosano kneels on the other side
of the futon. She’s trying to assess the situation, trying to pinpoint where to start, but…
Everything looks bad, and it’s getting worse by the second.
“Untie his belt.” She knows there are more injuries under his clothes, the futon is almost
entirely red from the boy’s blood by now, and they’ve barely put him down.
Cuts, torn skin, broken bones, blood flowing out of everywhere… That black–red scar on his
chest looks dangerous, it looks and feels wrong. It’s a mark that doesn’t belong on any
human, a wound that shouldn't have been possible—
Grabbing two different vials from the ground, Yosano crushes them in her hand at the same
time as Dazai’s tails work on Chuuya’s clothes, gentle but fast. The glass shatters into
powder, but the liquids from the small bottles don't spill down her arm – they start to shine,
swirling in the air around her fist and mixing into a vortex that soon explodes into dozens
upon dozens of small, golden butterflies. They fly towards the redhead, each settling on a
different cut and turning into glittering dust, falling onto his skin and into the open wounds.
It’s slow and it makes Chuuya choke on his blood before Dazai turns his head to the side to
help him breathe, but it’s not for nothing. The wounds are beginning to close, the spasms
stop, the boy’s body seems to relax—
“What…?”
—and then, they are reopening as Chuuya twists in pain again and a choked up cry rips from
his throat.
“We need to take it out.” Dazai hisses, staring at Yosano while his hand never leaves
Chuuya’s hair.
The woman looks at all the new wounds, a newly cut labyrinth painted over the old one, at
the black–red scar and… “We can’t. Not yet. Not anymore. I don’t know, but…” Her eyes
widen as she starts to realise… “...we can’t. It’s keeping him alive.”
But Dazai doesn’t seem to agree with her, nor does he like the idea she proposes. “It’s tearing
him apart—”
“Yes.” Yosano reaches to the side for another vial. “It’s breaking up his body and keeping it
together at the same time.”
“Then take it out and heal him before he dies!”
“How?” Yosano’s head snaps up at Dazai, her eyes piercing as they meet the kitsune’s gaze.
“He’s barely alive as it is. Who knows what will happen if I push him even further!”
“If we don’t take it out. “The fox grits his teeth. “It’s going to kill him!”
“Acting without thinking is going to kill him faster!”
“That thing is—!”
“Maybe you should argue about it after you stabilise him— ARGHH—!”
Before Ranpo can finish his sentence, one of Dazai’s tails shoots towards him, wrapping
around the man’s neck and cutting off his airways, leaving him struggling to take a single
breath. At the same time, Yosano extends her hand towards the kitsune, a small knife she
keeps hidden in her sleeves pressing to the pulse point on Dazai’s neck.
“Let him go.”
Ranpo’s struggling gasps echo in the room together with Chuuya’s desperate whines as the
two demons glare at each other.
“I said…” The blade slides under Dazai’s jaw, the tip digging into his skin enough to draw
blood with the smallest push. “Let. Him. Go.”
Another second passes. Ranpo’s hands fly to the white fur to try to loosen the tail’s hold,
while Yosano’s eyes start to shine with anger and power, and Chuuya…
‘IT HURTS, IT HURTS, IT HURTS!’
The echos resonating through his soul play on the most painful strings of Dazai’s heart,
singing a melody of agony and despair, of wishing for all of it to end, no matter how—
When Dazai’s tail retracts, Ranpo stumbles forward, coughing loudly as he’s trying to catch
his breath again. “Someone’s—” The man looks at the other three, green eyes wet with
unspilled tears and lips stretched into a grim smirk. “On edge—huh?” His hair is a mess, and
now that Yosano takes a better look at him, there are butterflies in it. Her servants.
It explains why the human hasn’t gone insane from simply standing in the same room as…
that thing.
“Ranpo—”
“You’re both emotional and you’re wasting time.” The man cuts Dazai’s words off. “Make
him stable first, and then argue all you want.”
‘Easier said than done’, Yosano wants to say, but as she looks down at the boy again, all
covered in blood and fresh cuts, Ranpo’s words ring louder in her mind. Louder than the
sound of bones shattering inside a slowly dying body…
Stable.
Only stable.
If it’s only about keeping Chuuya from dying and making the pain bearable, instead of
healing him completely…
“You won’t like it.” She says to the fox, her voice painted with the irritation she rarely allows
herself to show. If it was up to her, she’d throw Dazai out of the room so she could work and
focus on what needs to be done, but that would only end in a fight and her house being
destroyed.
So, the kitsune stays. For now.
“But it’s the best I can do right now.”
And he will not be happy about what happens next.
If it wasn’t for the pained frown on Chuuya’s face, Dazai would think the boy is only resting,
drifting in the darkness of his dreamless sleep like during every night the kitsune has spent
watching him.
But he is not. His breathing is shallow, brows knitted together and quiet whines slipping past
his lips ever so often. He lies still on the futon, blanketed by hundreds of golden butterflies
that keep his body’s pain to a minimum, sealing his wounds when they start to reopen.
Whenever one of them perishes, a new one lands in its place. Over and over again.
With a wet cloth, Dazai gently cleans Chuuya’s face, wiping both the dried and fresh blood
from the boy’s skin. The bleeding has mostly stopped, only small droplets diluted with tears
escaping Chuuya’s closed eyes occasionally. He’s alive. He’s stable—
“He’s in pain.” Dazai says, brushing bloodied hair out of the way.
The redhead looks so frail like this – pale and tired and so delicate under the fox’s fingers. A
small body that has gone through too much and is being forced to endure even more. The
kitsune can see it in every twitch of Chuuya’s muscles, he can feel it in the muffled screams
of his soul, and he can’t soothe any of it. He can’t take away the boy’s pain and make it his
own no matter how badly he wishes he could.
Their bond can only make them share the pain, not take it away from one side. It affected
him before only because it was sudden and violent, a tsunami hitting a calm shore before it
floods everything in its reach. Now, it’s merely a constant echo somewhere deep, a feeling
that only hurts his heart with knowing what Chuuya is going through, not his body.
Even the minor injuries Fyodor left behind on him have already healed, with Yosano’s
somewhat annoyed help.
“Believe me.” Yosano sighs, audibly exhausted and with a frustrated hint behind it. “I know.”
She’s sitting by the wall, focused on both supporting the spell that keeps on healing Chuuya
at all times and reading through the old scroll she had Ranpo bring over. “You should be
thankful he’s even alive at this point.”
Dazai’s lips twitch as he swallows a growl. He wets the cloth in a bowl of clear water,
painting the liquid with cruel crimson, and moves to try and clean at least some of the blood
from Chuuya’s hair. His human is always so grumpy when his hair gets tangled and, right
now, it’s a mess. Dazai will have to clean it, comb it, he’ll do everything so Chuuya will
smile when he wakes up—
“We can’t leave him like this.”
His tails rest on the floor around them, like a barrier separating the redhead from Yosano and
Ranpo silently sitting in the far corner, from the door and whoever may want to step inside –
from everyone.
“We won’t.” Yosano says, throwing one scroll to the side and moving to a different one. “It’s
only until I figure out what to do with him.”
Dazai knows she’s right. He knows this is the best they could do in this situation, but…
It’s infuriating to see his human like this and not be able to help, to ease his suffering.
Hearing every quiet cry, seeing every smallest twitch of pain on his face – it’s making the
kitsune’s mind scream with frustration. A part of him wants to go back and make everyone
who did this pay tenfold, but he won’t. He can’t leave Chuuya, can’t take his eye off of the
boy.
Because what if something happens again when he’s not here? What if someone takes him
away? Again?
How could he have let it happen? How could he have let them take Chuuya?
How could he have failed—
“We need to take this thing out of him.” His voice is low, seemingly levelled, but his eye
shines brightly with the true feeling hiding behind it. Anger, hatred, frustration. Guilt.
“I…” Another sigh. A bad sign when coming from Yosano. “I don’t think we can.”
Dazai’s hand stops. He looks over his shoulder and at her. “What do you mean?”
Yosano doesn’t look up, her eyes still looking over the old characters painted onto the paper
as she runs a hand through her hark hair. “I mean it’s too late.” A tingle of frustration rings in
her voice as she says it.
In all the centuries, Dazai has never seen her like this – uncertain and facing a problem she
doesn’t know how to solve. He’s seen her younger years, the days she was still only learning,
but it’s the first time he witnesses her composure crumble and an irritated scowl blooming on
her face.
Normally, it would have been quite interesting. Amusing, even.
But it isn’t now.
“Too late how?” The fox insists.

Yosano unrolls yet another scroll Ranpo hands her. “The scar on his chest has already closed
up. The seal is set in place—”
“Then break it.”
Her lips twitch. “It’s not that easy, Dazai.”
“I brought him here for you to help him, Yosano—”
“Well, what do you want me to do, then?!” The woman’s head snaps up, the scroll falling
from her lap to the floor as pure, undiluted anger seeps into her voice. “You come here with a
thing that is supposed to be a legend even among demons, and expect me to know how to get
rid of it?! To know anything about what to do?!”
…honestly? He’s not sure.
Dazai didn’t pay that much thought to it before coming here. He was only desperate to keep
Chuuya alive and, now that the redhead is stable, he’s only starting to let what happened –
what is happening – sink in.
An older, ancient god.
A dead one.
Because ancient gods perished long before Dazai was born, long before anyone alive today
was around to tell the tales of their lost glory. Which means that, technically, it’s not even a
god anymore, only an essence of a being that once held a great power – no consciousness, no
will of its own, no memories or a soul – and even that is something that shouldn’t be allowed
to exist.
Nothing is supposed to remain when a god dies.
Nothing is supposed to stay behind long enough to be found, strong enough to be felt.
There are very few rules that govern all the dimensions equally, but this has been one of them
ever since the earliest times. Until now.
“There are no records of an older god’s essence ever being left behind. It’s not supposed to be
possible.” Yosano says, unwavering under the kitsune's glare. “We haven’t even had a regular
god’s death in centuries, Dazai. Falling from their palaces? Sure. But not dying.” She shakes
her head. “I simply don’t know what to do with him.”
Dazai stays quiet, his gaze cold.
He can’t blame her for not knowing, not in this case. Until half an hour ago, even he didn’t
think it was possible. But here they are. The two – or three, including Ranpo – of them,
confused, and Chuuya with something strange and dangerous inside of him.
“...can he live with it?” The fox asks, trying not to sound as cold as he feels about the
situation. “Can you heal him and… seal it harmless somehow? Put it to sleep.”
As long as Chuuya can stay with him, as long as he can be himself and not suffer the pain at
every moment of every day for as long as his heart beats, Dazai will have it. He won’t fight a
duel with the enemy he can’t win against, he’d rather have them asleep and lurking in the
shadows, rather than taking the only love of his life away from him.
Yosano exhales deeply, the continuous spell keeping Chuuya from succumbing to Death
draining her energy by the second. “I think there is a way, with the help of some of your
power, to keep it contained to a certain degree, and I’ll have to run some tests when— if he
wakes up, but… I just don’t know, Dazai.” She leans back on the wall, the back of her head
hitting the wood. “I don’t know if his body can withstand it, or for how long.”
“...even with the blessings?”
“The blessings are the only reason you aren’t burying your husband yet.” A dozen golden
butterflies wither away as they speak, only to be replaced by new ones. “If you want me to be
honest, I don’t think he will live for long, no matter what we do.”
“But you don’t know that, do you?”
“No. I don’t even know if he’ll wake up. Or be the same person you know. Or even be a
person anymore. How many times to I have to tell you? I. Don’t Know.”
…right.
Neither of them does.
But if there’s a chance, however small, that they can seal it and pretend none of it ever
happened – Dazai is going to try it. He has to.
It’s right when he’s about to ask Yosano about what she needs his power for, how he can help
Chuuya out of his painful slumber, when his ears perk up and turn to the side, when a quiet
shuffling sound comes from the futon and—
“Chuuya?”
(Wrong answer.)
Chapter End Notes
Sorry for the delay! I've been travelling this past week and spent almost every day on a
train/outside, and I didn't have the time to edit this chapter yesterday :') I'm posting this
from the train rn as well so THAT'S FUN.... I hope everything is okay with the text
because my internet here is AWFUL
Anyway--
Don't think I'll make anythign easy for Chuuya just because Arahabaki is now involved
>:) A better/longer explanation will be in the next chapter!
Ancient Terrors
Chapter Summary
READ CAREFULLY, especially if you’re reading on a pc, because some lines are
aligned to the right for a certain purpose and easy to miss :3
Chapter Notes
MAKE IT STOP!
PLEASE, IT HURTS!
GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!
DAZAI PLEASE!
PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!
‘I’m here for you.’
…that voice. Is Dazai really here? Or is it Chuuya’s mind’s blind wish, the last grasp at
comfort while his body falls apart? He isn’t aware of what is going on around him, the pain is
too much to try and focus on anything else other than how desperately he wants everything to
stop already. Stop hurting, stop screaming, stop—
‘You’re safe now.’
Is he? Why does it still hurt, then? Why does he feel like something wants to rip him apart
from the inside? Why is every breath a suffering? Why—
Why is he alone?
‘It’s going to be okay.’
…is he alone, though?
He can’t feel his own body anymore, not really, but through the fog of pain clouding his
mind, Chuuya thinks he can feel someone else. Someone whose warmth is so familiar and
gentle. Soothing. It’s all around him, the voice that fights to to be heard always echoing
somewhere close if only the redhead focuses on it—
But then it’s gone.
The few soft touches among the onslaught of violent slashes, the delicate warmth among the
raging fire, the distant sound of someone’s beating heart among the screams of his own
thought… All of it replaced by the stinging cold, by the emptiness of being left behind—
Except for the caress on his head, featherlike.
Except for the sensation of someone holding onto his hand that’s desperately gripping at the
material of this person that has held Chuuya until now.
It’s cold, but someone is here with him.
It’s hot, but someone is here with him.
It hurts—
‘I’m here, Chuuya.’ A quiet whisper seeps not into his ears, but directly into his soul. ‘You’re
going to be okay, I promise.’
…Dazai.
Dazai is here, he came for him, he’s going to—
But it still hurts, the hurricane inside of him continues raging on with the unwavering force,
never letting Chuuya rest, never allowing him relief even for a single second.
…until a delicate wave of comforting sensation washes over Chuuya’s body.
It chills the burning cuts, warms the freezing tears and soothes the pain that has clawed at his
very core. It makes breathing easy, almost enough to let Chuuya feel his body again and—
It hurts…
It hurts…
IT HURTS!
—and then, everything comes back.
The pain, the feeling of being crushed on the inside, the anger taking over his mind and
painting his thoughts with blind hatred. The shivers, the blood that so easily flows out of his
body while also filling his lungs.
He—
He can’t do it again.
He can’t.
There are voices around him, words Chuuya can’t make out anymore among the noises of his
bones breaking and the ringing in his ears that sounds more like maniacal screams than
anything else. Maybe some of it is his own cries, pleas for everything to end once and for all,
one way or another. He can’t fight it anymore, he can’t stand the pain.
If only he gives in.
If only he lets his thing win, maybe then it will stop.
…it doesn’t.
But, somehow, it becomes more… tame, compared to before. Not enough to relax and slip
into the dark nothingness that will numb the pain, but… bearable. Not too hot or cold, not
pushing Chuuya to his limits but also not letting him feel grounded in the here and now.
It feels like he’s floating.
There isn’t anything that can— that wants to hurt him, but there isn’t anything to soothe the
ache that has engraved itself into his body, either. Opening his eyes is too difficult of a task,
focusing on whatever is going on around him feels impossible. It still hurts, but… it doesn’t
feel like he’s dying.
It’s the type of pain that reminds Chuuya of being alive.
The soreness that comes with pushing his body too much on some days, the fatigue that
comes with working too much for too long. But something isn’t right, something feels off
about this. His mind is calm, it should be—
No, it’s not.
It is—
No, it’s not.
…who are you?
Sharp pain shoots right through Chuuya’s heart, tightening his throat and seeping into his
mind, filling it with rage and hatred and—
Chuuya falls and everything stops with his one last thought:
What are you?!
—and then, there’s nothing.
.
.
It’s gone.
Whatever it was… it’s gone. Together with the pain.
It feels abrupt, like barely a second has passed and now Chuuya is being thrown into the cold
waters of being aware again, but… it’s also so slow how everything reaches Chuuya’s mind.
He’s lying on something soft, his clothes feel light on his skin, every breath fills his lungs
with air that, for once, doesn’t pierce through every nerve like a needle. He’s pleasantly
warm, and there’s a hand resting on his head, a quiet melody welcoming itself into Chuuya’s
ears.
He knows it. He’s heard it before, falling asleep and waking up to it many times, and at his
side there was…
His eyelids feel heavier than ever, trying to turn his head makes him dizzy, and there are no
words slipping out even when Chuuya parts his lips. Gods, he’s so tired, he isn’t sure if he
can actually do it—
“Take it easy, little human.” The hand moves from his hair to his face, warm on his skin as it
cups his cheek. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
It’s not a voice inside his head.
It’s not an echo ringing through his soul.
Chuuya can hear Dazai’s words close and feel his touch. Real. Here.
It’s a slow process of forcing his eyes open, of taking in the dim light that somehow still
manages to blind him when his eyelids reveal the world around him…
“Da… zai?” It comes out rasped, weak, but Chuuya can see how some of the worry melts
from the dark eye that meets him when his vision clears. Not all of it, the kitsune doesn’t
seem relaxed in Chuuya’s exhausted eyes, but there is a shadow of a gentle smile on his lips.
“I’m here.” Dazai leans closer over him, his thumb stroking Chuuya’s cheek as he scans the
boy’s face. His voice is low and quiet, as to not overwhelm the redhead’s exhausted mind and
body. “Are you in any pain?”
…pain?
Ah, right.
There was so, so much of it until just a few moments ago, but… not anymore.
Chuuya shakes his head slowly, white sparkles blurring his vision for a second. “Tired.” His
answer is met with a relieved smile and Dazai’s shoulders relaxing, some of his tails coming
to rest on Chuuya’s body like a soft blanket.
“I’m sure you are.” The fox says, never looking away from the blue eyes. “You can rest. I’ll
be watching over you.”
…watching over him?
Why does Dazai look so concerned?
Using all the strength Chuuya has in himself, he brings his right arm up, trying to reach the
kitsune’s face and feel him under his fingers, but the sight of it makes him frown. There’s
something covering his arm; black, ripped in some places, material and—
Sigma.
Fyodor.
The cave.
That thing—
The memories flood Chuuya’s mind, taking away his breath and finding the last bits of
strength in his body, setting them on fire. His eyes are blown wide, tears starting to pool at
the corners as his other hand flies to his arm.
“Get off!” He cries out instinctively, scratching at the material and his own skin, ignoring the
sting it brings. “Get off! Get off! Get off! Get off! Get—!”
“No, Chuuya, stop—” Dazai’s tails wrap around his wrists, pulling his arms apart and
stopping Chuuya’s desperate attempts at ripping the material off of his skin. The fox then
pulls him up, closing the boy’s thrashing body in a tight, but gentle, embrace. “It’s already
wearing off.” He murmurs, hugging the redhead and stroking his hair to help him calm down.
“It won’t hurt you, it’ll be gone soon. I promise.”
Chuuya isn’t sure if he wants to get away, or to press closer, to run or hide or… “They— he
— that thing—”
“I know, little human.” Letting Chuuya clutch at his clothes and tails, Dazai lowers his voice
into a soothing pur. “But they’re gone now.”
The redhead chokes on a sob, his breathing erratic. “It hurt.”
The fox’s arms tighten around him. “I know.” Warm lips press to the top of his head.
“It hurt so bad.”
“I know it did, my love. But you’re safe here.”
“I—” Another sob shakes Chuuya’s body as the images flash before his eyes, as the memory
of unbearable pain echoes in his mind. “I can’t do it, I can’t! It was too much, hurt too much,
please don’t let it—”
“I won’t, Chuuya.” Dazai’s voice is gentle but firm. “I won’t let it happen again.”
(Is that so?)
“I promise.”
(...is that so?)
Chuuya clings desperately to Dazai’s clothes and his body for a long moment before the fox’s
words manage to calm his mind again. When it happens, the boy goes limp in his hold, letting
the arms around him keep him up as he listens to the steady heartbeat instead of the whispers
inside his head. Dazai is warm, his tails are soft and comforting and… they make Chuuya
feel safe.
Dazai is here. With him.
It’s over, it’s… finally over.
“Where…” The redhead forces his voice out in a whisper. He’s exhausted, but unable to
accept the sleep’s embrace just yet. Maybe, in a way, Chuuya is afraid of falling asleep, of
waking up back in that cave and realising that all of this – Dazai, his tails, his warmth – was
only an illusion. “Where are we?”
He didn’t really look around much before the thing covering his right arm threw his thoughts
into disarray, but from the small glimpses he can catch now, it doesn’t look like any of the
rooms in their house. It’s too small and too cramped with too many things Chuuya doesn’t
recognise.
“Yosano’s house.” Dazai answers. “Or rather, her clinic.”
…right.
Yosano is a doctor.
And she saved his life again, didn’t she?

Chuuya shifts slightly, leaning back and tilting his head to look at the kitsune. He needs to see
him, needs to see his dark eye and ruffled hair, the bandages that shield the real him from the
world but always disappear for Chuuya’s eyes when they’re alone, and… Is that…
Is that a scratch?
“What happened?” The boy frowns, eyes locked on the five red lines stretching across
Dazai’s left cheek and down his neck. He didn’t notice them before, but now that he’s
actually looking, the scratches seem fresh, as if they were made not too long ago.
“It’s nothing, Chibi.” The fox smiles at him, a smirk that borders on teasing and reassuring,
but Chuuya can’t help how the sight makes him worry. Dazai almost never gets injured, and
on the rare occasions when he does – it always heals almost instantly. So how…?
Ignoring the dark material on his arm and the way seeing it makes his insides twist, Chuuya
brings his right hand to the kitsune’s face as Dazai watches him in silence, unmoving. His
fingers hover over the injured skin, careful not to touch it in case it would hurt the fox, but
something about the scratches feels weird. They don't look like animal scratches, they're too
shallow and not wide enough to have been made with claws, and…
Chuuya’s breathing stops and his eyes widen in shock and terror and disbelief, and his heart
sinks . Why do the marks on Dazai’s face match his fingers?
“Don’t worry about it, Chuuya.”
Why does a part of him remember the feeling of cutting skin with his nails?
“It’s nothing—”
“I did that.” Chuuya hears himself breathe out. “I hurt you.” His own words sound foreign to
his ears, throwing his mind into a mess of contradictions and memories that don’t make any
sense, of images and emotions that cannot be his. He shakes his head, his throat dry. “But I
didn’t—”
“Chuuya—”
“I don’t—”
“Chuuya.” Dazai’s fingers wrap around his wrist, keeping his hand from shaking as the fox
guides it to rest on his cheek, and he looks right into the blue irises. “It wasn’t you. It…”
He brings their foreheads together and the boy squeezes his eyes shut before traitorous tears
can escape him again.
“It wasn’t the real you.”
He hurt Dazai.
“You weren’t in control.”

He hurt Dazai.
“I—” Taking a shaky breath, Chuuya tries to wrap his mind around what Dazia is saying, he
tries to believe him but… “I don’t understand.”
How?
When?
Why—?
“It’s okay.” Dazai’s fingers rub gently Chuuya’s wrist, their foreheads still touching. “Me and
Yosano, we’ll explain everything. But for now, I need you to calm down. You’ve been
through enough already.”
Exactly.
He was supposed to be hurt, not Dazai, and especially not by Chuuya.
How did it happen? How did impossible become reality while the redhead wasn’t even
conscious? What in the world would make him do it?
“I’m sorry.” A whisper slips from Chuuya’s lips, an apology that stings with how honest it
rings. Even if he doesn’t understand, even if none of it makes any sense to him, he needs to
let these words out because—
A part of him remembers.
A memory that feels recent but is buried in the deepest corners of Chuuya’s mind. It’s foggy,
blurred – his body moved out of anger at being caged (...caged where?...), of desire to destroy
(...why?...). It hurt, but the pain couldn’t reach him at the time. The feeling of digging his
nails into someone’s (...whose?...) skin, the sight of blood being shed under his fingertips –
Chuuya remembers it, now.
But it seems almost like a lie. A nightmare his mind created out of his suffering. It doesn’t
feel like his own memory, even if it is locked away in his mind.
Dazai releases the hold on his wrist and wraps both of his arms around the boy as Chuuya’s
hand slides down to grip at the fox’s clothes, holding onto what feels familiar instead of
feeling wrong, intruding, foreign.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
There’s a quiet edge to the kitsune’s words, but it’s not directed at the redhead. The only
things that reach Chuuya are comfort and reassurance, not the blame Dazai keeps enclosed
inside himself. Towards himself.
“So don’t apologise.” One of his tails supports Chuuya’s back like a soft cushion when the
fox leans back to look at the boy’s face. “I would much rather see Chibi’s smile.” His weak,
tears–strained smile that Dazai longs to witness one more time, and then a thousand times
more.
Not letting go of the other’s clothes, the boy presses his lips into a thin line. He’s tired,
confused, he feels guilty and lost, but—
“...is that why you braided my hair?”
—despite the storm that has passed his mind in the last few minutes, he did notice.
The earlier struggling and thrashing around has made it a bit messy, but the weight falling
over his left shoulder and the way Dazai’s hand was so careful with stroking his hair didn’t
go unnoticed. It’s loose, as if the fox was too afraid to pull at the strands in case he hurts
Chuuya by accident, but his hair has been carefully brushed – it’s clean, without any blood
sticking to the strands, and doesn’t irritate the boy like it sometimes does after waking up.
The kitsune smirks, relieved at the change of the topic and trailing the braid with the back of
his fingers. “Does Chibi not like it?” The too–evident teasing in Dazai’s voice, so casual and
natural, loosens some of the knots in Chuuya’s body. They’re back, they’re together and…
They both know he likes it.
How could he not?
“I was out for less than a day and you’ve already forgotten what your husband does and
doesn’t like?” Chuuya’s voice is lighter now, even if not fully relaxed yet. “Stupid fox.”
Dazai’s expression also seems to relax at that, the concern in his eye softening into a deep-
rooted fondness. “You married this stupid fox, little human. Did you forget?”
The boy scoffs, the corners of his lips curling up, tired but, in what has felt like forever,
content. “As if. You wouldn’t let me even if I wanted to.”
Leaning back and enjoying the warmth from Dazai’s fur on his back, Chuuya lets his eyes
look over the fox. The soft expression hides the worry and regret, his gentle touches cover the
desperate need to reassure himself that the redhead is here and safe. Truthfully, Dazai hides
all of it well. Very well. But there’s a connection between them that can never be fooled, even
by themselves, a look in the dark eye that can’t be mistaken for anything else other than—
Guilt.
Soul–wrenching and hollowing, quietly daunting and seeping deeper than any smile can
reach guilt.
“You look tired.” The boy says, absentmindedly playing with the hem of Dazai’s kimono. He
knows the kitsune wanted to avoid this conversation, to talk about anything else other than
that, but… there are some emotions Chuuya can’t bear to bottle up. Emotions he can’t bear
seeing Dazai bottle up. “It must have been hard… searching for me.”
//Do you know how many different dimensions and worlds there are out there, human?//
Dazai’s tails halt for a second, his ears slightly lowering over the dark hair, and he hesitates.
“Chuuya, I’m…” But then, the kitsune’s head snaps up as he pulls Chuuya closer again, all of
his tails covering the boy in a protective manner, like a shield made of white fur. He growls,
and the air feels hot as blue sparkles light up all around them at the same time as—
Knock knock.
“I’m coming in.” A familiar voice rings from the other side. “So tune your murderous aura
down a little, okay?”
There wasn’t enough time for Chuuya to actually panic, Dazai did it for him, but the moment
he realises whose voice it is, he knows there is no need to worry. It’s been a while since the
last time they spoke, but the boy remembers this melodic tone and the fluttering hiding
behind it well.
“Overprotective much, aren’t we?” Yosano muses as she slides the door open, arching her
brow at Dazai. It’s not that she doesn’t understand where it’s coming from, but… “Having
you going for my head every time I check up on my patient is going to cause us some
problems, don’t you think?”
Her words make Chuuya grimace, because he can tell it’s not going to be easy. Dazai must
still be on edge from everything that has happened and, if he’s being honest, the redhead
doesn’t like the idea of being left alone with anyone other than the fox right now, either. He
doesn’t want to cause trouble for Yosano, but he needs Dazai to stay close, or at least be in
the same room – somewhere Chuuya can see him. They wouldn’t be here if Dazai didn’t trust
Yosano to some extent, and they are, which makes the boy somewhat guilty about not being
able to trust her fully even after she has saved him twice.
Betrayal, it’s difficult to forget.
Even if it wasn’t Yosano who tricked him, one person’s actions are enough for doubts to start
swirling around in one’s head. But as long as Daazi is here…
“Sorry.” Chuuya offers her an apology because the fox doesn’t seem eager to do so, and she’s
right – he is her patient and they are in her house. At least the kitsune isn’t growling anymore
and the blue flames have disappeared completely. Now, it’s only his gaze that lingers on
Yosano, carefully watching her every move, and his body ready to leap at her with only the
slightest provocation.
The woman’s eyes fall on Chuuya, worried at first as they assess his state, but then she
exhales, clearly relieved. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” A small smile stretches on her lips.
“Does anything hurt?”
…other than his mind and sanity?
“No.” He taps Dazai’s arms to be set free from the embrace, so that he wouldn’t have to
strain his neck just to look at the woman. Reluctantly, the kitsune lets him go and the redhead
moves to sit on the futon more properly, but still within the reach of the fox’s tails.
Yosano watches them in silence, having taken a seat on one of the cushions the boy didn’t
notice before. Dazai’s tails are around him and the kitsune sits just a little bit closer to Yosano
than Chuuya, as if he’s trying to put himself between the two. Which he obviously can’t do,
because she is a doctor here.
“I, em…” Chuuya lowers his head in a small bow. “Thank you for your help. Again.”
Yosano hums, appreciative. “Straighten up, Chuuya, I don’t want you getting dizzy.”
And when the redhead looks up – Yosano’s expression is gentle, with only a shadow of well–
hidden exhaustion cast over her features.
“It’s my job to help others.” She says, glancing at Dazai briefly before looking back at
Chuuya. “I brought you something to eat and drink.” She gestures to the tray placed on the
floor next to her. “And then, we can have a chat.”
Right.
The explanation for… a lot of things.
Although… Dazai doesn’t seem happy about that idea.
“He should rest first.” The fox says, his voice much colder now.
“He should know first.” Yosano immediately answers. “It’s his body, not yours.”
Well, they’re both right.
Not that Chuuya understands much of what’s going on.
“I…” Before Dazai can say anything back, the boy cuts in. “I’ll be fine.” Looking at the
kitsune, he adds… “I just need to eat something, and I’ll be fine.”
His words, at least, Dazai doesn’t fight.
And, as it turns out, Chuuya was way more hungry than he thought. Maybe it’s because of the
fatigue, or the injuries that, even if healed by now, must have taken a toll on his body, but he
eats everything Yosano brought much faster than he usually would. It helps to chase away the
dizziness and makes him more awake, alert. He doesn’t feel as tired as before, though his
body is sore all over and there is this faint fog that keeps clouding his mind. Not enough to be
a bother, but enough to be noticed—
Again. It must be the fatigue.

“Right.” Yosano clears her throat as a dozen blue and black butterflies take the tray away
once Chuuya is done eating “Before we start, I have to ask…” Her eyes lock with Chuuya’s,
more serious than ever and sending a shiver down the boy’s spine. “How straightforward do
you want me to be?”
The boy’s brows knit together. The question is a surprise to him, because why would she—
“Because it’s not pretty.” The woman seems to read his mind, or maybe his confusion was
just that obvious? “And it won’t be easy, either.”
For once, Dazai stays silent as he lets Chuuya choose for himself.
…is that a good or a bad sign?
But he doesn’t need to think about it for long. “Just tell me everything.” Because as Yosano
said – he should know, whatever it is that he’s about to be told.
The woman nods. “Well, then. How much of what was done to you do you remember?”
A shiver runs down Chuuya’s spine. “I remember…” He wants to curl in on himself at the
memory, but he won’t. He chose to have this conversation and he won’t run away from it.
“...something hurting me.” Hurting him everywhere. Over and over again. “It was like a
flame maybe? And then it tried to get inside and…” And it was too much. “...I tried to get it
off, but it didn’t work. The rest is just pain and darkness, and then waking up here.”
One of Dazai’s tails lies right behind Chuuya, grounding him with the comforting warmth.
The only reason why the redhead can talk about it is because Dazai is here, because he knows
he’s safe. It’s not pleasant to be reliving these things in his mind, but Chuuya knows it’s
necessary, and he’d rather do it quick and then never talk about it ever again.
“I see.” Yosano hums, considering her next words. “Well, then let me start with this: that
thing you speak of, it didn’t simply try, it did manage to get inside of you. Both body– and
soul–wise, and…” Something in her eyes darkens. “...it’s still in there.”
At that, Chuuya’s heart halts, his eyes blown wide and lips pressed into a thin line.
A part of him expected, or rather feared, that would be the case. He feared it wouldn’t be the
end of it, but at the same time Chuuya hoped it wouldn’t be true. Because it doesn’t hurt
anymore. Because he feels fine now, and he never wants to go back to… that.
“You were on the verge of dying when Dazai brought you here.” Chuuya shivers again, but
doesn’t say anything. “I healed your body the best I could, but I can’t guarantee that thing
won’t try to set itself free again.”
Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t, please—
“...do you know what it is?” The boy whispers, feeling his blood run cold and his throat dry.
“I have a pretty good guess, unfortunately.”

“...unfortunately?”
“It’s not something I thought I’d ever see.” Yosano’s brows furrow slightly and her voice lips
twitch in a grimace. “Nor did I want to see it.”
Dazai doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. His gaze lingers more on Chuuya than on Yosano,
and the boy feels like the fox is watching out for a sign to stop the conversation.
“I’m not sure how many of our world’s rules Dazai explained to you, so I’ll make it brief.”
The gold butterfly in her hair seems to flutter its wings when the woman shifts in her seat,
getting more comfortable.
“We, yōkai, tend to refer only to humans as ‘mortals’ due to your relatively short lifespan
when compared to ours, but that’s not completely accurate. Everything that is born to this
world can, but doesn’t have to, die. There are no exemptions to this rule.”
Now, it’s Chuuya’s time to frown. He looks between the other two, confused. “Okay?”
In a way, what Yosano said makes sense, so he’s not going to question her. Ultimately, it’s
easier to imagine it being true, rather than imagining someone staying alive forever no matter
what. Two years ago, Chuuya wouldn’t even be able to imagine someone staying alive for
centuries, let alone a whole eternity.
“However, it works differently in each case.” Yosano continues. “Humans can, in some cases,
stay behind as ghosts, but they tend to move on most of the time.”
Yes, Chuuya knows that.
Better than he’d like to.
“Most spirits and demons don’t get to make that choice, though. They are usually
reincarnated immediately, or they are forced to move on. All in all, everyone has more than
one option, even if it’s not always up to them to decide which one it will be.”
In the quietness of the room, her voice rings loud. It’s not intimidating, but it makes a part of
Chuuya stir uncomfortably.
“Everyone except gods.”
Something in the way she says it, makes Chuuya unable to speak, or move, or do anything
other than listen.
“It doesn’t happen often, it hasn’t happened in the last few centuries at all, but gods can and
do die, for various reasons that aren’t significant here. The gods that rule now aren’t the same
ones that ruled millennia ago, and they most likely won’t be around millenia from now. But
they don’t reincarnate, they aren’t reborn, they don’t stay behind. When a god dies, they
perish from existence. Completely.”
That’s… difficult to imagine, yes, but most of all – sad. Unfair, even. To be the only ones that
aren’t allowed a second chance, that aren’t allowed to last, in one way or another.
But Yosano doesn’t let Chuuya dwell on it for too long. “Or so should be the case.” She says,
running a hand through her hair. “It has always been the case, as far as everyone alive is
aware of, present gods included, but… There are legends spread among demons, much like
among humans – only, ours talk about what has happened much further into the past. About
gods older than any other life, gods that roamed none and all the dimensions at the same
time. They’ve been gone long enough to be considered only that – legends. Stories told by
those who’ve lost their mind.”
Here, Yosano’s face twists uncomfortably, her lips twitching around a tired, and somewhat
annoyed, smirk.
“And some of them say that the first gods never completely perished, that they left behind an
essence of themselves scattered around all the worlds and universes, refusing Fate its due.”
…okay?
Or maybe not?
“Are you trying to say…”
Every word is a struggle, because Chuuya’s throat feels tight and his mind is racing with all
the new information, trying to piece the facts together. Just listening to all of that makes him,
for whatever reason, uncomfortable and uneasy on the inside. He thought he wouldn’t mind,
but… a part of him doesn’t like these stories.
A part of him is angry when he listens to them.
It’s only a tiny tingling sensation in the back of his head, or heart, easily silenced and
ignored, but it’s strange to know that it is there. He has always been fine with listening to
Dazai’s stories and some of them were about gods, but this is different.
This feels wrong.
And right.
Mistaken.
Correct.
Infuriating.
Unfair—
“...they put a god inside of me?”
“Not exactly.” Yosano sighs. “They put what was left by a god inside of you. This thing
doesn’t have a soul anymore, it doesn't know what it is.”
Disrespectful.
Insolent.
Shut up—
Huh?
Ah, Yosano can be really confusing sometimes, but Chuuya ignores the faint headache and
focuses on what the woman has to say.
“It’s not alive.” She says. “It’s only some of the older god’s power, the essence of what they
used to be. Without consciousness, or memories, or will of its own.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up—
Chuuya blinks a few times, shaking himself out of… confusion? Surprise? Denial?
It doesn’t seem real, that’s for sure.
But it does.
No.
“...is that a good or a bad thing?” The redhead asks.
Bad.
Everything until now has been new to him, it’s a lot to take in at once and the thought of
having something dead inside of him is slightly terrifying, but it could have been worse,
right?
Good. Good. Good.
It doesn’t hurt anymore, he’s calm.
He’s finally free—
Bad.
Good—
Yosano studies him for a second, looking over every smallest move with unwavering eyes,
and it makes Chuuya feel exposed, bordering on uncomfortable. But she’s a doctor, this is
what she does.
“Bad.” She says after a long pause. “If it was alive, we could have negotiated with it to have
it leave your body on its own, but like this, we can’t.”
“...can you take it out?” Chuuya hears himself ask – curious, or hopeful?
Please, please—
No.
“Not without killing you in the process, no.”
Chuuya’s hands clench into fists, his breath catching in his throat. He expected there to be
complications, Yosano said it wouldn’t be easy, but he didn’t expect getting rid of himself
would be impossible after all the trouble he went through to secure this body—
Getting rid of it.
After he fought to protect himself.
Focus. He needs to focus.
"...why?"
Yosano shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her brows furrowing in something akin to disgust.
"Because by the time you got here, that thing managed to destroy a small part of your soul
and replace the gap with itself, effectively merging with you in the process..."
Dazai's tails stir at her words, his gaze turning colder despite how he continues to stay quiet.
"...and ripping it out means certain death."
Maybe his questions are desperate, maybe they're foolish, but what else does Chuuya have
left?
"How do you know that?"
If it’s the first time something like this has happened, if Yosano has never seen anything like
this… maybe there’s a way they don’t know yet. Maybe she can be wrong about this—
But she doesn’t look hesitant.
"It's not exactly the same, because it works more like a parasite rather than a mutual relation,
but at the basics of it, it works similarly to the bond between you and Dazai. Two souls linked
together. It cannot be severed."
Chuuya’s face twists to mirror Yosano’s expression, everything in him feeling outraged at the
thought that someone – some thing – would dare to come close to what’s between him and
Dazai. What they have, it’s meant to be special.
It’s meant to be only them.
And now there is something else, something that doesn’t belong here.
He needs to get rid of D—

“Which is why we won’t try it.” Yosano continues, and she doesn’t look away from the
redhead anymore, not even for a second do her eyes stray away from his face.
At his side, Dazai’s body is stiff as the fox’s eye lingers on the woman longer now. His face
doesn’t show anything, but Chuuya can feel a quiet growl ringing in his heart, a familiar
sound. It doesn’t feel angry, only frustrated. He knows it’s what Dazai is hiding, his true
emotions, and despite how the growl pierces through him like a cold needle, it’s not exactly
unpleasant.
Get out.
Stay.
“So I’ll have to live with it?” Chuuya breathes out, disbelief painting his voice with a hint of
hysterical laughter. “Forever? But what if—”
“That’s the hard part.” Yosano cuts him off, shaking her head. “You can’t live with it.”
…what?
“Your body won’t be able to withstand it in the long term, the only reason why you’re still
alive is because of the blessings keeping your… everything together.”
If only he can break them and set himself free—
“...I’m going to die?”
YES—
“No.” It’s Dazai who answers him, the fox speaking up for the first time ever since Yosano
started to explain the situation to Chuuya. There’s no hesitation in his voice, a single word
ringing clearly and firmly between them, but…
It’s only an arrogant fox’s wishful lie.
It’s the reassurance Chuuya needs.
It’s a disrespectful child’s ignorance.
But how can he be so sure?
He can’t.
But he is.
He’s lying—
SHUT UP!
“...Chuuya?”
The boy looks up at the kitsune staring at him with a furrowed brow. “What?” He says
weakly, still processing what Yosano told him and leaning into every brush of Dazai’s tails
that have moved closer at some point.
The concern doesn’t fade from the fox’s face as he brings a hand to Chuuya’s cheek, his
fingers soothingly cold on the heated skin. “...are you okay?” Dazai asks, searching his face.
“I…”
Isn’t it a weird thing to ask now?
Although… For a split second that he thinks about it, his mind seems surprisingly calm –
satisfied, even – but then…
“...I’m going to die?”
It dawns on him.
Of course, he’s not fine.
His body won’t last and they can’t take this thing out. Dazai may say whatever he wants, but
it’s Yosano who knows better and she hasn’t said anything yet. Hasn’t offered any sort of
reassurance that would actually hold true. How could he ever be fine with something like
this?!
Chuuya turns his head to look at the woman and finds her staring at him with a somewhat
bewildered expression and wide eyes, as if the redhead has done something strange,
something she didn’t expect.
But then it’s gone.
Concern and surprise smoothed into neutral professionalism.
“...it’s going to happen gradually.” She says, glancing at Dazai, who also sends her a quiet
look, but doesn’t speak up again, as if his previous answer was just instinctual. Like he had to
say it, no matter what he believes to be the truth.
The kitsune seems too occupied with keeping an eye on the redhead, searching his face for…
Chuuya doesn’t know for what, but it’s making his stomach twist.
“Fatigue and exhaustion at first. Then, your body will start to reject the power stored inside
of it just like your soul is doing right now. It will start to break down – slowly at first, then
more and more with each day – because it won’t be able to contain it. I can heal the physical
damage, but it will keep coming back no matter what I do, until you reach the same state you
were in when Dazai brought you here.”
Pain.
Agony.
He’s going to go through that again.
“That thing will keep you alive for a while in order to…” Yosano grimaces. “...make space
for itself.”
His rightful place—
“Make space…?” Chuuya hears himself ask.
“It will try to destroy your soul completely and replace it with itself, which will essentially
erase you from existence – much like what happens when a normal god dies – and only leave
your body for itself to use.”
He’ll be gone. As if he never existed.
Forgotten, never getting to meet the people he loves.
He’ll serve his purpose—
“Or…” Yosano draws out. “It will try to merge with your soul somehow, almost certainly
killing you and itself.”
No.
NO!
"But that’s not everything."
Chuuya chuckles darkly, because all of it feels like a bad, cruel joke. “Of course, it’s not.” He
feels detached. The more Yosano tells him about what’s to come, the more Chuuya gets
confused – not with what she’s saying, but with himself.
He should be terrified, he should be angry and frustrated, and he does feel all of that in his
heart. There is a storm of violent emotions swirling inside of him, his body tenses at every
mention of having to experience the feeling of being ripped to shreds again. Screams, tears,
curses – everything wants to escape, but none of it does.
There’s a thick fog muffling what Chuuya is feeling, a cloud that remains eerily calm. Like
this is how things are meant to be, like everything is perfect, and Chuuya doesn’t need to
fight it, only accept it.
He knows it’s wrong.
It’s not—
The redhead tries to rationalise it with denial, with having Dazai close and being soothed by
his presence after feeling alone in his suffering.
He doesn’t need any of it—

Or maybe he’s too tired to fully acknowledge what has happened, what is about to become
his reality, and maybe that’s why he’s not disturbed.
He should just accept it.
JUST GIVE UP—
“...your mind.”
Huh?
Ah, he spaced out.
“What?” Chuuya blinks, focusing on Yosano’s words again. “I’m sorry, could you repeat
that?”
The woman narrows her eyes at him, suspicion dancing in her eyes. “Are you sure you’re
okay?”
“I am, I’m … sorry.” The redhead tries to smile, tries to seem like he’s not having a war with
his own thoughts on the inside. “It’s just a lot.”
“...right.” The way she draws it out, slow and as if she’s waiting for something to happen,
haunts Chuuya. “I said it’s possible that this thing is going to mess with your mind.”
…great.
He has a headache already, he really doesn’t need anything more.
“How?” Chuuya asks, brows furrowed. “You said it’s dead.”
“Because it is.”
How dare you—
“It can’t think on its own, it doesn’t have a consciousness, but it can make you… feel things.”
Like what?!
“The first gods were different from the present ones, they were the embodiment of different
aspects of the world – of abstract concepts, sensations, feelings. Of chaos and calm itself, of
everything that has been woven into the fabrics of the world ever since their reign.”
They were the world—
“What Fyodor put inside of you is the purest form of the desire to destroy. Hatred,
resentment… None of it has a purpose, it doesn’t seek anything specific, but it latches onto
even the smallest seeds of negative thoughts you may harbour, amplifying them to their limits
and twisting into something else. To the point where you won’t feel like yourself anymore.”
Then, Yosano glances at Dazai, and Chuuya remembers the scratches on the kitsune’s face,
how the fox said it wasn’t the real him—
“It may make you do the things you would never think of doing before.”
—a few hours prior—
“Chuuya?”
Caught off–guard, Dazai doesn’t notice something is wrong until he turns back to look at the
redhead, and instead of a pair of clear blue eyes, he sees white orbs over a twisted smirk—
And then, there is a cutting sting on his cheek.
“What the—” Yosano jumps from her seat, leaping to Dazai’s side, but Chuuya’s nails have
already left long marks on the kitsune’s skin by the time she helps to restrain the human.
Tails and hands keep the redhead down and it doesn’t feel like the boy is putting any effort
into struggling. His eyes are mindless, his grin sharp with madness and the desire to rip
everything into pieces, wild. There are faint marks that seem to slither under his skin, barely
noticeable and fleeting before settling into place. The sudden movement made most of the
small butterflies disappear into glistening dust, which has left Chuuya’s body vulnerable and
the wounds free to scar his body again.
But the boy doesn’t seem to notice. There’s no pain on his face, only insane satisfaction and
no traces of the human Dazai knows. And he’s silent, as if not even a single breath could
escape him, only staring up at them with the same, empty gaze…
“Chuuya—!”
“Don’t bother.” Yosano’s brows are furrowed as she stares down at Chuuya. “I doubt it will
work.” She only fights with her ideas for a second, thinking over whether they have the time
to prepare better or not – to act now, or wait and risk… “Ranpo, get me the bag from the
bottom left drawer, and you—”
She glares at Dazai from the corner of her eyes when Ranpo jumps from his seat.
“—do exactly what I say.”
It ends up being a mixture of the spells Dazai has learnt over the years, the seals and locks
he’s a master of, and Yosano’s knowledge of dealing with curses that infect people’s minds.
It’s not perfect, it needs time to fully embed itself into Chuuya’s soul and they can’t be sure
whether it’ll actually prove to be efficient, but it puts whatever has taken over the redhead to
sleep. For now, that’s enough.
It’s only once the boy lies unmoving on the futon again, his eyes closed, that Yosano looks at
the fox better and…
“It’s not healing.” Her brows climb high. “Have you drained your power completely?”
Dazai’s fingers trail the red marks, blood painting his fingertips. “No.” The touch stings, but
only faintly. “It should be closing up already.” But it isn’t.
Even the injuries Fyodor inflicted on him have already closed up, and those were infected
with raw energy that no human could ever even begin to dream about. Dazai can will his
body to accept scratches or marks Chuuya leaves on him if he wants to, but he isn’t trying to
do so right now, which means…
Which means those are not of human origin. Not really.
Even if it was Chuuya’s hand… the force behind it wasn’t his.
Yosano looks over the long lines carefully, her eyes narrowing as she studies the torn skin.
“...let me try.” She’s dealt with worse in the past, this isn’t anything new—
And yet, the moment any of the butterflies touches the scratches, it disappears immediately.
Without having healed anything.
“...I think you should make more of those collars before he wakes up.” The woman says
eventually, disbelief tainting her voice and eyes. “Just in case.”
—present time—
—or was it?
Which one is the real Chuuya?
…why would there be more than one?
Straightening her back, Yosano takes a deep breath. “That’s what that is for.” She quirks a
brow, her gaze falling somewhere below Chuuya’s face for a moment.
When the redhead brings his hand to his neck, confused as to what she’s talking about, he
feels… not his skin. “What…?” He didn’t notice it before, even now as he can clearly feels
the fabric under his fingertips, there is no sensation left by the material on his neck. Like it’s
not really there.
It’s silky soft, delicate.
Get it off!
What is it?
“Here.” Yosano offers him a small, round mirror, and when Chuuya looks at himself in it, he
sees a black line circling his throat. Plain and thin as a ribbon, but it’s not tied anywhere,
almost as if it was made around his neck i n the first place.
But that’s not right.
GET IT OFF!
“Don’t worry, Chuuya. It’s mine.” It’s Dazai’s words that bring him out of his confusion. The
fox covers Chuuya’s hand with his own and guides it away from the black… can it be called
a necklace? Or just a ribbon?
And when did Chuuya start hooking his fingers at it?
Trying to rip it off?
“That thing resides mostly around your heart.” Dazai explains, gently stroking Chuuya’s
wrist to keep the both of them calm. “And this keeps it out of your head.”
You insolent child—
Hearing it lets Chuuya relax.
Just wait—
“But if you start feeling something trying to get into your mind.” Dazai locks their eyes
together, more serious. “Anything at all. You have to tell me.”
Tell him.
Shut up—
Help me.
Don’t say a word—
It feels wrong.
It feels right—
“I was just told I’m going to die no matter what I do!”
Please.
SHUT UP—
A breath in.
“But I’m fine.” The boy hears himself say, feels himself… believe it. “Just tired and...”
A breath out.
"...overwhelmed.”
As the last word slips past his lips and the fox seems to accept it, Chuuya feels something in
himself relax, the ringing in his ears quieter now. They stare at each other with Dazai for a
moment before Yosano clears her throat, drawing their attention to her again.
“Right, so…”
She scans Chuuya one last time, taking in all the small signs of fatigue the boy has been
suppressing and the torn, clouded look in his eyes.
“That’s all we know at the moment, the tests may help us understand more, but I’d rather
have you fully rested, physically and mentally, before we start, so we’ll leave that for
tomorrow.”
A part of Chuuya appreciates it.
Another part starts stressing because—
What kind of tests? Will they hurt? Will they help?
What if they make it worse unintentionally?
How dare they—
“Dazai will stay with you here.” Yosano says, getting up from the cushion. “If there’s
anything you need, he knows how to contact me. But I must insist: you have to stay inside
this room at all times for now.”
Chuuya frowns. “Why?” It’s not like he was planning on going anywhere, but being told
something like that feels odd. He doesn’t like sitting in a cage, no matter how pretty.
So let him OUT—
A grimace forms on Yosano's face as she straightens out her kimono. “To keep you and
everyone else safe.”
…from what?
From Chuuya?
Of course—
But why?
“Don’t get me wrong, lad.” The woman offers an apologetic smile to soothe the faint betrayal
painting itself on Chuuya’s face. “To put it simple: that thing…” She points at his chest. “...is
the reason why I’ve been so busy lately. Its presence has been making demons go crazy by
simply existing so close to our world, gathered all together for the first time in eternity, and I
need to make sure the spell is sealing it completely before I let you out.”
The redhead’s shoulders sag. “I’m sorry…” He knows he can’t control it, but being a threat
by simply existing makes him feel… unwanted.
“It’s not your fault.” Yosano reassures him. “But I’m responsible for looking after all my
patients and I need to make sure it’s safe for them, or anyone else for that matter, to be
allowed near you.”
Dazai’s eye twitches at the mention of people coming closer, and Chuuya can once again hear
the distant growl resonating inside his soul. But…
“How are you fine, then?” The boy asks, looking between the two. “You seem… fine.”
“It was much more dangerous while out in the world.” Stepping to the door, Yosano rests her
hand on the wood, and she turns to look at them over her shoulder. “While it’s contained in
your body, it’s easy to overcome its influence if you’re strong enough.” A sigh.
“Unfortunately, weaker demons may still be affected, so bear with it for the time being.
Please.” With one last smile at Chuuya and a gaze lingering on Dazai for a long second,
Yosano leaves.
It’s only the two of them now.
The three of them—
“...what are you thinking?” Chuuya mutters, wrapping his arms around himself and glancing
at the fox.
“Many things. None pretty.” Dazai’s tails move to wrap around the boy as the fox offers him
a small smile. “You’ve been very calm about this.
‘Are you hiding your true feelings again?’ Rings between his words. ‘Are you hiding from
me?’
Yes. No.
Not by choice—
“What else can I do?” Chuuya’s smirk is grim, his eyes without a single sparkle of light in
them. “Will it help if I start screaming?”
“...”
“Or maybe cry? It’s been so long since the last time I did that, hasn’t it? Maybe—”
Anger. It’s starting to burn again.
Frustration. It’s starting to consume him now that Yosano isn’t here to witness it. It wants to
escape him, all of it. Set itself free and roam freely.
…but letting it out on Dazai won’t change anything. It will only make Chuuya feel worse
afterwards.
Squeezing his eyes shut and bringing a hand to his face, massaging his temples, Chuuya
pushes the violent thoughts away. He doesn’t want to feed that thing more than he already is,
because if what Yosano said is true… He will have to stay calm. He will have to avoid anger,
and hatred, and—
Let it burn—
“He said something.” Chuuya mutters. “That other kitsune, he said something about someone
else being behind it. He didn’t say who it was, but what if they come after me—”
“I know.” Dazai stops him, his hand resting on top of Chuuya’s head and sliding down along
the braid.
“You know who…?”
The fox shakes his head. “Not that, no. But I know it wasn’t Dostoyevsky’s plan. There isn’t
anything in it for him.”
“What do we do, then?”
“You are going to rest.” Dazai says, one of his tails pulling the comforter up from the futon
for Chuuya to make it easier to lie down. “And I will deal with it.” But the redhead doesn’t
move.
He’s staring at the other, lips pressed together. Logically speaking, Chuuya knows Dazai is
being reasonable. With this thing – a god, a corpse, or whatever – inside of him, he’s like a
ticking bomb, and as a human, he wouldn’t be able to help even if he wasn’t coming closer
and closer to dying with every passing second.
Just let him fight—
But logic isn’t what Chuuya is looking for right now, it doesn’t have a place among all of the
events from the last day.
LET HIM KILL—
“How?” The redhead insists.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll find a way.” The honesty in that statement almost hurts, making
Chuuya want to squirm with how everything the fox says sounds like baseless reassurance.
He wants to believe him, he wants to believe it’s over now, but—
“And if you don’t?”
—but life is not that easy. For him, it never has been.
“Chuuya--”
“Does it even matter?” The boy continues, suddenly not even interested in what Dazai may
have to say and only focused on his own spiralling thoughts. “I’ll either die fast, or I’ll be
dragging it out and die later.”
He’s given up.
He’s in denial.
“What difference does it—”
“No.” The fox cuts him off, holding Chuuya’s face between his hands. “No, these are not the
only options, I won’t let them be. I’ll figure something out.”
Chuuya’s lips tremble. “You can’t promise that. Even Yosano–sensei said—”
“That she doesn’t know everything.” Dazai finishes for him, well aware that these are not the
words that were on Chuuya’s tongue. “There must be a way, and I promise I’ll find it. No
matter what.”
“...”
He wants to believe Dazai, he really does, but it’s difficult. What came to Chuuya as easy as
breathing before is now like a fight he doesn’t know how to win. And he’s too tired to even
try. “...are you going to leave?”
Leave, leave, LEAVE—
Don’t.
Dazai’s expression softens, his ears lowering over the dark hair. “No.” He brings their
foreheads together. “I’m going to stay here with you, so you can rest without worrying about
a single thing.”
Without worrying, huh?
It’s almost laughable, because is it even possible anymore for Chuuya not to worry about…
well, everything?
“You’re tired, little human.” Dazai soothes. “Our spells are still taking root.” Chuuya lets out
a low groan. The way the fox describes what is happening to his body doesn’t sit well with
him. “It will feel better tomorrow.”
Will it?
Can anything make him feel better at this point?
He’s tired.
So, so, so tired.
And overwhelmed.
His emotions are a mess Chuuya can’t control, the ringing in his ears and the fog in his mind
growing stronger the more he thinks about it, his body slowly starting to ache all over as
soreness seeps into his bones and the softness of the pillow meets his head. His eyelids feel
heavy all of a sudden, there’s no strength left in him to fight.
“Rest, Chuuya.”
Maybe he should.
Maybe he will wake up tomorrow and everything will be fine. Maybe he’ll realise it was only
a long, bad nightmare, and that there is nothing to worry about.
…too bad Chuuya doesn't dream.
Chapter End Notes
A quick explanation to make sure everyone understands: the lines that are on the right
AREN’T Arahabaki’s words, they are CHUUYA’S thoughts that were INFLUENCED
BY Arahabaki’s essence. So even if it seems like there are two people having conflicting
opinions, it’s just our poor baby getting his mind corrupted and losing it slowly :’)
Kind of like: Yosano says something about gods - - > Chuuya thinks ‘oh that’s sad’ - - >
Arahabaki’s essence amplifies ‘sad’ to ‘unfair’ to ‘wrong’ to ‘hate’ etc
In this AU, Baki does NOT have a mind of his own anymore :)
Anyway~~~
We're in for a long ride :')
Family
Chapter Notes
“Don’t move.”
Furrowing his brows in concentration, Sigma focuses on wrapping the bandages around
Nikolai’s head, careful not to press on the wounds too much. He bites the inside of his lower
lip to silence his racing thoughts and steady his hands. The last thing Sigma wants to do is to
hurt Nikolai even more by mistake but the cat’s white ears twitching every now and then are
not only distracting, but also extremely unhelpful and seemingly unhappy with the bandages
obstructing their movements.
“But Sigma–kun…” Nikolai tries to chirp, to sound his usual playful and teasing self, but it
comes out weak when the man can barely fight to stay awake, let alone put up an act of being
fine.
“No buts.” The boy cuts him off, his throat tight. “Just stay still.”
For once, the cat obeys.
Sigma can’t be sure if it’s because of his injuries and blood loss, or sheer exhaustion, or
because he can sense how desperate Sigma feels and wants to comfort him by doing the least
he can. But it doesn’t matter. The bandages cover Nikolai’s right eye and his forehead,
partially covering the wound across his left eye as well, one that will definitely leave a scar
once it closes up. His left eye was, surprisingly, not injured, which brings the boy at least
some relief about the whole situation. Not much, but it’s something.
Before, he was grateful for the sole fact that they’re all alive, and it’s only now that Sigma’s
mind has found the strength to worry about how being alive doesn’t mean they’re fine.
The cat was still passed out when they got here – wherever ‘here’ even is, because it’s not
their house, not the one the boy knows – but once Sigma got to treating his injuries, the pain
must have pulled him out of it. It’s mostly his face that was hurt badly, the rest are only
simple scratches and bruises that will likely heal in the next few hours or so, as the bakeneko
regains his strength. But his right eye…
Apparently, there is a doctor who would be able to help them if they got to them fast enough,
the one that doesn’t take sides and whose clinic is open to everyone, but going there would be
dangerous. Because while the doctor may be as neutral as one can be – Dazai isn’t, and he
must be there now, with Chuuya.
They did what they could, according to Fyodor, but it’s a lost cause. The fight with the
Akutagawa siblings came with the last rays of light that Nikolai’s right eye would see – his
sight, it’s gone.
“Done.” The boy whispers, more to himself than to the bakeneko, who’s starting to doze off
again as the medicine the kitsune gave him before begins to take root.
“Mmm~” Purring quietly, Nikolai lets Sigma help him lie down on the futon, which earns the
boy a whine when the cat’s head meets the pillow, and pull the comforter over his body.
It’s only a matter of second before the man’s breathing evens out again as sleep and medicine
take away his consciousness and his body starts to heal itself. Gently, Sigma gathers Nikolai’s
hair to one side, untying the ribbon at the end of the long braid and untangling the strands.
There’s still more blood and smaller knots in it, they’ll have to wash and comb it once
Nikolai has rested enough.
For now, though, Sigma lets the cat’s sleep remain undisturbed, peaceful. He presses his lips
into a thin line as he looks at the other, his heart filling with guilt and worry and—
But he can’t think about it.
Not now.
Not yet.
There is still something Sigma must do, he can’t let himself drown in his helplessness until
it’s done.
He squeezes Nikolai’s hand one last time, his expression softening when the cat purrs quietly
in his sleep, before standing up and turning around to look at—
Fyodor, who has both of his hands bleeding badly, one arm clearly broken and the other…
probably too. Fyodor, who saved Sigma and Nikolai from certain death and was then insistent
on treating Nikolai’s injuries first before paying any attention to his own.
“...” The boy’s heart clenches at the sight, but he forces the words out, taking a step towards
the kitsune. “Fyodor–sama, let me—”
“No need.” The fox sighs, his eyes closed. He’s sitting by the wall, right under the small
window, his tails unmoving on the floor around him and ears lowered tiredly over his hair. He
hasn’t even changed, his clothes are ripped and bloodied in several places, dirty…
Sigma frowns, his hands gripping at the sides of his kimono – a clean one, the one that
Fyodor had waiting for him here before they even came to this house. “You’re hurt. “ He
bends down to pick up the bandages, medicine… “We should treat your wou—”
“They’ll heal on their own.”
“But—”
“You should rest.” Fyodor’s tone isn’t strict, merely tired and drifting off the same way his
thoughts seem to do. He was focused on the other two before, making sure their lives weren't
in danger, but once Nikolai was stable – he let the boy take care of the rest. “You’ve been
through a lot.”
Sigma’s frown only deepens as he stares at the fox, his hands shaking slightly, frustrated.
“I’m fine.” He’s the only one who is fine, isn’t he? “Just let me—”
“Your mind cannot be fine, human. Not after that.” Another sigh. “You should—”
“NO!”
Sigma’s voice rings loud in the room, startling even himself, and it’s a miracle that Nikolai
doesn’t wake up at the sound of it. It makes Fyodor’s eyes snap open in surprise and his ears
perk up, alert. The kitsune looks surprised, rightfully so, and he’s about to say something but
—
“No.” Sigma repeats, quieter, as he walks closer. “I will not rest, and I will not listen to you,
and I will treat your wounds. You don’t get a say in this.”
The boy kneels down in front of the kitsune, not looking at the fox whose wide eyes never
leave his face and whose expression is that of genuine surprise.
“You won’t be bleeding out and simply waiting for it to heal itself. I won’t let you.”
His voice is shaking, and so are his hands, but Sigma still rolls up Fyodor’s sleeves carefully,
exposing the extent of his injuries to his eyes.
“You’re not allowed to get hurt and then claim it’s fine.”
He needs to be very careful about cleaning the wound around the ripped skin and the bruises
forming under it, or he’s going to make it worse.
(Is that a black tattoo around Fyodor’s wrist? Is that a—?)
“You…” The boy takes a shaky breath, his eyes burning with the unspilled tears of
frustration. “You don’t get to protect me and get injured, and then tell me to rest while you’re
—” Hurt. In pain. Never thinking of himself. “—while you’re bleeding!”
There’s silence for a second, only Sigma’s quick heartbeat and breathing ringing through the
air, but then…
“...why?”
It’s merely a single word, but the way Fyodor seems to breathe it out, confused and uncertain
the way Sigma has never heard him, the boy’s patience runs thin.
“Because that’s not what family does!”
His head snaps up, voice burning in his throat. He’s met with Fyodor’s wide eyes and slightly
raised brows. With surprise and bewilderment and realisation slowly settling among the fox’s
stoic features.
“Because that’s…” It’s weaker now, quieter. “Because I’m worried.” Tears are falling freely
from the grey eyes now, Sigma’s lips trembling as his words come out more like choked up
sobs, rather than muffled screams, but the boy can’t stop them. “Because you got hurt
because of me, and I’m not fine with this! And—and because you’re always like… like this!”
“Sig—”
“You always look out for me when you think I can’t see it, and you always help me without
saying anything, and then you never ask me for help, or for anything in return, and I— and
—”
A warm feeling on his cheek makes Sigma stop, the feeling of soft fur brushing the tears
away makes Sigma’s eyes widen, his breathing heavy after the wave of emotions that has
washed over his body just now.
“That’s enough.” Fyodor’s eyes are warm among the almost sickly pale skin, his smile
delicately blooming on his lips. “I understand.”
And then, the impossible happens.
“I’m sorry.” The fox whispers, barely audible.
But Sigma hears it. The boy’s mouth hangs open for a second, not a single sound escaping
him. Then, his lips press together as he sniffles, feeling some of the tension leave his body.
“...you better be.” He murmurs, focusing back on bandaging Fyodor’s arms while the
kitsune’s tails rub his back in gentle, reassuring circles.
(And if a few steps away from them, on the futon, Nikolai’s lips curl up into a relieved smile,
neither of them notices. ‘Finally’, is what one cat would like to say, but he’ll settle on
keeping it in his thoughts for a bit longer…)
Family, huh?
With his back leaning on the chill wood and Sigma’s head resting in his thigh as the boy
sleeps after passing out from all the emotions and events of the day. His tails shield the
human from the cold as Fyodor lets that one word sink into his mind among the silence of the
room.
Family. He has never called them that. Not Nikolai, not Sigma.
Is that what they are to him?
Is this what family is supposed to feel like?

Maybe, but… Fyodor wouldn’t know. It’s been so long since the last time he had anyone to
call that, since the time he ‘lost’ the one and only person who had ever cared about him.
Sometimes, he wonders how everything would have turned out if that day never happened.
It’s pointless thinking and long–lost possibilities, but they’re tempting him with the song his
heart hasn’t sung in ages, ever so often. Family – he knew what it meant, once, but after
centuries of walking the world alone he’s forgotten it, left it in the past with the ghosts of his
old life.
…until now.
He came across Nikolai a few decades ago and, after the kitsune said he didn’t care either
way, the cat stuck around for a reason Fyodor couldn’t understand. It was just the two of
them for years; strangers turned into acquaintances, then into something else, and then –
Sigma came along, inviting himself into their lives without even a single spark of fear. Soft
laughter filled the chaotic days, the sound of a gentle heartbeat filled the silent ones.
Maybe they are his family, but it’s different from what Fyodor remembers.
There’s more to it.
His hand rests on Sigma’s head, fingers tangled into the long hair, and his eyes dart to the
bakeneko sleeping on the futon.
It hurts, somewhere deep down. Nikolai was never meant to get injured this badly, Sigma
wasn’t supposed to feel like this, guilty, pushed to the limit. Fyodor said he’d protect them
and… he failed.
And he’s the only one to blame for it.
Not Dazai, not his servants – Fyodor isn’t unreasonable, or stupid. He knew capturing
Dazai’s husband would have the kitsune enraged, rightfully so. He knew it would come to a
fight and that there would be nothing Dazai wouldn’t do to win. Fyodor understands him,
because he would do the same.
So, no.
Dazai isn't to blame, no matter how brightly hatred burned in the dark fox’s chest at the sight
of the other kitsune leaping at Sigma nad Nikolai. Fyodor could say it’s because of that
damned crystal and an ancient god’s essence – something that doesn’t have a place in the
world – that it's’ because of that person and his debt to him, but—
That is very complicated, and putting the blame on it… Fyodor doesn’t know if he can.
It’s history and faded, but not forgotten, wounds.
Old ties and promises engraved into time.
It’s hard to blame a debt he was never forced to pay, but felt as if it was his obligation after
everything. After centuries of living in guilt and hoping he could go back and fix things,
despite knowing he can’t. After never being blamed for what had happened back then,
despite it being his fault. After watching everything that meant anything to him crumble
before his eyes. Because of him.
It’s hard to blame that person for what has happened today when—
Jingle!
“...” Closing his eyes, Fyodor lets out a tired sigh. “You’re quick.” His tails move to cover
Sigma even more, as if to protect him. The boy shifts in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up. “He’s
not here.”
“We know.” One of the figures standing by the open door speaks up.
“We’re not here for the vessel.” The other one says. “Master wanted us to make sure you and
your…” A pause, hesitant and filled with unspoken questions. “...companions are safe.”
“You don’t have to call him ‘Master’.” As he says it, Fyodor’s voice rings somewhat
melancholic, lost in the days long passed. “You never had to.”
His eyes open slowly, gaze slides from the floor to the two figures—
“Saigiku–kun. Tetchou–kun.”
The two men don’t move when the kitsune’s eyes fall on them, not even a flinch shakes their
bodies.
In a way, they look exactly how Fyodor remembers. Jouno Saigiku with the same white hair
fading into bloody crimson, a long earring with a small bell at the end hanging from his right
ear, his eyes closed to the world but his smile more welcoming than Fyodor could ever
muster himself. He’s wearing a blood–red kimono with a white pattern of gently falling snow,
or delicate rain on a late autumn night.
Much in contrast to his Jouno, Suehiro Tetchou’s clothes are mostly white, with only the
dark–pink petals carried by the invisible wind forming long, irregular lines on the fabric. His
dark hair falls freely on his face and shoulders, the marks under his left eye seemingly
shining when the light hits them just right.
A dark wolf at a white one’s side.
They don’t hide their ears or tails, never did. Jouno’s ears are always turned to the sides and
his tail slowly swaying behind him, while Tetchou’s nature keeps him forever alert and still.
It’s like a memory coming alive, except…
They look the same, but Fyodor knows they aren’t the same pups he once knew and trained.
He can sense how much stronger they’ve become, how much wiser, even if they continue to
stick to the rules that have never existed. He can sense their worries and… how tired they
feel. Drained.
Even if they don’t realise it themselves.
“It’s a show of our respect.” Tetchou says, his face seemingly expressionless to anyone who
doesn’t know him.
Respect, he says.
But Fyodor knows that’s not all there is to it. That’s not how it started.
It’s a remnant from the time the two of them were serving a higher demon, who couldn’t
accept he wasn’t born a god – a man who swore off his real name and called himself Kamui,
seeking godhood through deceit and choosing to ignore whatever plans Fate might have had
for him. But when no human or demon believed him – worshipped him – when no one
wanted to follow the graceless reigns, Kamui turned to those who wouldn’t know any better.
To those who wouldn’t question his words because they couldn’t—
To young demons.
He gathered four wolf pups, erasing whatever homes and pasts they may have had, and told
them the tales of his made–up greatness, keeping them as his servants. They didn’t know any
better back then, they didn’t know anything about the world when Kamui became their ‘god’.
Then, overcame by greed, Kamui tried challenging that person and—
Lost.
It wasn’t even a fight, but merely a struggle before Kamui inevitably fell for the last time.
To the four pups, learning about the truth was devastating – their entire world crumbled
within minutes.
It was never that person’s intention to take them in, but he did, taking responsibility for
someone else’s cruelty and hoping to make it right for the young ones. And to this day, even
after the pups have grown into wolves, they still can’t let go of the hierarchy they were
moulded into following.
Time couldn’t change that about them, and neither did the offered freedom.
“Is that so?”
He looks at them for a second, a vision of a pair of much smaller boys flashing before his
eyes – terrified and hungry, trembling as they held each other’s hand…
A sigh. “You don’t have to stand in the doorway, you know that, right?”
“We’re only here to—”

“Thank you!” Jouno cuts the other off with a smile. He grabs Tetchou’s arm and drags him
inside, both of them sitting down on the floor not too far from the kitsune as the door slides
close on its own. The brunet’s ears lower slightly, his tail wrapping around his legs and his
eyes looking to the side – away from Jouno – as he rubs his arm, where the white wolf’s hand
was squeezing just a second ago, while the other doesn’t show any signs of being bothered.
How nostalgic, Fyodor finds himself thinking.
For all his stoic expressionlessness, Tetchou truly can still act like the young pup Fyodor
once looked after: shy and with eyes for one person only, while Jouno’s darker personality
hasn’t been softened by his smile, either.
How… left behind in the past.
“You’re hurt.” The white wolf speaks up, his earring jingling when he turns his head towards
Nikolai, the cat unmoving in his sleep. “...we’re sorry.” He doesn’t have to see the injuries to
sense them there, to smell the blood.
Looking at Fyodor’s arms and the bandages, Tetchou’s shoulders fall slightly. “We can h—”
“Don’t worry.” The kitsune says, much softer than he intended to.
…some habits are really difficult to grow out of, aren’t they?
“Gogol will live, and the human is unharmed.” Mostly, anyway.
“But your arms…” The brunet tries again, only to fall silent when Fyodor offers him a small,
somewhat sorrowful, smile in return.
“They’ve already started healing.” Because someone is helping him heal. “It won’t take long
now.”
Jouno hums, turning to Fyodor again. “What would you like us to tell Master, then?” He tries
to act unbothered, but it’s the smallest things that give away how he shares Tetchou’s concert.
The twitch of his left ear, the voice that rings lower than before, the way his snow–white fur
seems to lose its shine…
“That I’m alive.” The fox answers, the words heavy with memories on his tongue. “And that
I’ve done my part.”
“Fyodor–san, I said we aren’t here to—”
“I know, Saigiku–kun.”
They aren’t here to talk about that. They aren’t here to check up on whether the fox has
fulfilled his promise or not, succeeded or let the plan burn. They are here because someone
wants to make sure Fyodor will be fine, after the deed has been done. But thinking about it is
something the kitsune prefers not to do. It’s something that he shouldn’t do anymore,
something that will bring more sorrow than anything else.
The past is meant to stay in the past, not taint the present.
The old wounds aren’t meant to be reopened.
Silence stretches through the air, none of them uttering a word, but the two wolves don’t try
to move away, either. Now, they both look hesitant, they look so young – almost the same as
when Fyodor met them for the first time, even if only in spirit. The kitsune knows it shouldn’t
matter, that there isn’t anything more to be said or done here, but…
But in his mind, they are still the same pups.
Uncertain of their words and struggling with their feelings.
“...”
And maybe, only maybe, a part of the fox is to blame for holding onto these faded memories
when he doesn’t have a reason to.
Allowing a smile to settle on his lips, Fyodor speaks up first. “How are the others?” And he
hates the voice in his heart that is genuinely curious about that. “Teruko–chan and Michizou–
kun?”
Some of the tension fades from the wolves’ bodies, their ears perking up before they droop
slightly again.
“They’re… fine.” Tetchou says, his tail stirring.
“Michizou left a while ago.” Jouno adds. “I hear he’s serving another god now.”
Quirking a brow, Fyodor looks at the white–haired boy. “You hear?” But don't know?
The wolf’s smile sharpens. “We haven’t talked since.”
“Jouno promised he’d stab him in the back for leaving if he ever comes back.”
Ah… right.
Jouno has never been the easiest person to reason with, especially not when he has already
made up his mind. He’s not usually blindly unreasonable, but he does go to extreme lengths
whenever he feels it needed.
“Saigiku–kun…”
That being said, Fyodor is pretty sure the somewhat unusual promise wasn’t born out of
hatred – the wolf must have been hurt by the fact that a friend he grew up with decided to…
well, leave. Walk away from the life all of them thought they would share until forever meets
its end.
“None of you are held by force, or by any oath.” The kitsune can see the white wolf’s tail
twitching uncomfortably. “Michizou–kun’s decision wasn’t a crime to be punished.” It wasn’t
a betrayal, even if it must have felt like it for Jouno. For all four of them.
“...I know.” The boy mumbles.
“He would have stabbed him right there and then if Okura hadn’t stopped him.”
“Suehiro.”
Watching the two wolves’ banter makes a chuckle bloom inside Fyodor’s heart, one that the
fox keeps inside and doesn’t let escape. It’s not the right time. Not the right circumstances.
“You shouldn’t be making trouble for Teruko–chan.” He says instead.
She’s the oldest out of the four and with Fyodor gone, she is the one to look after them,
straighten their backs when necessary. That’s how it is, the way it should be, but… Somehow,
that thought plays on a regret’s string deep inside the kitsune’s chest.
A guilt’s tone.
Yet another feeling to be pushed aside and silenced.
Another long second of silence settles around them, as if all three of them were thinking
about the same thing, about how, once upon a time, it wouldn’t be Teruko to look after them,
but Fyodor. As if it was something the two younger men never truly let go of in their hearts.
“Fyodor–san.” Jouno speaks up again, not as confident as before, but just as honest. “Why
won’t you come back?”
Ah. How many times Fyodor has asked himself that very same question?
“...”
He knows: too many times.
“I can’t.”
“Even if it’s only a visit?” The boy tries. At his side, Tetchou’s gaze settles on the fox’s face,
his ears turned to hear every word – curious. Hopeful, maybe. “Just to let Master see—”
“I can’t.” Fyodor repeats, firmer. But he regrets it soon after, when he sees the two wolves
flinching at the sound of his voice. “...I won’t.” He adds, softer and somewhat apologetic,
soothing the uncomfortable feeling in the air.
A part of him wants to, but another part of him – a wiser, more understanding of the world’s
ways, part – knows he shouldn’t.
Sometimes, people leave for a reason. Sometimes, not going back is the right choice if you
wish to move forward, if you wish to live a life that someone dear to you has sacrificed their
everything to give you a chance at.
Even if it’s not easy.
Even if you had to leave so much behind—
“But I’m alive.” Fyodor says, feeling a faint tingle around his wrist, as if someone was
squeezing it reassuringly. “And I’ll heal soon enough. So will my companions.”
“...right.”
Tetchou’s eyes travel to Jouno, then to Nikolai, Sigma, Fyodor… “We should probably go
back now.” He says. “We only came here to—”
“—check up on me.” The kitsune finishes for him. “And you did.”
Nodding, Jouno stands up again. “We did.”
“If you’ll excuse us.” And Tetchou follows right after.
But then, the white wolf stops right by the door, his earring jingling again as he turns his face
to the kitsune over his shoulder. He stays like that for a heartbeat of silence, a split second of
hesitation, and then…
‘With them’ goes unsaid, but Fyodor knows. So does Tetchou, who also looks back at the
fox, his eyes filled with repressed hope. But the kitsune doesn’t offer them the answer – be it
the one they seek, or the one they’ll come to hate – because he isn’t sure if he can let the
words out into the world just yet.
If he deserves to.
“For what it’s worth…”
Instead, he offers them the voice he would use when they couldn’t fall asleep as pups, the
sincerity he rarely shows to anyone.
“...I’m glad to see you again.”
‘I’m glad you are okay, all of you.’
The wolves don’t say anything else, only bowling politely before disappearing behind the
closing doors and leaving Fyodor alone with Nikolai and Sigma again. The boy is still asleep,
still resting his head on the fox’s legs, while the cat—
“That was awfully considerate of you.” Fyodor says, glancing towards the futon. “To let us
talk in peace and silence.”
“I’m hurt~” Nikolai chirps, not bothering to look at the other, or even open the one eye that
isn’t covered by the bandages. Or maybe he’s too tired to do that. “Aren’t I always
considerate and thoughtful~?”
The kitsune scoffs, but doesn’t answer.
With no reply, Nikolai’s playfulness quiets down a little, his next question more serious and
honestly curious, rather than mocking. “So… do you think it worked?”
The plan.
The essence.
The… whatever comes next.
“I would assume so. At least for the time being.”
“How do you know?”
Fyodor’s face twists into a grimace on its own, his lips and ears twitching. “Because he hasn’t
come to finish us off yet.” And if Chuuya had died, there would be nowhere in any of the
dimensions the three of them could have hidden from Dazai’s wrath, so the redhead must be
alive. For now.
And if he’s alive, then… it worked. Somehow.
“Ah…” That seems to be proof enough for the cat. “So, do you think the rest will work, too?”
He asks instead. “Or will Dazai–foxy find a way to save his cute human?”
…Dazai–foxy?
Nevermind.
Let’s not dwell on that. Nikolai has never been of the right mind and Fyodor has grown to
just accept that fact about the bakeneko.
“I don’t know.” An honest answer. Because Fyodor truly doesn’t know how all of this will
end.
He’s pretty sure that person won’t be trying to make a move while Dazai is around, and he’s
certain the kitsune won’t leave his human’s side for even a second after what has happened,
at least for a few days. Dazai’s strength and speed, the barrier around his residence… There
are obstacles to overcome, none easy. It gives the kitsune time to try and find a way to save
his husband, or get that thing out if it’s possible—
Unless that person’s insanity has grown stronger and he will try something stupid, but…
“It doesn’t concern us anymore.” That's all Fyodor has to say on the matter.
Nikolai, however, doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “And which outcome would you
prefer~?”
…which, indeed?
None? Both?
He’d prefer not to think about it, ever.
Fyodor wishes he would have never been given a choice, never given a possibility, hope.
Because that’s the most cruel thing one can do to someone who thought they’ve moved on.
It’s the hope he used to desperately cling onto a long, long time ago, before he had learnt to
let go of what isn’t coming back.
It’s the hope that comes at a price.
…a price that isn’t his, so his opinion shouldn't matter.
Yet – it does.
His fingers run through Sigma’s silky strands as the kitsune watches the boy sleep peacefully,
the reddened skin around his eyes beginning to fade. “I don’t have the right to say it—”
As he watches the boy who betrayed a friend for him, his mind wanders to the person who
saved him.
“—but I wouldn’t want to see Sigma–kun cry any more than he already has.”
That much, at least, isn’t a lie.
“Are you jealous?” Tetchou asks once they get far enough from the house. “Of that bakeneko
and human?” He’s not sure why the question slipped him, only that a part of him can’t bear
the thought of not knowing.
Jouno doesn’t spare him even the smallest move of his head or ears. “Are you?”
“...” They don’t stop for even a second in their tracks, in the steps they don’t need to get back
home, but… somehow, they let their legs carry them forward as their hearts seek calmness
again. “I’m not angry at them.”
Because it would be unfair, not only to the cat and the human, but also to Fyodor – to the
person who used to look after them, the person that didn’t do them any wrong. The other
two… Tetchou doesn’t know them, and it’s easier to hold onto that thought than it is to try
and understand what he felt when they stepped inside Fyodor’s house.
Besides, it’s different for Jouno.
Out of the four of them, he was the closest to Fyodor.

Or so it seemed to Tetchou for all those years his eyes would follow after the white wolf.
“That’s not an answer.” Jouno lets out a sigh, but doesn’t push. “I don’t know.” It was never
easy, with Fyodor. “I think…” For the first time, his smile fades. “I think I just wanted them
to meet again. They both seem miserable like this.”
(Not only them.)
“They seem fine to me.” Maybe not fully okay, but Tetchou hasn’t seen any clear signs of
misery from either of them.
As the other man shakes his head, a quiet jingle rings through the air around the annoyed tone
of his voice. “Because you focus too much on what you see, and not on what there is.”
“Huh?” The dark wolf furrows his brows, feeling somewhat offended. “I have no idea what
you’re talking ab—”
But his words are cut short by the other, who without so much as a warning stops right in
front of him and turns around, their faces inches apart, so close Jouno’s long bangs almost
brush his skin—
Eyes wide and his cheeks faintly darker than usual, Tetchou takes a step back. “What are you
—”
“How is your arm?”
(It burnt before, when he grabbed it.)
“...my arm? Huh?”
(It still burns now.)
“...as I said.” Letting out another sigh, Jouno continues walking, shaking his head and waving
a hand at the other wolf. “Your eyes are making you blind.”
“Huh?” Tetchou blinks, confused. “Hey, wait—!”
Jouno doesn’t wait, doesn’t even slow down, but the feeling of his friend walking by his side
may lessen the knots tightly wrapped around his heart.
Only a little, though.
Because among the unspoken confessions, feelings that were never allowed to bloom and the
invisible chains they built for themselves… walking forward isn’t as easy as it used to be.
Just like it has never been this hard not to look back.
Chapter End Notes

I will cry about everyone's backstory by myself until the day comes when I can finally
reveal it :')
Skk coming back in the next chapter tho, don't worry
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa also, just so we're clear: in case anyone forgot, 'Kamui'

is Fukuchi's alias in BSD at some point, so he is NOT the mysterious person I can't
reveal yet, but the one that Fyodor's person defeated. It was supposed to be obvious, but
I'm not sure how well people remember details form the manga...
Semblance of Peace
Chapter Notes
“Ryuu!”
Startled by the sudden thud of the door sliding open, both Ryuu and Gin look up and turn
their heads to the door where—
“...Atsushi?”
—where a boy with alert, perked up, tiger ears and an erratic breathing, as if he ran here from
miles away, stands. With one hand still on the doorframe as he supports himself, Atush’s eyes
frantically search around the small room, finally settling on the two, surprised figures.
“What are you—”
“Are you okay?!” The tiger breathes the words out more than actually saying them,
stumbling forward and kneeling down next to the siblings. “Are you hurt anywhere?!” He
looks at the other boy, his hands lightly patting Ryuu’s body anywhere they reach, searching
for injuries.
“I’m…” Still slightly surprised, Ryuu blinks a few times to grasp what is going on and why
the tiger would ask that, all while Gin chuckles quietly to herself next to him. “I’m fine.” He
says after a second, offering the boy a small smile as his hand covers Atsushi’s, to make the
tiger stop and focus on his words, not his body. “I’m not hurt.”
Atsushi looks up, worried eyes staring right into dark, faintly tired ones for a long moment,
assessing how much of that is the truth and how much is merely a white lie the wolf tells to
ease his mind. But eventually, after having found no deceit, he lets out a relieved sigh,
slumping against Ryuu and resting his head on the boy’s shoulder. His tail falls heavily on the
floor around them, tension leaving his shoulders as Ryuu rubs gentle circles into his back.
“You’re okay…” He repeats to himself. “What…” Then, Atsushi straightens up again,

looking at the girl. “What about Gin? Are you alright?!”
Another chuckle slips past her lips as the girl nods, tucking a long, loose strand behind one
ear.
Ryuu’s hand comes up to brush white hair falling into the other boy’s eyes away. “We’re both
fine, ki—” Clearing his throat, the wolf swallows down the word before it can escape him.
“Atsushi.” He says instead, ignoring the look Gin gives him.
Then, as surprise gives way to slow realisation, Ryuu’s eyes narrow slightly. “But why are
you here?” It’s not uncommon for the tiger to worry about every single little thing that
happens to him while Atsushi isn’t around, but he first needs to know about it, and Ryuu
didn’t have the time to tell him even if he wanted to.
“Because I was worried!” The tiger wraps his fingers around Ryuu’s wrist when the boy’s
hand leaves his cheek, sliding to his palm as he rests both of their hands on his thigh without
letting go. “When I heard you went after Dostoevsky, I thought…”
“Huh?” A small frown settles on Ryuu’s face. “How did you—”
“I sent one of my flowers to deliver him a message.” A voice rings from the doorway, a
familiar one – gentle, with a hint of a tease behind the warm fondness – like a thousand petals
dancing on the spring’s kind breeze.
“Ane–san?” Both of the Akutagawa siblings speak at once, genuinely surprised to see the
spirit here.
“And I…” Yosano steps into the room following Kouyou. “...told her about it.”
The spirit sends her a polite smile, eyes shining with mocking gratitude that looks more like a
provocation, rather than anything else. “Only because you needed my herbs.”
With a small roll of her eyes, Yosano waves her hand at the comment. “Don’t say that as if
you wouldn’t have found out about it on your own, sooner or later.”
Kouyou doesn’t answer, but the golden glint flashing from deep within the red irises says it
all. “I’m glad to see you two unharmed.” She says instead, tilting her head to look at the
Akutagawa siblings. “Physically, at least.”
“Huh?” Atsushi’s eyes fill with concern again. “What does that mean?”
But Ryuu only shakes his head. “Nothing. We’re just… tired.” Exhausted, even, after having
been hit with the violent attack of whatever that thing was. It was too sudden to guard
against, happened too fast to understand, and it left them with a storm raging in their minds.
That is, until Yosano’s golden butterflies calmed the intrusion, freeing their thoughts from the
madness trying to claw at them.
As if reminded of that, the wolf turns to Yosano, his expression more serious now. “How is
Chuuya? Is he…?”
Okay? Safe?
Alive?
“He’s resting.” But the woman’s lips twist in a barely noticeable grimace for a second and
Ryuu isn’t sure what to make of it. “I’ll need to run some tests before you can see him,
though.”
“Tests?” Atsushi blinks, confused. “Why? What happened?”

“A lot, I would presume.” Kouyou says, her eyes glancing at the door with a knowing look
even if she doesn’t share the worries blooming in her mind.
Sighing, Yosano’s shoulders drop slightly. “That would be an understatement.” She looks at
the wolves and the tiger sitting on the floor, relaxing her gaze. “But let’s leave that for later. I
came to check up on you two.”
“We’re fine.” Gin bows her head politely, long black strands falling around her figure like a
dark waterfall of silk.
“It caught us off–guard.” Ryuu adds. “But only in the beginning.”
“And Rashoumon?”
“He’s resting, regaining his form. He’s going to be fine.”
Yosano crosses her arms, nodding. “Let me know if there are any complications. And you.”
She looks at Atsushi, one brow arched high, amused. “Let my patients relax before you throw
yourself at them again.”
It takes a second for her words to sink in, for the tease behind them to ring clear, but when it
does…
“I–I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“Oh wow~” Yet another voice rings inside the room. “We’ve got quite a few guests here,
don’t we?”
Looking at the ceiling and shaking her head in exasperation, Yosano also leans on the wall,
opposite to Kouyou. “I thought I told you to stay away until it’s safe, Ranpo.”
“But I am staying away?” The man pouts, the butterflies in his hair fluttering their wings as
he walks inside and sits on the futon next to the other three, smiling at them innocently.
“From the angry fox~” There are bandages wrapped around Ranpo’s throat and bruises
blooming underneath them, but no one dares to ask – not when Yosano’s eyes flash
dangerously for a split second.
“That’s a basic survival instinct at this point.” The doctor says back, her eyes lingering on the
white gauze for a moment too long before looking to the side again.
Kouyou hums at that, tilting her head. “So that’s what got your freeloader into trouble?”
A huff. “I’m not a freeloader!”
“Would you prefer a ‘pet human’, instead?”
“Kouyou.” Yosano cuts off whatever words Ranpo may have had to say back. “Stop it. I
already said I want my patients to rest, didn’t I?”
On the futon, the Akutagawa siblings together with Atsushi look at each other, each with a
different kind of expression. The tiger seems genuinely worried about what has been said –
both about Chuuya and Rashoumon – while only Ryuu feels somewhat awkward to be
witnessing this exchange, and Gin… Well, at least she is enjoying the situation, her lips
slightly curled up with silent amusement.
“Ah, excuse me, Akiko.” The sakura spirit flutters her lashes, covering her very much un
apologetic smirk with her fan. “I was only trying to have a conversation with your…” The
pause is long, and Ranpo wrinkles his nose again. “...human.”
Rolling her eyes, Yosano lets out a half–sigh and half–snort. “I’m sure you were.” Then, she
straightens her back, her posture turning back into strict and professional. “Now, everyone
out.” She looks at Atsushi, at the flopped ears and a tail sliding closer to Ryuu, at their
intertwined hands and concerned eyes…
Sometimes, she really is too soft for this.
“...you can stay.”
“But I just got here~!” Unfortunately, Ranpo’s childish whine doesn’t work on Yosano, who
only sends him a glare that leaves no room for disobedience, making Kouyou chuckle to
herself as she heads for the door.
“Rest well, lads.”
“And do not try to visit Chuuya just yet.” Yosano’s arms are crossed over her chest as she
watches Ranpo get up from the futon with a pout. “For everyone’s sake.”
It’s only when the three of them are alone again and the door slides shut, that both Atsushi’s
expression and posture shift, turning unwaveringly determined. “Care to tell me what is
going on, exactly?” It’s not that he’s angry, more like… worried.
Or rather, worried and angry.
On the verge of either walking away without a word, or clawing at Ryuu’s clothes and body
until he gets the answers that will soothe his mind.
“Atsushi, it’s really not—”
The tiger’s eyes narrow, his fingers tightening around Ryuu’s hand. “Going against
Dostoevsky isn’t nothing, Ryuu.” He has never met the dark kitsune, but he’s heard stories of
him and he knows he’s dangerous. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t go against him, Dazai–sama took care of that.” The wolf exhales deeply, trying to
ease the tension with a small smile. “There wasn’t enough time, that’s all.”
“Not enough time to send a message? A familiar? Anything—?” Gin’s hand settling on his
shoulder calms the growing frustration in Atsushi’s heart, his eyes meeting her in a silent
apology.
“Chuuya was in danger.” The girl says. “We had to hurry.”
“...” He glances at Ryuu, scepticism mixing with guilt and concern. “...so you weren’t just
throwing yourself at danger while I’m not there? The way you always are?”
The wolf huffs at that, rolling his eyes as his lips stretch into a smirk. “Not ‘always’.”
“Ryuu—”
“I wasn’t.” He reassures Atsushi. “And I’m here, unharmed. We both are.”
“...”
Gin offers him an apologetic smile as well. “We’re sorry.”
“...and Chuuya–san?”
“That’s…” The siblings exchange a look, one that the tiger doesn’t seem to be fond of. It’s
too conflicted, too worried and too uncertain to feel comforting . “...complicated.”
“Alright. You should be fine now. I mean…” Yosano sends him an apologetic smile when
she’s done checking the spell around his neck. “...safe. For everyone else, that is.”
It’s not exactly what Chuuya was hoping to hear but it’s something and, at this point, he’s
willing to accept any good news he can get, no matter how insignificant and fleeting.
“...are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be with this.” Yosano answers, putting her supplies and small vials back in
the drawers and bags as the redhead adjusts his clothes again. “Do you feel anything strange
yet?”
He feels… weird.
But not in a bad way.
The yesterday’s conversations left Chuuya confused and scared and somewhat in denial about
all of this. Because how could a life so perfect become so miserable in just one day? How
could he have become a vessel for something dead, a flesh bag for a corpse, and attacked his
husband while unconscious, when all he wanted was to go back home?
It didn’t seem fair.
It still doesn’t.
But ever since waking up earlier this morning, Chuuya has been… himself, at least. His
headache is gone, the damned black cloth on his right arm also disappeared overnight and his
mind is finally quiet. Not calm – because how could he be calm when he may die at any
given moment? – but the ringing in his ears and the unfamiliar whispers are gone, only a
ghost of a memory of them remaining in the darkest corners of his being.
Maybe Chuuya imagined them yesterday? Or maybe it’s because he was exhausted, both
mentally and physically?
…or maybe it’s gone because Dazai strengthened the spell around his neck when Chuuya was
asleep?
‘Precautions’, the kitsune claimed. And the redhead didn’t have the strength to argue. The
black fabric feels the same as before: silky and delicate on his skin, all too easy to forget
about, but it’s a bit more weird now. As if it was under his skin, not resting on it, and from
what the fox says – it has fully ‘taken root’ by now. Whatever that means.
Chuuya won’t be thinking about it for now, he doesn’t need his headache to come back and
his emotions to be all over the place again. He feels fine. Mostly, anyway.
There’s this strange feeling in his chest – it’s unsettling and it feels like he itches all over on
the inside. It doesn’t hurt – ‘not yet’, his mind reminds him – but it’s foreign, and it’s not
supposed to be there. Never has been.
Not that Chuuya has a choice anymore.
“It itches.” He says, rubbing the skin over his heart through the material of his kimono. “But
that’s all.” He thinks that’s all.
Yosano nods. “I can’t silence it completely, so you will have to live with that.”
Live, huh?
And how long will that turn out to be…
“Did…” Chuuya swallows dryly, hating himself for how every word is a struggle against
misery and baseless hope. “Did you find anything to… do something about it?”
Help him?
Save him—
“...no, I’m afraid not.” A sigh. “At least, not yet. I did all the tests I could to try and
understand it better, but it’s just not as easy as I’d like it to be, Chuuya. I’ll try to search the
old archives and ask around, but I can’t promise anything.”
…right.
“But…” The woman continues. “As I said, you—I mean, that thing won’t be a threat to
anyone else’s mind anymore.” She stands up, now looking down at Dazai, who hasn’t said a
word for the entire time she was doing the tests, save for quiet growls here and there. “I’ll get
the healing spells prepared and sealed, so you won’t have to come here every time something
bad happens, and then you’re free to take him home.”
Dazai meets her gaze, a ghost of relief washing over his face before it disappears again,
leaving a stoic face the woman knows all too well. The face that knows no emotion, no
kindness and—
“...thank you.”
—no gratitude?
“Oh, wow.” Yosano’s brows shoot up as she walks to the door, baffled by Dazai’s honest
tone. “If only you were this polite without someone almost dying.”
Chuuya isn’t sure if he’s supposed to laugh at the comment, or cry at the reminder, so he
chooses to do neither of these. But then – Yosano stops, the door only halfway open.
“Ah, I almost forgot.” She looks at the two of them over her shoulder. “The Akutagawas and
the rest will likely want to come and see you soon, since you’re clear for visitors again.”
The rest? Who else was there with them?
“Please, don’t go killing anyone in my clinic.” She adds, glaring at the kitsune.
“I’ll try.” Though the way Dazai’s eye narrows, tells Chuuya that the fox isn’t too happy
about the prospect of having guests. Not the Akutagawa siblings, or anyone else, for that
matter – and honestly? The redhead can’t blame him.
Chuuya himself isn’t sure if he’s comfortable with it just yet, but… It’s Ryuu and Gin. They
are his friends, they are almost like family at this point, and they must have been worried sick
all this time.
When the door closes behind Yosano, the atmosphere inside the room shifts. Dazai isn’t
putting on his emotionless act anymore – instead, his tails slide closer to Chuuya and his gaze
softens as he looks at the boy. It’s the calm after the storm, the silence left behind by the
violent roars and screams.
“Are you sure nothing feels off?” The fox asks, covering Chuuya’s hand with his own and
guiding it away from his chest, from the black–red scar over his heart.
…has he been rubbing that one spot all this time? He hasn’t noticed.
“More ‘off’ than having a dead god in my body?” Chuuya tries to sound nonchalant, but it
comes out sour, making the boy curse in his mind at his own voice.
Never looking away from Chuuya’s face, Dazai doesn’t offer any bickering, any teasing
comments, he only… waits. For the real answer. For the mental breakdown. For—
For the truth, most likely.

The redhead lets out a sigh, choosing to busy himself with running his fingers through the fur
of one of Dazai’s tails that has settled over his lap. “Like I said, it itches, but that’s all.”
“...no voices?” The kitsune asks, both with his voice and the bond that connects their souls.
Voices?
(Whispers?)
Why would he—
“You were acting strange yesterday.” Dazai explains, stroking his thumbs over Chuuya’s
wrist.
The boy scoffs, his throat tight. “Anyone would act strange in my situation.”
“True. But it was more than that.”
Chuuya knows.
Well, he kind of knows. It’s like trying to see anything through a thick fog, but he does
remember some of the thoughts that may have bloomed in his mind for a fraction of a second.
Thoughts that didn’t, and still don’t, make sense. Like the way Yosano’s words lit a fire of
rage in his chest, despite them being nothing more than old tales and brief explanations. Like
the urge to snarl at every smallest reassurance, the desire to rip everything into pieces—
So, no. He won’t argue with Dazai, not about this.
“I feel fine now.” The boy mutters instead, feeling more tired than he should after sleeping
through the whole night and a good portion of yesterday. “As much as a dying person can,
anyway.”
“Chuuya—”
“I know, I know…” The boy cuts him off, eyes focused on the white fur. “You said you’ll
find a way.” If there even is one. “I’m just trying to cope.” And not fall into the same
darkness he once did.
Because he’s hovering dangerously close to it. Chuuya can already feel the ghost of a
sorrow’s embrace on his mind and he’s doing everything he can to chase it away, to stay
maybe not positive, but at least sane. Something in his heart is trying to push him towards it,
towards the bottomless pit of misery, but if only he doesn’t think about it too much. If only he
focuses on what’s here and not there —
“...how is your face?” He’s too… what? Ashamed to look? Scared? “I mean, the scratches…”
…that Chuuya made, his mind immediately tells him. It doesn’t help; guilt is the only first
step. and once the redhead starts walking down this path, it will be all too easy to follow the
trail set for him by someone… something else.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don't think about it—
“It’s almost completely healed.” Dazai brings Chuuya’s hand to his cheek, and the movement
makes the boy look up, hesitant. “See?”
True enough, the red marks are mostly faded by now, even if they aren’t completely gone yet.
But the sole fact that they’re there, that Chuuya made them—
Don’t think about it.
Don’t feed it.
Yosano told him this thing will feed on any negativity he feels, which means Chuuya can’t
allow himself to spiral down in self–loathing and hatred, or he may hurt someone again.
Unfair and ironic as it may be, he has to stay positive, or at least indifferent, towards
everything that happens around him, or else he’ll risk not only his own life, but also everyone
else’s.
“Isn’t it weird?” The boy’s thoughts slip from his lips without him realising it.
“Weird?”
“...” He swallows dryly. “That I could hurt you?” Because he isn’t supposed to, as Dazai told
him in the past. Humans aren’t supposed to be a match for a demon, let alone for a nine–
tailed kitsune.
Realisation settles in Dazai’s eye, mixed with the uncertainty that looks odd when painted on
the kitsune's face. “...don’t think about it too much.”
“But—”
“It’s okay.” He cuts Chuuya off, kissing the inside of his palm. “It’s sealed, it won’t hurt
anyone again.”
‘It’.
Not ‘you’.
“...” A sigh. “Fine.” Chuuya takes his hand back, resting it on top of one of the tails. “But you
have to stop thinking about murdering everyone who comes near me.” Even if a part of
Chuuya does feel safe with that knowledge, with the reassurance of Dazai being here and
knowing he won’t let anyone take the redhead away again. “At least not Ryuu and Gin.” He
adds, seeing how the fox is ready to argue. “I don’t know who else there is, but…”
“Kouyou.” Dazai offers without hesitation. Even from here, it’s all too easy to sense each and
every person in the clinic if only he chooses to focus on it. “And Atsushi–kun. Ranpo as well,
most likely.”
Wait.
Atsushi? What is he doing here? Is he—?

Ah… he must have been worried about Ryuu.
“Yeah.” Chuuya nods to himself, unsure of how he feels about seeing all of them in his
current state. “Don’t kill them.”
A hum. “I can’t promise anything—”
“Dazai.”
For the first time today, or maybe even since yesterday, Chuuya hears the kitsune chuckle.
It’s weak but warm, and it fills the boy with the sense of normalcy he has been stripped of.
As if everything is fine. As all of it is just a joke, unreal.
(It’s not.)
“I won’t.” Dazai says, a small smirk on his lips. “But you don’t have to see them if you don’t
feel like it.”
“...I want to, though.” A part of him does, anyway.
He wants to see familiar faces, he wants to make sure they are fine. Ryuu and Gin were there,
at the cave, from what Chuuya was told, and he needs to make sure they weren’t affected by
whatever was going on with him and that thing at the moment. Make sure he didn’t hurt
them.
Because he could—
“I thought so.” Dazai’s ears turn towards the door, one of his tails twitching behind Chuuya’s
back. “Yosano is talking to them, they will probably be here in a few minutes.”
So… soon. But maybe that's for the better.
Let them see him now while he’s still himself and not bleeding out from a thousand cuts
made from the inside. While he’s still alive and sane, and has enough strength to put on a
smile he doesn’t truly feel.
Gods, he will have to tell uncle Adam and uncle Paul about it, won’t he? Or at least come up
with an excuse to see them again, a few times if possible. Chuuya doesn’t want to die without
saying goodbye to them, he doesn't want to die at all but if he has to—
Blinking, the redhead comes back to the present, pushing the dark thoughts aside as he
focuses on Dazai’s words. “Huh?” He looks up at the fox, seeing a familiar shadow cast over
his face…
“For letting this happen.” The kitsune’s voice is barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
…ah.
Again.
But it wasn’t his fault. “You didn—”
Knock, knock!
The sound, despite being quiet, startles Chuuya, his words dying in his throat.
“...that’s your guests.” Dazai says, one of his tails wrapping around Chuuya’s wrist and
squeezing it reassuringly. “Are you sure you want to see them now?”
Well, it would have been better if they gave them a few more minutes to talk this out. “I…”
But the moment has already been broken and there’s so much impatient shuffling on the other
side…. “Yeah.” Sitting down more comfortably on the futon, Chuuya makes sure his clothes
look at least somewhat presentable before giving Dazai a small nod.
“Come in.”
The door slides open not even a second after Dazai’s words, not fast enough to break the
frame Yosano has just had repaired after she cracked it, but visibly impatient. Or desperate,
maybe. Because both Ryuu and Gin’s expressions are exactly like that – desperation mixed
with concern and dark shadows that Chuuya recognises better than he’d like to.
Guilt.
…because, of course, they would feel it, too.
“Dazai–sama.” Ryuu says, both he and Gin bowing their heads slightly. But their eyes aren’t
on the kitsune, they search for Chuuya and when they see him, the redhead can’t help but
offer a small, weak smile at how relieved they both seem. “Chuuya…”
“Hi.” He looks at the siblings, who are still standing in the doorway, frozen in place. “You
don’t have to stand there.” Chuuya’s lips twitch as he gestures towards the fox with his head.
“I made him promise he won’t bite.”
Dazai sighs. “It’s true.”
Still a bit hesitant, but the siblings finally step inside, sitting down on the floor in front of the
futon at a safe distance away from it. Or away from Dazai’s tails, if you ask Chuuya. What
the redhead is glad to notice, though, is that neither of them looks hurt anywhere – worried?
Yes. But not more than that – their shoulders are still tense despite seeing the redhead alive,
but there is no physical pain in their eyes or movements.
“We’re…” Ryuu’s voice is quiet and his eyes are set on the wooden panels of the floor, not
on Chuuya. “We’re glad to see you’re better.”
Chuuya may not be ‘fine’, but there is no denying the fact that he looks much better than he
did when the two of them last saw him. At least he’s awake and clean, not covered in blood
and… Let’s not think about that.
“How are you feeling?” Gin asks, also avoiding making eye–contact.
“Alive.” It’s the only fully honest answer Chuuya can offer at the moment. “And not in pain.”
If he focuses enough, he can even ignore the itching in his chest. “Were you hurt?”
Ryuu and Gin’s eyes widen at the question, but then the boy shakes his head. “No.” He says.
“We’re both fine.”
“And Rashoumon?” This time, it’s Dazai who asks. The fox doesn’t so much as flinch from
his spot, his ears and face alert as if he’s waiting for something bad to happen, for someone
else to come out of nowhere and try to take Chuuya away again. But there is a tingle of
concern in the way one of his tails twitched at Chuuya’s question, the concern that the fox
hides under the veil of cold nonchalance at all times.
Ryuu turns his head to look at the kitsune, his left hand settling on his right arm and the dark
sleeve of his kimono, within which the familiar sleeps. “He’s back to normal now.” Dazai
seems satisfied with the answer, nodding silently and falling silent again, while Chuuya only
frowns.
“Did something happen to him?” First of all, how does anything happen to a demon that’s
made out of smoke?
“He had trouble keeping his body from fading away when…” A shadow washes over Ryuu’s
face, his words never making it past his lips.
“When we got to you.” Dazai explains instead. “Because of that.”
Ah… right.
Yosano mentioned that the thing inside his chest had some kind of an impact on demons
while not completely sealed, so it does make sense after all. Rashoumon isn’t like any other
demon Chuuya has met, he doesn’t have a physical form without being summoned… or so
the boy thinks.
“Right…” Clearing his throat, Chuuya wills himself to smile. “I heard Dazai had you look all
over for me, so…” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, fingers lingering on the
material around his throat for a second too long before he remembers he isn’t supposed to
tamper with it. “Thanks.”
“...”Ryuu and Gin glance at each other, their shoulders drooping and their smiles, however
small, fading. “Chuuya, we’re…”
Even Dazai’s expression changes, like he’s in a silent battle with himself as to what he’s
supposed to feel when he looks at the two wolves.
“We’re sorry.” Ryuu finishes. Both him and his sister bow their heads, their hands fisted in
their clothes. “We should have sensed Sigma was dangerous.”
…ah.
“We were there with you so many times and yet…”
“We’re sorry to have failed you. Both of you.”
A part of Chuuya knew it would come to this, but… It would be unreasonable to blame the
Akutagawa siblings when even Dazai didn’t sense anything wrong, despite being so close to
the village this entire time. It would be unreasonable to blame them for something that
happened when they weren’t even there.
There is a quiet voice in his head whispering to him and tempting Chuuya’s mind with the
accusations that taste sweeter than honey, because…
How could they have missed it?
How could they not notice it for months?
But every time that voice reaches Chuuya’s mind, the redhead remembers all the times he has
spent with Sigma. With the person who Chuuya truly believed to be his friend, he has spent
much more time with him than the Akutagawa siblings. Then, there are Chuuya’s feelings
towards Sigma in all of this, and even these are much more complicated than they should be
– not as clear and strong as hate, not as fleeting as indifference and definitely not as pure as
forgiveness.
Chuuya doesn’t want to blame Ryuu, or Gin, or Dazai, for what has happened. He doesn’t
blame them, not when his mind is clear. Everything is just so complicated right now, so
confusing, it’s hard to stay calm when everything in him wants to scream.
“This…”
And he needs to make sure Dazai shares his opinion. He hasn’t said anything about being
angry at the wolves, but the kitsune loves to hide his emotions—
“...wasn’t your fault.”
Fortunately, though, when Chuuya glances at Dazai, he doesn’t see anger, resentment, or
even disappointment. There may be a hint of conflict in his eye, a hint of hesitation that’s
mostly due to the stress of the last two days, but…
“You did well finding him.” The fox says, looking at the two. “And helping with the fight.”
It’s not the same as saying he doesn’t blame them, but it’s enough.
It must be.
“Exactly.” Chuuya agrees, not that he knows much about what has happened while he was in
that cave. He does know, however, that seeing Ryuu and Gin bow before him feels weird. “So
stop that already.”
Straightening their backs again, their eyes glued to the ground. “...sorry.”
Gods, Chuuya is slowly getting sick of that word. Everyone is sorry about everything,
everything is pitying him, while he doesn’t need any of that, doesn’t want it—
“Is it just you two?” He asks, diverging his mind from going down the wrong path again.
“Dazai mentioned Kouyou and…” He sends Ryuu a suggestive smirk when the wolf finally
looks up at him. “...Atsushi?” And Ranpo, but the man lives here, so it’s not that surprising.
“They’re waiting outside.” Ryuu says. “They didn’t want to overwhelm you all at once.”
That’s… reasonable. Thoughtful.
“Plus…” The wolf coughs into his sleeve, briefly glancing at Dazai – but not briefly enough
for Chuuya not to notice. “They weren’t sure if it was, em… safe.”
That’s even more reasonable. Sadly.
“I told you, he won’t bite—”
“It’s not his fangs that we’re cautious of, lad.” A voice comes from outside the open door,
light and sweet. “But his tails and fires.”
“K–Kouyou–san!” Ah, that’s definitely Atsushi. Chuuya doesn't even need to see him to
recognise the shaky voice. “We shouldn’t!” Was that a sniffle just now? “They’re still—”
“It’s fine.” Chuuya chuckles, feeling somewhat lighter now. “Just come inside already.” He
sends Dazai a look, making sure the kitsune remembers about his promise of not murdering
anyone they’re friends with, and especially not here.
“You heard him.” The kitsune sighs, neutral with his voice but his soul echoes displeased.
“No killing for today.”
“Dazai—”
“How thoughtful.” Kouyou muses, slowly stepping inside the room, Atsushi right after her.
While having this many people around lights up a small spark of anxiety in Chuuya’s chest,
having the people who have proven to be his friends brings more comfort than uneasiness,
slowly easing the tension in the boy’s body.
With a fond huff, Chuuya notices that Atsushi was, in fact, holding back tears until now, even
if only a little. The tiger has a habit of worrying about everyone, sure, but Chuuya is more
inclined to believe it’s because of Ryuu’s short guilt speech from a moment ago. Which is
still adorable, if you ask the redhead. At some point Ranpo also joins them, cheerful as ever,
and when Chuuya asks about the bandages around his neck…
“A startled animal attacked me.” – is all he gets as an answer, together with a light shrug.
It doesn’t take long for the redhead to put two and two together, especially with how Dazai
seems to conveniently avoid his gaze while Ranpo is around. But at least the man doesn’t
seem to be holding a grudge against the fox, and for the sake of letting everything seem fine
when it actually isn't – Chuuya doesn’t ask.
They all talk for a while, politely avoiding asking about what has happened or how Chuuya
feels anymore. They do keep their distance from him and Dazai on the futon, but the air feels
lighter now, everyone’s comments growing more and more natural.
From time to time, Chuuya catches Kouyou watching him silently, focused, as if she’s staring
not at him, but rather into him, her eyes piercing right through where it itches the most. But
she doesn’t say anything about it, even if her eyes narrow sometimes. Even if she’s not as
cheerful as the others, but more quiet and keeping to the side.
She’s always a pillar of comfort to have around, with how much she has already helped him
and Dazai in the past. Maybe it’s because of her presence, of everyone’s reassuring smiles
around Chuuya, that none of it feels real anymore. That all of the suffering the redhead has
gone through seems like a distant memory, not reality less than a day old.
Because, oh, how easy it is to forget about the looming darkness when you can’t see it. When
you feel fine and safe, and when you’re surrounded by the people you love.
It doesn’t mean it’s not there, though.
It’s always there, now.
But in this room, in Yosano’s clinic, with Dazai and the rest – forgetting about his worries
comes to Chuuya naturally.
Being calm is easy, here.
Feeling his chest relax and his mind brighten up is easy.
…but once it all comes crashing down on them, once Chuuya is met with reality, and not
with the illusion of peace he’s being given one a tray of hopeful smiles—
It will be hard.
And Chuuya isn’t ready for what his own two hands will do when that time comes.
—
“So, what do you think?”
Peace. Quiet.
Only the breeze blowing around them.
Only the scents of late spring filling the air—
“It’s dead.” Kouyou says from behind her fan, no hesitation whatsoever. She watches with
unreadable eyes as Yosano takes a sip of her tea, chin propped on one hand as the woman
leans on the table between them. “But the resentment left behind is incredibly strong.”
“Yes, I could feel that.” Yosano mumbles, too tired to mind her tone and manners when it’s
just the two of them. They’re sitting on the soft cushions by the small table on the balcony of
Yosano’s house, after seeing Chuuya, Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings off and having
Ranpo run off to… wherever he wants to, really. “But not about that. About the boy.”
The spirit hums, not a single blow of dark hair of a golden shine escaping her gaze. “Death is
definitely being attracted to him, but it hasn’t claimed him yet.”
Circling the rim of the cup with one finger, Yosano nods, unsurprised. “How long do you
think it will take?”
“I thought you were the doctor here, Akiko.”
“I am, but you—”
“—play with the subjects of Death beautifully?” Kouyou teases, quoting Yosano’s old words
with the grace of a melody.
“Yes.” A sigh. “You know what I mean.”
“Well…” The spirit puts her fan down, taking a previously offered cup with one hand. “Not
long, I’m afraid.” A floral aroma fills her lungs. “Half a year, maybe a few weeks more if
he’s lucky.” Given that nothing happens before then. “But if we don’t do anything to help
him, Death will put its mark and it’ll be too late, then.”
Glancing up from her drink, Yosano looks into the other woman’s eyes, into the gold and
black dancing behind the red irises. “Is there anything to be done about this?” Because, no
matter how much she thinks about it, she can’t come up with anything.
Not with a solution.
Not even with a possibility.
This too much outside of what she’s used to, of what she has learnt. There’s too many factors
Yosano still doesn’t understand, doesn’t see—
“As long as Death hasn’t laid its claim…” Kouyou muses over the rim of her sup. “...there is
always something that can be done to prevent it.” She takes a sip. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?”
It’s not about creating a path where it’s impossible to do so, it’s about finding the path that is
already there. Hidden.
Where Fate left it to wait for the right time—
If that time ever comes.
“Do something.” Yosano repeats after her, the words leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.
“Like what?”
But Kouyou only smiles at her politely, sorrowful just as much as elegant—
“That, my dear Butterfly Queen, I do not know.”
Chapter End Notes
I take bets (from people who haven't read ahead on my twitter) as to what 'Chuuya's own
two hands' will do :3
EDIT: I'm sorry, but I think the next chapter will come out on Monday (4th July)
because I'm tarvelling AGAIN and it's going to be an important one so I don't wanna
rush the editing :')
Water Droplets
Chapter Notes
The first two weeks feel surprisingly easy for Chuuya.
It’s not the same as before, his days aren’t as carefree and calm as he’d like them to be, but
they’re peaceful, for the most part. He doesn’t go out of the house often anymore, and when
he does, it’s never further than the garden. The sole thought of going back to the village
makes his stomach twist unpleasantly – it’s too soon, too unnerving, and he doesn’t know
how he’d react if saw Sigma’s house. If there’s anything left of it, of course. Because from
what Dazai told him, the village must have had a day almost as eventful and stressful as
Chuuya, back then. In any way, he doesn’t feel like going out. Not back there, not to the
forest, not anywhere.
At home, he feels safe.
It comes as a relief for Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings, too. They don’t try to take away
Chuuya’s freedom by locking him up inside – they don’t even comment on any of it, always
so carefully tiptoeing around the subject – but the redhead can not only see but also feel how
the air changes when he steps outside, even if it’s only to the garden. How they tense up, their
eyes turning more alert behind the masks of comforting smiles—
And they’re always there.
Be it Ryuu, or Gin, or Dazai, right by his side or a few steps away – Chuuya is never alone,
not really.
Their eyes always follow his every step; even if the boy can’t see them around, because
they’re trying to give him at least a sense of privacy, he knows they’re there. In case anything
happens, in case someone comes after him again, and it only adds to the already violent
internal conflict Chuuya is battling in his mind.
Because a part of him not only understands where it’s coming from, but is also relieved by it,
appreciates it. It’s the same part that makes Chuuya look over his shoulder whenever an
unfamiliar noise startles him, the same part that can’t stop thinking about that someone who
might come for him anytime and whose identity none of them knows. It’s the reassurance he
needs to sleep at night, to not go crazy when the whole world is set on pushing him towards
the edge of his sanity.
But then there’s also Chuuya’s usual, freedom–seeking nature that can’t help but make him
feel frustrated with all of this. He hates feeling uneasy about something as simple as stepping
outside of the house. He hates having someone watch him at all times, or listen to the signs
his body makes by simply being alive. He doesn’t want to be protected like some fragile,
helpless pet, even if he knows he needs it. Even if he understands how everyone is simply
worried about him, that they want to help.
It just doesn’t make it any better.
Chuuya isn’t sure if anything can make it better, other than finding a solution to this mess.
The Akutagawa siblings at least try to be subtle about it, they try to make conversations as if
everything was fine and normal. While Dazai… with him, it always feels complicated these
days. More strange and… unfamiliar?
As if the kitsune can’t decide whether he wants to keep Chuuya close at all times and never
let him go, or… just observe from the shadows. From a distance.
Or maybe he’s just overreacting.
After all, Dazai is doing his absolute best to try and find a way out of this, reading through
the dozens of dozens of scrolls and sending Ryuu to different worlds and spirits to gather
even more materials. Sometimes, mostly when Chuuya drifts in and out of sleep, he can feel
the fox’s tails on himself, almost possessive in the way they refuse to let him go, but
sometimes…
Dazai feels distant.
But it may be just because of how different he acts now, after calming down and allowing
Ryuu and Gin to be with Chuuya when he’s not there. Back at Yosano’s, he would have
ripped anyone’s throat out if they came too close, so now that he isn’t overreacting at every
smallest sound…
Maybe that’s just it.
Maybe Chuuya is overthinking everything.
The redhead tries not to think about it too much, he tries to convince himself that there is
nothing wrong with any of it. That the conversations with Ryuu don’t feel forced, that the tea
breaks with Gin aren’t dripping with tension, that the kitsune is just tired and that Chuuya
doesn’t mind being watched.
Every day.
Every night.
All the time—
For two weeks, Chuuya does his best to try to live a normal life, the one that he used to. Try
to smile around the chains of poison ivy growing around his heart.
He eats and sleeps and paints and reads the same books and tends to the garden, and nothing
hurts. Like this, it’s almost too easy to forget the pain he was drowning in before, the burning
flames that clawed at his body and broke it from inside out. Dazai’s spell keeps his thoughts
clear from any intrusion, at least as far as the boy can differentiate between what he feels and
what it is making him feel.
It’s far from perfect. No matter how everyone is trying to keep him calm, Chuuya can’t help
but feel more irritated than usual. He can feel it and he knows the others notice it, too, they
just never say anything, letting the redhead deal with his own feelings the way he seems fit.
Because Chuuya has every right to feel irritated, or frustrated – who in his place wouldn’t?
It’s the way his mind is trying to cope with everything, with the thought of dying and not
being able to help it in any way. It may be because of the thing caged inside his heart, but
anger comes to him more easily than despair. Annoyance, over misery.
At least he doesn’t act on it. Ever.
No matter what happens, no matter how annoyed he gets – at the world, at Sigma, at Dazai, at
himself – Chuuya refuses to let the violent thoughts and venomous desires grasp the reigns of
his mind. He refuses to let it take control, or even give it a chance to try.
And it is tiring, more mentally than physically, but it’s not that bad once he gets used to it
after a few days. It’s bearable, for the most part, and if only Chuuya distracts himself with
something more pleasant, or simply time–consuming—
Every day can feel normal if only he tries hard enough.
…until two weeks pass, and everything begins to fall apart all over again.
Chuuya should have known it was too good to be true, too easily ignored. He has deluded
himself with the thought that maybe he won’t have to die – because why would he, when he
feels fine? – and kept on coming up with more and more excuses not to tell his uncles about
what happened, but—
“You’re bleeding.”
Startled and abruptly brought back to reality from the depths of his mind, Chuuya curses
under his breath, relaxing only when he realises it’s Dazai, who is now standing over him.
“Do not…” The back of his head hits the tree behind him as Chuuya looks up at the fox.
”...scare me like that.”
When did Ryuu leave? He was sitting next to Chuuya just now… right?
When did Dazai get here?
Why didn’t Chuuya see him before?
“I wasn’t trying to.” The kitsune says, carefully patient but with a look in his eye that seems
to study every inch of Chuuya’s very being. “You had a perfect view of me walking here.”
…did he?
The boy scoffs, rolling his eyes. “As if you never get lost in thoughts.”
“I do.”
See? Nothing to worry about—
“But I don’t hurt myself while at it.” One of Dazai’s tails moves closer, wrapping around
Chuuya’s arm and guiding it away from his chest. “You’ve scratched it too much, Chibi.”
…oh. Now that Chuuya is aware of it – that he was told about it – the delicate sting reaches
his mind.
“...” Frowning to himself, Chuuya looks down at his chest, his kimono loosened and
revealing the skin, and sees the faint red lines scattered around the black scar. “...great.”
“Let’s get it checked—”
“Dazai, it’s just some scratches.” Chuuya cuts him off, letting out an annoyed sigh. “I’ll be
fine.”
Arching a brow, the kitsune doesn't let go of the boy’s arm, his tail firmly keeping it between
the two of them. “Just ‘some scratches’ in a very convenient place, am I wrong?”
…ugh.
“I told you it itches.” Irritation paints Chuuya’s voice for a moment too long, the tone of it
too rash and cutting. But seeing the kitsune’s ears lower over his dark hair and concern
settling in his eye, the redhead calms himself down again. “It’s really fine. It’s just some
scratches, there’s barely any blood.” He leans back more on the tree. “I’m surprised you even
noticed.”
Dazai’s gaze lingers on Chuuya’s face for a while, searching for any sign of something trying
to take over. “Of course, I did.” He eventually says, letting go of the boy’s arm and sitting
down on the grass next to him. “I would always notice the smell of Chuuya’s blood.”
“I’m not sure if that's reassuring, or weird.” Or both. But he does take the small cloth offered
to him, wiping a stray drop of blood from his skin – the only drop that was shed, for fucks
sake.
The fox hums. “I would say it’s only natural.”
“How is that—” Blue eyes fall on the curiously perked up ears, the white fur seemingly
shining in the sun, the tails that frame his figure… Right. Dazai is many things and amongst
them – a fox. The redhead adjusts his kimono better, covering his chest and the faint scratches
with the material. “...nevermind.”
“We’re also married.” Dazai reminds him, his tone softening. “I can feel it when you’re hurt.”
It makes Chuuya halt for a second, guilt mixing with affection inside his chest into a swirl of
conflicting emotions. To run or to lean closer, to smile or to cry. Then, his shoulders relax and
his voice lowers into a tired, but still pouting, murmur. “But even I didn’t feel it…”
Dazai chuckles at that, honest, and Chuuya feels lighter. “That's why only one of us is
allowed to space out~”
“Sure.” The boy looks to the skies and crosses his arms, head tilted to the side as he looks at
the fox. “So? Have you found anything?”
Every day and every night, Dazai spends it with one of the old scrolls in hand. Some of them
are from his own archives, some are what Ryuu and Gin bring back from the errands the
kitsune sends them on. Even when Chuuya is sitting right next to him, Dazai always finds a
way to read them, to search for an answer. They even have some of the scrolls scattered on
the floor of their bedroom, for when Chuuya is asleep and the kitsune watches over him from
behind the inked papers.
The fox mirrors his tilt, a teasing brow arched high. “Can’t I take a small break with my
husband?”
He can and he takes them, but only when Chuuya forces him to, or when he puts on an act of
pouting about the lack of attention – something the boy has learnt from the master of pouts
himself. But right now, it’s neither of those times, and even if Dazai came here because he
smelled Chuuya’s blood—
“So that’s a no, then.”
“...”
—him staying here tells the boy more than he’d like to acknowledge.
Dazai’s eye twitches, his smirk turning more sour as his ears lower and his tails stir behind
his back. “Nothing useful, no.”
Don’t worry.
It’s only been two weeks.
There is time.
Don’t push him—
“But you did find something?” Curiosity pushes aside the growing frustration in Chuuya’s
gut, letting the question ring through the air with an intrigued note. The boy can’t tell whether
he’s actually interested in it, or if it’s the suffocating need to know anything about what’s
happening that takes over him, but he pays it no mind.
Dazai gives him a small nod. “A name.”
“Of…?”
One of Dazai’s tails pokes Chuuya’s chest weakly, a featherlike touch that doesn’t last. “Of
who that used to be.”
Well… that doesn’t help them much, but it’s more than nothing, right?
Maybe at least they won’t have to keep referring to it as ‘that thing’ anymore. Although, on
the other hand… Does referring to an intruder in his own body by name will make it feel
better for Chuuya? Will it make it feel any less terrifying, carrying around a corpse attached
to his soul?
Maybe it will.
Maybe not.
“Care to share?” The redhead asks, debating with himself how he feels about it. Then, his
brows furrow in confusion as he blinks at the fox. “Wait. If those old gods, or whatever, died
so long ago, why do you have records of their names?”
“No one knows if they ever called themselves anything.” Dazai shrugs, looking around the
garden and the leaves dancing above their heads. “But legends and myths need names to be
passed down and remembered, so they were called whatever the first person to tell the tales
felt like.”
That’s… well, weird.
But it’s not like humans are any different, and legends aren’t supposed to be real anyway, so
it’s not like anyone would actually care about the names. That is, of course, unless the stories
prove to be true.
Like now.
“Fair enough.” A sigh. “ So, what is it?” Chuuya can only hope that this thing, even if already
dead, won’t decide it doesn’t like the name and that it’s time to do something about it.
Dazai takes a second to answer, rolling the word on his tongue as if he wasn’t sure if letting it
out into the world is a good idea. But eventually…“Arahabaki.”
Something stirs in Chuuya’s guts, something dark and primal – a single sting of annoyance.
But maybe it’s just Chuuya’s nerves, the manifestation of his mind’s fears.
“Right. Never heard of them.” The boy says, looking to the side idly and feeling his chest
starting to itch again. “Anything interesting about it?”
“It is said to be the incineration of chaos.” The tone Dazai uses reminds Chuuya of his
uncles’ bedtime stories, only less joyful. “Destruction in its purest form, from which all
hatred was born into the world.”
“...”
A sigh. “But there isn’t much more about it.”

‘Maybe it’s for the better’, Chuuya finds himself thinking. That single piece of information
was enough to tighten the knots in his gut, he doesn’t need any more details – unless they are
helpful, of course.
He wrinkles his nose in distaste, ignoring the tingle of a bright fire that seems to spark up in
his chest at the mention of… well, destruction. “Did you send Ryuu for more scrolls?” he
asks instead, silencing the whispers before their songs start to lure him in. “I know there are
many empty rooms here, but we will run out of space eventually.”
‘Unless I die before then’, the boy reminds himself, but doesn’t say it out loud.
A hum. “That too.”
“‘Too’?”
“I told him to check if Odasaku can spare a moment to come here and take a look at you.”
Oda…
With his thoughts slowly forming into one, coherent image in his mind, Chuuya blinks, his
eye snapping at Dazai—
“Your god friend?!” Not ‘our’ friend, because Chuuya isn’t sure if Oda is his friend as well.
They’ve only ever talked a few times aside from the wedding ceremony, and every time was
with Dazai at his side. “To come here?!”
He isn’t sure if the sound of that makes him nervous because of the fact that he’s causing
problems for an actual, living god by dragging him all the way out here to look at one human,
or if it’s because Oda is a god. Not the same one as the one inside the redhead, but he is.
Or maybe it’s all of that, and the fact that they’re only doing it now, after waiting two whole
weeks. Almost as if, until now, Dazai believed he would find the solution by himself, and
he’s run out of potions, of places to search.
Dazai, who never asks for help unless absolutely necessary, that Dazai – he’s asking for help.
Out of his own free will. Which means he’s desperate, even if he doesn’t show it.
But will Oda really have a solution to this?
…will he make it worse?
Will he find this thing in Chuuya an abomination, choosing to exterminate it instead or

helping?
Dazai, however, remains unfazed, his ears twitching when the breeze tickles them. “Why is
that a surprise? He’s been here before.”
“Yes, but—”
Is there really a ‘but’ here? Or is Chuuya forcing it so sound unreasonable?

“That was for a good reason and this—”
“Your life is a good reason.” Dazai cuts him off, narrowing his eye at the boy, his stare
unwavering.
It halts Chuuya’s line of thought, his lips pressing into a line. A part of him wants to agree,
another part wants to deny it, and everything in him is growing more and more tired.
The inside of his chest itches.
His stomach turns, trying not to hope for too much.
Because hope is a double edged sword. It can keep a person from giving in to despair in the
darkest moment of their life, but it can also take the ground away from under their feet when
met with the cruel realisation that—
“I’m sorry.”
—sometimes, even gods don’t have the answers.
“I don’t think there is anything I can do to help.”
Aren’t those some truly cruel words to say after staring at Chuuya without making a single
sound for a good ten minutes? What was Oda even trying to see, like that?
Ah, but what did Chuuya expect, anyway?
A magic cure?
An easy way out of this mess that isn’t supposed to have even happened?
“Figures…” The boy mumbles under his breath, trying not to look defeated by it. Dazai’s
hand on the small of his back is comforting, but having everyone’s eyes set on him feels
suffocating, making him feel too exposed. Like Chuuya is on display here, like he’s just a
one–of–a–kind attraction and not a person counting their last days. “Thanks for coming
anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Chuuya–kun.” Oda repeats, sounding honest. “I can see your soul and where it
has clawed onto you, but I don’t know of any way to separate it from you.” A sigh. “Or even
if there is a way. Souls and their arts are extremely complicated, even for us.”
“Oda–san is still a fairly young god.” Now even Ango is giving him this pitiful look from
behind his round glasses, and Chuuya wants to scream. “There are things he can’t yet know,
especially when it isn’t connected to what paths he looks after.”
The god nods to himself, glancing at the tanuki. “Thank you for reminding me, Ango.”
“Yes, Ango.” Dazai teases, but it’s not as cheerful as he was when his friends got here.
“Thank you for reminding us all and not helping one bit.”
“...”
“Oi, Dazai—”
“It’s fine.” Angu brings up a hand when Chuuya tries to scold the fox, smiling apologetically
at the boy. “I understand.” And something tells the redhead that he’s also used to Dazai
being… Dazai.
The kitsune doesn’t seem to feel bad about his words, though. He sure as hell doesn’t
apologise for acting like that towards one of his friends, but neither Ango or Oda look like
they mind.
…are they that used to it?
“Dazai.” Turning his head to look the fox in the eye, Oda’s voice changes into something
more neutral, carefully devoid of any hidden meaning. “I take it that you haven’t tried talking
to Mori–san?”
…to who?
Confused, Chuuya turns his head to look back at Dazai, a silent question shining in the clear
eyes, only to see the fox shrug the questions off. “If you can’t do anything, then he probably
won’t be able to, either.”
Why does the corners of his lips twitch like that?
Oda furrows his brows slightly. “You don’t know that.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“Dazai.” Ango speaks up. “Personal feeling aside, he is a—”
“Who is ‘Mori–san’?” Looking from Dazai to Oda to Ango, Chuuya waits for an answer
from either of them, but is met with nothing but silence for a long moment as the three of
them exchange looks. Oda arches a brow at Dazai, the kitsune’s tails stir uncomfortably
and…
“Another god.” Ango explains after what has felt like forever. “An older one.”
“Older?” Now, it’s Chuuya who frowns. “But I thought they were gone?”
“Not that old, Chuuya–kun.” Sending the fox one last questioning look, Oda’s gaze slides to
the redhead. “Just… a generation older than me. But not an ancient one.”
That doesn’t explain why the mention of his name made the atmosphere in the room this
tense, though. Or why Chuuya has never heard it before despite having heard dozens of
stories from Dazai.
He’ll let it slide for now, just because he doesn’t feel like making a scene in front of the other
two, but…
“You guys need to get better at naming things. This is too confusing.”
That, at least, manages to lift the mood a bit. Dazai chuckles next to Chuuya, and both Oda
and Ango smile at him, relaxed.
“Maybe we should.”
“Or…” Dazai muses. “We could not talk about it more than necessary.” And just like that, the
tension returns.
“Right…” Oda and Ango look at each other briefly, a silent understanding visible on their
faces even if Chuuya can’t know what they’re thinking about.
“We should probably get going.” Ango ends up saying.
“I’m sorry again, Chuuya–kun.” Almost absentmindedly, Odasaku reaches out with his hand,
most likely to rub the boy’s arm in reassurance, or as an apology. “I wish there was
something—”
But his hand never finds Chuuya. Instead, the redhead lets out a surprised yelp when he’s
pulled a step back suddenly, Dazai’s arm around his frame. It’s a firm hold, fingers digging
into his shoulder and…
For a second, Dazai’s gaze is ice cold.
It’s a look Chuuya has never seen him wear, not around his friends, a look that doesn’t belong
among the people he trusts and treasures. Yet, here it is – a glare pointed at not only a friend
but also a god.
Oda and Ango seem equally as surprised, blinking at the fox.
“Daz—” Chuuya tries to scold him, but Dazai doesn’t let him.
“We appreciate that you tried, Odasaku~” The kitsune chirps, the dark aura fading ever so
slowly, but the hand on Chuuya’s shoulders never lets go. “Be careful on your way back.”
“...”
“...we will.” Oda takes his hand back, offering Chuuya a smile instead. “Take care, Chuuya–
kun.” Then, he glances at the fox and offers a small nod. “Dazai.”
Once the other two are gone, Chuuya can’t help but frown at the kitsune, crossing his arms as
he turns around. “What was that?”
Tucking a long strand of red hair behind Chuuya’s ear, the last touch before the fox’s hand
rectracks and hides in the sleeve of the dark kimono, Dazai tilts his head. “What was what,
Chibi?”
“Don’t play dumb.” The boy rolls his eyes. “You almost attacked your friend there!”
A god friend, no less. Someone who was here to help them, help Chuuya, no matter what the
outcome of it has turned out to be.
“But I didn’t.” – is Dazai’s only excuse.
Nothing in the fox’s features look sorry about what has happened – on edge, yes, but not
regretful in the slightest. If anything, he oozes this uneasy aura of concern and newly found
relief that wasn’t there before. His tails reach for the boy to brush their tips on his clothes,
connecting them in a way that only the kitsune can feel.
It’s strangely comforting, but also…
The distance. It’s uneasy.
“Yes, but…” The redhead needs to take a deep breath, feeling the darkness stir somewhere in
his mind at the same time Dazai’s soothing warmth washes over his soul. “You can’t act like
that with everyone. Especially not with people who want to help us.”
Straightening his back, Dazai narrows his eye at Chuuya. Not threatening, but insistent. “I
don’t think my reaction was unreasonable, all things considered.”
A grimace twists Chuuya’s face. Dazai is both right and wrong about that, and every reason
behind it only gets more and more on Chuuya’s nerves, feeding into his frustration and
painting it darker. It’s too easy to irritate him, too easy to make him despise the care he’s
been given – make him see it as patronising, as nothing more than pity.
“Inviting someone here and then glaring at them is unreasonable.”
Why is he this angry about it?
“Protecting you isn’t—”
“Protecting me from what?” Chuuya hisses, his body taking a step back on its own. “From
friends? What next? You’re going to threaten my family?”
Why is it so easy to step away when everything in the redhead wants to be close to Dazai?
Why does his chest itch so much all of a sudden?
“Chuuya.” Dazai’s expression softens as the fox takes a step forward, slowly following the
boy. “I wouldn’t do that.”
‘Oh, he probably would’ , something in Chuuya’s mind whispers.
…but isn’t Dazai his family, too?
“You need to calm down.”
Why is he telling Chuuya how to feel, now?

“Or what?”
A hand returns to his cheek before the boy can move away, barely there but still enough to
ground him. “Or you’ll be feeding it.”
Why does Dazai keep saying that?!
“Is that what I am to you now? An ‘It’?!”
“What?” The kitsune looks genuinely confused. “No, of course not—”
What if he’s lying?
What if Dazai sees him as a burden, as a threat, as a shell with something he despises inside
of it—
“Chuuya, stop.”
…did he say it out loud?
Why would he do that?
Why would he even think something like that?
Blinking at the fox, Chuuya realises how it’s now two of Dazai’s hands that are cupping his
cheek, their faces closer than before and the bright, red eye piercing right through Chuuya’s
mind, trying to find him among the havoc of an ancient disaster.
“I’m…”
What was he angry about, again?
“...sorry.”
Dazai looks at him in silence for a second, searching the boy’s face. “You know I don’t think
that.” He tilts Chuuya’s head back to make sure the boy doesn’t look away. “Right?”
Unable to nod like this, Chuuya mumbles a quiet ‘yeah’. He would never doubt Dazai, he…
he doesn’t.
…does he?
“Is it in your head?” He hears the fox ask, thumbs stroking the skin under his eyes.
“...no.” There are no whispers, no dark fog clouding his mind – it’s only around his heart, and
they can’t do anything about that. Or so it feels like. “It’s not.”
“Are you—”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Fortunately, the words come out more tired than annoyed. They don’t need a
reason to start arguing again and like this, the fox won’t risk pushing the boy into the
madness.
Although… Was that really an argument between them? Or was Chuuya fighting with the
projections of his thoughts, his own doubts?
Sighing to himself, the redhead’s fingers wrap around Dazai’s wrists, guiding his hands away
so he can sit down by the wall, trying to calm his mind and heart. “Are you going to tell me?”
He asks, arching a brow and smirking weakly at the kitsune. “About that Mori–san person?”
It’s a distraction.
Something to occupy his thoughts and sate his curiosity until Chuuya feels like himself again.
Dazai wrinkles his nose, sliding a cushion closer with his tail before sitting down as well. It’s
obvious that he doesn’t want to elaborate, but Chuuya’s gaze is stubborn. “He’s a god.” A
sigh. “There isn’t much more to it.”
The concern is still present in his voice, but at least he’s going along with Chuuya’s change of
subject. For now.
“Sure.” The redhead huffs out a forced laugh. “You sound exactly as if there was nothing to
add.”
Nothing to hide.
From Chuuya. From his husband—
“He’s an…” The fox tilts his head, a darkening eye looking somewhere to the side before
meeting Chuuya’s gaze again. “...old acquaintance.”
“And you don’t like him?”
His lips twitch, fangs flashing in a smirk that Chuuya can’t decipher. “It’s complicated.”
Oh? The brief hesitation picks Chuuya’s curiosity even more, distracting his mind from his
own problems. “Complicated how?”
“In many long and boring ways, Chibi.” Dazai waves his hand, dismissive. “It’s all history
now. Not worth mentioning.”
“Oda–san thought it was worth mentioning, though.”
The reminder causes Dazai’s ear to flinch, an almost child–like stubbornness painting itself
over his face and shi shoulders drop unther the redhead’s questioning gaze.
“...he took me in after I died.”
Chuuya’s lips part on a silent ‘oh’, eyes blown wide. After that?
So he helped Dazai when he was hurt? But… Why would the kitsune feel so appalled by the
idea of asking him for help, then? What happened between them?
“That’s… good, isn’t it?”
“It’s complicated.”
(Even more than Dazai himself knows.)
“And you won’t ask him for help? Even if it’s for my sake?”
“I’ll find a way to help you myself before I’ll need to do that.”
“But—”
A tail flickers Chuuya’s forehead, effectively ending the conversation before the boy can
actually get any useful information out of the fox. “And you look tired.”
Ugh.
“It’s barely noon, stupid fox.”
“True, but that doesn’t change the fact that you do look tired.”
…ugh.
Again.
“I’m not—” One arched brow and a flash of crimson from the dark eye is enough to have the
redhead biting his lip. He knows pretending won’t get him anywhere, the kitsune can read
him too well. “Fine.”
It’s only been two weeks, he’s only a bit more tired than he should be.
It’s only been two weeks, so a quick nap is everything Chuuya needs to feel better.
…for now.
Drip!
It’s a cage.
It’s his home.
Drip!
He’s trapped.
He’s safe.
Drip!
Let me out.
Don’t let me go.
Drip!
Take it off.
Drip!
Take it off.
Drip!
Take it off.
Drip!
Droplets fall one after another from Chuuya’s wet hair to the still surface of the water in the
bathtub, his body unmoving as he watches the small waves each droplet creates. Taking a
bath is one of the rare occasions when the redhead is allowed to be alone in the room without
having someone’s gaze follow him, without anyone listening to every whisper leaving his
lips. The only occasions he can be alone without having to face Dazai’s worried expression,
only feeling the fox’s concern through their bond without an end.
It’s quiet all around him, only the dripping sound of water echoing inside the four walls.
And the thoughts.
The emotions.
They appear in his head as fast as they escape him – in less than a second, less than a blink of
an eye.
Drip!
Let me out.
They leave behind Chuuya’s heart unsettled, his chest tight with the doubts he doesn’t
remember, doesn’t realise having.
Drip!
Even if he tries, he can’t understand why he’s feeling like this. Why his hands are clenched
underwater and why his heart is racing, teeth gritting.
Drip!
Accept it.
Make it stop.
Drip!
I can make it stop.
‘I can make it stop.’
Drip!
“Huh?” Chuuya blinks.
…did he just say that?
Stop what? Why would he stop anything?
Ah… was he in the bath for too long?
The earlier conversation with Oda and Ango, and then… whatever it was he had with Dazai
afterwards really confused him too much. It made the headache come back, though not as
intense as it was at Yosano’s, and now he’s struggling to piece his mind back together.
The nap helped, or at least Chuuya thinks it did. They haven’t argued since, the redhead
doesn’t have a reason to feel angry anymore.
…did he have a reason before?
What was it?
Drip!
He wants to keep me away.
Drip!
He wants to get rid of me.
Drip!
Sure, a part of Chuuya wishes the kitsune would share more about his past and that Mori
person, but it’s not like he wants to force Dazai to talk. Especially not when he’s already
going through so much just looking for a way to help Chuuya. Everything else can wait until
they can know for sure it’s going to be fine.
Drip!
He wants to hurt me.
Would it hurt? But they don’t even know if it’s possible to help him or not, and Dazai would
never cause Chuuya pain, would he?
Drip!
He did, before.
Would he do it again?
Drip!
He’s dangerous.
He’s taking care of me.
Drip!
He wants me dead.
He wants me dead.
He wants me dead.
Knock knock!
The sound makes Chuuya jump, water splashing and falling to the floor when his body jerks
and his head snaps up at the door.
“Chibi?” Ah, it’s Dazai. Just Dazai. Just… “You okay?”
Why wouldn’t he? How long has he been here? Did he do something to worry Dazai again?
“Y–yeah. Just dozed off for a bit.”
The door slides open barely enough to allow the kitsune to peek inside, his furrowed brow
relaxing once his gaze falls on Chuuya.
Crossing his arms over his bare chest, the boy tilts his head. “Didn’t you know peeking is
rude?” He tries to sound like he normally would, like he should sound. He doesn’t actually
mind, Dazai has seen him naked many times already. It’s mostly to make it sound like he’s
fine.
Because he is.
He is.
He is—
“If me being rude keeps you from drowning…” The fox says, resting his forehead on the
wooden doorframe. “...I don’t need manners.”
A warm sparkle lights up in Chuuya’s chest, but it disappears just as quickly. “Do I look like
I’m drowning?”
“Well,” Dazai’s lips stretch into a half–hearted smirk. “You sure look wet, Chuuya.”
The redhead rolls his eyes. “You don’t say.” Then, he splashes even more water from the
wooden bathtub to the ground next to the door, on purpose this time. “Go away, I’ll be out in
a bit.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Yes.”
Drip!
I don’t need you.
“I’ll wait here then.”
Drip!
Go away.
“Ugh, whatever.”
Drip!
Take it off.
Take it off.
Take it off—
Drip!
Chapter End Notes

Hiiii~ sorry about this chapter being late :’) I had an unplanned trip to make to the other
side of the country and I only learnt about it 8h before the train + then was basically
offline for over 2 days, soooo…
Crazy life, heh.
But in general: if I ever miss an update, I'll add an edited note in author's notes on the
last chapter on the day when it's supposed to be released :)
Anyway~
That was a breather chapter because :)
Broken Threads
Chapter Notes
Every day after Oda and Ango’s visit feels like a blink of an eye that drags out into eternity.
There are times when Chuuya doesn’t realise a full day has already passed, there are times
when an hour exhausts him like working a full week would.
It’s not just losing track of time or dozing off whenever he’s alone, it’s worse. Chuuya could
be busy working on one of his paintings and once he blinks – he’s somewhere else, in the
middle of a conversation with Ryuu that he doesn’t remember starting, or in one of the empty
rooms he doesn’t recall going into. He could be walking down the empty corridors to ask
Dazai if he wants to take a break – a blink, and he’s in the bathtub, or in bed, or anywhere
else, after hours have passed. And he has no memory of what happens during that time, no
matter how hard he thinks back to it.
Then again, there are days when waking up feels like the most difficult chore he has ever had
to face, when simply keeping his eyes open tires him out to the point where he has no
strength left to do anything else. Most of these days, Chuuya sleeps it away, letting the dark
embrace of his dreamless slumber take away the uneasiness he feels while being awake.
He tries not to let it get to his head, hiding the growing frustration that eats him away, but it
doesn’t always work. The reigns of his mind are slipping from his hold and…
‘Are you okay?, ‘Are you tired?’, ‘Is something wrong?’, ‘Do you need to rest?’ – it’s those
questions and many, many more that fill Chuuya’s days, over and over again. Be it Dazai, or
Ryuu, or Gin, someone will always ask him how he’s feeling and—
No.
He isn’t okay.
He’s balancing on the edge of his sanity and using all of his will–power to stay calm, while
his thoughts and emotions shake with every breath he takes, waiting for when Chuuya’s
patience runs out and he lets all of it out – lets the storm rage from within his heart and into
the world.
But what can any of them even do about it?
Their concerned expressions irritate Chuuya, the way they’re being so careful with him is
beginning to make him wish they would all just leave him alone. But most of all—
His neck itches, right under the black material holding Dazai’s spell.
It’s the only thing that feels constant anymore, the one thing that keeps dragging him back to
reality with how more and more annoying it gets with each passing day. It adds to his already
fragile peace of mind, slowly but steadily tipping the scale of how much longer he can take it,
how much longer he can pretend he’s fine.
This feeling, it’s under his skin and Chuuya wishes he could rips it out, get rid of it even if it
means tearing his own flesh apart—
“Chuuya? Is everything okay?”
A blink.
…when did he get here?
“Huh?” Meeting Dazai’s concerned gaze, it’s only now that the redhead releases where he is.
“Yeah, I was just…” Letting go of the door, the boy scratches the back of his neck. “Are you
coming to bed or not?”
Exactly.
That’s what he was thinking about before.
…right?
He remembers taking a bath and then heading to their room, nothing special about it, but he
figured Dazai would be here instead, in one of the rooms littered with scrolls and books. So
he came here to look for the fox, or at least he was thinking about it and his legs moved on
his own.
Yeah. That’s what must have happened.
Before Dazai can begin to question anything, or see how uncertain Chuuya is about his own
excuse, the boy speaks up again, more stubborn and more like himself. “You should rest
sometimes, too. You look terrible.” Which may be an exaggeration, but not a baseless one.
Chuuya doesn’t even remember the last time he saw Dazai sleep, or the last time the kitsune
looked properly rested.
Day in and day out, it’s only reading the scrolls and keeping an eye on Chuuya.
Day in and day out, it’s only about pushing himself for the redhead’s sake.
He hides it well, too well if you ask Chuuya, and no matter how many times Dazai says he
doesn’t need sleep as much as humans do, it won’t change the fact that he does need it
sometimes. Even if it’s only a little every now and then. Even if it’s only once in a few days
—
He can’t go on over three weeks without resting for even a few minutes.
In the past, Chuuya may have believed that he could, but he knows better how. He can feel
Dazai’s exhaustion through the bond they share, he can feel how his worries only make it
worse and how helpless he feels under the mask of comforting smiles he wears to make
Chuuya feel better.
“What a cruel Chibi, truly.” Dazai whines mockingly, covering himself with his tails in an
offended manner. “To be calling his husband anything less than the love of his life.”
A scoff. “I’ll call my husband whatever he deserves to be called.”
“Cruel, indeed.”
With a roll of his eyes, Chuuya ignores the half–hearted comment. “So?” He asks instead.
“Are you coming or…?”
When they’re anywhere outside the house, even if it’s just a step in the garden, Dazai would
refuse to leave Chuuya’s side, especially in the last few days. It may be sitting next to the
redhead, or watching him from a few steps away, or from the roof of their house – but he’s
always there, ears straightened up and alert.
But when the boy is inside?
Somehow, Dazai still manages to follow him everywhere, together with his many scrolls and
books, but it’s not as bad. He allows Chuuya to have some space, not arguing too much when
they’re in separate rooms and without invading his space when the redhead needs time to
himself. Maybe it’s because of many protective barriers engraved into the walls, or maybe it’s
because, like this, Chuuya is being kept away from prying eyes of the outside world, who
knows.
The point is – when they’re inside, Dazai is more likely to devote himself to his research
while heavily ignoring his own needs, and Chuuya is worried. He feels guilty for being the
cause of it, concerned about the fox pushing himself too far, and… he misses how they used
to be. The days when everything was easier.
Plus, his headache isn’t as bad when Dazai is around. The sound of Dazai’s words is better
than the constant ringing in Chuuya’s ears whenever he’s alone, it keeps his mind occupied
and his heart calmer.
The kitsune must be sensing the concern and uneasiness, because his act of hurt pride fades
and his tails move out of the way as he looks at Chuuya again. “In a few minutes.” he offers
the redhead a small smile. “Let me just finish this one.”
Well, that’s something, isn’t it?
“...okay.”
The walk to their room, Chuuya remembers. He steps inside, shutting the door carefully
behind him and walking… Not to the futon, but to the wall. To the mirror. It’s been here since
the time Dazai requested a painting of the both of them, though it’s mostly covered now, with
only a small section of it still used at times.
It’s weird how Chuuya looks exactly the same despite not recognising himself. The face
staring at him from the reflection is that of a stranger, of himself, of Chuuya, of something—
Ah, the ringing is back.

Take it off.
But despite the faint signs of exhaustion, both physical and mental, he looks fine.
Shouldn’t he look worse?
Shouldn’t a dying man look like… someone less?
Why does he have to look so alive, so well? Why must Chuuya witness this illusion of
happiness the reflection shows him? This lie of the future he may never get?
Take it off.
His fingers brush the black material wrapped around his neck, pleasantly cool on his –
itching, itching, itching, itching, itching – skin. Chuuya doesn’t hate it; Dazai put it there to
protect him from Arahabaki, or from what’s left of the god, anyway, and he trusts the kitsune
to know what he’s doing.
Take it off.
To be honest, Chuuya can’t even feel the black material without seeing it in the mirror, or
touching it with his fingers. Like it’s just another illusion, manifesting itself only when the
boy chooses to look for it. A mirage.
Take it off.
But then there’s this itching that doesn’t go away anymore, and that keeps reminding the
redhead the spell is there.
Take it off.
Is it really necessary?
Take it off.
Nothing too concerning has happened since they got back from Yosano over three weeks ago.
Maybe it would be fine if it’s only a little, if it’s only for one second—
A larger hand covers his own, stopping his fingers, and Chuuya has to blink to focus on what
he sees in the mirror…
“You shouldn’t do that.”
It’s Dazai, standing behind him and looking at Chuuya through the reflection, guiding his
hand away from his neck and revealing… red, irritated skin.
Scratches.
Not deep enough to draw blood, they will likely fade in a few minutes, but they’re there and
Chuuya hasn’t realised he was doing it until now, hasn’t even felt anything.
Why?
How—
“Sorry.” the redhead hears himself mumble, annoyed at himself more than anything else.
“It… it itched a little.”
Always.
It always itches.
Dazai hums, bending down slightly. “It shouldn’t.” He whispers into Chuuya’s curls, and then
plants a kiss on the reddened skin right over the black material, stealing the breath from
Chuuya’s lungs as the boy watches him in the mirror.
A delicate brush of his lips.
A feather–like touch soothing the faraway pain.
How long has it been since…?
“I’ll try to do something about it.” The kitsune murmurs, his ears tiredly low over his head..
Chuuya lets out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing. “Tomorrow.” He brings a hand to Dazai’s
head, sliding his fingers into the dark locks as their eyes meet in the reflection. “You’ll try to
do something about it tomorrow, not today.”
“...”
“You’re tired.” Chuuya says, turning around and cupping Dazai’s cheek as the fox straightens
his back.
When he focuses on Dazai, he can forget about the itching, even if only for a moment. As if
it’s not there anymore – gone and replaced by the warmth the fox brings with himself into
Chuuya’s slowly falling apart life.
Gentle fingers wrap around his wrist, guiding Chuuya’s hand away and making the boy
frown to himself. “I feel fine, Chibi.”
‘Bullshit’ is what Chuuya would like to say, but he bites his tongue, knowing Dazai will use
his anger as an excuse to have Chuuya rest while he watches. Instead…
“Don’t make me tire you out, stubborn fox.”
“Oh?” Dazai’s lips stretch into a grin, one brow arched high, teasing. “Is that a threat, or a
promise?”
“It’s both.”
Humming, the kitsune leans down and kisses the frown away from Chuuya’s forehead,
brushing his lips between the furrowed brows. “What a bossy little human.” And then he
steps away, walking to their futon and leaving the redhead in front of the mirror, alone.
In a way, Chuuya feels relieved when he sees the kitsune sitting down on it without any
scrolls or books in hand, tilting his head and looking at the redhead as if asking him why he
isn’t coming closer. But on the other hand…
Stradling Dazai’s legs, but still careful of the tails around them, and resting his hands on the
fox’s shoulders, Chuuya pushes Dazai back. The kitsune lets his back hit the soft futon
without any resistance, only his wide eye betraying the surprise at the redhead’s sudden
actions. “Chibi…?”
“Do you hate it that much?” Chuuya says, his quiet voice loud in the silent room. “Me?”
Dazai’s hands settle on Chuuya’s thighs, light in their touch, his hair sprawled on the pillow
and exposing the face usually covered in shadows. Surprise, confusion – everything mixes in
the one eye staring up at Chuuya, making the boy’s heart clench as he wait for the fox to say
anything.
“I do not hate you, Chuuya.” Dazai says firmly, searching for the blue eyes among the flame–
like strands falling around the boy’s face. “Why would you say that?”
Why wouldn’t he?
“You’ve been avoiding me ever since…” Since they got back from Yosano, since the incident
with Arahabaki and Fyodor. He’s been keeping secrets, hiding away from Chuuya’s gaze and
questions.
“What?” Dazai frowns, disbelieving and not understanding what the other means. “I’m
always here, with you. What are you talking ab—”
“But you’ve been distant!” Chuuya’s voice comes out more frustrated than the boy wanted it
to, cutting both of them off as silence falls around the room again.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Calm his mind.
Calm his heart.
“You’re here, but…” The redhead starts again, more quiet and uncertain, as he isn’t sure
which words he’s searching for anymore. “It’s like it’s only your body, not your mind. You’re
always reading all of those scrolls and—”
“I’m looking for a way to help you, Chuuya.”
“I know. I know, but…”

His fingers tremble, gripping Dazai’s shoulders tighter, but the weight of the kitsune’s hands
on his legs grounds Chuuya. The feeling of soft fur trapped under his ankles and shins helps
him to stay calm. It’s familiar, it reminds him of the past – of feeling safe.
“You don’t touch me anymore.” Just as Dazai is about to say something back, Chuuya
shakes his head, silencing the kitsune. “Not as much as before. You barely even kiss me,
really kiss me.”
Blue eyes gaze at the faint, white pattern around Chuuya’s right hand, a reminder of their
bond, of how they got married not that long ago. Of how Dazai is a part of him, just like he is
a part of Dazai. Of the time they spent together and the nights they shared…
“Is it because of that thing?”
Is it because he isn’t the same as when they first met?
“Do you not want me while it is inside of me?”
Is that why it’s only Dazai’s eye that follows Chuuya everywhere, not the feeling on his tails
that used to linger on his skin? Is that why the fox only reaches for him when someone else is
around, or when the redhead acts weird?
It’s not that Chuuya needs the touches to feel how much Dazai cares about him, or to reassure
himself of their relationship and feelings – he simply misses them.
He misses Dazai and the way he used to make him feel.
“...” The kitsune’s gaze softens, confusion melting into guilt. “I don’t hate you, Chuuya. Not
before and not now.”
“That’s not an answer.”
All nine tails lie on the futon around them, unmoving and never reaching for Chuuya like
they would in the past. There was a time Dazai would be ecstatic to have Chuuya like this, a
time when the kitsune wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. And now?
Now, Dazai’s expression is apologetic under the veil of deepening exhaustion, and it stings
somewhere deep in Chuuya’s heart.
“I do.” The fox whispers eventually. “I'm busy searching for a solution but I do want you.
Nothing will change that.”
His brows furrow. “Then why?”
“Because…”
Slowly, one of Dazai’s hands leaves Chuuya’s thigh, reaching out to the boy’s face. It hovers
over the skin, the promise of its touch ghosting over Chuuya’s cheek for a long second
without ever bridging the last gap between them. It’s not shy, not hesitant. It’s withdrawing
from the contact on purpose.
“...the last time I touched you, it hurt you.”
A blink.
What? When?
Does he mean...? The time in the cave…?
Chuuya’s heart sinks, his breath catches in his throat when he remembers the pain from that
day, but… “It wasn’t your fault. It was—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Finally, Dazai’s hand settles on Chuuya’s cheek, his fingertips delicately
brushing the skin under the boy’s ear.
“It does.” The redhead argues, leaning into the touch to feel it more, to keep it there before it
escapes him. “And I’m fine now.”
“But you weren’t then.” Dazai doesn’t even offer him a smile anymore, he doesn’t put up an
act. His emotions are bare, face strained with memories they both would rather forget. ”No
matter what I did, no matter how gentle I was, I could feel your bones breaking under my
touch. Even my tails were leaving bruises on your body.”
As he covers Dazai’s hand with his own, Chuuya can feel how much the kitsune is holding
back. How much he wants to press closer—
“You are fine now, but I can’t forget the feeling of hurting you, little human.”
—but chooses not to.
“I won’t ever forget that.”
…so it is because of Arahabaki. That thing keeps getting between them even when it’s not
doing anything. It’s frustrating, it’s wasting their time when they don’t know how much of it
they have left—
And Chuuya is not having any of it.
He’s having his sanity ripped from him, his life burning away faster than any of them can
help it, but he’ll be damned before he lets some dead god ruin this.
Ruin them.
“You aren’t hurting me.” He says, squeezing Dazai’s hand just a bit tighter and pressing it to
his own skin. “You won’t hurt me.” Letting go of the kitsune’s shoulder, Chuuya takes his
other hand, guiding it from his thigh to his face. “I know you’re trying to help me, but…” He
leans down until the ends of his hair brush Dazai’s face and bandages. “...I miss you,
Osamu.”
He misses the effortless touches and never ending kisses.

The passionate nights.
The quiet evenings they’d spend in each other arms, simply being.
Chuuya misses all of it, even more than he misses feeling normal, human. He has always
believed he can face anything if only Dazai is by his side, that he can overcome any obstacle
as long as the one he loves is there to face his demons with him. It still holds true, now more
than ever, but… Even with the kitsune’s gaze following him around, Chuuya has felt so
lonely in the past weeks.
So far away from where Dazai is.
The fox’s eye widens, his ears straightening and lips parting. He looks struck, as if among all
of his predictions, this is something he didn’t expect. As if hearing Chuuya’s confession, so
openly honest, snapped him out of a thick fog of guilt, regret and the urgent need to do
something about it before it’s too late—
And it’s only now that Dazai realises how he has missed Chuuya calling him by his name,
feeling so closely connected and whole.
“So stop it with the distance.” The boy whispers, frustrated and feeling himself dangerously
close to pleading. “Stop it with treating me like I’m too fragile to touch.”
He missed all of it, too.
But he didn’t know how to get it back – if he’s allowed to have it back, to want it after he let
Chuuya down.
“...I still need to find a way to help you.”
Chuuya shakes his head, never breaking eye–contact. “Later. And we’ll do it together,
somehow.”
“Humans are fragile, my love.” Stroking the skin under the boy’s eyes with his thumbs,
Dazai offers him a small smile, not so much happy as a melancholic one. “So, so fragile.”
Chuuya shakes his head. “I’m not.”
“You are. To a demon, you are.”
Unless that thing sets itself free, unless Chuuya loses control again—
“But you’ve never harmed me on purpose.” The boy repeats. “I trust you.”
“I can feel it.” Dazai’s voice is barely a whisper, a single note of anger ringing through it.
“Every time I peek into your soul, every time I want to reach for you, it is always there.”
“But I am myself!”
As his eyes flutter close, the redhead closes the distance between them, sealing their lips
together in a slow kiss and feeling Dazai melt into it, having given up on the fight. The fox
lets out a relieved sigh, staring right into Chuuya’s soul when the boy pulls away barely
enough to look at him. And this time, Chuuya is wearing a firm, stubborn expression.
So much has been taken away from him already, he isn’t going to lose anything else.
“So stop it and act like my husband already.”
At that, Dazai can’t suppress a chuckle slipping from his lips, the last bits of hesitation fading
from his body. It’s a face so familiar, yet he feels like he’s lost sight of it among the worry
and guilt he’s been drowning in, only now finding it again.
Only now having Chuuya find him.
“I knew it.” He says, one hand sliding from Chuuya’s cheek to the back of his head, finger
tangling in the red locks. “Such a bossy human I’ve got here.”
Chuuya huffs, rolling his eyes. “And you’ve been neglecting him.”
A hum. “So it seems.”
Feeling the pull from Dazai’s hand and the push from one of his tails on his back, Chuuya
lets himself be pulled into another kiss. A deeper one, though still slow. Longing.
“I’m sorry.” Dazai whispers into the kiss, the words resonating through their souls. “To have
made you worry.”
He better be. Even if Chuuya can always feel him through the bond they share, his body has
felt so cold without the kitsune all over him, not that he has any plans to say it out loud. It’s
funny, relly, how much he got used to it without ever realising it.
“You can make it up to me now.”
“Oh?”
“I said I would tire you out if you keep resisting, didn’t I?”
Sending Dazai a smirk, Chuuya sits back on the kitsune’s hips, sliding his hands down the
other’s clothed chest and relishing in the feeling of Dazai’s tails stroking his legs and lower
back. Gods, how much he has missed it. All of it.
“But you still look like shit.” His smirk is confident, satisfied with the way Dazai arches a
brow at him. “So stay down and let me do the work.”
Dazai’s eye flashes with gentle red. “Is it my time for my birthday again?”
“No. It’s time for you to relax and rest.”

Chuuya’s hands work on opening Dazai’s kimono slowly, without any rush. In this position,
with the redhead straddling the kitsune’s hips, it’s not exactly the easiest task and it takes a bit
of shuffling, but Chuuya manages. Soon enough he’s staring At Dazai’s bandaged body under
him, at the amused and intrigued face.
The fox is quiet, only humming to himself as his eye follows Chuuya’s every move. He
doesn’t help him too much, only keeping his hands on the boy’s thighs and tails on his back,
letting Chuuya feel him. His touch is every–present, though not as firm as it used to be. It’s
enough to have Chuuya satisfied with how close they are, and yet still crave more.
Flattening his palms over Dazai’s stomach, Chuuya feels the familiar material on his skin –
rougher than that of their clothes, but not enough to feel unpleasant.
One look into the red eye is enough. No words are needed to convey Chuuya’s thoughts, not
anymore – they’ve done it many times, always seeking each other fully.
Gentle, warm but not burning, flames lazily spread from under Chuuya’s hands, taking away
the bandages concealing Dazai’s body. A hundred paths of black lines reveal themselves
under Chuuya’s gaze, a labyrinth of old glass cracks–like scars mapped by his fingers. They
used to be cold, so cold before, and Chuuya used to love the way they would warm up from
his touch.
Then, after the wedding, they were always warm. The redhead could feel how the hole inside
of Dazai’s soul was filled with Chuuya, with love, instead of loneliness. A part of him missed
the sensation, he missed being the one to melt the ice and set fire in its place, but it was worth
the connection they created between themselves.
And now, after knowing how Dazai’s body can feel, Chuuya’s breath catches in his throat for
a second when he realises—
It’s cold again.
Not as much as it used to be, it’s not like ice, but it takes a few seconds for the black scars to
take the warmth of Chuuya’s palms and make it their own. It’s not that much of a difference,
but it’s enough to have the redhead worried.
Why is it like that?
Did something happen to their bond? Is it—
“I can feel you, Chuuya.” Dazai’s hand comes up to cup his cheek. “I can feel you’re
worried.”
With eyes still following the endless trial of dark lines, the boy leans into the touch. His
fingers brush the cluster of scars over the kitsune’s heart. “It’s… colder than before.” He
murmurs, unwilling to voice any of his concerns in case it really is a bad sign. He doesn’t
want Dazai breaking the moment, he doesn’t want him to feel the urge to push himself even
further for Chuuya’s sake.
But, at the same time, he can’t help but worry about it. There’s so much Chuuya doesn’t yet
understand about the yōkai world – how can he be sure their bond stays safe? All this time he
has felt it growing more muffled, but Dazai was still there, on the other side, so the redhead
ignored the signs, but this—
“Of course it is.” The fox, however, doesn’t let concern taint his voice. “You have something
that burns inside of you, even when it’s asleep.”
Yet again, Arahabaki is forcing its way into their lives, into the moment that has always, and
should always, belong only to the two of them. Into their most intimate time—
It’s an intruder.
Chuuya feels a tingle of hatred growing in his chest at the thought of anyone, or anything,
meddling with his feelings towards Dazai, with his own body’s reactions.
‘Later’, he reminds himself. He will dwell on that later.
If Dazai feels equally as disturbed by it, he doesn’t let it show – not in his body language, or
in his voice, or in the emotions Chuuya can feel through their bond. It’s only when the blue
eyes look up from the cracks engraved into the kitsune’s body that he realises—
“Why are you keeping these on?”
—the bandages covering Dazai’s right eye are still there. When they don’t have to be.
The wedding, the bond, the love – whatever it was that helped him through it, Chuuya isn’t
scared of the power hiding in Dazai’s right eye. Not a single part of the redhead fears its gaze
anymore, he’s fine with it. He loves it.
He loves all of Dazai, so why—
“Precaution.” The kitsune offers an apologetic smile, his tails gently pushing Chuuya forward
to lean down again. “We don’t know how it would react to seeing my eye.” He soothes the
small frown from the boy’s face with one of his tails, flickering his forehead before brushing
his lips over the same spot. “And I don’t feel like testing it right now, like this.”
It adds to the spark of hatred in Chuuya’s chest, but there is no denying that Dazai is right.
This moment is meant to be nice, to be enjoyable – they don’t want to provoke that thing
when it’s finally quiet, when they can be together for the first time since that happened.
“Fine.” Chuuya huffs, half–accepting of what he’s being denied and half–annoyed at the
reason behind it. “But I like seeing it.”
“I know, Chuuya.” Their lips brush when Dazai speaks, breaths mixing together. “I know you
do.”
The kiss is slow, the last hints of hesitation fading as their lips slide together, seeking the
other more and more. It soon grows hungry, more fangs and tongue than before as they both
let the desperation that has been growing in their hearts take over.
Dazai’s tails weigh down more on Chuuya’s body, his hands caressing the heated skin and
sliding under the boy’s kimono. Rolling his hips teasingly, Chuuya sucks on Dazai’s bottom
lip, earning himself a low, satisfied growl. If it’s the exhaustion from all the sleepless nights,
or the longing after over three weeks of not seeking the redhead that makes Dazai more
sensitive, more eager – Chuuya doesn’t know.
Frankly, he doesn’t care that much.
He meant what he said: he wants to tire him out so that the kitsune won’t complain about
sleeping for a bit. And if in doing so he can get Dazai to let some of his restraints loose,
then… Well, he loves to witness it every time. Having a dead god in his chest doesn’t change
that.
Slowly, Chuuya moves lower, trailing kisses down Dazai’s jawline and neck. He isn’t as
possessive as the fox, and he surely doesn’t have Dazai’s fangs to leave bright red marks
anywhere he’d like to, but that doesn’t stop him from teasing the kitsune. He likes to indulge
Dazai’s possessive nature, even if most of his marks won’t last with the fox’s quick healing.
Those scratches on his face were a difference, but… that was different. If losing sight of
himself and hurting the one he loves is the price for being able to leave his claims on Dazai,
Chuuya doesn’t want it.
But he shouldn’t be thinking about it right now, or the kitsune will sense it and try to stop him
again.
So, instead, the redhead kisses and sucks and bites Dazai’s neck wherever he can, satisfied
with the appreciative growls it draws from the fox. He rolls his hips every now and then, in
time with more demanding bites, feeling Dazai slowly growing aroused under him. It’s only
when his lips press a kiss to the dark cluster over his chest that Chuuya stops. It’s not abrupt,
his blood is still rushing through his veins, but—
With half–lidded eyes, the boy brushes the spot with his fingers, his words finding their way
into the world without Chuuya being aware of it.
“We’re matching now.”
It’s more of a thought to himself, rather than something he wanted to voice out, but Dazai
hears it well. The kitsune’s fingers, tangled in the red locks, tug gently at the long strands,
urging the boy to look up and meet his gaze.
“The scars.” Chuuya says, offering a small smile as he sits up again, pushing his kimono to
the side until it slides from his shoulder, exposing a red–black line right over his heart. “They
match.”
Yet, they’re opposites.
Cold and hot.
Crack of emptiness and the seal of too much to bear.

A cluster of hundred small cuts and a single line that haunts its bearer.
“...I guess they do.” Dazai murmurs, sliding his hand down from Chuuya’s hair and to his
chest, fingers lingering over the scar for a long moment before trailing down and loosening
the kimono even further.
Chuuya’s belt falls around his hips and legs, untied. “Do you wish they wouldn’t?” The boy
asks.
“I wish you wouldn’t have to be hurt for it.” Pushing the material away, Dazai’s hands circle
the redhead’s waist, then slide down to his legs. “But I love every part of Chuuya, with all of
his scars.”
With the one scar, because whatever Yosano did to heal him, it made all of the smaller and
older ones disappear.
“You better.” The boy snorts, trying to sound nonchalant so as to not ruin the mood. “Or you
would have to start looking for a new husband.”
That, of course, is nothing but a lie. They both know Chuuya wouldn’t walk away no matter
what and that the marriage can never be renounced, not the one like this one.
“Ah, do not worry.” Fangs flash in a smirk, Dazai’s fingers pressing just a little more into the
back of Chuuya’s thighs, a feeling the redhead appreciates now more than ever before. “I
only have eyes for you, little human.”
“Good.” He rewards the kitsune with another, more intent roll of his hips. “Now, can you use
your tails and slide that bowl closer?”
Because Chuuya didn’t exactly plan on ending the evening like this – it just happened, not
that he’s complaining – so the bowls with oils they use are still by the wall, out of his reach.
He could stand up to get them, but Dazai is more than capable of reaching them for him with
how far his tails can extend. And, frankly, Chuuya doesn’t feel like moving from here. He’s
comfortable on top of Dazai, finally feeling like everything can be fine again.
Humming playfully, the kitsune cocks his head to the side on the pillow. “Which one?”
“I don’t know.” Chuuya’s hands palm Dazai’s lower stomach as he continues to move his
lower body in small, teasing circles. “Do you think you’re up for a knot, or are you perhaps
too tired for that, old fox?”
The answer doesn’t need words: only a wide grin and a bowl with the spell–cast oils sliding
closer.
Always up for the challenge, huh?
But because Chuuya is a man of his words, he doesn’t let Dazai prep him. Instead, he
slickens up his own fingers, warming the scented oil between his fingers before reaching
back with his hand.
It’s somewhat embarrassing, especially with Dazai’s piercing, red gaze never leaving him, but
it’s also exciting in a way, for that exact same reason of being watched. To feel the kitsune
tense with restraint and arousal under him, to feel the gaze burn on his skin and to hear the
low growls filling Chuuya’s mind – it’s intoxicating, filling the redhead with satisfaction.
As his fingers stretch him open, Chuuya can feel Dazai growing harder under him. The
kitsune is mostly still, enjoying the sight of Chuuya opening himself, but his tails have
always been too eager. They caress the skin of his legs and hips, on his stomach and chest
and back.
When Chuuya throws his head back on a gasped moan when three of his fingers thrust inside,
one of the tails trails the column of his neck delicately. Every brush is feather–like, while
Dazai’s fingers twitch as they hold onto his legs.
“Beautiful.” The kitsune murmurs, sliding his hand higher to where Chuuya’s thighs meet his
hips and the redhead’s cock twitches.
Dazai’s thumbs stroke the skin so close to it, yet not quite there, sending a shiver down the
boy’s body. His fingers start thrusting faster, as deep as Chuuya can reach, stretching him on
every slide out.
The fingers of Chuuya’s free hand dig into Dazai’s stomach when his fingers hit his prostate,
a jolt of pleasure shaking his body. His blush burns hot on his face and shoulders, and it’s a
struggle to keep his eyes open.
“Do you need help, little human?”
He doesn’t, Chuuya said he would do the work, and he will.
“No.”
Spreading his fingers one last time, Chuuya decided it’s enough – the spell will do the rest.
Besides, it’s not the first time he takes Dazai’s knot, even if it’s been a while and his body
may not be as used to it anymore.
“I told you.” He smirks at the kitsune, reaching between his legs to guide Dazai’s cock to his
entrance. “Stay still and let me do it.”
Dazai watches him sink down on his cock, the intrusion making Chuuya gasp out and moan
as his eyes fall shut. When their hips meet, it’s pure bliss. They’re connected as one, the
redhead can feel Dazai twitching inside and reaching deep, and Chuuya is so incredibly hot
and tight about him.
They’ve done this many, many times before, but this is different.
This is the reassurance they’re still themselves, they’re still alive and they want each other.
That while everything may change and the world around them may crumble down – they will
always stay the same.
The first roll of Chuuya’s lips is slow, a moan slipping from the boy’s lips at the same time a
growl echoes inside the room, unrestrained. On the second one, Dazai meets him halfway,
pushing his hips up to meet Chuuya sinking down on him in a small thrust.
He doesn’t take over, he completes the rhythm Chuuya sets.
All while admiring his human – his unmatched beauty, his stubbornness and the effort he puts
into pleasuring them both. How determined he looks. How satisfied with himself and
seductive.
How strong, despite the images of cut up skin and broken bones still feeling alive in Dazai’s
mind. It pushes Dazai to hold onto him tighter, to grip at his waist and rock his hips just a bit
harder. Chuuya can feel it, even if he’s still the one in control, but he doesn’t mind.
It’s a sign Dazai lets himself be his old, usual self. It’s a sign he isn’t afraid of hurting the
redhead with the gentlest of touches—
It’s what Chuuya wanted to feel again. And if they get to enjoy themselves for a while longer
because of it, neither of them wishing for his moment to end…
Well, sleep can wait just a bit more for them.
Dazai’s soft purring breaths is the only sound reaching Chuuya’s ears in the dark silence of
the room, the kitsune’s breath warm as it fans over his skin.
Finally, Dazai is sleeping.
Chuuya has only ever seen him sleep a few times, and it has always been shallow, the quietest
of noises would wake him up even if the redhead tried not to disturb him. But right now,
Dazai’s face is blissfully calm, eyelids heavily shut. Even his tails lie unmoving behind him,
tired.
It’s only Chuuya who is awake to witness it. Strange, considering how easily he gets tired
these days, how tired he was just a few hours ago.
Now, though? Chuuya’s eyes are open, his mind is awake and his thoughts wander.
Absent–mindedly, he trails the black lines over Dazai’s chest without waking the fox up,
sometimes tilting his head back to look at him, sometimes pushing closer to feel the heat
radiating from the kitsune – none of it stirs him awake. Not even a flinch.
Just how tired was he?

How far did he push himself for Chuuya’s sake and how much further would he have pushed
himself if no one had stopped him?
How much does he trust the redhead to allow himself to be this vulnerable around him, to let
his guard down so easily?
He’s keeping him caged here.
Chuuya’s lower body still feels sore from before, but it’s a faint, pleasant ache, reminding
him that nothing can get between them. That Chuuya will not allow anything to ruin what
they have. He’s glad Dazai can still look at him the way he did in the past, and that he can
still touch him as he used to.
He’s glad Dazai still loves him.
It itches.
It’s weird to think Chuuya considered any other option for even a second, that he doubted the
kitsune after all this time they spent together, after every obstacle they passed to get here.
It itches.
Did Dazai’s scars also itch when he first got them? Or was it only pain, the agony of dying
while being forced to stay alive?
Not there.
Ah, maybe he shouldn’t touch them too much, what if the fox wakes up after all?
That’s it. Here.
He wants to admire the sight of Dazai’s sleeping face for a while longer, admire the
peacefulness in his features and the quiet purrs that ring around his breaths. It’s only when
the fox is most relaxed that it happens, and it warms Chuuya on the inside every time to
know that he’s allied to hear it.
It itches.
He would have preferred to be able to see Dazai’s whole face, without any bandages covering
it, but it can’t be helped. If it comes at a risk, he won’t tempt Fate. Not this time.
Lower.
Maybe there really is hope for them, maybe it doesn’t have to end the way Yosano told them.
Nothing bad has happened since the incident – sure, Chuuya is on the edge more often than
not, but that’s a normal reaction anyone would have in his place.
Nothing hurts.
Nothing screams at him in his mind.

No one has shown up to try and take him away, as far as he knows anyway.
More. Stronger.
It’s not like the legends said anything about what would happen.
It itches.
It’s not like anyone can tell for sure how it’s going to end.
It itches.
Plus, Dazai is working so hard to help him, Chuuya trusts he’ll find a way.
It itches.
He trusts they’ll find a way together. They always do.
It itches.
For now, they should both be allowed to relax and—
SNAP!
Everything turns black.
.
…huh?
…what?
…where is he?
.
…what is this?
…who is he?
…Dazai?
.
.
…Daz—
SNAP!
Chuuya feels his breath being knocked out of his lungs, his head falls forward as he struggles
for air, his vision blurred and his whole body trembling. He’s sitting up on something and…
A hand is holding the back of his neck.
There’s a red eye staring up at him.
There’s Dazai lying under him, face twisted in a silent struggle.
There are Dazai’s lips, parted but with no sound leaving them.
There are…
Why?
…Chuuya’s hands around Dazai’s throat, squeezing?
Why?!
He didn’t, he didn’t, he doesn’t—
Panic floods his body in a silent wave of realisation. Terrified, Chuuya retracts his hands as if
Dazai’s skin burnt them, his heart racing despite how the boy can’t seem to catch a single
breath. He looks at his trembling hands with wide eyes and when Dazai inhales deeply,
coughing…
Chuuya did this.
Chuuya did this.
Chuuya—
“I–I didn’t…”
—needs to get away. He needs to stay away from everyone. This is his fault. How could he
have been so stupid? How could he have let it happen?!
“Chu—”
Before Dazai can say anything, Chuuya notices the bruises around the kitsune’s throat, he
feels how – despite everything – gentle the hand sliding from behind his neck is and…
“I’m sorry.” He jumps away from Dazai, falling on the futon and desperately trying to crawl
away backwards. “I’m sorry.” His back hits the wall, startling Chuuya even more. “I’m
sorry!”
How could he have done that?
Why would he ever do that?
What would have happened if he hadn’t stopped?
“I–I’m sorry.”
Why didn’t Dazai shove him away? Why didn’t he fight?
Did he?
Why can’t Chuuya remember?!
…he let that thing out, didn’t he? Right after saying he’s fine. Right after saying Dazai
shouldn’t worry about it and that he should just trust him. It’s—
It’s his fault.
He was stupid, he was ignorant, and he hurt Dazai because of it.
But it wasn’t him, but it was, but it wasn’t, but it was—
It’s hard to breathe, to focus, to hear past the ringing in his ears and the endless chants of ‘I’m
sorry’ Chuuya can’t stop.
He won’t stop.
He’s not allowed to stop.
Bringing knees to his chest, Chuuya tries to disappear, to not pretend he’s not here, but the
image of dark bruises around Dazai’s neck keep him chained to the here and now. His hands
are fisted in his hair, tugging at the strands to silence the whispers, to calm the throbbing in
his head.
“Chuuya—” Dazai’s raspy voice freezes the blood in Chuuya’s veins, sending hundreds of
needles through his chest. “I’m fine.”
When the boy slowly looks up, the light in his eyes gone and replaced by a panicked, self–
loathing darkness, he sees the kitsune kneeling not that far from him…
When did Dazai come closer?

Why would he come closer?
Gods, his neck is bruised all around. Why isn’t it healing?
Why isn’t it?!
He sees a hand reaching out to him slowly. “It’s okay—”
“Don’t!” His own voice startles Chuuya as he pushes back into the wall, trying to get as far
away as possible from the fox. “Don’t…” This time it’s barely a whisper, a plea, because he
can’t do this. He can’t pretend anymore, it’s too much. “D–don’t come closer. You can’t.”
What if it happens again?
Maybe Dazai should have stayed away from him from the beginning, maybe Chuuya
shouldn’t have tried to force them close again.
He was selfish and weak and he did this to him.
“Chuuya.” Dazai takes his hand back, but doesn’t move away otherwise. “Please, listen to
me.” His voice is still rough. It must hurt to speak, what if it hurts to breathe? “I’m fine.”
No, he’s not!
“You’re not!” How could he be fine when Chuuya tried to kill him?!
A heartbeat.
…he tried to kill Dazai.
Chuuya tried to kill Dazai.
He really did, those were his hands, these bruises are from him, and his fingers couldn’t stop,
didn’t want to stop—
“I’m sorry…”
His voice is shaky, words more choked out than spoken. His mind feels detached from his
body; Chuuya doesn’t notice how cold he feels, or the violent shivers rocking his body, or
how he can’t catch a breath before the air escapes him. The only thing he feels is fear.
Of himself, of the thing inside of him, of what he could have done—
Of what he may do.
…is he even himself right now?
Or is Arahabaki playing with him, making Chuuya think he has control when, in fact, he
doesn’t? What if that thing is waiting for Dazai to come closer so it can finish the job?
Is this regret his, or is it an illusion of free will?

Is it a lie? Is it honest?
Does he want to hurt Dazai—
“—ya.” That voice again. That pain. Again. “Chuuya.”
Closer. Dazai is closer again. The tip of his tail brushes Chuuya’s leg…
“N–no!” The redhead almost loses balance as he jolts to the side, away from the fox.
“Chuuya, please, listen to me.”
No.
“I’m fine.”
No.
“It wasn’t you.”
No.
“You didn’t do anything wro—”
NO!
“I tried to KILL Y—”
A pause, and everything inside of him finally shatters.
…yes, he did.
And saying, or maybe screaming, it out loud breaks the last strand of control Chuuya was
holding onto. His eyes fill with tears, his heart may have as well stopped and everything he’s
been holding inside, chained deep inside, seeps into his veins, bones and mind, driving him
crazy with doubts and guilt.
“I…”
What if he succeeded and this Dazai is only an illusion, a ghost?
But when Chuuya glances to the side, there is no one on the futon, it’s empty.
…or is it?
He felt Dazai’s tail before, didn’t he? Or was it just air? Did Chuuya imagine it?
“I didn’t…”
He didn’t… right?
“Chuuya…”
Dazai is here, right?
But The Flags also seemed real, but they were dead, and Chuuya couldn’t tell.
The boy’s mind screams to run, but his hand reaches out, fingers trembling. He needs to
know, needs to make sure. He’s scared that it’ll be only air, that there will be nothing there—
But Dazai’s hand meets him halfway, holding his fingers gently.
It’s real. It must be.
“I’m here.” It’s as if Dazai knows his every thought. “You didn’t do it. You—”
“I’m sorry.” Chuuya whispers. It’s the only thought he knows how to voice. It slips from his
lips on its own, without him even meaning it to. “I’m sorry.” Slowly, he moves closer, tears
trailing down his cheek and his eyes never leaving Dazai’s bruised neck. He doesn’t dare
look the kitsune in the eye, afraid of what he would see there.
Anger?
Disappointment?
Hate?
Because Chuuya hates himself – for not being strong enough, for needing to feel the kitsune
close after what he’s done, for losing sight of himself. He takes Dazai’s hand between his
own two, torn between squeezing it to reassure himself it’s real, and letting go so as not to
hurt him any more.
Every fibre of his being wants to run, hide away.
Every heartbeat and every tear wants to stay.
“I didn’t mean to.” He brings Dazai’s hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart and clinging
onto it desperately. “I didn’t want to, I didn’t know.”
He’s making up excuses, isn’t he?
“Chuuya. Look at me.”
No.
No, he can’t.
Squeezing Dazai’s hand tighter, Chuuya shakes his head. More tears burn on his cheeks as
the shadow of guilt cast upon his heart like a dark veil becomes too thick to see past. He’s not
ready to be hated. Anything but that—
“...please?”
He can’t—
The hand reaching out to him startles Chuuya. The boy flinches away from it, eyeing it
warily as it slowly settles on his cheek. It’s cool on the burning skin. Kind.
And so, so painfully gentle.
It guides Chuuya to tilt his head back, carefully enough that he could fight it if he truly
wanted to, if he had any strength left. A part of the redhead does want to – fight and run and
do something to hide from what’s waiting for him. But he doesn’t.
Despite everything, he can’t find it in himself to betray Dazai again. If the kitsune wants to
get angry at him, he has all the right to. If he wants to punish Chuuya, he can. If he—
“Are you okay?”
—huh?
Him?
“Is it trying to get in your head still?”
There’s concern written into Dazai’s expression, his eye scanning Chuuya’s face, looking for
the smallest signs. No anger, no frustration, no blame.
…only a darkening bruise around his neck.
A reminder.
“I—” Chuuya’s throat clenches, his lips trembling. “We need to get it treated.” He chokes out
instead, Dazai’s questions already forgotten.
The fox furrows his brows, wiping some of the tears from Chuuya’s face with his thumb.
“It’s fine…”
It’s not, it’s not, it’s not—
“...but I need to know, Chuuya. Is it in your head?”
It’s—
…not?
Dazai is in his head. Guilt and regret welcomed themselves inside, fear crawled back from
the deepest corners. But it all feels cruelly familiar, like the memories Chuuya keeps sealing
away every time they come back.
It’s… him, isn’t it?
Hesitant, but Chuuya shakes his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. The kitsune doesn’t
relax right away, his presence warming up the boy’s chest as Dazai peeks inside through the
bond, looking for what they both fear—
But it’s not there.
It’s violent with sorrow and frustration and confusion, but it is quiet.
“What…” Chuuya mumbles weakly, seeing Dazai letting out a relieved sigh. “What
happened?”
Because he doesn’t understand.
“You broke the seal I put around your neck.”
His eyes widen, body freezing. So it was Chuuya who let it out, he did it.
“I put a stronger one in its place.”
While Chuuya was strangling him.
“But I need to know if anything hurts—”
“You!” The boy cries out around a sob, his breathing erratic. “You are hurting! I can see it, I
need to—we need to do something!”
They need to treat it.
But how? What does Chuuya do to help?
Can he help?
Or should he leave, get as far away as possible before—
“...we will, little human.” It’s obvious how Dazai holds back the urge to say it’s fine, to say
that he doesn’t need it. “We will, but later. After I make sure you are fine.”
The words of protest almost slip from Chuuya’s lips, ready to argue in a desperate attempt to
reassure him that Dazai is okay before they do anything else, but his voice all but dies in his
throat when the fox brings their foreheads together.
Too surprised, Chuuya doesn’t move away.
“It will heal fast, Chuuya. I promise.”
“...”
“It wasn’t you.”
“But—”
“I don’t hate you.”

The words echo both in Chuuya’s mind and heart, a confession spoken aloud and through the
bond they share, even if it’s somewhat muffled with all the emotions swirling in his chest.
Of course, Dazai knows what Chuuya feels.
Of course, he knows the boy’s fears.
…and that’s enough to have him falling apart all over again, too overwhelmed with
everything. A mantra of ‘I’m sorry’ rings inside the room as the fox pulls him closer, closing
his arms and tails around Chuuya as he murmurs quiet words of reassurance into the red hair.
In the end, neither of them sleeps that night.
Dazai stays awake, but doesn’t busy himself with reading the scrolls. Instead, he watches
over the redhead, holding the boy’s hands close to his chest with one hand, rubbing slow
circles on his back with the other.
And Chuuya? He’s exhausted, physically and mentally, but he’s afraid of falling asleep. His
eyelids feel heavy and he does drift away to sleep every now and then, but he always jolts
awake right after.
He needs to stay conscious, he needs to stay awake.
If he lets darkness fall around him again, he may hurt Dazai, so he can’t sleep. Not with the
kitsune close, not alone, not…
Not ever?
But that’s not possible, is it?
It’s right before noon when Dazai feels the redhead fully giving in to his exhaustion.
Chuuya’s breathing evens out, his body going limp and his fingers finally stop trembling as
the blue eyes flutter close. Like this, he looks almost peaceful, if not for the reddened skin
around his eyes.
‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this’, Dazai finds himself thinking. It wasn’t supposed to
happen so soon.
Chuuya breaking the seal and the spell inside of it has always been a possibility, despite how
strong Dazai made it, but both him and Yosano thought it would take more time. That there
would be clearer signs of Arahabaki influencing Chuuya’s mind without directly reaching it.
They were wrong.

They underestimated the dead god, hoping for the best when the worst is happening before
their eyes.
Which means Dazai needs to hurry and find a way to help Chuuya fast, or something worse
may happen. Yes, he is tired, but that has never stopped him before and…
//I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.//
Seeing the red markings, however faint, and the white, mindless eyes return to haunt
Chuuya’s body and soul brought back the guilt and regret Dazai thought he could come to
terms with. It awakened the memories from that day, endless streams of blood leaving
Chuuya’s broken body while Dazai couldn’t do anything but watch and let it happen. Even if
this time was harmless for the redhead, even if he’s not in any physical pain—
Once light came back to his eyes, the kitsune saw it.
He saw the moment Chuuya’s mind shattered once again, unable to face what their reality has
become anymore. It felt like a single thread finally snapping under the weight of too much
pulling it down, the last grasp at hope and normalcy the redhead was holding onto.
Dazai got careless.
He wanted everything to be fine and he let his own desires cloud his mind, trusting that the
world would allow them to feel happy even for a short moment, while he should have known
better—
Life is never easy.
It’s merciless and cruel.
Last night was merely a reminder.
A reminder of what lurks inside of Chuuya, of the power that, once set free, is almost
impossible to fight against. It wasn’t even at its full potential, Dazai could feel it, and yet – it
was enough to catch him off–guard. He isn’t badly hurt, the bruises shouldn’t take more than
two days to heal but…
For him, two days may be nothing, but for Chuuya – they’ll be everything his guilt needs to
take control of his mind. And Dazai watched him give in to his shadow once, he watched
what it did to the redhead and how hard it was to get him back from the thorny embrace of
regret and self–loathing.
Will Dazai be able to do it again?
Will he be enough?
Slowly and as quietly as possible, the kitsune sits up and slides his arms under the boy’s legs
and back, carefully picking him up from the futon. He needs to search for a solution, but he
can’t leave Chuuya alone. Not after last night.
Was it because he was keeping this distance between them that he didn’t notice?
Is it Dazai’s fault for allowing this to happen? For pushing Chuuya into the whispers, all
alone?
The fox slides the door open with his tails, stepping outside and heading to his study. Chuuya
stirs in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up, only nuzzling into Dazai’s chest.
“Ryuu.” As on command, the wolf appears right behind him without making a sound. “Tell
me about last night.”
Because, almost as if Fate was playing a sick joke on them, Chuuya breaking the spell wasn’t
the only concerning thing about it. Dazai couldn’t move from their room, couldn’t leave the
boy alone, but he felt it – felt someone sneaking around the border he strengthened when they
got back from Yosano.
A stranger.
Or two of them.
They didn’t come too close, didn’t really do anything other than disturb Dazai’s night with
their presence, but it doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way. It’s too much of a coincidence for a
random demon to come into his forest while this is happening, after all the centuries Dazai
has been here.
“We went after the intruders the moment they appeared near the North side of the barrier.”
The boy says, lowering his voice so as to not wake Chuuya up. “But they were gone before
we got there.”
So they didn’t come to fight.
A good sign. For now.
“We’ve searched the entire forest inside and outside the barrier with Gin, looking for traps or
spells they may have left behind, but we found none.”
… is it a good sign?
Someone is clearly watching them, or at least watching the forest – it’s a feeling that has been
following the kitsune for the past few days, but he just couldn’t understand why, because he
couldn’t sense anyone actually staying close to the forest. But someone knows Chuuya is
here, and they’re waiting for something to happen.
Why?
Who is it—
“Did you recognise the scents? Was it one of Dostoyevsky’s toys?”
“No, Dazai–sama.” Ryuu doesn’t hesitate. “It wasn’t the bakeneko.”
Surely enough, it couldn’t have been that human either. Besides, from what Chuuya has told
him, Fyodor isn’t interested in what happens next, he did his part. Not that Dazai trusts that
fox’s words, of course.
“Whoever they were, they smelled like us.”
Stopping in his tracks, Dazai looks over his shoulder at Ryuu, narrowing when the boy
speaks up again—
“They were wolves.”
Chapter End Notes
I enjoyed that chapter more than I probably should...... :3

A Nightmare
Chapter Notes
No matter how many days pass, it doesn’t get easier.
Chuuya doesn’t forget that night, and he does exactly the one thing he previously feared
Dazai would do: he stays away, shrouding himself in doubts and shadows of the empty
rooms.
Every step he takes during the day, every breath he takes – Chuuya questions everything,
waiting and searching for the darkness to reach for him again. Because it’s there, they all
know it. The weakest headache could be a sign he’s losing control, the quietest ringing in his
ears could be fatal for one, or both, of them.
Day in and day out, the redhead doesn’t know if he's truly being himself, or if he's only being
allowed to watch what his eyes see and fool himself with the illusion of having control. He
tries to keep a tight hold of his mind but subconsciously…
Subconsciously, Chuuya is waiting.
For the time his concentration slips, for when his guard lowers again, and when that happens
– not if but when, because he knows it will come back sooner or later – he can’t be around
anyone. Not even Dazai.
Especially not Dazai.
Because the kitsune cares too much, he’s too reluctant to hurt Chuuya in any way, even if it’s
to save himself. Back then, when the redhead’s body, driven by the foreign hatred, was trying
to strangle him? Even if Arahabaki’s strength was on match with a demon’s while in a human
body, Dazai could have fought back. He could have tried to shove Chuuya away, to pry his
hands away from his throat by force, or even restrain him with his tails – he could have done
anything and, yet, he didn’t.
Because he didn’t want to hurt Chuuya.
Because he chose to let it happen and only try to put another spell around the boy’s neck
instead of helping himself first.
There is no guarantee he won’t do it again. No matter the love, or the bond they share, no
matter what they’ve both been through both together and apart, there is one reason Chuuya
can’t let it out around the fox: he trusts Dazai with his life and his soul—
But he doesn’t trust the kitsune with his own.
Because Dazai values Chuuya’s life and happiness above any of his needs and wishes. If
getting hurt, or coming close to dying, is the price he has to pay to makes sure the redhead
will be fine—
He’ll do it.
But Chuuya won’t have it.
Not at anyone else’s hands, and certainly not at his own two.
The bruises around Dazai’s neck disappear within two days, not leaving even a single trace of
the horrors Chuuya sees every time he closes his eyes for even a second: his hands around the
kitsune’s neck, the ghost of a murderous intent that didn’t fade quickly enough, that Chuuya
noticed.
The more he relives that night in his head, the more he loathes it.
That thing. Himself.
The fact that, even if it was only for a heartbeat, only for one blink of an eye, Chuuya
remembers wanting to do it, to hurt Dazai, get rid of him once and for all. He remembers
anger burning so hot inside of him that it physically hurt, resentment sizzling through his
mind – foreign, yet made to be his own.
What if it happens again? What if this time that thing— he will succeed?
What if Chuuya comes to wish to experience it again?
…staying away is the only option he has.
No one can force him to move if he chooses to stay in bed, telling the fox to read his scrolls
in one of the study rooms and away from him. No one can tell him he can’t sit by himself in
one of the empty rooms, embraced by silence and the ever–present shadows, curled in on
himself and repeating the same mantra he’s been whispering to himself for the past few days:
Don’t let it out. Don’t let it out. Don’t let it out…
Sleep becomes his fear, dozing off feels like willingly giving it control. He’s tired – so, so
tired every day, every hour. Staying awake exhausts Chuuya beyond belief, fighting off the
headaches and whispers takes all of his strengths, and the redhead isn’t even sure if those
melodies of doubt are Arahabaki’s claws reaching out for him, or not.
Don’t let it out.
Maybe they’re his own.
Don’t let it out.
Maybe it’s his own darkness, the one that has always been there since the beginning.
Don’t let it out.

Maybe he deserves it.
Don’t let it out.
Maybe they should all just burn, together with the world.
Don’t let it out.
Don’t let it out.
Don’t—
“Chuuya?”
The boy doesn’t move, doesn't so much as flinch when Dazai slides the door ajar just enough
to peek inside. His body is frozen, arms wrapped around his legs, his back barely touching
the wall and his eyes set on the floor. He’s here but he’s not.
Like this, he's fine.
Like this, everyone is safe from him.
“...” There’s concern echoing within his soul, two melodies of the same tone. "You haven't
eaten yet."
Because if he doesn't eat, if he doesn't have the strength to move – maybe then it will get
weaker too. Maybe he’ll be easier to overpower before he hurts anyone else.
"...I'm not hungry." He doesn't care about how Dazai can tell whenever he's lying.
"Do you want your partner to eat alone?"
Not that Dazai needs it. Or want it, for that matter. He shouldn’t even be here, he’s supposed
to focus on his scrolls and book and leave Chuuya alone.
"..."
A sigh. "I'm coming inside."
Curling even more on himself and making his body try to disappear from Dazai's sight,
Chuuya looks away from the door. He doesn't need the fox here. He doesn't need anyone to
be here with him. He chose to be left alone.
(Even if he's never truly alone, because Dazai is always there with him through their bond.)
The fox looks… better than that night. Maybe he's finally resting more regularly, or maybe he
got better at hiding the signs of exhaustion, or maybe Chuuya has grown numb to those signs
– whichever it is, for the second that the blue eyes glanced at him, he looks like his usual self.
If not for the concern clouding his eye, of course. But even that has become an integral part
of the kitsune’s expression.
Dazai doesn't sit down next to Chuuya, he doesn't try to trap him in a reassuring hug the boy
would reject because he knows it wouldn't help. Yesterday, when he tried, it ended up with
the redhead panicking at the contact – thrashing and jerking away from him as terror filled
the clear eyes once more.
Instead, he stands within three steps from the boy, giving him enough space not to feel
trapped, but still staying close enough to let Chuuya feel him. See the hem of his kimono
from the corner of his eye, hear the quiet sounds of Dazai's tails brushing the fabric and fur
behind the fox's back, feel his gaze.
Separate, but always close.
"I know what you're doing, little human." When he doesn't receive an answer, Dazai lets out a
deep sigh – not annoyed, but worried. Resigned, maybe. "And I can't say I like it."
Chuuya doesn't like it either.
Or maybe he does.
He doesn't know.
A part of him craves for Dazai to stay close, it's the same part that was getting frustrated with
the kitsune distancing himself from their intertwined lives merely a few days ago. That part, a
strong but muffled need, echoes in Chuuya's heart with every second they spend apart. It asks
for their past, it demands they act the way they're supposed to—
Like husbands.
Like two parts of a whole.
And not like this.
Dazai must sense it, he must feel it too, because this longing in Chuuya's heart? It echoes
both ways. His own desires sing with Dazai's, on the other side of the bond. It's their melody,
their unspoken wishes.
...but then, there is another voice. Caution Chuuya was raised to seek, doubt he grew to know,
fear and sorrow the world forced him to accept. It's his instinct, and it doesn't sing the same
songs as his heart.
It reminds him of what he's done, of what he's caused, of what could have happened. It
reminds him that, even if only faintly, their bond feels muffled – stretched thin, or as if there's
something in its way. It feels wrong.
Two voices fight inside of him, two sides of the same boy who once believed he could be
happy. Neither wins and both are pushing Chuuya further and further into the deepest corners
of his mind – to seek an answer and to run away from it.
'You don't have to be here if you don't like it.' is what Chuuya wants to say, but he doesn't. He
refuses to look or to speak more than he needs to, his only concern is—
Don't. Let. It. Out.
But, as is often the case, Dazai doesn't need to hear the words stuck in Chuuya's throat to
know what the boy's silence means.
"I can't leave you like this."
Maybe he should.
"Or maybe Chuuya should trust me sometimes."
He... That's not the point.
Feeling a new kind of guilt creep into his mind, Chuuya tightens his arms, bringing his legs
almost uncomfortably close to his chest.
"...who said you could talk to my thoughts."
Or emotions, rather. Whatever it is that Dazai can read without the boy wishing him to. He's
not sure what exactly Dazai can feel on his side, he only knows the fox feels more than him.
Another charm of being a demon.
"You did." Even without looking, Chuuya can tell Dazai's lips twitch with faint amusement,
woven into the affection of his voice. "When you married me."
It's light–hearted, meant to ease the tension from the air, and it does work…
Until, without thinking about it, Dazai stretches one of his tails to brush a long strand away
from Chuuya’s face and the boy flinches. It's not violent, he doesn't actually run away from
the soft fur, but it happened. And it shouldn't have.
"Chuu—"
"I'm fine." Letting out a slightly shuddering exhale, the boy closes his eyes and forces himself
to lean into the fur – or try to, anyway – hoping it will convince the fox of the things
Chuuya’s voice can’t. "I said I'm not hungry."
"You are entire centuries too young to be able to lie to me." Despite the mocking tone, the tail
stroking his cheek is gentle. Careful to the point of feeling almost shy in its moves. "Do you
want to make me carry you out of here?"
It's their usual teasing game, it's Dazai distracting him from the problem, it's… nice.
And too tempting, too much of a lie. Chuuya can't be tempted, not now, not when he needs to
make sure he doesn't let it out—
"...stop it."
But instead of giving up and leaving him alone, Dazai stays there. With the tip of his tail, he
tilts the boy's head back and Chuuya has to blink the weird sense of déjà vu away. He jerks
his head to the side, but the tail returns, nudging him again, but this time – it’s stronger. More
stubborn.
Don’t let it out.
He doesn’t have the strength to fight it, no matter how much he fears having to look at Dazai
when he’s like this – when nothing in his body and soul feels real anymore.
Don’t let it out.
The kitsune's teasing demeanour lingers in his features, but his face is more serious now –
lips stretched into a neutral, small smile, his eye bright red and his ears slightly lowered over
the dark hair.
"I value your free will, Chuuya."
His voice is dark, but not cold. Like a summer night, warm but—
"But I will do what I see fit if I must."
—still dangerous.
Struck silent with surprise, the redhead only stares at him for a moment. Dazai has been a
caring, overly clingy and worrying partner for so long that Chuuya almost forgot that there is
more to him. That the fox can surround himself with an aura of a demon if he wants to, can
sound threatening without ever trying to.
It's not something Chuuya fears, not anymore. It's a side of Dazai that has always sparked a
flame of interest in the redhead, even back when the boy would refuse to acknowledge it
himself. But he hasn't seen it for a while now – he didn't think he would.
Not here, in their home.
Certainly not like this.
"…” When he is the one faced with the unwavering expression as fondness and
understanding retract somewhere far, leaving Dazai’s eye. “...why?"
Brow arched high, the kitsune cocks his head to the side. "Because it seems Chuuya needs to
be forced into taking care of himself."
Unspoken 'again' lingers in the air between them.
"And because I can do it, whether you like it or not." Whether neither of them is going to like
it.
"...what happened to being afraid of hurting me?" It's cruel of him to use that against Dazai,
Chuuya knows it, but the words slip from his lips before the boy can stop him, unwillingly
spiteful.
But even if they sting somewhere deep in the kitsune’s heart, it doesn’t show from behind the
emotionless mask Dazai is hiding behind.
"Right now I'm more afraid of you hurting yourself."
"..."
Not himself.
Hurting it.
(Doesn't that mean both of them, though?)
It's both Dazai's gaze and his own mess of a mind that makes Chuuya hesitate, pressing his
lips into a thin line and trying to turn his head away. It doesn't work, another one of the
kitsune's tails stopping him and keeping Chuuya facing Dazai and everything that comes with
him.
How warm the fox’s fur is.
How exposed and powerless Chuuya feels.
How confused he is.
In one last, desperate attempt at making Dazai give up, the redhead forces a dark smirk to his
lips, his words mocking in a way that is supposed to sting, rubbing their past into the
kitsune’s face with unfamiliar distaste. "No more of the 'oh, so loving' husband act?"
But yet again, Dazai doesn’t seem to mind – he gives back exactly what he receives.
"No more of the stubborn 'I never run away' human act?"
...no.
Yes.
Maybe.
He doesn't know.
Chuuya doesn't know who he is anymore, or what he wants, or what he's meant to do, or feel
—
Nothing.
There is nothing about him that he's sure of anymore, and he doesn’t need the fox to keep
reminding him of that. But it’s only fair, isn’t it? Chuuya started it, he chose to reach for
venom in order to make Dazai leave him alone – of course, he deserves just as much back.
Or more.
He deserves it to be worse, because Dazai is only trying to help him, and all Chuuya ever
does is hurt everyone around him—
Sensing the dark clouds behind the boy's still so bright eyes, Dazai lets out another sigh.
Somewhat defeated, somewhat tired. Somewhat... lost.
As if he’s not used to it, as if he doesn’t know what to say to make it better.
To make it hurt less.
"Chuuya, listen to me." He kneels down in front of the redhead, his tails sliding from the
boy's chin down his arms, soothing. "If you want me to be gentle with you, I can. I will." His
fingers brush Chuuya's right arm, tracing the white patter on the skin there. "But I've been
doing that for the last few days and it's not working."
Because the redhead doesn't let it.
They both know it but neither of them says it.
"If me being gentle means you'll continue to starve and exhaust yourself until the breaking
point..."
A cold shiver runs down Chuuya’s spine at the mention of reaching a limit.
Don’t let it out.
Any kind of limit.
Don’t let it out.
"...then I'll do things my way. Your comfort is important to me, but not as much as your
health, or life."
When he meets Dazai's gaze, Chuuya sees the concerned crimson melting into a warm
brown. Its darkness is apologetic, but there is no regret in it. There's no hesitation. Dazai will
go through with it, no matter what Chuuya says and—
Maybe that's for the better.
Or maybe it's not.
Maybe it’s what they need.
Or maybe it’s a sign Dazai is trying to trick him.
But among all the conflicting thoughts, after being torn between choices he can't make… It
would be at least easy.
Right? Wrong? Those are too difficult questions to answer right now. They have rarely ever
been obvious in Chuuya's life – why would he care about them now?
"...so 'caring' isn't 'your' way?"
Distracting himself with a joke may not be what the boy needs, but it is what he settles for.
Although... Can it really be called a joke, not a doubt?
Which one is the real Dazai? The one Chuuya thought he had grown to know, or the one he’s
heard about in the old stories?
Was he tricking him?
Was it all a lie—
"Both are 'my ways', little human." Dazai's smile softens, his fingers sliding between
Chuuya's, stealing his hand away from the hold the redhead has around his legs. "I thought
you knew that."
He did.
He does.
He should know it—
"...sorry."
—but it's difficult enough to remember himself with all those whispers and shadows, let
alone someone else.
"I…” Don’t let it out. “I didn't mean it like that."
"I know." Dazai murmurs. "I also know it's hard for you, but—"
A small frown taints the kitsune's face when the boy avoids the hand reaching out to stroke
his hair, and Chuuya wants to scream at himself for it but he just can’t help it.
His body doesn’t listen.
His mind can’t stop the fears from crawling back.
"..." Retracting his hand, the fox settles on rubbing the boy’s wrist with his thumb instead.
"But you can't hide from me like this. I need to keep an eye on you, Chuuya."
He always does anyway.
Just because they aren't always in the same room doesn't mean Dazai isn't there, listening to
every heartbeat and every breath.
"You are." Chuuya’s lips twist into a grimace. "And you were the first to back away before."
That's not fair.
Chuuya isn't fair.

He shouldn't have—
"I was." Dazai agrees, regret painting his voice. "And I made you pay the price for it."
Blue eyes widen when the boy realises what the kitsune means. "That wasn't—"
"So let me help you, now." Dazai cuts him off before guilt can wrap its claws around
Chuuya's throat even more. "Because I will do it anyway."
The fox would prefer for Chuuya to go along with it, but he doesn't need it to be that way. He
wants the boy to agree, but…
Well, even if he fights and struggles, it will be futile.
And Dazai’s tone and growing cold stare is enough for Chuuya to understand how much he
doesn’t have a say in this.
Has he ever had a say in any of it?
Has Dazai ever cared for his opinion?
Standing up from the floor, Chuuya mumbles under his breath: "...I think I like your stupidly
loving side better."
Daza grins, more grateful than actually teasing. "Sorry about that, Chibi." He may not sound
fully satisfied, but there’s no denying the relief that washes over his face.
"Is it something Ryuu and Gin made?" Because Chuuya sure as hell didn't cook anything
today, or yesterday, or…
"No."
Then...?
"I did."
Despite having heard the words just fine, Chuuya isn't sure whether he understands what
Dazai means, because surely it can't be that, right?
The kitsune wouldn't waste his time on cooking on a normal day, let alone during a time
when he spends every second buried under mountains of scrolls and books, lost in the
research Chuuya has lost faith in. Not to mention his general animosity towards doing house
chores and...
Furrowing his brows, Chuuya looks at the fox suspiciously. "You don't cook."
"I just did, though." is Dazai's simple answer.
"But I thought you can't—!"

As the kitsune stands up, his ears twitch almost happily as a self–satisfied smirk stretches on
his lips. It's not quite a grin, it's not quite concern–free, but it's a ghost of the carefree days
they both remember.
It's familiar.
Just like the slightly arched brow brings back memories of many, many evenings and days
spent on bickering, just like the small tilt to Dazai's head fills Chuuya's chest with easiness
that doesn't belong in the here and now. Not anymore. But it tugs at his mind, forcing itself
among the ruins of his frustrated emotions.
"When have I ever said that, little human?"
He hasn't, not really. But true as it may be, Dazai has never dismissed Chuuya's assumptions
either and the boy stated several times how the fox ‘most likely cannot cook to save his life’,
so...
"...what is it?"
As one of his tails slowly stretches forward to nudge Chuuya out of the room while also
giving the boy enough time to accept, or reject, the touch, Dazai only offers his usual game as
a reply. "You'll see."
"But—"
"Trust me, Chibi." He follows Chuuya out of the room and into the corridor. "It won't be
bad."
It's not that Chuuya doubts him too much. "...okay." He’s simply sceptical about everything
recently.
But, as it turns out, maybe the redhead didn't have to worry at all. On the contrary, he
probably should have forced the fox to cook for him in the past, because he clearly isn't
helpless.
It's simple – fried vegetables over rice with a sauce that may be the same one as Chuuya once
made and stored for later – and it smells the way it should. It's the same recipe the redhead
does whenever he's feeling lazy, but to think Dazai would know it well enough to make the
dish himself...
"I've seen you make it enough times." The fox shrugs, either reading Chuuya's question from
his face, or hearing it from his heart.
And, well, it makes sense.
For better or worse, Dazai has a memory like no one else Chuuya knows – the only thing that
can rival it, in the boy's opinion, is his uncles' dedication to store away every single memory
from Chuuya's childhood, with ridiculous accuracy. But compared to that, and to the
countless spells and tricks Dazai calls himself a master of, learning one recipe shouldn't be a
problem. Or maybe he has tried it before and this is the end result of several attempts,
because Ryuu and Gin also see Chuuya cook more often than not, and their dishes never
smell this similar to what they are supposed to.
"Is there a reason why you never cared to help me make it, then?"
Sitting down on the cushion by the small table, Chuuya tries to lighten up the lingering
uneasiness he created before, offering Dazai a weak smile and a half–hearted roll of his eyes.
Despite having the table here, they rarely ever use it. The redhead prefers to eat outside, on
the engawa or on the grass, and the demons never mind.
But lately, with... everything that has been going on, Chuuya isn't as eager to go outside as he
used to be. If anything, he finds the confinements of the familiar walls around him soothing,
he finds it safer, even if that's only an illusion he willed himself into accepting. It is a pity,
because summer is already welcoming itself into their world and the weather is beautiful, but
Chuuya can't bring himself to admire it.
He can't bring himself to trust it.
And, while it doesn’t have to be anything important, Dazai also seems to be more at ease
when Chuuya is inside, rather than out. Even if it’s just in the garden, there’s a strange sense
of alertness in the fox’s demeanour – as if he’s waiting for another tragedy to befall them out
of nowhere.
"I recall it was Chibi, who said he doesn't like distractions in his kitchen, am I wrong?"
"Distractions, yes.” Like Dazai clinging to his back or poking everything with his tails.
“But..." A sigh. "Nevermind."
Who is he trying to fool? Dazai would just keep on being himself anyway.
"...it smells nice." Chuuya says instead, willing to acknowledge at least that much.
He can't ease Dazai's concerns, he can't act the way the kitsune wants him to – let himself be
helped and not run away from what Chuuya asked for himself not that long ago – but he can
appreciate the effort. And for Dazai, it's a start.
His ears perk up, proud, and his tails come to rest around where he sits down, pleased. "I'm
glad." The fox says from across the small table. His hands are hidden in the material of his
kimono, but two of his tails extend under the table's surface to Chuuya. Not to hold, but to
feel him there.
Here. With him.
"You should eat and then rest."
...rest, huh?
When was the last time Chuuya actually had any real rest, without jerking awake every time
his mind began to drift away?
"I'm—"
"---'fine'. So you've said." The fox leans forward, resting his chin on one hand. "And I also
said I will do whatever I have to to make sure it can actually be true."
"So what?" The redhead scoffs, taking his chopsticks reluctantly. "You'll put me under a
sleeping spell or something?"
"If I have to, yes."
...he wouldn’t, would he?
"But I doubt it will be needed. You look tired enough already." If he looks anything like he
feels, then Chuuya doesn't want to see himself in a mirror anytime soon.
Taking a bite of his meal, the boy mumbles under his breath. "A very subtle way to tell your
husband he looks like shit..."
"It's more subtle than what I remember Chuuya saying about me." Because that's just how the
redhead is, and Dazai was being stubborn at the time, pushing himself more than he should
for the sake of...
For the sake of keeping Chuuya safe. Just like the boy is now distancing himself for Dazai’s
sake.
They really are too similar when it comes to these things, aren’t they?
"But that was—"
It itches.
“That was…”
Huh?
Is that… blood?
Furrowing his brows, the redhead looks down at the bowl in front of him, at the table and...
Why is there blood around his bowl?
One drop, a scarlet tear that doesn't belong on the light wood. Then another, and another, and
another—
Dropping his chopsticks and not caring about how they fall to the ground, the boy brings his
hand up only to feel the warm liquid coat his palm. It's not just single droplets anymore,
there's more of it flowing out now.
But nothing hurts. He’s fine.
It can’t be.
He isn't injured, so why—
"Chuuya, let me."
As he turns his head around in the direction of the fox's voice, it's even more confusing
because… When did Dazai get so close?
"I..."
"You're okay." Funny, how nothing in Dazai's voice, or in his expression, indicates that the
kitsune believes these words. "It's just a nosebleed."
‘Just’ another thing that shouldn’t be happening.
Too confused to react at first, Chuuya doesn't fight it when Dazai's fingers wrap around his
wrist to guide his hand away, but when his other hand comes up to stop the bleeding with a
clean cloth...
No.
Dazai is close. Too close.
And this is a sign something is wrong. A sign something bad may happen.
“Don’t—!” Flinching away from the fox, Chuuya tries to free his hand as blood flows into his
mouth, down his chin and neck. It's hot on his skin, more than it should be despite how cold
he feels, his vision blurred.
"Chuuya, no, stop."
Something presses into his back, keeping the redhead from falling on the ground and getting
away. Like he's trapped again, trapped in that cave—
In this body—
"Just let me help, it's going to be fine—"
It's only a nosebleed. It's not the first time, it's nothing to worry about. But it shouldn't be
happening. There is no reason for it to happen.
Yet, the feeling of blood trailing down his neck and the taste of iron on his tongue is too real
to ignore it, too real to mistake it for anything else.
...and his eyelids are suddenly too heavy to stay open, his body too exhausted to fight.
There are whispers reaching Chuuya's mind, Dazai's voice asking him for... something
Chuuya can't hear, reassuring him of...
Ah, it's too far away now.

—
…so dark.
…always so dark.
…always only—
What a… strange feeling.
This place, this forest, this sky and sun, these sounds and colours. It feels like Chuuya knows
them but, for some reason, he doesn’t recognise where he is. He feels sluggish and rested, the
world around him bright and blurred all the same.
It’s strange, but… it’s right?
Like looking at a painting that only your hands remember bringing to life, not your mind.
“Dazai?”
But he can’t be dwelling on that, he came here to… to find Dazai.
…but why?
Ah, right. They had a fight—no, not a fight. It was… something happened. Something
Chuuya doesn’t quite recall and his mind doesn’t find it important to remember – but he
knows it ended up with Dazai leaving.
Because he was guilty? Regretful?
He told Chuuya he’s free to go back to his old life, to the human world, where he belongs. He
told him it’s how it should be.
Who was it that started it? Was it something that Chuuya did? Dazai?
The details feel even more blurred than the redhead’s surroundings, but they are not
important.
“Dazai?”
He thinks he sees him, but the small shadow that runs past him isn’t the kitsune, it’s… just a
fox. One of many here.
They are all around Chuuya, sleeping on the grass while sunlight warms them through the
trees’ crowns, or chasing each other playfully. It’s… such a nice sight. Soothing.
The animals all look healthy and friendly, their fur a similar colour to Chuuya’s hair and
blowing softly in the gentle breeze, and they aren’t scared of the redhead. They’re curious,
sniffing him ever so often as the boy walks around the area, brushing their tails on his legs or
looking at him with big ears perked up and heads tilted to the side.
Some of the foxes are bigger, but not a single one reaches higher than Chuuya’s knees. There
are pups to play with the hem of his kimono, tugging at it with their teeth while their parents
sleep curled up under the trees.
What a beautiful place it is.
How easy it is to smile here – why wouldn’t he smile, anyway?
But Chuuya can’t stay, because none of these foxes is his. None of them is Dazai—
Ah, there he is.
Letting out a relieved sigh, Chuuya walks up to one of the foxes sleeping among the tall
grass. It’s not a pup, but it’s small, and it doesn’t even look back at the redhead as he comes
up to it. The fox’s fur is that of faded red, the tip of his tail turning white, but its paws dark
brown.
“I found you.” Chuuya says. Or at least he thinks he said it out loud, because all the sounds
are somewhat muffled here, never truly reaching the boy.
The fox doesn’t answer, because of course he wouldn’t – so instead, Chuuya bends down and
picks it up from the ground. It’s small enough to fit in his arms, for the redhead to keep him
pressed to his heart.
“Did you think you could hide from me?”
Stirring in his arms, the fox stares at him with wide brown orbs, ears lowered at the sides of
its head.
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya holds the fox just a little tighter. “I know it’s you, Dazai.”
The fox lets out a quiet whine, a sound that sounds more like a pout than anything else, and it
makes Chuuya chuckle to himself as he starts walking… home.
That way, it must be home.
“Of course, I do. I would always recognise you.”
Because there is a specific way in which Dazai curls in on himself when he’s a fox, the
familiar patterns in which his ears and tails twitch that Chuuya has memorised. Whatever
shade his fur may be, the redhead will always know it’s him.
It’s only after these words that the fox’s fur turns white all along the small body, that the dark
eyes shine bright with red, and that Dazai stops fighting against Chuuya’s hold. Instead, the
kitsune presses closer into the boy’s chest, the only tail that is visible coming to rest over his
shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll carry you home.”
It’s no big deal. Like this, in the small fox form, Dazai is so light Chuuya can barely even feel
him. But he’s warm and soft to the touch and…
That’s weird.
Usually, when Dazai acts like this – childish and clingy – he would purr so loud it would be
the only sound filling Chuuya’s ears, and now he’s being quiet, to the point where Chuuya
can’t even hear his breathing.
Was he purring before?
He was, wasn’t he?
“Daz…”
It’s heavy. It’s cold.
“...zai?”
He looks down at the fox again and…
The body in his hands is hanging loosely from where Chuuya is holding the fox by the neck,
dark blood dripping down the white fur and to the ground.
…blood?
… his hands?
“N–no—”
But he was only carrying Dazai home, he was hugging him. It wasn’t like this, he didn’t do
anything, he didn’t—
“No, I—Dazai?!”
…where is he?
He was right here, right… there is only his blood. On Chuuya’s hands.
“No, no, no, no, get off—!”
But no matter how much Chuuya scrubs and scratches his skin, he can’t get rid of it. Crimson
blood covers his hands, reaching higher and coating his arms as dark marks appear under it.
‘I told you to go away.’

“D–Dazai?!”
No, it can’t be him.
‘I told you it’s better if you go.’
No, why is he—?!
…Chuuya.
Where is Dazai? Where is his body?
Why is his blood on Chuuya’s hands?
…Chuuya.
He needs to find him, needs to find Dazai, he can’t be dead!
…Chuuya.
He can’t leave him, not when he’s just found him! Not now. He promised, they both promised
each other!
…Chuuya.
But it’s so dark all around him, so quiet. Chuuya doesn’t know where ‘here’ even is, so how
is he supposed to find anyone?
How did he get here?
How does he get out?!
Where is Dazai?! Is he okay?! Where is—?!
“Chuuya!”
Someone’s hands are holding his forearms, someone is shaking him. Everything is dark,
everything is wrong—
“Chuuya, wake up!”
Chuuya’s eyes shoot open, his breathing heavy and his lungs feel like they’re on fire. He’s
disoriented, his vision out of focus and he feels cold.
So cold, like in that forest.
Like Dazai’s corpse—
“Chuuya, look at me!”

With cold sweat breaking out all over his body, the boy still struggles against this person’s
hold, trying to understand just what is going on when—
Finally, his eyes focus on what’s in front, or rather above him and…
“...Dazai?”
He’s… fine?
He’s okay.
He’s alive—
“I’m here.” The kitsune says, brow slightly furrowed as he looks at Chuuy. “It’s okay now.”
“But—”
“I promise you, Chuuya.” He looks worried, but his voice sounds honest, uncomfortably
close to pleading. “It was just a bad dream.”
A bad… dream?
But Chuuya doesn’t dream.
Never has, never… will?
“You passed out earlier, but when the bleeding stopped—”
Bleeding?
“—it seemed as if you were asleep, so I let you rest until…”
”But I don’t…” His voice is shaking, disoriented and disbelieving. ”I don’t… I don’t dream.”
Dazai should know it. Chuuya’s Dazai would, because he told him, long ago—
“...I think you just did.”
That was… not real?
That was what dreams are like? Despair and fear and blood and—
Every single night?
There used to be times when Chuuya was envious of those who could pass their nights in the
world of their mind’s imagination, dreaming the images he could never grasp for himself. But
this?
The calming peacefulness turning into his worst fears?
All the colours fading into bright red that wouldn’t let go of him?
If that’s what dreaming is, if that’s what Chuuya is supposed to see live through every time he
closes his eyes… He doesn’t want it. Let him drown in dreamless darkness, but don’t make
him go through it again.
Please.
“...it wasn’t real.” Dazai whispers, one of his tails brushing a stray tear away from Chuuya’s
cheek. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”
But it could be.
It was so close, so similar to what Chuuya almost did before.
It’s like his mind is showing him the possibilities, the risks, the fears and…
“I…”
What if those were his desires?
Dazai narrows his eye, trying to decipher what Chuuya means by that, but the boy isn’t even
looking back at him. Instead, the redhead is staring blindly to the side, his eyes fogged as if
they aren’t trying to see anything that’s in front of them. As if they’re staring somewhere far,
where Dazai can’t reach.
“You didn’t do anything to apologise for, Chuuya.”
“I did.” His voice is distant, breaking under the tide of guilt, stealing the air from his lungs
and pulling him deeper underwater. “I did, I—you were… dead. I—”
Dazai’s hands are still holding onto Chuuya’s arms when the kitsune leans down, pressing
their foreheads together. “It was just a dream. A nightmare. And this…” He plants a kiss on
the crown of Chuuya's head, feeling the boy shiver under him as more tears spill from his
tired eyes. “...this is real.”
“...”
“...and we need to patch you up now.”
Patch him up…?
“Huh?” Frowning weakly, Chuuya finally shifts his gaze to Dazai. “But you said…”
The bleeding. Now that the redhead is more lucid, the memory of blood – his blood – coating
his hand, and of the world slowly fading as his eyes couldn't’ stay open, resonates inside his
mind. Was it fatigue?
Was it because he refused to eat? To sleep?

Was it something else?
But Dazai said it stopped. Plus, it was a nosebleed, there is no way to—
“...” The concern tainting Dazai’s apologetic expression halts Chuuya’s line of thought. “You
scratched yourself in your sleep.” Another pause. “A lot.”
His chest doesn’t hurt, though? Neither does his neck, so—
Oh.
It’s his arms, isn’t it?
That’s why Dazai hasn’t let go of them, because he doesn’t want Chuuya to hurt himself even
more. That’s why there’s a faint sting to them that the redhead thought was only a memory
from the dream. That’s why, despite how Dazai claims he’s now awake, his arms are bloodied
when he glances at them.
It’s… his, isn’t it?
It’s not Dazai’s, right? The fox wouldn’t lie to Chuuya—
Right?!
In the end, the redhead doesn’t question what Dazai says anymore. He lets the fox bandage
his arms from the wrists up to the elbows, and he tries to avoid looking at the wounds, but…
He knows they’re there. He can feel them under the white gauze and he fears that, once they
heal and Dazai takes the bandages off, there will be the same black patterns clawing at his
skin as in the dream.
The reminder.
The proof that something is wrong with him, that he can be dangerous.
Because nothing can stay as it was, nothing can ever be easy.
That dream was only a beginning to the days and nights that follow. Days that Chuuya spends
hiding in the many empty rooms, flinching at the quietest sounds as his headaches grow
stronger. As the bleeding returns.
A red tear one time, coughing up blood another.
It’s never a lot, but it happens more and more often, and it’s driving Chuuya insane , because
he doesn’t understand. His body would never do that in the past, he should feel it when it
hurts and not just see the blood that shouldn’t have been spilled.
Sometimes, Chuuya can see the images that live inside his head in those crimson drops.
A dead body.
A face twisted in pain.
The blood whispers to him the words he can’t make out, and they sound so similar to the
ringing in his ears that never stops. Never lets him rest—
But it’s the nights that Chuuya finds himself dreading the most.
Because they are always, always the same. Even if Dazai is there to hold him through it all,
even if the fox will wake Chuuya up when he feels like the boy is suffering inside of his own
mind—
Those images, these feelings.
They always start peacefully, an illusion that Chuuya can’t not believe, only to turn into
torments and pain. In his dreams, the boy destroys the life and places important to him, kills
the people he loves. Dazai, Verlaine, Adam, Ryuu, Gin—
He hurts them so badly, and his mind is trying to convince him he’s enjoying it.
Sick satisfaction that isn’t his – can’t be his – but feels so close to his heart seeps into his
bones after every night.
These dreams… they feel so real sometimes, it’s becoming difficult to distinguish between
them and reality. If Ryuu comes to bring Chuuya tea, will reaching out to the wolf hurt him?
If Dazai is there to clean the blood, will trying to find comfort in his embrace kill the fox the
same way it did before, in Chuuya’s head?
Because the whispers sound the same, dreams or not. The line gets blurred.
To Chuuya’s eyes, reality becomes his dreams’ reflection and—
He can’t.
He can’t do it, he can’t stand it anymore.
…but he doesn’t have a choice.
A month of trying to find a solution. A month of trying to feel fine.
(Two weeks of being observed by the eyes hidden in the night, by those who are waiting for
the right time and by the one who is slowly preparing for that single moment.)
The clock has barely just started ticking and Chuuya is already so tired of it all, not knowing
which shadows are real and which aren’t truly there. He wants to believe in Dazai, he wants
to trust him, but…
It’s been a month.
And it’s beginning to hurt again.

Chapter End Notes
Please ignore me being late, been changing timezones a lot and it confused me too much
😵
Lost Shine
Chapter Notes
The first time it happens, Ryuu and Gin are right there with him.
They’re all sitting at the table in the main room, the food in front of Chuuya already cold
before the redhead even reached for his chopsticks. He’s staring at it, waiting for the moment
it turns red with blood, or for the feeling of falling into a bottomless pit right before someone
wakes him up – because this is a dream, right?
Or is this real?
How is he supposed to tell? How is he supposed to trust this image he’s seeing?
It must be a dream, because it’s been too peaceful ever since Chuuya got out of the bed –
since he thinks he got out. Maybe he’s still there? The itching around his neck and chest isn’t
as bad, the whispers echoing inside his heart aren’t as disturbing, there has been no blood
anywhere, and the Akutagawa siblings are smiling at him, unharmed—
Yet.
They aren’t hurt yet.
But they always end up covered in blood when Chuuya is around, don’t they? Their bodies
torn to pieces, their faces pale and lifeless, staring at Chuuya with eyes that hold no light in
them—
“Chuuya?” Ryuu’s voice rings closer than the redhead expected it to, and he flinches when a
hand settles on his shoulder. “Are you tired?”
Yes.
So horribly, terrifyingly tired of it all—
“...no.” He glances at his shoulder, then at Ryuu’s face, hesitantly brushing the hand off.
“Were you saying something?”
“...”
The siblings exchange a look, brief but telling, and something dark stirs in Chuuya’s gut.
Why are they like this? What do those looks he gets from them mean? Are they keeping
secrets from him now?
Do they want him gone the same way Dazai does?

“I was saying…” Coughing into his sleeve, Ryuu straightens his back. “...Guivre came back
earlier today.”
Ah, that was… quicker than the boy expected.
Is uncle Paul somewhere close? Can he feel there’s something wrong, despite how Chuuya
tries to write all his letters in the same manner as ever before?
It shouldn’t be possible, not when Verlaine can’t actually see Chuuya’s expression when the
redhead writes out his lies, or hear his strangled tone. They last saw each other at the
wedding and no matter what small differences there may be in the way the boy usually
speaks, it should be easy to blame it on that. Unless someone told him the truth, but the
redhead made both Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings promise they wouldn’t say anything
before he did. They wouldn’t lie to him about it, they wouldn’t betray him like that…
…would they?
Letting out a sigh, the boy looks back at his plate. “I’ll go see it later.”
Will it be yet another nightmare where he kills the poor bird?
“Are you going to tell your uncle about…?”
About what?
That he’s dying? That he’s a monster?
That no matter how hard he tries, it’s never enough, because the dead god inside of him is
stronger and giving up the fight has felt so tempting recently—
No answer comes, only silence.
“...do you not like the food?” Gin asks from next to Ryuu, and Chuuya only furrows his
brows.
“I haven’t tried it yet.” Even though he’s spent hours sitting here, in this spot. Or maybe
minutes. It surely feels like days have already passed.
Why does he even bother, anyway?
Why does everyone try so hard to make him eat, or sleep, or talk—
“Would you like something else?”
Why can’t they just let him be?
His frown deepens. “No.”
He would rather be left alone.
“Chuuya…”
His head snaps at Ryuu, the words more hissed out than spoken. “I already said—” But then,
it finally comes, and hits Chuuya so suddenly he loses his balance.
It’s not just another wave of coughed up blood, not just the dizziness he’s grown disturbingly
used to – this time, Chuuya feels actual pain shooting through his body, all the way from his
gut to his throat. Like a burning needle piercing his insides, or a hundred thorns flowing with
the blood in his veins.
“Chuuya!”
Ryuu’s hands come up to his shoulders when Chuuya falls forward, painting the wolf’s
kimono with his blood as he struggles to take a breath. The pain doesn’t let go, seeping into
his bones as the boy feels someone help him lie down and hears a new voice ringing inside
the room—
Dazai.
Or is it?
Has he been watching them this entire time?
Has he been waiting for this to happen?
Forcing his eyes to open is like fighting a battle he can never win, a pointless struggle before
his eyelids slide shut again to chase the pain away, to force it down.
“Don’t try to move, Chuuya.” Someone says over him. “Gin, go get Yosano’s spells.”
But a brief moment of clear vision is all the redhead needs – there’s Dazai hovering over him,
Gin getting up from her seat and Ryuu… There’s blood on his clothes. Blood that isn’t his
own, unless…
Unless it is. Unless Chuuya hurt him.
Again.
Unless this is a nightmare, and if it is—
“Get off!”
—he needs to stay as far away from them as possible.
He doesn’t recognise his own voice when the snarl leaves his throat, every muscle in
Chuuya’s body screaming in pain as the body tries to get away from the kitsune. From the
wolves. From everyone.
“Chuuya—”
Dazai reaches for him and so does Ryuu, but…

They can’t.
They can’t.
They have to get away before it’s too late again—
“I SAID GET OFF!”
It takes one drop of fear–induced hatred, one traitorous wish for all three of them to disappear
– it takes just one doubt for the claws of ancient power to crawl back to the surface and graze
the walls of Chuuya’s mind like a starving beast. His body moves on his own, pushing Dazai
away with the strength he shouldn’t have and for his arm to snap at Ryuu, tearing his clothes
and skin as too sharp to be human nails leave long lines of blood on the wolf’s body.
At the same time, Gin’s clothes catch on fire, red flames tainted with darkness, and once
Chuuya blinks the red fog from his eyes—
He watches the scene in terror.
Because it came true.
Ryuu’s blood mixes with his own on his hand, dripping down his arm – just like in his
nightmares. Just like every single night—
“I—I’m—”
Sorry?
Thrilled?
“Chuuya, calm down.” Dazai’s voice is forcefully careful, just like his movements are slow
as he tries to get closer again. “We’re trying to help you.”
It hurts, on the inside.
“I’m—”
It hurts, where he scratches his arm, wishing his own blood will be enough to wash Ryuu’s
away.
“It’s a dream.” The redhead mumbles, diggin his nails even deeper into his arm. “It’s—”
“It’s not.” When Dazai kneels next to him, the kitsune grabs Chuuya’s hands and pryes them
away from the long wounds. “We’re all fine.”
It’s a lie.
But this is Ryuu’s blood, isn’t it?
It has to be.
It’s a dream and Chuuya’s dreams always end the same way.
The way he craves them to end.
With blood.
With satisfaction.
With death.
With hunger.
All at his own two hands—
“...away.” Chuuya breathes out around a bloody cough, pushing Dazai away once more. “Get
away. Get away. Get away!”
“Chuuya—”
“GET AWAY!”
He feels nauseous from the pain but pays it no mind, scrambling to his feet and running out
of the room – away from the images that haunt him. The blood on his hands is sickening, the
satisfied growls ringing in his heart make him want to rip his insides out. The boy can hear
the others calling out to him, their voices muffled by the loud ringing in his ears and—
Another wave of pain crashes his body.
His vision grows blurred, then dark as he loses his balance and…
The next thing Chuuya knows, he’s lying on something soft.
The pain, it’s gone, and so is the ringing in his ears. There’s no stench of blood around him,
no shouting, only—
“How are you feeling, little human?”
—only a hand resting on his head, gently brushing his hair.
“Does anything still hurt?”
Slowly, Chuuya opens his eye, blinded by the light coming from the window at first but then
focusing on the kitsune looking down at him – at the worry Dazai tries to hide behind a small
smile, at the concern that dances in his eye. And it’s the red glint among the dark pit that
brings back all the memories.
Of pain.
Of blood.
Of running away.
“I…”
Of hurting everyone.
“...it was a dream, right?”
Slowly, Dazai shakes his head. “It wasn’t.”
“But…” But the pain is gone and… “Ryuu.” A cold shiver runs down his spine. “Where is
Ryuu? How is—”
“He’s fine.” The fox reassures him, gently but firmly pushing the redhead to lie down again
before he can fully sit down. “Gin, too. They’re both fine.”
“But—”
“The scratches were very shallow and the fire didn’t even reach Gin’s skin. Don’t worry
about it anymore.”
…how can he not, when he caused it?
Again.
When it’s all his fault?
And he’ll do it again.
“Are you still in pain, Chuuya?” Dazai nudges him, searching the boy’s face.
…he?
“I used what Yosano gave us but I need to be sure.”
How can Dazai be worried about him at a time like this?
He doesn’t deserve it.
Turning on the side, Chuuya covers himself even more with the comforter, hiding from
Dazai’s gaze, from the world’s sneers. “I’m tired.”
“Chuuya…”
“Don’t.” Squeezing his eyes, the boy tries to stop his voice from shaking. “Just… don’t. I’m
tired.”
“...”
“It doesn’t hurt.” Not physically, anyway.
“...do you want me to stay with you?”

Curling on himself, the redhead exhales a shaky breath. “No.”
He just wants to be left alone, he wants everyone else to be safe from him and he wants to
pretend none of it ever happened.
Not Arahabaki.
Not the nightmares.
Even if it’s only an illusion, Chuuya wishes he could go back to the days when he
remembered what happiness felt like, when he wasn’t afraid of what his own two hands may
do. When life was easier, when he wasn’t hurting the people who tried to help him through
ever rough day he may have had—
“...get some rest, then.”
The kiss Dazai plans on the back of his head feels almost like a curse.
A reminder.
A lie—
“I’ll be close if you need me.”
When he’s left by himself in the room again, Chuuya thinks back to everything that has
happened. To every time hatred kissed his heart, leaving behind a poisonous trail. To every
drop of blood that escaped his body against his will. To when he tried to kill Dazai. To every
nightmare—
How much longer can he take it?
How much more until he finally gives up?
The headache is back, his body itches all over.
Dazai’s words of reassurance make him nauseous, because Chuuya isn’t sure if he can
believe them anymore. Closing his eyes only shows him the horrors of his mind, so the boy
keeps them open, staring blindly at the wall of their bedroom and willing himself into
believing it’s the day right after the wedding.
It’s impossible for his life to feel like a misery when the sun shines so brightly and the breeze
feels so warm on his skin, isn’t it?
It’s impossible for everything to fall apart when their little world looks the same – the same
two silver bowls standing in one corner, the same stack of papers and painting supplies in
another, the same…
Chuuya’s heartbeat speeds up when he sees the small, wooden box far from the futon. He
grips the comforter tighter, lips pressed into a thin line and his mind racing with doubts and
fears.
He should.
But he can’t.
But what if it helps.
What if it breaks him—
Chuuya’s breathing is heavy as he slowly pushes himself up. He crawls to the wall, reaching
for the box with trembling hands, gripping its lid for a long, hesitant second before taking a
deep breath and—
//It's a flower that never wilts, taken from the tree that has roots here but blooms in the gods'
world. It'll stay as it is forever but...//
The hair ornament with a glass like flower is there inside the box, right where Chuuya put it
on their wedding night.
//...it'll only shine when it's touched by a gentle soul.//
And its petals are dark as his fingers brush them, cold to the touch despite the warmth it once
held while on his palm.
//The flower doesn't lie, lad.//
Not even a single sob shakes his body as Chuuya feels himself succumbing into the darkest
thoughts, into his deepest fears, feeling stupid for ever allowing himself to hope in the first
place, because…
…it really doesn’t lie, does it?
The smell of blood isn’t anything new to Dazai. His past self bathed in it, his hands killed
until the world was painted with red and terror, until even his shadows were leaving a
crimson trail behind, where he’d go—
But this is different.
No matter his past, or present, no matter how natural the scent and the sight of suffering is to
him – growing used to smelling Chuuya’s blood being spilled feels wrong.
It lingers in the air at all times these days, filling the kitsune’s lungs with the scent of fear and
pain, whispering regret into his mind. Even when it’s not much, even when it’s merely a few
drops – to Dazai’s senses, the smell of it grows strong. It seeps into his thoughts; every fibre
of his being wants to get to Chuuya as fast as possible and help him through it, but he can’t.
Most of the time, there aren’t any wounds to be treated.
There isn’t anything he can do to make it easier for the boy.
To make it worse, with how often it happens and how, according to Chuuya, little blood is
spilled in most cases, Dazai finds himself torn between the need to be there for the redhead
and searching for a solution, leaving the boy under the Akutagawa siblings’ care. It’s easy to
drop everything and run to Chuuya every hour or so, but it’s hard to focus on what he’s
supposed to be reading when the scent of blood clouds his mind with concern and guilt.
When he can feel the seconds slipping by.
Odasaku couldn’t help.
Yosano couldn’t help.
Kouyou said it’s not too late yet, but she doesn’t have all the answers, either.
And Chuuya—
Chuuya is slowly succumbing to the thing clawing at his heart from the inside. Dazai can not
only see but also feel it. With every passing day, the shine in the blue eyes fades, replaced by
the madness taking over his body and mind. Whispers mumbled by the redhead echo inside
the house, carried by the silence right to Dazai’s ears. Trying to reach for Chuuya is always
met with the boy trying to run from him. Holding him through the nightmares that leave the
redhead screaming every night isn’t enough anymore.
It hasn’t even been that long since Arahabaki’s dead essence was placed inside of him, and
Chuuya is already becoming a shadow of the human he once was. The human he deserves to
be and the human that Dazai remembers feeling in his soul.
He still does, a part of Chuuya is always with him, filling the void that was left cold and
empty for so, so long before, but… on the other side, it’s different now. Every emotion, every
thought – once, all of it was clear to him, but not anymore. Through their bond, Chuuya was
like an open book, like a poem meant for Dazai to admire and hold close to his own heart.
There was a time when he could feel the boy under his fingers even when they were apart,
whispering to his mind when the words wouldn’t reach his ears.
Now… he can only try.

The bond is there, Chuuya is still waiting for him on the other side of it, but… it’s muffled.
The fox doesn’t know if Chuuya can hear him the way he used to, if the image Dazai is
extending his thoughts to isn’t only a mirage left behind by something that isn't there.
Sometimes, the bond burns hot, other times it’s eerily cold.
Sometimes, there are screams ringing from the depths of Chuuya’s soul, other times… it’s
quiet.
Too quiet.
So much so that Dazai can feel that thing among all of it – the intruder, the sleeping beast that
is hurting his human. It stirs ever so often, and every time it does – it means more blood.
More nightmares. Proof of how powerless Dazai truly is.
Even now, he can’t do anything despite how strong the smell of blood carries itself through
the air. He can’t help, can’t go to Chuuya because the boy won’t let him. The longer it goes
on, the more he refuses any help offered to him, afraid of the scenarios his own mind has fed
him with.
‘Because it’s nothing’.
‘Because it’s just a few drops’.
He gets angry when the kitsune tries to clean it for him, glaring at him with the flame that
isn’t his, or pushing Dazai away, hiding from him in the shadows of the many empty rooms.
Not even Ryuu and Gin are allowed to help him anymore, ever since the last time that he did
get hurt. Since the first time it wasn’t just a few drops, or an insignificant ache, but pain that
made his body scream.
The only times Chuuya will accept their help is when he exhausts himself to his limits, when
consciousness slips from his hold and submerges him in the boiling darkness, in his fears and
a dead god’s rage.
Centuries of knowledge can’t do anything for him.
Dazai’s entire life of always having a plan, of always knowing what’s best—
It’s worthless. All of it.
There’s nothing in any of the scrolls except for inconsistent legends and spells that would kill
the redhead, and—
’Hurts.’
…Chuuya?
’It hurts.’
The scent gets sharper, a cry almost too quiet to hear reaching Dazai’s ears from… the
bathing room. There’s pain vibrating through their bond, not too strong, but it’s there, clearer
than before.
“Chuuya!”
Not even a second later, the fox is sliding the door open, lighting up the dark room with the
blue fires floating in the air and focusing his eye on the boy sitting in the wooden bathtub.
His face is stained with pain, he’s hugging one of his arms to his chest and…
The water.
It’s red.
“I–I didn’t…” There’s panic in Chuuya’s eyes as he looks up at the kitsune, disoriented. “I
didn’t do anything. It just… on its own…”
Willing himself to stay calm, Dazai steps closer, kneeling next to the bathtub. “Let me see.”
But Chuuya only shakes his head, tightening the hold on his arm and forcing more blood to
spill into the water. “I didn’t. It wasn’t me…”
The scratches he made last time have healed by now, it shouldn’t be possible for them to
reopen so easily, so it must be something else. But Dazai can’t know how serious it is just
from the tainted water that makes it look so much worse, as if Chuuya was bathing in the
blood that he spilled.
“I believe you.” The kitsune reassures him, slowly reaching out to grab Chuuya’s hand. “But
let me see.”
The boy’s breathing grows more erratic, his eyes following the kitsune’s every move and his
fingers digging into the fresh wounds. “It… It’s nothing.” He whispers weakly, pressing his
back into the edge of the tub.
“It’s not nothing, Chuuya. You’re hurting.”
Dazai doesn’t care about his kimono getting soaked with blood–painted water, he couldn’t
care less about it when the redhead finally lets him examine his arm. Chuuya lets out a quiet
whine when his arm is stretched, hissing in pain when Dazai’s fingers come too close to the
long cut wrapping itself around the boy’s arm like a spiral. The wound itself isn’t that deep,
but it’s long and stopping the bleeding would be too tough for one person.
And it’s not normal, not something that may happen by accident. Chuuya couldn't have done
it even if he tried.
“...it hurts.”
“I know it does.” Looking at Chuuya’s face, Dazai can’t help but frown in concern. “Can you
stand up on your own? We need to get it treated.”
Somewhere not this wet, preferably.
The boy gives him a small nod, supporting himself on the edge of the tub with his free hand
and standing up from the bloodied water—
“Agh!”
—when he suddenly falls down, water splashing all around. Or he would have, if Dazai
hadn’t caught him in time.
“Chuuya—!”
“My leg.” The redhead hisses through clenched teeth. “It hurts!”
When the fox looks down, a cut similar to the one on the boy’s arm scratches around it,
circling Chuuya’s shin and thigh as more blood pours out of it. The redhead’s body is being
torn from the inside. His side of the bond is sizzling with rage so violent and mindless it
sounds like a beast’s roar.
Without a second thought, Dazai picks the boy up, scooping him in his arms and whispering
soft apologies when the action makes him cry out in pain. “Shh, I’m sorry, but please bear
with it for a moment.”
The supplies from Yosano are in their bedroom, so are clean towels and—
“It hurts…”
—no past resentment, or the fox’s selfish pride, is worth watching his human being in pain
every day and every night. It’s not worth risking losing him.
Dazai wishes he wouldn’t have to do it, for many reason, but if there’s even a faintest spark
of hope, a shadow of it even—
He’ll go there and…
“Em… Kunikida–san?”
The blond man stops, turning around and looking up from the book he’s holding in one hand.
“Is something wrong, Atsushi–kun?”
“No, well…” A grimace quickly passes through his expression, a humourless smile. “A little,
yes.”
When the man arches a brow at him, Atsushi wills his lips to stretch into a polite smile
instead. It’s not genuine, because what Ryuu has told him is nothing short of worrying, but he
has to try – he promised he would and he wants to.
“Do you think I could, em, talk to Fukuzawa–sama very briefly?”
To get anywhere close to the god, everyone has to go through Kunikida, unless the god
himself decides to stroll out of his chambers. Which, as Atsushi has learnt during his time
here, doesn’t happen often.
“Talk to him?” Kunikida’s gaze doesn’t leave the tiger for a second and when he speaks, his
voice isn’t quite surprised. It sounds well trained, a question that the man already knows the
answer to but deems it important to ask anyway. “May I ask for a reason?”
It’s not forbidden to want to talk to the god you serve, but it’s true that it’s an unusual request,
especially from Atsushi. The boy doesn’t like bothering others when he doesn’t have to, and
he’s busy with his work most of the time anyway. He’s met the god in the past, a few times
actually, but that’s mostly during some sort of celebrations, or when a new servant is hired
and Fukuzawa comes out to greet them.
“I’m… I’m trying to help…” Uncertain of how to name it, the tiger hesitates. “...a friend?”
Ryuu’s friend?
Or is he allowed to call Chuuya his own friend as well?
“A friend?” Kunikida repeats, pushing his glasses higher. “One of those people, I suppose?”
Atsushi doesn’t answer, his lips are pressed into a thin line and his hands clenched at his
sides. He doesn’t want to argue with Kunikida, not about this, but he promised Ryuu he
would try and he’s determined to do it. He wants to do it, wants to help.
He just very much doesn’t appreciate the man’s tone right now.
“Is that a problem?”
But before he can say anything else or push the guardian spirit out of the way, Kunikida lets
out a sigh. “Very well.” Then, he turns away. “Come on, then.”
“Huh?” Atsushi blinks, confused, then runs up to the man who is already walking ahead.
“That was… easier than I thought.”
“Who do you take me for, Atsushi–kun?”
The boy can’t help but fall quiet at the question, his cheeks reddening slightly in
embarrassment and guilt. Maybe his expectations about Kunikida’s response were a bit too
harsh but there are reasons for it. Kunikida isn’t a bad person, he knows that much, but that
doesn’t mean it’s easy to deal with him – especially about the stuff that touches outside of the
man’s moral bounds.
“...you aren’t always supportive of my choices, Kunikida–san.”
If anything, the spirit has been very vocal about his opinions on the matter.
“I don’t approve of your relationship with that fox, or his servants.” And he’s made it clear
enough to the both of them, many times. “But I won’t stop you from trying to help someone
you seem to care about when I see you’re this worried.”
That… suits Kunikida well. To look past what he doesn’t agree with and accept the parts that
truly matter.
“Besides…” The man continues, his brows furrowing. “That boy’s case, it’s quite
unfortunate.”
Yet again, Atsushi finds himself blinking in confusion. “You know about it?”
“Of course, I do.” Another sigh. “It’s my role as a guardian spirit to know about any possible
dangers to my god’s subjects.”
The last comment stings, and the tiger has to force himself to stay calm. “Chuuya–san isn’t a
‘danger’, he’s—”
“He wasn’t one.” Kunikida corrects him, stopping in front of the huge door with floral
patterns engraved into it. “What he is now isn’t as straightforward as you would like it to
be.” His frown deepens as he reaches to push the door open, voice more quiet now. “Or as I
would like it to be.”
The inside of the main room – a throne hall, if you will, though no one calls it that around
here – is the same as Atsushi remembers it from the last time. Spacious but warm, with light
coming inside from the big windows and cats napping on the floor every here and there.
Where the animals are coming from, no one really knows, but they seem to always linger
around, no matter how many days or decades pass.
“I’ll be in my spot if you need me.” And just like that Kunikida walks inside and up to the
small table in the right corner of the room, where he spends his days working on whatever
tasks he’s been given.
At the end of the room, there’s another table… and a man sitting on a cushion behind it. He’s
wearing a dark green kimono and a black haori draped over his shoulders. His silver hair falls
on his face as he’s reading the scroll laid in front of him on the desk, one hand gently petting
a cat napping on its surface.
There’s an ever–present aura of calmness around him, making Atsushi feel instantly at ease
no matter the concern that was tugging at his heart before. But there’s also power emanating
from the man, like the still air right before the storm. His features are sharp and his eyes look
up to meet the tiger’s before the boy can make even the quietest sound.
“Atsushi–kun.” At the sound of his name, the boy bows, bending almost in half as his tail
straightens up behind him. “How can I help you?”
“I…” Looking up, the boy swallows dryly. “I’m sorry to be disturbing you, Fukuzawa–
sama.”
“You aren’t disturbing me.” The man puts the scroll down, gesturing for the boy to step
closer. “I always have time for my followers.”
As he steps closer, careful of the cats that always seem drawn to him whenever he’s here,
Atsushi thinks over how he should voice his problem. “I, em… I would like to ask for help if
possible? For a friend.”
A nod. “Is this about a human boy named Nakahara Chuuya?”
It really shouldn’t be surprising that he knows what Atsushi came here for – if Kunikida is
aware of the situation, then Fukuzawa must be too – but it still catches the tiger off–guard for
a second.
Only for a second, though.
Because it’s been a long time since Atsushi learnt his god is not to be underestimated, and
there isn’t much time to be wasted on feeling confused, either.
“Yes.” The boy nods. “Ry—I mean, Akutagawa–kun told me the human is getting worse, and
I was wondering if… maybe there is anything that can be done to help?”
Not that Atsushi knows what exactly he has in mind, he barely understands what is going on
with Chuuya, but that’s precisely why he’s here. There may be a lot he doesn’t know, but if
it’s Fukuzawa…
Gods know things mortals aren’t allowed to understand.
They see the paths that are invisible to those that follow them without being aware of it.
“I was made aware of what had occurred. In great detail.” His frown is barely noticeable as
the god glances at the scroll he put down before, but then – it’s gone. “It’s truly unfair for the
human boy. It never should have happened. ”
“Then—”
“But I’m afraid the past cannot be undone.”
Fukuzawa’s words make Atsushi’s voice die in his throat, hope that has been blooming in his
chest now fading away. “...is there nothing that can be done, then?” He asks after a second,
never too desperate to try. “To take it out somehow?”
“As I said,” Fukuzawa sighs, looking through the papers on his table again. “The situation
was described to me in great detail by an outstanding doctor. It’s a greatly complicated matter
and, as I was made aware, the elder presence has already penetrated the boy’s soul…”
Atsushi’ throat runs dry at the reminder, remembering how worn out Chuuya looked when he
last saw him at Yosano’s. Remembering the smell of despair lingering on his body, mixed
with blood.
“...and even merged with a small part of it.” Looking up at the tiger, Fukuzawa’s gaze pierces
through his, making Atsushi straighten unconsciously. “I believe you know how powerful
such a connection is, be it done willingly or not.”
Atsushi’s fingers twitch at his sides, then his ears lower over the white hair and his shoulders
droop. “I do.” Every demon does, no matter how old or young. “So there’s nothing to be
done?”
Not even a chance?
A spark of hope, no matter how faint and fleeting?
“Due to its rather… bloody origins, the art of altering souls is something very few choose to
follow, Atsushi–kun. It’s playing with Death, a game laid out on corpses.” A shadow passes
Fukuzawa’s expression. “And I’m afraid I’m not one to indulge in it.”
Not every god is the same. Not every knowledge is desirable.
“...I see.”
“However—”
Atsushi’s ears perk up as he looks up at the god, met with an unreadable expression and a
look in his eyes that seems to be glancing past him and far into the past.
“—I may know someone who is.”
Chapter End Notes
GUESS WHO'S MAKING AN APPEARANCE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, GUYS >:)
Poor Chuuya tho... he's not getting a break, is he?......
EDIT: bear with me with the next chapter, this heatwave is killing me, might publish it
early on tuesday
Two Options
Chapter Notes
Chuuya hesitates, looking up at the fox with wary eyes. “...you want me to come with you?”
“I do.” And, for once, Dazai doesn’t seem thrilled about the idea of the redhead
accompanying him. “Mori–san may need to take an actual look at you.”
The name rings a familiar bell in Chuuya’s head. He doesn’t know the person in question, but
he’s heard that name before…
“...the one who looked after you?”
One of Dazai’s ears flickering at the question is all the answer he needs, or gets.
“I thought you didn’t like him.” The boy mumbles, a strange spark of spite lighting up in his
chest. “And that he’s ‘not worth mentioning’.”
Because that’s what the fox said last time, when Oda mentioned the other god, the one the
redhead has never heard about. After that, Chuuya asked and Dazai chose not to share, for a
reason that he didn’t seem important to explain, or even mention.
“I told you: it’s complicated.” At least the fox doesn’t sound happy about it, which makes it
both intriguing and somewhat more satisfying for Chuuya. “And I changed my mind.”
“Why? Because I bled a bit?”
Because he’s a bother?
Because Dazai has given up?
Because Chuuya is dying?
Because he’s not worth the trouble?
Why can’t everyone just leave him alone if they hate it so much—
Dazai’s eye narrows. “Because I’m willing to try anything to help you, yes.”
Anything?
Then why won’t he just let Chuuya be—
Ah, his headache is getting worse again.
“...I don’t want to go.”

Turning on the other side and covering himself with the comforter, Chuuya hides from the
fox’s gaze. He’s tired, his arm and leg still hurt from the strange cuts appearing on his body.
Not as much as yesterday, whatever spells Yosano gave them helped a lot, the wounds are all
closed up, but the sting remains. Trying to move means risking more injuries, while all
Chuuya wishes for is a moment of nothing.
Of no pain, no whispers.
No nightmares.
Doesn’t he deserve it, at least a little?
Doesn’t he deserve to be free?
To be let out?
He can hear Dazai walking around the futon and kneeling down next to where Chuuya is
lying down, which only makes the boy curl in on himself. Which then sends a weak wave of
pain through his body when the movement pulls at the freshly closed wounds.
It’s not fair—
“I understand, Chuuya.” Dazai’s voice is quiet, but not giving up. “But we have to try.”
“No, we don’t.”
They should just leave him alone.
What if it’s another dead end? What if this Mori person can’t do anything, just like the rest of
them?
They should stop.
Why is Dazai trying to get Chuuya’s hopes up?
Why didn’t he die when—
“You can go by yourself.”
And leave. Chuuya. Be.
Maybe if there is no one around, then Arahabaki won’t hurt him this much, maybe he'll stay
quiet for once when everyone disappears.
Maybe this is their fault.
Maybe it’s Chuuya’s.
Maybe he deserves the pain after what he did to Dazai, after what he tried to do. After what
he does to him every single night in his dreams, to all of them—
“...” There’s silence, but the redhead knows the fox hasn’t moved away. “I can’t leave you
here alone.”
“Ryuu is here. And Gin.”
They’re always here, always so close that Chuuya can remember the touch of their cut skin
under his fingers when reality and his dreams blur into one. That he remembers Ryuu’s blood
dripping down his arm from the time when his nightmares became reality.
But unlike any other time, Dazai doesn’t feel satisfied with just that. “It’s not enough.”
“There’s Rashoumon, too.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Frustration bubbles up in Chuuya’s chest and his words come out hissed. “I don’t need a
whole army looking after me.” He doesn’t want it.
Never has. Never will.
But—
“I won’t leave you here while someone is still out there watching—”
“Huh?”
Under the comforter, Chuuya blinks to himself, confused, as Dazai’s words sink deeper into
his mind. As they gain meaning and… Someone out there?
Who?
How long?
Why has Dazai never mentioned it?
Is it Sigma? Fyodor? The person Fyodor mentioned?
Are they here to make him go through that again?
“What do you mean ‘out there’?” With furrowed brows and fright creeping into his eyes,
Chuuya peeks from under the comforter. “Watching what?”
“...”
“Dazai, watching what?!”
Pushing himself up, Chuuya hisses at the pain that shoots through his left arm and slaps the
kitsune’s hand away when he tries to help him. He doesn’t need gestures born out of pity,
when the kitsune is keeping secrets from him again. About something this important.
Since when do they not trust each other?

“Is it him? The other kitsune? How can you be so calm when—?!”
“It’s not him.” Dazai cuts Chuuya off before his thoughts and fears get the better of him,
silencing the boy for a second. “It’s someone else, and they are only watching. They can’t
come here.”
The redhead grits his teeth. “How do you know that?”
“Because they would have by now if they could.”
And Chuuya wouldn’t know about it. He wouldn’t have expected it to happen because Dazai
said it’s safe, because Dazai never mentioned anything to him, always reassuring Chuuya that
everything is going to be ‘fine’.
What else does he not know about?
How long will it take for someone to come and take him away again?
“You haven’t caught them.” It’s not a question, it’s meant to be purely a statement but it rings
as something more cruel, something more pained – an accusation.
One of Dazai’s tails stirs behind him. “Ryuu and Gin tried, but they always ran away first.”
Just like with Sigma, when Dazai wasn’t fast enough.
Just like the last time Chuuya thought he was fine, because he was led to believe that.
“How long?”
“...at least two weeks.”
“Daz—”
“Which is why I can’t leave without you.” The fox’s voice rings firmer, even if his ears lower
over his hair – hurt, or maybe guilty. Or both. “I won’t risk it.”
So he cares enough to keep an eye on Chuuya at all times, but not enough to tell him the
truth? Dazai doesn’t trust him?
Why should he?
Why should Chuuya trust Dazai?
They’re married, they should always—
He’s trying to kill him, to seal him away.
He has put this thing around his neck to suffocate him, to make him go crazy, to—
Don’t let it out.

Don’t let it out. Don’t let it out. Don’t let it—
“Fine.” The light in Chuuya’s eyes fades, replaced by the shadows of doubt. “I’ll go.”
It’s not like he has a choice, is it?
When blue flames fade away, what greets Chuuya’s eyes is… a shrine? A palace, perhaps?
It’s built from dark wood, different parts of it spreading far to the sides and a main temple
rising high in front of them. The path to it is paved with dark stones and statues regularly
spaced along it on both sides. It’s not like any other place Chuuya has ever seen and it
certainly isn’t a human world. The sky is painted with the shade of purple no sunset or sunrise
could ever give, starts shining brighter than during the clearest nights in the forest and…
Are those two moons?
The two of them are standing under a black torii gate marking the beginning of the path. The
silence stretching through the still air feels heavy, making Chuuya uneasy about being here
when—
“Welcome back, Dazai–kun.”
The voice startles Chuuya, because the redhead could swear there wasn’t a single soul around
them until now, and yet – there he is, a man that seems to have appeared out of thin air
standing a few steps in front of them. With grey hair neatly pulled back and a short beard,
wearing a plain, dark kimono with a white finish around the hem and a brown haori hanging
from his shoulders. There’s a black marking stretching around his right eye and to his cheek –
a tattoo, perhaps? – in the shape of a spider web, hiding behind an eye–piece.
His hands are hidden in the sleeves in a casual manner, but his posture is effortlessly elegant.
A small smile graces his face as the man looks at them. It’s not friendly per se, or at least
Chuuya can’t bring himself to call it that, but it is polite if nothing else.
“Hirotsu–san.” Dazai’s voice is levelled as he speaks to the man, but Chuuya can feel the way
his fingers dig a little more into his shoulder, how his tails pull the boy closer to his side. He
can feel how much the kitsune doesn’t appreciate anyone being close to him, right now.
But it was his idea, wasn’t it?
Why can’t he decide on one thing?
“How nice of you to have come to greet us.”

Surprisingly enough, Dazai sounds… polite. Not quite fond, though that may also hide in his
careful tone, but it’s far from the animosity the fox shows to… well, anyone he doesn’t like.
Or anyone who makes the wrong move at the wrong time.
“Of course.” Hirotsu gives both Dazai and Chuuya a small nod. “It’s been such a long time,
how could I not?”
“It has.” The fox agrees. “But I’m afraid we’re in a hurry and don’t have time for
reminiscing.”
Are they?
Or is the kitsune not willing to have a conversation that isn’t about Chuuya when the boy is
there to listen to it? Just what is he hiding?
“So I’m told.”
The man’s gaze lingers on Chuuya for a fraction of a second, and the redhead swears the
web–tattoo around his eye seems to move. Stretching further, then retracting on itself, then
holding still again.
“Please follow me. Mori–sama has been expecting you.”
Chuuya only moves when Dazai’s tails give him a small push, reminding the boy that the fox
is right here with him. Wherever ‘here’ even is. But they haven’t even taken a few steps away
from the torii gate when something weird starts to happen, something that startles Chuuya at
first…
A laugh rings through the silence. A child’s voice.
It’s weak, distant, but it sends a cold chill down Chuuya’s spine when it reaches him, and
when the boy looks around, searching for where the voice is coming from… It’s everywhere.
A flash of silver disappearing behind a stone figure. A star catching Chuuya’s gaze, gone
after a single blink. On his right, left, behind…
Chuuya can’t catch it, he isn’t even sure how many of them there are, because they’re
everywhere and their voices—
Dazai pulls him even closer, silently glancing at the statues as his eye flashes with red.
“Excuse Yumeno for their behaviour.” It’s Hirotsu who speaks up, and Chuuya’s gaze flies to
the man’s back immediately, while his mind fills with the quiet giggles and whispers that
belong in the dark. They remind Chuuya of what a nightmare feels like, creeping under his
skin.
…it feels wrong, somehow.
“Without Dazai–kun around, they haven’t had many opportunities to play.”
“...play?”
Looking over his shoulder, Hirotsu glances at Chuuya and the boy shivers. “That’s what they
call it, yes.”
“Yumeno is a vengeful spirit under Mori–san’s command.” Dazai says, and the giggles grow
stronger for a moment. “They don’t know ‘play’ from ‘suffer’ or 'break'.”
Chuuya swallows, looking around again. Something in his stomach turns, the scar on his
chest and the closed–up wounds itching under his kimono. The giggles make his skin crawl,
even if they aren’t enough to actually scare him, yet. They’re too distant.
The feeling of someone’s gaze, of someone’s hand reaching for him is only a ghost of an
actual sensation. A cold breeze. But it’s enough to feel like a threat, a poisonous promise of
what might happen if he lets himself be dragged into this—
“They won’t hurt you with me around.”
Weirdly enough, there is a part of Chuuya, however faint, that… isn’t worried about it. A call
from the inside that rings too similar to the dark giggles, claws that trace his mind from the
inside – a feeling just as frightening as the spirit’s presence, if not more.
A call of hate.
A call of madness—
But the giggles are gone the moment they step inside the building, silenced with the door
closing behind them. And with them gone, the whispers inside Chuuya’s head… They aren’t
gone, but they’re more quiet now, deprived of the fuel of hate the spirit’s presence was
feeding him.
They walk down long hallways, not meeting a single person on their way and not uttering a
word. Not until Chuuya can’t stand it anymore – the silence, the uneasiness. “Is it always
this…” He looks around, feeling somewhat like an intruder. “...empty?”
Dazai hums. “No.”
“We told everyone to keep to other parts of the palace.” Hirotsu says, walking ahead without
slowing down. “To make sure Dazai–kun doesn’t try… teaching them about keeping their
distance himself.”
…right.
The fox was ready to throw himself at his friend, who knows what he would do to a
stranger?
Well, Chuuya has an idea about that but it’s not something he likes to think about. It’s
something too close to what he does in his dreams and remembering those moments only
makes him question his own emotions, makes him question whether any of this is even real—
The redhead hasn’t realised when Hirotsu stopped in front of the huge, dark door, but Dazai’s
hand on his shoulder stops him from walking into the man’s back.
When Hirotsu takes his hand out of the sleeve of his kimono, Chuuya expects him to knock,
or push the door open, but none of that happens. Instead, the man stretches his fingers in front
of his chest, then pulls them back into a fist and… Slowly, the door opens. Pulled by many
thin, silver threads that Chuuya can only see when the light from inside the room reflects on
them, seemingly glittering.
Stepping to the side, Hirotsu looks at the two of them. “I will wait here until you’re done.”
Dazai nods but doesn’t give an answer and Chuuya only manages a weak ‘thanks’ before the
fox guides him inside and the door closes again.
The room is huge, it could easily fit over a hundred people, and it’s lit up by not only the
purple light coming from the outside, but also by the small lights floating around. It’s not as
dark as the redhead expected it to be, not as cold. In fact, the air feels almost comfortable to
breathe in, a faint scent of candles soothing the boy’s nerves. It reminds him of… Yosano’s
clinic?
It’s not exactly the same, but it’s similar, and—
“Hello, Dazai–kun. Nakahara–kun.”
—judging from the way Dazai’s tails press more into Chuuya’s back and side – this is Mori.
A tall figure standing by one of the windows. He’s wearing a black kimono with white
ornaments on the upper half, and a dark purple lower piece, a maroon haori with white floral
accents around the hem draped over his shoulders. It’s much longer than Chuuya is used to
seeing, reaching almost to the ground.
The man’s hair is pulled back into a low ponytail falling on his right shoulder and reaching
down to his chest, with a few long strands falling at the sides of his face. There’s grace in the
way this man stands, and power in how nonchalant he seems about Dazai and Chuuya being
here. There’s a hint of danger emanating from him, yes, but it’s not enough to feel
overbearing.
If there is one thing that catches Chuuya’s attention right away, except for the fact that this
man clearly knows his name, it’s his eyes. Their dangerous depths, endless darkness and the
bright red glint swirling around in them, so similar to… Dazai’s.
“It’s a pleasure to have you visit me.”
As the man walks away from the window and toward the centre of the room, a quiet sound of
metal clanking on metal reaches Chuuya’s ears. If he looks closer, he can see silver flashing
from under the man’s haori, sharp and thin knives dangling from long chains.
“‘Pleasure’ isn’t exactly what I would call it, Mori–san.” Despite his words, Dazai leads
Chuuya inside and towards the god, stopping only a few steps away from him.
“Yes, I can imagine. But I can’t deny it’s a delight to have you here, Dazai–kun.”
When Mori’s gaze falls on Chuuya, the redhead feels… weird. His chest tightens with a sense
of animosity that doesn’t make sense to him, that doesn’t feel like it’s his. His scar itches
more than before and he wants to hide from this man, but—
He also feels strangely at peace.
Mori’s smile is polite, much like Hirotsu’s, but it also has a hint of gentleness and kindness to
it. It doesn’t fit the image of the god standing in front of him, the image that Dazai’s very
scarce mentions of the man painted in Chuuya’s mind. It doesn’t fit quite right, yet… it does,
somehow. The same way Dazai’s coldly caring nature felt when Chuuya first started living
with the fox, two years ago.
“And to finally meet you, Nakahara–kun.” A flash of red dances in Mori's eyes. “I’ve been
meaning to introduce myself for a while now.”
…why?
“Em…” Glancing at Dazai for a second, Chuuya tries not to think too much about it. They
aren’t here so that he could overthink words from a man he doesn’t actually know. “Hi?”
“Mori Ougai.” The god offes. “I’m not sure how much you were told…?”
“...not much.” Chuuya admits. He only really knows that Mori is a god and someone who
looked after Dazai for a while, a long time ago. He tried to ask for more, but… Well, it
always ends the same way.
The man nods. “I’m not surprised.”
“We’ve come here for a reason, Mori–san. “ Dazai speaks up. “Not to chit chat.”
“Have you forgotten what I taught you already? Formalities hold their importance.” When
Dazai’s tails stir, very displeased, Mori lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “I see both of my
pupils not only don’t like keeping in touch, but also prefer not to listen to what I taught
them.” He looks at Chuuya, a small smirk on his lips. “Yosano–kun is the same, only
stopping by when she needs something. Pitiful old me, aren’t I?”
Chuuya’s eyes widen in surprise, unsure of what to say to that. There seems to be a lot he
doesn’t know yet, untold stories from more people than just the kitsune.
His gaze darts from the man to Dazai and back. “Yosano–sensei?”
“Mori–san is a god of medicine.” The corners of Dazai’s lips twitch. “Primarily, anyway.
Yosano is his former student.”
“She paid me a visit recently.” The god offers Chuuya a smile that feels almost apologetic
now, rather than teasing. “So I’m quite familiar with your situation, Nakahara–kun.”
The redhead’s hands clench at his sides, a new wave of discomfort washing over him at the
reminder. But Dazai’s tails soothe it away, rubbing reassuring circles into Chuuya’s back
when the fox feels him getting nervous. It helps, even if only a little.
The kitsune lowers his voice. “Can you help him, then?”
Mori hums, looking Chuuya over from head to toe. “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’ll allow me to take a closer look at him without trying to become a god
slayer, Dazai–kun.” The man narrows his eyes when his gaze falls over Chuuya’s chest, right
where the black scar starts to pulse under his clothes. “And on your definition of ‘help’, of
course.”
“...not dying would be helping enough.” Chuuya murmurs without thinking, pressing his lips
tightly together when he realises his thoughts slipped from his mind into the silence around
them.
He feels bad for bringing that up but, surprisingly, his words lift some of the tension from the
air. Dazai’s reluctant animosity fades and Mori’s features soften into neutral politeness again.
“It would.” The god agrees with a smile. He takes a step forward and quirks a brow, raising
one hand up to gesture towards Chuuya’s heart . “May I?”
A somewhat fearful ‘no’ dies in Chuuya’s throat as the redhead swallows around a lump of
nerves. “I guess…” He’s already come here, there’s no point in baking out anymore when the
god hasn’t explicitly told them the situation is helpless.
When there may be a shadow of hope to it.
As Chuuya reaches up to pull at his kimono, exposing the skin over his heart – why does the
air feel so cold on his scar, when it’s so warm in here? – Dazai steps closer. His hand rests
firmly on the boy’s shoulder, and his tails are covering him almost entirely…
Or so they would, if the kitsune didn’t move them to the side when Mori arches a brow at
him in silence.
Witnessing it all, Chuuya isn’t sure whose those nerves that eat away at his mind are
anymore. Are they his own? Dazai’s?
Or maybe Arahabaki’s presence is fueling them, feeling cornered by another god’s presence?
Finally having a clear view, Mori leans closer, his eyes on the black and red scar stretching
over Chuuya’s heart. The god looks focused, completely unbothered by the glare Dazai is
sending him when his hand reaches out to Chuuya.
“This may sting a little.” He says, not so much apologising in advance as simply letting the
boy know.
Sure enough, the moment Mori’s finger brushes the scar, the redhead jolts away with a quiet
hiss. He didn’t do it on purpose, of course, and he most certainly didn’t do it so that Dazai
would try to attack the god. Which the kitsune obviously does, because how could he not.
Mori, however, continues to look unbothered, grabbing the tail that shoots out to him with
one hand without so much as looking at it.
“Sorry…” The redhead mumbles, for the both of them. The pain… It wasn't intense, but it
surprised him despite the warning and his body moved on its own without thinking.
“Don’t worry.” The man offers Chuuya a small smile, letting go of Dazai’s tail as it slowly
retracts. “Do you think I can try again?”
That thing doesn’t seem to like it, but…
A nod is all Mori needs.
This time, the redhead doesn’t move away, only frowning in discomfort when the god’s
finger meets his skin. It’s not that Mori is making it hurt, the man’s touch is barely noticeable
– it’s the thing inside of him.
The faint burn? Chuuya can feel it coming from inside his heart, in a very literal way. As if
Arahabaki’s essence is trying to scare the other god away, fight him through the veil of the
boy’s skin.
But it doesn’t last. Before the sting becomes too uncomfortable – it’s gone.
Taking his hand back and hiding it in the sleeve of his kimono again, Mori straightens his
back. He stays silent for a moment longer, his eyes now scanning all over Chuuya. The
redhead can feel Dazai’s restraint in the way the fingers on his shoulder twitch impatiently,
yet the fox doesn’t say anything.
“Well,” Eventually, Mori speaks up, cocking his head to the side in a weirdly… fascinated
manner. “I must admit, you’re one of a kind, Nakahara–kun.”
…is that a good thing? Or bad?
“Does that mean you can help him?” Dazai narrows his eye at the other man, and Chuuya
hates how his heart hiccups at the question. He hates how it fills him with hope, casting light
where it doesn’t belong.
Where he doesn’t want it.
Where he fears it.
“As I said, it depends on your definition of helping, Dazai–kun.”
The kitsune doesn’t make a sound, but Chuuya can feel the growl through their bond. He can
feel Dazai’s patience slowly thinning with each passing minute.
“What about, em…” Clearing his throat, the boy tucks his kimono back in place, scratching
the scar through the material before he becomes conscious of it, putting his arm down. “What
about your definition, Mori–…sama?”
Ironic that, in all of this mess of a life he’s gotten himself into, Chuuya’s main trouble comes
from not knowing anything about ‘meeting a god’ etiquette. Is he supposed to address him
the same way Hirotsu does? Is he not allowed to address him at all?
Should he ask for permission?
Should he speak the same way he does to Oda?
Fortunately, the god in question doesn’t seem to mind his hesitation. If anything, his smile
seems to appreciate it. “I allow many of those, young man.”
For a split second, a shadow washes over Mori’s face, but it’s gone before Chuuya can notice
it. He does, however, notice how the god glances at Dazai briefly – why, though, he can’t
know.
“But I imagine you’re asking about whether or not you’re destined to die in the near future,
and in that case…”
He lets out a sigh, and that pause is the longest second in Chuuya’s entire life—
“...the answer is: not necessarily, no.”
His heart stops.
Then, it wants to burst out of his chest.
Fresh air hits his lungs with so much power, it has Chuuya choking on it. It may be false, it
may not turn out okay, but… relief washes over the redhead like a waterfall of suppressed
emotions, of stress and fear. For a second, everything feels the way it’s supposed to feel.
No itching.
No pain.
No whispers.
Only one thought – he doesn’t have to die, doesn’t have to leave his family behind and suffer
through every day until the pain consumes him. He doesn’t have to—
“The chance that you will, though, is still very high.”
—die?
“Mori–san—”
“Now, now, Dazai–kun.” The god shakes his head, turning around from the two of them and
walking to the wide table at the end of the room. “Let me explain before you try to burn
our… my home down.”
The air around the kitsune is cold, sharp with a thousand needles, as the fox glares at the
man’s back.
He seems conflicted, Dazai. As if it’s his nature to fight, to demand the answers from the god,
while on the inside he’s just as torn between hope and fear as Chuuya. As if, despite himself,
every inch of him is begging for this to work.
He doesn’t look anything like it, of course, he looks similar to what Chuuya first saw when
he woke up in an unfamiliar room, two years ago. The demon who doesn’t take no for an
answer. But what the redhead couldn’t have imagined he’d ever feel back then, it echoes so
loudly through their bond right now.
The fear of being too late, the determination to never give up.
The conflict between wanting to hate this god and wishing for his help and something else.
Something that Chuuya can’t name and Dazai… doesn’t seem to be able to, either.
Now that they’re here, that they both know there may be a way – it’s all so clear, so within
Chuuya’s reach that the fog clouding their bond feels like nothing. For a second, everything
feels so right, so like it used to, that Chuuya’s mind spins, overwhelmed.
…but it doesn’t last.
The fog is back, and with it, so are the whispers – this constant ringing in his ears. And now
it’s even louder, like something inside of Chuuya is not happy about all of this.
Because it isn’t.
Because he isn’t.
Because it’s wrong—
Shut up.
Shut. Up.
“I would say there are… two ways out of this situation of yours.” As he stops before the
table, Mori looks back over his shoulder, the scarlet shine in his eyes more tamed now and
his voice lower. “Whether you’ll like them, though, I cannot guarantee.”
Chuuya wants to say that he doesn’t have to like it as long as it works, but he stops himself
from voicing that thought. He doesn’t want to regret his own words later on. Doesn’t want
them to jinx their only chance.
“And what ways would that be?” Dazai asks in his stead.
“One solution would be to cut the dead god’s presence off from your soul.”
“Cut…?” A cold shiver runs down Chuuya’s spine. “But Yosano–sensei said it would…” Kill
him. “...be impossible.”
Mori bends down to wave his hand over one of the candles burning at the table, then turns
around to face the two of them again. “Cutting it out is impossible, that is correct. Cutting it
off is… within some bounds of possibility.”
To be honest, the redhead has no idea what difference it makes. “But she—”
Holding up his palm, the one that doesn’t have the smoke from the candle flowing in a grey
cloud over it, Mori makes the boy fall silent.
“Yosano–kun is my best student when it comes to the art of medicine, however…” A sigh.
“She isn’t a god, she could never see your blessings, or any other aspects that are only visible
to our eyes. And treating something you can’t see is… bound to come at a disadvantage.”
“...” Well, at least that makes sense, somehow. “So…” Chuuya’s fingers twitch with the need
to scratch his own heart out, the itching underneath his scar slowly becoming unbearable.
“...what do you mean by ‘cut off’?”
A smile that paints itself on Mori’s face feels odd. It’s well–trained, neutrally secretive, but
also with the faintest hint of sorrow behind it.
Just like Dazai’s.
Again.
“Well, a soul can only exist in its entirety, destroying even the smallest part of it means
death.” As the god walks back to them and his gaze slides to the kitsune, his voice softens for
a second. “...in most cases, anyway.”
Dazai stills, and Chuuya feels his heart sink.
But then, the apologetic note disappears again as the man continues. “Which is why yōkai
marriages are absolute and irreversible.”
The cloud flies higher over Mori’s hand, lazily swirling around to form two balls of grey
smoke suspended in air. One of a lighter shade and with a small piece of a darker smoke
inside of it, and the other of a darker shade with a lighter part to it.
“Because that spell only feels like one’s soul is being torn apart, when in reality…”
The smoke inside the two balls starts to flow faster, growing out of the confinement of a
perfect shape and reaching for each other until they aren’t two separate beings anymore. They
only appear separate if not for the thin thread that connects them, a bridge where the smoke
flows freely and the two shades mix into one, indistinguishable.
“...it’s being stretched and absorbed by the other person’s soul. From one end of the vow to
the other.” The man smirks. “Hence ‘the bond’, or ‘connection’, so that two become one.
Cutting the connection at any point, destroys all of it.”
When the thin thread breaks, a small fire bursts at the torn part, swallowing the smoke on
both sides until it disappears completely.
“Since that thing has already merged with a part of you, cutting it out would mean cutting
your soul into two pieces and that means… well, the usual.”
The word ‘death’ hangs in the air, suffocating the redhead.
How insolent.
“However, it’s only a very small piece that has fused with you, Nakahara–kun, not the whole
thing.”
As if the previous fire never happened, the smoke reappears in front of them again. Only this
time, it looks different. There’s a bigger ball of it, of a light grey shade, and another red one,
the two connected by a thin thread that looks similar to the one form before – but it isn’t.
“And since it’s already dead, it can’t force the merging to deepen on its own.”
Where the thread meets the grey cloud, the red flows into it, mixing the two colours at the
connection, but… Inside the other cloud and along the thread, the smoke is still. Unnaturally
so.
It’s not connected as one. It’s latched onto the grey smoke, but… still separate.
“So in a case that you don’t care about what happens to the other part of it, I could cut it right
outside of what can be considered as ‘you’.”
It’s him.
It’s all him.
Once again, the smoke is swallowed by the small flame when the thread breaks, but… Only
the red part of it. The fire fades away before reaching the grey cloud.
“Normally, it would almost most likely, but not inevitably, mean the same end for you, but
your blessings could be enough to strengthen your chances of survival. Like a balm
protecting a burn from spreading onto you.”
Silence thick with tension spreads between them when Mori doesn’t say anything more than
that. And it’s Dazai who breaks it, full of suspicion despite the hope that tugs at his heart..
“Are you sure it would work?”
But Chuuya should have expected it, he should have never let himself have hope. Looking
straight into Dazai’s eye, Mori considers the question for a second before—
“No.”
Give up.
Just give up.

Never let him touch it.
“Of course not, this is the first such case ever.” He looks back at Chuuya. “It could work, but
it’s far more likely that the human will die during the procedure.”
This time, an actual growl rips out from Dazai’s throat. “And the other option?”
“Ah, that would be to allow the dead god to merge with Nakahara–kun completely.”
Merge?
But Yosano said—
“Your death would be certain if you were a regular human, Nakahara–kun.” Mori continues.
“But again, unlike Yosano–kun, I can see and understand your blessing, and they’re far
stronger than you think. With five of them, you have a chance at surviving. Well…” Here, the
god’s tone loses the hint of confidence for a second. “Your body has a chance, at the very
least.”
Somehow, Chuuya doesn’t like the sound of that.
Something feels off. The thing inside of him seems… It feels too pleased with this scenario.
Too quiet. Like it wants this to happen.
“...what do you mean ‘my body’?”
“Your soul makes you who you are. Allowing something else to change it to this degree
would be like… pouring ink into water. It will have the same shape, but it’ll be different in
any other aspect.”
Do it.
Do it.
This is how it should be.
“You may lose your mind, you may become someone else completely.” Pity echoes in Mori’s
voice. “You may forget the people you love, or even come to hate them.”
Yes, that’s it—
No.
“Your body will be saved, but you will never be the same ‘you’ as now.”
No.
“Is…” Chuuya swallows dryly, his head spinning. “Is there no other way?” He wants to be
grateful to Mori, he should be, because this is more than he and Dazai could wish for only a
day ago.
This is a chance.
But it’s a terrifying one. To live, but not be himself.
Will he hate Daza, his husband? Adam? Verlaine? Will he try to leave, to hurt them?
Will Chuuya even be aware of the pain he’s causing?
Mori shakes his head and it takes everything in the redhead not to let the sob shaking his soul
escape him in front of the god.
“I’m afraid not.” The man sighs. “A mortal body is designed to contain exactly one soul in it.
You’re like an overflowing jar, Nakahara–kun. There is too much in it as it is, and its walls
are breaking under the pressure.” His eyes dart over the boy’s body. “Hence the wounds on
your arm and leg.”
Instinctively, Chuuya tries to hide his left arm behind him, feeling the healed–up wounds
itching again. It shouldn’t be surprising that the god can sense them through the clothes, but
it’s… unnerving. It’s making Chuuya feel exposed against his will.
“I…” Glancing at the kitsune, the boy tries to put his thoughts together. “Can I… think about
it?”
The fox furrows his brow, looking down at the redhead. “Chuuya, we need to act fast if—”
“But I can’t!”
There’s anger burning through his veins, frustration wrapping itself tighter around his heart.
It seeps into his voice without Chuuya’s consent. It’s unfair. Dazai is worried and Chuuya
shouted at him. The kitsune is just as desperate for this as he is and doesn’t deserve this
treatment, but…
It’s about Chuuya, not about him.
Dazai can’t know the same struggles, the same fears that fill the redhead, no matter how
much he may look inside his soul. Because even if they’re one, even if their bond can never
be severed—
Chuuya’s fears are his own.
“I…” The boy lowers his voice, fighting back the wave of hysteria setting his mind on fire. “I
need to think about it, Dazai.”
About the consequences.
About what would be the right choice, the better one.
What if it doesn’t work and Chuuya dies without ever saying goodbye to his uncles, to Ryuu
and Gin and everyone?
He hasn’t even told Adam or Paul about any of this, he can’t risk never seeing them again.
Risk making them torture themselves with questions without answers, with guilt that hasn’t
even been met with a single goodbye.
He looks back at Mori, his eyes pleading. “Can I?”
“Of course.” The god nods. “But I should tell you that the longer you wait, the more difficult
it’s going to be.”
Yeah, Chuuya figured that would be the case, but he still can't just decide on something this
important out of nowhere. There are too many unknowns, too many fears and terrifying
visions his mind makes him see.
“So try not to let it out any more, Nakahara–kun.” The comment makes the redhead frown.
“What Yosano–kun has told me and what I’m seeing are significantly different things, which
leads me to assume you had an incident when the spell around your neck broke.”
…oh.
That.
But it’s not like it was planned, or consensual, it’s not like Chuuya wanted it to happen – he
couldn’t control it. He still can’t. All he ever does is hope it won’t happen again—
“I’ll see to that.” Dazai answers for him, determined. He doesn’t sound happy about waiting
any longer, but he doesn’t fight Chuuya’s decision.
Not yet.
Not here.
“Very well.” Mori offers them another polite smile. “You know where to find me once you
make up your mind.”
“We do.” Without much regard for manners, Dazai takes a step forward and stands between
Mori and Chuuya, facing the boy. “Can you go wait with Hirotsu–san for a moment.”
Blue eyes are blown wide at the request, anxiety clenching his throat. “Huh?”
“You can trust him.” Cold fingers brush Chuuya’s cheek. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
After a second of hesitation, of nerves eating away at his mind, Chuuya nods. And once the
boy steps out of the room, standing next to the man with grey hair, Dazai turns around to
Mori again and…
“What do you really think?”
The fox hates how he can’t feel Chuuya at his side, how he can’t make sure he’s safe.
Trusting other people doesn’t come to him easily. If Dazai had a choice, he would never trust
anyone with Chuuya, except for very few people that are always around him and that have
proven themselves to have the redhead’s interest in mind.
But he doesn’t want the boy to hear this. He doesn’t want to deepen his distress.
“If you leave him be, the boy is guaranteed to die in a few months time. By his own hand.”
The god answers without hesitation. “If you choose any of the ways I gave you, he is likely to
die.”
Dazai takes another step forward, his eye brightly red with suppressed rage. “So Chuuya will
die at the hands of an ancient god, or at yours?”
“Possibly.” The man’s features soften, his smile losing its edge. “But you should know better
than anyone, Dazai–kun, that my hands can also save lives, not only take them.”
They stare at each other for a long moment, Dazai’s tails all ready to shoot forward and
strike, while Mori… He looks calm. Not unbothered, but… the crimson shine of his eyes is
different from Dazai’s. It doesn’t have the same desperation the fox tries to hide from the god
– tries and fails, because Mori knows him too well – for once, his eyes look honest and full of
unrestrained sympathy.
Eventually, the kitsune takes control of his emotions again, letting out a deep sigh. “...but you
can’t promise his safety.”
“No.” Mori sounds genuinely sorry, which is something Dazai doesn’t know how to feel
about. “I can’t.”
No one can.
Not Yosano.
Not Oda.
Not Dazai—
“...thank you for your time, Mori–san.”
With that, the kitsune turns around, quickly walking up to where Chuuya is waiting for him.
He nods at Hirotsu, his arm already around the redhead when—
“Ah, Dazai–kun, Nakahara–kun?” The two of them turn their heads towards the god. “I know
it’s late, but…”
Chuuya can’t know it, because it’s the first time he meets this man, but Dazai… The fox has
spent a long time living among these walls, serving this god, but he has never seen him smile
this… genuinely.
“Congratulations on your marriage.”

—
Without moving from his spot, Mori watches as the huge doors slowly close, the three figures
on the other side of it disappearing from his sight, and then…
“Eavesdropping?” The man says into the void around him. “How impudent of you,
Fukuzawa–dono.” He looks over his shoulder, meeting the gaze of a man that appears next to
the table, walking out of one of the shadows cast by one of the pillars. “That’s bad manners
for such a righteous god as yourself, don't you think?”
“Old habits.” The simple answer earns Fukuzawa a chuckle from the other man, one that he
chooses to ignore. “And you haven’t put up a barrier to keep me out.”
“Neither have you for me, around your residence.”
Which doesn’t mean there are no protective barriers around here, or at Fukuzawa’s house,
because there are. They’re just… for everything and everyone else, not themselves.
Mori lets out a sigh, gesturing for the other man to take a seat on one of the cushions and
walking up to a different one. “I’m assuming you’re here about the young human as well?”
Kneeling down on the cushion, Fukuzawa nods. “Atsushi–kun was worried about your in–
law, yes. But I see they’ve come here first.”
Mori stops in his tracks, then huffs out a laugh as he slumps down on his cushion, on the
opposite side of the table. “You may be the only one in all the dimensions that actually calls
Dazai–kun my son, dear friend.” Propping one elbow on the table, Mori rests his chin on his
palm. “Even I have never said such a thing.”
Not directly.
Not with this exact word.
“He came to exist because of you.” Fukuzawa says matter–of–factly, arching one brow. “He
has a spark of you inside of himself. Just because you won’t tell him about it, doesn’t make it
any less true.”
“I assure you.” Mori meets his gaze, but there is no fight in his eyes. “Dazai–kun wouldn’t
want to know about it.”
“Perhaps. But he’s still alive because of you.”
“Yes.” Old memories flood Mori’s mind, the image of a young kitsune with a ripped soul, on
the verge of dying making his heart ache. “And that simple fact is enough to have him hate
me.”
Fukuzawa hums, glancing at the door. “I don’t think he truly hates you.”
“And I think he wants to. Besides…”
Following the other god’s gaze, Mori looks at where the kitsune was standing just a few
minutes ago. It was the first time he had seen Dazai this… open about his feelings and
worried about another being.
The first time he’s seen him this free, despite the grief eating away at his mind.
“It’s too late for me to act like a good father now.” A pause. “To act like a father.”
Right now, the only thing Mori can hope for is that Dazai will bring the young human back
here in time and let him try to help them. Because after all this time, after all the mistakes and
things that had to be done, maybe he could at least make this right.
…if it isn’t too late by then.
Chapter End Notes
Yes, I made Mori's hair longer because I CAN AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME
And I made that plot twist also because I can~~~

A Decision
Chapter Notes
When a familiar smell of their forest replaces the faint incense of the god’s palace, and the
floors of their house creak under his feet, Chuuya lets out a sigh he didn’t realise he’s been
holding. It’s too much information all at once, too many emotions storming inside his head –
fear, hope, disappointment, anger. His temples are pulsing, his skin itches all over and
something inside of him wants to scream—
“Chuuya?” Tilting his head, Dazai watches as the redhead steps away from him and heads to
their bedroom without a word.
The boy only frowns to himself without looking back. “I’m tired.” As always these days. “I
need a minute.” Or an hour. Or a day.
Or a lifetime away from this mess.
And even then, it probably wouldn’t be enough.
Concerned, Dazai follows a few steps after him, silent as he tries to give Chuuya the space
that he needs, but it doesn’t work. The boy can feel him gaze on his back, can sense how
tense with expectations the air around him is, how suffocating it feels. And it is not just that,
the bond between them feels the same. No matter how muffled it has become, or how much
the redhead tries not to listen to it – Dazai’s thoughts always brush his own, his feelings
always there for him to gaze into.
It stirs the darkness lurking deep inside of him, making Chuuya’s body stiff as he tries to
fight it off. His hold on the door as he slides it open doesn’t need to be this strong, his steps
don’t need to be this heavy. He should lie down, rest, he doesn’t need to be pacing around the
room like that—
“Chuuya.” Dazai says carefully from the doorway. “This is the only chance we’ve got.”
—and Dazai shouldn’t be making it worse.
The redhead freezes at the words, the sound of them fading into the air but still echoing deep
inside his mind. Despite how hot the evenings are now, Chuuya can feel cold sweat breaking
out on his body when the meaning of what the kitsune just said seeps in.
He turns around, facing the kitsune standing next to the door to their bedroom, but he doesn’t
dare to utter a word. What is he supposed to say to that, anyway? That he’s happy?
Delighted?
That he can’t wait to let some god cut him up and possibly kill?
That he wants to wait and let Arahabaki take over?

“You should let Mori–san help you.”
Oh, how easy that sounds.
How deceptively.
“Dazai.” Chuuya furrows his brows, his fingers twitching with the urge to grip at something,
at someone, at himself. With the urge to dig his nails into live flesh until blood paints long
trails before him—
No.
He doesn’t want that. He won’t.
“Have you heard what he said?” The boy asks in a low voice, barely above a whisper.
If he doesn’t keep it quiet, he’ll shout his lungs out until there is no more air in them. The
screams of frustration wreak havoc in Chuuya’s heart, suppressed by the sheer will–power,
but fighting with their constraints with violent strength. Mori was right, he is an overflowing
jar – overflowing with hatred and…
Is it rage that rips his sanity into shreds, or powerlessness?
“I have.” The fox says, slowly stepping closer but stopping when he sees the boy take a step
back. “But we don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, we do.” Sometimes, it’s not so easy to distinguish between swallowing down a scream
and a sob. “I do.”
“Chuuya—”
“No, Dazai. I—”
Stay away.
Keep everyone away.
Make them go away.
The words leaving Chuuya like a hiss. “You’re asking me to let him kill me!”
One of the fox’s ears twitch, but his overall composure doesn’t crack under the accusatory
tone. “No, I’m asking you to let him help you.”
If he just agrees.
If he just lets it take control.
If only he gives his body up, it’ll all be over.
He’s so, so tired of it all.

“Yes.” He grits his teeth. “By doing something that will most likely kill me.” A dark laugh
rips out from Chuuya’s chest. “Or make me into someone else, which is essentially the same
thing!”
What does Dazai not understand in all of this?
Or does he just not care about it?
About Chuuya?
“We can’t be sure—”
“Exactly!”
Shut him up.
Shut him up.
Shut him up.
Pressing the heels of his palms to his temples, Chuuya squeezes his eyes, breathing heavily to
try and calm himself. But when he speaks again, his voice is shaking with everything he’s
holding back, with a growl that doesn’t belong to him.
“You—even he wasn’t sure if it would work! And you’re asking me to trust him?” He looks
at the kitsune, secretly hoping he’ll see what he wishes for—
“Do you trust him?”
—but it’s not there.
Instead of an answer, instead of reassuring Chuuya that the fox knows what he’s asking for,
Dazai stays silent. And that’s enough of an answer. More than enough.
“I thought so.”
It was easier to stay calm back there, at Mori’s residence. There was something about the air
that would soothe the anger, silence the whispers. But once they got back home?
Once allowed to claw out of its slumber, Arahabaki’s claws dig deeper than ever. As if to
make sure Chuuya never goes back there, back to where his hope was left behind – to
another god.
To a threat to what he is.
“Chuuya.” Dazai softens his voice into a tone that he always uses to calm him down, to make
him feel safe when the world does anything but. “If you just trust me for a second—”
“How?”
But he does?
…right?
He didn’t before.
…or did he?
“I trusted you and you pushed me away. I trusted you and your scrolls, and it was all for
nothing!”
But Dazai tried. He didn’t give up.
Like he should have.
“I know and I’m sorry.” Dazai takes another step closer, his expression softening into a
pained apology as he tries to reason with panic and anger boiling under Chuuya’s skin. “But
this will work. It’s going to be okay—”
“STOP SAYING THAT!”
Stop the sweet lies.
Stop giving Chuuya hope.
It only ever hurts.
Dazai’s eye widens slightly, surprised, when the redhead raises his voice to a shout, a harsh
and unfamiliar note ringing through it.
“Stop saying that like you KNOW it!” The boy repeats, uncaring about holding his voice
back anymore. “It’s NOT okay. NOTHING is okay, and you DON’T KNOW if anything ever
WILL be okay!”
Those promises make Chuuya sick.
They make his nightmare taste sweet.
“Yosano and not one but TWO gods told you I’m as good as dead already! So stop LYING to
make yourself feel better and—and—just fucking STOP!”
The shock in Dazai’s eye is clear, just like the pain coating it. Chuuya knows his words have
played on all the wrong strings, he knows the kitsune is hurt, but the rage inside of him
doesn’t subside. It’s strangling him, making the venomous flavour on his tongue taste good
and the hissed out whispers sound like music.
It lasts a second, the silence.
And in that brief moment, something in Dazai changes. The guilt hides behind a veil of
acceptance, the sorrow puts on a mask that shows no emotions – a mask that looks calm, but
in fact feels nothing.
Like he’s given up.
…like he’s doing exactly what Chuuya has asked him to do: stop hoping.
“...very well.”
Even his voice lacks the tenderness that has always been there, now levelled into a neutral
tone that’s neither angry nor apologetic. It’s the same tone Dazai uses when everything else
fails, when he has no choice but to go back to how he used to be—
To how a kitsune, a demon, should be.
(Because Chuuya isn’t the only one who’s exhausted by it, Dazai has been at his limits for a
while now, staring into the hopeless abyss spreading before him. But he knows better than to
cross that line. He knows better than to lose sight of himself.
But he is a demon and cruelty is a part of him, and when someone asks for it to come to
light… This is what they shall receive.
As they wish.)
“If Chuuya doesn’t want me to lie, I won’t.”
For a reason the redhead doesn’t quite understand, that statement only makes his flame in his
chest grow, as if he’s being cornered by the sudden shift in Dazai’s demeanour. When the
kitsune takes a step forward, something in Chuuya’s heart snarls in defence, making him take
a step back.
“What are you—”
“You’re dying, Chuuya.” He speaks so calmly, his expression unreadable and only his one
eye bright red. There’s no trying to make it sound less terrifying, no reassurance softening the
edges of the looming doom. “You’re getting worse by the day and it won’t be long before that
pain you once felt comes back.”
It sends a cold shiver down Chuuya’s spine, while his blood boils.
Something inside him cheers.
Something longs for that time.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” The boy hisses, his nails digging into his palms painfully.
“I can feel it—”
Dazai never stops, getting closer with every second. “And, yet, you don’t understand a
thing.”
His scar itches.
His wounds itch.

His heart roars with the need to fight, to destroy.
“How DARE YOU—”
“You say you don’t want Mori–san’s help, but are you really WILLING to go through that
again, Chuuya? For months?” Dazai’s gaze is cold, distant, piercing through Chuuya’s soul
like a sword. “Because it won’t be a day, or a week.”
Is Dazai trying to intimidate him into agreeing? Use whatever dirty tricks foxes use on their
victims?
He says all of that as if he knew what it feels like to be at the mercy of everyone else, to be
made into a specimen that others can only pity.
“You have NO idea—”
“Last time, you were begging me to kill you.”
It’s only now that the redhead realises he’s been stepping away from the fox. His back hits
the wall behind him, startling him – or maybe it’s the words that take away his voice? – as
frustration blooms in his mind.
He remembers.
He doesn't want to, but he does.
“But I won’t.” Dazai only stops when he’s one step away from Chuuya, staring down at the
boy with a blood–freezing gaze. “As long as I’ll be able to keep you alive, that’s what I will
do.”
His tone, his expression, the reminder of that time – it’s squeezing Chuuya’s throat tighter,
forcing the boy to swallow his words before they can escape him.
He doesn’t mind going through it.
He never wants to feel it again.
He will.
“Even if you beg me to end your suffering,” Dazai’s tails and hair cast dark shadows on his
face. “I will not grant you that wish.”
It will serve its purpose.
It will break him.
It will finally be done.
“I will not kill you, Chuuya.”

Anger flares up in the redhead’s heart, twisting itself around his every deepest fear and giving
them a voice that rings like a demon’s. “This isn’t your choice!” He grabs Dazai’s kimono by
the fold on his chest, crumbling the material in his fist. “YOU do not dictate MY life, Dazai!”
“No, I don’t.” Long fingers wrap around Chuuya’s wrist. “But it is my choice who I decide to
kill.”He doesn’t push Chuuya’s away, only squeezing his wrist tightly right where it is. “Or to
save. Even if it’s from yourself.”
What if he doesn’t want to be saved.
Doesn’t need it.
SLAM!
His emotions are seething when Chuuya snaps Dazai’s hand away and throws his arm to the
side to escape the kitsune’s hold, his fist hitting the wall with a loud thud.
“You’re doing one hell of a job at it, aren’t you?” He grits his teeth, his vision faintly red.
“Sending me to a likely death, instead of waiting for a certain one!”
Unbothered by the snap, Dazai slowly hides his hand back in his sleeve. “For a chance that it
will save you? Yes.”
“I’m not a toy for you to GAMBLE WITH!”
“What will you do, then, human?” Dazai’s patience is sickening as the fox tilts his head, his
never-raising tone mocking Chuuya. “Let it swallow you?”
“It’s better than—”
“Let your family see you like that?”
Chuuya’s eyes widen as Dazai’s question punches air out of his lung. It feels like he’s been
thrown into a bottomless icy lake, like he’s being dragged to the endless pits.
“Don’t…” Chuuya shakes his head, baring his teeth. “Do NOT throw them into this!”
But Dazai doesn’t listen, or maybe doesn’t care anymore. “How do you think they will feel,
once they see you like that? All covered in blood and cuts that won’t heal?”
“Daz—”
“How will your uncles feel when they’ll be forced to watch you die slowly and painfully? For
weeks?”
SLAM!
Chuuya’s fist hits the wall behind him with a loud thud again, but the redhead doesn’t care
about the pain. “STOP IT!”
“I won’t.” Dazai’s eye flashes with threatening crimson, something the boy hasn’t seen in a
long while, but Chuuya refuses to crumble under its gaze. “Not until you understand your
own situation.”
The kitsune leans down, placing one hand on the wall next to Chuuya's head, cutting off his
way of escape.
How familiar.
How nostalgic, in all the bad ways.
“You’re still you, for now, but that will change, and when it does—”
He’ll be free.
He’ll be himself.
“—who’s to say you won’t hurt one of your uncles?”
He… would never.
“Or both of them?”
He would NEVER!
Except… in his dreams, he already did.
And he’ll do it again.
Over and over again.
“So let me ask again, human: will you let us try to help you?” The fox’s voice lowers,
flowing into Chuuya’s mind like a shadow. “Or would you rather wait for that to happen?”
“I would rather LIVE!”
“Too bad, Chuuya. Because you have a dead god inside of you that won’t let you do that for
as long as it’s—”
“AND WHOSE FAULT DO YOU THINK IT IS?!”
Louder than his words, the sound of a heart breaking into a thousand pieces rings around
them. And whose heart it is, Dazai’s or his own, Chuuya isn’t sure.
It all happens at the same time – Dazai’s eye widens and loses its flame, while Chuuya feels
his own words cutting up his throat. The anger? It’s gone, leaving behind only silence.
And guilt.
The liquid fire that has been burning Chuuya’s veins? Frozen in regret as his body is unable
to move under the weight of what he’s just said.
Dazai’s lips part, then press shut again. The hand next to Chuuya’s head slides from the wall,
careful not to touch the boy anywhere, as the kitsune straightens his back and takes a step
away—
(Dazai knew it all along, after all. Even if he tricked his own mind into believing otherwise –
into not hating himself for what has happened.
But the truth can only be one.)
“...I see.”
What has Chuuya done?
“I’ll leave you alone to let you think about your choices in peace, then.”
No.
This can’t be it, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Chuuya—
He didn’t mean it. It wasn’t him that said it. It was his mouth, but it wasn’t him. He would
never—
“Let me know when—”
“N–No!” Before the kitsune can turn around and walk away from the shambles of their life,
Chuuya grabs his kimono, stumbling forward with wide eyes and a trembling voice. “No, no,
I—”
His only hope lies in the fact that Dazai doesn’t push him away as he cups the fox’s cheek
with his other hand. In the fact that he doesn’t feel hatred through their bond. In the hope that
Dazai still loves him.
“I didn’t mean it, Osamu.” Chuuya whispers, everything crashing down on him all of a
sudden. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. This—” He holds Dazai’s face with both of his hands, his
fingers trembling, desperate to hold onto. “This isn’t your fault.”
A lone tear trails down his cheek, a single drop that feels more honest than the storm of his
heart. A tear that belongs to Chuuya and no one else.
“None of it is your fault.”
If there was a time Chuuya begged Dazai to make everything stop, a time he begged him to
end this suffering, this time Chuuya is begging him to…
To trust him.
If Dazai still can.
“I promise you it’s not, Osamu. Please, believe me.”

Why was he so angry before? Who was Chuuya fighting?
Dazai, or himself?
Or it?
Both of the kitsune’s hands wrap around Chuuya’s wrists, gently guiding them away. “...it’s
fine.”
“No!”
Shaking his head, the redhead doesn’t let Dazai push him away. His hands find their way to
the kitsune’s face again, their grip firmer now as he looks deep into the dark eye.
“I… I’m scared.” It’s barely a whisper but it’s enough to be heard in the pained silence
around them. “And angry and… it is angry and I don’t know how to make it stop, but—”
He tries to smile, though it’s a sorrowful one.
A smile even Chuuya doesn’t even believe.
“—I’m not angry at you.”
He doesn’t want to be.
Not now. Not ever.
“I don’t blame you for any of this.” His voice cracks when the dark whispers from his heart
says otherwise. “Please, Osamu. I just—”
He’s just so tired.
He’s just so torn between those voices.
He’s just so lost.
“—I don’t want to die.” is what finally finds its way out of his throat as the boy shakes his
head and new tears flow down his cheeks.
Chuuya doesn’t want to die, not so soon. Not when there is so much more to see, to
experience, so much more time he could spend with his family and stories he could hear. He
has too many regrets left, too many wishes.
He isn’t ready.
How could he be, when he’s still so young?
How can anyone ever be ready for something like this? For having their life ripped out of
their hands when they’ve just found happiness to hold onto?
The warm sparkle lights up again in Dazai’s eye, concern and anguish and regret painting his
gaze. “I know.” His hands cup Chuuya’s face now, his thumbs gently rubbing the heated skin
of the boy’s cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you either, Chuuya.”
Feeling Dazai’s touch, the redhead lets out a shuddering breath. His hands slide from the
fox’s face to his clothes, gripping at the material instead as he looks up to meet his gaze.
So much compassion in just one eye.
So much love, however deeply much hurt.
“What if it doesn’t work?” The redhead whispers, hating how afraid he sounds but unable to
stop it. “What if the blessings aren’t enough?”
Dazai looks at him without saying anything for a moment, pain lurking in every part of him.
“I don’t know, little human.” He pulls Chuuya closer, wrapping his arms and tails around the
redhead. “But if we don’t try…”
It’ll end all the same.
Or worse.
Squeezing his eyes to stop more tears pooling in them from falling, Chuuya presses his face
to Dazai’s chest, seeking comfort that he would always find there. But it’s not enough, not for
this.
‘Will it ever be enough again?’, he wonders.
“What if I forget you?”
Forget everyone?
“What if I come to hate you when it’s done?”
What if he becomes someone else? After everything they’ve been through? After they’ve
finally found each other?
“Then…” Dazai’s lips brush Chuuya’s hair as the kitsune plants a kiss on the top of his head,
his arm hugging Chuuya tighter. “...I’ll make you fall in love with me all over again…”
As many times as it takes.
In every life he’s blessed to meet him
Because Dazai wouldn’t mind it if Chuuya came to hate him one day, so long as the boy stays
alive and well. Because if only he can see him smile, be it from close or afar, it’ll be enough.
Swallowing down the sob ripping from his chest feels like swallowing needles, like Chuuya
is forcing down fire back into his lungs.
“...however many times it takes.”
Because Dazai is his husband. Because he loves Chuuya enough to be a part of his soul and
to offer himself in return—
Because no matter what, they trust each other.
On good days and on bad ones.
The way it’s supposed to be.
“...okay.” If only it would make agreeing less daunting, less terrifyingly final. “I… I’ll do it,
but…”
Chuuya tilts his head back, and as his eyes flutter open to look at Dazai, the tears start
flowing down his cheek burn with fear and resignation.
…and with the blood that fills them, leaving red trails on the pale skin.
“Let me talk to uncle Adam and uncle Paul first, I—I need to at least see them before—”
Before he may lose them.
Before they may lose him forever.
“Of course.” Dazai nods, leaning down and kissing Chuuya’s forehead, a touch lighter than a
brush of a feather. “Anything you need, Chuuya.”
They’ll rest tonight, then have the boy’s uncles visit tomorrow—
And only then, will they pray for the best.
(...or face the final challenge.)
—a few hours ago—
“They haven’t come after us in a while.”
Less than to make a conversation, Tetchou voices his thoughts to fill the silence the two of
them have been sharing for hours – every single day for the past two weeks. He doesn’t mind
it per se, but that combined with the fact he can’t move too much to make sure he doesn’t
attract anyone’s attention, it’s making him restless. His fingers twitch, eager to reach for his
sword, it’s a chore to keep his tail calm and—
“Of course, they haven’t.” Jouno sighs next to him, much calmer than the other wolf.
“Ookura’s masking spell is second to none.”
As long as they don’t cross the barrier surrounding the fox’s residence, that is. Or move too
much too suddenly.
“...”
Glancing at the white wolf, Tetchou can’t help but admire how both calm and focused Jouno
is. He’s leaning on a tree with his tail resting on his lap, and if anyone else saw him, they
would probably think he’s asleep – but he’s not. It couldn’t possibly be further from the truth.
His ears are straight up at all times and turned towards the house hidden in the forest, his
breathing deep and slow. He doesn’t move, save for answering Tetchou’s when he feels like it
– he remains still, the little bell at the end of his earring hasn’t rang even once since they got
here.
Even without Ookura’s spell, he would have likely succeeded with their mission.
Even without…
“...am I really needed here?” Tetchou asks.
Because it doesn’t feel like it.
Their task is, in theory, fairly easy: observe the vessel and figure out when he’s usually alone,
without the kitsune or the two wolves following his every step. Watch his routine, his habits,
what makes the other three allow him more space and what alerts them when there’s
something wrong. They can’t actually watch them, not from here, but—
That’s not a problem.
Not for Jouno.
The white wolf’s senses can pick up the human’s scent even from here, his ears can hear and
pinpoint exactly where the human is and what he’s doing at any given time. He can hear the
change in his heartbeat, feel his body’s pain. Jouno’s senses see more than his eyes ever could
have, he’s perfect for this, while Tetchou…
He’s here and he’s doing nothing.
“...hah?” Jouno’s brow twitches. “You’re here to protect me, aren’t you?”
That’s true, but…
“But no one’s coming for us anymore.”
“But they could.”
“We always run away in time, though.” Which is a good thing, objectively, but also makes
Tetchou’s fingers itch with frustration. He loathes running away, for whatever reason, but if
that’s the plan…
“Barely in time, Suehiro.” Jouno’s tail stirs, but the man remains otherwise unmoving.
“Would you rather go back and leave me here alone?”
Jouno, alone, so close to the kitsune’s territory and the two wolves that guard it…
Black ears shoot up, Tetchou’s back straightening in an instant. “No.”
He won’t underestimate those they stand against, he won’t risk leaving Jouno with three
demons, one of which being a kitsune even Fyodor couldn’t defeat, to face alone. He’d rather
face them himself, make sure his companion is safe rather than—
“So stop complaining.” A sigh. “You really are annoying.”
Tilting his head to the side, Tetchou looks at the other boy, his shoulders falling slightly. “I
wouldn’t leave you…”
Once again, Jouno’s brow twitches. “But you still won’t say that, huh?”
He doesn’t know what the white wolf means – of course, he doesn’t, because what else would
there be to say? – so why does his heart speed up at the comment? Why does it feel like
something inside of him wants to burst?
Like Jouno keeps playing the same chord every time? Knowingly?
Willingly?
“I—”
But before Tetchou can say anything, he’s silenced by Jouno’s raised palm and the way his
companion’s brows furrow in concentration. He can’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t have
Jouno’s sharp sense – he can only wait, and be ready when…
“They’re gone.” The other says after a moment.
The dark wolf blinks, confused for a second. “What?”
“What do you not understand? They’re gone.” With a sigh, Jouno relaxes against the tree
again. “Most likely went to seek help from someone.”
Seek help?
But that could mean the plan has failed, that they have failed—
“Stop worrying, it’s distracting.”
“But—”
“They didn’t seem convinced about it, not even the kitsune.” Jouno says with lazy
confidence. “They’ll be back soon.”
“...'' There's no arguing with him when he says it like that, not for Tetchou. “...I’m not
worried.”
He was, for a second, but if Jouno says it’s fine, then he believes him. There may be things
that the white wolf does that are… beyond Tetchou’s understanding, to say the least. It’s not
like he never doubts his friends, because he does, sometimes – like when Jouno wanted to
stab one of their own for choosing to walk away, among other things.
But there are times like this, when Jouno’s calmness weighs more than anything else. When
it’s impossible not to trust him.
“I know what you feel and when you feel it.” The white wolf kept his voice levelled, almost
disinterested if not for the faint hint of annoyance behind it. “Always.”
Another skipped heartbeat.
Another feeling stuck in his throat—
“Aw, how cute the two of you are~” A high–pitched voice rings right between them at the
same time when Tetchou feels someone dropping themselves over his back and shoulders.
But it’s not something. It’s someone.
A familiar warmth, no less.
“Bored yet?” Teruko chirps, smirking at them. “Because we’re about to move~”
She’s in her natural, adult form, which means she isn’t wearing her usual masking spell the
way she’s been fond of doing lately. It forces Tetchou to lean forward slightly when she leans
on him, her long hair tickling the boy’s neck and her ginger tail patting his own playfully.
Next to them, Jouno’s fingers tighten in his fur as the wolf speaks. “How?”
Teruko sends him a smile so bright and so cutting, the boy feels unable to move. She’s older,
though not by much, from them and she is not to be fought with. Ever.
Even if it’s over a tease that she herself started.
Teruko’s ears twitch playfully as she smirks at the boy, knowing that he can sense it without
having to see it. “Oh, don’t tell me you think Master has been sitting around doing nothing all
this time?”
No, of course not.
That person hasn’t stopped looking for a way, hasn’t stopped trying, in ages. And none of
them ever doubts him, they would never, not after everything he’s done for them—
A quiet jiggling sound rings through the air as Jouno stands up, brushing leaves and grass off
from his kimono. “Let’s go, then.”
Teruko also stands up, patting Tetchou’s shoulder. “Let’s go~”
One last time, the dark wolf looks in the direction they’ve been observing until now and
feels… weird. Unlike his usual self. He thinks about every piece of information they’ve
gathered, about the human’s everyday life, about their life…
“Ookura?”
“Hm?”
“Do you…” He thinks back to the time they visited Fyodor, to their conversation. “Do you
ever question what we’re doing?”
Jouno’s head turns to Tetchou, his brows furrowed. “Suehiro—”
“I don’t.” Teruko cuts in, her voice much lighter than the weight of her words, as she smiles
at the boy. “I know what we’re doing is considered cruel and unfair, to that human boy.”
She rests her hand on the top of Tetchou’s head, stroking the dark hair with an unusual, for
her, care behind it. It mimics someone else’s touch, from the days when Fyodor was still
there to look after them, and while it’s not the same – it’s enough to fade Tetchou’s doubts
away.
“But if it’s to help my family, I don’t mind being the bad guy.”
When Tetchou looks up at her, teruko is smiling – not threatening, not doubtful or accusatory,
just… kind. It’s the same smile she used to wear, the same she wears when they’re home,
even if…
“Do you?”
Even if it’s a somewhat tired smile now.
(Has been for a long, long while.)
But it’s in her smile that Tetchou finds once again his own wish, among the memories all of
them are trying to bring back to life. It’s in his friend that the boy finds strength again, letting
go of the doubts one last time.
Shaking his head, the dark wolf stands up. “No.”
Because if it’s to help the person that rescued and raised them… none of them minds.
No matter how wrong it may be.
Chapter End Notes

Let~ the~ final~ angst~ begin~
Let's all get through this and keep the happy ending in our minds!
Cold demon Dazai tho... that is always fun to write also.... are we ready for the big
reveal?
Old Promises
Chapter Notes
Even if Chuuya can’t hear them, he knows Ryuu and Gin are somewhere close, following the
three of them on Dazai’s orders – always and everywhere. The wolf’s eyes may not see them
directly and their ears may not be listening in on the conversations, but the Akutagawa
siblings don’t need any of that. As long as they can sense Chuuya’s presence and smell his
blood, they’ll be able to act.
Chuuya, on the other hand…
He can’t say he likes it, the lack of privacy, or simply any time just for himself, has been
getting to Chuuya for a while now, but he tries to understand. They’re paranoid for a reason –
hell, Chuuya feels paranoid more often than not these days – and if those people that have
been watching them are still around… Well, having the Akutagawa siblings follow them
around is better than letting his uncles get caught up in this mess and get hurt.
It hasn’t been that long since they all saw each other at the wedding, not even a full three
months – gods, how did everything fall apart so quickly? – but Chuuya feels like entire
decades have passed since the last time he felt this normal, this peaceful.
Since he felt like just another person, spending time with his family and laughing at his
uncle’s stupid jokes. Since he last laughed and didn’t choke on his own blood—
Since he felt happy.
Of course, that’s only an illusion Chuuya created for himself in the here and now, because no
matter how carefree he wishes this moment would be, this situation is anything but peaceful.
Or easy.
Just this morning, before Verlaine and Adam got here with Ryuu’s help, Chuuya woke up to
his arm’s bones breaking inside his body for no reason, he couldn’t stop coughing up blood
until his vision went black again. He woke up to pain that spread through his body like a
burning wave and wouldn’t leave, not until Dazai treated him with another one of Yosano’s
spells. He can still feel it, though not as much as before.
But his worst fear right now is not the pain itself, but that he’ll let it show, or that it’ll happen
again – in front of his uncles, this time. Dazai said they can wait for a better day, a safer one,
but Chuuya insisted. It’s not like waiting will do them any good.
He’s getting worse by the day, not better – the kitsune’s own words, right?
So, here they are: Chuuya and his two uncles who, despite not knowing the situation, ooze
suspicion with their every glance and word, only for the boy to ignore it and pretend like
everything is fine. They both must have thought him and Dazai would still be in the
honeymoon phase after the wedding, never getting enough of each other and ignoring the rest
of the world…
They would be if they could.
Gods, Chuuya wishes it was that easy.
Fortunately, though, Adam and Verlaine aren’t out right saying anything about the sudden
invitation and are instead acting like they normally would. They are Chuuya’s last grasp at
the life he thought he would get to lead. His last grasp at feeling alive.
They also did not question why the redhead decided to go for a walk, instead of staying at the
house with Dazai. A way to stretch his legs, to enjoy the warmth of summer on his skin.
To get out.
To see the world for the last time, to break from the four walls and their shadows. To trick his
mind into believing nothing’s wrong…
Of course, Chuuya can’t tell them that.
Not yet, not before he explains—
“And someone is spacing out again.”
Chuuya blinks, then rolls his eyes and shoots Adam a pointed look that will hopefully hide
the guilt he feels growing in his chest. “I’m not.”
“That so?” Adam raises one brow teasingly, his smirk too satisfied for Chuuya’s liking.
“What have we been talking about until now, then?”
…ugh.
“Another one of your stories.” It’s the best guess he has and it’s usually on point as well.
“You’re not wrong.” Verlaine lets out a sigh. “But which one? He has more of them than an
entire town would have.”
That’s true. “...about me?” Because he loves telling all those embarrassing stories right and
left—
“Nice try, but no.”
Well, at least Chuuya can’t say he didn't try.
He wishes they would just shut up.
He wishes they would just leave him alone.
“So?”
He knows Adam isn’t doing this on purpose, but when the man elbows him weakly on the
arm, sharp pain shoots through Chuuya’s body and hiding the grimace that pulls at his face
takes every last drop of strength he has left in him. At least it goes away as quickly as it
came, this time, but if he does it again—
“What is going on?”
Hoping they wouldn’t have asked at all was never bound to work out for Chuuya, was it?
He didn’t bring them here to avoid the matter, either. He didn’t bring them here to lie and yet
—
“Nothing.” The boy says, looking between his uncles as they continue walking. “I spaced out
for a bit, so what?”
—yet, he can’t bring himself to say it.
Humming to himself, Verlaine doesn’t let go of the matter. “And this sudden visit?”
“Weren’t you two always saying I should keep in touch more?”
“That’s true.” Adam’s lips twitch as he’s fighting his smirk. “But, you know, most people
tend to be busy after their wedding—”
“It was three months ago!”
A chuckle. “I doubt your fox husband gets tired that easily.”
Maybe it was a mistake, after all.
But on the other side, even if Chuuya can feel the concern written between their lines, the
light tone and the, embarrassing but carefree, jokes are what the redhead needed. What he
needs and what he wishes to listen to over and over again if it means he can just stay with
them and not—
“How about we don’t talk about that, please?”
—not die.
Huffing out a laugh, Verlaine pats Chuuya’s shoulder gently. “We won’t…” But that would
be too easy, wouldn’t it? “...if you tell us what’s going on.”
He should.
He really should.
They deserve it. Chuuya brought them here to do exactly that – talk. About his situation,
about what happens if something goes wrong. About how he doesn’t want to leave them to
their grief. About how much he loves them—
Chuuya stops, his body itching to run away and hide.
Or to make them go away.
“If I tell you…” He mumbles, looking at the two slightly more concerned now faces. “...can
you try to… not get too worried?”
They both frown, already worrying.
“You aren’t making this easy for us, kid.” Adam says.
“Chuuya,” Verlaine takes a step closer, placing a hand on the boy’s arm reassuringly. “What’s
wrong?”
Everything.
Everything is wrong.
His body is falling apart and the thing inside of him is making Chuuya go insane by the day,
it makes the nightmares worse every single time and it makes them feel so terrifyingly real.
He’s constantly tired, constantly waiting for injuries to start appearing on their own, for blood
to escape his body as if it was nothing.
He doesn’t feel like himself anymore.
He doesn’t know what to do.
He’s dying—
“...I got sick.”
He can’t.
The truth just won’t come out.
Both Adam and Paul’s expressions instantly turn into the perfect picture of concern, of what
Chuuya feared he would cause, their eyes scanning his face.
“Sick?” With two hands on Chuuya’s shoulders now, Verlaine looks him over carefully.
“When? Are you okay?”
No, he’s not fucking okay!
He’s—
“I’m fine.” Chuuya offers them his most reassuring smile, even if that’s far from anything
he’s feeling right now. Or has for the past few weeks. “Well, maybe not exactly ‘fine’...”
Standing next to Paul with a worried expression, Adam suddenly looks older, less carefree
and more like the man that would hug the redhead’s child self thought every night when his
tears wouldn’t stop. “Chuuya—”
“I just wanted to see you, that’s all.”
As the redhead brings his arms up, the sting from this morning returns, but Chuuya swallows
the pain down the best he can. He covers Paul’s hands with his own, squeezing them briefly
before pulling away. He doesn’t want to let go, Verlaine’s touch makes him feel safe and
loved but—
But it also hurts.
In more than one way.
It hurts the fresh scars, sets his muscles on fire with the lightest of touches, and it’s breaking
Chuuya’s heart to feel its tenderness. To know how much love and care there is in everything
his uncles do, and how he pays them back with lies.
“It’s… a pretty serious one.” Chuuya says slowly. “But it’s in the early stage…” And it’s
already making his life miserable. Making being alive unbearable. “...and Dazai knows
someone who can help…” Someone who said they may be able to help, not that they can.
“...and I just wanted to see you before we go to them.”
In case it’s only Dazai that comes back.
Lying to them feels like betraying the people Chuuya loves, like betraying their trust and all
the years they’ve spent looking after him. They deserve better, they deserve to know the risk
if nothing else—
But Chuuya has already put a sentence on himself and if he can’t offer his family any genuine
hope, he’d rather offer them a lie. He’d rather tell them anything other than the fact that he
may never see them again.
It’s inconsiderate, he knows, he’s doing exactly what Dazai said would hurt them the most –
he’s leaving them in the dark. It physically hurts to push the words out of his throat, to smile
with a lie so sweet it makes him want to puke, but all of that is still better than letting his true
thoughts out.
No matter what, Chuuya won’t break down in front of them.
He won’t watch them break down because of him.
If it goes wrong, if he doesn’t make it… He wants to go with the image of his uncles smiling
at him engraved into his mind.
It’s selfish of him, and it’ll hurt them more later on if whatever Mori has planned doesn’t
work, but… This one time, Chuuya doesn’t mind being the bad guy.
Why would he? He is evil.
He doesn’t mind going against himself and everything he’s felt until now. He has hurt them in
his dreams already, anyway.
He will hurt them, he will destroy everyone—
Guilt flows through his veins like poison, but he’s grown used to it.
“To relax, you know?”
To say goodbye, even if it’s only him that knows it.
The smile that blooms on his face is the best one he can muster, pushing the sorrows and
fears as far back into the deepest corners of his mind as possible. “I’m still not too fond of
doctors.”
It takes a moment of suffocating silence and of nerves creeping into Chuuya’s gut under his
uncles’ gazes, but then he can feel himself relax when they both nod.
Maybe they decided it’s better not to push when he obviously looks tired already?
Or maybe they trust him enough to believe this cruel lie he’s telling?
“But are you sure you’re fine?”
No.
“And you will tell us if anything happens?”
He wanted to, that was the plan but he can’t.
“Yeah.” He places one hand on Adam’s arm and another one on Paul’s, pushing them gently
in the same directions as before. “Let’s go?”
“...”
“...”
Chuuya can feel their hesitation, the urge to ask more questions, but neither Adam or Verlaine
bring up the matter again. Not directly, anyway. They glace at the redhead suspiciously from
time to time, their voices painted with lingering worry, which means Chuuya has to act extra
careful.
Don’t show any signs of pain, hold every cough back in case there’s blood coming with it.
Don’t sound like a person who’s given up and is only waiting to never wake up.
It’s tiring, more than it should be, but at least it brings his uncles’ smiles out and…
“How is married life treating you?” Verlaine asks at some point. “Besides being sick, that is.”
He adds, apologetic.
Another question the redhead more than expected to be asked.
Another question he isn’t sure how to answer.

“It’s…”
Complicated. Sorrowful.
Full of mistakes. Full of hurt and misery.
“...nice.”
“Nice?” Adam’s brows shoot up in surprise. “Just nice?”
Verlaine hums, exchanging looks with the other man. “Even with that, you don’t sound too
convinced, Chuuya.”
Because he’s not.
He used to be, used to love every second of every day, but he doesn’t anymore. It’s too
difficult now.
“I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The boy lets out a sigh, looking down
at the grass and bushes around them. “It’s just… complicated recently.”
And that may have been the wrong choice of words, even if the most suiting, because
Verlaine’s voice lowers instantly as his protectiveness resurfaces—
“Has Dazai done something?”
Oh, how simple would that be, compared to everything else.
“No.” Chuuya’s voice turns quieter, his fingers playing with the hem of his sleeves just to
keep himself from falling into the abyss of guilt and regret. “It was me.” He whispers. “I said
something I shouldn’t have.”
Something he didn’t mean.
Something that hurt so bad, both of them.
“...you guys had a fight?”
There’s something in Paul’s voice that tugs at the corners of Chuuya’s lips – the pure surprise
with which his uncle says it, as if the idea of them fighting was nothing short of absurd.
Because the image Verlaine has of them is still the one that’s full of love and happiness, of
peace, not of…
Not of love and despair.
Or of the struggles they can’t face alone while also being unable to help each other with.
Not of the accusations that were born out of frustration and foreign hatred.
“Sort of?” Another sigh escapes Chuuya’s chest. Just thinking about that conversation makes
his heart ache. “It was mostly my fault, though.”
Or its.
Or Dazai’s.
If the fox would just give up.
If he would just mind his own life and not Chuuya’s.
At his other side, Adam pokes his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really?” Feeling somewhat guilty, Chuuya sends them both an apologetic smile. “We’re
fine now.”
He hopes so, anyway.
After that fight, Dazai tried to give Chuuya space – he tried to escape – but after doing it
himself, Chuuya knows what being distant looks like. He saw the way the kitsune wanted to
back away because his words stabbed right through Dazai’s heart. Maybe it was guilt mixed
with love that overcame the hatred and rage in his chest, but the redhead didn’t let him go. He
held him close the rest of the day and night, apologising over and over again, even when
Dazai kept telling him he didn't have to do this.
In the end, Chuuya feels like the fox believed him when he said it wasn’t him that spoke
those words.
It doesn’t mean Dazai isn’t still hurt by it, Chuuya can feel it every time he forces the
whispers to keep quiet and listens to the voice of Dazai’s heart on the other side of their bond.
But that song, pained and regretful, always comes with another one—
With a melody of understanding, of trust.
It’s more than Chuuya would ever ask for, more than he believes himself deserving of, but he
holds onto that quiet melody like his lifeline, believing in the love Dazai offered him when
their souls became one.
“I’ll make it up to him.” If he ever gets a chance, that is.
Adam hums. “If you say so.”
(Light reflecting from something hits the corner of Chuuya’s eye, bright but lost among the
rays falling over them from behind the trees’ crowns.)
“But maybe it’s better that it was your fault…”
(Is that water?)
“...burying Mr Fox in garlic and spices could have been quite challenging.”
(Has there always been a pond here—)

Wait.
“Killing him in the traditional way would be more convenient. “ Verlaine adds, jokingly.
Huh?
(Just like that, they walk away from a place the redhead doesn’t recognise and Chuuya
forgets about it. For now)
“What are you even talking about?” The boy looks between them, baffled. “Burying him?
The traditional way? He’s my—”
“Husband. Yeah, yeah, we know.” Adam waves his hand dismissively. “But if he ever makes
you cry, he has to pay for it.”
“Isn’t killing people against some of your priest rules?”
Not to mention common law, but it’s not like Chuuya was ever bothered by it when he was
sending those travellers to their demise at Dazai’s hands in the past, so he doesn’t get to
judge.
“I think it’s only humans that are mentioned there.” Adam says matter–of–factly.
“...you’re joking, right?”
More playful than the situation calls for it, Verlaine hums to himself. “Are we, now?”
“I don’t know, Paul, are we?”
Chuuya shakes his head at that. It’s not the first time Adam is offering to use Dazai’s keen
senses against the fox in retaliation, but it is the first time Verlaine is indulging him in it.
Plus, despite the lightness of their voice, there is a single note of honesty in their voices.
A single note of ‘we would do it’.
Not that it would work, of course.
“...that’s stupid.” The boy rolls his eyes at them.. “Downright absurd.”
“Maybe.” Adam chuckles.
“But you know…” Verlaine rests his hand on Chuuya’s shoulders, giving him a small
squeeze. “People do stupid things if it’s for their loved ones. That’s what family is for.”
—
“Did…” A violent cough rocks Chuuya’s body when the boy starts to speak, red splattering
onto the towel he always carries around the house for that exact reason. “Did they try to
ask…?”
It was only a short visit, less than a day. Mostly because Chuuya wouldn’t be able to pretend
he’s fine for longer than that, but also because of what Mori said – they shouldn’t wait too
long. If he made his uncles stay longer… he wouldn’t want to let them go. He would want to
risk losing them.
Ryuu and Gin look at him with sad smiles, offering to help him get back to the room, but
Chuuya only grumbles a quiet ‘I’m fine’ and continues on his own.
“They did.” Ryuu agrees, walking next to the redhead. “But we didn’t say anything you
wouldn’t want us to.”
Well, Adam and Paul would have probably come back here if they had known the truth,
which means the wolf must be telling the truth. Or some of it, at least.
“Thanks.”
“But they were really worried. They know you’re hiding something.”
Of course, they do. They were there when Chuuya was only learning to hide information
from others, as a child.
“Doesn’t matter.” The boy supports himself on the wall, his head beginning to feel dizzy.
“Chuuya…” Another fit of coughing cuts Gin off, painting the white towel with more of
Chuuya’s blood. “...”
It’s in his lungs, flowing from his nose and eyes. “Sorry…”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Yes, I’m—AGH—!”
As if the world was determined to prove him wrong, or to make the boy suffer even more
after a full day of acting like he isn’t being ripped apart from within, intense pain shoots
through his body. He can feel his skin being cut open across his back, as if someone’s sword
grazed his flesh, and blood soaking into his clothes.
“Chuuya!”
Before he can fall, losing balance from the shock and pain, Ryuu and Gin grab his arm each,
holding him up. And not even two seconds later, Dazai is with them, his tails supporting
Chuuya’s body.
“I’ll take care of the rest.” The fox says, scooping the redhead up carefully.
Concern washes over the siblings’ faces as they watch the kitsune take him away, just like it
does every single time it happens—
Just like it does every single day.
Chuuya hisses when a wet towel meets the long cut on his back, flinching away from it
involuntarily. He knows it’s going to help, he knows Dazai has to clean it before they can use
Yosano’s spell to heal him, but it still hurts. And it’s so, so cold on his burning skin.
Everything feels cold recently, even the warm summer air and the sun kissing his skin. The
world is drowning in heat while Chuuya spends his days shivering—
“...please, bear with it for a while longer.” Dazai’s voice is quiet as the movements of his
hand on Chuuya’s back become more gentle, barely–touches.
It means it’ll take longer than necessary, making the redhead curse at his own body. He
wishes Dazai wouldn’t care, that the fox would clean the wound fast and without caring
about Chuuya’s discomfort, just to get this over with quicker. But he doubts that’s an option
so, instead, Chuuya tries to focus on something else, distracting his mind from the physical
pain he’s in.
It rarely works these days but he has to try.
He’ll try anything just to take a single breath that won’t shatter his ribs.
“So… when are you taking me to him?”
They’ve barely talked about it since the last time, the fight made it an even more sensitive
topic than Chuuya’s situation was before. Adam and Verlaine are already gone and, yet, the
kitsune hasn’t tried getting him to Mori the moment his uncles disappeared with Ryuu’s
smoke.
“Whenever Chuuya tells me to.”
Oh, so now it’s Chuuya’s choice and not Dazai’s—
Stop it.
Do not go there. Do not let it drag you there.
With a sigh interrupted by another hiss, Chuuya looks down at the bloodied towel resting on
his lap. “Not today.” He says absentmindedly. “I’m too tired.” Too scared.
Tomorrow? He can’t know.

“Not today, then.”
Despite him agreeing, the boy can hear the faint note of impatience in Dazai’s voice and it’s
a… complicated feeling, one that they share. Because both Chuuya and Dazai want this to
work, they want Mori to help them and they want things to go back to normal now, or as fast
as possible. They’ve had enough of this misery.
But there’s always this creeping fear that something may go wrong, that if they go rushing
into it, it’ll only cut their time together short. Chuuya is scared of taking that leap of faith,
and he knows Dazai is too, even if the kitsune masks it better than him.
With the excuse of seeing Adam and Paul, the excuse to wait even more is gone. Now, it’s up
to Chuuya to decide when he’s ready to risk his life for a small chance to get better, or to
even make it out alive at all. But how could he ever be ready for it?
A part of him wishes Dazai would just… force him to go, tell him it’s time and that they have
to try, but another part of him wants to stay. Enjoy this life for a while longer, while it lasts.
One more day with Ryuu and Gin.
One more night with Dazai.
One more—
“How was your time with your uncles?” It’s most likely a distraction from the pain, rather
than genuine curiosity, but Chuuya appreciates it nevertheless.
“Good.” But now every smile feels like a betrayal, calmness born out of a lie. “They were
being absurd at times, though.”
Maybe it’s forced, but Dazai lets out a huffed chuckle at the comment. “Aren’t they always?”
“They don’t always make elaborate plans of burying you alive in garlic and spices, or
exorcising you with some weird rituals and shit.”
Dazai’s hand stops for a moment, but then the kitsune dips the cloth in cold water and goes
back to cleaning Chuuya’s wound. “I see I lost my good word with them.”
Not that he has ever tried too hard to keep it, of course, but the mock pout does make the
redhead’s lips curl slightly.
“No, you’re fine.” He says, slowly getting used to the sting on his back. “It was in some
made up scenario where you did something to me.”
“Ah, so I would have deserved it, then.”
He does.
He does.
He does.
“Not really.” The fox can’t see him, but Chuuya still rolls his eyes at that. “They meant
making me cry, or something like that. For that, death is a little extreme, even when it’s
them.”
Behind his back, Dazai hums. “I don’t know about that.”
He puts the wet cloth away and applies the balm Yosano gave them, before placing the small
piece of paper with the spell in the middle of Chuuya’s back. Finally, the pain fades as his
skin closes, healing itself.
“I would have gladly killed that human for what he’s done if given a chance, and the other
two with him.”
Hearing Dazai talk about killing people isn’t that new to Chuuya, it doesn’t faze him anymore
– he knows this is his demonic nature speaking and he doesn’t pretend to mind it – but this
time, it makes his mind halt and his brows furrow.
That human?
…Sigma?
“Don’t.” Chuuya hears himself say, despite how something dark and angry rumbles in his
chest. “If you’re talking about Sigma, don’t.”
Once the wound closes up, relief washes over the redhead. He straightens his back and puts a
clean kimono on, feeling only an uncomfortable pull at his skin around the fresh scars.
The kitsune watches him carefully, searching for any signs of pain coming back. “He
deserves it.”
Well, he did more than just make Chuuya cry, but…
Does he really?
“It’s not up to you to decide.”
Letting out a half–sigh and half–yawn, Chuuya turns around to look up at the fox. There’s
many conflicting and violent emotions he feels towards Sigma and, if he’s being honest, he’d
rather not think about him at all. But if he must, even if it doesn’t make any sense, he—
“I don’t want you killing him.”
Not out of hatred. Not for revenge.
There was a time when the redhead thought that’s what he wanted but… he isn’t so sure
anymore.
Dazai’s eye narrows. “Why?”

Somehow, it feels like the fox had full intention of going after Sigma, and probably the other
two as well, once this is over. That it wasn’t just an offhand comment but rather a promise of
what is still yet to come and, despite everything else, Chuuya can’t bring himself to
appreciate it.
“Because he…”
He was a friend.
He was Chuuya’s student.
He was kind.
…until he turned into a traitor.
“...because it wasn’t his plan.” The boy ends up saying. “He didn’t want to hurt me.”
“Chuuya.” Dazai’s gaze turns darker, his voice lowering. “Don’t try to justify what he did. He
isn’t your friend.”
“I know.”
But Sigma did cry in the end, and a part of Chuuya can’t seem to forget that sight. Or the
apologies Sigma whispered in that cave and before.
“And I’m not justifying anything.”
He would never.
He can’t, not after what he’s been put through because of trusting Sigma. Chuuya isn’t that
much of a good person to unconditionally forgive everyone who wronged him, he doesn’t
have it in himself to forgive Sigma for what he’s done.
If he can choose, he doesn’t want to see him ever again, doesn’t want to remember the time
when he thought they were friends. But he isn’t as angry as he was back then, he’s just tired.
//You miss them, don’t you?//
//Yeah. But I want to help, I’d do anything to help them.//
It’s weird, his feelings towards the part of it that Sigma played. Towards the days they spent
painting and eating sweet treats, and towards the sight of him leaving with the cat demon
while all Chuuya could do was struggle with the chains around his wrists.
//People do stupid things if it’s for their loved ones, that’s what family is for.//
Why did it have to happen to him? Whose plan was it? Was all of it truly a lie? Was any of it
true?
…not that it matters.
“I just…” Running a hand through his hair, Chuuya moves closer to Dazai. “Even if you’re
right and he does deserve it…”
//Chuuya–san, I’m sorry.//
“...I wouldn’t want you to kill him.”
Because back after it has just happened and the wounds on his heart left behind by a knife
that cut their friendship were only beginning to close, Chuuya would find himself wondering
as the silence of the days that followed kept him company—
If it was Dazai who asked him to do the same, would Chuuya have refused?
Or would he have been the same as Sigma?
“A pond?”
Ever since he started coughing up blood, it’s been getting more and more difficult to eat, to
swallow anything down. Which is why, more often than not, Chuuya chooses to avoid it if he
can. Of course, with Dazai sitting right in front of him, it’s not as easy as when he’s alone.
“Yeah. When I was walking with uncle Adam and uncle Paul yesterday.” In times like these,
the redhead chooses to make conversation as he plays with his food and hopes for it to
disappear from his sight. “I just remembered about it now.”
The kitsune looks out the open door, his eye narrowing. “There are streams around here, yes,
but I have never seen a pond in the forest.”
In his forest. After decades upon decades of living here.
“I’t probably noth—”
“I’ll go check.”
Chuuya almost drops his chopsticks, his eyes blown wide as he watches the fox get up from
the cushion. “...huh? But it’s just a pond, what are you—” But the expression on Dazai’s face
makes Chuuya’s words lose their will, dying in his throat.
“Water is a powerful tool, Chuuya.” Dazai’s ears are alert and turned to face the forest, his
tails unnaturally still. “Used for an array of spells.” His lips twitch unpleasantly and his fangs
flash as he speaks. “Dangerous ones.”
The redhead flinches involuntarily, remembering that there are supposed to be people
watching them. Remembering that it’s not just the fact that he’s dying looming over them, but
also the fact that someone is after him, after the thing inside of him.
They could go to Mori now, but… Chuuya is trying, he really is, but he’s not ready yet.
And it was just a pond – not even that, because the boy isn't sure if that’s exactly what he
saw. It could have been a play of light, or anything else. He didn’t look that closely.
“I won’t be long.” The fox adds, his voice softer as he looks at Chuuya.
“But—”
“I’ll have Gin guard you here until I come back.” The fox adds. “And Rashoumon.”
“...” Chuuya’s shoulders droop, defeated, and he goes back to picking at his food. “Fine.”
“I’ll be close.” It’s with this one last promise that Dazai walks out and slides the door shut,
leaving the redhead to himself. He can sense him there, confused and… getting up? Is he
finished with the meal?
Barely a few steps away from the engawa, the kitsune summons the Akutagawa siblings to
his side, pushing the concern away for a moment. There’s no pain that he can sense, no
danger.
“Was there anything unusual yesterday?” He asks. “When Chuuya’s uncles were here?”
Because the wolves know the area around the residence as well as he does if not better, but—
“No, Dazai–sama.”
—is it possible they were too focused on Chuuya and his uncles to notice it?
The fox half–turns to face them. “Chuuya says he saw a pond in the forest.” His eye narrows
when both Ryuu and Gin frown, confused. “You were following them at all times, correct?”
“Yes.” They both speak at once.
Then, it’s only Ryuu again. “But we haven’t seen anything like that.”
Does that mean Chuuya saw it wrong? Did he mistake a stream for a pond? Or was there a
spell covering the water, something that would only work on yōkai while allowing human
eyes to penetrate it? But if it was powerful enough to trick the siblings, the caster must be…
“What about the intruders?” He asks instead.
“They’ve been gone for a while.”
…is that so?
His ears aren’t picking up anything, everything in the forest smells like it always does and
Dazai can’t sense anyone inside the barrier. There’s only Chuuya, walking around the house.
So why does it feel odd?
“Gin, stay with Chuuya.” Glancing at the closed door, Dazai can’t help but feel uneasy about
this. But at the same time – he meant it when he said water can be powerful and dangerous,
and he has to check it. “Ryuu, leave Rashoumon with her and go check the barrier again.”
“Yes, Dazai–sama.”
—a few hours before—
“Are you sure it will work?”
“Yes, with Master’s help. But only for a very short time. After that I’ll be on my own.”
“But what if they’ll be able to tell it’s you. If you’re alone when they notice—”
“Are you doubting my skills? Besides…” Teruko’s smirks tiredy. “That’s what I’ve got you
two for, right?”
—present time—
Once Dazai and her brother disappear from her side, Gin offers a small smile to Rashoumon,
patting the wolf’s head before turning around to head back inside. But before she reaches the
doors, a cough coming from somewhere to the right catches her attention. It sounds painful
and violent, exactly like what she’s used to, but it isn’t coming from inside the house.
“...?” Looking to the side, Gin sees a familiar figure, smells a familiar scent and senses a
familiar presence.
…Chuuya?
When did he leave the house? And what for?

Hunched next to the wall and supporting himself with one hand as he chokes on coughed–out
blood, Chuuya looks pale, barely hanging onto his strengths. When Gin takes a step towards
him, worried, the redhead looks up smiling at her as if to say ‘don’t worry’ before
disappearing around the corner of the house.
Was he listening to what they were saying? Did he get worried?
It’s true that Gin can’t sense anything from the main room, where Chuuya usually eats…
Before she has any time to question her thoughts, a faint sound of someone falling to the
ground reaches her ears, coming from…
“Chuuya?!”
With Rahsoumon at her side, Gin runs to where the redhead disappeared only to find him
lying on the grass, coughing into his hand and his body trembles all over. She kneels down
next to him, helping the boy sit up carefully.
“S…” More blood flows out of his mouth, trailing down the pale neck. “Sorry…”
Gin shakes her head, taking out a clean cloth from the folds of her kimono to offer him.
…isn’t he always carrying around a towel these days, though?
Rashoumon sits next to them, his ears lowered and tail unmoving on the ground. He must be
worried, too, the girl thinks to herself.
“Let’s get you ins—”
But before Gin can finish her sentence, her body stills as her senses pick up two new scents,
the same ones that have been lingering outside the barrier before. They aren’t close, certainly
not close enough to be a threat to Chuuya here, but they’re coming from…
From where Ryuu went.
“Rashoumon!” The smoke–wolf’s ears shoot up as he bares his fangs and leaps towards the
forest, disappearing among the trees. “Chuu—”
Once again, Gin’s words are cut off.
But this time, it’s not a new scent that takes them away, or anyone else’s voice, no. This time,
it’s the feeling of a dagger piercing her stomach, twisting between her insides. With wide
eyes and poison paralysing her body, she looks back at—
“Don’t worry, little girl. It won’t kill you, I promise~”
—not Chuuya?
—
“Gin?!” Ryuu’s head snaps back towards the residence, a dangerous growl ripping out from
his chest as he’s about to leap forward…
“Oh, no. How rude.”
But he can’t. There are two people standing in his way, keeping him here while his sister is
hurt, two wolves – a white and dark one.
“Ignoring us already?”
And without Rashoumon, Ryuu isn’t sure if he can make it quick.
“Chuuya?!”
“Huh?”
Was that Gin? Did something happen?
The redhead gets up to his feet, walking around the small table and to the door, sliding it open
again to reveal their garden.
“Gin?”
But there’s no one on the other side. Not Gin, not Dazai. The kitsune has most likely already
gone to threaten all the water in the forest into leaving them alone, but Gin and Rashoumon
were meant to stay with him and that was definitely the girl’s voice so… where are they?
And… What is that smell?
It’s… salty?
The boy walks out of the room, looking around to search for the girl that called out to him
with a worried voice but it seems like he’s the only one around. Everything seems peaceful,
the flowers lazily swaying in the gentle breeze – not a single soul around, only Chuuya.
Until, on one step, his body freezes.
Until, on one step, he feels something wet under his foot—
And an arm wraps around him.

—
There’s nothing unusual, no pond whatsoever as far as Dazai can see.
However—
Right here, where Chuuya claimed to have seen it, there is a new scent lingering on the grass.
A delicate one, too faint to pick up on unless you get very close to it, or unless you know to
look for it specifically. It’s not a threatening smell but Dazai knows it doesn’t belong here,
not in the forest. It’s the smell of…
Dazai’s eye widen as realisation hits him, making his blood boil and his claws to sharpen.
Salt.
Ocean—
HIM.
In an instant, everything reaches him – the new scents mixing with Ryuu’s, the smell of Gin’s
blood and a presence that Dazai knows from the old and dark memories resurfacing in his
mind. It takes less than a heartbeat for his flames to swallow him whole, the shadows of the
forest disappearing before sunlight hits his face again among the garden’s flowers—
“Did you really think I would be late again?” He growls, baring fangs as his claws dig into
the man’s arm. “Let him go.”
Chuuya looks at him with wide eyes and Dazai can hear how fast his heart races, he can feel
the blood rushing in his veins from where he’s holding onto the boy’s arm with his other
hand. But the redhead doesn’t say anything, he can’t. Not when his hand is pressed to
Chuuya’s mouth, keeping the boy’s lips sealed.
A man in long, light blue falling into white kimono, with woven waves that seem to flow
through the material. Darker robes peek from underneath it, black with gold threaded into it.
His haori – a darker shade of blue, like the storm on an open sea – falls freely from one of his
shoulders, pooling at the elbow as if the man didn’t care enough to adjust it properly.
Chuuya is unmoving, his back pressed into the man’s chest as the arm around his shoulder
and the hand on his face keep him there.
“Oh, no.”
As the man speaks, fangs flash from behind his lips, sharper and bigger than Dazai’s. His
long, white hair blows in the gentle wind like sea foam splashing on the rock at the coast, and
his eyes shine with the scarlet of a sunset nearing the ocean’s horizon.
An image of elegance and fleeting beauty.
And of the night that promises to fall, of the storm that shall rage under its cover.
“I’ve been caught.”
There are blue scales around the corners of his eyes, reflecting sunlight like waves captured
from the ocean and coming all the way down to his neck until they disappear under the
material, and a small, black horn on his forehead.
“What shall I do now?”
His words are a mockery, a trick he doesn’t even try to put any effort into. Because he doesn’t
feel the need to.
Dazai’s fingers tighten over his arm, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “I said…” His tails
shoot from behind him, aiming for the other man’s vital spots while avoiding hurting Chuuya
the best he can. “Let him go, Shibusawa.”
On instinct, Chuuya squeezes his eyes when Dazai’s tails shoot forward. But instead of
feeling himself be set free by them, instead of feeling the man behind him fall dead on the
ground… He hears laughter.
Not obnoxious, not overbearing – it’s well tamed, amused, a light chuckle and nothing above
it.
“I know what you said, young fox.” Shibusawa muses. “Oh, and no. I expected you to come
on time.”
As he opens his eyes, Chuuya’s heart sinks, cold sweat breaking out on his body. Dazai is still
there, still holding onto him and the man, but his tails are bleeding, covered in deep cuts as
they retract behind him. But the boy only gets a second to worry about that, because the very
next moment…
It happens faster than the kitsune can stop it.
Sharp pain shoots through Dazai’s body when something hard hits his side, digging into his
body with enough force to punch his breath out of him. It makes his hold loosen, his fingers
slipping from the two arms he’s been desperate to hold onto.
Just like that, Chuuya’s scared expression disappears from Dazai’s sight as the kitsune is sent
flying across the garden. His back hits the tree painfully, and he can taste blood on his tongue
—
“It’s simply not a problem for me.”
Chuuya watches with terror as the long tail covered with sharp scales hoovers in front of
them, and when his gaze moves to Dazai… He looks injured, even more so than before, and
there is so much blood soaking his clothes.
“MNGH!”
“Ah, don’t worry, young human.” Shibusawa’s voice is too calm and, as Chuuya faintly
realises, it’s disturbingly gentle, too.
But why?
What does he gain from it?
“He will heal. Now, it’s time for us to…”
Before he can finish, bright blue flames shoot around them, swallowing the two figures
completely. Dazai’s eye swirls with crimson as he stands up, spitting out blood. He knows
Chuuya won’t be harmed by his flames, he only needs to make Shibusawa loosen his hold for
a second, just long enough for him to—
The tornado of fire, of the flames that search for Chuuya, disappears in the vertex of
illuminating water as Dazai’s spell fades. It comes down in a rain of glittering drops, the tall
figure in the middle of it turning around to face the kitsune, unfazed.
“...go.”
The last thing Dazai sees is a pair of wide, terrified blue eyes staring at him.
//I won’t let it happen again.//
The last image he’s allowed to engrave into his mind is Chuuya, dragged underneath the clear
surface stretching under Shibusawa’s feet as the two of them sink into the dark waters and—
//I promise.//
—he’s gone.
Dazai let him go.
(Aren’t the shards of a shattered promise cutting beautifully deep?)
Chapter End Notes

😇😇😇
Let me just tell you: you may think you know what's happening, but it's actually not that
easy AND IT WILL HURT, but hey, Dazai DID make it in time this time around! Kind
of! :')
But let's just keep the happy ending in mind, shall we? :3
Also, YES SHIBUSAWA IS A DRAGON AND HE'S ALSO VERY PRETTY EVEN IF
HE ACTS AS THE "BAD GUY"
Not me dropping hints about him 300k ago lol

Too Close, Too Far Away
Chapter Notes
Again.
It happened again.
No—
This is worse than the last time Dazai felt this way, much worse.
As if time slowed down around him, everything seems so painfully clear, every smallest
detail burning itself into Dazai’s mind. The way water droplets are carried by the wind, a
wave of reflected light ghosting over the ground before it disappears into its embrace. The
shadow cast around him by the tree, the dark patterns dancing on the green grass.
How quiet it is.
How peaceful.
How wrong—
With lips parted on a name that is forever stuck in his throat, Dazai doesn’t even breathe. His
arm is frozen, extended towards where no one is waiting for him. Towards where Chuuya
was just a second ago.
It’s like a nightmare becoming reality, a déjà vu of his worst fears coming back to haunt him,
only this time…
He wasn’t late.
As his gaze falls to his hand, Dazai can still feel it – Chuuya’s arm under his fingers, the
slight tremble of the redhead’s body. He was here and Dazai reached him in time. He could
have protected him, he should have been able to, so why—
Why wasn’t he?
Why did his hand let go of Chuuya?
Why is his husband gone? Taken by someone again, while Dazai can only stand there with
the memory of blue eyes searching for his help burnt into his mind?
Of the same blue eyes who would look at him with so much hope, so much trust, whenever
he would say Chuuya doesn’t have to worry about anything anymore because Dazai will
protect him no matter what.
How many times did he swear it?
Dazai promised to never let Chuuya go and he failed.
The last droplets falling to the ground feel like a final sentence on his defeat, the last traces of
Chuuya, gone together with the boy.
… Shibusawa’s droplets.
…on Dazai’s ground, in their garden.
Right before anger can plant its roots in the guilt of Dazai’s heart, the one last thought that
races through his mind is the one that makes the kitsune hate himself more than anything
else, because—
How could he have missed it?
How could he have ignored the signs?
The one person crazy enough to do the impossible and find a dead god’s essence scattered
around the dimensions. The one person Fyodor would never refuse to help. The one person
who—
Who should be dead.
Who Dazai thought was dead, after everything that has happened.
He should have known, should have expected this, and maybe a part of him did – a deep, old
part of him that was scared it was all that dragon’s doing. But Dazai would always dismiss it
as the shadows of his past haunting his already troubled and exhausted mind, old mistakes
and their consequences rattling in their cages.
And a mistake it was, to ignore that feeling.
But how could he have known?
This scent, this presence, that man – it’s been so long since Dazai felt him walk the earth,
since the last time Shibusawa was himself and the earth welcomed him as its own. What
happened to him after that is something that no one survives for long, not even in legends. It
always ends the same way, sooner or later—
Yet, here he was just now.
Another legend walking on the shards of the impossible.
Blood and flesh and alive and with Chuuya…
A low growl rings from deep within Dazai’s chest as his hands clench into fists and his eye
flashes with bloodlust. The summer’s warmth doesn’t reach him, there is only the cold
emptiness of having his love ripped away from him right in front of his eyes. Right from his
arms.
And there is also fire.
Rage seeping into the fox’s heart and then to everything surrounding him. Blue flames
swallow the ground, their fingers burning the wet grass and the ground underneath it until
there is nothing of Shibusawa left behind.
Everywhere where he stood, there is only a burnt trail.
Every flower bathed with the dragon’s water – turned to ash.
The wounds on his tail sting and he can still taste blood on his tongue. His side painfully
reminds him of how hard dragon scales are and how unpleasant broken bones feel, but none
of it matters. None of it can even begin to compare to the pain having Chuuya taken away
brings. To the mad rage it fills him with.
His fangs ache with the urge to sink into Shibusawa’s throat, his claws dig into his palms
with the need to rip everything into pieces and kill anyone standing in his way.
It’s all so familiar, as if the feeling from the last time Chuuya was taken hasn’t left him at all.
However, unlike with Fyodor, this time Dazai doesn’t need to search, doesn’t need to race
against the unknown—
He knows where Chuuya is.
The bond may be only a muffled, faint tingle of what it was before Arahabaki’s presence
started to interfere, but it’s strong enough to follow its trail, right to where Chuuya is.
Right to where Dazai will take the dragon’s life, even if it’s the last thing he does.
“Gin!”
The moment Ryuu sees his sister lying on the ground behind the house, he leaps forward and
falls to his knees at her side. He moves her carefully to lay on her back, searching for the
blood he can smell on her—
“Gin…”
His eyes widen when he sees the front of her kimono drenched in blood, her eyes struggling
to stay open as the girl tries to focus on her brother. The sight of it opens the gates of
everything Ryuu always keeps locked away in the deepest corners of his mind.
Shock. Disbelief. Hatred.
Rage.
Someone hurt his sister and they kept Ryuu away when Gin needed him.
“R…uu…”
Swallowing down his anger, the boy shakes his head, offering Gin the most soothing smile he
can muster right now. “Shh. Don’t try to speak.” He’s no doctor, he doesn’t know how bad it
is, but she shouldn’t be pushing herself right now. Now is no time to be stubborn or blinded
by hatred, they need to get her to Yosano—
…is that poison that he smells?
“...s… orry…”
Shaking his head again, Ryuu brushes away long strands of hair from Gin’s face. “We need to
help you first, okay? Do you think you can—”
Blue flames shoot up in front of them all of a sudden, brighter and hotter than any of them
ever remembers them to be.
“Use this.”
And before the small package can even hit the ground, Dazai disappears again without
another word.
Puzzled, the boy stares at the small package wrapped in a blue and gold cloth for a second. It
looks like Yosano’s, like one of the things she gave Dazai after the incident with Fyodor, for
when Chuuya may need it…
But then he shakes himself out of it. Gin needs him to focus.
Only… when he takes it, Ryuu can’t help but worry – about his sister, about Dazai and how
the kitsune didn’t say anything else, only left in a hurry. Left them behind without so much as
a glance. Come to think of it, it’s hard to pick up through the smell of blood that fills his
lungs, but…
Where is…?
“...aken…”
Ryuu blinks at his sister, slowly realising that other then her blood and the faint smell of
smoke coming from around the house—
“Chuu… ya… was…”
—there are no other fresh scents lingering around.

“...taken.”
Dazai can feel him on the other side, he can feel the pull from Chuuya’s soul searching out
for him, but… He can’t reach it. He can’t get there, not quite. Something is blocking his way,
obstructing the last step to where he needs to be.
Instead of his human, what Dazai sees around him when his flames give way is… all white.
Thicker than a mist but not as obstructing as a fog, and it’s everywhere, stretching as far as
the kitsune can see.
It doesn’t hurt his skin, it doesn’t suffocate him. The droplets suspended in the air settle
delicately on his body, clothes and fur, cooling it but not causing any harm… But it is in the
way. Dazai can’t see past it, can’t hear anything coming from any direction. It’s blocking out
everything, muffling his senses—
So it has to go.
Letting his flames loose in every direction, the kitsune focuses on breaking the spell cast on
the air around him. If he can’t burn it to ash, he'll blow it away. If he can’t blow it away, he’ll
tear every inch of this dimension into pieces until he finds Chuuya. There’s only so far his
flames can reach, only so much they can swallow, but nothing will stop him until he finds it.
Until he finds Chuuya. The gate.
Until—
Dazai’s head spans to the side when he feels something else standing in the way of his
flames, and it’s only coming from one direction. Blue fire claws rip the white mist from his
path as the kitsune walks to where the entrance to Shibusawa’s world awaits and once he
finally sees it – it’s closed off.
A barrier, a wall of water stretching further and higher than the eye can see. Seemingly still,
without a single ripple on its calm surface, but there’s nothing coming from the other side, no
image of what the waters hide, only the vast blue. It looks like it could swallow Dazai with
the smallest of touches, like it would be so easy to cross into it and let the water carry him to
where he must go.
…but it couldn’t be more deceiving.
As the kitsune’s hand presses into the still surface, small waves stray from his fingers but it
doesn’t let him break past it. The more Dazai pushes, the stronger the waves and ripples that
form around his hand are as the water stirs around his fingers, but it’s never enough. Every
hit to the barrier only leaves his fists and tails bruised, water splashing onto his clothes and
the similarly still water surface under the fox’s feet.
Baring his fangs on a loud growl, Dazai steps away from the wall of water, frustration
dancing with determination inside his heart, while his mind grows more and more clouded
with fury.
Next, it’s not his tails that attack – it’s claws, it’s strength that comes with his fox form as
Dazai releases the chains of his power and leaps forward—
Only to fall to the ground again, having accomplished nothing.
Again and again and again and again—
Every time, the same happens.
Every time, the water’s surface stirs and teases Dazai with hope before stilling again right
before his eyes. His tries are useless, his fire is useless, and doing this only wastes his time
while Chuuya is in danger, facing the dragon all by himself.
Breathing heavily as a mixture of burning frustration and forcing his body to fight while
being injured makes it difficult to hold onto the air in his lungs, Dazai stands in front of the
water, in his usual appearance again.
He can see his reflection: the red eye, dark hair sticking to his skin, the bloodied fur. A
laughable image if you ask him, desperate and defeated for the first time in many centuries.
None of his attacks did anything, his strength wasn't enough to break the spell protecting the
dragon’s lair. There’s no visible gate to it, either; the barrier’s surface remains equally still
everywhere the sight reaches.
…maybe he can unveil it?
If he focuses on the spell’s underlying structure and not on forcing his way through, maybe
he will find a lock, a way in.
It’s never an easy task to understand the flows of someone else’s spells, especially someone
like Shibusawa, but Dazai must at least try. Which means he needs to calm down and focus,
because how can he try to unravel the dragon’s thoughts without having a grasp of his own
emotions?
It’s not his rage that should guide him, but his feelings for Chuuya.
Not the bloodlust, but the urge to protect his human.
Once more, Dazai’s palm rests on the water’s surface, but this time it doesn’t try to break it—
The kitsune is trying to feel it under his palm. Understand the currents of energy flowing
through it, see where the locks are and where the weak points twist the structure into messy
knots. He only needs one chance, one right move to connect the entrance to the exit. It’s a
maze, endless paths leading nowhere, well guarded secrets disappearing before Dazai can pin
them down. Then, just as the fox thinks he can finally see it, see the chance, he’s…
Wrong?
Dazai frowns, focusing even more on the paths and turns he’s been following.
It’s gone? No, that’s not it.
It… changed itself? Without a reason?
The kitsune hasn’t done anything yet, it’s impossible for the spell to try to repel him on its
own before he even tries to interfere with its structure, so why—
Again. Another path that is cut short suddenly.
Again. Another knot that smoothes out before twisting into a more complicated one.
Tearing his hand away from the water, Dazai feels frustration take over him again, growing
even stronger than regret. He can’t undo this, he can’t open the gate, or even see where to try
to make a cut because--
This is a madman’s spell.
Simple, but sophisticated.
Shallow, but deep.
It’s everything at once, changing at its very core as it so pleases.
The fox has seen thousands of different spells throughout his life, unravelled countless of
them, no matter how complicated, but this is different. It wasn’t made with impeccable
precision to keep everyone out, it wasn’t designed to be a labyrinth with only a single path
leading to the other side and every other ending with doom – it’s like the caster himself didn’t
know what to do, changing every part over and over again until there is no trace of the
original basis left behind.
It’s impossible to cross without knowing how to, without being shown where to go and which
turns to take, and Dazai doesn’t know that—
“It won’t stop me, Shibusawa.” A low growl rips from his chest, knowing the dragon can
hear him even from here. “You can’t stop me.”
—but he knows who does.
Whatever happens now shouldn’t be of his concern, it shouldn’t matter. He has already done
his part, and yet—
Yet, Fyodor can’t help but feel uneasy.
Nikolai has made a full recovery in the past few weeks, except for the eyesight in his right
eye, which is lost forever. He’s back to his usual, chaotic and playful self, as if the injury
meant nothing to him, while Sigma… The boy must feel conflicted, even if he tries to hide it
and does it worryingly well.
At first, it was difficult to tell what has taken a greater toll on him – betraying the friend he
made, the wolves’ chase after him and Nikolai, Fyodor and the cat’s injuries, or having to
move to a new house, in a different part of the forest to where the three of them used to live
before all of this happened.
All of it must have piled up in his mind, sticking to his side as a shadow born of guilt. But
he’s doing better now, smiling the way he used to whenever Nikolai catches him to join his
games. The faraway look in his eyes hasn’t gone away completely, but it doesn’t show itself
as often anymore, and it never lingers whenever one of them is with the boy.
For Fyodor, it’s a relief.
After that incident, the kitsune has come to regret ever involving Sigma in his plan – he knew
it would be hard on the human, that it would put him at risk both physically and mentally. He
shouldn’t have asked him for help, it would have saved Sigma so much worry, so much regret
and guilt that taints his heart.
But it has already happened, and there is no changing the past now.
What Fyodor can do, hoping it isn’t too late, is to never put him through it again. To make
sure to guard his smile for as long as he can and is allowed to, until the day the human comes
to hate him, should that happen. However, no matter how much the kitsune tries to focus on
making things right again, his mind always comes back to them—
To the wolves that may be in danger right now.
To the young human vessel, to Dazai.
To Shibusawa.
It doesn’t concern him anymore, it’s not his battle to fight, not his nightmare to live through
all over again—
And, yet, Fyodor still finds himself worrying.
The black dragon mark around his wrist, the weak waves of energy pulsing through it and the
gaps between them that get longer with every passing day… he can’t bring himself to ignore
it. He never has, not really. No matter how many decades, or centuries, pass and no matter
how faint the feeling is—
It’s always there.

Always reminding Fyodor that Shibusawa isn’t dead, that he’s alive and that even if he’s not
exactly well, he isn’t gone. And thinking about it is never as easy as the fox would like it to
be. It has always come with conflicted thoughts raging war on each other in his mind, two
sides of himself ripping his heart in half while the kitsune lets it happen, unable to pick which
one he prefers surrounding to.
But lately, it’s been getting worse, because Fyodor knows what Shibusawa is trying to do and
he knows Dazai won’t let it happen so easily, and whenever Mori’s kitsune is involved, it’s
bad. On a good day, that is.
When Mori’s kitsune is involved because his husband is in danger… There are so many
options, so many possibilities. And Fyodor, torn between choices that have been clawing at
his heart for ages, doesn’t know which outcome he would prefer. He doesn’t know which one
would feel better and which would bring him peace.
He worries about Shibusawa, about Tetchou and the others, and what Dazai may do to them.
He worries about how Sigma will feel, should the human vessel die at the dragon’s hand.
It’s not his place to wish for anything, he doesn’t have that right anymore, and even if he did
– he wouldn’t know how. Because after all this time, after all the hope and guilt and pain he’s
lived with for centuries—
Fyodor is simply tired.
Every storm he knew how to face, he had already overcome, conquered every challenge until
he couldn’t stand it anymore. Until it killed to witness any of that anymore. He will accept
whatever plan Fate has planned for him and he can feel it’s all going to be over soon, one
way or another.
…but what he doesn’t realise is that he has grown too tired.
Too distracted.
And when you aren’t looking out only for yourself, but also for the people you care about, a
single moment of distraction can bear fatal consequences—
Like right now.
Too focused on the weird sensation pulsing through the dark dragon mark, Fyodor doesn’t
notice the well–masked breach in the barrier he has put up around the area, not until the new
presence gets closer, not until it’s too late—
(Ironic, isn’t it?)
One second, Fyodor’s eyes are blown wide, his fur puffed up and ears shooting up as a cold
shiver runs down his spine.
(How long two seconds can be.)

The next second, he’s standing in another room, faced with the one thing he has sworn to
never let happen—
“Do not try anything, Dostoevsky.”
—Sigma, with Dazai’s fingers around his neck, struggling to take a single breath. His hands
are holding the kitsune's extended arm, desperately trying to loosen the grip around his throat.
But no matter the useless attempts, or pained gasps, or tears pooling in Sigma’s eyes as he
glances at Fyodor – Dazai doesn’t let him go. He doesn’t make it even the tiniest bit easier for
him, because he doesn’t care.
“Or I will crush his throat.”
Because in his mind, in his rage, the human doesn’t deserve his mercy, and Dazai has never
been the forgiving type, not once in his entire life.
His tails hold the bakeneko hostage, wrapped around his limbs, tail and mouth, while his left
hand keeps Sigma by the neck just above the floor, keeping any support the boy may seek
away from him.
“Both of their throats.”
His eye may burn with fury, but his words are ice cold, keeping Fyodor frozen in place like a
sword pressed to his own neck. The only difference is—
If it was just about him, Fyodor wouldn’t mind.
But it’s not his own life handing on a single thread, it’s Nikolai and Sigma’s. If Dazai is here,
it means Shibusawa has already made a move and succeeded, at least for now, and if that’s
the case… there is nothing holding the white kitsune back from falling into old habits.
“Daz—”
“I said do not, Dostoevsky.” Dazai’s fingers squeeze Sigma’s throat even more, and the boy’s
face twists with pain as tears stream down his cheeks. “I don’t have time for your begging,
nor do I care for it.”
His tails move so that Nikolai’s body, suspended in air by them, is more visible, and they
twist his arms, drawing a muffled hiss from the cat as pain shoots through his body.
“I only need answers from you. Understood?”
There isn’t anything he can do to help them. If Fyodor so much as flinches, Dazai will snap
their necks, or rip off their limbs, he can see it in the other’s eye. It’s blinded by anger, dark
with the same shadows that used to live inside of it so long ago, giving Fyodor only one
option:
Obey.
And pray it’ll be enough.

To whom he can pray, though, the fox isn’t sure.
Satisfied with the silence he gets as an answer, or maybe too impatient to test the other
kitsune’s boundaries, Dazai’s voice rings like a cold threat piercing through the air.
“Shibusawa’s barrier. How do I go past the spell?”
Once again, a cold shiver runs down Fyodor’s spine and his heart sinks. He has to save
Sigma, has to help Nikolai, but—
“I…I don’t know.”
—but what if he can’t?
“Wrong answer.”
Just as Dazai says it, his tails twist the bakeneko’s body even more, a muffled scream
accompanying Sigma’s strangled silence. The boy’s fingers tighten around the white fox’s
arm and his legs kick the air frantically as the fingers around his neck squeeze again.
“Try again.”
“Dazai, please liste—” Another scream from Nikolai makes Fyodor’s words die in his throat,
his fangs digging into the inside of his cheek painfully.
“I said I don’t need your begging. Answer the question.”
Greeting his teeth and with his hands clenched into trembling fists, Fyodor meets Dazai’s
gaze, feeling the bloodlust behind it and a similar image of it mirrored in his own. “I don’t
know—”
He can see his patience running thin, but before the other kitsune can threaten any of them
again – or worse, go through with his promise – he quickly adds…
“I left centuries ago! It’s not the same as it was back then!”
Back then, it was an elaborate spell made by the greatest dragon alive, and now… It’s a
madman’s spell. Dazai must know it, he wouldn’t be here otherwise.
…but does he care?
Tilting his head to the side, Dazai’s lips stretch into a grin – a wicked face of a demon who
takes pleasure in other people’s misery, in bringing pain and leaving behind a trail of blood
and tears.
“Do your pets’ lives mean nothing to you?” A face of a demon starving for revenge.
“Because if you can’t give me what I need, I don’t see why I should give you what you
want.”
Then, the grin is gone once more, replaced by the blood–freezing mask of promised death.
“Last chance.”
‘Or they both die here and now’, hangs unspoken in the air.
It’s like a sentence over Fyodor’s life, a punishment for every mistake he has ever made
coming back to haunt him after he thought he could leave it behind. It feels like he’s
betraying his past, betraying those who trust him, but—
“I don’t know…”
—if this is the only chance, he has to do it.
“...but there is someone else who does. Someone who left after me and is familiar with the
spell as it is now.”
Dazai’s stare is unwavering, not showing any signs of whether it’s enough, or whether he
believes Fyodor’s words or not. His body doesn’t move, never letting go of his hostages.
Before he says anything else to the other kitsune, Dazai looks at Sigma, his eye ablaze with
the intent the fox holds back by a single thread.
“I have every right to kill you.” It’s cold and full of hatred. “You deserve it.”
And Dazai would love to feel Sigma’s bone crushing under his fingers as his face grows pale
and life leaves his eyes. He would love to see all of them fall to the ground, bloodied and…
Then, his gaze comes back to Fyodor, bright with crimson ferocity as one of his free tails
stretches to him, the tip pressing right under his jaw until a trail of blood flows down
Fyodor’s neck.
“Who?”
//...I wouldn’t want you to kill him.//
As the blue flames fade away in a violent outburst, Fyodor leaps forward, catching Sigma
before the boy falls to the ground and slowly helping him sit down. He glances at Nikolai
briefly, searching for any visible injuries, but the cat doesn’t seem to be thinking about
himself right now. Only the way he presses his right arm to his side with his left hand and the
small twist of pain on his lips give away that he’s hurt, because as soon as he’s free, his gaze
searches for Sigma.
Dazai may have hurt him, but Nikolai is a demon. Not only is he used to it, he also knows
how to withstand the pain well, and he doesn’t fear it. The human, on the other side…
Gasping for air, Sigma coughs violently as he’s trying to catch his breath. Stray tears trail
down his cheeks, hands covering the bruised neck. He’s shivering all over, scared. And when
he looks up at the kitsune and the bakeneko, taking deep and raspy breaths, his lips are
trembling.
“I—” His face twists in discomfort right away, a new tear falling from the grey eyes.
“Don’t talk.” Fyodor shusses him, stroking Sigma’s hair as he tries to keep himself calm.
His tails move to help Nikolai sit down next to the boy, and the cat immediately wraps his
arms around Sigma, pulling him in tightly while careful about his neck. Niklai’s face, it’s the
image of insanity. Of rage and fear mixing into one.
And Fyodor knows he’ll have to keep an eye on him at least for a while, making sure he
doesn’t go after Dazai and get himself killed in an unimaginably painful way. The sole fact
that they’re both alive after what has just happened is nothing short of a miracle, a warning
not to tempt Fate any further.
Sigma’s hands grip at Nikolai’s clothes, his fingers trembling, but the boy glances at Fyodor,
searching for the kitsune's eyes—
‘Your friend’, he mouths without making a sound, ‘I’m sorry.’
“Don’t worry about him.” Whether Fyodor tries to reassure Sigma or himself, he isn’t sure.
“Dazai won’t be able to hurt him, even when he gets to him.”
Or so he hopes.
Because he can’t be sure, not really. Fyodor has never met Mori, he knows of him only from
Shibusawa’s old stories and rumours he’s heard around, but—
Gods are supposed to protect their servants, aren’t they?
Dazai said he would be back with Chuuya, that he would bring the redhead back before it’s
too late – instead, he faces the dark torii gate alone. But this time, Hirotsu isn’t waiting for
him there, no one is expecting him and Dazai isn’t going to wait for the welcome party to
arrive.
He crosses the gate without a second thought, silencing the enthusiastic laughter that rings
through the air with a single growl. He’s always been patient with Yumeno, but he is not in
the mood for their games right now and should the spirit make one wrong move, the kitsune
won’t hesitate to erase their presence from here. Permanently.
It doesn’t take long for everyone to notice his presence, he makes no effort to hide it. Before
the fox even reaches the gate of the palace, Hitorsu appears by his side.
“Daza—”
The kitsune stops and turns to the other demon, his eye shining brighter than the two moons
in the dark sky, and his voice colder than any of the nights. “Is he in his chambers?”
Surprised, Hirotsu blinks at him. “Mori–sama? He is, but—”
And that’s all Dazai needs. The barrier only keeps him from entering the palace grounds
uninvited – once he’s in, his flames can take him anywhere, permissions be damned.
Hirotsu’s face disappears from Dazai’s sight before the man can finish, replaced by…
“Dazai–kun?”
Slightly confused, but not alarmed just yet, Mori looks up from the scroll he’s been reading.
He watches as the kitsune steps closer, the small fires floating around the room blown away
as he passes them.
When it’s only the wide table separating them, Dazai stops, looking down at the god sitting in
front of him with barely suppressed fury resonating through his every word.
“Tachihara Michizou. Where is he?”
When the name falls from Dazai’s lips, Mori’s expression changes from surprise to a
somewhat remorseful realisation.
“So it was the dragon, after all.”
The kitsune doesn’t move, but his eye flashes with dark intent and his voice lowers
dangerously. “You knew?”
“I knew he was alive, yes.” Standing up from the table with a deep sigh, Mori meets Dazai’s
gaze. “But no, I didn’t know he was responsible for this.”
His words make the fox growl on the inside, and it takes everything in him not to move, not
to show how much he wants to strangle Mori right now, blinded by rage. He knows he can’t.
He knows fighting gods is pointless but, oh, does he want to—
“The wolf.” He grits his teeths instead, narrowing his eye at the other man. “Where is he?”
Arguing with Mori won’t help him, it won’t help Chuuya. Dazai’s best chance at helping his
human right now is to get information out of this Tachihara, but to do that he needs to find
him first, and he doesn’t even know him. He doesn’t know his looks, or his scent. He’s a
wolf, but there are many of those under Mori’s command scattered around the palace and all
the different dimensions.
The god doesn’t answer right away, only staring at the fox and making him want to scream,
because they don’t have time for this—
“I can take you to him.” He says eventually, walking around the table until there’s nothing
separating him and the fox. “But only if you behave.”
“Behave?” Dazai turns his head towards the god, involuntarily baring his fangs with every
word. “Chuuya was taken, and you want me to behave?”
It’s enough that the kitsune isn’t tearing this place apart just to find one demon, Mori should
be grateful for that fact alone, not make demands.
“I understand you’re upset.”
Upset? He’s out for blood—
“And I worry about the boy, too. I really do.” There’s sincerity in Mori’s voice, a hint of
sadness woven into the levelled tone. “But Tachihara–kun has been my subject for decades. I
have a duty to protect those who serve me, Dazai–kun.” As every respectful god out there, no
matter how cruel or forgiving. “You do understand that, don’t you?”
He does, normally – but right now Dazai is far from being in the mood for understanding and
politeness. Kindness doesn’t get him anywhere, being patient only gives his enemies more
time to hurt Chuuya and having this conversation with Mori is bringing him nothing.
Fyodor must have known this would happen, that’s why he gave the name to Dazai so easily.
He did it knowing Tachihara would not get hurt no matter what he does or doesn’t say—
“I won’t kill him.” The kitsune hisses, however displeased. That’s the only promise Dazai
knows he can uphold – that is, of course, only if Tachihara cooperates.
Sparing Fyodor’s pets’ lives was much more of a challenge for him than it would be with a
stranger, but his patience has been wearing thin in the last couple of minutes. If the wolf tries
to act tough, if he tries to deceive him…
Well, it’s better for everyone that he doesn’t try any of that.
“...very well.”
Mori reaches out with his arm and rests his hand on Dazai’s shoulder – then, everything
around them vanishes. With a single blink of an eye, the god’s chambers are gone, now only
the vast space of training grounds stretching around them.
Dazai knows these grounds, he spent many years around here and not much has changed
since then. It’s the same chill air, the same dark ground and the same noises of pretend–fights
reaching his ears—
“Tachihara–kun.”
—but all those sounds are coming from afar, and there is only one other person here with
them.
“You have a… guest.”
A pair of balck ears turns towards them as the young man looks over his shoulder at the
sound of Mori’s voice, his tail halting low over the ground. His black fur fades into dark red
at the tips of his ears and tails, the same colour as his hair. His robes are tied around his hips
with a dark green belt, his upper half naked. There’s a wooden target not too far from where
they’re standing, with at least a dozen knives embedded into it.
The man is about to say something, his lips already parted, but when the amber eyes see who
the other person next to Mori is… Tachihara freezes.
They may not have met at any point, but the wolf knows the stories – everyone knows them,
especially around here. For Dazai, it may be a good sign, a sign that Tachihara won’t be
stupid and will tell him everything he asks for, honest and quick.
For the sake of all of them.
“I–I don’t—”
“Shibusawa.” At the sound of that name, Tachihara’s eyes widen and Dazai can hear how the
wolf’s heart starts to race frantically in his chest. “He has taken something from me.” The fox
continues, stepping closer to the other. “And I want it back.”
Tachihara swallows dryly, his body instinctively taking a step back and away from the fox.
“And you are going to tell me how to cross the barrier. Now.”
“I…” The boy looks from Dazai to Mori and to Dazai again, visibly fighting with himself. “I
don’t kn—”
“You do.” The fox cuts him off, his eye an endless swirl of dark blood.
It’s not the same as with Fyodor, Dazai can tell the wolf is lying, he can sense it in every
involuntary gesture and every hesitant breath. He stops two steps away from the other,
pinning the wolf in place with his glare alone the same way he used to do with his victims in
the past.
None of them survived.
If the boy is smart enough, he won’t try to share their fate.
“Do not make me repeat myself, Tachihara Michizou.”
He can see the wolf’s hands clenched into fists, trembling at his sides, his ears are clearly
struggling to stay up and not flatten on top of red hair. It takes everything in Tachihara not to
run, not to break under the kitsune’s gaze—
“...I can’t.” It’s barely a whisper, a stubborn plea of a man hanging at the last straw. “They’re
my friends, I… I can’t help you kill them.”
A fool.
Brave? Maybe. But still a fool, desperately believing that struggling will help him, even
though the end will always be the same. Because when Dazai Osamu wants information, he
gets it.
One way or another.
Mori’s gaze on his back is the only thing keeping Dazai’s tails away from Tachihara’s neck,
his claws from piercing the boy’s skin. It’s an inconvenience to be held back, but the kitsune
has many ways to get what he wants.
He can’t hurt Mori’s servant, the god would stop him before he could leave even a single
scratch, but—
But Dazai’s speciality has always been his mind.
Violence? It’s merely entertainment for when his old side is bored, a way to pass time.
Playing with his victims’ mind, on the other hand? There aren’t many that can withstand it,
let alone fight it when the kitsune sets his eyes on them.
Tilting his head to the side, Dazai lowers his voice into a low hum, much too amused for the
wrath burning in his chest. “Is that so?”
Tachihara holds his gaze, likely out of fear of being devoured the moment he looks away
rather than out of courage.
“Because I will find a way, with or without your help, and once I do, I will skin your friends
alive before killing them.”
Mori is silent behind him, but he won’t stay that way for long if Dazai crosses a line. The fox
takes another step closer, and Tachihara’s lips press into a thin line, his claws crawling blood
from his palms.
“However, I’m willing to offer you a deal. Your last chance.”
It’s not ideal, Dazai wished he wouldn’t have to use this, especially not in Mori’s presence –
because promises made with a god present must be fulfilled – but if it makes things move
faster, he’ll do it.
…besides, promises are bound to have loopholes in them, don’t they?
Fragile, broken more easily than glass.

“Tell me what I want to know, and your wolf friends will live.” But not Shibusawa. The
dragon dies, no matter what it takes. “Or continue to play a hero, and I’ll send you their skins
as a souvenir.”
For a second, Tachihara hesitates. His fangs dig into his lip and the storm of conflicting
emotions rages inside his heart as he feels the fingers of Dazai’s sick tricks wrap around his
throat.
It’s not a choice he’s been given, it’s a sentence. A punishment with no way out, his friends’
lives against the life of a person who once saved them.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Tachihara inhales deeply – the last breath he takes without guilt
suffocating him for the rest of his life.
“I—”
“I hope your plan doesn’t involve you facing Shibusawa alone, Dazai–kun.” Mori’s voice
rings from behind him the moment Tachihara disappears from before them. This time, his
worry isn’t as well concealed as before, painting his tone almost unnaturally warm.
It doesn’t suit Mori.
Yet, it feels strangely familiar. Strangely… fitting.
But there’s no point in dwelling over it, so the fox lets that thought fade away before he can
really hang onto it.
Looking over his shoulder to meet the god’s gaze, Dazai doesn’t answer, only staring at him
with intent ferocity. “I will do whatever I have to.”
“You can’t win against him alone.” There’s a shadow of pain in Mori’s eyes. “He may have
fallen from his grace, but he was a god once—”
Mori’s words are a reminder of older times, older wounds.
Of how helpless one can feel when faced with Fate’s cruelty.
“—he lost his mind, not his strength.”
And, oh, Dazai knows, the wounds scattered around his body and his broken bones
reminding him of it with every move he makes. Even when he had Chuuya in his grasp,
Dazai couldn’t do anything. Even when the dragon left his domain and stepped into Dazai’s,
the kitsune lost to him, not having left a single scratch on Shibusawa’s body.
So, yes, Dazai knows he’s no match for the fallen god.
It’s simply not enough to stop him anymore.
Chapter End Notes
Cruel demon Kitsunezai will always be my favourite to write >:3
But it's a struggle when I know Dazai wants to go berserk and just kill everyone BUT I
GOT ATTACHED TO MY CHARACTERS T_T
Anyway, it's Chuuya time next~

Quiet
Chapter Notes
Water.
Blurring his vision. Flooding his lungs.
It’s everywhere and Chuuya can't breathe.
No matter how much he struggles, or how much he fights to keep the air inside, none of it
helps. For what feels like forever, Chuuya can only think about the burning in his lungs,
about how cold the water is and how his consciousness is slowly slipping away, his vision
growing darker and darker…
“Ah.” The voice sounds as if it’s coming from afar, from behind a wall, muffled by water and
the ringing in Chuuya’s ears. “I’m sorry.”
The moment the hand covering his mouth lets go and the arm keeping the redhead up
disappears, Chuuya falls down to his knees, coughing up water violently and desperate for a
single breath of air.
“It doesn’t always listen to me anymore.”
It’s only now that he realises they aren’t underwater anymore, but somewhere else. He’s
drenched, shivering as droplets fall from his hair and clothes to the cold ground, creating
small ripples on its surface. It looks like the surface of a lake, crystal clear and still, but it
doesn’t swallow Chuuya when the boy falls on it – it only causes weak waves to form from
where he’s touching it, nothing else.
But the redhead doesn’t get to think too much of it, not when he can barely see it. Every
cough frees his lungs from blood–tainted water, but taking a single breath is like a fight he
isn’t sure he can win. Over and over again for what feels like hours passing by, Chuuya
desperately grasps at any air he can get, ignoring the pain in his throat for the sake of getting
the water out of his lungs. He only vaguely remembers his situation, or what happened mere
seconds ago with Dazai and Shibusawa and…
Supporting himself on one hand and with the other holding on to his throat, Chuuya looks to
the side, to where he knows someone was standing before, holding him up and—
He’s there.
Much closer than Chuuya expected.
The stranger is kneeling down on one knee, leisurely propping his chin on one palm as he
tilts his head slightly to the side. There are loose strands falling down his face and over the
piercing red eyes staring right at Chuuya. He looks curious, vaguely worried – but that has
got to be Chuuya’s imagination, right? – and once he speaks, it’s nothing like the cold tone he
used before with Dazai.
It’s weirdly gentle and quiet now, as if he’s talking to a wild animal, trying not to scare it
away. “Are you okay now?”
Is— what?
There’s nothing in Shibusawa’s eyes that would tell Chuuya the dragon is playing with him,
nothing that would indicate this is a joke. There’s nothing in his face that would point to a
trick hidden behind those words but—
It has to be a trick, or a joke, or a mocking act. Right?
Shibusawa kidnapped him from Chuuya’s own house and then almost had him drown while
at it, and now he’s asking him if he’s fine?
…is this person out of his mind?
And what is Chuuya supposed to say to that?
He has no idea where he is, or what’s waiting for him, no idea what to think – he only knows
that the dragon is the one who needs him dead, and that Dazai was hurt the last time the boy
saw him. Badly. Chuuya has never seen Dazai bleed that much, or simply struggle to stand on
his own, and it was all from a single blow from Shibusawa. Even if the dragon said he would
heal… What if he doesn’t?
What if he’s in pain now?
And what in the world is Chuuya supposed to do now that he’s faced with the man all by
himself?
But Shibusawa doesn’t seem to understand Chuuya’s silence, or his distraught and confused
expression, for what it is. Instead…
“Ah.” He draws out, his gaze falling to the boy’s soaked clothes. “You must be cold. Let
me…” Still unable to move, Chuuya realises a moment too late what Shibusawa is doing, a
second too late to move away from the long claw lightly tapping his forehead.
“Don’t touch me—!” He only jerks away after it has already happened, and… it doesn’t hurt,
not more than it did before anyway. Instead of the claw piercing his skin and bones, its touch
disappears not even a second after leaving Chuuya… huh?
His clothes are… dry?
So is his hair?
And skin?
Deaf to Chuuya’s words and blind to how wrong the situation is, Shibusawa doesn’t seem to
mind – or even notice, for that matter – how the redhead jerked away from him before.
“Is that better?” The dragon asks, smiling weakly at the boy. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a
cold because of my waters.”
…is that a trap?
It must be, there has to be something Chuuya isn’t seeing just yet. Shibusawa’s voice and
general demeanour, even his expression – it’s all too different to how he was before, abc in
their garden. It doesn’t freeze the blood in the redhead’ veins the way it did back in their
garden, it doesn’t sound threatening, or even uncaring, like it did before.
But why? What changed?
What the hell is he trying to gain from acting all nice now, after all of Chuuya’s suffering and
pain for the past few weeks was Shibusawa’s fault all along?
“...catch a cold?” His throat hurts, but it doesn’t stop Chuuya from hissing out the venomous
words, unable to hold them back anymore. “‘Catch a cold’ because of you? You
KIDNAPPED ME!”
And Shibusawa has the audacity to look surprised at his words, genuinely shocked for a
second. His smile falters as he blinks, slowly thinking about Chuuya’s words as if the last
five minutes didn’t happen at all. As if he was here to help him. Then, the red light in his eyes
dims slightly as he parts his lips and…
“Ah… I did, didn’t I?” He offers Chuuya a smile, an apologetic one, and it makes even less
sense now. “My bad.”
…he’s insane.
Absolutely, undoubtedly insane. Crazy and—
And Chuuya has no idea what to think, or how to feel. There’s barely anything other than the
overwhelming confusion and frustration mixing in his gut and stealing away his ability to
speak, or form coherent thoughts.
Somewhere in his mind, the redhead knows he should be scared – he was scared when
Shibusawa first caught him and when he saw Dazai being thrown across their garden. He has
feared this day even since Fyodor told him there was someone else behind all of this.
But right now, Chuuya is only furious.
There isn’t a single hint of threat coming from the dragon, there’s nothing of the previous
authority left, as if the person who captured him in the garden was a different one from this
one. But it doesn’t change the fact that Chuuya is pissed. Both he and the thing clawing at his
heart from the inside.
“Why the fuck do you care about a cold when your plan is to KILL ME?!”
Shouting at a literal dragon who proved to be easily capable of overpowering Dazai may not
be the wisest choice in Chuuya’s life, but he doesn’t care about it. Not when the words escape
his throat on their own. And there are many reactions Chuuya could expect from the dragon –
anger, displeasure, annoyance – but what he receives for his outburst is not any of that.
Letting Chuuya’s raised voice ring into the vast space around them, Shibusawa only shrugs,
tugging a long white strand behind one ear. “Old habits.”
Old ha—
What in the world?
Still trying to make any sense of his words, the redhead watches him stand up, blue eyes
puzzled and full of disbelief at how unfazed the dragon seems, how at peace. He looks up and
sees a hand offered to him, Shibusawa’s smiling face behind it.
“Let me help you up?”
…what the fuck is going on?
“You—”
Driven by the growing anger, Chuuya slaps the hand away. A faint sting of pain shoots
through his arm from where Dazai’s claws scratched him previously, but it’s nothing
compared to the pain of feeling this helpless in a place he doesn’t know, with a man who
seeks to kill him in ways Chuuya doesn’t even want to imagine. He’s confused and alone and
Arahabaki’s hatred keeping clouding his mind with defiance—
“What is wrong with—HEY!”
Without a warning, a long and cold tail wraps around Chuuya’s arms and middle, stone–hard
scales pressed to his body as he’s being lifted off the ground and into the air. His feet hang
about the ground and his face is at the same level as Shibusawa’s, though not too close.
“Is that better?” The dragon asks all too innocently. “Not too tight?”
“PUT ME DOWN!”
Shibusawa’s brows furrow, the scales around his eyes shining with reflected light when he
tilts his head slightly. “But you’re shivering, you can’t be walking like that.”
“I SAID—”
“Ah, don’t worry, my scales won’t hurt you.”
Dismissing Chuuya’s demands and dumbfounded expression, Shibusawa turns around as he

leads them further into… wherever they are.
There’s water everywhere, even under their feet, and a thick mist covering the area, making it
impossible to see anything far away. Gazers, or just random bursts of water, shoot around
them every now and then, and Chuuya thinks he sees silhouettes of stone–based constructions
scattered around the area. Of rocks laying around and tall columns, of some sort of ruins…
“You must be in much pain already, from that god’s essence.” Shibusawa continues as if
simply making small talk, daring to sound considerate and faintly worried. “I won’t strain
your body any more than it already is.”
…and whose fault is it in the first place that he’s in pain?!
As Chuuya watches the long, messy braid falling down Shibusawa’s back, he can’t help but
feel lost. The dragon's politeness doesn’t ring the same as that cat’s, or Fyodor’s – those were
painted with mockery, with teasing. They felt like an act, even if there was an underlying
truth to them, however small..
This, though?
This is concerning in its sincerity.
The hints of ill–intent, of mockery that Chuuya seeks in Shibusawa’s words to make this feel
less confusing – they aren’t there. They weren’t in the dragon’s eyes when he watched
Chuuya cough up blood, or in the carefully offered hand. Not a single drop of satisfaction can
be felt in any of the dragon’s smiles, not a single threat behind any of his movements ever
since they got here. It almost as if his concern was pure, honest, and it makes Chuuya feel out
of place, wrong in all possible ways because—
“...what is wrong with you?”
—Shibusawa’s plan is to kill him and, yet, there’s no sense of danger in anything the dragon
does.
Or there hasn't been until now.
Because the moment these words slip from Chuuya’s lips, Shibusawa stops. He doesn’t
speak, his tail doesn’t tighten around the boy, even his hair seems to be frozen in place
when…
“...wrong?” His voice is different, more distant and… empty. “...there’s something wrong
with me?”
(//It’s getting worse. You’re losing your hold—//)
“But there isn’t.”
(//This isn’t you, please—//)

When Shibusawa looks over his shoulder at him, the tremor comes back to Chuuya’s heart.
The dragon’s gaze isn’t threatening, despite how bright red his eyes shine and how thin the
dark slits of his pupils are. His words aren’t meant to cut, to hurt, but his tone is demanding,
twisted—
Sick.
“I’m fine. Everything is perfect. There is nothing wrong. There will be nothing wrong—” His
lips curl into a mad grin, and it doesn’t even feel like he’s looking at Chuuya anymore, but at
something only he can see. Something that isn’t there. “I will make it as it was. Everything
will be alright again. Everything will be as it’s supposed to be. Everyone will be safe—”
(//You don’t have to do this anymore.//)
“Safe. They need to be safe.”
(//I’m sorry but I—//)
“He needs to be safe. What are you talking about?” A low rumble starts to ring beneath
Shibusawa’s voice, the dark slits on his eyes shaking and the scales around his eyes
darkening. “Why would you think something is wrong?”
The sole sight of him makes it impossible to speak, freezing Chuuya’s body in fear to the
point where even a shiver doesn’t dare to shake his body. He can’t look away from the red
orbs, can’t move with the scales of Shibusawa’s tail growing sharper as seconds pass. He
can’t breathe out a single word—
“Why are you even—”
—and then, it all stops.
A second of silence passes.
Then another.
Then…
“Ah, excuse me.” With one blink, the madness is gone, red eyes softening into a more
soothing shade as Shibusawa’s grin melts into a polite smile and the shadows leave his face.
“Did you say something?”
Chuuya is left speechless, still frozen in shock and too confused to utter a single word despite
the dark, threatening aura that felt like a blade pressed to his throat has already disappeared.
It’s… He’s still the same person, right?
Chuuya didn’t imagine all of that?
“Are my scales hurting you after all?” The dragon turns around again, leaving the boy staring
at his back with wide, unblinking eyes as he starts walking again. “Please bear with it for a
while longer, we’re almost there.”
…Shibusawa really is insane, isn’t he?
There is no other explanation for whatever that was.
It may have gone away for now, but the memory is fresh and disturbing. Shibusawa’s wicked
smile, his eyes that were only looking and not seeing anything – it’s burned into Chuuya’s
mind. The tail wrapped around him isn’t hurting him, not yet, but the boy is now painfully
aware of how it could crush his body with the minimal effort if only the dragon wanted to.
Those scales? They’re hard and sharp, even Dazai couldn’t win against them.
If he makes Shibusawa snap again… It may be the last time he does it, Chuuya realises as
cold sweat breaks out on his body.
He can’t be blinded by anger, can’t be fooled by the seemingly kind gestures – Shibusawa is
a threat, sane or not, and provoking him may be the worst possible choice the redhead could
make in this situation.
He wants to fight.
He wants to oppose, to break free—
For once, the foreign hatred taking root in his heart is being overshadowed by dread and
confusion, silenced by his very own fears.
Chuuya knows why he’s here, Shibusawa didn’t deny trying to kill him when the boy
mentioned it – so why hasn’t he, yet?
It’s a relief, it gives the boy time to make sense of this and try to buy some time for Dazai to
get here, but… Why wait? Why bring him here in the first place and then act as if Chuuya is
a guest, not a prisoner?
“...we’re almost where?” The redhead says weakly, forcing his voice out without ever looking
away from the back of Shibusawa’s head.
Where is the dragon taking him?
What for?
And what in the world happened to make Shibusawa… like this?
Because no matter how much Chuuya would like to convince himself there is no reason, that
the dragon’s insanity is a part of who he is – it feels off. The face the redhead saw before, no
matter how briefly and how terrifying it felt, it looked pained.
It looked broken.
“You can think of it as a guest room. Well, it’s more of an… operation room?” Looking over
his shoulder again, Shibusawa smiles somewhat awkwardly. “Somewhere you can lie down.”
That isn’t what Chuuya wanted to hear, but it’s better than nothing, especially since talking
seems to calm the dragon down even more. Although… something about what he said makes
Chuuya’s skin crawl.
“...what for?”
Having Shibusawa’s tail wrapped around him is distressing enough, what does he need to lie
down for?
“To—ah, we’re here.”
It’s hardly a room, more like an open space surrounded by half–fallen walls and columns
lying around. There’s a ‘bed’ in the middle of it, or rather a stone altar with pillows resting on
top of and around it.
How considerate.
How absolutely disturbing and—
“What was I saying again?” For a second, Shibusawa tilts his head as his eyes stare into
Chuuya’s distraught ones. “Ah, what for. Of course.”
The redhead is frantically, and to no avail, trying to free himself as the dragon moves them
closer to the long stone that may end up being Chuuya’s deathbed if he doesn’t do anything
soon.
“I need to take that off of your neck. The spell.” Without any effort, Shibusawa’s tail keeps
Chuuya right above the pillows as the man moves them around until they cover every hard
surface, creating a somewhat comfortable sight – or at least what would be a comfortable
sight in any other circumstances. “Or do you prefer to call it a necklace?”
Oh.
Oh, no.
This is bad.
This is really bad.

If Dazai’s spell is broken, it won’t matter if the kitsune gets here before Shibusawa can
devour, or whatever his plan is, or not – Arahabaki’s presence will finish him off before any
of them can do anything about it. Chuuya can feel it, how the burning part inside of him is
stirring awake, starving for blood and destruction and death.
The moment the tail loosens around his body, the redhead tries to struggle, to free himself
and run, but he can’t. The next second, he’s pressed into the pillows, something cold wrapped
around his wrists and ankles and keeping him still and stretches along the bed. It’s not chains,
at least not made from metal, it’s… water?
“Well, in any case, it’s better to take it off.”
No, it is not—
“I could have done it before, but…”
When a sharp claw slides across his throat, Chuuya is torn between needing to push away
from it and his body freezing at the touch. It doesn’t break his skin, merely making the
itching there worse, but it’s too close to where it can be fatal, feeding the redhead all the
scenarios of bleeding out right here and now. Chuuya’s death is one cut of Shibusawa’s claws
away now and it’s mortifying to even think about it.
“...I wasn’t sure if I could do it without hurting you deeply. So we’ll do it here.”
Again.
He’s doing that again: trying to sound as if he doesn’t want to hurt Chuuya, as if it wasn’t his
plan from the very beginning.
The redhead doesn’t even know how to take Dazai’s spell off, he knows he did it once
unconsciously and, when he thinks back to it, it seemed easy back then, even if apparently it
wasn’t supposed to be like that. Maybe it comes with hurting him physically, maybe not, but
Chuuya can’t bring himself to care about that right now. Because what he does know is that
taking it off means letting Arahabaki’s essence into his soul more and that is something he
would like to avoid.
Not that he knows how to, when he can’t even move his body from where it’s chained to.
Fighting is futile, trying to persuade the dragon to let him go won’t work. He was in this very
same situation before and he remembers the helpless feeling flooding his mind all too well,
which leaves him with the only option left—
“W–what do you mean?”
Which is stalling.
It didn’t work too well with Fyodor back in that cave, but the kitsune’s intelligence is
supposed to be on par with Dazai’s, while Shibusawa… Chuuya can't tell whether he’s smart
or not, but he is crazy, and crazy people are more willing to talk if you play it right.
Or so Chuuya hopes.
“Hm?” The dragon takes his hand away, tilting his head as he looks down at the redhead.
“Which part?”
Thank gods, it worked. For now.
“I… both?”
Now it’s only a matter of making him talk more, while Chuuya makes his soul scream to
Dazai to hurry up. It doesn’t matter what it is, he needs to make Shibusawa talk about
anything just long enough for the fox to get here.
“Ah, well, I need the essence you hold to be more diluted before I can absorb it and that spell
is a problem, you see. Let’s take it off then, shall we—”
“Wait!”
When Shibusawa doesn’t move, blinking at him patiently, Chuuya forges a trembling smile.
“And the other part? You know, my question?”
The redhead himself isn’t sure what he’s asking about, what different parts of it Shibusawa
can see, but it doesn’t matter. So long as it buys him time, he’ll entertain the dragon’s
conversation even if it means pretending he knows what’s going on.
“Ah… yes.”
For a second, the redhead thinks he sees a shadow passing Shibusawa’s face. His red eyes
darken, looking somewhere beyond that which Chuuya can know, and then—
“It doesn’t always listen to me anymore. My power.” Even his scales’ colour seems duller for
a moment, his hair not as silky. “If I’m not careful, or if you move, I could hurt you
unnecessarily. It’s safer here. Like this.”
“...why?”
Shibusawa offers him a grateful smile. “Because you’re staying still.”
Because he’s being forced to stay still, but that’s not what Chuuya meant. “N–no.” He
breathes out when the dragon’s hand threatens to come closer again. “Why do you not want
to hurt me?”
Chuuya isn’t sure if that was the right question to ask, or not, because it makes Shibusawa
fall silent. Confused.
It doesn’t seem like he’s holding back an answer, or like the darkness from before is crawling
back to the surface again. It’s more like he doesn’t know.
Not what to say.
Not why Chuuya would ask that in the first place.

He seems torn, struggling to piece his mind together, and it shows. In the way his lips twitch,
brows furrowing and relaxing over and over again, pupils shaking visibly. Next to his arm,
Chuuya can feel Shibusawa’s hand beginning to tremble and the boy is sure he’s about to
witness another outburst of madness—
But it doesn’t come.
Not this time.
Instead, the shaking of his eyes and trembling of his body stops as light comes back to the
dragon’s face. His gaze softens, nostalgia and melancholy painting it a distant shade of pain
and sorrow so deep and so… honest.
Not driven by madness, it’s but a memory of an old truth.
“I care about humans.” His voice is gentle. Quiet. “All gods do. We never wish to hurt them.”
But that’s… not right.
It leaves Chuuya with blown eyes and slightly parted lips. Fyodor said that this thing that was
put inside of him was to—
“You’re…” It comes out weak, careful not to disturb the fragile peace that has settled into
Shibusawa’s expression. “You’re a god?”
//This person of yours needs some extra healing?//
//Yes.//
“...I was.”
//But not in the way you think.//
“Not anymore, though.” The light, the sanity, starts to fade again as Shibusawa meets
Chuuya’s gaze. “I did something, and now it’s so… quiet.”
For some reason, that one word sounds broken, choked out. And Chuuya may not have it in
him to care right now, but it does make him disturbed, somewhere deep.
“...quiet?”
“So, so, so quiet.” Slowly, Shibusawa shakes his head as his voice becomes more distant
again. “They were there, but now they’re not. There’s only silence. Always.”
When a hand settles on his cheek, Chuuya flinches, looking at it from the corner of his eye
warily.
“You understand me, don’t you?”
No, he doesn’t. But he won’t risk saying that out loud when the dragon looks like he’s
holding on to the last thread before falling into the pit of insanity all over again.
“You understand I have to do this, right?”
He isn’t sure if Shibusawa is doing this on purpose or not, but it stings where his claws dig
into Chuuya’s face.
“You understand I have to get it back, right?” He leans closer, madness swirling in two
bloody pools. “You understand I have to protect them. Protect him.”
He wouldn’t mean… would he?
“I have to, dear human. I have to. And I need it back or it won’t listen, or it will continue to
fade, perish, and I—”
Like this, it’s impossible to look away from the two dark slits looking at Chuuya with so
much intensity that it burns his mind to meet them.
“I have to protect my family. At any cost.”
For a second, there’s only silence and Chuuya’s heavy breathing. The redhead doesn’t know
what to say, or even what to think of what he’s just learnt. The dragon only gives him vague
ideas, explanations with holes that birth more questions than answers.
Then, Shibusawa’s hand slides from his cheek to his neck and chest, settling on top of his
heart, and the itching under his skin starts to burn . “I need it back. I need it. This is the only
way. There is no more time. I—”
(//This isn’t you.//)
A whisper. “...I need to find myself again, or he won’t come back.”
Chuuya doesn’t understand, he doesn’t even try to, because he knows that Shibusawa’s ‘any
cost’ isn’t his own – it’s Chuuya’s.
His price to pay. One that he didn’t choose for himself.
And it’s not fair.

“...but it will hurt me.” The boy whispers, trying to feed into the side of Shibusawa that
continues to care for humans no matter what. ”A lot.” It will kill him and there’s no going
back from that. “And you said you don’t want to hurt me, right?”
His fingers twitch, uncertain. “I don’t, but I have to.” His hand slides towards Chuuya’s neck
again and the redhead panics—
“Wait! Wait!” Again, the dragon stops. Patient and unbothered, blind to how it’s merely
Chuuya’s way of putting the inevitable off for a bit longer. “I—I have a family too. It will
hurt them if you hurt me, and I don’t—I can’t—”
For a split second, the redhead thinks it worked, seeing how Shibusawa visibly hesitates.
“Ah, yes. Your husband.”
And uncle Paul, and Adam, and Ryuu, and Gin, and—
“He was here until a while ago.”
Dazai— what?
"But he left."
He... did?
No. He wouldn't have. Not without a reason.
It must be because there was something stopping him and he needs help getting here. He'll be
back, he has to, Chuuya knows he would never abandon—
"Ah, but you're right."
Shibusawa's voice and expression return to what greeted Chuuya before, to the abnormal
calmness that sees reason where there is none. And the redhead doesn't know whether that's a
good, or a bad thing.
(What he will soon realise, though, is that his plan may not have been the best idea to believe
in.)
"...I am?"
There's only so long he can stall for and if Dazai couldn't get here even after finding him...
"To lose someone so dear so soon must be painful." The dragon’s hand settles back over
Chuuya's chest, which isn't ideal, but at least it's not reaching for his throat, for the spell that
keeps the redhead himself, yet.
He doesn't know what made the dragon realise it now, but if there's a chance to use it, Chuuya
isn't going to waste it.
"It—it is."
"Especially when you're already bonded."
"Y–yeah."
And he doesn't even need to act like he means it, because the sole thought of losing Dazai is
beyond painful. More than any of the wounds Arahabaki's essence inflicts on his body, more
than anything the boy can think of – it’s the fear of never seeing Dazai again that makes his
voice tremble with held back sobs.
"I can't lose him." Chuuya whispers, honest and hopeful for the best in the worst situation
possible. "And he can't lose me. It will hurt too much."
Shibusawa stays silent, only tilting his head on the side, and the boy doesn't have another
option but to try again, to push him more.
"And—and you understand, right?"
He's pretty sure the dragon doesn't understand anything, not even himself, but that's not the
point. The point is to make Shibusawa believe and let him go.
"...I do."
Relief comes too soon, too easily. Chuuya should have known better than to trust a madman's
word, to believe the two of them would see the world in the same way.
"Your bond will make your husband suffer for the rest of his lives."
Because the boy's hope and reason are his own—
"But it won't if I break it, right?"
—while Shibusawa lost all of it a long, long time ago. He’s a storm that hides behind still
waters, a hurricane that comes with a gentle breeze.
Chuuya can hear his words, but he can't grasp their meaning, not at first. It's too surreal, too
horrible and frightening of a thought to even consider. It's impossible and everyone knows it.
That's a fact.
"I understand. I'll help you with it."
But Shibusawa doesn't know right from wrong anymore, he doesn't see what's real or not, and
—
"Wha—N—AGH!"
—and once Chuuya finds his voice again, it comes out with a scream.
At first, it's claws digging into his skin that send a wave of sharp needles though his body.
Then it's the feeling of having his right arm burnt away, submerged into liquid fire. Pain,
more vivid and deeper than anything else Chuuya has ever felt, takes over his mind like a
storm, violent and relentless, crashing everything in its way, and then—
Then it really starts.
Being ripped apart in a way that leaves no physical marks, his soul stretches to the limits until
only a thin thread keeps everything together. It’s worse than the injuries Arahabaki inflicts on
him, deeper than any of the invisible scars it left behind.
It's dark, freezing cold, empty—
It's quiet.
The feeling of always having Dazai close no matter what, always having the kitsune as a part
of himself and being able to hear his heart reaching out to him – it's not gone, not yet.
But it's so far.
Dazai feels so far away, so out of Chuuya’s reach.
'No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO—!'
Almost like he isn't there anymore, like Chuuya can't feel him, like he's alone. The part of
him that has been filled with love and care is slowly turning into a desert of pain, of sorrows
and regrets, of hate and loneliness.
'DON'T GO! DON'T GO! DAZAI, YOU CAN'T GO—!'
Every part of Chuuya is on fire.
'STAY! STAY! DON'T LET HIM, PLEASE!'
Everything is freezing.
'DON'T DO THIS!'
He's drowning in fear, desperation replacing the air in his lungs.
'I DON'T WANT THIS!'
He can't see anything past the dark empty inside his soul, past where Dazai's place is
supposed to be but was replaced by hollowness.
'I CAN'T LET YOU GO!'
He can feel it, life slipping through his fingers like water. Impossible to hold onto, fading into
the same abyss that claimed Chuuya's love, leaving him like shattered pieces of a whole. His
body wants to break, his blood wants to explode in his veins, but something is keeping him
together while every part of him is slowly dying on its own.
'I WON'T LET YOU!'

And just as the last thread is about to break—
'DAZAI!'
—it stops.
Everything.
The first breath of air soothes Chuuya's pain, leaving the boy gasping for more as his mind
clears from the violent clouds. His wrists and ankles are strained from struggling, the faint
ache remains in every inch of his body as tears trail down his face.
...Dazai.
Dazai?
What happened?
...no.
Please don't, it's impossible, it's not real!
WHERE IS—
'...Chuuya…'
It's quiet and distant, a ghost of what it once used to be, and Chuuya has to focus every part
of him just to hear it but...
'...It's okay…you're okay…'
But Dazai is still here. With him. Alive. The bond wasn’t broken, it—
"Ah, I’m sorry." Chuuya's head snaps back to the dragon at the sound of Shibusawa's voice,
eyes wide and his breathing erratic with the fear of what he may do to him next. To them. "I
don't think I can help after all. It would kill you both."
…he's realising it now?
When Shibusawa's fingers brush away the strands sticking to Chuuya's forehead, the boy
flinches, desperate to move away from it even if he knows it’s impossible. "And you seem to
be in much pain."
Ridiculous.
Crazy.
Dangerous.
All of that and more hides behind a veil of crimson insanity, looking at Chuuya with the
kindness that is merely a lie Shibusawa's mind chooses to believe. A broken piece of what
may have once been true.
Chuuya doesn't know what kind of a god the dragon was in the past, he doesn't know what he
would do for the humans he claims to care about. He may have been good once, he may have
been kind and loving but—
The redhead can't know any of that.
He can only see this Shibusawa and he's a threat. An enemy.
And Chuuya is just a human, a person who was forced to go through too much pain for
having done nothing to deserve it. Even if a part of him pities the state Shibusawa is in—
"Let's move on to your necklace, okay? I promise it won't hurt."
—a larger part has grown to hate him.
(//It’s okay to stop, before it’s too late.//)
Chapter End Notes
Insane characters might be right behind coldblooded ones when it comes to who I like
writing most ><
But HEH, that was CLOSE :)))
Did I have to make Shibusawa a water dragon? No.

But was it really satisfying after THAT one bsd chapter? Yep~
Everyone's Choice
Chapter Notes
//You can’t win against him alone.//
Mori’s words echo inside Dazai’s head as the kitsune leaves the god’s palace and lets his
flames take him back to his forest – to the place that doesn’t feel like home anymore, not
when Chuuya isn’t there. And no matter what he may have said before, those words haunt
Dazai’s every thought as he tries to piece his plan together.
Because he knows.
Infuriating as it may be, there is no way he can win against Shibusawa, win against someone
who used to be a god, all on his own. He felt it when the dragon was here, when Dazai
couldn't do anything to stop him from taking Chuuya away. The power difference between a
god and a demon – or even between a simple dragon and a regular demon – is too great, too
wide to cross when there isn’t enough time to prepare.
But Dazai has to try.
He has to do something and he has to do it fast.
Chuuya is still alive on the other side of the muffled bond, but who knows how long that will
last for. There’s anger and fear weakly grazing at Dazai’s heart, emotions that mirror his own
but belong to Chuuya. For as long as they’re there, the kitsune can at least tell that the
redhead is alive, but the thought of losing sight of them, of how those thoughts and emotions
could just stop at any given moment—
It can’t happen. Ever.
Dazai won’t let it happen, no matter the cost.
The kitsune doesn’t waste any more time. The moment his empty and feeling colder than
ever house replaces the shine of blue flames, he has already decided. It’s a desperate plan and
it doesn't suit him, but he doesn’t have a choice. Not with this.
“Ryuu, Gi—”
But the words die in his throat as a wave of pain washes over Dazai’s entire body, his entire
being.
It’s sudden and coming from within him, throbbing as it reaches every inch of him.
Something is tearing him apart on the inside, hollowing the cold cracks that have come to be
filled with warmth and replacing every other feeling with pure, unbearable pain because—
Blood splatters on his hand and the ground when Dazai is hit with a fit of violent coughing,
feeling his body give up under him as his knees hit the ground.
The bond.
Something is wrong.
Very, very, very wrong—
His old wounds, the dark lines that map his body start to open again, blood flowing out of
them in long and thick trails as the kitsune’s coughs slowly suffocate him, as he’s drowning
in his own blood. A thousand needles dig into his body, carving out a piece of him that
belongs to—
'DON'T GO! DON'T GO! DAZAI, YOU CAN'T GO—!'
—Chuuya.
The redhead’s tremors barely reach him – they seem so far, outside of Dazai’s reach and with
every remaining presence fading so fast the kitsune can’t stop it. It’s freezing cold again,
Dazai’s soul. Almost the same way it once used to be, before Chuuya made him whole again.
It can’t be happening—
HE WON’T LET IT HAPPEN—!
Dazai’s vision is crimson with blood, his lungs are on fire and every fibre of his being feels
like it’s being torn apart by the claws that can’t be seen, or felt, or fought off.
The pain, it’s everywhere. His body, mind and soul – each of the threads connecting him to
Chuuya breaking, one after another, and with each of them, a part of Dazai seems to
gradually give in to the dark abyss.
It seems to die.
Slowly, but impossible to resist.
No matter how much Dazai tries to fight the stretch ripping their souls apart, no matter how
much he tries to hold on to Chuuya, he can feel himself fading. His mind is clouded, there’s
this ringing in his ears that doesn’t let anything past it and…
Suddenly, Dazai feels exhausted. He can’t move, can’t struggle with the blood flooding his
lungs and throat. He can’t even scream in agony, the way his mind does, because his voice
just won’t come out. The world around him blurs into a red mirage, gradually fading into
darkness as his consciousness slips from his fingers.
It’s so familiar, this feeling – this pain.
It takes away Dazai’s strength to feel anger, or desperation, it takes away his life and—
’DAZAI!’
—then, it’s gone.
Cut off as suddenly as it came.
His body failing him as one last wave of bloodied coughs shakes him, Dazai has to support
himself up with his hands from falling to the ground.
Air floods his body like liquid ice. But the ringing in his ear persists, loud on the silent
background of…
“...Chuuya…”
Distant and distraught, on the very edge of where Dazai can still feel him – but he’se there.
“...It's okay…you're okay…”
Chuuya is hurt but at least he’s alive. Scared and so faint with his presence, but calling out to
him with everything he’s got—
“—zai–sama!”
…who?
…what?
“Dazai–sama!”
As the ringing in his ears starts to fade, Ryuu's voice breaks through the fog clouding Dazai's
mind with the desperate need to grasp at all and every bit of Chuuya’s presence left with him.
To hold the last remaining thread and never let it go.
"Dazai–sama!"
It's only now that the kitsune notices Ryuu's hands on his shoulder, supporting his weight and
keeping him from falling over. Next to him, Gin kneels on the grass, a worried expression
painting her face. She's pale, but doesn't seem to be in pain anymore and her movements are
as quick as ever – the healing spell from Yosano that Dazai gave them before must have
worked.
But the kitsune doesn’t have the right mind to worry about that. Not now.
There’s too much going on in his head already. Chuuya, the bond, the pain, the time that
keeps running out the longer he waits, the plan that he needs to execute if he wants to save
his human and—
When Dazai doesn't say anything back, still dizzy with the memory of agonising pain, Ryuu
moves the fox's arm around his neck and over his shoulders, helping him stand up.
"Gin, go get Yosano–sensei!"
Before the kitsune can stop her, the girl disappears from his blurred sight, while Ryuu slowly
leads them inside. With every step, Dazai leaves behind a red trail as blood drips from his
clothes, bandages and body. The injuries from before haven’t healed yet, and now with the
new ones… it’s taking longer than it should. Too long.
But it doesn’t matter.
He doesn’t care about any of that.
He has to say something, they don't have time for this—
"Ry...uu..."
"Yosano–sensei will be here any minute." The wolf says, leading them to Dazai and Chuuya's
bedroom. "Please hang on for a bit more—"
"L... leave… me..."
"What?” The boy frowns, but never stops. “We're almost there—"
"...here..."
With sheer will–power, Dazai braces himself on the wall in the corridor, carefully sliding to
the ground with Ryuu's help. The open wounds pull at his ripped skin, but the sting helps to
clear his mind, even if only a little.
"And go… get… Kou… you..."
Ryuu's eyes widen visibly and his lips already part to protest, but then… the boy nods,
silently understanding what the other means. "Yes, Dazai–sama." He says quietly, bowing his
head slightly before disappearing among black smoke without another word.
Did he really understand what Dazai meant?
It’ll take too long if he has to go there himself but they need her help if—
It's not long after Ryuu has gone that Dazai hears a familiar clicking and quiet fluttering
sounds echoing inside the house. He doesn't turn his head to greet the guest, nor does he look
at her with the barely seeing eye but...
"I don't think I've ever seen you in such a poor state before."
Yosano sighs at the lack of answer as her eyes examine the injuries on Dazai's body and a
small frown pulls at her brows. She must recognise the injuries that scar his body, she must
know their source, or she wouldn’t have sounded this serious when speaking up again.
Calm, but audibly worried under the veil of professional indifference.

"I'll have to take these off—"
A tail wraps around her wrist when the woman reaches out with her hand to unwrap the
bandages around Dazai's head. They're soaked in blood, much like the rest of the white
material covering his body, but they don't loosen, or fall from their place. They stay.
"...Dazai." Yosano says patiently. "Be reasonable."
But the kitsune doesn't feel like acting reasonably right now. Why should he, when this whole
situation has been nothing short of crazy ever since the beginning?
The bandages always stay.
Only Chuuya is allowed to take them off.
"...just heal it." The fox groans, blood flowing out from his mouth with every word. "I'll…
change them… later..." Once he’s alone, it’ll only take a second to do it. Or he could even go
like this.
It doesn’t matter.
Yosano stares at him, piercing eyes locked with a red orb when… "Fine." She takes her hand
back, kneeling down on one knee as the butterflies sealed in her kimono come to life,
escaping their prison and flying into the world at Yosano’s command, covering the kitsune’s
body and clothes. "But don't think you'll get away without an explanation."
Of course.
Dazai doesn’t plan on keeping Shibusawa’s appearance a secret. Not from Yosano, not from
anyone else. He needs to tell her, he has to at least try and—
With an unchanging expression, Fukuzawa looks at the spot on the table right next to his
hand, where the air seems to glitter with purple light before a small, rolled up piece of paper
hits the surface without making a sound. There are only the quiet noises of cats walking
around the huge room and of Kunikida sorting out his scrolls to the god’s right, when
Fukuzawa unrolls the message and—
“...”
Once the deed is done, everything seems so painfully obvious, doesn’t it?
But it’s not like it could have been helped, there are rules to be followed and now, with
Arahabaki’s essence sealed again, the threat to the world is gone. At least for now. It’s a cruel
fate for the human, to be forced to shoulder something like that, but there is only so much
they can do. Humans, demons, gods…
“Kunikida.”
Despite the god’s ever calm voice, the blond man straightens his back immediately, turning
his head to look at him. “Yes, Fukuzawa–sama?”
“It appears that the young human was caught after all.” Kunikida’s brows furrow slightly but
the spirit doesn’t say anything back just yet. “And the one behind it seems to be a fallen god.”
It’s only then that realisation fills his eyes. “Shibusawa… –san?”
A nod. “The kitsune should be going to fight him soo.” Met with no further comments,
Fukuzawa adds: “I imagine his servants will be joining him.”
“...”
He looks hesitant for a second, his body stiff and his breathing losing its natural rhythm. The
god knows what goes through Kunikida’s head but he won’t comment, not unless asked to.
All those ages ago, he granted the spirit his title because he trusted him, because he felt
Kunikida deserved it, that he would keep everyone serving under him safe—
“May… may I leave to see everyone’s tasks are being fulfilled?”
—and that he would know when to choose what is right over what is easy. When to accept
the truth and pain, instead of hiding in ignorance.
And he wasn’t wrong.
When Fukuzawa offers him another nod, Kunikida stands up from his table, bowing deeply
before walking out the room and heading to where he knows he’ll find the one subordinate he
needs to find.
It’s a sad fate for the human but this isn’t Kunikida’s, or anyone else’s here, battle to fight. It
doesn’t involve them, nor does it have anything to do with Fukuzawa’s followers – there is no
reason for Kunikida to force the demons and spirits he has a duty to look after to fight for
something they didn’t choose to stand for. He would never let that happen, not if he can help
it. And he most certainly does not care what happens to the kitsune or those who follow his
orders, but—
“Atsushi–kun, can I have a minute?”
There was once a time Kunikida knew what being in love felt like and even if it’s only the
one last goodbye that he can grant the tiger, he knows it’s the right thing to do.
Because Kunikida wishes he would have had that chance himself, before it turned out to be
too late.
—
Healed – at least physically – and with fresh bandages wrapped around the closed scars, old
and new, Dazai reaches for the door to their bedroom. He's ready to head out as soon as
possible; there hasn't been any new pain coming from Chuuya's faint end of their bond, only
a storm of nerves and stress and confusion, but they can't wait any longer. He'll tell the
Akutagawa siblings what to do and then he's going to make Shibusawa pay for everything the
dragon has done to them—
"Oh my." The moment the door slides open, Kouyou's eyes meet his as a floral aroma fills the
air. "You really do look terrible, don't you?"
So, Ryuu’s visit was a success, huh?
Ignoring the comment, Dazai glances to the sides, then starts walking down the hallway.
"Yosano?"
"Gone." Kouyou answers as she falls in step with him without a problem.
It’s not a surprise, even if it is an inconvenience. The fox expected this to be the case, no
matter how disappointing and not ideal that one piece of information is. He told Yosano what
needed to be said but even he doesn’t have the power to force her hand.
"...did you talk to her?" It wouldn't guarantee anything, but they're desperate – Dazai is
desperate – and anything is always worth a try when it comes to helping Chuuya—
"Akiko never breaks her rules." Kouyou's voice lowers as they walk together. "Not for you,
and not even for me."
...so be it.
"And have you chosen yet?" From the corner of his eye, Dazai looks at her calm expression.
He’s seen it more times than he can count and even after all of that, he can never be sure what
hides underneath her mask at times like this. "I’m not promising you’ll survive.”
She, or any of them.
Or himself, for that matter.
"Don't worry about my relationship with Death, fox." Kouyou takes out her fan as they
approach the door to the garden, covering the lower half of her face as a shadow passes
through her expression, making the red glint in her eyes shine brighter than before for a
second. "I'm here, aren't I?"
She is, indeed.
And Dazai supposes that's enough of an answer.

As much as he hates to admit it, he needs Kouyou if he wants to have a chance of not only
winning against the dragon, but also coming back home after it. With Chuuya.
Not a guarantee.
A chance.
It’s the best he can get.
He hates to prove Mori right, but if having one person more will help get Chuuya back, Dazai
isn't afraid to ask for help. He doesn’t care about debts or owning favours, nor does his pride
matter to him now. There’s only Chuuya on his mind. Only the plan to take his husband back.
As the garden comes into view, the scents hit Dazai's slightly dulled with pain senses for the
first time. His brow shoot up and his tails stir because—
Maybe it's not just one more person.
Maybe, somehow, it's three.
—a few minutes earlier—
The moment Kouyou steps into Chuuya’s garden, she knows.
Ryuu hasn’t explained much to her yet, only that the redhead was taken and that Dazai
requested for her to come here, but she doesn’t need the details from the wolf to know
exactly what has happened.
She can sense them here, the traces left behind. In the vapour lingering in the air, in its power
and madness, in the smell of blood and rage mixing into one. It was only once or twice that
she met the dragon and it’s been ages since then, but it’s one of those moments that are
impossible to forget. No matter how tainted by the mad call of death, Shibusawa’s scent
cannot be mistook for anyone else’s.
There’s also Yosano’s delicate presence clear to Kouyou’s senses, something she expected
from Ryuu’s brief explanation, and another, much more familiar scent of…
“Kouyou–san.” The man bows, deep and polite, before her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Hirotsu.” The spirit offers him an elegant smile, masking the concern that slowly seeps into
her mind. “I’m happy to see you’ve been well. But given the circumstances…” A distant
sound of fluttering wings catches Kouyou’s attention, her eyes glimpsing at the house again.
“If you’ll excuse me.” She says, briefly eyeing the two wolves and the older man before
heading inside.
The house is empty and silent, save for the quiet shuffling and low growls coming from one
of the rooms and…
“Kouyou.”
And her.
“Akiko.”
Standing right in front of the spirit in all her beauty and with a hint of a conflicted mind
peeking from behind jewels–like eyes. Elegant as ever, even if clearly stiff to the eyes that
have seen each and every side of her.
“Leaving so soon?”
As the three of them watch Kouyou step inside the house, Ryuu’s eyes wander to Hirotsu,
confused and slightly surprised to see the man here. He has heard of Mori’s guardian spirit,
met him a couple of times by pure coincidence, but he wasn’t here when Dazai came back
earlier. Which makes it not only a question of why he’s here, but also of how he got inside the
barrier.
It’s designed to keep any demon out, unless their, or someone who is helping them, strength
can match Dazai’s and break through the spell. But even then, Ryuu and Gin would notice it,
that’s their job here, and they didn’t. The distance isn’t a problem with the kind of spell that
guards the forest. Even while away with Kouyou, Ryuu should have felt it happen. The fact
that there was nothing – no disturbance to the barrier, no holes cut through it – can only mean
one thing—
“Mori–sama sent me to help.”
—that someone much more powerful than a demon sent him here directly.
Hirotsu smiles at them, a knowing look shining in his eyes as he meets the two wolves’
gazes. “You need not worry about me.”
Straightening his back, the man looks somewhere over Ryuu’s head right before the boy
freezes as he senses someone breaching the barrier. Someone both he and Gin knows very
well. Someone—
“Ryuu! Gin! Ah…” Atsushi hesitates as he runs up to them, looking at Hirotsu with an
awkward expression of someone getting caught red–handed. “...hello?”
Without a single word, Hirotsu nods at him. He would introduce himself, of course,
however…
“Atsushi?” Ryuu breathes out, disbelief clear in his voice. Then, louder… “What are you
doing here?!”
“I—” Atsushi’s brows furrow as he looks at Gin briefly. “I came to help…?”
Help with… Shibusawa? But Ryuu hasn’t told him anything about it and had no plans of
doing so ever. Gin wouldn’t have gone to him, either, not without asking her brother first.
“How—”
“Kunikida–san told me—well, Fukuzawa–sama told him, and then he told me what
happened. I don’t know how he knew in the first place, but they helped me get here when I
said I wanted to help, and—”
“You can’t.” Ryuu cuts him off, stepping closer to the tiger as his eyes grow more serious.
“It’s dangerous.”
Atsushi’s frown only deepens as the tiger doesn’t move an inch back. “I know, that’s why I’m
here.”
“No.” Ryuu’s voice is only calm because he needs it to, but his fingers twitch as his thoughts
race in his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
The two wolves he fought before and the one that managed to fool even Gin, not to mention
Shibusawa, a former god – it’s beyond what Atsushi has ever had to face before. Beyond
anything any of them has ever had the misfortune of facing. There are too many things that
can go wrong, too many possibilities of making a mistake that will end up being fatal.
He doesn’t need Dazai to say it, Ryuu is well aware of his own that the fight they’ll be going
into isn’t one they can win easily, if even at all. He know it may be his last and he’s willing to
make that sacrifice but—
“You should go back and let us handle it.”
—he is not ready to put Atsushi’s life on the line along with his own. He’s the one person
Ryuu will never sacrifice, not even for the kitsune.
“What?” Atsushi blinks at him, confused, before his eyes fill with faint anger. “No.”
“Yes. Just trust me, please.”
“How can I trust you when you said it yourself? It’s too dangerous.”
“But that’s exactly why—”
“I’m not letting you go there without me.” There’s none of the usual kindness left in
Atsushi’s voice, there is only concern and determination, a firm note instead of a hesitant one.
“I know what you’re trying to do, but I’m not going to risk you not coming back to me,
Ryuunosuke.”
Atsushi’s words have Ryuu speechless for a second, not because of what the tiger says but
because of how he says it. It’s the tone he uses when he’s already made up his mind, when no
matter what Ryuu may try to say or do – it won’t work. Not with Atsushi, who has seen
enough to know how unkind this world can be. How dangerous, even in the brightness of
places.
It makes Ryuu worry even more, his inside twisting at the thought of what may happen if he
allows the tiger to go with them, and it’s only Gin’s reassuring hand settling on his shoulder
that brings the wolf back to here and now. Back to the reality, where his lover is choosing to
risk his life to help them, and Ryuu can’t stop him.
He knows he can’t, not when Atsushi is like that, unwavering in his choices and beliefs.
“...”
It’s one of the things that made Ryuu fall in love with him in the first place, even if the wolf
sometimes wishes the other boy would learn to compromise a little. At least when his safety
is in danger. Especially then.
“...and your superior is fine with this?” The wolf mumbles as a last, desperate resort.
“Well…” When Ryuu doesn’t try to persuade him to change his mind anymore, Atsushi’s
features relax involuntarily. “Kunikida–san said that as long as I don’t kill anyone, he’ll look
the other way…”
How ironic.
The only time Ryuu wishes Kunikida was more strict about the rules everyone serving under
Fukuzawa must obey, the spirit chooses to let Atsushi decide for himself which principles to
follow and which to look past.
“You’re back early.”
Ranpo’s voice and face are the first things that greet Yosano back, and the demon can only let
out a sigh she’s been holding all this time when she sees it. “I did what I went there to do.”
She walks past the human, heading for the door leading to the clinic. Ever since the incident
with Chuuya and Fyodor, things have gone back to normal. To the usual cases, the usual
number of patients – the old and peaceful days.
“And now I’m back to do my job.”
Because no matter how mundane life can get, her work never ends. There is always someone
to help, to heal—
“So you aren’t going to help get Chuuya back?”
Yosano stops right as she’s about to slide the door open, her hand frozen in place by Ranpo’s
words. She can feel his gaze on her back, hear the only slightly accelerated beating of his
heart and sense how stiff his muscles are despite his calm tone. It’s his worry that makes her
hesitate but…
It doesn’t last long.
Regaining her composure, Yosano straightens her back and slides the door open, looking over
her shoulder to meet the green eyes’ gaze with an unwavering conviction. Because Yosano
knows what she can and can’t do, and while she knows how to fight and how to be extremely
dangerous—
Before anything else, she’s a doctor.
She can’t and won’t let anyone die in front of her if she can save them…
“I’m helping them by staying here.”
…even if that someone is an insane, fallen god, who has made someone close to her suffer.
It only takes Dazai a heartbeat to understand what he’s seeing, at least partially. He isn’t
exactly sure how Atsushi knows what is going on, nor does he care about it right now, but the
tiger’s eagerness to help Ryuu is of no surprise to him. If he wants to go, no one is going to
stop him – well, at least not Dazai, because the kitsune can see all too clearly how the young
wolf feels about it. How both him and Gin feel about it.
A part of Dazai may pity the siblings, but having Atsushi with them is an advantage he
wouldn’t want to miss out on if he can have it. As long as he doesn’t stand in the way of the
kitsune’s bloodlust, that is. Because if Atsushi doesn’t want to kill anyone, that’s his choice,
but Dazai will not be having anyone stopping him from taking Shibusawa’s life. And if they
try—
Again, that’s their choice and their consequences to face, once it comes to it.
But the fox doubts Atsushi will have any means of stopping him, anyway. He’ll most likely
stick to Ryuu and Gin the whole time, making sure they’re safe, or at least not at Death’s
door.
Hirotsu, on the other hand…
His presence here stirs something inside Dazai. A part of him that the fox has always shut off,
buried under the many layers of spite and distaste and hostility, which the kitsune never truly
understood the origins of.
Hirotsu is a powerful demon – many met their end at his hands, tangled in his webs until their
last breaths – but he can also be surprisingly gentle. Caring, even.
However, no matter how fondly he may look back to older days, he would not be able to
come here on his own even if he wanted to. Because guardian spirits cannot leave their god’s
side without strict orders, or permission. That’s a rule they swear to follow the day they step
to the god’s side, one they won’t be able to break on their own—
Which means Mori sent him.
And that is even more of an unknown in this already confusing mess of events taking place
one after another.
Gods are powerful but their strengths and influences aren’t absolute. They roam all the
dimensions but they aren’t allowed to interfere with the mortal worlds however they please.
They can listen to prayers and grant humans’ wishes, but never impose their care on those
who haven’t asked for it. They can only guide souls to the right path, not create it for them.
Because despite all their might and glory, gods are one of the loneliest creations in this world.
They feel emotions the same way everyone else, but aren’t allowed to act on them without
enough humans wishing them to. They can love and hate with all their hearts, but only from
the shadows of their palaces.
It’s a rule that keeps balance and peace.
Set not by the gods, but by the world itself.
And it’s absolute. Breaking it comes with grave consequences that favour no one, which is
why Dazai hasn’t even tried asking Odasaku for help – he knows his friend can’t do anything
with only a single wish from a demon to justify it. Even if he would allow Ango to leave him,
the tanuki isn’t versed in fighting, he wouldn’t be of any help in this situation.
…and yet, Hirotsu is here.
At Mori’s command.
It’s a risk for the god, like playing with fire and leaving it up to Fate to decide whether he’ll
get burnt or not when he sticks his hand into it without hesitating. Even if Mori isn’t here
himself, the risk is too great to take, it should have been too great to even consider and yet—
//I hope your plan doesn’t involve you facing Shibusawa alone, Dazai–kun.//
Mori did it.

All to help get Chuuya back.
(To help Dazai come back alive.)
And the reason as to why, is something Dazai isn’t quite ready to decipher yet. Something he
doesn’t have the time to dwell on. Not now. But if they make it back…
When Dazai and Kouyou step into the garden, the others’ eyes turn to the kitsune as they all
fall quiet, waiting. But he doesn’t spare them any explanation, doesn’t give them a speech he
won’t even mean. If they’re here, they know what is at stake. Formalities would only be
pointless and a waste of time.
Instead, Dazai’s flames burst all around them in a wide circle, swallowing everyone present,
and once they fade—
Shibusawa’s water barrier is right there.
Daunting, but not impossible to cross anymore.
“I’ll leave the wolves to you.” His lips twitch into a smirk as the kitsune extends his arm to
the cold surface, small waves forming from where his skin meets the spell. “Feel free to kill
them.”
The promise Dazai made to Mori’s scared wolf is something that binds only him, not the
Akutagawa siblings. He’s here to get rid of Shibusawa and, if everything goes right, he won’t
even see the dragon’s servants or what happens to them. His promise will be kept, just as
Mori’s presence reassured Tachihara of.
But Ryuu and Gin? They never promised anything to anyone, and if there’s one thing that
they take after Dazai after all those years of serving the fox—
It’s that they are not much on the forgiving side.
Especially Ryuu, who used to growl at anyone daring to even look at his sister the wrong way
when they were only pups.
Behind him, Atsushi blinks, confused. “Huh—?”
“Yes, Dazai–sama.” But the Akutagawa siblings know what Dazai means, because they both
intend to set the scores even, with or without the kitsune’s request.
While Kouyou and Hirotsu… they know what to do. It’s only up to Dazai to open the gate for
everyone now, to break the spell that seems like a labyrinth without an end to it, unless you
know where the door is.
Or rather, unless you know which whisper it is that you need to follow.
It’s an echo that rings through the spell every now and then, insignificant and distant.
(It’s familiar, somehow.)

So quiet it’s impossible to hear it unless you know it’s there, unless you’re waiting for it, and
once you do hear it—
It’s like a child’s melody.
Innocent among the madness surrounding it. Only… it’s sad, somehow. Missing bits and
pieces, growing weaker as it fades and then ringing again more like an apology, rather than
anything else. A song that guides you to the other side, even if some of the notes have been
forgotten with time. A memory that holds your hand and gently leads you… Well, for
everyone else that has crossed the barrier – Shibusawa and his wolves – it probably leads
them home.
And isn’t that just a cruel coincidence?
It’s the same for Dazai.
Because Chuuya is his home, and he’s waiting for him on the other side.
Once the way out appears clear, the kitsune lets it all burn – the spell breaks at its
foundations, the melody that has been singing through it for centuries slowly fading into its
final silence. A cry that has come to a stop and…
An obstacle that has crumbled.
Chapter End Notes
There was literally no way for me to make this NOT seem like "Avengers, unite!" scene
T_T but oh well...
FIGHTING AND SOMETHING ELSE IS COMING SOON WOOHOOO
Also, I understand Asagiri's struggle because navigating a story with this many POVs
is.... :') BUT THEY'RE IMPORTANT SO I MUST
Of Scales And Blades
Chapter Notes
"Let's move on to your necklace, okay? I promise it won't hurt."
Shibusawa’s smile is blindly polite, while the claw of his index finger grows out long and
sharp. The water shackles feel tight around Chuuya’s wrists and ankles, keeping him pinned
to the stone bed and unable to move, but the way Shibusawa brushes a loose strand away
from the boy’s face and neck is unfairly gentle. A gesture that doesn’t belong in this situation,
in the here and now.
In any other circumstances, Chuuya would believe the dragon’s intentions are good. Pure,
like the sorrow that ever so often passes behind the red eyes.
But like this, he can’t.
The glimpses of a person… of a god Shibusawa used to be are there, lighting up the dark
clouds of a late evening, but they’re nothing more than that – glimpses. Memories of what
has been lost.
Ruins, from which madness was born.
Words die in Chuuya’s throat before they can escape him, his breathing frantic as he tries to
push his head as far away as possible – a futile attempt. His eyes follow the dark claw, wide
as a dozen scenarios and plans pass through his head. His jaw is clenched as the redhead
prepares himself for pain once more, for the fight with the thing that is about to be set free
within him.
For the darkness that swallows everything.
For the peaceful sleep that births nightmares.
Even if he’s eventually going to lose to the hatred tearing his body apart, he doesn’t have to
give into it so easily. Unlike last time, Chuuya knows what’s coming and he can at least try
to mentally prepare for it. Guard his mind with everything he’s got.
Will it work? He can’t know.
But he sure as hell will not be going down without a fight.
He can feel the light press of the tip of Shibusawa’s claw over his Adam’s apple through the
black material covering it. It’s light, barely a tickling tease, but it makes Chuuya’s heart
pound in his chest and his blood rush in his ears.
The slight press – Chuuya’s eyes squeeze shut.
The smallest rip in the black material lets the violent screams carry to his mind—
But then, it stops.
The door guarding Chuuya’s mind stands creaked open, but it doesn’t move any further. The
burning flow of something intruding his soul leaves a stinging sensation as it washes over his
body, but it isn't enough to numb the redhead’s consciousness. There’s ringing in his ears, but
he’s still himself, and when Chuuya opens his eyes, Shibusawa isn’t looking at him.
Instead, his head is turned to the side, absentmindedly focused on something the boy can’t
see. Long, white strands slide from the dragon’s shoulder and fall freely around his head as
his expression turns more… worried?
Not alarmed, but… guilty?
The claw retracts slowly, and Chuuya can finally let the breath that’s been suffocating him
out, too panically relieved to consider if he’s celebrating too soon, or not.
“Excuse me for a moment, young human.”
Just like that, without a word of explanation, Shibusawa leaves – disappears with the sound
of a single water drop falling to a still surface.
It’s only Chuuya now.
Him and the waters chaining him to the ruins of a palance that mirror the ruins of a fallen
god’s mind.
Tetchou doesn’t hiss when a wet cloth is pressed to his arm. He doesn’t flinch, nor do his lips
twist into a grimace. He sits still, patient—
“Sorry.” Teruko offers him a smile, but doesn’t look away from the wound. “Bear with it for
a moment longer, it’s nothing too serious.”
—and yet, somehow, the girl can see right through him.
“...I didn’t say anything.”
Teruko chuckles at that, a single sparkle lighting up in her eyes. “Your ear twitched. I don’t
need more than that to know you don’t like it.”
Did it really…?
“...I see.”
“Was the boy that much of a trouble for you two?” She then asks, distracting Tetchou from
the sting of a healing wound.
Next to them, Jouno stands by himself, his face turned away from the other two wolves. His
tail hangs low over the ground, unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest. “No.” The white
wolf’s voice is colourless, cutting. “It was fine.”
A hum. “And yet, Tetchou got hurt.”
“It’s just a scratch—”
“If he had just minded his own business, he wouldn’t have made an opening for the fox’s
servant.” The quiet jingle rings through the air as Jouno’s ear twitches, annoyed. “That’s
what he gets for jumping in front of me without thinking.”
‘These two…’, Teruko finds herself thinking, though a tired smile blooms on her lips. ‘They
never grow up, do they?’
With a quiet voice, Tetchou mumbles the words as his eyes look somewhere to the side.
“...you were busy with the smoke–familiar.”
“I can handle myself just fine, Suehiro.”
“How cute~” Another chuckle rips from Teruko’s lips, her shoulders shaking slightly. She
glances at Jouno, raising her brows teasingly. “To be sulking because Tetchou got hurt trying
to help you.”
It takes a heartbeat of silence for her words to sink in, and then they do…
“...excuse me?” Jouno turns his head to face Teruko, his brows pulled together into a frown
and his smirk sharp, poisonous with mock politeness. “Who exactly do you mean is sulk—”
But he doesn’t finish his question.
Instead, all three of them fall silent as a gentle breeze carries the salty scent of the deepest of
seas. It’s… like a drop falling onto a still surface. A single ripple through the here and now,
as Shibusawa appears next to them.
“Master—” Jouno and Tetchou speak at once, while Teruko only bows her head slightly.
Smiling at them, the dragon lets out a sigh – the same one that always escapes him when he
hears that word instead of his name. It’s been a long time since he’s given up on trying to
correct them and, instead, accepted that some things may never change no matter how much
he tries to make things right.
“Is…?” Tetchou’s eyes are wide as he gazes up at Shibusawa, searching for any sign of
change. “Did it work? Are you…?”
“No.” Comes a simple answer.
All three wolves are visibly tense, their expressions falling momentarily—
“It’s not finished yet.”
—only for everyone’s mind to halt at that, too quick defeat fading and leaving space for
confusion to settle in.
“...it’s not?” Jouno asks, and Shibusawa shakes his head.
“...why are you here, then?” Even Teruko’s hand has stopped moving, the wet cloth hovering
over Tetchou’s wound without actually cleaning the blood. “What about the vessel?”
Unbothered by the wolves’ confusion – or maybe it’s that he doesn’t notice it? – Shibusawa
walks up to Jouno slowly. “I left him to wait for a bit.”
“...why?” The white wolf frown deepens. “We should hur—”
Carefully the dragon’s hand comes up to the boy’s face, a single finger trailing a small cut on
his face, covering it with glittering water. With bubbles that shine weakly as the wound
underneath them begins to close.
“Because I sensed you came back hurt.”
Then, he turns to the other two, his expression alone enough for Teruko to understand. Her
hand moves away as she steps to the side, letting the dragon see Tetchou’s wound fully. But
the boy only brings his free hand up to cover it, stubborn.
“It’s nothing, Master.” He says, trying to hide the hint of concern from his voice. “You should
go back before they come for the human.”
“Suehiro will be fine.” Jouno adds, from behind Shibusawa’s back.
With an apology painted on his face, Shibusawa steps closer despite their words. “I’ll go back
in a second.”
“But we don’t have the time to—”
“What if something goes wro—”
“Let me.” As if he doesn’t hear their protests, Shibusawa’s gaze falls on the hand that covers
the wound. Not demanding, only gently patient for Tetchou to move on his own. “It’ll feel
better soon.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
The three of them look at each other, faint frustration mixing with their confusion, with the
exhaustion that has become an integrated part of their lives without any of them noticing.
They don’t know what to think, what to say to get their words across, but most of all—
“Thank you.” Shibusawa says when Tetchou’s hand moves away from the wound.
—they don’t understand anything.
It’s been a long time since the last time they understood any of it. Since the time when
everything was maybe not so much as easy but… more peaceful.
Just like with Jouno’s cheek, Shibusawa’s fingers leave a trail of water that doesn’t flow
down Tetchou’s arm, but only covers the wound, soothing the faint sting of it.
“...but it’s a waste of time.” The boy mumbles out what they all think, while the dragon…
“It’s not.” The dragon only smiles. The same way he did centuries ago, when it was the burns
from their old collars that he would heal. “A god’s priority is their family.”
Pressing their lips together, the three wolves stare at him in silence for a while. There’s a
sense of comfort that those words awake in them, happiness they bring to life over and over
again, but it also comes with guilt. With sorrow. Because they know the truth. They know
what Shibusawa should have said but couldn’t—
“...it’s not.” Teruko’s smile doesn’t falter as she speaks. “It’s their subjects.” Even if the light
in her eyes slowly begins to fade after years of dimming. “Right?”
“...” A shadow passes through the red eyes and dark scales, dimming the light in them.
Dimming the path Shibusawa doesn’t know how to stay on, anymore. “...so quiet.”
“We know.” Jouno says. “That’s why you should go back. To the vessel.”
But Shibusawa doesn’t look away from the wound on the wolf’s arm, as if he can’t hear any
of it. “...always so quiet.”
“Master.” Tetchou’s fingers settle on Shibusawa’s wrist, carefully pushing it away. “It’s okay
now.”
“...”
“You should go.”
“...”
“We’ll guard the barrier until you’re done.”
“...”
Slowly, the dragon gazes up, looking first at Tetchou, then Teruko and Jouno…
“...I should go.” His smile feels apologetic, but not one of the wolves can tell what exactly
Shibusawa is apologising for.
For allowing them to get hurt.
For not listening.
For coming here instead of fulfilling the plan right away, or—
Maybe, for something else.
(//It’s not your fault. They chose this to be their freedom.//)
“Be careful.” With these as his last words, Shibusawa disappears as quickly and silently as he
appeared before—
Like a drop falling into the stormy sea.
It’s… not here.
As the dragon looks around, he finds himself somewhere else than he wanted to. It’s not far
from where he left the human, but… it’s not where he planned to go, either.
Is it not listening to him again, his power?
…is it still there?
Should he try again?
…will it ever be the same?
There’s still time.
…why is it so quiet?
Everything is silent.
…the songs and whispers are dead, emotions and images – gone.
Ah, he’ll walk.

…the human must be getting impatient.
So close.
…will he forgive him—
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’, an old memory’s voice rings next to him. A child’s
voice. ‘You said it’s against the rules.’
Shibusawa only smiles, looking down at the shadow of a boy walking at his side. “You’re
back.”
‘I never left.’
“But you’re not here.”
‘Neither are you.’
…is that why the voices left him?
“Are you happy there?” Offering his hand to the ghost of a memory, Shibusawa’s smile
softens. “With your human and cat?”
A small hand slides into his, not a single touch to be felt. The boy looks up at him. Big,
purple eyes shining with the light of older days as a single tail sways behind the small figure,
dark fur over the white material of his kimono.
‘I can’t know if you don’t ask me.’
“But I just did.”
‘And I’m not really here.’
“But you said you never left.”
‘Because I didn’t.’
Their hands sway together as they walk side by side, only stopping when the ruins of what
once was full of their life surrounds them.
“Will you stay with me?”
(“...huh?” – but Shibusawa doesn’t hear it.)
‘Do you want me to?’
“...no.”
(“...what?”)
The boy leans to the side looking somewhere behind Shibusawa. ‘Because it’s against the
rules?’
The dragon shakes his head, the red of his eyes growing darker with the never–ending
sorrows. “Because I don’t want you to hate me for it.”
A hum. Then…
‘I would never hate you.’
How easy would it be to believe it, but he can’t. “You can’t know that if you’re not here.”
(“What are you…?”)
‘I can.’ The boy looks at him again and, this time, he’s older. Taller and with sharper features,
three black tails behind his back. ‘I do know.’
“But you’re not him.”
A hand ghosts over Shibusawa’s cheek, a memory of a touch giving it the warmth it lacks. ‘I
am.’
And as it fades, the mirage leaves behind only silence.
‘For as long as you need me, I’m here.’
…ah, it really is so quiet here, isn’t it?
“I’m sorry.”
Someone’s footsteps are getting closer, and Chuuya forces his body to struggle against the
water’s hold once more. It hasn’t worked so far, but maybe—
“Will you stay with me?”
The boy blinks, his expression frozen in confusion. “...huh?”
“...no.”
“...what?” Is Shibusawa talking to him? But he isn’t even looking at Chuuya, so why… Is he
talking to himself, perhaps? Why is he looking down, then?
“Because I don’t want you to hate me for it.”
…who? Because if he means Chuuya, then it’s already too late for that—
“You can’t know if you’re not here.”
“What are you…?” But the redhead can’t finish it, not when he sees Shibusawa’s face as the
dragon looks slightly up – a smile so sorrowful, yet grateful. Miserable and relieved and—
“But you’re not him.”
There are many things Chuuya will never understand. Like how the Akutagawa siblings can
never follow a recipe. Like how Dazai prefers the roof over any other surface in their house.
Like how Verlaine and Adam never run out of stories from his childhood to tell. But most
importantly—
He doesn’t understand this.
How, for that split second, a moment that passes quicker than a single heartbeat, he finds
himself pitying the person standing over him. Pitying the dragon he should and does hate.
But how could he not, when the face Shibusawa makes reminds him of a child about to cry?
“I’m sorry.” The dragon whispers into the silence that answers him, and Chuuya can’t help
but feel his chest tighten at the sound of it because…
Why does it sound like a part of it is meant for him?
But it doesn’t matter. None of it. Because—
SPLASH!
“Stay away from my husband.”
—a few minutes prior—
“Do you think it’ll work?” Rolling down his sleeve, Tetchou glances at Teruko.
The girl is looking at the water’s still surface on the ground, right where Shibusawa was
standing until just a few seconds ago. There are shadows dancing on her features, cast by the
emotions too old to let go of and, yet, remaining hidden. Pushed to the side, not even for
Teruko herself to fully see and understand anymore.
“I don’t know.” She sighs, running a hand through the long hair. “I hope so.”
“...and if not?”
She looks between the two of them, thinking over her words. “If not…” She has thought
about it more times than she’s willing to admit, but the answer never came to her. “Whatever
happens next is for Master to choose.” She ends up saying. “Not for us to decide.”
Nodding, Tetchou readjusts his kimono, looking around them. “We should go—”
Jingle!
Jouno’s ears perk up, his body freezing as the other two’s heads snap towards him. “Is that
—?”
“Let’s go.” The white wolf hisses out before quickly leaping towards the barrier, Teruko and
Tetchou right behind him. “They’re here and…”His brows furrow at the distant sensations, at
the way the melody he’s grown so used to over the centuries quiets down. “...they know the
way.”
“What? How?”
Swallowing a growl, Jouno’s lips twist into a sharp smirk, dangerous under the veil of dark
amusement. “I have an idea, and if it’s true…” His grip over the hilt of his sword tightens.
“...I will stab him through the back.”
“You—”
But before Tetchou can voice his many questions, they all come to a stop before the wall of
crystal clear water stretching into the sky, disappearing among the mist that never clears. It’s
supposed to be calm, undisturbed, but here…
Here, it’s surface is trembling, the small waves and ripples growing stronger and bigger with
every second, and then—
With one last ripple, the water flattens down. Right before it falls to the ground, a waterfall
disappearing with its last waves. Not all of it has fallen, it’s only a narrow path that opened
up – the barrier is too old, too heavily written into existence, to be destroyed this easily – but
for those on the other side, it's enough.
It’s a glare colder than ice that greets them, darker than the deepest oceans and much more
dangerous with its intent. A red shine that seeks blood. A flowery scent that carries the
promise of death, and a web of threats woven into the air.
Deep down, the three wolves know they don’t stand a chance, not against these people, but—
Before any of them can make a move, the kitsune and the other two demons… they’re gone.
Jingle!
Jouno’s head snaps back as he turns around, sensing exactly where the three scents
reappeared. “They’re—!”
But Teruko grabbing him by the arm and jumping to the side cuts his words off.
“None of your concern.” Ryuu’s words come out around a low growl. He’s standing right
where Jouno was before, in his full–wolf form and with bared fangs. Behind him, a similar
wolf approaches Tetchou, silent in her murderous intent.
Jingle!
Jouno and Teruko switch positions, the white wolf facing Ryuu while the girl stands behind
him, their backs turned to each other.
“Em…” Atsushi says, pity and apology written all over his face as he meets Teruko’s gaze.
He’s still in his human form, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “You know, we
don’t have to do this.” But it’s as if he doesn’t believe his own words, having resigned to
what’s about to happen already, because—
A sudden explosion shakes the air from a distance, and Teruko’s eyes narrow, her hand
coming to the hilt of her sword…
“Oh, I think we do.”
“Stay away from my husband.”
“Daz—!”
Dazai only gets a glimpse of Chuuya’s body before a veil of water covers the stone bed and
the redhead lying on it, sealing him from the kitsune’s eyes and ears. It must be just a veil of
a prison and not the bubble filled with water, because even with how weakened their bond is,
the fox cannot sense Chuuya struggling for air behind it.
It’s little consolation, but at least it lets the kitsune focus on the enemy before him – on the
dead man walking – without worrying about Chuuya running out of time while Dazai can’t
reach him.
“I must admit.” Shibusawa’s voice rings empty, without any colour to it. “I did not expect
you to come this far, young fox.”
But Dazai doesn’t wait for him, releasing his fury in a burst of blue flames swallowing the
dragon’s body. It’s merely a way to let his anger out before it starts clouding his mind and
judgement, to relish in seeing Shibusawa’s figure disappear among the dancing fire that
would have killed him if he was anyone else, but doesn’t.
As if indulging him, the dragon lets it happen, and once the last sparks of Dazai’s anger
fade…
“Which makes me wonder,” Shibusawa continues, unbothered.
He turns around to look at the three of them, but his gaze only lingers on Kouyou and Hirotsu
for a brief second before falling to Dazai, and… It’s only then that a single, bright glint
shines in the red eyes. The one drop of realisation tripping the hollowness into anger.
“How did you know the way inside?”
Dazai tilts his head, a grin stretching his lips into wicked satisfaction. “Your pet told me.” He
can see how the water at Shibusawa’s feet stirs. “You should keep them on a leash if you
don’t want them running their mouth behind your ba—”
SPLASH!
Dazai jumps to the side right before Shibusawa’s tail falls hard on the ground, sending
perturbed waves through the surface and splashing droplets all around. That’s the one
advantage he has over Shibusawa, god or not.
Dragons are powerful, much more than any other demon, but no creature can ever be perfect.
Even if they can take the form of a human body, conceal themselves in a figure much smaller
and more agile, the nature of their movements stays the same—
They’re slow.
Each attack is deadly, but they’re easy to avoid when you know they’re coming. To a certain
extent, that is. And Dazai, as a kitsune, is fast, faster than most. It’s for that exact reason that
Shibusawa had to wait for him to leave Chuuya alone, because if only the fox tried to take
him away and run—
The dragon wouldn’t be able to catch them.
But once he reached the redhead, it became a matter of raw strength and that’s something
Dazai could never hope to win against. Not by himself. It ended up the only way the world
would allow it to end – with the kitsune losing everything he holds dear.
Right now, however, he isn’t alone anymore.
Shibusawa’s eyes follow the fox, his expression unchanging. “I don’t appreciate the way you
speak of my family, young fox.”
“Ironic.” Dazai’s tone is a mockery of a polite melody, cutting like a blade. “I don’t
appreciate you stealing my husband, either.”
They stare at each other in silence for a moment but then, Shibusawa lets out a sigh – not
annoyed, not tired, just… disinterested. Without moving from his spot, the dragon moves his
tail again, swinging it behind himself and at the water prison without looking.
“It won’t work.” He says, but his words lack the sharp edge he has only offered to Dazai so
far.
This time, it’s not just the water droplets that fly to the air, but also a hundred pink petals and
silver threads, disappearing once they reach the ground. Unharmed and having avoided the
attack, Kouyou and Hirotsu land next to Dazai.
The spirit lowers her voice as she speaks, eyes never leaving Shibusawa’s figure. “It’s well
sealed.”
“It’ll take time to break it.” Hirotsu adds. “Undisturbed time, of course.” Which is something
they won’t get no matter how hard they may try.
Dazai’s fangs flash from behind his lips. “It’ll fall apart on its own once I kill him.”
“Kill me?” The dragon’s tail comes to lay before him, almost lazy. “Forgive me, but I don’t
think you can. You or your companions.”
He may be right, but that doesn’t mean Dazai won’t try. They’re all faster than Shibusawa
and it’s three on one, they wouldn’t stand much of a chance if the dragon was still in his right
mind, but… He’s not.
Dazai can see it in the way this world that Shibusawa has built for himself doesn’t seem to
listen to him anymore, in how it crumbles on its own despite the dragon’s lasting presence
feeding it its power. He may be strong but he isn’t who he used to be anymore. It’s true that
his scales are harder than any metal, thicker than Dazai’s fangs or claws could ever hope to
penetrate, even in his full–fox form, but…
“We’ll see about that.”
How long has it been since the last time Dazai took it out of the depths of his eldest spells?
His fingers itch when the electrifying kisses of his flames come to life in the palm of his
hand, extending further until they hover right over the ground. They burn bright, but stay
contained. When Dazai’s hand tightens around them, the flames give way to the black ray
skin covering the handle. His touch disperse the rest of the flames as if they’re being blown
away by his murderous intent alone, giving way to…
A blade that imprisons the shadows within the azure flames engraved into its silver. Sharp
with the thousand careful movements that polished it. Cold with the depths that held it hidden
for ages.
It’s been at Dazai’s side for a long, long time, but the kitsune has never had the need to use it,
not when he would actually mean it. Mori’s training gave it purpose for a while, the
occasional sparring with more powerful demons and spirits busied Dazai’s boring days, but…
This sword, the blade that is the embodiment of his true self, has never been used to kill
before. It has never been held with the intent to take a life, never been infused with the desire
that would burn this brightly. And now that its time has come, Dazai can feel the blade’s call,
its quiet wishes that mirror his own.
“My, my.” Kouyou muses next to him, taking out her fan from behind the belt of her kimono.
“I see we’re not playing around anymore.”
Her petals, gold and pink and white, swirl around the fan and beyond, giving way to a blade
with a rosy shine to it, with sakura flowers captured inside its golden body. The song of her
soul is calmer, with a ghost of a shadow dancing with the delicate flowers.
Shibusawa looks at the three of them, unimpressed. “I appreciate the effort, but your weapons
won’t help you.” His tail stirs and the scales around his eyes seem to shine. “I’ve felt them
coming into existence long before any of you even noticed it.”
He heard the strings of Fate playing new melodies, before they fell silent. Its brushes trailing
new powers, new creations, before it all disappeared from before his eyes – never to return.
“Is that so?”
In a blink of an eye, all three of them leap forward – Dazai aiming for Shibusawa’s neck,
Kouyou disappearing among the falling petals only to reappear behind the dragon, her blade
aimed right across to where the kitsune hopes to make his cut.
Meanwhile, Hirotsu’s webs extend from his fingers, dozens of smaller knives dangling from
them as they shoot towards Shibusawa’s tail, wrapping around it to keep it away from the
other two.
There isn’t enough time, or space, for Shibusawa to jump away even if he wanted to – so, he
doesn’t. Instead, the dragon stands still, watching the kitsune getting closer and closer…
“Yes.” He says when the two blades meet his skin—
“It is so.”
—or rather, his scales.
With a loud cling, Dazai and Kouyou’s blades bounce off from the blue scales that covered
Shibusawa’s neck a second before the swords could cut his flesh. He hasn’t moved a finger to
defend himself against the attack. Even his hair remains untouched, only bending around the
swords without ever being cut.
Without hesitation, Dazai’s grip tightens as he starts to swing his sword at Shibusawa’s head
instead, but before he can do it, the dragon shakes the webs off from his tail and—
SWOOSH!
Both Dazai and Kouyou jump back, avoiding the deadly scales that would crush their bones
in an instant.
“Is that enough for you?” The dragon asks, glancing between the two of them. “You can’t—”
Shibusawa’s eyes narrow when he sees the kitsune's satisfied smirk.
“Yeah—” The fox muses, his fangs flashing dangerously from behind his lips.
It’s faint, barely there, but there’s a sting under the dragon’s jaw and a single drop of violet
blood trailing down his skin until it reaches the blue scales.
“—It is.”
Even if it was for less than a second, even if it’s not exactly Dazai’s blade that has reached
him but the pressured air of its swing – it worked. They can hurt Shibusawa, it’s just not that
easy to find an opening. But they can and they will.
Neither of them wastes any time to take joy in the small victory. The moment Hirotsu’s webs
shoot towards the dragon again, wrapping around his body and arms, Dazai and Kouyou try
again.
More reserved than before, careful despite his previous words, Shibusawa doesn’t wait until
the last moment. Instead, he swings his tail at them as soon as they’re his rage, watching their
movements carefully. Kouyou’s sword grazes the underside of his tail, not enough to pierce
through the scales, or actually hurt him, but enough to slow the movement down.
Taking advantage of the opening, Dazai sends his brightest flames through his blade. He’ll
cut and he’ll burn Shibusawa’s flesh and—
SNAP!
CLING!
Freeing one arm from Hirotsu’s webs, Shibusawa uses it to shield himself from the attack.
The white kimono rips under Dazai’s sword, but there isn’t even the smallest cut left behind
on the scales under it.
“I can see your resolve, young fox.”
When Kouyou appears right behind him, Shibusawa turns his head towards her. He’s met
with a storm of petals and a single figure among them, a gold shine flashing as her sword cuts
the air towards him—
“And yours too, young flower.”
—but just like Dazai’s flames, it never reaches him.
“But it’s foolish.”
Short, water blades shoot towards them from under Shibusawa’s feet, a cloud of mist burning
the webs away from around his body and making both demons jump away. It looks just like
the mist clouding the space on the other side of the water barrier, but it smells different.
Infused with a spell, hot. Hotter than even Dazai’s flames, like it’s not mist but the white
smoke of a raging fire, instead.
“I have no desire to hurt you.” Shibusawa says, the end of his sleeve falling to the ground
after Dazai’s flames burnt through the material, and his red eyes dart to the fox. “Not even
you.”
“Too bad.” The kitsune snarls. “Because I really want to hurt you.” Almost just as bad as he
wants to get Chuuya back.
“I told you already, you can’t—”

Then, Shibusawa’s eyes widen for a split second, narrowing again as he looks down on
himself and his clothes…
“I hold much respect towards gods, both old and new.” Kouyou’s voice sings as she circles
the dragon, sliding her finger across her sword’s blade, and Shibusawa’s eyes turn to her at
the sound of it. “But it’s rude to be looking down on your opponents, elder dragon.” Her
smile is that of a poisonous flower, tempting and with a promise of pain hiding in its beauty.
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
Their blades haven’t reached him, but her petals did, ignored by the dragon until their poison
sank into his clothes and body. They leave burnt out holes in the material, and while not
every petal leaves a mark on Shibusawa’s scales—
Some of them do.
Faint, darkened spots scatter across his tail when gold melts into black.
“...”
SWOOSH!
Dazai’s sword slides along one of Shibusawa’s enlarged claws. The dragon’s other hand
grabs one of the kitsune’s tails and throws the fox to the side.
“...my apologies, young flower.” The dragon says, devoid of sarcasm and sounding oddly…
honest. “It won’t happen again.”
SPLAAASH!
Turning his body while still in air, Dazai’s claws sink into the still water of the ground,
breaking the surface and splashing it around as his body comes to a stop.
Shibusawa’s eye twitches when Hirotsu appears behind him, the knives carried by his webs
aimed at where Kouyou’s petals left the most damage. Even if they can’t sink fully into the
hard scales, they must hurt.
Reaching towards his tail, Shibusawa grabs the webs and yanks them off of his body in a
single snap of his arm. He narrows his eyes at Hirotsu, shaking any of the remaining knives
off.
“You belong to someone.” It’s not a question, merely a simple statement. “Another god’s
servant shouldn’t be meddling with what doesn’t involve their followers.”
Because if they’re not careful, there is a price to pay.
Hirotsu straightens his back, rubbing one of his wrists with one hand. “I was asked by my
god to assist here, Shibusawa–sama.”
(And if those words make Dazai halt for a split second, the kitsune doesn’t let it show, only
pushes that thought away for another time. Should that time ever be allowed to come.)
Shibusawa hums, but the other two don’t let him rest. The onslaught of blades and petals, of
flames and webs fills the air with high–pitched clangs and whistles of the air being cut by
each of the attacks.
The webs snap and shoot again.
The blades meet the cold scales until their marks are left on the blue crystals covering
Shibusawa’s body, however faint. But it doesn’t come easy. Nothing ever does.
Shibusawa may not be as fast as them, but his instincts are sharp, polished by the much
longer time he’s been around, compared to any of them. His claws are sharp, even the
smallest graze leaving bloodied lines on their bodies, and a single blow of his tail is enough
to break several bones at once. They can’t just blindly attack whenever they see an opening,
because it may be the end for them.
With a thin trail of blood streaming down his face and at least one broken tail, Dazai glances
at the water prison that seals his human away. He hates it and he hates how he doesn’t know
what’s going on inside. He can sense Chuuya being alive and awake, but that’s it.
The connection between them has been stretched too thin to allow him into Chuuya’s soul,
especially when he has to focus on something else and when the redhead is separated from
him by the spell. He thinks Chuuya is trying to reach for him, trying to peek into his soul, but
—
SWOOSH!
—Dazai doesn’t have the time to focus on any of it, or he’ll lose a limb. Or his head.
What makes it even worse, is that Shibusawa doesn’t look half as injured as the rest of them.
The faint, burnt marks don’t seem to bother him anymore, and while their swords did manage
to make him bleed from several cuts, the wounds heal faster than they can inflict more.
He barely moves from his spot, too. He doesn’t initiate attacks, only sparring theirs – not
intent on killing any of them, but without much care for the injuries he inflicts. Shibusawa,
he… looks tired. Not physically, it’s more like the fight is draining his mind instead of his
body.
But Dazai doesn’t care about peeking into the dragon’s mind. That is, of course, until
something shifts in the air around him and—
Shibusawa freezes.
It’s only for a second, but his eyes widen, a bright spark of anger so pure and sane, for once,
flashing inside the red orbs.
The waters stir again. The air grows colder as white mist covers the dragon’s feet.
“I’ll give you one last chance—” When he speaks, it’s not empty anymore. It’s a held–back
growl, a low rumble that shakes the world around them. “Leave.”
His words resonate in their bones, old and powerful, but neither of them moves. They’ve
come here for Chuuya and they are not leaving without him, no matter what—
“...fine.” Shibusawa straightens his back, his eyes scarlet with anger. “Then you leave me no
other choice.”
Dazai lips twitch, his tails stir behind him and his fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword,
because—
The mist around Shibusawa’s feet grows thicker, the water under him more violent and the
red flash of his eyes drowns in the sea of azure crystals. Water swirls around his body,
growing bigger and bigger, until Shibusawa’s body cannot be seen anymore. The air blows
around them in a violent storm and they all have to fall back when the water’s raging arms
come too close. Once it all falls to the ground, spalding all around them in pouring waves…
Shibusawa’s human body is gone.
Instead, there’s a huge actual dragon before them. With blue scales of a deep ocean covering
his body, and white patterns trailing down his spine. With a sharp, black horn on his forehead
and blazing eyes of late sunset.
Its long body spirals around the ruins where Chuuya is waiting, around Dazai and Kouyou
and Hirotsu – it’s everywhere around them. And the white smoke coming from its jaw burns
Dazai’s skin even from here, reminding the kitsune that—
Ah, he really hoped they would have killed him before this happened.
Swords against claws.
Bared fangs.
Wolves switching form with every move, with Atsushi’s white fur flashing among the dark
clouds.
It was Atsushi against the girl, then it was Ryuu who seeked revenge for his sister and now…
“I see someone here is holding a grudge, huh?” Teruko’s smirk doesn waver when Gin’s
dagger cuts the air a hairwidth from her throat.
She spins around, aiming with the hilt of her sword for the other girl’s back, but Gin is faster,
twisting her body to avoid the hit.
“But it’s not really fair, is it?” Teruko chirps, jumping away when a fanged jaw tries to close
around her leg. “I wasn’t trying to kill you back then, only immobilise for a moment.”
When she straightens again, the wolf is a girl again. Gin’s eyes are dark and focused, her hair
blowing in the faint breeze. “You had your orders, and I have mine.”
“Orders?” Teruko muses, amused, when Gin leaps towards her.
She avoids the blade by turning her body and sparring it with her sword, but it’s only a
second too late that he realises Gin has two daggers, one in each hand. One of Teruko’s hands
flies from the hilt of the sword to grab Gin’s wrist, but the dagges has already grazed her
stomach, however shallow—
“It looks to me like you’re enjoying this, little girl.”
“Don’t call me that.” With one leg firmly on the ground, Gin side kicks Teruko in the
stomach until the hand gripping at her wrists loosens. Whilst in the air, the girl’s body morphs
into a wolf to cushion the fall.
“What else, then?” She teases, spitting out blood as she turns back into her human–form.
“Should I call you Gin–chan, instead?”
Gin sends her a glare and a dagger, but Teruko doesn’t let it reach her. Instead, she leaps back
at her, low above the ground and with every intention for the sword to cut through Gin’s
flesh.
“I think I like that.” Even though she misses, with Gin’s dagger swiftly sliding down her
sword to change its trajectory, her smile does fade. “Gin–chan~”
“Argh—!” Gin doesn’t seem bothered, but Teruko’s head snaps towards where the voice is
coming from only to see…
“JOUNO!” Twisting his body, Tetchou kicks Atsushi to the side when the tiger is distracted
and leaps at—
Ryuu. In his wolf form. With his jaw clenched around Jouno’s side.
Blood taints Jouno’s kimono and drops from Ryuu’s fangs when the wolf jumps away,
avoiding Tetchou’s sword by an inch.
“It’s…” The white wolf presses one hand to his stomach, keeping his sword in the other.
“...nothing.”
The situation, it’s not ideal. The constant changing forms, the distant noises and scents of a
battle – it’s confusing Jouno, distracting his senses to the point where his movements slow
down enough for the attacks to reach him.
Tetchou’s injuries.
Teruko’s blood.
Shibusawa’s…
It’s all around him, and together with their opponents mixes scents and emotions – it’s too
much all at once. It took less than a second of being distracted for Ryuu to sink his fangs into
Jouno’s body, and now it’s only a matter of time before blood loss takes its toll on him.
“But you’re—!”
Jingle!
Pushing Tetchou to the side, Jouno blocks Atsushi’s claws with his sword, jumping away
once the tiger falls back. His blood flows to the ground, mixing into the water under them.
“Focus on your own surroundings before—”
And that’s when it reaches them. The freezing blow of air and the burning mist right after.
The ground’s trembling and the sound of a roar like no other—
“...shit.” For the first time, Teruko’s smile disappears. She jumps past Gin and towards the
other two, creating more distance between herself, Jouno and Tetchou, and the other three.
“Now, you’ve done it.”
Atsushi looks somewhat confused and shaken, Gin’s pointed glare never leaves Teruko, and
Ryuu…
“Not fond of your own Master?” He turns back into his human form, but with his ears and
tail still visible.
Tetchou’s glare turns furious, blind with anger. “YOU—!”
“We are.” Teruko stops him both with her words and one arm extended to the side, keeping
him from jumping at Ryuu’s throat. “But this?”
Her smirk reappears, but it’s different – less amused, and more conflicted. Uncertain. Scared,
even.
“This will end bad.”
She glances towards the blue dragon, whose body, like this, is extremely close to them
despite the distance between the two battle grounds.
“For everyone.”
Chapter End Notes
NSFJLSKJFSFMWJFP;SMDWPDPWJFKJFNS as a fantasy/rpg/games/etc nerd, I

really enjoyed this chapter SFJLKWJFLKWEMDLKSMDWKEJDLWKMLS
A Dance Of Flames
Chapter Notes
This is bad.
It’s nothing Dazai hasn’t considered before, because he knew well enough that it was a
possibility all along, but…
This is very bad.
Shibusawa’s dragon form makes him even more durable and dangerous, even if it also makes
him slower. His scales are much thicker and sharper like this, and even if their swords
somehow manage to pierce through them, the blood they draw won’t be enough to seriously
injure the dragon. Not to mention—
Dazai jumps to the side, the ends of his tails briefly catching fire before he puts it out with a
swift motion.
—dragons’ flames are much more dangerous than kitsunes’, or anyone else's. They burn
through everything standing in their path.
Dragons are the masters of fire, no matter their home domain. They’re inferno incarnate, even
if Shibusawa’s entire being flows with the waves of the oldest oceans. The first flames carved
their souls, burnt the dragons into existence at the wish of a blazing force that had bestowed
light upon the worlds.
They are impossible to defeat, or so it’s believed. Because many have tried in the past,
blinded by foolish bravery and arrogance, and no one ever survived to tell the tale.
But just as they were born to wield the power like no other, dragons were also meant to
protect all that their eyes could reach. They’re the oldest gods that still remain, birthed by
Fate after the fall of the ancient ones. If the first gods raged over the worlds, unstoppable and
absolute in their pride, dragons were meant to overlook the healing that would follow – make
sure that the balance is kept, for as long as they would be allowed to stay.
Only, that is not the image that paints itself before Dazai’s eyes. Shibusawa doesn’t seem to
care about anything around him, destroying everything in his path with his fire and the
smallest twists of his long body. The water prison is the only thing keeping Chuuya safe from
the falling ruins and the rain of fire, or from the high waves disturbed from the ground with
the dragon’s each movement.
Dazai doesn’t know what it was that made Shibusawa snap and choose to take this form – he
could name a dozen reasons if he’d put his mind into it, but he doesn’t really care about it.
What the kitsune does care about, however, is how Shibusawa’s behaviour changed once he
revealed his true self.
It’s not the well–aimed strikes anymore, there’s no thought behind any of Shibusawa’s
attacks. There’s only anger in every attack, in every twist of the long body. His collected –
even if a bit too calm, almost as if, among the madness of it all, Shibusawa’s mind couldn’t
fathom the whole situation – demeanour from before seems to be gone completely.
It’s sizzling roars that pierce through the air, not a fallen god’s words.
It’s insanity’s flame that burns in his eyes, more than anything else.
If Dazai was anyone else, if it didn’t put the one person he loves above the world itself at
risk, he’d find it almost… saddening. To see a being so mighty and graceful fall so low. But
he isn’t anyone else and the hatred that burns his chest from inside out leaves no space for
compassion.
While Shibusawa’s mindless attacks give Dazai, Kouyou and Hirotsu the advantage of not
only speed but also tactic, predicting attacks of a beast is like a guessing game. And
sometimes—
SWOOSH!
CRASH!
THUD!
“ARGH!”
—sometimes, even Dazai’s guesses turn out to be wrong.
Kouyou’s flowers and his own tails cushion the impact to some extent, but Dazai can still feel
his ribs cracking as he slides down the fallen column, coughing up blood. He jumped away
from Shibusawa’s tail quick enough to avoid having been smashed into another life, but the
tip of it still reached him, sending the fox flying with a force of hurricane waves.
The grip around his sword is weak, but he doesn’t let go just yet, even if every move of his
muscles sends a shock of pain through his entire body.
“Can you stand?” At some point, Kouyou’s elegant hairstyle was blown away by one of
Shibusawa’s attacks, long red strands now freely falling on her back and shoulders. Her
clothes aren’t as burnt away as Dazai’s, but there’s blood on them as well as on her face.
“...didn’t you say it yourself, lethal flower?” Dazai’s grin doesn’t falter even when each word
comes with a trail of blood falling from his lips. Slowly, with the help of his sword, the
kitsune stands up and… “To never underestimate others?”
“I did.” Kouyou quirks a brow, a few more drops of red flowing out of the cut over her eye.
“But looking at you right now only makes me pity your poor bones.”
Spitting out blood, Dazai chuckles darkly to himself. “You don’t look much better than me.”
Then, he glances to the sides, his brows frowned. “Hirotsu…?”
“He’s distracting Shibusawa.” Her lips twitch. “Or the dragon has just decided to deal with
him first, who knows. But he’s still breathing and moving.”
Among the three of them, Hirotsu has the advantage of having not only powerful but also
long range attacks, which helps him stay far enough from the fire to avoid some of the
injuries Dazai and Kouyou couldn't. He can use the dragon’s body to move around faster,
more swiftly, wrapping his webs around the sharps spikes and following Shibusawa’s own
movements, but…
“He won’t last.” Dazai’s thoughts slip away before he can stop them.
There’s only so much the spider demon can do, so far he can go in this world the dragon
created for himself. No matter how well Hirotsu can command his powers and how
dangerous he can be, fighting in an open space like this, with barely anything to attach his
webs to – he’s at a disadvantage. Everything in this dimension, from the open space to the
waters under their feet, is here to aid Shibusawa, not them.
Kouyou lets out a sigh at that. “Will any of us, really?”
“I warned you it—”
“I know.” Brushing the hair falling on her face away, the spirit glances at him, her eyes
dancing with golden sparkles that know no fear. “And I told you not to bother about my
relationship with Death, fox.” She muses. “I still stand by it.”
If he could, Dazai would laugh, but it would only push his broken ribs deeper into his
punctured lungs and that’s less than ideal for now. Instead, he offers her a smirk and a weak
nod as he gestures to the dragon with his sword in a mockingly polite manner. “After you,
then.”
Kouyou huffs. “Being a gentleman doesn’t suit you.” But with only a satisfied grin as a reply
to her words, the spirit leaps forward once more, Dazai right behind her.
They both join Hirotsu, lashing out an attack one after another at the dragon, barely leaving
any scratches on the blue scales, let alone drawing blood. There’s only so fast their healing
abilities can work, only so fast bodies with broken bones and severe blood loss can move.
When they attack by themselves, it distracts the dragon, earning them a second or two to
cause as much damage as possible, or at least try to reach Shibusawa’s vital points. But it also
means that once the dragon makes up his mind, the person he chooses to attack will be facing
the blazing fury alone and that, in turn, comes with a risk of losing one of them – of risking it
being a two–on–one fight, instead of three–on–one.
When they try to do it together, though… Surprisingly – or maybe it really isn’t? after all this
time – Kouyou has no trouble with synchronising her movements with Dazai’s, and neither
does Hirotsu. The man has seen him train for many, many years in the past, even if this is one
of the very few times Dazai sees him in actual combat. But those strategies force them to
attack too closely to each other, making it easier for Shibusawa’s tail to reach them all at
once.
They end up trying both, switching between different plans while understanding each other
with a single glance, but to no avail. Shibusawa has both the primal fire blossoming in his
body and the waters that surround them at his command. None of the injuries they manage to
inflict seem to bother him in the slightest, as if they were nothing more than insignificant
scratches. The spikes on his body drip with not his blood, but with theirs – Hirotsu’s snapped
webs loosely hanging from some, white fur and bloodied petals sticking to the dragon’s body.
He had no desire to hurt them, is what Shibusawa has said before but, clearly, that is not the
case anymore. On purpose or blinded by madness, the fallen god doesn’t seem to be willing
to let them go, or at least rest. He’s out for blood and kill and—
It’s him, or them.
Only one side can win this and… it will likely be as the tales have warned them.
Being blinded by pain and lured to a dragon’s den by hatred, it could only ever end one way.
Dazai knew it before they came here, he simply didn’t care, and he knows it now. He can feel
strength evaporate from his body, the tremble of his fingers making it impossible to hold onto
his sword.
His vision is blurred, red with blood and dark with shadows trying to loosen his grip over his
consciousness. The healing only slows with every second, breathing doesn’t come as easily
as it did before. He has come here for one thing and one thing only – to get Chuuya, or to die
trying – and, now, Dazai can see it.
He tried and he would try all over again no matter how many times it would take. But in the
end, it has already been decided – they are all meant to die while following an impossible
pursuit.
Him, Kouyou, Hirotsu… Ryuu and Gin may stand a chance at running away if Atsushi
forces them to, but the kitsune fears the siblings won’t let themselves be saved if it means
leaving him to die. They’re too loyal for that, too grateful for the life they were given under
his eyes.
How foolish, truly.
How… sad.
For them, for Atsushi, and for everyone else who has come to care for them.
It’s not until Dazai finds himself kneeling on the ground, his blood dripping onto the water’s
surface and heavy panting making him feel dizzy, that it happens.
Hirotsu is sitting by the fallen pillar, bleeding from where the dragon’s claws managed to
reach him and weakly moving his fingers to direct the webs still tangled around the huge
body in one last, futile attempt at fighting. While Kouyou…
She’s trying to keep the dragon’s attention on herself to give Dazai more time to get it
together again, but she’s visibly tired. Hurt all over, even if her pride refuses to show it. She’s
at the verge of stumbling to the ground the same way the two of them did, Dazai can see it in
her slowed down movement when—
SPLASH!
RUMBLE!
The water prison explodes in an outburst of black–red fire and in the middle of it…
“...Chuuya?”
“Oh, no, you aren’t.”
Ryuu’s wolf–form and Gin’s human body stand in the way between them and Shibusawa,
growling at the three of them. Behind them, the tiger is silently observing their every move.
He isn’t moving to attack just yet, instead waiting for them to provoke any sort of reaction
from him, or for Ryuu to give a signal.
“You stay here.” He snarls, taking a step forward.
“You don’t understand.”
Teruko hisses out the words with a hint of desperation she hoped to have gotten rid of long
ago. She hates it, but in moments like those, there is no helping the shiver that takes over her
body at the thought of—
“I don’t care.” Both Ryuu and Gin leap at them at the same time. “You’re staying here.”
“Dazai!”
He knows the kitsune is there, but he can’t see him, not clearly. The water is obstructing his
view, making every image blurred and every sound muffled, but he knows the kitsune is
there. Even if it was only for a split second, Chuuya saw him. And Kouyou. And Hirotsu—
Feeling a new wave of hope wash over him, Chuuya struggles against the shackle’s hold,
wishing for them to be weakened while Shibusawa is distracted, but the water chains don’t so
much as budge. The only thing Chuuya accomplished was make the rip in the material
around his neck to widen while the redhead all but forgot about it.
Get it off.
Let me out.
He can’t see what’s happening but, somewhere deep, Chuuya can feel it. He squeezes his
eyes and tries to focus, to reach for Dazai through the darkness of what was once a bright
path between their souls. It’s not obvious anymore, but if he tries hard enough, he can feel…
Anger. Frustration. Annoyance.
…doubt?
Is that… pain?
When the stone bed under him shakes and a low rumble rips through the water’s surface and
the air, Chuuya’s eyes snap open, surprised and frightened.
Get it off.
Let me out.
“What—?!”
He can’t actually see it through the barrier, but there’s so much movement on the other side,
something blue and huge growing high to the sky and all around.
Get it off.
Let me out.
Another shake, then a beastial roar vibrates through every inch of Chuuya’s body. The air
around him heats up and while it’s not too difficult to breathe, Chuuya’s racing heart is
making it difficult to stay calm.
Get it off.
Let me out.
There’s pain everywhere he searches, everytime he thinks his soul’s fingers graze Dazai’s—
There’s so much pain.
Get it off.
Let me out.
He’s hurt, badly, and it’s getting worse.
Get it off.
Let me out.
His presence grows even weaker than before, fainter as it slips from Chuuya’s fingers.
Get it off.
Let me out.
All while Chuuya is here and can’t do anything to help him, to—
Get it off.
Let me out.
—to save him.
Get it off.
Let me out.
Because at his rate, Dazai is going to die.
Get it off.
Let me out.
Chuuya can feel it, the way the kitsune’s soul slowly stops struggling to fight anymore.
Get it off.
Let me out.
He’s being useless, Chuuya.
Get it off.
Let me out.
A burden.
Get it off.
Let me out.
He was supposed to die and, instead, it’ll be Dazai.
Get it off.
Let me out.
Because of Chuuya.
Get it off.
Let me out.
And—
Get it off.
Let me out.
Get it off.
Let me out.
…get it off.
Dazai—
LET ME OUT!
SNAP!
“...Chuuya?”
Or… not?
It’s not the ground that he’s standing on, but the flames that lay his path out for him. His eyes
are mindless, all white and without a single spark of the endless skies Dazai knows so well.
His lips are twisted into a wicked grin and his skin…
There are crimson marks flowing under the sickly pale canvas, alive and bright, swirling
around Chuuya’s body like chains of madness, like liquid fire flowing under his skin.
The spell around his neck – it’s gone.
“Chu—” A coughing fit shakes Dazai’s body as more blood flows into his lungs.
The redhead can’t hear him like this, but even if he could – what would it help?
‘Is he even breathing?’, Dazai wonders to himself as he watches the body of his husband fly
into the air, the balck flames surrounding him like a halo, an orb of darkness—
Like balck wings, carrying a mortal body high off the ground.
It’s quiet when the dragon notices, turning his head away from Kouyou to stare at the silent
figure and—
Shibusawa’s tail swings at Chuuya's body suspended in the air.
Then, there’s blood.
So much of it—
But it’s Shibusawa’s blood, his pained roar shaking the world around them. There’s a gaping
hole at the end of his tail and rivers of violet liquid flowing out of it, a rip that human hands
could have never left alone, and yet…
Right above it, Chuuya is laughing.
Dazai can only stare with wide, disbelieving eyes as the red markings claim the redhead’s
body. He can only hear how his voice rings with that of a mindless beast, so similar to
Shibusawa’s roars and, yet, different. Not as blindly furious, but more amused, satisfied,
thrilled.
More… sickening.
It’s Chuuya’s body that coughs out blood as it surges forward, right at the dragon.
But it’s not Chuuya’s mind that is behind it, no.
Because the Chuuya Dazai knows cannot move, or think, or even scream for himself—
He can only feel the pain that comes with unleashing the powers that have been locked inside
of him, and fight with the monsters within… or let them win.
SPLASH!
RUMBLE!
ROAR!
Everyone’s head snaps towards the dragon, their bodies frozen in surprise as the sound
vibrates through their bones. Tetchou’s eyes widen, Jouno’s brows climb high, Teruko’s grip
around her sword falters for a moment. Then—
“MASTER!” They all call out as they leap towards the dragon, their opponents long
forgotten.
…but the Akutagawa siblings and Atsushi are right behind them, not having forgotten about
their orders.
The dragon roars in pain and twists its body, moving its tail away from Chuuya and the dark
flames. White smoke starts to flow out from between the sharp fangs, a hissing sound
whistling through air right before a column of fire shoots from Shibusawa's throat. Dazai can
feel its heat from here, frozen in place and unable to move his body as he watches Chuuya
getting swallowed by it, the purple fire meeting the splashing water and sending clouds of
white vapour into the air—
But once the flames stop, standing on the ground in a circle of boiling water – the redhead is
still there. Alive.
He isn’t hurt, only the very ends of his clothes having been burnt, but whatever force is
playing with his mind right now—
Dazai can’t tell if the thing moving Chuuya’s body is angry, or thrilled to have been subjected
to the flames older and hotter than anything else that still exists in this world.
(Or is it? Does whatever has taken over Chuuya’s mind find it cold, compared to the past it
once reigned over?)
The boy’s lips are stretched into a grin so wide it must hurt. His snarls fall into laughter as he
bends his knees and jumps towards Shibusawa – faster than a demon, faster than the eye can
see.
Black, flame–arms shoot towards the dragon, clawing at his body and ripping the blue scales
off of it and red sparks fall from the wings fluttering behind Chuuya’s back. They wrap
around the dragon’s body, right under his head, and squeeze, claws that could match
Shibusawa’s digging into his body and making growing cracks in the blue scales.
Another roar cuts the air, vibrations shaking the ground, but then—
Shibusawa’s tail swings at his own neck, hitting the redhead’s body and throwing it far to the
side. The claws around his neck and the black wings disperse at the impack, only the streams
of violet blood left behind as a statement of Chuuya’s attack.
Dazai wants to scream, he wants to run after him and stop the redhead before it’s too late,
before the dragon manages to crush his body and despite the powers that he himself put
within Chuuya—
But he can’t.
His body can’t take the strain of the injuries, his healing isn’t fast enough, his limbs just won’t
move. Kouyou isn’t any better, kneeling on the ground too far from the kitsune and bleeding
out from cuts scattered all over her body, choking on it when the blood floods her lungs. Her
eyes are wide in shock as she stares after Chuuya, similar disbelief and fears to the kitsune’s
painted all over her face.
Dazai needs to move, he has to—
Or not.
Because just as fast as Shibusawa’s strike has blown him away from the kitsune's sight, the
redhead comes back again, unscratched. Wicked laughter fills the air with madness when
Chuuya’s whole body hits the dragon, shattering some of the scales as a river of violet blood
flows out of its body. Shibusawa bares his rows of sharp teeth at him, trying to bite the boy in
half—
“MASTER!”
The distant screams get through to Dazai through the ringing in his ears.
Shibusawa’s wolves run towards the dragon, with the Akutagawa siblings and Atsushi
chasing after them, and their screams – they catch Chuuya’s attention, however briefly. The
boy’s body turns in the air, white orbs of unseeing eyes staring towards them and…
Looking away from the dragon.
Just as one of the black flame–wings straightens and the redhead is ready to dive at the
wolves, Shibusawa’s mouth closes around him, sealing the redhead behind strong fangs—
“CHUUYA!”
—and Dazai can’t do anything other than watch it happen, the redhead’s name burning his
tongue with desperation as he tries to leap forward, but only ends up falling to the ground
again.
Even from this distance, Teruko can see the small figure suspended in air, with flames of
black and red enveloping his body like a beast’s embrace. She and the others stare at the
scene before them, eyes wide as they witness what they thought was the plan.
But it’s the sight of Shibusawa’s body that freezes theri blood and punches air out of their
lungs. Broken or fallen to the ground scales, literal rivers of blood flowing out of his body
with no end. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it was meant to be.
“MASTER!”
Teruko’s voice comes out on its own, just like Tetchou and Jouno’s. They know it won’t
work, they know Shibusawa can’t actually hear them, can’t recognise who they are anymore,
but—
The body of what they thought was human turns to them, the red markings crawling under
Chuuya’s skin and the wicked grin of something mindless inside of him as he stretches his
wing enough to make the wolves halt. They can’t help it, their instincts are stronger than their
minds. They come to a stop just as the dragon’s jaws snap closed around the black flames and
—
That second of hesitation is enough for the other three to catch up to them once more.
Anger replaces the blood Dazai has lost, the black lines hiding beneath his bandages coming
to life with blasts of blue light. His eye turns bloody red. The grip around the hilt of his
sword tightens so much, he’s sure some of the bones in his hand just broke, but—
Before his legs move on the destructive instincts, shock halts his movements once again
when he sees it happening.
Black flames shoot from between the dragon’s teeth, followed by a waterfall of purple blood.
Shibusawa’s jaw loosens its grip on a pained snarl, his neck tilting back and snapping
forward again as the dragon spits out…
“CHUU—” Dazai has to support himself on his sword before he loses balance, his knees
giving out under the weight of his own body. “...y–ya!”
The water splashes around where the redhead’s body landed, purple seeping into the crystal
clear surface. Chuuya lays in the middle of it, laughing maniacally as blood flows out of his
mouth and blind eyes. Shibusawa didn’t injure him, but… something’s wrong. Dazai can
sense it.
The powers he’s unleashing – Chuuya’s body can’t withstand them, slowly breaking down
with every move and every blow he throws at the dragon. The flames that kiss his skin begin
to burn it, black fire leaving black trails over the red ones. The red markings leave cuts and
bruises in their wake, twisting the boy’s body unnaturally.
But it’s almost as if Chuuya doesn’t notice it, getting up again and leaping at the dragon at
full speed only to be blown to the side when Shibusawa’s tail shoots through the air.
Every time, Chuuya gets back up with a madman’s grin.
Every time, his movements grow slower as he’s running out of strength—
Out of life.
…he has to stop him.
Dazai has to do something before it’s too late.
For the both of them.
The more blood he loses, the more dizzy Jouno gets, his senses numb. Tetchou got injured
while pushing him out of the way of Ryuu’s claws, and while it’s not as severe as his own
wound, it won’t be long before one of them makes a mistake.
The longer it goes on, the more aggressive the Akutagawa siblings become in their attacks,
all while the three of them are distracted because of what’s going on with Shibusawa and the
redhead. Avoiding attacks doesn’t come easy anymore, they’re all tired and—
“WATCH OUT!”
Jouno’s head snaps towards the two boiling auras of murderous intent aim right at him, but
the wound on his side makes his body give out under him in the worst possible moment,
knees hitting the ground.
The tiger is keeping Teruko occupied and Tetchou dropped his sword right before, snapped
out of his hand by one of Gin’s attacks. He won’t be able to make it to the weapon and to him
in time and if he does choose to stand in the wolves’ way unarmed and already injured—
“DON’T—”
“JOUNO!”
Willing his body into standing up, Dazai reaches with one hand behind the folds of his
loosened clothes, patting the small pocket where he keeps the black, spell–infused material.
He always carries them around in case the spell around Chuuya’s neck breaks again and, once
again, it turns out to be the wise choice, but the problem is—
How does he get close enough to Chuuya to put it on?
The redhead never stays long in one place, always flying high again with a madman’s
laughter ripping from his throat and black–red flames carrying out his destructive wishes.
Even while on the verge of his body giving up and breaking down, he’s faster than Dazai, and
the kitsune can’t follow him if he flies from the ground, not to mention Shibusawa’s
slithering body and flames cascading all around them.
Dazai will have to catch Chuuya somehow, all while avoiding the dragon’s body, and if that
in itself isn’t enough of a challenge – the redhead doesn’t react to any of his screams, be it
pleas slipping from Dazai’s lips or heart.
He and the dragon seem to be focused solely on each other, destroying everything around
them without much care – as if no one else existed. Not Dazai. Not Kouyou. Not Hirotsu. No
one.
Which only makes it more difficult to find an opening—
“WATCH OUT!”
It’s a voice Dazai doesn’t pay any attention to, a wolf’s cry he couldn’t care less about if not
for the face that—
Shibusawa’s jaw freezes half–opened, ready to blast his flames at the crater made by the
impact of Chuuya’s fall, a force that has managed to reshape even the waters under them. It’s
brief, but Dazai thinks he sees a single spark of recognition in the dragon’s clouded eyes.
A second of hesitation.
A heartbeat of silence—
SWOOSH!
The dragon’s head snaps to the side, his tail shooting towards where the wolves and Atsushi
are fighting and sending the Akutagawa siblings flying towards the destroyed ruins in the
distance a second before they can sink their fangs into the other two wolves’ throats.
“RYUU! GIN!”
He can hear Atsushi’s screams, but the kitsune doesn’t have the time to see for himself how
badly hurt they are. They’re too far from him anyway, and his vision is too blurred to focus
on anything other than Chuuya. If he can get to the boy while Shibusawa is still distracted…
But before Dazai can force his body to move, the redhead is already getting up from the
ground. Black flames erupt around the boy, and the dragon turns back to him.
“CHUUYA!”
Chuuya’s blood seems to float around him as the fight rages on, a pained roar shaking the air
when the dark flames burn out one of the dragon’s eyes.
Every inch of Dazai’s body screams in pain when the kitsune runs towards them. In the
distance, Atsushi reaches the Akutagawa siblings, while all three of Shibusawa’s servants get
to their feet once more and head towards the fight—
“MASTER!”
Not even for a second does the maniacal laughter stop. Not even when it comes out choked,
forced out around the blood flowing down Chuuya’s throat.
Not even when…
Chapter End Notes
A random update because twitter shadowbanned me because I posted too much fluff in
one day and now can't update the thread for the next 72h now? Yes.
Am I pissed? Also yes.
But, hey, I got time to edit this bit so~
Technically, this and the next bit could go together, but it would make the chapter WAY
too long for me to edit at once, so I split that in two :3 Thursday's update will be posted
as scheduled tho! This one is just a small treat
The Time Lost
Chapter Summary
Juuuust something important for this chapter:

In this world, kitsunes’ mental ages and physical appearances are equivalent to human
ages as follows:
1 tail = up to 6 y/o
3 tails = 10 y/o
4 tails = 13 y/o
5 tails = 15/16 y/o
7 tails = 18/19 y/o
9 tails = full on adult mode
Chapter Notes
In the end, it all happens both too fast and so painfully slow.
The wolves’ screams, Chuuya turning to them, Shibusawa ready to strike with sharp teeth
and—
The redhead doesn’t notice – or maybe doesn’t care – how the dragon’s jaw snaps at him
once more, when a black orb forms in the palm of his hand. Growing bigger and darker as the
sight of it fills every eyes looking upon it with fear. Blood spills from his mouth and
spiralling cuts tear the skin around his arm, smaller flames burning from underneath his skin.
The dark orb flies towards the wolves, Chuuya’s blank eyes maniacally focused on it and his
arm hanging freely at his side, the bones inside of it shattered into pieces too small to hold its
weight anymore. Dazai watches as Shibusawa’s teeth almost reach the redhead, almost
cutting him in half while the boy doesn’t do anything to defend himself when—
At the last second, something Dazai never predicted to happen happens.
He’s seen madness and anger, he felt the kiss of revenge on his skin and witnessed eyes
losing their light in a hopeless fight with the darkness tainting them. He saw how Shibusawa
lost the last bits of his composure, how he didn’t care about the destruction around him
anymore, and yet—
Despite all of that, at the last second, the dragon’s body moves. Not to snap his jaws at
Chuuya, not to burn him in the old fire, or strike him with his tail, no. At that time,
Shibusawa’s body moves towards the wolves.
Towards the black orb that flies straight at them.

And as time seems to slow down around him, Dazai can’t help but frown to himself, because
he doesn’t understand. No matter what Shibusawa does, it won’t be enough to save them and
get Chuuya when the boy is weakened, dragons aren’t fast enough, unless…
Dazai’s eye widens as realisation sinks into his bones.
Unless he doesn’t plan to get to him.
Purple flames explode around Shibusawa’s jaws as they stop the black orb still in the air
before it can reach its targets. Violet blood flows out in rivers streaming down from the
dragon’s mouth and from under his scales as his body can’t take the strain of fighting back
the spell. His entire body trembles, pushed further back by the impact of the orb that
swallows every new flame the dragon feeds it.
“MASTE—”
A single strike of his tail, and the three wolves are thrown into the water barrier, disappearing
among the perturbed waves with desperate screams on their lips and tears falling from their
eyes as they extend their arms towards the dragon one last time.
Then, they’re gone.
Shibusawa’s jaws struggle to close around the orb, his fangs cracking under its force.
Chuuya’s grin grows into madness, another orb forming in the palm of his other hand. He
swings his arm, broken bones deforming his limb and—
The moment the orb shoots towards the dragon’s chest, both of Chuuya’s arms hang at his
sides, dripping blood from the burnt and torn skin.
Before the orb hits its target, the black flames around the redhead stir. His body bends in half,
throwing up blood around a laugh, and he falls to the ground.
The world goes silent when the orb reaches the dragon, leaving behind a hole through his
body. The fire fades, and the first black orb explodes inside Shibusawa’s throat. The long
body falls to the ground with a loud thud and water splashing all around it, violet seeping into
the clear waves.
…but even with his arms useless, the redhead gets up.
Even as his body breaks apart, he takes a step towards the dragon, smaller black orbs forming
in the air around him, unstable as their borders shake and blood shoots from Chuuya’s body.
It’s as if his body is being pierced by dozens of blades.
Like it can’t contain the blood inside of it any longer.
“Chuuya!” Dazai’s hand reaches to grab the redhead, but when Chuuya’s head snaps at him—
Black flames punch the kitsune in the chest. Not enough to burn through his flesh, but
enough to steal his breath and the ground from under his feet. He falls to the ground a few
metres away, while the redhead turns back to Shibusawa, choking on his own blood—
“Stop!”
Feeling his own bones piercing his skin from the inside, Dazai leaps at the redhead, wrapping
his tails and an arm around the smaller body.
It burns him to hold onto Chuuya.
It burns everywhere he touches, but the kitsune doesn’t let go.
Chuuya struggles in his hold, the dark–red flames attacking the fox with all their fury—
“R—” Dazai’s fangs draw blood as they bite into his lower lip when the kitsune swallows
down the pain. “Rest—”
His fur is on fire.
Chuuya’s body is shattering under his touch.
The ribbons burn to a crisp one after another when the kitsune tries to lock the spell around
the boy’s neck to no avail—
“Ch—Chuuya—”
—until one of them finally holds.
The redhead’s body goes limp, red marks fading from his skin as they both fall to the ground.
“...rest now.” Dazai pants, his vision blurred with pain. “It’s… it’s enough…” But then the
fox’s eye follows the violet path of destruction and blood, and—
Shibusawa is still breathing.
It’s weak, shallow and slowing down, but… it’s there.
He’s still alive.
After everything the dragon has dared to do, after Chuuya almost died while fighting him –
there is still light in the one eye that remains open. There is still life in his scent, in his
presence.
Dazai’s arms tighten around the redhead as he hugs him to his best, his tails straightening out
and his eye set ablaze with crimson murder.
A cloud of white smoke covers the dragon’s body. His scales disintegrating into a rain of
blue, glittering dust, and once it’s all gone—
In a pool of his own blood, Shibusawa lies unmoving but breathing.
Defeated but not dead.

Blue fire lights up at the end of each of Dazai’s tails, the kitsune baring his fangs at the
dragon one last time but—
Shibusawa, he doesn’t see any of it. His eye widens in fear, in panic and desperation, but…
it’s not Dazai that the dragon’s hand extends towards.
It’s not a plea for help, or for mercy.
It’s…
—several hundred years ago—
Every since he can remember, Fyodor’s days were empty. Dull.
Humans rarely wander into the woods of his home, choosing to keep to their small
settlements and not meddle with the forests whose darkness they fear. Most of the time,
anyway. Because it didn’t take long for Fyodor to understand: humans are foolish. Stupid,
even, if he’s being honest.
They’re only good for playing tricks on when he’s bored, scaring them when he feels like it,
but even that can’t fill every second of every day of his prolonged life. He doesn’t remember
when exactly his mind came to be and his body turned into that resembling the humans that
he observes from afar, but he’s never thought it important.
He’s here.
He’s alive. Has been for at least the past few human decades.
It’s weird, the way he feels the passage of time. His body is small, resembling that of a child,
and Fyodor knows there is much he is yet to discover, to understand, and yet – in this lifespan
that he considers so short, he’s seen many, many humans grow up to their deaths.
They age faster than he does, but understand less. The humans don’t bother him; the very few
times they managed to catch a glance of him, they called him a demon, a devil – and, fair
enough, they weren’t wrong. Because this is who he is, the world that he belongs to is that of
demons, not of humans. It’s the simple truth that comes to him easier than breathing, as it
does for everyone of his kind.
His forest is full of life that extends past the human world, and Fyodor has spent years
walking around the old trees, discovering their secrets and looking for what lies beyond that
which he can touch.
Until it became boring. Again.

The same trees over and over again, the same trails among the same darkness that he was
born into. But if there’s one thing that he looks forward to, it’s the coldest day of the year.
When he wanders out of his forest and into the ice–covered shores, walking on the frozen
waters of the deep sea, under the night’s dark veil.
The first time, he saw it by coincidence, from afar – the blue river that flows under the thick
ice, the azure crystals that move as if they had a mind of their own – and ever since, Fyodor
has been coming here on the same day to witness the beauty that hides in the sea under his
feet. He doesn’t actually know what it is that he sees every year, the thick ice blurs the image
too much and it never lasts long enough for him to grasp, but—
It’s pretty, unlike anything that his home hides.
It’s something fascinating, among the repetitive days he leads.
The forest’s spirits and lesser demons don’t know what it is, either, and asking any of the
more powerful ones about anything always comes with a risk Fyodor isn’t willing to take.
For humans, he’s a thread that lives past what should have been allowed, but for his own
world – he’s a child. Skilled enough to get by, but not powerful enough to defend himself
against those much older than him.
But there are rumours that he’s heard.
About something more powerful than anyone else.
About a god that never reveals themselves to anyone.
With that thought in mind, the young kitsune stops when he decides he has reached far
enough from the shore. He sits down on the ice, only a thin layer of brown material of his
clothes – that some of the forest’s spirits gifted him many years ago – separating him from
the cold, but he doesn’t mind. He rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, ears
perked up and a single black tail wrapping around his legs, warming them up—
And he waits.
The time when the live river flows under the ice varies and there were times when Fyodor
missed it in the past, lost opportunities that he had to wait a full year yet again to have a
chance to witness. Which is why he came here early in the morning, this year, just like the
one before it.
Unmoving, with dark purple eyes never looking away from the ice and his own reflection in
it. His ears flicker from time to time when the distant sounds of animals moving on the shore
or flying high above reaches him, but Fyodor stays focused. Until—
“...hi.”
The kitsune jumps in surpris, his fur puffing up as he turns his head towards the voice. He
hasn’t sensed anyone until now, hasn’t heard any footsteps and, fair, he wasn’t paying that
much attention to it, but—
Demons are always alert. Even if his experience cannot be compared to that of a grown
kitsune, or any other type, Fyodor would never make such a mistake. Which means this must
be someone dangerous enough to conceal themselves completely from all of his senses, a
person who could easily hurt him and Fyodor would even notice, wouldn’t stand a chance
against.
Preparing his body to flee, or fight, Fyodor gazes up at the stranger with wide eyes and…
The man’s long hair is as white as the snow that blankets Fyodor’s forest most of the year, his
eyes warmer than the sun that returns after the longest night once sunrise’ first rays kiss the
cold world.
He’s smiling at Fyodor, polite and kind, with a little tilt to his head. “Aren’t you cold?”
He doesn’t sound threatening, but the kitsune can tell the stranger is concealing his true self
from him – he’s just not sure why.
Because he doesn’t want to scare him?
Or is it to deceive him, make him lower his guard?
“Who are you?” The fox says, narrowing his eyes at the stranger.
The man doesn’t seem surprised, or bothered, by the question. His expression remains gentle
and his voice flows through the air like a lazy stream, soothing Fyodor’s nerves without the
fox being aware of it.
“My name is Shibusawa.” He says. Then… “Mind if I sit down with you?”
Fyodor looks down at the ice, then at the stranger, his eyes searching for any sign of ill–
intent, but when he finds none – he nods weakly. There’s nothing alarming about the stranger,
nothing that would feel threatening, and even if anything happens, this is Fyodor’s territory.
He may not be able to fight him, but he knows his way around better than anyone else – if
only he can get to the shore, he’ll know how to escape.
Shibusawa sits down a few steps from him, white robes sprawled on the ice and the tips of
the man’s hair tickling the cold surface. “Aren’t you cold?”
As he shakes his head, Fyodor’s gaze comes back to the ice, waiting again.
“...are you looking for something?”
A nod.
Shibusawa hums, and the kitsune’s lips press into a thin line. It’s not often that he encounters
other demons, all the living beings around here prefer to keep to themselves. They prefer to
guard their secrets and treasures, but—
“...how did you do it?” Be it a dangerous trait, but curiosity has always been in Fyodor’s
nature. “Come here without me noticing?” He can’t see it, but Shibusawa’s eyes seem to
laugh when the man speaks up.
“I’m old enough to know a trick or two.”
The black tail stirs and the fox allows himself to take the risk of asking more. “...how old are
you?”
Another hum. “I don’t quite remember anymore. Very old.”
He doesn’t look like that to Fyodor, but demons never look their age. It’s usually their aura
that gives it away but, even now, the stranger continues to conceal himself from the fox’s
developing senses.
It makes the kitsune hesitate for a second, thinking of whether he can trust what Shibusawa
says or not, but then—
“...why are you here?”
He’s sure Shibusawa isn’t from around here, or Fyodor would at least have heard about him,
from the spirits or humans – and he hasn’t. A man of white hair and dressed in white robes,
with eyes of scarlet sunrise – there’s no legend about anyone like that, no rumours spread
around. Not to mention that he doesn’t look like anyone Fyodor has ever met, his features are
somewhat different, name too uncommon and his manners more… polite. Too polite, even.
After a few seconds with no answer, the fox looks up to glance at the man, but Shibusawa
isn’t looking back at him. He’s looking at the ice and the water below it, right where Fyodor’s
gaze has been lingering on until now. He seems to be unsure of the answer himself, hesitating
for the first time.
“I come here every year.” He ends up saying. “It’s a part of my… profession.”
“I’ve never seen you before, though.” And Fyodor is a kitsune – he tells lies, but doesn’t
appreciate being lied to. Even if he can’t sense the lie itself in the calm stream of the man’s
voice.
Shibusawa doesn’t offer a comment or an explanation to that. Instead, his eyes dart up to
meet the fox’s. “Are you waiting for something?”
Well, if he isn’t going to answer, then Fyodor doesn’t need to do so, either.
“...no.”
“You’re sitting out here without a reason?”
Fyodor’s ear flickers, nervous. “...maybe.”
The man’s face is understanding as he ignores the obvious lie, lips stretched into a small
smile. “It’s a very obscure place to sit, but it has its charm.”
“...yeah.”
“Did you know?” Shibusawa’s voice lowers, ringing somewhat uncertain in the kitsune’s
ears. “That if you’re patient enough, you can see something beneath the surface—”
Fyodor’s ears shoot up, eyes widening as curious sparkles light up in them. “You know about
the river?!”
And Shibusawa can only blink in surprise, both amused by the sudden enthusiasm and
confused because… “...the river?”
“It’s like a river of crystals.” The fox explains, unaware of how lively his voice is. “Under the
ice. It comes every year!”
“Ah…” The corners of the man’s lips twitch, amused.” Yes, that’s what I meant.” He tilts his
head to the side slightly. “Why do you think it’s a river, though?”
The fox shrugs at that, not letting the question discourage him. “It looks like one.”
A nod. “...right.”
“But I heard it may be something else.” He then adds, just to show the stranger that he does,
in fact, know some things.
Shibusawa’s eyebrows rise, his interest picked, even if it’s merely an act. “Like what?”
“It depends which rumours I happen to overhear at the time.” A sigh. “But I don’t really care
either way.”
Genuine surprise paints the man’s face as the statement sinks in. “You don’t?”
Fyodor shakes his head without hesitation.
“How so?”
The shine in the purple eyes dims as he looks back at the ice, his hand involuntarily coming
to rest on its surface. “Because it’s warm.”
Because in a world where ice and cold rule over all that lives and dies – on that one day,
Fyodor can feel warmth welcoming itself into his body despite the ice that stretches further
than the eye can see.
(Just like the stranger’s eyes seem to warm the air around the up.)
For that single, brief moment the black and white of his days gains colours, the cold shivers
replaced by the sensation of being wrapped in a blanket, in an embrace that makes him feel
protected. He doesn’t understand why it’s like that, or where it’s coming from, but for
someone like him – an existence that values freedom over anything else, paying the price of
loneliness for it – it’s more than he could ever ask for. More than anyone would ever be
willing to offer him.
“...is that why you’re waiting for it?” Shibusawa asks, and there’s a note in his voice that
rings too honest, too caring, too… sad.
“I—” The kitsune stops himself, narrowing his eyes again – not so much suspicious, as
cautious when he meets the red gaze. “What did you say your ‘profession’ was?”
To that question, he doesn’t get an answer. Not yet.
Shibusawa offers him a smile, standing up from the ground and straightening his clothes. “I
think it’s time for me to go.”
Fyodor doesn’t know whether to feel relieved, confused, or disappointed. He feels all of it at
once as he watches the man’s white hair blowing in the icy wind and the red eyes offering
him the last rays of a goodbye.
“Stay safe, little fox.”
He doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t feel the need to – the kitsune only nods and lets his
gaze fall to the cold surface under him.
Not even a second later, the stranger is gone, leaving Fyodor alone as silently as he welcomed
himself into the fox’s loneliness—
(—and when the dragon’s body follows the same path it does every year, he sees the smile
that blooms on the fox’s small face as the purple eyes light up among the darkness of the
coldest day of the year.
The first time he saw it, Shibusawa didn’t think much of it. It was unusual for a land demon
to notice his presence, especially in this part of the world. Not because he did anything to
conceal it, but because his paths never stray from the deep waters, while land dwellers never
leave the safety of their solid grounds.
He thought of it as merely a coincidence, a fox child that happened to be there at the right
time. But then it happened again and again and—
After a few years, Shibusawa found himself feeling relieved at the sight of a lonely kitsune
looking at him from the upper world. At seeing the boy alive.
He has always found kitsunes pitiful, no matter which part of which world they’re born to –
they hold great powers that stay asleep within them, only to be woken up with enough time,
but not many live long enough to become what they could be. Their trickery lures them into
an early end, more often than not a painful one. But the young fox would always be there as
the years went by, and…
Gods aren’t allowed to meddle with the path the world decides to take, not unless their
followers will them to – human followers. A rule written by Fate itself, to keep the balance of
things. Shibusawa knows it well, just like every god.
But the little fox was always there, looking at him through the ice with such pure and lonely
eyes that it made the dragon’s heart ache. So, he left his waters and spoke to him. It was on
an impulse, really, and it was supposed to be a one time thing. To understand why he’s there
and sate his own curiosity, while not trying to tempt Fate into changing the threads it has
already woven.
…but then, once next year rolls around, Shibusawa finds himself above the ice again. Sitting
down with the same young kitsune, with the same pair of curious eyes staring right at him.
Every time the fox sees him, the loneliness seems to disappear from the young irises, even if
there are questions Shibusawa doesn’t answer. Even if, in the end, he has to leave before the
day ends, seeing the shadows crawling back into the purple lights. Each year, the time they
spend together grows longer, and once another decade passes—
When he asks the little fox if he’d like to live in a god’s palace instead of a cold forest –
Fyodor follows him with not only relieved but also hopeful eyes. With a hint of happiness in
them. A spark of what Shibusawa hasn’t yet seen in him – of looking forward to tomorrow.
And maybe it’s not exactly the way it’s supposed to be, because it’s demons and spirits that
choose their gods, not the other way around, but—
This child, seeking a mere glance of the dragon every year without fail, has proven to be
more devoted to him than any of his human subjects. Fyodor never prayed for calm waves.
Never cursed the gods for violent storms, or floods, or anything of the sort.
He only waited. And smiled.
All by himself, in a place eternally frozen still.
The dragon doesn’t need servants, never has, and he hasn’t taken Fyodor in for the fox to
become one – what Shibusawa offered him was home.
Until the day the kitsune decides to walk away, choosing the next path he takes all on his
own.)
Sometimes, Fyodor finds it amazing how easily he can forget he’s living with a god now.
It’s impossible to mistake the palace for his old forest, or the sound of flowing water with the
sharp whistles of icy wind, or the delicate robes he now wears with the roughened materials
he left behind. In a way, everything keeps reminding him how all of this is new.
…but then again, it’s nothing like what he expected.

There are no orders that he has to follow, no rules to obey – even the idea to learn the
language of a nation the closest to Shibusawa’s home was merely a suggestion and nothing
more. One that Fyodor listened to, finding studying about the things he didn’t know before
fascination, something to keep him occupied for a long time.
The gates are open for when he misses the land and they remain like that, awaiting his return
for when the fox misses the waters more. Shibusawa doesn’t lock himself in a throne room or
anything like that – he’s there, helping Fyodor with studying, teaching him about the world
and about using the powers that slowly wake up within him.
There are times when he needs to step out to tend to his responsibilities, but most of the time
he stays around the empty palace and the vast waters surrounding it.
Always there to talk to, or to stay silent with.
Always there to just be around.
He’s nowhere near as frightening as the rumours had Fyodor think before he met him, and he
doesn’t fit the arrogant image of gods the kitsune had in mind before meeting one.
The dragon used to be a spark of warmth in Fyodor’s life before they met.
Then, he became a friend.
And now – his family.
It’s weird to be able to know that kind of a feeling, to experience something that doesn’t
really lie in a demon’s nature, especially not in his, but… Even if it makes him less of a
cunning kitsune, Fyodor likes it.
He likes watching Shibusawa read his scrolls and falling asleep to the sound of calming
humming, with his head resting on the dragon’s lap. He likes braiding the dragon’s long,
white hair, or admiring the breathtaking dance of azure scales whenever he lets his tail show.
It’s a life Fyodor never knew he could have – calm and peaceful, with someone who cares
about him.
“What are these?” The fox asks one day.
He’s sitting on Shibusawa’s lap, back leaning on the man’s chest, with a long piece of paper
in the small hands as he’s trying to memorise more of the words from yet another language
he’s studying. Above and in front of him, Shibusawa holds his own scroll – much larger and
with many more characters inked into the white material.
Fyodor has been peeking at it from time to time, always seeing the god with one of these but
never actually having asked what’s written there. He recognises single words from different
languages, and he could swear more lines appear on their own every time the scroll is
unrolled further.
“Wishes.” The god answers when the kitsune tilts his head back to look at him. “Prayers.
From everyone that seeks my help.”
“I thought you have them in your head?”
Letting out a small chuckle, Shibusawa lowers his arms, the scroll settling over his and
Fyodor’s legs. “I do. But sometimes I need to write some of them down to get back to later.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to go and make sure what they’re asking for is actually needed. Or because it
sounds important.”
Fyodor hums at that, his tail stirring curiously as it rests next to the cushion Shibusawa is
sitting on. “Do you always do that?”
“I do.”
“Every day?”
Another chuckle. “Yes, little one. Every day since I can remember.”
“Aren’t you tired?” The fox’s brows furrow slightly, a small pout settling on his face. “It’s
not like they give you anything back.”
He’s been here for a long time already and never once has Fyodor ever seen any sort of an
offering appear in the palace. There isn’t even a single servant to help around with the god’s
duties. Only Shibusawa and him. Only the wishes that come and no thanks to be heard back.
He’s too old to be thanked, the dragon once told him. Too old to be remembered by humans,
who pray to him without knowing who he actually is and, hence, they don’t know who to
thank for the help. So they don’t.
They only ask and demand and never—
“Sometimes.” Shibusawa muses, his fingers hovering over one of the wishes Fyodor can’t
read. “But I don’t mind.”
—and never know how much Shibusawa does for them.
“...maybe you should.” The fox mumbles, growing more annoyed with the less he
understands.
“I would never.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my duty.”

Then, with a bright smile that warms the snow of Fyodor’s troubled mind, Shibusawa pokes
his nose with the tip of his claw, making the fox blink in confusion.
“And because I love them, of course.”
A century passes in the blink of an eye when Fyodor’s second tail appears one day and his
powers grow, never just a small child anymore. Then a third one…
And it’s only the first change of many more that follow it.
A challenge from a half–delusional demon brings four new voices into the quietness of their
home. Four pups that had nowhere else to go once their ‘god’ perished in front of their eyes.
There’s no rule that says Shibusawa has to take the four pups in, or take any kind of
responsibility for them, and yet—
It’s what he does.
Because despite the legends and rumours about him, Shibusawa is kind.
Too kind, sometimes.
And, for a god, he’s also more awkward and insecure than Fyodor would take him for in the
past. He’s the one to prepare the rooms and clothes for the young wolves, but he keeps to
himself most of the time since they came here, almost as if he’s scared of these children more
than of anything else. As if he’s scared he’d hurt them somehow by simply staying close,
scaring them even more after everything they have already gone through.
Which isn’t the case. The truth is far from that.
There are habits Fyodor can’t get them to forget no matter how much he tries – like calling
Shibusawa the same way they were forced to call Kamui – but the wolves never fear him, or
the dragon. They grow attached to them. They run around and play with each other, train
under the kitsune’s eye or…
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
The dragon’s voice is quiet, careful not to wake the four wolves softly snoring on his
stretched out tail, having fallen asleep after holding a tournament of who can braid
Shibusawa’s hair better. It left the dragon with four, incredibly messy braids falling down his
back and a smile that doesn’t feel the tiniest bit bothered by it, even if combing through it
will surely turn out to be painful.
With a suppressed chuckle, Fyodor shakes his head. “No need to wake them up. I’ll be fine,
I’m not a helpless child anymore.”
He’s still not an adult, not by the yōkai standards, but he’s grown and learnt in those past few
decades more than ever before. Plus, it’s not the first time he goes out by himself, he would
do so even back when he had only one tail and it was never a problem.
Shibusawa’s smile turns apologetic, his hand resting on top of Teruko’s small head when the
girl snuggles more into the warm scales. Her hair falls over her face, making her wrinkle her
nose and try to huff it away.
“I know.” He whispers. “But you’ve only had your third tail for a few years. There are still
—”
“—things I haven’t mastered yet.” The fox finishes for him, sighing with a smile. “I’m well
aware.”
One of his tails moves to carefully pull Jouno’s body back up when the boy starts sliding
from Shibusawa’s scales in his sleep. It makes Tetchou mumble something on the ground in
his sleep, his small hand holding onto the red tip of Jouno’s tail as Tachihara leans his back
on him. They’re always like this, together, no matter what they're doing.
“I’m only going to look for a gift for them, not to fight anyone. I’ll be fine.”
(If only Fyodor had known the consequences of that one, simple decision, he never would
have stepped out of the water barrier on his own that day.)
“Oh my~”
An unfamiliar voice rings from the tree’s crown above him, and Fyodor stops immediately.
He isn’t surprised by it, he has sensed the stranger following him from a while ago – or
maybe the other demon allowed himself to be noticed? – but he hoped it would never come
down to this. Especially when he’s still far from the shore and won’t be able to escape into
Shibusawa’s palace, should he need to.
Slowly and trying not to seem alarmed or hostile, the dark fox looks over his shoulder,
glancing up towards—
“I haven’t seen you around yet, have I~?”
—another kitsune.
One with white fur and dangerous mischief casting shadows over his red eyes, lazily lying on
one of the bigger branches and smirking down at him with fangs peeking from behind his
lips. Three long tails hang under him, and a shadow of a fout / one ghosting among them ever
so often. It hasn’t manifested itself yet, but it's already becoming visible, which means the
other kitsune is older than Fyodor, even if not by much, and can prove to be dangerous if
provoked.
“...I don’t come here often, no.” The dark fox answers with a carefully casual voice so as not
to provoke the other boy.
He didn’t come here to look for trouble, Fyodor doesn’t even like fighting all that much,
especially when he can’t be sure he can win. He promised Shibusawa not to do anything that
would endanger him and it’s been going more than smoothly ever since he picked the gifts
for the wolves. Always polite and keeping to himself, staying out of trouble and heading
straight to the shore once he’s done—
The stranger hums, jumping down from the tree not too far from Fyodor. He looks him over,
a red glint flashing in the dark depths, head tilted to the side as brown locks fall down his
face.
“You’re not from around here.”
It’s a statement, not a question, and Fyodor doesn’t feel the need to lie about it. If he were to
lie, it could sound like provocation, an unintended challenge thrown at someone whose sole
gaze is enough to send a shiver down his spine.
“I’m not.”
“And you’re not exactly well trained, either, huh?”
Furrowing his brows, Fyodor is about to ask what he means by that, but—
He doesn’t get a chance.
He only has a split second to jump away when the other fox’s claws reach for his throat, red
eyes staring at him from above an amused smirk and a ghost of a barely missed lethal attack
lingering on his skin.
“Oh, but you know how to run, at least~” The boy chirps.
With a hand covering the small cut across his throat, Fyodor doesn’t take his eyes off of the
other kitsune. He’s more alert now, his stance defensive. “What are you—”
“It’s common knowledge, actually.” Tilting his head to the other side, the white kitsune
observes a single drop of blood trailing down his finger, fascinated by it. “To never enter
another demon’s domain without an invitation.” He shakes his hand, burning the blood away
with blue flames. “Especially not a kitsune’s one.” His voice is a mockery of innocence, his
smile more a threat than anything else. “We’re quite territorial, you see~”
Considering his chances, Fyodor swallows dryly.
It’s true that it is common knowledge, Shibusawa has told him that from the very beginning,
but it’s also a fact that Fyodor has never learnt how to recognise the borders that were meant
to be easily missed. Most of his life, it’s always been Shibusawa’s waters that would surround
him, and during the many trips he would take on his own, he has hardly ever met any yōkai.
Luck or coincidence, or maybe Shibusawa’s scent on him scaring them away – what it was,
he isn’t sure. But that’s how it was and… some things, he just never learnt before.
“I’m not looking for trouble.” He says carefully, straightening his back and putting his hands
up to show he doesn’t want a fight. “I didn’t know it’s your home.”
A hum muses through the air, setting off alarm bells in Fyodor’s head.
“I’ll leave—”
“Ah ah ah~” But this time, the voice rings from behind him as the figure of a white fox
disappears from his sight. “Not so fast~”
Caught off–guard, Fyodor’s body freezes for a moment, long enough for the other kitsune to
press a sharp claw to the back of his neck. It doesn’t hurt, doesn’t break the skin – but it’s a
threat, a tease that promises pain if the boy so much as twitches.
The dark fox has to will his heart into a normal rhythm, force his breathing to remain calm
when his mind is anything but that. “...I thought you didn’t want me on your territory.”
“I don’t.” The boy answers with a playful voice. “But it’s not often that I see another kitsune,
and…” He walks around Fyodor to stand in front of him again, his claw grazing the skin
around his neck, never pulling away. “It’s the first time I’m seeing one with more than two
tails.”
The look in the red eyes is dangerously intrigued, but Fyodor doesn’t let the shiver that runs
down his spine show. Not this time.
“Like I said,” He takes a step back and, fortunately, the other fox lets him. “I’m not looking
for trouble.”
“Trouble?” The white fox’s fangs flash in a grin. “Oh, no. I don’t like that, either.”
The stranger’s words bring him hope, but Fyodor should have known better. He should have
known it was a trap, not a way out. The next thing he feels is sharp pain piercing through his
body as the boy’s claws cut across his chest, leaving long, red lines behind as blood taints
Fyodor’s white, ripped kimono.
“We’ll just have some fun~”
Maybe, if only Fyodor decided to run the very moment the other kitsune called out to him
instead of facing the stranger, it would have turned out differently. Maybe if only he tried
harder to find an opening and flee to the waters that would guard him from the other’s attacks
—
Maybe then, his life would stay peaceful.
But he’s still young, even if not a child anymore, and his nature is that of a demon, of a
trickster, and his pride flows through his veins like liquid fire, burning. So for every scratch
and every blue flame thrown at him, Fyodor fights back, and soon enough… He learns just
how much of a difference one more tail makes, even if it’s not really there yet.
Because he may have trained under a god’s eye, the potential that sleeps within his body may
match that of his opponent – but it is the white kitsune, who knows how to put it all to use.
It’s not him, but the other boy that has lived on the surface, facing the dangers of the world
from a young age and thriving from the sight of blood that’s left behind wherever he goes.
From the very beginning, Fyodor didn’t stand a chance. Not against someone who not only
has more experience than him, but also seeks the thrill of ripping his opponents into pieces,
like he did so many times before—
“Quite disappointing, I must say.”
—and like he’s going to do now.
All because he’s bored, because he finds it to be entertaining.
Fingers wrapped around his throat keep Fyodor’s body up and pressed against the tree as the
fox struggles to take a single breath. There are burns and cuts covering his body, blood
streams down from his mouth and—
“AGHH—!”
—his eyes squeeze shut, body freezing in pain and uncontrollable terror, when the white fox’s
claws dig into one of his tails.
His first tail.
The one that every kitsune must protect, as it guards their life within itself, especially when
they’re young. If it’s his legs or arms that would break, Fyodor would heal. If it’s any other
tail that the stranger would rip out, he would live. But like this, it doesn’t matter if Shibusawa
guards the orb that holds Fyodor’s existence, because the first tail is what can end it all.
The one of two ways of killing a kitsune, the slower and more painful one.
“Oh?” Fyodor can’t see it, but he can hear the satisfied smirk on the other’s face. “Did I get it
on the first try?”
The claws slide down his tail, cutting the skin under the fur and leaving long, agonisingly
painful marks as the dark fox struggles to get away but can’t. His body shakes all over, tears
uncontrollably falling from the shut eyes.
A pleased hum accompanies Fyodor’s choked screams.
It’s torture, it’s an execution.
All for the white fox’s amusement.

He can’t breathe, feeling life slipping away from his grasp when the other’s claws almost
reach the tip of his tail, the smallest move away from splitting it in half and killing him—
The last thought in Fyodor’s mind is the image of his family. Of the god and young pups he
will never see again.
Regret.
Guilt.
Sorrow.
An apology he doesn't have the strength to let out into the world…
It’s the human subjects that are a god’s most important concern. Their treasure.
It’s the world around and its peace that are a dragon’s duty to look over and protect. From the
beginning until the end.
Gods do not interfere.
Gods do not let their emotions dictate their actions.
Those are the rules.
And yet—
For the brief moment that a distant cry reaches Shibusawa’s ears, for the split second that he
feels another soul being dragged into the depths of Death, so close to crossing its gates…
None of it matters.
Time slows down for him and Shibusawa doesn’t think about it as his body moves on its
own, driven by a desire so primal and pure, to protect and to keep safe, that he can’t stop. A
forest replaces the waters of his home, the salty scent of the ocean gives way to the stench of
blood, the waves’ songs changing into pained screams and weakening cries.
For the first time ever, Shibusawa’s eyes are full of rage. Of fire so bright and hot it melts the
wood and stones all around, burning through the air with the same ferocity as the flames that
once moulded him into existence, a power long lost.
But above everything else, it’s fear that clouds his judgement, it’s the suffocating terror of
losing his loved one that makes him act not like a god, or the eldest dragon, but like… a
human. A creation imperfect, but free.
(Unlike the gods, who were never meant to know true freedom.)
It’s love that pushes him into what would never be allowed to happen.
It takes one swing of his tail to send the white fox flying towards one of the trees, catching
Fyodor’s limp body into his arms as blood spills onto the ground. It takes a second for his
hand to move to cast a spell that will never allow him to die for as long as the dragon is alive
and—
It’s that exact same second that a rule is broken.
That, while blinded by rage and fear and affection so deep it could never be put into words,
Shibusawa’s tail swings once more towards the kitsune scrambling away on the ground with
blown eyes and—
It shatters the jewel hanging from the young fox’s side.
A life for a life.
…a life that was never for Shibusawa to take.
(And as the white kitsune screams out in pain, as his soul breaks into pieces and black cracks
tear through his skin – it’s as he feels himself dying that he realises the mistake he has made.
The consequences that will follow his arrogance into the agony that lies before him as Death
grazes his soul.
…but it won’t be until many, many years from now that that very same kitsune will be
reminded of his past mistake. That the consequences will comeback to haunt not only him,
but also those he loves.
Because as Fate wills it: the price must always be paid.
Both for the suffering caused and for that yet to come.)
It’s slow when his mind wakes up from the darkness of Death's welcoming door, slipping
away from the cold embrace despite having thought it would be the end. His body aches all
over but he feels… alive?
“Fyodor–kun?” There’s someone at his side, holding his hand, and it’s… warm. Gentle. “Can
you hear me?” He’s lying on something soft, something that he knows. “Can you open your
eyes?”
Familiar, salty air fills his lungs—

“Please.”
‘Why does he sound so scared?’, Fyodor thinks to himself, turning his head towards the voice
and willing his eyes to open, ‘Why does Shibusawa look so… exhausted?’
Relief washes over the dragon’s face when purple eyes look at him, confused and tired but
with the flame of life still shining brightly in their depths.
“What…” His voice comes out rasped, every word a struggle. “What happened?”
He remembers going out to look for gifts for the pups, then meeting another fox and…
Shibusawa squeezes Fyodor’s hand tighter, but careful not to hurt him. “You got hurt.” The
dragon smiles at him, his lips trembling barely visibly as he speaks, his other hand stroking
Fyodor’s head. “But you’re okay now.”
“I… I’m sorry…”
But the dragon only shakes his head. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Everything is going to be
okay.”
…except, it won’t be.
Not for him. Not for Shibusawa.
Not for anyone.
Because gods aren’t allowed to act on their emotions, they aren’t allowed to interfere with the
world they’re supposed to guide and not force their will upon. Their powers surpass any other
demon, but Fate’s shackles bind then and when they break free from their chains—
They have to pay the price for it.
They fall.
Never to be what they once were.
(Because for humans, whose minds were made to forget, such a god is dead.)
It took a single outburst of rage to silence the whispers of his followers forever, leaving
Shibusawa’s mind quiet for the first time since his beginning. It took crushing one fox’s soul
for the dragon to lose the part of him that made him a god.
Blind revenge, and the price for it—
“...your scales are showing.”
It’s been a long time since the day Fyodor almost met his end at the hands of another kitsune.
A long time since the last time things were normal. Peaceful. Since the last time Shibusawa
was… whole.
The dragon blinks, turning his head to smile at the now four–tailed fox. “...do you need help
with something?”
The softness of his voice makes Fyodor’s eyes darken with guilt. “No.” He steps closer,
brushing the back of his fingers over the blue scales around Shibusawa’s eyes as he looks up
at the dragon. “But your scales are showing again.”
Red eyes blink at him, the dragon’s hand coming up to his face. “...ah.” His brows furrow
slightly when he concentrates, but… the scales seem to tremble for a second, only to remain
as they were.
“Is it not listening to you anymore?”
Sorrow hides behind the gentle smile blooming on Shibusawa’s lips, a hollowness the dragon
never shares. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s…” Fyodor takes his hand away, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
It’s his fault, not Shibusawa’s.
If only he hadn’t gone out that day, if only he—
“Don’t blame yourself for my choices, Fyodor–kun.”
A hand settles on the fox’s head, fingers tangling in the black strands the way they used to
when he was younger and falling asleep on Shibusawa’s lap. The old times, the happy times.
The lost time.
“You have nothing to apologise for.”
…but he will continue to do so, no matter what Shibusawa says.
Until the very last day.
Once the purpose of one’s life is lost, the days are never the same.
What Shibusawa’s eyes see is not what is actually there.
With the voices of his followers, with their faith and hope gone from his life, the dragon’s
mind can’t find its way anymore. It gets lost among the darkness of loneliness, among the
deafening silence that makes phantoms of his old life dance in front of Shibusawa’s eyes. No
matter how much he tells himself it’s fine, no matter how much he tries to live with the
emptiness that leaves his soul cold and forgotten—
“It’s getting worse.” Fyodor’s hands clench into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms
and his voice trembling with. “You’re losing your hold over it.”
—with a part of himself gone, nothing feels the same.
Nothing feels right.
Shibusawa is supporting himself on the tree with one hand, the other one covering his face as
the dragon regains his composure.
“I’m…” His voice is shaking, uncertain. His breathing heavy and his fingers… bloodied?
“I’m fine, I’m—”
They shouldn’t have left their home.
They shouldn’t have come up here when he’s like this—
“Those were humans.”
Those bodies that now lie on the ground, cut in half, lifeless, blood seeping into the soil.
Those people who happened to pass by here by coincidence, who may have spoken harsher
than they should have but didn’t deserve this to happen. Not for the sin of being human and
not knowing better.
Fyodor speaks quietly but firmly, trying to reach the side of Shibusawa that’s still himself,
even if every word pains him just as much as seeing the dragon in this state does. “And you
don’t hurt humans, right?”
At least he didn’t in the past.
At least not when he’s aware of what he’s doing, thinking past the primal call of bloodlust
that, with all the other voices now gone, can seep into Shibusawa’s mind as easily as the
blood soaking into the ground under their feet.
Fyodor takes a step closer, his hand coming up to rest on Shibusawa’s arm to reassure him
that he’s here, to ground him in reality and help the god see the light again.
“You love them, remember?”
Because every god loves humans, whose hearts are what gives them purpose. Who the
dragon witnessed as they took their first steps, spoke first words and forged first weapons.
It’s Shibusawa, who was there when the first prayers were let out.
And it’s him, who can’t hear it anymore.
“I…”
It’s heartbreaking how uncertain Shibusawa sounds, how his eyes look lost and his scales
lose their shine with every passing day, covering more and more of his face and neck without
the dragon willing them to.
“I do, I… I protect them…”
Or so he should, but today—
Taking a deep breath, Fyodor cups the dragon’s cheek, offering a smile that paints his sorrow
with reassurance. “Let’s go back, okay?”
But he isn’t sure if his words truly reach the other man.
Or if they reach his own, guilt wretched heart.
“Let’s go home.”
“Do you think I should have left them there?”
Shibusawa’s voice is distant, his eyes looking at the figures of the wolves running around the
ruins of what once used to be a part of the palace. It unsettles Fyodor in a way he can’t
understand, his brows furrowing as he looks up at the dragon.
“Left them?”
“When I defeated Kamui.” Shibusawa’s scales seem to darken, azure fading into deep
shadows. “Maybe it would have been better for them.”
Every day, they walk together.
Every day, Fyodor makes sure to stay by the dragon’s side to make sure he doesn’t lose sight
of himself. To always be there to remind him of who he is.
“Wha—no.” The fox tugs at the other’s clothes to make Shibusawa look at him, and what he
sees in the red eyes is the same kind of doubt that plantes its roots in his mind long ago,
feeding off of the deepest fears it can find. “They wouldn’t have known how to survive on
their own.”
“But they would be free.” As a hand settles on the top of his head, Fyodor feels his throat
clench. “And here they can only feel trapped and hurt.”
The kitsune wants to argue, he wants to tell him that he’s wrong and that he’s letting madness
speak through his lips, but… somehow, Fyodor can’t bring himself to say it. Something is
stopping him, something he doesn’t want to believe – something he hates.
“It’s not your fault.” He ends up saying eventually, his fingers tightening as they hold onto
Shibusaa’s clothes. “They chose this to be their freedom.”
Just like he did.
They all… chose to stay.
Are they happy? Those who once prayed to him?
Are they being protected? Looked after?
Are their voices being heard?
Are they—
Ah, but he can’t know.
He will never know.
With each year that passes, it only gets worse. Shibusawa’s mind loses its way in the maze of
his silent thought, his powers spil from his hold the more he uses them, and their home starts
to fall apart together with the dragon’s sanity.
The wolves never say anything about it, they stay with them and continue to pretend
everything is fine, declining every offer of being set free as they continue to cherish the
calmer days whenever they come, but—
“This isn’t you, please—”
—but Fyodor knows.
He can see it all and it breaks his heart every day a little more.
“Please, just listen to me.”
They’re kneeling among the ruins of the part of the palace Shibusawa has destroyed just now,
driven by the shadows only his mind can see. The dragon’s hands are desperately holding
onto Fyodor’s right wrist, his eyes wide and shaking.
“I have to—it’s weakening, I have to—”
“No” He shakes his head, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “You don’t have to do this
anymore.” The fox’s vice is on the verge of breaking down, pleading. “It’s been centuries,
I’m okay now—”
Because there, around his right wrist, is a reminder of his mistake.
A mark Shibusawa granted him, less than a second before falling from his grace – a dark,
dragon–shaped mark wrapping around his wrist. It’s more than a blessing and less than a true
bond, bestowed upon him by a desperate wish of a desperate man.
It only flows one way, connecting the dragon’s soul to Fyodor’s, but not the other way
around. It draws Shibusawa’s powers whenever the kitsune is hurt, helping him heal faster
than it should be possible, keeping him alive no matter what.
It’s been there since the day he almost died.
But it shouldn’t have.
After Shibusawa fell from his godhood, it should have been broken, faded with the grace the
dragon could never regain, but… Somehow, the man keeps it there, feeding it his own
strength until it drains him into madness. Forcing the world to accept the impossible at the
price of his sacrifice.
“But I need to protect—”
“It’s okay to stop, before it’s too late.” Before it drains him even more, before the person who
gave Fyodor this mark will be gone because of it.
“What if—I need to—”
“I’m here.” And no matter what Fyodor says, or how many times he begs Shibusawa to break
it, to do what’s best for himself, not the fox – he doesn’t. “I’m safe.”
It’s the last lifeline the dragon holds onto.
The last soul he can feel among the silence, the one he cherishes above even himself. The
only one he himself chose to love, to protect.
The one he can’t let go of.
Not now.
Not ever.
—
It takes decades after decades, a never ending cycle of the same sorrows haunting them every
day. Watching Shibusawa lose his mind hollows Fyodor’s heart, both of their misery mixing
together into despair neither of them can escape from.
The desperate whispers among the nights.
The lost eyes that search for the past without seeing the present, without believing in the
future.
All this time, the kitsune blames himself for what has happened. For doing this to Shibusawa.
For slowly killing him. For taking away his sanity. For being the downfall of a god that has
given him everything and more.
The light in the dragon’s eyes that used to be warm as a summer sunrise, now dims into the
promise of darkness that comes with every sunset. He’s here but he’s not, and all Fyodor can
do is watch it happen as Shibusawa becomes a shadow of his past self, holding onto the
memories long gone.
There are days when he forgets who he is and lives like who he was.
There are days when he doesn’t see Fyodor, but the three–tailed kitsune he used to be, the
boy who nearly died at the hands of a stranger he crossed paths with. Or the even younger
version of him, a lonely, one–tailed fox walking the world with their eyes on the ground,
never looking up.
Among the days he doesn’t speak a word, among the nights he spends away, secluded in the
furthest corners of the ocean’s world—
Among all of it, one thing stays the same – no matter how distraught and blind his mind
becomes, Shibusawa never hurts any of them. Not Fyodor, not the wolves.
The only one the dragon allows to suffer is himself.
Fallen gods never live long lives. They succumb into madness faster than anyone could save
them from it, choosing to perish on their own or falling victims to those who hunt them down
in search of glory, or fame. Their fall is their last sentence – not that which kills, but that
which promises a slow ending.
A fate worse than death, some would say.
But despite that, despite how he should have faded from existence a long time ago, the
dragon holds onto his life with everything he has. Denying Fate over and over again, and
writing the tale of the impossible with years that bleed madness.
Everything for the sole purpose of protecting them. Of looking after the four pups that have
grown so much during the last few decades. Of staying with the young, lonely fox he picked
up all those centuries ago.
He can’t leave them.
He can’t leave his family—
“I’m sorry but I—” Fyodor’s eyes are wide, his mind blank. “I don’t understand.”
—but he also can’t allow them to suffer because of his selfishness.
With now seven tails behind his back, the kitsune is frozen in place, staring at the dragon
standing by the water barrier. Or rather, by the hole in it.
The entrance and… the exit.
Shibusawa has been distant for the past few days, disappearing to where the kitsune has no
way of following and it’s been driving him insane even more, because what if he does
something he’ll regret later? What if he hurts himself? Fyodor has to keep an eye on him, he
has to make sure his mistake won’t cause Shibusawa any more pain, but—
“I said…” The dragon smiles at him and, somehow, it’s the same smile he wore when they
first met. Genuine, not tainted by the shadows. “You can go now.”
But this? This, Fyodor doesn’t understand.
He refuses to understand.
“...no.” Shaking his head, the kitsune takes a step forward. “This isn’t you.” This can’t be
him. “You’re tired, you—you just need to rest, okay? Let’s—”
And Shibusawa’s kind smile? Painfully aware eyes? Cruelly clear of any signs of madness?
It’s unfair.
Why now, out of all times?
“I can feel it, little fox.” The dragon says softly. “I can feel your suffering when you’re here.”
‘When you’re with /me/’, goes unsaid and, yet, it rings louder in Fyodor’s ears than any of
the screams he listened to in the past centuries.
Another shake of his head, more desperate now. “No.”
(But it’s true.)
“I’m not leaving you, I promise—”
(He’s just so, so tired.)
“It’s okay.” Shibusawa’s hand cupping his cheek makes the fox stop, his lips pressing
together as his heart stutters. “I understand.”
It’s cruel how the one time Fyodor wishes the madness would show itself, the dragon sounds
like himself. Like the god that extended his hand to him all those centuries ago. Like the one
person Fyodor has come to—
“I know you don’t want to leave.” He says, brushing his thumb on the boy’s cheek. “But I
know you’ve been thinking about it.”
“No.”
(He has.)
“I’m not leaving you, I—” His eyes water, but Fyodor refuses to let the tears spill. “I won’t,
no!”
How could he ever leave the person who gave his life meaning? Saved him? How could he
ever leave his only family when they need him?
When they’re hurting because of him?
(Why does the thought of it feel so… freeing?)
Shibusawa’s smile never fades, and it reminds Fyodor of the smile he used to fall asleep to,
of the smile that became his light after a life among the ever–lasting shadows and cold winds.
“It’s okay, my lovely little fox.” And it’s only when Shibusawa’s arms wrap around him,
pulling him close, that Fyodor’s heart breaks. “I know you’re in pain.”
That the tears fall freely from his eyes and soak the dragon’s kimono.
“I know you want to be free from this.”
His hands tremble as they come up, gripping at Shibusawa’s clothes desperately despite how
weak he feels, how vulnerable.
“I know you hate yourself for wishing to leave.”
He presses his face more to Shibusawa’s chest, shaking his head while no words find their
way out of his throat.
“But it’s okay. I don’t blame you for it.”
A sob rocks Fyodor’s body, his heart shattering with every breath he takes.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, his arms tightening. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” For many things,
but most of all for…
Shibusawa kisses the top of his head, a smile pressed between the dark ears while one of
Fyodor’s tails itches with the memories of an old wound. Of pain he didn’t ask for, a fight he
couldn’t escape from.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He whispers, painfully gentle.
But Fyodor doesn’t listen, he can’t. The apologies leave his lips like a chant, broken only by
the sobs that strangle him with the suffering they carve into his soul.
“I’m sorry.”
He hates himself for going out that day. He hates himself for not being careful, for not
running away, for not being strong enough, for being too young to win, too inexperienced.
He hates himself for how a part of him feels relieved.
“You don’t have to apologise, little one.”
Because seeing Shibusawa the way he’s been for the past decades is killing him, while all the
kitsune wishes for is to remember how he used to be. The time when the dragon’s smile
would shine with peace, not sorrow. The time when his words were like a gentle breeze, not
whistles of a storm that now wrecks his mind.
He wishes for what he has lost and… for the memory of it to never fade.
But it’s so hard to hold onto it anymore.
“I’ve known about it all this time.”
Watching him crumble into a man Fyodor doesn’t recognise anymore, into someone who
hurts himself with every breath he takes – it’s too much. Because it’s not just the fox—
The arms around him tighten, a faint tremble ringing in Shibusawa’s voice. “And I’m sorry
for keeping you here despite knowing you wanted to leave.”
—Shibusawa is growing more miserable every time Fyodor is around him, too.
It’s simply a different kind. He feels guilty for not being strong enough, for forcing the fox to
feel like this and letting him down despite promising to always protect him, all of them, and
—
He feels guilty for taking away his home, his family, by letting him go.
By not stopping him.
“I—I’ll stay.” Fyodor presses closer, his eyes and face burning from the spilled tears that
never seem to stop. “Ask me to stay and I will, just—” Another sob rips from his chest. “Just
ask me! Tell me I should stay!”
…but they both know he can’t.
He won’t.
They both know that if Fyodor stays, it’ll destroy them both.
“You’re free, little fox.” Shibusawa whispers into his hair, rubbing his back reassuringly.
“You’ve grown so much.”
The kitsune can hear it when two hearts shatter among the waters, when years and years of
happiness and sorrow come to an end.
“And I’m forever grateful…”
He can hear it, the voice that called out to him when he knew only cold and loneliness—
“...for having met you…”
—and he hears it for the last time.
“...and for having been allowed to stay with you until now.”
Fyodor doesn’t want to let go, he doesn’t want to be set free from this burden, but he always
follows his god’s word, no matter what. Because even when he’s like this, a broken shadow
of a mighty past, Shibusawa knows him better than Fyodor knows himself.
When they pull apart, the dragon’s hands cup his face, wiping away the tears only for new
ones to fall down the same path.
“But it’s okay now.” Shibusawa whispers with a smile, his eyes clear of any madness that
hides within. “If you wish to leave, you can go.”
Fyodor glances at the hole in the barrier, then back at the dragon, remembering their days
together. Remembering about Teruko’s joyful face when she combs his hair, Tetchou’s
flustered expression when Jouno teases the other boy, Tachihara’s bright eyes when he learns
something new, and—
“I…”
—among the memories, he finds only the broken pieces of his heart, not the freedom of a life
he hoped to lead here. With them. With Shibusawa.
It used to be there, but… isn’t anymore.
“Please…” He whispers. “Please, forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive for. Just promise me one thing, okay?”
Fyodor nods, and that single movement is more difficult than any of his training.
Shibusawa leans down and plants a delicate kiss on Fyodor’s forehead, blinking away the
tears he refuses to spill while the kitsune can still see him.
“Live a happy life, out there.” It draws another sob thom the fox when Shibusawa pulls away,
taking a step back. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to share it with. Someone you deserve.”
Turning away from the person who has been Fyodor’s entire world all this time is like
carving out his own heart.
Each step tears his soul apart.
Each breath feels like a stab to the chest and—
“Goodbye, my little fox.”
The moment he’s alone, out in the world that gave birth to him, Fyodor falls to his knees,
silent as his tears continue to fall.
Once again, he’s all alone.
Having lost his everything just to be free.
(And as the years will pass, madness’ roots shall grow, feeding the ivy of fear that chains the
dragon’s heart. The mark he continues to keep alive despite his fading power will fall weaker
and with it—
A plan will be born. A desperate attempt.
All to keep his family safe. All to… fulfil the price someone else is yet to pay.
A life for a life and…
Suffering for suffering.
Just like Fate wills it.)
—present time—
…it’s a question.
“Don’t.” Kouyou’s hand settles on Dazai’s shoulder, her petails putting out the fire around his
tails.
The fox glares at her with raw hatred, a growl resonating through his voice. “‘Don’t’? He’s
—”
“Already dying.” Squeezing his shoulder stronger, the spirit kneels down next to him and
Chuuya. “Death left its mark already.”
And once that’s done, there’s no escaping it.
Dazai hesitates but, eventually, his fires fade on their own when the sound of Chuuya’s
slowing heartbeat replaces the anger in his mind.
“Let’s get you to Akiko—”
“No.” It comes out weak, the redhead’s body heavy in his hold. “No, we need…” Now that
his fury isn’t keeping him awake anymore, Dazai can feel his consciousness slipping.
“...Mori. He… only he can help.”
Kouyou furrows her brows, but doesn’t argue. She glances to the side, briefly catching sight
of Hirotsu and Atsushi disappearing with the Akutagawa siblings and…
“Okay.”
In a swirl of pink and golden petals and drops of blood, she takes Dazai and Chuuya to where
their hope awaits.
But Shibusawa doesn’t notice it, his eye never truly looked at them even when the kitsune
was about to strike the final blow because—
A ghost of a memory he doesn’t have stands right there, in front of him.
A figure he’s never seen with his eyes but would recognise everywhere.
“You stayed.” Shibusawa’s mind whispers.
A tall man with purple eyes and nine black tails.
“Ah, is that how you look now?”
A single tear rolls down the bloodied cheek, Shibusawa’s lips parting as his smile comes back
to his face in the last moments of his life. Love in a place ruled by insanity, clearing the
clouds from his mind one final time.
‘I told you’, the kitsune’s mirage comes closer, his smile sorrowful as he kneels down in front
of the dragon, ‘As long as you need me, I’m here.’
“A…are…”
It’s difficult to speak, after having his throat destroyed, but—
“...are you…”
—even if he’s not a god anymore, he’ll make the impossible happen again. As many times as
it takes.
“...h…appy?”
Wherever he is.
It’s the one thing he has to know to go in peace, the only thing that has ever mattered to him
since the day a small hand slid into his own, and a fox child followed him from the land of
ice into the waters of a dragon’s home.
‘I am.’ Fyodor says, his hand settling on the bloodied, white hair without any touch behind it
to be felt. ‘But it’s okay now.’
//You can go.//
Even once the light is gone from his eyes, Shibusawa’s smile remains. His last breath blows
the mirage of his loved one away as his body starts to fade and the waters of his home come
crashing down all around.
It doesn’t matter if he’s fallen. Because when those who came to be as gods die, they perish
from existence – not a single trace of them left behind, not even a corpse to bury.
It’s only their memory that stays, carrying them into the future for as long as at least one
person remembers about them.
The dragon’s tear is the last to fade and with it—
Shibusawa’s home crumbles.
The first and last dragon’s duty was fulfilled.
The god is gone.
Forever.
“Can I ask you something, Fyodor–sama?” Sigma’s voice is rasped, still with a hint of ache
behind it despite the spell they used to help soothe the pain quicker.
They’re sitting on the engawa, Nikolai curled up in his cat form on Sigma’s lap as his injuries
from before heal, and Fyodor next to them. He’s staying close now because he can’t risk
Dazai coming back here if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, or if he’s too late to stop
Shibusawa’s plan, and hurt them again.
The fox glances at Sigma, quirking a brow as he waits for the question to fall, the forest
around them rustling lazily.
“When…” The boy hesitates, looking to the side as he chooses the correct words. “When the
thing with Chuuya–san happened…”
Ah, even after being threatened to be killed by a demon, the boy still worries about the friend
he used to have.
“When you asked me to help, you… didn’t seem happy about it, I mean—about the whole
plan…”
Humming to himself, Fyodor looks back at the trees, thinking about that time once more.
About the message he received by one of the rivers’ spirits. “Maybe I wasn’t.”
He didn’t actually know how he felt at the time.
He still doesn’t.
“And…” He can feel Sigma’s gaze on himself, but the fox stays still, waiting. “...if you didn’t
like it, why did you agree to do it?”
The smile remains on Fyodor’s face as the kitsune thinks over his answer, but his eyes are
clouded – looking into the distance beyond that which Sigma can see. He looks… sad, in a
way. Lost among the thoughts Sigma can’t enter, can’t help him find the exit of that maze that
he’s closed himself in.
“Because…” Turning his head to the boy, Fyodor offers him a smile that’s weak, but honest,
as his right hand brushes a loose strand from Sigma’s face and tucks it behind his ear. “...it
was the first time he has ever asked me for help.”
The first and last time.
Sigma’s eyes widen, his lips parting only to press together again, unsure of what to say, how
to react.
“The person who… saved you?” He asks, shy, and when the kitsune’s brows raise slightly…
“I heard it from Nikolai, but… it’s just it.”
Ah, of course, he did.
Fyodor nods, briefly scratching the sleeping cat behind the ears when—
“They must have been important to you.”
“He is.” Always has been, no matter how long Fyodor hasn’t seen him.
“Did…” He can hear hesitation mixed with curiosity in the boy’s voice, and sense the faint
hint of pity in his scent. “Did you love him?”
A part of him expected this question, but Fyodor still can’t stop the shadow that falls over his
eyes like a dark veil, even if only for a single heartbeat. He takes his hand away, looking
ahead into what only he can see.
Into the past he’s forsaken.
Into the mistakes he’s made.
“I do.”
He never stopped, no matter how much time has passed.
“I—” But Sigma’s words die in his throat when he sees… “Fyodor–sama?” When he sees the
black dragon around Fyodor’s wrist beginning to fade, breaking away from the skin like
balck dust.
“What…”
The kitsune looks down at his hand, just as surprised as the boy for a moment, but then his
features soften into… Sorrow? Regret?
Pain and… guilt?
…relief?
“Are… are you okay? Is—”
“It seems…” The kitsune’s voice sounds like a cry, but his eyes don’t shed any tears. “...that
you don’t have to worry about your friend anymore.”
“Chuuya–san…?”
“He was saved.”
Will he live, though? Fyodor doesn’t know.
But before Sigma can reply, before the apology slips from his lips when understand what that
really means, the fox stands up and takes a few steps away from the house.
“It’s okay.” He says, never looking at Sigma and the cat, and…
Somehow, the boy knows it’s not his place to disturb him. So, he takes the sleeping cat into
his arms and walks back into the house, leaving the kitsune to himself.
“I’m glad you’re finally free.”
Fyodor’s whispers are carried by the wind for no one to hear, as he watches the mark on his
wrist disappear completely. He used to hate it, hate what it reminded him of, but—
He also loved it.

More than anything else.
“I’m glad you’ve found peace.”
Even if his voice breaks down, there’s no one to witness it. Even if a single old tear comes
back to his eyes, trailing down his cheek – it’s between him and the world.
Between him and the one he waited for every year as a child.
Lost as a young demon.
Loved his entire life—
“Goodbye, my only god.”
—and will love for the rest of it.
‘I’ve found my happiness, so you can rest in peace now.’
Chapter End Notes
In case you mised it:

In this world, kitsunes’ mental ages and physical appearances are equivalent to human
ages as follows:
1 tail = up to 6 y/o
3 tails = 10 y/o
4 tails = 13 y/o
5 tails = 15/16 y/o
7 tails = 18/19 y/o
9 tails = full on adult mode
Also, yes, that other kitsune was Dazai. And YES, if he had never attacked Fyodor back
then:
- Dazai wouldn't have been 'killed'
- Shibu wouldn't have fallen
- Ace wouldn't have killed Shirase
- Chuuya wouldn't have had Baki put in him~
But that wouldn't have made for an interesting story, now, would it?
Now that that's out of the way...
YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW TEARY I GOT WHILE WRITING IT, when I
was updating the thread I actually wrote the entirety of it in one go (about 5h) and I
WAS SHAKING AND HICCUPING AND GETTING REALLY SAD because I really
like the kind of background I came up with for them BUT IT ALSO MADE ME SO
SAD LIKE THEY ALL JUST WANTED TO BE HAPPY WITH THEIR FAMILIES
Anyway, it's fine if you don't like Shibu even after this! But I love him so much it's
actually insane T_T
Also, I hope it doesn't need to be said but Shibu&Fyodor relationship is PURELY

platonic. Like, FAMILY. A father and son, or older brother and younger brother (which
is how I intended), you pick for yourself.
Reflections
Chapter Notes
When it happens, Fukuzawa can feel it – a breeze so delicate that it doesn’t even move the
papers on his table and, yet, reaches deep into his bones. A salty scent filling his lungs before
it fades forever.
A dragon’s last breath carried over the world he used to protect.
The world and everyone in it.
Which means it’s about now that…
“What about the rest?” Yosano asks once she’s done treating Hirotsu’s injuries.
She sensed him back at Dazai’s house, so his presence here isn’t that much of a surprise, even
if she didn’t expect to see Mori’s guardian spirit this badly hurt. Even with his wounds closed
up, the man will need more time to rest to recover enough strength to be able to walk again,
not to mention use his spells, and he’s still more lucky than the Akutagawa siblings were.
Yosano treated Ryuu and Gin first, but they’re yet to show any signs of waking up. They
were unconscious when they all arrived here and Yosano can’t tell if it’s exhaustion that
keeps them deep in their slumber, or if there are injuries so deep she can’t see them without a
thorough search. Their lives aren’t in danger anymore, they should wake up once their
healing takes care of anything Yosano might have missed, it may simply take a bit more time
like this.
The luckiest one of them all was Atsushi. With the other three in dire need of help, Yosnao
didn’t pay too much attention to the tiger before, but now that she glances at him, there seem
to be only shallow scratches here and there. He’s sitting next to the futon, where Ryuu and
Gin lay unmoving, fingers digging into his knees and his eyes never leaving the two wolves.
He’s silent, his body frigid and waiting for the smallest of signs.
But where is Kouyou? Dazai?
What about Chuuya?
Did it work? Did they fail? Or—

“They must be with Mori–sama right now.” With a tired groan, Hirotsu leans back down on
the futon, his body aching all over. “The human boy let it out again.”
Yosano’s eyes widen at the last bit, lips pressing into a thin line. She can’t say she didn’t
expect it to happen, but knowing that her predictions came true doesn’t bring Yosano the
same satisfaction it usually does. If anything, she wishes she had been wrong, just this once.
“He killed the dragon with it.”
…Chuuya killed Shibusawa?
“Well, he injured him enough.” The man trails off. “The last blow was Death’s.” Not that any
of them were there to witness it, of course.
“That’s…” …not what Yosano thought would happen.
Even if Chuuya weren’t able to finish the dragon off – his body must have given out under
the powers no human could ever hope to withstand – Dazai was there. Why didn’t he do it
himself? Wasn’t it what he was craving? Revenge?
Mercy isn’t in Dazai’s nature, his blood doesn’t know forgiveness, which means someone
stopped him. Someone who, most likely had a reason for it.
“Was it Kouyou that stopped him?”
It’s more Yosano voicing out her thoughts rather than a genuine question, but Hirotsu still
offers her a weak nod, making the woman wonder…
Was it mercy, then?
Kouyou’s nature isn’t as unforgiving and blood–stained as Dazai’s, but it doesn't mean the
spirit doesn’t know cruelty, because she does. Was it to make Shibusawa suffer longer? To
extend his last moments to make him feel death creeping closer and closer? It does sound like
something Kouyou would do to her enemies. Having Dazai kill him quickly would probably
be less painful than leaving the dragon to wither away, but…
“It didn’t have to be mercy.” Ranpo’s voice answers the doubts in Yosnao’s mind as the man
steps inside with a trey in his hands, placing a cup of tea next to Atsushi even though the tiger
pays him no mind. “It could have been compassion.”
…maybe.
The last moments of one’s life are special. Whenever Yosano sees Kouyou’s face when she
witnesses another being passing away, there’s something in it she can’t put her finger on.
Always there and always different.
What Kouyou sees in those moments, Yosano doesn’t know. She can only assume that it’s
something everyone, no matter their wrongdoings, deserves.
Something, perhaps… beautiful.

—
When Kouyou’s petals fade away into golden dust carried by the weak breeze, calm shadows
replace the disturbed waters as the stench of blood gives way to the soothing smell of the
ever–lasting night. It’s mind–numbingly silent for a second, every rustle of their clothes and
every struggling breath ringing far too loud in Dazai’s ears, and then—
Then, laughter fills the silence. Playfully light, a child’s giggle. It’s coming from all around
them as the sparkles shine and disappear around the cold statues, as the spirit’s sick
amusement only grows with every drop of their blood falling to the ground. It’s getting
closer, only echoing more cheerful when Dazai’s weak growl snaps at the sparkles that light
up too close to Chuuya’s unmoving body.
Is it suffering that draws the spirit to him, or is it what’s inside of the redhead?
Or is it Dazai, not Chuuya, that the spirit seeks out?
Whatever it is, the kitsune doesn’t have the time or the patience to think about it. Another
giggle rings to his right, cold breeze fanning over his broken tail and making Dazai’s blood
boil when—
“Yumeno, stop it.”
Mori’s voice cuts through the air with firm sharpness and the laughter dies not even a second
later, the spirit backing away into the deepest shadows cast by the silent palace as the god’s
quietly demanding presence leaves no space for Yumeno’s games.
Dazai watches as Mori gets closer, quick and without making a sound as the distance between
them disappears, feeling himself starting to give into exhaustion and his injuries. His vision is
blurred, darkening faster than the fox can will it to, and the voices around him sound as if
they’re coming from the other side of a thick wall. Anger kept him awake until now, a single
desperate need drove his body to its limits, and now it’s all slipping away from him but… He
can’t give in.
Not yet.
Chuuya’s body feels unnaturally heavy in his arms, eerily still. He’s barely breathing, waves
of freezing cold and burning hot fighting under his skin, and he has lost so much blood
already.
The moment Mori reaches them, one hand resting on Dazai’s shoulder and the other on
Kouyou’s, the stone figures and the black torii gate disappear, giving way to a lit up room
with the incense scent filling the air.
The room Dazai remembers from his youth, from the time he learnt how painful existing can
truly be.
A pair of dark red eyes looks over them, assessing the state each of them is in as quickly as
possible. “Dazai–kun…”
“Chuu…” With a fogged eye that can barely see, the kitsune looks up at Mori, his expression
strained with pain and exhaustion, but stubborn with only one thought behind it. “...ya. Not
much… time.”
Mori must know it, he must understand the state Chuuya is in even better than Dazai, or he
wouldn’t have acted this quickly when they got here. There’s a futon already laid out in front
of them, though there isn’t anything else the kitsune could call useful anywhere around. Then
again, as long as Mori knows what he’s doing, Dazai doesn’t need to question it.
If he starts, it may cost him his human’s life.
A life that is already almost out of his reach.
He doesn’t want to let go of the redhead’s body. Gods, Dazai would rather rip out his own
heart than let anyone take Chuuya away from him again, but he knows. He knows he has to
let go of him, lay him down and hope it won’t be the last time he does so. He can feel life
slipping from the smaller body. He can feel the way Chuuya’s soul merges with the violent
essence despite the spell around his neck, a dead god’s hatred poisoning his very being with
each second.
Because Dazai was too late to put the spell back on.
Because he was too weak to save Chuuya before it came to this.
Because he let it happen—
When Kouyou stands up and moves to lie down on the cushions in the corner of the room
with a deep sigh, Mori’s free hand settles on Chuuya’s forehead, his expression furrowed.
There’s no response from the boy, not even a single wince, or an unconscious whine escaping
his throat at the contact.
Only silence.
“I can still do it, cut it off, but—”
“Then do it.” Dazai hisses weakly, tasting blood on his tongue as his head begins to spin.
“—but I need him to want it, or…” Or Mori may face the consequences of interfering where
he’s not supposed to.
He’s already walking on a thin rope, having sent Hirotsu to help with the rescue in the first
place without being asked to. In any other case, it could have been enough to lose his
godhood, only the connection between him and Dazai allowing Fate to turn a blind eye to
Mori’s choices. But it doesn’t make the rules disappear completely, doesn’t loosen the chains
binding the gods every move to the point of feeling comfortable with what he’s being asked
for.
He can do it, or at least he thinks he can. It’s not too late just yet, but they’re running on
borrowed time and it’s running out fast as hesitation creeps up Mori’s spine. Chuuya doesn’t
need to be a firm follower, it’s enough that he’s human and that he can pray, that he believes
in the gods looking over the worlds and can ask for their help—
“He does.”
Weakly, one of Dazai’s hands grabs Mori’s kimono, a single red eye shining with unwavering
determination as it meets the god’s gaze.
“He… did.”
Before everything went wrong, Chuuya agreed to it, he agreed to put his life in Mori’s hands.
Even if only Dazai was there to witness it, even if Chuuya’s permission couldn’t reach Mori’s
ears – Fate must have heard.
“I…” With each second, Dazai can feel Chuuya fading away. “We’re married… our souls…
are one…” The kitsune feels dizzy, Mori’s image blurred in front of him. “So I… know…
and…”
Even if it’s not enough.
Even if not exactly how it’s supposed to work, because Dazai isn’t human.
Even if they can’t even be sure it’ll work—
“I will pray… so you…” His hand is trembling, fingers losing their grip as the fox’s strength
leaves his body, and his voice pleads. With Mori. With Fate. With anyone that can listen.
“...save him.”
—Dazai will try anything to save Chuuya.
“Please.”
No matter how selfish it is, or the price he, or anyone else, would have to pay for his wish to
be granted.
“...” Mori looks between him and Chuuya, thinking over all the possibilities and risks and
what he may be putting on the line if he takes this leap of faith and… before Mori knows it
himself, he makes a choice.
Not as a god, but as a parent would.
A single nod is enough for Dazai to finally succumb into exhaustion and his injuries. The fox
slumps down on the god with a strengthless exhale, Mori’s arms the only thing keeping him
from falling to the ground and onto Chuuya’s unmoving body.
“Dazai–kun!”
Save him.
He can feel Mori laying him down on the floor next to the futon, Chuuya right next to him on
the thick comforter after the god has taken him from Dazai’s arms, but the kitsune can’t move
anymore. He can’t call out to his love, he can’t reassure Chuuya it’ll be fine.
Save him.
There's a loud ringing in his ears but it’s nothing compared to the deafening silence
surrounding his and Chuuya’s souls. To the void deprived of the music it used to be filled
with, of the melodies Chuuya’s heart would sing only weeks ago. Right now, there is nothing
but the faintest echo of…
Save him.
“You might want to hurry up.” Kouyou’s tired voice sings from a distance, earning herself a
brief look from Mori. “Death seems very eager to take back what is already its. It won’t wait
much longer.”
Save him.
“Dazai–kun.” Mori’s hand moves to Dazai’s cheek, guiding the fox’s head to turn and his
eyes to meet the god’s. “I don’t know if it will work.”
Save him.
“But no matter what happens…”
Save him.
“...you must hold onto Nakahara–kun and the bond.”
Save Chuuya—
IT HURTS!
But it felt good, didn’t it?
EVERYTHING HURTS!
To let the power rage?
STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!
To kill with your own two hands?
I CAN’T BREATHE!
It felt so good to be free, didn’t it?
MAKE IT STOP!
And it can feel even better.
I CAN’T! I CAN’T! I CAN’T”
If only you give in.
MAKE IT STOP!
If only you give up.
MAKE IT—
’Save Chuuya’
The kitsune doesn’t answer anything, but Mori can’t wait for him to find the words. The best
he can do is believe Dazai heard and understood him, and that it will, by some miracle, work.
Not once did Mori ever promise that Chuuya would survive. From the very beginning, he
was honest – he said the chances are more in favour of Death, rather than the human. He said
that there would be a chance for the boy to survive, not a promise. Right now, Mori isn’t sure
if he would say the same thing if given the opportunity, but… He has to try.
A prayer and a distant cry reached him.
Two souls seeking help as one.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Kouyou’s sceptical question is met with bright
eyes shining at her with the powers at work that she hasn’t seen in ages, with the half smirk
that drips confidence, while—
“Oh, not at all.”
He only knows the theory… sort of.
Mori’s words leave her speechless as she tiredly watches as the god’s hand dives into
Chuuya’s chest without spilling a single drop of blood, or cutting the boy’s skin and flesh. It’s
not exactly the first time she sees Mori perform one of his procedures, though she doesn’t
witness it often if she can help it, but it’s like nothing she has ever seen before. At least not
here.
The moment Mori’s hand disappears into Chuuya’s chest, scarlet and black flames explode
around the two of them, held together by five, golden threads and…
A single blue one, thinner than the rest but just as bright.
Just as strong.
DAZAI!
He said he won’t do it, don’t you remember?
STOP IT! PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP!
He said he won’t grant you your wish.
IT’S TOO MUCH!
Why would he, anyway?
IT HURTS! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!
Isn’t it better this way?
DAZAI!
You don’t need him.
DAZAI!
You never needed him.
DAZAI!
We don’t need him.
DAZAI—
“Have you had enough already?”
It’s Chuuya’s voice, but not his words. Not his lips that move to speak.
Curled up on the floor, or maybe in a pool of blood, or maybe he’s just floating among the
shapeless darkness while his body twists and crumbles, Chuuya’s eyes open. His vision is red
from the blood that burns inside of them, blurred with dark flames eating him away, and what
he sees among the anguish of it all is…
“You're struggling again. It’s annoying.”
…himself?
A figure among the shadows that looks just like his reflection, but with bloody red markings
carved into his skin and white, soulless eyes staring right back at him.
“Why won’t you just give up?”
The figure’s grin is wicked, sick, stretching so far Chuuya can feel how much it hurts his
face, but he can’t stop it. It’s a reflection and, yet, it doesn’t mirror him. Instead, it seems to
have a mind of its own, a body of its own – a body free of pain, while Chuuya is drowning in
it.
Wh…o…?
He can’t speak when blood floods his lungs and throat. He can’t speak when his body twists
in pain, his bones breaking with every smallest move. It’s cold here. Then, it’s hot. He shivers
and sweats and it’s all just too much—
“I’m you.”
The other Chuuya kneels down on the nothingness that digs into Chuuya’s body like a
thousand knives piercing his skin from all directions. The figure tilts his head, empty eyes
staring down at Chuuya with amused satisfaction.
“The part of you that doesn’t fight it.”
IT HURTS!
IT HURTS SO MUCH!
“It doesn’t have to.”
A hand cups Chuuya’s cheek, and it melts through his skin. The markings dancing on the
other boy’s palm seep into Chuuya’s soul and burn it into ash.
“If you just give up, it’ll stop.”
MAKE IT STOP!
“You’re doing this to yourself, Chuuya.”
NO!
DAZ—!
The grin on the figure’s face is hollow, bottomless with despair that hides behind it, with
hatred that thrives in the darkest corners of a long lost power.
“Who are you calling out for?”

D—!
“Who?”
He… who was Chuuya calling out for just now?
He doesn’t know. He can’t remember it through the pain and agony. It was right there just a
second ago, but now it’s gone, as if the figure’s questions erased the name from Chuuya’s
mind.
Who… who was it that promised to save him?
Who was there when Chuuya thought he was alone?
Who…
PLEASE!
“Sure.”
The red markings come to life with black flames as the figure’s hands come down to
Chuuya’s neck and squeeze as Chuuya’s body feels like it’s hanging from where the other
boy keeps him above anything to support himself on.
“I’ll make it stop for you.”
D—!
HELP!
“And then it’ll be only me, okay?”
NO!
GO AWAY!
STAY AWAY—!
“It’ll only take a second mo—”
The figure’s words are cut short when a thin line stretches across its face, dark and cold
among the burning fires. It freezes its movements for a second, but then…
“No, you don’t.”
The other Chuuya hisses at him, his fingers tightening around Chuuya’s throat and his grin
twisting into something more feral, more impatient as another line cuts across his body.
Chuuya can’t breathe, can’t fight it, his hold over his body and mind is slipping and he can
feel life slowly fading away from his veins…
GET OFF!
But he has to do it, even if his struggling is pointless. Even if it’s like fighting a losing battle,
he can’t give up before the last pieces break. For as long as there is a single spark of will in
his soul, Chuuya will try.
GET OFF!
Because someone is waiting for him out there, even if Chuuya can’t remember who it is.
Because someone promised to be there and… because someone needs him.
So, he reaches to the boy’s wrists, fingers digging into the arms keeping him suspended in air
and his legs kicking over the non–existing ground. He struggles and fight and it’s not enough
but then—
A gold thread shoots from the darkness, wrapping tightly around the figure’s arm. It shines
brightly in the nothingness around them, dark smoke evaporating from where it meets the
boy’s skin.
“You don’t want this!”
The other Chuuya hisses when a second golder thread wraps around his other arm, sending
another wave of smoke to leave his body until, just like with his other arm, there is no more
of it left.
“You don’t want to be weak!”
GET OFF!
More and more cuts appear on the figure’s body, five golden threads pulling it away from
Chuuya and ripping it apart, digging into its body to shred it into pieces as the dark smoke
leaves his body in twisting clouds that seem like snakes slithering away.
The other Chuuya screams in agony, black blood streaming down his body and this time,
every line and every cut mirrors itself onto Chuuya’s skin.
IT HURTS!
For once, they’re both a reflection of one another.
IT HURTS!
For once, they feel each other's pain as if they were one.
IT HURTS!
There is only blood, only pain, only one final wish for everything to end—
’Chuuya!’
He’s so tired of it, of everything. Hasn’t he done enough already? Why must he continue this
futile struggle? Why did he think he had to do it in the first place?
’Chuuya!’
He doesn’t care anymore. He just wants to close his eyes and make it stop.
’Chuuya!’
But there’s a tingling sensation resonating through his right arm, barely enough to break from
the background of agonising pain and reach Chuuya’s mind.
’Chuuya!’
It’s annoying. So incredibly annoying and infuriatingly persistent.
’Chuuya!’
It doesn’t give up, no matter how the redhead wishes for it to just let him go, to just stop and
go away.
’Chuuya!’
There’s a blue thread tied to his wrist that doesn’t burn away no matter how hot the flames
around it get. A soft touch that brushes his torn skin with pitiful gentleness among the sea of
blood and fire.
’Chuuya!’
(D…?)
He was calling out for someone before, but it feels so long ago that he can’t remember
anymore. He doesn’t have enough strength to remember.
(Daz…?)
But, somehow, among the pain that numbs his mind and takes away his will to fight…
(Daza…?)
Chuuya wishes he could remember that person.
(Dazai?)
Because he feels like he loved them a lot, back when he still could.
’CHUUYA!’
—
//Do remember this name well, little human.//
Ah, sorry about that.
//...will you be staying here until spring?//
He did. He… he’s glad he did.
//I love you.//
It feels so warm.
//I don’t want to die.//
//I don’t want to lose you either.//
//What if it doesn’t work?//
It’s more peaceful than he thought it would be. Calmer.
//What if I forget you? What if I come to hate you when it’s done?//
//Then I’ll—//
Ah, but it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?
“Wake up, Chuuya.”
Chapter End Notes
Weeeeeeell, sorry about the wait. I got some very troublesome news on Monday and
didn't have the time to edit :') but everything should (hopefully) be taken care of now
soooo I'll edit the next chapter tomorrow and post is over the weekned so you'll still get
two updates this week!
Alsoooooo, you may have noticed I put in the final chapter count and that is because the
first draft/twt thread has come to an END last week :') I tend to add more scenes into the
ao3 version so the count may still go up by 1 or 2, but for now that's what I think it'll
end up being~
A Wish
Chapter Notes
Not a single sound taints the silence that has settled in the long hallway, in the part of the
palace that has been ordered to remain empty. Not even the quietest rustle of clothes dares to
echo among the endless corridors as Mori walks down the same path he did so many times
before. His eyes stare ahead, head held high – more a habit than anything else – but his mind
wanders.
To everything he knows, every rule he’s made to follow.
To a day long lost in the years gone by.
To a boy and a secret.
Mori thinks of the past not many were told about, of the choices and have led him and
everyone else to where they are now. To great happiness and even greater sorrows, to
decisions made out of desperation and miracles that will be written in the records for the first
time. To yesterday, when—
When a splash of colour lights up the dark corridor in front of him, Mori stops, his mind
coming back to the reality of the here and now.
“Are you leaving already?” The god asks despite knowing the answer already.
He watches Kouyou turn away from the door to face him. Her clothes are clean and her hair
pulled up into an elegant bun, red locks falling at the side of the face. There are no visible
wounds, no blood to be seen where it used to be not so long ago. She looks refreshed, though
the shadows are yet to fully fade from her expression as she offers the god a small nod.
“I am.” The spirit’s smile is tired but relieved, her eyes lingering on the small tray Mori is
holding for a long second before looking up again. “I need to check up on Ryuu and the
others, and I have my own responsibilities to take care of, too.”
The god nods, feeling both relieved and guilty about having Kouyou go and see how the
young demons and Hirotsu are doing. It’s not that Mori doubts Yosano’s skill, and he can feel
his guardian spirit being alive, but… If he could go and see it for himself, he would.
But there are duties to be tended to and worries to be taken care of.
No matter the chaos within the hearts that surround him, Mori cannot abandon his
responsibilities for the sake of his feelings.
“Thank you for helping them.” He ends up saying, hoping it’s enough to convey just how
much he appreciates Kouyou’s help. Without her, even with Hirotsu and the rest of them
present, Dazai wouldn’t have made it out alive.
Not him. Not the human boy…
“I would say it was my pleasure, but it really wasn’t.” Taking out her fan, Kouyou opens it in
a single, elegant motion without making a sound, then covers her lips with it. “Should I ask
Akiko to release your guardian spirit and have him return here?”
“No need. Let Hirotsu rest for a bit longer.” Mori offers her a weak smirk. “I can look after
things for a while by myself.”
He did it before, a long time ago, when there was only him in the huge palace, and he can
still do it now. It’s a good distraction if nothing else.
A hum. “Well, then.” A flowery scent fills the still air as pink petals burst from under
Kouyou’s feet, gold dust illuminating her figure. “Until next time, Mori–san.”
With those last words, the spirit is gone, leaving the god by himself in the empty hallway.
Letting out a sigh, Mori starts walking again, accompanied only by his thoughts and the
distant auras of everyone in the furthest corners of the palace reaching him. There is cheerful
mischief among it, probably Yumeno’s. There is curiosity and anxiety coming from where the
lower demons at his command reside. As a god, Mori can feel it all, he can sense everything
that is going on in his domain, no matter whether it wishes to be known or not, and—
He can also sense the sorrowful hope coming from the other side of the door that Kouyou
was standing in front of before.
The silent despair and guilt, and the nothingness that gapes right next to it.
When Mori knocks at the door, only silence answers him. That, and the faint shuffling sound,
too quiet to be heard by anyone else but the god. It’s not an answer, it’s barely an
acknowledgement that the person inside did hear him.
Not a warm welcome, but also not a rejection.
“...I’m coming in.”
The door opens before him without the god ever touch it, revealing the lit up room with
barely anything to fill the vast, empty space, and among it all—
Dazai.
Sitting up in the middle of the room.
With Chuuya’s sleeping body in his arms, the boy’s back resting on his chest.
The kitsune’s wounds have mostly healed – with Mori’s help, of course, not that the fox was
awake to witness it – and he’s wearing the clean clothes the god has left for him before. The
same as Chuuya. The boy’s body was cleaned when Mori wasn’t here, the bowl of bloodied
water forgotten in the corner of the room together with dirty towels. There’s liquid splashed
on the floor all around it, as if someone pushed it to the side with too much force and not
enough care.
But Mori doesn’t mind, he barely even notices it.
Instead, he meets Dazai’s red gaze, sees the way his ears and tails are stiffly alert, how his
arms cage the boy in a tight but careful embrace, and—
“You should say something if you’re awake.” There’s so much Mori wishes he could say, but
he doesn’t know how. He never did.
The fox’s eye never leaves him when the god steps closer, following his every move. It’s not
quite threatening, but there is uneasiness behind it. A tingle of discontent, however weak.
“What for?” Dazai says eventually, but his voice lacks its usual nonchalance. “You know
about it even without me saying anything.”
Well, he’s not wrong.
Dazai’s voice has never been gentle and Mori doesn’t blame him for the sharp tone,
especially not in this situation. The sole fact that the fox isn’t attacking him right now is more
than the god thought he should expect from him. It would be an overstatement to call it trust,
with how closely Dazai is watching his every move, but…
For Mori, it’s enough.
It’s more than he believes he could ever hope to ask for.
“I would still appreciate it.” The god says, placing the tray on the floor next to the futon
Chuuya should be on, before sitting down himself. “How are you feeling?”
“Not dead.”
“Dazai–kun—”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Mori–san.” Dazai’s fingers twitch, but his arms don’t dare
tighten their hold around the boy any more. His tails stir, torn between wrapping around the
unmoving body and being too afraid to hurt it with the smallest touches. “Tell me what is
happening to Chuuya.”
Mori’s eyes can’t help but fall down to the redhead as the god thinks of an answer. He knew
the question would come, he had time to think about it before he came here, and yet—
“He’s… alive.”
—there is nothing he can come up with to make this easier for the kitsune.
No answer, only a cold look that demands an answer pierces through the air separating them,
bright with crimson that shines in Mori’s own eyes.
The god lets out another sigh at the lack of words before speaking up again. “He’s not in any
physical danger anymore if that’s what you’re worried about.” He can see both relief and
concern fighting in Dazai’s eye, fiercely tugging at his mind without either winning over the
other.
“When is he going to wake up, then?” The kitsune asks, forcefully keeping his voice levelled,
however…
Dazai’s patience is appreciated, but it doesn’t change anything. It can’t.
Gritting his teeth, the fox asks again. “Is he going to wake up?”
There are dozen different answers Mori could offer – hopeful dreams of a reunited love and
brutal scenarios of lasting sorrow – all of them born from a grain of truth, but—
—when he looks at Dazai, at the desperation the fox tries so hard to conceal behind the mask
of anger and distrust, Mori can’t bring himself to weave lies of hope into his words. Not even
to soothe some of the lingering worry, and especially not to offer a future that may never
come true.
“I think he will.” The god adds after a second of silence, his gaze sliding to the redhead once
more.
Except for the now clean skin and the injuries that have healed under Mori’s spells, Chuuya
looks exactly the same as when the god last saw him: asleep, unmoving, blissfully calm.
Unaware of the world around him, both his eyes and his soul deep into their slumber.
He’s alive but… he isn’t here. Not really.
His body remains breathing and his heart continues to beat, but that which makes the human
who he is, it’s silent. As if it was gone completely.
Dazai’s eye narrows at him, patience giving way to a hint of growing distrust. “You ‘think’?”
“I did what I could, Dazai–kun.” Mori says, unbothered by the kitsune’s accusing tone. “The
rest is up to Chuuya–kun and…”
Fate?
Luck, maybe?
But the fox doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, the crimson in his eye growing stronger
and his tails tensing up, impatient.
“He’s like this thanks to you.”

Well, at least it’s not ‘because of you’, which is what Mori expected to hear from him.
“So you must know something.”
“I know he’s asleep.” The god’s voice is carefully colourless, slow as he picks his words.
Because even if Mori can’t feel it the same way Dazai does through the bond the fox shares
with Chuuya – the god can see it. Chuuya’s body, mind and soul, all frozen in a state right at
the edge of life but still within it, a flinch away from Death’s grip.
It wasn’t easy to cut Arahabaki’s essence off. It had to be done not only carefully, but also
extremely precisely. Leave too much of it and the damage will continue to spread, ripping the
boy’s body apart from the inside. Cut off more than necessary and graze the part that has
already merged with the human’s soul – Chuuya dies.
It had to be done right along the border of the redhead’s soul and, given the circumstances
and the state the boy was brought in, there was more risk to it than there was hope.
Using Arahabaki’s powers and allowing the hatred that gives the old essence its strength to
rage made the flames of it all too violent, the edge of what was Chuuya and what was not too
blurred. It opened a door that never fully closed after, not even with the spell around the
boy’s neck. What should have laid still began to flow, to change so quickly Mori could barely
see it, let alone understand it.
But, somehow, he did it.
Be it by skill, or pure luck – no one cares anymore.
What matters is that the part of the essence that was making Chuuya’s soul and body
overflow and break apart was cut off and released into the world. It scattered all around,
penetrating the dimensions without interfering with them and settling down where it was
missing – all as it should be.
However, the irreparable damage had already been done by the time Dazai brought Chuuya
here. Mori told them to avoid it if they didn’t want to make things worse, and even if it
wasn’t the boy’s fault, not a rational decision he made but only a desperate cry for help from
something he couldn’t understand—
Chuuya let the powers lurking within him out.
He opened his soul to the dead god and invited him in.
The part that had merged with Chuuya, tainting his very soul, was much bigger than when
Mori saw him for the first time.
Even now, as the god looks at him, he can see it. The darkness that flows and swirls around
the light of a human life. The bloody fire that dances with the gentle flames of a determined,
but unconscious, soul.
It’s not enough to hurt the boy, not anymore, but it is enough to make a difference. To latch
onto a part of Chuuya and bend it to its will, creating a person within the redhead that would
both be and not be him.
Mori saw it happen when he cut Arahabaki’s remains off. He saw the way the two forces,
god–like and human, collided and—
How neither of them won.
Instead of burning hatred’s victory, or a bright love’s triumph, Mori witnessed how
everything inside of Chuuya fell silent. Both parts of the violent battle – defeated.
Usually, no matter the state a person, or a demon, is in, their souls remain a mirror of their
very lifeforce. Even when they sleep, it’s like gentle waves of a peaceful night, or a raging
storm from their nightmares. It’s always something, but with Chuuya…
The boy is silent.
Not a single ripple in the surface of his soul.
Not a single whisper to be heard, or an emotion to be felt.
Nothing.
“...and that you’re concerned about him.” The god adds, finding no words that would remain
honest while also giving hope to the kitsune.
But the human is alive.
He’s in there, somewhere, just… he doesn’t know it.
“But there is nothing more I can do for Nakahara–kun in his current state.” Mori doubts there
is anyone who could be able to help.
Dazai’s voice rings around a low growl, his fangs flashing from behind his lips. “You’re
going to let him stay like this?”
“I’m afraid that’s the only choice we have, Dazai–kun.”
“You aren’t even going to check if—”
“I don’t have to.” Mori cuts him off. “I can see it. I can’t help him anymore.”
“Why are you here, then?!”
“For you.”
The last word comes out stronger than Mori intended it to. More unrestrained and much more
honest than neither of them is comfortable with, an echo deep from within the god’s heart.
Immediately, the anger in Dazai’s eye and body shifts into cautious confusion. It’s not distrust
per se, but it’s close to it – or rather, it wants to be close to it. The kitsune's gaze is
calculating, searching for the smallest signs that would make him suspect the god, that would
give him an excuse to leave and take Chuuya with him.
A single bad look is all Dazai needs.
A single ill thought—
“...I came to check up on your injuries.”
But there’s none, and it makes it all the more difficult to think about what it may mean.
Because there's a difference between Mori helping them out of a weird sense of duty, or to
prove that he can do the impossible, and him doing something like this. Something
excessive.
Not needed.
Without a reason.
Again.
It awakens the part of Dazai that stirred when he saw Hirotsu coming to help them, and then
acted up again when the man confirmed why he was there. It's a part that has never made
much sense to the fox, always causing more confusion than it was worth it. But the kitsune
ignored it long enough for that part of him to stay asleep, forgotten—
Red eye turns darker than black, his voice low and emotionless. "Why?"
—until now.
If there are several questions hiding behind a simple ’why?’, neither of them acknowledges it.
They both choose the obvious one. The one that’s easier.
Mori holds his gaze, calm as he distances his own feelings from the conversation on purpose.
The crack into his heart that appeared before not gone, but well masked.
"I treated you." He sounds like his usual self now, with a layer of unintentional superiority
that Dazai remembers growing to hate when he was younger. "Whatever you may think of
me, it shouldn't be surprising that I'm trying to see it through to the end, Dazai–kun."
Something about it irks Dazai the wrong way. It’s not just the voice that Mori uses, but the
fact that he’s using it to hide from him. "I'm not one of your subjects anymore."
"But you are my patient." Mori looks like there's something else on the tip of his tongue, but
the god keeps himself well in check. "That's enough for me."
After a moment of silence, Mori lets out another sigh – one that's more defeated than tired.
He runs a hand through his hair, brushing away the strands that escaped his ponytail and fell
over his face.
"But I see that it's not needed."
And yet, he doesn't move to walk away. Instead, he eyes Chuuya carefully – the peaceful,
limp body, the way Dazai is holding him while every fibre of the redhead is eerily silent. The
way Dazai's tails lie around him, shielding the boy from the world without coming too close.
"...what are you going to do now?" Mori asks, softer now.
Dazai could think about it for days and still not get an answer that would satisfy him. He
could ignore the question, choosing it to be something Mori doesn't need to know, but…
Maybe it's the faint serenity in the god's words. Maybe it's a habit of not letting him have the
last word, or maybe it's simply because Dazai needs to hear himself say it to trick himself
into feeling better. Into believing it.
Whatever it is, it melts the icy walls of his defence as his words make their way into the
world.
"I'll wait." He says, quieter than before, as if he was talking to himself and not Mori. "I'll stay
with him and wait."
Because this is the only option he has, isn't it?
At the end of the day, Dazai realises it all too painfully: he can never help Chuuya when his
husband needs him the most. He's helpless, while Chuuya fights his demons alone.
But if there is one thing the fox can do, it's to believe Chuuya will make it. That he'll win, the
way he always does, even when it doesn't always feel like it before they get there.
Mori doesn't say anything else, only nods and stands up, walking out of the room without
making a sound. It leaves Dazai alone with Chuuya's sleeping body, with unanswered
questions and old doubts coming back to him, and…
With a small plate of sliced peaches resting on a small tray.
—several centuries ago—
Excruciating pain. Suffering. It's all that exists for Dazai as his soul refuses to give in to
Death after having been shattered, after having been killed.
He can't move, or open his eyes, or breathe—
He can only feel the pain and do nothing about it.

Life slips from his grapes but Death won’t accept his end, only letting the agony go on and on
and on. It's like drowning in icy water, crushed by the pressure of the depths he's falling into,
while his insides are on fire, burning him into ash.
How long has it been since the dragon's fury killed him?
A second?
A day?
A century?
It feels longer, endless in the torment that just doesn't let go—
Until a soothing feeling of numbness washes over him, calming out the storm in Dazai's soul.
It leaves the damage as it is, broken debris of what once was a powerful being, but the
kitsune couldn't care less.
The pain, it's fading, and that's all that matters to him.
Finally, Death must have taken pity, or mercy, on him and—
“Rest, little one.” A voice whispers, and the young fox doesn't have the strength to question
its gentleness before his consciousness slips and pain melts into cold darkness.
…is Death supposed to sound like that?
Is it really supposed to… care?
When Dazai's mind awakens, it's slow.
The hint of an incense burning nearby fills his lungs, the sound of shuffling clothes reaches
his ears and..His body is sore, aching all over. It doesn't hurt to breathe, to move his fingers
and tails, but…
Why is he breathing, when he's supposed to be dead?
Why are his memories still there, when they aren’t meant to follow him into another life?
Squeezing his eyes, Dazai focuses on everything around him, trying to understand just what
is going on. He remembers drowning in liquid pain after the dragon shattered his life, being
ripped into shreds by the world itself, then a hand settling on his forehead…
A hand?
Trying to remember is making his head hurt, and it fuels the sting etched into his skin all
over, the closed up wounds pulling uncomfortably at each other.
"Take it easy." Someone says next to him and—
Despite the ache, Dazai's eyes shoot open.
Who said that?
His head snaps to the side, but his body refuses to jump away from where he's lying down.
The best Dazai can do is roll to the side and pull himself up on one arm, his tails ready to
fight the moment the stranger does anything suspicious.
Another question: where is he?
What is this place?
How did he get here?
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." The stranger says, looking somewhere next to the futon
Dazai is lying on rather than the kitsune. "You can stay down and rest more."
The face of the man kneeling next to the futon hides in the shadows cast by the long, black
hair cascading around it. His tone is gentle, but distant – like a gap that was created on
purpose.
Not only does he not look alarmed by Dazai's hostility, but he also doesn't seem bothered by
it in the slightest. The man seems calm, barely noticing the kitsune doesn't listen to him and
stays in the uncomfortable position without moving. He's focused on the bowl where he's
mixing herbs that smell weird to the fox – sickeningly sweet while also bitter to the core.
At the very least, he doesn't feel like a threat, this stranger.
It's not enough to have Dazai let his guard down, or relax, or trust the man, but—
"Who are you?"
It's enough to stop the fox from attacking someone he may not be able to beat with a body
that doesn't even want to move properly. And, as Dazai’s mind annoyingly points out, this
man must be at least a little bit stronger than him, because he’s able to conceal his powers
from the fox’s sharpened senses.
It’s not often that Dazai meets demons who could challenge him, and it irks him to admit it
even now, weakened from what has happened before darkness’ embrace took his
consciousness away.
The man’s hand stops, but no answer comes.
With focused eyes and already a dozen plans of escape forming in his mind, the kitsune
observes as the man puts the bowl down and lets go of it. How he straightens his back and
finally turns to look at him—
It’s a face Dazai doesn’t recognise. But the man’s eyes…
There’s something familiar in them, a glint Dazai has seen somewhere before.
“You can call me Mori.”
(In his own reflection, perhaps?)
“A god of medicine.”
A… god?
“Primarily, anyway.”
On instinct, Dazai growls at the god, uncaring about how it slips from his throat before he
can notice it. He’s been trying to force his impulsive habits out of his mind ever since he
became aware of them and it mostly worked well until now, but…
But Mori is a god.
And the last god Dazai met tried to kill him.
Letting out a sigh at the hostile reaction, Mori’s shoulders droop slightly. “I told you: I won’t
hurt y—”
“What do you want?”
Where is he? Why is he here? What happened when he was passed out? What about his—
With a slightly arched brow, Mori looks at the fox patiently, not a single sign of ill intent on
his face. “To help you heal. Isn’t that obvious?”
No, it’s not.
Why would he even—
“My soul.” Realisation floods Dazai’s mind like an ice cold wave. “What did you—” But
sharp pain piercing through his chest and head steals his words and replaces them with a
strangled groan. Dazai’s arm gives out under him as he falls back to the futon, groaning into
the soft pillow cushioning the fall.
Did Mori attack him somehow? When?
How did Dazai not see it?
Why does it feel like it’s hurting from the inside—
“I told you to take it easy.” With his eyes squeezed shut, Dazai can’t see the god move, but he
can feel gentle hands helping him to lay on his back, slowly guiding his body into a position
that hurts less. “You’re not fully healed yet.”
Confused and feeling a hint of desperation gnawing at his mind, Dazai’s hand shoots for the
god’s arm, fingers wrapping around Mori’s wrist when he tries to brush away wet strands
from Dazai’s forehead.
He doesn’t have enough strength to push it away but the fox refuses to act vulnerable in front
of a stranger. In front of anyone.
Forcing his eyes to crack open through the strain, the kitsune glares at the other man with
what he hopes is a brightly crimson sign of wrath, but…
“Let me help you, young fox.” Mori whispers gently, and his expression is beyond anything
Dazai can understand in his current state.
Too compassionate, his gaze too soft and his voice too calming.
“You don’t have to ask for it.”
…he doesn’t?
But gods are supposed to demand prayers, aren’t they?
“Just let me.”
It’s not exactly a choice he consciously makes when the fog in his mind gets too thick and his
vision too blurred, so Dazai allows it to be his excuse to let go of Mori’s hand and fall back
into the freezing void he doesn’t recognise as a part of himself.
As what is left behind of him.
“...what are these?”
It’s the first thing Dazai says when the door closes behind Mori’s back. He doesn’t try to
sound hostile anymore, his words aren’t laced with venom, mostly because, for whatever
reason, the god didn’t hurt him while he was passed out. He did even chain him down, nor
did he put any spells to keep Dazai from escaping.
It may still be an elaborate trick to gain his trust – which Dazai is not going to give up no
matter what the god may say or do – but when the kitsune woke up earlier, he felt fine. No
more pain. Not even the faintest memory of ache left behind.
He was alone in the spacious room, not bound by any spells or barriers – only with a tray of
food and water by the futon he was sleeping on.
And these. White bandages cover his arms, legs, torso and up to his neck, tightly sealing his
skin from the world. They’re light on his skin, barely noticeable when Dazai doesn’t focus on
feeling their presence on purpose.
But they are not made from normal material.
His skin feels strange underneath them. Not hurt, but as if the white fabric had been drenched
in ice water before being placed where it is. They don’t loosen no matter what, even if they
aren’t wrapped that tightly around him, and—
Dazai can’t get them off.
Not with his claws and not even with his flames.
With a new tray in both hands, Mori looks at the fox sitting on the futon and when his gaze
falls on the red scratch marks around Dazai’s wrists where the white material ends…
“You didn’t have to hurt yourself, young fox.”
He steps closer and sits down next to the futon, placing the tray on the floor next to the one
that has already been here before. This time, Dazai doesn’t try to move away, only following
the god’s every move with his eyes, ready for a possible attack but not expecting it anymore.
His three tails lie around him, the fourth one now fainter than he remembers it to be but still
present, and his body is rigid as Mori extends his hand towards him.
“Let me take a look.”
A red flash brightens up the dark eyes and… his right eye feels strange. “That’s not an
answer.”
“I’ll answer after you let me help you.”
Mori’s voice is too calm to try and fight against, and there’s something in the way the man
acts that makes Dazai swallow down his stubbornness for once. He has already made one
mistake with another god and paid the price for it, he isn’t willing to risk repeating that.
His claws remain sharepend as he offers his hands, hesitant.
He’s never been in this kind of situation – the one where he can’t dictate the rules, where the
other person isn’t trying to simply get rid of him, or Dazai of them. Mori’s fingers are
surprisingly warm on his skin – or is Dazai just cold? Why is it so cold? – and the spell that
washes over the red marks feels like silk sliding on his skin. It’s gentle and leaves not a single
scratch behind.
Satisfied with his work, Mori nods to himself. “There you go.”
It’s… convenient, Dazai will admit that much. Especially since, for some reason, his healing
powers have been unnervingly slow ever since he woke up.
It may be the bandages. It may be because of something he was given, or because of what has
happened before but—
“So?” The kitsune takes his hands away. “What are these?”
—he can't know if he doesn’t get any answers from the god.
Eyeing the tray that has already been here before, with not a single plate or cup touched, Mori
lets out a sigh. “You would recover faster if you ate it, you know?”
Mori holds his gaze for a long, silent moment, most likely hoping it would make the fox eat
the food he’s been offered, or at least take a sip of the lukewarm water, but… No movement.
No answer. Only another flash of red in the dark orbs as the fox waits despite his patience
running thin.
“...am I correct to assume you remember what happened before I brought you here? With
your orb?” The god eventually starts.
At that, he gets a small nod from the kitsune but still no words that would betray just how lost
Dazai feels.
“The damage couldn’t be undone. Your body wasn’t, and still isn’t, strong enough to endure
having all of your powers released like that.” There’s a shadow passing through Mori’s
expression, but it disappears before truly settling over the god’s face. “Especially after what
the dragon did.”
Suppressing a snarl, Dazai stays quiet, only the faint sting of his nails digging into his palms
keeping him from showing too much of how he truly feels.
“The bandages help to keep your powers contained and your body from falling apart. They
help you heal and stay healed.”
The last bit makes one of Dazai’s ears flicker, his eyes narrowing. “So I can’t take them off?”
He isn’t sure if he should believe everything the god tells him, but it’s not like there is any
reason why Mori would lie.
Plus, somewhere deep, Dazai knows there is no deceit in what the man tells him. It’s in the
small shivers he can’t suppress, in the pulsing underneath his skin and the slow process of his
powers coming back to him.
“You can. Well…”
Leaning forward, Mori slowly, so as not to alarm the kitsune, extends his arm to him, his
palm moving over Dazai’s wrist. With one move, the bandages are gone from around the thin
wrist—
“I can.”
—and with the second move, they’re back, leaving the fox with blown eyes.
“I’ll teach you how to do it yourself, but you’ll need to train before—”
“What was that?” Dazai cuts him off, his eyes wide as they stare at the bandaged wrist and…
Even if the fox doesn’t specify his question, Mori knows he isn’t asking about the spell, or
the white material anymore. He’s asking about what’s underneath it. About the marks that are
hidden from his eyes but map his entire body with a thousand black cracks.
There is no easy way to explain this, there’s nothing Mori can say, or do, to make the fox feel
better. He pities the young demon, because he knows kitsunes hate to be bound by the factors
outside of their own choice. They strive for freedom, only accepting those who they choose
themselves.
But that privilege, that right, has been taken away from Dazai.
At least for now.
Because as Mori offers him a mirror and the fox sees the black crack stretching over his face,
sees the storm raging behind his right eye and the endless darkness where it isn’t supposed to
be so—
It’s then that Dazai realises what Mori has already known ever since bringing him here.
Dazai can’t leave.
Even if Mori’s intentions were good when he picked him up, saving the kitsune bound him to
the god’s side.
Not explicitly, there’s no connection that can be felt, but… Dazai can’t control his powers the
way he used to. He can’t keep his body from falling apart. He can’t take the bandages off. He
doesn’t know how to make them appear once they’re gone—
It’s Mori who knows all of that.
Mori that can show him, train him, but—
Only if Dazai stays.
…and, once again, it doesn’t feel like a choice.
As Mori covers half of Dazai’s face with bandages, keeping the powers that can so easily slip
from the fox’s hold contained, they both know it: the kitsune will stay. He has to.
But he will not remain here, not forever.
As years pass by, many things change.
Dazai’s powers grow as the kitsune gains more tails, as he learns to accept the fact that this is
where he must stay, for now. He learns to accept how the vengeful spirit that once appeared
in Mori’s palace grows fond of him, and he indulges them in their games. He learns to
appreciate Hirotsu’s company.
Sometimes, out of boredom and the call of his own nature, Dazai agrees to carry out Mori’s
orders. Sometimes, he even enjoys them, feeding the side of him that’s starving for the cries
of sorrow he leaves in his wake.
There are days when Dazai doesn’t hate this life, days when the god’s house doesn’t feel like
a cage, but like something else. Something warmer.
But even if many things change over the centuries he spends under Mori’s care, one thing
always stays the same: no matter how much time passes, no matter how it wasn’t the god’s
fault to begin with—
Dazai never forgives Mori.
For being one of the older gods, the same as the one who almost killed him.
For taking away his freedom, even if he gave Dazai this new chance at life.
For always acting as if he almost cared, despite having no reason to. Despite being the one to
make sure there is a distance between them than neither of them shall cross.
Not even when the kitsune looks up at the black torii gate for what he believes will be the last
time, centuries after he first woke up in an unfamiliar place – not even now, does Dazai
forgive Mori for stealing his freedom.
With seven white tails behind his back, the kitsune gazes up at the torii gate he walked under
more times than he can count, or even remember. Always open, and yet – always sealed.
Only for him, for the one that couldn't leave.
Until now.
“Not even a goodbye, Dazai–kun?”
The voice calling out to him from behind doesn’t surprise Dazai anymore, he’s used to Mori
being aware of everything that’s going on in his palace.
The fox doesn’t turn around as he speaks, either, voicing his thoughts into the chilly air of an
ever–lasting night. “There were no greetings in the first place, were there, Mori–san?”
Silence answers him, and Dazai doesn’t bother with trying to sense the god’s emotions
through it. It’s too late for it.
But there is one last question that Dazai has never asked but always thought about. A feeling
which origins he couldn’t understand, no matter how much he looked.
“If I ask a question,” The fox says instead. “Will you answer it?”
“...” Mori’s hesitation should be enough of an answer but…“If I can.”

for once in his life, Dazai is willing to try his luck where everything else has failed him.
“What Shibusawa did should have killed me.” Truly killed him. It’s a fact as clear as a
summer day, a rule known to all kitsune. “But it didn’t.” Even if Death was right there.
Dazai could feel its graze on his soul, its breath fanning over his lifeforce. And, yet, its claws
didn’t reach him, they couldn’t keep him. Even when he stopped putting up a fight and gave
up, accepting the pain for what it was – his end. Consequences to a foolish mistake.
But then he woke up and lived to see another day.
Without his biggest treasure, without his life.
Dazai died and… continued to walk among the living with a beating heart.
He doesn’t understand how that was possible and no scroll, or a book, that he read was able
to offer him an answer, but maybe—
One more time, Dazai turns around to look at the god he’s been serving all those years. The
god that helped him heal and showed him how to strengthen his body and soul. The god that
trained him and gave him shelter when everything else was taken away from him.
The god that always seemed as if he wanted to say something, but continued to stay quiet.
The god that—
“Was that you?” Dazai asks, a dark eye with a red glint meeting a pair of orbs of the exact
same shade. The same, but worlds apart.
‘Was that you that kept me here? How? Why?’
It shouldn’t be possible for anyone to defy Death, not even for gods. But that’s the only
solution Dazai can think of, and the fact that Mori happened to, oh, so conveniently be there
at the exact time when it happened only makes his suspicion worse.
Because if not, if Dazai is wrong and Mori had nothing to do with it, only helped him heal
and nothing more… Then how did he know about it in the first place?
Why was Mori there, when the dragon’s fury fell upon him?
And why, against all the rules of this and every other world, is Dazai still alive?
“...”
One look is enough for the kitsune to know. He’s seen this face too many times – the one that
hides its secrets well, never letting its truths to be known.
Mori won’t answer his question. Maybe he doesn’t want to tell him, or maybe he doesn’t
know himself.
It’s like this, with an unanswered question lingering between them, that the fox leaves the
god’s side, walking away into the freedom he had to let go of in the past.
…and then, it’s only Mori that stands in front of the black gate, thinking back to another time
long gone.
A time when it all began.
—even more several centuries ago—
The room is dark, only a few floating fires lightning up the god’s desk. It’s quiet, not even a
single blow of wind disturbing his mind.
With his index finger, Mori circles the edge of his cup, the liquid inside long cold by now.
He’s thinking, and he’s waiting.
For a solution to appear. For an answer to become clear—
“I believe you called?”
For a friend to help him out when nothing feels right anymore.
Letting out a sigh, Mori rests his chin on the heel of his palm, looking at the other god
through the veil of messy black strands falling over his face. “Maybe.”
Met with both the humourless tease and the troubled appearance, Fukuzawa arches a brow in
something akin to a challenge. “Should I leave?”
A second passes too quickly when the dark and red eyes’ gaze falls down to the desk again.
“...don’t.”
They’ve known each other for a while now, Fukuzawa and Mori. Both of them reigning from
their own palaces long enough to have seen a new generation of gods to have risen and for
most of the older ones to perish. They fought each other and they bonded over their duties,
crossing paths more often than it should have been necessary.
But one once Mori ever gave up this quickly, no matter what trouble either of them was
facing.
Fukuzawa’s gaze studies the tired face for a while, taking in every detail until…
“Tell me, then.” He says, taking a seat on the cushion in front of the desk, opposite to Mori.
“What is it?”
The other god looks to the side, never stopping playing with his cup. “Can’t I wish to see my
dear friend without a reason?”
His only friend.
His only… Well, many things.
Rival, once upon a time. Companion, for many decades. And sometimes…
“You may.” Fukuzawa glances at the cup with the untouched tea inside of it, at the mess of
untended scrolls piling up at the desk. “But you seem troubled.”
Usually, that’s when Mori would try to put on an act. Try to make it seem like he doesn’t
need anyone’s help but he’s willing to consider Fukuzawa’s opinion on whatever the matter
may be.
“...”
But it doesn’t happen, not this time.
Instead, Mori’s finger stops and…
“I did something I didn’t mean to.”
For the first time in their long, long time with each other, Fukuzawa hears bare honesty in
Mori’s voice. Hesitation that the god detests.
It makes the other man confused even more than before. “...to your subjects?”
“No.” It’s not often that Mori refuses to look at him, which only makes Fukuzawa worry
more. “To myself.”
There’s a long pause before either of them speaks again. Fukuzawa trying to give the other
man space to elaborate and Mori… He’s trying to find courage, trying to accept what has
happened.
“I have…” His brows furrow slightly. “...a kitsune now.”
Surprised, Fukuzawa blinks at the other god. “A kitsune? Is a new servant troubling you?”
The corners of Mori’s lips twitch. “He’s not a servant. He’s…” His finger stills on the rim of
the cup, then his hand clenches into a fist, trembling barely enough to be noticed. “...an
offspring.”
A heartbeat passes.
Then another.
And another.
And another—
“You made a son?” The god more breathes out rather than actually asks, eyes blown wide.
Mori can’t blame Fukuzawa for his disbelieving tone, or for the confusion. Because it isn’t
something that happens often, or at all, even if it’s technically possible.
The first gods, those that live on only in legends, were a part of the founding stones of the
world. Their births filled the nothingness with everything that would once build life more
beautiful than them and all that surrounds it. Then, the raging fire of their demise moulded
dragons to take their place and protect the creations that were left behind to flourish across
the dimensions.
It was only after most of the dragons had already faded that the era of the new gods came to
be. The gods that are different to those who came before them.
Mori still remembers when his eyes first opened up to the world he would continue to protect
long after the little girl that gave him his life would be gone. A girl with a body so sickly
weak her entire life that her quiet voice wouldn’t reach another human – that her cries for
help would be left unanswered by those around her.
All her life, she suffered and prayed.
To a god not as merciful as the ones she knew of, but not so cruel to let a child wither in the
palm of cruelty.
To a god she willed into granting her wishes, even if her life had always been destined to be
cut short.
A god of medicine and revenge.
Someone who would heal those who needed his help, no matter how severe their wounds,
and someone who would see to it that debts were always paid in equal weight.
The gods that look over the worlds now are born from mortals' wishes, they’re the
embodiment of what the human hearts need at the time, and they remain in their palaces until
the last of their believers pray for them to look after their lives.
They come to be as humans wish for them to, and they stay the same way. Never knowing
what being a child means, never knowing what ageing feels like. Their bodies are made from
their souls, a physical appearance that isn’t meant to remain once their purpose has been
served.
But they can’t create life, not in the same way mortals can.
Their servants and followers are the gods’ families, the universe made it so that they
wouldn’t crave anything else, but—
Should they truly need to, they can wish a mortal being into existence.
The same way the y were wished into becoming gods.

But they shouldn’t. The gods’ most important responsibility is to care for their followers,
listen to their prayers and guide them towards a better future without forcing the choice onto
them. They can’t split their focus, abandoning their duties. They don’t – shouldn’t – want to
watch their children die before them, and that’s how it would always end.
Watching generations of their followers be born and die merely a blink of an eye later brings
enough sorrow to those who remain longer than anyone else. Over and over again, from the
time they come to be and until the last prayer reaches their ears.
“I didn’t mean to.”
Because he truly didn’t. It’s just that…
After another drought, after another famine and another plague… Even if he wouldn’t admit
it, Mori felt lonely. Losing so many of his subjects hurt him in a way he hasn’t felt in a long
time. Not being able to bend the rules and save them all despite every desperate prayer he
was made to listen to was devastating.
Among it all, among the deaths and cries of grief, Mori simply wanted someone to stay.
Someone he could save.
“I was tired and…”
Finally, their eyes meet and Fukuzawa can see it all: concern, guilt… and behind it all – hope.
Suppressed by the fears of having made a mistake, of having tempted Fate.
“...before I knew it, a drop of me was gone.”
A kitsune was born from a god’s wish, holding a part of them in his young soul. Too small to
be seen or felt by anyone who isn’t Mori himself, no matter how hard they would look. Small
but powerful.
(Enough to make the impossible come true when needed and save a life that was brought into
this world to stay for longer than most, even if not forever.
Powerful enough to become an exception.
From the rules that bind foxes to their orbs, and from the rules that bind gods to their thrones,
where they aren’t allowed to change the course of what has already been laid out to happen.)
Mori’s voice – how quiet and uncertain it rings – makes Fukuzawa soften his gaze despite the
faint uneasiness the god feels inside. “Is the fox here?”
“...no. I—I just keep an eye on him.”

A nod. “Will you bring him here?”
“...I don’t know.” Letting out a sigh, Mori slides his cup away. “That’s why I asked you to
come.”
Fukuzawa knows it, he can tell Mori feels lost, torn between choices neither of them have
ever expected to be faced with. However…
“I’m afraid that’s something you need to choose for yourself, dear friend.”
Because something like this, it can’t be easy.
The child came to be because Mori wished for it to, and having it here would fulfil that wish,
but… A kitsune cannot – should not – be held captive. Freedom is in their nature, much like
it exists deep in Mori’s heart. A wish that can never come true.
How fitting, Fukuzawa finds himself thinking.
The fox could be happy here, but he could also grow to detest it. Mori could find balance
between his love for the child and for his followers, or he could make a mistake he would
never forgive himself for. A mistake the world wouldn’t forgive him for.
“But no matter which way you choose, I think you should at least tell him the truth.”
Leaning forward, Fukuzawa brushes a long strand away from Mori’s face and tucks it behind
his ear, finding the god’s eyes more concerned than he’s seen them in ages.
“Or you may end up regretting not doing so one day.”
“...maybe you were right, my friend.” Mori whispers into the silent air, turning his back to the
black gate and walking towards the palace that hasn’t felt this empty in centuries.
This lonely.
“Maybe I do, now.”
But it’s already too late to make things right, isn’t it?
Chapter End Notes
Will I ever give a happy backstory to any of my characters........

The First Step Forward
Chapter Notes
—present time, a few hours prior—
Tetchou’s throat burns with pain from coughing up salty water and blood, his eyelids resting
shut under the blazing sun. It’s a struggle to even think about opening his eyes with how
much his body aches all over. He tried it before and was immediately blinded by the sun,
making the throbbing in his head that much worse.
The sand under his body feels warm, while the lazy waves splashing on his legs cool him
down, wetting his clothes and tail. It’s not the most comfortable feeling, but he doesn’t have
enough strength to crawl out of the water completely, so he lets it be.
It’s peaceful, but he can’t stay here.
His arms and legs don’t listen, but it won’t stop him.
Tetchou needs to move, needs to find the others and make sure they’re okay, and they all
need to go back to the water palace. Whatever the human unleashed was much stronger than
any of them expected, stronger than even Shibusawa expected it to be, by the looks of it. If
only they didn’t get in the way, if only the dragon didn’t try to protect them, then maybe—
But he did.
And now they need to go back and help him.
Tetchou has already wasted enough time lying in the warm and wet sand, willing his body
into moving with no luck. Where are the others? Did Shibusawa’s waves wash them up
somewhere here as well, or were they all scattered around the world? Jouno was badly hurt
even before, wasn’t he? They need to hurry up, Tetchou has to get up—
It’s just that his body hurts, more than usual. The dragon saved them from whatever the
human tried to throw at them, but the blow was anything but delicate and now…
“Mister?”
Ah, he must be even more tired than he thought if a human managed to walk up to him
without the wolf noticing.
Now that Tetchou’s mind is startled alert, he can sense it: the sound of someone’s breathing,
the rustling of clothes blowing in the wind, an unhurried heartbeat, the smell of… a young
human?
Opening his eyes, the wolf expects to be blinded by the sun but, instead, there’s a shadow
cast on his face by something obstructing the view of the sky, shielding him from sunlight.
A shadow cast by a child. With blond hair sticking out in every direction, big golden eyes—
“Are you okay, Mister?”
—and a smile that shines with innocence and genuinity the demon hasn’t witnessed in ages.
It catches Tetchou off–guard, halting his instincts from taking over and jumping up to defend
himself against a new enemy. A human child could hardly be called a threat, and this boy
doesn’t seem to have a single drop of malice in his being, only genuine concern and curiosity
swirling in the golden orbs.
“...I am.”
But what surprises Tetchou the most is how the child isn’t surprised by the ears that are still
very much visible. Or is his hair hiding them enough? But even so, his tail….
Relieved, the boy’s smile widens and his eyes begin to sparkle.” Ah, that’s good!” Then, he
cocks his head to the side, blinking at the wolf innocently. “What are you doing on the
ground, though?”
“...”
Are all human children this carefree about talking to strangers? Will he go away if Tetchou
gives him a dismissive answer? It would be a problem if an adult would come looking for
him while Tetchou is still here.
The wolf can say anything, it’s not like the child will know the truth from a lie, but… there’s
something in his bright smile and pure soul that makes lying a task more difficult than it
should be for a demon.
“...I’m looking for someone.” Tetchou ends up saying.
The child blinks, not a single spark of doubt, or suspicion, in his eyes. “In the sea?”
“...yes.”
“Oh, I see!” Straightening up, the boy looks up at the waves as if he’s thinking incredibly
hard about something, both of his hands resting on his hips as he takes a deep breath, then…
“I’ll help!” He exclaims, beaming with happiness and pride, while Tetchou…
To say he’s at a loss for words would be an understatement. A huge one.
Maybe it’s because he’s tired and the ache is numbing his mind, or maybe it really is the boy
that doesn’t make any sense to him – humans rarely ever do – but he doesn’t know what to
say to that.
Ask him why?

Decline, obviously?
Tell him to go away—?
“Well, I can’t swim yet…” The boy looks back down at him, offering a smile that could rival
the sun itself. “But I can look around the beach! So don’t worry! We’ll find your ‘someone’!”
During all of the time Tetchou had spent serving under Shibusawa, he never really had a
chance to interact with many humans. Whenever it was needed, it was Teruko’s
responsibility. Or Jouno’s, occasionally. But Tetchou would always stay away.
He never knew what to do, what to say to them. He knew Shibusawa loved his humans, all of
them, and never doubted his god’s feelings but, at the same time, Tetchou can’t say he has
ever truly understood where that fondness was coming from.
To him, humans have always seemed like creatures that know no morals, no honesty. They
rage wars on each other and blame the gods for their suffering, blame demons for leading
them astray while it is their own free will that brings them to their demise. Most of them,
anyway.
Be it Shibusawa’s influence, or natural indifference, but Tetchou doesn’t hate humans, he

simply prefers not to interact with them if he can help it. He has always thought that’s how
the world is designed – demons and humans keeping to their own worlds, any clash between
the two destined to end in blood – but then, Fyodor found a human that doesn’t match the
wolf’s perception, and this child…
Maybe it’s because the boy is still very young, but his words ring genuine. Pure. There’s no
ill intent in the golden eyes, no mockery, only innocent and unadulterated desire to help him.
Help a stranger.
“...” And it’s not enough to change Tetchou’s view on humans completely, but… “...hey,
kid?”
The boy hums a question, his face bright with excitement and determination.
“Behind you.” The wolf whispers. “I think someone is looking for you.”
“Huh—?”
“Kenji!”
When Kenji looks over his shoulder, he sees a girl running towards him, holding one baked
potato in each hand.
“Kenji!” The girl calls out again, and it makes the boy turn around fully, waving at her with a
bright smile as he takes a few steps towards her.
“Kyouka! Hi!”
Stopping right in front of him, Kyouka’s lips press into a pout, her hair messy from the
breeze and running. “Mum has been looking all over for you! Here—” She extends one arm
to him, offering Kenji a steaming snack. “She made these for us.”
At the sight of the offered potato, bright sparkles start to dance in the golden eyes. “Thank
you!” Then, when the girl’s pout doesn’t disappear… “I’m sorry, I was just helping Mister
find his friend.”
Kyouka’s pout softens into curiosity, then confusion as the girl’s brows furrow. “Helping
who?”
“Ah, I forgot! What’s your name—”
But when Kenji looks back behind him, the wolf is gone.
“...Mister?”
Only the quiet sound of waves washing at the shore answers him.
At the very least, the boy helped Tetchou force himself to move again. The encounter made
his mind focus on what’s around him, his senses waking up after being muffled by
exhaustion, and now…
Now, he needs to search for Jouno and Teruko.
The ocean’s currents scattered them around but, now that Tetchou thinks about it, they
couldn’t have ended up too far from where he did. They were all together when Shibusawa’s
tail pushed them out of the way, it wouldn’t make sense for them to end up in different parts
of the world. Or so the wolf hopes, anyway.
The water doesn’t carry the scents, which is a huge inconvenience in this situation, but Jouno
was hurt and bleeding, and Tetchou will always be able to trace it down. Even if it ends up
taking more time than he’d like it to.
Although… What if Shibusawa’s blow made it worse for the white wolf? What if he didn’t
regain consciousness and wasn’t washed ashore anywhere?
Is he somewhere at the bottom of the ocean?
Is he drifting somewhere far where Tetchou can’t reach him?
But even if the dragon wasn’t in his right mind, he’s been taking care of them for centuries.
God or not, the seas that answer his call wouldn’t have killed Jouno. Shibusawa wouldn’t let
that happen.
Right?
The ocean is too vast to search alone in Tetchou’s current state, but maybe if he finds Teruko
first… But that will make Jouno wait even longer. What if he doesn’t have that much time
even if—
Jingle!
The wolf’s ears shoot up at the same time a faint scent of blood tickles his nose, a scent
coming from within the forest growing at the border of the beach. It’s close and the smell of
blood is fresh.
Using every bit of strength left, Tetchou runs towards it, pushing away the branches that
scratch his face and—
“You don’t have to smell so… desperate.”
Jouno is right there, sitting under one of the trees with one hand pressed to his wound.
Bleeding from it and from several smaller cuts over his body, but otherwise fine. Alive.
“Jouno!”
The white wolf wrinkles his nose, his ears flickering weakly. “You don’t have to shout… I
can hear you just fine.”
Falling to his knees next to the other wolf, Tetchou takes a better look at the wound. It’s deep
but seems to have already started healing, but they should still tend to it to make sure it
doesn’t worsen suddenly or—
“I told you to stop it.” Jouno lets out a sigh and leans more on the tree, his tail unmoving on
the ground next to him. “You reek of stress.”
“Because you’re—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“But—”
“We don’t have time for this.” And yet, he doesn’t push away from the tree. “We have to find
Okura and head back.”
There’s fatigue painting Jouno’s voice with a hint of pain hiding underneath it, but it’s well
disguised under the mask of annoyance he shows to Tetchou. If anything, he sounds
determined about ignoring his own health for the sake of fighting again. And he’s right, they
both know that he is, but—
Tetchou’s brows furrow. “You’re hurt.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“But you’re not.”
A faint, irritated snarl slips from the white wolf’s throat. “Do you need me to show you that
I’m—”
“Still as stubborn as ever?” A woman’s voice rings not too far from where they sit. “No need
to, I can see it just fine, Saigiku–kun.”
Supporting herself on one of the trees, Teruko smirks at them teasingly. Her hair is almost dry
by now and only minor scratches taint her face as she looks at them with eyes that hold a
deep sorrow in them, sealing it away from her voice.
Anyone else, she could have fooled, but not them.
A frown settles on Jouno’s face as the wolf tries to stand up, uneasiness crawling under his
skin. The wound pulls at his flesh, the sting seeping deeper into his body and making every
smallest move unnecessarily more uncomfortable.
“Great, you’re here.” He says.
Tetchou’s hands fly to support him. “Jouno—”
“Now we can—”
“Rest.” Teruko cuts him off, her hand pushing him back down on the ground as she ignores
the groan it earns her. “Now we can rest.”
There’s no protest from Tetchou, even if the wolf feels somewhat uneasy about both Teruko’s
tone and about the idea of staying here while Shibusawa may still need their help. Jouno, on
the other hand…
The man’s brows knit together and his fangs flash as he speaks. “Rest?” He repeats, turning
his head to the girl. “Master needs our help. We have to go.”
It’s the same thought that fills Tetchou’s mind – only in his case, he wants to make sure the
white wolf is treated first and then they could go, but… Slowly, Teruko shakes her head, and
for a reason Tetchou can’t quite figure out himself, it makes his heart sink.
“No.” She says, quiet. “He doesn’t.” Then, she takes a deep breath. “Not anymore.”
It’s not so much her words, as the way she says it, that makes the two men fall silent. The
well–tamed sorrow that’s woven into her tone despite Teruko’s attempts at keeping it
concealed, the way she forces the trembling out of her voice.
For Tetchou, it’s the look on her face.

For Jouno, the smell of misery and, traitorously, relief that lingers on her.
It’s not a sense of victory that emanates from Teruko’s soul, not reassurance that she offers
them – it’s grief. Years of mental exhaustion coming to an end with a final blow that cuts
deeper than any other weapon could ever reach.
An apology.
“...no.” It’s Jouno, who finds his voice first. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”
The girl only offers him a sad smile and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. “But I can.”
And then, it’s the voice that the two wolves haven’t heard in many, many years that answers
Jouno’s objection. It comes from where Teruko appeared earlier, hesitant and with a guilty
hint that even Tetchou picks up on right away.
“And I do.”
Keeping his distance from the other three, Tachihara’s ears are low over his hair, his tail
hanging right over the ground next to his legs. He can’t look away, can’t run away anymore,
but it’s hard to look at his family at a time like this knowing what he’s done.
After he has betrayed them.
After he has caused this, no matter how good his intentions were.
Tetchou only stares at him with wide eyes, but Jouno’s voice turns venomous as he growls at
the other wolf. “What are you doing here, traitor?”
“He helped me find you.” Teruko answers before Tachihara has the chance to, her tone
growing firmer despite the pain that lingers in it. “And he’s not a traitor, Saigiku–kun. He’s
family.”
“Is that so?” The white wolf reaches for the sword that lays next to him on the ground. “So he
wasn’t the one to tell them how to get in?” His grip tightens, only Teruko’s hand on his
shoulders keeping him from doing what he craves to do. “Or were you, Michizou?”
A shadow passes Tachihara’s expression, guilt tainting his scent. “…I’m sorry.”
Somewhere deep, Tetchou feels a sharp sting in his heart, all the thought he chose to push
away and not believe in coming back to him. “You were…?”
“I didn’t have a cho—”
“Of course, he was!” Jouno hisses.
“Saigiku—”
“And now he’s trying to keep us from helping Master when—”

“I’m not!” Tachihara’s voice is more like a plea than anything else as the wolf takes a step
forward. “I’m…” He looks between Jouno and Tetchou, hating himself on the inside. “...you
can’t help him anymore.”
Despite the years that he has spent apart from them, despite knowing it would end like this
from the moment a white fox’s eye pierced through him – Tachihara’s voice still trembles as
he speaks.
“No one can.”
Even if a part of him, a part that was left behind by a scared pup that lives in the back of his
mind, doesn’t want to believe that.
“He’s already gone—”
“Do not dare.” Jouno’s arm flies up before any of them can stop it, throwing the sword
straight at Tachihara, who barely manages to avoid it.
If Jouno was at his best, if he wasn’t slowly succumbing to grief he fights not to accept –
then, it would have been fatal. But not now. Not like this.
Tetchou can only watch as the scene unfolds in front of him, none of it making sense because,
surely, it can’t be true?
Shibusawa can’t be gone.
He’s their family.
He’s stronger than anyone else.
He’s… he’s a god.
…right?
Teruko chooses to stay quiet, choosing to only keep Jouno from throwing himself at
Tachihara in blind rage, because she knows she can’t force any of them to believe it. They
have to make that choice, they have to accept it, or none of them will even move on.
Taking another step forward, Tachihara’s gaze turns desperate as the wolf tries to keep his
own grief chained away. An emotion he doesn’t feel worthy of feeling. “Jouno–san, please
listen to me.”
“Why would I?” Jouno growls, fangs bared. “You weren’t even there! Because you left and
—!”
“Because it’s the truth!”
“Says who?!” Rage flows through Jouno’s every word, his body trembling. It’s the first time
any of them have seen him like this, seen him this… desperate. Broken under the mask of
anger and mistrust. “Your new god?!”
It makes Tachihara hesitate for a second, a new wave of guilt pulling him deeper into despair
he’s been trying to suppress. “Y–yes, but—”
“How dare you?!” He tries to leap forward, but the others stop him. “After Master saved us?!
After he gave us—”
“Saigiku–kun!” Falling to her knees next to him, Teruko uses both arms to keep the white
wolf down. “Stop trying to fight Michizou–kun!”
“Please, just listen to me.” Tachihara finds himself ready to beg, his body trembling. “I’m
trying to help. I didn’t—I didn’t want it to end like this, either.”
“Stop saying that! Nothing ‘ended’—”
“But it did!” Tachihara’s voice starts to break. “Mori–sama told me—”
“I don’t care what your god told you, it’s—”
“The truth.”
Only silence follows that short, cruel statement as all four heads turn towards…
“It’s the truth, Saigiku–kun.” Fyodor says, looking at them with quiet sorrow in his own eyes
and a weak smile that holds only cold memories, not warmth.
The kitsune raises his right arm, the material of his kimono sliding down and revealing a
naked wrist, pale skin in place where once a dark dragon mark was kept. The three of them
can see it – Tachihara squeezing his eyes and trying to calm his breath, Teruko looking away
and Tetchou’s arms falling at his sides, defeated.
While Jouno… He feels the lack of it.
The lack of Shibusawa’s presence that was always there, lingering around Fyodor. The part of
the dragon that refused to leave, to let go, for so long and—
The part that is now gone.
“It’s done now.” Fyodor says, stepping closer. “You don’t have to fight anymore. You’ve
done enough.”
He comes closer, his tails extending to the wolves sitting on the ground, slow and gentle,
pulling them closer until the kitsune can hold them the way he used to, a long time ago.
Whenever they would have nightmares.
Whenever the would feel lost in life, uncertain, and—
“It’s okay.”
—whenever they would cry.

“It’s going to be okay.”
It’s only now that the last of the walls they have built around themselves crumble down, tears
streaming down their faces as if they were pups again, seeking comfort in an embrace that
feels equally as kind, as it is sorrowful, even if there are no tears in Fyodor’s eyes.
Not anymore.
With Jouno’s grief overshadowing the wolf’s anger, one of Fyodor’s tails extends to
Tachihara, pulling him close to the rest of them.
“I–I—” He swallows dry, cheeks wet and throat tight. “I didn’t mean to—I just—”
“I know.” The fox murmurs, stroking the back of the boy’s head as Tachihara weeps into his
shoulder. “I know.”
“I—he said—I didn’t— I’m sorry—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Michizou–kun.”
Not one of them holds blame for what has happened. It’s Fyodor, who told Dazai where to
find information. It was Fyodor, who agreed to help with Shibusawa’s plan.
It was Fyodor, who went out by himself that day.
And it is Fyodor, who holds the four wolves close, sheltered in the safety of his tails, as they
cry their hearts out, their sobs and screams singing with a melody too painfully similar to
that, which the kitsune would let out into the world once upon a time. It won’t be easy, loss is
never easy, but… they won’t be left alone with it.
Fyodor won’t let it be so.
Even if he can’t offer them the life that they are used to, even if he can’t bring back the water
and the palace that have raised them—
—he can and will be their family, for as long as they need him.
Just like Shibusawa was to him.
“You’re lucky.” Yosano mumbles, sliding the door shut once both of them step outside.
“They’ve only woken up less than an hour ago.”
“We were all lucky.” Once the sight of Ryuu and Gin get obscured by the wooden panels,
Kouyou’s eyes travel to meet Yosano’s. “Well, almost.”
“Is he…?”
“Dead?” Kouyou quirks a brow, then shakes her head slightly. “No. He’s safe. Although…”
“Although?”
The spirit lets out a sigh, a peaceful but sad image flashing before her eyes. “He’s safe from
Death, not from what lurks inside of him.” When Yosano raises her brows in a silent
question, Kouyou offers her a smile. “He’s asleep as far as I know, but it feels deeper than a
regular sleep.”
A small frown settles on Yosano’s face as the two of them walk away from the door and head
outside. “Deeper how?”
“You’d have to ask your mentor, Akiko. It’s about the boy’s soul.”
Something only Mori can see, and only Dazai can feel.
“...of course, it is.” If Yosano’s tone betrays a single, worried note, Kouyou doesn't comment
on it. “It doesn’t make a difference if I know it, or not, then. Only Mori–san can do
something now.”
A hum. “Or not even him.”
Glancing at the spirit, Yosano searches for hints and answers hidden in her expression, and
once she finds them… “...I see.”
“Don’t let that stop you from visiting him, though. I’m sure Chuuya would appreciate it.” A
small chuckle sings from Kouyou’s lips. “Do be careful of the fox, though. He’s easily
agitated these days.”
Yosano’s lips twitch at the corners, a sour feeling washing over her. “I don’t think he’ll like
me coming over. I wasn’t exactly of help with…”
“You were, in your own way.”
“Even if Dazai knows it, I can’t imagine him appreciating it.”
“Maybe not, but…” Kouyou’s hand settles on Yosano’s shoulder, her voice like a soothing
balm over her soul. “If you’re worried, it shouldn’t stop you.”
“...” But even then, she’s the only one that chose not to go with them. “I—”
“Oh, is that Kouyou–san here~?” Ranpo’s head peek out from one of the rooms, green eyes
blinking at them over a cheerful smile. “Does that mean we can go visit Chuuya–kun now~?”
Kouyou answers with a chuckle, while Yosano can only sigh and look to the sky for help,
defeated.
“I guess I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”
“We’ve checked with Yosano–sensei.” One of the tengu siblings speaks up, his sister standing
next to him. “Atsushi is mostly unharmed.”
Nodding absentmindedly, Kunikida looks back to his scroll. “And his… friends?”
The siblings glance at each other, uncertain. Then, it’s Naomi that chooses an answer she
thinks is what the guardian spirit is looking for.
“The wolves were with him and Yosano–sensei said they’ll recover soon.”
Another nod.
Another distant feeling of sour relief.
“Good.”
…another reminder of what could have been, once, before it perished from Kunikida’s grasp.
In the dim light of the room in Mori’s palace, Dazai holds Chuuya’s sleeping body close.
Among the silence surrounding them, he whispers the same few words, never receiving a
reply.
His lips ask Chuuya to wake up.
His heart urges the boy to open his eyes.
His soul hums the melody of many mornings the redhead stirred next to him, of blue eyes
hazed with sleep looking up at the fox and mumbled words between Chuuya’s yawns.
Waiting for that quiet moment to come again, Dazai keeps Chuuya close.
He combs the auburn hair whenever knots form among the boy’s locks, he wipes his body
with wet cloths every day, keeping his human’s body clean for when the redhead will wake
up.
Sometimes, Dazai spends the nights with Chuuya in his arms. Other times, he spends them in
his fox form, curled around the boy’s body and shielding him from the outside world.
Once their injuries heal, Ryuu and Gin come to see them, but they always leave conflicted
once it’s time to go back. Glad, because Chuuya is alive, and defeated because… His body
may be here, but where is his mind?
They ask the questions but no one knows the answers to them.
There’s nothing they can do, other than wait.
Although not often, there are days when Atsushi comes along with Ryuu, even if he mostly
stays quiet around Dazai, only holding Ryuu’s hand and looking at Chuuya, waiting the same
way they all are.
Kouyou visits from time to time.
Yosano and Ranpo, too.
Once, when their own responsibilities allowed them to, Oda and Ango came, but it changed
nothing.
Every day, the same small routine repeats itself.
Every morning, Mori comes in and casts a veil of a spell over Chuuya, keeping his human
body from withering away, from starving to death. Every morning he takes away the small
plate of peaches, or other food, and leaves a new one. Sometimes, it’s empty when Mori takes
it, other times it’s untouched.
Dazai never asks for any of it, he’s only staying here so that the god can help with keeping
Chuuya alive and in case there’s an emergency they’ll need him for, but…
As time flies by, the kitsune stops questioning it, the small gestures that don’t quite make
sense to him. And slowly… he learns to accept it.
The time Mori spends inside that room, sitting with Dazai even after the spell has already
been cast, grows longer each day, their conversations softening from elusive comments into
something else. Something normal. Something that helps the fox feel more at ease, even if
Dazai himself cannot explain why that is the case.
It takes a long time but, eventually – and after making sure the room is protected and sealed
from anyone trying to sneak inside – Dazai steps out of the confines of the four dark walls.
In the beginning, it's never for long.
A bath, instead of using only a wet cloth. A stroll along the long halls that he once lived
among, before coming back to wait at Chuuya’s side.
Then, it gets longer, though still within Mori’s palace grounds.

Teatime with Hirotsu. Indulging Yumeno in their sick games for a bit, purely to have the
spirit stop trying to get inside the room where Chuuys rests. If he feels like it, Dazai passes
time by playing with Mori’s servants on the training grounds—
Well, by training them.
Sort of.
He makes sure not to kill, or severely injure, any of them, but the side of him that was left
unsatisfied after not taking a single life of the people who did this to his human can finally
get its frustration out. He can let his claws cut deep and his fire burn hot, and he can let his
soul scream all of it out until, one day, there’s nothing more to feed the rage.
No violent winds to cause the storms, or rumblings to split the ground under his feet.
Only a calm wait, laced with hope that refuses to let go.
It’s almost the same as when the fox lived here in the past, though not quite. This time, he
doesn’t feel like Fate is forcing him to stay here, like he doesn’t have a choice but to let the
god into his life just to stay alive. He doesn’t hate it here, even if he misses his and Chuuya’s
home.
It’s a strange sensation, to feel this at ease and this… at home in a place that was never it for
Dazai. It’s strange to notice and accept the small gestures he’s being offered, to stop
questioning the motives he can’t see, but…
Even if only a little, it helps.
It helps with the prolonged wait, with feeling helpless. It distracts Dazai from the darkness of
his mind and the hole in his heart.
There are days when it makes Dazai wonder: would it have felt like this before, too, if he had
only let it? Or were those centuries he spent here before destined to feel like being chained to
a life he didn’t want?
Did Mori do all of that back then and Dazai was simply blind?
Or did something change in the god after Dazai left? But what?
New questions are born every day but the kitsune doesn’t search for the answers. He’s
content without knowing, for now.
If the right time and place comes… maybe Dazai will try.
(Try again.)
Mori watches over the fox’s sessions with his servants only in the beginning, his gaze a
reminder that Dazai can’t let it get too much out of hand, but eventually – the god doesn’t
feel it necessary anymore. Because he knows Dazai doesn’t want to come back to Chuuya’s
side while stained with blood, with the reek of suffering and death lingering on him.
Because he can see it, the way Dazai has changed since the time they parted their ways all
those many years ago. How his anger and distaste towards the world gave way to something
calmer, more accepting. How his thirst for leaving a trail of misery was replaced by the hope
of a better future.
Days go by as Mori watches Dazai wait for Chuuya to wake up – slowly brushing his hair in
the mornings, cleaning his body in the afternoons and telling him about the times the fox
spends outside in the evenings.
And while it’s true that the kitsune has made his peace with staying here for as long as
necessary, Dazai never accepts this situation as something final.
This can’t be how it ends.
How Chuuya ends.
He orders the Akutagawa siblings to look after the house and the garden to make sure it’s
perfect for when they both go back home. For when everything is fine again. For when they
can be happy again. Together.
Chuuya’s sleeping face never changes, not a single frown tainting his expression. Not a single
whisper singing from his soul. He looks peaceful like this, relaxed. It brings back memories
of the boy falling asleep while brushing Dazai’s tails late at night, of the lazy mornings the
kitsune would spend at admiring the redhead’s features.
Every morning, the same quiet words slip from his lips.
Every evening, when Dazai’s fox body curls around Chuuya, the kitsune tells himself it’s the
last night that he spends feeling alone with his sorrows and hopes. That once a new day
shines upon them, Chuuya will wake up.
Then, the next evening, he does it again.
And again.
And again—
As Dazai waits for his husband to wake up, four long years of silence pass by…
Chapter End Notes
4 years...
I HAD TO
The Way Back
Chapter Notes
Four years.
For some, such a long time may be enough to forget the sound of one’s voice, to forget the
sight of a beloved smile – but not for Dazai. Even if it’s only his memories that keep those
treasures alive for him during the long, quiet nights, the kitsune remembers. He continues to
long for it, long for the moment he’ll get to bask in the melody of Chuuya’s voice again.
He continues to wait. Patient.
Not alone but… not quite whole.
The first year, it is like walking through mud: slow, tiring steps that lead him nowhere,
misery seeping into his bones with how cold every day feels. It is a time for finding the paths
that aren’t paved with thorns, for conversations that, while unpleasant, need to be had.
The second year, it’s when Dazai’s anger starts to fade after having been let out on Mori’s
subordinates. It’s when his eye finds colour again, however faded or however dim the light in
it be. It’s not peace that the kitsune finds, but… it’s something close to it. Something that
tries to be it.
The third year is when Mori’s palace starts feeling less like a cage, less like a place to be
bound to and more like somewhere Dazai can rest when his eyelids can’t stay open anymore.
Someplace safe, for both him and for Chuuya.
It births the questions that follow into the fourth year, never to be spoken aloud but never
fully let go of, either. While, when he thinks the kitsune can’t see it, the god that looks after
the two of them continues to smile with fondness that feels foreign to Dazai.
The time stretches around him as Dazai counts the days and feels every hour that passes.
Four years of silence, of no answer to any of his pleas and prayers, and yet—
“This used to be my room, you know?” Long strands of red hair slip between his fingers. “A
long time ago.”
—and yet, just like every night, the kitsune whispers the old stories to the sleeping human.
To be heard, even if not remembered.
Even if one day, he’ll have to tell them all over again.
With Chuuya’s back resting on his chest, Dazai leans back on his tails and looks around the
empty space of the room from where he sits. “I don’t think anyone has lived here since then.”
It’s been kept clean, or maybe Mori had someone clean it before moving them here when
they were unconscious – it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. There’s no sign of
anyone’s presence here, no scents lingering behind, only the small scratches the fox
remembers leaving on the naked surfaces on his bad days. It wouldn’t be hard to get rid of
them, but no one has ever bothered.
With no one to complain about them, there was no reason to, and if there ever was a reason
not erase Dazai’s imprints on the palace… that’s not for the kitsune to know, or understand.
“It’s too close to Mori–san’s quarters.” Resting his chin on the top of Chuuya’s head, Dazai
hums to himself as he lets his mind wander. “I always thought it was to keep an eye on me
that he put me here, but I’m not so sure anymore.”
Chuuya would have probably huffed at him and said that it’s what he deserved for being his
annoying self, especially back then, when Dazai was still young and seeking danger
everywhere he went. But…
If so, if that was truly Mori’s intention, it never served its purpose.
It’s close enough for the god to be able to always keep an eye on him, but Dazai would
always do whatever he pleased when he lived here.
“I have never asked about it, either.” He pretended not to notice, not to care about any of it.
“I doubt Mori–san would have answered honestly, anyway. If at all.”
There has always been so much Dazai felt the god was keeping to himself. Too many
questions left unanswered, too many details omitted without a clear reason. A door that Mori
would step through whenever he wished to, but never allow Dazai to see what’s on the other
side—
A sigh cuts through the silent air. “At least not back then.”
Two of Dazai’s tails move to cover Chuuya’s legs, making sure the boy is warm, even if he
can’t feel the cold like this, in his current state. Or can he?
What does Chuuya feel, when he’s like this?
Can he feel how much time has passed? How much he’s missed?
Or is it only the emptiness? Is he not aware of himself anymore?
“Right now… I don’t know.”
Chuuya would have told him that he’s being stubborn and unreasonable, that if he’s curious,
he should just ask. And then, he’d call Mori the same – stubborn and too closed–off – despite
the man being a god. He would have scolded them both for acting this way and then he
would have made them sit down and talk. Dazai can almost see it before his eyes when he
blinks but—
But the redhead doesn’t say any of that.

He can’t, not from the deep slumber that imprisons his mind and soul.
Dazai hasn’t heard his voice in so long—
The kitsune’s arms tighten slightly around Chuuya’s body as he buries his nose in the red
locks, eyes shut. “Chuuya should wake up.”
He should roll his clear blue eyes and let Dazai follow these skies to the ends of the worlds,
just like he once promised.
“Didn’t you want to know more about my past? About Mori–san? I’ll tell you. I promise.”
But, just like for the last four years, no answer other than silence comes.
“...”
Just like for the last four years, it’s only Dazai’s yearning that connects them through the
weakened bond. Their voices can’t reach each other, they can’t awaken Chuuya or cut
through the stillness of his soul.
“I’ve lived a long life, little human.” The kitsune whispers, his lips brushing Chuuya’s scalp.
“Much longer than you can imagine.”
Alone and with others.
In the dark and in the shadows of the day.
“But it has never felt long to me.” Not like this. “But now… every day feels longer than a
century.”
Every day under the warm Sun feels colder than the freezing nights in the dark, northern
forests, or the depths of the deepest seas. Colder and more lonely, after a lifetime of growing
fond of being by himself.
It isn't meant to feel like this, not to a demon. Four human years should seem like a stroll
taken on a lazy day—
Instead, they feel like eternity.
“It wasn’t enough.” Dazai murmurs. “I have only just obtained this happiness…” Another
one of his tails settles on Chuuya’s body, desperate to hold on. “...I can’t lose it. Not so
quickly.”
Not ever, if only there was a way to grant him that wish.
“I miss you, Chuuya.”
Dazai isn’t sure if his words actually make it out of his lips, or if the pained longing stays
forever only in his mind – but it’s the truth.
Every breath he takes is for Chuuya, to know he’s here.
Every day he spends trying to live this life, every second he spends waiting – it’s all for
Chuuya.
“So wake up, okay?” He plants a kiss on the top of his head. “You have to.”
Because without him, Dazai feels lost.
Because only believing and never seeing isn’t always enough. It isn’t always easy.
Four years, it’s… a long time. Too many days spent without his love, too many weeks spent
without the only smile he longs for. Dazai never knew how painfully slow time can pass but
now that he does – it’s too much.
Four years is too long.
“Please.”
It’s dark here.
Wherever ‘here’ even is.
The only light that breaks through the endless shadows are the golden strings wrapped around
his body. One around his neck, one on each wrist and ankle.
They’re so light Chuuya can’t even feel them – the only weight that tickles his skin is the
blue thread around his right arm. It’s pleasantly cool, falling onto the ground and stretching
somewhere beyond Chuuya’s sight. Where it leads, he doesn’t know.
But golden strings… that the redhead can see. They trail down his body to the ground he sits
on and… up to another boy’s neck, wrists and ankles.
Up to another him.
The same hair and eyes, the same face Chuuya somehow recognises as his own, but with skin
scattered with red marks flowing underneath it, dressed in a darker version of his own robes.
They sit in front of each other. Neither moving. Neither saying anything.
Neither feeling anything.
Not Chuuya and not him.
There’s no fear, no anger, no thrill, no desire.

Only silence.
…and a light tug at his right wrist.
How long they’ve been sitting here, Chuuya doesn’t know. He can’t find it in himself to care
about it, either. Why would he?
…but the blue thread tugs again, barely noticeable.
He has lost count of how many times his right wrist tickled. How many times Chuuya
thought he heard someone’s voice among the nothingness.
…and again.
It continues, on and on, and Chuuya doesn’t know what to think of it. He doesn’t even what
what it is that tries to pull him away from here, but—
It doesn’t matter, not really.
It’s not strong enough.
Although…
Looking at his other self’s hand, Chuuya speaks for what feels like the first time in forever,
even if remembers using his voice… sometime before. “Why do you not have it?”
The boy follows Chuuya’s gaze, then looks back up.
“Because I wasn’t there when you got it.”
A hum, then the redhead furrows his brows. “Do you not want it?” Not that Chuuya
remembers what it even is. He’s only asking because something in him feels like it’s
important.
Like it used to be important.
His other self tilts his head to the side, his voice colourless as red markings lazily flow across
his face.
“Do you want me to want it?”
Does he?
…another tug.
“I think so?”
The other Chuuya’s brows climb higher, but his posture and voice don’t change.
“Why?”
“Because you’re me and I have it.”
…another whisper he can’t hear.
“If you believed that, we wouldn’t be here.”
Chuuya frowns, failing to remember what confusion truly feels like. “What do you mean?”
“If you had believed we’re the same, you wouldn’t have stayed behind to keep an eye on
me.”
…a tug.
“I’m not keeping an eye on you.” He doesn’t remember frustration, either. “I’m keeping you
company.”
“Because you’re me?”
“Because I don’t want to fight you once I leave here.”
The words leave Chuuya’s lips before he can understand them himself, and his other self
narrows his eyes at that, crystal blue fading into white for a brief moment.
“You know that you want to leave?”
“No.” He doesn’t wish for anything, nor does he remember what ‘want’ feels like.
…an echo of a distant plea.
“But I have to.”
“Why?”
Chuuya brings his right hand up in answer, his body moving on its own despite the redhead’s
inability to explain why it does so. “Because someone needs me to.” He… thinks that’s
correct, at least. Somehow.
The other boy looks him over, not a single emotion to be felt from his expressionless face.
“I’m not stopping you.”
That’s true. Chuuya can’t feel anything actually holding him here, but… “But you won’t
come with me?”
His reflection shakes his head.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you need to make a choice, and it needs to be made with your soul.”
Chuuya’s brows furrow again, a tingle of something he doesn’t understand teasing him on the
inside. “I am making a choice.”
“You can’t make a choice while asleep.”
…a tug.
While he’s… asleep? “...” What does that mean? And more importantly… “Why aren’t you
trying to fight it?”
“Do you want me to?”
“No.” He’s done fighting. “But you…” He tried before, didn’t he?
“I’m you. We feel the same.”
Which, among the shadows of this place that Chuuya doesn’t recognise, means that they are
both feeling nothing. Or at least they had, until the first words were spoken.
“...” Chuuya looks at the golden threads that connect them. If they’re the one and the same, if
what they feel are mirrored emotions, then why… “But only I can leave.”
A nod.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“We’re both here so why—”
“Only you know the way out.”
He doesn’t, not by himself. But if he follows the blue thread…
It’s strange how Chuuya’s mind keeps coming back to that one thread. He has let it be for so
long, never thinking much of where it leads and only staring into a reflection of himself – or
maybe of a part of himself – that its existence shouldn’t matter to him. It’s only one of the six
threads that wrap around his body, and the boy that Chuuya shares this darkness with should
be more important to him than faint tugs from a distance that exists beyond anything the
redhead knows.
Yet, it’s the one thought that keeps coming back. Now that the first questions were spoken,
now that Chuuya has acknowledged the pull from the other end of it—
He can’t stop feeling it.
He can’t stop searching for an answer, even if he feels no rush, no desire to run towards
whatever – whoever – is waiting for him.
“...and if I leave?”
A shrug.
“You’ll be free, and I’ll be here.”
“...”
“But you can come back, even if you go now.”
“...I can?”
A nod.
“The golden ones, they can’t ever be broken.”
An unreadable smile, a single sparkle that mirrors what is slowly awakening inside of
Chuuya’s chest. Or trying to.
“But you can choose to keep me here, too.”
…a tug.
“I won’t.”
…a tug.
“You can’t know that.”
…a tug.
“Neither can you.”
…a tug.
“...”
…a whisper.
Standing up, Chuuya offers his other self a smile, something inside his chest stirring for the
first time as the tickling feeling around his wrists grows stronger.
“I’ll see you soon.”
With those words echoing among the shadows, Chuuya turns away from his own self, feeling
the golden strings around his body tickle his skin as they stretch from him to the boy that is
left behind and…
He follows where the blue thread takes him.

(“Wake up, Chuuya.”)
It’s slow when darkness gives way to colours that Chuuya more feels than sees.
Warmth. Softness. They linger on his body.
Sorrow. Hope. Surprise. They tug at his heart.
But most of all…
“...Chuuya?”
The voice that calls out to him is quiet and, yet, loud as it reaches the redhead. It’s almost shy
in its hope, disbelieving. There’s a ghost of fear in it. A shadow of what sounds like a broken
plea.
When Chuuya’s eyes tiredly open, he doesn't recognise the man staring at him right away.
Not the dark eye, not the bandages, not the mop of hair and white ears crowning it.
Not the relief in all of it.
Nor the love.
But then he blinks and—
The soft feeling is gone from under his back, replaced by the arms squeezing him tight and
the soft fur of long tails that brush his skin as he’s pulled up from the ground. The man’s
breath fans over his skin, his fingers sliding into Chuuya’s hair, and it’s familiar.
Like a dream that is still right there if only the redhead chooses to grasp it before it slips from
his mind. It’s…
(His. His fox. His friend.
His partner.
His lover.
His—)
“...Dazai?” It comes out weak, rasped.
Chuuya’s throat feels dry, his body sore and struggling to keep up with all the sensations
overflowing it when Dazai hugs him tighter. His muscles are stiff and it’s only the fox’s arms
that keep him up, holding onto him almost desperately.
Every brush of Dazai’s hands or tails feels like it’s seeking Chuuya out. Like it’s searching
for him. And it’s only now, surrounded by a quiet feeling of longing, that Chuuya remembers.
Shibusawa.
The fight.
The blood and pain and the lurking death that watched all of it unfold.
He remembers sensing Dazai’s pain, fearing that he’d lose him. He remembers how helpless
he felt, how guilty for causing his loved one so much sorrow and suffering and—
Among all of this, Chuuya thinks he remembers something else.
A spark of anger.
Laughter of madness.
The raging storm of blood and screams and—
“Dazai?” The boy repeats, confused and somewhat frightened. “Are… are you okay?”
His hands are stiff when Chuuya tries to grab onto Dazai’s clothes. He doesn’t fully
understand what is going on, but… a part of him needs to feel the kitsune close. Closer.
He needs to feel him. Hear him.
“Dazai?”
But the fox doesn’t answer, only silently breathing Chuuya in, never letting the boy go. It
doesn’t seem like he’s hurt, not physically, but there’s an edge to the slight tremble of Dazai’s
arms and it worries a part of Chuuya that the redhead feels starting to burn again.
“...Osamu?”
“You’re safe.” Dazai whispers, burying his face into Chuuya’s hair. “You’re safe.”
It feels like he isn’t talking to the boy anymore, but to himself.
LIke it’s not Chuuya that he reassures of it, but his own heart.
(Just like a single tear falling onto the flaming hair isn’t for Chuuya to see, or feel, but for
Dazai to let go of the fears he’s been harbouring for four years.
The only tear he has ever shed.
For the only love he has ever had.)
There’s something in Dazai’s faintly broken voice that makes Chuuya’s heart clench at the
sound of it. Suddenly, his worry and all the bloodied images fade away, leaving only…Relief,
more pure than the boy remembers ever feeling.
Happiness, tainted with the sorrow of many lonely nights.
“I’m here.” Chuuya whispers back, his fingers tightening in Dazai’s clothes as he presses his
face to the kitsune's chest. “We both are.”
“I missed you.”
So did Chuuya, somewhere deep. Even if he doesn’t understand the weight of these words
just yet.
“So much.”
Even if he doesn’t actually know how long Dazai has waited for him, or how much longer he
was willing to wait for the day Chuuya wakes up.
But he doesn’t have to anymore. Because Chuuya’s heart beats in his arms with the rhythm
the kitsune has kept in his mind all this time. Because Chuuya’s soul sings with the melody
Dazai has been dreaming about. Because Chuuya is back and--
Dazai is never letting him go again.
(And this time, it’s a promise he will keep.)
It’s Dazai, who occupies Chuuya’s mind at the moment, making everything else irrelevant to
the point where the boy doesn’t seem to notice anything else. Not the way his body is thinner
than it used to be. Not how long his hair has gotten, much longer than it ever was.
Not the way his mind and heart are quiet. No ringing in his ears, no dark whispers seeping
into his consciousness.
It’s only Dazai’s tails around his body and the hands cupping his face when the kitsune leans
back only far enough to look at Chuuya. Dazai’s eye gazes into the blue orbs, into the skies
that have been clouded for far too long.
“You’re back.”
And Chuuya doesn’t need to understand these words just yet. His hands leave the kitsune’s
clothes and slide to his face, cupping it the same way Dazai’s hands are holding him close.
“I am.” The boy whispers, feeling his voice beginning to shake with all the unknown
emotions bursting inside his chest. “I’m back.”
“You’re safe.”
Chuuya’s smile trembles, his eyes watering. “Yeah.”
“I love you.”
Their lips brush as Dazai speaks, breaths mixing into one. But it’s Chuuya, who tilts his head
and seals the kiss, driven by the emotions that seem to burst inside of him, overwhelmed by
every smallest sensation and memory flowing into his heart—
And it’s everything.
A touch that soothes their souls, delicate as petals brushing over skin.
A touch that was lost among the darkness, yet never forgotten.
A touch that feels like home.
Like being awake after a life–long slumber, warm after an eternal winter.
(If, on the other side of the closed doors, Mori decides to leave for now and not intrude,
choosing to check up on the human a bit later… That’s only for him to know.)
Chuuya doesn’t know how long they’ve sat like that, in each other arms and without uttering
a word, only sharing delicate kisses that taste of pain and longing and love. But the longer
they stay like this, the more he notices.
Not only the peace and silence inside of him, but also everything else.
How this isn’t their home. How something about Dazai feels odd in the most heartbreaking
way possible.
“What…” And just how dry his throat is. “What happened?”
Sensing the faint hint of ache in Chuuya’s words, one of Dazai’s tails extends further behind
him, pushing a tray with a vase of water and a cup closer.
(For the last four years, it was only Dazai who would use it. But he doesn’t need to anymore.)
“Here.”
Offering Chuuya the cup, the kitsune helps him sit up more properly on the futon, while
never letting go of him. His tails lie around the boy, his hand holding Chuuya’s, and his eye
never looks away, taking every smallest detail in and savouring it like a starving man.
“We came for you.” The fox starts, when Chuuya puts the cup down and looks back at him,
waiting. “There was a battle.”
That the boy remembers, though not as vividly.
He remembers the blood and the earth trembling. The screams and pain and… and falling.
Not physically, he thinks, but there was a fight and he couldn’t breathe and then he… (they
both)... fell into the hollow darkness.
“The dragon is dead. He won’t hurt you anymore.”
Blinking the lost images away, the redhead looks up at Dazai. “You killed him?”
Chuuya… doesn’t quite mind that thought.

There was, and still is, a part of him that pitied Shibusawa for what he has become, and
maybe a part of him also understood why he did what he did – he understands that the dragon
did it for someone he cared about, even if that’s all the details Chuuya knows.
But that understanding doesn’t replace his hatred, or his sorrows.
It lives alongside them. Present, but not as strong.
He wouldn’t say he’s glad about the dragon’s passing, but he can’t deny that, at the time he
was chained to the stone bed, he was craving it.
And now, he’s relieved about it. For many reasons.
“No.” Dazai’s hand squeezes Chuuya’s tighter. “You did.”
The redhead blinks at him, confused. Then, his brows furrow. “...what?”
That part, he doesn’t recall. He was desperate and angry and… everything after a certain
point is blurred in his memory. Images passing behind a thick fog that doesn’t fade no matter
how hard Chuuya tries to see past it.
Dazai, Kouyou. Was Hirotsu there, too?
And… and someone else.
But who—
“You let Arahabaki’s powers out again.” The kitsune says slowly. “All of it. You fought
Shibusawa and… you won.” His free hand brushes Chuuya’s cheek as Dazai offers him a
reassuring smile. “You save me. Saved us. We wouldn’t have made it out alive if it wasn’t for
you.”
Somehow, Chuuya can’t bring himself to deny that.
Somewhere deep… he knows it’s the truth. He knows that sensing Dazai’s pain and looming
death and wishing to help him was the last coherent thought he had before everything turned
black. Before he felt a searing flame flow into his veins and madness blinding his vision.
He remembers… thrill.
“But it…” He takes a deep breath, trying to put the pieces together. “It didn’t kill me?”
“It almost did.” A shadow crosses Dazai’s face, but it’s gone the next second. “But I sealed it
again before it happened, and then brought you here.”
Chuuya doesn’t need to ask his question, the look in his eyes is enough for the kitsune.
“Mori–san’s palace. He cut Arahabaki’s essence off before it was… too late.”
At that, blue eyes widen.

First, it’s panic and surprise, because Chuuya still remembers how the god said it could kill
him, that it most likely would. They did it without his knowledge, before he could even say
his goodbye to anyone. But then…
Then, all of it fades when Chuuya realises that despite all the concerns and dangers – it
worked.
He’s alive.
He feels breathless, his thoughts are a mess and his lips shyly stretch into a disbelieving
smile. He doesn’t have to fight it anymore, doesn’t have to live every day as if it could be his
last—
“And…”
And?
What else would there be to say?
Dazai’s ears lower over his head, the light in his eye dimming. “We’ve been waiting for you
to wake up ever since.”
Something about these words, about the sadness hiding behind them, makes Chuuya uneasy.
Makes him afraid and—
“Ever since…?”
A pause. Then… “It’s been four years, Chuuya.”
—his heart sinks.
“F…four…”
It makes sense, with how his hair reaches all the way to his hips now.
“But…”
It makes sense, with how every sensation that used to be the most natural feeling possible,
now feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time.
“And… and you…”
It makes sense, with how relieved Dazai was when Chuuya opened his eyes.
How desperate.
“I’ve been here all this time, little human.” Dazai’s hand lingers on Chuuya’s cheek, his smile
frail as if a single touch could shatter it again. “I’ve been waiting for you every day.”
//I missed you.//
Every day for… four years?
//So much.//
A tear trails down Chuuya’s cheek before the boy can stop it, guilt and disbelief swirling
around in his mind. “I… I’m sorry.”
How could he have let it happen?
How could he have not felt it? Dazai’s sorrow?
Shaking his head, Dazai smiles at him. “Don’t be.” He leans forward, resting his forehead on
Chuuya’s. “I would have waited forever if necessary.”
And Chuuya knows it’s the truth. Because Dazai is a kitsune, a demon, for him ‘forever’ isn’t
unattainable the same way it is for humans. He would stay by Chuuya’s side, never hearing
the boy’s voice or seeing his smile, for an eternity if he only could.
“I...”
But he doesn’t have to wait anymore—
He doesn’t have to be alone anymore.
“I love you.” Chuuya knows he has said it before, but his heart isn’t enough to contain the
confession. “I love you so much.” He says it with all of his heart—
(—but a part of his soul doesn’t say it with him. A part that can’t dictate Chuuya’s emotions
from where it sits silently, alone. But a part that is always there, and should it ever be allowed
to become more than a voice locked away deep where Chuuya can’t remember it…
Then, what comes easily to him now may become a confusing struggle.
A fear once spoken aloud may become true, along with the promise that has sealed it away.)
He squeezes his eyes to stop any more tears from falling and the kitsune kisses his forehead.
“I love Chuuya, too.”
Even if four years may have been nothing for someone who has lived for centuries, Chuuya
knows how much pain Dazai was in. He felt it in their first embrace after so long, in the first
kiss. He feels it now, with every breath the kitsune takes. And—
“What…”
The wave of realisation crashes over him with new strength. Blue eyes shooting open as the
redhead looks up at Dazai, newly born panic fretting in his clear orbs.
“What about uncle Paul? Uncle Adam?”
Adam is a human, and even if Verlaine isn’t – four years is still a long time. They didn’t even
know about any of this, because Chuuya never told them. Never said goodbye, never—
“I told them the truth.” Dazai admits, one of his tails rubbing soothing circles into Chuuya’s
back. “They’ve been visiting here regularly.”
“You… you told them about… that?”
Dazai nods. “I had to but…” The corners of his lips twitching weakly. “...it wasn’t easy.”
Oh, Chuuya can imagine. “They didn’t… they didn’t blame you, right? Uncle Paul didn’t—”
Shaking his head, the fox offers him a reassuring smile. “They didn’t blame me, at least they
didn't say anything like that out loud.”
Letting out a relieved sigh, some of the tension leaves Chuuya’s body. The last thing he
would want to wake up to is his uncles trying to fulfil some of the promises they made in the
past, about what they would do to Dazai if the fox ever made him cry. Or to them trying to
fight the kitsune and getting injured in the process.
“And it was your uncle Adam who was more… verbal about his feelings. Not Verlaine.”
“...really?”
Dazai nods again. “He was the one to calm Adam down, then and a few times after that.”
That’s… unexpected.
All his life, Chuuya viewed Adam as the calmer one, the one that is always collected and
rational, even if a little too fond of his endless jokes. It has always been Verlaine who would
let his protective side take reign of his actions and words. He has always been the more
emotional one.
But… maybe extreme situations truly bring out people’s true nature.
Maybe it was the years of experience Verlaine has over Adam, the decades of loss that he
carries on his back, that showed itself when Dazai told them the truth.
Maybe Chuuya will ask about it, one day.
Leaning back into the tails supporting him up, Chuuya lets himself smile while thinking
about it. “Did I miss anything else interesting?”
“A few birthdays, a few anniversaries.” It’s painted with underlying sadness, but Dazai’s
voice flows lightly – hopeful for the future, even if past regrets haven’t left it yet. “Watching
me play with Mori–san’s subordinates.”
Chuuya arches a brow. “Play?”
“Train.” The fox shrugs. “It helped to keep me occupied and not do something reckless.”
“I see your definition of ‘play’ now matches the one of that vengeful spirit I remember you
mentioning.”
For the first time since waking up, the redhead hears Dazai chuckle softly.
For the first time, he hears how not only light but also free the fox sounds.
“I didn’t kill anyone.” The kitsune says. “Yumeno would.”
“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t want to do it, huh?”
A sigh, shamelessly disappointed. “Mori–san wouldn’t have let me.”
It’s yet another thing that makes Chuuya realise how much time has passed and how things
have changed while he was asleep: the way Dazai speaks of Mori.
It’s different now. It lacks the sharp edge of suppressed anger, of distrust and displeasure at
the mention of the god’s name.
It’s softer now, the way Dazai says that name. Somewhat hesitant still, somewhat distant and
confused, as if he doesn’t know what to feel himself – but it’s not hostile. Not quite fond
either, that’s taking it too far, but…
“Are you two getting along now?”
Or rather, has Dazai stopped fighting whatever shadows he couldn’t let go of?
The kitsune falls silent at the question, a veil of uncertainty falling over his expression. He
inhales deeply, his fingers playing with the ends of Chuuya’s hair as it rests on his thigh. “It’s
complicated.”
Ah, that again.
Some things won’t change no matter how many years pass.
“It sounds better than it did, to me.” The redhead teases, half–curious and half–relieved. “He
even let us stay here all this time.”
“I’ve lived here before, it’s not that special.” Then, a single sparkle shines up in the dark eye.
Dazai’s smirk softens, his ears flicker shyly when… “This used to be my room, you know?”
And for the first time in four years—

Chuuya’s eyes widen as the boy looks around the room. “Really?”
—Dazai gets an answer to his whispers. For the first time, his story is heard and remembered.
The kitsune nods, and if the redhead finds it weird for him to smile this genuinely because of
a simple question, he doesn’t mention it. “A long time ago, yes.”
“It looks… empty.” Which, somehow, fits the fox just right.
“I don’t think anyone has lived here since then. It’s too close to Mori–san’s quarters.”
The warm feeling of seeing a part of Dazai’s past blooms in Chuuya’s chest. “So he kept it
for you all this time?”
And that’s… not a possibility Dazai could have come up with on his own. It’s something only
Chuuya could tell him, now that he's awake. Because the redhead never ceases to surprise the
kitsune, his mind never quite follows the same patterns as Dazai’s.
Did he?
…would he?
A sigh. “Maybe he doesn’t need to keep an eye on anyone as closely as he had to with me.”
The redhead hums, nodding to himself. “I get a feeling you deserved it.”
A heartbeat of silence.
Then, another chuckle rings from Dazai’s chest. “Yeah, I probably did.”
“But…” Looking down at the redhead, Dazai quirks a brow, still playing with Chuuya’s hair
absentmindedly as the boy considers his words. “I don’t know. It seems like more than that.”
“How so?”
“It’s empty, but clean. You didn’t care to keep every room in our house that you didn’t use
clean, so why would he?” Then, the boy shrugs and leans back. “But I don’t know.”
Every word that leaves Chuuya’s lips is light, without a single worry about what deeper
meaning it may hold. Without worrying how it makes Dazai feel, how it makes him question
so many things again, moments he was sure would remain meaningless forever.
“I never asked about it.”
A snort. “Yeah, I bet you didn’t. You’re too stubborn for that.”
“I doubt Mori–san would answer, though.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try if you’re curious, you know?” But then, unaware of Dazai’s internal
doubts, Chuuya lets out a sigh, dismissing the topic he must have thought was nothing more
than a joke of the past. “Isn’t he coming here? To, I don’t know, check whether I’m dying or
not?”
Dazai’s ears straighten immediately, a shadow passing though his expression. “You aren’t
dying, Chuuya.”
A hint of guilt picks at the boy’s heart when he sees Dazai’s reaction, his determined eye that
holds four years of sadness within it.
To Chuuya, it was only a minute, a single night of nothingness – was there nothing? Or is he
forgetting something important again? – but to Dazai, four years have passed. To Chuuya, it
was merely a few days ago that everyone would be reminding him of his situation. That he
himself wouldn’t forget the blade constantly pointing at his throat.
He didn’t have to go through the maddening wait to see if whatever Mori did worked or not.
He didn’t have the months upon months of waiting, of forcing himself to believe it’s finally
going to be fine.
To Chuuya, it’s all new.
This feeling of being alive, this feeling of getting to see tomorrow.
He didn’t… he doesn’t mean to take that flame of hope away from Dazai, to worry him
unnecessarily when they’ve just got themselves back but, to Chuuya…
It hasn’t even been a few days since Dazai would be the one to remind him of how he’s
dying.
“Sorry…” The redhead whispers, squeezing Dazai’s hand in a silent gesture that melts away
the fox’s tension. “But I meant, shouldn’t he see me just to… make sure?”
Planting another kiss on Chuuya’s forehead, Dazai pulls the boy closer with his tails. “He
will.” He murmurs. “And then we’ll tell the others, too.”
Uncle Paul. Uncle Adam.
Ryuu. Gin.
Kouyou.
Everyone must have been worried all this time, they must all be waiting for what Dazai can
already have, here. But it’s better to wait until they’re sure, even if it’s selfish. Besides…
What is another hour after already having lost four years, anyway?
Chapter End Notes

THEY'RE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK
(I am forever disappointed there is no smut in ch69, I'm sorry, I miscalculated with all
the added scenes as compared to the twt thread)
If you see any angsty foreshadowing, don't worry too much, we're off to healing arc and
happy stuff now (with sprinkles of bittersweetness here and there) :) kind of
Home, Sweet Home
Chapter Notes
“As I warned you before, letting the dead god’s power out has allowed it to seep into your
soul even more than before. With the way your soul is now, your emotions, especially the
negative ones, may feel more vivid than what you’re used to, but…”
Offering Chuuya a smile, Mori straightens his back, his hands coming to rest on his legs.
“...other than that, there is no danger to your life anymore, Nakahara–kun.”
It’s after hearing those words coming from Mori that a half–relieved and half–disbelieving
gasp escapes Chuuya before the boy can hold it back. His lips are parted and slightly curled
at the corners as the redhead tries to calm his heart with deep breaths, his fingers trembling.
Dazai told him the same thing, Chuuya knows.
Even if the Dazai’s words invited themselves into Chuuya’s heart and mind, seeds of blind
hope taking root in the deepest corners of his being, the redhead couldn’t fully believe it. He
refused to believe yet another illusion, no matter how sweetly offered and no matter how
much he has craved for it to be true.
Mori, however, is a god – a god of medicine – he can see more than the kitsune ever could
and he doesn’t have the same love– and affection–fueled hope that clouds one’s judgement as
Dazai does. Mori has no obligation to make this easier for Chuuya, should the truth be that of
what they’ve all feared all along, and yet—
Yet, the god himself says it’s fine.
That the nightmare is over.
Somewhere inside, where Chuuya’s horrors have been twisting into a hundred knots, the last
strings of doubt finally snap and let the suffocating fears fade from his soul.
He’s safe. Mori said so.
He won’t die.
After all this time and after all he and everyone around him have gone through, they made it
here. Together.
Alive.
The weight has been lifted from Chuuya’s heart, and he knows Dazai feels the same. He can
feel how the kitsune’s body relaxes after Mori’s words, how the same held back fears leave
him for the last time, even if his reaction is nowhere near as obvious as Chuuya’s. He must
have heard it a dozen times already, but it’s only with the redhead at his side and awake that
the realisation fully settles in.
It’s done.
He has waited for this for over four years and now it’s over.
Dazai’s tails stir, coming closer to brush the boy’s body and keep his long hair back as
Chuuya readjusts his kimono over his chest, blue eyes looking back from Mori to Dazai and
back.
“I—are you sure?” Despite the question, a smile lights up his face.
“Very much so.”
“So this means—I won’t—we can—”
Dazai’s hand settles on Chuuya’s shoulder, and Mori lets out a small chuckle that feels more
reassuring rather than anything else. “It means you don’t have to worry and that you can go
home as soon as you feel up to it. Yes.”
They can go home.
Their home.
They can meet with everyone and Chuuya can apologise—
“And—my emotions? Is it going to be a problem? Will I try to…” …hurt them? Again?
Understanding the question without having to hear it, Mori shakes his head. “The leftover
essence will only make it easier for you to feel annoyed, maybe angry when the situation
calls for it, but it’s not strong enough to push you into doing something you wouldn’t choose
for yourself.”
Good. Good.
Chuuya can work with that, feeling annoyed is nothing he hasn’t dealt with before and, right
now, there is only joy bubbling up in his chest, not a single spark of anger left behind.
“But I’m sure Dazai–kun will be able to handle it when, or if, it happens.”
Chuuya huffs out a small laugh, mumbling under his breath. “He could just not annoy me
instead.”
“Ah, but I would never, of course.” Though the red glint in Dazai’s eyes says otherwise.
“Right.” Suppressing another chuckle, the god looks between the two of them. “Like I said, if
it comes, the one to blame will be held responsible.”
Now that Chuuya doesn’t have to fear actually hurting his husband, the thought of causing
him a bit of trouble doesn’t sound too bad. It’s too soon for that, his heart is bursting with so
much happiness it can barely contain it, but…
One day, maybe.
Maybe when Dazai makes one joke too many in the future.
(Or maybe when Chuuya’s heart will need guidance again, to find the path that will have
blurred itself from his sight.)
“Do I still need this, then?” The boy’s fingers brush the dark material around his throat, the
same one he’s been wearing for… well, apparently, for four years that he’s spent asleep.
It’s not that the redhead minds it, it doesn’t itch anymore and he’d rather be safe than sorry in
case something unexpected happens again. A part of him has grown used to it but, most of
the time, he doesn’t even remember it’s there, not until he sees his reflection, or brushes his
fingers over it.
At his side, Dazai’s tails stir again, happy or relieved or curious – Chuuya can’t tell. But the
fox stays quiet, waiting for Mori to answer.
“That’s only a precaution right now.” The god says. “Whether you choose to remove it, or
not, is completely up to you. ”
Well, it doesn’t bother him, so…
“You must be hungry.” The god says all of sudden, and it’s that reminder – however
unexpected and, for a second, confusing – that makes the redhead actually feel like his
stomach is trying to itself from inside out.
It’s not painful and, thank the gods, his stomach doesn’t make any weird sounds while Mori
is still here, but his hunger is growing stronger now that Chuuya is aware of it.
“...yeah.” Scratching the back of his neck, the boy looks to the side. “Maybe a little bit.”
“Dazai–kun.” Glancing at the kitsune, Mori keeps his smile kind, effortless. “Would you go
and tell my subordinates what to prepare for him? It’s been a while since the last time they
prepared a human meal.”
Dazai visibly hesitates, his body stiff at the mention of leaving Chuuya’s side. “Can’t you ask
Hirotsu–san to let them know?”
“My guardian spirit is quite busy at the moment, I’m afraid.” Without so much as a hint of
hidden intent, Mori softens his expression into a more soothing one, his voice warm. “I’ll
finish checking some last bits before you come back so that he’ll be all yours after. It won’t
take long.”
Still, the kitsune doesn’t move, torn between conflicted feelings.
Between trust and concern and longing to stay.
Until the redhead’s hand squeezes his arm, drawing Dazai’s attention to him. “I’ll be fine.”
Chuuya reassures him. “I’ll wait here.”
“I trust Mori–sama.” Then… “No falling asleep again before you come back, I promise.”
Although lighthearted, the joke makes Dazai’s ears lower over his hair at the sole implication,
but he doesn’t fight Chuuya’s words. “...I’ll be quick.”
When the kitsune disappears behind the closing door, Chuuya looks up at Mori again, unsure
of what he’s supposed to do. “So… what else do you need to do?”
As a response, the god offers him an apologetic smile. “Nothing.”
…huh?
“I’ve checked everything already. I apologise for having misled the two of you.” Mori says.
“But there’s something I thought I should tell you. Alone.”
It doesn’t sound too concerning, Mori’s tone doesn’t betray anything bad hiding behind it, but
it still makes the boy frown. He’s been in similar types of situations one too many times to
feel at ease whenever he hears ‘something you should know’ being spoken to him, especially
when it’s like this.
Face to face with a god.
Right after escaping death and the slumber too deep to wake up from on his own.
“But I trust Dazai—”
The god raises his palm, gently cutting Chuuya’s words off. “I’m sure you do. It’s not about
trust.”
“Then why…?”
“Because I don’t want him to influence your decision, Nakahara–kun. It wouldn’t be fair to
you.”
Slowly, Chuuya finds himself growing suspicious of what lies behind Mori’s intentions,
but… “...just Chuuya is fine.”
Mori’s smiles widen slightly. “Chuuya–kun.” Then… “It’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise.”
Well, if that’s true, the god isn’t making it any easier for him to relax. But just as the redhead
has said before – he trusts Mori, the god has proven to be worthy of it. Or at least that’s the
feeling Chuuya gets from both their brief conversation and the way Dazai has been talking
about him before.
There’s a lot the god keeps only to himself, such as is the case for everyone else, but he is the
one who made all of this possible, so… Chuuya trusts him.
He stays quiet, letting Mori speak.
“As I mentioned previously, the essence entered your soul during the fight with the dragon.
The amount of it that you have in yourself now borders on the limit of how much your soul
can take without breaking.”
A cold shiver runs down Chuuya’s spine, and Mori must have sensed it, because he’s quick to
calm the boy’s nerves.
“Everything I said before is true, it’s not dangerous anymore, do not worry. In actuality…”
The god only hesitates for a second, as if to weigh his words carefully. “...it’s quite the
opposite.”
Chuuya’s brows knit together, confused. “The opposite?”
“It has forced itself into your soul but it can’t do much for as long as you don’t accept it as a
part of yourself. And you don’t have to accept it, keeping it like that, hidden away, won’t
affect you in any way.”
//Because you need to make a choice, and it needs to be made with your soul.//
“But if you were to do that, to claim it as a part of yourself…”
//You can’t make a choice while asleep.//
“...you could make its powers your own.”
A weird feeling washes over Chuuya, memories that remain asleep inside his mind stirring,
but not quite enough to make him remember their tales. A mirage of red patterns and a figure
so familiar, yet different, fades from before his eyes before the boy can see it.
“I… huh?”
“What I mean to say is…” Mori’s eyes gaze into Chuuya’s, focusing the human’s attention on
what he’s saying. “...there is a chance you could live as long as yōkai do.”
Silence.
A heartbeat.
“As long as Dazai–kun will, perhaps.”
For a second, Chuuya feels like he isn’t really here, but somewhere else. Somewhere where
there is no sound, just the silence of his mind and the steady beating of his heart.
He could… live with Dazai?
He could… stay?
Forever? Or… close to it?
It’s impossible to imagine, impossible to hope for, but—
Could he, really?
“However, Chuuya–kun,” The god’s voice lowers, a single firm tone steadily keeping the
redhead focused. “Before you choose, you must realise what it would mean for you.”
The boy blinks at him, his mind struggling to process the new information he’s been given,
and Mori’s gaze looks both genuine and… apologetic. Pitying, even.
“Living a life like ours isn’t easy, especially not for a human.” The god slowly says.
But Chuuya doesn’t need it easy.
If he can just live with Dazai, if he doesn’t have to abandon—
“You have a human family, don’t you?” Mori’s voice softens, but remains clear as it reaches
the redhead. “By choosing to stay, you will watch all of them die. Family and friends.”
The words that have brought light into Chuuya’s life just seconds ago are now like a cold
shower, like a blow that punches the air out of his lungs.
He’ll watch uncle Adam and…?
“And the ones that have already died and moved on to the afterlife—”
Dad? Shirase?
Will the Flags, too…?
“—you won’t see them again.”
Not until he dies.
Which may not happen at all. Or may happen after the dead ones decide to move on and
reincarnate. Or even when – if – Chuuya dies… Yosano told him once, didn’t she? That
demons and the like don’t get to choose what happens next.
That they don’t get to experience the same afterlife humans do.
If accepting Arahabaki’s essence turns Chuuya into something else, into something not
human… will his right to choose be taken away, too? And if he doesn’t die at all, impossible
as it may seem to him now, Mori’s words will hold even more true.
Chuuya won’t see those who he has lost.
Those who are waiting for him and those who he is yet to lose.
The belief, the hope, that has always lived somewhere in the back of his head, a wish to see
his parents and Shirase – if Chuuya lives, his wish will die. Killed with his own two hands,
by his own selfishness.
But if he doesn’t, then…
“I know you love Dazai–kun and that he loves you just as much in return, but…”
Extending his hand to the redhead, Mori squeezes his shoulder, the dark red of his eyes
swirling with pity and sorrow that feels too understanding. As if the god could feel exactly
what Chuuya feels, as if he has experienced the choice himself, faced the question that has no
right answer to be given.
“...this has to be your choice, Chuuya–kun. Because there will be no going back from it and
once it’s done, the price to pay for it will be only yours.”
And unlike just a moment ago… Chuuya doesn’t know what to do.
//But you can choose to keep me here, too.//
For once, he doesn’t know what his heart wants.
It's still the same day when Dazai and Chuuya step out of Mori’s palace together, heading for
the black torii gate guarding the entrance.
As the redhead expected, something as simple as walking – or keeping himself up on his legs,
really – doesn’t come to him easily anymore. The years he has spent lying down took their
toll, no matter the spells that have kept him alive all this time. But it’s not too much of a
struggle when he can lean on Dazai’s arms, or when the kitsune's tails support his back.
Maybe it’s another godly trick Mori has cast on him, because Chuuya is pretty sure he
shouldn’t be able to get up on his own and, yet, he is, but the redhead isn’t going to complain
about it. He’s wearing his old, cleaned kimono, and his hair falls freely down his back. They
didn’t have time to cut it yet and, if he’s to be honest, he’d rather have Gin do it for him, the
way she has always helped him in the past.
The long strands are slightly annoying, which makes moving his body just a tad more
difficult than it really needs to be, but Chuuya never stops. He takes one step after another,
Dazai with him.
Back to where their home is.
Back to where he has left his family waiting for him.
Alongside them, Mori and Hirotsu walk down the stone path, accompanied by Yumeno’s
dark giggles. It’s still unsettling, the child’s voice and laughter, but not as much as the first
time Chuuya heard it. It doesn’t stir anything inside of him anymore, doesn’t fuel the hatred
that isn’t there, it’s just… something the redhead would rather not get used to if he can help
it.
“Do feel free to visit again whenever you feel like it.” Mori says when they stop under the
gate. His gaze slides form Dazai to Chuuya, smiling at the boy. “In better circumstances, next
time.”
And even if Mori’s words from before still ring loud and clear in his mind, and his heart is
torn between choosing the right path for his future. Even if there’s a conflict raging inside of
his heart as they speak, a fire born from a spark Chuuya wasn’t ready to face, the redhead
believes that it can be the case.
That it will be in better circumstances when they meet again.
Whenever it shall come.
Hirotsu nods at the god’s side. “We’ll be glad to welcome you again.”
“Thank you.” Chuuya offers each of them a smile, bowing his head politely.
Something tells him that they will be back here no matter what, just not too soon. After all,
they have so much to catch up on, back at home. So much lost time to make up for.
The kitsune hasn’t said anything about it yet, but Chuuya knows he misses their home, their
forest – their life. For a while from now, it will most likely be just them.
After everyone that has been worrying sick about Chuuya gets their share, of course.
“...thank you.” Dazai mumbles at the boy’s side, and Chuuya isn’t sure whether to feel
relieved, or surprised, or both.
While he’s glad the kitsune recognises how much Mori has done for them, he didn’t actually
expect him to say anything about it. Not this openly, however hesitant. He didn’t expect
Dazai to speak out his thanks with so much honesty and, if the redhead follows his gut
feeling, a sense of care woven into it.
Not to mention how the fox hasn’t declined the offer to visit again and, as far as the boy
knows, Dazai hadn’t been here in centuries before the ordeal with Arahabaki forced them to
come.
…just what happened when Chuuya was asleep?
Mori’s expression remains the same, but the red sparkles in his eyes seem to light up even
more at the fox’s quiet words, a sight Chuuya finds oddly familiar.
“I had Hirotsu inform your friends that you’ll be coming back soon, so you can expect your
family to be there, too.”
Inhaling deeply, Chuuya can’t stop the smile that stretches his lips when he thinks about the
chaos waiting for him back home. About the faces that he’s going to see, tears he’s going to
chuckle at, hugs that are going to suffocate him. And for once, it’s going to be a happy
moment, free of the sorrows or the looming doom – because there is none, not anymore.
It’s only a single worry that remains, a choice, but it’s only for Chuuya to know.
For now.
“We should probably go, then.” The redhead glances at Dazai and sees how his ears flicker
happily. “Thank you again, Mori–sama, Hirotsu–san.”
The two men only nod at that, smiling to themselves when Dazai’s tail wraps around Chuuya.
But before the blue flames come to life around them…
Dazai’s smile doesn’t completely disappear, but it softens into a merely polite one, only the
corners of it weakly curling up. His arm pulls Chuuya closer, but his face turns to Mori.
Unreadable, lost in thought and silent, when—
“Was that you?”
“Huh?”
Chuuya doesn’t know it, he can’t, but it’s the second time this question was let out into the
world. The second time the black torii gate hears it, and the second time it makes Mori’s
heart feel… like this.
Like he doesn’t deserve it, yet continues to hope for it.
Like a regret that has been eating him away ever since he found the fox on the verge of
dying.
It’s the second time for it to be asked but—

Meeting his gaze, Mori smiles. Kind and honest. And he nods.
“Let’s have a talk when you visit again, Dazai–kun.”
—it’s the first time an answer is given.
“What?” Chuuya tries again, confused, but Dazai’s tail only brushes his arm.
“Another time, little human.” Then, the fox nods at the two men one last time. “Well then.”
The next second, blue flames cover Chuuya’s vision, enveloping his world in familiar
warmth. And the next second after that…
“Chuuya!”
Dazai’s tails are gone from his body, replaced by arms and two bodies squeezing him tightly
into a hug.
“You’re awake—”
“You’re back—”
He can feel how Adam’s arms tremble around him, how Verlaine’s tension slowly fades from
his body as the man holds him – holds both of them – close.
He can feel the relief. Love. And the sadness that is only now allowed to show, before it is
eventually let go of.
“Hi.” The boy murmurs, his uncles’ emotions creeping into his own and playing on the same
strings. His voice begins to tremble as he hugs them back, feeling tears falling onto the skin
on his neck. “It’s been a while, huh?”
Even though for him, it was only a day or two.
“So long.” Adam whispers. “It’s been too long, kid.”
Pressing a kiss to the top of Chuuya’s head, Verlaine murmurs into the red hair. “We missed
you.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I’m…” It’s hard, keeping his tears from falling when his uncles don’t try to do the same.
“I’m sorry.”
Chuuya wanted to tell them, he knew he should have, precisely because something like this
could have happened – and it did. Right now, as they stand together and he can feel how
painful it must have been for his family, he regrets how weak he was back then—
“It’s okay now.” Paul says. “You’re okay now. We’re not angry.”
Pulling away, Adam hands come up to rest on Chuuya’s shoulders. “Are you okay now?” His
eyes are watering as he searches the boy’s face, cheeks red from salty tears.
Paul does the same, one of his hands never leaving the back of Chuuya’s head.
There’s worry in their eyes, but so is hope.
“I am.” The redhead whispers weakly, a wet chuckle blooming in his chest.
And only now does Chuuya see the small differences that mark the time he has spent
unconscious. Dazai, Mori, Verlaine… with them, it’s impossible to tell how much time has
passed because no matter what, they all look the same.
But Adam doesn’t.
There is grey hair slowly overtaking his head from the sides, wrinkles born of worry scattered
across his face. His eyes haven’t lost their shine, but his skin now looks older and more pale.
Tired. His posture isn’t as upright as it used to be.
He’s still the same uncle Adam Chuuya remembers and loves, but those past four years full
of sorrows and worry have taken their toll on the man, making him age more than he did in
all the years Chuuya has known him—
“I’m okay.” The boy repeats, looking from Adam to Paul. “Really.”
—and it’s Chuuya’s fault. A part of it, anyway.
“No more hiding the truth from us.”
“No more getting yourself almost killed.”
“No more—”
“I promise.” Chuuya stops them, squeezing their arms and chuckling through the tears. “I
promise it’s going to be okay now.”
He can’t be sure if his uncles believe him or not, but at least they seem to accept his words.
For now. Because he means every word he says, he’s determined to keep every promise even
if he has to fight the world and Fate itself for it.
And it’s because Adam pulls him into another hug that Chuuya doesn’t notice how Verlaine’s
head turns to Dazai, or the silent exchange through their eyes.
Or the way Paul’s lips word a quiet…
“Thank you.”
—four years ago—

Kneeling on the hard ground in an unfamiliar room, Verlaine can’t hear a single thought
forming inside his head. He isn't breathing, or at least he doesn’t feel like he is.
In this unfamiliar room, there is only a demon, the same one who once came to ask him for
his blessing – or maybe it was a curse, after all? – and a man, a friend.
And Chuuya.
With his heart still beating, but with body frozen still.
“...what do you mean you don’t know?”
Adam’s whispers ring loud between the silent walls, his voice growing stronger despite the
audible tremble of it.
“What—what is happening to him?”
“...” Dazai’s eye never looks up from Chuuya, his voice quieter than Verlaine has ever heard
it to be. “I don’t know.”
“How?!” It’s a snarl just as much it’s a sob, Adam’s eyes full of pain and questions and, much
like with any parent that has let their child down, guilt. “You knew about it! You…” The
man’s trembling hands cover Chuuya’s unmoving palm. “You knew about it when we came,
and you didn’t tell us…”
“...Chuuya asked me—”
“Yes and now he’s like this!” Adam’s body falls forward, his elbows resting on his knees as
he brings Chuuya’s hand to his face. “You were there, weren’t you?!”
“...I was.”
“Why didn’t you protect him?”
“...”
“You promised—”
“Adam.”
Before the man knows it himself, Verlaine’s voice silences the other two. It’s not sharp,
nowhere near firm, or commanding – it’s the weakness of it that makes Adam choke on his
own words as a hand settles on his back.
“That’s enough.”
It’s not that Verlaine doesn’t feel the same pain Adam does, it’s not that he doesn’t care, or
doesn’t have questions, or that he wouldn’t give anything to wake Chuuya up, to go back to
the last time they saw each other and act on the doubts he felt back then. His heart screams in
pain, his throat feels tight and every fibre of his being is asking the same question over and
over again.
Why, why, why, why, why—
But unlike Adam, Verlaine sees something the other man can’t.
The humans, their sorrow and suffering… Verlaine has seen it all, more times than he wishes
he did. Their emotions flow with tears and rip through the air with screams, or take their
voice away and cast shadows over the light in their eyes. He’s seen it, he has felt it himself,
but… he has also walked the earth much longer than any human.
Longer and among the places they don’t stray to, among the creatures that aren’t bound by
the same rules as humans are.
The emotion so clearly painted over Dazai’s face is something Verlaine has witnessed before
and something Adam cannot understand—
The pain of holding great power and, yet, feeling helpless.
The years upon years upon years of separating oneself from the world around you, only to
have the one thing that has ever been dear to you taken away.
Demons’ sorrows aren’t that of tears and screams, but of silent shadows that live beyond time
and into eternity. Of having seen it all and lived through more than one can imagine, only for
it to feel without a reason.
For their prolonged lives to feel like prison.
A punishment.
Verlaine would know.
He feels it, too. Every day and every night.
A part of Verlaine wants to feel angry at Dazai, to blame him for what has happened solely
because it would be easier than feeling like this, like, somehow, he is the one that has failed
Chuuya. But he can’t.
Not when Dazai’s face isn’t that different from how the man feels in his heart, from what he
remembers feeling when the Flags and Arthur…
“Paul…?”
Met with a pair of tearful eyes and one, empty orb, Verlaine feels his heart clench. “It won’t
change anything.”
“But—”
“Chuuya wouldn’t want it.” He rubs slow circles into Adam’s back. “He would say it was his
choice.”
“...”
“He’s stubborn like that, you know?”
“...I do.” Once more, Adam’s voice is barely a whisper. “I do.”
“I’m sorry.” The kitsune’s apology comes out hesitant, spoken more to himself, or maybe to
Chuuya, rather than to the two of them.
“Your apology won’t help, either.”
Because an apology is merely a few words spoken too late.
Briefly, Verlaine closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and when he meets Dazai’s gaze
again—
“But you’ll stay with him.”
—he doesn’t see a centuries–old demon.
“You’ll stay and you’ll bring him back, won’t you?”
He sees a young man, broken inside as his love lies at his side but outside of his grasp, taken
away by forces neither of them knows how to fight. Someone who feels loss stronger than a
thousand sorrows for the first time.
Someone who asks the same questions that they do and blames himself for it all, but—
“I will.”
—someone who doesn’t give up.
—present time—
It takes a long time for Chuuya’s uncles to let go of him and for their tears to dry up, but once
it happens, it’s almost the same as during the wedding all over again.
There’s Atsushi at Ryuu’s side, holding back his own tears. There’s Rashoumon running
around Chuuya’s legs, happily wagging his tail at the redhead.
There’s Gin and Kouyou, both teasing him about his hair when the redhead tells them he has
to cut it because he’s already going insane with it being this long.
There’s Oda and Ango, though only very briefly.

There’s Ranpo, also having aged slightly but visibly, even if not as much as Adam. And
there’s… some kind of tension between Dazai and Yosano. It’s not hostile in nature, the
kitsune doesn’t try to chase her away when she speaks to Chuuya, but the way he looks at
her… It was never friendly to begin with, not like with Oda or Ango, but now it’s…
Not quite cold.
Not quite blaming or hateful, just… indifferent.
Like he allows her to be here, but doesn’t wish upon it.
The conversations over tea and food carry on late into the night. No one is willing to let it
end, so they just stay there, together in the main room, and Chuuya learns about everything
he’s missed.
About Adam’s shrine and how a bunch of younger people have started helping out with the
work there, some of them interested in becoming priests. About Paul’s travels and all the
wonders he’s seen and all the letters to Chuuya he’s written and kept, waiting for the time he
could give them to him personally.
About how the village at the bottom of Kouyou’s hill has grown.
About everything, even if not much has changed out in the bigger world.
Dazai is always at Chuuya’s side, his tails lingering on the boy’s lap and behind his back. He
doesn’t speak as much as the others, but his presence is the one Chuuya feels the most –
constantly close, constantly seeking the boy out.
All of it is enough to distract the redhead from what Mori has told him, to push the troubled
thoughts away for another time and enjoy life as it is now. With his friend and family, at
home – easy.
Now is not the time to tell them – Dazai, anyone – Chuuya isn’t sure if he will ever be able to
tell them about it, but… Again, now is not the time for this. Tonight, it’s a night that calls for
smiles and laughter, and that’s exactly what fills Chuuya’s chest when he’s surrounded by the
people he loves.
The first one to start dozing off when the Moon is already high in the dark sky is Adam.
Obviously, the man refuses to leave, or admit he’s tired, but it’s not long before his eyes fall
shut and his head rests on Verlaine’s shoulder as the man’s breathing evens out.
Yosano has already left long ago, but it’s only now that Ranpo decides to go back as well.
Then it’s Atsushi, then Kouyou.
In the end, the Akutagawa siblings go back to their rooms, or their duties, whichever they
feel fit. Adam takes one of the vacant rooms – or rather, is taken to it – and Verlaine claims
another, and…
The sky over the horizon already begins to lighten up with the warm red and purple of a new
day as Chuuya and Dazai come back to their room.
To the room that has seen it all, both good and bad.
The room that stood empty for four years, and now—
As soon as the door slides shut, Dazai’s arms wrap around Chuuya’s middle and his face
presses into the red hair.
“...are you tired?”
Like this, the boy can't see it, but he can guess what the fox’s eyes look at.
The futon.
It’s obvious with how carefully quiet his voice is, with the faint hint of fear behind it: Dazai
doesn’t want Chuuya to fall asleep again. He doesn’t want him to never wake up again, not
when he has just got him back after all this time.
“A little.” Chuuya sighs, placing his hands over Dazai’s. “But I don’t have to sleep right
away.”
Humming to himself, the redhead leans more against Dazai’s chest, letting his weight rest in
the fox’s arms.
To be honest, having slept for a few years didn’t make Chuuya any more resilient to getting
tired, which is quite a pity, considering how much he has to catch up on. He still feels the
way he would in the past, after an eventful day and he will have to sleep all the different
emotions storming in his mind and heart off, at some point.
But it doesn’t have to be now.
It’s not the same as it was when Arahabaki was exhausting him from the inside. This is pure,
simple tiredness, something Chuuya can push away for a bit longer.
They stay like this for a long moment, right by the door and not uttering a single word. Dazai
holding Chuuya close and Chuuya listening to the soft melodies the kitsune hums over his
head.
When Dazai speaks up again, whispering the words into Chuuya’s hair, the boy can’t stop the
smile that blooms out of his heart and onto his lips, because—
“Welcome home.”
—because he’s home.

Tilting his head back, Chuuya glances at the kitsune – at the two eyes looking down at him
with their emotions offered bared. One white and red, and one black and red.
And both full of love that is only now beginning to heal after the torment of the long four
years.
“I’m home.” Chuuya whispers back. “Are you going to keep me standing the whole night?”
Well, the rest of the night. Most of it has already passed, the early morning creeping in on
them with the first ray of the day already.
“Can I?”
Chuuya doesn’t dare doubt that he would try to but—
“Absolutely not.” Letting out a sigh, the redhead turns around in Dazai’s arms. “It’s going to
be okay. I’ll wake up.”
“...you didn’t last time.”
And it probably won’t be easy for the fox to ever forget about that, but Chuuya’s human
needs aren’t something either of them can change.
“But I will, from now on.”
To be honest, a part of Chuuya shares the same worries, even if his voice doesn’t show it. A
part of him is worried that he’ll fall into the dark abyss for another few years. Into the
nothingness, or into the labyrinth of nightmares.
But he believes what Mori said – that he’s only himself now. Plus, there’s this feeling inside
of him, this knowledge Chuuya doesn’t know where it’s coming from, that the part of him
that isn’t who he used to be is… Not here.
It’s not out, but waiting somewhere deep.
Somewhere where it can’t reach him on its own.
The corners of Chuuya’s lips curl, a familiar taste of a tease coating his tongue. “You don’t
have to be afraid of our futon, stupid fox.”
Oh, how long has it been since the last time the redhead didn’t dread the nights?
Huffing out a laugh, Dazai flickers Chuuya’s forehead with his tail. “I’m not afraid of the
futon, silly human.”
“You sure seem like it.”
“Well, I’m not.” Then, Dazai kisses the same spot his tail flickered. “I simply don’t feel like
letting Chibi go just yet.”
A sigh. “I told you: I don’t need to sleep right now. I just don’t want to stand around all the
time.”
“Then—”
“And you are not carrying me around for the next few hours, either.”
Because even without Dazai finishing his thought, Chuuya knows that is exactly what the fox
had in mind. Four years may have passed, but the kitsune hasn’t changed. Not with this.
Letting out a defeated sigh, Dazai lets go of the redhead, settling on only holding his hand as
Chuuya guides them to the futon. He gave up on the idea quicker than the boy expected him
to. It was almost too easy, compared to how it used to be in the past. It shows that Dazai is
still worried, still cautious of hurting Chuuya by mistake, or setting his darker side off, which
the redhead appreciates, but—
“Osamu?”
Already half sitting on the futon, Dazai looks up at him, brows raised in a silent question.
“You aren’t going to pull that shit again, are you? About being afraid of touching me?”
The kitsune's eyes widen, then soften again. He brings Chuuya’s hand to his lips, brushing a
kiss to his fingers. “Does it look like I am?”
“Not yet.” The redhead mumbles, settling down next to him. “But I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Leaning back on his arms and stretching his legs, Chuuya cocks his head to the side, one
brow arched high. “Or are you trying to tell me you haven’t been thinking about it?”
“I have.” Two of Dazai’s tails settle over the boy’s legs, keeping them warm and feeling the
life that flows through Chuuya’s veins. Alive and awake. “But the need to keep you close is
much stronger, I’m afraid.”
“Good.”
The kitsune rolls his eyes, and Chuuya lets his gaze wander around the room. Around the
walls with ink splattered on them right above the floor, around where the huge mirror peeks
from its cover, around every sign of their life together.
At Dazai…
“You know…” Chuuya’s voice trails off, and Dazai’s ears turn to him instantly. “Since we’re
staying up for a while longer, we could do something more than just sitting around.”
Even if the fox keeps his face teasing, the way one of his tails stirs behind him, hesitant and
worried, betrays his disguise. “Oh? Is Chuuya feeling needy right after waking up?”
The redhead rolls his eyes in turn. “No.” Then, quieter… “I just wouldn’t mind it.”
Supporting himself only on one hand, he brushes Dazai’s tail with his fingers, watching how
the white fur slides between them. It’s not too tangled, someone must have nudged him to
take care of it at least from time to time, but Chuuya will have to take care of it later anyway.
“It’s been a while since the last time.”
Even if he doesn’t count how four years have passed, the last time the two of them allowed
themselves to be this close was… Well, the night Chuuya tried to kill Dazai.
For the redhead, it hasn’t been too long, merely a few weeks, but it’s a night he prefers not to
think about. A night he’d rather forget if he’s ever allowed to.
And if they consider the last time before then… it still hasn’t been that long, but with
everything that has happened since then – it feels like a lifetime has passed.
A very violent and stormful lifetime.
Which makes the redhead long for what they used to be, for a life they used to lead—
For what they can have once more.
Dazai hums, his lips curling at the corners. “It has, and we have quite a few celebrations to
catch up on~”
Well, they do, but… “I don’t think I’m up for that much yet…” The way he is now, walking
around is exhausting enough.
“I know, little human.” Dazai chuckles. Then, he leans closer as his hand covers Chuuya’s
over his tail. “I know.”
It’s softer now, without any tease behind it.
“Are you sure?”
Instead of answering with his words, Chuuya answers with a kiss. It’s slow, almost lazy, and
it lacks the desperation of their last one. That was a cry after a long night, a greeting after too
many tears have been shed, and this—
This is like taking a breath.
It’s Dazai’s tails that wrap around him, but it’s Chuuya who climbs the kitsune’s lap, cupping
his face in his hands as their lips slide together.
There’s no rush in their movements but there is longing. In every light or burning touch, in
every gasp and soft moan.
There are times when Chuuya’s hair, with how long it is now, gets in the way, which makes
the boy roll his eyes and groan, annoyed – maybe a bit more than would be reasonable, given
the situation – and the kitsune chuckles every time. But Dazai also seems to enjoy it, while he
still can. The way he slides Chuuya’s clothes off is slow, tender, but the way he playfully
pulls at the long strands is anything but.
Once again, just like they did on their first night after the wedding, Dazai’s black scars feel
warm under Chuuya’s palms as he maps the kitsune's body.
Every kiss is deeper than the previous one.
Every touch has more intent.
It takes longer for Chuuya to adjust again, for his body to relax into what Dazai gives him,
but once he does—
It’s perfect.
To have Dazai under his fingertips, on his lips and neck, inside of him. It’s slower than some
of the other times, the two of them enjoying the moment to the fullest and letting it last—
And once morning – or noon, actually – comes, Chuuya’s eyes flutter open from his
dreamless sleep to see a sight he’s seen a hundred times before, and will see a thousand times
more.
“Hi there.”
It takes these two murmured words for worry to fade from Dazai’s eyes, for his features to
relax, and—
“Good morning, my lovely husband.”
As the kitsune hugs Chuuya close to his chest, the boy listens to the soft purrs and smiles to
himself. It’s been a long time since the last time he heard them.
Too long.
(...but the secret stays hidden for a while longer still.)
Chapter End Notes
I'm back~
I moved out of my old apartment and moved into a new one in the past week!
Long Overdue
Chapter Notes
“Stop sulking.” Without moving his head, Chuuya glances at the kitsune sitting in the corner
of the room. “It won’t help you.”
Behind him, Gin carefully guides her knife higher and lets another long strand of red hair fall
to the floor around Chuuya’s cushion. He can feel a soundless chuckle escaping her when the
wolf’s breath washes over the top of his head, but her hand doesn’t hesitate as it does its
wonders.
Dazai, on the other hand, only flickers his ears while his expression remains unchanged. “I’m
not sulking.”
The hint of a pout ringing in Dazai’s voice makes Chuuya’s lips curl. “Oh, really? Is that why
you’re looking at my hair as if it committed an unforgivable betrayal? Because you aren’t
sulking?”
A snort. “Chibi is imagining things again, I’m afraid.”
If it was only about the expression Dazai is wearing now, maybe the fox would be able to
convince Chuuya to believe his little lie, but it’s not.
Ever since he woke up in Mori’s palace, Chuuya has known he would have to cut his hair. It’s
too long, too uncomfortable, getting everywhere and, most of all, too annoying to brush every
morning. He meant to had it cut as soon as they got home, but then everyone was here and
they had to catch up, so the boy decided to wait until the next day, but then—
Then, he had to wait another day.
And another.
All because Dazai, the overprotective and childish fox, felt uncomfortable with letting
anyone with something that could potentially cause harm close to him. All because Dazai
sent Gin for an errand and she wasn’t around.
All because Dazai was too busy playing with Chuuya’s hair.
The kitsune has never said anything about it, not directly, but Chuuya knows a pattern when
he sees one. It was adorable at first, to an extent, and funny, however…
“Is that so?” A satisfied smirk stretches on his lips. “That’s good, then. Because the long hair
is not coming back.”
It’s just not worth the struggle, not for Chuuya. But watching Dazai swallow down whatever
words his mind wanted to speak is filling the redhead with a, possibly, mean amount of
amusement and satisfaction. It’s something Dazai must know, his ears flickering once more,
but he doesn’t bother to comment on it.
“Your uncle seemed happy to be matching hairstyles, though.” The fox says instead.
While it may be true, Chuuya thinks Verlaine was much more happy to have him back – he
still is, they all are – and getting a haircut will not be enough to change that.
Rolling his eyes at the desperate and unsuccessful trick, the redhead has to hold back his
laughter so as not to move too abruptly. He trusts Gin with cutting his hair, she’s done it
many times before, but he isn’t keen on the idea of having his scalp cut by mistake just
because Dazai’s more childish side made him move without a warning.
“How considerate of you to be thinking about him.”
Lifting a brow, Dazai paints his voice with mock hurt. “Am I not always considerate?”
“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” Even though they both know the answer to that
question?
A sigh. “How rude.”
Behind Chuuya, Gin chuckles again, but remains focused on her task. It’s silent for a
moment, only the quiet sounds of a knife cutting long strands and the hair falling to where it
pools on the floor filling the room. The same, however, cannot be said about Chuuya’s mind.
While happiness and relief slowly restore the peace in his heart, the storm isn’t completely
gone just yet. It’s been a few days already since they came back and everything has been
nothing short of perfect in that time but—
The same thoughts birth the same questions.
Doubts crowd inside his head.
None of it feels urgent, not yet, but it’s there, and Chuuya—
He finds himself impatient with his own indecisiveness, frustrated with hesitation.
“...Dazai?” Glancing at the kitsune again, Chuuya is met with perked up ears and a brow
raised in a silent question. “Can I ask you something?”
The fox tilts his head to the side, one of his tails stirring. “Of course.”
“Do you…”
How does he make it sound not suspicious?
“Do you… know what the afterlife is like?” Chuuya’s voice is quiet but steady, carefully
curious rather than concerned. “Before someone chooses to, you know, reincarnate…?”
A second of silence follows the question, Gin’s hand halting as the girl hesitates and looks up
at the kitsune. And Dazai…
A shadow passes his eye, his tone more serious than before. “You aren’t dying, Chuuya.
There is no need to—”
“I know, I know.” The redhead is quick to reassure him, offering an awkward smile and a
small wave of his hand. “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, I promise.”
Not that he ever did, even before. The world simply isn’t always as understanding as Chuuya
– or any of them, really – would like it to be.
“I’m just curious.” When the kitsune continues staring at him without a word, the boy adds:
“Really. I didn’t go through all that trouble to die so fast now.”
After another second, Dazai’s shoulders and expression relax once more. A sigh from the fox
fills the silence as Gin continues to work on Chuuya’s hair, evening out the strands at the
back of his head.
“Not really.” Dazai eventually answers, more indifferent than suspicious now. “Only those
who have died and gone there would know, but it’s impossible to ask them. Any memory of
what lies there fades when a soul reincarnates.”
“I guess you can’t just… visit them?”
Even if it’s only for a few seconds.
Even if it’s only to say a single word, to see the lost ones’ faces for the last time—
Dazai shakes his head. “The dead can choose to stay behind among the living, given that they
haven’t moved on yet, but the living cannot disturb the dead in a world that doesn’t belong to
them.”
But it couldn’t have been anything more than wishful thinking, could it?
To dare think there is a way to trick Fate and have it all without losing the most important
things.
Absent–mindedly, Chuuya plays with the hem of his kimono as he thinks over what the fox
has just said. “Even the gods?”
Another shake, dark hair dancing over the white of Dazai’s bandages and his skin. “Death
itself guards the entrance and the dead souls behind it that wait to be reincarnated. It doesn’t
bow before anyone bound by it.”
And, as the two of them have not only been told but also have seen, the gods’ lives are not
beyond Death’s reach. They may walk the dimensions for longer than any other creation, but
they do die when their time comes.
Or before that.
Or after.
But they always do, in the end.
One of Dazai’s tails stretches out to Chuuya, wrapping around the boy’s wrist, and another
one brushes the cut strands from the redhead’s shoulders when Gin leans back, satisfied with
her job. “But you don’t need to worry about that.”
He doesn’t, at least not for the reason Dazai has in mind, but—
“I’m not worrying.”
—Chuuya can’t tell him that. Not yet. Not until he decides what he wants to do with his
future, which path to choose.
“I was just curious, that’s all.”
Dazai’s hum is interrupted by a quiet knock at the door, right before it slides open and reveals
Verlaine’s face. “Are you done…?”
Looking over his shoulder, Chuuya gives him a nod, chuckling to himself on the inside when
he feels the growing pout hidden under Dazai’s mask of indifference.
“Perfect. Because lunch is almost ready.”
Chuuya narrows his eyes slightly at the other man. If despite saying that he’s here, then…
“You made uncle Adam cook again?”
Sure, his uncle is unwaveringly stubborn about feeling much younger than his actual age, but
Chuuya doesn’t miss the way he massages his back after standing for too long. Or how he
doesn’t stand up from the floor as fast as he used to. Of course, he doesn’t say anything about
it, but the boy doesn’t want him to strain his body too much when he doesn’t have to.
Especially when Chuuya and Verlaine are here again, when they can do something to help
him.
To make up for the time they have lost over the last few years, both Adam and Paul are
staying over for the ten days that Verlaine’s curse allows him to be close with them. Which,
at least for Adam, means taking a break from his priest duties, helping out at the temple and
everything that comes with it.
He’s a guest, he should be allowed to rest and—
“Not really.” Crossing his arms, Verlaine leans on the doorframe with a smirk. It’s amused
and with a hint of fondness, his voice light. “He made your friend cook today.”
Chuuya blinks, just as Gin next to him. “...Ryuu?”
Verlaine nods, and Chuuya can’t help but join Gin’s giggling at his uncle’s next words
because…
“He’s been with him in the kitchen the whole time and even threw me out when I offered to
help, so be understanding to the boy.”
Ah, finally, all is as it should be.
If the first day was overflowing with emotions – relief, happiness, and everything in–between
and beyond – and the few days after that feel like a dream, like a frail bubble that could burst
any second but continues to envelop them all in its glittering warmth.
This is what Chuuya remembers.
This is what his life used to be like.
The same smell of food coming from the kitchen, the same jokes and teases being thrown
around by the people he loves. The same easiness with which the boy and those around him
can now smile, or laugh about Ryuu’s, for once successful, attempts at cooking – Adam’s
powers may just be more powerful than any demon’s.
It’s not until ten days’ mark hits that Chuuya finds himself in Verlaine’s embrace again, his
uncle struggling to accept the fact that it’s time to go already. It’ll only be mere days before
he can come back again and see Chuuya, but… much like with Dazai: after four years of
nothing at all, it’s hard to let go again.
Be it to let the redhead fall asleep, or walk away from the boy that has only just come back –
it’s never the same anymore.
“...I’ll send Guivre to check on you every day.”
Rolling his eyes for no one to see, Chuuya snorts into his uncle’s chest. “Give the poor bird a
break. I’ll be fine.”
“...”
“And you can visit again.” The redhead offers his uncle one more squeeze before taking two
steps back, smiling up at the man. “Right?”
“...” At the same moment, the flapping of Guivre’s wings fills the air as the bird settles on
Verlaine’s shoulders. “...every two days, then.”
“Uncle Paul—”
“No complaining.” The man cuts him off. “It’s too soon for that.”
Surrendering, Chuuya closes his mouth and exhales with his nose. “Fine.” He understands
where it’s coming from and he knows it’s partially his fault, because the last time they parted
Chuuya lied – still, he can’t help but think it’s excessive, even for Verlaine.
Verlaine’s gaze lingers on him for a long, silent second before the man speaks again. “No
more getting into trouble.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And no more—”
“Uncle Paul.” Involuntarily, Chuuya’s lips curl at the corners when he sees the older man
pout at him for being interrupted. “I know, okay?”
“...”
“I’ll see you soon?”
When Guivre makes an impatient sound, picking at Verlaine’s hair teasingly, the man
scratches the bird’s belly as an apology, smiling at Chuuya at the same time. “You will.”
And then, as Ryuu’s dark smoke covers the wolf’s and Verlaine’s bodies—
They’re gone.
Sighing once more, Chuuya runs a hand through his hair and half turns towards the house.
“You can come out now.”
It’s not even a second later that Dazai’s figure appears out of the shadows of the house and
into the Sun sprinkling down its summer rays over their garden. His tails sway lazily behind
him as the kitsune comes closer, offering Chuuya his arm – a gesture the redhead accepts
without fighting.
It has already been ten days since he woke up but it’ll take longer than that for his body to go
back to how it was. He’s far from exhausted – physically, anyway – but after spending the
whole day with his uncles outside and then sending them both off…
In any case, Chuuya appreciates the gesture.
“You didn’t have to hide, you know?” The redhead doesn’t try to come back inside. Instead,
he tugs Dazai towards the shadow cast by the sakura tree. “They like you.”
“It was out of consideration, little human.” When they reach the tree, the fox helps Chuuya
sit down before settling next to him, his tails all around the boy. “Unlike your uncles, I don’t
have to leave, so I’m willing to let them have you for a few minutes.”
“Sure, as if you weren’t watching us all this time.”
Dazai sends him a smirk, a red sparkle lighting up in his eye. “But I made sure not to
eavesdrop~”
“Yet, you heard me when I called out to you, huh?”
“Your uncle wasn’t here at that time anymore, was he?”
At that, Chuuya only shakes his head as he leans on Dazai’s shoulder, closing his eyes for a
moment to get his strength back. The kitsune lets him, the silence between them undisturbed
by anything other than the leaves’ rustling and the birds’ chirping above them when—
“Can I have you for myself now?”
Dazai’s voice is unhurried, seemingly absent–minded. It’s not a plea, not a request, it’s a
question that doesn’t seek an answer but hopes for it.
WIthout opening his eyes, Chuuya huffs out a small laugh. “I’ve been here all this time,
haven’t I?” He doesn’t need to see Dazai’s face to know the fox rolls his eye at the tease, he
can feel it in the way his tails stir.
“Can I have Chuuya for myself without anyone else around now?” The kitsune asks again.
A hum. “Ryuu and Gin will be back soo.”
“They won’t.”
“...huh?”
“Atsushi is taking Ryuu away for a few days.” Dazai explains. “And I gave Gin time off as
well.”
Hearing that makes Chuuya lean away to look up at Dazai. “You planned this?” It wouldn’t
be a surprise, not when he’s dealing with Dazai of all people but… when?
The kitsune shrugs. “And if I did?”
There’s a lot Chuuya could say back to that – that Dazai is overreacting, over complicating
things – but, in the end, he doesn’t end up saying anything. Not right away. Instead, fighting
with an involuntary smile tugging at his lips, Chuuya shuffles on the grass and lies down, his
head resting on Dazai’s lap as his eyes flutter shut once more.
“Then you’ll have to wait a bit more while I take a nap.”
And Dazai will wait.
Wait and watch over Chuuya’s sleeping frame, in the garden the redhead brought to full
bloom with his presence alone, and then…
For a while, it’ll be only the two of them.
It’s not right away that the two of them notice the difference.
At first when Chuuya woke up, there was too much happiness all around them for the
redhead to feel the seeds of darker thoughts taking root in his heart. With his uncles around,
Chuuya rarely ever felt anything other than joy and relief. Then, the days he spent with Dazai
were full of silent gestures and peaceful moments, of feelings whispered between the two of
them until…
Until, as all things that obey the passage of time, their days fell back into what they once used
to be.
Until Chuuya falls back into old habits, and Dazai with him.
Which, on its own, isn’t anything to be feared. If anything, it’s something that brings a sense
of security back into their life. However, as the words slipping from both of their lips become
more like they teases from their memories—
It’s now that Chuuya feels the darkness stirring inside of him.
It’s nothing like the suffocating hatred that used to cloud his judgement. This time, it only
comes when he feels himself growing annoyed, and it never truly takes a hold of his mind. It
fuels his groans with more irritation than the situation deserves and makes the anger last
longer whenever the redhead thinks back to the things that have been done to him.
It’s never more than he can handle.
It’s never overwhelming.
It’s just… something new to get used to. Especially for Dazai.
Since the first night he brought Chuuya to his home, Dazai has observed this curious human
that Fate brought to his doorstep before. He had observed his habits before he grew fond of
them, he had studied his moods before he started to look forward to every smile and notice
every frown.
He had known all there was to know about Chuuya’s mind and heart before he grew to love
him.
Or maybe it was love that guided him to understanding back then, who can tell?
Right now, however, Dazai finds himself in need of rewriting some of the rules that have
gathered in his mind.
The boundaries have shifted, for Chuuya. The jokes and teases that would never earn the fox
more than an annoyed huff in the past are now met with a pointed glare and seething teeth,
even if it all but disappears merely a few seconds later. Whenever something plays on the
wrong strings of Chuuya’s heart, the seconds of silence grow into minutes – sometimes, even
hours.
The redhead’s anger has become more vocal, more present.
His sadness, once September comes, more… lonely.

Although, even if there’s more hissed out comments between them now and even if Chuuya’s
gaze has become more stern—
None of it is enough to break what they have.
None of it is enough to make it feel any less than before.
The first time Chuuya got angry at him more easily than Dazai had thought he would have,
was a shock – but it was also a lesson, just like everything that followed. The kitsune has
already started rewriting everything he knows to match the way Chuuya is now, and while it
is different from what he knew… It's also endearing.
There’s charm to mellow Chuuya, always has been, to watching the human smile and hum
quiet songs to himself as he paints or tends to the garden. But there’s also charm to seeing his
lips twitch and hearing defiance vibrating through his voice.
A challenge.
A dash of spice added to their life, some would say. Because after every fight there is also
time to make up after it.
Unless, that is, it’s not quite anger that seeps into Chuuya’s words and gaze, but something
else… Something Dazai can’t grasp and Chuuya won’t share.
“Chibi?”
Sitting on the engawa, Chuuya has been blindly staring at the woods surrounding their house
for a good hour now, and Dazai can feel the moment his mind is brought back. Blue eyes
blink, surprised, then his brows frown slightly and his nose wrinkles as the redhead looks up
at him from his spot.
“How much longer are you going to call me that, stupid fox?”
Another small change, though of little consequence.
In the very beginning when Chuuya was still, technically, working here, the redhead used to
hiss and snarl every time Dazai called him by the nickname the fox had come up with. For a
while after their fight and everything that happened with Ace, ‘Chibi’ was the only name
Dazai was allowed to call Chuuya, but that’s long in the past now.
Then, while not quite what Chuuya was looking for, the boy didn’t seem to mind it that
much. For Dazai, it’s more of a habit than it is a jab anymore—
“Forever?”
—even if the redhead’s former attitude towards the nickname has come back, fueled by the
little essence that burns somewhere at the bottom of his soul.
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya lets out a small huff – annoyed, yes, but also unfocused, as if his
mind is still occupied with something more far away, hidden. “I have a name, you still
remember that?”
“Of course~” Happily grinning to himself, the kitsune settles on the wooden panels next to
Chuuya. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you decided to change it.”
Another huff, but Chuuya’s words lack the bite. “I’m not changing my name to that stupid
joke, Dazai.”
A hum. “What about taking my name, then?”
As the meaning of Dazai’s words settles around them, Chuuya’s faint annoyance fades,
giving way to blown eyes and slightly parted lips. To the surprise and the lack of words.
To the…
(...yet another question without an answer.
Chuuya’s name, his mother’s last name, is one of the last strings between the redhead and his
old life, his human life. If nothing were to change, if he were never to choose between
staying by Dazai’s side or seeing his family one more time—
If it weren’t for any of that, Chuuya would have never hesitated. Probably.
But now, he does.
Because what if, one day, he comes to choose to stay? To abandon the family waiting for him
somewhere out there? What if, should that time come, he won’t even have his own name to
remind him of who he used to be, who his family was?
If he chooses to hold onto his humanity, Chuuya will give Dazai everything else he has to
offer – his heart, his soul, his name and every second of every day he walks the earth – but
the time to make that choice is yet to come.
Right now, Chuuya can’t answer.
And he can’t tell Dazai why, either.)
“...what?”
“It’s not a joke if that’s what you’re thinking.” The fox hums, his eyes scanning Chuuya’s
expression, while his soul searches deeper. As deep as it can, with the bond between them
still weakened.
“I’m…” Furrowing his brows, Chuuya hesitates, visibly troubled. “I didn’t think…”
“I didn’t forget about it, back at the wedding.” Dazai says, his ears turned to the sides. “I
always meant to ask.”
“...but you’re asking me now?”
For a reason the kitsune can’t seem to understand, there's a single note of suspicion threaded
into Chuuya’s voice. As if he expected Dazai to try and gain something from asking about it
now, rather than before. It’s not strong enough to be of worry, not really, especially with how
Chuuya is now, but it’s audible enough for Dazai to pick up on and answer accordingly –
honestly, instead of another tease.
“I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.” Carefully, Dazai tucks a loose strand of red hair behind
Chuuya’s ear. “And then I… feared it was too late to ask.”
The edge to the redhead’s gaze softens, his shoulders falling slightly as he mumbles the
words… “...and that’s how you decided to go about it?”
“Apparently?” When no answer comes, he adds… “But you don’t have to answer right away.
It wasn’t my plan to ask about it now, anyway.”
“...no?”
Dazai shakes his head, dark locks dancing over his face as the early–autumn breeze dances
around them. “I saw a chance and took it, that’s all.” Then, softer… “I’m sorry I troubled
you, Chuuya.”
Reach up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, the redhead looks to the side. “No,
I’m… I’m not troubled.”
“You seem like it, though.”
“Maybe I’m just tired, huh?”
“I’ve seen you tired before, Chuuya, you wear it differently to this.” The boy groans but
doesn’t answer. “So? Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or…?”
Chuuya’s hand moves up from his neck to his head, ruffling his own hair, which in turn
obstrucks his face from Dazai’s view.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He says. “It’s just—I’m tired, okay?”
“Chuuya…”
“Really.”
A few years ago, this much force put into one word in a situation like this would set alarm
bells off in Dazai’s head, but after getting to know this new side of Chuuya, the fox isn’t sure.
It could be something, but it also could be nothing. At the very least, the redhead isn’t hurt.
There is no pain tainting his soul, only the shadows of grieving sorrows that crawl out every
September remain.
Maybe that’s what it is?
Maybe it’s the anniversary of his friend’s death that brings out the darker, troubled aura
around him?
“Dazai, it’s—”
Closing his eyes, Chuuya takes a deep breath, and when he looks back up at the fox – it’s
there, the hint of an uncertain mind. But so is Chuuya’s bright stubbornness, a side of him
Dazai not only adores but also admires. There’s truth in the blue orbs, too, stronger than any
doubt.
“Nothing is wrong, I promise.”
When the boy speaks up, he keeps his voice calm but the kitsune can still hear a slightly
annoyed tremble of it – a mark made on the redhead by Arahabaki’s leftover essence. A mark
he knows how to control, how to tame, though it took some practice to get here.
“There’s just too much going on.” Reaching out to Dazai, Chuuya rests his hand over the
kitsune’s. “You had four year, I didn’t. I’m still not over everything that has happened, and
then there was Shirase’s—”
Another deep breath, and Dazai intertwines their fingers to make it easier, to show Chuuya he
can and will wait for when the redhead is ready.
“My point is… it’s something I need to deal with on my own, but I am fine.”
“...”
Searching the boy’s face, Dazai finds himself torn. The expression, the look in Chuuya’s eyes
and the words he speaks – all of it feels genuine, honest, and yet—
“...you don’t have to deal with it yourself.”
—and yet, something inside the kitsune worries. A single call of his instincts.
“I know.” Chuuya reassures him. “But I need to. For now.”
“...”
“So trust me?”
Dazai can feel it, he can feel that if he pushes even further than that, it’ll make Chuuya’s
mind lean into the temptation of fighting, of closing off from him. The fox has seen it before
and he has learnt to handle it – play with it, even, when it’s nothing too serious – but
sometimes, in situations like these, it’s not a push that Chuuya needs.
Not an opening to fight until he can’t anymore.
It’s…
A sigh. “I always do, little human.”
Chuuya’s eye twitches, but whatever snarl was blooming in his throat, the redhead swallows
it down. In its place, the boy stretches his back until his bones pop, leans back on one arm,
his other hand still in Dazai’s hold, and looks back at the garden that slowly begins to turn
gold before their eyes.
The two of them stay silent for a while.
Despite the tingle of concern Dazai can’t seem to shake off, the fox chooses to let go of the
matter. Maybe it truly is the way Chuuya said, maybe there has been too much going on in a
too short span of time – for the redhead, anyway. Maybe, once September passes, the small
frowns and faintly pained gazes that taint Chuuya’s face from time to time will fade with the
summer heat.
Or maybe not.
Dazai can’t know that, neither of them can—
“I’ll think about it.” The boy murmurs, tilting his head to the side until it rests on his
shoulder. “About the name.”
One of Dazai’s tails stirs, his ears perking up without the fox even trying to hide his
reactions, but his voice remains calm, understanding. “Thank you.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just—”
“Complicated.” Dazai finishes for him, sending the boy a satisfied smirk under a thankful
eye. “I can tell.” Even if the reason as to why remains beyond what the fox can see, or sense.
“...yeah.”
“It’s okay.” Leaning down and to the side, Dazai plants a kiss on Chuuya’s forehead, one of
his tails wrapping around the boy’s wrist. “No matter the answer, I can wait.”
No matter the answer Chuuya gives him, Dazai will never feel any less happy than he is now.
Any less blessed, to have the love that he was so afraid of losing sit by his side, alive and
well and—
And just as happy.
Chuuya may continue to fight his own battles, but they don’t take away from the joy of every
day he gets to spend with everyone, of every smile and laugh he shares with them. And it’s
among these smiles that the redhead spends the next couple of months, experiencing
everything that he couldn’t for the past four.
Exchanging letters with Verlaine.
Visiting Adam at the shrine.

Having tea with Kouyou and Gin.
Teasing Ryuu about how Atsushi has been taking him away on “errands” more often now.
Sometimes, Ranpo finds his way here, with or without Yosano. Other times, it’s Oda and
Ango who come to visit Dazai and stay perhaps a little longer than they should.
And every day, it’s the kitsune who remains at Chuuya’s side. It’s Dazai, who is the last
person Chuuya sees before falling asleep and the first one to welcome him back awake. It’s
Dazai, who takes him to all the corners of the world whenever the redhead seems curious
about seeing something new, eager to get out of the four walls of their house.
It’s Dazai, whose white fur seems to shine among the autumn leaves falling around them,
then disappear among the snow covering the garden only to bring out the most of the colours
of the flowers surrounding their home once spring warms up the world with its first rays.
Those are the months of peace and happiness.
Of healing and enjoying their married life, something long overdue.
And during that time, Chuuya continues to think about what Mori told him – about the
decision that remains yet to be made.
It never becomes easier and the redhead is sure Dazai can sense it whenever the struggle
starts to become too much, but every time it happens, Chuuya simply… puts it off for a while
longer. Over and over again.
He doesn’t need to rush.
It won’t hurt him to wait, even if a part of him feels guilty for never telling Dazai the truth.
The whole truth.
The bond between them never broke, but it thinned out when everything went down and
never fully recovered to what it once was. The fox can still feel what Chuuya is feeling but he
needs to focus on it. He needs to know what to look for and…
If he doesn’t know it’s there, and if Chuuya hides it well enough, Dazai doesn’t have to know
about the guilt the redhead lives with.
He will, one day, but before then…
“Say, Osamu.”
Lying on the futon, arms crossed under his chin, Chuuya’s lazy gaze slides to the kitsune
searching through the mountain of scrolls that has piled up in their room. It’s about
something Kouyou asked for, a certain old passage that was, supposedly, lost to time and
somehow happens to have ended up in Dazai’s possessions. She asked for it a while ago but
the fox is only now trying to find it and, while watching him in silence, a thought has crossed
Chuuya’s mind.
The kitsune hums, still looking over all the different scrolls when—
“How many partners did you have before me?”
Dazai’s hands freeze, his tails stiffening. He looks at Chuuya over his shoulder, one dark eye
slightly narrowed and tone lowered, serious… “Do you need me to strengthen the spell
around your neck?”
Chuuya can only blink at that, caught off–guard by the question. “Huh?”
“Is it getting to your head again?”
It takes another few heartbeats for the boy to understand, and when he does…
“No.” Rolling his eyes, Chuuya props himself up on both elbows. “I’m not angry, or being
controlled, or whatever. I’m just asking.”
Dazai’s tails stir again, suspicious, but then the fox nods. Reluctantly, he goes back to his
search, conveniently ignoring the question the boy has asked, but Chuuya doesn’t let it go so
easily.
“So? I answered when you asked me the same thing.” And, all things considered, Chuuya
picked a better moment to ask about it than Dazai did.
Even without seeing his face, the way one of Dazai’s ear twitches is enough for the redhead
to know the fox’s lips did the same as he weighs his words without looking at Chuuya.
“...I am quite a bit older than you, yes.”
That’s… not an answer. Not a full one, anyway.
“So… you did have partners before?”
“...” Another twitch. “...occasionally.”
“‘Occasionally’?
Letting out a sigh, Dazai puts down whichever scroll he’s been holding and turns around to
face Chuuya more properly. There’s no remorse in his expression, no shyness – only genuine
reassurance and a note of… indifference, but only when he speaks of the past, not the present.
“There were times I slept with other demons, yes, but even in the hundreds of years I’ve been
alive it was rather rare. I had more interesting things to occupy myself with.”
Arching a brow, Chuuya tilts his head. “Like killing them?”
A smirk welcomes itself to Dazai’s lips at that, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “Among
other things, yes.”
It’s been a long time since the fox has grown used to mentioning the less… pretty parts of his
life, having learnt that Chuuya doesn’t mind hearing about it. He doesn’t hide it, nor does he
try to lessen the emotions that he used to have towards it, but there’s no pride in those
memories he speaks of.
“And…” The kitsune trails off, coming closer to the futon and leaning over the boy with a
lopsided smirk. “...even then, they were never important.”
Mirroring Dazai’s expression, Chuuya leans back on the futon, red hair sprawled on the white
pillow. “Oh?”
“None of them were my ‘partners’, that can only be Chuuya.”
//I will only ever love you, Chuuya. I promise.//
“I don’t need anyone else.”
And Chuuya believes him, sighing into the kiss and sealing a promise that was made a long
time ago but remains true as days and years pass by. Hearing it again, though spoken with
different words, makes the redhead wonder: was that what he wanted to hear?
Will it make anything easier?
Chapter End Notes
Theeeeeeeeeeeey areeeeeeeeeeee soooooooo innnnnnnnnn looooooooove~~~~~
A few secrets here and there aren't a bad thing, okay
Also, yes, this chapter has 4k of added content that wasn't in the twt thread so if you see
me upping the final chapter count again, no you don't.
Game of Hearts
Chapter Notes
A blissfully uneventful life.
New days that carry the same taste as the old ones.
Despite the stinging secret picking at the redhead’s mind and despite the slight shift in his
temper—
This is what Chuuya has always hoped for, what they all have fought for. And, as some would
say, from the reclaimed peace and quiet, new traditions were born – or rather, imposed. Not
through force, of course, but through guilt and worry and… love. His uncles’ love.
Every month, even if it’s only for a day or two, Chuuya makes sure to visit Adam’s shrine
and show his uncle that he’s doing fine. Sometimes, especially in the beginning, Dazai would
come with him with his tails and ear hidden away, sticking close enough to always have
Chuuya within his reach in case anything happened. Much like any other time the two of
them would leave the safety of their home and Dazai’s protective spells, no matter who or
where they set out to visit.
But now, after almost a year has passed since Chuuya woke up from the depths that had kept
him asleep for four springs, the kitsune doesn’t argue too much when the redhead wants to
spend a day with his family alone.
It’s Dazai’s flames that carry the boy here and then bring him back home, but the fox doesn’t
stay around every single time anymore. Chuuya has never actually asked where he is when
the redhead can’t see him, whether he goes home – something Chuuya highly doubts – or
stays in the forest surrounding the shrine, but he doesn’t feel the need to. He’s pretty sure
Dazai is always somewhere in the area, keeping his distance and not listening in on Chuuya’s
conversations.
That’s the one thing the kitsune promised him – that he’d respect Chuuya’s privacy. And the
boy’s uncles’, too. Most days, the redhead tells him all about it later on anyway.
Most days.
Not all of them.
And today…
June has finally come to settle around the world, the hot summer weather washing over their
world with the blazing sun rays and sudden showers. The explosion of flowers has already
passed, leaving behind green sceneries and late blooming fields scattered around.
Watching the rain and enjoying the chilled breeze after a morning of burning heat, the three
men sit by the open door in one of the smaller buildings around the shrine, the same one
Chuuya spent his teenage years in. The same one he always stays at whenever he’s visiting.
Today, Verlaine is with them as well.
Although… It’s not as much of a surprise as it would be a few years back.
For all those months that Chuuya has been visiting Adam on a regular basis, Verlaine has
always made sure to be there, too. Sometimes it’s the redhead who tells him about it in the
letters carried by Guivre. Other times, and especially when the visit is more of a spontaneous
idea, either Ryuu or Gin offer to help them.
But he’s always here.
Maybe it’s because he’s still scared of losing even more time with Chuuya than he already
did, or maybe it’s because Adam is getting older – the redhead doesn’t know which it is, or
which is more of a reason. It’s a mixture of both, most likely, because, from what Chuuya is
told, Verlaine visits even more often than the boy does.
Even if he doesn't have to help Adam around the temple anymore – the young ones and
priests–in–training do it now – and even if he can’t stay around for more than a few days, it’s
safe to say that Verlaine never goes on his longer travels anymore.
And these few hours of family time every month are for the three of them – Adam, Paul,
Chuuya, and no one else.
Well… the Flags are also here, lazing around outside the door and unbothered by the rain, but
they rarely ever say anything when Adam is around, feeling too guilty to have their words
never be heard by the one who longs for them the most. Their support comes from just being
here, not their voices.
It’s the simplicity of it that the redhead loves, the feeling of normalcy that being with his
family brings him. He loves spending time with Dazai and everyone else, of course, but it’s
here that Chuuya always comes back when in doubt. When he doesn’t know what to do and
needs someone to guide him.
It’s with Verlaine and Adam that Chuuya can feel like a child again.
That he doesn’t fear showing his vulnerable side, his inner conflicts – that he doesn’t fear
asking for help.
Because he knows his uncles will understand him in the way he needs someone to. Adam, as
a human who feels the struggles of living at the border of two worlds, will understand every
emotion lurking in Chuuya’s heart and Verlaine… He’s lived longer than any other human
alive today, and he has lost just as much because of it.
They are the opposites, the two sides of Chuuya’s conflict.
The two lives he could have and… the two sacrifices.

Letting out a content sigh after taking another sip of his tea, Adam lets his eyes close as the
three of them listen to the rhythmic notes of the rain tapping on the roof.
“I could get used to it.”
Verlaine lets out a snort, bringing his own cup to his lips. “As if you aren’t already.”
“I have no idea what you mean. I’m still a very busy man—a priest around here.”
A hum. “Busy with telling your new mentees what to do next?”
Chuuya lets out a chuckle, but doesn’t try to come between them, choosing to stay as an
observer of a play he’ll never get bored of.
“Do you think being responsible for that many young people is so small of a task, dear
friend?”
“I would never.” Side–eyeing Adam, Verlaine sends the man a smirk over the rim of his cup.
“I do, however, recall hearing you giving your new mentees their lessons from this very
spot.”
The other man’s head falls to the side, one eye cracking open. “That was one time.”
“Two times, actually.”
“I had a guest the second time, it doesn’t count.”
“Ah, so it was three time in total after all.” Before Adam can argue, Verlaine is already
speaking up again. “I saw it twice, but neither of those was with that brat around.”
Chuuya looks up from his cup, brows slightly raised. “You mean… Ranpo?”
“He does.” Adam answers for him.
“Ranpo is…” The boy blinks. Once, then twice. “He’s… coming here?”
“From time to time.” Taking another sip of his tea, Adam shrugs and closes his eyes again.
“We talked at your wedding, and then he started stopping by whenever he was bored.”
That’s… new—well, old in a way, but new.
Why is Chuuya only hearing about it now?!
“You’re friends now?”
Adam hums. “I would guess so. He likes listening to my old cases and stuff like that.”
“He also likes to prove how much quicker he’d solve them.” Verlaine chuckles.
“Well, he is a brat like that.”

Chuuya doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Verlaine lets out a sigh, faint amusement painting his voice. “They were having a bet.”
“...a bet?”
“About how quickly you’d pick up on it.”
“I—huh?” Looking from Verlaine to his other uncle, Chuuya isn’t sure what the correct
reaction would be in this situation.
Shock? Feeling betrayed? Both?
But more importantly—
“What did you—who won?!”
Adam’s lips twitch, his finger tapping the half empty cup. “Ranpo, obviously. He got it down
almost precisely.”
At that Chuuya can’t help but frown a little. “And what did you give me?”
“Less than him.” The man laughs. “So save the glare for someone else.”
With an even deeper frown, Chuuya looks back at Verlaine, but the man shakes his head, and
when the redhead’s gaze slides to the Flags… They weren’t looking in his direction in the
first place, but now it seems like they’re focusing on avoiding eye–contact. Or making any
moves, for that matter.
Traitors, that’s what they are.
Friends would have never—
“So?” Adam says, a small smile on his face. “What’s troubling you today, kid?”
The question makes the boy’s mind come to a sudden halt.
Chuuya expected this question to come sooner or later. He didn’t put much effort into hiding
it, either, knowing that even if Adam wouldn’t have picked up on it, Verlaine would. One of
them always does. The Flags, too.
And right now, they are all here – waiting for Chuuya to finally say it out loud. It’s what he
has come here for, though it’s only himself that he has admitted it to, and it’s exactly the
reason why Dazai isn’t here to listen to it, but—
No matter how many times Chuuya thinks of how to put it, it never feels right.
It scares him.
It makes him feel like no matter what he does, he will end up betraying someone he loves—
“Chuuya?” Next to him, Verlaine tilts his head to take a better look at the shadows settling on
the boy’s face.
To soothe his worries, at least for now, the redhead offers his uncle a smile, then goes back to
observing the swirling liquid in his cup. “Say, uncle Adam…”
There will never be a correct way to say it.
Neither of the choices will be ‘correct’... and neither will be ‘wrong’.
“Do you think you’ll move on after… you know, when your time comes?”
Which, hopefully, won’t come for many years, because Chuuya isn’t ready to lose him yet.
He may never be ready for it. It’s merely a question, for now.
Verlaine doesn’t say anything, only looking at the redhead with a confused expression. The
Flags remain unmoving, only listening to the conversation, but Chuuya thinks he can sense
how their smiles grow weaker, their eyes dimmer.
Adam’s eyes open, surprised by the question, wrinkles forming in the corners when the man
smiles at him, his brows high. “Putting me in the grave already? I’m hurt.” His uncle’s tone
remains playful, shamelessly teasing as it plays with Chuuya’s guilt without the man realising
it.
“No.” The boy rolls his eyes, feeling the atmosphere lighten ever so slightly, even if the
weight on his heart remains. “You aren’t going there for a long time still, not if I can help it.”
Verlaine huffs out a laugh next to him. “He’s too stubborn to go down that easily, anyway.”
The comment makes even the Flag’s shoulders shake as raindrops pass through their bodies.
“Says the old man who was around before this temple was even built.” Adam teases back,
waving his hand.
“Maybe, but you look older.”
Adam straightens his back, turning his head towards Verlaine to look at him over Chuuya,
chin held high. “I look perfectly fine.”
A hum. “True. Grey really does suit you.”
At that, both Chuuya and Albatross can’t hold their chuckle back.
“It kind of does.” The redhead says, biting his lip to hide his smile.
Shaking his head, Adam puts his cup down and brings his hand to Chuuya’s head, ruffling the
boy’s hair in retaliation. “That hurt even more, kid. Don’t just take his side like that!”
“I’m not taking sides!”

Still with his lips curled, Chuuya escapes Adam’s hand and rolls his eyes when Verlaine
beams at his side, more satisfied with himself and with the boy’s comment than he should be.
“But will you?” The redhead asks again, not as hesitant anymore. “I’m just curious.”
“Well…” Studying Chuuya’s face, the serious note in his expression, Adam gives himself a
moment to think. “I think I’d like to if I can. I don’t know how exactly it will work but…”
Looking at the open door, Adam lets out a sigh. He can’t see the Flags but he must know
they’re there, and that they’re listening to everything being said.
“...I’ve made them wait long enough already.”
Albatross just waves his hand over his shoulder, dismissing the comment despite knowing the
man can’t see it. Iceman shakes his head as he looks away, while Lippmann and Doc only pat
String Man’s shoulders. They never voice out their expectations, nor do they share their
hopes, but Chuuya can see it all without the need to hear them say it and Adam…
It may have been decades ago, but they were his family once.
He knows them.
“I’d like them to finally rest in peace and not be stuck here, waiting for me.”
“...” Nodding slowly, the redhead glances at Adam again. “Dazai say people can reincarnate
if they choose to.”
The man considers it for a second, looking from Chuuya to the rain. “That’s nice, I guess.”
“Will you…?”
Another second of silence follows, now Verlaine’s eyes glance at Adam over Chuuya’s head,
too.
“Eventually.” – is the answer the man offers them. “I am a priest, remember? It’s what we all
wish for in the end.”
“Do you…”
Chuuya isn’t sure if Adam would know, if any of them can know for sure, but he asks either
way – he needs to let it out, no matter the answer.
“Do you think my parents did?”
Inhaling deeply, Adam lets the question settle in his mind before he offers anything back, but
even then… “I didn’t know your parents well enough to say for sure.” He glances back at
Verlaine, seeing the blond man smiling weakly behind Chuuya’s back and—
Paul understands.
He places his hand on Chuuya’s shoulder and the boy turns his head towards him. “I’m sure
they’re waiting for you, somewhere out there, before they decide to… come back and try
again.”
It’s supposed to be encouraging, it’s supposed to help him, make him happy, and Chuuya
knows it—
It’s just that a part of him can’t bring itself to appreciate it the way he should.
The way it’s supposed to.
Because he doesn’t know if that answer breaks his heart into pieces, or fills it with joy. He
doesn’t know if he’s glad that he has a chance of seeing them one more time, or if it comes
with responsibility he can’t shoulder right now.
“...” Chuuya swallows dryly, his heart feeling heavy. “What about you…?”
The question surprises Verlaine for a moment, and when the man considers it… it feels like
he’s thinking about it for the first time. Like he has never thought he would ever need to
choose.
“I’m not sure if I would have a choice.” He ends up saying. “I’m not sure if I have a soul that
could stay behind if this body were to be destroyed.”
A sigh rings from Chuuya’s other side before his uncle’s mumbled words. “Here we go
again…”
“...” Narrowing his eyes at Adam, Verlaine’s lips twitch. “...since I’m not human.”
“See? I told you.”
“And since I was made out of empty pieces tied together in the first place.”
Putting his hands up in mock surrender, Adam doesn’t say anything else, but it’s his eyes that
hold the victory Verlaine tried to claim.
“But I don’t age, kid, and I don’t get sick, so why would you…?”
It’s true that asking Verlaine this wasn’t the logical choice, but nothing in Chuuya’s life feels
logical anymore. He needs all and any answer he can get, see every angle and consider every
possibility as he ignores the headache it gives him.
“Don’t you feel lonely?” The boy’s voice is quiet. Shy. “Without my dad…?”
Without all the people Verlaine watched die in front of him.
With the knowledge that, one day, even Adam and the Flags will leave him.
Or that Chuuya may leave, growing older than his uncles will ever look.
There’s a hint in Verlaine’s expression that doesn’t feel genuine, that feels like a veil keeping
his sorrows hidden from the eye. It has always been there for as long as the redhead
remembers, but it’s only now that Chuuya not only notices it but can also peek behind it,
however briefly.
“I’ve learnt to live with it, kid.” Verlaine’s smile is kind and honest, but it’s holding back a
sad note. “I had to. Both for myself and everyone who has ever cared for me.”
Then, Verlaine’s brows furrow slightly, his gaze growing more worried about the present
rather than melancholic of the past.
“But why do you ask?” The man asks. “Is something wrong again? Did something happen?”
“Is it acting up again?” Adam asks from behind, and Chuuya has to quickly shake his head
before his uncles spiral down the wrong path.
“No, no—everything is fine.”
…or is it?
Sometimes, the redhead thinks his life would have been easier if he had never had that choice
offered to him. Not happier per se, just… easier. Both to live and to enjoy it.
“It’s… too fine, actually.” He mumbles it more to himself than to the other two men, but the
words don’t escape their focus.
Adam lifts a brow at him. “‘Too’ fine?”
“You aren’t making much sense, kid.”
He know, he knows, it’s just—
Gods, why can’t at least one thing in his life be easy? Doesn’t he deserve it, after everything
he’s been through?!
Actually… maybe gods should just leave him alone at this point, at least for now.
When the redhead speaks again, there’s a resigned note to his voice, as if he’s navigating
through a labyrinth without much care for where he’s going, or whether the exit exists or not.
“...you know the god that helped me and Dazai?” When his uncles both nod at the same time,
Chuuya’s lips twitch involuntarily. “He told me something before we left and…” A sigh. “I
don’t know what to do about it.”
Shifting on his cushion, Chuuya brings his knees up to his chest, hugging them as his smile
falters.
“He said there is a way I can live as long as Dazai.”
The moment that single statement settles, the redhead can feel it clearly.
He can see how the Flags turn around to look at him with wide eyes, he can hear the moment
Verlaine’s breathing halts and the quiet, breathed out ‘what’ Adam lets out. He can sense how
confused they are, see how they begin to smile ever so slowly, the same reaction Chuuya
gave the first moment he learnt about it, but…
“Chuu—”
“But I won’t get to meet anyone if I stay.” It’s now, when he admits it out loud to himself that
Chuuya’s voice begins to tremble. “Dad, mum, Shirase, you all when you move on—”
He takes a shuddering breath, his nails digging into his arms almost painfully as he forces the
words out.
“There’s this afterlife where everyone is supposed to wait and meet each other, but I wouldn’t
be able to go there until I die. If you all decide to reincarnate, I won’t see you ever again and
—and even if you don’t, I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to go there anyway. I wouldn’t be
human anymore and it’s only for humans.”
He can feel his eyes watering and, gods, does Chuuya wish he could blame it on the rain. But
his clothes are dry, so is his hair and skin… though not for long.
“I can’t make everyone wait forever without knowing when, or even if, I’ll ever go there.”
Yosano told him once, that demons and spirits don’t get the same choice humans do. They are
reborn right away, without ever being allowed to search for their loved ones and… If he lets
it happen, will Chuuya really stay human anymore?
He won’t, will he?
A human cannot live past a certain age, that’s not how the world has it. It will change him
completely, depriving him of the last hope of seeing his family one last time.
…is this how Verlaine feels every day?
Is this how he’s felt for the last decades?
“I love Dazai and I want to stay with him forever, but—but I miss my dad.”
It’s been so long since the last time Chuuya got to hug him, or listen to his lullabies. It’s been
so long since the last time he got to see him, and memory is such a fleeting thing.
“A–and I want to see mum.”
She dies when Chuuya was just a baby, the redhead doesn’t even remember what she looked
like – he never did, for as long as his memory stretches. The only thing he knows is that she
was a good person, a kind one, and that she loved him.
Wherever she is, she must be waiting for him, too.

She must be waiting for the child she didn’t get to raise, the man she didn’t get to ever
witness him grow into. And a part of Chuuya can’t help but want it, too – he wants to meet
the person who brought him into this world.
Thank her.
Apologise to her.
Get to know her—
“I still need to apologise to Shirase.” Chuuya whispers. “I don’t want to lose Albatross, or
Lippmann, or anyone—I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you forever, either.”
He knows he’ll see Adam pass away at some point, the man is much older than him after all,
but… the thought that he would lose him forever is too much to bear.
“Chuuya…”
“I haven’t told Dazai yet.” There are now tears streaming down Chuuya’s face, drops of guilt
and sorrow he can’t hold back. “Because I’m scared.”
Not of what the kitsune would say, but of what he’d see in Dazai’s eyes.
Hope and pain.
Fear, perhaps.
And fear… it doesn’t suit Dazai at all.
“Because I know he wants me to stay and it will break him when I die. He deserves to be
happy and I want to give it to him but—”
If he tells him, will Dazai ask him to stay?
Or will he stay quiet, not letting his own hopes cloud Chuuya’s decision?
“—I just don’t know if I can.”
“Chuuya…” Verlaine’shand settles on his shoulder and the redhead doesn’t fight it, only
curling in on himself more.
“I want to stay but I don’t want to lose everyone again. I—I don’t want to be alone.”
Even if he would never be truly alone, no matter what. Dazai would always be there, together
with Verlaine and the Akutagawa siblings but—
It’s enough for now, but will it still be enough years from now? Or will Chuuya regret it if he
stays?
Even now, his dad’s face grows more blurred in his mind with each year, the memories of it
slowly fading away. Will he forget Adam, too, eventually?
Will he forget everyone’s faces once enough time passes?
The memories they shared?
…what it feels like to be human?
“...” Adam stays silent, looking from Chuuya’s curled up figure to Paul’s face, seeing the
same kind of pain in the man’s eyes that rings through the redhead’s voice.
It’s the kind of pain Adam will never be able to understand. The kind that extends past what a
human life has to offer and extends into eternity of another world past the one he walks on.
He’s seen it in Verlaine countless times, witnessed his friend being forced to come to terms
with the reality the two of them don’t share without being able to help him.
Humans are bound to shed tears over the life they aren’t allowed to keep—
But there are also cries that mourn the ending never to be written.
Tears that fall not over a farewell… but over a greeting stolen from them.
“What should I do?” The boy whispers, his voice broken.
But no answer comes. None can.
“Does it get easier?” He looks up, searching for Verlaine’s eyes in hopes of finding the same
wisdom they have always held before. “If I stay… Does it ever—”
Instead, what he finds in them is only the cruel truth.
“...no.” Paul tries to offer him a smile, a reassurance, he tries to make it not as painful as it
truly is but… “It doesn’t.”
Verlaine learnt it himself, having walked the earth for over two centuries.
Acceptance is something he had to learn, not something he chose to surrender to. The pain
never leaves, sticking to his mind every day and every night, numbing and cold and a
reminder of what he lost.
Of what was ripped from his arms, and of what will be taken away again.
It doesn’t have to be a lonely life, not for Chuuya, who has many people who care for him
almost as much as Verlaine does, but… Having the redhead stay here, with them, forever,
being allowed to never have to watch Chuuya leave the same way everyone else eventually
does—
For Verlaine, it would be a dream come true. A selfish wish of a tormented heart.
But for Chuuya… it could be many things.
A dream, yes, but also a

A mistake.
“It…” No matter how hard Verlaine tries, the right words simply don’t come. “It’s like I said
before: the pain never goes away, you just…” He takes a deep breath and the air in his lungs
seems to suffocate him. “...you learn to live with it.”
You don’t have a choice.
“You learn to accept it.”
“I—” Chuuya’s voice breaks over a choked sob. “But what if I can’t?”
Adam’s arm wraps around him, the man’s side pressed to Chuuya. “Kid…”
“They’re waiting for me, mum and dad and Shirase, I—I know it and…” Another shuddering
breath shakes Chuuya’s body, another tear reddens his cheek. “...I can’t lose them.”
He doesn’t want to.
“But if I don’t do anything, Dazai will—”
He’ll go through this pain instead. Alone. Even if Chuuya gives him his entire life—
For Dazai, it will only be a small fraction of his.
“I don’t want to hurt him. I—”
But he can’t have both, can he?
“I don’t want to choose!”
On the last word, Chuuya’s head falls forward, his face hidden in his arms and knees and his
shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. He feels small like this, hiding away from the world the
same way he tried to as a child. Only this time, it’s not so simple anymore.
He can’t take an adult’s hand and be guided back home.
Adam and Verlaine are already here, their arms wrapped around Chuuya’s body, and yet, the
path remains shrouded in darkness.
“I wish we could tell you what to do, Chuuya.” Adam’s hand rubs his back, and the redhead
squeezes his eyes tighter. “But I don’t think we can.”
Verlaine’s lips brush Chuuya’s forehead as the man speaks. “Not with this.”
Chuuya knows.
He knew it before.
But he hoped for a miracle, for one of them to prove him wrong.
“But whatever you choose, we will all love you. Your parents, your friend and Dazai, too.
That will never change.”
It’s a part of why the choice is so hard to make – because Chuuya knows it. He knows
everyone will understand and that no one is going to blame him for the choice he makes. He
knows some would tell him not to worry, while some would hide their tears behind broken
smiles without ever voicing out their sorrows.
It’s inside Chuuya that the true battle rages on, because, in the end, it all comes down to
whose heart he’s more willing to break:
Dazai’s, or his own?
Chapter End Notes
so...................................yeah
Selfish Not By Choice
Chapter Notes
It’s not until later that same day that Chuuya calms down again, his cheeks dry and his throat
sore. His uncles stay by his side the entire time – sometimes trying to distract Chuuya’s mind
with idle talk, sometimes letting their presence speak louder than any words ever could. And
it’s only when the boy’s stomach loudly reminds him how little he has been able to eat while
torn between the choices and guilt, that Verlaine, still somewhat unwilling to leave, excuses
himself to the kitchen to prepare lunch for them all.
This time, Adam doesn’t offer to help, choosing to wait with Chuuya and help in any way
possible. The world, however, seems to have different plans…
“Adam–san!”
A voice calls out from the distance only a few seconds before one of the younger men
studying under Adam’s wing approaches them, shielded from the rain by the umbrella in one
hand – a second, unopened one in the other. He bows before the older man and offers Chuuya
a polite nod and an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry to disturb you while your family is here but there’s a visitor for you at the gate.”
Adam’s brows climb higher, surprise clear on his face. “A visitor?”
A nod. “An elderly lady from the village downhill. She says you helped her with her
grandson’s illness last month.”
“Ah…” Realisation fills Adam’s eyes a heartbeat before a small frown wrinkles his
expression. “I remember that, but right now…” He glances at Chuuya, torn between different
types of duty.
“It’s okay.” The boy offers his uncle a weak smile. “She came all this way for you. You
should go see her.”
“Yeah.” Subtly enough so that the young man standing in front of them won’t notice, Chuuya
gestures with his head to where the Flags are sitting. “I’ll be fine.”
Adam may not see his friends where Chuuya can, but he understands nevertheless. He pats
the boy’s shoulder one more time, then stands up with a tired groan…
“I won’t be long.”
Without moving from his spot, Chuuya watches his uncle’s back as the man follows the
younger priest–in–training. Two hours ago, a sight like this could have felt lonely among the
turmoil of Chuuya’s own heart, but now…
Now, it brings him peace. A small spark of it but a spark nonetheless.
Because no matter how many times Chuuya is here to witness it, he can never feel grateful
enough to know Adam isn’t alone anymore. That there are people around him every day,
people who help him and seek his company, for whichever reason it may be. That—
“Someone is worrying about Adam again~” There’s no sound when Albatross drops on the
spot next to Chuuya, arms crossed behind his head as he smirks at the boy. “Aren’t you~?”
The rest of the Flags also shift where they stand and sit, moving closer to the redhead or
simply turning around to face him. Save for Iceman’s usul, stoic expression, they’re all
smiling at Chuuya – some with a smirk, like Albatross, and some more genuine, like
Lippmann, and all of them with a sadder feel behind it, one they try to hide.
“I’m not.” Chuuya huffs, leaning back in his arms.
Next to Lippmann, Doc giggles into his sleeve. “You’re always worrying about him, though,
Chuuya–kid.”
String Man lets out a sigh. “Just like he always worries about you.”
“Him and Paul both.” Iceman adds.
Rolling his eyes, Chuuya sniffles once more despite the smile on his lips. “Shut up.”
Lippmann chuckles. “Some things really do run in the family, I suppose.”
A few giggles follow the comment, accompanied by Iceman's approving hum and Chuuya’s
snort, but it's shortly lost in the rain’s rhythmic tapping as silence stretches among the ghosts.
Once more, it’s Albatross who speaks up first. His eyes look ahead, legs crossed in front of
him, and his voice carries an almost casual tone if not for the shadow it brings with it.
“So… a demon’s lifespan, huh?”
Some of them glance at Chuuya, some look away. The redhead’s legs, dangling from the edge
of the engawa, stop in their movements, the light of the boy’s smile dimming.
“Some surprise that was.”
“...yeah.” Taking a deep breath, the redhead leans forward and brings one leg to his chest, his
chin resting on his knee. “But I haven’t decided yet.”
Neither did Adam, or Verlaine, tell him what to do.
“Can’t say I blame you. A fucked up choice you’ve got there to make—”
“What he means to say is—” Lippmann cuts in, briefly glaring at Albatross before his gaze
softes as it travels to Chuuya. “That we’re sorry. We understand it’s difficult.”
“But that’s exactly what I said…” Albatross mumbles, which earns him another pointed glare
from Lippmann, and from Chuuya…
The boy snorts weakly, his gaze falling to the ground in front of him. “I know what you
meant.”
Another heartbeat of silence follows.
Another dry swallow Chuuya forces down his throat.
“Do you…” He starts, unsure of his own words. “Do you think one of them is better? The
choice.”
Iceman remains unmoving, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed, while the rest of
the Flags exchange silent looks. Eventually, it’s String Man that steps closer, crouching down
in front of the redhead.
“I don’t think either of them would be better than the other, Chuuya.”
“Both will make you happy.” Doc mutters. “And both will make you sad.”
“What if…” Chuuya bites his lip, his fingers fumbling with the hem of his kimono. “What if
I stay behind after I… you know, after I die? Like you?”
Looking from one face to another, the redhead searches his friends’ eyes for the reassurance
they can’t offer, the hope they don’t feel would be honest.
“Just… just to be with Dazai for a while longer?”
“Chuuya…” Lippmann looks like he wants to reach out to him, but the ghost stops himself
before he even tries. There’s no point in trying to break the barrier between their worlds—
There’s no point in reaching for something he can’t touch.
But it’s Albatross that follows the thought through, his voice losing its playful tone in place
of a bittersweet taste it leaves behind. “It’s not as easy as you think it is.”
When Chuuya turns his head to look at the ghost, Albatross shifts in his spot, bringing his
legs up to sit cross–legged and leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. The small
braid dangles from his shoulder, his smile somewhat tired and… grieving.
“Even if your husband will be able to see and hear you, you won’t be together anymore. Not
really.” He tilts his head, a melancholic look in his eyes. “You’ll never be able to feel each
other again.”
Chuuya’s throat is dry, his heart clenching at every word. “We… don’t have to…”
“At some point, you’ll feel like crying, Chuuya.” Lippmann says softly, his smile only a
shadow of what it was before. “And Dazai won’t be able to hold you, or help in any way.”
“And when he gets hurt…”Doc trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “You won’t be able
to help him, either.”
“Dazai will be thankful to have you with him.” Almost absentmindedly, String Man reaches
out and… his fingers pass through Chuuya’s kimono as if they weren’t there. “But a life like
that will slowly break you both.”
They speak of every fear Chuuya doesn’t want to acknowledge.
They know what it’s like better than anyone else, that’s why the redhead asked them about it.
Without being asked to, all five of them choose to stay behind for decades to come and not
one of them regrets that decision, however—
Not one of them would say it’s easy.
Not one of them can, because they can’t bring themselves to lie.
“But I’ll be there.” Chuuya whispers, though he isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince – the
Flags, or himself. “At least, he won’t be all alone—”
“It’s not making a choice.” Iceman suddenly speaks up and Chuuya’s glistening eyes travel
towards him, met with a sight of a long face staring somewhere past the rain. “It’s delaying
it.”
Another truth Chuuya wishes he could avoid.
As long as he doesn’t think about it too much, as long as he convinces himself that, even if he
stays for a while longer, dying is the same as making a choice—
As long as he does that, the sparkle of hope won’t fade.
Even if that hope itself was born of false seeds.
But deep down, in the part of himself that makes his fingers tighten around the material of his
clothes, Chuuya knows. Even if his physical body perishes one day, for as long as his soul
stays behind, the choice will remain to be made.
For as long as he can stay, be it with his body or without, Chuuya will hesitate.
He will continue to be torn apart by the choices he wasn’t brave enough to make, a fight
between desperate longing to see his family while at Dazai’s side and fearing to step out of
the world the kitsune walks on. Both equally possible, both equally as terrifying.
But then…
“...it’s the same for you, isn’t it?” The redhead whispers, each word breathed out with no
strength behind it. “How… how do you know who to pick?”
To cross over and follow Adam into where humans are meant to go, follow him into,
eventually, another life. Or to stay with Verlaine, who cannot walk with them anymore.
They can’t have both and they must know it.
“It’s… it’s not the same, Chuuya.” String Man looks away from the redhead, his shoulders
sagging.
“How? It’s—”
With one hand on String Man’s shoulder, Lippmann shakes his head. “Because we don’t have
to make that choice.”
“...why not?”
Once more, it’s Iceman’s voice that washes over Chuuya like a cold shower, bringing with it
a sting that cuts deep through the redhead’s heart.
“Because Paul has already made it for us.”
Chuuya’s lips part slightly, but no sound comes out.
“Adam is the one with grey hair but It’s Paul who was the one looking after all of us.”
Albatross chuckles at the memory. Then, with a quieter voice… “He wouldn’t forgive us if
we left Adam again.”
It’s so like Verlaine that Chuuya feels another sting in his chest.
“But he’ll—”
“Lose all of us that way?” Albatross finishes for him. “Yeah, he knows.”
“That’s how your uncle is, Chuuya.” Doc shrugs under the redhead’s gaze, his smirk
lightless. “From the beginning, he has always planned to let us go.”
Chuuya has no right to be saying this, he knows it’s just as hard for them as it is for Verlaine
and that it’s not fair to be saying this, but…
“You could try to fight him.” He mumbles. “He wouldn’t hate you for it.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” Iceman says. “But he would hate himself.”
Chuuya’s body freezes at these words, his eyes fluttering close on a deep, resigned sigh as he
imagines his uncle’s face – the guilt etched into it and the sorrows.
Verlaine never asks for anything for himself, not when those close to him and their happiness
are at stake. He’s watched Adam wait to finally meet his friends for decades while he can talk
to them whenever he wants, and he’s seen the Flags long to be there for Adam, while it’s only
Verlaine that gets to help the other man through the toughest of times.
Chuuya is sure that, in his mind, Verlaine thinks he’s been given enough and that it’s time he
offers all of it back to those who deserve it. Those who have been waiting for it.
It won’t be easy, but… neither is it now.
“You know…” Albatross runs a hand through his hair when Chuuya glances back at him.
“For a second there, I was relieved.”
The boy’s brows furrow. “Relieved?”
“When I thought you’d stay for sure.”
And it’s not just him. From the corner of his eye, Chuuya can see Lippmann and String Man
nod to themselves, Doc’s embarrassed gaze travelling away from them.
“Because it meant Paul wouldn’t be alone even after we’re gone.” He flashes Chuuya an
apologetic smirk. “Selfish, isn’t it? Sorry about that.”
“No, it’s…” This time, it’s the redhead who has to stop himself from trying to reach out to
Albatross. “It’s not selfish.”
If anything, it shows how much Albatross cares.
“Maybe, but…” Scratching the back of his neck, the ghost hesitates. “Can I tell you
something that is selfish? Like— really selfish.”
The rest of the Flags seem like they know what he’s going to say already, but Chuuya has no
way to be sure himself. So, he gives his friend a nod, waiting for whatever is to come and…
“A part of me doesn’t want you to choose to stay.”
Chuuya blinks, genuinely surprised.
Albatross is the first one of all of them to say it out loud, even his uncles never actually said
which choice they would prefer. There’s a reason for it, the redhead knows, and that’s why he
didn’t expect a confession like that to be spoken.
Not from Albatross.
Not from anyone, really.
“Is… really?”
The ghost shrugs. “We’ve known each other for years but I’ve never actually been here, and I
guess I just want a chance to, you know… experience it? Like—do you know I can ride a
horse?”
At that, Chuuya’s brows climb higher, while the ghosts around him chuckle at Albatross’
growingly excited voice.
“I’m also good at running away from the authorities, and fishing. I can last a long time while
sparring with Iceman, too, and—” As if remembering the place and the situation, Albatross
lowers his voice again, awkwardly smiling at Chuuya. “Sometimes, I wish I could maybe
teach you some of it. In person.”
That’s… something Chuuya would like, too.
He can almost imagine how impossibly annoying Albatross would be – he’d wake him up at
the ungodly hours just to spar, or ride somewhere far, wouldn’t he?
If only he could.
“...” A sad smile settles on Chuuya’s lips when he thinks about it. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
“Yeah? Good to know~” Albatross laughs awkwardly before his voice turns more genuine,
before it’s an apology threaded into his words that rings through the air. “But I also know it is
selfish, Chuuya. It’s not a request, so don’t think of it as one, okay?”
“We aren’t telling you what to do.” Lippmann says. “It’s okay for your feelings and ours to
part ways.”
Chuuya wishes they wouldn’t have to, though.
“I’m selfish, too, you know?” The redhead asks. There are no tears this time, but the despair
in his heart doesn’t let go. “Because I want it, all of it and… I want Dazai and uncle Paul to
be there, too.”
Doc shakes his head. “It doesn’t make you selfish, Chuuya—”
“It makes you human.”
Everyone’s eyes widen at the sound of those words, all six of them falling silent.
Chuuya turns around, his heart ringing in his ears, and… Verlaine is right there, standing in
the door with a trey in his hands. The man smiles at him, not a single glint of disappointment
in his eyes.
“Wishing for happiness is a part of being human, kid.” He says, sliding the door close and
coming to sit in the same spot as before, his every move followed by six pairs of eyes. “So is
cursing Fate, or trying to fight it.”
Verlaine’s words sink so impossible deep into Chuuay’s bones, the redhead can’t even feel
hunger anymore, even as the smell of a freshly cooked meal flows into his lungs. The boy
swallows the lump forming in his throat, his gaze trailing over the Flags before coming back
to his uncle.
“But it’s pointless. I… I can’t win with it.”
In the end, he can only surrender.

Verlaine takes a deep breath, his hand coming to stroke the back of Chuuya’s head. “Such is
life, kid. But it’s that struggle that makes a human life worth living until the end.”
“...”
The Flags look at each other, remembering the days they fought a similar battle to Chuuya’s –
a battle with Fate, not for the right to choose their path but… for the right to see another day.
“...I don’t like it.” The redhead mumbles.
“No one does.” Verlaine says, looking from Chuuya to the ghosts. “We don’t like it either.”
‘We’, not just him.
Because there is also Dazai and every demon friend Chuuya has ever made, everyone that
will have to move on one day… and it won’t be the first time for some of them, will it?
“But…” The corner of the man’s lips twitch, eyes glancing towards where the shrine’s gate
is, far from here. “...those of us who aren’t human, we never blame you for losing to Fate.”
The Flags all huff a small laugh at the comment in Adam’s stead.
“Maybe you should.” A spark of frustration lights up in Chuuya’s chest. “It’s not only our
happiness, it’s yours, too!”
“It is, but…” A sigh. “Grave loss, or loneliness in itself, is something those like me must
learn to accept.”
Chuuya bites his lip, his breathing stuttering.
Verlaine has gone through it before and he’ll have to experience it again. Dazai has lived a
life far from a perfect one, hollow darkness sticking to his side in place where Verlaine
carries his sorrows, and now he may fall back into that same emptiness once more.
A demon’s life is a lonely path full of thorns, no matter the choices one makes, and when it
crosses that of a human… the stench of blood grows only stronger and more suffocating.
“...you shouldn’t have to.” Iceman murmurs, his gaze glued to the ground.
‘It’s not fair,’ goes unspoken but not unheard.
Like this, Iceman looks so much like the rest of them – not unbothered by the conversation
but, despite how he tries to hide it, hurt by it. Like this, avoiding Verlaine’s gaze and
shielding himself from the world with his crossed arms, he looks so… young.
Because he was young, on the day he died.
They all were.

And ever since then, trapped in the mirages of lost youth, they could only watch what
growing up old looks like, never able to experience it for themselves. Never able to know
what it feels like to settle down, to find a purpose in life, to find their place in the world and
to make it their home.
They’ve been waiting and they will continue to wait for their promise to be fulfilled, and they
could stay even longer to watch over the one who has always watched over them, but…
There is so much they were never allowed to experience.
There is so much they long to learn and see and feel and… Taking the path to where they will
be able to try again, all of them, isn’t selfish, nor is it a sin.
It’s…
//It makes you human.//
…a reminder of who they were, and will continue to be.
Verlaine smiles, genuine and… sad with acceptance – cold ash from a flame long gone.
“We don’t have a choice.”
Once the day nears its end and Chuuya’s emotions calm down for the second time, the
redhead parts with his family and friends, and walks down the path leading from the shrine to
the village. It’s merely a pretence, an act he puts on for the eyes of everyone helping at the
shrine so as not to cause panic among Adam’s young mentees with a possible kitsune
sighting.
It also gives Chuuya a moment to himself, a breath to take alone as he eases the knots in his
chest. In the past, it would have been impossible for him to hide this part of his heart—
Or rather, it would have been impossible for Dazai not to feel it.
No matter how far away and no matter the promises about not eavesdropping on their
conversations, there used to be a time when the bond that connects their souls alone would
have been enough for the kitsune to feel every tear Chuuya sheds, enough to share every
sorrow and every doubt without needing to search for it. But that is not the case anymore.
The bond is there, a connection that ties their souls together in the most sacred and intimate
way, but it doesn’t carry the emotions they don’t wish to share anymore. It doesn’t betray
their secrets.
Most of the time, Chuuya finds it saddening to have lost that part.
But there are also moments such as this one now, when it makes life just a tad easier.
If Dazai can’t feel the depths of Chuuya’s doubts and troubles, he won’t ask about them and
if he doesn’t ask, Chuuya won’t have to work around the half–truths and hidden questions he
isn’t ready to share just yet.
A small advantage in a pitiful loss.
It’s only when Chuuya is far enough from the gate and the eyes of people who have no idea
about demons that he lets his thoughts sink into his heart and reach all the way to where
Dazai is waiting for him, focusing on letting the fox know it’s time.
It doesn’t work as fast as it once did and, if he’s being honest, Chuuya is more willing to
believe it’s the fact that he’s alone that drives Dazai to him, rather than the faint nudge of
their bond, but he likes to tell himself it’s not the case. He likes to think that, even if
weakened and thinned, the bond between their souls will continue to carry the words and
emotions they wish so desperately to convey.
He may be wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time, but—
“Chibi took a long time.”
It only takes a few seconds for Dazai to appear among the trees guarding the mountain trail,
right here and not anywhere else, right after Chuuya has called for him.
White fur seems to whine in the last rays of the day, lighting up the shadows cast by the
forest. Dazai’s tails are unmoving behind him as the kitsune leans his side on one of the trees,
waiting for Chuuya to step closer, instead of him risking being seen.
A lazy smile climbs its way to the redhead’s lips at the sound of his voice, but when he turns
his head towards Dazai, the kitsune furrows his brows slightly, pushing away from the tree
without hesitation.
“What’s wrong?”
He meets Chuuya halfway, near the edge of the trees’ line. His hand comes up to the boy’s
cheek and his thumb brushes the skin right under his eye, a single red eye growing darker
with concern the longer Dazai studies his face.
Humming quietly, the redhead leans into the touch with a soft sigh. “Nothing’s wrong.”
But it’s not enough to chase Dazai’s worry away, not when the fox’s eye can see the marks of
the last few hours on Chuuya’s face.
“You’ve been crying.”
His face must still be red from the tears, eyes not as clear as the kitsune is used to. It makes
Chuuya wonder – can Dazai smell the leftover misery on him, or is it only the salt of his tears
that the fox can pick up on?
Shaking his head, the boy rolls his eyes weakly. He knows denying it would bring him
nothing but more questions, and so… “Uncle Adam and uncle Paul were talking about my
childhood again and it made me a bit emotional.”
They truly did, before.
It’s only half a lie—
“Nothing to worry about.”
—and it’s precisely because there is a spark of truth to it that Dazai believes him, adding a
single sting of guilt to Chuuya’s growing library of moments to apologise for one day.
Concern doesn’t disappear completely from the fox’s features, but it does melt into
understanding and faint relief after only a short moment of hesitation, of searching for
something more.
Is it also because Dazai doesn’t wish to awaken the anger sleeping inside of Chuuya by
staying persistent when the boy doesn’t wish so? Perhaps.
But if there are doubts in his heart, the kitsune keeps them to himself. For now.
He’ll ask again when the reddened skin fades into a more healthy shade and when the sniffles
stop interrupting his husband’s words. He’ll ask again when Chuuya is calmer, after he will
have rested.
For now, though, Dazai leans closer, tilting his head to the side. Instinctively, Chuuya’s eyes
flutter close, but what comes next isn’t what he expects. It’s not a kiss on the lips but, instead,
Dazai’s lips brush the reddened skin around the corners of his eye.
Delicate and soothing.
A balm on Chuuya’s body and soul, an apology that Dazai doesn’t realise he’s giving, for the
trouble he knows nothing of.
The redhead’s eyes blink open at the unexpected touch. The tips of dark locks tickle his skin
and when the kitsune leans back again…
“Wha—”
It’s only for a brief moment that Chuuya can see his smile before the lips return, this time to
his forehead.
“I still wish you wouldn’t need to cry when I’m not there.” The fox says. “Or that you would
let me know so I can come to you.”
Blue flames steal the forest around them at the same time the words slip from his lips, and the
next time Chuuya blinks – he’s home.
When Dazai leans back for good, his ears are happily straightened, one of his tails lingering
on Chuuya’s back. Light catches on his white fur before disappearing among the dark locks
and his smile holds so much warmth, it makes the boy’s chest clench.
He loves this sight. So much.
He loves how Dazai makes him feel at ease, never alone but at the same time not trapped, and
he hates how there’s a secret between them, even if he knows it’s for the best. That’s it
necessary, whatever the outcome will turn out to be.
The boy huffs, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side to mask his feelings. “So I
can cry only when it’s with you?”
“Exactly~”
There’s an amused hint in his voice and in the way the corner of Dazai’s lips twitches, but
Chuuya chooses to ignore it for the time being.
“How so?” Quickly, he adds… “Pick your words carefully, fox.”
A long, teasing hum fills the air when the kitsune pretends to consider Chuuya’s words and
the redhead is almost sure he’ll go for a joke again. The opportunity is right there, basically
handed to him on a plate, and Dazai isn’t known for letting a chance slip by, but… he does.
This time around.
Instead of a tease that must have crossed his mind, the words flow out straight from Dazai's
heart.
“Because I want to be there to brush Chuuya’s tears away.” He says, voice soft, and Chuuya’s
breath stutters. “Isn’t it obvious?”
It is.
It was.
It should be—
And, yet, Chuuya can’t help but wonder how far Dazai’s promise would go. There isn’t a
single reason for the boy to doubt him, not anymore. Whenever it becomes too much and the
tears won’t stop, Dazai is always there when Chuuya needs him to.
When he lets him be there to see him at his lowest.

There were countless nights the kitsune had stayed awake to wipe the tears born out of
dreamless unrest or violent nightmares. There were countless days he had offered not a word
of comfort, but a shoulder to soak Chuuya’s tears. It’s in Dazai embrace that so much of
Chuuya’s despair had been born and erased, and yet—
“What if you get tired of it?”
—yet, if Chuuya were to spend an eternity with the streams of tears of no end, would Dazai
remain patient still, without seeing his smile for so long?
“I won’t.” The kitsune answers, not a single note of doubts in his voice.
Wetting his lips, Chuuya considers his next words. “What if… it wouldn’t be enough?”
What if Chuuya’s sorrows would be too great to chase away, even for Dazai? Too deep–
rooted in the side of him the kitsune won’t understand, no matter the sympathy?
The question, or maybe it’s the faint hesitation in Chuuya’s voice, brings a more surprised
look to Dazai’s face. The fox blinks, one ear turned to the side with suspicion, but he offers
an answer nevertheless.
“I would still try.”
The boy swallows. “And if it fails?”
“Then I’ll try again.” Dazai answers without losing a beat.
“...don’t you think that’s something to grow tired of eventually?”
At that, the fox’s smile turns more honest, his fingers featherlight as they map a trail from
Chuuya’s cheek to his neck.
“I do prefer it when my husband smiles and doesn’t let the world’s worries get to him, but
even if that would no longer be possible…”
Maybe it’s a response to Chuuya’s troubled questions that Dazai’s voice rings with a more
serious tone now. Maybe it’s only the boy’s imagination, or maybe it’s because of the
memory he speaks of—
Whatever it is, it fills Chuuya with too many emotions to keep hold of.
Joy and fear.
Relief and guilt.
Regret.
Frustration.
Thankfulness.
Hope—
“I promised to love you forever no matter what, didn’t I?”
Because he did.
Knowing that they couldn’t have forever, knowing that he would lose the happiness he held
so dear – Dazai still made a promise, an oath, that would bind him until the end of time.
Ever since the beginning, it has always been Chuuya who had doubts, who had fears that
come with being human. Dazai, on the other hand, has always been the one to soothe those
fears and promise everything the redhead would ask for without asking for much, if anything
at all, in return.
He offered his future, even if Chuuya would only be there for a small part of it.
His love, even if it would end in mortal tragedy.
Himself—
//We don’t have a choice.//
What Dazai promised Chuuya all those lost years ago, was more than the redhead had ever
thought he would be able to give back, and now that the opportunity to do so is right in front
of him…
//I don’t want to choose!//
Instead of an answer, or any more words that may betray what hides in Chuuya’s heart, the
redhead smiles, more grateful than the fox can imagine, and pulls Dazai down into a proper
kiss.
There were many promises they made to each other.
Some of them were broken under Fate’s fingers, some were kept.
And some…
“Come on, I need a bath.”
Some are soon to be made.
(For better or worse.)

Chapter End Notes
Aaaand in the next chapter, we will know the answer :')

You Will, Eventually
Chapter Notes
Quick note: the main part of this chapters happens 1 year after the previous one, so 2
years after Chuuya woke up :3
Twelve months.
Adam told him it’s only Chuuya’s happiness that he wishes for. The Flags told him their
‘selfish’ hopes of living a life with Chuuya, of being his friends in spirit and in flesh. Verlaine
kept his own wish away, never giving the redhead more than what the bare truth holds.
They all helped him when he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore and they all made it
impossible to choose, because no right advice can come for a choice that can never be right in
itself.
And so, for yet another year, Chuuya can’t find his answer.
He stumbles over his choices before he even has the courage to make them. The days he
shares with Dazai, every quiet moment of subtle touches and feelings that run deeper than
any promises… It makes unspoken words bloom in Chuuya’s throat, fighting to get out of
their confinement, but before they find their way out into the world, the faces flashing before
the boy’s eyes steal away his strength. The words and promises fade away into a secret buried
deep within Chuuya’s heart.
Sometimes, it paints the redhead’s days quiet. Other times, it brings anger into his life.
Happiness he and Dazai have built for themselves is threaded with silent days, with fights
that, while not actually serious, fuel Chuuya’s frustration to the point of feeling something
inside of him stirring.
It never lasts, no matter the outbursts that sometimes rock his mind.
He and Dazai always find their way back to each other, no matter the lines crossed in the heat
of the moment.
And then, once four seasons come to pass, June settles around the world again and with it…
“There you are.”

When the voice calls out to him unexpectedly, Chuuya flinches on instinct, blinking away the
fog from his eyes and mind. He looks toward the now open doors, tilting his head back until
it hits the wooden panels behind him as he meets Dazai’s questioning gaze.
“So it seems.” He says back, a lazy smile on his lips. “I wasn’t hiding, though.”
The kitsune hums, slowly coming closer as his gaze travels over the empty room before
looking back at Chuuya. “You weren’t trying to, or did you know it wouldn’t work anyway?”
Chuuya clicks his tongue but doesn’t move away when the fox sits down on the floor next to
him. “I would say the former but now you’re making me annoyed.”
“Oh, am I~?”
But the fox doesn’t follow the tease any further, content with the small roll of eyes Chuuya
offers him for it. There’s no real anger in the boy’s face, no actual accusation in his voice –
only their usual banter, laced with fondness that never weakens.
“Does Chibi care to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks instead, one tail falling over Chuuya’s
outstretched legs and his ears straightened up.
“Does the stupid fox care to tell me why he thinks something is wrong this time?”
“Well…” Dazai smirks, smugness dripping from his words. “It’s not every day that you hide
in here, little human.”
Here, as in—
Chuuya’s old room.
The floor he couldn’t stand up from on his own for several days, years ago. The four walls
that have watched him grow comfortable in a demon’s den, then miserable with life itself. It’s
been empty for a long time now, dust collecting on the floor again even though Chuuya
makes sure to clean the house with the Akutagawa siblings every few weeks. It’s Chuuya’s
small comfort place, where memories of the past tangle with the worries of the present, much
like…
“I wasn’t hiding.” He huffs, both hands resting on top of Dazai’s tail over his lap. “You’re
getting not only the wrong conclusion but also the wrong reasoning behind it.”
Faint amusement colours Dazai’s eye, his lips curling at the corners. “Ah, so everything’s
perfectly fine, then?”
A nod.
“And nothing is bothering my husband? Nothing at all?”
“Exactly that.”
Dazai wets his lips. “Chuuya.”

“Hm?”
“You’re wearing your kimono on the wrong side.”
…shit.
Looking down at himself, Chuuya lets out a groan when he realises Dazai is right and, at the
same time, that the kitsune has waited the whole day to inform him of this small detail.
“Stop looking so proud of yourself.” The boy mutters, picking at the white fur in retaliation.
“And stop laughing!”
The fox’s shoulders shake slightly one a small chuckle. “Me? Laughing? Never.”
“Dazai!”
“So?” Once calm again, Dazai’s voice softens into a more curious, rather than teasing, tone.
“Care to share or…?”
‘Or am I still not allowed to ask?’ goes unsaid but Chuuya hears it all too clearly in his heart,
guilt picking at his insides again.
“It’s not…” A sigh. “I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
Everything and nothing at all.
“You. Me. About why I’m here.”
Dazai’s brow furrows, his tails stirring. “Because we’re married and you—”
“No, no—not that.” Stroking Dazai’s tails, Chuuya offers the fox a smile – somehow
calming, somehow apologetic, somehow amused about the direction Dazai’s thoughts took,
though not surprised. “I’m thinking about how I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t pissed off those
assholes back then.”
A single flash of anger lights up in Dazai’s eye at the memory, but it fades just as quickly.
“Ah.”
“Or if you hadn’t helped me.”
Both options would end in a life much shorter than what Chuuya is now living, but perhaps
less painful and confusing. Still, he can’t help but feel relieved that neither of them came to
be, no matter the troubles this path has put in front of him.
“And what made you think back to that?” Dazai asks, head tilted to the side.
The boy hides his thoughts behind a shrug. “Nostalgia?”
“...nostalgia for getting shot with an arrow?”

“Ugh, you know what? Nevermind.” Pushing Dazai’s tails away, the redhead stands up from
the floor, an irritated twist curling his lips. “I’m getting changed.”
He walks past Dazai with eyes stubbornly looking away from the kitsune when a hand wraps
around his wrist, stopping Chuuya in his tracks.
“You’re not coming with me—”
“You’d be here.” Dazai says, looking up at the redhead with an unwavering eye. “No matter
what would or wouldn’t have happened back then, I would still try to bring you here
somehow.”
His words leave Chuuya speechless, throat dry as he takes all of it in. He isn't sure if Dazai is
saying that because he can feel the cry for help screaming from within Chuuya’s heart, or
because of what the boy has just said, but it doesn’t change the meaning of the confession.
“...how?”
Dazai’s expression turns almost awkward. Almost. “I’m a kitsune, tricking humans is what
we do.”
Well, that’s fair. But…
“...why?”
Even if Dazai was curious about why Chuuya could see his spells, the boy used to live just by
the forest, it would be simple to watch him from afar without bothering to expose himself.
Dazai’s hold around Chuuya’s wrists loosens, fingers sliding down to hold onto his hand,
brushing the inside of his palm gently. “I won’t pretend it was love, or anything remotely
similar, because it wasn’t. Not back then. But I was curious about you and…”
Chuuya swallows dry, his heart loud in his ears. “And?”
“And I thought maybe there was a reason as to why you were here and not anywhere else.”
Then, the kitsune stands up, letting go of Chuuya’s hand and hiding his arms in the sleeves of
his kimono. His gaze is honest, baring out the truths of the unspoken past to Chuuya, and his
smile is that of silent appreciation, of thankfulness not directed at anyone in particular.
“Very few things happen without one. At least in our world.”
Right.
Fate.
The mastermind behind it all and the bitch.
“Dropping everything to chase after a human?” Chuuya teases, forcing his voice not to sound
as weak as he feels. “Not the wisest choice for a kitsune.”
“Perhaps not.” Dazai chuckles. “But I’d do it anyway.”
With one of his tails, he pushes Chuuya through the door and follows right after.
“It has always been an easy choice for me.”
…it really has, hasn’t it?
Not the consequences of it, they never are, not that the fox could have imagined back then
just how chaotic and complicated their intertwined lives would get. But the choice – Dazai’s
choice – was made without so much as a blink of hesitation, both when he saved Chuuya and
when he married him.
When he saved him.
When he stayed with him.
When he trusted him.
And now…
Now, the choice, so similar yet different all the same, is for Chuuya to make.
//Nothing is wrong, I just need some space for myself right now. Just… for a bit.//
“...is what he said.”
Kouyou’s brows climb slightly higher as she watches the kitsune sitting under one of her
trees from behind her fan.
“That is peculiar, indeed.” The spirit agrees. “Though I must admit you being here is also
quite an interesting turn of events.” When one of Dazai’s ears flickers, annoyed, Kouyou
speaks before the fox can offer any comments. “Giving your husband space is
understandable, but I would have thought you’d go to your friends to wait it out, not come
here.”
The corner of Dazai’s lips twitches, his fangs flashing in a dejected smirk. “I did.”
And, yet, he’s here now.
Which means this isn’t purely about killing time away while Chuuya takes his time to
breathe, but about something else. About something Oda and Ango can’t help him with, and
there aren’t many of such troubles. Oda is a god and Ango has been a guardian spirit for a
long time already, they have many answers than demons and regular spirits cannot possess.
There are only two matters that Dazai tends to seek Kouyou’s help over anyone else’s, even
Oda’s. One involves Death, to a varying capacity, but everything has been peaceful for the
last years and there is no reason for him to meddle with its affairs anymore. Which leaves…
Chuuya.
Or more precisely – feelings. Human feelings.
Something the kitsune, despite the years spent by his husband’s side, is yet to master.
Two petals–figures fly closer to them, each with a small tray and carefully served tea on it –
one for Dazai and one for Kouyou. With a small nod, the woman sends the two figures away
once the trays are placed down. Then, her gaze comes back to the fox.
“So? Did you do something again?”
“How rude of you to assume such a thing right away, lethal flower.”
“It’s a fair guess.” The woman answers without hesitation, folding her fan and putting it back
among the folds of the kimono. “All things considered.” And they both know it.
“Well, I didn’t.” Dazai argues, arms still crossed over his chest.
“Or you just don’t know about it yet.”
When instead of an answer the only reaction Kouyou gets is a red flash from within a dark
eye, the spirit chuckles to herself. She takes the cup from the tray, unbothered by the cold
glare…
“But I must say, it is quite amusing.” Even if her lips don’t show it, the smirk resonates
through her voice. “To see you being chased out of your own house.”
Another flash of red. “It’s Chuuya’s house, too.”
“Ah, my apologies.” Though she doesn’t sound apologetic. “Nevertheless, it’s amusing to
witness.”
“Is that all you have to say to me, lethal flower?”
“Are you asking me whether I noticed the little frowns your husband has been trying to hide
for the past two years, or not? If so, I did. But there isn't any more to mention if you aren’t
willing to talk, fox.”
“...”
Dazai eyes her for a long moment, his fingers digging more into his arms as he fights the
comments he wants to say but knows would be pointless.
“I didn’t do anything; that, I am sure of.” Probably. Most likely. It doesn’t seem like his fault.
“But I can’t see any other reason for it.”
“And did you ask Chuuya about it?”
“I did.”
There’s a clear ‘for once’ written all over Kouyou’s face but the spirit doesn’t voice the
thought she wears so confidently. She doesn’t need to say it for Dazai to know.
“I offered to help but he declined.” Another twitch of his lips. “Every time.”
A hum. “Your friends told you to wait and let him be, I presume? That’s why you came
here.”
“...”
“Did you think I would tell you any differently?”
When one of Dazai’s tails stirs, the spirit lets out a sigh. “If you’re going to stay here for a
while, you might as well drink the tea. I didn’t poison it.”
Dazai eyes the tea served before him with a somewhat reluctant expression but, in the end, he
doesn’t fight the hospitality Kouyou offers him. He takes a sip, feeling himself relax when
the warm liquid spreads through his body, and it’s only once Kouyou sees tension leave the
fox’s muscles, that she decides to ask…
“Do you know how long a human ‘a bit’ is, by any chance?”
She doesn’t mind Dazia being here if it’s for Chuuya, but she can’t say she was expecting the
visit. Especially not on—
The kitsune sighs, watching his reflection on the tes’s surface.
“...he said I would know when to go back.”
Alone in the garden, Chuuya stands among the flowers he planted here himself.
This place has seen so much, so many important moments of their life. It’s here that Dazai
once asked Chuuya if he’d wait for spring with him. It’s here that the walls of their
stubbornness crumbled down under the feelings they were both suppressing for the longest
time.
It’s here that they married.

It’s here that Chuuya was captured by a mad dragon, once upon a time.
And it will be here that picks a path that he will follow.
The sakura tree has already lost its flowers months ago, leaving behind a crown of green that
showers Chuuya with the light shining through the dancing leaves. It’s warm under the
redhead’s palm, perfectly still but with life resonating through every fibre of it. Is it because
the tree was born out of a spell, or is it merely Chuuya’s imagination?
Or is it because it’s something special to him?
Even if the redhead can’t fully grasp the rules and powers flowing through the spell that birth
the tree under his fingertips, he knows there’s power in it. Wisdom beyond human
understanding, rooted in a world different from this one.
It was the tree that once showed Dazai the path that the kitsune’s heart wanted to take,
unveiling what he most desired deep within, and it makes Chuuya jealous of the fox – why
can’t it do the same for him? Why can’t it help him pick one love over another?
The thought of it makes Chuuya’s hand clench into a fist, frustration bubbling in his chest,
and it’s ridiculous. What good will getting angry at a tree do for him? Not to mention the fact
that…
The tree, or rather the spell within it, only showed Dazai his own desires, didn’t it?
The first step towards it the kitsune had to take on his own.
Even if it were to do the same for Chuuya, who’s to say he’d find the courage to follow it?
The world hates him, really. After all the trials and suffering it has put him through, the least
it could do is take away the burden of choosing from his shoulders. Just this once. If
everything truly happens for a reason, why bother with making him pick?
Why bother with giving him a choice?
Chuuya lets out a sigh, growing more and more annoyed with his situation and with himself.
He told Dazai to give him some space today because he thought it would help, that after two
years he’d finally be able to decide on the final answer. Undisturbed by anyone, left to take as
much time as he needs—
But is it even working?
Isn’t he just going in the same circles he’s been stuck in for the past year?
Because it feels like that, and Chuuya is hanging on the last thread of sanity keeping him
from punching the tree in front of him solely to let it all out.
Maybe he should do it.
Maybe it’ll feel better if he does it.

But the more the redhead thinks about it, the less he actually wants to fight and the more he
wants to just scream. And so, he does.
With both his fists and his forehead pressed to the tree, Chuuya squeezes his eyes shut and his
teeth grit, a rumble growing stronger in his throat. When the scream – a sound somewhere
between a pained cry and a raging roar – leaves his mouth, the echo of it rings for a long time
in Chuuya’s ears.
Without thinking about it, he ends up hitting the tree on another scream.
Then again.
And again.
And again—
Until, once his voice turns rasp, only silence follows.
Blue eyes creak open, staring blindly at the ground around Chuuya’s feet. Then, the boy leans
back, taking deep breaths to ease his mind and… something colourful dances in the corner of
Chuuya’s eye, catching his attention.
It’s not the flowers, it’s too high up for that. When the boy turns towards it, his mind still
wrecked by the outburst and the emotions that didn’t die with it, he can’t stop the overflowing
warmth that settles in his body, easing the pain.
It’s a smaller tree than the sakura one, with a dozen peaches hanging from its branches.
His first birthday gift for Dazai.
The memory of it tugs at Chuuya’s lips until a smile replaces the grimace. He felt so happy
back then, and embarrassed, too. Because no matter how fond of him Kouyou may be,
favours from her come at a price that is not one of physical value, but that of Chuuya’s sanity
– or the ability to look Kouyou in the eyes, really.
But, in the end, Chuuya remembers it was worth it.
Slowly, he steps closer to the tree, admiring how it’s grown in the past six years and how
healthy it has stayed, despite the fox abandoning it for the four years he had stayed in Mori’s
palace. Dazai said it was his first ever birthday gift and it only made the redhead’s resolve to
give him more of them that much stronger, but…
He couldn’t do that when he was asleep.
And if he’s gone… Will there be anyone left to celebrate Dazai’s birthday in the same way?
Or will the kitsune forget anyone ever did it for him?
Chuuya knows demons don’t celebrate their birthdays, he knows they don’t consider them of
any importance, but… No matter how he felt before, Dazai has already begun to grow fond
of it, always looking at Chuuya expectantly when that time of the year comes around. And if
he were to lose it, to make it into a painful reminder rather than an occasion to celebrate…
Such a sad sight it would be.
It breaks Chuuya’s heart to even think about it.
He doesn’t care if demons don’t need birthdays, or even if they don’t really have them – he
doesn’t want Dazai to go back to that lonely life. He doesn’t want him to lose the light in his
eyes, lose himself, and those people close to him that he has gained.
Not the smiles.
Not the hope—
…rustle…
A small, white–pink flower lazily falls down in the wind in front of Chuuya’s widening eyes,
a sakura flower, and when the redhead blinks—
It’s dark all around him.
His heart almost halts in his chest, because Chuuya doesn’t recognise this place, this
darkness… until he remembers. The time that he has forgotten, the conversation that was left
unfinished and…
“So you’re back.”
And the him that was left waiting.
Chuuya blinks, looking down at… himself, sitting on the non–existent ground. Despite
remembering, surprise is the first thing the redhead feels flooding his chest, because he didn’t
try to go back and yet—
His shoulders relax, a small smile on his lips. “I am.”
—and yet, his heart chose it for him.
“I guess you lost that bet, huh?”
His other self tilts his head, the golden threads that connect their bodies shining through the
cold nothingness between them.
“You don’t seem convinced about it, though.”
Well… because he isn't. Not really. But he’s here and… somehow, despite the heartache that
slowly makes him long for a certain kitsune’s soothing touch while his old, younger self
breaks down in the corner of his mind, calling out for the parents that can’t hear it – it feels
right.
Instead of offering any answer to that, Chuuya asks a question of his own. “You knew about
it, didn’t you?”
The red markings under the other boy’s skin seem to slow down in their endless trails.
“I did.”
“How?”
How did he know about the possibility, the choices, before Chuuya even woke up to be there
to hear it when Mori told him?
“Strength isn’t the only thing that comes with acceptance. Knowledge does, too.”
Stepping closer, Chuuya narrows his eyes, confused. “Why didn’t you use it to convince me
before, then?”
Once, the two of them fought. His other self fought for destruction, for power, and Chuuya
struggled for freedom. Neither won but… if the knowledge could tip the balance once the
threat of destruction was gone, why not use it?
As he stops in front of his other self, the redhead sees him smile at him.
“I’m still you. I wouldn’t want us to do something we’d regret.”
Even if Chuuya can’t quite grasp it, the honesty behind these words makes him calmer. Less
afraid. He extends his hand towards his other self that is still sitting on the ground and…
“I hope you know how to do it because I sure as hell don’t.”
Mori didn’t quite elaborate on that part and Chuuya has never found himself brave enough to
ask about it, either. Not until now that he needs it, of course.
For the first time, Chuuya hears the other him chuckle. His palm burns when he touches it
but, somehow, it doesn’t hurt. The sensation is there but it’s different – a fire that welcomes
him instead of punishing the redhead for reaching out to it.
“There isn’t much to be done, really. Not yet.”
“...not yet?”
“Accepting it is easy.”
The boy says it casually, standing up to his feet until they’re face to face, a smirk stretching
under a pair of eyes that lose their azure shine for a long moment of white emptiness.
“Taming it, however, is anything but that.”

…right.
The powers Chuuya remembers seeping into his blood and bones were violent. A beast in and
of its own, answering to no one. Back then, he was told to keep it sealed in order to survive
and now he’s extending his hand to it, welcoming the fire and the shadows into his soul.
“...but you already did it.”
And they’re supposed to be the same person, right? Shouldn’t it come with everything
being… done already?
Another chuckle, openly amused by the question.
“So will you, eventually.”
“...”
They stand like that – two men, two reflections, connected by the golden threads and by their
hands. One with tiredness creeping under his skin and the other one with ancient crimson
flowing underneath it.
Both waiting.
Both uncertain.
And yet—
“I didn’t think you’d come back, you know? Because I don’t love him the way you do.”
Chuuya smiles at him. “But you will, eventually.”
—both ready.
In the end, Chuuya’s hidden self was right.
It doesn’t take much.
When the last flames of Arahabaki’s essence flow into his soul, mixing with the very core of
Chuuya’s being, it’s like taking the first breath after staying underwater for far too long. Like
seeing light for the first time after a long night, blinding but welcome.
It’s familiar, fire flowing into his veins and tickling Chuuya’s skin from the inside, but…
there’s no pain. He can feel where the red claws tease his body but it’s gone the moment
Chuuya’s eyes open to see the garden again.
And… something is different now.
The colours are more vibrant, the scents stronger as they fill his lungs. The sounds of the
forest ring more clearly in his ears, even the distant ones, making the redhead breathe out a
laugh to himself and—
Chuuya doesn’t understand how but he knows it the moment the kitsune comes back even
before he hears his voice. He can feel it in his heart, in the heating up air and the quiet sound
of fire sparkling through the air, all the signs he has never experienced before.
“Chuuya…?”
When he turns around, Dazai is there – silent and unmoving. His eye is wide as he stares at
Chuuya in disbelief, lips slightly parted. His ears are lowered over the dark hair blowing in
the gentle breeze, tails hesitant behind his back.
Dazai can sense it.
He knows it—
With a somewhat shy smile, Chuuya shrugs under the kitsune’s gaze. “...happy birthday?”
(A drop falls from the clear sky.)
Dazai doesn’t say anything, the redhead isn’t even sure if the fox is breathing right now. He
expected this, expected Dazai to be surprised, because who wouldn’t be surprised about
something like this?
(And another one.)
But he also expected the kitsune to… do the same thing he always did in the past. To
overcome the surprise and let his emotions burst around them, sweeping the redhead from his
feet, or kissing him until Chuuya’s legs give out under him.
But Dazai doesn’t do any of that. Not this time.
Instead, the kitsune takes a step forward, so slowly it looks as if he’s… afraid.
(And another one.)
But then he takes another step, just as hesitantly, and another one… And then he’s right in
front of Chuuya. So close but from a distance of a breath, of the gap too terrifyingly fragile to
cross, lest it shatter under his fingertips.
“Dazai?”
The kitsune’s hand hovers over his cheek, never meeting the boy’s skin. As if he’s afraid to
touch it, afraid it would break the illusion. He’s afraid of waking up from a dream.
(Droplets fall all around them, shining with the light they hold within.)
“...Osamu?”
(Just like on a day six years ago.)

When Dazai’s hand finally meets Chuuya’s skin, there’s a slight tremble to it. The kitsune’s
eye widens even more, a shuddering breath slipping past his lips and everything in his
features seem to come alive, except—
“Osamu?!”
Without ever letting go of Chuuya, Dazai slowly falls to his knees. His breathing is heavy, his
eye seems lost as he stares into Chuuya’s soul. But then, his hand slides from the boy’s cheek
and down his arm, his other hand coming around Chuuya’s waist.
Hidden from the redhead’s eyes, Dazai rests his head against Chuuya’s stomach, his entire
body trembling and his words barely above breaths.
“It’s real.”
It’s softer than a whisper, but Chuuya hears every note of it.
His heart hammers in his chest when his hand settles over Dazai’s head, fingers tangled in
dark locks. “Yeah.” He can feel his eyes water. “It is.”
Is he crying from happiness? Or from grief, mourning the people he’ll come to lose?
Are those even his tears, or is it the rain on his cheeks?
The kitsune only hugs him tighter, desperate not to let go and instead keep Chuuya here.
Desperate to understand the meaning of that one, simple confession. To believe it.
All that’s a mortal treasure shall be lost – a rule old as Life itself, binding every demon’s
existence to the constant fear of loss, the constant searching not for happiness, but for the life
that will be worth remembering. Worth mourning .
Not once did Dazai allow himself to accept Chuuya’s looming death, but at the same time…
Not once did he allow himself to ask for more than a breath of fleeting days.
A short human life to remember for centuries once it slips from his grasp.
And now, with the dream he has never dared to dream in his arms, Dazai doesn’t know if he
can believe its promise. If he can allow himself to trust the dream to come true before his
eyes so easily but—
“I love you.”
—but he wants to.
Because his love for Chuuya is the only string in his heart that still knows how to play. The
only part of him that feels warm along the cold cracks.
Arms wrap around his head when the boy bends down, holding onto the fox almost as
desperately as Dazai holds him. “I know.”
Because they’re the same.
Dazai loves Chuuya more than the kitsune loves himself, willing to spend an eternity without
allowing anyone to be close to him ever again, and Chuuya loves Dazai the same way.
Despite the uncertainties and doubts, despite the tears shed and those yet to come—
The answer has always been only one.
Much like Dazai’s love blooms only for him, Chuuya cherishes the kitsune’s heart more than
he cares for his own.
“I love you too.” He whispers back into the rain. “So much.”
(And yet…)
Even if it hurts sometimes.
Even if it will come at a price.
Even if there may come a time when Chuuya loses sight of himself, lost in the labyrinth of
grief and sorrow caging him from the warmth of day.
Because no matter what happens, he knows Dazai will be there for him, with him.
Just like he is now, in the garden that has seen it all and will see even more in the eternity that
is yet to come.
(...and yet, a voice calls out from within his soul. A feeling that is no longer distant but
muffles what Chuuya has known for so long instead. It’s not a threat, not a demand, it’s… an
indifferent note.
It’s too quiet to overshadow the storm of joy and grief and love that is raging inside the
redhead’s chest with the intensity of a lifetime of struggles, but… it’s there.
Never growing louder.
Never growing quieter, either.
Because it may not be strong enough to fight with the flame of a new promise, nor does it
wish to, but it does and it will persist. Because now that they’re one and the same, its call is
no less important than any other emotion making up who Chuuya is.
Who he shall be and who he shall love.
…or who to not.)
//I didn’t think you’d come back, you know? Because I don’t love him the way you do.//
Chapter End Notes
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
1) don't worry, it won't be the amnesia type of trope

2) I know I said it before BUT I updated the FINAL final chapter count (I sat down
today and divided the thread AND the additional scenes into chapters, no more changing
it, so 90 it is)
3) yes, the alternative ending where Chuuya chooses humanity/to die WILL happen, I
actually ahve most of it written already, but it'll be posted separately after this story ends
4) and now...
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
A New Beginning
Chapter Notes
The next few hours – or maybe days, he can’t tell – go by in a haze for Chuuya.
His mind and senses are overwhelmed by all the changes his soul continues to go through and
all the sensations coming to him from all around. Brighter colours hurt his eyes and stronger
scents fog his mind, every touch leaves a more acute tingle behind and, yet, it feels like his
skin is growing numb to it. The sun on his skin doesn’t burn as much, the hot air doesn’t feel
suffocating and the fatigue from all the sleepless nights seems to be gone completely.
Every movement comes easier, Chuuya’s body feeling lighter than ever, unrestrained by the
limited strength of a human body, but it also feels sluggish. Being able to hear the smallest of
rustles of leaves crowning the trees far above and sensing the wind’s flow as if it was a river,
leaving behind a trail of wavy rows, makes Chuuya find moving around mundane.
Insignificant, even.
His mind, on the other hand, cannot keep up with the overflow of information it receives
every second. If his body is lazily swept away by the numbness, Chuuya’s thoughts explode
one after another, making it hard to focus on the immediate surroundings, or even on himself.
Until he can’t anymore.
The last thing Chuuya remembers is Dazai.
The kitsune, on his knees in front of him and holding onto him with a distant feeling of
fearful desperation. Then, once the world blurs into too bright images before his eyes and the
boy’s mind fogs with storm clouds, the redhead can only feel Dazai move.
The arms slide from around his waist and behind his back and legs, the ground stolen from
under Chuuya’s feet – not that the redhead would be able to keep himself upright in his state.
He’s laid down at some point, the futon soft under his back and what seems to be Dazai’s leg
under his head.
But Chuuya can’t see it, he can’t focus on it.
On anything, really.
He isn’t sure how much time passes as his body and mind are getting used to this. He drifts in
and out of consciousness, the boundary between imagination and reality unclear, and once all
of it quiets down and Chuuya opens his eyes again—
“Welcome back.”
—Dazai is by his side. Right where Chuuya has felt him all this time.
The kitsune is looking down at him with one warm, hazel eye, one hand resting on Chuuya’s
head on his lap and his tails laid out all around them like a soft, white divide between their
small world and everything else.
“How are you feeling?”
How – that’s a good question.
Chuuya squeezes his eyes one last time, brows knitting together as he searches for the
answer.
He feels… fine?
Weird in more than one way but, other than that, there’s nothing that Chuuya would classify
as wrong. His headache is gone, there’s no more ringing in his ears and his body feels just
like before – not too light, not too heavy and without the sluggish haze left behind by the
smallest of movements.
Everything coming to him from afar – scents, colours, and sounds – are nothing more than
background noise, insignificant unless the redhead chooses to pay attention to them. Which
he isn’t, not yet.
Gods, he won’t be trying that for a while.
He’s had enough for now.
“What…” Pulling himself up to sit on the futon, Chuuya rubs his eyes before looking back at
Dazai. “What happened?”
For a split second, the fox seems to hesitate. “Do you not remember…?”
“No, not that. I do but… how long was I out?”
“Ah.” There's relief on Dazai’s face and in the way his ears rise slightly. “Three days.”
…right.
Somehow, Chuuya can’t bring himself to say – or think – that it’s a lot anymore. He was
asleep for four years before then and now that he has made his choice, three days will soon
become nothing for him. Probably.
What is, however, weird is that he doesn’t feel too hungry, or thirsty, now that he’s come back
to his senses. The feeling is faint, more of a beginning of it rather than a fully formed urge,
and even if he can tell that he will need to do something about it sooner or later—
Again, it’s weird.
But Chuuya nods and doesn’t offer any other comments. Dazai stays quiet where he’s sitting,
observing the boy with a shy shadow of a smile on his lips.
When the redhead meets his gaze and sees the emotions bared to him from behind the dark
orb, willingly or not, his shoulders sag. He scratches the back of his neck – has the black
material around his throat always felt this… noticeable under his fingers? – and looks away.
“Are you not going to ask?”
He expects the fox to say something along the lines of ‘I knew all along’ but what he gets is
far from that, far from any sort of a tease Chuuya is expecting.
Dazai’s voice is quieter than usual, almost absent–minded. “No.”
He must know, now that he can see it.
And, for some reason, guilt stirs inside of Chuuya when he hears it. Its roots reach deep
inside his soul but they’re tangled with something else, something that both adds to and
lessens the burden.
“...it’s not like I didn’t want to tell you.” The boy mutters, feeling the need to explain at least
a little. “I just—” He ruffles his hair, irritated with the lack of words that would fit what he
means to say.
But just like every other time – Dazai understands.
“You don’t have to say it, Chuuya.” He reaches out, rushing away a strand that has fallen
over Chuuya’s face, the back of his fingers brushing the boy’s cheek. “It must have been hard
for you.”
It was.
It is—
And, as Chuuya soon finds out, what comes next will not be easy, either.
The days that follow are quiet, much more than the redhead would have ever expected them
to be. In the past, Chuuya got used to having Dazai follow him everywhere, he got used to
the kitsune sticking to his side, or his tails’ fur always brushing his body somewhere. But
now it’s Dazai’s gaze, not the touch, that never leaves him.
Silent.
Ever–present.
Lingering on him from the first rays of the day and late into the night.
Sometimes, it feels like Dazai isn’t even aware of it himself. Chuuya has already lived
through being observed out of curiosity and care, then out of protectiveness and concern, then
out of sorrow and, eventually, newfound hope.
The gaze he can feel on himself at all times isn’t that of paranoid protectiveness, it doesn’t
feel like Dazai is going out of his way to keep an eye on him. It’s like he can’t help himself,
like he has to keep looking to keep what’s in front of him alive and real, or else the spell
would break – until the day he allows himself to believe there is no spell to be broken.
No illusion to fade.
Not this time.
Not with this.
There aren’t as many teases coming from the fox these days, only a silent gaze and
occasional purrs that escape his chest when the fox relives that day over and over again in his
head, or maybe in his heart. Chuuya lets him do it, for the most part. He doesn’t want to force
Dazai to accept the truth for what it is – he wants the fox to believe it himself, to stop being
afraid that it may all be a dream he doesn’t realise he’s dreaming.
So, the boy waits.
As Chuuya gets used to the feeling of a new life that surrounds him, Dazai takes the time to
accept it, all of it, and eventually – he does. But not without a price to pay for it.
Even the most innocent of his touches grow more delicate, featherlight, but it’s not because
he’s still afraid of shattering the hope he was given, no.
It’s an apology.
A conscious choice.
Because Dazai knows what it will mean for Chuuya to stay with him and the fact that the
redhead chose it to be that way… it’s more than the kitsune thinks he deserves. More than he
will ever deserve.
Yet, he’s grateful.
An act he deems selfish. Cruel, even.
What he has always offered Chuuya was love in its more bare form, but now that same love
is laid out on the bed of guilt’s petals. Always ringing through his voice, always tainting his
gaze, and—
Chuuya knows there is nothing he can say to make it stop.
…but come two weeks later, he has had enough.
It’s a weird feeling, one he can’t quite describe even to himself.

The things that Dazai does, the way he acts – Chuuya can recall days similar to those, now
long gone in the past. He can recall how the kitsune’s tenderness used to awaken the
protective side in him, how the red eye’s gaze would stir a flame inside his chest.
He remembers the longing, the desire to forever stay by Dazai’s side.
He remembers the days they spent together, both good and bad.
Chuuya remembers loving his husband.
Now, though…
It’s not gone, not completely. There remains a part of him that smiles at the sound of quiet
purrs, or warms up whenever Dazai’s smile turns more genuine. He still cares for the fox,
he’s still grateful for all the time they have spent together, but it’s not a bright flame
anymore.
There’s no tingling under his skin when Dazai’s fingers reach for him, Chuuya doesn’t seek
the kisses he used to crave. He doesn’t mind them per se, but they’re more of a pointless act
to him now.
It’s like the love that he’s sure was there, has been… diluted.
The flame lives on in his memories, but it’s only the leftover, warm sensation that remains in
his heart now. Chuuya doesn’t know why it’s like that – he doesn’t remember the time the
answer to it was given to him – but… it just is.
Something happened and now this is who he is.
And whatever he forces himself to think of it, it’s nowhere near enough to overshadow the
steadily growing annoyance he feels when Dazai does the same thing over and over and over
and over again—
“Do you have to do that?” Chuuya asks, holding back his voice from dipping into a sharp
hiss.
Dazai’s hand stops mid air, the red strands slipping from his fingers as the fox’s eye widens
ever so slightly. “...do what?”
“That!” It comes out more harsh than Chuuya intended it to, when the boy pushes Dazai’s
hand away from his face. “I can do it myself if it bothers me.”
Surprise washes over the kitsune’s features, quickly turning into a mixture of guilt, dejection
and… slow understanding.
“I thought Chibi liked it.”
“And I thought I already told you I don’t like that name.” Focusing back on the painting he’s
working on, Chuuya tries to calm the bubble of anger growing in his chest. “You’re
distracting me.”
The occasional outbursts and the fragility of the hold he has over the negative side of his
emotions aren’t helpful in situations like this one, either. Rationally, Chuuya knows Dazai
hasn’t done anything wrong and that there is no need for him to try and fight the fox but—
Feeling angry is easier than feeling confused.
Arahabaki’s essence thrives on anger and Chuuya… he knows it well enough to navigate it.
Confusion, though? The conflict between what he knows he should feel and what he can’t
find in himself anymore so easily anymore?
That’s a struggle too foreign for his wrenched out mind.
Dazai stays silent for a long moment after taking his hand back, long enough for Chuuya’s
disturbed emotions to calm down and for guilt to whisper from its dark corner again when he
notices the fox doesn’t move to walk away. Suddenly, Chuuya feels like he’s just scolded a
child, not a centuries old demon – or worse, a puppy.
Letting out a sigh, the redhead puts the painting brush down carefully and turns his body to
face the fox fully.
“Listen, Dazai—”
But when the face he sees is not that of hurt, but rather that of pensive acceptance, Chuuya’s
words die in his throat.
Something tugs at his heart.
Something whispers to let it go—
“Can I ask you a question, Chuuya?”
Lips pressed together, the redhead nods, and what comes next is a question that should have a
simple answer awaiting it—
“Why did you choose to do it?”
—but it doesn’t.
Had Dazai asked it when he first saw Chuuya that day, the boy would have said it’s because
he loves him more than he had ever loved himself.
Now, the same words can’t make it out of his throat.
The memories of their love, the bond that they share – it all urges Chuuya to say it, but
indifference mixed into his soul weakens that need. It strips the confession of its meaning, of
its genuinity.
“...you know why.” Chuuya mutters instead.

“I like to think I do, yes.” Dazai smiles at him, his tails retracting to lie behind his back. “But
is it still the same truth?”
“...” Is it? “...I don’t regret it.”
That much, at least, Chuuya can say with confidence.
The path he was following may have become blurred in front of him but the steadiness of his
conviction remains. The old, confused part of him continues to believe it and so does the new
one.
It doesn’t save the situation but it does erase some of the guilty notes from Dazai’s face and
gaze. “Can I ask you another question, then?”
Feeling a weak tingle of annoyance, Chuuya clicks his tongue. “You’re going to do it anyway
so just say it.”
It draws a huff from the fox but the lightness of it doesn’t reach his words.
“After our first meeting with Mori–san, do you remember what I said?”
Chuuya’s eyes narrow, his gut twisting at the memory – yet, a part of him remains
unbothered. “That you won’t kill me?”
“Ah. That, too. But I mean the other part.”
“...that you’re done with playing nice?”
“Now, that’s a quote your mind made up, Chuuya, those aren’t my words.” A sigh. “But,
again, not that.”
The boy rolls his eyes. Dazai may have said it differently back then but it sure was what he
meant, and how he acted.
“Enlighten me, then?”
They both said many things that day and Chuuya distinctively remembers hating every
second of it—
“Do you remember what I said after you stopped me from walking away?”
—except for one moment they shared, after everything else had been shattered.
Chuuya’s body tenses, his eyes widening. There are two rumbles resonating deep in his chest
– one is a familiar, burning cry from deep within Chuuya’s heart, the same one that has led
him here through all the obstacles and suffering, and the other… It’s just as clear, just as
strong, but it’s not a happy one.
Indifference turned bitter, that’s how it feels.

Chuuya’s heart hiccups, while his lips twist into a half–grimace, his voice bearing both of the
calls that his soul follows – neither any less true.
“...maybe.”
Whatever the kitsune thinks of the conflict in Chuuya’s voice, he doesn’t let it show. Instead,
his lips stretch into a smirk, confidence flowing back into his gaze.
“I meant what I said, Chuuya.”
“You don’t have to.” But even the way he says it feels conflicted. “It’s—we’re fine. I am
fine.”
A hum. “I’m not saying we aren’t.”
“You’re implying it.”
“I assure you…” Dazai’s voice quiets a little, but there’s no hesitation in what he says. “I
have never been happier than I am now.”
Why bother, then?
Why not let it be the way it is?
“If you’re so happy, you should stop trying to ruin it.” Chuuya grits his teeth, but the feeling
inside his chest is fuzzy, warm, expectant.
Dazai doesn’t falter under his glare, only offering the boy a smile in return. “I don’t think
making my husband happy would ruin any of it.”
“I am happy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“And are you happy being here, Chuuya?”
“Y—” The redhead feels his throat tightening, a heavy feeling he can’t explain holding his
words back. “...”
He wants to say ‘yes’.
He doesn’t want to say ‘no’.
But neither comes out. Met with Dazai’s raised brow, Chuuya only groans and goes back to
his painting, avoiding looking at the fox at all.
“...whatever. I don’t care.”
Somewhere deep, he does.

But not all of him.
Outside of Chuuya’s view, Dazai smiles to himself – determined and with a remorseful hint
to it. He stands up from his cushion, careful not to disturb Chuuya in his task, and walks past
the boy without another word, only stroking the back of his head once before disappearing
from the room.
(//I’ll make you fall in love with me all over again. However many times it takes.//)
It feels like reliving his life.
Or, at least, reliving the old days.
Chuuya spends more time with Ryuu and Gin than he does with Dazai, at least for a while.
Somehow, the siblings have managed to adapt to the new situation much quicker than the fox,
even if it did take them a few days to fully grasp the whole meaning of what Chuuya has
done. But they’re happy for him, happy to be able to remain his friends longer than a single
human lifetime would have allowed them to.
Then, there’s Dazai.
Dazai, who has finally come to believe what his eyes see in front of him.
Dazai, whose love is written into Chuuya’s soul with blurred characters.
Dazai, who is making him go insane.
For whatever reason, the kitsune has decided that acting like an annoying, overly cheerful
but also vaguely threatening demon–brat that Chuuya remembers from his first days here will
earn him back the love and affection the boy once gave willingly before he even knew it.
He bothers Chuuya whenever the redhead isn’t too busy, or even when he is. He teases him
relentlessly and offers brief, barely–there touches that leave a ticklish sensation behind on his
skin.
He tells Chuuya stories that the redhead unwillingly gets lost in. He draws the angry hisses
and half–hearted threats out of him like it was nothing, like he has done it his entire life, and
among all of it—
He never touches Chuuay the way the boy knows he wants to.
They way they used to seek each other.

It’s infuriating just as much as it is endearing, and Chuuya’s mind is being slowly thrown into
a mess he can’t put back into order. The kisses that used to be between them aren’t there
anymore, which should be fine because it’s not like Chuuya craves them anymore.
Yet, their lack feels odd.
Having Dazai’s body always close but not too close despite living in the same house, resting
in the same room—
It’s like he’s being denied something.
Something that shouldn’t matter but does nonetheless.
It’s been a while since the last time Chuuya saw Dazai’s genuine smile, not a teasing smirk.
It’s been a while since the last time he heard his purrs, or felt the white fur under his fingers.
It’s been a long time since he last peeked under Dazai’s bandages.
Since Chuuya last saw him, the whole him.
There’s a side of Chuuya that, up until now, has been very clear about not being interested in
that part of his past. A side of him that tolerates Dazai – finds him interesting, even – but not
much more. Or so it should be.
But the kitsune is teasing him day in and day out, keeping the rewards of withstanding it just
outside of his reach.
He’s mocking Chuuya. All while the whispers that echo from every bit that touches the bond
between them keep reminding the redhead of what their life used to be. Of the endless walks
through the forest, of the nights they spend in each other’s embrace.
Of the tears shed.
Of the promises made.
Of the peace that only exists when the other is close—
SLAM!
Not for the first time this month, the door to their room slides shut with a loud slam behind
Chuuya after the boy has walked away from a smirk that leaves his heart fluttering and his
blood boiling.
How come something like this worked on him before?
Was he that stupid?

(Or was he simply not as stubborn and petty as a part of him is now?)
With a frustration twisting his face, Chuuya walks from the door to the window, trying to
calm himself with deep breaths. It’s not that Dazai has done anything worth this kind of
reaction – reasonably speaking, Chuuya knows it – but the damned fox could give it a rest
already, or do something about it.
Back off, or commit to the teases.
Whichever he prefers, as long as he stops with this dangling on the border of both and neither
of the two.
He acts too casual for it to feel genuine and, yet, too open and honest for his words and the
emotions behind them to be a lie.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale—
The tree just outside their window looks like it’s pitying Chuuya’s sorry state and internal
conflict, so the redhead turns away from it.
Exhale.
The one–sided argument from just now should buy Chuuya at least a few hours to himself,
the hours Dazai says are his ‘sulking time’ but the boy calls them anything but that. A rest, an
escape – sure, but he is not sulking. There’s no reason for him to.
Blue eyes scan the room, taking everything in despite knowing every corner better than he
knows himself.
In a way, he hates it here.
He hates how every single thing reminds him of how he used to be, of what they used to
have. The mirror that Dazai put up to have Chuuya paint the both of them together, the futon
they continue to share despite the redhead’s several threats about moving to his old room.
The silver bowls that they haven’t used in a long time – will they, ever again? – the papers
and scrolls Dazai used to go through whenever Chuuya would brush his tails.
Chuuya’s old paintings.
The clothes the kitsune gifted him.
And most of all—
Not for the first time, Chuuya’s stomach twists when his gaze falls on the small, wooden box
in the corner of the room, having been sealed for years now.
The box that holds the flower Kouyou’s Golden Demon once laid on his hand.
Chuuya’s greatest treasure and… his biggest fear.
The last time he peeked inside of that box was before the whole Shibusawa thing and ever
since, he couldn’t bring himself to do it again. Well, for the fours years that followed it he
physically wasn't able to even think about it but after that—
For the last two years, Chuuya has avoided it like fire.
Keeping secrets from his loved ones and, ultimately, having to sacrifice someone’s future was
hard enough on him. Even without the undeniable proof of a flower that had lost its shine, the
redhead felt like he was doing something wrong.
Like he deserved the pain that came with existing.
And now… even though he has already seen glass–like petals falling dark in his hand, he
can’t bring himself to see it again. Because, even after all this time, he can’t help but hope
that maybe it would be different this time.
That, maybe, he did make the right choice.
Or, if he didn’t, that his struggles would be enough to pay for all the wrongs he has caused.
…but can he truly hope for it?
Does he truly deserve to be forgiven for what he’s doing to Dazai right now? For having
forsaken the love he vowed to cherish until the end of time?
What about his family?
What about—
Slowly, he steps closer, kneeling down next to the wooden box, his hand resting on top of it.
For once, both voices inside his soul echo in unison – both equally as reluctant.
They’re usually in agreement with each other, it’s only when it comes to Dazai that they can’t
seem to follow the same tide. One voice seeks the kitsune with the longing melody of another
time, while the other refuses to listen to it, not just indifferent towards it anymore but
persistent in denying the bond its due.
Like a stubborn child.
Like something inside of him is trying to make a point.
Now that Chuuya thinks about it, who is he more frustrated with: Dazai, or himself?
Or perhaps it’s life and Fate that the boy wants to fight, just like a demon should?
Whichever it is, Chuuya’s hands can’t land that punch, no matter how much they itch to, and
they also can’t lift the lid to the box that haunts his head with its judgement.
His fingers tighten around it as the redhead swallows, his heart beating faster as he fights
with himself—
Knock, knock!
—only to push the box away and leave it there.
“What?!” He hisses, glaring at the door.
He knows it’s Dazai, his sharpened senses have grown used to the way Dazai carries himself
– to the sound of his steps, the rustle of his clothes and the scent of his fur – but the kitsune
usually leaves him to take his time for much longer. It hasn't even been half an hour since
Chuuya stormed out of the main room after their bickering had turned his frustration into
rage.
Dazai slides the door open, eyeing briefly the cracked wood of the door frame with faint
amusement.
“We’ll have to repair it again. Chibi is truly a brute, isn’t he?”
Chuuya’s eye twitches. “Stop calling me that.” But the fox only grins wider and steps inside.
“Oh, but I like it~”
Another step closer.
“I don’t care!”
And another.
“Chi~bi~”
And another—
“Daz—wha—?!”
Faster than Chuuya can fight it, Dazai picks him up and throws him over his shoulder. Then,
the kitsune leaps at the window and before the boy knows it, they’re both outside.
“Put me down!”
This time, Dazai complies right away. “As Chibi wishes~”

When his feet touch the grass, Chuuya stumbles backwards as he catches his balance, glaring
at the fox with bright new anger. “What the hell was that for?!”
Dazai, however, only blinks at him, oh, so innocently.
…why does it feel like an act? Like there’s something behind it?
“Helping Chibi get some fresh air?”
“I can get it myself if I want to, and can you fucking stop it already?!”
A playful hum makes Chuuya’s blood sizzle. “No~”
“Dazai—”
“But I am willing to accept a payback for it.” There’s a red flash in Dazai’s eyes, an intent so
clear but, even so, hiding its roots from Chuuya’s understanding so well, it makes the boy’s
anger halt for a second.
“...huh?”
“Payback.” The kitsune repeats. “Revenge. Whatever you want to call it. I’m offering, so
why not try it?” He spreads his arms, a teasing grin on his face. “You’ve been thinking of
fighting me for a while, haven’t you?”
Chuuya’s eyes narrow, his hands clenched into fists.
He hasn’t.
“Dazai, when will you get a fucking clue—”
“Is Chibi scared~?”
Ah, so maybe he has, in fact, been tempted by that thought.
Chuuya’s body moves on his own, leaping at the kitsune to grab onto his clothes and shake
reason into him but… Dazai steps to the side and slips from the boy’s fingers.
“Now, now~” The fox chirps, tilting his head to the side. “That was rather half–hearted,
wasn’t it?”
Allowing himself to be provoked, Chuuya tries again and… misses once more.
“You won’t win against me if you aren’t honest with it, little human.”
As if there is any way Chuuya would win against a demon as he is now. “Stay still—!”
“Ah, but where’s the fun in that~?” Moving out of Chuuya’s reach, Dazai grabs the redhead's
wrist and spins them around, which causes Chuuya to lose balance and fall onto the ground.
“I don’t think making it easy on purpose is what you want.”
Chuuya glares at him, jumping to his feet and trying to kick the fox in the side. “You don’t
know shit about what I want!”
A hum and a step away. “I think I do.”
“I think you’re full of shit!”
No matter how much Chuuya tries, though, not a single one of his attacks reaches Dazai.
“I think Chibi is too stubborn to see it.” The fox drawls, his eye carefully watching his every
move.
“I think you are acting like an annoying child!”
“Because I’m showing my husband how much I love and support him?” Dazai arches a brow,
one of his tails low over the ground – a trap – but Chuuya jumps over it, refusing to fall to the
ground again. “Oh, no. Cruel me.”
“You’re making fun of me!” The boy hisses, his chest bursting with frustration and, along
with it, dejection he doesn’t understand. “How the fuck is that being supportive?!”
Another swing, another kick.
Not a single one of them lands.
“Ah, as I said, you’re too stubborn to see it~”
“You don’t know when to give up!”
Is he really talking about the fight anymore? Or is Chuuya’s heart speaking out about
something else?
“I never give up, little human. It’s not in my nature.”
“Then fucking learn to!”
“Not until Chibi falls for me again~”
Chuuya trips over another of Dazai’s tails but doesn't fall, while a dark cloud gathers in his
heart.
“I will not!”
“I think you will~”
“Stop acting like you know me better than I do!”
“Oh, but I do~” Fangs flash from behind his lips. “I’ve always known you better than you
knew yourself, Chibi~”
“No, you did NOT—!”

“And I’ll have my husband back soon enough~”
Red flashes again and something inside of Chuuya breaks—
“STOP TREATING ME LIKE I’M NOTHING BUT MY PAST—!”
“Finally.”
It takes a split second for the world to spin around and for Chuuya’s back to hit the ground
again, both wrists pinned to the grass over his head where Dazai is holding them still. The
kitsune is leaning over him, legs on boths sides of Chuuya’s hips and nine tails casting
shadows all around them.
Chuuya writhes under him but the fox doesn’t budge. “Let go of me—!”
“No.”
“Dazai!”
“No.”
Finally focusing on the face looming over him, Chuuya feels his breath being punched out of
his lungs. His body stills, brows trembling into a frown and his nails digging into his palms.
“Say it, Chuuya.” Dazai’s voice is low, unwavering, firm but not quite intimidating. Not for
Chuuya. “Say what you have to say to me. Why do you think you won’t love me again?”
The redhead’s lips are pressed together, his eyes ablaze with not quite anger, but not quite
pain, either.
“Because I don’t want to.” He forces out, never looking away from Dazai’s red orb staring
right into his soul.
“And why is that?”
“Do I need a reason?”
“You loved me once—”
“That was before I—”
Biting his tongue, Chuuya stops himself from speaking. His chest feels heavy, Dazai’s fingers
around his wrists send electricity down his spine and the way the kitsune is looking at him…
Chuuya likes it.
He hates it just the same—
“I won’t be the human you loved.” The redhead ends up saying eventually, every word
leaving a sour taste in his mouth as his voice morphs more and more from a hiss into a
scream. “I’m not him anymore, so stop trying to search for him. Stop looking at me like I’m
him and STOP TRYING TO BRING HIM BACK!”
There’s silence between them, only Chuuya’s heavy breathing filling the air when…
Letting out a sigh, Dazai leans back, sitting up more properly without letting go of Chuuya’s
wrists.
“There you go.” He says. “Are you feeling better now?”
When Chuuya doesn’t answer, the kitsune softens his gaze, his voice losing its edge while
maintaining the firm, honest tone that seeps into Chuuya’s bones no matter how much the
boy tries to fight it.
“But you’re wrong, Chuuya. I’m not doing any of that.”
His grip loosens, fingers rubbing the inside of Chuuya’s wrists in a manner the redhead
remembers all too clearly – in a manner he used to treasure so much, but now can only accept
with a bittersweet feel to it.
“I know you’re not the same as before and I’m not trying to go back to that.”
Chuuya’s throat feels tight, dry from all the words he was swallowing for the longest time.
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re doing the same thing you did back then. You’re doing everything the same!”
“I’m not.” Dazai cuts him off firmly. Then, levelling his voice again… “It’s similar, yes,
because you are similar, but it’s different from before.”
“How?!”
Red eye searches the blue ones, seeing the doubts and anger and pain hiding behind the
illusion of light.
There was a time when it would have melted his heart to see it, when it would have brought
out soft whispers and reassurances from his chest to soothe Chuuya’s ache. But that was back
when everything was much simpler and now… Now, tenderness isn’t what the redhead seeks
anymore.
It’s not what he needs.
“Back then,” Dazai starts. “I was courting a human who was wary of me, even if he refused
to be scared.”
And he was doing it without being aware of it himself.

“And now I am courting a soul that doesn’t shy away from pain, or fear, or danger. I’m
courting a soul that likes the thrill of a fight and I’m giving it to him.”
Chuuya blinks, the voices inside of him… quiet.
Both of them.
“You…” The redhead feels lost without the anger that fuels him. “...I’m not the one you fell
in love with.”
Of course, he isn’t.
Between then and now, so much has happened – Chuuya’s case may be special, because even
his soul has changed in that time, but no one would be the same after going through all of
that. So he doesn’t have to be, either.
Dazai has never asked him to be the same.
Never allowing himself to pursue the unattainable wish, Dazai hasn’t even asked Chuuya to
stay with him, to make that choice the redhead kept to himself. He can have it now, he can
have it forever, and even if that wouldn’t be the case—
For as long as they’ve known each other, Dazai would fall in love with Chuuya again each
day all over again.
With the smiles and with the angry hisses.
With the light and the darkness of his soul.
Because all of it is Chuuya, all of it makes up the person Dazai loves most in this world and
every other. He would be a fool to reject any of it after he was given more than he had ever
dreamt of being offered.
“I don’t need you to be.” The fox says. “I only need you to believe me when I say I love you
the way you are now, Chuuya.”
There’s a feeling in his gut that Chuuya can’t shake off.
Too tame to be that of anger, and too unsettling to hold affection.
(But as uncertain and persistent as hope can be.)
“...I get angry at you a lot.”
Dazai huffs. “I’m used to it, and I deserve it.”
“...” He does, sometimes. “...I will get angry again.”
“I know.”
“And I might need to leave sometimes—take a break.”

Dazai leans forward, dark bangs cascading around his face. “I understand.”
“No, you—” Chuuya bites his lip, the feeling in his gut tightening. “You were happy with
how I was, what if you can’t be happy with—”
“Chuuya.” Dazai stops him before the flame of the boy’s anger flares up again. “You have
never been the lenient type you think yourself of, and I have always adored all you had to
offer.”
“...that was before.”
“It has been so for weeks, and it is so now.”
When Dazai leans even closer – so close – Chuuya can feel his heart hammering in his throat.
His soul is stirring all over, the blind stubbornness of some of the voices losing its strength.
Some of them want to scramble away.
While others—
“So stop being jealous of your past, Chuuya.”
—others want to believe what Dazai promises.
“Stop being jealous of yourself.”
(//But you will, eventually.//)
It feels like a spell has been cast on him, a spell that makes every whisper sound… the same.
Every emotion – in agreement. It feels like a part of him, the one that has been struggling to
give into what it has never experienced before and has refused to surrender to a fate of never
being enough—
Right now, that part of Chuuya is pliant.
Like a child whose tantrum was overcome and who is now reluctant but… happy.
Perhaps for the first time in its whole existence.
Dazai looks at him, at every part of him, with equal determination and hopeful fondness.
There’s no selection taking place behind the darkness and the crimson of his eye, no
preference for what it seeks—
Dazai sees Chuuya, the old and the new.
While Chuuya…
“...okay.”
He’s willing to look at himself again, too, not at the image of himself he was chasing.
That one, simple word is enough for Dazai’s expression to clear, for the tiredness and worry
fade away and… for the will to take up another challenge to settle in.
The kitsune smirks, his elbows resting on the ground next to Chuuya’s. “Does that mean I can
continue my courting?”
It earns him a weak roll of eyes, but… “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”
“And Chuuya will accept it?”
A snort. “That depends on your skill, fox.”
A bright flash of red lightens up Dazai’s eye, right before his gaze travels lower, and the air
between them stills. Dazai’s fingers squeeze Chuuya’s wrist, the ends of his hair ticking the
boy’s skin—
“Does that mean I can kiss my husband?”
And all of a sudden, Chuuya feels blood rushing in his ears.
“...you were doing it before.”
“I was.”
They’re so close, the redhead can almost feel it—
“But I’m asking whether you want me to do it.”
Now that not a single drop of his soul is trying to fight against it – Chuuya does want it.
And he gets it.
He’s finally getting the kiss Dazai has been denying him for weeks, the touch that came a full
circle from longing to indifference to need once more. It doesn't burn with the same intensity
it could try to reach under different circumstances, that’s not what it’s for.
This kiss that feels much like Chuuya’s first is like a greeting after a long time apart.
A reunion, at last.
And a new beginning.
—
Sometimes, when he doesn’t have anything else to do, Verlaine likes to walk along the river
that cuts the fields and the forest around where he lives when he’s not travelling. He likes
listening to the soothing sounds of flowing water, observing the light that catches on the lazy
waves when the sun hits them right, or—
“Mommy! Mommy! Look!”
—or, whenever he closes his eyes, he likes to think back to another river.
Another forest.
Another time.
“I caught a fish! Look! Look!”
It’s not uncommon to see humans in places like these and Verlaine doesn’t stop to observe
them, either. He keeps his eyes on the pebbles on his path, his ears deaf to the voices of a
happy family spending their day together, and as he does so, the thinks to himself—
‘Will you ever forgive me, Arthur?’
‘Will you forgive me for being allowed to keep Chuuya here, away from you?’
‘Will you ever forgive me for… being happy, just this once?’
To those questions, Verlaine will never receive an answer. He doesn’t expect one, either.
He simply wonders to himself and whispers apologies to be carried by the wind into another
life as he walks down a path like a million others.
Alone.
(...and by his side, a figure that isn’t truly there but that walks along the same path in a world
that mirrors this one. A man with long, dark hair and the eyes of gold, hands folded behind
his back and a smile on his face.
At times like these, this man walks alone, too.
“Of course, I will.”
And in that world so far away, he doesn’t feel cold anymore.)
Chapter End Notes

I could have made them work through it longer buuuuuuut I'll let them be happy :')
New but old but new love: unlocked!
Yay!
And a bit of explanation because I may have been too vague about it: think of it as
Baki's not-love diluted Chuuya's love into somethign more platonic-but-not-really, but
then Dazai's courting and flirts were gettign to Baki's side of Chuuya BUT that side was
jealous of Chuuya's other side because it thought Dazai was only trying to get THAT
side back, so it was sulking and denying being in love. But it's all good now!
A Bargain
Chapter Notes
Saying that Chuuya fully understands what his body and soul are going through would be an
overstatement. There are too many aspects of it that he’s having a hard time to wrap his head
around even now, but if there’s one thing he’s grateful for in the utter chaos of the past few
weeks, it’s that, at least, the process is slow.
Gradual, leaving the redhead enough time to get used to his new… self?
And once the part of him that has been fighting the pull between him and Dazai surrenders to
the feelings that have bloomed inside of him once more—
That’s when even more changes start to make themselves known.
Chuuya’s senses have already been sharpened since day one and, after a few weeks of
practice and headache, the redhead likes to believe he has got a hold of them. He knows how
to trick his mind into focusing only on his immediate surroundings, or on the specific sounds
and smells coming to him from afar, while he remains numb to everything else.
Surprisingly, it’s the sense of touch that Chuuya would struggle with the most. His skin is
more sensitive now – not delicate, it’s actually much more difficult for him to injure himself,
but he can feel everything and blocking out some of the stimuli has proven much more
difficult than simply ignoring the background noise of a now much louder forest.
Every brush of the material of his clothes feels heavier, more present.
Every water trailing down his body leaves a tingling sensation behind.
Chuuya is more aware of everything and, at times, he still finds himself overwhelmed despite
it having been weeks since he threw himself into this situation.
Of course, now that the walls separating them have crumbled, Dazai is thrilled about all of it.
The kitsune offers to help Chuuya get used to it in all the possible ways he can come up with,
which leads to more than many half–hearted arguments and heated nights. Not right away,
because for Chuuya as he is now, the longing feeling in his heart remains fresh, slowly
growing back into the fire it once used to be.
A part of him is reluctant even if curious all the same.
The last bits of pride and stubbornness Chuuya doesn’t feel the need to question are still
tugging at his mind whenever he allows Dazai stay close, but their voices never persist. They
grow quieter each day, devoid of the will to fight, to oppose everyone and everything.
Dazai must sense that, because his antics become more straightforward, more open.
The fox has never been the one to be discouraged easily but he really doesn’t hold himself
back anymore. Which is something the redhead refuses to admit that is actually helpful, both
with coming to terms with who Chuuya is now and with the way his body is changing.
Because it’s not only the sense of touch that has grown more acute, there’s more to it.
It’s something Chuuya wouldn’t have noticed himself if it wasn’t for Ryuu and Gin pointing
it out to him – he doesn’t eat as much as before, nor does he sleep as often. He’s rarely ever
truly tired anymore, no matter how active, in Chuuya’s opinion, his days are.
In the beginning, a few weeks ago, it was subtle enough for the redhead not to notice – he
had other things to worry about back then, too – but now it’s more than obvious if only he
bothers to notice some things. Like the nights that pass without him needing to rest, or the
more visible imprints he leaves behind.
Once Chuuya thinks his habits finally stabilise, sleep comes to him every two or three days,
so not as rarely as it does for Dazai, but still far from what a human body should need to
function.
But then again, Chuuya isn’t human anymore, is he?
He can’t be, a human would not be able to leave the marks he leaves on a demon and they
wouldn’t last as long as they do. His body is stronger now, another thing Chuuya isn’t quite
accustomed to just yet, which in turn leads to him having to replace some of the painting
brushes after he’s broken them by mistake, or to Dazai having to cast a spell that would repair
the door frames that have fallen victim to one of Chuuya’s outbursts.
He used to be fast in the past, too, but now he’s even faster and—
“Wha—?!”
One of Dazai’s tails wraps around Chuuya’s middle, pulling the redhead down until the fox
can wrap his arms around his thighs. “Got you~”
—and he has these weird things happening to him that he can’t control.
Like drifting off the ground out of nowhere, or setting small, black fires off without ever
meaning to, then being unable to put them out without Dazai’s help.
It’s nothing too dangerous, or so Ryuu and Gin tend to say. Dazai is always there to help
Chuuya get back down when the redhead can’t stop it himself, and he takes care of the fires
Chuuya sets around the house before any real damage is done. For demons, it may not be a
big deal.
But, for Chuuya, it’s extremely inconvenient.
Especially when it happens in his sleep.
He can still remember the time he woke up while suspended in air right over Dazai and
having the kitsune look up at him with a fascinated expression, smirking smugly at him when
the boy fell down on his chest when he came to.
It didn’t hurt but it was embarrassing.
And annoying.
Almost as much as all the teasing he had to suffer through in the next couple of days, or the
number of wooden panels he broke in that time.
Plus, it’s also something Chuuya would like to learn to control if he’s going to deal with it for
the rest of… well, for the rest of his most likely very long life.
“...thanks.” The redhead mumbles, resting his hands on Dazai’s shoulder when the fox
doesn’t feel it necessary to put Chuuya down just yet. “Enjoying yourself?”
The way Dazai’s fox ears twitch happily is all the answer Chuuya needs, but the kitsune still
hums in response, satisfied with himself. “Very much~”
Rolling his eyes, the redhead pats Dazai’s shoulder lightly. The first warning. “Okay, put me
down now.”
And… he doesn’t.
Of course not.
“What if Chuuya drifts away again?”
“Then you’ll catch me again.” Another pat on the shoulder, this time stronger. “Or you could
show me how not to do that anymore.”
A small pout settles on Dazai lips when the fox bends down to help Chuuya stand on the
ground again. “I did, though.”
Not that he was happy about it, obviously.
Chuuya can sense how much Dazai is enjoying the times he has to catch the redhead and
bring him back to the ground – an excuse to stick close to him at all times if nothing else. A
reason to be needed in the most annoying way, for when being wanted – or simply not
minded – isn’t enough anymore.
The problem is: Dazai did tell him a few tricks… but Chuuya doesn’t get it.
He understands what the kitsune is trying to convey through his advice, but none of it works
for him the same way it does for Dazai.
The things the kitsune tries to explain, the way he feels his own powers… it’s different. For
Chuuya, it isn’t natural to feel them. He isn’t one with them the way the fox breathes and
thinks with his own, he still needs to… tame them.
…why does that sound so familiar?

…why does it feel like someone is laughing at him, not malicious but… amused?
(“Told you so.”)
“Well, maybe you could show me differently.” Once he’s on the ground and doesn’t feel
himself flying off anymore, Chuuya lets out a sigh. “It’s fun and all for now but if I’m going
to stay around for gods know how long, I don’t want to keep needing an anchor to move
around.”
Even if that anchor would be Dazai himself.
Especially if it’s him.
“I don’t know any different way, Chibi. It always worked for me just fine.” Chuuya’s eyes
narrow, threatening, but before the redhead can say anything, the way Dazai tilts his head
stops him. The kitsune seems to consider it, actually consider, and then his voice trails off…
“The lethal flower may, though.”
Somehow, that statement is both a surprise and none at all.
“Kouyou?”
Dazai nods, though his lips twitch, annoyed. “She’s closer to your situation than I am.”
…huh?
Confused and curious, Chuuya arches a brow at that. “...how?”
A sigh. “That’s something you should ask her, not me.”
The comment makes Chuuya’s brows climb even higher. He crosses his arms over his chest,
a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You? Afraid of spilling someone’s secrets? How interesting.”
But the kitsune only huffs at the comment, one of his tails stirring. “Being afraid and wise are
two entirely different concepts, little human. I need not make enemies where I have nothing
to gain from it.”
That’s one way to put it, Chuuya supposes.
Though even if the kitsune tries to hide it, he can see there’s a reason much more genuine to
it as well.
“And it’s not a secret.” Dazai continues, his tails swaying lazily behind him. “Simply a
personal matter. She’ll tell you if you ask about it.”
Seeing the kitsune show this much respect, whatever its source may be, is something Chuuya
doesn’t witness often. Most of the time when Dazai mentions Kouyou in any way, Chuuya
can see fondness laid out together with the usual tease, old conflicts caped with a newfound
understanding.
Indifference, tamed hatred, yes – but respect is rare.
Not that the redhead minds it. In his eyes, Kouyou deserves nothing less.
But it’s also a nice excuse to make fun of the almighty fox and get back at him for all the
jokes and nicknames from the past years. However, before Chuuya has a chance to say
anything more, a small, black–red flame lighting up at the ends of his hair catches his
attention and startles him back to reality. It never hurts, it doesn’t actually burn his hair, but
it’s annoying—
“...fine.” Patting the flame down until it disappears, which is taking too long for a flame this
small, Chuuya glances at Dazai with an unsatisfied look in his eyes. “But can we go
sometime soon? This is getting ridiculous.”
Inconveniences aside, Chuuya wouldn’t want to see their home burn down because of him.
It would be too sad of a sight to bear, a place too important to lose because of a simple
mistake, especially when it’s his own.
“I was wondering when you’d show up.”
Kouyou expecting them to come sooner or later isn’t a surprise, not to Chuuya. He’s learnt to
never underestimate not only her skills, but also her intuition, and the glint in her eyes tells
him that the spirit has more than merely a vague idea as to why they’re here.
Chuuya scratches the back of his neck, awkward about having to ask for her help again.
“Sorry about that…”
The spirit chuckles. “Don’t be. It’s a pleasant way to spend my time.”
“For the record, I tried my best to get a hang of it myself until now.”
When one of Dazai’s ears flickers, Kouyou glances at him, the tease from her eyes blooming
on her lips now. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, lad. I’m sure your fox did his best, too.”
Dazai snorts but doesn’t fight it when Kouyou gestures for him to follow one of the petals–
figures. He sits down under one of the trees, the white of his fur in stark contrast to the red
and golden leaves of late autumn falling all around him, and accepts the tea offered to him on
a small tray.
“I’m sure it’ll be a sight to watch you perform, lethal flower.” He says, a sour note in his
voice.
Kouyou arches one brow at him. “Is it bitterness I smell, fox?”

“Did you put any in this tea you have me drink? If not, I see no reason for it.”
“Oh, my. As petty as always, I see.”
“I don’t know what you’re imagining—”
“I’m sorry about him.” Chuuya cuts in, shooting a glare at the kitsune to make him stop
talking and instead focus on his drink. “Please, don’t think much of it. We’re both grateful for
your help.”
Dazai less so than Chuuya, but he is.
To an extent.
Another chuckle bloom in Kouyou’s chest, a melody as sweet as the memory of summer
captured in the golden leaves carried by the autumn wind. “Don’t worry, lad, I have long
since grown used to it.”
‘How long?’ Chuuya wonders, but the sparkles that light up Kouyou’s eyes as she looks back
at him make that thought disappear before he can voice it.
“Shall we start, then?”
How Kouyou always manages to say exactly the right thing, Chuuya will never understand.
But he’s glad for it.
For her.
At its core, the guidance she offers isn’t that different from Dazai’s – and the fox must be
aware of it, because Chuuya can see him roll his eye more than once – but the path that leads
Chuuya there is what makes all the difference. Dazai wanted him to stop thinking, to feel the
patterns that come to him naturally – like breathing – while Kouyou…
Kouyou teaches him how to make them into a skill Chuuya can learn and, with enough time
and practice, hone. And she makes sure he does exactly that: practice.
This is what they came here for, but—
As Dazai once told him, the ‘lethal flower’ name he calls her isn’t a baseless one.
Training under Kouyou is tough, more than Chuuya expected or was ready for, and very
thorough. To the point that Dazai, who watches over every second of it, sometimes lets a low
growl slip from his throat. It’s never threatening but it does sound displeased, especially
when Chuuya’s legs give out under him whenever he startles himself with his own powers.
But even if some of Kouyou’s methods push the limits of what Chuuya thinks he can and
can’t do – Dazai was right, the spirit knows what she’s doing. She knows how to navigate the
powers Chuuya holds within and she makes it sound so simple.
She’s patient as the redhead struggles to call upon any of the lingering powers he now
possesses, and when he finally does manage to light a small flame in the palm of his hand—
She makes him repeat it.
Over and over again.
And, as far as the spirit says, it’s only the beginning.
Their first session is long and, after weeks of feely barely any physical pain, impossibly
exhausting. By the end of it, Chuuya is panting heavily, his body feeling heavy and aching all
over – ironically enough, he feels human in that moment. For the first time since accepting
Arahabaki’s essence into his soul, he feels like he could sleep for days and still wake up sore.
He’s so tired that… he forgets to ask about what Dazai told him.
And the next day they come, too.
And many more after that.
Dazai never reminds Chuuya of it, either. He doesn’t care about it enough, nor does he think
it relevant. To him, the most important thing to get out of those visits is Chuuya learning to
navigate his powers. At least at first.
But then… somewhere along the line, the kitsune can’t say he minds it anymore. Because
even if it’s thanks to Kouyou again and not himself, watching Chuuya’s smile and hear his
laughter whenever he grasps some of his powers—
How could the kitsune ever not feel content with it?
How could he ever keep himself from smiling when Chuuya looks like that, so carefree and
lively despite everything he was forced to face?
Plus… had he truly minded Kouyou’s company, he would have never proposed this solution.
But that’s only for Dazai to know.
It’s only some months later that Chuuya’s curiosity resurfaces, seemingly out of nowhere.
He’s lying on his back on the ground, the snow covering the hill like a soft cushion and, very
weirdly so, not cold at all. His breathing is heavy and his muscles feel like they’re on fire,
he’s definitely not moving anytime soon.
Who knew something seemingly as easy as lighting up a fire in his arms and manipulating it
into changing shape from mere sparks into a flame the size of Chuuya’s head would be this
hard?
Who knew practising levitating would make his body feel like he’s been running for days
without any break?
It’s now that he thinks to himself that maybe replacing a few wooden panels at home from
time to time isn’t that big of a deal. He has learnt enough already, right?
And it’s that thought that reminds him of Dazai’s words.
Of his own curiosity that has been overshadowed by exhaustion and excitement every time he
comes here.
Dazai is sitting near to where Chuuya is taking his time to rest, Kouyou next to him. There
used to be a time when the fox would worry about Chuuya’s condition, or at least get a little
angry whenever the redhead pushed himself to the point of not being able to move anymore,
but now…
A small cup in one hand and a small smirk on his lips, Dazai looks like he’s enjoying this
more than Chuuya would like him to. Traitor.
(“Can you blame him, though?”)
…and why does it feel like he’s not the only one?
But he’ll leave that conversation for later.
Pushing himself up on both arms, his head heavy and his neck straining as he looks at
Kouyou, Chuuya tries to calm his breathing enough to be able to speak.
“Can… Can I ask you something?”
The spirit quirks a brow, but stays silent otherwise, which Chuuya assumes is a ‘yes’.
“How come Dazai’s advice didn’t help, but yours does?”
The fox’s ear twitches, annoyed once again even if his face doesn’t show it, but Kouyou only
chuckles to herself at the question. It’s a light melody, flowing through the air like a breeze
carrying fallen flowers – or snowflakes, right now.
“Of course, his advice wouldn’t help.” She says, briefly sending the fox a teasing look.
Dazai looks back at her, but doesn’t say anything and only sips on his drink the same way he
always does when he’s not letting himself be tricked into another exchange he may or may
not win.
“Demons are born with their powers and with the knowledge how to use them. It’s the core of
their existence.” The spirit says. “They don’t know how to tame something that didn’t always
belong to them.”
“Our powers do change, however.” Dazai cuts in, trying to paint it as a shrugged comment
but failing. “We still learn how to control them as we get older.”
“They awaken, fox. It doesn’t mean they weren’t there before.”
Right… it doesn’t explain anything at all.
Furrowing his brows as he looks between the other two, Chuuya decides to ignore Dazai’s
side of the conversation for now. “...and spirits do—I mean, they know how?”
Is that what the difference is?
Personally, Chuuya doesn’t fully understand the difference between demons and spirits,
they’re all the same to him. Ghosts, he can manage, because they lack the physical body
everyone else seems to have – which Chuuya is painfully aware of – but the rest of the yōkai
world feels both so varied and, at the same time, petterned.
“No.” Kouyou shakes her head, the silver patterns at the sides of her face glittering like the
day’s first snow. “Spirits aren’t much different from demons in that regard.”
“Then how…?”
She offers him a polite smile and whatever may hide behind her expression, Chuuya can’t see
it. The veil of easiness with which she speaks is too thick to see past, her expression too
well–trained when she say all the things Chuuya didn’t see coming—
“Because I didn’t always have my powers. They were given to me.”
“Given?” Chuuya’s brows knit together, confused. “Why? By who?”
A god?
Another spirit?
Chuuya thought that wasn’t possible, that’s what everyone else told him.
Together with his questions, a warm breeze – warm for them; for the world around, covered
in snow? Not so much – carries the golden petals with it, but it’s only around Kouyou that
they seem to shine brighter.
More freely.
As if they’re lighting up a shadow, an invisible darkness—
“By Death.”
Chuuya’s eyes widen, lips parting – but Dazai only huffs out a small laugh.
“Didn’t I tell you, lad?”
Guessing by the amused lilt to her tone, Kouyou must know that no, whatever she means by
that, she didn’t tell him. And, at this point, Chuuya isn’t sure what to expect, or if anything
can even surprise him at this point, but—
“I was a human once, too.”
—but, apparently, Chuuya can never win against her. Not even in this.
“You— what?!”
Dazai’s lips twitch at the corners, visibly amused by Chuuya’s surprise, but Kouyou only
flutters her lashes at him.
“Which part?”
Oh, these two are sometimes too similar—
“Both?!” He looks between the two of them. “You—but I thought you can’t remember
anything when you reincarnate so how—”
Before Chuuya can lose himself down the path of contradictions, Kouyou brings her hand up,
silencing the redhead with only a small gesture. It’s small but it’s enough and, once again:
Chuuya knows better than to go against her.
“I didn’t reincarnate. This is still the same body and soul I had when I died.”
When she—?!
Like Dazai—?!
“Or should I say ‘when I started dying’, perhaps?”
Chuuya stares at her with blown eyes, hearing every word but understanding none of it.
“When you… huh?”
“It’s an old story, lad.”
Less amused but without letting her smile falter when met with Chuuya’s visibly expectant
eyes, Kouyou lets out a sigh.
“Many centuries ago, there were less humans around, not only here but everywhere around
the world. At the bottom of this hill, where there now is a town, there used to be only one hut,
and only two humans lived there.”
Even before she says it, something in Chuuya knows what the next words will be—
“Me and my lover.”
It’s what comes next that is not as easy for the boy to guess anymore.
“Then, it was only me for a while, and then…”
A smile more genuine, though somewhat sad, settles on Kouyou’s face, and the golden petals
around her seem to drift closer, shining warmer, almost as if trying to hug the spirit.
“Then, it was me and my daughter.”
The last statement makes Chuuya’s breathing halt for a second, because… Kouyou has—she
had a family?
And she’s here while they’re… where?
“However,” The woman continues, her voice trailing off again, more casual than baring the
emotions threaded into it out into the open. “I got sick while she was still very young and
then, one day while I was picking herbs on this hill, I died.”
…they’re sitting on her grave?
“But I couldn’t leave my daughter alone, so when Death came for me… I refused to give up
my soul to it.”
Chuuya blinks.
Then again.
“...you refused to Death?”
Another chuckle, though much darker and quieter, slips from Kouyou’s lips. “It was no less
surprised by it than you are now, lad. You see, humans never try to speak to It. Even when
they stay behind as ghosts, they never try to bargain for more than they can. I’d say it’s likely
because I was the first human to ever try it that Death agreed to make a deal with me.”
She looks away for a moment, her gaze lingering on the small houses at the bottom of the hill
and the people walking between them, children playing in the snow and laughing…
“I said I had to look after my flesh and blood no matter what and… Death allowed it. It even
gave me the powers to protect my daughter.”
Then, Kouyou’s gaze comes back to Chuuya, not a single shadow of the past left in her eyes
– there’s only the present, the persistence that doesn’t waver under the weight of time.
“I’ll be honest with you, I only had my child in mind back then, but Death must have thought
it was more than that because It allows me to stay here so long as my bloodline lives on.”
Her bloodline?
So the people in the village are…
So there is at least one of Kouyou’s descendants among them? Even after all those years?
But isn’t she as old as D—
“I can sense a dangerous thought from you, lad.”

Chuuya’s back straightens on instinct, while Dazai hides his grin behind his cup, his eye
flashing red. “He isn’t wrong, lethal flower~”
Side–glancing at Dazai, Kouyou narrows her eyes at him. “Careful there, fox.”
“So…” Chuuya looks between the two, somewhat nervous about the words that leave his
throat. “...you didn’t die in the end?”
The spirit eyes Dazai for a second more before relaxing her features and looking back at
Chuuya. And this time, her expression is bright, her tone light, almost dismissive if not for
the single, melancholic note ringing through it.
“Oh, no. I most definitely died. I am still in the process of it.”
…huh?
“Once Death places its mark on someone, by the laws of this world, it cannot be undone and
such a person cannot escape it. I have that mark on me and should Death ever decide to take
me away…”
It can.
It will.
And no one would be able to stop it.
“But that’s a grim path for the conversation to go down.”
With one elegant move of her hand, Kouyou takes out her fan again and opens it without a
single sound. She smiles from behind it, making Chuuya feel out of place for feeling worried
about her when—
“My past is one of the reasons your husband and I are now acquaintances, though.”
Next to her, Dazai offers a small nod, surprisingly willing to show his agreement without
trying to deny any part of it.
It does make sense when Chuuya thinks of it. Both of them ‘died’ and stayed behind when it
shouldn’t be possible, but—
“You told her about…?”
—he never thought Dazai would share that part of his life with Kouyou. They don’t seem
close enough, at least not to Chuuya. Or rather – they don’t seem close enough in that way, in
a way in which they would reveal their secrets to each other.
To him, what exists between Kouyou and Dazai is mutual understanding and respect, mutual
past but… not vulnerability.
Again, Dazai’s ear flickers. “No. She already knew it when we met for the first time.”
“I can see Death and its paths.” The spirit explains. “This fox reeked of it when we met, there
was no way for me to not know about it.” When Chuuya’s brows furrow again at the first part
of it, Kouyou adds… “Such is a gift that comes with bearing its mark.”
“She also wasn’t very subtle about it back then.” Dazai sighs, his voice dripping with tease.
“The lethal flower of those days was much different from—”
“So were you.” Kouyou cuts in, and her gaze is enough to make Chuuya tense up even when
it’s not him she’s looking at. “Or should I also mention the blood–soaked field we met at?”
“...” Dazai’s tails stir all around him. “It won’t work. Chuuya already knows about my past.”
“From you. Not from those around you.”
“It makes no difference.”
“Oh, but it does.”
“It—”
“Right…” Chuuya says absent–mindedly, putting all the new information together the best he
can.
That was… a lot Chuuya didn’t expect, both from Kouyou and Dazai.
He suspected there would be a reason as to why they keep in touch despite the sharp remarks,
and why she is one of the few demons and spirits Dazai is willing to trust. But he thought it
would be a… lighter reason.
Something maybe more normal, for once in this crazy life.
Although… Can anything be really called normal when yōkai and gods and Death are
involved in everything that happens to them?
Perhaps it’s time Chuuya accepts the fact that nothing will ever feel normal to him again.
…or that Dazai will always find a way to throw him off out of nowhere—
“Now that that’s out of the way…” Before Chuuya realises it, Dazai is already standing up
from the ground. One of his tails brushes the redhead’s arm, his smirk softening into an, oh,
so innocent smile. “...I’ll leave you two for a bit~”
Kouyou waves her hand without bothering to look at him, unconcerned about the fox’s antics,
but Chuuya…
“Huh?” Not that the redhead minds being left alone with Kouyou, but… “Why? Where are
you going?”
The kitsune soothes Chuuya’s confusion with another brush of fur against skin, the tip of his
tail wrapping around the boy’s wrist and giving it a weak squeeze.
“I have an overdue conversation with someone.”
Conversation?
With… is it Mori?
There was something the god said the last time they saw him – it’s been so long, hasn’t it? –
something about him and Dazai having a ‘talk’, but Chuuay doesn’t know what it was about
exactly. Dazai never told him and, frankly, Chuuya forgot about it himself – he never asked.
Until now, that is. But he doubts the fox would be willing to share it in this instant, while
Kouyou is here to listen and he’s already getting ready to leave.
However, there is something that makes him more confused than anything else and that is…
“You waited to go until now just to… hear the story?”
Didn’t Dazai already know it?
Or is he like Chuuya and he forgot about what Mori said, much like the redhead forgot about
meaning to ask Kouyou about herself?
In that sense, Dazai would be even worse than him. Sure, it took Chuuya a few months to
finally ask the question but the last time Dazai and Mori saw each other was over two years
ago. Almost three, soon enough.
Could it have been on purpose?
Could it be that… whatever it is, Dazai isn't sure whether he wants to hear it—
“Ah, not at all.” A red glint swirls in Dazai’s eye, his fangs flashing in a smirk. “I waited so I
could see Chuuya’s baffled expression when he hears it~”
Excuse him?
“You bas—!”
“I’ll be back soon~”
Blue fire rises around him, and then the fox is gone.
All that’s left is Kouyou’s light chuckle accompanying Chuuya’s stunned face and the
betrayal he feels in his chest. Anger stirs in his gut once again, his fingers itching with black
sparkles.
“Ah, shall we continue now that you feel better?” Kouyou asks, and…
“...I’ll kill him one day.”
That is, of course, only if the training doesn’t kill Chuuya first.
“Ah, do let me know beforehand, lad. I wouldn't want to miss it.”
Chapter End Notes
Yep, folks, we're getting Dazai and Mori talk next FINALLY
Untold Stories
Chapter Notes
For a god, a human year is nothing.
While in his palace, Mori can’t even be sure how many days pass because the moons that
look over his domain never set, the sun never rises, and yet—
He knows.
He knows it’s been over two year since the redheaded human woke up, two years since Dazai
left with his husband. He assumes the two of them are enjoying their time together, finally
being able to live free of worries. He also knows the human made his choice, Mori felt it
when it happened – a breeze of a new life coming to be, an existence like no other – and he’s
happy for them. He truly is.
It’s not like he’s in a hurry, he has told Dazai that he would tell him the truth the next time
they saw each other and he means to keep his promise, whenever that time will come. It’s
just…
Will there even be a next time?
The kitsune got his answer, even if it wasn’t the full one, even if there is still so much Dazai
doesn’t know.
He isn’t his young, curiously persistent self anymore. At home, away from here, Dazai has a
husband, has his friends and everything he has worked for himself for the past few centuries
– what if he doesn’t care about the past neither of them can change anymore? What if he isn’t
all that interested in it, now that he has something to look forward to instead of looking back?
It’s a possibility, Mori knows it. Deep down, he wishes it won’t become one but if it does –
so be it. It’s Dazai’s choice, not his. Mori has already spent centuries keeping the truth hidden
in his heart, there’s no point in trying to force it out anymore—
But maybe Fate has different plans for him.
“...”
Maybe a half–answer wasn’t enough for Dazai, after all.
Looking up from the scrolls filled with prayer scattered around the low table, Mori watches
the black door at the end of the huge room, listening to what rings beyond them. He can hear
Yumeno’s excited giggles, Hirotsu’s voice and…
A fox’s unhurried footsteps.

It took Dazai two years to come back.
A whole two years.
Only two years—
Knock knock!
Letting out a sigh, Mori puts down the scroll he’s been working through and waves his hand
at the doors, opening them from where he’s sitting without having to move. He’s done the
same gesture more times than he can count but, somehow, this time it’s making him nervous.
There’s too little time for him to consider what to say, which face to make, or what to expect.
But once the doors stand open, there is no more time for hesitation – surely enough, Hitorsu
and Dazai wait on the other side of it.
Despite how the kitsune warmed up to being here during the four years he was looking over
the sleeping redhead, there’s still a wary hint in his eyes. A single note of feeling out of place
keeping his body more tense than it needs to be, than it has ever needed to be – not that Dazai
knows it.
Hirotsu, unaware of the real purpose of Dazai’s visit and Mori’s internal struggle if anyone
asked, but observant enough to understand that something is going on, only bows his head
briefly before stepping to the side to allow the fox inside.
He’s always been wise, Hirotsu. It’s one of the reasons why Mori made him his guardian
spirit. Strength and loyalty are one thing, but a fool – or worse, someone who doesn’t know
their place – cannot be given this much trust.
As he watches Dazai step inside and the doors close behind him, Mori wonders to himself—
How much does Hirotsu actually know?
How much did he guess while serving here and having seen all of it unfold?
“Dazai–kun.”
Mori greets him with a well–trained smile, gesturing for the kitsune to take a seat opposite to
him. As if on their own, the scrolls fold themselves back to drift somewhere next to the table,
stacking up in a pile at the same time a cushion appears right where Mori’s hand is gesturing.
“How kind of you to visit so soon.”
Dazai watches it, seemingly indifferent at first, but then he kitsune nods and walks closer. “I
said I would.”
Well, he didn’t say he wouldn’t come back, which, for Dazai, may as well be the same as
saying that he will.
“And Chuuya–kun?” The god asks.
“He’s with Kouyou, getting accustomed to his… new situation.” Sitting down, Dazai cocks
his head to the side, one eye slightly narrowed as he looks at the god. “But I assume you
know about it already, don’t you?”
Someone had to tell Chuuya about the choice he was offered and, considering how even
Dazai couldn’t sense the potential just sitting there, the only person who could be aware of it
was Mori.
But Dazai’s tone isn’t accusing. It isn’t aggressive, or hostile – his words are merely a
statement, nothing else.
“I do.” The god agrees. “I’m glad it turned out this way.”
He’s happy for Dazai at the very least. For Chuuya… he only wishes the boy won’t break
under the weight of the burden he has decided to bear along with all of them. He wishes the
best for both of them but… it may prove to be hard at times.
Dazai gives him another nod, then… “Are we really bothering with formalities even now?”
At heart, Mori hoped they would. Because while he meant what he said last time, about
offering to explain everything there is to explain – right now, he isn't sure if he’s ready to do
it anymore.
Ready to reveal the truth he never had the right to hide.
Ready for how Dazai will react.
“...” But Mori can already hear Fukuzawa’s words echoing inside his head, telling him not to
make the same mistake twice or he may never get another chance. “...if you have anything to
ask, you are free to do so, Dazai–kun.”
And Dazai doesn’t even wait another second before—
“Why did you save me back then?”
That one Mori was actually ready for. “Healing those, who I stumble upon is a part of who I
am, remember? That’s what I was brought into existence for.”
…among other more unimportant things that they are both aware of.
Dazai narrows his eye again, patient and ready to ask as many questions as it takes to get the
answers he came for. “How did you know where I was? I was never one of your subjects.”
Back then, Dazai didn’t even know who Mori was.

He never cared about any of the gods.
“Gods see many things, both within and outside of our own domain.”
It’s walking on thin ice, Mori knows it and he can see that Dazai can feel it, too. He’s getting
suspicious, rightfully so, but he doesn’t show it just yet. Instead—
“How did you save me?”
Now, that is a question that Mori has been dreading, because this is where everything begins
between them – and where everything may end if he’s not careful.
“...I didn’t save you.” Not really. Not in the sense Dazai means. “I healed you.”
If Mori had left him in the state Dazai was after Shibusawa ‘killed’ him… It would have been
a painful existence, incredibly painful. Far beyond what any living creature should be made
to endure.
But would Dazai have died eventually? That the god isn’t so sure about.
It’s possible that someone else would have finished what Shibusawa started, but… with a
drop of Mori’s essence in him, Dazai would have been able to hold onto life for a while
longer. It simply wouldn’t be a life worth living for a demon like him. Nor a long one, for
that matter.
The red light in Dazai’s eyes shines brighter through the dark orb. “That’s a lie.”
But Mori doesn’t waver under his gaze. “It isn’t.”
“Destroying one’s hoshi no tama kills a kitsune immediately.”
And while that is true—
“It wouldn’t have worked.” Mori says, calm but, even if only for a split second, hesitant.
“Not with you.”
It’s followed by silence.
Silence thick with disbelief and mistrust, with the kitsune searching for every lie and every
half–truth he expects to be given – and he finds none, no matter how carefully he looks for it.
That’s when Mori sees as the restraints holding Dazai back from believing his words slowly
start to let go, his mind reluctantly accepting what has just been said.
Accepting, but not quite believing just yet.
Of course not, Dazai has no reason to take his word for it.
There are only so many ways to kill a kitsune and those rules have been set in the world by
the forces that don’t know of mercy, only of order. It’s only common sense to be wary of
even the slightest assumption that, somehow, those rules could potentially be broken.
The god can see Dazai thinking his words over and over again, letting them sink as he’s
trying to understand and find the answer to it himself but—
“Why?”
—of course, he wouldn’t be able to.
Not without that one detail that Mori has been holding back from him his entire life.
Dazai can sense that the god is choosing not to say something. He could always sense it, even
when he was a young demon, but he chose not to dig too deep into what exactly the god was
hiding.
Something in Dazai wanted to know the truth.
Something in him didn’t care.
And something… felt weirdly at peace with not knowing.
It was this part of him that, for a reason the fox couldn't grasp, knew that whatever secret it
may have been, it wouldn't be anything harmful to him.
Being around Mori never came easy. There was always this internal struggle that Dazai
couldn’t ignore no matter how much he wanted to. A fight between hating the god and
feeling weirdly at peace around him, between wishing to stay away and hoping to find
answers —
The same answers Dazai can see Mori has.
He sees it in the god’s eyes, the fight that mirrors his own, raging behind a veil of red–dark
eyes.
They always irked Dazai, Mori’s eyes. Because sometimes he feels like they hold all the
answers and yet—
Yet, the kitsune can’t see them.
He can’t understand what he’s supposed to see in them.
But it’s there, right outside of his reach—
“Dazai–kun.”
When Mori finally speaks again, it lacks the authority the god rarely ever lets go of, it lacks
the wisdom and confidence he prides himself in. It’s a voice Dazai hasn’t heard in… a long
time.
Probably since his first days here.
“Just… try to stay calm and let me explain first, please?”

—
It’s afternoon by the time Chuuya feels at his limit, his body refusing to move even an inch
from where he’s slumped against a tree. Taking pity on him, Kouyou offers Chuuya tea and a
snack the redhead doesn’t recognise but doesn’t have the strength to ask about. They sit on
the soft snow and continue talking as the sun sets over the horizon, hours passing by…
It’s only once the stars light up the dark sky above them and the evening turns into night that
Chuuya starts to get a weird feeling about it.
He’s too tired to feel properly angry at the fox, or annoyed, and while he can’t go back on his
own, he could ask Kouyou to send him back. He wants a bath – he needs one – and he’d
much rather rest on their futon than on the snow, no matter how beautiful the sight of the
night, or how interesting his conversation with Kouyou is.
If Dazai won’t find him here, he’ll know Chuuya is home.
But something keeps the redhead from doing that. The longer Dazai doesn’t come back, the
more Chuuya feels like, once the fox does come back, he may need Chuuya to be here. He
simply isn’t sure why, yet.
And just as the redhead thought—
When midnight rolls around, Dazai returns and something feels off.
He’s silent as his figure appears out of the blue flames, his gaze distant. Out of habit – and
because he is feeling a bit petty – Chuuya scowls when he first sees him, but the kitsune
doesn’t try to talk his way out of it. He doesn’t try to brush it off, or sweet–talk himself into
Chuuya’s forgiveness, he’s just… there.
Lost in wherever his mind wanders, waiting for the redhead to decide what he wants to do,
his tails unmoving and his ears slightly lowered over the dark hair.
Chuuya and Kouyou exchange looks, neither of them sure what to make of it and neither
commenting on Dazai's strange behaviour. They say their goodbyes as always, and Chuuya
eyes the kitsune with both concern and confusion stirring in his mind before he comes closer.
It was Chuuya’s plan to make the fox pay for his trick from before and only hold onto his
clothes and they get back, refusing any other displays of affection until the redhead is
satisfied with his payback – but right now, with Dazai like this, Chuuya doesn’t fight it when
an arm comes to rest on his back. Or when one of Dazai’s tails wraps around his wrist.
And when they get home…
“...is everything okay?”

Dazai remains silent, searching Chuuya’s eyes before offering a nod as a response, a gesture
the redhead doesn’t believe for even a second.
For some reason, Dazai got them back directly to their room instead of the garden, which
wouldn’t make much of a difference to Chuuya on most days. But tonight he’s drenched in
sweat and there is snow melting off from his clothes, and now he’ll have to clean the room
after the bath even though he did it just yesterday.
Out of all the days, Dazai had to pick the most inconvenient one to act like this, of course.
But Chuuya will scold him for it later, because—
Something is obviously wrong, even if the kitsune refuses to say it.
He doesn’t seem hurt physically and Chuuya has learnt that sometimes it’s better to give
Dazai space, trusting the fox to speak up when he’s ready.
“...right.”
Which he doesn’t seem like right now.
He’s too stubborn to say whatever is on his mind while also looking too pitiful for Chuuya to
feel angry, or to force Dazai to say it.
However, the redhead has learnt quite a few tricks during his time among demons and he
does not feel bad about using them to his advantage. Sure, he could try to persuade the
kitsune to open up, or ask question after question until Dazai slips. Or he could wait and deal
with the sulking kitsune until he can’t take it anymore. Or—
“I’ll go take a bath, then.”
—or, Chuuya can play it like he doesn’t care about whether Dazai opens up to him, or not,
because if it really is something serious, he won’t be let go of.
And just as Chuuya thought, right as he’s about to turn around and walk away, Dazai’s tail
stops him, silently asking for the redhead to stay.
The way the fox continues not to say anything is starting to reshape Chuuya’s worry into faint
irritation, impatience making him arch a brow at the unspoken request. Dazai isn’t usually
like this, especially not recently, and Chuuya has trouble with holding himself back. He could
at least tell him what happened.
Did the conversation wasn’t what he expected?
Did something happen with Mori?
But then, Dazai pulls Chuuya closer. It’s not quite a hug – it’s only his hand that holds onto
Chuuya’s, shy fingers around his wrist – but close enough for him to rest his chin on top of
the boy’s head.
“...Dazai?”
Nothing.
Chuuya bites his lip and takes a deep breath, calming the urge to demand an explanation.
“Osamu?”
“Chuuya should stay.” Dazai says, even his voice ringing as if spoken from a place far away,
and not from merely a few inches over Chuuya’s head.
It makes the redhead frown. “It’s just a bath.”
“It can wait.”
Clearly.
“Okay but…?”
“I need to think for a bit.” The fox murmurs the words into the dark of the night, his whispers
loud in the silence all around, and it doesn’t feel like he’s talking to Chuuya, but more like
he’s saying that to… himself.
—a few hours earlier—
A loud sound of the doors slamming against the walls isn’t what Hirotsu expected, and
especially not so soon after they’ve barely just closed, but the man remains unfazed where he
stands. He’s surprised, that’s for sure, but…
During his time here, he’s seen a lot.
Hear even more.
So the sight of Dazai’s dark aura surrounds the kitsune as he walks down the long hallway
without a single word, never looking back, doesn’t worry him too much. If anything, it feels
somewhat nostalgic.
Just like the good, old days.
Well… something along these lines, anyway.
Stepping forward, Hirotsu faces the open door and looks at the god left alone at the wide
table—
“Should I send a message to Fukuzawa–sama, Mori–sama?”
—present time—
“...did you do something again?” Chuuya asks after a while of neither of them moving or
uttering a word.
Unlike any other time, Dazai doesn’t pretend to be hurt over these words. His tails remain
calm, his voice levelled into a shallow tease that lacks its usual colours.
“Why would Chuuya think I did something?”
And Chuuya could be nice about it, he could be the reassuring and polite type he is with
everyone else, or… “Because you’re acting like it.” Or he could be honest, and that’s exactly
what he does.
A pause.
Then…
“Maybe it was Mori–san that did something, hm?”
So it was Mori that Dazai went to see. At least one prediction Chuuya got right, even if
everything else remains a mystery, starting with what exactly Dazai and the god talked about.
He can’t possibly imagine what must have been said, or done, to have the kitsune come back
like this after hours of having Chuuya wait for him. But if there is one thing that he does
know—
It’s Dazai.
Chuuya knows his habits and patterns better than the redhead knows himself.
A sigh. “You don’t care enough about what others do to you. You only act like this when
you’re sulking over your own actions.”
Which doesn’t happen often these days but Chuuya has seen it enough times in the past to
engrave the kind of expression Dazai makes whenever it happens into his memory. He
recognises the long face, the pending guilt. He knows when Dazai feels displeased with
himself, even if the reason for it remains unclear.
“...” One of the fox’s tails pokes Chuuya’s side. “How mean.”
But he isn’t denying anything, is he?
“So… what did you do?”
“...nothing.”
Sure. Because it absolutely sounds like ‘nothing’.
However, before Chuuya’s words can follow the roll of his eyes, Dazai beats him to it.
“That’s the problem.” The fox murmurs, sounding defeated. “I didn’t do anything. I just…
left.”
Without a word.
Without listening.
Without waiting for the full explanation.
And then he spent hours sitting around one of his favourite spots, on an island far from
anyone’s sight, thinking over what little he got from Mori, before he realised Chuuya was
still waiting for him with Kouyou. Dazai hoped the redhead was waiting for him, anyway –
and he was right.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he acted like his younger self would.
Like someone Dazai is not anymore.
Or so he believes.
Despite the distant voice and Dazai’s clearly troubled mind, Chuuya can’t stop the snort that
escapes him at the fox’s words.
“I see.” Resting his hand on his hips, Chuuya cocks his head to the side as he looks up to
meet Dazai’s gaze, an amused smirk stretching his lips. “That sounds like something you’d
do.”
Chuuya’s light tone chases some of Dazai’s darkness away, making the kitsune’s lips lift
slightly at the corners. “How cruel, to be laughing at your husband’s misery.”
“Oh, no. Poor, sulking fox.”
“A short, angry Chibi~”
It earns him a pointed glare, the air around Chuuya’s fingers warming up, but then the
redhead lets out a sigh and…
“It’s really not that hard, you know?”
When the kitsune doesn’t answer and only raises a brow, both ears straightening up, curious,
Chuuya shrugs.
“Just go back and try again.”
As expected, Dazai blinks at him. “...what?”
“Go back and try again. Which part did you not understand? I still need to take a bath and
then clean the mess on the floor, you can take your time.”
“...now?”
Chuuya shrugs again and huffs a laugh at the baffled expression on Dazai’s face. “Why not?
The longer you wait, the more excuses you’ll come up with not to go.”
It wouldn’t surprise him if that was Dazai’s plan all along, and by the looks of it – it was.
As Chuuya turns around to walk out of the room, he waves dismissively his hand at the fox,
looking at him over his shoulder.
“You can tell me how it went later. Or you can stay, sulk and clean the floor for me,
whichever you prefer.”
Just like that, Dazai is left staring blindly at the door sliding shut, alone in their room.
How can Chuuya make everything sound so simple when the matter is anything but that?
“...”
How can he sound so sure of himself and so… right?
This may be the fastest Dazai has ever come back here after leaving. It hasn't even been a full
day, only mere hours have passed since this sky and those walls saw him last.
It’s also the first time Dazai comes here without Hirotsu – did the man not notice his
presence, or is he choosing not to interfere? – quickly walking down the empty hallways
before he can change his mind about this and—
When he pushes the dark doors open, he sees two gods sitting at the wide table.
Mori and… Atsushi’s god?
However, it’s not Fukuzawa’s presence here that surprises the fox the most, it’s the way Mori
looks right now. Those who don’t know the god wouldn’t be able to notice it, but… Dazai
does.
His usually well kept hair, always either in a low ponytail or a long braid, falls freely over his
shoulders and face. It’s not too tousled but it’s the most unkempt Dazai has ever seen it be.
The god’s eyes seem dark, empty, only lighting up with surprise when he meets the kitsune’s
gaze.
It may only be for a heartbeat that Mori looks lost but it happens and that, in turn, makes
something inside Dazai twist.
Without showing any signs of being bothered by the sudden intrusion, Fukuzawa stands up
from his seat—
“...I shall take my leave now.”
—and the next second, he’s gone, faded with the shadows dancing around the room.
And together with the other god, Mori’s carelessness retreats, too, hiding behind a mask of
surprise.
Mori doesn’t try to proper up his hair, he only straightens his back and puts on the same
expression he always wears – composed, unreadable and… distant. An expression carefully
crafted to show no weakness. To anyone.
“How can I help you, Dazai–kun?”
His tone irks the kitsune somewhere deep, so irritatingly different front he tone he was using
before.
Dazai comes closer, the red in his eye never dimming. He stares the god down, his ears and
tails unnaturally still, as he forces his breathing to remain calm when—
“You had no right to hide it from me.”
Mori doesn’t flinch, doesn’t avert his gaze – it’s only his voice that grows quieter. “...I
didn’t.”
Then, there’s only thick silence stretching between them. There’s no apology, the god doesn’t
even know if Dazai would accept it or not. He fully expects the kitsune to walk away again,
be it with or without any further comments.
What he doesn’t expect, however, is for Dazai to close his eyes and… sit down.
Mori’s eyes widen slightly as he watched the fox. “...Dazai–kun?”
“You can finish what you were saying now.” When Dazai’s eye opens again – it’s dark, the
crimson rage tamed away in the far corner of his mind. “Just don’t drag it out any longer than
it needs to be.”
He has Chuuya to get back to after all.
Mori’s lips part, then close again as a shy smile climbs to the god’s face, his gaze softening
and filled with hope once again.
“As you wish…”
Then, history comes alive.
A memory follows a memory, finally spoken out into the world as the kitsune listens to
everything. Some parts fit in place for the first time ever, some of the odd feelings he would
get from Mori in the past finally make sense.
There’s anger at the root of it still, even if it doesn’t rage as it did before, frustration Dazai
feels within himself for never noticing the signs, or thinking nothing of them.
He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about what Mori is saying. It’s too soon, too
much to comprehend after ages of thinking he hated the god – that he should hate him – after
mere six years of having grown accepting of him.
But no matter how conflicted and torn Dazai feels, one thing can be said for sure: this is the
most honest Mori has ever been with him.
No held back secrets.
No half–truths spoken to cover up the lies.
Once he’s done, there is no expectation in Mori’s eyes, only relief after a weight has finally
been lifted from his shoulders, and Dazai…
He doesn’t need anyone to look after him, never has.
He has his family now, with Chuuya, he should just let the past stay in the past. It’s not like
he can blame Mori for everything that has happened in his life until now just because Dazai
exists because of him.
There’s no need to act any differently.
No need to seek out what Dazai has never looked for.
And yet—
“Why didn’t you do it again?”
To think that no matter what he’s done, or how lonely his existence was, there has always
been someone watching out for him… it’s weird. It makes him feel something Dazai doesn’t
understand, and isn’t trying to.
He looks right into Mori’s eyes, baffled by his own words just as much as the god in front of
him must be.
“If having company was what you wanted, you could have made another one.”
Because if what Moru said is true, his wish was never truly fulfilled. The whole reason Dazai
exists, the reason why he came to this world – it never came to what it was meant to.
The expression Mori offers him is delicate, fragile among the unfairness of the words the god
speaks. “Gods shouldn’t seek to have families in the first place.”
One way or another… it never ends well.
“So I didn’t, either.”

He sounds tired but when the kitsune asks again—
“Do you regret it?”
—Mori smiles at him.
“No.” The god says, and it’s a voice of a long gone memory from when Dazai first woke up
to a hand resting over his head. “I have never regretted it.”
Mori’s only regret was keeping it a secret for this long.
Dazai considers it for what feels like hours, silent as his thoughts and emotions try to fit
together again, but it’s hard. Eventually, the fox stands up, Mori’s gaze following his every
move but not stopping him in any way.
“Is that so?” Letting out a sigh, Dazai straightens out his clothes again. “Good for you, then.”
Mori’s shoulders sag barely visibly, his expression both relieved and… accepting of the
defeat.
“Is there anything else?”
“...no.”
“Well, then.”
Dazai turns around, nine white tails swaying lazily as he walks to the door again—
“I’ll be back another time.”
Mori can’t help the way his eyes widen, lips parting and any and all thoughts fading from his
mind together with his usual composure. “Huh?”
“You heard me.” Without looking back, Dazai waves his hand at the god over his shoulder.
“Until next time, Mori–san.”
He’s gone, once more.
But this time, it’s not in a fit of rage, not out of hatred – it’s to take a breath, a step back to
think about everything – and it’s not forever.
Only when the fox’s figure disappears from his sight, does Mori allow himself a shy, hopeful
smile to bloom on his lips and in his chest, a feeling he never knew he could experience, let
alone hold onto and cherish.
But now, he can.
Maybe he’ll need to learn how, maybe they both will, but… so be it.
“...until next time, young fox.”

—
Of course, Dazai left.
That was to be expected.
What Chuuya finds more interesting – and positively surprising – is that the kitsune wiped
the water from the melted snow from the floor before doing so.
It was a sloppy job and Chuuya can see the spots Dazai missed or left only half–wiped, but
it’s still more than he expected from the kitsune. The fox not only doesn’t like doing chores
around the house, he’s also not that good at them, which is something Chuuya could tell from
the very beginning.
But at least he tried, right?
Just this once, Chuuya can let it slide.
Shaking his head, the boy takes one of the towels he keeps around the room and cleans all the
spots that still need it, then he throws it into the basket in the corner of the room to be washed
later.
His hair is wet after a bath, soaking the towel on his shoulders. Chuuya doesn’t particularly
mind sleeping like this, he does it quite often, but… looking out the window and into the
darkness of the night, Chuuya bites the inside of his cheek.
Should he wait for Dazai to come back?
Will the fox need it?
But it could take him another few hours and Chuuya wasn’t exaggerating about feeling tired.
The futon seems to be calling for him, every muscle in his body giving in to that pull. It’s not
like he explicitly told Dazai he’d wait for him, either.
“...”
Wiping a lone drop of water trailing down his neck, Chuuya turns away from the window and
walks to the futon, sitting down on it.
He’ll wait for a bit, just so he can say he was trying to be a good husband.
Stretching out his legs, Chuuya leans back on both hands, his muscles relaxing after a long
day. Maybe he’ll make himself a tea while he waits and he’ll stay up for as long as he drinks
it – it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, does it?
…but it would require Chuuya to move, and the redhead really doesn’t feel like it right now.
Letting out a sigh, Chuuya lets his gaze wander around the room without a single thought
behind it. He follows the patterns on the wooden panels to keep himself busy and makes
mental notes of the things he’ll need to do in the next few days, of the supplies he’ll need to
buy from the village on the other side of the mountain.
He also needs to think of a way to thank Kouyou for everything she has done and is doing for
them, and that is the most difficult part of it all, because he has no idea what to give her.
Would Dazai know? Probably not.
Gin, Ryuu? Maybe.
…Yosano?
Dazai seems to still hold some sort of a grudge when it comes to the doctor, but uncle Adam
and Ranpo are close and Ranpo is Chuuya’s friend, too, so it wouldn’t be too out of the blue
for him to visit the clinic—
“...”
Not for the first time and not for the last time – the same old, wooden box draws Chuuya’s
gaze to it, making the boy feel like an intruder in his own house.
He should just put it away once and for all.
Or—
Forcing his body to move, Chuuya crawls away from the futon and to the small box. He’s too
tired to care about which answer lies inside, to care about getting disappointed with what
awaits him. Whatever happens – at least he won’t have to clutter his mind with endless
worries and unmet expectations anymore.
There’s some uneasiness to his moves, his fingers twitching nervously as he takes the box in
both hands. His heart feels heavy, the air in his lungs not enough—
It’s dark.
Both in the room and inside the box.
Of course, it is.
But… It's not the same as the last time Chuuya looked inside – it’s not all dark.
Chuuya’s heart seems to slow down in his chest, his eyes slowly widening as he tries to make
sense of what he’s seeing. There’s a faint spark lighting up from the centre of the flower, its
rays lighting up the glass–like petals from within, but only at their base.
It’s nowhere near as bright as it used to be, even when Chuuya takes the flower in one hand
and the petals meet his skin. The contact causes another spark to light up, the flower’s light
glowing a tad brighter.
It’s not the same.
It’ll never be the same.
But—
Chuuya lets out a shaky breath, the knots in his throat and gut untangling as a warm sensation
washes over his body, a smile he can’t hold back stretching his lips as the redhead laughs to
himself.
—to Chuuya, it’s more than enough.
The second Chuuya’s head hits the pillow, he’s out.
It’s only much, much that the ache in his muscles lets go and his mind starts to drift on the
border of sleep and wakefulness. He’s warm under the comforter, the sounds coming from far
away like a lullaby that shushes him back to sleep…
But there’s also a sound coming from much closer.
Someone’s heartbeat and breathing.
Ah, right…
It’s lazy when Chuuya’s eyes flutter open, half–lidded as his sight focuses. There’s a
bandaged chest that greets him, the dark kimono loosened. There’s also the feeling of at least
one tail weighing on Chuuya over the comforter. When he tilts his head back, Dazai’s eyes
look back at him, peaceful over a lazy smile, his head propped on one arm.
“Good morning~” The fox chirps.
So… everything is okay now?
“Morning.” Chuuya mumbles, yawning.
“Well, actually, it’s the afternoon already.”
The redhead isn’t even surprised, he did say he could sleep for days. “You said it first.”
“Because I like saying it to my husband when he wakes up~”

Chuuya narrows his eyes, his mind waking up more and more. “You’re back to normal, huh?”
A hum. “What does Chuuya define as my ‘normal’?”
“Annoying.” The boy huffs, but it lacks the bite. “And overly clingy first thing in the
morning.”
Dazai’s lips twitch around a smirk. “It’s the afternoon.”
“Whatever. It’s morning for me.”
“Someone is lazy~”
“And someone else was being a brat yesterday.” Chuuya bites back, satisfied with the way
Dazai’s ears flicker. “Does that mean you apologised?”
The fox snorts. “I did no such thing.”
“Fine, does that mean you talked things out with him?”
At that, Dazai takes a deep inhale, his free hand coming to brush Chuuya’s arm as the fox
thinks his answer over. Chuuya isn't sure what to make of the wait but he isn’t awake enough
to worry about it too much.
“For the most part,” Dazai says eventually. “I think so.”
Turning to lie on his back, Chuuya stretches his arms over his head, his back arching off the
futon. “Care to share?”
Silence answers him, and when the boy trunks his head to look at him—
“Eventually, yes.”
Dazai’s smile is apologetic. Shy, even.
“After I digest it myself.”
Well, that’s fair.
It also causes Chuuya’s curiosity to spike all of a sudden, and he has to bite his lip not to ask
more questions now that he knows there’s something worth asking about. But he stops
himself, he’ll be patient – they have more than enough time to unravel all the secrets without
rushing into the waters they aren’t ready to cross.
Letting out a satisfied sigh when his body relaxes, Chuuya blinks himself awake. “Works for
me.”
He doesn’t feel like getting up, though. They aren’t doing anything special today – and the
day is mostly behind them, anyway.
“Ah, just so you know—”

Dazai raises his eyebrows at him in a silent question, one of his ears flopped on the side over
the tousled hair.
“—I did try staying up to wait for you but you were taking too damn long.”
Dazai blinks.
Then again.
Then his shoulders start to shake as a chuckle rips from his chest, another tail coming to lay
over Chuuya’s body.
“Ah, yes. What a loving husband I have here. I don’t think I deserve him~”
Chuuya would say he does.
Some people, dead or alive, would say the fox doesn’t deserve any of it.
But none of it matters, not really. Because everyone may say what they might, but the fact
remains all the same, through all the ups and downs that may fall upon them—
Be it with a smile or an annoyed scowl, whenever Dazai comes home, Chuuya is always
there, waiting for him.
“...shut up.”
Chapter End Notes
Damn, I'm on a roll with those updates ;3

All As It Should Be
Chapter Notes
—meanwhile, during the past few years—
No matter how much time passes, there are some things Sigma will never understand no
matter how patient he thinks himself to be. And, for the most part, he doesn’t even try
anymore. There’s no point in any of it when he knows for sure that he’s doomed to fail.
It’s pointless to try to figure out what goes on in Nikolai’s head, or where the bakeneko gets
all of his extremely questionable game ideas from, or—
“You really are a weird human.”
—how every single demon he lives with seems to have a rather, to put it politely, unique way
of thinking, or making conversations, or just spending time in general. Sigma doesn’t
understand what kind of weird luck it is that he has, but he also doesn’t fight it anymore.
Nodding to himself, more as a habit rather than an actual answer, Sigma continues folding
their laundry without feeling too bothered by the… statement?
Accusation?
Compliment?
“Thanks.” He says absent–mindedly. “Did I do something specific to earn that title, Jouno–
san?”
It’s been a long while since the four wolves started living with them.
It was tense at first, but Sigma can’t blame them. He’s vaguely aware of what happened at
that time, he has heard a few stories here and there, and he understands that they needed time
to heal, both physically and mentally, before things could start working out between the
seven of them.
It took a long time for them to live out their grief and even longer for Jouno to stop growling
every time Tachihara was around. Teruko was quiet when they first got here but, as weeks
passed by, she was the first one to open up to living here, with Fyodor and with everyone
else. And, which Sigma finds a little concerning, she and Nikolai have become good friends
since then.
They’re both equally as cheerful, equally as… not quite sane, even if Teruko is still better
than the cat in that regard. From what Sigma knows, she used to feel responsible for the other
three wolves when Fyodor wasn’t around and that responsibility must have tired her out over
the centuries, which is most likely why now that there isn’t anything for her to watch over,
she can let herself act more freely and, well, more crazy.
All things considered, Sigma thinks it’s a good thing for her and for Nikolai. The cat finally
has someone that will actually go along with his games and won’t be too endangered by
them.
More often than not, Tachihara gets dragged into their schemes as well. He seems nowhere
near the same level of insanity as the other two but he’s surprisingly accommodating to the
situation. And maybe a little gullible, especially when it’s Teruko that teases him into
accepting whatever challenge she has planned for him. He used to be more reserved and
would avoid looking at the other wolves at any cost in the beginning but, as time went on, he
became more open.
Plus, even if he tends to go along with what Teruko or Nikolai ask of him, Sigma knows that
Tachihara will be the one to make sure their games don’t escalate too far.
Tetchou, on the other hand…
A lot of times, Sigma finds himself thinking he likes that one the most. He doesn’t cause
problems, even if he can’t always sit still in one place, and is quick to help whenever needed.
He’s quiet and easy to be around, which is something entirely new for Sigma, and even if he
does sometimes say things Sigma can’t understand the origins of – he’s a nice person, good
company.
They all live here together and even if it does get hectic at times, Sigma doesn’t mind. He
wouldn’t change it for anything else, now that he knows ‘lively’ and ‘peaceful’ can go in
pairs.
And ‘happiness’, too.
From the corner of his eye, Sigma can see a red tip of a white tail hovering over the floor
where the wolf sits, keeping the boy company or simply feeling bored and passing his time
with random conversations.
Jouno hum. “You were yourself, I suppose?”
“...right.”
“Doesn’t it get tiring?” The wolf asks, a quiet jingle of his earring ringing through the air.
Letting out a sigh, Sigma puts down one neatly folded piece of clothing and reaches for
another one. “You’ll have to be more specific about that if you want me to answer.”
If he means folding the laundry – then no.
If he means navigating through everyone’s thought process – then yes, sometimes.
Or if it’s about living here as a human—

“Doesn’t it get tiring, pretending that you don’t love Fyodor–san and the bakeneko?”
First of all, is he really still reluctant to call Nikolai by his name? Sure, they are very much
opposites when it comes to personalities, but it’s been years now. Why
“Why bother with it when it’s this obvious?”
And second of all—
Slowly, Sigma lowers his hands, turning his head to look at the white wolf with slightly
narrowed eyes. “...I could ask you the same thing, Jouno–san.”
Sigma may one be human living among demons much older than him but he isn’t stupid, nor
is he willing to go down without a fight.
“With Suehiro–san?”
Tilting his head to the side, Jouno hums, his tail stirring. “It’s not the same.”
Sigma, however, would beg to differ. He’s seen it enough times around the house in the past
years and listened to the two of them even more, and, sometimes, it’s physically painful not
to say anything about it.
So no, it is not different.
Not that Sigma is admitting to anything, of course.
“...how so?”
“Suehiro is an idiot who doesn’t realise his own feelings.” Jouno answers, sounding as if he’s
speaking the most obvious of truths. “I’m helping him understand it first before anything else
can happen.”
“...”
Does that mean Jouno… wants Tetchou to confess to him first? Is that the whole reason for
this charade?
“If you act on your own feelings, it will be faster, you know?”
Jouno’s lips stretch into a smirk, his fangs flashing with satisfaction. “I could say the same
about you, Sigma.”
Defeated by the wolf’s confident aura alone, Sigma lets his shoulders sag as he goes back to
folding their laundry to kill time. Everyone else has gone on their trips and to run errands, so
he can’t even tell Jouno to go bother someone else.
“It’s not that simple.” He mutters, side–glancing at the wolf.
“But it is?”
“...is not.”
“Why?”
His grip over the material in his hands tightens slightly as Sigma looks around them. He
knows there is no one else there, that it’s just Jouno and him, but…
Is it really okay to say it like this?
When Fyodor first told him how accurately Jouno can sense emotions no matter who it is, it
almost gave Sigma a heart attack. He’s pretty sure that’s precisely when the wolf figured it
out despite not knowing Sigma at all at the time. Having Jouno know how he’s feeling is
stressful enough, it’s putting Sigma on the spot while the boy was quite content with never
letting any of his feelings out, but until now the wolf at least has kept quiet about it.
Sigma thought it was out of indifference, or perhaps a kind of consideration towards the
human – apparently, he was wrong.
Has Jouno been waiting all this time for the best opportunity?
If so, why now?
It’s not like anything worth mentioning has happened in the past years. Their life has been
peaceful and Sigma likes to think he’s doing a good job at acting like there’s nothing that
makes it any less perfect than it seems to be. He likes this life, this house and everyone in it
—
He will be fine if everything stays that way, he doesn’t need to ask for more than enough.
“...it just isn’t.”
Another hum answers him.
Then—
“Do you know what else is different about my situation and yours, Sigma?”
The boy doesn’t answer. Even if Jouno can’t see the way Sigma’s brows rise in a silent
question, Sigma knows the wolf can still somehow sense it—
“It’s that I have all the time in the world to wait.”
—just like he can sense how Sigma’s body stiffens at this statement.
“And you do not.”
Sigma’s grip tightens even more, his lips pressed into a thin line as long strands fall around
his face. There’s so much he wants to say, so many words that push themselves to his lips—
But none of it makes it out into the world.

“So even if you think I’m wasting time with Suehiro, it’s still not as stupid as what you are
doing with them.”
There are always two sides of Jouno that Sigma sees.
The one that is polite, sometimes to the point of feeling distant, and the one that is cruelly
straightforward. He speaks his mind when he sees fit, and while it is a sign that he’s opened
up to Sigma, or so the human likes to believe, it doesn’t always come easy to be faced with
the truth so blatantly placed before him
Like now.
“...”
Silently, Sigma continues folding the piece of clothing crumbled in his hands. He puts it to
the side with the rest, but before he reaches for the next one, his voice finally makes it out
from his throat, however quiet it remains.
“...because I don’t want to choose.” He mumbles, looking to the side.
Even if there is no gaze to stare him down should he look up, he still feels too seen like this.
Too vulnerable. Bare.
Jouno’s brows raise slightly. “Choose?”
“I…” Sigma swallows around a lump forming in his throat. “I can’t choose one of them over
the other.”
He can’t love one of them more than he loves the other.
Fyodor, Nikolai… they’re both important to him in a way no one else ever could be. It’s them
that Sigma’s eyes search for, them that his heart longs for, it’s them that makes everything
feel right for the first time in… forever.
But he doesn’t know how to say it.
He doesn’t want to have to pick between two loves that fill his heart.
He can’t—
“Then don’t?” Somehow, Jouno sounds baffled, as if he doesn’t understand the problem
Sigma is struggling with. “Pick both, it’s simple.”
Blinking, Sigma looks up from his hands to the wolf. “...huh?”
“They both love you and they love each other, so why would that be a problem?”
It… should be? Probably? Or so Sigma thinks.

But now that Jouno says it like that, with a voice that doesn’t hesitate and makes the human
feel awkward about his own words, Sigma starts to question his own mind. When he first
realised his own feelings, many years ago, he assumed it was something he’ll have to keep to
himself, lest he hurts one of the people he cherishes by trying to choose.
This is what he has seen all around him during his time with other humans.
This is what he grew up believing, being told to believe—
A sigh. “You humans love creating problems for yourselves, don’t you?”
—but with Jouno in front of him, Sigma can’t find the words to defend that belief anymore.
He can’t find it in himself to find a reason for it, either.
Even if he’s still a human and humans need time to accept the changes they come across.
Sigma blink. “But that’s—”
“I’ll be away for a few days, so you can take your time.” The wolf says, standing up and
straightening out his clothes as his tail swings behind him. “They should be here any moment
now.”
They…?
Sigma’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat.
So soon?!
With a teasing grin and his tail swaying behind him, satisfied and maybe faintly happy, Jouno
flashes his fangs at the other man. “Good luck~”
Then, he’s gone.
But the peace and quiet doesn’t last long, no.
Sigma is still looking at where Jouno was standing just until a moment ago when he hears
footsteps approaching steps echoing inside the house, accompanied by quiet chuckles that
become more and more clear as the sounds get closer. One door sliding open somewhere
across the corridor, then another, then the one behind Sigma’s back…
“Sigma–kun~”
Nikolai’s arms drape over his shoulders, the bakeneko’s chin resting on top of Sigma’s head
when the boy leans forward to keep his balance.
His face is flustered, his heart loud in his ear. “Y–you’re back.”
A few seconds after the cat, Fyodor walks into the room, his lips slightly curling at the
corners when he looks at them. “We came back earlier than planned.”
“Yep~”
There’s something in Fyodor’s voice that feels weird, an amused hint that is only sometimes
there, only when there’s a reason for it. But there isn’t any now, is there? They’ve been away
for two days, doing something Sigma never asks about—
“...”
Earlier…? As in…?
Sigma’s eyes widen, he feels dizzy as the dots connect in his mind and realisation washes
over him like a cold shower. “...you came back just now?” It comes out weak, hopeful despite
the sinking feeling in Sigma’s gut.
There’s a low pur vibrating from Nikolai’s chest, while the kitsune only hums and leans on
the wall.
“Not quite.” The fox says, his eyes seemingly laughing. “We came back a few minutes ago.”
Oh.
Oh, no.
Did Jouno set him up—
“Is there something you’d like to share, Sigma–kun~?” Nikolai chirps, his tail swaying
happily and his ears twitching with excitement.
Oh, he is so getting back at the wolf for it.
Will it be for revenge or as a thank you gesture, though, Sigma will only find out in a few
days’ time…
Tetchou blinks, the items in his hands already forgotten and the voices coming from all
around them nothing but a distant noise to his ears.
“You’re… here.”
Letting out a sigh, Jouno runs a hand through his hair. “And you’re stating the obvious
again.”
“...why?”
“One, unlike most of you, I respect my sanity.”

The answer only makes Tetchou more confused, his head tilted to the side. “...huh?”
“And two…” Jouno ignores him, a small frown settling on his face as his ears turn to the
sides. “I don’t trust you with this.”
It’s not like Tetchou minds the company – of course, he doesn’t, especially not when it’s
Jouno – and it’s not like he couldn’t use someone’s advice. It’s the first time he’s buying a
birthday present for a human – for anyone, really – and he isn’t sure what would be the best
pick for Sigma, but—
“...I’m fine.”
—he wants to show Jouno, and everyone else, that he can do it.
The white wolf crosses his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”
A nod.
“And what have you found so far, hm?”
Tetchou looks down at the knives – daggers – in his hands, then at the table full of small
weaponry and the snake demon looking over it. “Kitchen supplies.”
The stall owner looks at them weirdly but doesn’t offer any comments, nor does he look
offended by what the wolf has just said. This part of the market is busy at all times of the day
and night, there are other customers to worry about.
“Kitchen supplies.” Jouno repeats. “Why would kitchen supplies need spells embedded into
them?”
Well…
“To last longer.”
“Why would Sigma need supplies that are resistant to poison?”
You never know—
“To be safe.”
“...” For a second, there’s only the sound of other demons and spirits passing by them.
Then… “Are you sure it’s for Sigma and not for yourself?”
“...”
So he thought.
Jouno pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Nevermind. Let’s go look for
something else.” He turns around, gesturing with his hand for the other wolf to follow him.
Tetchou seems only more baffled as he puts the daggers back on the table – baffled but with a
warm feeling blooming in his chest at the same time. “Together?”
“Is there anyone else of ours here?”
“...no.”
“Exactly.”
“Are you sure?”
One of Jouno’s ears flickers with annoyance, a quiet jingle getting lost in the noise all around
them. “Don’t make me change my mind, Tetchou.”
The name slips from his lips easier than he expected it to, ringing strangely natural in Jouno’s
ears – Tetchou, on the other hand, halts altogether, eyes wide as he stares at the other wolf’s
back. It’s only when Jouno stops and turns around, an expectant expression on his face, that
Tetchou finds the strength in his body to move again.
He runs up to the white wolf, cheeks a shade darker than usual.
Maybe it’s not as straightforward as what he did to Sigma but, much like Jouno told the
human – he has all the time he needs to see that their story meets an end he wants it to.
…and with the way Tetchou’s fingers hold onto Jouno’s sleeve, the white wolf thinks that
maybe he won’t have to wait much longer.
—present time—
The snow has already melted and the forest is slowly covering itself with the emerald coat for
the upcoming spring. The days are longer, the sun shining through the branches full of young
leaves falling on their skin gently and lighting up their path as the two walk around the trees
of their home, the wind carrying silence and—
“He is you what?!”
—the usual banter, the same voices the forest has grown used to over the last few years.
Chuuya stops in his tracks for a second, too shocked to move, and watches Dazai’s tails as
the fox continues their stroll as if he hasn’t just said the most unbelievable thing he possibly
could have.
“I thought Chuuya’s hearing was supposed to be better now that he isn’t restrained by human
laws anymore, not worse~”
“Oi!” Shaking himself out of the initial shock, Chuuya runs up to the kitsune. “This has
nothing to do with my senses and everything to do with…” For the lack of better words, the
redhead gestures vaguely with his hand. “...this. You. Everything. What the fuck?!”
It’s true that Chuuya did expect the relationship between Dazai and Mori to be more
complicated than the fox used to tell him about in the stories, he anticipated that much from
the very first day when he woke up after four years of slumber. He knew there must have
been more to it than hate, or responsibility, but…
He did not expect the answer to his prediction to be a family bond.
“Believe me, my reaction wasn’t much different from yours.” The kitsune says.
Chuuya snorts, remembering that day. “No, you acted worse.”
“Did not.”
“I am rightfully surprised, you acted like a brat.” Before Dazai can argue, Chuuya sends him
a look. “Don’t try to pretend it’s not true, you didn’t listen to him until the end and then were
sulking about it.”
A huff. “And now Chuuya isn’t listening to me until the end, I see no difference.”
“I am listening, it’s processing that information that I can’t handle right now!”
Because wouldn't that make Mori his… Oh, gods.
Chuuya runs a hand through his hair, thoughts racing in his mind one after another. “How is
that even possible?!”
“Gods’ rules and mechanics.” Dazai shrugs. “You can ask Mori–san personally if you want
details.”
Oh, no, Chuuya doesn’t need that.
Please, no.
“But as much as I hate to admit that, it does make sense.”
Chuuya’s brows knit together as he looks up at the fox. “Which part of it makes any sense to
you?”
“The part where I didn’t die when I should have.” Dazai says, and the honest note in his
voice makes Chuuya’s expression soften on instinct.
“...”
“An additional condition for the rule is more plausible than an exception for it.”
“...fine.” Chuuya mumbles. “Maybe that bit works.”

“Plus…” There’s a small twitch to Dazai’s lips before he speaks. “It explains why he always
acted the way he did. Somehow.”
“Right…”
If Chuuya were any more prepared for that big of a surprise to be dropped on him, he would
have said that maybe it’s also why Dazai could never truly bring himself to hate Mori the
way he wanted to. But the redhead wasn’t ready for it, he’s still struggling to wrap his head
around everything that is being said.
Instead, he asks the questions that are more clear in his mind, pushing at his tongue out of
both curiosity and a tingle of concern.
“Does that mean… you’re… a god?”
A half–god?
A quarter–god?
When Dazai only snorts at the question and shakes his head while an amused smirk stretches
his lips, Chuuya narrows his eyes at the fox. “That’s a valid question!”
“I’m sure it is~” One of his tails pokes Chuuya in the back. “But the answer is: no. A single
drop wouldn’t make me into one, just like much more than a single drop didn’t make you into
one.”
A huff. “But it did make me weird.”
“And mine made me live, that’s weird enough.”
Well… maybe he’s right. But there’s also another feeling Chuuya can’t shake off, another
question that keeps bugging him in all of this…
“And you’re fine with this?” He asks, scanning Dazai’s face carefully. “You know, with the
whole family thing and…?”
…and the centuries of omitted truths.
But that’s something Chuuya doesn’t say out loud, he knows he doesn’t have to for Dazai to
know the intent is there.
A sigh. “I don’t know.”
Dazai’s gaze turns more distant, lost in thought instead of looking ahead. He doesn’t seem
troubled in a sense Chuuya would expect him to, but it must be due to the months of thinking
about it on his own. There must be some things the kitsune has already grown to accept
before he decided to tell Chuuya about it.
Some, but clearly not all.

“I told Mori–san I’d be back.”
At that, Chuuya’s eyebrows climb high. “You did?”
A nod. “But I’m not sure what he’s expecting of me. Or what I am of him, for that matter.”
The redhead lets his gaze travel around them as he thinks about it. He isn’t sure what to say,
or which words to use, because despite having faced many problems in the past – Dazai’s
situation is far from anything Chuuya has ever experienced.
What Chuuya knows is loss of a loved one and everything that comes with it, and even if
Verlaine did hide the part about him not being human from Chuuya for over two decades—
He has always been his family.
To have someone and not know about it, though… that’s a feeling Chuuya has never
experienced.
“I…” He clears his throat, somewhat awkward about giving advice that’s nothing more than
his gut feeling. “I don’t think he’s expecting anything.”
A hum. “Would you not expect anything in his place?”
Chuuya wrinkles his nose, trying to word his thoughts in a way that the kitsune would
understand—
“That’s a really shitty comparison.”
—and failing miserably, of course.
Dazai arches a brow, the corners of his lips twitching with faint amusement. “Oh? And why
is that?”
“Because I’m not a god?”
“You feel emotions just fine, though. So do they.”
“Yes but—” Letting out an annoyed huff, Chuuya scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t
know, I think it feels different for them.”
“Because they’re older than you?”
“Because they all seem fucking lonely all the time, Dazai. Lonely and accepting of it.” Then,
a bit quieter… “I don’t think someone who has learnt to feel like that would expect a sudden
change after just one conversation.”
Or, at least, Chuuya wouldn’t if it were him.
Dazai considers it for a moment, his tails stirring ever so often as they continue their walk in
silence.
“I see.” He ends up saying eventually.
Then, it’s silent once more, only the rustle of the forest around them ringing through the air.
When Dazai speaks again, his voice is lighter, the usual, teasing edge back where it belongs.
“Well, I can’t say I’m not looking forward to Chibi’s next time meeting Mori–san~”
…ugh.
Of course, he is.
Chuuya, on the other hand, is not. At least not until he’s menatlly prepared for that.
“Stop it.” The redhead hisses, trying to elbow the kitsune in the side but feeling only the
softness of his tail in his way. “I won’t be the mediator between the two of you.”
“You’ll have to greet him at some point, though~”
Perhaps, but it doesn’t have to be anytime soon.
In fact, it can wait for when the two of them figure things out on their own.
“I will, after you get your shit together.” Which, knowing Dazai and having heard enough
about Mori, won’t be anytime soon.
Dazai chuckles into his sleeve, his ears twitching happily, which only makes Chuuya roll his
eyes. He’ll let the fox use him to distract himself from his inner problems just this once.
However, talking about Mori and family and everything made a memory resurface in
Chuuya’s mind. A thought that comes with a sour taste of guilt as he voices it.
“Dazai?”
The kitsune tilts his head slightly, waiting for whatever Chuuya is about to say.
“Do you remember what you asked me about after I woke up?” When Dazai arches a brow,
Chuuya adds… “Not right away, but… sometimes after that. When you thought something
was wrong.”
Dazai’s eye widens slightly, a glint of realisation shining in the dark orb.
“I do.”
“Right. Right. So…”
Taking a deep inhale, then exhaling slowly, Chuuya stops again, but this time, Dazai stops
with him. The dark eye locked with blue ones, the expression on the fox’s face patient and
the knots in Chuuya’s chest vibrating with tension—
//What about taking my name, then?//
“I can’t.” Chuuya breathes out.
If Dazai feels surprised, or let down by the answer he got, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, the
kitsune only nods and…
“I understand.”
“It’s not because I don’t want to, because I do. It’s just—”
“You’re holding onto your family.” Dazai finishes for him, a small smile on his lips. “Am I
right?”
Chuuya’s eyes blown for a second, lips pressed into a thin line. “...yeah.”
“You don’t have to worry about it, Chuuya.” The tip of one of his tails brushes a long strand
of hair away from the redhead’s face. “I expected this to be the case.”
“...you did?”
A nod.
Right. Of course, he did. It’s Dazai, after all.
“...sorry.”
The fox shakes his head again, his smile never wavering. “Don’t be. I get to keep Chuuya
with me forever, I don’t mind giving up some of him to his family.”
Upon hearing that, Chuuya’s shoulders relax and a smile mirroring Dazai’s climbs to his lips.
The guilt picking at his heart is barely noticeable now, and he’s sure it’ll go away eventually
—
“Thanks.”
Then, stepping from one feet to another, Chuuya bites the inside of his cheek. It may not be
the right time for this, not after the kind of conversation they’ve just had, but it’s been on his
mind for a while now and…
“Can I ask you something completely unrelated?”
Dazai blinks, a curious glint in his eyes. “Of course.”
And, well…
“Are you doing something… weird right now?”

It’s something Chuuya has only noticed in the past few weeks, something he doesn’t think
was there before, or maybe he simply never noticed it. But it’s also something not exactly
easy to overlook, no matter how ignorant he might have been—
The kitsune blinks at him, genuinely confused. “No?”
“I am. Why?”
Well, it isn’t anything important, or dangerous, but…
“Because if you aren’t…” Looking over his shoulder, Chuuya looks at them with a baffled
expression. “...why are they following us?”
There is not one.
Not two.
Not three.
But four foxes around the bushes a few steps behind them, with curious eyes that seem to
stare right into Chuuya’s soul as they tilt their small heads at the two of them. They’re just
that, foxes – not demons, not spirits – with ginger fur and big ears perking up when the
redhead looks back at them.
They aren’t bothering him, they don’t do anything special, they have only been following
them around since Chuuya and Dazai stepped out of the house.
The first time it happened – or rather, the first time Chuuya noticed them – he thought the
foxes were maybe after food, maybe Chuuya smelled of something he had eaten before. But
they never came too close, never made any noises, and then he noticed them again, and again,
and again…
Following his gaze, Dazai looks at the foxes and when it happens, they seem to come closer,
their tails swaying happily behind them.
“Why not?” The kitsune doesn’t sound surprised, not by the animals anyway. “They live
here, too.”
“I know but—” Is Chuuya really the crazy one for not understanding why wild animals
would follow them around for no reason? “Shouldn’t they be, I don’t know, afraid?”
“Afraid?” Dazai’s lips twitch, confusion melting into amusement. “Of what?”
Everything?
“You?” Chuuya points out, trying to make it sound like an obvious choice.
At that, Dazai chuckles into his sleeve again. “Chibi, why would foxes be afraid of me?”
Why is he making it sound like the most ridiculous concept ever? He is a demon, being afraid
of Dazai should not be anything surprising, no matter what kind of a living creature it’s
about.
Narrowing his eyes at the kitsune, Chuuya tries to poke his side and, once more, a white tail
obstructs his way. “Stop laughing!”
“No, no, but please, do tell me—”
“Well, you’re a demon, aren’t you?!”
Another chuckle rips from the kitsune and, despite everything Chuuya has always believed,
the four foxes only come closer when it happens, sniffing at their clothes. One of them even
rests its front paws on Chuuya’s legs, tilting its head at the boy curiously and looking up at
him.
It’s cute, obviously, but the redhead isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with the animal in
order not to scare it away—
“Foxes tend to be drawn to kitsunes.” Dazai says when his laughter clams down. “I’m no
exception. It’s humans who are afraid of demons.”
Wrinkling his nose, Chuuya hates how it’s meant to make sense. “...well, I’ve never noticed
them before.” He grumbles.
“They were still there, but they were hiding.” One of Dazai’s tails pokes Chuuya’s chest
lightly. “Because they smelled a human with me.”
A second fox takes an interest in him, stretching his body along Chuuya’s leg.
“But…” Looking between the two ginger animals, Chuuya can’t stop the smile growing on
his lips. “But I’m still here.”
A hum. “But your scent has changed.”
The redhead doesn’t see it, but Dazai’s expression softens as the kitsune watches him bend
down and pet one of the foxes. He smiles when Chuuya chuckles as the fox’s cold nose
tickles his wrist.
“And now they’re curious.”
It isn’t something Chuuya expected, certainly not as a result of being married to an actual
demon and then going through that other situation, but it’s a nice surprise. A very welcome
one.
“Hi there.” He smiles at the smaller of the two foxes, scratching it behind the ear and
watching as it nuzzles into his palm. “Cute, aren’t we?”
He gets a quiet squeal in response, and Dazai chuckles next to him. That, in turn, makes the
redhead glance up at the kitsune, brows slightly furrowed.
“Don’t tell me you can…?”
Without needing Chuuya to finish his question, Dazai shakes his head, waving his hand
dismissively. “I don’t speak fox, no.”
Is that a relief Chuuya feels at the answer? Or pity?
Would the idea of Dazai translating what the little fluffy friends say be enough of a
compensation for risking having them spy on Chuuya on his behalf?
“But I do sense their emotions. Most demons can do that with animals.” The kitsune doesn’t
bend down to play with the foxes but he doesn’t chase them away, either, he only observes
them play with Chuuya. “That one already likes you.” His fangs flash behind his smirk when
he gestures to one of them with his head. “Befitting of the youngest and the smallest of
them~”
It earns Dazai a glare from the redhead, right before Chuuya picks up the said fox. The
animal settles comfortably in his arms, nuzzling to his chest, its tail swaying happily as it
hangs along Chuuya’s side.
With the small fox in his arm, Chuuya shoots Dazai a glare and a satisfied smirk. “I think I’ve
found my favourite fox and, surprise, it’s not you.”
But, as if the world is mocking him, the comment doesn’t earn him the desired reaction.
Instead of a pout, or a whine, Dazai’s smirk only grows, stretching into a grin as he leans
dangerously close to the redhead.
“Well, too bad for Chuuya, then.” His voice lowers, red flashing behind a dark orb. “Because
It’s me he’s spending his nights with~”
Chuuya’s eyes widen, cheeks heating up slightly and his lips twitching. “You—!”
“And his life, too, of course~”
He kicks Dazai weakly, not strong enough to startle the foxes but only making them curious
even more, thinking it’s some sort of a game as they sniff at their legs more.
“Do you have to say shit like that in front of others?!”
The lack of any real anger in Chuuya’s voice tells Dazai he doesn’t actually mind it. “You
mean the animals?”
“Yes!”
They do look like smaller, more colourful versions of Dazai, after all. Their fur is similar,
even if not as well–kept and shiny – it’s warm and soft to the touch, and Chuuya likes it.
There’s a small tremble at the corners of Dazai’s lips, a clear sign the kitsune is holding back
another laugh. “Chibi, I assure you, they don’t understand what I’m saying.”
Not in the same way everyone else does, anyway. They only get an idea of his mood, a
glimpse of Dazai’s emotions.
“But I do!” The boy huffs.
“You know, she may be small but she isn’t a pup anymore.”
…oh?
Did Chuuya steal a little girl from her siblings now?
“Doesn’t matter.” The redhead starts walking again, avoiding looking at the kitsune in
retaliation. “I’m not having her, or any of them, listen to your nonsense.”
And that, much to both Chuuya’s delight and dismay, doesn’t quite work out for him.
Because it may have taken the foxes a few months to stop being afraid of him and a few
walks around the forest with Dazai before Chuuya first noticed them, but after that one day—
They become a part of their life.
Their garden comes alive with foxes walking around it every day, every season.
On colder days, the animals curl up on their engawa to warm up in the sun, and on hot ones
they hide in the shadow cast by the sakura trees. They come and go as they please, but there’s
always at least one around to hear whatever Dazai has to say at a given time.
Many of them come back every few days, but there are also times when Chuuya looks at the
dark tip of a tail getting further and further away from him and thinks to himself—
Will it be the last time he sees that one?
He’s grown fond of every fox that comes here, but they aren’t his pets. They’re wild animals
and no matter how much he’d like to keep them safe, he knows he can’t.
So he lets Nature be as it is.
With spring, fox pups appear around the house, and as Dazai and Chuuya’s life gains another
factor that will remain with them, even if it changes with every generation of foxes that run
around them—
Five years pass by in a blink of an eye.
Chapter End Notes
In case anyone is wondering:

1.Why can’t Dazai take Chuuya’s last name? Because I’m too used to calling him
“Dazai” in the narrative and my mind wouldn’t be able to handle the discrepancy T_T
2.Why can’t they have both names “Dazai-Nakahara”? First of all, this plays out
soooometime around the year 1000 and that wasn’t a thing back then, it’s STILL not a
thing in Japan, so neither of them even thought of it. (Yes, I’m breaking the rule of ‘you
must have the same last name to be legally married in Japan’ anyway but that’s as far as
my mind can handle :’) )
3.Will we see FyoNikSig relationship develop? Hmmm nope, not in the main story, but
I’m thinking of writing a side story for them in the future!
The Last Piece
Chapter Notes
“—and then he let that animal sleep in our bed. Can you believe it, Odasaku?”
Oda’s hand stops mid air, the cup he’s holding inches away from his lips. “You mean one of
the foxes?”
“Yes!”
“And it’s a bad thing because…?”
“Because he already has me, of course?” Dazai leans back on his tail, huffing a displeased
sigh. “He shouldn't need anyone else in there.”
Oda nods, then takes a sip of his drink, choosing not to comment further. “I see.”
“Did you perhaps do something to deserve it?” Ango asks in his stead.
“You know, Ango, you always assume it’s somehow my fault.”
“...is that a no, then?”
“Well…” Dazai drawls, the corner of his lips twitching and a flash of crimson shining from
the dark eye. “I didn’t do anything unusual, only teased him a little when we were sparring~”
“Are you sure it was ‘a little’, Dazai?” Oda can’t stop himself from asking.
The kitsune doesn’t answer but the way three of his tails cheerfully stir over the grass speaks
for itself. Neither Oda or Ango need to know the details of what has happened, the signs
Dazai lets slip are enough to paint an accurate enough picture of it.
“You deserved it, in that case.” The tanuki says, pouring himself another cup.
“I deserve to be cheated on by my husband? How awful…”
A sigh. “Chuuya–kun didn’t cheat on you.”
“He was cuddling a fox. Once.” Ango adds.
But Dazai arches a brow at his friends. “I’m a fox myself.”
“You’re a demon, that was an animal. It’s not the same.”
“It is—”
“I’m happy for you, Dazai.” Oda says all of a sudden, his voice casual as it silences the other
two without even trying to. “It sounds like a good life.”
Dazai parts his lips to say something but he decides against it at the last second. Letting go of
the previous argument, he waves his hand dissmisevley and reaches for the cup placed in
front of him on the low table.
“...it is.”
“Did Chuuya–kun not want to come with you today?”
“He said I should get ‘quality time’ on my own from time to time.”
Oda hums, but Ango… “So he’s taking a break from you today?”
A small, blue flame lights up at the tip of one of Dazai’s tails, the fox’s smile growing more
dangerous as a shadow washes over his face. “What was that, Ango~?”
“I’m sure Chuuya–kun is using the time he has for himself wisely.” Oda answers in the
tanuki’s stead. “How is he adjusting to his new… situation?”
Dazai shoots one last glare at Ango, then shrugs as he brings the cup to his lips. “He’s doing
fine, and it’s not exactly ‘new’ anymore.”
“Is it not?”
“It’s been almost six years since it happened. It may not be long for us but it was more than
enough time for Chuuya to adjust.”
“Or not enough to meet any of the obstacles yet.”
Both Dazai and Ango look at Oda, each with a different expression. Ango’s is that of
understanding and, unwillingly, pity towards the human that has forsaken his humanity, while
the kitsune’s face feels more stubborn – more hopeful.
“That’s a good thing, Odasaku.” Dazai says.
The god offers him a smile as an answer. “I’m not saying it isn’t.”
“Dazai.” Ango speaks up, more curious than anything else. “Is Chuuya–kun aware of how
differently the flow of time will begin to feel for him?”
“He is.” Dazai inhales deeply, then lets all of it out as he slumps against his tails, voice
lowered. “But he tends to forget about it sometimes.”
“Forget?”
“When he can’t notice any changes around himself for a long time.” The fox shrugs.
“Whenever he comes back from visiting his uncle he’s more aware of it but only for a few
days. It’s not as big of a difference as it is for us, though. Not yet.”
“Is he still counting years?” Ango asks.
The kitsune snorts at the question. “He’s still counting months. Because of the visits.
Sometimes weeks.”
“That’s good.” Oda nods. “It’s easy to let time slip from one’s fingers when not careful.”
“I told him that already.” Dazai says. “Plus, Chuuya is persistent about looking after the
garden so he notices the season changing if nothing else.”
“And you?”
Dazai’s ears flicker at the question, surprise briefly filling his eye before his smirk softens
into a more genuine smile and his voice loses the nonchalance it carries with itself. The
kitsune watches the liquid inside his cup lazily swirl as he circles his wrist, fondness seeping
into his gaze and heart—
“I notice every day.”
Once again, spring has come and brought with it its colours to Chuuya’s garden, together
with the quiet noises of fox pups playing around the flower bushes.
Dazai is away, meeting with Oda and Ango, meaning the redhead has at least the whole day
to enjoy just for himself. The kitsune did ask him to come, or rather whether he’d like to
come or not, but…
Other than when Chuuya was with his family or asked to be left alone, for the past eight
years Dazai has only left Chuuya’s side twice on his own accord – both in the span of the
same day, when he went to talk with Mori. Every time he’d meet with his friends, or anyone
else – Chuuya was there with him. Always.
And it is understandable.
However, it’s not needed anymore. There are no looming dangers anymore and even if there
were, Chuuya now knows how to defend himself. Dazai and his friends deserve to have time
to themselves after all those years.
Besides, no matter how much the redhead appreciates and likes Oda and Ango, they can
never compare to the cute pups he gets to play with at home. No one can, even Dazai’s pouty
eyes.
One of them is currently sleeping on Chuuya’s lap, lulled to sleep by the redhead’s hand
gently stroking its head. It’s one of Tainted’s – the small fox that was the first to approach
him five years ago – pups. She was the only one Chuuya ever named, knowing that if he were
to get attached to every fox that comes to their house, it would only hurt him in the end. But
she was the first to play with him and the only one coming back almost every day.
Her name is mostly a result of a joke, from the time Chuuya accused Dazai of tainting the
little fox’s soul by having her listen to his nonsense. Then, it stuck with them and the fox
seemed to like the sound of that name, too.
The small fox stirs in its sleep on Chuuya’s lap, turning to lay on its back instead and the
redhead smiles to himself as he watches it. It’s really small, with his mothers fur and eyes—
“You look as if you were staring at your own child.”
—and much cuter than the wolf making fun of him.
Chuuya looks to the sky and lets out a small sigh, turning his head to look at Ryuu. “Very
funny.”
“It is, actually.”
The wolf’s expression is his usual one, painted with the faintest colours of amusement
Chuuya only notices because he’s seen it over the past years. Sitting down next to the
redhead, Ryuu glances at the sleeping pup, the corners of his lips trembling slightly.
“You must be proud, it looks just like you.”
The comment isn’t anything Chuuya didn’t expect. Most of the foxes coming here are red,
he’s heard that joke a million times coming from Dazai already.
The redhead smirks at him, sparkles lighting up the blue eyes. “I’d be more proud if you
stopped playing oblivious on purpose.”
Ryuu’s smile falters, eyes narrowed slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No?”
Too bad for Ryuu, Gin has told Chuuya everything.
“Didn’t Atsushi mention something about how nice it would be to get married one day—”
“How quickly time flies, doesn’t it?” The wolf speaks over him, averting his gaze to look at
the garden instead and, not so subtly, changing the topic. “It has already been almost 14
years.”
Huffing out a laugh at the obvious topic change, Chuuya shakes his head but doesn’t push.
He can and will use everything he has to tease Ryuu back when the situation calls for it, but
he’s also aware that yōkai marriage is something important, something that need not be
rushed, or taken lightly.
He doesn’t mean to push them into anything. If Atsushi gets desperate enough, the tiger will
do it himself, Chuuya has no doubts about that.
“...it has.” He agrees, even if four out of those 14 years don’t really count for him. “And a lot
has changed in that time.”
“Do you ever miss your old village?”
The question catches Chuuya off–guard for a second, his heart skipping a beat.
It’s… complicated.
He does miss it from time to time, of course he does, but he’s happy here, content with the
life he gets to lead. And it’s not like he can go back, anyway. Ryuu said it himself—
It’s been fourteen years.
The villagers must think he’s dead, it would only freak them out if he went back.
“I… don’t really think about it that much anymore.”
It’s better if he doesn’t, thinking of the past always comes with regrets and sorrows that aren’t
easy to chase away once they settle in his heart. Chuuya spends his days here and he doesn’t
try to look past the forest, not in that direction.
Ryuu hums in response, and then silence falls around them once more. It’s only the birds’
chirping and the foxes running round that fill the air, accompanied by the quiet rustle of
leaves dancing above their heads.
Neither of them speaks for a while.
But then—
“Your friend is back.”
A second passes, and Chuuya feels his heart stilling in his chest when an old, blurry image
reappears in his head.
“The girl with pink hair.”
It’s been 14 years since then.
Since he met Dazai, since everything fell apart, since his biggest mistake, since he found
himself and his love among the sorrows and guilt—
“...Yuan?”
But… she left the village after what happened to Shirase, didn’t she?
There were times when Chuuya would think about what happened to her, about what her life
is like now, but he has never been brave enough to search for her. It was Yuan’s choice to
leave the past behind her. It was her choice to look for a new life and move on, and Chuuya
didn’t feel like he had the right to take that away from her.
She told him not to, back in Ace’s cave, and so, he stayed away, but…
Ryuu nods without looking at the redhead. “She came back a few months ago.”
With blown eyes, Chuuya stares at the wolf’s calm profile, searching for anything else Ryuu
might offer him – any sign of how she’s doing – but… there’s nothing.
Wetting his lips, he turns his head away again, his gaze falling to the sleeping pup once more.
“...is that so.”
“It is.” Ryuu’s tone sounds almost disinterested, but then… “She’s doing better now.”
A small, relieved smile blooms on Chuuya’s lips, though his eyes remain pained with the
memories of that time, and a sparkle of anger comes to life in his chest at the sole thought of
it.
“That’s good.” He says quietly, more to himself than to Ryuu.
“Maybe you should go see her.”
“That’s—”
When Ryuu’s words actually reach Chuuya’s mind and not only his ears, Chuuya’s voice dies
in his throat. He presses his lips back together, brows slightly furrowing as a dozen different
emotions storms into his heart.
“I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Again – she left for a reason.
She told Chuuya to stay away also for a reason.
Another hum from Ryuu fills the redhead with expectations he can’t quite understand, with
the hope he’s afraid of accepting. “I won’t force you to go if you don’t want to, Chuuya.”
Then, the wolf looks back at him, offering a smile that’s small but warmer than the sunlight
falling on his skin. It’s genuine and caring, soothing the worries knotting in Chuuya’s head.
“But I still think you should.”
“...” Side glancing at Ryuu, Chuuya feels his throat tightening. “...what if she doesn’t want
me to.”
Unbothered, the wolf extends his arm to him, scratching the sleeping pup on the belly. “You
said it yourself: a lot has changed.”
“...I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” Carefully and without asking for permission first, Ryuu takes the small fox from
Chuuya’s lap and places it on his own, earning himself a small pout from the redhead. “But it
doesn’t mean you can’t try.”
Chuuya’s hands clench into fists. “What if—”
“You don’t have to talk to her.” Ryuu cuts him off casually, now more focused on petting the
pup. “You can just go and see for yourself how she’s doing.” Then, the wolf shrugs, his voice
turning more casual than before. “Or you can stay here. It’s your choice.”
Tilting his head forward slightly, Ryuu sends Chuuya a small smirk, the look in his eyes
making the other man feel somewhat annoyed with Ryuu and with himself—
“But I’m not giving you your child back. It’s my turn.”
—but mostly with Ryuu.
“It’s not my child.” The redhead grumbles, standing up from his seat and brushing off any
dust from his clothes. “Look after it, or Tainted is going to bite your ankles.”
A huff. “Sure.”
Chuuya’s mask of nonchalance and stubbornness slips off as soon as the redhead steps into
the forest surrounding the residence, leaving Ryuu and his gaze behind, obstructed by the
trees.
He still remembers the path.
He still recognises the trails he used to walk.
But it’s been so long since the last time Chuuya stepped on the path leading there, to where
his home once was, to where he thought his life would be – but there’s not a single fibre of
him that would ever forget the way back.
Passing by the small fox statue hiding among the grass and fallen branches fills Chuuya with
both nostalgia and remorse. The closer he gets to the border of the forest, to the village that
raised him, the more nervous he gets.
Does he even have a right to go back? To see her?
What if she notices him?
What is Chuuya supposed to do, to say?
They haven’t seen each other in over a decade and the last time they did… it was painful. In
every sense.
The redhead knows that some things can change when given enough time, but… the memory
of that day still holds him back. It keeps him from stepping out from the cover of the forest,
away from where he could be noticed by anyone, and…
Chuuya only looks at the sight he has almost forgotten in the past decade.
The riverside where he used to play as a child, the green grass between the first small houses
of the village and… his small hut. Right there, where the forest meets the open field.
It hasn’t changed at all since the last time, making the redhead wonder if Dazai or the
Akutagawa siblings did something to it. There are voices reaching his ears, gossip and
conversations coming all the way from the village as Chuuya only stays there.
So many voices, both old and familiar, and new ones.
So many different scents filling the air.
So many—
Creeeeak!
Surprised, Chuuya blinks himself out of the old images flashing before his eyes and looks
back at his hut where… the door is now open?
Is that—
“Can I? Can I? I know the way! Please!”
—a child? No older than eight? ten? years old, with light, spiky hair and… grey eyes.
Right after the boy, another person walks out of the hut. Much taller and older, with a
defeated smile on her face…
“Mum, please!”
“Okay, okay.” She ruffles the boy’s hair. “But come back before lunch—hey, Akira—!”
But the child is already running towards the village, waving his hand at her. “I will! Bye!”
The woman only shakes her head as she looks after the boy, both hands resting on her hips.
Her hair is put up in a low bun, only a few long strands loosely framing her face. Her kimono
is colourful, with carefully woven patterns gracing the fabric, and…
It really is her. Isn’t it?
It’s Yuan.
She’s older – of course, she is – than the little girl Chuuya remembers laughing with; she’s
grown into a beautiful woman in the time they spent apart. There’s a floral and herbal scent
surrounding her, more of it coming from inside his… well, her hut.
She’s really here and… she has a child.

A family.
Even after Chuuya took away her future when Shirase—
Crack!
Chuuya’s heart seems to stop at the quiet sound that rings way too loud in his ears. He
shouldn’t be here, he should go back before Yuan notices him so why—
Why did his feet take a step forward?
The branch cracking under his foot feels like a warning, one that Chuuya shouldn't ignore.
He’s fast enough to get away from here before Yuan turns around, before he’s faced with his
past and the friend he let down – and, yet, he can’t seem to move.
His body is frozen in place as he watches Yuan look over her shoulder, drawn by the
unexpected sound, and when their eyes meet—
Both of their hearts seem to halt.
Purple eyes gaze into blue ones.
An old friend meets a memory of a long lost one.
Chuuya can’t think, can’t breathe, his mind can’t come up with anything to say and his body
just won’t move, while Yuan—
“...Chuuya?”
Her eyes are blown wide, lips parted.
“Is… is that you?”
He could say ‘no’. He could lie. He could run away and pretend it never happened, but…
Before Chuuya even has the time to understand what he’s feeling, Yuan takes a step forward.
And another.
And another—
“Chuuya!”
She runs towards him and throws her arms around his shoulders and neck, hugging Chuuya
tightly as her body trembles all over. Yuan’s breathing is shaky as it fans over the redhead’s
skin, her heartbeat ringing loud over the blood rushing to Chuuya’s ears. She’s stronger now
than she used to be and, which the redhead will pout about later, still slightly taller than
Chuuya.
It’s more on instinct, a desperate call from within, that the boy’s hands come up to return the
hug. He isn’t thinking about what he’s doing, or why it’s happening. The only thought
occupying Chuuya’s mind is—
Yuan isn’t chasing him away.
She’s holding him.
And… is she crying?
“Y–you’re back.” Yuan whispers, pulling away barely enough to look at him. Her hands
come up to Chuuya’s face, holding it as if she is afraid to let go. Her eyes look over his hair,
eyes, his face, disbelief blooming on her expression. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”
There are tears trailing down her cheeks and while her smile is hesitant and unsure – it never
fades, no matter how many pieces of the puzzle don’t find their fit in her head.
“You’re… you look…”
Exactly the same as he did when they parted.
Chuuya knows.
His appearance hasn’t changed at all during the first two years of living with Dazai, and then
the four years he spent asleep… Whatever Mori did to keep him alive also kept his body
intact – and now, he doesn’t age anymore.
It’s been fourteen years for Yuan and everyone else Chuuya knew, but… to them, the redhead
hasn’t aged a day.
“It—it is you, right?” Yuan hesitates but her hands press to his face more. “Chuuya—”
“Y–yeah.” The redhead breathes out, feeling his eyes water the same way hers do. “It’s me.”
It’s like his words are enough, no explanation needed.
Yuan sobs out a laugh, hugging Chuuya again. “I’m sorry.” She whispers, squeezing her eyes
when the redhead hugs her tighter. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”
“Yu—”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
A sob shakes her body, a relieved or a pained one – Chuuya can’t tell. But he feels something
similar bloom in his chest, hammering inside of him as it fights to break free—
“It wasn’t. I shouldn’t have said that.”
—and, eventually, it does. Along with the lone tear trailing down his cheek and disappearing
among the pink locks.
“I missed you so much, Chuuya.”
And he missed her just as much.
Every time something happened – be it good or bad – he wanted to tell her. To laugh, or to
ask for advice, or simply be around Yuan again.
Around his friend that he grew up with.
Around the person, who he never got to apologise to, thinking he’d never see her again.
And yet—
“I’m sorry.” Chuuya whispers back, his voice just as shaky as hers. “I–It was and I’m sorry
and—”
They have so much to tell each other. So much to explain.
But they’ll do it later.
For now, hidden among the trees near Chuuya’s old hut and Yuan’s current home, they stay
like this in silence, holding each other close for the first time in over a decade.
Apologising and forgiving.
Broken and healing.
Feeling themselves suffocated by the unspoken confessions and finally breaking free from
the cages of their own guilt.
Chuuya can hear the smile in Yuan’s voice, he doesn’t need to see it to feel its warmth
embrace around his mind—
“Thank you for coming back.”
As expected, telling Yuan about everything that has happened in the past fourteen years is…
not easy. Chuuya doesn’t have to explain the existence of demons to her, not after what
happened with Ace, but there are aspects of it that she needs time to process.
Like Chuuya becoming something… not human.
Like him almost dying.
But most of all—

“...married?”
They’re sitting inside the hut now, each at a soft cushion that Chuuya does not remember ever
owning and that look expensive, much more so than what any of them could have afforded in
the past. Much like the rest of the house on the inside now.
Yuan is staring at him with blown eyes, her brows raised high, and Chuuya can’t help the shy
smile growing on his face. He scratches the back of his neck, shrugging under her gaze.
“Yeah?”
“To a…” She speaks slowly, as if putting the pieces together in her mind. “... demon?”
“Dazai, yes. He’s a, ehm, a kitsune.”
“A kitsune.” Yuan repeats, and Chuuya can see it in her eyes when she remembers. “Like that
one from the old stories.”
Well… not ‘like’ that one.
Dazai is the one they were told about when they were younger.
Chuuya offers her a nod, waiting for Yuan to ask another question while he mulls over his
own thoughts in his head.
“And you…” She takes a deep breath, glancing at the door briefly. “You’ve been here all this
time?”
“No here –here, but… yeah.”
Save for the four years he spent at Mori’s, Chuuya remained close, willingly hiding from his
past in the forest that was always a part of it. He never looked back, never tried to make his
presence be known to anyone and never tried interfering.
Unsure of what to say, or even how to react, Yuan looks down at the floor between them.
There are a hundred emotions racing in her heart, and a hundred more storming in her mind.
She’s relieved to know Chuuya is alive, glad she got to apologise to him after spending years
living with her guilt at every single step she took. And… a part, a very human one, of her is
also jealous.
Of the happiness Chuuya has found, of peace he’s made with his mistakes.
She doesn’t hate him for it, but… she doesn’t know how to react to any of it.
There were nights when she’d dream of meeting the redhead again, but each time it was
different. Sometimes, she cried. Other times, she laughed.
Or screamed.
Or ran away.
Nothing ever felt right and now that Chuuya is here and she knows the truth… It's
complicated.
But if there is one emotion she knows is genuine, stronger than anything else – it’s that she’s
happy to have her friend back and that no matter how much time she may need to come to
terms with everything, she wouldn’t go back to not having him in her life ever again.
“So…” Sensing her troubled mind, Chuuya clears his throat and offers a distraction. “A kid,
huh?” What was his name again?
It brings Yuan out of her thoughts. She looks up, surprised at first but then smiling back at
Chuuya. “Yeah. Akira. He’ll be eight this year.”
“And his dad…?” There are no signs of a third person living here, not that Chuuya can see or
sense.
“No dad.” Yuan sighs. “I’m not Akira’s birth mother.”
…oh.
“I’m sorry—”
But the woman shakes her head, stopping Chuuya before he can say anything else. “It’s okay,
I don’t mind.”
She sounds… different somehow. Wiser.
It really shouldn’t come as a surprise, she isn’t the same girl Chuuya knew when they were
kids, or even when the three of them reached adulthood. But he can’t stop noticing the small
details.
How much calmer she is, how she can calm the concerns Chuuya feels before the redhead
can realise he’s nurturing them. She’s more observant now; there’s a faintly tired glint to her
eyes, years of overcoming obstacles waiting on her path engraved into everything she does
and says.
“I found him when he was only a baby.” Yuan speaks again. “Someone left a basket by the
side of the road I was travelling on and when I heard him crying…” Her eyes warm up,
gentle sparkles lighting up the purple irises. “I couldn’t leave him.”
Then, her smile widens and her voice seems to sing as it slips from her lips.
“His eyes look like Shirase’s, don’t they?” She chuckles. “He isn’t as misbehaving as him but
he gives me my fair share of worry every once in a while. My hair will go grey in no time,
I’m telling you.”
Hearing Shirase’s name being spoken so easily is like being allowed to breathe again. Like
with that one sentence Yuan managed to chase the dark clouds away from Chuuya, letting air
fill his lungs instead of thick smoke.
It’s the first time in years that he hears that name spoken with so much love; so light, despite
the pain it used to bring.
“...they do.” The redhead agrees with a weak smile. Then… “Yuan?”
The woman hums, tilting her head to the side as she tucks a long strand behind one ear.
“Why… I mean, I’m not angry, It’s just… why are you here?”
Why does she live in Chuuya’s old hut?
Why did she come back after over a decade?
“Ah…”
Her smile melts into something more melancholic, the faraway look in her eyes tugging at
Chuuya’s heart. He doesn’t know what Yuan went through in those last few years, he doesn’t
know about the things she had to face. Chuuya’s life wasn’t an easy one, he nearly died
before he got to experience what happiness tastes like but—
But he wasn’t alone with it.
And she was.
“I guess it’s my turn now, huh?” She lets out a sigh, shifting on her cushion until she’s sitting
on her side, supporting herself with one hand. “After Shirase’s funeral, I felt lost. I…” She
chuckles awkwardly. “I may have told everyone you were dead, too. Sorry…”
Well… it’s better than having them worry and search for him when there was no need to.
“It’s fine.” Chuuya shrugs. “It’s probably better that way.”
He didn’t plan on ever coming back, not back then – it wouldn’t be fair to let everyone hope
for the best when Chuuya’s life felt like it stepped on the worst path possible.
Over time, everything changed. But if Yuan’s lie kept his old friends and clients more at
peace – he’s grateful for it.
“I couldn’t focus on anything, I messed up at work enough times to get fired eventually.”
Yuan continues after a while. “I caused my mother more worry than she deserved to be
burdened with.”
Because the pain proved to be too much for Yuan.
She didn’t know how to handle it.
“So… I left. I moved to a bigger village, a few days on a horse away from here. I got… Well,
I begged myself a job at a small tea house there and trained under the owner. New people,
new job, new… everything. It helped. A lot.”
Just like it did for Chuuya.
Only, in a different place, with different people.
“I would come back from time to time in the first three years. But after both Ino–san and my
mother passed away, I stopped.”
Blue eyes widen, Chuuya’s breath catching in his throat. “Huh?”
Yuan looks confused for a moment, but once she realises… “Ah, yeah…” All she can offer is
a smile. “Ino–san passed away a little over a year after I left. Old age. She… she was worried
about you until the very end. She never believed me when I would say you were dead.”
…oh.
So the flower stall grandma is… gone?
Of course, she was one of the oldest villagers, but she was always so lively, more cheerful
than even some of the kids. Chuuya never truly considered a time may come when she
wouldn’t be there anymore, and he wasn’t there to see her off, either.
He didn’t even know until now—
“My mother got sick two years after that and didn’t make it.”
Chuuya’s gaze falls to the floor, his throat tight. “...I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, but it’s okay now. I’ve…” Yuan inhales deeply, choosing a smile over spilling
any more tears. “I’ve had enough time to mourn. And to move on.”
Another long pause stretches between them as Chuuya lets that sink in. But when Yuan
speaks up again, she makes everything seem so easy, even when Chuuya knows it wasn’t like
that for her.
It couldn’t have been.
“The owner of the tea house I worked at said I had potential, so she wrote me a
recommendation letter and – get this – she sent me to work at her friend’s establishment. In
the city.”
Even now, there are amazed sparkles in Yuan’s eyes when she mentions it.
“Everything was so different and the sheer number of people there—” She clears her throat,
calming down again as a faint pink paints her cheeks. “Anyway, I got the job. I trained and
climbed higher and higher. I learnt not only about the tea ceremony, but also about all the
different teas and how to combine them. Eventually, the owner of that tea house allowed me
to open a small stall where I would sell my own teas, and I got lucky.”
She sends Chuuya a satisfied smirk, her every word full of pride.
“In less than a year, I opened up my own shop. Then I found Akira, and we lived in the city
for a few years, but… I never stopped thinking about what happened, about what I said to
you.”
Looking somewhere to the side, Yuan speaks quieter now. The small curl of her lips feels
almost shy, her shoulders drooping and her fingers fidgeting.
“I regretted it every day for many years, Chuuya, but I didn’t know how to find you. I didn’t
know whether you were still alive, or not. But I knew that if you were, here would be the
only place where I could wait for you.”
And Chuuya didn’t know about any of it.
Because he chose not to look, if it wasn’t for Ryuu—
“So I packed our stuff and moved back here. There are many plants around the area that don’t
grow anywhere else, and they taste great when infused in tea. I opened up a shop at my old
house in the village, and my customers from the city come here regularly. Other merchants,
too. I lived there with Akira for the first few weeks, but I was afraid I’d miss you if you ever
came back. I came here every day before work and after, but…”
She looks back at him, shrugging with a shy smile.
“It stood empty, and I couldn’t stand seeing it fall apart, so I decided I would just wait here.
And I’m glad I did.”
“You…” Chuuya wets his lips, inhaling deeply. “You waited for me?”
She thought of Chuuya all this time? Despite the hardships and sorrows she was forced to
face alone? Despite raising a child all on her own?
Yuan nods, a weight lifting from her shoulders. “I have wanted to apologise to you for over
ten years now. I was afraid I’d never get a chance to.”
Chuuya bites his lips, his eyes growing darker. “Yuan, about Shirase… I—”
“No, Chuuya.” Her hand covers his own, squeezing it reassuringly. “It wasn’t your fault. I
know what I said but I was angry and hurt, and I thought hurting you would make it easier,
but… it didn’t.”
Her voice quiets down into barely a whisper.
“Nothing made it easier. Not even time.” Then, with more force put into it… “But when I
calmed down I realised how unfair it was for you, and I felt ashamed of what I said. I know it
now.”
Her other hand comes up to Chuuya’s cheek, and her smile shines with everything Chuuya
didn’t witness her go though.
It’s not a young girl’s careless smile, but the one filled with old scars.
With sleepless nights and cried out prayers.
With years of growing into acceptance, into forgiveness.
“We were all still young and stupid back then. It was cruel and unfair and I still get
nightmares about that time, but… It wasn’t your fault, Chuuya. I don’t blame you for it, and I
know Shirase doesn’t, either. He would never.”
Because no matter what happened in the past and no matter the mistakes they all made – they
were friends.
They are that, even if Fate ripped them apart.
Even if they had to go their separate ways, learning on their own how to live with their
mistakes and how to overcome grief, how to accept pain and not drawn in self–loathing and
hatred—
It’s each other’s smiles that they grew up with. It’s them that they always held in their hearts,
even if, with time, they allowed other people inside, too.
Chuuya’s lips tremble, but he returns the smile Yuan offers him.
He never knew it, not really, but this is what he wished to hear all this time.
Dazai, Kouyou, Adam, Verlaine… everyone told him it wasn’t his fault, and Chuuya believed
them. Deep inside, he knew they were right. But it’s Yuan that he needed to hear it from to
fully forgive himself.
It’s her forgiveness that finally places the last broken piece into its rightful place, the last
crack sealing closed.
“...thank you.”
“You’ve been punishing yourself for this all this time, haven’t you?”
Chuuya’s lips part, then close again. He wants to deny it, he wants to believe that he did
everything he could to enjoy the life he’s been offered, but—
“...how do you know?”
—she’s right.
Even if he hides it well, even if he does accept the happiness and love he shares with
everyone – deep inside, he’s been suffering all this time. Over the years, that part of him grew
smaller – or rather, the other, happier, parts of him grew bigger – but it never disappeared.
A wound that stopped bleeding but never closed.

“Because I’ve been doing the same.” Her hand slides down from Chuuya’s cheek to rest on
her other hand, over the redhead’s lap where she holds onto him. “For what I said, for how
helpless I felt back then.”
“Yuan—”
“I never moved on, you know?”
The lightness of her sigh, the melodic tone – it’s not the same as Chuuya’s guilt that lurks in
the deepest corners of his heart. What she speaks of is her suffering, but it doesn’t feel like it.
Not anymore.
Like she’s not only grown used to it, but also accepted the pain as a part of herself, welcomed
it until it stopped hurting and only a scar remained.
Only a reminder.
Only an old wish she carries with herself into the future.
“From Shirase. I never loved anyone else.”
It stirs something in Chuuya, a fight between relief and pity fighting in his chest. “...he
wouldn’t hate you if you did.”
Even if Chuuya once asked Dazai for the exact same thing, a request born out of fear – even
if Dazai were to break that promise, in a life where Death takes one of them away, Chuuya
wouldn’t hate him for it.
“I know.” Yuan murmurs. “But I don’t want to love anyone else like that. I…”When another
long strand of hair falls over her face, Yuan chuckles to herself as she tucks it away. “I’m fine
this way. I’ll wait until I see Shirase again.”
“See… him?”
“Of course.” She sounds confident, more than Chuuya ever felt himself to be. “He promised
me a wedding and I’ll get it no matter what, even if I have to wait until another life.”
Chuuya blinks, too stunned to say anything back.
But then, he can't anymore. HIs eyes close and a free, genuine laugh rings straight from his
chest, filling the small hut with a melody it hasn’t heard in years.
“Yeah, I—I can see that happening.”
He wipes a tear from under his eye, his smile only widening when he sees Yuan’s growing
pout.
“How rude.” The woman huffs, and it earns her another wave of laughter.
“No, no, really.” Catching his breath, this time it’s Chuuya who pats her shoulder in
reassurance. “I’m sure Shirase is preparing something special as we speak.”
He doesn’t need to Yuan to convince him—
“Trust me.”
—he knows Shirase is waiting for her, behind the door to where Death has led him to.
“You have to visit again.” Yuan’s gaze is unwavering – stubborn, even – and her grip around
Chuuya’s hands is surprisingly strong despite the faint tremble of her fingers. “Or I’ll come to
you and cause a scene.”
The redhead chuckles, already imagining that in his head. “You know what? That does sound
tempting.”
“Chuuya.”
“I will, I will. I promise.”
They’ve been talking for a long time, catching up on everything they missed in each other’s
lives, but it’s already past noon and, according to Yuan, Akira should be coming back any
time now. He wouldn’t mind meeting the boy, he would actually like to meet him, but… it’s
not a good idea.
Because, for now, Akira may be a child, but soon enough he’ll start noticing things and if he
were to ever ask why Chuuya doesn’t change no matter how much time passes—
Neither of them would want to answer that.
Yuan and Chuuya were thrown into the world where yōkai reign without ever being given a
choice. The redhead has become a part of it and Yuan can lead a peaceful life with the
knowledge of what is luring in the shadows – but a human life is always easier while
shrouded in blissful unawareness.
Akira doesn’t have to know about demons.
Out of all of them, he can walk through life without more fears and troubles than necessary.
“But you also have to come over sometimes.” He sends Yuan a smirk. “To meet my husband
and the others.”
Yuan’s eyes widen as she nods slowly. “Right… the one that eats children?”
A snort. “He doesn’t do that. That part of the legend is bullshit.”
Chuuya knows it – he asked Dazai about it once, just to make sure.
“You’ll be fine.” He reassures her. “And I think you’ll like Ryuu and Gin, too.”
“The wolf siblings?”
“That’s them, yes.”
“Right. Okay.” She nods to herself again. “I’ll try, but I’ll need to get someone to look after
Akira first, or he will follow me.”
Chuuya chuckles at that. “You know, he really feels like Shirase.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” Shaking her head, Yuan lets go of Chuuya’s hands and crosses her
arms over her chest. “I bet that idiot is whispering something to him while Akira is asleep,
from wherever he is, trying to get him to put me into an early grave.”
“Or he’s trying to keep you entertained.”
“How about keeping me sane, huh?”
They both end up laughing some more, reminiscing about the old days. It’s only when
Chuuya notices a distant voice coming from the village that he knows it’s time to go. Akira is
still too far to see him, but it won’t stay that way for much longer.
“He’ll be here soon.” The redhead says, letting out a happy sigh. “I guess it’s my cue to go.”
There’s an apologetic smile on Yuan’s lips and hesitation in her eyes – unwillingness to part
just yet.
“Let’s meet again soon, okay?” She nudges him. “I don’t feel like wasting any more time.”
Neither does Chuuya, even if he feels the flow of it differently to how she feels it. “We’ll
meet so often you’ll get sick of me again.”
A huff. “I’ll get you to do some errands for me if that happens.”
“Not only taking my house but also pushing your work onto me? How barbaric.”
“Oh, shut it.” Yuan pokes him in the arm, but when Chuuya leans slightly to the side, his gaze
softening, she knows Akira must be close. “Okay, go now. I still have to prepare lunch.”
With a content smile, Chuuya takes a step back, and a second before he disappears among the
trees—
“I’ll see you soon, Yuan.”

Chapter End Notes
A quick summary of the timeline, in Chuuya's human age (which is the same as Yuan's
age):
20 - meeting Dazai
22 - wedding + Shibusawa fight
26 (but his body looks still 22) - waking up after Shibusawa fight
28 (but his body looks still 23/24 and will stay that way) - Chuuya becomes a non-
human~
+/- 29 - Dazai tells Chuuya about Mori/the foxes chapter
34 - reunion with Yuan (who is and looks like 34)
Aaaaaaand she's back! But no, Akira isn't Shirase's reincarnation, I just wanted her to
find SOME happiness in having a family that she can pretend is hers and Shirase's
because I put her through enough pain :')
One Story Ends, Another One Begins
Chapter Notes
Having Yuan back in his life marked a point in Chuuya’s life – both a beginning and an end.
The guilt that had been a constant guest in Chuuya’s heart for many years now finally had its
last dance, fading away as the words of forgiveness took its place and melted the ice cold
thorns sealing that part of his heart. The last of the past’s shadows gave in into the light of the
future, and once the redhead stepped out of Yuan’s hut and back into the forest—
A page was turned.
The shackles of Chuuya’s human years all fell to the ground.
His old life stopped clutching at his soul, finally allowing itself to be something Chuuya
would choose to look back at, not something that would demand him to never let it go, or
move on.
And it’s with the steps that led him back home that Chuuya’s new life was finally allowed to
bloom freely, nothing holding it back anymore.
Now, even the powers that live inside of him seem easier to lead.
The flame in his chest more content than before, calmer despite never fully subduing.
It would be an overstatement to say Chuuya is looking forward to every new day, because he
is not – simply because they all blend together so easily for him now – but there are special
occasions that the redhead can’t wait to greet.
The ones he would celebrate in the past, of course, but not only those.
If there’s one thing Chuuya has quietly been trying to orchestrate for a while now, it’s…
“...I think I’m getting nervous.”
Chuuya looks up at Yuan with raised brows and a teasing smirk stretching his lips. “You?
Nervous? Did someone get soft with age?”
It earns the redhead a pinch in the arm but he doesn’t mind it. He expected some kind of
consequences to come after that comment.
“Unlike some cheeky brat, I am mature enough to admit when I’m feeling uncertain.” Yuan
huffs at him, then propers up her hairdo as they continue walking through the forest. “It has
nothing to do with being soft.”
“Well, it kind of does.”

“Does not.”
“Does too.”
“Does not!”
“Who’s a brat now, huh?”
“Still you.” Tilting her head to the side, Yuan gestures at herself. “Do I look like a brat to
you?”
Chuuya’s smirk loses its teasing edge as he looks at the face of a woman, not a girl that she
used to be. “Yeah.” He says, weakly elbowing his friend. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Chuuya.”
“It’s not flattery, you do look very nice.”
“Yeah, well…” Tucking a strand of pink hair behind one ear, Yuan mumbles the words,
almost shy. “I need to look presentable when meeting your friends and husband for the first
time.”
They cross the faint line of blue flames stretching from both sides of the small, fox statue
buried in the branches. Yuan can’t see it and she’s too busy worrying to notice where they
are, but Chuuya can already hear the voices coming from his home.
“You’d be fine with anything, I promise.”
Yuan waves her hand dismissively. “Says you.”
“I assure you, Dazai and—”
“You, them, doesn’t matter. I have my standards.”
Shaking his head, Chuuya doesn’t try to fight her anymore – he knows he won’t be able to
convince her otherwise, it’s far too late for that. Instead, he lets her proper up her clothes and
hair again as they get closer, the view of the house already peeking from behind the trees.
And the moment they step out of the forest and into the open space—
“Welcome.”
—the Akutagawa siblings don’t waste even a second before greeting them both.
If Chuuya were to be honest, he must admit that he finds it more than amusing, the way they
all act. It’s almost the same as with uncle Adam in the beginning – there’s this overly polite
layer to their expressions, hesitation threaded between well–trained words and gestures.
Yuan is by far not the first human they meet.

But she is the only one that they meet that had an… unpleasant first encounter with the yōkai
world.
For the first few heartbeats, Yuan only stares at the two wolves with wide eyes, blinking
slowly, and when her lips part…
“Oh.” She seems to have forgotten how she was lecturing Chuuya about etiquette just a few
minutes ago. “I remember you.”
Ryuu and Gin exchange a look, unsure of whether that’s a good, or bad, thing. But before
they can come to a conclusion, the woman speaks up again, remembering her own words
from before.
“I mean—I’m sorry.” She offers them both a bright and somewhat awkward smile. “Thank
you for having me and…” Her voice quiets down, the echo of a laugh fading from it. “Thank
you for that time, too.”
Both Gin’s and Ryuu’s eyes widen visibly at the mention of their ‘first meeting’, their eyes
growing even more uncertain.
“It’s…” Ryuu looks at his sister, searching for help.
“Ah, I don’t mean to bring the mood down.” Yuan brightens up, waving her hands at them. “I
just wanted to thank you for saving us, that’s all. Here—”
She reaches for the not so small bag hanging from her wrist, opening it up to take out a neatly
wrapped package, the material around it looking expensive and the aroma coming from
inside a mix of several floral accents.
“It’s not much but please accept it.”
When Yuan offers them the gift, it’s Gin who takes it, curiosity sparking in her eyes the
longer she holds it.
“It’s tea leaves.” Yuan explains, and even if Gin’s ears and tail aren’t visible, Chuuya knows
they would be perked up right now. “Three different kinds. I don’t have much else to offer…”
Gin shakes her head and bows slightly, a smile painting her face. “Thank you.”
Watching the whole exchange from the side, Chuuya can’t stop the warm feeling overtaking
his chest. Admittedly, he was a little worried about how it would go, mostly because he
couldn’t be sure how Yuan would react to meeting the siblings again, when the only other
time she has ever met them was in Ace’s cave.
But, by the looks of it, he shouldn’t have worried about that part.
Now, the true show is still yet to begin…
Call him a bad husband, or a terrible friend, Chuuya has been looking forward to this day
ever since reconnecting with Yuan – he’s been looking forward to seeing just how awkward
she and Dazai can get with each other.
Sure, the kitsune has grown more used to humans in the past couple of years. He can, and
usually does, hold a conversation with uncle Adam and he’s gotten less reluctant about
talking to Ranpo whenever the man visits, too. But they are all the humans that he has known
for a long time now.
Yuan, on the other hand, is someone new.
She’s Chuuya’s friend, the person he considers a part of his family even after all the years
they’ve spent apart, and Dazai knows how important that is for the redhead.
Which means he can’t get on her bad side, or he’ll be getting on Chuuya’s bad side as well.
It’s probably why he hasn’t moved from the front entrance at all and is instead waiting for the
rest of them to come forward – the fox is buying himself time to come up with a strategy, and
the sole sight of it is enough to make Chuuya’s lips tremble with suppressed laughter.
Not that Yuan looks much different from Dazai, once they start walking again.
She doesn’t seem scared of the kitsune, at least not as far as Chuuya can tell, but her body
looks stiff and she’s clearly going through many, many different ways to greet Dazai in her
head. Whatever she has decided on, however, must have fled her mind before she could voice
it, because once they reach the entrance and the fox is right there—
“...”
“...”
—both Dazai and Yuan remain silent, only staring at each other.
Ryuu and Gin’s expressions don’t show it as much as Chuuya’s but there is no doubt the
wolves are appreciating the awkwardness just as much.
“Ehm.” Chuuya clears his throat, stepping closer to stand between Yuan and the kitsune.
“This is Dazai.”
Yuan bows her head in a small, polite greeting.
“Dazai, this is Yuan.”
…and the fox does exactly the same.
“Right.” Wetting his lips to keep himself from bursting out laughing, Chuuya points at the
door. “Shall we go inside?”
—
//I’ll go help them in the kitchen for a bit, okay?//
—or that’s what Chuuya said, right before Yuan made sure to send him a pointed glare of
betrayal as the redhead made his way out of the room.
Now, it’s only the two of them.
Her and… him.
The husband–kitsune that has barely said anything since their first greeting.
The tea Gin brewed for them earlier stands on the low table, Yuan’s cup in front of her and
Dazai’s in front of him. They’re sitting across the table from each other, both looking
anywhere but at one another.
This must be Chuuya’s plan to get them to open up, Yuan can tell so much. She used to do the
same to him and Shirase whenever the two would get into arguments when they were all kids
– a perfect strategy that has now turned against her.
The atmosphere is awkward and it’s driving Yuan insane.
She faced many people in the past, some of them disgustingly unpleasant to be around, and
she’ll be damned if meeting a quiet but not necessarily rude demon will be her defeat. She
has an image to unhold – pride to keep.
“So…” Her voice trails off, and Dazai’s gaze slides to her face, one brow arched in a silent
question. “I said it to the other two before but, you know, thanks.”
Her fingers tap the edge of the cup, a way to stay calm.
“For saving us.”
When the only reply she gets is another nod, Yuan tries again.
“And… thank you for taking care of Chuuya after that.”
Maybe it’s because Chuuya’s name was mentioned, or maybe it’s the sincerity in Yuan’s
voice – whichever it is, it’s enough to draw Dazai’s voice again, however brief his answer
may be.
“Of course.” The kitsune says. “But I don’t need thanks for that.”
It doesn’t sound like it was meant to be spiteful, Yuan can tell that much despite not knowing
the fox too well, or at all.
“I know, but I wanted to say it.”

Once more, Dazai offers her a nod, and that’s when Yuan takes a deep breath to gather
courage for her next question. It has to be now, or she’ll never be able to say it again, there
will never be another moment that would fit as well as this one.
“Um, Dazai…–san?”
Her gaze falls from the kitsune’s face and down to the cup of tea on the table in front of her.
Her fingers brush it lazily, a melancholic veil falling over her expression as the words
slipping form her lips ring barely above a whisper—
“Could it be that you resent me?” She asks.
It’s not an accusation.
If anything, it’s an acknowledgement – both to Dazai and to herself.
“For what I said to Chuuya back then.”
Silence follows Yuan’s question.
She can’t see it, only her own reflection looking back at her from the surface of her drink, but
Dazai’s gaze never leaves her face – never stops searching her expression to understand her
feelings before he speaks of his own.
He’s always been adept at reading others, friend or foe, human or demon. It’s not as easy
when he can’t see the other person’s eyes – the window of their soul, as some like to preach –
and Yuan isn’t looking at him right now, but…
Her voice holds all the truth.
All the confessions she doesn’t voice directly anymore.
“...I did.”
Yuan doesn’t act surprised, it is one of the answers she has been preparing herself for, even if
it’s not the one she thought she’d get. Instead, the woman continues to smile to herself while
looking at the cup, humming quietly as she lets Dazai’s words settle in her mind.
“But not anymore.”
“Is that so? I’m glad, then.”
“Do you?” Dazai tilts his head when Yuan looks up at him, a similar expression to his on her
face – with one brow raised high in a question. “Do you resent me?”
He doesn’t specify for what exactly, there would be too much to count.
For all of it, perhaps.
Yuan inhales deeply, thinking of her answer before—

“No, I don't.” Then, she covers her lips as a weak chuckle escapes her. “I am a little bit
jealous, though.”
One of Dazai’s tails stirs behind him. “Of me?”
“More like… of the chance that you got and I didn’t.” Yuan shrugs. “But that’s just me being
human, I guess.”
A hum. “Perhaps.”
Another long pause stretches between them as Yuan glances at the door, not seeing any signs
of Chuuya coming back. A cheeky, bratty, traitorous friend she got herself, isn’t it?
“You know…” She takes a sip of her tea, thinking of how to fill their time here with
something. “You’re surprisingly well–mannered towards a human. Not that I expected
anything else, of course not, it’s just—” She sends Dazai an apologetic smile. “Chuuya told
me a few things.”
The kitsune huffs a small laugh. “Of course, he did.”
“Are you trying this hard with me to make him happy?”
“For the most part, yes.”
“The ‘most’ part?” Yuan hums, intrigued. “There’s another reason?”
“I don’t have a liking towards humankind if that’s the idea you got. I merely came to a
conclusion that the humans Chuuya surrounds himself with are…” Dazai’s lips stretch into a
smirk, one of his fangs flashing from behind them. “...not so bad.”
Slowly, Yuan nods. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Should she really? There’s no way to know for sure.
But that’s what she’ll do, for the peace of mind if nothing else.
Then, after taking another sip, Yuan puts the cup back on the table and sits more comfortably
on the cushion, leaning to the side to support herself on one arm.
“Do you want to hear a story of how Chuuya once fell into a crate of flowers and started
crying because the flowers were tickling him and he couldn’t get out?”
There’s a flash of red in Dazai’s eye, something Yuan didn’t expect but won’t bother asking
about when—
“Oh? Do tell.”
—
Before Chuuya could get enough of talking to Yuan and watching how Dazai slowly opens
up to the conversation even when they aren’t talking about the redhead’s childhood, hours
pass by in what feels like a heartbeat.
No matter how much Chuuya would like her to, Yuan can’t stay any longer.
She needs to pick up Akira from one of Ino–san’s granddaughters looking after the boy for
the day. Besides, she isn’t like the rest of them – Yuan needs sleep on a daily basis.
And so, their first meeting comes to an end as the sun nears the horizon.
But it’s only the first of many more that are yet to come.
With Chuuya’s shifting perception of time, he doesn’t always notice how much time flies
between their meetings. Sometimes, he catches himself thinking barely two days have gone
past when, in fact, a week slipped through his fingers. That’s why he’s even more grateful for
having Yuan close enough to remind him of the passage of time, just like the letters Guivre
delivers him are a constant reminder of his monthly visits to uncle Adam’s shrine.
They are some of the constants in Chuuya’s life.
Much like the birthdays the redhead stubbornly makes everyone celebrate.
Or the seasons changing around the forest.
Or the days that come with memories both good and bad—
Or rather, the nights that carry them.
Because by the time the first fires light up around the stalls of the Autumn Festival, the sky is
already painted with the darkest shades of black, not that Chuuya has ever seen it be of any
other colour, no matter how many times he comes here.
It’s been a long time since enjoying the Autumn Festival became this easy for him. There is
no guilt, or fear, lurking around the corners of his mind as he and Dazai walk down the
endless paths of stalls and illuminations lighting up the area along them. Passing by larger
groups of demons of all kinds, or bumping into one of them, feels like the most natural of all
things and not a trap laid out to wait for all and any mistake Chuuya may make.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t give in to Dazai’s stubborn act of protectiveness and makes
sure to stick close to him at all times, letting the fox hold his hand whenever he feels like it.
It’s a pretence, nothing more – they both know it.
The kitsune has long acknowledged Chuuya’s ability to defend himself, should anything
happen; he simply likes showing off their relationship whenever there are others around, even
if no one can actually recognise that it’s him, the mask concealing his presence always
present. Chuuya doesn’t feel the need to show it off that much but he doesn’t mind it, either.
If it’s only for one day, he’s willing to indulge the fox’s wishes without protesting too much.
They walk down the lit up paths, accompanied by laughter and music coming from all around
them, and try everything they didn’t have the chance, or strength, to try last year.
The stalls are countless, each different from the other and each seemingly new, or at least
partially different from the previous years. How the demons manage to create something
unique every year for decades and centuries – Chuuya doesn’t know.
But it is impressive.
Sometimes, the two of them meet someone they know.
They have run into the Akutagawa siblings and Atsushi shortly after arriving but they’ve
parted their ways just as quickly. Chuuya thinks he saw Ranpo’s tousled, black hair around
one of the sweets stalls, and he’s also almost certain Yosano was with him this time. She isn’t
as busy as she was back when Arahabaki’s essence was cursing trouble for the entire yōkai
world and, hence, for her.
Some years, Adam and Verlaine come here, too. The first time it was Chuuya who half–
forced them to experience it themselves but, ever since, it’s not uncommon to see the two of
them walking around with Ranpo and Yosano. Today, however, the redhead isn’t sure if he’ll
come across them – it’s a lot to take in and Adam… Well, he doesn’t get any younger.
Kouyou is a rare guest at the Festival, in the past years of coming here, Chuuya has only met
her once. Oda and Ango, however, are anything but a rare occurrence – find a curry stand and
you’ll find the god with his guardian spirit there. Every single time.
After their first meeting with Atsushi’s… friends, it happened only once more that they saw
Kunikida walking around the Festival, many years ago. On the other hand, the tengu siblings
that were with him the first time Chuuya met all of them can be spotted every year, and today
is no different.
Earlier, Hirotsu greeted them briefly before disappearing into one of the tents from which
smoke of all colours was flowing out. He’s one of the people who can’t be tricked by Dazai’s
mask, though he’s also not the most talkative type out there and doesn’t take too much of
their time with idle conversations.
As far as Chuuya is aware, neither Mori or Atsushi’s god visit the Festival. Apparently, they
say they’re too old for it, having been there when the tradition was established, and too busy.
Much like every year, this is the one day anything can happen, planned or not.
When everyone’s paths are bound to cross and, for better or worse—
There are no exceptions to it.
Him and Dazai are standing next to a crowd surrounding a small stage with a dancer
performing on it, a dancer with two pairs of colourful wings that seem to illuminate in the
dark on their own. Everyone’s eyes are on the winged figure, including Chuuya’s, but the
redhead can still feel it when Dazai’s body tenses up.
The kitsune doesn’t seem alarmed per se, but the easiness of his touch on Chuuya’s hand is
gone, replaced by a stiff hold. His aura darkens, growing colder than Chuuya has witnessed it
to be in many years.
He doesn’t move, or growl, or try to pull Chuuya away from here.
It’s only the distant, heavily displeased feeling that the redhead gets from their bond when he
focuses on searching for it. Something has clearly made Dazai mad all of a sudden but
Chuuys is neither sure what it possibly could have been or…
Why the kitsune is holding himself back.
They’re at a Festival so it’s obvious that he wouldn’t unleash his flames without clear
provocation – hopefully, Dazai wouldn’t do that at all here, no matter the situation – but,
usually, he would try to drag Chuuya away from the source of his rage, and he isn’t doing any
of that.
He’s unnaturally still and with a blood–freezing gaze. He doesn’t even look away from the
dancer, not even for a second.
If it wasn’t for the mask he’s wearing on the side of his face, everyone here would have run
away long ago, including the performer. But like this, with only Chuuya sensing something is
wrong, the crowd continues to clap their hands.
Continues to cheer and laugh and—
That’s when Chuuya hears it.
Hears him.
Not too close to where Chuuya is standing but a few stalls away from here, a voice that the
redhead recognises despite not having heard it in almost two decades.
He turns his head towards it more on instinct than as a conscious choice, and the first thought
that crosses his mind is—
He’s older now, Sigma.
Of course, he would be. It’s been almost twenty years since then.
But despite how his appearance may have changed, his hair remains just as long and silky as
Chuuya remembers it, tied up in a high ponytail, and his face… It may be the first time
Chuuya sees Sigma’s honest smile.
Happiness not tainted by lies.

There are two men with him, both of which the redhead also remembers – the cat and the fox
– and as soon as Chuuya’s gaze falls on them, he knows they can feel it, even if they’re trying
not to show it.
But, somehow, Sigma feels it, too.
When grey eyes that never lost the silver shine in them meet the blue ones, the music seems
to stop, colours fading in the dim light.
Sigma’s smile falls, surprise and hesitation painting his expression. It looks like he wants to
say something but doesn’t know what, or how. Like he wants to take a step forward but his
body is frozen solid—
“I can still kill them if only you ask me to.”
Dazai’s voice is casual, the threat of a promise slipping from his lips as easy as a meaningless
thought about the weather, without the fox even looking at the trio at another stall.
Deep down, he must still crave their deaths just as much as he did in the past, because Dazai
is a kitsune that does not forgive – does not forget. No matter how long it’s been and how
much better their life has gotten.
It breaks the spell that kept Chuuya’s eyes on Sigma, relaxing his mind as the redhead averts
his gaze to look up at the fox with a slightly amused twist to his lips and raised brows.
“Seriously? A bloodbath during the Festival?”
“Demons don’t really care about such things, Chibi.” Dazai glances at the redhead, the offer
still visible in the crimson eye. “I could also help you do it if you want to try it yourself.”
Even with all his training, Chuuya doubts he would stand a chance against Fyodor, or the
bakeneko. Those two caused trouble for Dazai and the Akutagawa siblings, and all of
Chuuya’s combat experience thus far comes from sparring with the demons that he’s friends
with.
It wouldn’t be the same.
It would be much more difficult, though he can’t say the idea isn’t tempting, that it doesn’t
awaken something inside his chest. A sharp urge, a challenge.
Maybe if it’s Sigma—
Taking a deep breath to calm the newfound temptation, Chuuya shakes his head and pulls
Dazai away from the crowd, in the direction opposite to where his past has caught up with
him once more.
“Just let them be. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Reluctant, Dazai follows his lead, not hiding the disappointment in his voice. “It does,
though.”
“Not to me, it doesn’t.”
It used to haunt him, the mistake of trusting the one person he shouldn't have has caused all
of the misery to fall upon all of them but—
At the end of it all, Chuuya reclaimed his future, his happiness.
Not only that, but he was also able to grasp more of it, welcoming eternity as it extended its
arms to him. He knows it was never the plan, that it’s merely a coincidence that having met
Sigma led to this. This isn’t his old friend’s atonement, it doesn’t make what happened back
then right.
This isn’t forgiveness, because Chuuya doesn’t care for it to be something so pure and
selfless. He doesn't care for it to be anything at all if he’s being honest.
But it is what he feels to be fair, for everyone.
Chuuya has his family, his friends, his love—
And he’ll let Sigma have it, too.
For as long as his limited time here stays merciful, which will be much less than Chuuya’s
anyway.
Everyone had their reasons for what they did, everyone had their own struggles and Chuuya
doesn’t need to force himself to forgive anyone in order to understand so much. Closure isn’t
needed when no one asks for it – sometimes, it’s better to let the past be washed away by the
tide of time. Forgotten.
Chuuya has already moved on.
He’s happy now.
“I told you before: I wouldn’t want you to kill him. That much hasn’t changed.”
The fox’s fingers squeeze Chuuya’s hand a bit more as he continues walking silently – both a
sign of surrender and dissatisfaction. How truly childish for someone who has lived for
several centuries, the redhead finds himself thinking.
But Chuuya isn’t his husband for nothing. He knows how to occupy Dazai’s mind and have
the kitsune forget about revenge, how to turn a sour mood into something they can both
enjoy.
“Besides…” He looks up at Dazai again, a teasing curl tugging at his lips. “There are better
ways to spend our time here.”
And, of course, it works.
Dazai’s ears perk up, intrigued, and his eye darkens. “Oh?”
“There was a forest around here, wasn’t there?”
Because even though time passes, some things will never change and some habits will never
be unlearnt. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad one, Chuuya has yet to decide for himself –
for now, he chooses not to fight it.
“My, my~” Dazai hums, all of his tails stirring at the mention of that. “How indecent of you,
Chuuya~”
The redhead rolls his eyes at the comment. “You are the one who looks like a hungry dog
right now, despite how you were sulking unfil a few seconds ago.”
“How rude. I’m a fox, not some drooling—”
“Yeah, sure.” Chuuya snorts. “It doesn’t change how you’re wagging your tails right now.”
Dazai’s eye narrows slightly as he straightens his back. “I am not.”
“But you want to.”
“Actually, I want something much different.”
Chuuya arches a brow at him, letting go of Dazai’s hand to cross his arms over his chest
instead as he looks up at him. “And what would that be, hm?”
Red flashes from behind dark bangs and Dazai’s lips stretch into a smirk, letting his sharp
fangs peek from behind them as the fox speaks.
“Are you sure you want me to say it out loud here, with other people present?”
“Since when are you so considerate, fox?”
“Since when are you not, little human?”
“Since it’s the only way to keep you from causing a scene.” Chuuya says. Then, he tilts his
head to the side, his gaze wandering all around. “But since you’re doing your best right now,
I’ll make you a deal.”
“Oh?”
With mischief dancing in the blue eyes and on his lips, the redhead takes a step towards
Dazai, bridging the distance between them as he reaches out with his arm, his hand sliding up
the kitsune’s neck and tangling in the dark locks.
“I’ll listen to whatever you have to say…”
Dazai arches a brow, his gaze locked with Chuuya’s—
“...if you catch me.”
—but then, he can only blink in confusion as the redhead’s words settle in his mind.
“Catch you?”
Chuuya doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even wait for Dazai to understand. Before the kitsune
knows it, the hand leaves his hair and faint, barely noticeable, red markings appear under
Chuuya’s skin as the redhead turns around and…
Runs away.
Fast.
It doesn’t even take a second for Dazai to lose sight of his husband in the crowd of demons
and spirits, Chuuya’s scent mixing with all the others. It’s not what Dazai expected to happen
but, now that this is what he got, it feels exhilarating.
He has always liked a good challenge.
Especially when the reward is more than worth it.
“As you wish~”
“Do you want to go after him?” Fyodor asks, while Nikolai pats Sigma on the shoulder with a
wide smile.
“We can protect you if you want to speak to him~” The cat chirps.
Sigma’s eyes continue to stare at the crowd of demons for a while longer, his throat feeling
tight and his heart heavy, but despite all the emotions that have washed over him in the past
few seconds—
“...no.”
—he knows this is where that story is meant to end.
“It’s okay.”
He turns back to the other two, offering them a smile that may feel shy right now, weakened
by the encounter from just a moment ago, but will shine with all the joy and love soon
enough. Just like it always does.
“Let’s go.” He says, and…
This time, Sigma doesn’t look back.

—
Another year flies by.
Another spring brings the sakura tree into its bloom.
Another autumn sees the world turn golden.
An ever ending cycle.
Their garden grows bigger with flowers that Verlaine brings Chuuya from his travels all
around the country, or the ones Dazai steals from other dimensions. Like this, the garden
never truly falls into its slumber, even in winter. Its coat changes over and over again, never
truly the same two times, as Chuuya continues to watch over it.
Sometimes, he picks some of the flowers to lay them on the altars he made for his parents
and for Shirase.
Other times, he gifts them to Yuan, both as decoration for her house or shop, and as an
ingredient for her teas.
It’s a life as close to perfect as Chuuya can imagine.
So much so that there are times when his mind likes to believe these days will never come to
an end. Never become anything less than they are now.
…but flowers aren’t meant to bloom forever, are they?
Chapter End Notes
*throws this at you and runs*

Astilbe
Chapter Notes
“Well, I think it’s my time to go.” Taking one more cookie from the plate in front of him,
Ranpo gets to his feet. “You’re falling asleep on me, old man.”
Adam huffs out a laugh but it falls into a yawn too easily, only proving the other man’s point.
“You’re not that much younger than me, Ranpo.” What is a decade or so, anyway? They’re
both already older than anyone else at the temple.
“Perhaps. But I’m not the one barely staying awake.”
“That’s because you’ve eaten more sugar than you’ve been breathing air.”
Taking a bite of the cookie, Ranpo waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t blame the person just
because their method is working~”
He stretches his back until some of his bones pop, then walks around the small table and
offers Adam a hand. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Despite being not that much younger and despite the small ache in his back, helping Adam
stand up from the cushion still comes to Ranpo easily. Partially because of Yosano and the
wonders she can do to a body in need, but also because…
Well, Adam lost some weight in recent years.
They both did, it’s just that Ranpo lost less of it and that he keeps on snacking on sweets, no
matter the years going past.
“I can still move on my own, you know?” Adam tries to sound offended but he still takes the
offered hand and lets Ranpo hold him by the arm as they walk out of the room, then out the
building and into the early evening air, heading for the building where the man now spends
his days.
Ranpo hums, munching on the treat. “That’s good. You can come with us to the Festival next
time in that case.”
Coughing out a laugh, Adam shakes his head. “I can move, not chase after kids and grown up
children.”
“You’re talking like an old man again, my friend~”
“Well, you keep calling me old, so I’m only trying to earn the title.”
A hum. “I see. You’re doing a great job at it, then~”

When they approach Adam’s room, Ranpo’s eyes wander around the door and the wooden
panels of the walls, wondering about the things his eyes can’t see but his mind knows are
there.
He opens the door for Adam and helps the man to lie down on the laid out futon, a cup of
water placed on a small trey right next to it. One of the younger priests must have brought it
earlier, they always do.
“Do you need anything else?” Ranpo asks, finishing up his cookie and wiping his hands on
his clothes without much care. “I can let them know to bring you something to eat if you
want.”
“It’s fine.” Adma brushes it off, letting out a content sigh as his head meets the pillow. “I
doubt I’ll stay awake long enough for it.”
“I don’t mind waking you up~”
“Are you trying to get more sweets from my priests, Ranpo?”
Ranpo chuckles into his sleeve, green eyes glittering with mischief that never seems to grow
out of him. “Maybe~”
Another sigh, a fond one “I knew it.”
“Ah, someone is reliving his private investigator days~”
“No, I’m chasing an ever–hungry monster away before he eats even the offerings to the gods
left at the temple.”
“How selfish.” Ranpo pouts. “The gods won’t eat it anyway.”
“Ranpo—”
“Yeah, yeah…”
With hands on his hips, the man offers Adam one last smile as he looks around to make sure
everything the elder man will need is within his reach and then…
“Will I see you again?” He asks, his tone light.
Adam arches a brow at the other man. “I’m not the one leaving for today, am I?”
A hum. “True. Well, then~”
But just as Ranpo reaches the sliding door, one foot already out of the room—
“You’re a good friend, Ranpo.” Adam says, his eyes already closed above a sheepish smile.
It makes the man stop and turn around, but when he does… Adam is already asleep, his chest
slowly rising and falling down in calming rhythms. He won’t see whatever face Ranpo is
showing him, won’t hear whatever words he would speak.
And yet—
“You too, Adam.”
—Ranpo feels like it’s the right choice to say it out loud anyway.
…just as it’s the right thing to do, when Yosano comes to pick him up, to tell her to send a
message for him. A message to another friend.
Twenty five years ago, covered in blood and desperate, Chuuya stumbled into a world that
would one day become his own. He’s been living among demons and spirits and gods for a
quarter of a century, not a single day of it visible on his skin. He has grown to love it, to feel
like a part of it in many ways he never thought would be possible – yet, they are.
But today, Chuuya’s heart feels human again, mortal in the face of pain and sorrow—
Today, the first flower withers before his eyes.
The one that has flourished in the shadows.
Patient, as it waited for its time to come…
“Don’t make that face, kid. It doesn’t suit you.”
A hand settles on Chuuya’s thigh, squeezing it reassuringly despite how weak its grip is,
despite the tremble of time that shakes it. Then, Adam’s head slowly turns to look to the other
side, his smile never fading from his lips and eyes.
“Same goes for you, old man.”
There’s a slight tremble to Paul’s lips as he smirks down at the other man, his eyes smiling
through the sadness falling over them like a veil.
“A brat until the very end, huh?”
“W–we can ask Yosano–sensei to come.” Chuuya whispers, covering Adam’s hand with his
own, needing to feel his uncle’s life under his palm. “Maybe she could—”
But the older man only closes his eyes and shakes his head weakly over the pillow.
“It’s okay.” He says, content with what is to come. “It’s enough.”

Chuuya remembers the nights he’d spent here as a child, curled up at Adam’s side as his tears
would dry up. Back then, his uncle held him close until the sobs would stop and blissful sleep
would take Chuuya’s sorrowful mind away into its peaceful world, but now…
Now, Adam looks frail as he lies on the old futon.
His body is thinner, exhausted by the decades of work and the last few years of his health
slowly deteriorating. His skin is paler, darker marks scattered around here and there between
the wrinkles born of laughter and worry. His hair faded into grey a long time ago, eyes lost
their shine, though they never let go of their kindness.
Despite Chuuya’s insistence of having someone look after him, of having Yosano prepare a
spell to help him fight through one sickness after another in the past few years—
Adam has always refused.
He’s seen three generations of children being born into the world after him and has watched
younger than him die, be it to injury or illness. Many considered him lucky, to be able to live
a life longer than most, but that fact alone isn’t the one that the man would be grateful for.
Adam himself found it a gift, yes, but only because it allowed him to watch his family grow
into what it has always longed to be. It has been a gift to never lose the first friend he had
ever made, never lose a child he cared for as his own.
But all this time, he’s been waiting.
He made a promise to stay here until he couldn’t anymore, he promised to keep watch over
his friends until the day would come that it would no longer be his duty—
“I… it’s my time to go, kid.”
And now, his patience can finally be laid down to rest.
Chuuya wishes he could argue, he wishes that there was a way to convince Adam to accept
the help even if it would only keep him here a few more weeks, or days – but he can’t. Not
when it’s his own heart that cries for it, and not Adam’s.
Not when his uncle seems… ready.
Relieved, even.
One of Dazai’s tails lies at Chuuya’s side, pressed to the side of his leg as he’s trying to give
the redhead the support he does and will need, but otherwise, the kitsune remains silent. He
watches the elder man laid out on the futon, listens to the weak words he speaks, but the fox
doesn’t try to be a part of this image he gets to witness.
It’s not his goodbye that needs to be said, not his tears to be spilled.
It’s Chuuya’s.
And Verlaine’s.
…and the five figures’ that stand around them, their bodies slowly fading as the shackles of
their promises have been set free.
Chuuya’s lips press together as the boy forces himself to smile and nod. He doesn’t want to
let his uncle go, he isn’t ready to live in a world where Adam isn’t there with him, but… He
made the choice to accept it the day he let go of the human life he was born to.
It’s the future without his old family that Chuuya accepted to walk towards.
And so, he can only look back on his path, seeing the people he loves being left behind as his
feet carry him forward.
“I’m… glad I got to be your uncle, Chuuya.” Adam’s voice is quiet, lacking the old
playfulness and filling the gap from it with genuine gratefulness and love.
It pulls a lone tear from the redhead, a small, trembling chuckle following it. “Me too.”
“Can I… ask you for… a favour?”
Chuuya nods, taking Adam’s hand into his own two and holding it tightly. “Of course.”
“Can you…” The corners of Adam’s lips curl weakly. “keep… Paul company… when we’re
gone?”
Every word is like a cut to Chuuya’s heart, his cheeks burning from the tears that never seem
to stop anymore.
“He… always gets so… lonely.”
Albatross and Lippmann’s weak chuckles fill the air, while Iceman’s gaze briefly falls to
Verlaine before the ghost looks away again. String Man only places a hand on Doc’s
shoulder, trying to hide how his fingers tremble with every word the man speaks.
Adam turns his head to look at Verlaine more properly, offering a smile that would have been
teasing in the past but isn’t anymore.
“Don’t you… old friend?”
Right now, it’s only honest.
Caring.
Worried about the days that would come once no one is there to stay with Paul through the
nights he doesn’t count anymore, and through the days he doesn’t share with others.
Verlaine shakes his head in disbelief, but his face hides all the truth that he doesn’t dare
speak.
“You always come up with the most absurd ideas, don’t you?”
Adam tries to laugh but, instead, his body shakes around a violent cough before he can speak
again. “And you always… went along… with them.”
Back when it was seven of them.
And later, when Adam and Verlaine were the only ones to remain.
“Of course, I did.” Verlaine tries to sound annoyed, he tries to make it into a joke, but his
voice comes out rasped. His clear eyes forcefully dry as they hold his pain away from
spilling. “Can’t have a bunch of brats running around unsupervised, can I?”
Despite everything, it draws the smallest of huffs from the ghosts standing above them and a
quiet chuckle from Adam as the man tries to roll his eyes at him.
But then…
“I’m… sorry.” Adam’s voice grows weaker with every word, and Chuuya’s breath stutters as
he holds back his sobs in front of his uncle. “For… having you… go through it… again.”
For being another friend to leave him in the end.
Another death that Verlaine can’t stop.
Looking up from Adam’s face, Chuuya sees a face he only vaguely remembers from the time
his father passed away – a face of his uncle’s grief, hidden behind a lightless smile.
Of the pain he holds within, never to be let go of.
And—
“It’s time for us, too.”
Iceman’s voice never changes, not even at a time like this, and yet – it’s his figure that
remains the most blurred, hesitant between holding on and stepping into what is waiting for
them.
Chuuya turns his head to him, the same as Verlaine, and for Adam…
For the man who’s been waiting over 50 years, despite not being able to see what Chuuya and
Paul can – it’s a sign.
“...already?” The redhead breathes out, his hands trembling despite how Dazai’s tails tries to
soothe his sorrows, his body numb to the touch that has always brought him nothing but
comfort.
String Man offers the boy a small nod, Doc rubbing his arms as their figures lose their colour.
“He’s been waiting for us all this time.”

Albatross folds his arms behind his head, smiling through the tears that don’t fall but are
there for everyone who knows him. The tears that haven't fallen in over half a century, even
at times when the ghost’s heart screamed in pain.
“It’s time for us to wait for him.” Albatross says with a shaky voice. “You know, on the other
side.”
“We’re grateful to you, Chuuya.” Doc says, shrugging slightly. “For staying with them. And
with us.”
When Lippmann looks at Verlaine, the silence feels long. Longer than Chuuya has ever seen
his friend hesitate. And when LIppmann speaks, it’s quiet, without the usual act put up
behind it—
“I know it’s selfish to ask this but…”
The ghost looks briefly at the rest of them and their smiles mirror his own as Lippmann steps
closer, placing a hand over Verlaine’s shoulder.
A touch Paul can’t feel, but will forever remember.
“If we ever come back in another life, come find us?”
From behind him, Albatross’ teasing tone chirps around a lump in the ghost’s throat. “You
said it yourself, ‘can’t leave brats to themselves’, right, old man?” He winks at Chuuya.
“Same goes for you, kid. I’ll teach you something fun next time.”
“I think it’ll be the other way around.” Iceman mutters. “You will be the ‘kid’ then.”
String Man lets out a tired sigh, his figure barely visible now. “Albatross going through his
rebellious phase again sounds like trouble.”
“Hey—!”
“I guess you have no choice, Paul.” The ghost ignores his friend to meet the man’s gaze one
last time. “You’re the only one who can tame him.”
At his side, Doc giggles weakly. “All of us, probably.”
“See?” Lippmann’s smile trembles, his voice a thread away from breaking. “You have to
come find us now.”
Verlaine’s eyes widen, lips parting on a shuddering breath—
But he doesn’t cry.
Not here. Not now.
Instead, he only sends them off with the same smile as the last time they were all parting
ways into different worlds.
“I will.” Verlaine says. “I promise.”
And it’s with these two words that the five figures fade away completely, each of them
smiling one last time at Chuuya as the last of their contours disappear into thin air—
“See you next time, kid.”
—before they’re gone.
Before they finally rest, waiting for the last of them to join.
Blinking away his tears, Chuuya stares at the wall, at where his friends said their last
goodbyes. They never changed in the end – the faces that Chuuya grew to hold dear as a child
are the same ones that he’ll remember from this day, as he bid them farewell.
“Are… they… gone?”
At the sound of Adam’s words, both Chuuya and Verlaine look back at the man staring
tiredly at the ceiling, his eyes unseeing.
“Y–yeah.” The redhead swallows down a sob, brushing his thumb over Adam’s hand. “They
—they said they’ll wait for you there.”
No answer, only a pair of eyes slowly fluttering shut.
“Live… happy… Chuuya… okay?” Each word comes out a breath, barely audible.
The redhead brushes his lips over Adam’s fingers, one of his hands coming down to rest on
top of Dazai’s tail – for support, for help, for the feeling of having someone close. “I–I will, I
promise. And–and I’ll make sure uncle Paul doesn’t get lonely, so you don’t have to worry
about him, okay? I will, I really will, I…”
Adam hums, his features relaxing.
“P…aul?”
It’s only Adam’s eyes that move to look at him, fighting with the weight of their eyelids to
stay open long enough, and Verlaine can’t be sure if the man can still see him or not, but—
“Yeah?”
—it doesn’t matter.
When his friend calls out for him, be it in the darkness or in the light, Verlaine always
answers him. He always has and, no matter the fate that awaits him, he always will.
“Will…” If only he could, Verlaine knows Adam would grin at him right now. “... you…
cry… for… me… too?”
And he also knows what his old friend means, even with the fewest words.
“You…” Verlaine smirks at him, one of his hands covering Adam’s. “You wish, you
annoying brat.”
With one last tremble of his lps on a smirk that doesn’t hold any strength, Adam’s eyes fall
shut and—
“G…good…”
With one last breath, his chest never rises again.
There is only silence.
Finally, Chuuya’s smile falters and his pain rocks his heart. Hugging Adam’s hand to his
chest, the redhead sobs over his uncle’s body, his cries echoing in the small house and carried
by the wind around the temple.
He knew he couldn’t keep Adam with him forever
He accepted to stay behind and watch his family go when he chose the heart he loves more
than his own, but—
It doesn’t make it any easier.
Any less unbearably painful.
It leaves a hole inside of his heart, hollow and in the shape of the memories that he will never
be able to relive. Of the voice he’ll never hear again no matter how much he pleads for it. Of
the man, who will never hug him again.
Dazai’s hand rests on his back, comforting with its presence alone but… not enough.
Not today.
Not for this.
While Verlaine…
It’ll only be many hours from now, when he’ll stand alone in front of the six grave stones that
mark the six friends he has buried – only then will he whisper his goodbye.
His apology.
It’s the silence of the forest that will hear his words and witness his tears, and it’s among the
light of the stars shining down on him that Verlaine will see it.
What exactly it is, he won’t be sure.
Fate’s pity and his last wish being granted, or maybe a memory tricking his mind among the
darkness of the night. Verlaine won’t be able to tell and no will grant him an answer for it.
But it’ll be there.

A figure smaller and more cheerful than the one he watched being laid to rest, a teenager
laughing with his full lungs as five other figures ruffle his hair and return the smiles that died
a long time ago.
It’ll disappear before he can see it clearly.
Before he can bury it into his memory, but…
It’ll be enough.
It will have to be.
Chuuya can hear the doors to their room sliding shut behind Dazai, the spell placed on every
door silencing the sounds of the Akutagawa siblings and Verlaine moving around the house
in the distance.
It hasn’t even been a day.
It’s been hours.
It feels like less than a second—
“Are you okay?”
Chuuya’s mind feels numb, his throat dry, and his eyes sting from staying open. He’s
standing in the middle of the room, his back facing the kitsune, and he doesn’t move to turn
around even once the question breaks the silence between them.
Is he okay?
That’s what Dazai is asking, isn’t it?
He’s asking if Chuuya can hear him, if he can feel himself over the layer of numbness
covering his mind, if he can taste the fresh air and not suffocate on the loneliness it brings, if
he can look past the image flashing before his eyes whenever he closes them, if he can be
okay when uncle Adam is gone—
It hasn’t even been a day.
It’s been hours.
And, yet, the tears fill his eyes again, burning on his skin as they trail down the same paths as
before. Chuuya didn’t think he had any of them left anymore but now, as his dry eyes fill
with salty sorrows again, it comes all too naturally.
He doesn’t answer Dazai, doesn’t even offer a weak shake.
Instead, Chuuya covers his face with both hands, his nails digging into his skin and chest
heaving as his voice comes out in a rasped, pained scream.
Not a sob.
A scream.
Because no, Chuuya is not okay.
It’s been so long since the last time he lost someone dear to him that he doesn’t know how to
handle it anymore. The pain that digs into his heart and insides with hundreds upon hundreds
of needles, the storm raging in his mind, showing him the memories and images forming
through his blurred vision—
It’s too much.
It is not okay.
Dazai’s arms slide around Chuuya’s waist and the redhead tries to shake them off, he tries to
push the kitsune away.
“LET GO!”
Because Dazai doesn't understand. He can’t.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!”
Because Dazai doesn’t share this with him.
“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!”
Because it’s Dazai that Chuuya chose over everything else—
“WHY ARE YOU—”
Because it’s Dazai, who refuses to let go.
“Why…” Chuuya's voice breaks down. “Why did he have to leave?”
No matter the fighting and thrashing and broken insults, Dazai’s arms and tails hold Chuuya
close through it all. His chest is pressed to Chuuya’s back, lips brushing his scalp as the fox
stays quiet and listens to everything the redhead throws at him.
Until insults melt into broken screams again.
Until those melt into sobs.
Until Chuuya’s cries find their rest in silence.

“I’m sorry,” are the only words Dazai whispers to him that night, and he repeats it for many
more days and nights to come. Sometimes it’s to show compassion and let Chuuya know he
isn’t alone. Sometimes it’s because he feels the need to apologise for… well, for everything.
For being maybe not the reason behind it, but the choice with it.
One day, it’s because Dazai truly cannot grasp the kind of pain his husband is going through,
just like he couldn’t understand it when Chuuya’s friend was killed. How could he possibly,
when he has only ever grazed the fear of loving the person he loves and never truly
experienced the pain for what it is?
There isn’t much Dazai can do for Chuuya to ease his sorrows but… No matter how helpless,
he’ll stay by his side.
Until the time comes that grief turns into mourning.
And mourning into acceptance.
And acceptance…
Into the day Chuuya finds the strength to move on.
“Man, you were so wrinkled!” Albatross burst out into laughs, poking the boy’s cheeks
playfully.
“I must admit.” Lippmann says. “Grey hair did suit you quite well.”
Iceman nods in agreement, String Man chuckling to himself next to him.
“But really?” Doc lets out a heavy sigh as he pats the boy’s shoulder. “How can you stay that
ignorant about your hearts despite growing so old? Were all my lessons nothing to you?”
“He probably forgot about them.”
“I bet he didn’t even listen in the first place~”
“I’m not you, Albatross.” Adam grins. “I listen when others speak to me.”
“The old you does.” String Man points out. “This one never did that.”
“Excuse you?”
“He’s right.” Doc agrees.

Lippmann tilts his head, blinking innocently at the other boy. “Didn’t this whole thing start
because you would ignore what Paul was asking you to do?”
“He doesn’t count!”
“That way me not listening to you doesn’t count, either~”
But Iceman doesn’t let him have that. “Albatross, you’ve never listened to anyone—”
“Huuuh, are we sticking with the nickname then?” Albatross ignores him, waving his hand
dismissively. “Didn’t mine mean something rude, though…?”
“Nope.” Adam is quick to answer. “It fits perfectly.”
“Ah, is that so~”
“Yes.” Iceman says.
String Man pats the boy’s back playfully. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you think he’ll—?”
“Um…” Another voice, one that none of them recognises, makes all six of the boys quiet
down and look back at the two people standing nearby.
A man with long, dark hair and golden eyes, and a woman with a kind, warm smile and curly
locks, both of them older than any of the boys staring back at them.
Two people that none of them has ever seen before. That none of them can recognise, even if
the man and the woman know exactly who the group of young men are.
Because they’ve always been watching. From here.
From a place that may look like that world but… isn’t it.
The two of them step forward, their eyes looking at Adam with familiarity that, somehow,
feels right – with two gazes that, to Adam’s mind, feel like the one he knows so well and has
witnessed for years until now.
“Thank you.” The woman says, reach out to take Adams hand between her own two. “For
taking care of Chuuya.”
The man’s hand settles on Adam’s shoulder. “And Paul.” He looks from him to the other five,
his golden eyes filled with affection. “Thank you all for being there all this time.”
“You…” Adam’s eyes widen, much like everyone else’s. “...are…”
But he doesn’t finish his question.
He doesn’t have to, not really.

Instead, Adam looks around him, seeing his friends coming to the same realisation, and then
he offers the couple a smile that looks older than the body that wears it. Wiser.
“Of course.”
He has never needed thanks for that, anyway. He would gladly do it all over again, because
both Chuuya and Verlaine are, and always will be, his—
“Thank you for letting me be a part of their family.”
Chapter End Notes
:")
.......1/5
Marigolds and Lilies
Chapter Notes
It hasn’t even been that long since the last time Chuuya found himself in a situation similar to
this one. It’s not quite the same, not as freshly new and not as close to where it hurts the most
– but that doesn’t mean there is no ache in the redhead’s heart.
Because it’s there.
A new cut over older wounds.
It has been barely five years since Chuuya came face to face with loss and, now, it lays itself
before him once again—
“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay longer?” The redhead asks, turning around to look at
the man one last time.
“It’s fine~” Ranpo waves at them from the futon, a cheerful smile shining on a pale face.
“I’m happy you came by at all~”
—but this time around, Chuuya won’t be there to look into the eyes of the inevitable.
The Akutagawa siblings were here before them, Verlaine with them, but they all left soon
after him and the kitsune showed up. It wasn’t easy to understand what sort of emotions their
faces hid. There was acceptance among it all, pensive sadness that has already seen it all
before but persistently struggles to accept the worst when it happens so close.
But they didn’t look distraught, at least from what Chuuya could tell. There were no tears in
their eyes – only a goodbye.
Dazai has already stepped out of the room, looking back at Ranpo and Chuuya from the
doorway when the redhead doesn’t seem eager to go just yet.
It may not have been as often as with his uncles, or with Kouyou, but there were many times
when Chuuya would visit Yosano’s clinic for the sole purpose of meeting with Ranpo again.
He’d bring the snacks he made, or sometimes they would go around human settlements
together, aimlessly strolling around the world they both abandoned.
Ranpo’s cheerful personality was like a blow of fresh air when Chuuya’s days would
succumb into darkness and he needed a break from the faces he sees every day. The man
always knew which advice to give and he would never sugar coat it for him.
Ranpo, he…
He isn’t the closest friend Chuuya has, or has ever had.

But he is an important one. Someone dear.
Someone who was there through all of the ups and downs ever since Chuuya first stepped
into the yōkai world.
The redhead always knew a day would come when they wouldn’t be able to go out together
anymore, especially after Adam’s passing. His uncle’s death was a reminder of how feeble
human life is, of how cruel time’s touch can be.
He knew, and yet—
“I’ll bake something good next time.” A wishful smile settles on Chuuya’s lips as he speaks
around a lump forming in his throat. “So wait for it here, okay?”
Even though he knows Ranpo won’t wait. He can’t.
Even though they both know the older man is only putting up a show so as to not worry them
any more than he already is—
“Of course~” Ranpo chirps weakly, green eyes meeting blue ones. “I wouldn’t dare to miss
it.”
Chuuya’s lips part, then close again, uncertain of whether the words that hide behind them
won’t make the illusion of hope fade away.
So, instead, the boy only nods.
First at Ranpo, then at Yosano, who’s been sitting by the futon all this time in silence, and
then—
“I’ll see you around, then.”
Once the redhead takes a step out of the room and the door slides shut behind him, he takes a
deep, shuddering breath. His eyes squeeze shut, eyelids trembling as he calms himself.
Dazai’s hand settles on the back of his neck, rubbing gently the skin of Chuuya’s nape.
“Should we head back?”
Throughout the whole visit, the fox hasn’t spoken that much. A comment here, a small tease
there. One last farewell before he stepped away from the futon.
Whether it’s because he never truly got attached to Ranpo even in the end, or because he did
but couldn’t stand showing it in front of everyone – Chuuya isn’t sure. He can feel it’s not
quite indifference that’s woven into Dazai’s voice, but it’s also not the same kind of honest
sadness as with Ryuu and Gin, however delicate and subtle the wolves’ emotions were.
Is it because he’s an older demon?
Is Chuuya feeling every single thing so vividly because he used to be human and hasn’t been
around long enough to numb his heart to this pain yet—
“Yeah.” Wiping a lone tear away before it can fall, Chuuya turns away to look at the fox.
It’s not up to them to decide who Ranpo chooses to spend his last moments with…
“All this time and you still haven’t made up with him, huh?” Coughing into his sleeve, Ranpo
glances at Yosano through the long strands of dark and grey hair falling on his face, the
corners of his lips curling. “I was wondering if I’d get to see it before I die.”
“...” Yosano stares at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You should lie down.”
“Yes, yes~”
Despite keeping her eyes free of any emotion all this time, it’s Yosano who helps him, pulling
up the comforter over his chest as Ranpo lets out a tired sigh when his head meets the pillow.
She can feel the man’s exhaustion after putting up the cheerful act, first in front of the wolves
and Verlaine, and then for Chuuya and Dazai. All while he should be resting and not using up
his strength for something so pointless—
“It’s not pointless.” Smile lines form around his eyes when Ranpo turns his head to look up at
her. “I prefer it when people smile.”
The woman looks back at him, her expression a perfect mask. “...I didn’t say anything.”
A chuckle. “But you thought about it~”
Another fit of coughing shakes Ranpo’s body, blood splattering on the pillow next to his
head.
“...”
Blood that Yosano can’t stop anymore, not the way she could in the past.
“You shouldn’t strain yourself any more than this.”
Because it’s already too late and it’s her fault for letting that happen. Allowing a human to
live among demons is risky enough, it’s bound to carry consequences one way, or another,
they were and are all aware of this—
But keeping a human around sick demons?
In a place where all sorts of diseases and curses and spiritual illnesses come together?
Keeping a human around the dangers their body would never hope to withstand, for decades?
She should have chased away the young boy that somehow found his way to her door the
moment she saw him, but she didn’t. She should have made him leave when he grew old
enough to look after himself without needing her help.
She should have never let that boy stay around this long, grow this old at her side, and yet—
And yet, Yosano made all of those mistakes.
At a time, it felt harmless to give the young human shelter and food, or listen to his never
ending rambling and questions. Then, it felt easy to let him help around, or fill her days with
conversations Yosano would pretend not to care about.
Having someone to share her breaks with, to be there when she couldn’t save one of her
patients… Yosano thought she could allow herself at least this much selfishness.
And once again, she was wrong.
Her spells stopped working the way they should many years ago, Ranpo’s body growing
numb to the powers not meant for him. Then, she couldn’t do anything to ease her
companion’s pain as the man grew weaker with each passing day.
It’s not a human sickness that has left Death’s mark on him.
It’s too many years of exposure to Yosano’s patients, of curses slowly but steadily seeping
into Ranpo’s body and soul.
It wasn’t by any means a short life that she granted him—
“Just stay down and… be quiet.”
—but it could have been longer if only she never allowed him to stay. Happier, perhaps. Less
secluded from where Ranpo truly belonged.
Ranpo hums quietly, closing his eyes but never letting go of his smile even when Yosano
turns to the side to mix human medicine to ease his pain.
If her spell won’t work, maybe at least this will. Maybe it’s because she tried healing him
with something she shouldn’t have used that it came to this, maybe if she’ll do it their way—
“It’s not your fault, Akiko.”
Yosano’s hands freeze, her throat dry as she swallows down every memory of the past fifty
years – every happy day and every splattered with fresh blood night.
“Stop talking.”
Another hum, weaker. “I don’t mind. It was fun~”
The stone bowl hits the floor loudly when Yosano’s head snaps back. “I said stop talking—”
But then, her eyes widen.
The gold butterfly in her hair stills its wings and silence settles all around her.
“...Ranpo?”
No answer.
No teasing glances, or shallow breathing.
Only a smile frozen in time, his last one.
No goodbye, no last joke that would haunt Yosano for the days to come, just… silent
surrender. A step taken when no one would see it.
Even for Yosano it’s inevitable to lose patients when there is nothing more she could do for
them. It happened before and will happen again.
But losing a friend is different.
More painful, somewhere deep.
Because it’s not only him that Yosano let down, but also herself.
Pressing her lips into a thin line, she straightens the comforter where it wasn’t covering him
properly, then takes the carefully folded material resting at her side and… she places it over
Ranpo’s face.
The same way she did so many times before for the demons she didn’t know, when their
souls had already left their bodies. Her hands are steady in a move they’ve done enough
times to never hesitate again, her breathing calm.
It’s Yosano’s eyes that betray it all. The dimming shine in them, the sorrow that threatens to
let the tears pooling at the corners to spill.
It’s been a long, long time since Yosano last cried after letting a life slip from her fingers,
because crying would never help her. It would never save the ones she had lost.
But if it’s only to herself, quiet in the room that has fallen silent…
Maybe a single tear or two is what she needs to accept it, to let go of the years full of chatter
and jokes and—
“I like it better when you smile, you know~?”
A hand brushes her cheek, fingers coming to wipe the tear away, but… the droplet goes right
through them, as if the fingers weren’t there. There is no touch Yosano feels on her face, but
when she looks to the side, eyes blown wide and surprise too great to be hidden swirling in
their depths—
“Eh, I guess I really can’t touch it, huh?”
It’s Ranpo.
A younger version of him, from when his twenties were in full bloom.
He’s crouching down next to her, one hand on his knee and another in front of his chest as
green eyes look down on it, lost in thought. His colours aren’t as bright, his hair fading at the
ends, but his face is just the same as the woman remembers. The same as she used to look
upon every day.
“Oh, well. I’ll just have to get used to that.”
“You…” Yosano blinks, not sure if she can allow herself to believe it, or not yet. “...stayed?”
Looking up from his hand to meet her eyes, Ranpo’s beaming smile almost startles her.
“Yep~”
“But…”
“I told you, didn’t I?” The ghost sits down on the floor, legs crossed. “It’s fun here. I would
only get bored if I moved on.”
Unbothered, Ranpo looks at… well, at his body, lying next to them.
“I would appreciate a small burial, though. You know, just to—”
“Why?” Yosano can’t stop it when the words escape her throat, blurt out with so much
emotion she’s been holding back until now. “You—there’s nothing holding you back, is
there? You could reincarnate and—”
“Still boring~” Ranpo cuts her off in a whiny voice. “And too bothersome.”
“But you’re—”
“It’s not like there’s any family that I would want to see waiting for me, anyway. They never
cared about me.” The ghost shrugs. “I wish I could see Adam again, that’s true, but… I can’t
possibly leave an old friend all by herself, can I?”
One again, Yosano is left speechless.
A part of her can’t believe Ranpo would do something like that without thinking it through,
but another part finds it amusingly, and annoyingly, obvious. Because, of course, he would.
It’s what Ranpo always does, makes the hardest decision as if they were nothing special at
all.
“You… are an impossible human.”
An echo of a chuckle fills the air. “Don’t you mean ‘a ghost’?”
“Both.” Shaking her head to hide the smile that doesn’t seem to leave her lips, Yosano stands
up and straightens her clothes. “And now you’re going to make me do all the work with the
funeral, too, huh?”
“Much appreciated~”
Yosano answers with a huff. “Again. Impossible.”
Just like that, with a light heart and steps that seem to carry her forward like a butterfly on a
spring breeze, Yosano leaves the room to make the necessary preparations. Ranpo follows
shortly after her, humming a cheerful melody to himself.
Until something catches his eye.
A person – a demon, probably, judging by the fact that he's here and doesn’t seem like a ghost
– fidgeting in his seat in the waiting area, where the two of them pass by. The sight itself
wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, anyone who doesn’t require immediate help and
comes at a more busy time is asked to wait here, but…
Leaving Yosano to herself, Ranpo stops.
Coming closer to the person sitting on the cushion by the wide window, he bends down,
tilting his head when the demon jumps in his seat, startled by being suddenly watched by a
stranger and—
“You’re here for Yosano–sensei?”
Frantically looking to the sides but not seeing anyone else the ghost could speak to, the
demon nods.
“But you don’t look hurt.” Ranpo comments. Now that he’s, well, dead, his eyes can see
more than they could while he was still human, and the person in front of him is shrouded in
a perfectly healthy aura.
“I–I—it’s not for me.” The demon stutters, long bangs falling over his face and hiding it from
the green eyes.
Ranpo hums, more curious now. “Oh?”
Swallowing down nervously, the demon reaches inside the folds of his kimono with one
hand, and what he takes out of his clothes is something even Ranpo did not see coming.
Which, if he’s being honest, makes him wonder—
“K–Karl got sick.”
—does Yosano know how to treat animals, too?
—
“Can you believe that?!” Chuuya huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back
against the wall. “I bet he had that planned and made all of us worry just for fun!”
The corners of Dazai’s lips twitch. “You don’t seem too angry about it, though.”
“I am!”
“Is that why you’re smiling?”
“Yes—” Biting his tongue, Chuuya narrows his eyes at the kitsune, a pointed glare cutting the
space between them. “No. This is obviously a face of rage, stupid fox.”
A playful hum sings from Dazai, his tails stirring as teasing sparkles fill his eyes. “Oh, I’m so
scared~”
“Ugh, shut it. He tricked you too.”
“He did not.” Dazai darts his chin higher, clearly offended by Chuuya’s comment. “I had a
feeling it would come to this.”
The redhead snorts. “A feeling?”
“Exactly.”
“But you didn’t know.”
“There’s no difference, Chibi.”
“Yes, there is.”
“No, there isn’t~”
Looking to the ceiling, Chuuya lets out an annoyed sigh as he tries to force his lips to flatten
down – with little luck, of course. “I swear you act like a child sometimes.” Then, giving up
on fighting his relief, Chuuya pushes away from the floor and heads for the door.
Dazai looks after him, arching a brow in mild amusement. “And where is Chuuya going
now?”
“To the kitchen.” Comes a sharp answer. “I’ll bake those fucking cookies and I’ll eat them in
front of him by myself.”
—around the same time, somewhere else—
Even at the end, Sigma’s hair never lost its colours.

The silky strands flow down in long, light rivers from where Sigma’s head rests on Fyodor’s
lap, white threaded with lilac over the dark sheets of his futon.
Right next to him, Nikolai sits with his leg pressed to Sigma’s side and his tail resting over
the man’s stomach. His ears are low over his head as the bakeneko plays with the ends of
Sigma’s hair, braiding it lazily without uttering a word.
It doesn’t suit him, this kind of silence.
But Sigma understands.
They all do.
On his other side, a bit further from the futon, the four wolves sit with their ears lowered in a
similar way to Nikolai, their faces an image of pensive sadness that used to haunt them in the
past before allowing light to settle among their features again.
Somehow, it makes Sigma feel guilty to be the cause of it.
It took them a long time to smile after they first came here, and now their smiles were stolen
again. By him.
Or maybe by the time that refused to stop for him. But Sigma can’t blame the ways of the
world for being what they are, can he?
So he tries to make it better, to offer them his smile and hope it’ll brighten up the mood after
days of growing darker but… It doesn’t. The only thing it does is make the three wolves avert
their eyes to the floor, their shoulders drooping, while Jouno’s head turns to the side.
“Are you cold?”
Fyodor’s voice is quiet, but it rings loud among the silence of the room. He’s the only one
that speaks up from time to time without Sigma having to ask him to do it. He’s the only one
that somehow still smiles at him, despite feeling the human’s life growing weaker under his
fingertips.
Weakly shaking his head over Fyodor’s lap, Sigma returns the smile with all the strength that
he doesn’t have anymore.
“It’s fine.” He says, looking up into a pair of purple eyes.
It’s winter now but it’s not the snow raging outside the house that sends shivers down
Sigma’s body, it’s the weight of the years he’s lived.
He looks at Nikolai, never losing his smile. “It’s perfect.”
From the corner of his eye, Sigma can see Jouno reaching out to place his hand over
Tetchou’s, when the dark wolf’s hand seems to tremble at his words.
They’ve come a long way since Sigma first met them.

All four of them.
And despite everything that came before and after it – Sigma is glad he got to be there to see
it all, to share those moments with Fyodor, with Nikolai, and with the wolves that have made
their home more lively over the decades.
“Sorry to have you do this every day.”
At his words, Nikolai’s hands stop, his fingers stilling with the long strands between them as
the cat looks up to meet his gaze. There is still light in one of his eyes, but it’s dim now,
looking at Sigma from the shadow of looming sorrows.
“I like it.” The cat’s lips curl involuntarily, but it’s too weak to feel like his usual smile. “I’ll
always like it.”
It’s the lack of a light tone and cheerful notes that betrays what Nikolai is really thinking.
“I’ll braid it tomorrow, too, okay?”
It’s followed by deafening silence.
It’s been a few weeks since Sigma’s health started getting worse, and already a few days
since he couldn’t get up on his own anymore. He wishes he could grant Nikolai’s request
but… With how blurred his vision has become and how heavy the air in his lung feels, Sigma
doesn’t think he’ll see the next day falling over the world.
The wolves can feel it too, or they wouldn’t be staying here all this time.
And Fyodor—
“Don’t worry about it, Sigma.”
The kitsune's hand rests on top of his head, one of Fyodor’s tails covering Sigma’s hand
when the man can’t find his answer to Nikolai’s words.
“Don’t worry about it and just rest for now, okay?”
The human takes a deep breath, then closes his eyes again, imagining this is just one of the
days he’s spending with the two of them lazing around. That this is just another time Fyodor
lets him use his lap as a pillow after a long day.
It’s tempting to let those thoughts fill his mind as exhaustion settles in his bones, to let
himself drift off to sleep but… If he sleeps now, it may be too late.
There’s still one more thing Sigma needs to do, to share with those he loves.
“I… I have a secret.” His eyes flutter open, looking blindly at the ceiling. “Something that
you should know before—”
“It can wait.” Nikolai’s hand cups his cheek, and when Sigma looks at him…
There’s fear in his eyes and features, desperation in the way his weak smile seems to tremble.
“You can tell us another time, right?”
Fyodor’s expression mirrors that of the wolves as he speaks. “Nikolai…”
But the look in Sigma’s unseeing eyes makes all of them fall silent. “But I want to tell you
now, so…” It takes everything in him to move his arm, covering the cat’s hand with his own
and giving it a small squeeze. “Will you listen to me, please?”
“...” Hesitant, Nikolai lets go of his cheek and takes his hand instead. “...okay.”
“I…” A small chuckle escapes the man as he starts again. “I died a few times already, you
know?”
He can hear how everyone’s tails stir, a quiet rustle he loves so much, but Sigma simply
continues.
“In my past lives.”
It makes Nikolai frown, Fyodor to raise his brows and the wolves to look at each other,
confused.
“I… I don’t know how or why, but…”
Just thinking about it brings a relieved and hopeful smile to Sigma’s lips.
“I always remember it when I come back.” He plays with the fur of Fyodor’s tail absent–
mindedly, slowly losing the feeling of it on his skin. “Every time, on my 18th birthday,
everything comes back.”
“You…” There’s disbelief in Nikolai’s voice, and Sigma can’t blame him for it. “But it’s…”
“Impossible, right?” Another weak chuckle rings like a quiet melody. “I know. But it’s true.”
They’re all looking at him with blown eyes, except for Jouno, whose raised brows speak of
the same surprise.
“I think… I think maybe it’s so that I could find it.” Sigma trails off. “The place where I
belong. Maybe something is giving me a chance to do that every time, because…”
Then, his voice lowers into a more distant one, not quite sad but also not what he usually
sounds like, even on the darkest of days. It’s colder, devoid of the warmth the human always
shows those around him.
“I don’t remember a life where my family would love me. None of them were ever cruel, it’s
just that they never… cared. I never felt at home with them, in any of my lives. Even before I
would remember it. I…”
He takes a deep breath, his lips trembling on a memory flashing in his mind—
“Every time, I ended up leaving.”
—a memory of a white tail among the trees of a forest covered in snow.
“It felt like I was searching for something but, each and every time, I died before I could find
it.”
When the smile returns to not only his lips, but also his eyes, Sigma squeezes Nikolai’s hand
and Fyodor’s tail, feeling warm despite the cold shivers rocking his body in violent waves.
“Until this one.”
Even though he was still seventeen when he followed Nikolai into the house of a demon,
even though, at the time, Sigma couldn’t understand that this was where he had always
wanted to be—
Something inside of him knew it.
He was never scared of Nikolai, or of Fyodor, because his soul was calm.
Because his soul found what it had been looking for all this time, all those different, both
short and long, lives.
He felt safe with them.
Finally, for the first time since the very beginning of it all—
Sigma felt… he feels at home.
“What I mean to say is… will you wait for me?”
And he’ll find it… find them again, no matter how many lives it takes him.
He looks to the side at the wolves, then up at Fyodor and Nikolai, seeing them more with his
memories than with his eyes now. “When I remember you in eighteen years…”
His friends.
His family.
His lovers—
“...will you let me come back?”
Even if he’ll look slightly different, even if he will never be able to stay forever with them
and will always have to leave again… Sigma still hopes he’ll find his place here.
No matter how many times he’ll have to lose it.
Nikolai’s lips are parted on a wordless breath, his eyes wide and glittering as water pools in
them, and Fyodor—
“Of course.”
There’s a hint of sorrow in his voice, but his smile is so bright compared to the ones from the
past few days. Relieved, even if pained.
One of his hands comes up to settle on top of the bakenekoe’s head, while the other cups
Sigma’s cheek.
It’s to that relieved smile that Sigma closes his eyes, his own lips melting into a similar one.
He lets out a sigh when he feels Nikolai changing into his cat form and nuzzling into the
space between his body and arm, the small cat’s head resting on his chest.
Letting the quiet humming of the fox lull him to sleep, the human falls silent – content with
the life he was given.
And once the sun rises again, warming up the world covered with a blanket of snow—
Sigma’s body is already cold.
(...but out there, somewhere else in the world, in a small town far away from the grieving
hearts of the demons that have come to love a mortal life—
A child of white and lilac hair is born.)
“Shit!”
Startled from his nap, Dazai’s eye snaps open, his head tilting back over the wooden panels
of the engawa to glance up at the redhead sitting nearby. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just—” Chuuya runs a hand through his hair, his lips twisted in annoyance. “I
spilled ink all over this piece and ruined it.”
That and one of the painting brushes Chuuya had for the longest time suddenly snapped.
Granted, it had to happen at some point with how many years it lasted and how many more of
his brushes the redhead has already replaced over the years. But couldn’t it have waited a bit
longer? At least until he’s done with this last piece?
The kitsune hums, closing his eyes again and turning to lie on his side. “That’s what Chuuya
gets for trying to be productive at night. He should give it a rest and let me sleep on his lap
instead~”
Grumbling something under his breath, Chuuya makes quick work of cleaning up the mess
he made, while two curious foxes gaze up at his hands from the snow covered ground, their
front paws on the wooden floor. They try to sniff at what he’s doing, but the redhead doesn’t
let them, lest they try to lick the spilled ink.
He tries to shoo them away, which draws a small chuckle from Dazai and only makes the
animals more curious.
“Are your children not listening to you, dear husband~?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes at the comment, pushing the painting supplies out of the way and away
from the engawa’s edge.
“They’re listening to me better than to you, most days.” He cleans up the wooden panels with
a cloth, then throws it next to the ruined painting. “And if they’re my children, it means
they’re yours, too.”
A hum. “I could live with that.”
One ear flickering, Dazai looks up again.
“Are you done now~?”
Chuuya shuffles in his seat, straightening his legs and letting them dangle from the engawa as
he leans back on both arms. “I am, but you didn’t earn it.”
Dazai blinks at him, oh, so innocently, but the red flash in his eyes is anything but. “Did I
not?”
Then, shameless as the kitsune is, his figure blurs with blue flames until only a body much
small and much softer is left behind—
Until it’s not Dazai, but a white fox that shuffles closer, its head and upper body resting on
Chuuya’s lap.
“How about now~?” He muses, all nine of his tails swaying happily over and floor.
“Still a no.” But Chuuya’s hand comes to rest on the soft fur anyway, melting the snowflakes
scattered around the small body. “And you’re still annoying.”
A hum. “Chuuya likes me like this, though.”
“I never said that.”
“But you did~”
“Stop it, or I’ll throw you into the snow.”
Not that it would do any damage, Dazai wouldn’t even feel cold if the redhead were to do so
– the only consequence of that would be having the fox pout about it for the next month.
Which is a tempting idea, but…
Maybe not tonight.
Somehow, Chuuya doesn’t really feel like it.
Dazai curls even more on his lap, quiet purrs vibrating from his chest as Chuuya strokes his
fur lazily, looking at the garden shrouded in a silver light of a winter night.
It’s a pity, about the painting, the redhead thinks to himself. Some of the flowers he and
Dazai gathered from all different dimensions bloom even now, fighting with the freezing cold
of winter, unlike their earthy lookalikes that have already withered.
Especially the lilies that catch moonlight with the elegance and grace of snow itself.
Tonight, as a distantly melancholic feeling he doesn’t understand washes over his heart—
Chuuya finds the lilies to be the most beautiful.
Chapter End Notes
That wasn't so bad, right? :')
.............3/5
BTW, the thing with Sigma is just me being a maths nerd (which I have a degree for xD)
and going "woulding it be funny if SIGMA (a summation symbol) would have all of his
lives ADDED in his mind???"
I know to 99% of people it's not funny.
Don't judge me.
Or the more lore-wise explanation: he's the embodiment of Shibusawa's wish for Fyodor
to have someone close to him
Chrysanthemum
Chapter Notes
What a beautiful day it is, she thinks to herself.
How peaceful the world seems.
How…
“Sweetheart?”
The young woman looks up from her task. “Yes, grandma?”
“Can you do me a favour?”
“Of course!”
With one hand resting on the window frame, the elderly lady looks over her shoulder, smiling
innocently at the other. “Can you go to the village and buy me some sweets?”
“...sweets?”
A nod.
Getting up from the floor to walk, the woman’s brows furrow slightly. “Are you sure you
should be eating those? You’re—”
“Don’t fret over that.” Waving her hand, the older one turns around fully, chuckling at the
small pout it earns her. “My age isn’t enough to stop me from enjoying life.”
“...”
“Please?” The elderly lady teases again. “After all the years of looking after—”
“Fine, fine.” A sigh. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
The woman chuckles quietly. “Thank you, dear. But you don’t have to rush it.”
“I’m not rushing anything.” Putting the small bag with coins under the folds of her kimono,
the woman plants a quick kiss on the elderly lady’s cheek. “Do you need anything else?”
The answer is a small shake of her head and a smile.
“I’ll make something to eat when I’m back so don’t bother with it okay?”
It’s only when the figure of a woman walking towards the village gets far enough to become
a blurred image that the elderly lady lets out a sigh and straightens her clothes. She comes up
to the door, stepping outside and taking a deep breath of the early spring air—
“Come on.” She chirps, still looking at the blue sky and the river stretching nearby. “I’ll need
some help here.”
And it’s only a second later that the bushes next to the small hut rustle as Chuuya steps out of
the forest.
The same hair and eyes, the same face.
All those years, Yuan hasn’t seen him change once.
“Are you sure you should be going on walks?” Chuuya asks, weakly amused, as he offers his
hand for support.
Shaking her head with mock disappointment, Yuan accepts the hand, leaning on it with a
relieved smile. “I swear, you and Aya are both plotting to take all my enjoyment of life
away.”
“And I promise we aren’t.” Aya doesn’t even know Chuuya is alive. To her, he’s a friend her
grandmother had when she was younger. “We’re only trying to—”
“Take care of me. Yeah, yeah.” When Yuan slowly leads him away from the hut, Chuuya
doesn’t protest. They walk slowly, at the pace Yuan sets. “You don’t have to rub it in.”
“I’m not trying to.” But his lips do twitch as the redhead suppresses a chuckle.
“Well, you aren’t trying enough, then.”
It’s only when they reach the river that Yuan stops, making Chuuya help her sit down on the
warm grass before the redhead settles beside her.
“Sorry, grandma.” The boy teases, smirking at his friend.
It earns him a shake of Yuan’s head when the woman looks up to the sky, faded–pink hair
falling out from her low bun and onto her shoulders. “Did that thing freeze not only your
physical but also mental age, young man?”
“Technically, I’m still older than you.”
“Oh, no. No, you aren’t.” Poking Chuuya between the ribs, Yuan sends him a look that can’t
be fought with. “Not until you can feel at least a fraction of my back pain, or take away some
of the grey hair.”
At that, Chuuya can’t keep it in anymore. His shoulders shake, and he covers his mouth with
one hand over a small laugh when Yuan pokes his ribs again, stronger this time.
“Okay, okay!” He shields himself from her attack with one hand and puts the other one up in
surrender, the laughter never dying out. “You’re right. I’m wrong. I’m sorry.”
Yuan huffs at him, but then her lips mirror the smile Chuuya wears, the lines around her eyes
deepening.
“I hope you don’t let your husband win this easily.”
Another small laugh that the redhead can’t suppress rings through the air. “Don’t worry, I
don’t.” He sends her a smirk, just like in the old days. “Dazai needs to earn his victories.”
How many years have passed since the time that name became familiar to Yuan?
How many years has it been since she became fond of the sound of it on Chuuya’s lips?
“Good.” She says, nodding to herself. “He deserves that.”
How many years has it been since Yuan stopped being afraid to talk about the kitsune? Since
she became friends with him, with all of them? With Ryuu and Gin and—
“He does.” Chuuya hums, gesturing with his head behind them. “They’re all here, too.”
With slightly raised brows, Yuan slowly turns around, squinting at the distant forest line
and… they’re blurred, her vision never coming into focus anymore, but she thinks she can
make out three figures standing among the green leaves.
“Ah.” With a smile, she waves her hand at the demons standing in the shadows of the trees.
“How nice of them.”
How nice of them to—
“I feel somewhat special, you know? To think that they would say goodbye to an old,
insignificant mortal like me.”
—come see her for the last time.
“Yuan—”
As she turns back to face the river once more, Yuan shakes her head. “I know what you want
to say, Chuuya.”
He said it many times over the past few decades. Sometimes, Yuan would accept the offer.
Other times, she didn’t. And today, after having seen it all…
“But don’t.”
“...” Chuuya lets out a sigh, heavy with emotions that hide in his eyes but not on his face. “It
was worth a try.”
The disappointed tone makes the woman chuckle weakly. “You never give up, do you?”
“How could I?”
Chuuya’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and the light that always shines from deep
within blue eyes seems to dim as sadness paints it in its colours. In the blue not of the
faraway skies, or the wide oceans – but in the blue of the rain falling down on an autumn
night.
“You’re the last one I have.” He whispers.
The last one from his old life, from when he was still human.
His first family, first friend.
His dad, Shirase, uncle Adam, the Flags… they’re all gone, they all left to where Chuuya
can’t follow. It’s only her and uncle Paul that still remain, but Verlaine always has to move
around and Yuan—
Yuan has been one of the closest people to Chuuya his entire life. Even if they spent fourteen
years apart, the rest of it – the years of his childhood and early adulthood, the decades after
their reunion… She’s a friend that Chuuya cherishes the most.
The one that has seen everything there is to see about him, and accepted it.
And the one he can’t keep any longer.
“I know, Chuuya. I know.” She covers his hand with her own, smiling into the distance as
warm sunlight washes over the both of them. “But that’s also exactly why I can’t accept your
help anymore.”
He knows it’s futile to ask but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t try. “I mean, you can…”
Yuan, however, also wouldn’t be herself if she accepted it – so, he doesn’t.
Not this time.
Today, Yosano won’t be coming to help her relieve the pain, or give her a spell that will ease
the tiredness. Many times did the yōkai doctor visit her at Chuuya’s request, and many times
did Yuan welcome her with gratitude.
But…
“There were days at the beginning when I wished it would end sooner, you know?” Yuan
says instead, her voice distant as it tells the stories of the past. “And how funny is it now, that
I’m this old and still around, huh?”
The oldest their village has ever seen.
Much older than Adam when he passed away, much older than even Ino–san’s flowery smile
when it withered.
A weak smile tugs at Chuuya lips, his hand sliding from Yuan’s shoulder to her hand, giving
it a small squeeze. “Old but as pretty as ever.”
A huff. “Stop mocking me, you baby–face.” But she still takes his hand, squeezing it back.
“Never.” Chuuya teases as he bumps their shoulder, but his voice comes out with a faint
tremble. With the emotions that awaken in him once more, knowing how fleeting this
moment is, how quickly it’ll be gone.
And no matter the years of practice he has had, or how bad Yuan’s hearing has gotten – she
can still hear it. She can still feel every small tremble of his fingers over her skin. There isn’t
much she can do for him, not anymore, but she can at least continue to hold his hand for as
long as she can and… stay close until the end.
The same way she did with Shirase a lifetime ago, in a place much colder than this one.
Unlike Chuuya’s, her voice doesn’t tremble.
Her breathing doesn’t shudder.
Her heart doesn’t break because… to her, this moment is a peaceful one.
“I outlived my only love.” Yuan says, seeing all the memories flow by in the river before her.
“I outlived my only son.”
She knows the pain of losing a loved one, she knows how hard it is to live through the loss,
but… somehow, she always picked herself up from it.
Sometimes, she had to do it alone.
Sometimes, it was with the others’ help.
“I have a beautiful granddaughter and I even got to see my great– grandchildren’ faces.”
With a huffed out sigh, Yuan shifts in her seat, leaning her head on Chuuya’s shoulder. “I got
to meet demons and spirits, and I got to see it all with you, and I—”
She got to live a life like no one else, full of regrets and love and mistakes and forgiveness.
“In the end, I’m glad I could live this long, Chuuya.”
She truly is, even if it wasn’t always easy.
“But you have your Dazai and I… I still miss Shirase every day.”
Chuuya bites his lips, looking to the sky to stop his tears from falling. “I know.” And, of
course, it doesn’t work. The first one falls all too easily, and the next ones follow in a burning
trail.
“I don’t even remember his face anymore, only that I love it.”
And Chuuya… isn’t sure if he does, or doesn’t. He remembers feeling at ease when Shirase
would smile, he remembers grey eyes and silver hair, but… The details, he can’t recall any of
them. There’s no face appearing when he closes his eyes, not anymore.
“You’ll see him again.” Chuuya whispers, pressing his cheek to the top of Yuan’s head.
“You… say hi to him for me, will you?”
If she tries to nod, Chuuya doesn’t feel it.
“I will.”
But he can hear the peaceful smile in her voice, and it flows right into his heart as silence
stretches from one second to another. Until…
“You don’t have to feel guilty about it, Chuuya.” Yuan whispers lightly. “About being able to
stay longer than us.”
The redhead’s lips tremble, but his smile persists as more tears stream down his cheeks.
“Granting me some more of your grandma wisdom even now?”
A hum, quieter than before. “You bet.”
Then, as if it wasn’t already hard enough for Chuuya to breathe around the sorrow tightening
his throat, Yuan speaks again and it’s… It’s cruel, yet liberating. To Chuuya it’s a sad melody,
her voice.
But sometimes, the sad songs are the most beautiful ones.
Sometimes, those are the ones that remain longer than anything else, carried by the time itself
so that even when the stories they speak of meet their end – there will always be someone to
listen to their tales.
“It’s okay to be happy, Chuuya.” Yuan says. “It’s okay if you forget about us one day—”
Her eyes flutter close, tired after a lifetime of watching the world around her change and
become something more… welcoming.
“—because we’ll make sure to remember you.”
.
.
“We will.”
When Yuan’s eyes open again, she sees the crystal clear river and the green grass before her.
She feels the arm under her head and the hand holding her own, but… It’s different.
Brighter.
Warmer.
More vivid.
The hair that falls over her face is pink, the same shade that she lost, oh, so many years ago.
Her back doesn’t hurt, her body feels lighter and—
As Yuan pulls away, looking up at the boy sitting next to her… it’s not the red hair that she
sees. Not the blue eyes.
Not her best friend of many decades.
“...Shirase?”
But her love.
The same hair and eyes as the day she lost him, but without the blood tainting his skin and
clothes. The same smile that she once knew and now remembers all over again, as if no time
at all has passed in the decades she would walk her paths without his hand holding her.
“Hi there, Yu—AN!”
They both fall to the ground when Yuan throws herself at him, arms closing around his
shoulders and neck as her laughter mixes with tearful sobs. It doesn’t take long for Shirase’s
hands to return the hug, wrapping around her waist and holding tightly as the girl cries out
her life to him.
“Y–you’re here!”
It earns her a weak huff, fondness painting every note. “I am.”
“I—I don’t—I’ve missed you so much—”
“I know.” He squeezes her tighter. “Me too.”

“I—I’m sorry about—about everything—”
Shirase shakes his head, his shoulders trembling. “I’m sorry for leaving you.”
“I love you—” Yuan cries out, desperately letting out what she was too late to say before. “I
love you. I’ve always loved you—”
Feeling like his chest is about to explode, Shirase chuckles wetly. “I love you too, Yuan.”
“Chuuya—he—” It’s hard to hold onto just one thought when a storm that has been waiting
to break free for decades finally crashes down on her heart and mind. “He says hi and—”
“I know, love.” Chuckles, his own voice breaking down under all the different emotions. “I
heard.”
Pulling away barely enough to look at him, Yuan’s wide, glossy eyes and parted lips make
Shirase’s smile brighter than he’s felt himself smile in a long, long time.
“Y–you did?”
“Yeah. I’ve heard and seen it all. From here.” As a waterfall of pink hair falls around their
small world, Shirase brings his hands to cup Yuan’s face, never looking away from the one
he’s been waiting for. “You were so brave, Yuan, and you were a perfect mother.”
Shirase has seen it, and Akira has lived it – then, he told Shirase everything about it all over
as they both sat here, watching their loved one live another day.
Yuan chokes out a small laugh, tears continuing to freely fall from her eyes onto Shirase’s
face, but neither of them minds it.
“And you would have been the most beautiful bride.”
Shirase is fighting back his own tears, but he finally feels free from the weight of his past life
and regrets.
They both do.
“You will be.” He brings their foreheads together. “Here. I’ll make you into one right here.”
In a world that has been waiting for this for over 70 years. In a world where what couldn’t be
can happen—
“And in every other life.”
—because, as many like to say: better late than never, right?
“I swear.”
.
.
“—because we’ll make sure to remember you.”
Chuuya’s heart cries out at the sound of these words, his eyes squeezing shut as he lets out a
shuddering breath.
He can’t hear it anymore, the sound of Yuan’s beating heart.
Because it’s not there to be heard anymore.
“I won’t forget about you.” He whispers into the wind. “I’ll never forget you. Neither of
you.”
Even if time erases their faces, their memory will always remain.
In Chuuya’s mind, in his heart.
In the days that he’ll look back on no matter how many decades or centuries may come to
pass without them. For as long as Chuuya is alive, he’ll carry the time they all shared
together with him into the future – while his friends will carry it into another world and…
Into another lives.
Despite how his body shakes, Chuuya carefully moves to pull Yuan into his arms, picking her
lifeless body off from the ground as he stands up.She’s so light, so still and quiet and…
“L–Let’s get you home, okay?”
(And the reflection that flashes in the river’s waters for a fraction of a second when sunlight
hits the calm waves, is that of the past. Of two boys, one with red and one with silver hair,
and of a girl standing between them.
They’re all smiling at Chuuya from the time that he can’t see.
From the reflection that disappears before the redhead can catch it, but… it’s okay.)
Chuuya lays Yuan down on her bed in the hut that has always been both of their homes,
kissing her forehead for the last time before disappearing into the forest. Aya doesn’t know
him. She doesn’t know about the world beyond the human one and… It’s for the better if it
stays that way.
Chuuya has already taken from her more than he had any right to, taking away Yuan’s last
moments from the granddaughter that loves her so much and knowing he’ll never have a
chance to apologise for it.
As he walks among the trees, unhurried, Chuuya’s vision is blurred, his breathing heavy, and
when Dazai’s arms wrap around him and the boy can press his face to the kitsune's chest,
hidden from the world—
He lets out a broken sob.
Then another.
And another.
Until his sobs turn into screams. Until there is nothing more but pain in the way he clutches
at Dazai’s clothes. Until he realises that the days he could still hold onto being human, onto
feeling human if nothing else—
They’re gone.
Just like uncle Adam.
Just like Yuan and Shirase.
Just like all the faces Chuuya will never see again.
“I—I can’t—” The redhead chokes out, his body trembling all over. “I—I can’t do this—”
Dazai’s arms tighten around him. “I’m sorry.”
“I—it’s too much—”
Too much to bear, too much to accept, too much to try and live with—
“I’m sorry.” Dazai whispers again, knowing there is nothing more he could possibly say to
make this any easier.
“Why—why am I still here and they are not?!”
“...”
“Why can’t I—why can’t I just—”

“Chuuya…”
“Why can’t I go with them?!” Chuuya half–chokes, half–screams.
His hand ball into fists in Dazai’s clothes, tugging at the material without any real force put
into it as his tears fall to the ground and his throat feels sore, his heart aching with every
breath he takes.
It’s unfair, Chuuya thinks to himself, and yet, it’s by his own hands that such unfairness falls
upon him.
It’s cruel – all by his own choice.
A part of him knows asking Dazai all of this isn’t any more fair than having to watch the
people Chuuya loves die in front of his eyes, that it isn’t right to make his husband feel guilty
over what isn’t his fault. But that part of him is weak, broken, its voice lost among the
turmoil of grief and tainted with sorrow.
“Why can’t I… see them?” The redhead cries out, voice rasped. “Why couldn’t they stay?
Why can’t they… come back?”
Dazai takes a deep breath. “This isn’t how the world wills it.”
“Why—?!”
“Because, little human…” A hand strokes the back of Chuuya’s head. “Without goodbyes
there would be no first greetings. There would be no moving forward.”
“I don’t WANT to move forward! I—I want my family, my FRIENDS—”
“I know you do.”
“I WANT THEM BACK!”
“I know, Chuuya.” Dazai shushes, closing his eye as his lips brush Chuuya’s hair. “But it was
their time to go.”
All things must come to an end, after all.
Be it in a year, or millennia from now — that’s how it’s supposed to be.
“Then let me go with them—!”
“I can’t.” Dazai murmurs, feeling the tremors shaking Chuuya’s heart even through the
weakened bond that remains quiet on most days, his own soul resonating with his husband’s
grief and pain.
“ Please—”
“I can’t.” The kitsune repeats. “It isn’t your time, little human.”
Nor is it Dazai’s.
“It’s supposed to be!”
“I know.”
It’s true, but the truth isn’t always just one – it doesn’t always follow the same paths as time
does.
“But it isn’t.”
A child’s cry rips through the silent air.
Dark smoke covers the blue sky—
Just like a lifetime ago, when Chuuya was hiding among the trees while watching one of his
friends being buried. And now, it’s another such day, only this time, he stands with the
grieving people of the village.
With the family and friends that bid their last farewell to Yuan.
With Aya and her child in her arms, its cries truer than any words could ever be.
No one here knows who Chuuya is, no one will ever know. It’s the last time he stands on this
ground, with the people whose features must be similar to the people of the village Chuuya
grew up with.
There are people of all ages and status here: Yuan’s friends and family, her regular clients and
merchants, everyone who has ever worked for her and with her.
There’s Ryuu and Gin, out of respect.
And there’s also Dazai, out of… concern.
Fondness, perhaps.
Maybe it’s out of obligation, Chuuya doesn’t know, nor does he ask. He doesn’t have the
strength, the will to ask the questions that won’t change anything.
He’s tired.
So, so, so tired of…
It’s only after the funeral, once most of them have already gone, that the woman Chuuya
knows but who doesn’t know him turns her head to him, a trembling smile and glossy eyes
hiding the same gentleness Yuan had in her.
“Were you one of grandma’s mentees?”
Chuuya looks at her, at the woman he’s seen grow up from a baby into an adult, and he can’t
help but notice how, despite not having Yuan’s blood in her veins, she reminds him of her.
How she carries with herself everything Yuan was: kindness and strength.
“No.” The redhead says, a lightless smile on his lips.
She doesn’t need to believe him.
She doesn’t need to understand—
“I’m a friend.”
“Will it ever stop?” Chuuya whispers one night, while his eyes trail over the stars above,
wondering how many stories like his own they have seen.
In the past it was Dazai, who would spend his days on the roof of their hours, and now it’s
Chuuya who hasn’t gone down in almost two days.
“Will it ever stop hurting?” He asks no one.
It’s not a question for the part of himself that’s supposed to be wiser now.
It’s not a question for Dazai, who remains by his side in silence.
It’s only one of many thoughts that slip from his lips, nothing in Chuuya strong enough to
hold them back anymore.
“I’m tired.”
…of being alive.
After fighting for it so desperately, who knew life would feel this… exhausting?
Yet, he doesn’t care to move, nor does he ask Dazai to carry him, not even when dark clouds
steal the stars from Chuuya’s eyes and cold rain starts pouring down on the two of them. For
as long as Chuuya’s grief keeps the boy’s heart locked away from everyone else, Dazai is
there with him. Waiting.
Just like he’ll always be, no matter how many times those days come back.
It’ll get better.

It’ll get worse.
It will hurt all the same no matter how much time passes, but—
Through it all, Dazai will never leave Chuuya to face his sorrows alone and Chuuya will
never abandon those he has left.
He’ll never abandon himself, no matter how much it hurts.
And sometimes, only in the moments when his consciousness balances on the edge of reality
and dream and when he can’t tell the truth from the deepest wishes – it’s then, that he’ll think
maybe he can sense someone watching over him. Someone who isn’t here.
Maybe the wind will carry laughter that will lull Chuuya to sleep.
Not one but many.
Maybe the shadows of the night will bring with themselves the silhouettes of his hopes.
Not to be noticed but to be felt.
Until the day Chuuya stops looking behind him and… lets go.
…just like the last flower finally withers away.
Chapter End Notes
I AM HURTING HERE
.......4/5
The Last Blossom
Chapter Notes
A long time ago, a little girl took a sad stranger’s hand on this hill. She was raised to never
leave a person in need alone, to always look after those who may need it – and so, she did
just that. But neither that girl, nor the town she grew up in, has even seen that sad boy again,
because he was not one of them.
Their paths tangled for a brief moment in time and parted just as quickly.
But they were both fine with it.
It’s many, many years later that two people sit under the same tree that has witnessed that one
encounter, on the same hill that the girl’s little feet would skip on, watching the sunset of an
early spring.
A man and a woman.
A blond lighter than before and long, faded dark locks blowing in the gentle breeze. Both
with smiles that have seen it all and… with a white cat resting on the grass between them,
napping in the last rays of the day.
“Shall we go back?” The man asks. “Before it gets too dark.”
The woman smiles to herself, quirking a brow at him. “Where did your love for adventures
go, sunshine?”
“Back to the days when my legs and back would still work as they should.” The man
chuckles, slowly standing up from the ground with a quiet groan. He offers his wife his hand,
and the woman takes it with a small, teasing smile.
“Someone seems tired after his last trip.”
“Well…” He leans on the tree to keep his balance as he helps her stand up. “The big city is an
amazing place but also an exhausting one.” When the woman stands next to him, he covers
her hand with his own as his eyes light up. “I much prefer it here, at home.”
A sigh. “Ever so cheerful, even at your age.”
“Of course. That way of living has yet to fail me.”
Their hands never let go of each other as the two go down the hill, helping one another from
falling down. They don’t skip the steps as they once did, back when they were both only
children, and they don’t run. Their steps are careful, each taking a toll on the old bones.
“Snow!” The woman calls over her shoulder. “Come on, we’re going back!”
The cat’s eyes open at the sound of the woman’s voice. It arches its back on a long stretch,
yawning as it follows the couple to the small town at the bottom of the hill.
Down the path the cat has followed over and over again for many years.
The path it follows for the last time because—
“Even now, she looks just like her.” Kouyou says quietly, letting the words be carried by the
wind. “Like my daughter.”
—because the couple will never come back here.
Because after many years of coming uphill to gaze upon the beauty of their home, it was the
last sunset they were allowed to witness.
There’s silence, only the rustling of leaves and flowers over Kouyou’s heads filling the air,
until an equally quiet answer comes from behind the spirit. Not shy, not hesitant, only…
regretful.
“...I wouldn’t know.” Yosano says. “I’ve never seen her.”
Kouyou can’t help the small smile that blooms on her lips as she looks at the couple slowly
disappearing among the distant houses. “Well, she did die long before we met.”
It’s only once there is no mop of light hair to look after anymore, and when the long, dark
strands tied with white ribbons blowing in the air have gone somewhere the spirit can’t see –
it’s only then that Kouyou turns around.
She offers Yosano an expression that’s warm with fondness and with love as the last rays of
the day hit her figure. It covers the spirit with an aura of gold, of flame that burns brighter
than any other, but that which is also gentle. Warm to those in need but never hurting.
“But she comes back every now and then.” The spirit says. “And every reincarnation looks
exactly like her. From the day she’s born, to the day she dies again.”
Yosano looks briefly over Kouyou’s shoulder. “...like that one?”
Humming lightly, Kouyou offers the other woman a small nod as she steps closer. “Indeed.”
Another step and the distance between them grows smaller, but Yosano doesn’t move away,
she doesn’t move an inch—
“Or like little Kyouka before her.”
It’s only when they are face to face, Kouyou’s body casting a shadow over Yosano’s face, that
everything else seems to disappear. To quiet down.
No rustling of the petals, only the sounds of their heartbeats.

No last rays of the sun, only the shine enclosed in Kouyou’s eyes and the glittering of the
silver patterns around her eyes—
That, and the shadow that seems to always hug her figure tightly, making the light shine that
much brighter. Brighter than any living being should be.
“...and your human lover?” Yosano whispers.
“He used to, but not anymore.” The spirit answers, the lightness of her tone never tainted
with the burden she carries. “One of his reincarnations left the town a long time ago, and then
he never came back.”
In this moment, as she stands before her, Yosano can’t help but wonder – why has she never
asked any of this before? During all the years the two spirits would spend together, be it close
with their bodies or with their hearts alone – what was it that has always stood in her way,
stealing the questions away from Yosano’s throat before they could be spoken?
Kouyou’s human years are but a heartbeat in her long life and Yosano has known her for
centuries now. She knows the habits Kouyou follows without thinking, she sees every subtle
change in her expressions, and yet—
That daughter Kouyou speaks of, Yosano has never asked about her.
That human lover, Yosano has never wanted to know what became of him.
Maybe it’s precisely because she has known Kouyou longer than them, or maybe it’s because
she knows this Kouyou – the ever powerful and beautiful flower that carries the mark of
Death – and not the one that came before her.
The human, beautiful but sickly.
The mortal, stubborn and courageous but… different.
Different from who Yosano has grown to know and love.
Deep down, Yosano knows all the answers. She didn’t ask because she wanted to believe she
could unravel the many layers of who Kouyou is on her own. She didn’t ask because she
wanted to believe it wouldn’t have made a difference, that as long as she can learn about the
person before her, the past doesn’t matter.
Yosano has seen it before, the acceptance and melancholy hidden among the flowers that
bloom under Kouyou’s touch. She has seen her smiles and heard her laughs.
Back then, a long time ago, she also saw the pain veiled under the unwavering resolve.
But it’s been gone for many decades and centuries now, old memories replaced by new ones.
One family laid down to rest, and a new one found in eternity.
Old home, but new friends.

New lover—
She didn’t ask because she believed she had time.
And now, she doesn’t anymore.
Kouyou brushes the back of her fingers on Yosano’s cheek, then delicately tucks a loose
strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“Thank you for always being here when they pass away.”
Her gaze follows her fingertips as they slide behind Yosano’s ear and down her jaw. As
Kouyou’s index finger gently presses under Yosano’s chin, tiling her head with the smallest
effort, the spirit’s smile never fading.
“It meant a lot to me.”
It’s whispered into their own world, the words only Yosano can hear.
It’s like a spell being cast over her, making it impossible to move away, to even want to move
away. Even if it’s not perfect, even if what they have can never be perfect because of who
they are and which principles they follow—
Why would Yosano ever want to let go?
She comes here every time out of her own free will, to be here for Kouyou when the same
story repeats itself over and over again. To be the support she knows Kouyou needs it, and
yet—
And yet, it’s Yosano’s voice that rings pained.
It’s Yosano’s eyes that can’t keep the mask from slipping off.
“She never had children, did she?”
Even if she already knows the answer to that, a part of her wishes she’s wrong – a part wishes
to hear the same ending to the same story that he’s heard many times in the past, before the
same days went on to repeat themselves.
But the smile she gets as her answer feels cruel in its ease, in its calmness and ever lasting
warmth and love—
“No.” Kouyou’s voice is light, nothing like the weight that crushes Yosano’s chest at the
sound of its melody. “She’s the last one.”
It grows darker around them when the sun finally hides behind the horizon, the sky losing its
blue as stars shine up among the black cover of the night.
It’s spring and, yet, Yosano feels cold.

A chill she has never felt before freezing her blood, her lips trembling on a breath she can’t
seem to take.
“Kou—”
“Don’t cry over me, dear Butterfly Queen.”
Without ever looking away from the wide eyes staring up at her, Kouyou moves her hand to
wipe the tears from Yosano’s cheeks.
“I’m not worth your tears.”
But she is the only one that can cause them to fall this easily, this freely.
All the death Yosano has witnessed and lived through can’t compare to this. Every lesson she
has taught herself blurs in her memory, leaving naked vulnerability when there should be
acceptance and indifference.
“You are—” Yosano’s fingers wrap around Kouyou’s wrist, keeping her hand close, too
afraid to let go. “You are worth it. You’re worth it all—”
A white petal coming into her view cuts Yosano’s words off, her eyes widening. There’s
another one following it, and another, and many more carried by the wind until—
A small figure forms, running around the empty hill.
A cat of white petals.
A guardian coming home after its duty has come to an end, and with it…
“I hope I was worth your smiles, then.” Kouyou whispers, leaning closer. “Because I loved
all of them dearly.”
Yosano’s other hand comes up to clutch at the spirit’s clothes, her legs like cotton and her
breathing heavy.
“I’ll always do.”
And when their lips meet, it’s like living it all over again.
Like the first time Yosano tasted Kouyou’s lips, even if it was merely two smiles pressed to
each other under the summer rain. Like the soft laugher fanning over her skin when their lips
brushed. Like the longing neither of them truly let go of, no matter how much time had
passed.
Kouyou’s lips are soft on her own, warm enough to melt the last restraints as Yosano’s eyes
flutter close and she leans into the kiss.
It’s as sweet as their first one.

As slow as their most honest one.
…and as painful as the words stuck in Yosano’s throat.
When Kouyou leans back, Yosano’s fingers tighten in her clothes and around her wrist,
desperate to hold on to the spirit, but when her eyes open—
“So continue smiling for me, Akiko.”
Kouyou’s face and body is covered with a labyrinth of golden lines, of cracks that shine in
the darkness of a lonely night.
“Even if I won’t be there to see it.”
Yosano’s heart hammers in her chest. She shakes her head desperately, her hair falling down
her face. “N–no—”
But when her fingers tighten even more, Kouyou’s wrist… disappears.
It breaks into golden petals blown away by the wind into the sky, and as the first such petal
falls from the spirit’s face—
“No, Kouyou, wait—!”
—the rest follows right after.
Kouyou’s body breaks into thousands of golden petals that light up the dark night with their
fading light. Her smile is the last thing that Yosano sees before…
“I’m sorry, my beautiful butterfly.”
Before it’s only the silky material that’s left behind in her hands, not the person who once
wore it. Before a part of her hollows out, just like all the flowers from the sakura trees around
her fall to the ground at once.
Before it’s too late.
For anything.
Yosano’s eyes are wide as she stares into the distance, tears freely streaming down her face
with no one to brush them away anymore, washing away a ghost of a touch left behind by the
most gentle of hands.
The flowers withered.
The spirits that lived inside of them followed their master.
Right now, on the silent hill that was home to the gold flower, Yosano stands alone.
With Kouyou’s kimono in her hands, her scent and taste left behind on her lips and a golden
ornament that has fallen to the ground. With the memories of love, but without its touch.
A single breath breaks the silence but it’s the sob following it that rips it apart.
A cry and a scream, both echoing into the world in a sorrowful melody.
Falling to her knees, Yosano presses Kouyou’s kimono to her chest, the fingers of her free
hand digging into the ground as her hand tightens around the golden ornament. She doesn’t
care to move, doesn’t care to keep her voice in, or her tears from falling.
All the death she’s seen before feels insignificant.
All the pain she has ever felt now feels like nothing compared to this.
She stays here until the Moon climbs high into the sky, shining down on the lone figure and
her broken heart. But she can’t stay forever, no matter how much she wishes to.
And the place she goes to first…
In all those years, in the face of every death they have witnessed together, it has always been
the same. It has always been Chuuya, who would feel the hollowness left behind by those
close to him.
It isn’t any different now. The redhead wasn’t ready for this, he isn’t ready to hear what
Yosano will soon tell them. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to happen.
They all knew the possibility but not one of them has ever dared to face it.
His eyes are blown and he can feel his body beginning to tremble but…
Under the veil of the night, with Yosano’s dark silhouette standing in their garden – for the
first time in forever, Chuuya sees a crack in Dazai’s mask.
Even if only for a brief moment, it’s there.
Disbelief. Shock.
Grief.
It doesn’t come as vividly as Chuuya’s tears or Yosano’s pained expression and reddened
cheeks. It doesn’t come as loud as the redhead’s choked cries, or the Akutagawa siblings’
erratic breaths when they learn of what has happened.
Dazai’s sorrow – felt deep within where he never knew anything existed anymore – it’s quiet.
It’s the tails that fall lower over the ground.
The ears that freeze over the dark hair.
The words that don’t come out as one red eye stares at the crumbled material in Yosano’s
hand and the faint, fading scent of sakura flowers flows into his lungs.
It took Chuuya one afternoon to grow fond of Kouyou and less than two years to consider her
his family. But for Dazai…
It took them both years to accept each other, decades to get to know one another. Centuries to
become something they never quite put a name on, too proud to acknowledge the truth after
the charade has gone on for this long.
It only takes one second for Dazai to understand how it feels to lose a life–long friend.
A companion that has always been there, but isn’t anymore.
Someone who helped them more than the kitsune could ever repay and…
Someone who left without a goodbye.
He can hear the wails from the other side of the sliding door, but he doesn’t move. Instead,
Ranpo slides down the wooden panels and sits on the floor, the ghost’s back seemingly
leaning on the door.
Even with his wit, there is nothing he can do to help.
There are no tears he can offer, for ghosts do not shed the tears that come with being alive.
But he can stay.
Just like he promised.
Tonight, no words are uttered.
Not by Ryuu.
Not by Gin.
Not by Chuuya, who only leans his back on the kitsune’s chest and lets his gaze fall to the
hair ornament resting on his palm, the same one he wore at his wedding – with the flower
Kouyou gifted him all those years ago.
Not by Dazai, who only looks out the window in silence to the tree that stands high above
their garden. His arms linger around Chuuya’s middle without much thought, or any strength
put into it, as the kitsune lets his mind wander.
Is this how Chuuya felt when his uncle passed away?
Is that what losing the friend with pink hair was like to him?
Does it always feel like this, when someone who you have never thought to lose… leaves?
It must be a demon’s arrogance, the nature of who he is engraved into Dazai’s bones and
mixed into his blood – but never once has he ever considered what it would feel like to
outlive Kouyou. They’ve known each other for far too long and they’ve lived through far too
much together.
No life can last forever, he knows that.
Much like himself, Kouyou has always stepped through every day with Death over her
shoulders. He knows all of that better than anyone but—
It doesn’t make anything any easier.
Because, a long life that he may have led until this day, Dazai has never lost anyone he would
consider dear to him. He came close to it with Chuuya, closer than any of them would have
liked to, but they won and they’re both here now.
Facing Shibusawa with Kouyou and Hirotsu, Dazai was ready for it to be his last battle, their
last battle. It would have been frustrating to lose but it had always been a possibility.
Then, they would have all gone together.
Now…
The picture is beautiful, a happy one – but there’s a piece of it missing.
And Dazai doesn’t know how to fill it anymore.
“Are you okay?” Sometime during the days that follow, it’s Chuuya who asks the question he
never thought he’d find himself asking, not like this.
Those are the first words any of them speaks after that, and they come with a sense of guilt
tingling on Chuuya’s lips and heart.
Long ago, Dazai asked him the same thing and it made Chuuya want to scream, to push the
fox away and to rip everything into pieces until his anger would dilute the pain, making it
more bearable. He wasn’t fine, yet Dazai still asked him that, knowing the answer he would
get.
But this time, it’s Chuuya who does it.
Not as a means of revenge, not driven by any ill–intent – he asks, because he can’t tell
anymore.
He thought he had seen a crack in Dazai’s many masks, he thought he had heard the sorrow
in the kitsune's silence for the past few days. But at the same time, Dazai acts so much like…
himself.
His composed self.
In a sense, Chuuya thinks it’s easier for himself to process what has happened than it is for
Dazai. Kouyou was a good friend, she was family, but she wasn’t the first the redhead had to
part with – for Dazai, she was.
What the kitsune is going through, Chuuya has experienced over and over again.
It’s never any less painful than it was before but…treating wounds becomes less confusing
once you’ve grown used to the sting, and Chuuya’s heart carries many scars. Many times had
the redhead feel himself breaking down, and just as many times had he put the pieces back
together.
“I don’t know.” Dazai tells him after considering it for a long second, his gaze looking
somewhere into the distance, far beyond what can be seen by those who haven’t lived his
past.
“Do you want to talk?”
Chuuya reaches out with his hand, cupping Dazai’s cheek and guiding the fox to look at him.
“You miss her.” It’s not a question, only a statement, and so, Dazai doesn’t answer.
He looks into the clear, blue orbs staring up at him with pain and concern – pity, even. He
isn’t sure what face to make, so he wears the same one he has worn almost his entire life. Or
so he thinks.
But Chuuya has lived alongside him long enough to see past it.
It’s true that there’s still so much he needs to learn but if there is one thing Chuuya knows,
it’s what grief looks like. He may not be able to tell whether it’s the accepting kind, or the
kind that rips one’s heart apart, but he knows it’s there. He has seen it.
And it is also true that he can’t tell whether it’s the same kind of sadness that the redhead
carries in himself that paints itself over Dazai’s face, or not, but…
Chuuya feels like the kitsune doesn’t know the answer to that, either.
“Is that what I look like?” Dazai asks in a genuine and quiet voice.
Chuuya nods.
“...I see.”
“I miss her, too.”
It’s a somewhat strange feeling to be the one to comfort his husband, not to be receiving
comfort from him. For so many decades it has always been the other way around, and now
Chuuya isn’t sure what to say, or do, anymore.
He knows what works for him but Dazai isn’t him.
“You look tired,” Dazai whispers.
Smiling weakly, Chuuya guides the kitsune’s head down until their foreheads are touching.
“So do you.”
“I’ll be fine, little human.”
“I know you will.” His thumb brushes over Dazai’s cheek as Chuuya closes his eyes, giving
the kitsune the comfort of not being seen. “But you don’t have to be now.”
Dazai doesn’t say anything for a long moment. But then…
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, his hands now cupping Chuuya’s cheeks the same way the redhead
is holding onto him.
“For what?” Chuuya asks without opening his eyes.
“For not understanding.”
For not understanding what Chuuya was going through back when it mattered most.
For only getting to understand it now, decades too late.
The redhead lets out a small snort. “It’s fine.”
Not once has Chuuya truly blamed Dazai for it, not when his mind was clear enough to
distinguish pain from blind anger. In a way, he may have been envious of the fox, of not
knowing what this kind of sorrow feels like, how suffocating and numbing it can be – but
envy isn’t the same as blame.
And, whenever his mind would clear, Chuuya would think to himself that maybe it’s better
that way. That, even if he has to go through it alone, he’s glad his husband doesn’t have to
know the pain of losing someone dear.
At the end of the day, Chuuya would always want to spare his loved ones the sorrows.
Now that he can’t anymore… it doesn’t even feel good to be understood.

There’s only worry.
And guilt.
“Do you need me to say something?” The fox whispers after a while, uncertain.
When Chuuya opens his eyes, the dark orb staring down at him feels lost, the only true
emotion hidden among the burden of not knowing how to cope, how the kitsune thinks he
should feel. What a demon like him is expected to feel.
So calm, yet troubled.
A mask so thick, yet slipping under Chuuya’s fingertips.
“No.” The redhead murmurs back. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Will you stay with me despite it?”
Despite not knowing how to convey what Dazai feels, despite not knowing how to let it out
and be seen—
“I will.”
And that one is a promise Chuuya never breaks, not when his presence is needed by his
husband’s side, however silently.
Not for the first and not for the last time, they sit under the sakura tree in their garden, each of
them thinking back to different moments and different conversations, while Dazai’s hand
holds onto Chuuya’s a little bit tighter than before.
So many traces Kouyou left behind.
So many memories, scattered across the decades. Both good and bad, infuriating and
soothing.
Kouyou was always there, offering both advice and a helping hand, and from this day
onwards…
As the years go by and the scar of a lost one begins to heal, it’s time for everyone to find their
own answers. Their own reasons for the struggles they face.
The years give Dazai time to understand what it means to grieve and mourn and, eventually,
what it means to move on.
They give Chuuya time to find his peace, his own balance between the pain and the joy of
getting to see another day.
And it may not be easy, a life such as this one, no one has ever said it would be.
But it is what they get and…

It is what all of them come to celebrate.
Because no matter the freezing cold of winter, the cherry blossoms will always bloom again.
Chapter End Notes
I SWEAR IT'S 95% HAPPINESS AND 4% SMUT FROM NOW ON
5/5
Peaceful Years
Chapter Notes
FYI, there's a quick smut scene in the middle
—some years later—
The grass is pleasantly chill under Chuuya’s back and the weight of the small fox curled up
on his chest is warm and soothing. The tree casts a shadow over them, the animal
occasionally stirring in its sleep, or purring whenever the redhead strokes its head. The day is
bright, not a single cloud in sight, and the air is fresh with the smell of a summer forest and
blooming flowers.
Quiet and peaceful, save for—
“I leave for one day and Chuuya already has me replaced?”
Chuuya doesn’t open his eyes at the sound of Dazai’s voice, or when he feels the kitsune sit
down on the ground next to him. “Whine all you want, children take priority.”
“Even over your husband?”
“Especially over him.”
“How cruel.” Yet, Chuuya can hear how Dazai’s lips curl as he speaks. “Kitsunes are very
territorial, you know?”
Chuuya’s eyes half–open and look up at the fox with lazy amusement. “Are you really going
to fight with small pups over a nap?”
“No.” Dazai’s ears flicker happily. “But I could~”
“That’s pitiful, you know?”
“That’s only natural when my husband is ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring anyone yet.” Then… “Anyway, how was your visit?”
Maybe they aren’t the most regular ones, but for a long time now Dazai has been visiting
Mori’s palace every once in a while. Sometimes he’s only gone for a few hours, sometimes
it’s a day or two – Chuuya tags along whenever he feels like it, but not always.
It would be an overstatement to say Dazai and Mori’s relationship is anywhere close to what
Chuuya had with his dad, or with Adam, or what he still has with Verlaine whenever the man
is around, or when they go on journeys together. But it’s leagues better than what it was when
the redhead saw them interacting for the first time.
They can talk like normal people – well, ‘normal’ for them, anyway – and Dazai has long
since stopped glaring at the god any chance he gets. There are no hugs between them, at least
not from what Chuuya has seen, but…
There’s familiarity.
There’s warmth in the air when the two are together.
It may not be much in Chuuya’s mind but for them – it’s more than enough.
“It was fine.” One of Dazai’s tails stirs on the grass, a mischievous glint lighting up in his
eye. “Though I’m not sure Mori–san’s subordinates would share that opinion~”
Ah, so the kitsune went there to play with them again.
The yōkai world has been more peaceful for the last couple of years than Chuuya had ever
seen it be before then. To him, and to most likely everyone else, peace means good, Dazai
isn’t an exception for that – though it does also mean ‘boring’ for the fox.
Maybe it’s because of his nature that, whenever the calm and quiet atmosphere settles around
them for too long, Dazai becomes restless, seeking excitement in all sorts of forms. Or maybe
it’s how all demons are, because Chuuya finds himself doing the same, even if it’s not as
often for him as it is for Dazai.
But conflicts are too troublesome, bringing with them consequences that neither of the two
has the patience for.
Mori’s training grounds and new subordinates that need to be trained, though?
They are always there.
“Did you almost burn someone’s tail off again?” Chuuya asks, guilty of having done the
same thing once. By mistake, of course.
“Not this time.” Dazai chuckles, clearly the same memory coming to mind. “But Yumeno
sneaked into the training grounds when they sensed me.”
“...oh.”
“Mhm~”
Quirking a brow at the kitsune, Chuuya pets the fox napping on his chest. “I take it you didn’t
chase them away.”
The question isn’t needed. Dazai very rarely denies Yumeno their games nowadays and, so
long as the vengeful spirit doesn’t cause too much havoc, Mori lets them do as they wish,
too.
The same goes for Chuuya, now that he doesn’t fear the spirit’s presence. It’s most likely the
darker, more powerful part of Chuuya’s soul that seems to draw Yumeno in every time the
redhead visits – the same part that once resonated with their wicked desires and insanity.
In the back of his head, Chuuya still does, to some extent, feel challenged by Yumeno’s
presence. He wants to let loose and let himself fight the way he likes it.
Sometimes, he does.
Other times, Mori makes sure to remind him he’s supposed to be only training his
subordinates, not scare them off or injure severely. And Chuuya obeys. He’d rather not make
the god angry and forbid him from coming back, not that the redhead thinks it would ever
come true – not if Mori doesn’t want to destroy what he has with Dazai now.
But Chuuya does understand and he wouldn’t repay the god’s good will with anything other
than gratitude.
When the powers lurking inside of Chuuya truly can’t stay put anymore, it’s Dazai who is
there to help him let it out. Their sparring session can last for anything between a few
minutes to a whole day, and by the end of it – Chuuya always finds himself, every part of
himself, sated.
He’s yet to win against the kitsune but he’s also yet to stop trying.
“It’s good to let them play every once in a while.” Dazai muses. “They get more dangerous
the more bored they become.”
Chuuya yawns. “Was there anything else interesting? Any new ones?”
“A tengu. An unusual one.”
“Unusual…?”
“She had white wings, not black ones.” Dazai’s lips twitch at the corners, his fangs flashing.
“And she reminded me of a certain guardian spirit who happens to hate me.”
Narrowing his eyes at the fox, Chuuya’s voice lowers and his hand stops on the red fur of the
small animal. “Did she say something about you?”
Because if she did, which Chuuya highly doubts because Mori wouldn’t allow that to happen
in the first place, but if she did say something out of place, she better not be there when—
“Ah, not at all.”
Well… Nevermind, then.

“But she had blonde hair and seemed more diligent than necessary.”
Rolling his eyes again, Chuuya lets out a groan. “So she was just trying her best. Don’t make
it sound like she did something wrong, oi.”
“Would Chibi fight her for me if she did~?”
“I would.” Chuuya shoots him a sharp grin as faint, red lines light up underneath his skin for
a brief second. “And then I would fight you for calling me that.”
“You do that anyway~”
“Because you deserve it!”
Dazai chuckles. “I sure do.” Then, he tilts his head at Chuuya, ears perked up. “Do I deserve
a welcome back kiss, too?”
A snort. “Hell no.”
“And if I win against my angry husband?”
“Your husband would have to get up first.” Chuuya teases, smirking at Dazai as he hugs the
small fox to his chest and ignores the pout it earns him. “And he’s quite comfortable here,
actually.”
“He can’t stay here forever.”
“Watch me, you—”
“Ehm…”
When Ryuu clears his throat, both Chuuya and Dazai’s gazes travel up from each other and
towards the two wolves coming their way. Gin is wearing a wide smile at his side, hands
folded behind her back, while Ryuu seems tense, looking mostly to the side and not at the
other two.
“Dazai–sama. Chuuya.” He greets them, both siblings bowing their heads, because some
things just never seem to change no matter how much Chuuya tries to make it happen.
The redhead’s brows furrow slightly. “Everything okay, Ryuu?”
Next to her brother, Gin offers a happy nod.
“It is.” Ryuu answers, glancing at his sister briefly before finally looking at Chuuya and the
kitsune. “Everything is perfectly fine.”
Next to the redhead, Dazai tilts his head, his eyes scanning Ryuu’s face for a quick second
before it widens slightly, his lips curling as the fox realises something that Chuuya has not
yet.
“I see~” Dazai chirps, making Chuuya even more confused.
“See what?” The redhead asks, looking between the three of them. “What am I missing
here?”
“I…”
Ryuu clears his throat again awkwardly. Then, the wolf straightens his back and takes a deep
breath, his sister’s hand resting on his arm.
“I have a favour to ask of you, Chuuya.”
…only him?
And more importantly: why does Dazai look so happy about it?
Sliding the door to their bedroom open, Chuuya lets out a heavy sigh as he walks inside. His
steps are heavy, tired, quietly followed by Dazai’s faintly amused gaze from where the
kitsune is sitting by the wall. There’s a small piece of paper in his hand, a message to
someone Chuuya is too exhausted to ask about before slumping on the futon.
“Preparations went well, I presume?” The fox muses, making the piece of paper disappear
among blue flames.
He gets a response mumbled into the pillow, a string of words that not even he can decipher,
but he takes it as a ’yes’ anyway.
“It’s good practice for Chuuya.”
“...shut it.” Turning his head to look at Dazai through the hair falling over his face, Chuuya
makes a dissatisfied face at the amused smirk he sees. “You could have helped, shitty fox.”
“I think it’s better if I don’t.”
It’s not even a matter of laziness, or him trying to sabotage the preparations purely for fun.
Some people would definitely not like Dazai helping out with it, or even him to be present
there when—
“But I trust Chuuya to take care of it.” Dazai chirps, his white ears flickering happily. “We all
do.”
“...ugh.”
The redhead tries to roll his eyes, but he only ends up having to huff his hair out of his face
over and over again, growing more annoyed as the seconds pass.
He could just use his hand to brush it to the side, or change his position for a more
comfortable one, but after hours of using his powers to help move stuff all around the area
back and forth – he just can’t be bothered to move anymore. Just because he has learnt to use
Arahabaki’s powers the best he can doesn’t mean it doesn’t tire him out.
Yet another huff earns him a small chuckle from the fox, which then earns Dazai a glare from
Chuuya in turn. Without moving from his seat, one of Dazai’s tails extends to the redhead,
brushing his hair away for him.
“And Chibi calls me lazy.” The kitsune teases.
“Because you are.” Chuuya doesn’t hesitate as he says it, finally free from the tickling of his
own hair, and it makes a thought cross his mind.
Something that, when Chuuya thinks about it now, seems obvious, and yet – he hasn’t
noticed it until now, even though it’s been decades already. It’s not a problem by any means,
it’s just… weird.
His brows furrow slightly, and Dazai tilts his head in a silent question when…
“My hair hasn’t grown.”
At all.
When was the last time Chuuya cut it? He can’t even remember.
How long ago did he pass the point where such an obvious, trivial thing wouldn’t occur to
him anymore? When did he stop noticing the things humans notice with so much ease?
Dazai blinks, then chuckles into his sleeve, his lips curling. “Do you want it to?”
“I mean… not really, no?” What Chuuya does remember is how annoying it was when his
hair got past a certain length, always getting in the way, and he isn’t particularly eager to
experience that again. “But shouldn’t it, I don’t know, grow at least a bit?”
Waving his hand dismissively, Dazai shakes his hand. “For demons and the like, it would
only be an inconvenience to have to cut it over and over again. Our hair stays the length we
want it to, most of the time.”
While Chuuya can hear every word Dazai says, the answer he gets only confuses him more.
“...huh?”
“It will grow out fast if Chuuya wants it too.” The fox explains. “Or not at all if he doesn’t.”
…just like that?
Wait.
Can everyone do that? Even—
Pulling himself up on both elbows, Chuuya’s brows are slightly furrowed – not angry or
annoyed, but more… curious than before.
“How?” He asks, the ache of his muscles all forgotten. “Can you do it, too?”
Dazai raises a brow at that, growing even more amused. “Of course, I can.”
The expectant look in Chuuya’s eyes must give away his thoughts, because the kitsune only
inhales deeply as his smile softens into a lighter one. Into something not as teasing, only
more understanding of Chuuya’s curious nature. And, well, Dazai does enjoy showing him
everything there is to see in this world.
Chuuya watches with wide blown eyes and parted lips how the dark locks flutter in the non–
existent wind, before they fall down the kitsune's shoulder and body in long strands.
“Like this.”
Chuuya tries to listen to what Dazai tells him, but the sight in front of him makes it incredibly
hard to focus.
“You just need to wish for it.”
Some of his hair falls over the white bandages but Dazai doesn’t seem bothered by it. They
reach to his shoulders, chest, then pool around his hips on the floor. It’s long and mostly
straight, only waving at the ends, dark against the white fur and—
“But it doesn’t work the other way around.”
Blinking, Chuuya looks up from Dazai’s hair elegantly flowing down to his lap. “Huh?”
“It can only grow on its own.” The kitsune says and lets out a sigh.
Then, he brings his hand up and blue blames envelop his fingers, leaving behind a small
dagger resting on his palm. With his free hand, Dazai grabs a thick part of his hair, stretching
it in front of himself…
“You still have to cut it when—”
But he doesn’t get to move any further. His dagger doesn’t reach the hair, not when Chuuya’s
hand on the fox’s forearm stops him, firm fingers keeping his arm from moving further.
Instead of getting rid of what the kitsune knows is an unnecessary annoyance, Dazai stares at
Chuuya’s hand, then at the boy’s hesitant expression and the storm of thoughts raging behind
his eyes…
“Could…” The redhead wets his lips, looking somewhere to the side to avoid meeting
Dazai’s red gaze. “Could you… maybe… leave it like that?”
Because Chuuya knows that what he’ll see on the kitsune’s gaze will be the end of him.
“...just for one night?”
Or of his pride, at least.
Sure enough, when Dazai understands, Chuuya can hear it in his voice. The teasing grin, the
pleased way his tails stir, the way he tilts his head.
“Oh?”
How he lowers his voice into a velvet purr—
“Does Chuuya like it more like this?”
Fucking annoying fox.
The redhead makes a face, his lips twisting slightly. “...no?”
A hum rings close to Chuuya’s ear, much closer than the man thought it would be. “Not at
all?”
“...” Well, now that Dazai sounds so sure of himself, Chuuya can’t admit it to his face. It’s a
matter of pride, of not letting the fox win. “I just think it would be a waste.”
Another hum vibrates through the redhead’s body as Dazai presses a smile to his ear, the
dagger disappearing once more in a brief flash of blue flames.
“A waste, you say?”
Without any warning, Dazai pulls his arm higher, dragging Chuuya’s body up from the floor
when the redhead is too shocked to let go of his hold on the kitsune’s forearm—
“Oi—!”
—and when he looks up, a pair of red eyes peeks at Chuuya from behind long strands. Bright
and playful, satisfied with the faintly faster pace of the man’s heart as Chuuya meets his gaze.
Dazai’s smirk is sly, his fingers leaving electrifying trails as he guides Chuuya’s leg over his
lap until the redhead is straddling him.
“Well, if my husband insists.”
The redhead doesn’t fight it but he doesn’t give in that easily, either. “Your husband is tired,
remember?”
Even if he has already forgotten about it himself.
“All the more reason for me to help him relax, isn’t it~?” When Dazai tilts his head, the long
strands fall over his shoulder like a dark waterfall and Chuuya has to force himself not to
look at it too intensely. “Or do you not want to make the most of your ‘one night’?”
“...”
Chuuya’s eyes narrow, his lips twitching both with annoyance and, traitorous to his own
mind, anticipation. He remembers how Dazai enjoyed the time when it was Chuuya with
longer hair and it’s only now that he’s discovering a similar… fondness for the same trait but
on Dazai.
Is that the universe teaching him about hypocrisy?
Is that the punishment he gets for making fun of Dazai’s pouting when Chuuya had Gin cut
his hair?
Because if so, the redhead is ready to suffer through a little bit of teasing if it means he gets
to experience something new – something that is surprisingly tempting, drawing him in.
Chuuya lets the long strands flow between his fingers as he brings his hand up, stretching his
arm far behind Dazai’s back and watching the dark arches of his hair slip from his hand.
“It doesn’t have to be one night.” He says in a low voice, leaning more into the kitsune’s
space as Dazai’s hands settle on his thighs. “You can grow it out any time, no?”
“Correct.” Dazai’s thumbs press more into Chuuya’s legs, brushing them through the material
of his kimono. “But I remember Chuuya only asking for one.”
He settles more comfortably over Dazai’s laps, resting his arm on the fox’s shoulder, their
faces inches apart. “You don’t have to be annoying about it, you know?”
“Oh, but I do~” The kitsune hums, satisfied when the redhead doesn’t pull away as he leans
forward, his lips brushing Chuuya’s cheek teasingly. “So which will it be, dear husband?”
His breath fans over Chuuya’s skin, right under his ear…
“Enjoy the night, or…” The redhead can feel the smirk when Dazai bites his ear playfully.
“...’waste it’?”
At this point… the answer is pretty obvious, isn’t it?
But it would be a waste to just go along with it without making it fun, wouldn't it?
Despite an aroused shiver that runs down Chuuya’s spine, he smirks to himself, burrowing
his hand into Dazai’s long locks behind his head and—
He fists his hand and pulls.
Not too hard, just enough to have Dazai tilt his head slightly back instead of having the
kitsune whisper into his ear and…
“What do you think, hm?”
The look of brief surprise that melts into vicious satisfaction does something to Chuuya,
somewhere deep. It stirs his gut until all the exhaustion is forgotten and there’s only the hot,
eager burning under his skin. Chuuya always knew the fox had a thing for pulling his hair but
now that he can do the same… the appeal is certainly there.
Dazai’s fangs flash in a grin, his tails pressing to Chuuya’s back. “My, my~” He doesn’t try to
free himself, doesn’t seem to mind the hand still fisted in his hair and keeping his head tilted
back at all.
Like this, his eyes are half–lidded, crimson hunger swirling with dark desire over one white
and one dark background. The rest of the bandages are also gone by the time Chuuya realises
it, even if they’re both still fully clothed.
“Enjoying the view?” The kitsune purrs.
And… Maybe.
Maybe even a little bit more than Chuuya thought he would.
There’s something intoxicating in holding Dazai still, even if they both know the kitsune
allows it to be so. Something satisfying and… addictive. So, Chuuya lets himself enjoy it and
doesn’t waste any more time to pretend he doesn't want to taste more of this feeling, to get
drunk on it.
Chuuya’s hand only relaxes when his lips are pressed to the side of Dazai’s neck, planting
open–mouthed kisses down the column of it. It earns Chuuya a pleased hum, Dazai’s palms
sliding underneath the material of his clothes.
Ever since the redhead accepted what Arahabaki’s presence left inside of him, marking the
kitsune’s skin has become much easier than before and Chuuya always makes sure to take
full advantage of it.
He follows the kisses with sucks and bites, dark marks blooming under the black lines
mapping Dazai’s fair skin. His other arm comes around Dazai’s neck, now both of his hands
playing with the long strands slipping through his fingers.
“Now, now, Chuuya.” Dazai muses, loosening Chuuya’s clothes further without hurry. “Or I
might think you prefer it like this.”
The redhead snorts, sucking a dark mark right under Dazai’s jaw. “As if you didn’t do the
same when my hair was longer.”
It’s been decades since then but it has not been forgotten.
A hum answers him, followed by long fingers sliding up his thighs and hips, teasing his waist
before sliding back down to his ass. “Fair point.”
“Really?” Pulling away to look him in the eyes, Chuuya arches a brow. “Not even trying to
deny it?”
“Why would I?” He squeezes Chuuya’s ass at the same time he leans forward, teasing–
licking the man’s bottom lip. “We both enjoyed it~”
Fingers tangled in dark locks, Chuuya pulls Dazai into a kiss and arches under his touch. His
previous pretence of annoyance is replaced with tongue and teeth and fangs, with lips
dancing together in perfect sync. And Chuuya can’t be sure if it’s because he’s acting more
straightforwardly than usual, or because Dazai genuinely enjoys it, but—
He swears he can hear purrs woven into the growls and groans every time his fingers tighten
in his hair.
So, he does it again.
A lot.
Even when Dazai’s fingers tease his entrance, slipping inside without a warning. Even when
Dazai is inside of him, with arms circling his waist as he pulls him to sink down on his cock.
Sometimes, Chuuya tugs at the long strands just to look at the kitsune. At the burning eyes
and a long scar stretching across his eye and cheek. At the alluring smirk and sharp fangs. To
see his eyes darken with desire, feel how his tails tighten around Chuuya’s body.
It pours liquid fire of passion over his heart, clouds his mind with satisfaction and lust, but
also with the tingling sensation of owning this moment. Because no one else is allowed to see
Dazai like this, his many masks stripped off and pure, animalistic intent seeping into his eyes
and thinning his self–control each time Chuuya pulls at his hair and leaves open–mouthed
kisses on his neck.
Dazai’s hands leave imprints on Chuuya’s body, nails digging into his skin and scratching it
the way he would never allow himself to when the redhead was still human.
Every time Chuuya sinks down, Dazai’s hips snap up to meet him, moans and growls and the
sounds of skin slapping on skin echo inside the room. Once the kitsune’s pace grows faster,
Chuuya throws his head back. His hands clench and unclench in Dazai’s hair, hot lips trail
paths on his throat, fangs graze his skin.
And then—
“Os—wha—?!”
Chuuya’s back hits the futon, while his hips are kept high in the air. His arms are thrown over
his head, clutching at the comforter while white tails quickly cover them and wrap around his
wrists. And when the boy look up—
A pair of red eyes shines from behind a dark curtain falling around Dazai’s figure. His chest
is bare, his kimono open and hanging from his forearms.His hands keep Chuuya’s middle up
and his ass pressed to his hips, two tails wrapping around the redhead’s ankles as support.
The tips of Dazai’s hair tickle Chuuya’s skin, the inside of his thighs and where his cock
twitches over his stomach.
“Let’s both enjoy the night to its fullest, shall we~”

And that they do.
It’s only hours later, when Chuuya sits on the futon and leans his back on the wall, lazily
smiling to himself, sated and feeling blissful as he braids Dazai’s hair, that a certain detail
catches his eyes.
His fingers don’t stop as he looks towards it, only freezing when he realises what exactly he
is seeing—
“The door was open all this time?!”
Dazai looks over his shoulder, all too un bothered by that fact. “Yes? You didn’t close it when
you came in.”
A new wave of blood rushes to his head as Chuuya tightens his fingers around the tips of
Dazai’s hair, his face growing hot at that thought. “And you didn’t tell me?!”
“Well…” Dazai’s smirk grows mischievous again, with fangs flashing behind swollen lips.
“Someone here seemed too focused and too… eager about my hair.”
Oh, this fucking—
“I merely wanted to let Chuuya enjoy himself~”
“Osamu, I swear to gods—!”
“Ah, ah, ah~” Falling backwards, the kitsune leans on Chuuya’s chest, tilting his head back to
look up at him. The fur of his ears tickles Chuuya’s chest and the long braid falls next to his
legs when the redhead lets go of it. “Did I not tell Chuuya this before? He should really be
careful with his words, and especially with promises made to the gods~”
The redhead groans loudly, the back of his head hitting the wall as he suppresses the urge to
smack Dazai’s face hard.
He’s never leaving this room ever again.
He’s never going to—
“Relax, Chibi.” Dazai chuckles after a long, agonising moment. “I didn’t mention it because
there’s no one here, anyway. Both Ryuu and Gin are still away.”
Which is not an excuse if you ask Chuuya but… well, it does help.
A little.
“I hate you.” Chuuya mumbles, his eyes closed. “I hate you so much.”
A chuckle answers him. Then, Dazai turns his head far enough to plant a featherlike kiss on
one of the dark marks he left on Chuuya’s chest before—
“I love Chuuya, too~”
If anyone asked Gin what she thinks about this situation, there would only be one answer to
it.
“Oh? If it isn’t Gin–chan~”
This. Is. A joke.
A highly unfunny one at that.
“Fancy meeting you h—”
Before the other woman can even finish, a short and narrow black slides out of Gin’s sleeve
as the wolf leaps forward, aiming it to the side of the woman’s neck but—
“Not quite polite, are we?” Teruko muses as he avoids the blade with ease, wrapping her
hand around Gin’s wrist to keep it still. “But then again, that has always been your charm,
Gin–chan~”
Gin glares at her, the ‘don’t call me that’ burning in her eyes.
“And still not very talkative, either, huh?”
When another blade slides into Gin’s other hand, Teruko lets her go and jumps back a few
steps, bringing her hands up in a peaceful manner.
“Now, now. No need to act so harsh.” She smirks at the other girl, the long, dark–red tail
swaying behind her back. “Why don’t we just talk, hm? It’s been a long time since the last—”
“You stabbed me.” The dark wolf hisses, her eyes narrowing.
“Ah, well, that I did.” Not the least bit apologetic, Teruko shrugs. “But we already fought that
off, didn’t we?”
Gin doesn’t move to attack again but her gaze doesn’t soften, either. “You kidnapped Chuuya
and—”
“And he killed my god, and lived.” At that, Teruko’s voice lowers, the cheerfulness of it
gone. “Did he not?”
The last word carries silence with itself, a long pause when neither of them speaks. To Gin, it
doesn’t make any of what has happened any better but… she does have a point.
“Ah, but don't worry.” When Teruko speaks up now, the shadow is gone from her voice once
again, her smile light as the tone he chirps. “I’m not holding it against you, or him. The past
stays in the past, right?”
Gin narrows her eyes again, the two blades disappearing into her kimono as a wordless ‘why
are you here, then?’ appears written all over her face.
“Believe me, this meeting is nothing but an accident.”
Why does Teruko’s lips twitch, then?
Why does she seem to be enjoying this?
“Not that I mind it~”
With a roll of her eyes, Gin turns around, ready to walks away as fast as possible but—
“Didn’t miss me at all?”
The mocking pout in Teruko’s voice makes her stop despite herself, something inside of Gin
refusing to walk away from the other wolf.
“I’m hurt~”
She looks over her shoulder, just in time to see Teruko fold her hands behind her back,
skipping towards Gin as if they were friends, an all too innocent smile on her face.
“Because I sure missed you.” When she stops in front of her, Teruko leans slightly down,
long hair falling down her shoulders. “Gin–chan~”
“...”
“We don’t have to be enemies, you know?” Teruko continues, unbothered by the silence.
“...” (‘...what?’)
“We could be sparring partners, or friends, or something more if you really insist~”
“...” (‘...why would I ever—?’)
“Didn’t you enjoy it, back then?” Teruko’s voice lowers again but, this time, it’s not a threat,
or an accusation – this time, weirdly enough, it rings sweet.
Like honey.
Like poison—
“The circumstances weren’t ideal, I admit, but I could feel your thrill of it, when we fought
back then.” And when Teruko reaches out to take a long strand of Gin’s hair between her
fingers, Gin doesn’t move away. She doesn’t even slap her hand, or growls at the familiarity.
She doesn’t know why, she just… doesn’t feel the need to.
“...” (‘...so what?’)
“I wouldn’t mind having a rematch sometime.” Tilting her head, Teruko offers her a
somewhat apologetic smirk. “Without putting our lives on the line, of course.” Then, letting
the black hair slip away, she straightens her back again. “Having a meal together doesn’t
sound half bad, either.”
“...” (‘...how do you even know what I’m thinking?’)
Teruko giggles. “I’m living with a bunch of men who refuse to acknowledge and speak out
their feelings, and have been doing so for many decades. I know my way around silence.”
Gin considers her words, watching with careful eyes as Teruko bends down to pick up the
bag Gin dropped earlier and has already forgotten about – which wasn’t exactly wise of her,
but at least the excuse was sufficient.
“I come here often.” The other wolf says, offering the bag to her and…
Well, it isn’t something Gin can answer right away, especially when there are matters she
needs to attend to, far more important than this, but—
“...I’ll think about it.” She mutters, taking the bag and walking away.
Teruko doesn’t try to follow her, she only looks at the long hair blowing in the gentle breeze
and smiles to herself. She didn’t anticipate this meeting, and most certainly didn’t think she’d
get such a hopeful response when she saw the other wolf here, but… maybe not everything in
life is hopeless, after all.
Maybe, only maybe, some matters can be amended and made right.
“I’ll see you around, Gin–chan~”
Chapter End Notes
I may or may not have a thing for long haired Kitsunezai and I refuse to be judged for it
knsnfnflslcdm
Alsooooo... Teruko/Gin was never something I had specifically planned but after their
fight scene during the Shibusawa Arc I had an awakening and it would be such a waste
not to go with it so.... yeah :3 a good sprinkle of enemier to lovers is always a treat~~~
Some Things Change, And Some Never Do
Chapter Notes
Not yet.
It’s close, merely a few days away, but… it’s not the time just yet.
And, which Atsushi sometimes thinks may be worse than even the wait itself, he isn’t
allowed to help with anything concerning the preparations. The only thing Kunikida is
allowing him to do is the usual stuff: work, running errands and fulfilling his role as
Fukuzawa’s subordinate, and nothing else.
Atsushi doesn’t mind spending his days fulfilling his responsibilities during the days leading
up to the big date, not at all. He’s glad to be doing anything that can make the time go faster,
it’s just… He feels bad whenever he catches a glimpse of his friends working in the distance,
where he isn’t allowed yet. Kunikida even gave him a strict order about it, to stay away from
any preparations until it’s time.
It may be a special occasion and, theoretically, the same rules should not apply, but
Kunikida’s orders are not to be ignored no matter the circumstances and Atsushi isn’t willing
to see what going against it would get him in this situation. It’s not worth the risk, whatever
that risk may be.
Speaking of the guardian spirit, though…
“Um, Kunikida–san?” Atsushi asks him as they pass each other one day.
The guardian spirit stops and looks up from his scroll, his attention now fully on the boy. “Is
there a problem, Atsushi–kun?”
“No, no!” The tiger shakes his head. “It’s just…” His tail flickers behind him, colourful eyes
filled with determination. “I just wanted to make sure that, em, you know that Dazai–san will
be attending as well, right…?”
Of course, he would be.
For Atsushi, it’s the most obvious thing in the world, especially considering Chuuya’s help
with the preparations. Kunikida doesn’t have the power to stop the kitsune and, even if he did
have a way to do so, Atsushi wouldn’t allow it.
Not for that.
Not when Dazai is one of the most important guests to attend.
“...” The guardian spirit doesn’t utter a word as he looks at him, his expression unreadable for
a second that stretches far longer than it would be comfortable before… “Necessary
preparations have been made for it, yes.”
Atsushi blinks at him, somewhat confused about the answer. “Necessary preparations…?”
Like… what exactly?
“Yes.” Kunikida simply says, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. “Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I have matters to attend to.”
“I—of course…”
Just like that, when the tiger steps out of his way, Kunikida nods at him one last time and
walks away without another word.
Atsushi isn’t sure what to think anymore.
He’s aware of Kunikida’s… opinion about Dazai and, hence, about Ryuu. It has always been
more than clear that they simply aren’t meant to get along with each other. However,
Kunikida isn’t the unreasonable type, he isn't blind to people’s feelings and he knows how to
respect one’s choices.
Yes, he was against Atsushi’s relationship with Ryuu.
But not once has he ever tried to undermine the recent development, nor has he tried to
change Atsushi’s mind.
What the boy can’t seem to put his finger on is whether Kunikida is actually happy for him…
or not. Or just what it is that the spirit is feeling.
Because, sometimes, it genuinely feels like Kunikida is happy for them. The guardian spirit is
the one who has put the most thought into all the preparations and is overseeing the process
of setting everything up. But there are also times like these, where his reactions don’t quite
make sense. It’s not like Atsushi wants Kunikida to get angry, or annoyed, about Dazai being
one of the guests, it’s simply the only reaction that feels natural to him.
Indifference doesn’t suit Kunikida one bit, especially when it’s not even an act good enough
for Atsushi to believe it.
He doesn’t understand what is going on in the man’s head, or whether it’s good or bad or
what, it’s just—
“Please, forgive him.”
Suddenly, a voice rings right from behind Atsushi, startling the tiger and making him jump in
place. He hasn’t felt anyone’s presence until a heartbeat ago when the voice called out to him,
and when he turns around…
“Fukuzawa–sama!”
The god is right there, in all his quiet glory and calm demeanour.
“He means well.” Fukuzawa says, gesturing for Atsushi to relax and not bother with bowing
before him. “Both for you and your partner.”
Atsushi’s shoulders droop under the god’s gaze, his ears lowering slightly. “I wonder about
that…”
“He does.”
“...how can you be so sure, Fukuzawa–sama?”
“Kunikida is a good man, who cares for his friends and family.” The god answers without a
drop of doubt in his voice. “Even if he does not always show it in the same way as others
do.”
Atsushi swallows and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing up at the god. “I know,
it’s just…” A sigh. “I really don’t think he likes Ry—Akutagawa–kun.”
And Atsushi doesn’t actually need Kunikida to like Ryuu.
All he wishes for is that the spirit would trust him, trust them.
But Fukuzawa only shakes his head slightly. “It’s not that he isn’t trying to, Atsushi–kun. It’s
his own past that is making it difficult for him.”
“Kunikida–san’s past…?”
“He had a lover once, before he started working for me, and she was the person most dear to
him. But her way of life was too different from his, much like your partner’s is different from
yours.”
…Kunikida had a lover like that?
Someone like Ryuu?
Why is he acting like he can’t stand the idea, then?
“But Kunikida wasn’t and isn’t you, Atsushi–kun.” Fukuzawa continues, a faint, melancholic
note threaded into his words. “He thought they were too different to be one, so they parted
their ways at his word.”
Atsushi’s eyes are blown, the words slowly sinking into his mind, as the god steps closer and
places a hand on top of his head.
“I believe he sees a chance he has turned his back on in you and your partner, and acting the
way he is, is the only way he can keep himself from regretting his own choices. But he does
mean well, so if you can – forgive him the moments when it may not feel like it.”
Atsushi only shakes himself out of the shock when Fukuzawa’s hand leaves his hair and the
god walks past him, heading for his quarters—
“We—” When Fukuzawa looks at him over his shoulder, Atsushi clears his throat. “We can
try inviting her…?”
Not that the tiger has any idea who ‘she’ even is, but if it helps Kunikida in any way, maybe
it’s worth a try. Or so it would be, if only…
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Atsushi–kun.”
Fukuzawa turns back, looking ahead as he slowly makes his way down the hallway.
“Sasaki Nobuko was a powerful demon, but she does not walk the earth anymore.”
Standing with Dazai a few steps away from the siblings, Chuuya can’t help but smile to
himself as he watches Gin proper up Ryuu’s clothes. He remembers the time he was in that
same position and a part of him still can’t believe it has finally come to this but—
It’s really happening.
The wedding.
Chuuya isn’t sure which is more funny to him: the fact that Atsushi got so fed up with
waiting for Ryuu to ask him to marry him that he did it himself, or that he did it on the exact
same day that Ryuu finally found the courage to ask him and they both ended up proposing to
each other.
Either way, they have all been waiting for this for a long time now, even if the preparations
did not go without certain… hardships. Namely, having everyone get along at least for one
day. Because, as it turns out, Atsushi has a lot of friends and they’ve been adamant about
making the ceremony perfect for the tiger and his soon–to–be–husband. Which Chuuya
thinks is adorable in itself if not for one, tiny detail—
Dazai.
Or rather, Dazai being in the same vicinity as Kunikida and vice versa.
They all agreed that the wedding will absolutely not take place in their garden – there
wouldn’t even be enough space for it as it is, not without rearranging the entire garden – or in
Atsushi’s god’s palace, but rather in an open area near it. It’s in the same dimension as the
god’s home but far enough for everyone not to argue about the kitsune’s presence.
Then, the preparation part came along.

Of course, it is a big day for Ryuu just as much as it is for Atsushi, which means it shouldn’t
be only the tiger’s friends that are in charge of it. Gin helped a lot, obviously, but the only
other two people that could be of any help were Dazai and Chuuya.
And, as one would expect, it ended up being only Chuuya in the end.
It meant days of moving stuff around and trying to get along with Atsushi’s friends, including
Kunikida, which then left the redhead exhausted and with a headache every single evening
even if it wasn’t as bad as he expected it to, but…
Now that the day is here, Chuuya knows it was worth it.
“Anxious?” The redhead teases, holding back a chuckle when he sees Ryuu’s small frown in
the mirror.
The wolf meets his gaze through the reflection, looking between him and Dazai. “...no.”
“At all?”
Chuuya can see Gin’s smirk and shining eyes as she finishes up the last touches to Ryuu’s
kimono, patting her brother’s shoulders when she’s done and stepping away to admire her
work.
“...at all.” The wolf mutters, looking over himself in the mirror.
For once, despite Dazai’s presence, Ryuu’s ears and tail are out on full display, dark fur
matching the dark patterns of his clothes. It’s only now that Chuuya realises there is a faint,
barely noticeable, red shine to them when light hits Ryuu’s fur right.
He never noticed before, has never had many occasions to, with how the siblings tend to hide
their features more often than not. But like this, with black and red waves flowing over a
white material, it highlights the shine enough to catch Chuuya’s eyes. And it’s those exact
features – slightly lowered ears and an unnaturally still tail – that gives away Ryuu’s stress,
too.
“You’re not very convincing, you know?” Chuuya snorts, crossing his arms when the boy
turns around to face them. “Relax, Ryuu. You’re going to be fine.”
It’s a wedding, not war.
There are no more battles waiting for him, or for Atsushi.
“...”
Although… Chuuya can relate.
He remembers how he felt on his wedding day, both more happy than he had ever been
before and nervous for the most nonsensical reasons – at least until he saw Dazai waiting for
him. Then, with the one he had decided to love until the end of time at his side, there was
nothing Chuuya was afraid of anymore. No doubts left behind.
Which is why he hopes Ryuu would believe him when he says it’s going to be okay, that once
he sees Atsushi, he’ll forget about all the nerves and—
“If you continue being nervous,” Dazai says next to him. “It will trouble Atsushi–kun.”
—and why does Dazai’s advice work better than Chuuya’s to get Ryuu to lighten up? The
redhead doesn’t know.
It makes him feel both relieved and slightly annoyed to see a shy smile bloom on the wolf’s
lips after what Dazai has just said, because it was Chuuya who spent his days helping out,
and yet now it’s the kitsune who is taking the credit for being the helpful one? Truly unfair a
life can be.
But, well, it doesn’t actually matter that much.
As long as it helps Ryuu to calm his mind, that’s all that matters, even if the smirk Dazai
sends Chuuya after that feels too satisfied for the redhead’s liking.
“Sorry.” The wolf mutters, offering Gin another smile as he thanks her for helping him put
the robes on.
Returning a smile much brighter, Gin moves to the side, clearing the way to the door, but
before any of them takes a step towards it, Dazai moves away from his spot by the wall. He
doesn’t move to leave the room yet and, instead, he steps closer to Ryuu, his one visible eye
bright with warm, red sparkles.
“Not quite done yet, I’m afraid~”
The red flame–like patterns painted from the corners of Ryuu’s eyes and down his face and
neck glitter when the wolf tilts his head to the side at the kitsune’s words, equally as confused
as everyone else.
“Dazai?” Chuuya calls after him.
“Dazai–sama?”
Without a word of explanation, the fox takes out his arms from the sleeves of his kimono. His
right hand reaches somewhere to the side, blue flames flashing in a bright flare right before—
“There you go~”
With one swift motion, Dazai drapes the dark material over Ryuu’s shoulders, then closes it at
the front with a small, golden chain. It falls down around Ryuu’s figure as a dark cape, with
patterns of red and blue woven into it, similar to the ones on kimono but not quite the same.
There’s a scenery that Chuuya recognises only partially. He recognises the story that he
knows, that he has witnessed. But there are parts to it that are foreign to him, bits and pieces
he was never told—
Bits and pieces that only the siblings and Dazai would know.
“Now, you’re ready.” The kitsune smirks, the look in his eye casually warm as he meets
Ryuu’s wide eyes.
The wolf is staring at himself in the mirror with wide eyes, disbelief written all over his face.
“Daz—”
“Let’s go~” Turning around without waiting for Ryuu to finish, the fox walks towards the
door, his tails swaying behind him, pleased with his work. “Chibi, Gin~”
It takes Gin a second longer than Chuuya to regain her composure, following in their steps
when the redhead joins Dazai with a roll of eyes.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to act like a normal person sometimes, you know?”
“Hm?” Dazai blinks at him, red shining behind dark bangs. “I have no idea what Chuuya
means.”
“Yeah, sure. As if you—”
“Dazai–sama.” From behind them, Ryuu looks up at the kitsune, his fingers lingering on the
golden clasp under his neck as his features soothe out. “...thank you.”
But Dazai doesn’t answer, not to that. The kitsune only waves a hand over his shoulder, his
tails pushing both Chuuya and Gin through the door.
“Don’t keep Atsushi–kun waiting any longer, Ryuu~”
The moment they step out of one of the buildings – the ones they also had to set up
specifically for this occasion – and into the space that they’ve been preparing for this day,
Chuuya takes a moment to let himself take the view in.
The clearest of skies above them.
The greenest of fields stretching far and beyond.
The altar and the aisle leading to it, all decorated with the flowers he both does and doesn’t
recognise. They bloom brighter and more graceful than Chuuya remembers from yesterday,
filling the air with the sweetest of scents.
Did someone do something to them overnight?
Or is it just a coincidence?
Regardless—
Each side of the aisle has guests already waiting for the ceremony. Atsushi’s side is filled
with all sorts of faces, some of them Chuuya sees for the first time in his life.
The tengu siblings stand closer to the altar, their wings well groomed. There’s a girl with
long, red hair standing next to them, seemingly human if not for the dark, chilling aura that
sticks to her. Then, there is a man with spiky, feline–like ears sticking from a mop of dark
hair and… a blanket thrown over his shoulders? At a wedding?
Weird, but Chuuya doesn’t think he’ll ask about it.
Three other women of various demon characteristics stand next to him, and many other
people behind them as well. Kunikida is the only one missing, most likely still helping
Atsushi with getting ready.
At the altar, Fukuzawa is patiently waiting for the ceremony and busying himself with
observing the many cats strolling around the area without care and sometimes brushing their
tails on people’s legs. They seem cautious of Dazai, and even more so of Gin, as the three of
them come closer, but every now and then Chuuya would feel a long tail brush his own leg,
or hear a quiet meow trying to gain his attention from the ground. He can’t play with them
now, very unfortunately, but once the ceremony is over…
Will Dazai be jealous of a few cats? Probably.
Is it going to stop Chuuya from paying attention to them? Absolutely not.
There aren’t as many people on Ryuu’s side but everyone that is there… Their presence is
something that will forever be appreciated. There’s Verlaine – invited by Ryuu himself, even
without Chuuya mentioning it – Hirotsu, most likely representing Mori as well, Oda and
Ango are also there, Yosano and—
…is that a raccoon?
Tall, white flowers bloom nearby where Ranpo and his companion are standing, something
Chuuya recognises all too well from the time they were used to help the Flags attend his own
wedding.
Kouyou’s flowers.
The last gifts she left Yosano with before…
Shaking those kinds of thoughts away, Chuuya follows Dazai to stand towards the end of the
aisle. Gin takes the places the closest to the altar, then Dazai, and then him, and everyone else
behind them.
Shortly after they take their place, Ryuu appears by the door opening up to the aisle and the
altar. His dark clothes are a stark contrast to the brightness of colours all around them but the
golden ornament under his neck reflects the light with a flame’s shine. Like a shadow that
doesn’t fear the light, but welcomes it into its embrace instead.
Now, it’s only…
Not even a minute later, Kunikida walks out the other door, swiftly walking up to stand next
to Fukuzawa and very conveniently avoiding looking at Dazai, or even acknowledging his
presence here. The shift in the atmosphere is obvious, everyone’s back straightening as they
look back at…
At the two demons standing side by side.
In robes of black and white, red and blue.
With fur of the night and of mountain snow.
Both with smiles more honest and more loving than Chuuya has ever seen them wear without
trying to hide from everyone’s gaze, with eyes brighter and seeing only the love in front of
them.
Atsushi’s hand rests on top of Ryuu’s as they walk down to the altar and—
Once more, a bond is formed.
Cheers and clapping follows the newlyweds as they step down from the altar and onto the
grass, heading to the reception area prepared nearby. Chuuya doesn’t try to hide his smile as
his eyes follow Ryuu and Atsushi, the two of them getting quickly surrounded by a small
crowd of other demons serving under Fukuzawa.
They’re quick to say their congratulations, these people.
They’re not as reserved as Yosano, or Oda, who patiently await their turn, or…
One of Dazai’s ears turns backwards on a small flicker, though the fox doesn’t move from his
spot just yet. Instead, he turns his head slightly, a red eye scanning the area around the now
empty altar. As if he’s searching for something without know exactly where or what it is—
“Something wrong?” Chuuya nudges him, following Dazai’s gaze but finding nothing out of
the ordinary anywhere in sight, even when he focuses his senses the best he can.
But there’s nothing, only the empty altar and the flowers surrounding it.Fukuzawa and
Kunikida have already followed the crowd, and everyone here, on Ryuu’s side, is starting to
walk towards the couple as well now…
“No.” The kitsune says after a second, his voice worryless as he looks back at Chuuya. “It’s
nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Nodding, Dazai then places his hand on the small of Chuuya’s back, gently pushing him
forward.
“Shall we~?”
“By the way…” Chuuya trails off, sipping on the drink he was offered and watching how
Atsushi is laughing at his husband’s distress when at least a dozen cats gather around him for
pets in the distance, Fukuzawa’s gaze never leaving the wolf now. “Is it fine for me to ask
how these two met?”
He only has a general idea of it, as much as he was able to deduce from Kouyou’s words a
long, long time ago – that Ryuu was the one to save Atsushi’s life and ‘freedom’. But how
that came around, and what made the wolf who tends to keep away from strangers help a
demon he did not know, that’s something Chuuya can’t seem to figure out.
Dazai’s lips curl around the rim of his cup as his gaze follows Chuuya’s. “Why, of course~”
Granted, it probably should be Ryuu and Atsushi that Chuuya should ask about it but… they
seem to be having fun, enjoying the newly formed bond and their time with everyone present.
If it were a big secret, something that they would rather keep for themselves, Dazai would
say so. Even if only for Ryuu’s sake and not the tiger’s.
“It’s a truly romantic story, actually.” The fox says, rolling his wrist and watching the liquid
inside his cup swirl around. “Demons age differently from humans but it was around the time
Ryuu and Gin’s powers were about to enter the period of growing into adulthood—”
Demon’s ageing process, at least, that is something the kitsune already explained to Chuuya
in the past, when he was talking about his own life.
“—and they would often tag along whenever I went out to take care of some unfinished
business.”
The redhead huffs at the ‘unfinished business’ part. He’s aware of Dazai’s past and that the
kitsune made many enemies purely because he was bored, or because… well, because he is
who he is. Chuuya also knows the fox’s patience used to be much thinner and that whenever
someone caused too much trouble, Dazai never hesitated to cut them down – literally
speaking.
There’s no point in trying to make it sound like anything else other that what it was –
anything other than Dazai going out to kill, or torture, whoever happened to cross his path on
a bad day.
Yet, he doesn’t say that, which makes Chuuya wonder…
“Are you minding your words so that no one tries to throw you out of the party?”
Dazai’s fangs flash in a smirk as he looks at Chuuya. “Good luck if they try~”
Normally, the redhead would agree, however—
“What about Atsushi’s god?”
Arrogant as Dazai very much is, the redhead is pretty sure even he would not dare to anger a
god when they’re in his domain, surrounded by his followers.
“Ah…” Tilting his head, the kitsune eyes Fukuzawa briefly, considering it. “I don’t think he
would try it, no matter what. I doubt he’d like to make Mori–san angry over a few
comments.”
…make Mori angry?
“Anyway~” The fox shrugs that thought away before Chuuya can ask about it. “There was
this pest crawling around my territory one time and I didn’t feel like playing nice about it.
But he was fast and skilled at running away before I could catch him.”
Chuuya’s brows climb higher, a mocking disbelief painting his voice. “Faster than even the
big, bag kitsune?”
Dazai waves his hand at the comment. “I thought he would stay around to fight instead of
running away. Pests like him are drawn to trouble.”
“‘Like him’?”
“It was a slave owner and a breeder of rare demon species.”
…oh.
Dazai is right then – a pest, indeed.
“He got away and I was thinking of letting him go like that because I knew he wouldn’t be
stupid enough to anger me twice, but…” A sigh. “Ryuu and Gin caught a familiar scent on
him, meaning he must have been involved in what happened to them when they were pups,
so I changed my plans and went after him with them.”
“And Atsushi was…?”
“One of the ‘merchandise’ the pest owned, yes. Birthed and raised in a cage.”
Despite knowing it’s all in the past and that Atsushi is now happy, Chuuya can’t stop the
anger coiling in his gut and the faintly red markings flashing underneath his skin at what
Dazai is telling him. There’s no undoing the past and Chuuya knows ‘that pest’ paid for what
he did, but—
But there’s a part of Chuuya that wishes he could be the one to make him pay instead.
“We got rid of him and then the siblings opened up all the cages.” Dazai continues. “We were
supposed to go back right after but then Ryuu saw that there was one demon that wouldn’t
come out of its prison no matter what.”
A small frown knots Chuuya’s expression as the redhead looks up at the kitsune. “And then
you did…?”
“Nothing.” Dazai shrugs. “I may have taken Ryuu and Gin in back then but that’s not exactly
what I do as a hobby. Ryuu, however, said he would stay behind to help him, I personally
thought it was pity at the time, and…”
Dazai chuckles, his tails stirring behind him.
“The rest is history, right?”
Well, yes.
The stories of how Ryuu tried to court Atsushi for the longest time Chuuya has already heard
from Gin and the others. The only bit that remains a question would be…
“How did he end up here, though?” Chuuya asks after a second. “I doubt Ryuu, or you, were
in any position to ask Kunikida to take him in.”
Or ask the man for anything, really.
That much hasn’t changed.
“Ah, Atsushi found them on his own. Ryuu was adamant about not tying him down to one
place after he had just gained his freedom for the first time, hence why he never invited
Atsushi to live with us, and once our little tiger learnt more about life, he started travelling on
his own. Things happened, I believe it was the tengu siblings that introduced him to
Kunikida, and he ended up where he is. That’s the short version, anyway~”
Short, but enough to paint a picture in Chuuya’s mind.
It gives more depth not only to how he views the relationship between Ryuu and Atsushi, but
it also explains why the wolf waited so long before deciding to get married. Maybe,
somewhere deep down, Ryuu is still reluctant about tying Atsushi to him because he doesn’t
want to take away what the tiger didn’t always have – freedom.
It’s too late now, anyway, and Chuuya doesn’t doubt that Atsushi is more than thrilled to
spare a little bit of his life and choices for Ryuu, he can see it on the tiger’s face and in his
bright smile.
But it does explain the wait, among other things.
“Well…” Chuuya takes a deep inhale, looking over the demons and spirits chatting all
around. “That’s good to finally know about.”
Better late than never, right?
Plus, Kouyou was right about it back then – it is a romantic story, even if the beginning of it
will forever remain shrouded in darkness.
Dazai hums, one of his tails coming to brush Chuuya’s back. “What a calm reaction. I
thought it would be more interesting~”
“Oi, I’m not going to make a scene at a wedding!” The redhead hisses. “Besides, they’re
happy now, right? Right.”
“You let a little bit of it spill earlier, though.”
“Yeah, well, anyone would.”
“Should we go scare Atsushi’s friends a bit now?” The kitsune asks, his voice dripping with
mischief. “I think some of them may be even more wary of you than of me.”
Chuuya shoots him a look, trying to hide how he doesn’t hate that idea. “Stop trying to ruin
the wedding, stupid fox.”
“It won’t ruin anything.” Dazai’s hand comes up to Chuuya’s face, his fingers playing with a
longer strand of hair falling over the redhead’s shoulder. “It will only make it a little more
interesting~”
Not that watching Ryuu struggle with taming a dozen cats and a raccoon isn’t entertaining
enough, because it is.
More than it probably should be.
“Or we can try to set Kunikida up with that tengu working for Mori–san now.” Dazai chirps,
his voice more that of a threat rather than a genuine offer. “Wouldn’t that be something, hm?”
“Are you trying to make him lose it with you being here?”
“Maybe a little~”
“You’re a menace.” Chuuya huffs, but he lets Dazai pull him in for a kiss nevertheless.
“And you’re this menace’s husband, dear Chibi.”
“Stop reminding me…”
Then, letting out a sigh when a couple louder voices reach them, calling out for everyone to
gather for another toast, Chuuya brushes Dazai’s hand away from his face and intertwines
their fingers instead. He nudges the fox to follow him, heading toward the crowd gathering
around the newlyweds—
“Come on, I’m too sober to go along with your games just yet.”
Later, though?
Later anything can happen.

—
“They looked happy.” Yosano says into the empty darkness of the room. “Everyone did,
actually.”
Her outer robes slide off her shoulders and she catches them with ease, folding the material
before placing it on top of one of the drawers. Then, she takes the hair ornaments off from
her hair and puts them next to the clothes.
“And not even a single fight broke out, can you believe it?”
She turns around from the drawer, a tired smile tugging at her lips as she runs a hand through
her hair.
“I’m almost disappointed. I was hoping for a little something.”
There are others still walking around the clinic and her home, Ranpo’s Poe most likely
staying over yet again. Yosano can’t understand why the spirit won’t just move in already,
she has already agreed to it – so what are they even waiting for now?
Ah, but it’s their choice, not hers.
Pushing away from the drawers, Yosano comes up to stand in front of the opposite wall of her
room—
In front of a kimono carefully hung there.
One more colourful than her own, but that which hasn’t been worn in a long time now.
Yosano’s hand comes up to it, her palm brushing the silky material as her eyes travel along
the floral patterns she has memorised. There’s an ache in her heart but there’s also happiness
– maybe not towards herself, but for those she holds dear.
“You would have been proud of them.”
Chapter End Notes
We're so close to the end, my friends :')

Lazy Days
Chapter Notes
It doesn’t come as a surprise to Chuuya that, for the first few weeks after the wedding, he
doesn’t see Ryuu around at all. He doesn’t know where he and Atsushi decided to go for their
honeymoon, but he doesn’t doubt it’s a nice place and that they’re making the most of it. As
they should, really.
Chuuya knows what it feels like not to get to live the marriage to the fullest, not being
allowed to do that, and he doesn’t wish that for Ryuu and Atsushi.
Besides, Rashoumon stayed behind to help Gin with guarding the forest, not that it needs it
anymore. It’s mostly the wolves’ habit by now, something they have been doing for so long
that it would feel strange to stop all of a sudden.
They can, should they wish to.
But if they choose to continue with their duty – so be it.
What Chuuya doesn’t understand, however, is something that’s connected to the forest, but
not exactly…
“...they’ll do what?”
The redhead blinks at Dazai from over the rim of his cup, not quite comprehending what the
fox has just said.
“They’ll stay where they are.” Dazai repeats nonchalantly. “Ryuu will continue to live here
and Atsushi–kun will remain at his god’s palace.”
Which, don’t get him wrong, Chuuya doesn’t mind at all.
Ryuu was the first demon he had gotten along with, him and Gin are one of the constants in
his life here – Chuuya’s friends and family. He likes talking to them, or having tea or lunch
together. It was their home before it was Chuuya’s.
But Ryuu is now married.
He and Atsushi – no one would try to stop them from finding a place only for themselves, the
redhead is sure of it.
If it was Chuuya in their place – and he is married to Dazai, so he understands the feeling all
too well – he would not want to be separated from his husband for a prolonged time. In the
beginning, he couldn’t stand being separated from him at all, let alone live somewhere where
he wouldn’t be able to sleep by his husband’s side.
Sure, it may be slightly different now, with how not only Chuuya’s feelings but also his very
soul have changed. But their circumstances are completely different and, besides, he has been
married for centuries now.
He never really asked about it, though he did wonder – would Atsushi come live here, with
the rest of them?
Would Ryuu leave to go there, under a god’s roof and with the demons that may not
necessarily be thrilled about having him around at all times?
Would they settle down together somewhere completely else?
Now that Dazai has given him the answer Chuuya was expecting the least – or not at all,
really – he isn’t sure how to react to it. It’s not his place to question their choices, it’s just…
Curious, the kitsune tilts his head, one of his tails stirring behind him. “Is Chuuya
disappointed?”
“Huh—?”
“Did you want to have me all to yourself at all times~?”
Annoyance replaces confusion as Chuuya rolls his eyes, his thoughts clearing at once. “No.”
Even if he did, he would never admit it.
Not to Dazai’s face and not to anyone else’s.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Then after a second… “Is it… not a custom to live together,
for demons? Even after marriage?”
He has never asked about it before, because why would he?
It was obvious for Chuuya, and he felt like it was obvious for Dazai to want to keep him
close – and, for the longest time, the fox was his main source of setting a standard for demons
and the like – but now…
Maybe it’s him and Dazai that are the exception?
The fox considers it for a second. “It depends. Some do it, others don’t.”
When Dazai looks at Chuuya, there’s a faint but genuine shine to his eye, his tone not as
teasing as it usually is. It’s faint and kept comfortably back, but Chuuya sees it nonetheless.
“Ryuu considers here to be where he belongs, and Atsushi–kun found his home at the god’s
side. Some things can’t be changed even with love.”
“...right.”
It’s not the most obvious explanation, but it still makes Chuuya somewhat embarrassed that
he didn’t think of this sooner despite knowing both Ryuu and Atsushi well enough to be
aware of it, deep down.
Even worse – he’s embarrassed that, out of all the people it could be, it’s Dazai who had to
tell him that.
He really is forgetting his humanity, isn’t he?
“They’ve built a place for themselves somewhere, though.” The fox continues. “A get–away–
from–everyone–house, I can assume.”
Well, at least that’s something.
“Ah, which reminds me.” Clapping his hands, Dazai’s lips curl further up, and Chuuya isn’t
sure if he should be scared of what hides behind that smile, or not. “I have a gift for my
husband~”
Furrowing his brows, the redhead puts his cup down and leans slightly back. “...a gift?”
It’s not that he’s being suspicious of Dazai or of the kitsune’s intentions, of course not, but—
“...why?”
It’s neither of their birthdays, nor is it any important anniversary, and while Dazai may
sometimes surprise Chuuya with the most random of ideas – there’s usually a reason for it. A
hidden agenda.
Most of the time, something that will end up getting on Chuuya’s nerves sooner or later.
“What for? What did you do—”
“Cruel as ever.” When Chuuya’s sceptical gaze doesn’t waver, Dazai only huffs out a laugh.
“I didn’t do anything. Not anything bad, that is.”
He stands up from his cushion, nodding at the door as his eye flashes red for a second.
“Come on, let me show you~”
Hesitant, but also fully aware that there is no stopping the fox once he decides on something,
Chuuya follows him through the long corridors of their house. It’s one of those that they
rarely ever use, having only empty rooms at both sides. It’s not until they reach almost the
end of this part of the house that Chuuya sees…
A rope hanging in their way, its ends attached to the both walls?
With several pieces of paper tied to it?
“What is that?” Chuuya asks, brows furrowed as he looks over the papers.
A hum. “Precaution.”
“Huh? From what?”
“From Chuuya.” Smirking at the redhead over his shoulder, Dazai sounds all too pleased with
himself as he speaks up. “From having him see it before it’s done~”
Ah, so it’s something big.
That sounds like trouble, and like a headache.
“...why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Extending his arm towards the rope, the tip of Dazai’s claw touches one of the papers and
sets it on fire, blue flames slowly burning through the spells concealing… something Chuuya
still can’t see. Or feel, for that matter.
“Because it’s supposed to be a surprise~”
He can sense a spell concealing whatever it is that Dazai has done, but only distantly and
only when he focuses on what hides behind the fox’s fire.
“Wha—”
Chuuya’s voice dies in his throat, his eyes blown wide when the image behind the blue
flames blurs and reshapes before them. The corridor and the rooms on each side disappear,
leaving behind only one sliding door where there used to be an open path until a second ago.
They are still in their home, he’s sure of it, but this isn’t the house Chuuya knows—
This isn’t any part of it that he recognises.
Suddenly, the air feels… warmer. More humid.
Not too much, it’s nothing concerning per se, but…
“...what did you do?” He narrows his eyes at Dazai, suddenly cautious of what lies beyond
the door.
But the kitsune only flashes his fangs and nods at the door. “See for yourself~”
The only consolation is that, since it’s Dazai, the chances of it being a trap aren’t too high.
Even if they can never be zero, even with him.
Or maybe especially with him.
Slowly, Chuuya steps to the door, still eyeing Dazai for any signs of it being a trap of sorts,
but seeing no indication for it whatsoever.
When his hand settles on the warm wood, he hesitates, an unfamiliar scent filling his lungs,
but it’s not like he has any other option out of this situation. A part of him is curious and he’s
pretty sure Dazai would make him see it even if Chuuya decided to walk away right this
instant – there’s only one option left, then.
With one last deep breath to brace himself for whatever is waiting on the other side, Chuuya
slides the door open and—
He stares.
And blinks.
And again—
“...what the fuck?”
After having seen many, many wonders of the yōkai world, after having met gods and
dragons and ghosts and everything in–between, Chuuya was sure nothing could ever surprise
him anymore – a mistake he makes over and over again. He should have known that such a
way of thinking would only be a challenge thrown at Dazai, and the fox loves to prove him
wrong.
Because even after the last few decades of witnessing all the things that would take Chuuya’s
breath away, the redhead was not ready for this.
No one in their right mind would expect something of this sort to happen out of the blue.
Dazai hums, his ear twitching happily. “Chuuya doesn’t like it?”
That’s not it.
The longer he stares at it, the more he loves what he’s seeing, it’s just—
“How the fuck did you make a hotspring appear in our house?!”
And how in the world did he do it without Chuuya noticing?!
“I claimed back a few favours.” Dazai muses from behind him when the redhead steps
forward. “It was quite easy, actually.”
“...easy?” The disbelief in his voice makes Dazai chuckle, but Chuuya is too busy
appreciating everything that surrounds him to care about it.
From the dark rocks around the steaming water, to the tall wooden panels around the area.
From the warmth settling on his skin, to the flowers planted around the hotspring.
He kneels at the edge of the very much not small pool and dips his fingers into the water –
it’s real.
It’s real and hot.
But how—
“How could something like this be easy?” He breathes out, a smile blooming on his lips
without the redhead noticing. He turns his head to look at Dazai, who is now standing right
next to him. “Are you insane?”
“Perhaps.” The fox’s grin stretches when he meets Chuuya’s eyes and sees the sparkles of joy
dancing in the blue orbs.
“But—but it’s—”
“It’s just a small gift~”
A small gift?
By what standards?!
“There are still many things I can do that you’re yet to see, little human~”
With his fingers still tracing small circles on the water’s surface, Chuuya snorts, looking up at
Dazai with slightly raised brows. “It’s been almost 300 years since I was last human, stupid
fox. Don’t you think it’s time to drop it already?”
Together with the ‘little’ comment that the redhead doesn’t have the strength to fight
anymore. Not right now, when his mind is still catching up to having a hot spring pop up in
his house out of nowhere.
Dazai’s face doesn’t change, his smile doesn’t fade.
When one of his tails moves forward, clear with the intent to poke Chuuya’s forehead, the
man jerks his head back to avoid it. He’s seen it happen more than enough times to be able to
avoid it when—
Tap!
Instead of his forehead, another tail that Chuuya didn’t see before, too focused on the one in
front of him, pokes the back of his head, making him fall silent in surprise and drawing a
satisfied hum from the kitsune.
“Chuuya will always be my little human, no matter how much time passes~”
—
“This is nice.” Chuuya sighs, relaxing into the water as his head rests on the stone behind
him. “You actually did something right for once.”
Dazai sits next to him, his body free from the confinement of his clothes and bandages as he
leans his head on one arm, his other hand tracing the dark scar on Chuuya’s chest absent–
mindedly.
“Is that all the thanks I’m getting for my hard work?”
“I thanked you already.”
He really did, Chuuya wouldn’t be so ungrateful as to forget about it. He said it more than
once, too, and was even the one to propose they try it out right away. If he lets it show too
much how much he likes it, it’ll get to Dazai’s head, and that’s something Chuuya would
rather avoid if he can.
He turns his head slightly to look up at Dazai. “Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t have
someone else do the actual work for you.”
The fox grins. “I supervised~”
A sigh. “I thought so.”
The water hugs Chuuya’s naked body in a warm embrace, the humid air and the distinct scent
of minerals soothing his mind. The hot spring isn’t too deep, barely enough for Chuuya to
stand and have the water reach up to his chest, and there are stone steps at the edges, where
they can both sit down comfortably.
The only detail that the redhead still needs to get used to is what surrounds the hot spring –
his house, but not quite the same anymore.
The flowers and tall bushes climb high along wooden panels of the walls but there is no
ceiling here – not a physical one, anyway. To a less adept eye, it would look like an open sky,
but Chuuya knows better than that.
He can sense the spell sealing this little world away from the outside.
The sky and the sun he sees above – he knows none of it is real, but merely an illusion,
making him wonder if it’ll change once the night falls.
“How did you do it, anyway?” He asks. “I mean, how did you hide it from me?”
“Masking spells aren’t that difficult. Especially when the eyes aren’t even looking for them~”
…ugh.
Can Chuuya not get a break from being on high alert even at home? Just how much did Dazai
exploit Chuuya’s state of constant exhaustion prior to Ryuu’s wedding?
“Okay, what about the spring itself, then?” The redhead picks another question. “There aren’t
any around.”
He would know. Even now, Chuuya still remembers people from his village would travel for
at least several days to reach the nearest hot spring, himself included.
“A servant of one of the water gods owed me a favour.” Dazai shrugs. “I had them do a little
trick underground.”
Chuuya blinks at him, both surprised and not so much. “You tricked a god into building us a
bath?”
“A god’s servant, yes~”
“...when?”
“You still sleep more than I do, Chuuya.” Dazai chuckles, his fingers sliding down from
Chuuya’s chest to his hand underwater. “All I had to do was be quiet.”
…ugh.
For the second time.
“I thought you didn’t like water.” Chuuya points out, arching one brow lazily.
And he doesn’t mean that Dazai is dirty, or that he’s scared of it, nothing like that. Even now,
it all comes back to what happened back with Shibusawa, with how cautious the kitsune was
at the sole mention of a pond appearing in the forest back then.
Even Chuuya himself can’t say that the sight of a river didn’t come with a shiver running
down his spine during the first year after he woke up, before he eventually got over it. It was
only natural, back then.
Now that the dragon is gone, the redhead likes to assume there’s nothing dangerous lingering
in every drop falling to his body, but he also knows Dazai’s overprotectiveness is deep–
rooted in the fox’s nature. So excuse him if he didn’t expect him to act so casually about
having something like this in their home, without Chuuya ever mentioning any need for it.
“It’s a powerful tool, yes.” Dazai agrees. “But I had several spells put up to protect it from
outsiders. Chuuya need not worry about it.”
A scoff. “I’m not worried, stupid fox. I just find it hard to believe you’d do it out of your own
free will.”
“Well…”
Ah, here it is.
“The bathtub was far too small to fit the both of us, wasn’t it~”
Of course, that would be Dazai’s incentive.
Chuuya’s eyes narrow at the fox as he slaps away the hand teasing his wrist underwater. “Oi,
don’t go making weird plans already.”
Dazai, however, doesn’t look the tiniest bit sorry, or discouraged from doing exactly that.
“There’s nothing weird about spoiling my husband when he relaxes.”
“You’re thinking of spoiling your own fantasies, Osamu.”
“The end result is the same, no?”
“Did you wait with it specifically for after Ryuu’s wedding? Actually, you know what—”
Chuuya pushes away from the stone and sits up more properly, waves forming around his
torso and wet hair falling over his nape and shoulders as he splashes water at the kitsune with
a quick move of his arm.
“—I know you did!”
Dazai doesn’t hide from the attack, his eyes only growing brighter above a fanged smirk.
“But Chuuya likes it~”
“The hot spring, not you!”
“Oh, I know.” Dazai purrs. “Chuuya loves me, after all, not just likes~”
Another splash as the redhead swims away, letting the water carry him. “Not when you’re
annoying, I don’t.”
But he doesn’t get far before Dazai follows, catching up to him in a single leap and wrapping
an arm around Chuuya’s waist, their naked bodies pressed to each other.
“What a little liar~”
“You will be a little dead soon!”
A hum. “Maybe later~”
All and every insult and denial Chuuya may try to put up, however, is lost the moment
Dazai’s smirk seals his lips.
Sometimes, Dazai Osamu can be a predictable creature.
And sometimes, Chuuya may feel like going along with it.
The redhead can’t help but roll his eyes at the happy purr Dazai lets out when Chuuya doesn’t
push him away and kisses back instead, leaving the argument for another time. It’s not the
deepest kiss they share, there’s an unhurried rhythm to it as their lips slide together and as
Dazai’s fangs graze the sensitive flesh before pulling away.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” The kitsune teases, too pleased with himself for Chuuya’s liking. “A
change of scenery.”
Well, it is better than having the fox get carried away in their garden.
Or in the forest.
Or literally anywhere else where there could, in theory, be other people around.
Gods, maybe he really is indulging Dazai in his ideas a little too much at times.
“I’m only going along with it because it feels nice here.” Chuuya says. Then… “And because
I’ll be gone for a few days.”
Dazai tilts his head, wet hair cascading around his face and white ears flickering above them.
“Gone?”
“A trip with uncle Paul.”
They came up with the idea at the wedding and didn’t plan much of it yet, but it’s not like
they need to. Chuuya has been practising using his powers to travel between different
locations lately, with Dazai’s help and much to the fox’s amusement, and he barely ever gets
lost anymore.
Besides, it’s high time for that as it’s been a while since the last one, mostly due to all the
preparations and the post–wedding laziness that followed them. But Chuuya hasn’t forgotten
his promise to uncle Adam. He would never.
The fox puts on a mocking pout, his fingers stroking Chuuya’s hips. “Even though we finally
have the time only for ourselves?”
His lips curling up without his consent, Chuuya slides a hand into Dazai’s wet hair,
scratching his scalp weakly.
“We can have that anytime if we really want to, Osamu.”
“Ryuu would beg to differ.”
“Ryuu isn’t here.”
And even if he were – usually, one look is enough to have the wolf go out for a long, long
walk and not ask any unnecessary questions. With Gin, it’s the same, even if she does send
Chuuya a look before doing so.
It used to make him want to combust on the spot at first but…
At the end of the day, he’d rather have a peace of mind and not worry about getting caught.
“And he isn’t coming back for a while still, is he?”

Dazai hums, one of his hands sliding up Chuuya’s side settling on his nape as the kitsune
leans down again—
“No, he isn’t~”
A shiver runs down Ryuu’s spine all of a sudden, the wolf’s eyes narrowing slightly.
“Everything okay?” Atsushi asks next to him, wide and curious eyes staring up at Ryuu from
the not so small ball of chazuke Atsushi makes sure to eat every single day without fail.
“...” Staring at him, Ryuu considers it for a second but… “Yeah.”
He doesn’t know what it was.
“Everything is fine.”
It’s just this weird feeling washing over his mind, a voice whispering to him that something is
happening back home. Something… troublesome? Unplanned? Something that, for some
reason, involves him in a weird way?
Did something happen to the hot spring Ryuu had helped to keep away from Chuuya?
Or…
“And I think we can extend our plans.” The wolf ends up saying, pushing away any other
thought crossing his mind.
“Okay…?”
Somehow, he doesn’t feel like going back yet.
Especially not right now.
With Chuuya gone for a week – the redhead having gone on a trip with his uncle – Dazai
spends most of his time either napping under the sakura tree, or lazing around on the roof the
same way he used to do in the past.
Even if the whole house has fallen silent and there are many different places he could choose,
it still is his favourite spot to spend time alone. The breeze is perfect, the sun kissing his skin
leaving a warm tingling behind—
“...”
—and it’s also the spot where he can be found the most easily, should anyone need to speak
to him.
Lying on the warm roof, arms folded behind his head, Dazai lets out a sigh, his eye half–
lidded as he glances up at the newcomer. “What is it, Gin?”
The girl kneels down on one knee near the edge of the roof, her eyes looking somewhere to
the side instead of the kitsune. Her ears and tail are hidden but Dazai can imagine how they
would be lowered right now, hesitant just like the rest of her body.
“...”
Her lips part, then close again, uncertain, while the fox waits patiently—
“Dazai–sama, I…”
—all while a certain scent lingers on her body.
It’s faint, she must have tried hard to wash it away before coming here, but… it’s there. If it
was anyone else, they may have missed it, but Dazai can’t be fooled so easily.
“...”
Unbothered by the long wait, the kitsune looks to the sky as his tails stir lazily. “Is it about
the wolf you’ve been seeing recently?”
He doesn’t need to see it to know Gin’s body freezes, or to know how wide her eyes are. He’s
seen it all before, throughout the centuries he spent looking after the siblings. They’re better
at holding their reactions back now than they used to be when they were only pups.
But it was Dazai, who taught them that.
And so, he will always know.
“...yes.”
He also doesn’t need her to tell him about the wolf. Dazai smelled and recognised it from the
very first day Gin had it on her, quite a while ago.
Even if it’s been centuries since then, the fox isn’t one to forget.
Or forgive.
But even so—
“You don’t need my permission to see someone if you like them, Gin.”
In the past, maybe it would have come to him more difficult, to not only acknowledge but
also accept the fact that one of the siblings associates themselves this closely with someone
who used to be their enemy. Someone who, in Dazai’s mind, still is exactly that.
But now, after having centuries to think about it and after having Chuuya show him so many
different ways to make the most of this life and this world, Dazai understands how
unreasonable it would be.
Very few grudges are worth keeping forever, especially when the results turn out to be more
than the fox could have ever asked for, however unintentionally.
He hasn’t forgotten or forgiven the pain caused to his loved ones, but he has moved on from
that anger.
Chuuya has already moved on—
“Are you sure it isn’t another trap?” he asks.
Dazai himself highly doubts it. Gin isn’t one to be deceived so easily, especially not twice
and not by the same person, and this scent that lingers on her… it isn’t malicious. It’s not
intrusive, or particularly unpleasant – if not for the memories Dazai associates with it, that is.
But a part of him has to ask about it, he has to make sure that the girl knows what she’s doing
and that it won’t end in something they will all regret.
Would he mind tearing the other wolf to pieces? Not at all.
But putting Gin through that after she has clearly gotten attached to her?
It would be cruel.
And Dazai’s cruelty is meant for his enemies, not his family.
“I am.” Gin says, firmer than the fox would expect, and…
Well, then there isn’t anything else for him to say about it.
Gin is old enough to think for herself, she has been for many centuries now, and if that is the
happiness she chooses to keep – so be it.
Turning on his side, Dazai closes his eye again. “I appreciate you telling me.”
Finally, he won’t have to pretend he doesn’t know about it.
“Good luck.”
Gin stays quiet for a moment, staring at the kitsune’s back and tails as she lets his words sink
in, and when they do—
“...thank you, Dazai–sama.”

—the weight is lifted off from her shoulders.
Guilt – finally let go of.
She leaves without another word shortly after that, and when it’s only Dazai again… At first,
everything feels peaceful. Calm, as every other day.
Not a single sound that doesn’t belong in his forest.
Not a single scent, or—
His ear turns backwards, his eye flutters open.
He looks back over his shoulder, scanning the empty roof and the lazily swaying trees all
around the residence and… there’s nothing to be seen there.
Again.
Maybe it’s just the bond he shares with Chuuya, maybe it’s trying to grow back to what it
used to be—
What it should be, but isn’t.
It’s nothing more than a delusion, though. It’s not how these things work.
Maybe it’s his mind giving him hope again. Maybe it’s because of what else he has been up
to in the past few… months? Years? Something like that.
Ah, which reminds him—
He should visit Mori soon.
He still has that to discuss with him.
Chapter End Notes
This chapter exists for the sole purpose of me being able to imagine (and justify) big
fluffy foxzai taking a bath while Chuuya washes his fur ><
3 chapters left!
The Most Perfect Moment
Chapter Notes
On a warm, spring day, too many years to count anymore after their first meeting, Dazai finds
Chuuya working in their garden again – with flowers smiling at him with the dozens of
colours and foxes sleeping on the grass every here and there.
It amazes him how the redhead never gets bored of it, even after all this time. Each year,
Chuuya tends to the garden he planted on his first summer here. Each year, the flowers bloom
under his fingertips.
It’s a sight one of a kind, a sight Dazai can never get enough of.
It suits Chuuya too well, the sunlight on his skin and the radiant colours all around.
Even before, when it wasn’t love just yet and when there were only wild bushes and untended
grass growing around, Dazai’s gaze always followed the weird human around as he worked.
Chuuya, the first ray of colour in the kitsune’s life.
The first ray of light and… the first warmth.
“Chuuya can never sit still anymore, can he?” Stepping out of the house and into the garden,
Dazai slowly walks over to the redhead, some of the foxes looking up briefly before falling
back asleep.
“And you like sitting still too much.” Chuuya huffs at him from the ground, hands dirty from
planting yet another bush he brought back from their latest trip. “Do you need something?”
The comment goes ignored as Dazai steps closer, his gaze looking over all the different
flowers and bushes.
“Other than my husband?” He muses, tails swaying happily behind his back. “No, not
really~”
With a snort, Chuuya stands up to examine his work. “Your husband is busy, I’m afraid.”
“So I can see. He’s working too much when he doesn’t even have to.”
When Dazai’s arms drape over his shoulders and his chin rests on top of Chuuya’s head, his
concentration gets disrupted. He’s been trying to rearrange some of the bushes with his
powers and it’s been going well so far, but obviously not anymore.
The lumps of dirt that have been hovering over the ground until now fall down not exactly
where Chuuya wanted them to. If only Dazai didn’t interrupted him—
“You—I was doing something!”
A hum rings from above his head, Dazai’s arms folding over Chuuya’s chest. “I can see that.”
“Great. So, can you maybe, I don’t know, go away?”
Another low hum, but not a single step back. “No.”
“Yes!”
“No~”
“Why are you—”
“I have a question.”
The sudden drop in Dazai’s voice makes Chuuya halt, a feeling he can’t quite put a finger on
sparking in his chest. It doesn’t sound like anything bad but it does sound serious – more than
Chuuya has heard the fox speak in ages.
Not a tease anymore, while also not a worry just yet.
It’s… weird.
“Okay…?”
But then, the kitsune doesn’t say anything and the silence makes Chuuya wonder if it is
something bad after all. Another enemy, another war among humans, or something that will
end up disturbing their peaceful life.
It’s only when Dazai takes away his arms and the weight of his body leaves Chuuya’s that the
redhead can turn around and look at him.
Dazai’s gaze never leaves Chuuya’s face, his expression unreadable. There’s a weak smile on
his lips, more a habit now rather than a conscious decision, and his eye is dark. There isn’t
anything that gives away what he’s thinking about, not in his expression, or posture, or even
when Chuuya tries to seek him out through the muffled bond.
“Osamu…?”
Bringing his hand to Chuuya’s face, Dazai brushes a loose strand away from falling over the
man’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear. The graze of his nail tickles Chuuya’s skin, his fingers
delicate brushes leaving a burning trail on his neck.
It makes the redhead’s heart begin to race, both with concern and something much stronger.
Much more familiar.
“Is something wro—?”
“Would Chuuya marry me again?”

…ng?
Chuuya’s eyes are blinding looking up at Dazai and he feels too confused to even frown at
the unexpected turn of events. Suddenly, the sounds of the forest quiet down around them, at
least in the redhead’s mind, as his heartbeat becomes all that Chuuya can hear.
“...huh?”
It’s so sudden and unexpected and just… Chuuya doesn’t know how to react, or even what to
think about it.
What does that even mean? To marry him again?
Does Dazai want… a human wedding, now?
Like, an actual ceremony?
But they’re already connected more deeply than any sort of vow could ever compare to, and
Chuuya has long since stopped caring about human customs. Not to mention that it would
mean involving a priest and they have already made a god do the part.
Plus, it’s not like anything happened to their marriage. It’s impossible to break it and neither
of them has ever tried to, or even wished for it.
“I said…” Dazai’s hand is now cupping Chuuya’s cheek. “Would Chuuya marry me again?”
Yeah, okay.
That doesn’t explain anything at all.
“I heard it but— why?”
Dazai tilts his head slightly, his thumb brushing the skin under Chuuya’s eye. “Why not?”
“Because it’s so sudden and—is it even possible?”
The thing is: it’s not sudden.
Not for Dazai.
He’s been thinking about it for many years now – thinking about whether it’s worth bringing
up or not, if it would even work the way he hopes for it to. He had read every passage about
it that he could find, asked both Oda and Mori about it and even then—
No one is actually sure.
But after waiting this long… it’s worth at least trying, isn’t it?
“It won’t cause any harm, even if it doesn’t work.” Dazai says, and it’s met with an even
more confused look from Chuuya.
“That’s good to know, but why…?”
Slowly the kitsune’s hand slides from Chuuya’s cheek to his right hand, bringing it up
between them. The sleeve of his kimono slides up, revealing the faintly white pattern
spiralling around his arm and hand and extending to Dazai’s own.
“To return it to the way it should be.”
Something in the way he says it makes Chuuya’s heart stutter, his breath taken away.
“It grew weaker, back then.”
When it almost broke at a dragon’s hand, and the memory of it sends a cold shiver down
Chuuya’s spine even now. He does, sometimes, think back to that time but the memory of
almost losing their bond is the one the redhead generally tries to avoid thinking about.
It’s one of the more vividly terrifying moments of his life, even now.
The one time he felt genuinely desperate and helpless.
“And when you accepted what was left of Arahabaki’s essence into your soul,” Dazai
continues. “It muffled the bond even more. I can barely hear you anymore.”
Blue eyes widen visibly, Chuuya’s throat suddenly dry and his chest tightening as a shadow
stirs inside his soul.
“More? But… but it’s still me —”
“It is.” Dazai holds his right hand with his own, the white patterns glittering as they meet to
form one whole. “But your soul as it is now… it’s different to that which I married.”
That’s…
//Because I wasn’t there when you got it.//
Why does it feel like Chuuya heard something like that before?
But where? From who?
“So?” One of Dazai’s tails brushing his legs brings Chuuya out of his thoughts. “Will you?”
//Do you want me to want it?//

“I…”
Blinking the confusion away from his mind and focusing on Dazai instead of a distant
memory that feels somewhat amused at his lack of confidence, Chuuya take a deep breath
and—
“Yeah.” He nods weakly, his heart pounding in his chest. “Okay. I will. Why not.”
It’s only then that he remembers a certain detail about why yōkai weddings can’t just happen
out of nowhere like human ones theoretically can. It’s not impossible, of course, but by the
looks of it—
Dazai doesn’t seem like he wants to wait, no.
The crimson flash of his eye and the newfound determination on his face and in his
mannerism make it seem like he wants to fulfil his own request right now. Which is crazy.
Absurd, even.
Not that Chuuya would mind it, he’s grown fond of the absurdity of their life, it’s just—
“But, wait, what about—don’t we need Oda–san to…?”
“Ah.” The fox draws that one sound longer than usual, one of his ears twitching. “He’s been a
bit busy lately.”
Right. Godly duties.
Well, it’s not like they have to do it now—
“So I asked someone else.”
…’asked’?
As in, already?
Did Dazai assume Chuuya would agree even before asking? And how long has he been
planning this, anyway?!
Then, as if having Chuuya accept it has lifted all of Dazai’s worries, the fox’s tone lightens as
he chirps with a too satisfied smirk: “He’ll be here any time~”
“Wha—but you just asked me!”
“And Chuuya said yes~”
“But how would that—”
“It’s quite easy to reach us when needed, Chuuya–kun.” A voice rings right next to them, a
very familiar one. “Gods hear all the prayers, and there’s nowhere we can’t reach.”
With blown eyes, Chuuya turns his head to look at—

“Whether we choose to act on it or not, is another matter, of course.”
—Mori.
Or rather, Chuuya’s kind–of–father–in–law.
Dazai only kept it a secret from him for a few weeks after learning the truth himself and once
he did tell him, Chuuya needed just as much time to process the information. Then, he spent
years coming to terms with the fact that Mori – very much a god – is now his sort–of–maybe
family.
Not only by history and choice, which he would be anyway after everything the god has done
for him and Dazai, but also it the most basic ways – from being Dazai’s father, however
weirdly it works for demons and gods.
And now that very same god is about to marry them.
Chuuya didn’t have the time to prepare for any of this. Not the bonding, and certainly not
meeting Mori out of nowhere. Of course, he doesn’t hate, or even dislike, the man, he just
doesn’t meet with him that often. It’s usually Dazai, who visits him.
Whenever Chuuya does go, it’s mostly to … play with Mori’s subordinates. Their
conversations never run too deeply, even if they aren’t by any means strangers. The redhead
did go after learning about his and Dazai’s connection, to pay his respects and apologise for
not having invited him to the wedding.
Well, to the first wedding anyway.
Because he’s here now, isn’t he? About to do more than simply witness the second one.
“Hi.” Chuuya somehow forces that one word out from the storm of thoughts racing in his
mind. “It’s… good to see you again, Mori–san.”
One of the privileges of being married to a god’s son is being allowed to drop the “–sama”
honorifics, which both makes it both easier to think of the man as his family and annoyingly
difficult to feel normal about it. Like he really shouldn’t be addressing him like that, but Mori
insisted—
“And you, Chuuya–kun.” The god offers him his usual, polite smile. “Are you ready, or do
you need a minute still?”
“I—” He looks from Mori to Dazai, and to Mori again. “Doesn’t it take long to, I mean, to
prepare? Osamu has told me about it literally a minute ago—”
Chuuya bites his tongue, but not fast enough to stop the name from slipping from his lips.
It’s been a while since he started calling Dazai by his name even outside of the bedroom, but
there’s something embarrassing about addressing Dazai like that in front of Mori. It took him
years to get used to the Akutagawa siblings being around when he does so.
With Verlaine, it had Chuuya squirming in place for a long time.
Having a god hear it, though? It’s too much.
Way too much—
“Ah, do not worry about that.” As he says it, Mori’s gaze softens, his smile growing more
genuine as he looks down at Chuuya’s faintly flustered face. “The full spell is only needed
for the first time.”
He reaches inside the sleeve of his kimono, taking out a long, silky, black ribbon.
“This will be enough for a renewal.”
“Is… is that a thing to do?” The redhead asks, glancing at Dazai. “To do it again?”
“It happens.” It’s the kitsune that answers him, shrugging as he keeps Chuuya’s hand in his
own. “Not often, though.”
“There usually is no reason to do it.” Mori explains, coming closer to the two of them, his
expression now more apologetic. “Souls aren’t supposed to change, especially not to this
degree.”
…right.
It happened to Chuuya but it wasn’t actually normal.
He was simply unlucky like that.
Or maybe, in the end, it was luck after all?
He’s here now, long after he should have been gone even without having a dead god placed
inside his chest. Heart. Soul. Both. Whatever.
“Worst case, nothing will change.” Dazai tries to reassure him, his thumb rubbing soothing
circles over his wrist.
“...and best case?”
“Best case, it’ll be like it was at the beginning.”
The small twitch of his lips, the distinctively held–back tone of his voice – there’s something
Dazai wants to say but isn’t. Chuuya can feel it.
He won’t push, especially not with Mori around, but it does make the redhead curious. Dazai
doesn’t keep secrets often and when he does, it’s not actual secrets but more of… surprises.
Confessions or gifts waiting for the right time.
But what else could the fox possibly have in mind even now?
“Okay.” Chuuya nods to himself again, then at Mori. “Um, please and thank you?”
A chuckle. “Of course.”
With that, Mori slowly wraps the black ribbon around their joined arms.
Just like Chuuya remembers, the material seems to stick to their skin on its own. Neither too
warm, or too cold. There’s a faint shine to it as Mori’s fingers slide down it, settling it
perfectly over the white patterns already present on their arms. Just like the first time, the
garden around them brightens up in full bloom, the sky above clear and sunlight dancing
around them as it passes through the leaves and flowers over their heads.
Just like back then—
Chuuya can feel everything when it happens.
The sudden flow of his soul, the sheer force of it that takes his breath away for a second.
The heat. The cold.
But, unlike before, there is also something else.
The faint, tickling feeling around his wrist, almost as if there was… a thread wrapped around
it. The quiet chuckle echoing somewhere in the back of his head, followed by—
//‘I didn’t think you’d come back, you know? Because I don’t love him the way you do.//
//But you will. Eventually.//
—relief.
And… a tingle of happiness that fades before Chuuya can pinpoint where it’s coming from. A
feeling melting into his own, indistinguishable.
The markings on their arms stay white, but as Chuuya’s mind clears he notices how, only
when the light hits it right, the spiral turns black for a second. It glitters the same way it
always does, but now there’s a shadow behind it that makes the shine seem brighter.
And one other difference is—
“Wh…what…”
This time, Chuuya can feel it all.
Not only how Dazai’s soul extends to his own but also how he can reach him in a way he
didn’t think possible. In a way only Dazai could feel from his side, not Chuuya.
The whispers that used to carry not words but emotions flow into his mind, more clear than
ever before, and now Chuuya swears he can hear the voice calling out to him, too.
Confessions and quiet chuckles, actual words ringing in his head without either of them
speaking.
“Congratulations are in place, from what I can see.”
Mori’s soft tone reaches him like through a wall, Chuuya’s mind too occupied with every
sensation it experiences both all over again and for the first time.
The touch on his skin and soul.
The emotions flowing like melodies between them.
The whispers that need no voice to be spoken—
The bond that feels strong.
Stronger than ever and… more complete.
There’s no disturbance in the room, no new sounds that would distract Fukuzawa from the
task in front of him, and yet—
His hand stills.
Then, without looking up from the scroll laying on the table…
“Kunikida.”
The man to his right looks up immediately. “Yes, Fukuzawa–sama?”
“Why don’t you go and see how the new trainees are doing?”
“I…” He’s visibly confused by the sudden request, but a god’s wish is Kunikida’s command.
“Of course.”
It’s only when the spirit steps out and the door closes behind him that Fukuzawa looks up
from the scroll to the empty room, seeing only cats lazing around on the floor every here and
there.
“You seem happy.” He says, just as a man walks from behind his back and around the wide
desk.
Mori hums, arms folded behind his back. “Maybe.”
No further question, Fukuzawa only arches a brow when the other god sits down in front of
him, one arm propped on the table and his chin resting on the heel of his palm. Like this, with
his guard let down and emotions clearly showing on his face, Mori looks like his much
younger self that Fukuzawa remembers. Only… happier.
“I just got back from Osamu–kun’s wedding, you see~”
‘Osamu–kun’?
Wedding?
Didn’t that happen almost four centuries ago?
Fukuzawa’s brows furrow slightly as he lets that sink in, too many questions popping up in
his head, but… When he looks at Mori and sees his smile, perhaps the most genuine one he
has ever seen, he decides maybe he doesn’t have to think much into it.
Instead, Fukuzawa leans back, hiding his arms in the sleeves of his kimono as his eyes soften.
“Do tell me more about it.”
And that’s exactly what Mori does.
His smile – never wavering anymore.
Ever since earlier, Chuuya can’t help the smile that doesn’t leave his lips. He keeps staring at
his hand, feeling the softness of Dazai’s fur on his palm even when he can see that his tails
aren’t there.
It’s the same when he thinks of running his fingers through the kitsune’s hair.
Or touching his cheek.
Or—
“I like it.” A larger hand slides into his own, an actual hand this time. “I like it when Chuuya
does that.”
They’ve been sitting under the sakura tree in their garden ever since Mori left, Dazai’s quiet
purring flowing into Chuuya’s very core in all sorts of ways. His back is pressed to Dazai’s
chest, the fox’s arms around him.
Dazai’s soul all over his own.
In the past, there may have been many snarky comments he could say back and some of them
still push at his lips even now, but…
“I know.” Chuuya says, finding it almost hard to believe his own words. “I can feel it.”
Vividly.
Almost as if Dazai was whispering those feelings to him the entire time, as if his heart was
speaking to Chuuya directly, with nothing to hide or hold back.
It’s so clear.
Yet, nowhere near overwhelming.
Dazai’s soul, his emotions and thoughts – they don’t flood Chuuya’s mind as he would have
expected, they settle down around it as delicately as a blanket. As something that belongs
there, and he can feel his own presence constantly flowing into Dazai, being drawn to it.
After all this time, he never thought he would be allowed to feel the bond this strong
anymore. He never thought he could get back what they lost all those years ago—
Chuuya has never given up on his life.
But with this, he lost hope a long time ago.
He was content with being by Dazai’s side and knowing that, however weak it had become,
the connection between them was still as much alive as they were. That it wasn’t gone, not
really.
But, as it turns out, Dazai didn’t lose that hope.
Or rather – his stubbornness.
Although… Now that the redhead knows about it, he wishes Dazai wouldn’t have waited this
long to ask him. To try again.
“Why did it take you so long?” He asks. “We could have done this ages ago.”
Their life didn’t lack anything but now Chuuya knows it could have been even more than it
was and he can’t help but wonder to all the times he would find himself silently wishing to
feel the bond between them again. LIke he can feel it now.
“I wanted to make sure that it would work the way I wanted it to before asking.”
“But you said you weren’t certain…?”
“Because I wasn’t.” Dazai sighs. “I wanted to make sure of it, but the longer it dragged on…
I got impatient.”
A smirk tugs at Chuuya’s lips because… Yeah, that sounds like his husband.
Always trying to find all the answers before sharing anything with anyone. Always trying to
have a guarantee his plans will work before actually executing them. He’s been like that for
as long as Chuuya knows him.
He did open up to the redhead, but Dazai’s openness isn’t the same as other people’s. For
him, it means sharing his thoughts and feelings whenever he’s asked about it. It means not
hiding behind the many masks when faced with a question from Chuuya.
Speaking up on his own, though…
That’s something they are still working on.
It’s not that Dazai doesn’t trust him, or that he doesn’t want Chuuya to know what he’s
thinking – because he does, very much so. It’s simply not in his nature to act like that. That’s
not his character, shaped by the centuries of walking the earth.
And Chuuya accepts it.
After all, it’s this version of Dazai that he fell in love with, not any other.
He likes the challenge that comes with sharing his life with Dazai, and sometimes he even
likes the hidden messages he finds between the lines. Because at the end of the day, he knows
Dazai will always tell him everything when Chuuya asks him to.
He knows that even if there are unspoken words between them, there are no lies.
Letting out a content sigh, Chuuya leans more on Dazai’s chest.
“Then I wish you had gotten impatient sooner, stupid fox. This is nice.”
A hum.
“Did you also know it would work stronger for me this time?”
“I had a hunch that if it were to work, that would be the case.” Dazai agrees. “But again,
Chuuya’s case is too special. There was no way to know for sure.”
“You could have mentioned that, you know?”
“I didn’t want to give you too much hope, little human.” His arms tighten around Chuuya’s
middle. “In case it wouldn’t work, I didn’t want you to feel like you lost something.”
Well, it’s not like he would actually lose anything.
Logically speaking, it would be like mourning a thing Chuuya has never had, something he
has never experienced. If the spell were not to work, nothing would change. If the bond were
to grow back into what it was, Chuuya would still be more than happy to experience it.
If he knew there was an option for it to be more, though…
Maybe he would have felt a little disappointed, deep down.
“You’re thinking too much, stupid fox.”

When a low hum rings above his head instead of a teasing comment, Chuuya tilts his head to
back and to the side, searching for the kitsune’s eyes but—
Dazai isn’t looking at him.
Not right away.
He does meet his gaze not even a second later, one ear still turned to the side, but it’s already
too late. Chuuya has already seen it, and it’s not the first time he notices it, either.
The redhead’s brows furrow, his voice losing its blissful peace. “What is it?”
“Hm?” Dazai blinks at him, a mock picture of innocence. “What is what?”
But it won’t work anymore. Not when his every trick can be felt through the bond they share.
Not to mention how Chuuya can see one of his ears still turned to the side.
“Don’t play dumb.” He pinches his hand in retaliation. “You’ve been doing that a lot.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking around. As if you’re searching for something.”
Something Chuuya can’t feel. Even with his sharpened senses and general good intuition –
every time he sees Dazai’s ear turn, or the fox staring into empty space, he tries to listen for
something to be there, but…
It’s not there.
No sounds. No scents.
Nothing.
Even now, Chuuya can only tell that something is keeping Dazai’s attention split but he can’t
tell what it is exactly, and it feels like… Like Dazai isn’t trying to hide it, but like he simply
doesn’t know the answer to it, either.
There’s another pause stretching between them.
Another hum.
“Maybe I am.” The fox says eventually. “But I’m not sure what it is.”
“...huh?”
“I can’t see anything more than you can, Chuuya. I’m also not hearing anything.”
Chuuya narrows his eyes at him, knowing through the bond that Dazai is saying the truth.
“Why is your ear doing that, then?”
As on commend, the white ear straightens back up.

“Instinct, I guess?”
“Okay but for what?”
The fox shrugs. “I wish I knew, little human.”
“But—”
However, Chuuya never gets to finish that thought. Before he can ask about anything else,
Dazai’s lips seal his own, warm and soft and their touch sinking in deep into Chuuya’s very
being—
So, he lets it go and kisses Dazai back, feeling the depth of it through the bond.
His hand comes up to tangle in the dark locks, tugging at them playfully when Dazai’s fangs
tease the inside of his lips.
“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?” The redhead asks into the kiss, faintly amused at
the pouty purr he gets in response.
One other thing about Dazai that the kitsune will never grow out of is his pride.
He feels like he has to know all the answers and he hates not being able to offer them when
asked. If there’s anything he isn’t sure about and as long as it’s nothing too important, he will
always choose silence – that way, he won’t have to show what he considers to be his
weakness. His defeat.
It’s stupid, really.
Or so Chuuya thinks.
It’s not like he’s expecting Dazai to have a thorough answer for everything, he’s just one
demon in a world much bigger and much more complicated than either of them. Frankly,
most of the time Chuuya doesn’t even need answers, he’s asking for the sole sake of it.
He’s a curious one, after all.
Perhaps even more than Dazai is.
But he also can’t say he doesn’t find it pleasing when Dazai finds himself without answers
and decides to act like a child about it, hiding away from Chuuya’s questions no matter what.
Or sulking in the corner when he can’t run anymore.
It’s cute, in a way.
Annoying, only sometimes.
But most of all – it makes Dazai who he is, so Chuuya lets it be.
“Okay, okay…” He chuckles into the kiss, turning in his seat. His knees hit the ground on
both sides of Dazai’s hips as Chuuya keeps himself up, leaning down to meet the kitsune’s
lips. “I’ll let you sulk about it.”
Hands come to rest on his waist and Chuuya can feel the roll of Dazai’s eyes without actually
seeing it.
“I’m not sulking.”
“Yes, you are.” When he pulls away, there’s a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Good luck with
trying to hide it now.”
Very much intentionally, Chuuya pours all of his satisfaction into the bond, reminding Dazai
that there is no hiding from him anymore. The kitsune may try, and he probably will at some
point, but like this—
It will be pointless.
His soul melts into Dazai’s, and he can feel the kitsune welcome it without holding back,
everything they feel and think mixing into a new whole.
“You’ve grown accustomed to it rather quickly, dear husband.” Dazai all but pouts,
involuntarily relaxing at the feeling of Chuuya’s soul warming up his own. “Abusing
boundaries already?”
A snort. “There are no boundaries here, husband.”
Not between them.
“And they call me the possessive one.”
“Because you are.” Chuuya shakes his head slightly, brushing away dark strands falling over
Dazai’s face, his smirk growing wicked. “I’m only returning the favour.”
Dazai hums, his gaze falling to Chuuya’s lips.
Then, it’s Chuuya who kisses him first, losing himself in the mixture of his and Dazai’s
emotions that he can’t distinguish from each other anymore. They’re too similar, too equally
as clear and intense in his chest – two flames of the same fire.
Dazai’s longing becomes Chuuya’s desire.
His stubbornness – the redhead’s competitiveness.
Their respective sense of pride are two parts of a whole.
But there’s no rush in them as they savour this feeling together. They stay under the sakura
tree for a long time, living out the same love they vowed to each other many years ago in that
exact same spot.
When Dazai’s flames light up the night around them, Chuuya can see a dash of black flames
in them – and he can see the blue in his own. Barely there, not intrusive but noticeable
enough to spark a newfound warmth washing over the two of them.
Because they aren’t calling upon it on purpose.
It comes to them naturally.
As if even their powers are refusing to remain separate when their wielder are not.
And, as they sit under the Moon’s shine and among the falling, white petals of the sakura
tree, they both find themself thinking the same thing—
There does not exist a moment more perfect than this one.
Chapter End Notes
:')
SO CLOSE
Fate
Chapter Notes
In their world, conflicts don’t happen often.
It’s humans that rage wars on each other, as if they weren’t the ones Death takes away so
easily and so quickly each and every time. It’s them, not demons. Not as often, anyway.
But, every once in a while, some of the demons that have been around for longer than others
gain enough power to feel superior to those around them and let themselves be consumed by
arrogance, seeking recognition of their skill through the most primal of acts – violence.
It’s then that a fight is most likely to break out. It’s simply only by human standard: a demon
against a demon. One on one. As fair as it possibly could be.
In actuality, it’s much more complicated than that.
The more powerful the demons, the more their spells and emotions can seep out into the
world, causing hurricanes and earthquakes, disturbing the minds that don’t know how to
protect themselves from it.
Sometimes, rare as these incidents may be, someone who takes no part in the fight gets hurt.
Badly.
Without fault.
Without a reason for it, other than for someone else’s arrogance and thrill.
Yosano has seen such cases over the centuries and she’s sure she will see many more in the
future.
Just like today.
Bleeding out from cuts made from within by the forces he did not provoke, half–conscious
and half–insane by the time he was crawling at her doorstep, the demon dragged himself to
Yosano’s clinic by sheer willpower. His blood smelt of desperation, his eyes begged for help
– for mercy.
A lower tengu, caught up in the battle of two beings much more dangerous.
Bad luck, nothing more.
Some would admire him for the sole fact that he stayed lucid enough to find the way here,
but Yosano… No matter what she does, the man lying on the futon in front of her doesn’t get
any better.
She can sense his pain, she can hear his heartbeat slowing down by the second. She has
already tried everything to help him, every spell and every medicine known to her. If only she
had treated him sooner. If only it was only his body and not mind as well. If only…
Glancing at the covert standing in the corner, full of different herbs and powders, Yosano
presses her lips into a thin line.
Maybe if she tries again—
“Shit!”
When the too harsh pull of one of the drawers makes all the vials fall to the ground, Yosano
groans to herself, annoyed and displeased with herself. She could just ignore it and clean it up
later but, as luck would have it, she was going to use one of those right now. That one vial is
the whole reason she’s here and not by her patient’s side right now.
Kneeling down, she looks over the many small vial, growing more frustrated with this
situation when—
“It’s already too late.”
Yosano’s body freezes, her heartbeat as slow as the dying tengu’s, feeling just as cold but
with no physical pain behind it.
“He’s going to die no matter what you do.”
Her legs and arms won’t move, her breathing seems to have stopped, her mind can’t think
straight, can’t focus on the life she’s supposed to try to save—
From the corner of her eyes, Yosano sees something dark.
A hem of the black material hovering right above the flood.
There’s no new scent that she could recognise, at least not strong enough to overpower the
stench of blood, no heartbeat of a person standing in front of her and no warmth coming from
them, and yet—
“But I’m sure he appreciates the effort, Akiko.”
–and yet, Yosano knows this voice.
It’s been centuries since she last heard it but there is no way she could ever forget.
Not this voice.
Not her—
Slowly, almost as if she’s afraid to look, Yosano’s eyes travel upwards. The robes she sees are
elegant but simple, silky and plain black, with faintly dark grey patterns around the bottom
and the ends of the sleeves, a stark contrast to pearly skin hiding underneath.
Even the once white flowers painted onto this person’s face are now black, only glittering
with dim light as it hits them.
The red hair that falls down around the shoulders and down to the hips is like fire among the
darkness, flames too violent and mighty to be taken out even by the darkest of shadows.
There’s a small braid trailing right from over their ear down the side of their head and all the
way to their hip, while the rest of it falls freely.
Some of the hair covers their face but—
“Not gonna say anything?”
Even like this, Kouyou’s eyes pierce right through Yosano’s very soul.
“I…”
Yosano isn’t sure if she can say anything. There’s so much going on through her head –
disbelief, confusion, joy. Fear that it’s just a dream.
An illusion.
A cruel trick played by someone who must hate her but—
Yosano doesn’t even notice it when her patient takes his last breath, her mind completely
focused on the person in front of her.
Her body moves on its own, trembling all over as she stands up and stumbles forward.
Anxiety makes it difficult to breathe, fear of not feeling what she sees washing over her like a
cold shower.
Squeezing her eyes shut on one last silent plea, Yosano throws herself at Kouyou, praying to
all the gods and deities that are willing to listen to her that it isn’t a trick, and—
“Oh, my.”
—it’s there, the body that catches her.
It feels real on her skin.
Present.
Soft.
Maybe not warm but… the faint coldness of it only makes it easier to hold onto.
“H…how…” Yosano doesn’t care about how shaky her voice comes out, pressing her face to
Kouyou’s shoulder instead as her arms wrap around her. “You… I saw…”
“What you saw was real, my sweet butterfly.” In turn, Kouyou’s arms circle her, gently
settling on Yosano’s back. “But it turns out Death got too used to having me around.”
There’s a faintly amused note in her voice and, in any other circumstance, Yosano would be
furious at the fact that she’s making light of something like this. Laughing at the tears that
filled Yosano’s lonely night for a long time before drying out.
But right now, she can’t do that.
She can’t be mad when this is everything she has ever asked for. So, she lets out a chuckle
herself, pressing even closer until the most delicate scent of sakura flowers flows into her
lungs.
“So… what?”
There may not be any heartbeat to be felt or heard, but Kouyou is definitely here. With her. In
Yosano’s arms. Maybe not alive, but… not gone.
“You’re a shinigami now?”
The other woman returns the chuckle, brushing her lips on the side of Yosano’s head.
“Something like that, yes. It took me a long time to figure out how to manifest a physical
appearance, though.”
A physical appearance?
A long time…?
“You…” She can’t believe the words that leave her throat. “You’ve been here… how long?”
A hum. “Very long. I was at the wedding—”
Ryuu’s wedding?!
But that was over a century ago and all this time Yosano was—!
“—and ever since, I’ve been around.”
She says it so easily, a flawless voice undisturbed by the same lump that clogs Yosano’s
throat as her eyes fill with tears she was sure she would never spill again. “A… around?”
“I collect the dead, dear Butterfly Queen.” Kouyou whispers. “I follow its trail wherever it
takes me.”
And Yosano is a doctor, she owns a clinic, which means…
But before she can voice her question, unsure of which answer she would prefer, Kouyou
plants a kiss on her forehead, brushing away stray tears that have spilled without Yosano’s
consent.
“But I can take a break and stay for a little longer this time.”
She can… stay.

Here.
“If you’ll have me, of course.”
They have always followed different paths, Yosano and Kouyou.
They weren’t the opposites, both of them seeking to protect that which they deemed worthy
of it. Only, for Kouyou, that was what she viewed as her family. It was those she cared for
that she would fight even Death for – while Yosano swore to save everyone.
It was an oath as much to the gods and Fate as it was to herself.
To save, never to kill.
That is what once tore them apart, leading their paths further and further from each other.
Because Kouyou wouldn’t mind killing those who threatened the village she was protecting,
she held no sympathy for the blood she would spill for a cause she gave herself, and
Yosano… At some point, she couldn’t look away from it anymore.
They never became estranged.
Never broke off what connected them completely.
Yosano would still come to be there for Kouyou whenever the time would come for the
humans carrying her blood to pass away, and Kouyou never declined to supply the herbs and
plants to her clinic. They would still fall onto the same bed every now and then, they would
still know they loved each other.
But there were too many conflicting priorities between them.
Too many differences to make it into something more stable without either of them having to
live with guilt, or with vengeance eating away at their souls.
As those stories love to tell, it was only once they’ve lost it all that they realised how much it
was worth.
And now, Kouyou is the opposite of everything Yosano stands for. Yosano saves lives, she
fights with Death until the last moments and tries to snatch away all and every soul it tries to
claim under her watch.
Kouyou, on the other hand, now steals those souls away from her.
She doesn’t spill the blood, but she calls upon the mark that does it for her.
Yosano dedicated her life to the living, while Kouyou befriended Death to walk together with
it.
And yet—
“Please.” Yosano whispers back, clutching at the black kimono. “Stay.”

—sometimes, it’s the opposites that bring that which is most needed for a heart seeking to
feel whole.
Yosano isn't sure when she drifted away, or why. It could have been due to exertion, having
been on the watch around her patients for a few days straight, but it also could have been due
to relief.
Maybe it was the unbelievable joy at an equally as unbelievable event that tired her out, who
knows?
She doesn't care that much for the answer, though. She’s content with this, lying on her futon
under the soft comforter, Kouyou's body pressed to her own.
It's still bordering on impossible to believe it, all of it, but Yosano doesn't want to question
this happiness. All she wishes to do is savour the moment.
At least until, through the lazy fog of her half–asleep mind, she notices how the arms around
her naked waist slip away and the feeling of another body pressed to hers slowly disappears.
Startled, Yosano's eyes snap open, searching for a familiar figure as she turns to look over her
shoulder in fright—
But when a cascade of red hair falling over alabaster skin is what she sees there, a pair of
bright eyes with black patterns painting the skin around them, Yosano relaxed despite herself.
"Did I wake you up?" Kouyou asks, sitting up on the futon and with a hand coming to stroke
Yosano's tousled hair.
"No..." the other woman sighs, her heart rate calming down again. "I wasn't asleep."
"It seemed like you were, love."
"It was only half–sleep." Yosano murmurs as she watches Kouyou reach for the clothes
discarded on the floor next to the futon. She bites her lip, her heart suddenly feeling heavy.
"Do you have to go already?"
"I'm afraid so." Black material seals Kouyou's body away from Yosano's gaze. "I still have
my responsibilities to take care of."
"..."
Standing up, Kouyou dresses up with ease, all the layers Yosano stripped off earlier now
back. It's only now that Yosano takes a moment longer to take in the sight that her lover is –
how the black material contrasts with what Kouyou has ever been, but also seems to fit her
perfectly.
How it really is her, not even Death being enough to erase the faint, floral scent from her
figure, or the brightness of her eyes and hair.
"Will you be back?" Yosano asks quietly, never looking away from the other woman.
Looking up from tying the obi around her waist, Kouyou offers her a gentle smile. "Of
course, I will."
"...soon?"
A chuckle. "I'll try my best."
Then, as silence stretches through the air, Kouyou looks up from the futon to the room around
them. There aren't many things that Yosano keeps here, save for a drawer or two, where she
keeps her spells and clothes, and...
A kimono she doesn't wear.
And a hair ornament she only reaches for when occasion asks for it.
With a somewhat nostalgic look, Kouyou looks at the two items, knowing with how much
care Yosano treats them as she holds onto the memories. Knowing how much pain they used
to bring her before she found comfort in them again.
"You can take it back if you want." She hears Yosano whisper hesitantly. "They were yours in
the first place."
But true as it may be—
"And now they're yours." Raising her hand, Kouyou makes the golden hair ornament float to
her, settling on her open palm. "You should keep them."
She kneels next to the futon, smiling as she tucks the needle of the ornament right under the
golden butterfly nestled in the messy hair, causing its wings to flutter before stilling again—
"They suit you better than me, my lovely Queen." Kouyou says, bending down to plant one
last kiss on Yosano's forehead.
Yosano may not agree with her on that but she doesn't say it out loud. She doesn't have to, for
Kouyou to read it from her expression as the shinigami leans back and stands up again.
It takes merely a few seconds for them to say their goodbyes yet again.
For now, not forever.
Then, in less than a heartbeat, Kouyou is gone from where Yosano can reach her, but the
spirit doesn't mourn the loss of her lover's touch anymore. Because she knows that even if
Fate split them apart and put them in placed so painfully far apart and different—
Kouyou will come back to her.
She promised, and for Yosano… That's enough.
Another day with Chuuya away, him and Verlaine travelling somewhere up North this time.
Ryuu has gone to run an errand with Atsushi, Gin is supposedly doing the same, only with
her partner, not with her brother. The house stands empty and quiet and Dazai—
He takes a moment to appreciate it.
The peacefulness of it – of being by himself but not alone.
He can feel Chuuya through the bond as if the redhead were right here, with him. Verlaine
must be teasing him about something again because there’s a tingle of embarrassment
vibrating through the bond. When Dazai closes his eyes, he can see the way Chuuya wrinkles
his nose and tries to walk away. He doesn’t know what they’re saying but he doesn’t have to.
No matter the pretence of being angry, Chuuya is having fun with his uncle. He’s fulfilling
the promise he would have fulfilled anyway, even without Adam asking him to.
While Dazai, here, can empty his mind as he listens to everything around him.
He doesn’t do it often, his mind never stops planning and scheming and going over the many
possibilities for many more futures yet to come – be it good or bad ones. That’s how it has
always been, he doesn’t mind it. It’s nothing dangerous anymore, anyway.
Most of the schemes he’s coming up with involve Chuuya. They are made for the redhead, to
keep him busy during this long, long life.
Others may be about what to do with the humans around them growing in numbers and
expanding their territories. How to adapt to a world that seems to be changing at a pace like
never before, every day growing more and more different from previous ones.
A way to tease Ryuu and Gin again.
An excuse to meet up with Odasaku and Ango.
Always something.
But every once in a while, even Dazai seeks a way to just… stop. To let go of the thoughts
and replace them with all and any sounds that surround him at the moment. At least for a
minute.
A second, really.
Any more than that would be too long, leaving him too vulnerable and open for anything
unexpected that may happen, and that’s something Dazai doesn’t allow to happen. Ever.
But right now there is no one else around. Not a single soul.
(Or so Dazai believes.)
The kitsune closes his eyes, the rustle of the garden and the forest around him flooding his
mind as everything else quiets down. The wind whistles in the distance, the birds chirp and
the faraway streams and rivers flow lazily.
It’s quiet, yet he hears it all too clearly when there are no plans and schemes blocking his
way.
A single second passes like this when—
Suddenly, Dazai’s eye snaps open.
There is nothing unusual in front of him. There is no heartbeat ringing apart of his own.
There is no disturbance to the spell around the border of his territory. There is no explanation
he can come up with that would seem even remotely believable, and yet—
A heartbeat, and there’s hesitation.
A heartbeat, and there’s disbelief.
A heartbeat, and there’s hope.
A heartbeat—
Dazai’s features soften, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So it
was you.”
—and there’s relief. Bittersweet as it pours over his heart.
He turns around slowly and when his gaze falls over where the sakura tree watches over their
garden – a figure in black robes and with long, red hair stands there to meet him. A memory
that has lost its colours and warmth but not its shine.
A friend.
Lost, once upon a time.
Kouyou’s lips stretch into an elegant smirk, the light breeze blowing in her hair. “Missed
me?”
Dazai tilts his head, one brow arched high. “Are you asking, or assuming already?”
“Both.” A familiar sparkle of tease dances in her eyes. “Not that I need to.”
“Has someone been peeking? How unbecoming of you, lethal flower.”
Kouyou shakes her head slightly, a small chuckle singing from her lips. A melody Dazai
hasn’t heard in a long time and, unbelievable as it may have been for his past self, has come
to miss over the years.
“I assure you, I wasn’t peeking on anyone when it would have been uncalled for, fox.”
A huff. “I could tell.”
Kind of, at the very least.
“I’ll admit, though.” She says. “I’m surprised you never realised it was me until now.”
Ah, well… Dazai isn’t proud of it himself, now that he can see her. It feels like he lost an
unspoken game between them and even if he didn’t know he was playing it – the jab is there.
His pride has taken a hit, one that Kouyou will not let him live down for a while.
With a sigh, Dazai steps towards her. “This change in occupation you were granted isn’t a
trivial matter. I had no reason to suspect it.”
He stops three steps away from Kouyou, looking at her with curiosity that hides the emotions
that are more true, more genuine – something he doesn’t share with her because he never did
before.
“I thought you would have reincarnated.” The fox points out, offering a drop of honesty out
into the world.
“I thought so myself.” Kouyou agrees. “But Death’s proposal was a luxurious one.”
The same body, even if its warmth and heartbeat are gone, the same mind and the same
memories kept away inside of it – how could she ever decline?
Dazai hums, thinking of all the things he will and won’t say back to that.
“Chuuya will feel betrayed when he learns you came over while he wasn’t here.” He says
instead.
Through the bond, the redhead must have felt the sudden change and the weight of Dazai’s
emotions in the last few minutes, because there’s curiosity in the way his soul reaches out to
Dazai’s – concern, even. It’s easy to soothe those worries away, though, because if one thing
can be said about it, it’s that:
There is nothing to worry about.
All is as it should be.
And better.
Kouyou chuckles at the comment. “I’m sure he’ll forgive me, come enough time.”
Actually, Chuuya will most likely forgive it the moment he sees her and they both know it.
But that will come later, once Chuuya comes back from his time with Verlaine. Maybe he’ll
call it a betrayal on their parts, for knowing and for not telling him right away, but…
For those who live as long as the three of them, a few days mean nothing.
But for Verlaine, any time with Chuuya means everything.
Letting himself relax ever so slightly, the mask sealing away his thoughts as present as ever
but maybe slipping off the tiniest bit that the kitsune allows it to – Dazai’s smirk softens into
a smile.
“Welcome back, Kouyou.”
And just as light as his own voice is, so is hers—
“Thank you.” Kouyou says, honesty for honesty. “But I never left.”
Releasing the souls she has gathered, Kouyou takes a moment to look after them as they walk
away into the world of their rest. To where they can find what they couldn’t grasp in life. This
world is so much like the one out there, but warmer. Kinder and…
Her smile blooms further.
Her heart feels lighter.
Then, as she turns around to gaze upon what she doesn’t dare speak of—
“I take it that you’re ready now?”
“Don’t you find it amazing?” Chuuya asks him one day. “How everything turned out?”
Dazai glances down at the man resting his head on his lap, at the flaming hair sprawled over
his kimono and the clear eyes staring right up at him.
The fox tilts his head, intrigued by the question. “With the lethal flower?”
Almost instantly, Chuuya narrows his eyes at him. “I still haven't forgiven you for not telling
me you could sense her.”
“I told you before: it’s not like I knew it was her.”
He really didn’t. What Dazai sensed, at the wedding and then many times after, was
something weird. A presence that both was and wasn’t there.
Like a shadow.
And, looking back at it, he wasn’t that far off with it.
But he also never would have thought that it was Kouyou. He has never met a shinigami
before – not that he knows of, anyway – he didn’t even know a deceased spirit could simply
become one if Death chose them.
Much like the tales of the oldest gods that reigned before the dragons, there isn’t much being
passed down about the shinigami and Death. ‘Avoid them if you can,’ that’s what everyone
will say, but not much more.
Even if Dazai’s soul is forever connected to that side, Death remains a mystery.
To him, to the gods.
To everyone.
Its secrets are sealed with Kouyou’s lips.
But… as long as she’s here, no one really minds the unknown.
“Yeah, yeah.” The redhead waves the comment off, a small pout blooming on his lips. “Go
on, make up more excuses.”
Dazai’s fangs flash in a smirk as the fox bats his lashes at him. “I thought Chuuya could tell
my truths from lies now. Can he not?”
A huff. “Just because you didn’t know about it doesn’t excuse you knowing about it first.”
“Ah, look which one of us is sulking now~”
In retaliation, Chuuya pinches one of Dazai’s tails, but the gesture is half–hearted at most. He
can’t bring himself to genuinely hold it against the kitsune, or against Kouyou – how could
he, when it’s so much easier to let himself enjoy having her back?
Sure, the faintest tingle of disappointment tugged at his mind when Kouyou said that, while
she can come and go into what Death guards as she pleases, she isn’t allowed to carry
messages. Of any sort.
Not from Chuuya to his family, and not the other way around.
But that’s something Chuuya has long since accepted, and he probably wouldn’t have even
thought about it for a while if Kouyou hadn’t mentioned it herself first.
“But I didn’t mean only that.” Chuuya continues. “Like—isn’t it funny how everything
turned out? You, me being here, her coming back, everything else before…”
Ah. That’s true.
Dazai has thought about it, actually.
Of course, he has.
Because looking at it from the outside, what are the odds that everything would line up this
perfectly for them?
From the moment Dazai attacked Fyodor when they were both young and paid the price with
his ‘life’, to Shibusawa making the impossible come true and finding an ancient god’s
essence scattered around the worlds.
From Chuuya having five blessings, not just one, to keep him whole, to him being kidnapped
and allowing the dead god to flow into his soul. Just enough not to kill him, and barely
enough to extend his life into that of a demon.
From Dazai being born as a god’s wish, to him serving under Mori’s command out of
necessity and getting to know the god that would one day save the love of his life.
From them meeting by accident, to Chuuya choosing to stay.
Every step of their lives has led them here, and if it was any different from the path they
took… Maybe they would have never met.
Never fell in love.
Never be allowed to spend eternity together.
And, yet, here they are.
“There is an old saying, among yōkai.”
Involuntarily, Dazai’s lips twitch. His hand rests on Chuuya’s head, his eyes following a pair
of foxes running around the garden as he tells a line spoken many times over without anyone
actually remembering where it came from.
“Fate is like a cat. Unpredictable, but always with a plan.”
Chapter End Notes
Did I make up that saying to make my cameo (my name is Cat btw), or is it about
Natsume from bsd?
I will never tell~
ANYWAY, the last chapter is going to be the epilogue and it will be posted on the 12th
of November (for me) because that day is the 1 year anniversary of when I started
writing this story on Twitter :')
Alsooo, you may have noticed but I made a series "As the Petals Fall Verse" with this fic
being the first part (see above). Any extras + the alternative ending I'll be posting later
will be posted to it so that's it's all in the same place.
See you at the end, everyone!

Epilogue
Chapter Notes
—few centuries later: modern times—
Seasons passed. Years flew by.
The world changed.
Nothing is the way Chuuya once knew it to be but…
"Should I get it?" The redhead asks, tilting his head to the other side yet again as they both
stand in front of the pile of books put on display in the bookstore. "It's his first work under a
new name. He'll need support until he makes it big again, won't he?"
Standing next to the redhead, with his hands hidden in the pockets of a long, black coat that
they got him recently, Dazai arches a questioning brow. "Hasn't Ranpo spoiled you the ending
of the full series already?"
"No, not yet.” Though he would probably like to. “I've been avoiding him for that exact
reason."
It's a repetitive cycle, really.
Ranpo, ‘doomed’ to eternity by his own free will, complaining about how he's bored all the
time and Poe, the ever helpful partner that Ranpo somehow found only after dying, writing
him books upon books to keep him busy. It's cute, if Chuuya may say so, and they both seem
to enjoy their little tradition a lot, too.
Somewhere along the line it also became a competition between the two – or at least
something Poe self–proclaimed as competition.
At first, the books were of adventures and the like, but Ranpo always found it easy to predict
the ending before even Poe himself came up with it, which made him want to exceed the
expectations at any cost. His writing fell into mystery and crime, into plot twists woven
between the lines – and it stayed that ever since.
Now, since he already writes these stories anyway, he's also publishing them under a pen
name into the human world. He has to switch the name every few decades, obviously, but it
never takes him long to regain the popularity that he gains among humans.
His newest piece – The Book – is the first of the trilogy he apparently has planned and it's
been proclaimed a story of questions and answers that fail to catch up to the chase, a mystery
of tangled plot lines that seem to move as if they had a will of their own.
Whether Ranpo knows the ending to it already or not, Chuuya does know and he doesn't
intend to find out. He likes Poe's books and likes to look forward to what happens next
without the ghost spoiling everything before Chuuya even picks up the book for the first
time.
Ranpo, on the other hand, loves doing exactly that, and not everyone can escape him.
Yosano once said that getting Ranpo a laptop with speech recognition was her greatest
achievement for her own peace and the worst curse for humans online. Especially ever since
Ranpo somehow taught Karl to press the right buttons when necessary, the online fandom of
Poe’s stories have been in much, much pain.
How the Internet works from Yosano’s clinic and how the device detects a ghost’s voice –
that’s a true mystery yet to be solved.
"Then buy it." Dazai sighs, looking around the store. "Or not. But decide quickly, there are
too many people around for my liking."
Chuuya snorts and takes one of the books from the display, then nudges the kitsune towards
the till. "You didn't have to tag along."
"Wasn't Chuuya the one who told me not to look over Gin's shoulder when she gets ready to
meet with her partner?"
"I also said you have no right to complain about the city if you choose to come with me. So
stop it already."
"But Chuuya~"
"Stop it, or we're skipping grocery shopping at the fish market altogether and you’re not
getting your crab."
Clap!
Clap!
The stream carries silence with itself as it escapes the earth from between the rocks, where a
spring births its waters. It's a stream narrow and weak enough to be easily missed if one
doesn't look closely, only much later growing into a river that runs between the hills to meet
the sea awaiting it.
But the small shrine built above it marks the place for everyone to see.
It's a shrine that wasn't put up by any of the human hands, a shrine without a single name
engraved into the stones or wooden panels that elevate it. No name, because there is no god
to listen to the prayers whispered over the crystal clear water—
Yet, Fyodor continues to offer his thanks here.
Before the shrine he built with his own two hands, for a god forgotten by humankind and the
world.
The small spring wasn't always here. It broke through the cold stones of Northern forests a
long time after Fyodor and the rest of them had settled around the area. Whether it was a
mere natural occurrence or a sign from a force that has grown merciful — Fyodor will never
know. He doesn't seek the answer.
He built this shrine because his heart told him to. He continues to come here and talk about
how idle his life has become because it offers him peace. Because even if no voice answers
him and no ear listens to his words — in his heart, the one he's talking to appreciates those
endless stories.
(A boy runs through the forest with everything he’s got.)
Someone's chin suddenly falls to Fyodor's shoulder, the fur of a cat's ear tickling the fox's
face. "Are you done now~?"
Inhaling deeply, Fyodor cuts the story he's been telling in his mind short, promising to finish
it another time. His eyes flutter open, hands falling down to his lap as he turns his head to
glance at Nikolai.
"Restless again?"
"More like bored~" The bakeneko muses, falling down to lie on the grass with his upper body
draped over Fyodor's lap and his long, white tail swaying impatiently above the ground.
"Everyone has gone somewhere!"
(His hair sticks to his forehead, his breathing heavy.)
"Saigiku–kun and Tetchou–kun went on another one of their dates, helping with some war
this time. They'll have fun without me!”
How very... romantic of them.
"Let them get some steam off." Fyodor sighs. "They've been putting off the wedding for a
while specifically for this."
"But even Teruko–chan took Michizou–kun with her!" Nikolai half–muses and half–
complains. "Even though she has that other girl to play with!"
Ah, so she did it again.

Somehow, Fyodor isn't sure if he should feel sorry for Tachihara, or be happy for him, and
the wolf is always too conflicted about it himself to give a proper answer.
"You knew it would happen." The kitsune reminds him. "It's always like that on this day."
(He’s never been here before but he knows the way.)
"Would you rather not be here today?" Fyodor asks, even though he knows the answer.
Nikolai's ears straighten up, his voice falling into an involuntary hiss. "Of course, I have to be
here!"
It makes the fox chuckle lightly, one of his ears turning to the side as it listens to the silence
of the forest.
"But I'm still bored!" The cat whines again, rolling onto his back. "It always takes so much
time!"
"That's what we agreed on."
The cat purses his lips. "I think we should change that agreement."
"And I think you're overreacting again." Fyodor flickers Nikolai's forehead, then he gets up
from the grass and brushes off his clothes. "Come on, we should go." It’s earlier than he
thought it would happen but there’s not a single fibre of him that doesn’t appreciate the
surprise.
"But I just got here!"
"You could have waited at home if you weren’t this impatient.”
(He knows it because—)
"All I'm saying is that we could make it easier for him." Nikolai continues his argument as
they walk back, the bakeneko skipping steps and circling the trees as if he were dancing with
them.
Fyodor raises a brow at him. "You don't have to convince me."
"But if you back me up on this, it'll go easier."
A chuckle. "I don't take sides, Nikolai."
They step out of the forest at the same time the bushes near the house part and a sound of
heaving breathing and the blood rushing through a mortal body fills the air. Both of their
heads turn towards the newcomer, two pairs of eyes softening as they come back to life after
years of being frozen in wait.
Fyodor stands where he is, taking in the sight until his chest feels fuzzy, while Nikolai all but
leaps forward with a wide grin, mischief sparkling in the one eye that remains open to the
world.
(—it always leads him back home.)
"Welcome home, Sigma~"
"Come to think of it..." Chuuya trails off once they step out of the bookstore and start walking
towards one of the less crowded streets around the area. "Am I going insane or were there
two scents on her the last time she got back?"
A smirk tugs at Dazai's lips when the fox hears the question, his voice dripping with tease.
"Oh? Look who is looking over her shoulder now~"
"I'm not." Chuuya rolls his eyes. "I'm just asking."
"Mhm~"
"I'm not!"
"Well..." Dazai chuckles lightly, reaching out for Chuuya’s hand. "This time, you're fully
sane, dear husband. The other scent was another wolf demon, the one that I..." Intent crimson
flashes in his eye at the memory. "... politely asked for the secret to getting through the
barrier~"
Ah... Chuuya heard that story.
Sometimes, though not often, he finds himself feeling sorry for that wolf – but again, only
sometimes.
"Has he come back to work for Mori–san at all?"
"He takes up occasional jobs from what I know.” Dazai says. “But he was told to avoid being
around when either of us is there."
With Dazai, that's a reasonable precaution.
With Chuuya... The redhead doubts he would do anything to the wolf.
Not only because he wasn't directly connected to what happened and because it was almost a
thousand years ago, but also because Chuuya doesn't want to risk making Gin sad for no
reason at all – or worse, making her angry.
It’s not worth it.

"If it ever comes to a wedding for her, too." Chuuya points out, elbowing Dazai as they walk.
"You better behave."
"Don't I always~"
A scoff. "Fuck no."
An amused chuckle rings from the kitsune, the shadows of his tails and ears faintly
manifesting before they disappear again. No one seems to notice it, save for one person who
binks at them and then cleans their glasses but neither of them pays the stranger any mind.
People nowadays are too busy with themselves to notice something so subtle and brief like a
shadow of something that isn’t there for them to see. If anyone ever does notice, they blame it
on a play of light, or on being too tired.
Occasionally, Dazai shows his fox features on purpose, just to play with thor minds and have
them question their sanity.
However, around here, a much more common urban legend is that of a man flying across the
night sky every now and then – a story born from all the times Chuuya got a craving for a
specific type of snack and felt like getting some fresh air instead of using a spell.
"More than me I think it would be Ryuu, who would need restraints." The fox chirps with
satisfaction and, annoying as it is, Chuuya knows that's true.
He also knows Dazai wouldn’t be ordering Ryuu to be on his best behaviour because he'll
want to cause chaos for the sake of it and the wolf, a loving brother that he may be, will not
hesitate before acting. He takes after Dazai a lot in that sense.
All hope lies with Atsushi, should it ever come down to it.
"That's your fault, too." Chuuya tries to elbow him again but, this time, Dazai easily steps
away from it, smirking at the redhead, who shoots him a glare.
"I have no idea what Chuuya means~"
“Why are you home?!” The girl shouts through the closed door of their bedroom. “You can’t
be seeing me until—”
“Until tomorrow’s ceremony.” A lower voice finishes for her from the other side. “I know. I
just forgot something.”
“...did you see?”

“Huh?”
“I said…'' The girl takes a deep breath, her hand resting on the wooden surface of the door.
“Did you see? Me? Just now?”
There’s silence for a second, then a snort that makes the girl narrows her eyes and her fingers
itch to push the handle when—
“Don’t worry, I didn’t.”
There’s some shuffling, then steps coming closer and… Neither of them can see it, but their
palms rest on the door together, pressed to the same spot even if separated by the door.
“But I know you’ll be the most beautiful bride ever.”
(She was. She is. She will be.)
“—and then his brother caught the bouquet and then his girlfriend pulled out a ring and
proposed to him. Isn't that the cutest?"
It’s been a few days since then already but it’s still fresh in their memories.
"I've never seen him cry this ugly." The man admits.
"Yeah, me neither." The woman giggles next to her husband. "I bet he'll look even uglier at
his wedding, though."
A sigh. "Thta's basically a given at this point."
There is no third person with the newlyweds, only an old, old hut that was turned into a
shrine over the centuries. A home to a god, whose name hasn't been passed down in history
and, therefore, isn't known to them anymore — but a god that is said to have been looking
over this city since its very origins. A protector that fought against the great demon inhabiting
these woods and won, saving the people from the vicious spirit.
(Or so the legend says.)
"You're going to cry over it, too, dear husband. Don't even try to pretend otherwise."
The man scratches the back of his head, laughing playfully without trying to deny it. "He
cried at ours, didn't he? It's only fair."
A huff. "Excuses."
Then...
The woman claps her hands happily, a bright smile stretching her lips as she looks back at the
old shrine. "Anyway, we're off to our honeymoon so, you know, keep our home safe for us
and all of that."
"Not for free, of course." The man adds, taking out a bottle of wine out of his backpack and
placing it at the altar, among the wild flowers growing on it. "This isn't bribe but—"
"We'll appreciate it." His wife finishes for him.
The truth is, not many people visit the shrine anymore and even fewer leave any sort of
offerings.
Some of them say the god doesn't live here anymore, others say he was never a god to begin
with but a demon just as vicious and spiteful as the one the legend says he had defeated.
There are also those who say there was no god and no demon — only a boy, who protected
the people of his village from afar.
But to the newlyweds, it doesn't matter which version of the legend is the truth.
To them, this small, rundown shrine and the hut behind it that looks like it might have been
someone’s house once upon a time, is an important place. It's where they met for the first
time, both of them losing their way back home after playing around as children and ending
up here instead, and where they promised to marry.
To them this god or whoever else it is — it's a friend.
(From their first life and into every single one that follows.)
"We'll stop by to tell you more stories once we're back~"
Just like that, with voices of pure happiness and their hands intertwined, golden wedding
rings marking the promise they have vowed, the wife and the husband walk away from the
small hut–shrine.
Their hair, pink and silver, blows in the gentle breeze as they walk together, shining under the
warm sun that looks over the living.
"Just so you know, if you try to add peaches to the stew, I'm never making crab for you ever
again."
They're walking hand in hand, a bag with Poe's new book and a bottle of red wine inside
thrown over Chuuya's shoulder, while Dazai holds onto their groceries.
The forest around is quiet but the distant sounds of a big city reach them even here. There are
foxes sniffing at their legs, the little animals all too interested in what the kitsune is carrying,
but Dazai keeps the bag out of their reach.
A sigh. "Chuuya's palette is truly poor..."

"No, it's yours palette that's fucked up."
"Odasaku thought it was an interesting combination, though~"
An involuntary shiver runs down Chuuya's spine at the memory of that meal they had
together. "Your weird god friend doesn't count. Ango almost collapsed from the smell alone."
That was a meal they had together in celebration of Oda becoming a more known god and
having one of the biggest temples in the prefecture built for him by humans. Chuuya said he
didn't mind cooking and Dazai, which should have been suspicious on its own, offered to
help.
That wasn't the last time the redhead allowed him to cook but it was the last time he looked
away while Dazai was at it. Trust can only run so deep.
"I'm helping him to stay strong~"
"No, you're making Yosano work more." Chuuya corrects him.
"Better her than the lethal flower, no?"
They pass by the small, old statue of a fox hidden among the grass as Chuuya scrunches his
nose in response. "She's been busy enough as it is, leave her alone for now."
The world isn't what it used to be – there are humans in every corner of it, many of them, and
they aren't completely separate societies anymore. They're a whole spread around the globe,
cultures seeping one into another, their histories threaded together. There are now rules that
the governments enforce and that people, most of the time, follow – but it doesn't mean it's all
peaceful.
Whenever bigger conflicts break out, or when they're too close for comfort, Dazai either puts
a more powerful spell around their house that seals the entire forest away from humans and
makes them unwilling to get anywhere close to it, or...
Or they both go on 'vacation' to Mori's palace.
The god is still very much alive and well, even if he has fewer followers now as the younger
generation of gods is being worshipped more than the older ones nowadays. He always
welcomes them with open arms, while his subordinates... They've gotten used to the training
sessions by now. At least most of them.
At those times, Ryuu tends to do the same but instead of Mori's place, he stays with Atsushi
and the tiger’s god, who doesn’t seem to mind him being there at all. Gin goes to either or,
especially more recently, he goes somewhere else to wait out the storms that have fallen over
the human world.
With her partner.
…partners?
Well, that’s not important.
The only one of all of them that cannot escape the wars is Kouyou and, for the past two
hundred years or so, she's been especially busy all around. She doesn't need Dazai adding
even more souls to her already long list.
"But stop trying to distract me. You are not putting peaches in my dish —mngh!”
Dazai’s lips steal his words away when the kitsune bends town to kiss him, and Chuuya rolls
his eyes and pokes his soul through the bond at yet another obvious distraction from the
topics.
“You’re doing it in front of the kids again.” He mutters when Dazia leans slightly back, a
smirk plastered on his face as a pair of white ears become visible under the cover of the trees.
“They’ve seen worse~”
Chuuya groans at the reminder but doesn’t push Dazai away when the fox kisses him again,
two soft tails pulling him closer.
He’s always like this when they get back, spouting nonsense about all the human scents
sticking to Chuuya after each visit to the city – which isn’t true at all. He’s not the only one
with sensitive senses and Chuuya knows there is nothing of the sort lingering on his body and
clothes.
But he doesn’t mind it when Dazai gets like this.
Ever so often, it’s healthy to make the fox just a little bit jealous.
It makes things more interesting, keeps them from falling into a routine that would become
mundane. Plus, the kisses is something Chuuya has grown the most appreciative of.
They hold both the intimacy of the nights they spend naked and the ease of lazy mornings.
They’re the confessions that don’t require words, or the burning heat of desire, to reach deep
into every corner of their bodies.
They’re greetings and goodbyes.
They’re jokes and distractions and games and, sometimes, apologies.
Chuuya loves them for every message they convey, and he knows Dazai is the same.
Every Thursday, while on a lunch break from work, Verlaine visits a small cafe two streets
away. It's small and not well known outside of the neighbourhood but he finds himself
coming back to it every week. Sometimes even twice a week if he can spare more time.
"Welcome back." The same barista as ever calls out to him just as the man steps inside.
"What can I get you today?"
Verlaine offers the man a soft smile before looking up at the menu he has memorised. “Could
I please have—”
“Yo! Paul–sensei!”
It's been a hassle to find a job that wouldn't endanger those around him but, as the world
progressed and cars and trains became a thing, it became possible. As a lecturer, he only has
to come in twice a week, three times only when they ask him to take over a class when
another professor is absent — all while he can comfortably live far from here.
Verlaine’s eye twitches as his words are cut off. He turns his head to the side, looking at the
group of six boys standing around one of the tables.
“It’s ‘Verlaine –sensei’, young man.”
“Whatever~” The boy with an explosion of blond hair and sunglasses low on his nose
answers. “Will you tell us the question for the exam if I buy you a drink~?”
He can already feel the incoming headache and, by the looks of it, the other five boys seem to
share his opinion on their friend's offer.
"No, I will not." Verlaine sighs. "And bribery is illegal."
"Come one~" The same ball chirps. "No one has to know~"
Another one of them giggles at that, white accents threading black hair. "Is that why you're
proposing it in a public space?"
"I told you." A boy with a bob cut says. "His sanity cannot be saved anymore."
The first one sticks out his tongue at the comment. "You don't have the qualifications to
decide that, though~"
"None of us need the qualification to know you're babbling like an annoying bird." A tall boy
with an eyepatch mutters under his breath.
"My med course is longer than your engineering and I'll still be graduating before you."
"Hey!"
“Stop it.” Another boy, with short dark hair and features slightly different to the rest of them,
grabs his collar and drags the other out of the cafe as the rest of them chuckle at the childish
protests.
"See you on Monday, Paul–sensei!" The rest of them call out as they all walk out of the cafe.
"It's Verlaine–sensei!"
With a sigh, Verlaine turns back to the barista – to the long, dark hair falling around the man's
shoulders and golden eyes patiently staring at him from above a kind smile.
“Brats, am I right?”
Every Thursday, Verlaine visits the same cafe.
Until one time, he visits there twice in one day.
His last lecture finished early and he's on his way there already. He'll be earlier than planned
but he doesn't mind waiting for—
But then, a crate of flowers falls right in front of him, probably having sled from the display
of the flower shop he's passing by. It’s the first time he notices it – has it opened recently?
"Oh! Sorry!" A short woman runs up to him quickly and bends down to pick up the crate
with ease despite how heavy it looks. "Are you okay?"
For a second, Verlaine is too surprised to speak.
Not because of the crate but because... she looks familiar, somehow. Her hair and eyes are
dark, a common feature of people in this country, but there's something about her face and
voice, something so kind and welcoming, that rings a bell in the back of his head. A bell he
never knew well enough to recognise and never truly paid much attention to – and it passes
just as quickly when the man shakes himself out of it.
"I—it's fine. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" The woman asks. "I still feel bad about it, though. Would you like a bouquet
as an apology? Free of charge, of course!"
Verlaine blinks at her, then looks up at the store's sign – a bright NAKAHANA name written
right above the woman's head.
"...a bouquet?"
"Yep!" Without waiting for his answer, the woman already starts looking around the flowers
that are on display, picking out some of them. "I can do it for any occasion, any message. I
even know how to say 'fuck off' in flower language, isn’t that cool?"
Oh, okay.
She's undeniably kind but also just as straightforward, isn't she?
"Um..." She looks at Verlaine over her shoulder, smirking at him knowingly. "But you look
like you're going on a date, so I guess not today, huh?"
"...I look like it?"

The woman hums as she goes back to picking out the right flowers. "Yep! And my intuition
is never wrong. You can ask my girlfriend."
Kind. Straightforward. And open.
Almost overly.
Although... Verlaine doesn't seem to mind.
It's a combination that feels somewhat familiar, something he’s already used to by now. The
woman has that shine about her that feels so similar to—
Ah, nevermind.
He accepts the bouquet with a polite smile and a shy 'thank you' but just as he's about to turn
around and walk towards the cafe where his date is about to finish his shift, the man looks at
her one last time and—
"The name, Nakahana, do you mind if I ask where it came from?"
"Huh? Oh!" The woman chuckles at the question, waving her hand at Verlaine in a goodbye .
"That's my family name."
…huh.
Interesting.
“I can’t believe humans find that kind of clothing comfortable.”
Dazai’s faintly annoyed voice makes Chuuya’s lips curl with amusement before the redhead
even opens his eyes to look at the kitsune. He doesn’t need to look to see the displeased
expression on Dazai’s face and the sun gently hitting his skin through the leaves and flowers
swaying high above their heads is too relaxing of a feeling to let go of it just yet.
“Stop complaining.” Chuuya huffs not for the first and not for the last time today, arms
crossed behind his head and fresh grass pleasantly chill under his back. “You've changed
already.”
It’s the first thing Dazai did the moment they got back home from their trip to the nearby city:
change clothes. Because even if the fox has grown fond of the inventions of the human world
in the past few centuries – a hairdryer being one of those – human fashion seems to be the
one aspect he fails to appreciate.
Every time they meet with Verlaine, or just go out to explore the current times, he has to
complain the moment Chuuya gives him the outfit he’s picked out for the day.
Which is a pity, truly. Because while the traditional kimono he always wears at home has a
special place in Chuuya’s heart, seeing Dazai in sleek trousers and a black turtleneck,
especially with his ears and tails still visible, is a treat for his eyes.
The fox knows it, too. It may be one of the few, or even the only reason as to why he agrees
to change every time Chuuya asks him to.
Granted, the redhead also changed into his usual clothes before going out to the garden but
it’s purely a matter of convenience for him. Like this, wearing one of his oldest kimonos
made by spirits, he doesn’t have to worry about the material getting dirty too easily.
Human made clothes he bought in the city, however, require more regular washing and that’s
just annoying.
“You should be grateful, I could have made you wear a suit.” The redhead teases, opening
one eye to see Dazai tower over him, his tails casting long shadows around them.
He’s done it before, mostly to see how the kitsune would look, and… If not for the face he
was making the entire time, it looked great.
Maybe he’ll make Dazai wear it more often.
“No, thank you.” Dazai quickly answers. “I’ll leave that to your uncle.”
With a small huff, Chuuya closes his eyes again and listens to the calming sounds of the
world that surrounds him. The quiet rustling of the grass and Dazai’s clothes as the kitsune
walks around him and leans on the sakura tree. The foxes playing in the distance and the
birds singing above them.
He can hear one of the pups waking up from its nap with a yawn and coming to Chuuya’s
side, curling into a ball of red fur next to his hip and falling asleep again.
One of Dazai’s tails lingers around his ankle but the kitsune stays silent otherwise.
They both have grown used to silence over the years. There’s only so much one can talk
about with a person they have spent centuries with, but… even when there are no words
spoken between them, Chuuya loves it.
That silence, it’s just as satisfying as the conversations they share. As the words murmured
into the night.
It makes Chuuya’s mind feel at ease, especially after walking around the crowds of
Yokohama, and Dazai…
He never truly understands why visiting humans’ too populated cities makes Chuuya’s eyes
light up.
Maybe it’s because the world has been changing at a surprisingly fast pace in recent years
and there is always something new to see there. Maybe it’s because it brings out Chuuya’s
human nature out of the depths of his heart and soul. Or maybe it’s merely an excuse to dress
him up in those clothes the redhead finds somehow appealing.
Dazai isn’t sure.
He doesn’t need to be.
Even if he doesn’t care for the cities growing around them – if it brings a smile to Chuuya’s
face, he’ll go along with it.
For the past few centuries, he’s seen many of his smiles and he’s yet to grow bored of them.
He’s seen Chuuya laugh at and get confused with the new inventions. He’s seen him cry
through the nights when the memories of his lost one would haunt his heart.
Sometimes, the redhead looks almost bored with this endless circle of an eternal life. Other
times, his eyes sparkle with the never–ending curiosity burning in his chest.
And other times…
“Say, little human.”
Chuuya hums in response, eyes blissfully closed as Dazai’s gaze falls on him – on the auburn
hair contrasting with the green around it. Like a fire halo around his head, or silky blood.
On the clothes Dazai once gave him.
On the small fox sleeping next to the man he loves.
It’s a familiar sight, almost too close to what Dazai remembers, and yet – it’s different.
“Was it worth it?”
The question echoes somewhere deep in Chuuya’s soul, stirring the side of him that stays
asleep more often than not. It’s a vague question but, somehow, he understands, and it makes
him think back, makes him remember.
The days long and hard, the pain of his heart and blood spilling from his body.
The fire slowly awakening in his chest and the happiness falling into shattered pieces.
Tears shed.
Friends lost.
The family gone and… the one gained.
He’s made mistakes, over and over again, but there were also choices that Chuuya knows
were right, paths he would have taken no matter what—
Love he would have sought no matter the pain and loss.
In every lifetime.
In every universe.
Because flowers may wither and seasons may change as the world changes around them, but
if there is one thing that remains true forever, it’s that—
“It was.”
—As the Petals Fall, he continues to walk this path together with Dazai because that is what
he has always wished for and loved the most.
Chapter End Notes
(note 1: that woman was a reincarnation of Chuuya's mom

note 2: if you read the last scene of chapter 2, you'll notice something nice~)
WE ARE HERE, MY FRIENDS
It's been exactly 12 months since I first started posting the story on twitter and exactly
11 months since it started on ao3. Honestly, it's been such an emotional ride for me and
I'm beyond grateful that I could share it with all of you! I actually finished it a few
months back BUT I've been adding A LOT of content as compared to the twt thread and
it kept me going, honestly :')
Now that it's REALLY finished, I'm emotional and baffled and it's so weird of a feeling
but... I'm also super happy.
Thank you all SO much for the support you've shown to this story and thank you
infinitely for getting this far, no matter if you've been here since the beginning or if you
binged it or came over anywhere along the line. It meant and still means a lot to me!
Ofc, the main story is finished but there WILL be extras coming out because I love my
yokai boys too much to let go. They will be posted to the series this story is Part 1 of, so
look forward to that!
The alternative ending will come out in the coming months!
In the meantime, LOOK AT ALL THE BEAUTIFUL ART PEOPLE HAVE GIFTED
ME AND MADE ME CRY: Twitter link to the Moment with all the art
Once again, thank you all SO much!

I'll have more content and more AUs coming out soon that I've been working on for a
while now but today I'm celebrating this huge milestone ^^
End Notes
Thank you for reading~
You can find me on my Twitter (@Black00cat1) where I post some shorter stories and HCs,
and maybe some additional content to different AUs :3
I’m always happy to interact with readers and you can also ask me questions anonymously
here: CuriousCat
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!

As The Petals Fall

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Rumours

“You always do it here anyway, just keep it with you until--”

“Chuu-- Ugh , Yuan, a little help here, please ?”

Clearly, her plan failed.

Just what is going on?

What is Chuuya missing?

Yeah, Chuuya remembers them.

“Why would anyone care about them?”

His family thinks of him as a criminal ?

He can get some comfort in all of this.

Maybe the rumours will stop eventually.

“...that you’re a bad omen .”

He just wants to live in peace .

What the fuck?

“Who the hell ar--”

“Fuck off.” The redhead growls at the man.

One more pet name and Chuuya will become a murderer.

With no regrets. He’ll be doing the world a favour.

“...demon’s gold will make you more pliant, brat…”

What did he just say?

One argument isn't enough to write off years of friendship.

"No. I've never seen him before."

"One of the travellers ?"

"Did anyone see him coming here? Did he go back?"

"I just wanted to--"

"Are you okay?" His friend continues. "Did he do anything?"

Yeah. He remembers very well.

Unsuccessfully, but it is funny every time.

And only a little awkward.

"Want me to tell Yuan you said that?"

--before it stops and his face goes pale .

She didn't believe in it and decided she didn't want it.

Yuan believed him.

Now he just needs to not mess it up.

Well, it's not his friend's fault.

They just wanted to help .

"Actually, they're supposed to be leaving tomorrow morning."

"And you couldn't tell me that tomorrow?"

That makes Chuuya smile as well because--

Yes, he really wants to get out and see the village.

"I know." Or at least that's what Chuuya believes. "But thanks."

...although now, he really needs to spend some time with people.

He can notice things he didn't before.

But now he sees it.

And Chuuya can't do anything about it.

It's frustrating, but he can be patient, he can wait.

He simply doesn't want to be alone forever .

"Ah, hello boy."

"Are you feeling better now?"

Did they hurt anyone? Did they try something inappropriate --

"Are you okay?"

Which is sweet, they all know it, however…

" And I'm not an idiot, come on!"

"Sure." Chuuya teases.

"But it worked !"

He's seen them go through so much.

But would life actually allow the redhead this chance?

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for reading~

It’s not perfect, considering the rumours, but it can be.

But for now, it’s enough .

Oh, he’s bleeding .

The travellers didn’t leave after all.