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“What a very nice friend you have,” Dazai says as he considers the scenario in front of him. “Someone who wishes to both save you and kill you.”
“Isn’t that right?” Fyodor smiles at him thinly, the demon’s masquerade still firmly in place. An utterly relaxed pose, even if he’s just been issued a death threat by someone claiming to be his best friend. “However, why do I have the feeling that you’re very much excited for the second option, Dazai-kun?”
“Isn’t it because I wish you dead?”
“Are you trying to appeal to my friend’s support?” A tilt of the head. It doesn’t fully detract from his observation of the other’s movements, one infinitesimal step towards their two ‘rescuers’. “Even if you opine on how much you wish me dead, I’m afraid he wouldn’t want to help you with your endeavor, Dazai-kun.”
The only entrance and exit to this room is blocked by the two newcomers. Escaping from this place means having to circumvent those two—especially that transfer ability. The crude hole was the other’s way of measuring just how close he could get to No Longer Human’s area of effect.
Nikolai Gogol might be entrenched in his belief of wanting to ascertain real human freedom, which means leaving up Fyodor’s life up to fate—but that doesn’t necessarily mean the same for his ‘assistant’, and definitely not for Fyodor.
He didn’t miss the way those eyes flicked towards the hole in the ceiling, adding that to his calculations.
However, his heartbeat is still a placid calm.
Dazai happily stretches his arms and legs in order to get rid of the aches from unceremoniously plunging down from his cell. “Ah, this brings back memories,” he murmurs as he feels his muscles protesting from the sudden stretch after a long time of being stagnant inside that cell.
A matching happy smile is leveraged his way. “Did it remind you of how you wanted me dead last time?”
“I’m reminded of someone who’s also torn between wanting to kill me and wanting to save me,” Dazai says, beatific. Between his arrangements and Fyodor’s, which one will prevail? He has already made plans until that moment.
“Oh, so even our type of friend matches well!” Fyodor’s statement is echoed by Gogol who points at them and stage-whispers to his ‘assistant’, “See? It’s really like watching Dos-kun with a twin!”
Dazai snorts. “I wouldn’t call that person my friend in a thousand years.” He takes a step back away from the trio. “However, he’s different from Gogol-kun here.”
As if summoned by the gossip that Dazai is sharing about him, a massive force plummets from above, the ceiling erased from existence. One kick is all it takes, a red glow surrounding the entire area. A black coat flutters from the wind generated by this arrival, a familiar tacky hat resting on top of the other’s head.
Both of them at once:
“He’ll save me first so he can kill me himself later.”
“I’m only saving your sorry ass so I can personally beat you up later, shitty Dazai.”
Three versus two.
Chuuya doesn’t even look back at him, but a red wall surrounds him on four sides, an intrinsic, instinctive feel for calculating No Longer Human’s limits. It licks at his skin, gravity pulling the fine dust around him to encase him in a transportable ‘box’.
Chuuya kicks the ground as he points one hand towards the trio. Gogol particularly looks interested in duking this out with an Ability User who has the power over gravity. Between a space transfer ability and the ability to create blackholes that could distort space—who will prevail?
“You want a prison escape game?” A snort so derisive it could count as a war declaration. “There’s no way you can escape from gravity, so better call it quits now.”
“You do have a very nice friend, Dazai-kun,” Fyodor eventually breathes out, returning the sentiment from earlier, his eyes sharper than uncut amethysts.
Dazai’s snort mimics Chuuya’s derision just now. “Perhaps cleaning your ears should be your first priority, Fyodor-kun.” He takes one step forward so that he’s standing side-by-side with the most potent source of destructive violence in any situation. He revels in it. “This shorty over here isn’t my friend.”
For the first time, Chuuya finally glances at him, gaze promising him a painful death if he says something about a dog.
For the first time since he’s been imprisoned, he feels his smile being a lot more genuine rather than deceptive.
“He’s my partner.”
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end