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His first parents were everything to him.
His first memories are of them surrounding him, whispering words of love to his small body, promising a life of beyond. He hadn't understood the words then, but after being repeated all of his short life, he had memorised them by heart. He was their saviour, their continuation for eternity.
He wasn't allowed friends. Anyone who could get in the way of his only purpose. He wasn't put in school. He was taught that he was only made to serve them, to finally be what everyone wants.
Yet, he was molded by uncaring hands. They only wanted to serve an unknown creator. One he was forced to kneel to. He did it with belief. It was all he knew.
His life ended early on his 18th December. Abandoned under an evergreen tree. The tree burned with him, starting what his parents believed to be the start of an eternal life, by ending his. He hadn't known what they planned to do, left in the dark until it was already set in motion. They carved into his skin, small wings that were barely a couple centimeters in diameter. It hurt, but he was forced to be quiet. He was then beaten until he was immobilised, and burnt under that tree.
He knew he would wake up, and he wanted nothing more than to die a quicker death. It hurt, it hurt so badly. He just wanted to live.
The next time he could remember, he was four years old again. He had faint memories of him being a child again, yet he remembered clear as day what his past life was like.
He quickly learned that wasn't normal. He barely spoke, but when he did he used advanced vocabulary and spoke of times and stories that never happened to him. Not in this life anyway.
He remembered each slow second til he died. Every breath of smoke that choked him faster than the burns. He remembered his parents' sharp words, turning saccharine like the expectation of tree sap. Only to taste it and be surprised by a completely watery taste and barely a hint of sweetness left. He remembered the feelings he thought was love that covered him from his parents.
He never spoke of it. Never again.
He grew up with a new set of parents that didn't worship him like a disciple of God. He went to a church and prayed to be free of sin. He became devoted to washing away the sins of a past life, fully believing that it was like this due to a punishment. Every time the pastor spoke of sins, it felt like he was being singled out. He had fallen for another trap of devotion. Had he been normal, he may have been safe.
He never heard the other voice in his head. Chuffing at the failed attempt at saving a child in need. Her attempts were mistaken as punishment. Yet, she couldn't interfere, not yet strong enough to face the backlash. She needed a reason. She had to wait.
She could wait for her prey to turn their back.
Her human only came more desperate as the memories stayed like a bad dream. Too vivid to be fake. Too painful to forget. His desperation only doubled with his parents' ignorance until he believed he had to punish himself.
His parents found him dangling from the ceiling. Long dead before they could stop him. Reading the note, they erased him from anyone's memories but their own, deeming him insane and sinful. He was forgotten.
He awoke again, yet again four years old and abandoned, and sobbed. There was no God left to save him. He was hated by them all for making him remember. Whatever sin he did in his first life by following his parents was staying with him until he repented. Even after his own self-inflicted death.
This life was no better than his first. Stuck between a delusion and greed, he was sold to anyone who wanted him. He became a doll, created to take hits or play the role they wanted. He hadn't lived long enough for them to become invasive, yet he smiled as he bled out. Hundreds of holes now in his skin from others and himself. He stabbed himself anywhere he could reach until he died and stayed dead. He would do anything to stay dead.
He was reborn again. This time however, it was the first time he didn't remember his parents. Instead of going to church every Sunday like his second life, he lived in one connected to an orphanage. Yet again, he was singled out, but this time they finally realised he was sinful.
They tried to exorcise him in hopes it would save him. He even hoped it would work. They tried beatings, jailing, starving, and everything in between to make him pay. Every attempt never worked. Unknowing to him, she had finally gotten strong enough to step in.
At just 12 years old, he was killed with an electric chair. At 12, he had killed a man with the same entity who cursed him. At 12, he forgot everything, even his past lives.
He was freed from his sins.
The bearings didn't stop however. He was still treated like vermin. This time, he didn't remember why. He was reconditioned to believe he was an embodiment of sin yet again. He was back as square one, with years of lives of memory missing.
Then he was kicked out.
Living on the streets was more difficult than expected with a blotchy memory. He had become severely forgetful after the years of abuse. He was starving, but that was the easiest part.
Being homeless on the streets of Yokohama made him see parts of the world hidden from people who hoped to never see it. Bodies of those who overdosed, definite children trying to sell themselves for an inkling of money, desperation.
He saw what happens when people become desperate. He saw the aftermath of a bloody fight over scraps. Because it was all they would get for days.
If he hasn't already thought of himself as the lowest sin can go, he would think of himself as worse for just witnessing the horrors of it. Seeing starved children's corpses was one of the worst things he's seen.
Then he saved a dying man from a river, who introduced himself as Dazai Osamu. He fed him and promised to help him in exchange for his compliance.
He had barely believed an orphanage would kick him out.
Because of him, he had discovered his ability which he would later remember was what cursed him. Byakko, the white tiger who gave him rebirth. All to save him those lifetimes ago.
But he hasn't known that yet. He could barely believe he had an ability. He didn't even realise he became an interest in the Demon Prodigy’s eyes.
As he began to remember everything; Shibusawa, the orphanage, his past lives, he began to break.
It wasn't noticeable at first. Not even Dazai realised. After all, he never figured out what went down at that orphanage. He promised himself that his mentor would never figure out what happened before that.
He would die with those memories.
Even if it killed him like they did before.
He forgot about one thing.
Ranpo.
Suddenly, Dazai had become always within eyesight of him, watching and waiting for something unknown. It took him longer than expected for him to realise. Years of training did add up.
The minute he hesitated on topics of religion and devotion, he shut it down. He held the shattered pieces together even if it cut him.
He vowed to never tell him about anything. He was going to stay true to that promise. That was, until he met Chuuya.
While Chuuya was loud and had a short fuse, he was caring and undeniably human. It was strong, the strongest, and used that to protect everyone. While his hands stained red, others clutched on tight to him in case they would get back up again.
He didn't realise what triggered it all until he heard of Arahabaki. A singularity attached to Chuuya and creating pain for him at any chance it gets. Just like Byakko.
Watching Dazai stare at the face of a god with awe in his haunted eyes and talk about it with pride in his tone caused him to wonder how Dazai would react to his past.
He hesitated for a long time, too long because Ranpo had somehow convinced Dazai to take the first step.
He had broken in on Atsushi's forced vacation day, staying quiet until he finally brought up his theory.
He noticed his reaction to Arahabaki; his fear of disgust, but a type of hatred that only lives from understanding. His hesitance on devotion. Many things he tried to hide.
It scared him. He was always deemed insane by anyone else. Would Dazai do the same?
He would rather Dazai call him insane instead of not believing him.
It hasn't taken long for him to remember it all. He hated it. He wanted to forget again.
But Dazai just steadied him and waited. He didn't push, and that hurt worse than anything else.
He waited too long. He had lived like this for too long, but would he burden Dazai with old memories? Letting his past bring him down is exactly what Dazai told him not to do. He still started.
“Dazai-san, I'm not even sure how to start this,” He honestly replied, sounding more tired than he wanted to.
Dazai hummed as he thought. “Just start from the beginning.” The worst part of it.
Would it be too late to back out now?
“My first memory I have is my first parents surrounding me, whispering how much they need me and how I will continue them forever. They said how much they loved me, but never let me talk to anyone else. I never went to school. I never saw another kid. No one knew I existed but them,” Atsushi felt himself return to that singled out area with no one in sight. He could barely feel Dazai beside him, “They always spoke of a job I was going to accomplish, but I never knew what they meant. If I went against their plan they never told me, I was ignored and screamed at. When I was six they began to tell me stories.”
He tries to bring himself back by blinking, and focusing on the man beside him. One that was always moving or speaking, gone deadly silent, “They spoke of a God that was going to save them. That I was a creation of it and my purpose was decided then. Under my first parents' influence, I became devoted to the cause.”
He felt Dazai's grip on him tighten. He barely could recognise it from how far away he felt. A hand brushed against his back, inching you towards his hair. The story paused as he focused on the feeling, “Atsushi-kun needs to remember where he is. Don't get lost in the past when trying to escape it.”
When the hand didn't stop, he continued, “I was too young and naïve to realise that I was brain washed and not devoted. On my 18th December, they decided I was ready. They carved small angel wings into my back,” He twitched as a hand fell on his back, feeling a scar that traveled through lifetimes. “Once it was done, they beat me until I could move and dropped me under an evergreen tree.”
Eyes filled with tears, he glanced towards his mentor and whispered, “Did you know evergreen represents rebirth? They did, as they burned me alive with it. They wanted me to be reborn with my memories intact. I died that day, and wanted nothing more than to die quicker.”
Hands froze but made no move to release him. Not wanting to get trapped in a life that no longer belongs to him, he moved on, “My next memory of me alive is me at four again, with a different set of parents. They didn't try to sign me off for a god they were deluded to believe was real. But I remembered everything. I eventually learned that wasn't normal.”
“You were reborn with memories of your past life still there,” Dazai concluded, giving him a minute to catch his breath.
“Right on money. As usual,” A sad smile appeared on his face, “These parents believed in another God. They took me to a church every Sunday and I listened to a pastor talk about what makes a sinner and how to repent. I knew what everything meant, and I felt like he was speaking to me.”
An arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him closer in, “I became obsessed with repenting. My parents often left me alone so I tried anything, believing I was being punished. I came to the conclusion God was waiting for me to prove myself. I didn't allow myself to feel regret as I hung myself. I believed I was inhabited by sin.”
Tears fell down his face, finally beginning to break after years. He felt Dazai's calculated gaze on him, but he knew he believed him. He didn't think he was insane. That made him feel better than chazuke ever had. He felt Dazai hesitate for many moments before holding him tight. He wailed for years of broken lifetimes taken away from him. Dazai let him, rubbing his back and whispering to him.
He didn't even allow himself to calm down, “M-my next life was short…my parents thought I was a mistake so they sold me off. I was always beaten but never touched. I stabbed myself hundreds of times hoping I wouldn't wake up.” He whispered between sobs, only feeling worse when Dazai tightened his grip again.
“I did. My orphanage was connected to a church. I was beaten, tortured, starved, exorcised, and secluded for being an embodiment of sin. When I was 12, Shibusawa tried to take my ability and I killed him. I forgot everything because of Byakko. She's the reason I remembered everything in the first place.”
He couldn't continue. He could barely speak. Dazai held him until he calmed, promising a way to let him live in peace. To finally be free.
It snowed for the first time in years. He smiled and allowed himself to be taken under the wing of the Demon Prodigy.
Dazai never called him insane. He believed him. He felt nothing but bloodlust towards the people who hurt him.
All he could do now is hold him until he felt safe,
for the first time in lifetimes.
“I will protect you Atsushi-kun. I will not let you be reborn again. You will not die until I let you.”