Chuuya
I dusted my gloved hands as I surveyed the wreckage all around me. Giving a low whistle, I thanked Mori silently for this job. Recently I've been getting all the boring ones that's just got to do with the supervision of some department or other. But this time, I've been sent to wreak havoc in the name of revenge – which is obviously, what I do best.
Unfortunately, I wasn't sent alone. The bandage-freak was sent ahead to collect some intel first before rendezvousing with me. Honestly, this is probably the only use we have of him. The idiot has done nothing but sit by, content in letting me carry out all the dirty work myself. Well whatever, he'd probably only get in the way if he tried to help.
Speaking of which, where the hell is he?
I spun around, looking over the rubble, calling his name over and over again. Clambering about, I lifted chunks of debris, hoping nothing crushed him. Not that I actually cared about his pathetic life. I just didn't want to report the death of Mori's favourite pet.
Digging deeper, I found him on top of an unconscious man below a slab of concrete. Pulling it off, my idiot partner got up, smiling as he held up a keychain with some plushie on it.
"What the heck?" I panted, eyebrows knitting together in frustration.
"Worried about me, Chuuya?"
"Hah! Not in the least!"
The dark-clad man shrugged. "Well, in any case, I'm glad I got to retrieve this limited edition gashapon charm! It was hanging off this guy's phone –"
Ignoring his silly babbling, I started to walk away, through the rubble and back to the forest from where we ambushed our targets.
I was droning out his voice so eventually, it faded out to white noise and then nothingness. However, walking through the forest in complete silence was getting to be a little unsettling. I like to be aware of where the suicidal bastard was at any point in time, lest he pulls something stupid. So, I whirled around to glare at him …
Except that all I saw were trees and thick foliage surrounding me.
"Oi, oi! Stop playing tricks and come out from wherever you're hiding!" I yelled angrily.
Dead silence continued to greet me.
Sensing something was wrong, I doubled back and ran through the trees, calling out his name for the second time that day.
Wait, what was it again? His … name?
The sun had already begun to set as we left but it was unusually dark right now. Staring at my surroundings, the trees seemed to grow taller, thicker. There was an ominous darkness encroaching from all around. It was coming closer and closer and I had nowhere to run.
Panicking, I tried to call out for help, for him … Only that I can't remember his name anymore. Why can't I remember his name?
Right about when the darkness fully engulfed me, my voice gave out; throat hoarse from screaming.
I never found him again.
Dazai
When I walked into the café, it was already past 12 but for some reason I didn't feel a hint of tiredness. Instead, my mind was working on overdrive.
Confirming the continued, revived existence of Blood Raid had just made things more interesting. And while I had a hunch about where things were going, as I've told Tanizaki-kun, I still need to confirm how things have gone.
The bell above the door tinkled, signalling my entrance. 3 seconds later, the elderly lady exited from her kitchen, freezing momentarily as she saw me.
Not forgetting my impoliteness during my last visit, I gave her a sheepish smile. "Ah, what an awkward situation. Could I possibly diffuse the tension with this single, lovely buttercup?" I held up the yellow flower as a peace offering.
After regarding me for a moment, the elderly lady finally gave a toothy grin. "Oh my. Buttercups are poisonous – I wonder what this could imply."
"Perhaps I am merely suggesting a suicide pact of sorts?"
"I see you haven't found your beautiful partner, yet. Am I your last resort?"
I pretend to look offended. "Not at all, Ma'am!"
She chuckled, gesturing for me to sit as she disappeared back into the kitchen. When she emerged, she was holding a steaming cup of coffee which she gently placed on my table by the window.
"I thought you might have finally passed on as you haven't been here for a while," the old lady started, "but seeing as you are here, with a flower you picked from the wild bushes around this café, you must have a purpose."
Caught red-handed, but I didn't bother denying that little fact. "Heh, well then. Shall I get to the point?"
"Please do."
I took a long sip of coffee, sighing at the strong flavour before starting. "See, I'm a representative from the Armed Detective Agency. Surely you must have heard of us?"
"I might have," was the wry reply.
"Awesome!" I exclaimed, "That makes things so much easier! I'll cut straight to the chase, then. At the moment, we're investigating a criminal organisation that we suspect you might be involved in!"
The old lady raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
"Yes, you," I confirmed, then slyly added, stirring my coffee, "… or any other members of your family."
She smiled politely. "I have no family left."
"Is that so?"
The elderly lady replied unfazed, "Unless you're referring to the ghosts of my past."
I thought about the answer. How should I proceed now? I could always, of course, ask her outright …
"You said you were a detective from the government, didn't you?" She mused. "Wouldn't you have my personal particulars already?"
I grinned, swallowing another mouthful of rich coffee. "There's more fun to finding out than simply, knowing."
The old lady laughed lightly. "Is that why this is your career?"
"Sorry?"
"A detective for an occupation," she specified. "I remember the first time I met you, you said you haven't found something to look forward to in life. Is this job your way of trying to find a reason to live?"
I felt something knotting in my gut. There might be something wrong with the delicious coffee after all. Too much of a good thing was bad for you, right? Wasn't there such a saying?
I continued to down my drink. If it really were bad for me, I'll just kill myself right now by overdosing on it.
Alas, however, my drink was soon gone and I am still alive. I know this for a fact because of the lingering, burning, bitter taste the coffee left in my mouth.
"I'm here because of a friend," I said finally. "That's all there is to this. It was his recommendation which I simply chose to take."
"For a reason."
"Yes," I admitted, wondering why I was so talkative. "I took it because I valued his friendship. But ultimately," I paused for a bit, "there's not much difference between my last job and this one."
The elderly lady spoke slowly. "But if I remember correctly, you lost something, didn't you?"
I blinked. What is she talking about? But even as the question echoed in my mind, my head had also started to conjure up memories from a bygone era. I could feel the gears in my head working. I could make a calculated choice right here, right now to deny everything and leave. I could even sweet talk my way back into getting more information out of her to aid my case. Or I could just give up rationality altogether.
What purpose would that serve though?
It wouldn't add anything to the grand scheme of things.
I wasn't here as a regular customer chatting about the on-goings of my life or my past.
I was, am, a detective on a job.
I must carry it out.
Doing anything else would be a waste of time and energy.
"You're thinking really hard," her voice cut into my thoughts. "I can practically see you calculating every response you can give and each scenario it would lead to."
I sighed, playing with the rim of my empty cup. "I don't see anything wrong with making a logical decision."
"No," she agreed. "But it might hurt you, eventually. That will impact your emotional wellbeing."
I laughed, actually laughed. Emotional wellbeing? Feelings get in the way of productivity. Feelings allow one to be manipulated. But at the same time, I thought, licking my lips, they allow me to manipulate others.
"Lady," I held my stomach as my laughter subsided. "Don't worry about me. I can assure you I'm not doing anything that will ultimately harm me … well, except for suicide of course, but I see that as a benefit –"
"You might hurt or harm someone else with your ways, however. Are you okay with that?" The elderly lady looked at me sternly.
I laid down some notes on the table and got up, still smiling as I left. "I've long grown accustomed to that."
Yes, that's right. For the last person I've hurt with my logical reasoning, was none other than my completely illogical, over-sentimental ex-partner.
If I can live with such a betrayal, then I have no problems hurting people I consider random strangers.
Chuuya
I awoke with a jolt, feeling out of breath and panting hard.
As my vision gradually adjusted to the darkness, I saw that I was staring at the ceiling of my living room. Wiping the perspiration away from my brow, I turned my head to the side to the clock on the wall which read half past 2 in the morning.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the arm of my couch, silently swearing. Another nightmare. Another nightmare from a memory four years ago. How wonderful.
Finally, I turned to my side, curling up and recalling the dream. Then, I decided I didn't want to after all. Perhaps these nightmares keep happening because I keep thinking about them. I really should stop analysing them.
Even if I do find it discomforting that they all involve a certain individual of late.
I sat up, feeling my throat was as dry and hoarse as it got in my dream and stumbled into the kitchen for water. Though it quenched my thirst, it didn't quite help soothe my nerves and I soon found myself craving for something much stronger.
Unfortunately, since my apartment had been cleansed of liquid sin, my confused and sleep-deprived brain decided on impulse I might as well slip downstairs for some tea. I rationalised that I probably needed a short walk and night-time air to clear my head too. And with that thought, I grabbed my long coat and headed outside.
It was dark and I realised the moon wasn't out. The sky was just as clouded as my head. There was also a chilly breeze out tonight and instinctively, I pulled my coat around my shoulders tighter, cursing under my breath for forgetting my hat.
As my ears slowly froze, I made my way to the flashy café in record time, slipping inside its warmth without any hesitation.
Involuntarily, I sighed. It was quiet (no customers tonight) and warm. Just what I needed.
"Look who's here," a familiar voice greeted me.
I made a sound between a grunt and "hello" before heading towards my usual table, wondering for the hundredth time why nobody ever sits here.
"You look … horrid," the elderly lady said, appearing at my side at once.
My head snapped up. "I'm sorry, I just woke up!"
"Did you now?" I felt a prickle of irritation at her perfect eyebrow raise. Great another one.
But because I'm the more mature, I decided to overlook her patronising and asked for a warm cup of tea instead.
"Any tea."
"Any?"
"I just want something warm and sweet," I specified, not really caring to glance at the menu.
I watched her disappear unhurriedly into the kitchen, my vision blurring out slightly. Subconsciously, my disturbed mind drifted back to the events of today. Getting sent home early, Ane-san disposing of all my liquor …
I do need to fix this problem, quick. Not the usual nightmares, 'cause those won't stop – I've tried everything. But more specifically, the recent vivid nightmares about this one, reoccurring person. That is ridiculous! How is he still such a pain in my life after so many years?
Because I let him, an annoying voice in my head taunted. In response, my nerves prickled at my own frustration.
The clink of porcelain interrupted my thoughts and I was pulled back to the present instantly. When the elderly lady drew back, I was faced with a cup of steaming, swirling, clear, golden liquid.
"That's chamomile with a bit of honey and lemon," she stated. "It'll help soothe your nerves."
I glared at her. "What makes you think my nerves need any soothing? I'm perfectly fine."
The elderly lady shrugged. "You seem particularly irritable today – and you came in asking for something warm and sweet. So I just assumed something might have happened."
I made a sound that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a huff to indicate my displeasure. I realised I would be proving her right if I started to yell and so I resolved to keep my frustration to myself.
After marvelling at the clarity of the golden liquid which reflected amber tones under the light, I finally lifted the cup to my lips and took a long sip.
It was the most comforting feeling I've felt in a long time.
The tea instantly soothed my throat and my nerves. It's warmth filling my entire body down to my fingertips, immediately alleviating any cold.
"I thought you might like it," I hear the old lady say.
"I do," and I answer honestly, setting down the cup.
There was a moment of silence as I rubbed my eyes and just breathed deeply. I really needed that. Whatever this chamomile tea thing is. Could I buy it in bulk somewhere?
"You know," the lady spoke up again. "Looking at your satisfaction really reminds me of someone."
I glanced at her, feeling decidedly more agreeable. "Really?"
She looked thoughtful as she pondered her response. "My daughter …"
"You said she moved away," I said, ignoring the fact that I actually remembered this fact.
"Yes," she replied with a smile (dammit! It didn't go unnoticed!), "but back when we were still living together, I always made her chamomile tea to help her sleep."
I blinked, her daughter has sleeping problems too?
"It was the only thing that soothed her," the elderly lady continued, looking into the window beside me. "She couldn't stop tossing and turning at night for a good 3 months since that day."
"Did she …" I started, but trailed off seeing the lady's eyes snap back to me. She continued to stare expectantly at me. I hesitated, clutching at the cup for more warmth. "Did she use to …. Ummm. Experience nightmares?"
The old lady bit her lip. "Well no, I don't think. She just had fitful bouts of sleep. She has never mentioned having any nightmares."
I drank my tea slowly. I never mention my nightmares either.
"Though, then again, who would willingly admit that?" The elderly lady said, reading my thoughts. I looked at her in surprise.
"Especially since …" she continued slowly, a little hint of hurt in her voice. " …. Since Kano-chan blames me for what happened."
I found myself whispering. "What happened?
The elderly lady's eyes glazed over, clouded in her thoughts and memories. "Her father, my husband died. Kano-chan blames me for his death … I think she still does."
"Have you spoken to her about it?" I suggested, unsure of what else I could say.
She shook her head. "I've tried but … we haven't spoken in years and – there's really nothing I can say."
Then, the elderly lady looked right at me. "After all, I can't revive my husband's death. But you might still have the ability to fix whatever's troubling you. So take every opportunity to, before it's too late."
Involuntarily, I had clenched my fists which have begun to shake. Fix it? I'd have to strangle a certain someone with my bare hands in order to satiate my hate, then.
But … what does that mean? That my nightmares are a result of a deep loathing and hate for one person? For some reason, that doesn't seem quite right either.
Could it be that recently working with him again had raised memories of the years he had tormented me? It's like experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder. Right?
But that didn't seem like it either. And no matter how much I try to lie to myself, I know that that's just not the root reason or cause for my nightmares.
I chugged down the rest of my tea, swallowing a sob as I did so. I hate being honest with myself.
"I'm sorry," the elderly lady apologised as I handed her a few notes for the drink.
"Please don't be," I said thickly. "I really don't need your pity."
Then I left the café and headed straight home where I immediately climbed into my bed. Perhaps it was the chamomile tea or my outburst of emotions, or even both, but I was so exhausted, I fell into a dreamless sleep instantly.
A/N: Honestly (Ha!) the only person not lying to themselves right now is the elderly lady. Kind of sad but we'll see what happens.
