Chapter Text
Chuuya has about 7 minutes of break altogether.
Due to the constant meetings and the amount of delicacy it’s taken to coverup Osamu’s suicide, he barely gets any time to unwind.
And, in the short time in which he does…
Chuuya pulls the book from within his jacket. Opens up to a new page. Fiddles with the switch of his ballpoint pen.
Then pauses as his eyes lock onto a splash of spilt ink atop of a page.
That wasn’t me.
Chūya only uses ballpoints. Unrefined? Sure. But it’s proof. That was not him.
His fingers gently brush against the dried ink.
And, within a moment,
He’s in an entirely different place.
His fingers slipped through the page. His entire body followed with it. He falls into an eerily unfamiliar environment. It reminds him of the rabbit hole to wonderland. He hears an eerily familiar voice from behind the (kitchen? it looks pretty much like a kitchen, but it has those traditional Japanese slide in doors a specific someone has always adored) door in the apartment he’s appeared in.
”That sort of high cortisol causes early aging and severe testicle cancer—you should write that down, y’know?””
The voice is slightly muffled by the thickness of the walls, but he recognises it immediately. How could he not?
How could he not recognise the voice of the man he’d stood next to for 5 years?
Osamu Dazai. Right in front of him. Right within walking distance. Returned to him. Again.
Chūya reaches for the door—
And his environment slowly fades out of focus. Blurring, slipping, darkening, and the next time he sees something definite he’s back in his office.
He blinks, deeply disoriented. What the fuck was that?
He looks towards the book. The dried ink spill twitched slightly. As if to say “Yeah. I did that.”
His hands instinctively move to rub against his forehead.
The Book just took him to… another universe? It seems most likely. Dazai had written thousands upon thousands into existence. It’s only logical that a majority of them still exist. Somehow, this random splotch of ink managed to bridge his universe to another one.
Another one where Dazai is still alive.
For the first time since Osamu left him, he feels something other than emptiness.
Hope.
Surely, if the book can bring him to another Dazai…
It can bring his Dazai back to him?
And, if it can’t…
Chūya grinned and brought his pen to a new page.
At least he has a backup plan now.