He remembers flying. It is almost akin to dying, but not quite. In this desolate world, he dreams. A dream he has had before. Of red-black flames. Of freedom, of being. Somewhere, anywhere. Chuuya has been unable to resist the siren call of Eidolon (it is the only word he can remember, the rest is muddled) much like the other denizens, but it does not mean he accepts it. As someone used to unexpected things becoming the norm, and as someone who had to sacrifice much to get where he was at life right now...
There was no way wishes could be granted without anything in return. But what did they take? His life? He can’t remember his last day back at Yokohama, and while the theory holds some value... it simply won’t do. It is still too early to see Chuuya pacing around his room, momentarily ignoring the other people sleeping there.
There is suspicion, but some other part of him does not want to break free. But still he does. Selfishly following his goals were never his thing. It was more like Dazai’s. Speaking of which... if there was a magical place that could grant whatever your darkest, deepest wish... wasn’t his ex-partner a better target?
Arahabaki stirs, chained and the monstrous howl can be heard by no one but the man who looks puzzled by his current situation. He cannot use his powers, which were second nature to him. But still, he exists. The fact that he continues to exist means that they were not completely nullified or taken away. Sealed, perhaps.
He opens the door to face the freezing, biting cold. For some reason, the environment makes him think he feels almost welcome in this new place. Chuuya knows better, but it is almost impossible to shake these thoughts. Almost as if they were graved upon his very soul. The idea of losing control is uncomfortable. Maddening in some other situation, but now somewhat controlled.
No... instead of thinking about possible abductions, executions and whatnot... Chuuya feels worried. He adjusts his hat once more, bothered by the idea of losing something that was part of him for so long. Even back at Sheep, he prepared for situations that would eliminate the possibility of using his Ability. His actual skills would not be hindered, but that was far from the ideal situation. Nevermind that Mori would view his absence very terribly. Again, that weird feeling. The tiny voice in his head asking exactly why should he care about these things.
Again, he thinks he died. Uncomfortable, but nothing that can really verify this theory... so he presses on. He needs intel, and an opportunity quickly presents itself. ‘The Crystal Tavern’, they called. Maybe he could find some wine on top of all of this. He sure could use a drink. The place is comfortable, and while the sight of the owner takes him aback for a few seconds... what really surprises him is the silhouette of a familiar figure. It is almost as if this place has read his mind, again. Or maybe Dazai himself did. His steps are heavy, and the warm atmosphere just seems to stoke the fires of his (admittedly very short) temper.
“I was starting to think this place was fishy, but to see you around...”
Normally, he would kick the table in his direction as a warning sign. Or simply disrupt the so-called ‘peace and quiet’ of the man who was still ignoring him, drinking his stupid cheap sake. He wasn’t mistaken. There was only one person in the world that could set him off this quickly, to get a reaction out of someone who would normally try to take things in stride.
“... was it you? Even if you had cash saved, this is going too far to be a prank.”
Unless Dazai had a way of magically sealing his stuff away and making him feel things he was not supposed to feel. Chuuya pushes his anxiety aside, slamming his hand against the table his ex-partner was so happily sitting and drinking at.
“Eh, Dazai? What is this about?”
Well, he did want intel. This stupid mackerel might just be capable of finally being useful for something else than dead weight and needless worrying. Hopefully.
