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PSL (closed)
[The shop had finally settled again. It was a bit of a relief, because it hadn't anchored to a world in nearly two weeks, and Watanuki's food stores had started to run low. A shopping trip would be in order, mostly to replenish his nonperishable before the shop set out looking for another world in need of his help.
Usually Watanuki could guess when a move was about to happen, but sometimes it happened out of the blue. Like this last move, which had come so soon after arriving in the previous world. That usually meant that his services were in dire need and that people's souls were calling out to him, even if they didn't quite know it themselves yet. Watanuki would just have to wait for them to come to him.
His first visitor, at least, wouldn't take too long to get there. Watanuki always had a sense of when someone was to arrive, and as soon as the shop's gates had opened and revealed itself to the busy streets of Yokohama he had felt the impending arrival of a customer. It was enough to pique his interest, because he didn't usually get a visitor on the same day after a shop move. Someone was very perceptive, it seemed.
By the time his guest would arrive, Watanuki had already set up some tea in one of the sitting rooms. The summer was at its end, and the cool breeze felt nice enough that Watanuki had decided to open the movable doors to reveal the backyard, which was still bathed in the greens of summer. They could stay cool without the need of an air conditioner that way.
From there, he waited. He had a feeling that his guest was a particularly clever one, so he felt sure that they would find their way to the sitting room on their own.]
Usually Watanuki could guess when a move was about to happen, but sometimes it happened out of the blue. Like this last move, which had come so soon after arriving in the previous world. That usually meant that his services were in dire need and that people's souls were calling out to him, even if they didn't quite know it themselves yet. Watanuki would just have to wait for them to come to him.
His first visitor, at least, wouldn't take too long to get there. Watanuki always had a sense of when someone was to arrive, and as soon as the shop's gates had opened and revealed itself to the busy streets of Yokohama he had felt the impending arrival of a customer. It was enough to pique his interest, because he didn't usually get a visitor on the same day after a shop move. Someone was very perceptive, it seemed.
By the time his guest would arrive, Watanuki had already set up some tea in one of the sitting rooms. The summer was at its end, and the cool breeze felt nice enough that Watanuki had decided to open the movable doors to reveal the backyard, which was still bathed in the greens of summer. They could stay cool without the need of an air conditioner that way.
From there, he waited. He had a feeling that his guest was a particularly clever one, so he felt sure that they would find their way to the sitting room on their own.]
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Dazai was right though. It was rare for Watanuki to get surprised like that. Most people don't surprise him anymore, and the fact that Dazai managed it was definitely a point in Dazai's favor.]
We can. I'll take them with us.
[That was how he ended up carrying the thermos and package of biscuits with him as they went to the yard.
Smithy did seem done by the time they got there, though. Both guns were sitting on the porch, and Smithy was packing up his tools.]
Perfect timing! Here, try them out. I attuned them to your soul and also fine-tuned them to handle magical energy without breaking.
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Dazai took his tea with him, humming as they walked. It was still warm enough. In a strange way, it embodied what made tea, well, tea - full flavor, nice fragrance, its temperature calling to something just out of reach.
Watanuki would make a killing if he ever became a professional chef, though Dazai knew better to suggest taking a mass commercial route. No, his food would lose its touch in that kind of setting: the shopkeeper was better off going the bespoke route, much like his current trade. In a sense, it was all very traditional, reminding Dazai of that barkeep at the Lupin who never forgot his usual order.
How... strangely nostalgic. And Dazai wasn't usually one for tea.]
'Breaking?' You mean I can actually overload these? Not that I wish to, when I'd rather preserve both them and your hard work.
[So he talked while examining the Smithy's tools and the guns - they didn't look any different as far as he could tell. Come to think about it -]
Will I be the only one to use these?
[That was the more practical question, no matter how curious Dazai was on how his soul had been linked to these when he wasn't even in the room.
Well, no time like the present to test it out! He reached for one of the guns, intending to head to Watanuki's backyard - no need to break anything in here.
Any reactions from Odasaku while this was going on?]
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Watanuki's backyard was indeed a good place to test firing things. The blankets were still on the clothesline, but there was a space where Dazai could shoot without destroying them. Maru and Moro even ran about putting up cans for him to try his shots on. They were helpful little gremlins when they wanted to be.
And as Dazai got ready to try them, Smithy went ahead and explained how they worked.]
They're meant for only you, yes. Others can pick them up and use them as normal guns, but they will always cause trouble for another user. They will misfire frequently or just plain not work when the mood strikes them. For you, though, they will work every time.
Ah, but I recommend not keeping normal ammunition in them most of the time. Forgetting to unload them before using your powers with them could have deadly results for whatever you're shooting at. If you use just your power and no bullets, the shots these guns fire will nullify other powers and exorcise spirits while not harming mortal bodies.
Oh! I also put limiters on the chambers so you don't use up all of your power with one shot. Training will increase how many shots you can do in a row, but to start off with you should be able to manage three before exhausting your supply of energy. It should keep you from overloading the guns with too much power and breaking them too.
[So yes, Dazai can indeed break objects with his power. But the limiters would keep the guns intact at least.]
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[So, yes, no bullets. Not the usual ones, at least. That was the other reason why he picked this specific set of guns, an extension of his avoidance in personally carrying any firearms when he was in the mafia, choosing instead to borrow from his subordinates: once upon a time, he had been that guy who unnecessarily unloaded a full clip on a cooling corpse after putting him out of his misery.
Some people shouldn't be trusted with guns when they were too focused on witnessing the steep cliff between life and death.
With that in mind - and Odasaku close, too - he curled his fingers around the grip.]
[2/2] also: dem yu yu hakusho rules. I like it
It reminded him of Doumeki's bow, that strange restlessness beneath his skin, except it was clearer. Smoother.
Potent and with little resistance.
Those sensations were reasonable to expect. What he hadn't considered, however, were the memories mixed in.
Whiskey. Aftershave. Incredibly spicy curry even on hot summer days. Naps on a wooden floor with five children sprawled around him, Kousuke's foot digging on his ribs.
A serious talk over curry, before everything slid deeper into hell.
Finally, an unspoken wish, and helplessness.
Perhaps someone should persistently tie Dazai up, open the lid over his chest and stuff the head of a vacuum cleaner in. They have to let Dazai, who should be screaming in pain and resisting, settle down. Following which, the difficult things in his heart must all be dragged out under the sun and stepped on mercilessly.
However, there isn’t a vacuum cleaner like that, neither is there something like a lid over one’s chest, much less a person like that. Everything only exists as shapes that one’s eyes can see, simply brushing past us.
The only thing mankind can do is to silently stand before the ravines between others.]
...oh.
[Dazai stared at the gun, stricken into silence.
What could he say after that?
A wound, four years old, seemed to open in his chest once more, cutting deep in his heart.]
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Whatever the case, Watanuki couldn't see what Dazai saw. All he could see was the effect it had on Dazai, and after a few moments he reached a hand out to gently touch Dazai's shoulder. it was an attempt to pull him out of those memories and back to the present.]
Do you need a moment?
[He was offering to give Dazai a chance to process what he had seen before moving on. There was concern in his voice, too.]
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Dazai was acutely aware of the cool air by his other shoulder, too. Never had there been a moment when he so strongly wanted to bury his face on Odasaku's shoulder, apart from the time the man died.
Ahh, but of course that was denied to him. A spirit was far from solid.]
I'll be...
[Fine, he wanted to say, but the word was lodged in his throat. Indeed, a vacuum cleaner would be so damn convenient right about now. Maybe that's what he'd use next time, if it was possible to do this without the Smithy's intervention.
Dazai shrugged, perhaps in answer yo both Watanuki's question and his own speculation. He kept his head down as he reached for the second gun with a boldness he did not feel. The connection was stronger with two pistols in hand, bringing him to memories of odd conversations and unfinished books.
Truly, Odasaku saw the world plain as day.
Dazai silently headed for the back yard, every step heavy. How he missed the man.]
I owe you for this.
[It wasn't clear who he was talking to: Watanuki, or Odasaku.]
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Watanuki didn't point that out, though. Nor did he respond to anything else Dazai said. Now wasn't a moment for lectures or insight. Dazai was leading this conversation with his heavy heart. So Watanuki followed Dazai out to the backyard wordlessly, watching what Dazai did. He was ready to intervene if needed, but he suspected Dazai already knew what to do.
The payment would be given to Smithy once the guns had been tested. He trusted Smithy's work, but that was the way of things. Any craftsman wanted to see that their work was accepted, after all. ]
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(He's been alone in his mind for far too long.)
When he reached the porch, Dazai took a steady breath, leaning on one of the posts for a moment before correcting his posture. The restless warmth in his system had spread from his fingers to his chest. According to the Smithy, his current limit was three shots a day.
There were two guns.
The last time, one blast was enough to drain him. In this manner, standing next to the post was a good precaution.
In a move that violated basic gun safety, he stuck the second pistol in his coat pocket. Examined the first, went through the motions of reloading the pistol - checking to see if the magazine was still empty (it was, similar to the second gun), re-inserting it, releasing the safety. Pulled the slide, perhaps unnecessary given that there were no rounds to release. Watanuki might notice the confidence in the stillness of Dazai's hands, the complete opposite of how shaken the ex-mafioso looked earlier: this was just one of those things he used to do to keep his hands busy and clear his mind, even if there were no bullets around as a precaution.
For most people, folding the laundry had the same effect.
When Dazai was finally ready, he made sure his footing was even: while he recalled how much recoil this pistol had, there was no telling if it was the same with this new ammunition. If there were no objections, he'd take aim at the same fence he'd used the bow on. Maybe later, he could check out if that first blast had left a physical mark; he was too tired last night to return to the yard before heading the long way home.
He crooked his finger on the trigger.
Took a breath.
When he fired, there was yet another tug, heat surging past his fingertips.
An exhale. He leaned on the post.
Regular pistols weren't this draining. Conversely, if it wasn't for the drain, he wouldn't have known he had shot something that he could neither see nor hear. At least, however, he was still standing.
A test shot with the second gun was probably doable.
He flicked the safety of the first pistol, switched places, and went through the motions again.]
They're not loud.
[Compared to normal gunfire, he meant.]
Are they supposed to look like anything?
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[Watanuki nodded in agreement with Smithy's observation. Dazai couldn't see it, but his power actually left a rather brilliant trail through the air.
He was right, though. The shots made almost no sound at all, beyond the 'click' of the trigger and the slide of a recoil filled with no physical casing to eject. It was an effective weapon, and deadly to the right sort of being while being harmless to others. It was exactly what Watanuki had arranged, basically.]
How does it feel in your hands?
[He could tell the whole situation weighed heavily on Dazai's mind, and that Dazai would need some time to recover from it. But the physical act of firing the newly-changed gun was what he was asking about. He was curious to see if Dazai felt as drained as he had yesterday.]
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Blue?
[The doubt was audible. Pretty? Beautiful? Not the associations he expected from something that came from him.]
Is the color significant somehow? Or is it just my perpetual Monday blues acting up?
[Har har.
As for the gun - he kept it pointed at the fence. Instead of making the second shot, however, Dazai made the obvious motion of 'testing' its weight, keeping his wrist flexible.]
Lighter than normal without bullets. Not much recoil, too, which isn't something I'm used to.
[He wasn't breathless. Watanuki might be able to tell, however, that Dazai's tone was a touch too even: a trick the brunet reflexively used to conceal the first signs of strain.
Unlike yesterday, the effects of the drain were slower to make themselves be felt.]
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[A careful use of words to avoid using Atsushi's name.]
You'll need some practice to get used to the difference in how it works, but I suspect the shopkeeper here will make sure you're well taken care of. And if you need repairs or adjustments, I'm just a phone call away!
[Watanuki did notice that sign, though, and he drew his own conclusions based on it. It sounded like Dazai wasn't dissatisfied with the work, so he offered up the containers of tea and biscuits to the spirit standing near him as payment for his work.]
Your craftsmanship is top-notch once again, I must say. Thank you for making the trip on such short notice.
[Smithy took the two containers with a wide grin, clearly pleased by the results. If Dazai wanted to say anything before the cat wandered off, now was the time. Watanuki suspected that Dazai might want some time to himself to get used to all of this, though.]
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[Interestingly, his first thought was Kunikida, before shifting to Atsushi. Dignified blue, moon-blue. Or something like that.
Watanuki had also guessed correctly. Dazai had fired off the second shot at the fence before nodding, giving the Smithy a polite smile. Gun two, in perfect condition.]
Thanks. I'll make sure to take care of these.
[He only sank down to the floor after the spirit left and leaned on the post, the gun placed carefully on the floor next to him.
Dazai closed his eyes, feeling out where Oda's cold air spot was, and waited for Watanuki before speaking.]
I'm surprised he didn't mind the sudden schedule.
...Do memory transfers happen often with this sort of thing?
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[Hence why Dazai didn't see any of Doumeki's memories, but he did see Oda's.
Watanuki took a seat on the porch next to Dazai, bringing himself down to Dazai's level so they could speak.]
You're haunted by him, aren't you?
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He isn't one to bring gloom and doom to others, you know. If anything, I'm the one haunting him.
[By visiting his grave frequently. That's how that works, right?]
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What I meant is your shared past, and the reminders of it his presence brings for you. That's what is haunting you. You can't let go of 'what used to be', and you similarly can't accept 'what it is now.'
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Dazai let out a breath, letting his heel touch the ground below the ledge.]
Atsushi-kun took a while to guess certain things about me, and that was after the Agency went through several troubling affairs.
Are you able to put your finger on this much simply because of all the people you've met over a long period of time? Or is there more to that story you told me about that person you once knew who had troubles seeing the value of their own gifts?
[These were the two main possibilities that came to mind: either Watanuki had met someone like Dazai, or the Shopkeeper himself had some similar experience. Whether Watanuki's abilities granted him some additional advantage in perception was difficult to confirm.]
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Perhaps. What do you think the answer is?
[Because Dazai wouldn't have spoken up if he didn't have suspicions of some sort.]
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Dazai could play along for now.
...or not.]
Let's say it's both, and that particular friend of yours is someone you see in the mirror. Unless you have some other surprise up your sleeve, Shopkeeper?
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[The admission was quiet, but no less powerful. He didn't sound ashamed or like he was trying to hide anything, either. Rather, his voice had a sad, nostalgic tone to it, one that betrayed his real age.
He did miss Doumeki, much in the way Dazai missed Oda. And because he had loved and lost, he could understand Dazai's hesitation when it came to Oda.]
Souls don't linger forever. Eventually they all pass on to whatever comes 'after'. I'm sure it has something to do with regrets and leaving unfinished work and the like, but that grand divide is something even my powers can't see past. When they decide they're ready to pass on, they're beyond my reach.
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He studied Watanuki's expression. Perhaps now was not the time to mention he thought of looking for a Doumeki's death records in this world, and only his exhaustion yesterday stopped him from starting.
Ah. What a pair they made.
Dazai hesitated for a moment before touching Watanuki's shoulder.]
It isn't. Unusual, I mean.
[He didn't even know how to begin with the second part. It would be rude to even assume he knew anything about Doumeki, apart from his bow.
His very used, cared-for bow.
Dazai squeezed.]
He must've wanted to keep you out of harm's way. I daresay he succeeded.
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[Ah, but he shouldn't bury himself in memories of the past. He would be there for hours if he did. Instead, he reached up to poke at Dazai's arm gently.]
What I'm saying is, I've been through this, and much more time has passed for me. You weren't even born yet when he died. So I've had time to grow used to his absence. I should be the one comforting you here.
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He also had to double down in avoiding the obvious cradle robber joke, to alleviate his own stress.]
As you can see, the guns didn't knock me out.
[Accepting comfort was hard, okay?]
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[He'll recognize the progress Dazai was making, because praise like that was important to get people to keep trying.]
But that's not quite what I meant by 'support', and I think you know that.
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Dazai gave a sigh that might've been a grumble. There was no getting out of this, was there?]
Must we? What's happened's already done and over with, you know. Experienced. Lived through. Committed to memory.
[
look who was being a brat]In fact, I might get a vacuum cleaner to commemorate this afternoon.
[Sounded random? Sure.
If Watanuki probed a little more, Dazai might actually talk. How direct he might be was for anyone to guess.]
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