Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A lady ran by the crosswalk. She cursed the sky, all alone. “Bad luck”… or something. Yes, some kept their arms crossed. There would always be people to blame those things.

Doppo opened his umbrella. Bad luck isn’t a thing.

It was a transparent one of the cheapest quality. An interesting umbrella was useless; it never lasted in a basket outside. He’d be better off with none at all.

He had one arm in the front like a butler. A plastic bag was hanging from his forearm. It was shaking as little as possible. Getting the cake wet in the rain was not an option. The vegetables were less troublesome. They’d survive a drop or two.

Thunder clapped. Two minutes prior, the sky was a perfect blue.

He’d skipped the bike ride because the sky was a perfect blue. The heat haze from the summer break was over, and breathing was fluid again. It was walking weather, pedestrians relishing the cool breeze, but he knew to still be wary of summer and its sudden storms.

The river to his right was a match to the thunder. It was rising by that time despite being narrow, roaring towards the sea. The umbrella parried the drops, a dome of white noise above. I kinda like it.

That rain, however, was a liar. It tricked, claiming innocence. In ten minutes, it’d drench the unwitting. He’d have to close the umbrella to figure out the truth. With food as a gift in hand? No way.

Fifteen days or so before, he’d walked the same route. From the grocer’s house to home. Doppo always knew when the owners were on the phone. Or their children, the twins, with childish voices and a subtler accent. They have another tutor now that I moved. Are they doing well in school, I wonder?

He’d learned how to greet people, what to call them, and names for products. All in Vietnamese. If he couldn’t remember a word, he only needed a second. English lessons had been mandatory for years. Could he claim he spoke the language? He’d pick up words from songs on the radio. That was all.

Being their cashier helped with the bills while it lasted. He shouldn’t, but needed it. I mean. “Shouldn’t,” my ass. He shouldn’t in theory. He was capable; it was right. “Can I get a job?” was met with, “We could use your help.” If necessities had the final say, the law was a suggestion.

I miss it. A little, at least.

They’d been in the new apartment for over a year. There weren’t leaks to put buckets under, nor surprise roaches behind the furniture. Moving districts, one should transfer schools… which would happen sooner or later. The course of life was like the river beside. It ran towards one single thing.

Change was natural, sort of. Desired? Perhaps. A “perhaps” leaning onto “yes” more than “no.” He’d cried in his old bedroom before leaving for good. And in the new one, on the first night. He had to let it out before he could sleep in peace.

The leaks and roaches wouldn’t be missed at all.

Doppo glanced at the sky. This rain should be heavier soon… No slipping, no shaking the food. Looking ahead, with a firm step, it was time to pick up the pace.

He’d never had a sweet tooth. From time to time, he spent coins on that, and wouldn’t do it again for months on end. The exception was cake. The shop owners knew that. They insisted on the birthday gift, only one day later, till he picked it up.

There’s still yesterday’s cake… will mom care if I open this one? The apartment was all his till seven-thirty or so. There was laundry and dishes to do. A few other tasks here and there, if done in time, should distract her. There’d be a missing piece of cake, vanished under mysterious circumstances.

There was a mystery, too, before him. A dark figure huddled on a bench, one of many benches by the riverside. That specific bench was beside a bridge, a mildly inconvenient one to cross by bike.

Is that a person? Doppo frowned. It looks like a garbage bag. Why are they in the rain? If he wanted to know, he couldn’t dismiss it. He slowed down, and then stopped beside the bench.

The guy didn’t even move.

Had they been classmates, he’d get three love letters a week… if only he stopped mentioning a “hidden power” to the girls. With his head low, he stared at a black Game Boy Advance. Hooked on the game, like a cat preying on a bird. His left cheek had a bloodied patch, and his right eye was covered in bandages. How can he even play?

A dark hoodie covered his shoulders, and his head was out in the rain. That doesn’t make sense. Doppo squinted. Is this guy okay?

What to do, then? Was that stranger hungry? Thirsty? Cold? All of the above? He could want to inform someone or be a runaway. No. If he was running away, he wouldn’t be playing video games in the open.

On a regular mental note, he exhaled and relaxed his shoulders. Sensei is always calling me out. Well… the guy is in the rain. I can solve that right away.

“What are you doing here?” Doppo put his umbrella over the stranger. “Being in the rain is bad for you.”

The boy pressed the pause button in a split second. Did I startle him? It took forever for him to look back, though. He did it just a little, staring with the sole eye out. Woah, he looks exhausted. Do you even sleep?

“I’m going to finish this stage,” the stranger replied, “and attempt suicide.”

“Attempt what?!”

“You needn’t bother.”

Another eternity later, he resumed the game.

“Hey. Don’t ignore me,” Doppo said. The boy paused the game a second time, stared back, and returned to it. “What’s your name?”

The speed that weirdo had in pressing buttons was ominous. He could beat everyone in an arcade, if he ever goes there. He’s still ignoring me, though. Sensei, can I beat him with my umbrella?

“What are you doing with my name?” the boy asked.

“Huh? Call you.” Are you stupid or what? “‘Dumbass in the rain.’ How’s that?”

“Tell me yours first.”

“Doppo Kunikida. Yours now.”

It took a third moment of eternity, to the sound of endless buttons, till that boy grinned. No teeth were shown. He didn’t look happy either.

He mocked, “You really told your full name to a stranger.”

“What?” Doppo muffled an ironic chuckle. “I did. So?”

“Whatever. Dazai is my name. If that will do.”

“Huh…” No “nice to meet you” in sight. I wonder what the kanji are. “Fine.”

“I could’ve lied to you.”

“And I could’ve lied to you.” Trying to talk is useless. “Any name is good. Dumbass in the rain.”

I’d be halfway home if it weren’t for this guy.

“Oh.” Dazai paused the game and lifted his head. “Now, you’re the dumbass in the rain.”

“That is your fault, and you’re the dumbass.” Shit, it’s getting heavier. “Go hide somewhere. It’ll ruin that thing.”

“Game Boys are resistant, tho.”

“C’mon. Get up.”

“No.”

“Then stay.” Doppo pulled back the umbrella. “I won’t waste my time.”

Dazai didn’t agree or disagree. He just got up to be under the umbrella, too. The Game Boy disappeared into one of his pockets, and he put on his hoodie. There are bandages on your neck. What the hell have you done?

“Go.” Dazai tapped his shoulder. “Move.”

“Shut up. You didn’t wanna come.”

He held out a finger to pry on the gifts. “Is that food?”

Doppo pulled away the bag from the thief. “Ask if you want some.”

“I don’t.”

With their eyes, they followed a car down the avenue. Then, they crossed.

Dazai was half a step behind. He didn’t try to touch the bag anymore. His steps were quiet, even in the puddles, however on Earth he did it. Doppo couldn’t see him, not even looking aside. His grim presence wouldn’t fade.

“By my side, please,” Doppo said.

Nothing.

Hmm, bad sign. Dazai had a knife for sure. This “gloomy” type always does. The odds increased if he had no family, or would rather not have one. I have nothing of value with me. He doesn’t know if I do. That’s the problem.

“You shouldn’t have called me,” Dazai said.

Hold up.

Doppo stopped walking and turned around. “What?”

“I was gonna jump in the river.” Dazai had his hands in his pockets. “I’d be soaked anyway.”

This goofball won’t stab me. I’m going to punch him first.

“It’s said and done.” Doppo twisted his lips. I almost regret it. “Why do you wanna kill yourself?”

Dazai looked away to a passing minivan, quietly ignoring him. He heard very well.

Saturday had been a good day. Sunday seemed about to be ruined. Bad luck didn’t exist, but setbacks did. Dazai was definitely one of those.

I hate setbacks.

“If you’re not gonna say it, then, enough.” Doppo tilted his head to the way. “Let’s—”

The gale cut him short.

His hand gripped the umbrella. For a second, his heart didn’t beat. Close call.

“‘Let’s’ what?” Dazai asked, covering his face from the wind.

Doppo scanned the place. They needed shelter, and they needed it quickly. Across the street was good. There. Over there.

“No cars now,” Doppo said. “Let’s go.”

He crossed, ignoring everything. It was a double-lane, split by a slippery patch of grass. Don’t care if I get dirty. I’ll survive. The cake will not.

If Dazai followed? Maybe? I called him. If he wants to get drenched, that’s his problem.

He followed.

The entrance of a rosy building was their hideout. Besides the marquee, a sunshade warded off the downpour. There were neat plant pots around. No one in their right mind would leave through those sliding doors. At best, a poor soul would arrive home. So, staying there was fine.

Doppo closed the umbrella and shook it. The cake was doing well. It worked. Dazai pretended to not be there, shriveled up in his hoodie. He came with me, at least.

Under the marquee, a security cam surveilled them. Doppo returned its stare. His dad had commented years prior. “They’re like fungi. They’ve been popping everywhere. Suddenly, and no one knows where they came from.”

Fungi, he had said. Not animals, not plants. Its own existence, a ghostly one, detached from the rest. He doesn’t choose words at random.

Maybe Doppo had started spotting those cameras after that talk. Or, indeed, they were everywhere. Whatever it was, mechanical eyes spying on people were no delight. Staring back at them as if they were creatures wouldn’t get them out. But noticing them was better than nothing.

Storms chased away the heat to the point it didn’t feel like summer. Doppo’s shelter was his plaid long-sleeve. It was open, over a beaten T-shirt. Light layers for a cool afternoon, as it should be.

He glanced at Dazai, who acted as if he was alone. That hoodie looks glued to you.

“What’s up?” Doppo asked.

“What do you want?”

“Why the silence?”

“I wanted to kill myself.” Dazai stared back for only a moment. “You stopped me.”

“I don’t think I did.” But if I did, then, great.

“Can I?”

“No.”

“See?”

“And how’s that ‘being a nuisance’?” Doppo side-eyed him. “I saved your life.”

“You bring it up a lot for someone who doesn’t care.” Dazai had a smartass tone. “Wanna die with me?”

“Huh?!”

“Double suicide. Haven’t heard of it?”

“Of course I have. Of course I don’t want that.”

“Oh.” Dazai lost his grin. “Too bad.”

“How hard is it to notice I’m here?”

“I wanna die,” Dazai said. “I don’t want to notice anyone.”

Nutcase. Idiot. Rude, annoying maniac, with that obnoxious suicidal talk. Doppo took the deepest breath he could. If my umbrella was unbreakable, you’d know it from up close.

He’d have said it all in times past. He’d done it. “If it’s right, then why not?” he used to think. My anger has the right time… right place, right target. I try. I swear I do.

Exhaling, also as slowly as possible, lit up the flame of doubt. Wait. I think I’ve asked the wrong question.

Why do you wanna die?

The sentence almost escaped his lips. Dazai pulled out the Game Boy again. He pressed buttons on top of buttons. That wasn’t a concentrated guy. He was just shut away on his own planet.

You don’t wanna tell me that…?

Doppo relaxed his arm. The plastic bag was hanging by his side. Well… there’s only not asking all the time. He watched the puddles fill and overflow. Without a shower like that, he could leave. With or without an apology, depending on his mood.

No… it’s not just the rain making me stay.

People attempted suicide all the time. Or did they? It was shocking enough, repeating over and over, to the point it seemed so. It could be that — just shock. But if it really happened all the time…

It was often an illicit whisper about it. Most of them were about other people’s business. Never their own, never respectfully. If they survive, they’re a “coward”.

“How old are you?” Doppo tried.

“Fourteen.”

“Me too.”

Doppo gripped tighter on the umbrella. We’d be classmates.

There was a story, possibly a rumor. Ten to fifteen years prior, a girl had jumped from the school building. She survived with many broken bones. Before she was discharged from the hospital, she was forced back into class. Strict parents or something.

She was… “successful” shortly after, in the women’s restroom near the sports court. Whoever dared to enter could hear a long lament. I didn’t go there myself. I don’t want to. Better off without it.

In any case, the school building had a safety net on the roof.

“Why?” Dazai said.

Could he do something about it? “Nothing.”

Maybe I could. Or can. For that, he needed a plan, and it had to be soon. Think.

“Where are you sleeping?” Doppo asked.

“In the river.”

“If you spend the night alive.”

“Why would I tell you?”

Because I asked. “Then don’t. When was your last meal?”

“Dunno.”

“You don’t?” Doppo frowned. “You got amnesia, or…?”

“Maybe I’ll starve to death.”

He’s thin, that’s true. Doppo checked the bag. There was nothing he could just give away. He could pick a strawberry from the cake at best. With dirty, wet hands, that was a horrible idea. Not to mention, I can drop it. No way.

“Can you stop playing for a sec?” Doppo requested.

“No.”

“Just a suggestion. So?”

“I don’t want to.”

I think I’m gonna beat him up. I can buy another umbrella. “Fine.” Doppo sighed. “Okay.”

I don’t have a plan, after all.

He closed his eyes, perceiving the rainfall. The occasional thunder, the endless buttons. Mental images of all sorts came and went. Honing one’s focus on “here and now” took an entire life or longer, or so he’d been told. Perfection was an impossible goal, one to chase after regardless.

That’s curious. A passing conclusion got him to grin. You treat me poorly, complain, and are all edge with me, but you’re still there.

I can’t judge. He reopened his eyes. I’m still here, too.

“What’s so funny?” Dazai asked.

A giggle escaped him. It could’ve been bitter, but wasn’t. “Nothing,” Doppo said.

The vortex of buttons slowed down. Dazai insisted on a single one, on a steady rhythm, till he stopped.

“The battery’s dead,” Dazai muttered.

Doppo stared at him, thinking of nothing in particular. Dazai huffed and put the Game Boy away. He looked at wherever else, hands in his pockets. Now, you’ll have to avoid me for real.

“My condolences,” Doppo said.

I didn’t even see what game it was. Guess he lost progress… Poor guy.

“It’s your fault,” Dazai complained.

“Excuse me?”

Dazai scratched the patch on his cheek. “Nothing.”

“Don’t touch the wound.”

“Huh?” Dazai covered the gauze with his hand. “Gimme a break.”

“You need another patch for that.” Doppo turned to him. “Can you do it?”

“Of course.”

“Then, that one wasn’t you.” Doppo frowned. “It looks awful.”

Dazai looked away, with a long face. He insisted on covering the patch. Doppo side-eyed him again. A drop of blood went down the saturated fabric.

Hey. The spark of an idea came to him. That’s it. Now, I do have a plan.

“I can patch that up,” Doppo said.

“Why?”

“My mom made me learn, kinda.” He shrugged. “‘If you wanna get in trouble, then fix it yourself.”

Dazai agreed without much interest, staring at the sidewalk. Not that you looked any happy. Why do you look sadder, though?

“I live nearby. Sort of,” Doppo commented. “If you wanna drop by—”

“No.”

“Will you let me speak?” Doppo raised his voice. “My parents won’t be home till later.”

Dazai regained his pesky grin. “What a call, huh.”

“It is a call. You can eat, dry your clothes… take a bath, even. I have new batteries. Yours are dead, right?”

“Can I not go?”

“Sure. Then you stay dirty, hungry, cold, and with dead batteries.”

“Inviting a stranger home, when no one’s there…” Dazai removed his hand from the patch. His grin was unchanged. “Just say what you want.”

“To help?”

“Yeah…”

He won’t believe me. Dazai put his bloodstained hand under the waterfall. The puddle was red for a moment, under the endless stream.

“You’ll only help me if you let me die.”

“No way. Don’t touch that patch again.”

“It isn’t safe.” Dazai abandoned the grin. Fully sober, he stared back with the only appearing eye. “You don’t know who I am.”

“Every acquaintance was a stranger once.”

“Feel like meeting everyone?”

“No, that’s impossible.”

“Good choice.” Dazai looked to the other side and shook off his wet hand. “It’d be a disappointment.”

What a tiresome chat. “Are you coming or not?” Doppo insisted. “As soon as the rain abates.”

“Don’t people call you stubborn?”

Doppo couldn’t help but laugh. “You have no idea.”

It used to be more often. He glanced at the heavy rain. Other people notice when we change. We usually don’t. But I did, in that case.

“I don’t know who you are,” Doppo admitted, “nor do I need to.”

Dazai pretended not to listen, till he said, “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. I mean…” I could’ve phrased it better. “It’s not that ‘I don’t care’. It’s the opposite.”

If you won’t say it, I won’t ask. I mean to help. That’s all.

“Weirdo,” Dazai whispered.

“Hm?” I heard it well. But I dare you.

“The rain won’t stop.”

Could I convince you? “It’ll pass.”

“I haven’t died yet.”

Oh, come on.

Praying wouldn’t hurt. He tried closing his eyes and putting his hands together. Please let today be so full of sunlight, just like the beautiful dream that I had…? Dunno. I don’t even have a teru teru bozu to hang. He glanced at Dazai. Doppo chuckled. I shouldn’t give him ideas.

Without the game, Dazai had to make do with stepping on a puddle at a pace. As if hypnotized, he watched the water spread and return. You’re not mad at me, are you? Not for real.

Dazai stepped on the puddle, harder the last time. “I wanna die.”

That’ll pass too… eventually.

Doppo raised his eyes to the sunshade. Staring made him hear better. The noise is quieter. He carefully opened the umbrella; it had to be quiet. In a controlled movement, he straightened his back. The food held close to his body. The handle, in the same hand as the bag. The other hand had to be free. Soon.

A red drop fell on Dazai’s hoodie. It’d leave no stain. He touched the patch to scratch it again. Now.

Doppo grabbed his wrist. “Let’s go.”

“Huh?!”

“Come with me!”

Doppo pulled and ran.

“Wait!”, “Hey, let me go!”… Details, just details. Dazai was behind him, partially under the umbrella.

Lavish buildings were squeezed side by side. Tiny shops were between them. The owners, under their sunshades, bemoaned the weather. They crossed, not looking to the sides or anywhere else. Nameless, deserted streets.

He couldn’t let go of that guy.

Another river crossed the city. A viaduct was over it, and a bridge, too. A few stairsteps slowed them.

“Are you crazy?!” Dazai cried at the steps. “What’s your problem—”

“You have a knife.” Doppo stared back. Dazai closed his half-open mouth. “If you won’t come, use it.”

His defiance fell apart, washed by the rain. If you didn’t want to, you’d have used it already. Doppo tightened the grip on his wrist. Isn’t that so?

He dragged Dazai by the bridge.

Another staircase, but a descending one; another silence, of another type. The downpour rinsed the bothersome layer of dust from that district. Things made of steel, glass, and luxury were to be polished. Those were not. Too busy paying the bills. Priorities.

There was no sidewalk; just a lane painted on the asphalt. A recent board indicated a school zone. I gotta review this week and the rest… Plans for the class were drafted, but required a second look. I hope there’s time.

The quiet shadow was, finally, by his side.

“Too late,” Doppo said. “There’s one block left.”

Dazai was breathing heavily. His head was low, but he looked ahead. Don’t act upset now. It’s your fault.

They turned right at the parking lot. The weather beat the parked bikes, his one included. The cars, however, were doing fine.

Turning around the building, they lived to the right. Their apartment was the only one downstairs. It had few windows, which a broad balcony tried to compensate for. Its view was to a boring wall and shrubs.

The marquee to the entrance protected very little. The doormat was wet like the bottom rail of the door. Because of a gust, probably.

“Hold this.” Doppo handed the bag. “I’ll get the keys.”

Dazai hesitated, staring at the door. “You’re not letting go?”

“I’m not.”

If he flees now… The opening was minimal, but existed. Dunno. I tried. I did what I could.

Dazai sighed and got the bag.

The keys were in his shirt pocket. The umbrella handle forced him into juggling two jobs. Damn it, I hate setbacks. Tapping around, he chose the key and they entered.

Doppo didn’t greet anyone. Alone till seven, at least. He panted. The door was shut with a body slam. Done. I made it. By his side, Dazai panted too. Doppo couldn’t see him, or anything else. The weather banished all the light inside.

“Ah, damn. I came in with the umbrella,” Doppo complained. “I’ll have to mop up the water.”

“Here.”

“Huh?” Doppo recognized the rustle of the plastic bag. He left the umbrella on the floor and held out a hand. “Thanks—”

“Let me go first.”

Even in the dark, they exchanged looks. Fair enough. Doppo let go of his arm. Dazai backed off, pulling his arm away, and returned the bag.

Doppo tapped on the light switch by the entrance. He left the bag on the shoe rack. Time to untie his shoelaces and fold the hem of his jeans, hating every moment. It’s all soaked and dirty. Even my jeans. What the hell. Dazai also took his shoes off, as grumpy as the eye could see.

“What’s wrong now?” Doppo asked.

“My wrist hurts.”

“You kept pulling it.” Doppo hung his long-sleeved shirt on a hook. The T-shirt had come out of it all dry. “Would it hurt to just tag along?”

“Explaining is pointless.” Dazai sounded insolent again. “You wouldn’t understand. Not in a million years.”

“New way to call me stupid.”

“You might not be dumb.” Dazai shrugged. “Just a spoiled kid with a good life.”

Enough.

Just in case, with utmost patience, Doppo locked them there. He slammed his fist on the door. “Listen. Up for a new bruise?”

Dazai just stared back without a peep. He was half a head shorter.

“You could’ve stabbed me. Taunt me outside. In my home? No. That’s your last chance. I’ll let you leave.” Doppo relaxed his fist. “Will you?”

Dazai looked down to the floor with his single eye. Nothing. Fine lines, tears, trembling; not a “yes”, not a “no”, not even “sorry”.

“Tone it down,” Doppo finished. “If you please.”

Dazai took off his hoodie and hung it. His belongings rattled in his pockets. The Game Boy and who knows what else. The white long-sleeve shirt, now exposed, had a fresh blood stain on one shoulder.

Doppo checked the desk clock beside the bag. “It’s four o’clock sharp.”

“So?”

“There’s time. You can do all you need. The rain will stop till seven, I guess.”

“You go, Ororo.”

“Let’s wish and wait.”

It’d be cool to have Storm’s power, though. Has he seen the movie? Dazai fiddled with something by the waist of his jeans. You’re not undressing here, are you? There was a belt with a sheath, and from there, came a knife handle. Called it.

“Wanna take a look?” Dazai showed it. “It’s retractable.”

If you’re offering… He got the knife. An obvious button, red on a black handle, showed the blade.

“It’s a long handle,” Doppo said, “to this short blade.”

“Smarter than a cop.” Hey, my dad was one for a while. Not that he wanted to, but… Dazai chuckled. He dried his feet on a mop. “Mind the black button.”

What button? He checked all angles of the knife. Said button was deeper and on the opposite side of the red one. He pressed it. Nothing happened.

“Press both,” Dazai said. This way? The blade doubled in length. Scary. “It’s twelve centimeters.”

“Isn’t that double the legal length?”

“How do you know that?”

My dad was a cop once… and no comment. “Ever been in a street fight?”

“I avoid those.” Dazai got up and got the knife back to leave in the hoodie. “Have you?”

“Not these days.”

“Why did you get into those?”

“Everything.” Doppo kneeled to dry his feet. “It’s good to know who has a knife.”

And who has an illegal one. Dazai agreed, caring very little. I didn’t lie, though.

The wind splashed water on the outside. The door seal did an outstanding job. Instead of abating, the rain is heavier. We’re stuck here for a while.

Still crouching, Doppo cleaned the mess they’d made. He looked up. Dazai had his gaze lost in the living room. He looks even thinner without a jacket.

“Right.” Doppo put on his slippers. “The first step is laundry. The second one is your bath.”

“My what?”

Doppo pointed at the red shoulder on his shirt. “Take a look.”

“It’s just a stain.”

A blood one?! “One I can get out if we’re quick. The bathroom is to your right.”

Dazai opened the door. The first section had a sink, a mirror, and a washing machine. The shower and bathtub were behind a half-open plastic door. Dazai skipped inside to investigate.

Doppo entered next, switching to the bathroom slippers. Whoops. His dad had an old-school shaving razor. Dazai read the buttons on the washing machine; good time to get that out of the sink. No blades for you. Doppo put it in his pocket. Not when I can see it.

“I’ll go,” Dazai said. “But keep out.”

“Of where? The bathtub?” Doppo blinked in disbelief. “We don’t even fit there.”

Why would I shower with you? It’s not a public bathhouse, and I don’t even know you. Dazai took off his belt and dropped it on the floor.

“I’ll have to do laundry,” Doppo argued. “Yours included.”

Dazai opened the shower door wider. “Just keep out.” He shut the door.

Okay.

Doppo returned to the entrance. Socks, sneakers, my shirt… His hoodie has stuff inside his pockets. Among the findings, were a full coin purse, a cheap lighter, a ball pen, and a comb missing a few teeth. No documents. Everything went into a paper bag with the Game Boy and the knife.

The dirty clothes were already in the washing machine. Soon, it started filling up. Washing the sneakers with the rest is gross, but… it’s an urgent matter. Of life and death. It took him a second to not laugh. That’s gallows humor.

The first-aid kit was in the cabinet under the sink. Antiseptic, cotton balls, tweezers, gauze, balm… Opening it was wistful; “how so” was an unanswered question. I really got into all types of fights.

The last one took something from him. No lives, no body parts. But a person from his everyday life, and that hurt enough. No one died. It’s no use moping around.

“I can patch you up later,” Doppo said.

“You don’t have to.”

“Didn’t ask. Did you heat the water?”

“Yeah.”

“Turn on the shower, then.”

“Quit bossing me around.”

We’ve been three months without a fistfight incident. Doppo exhaled slowly. The previous record is three months. “The reason for taking forever being…?”

“I’m busy.”

“With what?”

No reply. Doppo perked up his ears. There’s a rustling sound… His bandages, I guess. It wasn’t the best conclusion to draw, whatever the case was.

“Be right back,” Doppo said. “Don’t get in the tub with clothes on.”

Nor bandages.

“I know how to shower,” Dazai replied.

The previous record is three months. Doppo left the laundry room, and the door stayed open. Let’s keep the record.

The new groceries were outside the fridge; they shouldn’t be. The cake was more untouched than expected. Doppo washed his hands in the kitchen sink to steal the best-looking strawberry. I deserve it, after all… this.

Dazai would need something clean to wear. Doppo found an old set of pajamas in the closet. It was likely a bigger size, but it’d have to do. He returned and knocked on the shower door.

“I got you clothes—”

“Out.”

Doppo gave the door the stinky eye, even if it wasn’t to blame. He sighed. “I’m not coming in. You good over there?”

“Uh-huh.”

Why do I smell a liar? “Is one of my towels ok? I’ve used it once.”

“Whatever.”

The towel in question was dry on a hanger. He folded it on top of the lent clothes. With one hand on the knob, he said. “I’ll leave it—”

“Don’t open the door!”

Doppo froze. I’ll have to count to the hundreds and past. “I’m not coming in. Get these things, please.”

What a drag. Time wasted down the drain, with the shower off.

“Close your eyes,” Dazai said.

“Why, tho?”

“Not to see.”

“The door isn’t that transparent.”

“Close them”

Doppo put his hand on his temple. He was on the edge of a headache. I’d better just be hungry. He did as he was told. “Done. What now?”

The door opened. The pile of clothes vanished from his hand, and the closing slam pierced his eardrums.

“I said I’d keep out,” Doppo complained. “What do you take me for?”

“No clue.”

…That’s true. He heard the bathtub filling up. Doppo glanced at the washing machine, already spinning. He opened his mouth to ask about Dazai’s clothes, but gave up. They were piled up at his feet. I didn’t even see that leave the shower.

Doppo crouched to pick them up. Nothing that smelled particularly bad, despite the dusty touch. Just the shirt had a bright red stain from the open wound on Dazai’s cheek. There were bandages, endless meters of it, with sections stained in dried blood.

The shower was on. He shook his head to dismiss all questions. Dazai’s clothes went in the washing machine with the others, and that was it.

“Do you want new bandages?” Doppo asked.

“Do you have them?!”

“Yeah…?” I don’t offer what I don’t have. He threw the old bandages in a plastic bag. “I used to need them… see.”

“Are you giving me those? Really?” Dazai asked, thrilled like a kid. Are you happy about that? That’s, uh… “Thank you. I’ll put your name in my suicide note.”

Yikes. “Don’t mention…” Doppo cut himself short. I have an idea. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” By his tone, Dazai had an evil grin.

“I’ll patch up the bruise on your cheek.”

“No fun allowed, aren’t you?”

“Take it or leave it.”

What did you think I’d ask?

By the sound of it, Dazai was rinsing his hair. “When I get in the tub…” he said.

“Hm?”

“You can come in.”

All that “keep out” thing to ask for company now. “I’m not taking a bath with you.”

“No, not that. Just… come in. Sit on the stool.”

“That goes into the patch-up thing, or no deal.”

“Don’t open the curtains.”

“Yes or no?”

The time passed, round and round, till Dazai turned off the shower. “Fine, do it.”

One nil in my favor. Doppo sniffed the place. That’s the scent of my mom’s hair products… If he used them all, I’m screwed.

The movement sounds in the bathroom were ordinary. Objects put back into place, a satisfied groan from a stretch of the back. Dazai also entered the bathtub and closed the curtains. At any time, he’ll give me the sign to…

“Can I kill myself in the tub?” Dazai asked.

“No fucking way! How am I gonna break it to my parents?” Doppo yelled. “‘So, there’s a dead body in the tub. It was this kinda strange guy I met today.’”

“Ah.” Dazai’s spirits were down. By the sound, he dipped further in the water. “Sorry.”

“No need to…” Doppo took a moment to know what to say. Such a scary talk. “Just… don’t do anything. Right?”

No answer. No greenlight, no entering.

Then, a gloomy, “Why?”

Is it so hard to get? “I don’t want you to die. Or get hurt,” Doppo said. “That’s it.”

“Will you let me if I want to?”

“No.”

“Lame. Let me. No one cares.”

Hey, I do. His head was spinning a little. Fifty percent hunger, fifty percent losing my mind. “Let’s make another deal.”

“Ask for something interesting now.”

“Anyway.” Do I mention that? “Let’s suppose I can give you something. Anything. But tomorrow.”

“I’m supposing.”

“About the size of… a can of coffee, or a glass. Or your knife.”

“Cool,” Dazai commented. “Are you buying that?”

“Sort of.” Doppo scratched his head. Okay, talking about it is bizarre. “In exchange for not dying today, what would you ask for?”

“Lots of money.”

“Hey, that’s illegal.”

“You said anything.” Dazai played with the water in the bathtub, from one side to another. “Are you getting it from someone?”

“That’s illegal as well.”

“What about it?”

“I’m not stealing. It’s just… a gift. I’ll make you a gift. Does that make sense?”

“A handmade one?”

“Not exactly. It’s… magic. Will that do?”

Shit. It sounds like a lie. I sound like a stupid case of chuunibyou. He already is a stupid case of chuunibyou. He’ll make fun of me in three… two… one.

“Like a hidden power,” Dazai said.

“Yeah.” Doppo’s cheeks were burning. “Like that.”

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“You didn’t call me.”

“I did, though. ‘When I get in the tub’… and all.” Dazai moved in the water. “You can.”

My jeans are going to get… Idiot. They’re already wet. I didn’t even get changed. Totally forgot that. He opened the shower door, saying, “Excuse me.”

The curtains were indeed closed. The silhouette was behind the thin plastic. Dazai was quiet even in his breathing. With the still water, he’d look dead there, like in a horror flick. How creepy.

Doppo dragged the stool up to the bathtub. He sat with his back to it.

“A hidden power to create things…” Dazai sounded as if he was talking to himself. “And a gift in exchange for not dying today.”

“And not hurting yourself.”

“Are you this poor of a liar?”

It’s not a lie! How do I tell you without sounding stupid?

“How about you make me a strong poison?” Dazai suggested. “One that kills me quickly and painlessly. I’ll take it tomorrow.”

“And of what use is that?”

“‘Today’ lasts till midnight.”

“That’s not quite it.” Enough, please?

“Of course it is. A day is twenty-four hours long.”

“First, I can’t make things I’ve never seen. Second, I wouldn’t create poison for you. Not even if I could.”

“Laaame.”

No, I just don’t want to help you die.

“I know that…” Think, Doppo. You’re usually good at it. “I make things. Almost out of nowhere. Using paper.”

“Origami?”

“Uh, no. A pen, too… y’know?”

“An attraction spell?”

“No!” Doppo stuttered. “Not even I know how it works, it’s… a mystery.”

“Hmm…” Dazai pondered indefinitely, rocking to the sides, a pendulum in the water. “Too good to be true.”

That’s how it feels. Too good to be true. “The first time was in… third grade.” Damn, it sounds like forever ago. “I wanted a specific Gundam. A rich guy from my class had it. Then, I came down with a bad, bad cold. I didn’t go to class for three days or so. I had this journaling homework. You know?”

“Things coming from paper… is that it?”

“What I write in it. In that case, I drew it and forgot about it. Then, in school… The Gundam was there. It appeared inside my notebook, in my backpack. The sheet with the drawing was gone.”

“Wasn’t it a prank?”

“I thought the same thing.” Doppo giggled. “I was gonna talk to the guy during break… the rich one. He had his Gundam there, too.”

“So, it wasn’t him.”

“Right. Actually… I did ask him. He was loaded. To the point he could’ve bought it and put it there. No one in that class would give me presents, though.”

“Why not?”

Doppo sighed. “I gave them good reasons.”

No one liked me. In my current school, no one does either. No way in hell I’m telling you that.

“It wasn’t someone else, then,” Dazai affirmed.

“No one. Not even my parents. I did more tests.” Doppo crossed his arms again. “In summary, any piece of paper works. I made an eraser with a store receipt. Pencils, pens, even color pencils… it doesn’t matter.”

“Does it take too long?”

“About seven hours… but it’s tiring.”

“Oh. Do those things expire?”

“No. I still have many.”

“Any useless one?”

“A plastic fork. One of my tests.” Doppo frowned. “Why?”

“That one. It’s my gift.”

“Don’t you want anything better? It has a broken tine.”

“That’s my choice.”

“All right.” He gave up on suicide for the day, at least. And on the poison. Just not on being strange. “Why?”

“I like those things.”

“It’s a useless, disposable good. It matches the solitude in me.” He’d say that.

“I don’t get tired if I write and go to bed. The object is ready by the morning. Otherwise, I’ll be weak for the day. As if I were hungry.”

“Do you care?”

“About being hungry? Sure thing. Don’t you?”

“No.”

I’m not surprised. He can’t even remember when he ate. “Can I suggest another thing?”

“You do like your deals…”

“Dunno what the problem is. Wanna stay for dinner?”

“What are you giving me in return?”

“Huh? I’m serving you food. Offer something yourself.”

“I don’t feel like eating. For a good prize, however, I’ll do my best,” Dazai said. I’ll throw a bar of soap in your eye. “What’s the special of the day?”

It’s not a restaurant. “Rice? Salad? Regular dinner food.”

“Is cake on the menu?”

“Cake isn’t dinner.”

“Why not?”

“Do you think I live on my own? Everyone gets their share,” Doppo said. “No dinner means no cake for you.”

He doesn’t have to find out there are two cakes.

“You’re that type, huh…” Dazai whined. “See? That’s why you have no friends. Nobody likes—”

“Do you?”

Silence. I have one, but nevermind. You don’t have to know that. Doppo looked over his shoulder. The curtains were all he saw.

“I’ll get out of the tub,” Dazai said. I’ve hit a nerve. Good. Watch your tongue next time. “Gimme the bandages.”

“Got it. Don’t drain the water.”

“Keep out.”

“I’ve figured, and won’t come in.” Doppo got up. “One sec.”

He left and closed the shower door. The first-aid kit remained open. Two packages with four rolls each…

“How many do you need?” Doppo asked. “There are eight rolls.”

“All of them.”

“All of them?!”

That’s fifteen meters or so! He’d seen neck, face, and wrist bandages. It cost chicken feed, but that was far from being the issue. Do you wear them all over?

“Just give me,” Dazai said, “I’ll see what I do.”

“What for?”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Doppo left the bandages on the bathroom mat.

He dragged out the conversation, if he thinks I’m lying. On his way to the kitchen, Doppo turned on the lights. He tapped on his pocket just in case. The shaving razor was still there. If he believed me or not… no idea.

The rice cooker was on the “heating” option. He’d gotten a Napa cabbage earlier. It’d become salad, with carrots, mayo, and kanikama from the fridge. Even if focused on cleaning, peeling, and cutting, Doppo kept alert. I locked the door, the key’s here, but you never know.

The rain was harsh, with no signs of stopping. A quarter to five on the clock on top of the TV. He hadn’t seen the time when leaving the bathroom. It seemed long ago. I have to redo the patch. Doppo washed his hands and knocked on the bathroom door three times.

“Come in,” Dazai said.

Doppo opened it. Dazai stood in front of the sink. He’d put on the new bandages exactly like the older ones. He was already wearing pajamas over them, a long-sleeve and pants set, both in shades of green. Dazai examined a plastic mesh, pinching it between his fingers. That should be in a glass bowl over there.

“It looks edible.” Dazai twirled the mesh, intrigued by the content. “Why is this here?”

“Because it’s soap.”

“It smells like fruit.”

“And tastes like soap.” Are you this hungry?

“Why are these in cute shapes? The strawberry one is a seashell.”

“Just because? You can make it in any shape.” I hope you haven’t… tried any. “My mom makes those and sells them.”

Dazai hummed in mesmerized agreement. Wait right there… There were six of those. I see only five.

“I can give you one,” Doppo said.

“Gifts to people who are going to die soon are stupid.”

He didn’t confess, refuse, or thank me. Doppo could make a scene or stop him, with a disastrous outcome. Yeah, whatever. It’s cheap, and only I will notice.

Doppo got the first-aid kit. “Come here.”

Dazai left the mesh with bars of soap on the sink. He refused, staring back in silence. I’ll drag you again if you start shit. They left the bathroom.

They sat on the couch, one seat apart. It was in front of the coffee table and the TV. That one wound on Dazai’s cheek was a scabless bruise. It didn’t look infected, even from afar. I believe he cleaned it, but just in case…

“If it burns, grit your teeth.” If it burns, not my problem. Doppo got the cotton ball wet in antiseptic. “It could be worse.”

“Alcohol?”

“No, ugh. I’m not a monster.” He held out the tweezers with the cotton ball. “Excuse me.”

No one moved for a moment. Doppo dragged himself to the side. There goes.

Dazai flinched to the touch. “That hurts.”

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you hadn’t scratched it.”

“I would’ve killed myself if you hadn’t been there.”

Good thing I was, then. “Dying isn’t a cure-all.” Doppo pulled the tweezers away. “Don’t move.”

Dazai relaxed. A break in his defiance, saving the complaints for later. His cheek wasn’t the biggest question mark. By the way, where to even start…? If Doppo planned on asking.

He flipped the cotton ball to apply the healing balm. That one didn’t burn. Dazai didn’t react.

Only a new patch was left to do. A piece of gauze folded a few times would do, together with adhesive plaster to hold it. Doppo rummaged through the kit. Mom was the last one to use this. That explains a lot. I’ll take care of it later.

In the corner of his eye, Dazai tried to get up.

“How about you chill?” Doppo held him by the shoulder. “The worst part is over.”

“Let me go.”

“Don’t gimme trouble.” He pushed Dazai down back into his seat, staring with the meanest eye. “That’s your last warning.”

Dazai sat down.

“Hold the edges.” Doppo positioned the gauze. “Don’t press it.”

Nothing changed. Dazai stared at the table. Get mad all you want. You can’t do shit without your knife.

“You might not care if you’re hungry, but I do,” Doppo said. “And I’m hungry.”

“Drop it.”

“Don’t try me. This can go the hard way.”

Dazai exhaled, his anger simmering, and pressed the edges of the gauze with one hand. There were just two straps of adhesive plaster to apply and tear in the markings.

“Done. Don’t scratch it again.” Doppo put the roll back into the box, closed it, and got up. “I’ll go cook.”

I’d ask for help if it didn’t involve knives. He washed his hands in the kitchen sink. The TV was then on, visible from over the sink itself. By the noise, Dazai got cozy on the couch.

Doppo put the salad in a bowl. The early dinner should be neutral, but interesting. Salt and sesame seeds did their job. One single frozen croquette was out to thaw. I’ll give him a bite if he wants.

Heating water for miso soup gave him poached egg ideas. In any case, it’d take a while, and there were dishes to do. There are always dishes to do. These things multiply on their own. Wash it, then, before the food started smelling too good.

Doppo got clean bowls for two. His stomach was growling, demanding cake from the previous and the current day. The TV was bugging him, zapping through channels. Dazai switched to the next one in a matter of seconds. He’d better stay entertained.

“You busy?” Dazai asked.

I spoke too soon. “Yes. Why? I don’t look busy?”

“Just wondering.”

He’s so inconvenient. Doppo got the ingredients for miso in the fridge. Annoying when he talks, concerning when he’s quiet. I don’t know what’s worse. He exhaled to focus on the food. The croquette wasn’t fried, the eggs weren’t done, nor was the soup.

“When he’s quiet…” What had Dazai told him? Or shown? Not a lot.

If that was his actual name, it likely wasn’t his first name. They were the same age. Dunno if I buy that. Big, if true. Dazai was a black belt in pressing buttons, nagging, and playing dumb.

He’d moaned about being in pain a lot. He’d also scratched his cheek as a nervous tic, till it bled. Finally, he wanted to die. A choice with huge potential for anguish. It doesn’t seem logical, but it is. When I think about it.

If you hurt yourself, that’s fine. Right? I cannot.

The supreme boundary between mind and tongue was only one. Do I really wanna know what’s wrong?

On the surface level, yes, he did. With the full overview, the solution would become clear. On second thought, though…

Dazai ignored the cold and hunger. He wasn’t the first, the last, or the only young guy in the streets. The tangled meters of bandages weren’t spot-on snitches, but didn’t lie, either. Doesn’t seem like he’s gonna tell me anything. Even if I’d listen.

“Zatch Bell will be on TV,” Dazai said.

“Do you watch that?”

“When I can.”

I figured. There’s no private TV on the streets, and it’s a Sunday show… Doppo left the eggs on a dish. The croquette needed to be flipped around.

“I don’t eat while watching TV,” Doppo said, “but I can bend that rule.”

No answer. You want it, don’t you? Why won’t you ask?

The eggs were cooked. There was miso paste to dissolve and the croquette to turn golden brown. A sieve and spoon did the first part. He took the bowls, chopsticks, and rice cooker to the table. It’s early, but I don’t care.

“Hey, wake up,” Doppo called. “It’s ready.”

He went back into the kitchen for the last few things. Another quiet moment. Did he sleep for real? I was kidding. Doppo left the salad on the table and looked over the back of the couch.

Dazai was lying on the couch. His head was on a cushion. The bandaged side of his head was down; his new patch was up. Which one would hurt more, I wonder? He’d left the remote on the table. His sole eye out stared back, after a moment ignoring Doppo. He looks comfortable.

“What now?” Doppo asked. “You’ve heard me.”

“Let’s die together.”

“What? No. I’ve said… Look. That’s a bit… unsettling. You know that, right?”

“You could’ve changed your mind.”

“You don’t tell that to someone you met today.” To no one, ever, actually. “Let’s eat.”

“I won’t see you again.”

I’m so hungry I could eat the table. Gotta get this conversation moving.

“I didn’t mention that earlier,” Doppo said, “but there’s another cake in the fridge.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. It’s lemon cake. My birthday was yesterday.”

“Happy birthday.”

Thanks? “I’ll give you one piece of each. Just don’t ask me to die with you anymore.” Doppo tilted his head to the table. “Let’s go.”

Dazai didn’t look back at him. He’d apologized for his atrocious behavior once by then… and looked like he’d do it a second time.

As if nothing had happened, he asked, “Can I have cake?”

You idiot. “As a dessert.”

“Do you want a present?”

“I’ve gotten one.”

What would you give me? You can’t even afford to eat.

“I’ll give you the idea, and you’ll make it.” Dazai got up. “With your hidden power and stuff.”

Oh, he 100% thinks I lied. “Yeah… Who knows, huh.”

They went to the table. Doppo’s usual chair had its back to the kitchen. Dazai sat by his side, on the chair no one really used. Makes sense. We’re gonna watch the episode.

“There you go,” Doppo said. “Rice, salad, eggs, soup. The croquette is—”

“I’m thirsty.”

Could’ve said that before I sat. Doppo huffed. “Water?”

“Energy drink.”

“There’s none.” That doesn’t quench the thirst.

“Soft drinks? Juice?”

“None either.” This is a household, not a restaurant. “Only iced tea.”

“Coffee, then.”

“Who has coffee with dinner?” Doppo got up. “Serve your food. Suit yourself.”

Tea was a good idea. The jug filled two glasses with a few ice cubes. The movement by the table, however, sounded suspicious.

“As I was saying,” Doppo scolded when he was back, “before you interrupted me… That croquette is mine.”

Dazai peeked over his shoulder. He didn’t reply; he only chewed. The croquette was missing a bite and between his chopsticks.

Doppo set one glass on the table, staring menacingly. “Anything to say?”

“It’s crispy.”

This guy… “When it belongs to other people, you should ask.” Doppo drank tea. “No one taught you that?”

“I asked for cake and energy drinks. You didn’t give me those.”

“Not how that works, sorry.”

“I didn’t know this was yours.”

“You should’ve let me finish speaking.” He set another glass on the table. “I’ll make another one.”

“You told me to suit myself.”

“Not like that.”

It’s fine, though. He needs it more than me. Doppo found another croquette and turned on the stove under the frying pan. Does it hurt to apologize? The consolation prize was another strawberry, stolen from the cake. Back to the dishes, all there was to do was think.

He’d beaten up all sorts of good-for-nothings. Rich pricks, gangster wannabes, sons of politicians, bored guys looking for a thrill. Even all of the alternatives. I can spot a troublemaker with one look. Doppo put the new croquette in the hot oil. Shocking.

Dazai… didn’t seem like a troublemaker. He could stir shit, or could’ve considered doing so. Playing dumb could be a front to attack in an opening. There had been openings, and that front wasn’t too on point.

He’d hurt someone if he thought it necessary. Doppo was pretty sure of that. Did he seem to do it unprovoked? No. That wasn’t enough reason to let one’s guard down. I wasn’t an angel to him. Doppo flipped the croquette and rinsed a dish. Nor was he an angel to me.

Had Dazai been a good-for-nothing… how long ago would he lose his temper? He knew, but how did he? That Dazai wasn’t total trash.

I wanted to lose it, but… Dazai was watching TV, oblivious to the world. It wouldn’t help if I did. I did what I could, what I wanted, what was right. And I saved you.

Great.

“Let’s eat,” Dazai said.

I insisted that you had to eat. Now, you gimme that. “Why do you think I haven’t?”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I am. But that croquette was mine.” Doppo turned off the stove and dried his hands. “Have you tried anything?”

“You’re not here. It’s bad manners.”

And stealing food isn’t?! Doppo put the croquette on a second dish and returned to the table. Finally.

“Told ya to serve your food. I’m here now.” Doppo sat. “So?”

Dazai served enough rice for a sparrow. A droplet of soup was in his bowl, zero poached eggs, and a tiny portion of salad.

“Is that all?” Doppo asked, at the point of exhaustion.

“Or I won’t eat cake.”

I should’ve figured. “Fine.” He sighed. “You can get seconds if—”

“Oh.” Dazai picked something up from the salad with his chopsticks. “Kanikama?”

“Yeah.”

All I need now is you hating it. Doppo served absurd spoons of rice. The poached eggs didn’t even fit the bowl. His miso soup was almost spilling over. The salad slowly disappeared to the nearest eater’s bowl. I’ll keep to myself. There’s a lot. What if I praise him and he stops?

They exchanged looks and thanked for the meal.

There was busy silence. The food fit like a glove. Hunger turned even the blandest dishes into feasts. That one wasn’t bland. Doppo cooked proficiently in any circumstances. He was eating twice as much as… two? Three years prior? The growth phase, people said.

Doppo peeked aside. Dazai ate napa cabbage with Buddhist patience. He drank tea one milliliter at a time. Time seemed to not exist. It’s not a school lunch break. Luckily for you.

Had Dazai ever been in primary school, he wondered? It was mandatory, and that could be just a detail. How long has he been in the streets? Or has he always been, kind of? “Can you read?” was a stupid question; still, it occurred to him. It’d stealthily answer the first one.

A “suicide note”, he told me… I guess he can read, yeah.

“It’s good,” Dazai said, avoiding his gaze.

Did he think out loud? Doppo chewed slowly on the croquette. Sounded like it. He could play the hand he was dealt and dismiss the compliment.

“You want some more?” Doppo asked. “I made it for us.”

Ignoring the yes or no part, Dazai got a poached egg for himself. Two-nil for me.

The episode showed its face on the TV. The opening theme was a brainworm. Doppo often caught himself humming it on his way to class. It almost made him join the music club. He could find time if he tried. I do many things already…

“Your favorite show?” Dazai asked.

“Zatch Bell? No.” Doppo looked at him. Making conversation, huh. “Dunno if I have a favorite show. You?”

“Hellsing.”

It’s always something like that. Doppo got his glass to cover a grin. “It’s dark like my soul,” or whatever. Violence in Hellsing wasn’t a problem. It was a vampire show; it’d obviously have some. But the art style is a bit…

“Nothing else?” Doppo asked.

“Fruits Basket.”

Doppo almost choked on the tea. I like that one, too. But admitting it to another guy? Hiding a nervous giggle, he said, “Why?”

“The main character would die with me.”

“This again?” I don’t think she would, tho.

“I didn’t mention you.”

Nor did you ask for it to be me. Yeah… Tohru is cute. Dazai helped himself to more rice, soup, and another egg. But “she would die with me” is not flattery.

The episode started. He could only hope Dazai wasn’t the type to chat in the movies. Watching TV, that is.

They were busily eating till the commercial break, when Dazai said the inevitable, “I’d like cake.”

“I see food in your bowl.”

Dazai pushed it aside. “You can have it.”

“It’s just a bit.”

“That’s why. Have it.”

He had dinner. It’s okay. Doppo pushed the rice into his mouth. Still chewing, he piled up the tableware to carry.

Two dishes from the rack would do. They were dry with a simple wipe of the dish rag. The cake containers in the fridge looked clearly tampered with. He’s gonna ask to cut a slice. Doppo found a spatula. Then, I’ll cut them myself.

“Here.” Doppo set the dishes on the table and sat down. “Happy now?”

“There are two cakes.”

“Told you so.”

Dazai stabbed one strawberry with his fork. He rotated it in all angles, saying a marveled “Oh”. You can eat that. It’s not plastic. It was gone in a single bite.

“Gimme yours?” Dazai asked, his mouth full.

“No.”

Doppo did the same. Just to be sure. Whipped cream and strawberry were a classic. They went with any celebration, but tasted like birthdays.

Getting another one, like the lemon cake, had been a good idea. It tastes even better today. Not too sweet, not too sour; the layers were slightly elastic and moist. I wish I could bake these. Too bad we have no oven.

Doppo munched on a slice of candied lemon. Dazai was chewing on something as well… with his glass in his hand.

“Are you eating ice?” Doppo asked. “Why? It makes your teeth hurt.”

“It’s crunchy.”

The willpower to argue vanished. The episode was back on. If he wants to be weird, fine, then.

Like in the first half, there was peace until the next episode’s preview.

“Now, I need a bath.” Doppo got up. “I’ll go get clothes.”

Dazai pushed his empty dish aside. “Counting me in?”

“Stay in the bathroom.” Under my watch, as much as possible. Doppo left the dishes in the sink. “And get the laundry out. It’s dry, but still hot.”

“I like this set I’m wearing,” Dazai said.

“I’m not telling you to put your clothes back on.” Doppo tilted his head to the side. “Come see my bedroom.”

Dazai hopped back onto his feet. “What’s in there?”

“Barely anything.”

Doppo opened the sliding door and turned on the lights. The closed curtains, floor-to-ceiling, covered the balcony and the storm. Aside from the low table and its chair, the floor was empty.

“And it’s all yours?” Dazai stuck his head through the door. “It’s so spacious.”

I wouldn’t say “spacious”. Just wider than my previous one. They entered. In the wardrobe, he found another towel and a change of clothes.

The batteries, now. He left them in a small wooden chest, holding still a column of books on the shelf. Some of those needed to be back in the school bag.

“Here.” Doppo handed him the pack with still two batteries. “Leave them—”

“What’s that green book on the table?”

Shit. A shiver took his entire body. “Did you touch that?”

“No.” Dazai got the batteries. “The cover is blank.”

“That’s my… school planner. With my appointments.” Doppo opened the door. “No big deal.”

“Can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Use any planner. Isn’t there a rule?”

“It depends on the school…?” Enough questions. Doppo got the first-aid kit on the living room table and headed to the bathroom. “Look, the washing machine has stopped.”

A rectangular basket was beside the dirty laundry.

Doppo opened the washing machine. Pointing at the places, he said, “Get the clothes from here, throw them there.”

Dazai nodded.

“I won’t close the door all the way.” Doppo put the first-aid kit back in place. He hung the clothes and towel on a hook. “Then you can hear me.”

“Hmm…”

Hey. Why the double entendre? I won’t do anything. Doppo jumped into the cubicle. Not with you there.

One by one, he threw his used clothes outside the door. His glasses stayed on the bathroom shelf. The movement from near the washing machine sounded as usual. With lowered suspicions, he turned on the shower.

He didn’t get my notebook… I hope. He sat on the plastic stool.

His body was an easy wash. His hair also needed one. The new shampoo, a two-in-one product, did what it promised. To be sure, Doppo held his mom’s products against the light. Yeah. There’s still some, but I hope she doesn’t notice.

“Excuse me.” Dazai knocked on the shower door, even if it was transparent and half-open. “I folded the clothes.”

“You didn’t need to.” Can you fold clothes? Doppo tilted his head under the shower water. You don’t look the type. “It comes out wrinkled from the dryer. I’ll have to iron it.”

“Oh,” Dazai lamented. “I made it into rolls.”

Fine for a suitcase, at best. He turned off the shower. “I’ll fix that later.”

Dazai put his hand with a towel inside the cubicle.

“I’m not leaving now,” Doppo said.

“Cover the stool”

I sat with my jeans still wet from the rain. Didn’t even think of it. He got the towel and closed the door. Folded twice, it did the job. Doppo entered the bath and told him to come in.

Dazai popped his head into the cubicle, staring in doubt. “The curtains…”

“You embarrassed?” Doppo held onto the curtains. “I’ll close it.”

Me not being embarrassed is the problem, somehow? Dazai pondered for a moment. I’m in the water. You can’t even see much. In the end, Dazai came in and closed the shower door.

“One thing, though,” Doppo said. “Where are the batteries?”

“On the sink.”

One of the places to leave them. Not a good one. Doppo rested his head back on the edge of the tub. Welp.

His temple didn’t hurt anymore. Every painless moment was precious. No hunger, no thirst. Not cold, not too hot. Nothing to fear. Now, as for problems, I’m not sure.

The quiet presence made him uneasy. It wasn’t the bath; it was the silence. He’ll stare at me and look away. The situation is odd, but…

Perhaps, Dazai would rather not be there. In the bathroom, or the apartment… Or alive. Letting him off himself was out of the question. Too bad for you.

Dazai was the guest, though. If Doppo could call him that. I should be a good host, no? They were the same age. It should be easy.

I don’t even know if he… if I want to befriend him. I have only one friend… and no one got what we talked about. What to talk about, then? What did they have in common? Think. Something, for sure.

I got it!

“What’s that cartridge?” Doppo asked. “It’s the second Megaman Zero, right?”

Dazai returned the look, waited, and avoided it again, with a nonchalant, “Yeah.”

“I own a GBA, too. But only the first one in the Zero series. I bought it last year. Can you let me play—”

“No.”

Doppo took a deep breath. “Why?”

“If I lend it, I’ll have to get it back.”

“It’s for today, not to borrow.”

“No.”

This is not a dialogue. I’m the only one trying.

“What’s the matter?” Doppo stopped himself from sighing. “I’m not stealing it.”

“I’m in the last stage. Gotta finish it before I die.”

Just start a new game. From the six I know it saves. If you don’t want it, then, you don’t. “No one mentioned dying, though.”

“I did.”

And you’ve been doing so since I picked you up. “I’ll lend you one, then, if you want. For today only.”

“Which one?”

“Pokémon Sapphire.”

“Ah.”

Dazai stared at him. What’s with the “ah”? His only eye had the flare of interest.

“What now?” Doppo asked. “Do you want it?”

“I have it.”

“You do?” Maybe he keeps it where he sleeps… and goes out with one cartridge only. “I didn’t see it in your stuff.”

“It’s in the coin purse. But it’s the other one.”

“Ruby? That’s even better. I’ll get out of here.”

The water is so good, though… I wish I could stay. Dazai got up… and winced in pain. Hey, what’s wrong? Doppo bit his tongue. He stopped the question in time. It’s no use. Just let him leave.

So he did.

It was time to stand up and dry off. He had to empty the bathtub. Washing it all was a wasted effort, if it’d see more use later.

The towel from the stool weighed on his shoulders. An inanimate embrace. The steam fogged his glasses. It’d fade outside.

Doppo opened the door and looked out. When the lenses cleared up, Dazai stared back. The basket with clean laundry was full. Those are good rolls, I admit as much. The sneakers were on the floor, taken apart.

“Can I leave it open?” Doppo asked. “I don’t like getting dressed in here, anyway.”

“Me neither.”

I thought I was the only one. Dazai hugged himself by his elbows. He looked away. If I say “Don’t look”, you’d think I’m poking fun at you.

Doppo opened the door some more. He got dressed after a second round of the towel. His clothes were sticking to him anyway. “Get the basket,” he said.

“No can do.”

“Huh? How come? Excuse me.”

Holding it right, and… done. Doppo side-eyed him. Was it a prank?

He pushed the doorknob down with one elbow and left the bathroom. The basket should be near the dinner table. The washing machine will wash 10 kilograms. He peeked at Dazai, who came with his batteries in hand. Too heavy for you, I guess.

No one ate or drank enough in the streets. Sleeping was a thankless task; uncomfortably, in vigil, at the weather’s mercy. There was, too, blood on the old bandages. Likely not from his head, neck, or hands.

Dazai found the paper bag with his belongings. He quietly changed the batteries of his GBA. Was it an accident? Was it yourself? Someone else? When? How? Why? The questions only expanded, like air in a wafer-thin balloon. What happened to you?

Doppo squeezed his eyelids shut, then opened his eyes. Focus. He had to breathe and relax his shoulders. The world isn’t fair. Not to you, not to anyone.

“Hey,” Dazai said.

“Huh?” Doppo lifted his head. Dazai handed him the GBA with a lit screen. “What’s up?”

“Browse my collection.”

Yeah, it was my idea, but I didn’t have a plan. “I will. Let me iron the laundry first.”

The old futon and the iron were in the cabinet under the bathroom sink. There was a patch on the fabric. If positioned right on the table, it didn’t even exist. Dazai was off to the couch again. Guess you liked it.

“What route are you in?” Doppo asked, plugging in the iron.

“111.”

About halfway into the game, the magazine said. He smoothed the futon with his hands and a whiff of spray starch. The insanely pressed buttons returned… for no reason? It was turn-based combat. The sound of the GBA, however, had been off forever.

“No idea if you’ll want something from my ‘Dex.” Doppo laid out a shirt on the table and sprayed it. “I’m near the first cave.”

“Why so slow?”

“I bought it last week.”

And spent the entire week in Ace Attorney 1 and 2. The fun in it wasn’t “winning” or “losing”. His mom even asked if he didn’t prefer a book. It is and isn’t similar at the same time.

Spreading the clothes, spraying, ironing. On a weirdly chilly afternoon, it wasn’t half bad. The process entered autopilot mode. It was the price for arguing in favor of overeating dessert.

“Can I have cake?” Dazai asked.

Again? “I can’t. Dinner, though…?”

“Tea.”

“There’s none.” I want some, too. “I’ll make it.”

He finished ironing his uniform pants. A reasonable pile was left to do. Doppo unplugged the iron and stared at the back of the couch. Stay where you are.

A sign of use in the kettle showed where to stop filling. Predictably so, when that kitchen was fifteen years or older. The senbei with green onion seemed to restock itself in the pantry. Sadly, an enemy of the midnight snack with that noisy package.

“Is it done?” Dazai asked.

“In a moment.”

“I’m thirsty.”

It’s not when you want. The stove was then off, and he added the leaves.

A good time to go get his GBA, then. It was in the school bag, even during breaks. Habits died hard. The sole rule is to play it between classes. Not that people even care. Doppo turned it on. The cartridge for Pokémon Sapphire was in it.

“Here.” He left the GBA and the cable on the coffee table. Then, to do more dishes. “You can browse it.”

Dazai murmured, “Okay,” without looking away from his game.

The leaves were in at six sharp, then out three minutes later. I can rinse these dishes. Considering midnight to be Monday already, he had six hours left as his summer break. They’d been… peculiar? Not when he’d spent them alone again. Having a friend for a few breaks had been the exception. Strange, that’s what this break was.

The rain poured down outside; the buttons persisted. The main instrument was tea going into the thermos bottle. If that was peace, it was on a new scale. Doppo set the glasses on a platter and the senbei on a dish.

“Here.” Doppo left their snack on the coffee table. “How about you sit down?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Eating while lying down will choke you. Excuse me.”

Dazai grumbled, turned to every side possible, and gave in. You shouldn’t even rest your wet hair on the couch. Doppo sat down. The middle seat was the respectful gap.

“Can I have one?” Dazai asked, eyeing the senbei.

“Go ahead.” That’s why I brought it. “The tea is hot.”

With his cup and senbei in hand, Doppo judged the lack of interest beside him. His GBA was left untouched on the table. It was the classic purple model, bought second-hand. For an irrelevant scratch, it’d been a bargain.

He got the GBA back. The town near Route 106 was teeny tiny. Its sole attraction was the Gym, which he’d beaten already. There isn’t even a shop… Out of habit, he entered the Pokémon Center.

Doppo offered his portable, saying, “Check my PC.”

Dazai had left his GBA on the couch. He opened his mouth to two senbei at the same time. Without reservations, he ate them all and got the borrowed GBA.

“I have… that one, that one, that one…” Dazai talked to himself with a full mouth, browsing the menu. “I have them all.”

“Thought so.” He’s ahead of me, so… “Check my team, too.”

“Erm…” Dazai switched screens. His face lit up in curiosity. “How did you evolve these?”

“By leveling up?” Doppo frowned. “It’s the entire thing.”

What a stupid question. At last, Dazai lent his GBA. His game run was on Route 111. If Doppo recalled correctly from a magazine, he only had to walk down to get to the town. As expected.

“Mauville”, huh… Another tiny place. The bikes were there. Doppo glanced aside. Dazai checked his Sapphire-version team, wanting something without saying what it was. Can you ride a bike, I wonder?

Doppo entered the Pokémon Center. Something in his PC might be…

His brain got a cramp.

Advancing pages could maybe help. It did not. Not the third time, the fourth, the fifth, or the following ones. If there was hell in Pokémon, that was it.

There were more pages. How many? How? Why? Doppo opened and closed his mouth. Stuffing it with senbei didn’t help, nor did chewing it to de-stress. No. No. No. Unacceptable.

I’ve never seen anything this dreadful.

“Excuse me,” Doppo said, waving as if to catch a waiter’s attention. “Hey. Over here. A moment of your time, please.”

Dazai stared back in honest doubt.

Inhale, exhale, take it easy… Be polite. People have feelings. Think before you speak. Be considerate… “With all due respect, what the fuck is this?”

“Huh?”

“This computer.” What do you mean by “huh”?! “It’s a hot mess.”

“It’s organized, tho.”

“Yeah, I mean. In the way you think. Identical Pokémon are together. But there’s a repeated line for each. What for?”

“What of it?”

“The PC has a storage limit. If you catch only one, it goes into your Pokédex.”

“A limit?”

“Yes,” Doppo dragged the word out. Inhale, exhale, inhale… “It’s a high number, but you’ll reach it soon if you do that. Again, what for?”

“I thought they’d evolve.” Dazai blinked his sole exposed eye. He had the stupidest expression. “Completing the rows.”

“Huh?!”

“Like a slot machine.”

“It’s not a game for adults.” Doppo stared back, albeit reaching out for his cup of tea. It’d help chase away the shivers… perhaps. “Each Pokémon evolves on a different level.”

“Eh. Is it?”

It’s Pokémon! Everyone and their mother knows how it works. Are you from planet Earth?! He chugged the tea for longer than advisable. It was still too hot.

“Have you seen it all?” Dazai asked, with another dumb look.

All I wish I hadn’t. “I’ll…” he stuttered, leaving his cup on the table. “Check your team.”

Which maybe isn’t an alien horror show. Doppo closed the PC menu. He selected the active team. Please. Please don’t be. I beg…

…Goodness gracious.

“That’s…” Doppo inhaled, exhaling through his teeth. “You have a shiny Spinda.”

“I do?”

A Spinda. Out of all shiny Pokémon to catch.

“The green bunny. Which isn’t green too often,” Doppo explained. “An unevolved Poochyena. An unevolved Zigzagoon. A Whismur, same. A Dustox. And a shiny… Plusle.”

“Oh. The positive bunny. There’s another color for it.”

“It’s a waste of time if you don’t have Minun. They complement each other. Like the poles of a battery.”

“If I catch a negative, will the positive disappear?”

“Of course not! That wouldn’t even make any sense.”

“What about the green positive and the blue positive?” Dazai was rocking to the sides. “Even with the plus sign, they don’t add and evolve… Not even the same color ones.”

That’s the most outlandish reasoning I’ve ever seen.

“Just level up to evolve. Some need items, some need trading. Not all of them have evolutions. It’s that simple.” Doppo pressed his temple. A headache was saying hi. It’s like explaining the alphabet to a snail. “Your team should be all evolved by now. They just don’t if you press B when they’re evolving.”

“Is that so?”

He presses every button. At all times. In all games. Unknowingly. How come? It’s an elaborate TV prank. It has to be.

“One last thing,” Doppo said, his voice trembling out of his control. “Where’s your starter?”

“In the storage.”

What was I expecting?

Did he want to witness the tragedy first-hand? Did he need to? No for both cases. But he would. Doppo returned to the computer storage. Endless pages of repetition, like untraded stickers, collecting dust. The last one was a pink-purplish, low-level Mudkip. He has a shiny starter.

All words left him. He stared at the screen for a minute’s silence.

Unbelievable.

“I thought it was glitched,” Dazai said. “It’s blue in the show.”

It sounds like a fish story if I think about it.

“Here.” Doppo gave him back his GBA. His willpower was gone from his body. “You can play now.”

The TV was background noise. Nothing good was on. Random encounters distracted him from the time, and from meddling into other people’s business. Even if ridiculous, chaotic, and indefensible business.

Now and then, Doppo checked the clock. He also checked on his guest, who still pressed too many buttons. At times, he was checked back. The silence was no longer a problem. I still think he wants something.

“Why did you choose that game?” Dazai said, out of nowhere.

“Sapphire, you say?” Oh. Progress. He opened it now. “Instead of Ruby.”

“Yeah.”

“The exclusive Pokémon were better. You can get Seviper earlier… and I think I like Kyogre more. It looks like an airship. I’ve always wanted to ride in an airship.” Doppo served tea for both and pushed Dazai’s cup aside. “You?”

“I wanted the dinosaur.”

Doppo hid a chuckle behind his cup. Each to their own. He lowered the volume of the TV.

“I just grabbed it,” Dazai lamented. “Didn’t know about the version-exclusive ones.”

“Found it in the trash, or…?”

“The GBA, yes. I grabbed the game.” He stole that. I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Nothing I can do now.”

“Which exclusive did you want?”

Dazai didn’t reply. He seemed to have his eye on my team. Which one? Doppo opened the list.

It couldn’t be Combusken; Dazai could’ve had Torchic as a starter. Lombre wasn’t his type much. Beautifly wasn’t a version-exclusive. Nor was Swellow. A Ralts, that evolved into Kirlia, was just a rare sight.

“Was it Sableye?” Doppo asked.

Dazai returned the look for a second. Spot-on. It’s ominous and quirky.

“I’ll get another one,” Doppo insisted.

Equipped with Pokéballs and ropes, he returned to Route 106. Yes, it’d be one Zubat after another, and many Arons to deal with. A dull loop, but a low-damage one. Lombre and Kirlia would make good use of it.

There was another floor to go down. I step on the rope ladder, and use Flash… Yeah, the floors look all the same. Three steps ahead triggered a random encounter. Damn, another Zubat? No!

“Found it!” Doppo exclaimed. “Come see.”

Dazai leaned in to see. Easy, now. Doppo weakened the wild Sableye with Combusken’s attacks.

The Sableye he already had wouldn’t hurt the new one too badly. Keeping it there was better played like that. It’s still close in level… The health bar entered the ideal zone. Pokéball, go!

One, two, three side-to-side wiggles. Done.

“You got it,” Dazai said.

“It’s yours. Wanna trade?”

Dazai paused his game. He got his cup with both hands, using the sleeves as gloves. His GBA was on his lap. “How?” he asked.

“With the cable.” Doppo pointed at it on the table. “Don’t you have one?”

“I thought it was for transferring batteries.”

“It’d be good.” And charging it in an outlet. I hate batteries. He connected one end to his GBA and offered the other one. “What should I name it?”

“Mokumokuren.”

“Five characters only.” Doppo side-eyed him. “Why that youkai?”

“The eyes.”

“I can do ‘Mokuren’.”

And no complaints from you. There were better options, but well. Doppo named the creature and used a rope to leave the cave.

Dazai connected the cable and stared at the screen. “Nothing happened.”

“Any Pokémon Center. Second floor, middle PC. That’s where you trade.”

In their screens, they both walked there.

“Which one do you want?” Dazai opened the storage PC. “An exclusive?”

“They’re Seedot, Mawile…” Doppo pushed his memory a little. “Up until that point. There are others later.”

“I have those.”

“I’ve seen them.” Like, six of each. “Anything will do. I’ll get them another…”

Another what? Doppo cut himself mid-sentence. The rain will stop, and you’ll go.

“Hm?” Dazai asked.

“I’ll get the rest later.”

We’re not friends. I can keep no promises. Dazai stared at him longer and selected the one he wanted. The same goes for you.

They met at the trading station. Sableye to one side, Mawile to another. The animation finished successfully.

Doppo read the info on the new Pokémon. Original trainer… “Osamu”? He looked aside as covertly as possible. You “wouldn’t tell your full name to a stranger”, or something.

“Thanks,” Dazai said, so quietly it could’ve been any word.

Osamu Dazai, then. Nice to meet ya. Keeping the grin to himself, he said, “Don’t mention it.”

Even if just for today.

Doppo saved his game, turned off his GBA, and stretched his back. “I’ll go iron more clothes.”

“Hm?”

“It’s six-thirty now. My parents said after seven. From what I know, eight is the latest they’ll be here.” He paid attention to the outside. Still pouring. “If the house looks good, they won’t complain about the cake.”

“Are you on a diet?”

“That’s not really it.” Doppo got up. “There’s nothing on TV right now, I think. I’ll go get a few magazines.”

His collection was in his bedroom. The Sapphire version manual would be a good call. It could avoid new atrocities. Someone needed to put order in chaos… better late than never. He left the magazines on the coffee table and headed to the pile of clothes.

There were a handful of surprises. The dreary monologue of that afternoon shifted into a conversation. Fluid conversation. Five minutes in, and Dazai was asking anything and everything. He wouldn’t shut up; it just happened to be about the game.

He knew very little and was a quick learner. An interested one, which mattered more. He’s smart, as I thought. I’ve had it with the “smartass” side. He’s more tolerable after a bath and with his stomach full… like anyone else.

“I’m done here.” Doppo checked the clock. “It’s seven sharp. The later, the riskier it is. I’ll go see a thing.”

The living room and his bedroom could access the balcony. They had different doors, lockable from the inside only.

“It’s pretty loud.” Doppo grabbed the curtain, strategically behind the TV. “But the rain shouldn’t be too—”

The wind threw water onto the glass door. Was that hail?! Doppo slowly opened the curtain. The hail season was gone months prior. There was no typhoon warning either…

“What now?” Dazai asked.

Exactly. What now? Doppo looked to the sides of the room. “Go to my bedroom.”

“That’s sudden.” Dazai closed a magazine, revealing a sly smirk. “What for?”

“To hide, obviously.” Doppo sprinted to the bathroom. “You and your stuff.”

His sneakers and belt are here. No shoes at the door. Bag with his things… near the entrance. Old bandages… to the trash, in theory, but what if they see it?

“Your clothes are on the top of the pile,” Doppo said. “Bring them, too.”

“In a moment.”

“It’s not the case for ‘in a moment’.” He slid the door open with one finger. “Or I’ll drag you here.”

“Why the rush?” Dazai reopened the magazine. “What do you want, huh?”

“To keep you dry. C’mon, let’s go.”

Dazai grumbled in the living room while doing as he should. And all this… goes into the wardrobe.

“Here.” Dazai handed him the now clean and dry outside clothes. “What about me?”

That’s true. Doppo pondered… What if he had to hide the guest? “You fit in the closet.”

“Dunno.”

“It wasn’t a question.” Doppo opened the door some more. “Try it.”

Dazai blinked twice, with a seemingly empty mind. He entered, sitting on the spare shikibuton. He let out an “oh”.

“Told ya. Even I fit in there,” Doppo commented. But it was more roomy last year. “You don’t need to stay in there. It’s just in case my parents—”

“It’s neat.”

Doppo frowned. “Uh… is it?”

“It feels like a tomb.”

“Wasn’t there a better comparison?” He turned up his nose, putting away the last few things. “Even ‘shoebox’.”

“How is it to be in a coffin, I wonder?”

“One moment… please.” Doppo headed to the door. “Be right back.”

“Can you entomb me here?”

“No.”

“Mummify” would fit better. Eek. Enough.

No food was left on the coffee table. Just an empty dish and their cups, all washed in a snap. The already-read material was on an uneven pile. One magazine was open on the couch.

As for the unread ones… Out of five, he’s read two and part of the manual. In half an hour? Doppo got them all back in separate piles. I thought I was the only one to read this quickly.

Back in the bedroom, he turned on the lights. Dazai was cozy, absently playing the game. He’d found a pillow where to rest his back and covered his feet with the futon. Yeah, don’t hold your breath. It’ll still rain for a while. Doppo gave him the magazines. Dazai got them without a word and covered himself to the waist.

“Are you cold?” Doppo asked.

“Hm?” Dazai tilted his head to the side. Damn it, I thought it out loud. “It’s summer.”

“I know what season it is.” That’s my winter futon, tho. And you barely weigh anything. “If you need heavier clothes…”

“No.” Dazai paused the game and opened the half-read magazine. “I’m good.”

Doppo shrugged it off and sat on his floor-level chair. Behind him, the futon was rustling. Hmm. Dazai entered under the covers; even his head. Only his face and hands were out. They exchanged looks for a stupid second.

“It’s fluffy,” Dazai said.

“Okay.”

You sleep in the streets. Be my guest.

An old notebook was in the corner. He opened it to the most recent page. The checkered sheets guided compass circles and arrows. Beside the circles, there were topics, ramifications, and question marks. At long last, I’ll do this. He opened the green notebook.

September as an academic month didn’t have many events. Luckily so, as October had many. Nothing in the first week of September. Nothing special, at least. Doppo took notes with a pen on the definite page. The class needs time to get started.

In the second week, he’d talk to the student council. An informal approach, or vague comment during a meeting. Not on Mondays. Everyone’s lazy. Not on Fridays. They’re all aloof. On Tuesday, then, he’d mention Sports Day. They’d return to the topic on Wednesday, and he’d talk to his own class on Thursday.

The third week had a holiday on the fifteenth. “Call my grandparents,” he wrote in the right notebook.

“Why does the Fighting-type beat the Steel-type?” Dazai asked.

“No idea.”

“Who on Earth can kick metal and be fine?”

“Someone.” Not me. “Sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Sports Day: address formally at the regular meeting,” he wrote for the third week. “Informally address the field trip.”

“Ghost beats Ghost…”

“That one makes sense.” Doppo cleaned the tip of the pen on useless paper. “One ghost can touch another.”

In the fourth week of September, Tuesday was a holiday. That meant no classes on Monday as well. His options were, “Visiting my other grandparents’ grave,” “Going to a temple,” and “Taking a walk in a park.” Why not all three? All in the morning. I’ll have a free Monday, and Tuesday afternoon, too.

“…and Flying resists Fighting?” Dazai asked.

“Try to punch a bird.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Formally address the field trip” and “Organize Sports Day” were next in his plans.

“What for?” Dazai continued. “It’d die.”

“It’s just a memo. Don’t punch a bird.” In the first week of October…

“What are you doing?”

I haven’t told him I’d be busy. Now, he wants to talk. Doppo’s shoulders weakened. My mistake. “School stuff.”

“Aren’t you on break?”

“It’s over tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you stop going?”

“The more I study, the better.” Genuine question, I believe. Some people quit when they finish primary school. “I’d like a nice job.”

“Like?”

Every adult ever asks that. Don’t put me on the spot.

“I’ve worked at a grocery store, and was a private tutor… It’s a part-time thing at school these days. I do calligraphy and painting.” Doppo searched through the pile of notebooks by his side. “I made this one last year.”

He reached out to show a birthday card. It had forget-me-not flowers and red tulips, but a stain in a corner.

“Is that for me?” Dazai said.

“It wasn’t my idea.” Fine, have it. He threw the card, and it landed on the futon. “I don’t like painting for cash. Maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“Tutoring was kinda cool.”

“You look the type.”

People say that about my dad. And he was a teacher for a while.

“Ah.” Dazai returned the card. “I don’t want that.”

“Is the stain that ugly?”

“My present was another one.”

“Well… You asked for a broken fork.” He won’t stop. I can’t write anything down. “Don’t you want anything else?”

“No. I’m set on the fork. You made it.”

And I’m the stubborn one here. Doppo sighed and dropped the task. The box with experimentation results was in a drawer under the spare futon. Things made by… “Magic” sounded deceptive. “Hidden power” was dumb. A “gift”…?

He’d never named the concept. But it does have a name, doesn’t it? He kneeled to find the fork, under the old Gundam, a fan, and a candle plate. He’d made it identical to his primary school one. It was orange, with carrots on the handle. I liked that one.

“Keep the card as well.” Doppo handed him the fork. “I don’t mean to give a lame present.”

With a blank expression, Dazai got it.

A flash took the bedroom.

It was shining brighter than the light bulb. Doppo withdrew his hand. It doesn’t burn. The entire fork was lit in a pale shade of blue. The focus of light expanded in a blinding rectangle. The light faded without a trace. There was a notebook page left, with “plastic fork” written in it.

“Thanks,” Dazai said.

“How…” Doppo pushed his voice out. “Did it expire?”

“Hm?”

“Is there a time limit? Was it because someone else touched it? No. That’d never happened. My parents have touched that fork. Was it due to being a gift? What—”

“I thought you’d know…”

“What kind of joke is this?”

“Huh?”

“This sheet.” Doppo got the paper back. I’m shaking. “It’s exactly the one I made the fork with. It’s my handwriting at the time. Even the colored pencil I had. It’d vanished. Where did you find it?”

“It was me.”

“How so?”

“Told you. It was me—”

“Of course it was you!” Doppo interrupted. “Spit it out. What’s your trick?”

“There’s no trick.”

That can’t be. I’ve never seen that. It’s a lie. It’s… His empty hand gripped the wardrobe; keeping him on his feet. Even I thought I was fooling myself. The world was spinning, yes, in a direction that might’ve been the opposite.

“Is it a hidden power?” Doppo asked.

“No. Not a ‘hidden power’. That’s embarrassing.” Dazai turned up his nose at it. Don’t rub it in. That’s all I could think of. “I undo those things.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“No. For real?”

“Of course it is,” Dazai rebutted. “Give me something else, then.”

“Did you believe me?”

“Not from the start, but… you don’t look like a liar.” Dazai scratched the back of his neck, avoiding his gaze. A new brand of insult? “It’s an ‘ability’.”

“Are these all there is? I mean… Making things… and undoing things.”

“There are many types. No one knows how many.”

“How many people have one?”

“Dunno.”

That doesn’t help… but I know even less. “What does your ability do, then?”

“I nullify other people’s via touch.”

“Cool.” Doppo frowned. “How did you find it out?”

Dazai said nothing. I know you’ve heard me. The thunderclap was now. He scanned the dark corner of the wardrobe. You don’t wanna tell me… right?

“It’s raining,” Dazai muttered.

“It is.”

How are you going to go… “Home”? Wherever it is. He’d go eventually. He’d have to.

“I wish I’d died.” Dazai wrapped himself better in the futon and resumed reading. “Drowned in the river.”

Does the rain make you sad? “I’ll… be over there. I have stuff to write.”

“You’re a busy guy.”

“I’m the class rep. Just like last year—” A noise came from the living room. Oh, damn it! Doppo grabbed onto the door. “Bad news. My parents are here.”

“And?”

“Quiet.” Doppo gestured at him for silence. “They can’t know.”

“Are you ashamed of it?”

“I wish. They’re going to ask one million questions.”

“Can I see them?”

“What if they spot you?! Stay put. I’ll go there—”

“Want me to leave?”

Doppo held his breath. It’s the heaviest rainfall of the entire year. “Quiet.”

He shut the door. Dazai was silent.

Doppo checked the bedroom. It looks fine… I’ll open it.

“Welcome back…” he said towards the entrance. “You good over there?”

“We’re great,” his mom grumbled. “Couldn’t be better.”

“I see.”

“The towels, please.”

“I’m on it.”

Old towels were for those uses. Doppo found the pile in a kitchen cabinet. The dishes were done, and the laundry was ironed. Nothing strange around here, either. He got two towels.

“How was it?” Doppo asked.

“We could enjoy the view till three-thirty or so…” His dad hung a leather jacket on the wall. He wore it so often that it was almost a part of him. “Then, just the downpour. We weren’t the only ones let down.”

“I could get the stuff.” Doppo got his mom’s towel back.

“At the grocery store?” his dad asked. Doppo nodded. Don’t ask me about the freebie. “Are they doing well?”

“They claimed to be.”

“I took pictures,” his mom said. “If the camera survived, I’ll get them developed tomorrow.”

“It has to have survived,” his dad replied. “It’s waterproof.”

Doppo took the towels to the washing machine. By the entrance, they took off their shoes, chit-chatting about nothing special. Situation normal… and not the rest. Hopefully.

“Did you have dinner?” Doppo asked, back to the living room. “I made food kinda early.”

“We ate something. I wouldn’t call it ‘dinner’.” His dad stretched. “Not hungry now, thanks. All I want is a bath.”

His mom bemoaned losing priority of the bathtub; she entered the couple’s bedroom. His dad muttered a “be right back” and went to the bathroom. Doppo waited a safe second. He slowly opened the washroom and locked himself in there.

With his back to the door, he exhaled completely. His shoulders were made of stone. My face. I gotta wash my face.

He hung his glasses to his collar. On the sink over the toilet, he filled his hands with water. The cold shock reminded his blood it had to run. He had to stop shaking. It’s all right. They don’t know. The house is spotless…

A memory while he dried his face. The dishes. There were two pairs of everything. Bowls, cups, cutlery. Definitely clean, but used. What if they see it? I don’t think they will, but… I was stupid. He flushed without a need and turned the key. I’ll get out of here and…

“Doppo?” his mom said.

Fuck!

She had one hand raised as if she’d knock on the door. Her hair was in the usual stay-at-home updo, showing the dark roots. Face to face, he was almost her height already.

“What’s wrong?” she said. “You look pale.”

“It’s just…” I hate making it up. “I got up too quickly.”

“Be careful, huh. Are you leaving?”

“Yeah.”

He came out to make way. As she closed the door, he was off to the kitchen. No rush, no fanfare, he dried every piece. It sounds more legit if I dry them all. He’d do it, then.

The flush resounded and the door of the washroom opened.

“Where did you put the hangers?” his mom asked, on her way to the couple’s bedroom. “I have to hang our clothes.”

“Gray box, first of the pile, deep in the closet.”

“Why so hidden?” Her voice was muffled from afar.

“Too many clothes, too little closet.”

And you two can’t deal with that. But I can. Her frustrated sigh came from the bedroom. Focus.

One thing at a time. Slowly, but surely, till the dishrag was wet. Till the traces were gone. Another dishrag, now. He hung the previous one. In the drawer…

The bathroom door opened.

“Man-man?” his dad asked, peeking through the door. “Oh. I could swear I’ve heard her voice.”

You two took the day off to jumpscare me. Doppo let go of the knob, on the edge of taking it apart. “In your bedroom. What’s up, Dad?”

“Nothing much. It’s… Have you seen my shaving razor?”

Uh-huh. I’ve seen it, and got it, and hid it. I know exactly where it is. For the most absurd reason ever. Not even if I explained it… Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Put it back next time! Doppo took a deep breath. Discreetly, if possible. The “no, I haven’t” should sound convincing…

“I don’t need it now, to be honest,” his dad added. Whew. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve left it right here. Haven’t I…?”

“I’ll take a look later,” Doppo said. “I promise.”

“Thanks.”

His dad closed the door. Losing things, as always. It’s my fault this time.

Doppo found a new dishrag. The surface-level normalcy was hanging by a thread. It was nearly over. Quickly now. Just these glasses… His hands couldn’t fail him. Breathe in, breathe out, relax.

Glasses to the cabinet, dishrag to the hook. Okay. Did it. Enough.

His mom was leaving the couple’s bedroom. She’d changed her outfit for a terry-cloth robe and mindlessly checked her nails.

“I’ll go do a few things,” Doppo told her. “Many things.”

“School stuff…?”

“Yeah. Homework I put away.” He opened the door to his room. “I forgot.”

“That’s a twist.” She frowned. Yes, because it’s bullshit. “Is it a lot, really?”

“Many, many things. It’ll take the entire evening. And the night, and no idea when I’ll sleep. I might not even sleep.”

“Good luck… I guess.”

“Thank you.”

Doppo closed the door. The thud caused a second one… from inside the closet.

“You all right?” his mom asked.

“I’m wonderful!” Doppo raised his voice. “I just tripped.”

Treading carefully on the tatami, he headed to the wardrobe. A crack in the door revealed an eye, widened in the shadow.

“What was that?” Doppo leaned in to whisper. “You scared the crap outta me.”

“That’s your fault…” Dazai squinted, judging him. “I hit my head.”

“It didn’t even hurt.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do not. I didn’t see it.” Drama queen. Doppo opened the door wider. “Show me where it hurts.”

Dazai side-eyed him and didn’t budge. What now? Doppo returned the mean look. Show it. Giving up on butting heads, Dazai pointed above the back of his neck.

Doppo wasted a second after pushing the hair aside. “It looks fine.” There are a few scabs… from not enough hair washing. It didn’t bleed. “I’ll go get ice if you need it.”

“It hurts.”

“Okay, fine. My bad.” Want me to kiss it better or something? “Close the door.”

“I can’t read in the dark.”

A mini flashlight was on the shelf. He wore it on his keychain when it wasn’t raining so often. Let’s hope the batteries didn’t die… Doppo pressed the button and it was on.

“Here.” He gave Dazai the flashlight. “Now, shh!”

Doppo closed the door. He stared at it suspiciously, reprehending a possible uproar. Breathe out. Relax your shoulders. Go sit down.

His posture had to be neat. One moment, just one moment’s peace. Of silence and rain, with his eyes closed. Life went on outside, his parents taking care of something else; taking care of themselves. They didn’t know a thing, or so he’d rather believe.

It wasn’t a lie. I’ve got stuff to do. He got the pen back and began, even if his mind wandered.

“Ability.” It didn’t sit him well. It gave him chills of an ill omen. But the name was right. In a corner of his mind, he knew it was. Not the kind of satisfying “correct”, though.

It rained, with no end in sight. Dazai would have to stay. If he did, Doppo would get one or two new pieces of information from him… perhaps? Pokémon was the only true icebreaker. He took the French leave on other topics. Classic move when people weren’t up to talking. He’d insisted, however, on the fork and the entire thing. For the sake of all that’s holy, to break the news.

In the fourth week of October…

“Hey.” Dazai opened the wardrobe.

You bastard! Doppo squeezed the pen. He took a deep breath, got up from the chair, and walked there. Easily, but with a stomping intent. “What?”

“Get me more magazines.”

“No Pokémon ones left.”

“Anything will do.”

As long as they keep you quiet. There weren’t many. It’d be good if there were. Donating magazines was a biannual event. With the rent through the roof, making room was the way. The best ones stayed, the irrelevant ones could go.

“Here.” Doppo gave him a pile of special issues. “Now, quiet.”

He closed the door. Now, back to…

“Hey.” Dazai opened it again. “I’m not done.”

“What now?” You know this thing is open, and I’m “talking to myself”, right?

“What are the magazines about?”

You said “anything”, why are you asking? “Two are video game ones, one is a music one. You didn’t choose, so, there you go.”

“They’ll be over soon…” Dazai seemed lost in thought. Out with it, you want attention. “Aren’t there more?”

Doppo scanned his shelves. What would work? Considering the guy… I have the right card up my sleeve. He got the book and said, “Here. My recommendation.”

“It’s… ‘The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya…” Dazai held it in his hands. “Is it recent?”

“Out this year. It’s good. Great. Amazing. It’s the best book I’ve ever read.”

“Oh.” Dazai checked the back cover. “Is that so?”

“Trust me.”

“Uh-huh…”

It’s an insane book. Nuts. The craziest thing I’ve ever read. Cool and funny? Sure thing. But it’s non-stop nonsense. And gave me headaches. Dazai rotated the cheap volume from all angles. Doppo didn’t take his eyes off of the scene. Please, get convinced already. I wanna close the door.

“Got it,” Dazai said. “I’ll read it.”

Fucking finally. “Have fun.”

He closed it. No new annoyances when he sat. With his pen in hand, he was back to work.

If he’d been once hyped for returning to school, he was no longer. A coherent routine should be pleasant. It was even more pleasant when he made it coherent. Why can’t I enjoy this right now? Am I exhausted or what? He’d do it, regardless of liking it. What other thing he wanted… if not that?

There was something else in mind, indeed.

The fork. The fork turned into paper. The fork had returned to paper, after years of being a fork. It was experiment number six. He couldn’t call the Gundam an experiment. It was ground zero, the discovery, and made of plastic.

He’d tested the five classic elements, to be sure. The fan was made of bamboo. The candle plate was copper, both copied from a utility store. Water had worked, too, but he’d drank it. The earth he created was under the bushes nearby. Testing out fire demanded more from his wit. A metal mug and a lid to put it out. It worked, too.

The rest were assorted, commonplace things. An eraser, glass wipes, a nail file. Petty things he still had and wouldn’t bother buying. Money didn’t grow on trees. Not his, nor his parents’.

It’s so silent now. Doppo looked over his shoulder. You don’t even seem to be there. Lightning illuminated the sky. Three seconds later, a roaring thunderclap, and no frights. What do you do for a living?

Doppo looked back to the sheet. It’s none of my business.

The next “hey” made his pen slip away diagonally. Doppo dropped what he did to answer. “My name is not ‘hey’.”

“I wanna go to the restroom,” Dazai said.

“You should’ve gone earlier.”

“I don’t control that.”

“What part of ‘my parents are home’ isn’t clear? Deal with it on the balcony.” Holy mother of headaches. “It’s raining, dark, and no one is outside.”

“It’ll get your room wet.” Dazai stared at him as if deeming him stupid. “And get me wet, too.”

Two-one, score one for him.

“I’m bursting…” Dazai insisted.

“Fine.” Doppo held out a hand. “Gimme the magazines you’ve read.”

“What for?”

“It’s a mess in there. Do you need to go or not?”

Dazai gave him back the issues, in the worst pile ever conceived. Later. I can work on it later. It won’t damage them. Under his school bag, they’d be less obvious.

Doppo put his ear to the bedroom door. It’s eight-thirty on my alarm clock. This noise… Someone was snoring in the living room. If Mom is in the bathtub…

He waved at Dazai to approach. “Watch out. My dad is napping on the couch.”

Dazai nodded. Doppo straightened his back. He’d block the view, if needed, or possible. Then, he opened it. No one in sight… Let’s go.

It was the same middle-of-the-night route; always mindful of noise. Covered up by the TV, it was even easier. Turning left, then, to the entrance. He can tiptoe well… but I don’t think he lives in an apartment.

Doppo knocked on the washroom door. No one answered. He opened it, gestured at Dazai to enter, and locked them both inside.

“It’s true,” Dazai said. “Your dad is—”

“Shh!” Yes, he’s on the couch. I told you, didn’t I? “Do what you gotta do.”

“With you here?”

“How could I explain being on watch outside? Come on.” Doppo turned on his heels, staring at the door. “I’ll look the other way.”

Dazai let out a “hmph,” resembling a giggle. “What a cramped little space.”

“I figured.”

Kind of unsettling. If, in the morning, he’d bet on how the evening would be, he’d have surmised lots of nonsense. It still wouldn’t include “stuck with someone in the washroom”. A guy, even. My age. Who I met today and wants to off himself at all costs. Using the bathroom, standing right behind me.

“There, there.” Dazai flushed and opened the faucet. “You’re a prudish one.”

“Shut up.” I didn’t even wanna be here. “Was I supposed to look?”

“Who knows…”

Some people would. Out of curiosity, mockery, or intent. You yelled at me not to see you naked about five times. This is the most turn-off scenario ever.

Outside, the bathroom door opened. His mom came out, letting out a pleased sigh. Doppo gestured for them to switch places, and “silence” with his other hand. I’m here already. I’ll do the same.

Apparently, Dazai had the decency not to look. They were still too close. One of the experiences of all time. Doppo squinted towards the sink. I needed to come here, too. Didn’t even notice it.

“I heard another door,” Dazai whispered.

“My parents’ room.” Doppo washed between his fingers. “Quickly now.”

Dazai unlocked the washroom without opening it. Doppo turned the doorknob and peeked through the crack. Dad is still sleeping… “C’mon,” he muttered.

“Isn’t it better to stop and eat?” Dazai asked.

“Nope. I can see what I’ll do—”

“We’re already here.”

Yes, but there’s no time for that, and you’re not see-through. “Okay, water at least.”

They left and closed the door. Hunched over near the sink, they were hidden from the other side. One single glass was on the dishrack. He gave it to Dazai, who filled it.

The bedroom door opened.

Dazai drank the water without a noise. Doppo’s mom came out of the bedroom with a blanket in her hands. She still wore her robe and wasn’t aware of the darker kitchen. Doppo straightened his back just enough.

Their summer futon was a Ship of Theseus, with more patches than original parts. She spread it and turned off the lights, not even touching the TV remote. Or Dad will wake up. And who knows when he’ll sleep again.

When she vanished to their bedroom, Dazai offered him the empty glass. Washing it would waste time; used only once, it wasn’t off-putting. Doppo served water for himself and chugged it in record time. Leaving it in the sink was no big deal.

To my bedroom. He tilted his head and started it. Tiptoeing without having to ask for it. As he closed the door, there were no scares, no tripping, the evening was back to normal.

Doppo sat for the millionth time. He stretched with arms to the roof and good posture on the chair. Dazai hid in his cave. Don’t get out of there again.

One interruption after another, the class schedule was incomplete. December was far in the horizon, if he were to be honest to himself. He could plan it the next day. In the rest of the week, in October, even November. Finishing it was pedantry, more than a necessity.

Doppo skipped one page and cleaned the tip of the pen. My “late” work is another one.

2003–08–31, Sunday

My birthday was yesterday. I should’ve written it down yesterday to remember the details. I spent it with my parents, like the other ones, except for last year. They gave me clothes. A bit boring as a gift, but they look nice.

Katai called me, too. He remembers it without taking notes. That’s impressive. We talked more about him, actually. He’s doing fine, I know that. At the same time, he isn’t. I know he’s not.

Doppo sighed. That guy. His grin towards the page had a hint of not wanting to be out. When can I tell him about today?

I went to the store where I used to work. They gave me “ugly” vegetables, as always. They’re not ugly, people just don’t buy them — also, cake. I didn’t even know how to thank them.

Now, the madness in question.

On my way back, I met a guy.

Right this moment, he’s in my wardrobe, reading my magazines or playing something. He’s alive and quiet. That’s what matters.

“Kunikida-kun.”

Doppo closed his notebook in a split second. He got up, hands on the table. He inhaled slowly and exhaled the same way. One step or two to the half-open wardrobe.

“Thanks for learning my name.” Doppo squinted. “What is it?

“Can I have a snack?”

“The name was lesson one. Lesson two: I’m not a hotel maid.”

“We should’ve eaten that time.”

“No, we should not.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, then.”

Because I’ve saved your life, and didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

“Listen,” Doppo said. “I never eat in my bedroom. If I bring food, they’ll ask me why. Do you see the problem?”

Dazai’s excitement wilted a bit. He didn’t look back. “I’m leaving.”

“It’s pouring outside.”

“I’m a nuisance.”

“You’re not. It’s…” Doppo covered his forehead with one hand. It’d be good if I knew what to say. “It’s nine o’clock. Be quiet till ten. My parents will go to bed.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I don’t look like a liar, do I?”

You’ve said that yourself.

“Swear by it,” Dazai said. “Or I’ll kill myself.”

“Swearing is a bit too intense…” So is killing yourself. “But I’ll go get food. When it’s time, I will.”

“Okay.”

Dazai closed himself in there again. And that was because he was cranky about dinner. Doppo returned to the page. He’d have peace to finish… if it all went right.

I don’t know how to write his name. Too many possibilities. If I asked, he wouldn’t tell me. “Osamu Dazai” is what I know. He didn’t tell me his first name. But I guess he knows I found out.

We’re the same age. He’s crazy and lacks common sense. Sometimes, he looks stupid. I’m not too sure if he’s faking it. 50% of the time, he’s an annoying prick; and concerning the other 50%.

The digital alarm clock had no hands to tick the minutes. Doppo adjusted it to the morning. He wasn’t done with the page; he’d know when he was.

I know as little about him as he knows about me. “Wanting to know more” is complicated. To know what, exactly? It would be nothing good. He wants to die.

And that’s why I brought him here.

He says, “I want to die” like “I want to go to the restroom”. For no apparent reason, in times when nothing happened. I’ve never seen such a thing before. And I know pessimistic people.

Doppo put one hand on his chin. The next sentence was trying to escape through his fingers.

We’re not neighbors, classmates, or acquaintances. The best name for it is “setback”. “Stumbling block.” I stumbled upon the block and brought it home.

I did that a lot in primary school, with everything I saw. Poor lost pencil, thinking its owner doesn’t want it anymore. I still do. It’s not uncommon. It just happened to be a person this time.

He glanced at the closed wardrobe. It was, at last, quiet for a while. Peace and danger were different types of silence.

He isn’t a poor little thing, and I wouldn’t pretend he is. I can’t say I like him. I don’t hate him, either. He’ll leave, and we’ll never meet again. I have no reason to comment.

The break still has two hours and a half to it. I did a lot of what I wanted. Sleeping well, going on strolls, reading some things, playing other things. The trimester doesn’t have as much free time. I won’t complain if I have to go to class tomorrow. I’d just take an extra day or two, if I could.

The guy in my wardrobe shouldn’t even be there. “You do what you need and go,” I told him. It has an expiration date, it always did.

Thinking about it is… weird.

He left the chair, pushed it back into place, and let himself fall on the tatami floor. Just for a moment, looking for calm in the ceiling. His long sigh blew out the last flame of energy.

He’d be all night on the “delayed homework”. Coming in and out of the bedroom should be minimal. It thundered still, the drizzling rain being a liar a second time. What a day, huh? Unprecedented.

It was one of those unforgettable things. Not a birth, death, moving homes, or transferring schools. Those were advertisements, quotes in magazine articles, overheard conversations, song lyrics, and the smile of someone in particular. As trite as it was, his memory decided on its own to keep it. “Trite,” in this case.

Or did it have precedents? Doppo got his notebook back to flip many pages. I didn’t forget this one, either.

2002–08–23, Friday

I went to a library. Katai asked me to go see if they had a book on Java. I took a shortcut through a gridded footbridge.

In the middle, there was a fairly short girl, looking at the traffic. The logo for Pain of Salvation was on the back of her shirt. In the beginning, she seemed to be crying.

As soon as I passed by, she let out the happiest cry and almost gave me a heart attack. Even if unadvisable, she ran in the direction I came from, and to where I should return.

I wonder what good thing happened to her.

Our paths just crossed. I knew I wouldn’t forget that one, too. Doppo closed his notebook and left it on the table. I really didn’t.

There were two knocks on the door, and his mom opened it.

“You going to bed?” Doppo asked.

“Yeah.” She spoke quietly, gesturing for silence. Dad is still in the living room, then. “I’ll leave early tomorrow. There’s food in the fridge.”

“Oh, nice save.”

“Will you be home at five? The pigment I ordered will arrive.”

“Yeah, probably. I only have something to do at work next week.”

“As always, right?” She shrugged. “Good night.”

Doppo replied to her “good night” and she was gone. The door of the other room opened and closed. He jumped back on his feet and opened the wardrobe.

Dazai poked his head out of the blanket, with the borrowed book on his lap.

“It’s five to ten. I’ll go there,” Doppo whispered. “Sweet? Savory?”

“Both.”

Doppo nodded, closed the door, and left the room.

The bathroom was the first stop, ignoring the kitchen. With the door shut, he turned on the light to check the laundry basket. To no results.

Wait. Where are my jeans? In a hurry, as they were, his pants were left on the floor. He hadn’t put it in the basket. Did my parents…? They’d have seen the razor… He looked around in every direction… then, to the hook behind the door. Ah.

There it was, gloriously, on a hanger. His parents seemed allergic to hangers. They were “too much work”. The shaving razor was in the same pocket. The smartass put this here and didn’t see it. A random drawer under the sink was enough of an excuse. He turned off the light and left.

In his best silence, he got to the kitchen. The fridge had ten onigiri. Six were his parents’, and four were his. He got two and a bottle of peach-flavored tea. There were dishes in the sink again. The more I pray, the worse it gets.

On his way back, he glanced at the couch. His dad was sleeping, facing the TV. The artificial light accentuated his wrinkles, adding another decade to his 41 years old. Years ago, I… was seven. He was 34. He looked exhausted when he came back. Among things that time had taken from him, or caused him, it was exhaustion, too.

Good night, Dad.

Doppo returned and turned off the bedroom lights. The alarm clock cast a neon green glow. He knocked twice on the wardrobe. Dazai opened it.

“We had no sweet stuff.” Doppo gave him the tea. “Just this.”

“You don’t like me.” Dazai side-eyed him. “I know there’s cake.”

“My parents want cake, too.”

“Can I eat here?”

“No, you can’t. Bring the flashlight.”

Doppo left the dish on the table and dragged it to the middle of the room. The books and notebooks had to go. Dazai complained something unintelligible as he jumped out. As long as he’s quiet about it, not my problem. They sat down.

“What’s the filling?” Dazai asked, pointing the flashlight at the onigiri.

“No clue.” Doppo got one. “Gimme yours if you don’t like it.”

They whispered a “thank you for the food” and ate. Tuna and mayonnaise. A classic. With sesame seeds outside, it was always in the fridge.

Dazai threw no tantrum that time. There was one before dinner and another one during it. The bottle was open in the center of the table. It looked like an invitation to share. Earlier, we shared a glass… but this thing is 300 mL. I’ll let him have it.

“Did you make these?” Dazai asked.

“This quickly?” Doppo covered his mouth to finish chewing. “No way. My mom did.”

“Did she teach you?”

“How to cook? Kind of.” Doppo tore an edge of the seaweed sheet with his teeth. “I picked up a few things from school. Couldn’t even make some of them here.”

Like that one time with the wok. I could almost fit in it. Everyone was afraid of it… including me. But it was a cool class.

“She taught me how to make soap,” Doppo continued, “if you care. The ones in the bathroom are glycerin-based. They’re one of the easiest types.”

“Are you sure you can’t eat those?”

“I am. Why?”

Dazai drank tea and solemnly ignored the question. Doppo gave him the stinkiest eye. Wait right there. Did you steal it or eat it?

“Anyway.” Doppo chewed on the last piece of seaweed. “She’s self-employed. I deliver things for her around the district, sometimes.”

“She doesn’t work for your dad, then.”

“No. He’s a criminal expert.”

“Is he an expert in doing crime?”

What a way to interpret it. “It’s forensics. Mostly a laboratory job. Detecting illegal substances, for example.”

“He’s an expert in other people’s crime.” Dazai drank the rest of the tea. Yes, in a way. “I didn’t think that was possible to figure out.”

“You can figure out way more than you think.”

“Like?”

“He’s in the chemistry department. Like… finding traces of poison. If a place was set on fire on purpose. The materials for a bomb. And so on.”

“Is he going to know I came here?”

In previous times, yes. We couldn’t even make surprises for him. It’s not what you wanna know, so it’s not what I’m gonna say.

“If he examined the house, maybe,” Doppo replied. “But examinations are pricey. They take a long time, require many people, and lots of stuff. They only do that when it’s really necessary.” For example, if you killed yourself in here. “For a visit like this, no one would care. It’s pretty normal.”

And it was. For the well-liked, well-spoken, heart-of-the-party types. Or their orbiters. Visits aren’t weird. I’m the weird one, with one single friend. Dazai stared at the curtains, his chin in his hand, his elbow on the table. And you have… dunno.

“What’s on your mind?” Doppo asked.

“That ‘expert in other people’s crime’ thing.”

“Yes, and…?” He sounds as if he is talking to himself.

“What if someone committed a crime using an ability?”

That’s true. Dad probably dealt with those cases before. Doppo copied the thinking stance. I wonder if he transfers them to someone specific. Or if he investigates it himself and gives them reports.

“It depends on the crime, no? To leave traces. He never said anything to me, though,” Doppo replied. “So I don’t think it’s very common.”

“It is.”

“You know more about that than me. I learned it had a name today.”

Dazai didn’t reply. It was no peaceful silence; not a dangerous silence either. What was it? Impossible to tell.

“By the way,” Doppo said, “there’s something I wanna ask.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Who has abilities? I mean… not who’s ‘allowed’ to, nor ‘how many people’. Is it random…?”

“There are theories.” Dazai tapped on his face with his index finger. “Pacts, entities… I don’t believe much. Genetics sound more likely.”

“My parents don’t have one… from what I know.”

You asked a lot about them. Maybe because you don’t have a family.

“I don’t know much about genetics, but… It’s not on a one-to-one basis, either.” Dazai stopped tapping his finger. “You’re not a copy of your dad, or a male version of your mom. You’re a mix of both.”

“I told you not to open the door while they’re here.”

“I didn’t.” Dazai stared back, looking offended. “I saw your family pictures near the entrance.”

Yeah, two to two.

“It’s like cancer, I think.” Dazai lifted his index finger away from his face. “Unfavorable genetics will increase the odds. Having the genes, it’s worse if you smoke, but never one hundred percent. Even with good genetics, you can have it if you smoke. A ‘trigger’ of sorts.”

“It happens to some, not to others. With or without a predisposition. It makes more sense than it should,” Doppo concluded. What would be a “trigger” to an ability? “Oh. It’s twenty past ten… I’d better tidy all this.”

They got up. Doppo took the table to its original spot. The objects had their right places to be, with patience and help from the flashlight.

“I’ll take the dish away.” Doppo handed him the main futon and shikibuton. “Lay these on the floor.”

“I was thinking,” Dazai said. “You make stuff out of paper, right?”

“Like I said. What about it?”

“Your notebook. The green one. Have you ever tried using a page for that?”

“No. I don’t wanna waste good pages with that. It’s important.”

“What’s in it, after all?”

Shit. “It has…” Doppo stuttered. If you were thinking, I am not thinking any longer. “Erm… Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

He peeked through a crack of the open door. His dad was facing the back of the couch. Doppo left Dazai behind looking in sincere doubt.

The sink had space for a new dish. The piled-up dishes, both from the onigiri and slices of cake, would be dealt with at dawn. Throwing out the bottle, too. Mondays were to dispose of that type of garbage.

If he’d left the bedroom already, he’d brush his teeth in the washroom. Staring at the dishrack wasn’t helping much.

“A regular appointment book” didn’t feel like the truth at all. For the sake of his own truth, he’d rather let it die out. It was an unfinished task, given to him by wise hands, for a reason…

In that sense, other people were the problem, not him. Thoughts were rough diamonds; they only caused pain. Honesty should be noble, not an issue. What else to say, if not what was on the mind?

The world had gone crazy about that. It’d always been crazy. If there were pages he held closer to his heart and far from judgment, that was fine. They were his, only his, till they were someone else’s, too. He had the right.

The “right”… Doppo dried his face on the towel. You taught me a lot. Things about my ability I wouldn’t know otherwise. “Ability” was a shout echoing in the cliffs of the mind. It wouldn’t cease so soon.

I owe you that one.

When he returned, the futon and associated things were on the floor. With only a catch spread on it, that the flashlight snitched on.

“Can I sleep here?” Dazai asked.

“In the bedroom, yes. But that’s my spot. You get the closet.”

“Not bad, either.”

Did you think I’d kick you out? Dazai entered his den. Doppo took off his glasses and left them on the table. To lie down on the shikibuton with his back straight was a well-deserved prize. He took a deep breath and sighed with satisfaction.

“You asked me about my notebook,” Doppo said. “I’ll tell you if you don’t laugh.”

“If it’s funny, there’s nothing I can do.”

You know what type of “laughing” I mean. They wouldn’t meet again. It didn’t matter. “Okay… Whatever. I write everything that comes to mind. It sounds vague and stupid. I know that. Any notebook would serve the purpose.”

“So, it’s not an appointment book.”

“I used it as an appointment book today. There’s no ‘rule’ on what I can’t write. Any thought goes in there. It’s ‘what I want, for what I need’.”

“Journals aren’t uncommon,” Dazai commented. That’s not really it, but a good guess. “Is it a secret?”

“I told two people.” One of them gave me the idea, and the other one is my only friend. “Before today, I mean.”

“Did they read it?”

“No. They only know why I have it. And they’re not my parents.”

“Do you complain about your parents there?”

“I complain about them to their face. Even more often than in my notebook.” Doppo chuckled. “By the way. Why waste a page of it? Any random paper will do.”

“Well… It’s also a vague theory. You know what an egregore is, right?”

“I do.” I was gonna judge this chuunibyou talk, but it’s no use. “The more faith you put in a thing, the more power it gathers… kind of.”

“If you like that specific notebook, there’s a chance it has accumulated power. Especially if you write ‘everything that’s on your mind’.”

Doppo frowned. “And what would that change?”

“Maybe how tired you become, or how long it takes. We can’t be sure. You’ll have to try.”

“And you’d have to not touch the sheet.”

“Or not be even close to it. I myself don’t know the range of my ability.”

“You don’t?”

“If, for example… I step on the floor near someone. What’s the radius? If I’m in this closet and someone touches the door, does it work? Does it not?”

“Much to think about, huh.” It feels like an elaborate play-pretend. “I’m leaning more onto testing it out another time.”

“Just one thing.” Dazai sounded serious, like in no other moment. “Don’t tell that to anyone you see.”

“Abilities and all?” I can think of a few reasons, but… “Why do you say that?”

“Would you let me read your notebook?”

“No. It’s personal. If two other people know what it is, and not even in full…”

“Think of an ability the same way.”

Interesting. Earlier that day, Doppo had told him, without exactly doing so. Without knowing he “should not”. He wasn’t planning on telling it outright, if not even he knew what it was. You’re right, though. It always felt personal.

“An ability like yours…” Dazai hesitated, flipping the pages of a magazine. “It’s good to be careful, y’know.”

I do. In a world as the world is. What wouldn’t people do, under an absolute state of misery, with someone like him? Desperate people, or intoxicated people? He could, yes, intervene in their favor, ability or not. He also needed to be back home, day after day. Alive. In one piece. Safe.

“I promise,” Doppo said. “You don’t need to threaten anything.”

“Okay.”

It thundered outside. Behind closed doors, rain was a great friend. It cradled him to sleep, watered the plants, and cleaned the ashes in the sky. To the ones without a roof over their head, for a moment or as a condition, it was a whole other beast. Rain was an undesired guest of the worst type.

He could swear he heard a yawn from inside the wardrobe. Doppo yawned too. That one was, for sure, a peaceful silence. Why? It shouldn’t be.

Just for tonight, I know you, and you know me. Let’s believe we do, and not mention it any longer. I don’t know tomorrow. It still isn’t tomorrow, so, I know you.

“It’s twenty to eleven,” Doppo said. “I get up at ten past seven.”

“That’s early.”

“It’s not every morning. Just when I have something to do before class. My parents left dishes in the sink again. Seven-thirty is more common.”

“It’s still very early.”

“Class starts at eight-thirty. Everyone has to be there ten minutes earlier.”

“Going to the same place every day sounds like a drag.”

“Actually, it’s not. Well. It’s not a bed of roses, but it has to be done.”

“And seeing the same people.” Dazai chuckled. “Ugh.”

“There are bad apples in the bunch, yeah. I won’t lie.”

What do you do all day? Where do you go? What do you see? Doppo turned and twisted under the futon. The idea was itching his brain. What’s even that life? It’s more common than I think it is, but…

“Try out what I told you,” Dazai said. “With a page of the notebook, when I leave. It might not even work if I’m here.”

“Just to be sure, right? What should I make?”

“Money.”

“I’m not making that.”

“Do you have everything you want?”

“Hmm…” It’s like asking what my favorite food is. I forget every food ever. “No, but nothing occurs to me now.”

“A knife like mine?”

“I wouldn’t know where to keep it.”

“On a belt, like I do.”

“At home, I mean.” Doppo rolled his eyes. “I don’t go around with these things. I just can tell who does.”

“Have you ever broken your glasses?”

“Once, during a fight. Mom scared me more than the guy I beat up when she found out. I’ll consider that.”

“Another GBA?”

“They never break. You said that yourself.” If I make something for you, it returns to paper. Doppo buried his head in the pillow. I had an idea. “How do you like the book?”

“It’s good.”

“You can keep it. I’ll make another. Let’s see if the story comes out complete.”

I can’t remember the details, so… To boot, he’ll get a present. There was silence. “What’s up? Books like that are cheap. If the test goes wrong, I can buy another one.”

Dazai didn’t reply; he yawned. It’s getting late. The break will be over in less than two hours. Such is life.

“I should try to sleep.” Doppo turned his body to a more comfortable position. His back was greatly thanking him. “You can sleep, too, if you want.”

“Okay.”

“Or you can read.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I can’t see the flashlight if the door is closed. Don’t leave the bedroom.”

“Right.”

Hey, what’s wrong? Doppo revolved till he was lying on his stomach. He stared at the open wardrobe. Dazai pointed the flashlight at himself from the bottom up. Monosyllabic, all of a sudden.

“I’m not telling you to sleep. I’m the one who needs to,” Doppo said. “Don’t tell me you need another bathroom break.”

Dazai looked away. “I don’t.”

“Why that face, then?”

“I can’t return your book. I’ll—”

“You don’t have to. It’s yours.” Don’t kill yourself, though. “Then… Good night, I guess.”

Doppo fixed his position again. The door closed. Not completely, or it’d have hit the frame.

Is he upset? Not much I can do… If the night lasted twenty-four hours, they’d talk about more irrelevant things. It’d never last that long. It was what it was; time passed, whether they liked it or not.

He closed his eyes. Focusing on something to fall asleep was the usual. The rain would guide him there. It worked like a charm, better than any meditation technique.

For a moment, he could swear he heard a late “good night”. The ominous limbo between sleep and wakefulness was a big trickster. I’ll believe it. For today, I will.

Waking up was perceiving the world in parts.

First, the pillow, too warm under his face. Then, how soft the futon was, over… almost all his body. One bare foot was out.

Thirdly, a downhearted sigh, which wasn’t his.

Doppo blinked a few times. It didn’t get him rid of the blurred sight; he needed his glasses. They were on the table. An annoying crack in the curtains was open. There’s sunlight on my face. I’ll go close it. Then, it closed on its own.

Oh, he’s still here.

“Good morning,” Dazai said.

“Ugh.” Doppo lifted himself with one elbow as a support. “Good morning.”

“The rain stopped.”

“Yeah, I could hear that. I couldn’t. Whatever.”

He looked for Dazai in the bedroom. Dazai stood in front of the curtains. He had his black outfit and white shirt back on. The pajama set he borrowed should be lost in the wardrobe. He stayed to say goodbye, at least.

“Huh?” Doppo squinted toward the alarm clock. “What time is it? I can’t see shit.”

“Seven-twenty.”

“The alarm didn’t go off? It should have, by now. I didn’t hear it. Or I didn’t set it…?”

“You did.”

I’m just surprised about how you even know that.

Doppo put his glasses on, gotten from the table. Dazai was in the same spot, hands in his pockets. The zipper of his hoodie was closed to the middle, protecting the book he got as a gift.

“You’ve heard it go off, then,” Doppo said. “And turned it off before I woke up.”

“Actually, I turned it off before it went off. I saw it was set to ten past seven.”

“And you were going to leave me alarm-less?” Doppo frowned. “Is it a prank for me to be late?”

“You look like the type who’s never late.” Dazai looked away. “Even with no alarm at all.”

Compliment or insult, that is the question. “Still. The alarm clock is my guarantee. If I don’t wake up, it wakes me up.” Doppo scratched his eye under the lens. “What if I didn’t wake up and that thing was off?”

“You also look like you wake up when people enter your bedroom.”

Those are correct assumptions… “You were technically already in here.”

“Turning it off changed nothing. You woke up. So, whatever.” Dazai shrugged. “Whatever,” my ass. “Going a bit off-topic…”

“Hm?”

“You’re speaking in a normal tone now.”

“My dad is out jogging at this time.” Well spotted. “Dunno if Mom is there. She told me she’d leave early today. But she isn’t a light sleeper anymore, so…”

“She used to be one?”

“Before sleeping pills.”

“Hmm…”

What a random talk. Doppo let himself fall face-up. What an odd moment.

He yawned his heart out. The futon could fuse with his body and he wouldn’t mind. Or rather, he would. Time flew in the early morning. The class representative can never be selfishly late. Much less on the first day.

He sat again. Then, using the table as support, he stood up.

There was no thunderstorm raging outside. No rain, not even a drizzle. I wonder if it’ll be a sunny day. Birds were chirping in the neighboring trees. Silence by then was unique. It occurred only before life out there had started.

“I’ll go put my uniform on…” Doppo said. “Oops. I didn’t get socks.”

He opened the wardrobe for that. They were in small spirals for each pair. Dazai followed his every step with his gaze only, standing by the balcony.

Doppo sat on the futon to put on socks. Part of him wanted to fool around for longer, a self-centered part he wouldn’t listen to. I’d be twenty-four hours back in time, too, if I could. Dazai opened the balcony, peeking as if it were interesting at all.

The morning breeze lifted the curtains. Dazai’s sneakers were outside, ready to be put on. Telling by the light… It looks like a cloudy day. It still hurt his unaccustomed eyes.

Dazai had his back to the bedroom. Waiting, stalling, hesitating. “I’m off,” he said. “I’ll add your name to my suicide note.”

“Come on. I don’t want you to die.”

Dazai looked over his shoulder. The black hood, not on his head, covered part of his expression.

“Do you…” Doppo started. What do I even ask? “Have a phone number?”

“No.” Thought so. Still barefoot, Dazai turned around and stepped into the bedroom. “But I’ll see you around.”

Doppo crossed his legs on the futon. Gravity seemed stronger at that spot. “Okay… I guess?” What do you mean, you’ll see me around?

Dazai kneeled and approached him. Huh?! More gently than whatever guess, he kissed Doppo’s cheek. Zero shame, zero warning, and the intent…? His face was burning more and more at every second, not even to repel it.

It ended as it started. Dazai stood up and opened the curtain some more. Without worrying about shoelaces, he slid his feet in the sneakers and looked outside. Swinging his body back into the bedroom, he waved goodbye.

And left.

Doppo blinked quickly. His fingers rested on his cheek. His skin remembered the touch. It would remember for as long as it thought necessary.

I’ve never gotten one of these. Not even from a girl. This situation… No. What a way to say goodbye. Why? What for? Am I dreaming?

He lifted his head. The curtains flapped in the wind, bringing the smell of wet earth. I think I am.

It was seven-thirty.

I’m late.