Chapter Text
Yep, y'all are getting another cover, enjoy!
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Christmas Spirit - a mood of benevolence, goodwill, charity, and joyous festivity associated with the Christmas season, characterized by selfless acts, generosity, forgiveness, and a focus on togetherness and giving to others.
Or, as Chuuya liked to call it: Ignoring the pressing issues in the country in favor of festivities only those who aren’t directly affected by those issues can enjoy properly.
“Come on Ruri! It’s snowing! Let’s build a huuuuge snowman!” A little girl called out to another, the two of them taking each other by the hand and running down the street without a care in the world. Chuuya sidestepped them to ensure they wouldn’t be running into him. They danced and twirled around. Laughed and clapped. They were in their own little world with the snowflakes, everything else fazing out of existence.
Chuuya, despite his warm jacket, was freezing. The winter’s unforgiving cold sat deep in his bones. It settled there seven years ago and never left, even as spring and summer rolled around. There was no escaping it.
“Chuuya-kun? Are you coming in?” A voice asked from a few meters ahead. Chuuya shook his head and caught up to the person it belonged to. “My apologies, ane-san. I zoned out. The woman offered him a sad smile. “I noticed. It happens a lot when it’s cold and snows, doesn’t it?” Chuuya fixed his eyes on his shoes. “I suppose it does.”
Stepping into Kouyou’s establishment, while much warmer, also brought about an overwhelming wave of expensive perfume, masking the scent of everything else. Though Chuuya would take this over the stench of sweat, blood, injury and infection any day of the week.
“Will you be visiting your friends today? Kouyou asked as they passed by the overcrowded bar area and into the backstage area. Chuuya responded with a muted nod. “If I may. Most of your staff is in today so I think they can do without my help for a few hours.” Kouyou briefly rested her hand on his head. “You may. Visiting them from time to time is important, especially around this time of the year.”
That way they won’t be alone. Frozen. Cold.
Chuuya still felt cold on the inside.
“Here are the new makeup articles, Miri.” He spoke quietly, walking into the dressing room. The woman turned around with a warm smile, though Chuuya immediately lowered his head. He had no interest in seeing her in the way too revealing pink dress she was wearing. Too much skin. It made his own crawl and not in any way that could be considered ‘good’.
“Thank you, Chuuya dear. You’re a lifesaver.” Chuuya nodded and turned around. “Anytime.” Then he left. Removing himself from the room and the nearby door leading to the club area, walking all the way back into the courtesan quarters until he reached his own.
‘Out of place’ was one way to put it. How he didn’t fit his room at all. He wasn’t a courtesan. Hell no. But his room still looked like it belonged to one. Because it did, before he moved in. He hadn’t had the energy to change anything about the room and he wasn’t even sure how long he was going to stay there.
Kouyou had offered him his own room, a warm place to rest, regular meals, all in exchange for some easy work as a waiter. Chuuya had been cold, starving, falling apart. Refusing the offer would’ve been plain stupid of him. So he accepted.
Chuuya threw himself onto his bed, staring at the warm ceiling light.
Would you guys have wanted this for me or would you have wanted me to leave with you?
I, for one, would’ve liked to leave with you.
Looking outside, staring at the snow, Chuuya had no motivation whatsoever to leave the place again. Not that he ever really had any motivation in general. Not anymore. He didn’t remember the last time he did. Must’ve been before everything. That was a long time ago. He closed his eyes so as to not see the snow anymore. Alas, it didn’t make anything better. Because snow was replaced by their faces, looking at him, smiling, amidst the life threatening situation they were in. Proud that he made it this far.
I’m sorry.
Chuuya opened his eyes again and their faces dissipated, but the memories remained.
I’m so sorry.
Chuuya sat up on his bed again and stared at his feet. He really should go visit them now. That way, just maybe, he’d return before the temperatures dropped even further as the coldest part of the night approaches. And so, begrudgingly, he got up once more, packing a small bag with the items he wanted to bring. Then he grabbed the thickest winter coat he could find and made his way out of the building and back into the streets, only briefly informing Kouyou of where he was going.
The Christmas lights decorating the streets were still so unfamiliar, even though they’d been there for a few days now. Chuuya used to be amazed by them when he was a little kid, strolling through the festive streets with his family, marveling at every light and piece of decoration as though it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
Now his family was gone. And it had been so long since he’d last seen Christmas decor that it made him feel like an alien discovering earth’s traditions for the first time.
His destination was a little further out of town. In a location that could be considered respectful, but was also out of sight of most people, only there to be witnessed by those actively visiting. Because on a good day, no one wished to remember them, and those who did, didn’t need to be reminded.
The further out he went, the thicker the layer of snow covering everything became. White. Cold. There was no blood, but considering the path he was walking, where it led, there might as well be. Chuuya looked at the ground. There were footsteps in the snow. They looked fresh. Like whoever walked ahead of him had just gotten here and hadn’t returned yet. Which was strange, considering rarely anyone visited them now that winter had come and all of them would rather spend their time inside with their families.
Maybe it was someone else who had lost everything.
The stone tablets came into view, their large, imposing shadows looming against the backdrop of the night. There were too many. Way too many. So many, in fact, that they had no space with the rest of the graves. They weren’t even graves, per se. As most of the people remembered on these stones had never been properly retrieved. Their bodies either disappeared without a trace or had been thrown onto a mountain with many others and lowered into pits on the ground. Nothing remained. Only their names and their memories.
Chuuya passed by the stone plate he’d seen too many times to count, greeting those who’d come here.
To remember all those who have given their lives in the name of our country. We thank you for your service and wish for you to rest peacefully, far away from any pain.
A courtesy, at best. Merely something they slapped here to pretend they ever cared about any of these people. They were just names. As soon as they stopped breathing, as soon as they were carved into those stone tablets, they were forgotten by everyone.
Chuuya would never forget.
He didn’t stop by the regular stone tablets. He could hardly search their names as he did not know their real ones. And right now, in the dark, he couldn’t read anything regardless.
It mattered not. For he had his own memorial stones. Just for them. Hidden, so they wouldn’t be destroyed. But still nearby. Chuuya would find them. Always.
He had no bodies to bury. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have made them graves. So he did. Carved their stones with his own hands on a cold, lonely night after he returned home. Not that this town could actually be called his home. He no longer had a home.
“I’m back.” He spoke quietly, arriving at his destination. He didn’t care for the cold when he kneeled down on the ground, reaching out to gently brush the snow off each of the five stone markers. Five people. Five names. Five lives sacrificed in the war. Five souls lost to the battlefield. Now no one but Chuuya remembered them. He was all they had left. And they’d been all he had left after losing everything, even his right to live.
Now, he had nothing.
He set down his bag and opened it, taking out the grave lights he brought. Shielding them from the wind with his own body, he lit them up one by one, collecting the old, burnt-out ones and placing the new ones where they belonged. With each of the lights, he wished his friends some warmth in this frozen land. Were it summer, he would’ve brought flowers. But in December, no flowers bloomed, so this would have to do.
“The town is in a festive mood. Everyone’s getting ready with fancy bright decorations and all the stores are selling Christmas-themed wares. Most of them either act like none of this happened or like this is some grand victory that must be celebrated. And sure, it is the first Christmas since the war is over. Yet I can’t help but feel miserable because so many were lost in some pointless struggle for power. Why are humans so deadset on fighting each other to death anyway? It brings misery to everyone involved.”
“It’s because humans are obsessed with exerting power over other individuals. It makes them feel like they’re on top of the world. And of course it’s the worst kind of those humans making the decisions for the country, dooming everyone involved.”
Chuuya all but jumped at the unfamiliar voice and whipped around with wide eyes, hand snapping to his waist for a gun that wasn’t even there. Still, he got into a fighting stance and prepared to defend both his life and his friends' memorial stones. …Until he saw the person who spoke. And while he still remained on guard, they really did not look like a threat.
A kid. Just like him. With pale skin, a dead expression and even deader dark brown eyes staring right into his own. The boy couldn’t be older than Chuuya himself and he was wearing a black coat with a fluffy hood that was clearly way too big for him. He looked like a ghost. He looked miserable. He looked like death itself. But somehow, Chuuya couldn’t find it in himself to be afraid.
“Who are you?” He asked the boy. “And what are you doing here?” The boy lowered his head. “Paying respect to the dead. Just as you seem to be. I didn’t know there were graves over here as well.” He took a step closer and the calm, intuitive feeling in Chuuya’s chest assigned him a ‘not-threatening’ label. …So he relaxed from his stance and hesitatingly allowed the boy to step closer.
“They’re not official graves. I merely wished to have a separate place to pay my respects to these five people in particular. They were my friends, after all.” He spoke quietly. The stranger crouched down in front of the graves and closed his eyes. “Making friends on the frontlines. It’s something that will inevitably cause you great grief. Why did you do it?”
Who the fuck was this weirdo to ask?!
Chuuya answered anyway.
“Because amidst all the blood, all the murder, they were the only thing in the world keeping me sane. And for that, I will appreciate them for the rest of my life. I’d rather live with grief than knowing no one cared about my life at all.” He declared, honest. After which the stranger didn’t say another word and merely bowed his head in respect.
Chuuya took a moment to look at him, really look. The boy didn’t look like a soldier, yet somehow he still seemed like he’d seen the horrors. The vaguely odd aura. The dead-eyed-fish stare. The quiet sadness he was showing the graves.
Scarred. But not by bullet wounds.
“Are you here ‘cause you lost family?” Chuuya asked. The boy shook his head. “Both my parents are alive and well and I don’t have any siblings.” Straightforward. Direct. To the point. Chuuya kept going. “Friends, then?” He continued asking. But the guy just shook his head again. “I’m alone in the world. And all I want is to pay my respects to the fallen. Each and every single one of them.”
Yes. Definitely a weirdo.
“You’re strange.” Chuuya said quietly. “I get that a lot.” The stranger responded. No emotions. No nothing. Just plain words with no flavor. Chuuya did not know what else to say and so merely settled next to the boy in the snow, resuming his quiet grieving. Until…
“What were their names?” The other boy asked, raising his head and looking at Chuuya. Still the same, empty eyes. Chuuya shrugged. “Don’t know their real names, actually. We all went by codenames within the group.” The brunette hummed. “Their code names then.” And while Chuuya had no idea why he was asking those questions, he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to tell others about them, even if just so more would remember them.
“Piano Man, Lippmann, Iceman, Doc and Albatross.”
Saying their names out loud always left a sour taste on his tongue. More so than thinking about them. Still, he occasionally did it anyway. Because if he didn’t, then who would?
“Piano Man, Lippmann, Iceman, Doc and Albatross, hm?” The boy repeated. …Well, apparently he would. Just hearing another voice say their names, acknowledge them and their sacrifice, it filled a small part of Chuuya’s dead heart with bittersweet warmth.
“May your souls rest in peace, brave soldiers. I know not your age, nor your stories, but I believe all of you have gone too soon.” The stranger spoke quietly. …Before pulling something out of his coat. A… Flower? Multiple flowers? But there was something weird about them. They didn’t look–
“They’re papercrafts.” The boy said. Like he read his mind. “Purple Hyacinth flowers don’t bloom during winter.” Like it was the most logical explanation for crafting flowers by hand. Specifically such complicated flowers?!
Absolutely, a complete and utter weirdo.
…The boy also brought out a pen and scrawled words on each and every flower stem. Names. Precisely, the names Chuuya had just given him. Then he looked up at Chuuya again. “Which gravemarker belongs to whom?” Chuuya, not knowing what else to do, pointed each of them out.
The brunette carefully placed the flowers down next to the grave lights and then stood back up, brushing the snow off his coat. He politely lowered his head. “Thank you for showing me those stones. I will remember all of them from now on.”
He looked like he was about to leave. Disappearing into the shadows like a phantom. Like he was never there in the first place. Like he was just another ghost, haunting Chuuya’s mind day by day.
Chuuya didn’t want him to leave. Something about the boy evoked curiosity in his mind. An achievement, considering that Chuuya wasn’t feeling much aside from grief and apathy on most days. It had also been a while since he had spoken to someone his age. And before he could scold himself in his head and tell his brain that this wasn’t a good idea, that connections in general weren’t a good idea, the words were already said.
“Wait.” The boy stopped in his tracks and tilted his head. “If you wait a few more minutes we can go back together. It will be safer that way.”
The boy didn’t say a word, but he ceased all movement and stood in place like a statue, the only indicator of his human presence being the clouds of breath whenever he exhaled into the cold winter air.
Chuuya took a few more moments to speak to his friends before he bid them farewell, promising to come back for a longer chat another day. Then he packed his things and got up, turning around and walking past his strange new companion who silently slipped in place at his side, footsteps so light he might as well be floating. One more thing making Chuuya question whether this was an actual human next to him or if he was finally going insane.
They walked back towards the town, its warm light glowing bright, guiding their way through the snow. They passed the big memorial stone slates and Chuuya noticed that all of them had one of the brunette’s purple hyacinths decorating their space.
He didn’t ask. He had a feeling the boy wouldn’t give him an actual answer.
The snow was thicker now. On the ground and in the air. Their first set of footsteps was almost completely gone. Were it not for the lights, it would be difficult to locate the town. Chuuya shuddered. Not because of the cold, no. He’d grown used to it. But the snow was doing something to him.
Cold. Freezing. Coughing. Blood on the snow. Too-thin tents that barely protected from the icy winds. Weak people. Sick. Suffering. They couldn’t fight. They couldn’t travel.
They couldn’t afford losing any tents. Not to set up a temporary sickzone. They had to keep moving. They had to keep moving. No light. Just snow. They had to leave. They couldn’t take them with them. All of those kids, so young with so much life ahead of them.
They had to leave them in the snow. Commands from the higher ups. Anyone who’s too weak gets left behind. Anyone who doesn’t obey their commands–
“Careful.” The voice was much firmer than before. Chuuya snapped out of his thoughts and his eyes widened as he recognized that he had almost walked off the bridge across the small river cutting through the landscape. He quickly jumped backwards and landed right against the other boy’s chest who caught and helped to steady him. Shit. Need to pay better attention.
“Keep your head clear when traversing dangerous terrain.” The other spoke quietly and let go of Chuuya, taking a step back. How fucking embarrassing. The redhead nodded and walked closer to the middle for the remainder of the bridge. “Got distracted.”
The stranger stuck closer for the rest of the way.
Neither of the boys looked like they fit into the festive town. And that somehow made Chuuya feel like he fit somewhere, at least. Good to know that not everybody was as on board with the Christmas season as most people. The brunette certainly wasn’t. In this colorful town, he looked even more like a ghost than he did amongst memorials of the dead.
What kind of person are you? Chuuya wanted to ask.
What’s your story?
Obviously, he wasn’t going to ask those questions. Not now, at least.
The snow fell heavily.
“How far away from here do you live?” That, he did ask. The stranger looked ahead at an invisible point Chuuya couldn’t see. “30 more minutes of walking.” And before Chuuya could stop himself…
“Do you want to stay at my place until the snow lets up a little? It can’t be fun nor safe to go home like this.”
The stranger seemed to contemplate his words for a moment before he slowly nodded. “Alright.” He said. He really wasn’t wasting a word more than absolutely necessary.
“What’s your name?” Chuuya asked. Another minute of contemplation and silence. For whatever reason. Then.
“Osamu Dazai.”
“Chuuya Nakahara. Let’s get inside quickly.”