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“Shitty Dazai. Don’t you dare forget me.”
There it was. The last time he said my name.
In a world where it is not uncommon for people to have abilities, I am the only one with an anti-ability. And I hate it.
My “ability” is called No Longer Human. It nullifies the ability of anyone I touch. Unfortunately, it also nullifies the memories the ability-user has of me. While this has been helpful at times – such as when fighting various enemies – it has cost me many friends. Any relationship, really. My memory-erasing also works on people without abilities. Anyone I touch, skin-to-skin, forgets me.
So, I am alone.
Working for the Port Mafia wasn’t bad, per se. I was their best kept secret. Mostly because all I had to do to remain a secret was slap people in the face and feed them a new lie about who I was whenever they got too close to my identity. Only three people in the Mafia knew my real name and history. Mori-san knows because, well, it’s Mori-san. He recruited me, took me in and forced me to figure out a way to interact with people without seemingly every brush of the shoulder making me a nameless ghost. Once we determined that skin contact was a necessary part of my ability, he ordered me to be that nameless ghost to all but a few people chosen people.
He never told me, but I know he has a failsafe against me using my ability on him. I know what it is. I can get around it and he knows I can. Until now, I didn’t think I ever would because well, Mori-san has been there for me. Yes, he is a creep and yes, he used me as his invisible weapon. And no, I’m not his subordinate anymore – haven’t been for four years.
Still. He noticed me and kept me around. I owe him something, I guess. And it is a bit of an insurance for me. The Mafia has one who knows my ability and the havoc I can wreak with it. And anyway, while I was with the Port Mafia, he also kept me well-stocked on my necessary bandages and gifted me his coat as a further preventative from contact. So, I don’t cause trouble for them. Not as much as I could.
Odasaku knew who I was. His ability, Flawless, somehow interacted with mine so that he knew when I was about to touch him, even though it didn’t threaten his life. So he got to know me. But he’s gone now, killed by Mimic. And after his death – after he touched me – I left the Port Mafia.
I’m with the ADA now. They all know my ability. I have had to start my relationship over at least once with almost all of them, mostly because of accidental touches. Kunikida I start over with almost on the daily. It is one of my few joys, knowing his buttons and pushing him to the limits of his sanity until he tries to strangle me out of frustration. He never understands how I can get to him to easily. I wrap my bandages up to my chin now to prevent introductions every half hour, though.
Atsushi, the naïve boy, has met me almost many times as Kunikida has. His empathic little heart sees a little too deep beneath the surface of my emotions. He notices each new suicide attempt and reaches to make sure I’m okay. And then I have to remind him why he is standing by a trash can. Or a trawling net. Or by a knocked over chair under a perfectly solid crossbeam. I appreciate how much the boy cares, even though he barely knows me.
Well, knew me. I touched him again but refrained from Introduction #357. It’s better that he doesn’t know. I didn’t reintroduce myself to any of them. Ranpoe, Kunikida, Kenji, Yosano, Fukuzawa, the Tanizaki siblings…all they have left of me is my messy desk and my sparse dorm room. It was tricky making contact with everyone, but since I successfully touched Ranpoe first, I completed the task. They’ll be safe now.
Touching Mori-san was my next task. This was quite simple to do, as I had already set up wayward smugglers and rebellious business fronts to keep Black Lizard, Akutagawa, and the other task forces occupied. Surprising Elise-chan was easy, as well. I simply showed up at dinner while she was whining for her second piece of cake. One drop through the ceiling vent and a tap on my previous boss’s pleading face and Elise-chan mercifully shut up. Mori-san gave me a confused look but didn’t follow when I simply walked out the double doors of his office. I expect he will know who I am by this time tomorrow evening, but it won’t really matter by then.
My final task of the day was both the easiest and the hardest. I did nothing but pretend to be dead while my chibi and the leader of Rats in the House of the Dead did all the work. My chibi fought Fyodor’s dragon well. I had predicted exactly what both of them would do. I predicted Shibusawa’s collection and Fyodor’s betrayal. And I predicted my chibi’s choice to lose control.
“Oh, grantors of dark disgrace…”
My chibi and I knew that he was capable of more than just manipulation of the gravity around him. We knew he could do more than stop bullets and walk on ceilings. He has done more before. Just once. It nearly killed him. We had been working as Soukoku for over a year by that point and I didn’t want to lose our history – as much as we got on each other’s nerves. We understood each other, despite it all. And we had something…more. And I hadn’t wanted to have to start over right when we were about to name that something more. But he was dying. Arahabaki was killing him, running him into the grave. So, I touched him. And he reverted to hating me and we started over.
Now here we are. Years later. Four years after I left the Port Mafia, left our partnership. Still somehow friends. Again, somehow something more. This time, though, right after we named it. My chibi took me out last night. There was no kissing or cuddling – still haven’t figured that part out. But it was nice. We talked and ate, and I got lost in my chibi’s bright blue eyes. He wore his gloves, and I wore my bandages and we held hands. I knew going out would make today hurt even more. But can you blame me for wanting just one more happy memory, even if he won’t share it with me?
“…do not wake me again.”
Just before my chibi and I parted ways for our separate tasks this evening, he turned to me, thumped my chest, and fought to keep from spilling tears. “Shitty Dazai. Don’t you dare forget me.”
Now, as I wake up on the ground, surrounded by the remains of the dragon and my chibi’s destruction, I feel weight in my lap. My chibi, passed out from his fight, arms draped around my neck. Somehow in my half-poisoned state, I managed to thread my fingers through his hair, nullifying Arahabaki and tearing all knowledge of me from my chibi’s mind. I sit there for a moment, gazing at him. Because I can’t do any more damage, I swipe my thumb across his cheek, wiping away blood. I run my hands along his body, checking for breaks and wounds. He seems whole, physically. And when he wakes, he won’t know he is missing anything. So, gently, I push him off my lap and arrange him comfortably on his coat, his hat set next to him. He will sleep peacefully, and I know he will recover. He did last time.
I stroke his cheek one more time, knowing I must leave him and everyone else to go ensure the end of The Collector and Rats of the House of the Dead. They are all less likely to be harmed for my sake if they have no memory of me. I bend over and press a kiss to my chibi’s forehead. I cement the sweaty, cologned smell of him firm into my memory. I wanted him. He was worth wanting. And everything in my life worth wanting I have lost the moment I obtained it. But I am certain.
“I will never forget you, my chibi. My Chuuya. Goodbye.”