Chapter 47

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A goddamned mission, a goddamned world, goddamned suspicion.

If these thoughts of his had possessed physical form, Takizawa Sei would have pinned them to the ground and ground them into the dirt!

In the brief span of half an hour, he and Chuuya had crossed swords countless times. Even without needing to remain on full alert, deliberately dredging up the past had left him exhausted.

“Where was the place you worked?”

“A small automobile parts factory. The owner was a bald middle-aged man. He looked a little sleazy, but he was very kind and treated his wife and daughter well.”

“How did you meet him?”

“I was out wandering when his car hit me and injured my toe.”

Nakahara Chuuya stared into his eyes. “On the day you went to collect your final month’s wages, I was a little angry. Why was that?”

“What? You were angry?” Takizawa Sei thought for a moment. “Was it because I came back late that day and didn’t bring any wages home? You thought I’d been swindled?”

“…Yes.”

“So you were angry back then.” Takizawa Sei reflected on his own dullness. That day, he had probably been too caught up in the complicated emotions of finally meeting his mission target, Dazai Osamu. “I’m sorry, Chuuya. I didn’t realize you were worried about me.”

Nakahara Chuuya drew a deep breath.

“Do you remember the time Shirase robbed a jewelry store?”

Takizawa Sei was astonished. “He robbed a jewelry store? When? Why would he do something like that? Even if his thoughts were occasionally rather filthy, he wouldn’t go so far as to commit such a stupid crime!”

“…”

Nakahara Chuuya clicked his tongue.

Every answer was correct.

Even where there were minor discrepancies, they fell within the range of differences in their perceptions and personalities.

For some reason, Nakahara Chuuya grew restless. It was probably the restlessness of something about to be proven. An unnamed flame burned in his heart, scorching his throat dry. Even the gentleness on his face became difficult to maintain. He almost revealed a twisted expression, but soon returned to calm.

His blazing eyes sank beneath obscure shadows, revealing a startling intensity of concentration.

The young man’s voice dropped, as though even moving his tongue to form the syllables had become difficult.

“One last question.”

“Are you dead?”

Just as expected.

Takizawa Sei had guessed this would come up.

His expression remained calm—a calm that seemed almost numb, almost liberated. His mind returned to the hail of bullets from that time, to the sensation of being held tightly in the arms of the black-haired young man while his consciousness still lingered, and to the hoarse cries of grief.

Takizawa Sei said, “Yes. I did die.”

He made no attempt to disguise the truth. “I died four years ago. The process of dying was too brief, so I left no last words. Yet it was also too long, because it lasted four entire years. So can you understand what I mean? Now, Takizawa Sei’s status as a dead man ought to be erased.”

He could feel the emotions Nakahara Chuuya was suppressing.

No matter how desperately he tried to conceal them, those emotions were like surging seawater, stirring up wind and waves beneath his composed exterior. They left him at a loss, and in the endless struggle between reason and feeling, they gave rise to a faint hope—one that seemed capable of spreading across the wilderness like fire.

Nakahara Chuuya clenched his fists.

Takizawa Sei had not died?

Takizawa Sei had returned from the dead?

“Heh…” Nakahara Chuuya let out a soft laugh. “Do you know how badly I wanted to punch you just now?”

In a voice almost reduced to a roar, he said through clenched teeth, “I thought you and that bastard Dazai had joined forces to put on an act and fool me completely! If that had really been the case, I would never have forgiven you so easily—”

He seized Takizawa Sei by the collar, dragged his head down, and glared furiously into those slightly startled eyes. “How long have you been back? Why didn’t you come find me after you returned?! I was right there! I never went anywhere!”

Takizawa Sei instinctively reached for his own neck. The reaction was so quick that, in Nakahara Chuuya’s eyes, it was unmistakably conspicuous.

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Ah… The wound…

“You still haven’t told me who hurt you!”

“You ask too many questions too quickly, Chuuya…” Takizawa Sei laughed helplessly. “I didn’t come looking for you simply because… I was afraid.”

Afraid.

The meaning carried by that word left Nakahara Chuuya stunned.

He unconsciously loosened his grip and blinked in bewilderment.

“…What are you afraid of?”

Takizawa Sei deliberately gave him a miserable smile. “What do you think?”

He watched the remorse deepen in the red-haired young man’s eyes. Then he abruptly planted a hand on Chuuya’s head and said through gritted teeth, “What do you think I was afraid of, huh?! Is it that easy to see you? If I suddenly showed up at your home or workplace, wouldn’t your subordinates mistake me for an enemy and shoot me?! I have no connections and no source of information now. How was I supposed to find you?! And then what? What’s the difference between that time you squeezed my neck and punching me in the face?!”

Takizawa Sei ranted furiously, “Aren’t you still suspicious of me now?”

Nakahara Chuuya had his head held down. If even one subordinate had seen the scene through the window, they would have been so shocked that their throat would have seized.

Good heavens! The Port Mafia’s Gravity Manipulator, Lord Nakahara, was being treated with such outrageous disrespect—!!!

And Lord Gravity Manipulator wasn’t resisting. Not resisting!

Nakahara Chuuya pressed his lips together and allowed Takizawa Sei to do as he pleased.

Seeing his obedient appearance, the blue-eyed young man seemed to realize something. He stopped his hand, then gently smoothed the disheveled strands of hair he had mussed.

His mood… had improved a little.

Realizing that his relationship with Chuuya remained as it had always been, without any barrier between them, Takizawa Sei’s suspended heart quietly settled.

Once again, he pulled Nakahara Chuuya into his arms.

The red-haired young man stiffened as Takizawa Sei’s presence enveloped him. After two seconds, however, he raised his arms and embraced him in return, as though some knot in his heart had finally loosened.

“…Welcome back.”

His voice held a smile. In an intimate, familiar tone, he called him, “Sei.”

The red glow surrounding him silently faded.

Yet this was merely Nakahara Chuuya’s reaction after determining that Takizawa Sei could not harm him. From an angle Takizawa Sei could not see, Chuuya’s eyes darkened, revealing a chilling malice and razor-sharp killing intent.

“So… who resurrected you?”

This world might possess abilities capable of bringing the dead back to life.

But how could such a thing come without a price?

The ability known as Please Don’t Die was already so rare that it bordered on a miracle, making its wielder a resource coveted by powerful factions. Then how could an ability capable of resurrection possibly remain unknown and untouched? Was its user some benevolent madman who would revive any corpse they happened to find in the street, heedless of ethics and common sense?

And there was one ability Nakahara Chuuya knew of that could grant a person the very concept of returning from the dead.

—The Picture Album.

Reading a corpse and calling it back from the other shore: a false shell possessing memories and a few emotions, but no soul.

Ha.

Rage churned in Nakahara Chuuya’s chest, mingling with the sorrow that even his best friend’s rest had been disturbed. The moment he imagined Takizawa Sei being dragged into conspiracies, exploited, and tormented even after death, the string of his reason seemed to hurt as though it were about to snap.

“Chuuya, that hurts.” Takizawa Sei noticed the arms around him gradually losing control and spoke up in warning. “As for who resurrected me… I don’t know. Someone found me by the sea.”

Once again, he concealed the existence of the Transmigration Bureau. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Just consider it a miracle. No one forced me into anything.”

Yet although Nakahara Chuuya released him, he seemed not to react to the answer.

The next second, Takizawa Sei heard his trembling voice.

“Sei, your neck…”

“Hm?”

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Takizawa Sei touched the bandaged skin around his neck…

It was wet. The wound had split open, and blood was seeping out.

His body had been left in a strange state, as though he might die at any moment. Naturally, his blood still flowed, yet he also seemed incapable of dying, because the wound would not worsen and the bleeding remained slight. In daily life, as long as he applied hemostatic medicine on schedule and wrapped the area in bandages that kept out the air, there was no problem.

But just now, Nakahara Chuuya had violently forced him to the ground, and Chuuya’s fingers had pressed against the wound. The fragile blood vessels had protested.

“It’s nothing. I’ll apply some medicine when I get back…” Takizawa Sei said indifferently, only to be attacked by Chuuya.

“Let me see!”

Takizawa Sei panicked. “Wait! What are you doing?! I told you there’s nothing to see… Let go, let go—ah, you bastard—”

Takizawa Sei was pressed down onto the sofa in the VIP room. The soft leather would have been quite comfortable if another person had not been forcing him against it. As the bandages around his neck came loose inch by inch, the strength of his struggles gradually diminished. In the end, he sighed in resignation and lowered his eyes in self-imposed isolation.

“I told you…”

Beneath the trembling pupils of the red-haired young man, he spoke softly.

“…There’s nothing worth looking at.”

There was a bloody hole in his neck.

Nakahara Chuuya naturally recognized what it was.

A gunshot wound.

A firearm’s power did not merely leave behind a bullet hole. Its impact would also cause the surrounding skin to burst, creating an injury far more terrible than the size of the bullet itself. Yet Takizawa Sei’s neck had, bizarrely, only a single hole.

What was this? A walking corpse?

Nakahara Chuuya felt his limbs grow cold. Even the mind heated by the reunion with his friend rapidly cooled.

Looking at Takizawa Sei’s evasive expression, the red-haired young man released a painful whimper from his throat.

Why had something like this happened to him?

Takizawa Sei was somewhat withdrawn. When he saw Chuuya stop, he reached out to touch his cheek and sighed. “I told you not to look.”

He shifted his waist, indicating that Chuuya should get off him. “Wrap it up for me. You should have logistical staff with you on missions, right? Did you bring any medicine? You can apply it here.”

Nakahara Chuuya hurriedly called someone in.

His gaze flickered. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Just now… I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’m actually rather touched.” Takizawa Sei laughed softly a few times. “You looked absolutely furious just now, all because of me.”

The wound was treated quickly. Takizawa Sei patted the creased, disheveled clothing rumpled during their scuffle. “All right. I should go back for a while.”

He needed to report to the children at the orphanage.

“I’ll take you.”

Mm.

Takizawa Sei thought of Mori, who was also dead.

At least Mori’s death had genuinely been a fake one. Dazai Osamu should have arranged a new identity for him.

Chuuya could know that Mori was alive, but his subordinates could not.

…Wait. Could Chuuya know?

Takizawa Sei thought again of Dazai Osamu, sitting alone atop a distant high-rise.

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