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The memory is no different than the sea. You never immerse yourself when it’s restless.
~~~
The visions of endless black waters invade Dazai’s mind. Shimmers of red ripple on the surface. It slashes against his skull, the sound echoing. The waves crash beneath his closed eyelids. Only those experienced in these narrow waters can tread in them.
Memory detectives.
Detectives who Investigate through invading the memories of their suspects.
It takes a mental toll to see how exactly someone was stabbed, or peeled inside out. To see the exact details and process of how someone was tortured to death. It is not for the faint of heart. He almost felt sorry for Atsushi, a fellow detective.
Him and his Memory Agency were recently invited to Yokohama for a rather fabulous and famous festival there. Invites were few and far between. For organizations, there were four that were invited. The Memory Agency, the Guild, the Decay of Angels, and… the Hunting Dogs. However… The hunting dogs did not show up.. And in their place arrived the Port Mafia Executive Chuuya Nakahara.
His main suspect for the disappearance of the hunting dogs.
Now he’ll be truthful. His gaze has lingered on Chuuya for quite a while and tonight, he will engage in their first arrangement.
He opened his eyes and willed the waves to still in his mind.
Warm light invaded his vision. Lanterns and chandeliers were illuminated around tile and glass stained windows. The ceiling was tall and wide. Guests mingle and dawdle with tall glasses of champagne. The ladies giggle and laugh with tight revealing dresses and the men are dressed in suits. Dazai himself is dressed in a suit, and although it’s not his old traditional black, it is a nice deep navy blue.
While his eyes scour the ballroom, his sight lands on a figure sitting at a table alone, drink in hand. Chuuya Nakahara is just as petite as he remembers. A port mafia executive huh?
His heels click on the floor as he strides over to the redhead, who is enjoying a particularly large glass of wine.
The glow of lights shine on Chuuya’s inferno hair, creating a halo of light. Almost like a sunset.
Dazai reaches the table, Chuuya looks up, and Dazai is met with the most vibrant blue he has ever seen. It only adds to the Intrigue.
Dazai smirks, “Waiting for someone?”
An expression of suspicion crosses the redhead's face but the slight shake of his head is telling.
Dazais hand falls open with an invitation. “Then…” He bends forward slightly. “How about a dance?”
A moment of silence passes with their eyes locked before a well loved gloved hand meets his own.
An orchestra starts playing in the background.
~~~
A violin plays in the background of an empty ballroom. It seems the guests have made room in the center of the dome. The crowd has parted and it’s only Dazai and Chuuya now.
Their feet glide across the floor, clicking as they move. Only their hands touch.
Dazai watches Chuuya intensely, searching hungry for anything to devour in those deep blue orbs.
“I’ve been watching you for some time, I’m quite glad no one has stolen you away yet.”
Chuuyas' brow raises in good humor, “Stolen me away?”
Dazai moves closer, spinning Chuuya, and their heels click and tangle in this dance.
Chuuya’s heels skit to a halt while Dazai takes his hand walking around the enticing man. Their fingers disconnect for a brief moment. Dazais circles around Chuuya like a vulture, pressing his chest against Chuuyas firm back.
The music sways, the violins loud and powerful.
“You have after all such a wonderful deep red suit,“ His fingers run up Chuuya’s arm, and grip onto his shoulders. He leans down and whispers over the others shoulder. “A Port Mafia Executive, as mysterious as the rumors suggest.”
The violins swell and-
Chuuya’s head turns sharply in his direction, but Dazai leads this dramatic dance, twisting until they’re face to face again. Eyes locked. Their heels click on the tile floor.
-Stop.
The orchestra continues.
Chest to chest, the whole ballroom is theirs and theirs alone. No one has the will to intrude. The light shines on them.
“You’re a blend of nobility and reticence” Dazai speaks softly.
They glide back and forth, their hands on the others shoulders. Dazai leads Chuuya through, watching with careful eyes. The redhead's pretty mouth has yet to return the conversation other than once. But no matter, words are meaningless from him in this investigation.
They spin. “The port mafia are the hunters in this game you see,” His hand is on Chuuyas waist, the shorter ones back to his own chest. Dazai’s hand pulls Chuuya’s face to him, reconnecting their eyes. “But you see an Executive is not the only one who hunts.”
Chuuya’s eyes harden yet they continue their tango. The music continues and pauses as Chuuya is dipped, face still not quite as expressive as Dazai wishes.
At this distance…You are far more enchanting than you seem.
Their heels click and their knees bend for each beat of the music. They circle and circle each other, trying to understand the other's language through dance. Dazai will never stop watching this bright blaze, for he is far too interesting to let go.
Without a doubt, he seeks something in this city.
Everyone lies.
(They spin again, Chuuya’s hair flying through his movements. They strut, hand on each others waists-)
But memories do not.
(-Chuuya flicks his head, they spin, disconnect, and entangle their legs. Reconnect and watch those eyes. They’re feet dance, gliding with the symphony of instruments. Repeat and do it over again. Dazai brings Chuuya close, foreheads touching.)
“This just keeps getting better doesn’t it?”
(They move onto a box step, the world forgotten around them)
Everyone has history, and history is what shapes the present. Some people hold onto their memories while others are haunted by them, unable to escape.
This is why Dazai was the one to come here. To find Chuuya.
(The music slows down, they dance around each other. Dazai smiles as he dips Chuuya. This time to the floor.)
I want to know all of what he is.
(They spin and spin and spin)
“The festival is a feast and many are hungry. The Guild, The Memory Agency, Decay of Angels, and…The Hunting Dogs. They should have been here but…” Dazai’s small grin turns into a smirk, “Fukushima Ouchi is dead. He and his dogs won’t be coming.”
Dazai reaches into Chuuya’s eyes-
“What have you done…beautiful “Executive?”
(The music swells and reaches its peak.)
-and finds an ocean of black and white and red. Swimming with corpses.
Chuuya’s memory says, “Excuse me?” With a much too wide grin and red marks all along his body. “Are you asking me?”
Dazais assaulted with CRIMSON.
His mind is whipped along, being smashed through, red eyes watching him-
He’s being watched-
hELp, HELP-
He’s being tossed back and forth, like a predator with prey and all Dazai can see is red.
Are they still dancing? His mind is being torn apart, gravity is crushing him. He wants to fly away but something (IT'S COMING) slithers and contracts his wings. Any time he tries to escape from this dance, his wings are slashed.
What..what memory is this?!
He’s being crushed, cruSHED, CRUSHED, and TORN. His mind will be dead in no time. All he can do is witness his future, the skeleton of a bird. Unable to fly away.
It's much like how a cheetah chases after an elk.
Or a bear and a rabbit.
He’s a swarm of fish being devoured by a shark,
A spider-
A tiny insect trapped.
A black hole.
He can’t reach out, he’s being unraveled and he’s falling and he’s-
The lights of the ballroom shine in his eyes as he’s dipped by Chuuya. The music of the violin has returned. Panting and barely being able to hear anything other than his own heartbeat.… Dazai looks up into blue eyes. Not…they're not red. Huh? What?
Chuuya’s confused expression greets him like an old friend.
“Who are… The Hunting Dogs?” Chuuya asks.