Soukoku One-Shots

Death & Destruction Pt. 4

Alternate Universe

"Oi, Shirase! Look!"

Silver hair caught the bright sunlight as Shirase turned around, and Chuuya proudly held out a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables.

"The first batch is finally ready!"

Chuuya had spent all season planting the garden—collecting the seeds, preparing the earth, watering them properly, and making sure nothing died come spring. The rest of the Sheep helped, of course, but it was Chuuya who made it all happen. He had every right to be proud of the accomplishment.

Shirase's eyes widened as he took in the overflowing basket and jetted toward Chuuya, mouth practically watering. "It worked? You did it?"

"Pretty cool, huh? It should last us the whole summer!"

Shirase grinned a wide, toothy grin and ruffled Chuuya's hair, taking the basket as he made his way toward where the rest of the Sheep were huddled patiently by the nearest house. "You're the best Chuuya, y'know?"

Chuuya laughed that off, following him toward the group as pride swelled in his chest. They gorged themselves on his hard work that day—Chuuya got one sickly-looking carrot out of it, but he didn't mind. The Sheep were happy, and his rumbling stomach didn't matter.

As it turned out, the garden didn't last them the whole summer, because what use was charred fruit to the dead?

Chuuya awoke in a crater. His skin was smeared with dirt and ash, and as he looked around, there were no bustling streets or shouting street vendors. There were pieces of what may have been homes, but they were blackened and crumbled.

As Chuuya rose to his feet, he barely paid attention to the liveliness in his step, or the way his bones felt less frail, or the healthy glow—a literal healthy glow—to his skin. All he could see were the skeletons.

Some were small, sprawled out at the edge of the crater. Some were larger, similar to Chuuya's size, and some were indistinguishable thanks to their crushed or missing parts.

But there were two, the ones closest to where Chuuya had woken up, who he gravitated toward with dazed, stumbling steps. One's skull was bashed in, but there was a strand or two of pink hair strewn about her. Her bony fingers were clasped around the other skeleton's, which had remnants of gray fabric scattered around his ribcage.

Chuuya collapsed onto his new, baby-soft knees, hasty tears rolling down his cheeks, and screamed.

The memory flashed through Chuuya's head as he stood face-to-face with N. The crook of his nose reminded Chuuya of the way Yuan's arm had been bent the wrong way. His curved smile reminded Chuuya of the fabric that had clung to Shirase's bones, mocking him with his own heart.

He was drowning. Lost amidst the sea of those memories, of the guilt and the shame and the regret that came with them, of the pain as he was reminded again and again that godhood is loss.

"Chuuya, please."

That voice alone had snapped Chuuya from his thoughts, had pulled him from the sea with cool, kind hands.

Chuuya had spent the rest of that time trying to forget.

He tried to forget as he stormed to his room—his room, which was terribly easy to say—and grabbed his coat, his hat. He tried to forget as he stepped into Kouyou and Yosano's home, quiet and quaint, and talked for hours in the afternoon sun. He tried to forget as he and Dazai walked all over the rolling hills, stepping between wildflowers and large stones.