LOVING MACHINE ‣ d. osamu

O6.

   THE QUIET SATURDAY WAS just as she had decided. [name] was settled at bar lupin, mindlessly playing with the cold sphere of ice. she had ordered what her brother always did when they were younger and toyed around a little at bars—not that they ever drank irresponsibly, however. the scotch on the rocks was a distant memory for her soul.

   as it was her first time with alcohol, she drank slowly and a little cautiously, even, so as to not get intoxicated. the drink was a little nostalgic, and she soon found herself with a single tear rolling down her cheek. following that, she pounded her fist against the counter angrily despite showing emotion in public. luckily, the bar was empty. everyone else that went drinking was at more sparse and popular bars. the barman, a nice old man, was wiping a glass and setting it away for storage. this place was gorgeous—a perfect place to lose your mind.

   while she was drinking, she felt an empty shadow next to her, reminiscent of what remained in oda sakunosuke. without her brother alongside her, she was strangely lonely.

   she never got lonely—not usually. being alone was alright for her. [name] liked privacy. privacy was the embodiment of protection. whenever she went out to a bar, though, it was always with company, whether it was her brother or that one time with chuuya.

   the girl hadn't heard about the sheep from anywhere, however. it was as if...

as if they'd disbanded a while back.

   something was wrong. usually, the sheep would be on the cover of the newspaper, flashing delinquent smiles or smug looks, with their revenge successful. she flipped through the rest of the paper. there was not even a sliver of presence about the teenage organization.

   did something happen to them? she thought cautiously. the old anxiety that had taken a while to wash away was returning, like grease on a pedal, except that it wasn't functional or useful whatsoever. suddenly, the atmosphere had gone cold.

   earlier that day, she had caught a flash of a black fedora and a streak of ginger hair poking out of it. there was a possibility that it was chuuya. but that was fancy clothing, the sheep couldn't afford that. chuuya could have been forced to join the port mafia. after all, when i first met him, he was making a deal with the boss about something—'arahabaki,' he called it.

arahabaki is the god of calamity.

   she had eavesdropped on that day and heard that chuuya wanted to find it, or investigate it. arahabaki had once been sealed away by the government, before one day, the seal was broken and a giant explosion was created, forming suribachi city. it made her shudder to think about suribachi city now. there were rumors about it being a black beast with fur, a tail, and eyes like fire and black smoke. could arahabaki be the kitsune, taking on an almost human form?

   a prickle of fear ran down the back of her neck, making her hair fly a little. that kitsune was something else, i'm sure. there's no way chuuya would try to look for something like... something like that.

right?

   feeling the sudden urge to break down and cry, she played around with her mind, trying to figure out what happened to chuuya. he couldn't have died, could he? arahabaki couldn't have killed him. no, something was wrong.

chuuya always had a deep crimson aura whenever he activated his ability.

she froze, piecing the puzzle together.

   'eyes all like fire and smoke,' people had described it. rimbaud had said that the destruction was made in a burst of a deep crimson aura or so.

"my life only really started eight years ago. before that, it was just darkness," the ginger had told her when they were fifteen.

   the destruction that formed suribachi city was around eight years ago, now being nine. chuuya is arahabaki, she thought with fear. there's no doubt about it. i—... really can't bring myself to face him now.

   the ice sphere in her drink had been reduced to a semi-version. taking another few sips of her scotch on the rocks, she set it down on the counter with another aggressive thud. the barman, looking unfazed, must have been used to this behavior. he must have delt with many drunkard before her. however, she wasn't drunk. [name] wasn't drunk at all—she was afraid. afraid of anxiety, afraid of fear, afraid of abandonment, afraid of interaction, afraid of trauma itself, afraid of glass, afraid of many other things that drove her mad.

   they'd ought to put me in a mental asylum by now, she thought, referring to her parents. her frustration was taking over. nothing made sense. why can't she just go back, when she didn't have to worry about getting her head shot up and annihilated when she could go to school and talk to her old friends happily before they got massacred by dazai and his squad of gunrunners?

   dazai osamu. a young brunette with empty eyes, a walking bandage machine, and a childhood 'friend,' who considered her as an enemy. he was a monster beyond understanding, who did things because he simply wanted to, who didn't believe in anything. not good or evil, not apart of law or order, dazai was just morally gray, without the moral part. what morals? trying to find a reason to live? while he was constantly seeking death, selling his soul for it?

"i hate him," she whispered. "i hate that man!"

   the bartender had retreated to the bathroom, letting her vent her feelings in the empty bar. there was no such thing as comfort in this bar. it only brought her more grief and reworked the stubborn wires in her brain. at least this way, nobody could make fun of her as a being.

"i hate him!" her voice slowly succumbed to loud, sorrowful screams.

   she nearly shattered the glass in her hand, a drop of the alcohol spilling out and onto a gash that had formed on her finger. the stinging feeling made her feel a slight bit better, a reminder that she hadn't fully transformed into a monster of herself, that she was still considered a human being. tears rolled down angrily across her face before they started to dry slowly.

   snapping out of her thoughts, she tried her best to finish the rest of her drink as calmly as possible. her face was coated with dried tear streaks, [eye color] eyes slightly puffy. a sudden ring was heard thrice, signaling that three people had just entered the bar. trying to hide her face and fear that she would be judged, she realized that to no avail it would help.

slowly facing the people who walked in, she blanched in horror.

  one of them she didn't know, but one of the guys that arrived had ginger hair and dark brown eyes.

and the last one had curly brunette hair and empty, brown eyes.

[name] sakunosuke suppressed a scream.

   because she realized that the ginger man was her brother, and the brunette boy was her worst fear contorted to human form.

the stench of death was in the air.

   and they had recognized her too. oda sakunosuke turned pale, while dazai's eyes widened.