Drowning in the swamp of memories

Abyss

The darkness was suffocating, an endless black void where even shadows seemed to dissolve. I shivered in the cold, my breath visible in the frosty air. In the distance, two figures appeared, faintly illuminated. The taller one had silky, medium-length black hair that framed a pale, almost ghostly face. He wore something resembling a doctor's coat, giving him an unsettlingly clinical appearance. Beside him stood another man, aged but not weak, his hair a blend of white and gray. He wore an old kimono that seemed to blur into the darkness, and both men looked like they belonged to another world, another time.

Suddenly, a door creaked open behind them, and they turned to leave. Panic gripped me, a surge of desperation I didn't fully understand. "Wait! Don't leave me!" I screamed, but my voice faded into the void, unheard. I tried to run after them, but I was chained down. My wrists burned as I struggled, pale blue lines crawling up my skin, glowing like cracks across porcelain. I looked down to see my hair, once long, now chopped short. "What... is this a dream?" I whispered, feeling more trapped by the second.

As I wrestled with the chains, water began to rise from the floor, cold as ice, creeping up my legs until it closed around my chest and then over my head, submerging me. The weight of it crushed my lungs, and all I could hear was a whisper repeating, "They gave up on you... just like you gave up on yourself." Fyodor's voice. That was exactly what he had told Gran-Gran during the battle.

Below me, another figure began to emerge-a girl, drowning even deeper. Her white hair floated around her like a halo, and her eyes were crystal blue, the same shade as mine. No... a younger Gran-Gran. The two of us sank together, pulled into the depths. The water thickened, darkening to a crimson red, like blood. It swirled around me, and I felt it pressing in, robbing me of breath, as though something in the water itself wanted to choke the life out of me. My lungs burned, each attempt at breathing harder than the last, until the world went black.

I woke up gasping on Dazai's couch, tangled in a blanket, my body sprawled awkwardly as if I'd just crawled out of some hellish nightmare. Blinking, I tried to focus. A blurry figure leaned over me. "Kai... is that... you?" I muttered, the name slipping out before I could stop it.

A familiar, irritating chuckle filled the room. "Mizuki-san, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid you're still stuck with me." Dazai's voice snapped me fully awake, and I found myself scowling at him as he handed me a glass of water. "Saw you thrashing around when I came back this morning. Rough night?"

It had only been a dream, but it had felt so real. I gripped the glass tighter, trying to shake the images from my head. My teeth clenched as I looked away, anger bubbling inside me. Why on earth had I thought of Kai? That coward had left me to rot and never answered a single call. Meanwhile, Dazai threw a bag at me with a smirk, "Your stuff from your apartment."

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks," I muttered, giving him a 'gentle' smack to the face as a thank you. Typical me.

In the bathroom, I finally let my guard down, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my gloved hands trembling. I slapped myself lightly. "Wake up, Hako. Just a dream." My fingers brushed over the gloves, a dull leather that was supposed to hold my ability back, to keep the power in check. But even as I looked at them, I could swear I saw flecks of blood staining them, a reminder of the nightmare.

The two men... who were they?

I shook my head, clearing the thought, and changed into black baggy jeans, a blue top, and boots, pulling my hair up. I attempted a smile, but as soon as I caught sight of my crystal blue eyes, my stomach turned. Those eyes... they never felt like mine, like they belonged to some other life, like I'd committed some crime I couldn't remember.

Steeling myself, I returned to the living room. Dazai sat on the couch, reading a book about suicide, of course. He looked up, flashing that annoying smile that never reached his eyes, a twisted mask like something out of a bad joke. His grin felt like a challenge.

"Enjoying yourself, Dazai?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Oh, immensely, Mizuki-san." He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "Nice to see you so... lively."

"Better than seeing you fake-smiling all day, Joker," I shot back, feeling a bit of my usual fire returning.

He smirked. "Oh, I'm far too charming to be Joker. Besides, a fake smile is my signature look. Yours... well, it just doesn't suit you."

I rolled my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's simple. You're better off with your arrogant smirk." His tone was casual, but I felt the sting of the insult, mixed with a strange hint of encouragement.

I scoffed, shoving him slightly. "Careful, Dazai. I might knock you down a few pegs."

"Ah, but then who would be around to discuss the finer details of suicide with you?" he replied smoothly, barely flinching.

"Oh, I've got suggestions. Ever try shark-wrestling? Bet you'd love the thrill," I shot back, grinning. "Good cardio too, you might even stay in shape for once."

"Ah, so thoughtful. You always know how to make a friend feel welcome," he replied with a mock bow.

Finally, we stepped out into the city, Yokohama's skyline stretching out beneath a gray, cloud-laden sky. The streets were crowded, people moving with a purpose I couldn't fathom. The air was cool, with a faint breeze that stirred my hair. Dazai glanced at me, his expression shifting.

"Your smile..." he said, almost under his breath, "it's too fake. You look better with the real one."

I stopped, taken aback. "Are you seriously giving me a pep talk right now?"

"Just an observation." He shrugged, that smile of his still in place.

"Oh, you know what? That's it." I knocked him to the ground with one swift motion, watching as he lay there, laughing like I'd just made his day. My fake smile faded, replaced by a smirk.

"Dazai, if you're so eager to die, there's a bridge not far from here. I'll even cheer you on."

"Why, Mizuki-san, that's the nicest offer anyone's made me all day," he replied, still lying on the pavement, looking up at the sky as if considering it.

Finally, we reached the agency. The sky was dull, the clouds casting a somber light over the building. A strange thought gnawed at me: If I had Gran-Gran's Red Lotus ability, did that nightmare mean something? Was it a memory?

"Gran-Gran..." I muttered under my breath. She was still a mystery, even in death.