Soukoku Oneshots

Photograph

"Your father?"

"Yes, who was he?" Asked a boy who looked no older than twelve, his eyes a mirroring a similar color to the gingers before him, but his hair belonging to someone from a distant past.

"Well, he had dark curls, and-"

"That's not what I meant Dad, and you know it. I'm old enough now to know the truth, fully."

Chucking, Chuuya couldn't help but wonder if the boy got his smart mouth from him, or his other father.

"Calm down, I'm just teasing Shuji, so you want to know more about your Father?"

"Yes, I do."

Old French melodies playing in that background, blocking out the silence that surrounded the two.

"Mhm, I guess it was only a matter of time till you started asking, alright I'll tell you."

Walking away, the ginger beckoned the little brunette to follow him. Making their way down the hard wooden floors of the dim apartment, stopping when they reached the doorframe of Chuuya's room.

"Are you sure you want to know now, Shuji? We can always talk about it when you're older."

"Positive," replied the brunette promptly as the words left the ginger's mouth.

"Always so determined, alright come on."

Opening the bedroom door, the floors creaked as Chuuya walked over to his bed only to reach down and pull out a brown worn-down box.

Sitting on his bed, Chuuya called over Shuji to join him.

"Ugh, it smells old."

"How can something smell old," chuckled the ginger. Hands coming up to ruffle the brunette's hair.

"Just does," spat Shuji matter of factly, holding his nose to emphasize his point

"Alright, if you say so," Chuuya chimed while opening the box and pulling out a torn photo.

"Is that him," Shuji questioned, grabbing the photo to examine the picture of a man covered head to toe in bandages and gauzes. A black coat hanging from his shoulders.

"Yep, that's him, in all his mackerel glory."

"Mackerel?"

"It was my nickname for him, fits right?"

"Yeah, it does." Replied Shuji offhandedly, his mind occupied with other thoughts.

"What's the matter," Chuuya questioned gaze fixated on Shuji. "Do you have a question about him?"

"Is he dead?"

"What, no he's not." Chuuya smiled, it was sympathetic, but a smile nonetheless.

"Do you wish he was dead then?"

"Me? Well no, anymore at least. And neither should you," Chuuya laughed, flicking the brunette's forehead.

"Ow, dad that hurt!"

"You were overthinking again," sighed Chuuya, reclining on the bed.

"Y'know remind me a lot of him Shuji,"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah, it's a great thing,"

"So what happened between you two then?"

"You're done with the photos already?"

"I said I wanted to know who he was, not what he looked like Dad," insisted Shuji, placing the photo back into the box.

Shuji's statement was met with a soft exhale as Chuuya settled back on the bed, the room was adorned with a gentle ambience, the muted light casting a calming glow across the space.

"Ok, well, your father and I... we had a complicated relationship, to say the least," taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Chuuya's gaze fixated on a distant memory.

"We were partners in every sense, I loved him, he loved me, we were a force to be reckoned with, though I did most of the work just saying."

Shuji listened intently, his eyes locked on his father's face, waiting for the story to unfold.

"But, fate has a funny way of messing with you.

Chuuya's voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and pain, his eyes lost in the depths of the past.

"Your father, he met someone, a friend of his, you could say.

Shuji's brows furrowed as he processed his father's words. "A friend? So this friend of his was special to him?

"Very special,Shuji. They shared a bond that went beyond mere friendship, hell it probably went beyond what me and your father had. They understood each other on a level that was hard to put into words."

"Did he... fall in love with this friend?"

"You could say that. And in the end, he made a choice. A choice that meant leaving me behind."

As Shuji spoke , his voice was filled with a mixture of sympathy and confusion. "But... didn't you love each other?"

Chuuya's gaze met Shuji's, "love isn't a simple equation. It's messy and complicated. Love is not always exclusive or limited. Sometimes, the heart has the capacity to love more than one person deeply. Your father loved me, and he loved this other person as well."

Chuuya's gaze softened, reaching out to take Shuji's hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"And, sometimes, there are circumstances, choices, and obligations that pull people apart. And as much as it hurts, we have to learn to accept and respect those choices."

Silence settled between them, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The old French melodies continued to play softly, casting a melancholic ambiance in the room.

"Did he regret it? Leaving you behind?" Shuji's voice barely a whisper as he looked down at his Dad.

"I think he did, at least for a while. But regret doesn't change the choices we make. Your father found happiness, and so did I, even without him."

Chuuya's fingers absentmindedly traced the palm of Shuji's hand as he continued

"Your father was a remarkable person, a genius some say. He had an unwavering loyalty to those he cared about. He was a protector, just like you."

Chuuya sighed, a small smile spreading across his face. "Any questions, comments?"

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No, but if I found out, would you want to meet him?" Chuuya's smile faded a little, sitting up to face his son.

Yet the only response he got was a shoulder shrug, and a small smile.

"I don't want to meet the man who made you sad."

"You shouldn't let my past relationship with your father define yours with him, Shuji."

He reached out, placing a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, Chuuya continued, his voice tender.

"If you ever change your mind, tell me. If you ever want to meet him, I'll do my best to find him."

"Can I ask one last question, Dad?"

"Of course, anything."

"What...what was his name?"

"Dazai, Osamu Dazai."

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Thanks for reading.