Dazai caught the newspaper before the wind could take it. He folded it once, then dropped it into the metal trash can beside the bench.
Information acquired. Paper discarded.
The mother and daughter he had noticed earlier crossed the far side of the park. The girl was telling a story with both hands, and her mother kept smiling even though she was plainly trying to hurry. Dazai watched them until they disappeared through the gate.
He could pretend to be a mutant. If anyone saw No Longer Human at work, the explanation would probably satisfy them. In the articles he'd read, mutants were people whose powers came from their biology. His own ability had nothing to do with his DNA. If someone's gift—or a spell—met his skin, it stopped. No Longer Human had always been that simple, and that difficult to explain.
He flexed his bandaged fingers.
The X-Men, according to the paper, had helped save New York. They argued for a future in which people could live beside those who feared them. Dazai could appreciate the effort without volunteering to join it.
Odasaku had once told him to stand on the side that saved people. Dazai had tried, in the only way he'd believed would work. From the head of the Port Mafia, he had committed crimes that would have made this city's papers for months. In return, Atsushi and Akutagawa had been given a chance to protect their world. Odasaku had been given a life in which he could write.
Dazai didn't regret making that bargain. He also had no intention of calling himself a hero because of it.
He considered building something familiar here. An organization, perhaps. He knew how to find people who needed money, how to turn secrets into leverage, how to make an entire city move without seeing the hand that pushed it.
Then he remembered the meetings.
"No," he said aloud. "Too much paperwork."
He leaned back and closed his eye. When he opened it again, a blue rectangle hovered in front of him.
Dazai held still.
The rectangle remained in the same place when he turned his head. It was transparent enough that he could see a tree through it. No one walking past the bench appeared to notice.
[ SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE ]
[ WELCOME, HOST: OSAMU DAZAI ]
[ REINCARNATION PROTOCOL ACTIVE ]
"Host," Dazai repeated. "We've hardly met."
He reached toward the screen with his bandaged hand. His fingers passed through it. He pulled the bandage loose at his wrist and tried again, exposing the skin beneath.
Nothing changed.
No Longer Human had no hold on the blue display. Dazai could not tell whether it existed outside him at all.
"A hallucination would be less troublesome," he said.
He thought of the light novels he'd found during long nights at Port Mafia headquarters. Their heroes had died, woken in strange places, and received convenient instructions from floating screens.
"Stats?"
The rectangle widened.
[ HOST PARAMETERS ]
Name: Osamu Dazai
Title: Former Executive / Former Boss of the Port Mafia
Level: 1
[ BASE STATS ]
Strength: 8
Agility: 14
Stamina: 10
Intelligence: 99
Mana: 0 (Incompatible)
[ ACTIVE / PASSIVE SKILLS ]
No Longer Human (Unique Ability): Nullification of supernatural, magical, and cosmic effects upon direct physical contact with the host.
Master Strategist (Passive — Max): Predictive analysis and tactical planning.
Underworld Mastery (Passive): Stealth, lockpicking, pickpocketing, interrogation, and marksmanship.
[ SYSTEM FUNCTIONS ]
Inventory: Empty
Shop: Locked — Currency: System Points
Quests: 1 Pending
Dazai read the description of his ability twice. He distrusted the word cosmic. A claim that broad was either useful information or a splendid way to get killed testing it.
"Why ninety-nine?" he asked. "Are you afraid to flatter me?"
The screen offered no answer.
He asked it to show him what the numbers meant. A second panel appeared.
[ STAT BENCHMARKS ]
Average adult human: 10 in physical attributes
Peak human condition: 20–30
Superhuman baseline: 35+
Mutants / Inhumans: 50–500+
Magic users: 100–1,000
Godly avatars: 10,000–100,000
Celestials: 1 million–100 million
Cosmic entities: Unbounded
Conceptual entities: Unbounded
The figures told him less than the system seemed to think. He had met people who could bring down buildings and people who could persuade someone else to do it for them. They did not belong on the same scale.
A note appeared beneath the list.
[ Mana cannot be increased through ordinary attribute allocation. Specialized items and soul-attributes may bypass this restriction after the Shop is unlocked. ]
Dazai let out a soft breath. "You're planning my purchases already."
He selected Quests. Three tabs opened: Main, Daily, and Personality. The first promised tasks tied to major people and events. The last claimed to respond to his habits and desires.
"Stay out of my head," Dazai told it.
The Daily tab blinked.
[ DAILY QUEST: MORNING ROUTINE ]
Complete 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10 km run within 24 hours.
Reward: 2 Attribute Points, 100 System Points, Shop Unlock Progress 1/3.
Penalty for failure: Four-hour survival scenario in the Manhattan sewers.
Dazai stared.
Of all the things an unknown power might have wanted from him, it had chosen exercise.
"Ten kilometers?"
The screen did not revise its demands.
"The sewers sound unpleasant," Dazai said. "I assume you know that."
A passerby glanced over. Dazai smiled at him pleasantly until he walked faster.
The light was fading. He had no money beyond the change from the newspaper, nowhere to sleep, and twenty-four hours before the screen could send him somewhere he had no wish to visit. He could ignore it. He could also find out whether it was telling the truth.
That thought held his interest for almost a minute.
Then he stood, removed his coat, and laid it across the bench. He kept it in sight as he began to run.
By the third lap around the park, he was regretting the decision. His shirt stuck to his back. His shoes were wrong for running, his breathing had turned rough, and every time he passed the bench, his coat looked more inviting.
"You could have asked me to steal something," he told the screen between breaths. "I'd have respected that."
A small counter marked his distance. It kept climbing, indifferent to his opinion. By the time it reached ten kilometers, the park lamps were on and Dazai had stopped composing insults for the system. He wanted water. More than that, he wanted to lie down.
He knelt on the grass to begin the push-ups.
The screen accepted each repetition only when he did it properly. Dazai discovered this on the twelfth, when he lowered himself halfway and the counter stayed at eleven.
"Petty," he whispered.
No one answered. He did the rep again.
He finished the push-ups with shaking arms, the sit-ups with a sore back, and the squats by holding his coat for balance. On the hundredth squat, a clear chime sounded beside his ear.
[ DAILY QUEST COMPLETED ]
[ REWARDS: 2 ATTRIBUTE POINTS, 100 SYSTEM POINTS ]
[ SHOP UNLOCK PROGRESS: 1/3 ]
Dazai sank onto the bench. For several minutes, he did nothing but breathe. The blue screen waited.
When he could focus on it, he assigned both points to Stamina.
[ STAMINA: 10 → 12 ]
Warmth spread through his legs. The ache eased—not entirely, but enough that he noticed its absence. Dazai stood, tested his weight on one foot, then the other.
"So that part's real."
He would have to treat the rest as real until he had reason not to.
A man passing the park gate muttered "mutant" under his breath. Dazai heard the word clearly. He put his coat back on and headed into Hell's Kitchen.
He had no wish to spend his first night here beneath a tree. An hour later, after two crowded sidewalks and a few carefully chosen collisions, he had enough cash for a room. He avoided anyone who looked hungry or frightened. Men coming out of a private card game proved less difficult to rob, and one barely noticed the loss.
The Royal Inn had five floors, a flickering sign, and a clerk whose television held more of his attention than his guests. Dazai paid cash for a week under a false name. The clerk handed him a key without asking about the bandages.
His room had peeling wallpaper and a window overlooking another alley. The bed creaked when Dazai sat on it. He placed the key and the remaining money on the bedside table, then lay down without removing his coat.
He had meant to be dead.
Instead, he had a week in a cheap motel, sore legs, and a blue screen waiting somewhere behind his eye. Across the city were people who could fly, read minds, command storms, or survive almost anything. He knew their names from a newspaper and little else.
Dazai raised a hand toward the ceiling. In his own world, he had left Atsushi and Akutagawa with the truth about the Book. He had left them to face whatever came after him. He could do nothing for them from this room; he didn't even know whether a way back existed.
"Odasaku," he said quietly, "I didn't expect another chance."
He let his hand fall.
The ceiling fan clicked once with each turn. Dazai counted the clicks until he lost track, and at last, still wearing his black coat, he slept.
End of Chapter 2.