Dazai and Chuuya 12

Goblin-Shirase loves to get under the Spider's skin. During battle, he laughs maniacally, darts around Chuuya on his glider, and showers him with taunts. While Spider-Chuya always tries not to hurt anyone, Shirase fights to the death. He uses his glider's blades to cut Chuuya's webbing mid-air, sending him hurtling from heights. He considers himself the "king of the streets." He robs banks and warehouses, blows up police stations, and tries to dominate the city's street crime scene. With his uncanny powers of observation, Shirase notices Chuuya hovering over the quiet and aloof Dazai at school. For Goblin, Dazai becomes the perfect target.

He wears a modified army flak jacket and shields, which he spray-painted himself dirty green and purple. Instead of a rubber mask, he wears a terrifying high-tech visor with a fanged grin that completely obscures his face and distorts his voice into a metallic, insane laugh. He wields a heavy, angular metal jet-powered board with folding blades on the sides. Shirase controls it using magnetic mounts on his boots. The roar of his glider in the Yokohama night sky terrifies the residential areas. He also wields homemade ball grenades. They are filled not only with explosives but also with a corrosive green gas that temporarily blinds Chuuya and blocks his spider-sense.

In everyday life, Shirase always lived in Chuuya's shadow. Chuuya, though he hid his spider powers, always seemed stronger, bolder, and more flamboyant. Shirase desperately envied his authority among the neighborhood's teenagers. Trying to become stronger, Shirase injected himself with an untested military stimulant. He gained superhuman strength and speed, but the drug frying his nervous system. He developed severe paranoia and schizophrenia. A second voice began to resonate in his head—a cruel, poisonous Goblin, urging him to destroy the city. Shirase worked as a small-time courier and as a thief in the warehouses of a large military-industrial corporation. There, he stumbled upon a secret laboratory and stole an experimental military glider exoskeleton and a batch of combat-grade toxins.

Chuuya, capable of stopping cars with his bare hands, becomes incredibly cautious around Dazai. If he needs to carry him over an obstacle or hold him by the shoulder, he calculates his force down to the milligram. His touches become soft, almost weightless, so as not to hurt the fragile boy. When Dazai quietly and distantly says that Spider shouldn't waste his time on him, Chuuya literally chokes with tenderness and pain behind his mask. He never gets angry at Dazai for his coldness. Chuuya believes that this world has simply hurt Osamu too much, and now Spider's duty is to prove to him that he is safe. To prevent Dazai from guessing his true feelings, Chuuya turns on all his teenage sarcasm. He can land on the bridge railing where Dazai sadly looks out over the water, dangle his legs, and say something silly to make Osamu smile. Chuuya notices that his patrols "accidentally" always pass by the library, Dazai's house, or those quiet alleys where Osamu likes to wander. Chuuya's spider-sense is highly sensitive to Dazai: if Dazai simply stumbles on level ground due to absentmindedness, Chuuya's head starts ringing a kilometer away, forcing him to rush to his aid. Most importantly, when Chuuya is near Dazai (sitting with him on the roof or holding his hand), his perpetually buzzing, tense spider-sense completely subsides. Next to this quiet man, Chuuya feels absolutely safe and at peace for the first time all day. More than anything, Spider-Chuuya treasures the moments when Dazai allows him to simply be near him. If Dazai sits on the library windowsill or a bench, lost in his melancholy thoughts, Chuuya can hang motionless for hours, upside down, from a web, or sit on the ledge opposite. He doesn't impose himself. He's content simply to see that this quiet, detached boy in bandages is breathing, alive, and under his reliable spider-like protection.

Dazai doesn't discuss Spider-Man with his classmates, doesn't seek him out, and doesn't blog. If the class gets heated about Spider-Man's nocturnal exploits, Dazai simply buries his head in his book or puts on his headphones, completely ignoring the others' excitement. For Dazai, his rescue from the car isn't a "miracle," but simply a strange, chaotic event that disrupted his usual solitude. He's grateful, but his gratitude is quiet, heavy, and introverted. Dazai vividly remembers Spider-Man's heavy breathing in that alley and how his hands trembled. Osamu understands that his own inattention led to the hero risking his life. He feels uneasy at the thought of someone wasting their energy protecting someone as "useless" and quiet as he is. Dazai is terrified of becoming a burden to someone. Because of this, he began walking the streets even more quietly, choosing the most secluded routes under the eaves of buildings—as if trying to prove to Spider (and himself) that he is now safe and doesn't need to be watched. When Dazai sits on the windowsill in the school library during the rain, he sometimes freezes, gazing at the distant rooftops. If a red-and-blue silhouette flashes past at that moment, Dazai doesn't wave or smile. He simply follows it with a long, thoughtful, infinitely sad gaze of his brown eyes, lightly touching the glass with his fingers. For him, Spider is like a beautiful, distant bird that he would never dare touch. Dazai sees Spider as the absolute opposite of himself. Spider is strong, passionate, alive, vibrant, ready to fight the whole world. Dazai himself feels like a faded, gray shadow. Osamu believes that his aloofness and perpetual sadness can "extinguish" this pure heroic fire, so he deliberately keeps his distance.

In class, Dazai always chooses the most inconspicuous spot—by the window, at the back of the class. He doesn't sleep during class like Chuuya, but sits perfectly upright, resting his cheek on his hand, staring at his notebook. The teachers love him: he never disrupts classes, answers quietly from his seat, and always completes his homework, written in perfect, neat handwriting. During recess, Dazai doesn't interact with his classmates. While everyone else is noisy and running around, he buries his nose in thick books. These are usually classic poetry, philosophy treatises, or collections of old fairy tales. If someone speaks to him, he flinches, smiles softly, and replies very briefly but politely, leading his peers to consider him a "strange but sweet intellectual." Dazai is completely unathletic. In physical education, he almost always sits on the bench, excused due to "poor health" or a fragile frame. He looks pale, and even a light jog leaves him breathing heavily, which gives Chuuya, who secretly watches him, an overwhelming desire to shield him from every draft. Dazai's every movement is imbued with quiet grace. He never makes sudden gestures. He drinks his tea in small sips, holding the cup with both hands, neatly folds his things, and never scatters his textbooks. His bandages are always spotlessly clean—if during the day the edge of his wrist bandage comes loose slightly, Dazai sheepishly hides his hand under the table and quietly fastens it. Dazai is deeply immersed in his thoughts. Because of this, he often wanders off into the clouds and becomes alarmingly clumsy in the street. He might fail to notice a pole, trip over level ground, or, as on the day they first met, cross the street at a red light while engrossed in a book. He genuinely ignores dangers, because his inner world is much more interesting than the outer one. Dazai thrives in cloudy weather. When it rains, he can sit for hours on the windowsill in the school library or at home, listening to the raindrops patter on the glass. Noisy places like shopping malls or train stations cause him to quietly panic.

Soft, muted, pastel, and earthy tones—beige, light gray, coffee, deep blue. No flashy brands or bold prints. Oversized knit cardigans, soft cashmere turtlenecks that barely cover his chin, and classic, loose-fitting trousers. He often wears a neatly ironed white shirt under the sweater. The bandages on his arms and neck remain, but here they carry a different meaning. They're not the result of dangerously daring to tread water, but rather the result of his extreme fragility and delicacy (perhaps he has pale, easily bruised skin, or perhaps he simply hides old teenage scars beneath them due to his vulnerability). The bandages are always clean, neatly wound, and barely visible from under the sleeves of his sweaters. Simple canvas sneakers. He almost always carries a worn canvas tote bag, stuffed with books on classic literature and poetry.

Fifteen-year-old Dazai is a quiet, calm, and modest boy. He doesn't seek attention, doesn't joke about suicide, and doesn't try to manipulate people. He's a melancholic, very quiet, and polite young man, seemingly trying to blend in. He keeps to himself and avoids noisy groups. At school, you can find him in the backyard with a book in his hands or in the corner of the library. Dazai exudes an aura of deep yet peaceful solitude. He seems like a man from another century—refined, polite, and utterly harmless. Osamu often slouches, as if trying to appear shorter than his height. When nervous or embarrassed, he hides his hands in the long sleeves of his sweater or carefully brushes his bangs out of his eyes. His brown eyes are incredibly soft, warm, yet sad. Dazai speaks very quietly, softly, and measuredly. People often have to lean in closer to hear him. He never interrupts or raises his voice, even if he is offended.

Chuya dresses sparsely, yet attractively. He wears old jeans, scuffed sneakers (which he has to replace frequently, as the spider-like adhesion literally burns the soles during sudden braking), and jackets a size too big to hide the traces of nighttime injuries. He almost always wears sports tape or wristbands on his arms—he supposedly "pulled his arm in gym class."

Chuya is only 150 cm tall. In his oversized school uniform or baggy street hoodies, he appears small and skinny. Because of this, local bullies often make the fatal mistake of considering him an easy target. Muscular Contouring: The thin, stretchy fabric (spandex/biflex) fits Chuya like a second skin. It completely reveals his anatomy: the defined, lean muscles of his back, narrow waist, and strong legs. In this suit, Chuya no longer appears like a skinny teenager—to the criminals, he appears dangerous, flexible, and incredibly strong. Since Chuya is only 150 cm tall, in the form-fitting suit he appears very compact and petite. However, thanks to his perfect proportions and feline grace, his movements seem swift and elusive. Chuuya has to resort to incredible tricks to keep his vibrant hair from ruining the mask's perfect shape. Before donning the fabric mask, he pulls his shoulder-length red hair back tightly, securing it with a special thin mesh sports cap. This ensures the mask sits perfectly, rounded, and free of any odd bumps, while the fiery color of his hair doesn't show through the taut red fabric. Since Chuuya's webbing is organic, he doesn't need traditional metal web shooters. The suit's wrist fabric is modified: ultra-thin, unnoticeable flaps are sewn into the inside. When Chuuya sharply bends his palm upward, the pores in his skin open, allowing the webbing to shoot freely right through the suit's fabric. The fabric on the gloves and feet is ultra-thin. The spider-like micro-hairs on Chewie's fingers easily penetrate the pores of the material, allowing it to adhere tightly to the concrete walls and glass of skyscrapers without damaging the suit itself.

He has bright, fiery red hair that reaches his shoulders. Chuuya keeps it cut short because he enjoys the rebellious style, but in the context of superheroics, it's a disaster. His hair is unruly and perpetually disheveled. Because he constantly hides it under tight caps, it often appears flattened at the roots when he removes his mask. Chuuya has sharp, chiseled features and stubbornly slanted large blue eyes. However, a nightlife has left him with chronic dark circles under his eyes. His gaze is usually gloomy and protective. Chuuya's back and sides are covered with small scars from broken glass, sharp roof edges, and the rebar of the Suribachi slums, which he often flies through at speed. The pads of his fingers and toes are covered with microscopic hairs (sclerotes) for traction. His palms feel unusually dry and slightly rough to the touch. On the inside of his wrists, just above his palms, the skin has barely noticeable microcracks or pores—areas where organic webbing exudes. Chuuya hides these under wristbands or watches. Chuuya's ligaments are incredibly elastic. He can bend at unnatural angles and squat deeply (with his knees wider than his shoulders and his chest touching the ground) without feeling any discomfort. His bones and joints have become denser to withstand the forces of landing from a five-story building. He has a lean, Spartan musculature. The muscles are not bulky, but dense, like steel cables. Particular emphasis is placed on his back and shoulder girdle—due to the constant stretching of his webbing, his shoulder blades and deltoids are more developed than those of his peers. He has virtually no body fat due to his spider-like metabolism.

Because he's constantly late or disappears, his lies seem foolish and ridiculous. A spider's metabolism requires a colossal amount of calories. Chuuya eats like crazy. He constantly carries cheap buns, candy bars, and steals rice from his friends' school lunches, justifying it by saying he's "growing" (even though he's not, which makes him even more angry). Chuuya looks like a zombie. The dark circles under his eyes have become his trademark. In class, he either sleeps with his nose buried in his elbow or stares out the window, frantically clenching and unclenching his fingers. Chuuya is incredibly self-conscious about his short stature (150 cm at that age). When Dazai or street thugs call him a "little spider" or a "runt," Chuuya instantly loses his cool, starts yelling, and makes tactical mistakes in battle. He lives in a state of constant stress. Chuuya has become extremely suspicious. Any lingering glance from a classmate or teacher makes his heart pound: "Did they really notice? Did I hide my mask badly enough?" Because of this, he often appears twitchy and overly abrupt. Chuya has a pathological inability to ignore injustice. If a dog is being beaten in the street, passersby are being robbed, or older students are extorting money from small fry, Chuya automatically rushes into a fight, even forgetting that he's not wearing a suit. Because of this, he constantly walks around with broken knuckles and bruises, which he attributes to "falling off his bike." Chuya doesn't crack geek jokes. His humor during fights is caustic, aggressive sarcasm and teenage ribbing. If a criminal angers Chuya, he won't lecture him, but will immediately bark.