Chapter Text
The first thing to notice in darkness was the absolute, frightening feeling of not being able to see anything. The second thing was, the sound of complete silence, except your own breath. It was such an alien thing, to think that there was truly no other person here, watching, as Sumire Tsushima, Child Prodigy at the current age of 9, was actually scared of this emptiness.
_
A young girl, appearing no older than nine, darted her crimson red eyes stained with some chocolate in them, around the absolute darkness. Or in her words- Her own consciousness. Her lips curled upside down as a result to not seeing anything useful to crack this ‘hallucination’, her face formed a very poor attempt at a pout as she very grimly stood in the dark. “Again..?” She thought, reluctantly accepting that she’d waste time here.
She gazed forward into the endless black ink of her consciousness.
“I knew it wasn’t a hallucination.. This is too vivid, too real.. “A symptom of an overactive, developing brain.” He said. As if. I get that neither Mother nor Father take it seriously.. But really? The doctor too..? At this rate everyone’s ganging up on me..”
The young brunette thought as she looked around her, to find something- anything, that could explain this. … While the seconds passed in her head, ticking loudly and anxiously, her calm began to fray. She hunkered herself to the level of the chilly floor. Her fingers brushed against the surface, the sudden touch of the frosty floor jolting her to an alarming shock. The girl’s eyes widened, perplexed by this. Usually, when she’d have a nightmare like this one, coming in contact with a surface from the tips of her fingertips would snap her back into reality. However, this time it seemed to be different. Very different..
…
The sudden sound of footsteps startled her. It echoed through the void, along with the faint buzz of coldness..
A sharp ringing pierced her ears as she lifted her gaze. “I-It’s her..” The thought came unbidden, trembling at the edge of her mind.
It was a version of herself. The only difference was that this ‘version’ had no color—except the faint hue of blue and white.. And a diamond-shaped blue gem shimmering on their forehead..?
“..What are you doing here?” Sumi said, earning a hysterical, devious, and evil laugh in response.
“Oh? You seem uneasy about my presence.. What a shame. I was looking forward to being acquaintances—perhaps even friends,” they said, as they held their hand above their chin. Suddenly, they vanished.
“What are you- Where-!” The words tumbled from her lips in a panic. They had appeared again—this time kneeling behind Sumi, that same unsettling smile curling across their face.
“It’s been quite a while since we last met, has it not? And you’ve grown so much..” They stood up, brushing the dirt off their skirt, walking away from Sumi. “Who even are you..?” Sumi asked, standing up herself as she turned to look at this blue version of herself. “Hæhæhæ!.. I’m so very delighted you asked..” The shrill sound of their laughter echoed through the realm—it was not helping the ear ringing Sumi already had.
Sumi held her ears in an attempt to dull the noise of their laughter. They walked towards Sumi again, circling her with a perturbing smile on their face. “I’m you.. In every possible universe.” “W-what..? … You’re joking.. That’s not—not possible-!”
“We both know that it is very much possible, especially with NO LONGER HUMAN. I must admit, at first, I thought we weren’t capable of it. However, one of us has successfully proven me wrong—using tools out of reach to get what he wanted.. a smart one, indeed.. As a result, he caused US ; The connection—or more simply put, the ‘bridge’ between all the universes..”
Sumi resolved herself, actually putting her brain to use. “You mean.. A singularity..? ...So- My- Our- YOU are the cause of all this!?” Her eyes widened as the revelation hit her like a truck. “You catch on fast, don’t you? But yes. That is what you could call it.”
Sumi’s eyes widened, and then slowly steadied. “You’re not me.. You’re.. NO LONGER HUMAN .. Aren’t you supposed to guide me, or help me-?” They chuckled, turning around to face Sumi. “Oh, but that I am. By teaching you, the way of this world.” Sumi frowned, a thin line creasing between her eyebrows, the confusion on her face apparent. “What do you mean..?-” she uttered. “You will find out, in time. When the execution is finally.. Executed.”
Just before Sumi could process what they said, the once-dark realm was now filled with Kanji.
Then, the words began to spiral.
Bright blue letters filled the space, spinning and twisting in chaotic loops. They multiplied, forming swirling patterns around her, moving too fast for her to read. The characters were familiar—Kanji, she thought dimly—but their meaning was lost in the storm of motion. Amid the chaos, a light appeared. A door, brilliant and white, broke through the darkness like a beacon of hope. It glowed with a warmth that pierced the cold void. For the first time, the girl felt relief, a spark of salvation flickering in her chest. She took a shaky step towards it.
But they moved too. Their hands shot out, gripping Sumi’s arm with unnatural strength. “Oh ho ho! Where do you think you’re going?” They shriek, gripping Sumi’s hand tighter. “LET ME GO-!” She yelled, trying to get out of their grip. “Now, why should I do that..?” They chuckled, pulling her back with both arms now.
The door began to fade.
“No!” Sumi, struggling to free herself. She yanked at her arm, but the grip was ironclad. They didn’t speak this time; they only held her tighter, their eerie smile growing wider.
The white light dimmed until it vanished completely, leaving the girl surrounded by darkness once more.
The void cracked.
Pieces of the blackness splintered away, revealing shards of vivid images beneath. Memories—her memories—flashed around her like shattered glass. Moments she cherished, fragments of her past, swirled together in a kaleidoscope of color and emotion.
But the ground beneath her was breaking too.
The floor crumbled, and she fell.
Sumi screamed as the fragments of her memories dissolved into nothingness, leaving her tumbling into an endless expanse of neon blue. Letters—those same unreadable characters—floated past her in glowing streams, their light casting an otherworldly glow on her terrified face.
The blue version of herself was falling too.
They drifted above her, spinning lazily in the void. Their smile never wavered, a twisted mockery of calm that sent chills down her spine. The two of them tumbled together, over and under each other, as if they were trapped in an endless, weightless dance.
Sumi’s heart raced. She clutched at the empty air, desperate for something to grab hold of.
And then, the blue light began to fade.
The neon world dissolved, replaced by the same oppressive blackness as before. Sumi’s stomach churned as she fell, faster and faster, into the abyss.
Her breath hitched as she glanced at the blue version of herself. It was still there, falling with her, their smile growing wider. The sight filled her with dread.
“What is this..? Why- Why am I the one curse into such darkness? What is the purpose of this..?” Sumi whispered, her voice trembling.
The blue figure didn’t answer. They simply smiled.
And they kept falling, deeper and deeper, into the unending void.
Osamu Dazai woke up from his slumber in a sense of fear (yes, fear) and dread. He’d completely sweated through his clothes and the sheets. A sudden wave of nausea hit him like a truck. Immediately, the brunet sat up straight and held his mouth with his hands in a poor attempt to stop vomiting right here, on the bed.
He bolted to the bathroom, swinging the door open with a huge ‘Thump’, and kneeled down in front of the toilet seat, opening it as quickly as he could before letting out a string of gags, vomiting his stomach out.
He’d been like this for a week now.
Chuuya Nakahara, his former boyfriend, now husband (he really had to get used to the silver ring, tied to a necklace in his neck, it only happened a few months ago, on his birthday), was on a mission in France, lasting a week. Apparently the Port Mafia owed some weapons in return for jewels to the French Mafia, so of course Mori decided to dispatch Chuuya for the mission. He was half-French, and practically a master at jewels to know if the French Mafia were giving the PM the real deal or not. “A match made in heaven..” Dazai thought grimly as he wiped the barf off the corner of his mouth, trying to gauge if there was anything in his stomach left to throw up.
After waiting a minute or two, he deemed that there was nothing really left in his poor tummy and stood up, gripping the bathroom counter at the sudden dizziness washing over him.
“It’s just a cold,” he had said. “I’ll be fine. Go to your mission.” He had said. “Aww, Is my widdle hatrack worried-” He had also said, which had earned him a smack from Chuuya.
Whatever he said last week did not apply to whatever the hell he felt right now. He felt sick, he wanted Chuuya to pamper him, and he wanted to drop dead. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that he was, in fact, not fine.
Never mind that, he was the Demon Prodigy, for Arahabaki’s sake. He could handle some small illness. Dazai steadied himself on the counter, looking up at the mirror, frustrated for some reason. The reason was probably : He felt so goddamn nauseous all the time, he wanted to die (a painless death didn’t even matter anymore, he’d be just as happy with a painful death too), he felt bloated, he felt dizzy, he had the overwhelming urge to claw his flesh out and pull his hair out in the state of vexation he was in.
He gripped the counter with both hands and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible. His hair looked like a rat’s nest, he had dark circles under his eyes, he was sweating, and he looked so freaking pale. His breasts ached, no, his whole body ached. He looks so fucking ugly. But he bets that if Chuuya were here, he’d say, and quote, he’d say : “Tch.. You look like fucking hell, ‘Samu. But you’re my hell now, so sit your bitchass down and let me take care of you.”
… Yeah, he’d probably say that. Dazai cringed at the thought, sticking his tongue out as he thought about how sappy Chuuya would be for saying that. But Chuuya wasn’t here right now, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be until the next week or two. Which meant Dazai would not be resting now, and instead, working his butt off in the mafia (Not really, but yeah).
At around 10:50, Dazai walked into Lupin after a rather tiring day of work. He seated himself on one of the bar stools, slumping down on the table. Before the bartender could get his usual, he waved his hand and muttered : “No need. I’m not drinking today. A water would be fine, though.” The bartender nodded and got him a cup of water, setting it down on the table.
At 11 o’clock, Odasaku walked into the bar. Dazai’s eyes lit up a tad, the brunet sat up straight, twiddling with his cup of water. Without taking even a sip of what he ordered, he stared at Odasaku.
“Hey, Odasaku.” Dazai said with a mirthful note in his voice.
Odasaku greeted Dazai shortly before taking a seat next to him. The bartender gave Odasaku his usual before Oda uttered : “What are you doing here? And why did you only order water?” before taking a sip of his drink.
“Firstly, just thinking. Y’know, philosophical and metaphysical things. Secondly, I caught a cold or something. Been having a headache and I don’t wanna deal with a hangover tomorrow.. Plus, I can’t stomach anything.” Dazai said, sighing deeply as he slumped against the table again.
“Huh. Do you have a stomach bug or something? You should take some medicine. And, philosophical and metaphysical things? Like what?” The older man questioned, swaying his drink around in his glass.
Dazai pondered for a moment before answering, “For most things in life, it’s harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn’t you agree?” he said with a smile. Odasaku somehow knew where this was going.
But despite that, he answered, “True.” Before taking another sip.
“That’s why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Commiting suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide! Right?” Dazai said with a dark gleam in his eyes.
Odasaku sighed, looking down at his glass for a few minutes before answering, “You’re right. Although, are you sure this isn’t about Naka-”
“I knew it!” Dazai glowed, clasping his hands together. “Eureka, as they say! Well, there’s no time to waste. Let’s test the theory. Barkeep, got any detergent on the menu?”
“No,” the elderly bartender behind the counter replied while washing a glass. He was already used to Dazai’s stupid antics. “Youngsters these days..” He thought grimly.
“What about detergent with soda?” “No.” “Nothing, huh..?” “Looks like you’re out of luck.” Odasaku said, before adding, “Are you sure this isn’t about Nakahara, thou-”
“No. It’s not about him.” Dazai said immediately, pouting while he took a sip of his water.
… Odasaku nodded, then took a sip of his liquor, and asked Dazai, “So you’re in a philosophical mood tonight, huh? Did you mess up at work or something?”
Dazai let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Yeah, I messed up. Big-time.” He pouted. “It was a sting operation, see. It all started when we got word that some merry little group wanted to steal our smuggled goods during delivery. These friendly fellows were willing to snatch the bread out of our mouths, so I was certain they’d be some sort of imposing band of fearless warriors. I lay in wait to ambush them—my heart was racing with excitement. I thought if it all went well, I could die a heroic death on the battlefield. But the dozen or so armed guys who showed up were a real scrappy bunch. The only thing worth mentioning is the machine gun-equipped canvas truck with a rocket launcher attached. I was so disappointed that I set up a trap in the warehouse, but when we surrounded them and attacked, they ran away crying. Thus, I unfortunately avoided death once again. What a boring waste of time…”
What Dazai didn’t mention was the absolute hell he’d had while doing all that. His chest ached so damn much, and he felt nauseous the whole time. Odasaku looked at him for a second before asking, “What group were they with?” “We caught one of the little balls of energy before he could escape, so he’s being tortured as we speak. Probably shouldn’t be long before he talks.” Dazai said, twiddling with his cup again.
…
After a while of Odasaku and Dazai chatting (and Dazai persuading Odasaku into trying his tofu), a voice came between them.
“Odasaku… You should’ve spoken up right there.” Ango had come. “You’re too soft on Dazai. You should be calling him out and whacking the back of his head with a hammer for every two out of three things he says, or else he’s going to go off the rails. Look around. Notice the awkward silence of all the people wanting to say something. Even the barkeep is trembling a little.”
“Hey, Ango! Long time no see! Looking good!” Dazai raised a hand with a smile.
“Can’t say the same for you.. And you’re calling this ‘looking good’? I just got back from doing business in Tokyo…and it was a day trip. I’m as worn out as an old newspaper.”
“Barkeep, the usual, please.”
Dazai Osamu got home, or rather, the lavish apartment Chuuya had bought after The Flags had died. Chuuya couldn’t take in the fact that Albotross wasn’t there, and there would be no noise of the latter drinking above him. So, to fresh things up, he bought a new apartment on an impulse and.. well, he doesn’t regret it, or so he says. Dazai immediately clocked that Chuuya wasn’t sober when he bought it.
Dazai typed in the code and walked in the apartment, shutting the door behind him. Immediately, he dropped his act of ‘being ruthless and cold’, and groaned exasperatedly, throwing his black coat onto the sofa. He then started unbuttoning his vest, while heading towards the bedroom.
When he’d finally gotten down to his undergarments and bandages, he went into the bathroom for a nice warm shower. Yes, he would usually hate showers with all his gut, but after the soreness of his chest and body became harder to handle, he’d been urging to take a hot shower to dull the pain.
Plus, he felt clammy and sweaty from the nightmare in the morning and the constant throwing up that’d been happening for the past week or two.
As he slid down his undergarments, tossing them into the laundry basket, he looked at his body in the mirror. He was bloated, clammy, and great. His eye bandage was bleeding again. He unraveled the bandage, threw it into the trash, and resentfully decided on a bandage change.
Taking off his bandages (which he did while whining and groaning like a toddler), he finally stepped into the shower, and let the hot water dull the ache in his body. Gosh, today was terrible. He missed Chuuya. He missed how the idiot hatrack would welcome him home with some crab on the stove after a long day, and silently let him relax with cuddles and kisses.
He was too tired to even think about his body or anything today. All he wanted to do was eat some canned crab, take some cold supplements like Oda told him to, and maybe read a book and text Chuuya.
-
After the shower, he decided on some extra-soft bandages since the normal ones felt too itchy, and began wrapping them all over his body. He must be truly tired if he wasn’t feeling dysphoric right now. It happened a few times before. Mostly when he’d gotten hurt to a gruesome level, but eh, whatever. It was a good thing.
Eventually, he selected one of Chuuya’s oversized shirts, some soft cotton undergarments, and oversized sweats.
He walked into the kitchen, soft footsteps tapering across the apartment. Dazai searched the cabinets for some canned crab, taking a can out and setting it on the counter. He then kneeled down in front of the freezer and slid it open, searching for some ice cream. Great, there was some chocolate flavored ice cream left in a tub!
He eventually ended up in the bedroom, reading some romance story (and after he cringes, he'll switch to dark literature) on his kindle (which Ango had gifted him for his birthday), and ate ice cream (do not ask) and canned crab. A weird combination.. But then again, he was weird himself, so it ruled out, right?
The night ended.
Who knew that day at the bar would end up like this?
“Odasaku!” Dazai yelled as he ran as fast as he could, trying to reach Oda. He sprinted into the building and over to the ballroom, passing the myriad of corpses through the corridors along the way. When he finally burst through the huge oak doors, he saw his dear friend bleeding on the ground.
“Odasaku!” “Dazai..” Dazai rushed over to Oda, then checked his wounds. The bullet had punctured a hole in Oda’s chest, blood piling up on the floor. The would was fatal.
“Y-you’re such an idiot, Odasaku.. The biggest idiot I know.” Dazai said, his voice cracking in between. God, since when had he become this emotional?.. Tears piled up in his eyes as he realized only one person would be leaving the building alive today.
“Yeah..” Oda whispered, a small smile on his face.
“You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to-” the lump in his throat felt so big, as the tears finally escaped his eyes, “-die.”
“..I know.” The sight of this kid crying was the most unexpected thing Oda had ever experienced. He smirked, the satisfaction of doing something worth the cost rippling through his aching chest.
“Dazai.. There’s something I want to say..” The redhead said, his voice dipping on the edge.
“Don’t. Stop. We might still be able to save you! No, we will save you. So don’t say such-” The thought of Odasaku, whispering his last words in Dazai’s arms was unbearable to the latter.
“Listen.” Oda said firmly as he wrapped his blood-soaked hand around Dazai’s. “You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be able to find a reason to live..”
“Yeah, I said that. I did. But what difference does that—?”
“You won’t be able to find it. You might’ve found a will to put it off for a while, but you won’t be able to find a reason.” Odasaku said in almost a whisper. Dazai stared at him. His will of course, had bloomed when he’d met Chuuya. Chuuya had been exhilarating, Dazai’d been obsessed to figure Chuuya and his humanity out. Chuuya had given him a will to live longer. But that didn’t give him a reason ; something logical. Something he’d be willing to stick to at all times. His heart had been empty with no reason to live when he’d joined the Port Mafia. Chuuya had filled half of the hole in his heart. You could say Chuuya was technically a reason ‘to put off with dying for a while’.
But the other half was still aching for something. So it didn’t stop him from attempting to die. Chuuya could stop him when he wasn’t in a insanely destructive mood, but if it were to the point it had been when he’d attempted at 14, Dazai would be looking for a rope.
“You should know that. Whether you’re on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill that hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity.”
This was the first time someone had understood him so well. For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted from the bottom of his heart to know something. He asked the man before him:
“Odasaku.. What should I do..?”
“Be on the side that saves people,” Oda replied. “If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see the difference between right and wrong, but…saving others is something just a bit more wonderful.”
“How do you know?” “I know. I know better than anyone else.” Dazai gazed into Oda’s eyes and saw a glow of conviction. It was clear that those words were supposed to be some sort of strong basis. Whether it was past experience or someone’s advice—Oda was trying to show Dazai the path he himself had once tried to walk. Dazai knew that.
That was why he could bring himself to believe it.
“Okay, I will.” He said with a small smile, even if it wasn’t a happy one.
“‘People live to save themselves. It’s something they realize right before they die,’ huh…? He was…right…” The color in Oda’s face gradually disappeared until he was almost completely pale. He smiled. “I could really go for some of that curry…”
With trembling fingers, Odasaku reached for the cigarettes in his pocket before sluggishly placing one in his mouth. By the time he pulled out a match, his fingers were too weak to hold it anymore. Dazai took the match and lit the cigarette for him. Then Odasaku closed his eyes, smoking the cigarette as he smiled, filling to the brim with satisfaction.
The cigarette fell to the ground. The match went out between Dazai’s fingers. Dazai looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. His tightly shut lips trembled. His tears falling down his face freely, dropping onto Oda’s face, tapering so quietly.
Odasaku was dead and Ango had betrayed them.
That night, Dazai couldn't cry, but he wishes he could. Just this once. He wouldn't have minded being vulnerable just this once. But he forgot how to cry when he wanted to, how stupid.
Yet his beautiful doe eyes, with that rich chocolate brown color in them, had glistened with tears the whole night.
Osamu Dazai woke up to the sound of his phone ringing loud enough to make his ears bleed. He was surrounded by empty bottles of Sake and empty cans of crab, along with a tub of half-eaten ice cream on the cold floor. After yesterday, he’d cried his heart out with food and occasional vomiting in the bucket next to him, which was reeking of it disgustingly.
“Fuck.. My head..” He picked up his phone. Half a million messages from the Port Mafia stared him back in the face. The hungover brunet put his phone back on the floor, deeming all those messages useless to check up on. He was too tired to answer any of them, anyway.
Odasaku’s funeral would be in 2 weeks, Dazai thought.
…If he wanted to leave the mafia, he’d have to start prepping now. First was packing his bags, finding blind spots all over Yokohama and finding that special divisions agent, Chief Tornado..? Tanedo.. Taneda! Yes.. Finding him for jobs on the good side and finally, asking Ango to get his crimes cleared. And of course, being on the run all over the world for a good few years before joining that job.
He had a lot of things to do.
-
After freshening up, he started packing his bags. He had to leave for Odasaku. Otherwise he’d be disappointing the only one who understood the deep and inhumane ache of his heart. But.. leaving Chuuya.. It was hard to make a decision between following Odasaku or staying with Chuuya. They both meant so much to him. He wanted to listen to Oda, but he also wanted to stay with his other half.
But Chuuya would always be there. Odasaku wasn’t anymore. Chuuya would always be with him, even if not physically. They would be separated for a while, but their fate is that they are destined to be together no matter what. Call it ‘soulmates’, if you will. Chuuya would understand with time. Yet, it hurt. So, so much at the mere thought of leaving his beloved behind and without a goodbye.
He had let himself get attached. And now, he’s paying the price.
Sure, he could’ve asked Chuuya to leave the mafia with him, but.. after what happened to the slug at 16, he ultimately decided against it. Accepting the mafia as his family had been a long, torturing and gruesome process. Dazai didn’t want Chuuya to go through that again.
He knew he was being selfish and emotional (a shock), but Chuuya had finally made himself home after so much time. The mafia was his family. Dazai didn’t want to waste all that on him. Plus, he didn’t want to make Chuuya make the choice between himself and the Port Mafia. The redhead was far too loyal for that.
He wouldn’t drag Chuuya into his mess.
… Yet, before he left, he regrettably left a note behind for Chuuya.
’Dear Chuuya,
The past 3 years with you have been arguably the best of my life so far. Yet, I still cannot find a reason to live in that hellhole called the Port Mafia. I will always remember you, wherever and whenever it may be. As you are reading this, I am gone. Please do not grieve me, and move on, as that is my wish. I’m sorry. I cannot bear the ache of my heart anymore. Forgive me, my love. Take care of yourself. You changed me forever. And I mean it, take care. I love you with all my heart. I’m sorry that I won’t be there with you anymore. Forgive me, again, for that. Forgive me for everything.
Love, O.D., your other half.’
The brunet knew he was being cheesy, but he couldn’t help it. These were his last words to Chuuya.
With a one look over his shoulder, he left the apartment, the note lying on Chuuya’s desk, waiting to be read.
In the middle of a verdant mountain trail atop a hill overlooking Yokohama was a cemetery with a view of the ocean. There were many new graves lined up—among them a small white burial marker without a name. Dazai stood before the burial marker, dressed in black mourning clothes and holding a bouquet of white flowers. “……” He squinted as the strong sea breeze suddenly gusted past. The white flowers fluttered in the wind. “I’ll leave this photo here.” He took out a picture and placed it before the burial marker. Frozen in time were the smiles of those three men. “I really wish you could’ve tried that hard tofu I made…” Dazai closed his eyes, then stood absolutely still, rooted to the spot.
“I hope you’ll be proud of me, Dad.” A bittersweet smile graced his lips, and for once, he looked like a kid—a child, and not an adult beyond darkness.
-
After calling Ango and checking in to manipulate him into clearing his criminal records—which he didn’t need to do since Ango had no problem doing it—the latter had suggested Chief Taneda to him, in hopes that if Dazai would have his respect and support, he’d be able to get most jobs on the good side without an eye batted towards him. After all, the Chief was known to ace those sorts of tasks. Nevertheless, Dazai did not want to be affiliated with someone like him, it’s not about Chief Taneda at all, just the pure hatred he has for his former drinking buddy. But eventually, after persuading Dazai with something along the lines of: ‘It’s what Oda would want’, the younger gave in and agreed that he’d give it a shot, under the conditions that if the Chief ‘pissed him off’, he’ll never be accepting Ango’s help on things like this again.
So that’s how he’s ended up waiting in some cafe for a bald old guy with glasses and a stick. Dazai ordered a delicious dessert to accompany him, sighing at how ‘lonesome’ and ‘bored’ he was as the waitress had half a mind set on smacking that pitiful look off of the brunet’s face. Dazai had put on a disguise for today too, sunglasses and a mask, plus some blue contacts. It suits him better than Chuuya he thinks, smirking to himself slightly before his smile disappears once the awaited man enters the cafe. Chief Taneda instantly catches his gaze and offers him a bootlicking smile, making his way towards their table. Dazai’s carefree act disappears and his posture straightens along with his body language. It’s way more firm now, and a frown sneaks its way under his mask. He stood up and offered a small bow, “Taneda-san,” while the bald man reciprocated it before the both of them sat down, the chairs screeching against the floor whilst everyone else spared them a glance prior to going back to their chatter and work.
“Dazai-san,” The Chief says, and Dazai offers him a tight smile after taking off his mask. “Sakaguchi recommended you to me, and it seems that you need some fishing out?” Dazai’s smile widens, straining even more as he replies, “Why yes! Ango said you could assist me in getting a job on the good side?” Taneda lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Former Port Mafia Executive, yes? And even the Boss’s right-hand-man. What a list of achievements you’ve earned yourself.. As for the matter we’re here for.. With your list of crimes and reports, it’ll take a long time to get your name off those papers—but I suppose I could arrange for some plans and enlighten you with the list of opportunities you have. But please, quench my thirst and illuminate to me on why you’re searching for a better job off with the do-gooders when you had a well-paying and high rank in the Port Mafia?” Taneda draws out, stroking his beard whilst he waits for a response from the ex-criminal in front of him and for a waitress to come and take his order.
“My reason is simple,” Dazai grits out, clenching his teeth before speaking up again, “a friend of mine died due to a tragedy that happened in a conflict between the PM and another organisation. Before passing, he advised me to do some good and save people instead of hurting them, so here I am.” His voice is so strained, some person else would’ve pissed their pants by now, hearing the cold anger of it, yet somehow, Taneda sits unfazed—he’s either oblivious or really good at acting. “Well then, I’d like you to hear my first suggestion. If your loyalty stands clear and firm to the good side, then I’d fancy it if you took up a place in the SDU with your skills and all, we’d be much better off.” And that’s where he lost Dazai, because as soon as Chief Taneda finished that sentence, Dazai stood up and bowed. “Thank you for your time and patience, this has been a wonderful meeting, but I am not joining the SDU, and I’d prefer if we never meet again, thanks.” He straightened himself and left the cafe.
Taneda stared at Dazai’s retreading back in slight shock, the smile on his face widening from being dumbfounded for so long. The waitress then came over to him, and instead of offering him a menu, she offered him a check. So Dazai had left without paying, too. What an amusing man.
The bus ride to Osaka was quiet and depressing. The cheap bus rocked up and down as they passed a bumpy road. It was midnight. Dazai had to bite back the nausea and the overwhelming urge to vomit.
It’s just the aftershock of everything that happened, he thinks to himself. Yet, deep down, he knows it’s more than that.
The darkness of this world has become clear to him. For once, he's found himself listening to someone else. Odasaku had been right, Chuuya nor anything else would be able to quench his thirst, to fill that void in his heart. Nobody and nothing would be able to fill it, and that is the sole reason he believes he isn't human. A human would have a reason. A human, like Chuuya. Chuuya wants to live. He has that determination that you can only find in the most humane of all. That is but the reason Dazai had fallen in love with Chuuya in the first place. Chuuya, in all his misery and had managed to keep wanting to live. He'd never let that fire dim. That fire would only blaze further. Dazai, on the other hand, is beyond this world. He is not a human, he is an alien, a thing not from this world. He doubts that he'll ever see a humane trait in himself.
… He misses them. He misses them all. The chatter of the bar, the love of two fathers, and the love of his husband. A lump forms itself in his throat, but he swallows it down, darting his eyes to the city passing beside him.
He hopes he did the right thing.