Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

'Crazy things keep happening today. My life is about to get screwed up it seems.'

-Oda, Sakunosuke

The Day I Picked Up Dazai (Side A)

March 8th

It's a quiet morning. I stand in the small kitchen of my even smaller apartment, staring out through the window that's even smaller than that. I catch my neighbor pulling their garbage container to the curb for public pick-up. I take a sip of my coffee while watching that. His progress is pathetically slow. I take another sip.

For a moment, I consider helping him.

But then, I think better of it.

His trash is really none of my concern.

...it's best if I don't get involved....

The apartment across the street casts a long black shadow on the pavement in front of my view of the street. The trumpet vines planted in the hedge rustle in the breeze, and whisper to each other in a way that humans can't decipher. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the sound of the long-distance trucks scraping against the road surface.

And then-

My phone rings.

I glance at the number, and see that it's one I don't recognize.

Don't answer it. It's bad news.-I can hear the voice in my head ominously warn. There's nothing more stupid than taking a call from a suspicious number. I guess I should probably listen to that voice.

...that is what a wise man would do...

Before following the angel’s advice, I take one more glance at the ringing phone. And then, against my better judgment, I pick it up and answer anyway.

Perhaps I'm not that wise, after all...

'Oda-san?' I hear the unfamiliar voice along the other end of the line address me.

“Yes.” I confirm.

'Oda, Sakunosuke?' The person asks again, with more detail, as I give my reply.

“Yes. This is he.”

'I'm calling from Yokohama Chuo Hospital.' The caller proceeds after making sure they have reached the right person. 'I'm so sorry to bother you at this hour, Oda-san.' Their voice sounds grim when offering this apology to me. 'But, regrettably, I must inform you that there's been a terrible accident.'

Chapter Text

March 18^th

Every time the car jerks to a stop, and the seat-belt tightens against his chest, he feels his body tense. And every time it lurches forward, and his back is pressed into the seat by the movement, it's the same thing. As he looks down, gazing at his bandaged hands with his uninjured eye, he notices that they're shaking. But it's not as if he's feeling scared. Because he's not.

He's not scared.

Or sad.

Or any of the other things he maybe should be feeling, and isn't.

The constricting of his muscles and trembling of his hands is simply something his body is doing. A physical reaction, and nothing more. But still. He finds that he doesn't exactly like being in this car. Or any car, for that matter. He hates it, in fact. But he still doesn't feel scared. It's simply that, ever since the accident, whenever he gets into a car his body feels so tight. Excruciatingly tight. And he wants to crawl right out of his skin in order to get out of his own body, and away from this pain.

...he hates pain...

He glances out the passenger window to distract himself. To take his mind out of his body. And as he watches the world around him pass him by, that's when he begins to feel the car slow down again. Then it comes to a stop. And it occurs to him that the building he's staring at seems vaguely familiar.

An unassuming apartment complex.

Nothing fancy.

Nothing flashy.

He thinks back to the last time he's actually been here. It must have been at least two years. Maybe three. When his cousin first moved in. He remembers that he came to visit once-maybe twice. But it has been years since he's seen the man.

Not that the two of them weren't close, despite the five-year difference in their age.

They were inseparable, in fact, when growing up.

He recalls having been attached to his cousin's hip since five, when he had finally been able to keep up with his then ten-year-old cousin. But when his cousin became an adult, turning eighteen, he left their neighborhood-and him-to move half way across this city.

He had been thirteen when that had happened.

But he's not thirteen anymore.

And his cousin is well into his twentieth year by now.

“We're here.” The driver announces into the silence of the car.

He blinks. Then turns his head from the window to see the cab driver staring expectantly at him. That means he should get out of the car, now. So he does. Carefully unbuckling his seat-belt and opening the car door in order to let himself out without saying a word to the driver before shutting it again.

He goes to the back of the car to collect his bag in silence, before closing the trunk and walking up to the curb with his few belongings. And then he hears the sound of the cab pulling away. It makes him flinch.

He stands alone at the curb, bag-in-hand, staring silently at the apartment building in front of him. And he finds himself thinking some very deep, philosophical thoughts.

Like-

As of today, his whole entire world is changing.

Chapter Text

March 18th

I gaze expectantly out the window of my living room. Watching. Waiting. He should be arriving any minute now. And I find myself at a loss for words as to what I am to say when he finally gets here.

His entire world has been turned upside down, and is changing drastically.

And-

So is mine.

Only ten short days ago, I discovered I have lost my aunt in a fatal car crash.

But today, he has buried his mother.

And I am certain that there is nothing I can say to him when he finally comes. But I feel as if it is my duty to at least try. After all-as of today-he is now my responsibility. And as his legal guardian, I should have some words of wisdom and comfort to impart on him when he arrives, shouldn't I?

My train of thought is abruptly disturbed by the taxi that pulls up to the curb, and then stops. I watch in silence as nothing immediately happens. A second. Tens of seconds. And then I see a young man finally exit the vehicle.

It's him.

It has to be.

The young man removes his belongings from the back of the car, and then steps up to the curb as the vehicle pulls away. It is then that my body makes the decision to leave the apartment in order to properly welcome him. I make my way through the front door of my home, and then stop in the middle of the cracked concrete stairs that lead to the front porch of this building.

I look at the young man who still looks young enough to pass as a boy, even though he has grown much taller since the last time I saw him. He is all black. A high-collar black jacket, a three-piece suit, a black tie. The things that are not black are his button-down shirt, and the bandages around his head, which are a shade of bone-white in contrast to the black.

It appears as if he has come here directly from the funeral, without even stopping to change his clothes...

As he approaches me, I see that his walk is slow and arduous, as if his whole body is in excruciating pain. It probably is. The black jacket comes draped across his shoulders like a cloak, his arms outside of the sleeves, as one holds the suitcase and the other comes bandaged and wrapped in a sling.

I had been informed of his condition. That he had been hospitalized for some days due to his injuries from the accident. But even with this knowledge, I find I am not prepared to see him like this. To see him in so much pain. I come off of the steps in order to help him with his suitcase. We come to meet each other outside of the building, and he just stares at the ground, avoiding my gaze. No emotions, no intent. Just a flat expression.

I want to say something to him. But before I have the chance to open my mouth to speak, the suitcase slips out of his hand, and onto the ground. And without warning, he almost collapses into me. I quickly wrap my arms around him. To hug him? To keep him from falling down, or falling apart? I don't know. I do it out of instinct. I feel him lean his body against mine, burying his head into my shoulder, and I hold him a little tighter in my arms.

He doesn't say anything.

Neither do I.

And so begins the strange communal life of me and my fifteen-year-old cousin, Shūji Tsushima.

Chapter Text

March 19^th

It's quiet.

So very quiet.

Neither one of them has spoken a word since being awake and together.

Not that this bothers him. After the days he has spent in the hospital, being monitored at all hours of the day by people he doesn't know, it's actually nice. No one is asking him any questions. He doesn't feel as if he has to speak.

He doesn't really want to.

He doesn't really know if he can.

Because it feels like it will take too much effort if he tries.

They sit at the small breakfast table together. Though it's not much of a table. It's really only fit for one person. And it occurs to him that he doesn't really belong here.

But they both sit there. His cousin takes a bite of toast. Then takes a wordless sip of his black coffee to wash it down. He has a plate of toast and a cup of black coffee, too. But they go untouched. The analogue clock hanging on the wall sounds louder than it probably should. But that's just because it's so quiet.

He ignores his coffee and toast.

He listens to the loud ticking of the clock, instead.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” He hears his cousin ask him.

But the sound of his cousin's voice feels wrong, somehow. Like the whole experience is outside of himself. And he has to second guess himself on if he actually heard the question to begin with. His cousin has asked him a question. Right? Slowly glancing up from the cup of coffee he's been vacantly staring at, he finds his cousin looking at him. But his cousin doesn't seem angry with him. Or frustrated. Or even worried, for that matter.

His cousin is simply waiting patiently for an answer.

Oh...

Right...

Because he's just asked him a question. His cousin asked if he slept okay the night before. Not an unusual question. A normal one, really. It had been his first night here, so his cousin is merely wanting to know if he had slept well. Shūji feels himself numbly nod his head in response to his cousin's question. Yes. He slept okay. And his cousin seems to accept his answer.

It's a lie, of course.

He didn't sleep at all the night before.

He spent all night awake, sitting cross-legged in the bed his cousin has made up for him, staring off into the darkness until it had been light enough to be up and out of his room. That's not his cousin's fault, though. So there's no need to mention anything about it. Shikata ga nai-he silently thinks to himself as his empty gaze drifts back to the table, and his untouched food and coffee. It cannot be helped. And nothing can be done about it.

“Listen, Shūji-” He hears his cousin's voice again in that strange way, but he doesn't look up from the table.

He knows for certain this time that his cousin is talking to him.

“I have to go into work today.” His cousin tells him.

Right...

Because he has a job now.

As a mail delivery person..?

For special packaging and shipments..?

Shūji hears his cousin continue with what he's going to tell him.

“Are you going to be okay being alone for a few hours?”

Shūji nods again. And this time it's not a lie. He's going to be perfectly fine if his cousin has to leave the apartment for the day in order to work. He's going to be okay being left alone. Because he's already as alone as he can possibly get. His cousin staying home from work today, just to be with him, won't change that.

His cousin finishes what's left on his plate, along with the rest of his coffee, before standing from the table and placing the dishes in the sink.

“There isn't much in the fridge.” His cousin tells him. “But help yourself to whatever we have if you get hungry.”

Shūji nods.

He won't.

“I'll go to the store after work, and when I come back I'll make us curry for dinner.”

Ah.

So his cousin has kept to his odd 'eat curry once a day' motto. Some things never change. And this might have made him smile, if he actually could have.

His cousin doesn't waist time uselessly hovering, and Shūji is grateful for this. He bids Shūji farewell and then leaves in order to go about his business for the day. The door to the apartment closes, and Shūji is alone. He sits at the table for a moment. And then a little longer. Then he finally stands up and takes his plate of untouched toast to the garbage receptacle. Discarding his breakfast, Shūji places his own plate in the sink. And then he stares out the small kitchen window. He takes a breath in. Holds it. And then he breaths out.

And it's quiet.

It is so very quiet.

Chapter Text

March 23^rd

It's Saturday. And the first week of this strange communal existence with my cousin has been hard. Much harder than I had expected. And not at all for the reasons I had thought it would be. Living on my own for two years now, I have grown accustom to the quiet of my home. I've grown accustom to not speaking much. Not that I had been much of a talker when growing up. I had prepared myself, on some level, to have my peace and quiet interrupted by my cousin's presence.

But living with Shūji is like living with a ghost.

And it's hard.

He hasn't said so much as a single word to me since his arrival. Though I'm not one for frivolous conversation, I find his silence...disconcerting. He always seems so pensive. So deep in thought. And always, always beyond my reach. I talk to him. But he never says anything in response, merely indicating some form of answer with the wordless gesture of his head or shrug of his shoulders.

I know this is all new to him. I know he needs time to adjust. We both do. But I find myself wishing I knew what that is suppose to entail. I'm not the boy's father. I'm not even that much older than he is. And I don't know the first thing about raising children. And each night this week that I have gone to bed, I have gone to bed with the angel's voice whispering to me-you're in over your head, Sakunosuke.

I know. And as I stare at him staring blankly at the plate of food in front of him, I sigh through my nose. I know that I am all wrong for this, but nothing can be done about it. It cannot be helped. It's not as if I can turn the boy away. Not now. Not even if I want to. Which I don't. But the truth remains that I am the only person my cousin has to count on. And I need to fill that role for him, whether I know how to or not.

“Listen, Shūji.” I begin, gaining my cousin's attention as he glances up from his dinner. “Spring vacation is almost over, and the new school year will be starting soon.” I pause, then continue again when he says nothing. “I'm going to have to enroll you at the nearby high school for the first semester.” His gaze goes back to the plate of food on the table.

He doesn't say anything, which isn't surprising.

But his expression looks conflicted with the slight grimace of his lips.

It's too soon. It's too soon for this. It's too soon for me to be throwing him back into the world. It's too soon to be pushing for things to go back to normal. Shūji begins to open his mouth and breathe in as if he's about to say something. Then he ends up not saying anything at all. His mouth is quietly closed, together with a sign that it should not have been opened from the beginning.

But it's something that we need to talk about. Because it's something that needs to happen-sooner, rather than later. I know it. So does he. Because, eventually, he gives me a halfhearted nod from across the small table in my-now our-kitchen.

And then he goes back to picking at his dinner.

It seems as if this conversation is over with Shūji's reluctant acceptance to beginning a new school year. Silence follows this one-sided conversation as I turn my attention back to my own food. And I prepare myself to continue sharing another meal with a ghost. That is, until the silence is unobtrusively disturbed by the faintest whisper of a hushed voice.

“Ne, Odasaku..?” Stunned, I blink and look up from my plate to see my cousin staring at me from across the table.

The faint sound of my childhood nickname pulls me all the way back to when I'd been only thirteen years old, and Shūji just eight.

Ne, Sakunosuke!

I think you should change your name!

Sakunosuke is too long. And it's too hard to say.

And Oda is just plain boring!

You're way too strange to have such a boring name like that, Sakunosuke.

From now on, your name should be Odasaku!

Yeah!

Odasaku is way cooler!

It's official.

When they ask, now you have to tell everyone that's your name!

Sadly this name never really catches on, despite his valiant efforts. And Shūji is the only person who calls me that.

“...Shūji..?” I feel my brows furrow along my forehead, and I'm not really sure if I have just heard what I think I've heard.

It's quite possible that, in the silence, I've begun to hallucinate.

“...can I ask you for a favor..?”

But it's not. This is no hallucination. He's actually talking. I'm absolutely flabbergasted by this sudden change in him.

“Of course you can.” I say, embracing and almost celebrating my cousin's decision to finally use his words with me.

“Well-” He slowly beings as he quickly glances down again. “since I have to start the semester in a new school-” He says, knowing that living with me places him too far away to continue to attend his former school. “I was wondering if you'd let me change my name..?”

This request confuses me.

As his guardian, I suppose I do have the power and authority to grant him this favor. At the very least, I imagine that I have to agree to this. Which is probably why he's asking me in the first place. It makes sense why it's me that he's asking. But what I don't understand is why he wants to change his name in the first place. Why this sudden request for a new identity?

I place my utensils to the side of my plate, giving him my full attention.

The way he so patiently waits for my answer tells me that this is very important to him.

“Shūji-” I say his name with emphasis as I see him slightly hunch his shoulders and shrink away at it. “why do you want to change your name?”

I'm not saying no.

And this seems to encourage him to answer me.

“I don't know.” He mumbles with a passive shrug from across the table without looking at me as he speaks. “But it just doesn't feel right anymore.”

I frown at this answer with the crease of my brows. I don't understand. But then, looking at him, I think that maybe I do. His whole entire world has just changed, and nothing of his old life remains. And perhaps, in his mind, his name no longer fits him in this new life. His new existence.

His answer is strange, yes. But simple.

And somehow, it seems to make sense to me.

“Did you have another name in mind?” I ask my next question, which causes Shūji to look up in response, as if I've already said yes to him.

“Yeah-” He mumbles, a little sheepishly this time. “Dazai.” This name parts his lips. “Dazai, Osamu.” I cock my head to this, the name sounding familiar to me.

“The author?” Now it's my cousin's turn to be surprised.

“You know him?” I nod in response to his question.

“I read one of his books in high school.” I watch Shūji contemplate this in silence as his gaze drifts back down to the table before I give him my answer to the favor he's asked of me. “I'll talk to the school, and see what I can do about changing your name.”

It's not much.

But I see the faintest little flicker of a weak smile from my cousin before he nods, then goes about poking along his dinner once more.

And that is how my first, strange conversation with my cousin, now Osamu Dazai, ends.

Chapter Text

April 1^st

His eyes flutter open.

Are they really open, though?

Or is he still asleep, and merely dreaming this moment?

The room is too dark to tell. But soon enough, the darkness around him begins to slowly dissipate and lighten into a softer gray. And then he hears a light knock on the door to his room before it comes open.

“Dazai-” His cousin calls into the room, and Osamu can't help but smile into the pillow he buries his face into.

A part of him can't exactly bring himself to believe that his cousin has not only agreed to calling him by his new name, but that the man actually managed make it official, and convince the school to do the same. Simply because Osamu asked him to. His cousin doesn't seem to fancy calling him by his first name, though. Just Dazai. It's strange. And, strangely, Osamu finds himself liking this. Somehow it just feels right, coming from his cousin.

“Dazai, are you awake?” It suddenly dawns on him why his cousin has come into his room to wake him as Osamu groans in open protest.

“...no...”

He doesn't see the look on his cousin's face. But he imagines that the man is somewhat amused by his response-if only just a little.

“It's time to get up, and start getting ready for school.” Comes this calm, patient prompt to his budding refusal.

Silence follows. But he can tell his cousin isn't leaving the room. In fact, he has a sneaking suspicion that his cousin won't leave until he actually gets up. So Osamu slowly props himself up to sit in his bed. He stares at his cousin, who simply returns the look he's giving him with a passive expression. And it's such a silly little argument he begins to have with himself inside of his own mind. His cousin said he needs to be enrolled in high school. But there hasn't been any formal discussion about him having to actually attend once enrolled.

It occurs to him then that, maybe if he can argue his point well enough with his cousin, he won't have to go.

“...do I have to..?”

In his mind, logically, he knows that he does. But he also knows that he doesn't want to. He knows that a part of him doesn't exactly know how.

To get out of bed.

To get dressed for the day.

To go to a new school.

To be around other people.

To catch up to a world that has been moving forward without him for the last month, while he's been standing perfectly still.

The task seems insurmountable. And just as he's about to open his mouth and explain this to his cousin, the man finally offers an answer to his question from the entryway of his room.

“No.” His cousin quietly offers in a contemplative voice, pausing a moment with a look to him that Osamu can't quite see before continuing. “You don't.”

...wow...

Okay, then.

Osamu is momentarily stunned by this answer. There's no fight. There's no argument. There's no debate. There's no need for convincing. And from the look on his cousin's face, Osamu knows that the man is being completely serious. His cousin's not going to force him. For today, at least, he doesn't have to go to school if he doesn't want to.

This isn't something he's expecting. And for a moment, he's not exactly sure what to do. But then that moment quickly passes. Not being one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, he takes hold of this victory in order to slump back into his bed. He rolls over onto his side, facing the wall with his back to his cousin, as he curls up in the fetal position on the bed. His eyes close shut again. But his cousin still doesn't leave. Not just yet.

“I have to leave for work in about half an hour.” He says from the doorway. “If you change your mind, and are ready by then, I'll take you to school.” Osamu listens intently to his cousin, but doesn't respond. “If you change your mind by the time I've already left, and want to go, you can use the bike in the front entryway to get yourself there.”

The door to his room is closed then. And he's left alone with his thoughts. But he finds that it's not long before having gotten exactly what he wants becomes unbearable to him. He sits back up in his bed, scowls into the darkness, then goes about getting out of bed and making his way to the small closet space in his room. He reaches for the school-provided uniform and goes about dressing himself without turning on the light. It's slow. And it's awkward. Because his body is still sore, and his right arm is still meant to be in a sling. But he manages the task on his own, without help. Then he opens the door to his room and begins a slow, lethargic trudge to the only bathroom in this apartment.

He looks at himself in the mirror.

His hair is a mess.

His life is a mess.

He...is a mess. And he knows it, too. Not that it's difficult to see, looking at his own reflection. Cautiously rubbing the exhaustion from his face, he tries to avoid disturbing the bandages covering his right eye. But they're uncomfortable. And they make his face and scalp itch.

...he hates them...

He takes a moment to quickly and carefully run his fingers through his unruly mop of dark auburn hair. But it's no use. Everything's still a mess. And he thinks he looks strange. He is strange. Turning his back on the mirror and his own reflection, Osamu leaves the bathroom.

Coming into the small kitchen, he finds his cousin sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, reading a book. And it's like the man has been waiting for him. But when he finally comes to the table, his cousin doesn't even give him a second look.

He sips his coffee.

And then he turns the page of his book.

“So I see you decided to change your mind, after all.” He finally hums from across the table.

“You did that on purpose-” Osamu openly accuses his cousin. “didn't you?”

His cousin takes another sip of his black coffee with one hand before setting the cup back on the small table.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” He deadpans, and Osamu scowls at him from across the table.

“There's no point in staying home from school if your just going to let me do it.” Osamu grouses with the faint scowl he can feel beginning to shape his expression.

“Is that so..?” His cousin calmly counters towards Osamu's juvenile complaint before his eyes slowly lift up from the pages of his book with a flat expression. “Poor you.”

The man's humor is dry. It's sardonic. And now it's at his expense. And for the first time in almost a month-a month-Osamu feels the first spark of emotion. Irritation.

...and this feeling, it physically burns, like acid being poured on his skin...

He hates it.

So-much-so, that he reacts before he can think to stop himself.

“Since when did you become such a mean old man?!” He finds himself angrily snapping at his cousin, who simply takes another passive sip of his morning coffee before deigning to answer him in a calm tone.

“Probably around the same time you became a crabby teenager.”

Osamu feels his lips press together. This isn't funny. But then... Why does he suddenly feel like bursting out into laughter? He just can't believe that he's completely missed it up until now. That his cousin-who is now currently sipping on his coffee with a serene expression-has managed to get him out of bed, and dressed, in order to go to school without having lifted a single finger. Without effort or force, his cousin has managed to make going to school today his choice, and no one else's. It almost feels as if he's been tricked.

Clearly he's underestimated his cousin's subtle, tactical genius.

“If you want something to eat, you'd better hurry up.” He hears his cousin tell him from across the table. “We have to leave soon if neither one of us wants to be late today.”

“No thanks.” He grumbles. “Pass.” He's still upset, and his cousin passively shrugs.

“Suit yourself, then.” Again, this acceptance of his refusal avoids another pointless fight.

The two sit in this silence, then. There is no need for another word to be spoken between them. Osamu rests his chin in his hand with a petulant expression. And he waits for his cousin to finish his coffee before taking him to school.

Chapter Text

April 5^th

It's the end of the week. Friday. The hours I've worked have been long this week. And the idea of going home immediately after work is so appealing. But I have to go shopping for food, which only prolongs my already lengthy and tiring day. Then on my way back to the apartment I find myself compelled to stop at a local bookshop, and go inside.

I don't know why.

Not at first.

But then the reason shows itself to me, and I smile.

When I finally walk through the front door of the apartment, loaded down with groceries and the single item I'd found at the bookstore, the sun has already set. The house is quiet, but that's nothing new. I know that my cousin is already home from school. I can sense his presence through the house when I enter. This has become normal, too. And it no longer throws me off like it used to.

Setting the bags of extra food down on the limited counter-space that I don't really have to spare, I make quick work of filling the small fridge and cupboards. Then, once that task is done, I go to find my cousin to let him know that I'm finally home.

Making my way to the only bedroom in this apartment-the one that used to be mine before the living room futon became my resting place-I find the door open, and my cousin sitting in the bed with his books. I knock on the door-frame to get his attention. He glances up from the book in his lap, and I make myself at home as I lean against the threshold of the door.

This is our routine, now.

Our 'new' normal.

“I didn't hear you come in.” He mumbles to me from where he sits on the bed. “Welcome home.” I nod, and greet him in return.

“How was school today?”

I've asked this question every day this week. And the answer is always the same. I anticipate it. I wait for it. My cousin gives me the silent shrug of his shoulders. Then he responds with a single word.

“Fine.”

However, this time his answer comes far less convincing as his eyes drift back down to the text book that obviously holds little interest to him. And for the first time this week, I feel like I finally have some ground to stand on when I slowly enter his room and see if I can press my luck, and take this conversation just a little further than a one word answer.

Not that I think he's lying to me.

But he's a young man of few words. Something I'm finding that we have in common, actually. I also know, from personal experience, that navigating high school is hard in-and-of itself. And my cousin is dealing with so much more than just that. So if something is going on at school that's bothering him? I wouldn't necessarily expect his first thought to be to share this with me. Not if I just let him off the hook, and let it go.

...so I don't...

Not this time.

And I sit my self on the end of his bed.

My cousin looks back up from his text book-one on Japanese literature-and regards me for a moment with a blank expression. But it's not the haunted, almost vacant stare he used to give me-as if he were looking right though me. It's different. He's looking at me now as if he's trying to figure out what I want without having to ask me. And he's clever. Very clever. I have no doubt that if I were to give him time, he'd be able to do just that. But then I'm sure that this conversation would be very different.

“So you like your new school?” I ask this new question, ending the suspense as my cousin's lips form into a flat line.

“I didn't say that.”

I know-I think to myself as I stare intently at him-You didn't say anything.

“Okay...” I slow my words to a pointed, contemplative tone. “You don't like it, then.” I venture, earning a scowl from my cousin this time as he looks away from me.

“I didn't say that, either.” He grumbles, and my response comes blunt with the look I spare him from the edge of his bed.

“Then tell me what you are saying.”

Silence follows as Dazai continues to glare at the book open along his lap. I can see that he's trying to figure out exactly what he's going to tell me. And it doesn't seem to take him long in order to settle on telling me the truth.

“My teachers don't like me.” My brows furrow in confusion over hearing this.

“How do you know that, Dazai?” I ask him, because it seems nearly impossible that these adults would have formed any sort of opinion-one way, or the other-of him in the first week of school.

My cousin shrugs his shoulders. And he doesn't look up at me.

“I just know.” Is his only answer, and it sounds so very resolute coming from him that all I can do is offer the faint nod of my head.

If my cousin is wrong about this, I don't have any way to prove it.

“Anything else?” I quietly ask, encouraging this openness from my cousin when he falls silent again.

He presses his lips together, and shakes his head.

I sigh through my nose, a little disappointed by his silence.

And then, he surprised me by actually offering me an answer.

“The other students look at me like I'm strange.”

These words hit me so hard. Because I can tell by the way he says this that it has nothing to do with him being a new student to the school. For as long as I can recall, there has always been something a little different about my cousin. And, growing up, I'd always believed that I noticed this in him because there was something a little different about me as well. Neither one of us had really fit in growing up, which was probably why we had always stuck together when we were just kids.

I know what it's like to not fit in.

And then it occurs to me that I'm being given the opportunity to tell him what no one had ever told me when I was growing up. Something that I had needed to learn on my own, and wished that I hadn't.

“Dazai-” My voice comes little more than a whisper in the small space between us. “there's something I want to say to you.” The seriousness of my words manage to pull him from the text book in his lap as he looks at me instead. “Listen-” I take a breath, knowing that what I have to tell him will be hard to for him hear. “they look at you that way because you are strange.” These truth-filled words seem to sting, but I press on anyway, despite the look on his face. “You don't fit in, because you are a strange man-Dazai, Osamu.” He stares at me intently, looking somewhat bewildered, but doesn't say anything. “But these are strange times you're living in.” I say. “And I'm not sure if you will ever really fit in.” My words come calm and pensive-slow, and thoughtful in contemplation. “Maybe you're not supposed to.” When my cousin opens his mouth, his voice sounds strangely small, and fragile.

“...Odasaku..?” He stares at me without looking away, so I can see the conflict raging within him. “If I'm not supposed to fit in-” His voice faintly quivers along his words. “then what should I do?”

And for a split second, my cousin looks absolutely crushed by what I've just told him. He was no doubt looking for some guidance. And here, I have just told him the cold, hard truth. But I have a point. And for the first time, I feel like I know what to say. So I smile at him, and place my hand on the top of his head as I answer his question.

“Keep being strange.” I tell him, and for a moment he looks a little lost.

Clearly he wasn't expecting that answer from me.

“Because it's okay not to fit in.” My hand slides from the top of his head, back down to my side as I continue to look him in the eye. “And there's nothing wrong with being a little strange.” I see his confusion quickly turn into the sliver of a smile towards my encouragement for him to be himself. “In fact, I think that's what is going to get you through these hard times.”

My cousin looks away, quietly contemplating what I've just told him.

He finally nods in understanding, accepting my advice to him without saying another word.

And this time, his demeanor and aura seems content, and at peace.

The silence between us now is calm, and almost comforting. Like a mother holding a young child that's just fallen asleep. And-for the moment-it seems as if nothing else needs to be said. It's in this quiet moment that I finally decide that now is the right time to show him what I'd found on my way home.

“Speaking of strange-” I begin in a calm tone. “I found something today that I think you'll like.”

My cousin's expression is curious. And with that, I get up from my place on his bed and go the small distance down the narrow hall, towards the kitchen. Grabbing the item off of the kitchen counter where I'd left it, I make the quick trip back to my cousin's room. He looks at me, waiting expectantly from where he sits, cross-legged on the bed. Entering the room again, I hand him the item I'd purchased for him from the bookstore.

“The angel's voice whispered in my ear today-” I say, watching him carefully inspect and scrutinize this gift as I speak. “and it told me to stop at the bookstore on the way here. I didn't understand at first.” I admit to him. “But when I found this book, I knew why.” His gaze lifts from the thick book to look up at me with an inquisitive expression, though he doesn't say anything. “It's not the one I read in high school.” I tell him. “But I looked at the summary before purchasing it, and I think you'll like it.”

My cousin grasps the book tenderly to his chest, like a cherished treasure. And I can tell by the look on his face that I've done the right thing in listening to the voice today. I should listen to it more often, I know. Before I turn away to take my leave, I see my cousin close up his textbook and place it to the side in favor of beginning the thick book now in his hands. Despite the bandages covering part of his face, and his unemotional affect, I can tell that my cousin is pleased. Grateful. Excited even, as he opens the book and begins to read it right away.

A novel written by his namesake.

Titled 'No Longer Human'.

Chapter Text

April 14^th

He doesn't want to be here. It's not that he isn't grateful. He is. He just really, really doesn't want to be here. Because the longer he stands here, the more he realizes just how empty he is. He waits to feel something. Anything at all.

And yet-

Nothing.

He's still waiting. And he begins to wonder what it means, exactly. Because he is painfully aware he should feel at least something. The person he loves most-the only one able to truly understand him- is dead, and nowhere to be found in this world. And it occurs to him that he doesn't know what kind of face he should be making right now. A gentle hand placed on his shoulder draws his attention. But his gaze still remains forward, staring directly in front of him.

“It's beautiful.” The sound of his cousin's voice causes Osamu to slightly nod his head in silent agreement.

It has taken weeks to complete the task, but the funeral home has done a fine job in their efforts. His mother's gravestone is simple, yes. But his cousin is right. It truly is...beautiful. Yet he still finds that he doesn't want to be here. Not even to appreciate this lovely monument to his mother's memory.

The wind rustles through the trees, and through his hair. And he presses his lips together.

“Do you think she likes it?” He finds himself numbly asking his cousin this question.

...he doesn't know why...

But his cousin gives him an answer, regardless.

“I do.”

He nods. And more silence follows as he senses his cousin move away from his side in order to place down the flowers they've brought with them. When they're standing together again, side-by-side, he asks another question.

“Ne, Odasaku. The last time I was here-” He slowly begins, as another light breeze carries his words along the wind. “for the service-” His voice is a quiet whisper as he elaborates. “the funeral officiant came over to me, and said something to me that I've been thinking about for a while.” He presses his lips together with the brief pause of his words as he recalls this memory, and what the man had said. “He told me that, when someone's parent passes away, they will cry.” His gaze comes intently fixated on his mother's gravestone. “Do you believe that..?”

“I suppose so.” He hears this even reply. “It seems to make sense to me.” Then feels his shoulders imperceptibly slump with the audible exhale that escapes him.

“...right...” This comes grumbled past his lips as his head hangs just the slightest.

“Dazai..?” His cousin's voice sounds concerned, but he doesn't say anything else, so Osamu keeps talking instead.

“When the doctor came into my hospital room-just after the accident-” His voice is a featherlight whisper. “and told me that she was gone, I didn't cry.” He says. “And I didn't cry at the funeral, either.” He doesn't look at his cousin when he admits this. “So-” Another pause. “if he wasn't lying...” His lips tremble along his next empty, hollow words. “Then what's wrong with me, Odasaku..?”

He can't cry over the death of his mother like he's supposed to, so there has to be something fundamentally wrong with him. Some flaw in his code. Is it because he's incapable? Is he so completely defective as a human being that something as innate as crying over the loss of a loved one eludes him? His cousin doesn't immediately answer this question. In fact, for the longest time, there's nothing but silence. But when it becomes almost unbearable, and he's about to say something, his cousin finally decides to speak.

“People like to say ‘grief is not linear’.” His cousin begins, and Osamu huffs a faint sigh.

“Well of course it's not.” He mumbles, this fact seeming obvious, and his cousin nods.

“I agree.” The man pauses a moment before continuing. “Saying that makes it sound like grief is something you can chart with a neat line that goes up and down. Right?” He says, and Osamu nods a little. “But it's not.” Osamu intently listens to his cousin, not saying a word. “I think grief is more like the sea tide moving from ebb to flood. It will reach out, only to go back until another wave tries again and gets a little further. A continuous push and pull.” As his cousin explains this, Osamu feels his lips draw into a thin line as he continues to stare ahead of him at the gravestone. “Not every wave makes it past the last one.” His cousin tells him. “But slowly and surely, the water gets closer and closer, even if that is not immediately visible.  And I think it's the same way with grief, when touching the human heart.” When there's a lull in his cousin's words, Osamu's gaze flits from his mother's headstone towards his cousin's face.

The two look at each other a moment. As they intently regard each other, his cousin seems to ponder his next words before he continues with what he's going to say next.

“Listen, Dazai.” His cousin's voice comes a hushed murmur. “There's nothing wrong with you.” The man looks intently at him when he says this, and Osamu gives a faint nod that he understands the importance of these words. “Grief is different for everyone.” He tells him with that same pointed look. “Your feelings are your own, Dazai. And there's no right or wrong way to express them.” He feels his cousin place another gentle hand to his shoulder as they continue to regard each other. “Those feelings will come to you in their own time-like the ocean tide-when they're supposed to.” His cousin's expression is calm and composed as he speaks. “And when they do? I think you'll know what to do with them.” Osamu nods slowly, just the once, while silently contemplating over his cousin's words before they both turn their attention back to the new gravestone.

...it really is quite beautiful...

Chapter Text

'The biggest misfortune for Dazai's enemies-is that they are Dazai's enemies.'

-Oda, Sakunosuke

The Dark Era

April 29^th

I enter the apartment, long past due my normal time to be home. Work has kept me late. Again. Yet my mind today has been anywhere but at work. It has been on the serious conversation I need to have with Dazai. Slipping off my shoes, I make my way through the small space. I stop by the open bedroom, only to find it empty. Strange, considering I can tell that my cousin is home. Wandering down the hall, I pass the bathroom only to pause, and take a back-step. And then, a quick double-take.

This door, too, is open.

Yet, unlike my cousin's bedroom, it's not empty.

I pause at the doorway. The light isn't on. But there's enough natural light coming from the small bathroom window that I can see clearly. And for a moment, I say nothing. Absolutely nothing. I press my lips together, and stand there, merely absorbing the rather peculiar sight in front of me in silence. After my initial bout of genuine surprise passes, I finally step into the bathroom. I take a seat on the makeshift chair that is the toilet, hunched over as I brace myself with my arms along my thighs. And I stare at the ground in front of me.

This stifling silence extends for a minute. And then another. And another, as I mull over and reconsider exactly how to begin the conversation I thought I was going to have.

“You're not in your room.” I speak in a quiet voice while studying the tile of our bathroom floor.

“No...” My cousin's voice manifests and faintly echoes in an empty monotone from the side of me. “I'm not.”

My lips thin into a taut line as my brows knit together. And I realize that I can't do this. I scrub my face with my hands. Then my hand makes its way into my pocket. Before I know it, I'm taking the pack of cigarettes and placing one between my lips. I pause before lighting it, though, as it occurs to me that I really shouldn't be smoking in front of a minor. I glance over towards my cousin- who is currently in the bathtub. His long, lanky body is fully submerged, and fully clothed, save for his shoes. I don't ask him why. He stares at me for a fleeting moment, and seems to immediately read my mind.

“It's fine.” Is all he says with a dismissive wave of the hand that momentarily comes raised out of the water.

And the noise created by this slow movement briefly mimics the calm, soothing sound of a small water-fountain as it echoes off the bathroom tile.

Gaining his permission shouldn't be the deciding factor in my decision to have a cigarette. But it is. So I quickly stand up from my seat in order to reach over the tub and open the bathroom window while feeling my cousin's eyes on me. Then I sit back down. And I have my cigarette. My cousin has never seen me smoke. I started after getting the job at the shipping company down at the port. And I'm careful not to smoke around him with our current living situation. But it doesn't seem to really surprise him that I do.

I wonder why that is...

I know it's a bad habit that, oddly, I find I don't want him to pick up himself. I wonder if this makes me a bit of a hypocrite, but I don't spend much time dwelling on this thought. I take a quick drag of the cigarette between my lips, eyes forward, before holding it poised between my fingers as I reclaim my hunched position.

“So-” I sigh through the veil of smoke that crawls past my lips while the rest comes pushed through my nose. “I got a call from your school today while I was at work.” When he doesn't answer, I keep going. “Care to tell me what happened?”

More silence.

“They didn't already tell you?” He asks, but his tone is sardonic.

“They did.” I tell him after taking another drag of the cigarette between my fingers. “But I'd like to hear your side of the story.” I say, and I'm genuinely curious to hear what he has to say about the situation. “So..?” I gently encourage when he doesn't immediately offer to speak to me.

“So I got into a fight at school today.” I hear him say from his place in the bathtub, confirming what the school has already told me.

Growing up, I remember my cousin was never really one to engage all that much in social interactions with his classmates at school. Not that he was disliked. But he wasn't popular, either. Even though he probably could have been, if that's what he'd wanted back then. He'd never really shown interest in being around other children his own age. But he'd also never held any animosity towards them, either. And he'd certainly never gotten physical or violent with them. He never got into fights.

...this is new...

And it bothers me.

“...okay...” I slowly and calmly mumble through a puff of smoke. “With whom?” I ask.

“One of my classmates-” Dazai replies in an icy tone. “Nakahara, Chūya-kun.” He grumbles this name with obvious disdain for the young man it belongs to.

“And?” I coax him to continue.

“I started the fight.” His response is curt, and to the point-and also confirms what the school has already told me.

I take another drag of my cigarette. And I keep gently pressing in a lower voice.

“...and..?”

“And he finished it.”

I hang my head. And I take another slow, reflective drag of my dwindling cigarette. This buys me some time. Releasing another stream of smoke through my nostrils, I finally find the response I've been looking for.

“Well, that was your first mistake.” I tell him, and am not surprised when he says nothing, before I continue. “You never start a fight unless you're absolutely certain you can win.”

“...tell me something I don't know...” This comes bitterly stated from the bathtub, and I take a final drag of my spent cigarette.

“Judging by the way this situation played out for you-” I pause as I breathe through a thin wisp of a smokescreen before quickly pinching the end of my cigarette between my fingertips in order to safely discard it. “I think I just did.” This pithy comeback earns me a scathing look that I choose to ignore at I toss the end of my cigarette into the receptacle near the toilet-turned-makeshift chair.

I'm silent a moment before I ask my next question. One that the school didn't give me an answer to. One which only my cousin can.

“So-” I quietly begin. “what exactly is it about this other kid that you don't like?” I ask, and am a bit surprised when my cousin comes ready with his list of grievances.

“He's ugly.” Dazai states this rather bluntly, right off the bat, before continuing. “It's impossible to get away from him, because we have almost all of the same classes together.” He complains. “Everything he says and does is annoying. And he's a complete dick.”

“Says the person who started the fight.” I point this out, and earn myself another scowl from the bathtub.

“...very funny...”

I give a silent, passive shrug to his grousing, knowing that what I just said is the truth. He knows it, too. Which is probably why he's irritated with me now. But I'm relieved when this doesn't seem to stop him in telling me more about what went on at school today.

“...today's his birthday...” This comes an empty, hollow mumble. “And all day, today, people were celebrating and congratulating him in the classroom and hallways.” My brows furrow and knit together as I intently regard my cousin.

“Why does that bother you so much, Dazai?” I ask, because it's clear that it does.

For a split second, I see a myriad of strange emotions ripple along his face. And then-in the same fleeting moment-they're gone. All of them. Every single one. And he turns his face away from me to stare at the tile wall in front of him. He silently hunkers his body lower into the water. And he doesn't answer me. As I'm left to piece together this mystery in the wake of his stony silence towards me, I do my best to figure out what has him so bothered over this specific detail. That today is his classmate's birthday. Why is such a seemingly trivial detail about someone he doesn't even like so upsetting to him? I don't understand.

...and then...

In a flash, it suddenly comes to me. And when it does, my heart sinks into the bottom of my stomach. I can't believe that I've been so oblivious that it never even occurs to me until just now.

“I'm so sorry, Dazai.” I openly apologize to him. “I didn't realize what day it was, today-” My voice lowers with the heavy weight I feel. “and I should have.” If only I had been paying just a little more attention.

I would have known.

“...it's not right...” He mumbles from the tub, and I give him a second glance with the tilt of my head.

“Hm?”

“I said it's not right.” He repeats himself, his words coming more crisp in tone. “It's not right that slug shares the same birthday as her.” And I give myself over to an audible sigh that deflates me entirely.

Because I should have prepared myself for my cousin's response to this milestone of his new life. The first of his mother's birthdays after her passing. Of course today is going to be hard for him. And I am certain that the constant reminders didn't help him at all. But then...

“It's not his fault, you know...”

I don't know why I feel the need to point this out to him. But I do. And in response, he turns to me with the most expressive look I have seen from him since he's been here.

“It's not fair, Odasaku!” He practically shouts at me with the crack of his voice, and I nod with calm composure.

My heart aches for him.

“You're right.” I agree with him without hesitation. “It's not fair.” I pause in consideration. “None of this is. And-” This parts my lips as I hold my breath a moment before offering a caveat. “it's still not his fault.”

My cousin opens his mouth as if he's about to yell at me again. But then quickly closes it shut instead. His jaw is tightly clenched. And his nostrils are flared just the slightest. But he still doesn't say anything. Maybe it's because he thinks I'm wrong, but doesn't want to say so. Or perhaps it's because he knows that I'm actually right, and has nothing to say.

And we sit like this, in silence, for more seconds than I can count. When it becomes clear to me that he's not going to say anything-whether he has something to say, or not-I finally look away.

“So-” I mumble quietly into the small bathroom space, pacing my words. “are you going to make a habit of this?” I ask.

“Of what?” He caustically snorts through his nose. “Getting into fights at school?” His voice is bitter. “Or hanging out in the bathtub?” The pointed search for clarification is caustic, and just a bit rude.

...but...

Since he's asking.

“Both.” I flatly deadpan.

“I don't know...” He grumbles through a puffed sigh, and for the first time I notice how genuinely exhausted and worn out he looks. “I might.”

And-in time-it comes to pass that this prediction becomes true.

On the difficult days, I find Dazai in his room, with the door closed.

And on the really difficult days..?

I find him in the bathtub.

Chapter Text

“As long as I can make them laugh, it doesn’t matter how, I’ll be alright. If I succeed in that, the human beings probably won’t mind it too much if I remain outside their lives. The one thing I must avoid is becoming offensive in their eyes: I shall be nothing, the wind, the sky.”

-Osamu Dazai, “No Longer Human”

May 6^th

He hates this. He repeats this to himself in his mind with every single labored trudge he takes. He. Hates. This. This constant spotlight without any reprieve. Everyone always looking at him. But no one actually talks to him. And their constant looks and glances creates a continuous pressure that's building up inside of him. Like a teapot slowly rolling to a boil on the stove-top. But here, there's no release valve. Because everyone is staring, but nothing else. And he wants to scream at them from the top of his lungs. Just to get some relief.

It's clear that he can't just shrink away and disappear completely. Not like he wants to. Not that he hasn't tried. He really has. It just doesn't work. Besides, it's far too late for something like that now.

And if they won't stop..? Then maybe he should cause a scene.

...it's not like that hasn't already happened...

As he continues to fume-and these thoughts continue to swirl around him like a dark cloud over his head-he finally settles on navigating his way through the halls, towards his locker, in silence. And all eyes follow him, just like this silence. He can feel it. And he hates it. Opening his locker, his view blocked by the door, he doesn't immediately see the person who's just stalked up to him without him knowing. Placing a few of his textbooks into his locker before going to lunch, he closes it back up.

And for a split second, he's genuinely taken aback by the face that greets him.

“I like that look on your face.”

...that voice...

“It rivals even a masterpiece worth ten billion.” These words are spoken through a cracked smile that's more of a sneer than anything else. “Wouldn't you agree, Dazai?”

His empty stomach twists, and churns at the sound of that voice. And he feels physically sick.

...gross...

He can't stand the fact that this person-the person he hates-has the audacity to address him in the same way that his cousin does. It makes him sick. And if this blatant disgust isn't clearly written on his face, it certainly comes through in the tone of his voice.

“... Chūya...” He practically gags on the name, it makes him so sick. “You know... Because of you, the school ended up calling my parents last week.” No way is he going to tell this slug that he lives with his cousin.

“Oh yeah?” Chūya openly scoffs with an utterly smug smirk blossoming along his full-almost pouting-lips. “So, what-did they beat you or somthin'?” He sounds almost gleefully hopeful over this.

It's sickening.

“And what if they did?” Osamu counters in challenge while scowling at his ugly face.

Then he watches as Chūya confidently leans himself against the lockers and folds his arms along his chest.

“Awe. Poor baby...” His voice is a little lower, and almost husky, as those strange blue eyes invasively flit along Osamu's body in a threatening manner before landing back on his face with that same infuriating smile. “Want me to pick up where they left off..?”

“Pass.” Osamu humorlessly deadpans as he quickly moves to side-step the other boy and gain some much needed space.

Not that it matters. A change in scenery is pointless when they're both headed in the same direction for lunch. And-just as he correctly predicts in his mind-when he moves, so does Chūya. In no time at all the two of them fall into step as they walk down the hall. It occurs to him for a brief moment as they're walking down the hall together that he is literally in hell. And that this red-headed boy has most likely been assigned to be his own, personal tormentor during his stay.

“You do know that I hate you, right..?” Osamu finally musters up the energy to mutter this question while keeping his pace and stride down the hall. “So why are you walking so close to me?”

“Question asked? Question answered.” He hears this snarky response from right next to him. “Besides, the second you made the mistake of picking a fight with me, I decided to make it my personal mission to make your life a living hell.”

So he is in hell.

...great...

“I just knew there was a reason today was gonna suck...” Osamu dramatically grumbles to himself.

“So what's with all those bandages, anyway?” This question makes him physically stop in his tracks, and it's then that his gaze locks with a pair of blue eyes again. “Is it some pathetic attempt to get attention?” He hears Chūya ask as they stand in the middle of the hallway. “Or are you hiding some sort of hideous injuries or somethin'?” Osamu blinks, then stares for a moment, and for a split second he actually forgets to breath.

...yes...

“No.” He quickly blurts out.

But that's exactly what he's hiding. And in his baffled confusion, he doesn't understand how someone as stupid as Chūya picks up on that. But Osamu can't let him know that he's right. He can't let him know. And, in his panic, Osamu begins to formulate his comeback.

“I made a pact with the Kodama.” Osamu states in an attempt to make his answer so ridiculously absurd that even his rival will have no choice but to abandon this topic of conversation.

To his surprise, it seems to be working. Chūya looks completely stupefied. So he keeps going with it.

“I gave them my soul, and in turn they imbued me with power to bring back the dead.” Osamu says with an unflinching stare and unnerving, blank expression. “And these bandages help keep my dark powers in check, and hold them at bay.”

Just as he's predicted, at first Chūya is too stunned to even respond to this explanation. The two of them just stand there, in the middle of the hallway, while people pass them by. And in the wake of this silence, Osamu thinks he's actually won. That is, until his rival opens their mouth.

“You're so weird. Seriously-” Chūya snorts through his nose with the swift, perplexed twitch of his head. “what is wrong with you?”

His mind registers this abrasive question from a distance, the words sounding disjointed.

The world around him slowly stops spinning.

And everything-everything-comes to a sudden pause.

I'm sick

Then he sees Chūya actually take a step back from him. And Osamu doesn't quite understand the look on the other boy's face. Not quite disgust. Not disdain, either. So then-

...what is it..?

“Geez, Dazai.” Chūya harshly spits this out. “You're such a freak.” And just before he turns to walk away, Osamu finally recognizes the look on Chūya's face.

Fear.

The expression on Chūya's face-for a brief moment-is one of fear.

And Osamu doesn't understand what's just happened.

...what did he do, to have received such a look from his rival..?

Watching the redhead walk away from him, down the hallway, Osamu hears another-unfamiliar-feminine voice from beside him.

“Are you okay..?”

Osamu blinks, then turns his head in the direction of the voice. And sure enough, it belongs to a young woman. Though, one he doesn't immediate recognize. Though he has no interest in making friends with his classmates, Osamu remembers most of the faces he's in class with. And this girl isn't in any of them. Staring at her with an empty expression, he begins to wonder if she's even in the same grade as he is.

Not a grade below, for sure. She looks too old for that. But... A grade above, perhaps. Or more. Maybe a fourth-year. Which begs the question of why she's even addressing him. Because no one talks to him.

No one.

“Hello..?” She calls to him again, coming a little closer. “I asked if you're okay.”

He registers this comment as he continues to stare at her in bewildered silence. He says nothing. And now he's absolutely certain that he doesn't recognize her. Short black hair cropped into a bob just above her shoulders. A skirt even shorter than that. It leaves little to the imagination with the long length of her pale crème legs. Skin almost as creamy white as the crisp button-up shirt of her school uniform. And her body..? Osamu has no doubt that her body is the envy of all the other girls in this school, and makes all of the guys here keenly aware that they're quickly growing into men.

...the only sense of innocence about her is the ornate butterfly clip in her dark ebony hair...

“...excuse me...” He feels himself finally form this response. “But why are you talking to me?” He asks her without really thinking it through.

The look on her face alone tells him that this question is stupid, and the answer is obvious.

“Because you just screamed in that other kid's face that you're fucking sick.”

...wait...

What?

...he doesn't remember doing that...

“...what..?” He feels his expression crumble a bit in confusion.

“Well are you?” She asks, looking a little concerned now as she eyes him.

Yes..?

No..?

...maybe...

It's quite possible.

“...I don't know...” He finally settles on this honest-yet-cryptic answer.

“Well, you've got some major issues if you're causing trouble with that guy.” She says, looking him up and down before her eyes land on his face once more. “Do you even know who that is?” Do you-He thinks, but manages to keep it to himself as she continues. “That's Nakahara, Chūya-kun.” The girl rattles off the name of his rival. “He's like, only the most notorious bully in this entire school. And he has that reputation for good reason.” Okay, so maybe she does know. “Even the fourth-years know not to mess with him.”

“...really...” Osamu deadpans, not at all impressed by this information.

He couldn't care less about that ugly slug.

“So what exactly is with you two, anyway?” She asks, and Osamu gives a small, passive shrug of his shoulders.

“I picked a fight with him last week.” His answer is blunt, and he swears that the girl's jaw hits the floor.

“Seriously?!” She balks. “I heard something about that.” She says. “So that was you?!” Osamu gives a little nod. “Is that why you're all wrapped up in bandages?” She asks, and Osamu fights openly rolling his eyes at her.

Not this again...

“No.” His tone is more harsh and snappy than it should be, and he knows it, but he leaves it at this as the girl's expression displays her obvious shock.

“What kind of stupid suicidal maniac are you?!” Osamu presses his lips together, and feels his gaze drift to his shoes.

He's never thought of himself like that.

But...

Maybe she's right.

...maybe he is...

“I figured I could win.” He mumbles to himself with a passive shrug, and his gaze quickly flits up from the floor when the girl in front of him begins to laugh.

“Did you seriously not know who you were getting into a fight with?” Osamu gives the faint twitch of his head.

No.

Not really.

“I'm new here.” The laughter suddenly stops.

“Oh.” She says with a slight look of chagrin on her beautiful face. “I didn't know that.” Osamu shrugs this off as if he's unbothered by her behavior towards him. “So you're the new transfer student everyone's been talking about?”

Right-Osamu sighs.

Talking about, but not to.

“I am Dazai.” He says, finally deciding to properly introduce himself to this girl. “Dazai, Osamu. Second-year.”

“Yosano, Akiko-” She introduces herself as well. “third-year.” Then she subtly gestures to another student that seems to be loitering around behind her, sticking close. “And this is Edogawa, Ranpo. Fourth-year.” Osamu is a little taken aback, because-up until just now-he hadn't even noticed this other student.

...weird...

The kid doesn't say anything to him. He doesn't even wave. With a lollipop stick jutting out from between his lips, this kid just stares at Osamu through an unnerving, squinted gaze that seems to see absolutely everything. Osamu doesn't like it. So he looks back to the girl, Akiko.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Osamu asks rather tactlessly-not that he's trying to hit on her-and she snorts a little, delicate laugh at this question.

“Ranpo?” She chuckles this name, and it sounds almost like a bell. “My boyfriend?” Her lips come pressed together as if there's something particularly amusing about this. “Try like the older brother I always needed in my life when I was growing up, but never had until now.” Osamu steals another quick glance at this kid, who's still staring at him.

“...oh...”

“But better late than never.” She glances over her shoulder to the older boy in question. “Isn't that right, Ranpo?” He nods to her, then quickly returns to staring at Osamu.

“Doesn't he say anything..?” Osamu asks, and hears Akiko chuckle again at another of his forward questions.

“Not to people he doesn't know.” She says.

“That's weird.” He blurts out in monotone before really thinking it through, which causes Akiko to openly laugh a little louder.

“Says the kid who sold his soul in order to made a deal with tree spirits.” She snorts at his expense, and this draws Osamu's gaze back to her as he regards her with a small frown.

“You heard me say that?”

...exactly how long have the two of them been standing there, watching him arguing with his rival..?

“Everyone heard you say that.” She deadpans, and Osamu's gaze hits the floor again with the imperceptible hang of his head.

...oh...

...right...

“Say-” Akiko's voice draws Osamu's gaze back up from the floor. “would you like to come have lunch with us today?” She asks, and Osamu shakes his head at this invitation.

“No thanks.” He grumbles. “My stomach's not feeling all that great right now.” Maybe he really is sick-but then, seeing Chūya's stupid, ugly face does that to him. “I think I'm just going to go to the courtyard and lay down in the grass for a while.” Akiko gives a little shrug of her shoulders.

“Suit yourself.” She says, not pressing the issue, and Osamu is grateful for that. “It was nice meeting you, Osamu-kun.”

“Akiko-san...” He gives a faint bow of the head and a little, halfhearted wave of farewell to her before watching her turn to make her way towards the school's cafeteria with her friend.

He watches the two of them walking together for a moment, perfectly in sync with each other, and it's hard not to imagine them as an item. It's obvious that they're incredibly close-attached to the hip, almost. When they finally disappear from his sight Osamu turns in the opposite direction-towards the courtyard-in order to disappear for a while and avoid the cafeteria, the other students, and his rival like the plague.

Chapter Text

May 17^th

It's late into the evening. I've already been home. I've checked in with-and then say my goodbyes to-my cousin, letting him know I'll be out for a few hours. Dazai, of course, seems fine with this. I suspect, in fact, that sometimes he prefers the solitude of being alone with himself for a while just as much as I do. We're alike in that way, I think. Though I still don't know if that's for better-or worse.  I know that solitude is often unkind to those plagued by dark thoughts.  But I quickly brush this aside.

No matter.

Such thoughts and concerns aren't worth dwelling on.

...are they..?

“So I see you've arrived before me, then.” The familiar-sounding voice calls to me from the stairway descending down into the depths of this little sanctuary.

Bar Lupin.

A small, nothing tavern founded in 1928. Tucked away in the basement of a larger business shop. In a lively area just outside of Yokahama, in Ginza, Tokyo. A space so small that it can't comfortably house more than four-maybe five-customers at a time. A single counter-top lined with old-fashioned bar stools. And the wall behind that lined with an eclectic assortment of liquor to choose from. No windows, so no natural light. And the lighting within the establishment is always kept at a low level, no matter the time-of-day.

Indeed, it seems as if time itself stops-or is entirely nonexistent-in this place.

Yet this establishment has a certain, intimate charm that appeals to me. A home away from home, of sorts. The atmosphere here is warm. Welcoming. And the bartender has a certain dark, caustic humor that turns away all but the most dedicated and steadfast patrons like myself.

Myself...

...and the man who has just entered this small establishment...

“How good of you to finally show up-” I lightly hum before touching the rim of my glass up to my lips. “Ango.” I say, quietly uttering this man's name.

Ango Sakaguchi.

Though-in truth-neither one of us ever make plans to meet up and drink together at this establishment. It just-happens. One of us comes here. And, inevitably, the other always shows up after-eventually. It's been like this for a little over a year, now. And I suppose-if one were to inquire about the two of us and our meetings at this bar-I would call this man my friend, though I don't have many.

“If you want to complain about my being late, Sakunosuke,” I hear the man begin a bit dryly, his voice drifting ever closer as he comes to claim the empty stool next to me. “then I suggest we switch job roles and you can spend the evening after work hours organizing and cataloging the inventory paperwork for all of our shipments for the week while I come to this bar and drink.” I faintly smile at this with the twitch of my head, knowing full well how the man detests being made to work overtime.

He complains about it often, even though it's part of his job requirement.

“I think I'll pass on your generous offer.” I make this passive reply, somewhat amused, before taking another sip of my whiskey.

Ango takes his seat next to me. And then he flags down the bartender to order his drink.

“A glass of your Merlot, Boss.” Ango casually addresses the barkeep, and-subsequently-also the owner of this small establishment.

“What's wrong, Hakase?” The man behind the bar gives an audible guffaw to this order.

He addresses Ango like this often-and with some amusement-as if Ango is some old, craggy professor teaching at University. And the bartender does so at Ango's expense and irritation, and not without cause. At eighteen, Ango Sakaguchi is nearly two years younger than myself. Though, seeing the two of us interacting together, it's difficult to believe this. He possesses a very composed, disciplined character. More disciplined than my own. I know this, because Ango reminds me of it often. That I am only growing older, and must be more disciplined in my character. And I suppose that's where the two of us have always differed quite radically.

Ango is a young man who-though highly disciplined-complains far too often to make a decent attempt at practicing stoicism.

While I, on the other hand, he accuses of being 'a commendable stoic, woefully lacking in a necessary amount of discipline'.

Ango's demeanor, however, isn't the only thing to give him such a professorial, somewhat academic air about him. It's in his appearance as well. He is a tall man who carries himself like a noble aristocrat, or some haughty banker or accountant. With short, dark hair and lightly-colored eyes behind large, circular framed glasses. And his normal attire usually consists of a pale brown double-breasted coat which is buttoned to the left, covering a tab collared shirt with a kobicha brown tie. His pants are often the same color as his coat, to match, with his shoes being roughly the same color as his tie.

Yet his most notable physical feature is a mole just above his lip, on the left side of his face that gives him an even more delicate, lordly look about him.

And this, all of it, is why the bartender insists on teasing Ango so by calling him Hakase. Even as a young man, Ango fits the description perfectly.

“Rough day pushing papers at the office, eh?” The bartender pipes up again with a sly grin, noticing how Ango isn't asking for his usual order of simple tomato juice.

“What's this?” I'm intrigued by this change as well, to be honest. “Didn't you drive here?” I ask curiously, as Ango usually drives himself around, and is normally quite prudent in the matter.

“I took a cab.” Ango hastily answers my question-seeming slightly agitated, and wanting the barkeep to bring his order quickly. “What's it to you?” He grouses at me before laying into the barkeep. “And you!” Ango harshly snaps at the man, though his tone and demeanor still manage to retain that same measure of refined dignity. “I should think a man giving you his money ought to be able to drink in peace, no?” Clearly Ango is in no mood for the man's goodnatured harassment this evening.

In fact, he's usually much more disciplined than this. Calmer, and more in control of his emotions. Yet the man serving him his drink doesn't seem bothered by my companion's uncharacteristic irritability. On the contrary. The man simply smiles while bringing Ango his glass of wine, seeming entertained by the scolding he's just gotten.

“Oh-fine, fine.” The old bartender tuts with that smile and a gleam in his eye. “Just like you youngsters,” He begins to lament. “always paying me for my spirits,” He huffs. “and never my wit.”

“Your wit?!” Ango's brows knit together at this as he purses his lips together. “Your wit isn't worth the yen in my pocket!” He chases this retort down with a large sip of the Merlot from his glass.

The man's mouth gapes open in surprise, like a fish on dry land.

“Oi!” The bartender's attention suddenly falls on me. “What's with him, tonight?” I shrug my shoulders.

“I've no idea.” I reply in an even tone, taking Ango's strange behavior all in stride, before taking another sip of my own drink.

I consider the old man's question, pondering over it a moment as I take it to heart. The only one to know is Ango, himself. And there's nothing for it, except to ask him directly.

“What's got you so bothered tonight, Ango?” Though the bartender has asked the same exact question, with no response, Ango seems more than happy to complain to me.

“Someone came into my office this afternoon, while I was out on business,” Ango beings to explain in a sour tone. “and decided to play a little prank.” He says, pausing in his story to take another sip of his wine.

“What did they do?” I ask out of curiosity.

Or is it more out of instinct? I don't know. But I ask the question anyway.

“All of my files were intentionally placed out of order.” He says. “All of them!” Ango continues to complain to me as I nurse my whiskey and listen. “And then, on top of that, they decided to misplace all of the books in my office on our company's policies, procedures, and guidelines. So I had to go look for them.” Ango touches the rim of his glass to his lips again, taking another swift drink. “It took me all night to finish my work after having to reorganize my office.”

“Perhaps they did that because you insist on lording these rules over the rest of us.” I point this out to him without malice or intent to anger him further.

It's simply the truth of the matter.

Ango Sakaguchi began his career at the port shipping company we both currently work for as a lowly office worker. A clerk. I learned later from him personally that this had been so, only because he was too young at the time to legally operate any of the heavy equipment in the shipping bay. But Ango has made this play to his advantage. He's good at what he does. Very good. And so-in no time at all, despite his young age-he's managed to move up into a position of power and influence within the company. This doesn't bother me at all.

But then...

I'm the exception.

Everyone else dislikes or outright despises the young man, due to Ango's position. Not necessarily without cause, as he sees it as his duty to enforce the company's policies, as well as the consequences if they are not properly followed. As a result, many of the other dock workers have taken up to anonymously harassing him. Innocent pranks, like the one they'd obviously played on him this afternoon. None-the-less, this still irritates Ango, as most of these practical jokes inevitably cause him to stay after hours doing extra work he deems unnecessary.

Like needing to put his office back in order.

Even though we both know-deep down-that he brings most of this misery upon himself, I still have some compassion for Ango.

“You know-” I slowly drawl in consideration of this latest prank played at the other man's expense. “I could ask around, and probably find out who it was.” I offer in a calm, passive hum.

“Oh, I already know who it was.” Ango retorts in a sour tone. “And believe me, if they keep this up-” He begins in a menacing manner. “well-” He snorts, taking another sip of wine before placing the glass back on the counter-top. “lets just say that I have my ways of making their life a complete nightmare.”

Taking stalk of the man's expression through the view of his profile, I have no doubt that Ango is being completely serious in his open threat. Not only that. Due to the man's disciplined nature and the importance he places on rules and regulations, I imagine Ango can do exactly as he's just said without drawing the least bit of suspicion to himself.

I consider this a moment as I finish off what's left of my drink in a single swallow.

Perhaps I'll find out who is pestering Ango after all, despite him declining my offer to do so, just to warn whoever it is and persuade them to stop their antics before it's too late for them. Flagging down the bartender, who has been listening to our conversation this whole time, I ask for my second-and final-drink of the evening.

“And what about you?” I hear Ango ask as my glass is brought to me.

“What do you mean?” I ask, turning my head towards him as he looks at me.

“I've stopped in here after work a few times-” Ango begins. “And I haven't seen you for the past two months.” He says, eyeing me with the little quirk of his brow from behind his large glasses.

I look away.

“I've been busy.” I answer his suspicion in a plain, calm tone.

“With your cousin,” Ango expands on my simple response with a softer, empathetic voice. “I know.” He hums, taking another sip of wine before asking. “Shūji, right?” I give a small nod-not bothering to correct him because he's not exactly wrong. “So how's he doing?”

I purse my lips towards this question. Because I haven't spoken much about my cousin, Dazai. Not really. Not with those I work with. Regardless of that, due to our differing positions, Ango and I rarely talk at work anyway. And all of our conversations at Bar Lupin are on such trivial, unimportant matters. It's something unspoken. The two of us just never talk about personal matters. Mostly, I just listen to Ango go on about his woes. Sometimes, if I've caught him in a good mood, he excitedly shares with me some of the antiques he's acquired while away on business. Something I have discovered is a bit of a hobby of his.

When the hospital first called me about the accident, and arrangements were made for my cousin to live with me, I had needed to inform my company of this change. So it doesn't surprise me that Ango knows about this. However, it is unusual that he's asked about Dazai.

Unusual...

But-I find-not entirely unwelcome.

“He's been dealt such a heavy blow.” I mumble to the glass in front of me, somewhat touched by Ango's sudden interest. “And he's struggling a little with adjusting to his new school.” I admit.

“Struggling?” Ango asks through a furrowed expression. “Struggling how?” I take a sip of my fresh drink before answering him.

“I was called by the school when he got into a fight.” I say, not looking at the man sitting next to me. “And he tells me that he's not getting along with his teachers.” I offer a dismissive shrug of my shoulders as I continue. “But overall, nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too bad..?” Ango echoes my words back to me, sounding genuinely concerned now. “Fighting at school is a serious matter, Sakunosuke.” Tell me something I don't know-my cousin's bitter words float through my mind at I take another stiff swallow of whiskey.

“I know.” I finally admit after a sobering moment of silence.

“Well?” He asks through a tone that sounds almost scolding: though I don't know if it's towards my cousin, or myself. “And what did you do about it?”

“Nothing.” I answer him honestly. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You really ought to do something about this, Sakunosuke. Before it gets worse.” He tells me. “You need to be more firm with him, to keep him from acting out like that.”

How?!-I silently think in my mind. Though Ango may be right, his advice-while good in theory-feels nearly impossible to implement. How should I go about punishing and reprimanding Dazai for his behavior at school when he's just gone through something I can't even begin to fathom how it's effecting him. What exactly should I do to correct him when he's lost everything he's ever known? How should I discipline my cousin, when I'm not the boy's father?

I doubt even Ango has the answer to that.

It would be nice if he did...

“I'm sorry-” I hear Ango suddenly say, possibly due to the fact that I have been quiet for so long. “I shouldn't have interjected like that, I know.” I sigh through my nose and give the faint twitch of my head to this apology.

“No,” I quietly murmur with the slight hang of my head, my eyes still to the counter top. “you're right, Ango.” I reassure him.

Just because I don't currently have a clear plan of action on how to deal with my cousin's behaviors, doesn't mean that I don't share Ango's sentiment of concern. Because the truth is that Dazai's behaviors are concerning. And in that regard, I find that the tactless nature of Ango's comments is hardly worth apologizing for. Not when he makes a valid point. So I raise my glass to Ango and his valid point. In turn, Ango offers me the subtle quirk of a single brow behind those large glasses.

“And what exactly are we toasting, tonight?” He asks me.

“How about we toast to the weekend?” I suggest, and Ango raises his wine glass to that.

“To the weekend.” He agrees without complaint as the sharp clink of our glasses resonates through the small space.

Chapter Text

May 28^th

“You'll need to take off your shirt for this exam.” The doctor's voice calls to him, but it sounds-strange.

Muffled.

And distant.

Osamu presses his lips into a thin line as his brows pinch together. It's not that he's particularly shy about his body. He’s not. In fact, most of the time-unless he's in pain or some sort of physical discomfort-he doesn't really give it much consideration one way or the other. But that doesn't mean he actually wants to comply, and take his shirt off.

...he doesn't...

“And you'll need to remove your bandages, as well.”

He takes a sharp breath in, and holds it for a brief moment before exhaling along his cousin’s name.

“...Odasaku..?” Osamu hears himself quietly whisper in a small voice in response from where he sits on the examination table, facing the doctor.

“It'll be okay, Dazai.” His cousin softly mumbles in a calming, even tone from the corner of the examination room where Osamu can't see him. “Would it help if I step out?” Osamu vigorously shakes his head without saying a word.

No.

No, he does not want his cousin to leave the room.

The doctor turns to the side, facing away from him, and begins to flip through the medical chart-Osamu's medical chart-as Osamu reluctantly slips off his shirt in silence. The examination room is cold. And Osamu immediately feels his exposed skin tighten around him in response to the chill. It's excruciating. But the doctor doesn't seem to notice Osamu's discomfort. Far from it, as his attention remains focused and absorbed in the file he's reading.

“From the notes my nurse has taken, it seems like your heart-rate and blood-pressure are both well within normal-” He states in a flat, clinical tone without looking up. “but I see here, from your chart, that you seem a bit underweight for your height.” This comment is followed by a pointed look when the doctor finally raises his eyes from the file. “Are you eating enough of the proper foods?” The doctor asks him.

“I don't know.” Osamu gives a little, passive shrug of his bare shoulders. “...I guess...” Is all he mumbles to the doctor in way of response, and hears an audible, judgmental sigh from the corner where his cousin is.

Osamu frowns. This isn't exactly a lie, though. Not really. Because he does eat-when he's hungry. Though, lately, he's hardly ever hungry. Thankfully his cousin hasn't been too hard on him about this. Because it's not that big of a deal... Right..? But perhaps this appointment will change that. Osamu hopes that it won't.

“Your most recent x-rays show that the fracture to your right clavicle has healed quite nicely.” The doctor moves forward with the exam as his eyes flit back down to the chart in his hands. “...one of the perks of being young, I suppose...” Osamu hears him mutter under his breath before speaking a bit more clearly. “Now let’s just take a look underneath those bandages, shall we?” Osamu shrinks into himself as he feels his shoulders hunch up to his ears.

When the bandages are carefully removed, no matter how much he's grown to hate them, it feels like a layer of his own skin has just been peeled off. It somehow hurts-physically-when the doctor takes them off to examine and inspect the progress of his healing. It's the pain that he notices first. Followed by the most intense sensation of raw irritation and itchiness that he's ever felt.

And then...

Quite suddenly.

He notices just how naked and vulnerable he feels without them. Exposed, and completely defenseless.

It's not as if he hasn't removed these bandages himself before, when they've become dirtied or soiled. But he's always managed to avoid actually looking at the extent of the damage to the skin underneath the bandages. But in the harsh, abrasive florescent lights of the doctor's office-at his first appointment following the accident-it's nearly impossible not to see.

“Good...” The doctor's voice trails along the cold touch of his fingers as they brush along the scars of Osamu's arms. “Very good.” He says again. “These are healing very nicely.” And for a split second, Osamu feels angry about the praise this doctor lavishes over the condition of his mutilated flesh.

It makes him physically sick.

As the doctor continues his examination, his cold fingers come to gently grasp Osamu's chin as he carefully guides Osamu's head from side-to-side. He lets go, then. Osamu's thick, dark lashes flutter in response when he hears something faint and muffled to the right of him. But then he slightly turns his head towards an abrasive snap right next to the left of his head. The doctor frowns as if he's displeased or concerned over something, but continues his thorough exam without expressing it.

“I want you to look straight ahead, at my face, and tell me when you can see my finger.” He instructs, and Osamu does as the doctor says.

Osamu intently holds the man's gaze. And within a second, he catches something from the left side of his peripheral.

“There...” He quietly lets the doctor know. “I see it.” The doctor silently nods in approval.

“Good.”

Then the procedure is repeated. Knowing what to expect this time, Osamu sits very still. And he waits. And he waits.

...and he waits...

“I see it.” He finally tells the doctor when the man's finger comes into his line-of-sight, but the doctor frowns at him this time.

Osamu blinks. Then he blinks again. Is there something wrong with what he's just done..? Hasn't he done exactly what the doctor told him to..? He doesn't understand what he's done wrong. But clearly, something is wrong. Terribly wrong. And the doctor isn't saying anything, which only makes Osamu begin to believe the worst.

“From your chart, I understand that you were very recently in a car accident, yes?” Osamu nods his head with a vacant stare, still somewhat perplexed, but doesn't answer with words.

“Almost three months ago.” Osamu's cousin supplies this information to the doctor, who glances up from the file.

“I see.”

There's a moment of silence in the room as the man glances between him, and the corner where his cousin is standing, back to him. Osamu is silent. He says nothing, because he doesn't know what to say. His tongue is all tied up. All of his words remain trapped inside the deepest recesses of his mind.

Osamu can't speak. He won't. Because-

...because...

...if he doesn't ever actually talk about what happened to him, it's not really real...

“Fractured clavicle, lacerations on the arms, chest, and face-” The doctor begins to read off the list of injuries written down in the chart as Osamu's gaze numbly drifts down to the tile floor. “a severe concussion resulting in a ruptured right eardrum, and traumatic iritis of the right eye.” The man's eyes flit up from the file, then, to look directly at Osamu. “The right side of your head must have been hit very hard in the accident.”

The hands in his lap begin to ball up into fists. And his muscles begin to twitch and tremble. His body is vibrating while his mind goes completely numb to everything. It's difficult to breathe. To think. And his body feels so tight. Too tight.

...it hurts...

And the doctor doesn't seem to notice.

“From my preliminary exam, it seems that there's still some hearing loss from the ruptured eardrum-” He continues on. “though it's likely that, in time, you'll regain most of your hearing in that ear. And everything else has healed almost perfectly.” There's a pregnant pause, and then the doctor speaks again. “But it's this eye that really concerns me.”

“How so?” The faint sound of his cousin's voice vaguely registers in some small part of Osamu's mind.

“Well-” The doctor begins to address his cousin directly. “it seems the trauma to that eye during the accident was so severe that it caused Orbital Compartment Syndrome.”

“What’s that, exactly?” Osamu’s cousin asks the doctor, and the two talk amongst themselves as if Osamu isn’t even there.

“It’s a condition when-due to blunt force trauma-pressure in the eye increases rapidly,” The Doctor begins to explain. “which can, and-in this case, has-led to permanent damage.” He says. “The peripheral vision on his right side is almost entirely nonexistent.” The doctor gives his cousin this grim news. “My initial assessment, without consulting a specialist, mind you-” There's another brief pause, as if what the doctor has to say next is even worse. “is that he probably only has about thirty percent vision in that eye. At most. And it's likely that the damage is permanent.” The finality of this diagnosis seems to suck the very air from the room.

“Are you certain..?” His cousin's voice sound's troubled, and Osamu doubts that he’s comforted much by the look on the doctor's face as the man gives the grim nod of the head.

“I'm sorry to be the one to give such a bleak prognosis.” The doctor tells his cousin before quickly turning his attention back to Osamu. “But-in all honesty-you're very lucky to be alive.” Their eyes meet and, once again, Osamu has absolutely nothing to say to the man.

...what is there to say..?

Everything feels so-final.

“You can put your shirt back on.” The doctor bluntly states after a moment of unsettling silence before turning away to go back to the medical file. “I'll update this chart, and make a referral to a vision specialist if you'd like.” Osamu doesn't respond, but hears his cousin reply on his behalf.

“Thank you, doctor.” When the doctor nods, and then turns to ready himself to leave the room, Osamu does as the man tells him, and quickly puts his shirt back on.

The sensation is strange: the feeling of his clothing against his bare skin-his chest, back, and arms-without the buffer of his bandages.

...he doesn't like it...

More than he doesn’t like the bandages.

The door to the examination room is closed, and silence follows the doctor's departure. Osamu carefully slips his body off of the examination table, and feels a bit unsteady on his feet when they touch the ground. His legs feel shaky. His muscles weak. But he's determined, and he slowly shuffles his way towards the small sink, and the even smaller mirror mounted on the wall just above that.

And who he sees in the mirror-staring back at him-is a complete stranger.

Osamu carefully brushes away some of the hair from his face. Then he gently brushes his fingers along the right side of his face as his eyes watch every move his reflection makes. And it's so strange-this sense of utter detachment he feels from his own body. Almost as if he's looking right at himself, but this person in the mirror isn't really him. Then Osamu catches the look on his cousin's face as the man comes to stand behind him, within his view.

When their eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, there's a strange little smile along his cousin's lips that causes Osamu to crinkle his brows.

“Odasaku..?” His voice is barely that of a whisper, but it's filled with the full weight of confusion that he feels towards this look before his cousin shakes his head.

“It's nothing.” His cousin assures him in that calm, even tone of his. “It's just-” He pauses for a moment before finishing his thoughts. “this is the first time I've seen you without the bandages.” He says.

For some odd reason, his cousin seems almost happy about this, when Osamu had been so certain that he would be anything but. Did seeing the awful truth behind the bandages really make him that pleased..? His dark eyes flit away from his cousin's gaze as Osamu stares at himself again.

“For a moment-” He hears his cousin continue to explain in a hushed tone filled with obvious fondness. “it was like I caught a glimpse of the old you.”

Hm...

...the old him...

But how..?

How can that even be possible, when the old him is dead?

“Ne, Odasaku..?” This comes to gently stir the silence as Osamu continues to avoid looking directly at his cousin through the mirror.

“Dazai?” Osamu presses his lips together at the sound of his name.

“Do you think that I'm lucky to be alive..?” He asks in a mumbled monotone, wondering to himself about what this doctor just said before leaving the room.

Somehow implying that it's by simple, random chance-blind luck-that he's alive when he really should be dead.

“Well-” His cousin sighs through his nose. “I don't exactly believe in something like luck. Not really.” He admits in a calm, soothing tone. “That just makes it seem as if this life-all of the good, and the bad-is purely up to chance, and nothing more. And I can't bring myself to believe that. However-” His voice turns pensive, and thoughtful as he speaks with consideration. “I do believe in the occurrence of happenings and events that defy explanation.” He said before giving the slight shrug of his shoulders. “What most others would pass off as a random act of pure luck, I'm more inclined to see as a miracle. An unexplainable act that happened for a reason that's bigger than our understanding.” His cousin pauses another moment, looking directly at him through the mirror before finishing the answer to Osamu's question. “I think that the fact you survived that car accident is miraculous, Dazai.” Osamu sighs through his nose at the same moment his gaze drops away from his own reflection.

...right...

A miracle...

The fact that-somehow-his being alive has value and meaning.

That his being here is more than a mere coincidence.

Then-

why can't he bring himself to feel the same way..?

Chapter Text

June 3^rd

The early-morning sunlight streams in through the small kitchen window. The house is silent as I sit at the table, enjoying my cup of coffee. I've come to discover that-while never out of his room before I'm up-my cousin often seems to be awake before I am. So I'm not worried at the moment-and I take another slow, languid sip of coffee from where I sit at the small kitchen table. A passive thought crosses my mind that I should probably search for a slightly larger one.

It's been nearly three months, now...

I ponder this for a moment, while sitting in the silence.

This quiet cohabitation with my cousin no longer leaves me feeling unsettled like it once did. Now that I've grown accustom to living with Dazai and his reserved presence, a certain tranquil peace has pleasantly settle back into my morning routine.

I find that I don't worrying about him as much as I used to.

I still don't know if anything I say really reaches him from where he's at, alone in his mind. But I notice how he seeks me out for interaction more frequently than he used to, when he first came to live here with me. And it feels easier to make conversation with him.

It's not perfect.

Nowhere near so.

But-

It's something.

And-given the hand we've been dealt-I suppose it's at least a place to begin our new life together.

I glance up from my thoughts in order to look up at the kitchen clock. Strange. Dazai is usually out here by now-ready to reluctantly leave for school with either myself, or on his own. It's almost time for the both of us to be out the door, and on our separate ways. The fact that I know he's awake, but haven't seen him yet, is-unusual.

Finishing off my cup of coffee, I set down my cup with the audible sigh that pushes through my nose. I don't want to have to badger him. And I really don't want to intrude on his privacy. But I also don't want him to fall into the habit of truancy and absenteeism. Or worse-for him to think I actually condone such delinquent behavior.

“...right, then...”

Easing myself up from the kitchen table, I go about in retrieving my cousin.

I make my way down the narrow hallway of the small-single bedroom-apartment I share with my cousin. As I pass by his bedroom I find the door open. Though the light is off, there's enough natural sunlight coming from the window to tell that this room is empty. Moving on, I quickly make my way to the next door down the hallway. The bathroom.

The door to this room is open as well. Yet, unlike the bedroom, this room is occupied.

I pause just outside the threshold of the bathroom for a moment. Just-watching. In silence. My cousin stands at the bathroom sink, staring into the mirror. And there's a certain sadness in this image, as I watch him scrutinize his reflection. It's almost as if he's trying to figure out exactly who the other person in the mirror really is.

That...

And today is the first day since his doctor's appointment that I've seen him without the bandages over the right side of his face-even though the doctor had told him that they were no longer necessary to wear before we'd left the appointment.

I'm happy that he's no longer wearing them as a buffer.

But-

Dazai, however, seems to be at odds with the decision as he continues to pick himself apart in the bathroom mirror.

“...Dazai..?” I quietly call to him, gaining his attention from where I stand in the doorway of the bathroom.

His brows pinch together in question as he gazes at me through the mirror with those inquisitive, large brown eyes. But he doesn't actually say anything, which leaves me feeling the need to fill this silence.

“It's almost time to go.”

Dazai breaks eye-contact with me. He frowns slightly as his gaze flits back to his reflection in the mirror. A hand goes up as he runs long, slender fingers through the thick mop of almost-black hair. It's then-with the sleeves of his school uniform rolled up-that I notice he's still wearing the bandages wrapped around his forearms. I look a little closer. His neck, too..? At this, a frown forms along my lips that matches his own.

“You know-” I hesitate a moment as I process how to say what I want before putting my thoughts into words. “the doctor said that you don't need to wear those anymore.” I give a subtle nod to his bandages as Dazai lets out a small, deflating huff in response.

“...I know...”

At first I fear that this is the end of the conversation. But then, I'm suddenly taken by surprise when he continues to talk to me in that same quiet, dower tone.

“I tried-” Dazai mumbles almost to himself as he avoids looking at me. “you know. Going without them.” He says, then gives a little shrug. “But my shirt felt weird on my skin. And it started to bother me.” A swell of pity floods my heart, and I give a slight nod of understanding.

So that's what he was taking his time with this morning...

Sadly, it hadn't occurred to me that he would feel physically uncomfortable going without them, but I suppose that it makes sense. I'm not exactly sure what to say in this instance. But I know I'm not going to tell him to take them off. Not if going without them makes things harder for him.

...things are already hard enough as it is...

So why add to them unnecessarily?

“If you want, I can take you to school today.” I offer this in hopes of easing some of this elusive tension he's obviously feeling.

I'm not entirely sure how to support Dazai in what he's going through. But I'm resolute in standing by his side, no matter what. My cousin doesn't say anything, but looks down to the sink for a moment before offering me a slight nod of the head in acceptance of my offer to take him to school. I nod as well, and turn to go get myself ready to leave the house for the day. Yet, just before leaving, I hear my cousin call to me from the bathroom.

“...Odasaku..?” I turn my head to see Dazai gazing at me intently through the mirror.

“Yes?” I go back to the bathroom, coming to face him with a questioning look in my eyes.

“What if-” Dazai hesitates, then begins again. “what if the people at my school start asking me questions, you know..? About-” He trails off, and I feel my brows knit together at this when he doesn't continue.

“About what happened to you?” I supply this elaboration of what he was about to say, and watch as his head hangs a little with a faint nod.

The crease of my brow deepens at this as I come to realize that Dazai hasn't ever actually talked about what's happened to him. About the accident. About almost dying. About the loss of his mother. Nothing. And I'd always thought it was simply because he knew that I already knew, and didn't feel the need to talk to me about it.

He hasn't said a word to me.

And-

I've never pressed the issue.

And now, as I look at him, I'm wondering if that was the right thing to do.

“Is that why you wanted to continue to wear the bandages over your eye last week, even after the appointment? Because you didn't want them asking questions?” I lightly ask, and watch as my cousin gives another little bob of the head, looking as if he's ashamed of this.

“I don't know what to tell them.” He mumbles.

“You can tell them whatever you'd like, Dazai.” I say with a little shrug of my shoulders, and Dazai looks at me with the crinkle of his brow in question.

“You mean, I could lie?” He asks me and, again, I shrug.

“It's up to you.”

A thought crosses my mind that it's probably not the best idea to suggest that he be dishonest. But I know it's not my place to tell him how to divulge such information about himself. Or that he even should. Dazai seems to ponder my answer for a moment, looking down with a pensive expression, before finally turning away from the bathroom mirror to face me.

“What if they find out I'm lying?” He asks me with an air of vulnerability in his voice. “Don't you think they'll be mad?”

I take this into consideration for a moment. It seems that there's at least some part of him that cares what others think of him. And it hits me just how young and impressionable he really is. I'm not entirely sure what's best to tell him, so I find myself settling on simply telling him the truth.

“I don't think they'll know any different.”

Dazai looks away from me with the purse of his lips and crease of his brows.

“Oh...” He quietly mumbles to himself. “Right.” It seems to only just occur to him that these people at his new school don't know him well enough yet in order to distinguish truth from lies.

That he can tell them quite literally anything he wants about himself, and they wont have any ground to dispute him over it. How can they? When they don't know anything about him, yet.

“Listen, Dazai-” I draw his attention as he glances back up at me with furrowed brows. “you're not obligated to tell them anything you don't want to tell them.” I say in a tone that's just a bit more firm in its determination. “You don't owe them anything.”

A wave of relief seems to visibly wash over him as I watch Dazai's shoulders relax with an exhaled sigh.

“Right.” Dazai replies with an averted gaze, though this time I see the small flicker of a little smile curve the corners of his lips.

He seems content with this answer of mine. And for my part, I'm happy to have helped relieve some of his anxiety over having to navigate such a sensitive topic. As he finally makes his way out of the bathroom, and we both head towards the entrance to put our shoes on and leave the apartment, I notice a new air of confidence about him. I know that I can't walk this road for him, but-at the very least-I can make sure to be there for him when he's ready to reach out to me like this.

And,

I suppose-

that's at least a place to start in moving forward in this new normal.

Chapter Text

June 3^rd

He takes a breath in through his nose, then slowly releases it from between his barely-parted, dry and chalked lips.

you're not obligated to tell them any thing

Another breath in.

Then out.

you can tell them whatever you'd like

His hand reaches out towards the large front doors to the school building. As he glances down, Osamu notices the slightest tremble. But it's not as if he's anxious, though.

…

Because he's not.

…

...he's not...

He feels his brows pinch together in slight frustration towards his body's confusing, involuntary reactions. The slight, unannounced tremble of his hands. The unexpected tightening of his chest. The sudden racing of his heart. The way his mouth goes dry without warning.

He doesn't know how to predict them-these innate reflexes. Or how to preemptively prevent them. All he does know, is that they hurt. And he hates it. He hates the way it makes him feel. Jerking his hand away from the door, he feels his arm fall limp as a rag at his side. It feels strange, though. Like an out-of-body experience.

Osamu scowls at the doors to the school as a more forceful, agitated sigh pushes through his nose, instead of past his dry lips.

you don't owe them anything

“...Right...” He quickly shakes his hand out, trying again and successfully pushing the door open this time.

The first thing he notices upon entering the school building is the almost blinding pain he feels from the unnatural, bright white of the florescent lights. He squints his eyes with a groan.

...he sensed that today was going to be a bad day...

Once his vision adjusts to the light, and he adapts to the weakened strength of his injured eye, the second thing that Osamu notices is the open stares of those he walks past on the way to his classroom. He's used to this, of course. The staring. But it's different, now. Definitely different. The glances he'd received before were fleeting. Quick. There-and-gone, in an instant. As if he were some social pariah, and they didn't want to get caught staring at him.

The looks he's getting now, though..?

They're longer. Much longer. It takes much longer for the other person to look away from him, even after he makes forced eye-contact with them.

It feels like being the new student on the first day of school all over again, and so much worse.

The morning drags on at an agonizing crawl.

And the pain in his head from the light-sensitivity only gets worse, to the point where he has his head on his desk-eyes closed-for most of the morning. Wishing he really was blind, instead of only partially so. He thinks he's going to be sick, and the idea of lunch-when it finally does roll around-doesn't make his stomach feel any better.

His head pounding, Osamu trudges to his locker preparing to discard some of his things and make his way out to the courtyard again in hopes of finding refuge in some fresh air and the shade of a tree. Distracted by the throbbing behind his eyes from the lights and the strain, Osamu doesn't immediately notice the presence standing next to him. Not until he closes his locker, and they finally speak.

“Hey, Osamu-kun!” This greeting takes him by surprise until he sees who it is.

“Oh-” Osamu manages a weak smile through the headache ravaging his brain. “hello, Akiko-san.” He gives the faint bob of the head-an instant mistake on his part-before glancing towards the person loitering next to the teenage girl he's only recently met. “Ranpo-san.” Osamu greets Akiko's stoic friend as well.

Just like their first encounter, the young man doesn't say anything. Instead, he just stares at Osamu through his glasses with a squinted gaze that seems to notice absolutely everything as he twirls the candy on a stick that's in his mouth. If his cousin thinks he's strange-Osamu silently muses-then he really ought to introduce him to this guy.

As long as Edogawa, Ranpo is around-Osamu thinks to himself as the other guy continues to just stare at him like he knows everything about him-then Osamu will never be the weirdest weirdo at this school.

And, well...

At least there's a level of solace in that.

“I see you finally got your arm out of that sling.” Akiko sounds happy for him, and the soft smile along her lips when Osamu's eyes flit back towards her face is proof of that.

Osamu nods, but doesn't say anything.

“And you got your bandages off as well!” The hand that suddenly manifests in front of his face causes Osamu to physically flinch away and take a half-step back.

Akiko frowns.

“Woah... Jumpy-much?”

And Osamu realizes that he's probably just overreacted.

“No.” He defensively snaps.

But why?

“I wasn't going to hit you, or anything like that...” He hears Akiko mumble with that same crease of concern along her brows.

“I know that.” Osamu quietly retorts with a faint, disgruntled scowl. “I'm not stupid, you know.” Akiko doesn't seem to believe him, but he's telling the truth.

He simply hadn't noticed that her hand had been that close to his face until it had been right in front of him. He'd just been startled for a moment, that's all. Just a moment. It's not a big deal. And he's fine, now. So why is she still looking at him so strangely? Like he's some sort of abuse victim.

...he's not...

And he doesn't need-or want-her pitying look.

Akiko purses her lips in such a way it seems like she's stifling a smile at his expense. Then she gives the elegant quirk of a single brow before raising her hand back up in a dramatically slow fashion, then pausing.

“May I?” She questions, and Osamu takes this to mean that she's asking him permission this time to 'look' with her hand before reaching out again.

Osamu stares, wide-eyed, before he slowly nods. Just once. Then he holds his breath as he feels the gentle touch of her fingertips as they carefully brush away some of the hair from his face. It feels so intimate. But not in the way he imagines it would feel, being touched by a pretty girl. It's-strange. It makes him feel strange. Because it almost feels like she's examining him with the brush of her fingertips as they ghost along the right side of his face. The side of his face that used to be bandaged-until today, that is.

He feels different.

He knows he looks different.

And people are looking at him differently, now.

He doesn't know what to do about it.

Osamu doesn't know what to do...

“Hey-”

...he doesn't know...

“is something wrong with your eye..?”

Osamu blinks. Then he releases the breath he's been holding onto this whole time as he feels his expression crumple up into a little scowl.

“No.” He lies before gently swatting Akiko's hand away from his face. “What are you, a doctor?”

He feels Akiko eye him with some suspicion before her expression changes again and she smiles at him.

“Not yet.” She says, the emphasis on 'yet' indicating her excitement and determination. “But I've already began studying, and plan on taking the medical entrance exams at the end of next year!”

Right...

She's way to happy and excited about this.

Her energy is-off putting.

And it just makes Osamu feel even more uncomfortable, and his head hurt even worse.

“Hey-” Akiko's voice lowers to a slight whisper as if she doesn't want to be overheard while she leans in a little closer.

The lowered volume is welcome.

The closeness of her proximity to him, however...

“did you and Nakara, Chūya-kun get into another fight?” She questions, which makes Osamu a little confused.

“No.” He answers honestly.

Because nothing's happened between the two of them today. Well, at least not yet. They still have half the school-day left. That’s plenty of time for things to change.

“Why?” Osamu asks with the slight crease of his brows to display his genuine confusion.

“Because he's staring right at you.” She whispers to him. “But don't look.” The warning comes too late, however, as Osamu glances over his shoulder to follow her gaze.

And sure enough, Akiko's right, and the ugly slug is looking right at him.

Ew.

Gross.

“I said don't look.” Osamu hears her hiss at him.

Yet, despite her slight panic, the moment abruptly ends and Chūya quickly looks away with a little scowl on his face as he stalks off in the opposite direction from where he'd just been standing in the hallway full of other people.

“With the way he was looking at you just now, he must really have it out for you.” Akiko mutters to him quietly and Osamu just shrugs it off, unconcerned.

His nemesis has already informed him that he intends to make his life a living hell. So what? Even so, Osamu has to admit that the look he's just received from Chūya is a bit-weird. In the fleeting moment that their eyes met from across the hall, it seems to Osamu as if he was more curious than angry. Strange. Not that Osamu even cares how Chūya feels.

As if.

Besides. Chūya was probably staring at him-just like everyone else-only because he's come to school today looking different.

“Hey, Yosano-senpai!” This comes hollered from down the hall, causing Akiko's head to turn as Osamu follows her gaze.

Down the hall, hurriedly coming in their direction, is not one, but two young men. Both tall and lean in their school uniforms, yet that's where the similarities between these two end. The one who has greeted Akiko so loudly is the young man with dark brown-almost black-hair, that's sleek and shiny, and fussily slicked over to the left of his forehead. And eyes sitting somewhere between caramel and yellowed honey-brown. The other young man trailing after him? His hair is a whole mess of lighter brown, frizzy curls that almost touch his shoulders.

As they continue their approach, Osamu realizes that he vaguely recognizes both of them.

Same grade.

Different class.

Oguri, Mushitarō and Seishi, Yokomizo. Second-year, Class D. Other than that? Osamu doesn't really know the two of them at all. Nor does he really care to. And judging by the look on Ranpo's face when Osamu manages to sneak a quick look at him looming behind Akiko, he doesn't seem to much care for them, either.

In fact, Ranpo seems to be staring at these two as if he thinks they're both idiots. Which, for some odd reason unbeknownst to him, makes Osamu endlessly amused.

“Mushitarō...” Akiko responds to this greeting in a tone that is as cold and tight-lipped as it is polite.

...huh...

Apparently she's not very fond of these two, either...

Or maybe it's just the more outspoken Mushitarō, because Akiko doesn't even seem to give his friend the time-of-day.

“Edogawa-senpai...” The other young man mumbles in respect, giving a quick bow before looking to Mushitarō with a nervous expression. “Come on Mushi-kun.” He gently nudges the other boy to get his attention away from Akiko. “We should really be going, now.” He says. “We're going to be late for lunch.” At this, Mushitarō merely waves off this concern.

“Don't worry about it, Yokomizo.” He says with the wave of his hand, ignoring his friend as his eyes still linger on Akiko. “We'll get there in plenty of time.” And then they drift to the side, as if seeing Osamu standing there for the first time.

Mushitarō's eyebrows raise into his hairline before darting between Osamu and Akiko, back to Osamu as a scowl creases and shapes his features.

“And who are you?!”

“Nobody.” Osamu quickly answers in a defensive tone with a similar scowl, not at all happy at being so rudely spoken to.

Who does this guy think he is, talking to him like this? He doesn't even know him. Why the immediate and overwhelming hostility?!

“Yosano-senpai!” Mushitarō's demeanor and expression are both determined as he looks Akiko right in the eye. “Is this guy your boyfriend?” This comes off so accusatory that for a spit second Osamu's mind goes blank, and stops working completely.

Wait...

What..?

Boyfriend?!

…

Oh.

…

...oh...

Suddenly it makes complete sense why Mushitarō holds such strong animosity towards him. He has come to the wrong conclusion that Osamu is Akiko's love-interest. And now, because of this misconception, Mushitarō sees him as a rival for her affection.

...great...

Honestly, Osamu's never considered himself one to care what people think of him, one-way-or-the-other. Yet, in the very same moment, Osamu finds that he doesn't necessarily want to see this rumor circulated around the school as truth. When he opens his mouth to correct Mushitarō, however, Osamu feels himself tugged by the sleeve of his shirt.

“And?” Akiko sharply questions, linking her arm with his own. “What if he is?” This immediately causes Osamu to blink in stunned surprise, and the confused expression on his face must make him look so stupid. “What business is it of yours, Mushitarō?”

He's so confused.

He knows that this isn't true.

And he knows that Akiko knows this as well.

Yet what he can't seem to grasp-right away, at least-is why she's leading Mushitarō on in this falsehood. Sure, he's come off as completely annoying. But it's clear that he's upset by all of this. And a part of him looks genuinely hurt. This makes Osamu feel strangely uncomfortable. Because he doesn't want to be used this way. So he doesn't exactly play along, and just stays silent as he feels Akiko standing so close to him.

The look on Mushitarō's face is utterly dismal.

“But why?” Mushitarō whines in dismay. “Why him?!” His eyes once again quickly dart from Akiko, to Osamu, back to Akiko in his desperation to understand.

Osamu finds himself almost feeling bad for him.

“He's nobody!”

Wow.

Okay...

Maybe not that bad.

“Mushi-kun, don't be so rude...” Mushitarō's friend, Yokomizo, discreetly whispers to him in a hushed tone, seeming somewhat embarrassed over Mushitarō's impolite behavior. “Let’s just go and get some lunch. Please?” He says, subtly tugging on the other's sleeve in order to coax Mushitarō towards the communal cafeteria.

Mushitarō reluctantly allows himself to be led away by his friend, head hung in dejection at having been so spectacularly rejected. Trudging down the hall with Yokomizo, Osamu watches in silence as the two begin to slowly make their way to the lunchroom before he hears the sound of Akiko holler after them.

“Hey, Mushitarō!” The young man glances over his shoulder at Akiko, and-despite having his love unrequited-he looks almost hopeful. “You know-” She begins. “it's not a coincidence...”

Mushitarō blinks, slowly stalling in his stride despite his friend's subtle insistence that they keep moving.

“Huh..?” His voice is a quiet mumble, though loud enough to be heard from the distance between them. “Not-” His brows pinch together. “a coincidence..? What do you mean by that?” Mushitarō asks as his eyes dart along Akiko's face. “What's not a coincidence?”

Akiko smiles.

Osamu can tell, because he can hear it in the tone of her voice.

“The fact that God gave you two eyes, and me two chopsticks.”

Mushitarō's expression pales as all of the blood drains from his face. Then it turns almost ashen gray with fear-induced nausea, and he wraps an arm around his abdomen.

“My stomach suddenly hurts.” Mushitarō whimpers out.

“...mine too...” His friend sympathetically grumbles beside him in agreement.

Mine, too-Osamu echoes in complete silence.

Though...

In Akiko's defense, Osamu's stomach had already been feeling queasy long before she'd made such a savage insinuation, due to his skull feeling two sizes too small for his brain. Turning towards the young woman in question, who'd let him go in the wake of Mushitarō's retreat, Osamu frowns towards her smug and seemingly-pleased expression.

“Why?” Is all he can manage, but it's enough to gain her attention.

“Why, what?” Akiko asks in earnest with the tilt of her head to Osamu.

“Why did you let Mushitarō-kun think that the two of us are dating?” He asks because, unless he’s completely missed something, they're not. “It clearly hurt his feelings.” He says, not exactly sure why he's standing up for the guy, and Akiko smirks in response.

“And?” She scoffs. “He deserved it.” Akiko's voice is adamant and firm in this belief. “He's completely annoying.” She says, and Osamu can't exactly bring himself to disagree.

Even so. Did Mushitarō really deserve to be humiliated and hurt like that?

“Besides-” Akiko's smile to him is far kinder and more sincere than the one she'd offered Mushitarō. “I didn't like how he was being so mean to you.” She says in a softer tone. “You didn't do anything to him. And you didn't have that coming.”

“...oh...”

Osamu feels his cheeks grow warm.

It's a little bit embarrassing, so he tries to ignore it as he looks away and to the ground. He hadn't realized that she was standing up for him. It feels-

...nice..?

Does it feel nice?

He's not sure. Not at the moment, anyway. Right now, at the moment, he actually feels like throwing up.

“Hey, Osamu-kun,” Akiko's voice draws his attention and gaze from the floor. “Want to eat lunch with us today?”

Osamu shakes his head, which turns out to be a huge mistake.

Maybe he would have ended up feeling better if he’d just kept his eye covered…

“No.” He mumbles, trying to keep the stomach bile down with an audible swallow. “I'm actually not feeling that well.” He admits. “I think I'm going to head to the school nurse.”

“Oh.” Akiko looks concerned. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” He doesn't shake his head this time, having learned his lesson the hard way. “I can make it there myself.” Akiko looks less than convinced that he can actually do this.

“Okay-” She mumbles, Ranpo remaining silent right behind her while they exchange pleasant farewells to each other. “I guess I'll see you later, then?”

“Yeah.” Osamu agrees. “Later.” Though he's not entirely sure when that will be.

“You know-” She begins before he turns to leave for the nurse. “I really am glad to see you out of those bandages.” Akiko's voice is so soft, and so sincere when she says this. “You're not bad-looking, Osamu-kun.” She tells him this with a little smile that wrinkles her nose. “I mean, that bird's nest on your head looks pretty hopeless-” She makes her way to turn and leave with her friend before looking at Osamu once more with that same kind smile. “but you have really pretty eyes.” In the wake of Akiko and Ranpo's departure to the lunchroom, this compliment comes completely unexpected.

Osamu blinks.

It's so unexpected that-for a second, as he watches them leave-he actually forgets how to breathe.

Chapter Text

June 11^th

I run through the building, down the hall, as fast as I can. My heart races even faster than that-as the voicemail that's been left on my cellphone plays on repeat through my mind. As his guardian, I've been contacted by the school before, of course, and placed on-notice about my cousin's behaviors. But this..?

...this is the first time I've been told that I need to come in person, immediately...

I can't help the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something very bad has just happened. And it doesn't help that the angel's voice has been relentlessly whispering in my ear the whole time as I make my way to the school.

Bursting through the doors of the main office, I startle the poor school secretary; an aging woman who's heart seems to jump right up through her throat when she sees me come in and approach her desk.

“Excuse me?!” She squeaks in surprise towards my somewhat flustered appearance.

“I'm here for one of your students.” I poorly announce myself. “Dazai, Osamu.” I quickly tell her, eager to see my cousin. “An urgent message was left on my phone.”

“And who are you in relation to the student?” She asks in a wary tone while suspiciously eyeing me from behind the desk.

“I'm his guardian.” I answer through a huffed breath of impatience. “Oda, Sakunosuke.” I give my name as my fingertips nervously tap along the desk.

“I'm going to need to see some identification, please.” She tells me, still seeming openly suspicious and unnerved by my sudden intrusion.

I hurriedly comply with the woman's demand as I take out my wallet from my pant's pocket and show her my driver's license. She takes it between her fingers-glancing from the card, to me, back to the card-before giving a stout nod of the head and sliding the card back to me. Then she offers me a curt thank-you before her fingers begin typing along the keyboard of the almost archaic-looking computer on her desk.

“It says here that the student you're referring to was taken to the nurse's office earlier this morning.” She tells me through an absent, distracted tone as she continues to stare at the computer screen.

“Was he hurt?” I try not to harshly demand through the growing frustration and worry I feel building up inside of me over the as-of-yet unknown condition of my cousin.

“I don't know.” She answers with the shake of her head without looking at me. “It doesn't say, here.”

“Where is the nurse's office?”

“I'm sorry, Oda-san.” The old woman avoids answering my question as her eyes finally meet mine. “But it looks as if the principal has requested to see you, first.” She says. “I'll let him know that you're here.” With that, the school's secretary spares me a look that silently demands me to step to the side as she makes a phone call to announce my arrival to the high school's principal.

The fact that I'm not allowed to see my cousin just yet only intensifies my worry as I wait to be seen. As I wait in the office-sitting in one of the stiff, uncomfortable plastic chairs offered-I check my phone for any further messages. Because there's nothing else to do in order to keep the worst-case-scenario thoughts at bay.

I heard a rumor that you ran out of work today

My brows knit together towards the text message Ango has sent me. And a sigh pushes through my nose. News of my sudden departure from the shipping port has spread more quickly than I'd expected if Ango has already heard about it in his department. I decide to text him back a simple response.

Not a rumor

It doesn't take long for Ango answer my brief message.

Everything okay?

Another audible sigh pushes through my nose. One that catches the attention of the aging woman sitting at the desk. I feel her eyes on me as I briefly glance up from my phone. She looks away, startled, leaving me to my devices once more. I look at Ango's message again, contemplating how I should answer before my thumbs dance along the screen of my phone. I give him an honest reply.

I don't know

Then I send another, more informative message.

It's my cousin

I'm at his school, now

There's a longer pause after this message is sent. Though, I'm not surprised. Ango is still at work, after all, while I'm here at the school-waiting. Waiting to talk to the principal. Waiting to find out what has happened. Waiting to see my cousin. Waiting to see if he's okay.

I feel my heart skip a beat.

...I don't even know if Dazai is okay...

Okay

This message draws me out of spiraling completely. I take a shaky breath in. And then Ango sends me another text.

Fill me in later when we meet up at our usual spot?

I can't help but smile at the thoughtfulness of this invitation. I know Ango well enough to understand that he wouldn't have bothered wasting time asking to be looped in if he didn't genuinely care, and want to know.

“Oda-san-” The call of my name draws my eyes up from my phone, and towards the school's secretary. “the principal will see you now.” I nod as I stand up from my seat, then send Ango a simple two-word response.

Yeah

Later

Following the secretary behind the front desk and to a closed door, I watch as she taps her tiny fist against it. The door opens, and I am greeted by a distinguished looking middle-aged man appearing around in his mid fifties. With gray, swept-back hair, a mustache, and a short beard fastidiously waxed into a point. His eyes are a strange mix of brown and violet-like a Merlot-with a monocle over his right eye, secured by a gold chain.

“Hirotsu, Ryūrō.” The man introduces himself by extending his hand in an oddly western manner.

I take his hand briefly in greeting with a quick, shallow bow.

“You must be Oda, Sakunosuke.” I nod without a word. “Please. Come in.” He says while guiding me into his office to speak privately with him. “I appreciate you coming so quickly, on such short notice.” The man says as he closes the door behind us, then moves to take a seat at his desk.

“Of course.” I say as calmly as I can manage while finding a chair to sit in that faces him.

The principal leans forward slightly in his chair as our eyes meet, and for a brief moment nothing is said. But this moment quickly ends as I decide to speak again.

“When will I be able to see my cousin?” I finally ask the man, wanting to get straight to the point.

“You must be very concerned about him.” He says with a scrutinizing gaze that lingers along my face.

“I am.”

The man nods astutely.

“I've had my eye on him, and a few other students, recently.” He comments, as if sharing my concern before a faint-yet-wry smirk twitches along the corner of his lips. “He's a very interesting young man.”

“I suppose that's one way to describe him.” I say while holding the man's gaze.

“I called down to the nurse myself, just now.” He finally says in way of attempting to calm my obvious concern. “She informed me that he's resting comfortably, now.”

But this tactic doesn't work as he hopes.

“What happened?”

A heavy sigh pushes through the man's body as he considers this question while regarding me from behind his desk, hands steepled along his lips.

“I was told that, during Hirano-sensei's instruction this morning, Dazai-kun became-upset.” The man carefully answers.

“Upset?” I ask in a firm tone, brows furrowed in confusion over this vague response as the man simply nods.

“Upset enough that Hirano-sensei needed to stop his lesson and clear the other students from the classroom.”

“What?” Alarm enters my voice as I slightly lean forward in my chair without realizing. “Why?” I demand.

“Hirano-sensei was giving a lesson on driving safety.” Hirotsu calmly begins to explain, seeming unphased by my strong reaction. “This is a required course that promotes responsible citizenship in our students as they quickly approach adulthood.” I stay in my seat, listening intently as the pieces of this incident are placed together for me. “This lesson incorporated an educational, cautionary video detailing the fatal consequences of irresponsible driving.”

“Fatal consequences?” I echo in my confusion, feeling unsettled by what I'm hearing. “You mean to tell me that this teacher was showing the students a film on car crashes?”

The man nods.

And my heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach.

“Dazai-kun reacted very strongly to the video.” He continues, and I can only imagine the horror my cousin must have felt. “He began to scream.” Hirotsu gravely informs me. “And when Hirano-sensei attempted to calm him, he was entirely unresponsive, and only cried all the louder. He tried to have Dazai-kun remove himself from the room, and that was unsuccessful as well.” He says. “To the point where Hirano-sensei simply couldn't continue his lesson, and had to dismiss the other students, who were understandably upset by Dazai-kun's disruptive behavior.”

The more I hear, the more my concern and worry begin to turn towards anger.

“Hirano-sensei called the nurse, and stayed with him until she came.” He says. “She was authorized to administer a mild sedative.” My eyes widen at this as I feel my breath hitch in my throat. “When he was calm enough, Hirano-sensei and the nurse escorted him to the nurse's office in order to rest.”

“You-” I breathe, feeling my heart hammer in my chest. “you sedated him?”

“I imagine you must be feeling very upset over this.” He says consolingly. “I understand. But I assure you that the measures we took were necessary. Not only for the rest of our students-” He says with a faint pause before continuing. “but for Dazai-kun himself, as well.”

“You don't know how I feel.” I find myself almost coldly muttering to the man through a steely gaze. “And you don't know how he feels, either.”

“Then please-” There's another brief pause from the man before he meets my challenge with calm nonchalance and professionalism. “enlighten me.”

I find myself hunching over with the deflated sigh that pushes through my body.

“His mother was killed in a car accident.” I end up admitting with the hang of my head.

Staring at the ground, in this man's office, it occurs to me for the first time that I've never actually said these exact words out loud before. They stick in my throat, making it hard to breath. And once said, they leave such a bad taste in my mouth.

At first...I don't understand why...

Why I've never explicitly talked about this-with anyone, especially Dazai-until now.

Why I have such a strong reaction to giving such a simple-factual-statement.

Have I avoided talking about this incident out of fear of further upsetting my cousin? Because I don't know how to even begin such a conversation with those around me? Is my own disbelief over the sheer awfulness this tragedy really so overwhelming, that I can't even put it into words? All of these thoughts leave me with a sense of selfishness and shame.

Sitting in this office, knowing now what has happened, I feel as if I've done my cousin a disservice by not having informed the school of this tragic accident. Yet-when I glance up from the floor, and meet the principal's gaze-the expression along Hirotsu's face gives me pause. Because he looks at me with such open pity that I'm forced to quickly look away.

...that look...

It's that look, that I'm receiving right now, that I find I don't ever want my cousin to have to see for himself. He's already been through more pain than anyone should ever have to go through. And then to be reminded of that-every day-through wayward, pitying glances..? I realize now that-in some part-I want to be able to spare him at least some of this. From being seen differently through the eyes of others, and being pitied.

“When...?” This lightly-asked question draws me out of these thoughts as my eyes lift from the floor to meet the man's now-expectant gaze.

“In March.” I reply in a quiet voice. “Just before I enrolled him in your school.”

“I see-” The man sighs in response as his body almost deflates back into his seat. “well that certainly sheds some light on this morning's little incident.” He says before those eyes linger along my face with a pointed look. “Is there anything else that you think would be helpful for me to know moving forward?”

I think for a moment. Only for a moment.

And I know what I probably should tell him.

But-

I can't help but feel myself hesitate. Naturally so, as I feel protective of my cousin's privacy. Yet the man continues to look at me as if he already knows-or at the very least suspects-that there's something more to this tragic event. And he's not wrong. I feel my lips form into a thin line along the words that follow.

“He was in the car, with her-” I mumble under my breath. “when the accident happened.”

Silence follows, and I'm forced really feel the weight of these words. The full realization of what's happened. And the silence slowly begins to eat away at me until I hear the man ask his next careful question.

“How badly was he hurt..?”

I blink.

Then I take in a shaky breath.

“Very badly.” Is all I say in an empty, hollow voice.

“Any permanent damage?”

A frown tugs along the corners of my lips with the drop of my gaze to the floor. I give the twitch of my head, feeling my brows pinch together before giving my answer.

“The doctor believes so, yes.” I say before giving another twitch of the head without raising my eyes. “But I'm not sure if that's really set in, yet.”

It's just one more thing placed on the scale of his young life. One more burden-on top of so many others. And I don't even know where to begin in helping him navigate that: adapting to the likelihood of living with a potentially permanent physical disability, and all of the stigma that will no-doubt come from it when the people around him are made aware.

The world has been so very unkind to him. And people? I know that people-as a whole-can sometimes be so incredibly cruel to those of us who do not conform to society's standards. Human beings have the awful tenancy to ostracize and shun the weak, and the different. I suppose that nature itself does this-weeding out the useless and undesirable. But people..? People are particularly vicious in this endeavor.

And Dazai..?

Dazai himself has said that he's a strange individual. He's unusually perceptive of the world around him. Because of that, he has this belief that he doesn't quite belong. He knows that he's different, and treated differently for it. So the last thing I want to see happen is for him to become even further alienated from his peers because of what has happened to him.

Maybe I've deluded myself into thinking that my silence was a way of insulating him from that. I begin to fear that-because I have said nothing, until now-this lack of acknowledgment has directly resulted in this morning's emergency. In reality, I haven't sheltered him from anything. And-perhaps-I've even managed to make things worse.

The phone on the principal's desk rings, causing my eyes to flit up from the ground. The man answers, holding a very brief, one-sided conversation before placing the phone back down on the receiver. Our eyes meet as he spares me a pointed look before speaking.

“That was the school nurse.” He tells me. “She's just informed me that-though still a little groggy-Dazai-kun is awake now.” A pause fills the space for a moment before he continues without looking away from me. “I'll personally take you to see him now, if you'd like.”

“Yes.” I answer immediately. “Please.”

With that, I'm led out of this man's office, through the front desk, and out into the hall. Trailing behind the man in silence, passing one closed classroom door after the other, for a split-second I'm suddenly transported back into the past. Three, even four years ago. Where most of my previous life had been lived in a place such as this: built on a similar foundation, with its own unique experiences and memories. A life that seems so far behind me, now.

But this odd feeling of nostalgia is so short-lived. So fleeting, and ephemeral. And so easily waved away-like smoke-once we arrive at the nurse's office. Once again, I feel the weight of the world placed along my broad shoulders as my eyes immediately begin their search for my cousin.

While the principal begins speaking quietly with the nurse, I finally manage to spot Dazai's long, lanky frame laying down on the uncomfortable-looking vinyl recovery couch tucked away behind the nurse's desk. And my heart pounds in my chest at the sight of him as I'm both relieved and horrified. Swiftly making my way to where he is, I carefully perch myself beside him on the couch.

His face looks so pale, his cheeks flushed and a bit red from sleep as he begins to resemble a small toddler who's been placed down for an afternoon nap after having cried themselves to sleep. He looks so young right now. Much younger than fifteen. And I can't help the overpowering instinct that hits me when I go to brush some of his hair from his forehead. With this touch, I see his brows pinch together as dark, thick lashes flutter in response to my presence. His lids slowly open to reveal those dark brown-almost black-eyes that look up at me in confusion.

“Dazai.” I breathe his name, and the crease of his brows becomes even deeper.

“...Odasaku..?” His voice sounds so small and fragile-disoriented-that it catches me off guard, though I nod to him and try not to let this show.

“I'm here.” I reassure him.

“I don't feel good.” I hear him moan with the flutter of his lashes, and I feel my heart ache and throb as I fight to hold myself together for his benefit.

“I know.” I whisper to him in a calm voice as I continue to brush strands of hair away from his face. “The nurse had to give you something to help you calm down and rest.” He doesn't say anything, so I keep going. “You became agitated in class this morning-” I tell him. “and wouldn't stop screaming.” Dazai blinks at me, then looks away and towards the ceiling of the nurse's office.

His dry, chalked lips part in order to say something, but then he quickly closes them back up instead. And it's so very quiet for a moment, the soft din of the principal's conversation with the nurse the only background noise.

“...I don't remember doing that...” I finally hear him utter through a hollow whisper what he'd probably been planning to tell me earlier.

As concerning as this is to me, I don't quite know what to say in response. So I end up saying the first thing that comes to mind.

“My work already knows that I'm here at the school with you.” When I say this, Dazai seems to infinitesimally flinch away as if he's somehow worried that I'm upset over this inconvenience. “Do you want me to take you home?” I ask, and those eyes swiftly flit from the ceiling to my face in genuine surprise.

“You mean I don't have to stay at school..?” His whispers quietly to me, not seeming to trust what he's heard come from my very lips as I simply nod.

“Of course not.” I say in a firm tone to reassure him. “Not if you don't want to.”

Dazai gives a weak nod of the head, and as I begin to help him sit up from the couch the nurse suddenly walks over to the two of us.

“Sir, what do you think you're doing?” She all but demands in a slightly elevated voice as Dazai begins to stand on shaky legs.

“I'm taking him home.” I reply in an even tone that leaves no room for argument, yet the woman continues to insist.

“You can't do that.” She moves forward, just about ready to assist my cousin back to the couch when another voice interjects.

“No, no. It's quite alright.” Hirotsu says, gaining the nurse's attention. “This man here is Dazai-kun's guardian.” He tells her with a gentle hand on the shoulder in order to stop her. “The boy is in very good hands.”

My narrowed, defensive gaze to the woman quickly flits to the principal. And I feel the scowl along my features ease and melt into an expression of gratitude to the man.

“Thank you.” Hirotsu nods to me with the faintest makings of a wry little smile before dismissing the school nurse to her former duties.

“I'll walk you out.” He quietly utters before slowly making his way out of the nurse's office and into the hall to wait for the two of us.

Dazai tries to stand on his feet again, wobbling as I wrap an arm around his waist in order to steady him. His arm draped around the line of my shoulders, I feel his weight sink into me as my eyes slide to the side to steal a glance in his direction. His head is hung slightly, the thick mop of dark brown hair once again in his face and hiding his expression. I press my lips together in concern.

“Can you walk?” I quietly whisper to him in secret.

Still disoriented and a little out-of-it, he doesn't say anything at first. But then I hear him faintly mumble softly enough that only I hear him.

“...carry me..?”

Without hesitation the arm not wrapped around my cousin's waist to hold him up comes to scoop his legs off the ground as I take the kid into my arms. I feel Dazai bury his face into the crook of my shoulder, and my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. Even though she'd been left little choice in the matter, I can't help but glare at the nurse as I walk past her while carrying my cousin in my arms.

It's more comfortable to take out my anger on her, rather than turning it inward on myself. Because I know... I know that if I had told the school just a little more about our situation, then maybe they would have been able to handle my cousin differently. And that it wouldn't have had to come to this.

Following the principal out into the hall in silence, with the weight of my cousin in my arms, I feel the lingering eyes of other children passing through the hallway. Though they quickly glance away when the principal of the school wordlessly passes them by with a stern look that tells them to move along. A part of me is grateful that Dazai has his face tucked against my shoulder, and isn't looking. And another part of me-while catching some of these looks-begins to wonder how many of these students actually saw the incident with their own eyes.

A few, perhaps...

Though a set of eyes narrowly squinting at me through square black frames catch my attention as I pass by a young man loitering in the hall who seems to be looking straight at me. He doesn't turn away, not like the others. Not even when I see the principal spare him a pointed look. He merely watches me in silence, arms folded along his chest, as we pass by.

Then I see him look at Dazai as I walk by while carrying my cousin out of the school in my arms. Yet this boy doesn't seem to show pity for my cousin. Or look at him with disgust. No. What I see written along the young man's face as we pass by is simple-genuine-curiosity. Nothing more. He gives me the slight quirk of the head before he finally looks away and sneaks back into the classroom he's been standing outside of.

...strange...

As I follow Hirotsu Ryūrō out of the school building, and into the parking lot, we finish our walk to my car in affable silence. Helping Dazai's feet carefully touch the ground, I open the passenger door in order to let him into my car before closing the door behind him as an audible, heavy sigh leaves me.

“I'll be taking the rest of the day off of work to be with him.” I mumble while bracing myself against the car with my head hung low.

“That's good.” I hear the man appraise my decision with what I can only imagine is the nod of his head in approval before I turn away from the car to look him in the eye.

The man then surprises me entirely by taking out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his trousers. I tilt my head as he helps himself to one from the pack before offering the pack to me in invitation to take one for myself.

At first I hesitate.

Of course I do.

This man is the principal of Dazai's school. An authority figure, of sorts. And-as my cousin's guardian-I want to make a positive impression.

But my hesitation only lasts a moment before I witness the amused little side-smirk Hirotsu spares me. And it's almost as if he can tell that I'm attempting to be on my best behavior around him, which he seems to find somewhat entertaining at my expense. So I take one of the cigarettes from the pack he's offered with his nod of approval. Leaning my back against my car, our cigarettes are lit as the silence is finally dispelled with his low, steady voice.

“I'm going to tell you something now-” He begins through a puff of smoke. “because I honestly doubt that you are going to hear it from anyone else.” He says, then looks at me directly. “But you're doing a good job in raising that boy.” I'm taken off guard when he says this to me, and it must show from the look on my face.

For a moment I don't say anything.

I can't. Because I'm genuinely stunned speechless.

That doesn't seem to matter, though, as the man takes another drag of his cigarette before pressing forward in voicing his thoughts to me.

“Over the years I've seen many students come through these doors while experiencing a troubled home-life.” He says before giving himself over to the twitch of the head and a sigh of smoke. “There are a few who excel here, and make it out of high school in order to live out their lives successfully.” A small frown tugs at the corners of his lips as he continues. “And I do what I can for the rest, but-” He gives a faint pause, taking another drag of his cigarette before releasing a stream of smoke through his nose. “it never seems to be enough to help them overcome such struggles.” He looks at me again, making sure to meet my eyes. “All I'm saying is that boy in there-” He indicates Dazai, who's sitting in my car, with the thrust of his chin. “is damn lucky to have someone like you in his life right now.” He says before eyeing me with a pointed look that speaks volumes. “Just make sure to take care of yourself while taking care of him, hm?”

I smile.

And then I nod in agreement.

With little else left to be said, we quickly finish our cigarettes in the parking lot of the school like a couple of teenage delinquents. The thought makes me smile again. As the man turns to go back into the building and resume his duties as principal, I feel myself strengthened and encouraged by his words.

Though I still feel lost, I find that I might not be as alone as I once thought I was.

Chapter Text

June 14^th

Three days...

It's been three days.

Three days, and they're still staring at him.

This is worse than his first day of school as a new student. Worse than the first time he'd gotten into a fight. Worse than the day he had come to school without a bandage over his eye.

Because now? It's not just his classmates. Or the other students in his grade level. No.

It's everyone.

Absolutely everyone is staring at him, now. From the first years, to the fourth years. Even the teachers. Apparently he'd made such a scene Tuesday morning that he'd needed to be removed from the classroom, and then taken home. And what's worse, is that he had to find that out from his cousin.

...because he doesn't actually remembers doing that...

He's tried.

Honestly, he's tried...

But that brief moment is still a mystery to him.

And-apparently-only him.

Because it's painfully clear to him, walking down the hall and to his locker, that everyone he passes by was either there when it happened, or has heard about it since then. And it's almost enough to make him turn back around and leave the building. Go home.

...if only doing that could make all of this go away...

But he already knows that it can't.

And-besides...

If he leaves now, the school is bound to call his cousin. And Osamu knows that this whole situation has already cost him a day's work. Burdened by that thought, he goes about walking to his classroom in a slow trudge with the frown he feels tugging along the corners of his lips.

He hates this. The tension that he feels as he enters is palpable-like running straight into a wall. Everything is so quiet. And everyone is looking right at him as if he's a ticking time-bomb, and they're all just waiting for him to explode. Slinking over to his desk by the classroom window-eyes to the floor with the hang of his head-he slides into his desk without a word.

In this moment, all he wants is to make himself as small as possible. To disappear completely into nothing-just to make it through another day he knows is going to suck.

If he can't leave-he prays-then, please...

...please, just let him disappear...

As the teacher begins the first lesson of the morning, finally drawing the attention of the whole class, he feels some of the pressure taken off of him. Some relief. It's nice. And he feels like he can finally breathe. With the teacher's voice filling the silence-and offering a sense of normalcy and distraction-he finds himself laying his head on his desk.

And that's when it happens...

His large brown eyes flutter open to violently crash-land into a set of vibrant blue as he realizes that his nemesis is staring right at him.

...perfect...

Osamu scowls at him through a sideways stare in an attempt to send Chūya the message that this silent interaction is completely unwanted. Yet his classmate doesn't quite seem to get the subtle hint, and keeps staring. And what's worse? The look on his face as he stares at Osamu. It's not the usual expression of disgust or ire that's normally there. No. This look is cautious. Wary-yet, at the same time, so invasive and probing-as if he's searching for an answer to a question he's not asking.

When Chūya refuses to stop this little stare-down, it brings out the more-immature and petulant-side of Osamu as he feels his tongue dart past his lips.

Though Chūya rolls his eyes, Osamu's childish behavior has the desired effect as Chūya finally looks away and to the front of the class.

Osamu feels his eyes slide back shut under such an awful, heavy weight as he attempts to focus on the monotony of the teacher's voice and their lesson.

In the background, the faint sound of rain tapping along the windowsill can be heard, and Osamu lets out an almost silent, internal groan. Because-if it starts to rain-he knows that he won't be able to escape to the refuge of the open courtyard come lunchtime. Which means that he'll have to endure more staring.

…

The morning passes with more wayward glances thrown in his direction. But-to his relief-it passes quickly. Yet the relief he feels immediately dissipates when his class is finally dismissed for lunch, and the rain that had been simply a drizzle has now turned into a full-fledged, torrential downpour. And just the thought of going into the school's communal cafeteria with everyone else has his stomach doing literal somersaults inside of his body.

This alone makes him lose his appetite. But with the rain outside, he has no other recourse. Nowhere else to go. Paused outside of the lunchroom that's quickly filling with other students, staring in through an empty gaze, Osamu's attention is suddenly diverted away with the call of his name.

“Osamu-kun.” The familiar, feminine voice draws his gaze away from the cafeteria as his eyes meet the welcomed sight of a friendly face.

“Akiko-san.” He greets her with the small nod of his head in a bow before his eyes immediately trail directly behind her to her constant shadow. “Ranpo-san.”

“Hey-” Akiko begins, moving closer to him in order to make it easier to hold a conversation. “I heard you left school on Tuesday.” She says through an expression that seems to show genuine concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah...” Osamu mutters glumly, staring ahead and into the cafeteria with a little scowl. “Everything's fine.”

There's a moment of silence on her end before Akiko speaks again. This time in a softer, more gentle voice.

“Well, good.” He hears her say, though it doesn’t sound as if she quite believes him. “I'm glad to hear that.” Akiko's voice is a soft hum, just above the din of the cafeteria. “I was worried about you...”

He doesn't know what to say to that.

So...

Osamu doesn't say anything, and merely accepts these words as they come.

“Hey-” Akiko speaks again, breaking through his thoughts as Osamu glances away from the cafeteria to look at her. “you want to eat with us today?”

He considers this for a moment. Usually-under normal circumstances-he would politely decline, and make his way outside and away from other people. But these aren't normal circumstances. And there's nowhere he can escape to, this time.

He feels trapped.

And the thought of enduring the lunch period like this-all on his own-is simply too daunting. For once? He actually considers taking Akiko up on her offer to spend lunch together. Making up his mind, Osamu finally gives the nod of his head in consent.

“Yeah-” He quietly mumbles. “sure. Okay.” And the fact that he’s actually agreed seems to make Akiko absolutely ecstatic.

…a little too ecstatic…

“Really?” She chirps, seeming as surprised as she is excited by this. “That's great!” As she says this, Osamu feels her link his arm with her own before being tugged into the cafeteria, Ranpo silently in tow behind them.

He finds himself in the food line with an empty tray that is quickly filled by the lunchroom staff with unappetizing food that he doesn't necessarily plan on eating. As they begin to navigate through the cafeteria in order to find a place to sit and eat lunch, Akiko suddenly becomes very animated as she begins to wave with her free hand.

“Hey!” She seems to greet someone further away from their little group. “Kōyō-chan!” At the call of this name, Osamu watches as a vibrant redhead with elegantly side-swept bangs along one side of her face raises her eyes and flashes a dazzling smile, then returns Akiko's greeting with a wave of her own.

“Hang on, Osamu-kun.” Akiko says, turning her gaze towards Osamu. “I'll be right back.”

The girl Akiko walks towards in order to talk to-Kōyō, was her name?-is someone Osamu doesn't recognize. So he assumes that she must be a third-year, like Akiko, and one of her classmates. Watching them interact for a brief moment, Osamu decides to find a seat instead of awkwardly standing around in the middle of the cafeteria waiting for her. Strangely enough, to his surprise, he finds that Ranpo chooses to follow him instead of waiting for Akiko to finish her conversation.

This is odd.

And it makes Osamu feel a bit strange, and uncomfortable. Perhaps Ranpo isn't friends with this girl. But then...

He isn't exactly friends with Osamu, either.

But Osamu doesn't say anything, and simply finds a pace to sit away from the other students: or-at least-as far away from them as he can manage in this crowded area.

It's too loud.

And it's uncomfortable.

This is probably why he's been avoiding coming here during lunch.

Long, spindly fingers begin to pick at the roll-possibly the only thing that looks like actual food-on his tray. Instead of eating it, however, the shredded pieces of the roll are unceremoniously dropped back onto his tray. The abrasive noises and voices swirling around him make him feel dizzy, and his stomach churn.

“I saw you-” The unexpected sound of a quiet voice right next to him causes Osamu's eyes to snap up from his handy-work with the roll.

Ranpo isn't looking at him, but Osamu is certain that he's the one who's talking.

“What did you say..?” Ranpo still doesn't look at him, but the flicker of a little smirk twitches along the corners of his lips, as if he's amused by Osamu's surprise.

“I said I saw you-” His lips move to form these words as Osamu stares at him, a bit slack-jawed. “when you left school on Tuesday.” Ranpo clarifies in explanation, and Osamu feels the expression along his face shift as his brows pinch together.

“So was it you who told Akiko..?” He quietly asks, and Ranpo merely offers the silent bob of the head in reply.

“They're all staring at you. You know that, right?” Ranpo mumbles in a voice that sounds just a little too high, and young for his age.

Osamu rolls his eyes.

“Yeah-” He mutters glumly in a sour tone. “I know.”

Of course he knows...

How can he not?

There's a long pause, and the two don't say anything to each other as the lunchroom chaos continues to swirl like a storm around them-the two of them standing in its center. Osamu is about to continue dissecting his roll into bits and pieces when he hears Ranpo's voice through the noise.

“They look at me the same way, you know.” He tells him without glancing in his direction. “It really upsets me. I just don't get why.” Ranpo mumbles, seeming almost as if he's talking more to himself, than to Osamu. “It's like-” He pauses in his words, seeming to consider them for a moment before continuing. “It's like there's something everyone else gets.” He says. “There's something everyone else gets, and I just don't.” Osamu can hear the slight edge of frustration in Ranpo's voice-though he can't quite tell if Ranpo is frustrated at himself, or everyone else. “I don't get it.” He says this in a hissed voice. “And I'm scared.” These words, as they part his lips, sound so very fragile. “It's like the world is filled with monsters. Monsters that only I don't understand.”

Ranpo doesn't say anything else. And-at first-Osamu feels completely lost. He doesn't understand. Yet, the more he ponders Ranpo's words in the wake of the young man's silence, and really thinks about them, Osamu begins to think that maybe-just maybe-he does. Understand.

Because...

Deep down...

Osamu realizes that a part of him knows exactly how Ranpo feels.

Though he's not sure how, exactly, Osamu begins to suspect that Ranpo sees this. Has figured it out, somehow, and is able to put words to it in a way he can't-this fundamental flaw in his code. The piece of himself missing that everyone else around him seems to have. And maybe that's the point.

Ranpo's message to him is loud and clear.

...Osamu isn't alone in feeling different...

When Akiko finally arrives at their table, the space is filled with her light and cheerful banter. Ranpo and Osamu..? The two of them don't say anything else to each other, the conversation they've just had feeling like a little secret that's simply between the two of them, and the two of them alone.

It's strange.

But strange in a way that feels nice.

Chapter Text

June 14^th

When I come home from work-the plan I've made to meet up with Ango goes by the wayside the very second I walk through the door.

Dazai isn't here.

I can tell in the way this place sits in silence. And this silence? It makes my heart tighten in my chest. Dazai isn't here, and-with his absence-the angel's voice whispers something troubling in my ear.

With a heavy sigh, I make for the phone in my pocket. Flipping it open, I go about texting Ango the unfortunate news. Then I stuff it back into my pocket, not waiting for his response. I know he'll understand. He always does. One of the many benefits of his friendship.

Making my way back out of the small apartment, I head to my car in order to begin the search for my wayward cousin before it gets dark.

Driving as slowly as I can without impeding traffic, I make my way down one side-street after another. And the more time that passes, the louder the voice of impending doom grows. It's awful. And it occurs to me that I don't know my own cousin well enough to have at least a rough idea of where he might go after school, other than home.

...it's just one more reminder of how I'm not cut out for this...

As the sun sinks just a bit lower in the sky-behind the taller city buildings-and my stomach tells me it's past dinner time, I finally spy something familiar. My bike. Leaning against the iron-bar fence of the city's cemetery. And the sense of dread I've been feeling this whole time shifts to something just a bit softer, and more melancholic. Because I don't have to guess as to why Dazai has come here.

...I know...

Pulling up to a crawl, I place the car into park. Then..? Then I take a moment to sit in the silence in order to collect my thoughts. Now that I've found him. Now that I know where Dazai is. The immediate crisis has passed, and now I need to figure out exactly what I'm going to say to him.

...the angel's voice is no help to me in this...

With a huffed sigh, I finally unbuckle my seat-belt, and leave the insulating confines of my car. Stalking past the bike propped against the fence, I make my way through the entrance into the cemetery and straight to my aunt's headstone. And before I've even made it close, I can already see the outline of a figure laying sprawled on the grass. I pause for a second-only a second-before making the rest of the way to close the distance.

Dazai lies on his back-on top of his mother's grave-seeming to bask in the light of the setting sun as if he's sleeping. Even though he's still dressed in his school uniform, and his book bag is placed off to the side, next to him. I come to stand over him, my shadow cast over his face, as I see his expression scrunch up into a somewhat amusing look of annoyance.

“Hello, Dazai.” I softly announce myself. “I've found you.” In response, Dazai merely lets out a dramatic groan.

“You're standing in my sun.” He complains, and I can't help but chuckle with the amused twitch of my head.

“My apologies.” I say, finally coming to sit down next to him. “What was I thinking.” I drawl in a deadpan voice, which seems to earn me a scoffed snort and scowl from my cousin, who's eyes remain closed.

“You're so weird, Odasaku.” This comes caustically spat out from between his lips, yet I take his disgruntled attitude all in stride.

I'm a grown man, and can handle his misdirected teenage petulance. And, besides... I'm the only one he has in his life to take it out on.

“Well, as long as I'm with you-” I slowly hum in a contemplative tone, staring up at the sky as I feel the breeze ruffle through my hair. “I'll never be the weird one.”

This statement as the effect I'm searching for as I hear a chuckled snort from beside me. Glancing down at my cousin, I see a faint smile lift the corners of Dazai's lips before it vanishes just as quickly. But it's enough to lighten the mood, even if only a little.

“So how was school today?” I finally ask in a quieter tone, my gaze drifting away and to the distance.

“Fine.” I hear Dazai grumble out, and I give the slight hang of my head with the contemplative sigh that pushes past my nose.

“Get in any fights today?” I ask, only half-teasing.

“No.” Dazai irritably huffs out. “Everyone was too busy avoiding me like I'm the plague.”

This causes a frown to tug along the corners of my lips. I want to ask him about that. But I suspect searching for details won't bear any fruit in this moment, even if I try. With this thought in mind, I let the silence between us linger. The evening breeze is warm, and pleasant. Summer is fast approaching. Another season. Another change. Another subtle step forward in the passing of time.

“Ne, Odasaku..?” The gentle call of my name is even softer than the evening breeze as it gains my attention.

But he doesn't say anything else. So I take this as an opening, and speak up.

“Yes..?” My voice come to match the softness of his own. “What is it, Dazai?”

“I've been wondering...” He begins-his eyes still closed, his body still at rest in the grass. “Do-” He hesitates, his lips pressing together as if he doesn't know how to say what's on his mind before those large brown eyes finally open, his gaze intense as he looks at me. “do you think-” Dazai pauses again as his eyes seem to search my face for answers to the question he hasn’t asked yet. “Do you think she felt any pain..?” He finally blurts out. “You know-” His brows pinch together before his voice dies into a fragile mumble. “when it happened...”

When he finally gets around to asking this question-and I fully realize the weight of what he's asking-my heart sinks and I look away. It hadn’t even occurred to me that this is something he would be thinking about. And I find I don't have an answer for him.

From what little I had been told after it had happened, the car accident had been extremely violent. Unsurvivable. It’s a miracle that Dazai hadn’t died in the crash as well. But I had never even thought to ask if his mother had died right away. And they had never told me.

And now..?

I don’t know what to tell him.

...Because I don't know for certain...

And what's more? I find I really don't want to know.

“In the hospital, one of the doctor’s told me that she didn’t feel anything.” He explains from where he lays on his mother’s grave. “But I’m not so sure I believe him…” He says. “He was probably just saying that to make me feel better.”

I stare out at the city from where I sit next to him. And, pressing my lips together, I brace myself to formulate an appropriate answer.

“Dazai-” I sigh his name with the slight hang of my head. “I really try not to think about that.” My answer is raw-and honest-because what comes next is the truth. “If I did-I honestly don't think I would be able to sleep at night.” There's another lengthy moment of silence between us before I finally hear the faint sound of Dazai's mumbled voice.

“...yeah...”

I risk another glance in his direction. Dazai's eyes are closed again. But his expression looks so discontent. So-troubled.

He's troubled. And it's in this moment that Ango's words come back to haunt me.

...what am I going to actually do about it..?

“Listen, Dazai.” I begin, bolstering my resolve as I continue. “I’ve been wondering-” I give another faint pause, considering my words carefully. “what would you think about going to talk to someone?”

Dazai opens his eyes. Eyes that look so much like his mother's. And he stares up at me from the flat of his back with an inquisitive expression. But he doesn't say anything. Not at first. And it seems as if-for a moment-he's actually thinking about what I've just asked him.

“What do you mean?” He finally asks, seeming genuinely baffled by my question as his eyes search my face.

“It's just-” I give myself over to a heavy-handed sigh. “you've been through a lot lately.” I say, the words making my tongue feel like lead in the way they make this situation seem so understated. “And it might not be the worst idea in the world for you to see someone to talk to about it.”

“But I have you, don't I?” Dazai all-but pouts in childlike protest. “Can't I just talk to you?” He asks.

But the distress in his voice, and desperate-pleasing-look in his eyes feels real enough for me.

“Of course you can.” I say in a low, comforting tone.

But you don't-I then think to myself. And I wish that he would.

“Will you at least think about it?” I finally ask him in hopes that he'll eventually warm up to the idea.

Dazai turns his head in order to look away from me. But his voice come clear enough for me to hear him.

“Yeah, okay.” He mumbles out this answer. “I'll think about it.”

Feeling as if this is the best I can hope for right now, I decide to change the subject towards something a little more mundane and less threatening.

...dinner...

“Come on.” I decide to break the silence as I begin to stand. “We should be getting home.” I tell him. “It's way past dinner time, and I'm starving. How about you?” Eyes closed, he seems to consider this for a moment before a heavy sigh pushes through his nose.

“I guess.” He grumbles unenthusiastically, but it’s an answer that’s good enough for me.

Opening his eyes, Dazai stares up at me from where I now loom over him, casting a shadow. But he doesn’t make a move to get up from his spot on the ground.

“Hey, Odasaku..?” His voice is light, his eyes filled something like hesitation as he speaks. “Do you think I could stay here for a little longer?” He asks.

“Sure.” I don’t have to take much time in considering my answer-of course I’m going to say yes. “Do me a favor, though.” He seems to wait for me to continue, staying silent, so I press forward with my own request. “Next time you want to come here, just leave me a note at the house or something, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dazai answers without hesitation. “I can do that.” And just like that, without a fight, a problem that had never even crossed my mind is easily solved.

“I’ll just head home, then, and order us takeout for dinner.” I decide, because it’s getting late and we’ve both obviously had a long day. “Be home in 20 minutes.” I tell him. “Food should be ready by then.” Dazai nods as best he can while laying in the grass before his eyes slide shut again without another word.

Chapter Text

June 17^th

“-so Ichiyō-chan keeps talking about this boy she's practically stalking, the little freak. Some poor, unsuspecting kid by the name Ryūnosuke-kun. And I tell you, Osamu-kun, you would not believe-”

These words continue to float through his consciousness like the summer breeze through the leaves of the Japanese maple tree next to his mother's grave. A constant, gentle hum, or rustling. His mind is a million miles away from this conversation. And even though he can still hear her talking, for the life of him, Osamu would not be able to tell anyone else what Akiko is actually saying right now if they were to ask him.

Because-he can hear her...

But...

...he can't...

Not when these thoughts in his mind are so loud.

“Hey, Akiko-san..?” Osamu interrupts her stream-of-conscious monologue.

She's looking at him right now. Or-at least he assumes that she is, with the way she's stopped talking. But he doesn't look up from his quickly-cooling, unappealing lunch to be sure about that assumption. Poking through the gummy rice along his lunch tray, Osamu gives a faint sigh though his nose when Akiko keeps silent in order for him to continue with the question he obviously wanted to ask her.

“How-” He mumbles to the sticky rice on his tray, having wondered this from the moment he met her. “how exactly did you and Ranpo-san become friends?”

This question falls quietly in the space between them. Though it's been one he's had on his mind for a while, Ranpo's unexpected conversation, along with his absence from school today, seems to embolden him enough to actually ask. The two obviously aren't dating, that much is clear to Osamu by now. But they're close. Really close. And their dynamic is something Osamu is most definitely confused by.

They're complete polar opposites.

Akiko is vibrant. Vivacious. Somewhat intimidating. Confident. And, at least from what Osamu can tell, well-liked by those around her.

Ranpo on the other hand? The guy is like a creepy stone wall. An ever-present statue. Always watching. Always listening. Always observing. But never truly interacting with the world around him.

With this in mind, Osamu first considered that the two had become friends in a very similar way that Akiko had first befriended him.

...by force...

This is the only scenario that seems to make any amount of sense in his mind. Yet he can't be entirely sure. And with Ranpo's absence at school-which he also finds a bit strange-today seems like the perfect day to ask, and find out for himself. Yet his question is met with nothing but silence as the various sounds from the lunchroom continue to swirl around the two of them like the ominous winds that bring about the storm lingering on the horizon.

He doesn't look up from his nearly untouched lunch. Perhaps the question's too personal, or too invasive. And the longer the silence continues, the more Osamu feels himself becoming strangely embarrassed.

Had he known that the question would be this uncomfortable for her to answer..?

...he never would have asked...

“That's a bit of a long story.” Osamu finally hears this quietly mumbled next to him, just loud enough for him to hear.

He risks glancing up from his food, and notices that Akiko isn't looking at him, and her facial expression is quite serious. But, to his surprise, she keeps talking.

“When I was eight, my mom and dad got divorced.” She begins, and Osamu's gaze drifts back to his lunch tray.

He knows how that feels. Something like that happened to him around that age, too.

He'd been seven.

“I stayed with my mom, and she started dating this guy. A doctor.” Akiko says in that same, uncharacteristically quiet voice. “They got married when I was ten.”

“And you didn’t like him...” Osamu ventures when a pause comes over the moment, yet Akiko shakes her head to this assumption, still not looking at him.

“No.” She answers as her slender fingertips tuck a strand of her dark bob behind her ear, offering a better view of her profile. “He was really nice to me, and I liked him a lot.” She says. “And he made my mom really happy.”

Osamu feels his brows pinch together. This answer confuses him, because Akiko's positive words about the man don't seem to be matching the way she obviously feels about him.

“He didn't have any kids of his own, so he treated me like I was the daughter he'd always wanted.” She says. “And, honestly? It was nice. No matter how busy he was with work, he'd always make it a point to spend time with me.” She continues, her voice lowering to a hushed whisper. “He made me feel special.” Osamu doesn't understand why Akiko sounds so ashamed when she says that.

He doesn't see how any of this has anything to do with her friendship to Ranpo, either.

And this sense of shame coming off of Akiko-it makes him feel...

...uncomfortable...

Even though he doesn't exactly want to, something in the ensuing silence compels Osamu to ask another question.

“...so, what happened..?” Because it's obvious that something did happen.

Something bad...

“He started touching me when I was eleven.” Osamu blinks without saying a word.

“...oh...” He finally mutters in a quiet voice, but doesn't say anything else.

And Akiko doesn't need to elaborate any further on what she's just said in order for him to understand exactly what it means.

Osamu feels sick to his stomach. And suddenly he no longer wants to so-much-as-even look at the food in front of him, let alone actually eat it. As he pokes at his food-which is no doubt cold by now-he hears Akiko continue speaking.

“He didn't stop doing that until I was fourteen-” She says, but doesn't wait for Osamu to ask the natural question of what made the man finally stop. “when I ended up in the hospital.” Akiko presses on, moving forward as Osamu feels his brows knit together. “When he saw me, he managed to convince my mom that what'd happened had just been an accident, but-” A pause falls over her words before Akiko gives the slight twitch of her head. “we both knew it wasn't.” When Osamu risks another quick glance at her, he notices the faint lift of a visible smile curve along Akiko's lips. “That was the same night I met him.” She says.

“Ranpo-san..?” Osamu asks, then blinks a few times in confusion. “In the hospital?” Akiko nods with that same, fond smile.

“Yeah-” She sighs, her tone now obviously more tender with the shift in who she's talking about. “this knobby-kneed, fifteen-year-old who was way too old for the Hello Kitty band-aid he had slapped on his shin.” Osamu stifles a little snort, but that doesn't seem to bother her much as Akiko continued. “Even though I noticed him right away-” She says. “I mean, it was hard for me not to-” The smile lingers along her lips, and Osamu finds himself in full agreement that Ranpo is just one of those people who is nearly impossible not to notice. “he didn't seem to so much as even notice me. Or so I thought. But I saw him take one look at my stepdad,” She says. “and I watched him walk right up to that man, look him square in the eye, and talk to him.”

“What did he say?” Osamu finds himself blurting out in a mumbled voice, because what could Ranpo possibly have had to say to a man he didn't even know?

“You'd have to ask him that.” Akiko quietly replies with the faintest twitch of her head, that same sentimental expression still on her face.

“You mean you don't know?”

There's another shake of the head in reply to his question.

“All I do know-” Akiko pauses slightly in her words with the purse of her lips in contemplation. “is that after that night?” She says in a hushed whisper. “My stepfather never laid another finger on me again.” Another little smile lifts the corner of her lips. “Ever. And the next day I went to school? He was there.” Osamu assumes, from the sound of her voice alone, that Akiko is referring to Ranpo, again.

“It's funny...” Osamu hears her quietly mumble in a soft, contemplative voice. “I'd never really noticed him at school before that.” She said. “But we've been inseparable ever since.”

There's a pause, and Osamu takes a moment to truly let this story sink in before he asks another question.

“Whatever happened with your stepdad?” He asks out of sheer-possibly morbid-curiosity as Akiko gives the faint shrug of her shoulders to the question.

“He managed to convince my mom that I wanted to go live with my dad, and that it was for the best.” She says with some nonchalance. “Looking back on it, now-he was probably freaking out that I'd say something to my mom.” Akiko softly hums in consideration of this. “But at the time, I wasn't about to argue with him-so-” She gave another brief pause before continuing. “a few weeks after being out of the hospital, I moved out. And I never looked back.”

“Do you still talk to you mom..?” Osamu finds himself asking, only to get another little, passive shrug from the girl next to him.

“Sometimes.” She says. “They're still together. And-from what I know-he still seems to make her happy, so-” Her voice quiets to a hush through the din of the cafeteria. “there's that.” Then the sound of her voice seems to turn almost vindictive with a soft his. “I mean-if he doesn't?” Osamu assumes that she's talking about the man making her mother happy. “I'll happily bury him with what he did to me. And I think he knows it, too.” She seems almost morbidly content with this knowledge as Osamu catches the fleeting smirk that briefly plays along Akiko's lips. “Bet Ranpo'd help me do it, too.” She adds, just for good measure, before glancing at Osamu with a more genuine smile. “So...” Her voice trails off as they look at each other for a moment.

“That's how you and Ranpo-san became friends..?”

Akiko's smile softens and warms with the slight bob of her head to him.

“That's how we became friends.” She says with an almost whimsical sigh. “The best of friends.”

Chapter Text

June 19^th

Getting off of work slightly earlier than normal still has me arriving to my home after my cousin.  A fact I'm grateful for now, seeing as my arms are currently full and getting to my keys in order to unlock the door would be-difficult.  Holding the grocery bags tightly to my chest, I awkwardly reach for the doorknob in order to let myself in.

“Dazai?”  I call out into the small entryway as I nudge the front door closed with my foot before strategically removing my shoes in the entryway, and proceeding into the kitchen.

“In my room.”  I hear this muffled response from down the hall, and quietly smile to myself.

“In the kitchen.”  This conversation is a familiar and comfortable one-far more comfortable now, with the time we've spent making a life together.  “Come help?”  To this, I hear the soft, padding sound of feet before I see Dazai appear, already changed out of his school uniform and into something more relaxed.

Without another word, the two of us fall into a natural routine developed through our cohabitation.  My cousin takes up his place by the paper bags laid out on the small counter-top, taking out each of the items and handing them to me.  Me, finding a place for them in one of the cupboards, or in the fridge.

It's quiet work.

But it's comfortable.

“How was work?”  Dazai finally asks while passing me a can of takenoko I bought to have on hand for curry.

It's taken time.  A lot of time.  But I notice how my cousin has slowly begun to initiate conversation without prompting.  I want to believe this means that he's feeling more comfortable, and willing to open up.  Things seem to be happening on their own time, so I don't push.  I’m optimistic about the subtle change.  But I find myself trying not to get my hopes up.

“It was easier than yesterday.”  I offer this answer to his question with a reserved smile.  “Not as busy.”  Dazai nods, handing me another can.  “And you?”  I then reciprocate in this conversation.  “How was school today?”

Before this has already left my lips, I know.  I know that this is a potentially loaded question.  Because today...  Today is one of those 'milestone' days.  Another first-in a whole line of firsts-that Dazai will have to go through, and experience, without his mother.

...Today, is his birthday...

And I've spent more time than I care to admit in worrying over this.  More specifically, how best to go about acknowledging and celebrating this day.  My budget goes almost entirely towards caring for my cousin, and making sure he has what he needs.  So I don't have an overabundance of disposable money.  Despite that, I want to make a point of making this day special for my cousin.  But, having lived on my own for some time, I don't exactly celebrate my own birthday.  And my current social circle is small enough that I’m not exactly invited out to celebrate anyone else’s.  So, honestly?  I'm not entirely sure how to go about this.

I don't want Dazai's first birthday with me, and without his mother, to feel disappointingly underwhelming with a lackluster celebration.

On the other hand, though...

I can't help but worry about the possibility of overwhelming him on a day that is no doubt already difficult enough, all on its own.

I notice from the corner of my eye how Dazai shrugs his shoulders to my question about school, but doesn't exactly look at me as we continue putting away the groceries.

“My homeroom teacher told the entire class it was my birthday during class announcements.”  He mumbles.

“Oh?”  I don't say much else, hoping that this opening will keep him talking.

Because it doesn't sound to me as if this is something that made him terribly happy.

“Yeah-”  He huffs.  “it was a little embarrassing.”

Ah.

There it is.

“How so?”  I quietly ask, encouraging him to elaborate.

Dazai only gives another small, passive shrug of the shoulders.

“I don't know-”  He finally says.  “it just felt like everyone in my class was being overly nice to me, just because they thought they had to.”  Dazai pauses, thinks, then continues.  “Well-everyone except Chūya.”  I can't help but smile a little at the way Dazai has recently chosen to abandoned all honorifics with his arch nemesis.  “He still acted like he hates me.”  He grumbles.  “Even threatened to fight me as payback for what I did to him on his own birthday.  Which is fine by me.  At least he was acting normal.”  Then gives the faint bow of his head while momentarily halting in his kitchen help.  “Everyone else, though..?”  His voice is a faint, mumbled whisper.  “Having them be 'fake' nice to me, just because it's my birthday, felt worse than being shunned.”

I sigh through my nose.

A little over three months at this new school, and it seems like Dazai still hasn't made any friends.  Not any than I know of, at least.  Though this is concerning all on its own, the fact that my cousin still holds this unshakable belief that others are keeping their distance from him.  That they somehow dislike him, or view him as peculiar, odd, or weird.  The way that they treat him truly seems to get under his skin.

He's expressed this repeatedly.  That he feels like an outsider.  That he feels-different.

And the fact that I'm not there at the school with him, to witness how others interact-or don't-with him, is difficult for me.

“...I see...”  Is my only response.

Because I have no way to validate or refute his opinion.  All I can do is listen, and not judge.

Another moment of more comfortable silence envelopes the small space between us as we pick back up our separate kitchen duties, before Dazai stops and I feel his eyes on me.  I turn my head, my eyes following suit, as I finally catch what he's holding in his hand with a questioning gaze to me.  I smile.  Soft, and understanding.

“I invited Ango over for dinner tonight.”  I say, indicating that the small bottle of inexpensive whiskey is meant for the occasion.  “Don't worry-”  I catch the slightly look of discomfort on my cousin's face at having a guest in our home on his special day.  “I warned him that he'd better bring something for you, or there would be dire consequences.”  Dazai quickly turns away, but not quick enough for me to miss the brief flash of a smile.

“I'll be making takikomi gohan for dinner, tonight.”  I say, which causes my cousin to perk up with a twitch.

“With canned crab?”  He asks, and I nod with a little smile of my own towards his excitement.

“I know it's your favorite.”  I offer this, to no surprise.

Canned crab has been one of my cousin's favorite foods since as far back as I can remember.  In fact, there was a short phase of his younger life where-much to my aunt's bewildered dismay-that was all he ate, and little else.  It didn't last long, but I remember how it worried her when she'd talk to my mother about it.

“Want to help me?”  I ask, putting away the last of the groceries before turning my attention back to Dazai, who shakes his head.

“I still have homework.”  I nod in understanding as I place the bags under the sink.

“Alright.”  I say.  “Dinner should be ready in about an hour.  I'll let you know when it's done.”  Dazai nods, turning away in order to head back into this room before calling over his shoulder from down the hall.

“Ne, Odasaku..?”

Without skipping a beat, I promptly answer the unspoken question.

“No.  I don't know what Ango is bringing you for your birthday.”

“But-”

“Even if I did, I still wouldn't tell you, Dazai.”  I interject before he can finish.  “Go finish your homework, and I'll come get you when dinner's ready.”  I hear a disgruntled groan, followed by a muffled huff, that causes a smirk to twitch along the corner of my lips.

As I hear the door to my cousin's room close, I give the slight shake of my head with that same little smile.  I'm glad that Dazai is looking forward to our guest's arrival, and his birthday dinner.  It puts at least some of my fears to rest.

Taking a moment to myself, I decide to step back outside, into the small courtyard right in front of the apartment complex.  Lighting a cigarette, I quickly check my phone to see a text message from Ango, confirming his plan to come over tonight.  I come back inside.  Then I go about gathering ingredients and cooking supplies in order to begin making dinner for tonight.

The meal is simple enough.  A mixed rice dish.  And with my budget, most of the ingredients are canned, and don't need much preparation before being added to the mix.  But I don't have much cooking experience above and beyond stove-top curry, and its sorted variations.  So I end up pulling my phone out again, in order to search up guided instruction before placing it on the counter near my work station.

Making dinner is a quiet affair.  Peaceful.  And it moves quickly.  Before I know it, there's a knock at my door.  And then another.

'Sakunosuke.'  I hear a familiar voice, muffled from behind the door.  'It's me.'  I glance at my phone to check the time, then look to the front door.

“The door's unlocked, Ango.”  I announce to my guest.  “Come in.”

From the kitchen, I hear the front door open, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“You're early.”  I hum, not looking away from the meal I'm cooking as I feel another presence with me in the kitchen.

“Is that a problem?”  I hear Ango ask, and shake my head.

“No.”  I answer truthful as I continue with the finishing touches to tonight's dinner.  “Food's almost ready.”  I say while adding some light seasoning to the mix.

“It smells good.”  Ango offers before finally coming into view.

I give a noncommittal shrug.

“It's passable.”

I see a small bottle of inexpensive wine placed on the counter before hearing Ango's voice again.

“For the host.”  A small smile curves the corners of my lips as I give a slight nod to the whiskey bottle on the counter as well.

“Great minds think alike, I guess.”  Ango huffs a light laugh.

“I guess so.”  He agrees with the little, amused smile that colors the tone of his voice, pausing, before briefly adding.  “So where's your cousin?”

“In his room-”  I answer.  “finishing up his homework.”  I check the time again, before glancing at the final steps I need to complete as I keep tending to the mean.  “I'll be calling him out when dinner's ready.”  From the corner of my eye, I catch Ango nod.

He seems to take this into consideration for a moment: the fact that we will have a little time to ourselves before Dazai joins us.  Then, he speaks.  His voice a low, murmured hush.

“So how have things been going with him lately?”  He asks, and I don't blame him for the discretion he's taking in asking this question.

The last time I'd mentioned anything about Dazai to him, I had needed to leave work unexpectedly in order to take Dazai home from school.  I'd briefly filled him in about the incident-as I'd promised.  But I hadn't exactly been able to offer many details.  Only what I'd been told had happened in his classroom.  Ango didn't push.  And he didn't bring it back up.

That is, until now.

“Better.”  I finally decide on this answer.

It's brief.

Vague, maybe.

But it's also honest.

A faint sigh pushes through his nose before Ango murmurs in a hushed whisper.

“Good.”  He breathes in a quiet tone.  “I'm glad.”

Dinner doesn't take long to finish.  And by the time it's done, the smell alone has already drawn out my cousin from his room.  Dazai's expression is guarded upon entering the kitchen and seeing my friend.  For his part, though, Ango offers a reserved-yet polite-smile.

“Hello.”  Ango greets him with a small, courteous bow.  “You must be Sakunosuke's cousin.”  He says, while Dazai still loiters near the threshold.  “He mentions you quite a bit.  It's good to finally meet you.  My name's Sakaguchi, Ango.”

“Dazai, Osamu.”  My cousin mumbled in quiet way of introduction.

Ango quickly looks at me, sparing a curious glance with the quirk of a single brow.  I never told him how my cousin had asked my permission to change his name.  It’s never come up in our bar-room conversations.  And I've never thought to mention it.  Yet the two of us know each other well enough that the passive shrug of the shoulders to his look is enough for Ango to simply go along with it.

“Ne, Odasaku.”  My cousin’s eyes dart away from Ango, and onto me.  “Is dinner ready, yet..?”  I nod towards his question.

“I Just finished.”

“Odasaku?”  Ango openly balks, looking completely confused now as I offer yet another little shrug of explanation.

“Childhood nickname.”

“Ah-”  I watch as Ango attempts to piece things together through pinched brows.  “a play on your last and first name?”

“Yeah.”  Ango looks from me, towards my cousin.

“Hm-”  He offers this faint hum, then a nod of approval.  “clever.”

Though it would go missed by most, I catch the almost instantaneous-yet brief-flicker of satisfaction on my cousin's face when Ango openly acknowledges his efforts in creating a fitting diminutive from my rather lengthy name.  Who knows..?  Perhaps Dazai's wish will finally come true, and this sobriquet will catch on, after all.

I suspect he'll become overjoyed if he can manage to convince Ango to go along with it.

As we gather around the small table, somehow it seems warmer, and more intimate, rather than cramped.  Homey.  And inviting.  A feeling I've been trying to achieve for months now, since Dazai's arrival.  But I suppose this feeling of a house finally becoming a home is better come late than never.  Another birthday gift for my cousin, perhaps?

I suppose only the angel's voice knows, yet they seem content to keep it to themselves for now.

The dinner-talk amongst the three of us is superficial, and lighthearted.  Nothing too deep.  Nothing too personal.  Nothing that would dampen or take away from this evening's festivities.  Most of the conversation is carried between Ango and I, while my cousin seems content in simply listening.  Though I don't mention anything-as to not make a scene-I notice how Dazai eats more of his food than I've ever seen.

I pour a small glass of whiskey for Ango.  And then one for myself.

“So I heard the new hire in your department is fairly attractive.”  I comment before taking a small sip from my glass, already knowing where I want to go with this.

“Really?”  Ango passively drawls with a look of forced indifference-eyes to the table-as he takes a sip of his own drink.  “I hadn't noticed.”

“Oh..?”  My expression remains stoic as ever.

“No.”  Ango digs his heels into this statement.  “Not even a little.”  To which I give a passive hum.

“Well-”  I say.  “It going around that she'd taken notice of you.”  This parts my lips, causing Ango to infinitesimally stiffen.  “Rumor has it she likes you.”  Ango scoffs with indignation.

“Yeah, well.”  Ango grumbles.  “If you ask me, she’s a walking human resources violation.”  He finally gives himself away.

Of course he's noticed her.  Everyone at the port has.  And any man in his right mind would.

I give a slight nod.

“You have a point.”  And, he does.

The woman is most definitely trouble.

And she has most definitely set her sights on poor Ango.

“And what about you?”  Ango shoots from across the table.  “Anything remotely interesting happening in your department?”  He pointedly asks.  “Anything worth complaining about?”

“...I've never heard Odasaku complain about work before...”  Dazai quietly chimes in, gaining Ango's attention and raised brows.

“Oh?”  Ango replies, seeming intrigued.  “He doesn't?”  I watch Dazai wordlessly shake his head before taking another bite of his food.  “Come to think of it...”  Ango’s eyes then land on me again.  “I've never heard him complain either.”  He says with an amused little smirk.  “Makes me wonder what he's hiding.”

“I'm not hiding anything, Ango.”  I shake my head.  “It’s just simply not worth talking about.”  Then I give my cousin a pointed look from across the dinner table.  “You’d find it boring, Dazai.”  And for a split second it looks like Dazai is about to stick his tongue out at me before catching himself in front of our guest.

I may be a part of the port shipping company, but the jobs entrusted to me are the dirty work no one wants to do. The reason is simple. Because I have no spectacular job title nor achievements.  Not like Ango.  And neither am I considered a part of any special department of the company. These silly jobs are easily pushed onto me. Simply put, I’m the yorozuya-or an errand boy-of the shipping company.

Nothing special.

Nothing important.

“It's not like Ango's job...”  I find myself saying before I can catch myself, causing my cousin to quirk his head, then look at my friend.

“Hey-”  Ango's expression and tone become slightly defensive under the scrutiny of my cousin's curious gaze.  “my job's not all that impressive, either.”  Dazai then glances towards me for confirmation.

“He's an accountant.”  I supply, which clearly leaves my cousin unimpressed.

Ango's job as an accountant might not be all that 'impressive', but it is important to the company.  Vital, even.  The pleasant lull that falls over the conversation is brief, as Ango takes another sip from his glass before speaking again.

“I suppose my job does afford me a few perks, though.”  He says in consideration.  “I went on a work trip to Tokyo recently.”

“I remember you mentioning that.”  I add in a quiet, conversational tone, to which Ango simply nods before continuing.

“It was a bit of a bust, overall.”  He admits.  “However, there was this nice antique watch I was able to snatch up,”  As Ango speaks, he presents a small gift box to my cousin.  “so I guess it wasn't a total loss.”  Dazai's expression is curious as the small box is slid over to him.  “The work of a late Medieval era watch craftsman.”

I watch as Dazai wordlessly unwraps the gift with a quickness that I think would have demolished the wrapping, but doesn't.  And I can’t help but smile a little as he stares at the watch with a childlike wonder and fascination before I let off a low, impressed whistle of my own.

“That's a very nice watch, Ango.”  My friend merely shrugs his shoulders at this complement.

“It’s a fake, of course-”  Ango hums with a mild look of disappointment before offering a reserved smile.  “but done exquisitely.”

Dazai's smile and expression are somewhat reserved, but sincere as he continues to inspect the gift in his hand before his dark eyes lift to Ango from across the small table.

“Thank you.”

Ango nods.

“Happy birthday.”

Nudging his empty water glass slightly towards me, I hear my cousin's quiet voice.

“Ne, Odasaku..?”  His voice sounds hesitant.  “Since it's my birthday, do you think I could have a small glass of whiskey, too?”  He tentatively asks, before adding.  “Just to taste it.  Please?”  I feel Ango's eyes on me as I thoughtfully consider this question.

“Did you finish your homework?”  I ask, to which he quickly answers.

“Yes.”

“All of it?”  Dazai nods his head with emphatic exuberance-no doubt in order to sway my decision.

Then, I watch his eyes light up as I finally give in to his request, and poor a small helping of alcohol into his glass.

“Happy birthday, Dazai.”

“Thank you, Odasaku!”  Dazai eagerly grasps his glass-looking the happiest I've ever seen him-while Ango looks on, visibly aghast.

“Sakunosuke!”  His sharp, scolding tongue and scandalized expression has the effect of squashing the spark of joy along Dazai's face as I see my cousin's expression fall.

There's a moment of weighted silence at the table-a standoff, of sorts-before my cousin speaks, his voice more reserved now.

“May I be excused..?”  He asks, and I feel like I have no option but to nod in agreement.

“Put your dishes in the sink.”

Dazai does as I've asked, placing his finished plate into the sink before going back to the table to claim the gift-drink I've poured for him.

“I'll be in my room.”  He mutters in a cool voice before turning to head in that direction.

“Alright.”  I call after him.  “Goodnight, Dazai.”  And when he's left the vicinity of the kitchen, my eyed drift towards my friend, only to be met with a judgmental look from Ango.

“Sakunosuke-”  Ango's voice is taut, his words crisp.  “you should have ridiculed him just now.”  I take another drink from my glass, finishing it off, before a faint sigh pushes through my nose as I set my glass back down on the table.

“I think you ridiculed him enough for the both of us just now, with that look of yours.”

“Look-”  Ango starts in.  “I'm sorry for having butt in,”  He says.  “but that boy doesn't need you to be his friend.”  Ango's looks is pointed as he stares at me.  “What he needs, is a father.  And you're not it.”

“You think I don't know that?”  I ask, trying to keep my composure, my voice calm in challenge while Ango meets this response with pursed lips.

“Where is the boy's father, anyway?”  He asks.  “Shouldn't he be caring for your cousin?”

“Yes.”  My voice is even, almost flat.  “He should.”  I continue while maintaining steady eye-contact.  “And when I reached out to him to talk to him about this whole situation, you want to know what he told me?”  I can see that Ango doesn't exactly like where this conversation is heading, but I don't care.

I tell him, anyway.  Regardless of how uncomfortable I can see this is making him feel.

“He said-and I quote-'I don't ever want to see that little shit.  He's your problem now, so you deal with him.'.”

Ango's expression falls.  He clearly hadn't been expecting that.  And as shamed as he looks right now, it can't compare to my own righteous indignation on Dazai's behalf.

I might be a poor substitute for the father figure Dazai needs right now.  I lack a certain discipline.  But I’m not blind.  And I know my cousin’s worth.  He deserves better than to have been considered an inconvenient burden.  Unwanted.  Easily discarded, and pushed off on someone else.  By anyone, really.  But especially by his own father.

It’s little wonder why my aunt had agreed to divorce him and take full custody of Dazai.

“Sakunosuke...”  Ango looks utterly abashed-about to apologize, no doubt-before the sound of my front door loudly slamming shut causes both of us to look in that direction.

There's a fleeting silence, before we look at each other again, Ango's expression now appearing quite ashen.

“...you don't think..?” He asks, but doesn't have to finish this question in order for me to infer what he's asking.

“I do.”  My own voice is calm, and collected.

Calm-even though we've both come to the same conclusion.  Dazai overheard what I’d just said.  And now he’s fled the apartment in response.

“Well-”  Ango begins, sounding genuinely alarmed over the situation.  “aren't you going to go after him?”

“Why?”  I ask in hopes of making a point in all of this.  “He knows where his home is.”  I say.  “He knows where he belongs, and where he's wanted.”  This parts my lips with unwavering certainty.  “And he'll come back when he's ready.”

What I don't end up telling Ango, is that-when he leaves my apartment-I'll be going out to look for my cousin, armed with a good idea of where to look first.