#dazai does get a flower of his own later that is not made from kunikida's ability lol

[zukkaoru]

"don't touch that" + any variation of kunichuuranzai

“Don’t touch that,” Ranpo warns.

Dazai pauses, his fingers mere centimeters away from the flower. Normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to disobey, but something in Ranpo’s tone tells him right now is not the time to cause problems on purpose. “Why not?”

“Kunikida made it.” They hop off of their chair and stride over to where Dazai is leaning against the counter, reaching out towards the single rose in a vase half-filled with water. “If you touch it, it’ll just turn back into paper.”

Dazai frowns. He drops his hand back to his side. “Why keep flowers around if I can’t even touch them?”

“Uh, because that one isn’t for you? It’s for Chuuya, which you would know if you came out to eat breakfast with the rest of us this morning.”

“I wasn’t hungry!” Dazai folds his arms over his chest. “Anyway, where’s your flower? Or is Kunikida-kun just finally admitting he likes Chuuya best?”

Ranpo laughs. “Mine was made of chocolate, and I ate it already. Unfortunately, only people who eat breakfast get a flower.”

Dazai glares at them. He knows they’re only joking, and even if he isn’t, it’s a stupid thing to get upset about. But Ranpo has a way of getting under Dazai’s skin—often without really meaning to. And they aren’t the sort of person to openly apologize for such mistakes, though Dazai would be hypocritical if he held that against them.

But before he can snipe back with something far crueler than Ranpo deserves, he hears the door open and Chuuya calls out, “We’re back!”

“Don’t—” Ranpo starts, but Dazai is already running towards the door, leaving his cane behind. He’ll have plenty of time to regret it later, after he beats Ranpo to Kunikida and Chuuya.

(send me a sentence (+ a ship) and i'll write the next five sentences)

[soukokuwu]

ADA!DAZAI OSAMU

》 angst angst angst (dazai x reader)

》 trigger warnings! death/suicide, talks of sexual abuse

》 word count: 3k

》 i had no idea it would turn out this long, i tried my best to cut out some stuff, sorry if this isn’t great, 🥺

“come back. even as a shadow, even as a dream.”

You were always smiling. That so, very infectious smile of yours. You were also sickeningly sweet, as though every word that spilled out of your mouth was laced with sugar. In the Armed Detective Agency, it was as though you were everyone’s happy pill. You were but a mere assistant, assisting in adhoc tasks whenever it was asked of you. Still, you made it a point to make a friend of everyone, making sure they had everything they needed, even if they hadn’t asked for it.

That was how observant you were. Dazai remembered the first week you were there, he had been chided by Kunikida to finish up a case report, and since Atsushi was nowhere around, he had no choice but to finish it up himself. The sun was setting, and although you were usually gone by then, he found a cup of coffee being placed on his desk.

He remembered looking up at you, and you wore that same smile you had on the first day Naomi introduced you to everyone. That beautiful smile, the one he could never forget. You had your bag slung over your shoulder, making quite a notable crease on your shirt. You must have been about to leave, but noticed him working, so you went to brew a new pot of coffee just for him, Dazai had thought to himself, seeing as the coffee had usually been depleted by this time of day.

So sickeningly sweet.

“Ah, belladonna,” Dazai had cooed, grabbing your hand in his before you could manage to get away. “Does this mean you are the one to commit a double suicide with me?”

He had expected a fully submissive reply, maybe a ‘Why, yes, of course,’ or at least a full out denial, something along the lines of ‘Are you crazy, Dazai?’ It had been your first actual conversation after all.

“Only if the circumstances are right,” you had said.

Then, gently, you pulled your hand from his and turned to leave. And just like the colourful sunset, he watched you gradually fade away.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The next time the two of you interacted, it was two weeks after your first. It was Kyouka’s birthday and the entire office was decorated for a celebration. Dazai wasn’t one for celebrations, and would usually be the first to leave, but at the time he felt compelled to stay. You intrigued him, after all. Although it didn’t make for much progress, since the two of you just calmly sipped champagne in the corner, exchanging small talk about the chaos unfolding in front of your eyes, slightly buzzed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

One day, Dazai was pouting over what Kunikida did earlier on one of their missions– he had thrown his favourite book The Complete Guide To Suicide into the river, and dragged him along as he pursued after the criminal, much as Dazai wanted to jump in to retrieve it. “All I did was recite different forms of suicide as we were working,” Dazai whined, to which Kunikida, who was seated opposite from him, just rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna get me a new one.”

“In your dreams, it’s just a stupid book.”

“But the store doesn’t have it anymore! You’re gonna print me one!”

To which Kunikida paid no mind.

But there you appeared, giggling and handing Dazai a box of sweets. “Here, maybe these will make you feel better.”

He popped one in his mouth. “Yes, they really do. Thank you, my belladonna, my saviour!” Dazai made it a point to be overdramatic as usual.

Of course, it didn’t, really. They’re just sweets, how could they make him feel better? But he said so, all the same, if only to just see the content smile you flashed at him, thinking you had succeeded.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Christmas rolled around, and Dazai had planned to leave early, being tired from the recent jobs. He didn’t feel like celebrating with everyone else. But just as he set one foot out the door, he felt someone poke at his back.

He turned, only to find you holding out a black gift box, tightened with a golden bow. It felt a little heavy. “Thought you might like this,” you had whispered in his ear before you went back to join the others.

Dazai got home, happier than ever. Why did you do this? He couldn’t contain himself and had opened the box right after he left the building. He didn’t even realise that he practically skipped home the entire time after that. With a spring in his step, he entered the apartment, turned on the lights, took a quick shower and laid belly down on the tatami. Humming to himself, he pulled out the gifts: three small bottles of sake and his favourite book.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

He found himself softening up around you after that, comfortable enough to actually want to consider you an actual friend. He felt a genuine niceness from you, and he couldn’t reject that, as much as he thought that he didn’t deserve it. As the months passed, everyone else in the ADA got around to calling you two ‘best friends’ or more so, ‘troublemakers’.

“You have totally brought her astray, idiot,” was Kunikida’s most-used phrase.

Dazai denied, thinking it was only partly correct. True, you were easy to get along with, and so you always played along with whatever Dazai had planned, which consisted of having fun in the office, mainly pranking his blonde partner. But you were still you. Still the same, eager-to-please, sickeningly sweet girl that entered their lives months ago. It was not a crime to be playful, and gradually, he found himself feeling a little... lighter.

You were a passive person, always giving in to other people. But as much as you were predictable in various situations, in many others, Dazai could not, for the life of him, ever guess the meaning behind your actions. He would never get bored talking to you, and he liked it very much, even though sometimes he would complain about ‘not knowing who you really were’, given that you barely ever talked about yourself.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Soon, the two of you got closer, having dinners together in either your’s or his apartment, only leaving when one of you was completely tired. It was as though the two of you were inseparable. But the moment Dazai caught on that you were falling quick for him, while at the same time ignoring his own growing feelings, he reminded himself time and again, this was as far as he would ever go.

This meant times where he would purposely make you feel as though he could care less. But other times made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Nothing that ever crossed the line of friendship, though. No, that would be much too complicated for Dazai.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

One day he got mad at you, more so due to his own frustration than anything else. You had appeared at the cemetery, holding a bouquet of flowers and holding them out to him. All he could think of at that moment was: What the fuck? Who’re those for? The friend he was visiting? It was the anniversary of his death for Christ‘s sake, Dazai just wanted to be alone. That did not translate into a friendly mood for him.

He got up from the grass and shot you a mean glare. “Please don’t offer me anything for my friend, it’s not like you knew him. Would it kill you to respect boundaries for once and stop being an insufferable people-pleaser?”

So that day he left you standing at the foot of his one true friend’s grave, wondering what you did wrong.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The house visits ended. So did your dinners. The weight on Dazai’s shoulders felt heavy again. He felt bad for lashing out at you, and even more for not apologising for it, but truth be told, he thought this was probably for the best. Maybe you’d get over your little crush this way, since Dazai would probably never initiate anything anyway. Yes, this was good for you, he convinced himself.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

A few nights later, the screaming started. A man yelled back, though Dazai couldn’t quite make out what he said. He heard the door slamming, hurried footsteps running past his apartment door. This continued for a few more nights.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

One night, curiosity got the better of him, and he knocked at your door.

“Are you in there? Is everything okay?”

A moment of silence.

“Go away.”

Dazai cursed under his breath, wishing that the other ADA members hadn’t gone out to dinner so late. Now what?

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The next day, he was determined. Whatever it was, it sounded serious, and he wasn’t that heartless. You were, at one point, his happy pill too. He’d at least want to see, with his own eyes, that you were okay. He strutted in through the ADA door, his favourite book in his hand as usual.

But you didn’t show up at the office. None of the others knew where you were. As far as they were concerned, you were supposed to show up for work but didn’t. Maybe you were sick?

The most disturbing answer though, was when people kept telling him, “Shouldn’t you know? She’s been having dinners with you, hasn’t she?”

It’s been two months since he flared up at you. No one else realised anything was amiss. You probably did a good job at hiding it. Probably came up with good excuses why the two of you weren’t making trouble in the office anymore. Or even seen interacting anymore. No one seemed concerned. No one else heard the screaming. You probably had an inkling when more people were home, not raising your voice out of consideration. How... considerate of you?

A sudden ominous feeling came over him. Every other thought out the door, he ran off. The Complete Guide To Suicide, slightly tattered, fell to the floor.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Fast forward to the present, Dazai was sitting on the grass resting against the gravestone, a book in his hands. He smiled weakly as his hands glossed over your handwriting. He had found the book on your table, that same day he found you.

The sight of your lifeless body on the bathroom floor, surrounded by a pool of blood, was a sight he could never forget. How could he? He had held you in his arms, and that time, it was his turn to scream. He couldn’t remember how long he spent in there before Kunikida came rushing in. All he remembered was your face, though blurred from all his tears. And your blood, staining his clothes, soaking his palm.

No chance to say goodbye, to hear that melodic voice, not even a last time to see your beautiful eyes. There was just... nothing. As he sat there with you, he spotted the scars littering your forearms. Both old and new. And now he realised why it was that you always wore long sleeves. Regrets piled up in him, one after the other.

He didn’t want to let you go with the paramedics, but he was forced to. Kunikida pulled him away from your body. Dazai refused to answer any questions, choosing instead to promise to change and stay in his apartment. Which he broke. He snuck over to your place after a change of clothes. He wanted to feel your warmth somehow, at least one last time. That’s when he found the book. And your letter.

He remembered his hands trembling as he reached for it, the delicate writing on the envelope messing with his heart. You had addressed it to ‘Osamu, my sunshine’.

Sickeningly sweet.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

“To my dear friend,

I wanted this letter to explain my intentions, to tell you why I did this. But now that I’m actually writing this... I don’t really know what to say. Which is why I decided that this book is yours.

You’re Dazai, you must know what it is, right? A-ha! You’re right! It’s my diary! A certain someone kept complaining he never really knew me, right? This is my reply. 

Sorry for the messy handwriting in the first half of the book, I started writing in it when I was a kid. Inside you’ll find everything I had no courage to admit to, no matter how much I trusted you. What I do admit, though, is the first time I found out you were suicidal, I already felt like I wanted to know you better. And I have no regrets. I’m so glad I met you.

I wanted to be stronger than this, I swear I did... But I can’t stand the thoughts in my head, the memories that still haunt me to this day. I know there’s a possibility for me to be happy, someday, somewhere, but I just can’t continue feeling like this. It sucks and... I can’t do this anymore.

You were the only one who could ever make me feel like living, believe me. I guess I just couldn’t stand against my misfortunes. I know that deep down there’s a part of you that cares, and to him, I’m sorry.”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

And that was it. The last words you ever wrote to him. Your words reflected you, from how you tried to be optimistic at first, but in the end you succumbed as you thought about whatever it was that led to your demise. Dazai felt a pang as he remembered the last words you said to him. The tone in your voice as you said them. He blinked away the tears and turned the page.

Your diary did indeed help him understand everything and why they unfolded the way they did. Although he would call it anything but truly knowing you. How can he ever say that when he couldn’t save you?

He remembered some pages more distinctly than others. There was one he knew he could remember, word for word. You had been a normal kid, an introvert, and your thoughts mirrored who you grew up to be: a passive, compassionate person. Until that night.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

I woke up just now. I felt uncomfortable. I wake up and I see him there, and I feel his hands. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t move. I was scared. Something screamed in me to move, to shout, to run. Why didn't I? I can’t even... save myself. How much more useless can I get?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

You had blamed yourself for what he did to you. You thought you did something wrong. You were so upset, so in pain. Until your brother got wind of what happened. And as Dazai read on, he realised why you were so quiet about who you were. Who would find it easy to admit that their father had killed their brother for standing up for them? What’s more, how could you tell anyone, when you felt responsible for his death? Now he knew why you never questioned him. Because you understood.

You stopped writing a few months after that, choosing instead to express yourself by drawing. You drew sceneries, the stars, and who he assumed to be your brother, a young boy hand-in-hand with a girl whose face you didn’t fill in. Dazai turned the page and spotted a sketch of him, at his desk on the computer. He smiled. You were so talented, making him out to look so good in a sketch. You started writing again after that.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

He’s weird. A little like me. But maybe a little less hopeless.

We were the only two calm people in a sea of chaos. It was nice.

Maybe I do want to find a reason to live.

I gave my colleague a sweet. He said he felt better. I must be doing something right!

My favourite book, it’s time to part ways with you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

He should’ve known it was yours. It looked a little used, but he just guessed you got it at a second-hand book store. 

The next page after that was a sketch of everyone in the ADA, and he chuckled at how fierce you made Kunikida look.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

Being in the ADA... kind of like the family I wish I had.

I still feel a little empty, why?

Scratch that. Dazai is a ball of sunshine (´ω`)

We drew in Kuni’s ‘ideals’ notebook. He’s pretty funny when he’s all mad and frazzled. He’s how I imagine a father to be... but how would I know, right?

Time to visit you, brother. How’ve you been?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

Dazai could just slap himself for misunderstanding your intentions that day. You had gone to visit your brother, but all he did was go and make you feel bad about being concerned about him. He didn’t even ask. How selfish of him.

And then you didn’t write again. Until the screaming started.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

Out of everyone in the world, the one I wish I would never see again appeared in front of me. How did you even find me? Fuck off already. Early release for good behaviour? What a joke.

I wish he would stop appearing here already. I don’t even know how he found me. But every time I see him I remember everything like it was yesterday.

He didn’t appear today. Finally. Some peace to myself.

And... again. I’m so tired of this. I can’t just run. I joined the agency because I wanted to be where they save people. It would be bad to run... right?

They can do without me... running wouldn’t be too horrible... right?

I’m tired... I’m really so, so tired...

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

That was it. For words. What a turn of events. Everyone’s happy pill found him, Dazai, as her personal ray of sunshine? Him? The suicidal maniac? He could hardly believe it the first time he read it. He wished he had known. How could he have missed such a big part of you? Sure, he found it weird how you managed to be so bubbly all the time, but this wasn't something he had considered.

He envisioned you having to sit in the office, smiling at everyone like everything was normal even though your worst nightmare had come back to haunt you. He realised your consideration came out of the fact that no one ever gave you what you needed, hence your constant tendency to provide what anyone needed. Dazai swept away a tear from his cheek as he sensed a presence closing in.

“We missed you at the funeral.”

Kunikida appeared and stood in front of his partner, expression grim. It was true, Dazai couldn’t bring himself to send you off last week. When Dazai refused to acknowledge him, Kunikida sighed. “There’s... nothing we can do about it. All we can really do is grieve. We’ll be at the office if you ever need to talk.” And then his partner turned and left.

Dazai scoffed, pulling a glock from inside his coat. He pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple and rested against it.

“Is it really?” he asked, to no one at all, closing his eyes.

Should I join you?

“if tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane, i’d walk right up to heaven, and bring you home again.”

[alphasmoonlit-selfships]

🐞 n ⭐ (love and cuddles) for atsushi if it's not too much trouble sdks (you can only do one if it is ;;)

you guys are adorable as well !! take care <3

(Precious kitteh! 🥺🥺💖💖 that’s Atsushi when being petted UwU)

“Why hello! It’s no trouble at all, @frigatea!” Atsushi cheered with a wide grin, “We accept any and all asks!” He says before flustering a little, his long belt seeming to swish like a tail, “I’m sure Dany would appreciate your comment about us! I know I am 😳 UwU an adorable couple, eh? 🌸😃💞”

“Alright! Let’s jump into the asks, shall we?”

🐞 Does S/I do anything for you on special occasions? Do you do anything for them?

Oh plenty of times! She has definitely made great efforts on my birthday; getting the whole agency to surprise me after a long run around through the city 😮‍💨 (of course that was Dazai-san’s idea). Though each birthday varies from nice and big with the others or small and intimate with only her. Usually those moments are the best really and I always admire her sweet gentleness that comes with it. Honestly, just spending my birthday with the person I love most and having all of her attention is all I need 🥰.

She has also gifted me a few things for our anniversaries, such as a really nice watch and nice uniform clothes. Most of the time, we’ve asked for the day off to celebrate by going out or spending some quality time together. She always does spoil me with some homemade Chazuke however, which I am not opposed to in the slightest 🤤

I think at the start of our relationship I definitely tried my hardest to make everything special and beautiful for her. To which I learned to tone down; she always reminds me that I am all she needs and is more than content with spending time with me or the others in a peaceful and/or chaotic setting the Agency can get 😅 But even so, Dany loves receiving any form of affection from me on special days. I, of course, include a little trinket here and there and some flowers or making her favorite dish too. I do hope to give her something more a little later in promise of… well a forever down the line together =UwU=

⭐ Tell us a random moment you had with S/I that you enjoyed.

😳✨Only one?

Oh, there are many moments that I have enjoy with Dany. Though considering you said random, my mind just instantly went to that one time Dany dragged me out into the rain.

It wasn’t falling too hard but enough to dampen your clothes if you were out for too long. We had just finished an assignment we were sent on and got caught in it when it was falling hard. While I was rather slightly irked and bit bothered by the change of weather, it all was quick to melt away when I noticed how much Dany was mesmerized by it.

She had a calm and blissful expression, seeming to focus all of her senses entirely on the smell of rain and the sounds of drops hitting the ground. She had a smile on her face and seemed to be lost in her own world for a good bit until it slowed down a little.

Honestly, she looked so serene and content, like nothing else mattered in that moment. I admit it definitely changed my mood to see her so quietly content.

All, of course, before she looked up at me with some mischief in her gaze and smile. Then before I knew it, she leaped out under the falling rain, getting herself soaked with rain drops.

“Dany! What are you doing? Your going to get sick!”

“Oh, come on with me, Atsu-kun! Join me!”

“But..we’re going to be all wet back at the agency..”

“Please? A little rain never hurt anyone, it surely won’t us.”

Hmm… I remember she had a wide and bright smile, there was a cheer and almost wildness to her that she doesn’t typically show to anyone. It’s rare and it catches you off guard. In a good way! You can’t help but let it take your breath away…

Or maybe it’s just me 😅 She definitely took it away, and in that moment of letting my guard down, she dragged me into the falling rain. Her laughter and excitement brought me out of the surprise of being caught under it.

The way she pulled me to dance and spin around with her definitely made me not even care that our clothes were wet and how our hair was practically sticking to our cheeks. I lost myself in the moment with her, I’m sure we looked like foolish teens in love.

Looking back on it, we clearly did, especially with how mesmerized I was by her big crooked smile and laughter, her hair mused and soaked onto her cheeks and just overall presence much brighter than she usually was… she was beautiful and my tiger agreed 👀🐯

If you want to know, yes I did swoop in for a kiss… I know, cliché kissing under the rain romance. Well it was rather causal like setting, but sweet and endearing. U//w//U

Needless to say, Kunikida wasn’t happy that we got back slightly late and soaked; and Dazai being him instantly knew everything like always 😔 well because of Ranpo…

Even so, I don’t regret the moment at all 🥰 we’ve definitely been caught under the rain many times after that one UwU 🌧

Thank you so much again for the ask! Excuse the late reply! But this was really fun to do and love reflecting on the past with, my Darling 🐺✨— the image above was commissioned by @/moon-fish-ghost definitely check them out! We hope you enjoyed and come by again soon! — Atsushi 🐯🌙

[straycat-writes]

Give Up (Osamu Dazai)

Summary: Life goes on, they say, it always does. So it did while you slept, and the world moved on. But did Dazai?

[This is a sequel and reads better with context. Read part one here.]

Two more months had passed. Life had moved on at the agency. Everyone was busy with his or her own affairs and the world had gone on like it always did. But not for Dazai.

For him, the walls were still white as ever, the smell of disinfectant still just as suffocating, the fluorescent lights of the hospital room still blindingly bright. And you were still unconscious.

He hadn’t been home in three days, instead spending every waking moment at your bedside until he was physically dragged away because visiting hours were over. And even then, he still didn’t go home. He just paced around in the waiting area until they let him see you again, or went to drink the night away at some nearby bar. But he never really went home.

Dazai made conscious efforts to see as little of the place he called home as possible. Why? Because without you there, it felt….haunted. Not by ghosts or spirits, but by memories. Memories of you and him. It felt wrong for him to be there without you. The house was so empty, and yet Dazai felt like he was suffocating in there. Perhaps it was because it was so empty. The house, his bed, his heart. They were all empty without you.

“Dazai-san, come on.” Atsushi sighed, “You have to go home. You can’t just sit by her bedside and wither away, you know?”

Dazai looked Atsushi dead in the eyes, completely expressionless, “Watch me.”

Atsushi let out a long frustrated sigh. He had dropped by on his way to the office to check on you and, as always, had found Dazai there, sitting with his head in his hands.

“You haven’t been to the office in days, Dazai-san. Everyone’s worried about you. How long has it been since you even went home?”

Dazai didn’t reply, and that was answer enough for Atsushi. He didn’t say anything, just observed Dazai with narrowed eyes. He knew nothing he could say would make a difference to him, so he didn’t try.

The first few weeks had been the hardest. Atsushi and the others had watched Dazai drive himself nearly mad with grief. They had all witnessed the drinking and the fits and the suicide attempts. Fortunately, they had been more vigilant than ever and foiled every single one of them.

In the next few weeks, it felt like Dazai was finally coming to terms with his predicament and trying to get a grip on his life. He stopped spending every night at the bar, started eating at least enough to keep himself alive, and even tried to replenish his dying home. He came to the office from time to time, did what he had to, and then went back to spend time with you.

But as more and more time was passing, he was slipping and falling again. Each day Dazai spent beside your bed, listening to the incessant beeping of the heart monitor only served to extinguish whatever little flicker of hope he might have had of you waking up. It’s pointless. Pointless, pointless, so pointless, his mind screamed at him. Everything is pointless.

And before he or anyone realized, Dazai was spiralling out of control again. He was grieving, but he wasn’t irrational. He knew that with each passing day, the chances of you ever waking up were dwindling rapidly. Looking at him now, Atsushi frowned. 

There was no expression on Dazai’s face, not even a frown. He was just sitting there, palm supporting his chin, blankly staring at the wall. Atsushi’s eyes travelled to your form, lying on the bed, and his face crumpled a little. Seeing you like that was killing him too. In fact, he made sure to visit you with flowers at least once a week, because without you at the office he felt really alone.

But he couldn’t even begin to imagine what Dazai was going through. Looking at him once more, Atsushi sighed again.

“I’ll send Kunikida-san later.” He mumbled slowly, “Maybe he will be able to knock some sense – and some food – into you.”

Dazai didn’t reply, but Atsushi wasn’t expecting him to anyway. He just stood up, and with one last glance at you, he left the hospital room.

As soon as the door closed behind Atsushi, an ironic smile slowly twitched its way across Dazai’s face, “He’s just about to give up, did you see, (y/n)?”

Just as quickly it had come though, the smile was gone and his face once again reverted back to an emotionless mask. He couldn’t even find it in himself to cry anymore. Any tears he might have had were already shed and Dazai just wasn’t sure what to do anymore. He wasn’t sure about anything.

Scooting closer to your bed, he gently took your left hand into his. Your hand, pale and cold, looked so small and fragile even in his slender one. Dazai intertwined your fingers with his, trying to bring at least some warmth back into you. Not like there was much of it left in him, but it’s the sentiment that counts.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, “I’m just…so sorry.”

He didn’t know what exactly he was apologizing for, but he needed to say it. Seeing your hand in his, your finger on which he was supposed to have put a ring long ago…he wished he hadn’t been such a coward about it. Now, he’d probably never get a chance to.

Dazai hadn’t slept in days, and coupled with not eating or drinking, the exhaustion was almost too much to take. But he refused to leave. Even as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, he refused to leave or even let go of your hand. That’s why when he suddenly felt movement near his hand, he thought he had imagined it.

Within a second, however, his eyes shot open and all vestiges of sleep or unconsciousness left him. There was no mistaking it. He had felt your slender fingers twitch in his hand. His heart rate sped up alarmingly.

Gripping your hand tight, he whispered shakily, “…(y/n)?”

The heart monitor was still beeping steadily, and for a moment he experienced the sinking fear of the thought that maybe he had imagined it after all. Dazai didn’t believe in God, but in that moment, he found himself praying to whatever higher power was up there. Please, just please don’t let it be my imagination….

And then your hand slightly squeezed his.

Dazai’s eyes widened. The tears spilled.

[scarlet-nin]

To Fix What’s Broken Is Not Enough

Summary: The first time Dazai sees Yosano, hears how she speaks, the way she threatens her patients into submitting to her care with the promise of a smile, the steel in his grin melts into quicksilver, a poison so potent flowing through his veins he can taste the bitterness of metal on his lips.

The first time Yosano lays eyes upon Dazai all it takes is a smile.

One smile for the warning bells inside her head to shriek alarm.

The first time Dazai sees Yosano, hears how she speaks, the way she threatens her patients into submitting to her care with the promise of a smile, the steel in his grin melts into quicksilver, a poison so potent flowing through his veins he can taste the bitterness of metal on his lips.

His heart misses a beat. The walls he spent years on building fall together like a house of cards in the summer breeze as deep inside his chest something blooms from beyond the ice, a flower. Fragile like the fluttering wings of a butterfly it festers.

“I can’t wait to treat you.”

She says, eyes glinting in the dim-light of the office with a leer for blood after he’s gotten the courage to move past the roots having taken to his legs to speak with her. A curtain of dark hair falling into her face is a sharp contrast to her paperwhite skin. Eyes fierce as they puncture into his own, scraping past the surface of his face with her scalpel to tear off his mask without mercy. The sight of her pristine coat of righteousness laying on her shoulders, imposing with its demand for respect. A coat to call her own. Just like him. A white to his black.

“Seeing all of these bandages…you’re going to end up sooner in my office rather than later. My new regular. It’ll be like unwarping a present.”

The moment passes. His head clears of the smoke obscuring his vision, the flower wilting inside his heart. Petals dropping into acid.

Her image bleeds into another one, twisting once more before the pieces click into place, creating a picture so vivid inside his mind he makes the mistake to smile in her presence.

Yosano stills, losing her sharp edges, the stubborn crease in her brow smoothing out in a single fluid movement as the shock sweeps her along to crush her against the rocks of the ocean.

She sees his shadow in all his twisted glory draped across his shoulders like the coat he used to wear. The invisible hands pulling up the corners of his mouth as elbows settle on his shoulders, the weight of the devil hard to bear.

Part of him wants to cover his eye, shield himself from having to see her. The urge to disregard Odasaku’s last act of life pushes his thoughts into the right order.

“What a pretty lady! Too bad you’re not my type.”

He whines, clutching at his chest. A doctor is dangerous. Always, regardless of ability. Whether man or woman. The sight of them is enough to stir the horrible apprehension of weariness inside his soul.

She blinks, scoffs and shakes her head. He wonders if she knows. Of the doll. How her existence shaped another.

She’s a replica. An inspiration. A faceless base of bottomless horror.

The memory of her skips around in the ghost of a little girl in a red frilly dress. Draws pictures of nightmares as she bosses around and feeds into the delusional born out of loneliness for companionship of a man loving nothing but a city cursing his name in the shadows of the night.

Would she disappear if he were to touch her?

“No, I guess I wouldn’t be.”

She storms past him, heels resonating like gunshots across the office as she slams her door shut with enough strength to rattle the frame.

Off to a bad start, then.

The first time Yosano lays eyes upon Dazai all it takes is a smile.

One smile for the warning bells inside her head to shriek alarm. Head buzzing as she reels back from this demon in human skin, terror is sinking into every crack of her handcrafted armor, slipping past the stiches she made to keep herself together. He rips them open with the sharp edge of his empty smile, eyes darker than the blackest abyss and leaves her to bleed out.

Veins freezing it’s the first time she doubts the President’s judgment. He let death walk in the door with a smile. Despite all the warning signs. This man will be the death for them, either by extension or his own hands.

After all, it’s in the nature of the student to surpass the teacher.

But she keeps her mouth shut and her eyes open. Kunikida plays with fire, throwing around a ticking time bomb while being none the wiser of the possible consequences. Dazai whines and acts more like a big child than an adult most of the time. Doesn’t spare her more than a glance in parting as they avoid each other. He flirts with the older women walking into their office doors and after months of observation her conviction falters.

The comment about her age might not have been about her age at all.

She doesn’t know how young or old he must have been when Mori sunk his claws into him.

All she knows is he smiles like the devil but acts like a fool.

His plans are a handiwork of her worst nightmare. Functional without major casualties or injuries. Efficient. The extent of his grasp on their reactions despite working in the office for only a few weeks is terrifying. An impressive display of pulling the strings. A master manipulator at his finest.

Another Mori. This time right among their midst.

As long as the blood staining his hands isn’t the Agency’s, she could put her grudge aside.

Perhaps even her fear.

The doll and the doctor. Two parts of a whole man.

As the doll, Dazai is void of feeling. Having no sense of wanting nor of happiness, he plays his act with little regard to the well-being of others. No matter how hard he tries, the lives of faceless people dying doesn’t bother him on a personal level.

Not like it does Yosano. Full of will and a passion to save the lives put in front of her with a world of pain and a simple touch of her hand. She breathes life into them, Dazai takes it away.

“Can you undress them?”

“I’d rather not.” Alone in her office with the smell of her personal perfume of disinfectant he tries his best to be compliant.

She frowns, a hint of annoyance creeping into her face as she turns to face him.

“How am I supposed to fix you? I’m fully capable of doing so without the use of my ability.”

“I can do that myself.”

The chance of her giving in due to knowing who must have taught him what little first-aid he knows is slim. But she nods, snapping her head to the side while gesturing to the door without another demand for him to undress.

“Get out of my office.”

“Yes, Mam.”

He winks, the beat of his pulse drowning out his the one in his heart. He flees, ignoring Kunikida’s yell to rest when he’s staying home tomorrow and to call in sick instead of worrying them.

The stiches he does on his arm are messy, a bit uneven and throb painfully but as long as he doesn’t have to be a prisoner to the infirmary, he’ll patch himself up in his apartment, locked into the tiny space of his bathroom with no doctor looming over him.

“You don’t like doctors at all, do you?”

There’s a faint hysteria of laughter hidden in her voice. She’s sure Dazai catches it anyway, judging from the tightness around his eyes, lips going white with the force it takes to keep his smile in place.

“No, sorry, can’t say that I do.”

The cheer in his words is nothing but a lie. She can see the truth in the faint tremor in his hand, the too short breaths in his pattern. The notion of what it means is reducing her to shaky hands, unfit to treat any person until she’s calmed down. It’s absurd. The thought of Dazai being afraid of her, when she’s been scared of him this entire time, is laughable. Or perhaps wary would be the better word to use in this odd case.

Neither one making a step. Not daring to cross an invisible line drawn into the sand by their own hands. Both too afraid to inflict a different kind of Mori’s wrath on themselves.

Dazai with his effortless manipulation could have torn the office apart if he wanted to. He didn’t for reasons Yosano is starting to grasp. Her danger lies in her authority as the doctor. Her words carry more weight in the Agency than his own. At least in concern to his health and she knows how easy it would be to spin a tale to her liking. Her word was law and if she wanted to make his treatment painful, he could do little to complain or protest.

Studying the bandages concealing the skin from her sight, she’s grateful her ability does not work on him. Like throwing a glass against the wall, he would break in the light of resurrection. While Dazai’s mind is his biggest weapon, the additional strain on top of having to shoulder the weight of his misery would have ruined him.

Ruined him like Mori ruined her.

“Can’t fault you for that. Some doctors are shit at their job.”

She says, the smile on her face honest and soft as she holds out her hand for him. The wound isn’t life-threatening so she isn’t going to hurry him.

“Want me to take a look at that now? If I wrap it up quick, I can give you something for the pain. I’d give it to you before, but you could run off afterwards. So, think about it as a treat.”

Slowly, he puts his arm out. She’s careful with her hands, touches feather light if she hasn’t had to use force. As if he were a child she works with quick hands, aware of how painfully stiff he is.

“I felt like I should have given you a warning. A shovel talk if you will. About messing with the Agency but I doubt I’ll have to do that at all. I’m not too prideful to admit you could run circles around my head.”

Giving him a grin full of teeth, she warps the cut up, keeping the pressure as light as she can before giving him a pill for the pain. He blinks, eyes wide as he looks from his newly warped arm to glance at her face.

“We’re done if that’s all. You’re free to leave or you can lay down here for awhile if you want to rest. Try to raid my medicine cupboard while I’m on lunchbreak and I’ll put you on paperwork duty for at least two months.”

She pats him on the shoulder before turning around with a flap of her skirt to clean her equipment. Dazai waits for a moment before stands and leaves, hesitating at the door like he might have wanted to say something but he remains silent.

Dazai, she learns is not an enemy, but a kindred spirit.

Yosano, Dazai learns, is a doctor who works to heal her patients. Her aim is not to fix them, to glue shards back together so they could break again and be shaped into something functional and exploitable, but to care. Her personal gain is of no importance in her job. Her motivator is compassion. Nothing more, nothing less.

Her touch is too kind for a doctor. Ruthless as she may be with an audience, the pain she inflicts is for the greater good of the person. The occasional revenge put aside.

Healing is more than just skin deep. Yosano lives by those words. So, he lets her patch him up, uses her to slack off during working hours and calls her when he needs someone to get himself out of hospital.

The doctor and the doll are so similar, no wonder they share a soul. Both hating their ability for the effects on others. Two people knowing the meaning of death.

The Angel of Death prevents death. The Demon Prodigy inflicts it.

Therefore, it’s only fitting he’s the one to return to hell. To Mori, who has more use for another doll than for a healer as a doctor.

“Dazai-kun,” The devil coos, eyes filled with blood.

After all, an angel has no business in hell.

“—Welcome back to the Port Mafia.”

But a demon can conquer the throne.

[datura-foxglove]

Please do Yumeno ability analysis

Sorry for such a late answer, I’ve been busy these past days. Alright, let’s start with Q. By the way, I dunno what is Q’s gender? So I will just use ‘they’. This one is kind of short since while Q has done so much chaos in the story, Q has never appeared again in canon so it’s hard to really see more of their Ability.

All images are from easygoingscans

Yumeno Kyusaku aka Q, Port Mafia’s most fearsome member and actually sealed because of it. Their Ability, Dogra Magra, is a mind control ability that pushes their target to become berserk and attack everyone.

Q’s Ability only works against people that had hurt them, so their Ability is supposed to be a counter-type thing. However, Q intentionally hurt themselves (by wrapping their arm with razor blade attached to a wire, making that the slightest touch anyone accidentally (or Q touches their arm to them) can be included in ‘hurting’ them and their Ability can almost activate at will now. I said almost because Q still can’t do anything if their target avoids them or is too far for them to touch.

(Q’s arm wrapped in wires with blades)

Q’s Ability or it can be said, ‘curse’, leave behind a mark (like curses from ghost stories) which can appear in any part of the victim’s body and shaped like a palm of a young child. The media for said curse is Q’s doll, which was created from Q’s Ability. If Q breaks apart the doll (it doesn’t have to be Q, anyone can activate the curse by breaking the doll if Q can’t do it for some reason. However, Q first has to ‘mark’ their victims or the curse will probably activate without any target. One doll can be used for more than one person, as seen by when almost the whole Yokohama fell into Q’s Ability when one doll was torn apart. The doll can laugh and speak, mostly taunting other people. It can even destroy itself).

When Q breaks the doll, the target will experience hallucinations in which everyone else are mind controlled and attacking the target, which will leave the target no choice but to protect themselves (it’s unclear if this is the only hallucination someone can experience while under Q’s mind control, since it’s the only time we can see into the mind of the victims. The victim may feel that they are only protecting themselves, but maybe Q also boost their own preservation instinct/arrogance/their desire to help others that made them fight back if the target usually won’t attack innocent people like Kunikida and Atsushi).

Usually, Q’s Ability is limited to only people that they can have direct contact with (since Q needs to bump or touch them to make their target hurt them), but for once in BSD we actually see if Abilities interact together and joined forces. John’s Ability to connect himself to the plants are now used on Q. With their senses joined with the plants, Q was hurt again and again by civilians who ignorantly went around with their daily activities (stomping on roots, picking a flower, trimming branches, etc), all of this pain went into Q and so, Q can use their Ability to almost everyone in Yokohama at once.

(Now I want to see other Abilities working together. Hmm... wonder what Abilities can join together so well like John and Q? Is this considered a Singularity?)

In combat, while Q doesn’t directly fight in combat, they can be a deterrent that hold the enemy attack. If they don’t know about Q’s Ability, Q can be a pretty devastating trap. While all the enemy attack them at once, Q then can activate their Ability and make the enemy’s side break apart because they start to attack each other in mad frenzy. If the enemy know about Q’s Ability, they will be unable to attack in fear of accidentally activating Q’s Ability.

However, Q’s Ability doesn’t differ between friend and foe. If there is any friendly-fire between Q’s comrades, then they will also fall into Q’s mind control. It’s unknown whether Q can select the people that their Ability affect or it just affect everyone that hurt him.

So, against people with Abilities or not, Q can be a very troublesome opponent. It’s also unclear to what extent their Ability can ‘blame’ someone for any pain Q get. For example, let’s say... what if Chuuya chuck a boulder at the enemy and then a piece of it bounced and accidentally landed on Q’s head. Will it still be counted as Chuuya’s attack against Q? Chuuya may fling the boulder, but a piece of it wasn’t counted as the attack. The boulder is an inanimate object that bounced because of gravity (not Chuuya’s gravity) or wind and landed on Q. Can Q still blame Chuuya for that stone when it’s not Chuuya’s fault but the nature? Or if Dazai left behind Mori’s scalpel as a trap against Q, will Q’s curse target be Dazai (let’s just ignore the fact that Dazai won’t be affected by the curse for the sake of this example) or Mori if Q doesn’t know that it’s Dazai’s fault and instead blame Mori? Will Mori be the one to receive the curse instead of Dazai, who is the true culprit?

(When Q is connected to the plants and his curses landed on everyone without fail, it can be argued that since their senses are connected to the plants they can ‘sensed’ people who have hurt them. But if it wasn’t because of that, then Q’s curse will only mark people that have hurt them. If even the most accident of accident can still invoke Q’s curse, then their comrades really have to tip toe around Q. It’s also unclear why Q didn’t immediately activate their curse by having the doll rip itself apart the moment they had marked the people of Yokohama. It can be that Fitzgerald and the others stopped the doll from tearing itself down, but it can also because there is a limit in distance of how much Q can move the doll)

Q doesn’t seem to have any combat capability, although at that time Q’s opponent is Lovecraft which... well... but their aversion to direct combat can be a proof that they aren’t really good at it, despite the fact that just like Chuuya, direct combat is when their Ability can be used in full. Just imagine if Q can fight almost as good as Chuuya. They can go around to the battlefield, letting the enemies get a few good punches and then faking retreat. When the enemies that had hurt them went back to their base, Q can activate their curse and then the mind controlled victims will then rip apart their own organization.

Q’s biggest enemy is probably Dazai, since Dazai can purify (heh) the curse when he got the doll. Q can probably hide the doll somewhere safe (what if someone destroys Q’s doll? Will the mind control go on forever or will it disappear?) to keep Dazai from nullifying his Ability, although Dazai is also a really clever person and with Ranpo’s help he can find Q’s doll quickly.

If Q’s attacker can snatch away the doll from Q’s hand or limiting his movement (Akutagawa’s Rashoumon to steal the doll and bind him, Demon Snow, etc), they can prevent Q from activating their curse. If they also can kill Q in one hit without giving them a chance to activate it is also preferable. The fact that Q or someone else has to tear down the doll is probably Q’s biggest weakness, because their curse can’t activate immediately. This give some leeway for their enemy to attack him, keeping in mind of Q’s doll. But this also means Q’s comrade can sacrifice them. Let Q absorb all the attack and even if Q is unable to activate their Ability on his own, their comrade can just tear down the doll in their place. It is unclear whether his curse will still stay if Q dies, but if it does, then Q only became even more dangerous.

Also, while Q’s Ability is said to be mind control, it’s unknown to what extent Q can control their targets. Is Dogra Magra can only make their target insane and attack everything in sight? Or can it be used for a more ‘classic’ mind control like controlling them to be loyal to Q and do everything for them? Unfortunately it’s easy to see whether someone has been controlled by Q or not by looking at their face. Q’s victims usually has blood streaking down from their eyes. Can Q look at their mind and control what hallucinations they see? If so, Q can know what it is their biggest fear or worry, and compiled for later blackmail if needed. Does it leave a scar in their mind?

Fighting Q is unlike fighting other Ability user. The problem is not done just by defeating Q, but is also to make sure their Ability won’t activate. Q’s Ability is the second in rank of the sheer destruction it can bring. The moment Q is in the board, people will have to actively trying to seal them again just because of the high risk they can bring. Because Q and their Ability is uncontrollable, really like a zombie virus that keep on spreading and wreaking havoc in it’s wake. In fact, I wonder why Mori even let out Q in the first place. It’s just too risky of a move in my opinion. Q is more likely to bring chaos to the town that Mori is supposed to love rather than helping his plan at all. Without Dazai at the mafia side, Mori literally has nothing to keep Q in check. Then again, no one knew what was in Mori’s mind when he thought of that. Maybe he has a plan? That is for Q, I think.

[izanyas]

Build Upon The Ruins (2)

Back with more Pacific Rim AU Soukoku!

Rating: M Words: 7,800 No warnings.

[Read from Chapter 1]

Build Upon The Ruins Chapter 2

Moving from base to base was a hassle in itself. Moving all of the world's jaeger resources to one base was about fifteen times worse. Means of travel were scarce in the face of imminent doom; planes, which were already rare to begin with, had to be requisitioned entirely to move personnel and machines around. The jaegers went ahead by boat or train, stripped of their insides to make the weight manageable on water. Individual parts were lifted by helicopters. Everything had to arrive in a timely and orderly fashion.

Chuuya was in charge of overseeing that.

He was also in charge, less officially, of making sure Yosano didn't lose an eye making sure her fragile and pricy equipment didn't collapse and break during the trip. He was in charge of the Tanizaki siblings' chronic inability to function without coffee for more than two hours. He was in charge of reassuring Akutagawa that yes, Rashoumon was safe in the animal compartment of their plane and wouldn't get mistaken for stray luggage—as if the damn cat wasn't loud enough that all who walked past his box thought he was getting viciously murdered in it. He was in charge of texting back and forth with Sakaguchi about the candidates for Double Black's free pilot position, he was in charge of keeping Kouyou informed of every single development, and most of all, he was in charge of fucking Dazai.

"Get the hell out of my face," he growled, slapping his cane across the seat next to him before Dazai could slip into it like he apparently intended to. "This is the angry disabled corner."

"I'm here on a mission," Dazai replied innocently. "It's even Kouyou-approved."

Chuuya's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He let the cane fall back next to his knee when Dazai nudged it away, groaned when Dazai picked up the papers strewn across the seat to shove them upright between their armrests. Dazai sat down with a sigh once he was done.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked, looking down the path and waving back at Nakajima, who sat at the front of the row. Akutagawa seemed to be in the middle of ripping the fabric off of his seat, he was clawing so hard at it.

"Does it matter?" Chuuya replied.

Dazai thankfully stayed silent.

There were several components to Chuuya's current god-awful mood. First was the stress of the move. Second was the fact that his body was in more pain than usual because of it—his breath kept hitching from phantom breaks in his ribs.

Third was the fearful looks that the flight attendant had given the spread of tell-tale tattoos over his naked arms, as if the flowers were about to jump off his skin to poke her in the eyes. He would've worn longer sleeves if only the Australian summer weren't so hot.

"I hate planes so much," he muttered. "Fucking unreliable flying cans. Never know if you're gonna land at all."

"I can think of a couple things scarier than a plane that you've rode in, Chuuya," Dazai said. Chuuya didn't need to look at him to know he was grinning.

"Yeah, well, it's different when I'm the one piloting the damn thing." Little as he wished to step back inside a jaeger and subject himself to the no doubt excruciating pain of trying to lift a single limb, he'd take it over trusting someone to fly him anywhere. "This just means nine hours of no contact with anyone on ground," he continued. "Like I have time for that."

Dazai elbowed him lightly, but he said nothing as they took off.

At least the ascension went without trouble. Chuuya massaged his thigh absently, recalling a few painful past landings. His leg throbbed, but he couldn't do anything about it for another two hours at least.

"You said you were on a mission," he said a while later. The same scared attendant who kept looking at him like he was about to pull a blade on her had gone by their seats—she offered them a drink, and Dazai smiled lopsidedly at her, making her blush.

At least she looked less like she was about to do something stupid after that. Like try and attack him.

"Indeed," Dazai replied. "Serious business."

"Stop joking around. What is it?"

"I'm here to make sure you sleep."

Chuuya stared at him.

"You're fucking with me," he accused.

"I would never," Dazai lied. "I'm under firm orders to make sure you get at least five hours of it. Yosano-sensei says you've been wearing this shirt for the past forty-eight hours."

Chuuya wanted to knock him across the head, or maybe yell in his face, but instead all he felt was fatigue.

"Fuck," he breathed, letting his head fall against the back of his seat. He stared at the plain grey ceiling of the plane unseeingly. "I don't have time for sleep."

"Sure you do." Dazai hunched over his backpack and took a black strip of cloth out of it. When he handed it over, Chuuya recognized a sleeping mask. "Everything's already settled—you're just being an idiot. And you're fortunately cut off from all communication except the physical." He smirked. "I think you're a little overworked, Chuuya."

"I'm not," Chuuya mumbled, but he took the mask. It was better to put it on than to have to watch the exhaustion on Dazai's face anyway.

He had an idea of the reason why Dazai looked like he hadn't slept either.

The pressure of the mask felt good against his eyelids. His headache lessened, and with it the sharp pains in his chest. He shoved a hand against his side to press lightly on his ribs.

It's in my head, he told himself.

It never helped, but it was what he knew he should do.

"You better wake me up in exactly five hours," he muttered. "I need to brief you on the candidates before we land."

"I can look by myself," Dazai replied lightly. Chuuya heard a shuffling of paper by his elbow. "Top of the pile, right?"

It made the corner of Chuuya's mouth shiver. "I know you're lying, but in the miracle case you're actually willing to work… look at the guy named Kunikida."

"Sure."

Dazai's voice was even. As if he were discussing the weather. Chuuya turned his head toward the window, though he could see nothing anyway.

It took a while for him to fall asleep, despite the exhaustion. Chuuya tried to keep his mind busy with thoughts of the day to come: assembling back the last jaeger, forming the new comm team, finalizing the attack plan… meeting with the twelve-odd people Dazai would judge one after the other—meeting the person he would allow alongside him in the body of the beast. The one he would allow in his head.

He hadn't let himself think about it too much when he discussed it with Kouyou. She had looked at him with affection and regret, had asked, Are you sure? and Chuuya had nodded, pushed forward, not let himself envy. Not let himself sink.

He already knew he would never drift with Dazai again. The frightening emptiness he felt at the thought was less because he wanted to be back in Dazai's head than because he didn't know how to soothe the wounds he knew he would find there. This shortcut was closed to him forever.

When this is over, he thought, as he often did. Then we'll talk.

He didn't know what they would talk about, or how. He just knew he could deal with the rest on his own until then.

"Sleep, Chuuya," Dazai said softly.

It was its own kind of ache, one unrelated to trauma or injury. Dazai was sitting next to him and breathing next to him, and there was no danger around them, no burning terror through the tendrils of the drift—no sudden and excruciating silence, no amputated psyche—but he felt very far away indeed.

Chuuya slept.

-- 

Kunikida stood out like a sore thumb among the group that hopped out of the helicopter.

There were thirteen of them, men and women alike—boys and girls, really, because Kunikida didn't think any of them was older than twenty except for himself and a gloomy-looking white man with black hair. He had introduced himself as Fyodor and nothing else as they went through the selection process.

The girl next to him, Izumi, was only eighteen. She had greeted Kunikida with a few clipped words but no animosity, and he had given her the same respect in turn. At least she had been quiet on the way to Yokohama's jaeger dock.

"Follow me," their instructor, Sakaguchi, intoned.

They had to hurry along the length of the heliport. Rain was pouring down onto the sea, and this high up the air was biting cold. The chill spread through Kunikida's bones before they even reached the door. Inside was only warmer from human warmth and proximity. The large elevator shook under their combined weight, making a few of them look down warily. Kunikida watched Sakaguchi's face for any sign of worry and, upon finding none, decided not to care.

"Where are we going?" one boy asked.

Sakaguchi took the time to push his wet hair out of his face before answering. "Meeting, then training hall," he replied.

"Aren't we going to look around first?"

"No time."

The boy looked like he was about to protest, but the elevator stopped abruptly, and he had to lean on the shoulder of the woman beside him in order not to stumble.

Everyone stopped wanting to ask questions once the doors opened.

Kunikida had seen a jaeger in the past. In fact he had seen Scarlet Wind, specifically; he had watched with blurry eyes as it tore through the giant body of a kaiju not a kilometer away from the ruins of his school. And the memory was well-lived, as fresh in his mind as it had been six months ago, but even he couldn't help his intake of breath once the wide hangar he had known was hidden behind the dock's massive black walls appeared to his eyes.

None of the heads in the group were turned toward the ground as they walked across the length of the hall. They all watched the feet and legs of the machines, all lingered with bated breaths upon the silhouettes of ant-sized people working high on their bodies. One especially was unmistakable, even half-assembled as it was—Double Black stood at the very end of the hall like a great and silent statue. Fourteen gleaming medals adorned its wide chest. None of the other jaegers had any.

This was the one that two among them would pilot. Kunikida tried for a second to imagine himself moving it with his own limbs and mind, and though it was what he wanted, the perspective was humbling.

"Hurry up," Sakaguchi called ahead of them. He sounded faintly amused.

They scrambled behind him.

Kunikida didn't try and join the excited murmurs that sprouted around him as they walked through thinner corridors. Sakaguchi led them to a wide meeting room and instructed them to stand at the back in silence. The silence part was more or less respected, but Kunikida simply watched him join another man at the head of the room.

He was a short man, with long red hair tied into a high ponytail. One of his feet was perched atop a low stool, and with his free hand, he toyed absently with the silver pommel of a wooden cane.

The man raised his head once Sakaguchi was done murmuring to him. He watched over their group for a second, face unreadable. When his eyes met Kunikida's, the corners of his lips lifted, so quickly that Kunikida thought he must have imagined it.

"Thank you," the man said loudly. Sakaguchi nodded; he put a friendly hand over the man's shoulder after a second of hesitation, and then he left.

The stranger took his foot off of the stool. His cane's contact with the floor was loud into the thick silence as he made his way toward them. All the chairs and tables of the room had been pushed against the walls, so nothing stopped him until he was standing only a few feet away.

"Now," he said. "I'd trust Sakaguchi with my life, and I'm sure he worked all of you into the ground just to my liking—but there's been a change of plans."

He threw the files he was holding across the nearest table. Izumi jumped a little, shoulder hitting Kunikida's elbow. She was so small.

"We only have one job opening," the man declared. "So I'm expecting this selection mess to be finished within a couple days, instead of weeks. Maybe even today if we're all lucky."

For a second there was silence; then protests emerged, especially from the corner of the group where the youngest candidates had gathered together.

"What the hell?"

"I thought you needed two people to pilot a jaeger—"

"I'm not interested in what you thought," the man cut in, though his mouth was twitching again in amusement. "I want twelve of you to be gone by the end of the day. You should be relieved—I know I am. This has been a pain in my ass for months now."

"Who are you?" the one named Fyodor asked calmly. "And why change now? Two people are needed to drift."

"Glad you asked," the man replied. He rested his weight on his left leg and spun the cane against his palm, like an afterthought. "My name's Nakahara Chuuya. I'm the second in command here, after Boss Ozaki. And the reason we only need one of you is because you were never being trained to work together—we selected you based on how likely you were to be drift compatible with one of Double Black's original pilots."

Quiet reigned once he finished speaking.

"I thought the original pilots were dead," Izumi said lowly.

Nakahara huffed. "No. They're both alive. One of them's coming back into the field, and one of you," he gestured toward them with a gloved hand, "is going to be his copilot. Sorry we tricked you. We only got confirmation yesterday."

"Why can't they just pilot themselves, then?" That was Tachihara, Kunikida thought faintly, though he couldn't see the kid through the tight row of people between them. "If they're both alive then why bother finding a new pilot at all—"

"Because Nakahara Chuuya is one of the former pilots," Fyodor cut in. His words were flat, but his eyes were alight with interest. "And he obviously can't."

All heads turned to look at Nakahara again.

Nakahara himself only seemed mildly annoyed. "That's classified information," he said.

"I have my sources."

"I see." Nakahara spared another second to look in Fyodor's direction, not exactly frowning but not far from it, before apparently deciding that he didn't care. "Anyway. Now that you're all informed, let's get this show on the road, shall we? Unless you have further questions."

His eyes met Kunikida's with something akin to curiosity.

With the way he acted and talked, it looked like a challenge.

Kunikida opened his mouth and asked, "How are we going to know who's right, outside of testing directly with the drift?"

Nakahara smiled at him, every handsome line of his face sharp with satisfaction. "Test-drifting in pairs blindly would be useless," he answered. "Not to mention dangerous. I know you've all tested solo, but a true neural handshake is not to be taken lightly."

He blinked, and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"There are ways to figure out if you're compatible with him," he continued a second later. "And most of you probably are, though not enough to make a jaeger move." He turned the cane in his grip before looking at Kunikida again. "All of this is vastly experimental—we've never had to find a new copilot for anyone before, after all. But when you've drifted with someone before, you can tell if someone else would be able to drift with you."

The air felt chilled. Kunikida heard Izumi creep closer to his side, saw the way that Tachihara's group tightened as if to keep warm. Maybe it was another proof of how weird it was that he had been selected at all among them—they were all young, as fit as he was physically and no doubt quicker-minded. And they looked scared.

He wanted to be here. He had carried that resolve with him for two years now. But he didn't know why he was.

"I don't know how Dazai intends to test you, exactly," Nakahara Chuuya said softly. "But you should know something before I let him loose on you."

There was a pink scar at his temple, splayed in the shape of a star, half-hidden under his hair. Like something had struck him there and broken glass-like over his skin. He leaned heavily on his cane as he walked, and his right hand shook when it picked up the papers he had left as if he were trying to carry a much greater weight.

Still, there was not a hint of shame or weakness on him. The room's attention stuck to him with grace, and he handled it like someone who knew exactly who he was and where he stood.

Kunikida found that he had no problem imagining a man like that moving Double Black's imposing body. Killing fifteen kaiju in fifteen fights. A record no one since him had approached, let alone broken.

"You can't expect to drift with someone and leave any part of you a secret," Nakahara said. "And Dazai will not wait for the drift. He'll go after your secrets long before you can think of glimpsing his."

-- 

Dazai sat deep in the shadows of the ninth floor balcony. This aisle of Yokohama's base had once been used to stock jaeger parts until the rooms were full to bursting. Now the rooms were mostly empty, mostly unused; he had found a broken coffee machine in one and a working sink in another, and after that he had sat crossed legged against the wall and not moved.

He was almost level with Double Black's cockpit from this height.

He let his eyes linger on the grey eyes of the machine and then down toward its chest. It hadn't aged, not a bit. He hadn't expected it to, but it was one thing to remember Double Black as it was the last time he had seen it—skull knocked open and breastplates caved in from the monster's blows, the floor of the cockpit awash with seawater and blood—and to see it now, as good as new. It made his eyesight hazy. It made faint wishes materialize in his head as they hadn't done in years; he almost thought he would turn his head aside and find Chuuya sitting by him, mind still encroached to the last dregs of the drift.

"You just planning on hiding here all day?" a voice said behind him, and though Dazai's breath hitched for less than a second, it took no more than that for a grin to split his face in two.

"Just taking in the sight," he replied. His shoulders eased out of the tense line he had kept them in since landing. He shifted on his backside until the ground felt more forgiving. "I haven't seen my old friend here in a while."

"Mmh." The footsteps grew closer. A shoe nudged Dazai's hip gently. "What about your actual, flesh-and-blood friends?"

He laughed before he could help it. Oda's grip on his wrist was firm as he pulled Dazai to his feet and then further in, chests knocking together, arms squeezing around him tightly.

"Welcome home," Oda said against his temple.

Dazai's fingers fisted into the back of his shirt in answer.

They released each other eventually. Oda gave him a quick once-over and then looked away, unbothered by the way Dazai stared at him, committing change to memory.

There were new lines around Oda's eyes. He was clean-shaven, his suit rumpled but spotless. He looked even more at peace than the last time they had been in each other's presence, if possible.

"Four years," Dazai mused out loud. "Ango's been whipping you into shape."

He got a rough hand rubbing against his scalp for his trouble. "Shut it," Oda replied, once Dazai shook him off. "If you wanted to keep me lazy you should've stayed."

"I wanted to keep you fun. You're no fun when you work, Odasaku."

The other smiled fleetingly. "It's been a while since anyone called me that," he said.

When Dazai turned to look at Double Black again, the smile on his lips was genuine.

They observed it for a moment, standing side by side. Oda leaned over the bannister to peer down at the machine's chest. "They never did give you your last medal," he observed. "Not that there's any room left with all the others."

"It's fine," Dazai replied, glancing down at the rows of shining plaques, each bearing the name of a fallen monster. "I'm not sure why they stopped doing it to the others, though."

"Ozaki had a fit when they tried."

Dazai made a face.

"Well," he said slowly, "it's not like it matters. The kaiju punch just as hard regardless of the medals."

Oda nodded. He dragged a box of cigarettes out of his back pocket and lit one nonchalantly, exhaling the smoke toward the jaeger's neck.

"I can't believe you still have cigarettes."

"I keep them for special occasions." Oda's mouth twitched when he looked at him over his shoulder. "Like when my best friend, who never calls, decides to visit."

Dazai shrugged guiltily, crossing the space between them to stand by the bannister too.

The distance to the groundfloor of the hangar was immense. It was something he always forgot when he was in the pilot's suit—how high he was, how small and breakable people looked from this high up. How one step in the wrong direction could make the difference between life and death when you stood in a jaeger.

One wrong decision almost had.

His lips thinned. "How are the kids?" he asked, as much to distract himself as because he genuinely wanted to know.

"Good," Oda replied evenly. "Yu has a girlfriend. Sakura just started college."

"College," Dazai scoffed.

It got him the hint of a mocking smile. "Just because you dropped out the minute you turned sixteen doesn't mean you get to make fun of my kids for pushing forward."

"There were bigger things to think about than a higher education."

Oda flicked his ashes off into the high fall of the hangar. "Yeah," he said. "And it feels even more hopeless now. But I can't blame them."

Silence stretched between them. Easy and thoughtful. Dazai had long forgotten to care about the fact that he was, technically, an outlaw—had been since he was a teenager and running scam after scam in the streets of Yokohama alongside the man standing next to him.

He couldn't imagine being a teenager now, with only five jaegers left to defend the world. He couldn't fathom caring about college while knowing that only a thin wall stood between humanity and the breach.

"I heard you're going to be riding again," Oda said in the quiet.

He wasn't looking at Dazai when Dazai glanced in his direction. Just staring at Double Black again. "News travel fast," he replied, grasping the bannister.

It was ice-cold under his fingers.

"I saw Chuuya."

"I figured." Dazai's smile was shallow, directed at no one. "Sent you to fetch me, didn't he."

"Yeah. He gave me a list of your old hideouts."

It made him chuckle, made him taste bitter at the back of his tongue.

"I'm not going to ask about you two," Oda continued in the same tone—with the same understanding. "He looks like he knows what he's doing. I'm not sure you do, though."

"Have I ever been sure of anything?" Dazai asked lightly.

Oda only looked at him, fond and sad, and it felt more piercing than anything Kouyou could hope to manage. "You have," he replied simply.

He straightened his back, then, and rolled his neck around until the sound of his vertebrae cracking could be heard through the silence. He sighed some of the tension out after that and turned to face Dazai again.

"C'mon," he said, "we've been delaying long enough. I'm sure you partner's done putting the fear of God into your prospective copilots by now."

"He is rather terrifying," Dazai agreed, falling into step with him. He breathed in the deserted silence of the floor for a second, readying himself for the bustle of noise and activity of the lower levels.

"He's not that scary." Oda opened the door to the stairs. His voice was loaded with sympathy. "Not when you talk to him."

Dazai didn't grace that with an answer.

-- 

The training hall was one of the widest rooms in the dock. When Dazai had last been here, almost every corner of it was full of trainees and otherwise work-out inclined personnel, all equipment occupied in the down hours of the day. Now the matted floors were mostly bare, some of the running mills and weight benches rusting a little. The familiar smell of sweat and detergent still hovered.

Chuuya stood a few feet away from the door. He and the group of misfits he intended to make Dazai interact with had all left their shoes in the hallway, and it was a little funny, seeing him so seriously dressed in a suit, coat hanging over his shoulders and hair tied up business-like—standing in his socks. Almost none of the others wore environment-appropriate clothes either.

That was okay. Dazai didn't expect any of them to satisfy him enough to necessitate a hands-on approach anyway.

Dazai slithered out of his boots at the door, divested himself of his jacket and waistcoat, loosened his belt by an inch. All eyes turned to him once he set foot onto the mats.

"You took your sweet time," Chuuya said to him, before glancing back ahead.

"You should've sent Ango if you wanted me to be serious about this," Dazai replied evenly.

"I do want you to be serious about this. Sakaguchi was busy."

"Of course."

Chuuya looked better than he had when they stepped onto the plane, at least. Dazai was glad to have let him sleep seven hours instead of five, though the scolding that followed his waking up had been harsh. The bruise-like bags under his eyes were less pronounced.

Dazai tore his eyes away from him to finally glance at the thirteen people gathered a few meters away. They stood close together, quiet now but no doubt about to become louder with the words he could feel forming in his head.

He dismissed seven of them at first glance.

"Welcome to Yokohama's jaeger dock," he said in his friendliest voice, smiling widely. "I'm sure you're all as anxious to get this over with as I am, so let's not take more than an hour or so, all right? Then you can all go home."

He felt Chuuya's glare burn at his nape from the assumption that he would send all of them away, but he didn't turn back. If he couldn't find anyone satisfying enough to step into the head of the machine by his side the way Chuuya had once, then he didn't want anyone. It wasn't worth the risk.

They both knew it.

"My name is Dazai Osamu," he continued, standing still, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "You may call me Dazai. Though I'm not sure most of you will be here long enough to do that anyway."

Most of them bristled with indignation—but no one said a word.

Dazai's smile turned fleeting. Less kind. "If I'm unlucky," he went on, "one of you will have what it takes to pilot with me. As you can guess, I'm not ecstatic about the prospect."

"Why?" a woman asked. She was one of the few who had slouched in disappointment and distrust the moment he had opened his mouth.

"That's a good question," Dazai nodded. "Short answer: I don't want to pilot again."

"What's the long answer?" another questioned immediately.

"What's your name?"

"Fyodor." He didn't volunteer a last name. Under the yellow lights for the room, his eyes glowed almost purple.

"Well, Fyodor," Dazai drawled, "the long answer is none of your business."

The tallest of them all was a man with blond hair standing at the very back. Dazai was looking in his direction as he finished speaking, and though he didn't move, his face clenched in anger, too stark to be smoothed over in time.

"Have any of you drifted with someone before?" Dazai asked.

He wasn't surprised when no one came forward saying yes.

He let out a hum. "It's a singular thing, the drift. I haven't kept up to date with everything the media used to say about it when the technology was finalized—back when they still made jaeger and kaiju toys and stuff." That had stopped shortly after Double Black went inactive, he recalled. "There's a few things you should know before stepping foot into a jaeger."

Fyodor observed him with cold curiosity. The man with yellow hair with hot fury. Between them stood a girl, short and quiet, and she looked like she was drinking every single one of his words in and carving them to memory. There was no blank admiration on her face. No fear either.

Dazai knew, in that moment, that if he had to pick someone it would be one of these three.

"The first," he started, "is that kaiju are exactly as big and terrifying in a jaeger as they look from the ground. If you think for a second that you'll be safe inside the cockpit, then it will be your doom."

"Fawk," the girl said. Her voice was soft.

Dazai could almost fool himself into thinking he felt the way Chuuya tensed behind him.

"Exactly," he replied evenly. "A kaiju can and will rip apart the strongest armors created by man with its bare hands. Codename Fawk had very sharp claws. It only took it one blow to rip apart Double Black's head."

Fawk's claws had sunk into it like it was just butter. Sunk into the head and sunk into the drift and crushed Chuuya's body under alien flesh and metal. He didn't share those details with the group because he wouldn't know how to try, and because they weren't necessary.

"But they've got stronger jaegers now, right?" a man with red-dyed hair asked, switching to Japanese, maybe in the hope of gaining Dazai's approval. "Stronger alloys. Diamond reinforcement. They replaced sixty percent of Double Black's body with those last year."

"I have no idea about that," Dazai lied, feeling some satisfaction at the incredulous way the man stared at him. "I just know that the kaiju keep coming out bigger and stronger, and making yourself big enough to fight back doesn't mean you'll win.

"The second thing you should know," he said before anyone else could speak up, "is that whatever you've been taught about drifting will be completely useless once you actually do it."

"This is stupid," the redhead said. "What's the fucking point of teaching us anything, then?"

"They do try so hard to teach that. But it's not something you can learn. I'm sure you gathered that on your own," Dazai added.

Redhead glared at him.

Dazai turned sideways, looking at the pile of rotting training equipment to his left, letting Chuuya's silhouette emerged in his line of sight.

"A neural handshake is uncontrollable," he said. "It doesn't matter how stable it is. It doesn't matter that you're focusing on making thousands of tons of metal move. You've never known what it's like not to be able to stop your thoughts until you're aware that someone else can think every one of them with you."

He almost wanted to go on—it's the worst feeling in the world. It's the easiest thing in the world.

"We all get intrusive thoughts, sometimes. Shameful thoughts. Thoughts we're infinitely glad no one but us can see. If you ever drift with me, or anyone else, you can say goodbye to that. The more you try to hide something, the easier it is for the other to see. It's essentially letting go of any privacy you ever thought you had.

"I'll know if you kicked a puppy when you were five. I'll know if you murdered someone." It made him smile briefly, before he continued, "I'll know if you've ever jerked off to something you shouldn't have."

He couldn't resist looking at Chuuya then—and Chuuya was looking back, unsurprised, the threat of a smile fluttering around his lips.

Dazai looked away with longing burning in his throat. The panic pooling around his heart was stronger, though.

"Speaking of which," he said, distraction and need alike, "how many of you are under twenty years old?"

It took a moment for them to realize he expected them to answer. Eight of them raised hesitant hands up.

"Really," he muttered.

"Needs must," Chuuya replied darkly. "It's not like we get many volunteers."

The young were always more prone to making brash decisions.

It didn't matter. Dazai didn't think Chuuya meant for him to pick a teenager anyway, no matter how their simulation results looked. "You can go home," he declared. "Thank you for participating."

He stood bored and silent through the rise of protests, through the indignant voices barking about months of training and dedication and effort—until at last they seemed to realize that he really, actually didn't care.

"Fucking prick," the girl from earlier muttered, walking past him and toward the exit.

He was left with five people standing in front of him, two of which he already knew wouldn't do. "You," he said, gesturing to them, "can go as well."

They did so looking potently offended.

Dazai took his hands out of the pockets of his slacks and walked closer to the remaining three. His eyes were fixed onto the girl. She withstood his stare easily in spite of how much taller than her he was.

It felt familiar. In a good way. However—

"You're not twenty," he said.

"I'm of age for the selection," she replied.

He gave her a more genuine smile than he had allowed out of himself since leaving Oda's side. "What's your name?"

"Izumi Kyouka."

"Izumi Kyouka," he repeated. "You have a good reason to be here, I suppose."

She nodded. "The kaiju called Hammerhead killed my family," she explained, as if she expected and was absolutely prepared for the possibility that he might discover it on his own, and didn't care. Dazai couldn't help the approval he felt at that. "I want to be a pilot so I can take revenge."

"Revenge isn't a good enough reason to pilot."

"Saving people isn't the reason you pilot either," she accused. "You don't care about that."

He chuckled. "Indeed. You caught me. But revenge is a bad reason to pilot."

He saw her jaw clench, her hand spasm at her side as if she wanted to curl it into a fist. Dazai had no doubt that she was compatible with him, perhaps even more naturally so than the two men standing behind her. He knew he would be able to make Double Black move with Izumi Kyouka in his head.

But she was just a kid. The same age as Oda Sakura, who was starting college.

"Kyouka-chan." Her face flushed a little at the familiarity, which made something fond spread warmly through his chest. "I'm not going to pilot with you, but you're not going home. I want you to wait for me outside—there's a room with couches and a TV two doors down, maybe even coffee and food, if you're lucky. Help yourself to anything you want. I'll talk to you shortly."

She stared at him with an edge of despair for a second longer before relenting. Dazai watched her walk away; he caught the look that Chuuya gave her as she went past him wordlessly.

Chuuya never looked better than when he approved of something. The still-tired lines of his face eased into softness for the barest second, and Dazai felt warm in the neck, giddy even with the knowledge that nothing would come out of it.

"Okay," he said, turning back toward the two men left. Fyodor, and the man with yellow hair. "If I'm correct, I'm not going to like one of you, and the other isn't going to like me."

Fyodor gave a thin smile. The other man scowled.

"It seems we're in an impasse," Fyodor said tranquilly.

"Not at all," Dazai replied in kind. "Liking someone isn't required to pilot with them. It might even make it easier. Nothing to be ashamed of when the other side hates you anyway, don't you think?"

The man with yellow hair spoke, at last. "You said you would be unlucky to find a new copilot."

His voice was deeper than Dazai expected, but no less accusatory.

"I did," he agreed. "I don't want to pilot again."

"Why?"

"None of your business."

The man seethed, teeth bare, chin high. "I understand that Nakahara can't pilot due to past injuries," he said. "I can respect that. But you're not injured."

"That's true," Dazai replied, frowning.

He was pretty sure his and Chuuya's names and statuses were classified information. The way Fyodor looked at him, boastful, told him more than he liked to know about that. Chuuya's lack of a reaction even more so.

"Then why?" The man stepped forward, leaving Fyodor behind to crowd into Dazai's space. He was taller than him by a couple inches, and broader too, shoulders wide, arms thick under the deceptive softness of his shirtsleeves. "Why wait four years to pilot again?"

His anger felt personal and not at once. Righteous in a way Dazai had seldom encountered.

Dazai looked up at the man under the longer strands of his hair that always swept over his forehead. "None of your business," he repeated.

The look he was given was one of honest disgust.

"You've been standing here doing absolutely nothing to test us, nothing to let us prove ourselves," the man went on roughly. "You're acting like this is a game. I'm having some trouble believing you're one of the guys who once killed fifteen kaiju in fifteen deployments."

"He has been testing us," Fyodor interjected softly. Dazai and the man glanced at him in tandem. "This was never about training results or abilities. He's trying to figure out how compatible we are."

"Well I don't like it," the man replied hotly. He shoved an accusatory finger into Dazai's chest as he turned back, eyes dark, voice low. "You were right. I don't like you. What are you trying to achieve?"

Keeping his lips still instead of smiling was a struggle, but Dazai managed. "Why don't you take a guess?" he asked. Mockingly so.

He barely avoided the first blow.

It was testament to Fyodor's understanding of the situation that he didn't cry in outrage or try to stop his fellow candidate from hurting what was, in all due forms, a superior officer. Or maybe to Chuuya's understanding of Dazai that he never said a word either. Dazai sidestepped the man's first punch, feet catching gently on the ratty mats of the hall, and had to crouch and roll away to avoid the second.

The other's fist few so close to his cheek that it stung anyway, hot and dry.

"You could've been piloting all these years," he was saying, breaths deep and even in spite of his irritation. "We all thought the reason Double Black wasn't being used was because its pilots were dead—but you're here, and you're fine, and you're—"

This time, the blow landed, harsh, into the arm Dazai used to block it.

"I'm what?" he prompted.

The man's face whitened with rage.

His leg thrust out too fast for Dazai to do more than jump over it. The man followed up with a punch that turned out not to be a punch at all—Dazai raised his bruised arm to block again, and instead found his wrist caught in a grip too strong to dislodge in time to avoid being pulled forward and slammed belly-first onto the mats.

The impact knocked the breath out of him. The man twisted his arm behind him until it hurt sharply with the threat of a snapped bone, digging one knee into the small of his back.

"You could've been piloting all this time," he told Dazai, his victory not enough to erase how completely he despised him. He didn't sound satisfied at all. "You could've been saving lives. Give me one reason I should allow you into my head, you selfish bastard."

Dazai arched his neck until he could look toward the door. Chuuya met his eyes, silent.

"So that's your reason for being here," he said breezily. It was hard to breathe with his chest crushed under the other's weight—even harder with the way Chuuya looked at him. "You tried to save someone and failed."

The knee dug further into his back.

Anyone else looking at Chuuya now would've thought him indifferent, perhaps; but his grip was tight on the cane even if the gloves masked the yellow-white tint of bloodless skin under it. He looked ready to bolt into a run. It was that thought, ultimately, that caused Dazai to bow his head again.

He let his cheek drag painfully against the mat so he could look above his shoulder and at the man holding him down. "What's your name?" he asked.

The face above his was livid with fury. "Kunikida Doppo," he spat out. "Write that down into your little papers when you throw me out too and go back to letting the world die, Dazai."

Perfect simulation results, excellent martial artist. Stubborn as a mule.

Disappointment gripped Dazai by the neck. He felt breathless in so many ways. Nauseous with it.

"I'm not throwing you out," he said. "You're my new copilot."

Kunikida's eyes widened; his grip slackened only just enough for Dazai to twist out of it quickly and push Kunikida down in his stead. Kunikida yelped at the shock, then fell silent when Dazai's hand wrapped around his neck and squeezed warningly.

He never stopped glaring, though. Never stopped meeting Dazai's eyes with that same holy anger.

Dazai released his grip with a sigh. He stepped off of Kunikida's body and said, "I need a nap."

"Then go take one," Chuuya answered. His tone was almost convincingly disinterested. "We won't be ready to test until tomorrow anyway, no one needs you."

"Harsh."

"That's it?" Kunikida called, bewildered.

Dazai glanced back at him. He was still sitting on the floor, looking shell-shocked. "That's it," he replied. "Congratulations, Kunikida-kun. I'm looking forward to working with you."

He scoffed dismissively—it almost made Dazai smile despite the ache in his heart.

Kunikida would understand more about Dazai than he ever wished to very soon. And Dazai would have no choice but to know him right back.

"Go wait where I sent Kyouka-chan," he said. "Ango or someone else will come by to give you the grand tour and show you to your rooms. You," he told Fyodor, who was watching everything unfold with utter boredom on his sickly pale face, "are free to go."

"Thank you for considering me," Fyodor replied. His odd-colored eyes met Dazai's cooly.

Dazai's back ran with shivers.

The door closed behind them with little noise. The padding on the floor had always muffled its sounds for as long as he could remember. Dazai stared at it thoughtlessly for a while. He didn't know if the ache blooming over his forehead came from the lack of sleep, the trip from Sydney, or from Kunikida's rough handling.

"I'm glad it wasn't that other guy," he said lightly, turning face Chuuya. "Gave me the creeps."

"I didn't think he'd be strong enough anyway," Chuuya replied. He was looking down at Kunikida's file in his hand, but his eyes weren't moving. "Genius IQ, mediocre physical. I'm pretty sure he's been hiding some sort of health condition too."

"How the hell did Ango miss that?"

"Shut up." Chuuya rolled his eyes but still didn't look at him. "Sakaguchi works almost as much as ane-san does, he's allowed to make mistakes."

"Mad, the lot of you."

The joke flew over Chuuya's head entirely. Dazai felt very little like laughing too.

"Well," Dazai murmured, "you were right. Kunikida is very compatible with me."

"I told you he would be."

"Drifting with him might even be as easy for me as it was with you."

Chuuya didn't flinch. He didn't shudder or let his breathing stutter. His head turned sideways, eyes meeting Dazai's, showing absolutely nothing, and Dazai felt misery coil tight in his belly. He felt it run up and settle like pressure behind his ribs. His mind slid helplessly toward thoughts of reaching out with his hand to brush the faint star-shaped scar sitting at Chuuya's temple.

Maybe he would know what Chuuya thought if he did. Feel it at the tip of his fingers.

"How did you know?" he asked instead.

Chuuya breathed carefully before answering. "His psych eval."

"Are you even allowed to look at that?"

"Who's going to stop me?" Chuuya said wryly. "You'll know him better than any therapist soon enough anyway." He looked away. Stepped away. Then he added, "Kunikida almost didn't make it into the training program."

That was surprising.

"It's not for lack of effort or dedication. His physical scores are the best, he's dreadfully accurate in simulations, he's more than smart enough. But he has some issues."

"What issues?"

Chuuya gave him a joyless smile. "You'll just have to find out the hard way," he replied.

He started walking toward the exit, a little gauchely, because soft mats were more difficult to navigate with a cane than hard floor. Probably also because he hadn't sat down to rest his leg since the moment he stepped out of the chopper and into the dock.

I don't want to find out, Dazai thought, following in his steps. I never want to know.

There had only ever been one person he wanted to know that way. Only one person he had wanted to know him that way.

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[Fic] Pay no worship to the garish sun [Dazatsu]

Title: Pay no worship to the garish sun Summary: Dazai, a bored, restless god – tired of the mindless humans that pray to him, and is by now quite good at avoiding his duties and peers – wanders through the land and meets a human living all by himself in the dark woods. Relationship(s): Dazai/Atsushi Rated: T Warnings: Implied/mentioned sex. Author’s note: This is my gift for @magicalgirlmafu as a part of the Dazatsu Valentine Exchange 2017, I’m your secret valentine! I tried my best to squeeze in parts of your prompts and likes all over the place but I don’t know if I succeeded I hope you’ll like it, and Happy Valentine’s Day! 

Disclaimer: Title is a quote from William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, act three scene two.

[Contains Pining-and-sort-of-ridiculous-god!Dazai, Oblivious-human!Atsushi, I’m-tired-of-this-shit!Kunikida, Smoking-philosofer!Odasaku and I-ship-it!Yosano]

Dazai looks upon the tiny figures scurrying around down below, preparing food and decorations for tonight’s feast. He does not quite sneer, but the expression on his face is more unfavourable than pleased.

“I don’t understand the fondness you have for them.” Dazai says and roll over to lay on his back with his eyes closed. The eternal glow of the realm too bright.

He catches the sound of Odasaku’s faint chuckle, and finally relaxes against the buzzing stone beneath him. The familiar darkness and the absence of insignificant things – there is only he and Odasaku here now, Ango hadn’t been able to join them, being stuck in his ever-growing library – it made his day better.

“It’s not as much fondness as it is envy,” Odasaku answered, and when Dazai opened his eyes to look at him he absently stared down at the humans.

Dazai could feel a wrinkle on his forehead when he frowned and hurried to smooth it out before asking. “What is it they have that we don’t?”

Except the formalities, of course: Power, deathly good looks (at least in Dazai’s case) and other things that Dazai didn’t bother counting.

Odasaku shrugs, and it takes some time for him to answer. He leans back against the smooth pillar and drags his finger over the thin pipe in his hands. “They have life.”

Dazai blinks. “So do we. Unfortunately.”

Odasaku ignores that last part, and breathe in some more smoke before continuing.

“No, not like that. They actually live. They…” Odasaku hesitates, unsure on how to explain. “Their life might be a path towards death, Dazai, but they make the most of it.”

Another inhale of smoke.

“And I can respect that. Their life… it can be unbelievably beautiful would you look closer.”

Dazai hums and shields his eyes from the immersing light.

 Decades later, Dazai would stand at the edge of a shore, watching parts of wrecked ships float to shore. The sky was clear, blown bare after days of hard wind and pelting rain. Dazai take a few steps forward. Had he been human the clucking waves would’ve attacked his ankles, soaking them with salty water. Instead, Dazai nodded his head, and the water that’d been the destruction of so many ships and lives parted obediently, continuing its’ journey up the sand but leaving a small circle for Dazai to stand dry.

“They live.” Odasaku had said.

“They die.” Dazai thought, and left the beach.

In the end, humans might not be so different from them, but for now they were nothing but another entity in this world.

…

 Dazai stumbled over some roots, and would have fallen face first into the fertile soil hadn’t he managed to grab a branch and pull himself up. Dazai swore he could hear a faint chuckling in the wind when it rustled the leaves, despite his precautions for Yosano not knowing he’d visited her woods.

Trespassed, might be a better word for it, but why bother with details?

Point was that he wanted to be alone. Running away from duties came with the responsibility not to be caught doing it. And while Kunikida certainly knew what Dazai did, didn’t mean he knew where.

Dazai kept walking. It went slow. There were no clear path in this part of the giant woods. The trees grew freely and in some places were so tightly wound that it was impossible to press through. Dazai walked around instead, and so it had played out the few couple of days that had passed since he’d entered. His loitering was still faster than any man, even though he actively didn’t use his magic his eyes found the smartest shortcuts, the footprints of animals glowing around him, easy to spot.

And, there. A larger, outdrawn footprint.

The earth had been pushed down, up at the sides, by something heavy but agile, with crafted leather instead of fur and claws. Dazai frowned. There shouldn’t be a human this deep into the woods. There was a village, perhaps half a day from here, if you knew where to go. Dazai had passed it on his way, deliberately avoiding the people there and instead made it to the trees surrounding it on all sides. The humans living in the village seemed the kind to stay within their controlled areas, only leaving it to reach larger cities beyond the valley. For a villager to walk around this deep in… desperate for a good hunt, perhaps?

Dazai continued to walk. He seems to take the same path the human did, and soon the trees resemble something less than a wall, a little more space between the thick trunks and rays of sunlight slipping through the majestic crowns of leaves. As abrupt as Kunikida screaming at Dazai to wake up from his daily nap, the trees split. Stopped. A small field, nothing more than a patch of grass, really, with small flowers weakly attempting to beat the green vegetation with specks of purple, white, and yellow. Only interrupted by a body, laying still in the middle of it all.

The human boy – a young man – sleeps on his back.

Unaware of the many dangers that lurks behind the old trees, behind small, thorny bushes, the boy sleeps.

Dazai sneaks closer, curious despite himself. The sun has trouble breaking through the thick roof of leaves, a few rays give some light to the small glen. The ground is soft with grass and flowers and no sound was heard when Dazai stepped closer. It wasn’t so strange for the boy to sleep here. If anywhere in these great woods this was a place of tranquillity, of peace. The only odd thing was the boy, still. A human this far in, far away from his kin.

The grass tickled the human’s naked arms and Dazai saw pale lips half-open and how the unusual light hair reflected the sun. It almost seemed to glow. In a matter of seconds Dazai peered down at him, wondering. Dazai’s eyes took a peculiar shine, and he could read the prints and strings surrounding the sleeping human as if reading a book.

A book with a language only he could understand.

The boy had stolen. Twice, maybe more, but not something overly valuable. A piece of bread, an apple or two. There were the aura of scars etched on his skin beneath the white shirt, and his feet had callouses after walking barefoot for a long time.

There was no hint of true deviousness anywhere on or in his body. The boy had regrets but no sins, the strings attached to him gleaming in pure gold.

Dazai blinked. Intrigued now. He leaned closer, to take a better look, to figure this being out, and maybe to get a better look on the exquisite colour of the human’s oddly cut hair. Dazai was close enough to catch a whiff of burned wood and something else. Something distinctly more human but with an evident fragrance of flowers. Dazai followed the bridge of the nose down to the human lips and then up again.

To the very open eyes that stared back at him.

An explosion of colours blinked blearily at Dazai, surprise succeeded weariness, followed by a quick dose of sudden fear.

Dazai himself felt frozen. Couldn’t move a muscle. As the emotions in his eyes caught up with the rest of his body, the human lurched to the side, his before relaxed, soft lips open wide with a gasp half-way out before Dazai even had the chance to blink.

The wind rustling the leaves seemed to fade out, and left was only Dazai’s own undying and usually unnecessary heart thumping.

And Dazai had been through a lot. His life long enough for his beginning to be blurry, almost erased. He’d sneaked under the nose of beasts to have a look at their hoards, had tricked almighty gods to eat their weight in dirt concealed as treats, had run from enraged goddesses demanding his head on a plate, and all he could think when seeing those eyes for the first time was a silent “oh”.

Oh.

  They live, he heard.

They die, he knew.

Well, some of them are abnormally cute, he found out.

 …

“So what’s your name?”

“I don’t think that’s important right now!”

“Nonsense. Look, I’m not even bleeding. So, your name…?”

“Atsushi. It’s Atsushi. Are you sure you’re okay? I’m so sorry-“

“Atsushi. I surprised you, didn’t I? Your reaction was understandable.”

“Even so, let me… I can make it up to you!”

“Hmm. Okay then. Don’t you want to know my name?”

“…”

“Well?”

“Sorry, please tell me your name?”

“I’m Dazai.”

“Dazai, Dazai-san. Once again, I’m so sorry…”

“You’re forgiven.”

 …

 Atsushi showed himself to be one of those humans that existed outside of the masses, not really by choice, but because it was necessary according to said masses. The cottage he lived in was small, worn by time but cared for in the years Atsushi had lived in it. Alone. Dazai frowned when Atsushi told him he wasn’t exactly welcome in the village, but if he wanted to take a walk they could go down to the river?

“Sure!” Dazai smiled.

(He sent crows to make some fuss in the village. Atsushi told him about the strange occurrence a couple of days later, a frown on his lips but laughter in his eyes. Dazai was pleased.)

 …

 “Hello, Atsushi-kun! Nice day today, isn’t it?”

Atsushi startled with a shriek, whipping around and almost crushed the innocent flower in his hand.

“Dazai-san! You have to stop doing that!”

“With what?” Dazai took a step back to give the other some space to catch his breath, but kept smiling mischievously.

“Jumping out of nowhere! I have no idea how you keep surprising me.”

“You reacted better than the first time.”

Atsushi groaned and a fierce red coloured his neck, unrelated to the earlier scare. “I wish you’d stop bringing that up.”

“Sorry.” Dazai said, which was only half a lie.

Dazai sat down next to Atsushi. Conversation flowed easily before a comfortable silence ensued. Dazai leaned back and enjoyed the quiet, only a faint sound of birds and rustling branches was heard in the distance.

Suddenly, Atsushi reached out to push some stray strands of hair away from his face with a concerned smile. Dazai went completely still as Atsushi realised what he was doing and quickly pulled back his hand.

“Sorry,” Atsushi mumbled, “it’s just… you look tired, Dazai-san. You know you don’t have to come visit me all the time right? Your journeys must be pretty exhausting, after all.”

Dazai shook his head, had to himself from wincing when Atsushi mentioned the line of work Dazai’d told him about, reaching down to clasp Atsushi’s hand reassuringly. “Visiting you is always worth it.”

Atsushi currently believed Dazai worked with trading, venturing between the village by the woods and those on the other side of the mountain. Dazai chose not to mention that such long journeys would make it impossible for him to visit as often as he did, or that Dazai had never sold a thing in his very long life. He also didn’t mention the whole thing about not being exactly human; a quite important detail that’d been forgotten somewhere between Atsushi and Dazai getting to know each other and Dazai starting to visit the small cottage in the glen as often as possible.

Dazai would tell him, someday.

 …

 Most of Atsushi’s emotions had its own, special colour and appearance; easy to see when looking in his eyes. Beauty existed there.

They looked more yellow when Dazai brought food, pretending it was from the village, and it might be considered ridiculous to become so immensely happy about food, but it made Atsushi smile so Dazai expertly sneaked inside Kenji’s storages to bring back a feast. They young god had more food than he needed, anyway.

The purple in Atsushi’s eyes were more visible when Dazai was about to leave. The fascination Dazai had for them made it harder to leave, Dazai wanted to stay to explore them some more.

When annoyed, Atsushi’s left eye twitched. When nervous, he blinked more often and when embarrassed he avoided to look Dazai in the eyes.

Dazai considered stealing Kunikida’s precious book to write all of this down – and more – and loudly say “there’s your ideals!”

However, since Dazai didn’t enjoy pain he refrained, using the time it would’ve taken to plan, execute and flee from such actions and planted flowers around Atsushi’s cottage instead.

“Look, Dazai-san!” Atsushi screamed when he visited the next day, pointing excitedly at the many lush plants. They were orange and pink, blue and white with big and small petals. No thorns, but smooth and ready to be plucked. Even Dazai easily acknowledged the beauty in the flowers that clung to the walls and spread around the small cottage, and he felt no less smug about it.

“They must have bloomed during the night! I didn’t notice anything, aren’t they amazing?”

Dazai grinned.

“Do you think they’re edible?”

Okay, maybe a little less smug now. Dazai’s grin turned into a confused smile.

“What?”

Atsushi eyed the flowers eagerly, eyes yellow and bright, and Dazai realised this might not be as obvious as he thought it was.

…

 “Edible!” Yosano was in hysterics, her hands pressed against her stomach from laughing so much it hurt. “He wants to eat your gift.”

Dazai wanted to inform Yosano that Atsushi had eaten plenty of his gifts. But could get her point since they were actual food.

He wanted to tell Yosano that Atsushi’s smiles were like the sunlight in her woods. Dripping through the foliage, always cut off by shadows but persistent in reaching the ground. Beautiful and brilliant. That making him smile was like controlling the weather, which wasn’t his area at all.

Yosano was the only god he could consult with. Atsushi lived in her woods, on her land. And a few months ago she had it all figured out.

“I’ve noticed you’ve visited quite a few times now, sadly I’ve not been informed?”

Dazai didn’t look up immediately, instead opting to calmly set down the brush he’d been using before meeting Yosano’s satisfied and somewhat guarded look.

“I’ve enjoyed the scenery.”

“Oh, I see. The scenery.” Yosano smirks and raises her cup, and Dazai realise she knows.

He pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, ignores her looks, and picks up the brush again.

So far, Yosano knowing hadn’t really been a hindrance, more than a bruise on Dazai’s pride with sneaking through other god’s domains unnoticed. Instead, Yosano seemed to be an unexpected ally, though Dazai never asked her to. She granted him free passage to Atsushi’s small cottage. “As long as you don’t set anything on fire” was the only requirement, and Dazai thought that sounded reasonable. Atsushi didn’t like fire that much, anyway.

Yosano’s presence wasn’t bad. She and Dazai hadn’t talked much outside of yearly parties or godly get-togethers. Dazai wasn’t a god of the same nature than ran through her veins, but occasionally she seemed to enjoy the same sorts of trickery Dazai did (he suspected all the gods did in secret, except for Kunikida, and that they were all just hypocrites).

Dazai almost fainted when he visited Atsushi only for a great BEAST to sit by his side during the weeks when wild spirits plagued the area, happily being fed small pieces of meat by a euphoric Atsushi.

“But why a dog?” Dazai whined to Yosano who smirked and leaned back in the comforter she was perched upon, fruit and wine on a small table next to it that they both took joy in devouring as fast as possible.

“It was a wolf, and I protect my own, Dazai.” Yosano said.

Dazai snorted.

“If that’s the case how come you didn’t do anything when I sent birds to your village?”

Yosano occupied herself with a pitcher of wine and said nothing.

 …

 Dazai felt tired of lying. The true meaning behind the flowers, except to make Atsushi smile, had been to make him wondering. For Atsushi to figure that Dazai was no simple trader, or even human for that matter.

Next time, Dazai handed Atsushi a bouquet of flowers himself. Instead of inquiring if he could eat them, Atsushi blushed and fussed with putting them in something suitable or hang them up somewhere. Dazai suggested pressing some of them between the pages of a book.

“I don’t have any books,” Atsushi said, and flushed with embarrassment and added, quieter, “I can’t read.”

Dazai brought books together with the next bouquet, and didn’t return to his realm until Atsushi could write both of their names and the name of the flowers Dazai had given him. After he learnt Atsushi to write a full sentence in the sand outside the cottage Atsushi hugged him close for the first time.

The world quivered and golden strings shot through every corner of the woods as the tightly controlled power in Dazai chest and eyes slipped, unravelling the universe as he knew it.

Dazai hugged back and closed his eyes.

He didn’t know how long the stayed like that until Atsushi let go. He gave Dazai a shy smile before standing up and stretched his thin arms – Dazai enjoyed seeing they were bigger than before – up towards the leaf-covered sky. Atsushi clasped his hands behind his back.

“Do you want to go to the river, Dazai-san? It’s not as warm there.”

While the trees gave enough shadow, the air was a little stifling when the sky stood so high in the sky. Dazai agreed, and they walked the short way to the small river that trailed all the way from the mountain, but there bigger and wider, through the village and then through parts of the woods. The water was clear and fresh, so Dazai shouldn’t be surprised when Atsushi crouched and dipped his hand in before looking at Dazai.

Atsushi hesitated. “Want to go for a swim? There’s a place where it’s deeper right over there.”

Dazai leaned towards a tree, not making any attempts at getting closer to the water. “I can’t swim.” He said honestly.

Atsushi gaped and Dazai bit back a grimace. It honestly wasn’t that odd. His domain didn’t include water. If it were dark alleys, lonely libraries and sneaking around roof-tops, then yes. However, Dazai never had a reason for learning how to swim. Should he ever need to then he could simply walk on the water. But apparently this didn’t impress Atsushi – though Dazai didn’t actually try walking on water right now. Didn’t seem like the right time.

“I’ll teach you then!” Atsushi beamed. “In exchange for teaching me how to read, I’ll teach you how to swim!”

Dazai had a perfect excuse, a very palpable one indeed, but then Atsushi made a move to remove his shirt and suddenly the whole idea didn’t seem that bad.

They undressed. Atsushi seemed uncomfortable with his scars, so Dazai didn’t look or ask despite seeing a furiously red-gold string wrapped around his waist, wavering up over Atsushi’s neck. When Dazai looked up, he saw Atsushi eye his chest, something unidentifiable marked on his face before noticing Dazai was watching, then he quickly looked away and focused on removing the rest of his clothes.

The water was cold but Atsushi waded out until it embraced his knees. He looked back to the rock where Dazai was still standing. Atsushi laughed.

“It’s not so bad! Come on, Dazai-san!”

Dazai didn’t doubt that Atsushi clearly exaggerated about the pleasantness of it all, but stepped into the water. Sharp stones dug into his feet but he continued on until he stood with water up to his knees next to Atsushi.

“It’s not that deep here,” Atsushi explained and slowly sank down into the water while walking further away from land, “so you don’t have to worry about drowning.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, I wouldn’t worry about that in any case.”

Atsushi rolled his eyes but didn’t comment, instead gesturing for Dazai to follow him.

They spent the rest of the day’s hottest hours in that river. Atsushi laughed when Dazai gulped down water while trying to strike his long arms through it, but then started stroke his back when he felt guilty over laughing. It felt nice. All in all, learning how to swim with Atsushi was fun.

When it was time to get up, Dazai kicked some water in a surprised Atsushi’s face. It took a couple of seconds before he retaliated, and soon they were in the middle of an intense water fight. With no crowned victor, but laughing and not a hair that wasn’t soaking wet, they climbed up the rocks to let their bodies dry.

Dazai laid down on a smoother rock, Atsushi followed, cleaned it of leaves and dirt before collapsing on it. Facing the sun, it’s wasn’t cold. More like pleasantly cool.

They shouldn’t lay so close to one another; the rock was big enough for space in-between and the water on their skin wouldn’t dry any faster with Atsushi’s shoulder pressed against Dazai’s, his arm against his and pinkies almost laying over each other.

Dazai wouldn’t give this moment away for anything. No matter how precious or powerful.

...

 Dazai sat in his temple. The work was tedious and boring but he made it in silence with only a few breaks that was spent gazing out at the sky.

It had been weeks since that day at the river.

When Dazai returned to his realm, the work had piled up and Kunikida was worked up in a frenzy. Dazai worked through it all alarmingly fast, but more things came his way. After two weeks Dazai considered skipping out on a meeting and visit Yosano’s woods instead.

He couldn’t stop thrumming his fingers against the table, he felt tired and annoyed and had probably scared the servants out of their wits with the dark expression he wore when he didn’t think of schooling it to something else.

How dependable on him have you become? The voice in his head urgently whispered. Being like this makes you weak.

Dazai clicked his tongue and prepared to go see Atsushi the very next day.

He came to the line where the village’s fields ended and the woods started, then he abruptly turned around.

If I go in there now, Dazai frantically thought, I won’t be able to go back.

In the realm, Dazai took on some more work, shocking Kunikida enough that he wondered if Dazai had become possessed, and didn’t leave his temple for another three weeks.

Then he gave up. His head heart and the strange familiarity of his realm was driving him mad.

He ignored his usual way of walking through the woods, shifting until his arms were wings that let him glide through the air. He landed just a couple of metres from where the trees parted to give way for the old cottage and almost didn’t have time shifting back.

“Dazai-san?”

Atsushi had dark circles under his eyes, and Dazai didn’t have time to take on step before Atsushi had crossed the distance between them and thrown himself in Dazai’s arms.

With the contact several weeks of difficulties and doubt just disappeared. Dazai pressed over Atsushi’s waist and back, pulling him as close as possible. He buried his head in his neck and breathed in. Atsushi dropped his head on Dazai’s shoulder, his breath shaky and heavy. When Dazai felt something wet soak through his shirt he raised his head, then immediately pushed their foreheads together when the space between them was just too big.

“What’s the matter?”

Atsushi sniffled and shook his head, tears trickling down his cheeks in a steady stream.

“I’m j-just happy that y-you came back.” He got out, and they were close enough for Dazai to rub their noses against each other.

Atsushi’s eyes were wide and bright yellow when looking up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Dazai whispered, and ran soothing fingers over Atsushi’s arms and back, “I’m sorry, Atsushi-kun, I always meant to return. I always want to return.”

Atsushi’s knees gave away and they both sank down to the ground, still holding on tight and with Atsushi’s head once again on Dazai’s shoulder. Dazai kept sliding his hands over the smooth planes of Atsushi’s body, stopping to feel along his spine, pretending not to notice Atsushi’s shudder.

They sat there until the sky turned darker and you could glimpse stars, and if a human boy kissed a stray god, only they would know.

 …

 Dazai was no stranger to frustration. But this itch under his skin made it hard to focus on anything else than the next possibility he had to sneak out. It is the kind of frustration that would make a normal man mad, Dazai believed. Indeed, his noble and patient self was to be praised.

(Atsushi’s kisses were soft and tender, a little insecurity that was overshadowed by the feelings in each press of his lips)

“Dazai-sama!” The messenger’s voice cut through whatever illusions wrapped around him, and Dazai looked down from his seat to see the wondering, nonplussed stares of the celestial beings under his jurisdiction.

“Continue.” Dazai made a gesture with his hand and the neat messenger hesitantly picked up where he’d dropped off.

“As I said, the people of the cities close to the Northern border are…”

It rains a lot close to that border, I wonder if Atsushi likes rain? Dazai zoned out again, picturing Atsushi with his head tipped back to meet the rain with a smile. Or he would shiver. Clothes too thin to protect from the cold.

Dazai leaned on one hand and unconsciously frowned, to the persons in the room’s growing unease.

I should get him a coat or something. Something warm. It’s usually quite warm in Yosano’s area this time of the year, but still…

The messenger tuned out, aware that he no longer held the god’s attention.

 …

 Kunikida, quite literally, tied him to his chair when the preparations for the spring celebration started.

“Work.” He hissed and gestured with his book, close and hard enough to almost poke out Dazai’s right eye. “You have, no matter how promiscuous and informal, a duty towards your followers. So you will sit here, receive their prayers and gifts, and you will look happy about it.”

Dazai sagged back in his chair and bemoaned his sad fate.

Three nights later he laid in Atsushi’s bed, pressed close with no barriers. They weren’t sleeping, instead they listened to the distant thunder and Dazai imagined it to be Kunikida raging when he found out about the doll sitting in his temple receiving the people’s prayers.

 …

 It was a visit like many others.

Atsushi had asked him to stay.

“Don’t go.” Whispered against his lips, and Dazai was weak.

He left light kisses over Atsushi’s collarbone, over his chest and down to his stomach, relishing in the healthy bulge just under his navel. He pressed one last kiss on a thigh and asked Atsushi what he wanted, what could he do?

Dazai had certainly done this before, yet his hands shook as he pressed them against scorching skin. The night outside the cottage felt light and fleeting. When morning came Dazai would have to leave. He displaces that piece of information the same time he buries his head under Atsushi’s shin and push his lips at the point where the pulse beats the hardest, and kisses it in tandem with his heartbeat.

Dazai-san,” Atsushi said instead of answering his question, cupped Dazai face and inched closer, “that first time I saw you, you were glowing.”

And there is such warmth in his eyes, in the colour on his cheeks.

“It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I’m so happy that I got to know you.”

Dazai lets out a sharp breath, hugging Atsushi close and enjoying his warmth, his scent. It muffled the noise in his mind and relaxed his muscles.

“I love you.”

Ah, and there was that. Hearing it made his ears ring, a little. The response easy and well thought out yet impossible to say.

I love you.

I adore you.

To me, you seem like life itself, and that is dangerous for a god.

“You,” Dazai says instead, “I’ve never met anyone as stunning as you. Almost as soon as I met you I’ve…”

Atsushi sighed and finally hugged back. One hand clasped on Dazai’s back and the other tangled in his hair.

The night was young, the night was long. Never long enough. In the bright morning Dazai held Atsushi close. Cuddled together, they could ignore the world for a while, pretending they were the only ones there.

 …

 Kunikida found out. Finally. Regrettably. About time. When Dazai reached him Kunikida had already left, and Atsushi already stood in the door, looking at him with an unusually blank face.

“I’m-”

“You’re a god.” A question? No, an acknowledgment of facts.

Dazai nodded, anyway. Atsushi stared, he stared back. Waiting. Awaiting a reaction; a goodbye, tears, questions, anything, but Atsushi just met Dazai’s eyes, unblinking. Then he sighed and seemed to sag a little.

“Oh, gods.” He mumbled, and that is almost funny.

“I should’ve known,” he said and now it was Dazai’s turn to wonder, “you… being you, doing strange things, fantastic things-“

He stopped himself and shook his head, mumbling “never saw you pee or anything either.”

Dazai can’t really help laughing at that. “That’s what made you wonder? Not the flowers, the many visits, the glowing?”

Atsushi blushed, and it was so much better than the blank look he had before.

“I thought they were happy coincidences!”

Dazai chuckles but can’t help but wonder: what now? Atsushi seemed to think the same thing, because he pushed himself of the doorframe and entered the cottage.

“Let’s get inside, I still have some tea left from when your… friend… visited.”

Dazai felt something akin to hope echo in his chest and took a step closer. “You mean I can stay?”

“Of course, of course you can stay.” Atsushi reaches out and takes a hold of his hand, features softening into a familiar smile that was only a little smaller than usual.

“We’ll talk. About… about this and-“

“About what to do now?”

Atsushi nodded, and pulled Dazai in to serve him some tea. “Yes. About what to do now.”

  ...

 Legends, old stories mixed with new ones, says that one of the Eastern Gods; the one for the strays, the thieves, the cunning, and the intelligent keeps a familiar by his side. A great and powerful white tiger with glowing eyes and sharp teeth.

The legends don’t tell much about it, for there isn’t much written or remembered about the stray god either. But one thing is always mentioned.

And that is that you never see one without the other.

To pay worship to the sun is to pay worship to the moon.

[scarlet-nin]

DazaixHappiness week Day 1: Flowers

 „Are you comfortable down there?”

Not bothering to open his eye, he hums. With the sun intent on caressing him in a heated embrace due to the blackness of his clothes he doesn’t find the wind bothersome. Like ripples across the river, the breeze brushes the heat away.

It’s the shadow falling over him, casting a shield from the dangers of the sun to the tender skin on his face, which makes his eye open. The sight greeting him is far brighter than the rays of the sun.

“Careful not to get sunburnt in this weather.”

Eyes bluer than the sky, clear without white clouds hiding the view, seem to crinkle in the drowning warmth of a gaze he’s all too familiar with. It’s hard not to grin back into the face looming above his, so he doesn’t try to hide the smile tugging his lips upwards.

“Dying of a heat stroke isn’t on my agenda today, Odasaku. That’s too plain. Also, it infers with my ability to think, so that’s also a big no.”

Dazai pets the grass, soft and easy to sink into with a hand. Oda sinks down next to him, not laying down but sitting with his legs crossed. He doesn’t bother to ask how his friend found him, finding the detail unnecessary in favor of savoring the company of a man brighter than the color of the spring surrounding them.

It’s too bad, he thinks, only having one eye free of coverage. Otherwise he’d get to sort out all the different shades of red shining through russet locks easier, naming a few that come to mind. Beige coat too light for the tanned skin visible, a pleasant contrast to look at.

“That’s good.”

Oda says it like he means it, Dazai knows he does just like every other word but it never fails to amaze him. An honesty unlike any other free of judgement. He reaches up to unbutton his jacket, loosening the tie in the process. Breathing feels easier this way even though wearing his ties reminded him more of a noose than a piece of fashion.

“I did come here to try out another suicide method! But it doesn’t appear to be working.”

Dazai pouts as he lunges forward with his upper body to mirror Oda’s seating style. Their knees brush neither pointing out how close they sit.

“How unfortunate for you. To have to endure this kind of weather all on your own after such a disappointment, it’s a good thing I found my way here to keep you company.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” Puffing out his cheeks, Dazai huffs as he glances around the colorful ray of flowers. “You’re mean, Odasaku. After I showed you my coffin too!”

“Coffin?”

“Yeah!”

At the slow blink of his friend Dazai grins as he gestures to where he had been laying before.

“Death by breathing in poisonous flowers! That way, the sweet aroma would have put me to sleep and I’d never would have woken up again. Nobody would have to leave flowers on my grave too, since they’re already here.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but none of the flowers here are in any way poisonous.”

Dazai sighs, nodding. He’s known after twenty minutes of dozing off like this. Putting his head on his hand he glares at the flowers. Maybe if he stares long enough, they might combust and turn into poisonous gas.

Five minutes later, no such luck then.

“Here.”

“What?”

“You said the flowers are here, but since you didn’t die, I’ll give you one to take with you instead.”

Oda smiles, slipping the flower behind his ear. It’s a shade of violet and blue, dark purple veins spreading across the petals shaped like a bell.

Dazai is glad he took of his tie. Otherwise he might have suffocated now.

 “Well, that’s no fair! If I get a flower from Odasaku, then he has to get one from me! Or better a whole crown. I couldn’t choose a single flower here, so you’ll have to put up with lots of them.”

 He’s already picking out flowers, careful not to jostle the one behind his ear as he chooses different shades. Oda nods, helping to pick out a bunch as Dazai starts to work on binding them together. It’s harder than he thought. But he’s good with his fingers and he’s got enough pieces of small wires on him for lock-picking so he manages to make one.

 “There! Not my best work, but it’ll have to do until I can make a better one someday.”

 Despite the way it looks, some petals falling off from harsh tugging, no real pattern to the different shades of white, red and yellow, Oda wears it without protest. He looks ridiculous, crown too small and unruly. It doesn’t match the calmness of his face.

Dazai snorts as Oda inclines his head, careful not to jostle the fragile mess of flowers of his head as his lips form a smile.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Only you would think so,” Dazai laughs, tempted to take a photo knowing his friend wouldn’t mind. “Say, how do you feel about—"

“Dazai!”

“What?!”

Whining as he raises a hand to shield his eyes from the sun or the fiery scowl sent his way as he squints up to get his eyes to focus, he resists the urge to yawn. Shades of red fade into a sunny blonde just like the sky fades into a steely grey. Kunikida’s upside down face glaring down at him.

“We’ve been trying to wake you up for the last five minutes and you didn’t even twitch! Get out of your vest before you die of a heat stroke and eat something.”

Before he can do so much as open his mouth there’s a tuna sandwich thrown at his face which he manages to catch in time. Pushing himself up to unwarp it, he takes a large bite out of it to appease Yosano’s scrutiny.

Right. Today was a day off for all of them. One to relax while having fun and doing something normal for once. The very reason why Kunikida insisted on sleeping on his couch and dragged him into the car with a warning that if he should try to disappear, they’d declare it a fair hunting game for all of the Agency with a prize on his head.

Not wanting to spent his day running as much fun as it might be to grate on Kunikida’s nerves he’d been obedient so far. Taking the time to lay down in the shade as soon as they came to the spot Fukuzawa had chosen to do their picknick.

A large field of flowers with enough space for Kenji to go run about, or Atsushi should he desire to do so. There’s the gentle trickling of a river near them, one he had been forbidden from jumping into much to his dismay and the soft buzz of bees having seduced him to rest his eyes for a few minutes. Thankful for the large tree giving them coverage from the heat of the unforgiving sun, he yawns. He truly must have been tired then. To sleep like this in the mist of their chattering.

“You’ll finish that later.”

Yosano’s voice is firm as she takes the half-eaten sandwich back into the basket by her side. Dazai nods, knowing it’s a losing battle to try to argue his way out. He finds he doesn’t really want to with the edge of sleep hovering over his mind like a cloud above his head.

“You three, don’t wander too far. Also, be careful of your surroundings. If you manage to spill our tea with your game, you’ll be on paperwork duty for the next week.”

“Listen to the mother-hen,” Dazai grins only to wince when Kunikida elbows him into the side. He wheezes. “Now off you go before he decides to give you the talk about talking to strangers too!”

Kyouka, Kenji and Atsushi scurry off, Naomi and Tanizaki on their heels as they engage in a sporty game of tag.

“It’s way too hot for this kind of thing.”

“How aren’t you melting?”

Ranpo narrows his eyes as he keeps fanning himself with the fan Kunikida made him. Dazai shrugs, not bothering to answer as he finally tugs off his vest. Ranpo huffs, turning back to his game of chess with Fukuzawa as Yosano and Kunikida share a cup of sake.

Dazai lets his gaze wander from the game to overlook the field. A habit fit to his former occupation. He doesn’t let his gaze focus on anything for too long. He sees Atsushi trip into the river as Tanizaki vanishes into green snow. It’s enough to let a smile flash across his face as he hears the boy spluttering and hissing like a wet cat as he yells about the topic of cheating before he’s aware of the way his fingers drum on the top of his knees.

He’s restless. Startled into sudden awareness might do that to a Mafia Executive but he can’t blame Kunikida for his temper any more than he could have blamed Chuuya back in their days. If anything, it’s his own fault for falling asleep so quickly and so deeply.

He doesn’t pay attention to the game he knows Fukuzawa will lose in five turns, he glances at Kunikida, who narrows his eyes at him in suspicion before he turns back to Yosano.

Dazai snorts at the wariness his silence has caused before his fingers start picking out flowers. He’s careful in his choice, collecting them in his lap before his fingers start to work as his mind wanders.

His work is neater this time around. Bigger too. His choice of colors is different, softer in their pastel shades than the vibrant ones he’d used before. He’s braiding and tying stems together. Adding a flower when he deems fit only to twist the stem of the additional one over the other so they end up over the left and middle one.

“Woah, that’s so pretty Mister Dazai!”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Not aware that the game of tag has been cut short, he waves the finished product of his nimble work around like a bouquet. Kyouka and Atsushi come to sit beside him, their eyes stuck on the arrangement of flowers he’s bound together.

“I’d say it’s a crown for the Queen of the Agency, but Kunikida-kun is such a grump! So, he’ll need this over anyone else to make him prettier.”

Dazai puts the crown on Kunikida’s head whose protests are drowned out by Dazai clapping his hands like a child after seeing a good theater play made of dolls.

Hands empty, he finds it easier to look at the crown on Kunikida’s head, who growls and crosses his arms but leaves it be than having it in his hands.

“I want one too! But with other flowers. You better make it just as good if not greater than your first one.”

Ranpo demands, looking sullen as he leans against the base of the tree. Knowing better than to reject any wish of the man Dazai rises to his feet to collect new flowers. Kyouka, Atsushi and Kenji are more than willing to help him pick them out.

“Can you teach me?”

“Me too, please!”

“Can you do other stuff with flowers too?”

“Of course! But I don’t have any more pieces of wire to make more. If only my ability couldn’t cancel yours, Kunikida-kun.”

Kunikida rolls his eyes but takes his pen and notebook out. Soon enough, he’s showing the rest of the Agency with exception of Fukuzawa, Yosano and Ranpo, who preens with his chest puffed out and head held high about his new choice of hat wear how to make crowns, necklaces and other things with the flowers they pick out.

At this rate there might not be any left.

“No, no Kunikida-kun. You’re tying this wrong.”

“What? What am I doing wrong? I tied it just the way you said!”

“Look, brother, now we have a matching set!”

“Not so close, Naomi.” Tanizaki flushes as she snuggles up his arms, nearly sitting on his lap.

“You need to tie it this way around—”

Dazai makes a motion with his hand, gently pulling the stem the other way around before holding it out for Kunikida to take.

“—see? This way it later won’t be all that visible underneath the wire and it won’t fall apart.”

Atsushi fumbles with his crown as Kyouka puts her necklace around his neck before she reaches out to help him adjust his flowers in a braid pattern.

“Who taught you to make those?”

“There are some things in this world which don’t need to be taught. Or perhaps, I’m just a natural with my hands?”

Dazai winks as Kunikida hits him over the head, giving him a warning glance as his eyes stray over to where Kenji was sitting, drinking a glass of cold kept milk.

“Kunikida, don’t aim for the head, he needs that. Everything else is fair game.”

Ranpo chides, stuffing his face with sweet bread they’ve brought on their way here. Dazai gasps, all dramatic antics as he puts a hand on his chest and makes himself comfortable against the branch of their tree.

“How rude! What would the good Doctor say about you injuring me?”

“She’d say to keep that up if you want to go to the hospital.”

Yosano says, voice dry but amusement making her face look softer as she tugs a piece of hair behind her ear. She holds out a water bottle towards him. The cold water washes down his throat as refreshing as a jump into the river would have been.

“This should be a more regular occurrence.”

Fukuzawa’s voice is soothing. Not the sickening sweet tenor Dazai knows from Mori. Both powerful men in their own rights, but he finds the sentimental values of the Director far more pleasant than the logical reasonings to Mori’s purposes.

The President’s face is harsh and he’s nowhere near soft but he’s kind.

A difference Dazai’s willing to fight for.

“That could be arranged if it wasn’t for the nutcases running around our city and someone in this group that seems it fit to disappear whenever he likes it.”

At Ranpo’s pointed glance his way, Dazai crosses his arms and starts to whistle. He fools no one, but they let the topic slide in favor of Kenji pointing out the different shapes of the clouds in the sky, starting to appear.

He chimes in when he finds it necessary. The slight dampness of his bandages is gross, but nothing he hasn’t endured before. It’s odd. Spending a day like this.

“I’ll go and see if I can catch some fish in the river!”

“No—wait, Kenji don’t.”

Kunikida trips, steading himself just in time as he runs after the boy. Knowing they’d have to gut the fish if they wanted to eat them and it’d be just a mess. Dazai grins, rising to his feet only to sneak up on his partner to push him into the river.

“Dazai!”

The water is shallow, but Kunikida’s soaked through. He’s almost jealous. Jumping in with only the layers he’s got on his person would mean the bandages would unravel, so he dances out of the way of Kunikida’s attempt to tackle him into the water in his fury as he crackles.

“Someone needs to get this on video! Kunikida-kun looks like a drowned kitten! All hissing and spitting. All I did was give you a way to refresh yourself. You should learn to relax a little.”

“I’ll drown you, get back here, waste of bandages!”

“No way~.”

They stop their violent game of tag when Kunikida’s face gets red enough to rival the shade of Tanizaki’s hair. Dazai grins at him when they drive back a few hours later before asking to be set off quite a long walk away from the dorms.

“Ah, no tries at another suicide attempt, I know. I just remembered I had to do something today. A lady to take out, that kind of stuff Kunikida-kun knows nothing about. See you guys tomorrow!”

He shuts the car door to their curious faces and Kunikida’s cry of outrage before he could try to lunge out of the car to strangle him and waves as they drive off.

 Colors of orange, red and yellow melting into a shower of molten gold. The light filtering through the trees casts a glow of light onto the grey tomb. He settles down against it like he always does. Back leaning against the stone, face set to stare off into the distant sunset as he places a single crown of flowers onto the grave.

“This one looks much nicer than the others, don’t you think?”

There’s no answer. He doesn’t need one for he already knows it.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”  

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@dazaixhappinessweek2k19