Chapter Text
Edgar held back a chuckle at the other’s comment. The sight of Dazai’s face, whose well-constructed mask failed to hide the unease lurking beneath, stopped him before he could even open his mouth.
“I take it you weren’t a fan of the story, huh?” A tentative thing, his voice was, Edgar’s face forming a meager imitation of a smile. He instinctively reached up to push some hair out of his face, as he usually did during important conversations, so the other person knew he was being genuine, only to be met with air. Ah, right . Seeing Dazai so clearly upset while hiding his identity made Poe feel a bit uncomfortable. In what appeared to be heading towards an honest and significant conversation, he was hiding the most important thing about himself. He wasn’t made to dwell on his guilt as Dazai quickly brought attention back to himself, a talent of his, Poe soon noticed.
“No, although, if you haven’t noticed by the constant mention of suicide, I’ve never been known for liking myself,” he joked humorlessly, ”or, in this case, what a self-righteous prick thinks I’m like.” Ire was evident in his face and voice, he sent the coldest glare he could to Edgar.
“Dazai, please, this isn’t coming from a place of self-righteousness or whatever you may be thinking.” De-escalating the situation before it could get heated, he continued, “I-I just—I could see that you were a bit closed off in our conversations and, well…
“To put it bluntly, I could see some of myself in you.” He was struggling to think of what to say, unusually at a loss for words despite his occupation. “Not too long ago, I was in a pretty dark place, shutting myself off from the outside world and spending my days trapped in filth and liquor. I had lost to someone in a competition, and as stupid as it sounds in retrospect, I felt as if I had lost value that I somehow had to regain by proving myself.
“Locking yourself away from others and drowning in your delusions and self-deprecation doesn’t help you.” Poe let out a deep sigh, “You don’t want to be held back by your past, you can’t ever change if you don’t think you deserve to.” Throat dry, partially from speaking so much and partially out of anxiousness at how Dazai would respond, Poe went silent as he let the other contemplate his advice.
Dazai was silent for a while, face blank and unreadable. The only indication that he had any feelings regarding the conversation was the clenched fist placed on the bar counter. “Don’t you think it’s a bit hypocritical of you to say that when you’re actively hiding yourself from me ?” A dark smile appeared on his face that failed to reach his eyes, sending a chilling shiver down Poe’s spine, which he barely suppressed.
“I…No, you’re right, I guess it wouldn’t be very fair of me to expect you to take the advice of a man who’s too much of a coward to be honest as well.” He chuckles dryly as he makes quick work of his contacts, placing them back in the case he kept in his pocket, “Uncomfortable things, these were anyway.”
Dazai could swear he had seen those eyes somewhere before, a stormy gray with hints of pale lavender, but he couldn’t place a name to them. Until the other tried to put on a pleasant smile and extended his hand in greeting.
“Nice to meet you, Dazai Osamu, I am Edgar Allan Poe,” he clasped the detective’s hand in a handshake as he saw the other start to grin. Good , he thought, that expression fits him more than the scowl he wore a while ago .
“I can’t even lie, I was not expecting you to be Ranpo’s friend from the Guild,” he let out a weak chuckle, although his smile was quickly fading, “though, I’m not quite sure what I was expecting either.”
More important than the fact that the whole friendship was practically built on a lie was the fact that the poet and author he’d respected for so many years was the crazy goth dude who had worse social skills than a raccoon. Not only that, but Edgar always seemed more confident in himself than Poe, despite their interactions being few and far between, since Poe always ran away from him. Sure, he’d still been a bit reserved and soft-spoken at times, but never as much as the former Guild member appeared to be.
Dazai realized with a scowl that Edgar—he wasn’t sure whether to call him Poe or not—must have somehow figured out about his former Port Mafia affiliation. He must have considered them similar because they had both previously been criminals. And…Well, Dazai would be a liar (ignoring the fact he already is one) if he said that the blinding goodness of the Agency never irked him. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his family (can he call them that?) and how they strive to do good, but it’s hard to see how easily altruism comes to them when Dazai has done terrible things that he struggles to separate himself from.
Kyouka may have been a part of the mafia as well, but she had never wanted to become the monster that those who held power over her turned her into. “The 35-count Murderess.” Really, despite the lives she took, which any normal person would consider incorrigible acts, she was always good at heart and never truly fell to the dark side. She wanted to do good. She left just for that reason. She felt guilty. She valued human life.
Dazai had killed without remorse, he still finds it hard to hold guilt for any of his past actions. He knows it was wrong, that he didn’t have the right to decide when a person’s life should come to its end. He was a bratty teenager who thought a gun was a toy and believed that he couldn’t be lumped in with those he viewed as completely different beings. Odasaku’s death was the only moment when he felt the guilt and regret of it all, because finally, he was on the side of those who had lost loved ones. He valued a single human life at the time, and only when he lost Oda did he realize that what he was doing affected people.
He felt truly human in that moment. In all their weakness, in all the love that they hold for one another, for family.
Gaping like a fish, he struggled air down his trachea as he made a pathetic attempt at speaking. A few more moments passed before a word was uttered, Poe giving Osamu all the time he needed to process the information. Finally, “How are we anything alike? Other than our criminal pasts. Plus, you chose to betray the Guild. You chose good, for no other reason than being good—“
“Dazai, please, don’t delude yourself. I chose to ‘betray’ the Guild because I was acting for entirely selfish and petty reasons. I never believed I would lose to Ranpo.” A beat passed by as Dazai let out another dry chuckle. “Well, no, I guess that’s a lie. I prayed and hoped that I could prove once and for all that I was better, but deep down, I think I knew that no matter the outcome of that day, I would come out as the loser. The one who spent years of his life trying to feed his ego and became a hermit, obsessed with a man he’d met once. Planning his death in intricate schemes every day, in the hope that I could somehow outsmart him.
“Sure, I didn’t care for the Guild’s plan, but I didn’t care if Yokohama got destroyed as long as I could be the better detective.” Dazai’s face morphed into one of realization when he recognized those words. They were the same words that he often said in the Port Mafia.
”Who cares that people are dying? It’s just my job, and I’m good at it!”
Osamu began speaking again, “The story you wrote, it’s not wrong,” he admitted. “I mean, not even counting how many times the Agency offered me help, when you tried to, just a moment ago, I immediately deflected.”
His face displayed a frown, one filled with self-loathing and hurt, “ I’m not worth it .”
Before Poe could interject, Osamu looked down at the wooden counter and continued speaking, “I…I left the Port Mafia for a friend. It was his dying wish for me to be a good man. If I ever got the chance to meet him again, I’m not confident that I could say I became one.”
Poe gently placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder and tried to get Dazai to look at him. He doesn’t know why Dazai believes himself unworthy so adamantly, no one was expecting that he’d somehow atone for his many sins. Edgar has killed people, many people, and continuously supported a terrorist organization, playing a big part in it. He’ll never be able to make up for the lives that were lost, the families that had to come home to the fact that they’ll never see one of their loved ones again. But Dazai is actively trying to improve, being a part of the ADA and saving people daily.
“I don’t know your friend,” Dazai’s dark eyes finally made contact with Poe’s, “but I doubt he would have ever been as harsh on you as you are on yourself. Listen, I know what you’ve done in the past is horrendous, and you should never forget or ignore that, but you’re moving forward and learning from your mistakes.”
It was then that Dazai cut him off, “But am I, really? Who says that I can’t just pick up a gun and go on a killing spree?”
“I doubt the old Dazai would be asking that question with such guilt and shame instead of just doing it. This is my point: you know what you’ve done is wrong, and you’re trying to prevent it, trying to protect people instead. I won’t speak for your friend, but I’d be pretty happy seeing that.”
He tried his best to offer a reassuring smile as he said one final thing, “You’re worthy of saving Dazai, it can happen if you just let it. And you leaving the mafia proved that, you took someone’s advice, the hand that they lent you, and look at you now. A detective, a hero.”
Dazai’s face seemed to brighten, but not by much. However, Poe could see the understanding flood his eyes, although acceptance was fighting hard to win over the other swirling emotions holding it down.
When he opened his mouth, Poe was ready to reaffirm his faith in Dazai, but it was found unnecessary. “More like hero-ish. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here…But thank you.”
The next few moments passed in comfortable silence until Dazai called over the waiter to order a drink, “I’m gonna need one after this conversation. It’s probably going to keep me a while.”
“That’s fine, I’ll just stay here,” he turned to face the shelves lining the bar’s wall, “take all the time you need.”