Chapter Text
Dazai looked at the clock with pure hatred. It had hit midnight, and it was now officially his least favourite month: September. And now, he would have to spend a month—a whole damn 30 days, 720 hours, 43200 minutes, 2592000 seconds without trying to kill himself, all because of a Suicide Prevention Month advertisement and a stupid bet with Mori.
“That bitch. That coward!” he exclaimed. “How and I supposed to spend this long without attempting suicide? Not even a single try? What if I find an ideal opportunity to die peacefully? When will I ever find such perfect circumstances again? What if… what if I find a pretty woman to shinju with?!” he whined dramatically and paced angrily in his room.
Oda, sitting on his bed, listened not-so-patiently.
“Well, I think this is a good opportunity for you to… rethink? I’m not sure. I mean, when you’re not spending all your spare time trying to find dumb ways to die, you have… a lot… of free time. Maybe try to do something actually useful with it?” he suggested with a tired look.
But Dazai looked even angrier. “Nonononononono! You don’t get it! Even if I don’t think about all of the missed opportunities — I can go like 4,5 days, fine or whatever, but a whole—”
“The kids at the orphanage would sure love to meet you.” Oda interrupted him.
Dazai looked flabbergasted for being interrupted in the middle of his theatrical rage speech.
“Or you could learn to cook curry for me. Or you could write a book. Or you could go make art. You know, I could spend hours listing things you theoretically ‘could’ do, but I’m not here to play your nonexistent mother.” There was a pause. “‘Sides, why did you even agree to this bet if you say you can’t do it? Pretty dumb coming from the so-called genius Demon Prodigy.”
Dazai froze, his eyes wide from the insult.
“Excuse me?! I am a genius! An unmatched strategist! A master of psychological warfare!”
Oda looked at him blankly. “So, what happened?”
Dazai sighed, sat down and started explaining with the most pissed face Oda’s ever seen.
“I was at Mori’s office, discussing next week’s deals, running errands and other boring stuff when he probably noticed me zoning out for the thousandth time and decided to play ‘daddy’. He explained that September was Suicide Prevention Month or whatever and how he wanted to start a mental health initiative for Mafia members (like he'd ever care about that) and really needed me to cooperate by not trying to kill myself… at least for the month. And I'm 100% sure he made that up just for me. Anyways, I obviously said no — what the hell was he thinking? — but he went oh-so-superior on me and told me ‘He already expected such reaction from me’” Dazai rolled his eyes. “So, he proposed me a deal: I don’t attempt suicide for the month and I get a paid week off.”
“And did you —”
“Of course not!”
They were silent for a moment.
“Then, how in the world did you get into this?” Oda asked persistently.
He sighed. “Ugh. Don’t even tell me about it. Yesterday, Mori called me at 3 A.M. right after I had taken a bunch of melatonin and somehow got me to agree. I wasn’t even legally awake!” Dazai whined again.
"You’re never legally awake. Now I know why he kept asking me to check up on you all day. Why couldn't he put someone like Chuuya on babysitting duty?”
“That angry chihuahua? No, no, no.. I refuse to!” Dazai said, throwing himself dramatically onto the floor.
Oda didn’t even look down. “Could’ve fooled me, considering the whole suicide obsession.”
“Not funny, Oda!” he shouted from the ground, sprawled like a corpse auditioning for a crime scene photo. “This is the worst kind of torture. I bet even Hell has more considerate staff.”
Oda looked at his watch and realized it was 12:20 A.M. He pinched the bridge of his nose and said: “You’ve been like this for twenty minutes. I’m already regretting not just shooting you myself.”
Dazai perked up slightly, eyes hopeful. “Would you?! Truly, Oda? You’d —”
“No.”
Oda stood up and grabbed his coat. “Come on. I told Ango we’d be at Lupin at 12 and it’s already 12:20. Maybe he’ll convince you to shut up.”
“Or kill me,” Dazai muttered under his breath as he followed, dragging himself dramatically. “Oh, Ango, sweet angel of mercy, please bring a gun…”