Chapter Text
An early morning shift was rare for you. Typically, you worked either the mid-shift or overnight. Morning shifts, you supposed, could be considered a rare treat if not for one major issue.
Tanaka.
His presence made work a million times more stressful and, even worse, he had the most energy in the mornings.
The amount of green tea he drank had to be the equivalent of at least four shots of espresso, and it turned him into an absolute monster. If Tanaka had a whip, you would have been the victim of it multiple times today.
Someone cleared their throat behind you, making you jump. You turned around, and the devil himself was standing behind you.
Tanaka handed you several boxes.
“Stock these.”
You silently walked away, carefully balancing the boxes in your arms. There was no point in asking Tanaka for further details. It was better to open the box somewhere out of his sight and figure out where everything went from there.
When you opened the first box and saw what was inside, you paused.
Bandages.
It made sense. Tanaka must have finally received a shipment to replace all the bandages Dazai had swooped in and bought.
It had already been a week since the bomb incident. The time had gone by quickly, most of it spent doing exactly what you were doing now: working.
Truthfully, you hadn’t given the situation much thought beyond a moment or two before bed each night. It was easier to avoid the topic altogether than to try to piece together how you felt about the whole thing.
Even Haruka hadn’t followed up on the situation the last time she saw you. Maybe she’d simply assumed from your general vibe—and the complete lack of any mention of Dazai—that you’d taken her warning seriously.
Which, yes, maybe she had been right. A little bit. But technically, so had you.
Dazai was a detective, after all.
There was no point in explaining that to her. You doubted Haruka would interpret any of that situation as proof that you’d been right. It’d only lower her opinion of Dazai—and you—even further.
It was a cruel thing, really, to be right but unable to brag about it.
A heavy sigh left your lips. You seriously didn’t want to think about it, but as you stocked the bandages, you couldn’t stop.
You felt silly and naive for thinking Dazai, in all his weirdness, was just trying to be your friend. Just because you had simple motives didn’t mean everyone around you did. Right when you thought you were finally beginning to make a real connection here, the rug was pulled out from underneath you. Now you felt even more out of your depth than before.
You shoved a package on the shelf with a bit more force than necessary.
The idea of someone like you getting caught up in a bomb threat was incomprehensible. The fact that Dazai had used you as bait to lure out a crazy stalker still didn’t feel real.
Haruka had been right. Yokohama was a dangerous place full of bad people, and although she never quite said this part out loud, you weren’t suited for an environment like this.
The experience also left you paranoid about the people around you. You couldn’t help but side-eye customers or people on the street. That woman had looked so normal. Well, beyond the sunglasses, at least.
You’d always imagined criminals would look distinct or odd somehow, kinda like in cartoons. Realizing that a normal-looking person could be capable of something like that was eye-opening. How could you not start questioning all the people around you?You paused. A realization hit you like a brick to the head.
Dazai, as far as you knew, was a local. He’d probably been living here for years, maybe even his whole life. Not only that, but he worked for the Armed Detective Agency.
After the incident, despite not wanting to think about it, curiosity had gotten the better of you and you’d looked into the organization.
The Armed Detective Agency was known for handling crimes too violent or dangerous for even the police. Apparently, many of its members possessed supernatural abilities that made them uniquely capable of dealing with cases beyond the reach of ordinary law enforcement. That was about the extent of the public’s knowledge. The organization was notoriously mysterious.
Still, most people seemed grateful to have them in the city, even if they didn’t fully understand what the Agency actually did.
If one event like the bomb was enough to completely change your perspective on life, what would a whole career spent facing things like that do to someone?
Dazai had been calm as a cucumber throughout the whole thing. It had been child’s play to him.
For something like that to feel like nothing, what else had Dazai experienced in his career?
You couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrific things that he was probably sent out to deal with on a daily basis. There was no way a job like that could leave someone unchanged.
That scheming, manipulative behavior of his was probably necessary to deal with criminals so nefarious that not even the city police could stop them. After years of dealing with such dangerous people every day, perhaps acting like that had simply become second nature to him. Maybe he couldn’t turn it off anymore, even when he wasn’t working.
Kinda like how you couldn’t walk into another convenience store without judging its presentation and cleanliness compared to your own.
If living here could make its detectives this twisted, was everyone else who lived here doomed to turn into a crazy and bad-spirited individual, too? In six months, maybe you’d also be the type of woman to send fake bombs to bars in an attempt to make a man become devoted to you.
What if that was your fate here?
You stared blankly at the now perfectly stocked shelf in front of you. It was time to move on to stocking the next section, but you couldn’t find the energy to do it.
“Granny, I don’t see any melon ones!”
A young girl and her grandma stood in front of the refrigerator section of the store. The girl, who couldn’t have been older than seven, was staring at the ramune drinks, pouting sadly.
Melon ramune was especially popular in the middle of summer. It was pretty hard to keep on the shelves.
The girl’s grandma patted her shoulder and pointed to a different flavor.
“We will have to just settle for something else, dear.”
“But melon is our favorite, and we walked all the way here for it…”
You listened as the grandma tried to hype up the other flavors to her granddaughter, although it wasn’t very convincing. It was obvious she was disappointed too. The older woman wasn’t in the best of shape. She was leaning heavily on her cane.
Biting your lip, you looked at the boxes Tanaka had left you with. Surely one of them was a shipment of ramune. You opened them quickly. You had to find out before they left. Finally, on the third one, you struck gold.
A smile graced your lips for the first time today as you grabbed two bottles.
“Excuse me! Were you looking for this?” you called out, catching their attention. You held up the two bottles of melon ramune.
The girl’s eyes practically sparkled in happiness as she cheered, “Yes!”
The grandma gave you a small but deeply appreciative smile.
“We are both so very thankful, miss. Right, Hana?”
“Thank you very much, ma’am!” The two of them bowed slightly to you and headed over to the register.
As you stocked the rest of the drinks, you glanced out the window. The two of them were smiling happily as they opened their drinks. The grandma laughed at her granddaughter’s dramatic display of joy after the first sip. The two continued to chat and smile as they slowly walked away.
You went back to stocking, suddenly filled with energy. You couldn’t seem to stop smiling, either.
The truth was, you could sit here and try to understand Dazai’s motives all day, but you simply didn’t know him well enough to say anything for certain. Trying to guess was just going to make you crazy.
And standing around looking at every stranger suspiciously wasn’t making you any safer, either.
For as many crazy people as there were in this city, there were also plenty of normal people just living their lives, day by day, just like you. The bomb situation didn’t have to be the thing that broke you. It could just be a lesson, a reminder to be more careful and use better judgment.
You grabbed the empty box and walked toward the back door to toss it in the recycling bin, your steps feeling lighter than they had in days.
By the time your shift ended that afternoon, your spirits were high.
It was really ironic that Tanaka had inadvertently helped you work through what had been bothering you. You practically skipped your way to the bar. Just days ago, it had been a place you’d been avoiding for fear of seeing Dazai.
Now?
You couldn’t care less.
Besides, what were the odds of actually running into him again?
Probably pretty high, considering your luck lately.
Still, you weren’t going to let that stop you. You’d survived a fake bomb, a stalker, and an entire week of questioning your sanity. Surely you could survive one drink at the bar.
Walking in, there was Dazai, sitting in your usual spot.
Huh.
Apparently, your instincts were correct. Maybe you should take up betting on racehorses.
You wondered when the bar by your apartment had stopped being a place you went to drink alone and started becoming somewhere you expected to see a familiar face.
Clearly, he felt no shame whatsoever about your last interaction. Somehow, that was even less shocking than seeing him sitting there.
Still, you found yourself settling next to him anyway.
“Oh, look. We both just happened to be here at the same time. Must be fate.”
“I doubt anything involving you has anything to do with something as random as fate.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about the bomb thing.”
“No, I’m not upset.”
Dazai blinked at you, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
“Is it because, secretly, you’ve wanted to die alongside me but were too shy to admit it?”
You took a moment to roll your eyes at him before responding.
“It’s like…” You paused, trying to find the right words. “Being annoyed at cicadas making noise at night. Or an old person walking too slow on the sidewalk.”
“What?” Dazai blurted out, looking at you with genuine confusion.
How annoying. He was the super-smart detective, how did he not understand?
“Pointless. Clearly, that is how your mind works and who you are. A schemer. You can’t help it. I guess I should just be thankful you planned it all in a way I didn’t get hurt.”
Dazai’s smile went strangely still. It took him half a moment longer than usual to respond.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d be so angry you’d strangle me right here at the bar.” He let out a mournful sigh. “It would’ve been the perfect way to go. Death by a beautiful lady’s hands.”
“Wow, that’s a horrible plan. I couldn’t strangle you to death right now. I’m tired from work.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “My boss restocked those bandages, you know. He even increased the store’s stock.”
“Oh, is that so? Guess I know where to go for more now.”
A brief silence settled between you. Dazai was the first to break it with a dramatic sigh.
“You know you're not living up to your nickname at all.”
“Huh?”
“I used you to pay for my drinks, faked being interested in you to lure out my stalker, put you in danger, and you aren’t even sad at all!”
You opened your mouth to interject, but Dazai threw his hands up before you could get a word in.
“How can I call you Melancholy Belladonna when nothing even bothers you?” he cried, shaking his head in disbelief.
You scrunched up your nose in distaste.
“Okay, when you say it all out loud like that, I sound like a real loser… maybe I should be Lame Belladonna or something.”
Dazai looked at you with a mix of disgust and horror.
“I could never insult a beautiful lady such as yourself with a horrid nickname like that.”
You couldn’t help but laugh in his face. There was no way he was acting like melancholy belladonna was a flattering nickname to begin with.
“Right, sorry, of course not. I forgot you were a real class act,” you said between giggles, rolling your eyes at him.
“No, no, the real class act here is you. The way you stayed by my side, ready to explode alongside me. It was the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me.”
Dazai sighed dreamily, resting his chin on his hand. Then he looked directly into your eyes.
“But what I don’t understand is why a nonsuicidal woman like yourself would do that. Can loneliness really make a person do such crazy things?”
If there was one thing you were learning about Dazai, it was that some things he said weren’t truly that lighthearted or funny. Sometimes a secret meaning lurked behind it all.
For once, that meaning seemed pretty clear. Dazai thought you were so lonely in this city and desperate for friends that you’d willingly put yourself in danger.
He certainly didn’t bite his tongue. Whether it was something weird or astonishingly rude, Dazai said it. In a weird way, you respected that about him. It just would be nice if you understood him a bit better.
You glanced away from him, taking a moment before responding. This conversation needed a more thoughtful approach than you usually gave.
At first, you felt offended by what he suggested. It made you feel pathetic. To be called lonely, despite it kinda being true, felt like an insult. Loneliness wasn’t what brought you to that pub, and you hadn’t felt lonely when you refused to leave Dazai with the bomb alone.
Strangely, the more you thought about his words, that defensive feeling vanished. Instead, there was a feeling of comfort. Loneliness, that was only half of the picture here. It seemed like Dazai didn’t fully understand you either. He was trying to see things from your perspective, but he was still seeing them through his own eyes.
“I stayed because I didn’t want to leave you alone. It was scary, I wouldn’t have wanted to be alone. I didn’t actually think you were a detective and…” Your voice trailed off as you hesitated saying the next part. You snuck a glance at Dazai, only to find his full attention on you. He raised an eyebrow, silently prompting you to continue.
"You're fun to talk to and you make me laugh, even though I think you might be deeply disturbed. I didn’t want to leave you there alone. We aren’t exactly friends but we are at least drinking buddies by now…right?”
He didn’t respond right away. Dazai looked away from you and stared into his own drink, looking anywhere but at you. You held your breath. Did you accidentally push him away? Maybe that was too clingy of a statement to make when taking into account only a week ago a stalker sent him a fake bomb.
When Dazai looked back at you, he was back to his usual cheerful disposition.
“I see, I see,” he said, bringing his hand to his chin. “I should call you ‘Honest Belladonna.’”
You’d like to think, in a weird Dazai way, that was a compliment.
“Thank you.”
Dazai slid his drink over to you.
“Well, buddy,” he said with a wink. “Start drinking. You’re going to have to catch up!”