Chapter Text
Atsushi staggered to Dazai’s side, coughing from the smoke that seemed to swallow the two of them. A symphony of emergency sirens rang in his ears, all but drowned out by his heartbeat as he struggled to lift his unconscious friend. In his current state of exhaustion, he could barely move himself, let alone Dazai.
“Somebody,” he called, his voice weak. “Somebody help us!” A figure broke through the smoke and scooped Dazai into their arms. Atsushi could only hope they were an ally; his eyes were too blurry to see clearly. He stumbled behind them to safety, and heard someone call his name as he reached his coworkers.
“I’m okay,” he said, and collapsed in a heap.
Dazai awoke to the sound of piano music and the clink of glass against glass.
“The usual?” asked the bartender, taking a bottle down from the shelf behind him. Dazai didn’t reply, instead looking around at his surroundings.
He sat on a stool beside a bar made of polished wood, its surface lightly worn from glasses being slid across it. The room had a hazy glow to it, one that was deeply familiar---he was in the Bar Lupin. Dazai became aware that someone was sitting to his right; he could swear no one had been there a moment ago.
Oda Sakunosuke sat beside him, writing in a small leather notebook. He seemed like he had been there the entire time, waiting, as real and alive as Dazai himself. Dazai stared at him, his eyes wide, processing the shock.
“Odasaku?” he said, barely able to raise his voice above a whisper. His friend closed the notebook and turned to face him.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Six years,” replied Dazai, still hushed. “You’ve… been gone six years.” He furrowed his brows. “How are you here? How am I here? I was in the middle of a mission.”
“I think you know,” said Oda, blunt. The realization hit Dazai like a shock from a defibrillator as he recounted the last things he remembered---smoke, gunfire, and shooting pain.
“No! Not now! I have to go back!” Dazai leapt to his feet and prepared to run for the door, but Oda grabbed him by the arm.
“Hold on a moment,” he said, and smiled slightly. “You know, you’ve changed. A few years ago, you would have been thrilled to be here.”
“It just comes at a bad time, that’s all,” muttered Dazai as he sat back down beside Oda. “They need me out there, at least for this mission.” Oda raised his eyebrows, curious. “Ah, yes. I suppose you’ll want me to fill you in. After you--” Dazai paused, struggling to maintain his composure as he realized again who he was speaking with. “After you fought Mimic, I left the Port Mafia. I laid low for a few years, and then joined a newer group, the Armed Detective Agency. We deal with situations that the military police can’t. We’ve even had to go up against the Port Mafia in the past, but a few arrangements have been put in place.”
“Arrangements?”
“I’ve worked with my old partner, Chuuya, on a few missions here and there. The feared ‘Double Black’, back together,” Dazai said, smiling despite himself. “There’s also a new pair. Do you remember Akutagawa?”
Oda nodded. “That pupil of yours with the coat?”
“That’s him. He’s still with the Port Mafia, but he’s been working with a newcomer to the ADA that I’ve been working with.” Dazai tensed again. “Atsushi. He was out there with me. He might be hurt.” He looked at Oda, unable to conceal the worry gnawing at him.
“If you’re the one teaching him, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” answered Oda, and though Dazai knew his confidence wasn’t misplaced, he didn’t feel at ease. The odd glimmer resting at the corners of Oda’s eyes didn’t help any. “Tell me about this Atsushi of yours.” Dazai rested his hand on the back of his neck, hesitant, his face slightly more pink than it had been a moment earlier.
“Well, he’s not ‘mine,’ you know, but he fished me out of the river, and it turns out he has a very powerful ability. The Port Mafia came after him, and then an American organization, and there was a conflict. A whale landed in the harbor, too, and…” He stopped. Oda was staring at him blankly, lost somewhere in his rambling. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”
“I’m used to it,” replied Oda, teasing. He turned back towards the bar, more serious. “Does he know?”
“Know what?” Dazai frowned. “If you mean my history with the Port Mafia, then yes. After the conflict began, it was hard to keep it a secret--”
“No, I mean does he know how you feel about him?”
“What makes you think I have anything but platonic feelings for him?” Dazai sat up straighter, feigning indignance.
“I know you, Dazai. You start rambling when he’s mentioned, and you somehow managed to get less and more tense at the same time.” Oda faced Dazai again. “It’s okay. It’s been six years; it’s time for you to move on.”
“Move on?” Dazai looked away and spun his seat from side to side, utterly failing in his attempt to look like he didn’t know what Oda meant. “From who?” Oda put a hand on Dazai’s shoulder, stilling him.
“You know who I mean. Be serious.”
“I am wild,” Dazai quoted, pretending to believe it for a moment, and almost immediately giving up the act. He buried his face in his hands, seemingly in embarrassment, but more so in a superfluous attempt to hide from Oda’s gaze. “How did you know?”
“It wasn’t hard to guess. I could see the way you would look at me sometimes. I knew it would be harder on you when I left if I said anything.”
Dazai rested his head on his arms, not attempting to fight the dull ache in his chest. Oda was right; if he had known, Oda’s death would have torn him apart more than it already had.
“It haunted me,” he said at last, “that I never told you. At least you knew.” The two of them sat in silence, the familiar glow of the Bar Lupin surrounding them like a blanket. Dazai felt a question tugging at him, one that he couldn’t dismiss.
“Odasaku,” he began, “do you--” A frantic beeping interrupted him, loud as an emergency siren. Panic took hold of Dazai as his surroundings began to fade, and he leapt to his feet. “No!” he cried, and clung to the sleeves of Oda’s shirt. “A little while longer!” Oda pried Dazai’s hands loose and held them, but Dazai could feel his warmth less and less. He flung his arms around Oda, hoping for even a moment longer with him.
“I was wrong, Dazai. You saved yourself, and now you’re doing the same for others. I’m proud of you.”
“Please, don’t leave me, not yet--”
“Tell him,” Oda whispered in his ear, and kissed his forehead. Around them, everything faded into white, and Dazai, alone in the emptiness, was the last to disappear.