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"A renowned psychic is coming to Yokohama," Kunikida said one day over their morning coffee.
"A psychic, huh? Like a fortune teller?" Atsushi asked. His face was covered in chocolate crumbs from the muffin he was eating, but he didn't seem to notice.
Dazai listensed intently from the sidelines, his feet on the table to maintain his usual air of feigned casualness. If there's a psychic coming to a place like this, there's a good chance it's an Ability user instead of the usual charlatan or cold reader. He leaned back a little, deep in thought as Kunikida continued.
"She's a medium, actually. Someone who claims to be able to communicate with the dead," Kunikida said. "Usually they use a variety of tricks to make guesses about the client's deceased family, but this person is unique. She's never received a criticism or negative review. Even skeptics and critics have walked away astonished... There can only be one explanation."
"She's gifted," Dazai stated flatly. There was no doubt in his mind; even the most talented guessers and frauds couldn't maintain a one hundred percent accuracy rate.
"Precisely. She claims to only need a photograph of the deceased loved one," Kunikida responded. He pushed his glasses up slightly. "She seems to just be on tour; it's unlikely she has anything to do with any of our enemies. I just thought it was interesting enough to mention." He glanced back towards Dazai for a split second, then turned around to face Atsushi again. "Atsushi, you'll be coming with me today. We have some reported activity of the Guild's remnants to investigate. Dazai, you'll be doing paperwork today."
"O-kay," Dazai sang, both of them completely aware that Dazai was not going to even touch a piece of that paperwork until a few days later when the Director started breathing down his neck. Even then, Kunikida would probably end up doing most of it, like always.
"Well then, let's get going," Kunikida stood up, clutching his Ideals notebook close to his chest. A small piece of paper fluttered down onto the table, but uncharacteristically, Kunikida didn't even notice or didn't bother to pick it up. Atsushi lept to his feet as well and followed Kunikida out of the cafe, his hands clenched together nervously behind his back. After watching them close the door behind them, Dazai leaned over and picked up the piece of paper Kunikida had been so careless to drop and leave behind him.
There was only the address of a local hotel and a room number.
_
It was a habit of Dazai's to visit the cemetery often. About once a week, he would sit by Odasaku's grave for about an hour and silently mourn him, remembering all the good times they'd had at the Bar Lupin. The tiniest things came back to him, and he reveled in how he could have taken such amazing things for granted. He remembered Odasaku's soft smile, the implicit trust Odasaku placed in his words even when he was spouting absurdity, and the complete honesty and earnestness Odasaku held himself to. Despite being a member of the mafia, he had given up killing and began caring for orphans. Dazai had never encountered anyone like him, and likely never would.
All of these things and more flooded into Dazai's mind as he approached his old friend's grave, but his reason for visiting today wasn't to mourn. He gently retrieved a tattered photograph he had left at the grave, running his fingers over his friend's smiling face and his own. He loved and hated every inch of this photo, of this naive time when he had been so foolish to think there was a possibility he could find happiness, even if that happiness was in the form of nighttime meetings in a run-down bar.
Dazai tucked the photo into his trenchcoat pocket before the stinging in his eyes increased any further. He pulled the scrap of paper out of his pocket again and double-checked it, even though he had already committed every detail to memory.
The hotel was a crumbling gray stone building on the older side of Yokohama, far from the port. Dazai didn't have to walk the entire way, but he did; perhaps he never knew who could be in the driver's seat of a taxi, or perhaps he was stalling. Anxiety spiked in his chest once more as he looked up at the spires and statues lining the roof of the old hotel. What a fitting place for an acclaimed psychic to stay.
There didn't seem to be anyone at the front desk, so going straight to her room was a breeze. Dazai knocked on the door and took a step backwards, patiently waiting as his heart pounded in his chest. After about thirty seconds of silence, the door creaked open and a pair of huge purple eyes peered out at him.
"I'm here for a reading, madam," Dazai said. "I apologize for not coming to your event, but this is a special occasion I would like to remain private. If your ability is real, I'm willing to pay as much as you ask to-"
"Do come in," the woman muttered, swinging the door open all the way. Now Dazai could see her clearly; she was a petit woman of about 155 centimeters, with thick, coarse black hair that flowed to her hips and stuck out wildly in all directions. She had large purple eyes behind thick, circle-shaped glasses, and she was wearing a plain black and white dress with a purple bow tied around the neck.
The woman moved to her kitchen as Dazai entered her room. She pulled a black and white cat-shaped teapot from the cupboard and began to boil water as she talked. "My name is Elizabeth Gaskell. I came here from America because I heard wondrous things about this town and its Ability users. In a city so plagued by death and destruction, I thought you could use the ability to reconnect with your loved ones. Would you like some tea, young man?"
"No thank you, ma'am," Dazai said, cautiously taking a seat on the ragged patchwork sofa next to the hotel's bed. He wasn't quite in the mood to relax, considering what he was about to ask. "I appreciate you coming here. I'd like you to explain your Ability, if you would." Kunikida said she only needed a photo, but if she also needed to touch him in any way to use her Ability, his only hope was gone.
"Of course," Gaskell said, pouring herself a cup of tea and joining Dazai in the main room. She sat down her cup on the wooden coffee table and turned towards Dazai, giving him her full attention. "My Ability, Half a Life-time Ago, allows me to summon the consciousness of a deceased person for three minutes upon touching a photo of the deceased person's face. It can only be used once on each deceased person. The person will appear solid, but will in reality be intangible. You will have three minutes to converse before my Ability automatically deactivates. Since you bothered me for a private session, the price will be 500,000 yen. Do we have a deal?"
Dazai nodded carefully at each piece of information. "Indeed we do," he said, pulling the photograph and some cash from his pockets. He laid both on the coffee table in front of him, pointing at Odasaku's face. He felt a sharp jab in his chest once more. "It's him," he managed to mutter.
"I see," Gaskell said softly, taking the photo and running her fingers over it. Dazai's breath hitched with sudden anxiety, knowing how easily she could just rip it to shreds. She had no reason to, logically, and it's not like Dazai could even look at the photo without feeling like he was being eviscerated, but it was the only image he had of himself and Odasaku together.
Gaskell continued rubbing her fingers over the photograph. Dazai drew his legs up to his chest and clutched them, making extra sure no part of him was touching any part of Gaskell. She closed her eyes in concentration, beginning to murmur softly to herself in a foreign language. A soft purple glow began to emanate from her, loops arching through the air and forming giant rings with letters swimming inside. There was no doubt; she was using an Ability.
After about a minute of chanting and glowing, Gaskell seemed to collapse onto the couch in a slump. Dazai jumped up and stood on his feet, careful not to let Gaskell's apparently unconscious form touch him. He waited for an agonizing moment, wondering if this was part of the procedure or if the universe really was out to torture him for his existence.
Then Odasaku appeared.
He looked just like he had in life; cropped auburn hair, focused silvery blue eyes, and a bit of a stubble. He was wearing the same beige coat that he had always worn. Dazai wanted to cry right then and there, but he smoothed his expression and put on a cheerful smile.
"Odasaku, it's been a while!" he said, lifting a hand in greeting. "You'll never believe what I've been up to these past few years! I quit the Mafia and I'm working for an organization to help save people - I even saved this orphan, Atsushi, and he saved another orphan named Kyouka, so it feels like a chain-"
"Dazai," Odasaku murmured softly. Dazai felt silent, feeling tears beginning to form in his eyes.
"I miss you, Odasaku," Dazai whimpered. He felt pathetic expressing that thought, but he only had three minutes. He might as well say everything that he felt.
"I miss you too. Dazai, I'm sorry," Odasaku said. Dazai's eyes widened, unable to process what he had heard. "I'm so sorry, Dazai," Odasaku repeated. "I'm sorry that I left you alone. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry that I didn't find a reason to live. I don't have any regrets except two - not being able to save the kids, and leaving you."
Dazai couldn't stop a tear from running down his face. What was this idiot even saying? Acting like his life didn't even matter... "You're a huge idiot, Odasaku," he said, unable to do anything but repeat his words from their last encounter.
"Yeah," Odasaku said.
"There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think about you," Dazai said. "There isn't a day when I don't wish I was a bit smarter, that I had realized Mori's plan before it was too late. There isn't a day when I don't wish I could go back to the Bar Lupin one last time, to see you drinking there one last time - Odasaku, it hurts like hell."
"I know," Odasaku replied. "There are some things I can't tell you, but listen, Dazai. You can't die just yet. We will be together again someday, but it won't be soon. You're alive for a reason. You're needed here."
Dazai winced with every word. How easy it would have been to just give in and say goodbye to this world; that's what he'd always longed for, after all. But he couldn't go against this knowledge. Every fiber of his being knew that it was true.
"Then I'll stay here until the moment I'm no longer needed," he said. "Odasaku, please just tell me one thing. Tell me you're at peace. Tell me that wherever you are, you're happy."
Odasaku chuckled softly. "Time is almost up, Dazai. But yes... I've been happy and at peace, but to be honest, standing here in this room is the happiest I've been."
Dazai's heart pounded. He struggled to form words.
"I'm proud of you, Dazai," Odasaku said, his image already beginning to fade. Dazai wanted to yell, to curse the heavens, to beg Odasaku to not leave. But he couldn't make the words escape from his throat. Then Odasaku said something he never expected, something that he had never really been told in his life.
"I love you, Dazai."
_
"As usual, Dazai didn't do any of his paperwork..." Atsushi muttered, glancing over at the untouched heap on Dazai's desk. "Are you going to cover for him again, Kunikida?"
Kunikida gave Atsushi an expression that could almost be considered soft. "Yeah, I will just this one time. I thought that he deserved a bit of a break."