Chapter Text
i.
It happened during one of their stake-out missions.
For all his talk about suicide, Chuuya didn't really strike Dazai as the type of man to get all sentimental with funerals, yet there he was. Standing amidst the wreckage of what should've been a solemn and peaceful ceremony; Dazai closed the casket of the dead with a murmured rest in peace, before turning to Chuuya.
Around them, dead bodies laid in heaps. It wasn't long before that they were just handing out their speeches, all choked-sobs and trembling lips, until Dazai had finally been called to the stand and just started...shooting them all.
"What a way to put the 'fun' in the funeral, ne, chibi?" The man asked him, finally holstering his gun. Chuuya tried not to point out how Dazai was basically stepping over the dead man's wife, her previously flawless face now marked with a huge hole in the forehead.
"I don't get it," Chuuya finally brought himself to speak up, because him being a mafia doesn't necessarily make him void of manners.
"What do you mean, you don't get it? We're done. Mission complete."
"I didn't realize this was a mission." You said this was just a funeral.
Dazai's red-brown eyes twinkled with mischief. "When I said we'll be handing out our condolences, I meant it, Chuuya."
Now if Chuuya hadn't been killing for a living, perhaps he would've questioned Dazai about the meaning of that statement, oe if he even understood what the word meant. But Chuuya kept silent, etching the faces of the dead to his memory, wondering what they did to deserve such a fate.
"This man is our client, Chuuya." Dazai sighed, patting the casket. "He knew his death was coming, and specifically asked for a hitman to take out his wife as soon as he kicked it. He said he wouldn't be able to rest in peace until she was with him."
Chuuya stared at the man, dumbfounded.
"If she was the only target, then why the fuck did you start shooting everybody? Didn't it ever occur to you how hard it is to clean up your mess - "
"But, Chuuya! They deserved it!"
"And since when do you hand out justice, huh, youngest executive? Why the fuck do you care if they deserved it or not - "
"When I die, I don't want people saying shit to my face one last time."
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "They were hardly saying shit, vagabond. Did your bandage finally eat your eyes? They were literally - "
"Crocodile tears, Chuuya." Dazai finished, kneeling down to poke at the dead man's wife. "You know that bearded man, who claimed to be the client's closest friend? He has an affair with his wife."
Chuuya opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out. He distinctly remembered Horaki-san saying that he would miss his best friend terribly, being the only person who ever understood him.
Chuuya knew better than to doubt Dazai's intel, and was ready to call it quits. But Dazai wasn't finished.
His partner pointed a crooked finger at the man bleeding out at the carpet, his seat positioned at the middle of the first row.
"Kusaki-san," Chuuya remembered, "He was the client's secretary."
Dazai hummed, looking pleased, before he finally got up and dug his hand in his pockets. "Kusaki-san is actually the reason their company is bound to fall apart. For all his talk about how this wouldn't have been Naoki-dono's wishes, he's actually made it so that his assets are addressed to him, and not his wife."
"That's...petty," was all Chuuya could say, because bad and evil and notorious didn't really cover it. Chuuya had seen all three, packaged neatly along ith the bandage-freak right across from him.
It's actually kind of sad, now that Chuuya thought of it, because if he didn't know these people - what they actually were to the deceased - he would've taken their grief at face-value and wept along with them, whichever part of him that was still able to shed tears.
They were silent for a while, because the fact still stands that they were just sixteen and their first time in being a funeral was spent crashing it. On a mission. For who-knows-how-much bounty.
"Ne, chibi, when I die, I want you to make a eulogy for me." Dazai suddenly said, making Chuuya second-guess whether he'd misheard the words.
For all his talk about wanting to die, Dazai only focused on the specifics of getting there, not on what comes after.
"That's...bold of you to assume we'll even hold a funeral." Chuuya retorted, but he was a little unsure himself: what happens if Dazai did die?
Impossible. The mackerel had the life expectancy of a demon. He could jump out of a building, probably embracing whoever dumbass agreed to his double suicide, and still come out alive and kicking, bitching because he made it again and why can't he just receive the sweet release of death.
Chuuya snickered to himself, because it sounded tragic enough of a fate for the bastard.
"Oh, please." Dazai drawled out, leaning closer to Chuuya for good measure. Confidence simmered in his smile. "Knowing you, you'll probably host the most expensive, most luxurious, and first-class funeral there is."
You'll miss me, were the unspoken words.
"Are you sure you really want me talking shit about you as I lower your grave?" Chuuya raised an eyebrow, but making no move to deny his partner's insinuations. Like hell would Chuuya pass up a chance to show off his wealth. If it takes a funeral to splurge, then so be it.
(Okay, so maybe at the moment Chuuya doesn't have enough to do that. But someday.)
Dazai shook his head.
"Okay, first off, I don't want you to let me down - let Mori-san do that. He'll probably do a better job at it, anyway."
Chuuya ignored the comment about their boss. Not that it didn't make sense.
"Second," Dazai finally said, "I hardly think you'd be talking shit."
"...you don't sound so sure." Chuuya taunted him, because really, given the chance, he'd use the opportunity to expose every dark secret he has on his bandage wasting partner. Like how sometimes Dazai comes to the headquarters without as much as a bath, secretly pull pranks on Elise and blames it on Q, steals all Chuuya's wine -
"Make a eulogy for me, Chuuya." Dazai chuckled, watching Chuuya's face as he raced with his own thoughts. The brunette's voice was softer than Chuuya's ever heard it, and he'd been so busy with that fact that Dazai's words were drowned out in a haze. "Make it so that I'm the most handsome, intelligent, charming, illegally sexy partner you've ever had."
A moment and silence, and then:
"...Ha?! What the hell are you even asking, you stinky mackerel?! Handsome, my ass! You bandage-wasting device! You - "
For the record, Chuuya never agreed.
But that doesn't mean he ever forgot.
ii.
"You're not coming, Chuuya-san?" Akutagawa asked. Chuuya took another sip from his bottle, uninterested.
It was almost funny, how the skies remained clear and cloudless, as if even the sun felt the need to shine extra brighter today. All around him, the trees swayed in a soundless tune, the breeze was strong enough to sweep his hat off his head.
You're better off without that tacky hat, Chuuya ~
"I'm better off without him, that's what!" The words come out as a slur, and this time his subordinate uses Rashomon to snatch the bottle of Petrus from him, because approaching Chuuya personally at this point could lead to dead bodies and broken bones.
He shot Rashomon a glare, blue eyes seething - daring the monster to take away a god's only reprieve. Rashomon backed away.
"You can't keep going like this, Chuuya-san." Akutagawa explained, monotonous, but Chuuya knew him long enough to detect the hint of worry in his voice - the barest trace of sympathy a mafia can extend to one another. But then he just had to say, "Dazai-san wouldn't have wanted it."
Want a double suicide with me, hat rack? What a headline that would make - "Partners in life, partners in death".
"What the fuck do you know about what that bandage-freak wants?" Chuuya didn't mean to direct his anger at his subordinate, but it appeared that everyone at this fucking point kept telling him that Dazai wouldn't have wanted this and Dazai wouldn't have wanted that. As though death wasn't enough to keep Dazai from micro-managing Chuuya.
"That vagabond thinks I'm some sort of sheepdog who would follow him anywhere," Chuuya finally declined, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I hate it when he's right."
Because if there's two things that hadn't changed even as Dazai left the Port Mafia:
a.) It's that Chuuya would follow Dazai anywhere;
and
b.) Somewhere, may it be in the gates of heaven (hah, unlikely) or the burning pits of hell, Dazai is waiting, because he knows Chuuya is coming and his predictions are never wrong.
It's going to take Chuuya a while, though, with Ane-san keeping a close eye on him to make sure Chuuya doesn't kick it - not yet, at least - and that's why Akutagawa was here. Or maybe it's two of them watching him now. Of course, he could always use Corruption, kill himself along with a sizeable chunk (or maybe all) of Yokohama, but that's stupid, because even if Dazai wasn't here anymore, he'd never turn into that monster on his own volition, because that would mean dishonoring all the times Dazai struggled to put it on a leash.
"Maybe for now he just wants you to attend his funeral," Akutagawa murmured, almost to himself, but Chuuya's eyes widened at the words. Of course.
Knowing you, you'll probably host the most expensive, most luxurious, and first-class funeral there is.
For the record, Chuuya never agreed.
But that doesn't mean he'll let mere strangers hold his ex-partner's funeral, let people speak shit at his funeral, and maybe in a way Dazai knew he was going to end up like that client from eight years ago, who knew he was going to die and just couldn't leave the earth without taking his bastards with him.
Akutagawa stared at his superior, as if he didn't expect such a tactic to work, but it's all too late now. Chuuya had ditched his bottles, he's ready to give that bandage-wasting device a piece of his mind, because who the fuck dies without his partner's consent.
iii.
"It's your lucky day, chibi ~"
Chuuya squinted at the clock. Fucking two am in the morning.He pressed the phone closer to his ear.
"What the fuck do you want, mackerel?"
Static. And then:
"Just wanted to hear my favorite petite mafia." Dazai snickered. "Did I wake you up?"
"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just getting the finest sleep I ever got in weeks, it's not like I'm tired as fuck and you just woke me up at fucking two am in the morning."
"Good to hear you're taking a rest, chibi ~ !"
"Asshole. You have one minute to tell me what you want, or I'm hanging up."
"My, my, how snappy ~" Dazai choked out, probably the bastard's piss-poor attempt at laughing, making Chuuya scowl. "I just need you to do something for me."
"...what."
"Tomorrow, you're going to receive a very strange package, but you can't throw it out. No matter how much you want to. Or if it pisses you off. I want you to keep it -"
"Osamu. If this is another bomb - "
"Ah! What a wonderful life I've lived! I get to hear Chuuya call me by my first name in my final moment ~ "
"Shut it, you vagabond. It's because - "
Chuuya sat up from his bed abruptly, wide awake now.
Final moments, he'd said.
"Oi. Dazai. "
"Don't get your curls in a twist, chibi. It's...not a bomb, but you'll like it. Tell Atsushi that he can't live off chazukes for his whole life. And Akutagawa...that boy could use some sunlight. As for Mori-san, he could go kiss my ass."
A laugh.
"Although that's your job, ne, Chuuya?" This time Dazai's breathing was ragged, as if he was forcing himself to speak.
"Dazai, where are you?" This time, Chuuya was ready, it didn't even matter if he had o bust out of his room in pajamas, whether he looked unsightly with his bedhead and traces of sleep crusting his eyes -
"In your heart, as always." Dazai's voice was soft. Too soft.
"I'm not fucking around, you shitty mackerel! What's going on, why are you - "
The line goes dead.
iv.
"You shouldn't trouble low-level grunts with your bullshit, Dazai."
"What do you expect me to do, Chuuya? Call Mori-san to bail me out of jail?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it. Couldn't you have, you know, at least thought to call your partner before anything else?"
"Ah, Chuuya is jealous because I used my only call for Odasaku ~ "
"I'm not jealous, you stupid fuck! I pity him because he probably had better things to do that put up with your shit!"
"Ah, but your cheeks tell otherwise, chibi."
"Why, you -!"
"Odasaku might be the first, but you'll always be my last call, Chuuya ~"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean."
"It means, my beloved hat rack, that I would never call you for stupid shit like bailing me out of jail. Of course, it can't be helped if the matters are as pressing as your tacky hat ~"
"Stop pinching my cheeks, dammit!"
v.
"To be honest, at first I had a hard time believing that Dazai was Port Mafia."
A ripple of murmurs passed across the audience. The detective from the Agency straightened his glasses, standing firm, even though he could feel the heated stares of the aforementioned group burning through him.
"He didn't look like the type to do cold-blooded murders." Kunikida Doppo continued, irreverent of the Port Mafia Boss watching him. For one brief moment, the Yokohama underground and Special Abilities Department had put aside their differences to send Dazai to his grave, sitting in separate seats for his funeral.
Fuzuzawa-dono, president of the Armed Detective Agency, shot Kunikida a look as if to say, careful, but both of them knew Kunikida couldn't lie. Not like this.
"He was always a bastard who ate poisoned mushrooms thinking would kill him, only to end up parading around the office like an addict on high." Kunikida continued. This earned him a few snickers among the audience, easing the tension. "He frequently got caught on river nets, troubling the police, prattling on about new methods on suicide, never paying his tab at the cafe, flirting with women - basically, he was a shitty bastard and his daily work consisted ruining my day."
"But for a shitty bastard," Kunikida started, his own throat choking up, "He'd saved my life far more times than I saved his. When I first found out about his previous occupation, I thought, 'no wonder no one won the bet', but it never failed to astound me how the same man whose deeds are written in Mafia black, could be the same man to offer his life to save Yokohama."
Kunikida scanned the audience, saw Atsushi with his silent tears, Ranpo's stone cold face that finally matched his appearance with his age, Kenji's sniffles, Tanizaki and Naomi's surprisingly decent behavior that made them look like normal siblings for once, Yosano with her head hung low...and the gravity-user, Nakahara Chuuya.
He sat beside Akutagawa, the rabid-dog of Port Mafia, head hung low in his trademark black hat. He couldn't see his face, and Kunikida was grateful for it, because Kunikida had no idea how he would stare at the eyes of Dazai's previous partner - no, still partner: the other half of soukokou, and probably the man Dazai spent his last moments talking to.
"When we went Dostoevsky's headquarters, Dazai told me a little story about Snow White and his Prince." Kunikida said, watching the redhead visibly flinch at the reference. Of course he knew. At first it struck Kunikida as odd, with the whole city and their lives in the line and stupid fucking Dazai chose it as a time to prattle on with his fairytales, but Kunikida understood.
It was for this moment.
"He told me that Snow White would've loved his prince anyway, would've been happy away, even if her prince didn't come to save her."
The ground shook, and a chill went down in Kunikida's spine as red glow surrounded Nakahara Chuuya. The rabid dog of the Port Mafia sneered - but to their surprise, didn't unleash Rashomon on Kunkida - althought he appeared to be saying something to redhead, and the tremors eased.
Kunikida glanced at Dazai's wake, conveniently left on open casket. Somewhere along the audience, Yosano nodded at Kunikida.
"I swear, this bastard keeps on taking years off my life." Kunikida continued, rushed now, because he's not looking at Nakahara but God does he feel the weight of the redhead's stare, which is impossible, since the gravity-user was known to manipulate the gravity of only those he touches.
Maybe grief changes people.
He hoped it doesn't kill Nakahara. Or all of us.
Kunikida stepped off the podium, taking a small red book from his coat, and placing it on top of Dazai. The Complete Guide To Suicide, Dazai's personal Bible.
"You're going to need this, idiot."
If Kunikida shed some tears, it was probably due to the regret of giving Dazai the book back, when Kunikida could definitely have taken it for himself.
From what he judged would happen, he was going to need it.
vi.
"Don't you have any words left to say to him?"
It was first time Chuuya learned of what happened to Odasaku, and even as he looked at the grave in front of him, he found it hard to believe that such a great man fell to an untimely demise. He never expected for Dazai to tell him the truth, not after his four years of disappearance, but Chuuya wondered how different things would've turned out, if Chuuya had known.
"No need. Even back then, we always had too many stories and not enough booze, and even when I do come here I always just end up sitting here, wondering what it's like to be dead." Dazai murmured, his voice too gentle compared to the demon prodigy Chuuya knew - the same Dazai who left.
Maybe it's because he didn't know that such a place existed, such a time existed, and that Dazai, for all his claims about being cold-blooded and inhuman, actually cared enough for someone to visit their grave.
"I wish I'd known." Chuuya blurted out suddenly, despite himself.
It was all too honest, too real, and even the former executive turned to him in surprise, probably already thinking of another stupid remark to throw back at him.
To his surprise, Dazai only laughed at him, a sound that reminded Chuuya of chiming bells. He thought it was stupid, since he didn't have bells, and if the bastard laughed it should definitely sound like a witch's cackle -
"I do have one regret, Chuuya." Dazai said suddenly, and this time the gentle tone was directed at him, too soft eyes that Chuuya didn't know how to face without their usual bandages.
But he managed to choke out, "What's that?"
"I wish I could've taken you with me, Chuuya." Dazai hummed, looking everywhere but Chuuya's eyes.
The two of them went silent, because both of them knew that even if Dazai hadn't asked, Chuuya would've followed him anyway. If only he'd known.
If only Dazai told him.
"...you wouldn't have convinced me yourself, mackerel."
"I'm told to be very convincing, hatrack. A miracle-worker, really." This time Dazai smiled, back to his usual, overinflated self.
"Nah, I wouldn't have abandoned my luxurious lifestyle to live with you peasants."
"You - ! That's not a very nice thing to say, Chuuya. Your hat might hear."
"Did you just call my hat a peasant?"
"Shh, if you anger it even more it will consume your mind, Chuuya ~"
"Stop insulting my fashion sense! At least you don't see me wasting bandages and wearing tasteless trench coats - "
"Now, now, Chuuya. It's not a good thing to lie."
"Look who's talking!"
Daze made a clicking noise of disapproval. "Oda is turning over his grave hearing you be dishonest."
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Stop using the dead to support your cause, mackerel."
And then:
"What if I'm dead?" Dazai mused, leaning closer to Chuuya. "Would you finally admit that you like my fashion sense? "
"What are you babbling on about? That's stupid."
"Oh, I'm not opposed if you want to admit it now, Chuuya ~"
"No way." Chuuya shook his head, slinging his coat in one shoulder before turning his back on Dazai. "As if you'll even die, you shitty bastard. You'll charm even death if it means you get finish your business."
"Does Chuuya admit I'm charming then?" Dazai called out.
"It means you're a con-man, shitty Dazai!"
vii.
The Dazai Osamu that Chuuya knows doesn't die.
It's a truth of the world, no more than it's a certainty that man's predictions are never wrong, but then again, Chuuya had never considered that maybe, Dazai predicted himself to die.
He denied himself this - he refused to believe it - because the Dazai Chuuya knew simply doesn't die.
"You're lying." Chuuya spitted out, red glow surrounding every inch of his body. He wondered how odd must he have looked: a mafia executive still in his pajamas, tearing down the Armed Detective Agency brick by brick. The President of the Agency didn't look the slighest bit of his power - a stark contrast to all of his subordinates cowering in fear - but Chuuya couldn't do anything about it.
He had nothing on the brunette: not an inkling of where he went, no trace of clues to he could recall from their previous conversation, and now the President of the Agency was telling him that Dazai was dead, just like that, and if Chuuya waited long enough, he could see the body for himself.
Let me out, Arahabaki whispered. Perhaps it is not too late to follow him.
And Chuya considered it, he really did, until the President takes out something from his coat pocket - a small black box - and then handing it to Chuuya.
"This is for you." The President glares at Chuuya, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say it looked a lot like pity.
Dazai had mentioned something about a package, but he didn't know it would arrive to soon.
(Well, technically Chuuya flew all the way to the red-brick building, reaching it just in time to stop the President from leaving. He was probably on the way to deliver it to Chuuya.)
Chuuya stared at the black box, power ebbing out of him as he gingerly took the box from the President's hands. The box was wrapped in velvet, almost like -
No.
"That can't be. This can't be for me."
There's panic in his voice, almost bordering on madness, but Chuuya didn't drop the little box. Continued holding it like it was the heavest thing in the universe, because it was. It was at that moment, Chuuya realized, that he would take fake-bombs and exploding cars any day, anything but this.
"Open it." The President told him.
Chuuya felt lightheaded - his own chest a black hole consuming itself - because in another life, a more fortunate time, perhaps Dazai would be the one to open the box for him, his knee pinned to the ground.
He stared at the box, hands moving to open it -
Clenched his fists instead as tears streamed down his cheeks.
In my heart, always. Dazai had said.
Somewhere, Dazai lay dead in the ruins of a battlefied, clutching a used phone from God knows who. He didn't lie when he said Chuuya would always be his last call.
Chuuya felt stupid for ever being jealous of Oda.
viii.
"1,476 people." Chuuya mumbled. "That's not counting the exceutives, bosses and government officials Double Black has killed."
In the corners of his vision, he saw Ane-san stifle a gasp, because they were literally being seated next to government officials who could arrest them any minute now, considering Chuuya's sudden confession. Even Boss Mori shifted uncomfortably, not expecting Chuuya's eulogy to take a downward turn.
"We've brought down entire syndicates, leveled buildings, killed innocent people, stole and framed and lied." Chuuya continued, still in the same monotone he used. He couldn't bring himself to look at Dazai, not yet.
"He did some things that should've gotten him killed ten times over, no - a hundred, even. A piece of shit through and through." Chuuya's voice cracked. "But the thing is, we're the same."
"Chuuya." Ane-san snapped, the apparition of Golden-Demon appearing before them, hand poised to her katana.
It was the angriest Chuuya had ever seen her, every bit of Kouyou Ozaki the mafia executive and none of Chuuya's ane-san, who picked up a scrawny little kid like him on the streets and decided to take care of him. He wished it didn't have to be this way, but Chuuya promised.
The stupid mackerel wanted a fitting send-off, so Chuuya will give him one.
"I'm the same," Chuuya continued, dismissing Ane-san's warning, "I'm the same, and yet I'm still alive. I'm still alive - no, we're all still alive because some stupid mackerel decided to take it upon himself saving our asses, even if he all deserved to rot in hell anyway."
His gaze swept the audience, meeting each and every one of their gazes, and Chuuya almost forgot to mention:
"Not you, of course, man-tiger. Apparently Dazai's only problem with you was that you eat too much chazuke. Other than that, you're good."
Nakajima Atsushi brawled at this, and Chuuya was thankful that he had Kyouka by his side.
"What about me, Chuuya-san?" Akutagawa's voice spoke up, his glare flitting dangerously at the man-tiger. Behind him, Rashomon opened its jaws. "Did Dazai-san say anything about me?"
It wasn't the best timing, but watching the shin soukokou go for each other's throats, even at the loss of their mentor, amused Chuuya.
"He just said you needed more sunlight, Akutagawa." Chuuya replied, casting Akutagawa's jinko a side-glance.
This earned a laugh from the audience towards the Mafia's dog, because if one thing all of them agreed on, was that Akutagawa was definitely wearing too much black for his own good.
Chuuya cleared his throats, getting the audience's attention right back at him.
"We were sixteen when Dazai made me promise something to him." Chuuya began.
"What, to love him forever?" Someone from the audience yelled, and Chuuya's cheeks flushed.
' "No! What the fuck!" He scanned the audience to find the voice, and there was the culprit.
Elise-chan.
Chuuya's throat went dry, because angry as he might be, he was no match for Boss Mori's piercing stare, daring him to call off Elise. Chuuya simply continued, "He wanted me tell you how he's the most handsome, intelligent, charming, illegally sexy partner I've ever had."
"So you did like each other," He heard Mori hum. "Even back then."
Chuuya rolled his eyes. "Obviously that's a lie."
"Obviously." Kunikida Doppo murmured, and Chuuya scowled at him.
"Obviously."
"Ah, look. This is it. The current partner-slash-former partner conflict I've been waiting for!" Yosano Akiko stood up from her seat, pumping her fists. "I'm betting on you, Nakahara! Show him that what happened in our secret headquarters was not my fault!"
"What?" Chuuya shot the doctor a confused look, because as much as he rained hell on their headquarters and almost killed their farm boy, there were no casualties because Yosano was there.
Wait.
"Shut it, woman!" Kunikida's voice boomed. "You're a disgrace to the solemnity of this funeral! "
"Oh, like you're the one talk, Kunikida-kun."Yosano said the name in a sing-song voice, too familiar for Chuuya to ignore.
Before Chuuya could ask them what the fuck is happening, the President beat him to it.
"Yosano. Kunikida. Let the man speak."
Or not.
The two detectives went ramrod still, and even some of the Port Mafia members straightened in their seats. So this is the true power of the President of the Armed Detective Agency.
Chuuya cleared his throat, cheeks flushed.
Now that everyone's attention was finally on him, what more does he have to say to the bastard anyway?
The box felt heavy in his pocket, his initial plan going up in flames. Coming here was a mistake. He should leave now, while everyone was stuck dwelling on happy memories, because this was the best he could give Dazai and it's not like the shitty mackerel would be able to hear him anyway.
"I'm sorry."
Chuuya stepped out of the podium, dropping the mic.
ix.
Chuuya did stalk back to the funeral some time later, because i know it's too late and you're not popping back up from the dead but let me get a few things off my chest, shitty Dazai!
That, and the fact that Chuuya did leave abruptly - which was impolite and tactless totally not his style - that Chuuya walked back to the venue -
Only to find Dazai fucking Osamu standing in the middle of the two factions, alive and breathing, looking nowhere near dead as someone who got stabbed in the heart was supposed to be.
"I...I can explain, chibi." Dazai's voice was small, and real fear danced in those reddish-brown eyes.