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Snowflakes fall upon the river in slow motion, melting into the water with all the simplicity of their fleeting existence.
Dazai wonders if he'd melt in too.
He hangs beyond the bridge’s guardrail, arms hooked behind the metal to hold him steady as his feet keep him balanced on the edge.
If he fell, how deep would he sink, how long until he, like snow, would disappear?
It's strange, he supposes, to have these thoughts now. Months, years even, have slipped by without him feeling the pull of his navel to the earth.
He wonders if it's the fragile state of this moment, transient and beautiful, the cusp of winter settling into the night.
Dazai looks to the moon, breathing in deep enough for his lungs to burn, before his arms are squeezed into his ribs, shoulders pinching painfully as the air is suddenly forced back out.
“--too much to live for--”
He can barely make out the voice behind him as coughs wrack his lungs, the other person's arms gripping tighter as his chest compresses.
“--I’m sure you'll find--”
Dazai has to admit, the guy’s got a strong hold on him. He can't even shift his body weight enough to throw the man off at this angle.
“--just come back over, please!!”
Finally catching his breath again, Dazai looks down, noticing thick-coated fur instead of human arms wrapped around his body. Not surprising that it’s an ability-user given the amount of stealth and strength used to sneak up and hold him in place.
“I can't really move with you holding me like this,” Dazai says, now that he's got his breathing back under control, giving his shoulders an experimental wiggle that proves pointless.
“Oh!!”
The other man jumps back, letting Dazai go so quickly that he may have fallen if he hadn't of secured his arms behind the railing earlier.
Dazai swings himself back over the guardrail, towards the man now offering him a series of quick bows.
“I'm sorry, that was pretty presumptuous of me to grab you. I just didn't want you to jump!”
Golden eyes meet his, pupils just slightly slit, and Dazai takes him in. He's skinny, surprisingly so considering how easily he held Dazai in place just a moment ago. His hair, though choppily cut, shines brilliantly beneath the moon’s rays, freckled with snowfall. Striped fur covers the length of his arms and hands, ending in claws that look sharp enough to tear through Dazai's flesh. Just how much effort did this guy have to expend to keep from hurting him on accident?
“Are you going to change back?” Dazai questions.
Looking down at himself, the young man frowns, furiously wiping at his arms before hiding them behind his back. “Sorry! I know they're pretty scary to look at.”
Dazai shrugs, stepping into the man's space. “Not really.” He holds out his hand, giving it a little shake. “Let me see.”
Cautiously, the man reaches forward, gently setting the tips of his claws onto Dazai's hand before jumping back the moment Dazai's ability activates.
“There,” Dazai chirps, “my repayment for worrying you!”
“Th-thanks!” Eyes meet his again, traces of lilac now mixed with the gold. “Oh, I'm Atsushi, by the way. Nakajima Atsushi.” He bows, clearly not deep enough to know who Dazai truly is, and Dazai isn't sure why he's relieved by that.
He nods, introducing himself as well, before moving forward. “You're quite welcome, Atsushi. Now, come! Yokohama isn't the safest place at night. Let's get you home.”
It takes Atsushi a moment to decide before following behind Dazai's unhurried steps.
He tells Atsushi he hasn't seen him before, questioning if he's new to the city.
“I came here just a few months ago, after I got kicked out of my orphanage…” Atsushi pauses and Dazai stays silent, knowing it’s better to wait for information to come freely before pulling at it. “But, I have a job now, and my coworkers are nice, so I think I'm settling in well!”
“Is your job rescuing people from admiring the scenery,” Dazai asks, turning to watch Atsushi stumble over his words.
“No! I mean--I just, I thought--”
Dazai can only hold out so long before finally taking pity on him, laughing as he waves off Atsushi’s concern. “I’m kidding~, I know how it looked.”
He trails forward again, slowing his gait as Atsushi catches back up, leading him towards the night market and the food stalls. “Are you hungry?”
Atsushi’s stomach growls loudly in response and that’s a good enough answer for Dazai.
They make quick work finding a stall, the vendor bowing respectfully as she hands over their order. Dazai places the yen in her hands despite her continued refusal.
Atsushi remarks about it after they leave, but Dazai dances around the question, instead leading Atsushi to the nearby docks.
“I was watching the snowfall,” Dazai says once they're seated, the expanse of water stretching out wide before them, scattered clouds framing the moon’s soft glow. Dazai sees Atsushi take in the view, the gentle drifts of snow surrounding them, a small smile settling on Atsushi's lips as he appreciates the view.
Suddenly Dazai feels embarrassed, sitting in his layered clothes and coat while Atsushi has politely accompanied him in only a light button-up.
“Ahh, here,” Dazai says, moving to take his coat off, but Atsushi waves his hands to make him stop.
“No, no, don't worry, I'm always warm because of the tiger,” Atsushi says, though his cheeks are painted a bright red, and Dazai doubts how truthful he's being.
“Then, how about this?” Dazai moves instead to pull the scarf from his shoulders, wrapping it around Atsushi's neck. It's silk, and not very warm, but at least it'll help block a bit of the wind.
Dazai is sure the red spreading further across Atsushi's face, now rosy from his lips to his eyes, has little to do with the slight breeze drifting in from the water. Atsushi mumbles a quiet thank you, pressing the scarf to his face as if to hide his smile and Dazai feels his heart catch.
Such a simple exchange, but Dazai already wants to experience it again.
They sit and talk until their food is long finished. Dazai stands, stretches, urging the blood flow to return to his numbed fingers.
“And here I forgot I was supposed to be taking you home.”
“My apartment is within walking distance from here,” Atsushi says, shaking his head to loosen the flakes stuck to his hair. “I wouldn't mind the company if you're still willing…”
This, Dazai decides, he is definitely willing to do.
***
“Hey, asshole, tell me again why I have to be out here with you?”
Dazai peers from over the top of the shelf he's been staring at for the last several minutes. Chuuya looks at him, setting a bottle of wine back in its place. At his feet lays a selection of different brands and ages, all of them expensive and exquisite--just as Dazai had requested.
“Are your ears clogged with slime, slug? We've been over this.”
Dazai moves farther down the aisle, picking up a bottle of Junmai Daiginjo to examine.
Chuuya huffs as Dazai walks away, grabbing his bags to trail after him.
“I heard what you said, but it doesn't make sense! Why throw a bunch of high-priced alcohol at an enemy? Are you trying to get him drunk enough to kill?”
“You really don't listen when I speak, do you? I'm trying to court Atsushi, not kill him.” Slipping the bottle into his own bag, Dazai turns to level Chuuya with a look. “And you, amazingly, actually have a pretty good idea of what drinks are worth savoring, instead of just drinking to get drunk.”
Dazai isn't surprised by Chuuya’s lack of response; really, his brain must be as stunted as his legs! Instead, he leads them to the whiskey aisle before picking out another two bottles to take to the cashier. It's only once they've left, climbing into the back of the car, that Chuuya speaks.
“An actually nice compliment...you really are smitten,” he snickers.
“You're welcome!” Dazai beams, pulling out red ribbons from a bag he left in the car earlier. “And now you get to put those dainty little hands of yours to work wrapping bows around all these bottles!”
The drive to the Armed Detective Agency’s apartment building is longer than Dazai would prefer, but it does give him and Chuuya enough time to decorate the bottles, though it takes several how-to videos to get the ribbons looking...mostly decent.
The moon is on his side tonight, shining bright enough to light their path up the frosted stairs, guiding them straight to Atsushi’s door.
“You wanna go all out?” Chuuya whispers, setting his armfuls of bottles down with a wide grin, blowing warmth into his hands once they're free. “Place ‘em like this.”
They make quick work, quietly arranging the bottles before dashing back to the car.
“Chuuya, you're a genius and I could kiss you!”
“Please don't, and you're just inept,” Chuuya laughs. “I mean, really, of course you'd want them in the shape of a heart, you dumbass.”
Dazai snorts, shoving Chuuya’s shoulder as he motions for the driver to leave. He glances back towards Atsushi's door, the bottles only barely glinting behind the guardrails, and he hopes Atsushi will be pleased.
Maybe he’ll even ask Dazai to come over to drink with him! He’ll have to be sure to check his phone regularly so he doesn't miss the invite.
It's not until several hours later that the call comes in. Giddy, Dazai sits up in bed, wiping sleep from his eyes before seeing the caller’s name.
“Boss, there's an issue.”
He sighs. “Cut to it.”
“Wer--Nakajima has taken your gifts to Kunikida's dorm. Yosano has joined them.” A pause. “I believe they are opening each bottle to check for poisons.”
Dazai can almost feel the anger rolling off each of the other man’s words and barely suppresses a laugh.
“Boss, do you wish for me to go down there and correct them?”
“No, no,” Dazai waves a hand in the air, though he's alone in his room, “I suppose a bunch of alcohol placed outside of someone's door is a little too suspicious.”
He ends the call, groaning as he lays back down to look at the ceiling, sunlight just barely peeking through the top of his curtains.
“Guess I'll need to try again.”
***
He goes to Ango next, flailing his whole body across the other man's desk, scattering files and reports to the floor as a long sigh spills from his mouth.
“Quite a dramatic entrance, Boss.”
Ango accepts his theatrics with the same grace he always does, simply pushing Dazai's body to the side enough to rearrange his work space.
“Angooo, I need your help.”
Ango takes a moment to open his laptop again before responding. “If it's about the meeting you keep avoiding, I've already messaged Mr. Santoka with an excuse and a rescheduling. It'll be the third of next month; please do not make me have to apologize for you again.”
Dazai pushes himself up to sit cross-legged on Ango’s desk. “It's not that, and stop rescheduling it--”
“That I cannot do.”
“--it's about Atsushi!”
Fingers pausing their typing, Ango finally meets Dazai's well-practiced pout. “Atsushi?” he mumbles, no doubt filing through the names of every member within the Port Mafia before finally remembering. “Oh, that young man from the Agency you're now infatuated with? Chuuya told me you delivered gifts to him. Did he like them?”
Dazai's head falls forward. “He didn't, and that's the problem!”
Ango grips his chin. “He is under the legal age. Alcohol could just be something he hasn't tried yet and it intimidated him.”
Grabbing Ango's shoulders, Dazai yanks him closer, ignoring the squawk in his ear. “And that's why I need your help! What do you think Atsushi would want?!”
“Boss, please, don't ruin my suit.” Ango says, leaning back once Dazai releases him. He takes a moment to smooth out the wrinkles left by Dazai's hands before speaking. “If I recall, Nakajima is from an orphanage, correct?”
Dazai nods.
“Then I would assume he was lacking in material possessions,” Ango motions his hand across the room, gesturing towards the trinkets and decorations he’s collected and displayed along his office shelves. He stops himself though, glancing down towards his own outfit in thought. “...then something practical and efficient would be best.”
Dazai leans across the desk, eager to hear Ango’s suggestions.
“Come then, I know a store.”
Dazai claps, jumps up, and follows him out the door.
It takes a few hours of careful examination for Dazai to finally choose a Patek Philippe. He never had much use for watches, his phone and his subordinates always having the time instead, but Ango guides him through the variety of options until Dazai is satisfied with his pick.
Sleek black leather, complemented by gold accents. The small details of a silver moon and stars gleam across the deep purple of the watches’ face.
Dazai ensures that it is boxed and ribboned.
He sets the box in front of Atsushi's door and, since Ango reminded him that it’s almost time for the Agency to close for the day, he quickly walks back to the car before he risks getting spotted by another Agency member.
His phone rings while he's reviewing the one report Ango managed to finish after their shopping trip.
“Tanizaki disassembled your watch to check for explosives.”
Dazai frowns.
“It's not my watch, it's Atsushi's, don't mix it up.”
“Understood--,” is the only answer he allows before ending the call.
***
Dazai accepts his disappointment with practiced ease.
If there's one thing he knows about himself, it's that he's tenacious. Misery and misfortune are only minor setbacks to overcome and Dazai has prided himself on outwitting the challenges life has thrown his way.
And Dazai knows well enough that nothing about life in the Mafia is easy.
Not the clawing pit of absolute boredom--heavy and oppressive, his mind constantly seeking, seeking, seeking before turning in to destroy himself.
Not the slew of failed attempts--desperate, calculated, haphazardous--all of them simply final measures denied to him time and time again.
Not the promised threat of manipulation--honey-spoken words and practiced smiles filled with poisons and barbs, pushing him to choose:
The life he's come to know,
Or treasured friends.
And when Dazai is forced to choose, he commits to the action.
Mori doesn't see the flick of Dazai's knife move to his throat until it’s too late--gasping bubbled words, deafened as Elise shrieks before disintegrating when Dazai takes Mori's cheek in one hand, feeling the stuttered heartbeat come to rest through the tips of his fingers. He held Mori’s gaze for a long time, long enough for the light to fade from the man's eyes, before forcing his legs to finally, finally push him towards the exit.
He moves Odasaku’s kids to a new safe house, tucking them away with Ango and a resolve to wipe out Mimic and bring Odasaku back alive.
And he does, silencing Gide’s philosophical bullshit before marching over to Odasaku and punching him hard enough to break his nose, anger and worry and fear cutting through Dazai's carefully constructed walls, breaking him down into the mess of unbridled emotions spilling from his core.
Odasaku tugs Dazai in close, pressing him into his shoulder as his hand cards through Dazai's hair, pulling bandages loose, soothing him when Dazai chokes on his grief.
Grief for what he’s lost, what he almost lost, and what he knew he had to do now.
Because reforming the Mafia into a place where Odasaku could be happy would not be an easy task.
But everyone would have their place, even within the darkness.
***
Days and weeks slip by as Dazai continues his dutiful search.
His executives and subordinates are now regularly pulled into brainstorming sessions throughout the day. Their suggestions so far include: a futon by Tachihara, a clay tea set by Gin, an espresso machine by Higuchi, a VR headset by Q, an embroidered kimono and haori by Kouyou, a flower arrangement (yellow camellias and sunflowers surrounded by violets and purple pansies) by Hirotsu. Kyouka, strangely, suggested a chameleon plushie, though Dazai hasn't quite committed himself to that idea yet.
But no matter what he delivers, Atsushi doesn't fluster and light up like he had with Dazai's scarf. Instead, Atsushi simply looks them over before moving them into his closet and shutting the door.
And while every phone call has been a disappointment, Dazai presses onwards, tenacity trailing at his heels. But now, feeling a bit desperate, Dazai decides it's time to pull out his hidden ace: Odasaku.
Recently, Dazai’s given him plenty of paid time off to work on his newest novel, but Dazai thinks the other man won't mind the interruption too much. He doesn't bother calling before heading over, just like he doesn't tell Ango he'll be missing the rescheduled meeting with Mr. Santoka later today.
He's certain both will be pleasantly surprised.
Dazai sneaks out the back of his headquarters before walking towards the train station. He rarely takes the train, but he doesn't want Odasaku to think he's coming on official business if he arrives by car. And besides, it's not a long ride and it gives him plenty of time to ponder his next move.
That, and that he’ll arrive shortly after lunch, so he’ll be able to steal some food.
Slipping through the back door, he hears the sound of running water from the kitchen and follows it in, fully prepared to surprise Odasaku when he rounds the corner. But there, standing at the sink, is Atsushi, cleaning off dishes that must have been used during lunch.
He freezes, hands still poised to grab at not-Odasaku’s ribs, mind racing as he tries to figure out why, how, Atsushi has wound up at Odasaku's house.
Atsushi must sense his presence though and, before Dazai can compose himself, Atsushi turns and startles. Dazai watches as the man's face morphs from calm to confused to anxious in a moment's time.
“Oh!! Dazai--ah, uhh, excuse me!!”
He rushes past Dazai and out the front door and Dazai feels his stomach sink.
Behind him, Dazai hears Odasaku's footsteps approach, the click of the front door closing still echoing in his ears.
“Dazai, I didn't expect you,” he says and then, peering around Dazai's shoulder, “did Atsushi leave?”
Dazai nods. “Yeah, just now.”
Odasaku hums in thought.
“Well, come on, I’m sure you're hungry.”
He motions for Dazai to sit at the table before heating up a plate of hamburger steak. It's only when Odasaku sets the plate in front of him that Dazai decides to spit out his thoughts.
“Are you dating Atsushi?”
“Can you tell Akutagawa to stop leaving gifts for Atsushi?”
They pause, both taking in the questions spoken at once.
Dazai cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed.
“What?”
Odasaku only sighs, pulls out a chair, and sits down.
***
Dazai finds himself standing in front of Atsushi's door, his conversation with Odasaku churning in his head. Here's what they discussed:
First, Atsushi had met Odasaku soon after arriving in Yokohama. After having learned of Atsushi's ability and his struggles with it, Odasaku connected him with the Armed Detective Agency, knowing that Fukuzawa would provide better control for Atsushi to master his ability than Dazai. A shame, Dazai admits, but the wiser choice. He'll pout about that later.
Second, because Dazai had Akutagawa stationed near the dorms in order to report back Atsushi's reactions, Atsushi had come to believe that Akutagawa was the one leaving all of the gifts.
Third, because Akutagawa was always upset with Atsushi's reactions and confusion, Atsushi sensed his anger and was convinced that the gifts were nefarious in nature. Dazai laughs when Odasaku tells him that Atsushi admitted to routinely yelling at Akutagawa from his dorm window. He would have loved to see Akutagawa struggle with that.
And finally, since the Agency was at a loss of what to do, Atsushi decided to reach out to Odasaku to see if he had any suggestions on how to handle a fellow Port Mafia member.
The real point is that Dazai is a bit of an idiot for not handling things with Atsushi more directly. He can't argue this when Odasaku tells it to him plainly enough.
So here he stands, worried he’s blown any chance he may have had, but also knowing he needs to admit his mistake to Atsushi, to let him know he's not a total creep (and neither is Akutagawa, not really).
Taking in a deep breath, he knocks and waits.
It only takes a few moments for Atsushi to come to the door, but Dazai can feel anxiety buzzing down his spine. How can an interaction so simple, so easy, be so utterly nerve-wracking?
When Atsushi answers the door, the smell of tea reaches Dazai's nose.
“Hi Dazai,” Atsushi says, opening the door wider, “Oda called and said you'd be stopping by.”
Dazai nods, following Atsushi inside, and sends a quick thank you to Odasaku. He’ll have to take him out for a drink soon.
He sits at Atsushi's table and sees the maroon scarf he gave to Atsushi, carefully folded, placed in the center of the table. Atsushi places a cup of tea in front of him and sits on the opposite side.
Atsushi's skin looks so much warmer in the soft light of his apartment and his cheeks are just a faint pink. Dazai desperately wants to trace his fingers along Atsushi's skin, but instead he places his hands on his knees and bows his head to the table.
“I am the one who’s been leaving you gifts,” he confesses, looking up to meet Atsushi’s eyes. “I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention.”
He bows his head again and waits, willing to accept whatever answer Atsushi gives him.
What he doesn't expect, though, is for Atsushi to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank goodness! I was really, really hoping it wasn't Akutagawa!” Atsushi raises his cup to his chest and closes his eyes, as if sending thanks for an answered prayer and Dazai’s heart flutters.
He watches as Atsushi’s lips fall into a small frown, looking down towards his cup.
“Why though? What’s the point of all the gifts?” His voice is tight and Dazai has to run his palms down the fabric of his pants to keep from pulling him into a hug. He has half a thought to answer light-heartedly, just cowardly enough to keep himself from being too honest while easing Atsushi's mind, but Odasaku already warned him against this.
Be more direct with your feelings, Odasaku had told him, as if he forgot Dazai has absolutely zero experience in dating.
Looking at Atsushi now though, shoulders curling inwards as if already prepared for disappointment, Dazai chases away any thoughts of teasing him at the moment.
“Because I wanted to see you smile again,” he answers. He waits for Atsushi to catch his eye before continuing. “I want to get to know you, but I--, I’m not really sure how to go about this. I enjoyed the night we met and I wanted to experience that with you again.”
“But the gifts--”
“Are yours to do with as you please, no matter what your answer is. Keep them, sell them, trash them. I didn't give them to make you obligated to me.”
Atsushi runs his fingers across the wood grain of his table in thought, his lips set still in a frown.
“No one's ever…” He wavers, searching for his words and Dazai gives him space to speak. “What if I mess up?”
Dazai takes a steady breath, understanding Atsushi's fear, but knowing, knowing, he still wants to try.
“Then we talk about it, just like if I mess up. We can learn together.” He sets his hand upon the table, palm up, and waits for Atsushi to respond. And when Atsushi lays his hand within Dazai's, he runs his thumb along Atsushi’s skin, hoping to soothe any remaining worry. It seems to work, encouraging Atsushi to grip his hand tighter, and Dazai can feel the other man's pulse speed up.
“Take me out on a date.”
Atsushi says it so plainly, but Dazai sees the blush spread across his face. Atsushi doesn't break eye contact though, looking at Dazai with a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.
Dazai can feel his own blush creep up his neck, climbing past his bandages and into his cheeks. He swallows thickly and nods.
“Tomorrow? After work?”
“Just,” Atsushi says, “nowhere super fancy, okay?”
Dazai laughs, shaking his head. “I think I can do that.”
Atsushi lets out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing, before he lights up with a smile. Dazai’s face still feels like it's on fire, his heart beating in his ears.
“So, can I still keep your scarf?” Atsushi asks, looking down to it on the table.
“Of course,” Dazai says. “It's been yours all this time.”
Atsushi lets go of his hand to grab the scarf, pulling it to his chest. “When Oda said you were coming over, I was worried you were going to ask for it back.” He runs his fingers along the silk fabric. “I think it's my favorite gift so far.”
Suddenly, Dazai feels the sharp poke of the box in his coat pocket. He sits up straighter, pulling out the black box.
“Can I add another to your collection?”
Atsushi fumbles, dropping his face into the scarf still in his hands. “So many! I'm gonna run out of space in here!”
Dazai chuckles, holding the box out for Atsushi to take. “This one won't take up much space, I promise.”
He watches Atsushi open the box, looking over the item inside with confusion.
“Why,” he asks, pulling the leather out, “is it so long?!”
“Because,” Dazai declares, “it reminded me of a tail!” He encourages Atsushi to stand, watching eagerly as Atsushi pulls the belt through his pant loops. “I couldn't find one patterned like your tiger, but I figured plain black would match your outfit well!”
He can barely contain his excitement as he circles around Atsushi, admiring how the belt falls at just the right length.
Atsushi grumbles while rolling his eyes, but the smile never leaves his face.
He waits for Dazai to settle back down before stepping into his space, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Dazai’s cheek.
“Thank you,” he says, resting his forehead on Dazai’s chest to hide his face. “I'll be sure to find you something nice for Valentine's, okay?” He pauses before laughing. “Good thing I still have a couple of weeks to look!”
Dazai drops his chin to Atsushi's head, a smile taking over his face.
“I can't wait,” he says.
And really, truly, he can't.