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Sorry for not telling you sooner, Atsushi-kun, but I’ve been out these past couple of days because of a reunion. No, it’s not about to happen; it’s already done. Just going to wait it out a bit longer until I feel like going back to work. You know how it is.
You can explain that much to Kunikida-kun for me, right? Aww, thanks a bunch! I’m lucky to have such a kind and understanding kouhai.
You might be wondering why I’ve decided to contact you instead of Kunikida-kun directly. Well, you could say that I’m hiding from him. I promise it’s because I’m reflecting on what I’ve done to him like any other good man would. Don’t doubt me on that, will you? I’m just preparing my soul and ears before receiving my due punishment. Who doesn’t repent when one sins? But as I am a sinner I’m bound to stumble and make the same mistakes again.
If he hasn’t figured it out already and complained to all of you about it, then let me explain what I did - it was an honest mistake, I swear.
I was lounging in Kunikida-kun’s place when someone knocked on the door. No one knew I was there - not even the owner himself - which made me a bit wary about confronting anyone at the doorstep, especially if it were a deliveryman who needed his signature. But I looked through the peephole anyway and if it was someone I can deal with by myself then I’ll gladly open it. It was an older woman in trousers and a loosely-knitted cardigan - probably someone hoping to sell something. Alright, I decided, I’ll open the door for her.
“Excuse me sir,” the elderly woman said, her voice just as grating as the wheels of her metal cart. “Would you be interested in any of these?”
There were potted plants of various types in her wagon. They were the plain and boring type of ornamental plants that only plain and boring people would bother to maintain, so naturally I had no interest in buying any of them. But being the gentleman that I was, I played along this grisly old woman’s charade.
“Why does a lovely woman like you sell these woeful little things?”
“It’s for our retirement home. A little cash goes a long way for old folks like me, don’t you think?”
Retirement home? Alright, I’ll believe it - that’s what I told myself. But no matter how much I think about it the conclusion I arrived at was the same: it’s a scam.
Aside from her faked aging voice, her clothes were too new and modern compared to what a local grandma would wear. She also looked too energetic and full of life to be among the old folks who stay in retirement homes - if you ask me, Kunikida-kun has a better chance of fitting in with the jaded pensioners than she did.
Not to mention the very fact there wasn’t a home for the aged nearby at all. The closest one I could think of was at least two or three train stations away. Catching exhausted homeowners at this time of the day must have been part of their strategy as well.
“Won’t you spare a little money for charity, good sir? They’ll bloom soon - wonderfully bright little flowers. Some color to liven up your apartment.”
I could have said, “oh no madam, this isn’t my apartment, thank you for the offer,” but the way she pushed her voice and body toward me had somehow convinced me to indulge her further.
“How much would a little money be, dear madam?”
I don’t remember exactly how much it was, but it was more expensive than three consecutive meals at the best seafood buffet near the port. This is definitely a scam; how could those shabby bushes be worth that much?
I was about to refuse her when I received a text message. It was from Kunikida-kun.
Once I drop these files in my apartment, I’m coming over to yours to kick your ass for skipping work again today.
Oh no, he’s coming.
For some reason, I decided to hand over some cash. It was probably much more than what she had mentioned since she had muttered something, but I was in a hurry to save myself and chose a random pot. “Keep the change.”
She might have bowed low with a bright smile or victorious smirk - whichever it was I wasn’t able to notice. After I hurriedly shut the door and dragged the thing somewhere near the window, I planned my escape and prepared my belongings.
Only then did I realize the wallet I took money from wasn’t mine.
I know what you’re thinking: “Dazai-san you intentionally paid with Kunikida-san’s money because your wallet was empty!”
That is somewhat true. But no I did not intentionally choose his wallet over mine. I was just so used to having his wallet in my coat that I didn’t even think about it! Naturally, mine had barely anything in it, so my brain must have subconsciously chosen the one with enough cash in it. It’s as simple as that. It’s an honest mistake, I tell you!
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to clear that up with him yet. I planned to tell him the day after (since his anger would have significantly subsided by then) but something unexpected happened that very night of my blunder.
I bumped into one of my old childhood friends - although I suppose calling him a friend is a bit of a stretch.
I’m not sure how he recognized me. I’d left my hometown during middle school, and I hadn’t been particularly close with anyone at all. Perhaps it was because I bore so much resemblance to my aging mother’s face that those who lived there would have instantly made the connection.
“We’ve been wondering what had happened to you, you know?”
Despite his jovial greetings, I could tell he was criticizing my appearance. You must have thought the same things he was when you first saved me from that river, didn’t you? Well, I’m used to it. It’s not exactly what “normal” people look like, right? Bandages and a shaggy coat - normal people of my age wore clean business suits like this friend of mine did.
“Say, why don’t you join us this Friday night?”
“Friday? So soon?”
“I know it’s quite the short notice, but there’s a reunion scheduled for our middle school batch tomorrow. I’m sure the others would love to see you even if you weren’t able to graduate with us.”
A part of me knew it was just a formality on his part; he wasn’t actually hoping I’d agree. He happened to see a familiar face and wanted to confirm his identity in order to satisfy his curiosity and be able to share with his girlfriend “guess who I saw today!”
But the other part was intrigued - excited, even. As far as the world was concerned I was an ordinary child in an ordinary school in an ordinary town before I suddenly vanished - before I met that devil dressed in a white coat. No one in that part of the country knew what I had become and had preserved the image of the mischievous imp that had been the greatest source of my mother’s headaches.
Could I really become the man I had once envisioned myself to be, even if just for one night?
Without thinking, I had accepted his offer and asked for the details of the event. It wouldn’t be held in my hometown but in a relatively larger city nearby. You don’t need to know exactly where I grew up, but just know that I’m from the North.
And as a child of the North, I’m more familiar with the harsher winters than those of Yokohama. My thickest coat wasn’t nearly good enough for its chill, nor were any of my formal suits in any proper shape or form.
I’m sure that you’re thinking, “you don’t have to worry about it too much, Dazai-san. Your handsome face makes even the dirtiest rags shine!” Why, thank you Atsushi-kun! I am quite flattered. But I studied in an all-boys’ school, you see, so I needed to make the extra effort to look nice.
Why all the effort? Now that I think about it, it wasn’t necessary at all. No - it was flat out a stupid idea. I had spent money to rent the finest coat and even bought a new suit (simple but of good quality and still fashionable). It cost more than I could afford, so all my meals for the next few months will all appear on the Uzumaki’s tab.
But to appear as someone successful doesn’t necessarily require exceptional clothing. I could just wear what I usually wear to work, have it ironed out a bit and simply claim that I had just come from an important mission. Forgive the frazzled appearance, but despite my busy schedule I did my best to attend. Inflated half-truths are my specialty and a small gathering such as this with people I’m sure I’ll never meet again wouldn’t be much trouble for me at all.
I must confess that I simply wanted to wear something like that. When I was in the mafia I did not care at all how I looked, but now that I had no money the vanities that plague all men ailed me. I worried about what these ordinary folk would think of me and I had hoped to at least prove that I had indeed become a king rather than a stray dog lurking in the streets.
If only I could describe that feeling when I had finished dressing myself up. It was only a simple black turtleneck under a dark brown suit and maroon overcoat, but I had felt like I resembled an actor like you thought I was. Maybe it was the hair - I pulled it back a bit - anyway, I think I’ve been rambling on for too long.
Now that I’ve gone this far, I see I’ve made another stupid decision: telling you so much about myself. Forgive me, Atsushi-kun. I don’t know why I’ve been going on either. But I suppose now that the story has been laid out you wish to know its conclusion. Alright, then. I’ll finish what I’ve started.
Needless to say but since I couldn’t calm down from the excitement turned anxiety, I didn’t even bother showing up at work. Why has it turned into anxiety? That, dear kouhai, is what you call the effect of being slapped hard in the face by reality.
I could go on about my delusions about impressing my batchmates, but it’s just not as easy as it is. You see, there’s at least one of them who could see right through me. No matter how convincing my lies were he never fell for them and understood that they were nothing more than the grand illusions of a master conversationalist. My preparation could have been for nothing. Heck. It could have even made things worse. For sure they’ll be telling friends and their friends’ friends about the youngest son of my mother’s suddenly revealing himself after a decade. But if that one person manages to ruin everything, then they’ll only ridicule me for the fool that I am. Never mind if they find me intimidating or pitiful or something else. I just don’t want to be laughed at.
I don’t find shame in being a detective for the Agency at all, just to be clear. In fact I’m very proud of my profession and the people I work alongside with. It’s just that I’m afraid that they’ll find out the name Dazai Osamu. Yes, that’s right. It’s not my birth name. It’s a name I chose for myself when I was picked up by that devil, and so it shall forever be tied to him no matter how hard I try. If you’re wondering why I don’t use my “real” name now… let’s just say that that name is forever tied to my mother and the family she tried so hard to raise by herself. I can’t bring myself to burden her any further.
Anyway I had planned to present myself as something else. Something more normal. And so came the awaited day. I had taken a train to that city in the morning and arrived late in the afternoon. By then the streets were already buried in the snow. Its coldness held a warmth I hadn’t expected at all; it was inviting and familiar like the father welcoming home his prodigal son. Yes. I suppose that was why I had been so adamant yet anxious about this gathering. I thought I could make her proud.
The site they chose wasn’t too shabby nor too extravagant either. It was appropriate at best, but I’d be lying if it didn’t have a certain charm. Very old school Japanese sort of building - it felt like I was a writer attending his very first socials.
For all the intelligence gifted to me, I haven’t the slightest clue what it meant to be a normal human being in times like this. Years in the agency and things like this aren’t new at all, yet as I was about to present myself as “myself,” I felt like I had opened a window in me somewhere I wasn’t aware of and strangers could peek in and see through it clearly. It was strange; I hadn’t felt like that in who knows how long. But that’s alright, it’s manageable. As long as he doesn’t show up.
But he did.
I was busy exchanging pleasantries with a few of those who I at least held the slightest memory of when he appeared. Whatever illusions I fed them they gobbled up like mutts and I thought myself to be in the safe zone. But as soon as I saw his face I felt weak, the fear I thought I had lost long ago had resurfaced, and I just wanted to run away and hide. Ah, my grand efforts have come undone so easily!
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Shuu-kun.”
He had this monotone way of talking that was painful to hear. It wasn’t that his emotions were unreadable or that he was being sly and dishonest. Rather, it was that he was so honest about what he felt that there was nothing to read in between the lines. It is honesty that I love yet despise at the same time. For one thing, it builds trust. On the other hand, it cuts wounds deeper than any other psychological weapon possible. But I suppose that is the nature of the truth.
I had felt threatened at his cordial greeting that my mind had been scrambling to find a good reason for being untruthful. Without second thought, I downed my first glass of expensive sake.
“Same here,” I said in as friendly a tone as possible.
The others were talking amongst themselves, occasionally asking me or him questions about nothing in particular. But no matter where the conversation went I could feel his eyes on me.
I didn’t dare look up to meet them since I was afraid of what I’d see. Anger? Disgust? Pity?
Agh. I just wanted to get out of there.
But the taste of such fine liquor had glued me to my seat. The warmth I saw in the cold snow that tickled my skin was now flowing in liquid form beneath it. Before I knew it, I had drunk beyond my capacity. You know what I’m like when I’ve gone too far with the alcohol, right? That’s not a farce, I can tell you that much. But for the first time the liquid had loosened my tongue to an extent farther than what I had intended, farther than what I had thought I could go.
“You haven’t talked much since I came,” said he, the bane of my existence. “What about your own business? How’s it going? I’m sure someone as bright as you has made it quite far ahead.” Everything he said had annoyed me. Each and every word, each and every syllable in that oily voice had triggered something in me.
“Shut up.”
I didn’t know why I had said that. I didn’t know why I had thought of saying it - maybe I didn’t - but as quickly as his smile fell, so did the energy in our immediate surroundings.
“I think you should have some water-”
“I said shut up, asshole.”
There was a multitude of other words and embarrassing things I threw at his direction then to no one in particular that night. The shamelessness I had been cursed with then had brought me more shame now than ever before, and I’m afraid I’ve sobered enough to know not to reveal anything further. I still hope you don’t look down on me like those idiots did, okay, Atsushi-kun? I’m sorry if I’ve betrayed your expectations, but this is who I really am. I can at least be honest about that. Then again, I’ve willingly bared myself like this to you so you’re the one with the right to judge me. I don’t ask for your understanding, only forgiveness.
After my sharp tongue slashing the hearts of innocent men at an innocent gathering, I stumbled out of the venue alone and fell face first into the snow below me. It was cold. The snow wasn’t warm at all.
But I wasn’t totally wrong either. Snow, when warm, turns wet. And wet snow had clung to every inch of my shivering body like the guilt and shame that I’ve been carrying since the day I was born.
I’m not sure how I made it back to the hotel, but maybe some good Samaritan was passing by (or for some reason, one of my former classmates) and took pity on the fallen, misshapen form. I might have sneered at their faces and played at their patience with taking me to my room, but all the same I was dragged back into reality. My hangover has never been worse and my throat was dry. The moment the fog in my mind had cleared, however, the sins of the past night had come back to bite me. Who knew a single affair could bear this much damage?
But I only have myself to blame. I wasn’t acting rationally. I wasn’t acting normally. I had manipulated and lashed out at the man who was the first to really see me for who I was and accepted me regardless.
I’m still here in the hotel room, ruminating on my sins. See? I told you I really was repenting. Did you believe me? If you didn’t, I don’t blame you. But if you did, you’re a scary one, you know that?
I’m sorry for burdening you with all this. As your mentor, you should be the one doing the rambling and I the listening. This is really just proof that there’s something wrong with me, no? I can promise you that I’m trying my best, though. I’ve made that same promise to someone important too and I haven’t failed it yet (at least I think I haven’t). Thank you if you’re still there, listening.
I just received a text from Kunikida-kun. I’m 100% sure it’s about the bush. Did you tell him already, or did he figure it out himself?
…ah. Well, I wasn’t expecting that.
Do you know what he said? He said he’s thankful for such a steal. Steal? Where? I didn’t steal anything. Turns out the shrubby little bush were hydrangeas, due to bloom this spring. How did he know that? Ah, how could I expect any less from our resident nerd! Hmm. If he’s that grateful, I suppose I can get away with a few more days to myself.
So that woman wasn't a fraud after all. Interesting. But I believe someone once said that people who make a living selling things tend to lie even if they don't need to. That must be the case, and a burden has lifted off my shoulders.
Now I can rest easier, armed with a small flame in my heart to endure this harsh winter. Fate sure is merciful, isn’t she?