Archive of Our Own

dazai will never come out to the armed detective agency. he wears his binders too long and never lets them too close. 

dazai has joined the agency, he expects it to be more crowded, but there are only a few crucial members. yosano-sensei, kunikida-kun, ranpo-san, and katai-san were the only members other than the president and some clerk that he didn’t bother remembering the name of. 

when he gets to the agency, he expects them to know . they’re detectives, they should know if their colleague is was a woman. but they don’t question him, so he never brings it up. sometimes when he whines about not wanting to do paperwork, he hears how high his voice gets and waits for the comments. he doesn’t even sound like a woman when his voice gets like that, no, he sounds like the little girl mori found. he clears his throat and deepens his voice, disguising it as a way to mock kunikida-kun. 

dazai was taller than chuuya, but kunikida is taller than dazai. it makes him feel bad, he is taller than ranpo-san, but still, the thought of being shorter than his current partner makes him feel sick. he doesn’t know why it makes him feel that way, perhaps it’s because he feels small around kunikida. being small means being weak, and dazai is not weak. after all, he survived mori, that should count for something. 

dazai has been at the agency for a few months and has yet to meet the final member. when he first arrived, he was told the agency member’s names and abilities, but this katai and his ability were a mystery. (futon?) he knows it has to do with technology, but its specifics he cannot deduct. 

he wonders if katai-san can find his old documents.

he’s never seen them, but surely there’s a form out there with his deadname, with his parent's names. dazai doesn’t miss his parents, but he wonders what they would be like. would they have accepted him, called him their sweet osamu-kun, or would they have screamed at him to be normal- to be a human. 

sometimes he likes to pretend to be normal, he daydreams of calling his mother and telling her stories of the agency. how easy it is to irk kunikida and how incredibly smart ranpo-san is and how yosano scares him just a bit and how fond of cats the president is. and when he’d call his father it would be all business, he would tell his father how his job is going and how he’s a newbie, but he’s trusted because of how smart he is. his father would ask about his pay and dazai would wave it off saying “i’m doing good , so it doesn’t matter,” and they would say goodbye, but his father would hand the phone back to his mother so she could say goodbye. she would tell him to call soon and that she loves him, she would make smooching noises and say, “talk to you soon, my sweet boy.” 

dazai likes to pretend to be happy. dazai hopes he meets katai-san soon. 

dazai has been wearing his binder for too long. he feels bruises forming, he wonders if they’re more purple or yellow. dazai guesses blue. his chest hurts so much, but he doesn’t know if they’re from aching ribs or the cuts he made earlier on his skin. he cuts atop and underneath his breasts to stop him from thinking about the fact they’re his , but to focus on the pain. he never makes them too deep, it feels wrong to.

dazai is glad he has no assignments today, everything hurts and it’s hard to breathe. he feels so uncomfortable, but no one notices except for ranpo-san. ranpo doesn’t make his curiosity (worry?) obvious, but he skips up to dazai’s desk and says, “blah! who even cares about paperwork! let’s go!” kunikida raises his head to protest, but before he can open his mouth, ranpo says, “ah-ah-ah, i’m dazai-kun’s senior, so i’m in charge of him. he’s helping!” kunikida sighs and makes a shooing motion.

ranpo smiles sweetly, loops his arm around dazai’s arm, and pulls him up. he uses his free hand to cover dazai’s ear and whispers, “he doesn’t know we’re just going to uzumaki,” dazai nods and ranpo lightly slaps his face to face him in the direction of the exit. 

they walk, arms still looped, and make small talk. or what seemed like small talk with underlying knowing . he has to know, he has ultra deduction, he has to know that dazai is a woman. 

“have you been eating?” ranpo should know the answer already.

“only the best!” canned crab and cheap sake. 

“have you been sleeping?”

“of course, of course, six hours a day, my dear ranpo-san.” he only sleeps when he passes out from drinking too much. so many times he has come close to contacting chuuya, but he knows he can’t . 

ranpo seems to have another question on his mind, but they enter the cafe. this is only dazai’s fourth time here in the few months he’s been at the agency. so far, he’s been paying for his coffee, but he knows that will change in the future, and his tab will be too large even for him to cover. 

they take the seat farthest from the door and wait until the server is ready. “my dear kohai, tell me, why is it that you hate yourself?” dazai hopes his reaction didn’t show, he hopes he looks like a vessel of a person. 

dazai wishes he could tell him the real answer. 

he rots everything he touches. he killed oda, he knew ango was a traitor, but wanted to keep their friendship because it meant so much to him. he gave ango the benefit of the doubt, he shouldn’t have. but most of all he hates his body. his mind. 

he wishes he were a girl so he could be normal. (would mori’s touches have been worse? would the abuse have killed him, or would he have stayed knowing mori-san was his only source of praise?) 

he is a boy and it makes him sick. he wants to like himself. he knows, factually, he is an attractive person. messy, dark brown hair, amber eyes that seem almost crimson, pale skin with a few moles on his face, tall- 5’9, slim, but it isn’t enough. he’s not a real man. maybe other people don’t see it because they aren’t looking for it, but his hair is always too long to be a boy’s- it’s below his chin, his fingers seem too dainty, his waist…his waist dips in too much, his hips are too wide and, and, and, his voice was the worst. he’s attractive, but one staring too long at him, or even looking at him from behind, could mistake him for a young woman in a suit. 

he isn’t enough to be good, to go through with odasaku’s wish. 

dazai doesn’t know how long it’s been since ranpo asked the question, but by the look in his eye, he knows it’s been long enough. “ah, well you see, i’m quite disappointed in myself for,” what lie, what lie should dazai use, “not annoying kunikida-kun as much as i usually would! he’s getting too much done today!” that is the worst lie dazai has ever told, mori-san would punish him for this. 

ranpo obviously doesn’t believe him, since he asked the question his position has moved. he now sits with his legs crossed at his knee and balances his head on a closed fist, wearing a slight frown on his face. dazai wants to punch him until he is unable to speak, so he could never tell the others his secrets. instead, dazai smiles sweetly and the server comes up to their table.

“ranpo-san, ma’am- oh i’m sorry! dazai-san, i apologize! your hair is a bit longer and the morning sun softens your features,” dazai wants to vomit onto her, “do you know what you’d like to order?” ranpo orders for the both of them, dazai doesn’t know what ranpo got him. 

dazai knows ranpo wants to ask more questions, like, “if you hate yourself, why haven’t you succeeded yet?” dazai doesn’t want to deal with that. “ranpo-san, i’m so tired.” 

ranpo got him a black coffee with four sugar cubes. dazai drinks it all and closes his eyes. he misses chuuya. (he also misses mori, but the thought of mori makes him want to throw up, so he doesn’t know why he misses him so much. the thought of being in mori’s hands again makes his stomach feel tight. osamu misses when mori’s touches were light, and not slaps or scalpels. he misses mori and he shouldn’t. he misses chuuya, he needs him.)

when dazai opens his eyes, he sees that ranpo ate all his sweets and drank half of his hot chocolate. the melted, colored marshmallows create a small ring in the mug. ranpo now lays horizontally with his head to the wall. he’s asleep. 

outside the sun is setting and it makes the cafe seem much darker than it should be. the only light that's on is a lamp near the entrance, it looks warm. dazai is confused about why they weren’t kicked out, he makes eye contact with an older man and he says, “it seems you’ve awoken, young man, would you like more coffee? no need to waken your friend.” 

his voice is so warm and comforting that dazai gets the urge to weep into his arms like a small child. his voice seems like the kind that would make dazai feel that he is capable of being loved. (maybe mori-san just had an odd way of showing love.) 

dazai shakes his head for the coffee, but slowly gets up to move closer to the small bar and asks, “do you have cheesecake?” dazai has never had it, but that’s what he bought chuuya on one of his birthdays. “plain or strawberry cheesecake?” dazai has never liked strawberry flavored things, (not that he’s eaten much of it), so he answers plain and sits as quietly as he can. a moment later the man is back with a small piece of cake and a small fork that seems too pretty to be used by dazai. it has small designs, most of them being swirls and flowers, this seems like something kouyou-san would use during a meeting of her own. 

dazai takes a small bite and he wants to cry. maybe he should allow himself nice things instead of punishing himself so often. 

dazai orders a tea and waits for ranpo-san to wake up. 

(as soon as he gets home he needs to take off his binder, maybe take tomorrow off so his chest can rest longer than two hours. he thinks he’ll be able to sleep without sake.)