Chapter Text
A husk of a living person. Alive, yet rotting inside at the gruesome sights of violence between human beings. At the same time, the mere perfect act of true humanity — human rage, that distinguishable, horrifying emotion — influenced him in a disgustingly shameful way. It was then, aged fourteen, he came into a realization — he cannot live. Who is to decide whether they die or live more than the dying person themselves? The pure fate of human beings is to die after a fulfilling life, but what to do when your existence consists of dread at every step? Fate, such a cruel word.
That, perhaps, is the most correct description of Osamu Dazai.
Whether it's the fault of failed adult figures in his life (you can hardly call his puny existence "life") or darkness built up within his mind from the grotesque images he witnessed at such a young age — did it matter? His life was worth as much as a bug's.
But perhaps, there's still some hope...
If to be full with hope is to be drunk on saké, Dazai's the most hopeful thing there is.
Dazai met various human beings, various faces he forgot moments later — there was no person worth an individual memory, no person worth to remember — but it's no philosophy. Some days it's hard to sleep with the darkness following him, slipping into his mind and replacing rational thoughts with such strictly edgy ones. In a way, you could assume he was just a pathetic man (man? No, he was still very much a child) borne with misfortunes so bad and shameful, adults cover their kid's eyes when he happens to walk by.
But no child should experience the nightmares he went through.
The scrofulous man far too interested (or, perhaps, he's just a coward full of fear when it comes to Dazai) in him has attempted in many ways, many times, to become the ideal mentor figure. Yet, all he was, was a fake cut out of such. Becoming a person Dazai idolized, or simply liked, was impossible for the likes of the corrupted medical murderer (it's shameful to other doctors to call that sick man one; all he did was hurt, not heal).
Addicted to hating himself, Dazai made no cruel effort at hiding his issues deep within his soul. No attempt at covering this hideous deformity growing on his face (it felt like everyone was able to see his nasty personality, his deformity, from just one glance — or is it paranoia?) would ever succeed, he was born and cursed to wield this painful wound of understanding the world far too much. But one day, he met an individual — worthy and graceful enough to leave a harrowing memory of those words filled with simple, but so hurtful care — who's knowledge of the vile world challenged Dazai's. In a way, the tiny comfort of not suffering alone influenced Dazai in a much bigger way than he first thought.
But before that intelligent chess rival of his, who stole his heart?
The first sunshines awoke along with the gorgeous brown eyes resembling the dark, crunchy leaves in Autumn — the spark of hope inside of them brutally crushed with a crunch like the same leaf.
Short, but fierce. Loyalty burned inside of him, but distrust beamed off of him. Ability stronger than the tides hitting the sides of the port, poetic in a way only pain-ridden poets could understand. Sorrow filled his heart just as water fills a cup, is it water or is it salty tears? Muted ginger hair flows smoother than fire, to compare him to fire is like comparing the sun to a lit match. Fierce attitude turns into bitching, the harsh words slipping out of his throat fueled Dazai's amusement at this poor dog's struggle.
Dazai never held a liking to dogs, but this one..
Ah, to compare a human being being to a dog...
Dazai did incontestably worse.
Perhaps, the reason behind that inhumane betrayal were, indeed, those crimes that dirty his hands and mind — crimes no human would manage to earn on their record. Words cannot describe Dazai's despair at the mention of humanity. The bare minimum is empathy, but Dazai lacks even that; along with many other attributes that makes human beings, human.
Dazai learnt to forget everything, to mindlessly swim with alcohol, which mended those stinging wounds of betrayal — and soon the torturous scars of losing a true friend. It wasn't death that entangled itself with Odasaku, ending his beautiful life filled to the brim with delicate memories of helpful acts and heart-warming kindness — but rather by Dazai's nasty deformity called a personality by others, which Odasaku overlooked.
"It seems," Dazai thought, "that no matter what I do, I fail."
He failed to keep a partner by his side, he failed to mentor that brat, he failed to impress his dearest friend.
Maybe, the prophecy of his partner in crime has come true, after all.
His mind became one with the internet, a place where his gloomy self shone in its pathetic perfection of showing the worst of the world (the worst of humankind wouldn't quite capture it, as Dazai is anything but a human being). There, a laugh slipped out of his throat at the puny plays of his against a considerably challenging chess player. Online chess was truly something..
From chess to chats, then conversations about the chance of meeting together — human contact with someone who prodded deep inside of his heart, oh how Dazai yearned that.
No sane person would peer into Dazai's soul, heart, like that one. He knew all ins and outs of Dazai mind despite never seeing each other. If Dazai were to die, he wishes this person was the culprit. In a way, he already killed Dazai. Lies formed underneath his finger tips, yet, somehow, the other person always caught that. Embarrassment bigger than from his shameful way of living erupted inside of Dazai, to be caught in the act was different with this one. Heart-to-heart talks about God — a shameless creature ignoring their sin that is humanity — bothered Dazai, but his inability to refuse (living beings don't want to be alone) caused him to drag it on and on.
Those efforts, as always, were pointless.
Stood up.
That was another point in Dazai's life — realizing how worthless it is to live as a true mystery, a blank puzzle box with no puzzle pieces.
That day, he ventured out to kill himself.
But just as his life grazed the hands of death — a savior came along.
Man his age, educated heavily with intelligence shining through his glasses. Rash, but rational. Ideals controlled his mind — but what if Dazai were to take place of those pesky ideals? Motives as innocent as a child born yesterday, but there was something about him that appealed to Dazai. A sense of familiarity. Sad people are sensitive to the sadness of others.
That man would throw himself in front of a car to save a child.
Does that count as suicide if you're saving someone?
Dazai finds it stupidly inspiring, he himself is as selfish as a careless rich man.
But is it selfish to cling to the last piece of hope he has that is that man?
The Port Mafia gave him a 'warm' welcome as Dazai's new partner in crime. But is this the same as the first time someone took his breath? Maybe not. But Dazai wouldn't trade it for anything. Past is past, and with a setting sun a rising sun soon comes.
Ideals and morals of his weighted the man's heart, innocent from crimes that burdened Dazai. One simple glance was able to deduct — he was not happy. But he should be happy. No one hurts him, save for a few threats. Does this seem similar to something he already experienced? Dazai needed to dig deeper into the other's background.
War.
Is that it?
If he so wanted peace — Dazai would die trying.
Oh, it seems like Dazai's adopted an idea of that man — to sacrifice himself as a means to die with a heroic purpose, but it is still suicide.
Dazai let him go.
What use is there to torture a man that won't love you?
Odasaku..
Perhaps Oda has, indeed, influenced this odd decision of Dazai.
The Book.
A livid sense of revenge, unexplainable anger, swam in his blood upon the harsh realization. The Armed Detective Agency, isn't it so poetic that his once 'friends' wish to tie him up like a common criminal?
Thus, he hatched a plan against them. The plan itself started right when Odasaku left him all alone. One way or another, by Odasaku or another man — something would be created to clash against Dazai, to remove him from this world he never belonged to anyway.
And that's where another man comes in, his pawn in this chess game he's playing.
Born from the book, he was nothing more than clean from the filth of humanity and not burdened by the dirt or questions about humanity itself. Dazai saw him, whether that was a hallucination or a weird dream from nearly overdosing — that man stole Dazai's heart in a way a woman could never.
Love.
It's a feeling human beings experience.
Dazai is no human being. He's not allowed to feel that way — but he wishes one day he would be able to settle down and watch as the waterfall pours down whilst the sun sets. Autumn would be so beautiful with a permanent lover, Winters wouldn't be so depressing. Dazai was loved by women, but with men? Perhaps it's the way they move, they way they talk when excited about something (when was the last time Dazai was genuinely excited?) or maybe it's how pretty they look under a night sky — either way, the rule of being loved did not apply to men. Dazai loved them, but was never loved back (maybe cared and cared for fits more, Dazai knows what love is but does he know how it feels?).
The casino manager followed Dazai like a dog; but is it devotion or is it mere fear? Did he belong in Port Mafia despite his blood being pure white? Dazai wanted to look past that — to keep him in his arms for a little longer. Dazai was not naive, he knew he would be left alone once more and there's nothing Dazai would be able to do to stop it.
He left Dazai.
Like everyone else.
Nothing's new.