Chapter Text
It took Fukuzawa nearly three months of persuasion to get Dazai enrolled into the local middle school. Dazai insisted that he didn't need to go to school and that he could learn everything from watching Ranpo (read, he had attachment issues). Ranpo likewise insisted that despite his busy work schedual of running his own business, he had the time to keep an eye on Dazai (read, he also had attachment issues). While Fukuzawa very much wanted this to work out, he wasn't convinced that Dazai would really be able to learn anything in such an environment and he didn't want to rob his younger son of education.
In the end, Ranpo gave up with a sigh and Dazai spent several days scowling at Fukuzawa.
Dazai's introduction to public school was nothing short of overwhelming. The twelve year old had no prior experience with any schooling so the scheduling and constant interaction with people wore him out.
However, after a few week, Dazai seemed to settle into a routine. It seemed the worst had finally past.
About two months into his first year of school, was when it happened.
Dazai came home looking sullen and tired. When Fukuzawa attempted to ask him how his day was, Dazai disappeared into his room. This in and of itself wasn't unusual. Dazai often had days where he was over-stimulated from school. What was unusual was the fact that Dazai did not reappear later in the evening for dinner. Fukuzawa wasn't too worried. Dazai had done this once or twice before.
Fukuzawa’s fears were further eased by the fact that Ranpo was haphazardly scribbling down thoughts on his latest case during dinner instead of hounding his brother to come join them which he did whenever Dazai was upset. Fukuzawa eventually decided to leave his younger son for the time being. After cleaning up the dishes, Fukuzawa retired to the living room to read. All too soon, Fukuzawa began feeling the effects of the night passing on.
Fukuzawa was sure to shoo Ranpo off to his own room in a futile attempt to get the teenager to sleep. Before retiring to his own room for the night, Fukuzawa knocked on Dazai’s door.
“Good night, Dazai,” Fukuzawa called through the door.
He got no answer. A small flame of anxiety flared to life. Fukuzawa couldn’t put his finger on it, but something felt wrong. While it was entirely possible that Dazai had simply gone to bed, it was also possible that he was having a mental breakdown. Fukuzawa hesitated, debating whether or not to breach his son’s privacy.
In the end, his worry won out.
Fukuzawa slid the door open. The room was dark, but that wasn’t what caught Fukuzawa’s attention. The first thing that Fukuzawa noticed was the smell of blood. He quickly turned the light on. Dazai was curled up on his side in a miserable ball on his bed, knees hugged tightly to his chest. Something was very wrong.
“Dazai?” Fukuzawa knelt by his son.
Dazai didn’t answer. Fukuzawa nearly choked when he caught sight of Dazai’s wrists. They were covered in slashes of various lengths and depths.
“Dazai? What happened?” Fukuzawa would be lying if he said that he wasn’t scared for his child.
He reached out to put pressure on the injuries. As soon as Fukuzawa’s fingers made contact, Dazai flinched away from him, pressing his face into the bed.
“Nothing,” Dazai mumbled into the blankets beneath him.
“It doesn't look like nothing,” Fukuzawa tried to keep his voice calm.
The last thing Dazai needed right now was for him to freak out.
“I’m fine,” Dazai insisted once more.
“Dazai, you cut your wrists. That hardly says that you are fine,” Fukuzawa reached for Dazai again.
This time, Dazai let him gingerly take the injured limbs. The warm blood was slick under Fukuzawa’s fingers and made him feel sick.
“Nothing happened. I’m fine,” Dazai sniffled.
He finally turned to look at Fukuzawa. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were wet with tears. Fukuzawa hated this picture. He gently scooped Dazai up in his arms and left the room to take him to the bathroom. Dazai felt very small in his arms.
Ranpo poked his head out of his room at the commotion. It went slack with fear as he took stock of Dazai. Dazai pressed his face into Fukuzawa’s shoulder rather than look at his brother. Fukuzawa shut the door to the bathroom to keep Ranpo out for the time being. It was clear that Dazai felt uncomfortable.
Fukuzawa fished out the first aid kit before turning to Dazai once more. The twelve year old sat there with his eyes glazed over.
“I have to clean these up,” Fukuzawa warned.
Dazai gave no response. Fukuzawa sighed. He then began cleaning the cuts. While he worked, he attempted to get some sort of an answer out of his youngest. At every question, Dazai just shook his head mutely. It gutted Fukuzawa to see Dazai in pain. It was even worse when clearly Dazai hadn’t felt like he could confide in his family.
The only silver hope in the situation was that Dazai’s cuts were not serious enough to warrant a hospital visit. Fukuzawa bandaged his son’s forearms as tightly as he dared. It worried him that Dazai was yet to make a sound since they left his room, not so much as even a whimper.
Fukuzawa was at a loss.
When Fukuzawa was done, he gently carried Dazai to the living room. He wrapped his son in the throw blanket on the edge of the couch. Dazai didn’t move or say anything. Fukuzawa glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Ranpo had trailed them into the room.
“Can you sit with him?” Fukuzawa murmured to Ranpo, “I’m going to clean up the bathroom.”
Ranpo seriously nodded. Fukuzawa hoped that maybe Ranpo would be able to get Dazai to open up a bit while Fukuzawa wasn’t in the room.
Fukuzawa set about cleaning up the bathroom and then Dazai’s futon. The bathroom was a quick clean, the futon was much harder. In the end, Fukuzawa was left wondering if it would be easier to buy a new futon. When he was done, he crept back to the living room. Both of his sons were still on the couch. Dazai didn’t appear to have moved at all. Ranpo was pressed against Dazai, murmuring something into Dazai’s ear.
Fukuzawa quietly crept past them to the kitchen. He would make them all tea. He was about half way through boiling the water when Ranpo joined him. The teen hoisted himself up so that he was sitting on the counter top. Fukuzawa would normally scold him, but he was too frazzled at the moment.
“How is he?” Fukzuawa asked, “Did he say what caused him to do this?”
“He won’t speak with me,” Ranpo admitted sadly.
He looked very lost. It was unlike Dazai not to talk with his brother.
“He didn’t say anything at all?” Fukuzawa frantically asked, “No hints?”
He had his suspicions, but he was nowhere near as observant as Ranpo was.
“No, he didn’t say, but I think I know. It’s his school. You need to pull him out,” Ranpo said firmly.
“What? Why?” Fukuzawa blinked.
“Because next time, I don’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from going all the way,” Ranpo was grim as he pronounced this.
Fukuzawa didn’t like the way that sounded.
“Going all the way? Ranpo, are you trying to say that Dazai means to kill himself?” Fukuzawa asked, unable to keep a tinge of fear out of his voice.
“Yes,” Ranpo’s answer was short and to the point.
Fukuzawa felt physically sick. He felt a sudden urge to check on Dazai. Before he could take a step, he felt Ranpo grab onto his haori. Fukuzawa glanced back at his elder son.
“Don’t. If you go to him right now, you’ll scare him even more than he already is,” Ranpo shook his head.
Fukuzawa deflated.
“He’s only twelve,” he murmured.
“He also is bullied,” Ranpo announced.
Fukuzawa frowned. He had been aware of this. Dazai certainly never said anything to him nor had any of Dazai's teachers.
“How do you know that? Has Dazai mentioned anything?” Fukuzawa pressed.
“No. He hasn’t said anything. I just know,” Ranpo shrugged.
Fukuzawa knew that was as about as good of answer as he was likely to get. He sighed and nodded.