Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oda yawned, stretching his arms and feeling his bones crack. It was almost the end of his shift - he slightly regretted choosing to work at night, but he imagines he wouldn't be able to change that for a long time -. He hadn't received any calls in a while, which he was grateful for: it was really challenging to his sanity to deal with all sorts of potentially suicidal people, not to mention the occasional prank call. Still, he couldn't complain, he had chosen this for himself. And he wasn't alone, he almost always had his friend, Sakaguchi Ango, a professional psychologist, supervising him - he was just a nursing technician, after all.

Fortunately for them, it was already half past ten on a Friday night, and their shift would end at eleven o'clock. 

The redhead spent a few moments playing with his pen while Ango fumbled with his phone, waiting for another call. When they received nothing, Oda began to gather his things so he could leave and he saw out of the corner of his eye his friend doing the same. However, before he could get up, a screeching sound passed through the room, which caused Oda to flinch slightly at the disturbance in the silent space, but he soon recovered and picked up the phone.

"Good evening, Suicide Prevention Hotline, how are you?" The redhead said patiently, just as he was instructed to do. The line was silent for a moment, apart from the occasional noise of water hitting rocks, winds and car wheels rubbing against the asphalt. "Hello...?" Oda tried once again.

A small sigh could be heard. "Hello. Can you hear me?" A small voice came and the young man felt his heart drop and, looking at the frown that formed on Ango's face, he realized that the man felt the same thing. That voice clearly belonged to a child. Probably a boy, judging by the tone.

— Yes. So, I imagine there's a reason you called here. – Oda continued, remaining calm, although his insides felt in turmoil thinking about what would make a child who looked so young call an anti-suicide hotline.

The line was silent for a while longer, before a small sniffle could be heard. "I'm on the edge of a bridge. There was a sign indicating that you could call this number if you planned to kill yourself." The child spoke in an almost robotic tone, worrying the two adults even more. "I guess I just want to know if you will be able to stop this."

Oda, honestly, didn't know how to proceed. It was the first case he had ever had where the person on the other end of the line was literally one step away from taking their own life - up until that point, he had only received calls from people who wanted to talk their way out of their thoughts, but weren't ready to commit the act. Even so, the first thought he had was that he should get the little one away from danger. "How about moving away from the edge, can you do that?" The redhead spoke in the softest tone possible, looking at Ango and receiving a nod of agreement.

"...I don't want." Was the answer he received after a few moments of silence. Oda bit his lip and decided to continue the conversation. He looked at his friend again.

"Ask his name and age." The brunette whispered, to which Oda responded with a simple wave.

"Can you tell me what your name is? And your age?" He asked, moving his fingers anxiously without realizing it.

"Why would I tell you my name? So you can find me and throw me in a mental hospital? That's not happening." It was whispered, but the two adults in the room heard it clearly and promptly frowned. But, before Oda could say anything, the boy continued. "I'm ten years old."

The redhead closed his hands into fists, seeing his knuckles turn almost white. The voice of a literal child shouldn't carry as much tiredness and hopelessness as this boy's. Despite how much he wanted to press for his name, he decided not to do so. It was a risky situation, one false step and they would lose him. 

Instead, an idea popped into his head.

"Kid, why don't we make a deal?" Oda began, feeling Ango's sharp gaze on his head. He didn't look at him, though. 

The boy was silent for a while. "Ok...?" He replied, looking a little insecure.

"If you step away from the edge, I'll tell you a story, okay?" He said.

"And why would I want to hear a story from you?" The child replied, although there was no real bite in his tone.

"Is this a no? It looks like I'll have to keep the story about a former assassin who wanted to be a writer to myself..." Oda said blankly, ignoring the warning look that Ango sent him. Of course, talking to a child about such stories wouldn't be very appropriate, especially when it involved himself, but he had a feeling the boy would be interested in it and he was more interested in helping the boy than maintaining secrecy.

And he, fortunately, was right. 

"Tell me more." The boy asked, after a short moment of silence. 

Oda allowed a small smile of relief to bloom on his face. "Get off the ledge first and then I'll tell you everything you want to know about this story."

The redhead heard hurried footsteps and almost let out a sigh, but stopped himself. Looking at Ango, he realized that the man clearly felt the same, despite not actually approving of his methods. Still, the man let him continue.

"Now tell me about this ex-assassin who wanted to be a writer."

Oda let out a sigh, thinking about how he should start. "Once upon a time, there was a teenager. He was a hired assassin and was impeccable in his services." He paused, continuing only when he received a noise from the boy on the other end of the line. "One day, he... kept... two volumes of a certain book. He, by chance of fate, met the author of these books, who told him that the third volume was horrible and said that the killer could write the third volume himself. The teenager thought he couldn't write about humans while killing them, so he decided to be a better person and help them." He finished, summarizing as much as possible and making it as family friendly as he could.

The boy didn't make a single noise for a few more moments, until he spoke in a low tone of voice. "And..."

"And?" Oda gently encouraged him to continue, trying to ignore the sound of the pen dragging against the paper that came from Ango.

"Did he manage to become a good person?" The child's voice seemed even smaller and insecure, if that was possible, as if he expected to be slapped for asking the question, which made Oda's heart squeeze once again.

The redhead took some time to think about his answer. "I would say... He's doing the best he can." That's what he decided to answer.

However, the next question that came from the boy made him feel as if someone had taken his heart in their hands and mercilessly crushed it.

"And when... You're not even a person to begin with? How can you be better?"

Before he could respond, the redhead felt a hand on his shoulder. He quickly looked at his friend, who began to instruct him.

"He probably won't tell us his name, much less his location. Try to encourage him to seek help, he is not completely out of danger yet." The man spoke quickly, which was answered by a nod of agreement from Oda.

The young man turned to the phone. "Kid... Are you going to see a psychologist? A psychiatrist?"

If the boy was momentarily surprised by the sudden change of subject, he didn't comment. "No..." he replied hesitantly.

"How about you go home and ask your parents so you can visit one? I'm sure this will help." Oda offered.

"No!" The child exclaimed, in a louder and more desperate tone than any he had used before, frightening the two adults in the room. "I don't want to go back... My sister isn't home..." It was said in a whisper, but they still heard it and the anxious timbre that took over the voice only served to intensify their worries. 

Oda and Ango looked at each other. He really didn't want to have to think about the implications of this behavior, but he knew that, logically, he would have to do it. There were infinite reasons why the boy didn't want to go home. At best, his guardians just grounded him and the boy ran away, not wanting to come back and face this. However, in the worst case scenario, it wasn't even safe for him to return. They couldn't really work on theories alone, but Oda found himself almost completely powerless in this situation. 

"Okay, so we could call a social worker and..."

"Mori is calling me." The boy spoke with a trembling voice, interrupting him. "It looks like you really succeeded in keeping me alive, but I'm not sure I should thank you for that. I'm really sorry."

And the line went dead.

The two adults were silent for a while, before Oda put the phone back down.

Ango raised his hand to his face and adjusted his glasses, with a frown on his face. "What were you thinking with that story? After all the work I went through to clear your record, you can't go around telling this to just anyone." He scolded. 

Oda shrugged. "It's just a child. And I didn't even say it was me, so it shouldn't be a problem." He tried to defend himself, although he knew it was practically a losing battle. "Do you think I handled the situation poorly?"

The brunette sighed heavily. "I don't think so. It seems like everything worked out in the end, although I wish you had at least used a different story." He said and the redhead looked away from his sharp gaze. "Although it is still worrying. I would suggest looking for the boy, but we have absolutely no information about him other than that he's ten years old and lives in Yokohama. We can look from that name he mentioned, 'Mori', but that's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

Oda looked out the window with an almost melancholy look adorning his features, staring at the infinite navy blue silk sheet that covered the Earth like a warm blanket; stars and a bright moon looking back at him. "Will the child be okay?" The redhead wouldn't lie, the boy reminded him a little of himself, with that dead voice and the tone of someone who seemed to have seen everything in life. That had been part of the reason he had chosen to tell his story to the boy.

Ango positioned himself next to him, looking at the almost deserted traffic below the window, before letting out another tired sigh. "Only time will tell us."

It wouldn't be hyperbole to say that the echo of that child's voice remained in Oda's head for the next few weeks.

Chapter Text

The 20-year-old red-haired man took another sip of his coffee, although he was eager to get home and eat that spicy curry from the day before that was waiting for him in the fridge. It wasn't long before his cup was empty and he placed it back on the table, drumming his fingers lightly as he waited for another call.

Oda had, for some reason, decided to remain as a suicide prevention hotline attendant and had been there for approximately two years; this being the same amount of time since he became enchanted by psychology and decided to start a course.

There were several reasons for this choice of course. He would say that he simply enjoyed helping others and the experience with people seeking help seemed to have opened his eyes to the profession. One case in particular has not left the confines of his mind: that of the ten-year-old boy who called him at almost eleven o'clock at night on the edge of a bridge - even though two years have passed since that call -. It was almost an impulse, he felt the desire to ensure that no child would ever go through anything like that again. Unfortunately, they were unable to find the boy, but Oda hoped with all his heart that he was okay.

Of course, he still wanted to be a writer, but he was fully aware that that alone wouldn't keep him alive unless his books were successful, so he decided to take it up as a side profession - even though he hadn't completed any books yet. 

Furthermore, Ango certainly also had a share of the blame for his choice, but he had nothing to do other than thank the man.

Speak of the devil, he heard footsteps right behind him and turned to face the newcomer, seeing his friend entering his cubicle.

"Oda-san." Ango greeted, sitting on the chair next to him and adjusting the position of a potted plant that rested on the table, before looking directly at Oda's face. He raised an eyebrow. "Have you been shaving?"

The redhead let out a simple huff, before shaking his head softly. "I'm out of time, now that I study in the morning and work in the afternoon." He replied, before looking back at Ango. "You look as tidy as ever."

The brunette leaned against his chair. "Of course, a well-groomed appearance inspires greater trust in people towards me." He said, slightly raising his round glasses. "You should take better care of yourself too." Ango's gaze looked at the redhead's messy hair with a critical look, although it wasn't really insistent like it normally was.

Oda blinked slowly and was about to respond, but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He picked it up and answered it quickly, uttering the usual phrase he always said when he answered the phone, but the voice that came from the other end of the line caught him off guard.

"Hello, can you hear me?" This is what was said in a worryingly exhausted tone, which seemed out of place coming from a voice that seemed so young. The redhead felt like he had heard that same voice before and, with one look at Ango, he realized that his friend felt the same way he did. The ten year old boy from two years ago was the first thing that came to his mind. Still, there were other times when children called that number, so he didn't rush.

Oda did his best to regain his composure, clearing his throat. "Yes, how are you?" He asked calmly.

"Do you remember me?" The boy on the other end of the line replied, ignoring his question. This only reinforced his theory, but he still wasn't sure.

"It depends. Do you have anything you can tell me so I can be sure I remember correctly?"

The line was static for a moment, as if the boy was thinking, until he made a noise of confirmation. "You told me the story of the ex-assassin who wanted to be a writer."

So it really was the boy, after all, he hadn't told that story to anyone else after this fiasco. Oda allowed himself a sigh of relief, seeing that the boy was still alive. He couldn't be sure if he was okay, but the fact that he was still among them was something. However, he didn't allow himself to relax: if the boy had called that number again, it could mean that he was perhaps putting himself in danger once again.

"I remember you." Oda replied, frowning slightly when he heard a sniffle. "Can you tell me your name this time?"

"Hmmm..." The boy on the other end of the line echoed, as if he was thinking. "No!" He exclaimed in an obviously and painfully false tone. Ango and Oda looked at each other, but the redhead didn't insist. Oda opened his mouth to ask if the boy was in immediate danger, but was interrupted. "And don't worry, I'm not one step away from death. Maybe, if you considered the pack with thirty Rivotril 2.0mg tablets that I have stored there..." The child replied, as if reading his thoughts. It seemed like he said the last part mostly to himself, but the other two heard it anyway.

The two adults frowned even more, although they were almost certain that the boy's objective was to reassure them. Oda wondered how on earth a boy of about twelve years old had free access to a prescription drug like this. This only expanded his theories about the boy's home life, hypotheses that had remained dormant after so long without news. Either way, it was crystal clear that the boy was having suicidal thoughts and that was the likely reason for the call. With that, Oda decided to try to distract him by asking about other things that he considered mundane.

"And school, how's it going there?" He asked after receiving an encouraging nod from Ango.

From the deafening silence that took over the line, the redhead assumes that wasn't a good course of action. To his surprise, however, he still received a response.

"I don't know. It's not that bad, I usually have the best grade in my class and most teachers are fine with me for that. But..." Another pause was made, as if the boy was pondering what he should say. "Children are bad. If I could just..." The boy stopped suddenly and it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything more about it.

Oda planned to ask about friendships, but realized it wasn't a topic that the kid would exactly welcome. On the other hand, he imagines that talking about the subjects and his grades would be a good way to go. He looked at Ango, silently asking for confirmation, but the man just shrugged. It was strange that his friend was giving him so much freedom on how to proceed, but he wasn't going to complain.

"Well, what's your favorite subject?" He asked slowly.

"I like chemistry!" The boy replied and Oda allowed himself a small victorious smile when he noticed the sudden excitement in the boy's voice. "Don't you find it fascinating to study what we're made of? Where we came from? The composition of everything that surrounds us?" He continued with an excitement that was not present before. "It is, in a way, philosophical, don't you think?"

The redhead felt his smile stretch. "I assume so."

Before he could say anything more, the boy continued. "But still, it is very different from philosophy. Philosophy seeks not only to know where we come from and what we are made of, but mainly seeks the meaning of life. I think this is unnecessary, after all, life has no meaning. It's just an annoying little thing that was pushed on us and now we have to deal with it." The child paused to breathe.

Oda didn't dare cut his monologue, but he couldn't help but worry. It was easy to forget how young the person he was talking to was. The depth of the child's thinking was almost unbelievable and, apparently, Ango noticed it too. But his thoughts about the meaning of life were, without a shadow of a doubt, troubling. However, neither of them commented and continued listening to the boy.

"Chemistry, on the other hand!" He exclaimed. "Things just are. It doesn't need to make sense, the atoms and molecules are simply there. There are no complex thoughts about the meaning of their existence, there are no wasted nights trying to decipher the reason they exist. That's what I love most about chemistry." The boy said, before stopping for a while, panting, then releasing a small forced laugh. "I'm sorry, I said too much."

Oda let out a small laugh, trying to ease the boy's worries. "You don't need to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm glad there's at least something about school that you like so much."

"And you? Did you have a favorite subject?" The child asked back, in a curious tone.

The redhead stopped for a moment. As a teenager, he practically didn't go to school thanks to his livelihood, but he still managed to pass the year. However, most of the subjects didn't catch his attention and he only did enough to get an average. Before he could say this, one subject in particular flashed to his memory.

"I think the essay." He replied, continuing only when he heard a noise of confirmation from the boy. "I always liked writing and I always made the most of these classes, even if the topic was often not free. Most of the time, the themes were about social problems and I couldn't exactly use my creativity." Oda finished, letting out a small laugh at the last sentence he uttered.

The boy on the other end of the line remained silent for a moment. "I want to read a story from you someday." He expressed in a soft voice. "I'm sure it would be interesting."

Oda's voice also softened and he allowed a small smile to appear on his face. "Maybe someday."

Suddenly, a sharp sound resounded throughout the room and the redhead recognized it as the alarm on Ango's phone, which indicated that their shift had already ended. The other man was quick to turn it off.

"Ah, I'm sorry for keeping you here so long." The boy apologized, but made no move to hang up. "But I still have one question."

"You can say."

"You don't answer alone, right?"

Oda raised an eyebrow, but didn't show any reaction beyond that. "Correct. Why?"

The boy let out a laugh. "Anything. I just wanted to be sure. This person won't break the code of ethics, I hope." It sounded like a threat, but his tone wasn't scathing.

"You can be sure he won't." The redhead spoke calmly, before resting his elbows on the table. "I have a question for you too, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead."

"Are you fine?"

The line was silent for a while, before the boy's falsely excited tone filled the room. "Of course! I..."

"No." Oda interrupted. "Are you fine?"

The boy's facade seemed to crumble for a moment as a small sniffle could be heard. Despite this, he responded sincerely afterwards. "No, not really. But talking to you made it better, so I'll be fine." He said, his voice trembling slightly. Even so, Oda felt relieved.

The silence lasted for a few more moments, before the boy regained his composure. "I'll let you go, it must have been about five minutes since that alarm went off! Bye-bye, gentle stranger!" He finished, before the line died.

Silence still remained in the air for a few minutes, before a noise similar to a small laugh was heard. Oda stared at his friend, dumbfounded. The always rigid and composed Ango, laughing? Of course, the man had laughed before in his presence, but it was extremely rare. The brunette stood up with his briefcase in hand, leaving the cubicle they were in to make room for the attendants on the next shift.

"See you tomorrow, 'gentle strange'." Ango spoke in an almost monotonous tone, betrayed only by the small hint of amusement that could be identified in her, before walking away. Oda felt his face heat up slightly. So the reason his friend was laughing was the nickname.

Even though he felt a little embarrassed, he couldn't help but feel warm inside at that title.

Chapter Text

Oda sighed, already missing the presence of his jet-haired friend with round glasses and stoic demeanor. No, the man hadn’t died, but he had been transferred to accompany someone else, since the redhead had recently graduated in psychology and therefore no longer needed supervision.

The course he chose to take was intriguing and he found himself falling more and more in love with the field with each subject he studied. With the exception of statistics - seriously, who was the sociopath who put math into psychology? It should certainly be a crime -, but, overall, he felt more and more certain that this was his profession. However, he still felt the same way when it came to writing, so he didn't give up on it: he started writing the third volume of that book whose ending would originally be horrible, but it was still at the beginning.

Unfortunately, he still didn't have a house with an ocean view to go along with his dreams, but that was understatement, honestly.

He had also, at some point in the last three years, adopted five orphans he found on the streets: their parents had died in various ways, from being caught in the crossfire of gang fights to fatal accidents. Somehow, his salary was enough to support them and he had a few friends willing to help watch them, so he would say he was content.

Oda was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the incessant ringing of the phone through the room. He promptly answered and said the usual phrase.

“Hello. Can you hear me?” That's what was said on the other end of the line. The redhead couldn't help but feel a certain familiarity with the phrase, but he didn't recognize the voice, so he let it slide. He looked like a boy in his teens.

“Hi, how are you? Need help?” Oda replied with practiced ease, almost robotically. A noise could be heard from the person he was talking to. For a moment, he thought it was from shock, but quickly realized it was more victorious than anything.

“Do you remember me?” The person spoke with an almost monotonous tone, but a hint of excitement could still be heard. The man tried to pull, from the depths of his mind, people with a voice similar to that, but he was unable to identify them. 

Before he could say that he didn't remember, the individual he was talking to let out a small laugh. “I called you two other times, the first time I was on the edge of the bridge and the second time we talked about school.” That's what was said and Oda immediately remembered the child who had called the suicide prevention line not once, but twice.

He would admit, the child had never really left his mind, thoughts that asked if he was okay came back every now and then, but he didn't focus on that - after all, three years had passed. The redhead allowed himself a relieved smile, seeing that the boy was okay. But still calling that number...

“I think we should exchange names. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three is standard.” The boy said softly, breaking him out of his thoughts. “My name is Dazai Osamu.”

“I’m Sakunosuke Oda. Aren't you scared that I'm going to look for you?” Oda asked calmly, having seen no harm in telling the child his name. “Your previous condition is very worrying, I'm sure you know.”

A laugh left the boy's - Dazai - lips. “I know. But I wouldn't let you find me anyway, so I'm not that worried.” The boy sighed. “And can I call you Odasaku? Your last name is so complicated to pronounce!” Dazai whimpered.

Oda was sure the boy was doing this on purpose, but he still felt an amused smile bloom on his face. “Feel free.” He replied, before a more serious look took over his face. “Are you in danger?”

“Not yet, unfortunately.” It was his response, which made the redhead bite his lip lightly. These thoughts of the boy have been going on for what, five years? There could definitely be dysthymia there. But he couldn't really make the diagnosis having only had three calls with Dazai, so he would just remain on his theories.

When the boy didn't make any further moves to speak, Oda took control of the conversation. He would try to distract him while he took the opportunity to get more information that could be useful to help him. “How are things at home? At school?” He asked lightly, praying to any god that may exist that both of their answers would be positive. 

“At home... Ah, the same as always.” Dazai replied with a dead tone, which made Oda frown. “I'm just kinda sad that my older sister left home, so now I'm alone.” He continued, which made the man's frown deepen. Dazai had only mentioned his sister once in the past and it had been clear that she was something of a lifeline for him. However, his next response made him soften. “But school has been good!” It was said in an excited voice, completely contradicting his previous attitude.

The redhead smiled, trying to calm his thoughts. “Oh? What happened that made you like this?”

“There's a new guy who joined my school a few weeks ago.” Oda could practically feel Dazai's smile as the boy spoke. “At first, I thought he was very annoying and we didn't get along at all, we even got into a fight and ended up in the director's office!” He let out a laugh, pausing.

“I guess I should be scolding you, but tell me: did you win?” The man asked with a serious tone, despite the small smile that adorned his face. His smile only grew when a loud laugh echoed on the other end of the line.

“Odasaku! I didn't expect this from you!” The laughter continued for a few more seconds, before the boy calmed down. “Of course! And the bet was that whoever lost would be the other person's dog, so now he's my puppy!” He proclaimed in a triumphant tone.

Oda let out a small laugh. “Just don't go too far with it, okay?”

“Fine.”

“So, do you two get along now?” The redhead asked softly.

“I would say so. We sit next to each other in the classroom and he spends most of the breaks with me.” He said. “I just don’t like it when he forces me to eat more, eating is so difficult! Even more so if I'm going to vomit afterwards anyway.” Dazai whined.

Oda frowned. Did the boy also have an eating disorder? Or could this be some kind of selectivity or rigidity about different types of food that he was used to? Once again, he didn't have enough information to define this with certainty, so he remained silent, letting the boy continue his ramblings.

“Did I mention he has a terrible fashion sense? Even in uniform, he convinced the director to allow him to keep that ugly hat of his.” Dazai mocked. “Seriously, it's so tacky! And he still has the audacity to talk about my bandages!” He whimpered.

Oda raised an eyebrow. “Bandages?”

The boy hesitated for a moment. “I have some bandages on my body, but they are just new fashion trends!” He spoke quickly. 

There was no indication that it was a lie, but the redhead still couldn't help but worry, adding that to the situation the boy seemed to be living in at home. Not to mention that "fashion trends" seemed like a great excuse, but he couldn't just accuse Dazai of lying.

“But anyway!” The boy broke him out of his thoughts. “Ch- The guy I'm talking about also plays on the school football team and sometimes things get a little violent. It's really fun to see him getting red cards for fighting with someone who pissed him off!” Dazai laughed. “And…”

Oda smiled, content to let him ramble for a few more moments. The feeling of success permeated his being, as it seemed that the boy was no longer having suicidal thoughts at that moment.

“...I would pay to see him break that other guy's nose one more time!” The boy seemed to finish, before sighing. “It seems I've taken up too much of his time once again, I'm sorry.” Dazai spoke shyly, although there was no real regret in his tone.

Oda smiled, seeing that it hadn't even been eleven minutes into the call. “No problem.” He reassured. “You know, if you weren't underage, I would invite you to drink at Bar Lupin with my friend and me so we could talk more.” He spoke without thinking.

A laugh could be heard on the other end of the line. “Should you be saying that, Odasaku!?” The boy asked, his laughter not dying down for a while longer.

“No, it shouldn't.” The redhead replied, despite the soft smile that adorned his face, letting out a small laugh soon after. “So how are you now?”

“Better now.” Dazai replied softly. It still wasn't perfect, but it was still something. “I admit that I only called here because I was lonely and the voices were unbearable, I needed someone to talk to and I knew you would listen to me.”

Oda raised an eyebrow. “And how did you know that I would be the one to answer? It could have been any other colleague of mine.” He asked, although there was no accusation in his tone, just curiosity.

“Knowing!” The boy laughed once again and this time the redhead felt that he was laughing at him and not with him. Still, he didn't feel uncomfortable and allowed a resigned smile to appear on his face.

“You know…” Oda began, speaking slowly to make sure she had Dazai's full attention. “I think you could benefit from therapy. What do you think about looking for one?”

The boy's mood seemed to drop. “My… father… wouldn't like that.” He said, the resentment in his voice becoming obvious.

“You can look at your school, your father wouldn't need to…” Oda said, but was interrupted.

“I just want to talk to Odasaku.”

“In that case, I can…”

The line went dead.

The redhead gave a tired sigh. He was about to give out his personal number so the boy could contact him when he needed to talk again before Dazai hung up, but he was kind of glad he did before he said it. Oda thinks he couldn't just do that, especially with the boy being a minor and not having permission from his guardians.

Dealing with people was difficult, Oda thinks, especially unstable ones. But he supposes that was the exact reason he chose this profession.

Chapter Text

Oda let out a yawn, greatly regretting having changed his shift to the morning shift, while leaving the afternoon shift for the private appointments he provided. Ango had, fortunately, found a place for Oda at the clinic he worked at and the redhead had been doing private consultations there for just over six months. He would say it was immensely lucky, as it had only been about a year since he had graduated.

He took a sip of the coffee in front of him, trying his best to stay awake. No matter how long he continued waking up early, he would never get used to the feeling of having his sleep - which is already little - interrupted. Pulling all-nighters as teenagers really took a toll on him a little, perhaps. It also didn't help that he had five traumatized children to look after, but he thought he was doing a good job with it.

The redhead suddenly heard the phone ring and prepared himself for another conversation, placing his glass on the table and answering the phone. After saying the same phrase as always, he immediately recognized the voice that greeted him.

"Hello. Can you hear me?"

Oda smiled, immediately recognizing the caller. "Dazai-kun. How are you doing?" He asked softly. This time there was a shorter period of time between calls made, just a year. He momentarily wonders why Dazai always repeats the same phrase, but he decided not to express his doubts.

"I think..." The boy interrupted himself. "I don't know. I just wanted to talk to you, Odasaku."

Silence reigned for a while, before Oda broke it. "This time are you going to tell me how you knew I was the one who would answer?"

"Hmmm... Should I?" Dazai made a thoughtful noise, sounding amused.

"Please." Oda asked in a monotonous tone of voice.

The boy let out a small laugh. "Okay." He spoke softly. "I called this number several times at different times and cataloged the hours of everyone who answered me and went by elimination. It always takes a while to figure out which shift you work, especially when you change schedules, but it was worth it!"

Oda was surprised at all the trouble Dazai went to just so he could talk to him. Well, his colleagues had commented, from time to time, about the same person who seemed to be young who had called almost all of them and who they thought was a prank call. Adding to this, Oda now realizes that perhaps this young man could be Dazai, trying to figure out his schedule.

"You should spend your time studying, not looking for a mere suicide prevention hotline operator to talk to." Oda scolded briefly, although he was still shocked by the boy's dedication.

"School is very easy." Dazai complained. "I already have the best grades in school, why study more? I needed a challenge and this was the best thing I could find! And I like talking to you, too."

"I'm happy with that." Oda smiled softly. "But why did you choose me, specifically, to talk to?"

The line was quiet for a moment and the redhead let it be, as it seemed like Dazai needed some time to think. The silence didn't last long. 

"Odasaku is... Special." That was all he replied.

"Could you elaborate?" Oda encouraged gently, afraid of losing the progress he had made so far.

"You really listen to me, you care about what I think even though you shouldn't. You..." The boy seemed to choke on his words, pausing, before letting out a slight sniffle. Oda vaguely realized that this might be part of the reason the boy repeats the same phrase every time he calls: to ensure he will be heard and not just talk to a wall. "You treat me as if I were human."

Oda was about to say that he was human, but he couldn't say anything as the boy continued.

"I know I don't deserve this, but..." Another sniff was heard, his voice sounding as choked as the voice of a boy in his mid-teens could sound. "It's so good. That feeling, I say. You kind of remind me of my sister, but we don't have time to actually stop and talk like we used to."

Everything went silent once again. Oda was lost in thought, thinking about what the hell had happened so bad to this boy that made him believe he wasn't human. With that, he didn't let the stillness last for long.

"Dazai-kun, listen to me well." The redhead called, continuing only when he heard a confirming noise. "You are, undeniably, human." He stated resolutely. Before the boy could make any move to try and deny it, Oda continued. "I don't know what you went through to make you think that way and, if you want to tell me, feel free, but even without knowing this I can say with certainty: you are as human as any of us." He paused, letting the information sink in. "Would a non-human being be so excited about trivial things, like subjects at school or a new friend?"

"I don't think so..." Dazai replied lightly, with a still trembling voice.

"Would a non-human being try so desperately to look for reasons to stay alive, even when he no longer sees the point in doing so? The mere fact that you think about it makes you human." Oda spoke calmly.

A small sob could be heard on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry for losing my composure." Dazai said, seeming to be forcing his voice to remain composed. "I'll think about what you said."

The man frowned slightly, realizing that the mood had cooled considerably. With that, he decided to divert the topic momentarily to cheer up.

"And the school? How have you been?" He thought about whether he should mention the boy's house, but he knew that if he mentioned it the boy would withdraw into his shell.

To his surprise, the boy seemed excited, seeming to have turned a hundred and eighty degrees from his previous mood. "School's going great! Nobody bothers me anymore, thanks to my good guard dog!" He exclaimed with a happy tone, although still a little weak.

Oda raised an eyebrow. "Guard dog? Do they let you take a dog to school?"

"Of course not!" Dazai let out a laugh. "Remember that boy I told you about before? It's him."

"Oh, yes." The redhead replied, quickly remembering the boy that Dazai had mentioned who had lost a bet with him and, since then, should become his 'dog'. He's actually surprised this has gone on this long. 

"When he found out that some of my colleagues were picking on me, he got really angry, it was actually funny!" The boy laughed. "But he ended up on the board again for fighting with them - or rather, beating them. And he came out without a scratch!" Dazai spoke with an amused tone. "As expected of my little dog!"

Oda smiled. It was a strange dynamic, but they seemed to genuinely care about each other, so he was in no position to complain; especially if this boy was protecting Dazai. "I'm glad everything is going well there." He said softly, before proceeding to a slightly more delicate subject. "Do you still want to die?" He hoped, with all his being, that the answer to that question was no, but he had a feeling it would be the exact opposite.

There was no response for a moment, until a small forced laugh could be heard.

"It's what I want most in this world."

Before Oda could say anything, the line went dead.

The redhead felt as if his heart had dropped into his stomach, and as he looked at his reflection in the window, he realized that almost all the color had drained from his face. A feeling of failure attacked him inside. Calls with Dazai usually ended with him confirming that he wouldn't die, at least not that day. However, this time, there was no confirmation that he would not attempt against his life, quite the opposite: it just left more space to think that he would end it all.

Oda remembers the boy saying that it wouldn't hurt to tell him his own name because the man wouldn't be able to find him.

Still, that didn't stop him from trying.

Chapter Text

Time passed in a blur for Oda. The last two years were filled with uncertainty about the boy who continued to call the suicide hotline from time to time. He tried looking for Dazai, but his searches were fruitless, almost as if he were a ghost. Oda had tried everything: from online research to visiting bridges in Yokohama - which were the only place he was sure the boy frequented, perhaps often -. Even so, there were no results.

The redhead had started his postgraduate degree in psychology a little over a year ago and was about to finish it, a fact that made him sad, since that was what kept him distracted from his daily worries, as well as his children. The children were truly a godsend when it came to distracting him, but it's not like he could spend all his time with them, after all, they needed to study and Oda needed to work.

Ango had also been a good distraction from his inner anxieties. His friend, after noticing the stress that was being accumulated in Oda, invited him to drink at the same bar they always visited and they talked a lot. Whenever they had these little drinking and chatting sessions, it was like a weight was lifted off the redhead's shoulders - it was therapeutic, in a way - and he wasn't worried about getting addicted to alcohol either, since these outings were set up carefully so that there was no room to create dependency. 

Even so, thoughts of Dazai still lingered in his mind from time to time.

He didn't understand why that specific boy had rented a space in his mind. Maybe it was his incessant desire to die, or the way he completely dehumanized himself, or it was simply because Oda had a soft spot for children and wanted to help them as much as possible.

'He's not a child anymore' – His mind supplied uselessly. If he was still alive, the boy must have been around eighteen years old, on the cusp of adulthood. Hopefully this meant he had somehow gotten out of his allegedly abusive home.

The redhead hoped that Dazai was in a better environment, overall. Or, at the very least, alive.

Guilt seemed to eat away at him, even though Oda was aware that he wasn't guilty of anything, and neither was Dazai. He felt like he had failed in his job, even though he didn't even know if the boy had actually killed himself or not. The man knew, however, that he shouldn't let himself be bogged down by this feeling, it was just his brain playing tricks on him.

Oh, how he wished there was an off switch in the brain. It would be charming.

Before Oda could be sucked even deeper into his thoughts, the shrill noise of the phone filled the room. Oh yes, he was still at his job. He should stop being so distracted during work hours.

Without further ado, he answered the phone and said the usual phrase. However, the line remained silent, which caused his brow to furrow. For a moment, he thought he had heard it wrong and no one had called, but he quickly dismissed the possibility as he could hear sounds of moving cars, choppy water, and occasionally the howling wind. A feeling of nostalgia almost took over him, but he quickly pushed it away. 

"Hello? Is everything fine?" Oda insisted, trying to get some response from whoever had called him at... He looked at his watch. Almost eleven o'clock at night. More specifically, half past ten.

This was too familiar for his taste.

The silence lasted for a moment longer, before a hesitant voice could be heard. "Hi." That's what was said, and Oda immediately recognized the voice, despite noticing that it was a little deeper than before.

"Dazai-kun." He spoke softly, but without allowing himself to relax. If his guess was correct, this call was similar to the first of them all. He had noticed the lack of the boy's signature phrase, but didn't comment. "I'm glad you're okay. You want to talk?"

Another round of silence, but the redhead waited patiently, knowing that rushing him was definitely not a good idea, especially if the boy was in danger - or one literal step away from death.

"Tell me, Odasaku." Dazai began suddenly, pausing. "What's the point of living? What's the point of continuing with this ungodly thing that is life?" His tone showed nothing but exhaustion, just like on the first call. It felt like a limit had finally been reached and Oda really didn't want to have to dissect it.

Despite how bad things seemed, the redhead remained calm: he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about what he should say. "Why do you want to die so much?" He decided to ask instead of immediately providing the answer to the boy.

"That's not fair, Odasaku. I asked first."

"And I asked second." Oda replied seriously. 

Another moment of silence passed before a choked laugh left the boy's lips, before he became serious again.

To his surprise, Dazai continued to answer his question. "For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to die." He said, his voice breaking briefly at the end. "There is something substantially wrong with me, I can't even be called 'human'. I can't see the point or feel pleasure in being alive, so why should I continue? I didn't ask to be born, I should at least be able to choose when and how I die..." He finished, sighing heavily at the end.

Oda was silent for a while, before sighing. It seems that the situation was even more complicated than he initially imagined. "If that's the case, you won't find the meaning of being alive anywhere." He stated, hearing a resigned sigh on the other end of the line. "But, in my personal opinion, killing yourself is not an option either."

A broken laugh was heard. "So what should I do, Odasaku?" Dazai asked with a trembling voice that seemed to send needles to his heart.

"Instead of trying to find meaning in life, why don't you try to create one yourself?" The redhead replied calmly. "Be kind to others, help people. Adopt some orphans, maybe." He said, letting out a small nasal laugh at the last part, remembering of himself. "I know nothing I say will convince you, at least not right away, but I'll say it again anyway. You are undeniably human, Dazai-kun." Oda continued, emphasizing his point of view. "More human than many people who walk this in this earth."

A small sniffle could be heard. "You don't know. You don't know who I am, you don't know what I did." The boy spoke, his voice getting lower and lower with each word that was said.

"You're right, I know almost nothing about you." Oda admitted. "But I'm pretty sure you're still the same kid who got excited about a school subject and a new friend. This is so human of you and you don't seem to be aware of it." He said, leaving no room for discussion.

A moment of silence passed, before a forced laugh could be heard. "You shouldn't remember that. What do you have, elephant memory?" He whispered, but Oda managed to hear him anyway and let a small smile appear on his face at the joke. "But what if I told you that, even so, I still want to die?" Dazai continued.

The redhead bit his lip, deciding his answer. "If you really want to die, I can't stop you. But I want you to be absolutely sure that you want to do this, that this is the only solution." That's what he decided to say. There wasn't much he could do at that point, especially when Dazai seemed so determined. It was a risk he would have to take.

Oda expected, with his heart in his hands, to hear the noise of the wind intensifying and the sound of flesh hitting the surface of the watery body in which the boy was probably above, but, to his surprise, he heard the sound of footsteps. He held back a sigh of relief when he could no longer hear the sound of the water.

"Thank you, Odasaku." That was all that was said before the line went dead.

This whole situation left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he hoped, with all his being, that Dazai would never have to call that number again, even if it meant they would never talk again.

Chapter Text

Dazai felt the wind bounce off his face, ruffling his brown curls and coat. He looked down, the almost crystal clear water greeting him back. Car horns became background noise as he sighed deeply. He's been in that exact position several times before.

After all, it was a perfect scenario to commit suicide, he supposes. 

The brunette thought about his life so far, the corners of his lips rising slightly. Despite his troubled childhood, he arrived in a good place. Currently, he was working at the Armed Detective Agency, an agency that had some private detectives for more violent cases, such as those involving gangs and the mafia - a delicate subject for him, but one of which he had great knowledge, although he had it begrudgingly -. He had taken the Professional Investigation course from the age of eighteen to twenty and, from that moment on, worked at the agency as a detective.

Perhaps his position in his work was the result of a little nepotism. After all, his sister, Akiko, worked there and offered him a position. However, it wasn't a bad thing: at eighteen, Dazai wasn't able to leave Mori's house immediately like his sister did, quite the opposite, it seemed like the man insisted even more on keeping him close. Seeing his struggle, Akiko called him so he could live with her in the Agency's dormitories for a while until he could settle down somewhere and the brunette readily accepted the invitation. Even so, he still took the admission test like any other member.

It took him a while to get used to his colleagues - and he wouldn't lie, he missed Chuuya, because, despite not having cut off contact with him completely, they still spoke little to each other these days -, but even so, he did his best to be friendly with those he would come to see every day.

Dazai remembers, fondly, the first time he played chess with Ranpo. The older man was very intelligent, rivaling himself and, Dazai dare say, Mori. It had been an intense match, which took much longer than usual and the brunette would say it was much more fun than normal. If he felt a little warm inside when Ranpo praised him, well, only he himself would know.

Soon after, Dazai remembers Kunikida. The former mathematics teacher was rigid and systematic, always wanting to follow his ideals and not go out of line, and that was exactly what made him unique and interesting in the brunette's eyes. It was still a little annoying when Kunikida made him eat, but he supposes it was fair since Dazai himself irritated him to death with his pranks and jokes - it seems the blond man was the only one who wasn't already immune to his pranks and that never failed to amuse him.

There was also Junichirou, who had joined not long after he himself had joined the agency. Although not very close to him, Dazai often found himself talking to him about cats. The interactions, although short, were good.

He couldn't help but remember the children. There were two of them: Kenji and Kyoka. They only recently joined and worked only within the agency, since, as they were minors, they were not legally allowed to participate in cases that required more physical effort. Dazai also barely saw them, as they only stayed at the agency for about four hours a day. The brunette didn't talk much with Kenji, but he sympathized immensely with Kyoka, as the girl also came from a home that had connections with the mafia and it didn't take long to discover that she did some dirty jobs that were ordered, just like he did.

Fukuzawa was also someone who had Dazai's respect and even, from time to time, acted like a father to them all and was, undeniably, the closest thing to a positive male figure he had in his life. The brunette also found his habit of taking in stray dogs funny, after all, he was one himself. But he just had to thank the man.

A certain silver-haired boy came into his mind, causing his smile to become a little more affectionate. Dazai found him- or rather, the boy found him on the edge of a river. When he discovered that Atsushi was an orphan who had just been kicked out of his orphanage, the brunette immediately remembered Odasaku's words about adopting some orphans and decided, without further ado, to help the boy.

Oh, Odasaku.

He has never called the suicide hotline again since he turned eighteen. Not because his desire to die was over, no, quite the opposite. But rather because he didn't know what he would say to Odasaku.

The other man may not have known, but Dazai held his opinion in high regard. The brunette constantly scolded himself for this, he didn't even know the man personally, for God's sake! And it also didn't take long to discover that the ex-assassin in the story that Odasaku had told him was nobody but him. Of course, all the confirmation he had was the answer the man gave when asked if the former assassin had managed to become a better person, but it was still enough.

But still, it was Odasaku who stopped him from killing himself every time he called, regardless of any dark past he had, regardless of anything the brunette said to him.

Dazai had a habit of trying to kill himself. But most of these attempts were not serious, they were innocent at best - tests, if you wanted to call them that. However, every time he called Odasaku, it was because he really planned to kill himself. Most of the time, he didn't even expect him to stay alive, he just hoped he could hear the other man's voice for the last time and, to his surprise, Odasaku always managed to dissuade him from his ideas.

'Would Odasaku be proud of me?' - That's what his mind whispered. Despite all the external noises that resonated around him, his internal voice was the only thing he could hear. Looking down at the water waiting for him below, Dazai sighed. 'Probably not. What is there to be proud of?' 

Despite his thoughts, the brunette didn't really plan on jumping. It would be a great disrespect to his - he dares to say - new family, not to mention it would be a waste of Odasaku's efforts to keep him alive - if the man still remembered him. But that didn't take away from the fact that he really wanted to jump.

Maybe he should call the suicide prevention hotline again?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard loud footsteps coming from behind him. Dazai slowly turned around, stopping to face the stranger. He was a middle-aged man with a thin beard, his hair appearing reddish-brown, its original shade almost unrecognizable due to the darkness of the night.

"How about you step away from that edge and we talk for a bit?" He spoke in a soft tone. Dazai's eyes widened briefly. He recognized this man's voice. Despite sounding deeper and more tired, this was undeniably Odasaku's voice.

The brunette controlled his expression and gave a small smile, although he knew it would be almost indistinguishable in that environment. He hummed lightly. "Hi, Odasaku. Are you going to tell me that story about the ex-assassin who wanted to be a writer again?" He replied with a light tone.

The man's eyes widened. "Dazai-kun?" He asked, looking incredulous, and Dazai nodded. Seeing a relieved smile spread across the man's face, the brunette felt his face heat up briefly at the possibility that someone - other than his family - had worried about him. "I'm glad you're okay, but it sucks that we always find ourselves in situations like this. Will you move away from the edge?" Odasaku said.

Dazai felt his smile stretch and he stepped away from the edge, approaching the other man. "Looks like you're my knight in shining armor! Or maybe a guardian angel!" The brunette laughed. "Always showing up at moments when I should be dying."

Odasaku frowned slightly. "I just want to help you and it seems like the universe wants that to happen too."

"In that case..." Dazai smiled softly. "I'm of legal age, I can drink now. What do you think about going to Bar Lupine to get drunk and complain about life, just like you proposed before?" He offered.

The redhead's features showed shock, as if he hadn't expected the brunette to remember that conversation, but he soon regained his composure and smiled.

"Of course, as long as you promise you won't try to kill yourself with alcohol poisoning."

The brunette felt a loud laugh come out of his throat.

Dazai thinks he could live a little longer and this time he wouldn't have to call the suicide hotline again.