Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.

First it was Dazai’s father. And then it was his mother. And finally, it was him; though it could be argued, against his will. The Japanese Health Care System didn’t take kindly to a problematic teenage boy living by himself in a dirty apartment in Tokyo. So at the age of fourteen Dazai decided to run away and hitch a train to the city of Yokohama, aware of his age and the authorities and the fact he was officially an orphan runaway. It didn’t take long until they found him again and his name had been spat and chewed through the system until he was stood with nothing but the clothes in his backpack at the train platform and a one-way ticket to a small seaside town in the rural West.

Dazai didn’t want to leave Yokohama. It was a port city that held the nostalgia of a past he could have had, and a future he wanted, but there were some things that had happened here that he wanted to forget. It was the only reason he hadn’t relented. When he had left his last foster family, he had vowed to never be put in that situation again. But Dazai was clever, and self-critical, and a quick thinker. He was aware of the crimes he had committed, and he was grateful for the options he’d been given. If it wasn’t for the promise he’d made, he would probably be serving time in Juvie right now. But he knew when his good luck had ended. Dazai could only commit so many crimes and run so many circles around the city until they would catch him again. And he was starting to run out of money…

Yukichi Fukuzawa. The name was meaningless, but it left a sour taste on Dazai’s tongue. He knew little about him, except that he ran a care home and was the President of some newspaper agency.

The boy had already made a secret pact to hate him. Dazai didn’t need a ‘caregiver’. He was already strong enough on his own, a fact he had already proved to the authorities’ multiple times. If it wasn’t for his stupid age. All anyone ever saw when they looked at him was a troubled young teen who had never experienced proper hard work. It was easy to judge a face that was able to contort and mirror the expectations of a society. But that was the point. Dazai didn’t want people to know how he truly felt, and he was ok with that.

He had decided to sit on train with his head in his knees and was refusing to look out the window in a pathetic stance of self-pity that made no one want to sit next to him. The train wasn’t very busy anyway.

It had been raining when he’d stepped off the platform, brown hair plastered to his skull and trainers damp, and the rain was still pouring now, droplets racing against the glass. His shoes dirtied the blue fabric of the chair, but he didn’t care. Above his head his rucksack rattled along with the vibrations of the track and the chatter of the rest of the passengers worked as gentle background noise. Dazai bit his lip and brooded.

Spring had arrived in Japan. 

At one point the tracks got especially bumpy and an object was suddenly rammed into his chest. It took him a moment to blink and get his wits before he realised his rucksack had fallen out of it’s hold. There was no point getting back up to put it away, he might as well hold it for the rest of the journey. The fabric dug into his palms just above his bandages, but he fell asleep like that anyway. He doubted there would be any reason not to let his guard down in a shit box of a train any who.

When Dazai opened his eyes next, blurs of green were streaking past, rice field after rice field, and then sudden bursts of forestry that tickled at the windows. He wondered what had woken him up. He was very far away from home now. A lump was beginning to form in his throat but there was no need to give it any attention.

The sign above the exit door was telling him the next stop was his.

At least you’ll have a bed, he told himself as he jumped off the platform, swinging his rucksack onto his back as he made his way out the station. At least you’ll have food. It had finally stopped raining, but the rural air was humid and damp and there were puddles everywhere. At least you can always leave. Dazai had been leaving a lot of places for a long time. He most recent makeshift home had been a storage container that had been abandoned on the port side, and it hadn’t been very insulating at night.

There was no car waiting to pick Dazai up, but he hadn’t expected one. In the pocket of his trousers was an address, and he asked a local who was waiting for the next train how to get there.

Dazai wouldn’t say he was necessary unhappy on his trek there, though it was very hilly, and he pitied the local cars for the number of potholes he passed. It seemed this was the type of place that suffered the most from lack of government funds. Or maybe no one ever wanted to come out here and fix it. He bet the power cuts lasted a long-time during storms.

The town was pretty, but pretty had never done Dazai any favours. It seemed his new home was outside of the town itself on top of a hill that overlooked the rest of the neighbourhood. The sea was glistening in the background like a postcard photo waiting to be taken. Dazai didn’t have a camera. And then after half an hour of dragging his feet and staring at nosy cows, he finally made it outside the house he was being expected to live in.

It was a traditional Japanese home, made of wood with large sliding doors. A greenish-grey Honda was parked in the driveway before a wooden gate that led to a garden which wrapped around the rest of the house. Inside a glow of orange lights could be seen, signally someone was home. It was a large house, too big for a man like Fukuzawa to live in by himself. Dazai bet the man had too much money on his hands and felt good about himself lending a safe space to ‘troubled’ teenagers. Not that he was troubled per say, but if he had to pick one it was that nobody else seemed to allow him to die, and every time he tried, they kept stopping him. So really, his trouble was someone else’s trouble, and not actually his to begin with.  

What was slightly odd was the main door was slid open, revealing some shoes that were neatly tucked at the side. Reluctantly Dazai made his way up the pebbled drive and stepped through the threshold, nudging the door open more with his right arm.

Respectfully, he took off his shoes, though mainly because they were wet through and uncomfortable to wear, and not out of politeness. He stood in the hallway awkwardly, eyes absorbing the wooden panelling and the large room that panned out in front of him. He was about to open his mouth and shout a hello when a flurry of footsteps came from somewhere in the house and suddenly a boy came charging into the room with a mob of dark brown hair. Dazai was expecting some kind of confrontation, one that most people would expect if finding a stranger in their house, but the boy either ignored or hadn’t seen Dazai at all. Either way, he wasn’t exactly sure how to respond.

“Fukuzawa, the newbies here!” The boy bellowed, swinging the door shut behind him and rushing away to a different room. So he had seen him!

There was another voice coming from the room the boy had just entered, but it was too gentle to pick up. And then green eyes were peering back round the doorframe.

“He says you can come in.” Dazai nodded in response.  

Shoulders slumped, Dazai forced himself into the room. The first thing that drew his attention was the large oak table that seemed to have been converted into an office. And sat at said table, surrounded by papers and now empty cups was a man who appeared most likely to be Fukuzawa.

Dazai bowed slightly once he entered and slung his rucksack off his back and onto the floor with a slight thud. It was making his shoulders sore.

Fukuzawa’s voice was deep, “I hope your train journey was pleasant Dazai. As you probably know, I’m Fukuzawa, your new caretaker.” Well at least he was to the point.

“Thank you for taking me in.”

The boy, now stood behind the table, raised an eyebrow at either his politeness or monotone voice, or both.

“This is Ranpo Edogawa, he’ll be living with you as your foster sibling until you’re both eighteen.” He paused as if to look out the window, “It’s only just stopped raining here, I’m sure you glad to finally see some sun.”

Dazai just nodded. He wanted this interaction to go as smoothly and as quickly as possible, so that he could figure out the best route of escaping this place. Or maybe he wouldn’t have to with the front door being wide open when he got here.

“I saw your front door was open, so I stepped inside. Is that usual?”

“As long as the weather permits it. This isn’t a prison Dazai, you’re welcome to come and leave as often as you want.”

His response wasn’t one Dazai had been expecting, but that was ok.

“Ranpo will show you to your new room. I’ve got some work to finish before dinner, so if you’ll excuse me for now.”

Ranpo, it seemed, wasn’t particularly thrilled at his new side quest but obeyed Fukuzawa’s orders none the less.

Dazai lifted his rucksack and followed him back out the room and down the main corridor. He noticed that there were framed photos on the walls, mainly black and white family photos, which Dazai assumed had been Fukazawa’s, along with some certificates that seemed work related.

“The bathrooms this one here,” Ranpo knocked on the first door they approached before turning right and pushing open another door that seemed to be smaller, “This one’s yours.”

Ranpo stood in the doorway as Dazai shuffled inside, blinking around in observation. It was one of the rooms that faced the front of the house and the view from his window was the road he’d taken up to get here, yet the sea was mostly blocked by the trees that surrounded the area. There was single western bed shoved against the wall under the window with a small side table and lamp, which surprised him a little as the house had appeared so traditional. Next to the door was a wardrobe and on the other side a desk. It was the most basic it was going to get but Dazai wasn’t a material-oriented sort of person, so he didn’t mind that much. He had no decorations or posters to put up, but interior design had never been a required speciality of his.

He turned around, expecting Ranpo to have run off but he was still there, watching Dazai with those ever observing eyes of his. Once he noticed Dazai had turned back around, he made a look to leave.

“Dinners at six by the way, don’t be late.” And then he spun on his heel and closed the door with a slight bang.

Dazai flopped down on his bed and took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. At least the sheets smelt clean.

He could already feel the place suffocating him. All it would take was a few small polite conversations with Fukuzawa and he’d be pulling his hair out. What he would do for some bands of mischief. He wished the house had been more centred in the village, maybe at the bottom of the hill near the train station so running away at night was just a tad bit easier and not an idle fascination.

He was slightly intrigued by Ranpo but had already decided the boy was a stuck up and probably wouldn’t be as much fun as he’d anticipated. He wondered where the other one was and if they’d be any better.

In an urge to kill boredom, Dazai unpacked his rucksack and what little items he had, including some clothes, a roll of clean bandages, toothbrush and his phone, and stored them away into their respective draws. He noticed the desk already contained its own pens and paper.

He assumed Fukuzawa would expect him to go to school. What a drag.

What was the time now? He deduced it must be just before 4 if his train had been supposed to have gotten in for 3:15 and it had taken at least twenty mins to walk here. He had time for a minor expedition before dinner.

And so, with a fax spring in his step, he made his way down the corridor and out the front door. He wondered if Fukuzawa was soon going be regretting his open-door policy.

Instead of taking the path he’d already tread, Dazai turned left after exiting the building along the road that went further into the trees. Sun was filtering between leaves, and he had to squint to avoid its rays, lifting a hand to block it out. The birds were singing as he skipped the puddles and made his way in what he hoped was further away from the village. The road surely didn’t have a dead end, potentially leading to a few neighbouring houses. But he saw nothing except wilderness.

A cat suddenly ran out across the road and back into the woods. Dazai halted and wondered if that had been some kind of omen. Not that he believed in them.

And then the trees cleared, and the path bent and Dazai was stood on a corner with a magnificent view of the entire village. Cars drove about like little ants retreating to their colony with leaves, and he could hear the laughter of children echoing across the valley. A train had just pulled into the station, and he watched the sun glint and reflect off its metal roof.

Near the sea there was a larger white-stone building with multiples windows that he could only assume it to be the school. The town even had its own port, and some boats were chugging in and out in a busy stream of sea traffic. It was a cute little place, but it had nothing on Yokohama.

Instead he started to kick a stone around the corner and continued walking until it hit something from among the grass side verges. From the corner of his eye an object jumped out at him, previously hidden by the tall vegetation. It was a stone statue of a small lion, half of it covered in moss, and it was guarding a path leading further up the mountain. Dazai took the stone steps. This wasn’t an expedition for nothing.

As he took a small breather near the top, he noticed the sun was starting to set and a pink glow was slowly encasing the sky behind him. A breeze lifted his bangs and tickled his forehead, and he lifted a hand to brush them to the side. The wind was also drawing in some clouds from the North, and Dazai turned back in a hurry to keep walking in case it started to rain again. Instead he was met with a shrine gate.

The red seemed out of place among the green. A warning.

He wondered what God was worshipped here, and he wondered if the town’s people often ventured up this cursed hill for it. A part of him wished it was abandoned in hopes of not having to meet anyone. However the stones steps looked cleaned and had no signs of being left to battle natures elements. Dazai took the steps anyway.  

As he finished his ascent, the oratory and main hall came into view and Dazai blinked around, expecting a shrine priest to pop his head out and give Dazai a small guide, or confront what he was up to. He saw no one. And so, in his curiosity, made his way forward. He could give a small prayer and then leave. It wasn’t a crime. He hadn’t been to a Shinto shrine in ages; maybe this could be the beginnings of some good luck.

There were more lion dogs guarding the front area, but they looked grander and more detailed than the one he saw by the road. They also didn’t have any moss on them. In the stone holder by the lion’s feet incense sticks were burning as though they’d been lit recently. Dazai hurried his steps.

The roof of the main hall was casting a shadow over the area and the tassels overhead swung precariously over the alter.  Dazai stood, bowed, rang the bell, made a prayer and bowed again. The wind was starting to pick up.

And then he was turning on his heel to make his way back home when something fluttered past him. It flickered and danced in the wind like a butterfly but when he saw what it was, he frowned. On first glance it seemed like an ordinary piece of parchment with ink writing, and only then did Dazai realise it was a seal, or a talisman; and they were spilling out of the shrine like escaped letters in a wind.

What the hell?

Dazai wasn’t sure what was going on, or why there as suddenly so many damn bits of paper but he wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, so he continued his way out hastily. But then one of the pieces of rectangle paper got stuck on his arm and he had to try to get it off. Destroy the evidence and all that.

No luck, the paper was stuck. His used his nails but it seemed hooked on his bandages for God’s sake.

Now the ink seemed to be fading. No wait, the parchment was fading, like rice paper in water. And then to his utter disbelief, Dazai watched the seal sink into his arm and through his bandages to his skin. And then it was gone.

Dazai’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. What was that just now?

Another piece got stuck, this time on his other arm and the same thing happened to that one too. He just couldn’t get them off. What was going on? And then the shrine hall doors banged open, and a flurry of these amulets came flying at Dazai, knocking him over until he was encased by them. And to his absolute horror every single one faded into his skin. He could feel them absorbing and they tickled, but they were starting to suffocate him. He lifted his head in an attempt to read some of the words, but they were moving as though they had a life of their own and the writing was impossible to make out.

Instead he screwed his eyes shut and gave up. Maybe they’d kill him. He could only hope.

Rationally this was probably a dream; maybe he’d fallen asleep on the path somewhere and none of this way really happening. Maybe his prayer had angered the God and now he was being cursed for it. And then as soon as they arrived, the seals vanished.  

Disorientated, Dazai sat up and looked around himself. The doors to the shrine were still open, but there was no longer a wind of a herd of flying paper. He started to question himself. And then after a beat of silence, an unfamiliar voice spoke up.

“Um, what are you doing?” There was someone behind him. Dazai tilted his head backwards to be met with blue eyes. They reminded him of the ocean.

A boy was standing on the steps with a questioning, furrowed gaze and Dazai wondered if he’d just seen what had happened and could therefore concur that he was not crazy.

“Did you see it too, the paper amulets?” Dazai jumped up onto his feet and rushed forward. The boy seemed slightly taken aback. He was wearing jeans and a grey hoodie with a dark green zip up jacket over the top and was sporting short ginger hair. Dazai wondered if he dyed it or if that was, indeed, it’s natural colour.

“All I saw was you lying on the floor,” The boy gaze him a weird look again, “You sure you’re alright?”

“So you didn’t see the flying paper? They got absorbed right into my skin,” Dazai pointed at his bandaged arms for emphasis.

“You’re joking right?” The ginger boy gave him an ever-increasing sceptical look, before his eyes snaped forward to the shrine, “Hey, did you open the doors?”

Dazai had already forgotten about that, and responded with an air of arrogance, “No, I didn’t. I just told you I was getting attacked by paper”

The boy now seemed to be growing impatient. “Look, whatever story you’re trying to sell me isn’t working, so if you could just get lost it would be appreciated.”

Dazai crossed his arm and tutted, “Well, aren’t you rude.”

The boy snarled. “Excuse me? I live here, now get lost!”

Dazai eyed his outfit, “You live here?” He was expecting some kind of shrine get up, not lingering delinquent.

“Yes, now leave before I have you kicked out.” Dazai sensed a fight brewing.

“Chuuya!” A woman’s voice echoed from somewhere off to the side, and a tall lady wearing a white robe and red skirt, came walking towards them. She must be a shrine maiden. Where had she been five minutes ago when Dazai was getting attacked?

“Chuuya stop threatening our guests.”  She had made her way around to the boy, (Chuuya)’s side and was already leaning and fussing over him with an air of discipline.

“Get off me.” Chuuya huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and leaning away. The maiden grabbed his ear instead and he yelped.

And then she had turned to Dazai and was bowing, her strawberry blonde hair falling foward. “I’m very sorry your visit was disturbed. My name is Koyo Ozaki, Chuuya-san didn’t mean any harm, and I apologise on his behalf.”

Dazai didn’t know what to do with her over politeness and so bowed back with a small smile. “It’s fine, honestly, I was just about to leave.”

Koyo seemed happy with his response and watched him skirt around her and the frowning red head, past the lion statues and down the steps with a polite smile that was probably reserved for customers of the Shrine. Once Dazai was out of sight and ear shot he made a run for it down the hill and back to the main road he’d started on. The sun had officially set now, and it was getting darker. The lights from the village looked like lanterns, and the occasional car headlight could be seen swerving along the small roads like a maze. He followed the road easily until the house burst up from the trees like a landmark. The lights were on inside and Dazai slipped through the still open front door.

Inside was a bustle of colour and people. Before he could say anything Ranpo emerged from what he presumed to be the kitchen with a bowl of food.

“You’re late.” He said, eyes lazily glanced over Dazai before pushing past him and further into the main room. Dazai walked forwards, making out the warmly lit lamps and table that was steaming with food. At the head was Fukuzawa, adorned in a green yukata and was turned to face a girl who sat on his left.

Ah, so this was the other child. She was talking animatedly, her black bob swishing with her movements. Whatever she was saying, she seemed to be enjoying explaining it.

Ranpo had already placed the bowl in the centre of the table, and it drew Fukuzawa out of his conversation and aware of Dazai’s presence.

“Dazai, nice of you to join us for dinner.”

Dazai nodded and moved to the last empty matt opposite the head of the table. He made a point to observe the girl, but pretended he was more interested in picking himself a meal.

“My name is Akiko Yosano.” She smiled at him, waiting for a response.

“Dazai Osamu.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Yosano, pass the onigiri will you?” Ranpo spoke over a mouth full, and the girl did so, before turning back to her plate.

Conversation sailed around the table, Dazai contributing one of two words. He felt a lot like prying eyes and though he was uncomfortable, he decided that easiest away around it was to keep eating and smiling whenever it suited. He was good at smiling. And pretending.

“So Dazai, where did you go on your wander?” Fuzukawa questioned, and all heads turned towards him.

Dazai put down his chopsticks. “I found a Shinto shrine at the top of the hill.”

“Oh, did you meet anybody there?”

“No. Though I wasn’t there for too long. What God is the shrine dedicated to?”

Ranpo met his eye, as if not believing a word that came out his mouth, but Dazai ignored him and only smiled back.

“Ryūjin. The dragon God of water kami.” Yosano responded. Her butterfly hairpin glinted off a nearby light.

Fukuzawa nodded, “The Shrine is run by Priest Verlaine after the last one p-”

“Chuuya lives up there.” Ranpo interrupted and Yosano nodded at his comment.

“He got all mouthy with Sensei Kajii today in Chemistry. He’s always getting sent to the headmaster. It’s only the first week back, if he’s not careful he’ll get suspended.”

With that the conversation, gratefully, tilted away from Dazai and into the gossip of High School.

School. Dazai shifted his gave to Fukuzawa, but the man seemed unbothered by the topic of conversation. He wondered how long he could go with trying to escape it and realised it would be easier to bring it up himself.

“I was home schooled at my last foster home; I can’t remember the last time I was at a school.”

Yosano looked at him. “You are going to our school, right?”

Dazai shrugged, looking at Fukuzawa for confirmation.

Fukuzawa, finally, joined in. “Yes, it only seems right. You won’t have missed much as the term only started last week. If it’s ok with you I thought you could start this Monday?”

Dazai’s weekend suddenly seemed like borrowed time. He had two days before starting the process of the education institution. Foggy memories of middle school from back in Tokyo rose to the surface. Bloody bandages, broken pencils, eating lunch alone, full marks, polished floors. Whatever made Fukuzawa happy though.

And so Dazai agreed to attend school.

And after clearing away his plate and thanking Fukuzawa for the meal, Dazai slipped away out the room and to empty his bowl in the kitchen, making sure to leave the door open a crack.

“He seems ok.” Yosono’s voice drifted through the gap.

“Treat Dazai like your family,” Fuzukawa’s deep voice warned, “And he will treat you like you are his.”

There was another murmur and then, “I don’t trust him.” It was Ranpo, “He won’t last long here. You can see it in his eyes, all he wants is to leave.”

“Give him time. He’s from the city, he’s not use to the way of life out here.”

And with that their conversation seemed done. Dazai was slightly surprised by Ranpo’s forwardness, but there was a lot about Ranpo that intrigued him. He seemed like a more childish, honest version of himself. Well didn’t that just add to the fun.

Dazai returned to his bedroom and stared out the window. The moon was lighting up the room and his bandages looked pale and stark in contrast. His mind was instantly transported to the papers sinking into his skin at the shrine and the feeling made him shiver. He wouldn’t be surprised if that boy had cursed him.

 Ryujin. The dragon king. The sea God. Dazai had never believed in Gods before, but maybe it was time he had started to.

Chapter Text

The weekend couldn't have gone any faster.

Dazai had been up late at night playing games on his phone and was woken up on Monday morning to a series of abrupt knocks to his bedroom door, which was annoyingly bringing him out of an interesting dream and back into the reality of his situation. The curtains were shut, and it was too dark to visualise any large objects. Dazai groaned under the heap of his duvet and curled into a ball. He envisioned himself as a hedgehog with spikes drawn, a defensive shield against the outside. There was a dull headache rocking back and forth between his eyeballs, and it was extremely irritating.

"Dazai, school." A persistent girl's voice echoed after the nock and Dazai listened to her footfall's retreat away from the door and down the corridor. Yosano. He completely forgot about his promise; he was still half asleep. He wished he'd never agreed to attend public school, and the urge to sleep in and forget was strong, strong enough to let himself sink further into the cotton of his mattress. His eye lids grew heavy, and his body felt warm and dreamy. Dazai must have fell back asleep because the next thing he knew harsh sunlight was lighting up his room like a signal lamp and a tall shadow was stood in front of his window with hands on their hips.

The shadow turned out to be a disappointed Fukuzawa.

"I'll buy you an alarm clock for tomorrow Dazai. Please try to get up and get ready or otherwise you'll be late."

Dazai sat up and groggily wiped the sleep from his eyes, rolling out from under the covers and stretching upwards like a cat. Fukuzawa watched him leave the room and heard the bathroom door shut close further down the hallway.

It took Dazai a total of 30 minutes to get washed and dressed. He found his new school uniform already neatly folded on his desk, a plain black gakuran and white shirt (which he assumed had been put there while he was in the shower) and a brand-new school bag was resting on top. Fukuzawa has really outdone himself, Dazai thought bitterly. He could have bought all this himself. He wasn't to use to this whole family dynamic just yet.

Of course Dazai kept his standard bandaged look. Luckly no one had asked him about it yet, but he knew they must be curious. It was only natural.

"Morning Dazai." Yosano was eating some toast at the dinner table, wearing her school uniform too with its black pleated skirt, feet crossed.

"Morning." Dazai hummed, reaching for some food himself. Ranpo was sat in the same spot he had last night, though he seemed to have triple the amount of food around him and was munching away happily like a hamster.

"So Dazai, you excited for school?" Yosano was already leaning towards him, her mouth still full.

"Super excited!" He hopped he didn't sound sarcastic, "The girls in my class won't be able to resist me, not only am I devishly handsome, but my grades also make me perfect boyfriend material." He flashed a grin at her, and she immediately giggled.

"Oh really, does that mean you have a girlfriend waiting for you back in the big city?"

Dazai kept his smile in place. "No, I was a heartbreaker. I rejected them all."

While the two bantered, Ranpo kept quiet, eating away, and keeping a watchful eye on Dazai. And then Yosano was standing up, pulling her jumper back from her wrist to check the time on her watch.

"Time to go, or we'll be late."

Dazai went back up to grab his very prestigious looking, brand new bag and threw in some school looking junk from his desk before making his way back down the corridor and slipped on his shoes.

Yosano and Ranpo were already opening the gate, and he followed them down the hill towards the train station as they chatted up ahead. Dazai wasn't sure what he was going to make of this place, but his school uniform was already suffocating him. At least Fukuzawa hadn't tried to buy him any new shoes, though he wouldn't be surprised if the man already knew his shoe size.

After walking past rice fields and livestock they made it to the main village, and Dazai continued following at a small distance, hands in pockets and bag swaying on his shoulder. The houses looked old and rural, and everyone he saw seemed to know each other. Yosano was already waving at a boy who had been on the other side of the road before he crossed to join them, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Kunikida, have you done the homework for Mr Natsume yet? I've completely forgot, can I please copy yours?"

The boy in question, Kunikida, winced at her pleading tone, "Yosano, you can't keep copying my homework. One day we're both going to get in trouble." Well he seemed like the stickler for rules type. What a tease.

"Who's this, he a friend of yours?" Ah, so he had been noticed.

"Oh, he's Fukuzawa's new kid, we're like stray dogs at this point." Yosano blabbed.

"I'm Osamu Dazai." He shot the boy a grin, and Kunizida gave him a once over.

"Doppo Kunikida, nice to meet you."

"So Kunizida," Dazai wormed his way into their little group, "Do you often let Yosano copy your homework?"

"What, no! I just-"

And with that the four made it to the school gates, mainly with Dazai teasing Kunizida about his inability to say no to others while Yosano tried to keep the peace. Ranpo just sucked on a lolly pop. To an outsider they looked like they'd all been friends for a long time.

As Dazai had assumed yesterday evening, the large white building by the sea was indeed the high school. It was also joint with the Junior High, but Dazai wasn't surprised with how small the village was. In fact, he was more surprised there was a high school out here in the first place. Apparently the elementary was in the town centre. He bet that growing up here, everyone must be sick of each other.

"Oh, I completely forgot, we have our health check-ups today." Yosano exclaimed, leading the group towards the front door.

Each of them leaned towards their lockers, slipping off their shoes and into their school slippers. Dazai stood there awkwardly, looking down at his own feet.

"Excuse me, are you Dazai Osamu?” A hand tapped him on the shoulder. Dazai spun around to be faced with a slightly older looking boy with short dark hair and framed glasses who was staring with a bored, official look on his face.

Dazai nodded and smiled, "That's me."

"I'm Ango Sakaguchi, head boy and a 3rd year student. The headmaster instructed me to give you your locker key. Also, your homeroom class is 2A." As he talked, he pulled out a small key from his bag and handed it to Dazai, who took it in response.

"Thank you." Dazai was feeling polite enough to bow.

Ango stared down at his watch and broke eye contact, "I must be on my way, goodbye." And he walked off like the interaction had never happened.

"Already making first impressions." Ranpo teased, peering over his shoulder as Dazai attempted to locate his locker number 22. Inside he found some slippers already waiting for him. How nice of them.

"You know that guy?" Dazai asked as he changed his shoes. His current ones were looking quite beat up, maybe he should get some new ones.

"Everyone knows Ango. He's the school's top student and head boy."

"True," Yosano leaned onto Ranpo, joining into the conversation, "What homeroom you in Dazai?"

"2A." Dazai was starting to notice other students looking at him. It really was a small place here. He bet he was the most unfamiliar face they'd seen in years.

Yosano blinked in surprise before a grin spread across her face. "Same as all of us, what a coincidence."

Ranpo hummed happily in response, though it seemed fake.

"Where'd Kunikida go?"

"Oh, he likes to get to homeroom nice and early. He can't mess up his schedule or something like that." The three had already started to make their way up the stairs. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, and Dazai got a view of the sports yard and the sea that glistened behind it.

They turned onto their corridor, the smell of the polished floor bringing back memories of middle school when a shriek ahead of him caught his attention.

"You!"

It was the boy from the shrine. Chuuya. And he was pointing his finger accursedly at Dazai with an infuriated expression on his face.

"You!" Dazai pointed back, equally surprised, though not really because Yosano and Ranpo had revealed to him last night Chuuya did indeed go to school here. Also, it didn't have to be said again, this was a small place.

However, having the same homeroom had been unlikely. They were both stood outside 2A's door, and students had already started to look at both of them. Chuuya's appearance seemed different in his school uniform, cleaner and sleeker, but it did nothing to hide his height, which Dazai was going to greatly enjoy teasing him about.

"Chuuya, who is this?" A girl with straight pink hair was peeking around the ginger's shoulder. Next to her was a boy with spiky, pale grey bangs and equally grey eyes. He seemed dull. They both did.

"You know the guy from last night I was complaining about, it's him!" Chuuya shuffled closer, still holding his finger up in blame, "You ever gunna apologies for what you did, huh?"

The boy had gotten himself so worked up with pure hatred Dazai was almost impressed by the lack of self-control. Chuuya matched his red hair perfectly. How he appeared on the inside was also projected on the outside. It was rare to find people like that now a days.

Shrugging, Dazai responded, "I don't see what I need to apologise about, seeing that I didn't even do anything." And then, feeling childish, he stuck out his tongue.

"Why you-"

The bell rang overhead, cutting Chuuya off. What a shame.

"We'll see you at break Chuuya." The girl waved as she and the other dull one make their way off to a different homeroom. Chuuya and Dazai glared at each other as they made their way over the threshold and into the class. Dazai made a point to accidentally bump his shoulder.

Behind, Yosano and Ranpo had been watching in silent observation, and they both seemed to sense trouble brewing.

Dazai watched Chuuya make his way to the back of the class by the window, though his aura of grumpiness kept others at bay. Dazai lingered by Ranpo's chair, waiting for a teacher to make an appearance before he sat down anywhere.

"So what happened at the Shrine last night?" Ranpo tilted his chin over to Dazai. His gaze was scrutinising.

"Nothing."

"Well Chuuya seemed pretty angry about it. Not like it takes much though."

Dazai was about to respond with a witty comeback when a man with a log brown suit, moustache and a cane strolled into the room and in front of the chalkboard.

"Students, today you have a new classmate."

Ranpo nudged Dazai to the front of the class where he stood and bowed.

"Good, morning, my name's Osamu Dazai." He paused and looked up to the teacher with his light chestnut hair and thin moustache.

"Anything else you'd like to say about yourself Dazai?" He asked, raising an eyebrow,

"I'm from Yokohama, I'm 15 years old and my favourite food is crab."

Some of the girls at the back started whispering but were quickly hushed.

"Thank you Dazai, you can sit in the spare seat in the back there."

To his absolute dread, blue eyes snapped up to his. Well, this was going to cure his boredom. Sitting right next to Chuuya Nakahara, the Chibi with a temper problem.

To his credit, Chuuya did try to ignore Dazai, but the brunette wasn't exactly making it easy. While Sensei Natsume got on with setting up first lesson after homeroom, which turned out to be Japanese Literature, Dazai had decided to make paper aeroplanes, ensuring to rip out the paper from his notebook slowly and loudly, glancing over to the window seat each time and then folding each origami as perfectly as he could.

While Natsume had his back turned in writing the title of today's topic with chalk, Dazai launched one of his aeroplanes at Kunukida who was sitting diagonally across the classroom. It hit him right on his head. To Dazai's absolute delight, Chuuya snickered, which put the blame instantly onto him while Dazai looked around the class room innocently. Kunikida was clutching the paper plane and glaring at Chuuya with about as much warning as one could muster with only the eyes.

Ten minutes subsided and Dazai threw another one. This time he had written a little message inside.

Dear Kunikida,

If you keep scowling like that when the wind changes, your face will be stuck in that position for ever, and then you'll never find a girlfriend.

Yours, Chuuya

It was safe to say that message was delivered.

The bell finally rang, and the teachers changed over, and a middle-aged man with grey, swept-back hair, a moustache (what was with the moustaches, announced himself as Hirotsu.

"Class is going to finish ten minutes early today due to the health checkups. If you could all line up at the door to leave at 9:50 and head to the Nurse's office quietly it would be appreciated."

Dazai wasn't sure what to make of these health check-ups. He vaguely remembered having them in middle school, but they weren't that big of a deal. Being in the foster care, he knew that whatever they found today would probably already been on his health record. The time came and went and soon enough Hirotsu was wrapping up the history of the rise of Buddhism when everyone was standing up out of their chairs in a muffled chatter towards the door. Dazai squeezed in with Yosano and Ranpo who were already giggling about something prior, but in his peripheral, Dazai watched Chuuya drag his feet to the back of the line and wait by himself, posture slumped and hands in pockets. It seemed that the red head didn't have many friends of his own in his home room.

As they left, following Hirotsu down the corridor, Dazai made memorise each classroom and the layout of the school building. The place seemed old, but well looked after. Outside, the trees were waving in a spring breeze, illuminating patterns on the floor through the glass.

The nurse's office was on the ground floor, and one they got there, everyone had to wait in a line outside the door and they would be called in one by one alphabetically.

The nurse, it seemed, was a short woman with blonde hair tied in a messy bun called Higuchi, and she talked animatedly to every student as though a friend.

Ranpo slouched against the wall and turned to Yosano, waiting, "All she'll tell me to do is cut back on my sugar intake, like she does, every year."

Dazai had noticed that Ranpo did indeed have a sweet tooth, but the boy looked healthy, so he assumed it was ok.

They'd already been waiting for eleven minutes when the door opened again,

"Osamu Dazai?" Higuchi called down the line.

Dazai stood up off the wall and made his way over without a goodbye. He wanted this to be quick.

Inside the room was a standard set up with two beds, each separated by a curtain. Higuchi gestured for him to sit on one as she brought of a small machine and slipped something onto his arm, clipping a plastic peg onto his finger.

"You'll feel it tighten just for a few seconds." She said, writing down a reading as the bag around Dazai's arm did instead tighten as it took his blood pressure.

The rest of the checkup went normally as Higuchi measured his height and weight, took a small blood test in which she asked him, "You're not scared of needles are you?" and an overall lifestyle and family history questions. After Dazai had thought he was finally free to go.

"And may I ask what the bandages are for? It doesn't say anywhere on your record you have a skin disease, or eczema? Have you injured yourself recently?" Higuchi tilted her head slightly, questioning.

Dazai shook his head slightly and decided that showing her was easier. His rolled up the bandages on his right arm, slowly, trying not to tangle them so it would be easy to redo again. When Higuchi say the scars, her lips parted slightly in surprise, which she quickly moulded into an expression of indifference and nodded once in understanding, scribbling something onto her clipboard.

"Thank you for your time Dazai, you can join back into the line now."

Sighing, Dazai rolled his sleeve back down and head out into the corridor to meet his friends. Roommates. Buddies. Whatever you wanted to call them. Yosano asked him how it went, and he nodded, pretending to look bored as he watched another student head in. Even though she didn't say anything, Dazai knew Yosano was looking at his bandages and wanted to ask. People were always asking.

Half an hour passed by and soon nearly everyone had been seen to. Everyone except Chuuya Nakahara. Dazai was almost getting suspicious as the Ns in the alphabet had passed long ago, when Higuchi stepped back out into the corridor, calling his name. But instead of letting him into the room she leaned forward and spoke to him in a hushed tense conversation. Dazai went quiet, straining his ears to pick any of it up.

He heard the words, "I know" and "illness" as well as "later", and before Dazai realised, Higuchi had let Chuuya go, and he was walking back passed them to the end of the line. Ranpo's eyes met Dazai's. So he must have heard something as well. This boy was intriguing Dazai more and more as the day went on.

Finally, the bell rang and Yosano clapped her hands in mild excitement, "Lunchtime!"

Dazai hadn't brought anything for lunch, but he soon found he didn't need to because Yosano had brought his for him.

"Did you make these?" Dazai asked as she placed his bento box in front of his desk.

"No. Fukuzawa did. I just remembered to bring yours." She hit him lightly on the head with her chopsticks. Both Ranpo and Yosano were sat two seats in front of Dazai near to Kunikida, so he didn't feel too far away from conversation. Not that he had much to offer. He was to busy eyeing the broody ginger who was sat on his left and looking out the window in a fit of misery. Dazai didn't contribute anything interesting to the subject at hand, which happened to be if you could only eat one food for the rest of your life what would it be. Dazai already knew his answer would be crab.

He ate his bento box slowly, watching the students interact around the room and got a gage on the friendship groups and popularity hierarchy without even getting involved himself. There was Yosano's group, which currently consisted of Ranpo and Kunikida. Then there was the two who everyone seemed to want to talk to, Gin Akutagawa and Michizō Tachihara. And lower down in the 'food chain' was a group of boys who seemed led by a Fyodor Dostoevsky, who did seem to be side eying Dazai from his corner of the room.

"Ranpo!" And then there was Edgar Allan Poe, who was constantly trying to get Ranpo's attention. Dazai though his 'crush' was a little overbearing and obvious but each to their own.

However, Chuuya, it seemed, was eating lunch alone. That was until pink hair girl and dull boy made an appearance and dragged him out of the room. How annoying. They came back to drop him off just before the bell for 4th lesson rang. And it was the most boring lesson of Dazai's life. Sensei Mitchell, was not, unfortunately, Dazai's flavour of tea, but art had never been Dazai's flavour of anything and so there was no hope to even begin with. School ended with an either duller maths class, in which Dazai was already stretching and ready to dash out the front door when he remembered there was something he had wanted to research. Yosano was on clean up duty anyway, so he explained that if she could wait for him before they walked home together, he'd meet her at the lockers.

"I just need to use the computer in the library to search something, and then we can head home together."

"That's fine, see you in a bit," Yosano smiled at him before walking over to Gin's table.

Dazai grabbed his bag, ignored Chuuya who was also collecting his items, and rushed down to the library where he'd noticed sat four large computers. The school library was small, but he was grateful to their access to the internet. Ever since last night, Dazai had some questions, and he knew that getting answers would include some thorough research.

He started off with searching up the God Ryujin, mumbling the words as his eyes flit across the screen, "Ryūjin shinkō 'dragon god faith' is a form of Shinto religious belief that worships dragons as water kami. This relates to agricultural rituals, rain prayers, and a good sea harvest. The God has shrines across Japan, especially in rural areas near the sea where fishing and agriculture is important for local communities."

Images of a green scaled serpent scaling the waves flashed under every website until Dazai wasn't sure if he was looking at a snake or a dragon. It made sense for a seaside village's main shrine to be a water God. Especially if the main source of income came from the sea, the fishermen and surrounding rice fields.

"In many versions of Japanese Mythology Ryūjin had the ability to transform into a human shape. Many believed the god had knowledge of medicine and many considered him as the bringer of rain and thunder."

And when Dazai felt like he had enough information on the God, he moved onto the paper's that had attacked him. He learnt about shikigami that appear as neatly folded paper manikins that can morph into various shapes and creatures such as birds. He learnt about ofuda that are paper talisman found in Shinto shrines, embedded with the power of deities. And then he learned about omamori, amulets that are dedicated to Shinto kami and provide protection and good luck. Dazai though that each picture looked similar to the ones he'd seen, and he couldn't decide if he'd truly been attacked by a God or a charm.

"Looks like your behind in doing your RE homework," A voice chuckled lightly on his right. Dazai wasn't aware that someone had sat down in the chair next to him; it caught him of guard.

Dazai decided they must be tall standing up if he was already taller than him sat down. His posture made Dazai self-conscious of his own, and he had short, parted hair with a reddish tinge.

He was also using the school computer and there was an air of calm and collectiveness about him, but also a hint of mystery. His voice, when he spoke, was kind. That was the strangest thing about him, Dazai decided. He seemed genuinely nice. There might have been ulterior motives to him, but he came in peace. Dazai had never felt safer and more confused about his feelings. He had a yearning to befriend him.

"I'm Osamu Dazai, I'm new." He turned to make eye contact and found that the boy's eyes were brown.

"Sakunosuke Oda." There was a twinkle in his eye when he spoke.

"Sakunosuke Oda." Dazai rolled the vowels over his tongue, "Oda, Sakunosuke. I've got it! I'm going to call you Odasaku from now on.

Odasaku raised an eyebrow in either confusion of surprise, and chuckled lightly, "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"I feel that you have the potential to be a true friend Odasaku." Dazai had completely forgotten about his research now, that much was evident. He had turned fully to face his new friend, his latest search bar mid-sentence.

Oda hummed like he believed him. "So Dazai, you said you were new, where are you from?"

"Yokohama." Dazai didn't like telling people his true origin. He preferred the grand port city, to him it was his true home.

"I've never been but I bet it's a busy place, though I assume not as busy as Tokyo. Have you ever been to Tokyo?"

Dazai shook his head.

"How are you enjoying the rural West then? Is it everything you thought it'd be?" Oda seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say next.

"It's very… small. Everyone knows each other, and I feel like you could get bored here after so many years."

Oda chuckled, "You're right about it being small but I don't think I would call it boring. I plan to take over my parent's curry shop here after school, I don't think I could ever leave."

They shifted into a comfortable silence after that, and then Dazai glanced at the time.

"I'd better find my friend; we're walking home together." Dazai quickly shut the computer off and stood up, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Me too, I was waiting for Ango to finish up on cleaning duty."

Ango. Dazai knew that name, he was the head boy and 3rd year who gave him his locker key this morning. Dazai peeked up at Oda, "Are you a 3rd year too?"

Odasaku rubbed at the back of his neck and smiled, "I am, how'd you figure?"

They both started to walk out of the library together and towards the lockers, "Your friend Ango, I met him-"

They were about to walk around the corner that led to the nurses office when Dazai froze. He had a very concentrated look on his face and Oda thought best to not interrupt the moment. Up ahead voices were murmuring, and Oda poked his head around to get a glimpse of fiery red hair.

"I didn't see the point in doing a health checkup when I already had everything filled in on you." It was Higuchi.

"That's ok, I wasn't expecting you too anyway." The voice was definitely Chuuya's, Dazai was sure. He knew he'd recognised him talking before he'd even seen him.

"And how are you feeling this week, you know you can always skip class and come visit me anytime-"

"I know Higuchi. Thank you." He seemed done with the conversation, itching to move on.

"No problem Nakahara. You take care!"

Dazai and Oda waited until they heard the office door close and Chuuya's footsteps fade down the corridor before they moved on. The taller of the two looked down at the now unfrozen Dazai.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?"

Oda paused, slightly taken aback in Dazai's open question. "You're as bad as Ango," He sighed, walking forward, "Chuuya's in your year anyway."

"And? You know something about him surely."

"I just know he's ill, that's all. No one knows with what, or what's truly wrong, but he misses a lot of school because of it."

Dazai appeared deep thought, "Ill huh? He seems physically fine…"

Oda put up his hands in mock surrender, "That's just what I heard. Why the sudden interest, you friends?"

"We're in the same homeroom. Also I may have made a small spectacle on my first day here at his Shrine but that's all." Dazai was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and the smile didn't drop even as they made it to collect their shoes. Outside it was raining again, and Oda's shoulders slumped at the onset of the downpour.

As they took off their slippers, a round of voices echoed along the corridor and Yosano, Gin and Ango, along with a small group of others appeared.

"Oh bugger, it's raining again." Yosano moaned, unlocking her locker, and bending to pull on her shoes. Dazai watched her while Oda peered over to talk to Ango.

"Good thing I brought an umbrella, isn't it?" She smiled up at Dazai who pouted in indifference.

"How do you know Yosano then?" Oda questioned, now waiting for Ango before he could leave.

"We're living together," Dazai explained, about to say more when the head boy himself butted in.

"Fukuzawa runs a children's home, doesn't he?" All eyes seemed to be on Dazai now, who only nodded under all the attention.

"So you're an orphan?" Now Oda was really interested.

"Hey, it's not nice to ask if someone's an orphan!" Dazai complained, and then in a quieter voice, "But yes, I may be."

Ango was already dragging Oda away. "Bye Dazai, it was nice talking to you!"

Dazai waved back in response as Yosano opened up her umbrella. "You make friends quick, don't you?" She smiled as they set off, the water droplets bouncing and running off the plastic covering.

"Must be my charismatic personality." Dazai pulled his bag close to his body to prevent it getting wet as they left school grounds. Small streams were already running down the side of roads and the trees had their leaves bowed under the on pour.

"Oh, I meant to ask about how you managed to piss Chuuya off so much." Yosano had to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the rain.

"I didn't do anything, but when I was at his shrine he seemed convinced that I'd opened the main hall's doors without permission."

"Did you?"

"No. It must have been the wind." Yosano looked like she didn't believe him, which didn't surprise him. Dazai felt like if he told her about being attacked by flying paper, she would also probably not believe that too.

Walking up the hill was a slight battle, but Yosano kept her grip on that umbrella like it was an option of life or death. They didn't talk much after that, they were too bothered trying to not get blown away in the sudden spring storm and fall into a puddle. Once they got higher up the road, the forest gave them some shelter, but Dazai still felt like a drenched rat by the time he was on the doorstep. He emptied his shoes of rainwater before stepping inside with soggy socks.

Ranpo emerged from the kitchen with another lolly pop. Dazai was going to have to find his stash. "Well you two look like you had fun."

Yosano merely flicked her wet hair and made her way to the bathroom. Dazai heard the hairdryer being turned on only a few minutes later and wondered if maybe he could use it too.

Dazai wasn't surprised that Fukuzawa had actually gone out and bought him an alarm clock during the day, in fact he'd been expecting it. He didn't particularly wish to set one for tomorrow morning, but he knew he would have to wake up either way.

It rained all through the night and Dazai lay in his bed in the dark listening to it patter on the roof and tap against the window. His mind was flitting between images of paper seals, the dragon God, Oda smiling at him, and Chuuya's hushed voice in the empty corridor. Dazai was going to figure out what ever mysterious illness the red head had, even if he had to befriend him to do so.

Chapter Text

Dazai started his second day in school in much the same fashion as his first, this time it wasn’t Yosano waking him up but the persistent beep of an alarm clock that was dragging him by his toes out of his dream. It had finally stopped raining, but the ground was saturated, and the old roads were full of potholes that had filled up like mini lakes overnight. Dazai almost ended up with wet socks again and grimaced when he saw the soggy ends of his toes when changing shoes.

He decided to make his first goal of the day to annoy Chuuya, and he had already started to attempt throwing bits of rolled up paper at him, but the boy seemed distracted enough looking out the window and doing a good job of ignoring him. All Dazai had got was a sneer when they walked into the homeroom at eight, and since then, nothing. The morning seemed to go on forever, and Dazai was starting to seriously hate their economics teacher, Mr Fitzgerald. He seemed like the type who would have voted for Donald Trump in the American election, balded at 20 and was now wearing blonde wigs. He was also way too energetic for first lesson.

Dazai nodded off between 10:25 and 11:40 and woke up to his history teacher hitting him on the head with a textbook, much to the classes delight. He even got a snigger out of Chuuya. Kunikida seemed less than impressed and kept asking how much sleep Dazai had got last night during lunch.

Just as expected, Dazai watched the pink haired girl and the dull grey one drag Chuuya out of the classroom and whisk him away. Dazai shovelled his rice in his moth in response, but Ranpo had been watching him.

“Who even are those two anyway?” He spoke with his mouth full.

Yosano looked up confused but Ranpo knew what he was talking about.

“Yuan and Shirase, the ‘Sheep’. They’re Chuuya’s best friends.” Ranpo shrugged, unwrapping his pastry, “Shirase’s dad runs a mechanics shop and Yuan’s his stepsister.”

Dazai swallowed and raised a brow, “The ‘Sheep’. What, is that a gang name?”

Yosano smirked at his answer, “They might as well be a gang by the way Shirase acts about it. They trek around town thinking they’re the top dogs and bully the lower years. Shirase smokes too, but I’ve never seen the others do it.”

“So Chuuya’s little buddies seemed to think they’re tuff shit, huh.”

“Don’t swear Dazai!” Kunikida pointed his chop sticks at him in accusation, and it made Dazai burst out laughing.

“What, you never heard the word ‘shit’ before?”

“Dazai!”

“You wanna hear some other bad words. I know quite a fewww…”

Kunikida threw his hands over his ears, and his chopsticks clattered on his desk. Dazai was just teasing but bantering like this felt fun. It hadn’t been like this in middle school at all. Dazai finally felt, comfortable, around these people. Which was rare and also surprising, because it was literally his second day at school, and he already seemed to have a friendship group. He wondered how quickly they’d get bored with him.

The bell rang, and Dazai shuffled back to his seat when everyone started moving to get their bags, much to Dazai’s confusion.  

“We have PE, idiot.” A voice grumbled from his side, and Dazai immediately recognised it as Chuuya’s.

“Chuuya, you returned from your gang!”

“My gang?” He furrowed his brows.

“Do you have any spear PE kit, I’ve forgotten mine.” Dazai asked, completely ignoring the previous question.

“No, and why would I give it to you anyway? You’re such a weirdo.”

Dazai pouted like he was personally wounded, but responded sweetly, “Well you’re no ray of sunshine either.”

The red heads eyes flashed, and then he was grabbing his bag and swiftly exiting the room. Dazai watched him leave with nothing to wear but his school uniform.

They ended up playing volleyball in the sports hall. Ranpo, it turned out, sucked at physical activities. Yosano on the other hand, was extremely competitive, and so it appeared was Chuuya.

“Why am I always stuck with you?” The ginger grumbled when Dazai missed the ball again.

“Must be fate.” Dazai grinned, dusting himself off the floor and letting another student run after it instead.

Dazai watched Chuuya defend, and serve, and hit each ball that he ran after. Even with a smaller figure he seemed physically athletic, showing no signs of an injury, or fatigue or weakness. Whatever his illness was it sure wasn’t affecting his ability to get as many points for their team as possible. By the time Sensei Suehiro had blown the whistle for the end of class, Chuuya had a smile painted across his face at their victory and was breathing heavily, clapping hands with the rest of their teammates. Yosano seemed extremely upset to have lost, but Ranpo was chatting away unbothered, seemingly happy the lesson was over.

Dazai, luckily, hadn’t sweated in his uniform but got an earful from the teacher about making sure he had his kit for next time. Dazai bowed in apology before waiting for everyone to get changed.

Last lesson went quickly and Dazai was aching to leave, when his mind wandered to Oda. He wished they’d been the in same year, or the same homeroom. The fact that he was somewhere in this building, but they hadn’t seen each other once today was a bummer. He wondered if he would be in the library after school like he was yesterday.

When the final bell rang Dazai jumped up and remembered Yosano was on cleaning duty.

He walked over to her, “Yosano, do you want me to wait for you again?”

She turned over to him and smiled, “No it’s fine, just head home with Ranpo.”

“Really? You sure you won’t be lonely?”

She blinked in surprise, “No it’s fine, really.”

Dazai huffed but decided he’d check the library anyway. Surely Oda would be waiting for Ango again. Unfortunately for Dazai, he wasn’t. Dazai checked every crevice of the library, behind every computer screen and even started looking under tables until the librarian started to give him the evil eye. She looked away quickly when they made eye contact, but he decided it would be best to leave. He just hopped Ranpo hadn’t run off without him yet.

As he made his way back to the lockers, he heard Chuuya’s annoying voice again, paired with the other two members of the ‘Sheep’. Instead of interrupting them, he shimmied along the lockers and listened in.

“Want to come to ours? We can go over to the skate park and stuff.” It was the boy, Shirase.

Chuuya didn’t respond, and Dazai heard him shut his locker door loudly, metal slamming against metal.

“Chuuya?” That was the girl, Yuan.

“Guys, I can’t tonight. I’m busy.” His voice sounded deflated, like he knew he was letting them down.

Shirase responded bitterly, “You’re always ‘busy’. What, it was your headache last week and before that you were at the doctors and the week before that you were too tired. We haven’t hung out just us three in ages.”

“Please Chuuya,” Dazai imagined Yuan batting her eyelashes at him and making sad puppy dog eyes. How pathetic.

“Look I would if I could, but I just can’t at the minute, ok? Go have fun without me, I don’t mind.” Dazai heard footsteps retreat towards the main door.

“Chuuya are you really ill or are you just trying to ignore us?”

Dazai winced at the silence that enveloped the room after Shirase’s question.

No body said anything when Chuuya opened the front doors and walked out without a response. Dazai could feel the tension enveloping the room.

“Ugh, just forget him Yuan.” Dazai heard his voice grow in frustration. “He’s been avoiding us for weeks now. If he doesn’t get a grip of himself soon, he’s gunna regret it.”

“What if he really is ill-”

“Yuan, if he was, he would have told us what was wrong by now. Let’s go home.”

Dazai waited to a few minutes before revealing himself, making sure he’d heard them both leave. Ranpo, it appeared, had not waited for him. Dazai didn’t really mind though, he made his way back with hands in pockets, steps sluggish as he went over the previous conversation in his head. Barn swallows were sat in flocks on the power lines, chirping away and cleaning each other’s feathers, watching him walk with the tilt of their heads. Dazai wondered what it must feel like to have a family as large as that.

It appeared that Chuuya’s illness was a mystery even to his best friends, and that he has been hiding the truth and avoiding them for a long time. Who wouldn’t lie to a bunch of idiots anyway. Shirase was a child playing adult and Yuan was a naïve puppy following her big brother without a thought of her own. Sheep really was such a fitting name in the end. All they did was follow each other obediently, and it seemed Chuuya had broken their one very precious rule.

When he finally managed to pull off his shoes and make it back, the home phone in the main living area started to ring. Dazai ignored it, expecting someone such as Fukuzawa or Ranpo to pick it up but no one did. He was just about to make it upstairs when it rang again, a shrill call waiting to be answered. Sighing, he made his way (very slowly) over and peered to look at the caller ID that was illuminated at the side. At first, he blinked because he was sure he’d read it wrong but there was no doubt. Dazai backed away as the ringing fell silent. There was no way in any universe that Dazai was answering that phone call. Before anyone found him like this, he stumbled out of the room and made a dash for it down the corridor, shutting his bedroom door with a slight bang. Unbeknown to him, Ranpo had been listening in the kitchen, and had heard every deep breath and heavy footfall that Dazai had tried to cover up. The house was old, the wooden floorboards squeaked and Ranpo had been living here a long time, he knew which room and which path Dazai had taken. Ranpo could tell by the panicked scurry of his footsteps that who ever had called had managed to strike fear into Dazai Osamu.

Chapter Text

When Friday eventually rolled around, Dazai already have five pieces of homework to complete and found his sleep schedule thoroughly messed up. His day had been pretty boring, however it immediately peeked in interest when he caught Oda at the shoe lockers at the end of the day.

“Dazai. How are you?” The older of the two smiled, looking down slightly.

“Oda!” Dazai was the definition of a child in a teenager’s body. “What are doing after school?”

Ranpo had decided to ignore the conversation and was already making his way home. Yosano was still stuck on cleaning duty.

“I’m going home, I’ve got an evening shift at the shop tonight.”

Dazai’s eyes immediately lit up, “The curry shop, right! Do you mind if I come with you?”  Even though he phrased it as a question, it was very evident that Dazai was not taking no for an answer. Oda raised an eyebrow, aware of this, but shrugged anyway.

“I don’t know why you’d want to come but sure, I guess it doesn’t hurt.” Oda, Ango thought, was far too laid back.

Dazai was brimming with energy, or perhaps excitement as he followed Oda out the school and entrance and towards the centre of the little town towards where the market street was located. Dazai observed the many gift shops and cafes, most which were now closed, but the local food store and other restaurants were still open. Oda’s curry shop was on the right at a corner leading to the sea. It had a traditional feel to the building with slanted, slated rooves and red streetlamps hanging from above the door. Oda’s family name in pretty calligraphy was the main feature above the window, and when Oda opened the door, a small bell rang to notify their presence.

The shop was small, with wooden tables and stools to sit at the counter where you could observe the kitchen. Dazai slid into one of these stools, head twisting around to take in the whole shop and its few customers. Oda signalled that he was going to the back and returned five minutes later with an apron tied around a white shirt and walked over to the Chef, their voices muffled by the clanging of pots and bangs, bodies configured by steam. When Oda made his way back Dazai smiled at him and leaned across the wood separating them.

“When does your shift end?”

Oda glanced at him, before pulling out a notepad, “Nine pm. Do you want anything to eat?”

“Not really, I just wanted to watch.”

Oda eyed him with slight confusion, but then shrugged, continuing with his shift nonchalantly, tending to customers, writing checks and carrying plates of curry all while Dazai observed with a childish excitement as though he’d never been in a restaurant before. It was particularly busy around six pm, but most of the customers seemed to know Oda and were regulars. Dazai supposed the business thrived off the locals, especially as the dish prices were far lower than those that you’d expect in major cities.

Once the light from outside started to dim, Dazai decided it was time to head home, and waved Oda off while he was busy putting down food.

“Oh, before I go are you working here this weekend?”

Oda paused and looked back at him; the brunette had half his body out the door. “I’m working Saturday lunch time, but you don’t have to come and keep me company or anything.”

Dazai’s eyes sparkled, “Nonsense, I’d love to try some curry. I’ll see you then.” And with another wave he was gone.

Oda stood and stared at the empty space where he had been and wondered if Dazai had actually enjoyed being here. Oda had been too busy serving people to stand and chat with Dazai. Oh well, he shrugged, if he’s having fun.

When Dazai returned home, sighing with the trek and wishing, yet again, Fukuzawa lived anywhere but at the top of this hill, he was immediately interrogated by Yosano who had been wondering where he’d been.

“Sorry, I went to Oda’s shop after school. I should have left a message on the home phone.” Dazai had no intention of ever leaving a message on the home phone.

“The home phones kinda crappy,” She responded, pulling her mobile out of her pocket, “Why don’t we exchange numbers. I forgot to do this ages ago, but it should be easier this way.”

Dazai resisted the urge to sigh. He hated messaging people, not because he hated his phone but because he was terrible at picking it up in the first place. Now he had no excuse to update Yosano (aka the rest of the house) where he was when he disappeared.

“Sure, that’s a great idea.” Dazai was sure that if Ranpo was here, he’d know his smile was fake.

Now there was another contact in his phone alongside all the other people he’d always say he’d message but never did. They were names in here from middle school, god he should delete some soon.

Dazai spent most of his Saturday lounging in his room, attempting to complete his homework and wondering if he should go visit the shrine again. In the end he decided he shouldn’t go back there until he’d figured out what the papers were. Part of him was still convinced it was a dream. He didn’t feel any different, and there was no sign of any words printed on his skin. He’d had a thorough look in the bath and found nothing. At around lunch he scoured the kitchen for any crab and found none, which was highly disappointing considering they lived in a seaside town. He made a mental note to ask Fukuzawa to order some later.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, Dazai was away by eleven am and heading to Oda’s curry shop. Now, Dazai wasn’t much of a curry person himself, but he felt like he owed it to Oda to at least try some. Just like he promised, Oda was there, same apron tied around his waist and a customer smile on his face as he handed some middle-aged lady her curry.

“Odasaku!” Dazai grinned, walking over to the taller boy.

“Dazai,” Oda smiled back as Dazai sat himself in the same chair he had Friday night, “What can I get you?”

“Curry please!” Dazai responded without a single glance at the menu.

Oda frowned slightly, “Um, what kind of curry?”

“Any kind!”

Oda paused again, “Really, any kind? Dazai, you do know there’s like twenty-five different types of curry we make here?”

Dazai was still smiling, “Why of course I do Oda. Just bring me your favourite. I’ll eat whatever you give me, but only if you pick it.”

Oda started to wonder whether befriending Dazai had been a good idea when he went over to the Chef to whisper the order, hoping Dazai hadn’t heard him. Dazai sat, swinging his legs happily as he waited for his lunch, observing the restaurant yet again. It wasn’t so busy today, and Dazai was able to quip in some conversation with Oda, mainly laughing about some teacher they both disliked. They were talking when the door swung open and the bell chimed, Oda pausing mid word when three people walked in. Dazai knew who they were immediately, no one else in this town had the same fiery red hair. Chuuya clocked him at the same time, both of them glaring at each other across the shop. Somebody coughed.

Oda walked over with an uneasy smile. “Hey guys, you can sit anywhere you’d like.”

Shirase made to move in an unbothered corner away from the counter, but Chuuya was already pulling up a chair next to Dazai and throwing himself into.

“Why are you everywhere?” The ginger gritted through his teeth.

“Um, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed Chuuya, but I live here now, and this town is exceptionally small, though, unbelievably, not as small as you.”  

“Excuse me?”

Shirase had made his way over now, “Hey Chuuya, why don’t we sit as far away from this guy as we can, he’s obviously trouble.”

Dazai ignored the looks he was getting from Yuan but stuck his tongue out at her as soon as Chuuya wasn’t looking. Her face was starting to match her hair.

“Why can’t we sit here? It’s not like there’s anything stopping us. We have a right.” Chuuya had folded his arms across his chest with a standoffish huff, proving that he would not be budged, and Shirase had seemed to notice this.

“Fine, we can sit here. Yuan.” At his call the girl sat down next to Chuuya, and rather not so covertly stared at Dazai who’s curry had finally made an appearance.

The dish seemed simple enough, with white rice and the smell of spice and chicken, and Dazai grabbed a spoon and dug in.

Fire. That was the best way to describe how his throat felt. Dazai wasn’t terrible with hot foods, but this was way too much.

“Jesus- Oda, how spicy-” His tongue felt like sandpaper, “-is this?”

Oda, whose lips were quirked in a fond smirk, simply handed him a glass of water. “You asked for my favourite, this is my favourite.”

Chuuya, who’s attention had been drawn by Dazai’s loud spluttering, was watching the way the two interacted as though old friends. By Dazai’s grimace and Oda’s chuckle, they seemed to have known each other way longer than just a week. But why would a 3^rd year pick someone like Dazai and allow him to worm his way into his life? Dazai was a selfish, annoying rude, ug-

“Chuuya, what are you going to have?” Yuan’s chirpy voice dragged him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, um, I haven’t really looked yet.” Dazai choking in the background was still distracting him from reading the menu but he tried to ignore it.

“Why don’t you get the beef curry, I’m sure you’d like that one.” She was smiling at him with her stupid over-doing it smile that gave Chuuya second hand embarrassment.

Chuuya’s eyes glanced over the ingredients, “Ew, no, it has mushrooms, Yuan you know I hate mushrooms.”

“You never know until you try.” She was already signalling at Oda, “Hey, can we please have two keema curry and a beef curry-”

Dazai suddenly appeared over Chuuya’s shoulder, “Are you really letting her decide your order. You really are a sheep, aren’t you?”

Dazai’s sneer was enough for Chuuya to see red, “Shut the hell up you bandaged freak!”

Heads turned, and Oda winced, “Guys keep it down please. Chuuya are you sure that’s what you want?”

Chuuya looked away; Shirase was watching him, “Yeah sure, it’s fine, honestly.”

Interesting.

From what Dazai had been observing, he assumed that the lead role in the group automatically went to Chuuya, but it seemed Shirase was the real ‘King of the Sheep’.

“Coward,” Dazai whispered under his breath. Chuuya’s shoulders hunched with tension, but he stared down at the table and went quiet. Boring. Dazai could see the white clench of his knuckles. He wondered what would happen if he pushed Chuuya over the edge.

Dazai struggled to eat the rest of his curry, but tried his best efforts until Oda noticed his nose was running and told him to stop. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have picked such a hot one.”

“No it’s fine,” Dazai was chugging water like a dehydrated man stranded in a desert, “I wanted to try Odasaku’s favourite dish, and now I have.” His smile appeared forced.

Oda cleared his plate and came back while Dazai was pouting, watching the Sheep bicker and squabble next to him.

“I don’t know why you bother with them. They’re lost causes. Also picking a fight with Chuuya isn’t the smartest of decisions.”

“I never said it was smart, but it sure is interesting. Say, are the rumours about them bulling the lower years true?”

“I wouldn’t say they bully them, but I did here someone pissed Chuuya off last year and the kid ended up in the hospital. Chuuya got suspended for a week that’s for sure, but no one else except the Sheep know what truly happened.”

“And I thought you said you didn’t like to gossip Odasaku.” Dazai teased.

Oda threw his hands up, “I don’t, I promise. You’re the one who asked anyway.”

“Well have fun serving that lot,” Dazai dugged around in his pockets for his wallet and threw some cash onto the table, “I’ll see you around Oda.”

And with that he made his way out, Chuuya’s gaze piercing his back as he left.

Oda frowned at the notes on the table, “Dazai, hey! This isn’t enough to cover it-” But Dazai was already gone.

By the time Dazai’s weekend was finally spent up he realised he hadn’t finished his homework. Not that he couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t be bothered. He was sure Kunikida would let him copy his. That boy was such a pushover.

On Monday morning Dazai found a new pair of shoes waiting for him by the front door. Fukuzawa must have gotten them while he was out on a business trip on Sunday. Well the man sure was fast. Dazai felt himself smiling and immediately forced his face limp. He was supposed to be thinking of a way out of this place, not smiling about a temporary family and material objects.

Chuuya’s chair was empty in homeroom, and it stayed empty all day. This meant that Dazai’s daily fun of pestering was shortened by at least fifty percent, and he had to make do with bullying Kunikida instead (who had indeed let him copy his homework), which was not as nearly as much of an achievement as he had hoped. He was too easy, too gullible. Dazai preferred a challenge.

What was suspicious was the fact that Yuan and Shirase still came to find him at lunch, as though they had expected him to be there. Dazai made a point to be interested in his lunch.

“Where is he?”

“Maybe he’s at the toilet?”
“No, look, his names on the board. He’s absent.”

“Let’s go back them, come on,” Yuan was dragging Shirase back through the door.

“I just wish he’d tell us…”

And he wasn’t in the next day either. Again Yuan and Shirase came to look for him, and again they didn’t know where he was. On the third day they gave up. Dazai was fighting boredom off with an imaginary sword. If Chuuya was dead somewhere in a ditch Dazai decided this place was no longer worth sticking around for and started to consider a small plan of escaping based on the train timetable he’d memorised. On the fourth day Dazai decided to visit the shrine.

The walk was fairly similar to one he took on his first day here, except the there was a slight chill in the air and the sky was cloudy. There were no cats that ran in front of his path and there was no setting sun. Now he knew what he was looking for, the mossy covered stone lion stood out like a sore thumb and he couldn’t believe he’d missed it before. He took the same path up the hill panting slightly as he finally stood in front of the shrine gate, feeling a sense of foreboding.

The memory of paper on skin was too strong to be a dream.

Up ahead was the shape of a person bent in front of the larger stone lions lighting incense, their red skirt was like a smear off paint on a dull background. Dazai felt his feet walk forward without permission.

“Excuse me!” The woman, the same one from before, Koyo Ozaki, spun around and watched him bow forward with a flare of elegance.

“Hello again,” Her voice was cool, “Are you here to visit the shrine?” The incense was wafting behind her like smoke.

“No, actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

She turned away and stepped around the lion, “Walk with me.”

And so Dazai did.

“I never got your name before,” She spoke, not checking to see if he was following.

“It’s Osamu Dazai. I’m living with Fukuzawa, down the road.” She stopped by the cleaning ritual and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt to wash her hand and face. Dazai stood still, watching her from the corner of his eye.

She hummed in acknowledgment as the water dripped down her straight, pale nose. “You said you had something to ask me.”

“Yes, I was wondering why Chuuya hadn’t been in school all week. Is he ill?”

Dazai watched her back straighten with tension as she stepped away and towards the hall of worship, her footsteps light.

They’d now passed the place where Dazai had fallen over, suffocated by paper, wondering if he was dying.

“Chuuya is… away. He’ll be back tomorrow, though I don’t see how it is any of your concern.”

They’d reached the building now, but Dazai wasn’t here for a prayer. “I was just worried.” He painted a pure expression onto his face when she turned to face him.

“If that is all?” She looked as though she wished to leave and retreat further into the shrine. Dazai knew he couldn’t follow her.

“Actually,” Dazai swallowed, feeling his mask slip slightly, “When I last visited here, the shrine doors opened by themselves, and I was surrounded by paper seals. They imprinted onto my skin, and I was wondering if you know what they could have been?”

Koyo’s eyes narrowed as though trying to sense if he was being serious of not. “Are these words visible on your skin?”

“No,” Dazai shook his head, “They’ve left no trace.”

With a push of her hands the shrine maiden shoved open the main door and it creaked eerily, “Well your account of events does sound curious; however, I don’t think I can give you a clear answer. If I had to guess I would say the paper were ofadu, we have many around the shrine here, ours are embedded with the powers of the water kami. Maybe that is what you saw.”

And then she was gone, the doors closing behind her and Dazai was left in the retreating afternoon light with more questions than answers.