Work Text:
Everything has been a mess since Mori picked up this new pet project of his, and it all started when that boy was made involved.
Or maybe that is a bit too specific of a point in time. If Yosano is to be more generous about it, she would say that it all actually started at some nebulous point in the pretty big duration of some time in the past three years. Some time between when the nice man who she wasn’t allowed to talk to and his son who she was very clearly and concisely told not to ever talk to left and when the boy got involved. So maybe a better way of saying it would be that it all started at some point during that period of loneliness, and then the insanity reached its peak when the new addition was brought in.
There is a knock on her door.
And that is exactly how her peace and calm is interrupted every single time.
Dazai is hard to get a grasp on at best and actively makes doing such a thing a nuisance at worst. He speaks a whole universe’s worth of nonsense every time Yosano tries to find out anything even as simple as where he has come from and she finds it a miracle that Mori can even stand his attitudes—he certainly couldn’t stand Yosano’s.
She knows nothing about Dazai and yet Dazai seems to know everything about her, which makes him fit nicely in the role of her least favourite person who is younger than her. A list which is not at all hard for her to organise, seeing as she really only knows of two well enough for them to be put in the list.
And currently he is knocking on her door incessantly.
It’s fine, both him and Mori can wait a few minutes, if that’s the only amount of annoyance she feels she can safely cause. She continues to stand in front of her mirror and brush her hair, long enough now to be put into a ponytail without any strands immediately escaping.
She makes sure her shoes are clean and her shirt is spotless, she would never hear the end of the rumours if she were to step outside without looking her best. Her jacket goes from the back of her chair to over her shirt and her butterfly goes from the surface of her dresser to the pocket of the jacket, which is zipped close immediately after that. Wearing it in front of Mori would provoke snide comments about her loyalty and a special mission he should give her, and simply putting it in a drawer would lead her to thinking about it for the whole duration of the meeting. She makes sure to zip up the other pocket of the jacket as well, just so it wouldn’t look suspicious. Then, she turns away from her mirror to look for something else to waste time with.
It has been a few minutes now, since the knock. If she had to guess, she would say that Dazai has left, left to go tell Mori she is probably asleep, whine about having to come and get her, then get sent back to knock on her door again. The whole journey from her door to the elevator to the top floor and to Mori’s office takes no more than two minutes, but Dazai makes sure to find a way to make it longer every time.
Or maybe he is still standing behind the door right now, completely still. He is always full of surprises.
She presses her lips together and sits on the small armchair by the window, waiting for the second set of knocks as always. Peaking through the curtains the smallest bit, she can see the sun slowly rising up in the very distance, and she can almost imagine herself running out of the building and feeling the rays of it on her skin. It hasn’t been forever since she has done that, maybe a few months, but she can’t remember a time where she did so on her own. Of course, she wouldn’t be here anymore if she did so.
She slowly breathes in and lets the curtain fall back into its place. With all the tensions recently, the usual dance of constant surveillance has started to feel more like a safety measure. She hasn’t even been to the clinic since it all started.
The second series of knocks make their sound. It’s time to go.
She mentally scrolls through the steps she has to take, repeating it all in her head one by one—opening the door, replying to whatever Dazai throws at her, going with him to the elevator, then to the top floor, then to Mori’s office, and then as the last step, standing straight and waiting for the man to let them in. It’s not a perfect list of steps, this is only the second time she has done it with Dazai being a factor, but it has to be good enough to get her through.
She begins on the first step, stands up and moves towards the door. A few seconds after the knocking fully stops, she pulls on the handle, only enough to let herself through, and steps out into the hallway.
She doesn’t know where Dazai lives, but she does know that he doesn’t live in the main building like she does. As if he requires less surveillance from Mori than she does. An absurd notion, considering the types of things he says all the time. She also knows that he smells horrible most of the time, so maybe it’s for the better that she doesn’t have to share too much space with him. Something else she knows, funnily enough, is that the boy has an alternative way to get out of the building—she has never seen him actually leave through the main one, no matter how long she has watched the entrance for one reason or another.
The second step, replying to Dazai, doesn’t happen, because he doesn’t say anything. Just looks her up and down, then scrunches his nose and turns to walk to the elevator. It’s a small deviation, but it’s enough to have her need to pause for a moment before she follows.
The rest of the steps go as normal. They wait behind Mori’s door, until Elise opens it with a grin that feels too much like looking in an old mirror, and the two are allowed to step inside behind her.
The door closes with a small thud. She keeps her head straight and her hands clasped behind her back. Her hatred will have to stay contained for the next little while, and only show itself in the clenches of her hidden fists.
“Ah, you’re finally here.” Mori smiles upon seeing them and beckons them forward towards his desk. “Always good to see the two of you getting along.”
It’s an odd comment to make, because she and Dazai have never not gotten alone. Or, rather, they have never been together for long enough to be able to not get along. But knowing the man, he means something completely different by that, so she tries not to think about it as she bows her head. When she lifts it again, she notices the man looking at Dazai instead.
“We’ve managed to get intel on one of the members that has been planning to defect.” Mori begins, picking out a few papers from the top of the pile that seems to always rest on his desk and putting it on his desk on the end closer to the two of them. “Dazai, you are to go to his place and take care of that. Get all the information you can out of him, why he is defecting, what his plans have been, who is supporting him through it. You know what to do.”
Looking at him out of the corner of her eyes, he doesn’t look particularly taken aback by the task at hand. If anything, he just looked bored. He makes two steps forward, picks up the papers, and then takes one step back. The papers go into his coat’s pocket without a single glance spared at them.
Then, Mori looks to her. “Yosano, dear, you will go with him. Just as a precaution.”
That makes Dazai jump. For just a second, he seems confused as he turns to look straight at her, and then he goes back to looking only at Mori. “Why?”
Mori, his hands clasped together as usual and his expression not betraying a single thing, only smiles again and vanishes Elise before she can pipe up with anything. “As I said, a precaution. You’ll see.”
For just one second, Yosano lets in the fleeting thought that she might be bait. Or she might be sacrifice. Perhaps Mori’s patience for her to get her act together has finally run out.
But she takes in a deep breath and echoes what the boy just said. “Why?”
Mori holds her stare, his smile doesn’t change and of course neither does his tone. “You’ll understand.”
There is nothing more to say after that—or, well, maybe there are just no more answers to get. The boy looks at her with pity in his eye and doesn’t accompany her back to her room.
The next time they meet, it’s towards the end of sunset that same day, on the same street where the target’s apartment is located. She can’t help but notice, as she steps out of the building for the first time in months, how no one shows up to stop her at the very last second.
For a moment, she thinks of picking up her pace and running in the wrong direction and only stopping when she doesn’t recognise her surroundings anymore. But of course, that distance before reaching the unrecognisable wouldn’t be very long, and she feels that if she weren’t a sacrifice already, then she would be the instant she did that.
The apartment they stop at together is as average as any, nothing special about it. The only thing that makes it more or less unfortunate than the other apartments is the young man on the fourth floor, first unit to the right. On a normal night, it would be quiet and its residents would be eating their dinners in relative peace. Tonight, Yosano is sitting on the lowest step of the stairs leading up to the fourth floor, the sounds of screams echo through the darkness that has taken over the building, and the residents know better than to do anything but hold each other tightly and pray that they aren’t next. And they won’t be, as long as they don’t decide to interfere.
The screams quiet down just a minute before she hears the tapping of shoes coming down the stairs. She’s not sure if Dazai could even get a name between all the screams, she can smell his already bad smell now mixed with blood too. She begins to stand and takes the first step downwards, when she’s stopped.
“I need the help of your ability.”
Two things strike her in place. One, she doesn’t think Dazai has ever talked to her past a snide remark.
Two, her ability is a well-kept secret.
She looks towards where she assumes Dazai stands. Her eyes have gotten used to the darkness, but that doesn’t make the boy dressed in all black any easier to spot. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”
“You do. Come up now. He hasn’t spilled anything yet, but he’ll have to eventually.”
Yosano repeats, despite realising the futility of it. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”
Her wrist is grabbed from somewhere in the darkness.
“Your records aren’t that hard to find, you know.”
She doesn’t get the chance to reply, at least not after she has been taken up the stairs, stumbling and almost tripping over some of the steps in the darkness, and the stench of blood gets even more all-consuming. The two stand in the doorway and Dazai nudges her forward the smallest bit.
She stares into the unit, the one where there is a man waiting for his death, the one where she is expected to crush those hopes again, as if she hasn’t sworn off doing so.
Then again, she swore off a lot of things a lot of times. So she tries a different approach. “No. I won’t use my ability.” Dazai giggles. Like she is so funny. “I’m serious. I refuse.”
She imagines Dazai rolling his eyes, and then feels another nudge for her to go in. She stands as still as she can. Dazai is a bundle of bones and not much else, she doubts he would even be able to properly push her inside. So she doesn’t move.
“But you will.” Dazai says after a short while. “Because it’s the boss’ order. That is why you’re here. Why else? It’s common sense.”
What comes out next is a rarely shown bout of hatred. The one that usually gets silenced by the clenching of her fists and gritting her teeth, and gets buried somewhere in her room, under her bed or inside a drawer or behind a painting. Maybe it’s just something about being in the fresh air after so long that gets to her. “Well, I refuse. What is Mori going to do to convince me?”
There is a hum from Dazai as he considers the possibilities. Well, the easiest way he can find that out would be to call Mori, right here and right now. But he does something completely different instead. “Well, maybe not Mori, but I might be able to.”
It’s almost comical the way that immediately grabs Yosano’s attention. She can see him better now, make out the outline of his hair and his bandages, and his eyes glow in almost an unnatural way, like he has finally found some sort of entertainment. “You?”
Dazai smiles, and she almost recognises that smile. Almost, but not quite. “How about a deal? You have to have questions. You do this, and then as a favour, I’ll answer one. Whatever it is. I know so much more than you think, you know.”
She can’t help but stare at him with wide eyes. A deal? More like a game. It’s obvious that’s what this is to him. And there is no telling that he would actually stand his side and answer truthfully. And there is also—
“I can’t.”
“Is that so?”
“I can’t use my ability.”
“Well you’ll have to.”
Something flairs up in her chest and she raises her voice. “Are you not listening to me? I can’t.”
“I’m listening. And I’m saying you’ll have to either way, because there’s no way you were sent with me for any other reason.”
It takes everything in her power for her to not turn and kick him in the stomach. Maybe she can do it at a better time. “So that’s what this is. He wants me to be useful again, so he’s made an ultimatum. Either I figure it out, or he gets rid of me.” She lets her eyes fall to the ground, and then she looks back up again. “You get rid of me.”
Dazai laughs this time, instead of the giggle from before. It rings out clear in the quiet of it all and only serves to prove her predictions, but also not.
She takes out her gun. She grabs it by its barrel and holds it out towards him. “Well then, get on with it. There’s no point in delay.” She’s not sure where she has gotten the sudden boldness, the sudden readiness to throw herself away, but it feels appropriate to the situation.
“Get rid of you? Oh, no, I’m afraid Mori sees you as too valuable still.” Dazai nudges her hand with the gun held in it away from himself with a grin. “But you did surprise me with this one. No, you won’t be the one getting executed. I won’t be so sure about anyone else you know though. You do know other people, no? Somewhere out there. Then again, I won’t be surprised if you don’t.”
It’s a blow low enough that she can’t imagine dodging it, and it hits exactly where it is meant to. It stops her from moving. It stops her from doing anything.
From somewhere in the darkness of the apartment unit comes a weak moan.
Dazai licks his lips and nudges her once more. “Oh, don’t worry. You still have a few more minutes to figure it out. I’m sure it can’t be that hard.”
She hides the shaking of her hands by clasping them together, and crosses the threshold into the unit.
The man is already close to death when she arrives at his side.
He might have been attractive before, or maybe he hadn’t been, there isn’t enough of his face left for her to judge. She can feel some of his teeth under her shoes. His fingers are pointing in every wrong angle possible and she would have a hard time finding a spot on the floor around him that isn’t slippery with blood. There are deep wounds on his body, all deep enough to bleed heavily and none in a spot bad enough for death to come quick. She isn’t sure if he even hears her approach.
She kneels by the man’s side, feeling the warm blood soaking through her slacks and likely staining her knees. Dazai hasn’t followed her, she can still see him standing at the doorway. She assumes he is still grinning, grinning about how easy it was to force her into doing this song and dance.
She reaches her hand out and touches it to where she assumes would have been the man’s cheek at some point. The flesh is wet under her fingers and her touch makes the man twitch involuntarily.
And for a long moment, nothing happens.
It’s just when she has given up, just when she has decided that everyone she has ever talked to are now resigned to their new fates, when the first butterfly lights up the space around.
And then after there are more butterflies, every single one a curse that makes her stomach twist in the dread of knowing what comes next. And of course it comes. It comes in the form of Dazai, who saunters in and makes a comment about how it wasn’t so bad after all. It comes in the form of even more screams that fill the small apartment unit. It comes in the form of Dazai grabbing her wrist from the corner she has sat herself in and bringing her to the mutilated body again.
And she doesn’t know how many times the cycle repeats. Whether it’s a group of soldiers or a man who walked out of line, it’s always the same result in the end. That’s the curse she carries with her. She understands.
When she comes back to her senses, it’s because of Dazai’s sudden scream. They’re out on the streets, well on their way back to Mori. The moon is shining high up in the sky. They are both covered in blood. Her hair has been pulled back in a ponytail and she doesn’t even know where the hairband came from. And Dazai is clutching his stomach tightly as he whines about her being crazy.
Ah. She must have kicked him.
She doesn’t let that stop her from kicking him again.
And then, she feels like she can finally breathe. “What were you saying?”
Dazai is much less intimidating when he is curled into himself like that. He looks up at her and grits his teeth, and she thinks this might just be the most agitated she has seen him. “I said we should get icecream. For the success.”
Yosano stares at him, and she half expects him to grab her hand and begin dragging her to another dying man. Her throat feels dry and clogged, but the words come out smooth either way. “Well, you got my answer.”
Her hands are shaking. As she turns away, she unzips her pockets and hides them in there.
She feels it. The metal butterfly in her right pocket. It was stupid to bring it along, with how the night turned out.
Slowly, she takes it out and holds it behind her head. “Take it.”
It takes a minute for Dazai to finally begin approaching her. “What?”
“You heard me. I said take it. I don’t have a use for it anymore.” If she has to guess, she would say he thinks this is some sort of trap.
Eventually, he takes it. It’s a careful movement where their skin doesn’t touch and the butterfly quickly slips out of her fingers.
She hears Dazai hum as he looks closely at the little thing, and then he puts it in his own pocket as he begins to walk ahead of her.
“Are you going to ask me the question?” Dazai asks as they walk along the dark streets.
“The question?”
“The question. The one I promised I would answer. Are you never going to ask it? It’s not the type of deal that carries on after tonight, I’ll let you know.”
Yosano nods slowly as her senses begin to come back more and more, the more she thinks of what to ask.
There are all kinds of questions she can go for. Where does he come from? Where does he live? Why did Mori take him in? What is wrong with him? What’s with his eye? However in the end, she ends up circling back to the one that she can’t stop thinking about.
“Why do you stay?” She asks, and then she thinks to elaborate. “Why don’t you leave, I mean. I can’t, but I’ve seen that you can. There is no reason for you to be here.”
“Ah! That’s a good one.” Dazai lowers his speed so that they are walking side by side as he speaks. “You know how Mori—Well, of course you do, how he loves to play these mind games?”
Slowly, she nods. She is very well aware, alright.
“Well, it’s funny, isn’t it? He thinks he’s playing me.” She turns her head to the side to take a good look at his face. She can’t tell if he is being serious or not. “It’s funny how he thinks he can manipulate me. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t understand I’m the one who’s playing. When do you think he’ll figure it out?”
Yosano doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Whether to scream or give up entirely. Whether to kick him again or pull his hair.
In the end, she can only whisper. “So the way you say it, you’re the one who is actually in power?”
“Well—Yes! You catch on quick.”
She stops walking, and after a second, so does Dazai. Standing side by side like this, she suddenly realises that she doesn’t actually need to look up to stare him in the eyes. They are exactly the same height, right now. His expression looks smug enough to make her fingers curl up into a fist.
But then she uncurls them, and she lets out a deep breath. He doesn’t move a single bit, just waits for her next move.
Slowly, she raises up her hand, puts her palm on his forehead, and pushes him.