Chapter Text
My name is Osamu Dazai. And certain circumstances have led me to kill myself.
Who knew killing yourself would take this much effort? Every other time Dazai tried it never required such meticulous planning but he supposed it would be worth it. He’d been planning it for weeks at this point. Mainly because he couldn’t just kill himself anywhere. It had to be here. On this bridge where he died. Making sure no-one else was around was the main difficulty.
Dazai didn’t believe in the afterlife or any of that crap. He didn’t think he’d see him after he died just because he was also going to die here. However, being in the same place as his resting place gave Dazai something to look forward to. It was comforting to be in the last remains of his presence.
For you see, Dazai had nothing left. No friends. No future. No aspirations. His family was dead and soon so would he. He’d read in a book that killing yourself by overdose of these particular pills was probably the most peaceful way to go, like falling asleep. He was on a bit of a time crunch and didn’t want to his death to be too painful.
Gripping the bottle of pills that he’d stolen from a pharmacy, Dazai hesitated. This was for the best wasn’t it? Someone like him couldn’t live. Especially after what he’d done. Dazai’s actions were deplorable but he didn’t regret it. Only something less than human could feel no remorse for his actions. If he didn’t insure his death someone else would (and something told him pain would be the aim).
Yet another part of him, a nagging voice in the background of his head, wanted him to live. It wasn’t his own. He was sure of that much.
“I’m going to grow up and be strong like big brother! You’ll see Osamu, I’ll help lots of people!”
Kousuke, a kid from his orphanage, always had an overbearing optimism about the future. Dazai had been lounging on the courtyard’s rather coarse ground while Kousuke ‘trained’ which, in reality, was just hitting the ground with a stick. Nonetheless, the boy was insistent on this delusional idea that he’d grow up and become like him. Idiotic really. Stubborn until the very end.
The sun had been blazing and his shirt had stuck to his chest creating an overbearing amount of discomfort. Yet with unwavering resolve and boundless energy, Kousuke had ran around the courtyard proclaiming he was going to protect everyone and be a hero. Dazai hadn’t even moved but he felt exhausted watching the boy. It was a stupid idea though. It still is.
What confused him most was that he couldn’t understand why he was thinking of that now. Maybe it was a trick of the brain to preserve his life. That had to be it. There was no way he actually wanted to live. There wasn’t anything left for him here but a well of self pity and mourning of those he loved. That kind of life just wasn’t worth the hassle.
Everything around him was flooded with a gradient of orange to red, including himself. Was this what he saw before dying? He hoped so. The sun seemed to warp around him. A final farewell as the last lingering warmth of the day descended in the distance.
“You should know this yourself. No matter whether you’re on the side of killing people or saving people, there will never be anything that can surpass your mind-“
He’d delayed long enough with fruitless sentiment.
Fighting his instincts, Dazai popped the bottle and swallowed as many pills as he could. One, two, three…five……eight….twelve and so on. Each one bringing him closer to death. It scratched his throat a bit swallowing them dry but he knew it wouldn’t matter. It would be over in minutes.
He was about to lie down and prepare for his eternal slumber when a man’s hand cupped his cheeks, pushing his mouth open. Before he could even comprehend who this was or what was happening, the man had shoved his other hand down Dazai’s throat forcing him to vomit profusely.
Dazai couldn’t stop gagging as he dropped to the floor. Hunched over, his body violently convulsed as the translucent liquid stained the pavement with bits of what he presumed to be the pills he just swallowed. Gasping to catch his breath, his nose was assaulted with the smell rotten eggs.
He thought his throat was sore before but it was in agony now. Still heaving, he wiped his mouth and looked up to see who had rudely interrupted him. Dazai hadn’t even sensed him approach. Just who the hell could do that?
A man in a long black trench coat and silver hair stood above him with a casual smile as if he hadn’t just assaulted him. More pointedly, the man’s eyes were strangely entrancing with a deep purple, similar to the night sky, that were brightened by gold flecks reminiscent of the sunset he’d witnessed.
“Are you okay, kid? That was a dangerous amount of pills you were taking Y’know,” The man spoke reaching out as a form of concern emerged on his face.
Examining the extended hand, Dazai took note that disappearing up his coat sleeve appeared to be a series of restraints around his arm. A kink? Funny idea but unlikely. Still, normal people don’t run around with restraints. Ability users and criminals, however…An ability user then. One that that lacks control of the restrains indicated anything. The latter he was definitely sure of after forcibly inducing him to vomit.
Stumbling to his feet, he let out a “tch” in response.
“That was the point. Why would you interrupt my overdose?” Dazai asked with an involuntary croak in his voice.
The man stared, confused at his audacity to get angry at someone who saved his life.
Tilting his head, he responded with an unsure, “Yes..?”
What kind of idiot isn’t sure of something like that? Dazai sighed. Well, he wanted a clean suicide anyways. Getting a possibly kinky ability user involved kind of went against that.
“Whatever. I’ll try again tomorrow,” he muttered picking up what was left in the pill bottle. Shaking it, he heard the rattle of a handful of pills at the bottom. Definitely not enough for tomorrow. Groaning to himself about the extra work this person had caused him, he started thinking of a plan to find some more.
There was that pharmacist he’d robbed to get these but surely they’d recognise him on sight. Furthermore, he had the misfortune of being extremely recognisable. Dark wavy hair tied by a ribbon with dirty clothes and eye bags that would make a zombie blush. His lack of actual shoes didn’t help and-
Why was that man still here?
Glancing awkwardly at him, he noticed he hadn’t made any notion that he planned on leaving. Did he want something? He watched as the man looked from the vomit to himself and then asked,
“Are you hungry? I could kill for some chazuke right now.”
He’s seriously hungry after watching him spill his guts?
Baffled, Dazai attempted to inch away from the freak when his stomach growled.
Shit.
——————
Dazai doesn’t remember how he got dragged here by a stranger, whom he learned was called Atsushi Nakajima. Atsushi was a weird man. Firstly, upon closer inspection, he noticed how the restraints were not limited to his arms but were also tied to his legs, ankles and most strangely his neck. He didn’t just lack control he was completely and utterly incapable of control.
Secondly, the guy could down ten bowls of chazuke in ten minutes and still have room for seconds. He’d barely been able to eat one with the bitter residue of sick in his mouth. Watching Atsushi scoff everything down just made him even more sick.
The restaurant itself was fairly comfortable. They had tall wooden beams where he pondered the idea of hanging himself off of. On the other hand, Dazai’s feet ached and he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to climb up there while likely kicking off strangers hoping to save him. Furthermore,it wasn’t the bridge. Then again, had he just died like he intended none of the above would be an issue.
“Are you going to eat that?” Atsushi pointed to Dazai’s bowl with his mouth half full.
Pushing the bowl forward, he shrugged, “It’s all yours.”
The bowl was demolished in seconds. With a relieved exhale, it seemed Atsushi was finished, patting his stomach proudly. Dazai wondered if there had been a time in his life where food wasn’t so accessible.
He looked to Dazai and smiled, “So kid, what are your plans from here?”
“Plans…?” He pretended to think for a moment but ultimately settled on- “Killing myself I guess.”
“Really? That’s a shame.”
His face is strangely sincere for a man that barely knows him. The look of pity but understanding feels so abnormal on his face. From a stranger of all people that face would be possible under only one circumstance. Atsushi has gone through a similar thing.
Just then, his attention was brought to the front of the restaurant as the makeshift door was slashed into pieces and a man emerged from the other side. Holding a sword at his hip, he strolled inside only to be immediately met with the anger of the owner.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?! Are you going to pay for this?!” The owner raged at the bootleg knight.
He nodded, listening to their concerns, and then placed a hand on their shoulder reassuring them, “You needn’t worry. Any costs can be billed to the Armed Detective Agency.”
Armed Detective Agency? Wasn’t that just a band of freaks with abilities? One of the most infamous things they’d done involved almost setting off a pandemic of homicidal hallucinations. Sakura, a fellow kid where he’d grown up, was one of the many affected. They had to tie her up to stop her from clawing out someone’s eyes. Sufficed to say, he wasn’t a fan.
It’s a miracle they’re allowed to work legally when they do stuff like this all the time. At least Dazai wouldn’t have to interact with them-
“I’m looking for my partner, Atsushi Nakajima.”
He should’ve seen that coming. With a harsh glare, Dazai turned to face Atsushi who was now coyly trying to hide in the neck of his coat. Oh wow. Do people this stupid actually qualify as detectives nowadays?
The bootleg knight eventually found his partner and stood at the end of the table.
“Nakajima. I can see you.”
“I know that! I just don’t want to be associated with you right now!”
What a strange pair. The bootleg knight had dark brown hair and wore clothes of all red. Dazai was in rags and he still knew he looked better than that. The two exchanged a look. He bowed low beside the table.
“Apologies, let me introduce myself. My name is Tecchou Suehiro. I am Atsushi Nakajima’s partner. We both work at the Armed Detective Agency and are currently investigating a case-“
Before Tecchou could finish leaking all their personal information, Atsushi covered his mouth and laughed nervously, “You’ll tell him our IP address at this rate!”
Dazai’s ears pricked at the mention of an investigation. If he’s not going to die today then he might as well get something from the person who ruined it. With a grin, Dazai leaned forward eagerly.
“Investigation? What are you looking into?”
——————
“A mass murder at the Port Mafia huh? Someone like that has to be really skilled. An ability user, right?” Dazai hummed in his seat, cross legged.
Tecchou, having pulled up a stool from elsewhere, responded bluntly, “Yes. The police won’t do anything for the organisation-“
“And they’re not equipped for such an investigation,” Atsushi cut in, “The Agency deals with risky cases like these every day so the Mafia called in a favour.”
Favour? Dazai wasn’t aware the two groups held such close ties. Maybe meeting these freaks won’t go to waste. Tecchou was very sure of himself in a strategy to find the serial killer but Atsushi seemed particularly uncomfortable about the topic of the Port Mafia having let his partner take over the discussion. He’ll remember that.
“So, what are your leads?” Dazai asked while absentmindedly messing with the tip of a chopstick on the table’s surface.
“Red fabric,” Tecchou bluntly responded.
An ear piercing screech of a chopstick dragged into a wooden table echoed with Dazai’s flummoxed expression. Just a bit of fabric? No fingerprints. No weapon. Just a bit of coloured fabric which, he supposed, wasn’t nothing yet it didn’t feel like a very secure lead. Something like fabric could be found from any clothing item sold around the city.
“A piece of fabric?”
“Yes.”
“Did they kill people with it?”
“No. We believe they used a gun and knife interchangeably.”
They’re not even sure. At this point, Dazai isn’t even sure they’re detectives. They’re eccentric at best but complete dunces at worst. It certainly made the killer’s life easier.
Tapping his finger on his chin, Atsushi spoke up, “So, want to help us out, kid?”
“Kid…?” Dazai frowned. He’d been calling him that for awhile now. Did he seriously look that young? He grumbled a response, slouching forward, “I just turned twenty but…help how exactly?”
Tecchou continued, “We have reason to believe they’re going to a warehouse.”
A warehouse? Did they think they were stocking up on weapons? Or had they concluded it was some kind of hide out?
“And I can help by?”
“Being bait!” Atsushi chirped.
Maybe that second shot at killing himself wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow.
——————
The warehouse was close enough to the bridge where if he got stabbed he could probably make it in time. It had gotten pretty late. The bootleg knight had gone back to the Agency. Something about filing paperwork? That had been over two hours ago though. He had a feeling that was just to stall for back up and if they were lying to him then they already knew who the killer was.
Rather childishly, Dazai swung his feet over the edge of the box. He watched them go back and forth, occasionally scraping the grainy floor. Atsushi hadn’t taken his eyes off him for a single moment. The animalistic features of his eyes gave the impression of a predator observing its prey. He should probably put an end to this, right?
“Hey, Nakajima-san?”
Atsushi’s focused expression seemed to soften and fell into a warm smile, “Yes?”
Dazai couldn’t help but snort.
“Don’t be so coy~ How long have you known it was me?” He teased Atsushi with a grin which was returned.
“I’d had my suspicions from the moment we met. After our meal, I was fairly confident,” Atsushi spoke with a brittle expression. He was cautious. Most people of that intelligence would probably take the opportunity to brag. So he’s either not sure or Dazai misjudged him.
“Not many people actively try to gouge for information on the Port Mafia.” He raised an eyebrow, the gun at his hip rattled as he casually crossed over his leg.
“You were quite meticulous in covering your tracks. Aside from this little piece of a red ribbon which you didn’t bother to remove the rest of from your hair,” Atsushi indicated to Dazai‘s hair where a ribbon loosely fluttered, “or the pharmacy. They reported the stolen pills. Other than that, you were a ghost.” Atsushi explained with a shrug.
He nodded in understanding. In his defence, he didn’t think anyone would tail him and try to stop his suicide attempt that quickly. He’d given himself at least twenty four hours. Then again, he hadn’t taken into account this link between the Port Mafia and Armed Detective Agency either. Though they likely kept it under wraps for situations like these.
“But-“ Atsushi interjected his thoughts, “I think I know why.”
Oh?
Atsushi jumped from his box and approached, “Osamu, you don’t want to die yet. There’s something you haven’t done. I don’t know what it is but I know hesitation when faced with death. And when I saw you on that bridge?”
He leant forward just close enough that Dazai could make out his reflection in the slit of his pupil, “You were scared.”
“Don’t explain how I feel.” Dazai snapped as Atsushi moved away. Spinning on his heel, he began to pace with his back to Dazai.
“Sensitive topic?” He hummed.
Dazai glared bitterly, “If we want to talk about sensitive topics why don’t we discuss your affiliation with the Port Mafia.”
There was a pause as Atsushi looked over his shoulder seemingly surprised by the deductions he’d made. There was slight bewilderment in his words, “You’re clever.”
It was a natural conclusion. From how he clamped up at mention of the Port Mafia in the restaurant to this supposed ‘link’ between the Mafia and Agency. It can be assumed that ‘link’ is a person or relationship. Atsushi was always wary of conversation getting driven too far in that direction. So Dazai could only assume he was in the Mafia.
“I know.” Dazai responded confidently, “I don’t feel bad about what I did either. Not for killing all those mafia jerks or you.”
Confused, Atsushi furrowed his brow only to be met with the resounding echo of a gunshot. Within seconds, he collapsed to the floor coughing. Now he knew how Dazai felt at the bridge. Letting Dazai get close enough to slip his gun from his waist wasn’t his best idea.
Surprisingly, Atsushi stumbled to his feet mildly irritated, “I really like this coat. Did you have to blow a hole into it?”
Dazai was a good shot. A really good shot. His recent undertaking in the Port Mafia was proof. For someone that’s been fatally wounded he seemed awfully mobile. Unless-
“Your ability. It heals you doesn’t it? I hadn’t considered it had multiple properties.” He confessed irritated.
Atsushi beamed playfully, shrugging with his arms, “What can I say? One of my many gifts.”
If that’s the case then there was no point in fighting back. This man seemed kind. Deceivingly clever but surprisingly mild mannered.
“Well then-“ Dazai hopped off his own box and extended the gun to Atsushi, “I guess you’re going to hand me over to the Mafia for my punishment or even better- maybe you’ll kill me! Avenge some of your old colleagues.”
That seems to strike a nerve. Reluctantly, Atsushi took the gun from his hand and lifted it to Dazai’s head. He could tell he’d killed before. Something like this wouldn’t be a problem. It’d be quick. A bullet to the head. If it was done right. It wasn’t the place he wanted but he didn’t want to fight this guy just to bleed out. Though if the bullet wasn’t fired properly he might do that anyways. And who knows? Maybe if he grovels the guy might take him to the bridge. Oh but he probably should’ve mentioned that before the cold metal barrel of a gun was against his forehead.
This was annoying. He’d overlooked too much in a rush to end his life. He was exhausted, sore and just sick. Sick of the Port Mafia jerks. Sick of the Detective dunces. Sick of the sunset. Sick of memories. Sick of himself. That chazuke was the first actual meal he’d had in weeks and he didn’t even get to enjoy it because he felt too sick.
…
Why was he overthinking this so much now? Death was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
Unless, this detective, who’d gotten so much wrong was right about one thing. That he was actually scared to die?
Talk about ironic.
Dazai heard the click of the gun and then the slash of a sword, essentially simultaneously. He’d read somewhere that if you hear the gunshot then it didn’t kill you but the bullet didn’t appear to have even reached him.
Squinting open his previously tightly shut eyes, he saw the sliced hand of Atsushi clutched around the gun laying on the floor. Very soon Atsushi was alongside it on his knees, howling in agony.
“Tecchou! That hurt!” He screeched towards the door.
Whipping his head around, Dazai was met with the sight of what he could only assume was a portion of the Armed Detective Agency. They all looked as deceivingly clever as the next or perhaps they were just idiotic and Atsushi was the exception rather than the rule.
Dazai has to scramble mentally to make sense of what was going on. Atsushi’s partner, Tecchou if he recalled, had just sliced off his hand from the warehouse entrance. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he really epitomised the bootleg knight. Dazai concluded he must be able to control the length and size of his sword. Which was certainly a sentence.
“I cannot allow you to kill that man. He has to face justice through the proper authorities,” Tecchou firmly insisted.
Dazai was sure he heard Atsushi murmur that “The gun only had one bullet anyways…” but with everything happening he found Atsushi lying about killing him completely insignificant. They must have rushed in after the first shot was heard.
One of the others that joined Tecchou was…a child? The child clutched a (rather ugly) doll as their black porcelain eyes peered from behind a man in a cloak that’s hair covered his own eyes. The man held a book in his hand and acted rather skittishly. He looked as though he had the personality of a wet towel.
“I still don’t think you should cut off his hand so casually…” the wet towel mumbled to himself but it was difficult to make out when he was biting his nails. The kid didn’t even move, they just observed creepily. No-one seemed to acknowledge them either which just made it all the more unsettling.
The last person to enter was a girl-Is hiring children here normal? Though she looked a little older than the other kid, in how she held herself. Swiftly, she made her way through the crowd to Atsushi’s side. Her kimono fluttered to the ground, each movement graceful and precise.
“Let me help you reattach it,” she spoke with a dull tone. Dazai took note of the sharp glare she gave him before passing Atsushi his now weaponless severed hand. He hadn’t seen her swipe the gun into her pocket but it was the only assumption he could make. Looks like he wasn’t the only kleptomaniac.
At this point, Dazai felt obliged to speak up, “Okay, what is going on??”
Atsushi rose beside him, holding his wrist to the nub of his arm. It looked painful. The small winces in his face certainly supported that idea. Tecchou was the one who got the first word though.
“We’ll be handing you over to the authorities in due course. From there-“
A loud impression of an incorrect buzzer echoed the warehouse walls. Everyone turned to Atsushi with the same puzzled expression. There was a brief blue glow of his ability as his hand reanimated itself.
“We’re not handing him to the authorities,” he said nonchalantly, rubbing his wrist between his fingers. No one else seemed to have caught up to him. Even Dazai had no idea where he was going with this.
The kimono girl attempted to pipe in, “Because we’re giving him to the mafia?”
Dazai really hoped not. He rather liked his torture free record. However, it’s the option that made the most sense. They had hired the Detective Agency after all.
Surprisingly, Atsushi gave a resounding, “Nope!”
Eagerly, he whirled to face Dazai. His eyes were truly unnerving, scanning every inch of him as if searching for a reason to doubt a decision he’d clearly already made. Without turning back, Atsushi called out, “Hey, Poe-kun?”
The skittish wet towel jolted, “Uhm- Yes?”
Atsushi looked over his shoulder smugly, “You said we were short staffed, right?”
An uproar immediately unfolded. Atsushi clearly hadn’t consulted anyone before hand. He just planned to hire a known serial killer on their staff because…why would he do that? Dazai could see that Atsushi certainly sympathised with him but they were different people. Atsushi looked like twenty years of guilt all wrapped up in a trench coat whereas Dazai was a bottomless pit without remorse nor feeling that only knew how to consume.
While they dispersed into their arguments, Dazai had to re-track the conversation. The idea of hiring Dazai was idiotic. Impulsively stupid and irrational. Clearly everyone else agreed, except that kimono girl who was silently compliant. Yet, the man didn’t seem the slightest bothered. The noise of arguments faded into the background of his mind. It didn’t seem to matter what everyone else’s opinion was. This man, this stranger, that he’d known for less than a day had made his decision.
Pulling his coat from his shoulders, Atsushi flung it over Dazai’s shoulders. Those restraints he ogled at earlier were clearer than ever. They were wrapped as though keeping the very fabric of his being together and excruciatingly painful to look at. A part of him wondered what would happen if he removed them. Did he collapse like a doll? Or like cogs in a busted machine?
The warmth of the fabric engulfed him in a way he didn’t know he needed. It was like the bridge or going home to the orphanage and him. His whole body curled inward, Dazai wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to when he hadn’t killed all those Port Mafia jerks. He wanted to go back to before he died. Before everyone he loved died. It wasn’t fair. Why did good people die while monsters like Dazai got to live their destructive and pathetic lives?
“There is no place in this world that can fill your loneliness. You will linger in the darkness forever.”
“Dazai?” Atsushi placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice concerned and sincere, breaking him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even realised everyone had stopped arguing. They each looked to him with pity. It wasn’t until he went to wipe his face did he feel the wet splotches of tears that had streamed down his cheek. Laughing to himself, he dried his face. He hadn’t even noticed.
He raised his head to see the faces of judging strangers, “Don’t look at me like that,” Dazai barked, “I’m allowed to feel sad without being swarmed by a pity party.”
Rubbing his shoulder, Atsushi nodded in agreement. Everyone else relaxed when he did. The wet towel or “Poe-kun” as he responded to earlier spoke up, “Nakajima-san-“
Dazai couldn’t see Atsushi’s face when he turned to Poe but it must’ve been intimidating enough for him to re-think his wording very carefully.
Hesitantly, he spoke, “You…can’t make decisions like this on a whim.”
“I’ll handle the fallout with the President, don’t worry,” Atsushi assured returning to face Dazai. He looked pissed. There were glances of uncertainty between the rest of the group but they seemed to trust his judgement. The wet towel was clearly the least convinced followed by the weird doll carrying child that was eyeing Dazai skeptically. Weirdly enough, Tecchou was the most vocally on board with this impromptu idea.
“If you believe this man worthy of redemption then I shall support you both in this endeavour.”
Atsushi didn’t respond but Dazai felt his hand tighten on his shoulder.
“However,” Atsushi must’ve known that he wasn’t finished. Tecchou redirected to him, “Dazai, for your crimes of murdering over a hundred Port Mafia agents some form of punishment must be made.”
That was exceptionally vague. Better than handing him over to the Port Mafia idea, so he wasn’t complaining. The kimono girl interjected, “We should return to the agency then. It’s better to discuss there than here.”
There was a few mutters and nods at her words. The girl doesn’t seem to care either way. Although, she had been watching him cautiously the entire conversation. Probably a wise decision.
She doesn’t wait for anyone to verbalise their agreement and strode straight out with a frustrated wet towel and creepy child following after her. If he started working at this agency then he wanted nothing to do with that thing.
Tecchou loitered and leaned into Atsushi’s ear, he whispered, “I’ll try to convince the others as best I can. In the meantime, there’s an empty room at the dorms and Rimbaud should have some clothes to spare.”
“Thank you, Tecchou,” he gave a heartfelt smile to his partner who bowed his head in return. After that, he quickly removed himself from the warehouse.
Atsushi let his hand, that had started digging into Dazai’s shoulder, drop to his side with an exhale. Lifting his head to Dazai, he let out an awkward laugh, “That was probably a lot. Let’s take a breather outside.”
——————
The cold breeze was like a reward as they stood outside the warehouse. It bristled through their hair and neutralised the previous warmth Atsushi’s coat had brought. Ripples of water nearby was the only sound that rung in his ears for a time. The sky was dotted with white powder and a glowing full moon. Atsushi stared at it intently with a slight twitch of the hand. His eyes gleamed a gold that contrasted with the silver linings of the moon that outlined his face.
Dazai reached out and held his hand in support. It felt right in the moment. His ability washed over the other and caught him completely off guard as his demeanour shifted. Atsushi’s eyes sharpened, observing Dazai with perplexment.
“Atsushi?” Dazai didn’t wait for a response and inquired further, “Why did you leave the Port Mafia?”
His eyes widened at the invasive question. Invasive but not a question he was scared to answer. He pondered momentarily before landing on the response, “Because I didn’t want to hurt people anymore. I never really did but it wasn’t my choice. I was dealt rough cards and worked with what I had. Of course, I’m still a despicable person for everything I did there. I don’t expect forgiveness. Helping others is how I repent for it all. That’s why I left.”
There was obvious resentment for who he was and still is, however, his response was genuine. He wanted to help people and become better. Being good or bad doesn’t make a difference to Dazai. At the end of the day, it’s just people living their lives in whatever way they can.
“Since both sides are the same, become a good person. Save the weak, protect orphans.“
“My turn to ask a question!” Atsushi spoke enthusiastically, “What’s your ability? The reports we got from the Mafia mentioned you had one but it wasn’t that specific.”
He was probably suspicious of what Dazai had just done when he touched him. He figured Atsushi’s ability was acting up. Nullifying it was the least he could do for everything that had happened.
Sensing Dazai’s hesitance, Atsushi started, “Mine is called Beast Beneath the Moonlight. I can turn into a tiger that magically regenerates their limbs.”
He does jazz hands alongside it which gets a dumbfounded look from Dazai. Atsushi grumbled, “Yeah it doesn’t make much sense to me either. And you?”
“No Longer Human. I can nullify other peoples abilities just by touching them,” he said raising Atsushi’s hand intertwined with his. Atsushi nodded along but seemed stumped by something in particular.
“In that case, I’m surprised you just gave up like that,” Atsushi sighed with relief. As much as he was surprised he was clearly grateful. He doesn’t strike Dazai as the kind of person to seek out violence for violence sake.
Dazai didn’t respond. He let go of Atsushi’s hand just to cling to the coat he had draped over his shoulders. Not noticing ,or not caring for, his discomfort, Atsushi pressed, “I mean, considering how you swiftly annihilated a good portion of the Mafia I kinda assumed you’d just kill me.”
“And you’d let me?” Dazai retorted with a frown. He didn’t need to be told he was a good killer. He knew that. It disgusted him.
Atsushi swatted the air with light-hearted laughter, “Of course not! I’d put up a fight. I just assumed you would too. Especially if you’d used your ability,” his head tilted in curiosity. He really looked like a stray cat when he asked, “So?”
“It’s a stupid reason,” he answered dryly.
Not buying it, Atsushi folded his arms across his chest, “It can’t be more stupid than the idea a Mafia serial killer let an unarmed AND retired member go just because he felt like it.”
Dazai didn’t like the pushy nature in seeking his reasoning however a part of him understood it was likely to feel out how good of a fit to the agency he would be. In terms of eccentricity, Dazai is positive he’d get full marks by their standards. On the other hand, his morality score would be on the lower end of the scale. He didn’t want it to be but…
Nonetheless, he responded “…What you said earlier about hesitating in death. There was something my…friend- No, I want to do before killing myself.” ‘Because that’s never going to change,’ he scarcely avoided blurting in the moment.
“What’s that?” he probed.
“Regardless of whether it’s justice or evil, to you, there isn’t a big difference between the two… But, doing that would be better.”
“I want to be a good person.”
Atsushi laughed. It wasn’t mockingly. It was more so a response in understanding his desire. Someone from the Port Mafia didn’t likely defect to the Armed Detective Agency without some form of a kill count.
“I think I can help with that,” Atsushi grinned.
Whatever Atsushi had been testing him for it appeared Dazai had passed with flying colours.
———
As they walked through the streets, Dazai now wearing Atsushi’s shoes, Atsushi mentioned, “Oh, can I have my coat back later? It was a gift from a friend.”
His friend has some interesting fashion ideas to put someone as bright as Atsushi in a grim trench coat.
Dazai huffed a response, “Yeah, it’s ugly anyways.”
“WHAT?!”