Chapter Text
The Breakup (or, How Monopoly Ruined Everything)
If the Agency had thought having Fyodor Dostoyevsky around was bad, they had severely underestimated how much worse things could get without him.
Not that anyone wanted to admit they’d gotten used to him, but they had.
Fyodor had been a deeply unsettling, cryptic presence—like a cursed antique in the corner of a dimly lit room—but he had, at the very least, kept Dazai entertained. With Fyodor around, Dazai had been… marginally more tolerable. He had spent more time playing chess and engaging in weird, existential debates rather than actively trying to get Kunikida to collapse from stress-induced rage.
Now, though?
Now, Dazai was acting like an unsupervised, deeply depressed cat.
His dark jokes had worsened, his suicide attempts had gotten more elaborate (which was saying something), and—most concerningly—he had started drinking. A lot. Not in the fun, Ranpo getting drunk and declaring himself King of the Agency way, but in the actively avoiding work and disappearing for days way.
Yesterday, Kunikida had found him drinking gin at 10 AM.
This morning, he had “accidentally” spilled an entire pot of coffee onto Kunikida’s neatly written reports, claiming it was a “sign from the universe” that work was pointless.
And now, Dazai was sprawled dramatically across the Agency’s spinning chair, looking out the window with the tragic melancholy of a man mourning a lost era.
Yosano, who had just returned from a medical conference, put her hands on her hips and scanned the room. “Alright. What the hell happened while I was gone?”
Atsushi, who had been trying (and failing) to gently prod Dazai into doing something useful, scratched the back of his head. “Um… Dazai-san and Fyodor had an argument.”
Yosano blinked. Then frowned. Then turned to Dazai, who was still gazing wistfully out the window like a jilted lover in a period drama.
“…Seriously?” she asked.
Dazai turned to her slowly, as if he had just now remembered other people existed. Then, he smiled too brightly and clapped his hands together. “Oh, don’t worry! Fyodor-kun and I split up!”
Silence.
Atsushi gaped. “Wait—what?! For real?”
Yosano narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And that’s… fine with you?”
“Absolutely!” Dazai declared, waving a hand. “We just weren’t compatible! Different worldviews and all that~.” His voice was unnervingly breezy, his grin wide and utterly fake. “Not like I cared about the anemic rat anyway.”
Atsushi and Yosano exchanged glances.
Neither of them believed him.
“…Wait a second.” Yosano suddenly squinted. “Don’t tell me—you two broke up because of that stupid argument during Monopoly?”
Dazai froze.
Atsushi groaned. “Oh, God.”
“It wasn’t a stupid argument,” Dazai muttered darkly, spinning away in his chair.
Yosano smirked. “Dazai.”
Dazai huffed. “He cheated.”
Atsushi sighed. “Dazai-san, we all played that game. Fyodor didn’t cheat.”
“He made me pay rent when I landed on his hotels!”
“That’s… the rules.”
“I’M HIS BOYFRIEND,” Dazai insisted, scandalized.
Yosano actually had to bite back laughter. “EX-boyfriend.”
Dazai crossed his arms, grumbling. “And then he said—”
Flashback: The Monopoly Incident of Doom
The Armed Detective Agency had, somehow, been roped into playing Monopoly.
It was, predictably, a disaster.
Tanizaki had gone bankrupt within an hour. Kenji had quit halfway through, declaring that he “didn’t believe in capitalism.” Kyoka had lost all her money to Ranpo and then wandered off to buy snacks.
Now, only five players remained.
Kunikida. Yosano. Ranpo. Dazai.
And Fyodor.
Dazai was glaring at the board like it had personally betrayed him.
Fyodor, utterly unfazed, sat with his usual slouched posture, tapping his fingers against his chin as he surveyed the carnage before him. His properties covered half the board.
Dazai landed on Fyodor’s hotel.
Again.
He stared at the tiny plastic house. Then at Fyodor. Then back at the board.
His expression darkened.
“You LYING, CHEATING PIECE OF SHIT!”
Fyodor arched a delicate brow. “Oh?” His voice was as smooth as ever. “And you, my love, are a hypocritical idiot who thinks he can get away with everything. Welcome to the real world.”
Dazai gasped, clutching his chest like a scandalized Victorian widow.
“I’M LEAVING YOU,” he announced.
Then, spinning toward Atsushi, he added dramatically, “AND I’M TAKING ATSUSHI WITH ME.”
Atsushi, who had nothing to do with this, looked alarmed. Silently, he picked up the Monopoly board and began packing it away.
“I think we should stop playing,” he said weakly.
Back to the Present
Yosano was actually crying from laughter.
“Seriously, Dazai?” she wheezed.
Dazai pouted. “It wasn’t just that! He never understood me. He wouldn’t even agree to a double suicide!”
Atsushi paled. “Uh—Dazai-san, I don’t think—”
“Oh, but that wasn’t the real problem,” Dazai continued, shaking his head. “You see, Fyodor thinks he’s so much better than me.” He slumped over the spinning chair. “He said I was just looking for something deeper, but he has goals—unlike some people.”
Yosano blinked. “…I mean…”
Dazai suddenly sat up, grinning darkly. “And I said, ‘Fyodor, you don’t understand how the world works at all. You just have a savior complex.’”
Silence.
Atsushi gulped.
This was… a lot.
Dazai waved a hand, grinning. “But don’t worry! I’m completely over it~.”
Atsushi did not believe him.
And neither did Yosano.
Because for someone who was so over it, Dazai sure had been talking about Fyodor an awful lot.
Later: Fyodor at Dazai’s Apartment
Atsushi had not been expecting to find Fyodor at Dazai’s apartment.
Yet there he was, standing by the door, retrieving a few belongings.
He looked… different.
No smug amusement. No eerie, knowing smile. Just… exhausted.
Atsushi hesitated. “…Fyodor-san?”
Fyodor barely glanced at him. “I’m taking my things.” His voice was sharper than usual. Colder.
Atsushi frowned. “Are you okay?”
Fyodor finally met his gaze.
And for a split second, something flickered in his eyes.
Then it was gone.
“I thought Dazai and I were the same,” he murmured. “That he understood.”
Atsushi’s stomach twisted.
“…Are you sure he doesn’t?”
Fyodor stared at him.
Then, softly—
“You are too kind, Nakajima Atsushi.”
And with that, he left.
Even Later: Atsushi’s Horrible Discovery
Atsushi had not expected to find Fyodor again—this time, sitting alone on a park bench, looking even more miserable .
“…Fyodor-san?” he asked hesitantly.
Fyodor didn’t look up. “Ah. I’m stalking Dazai.”
Atsushi choked. “EXCUSE ME?!”
Fyodor sighed. “Quiet.”
Then his eyes narrowed.
Across the park, talking to Chuuya, was Dazai.
Fyodor scowled.
Atsushi paled.
Oh no .
This was not good.
Cue disaster .