Chapter Text
Dazai Osamu did not like school.
This wasn’t anything special, of course, most high schoolers had a dislike of the hellish place.
But Dazai was in an unusual spot; that being going to a new school in the middle of the school year, which was it’s own type of hell Dazai was especially used too.
See, back when he lived with his mother they often moved, she refused money from his father who offered it quite frequently.
His father, who he was now staying with; and used to only stay with over the summer, was a doctor, and as such was quite well off.
Still, this was different than switching schools because his mom couldn’t pay rent, this was different because he likely wouldn’t be moving ever again, so if he messed it up, that was that.
The young man still plied himself out of bed after his sister, Elise, poured water on his face.
“I’m going to kill you,” Dazai seethed to the giggling eight-year-old who left the room in a hurry.
Now, with his face soaked he made his way to the bathroom, using the hand towel to dry off his face before brushing his teeth, and using the bathroom, then he made his way back to his room, grabbing his school uniform from the closet.
His arms were covered in band-aids which were to cover up the… activities of the prior night.
With a heavy sigh he changed into his school uniform before making his way down the stairs.
“Good morning, Osamu,” his father greeted.
“Morning,” he said in reply, ignoring the fact that his father had made breakfast and instead going for cereal; he preferred it, his father’s house never felt like home, not fully, and having actually made food felt weird, and foreign.
Luckily his father didn’t comment, and after eating he drove both kids to their schools.
This was it, this was his school, he’d spend the rest of the year here, and probably the rest of Highschool.
He would likely know some kids, he often hung out with people during the summer, but he wasn’t really close to any of them, he never really had any real friends, living in two different places did that, he supposed.
He made his way inside the buildings there were kids around him, but he paid them no mind; he already wanted to go home, and he had only been here less than five minutes.
He made his way to his class room-1B-and went inside, there were a few kids already seated; he didn’t recognize any of them, and though a few looked up when he walked in, they quickly went back to their conversation.
Dazai took a seat in the back of the class, over by the windows.
He got out his phone, mindlessly scrolling social media, he turned it off and put it in his bag when more students started filling in.
And then in came the teacher, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to introduce himself to the class; nothing quite isolates you like having to tell the whole class you’re the new kid.
Unfortunately for him his teacher did in fact say the dreaded, “today we have a new student. Mori, would you like to introduce yourself?”
He cringed at the use of his father’s surname, it wasn’t his name, it was just his father trying to control him more.
He stood up, and putting on his most charming smile said, “my names Osamu Dazai , and now that I’m here, all your lives have just gotten better.” He turned and winked at one of the girls in class, who blushed lightly.
He then sat back down, smirking slightly; it was a good start.
“That’s nice, now let’s start,” the teacher droned on for far too long, he was not really paying attention, he pretended to, and he was listening enough to answer questions when asked, but he knew most of what was being taught.
He was quite smart, he used to like it when he was put in advanced classes, but it’s easier to fit in when you dumb yourself down, so he always did just that.
It was a long day before they broke for lunch, how he wished he could go home.
There were a lot of people, and he promptly decided to sit at a table alone, but it took a whole of two minutes for a kid to ask if he could sit here.
He was smiling, obnoxiously so; his uniform was slightly dirty, and his boots were incredibly so, which told him this kid didn’t come from much.
“If you want,” Dazai replied, an easy smile coming to his face as the kid sat down.
“I’m Osamu Dazai, what’s your name?” Dazai asks, he didn’t particularly care, but he’d rather not people think him a jerk.
“Kenji Miyazawa!” the boy chirped, far too happy for someone who was stuck in school, “you can just call me Kenji, all my friends do!” Kenji smiled more as he took a bite out of an apple.
“So we’re friends then? Why aren’t you with your other friends Kenji?” Dazai asks as he poked his food about; he wasn’t hungry, but if you simply pushed your food around it was easy to fool people in to think you were eating.
“Because you were sitting all alone of course,” Kenji explained, Dazai thought this a rather naive way of thinking, but decided not to comment on this specifically.
“Where do you normally sit?” he asks, glancing around the room as he tried to guess what sort of friends Kenji had.
“Over there!” The freckled boy pointed to a group of people who he couldn’t immediately categorize into a specific group.
There were seven over there in total, three girls, four boys.
A boy he’s seen in his class, who raised his hand for practically every questions asked, was seated over there, he had dirty blond hair and glasses, he was eating his lunch while the others engaged in conversation.
The others consisted of a boy with messy brown hair who’s uniform was messed up in a way that told him he didn’t care much about how he appeared to other people; the type who assumed they were better than everyone else.
A girl with a butterfly hair clip with a neat uniform that spoke of someone upper class.
A boy with bleached hair that was cut messily, as if he’d done it himself, his uniform was torn in a couple places, likely meaning he couldn’t afford to replace it, and or he was often bullied.
There was girl, smaller than the others, she was also sitting quietly while she ate, her eyes down cast, likely used to being on the outside.
There was also a girl and a boy; they seemed to be in a relationship if the way the girls head was rested on the boys shoulder was any indication; it wasn’t quite casual.
“They seem nice,” Dazai comments, he’d sized them up in mere moments, and had then turned his gaze back to Kenji.
“They are!” Kenji agreed.
He spent the rest of lunch in casual discussion with the boy, it was surprisingly nice talking to someone who was so naive, it was clear he didn’t have any ulterior motives; and though that didn’t mean Dazai let down his guard, it did mean he found himself relaxing.
Especially since Kenji didn’t ask about his personal life, no questions about why he’s new, or sitting alone, or who his parents are, or where he used to live, Kenji asked question about whether he liked cats or dogs more; it was fun.
After lunch they had to go back to class, and they parted ways; he hoped he’d get to talk with the boy more.
The afternoon classes were just the same as the morning ones.
After school he was fully ready to go home, when he got stopped by a teacher, Ms… well, he couldn’t remember.
“Excuse me, you’re suppose to sign up for an extracurricular, since you couldn’t at the start of the school year,” it was spoken in a way that told Dazai she did not like him.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.” And didn’t remotely want to.
Still, he let her take him to sign ups, none of them sounded good, or fun, but he went with band; figuring it would be easiest to get out of it.
After signing up he had to make his way over to the club, fantastic.
Opening the door he was it with a large barrage of noise, and quite a few kids; his eyes went to one, a ginger, and ginger he’d recognize anywhere, a kid he’s know for four years, a kid he hadn’t seen since his parents divorce.
Chuuya Nakahara.