Work Text:
Dear Dazai,
This morning, I woke up from a strange dream. I know it’s a peculiar way to start a letter, and I apologize.
I dreamt that I was gazing out upon the ocean. In the dream, the sky was a light gray; the kind of gray that hung low. The sun was up but provided no warmth. The waves were listless and vacant, much like how I felt.
Then you came up beside me. The wind messed with your hair. You said that I should blink. I did.
When I opened my eyes, a violent storm suddenly gathered on the horizon. I could see the distant streaks of rain. The clouds were dark and heavy. The waves became agitated, as if something deep below was stirring.
I woke up before the waves could consume us. I venture to imagine that the dream was influenced by the fact that I had left the window open all night. It felt so real. I smelled the salt and felt the spray of water on my skin. And you were there. It was the first time you were in a dream of mine. I wonder what you were trying to tell me.
I suppose there’s no point in speculating about dreams.
I made myself pancakes this morning. I wanted to try the maple syrup the boss gave me. Not sure why he gifted me syrup. Perhaps the same reason why he gave you cinnamon sticks, to which I also don’t know. The syrup was delicious, nonetheless.
I promised the kids we’d visit the feline adoption center. It’s become far too cold for anyone to have fun outside. At least, that’s my opinion. The kids have told me about how they go and play in the mountains in temperatures just below 12 degrees celsius. I suppose this means I’m getting old.
As you know, I have no desire to buy a car. Yokohama’s bus system has served me well. I must admit, though, when I travel with the kids, I can’t help but imagine how convenient a car would be. It gets challenging to convince five rambunctious children that sitting still is in their best interest.
The kids had a good time there. We met several friendly kittens. Shinji was a little nervous and stuck by me. Once he gathered enough courage to pet one, it bit him playfully. He interpreted that as a murder attempt and that effectively ruined any chance of him making any feline friends.
At one point I had to take Katsume and Kousuke aside. I reminded them that the cats weren’t stuffed animals. I said that they were ancient spirits who would curse those who mistreat them. They shaped up after that.
I quite enjoyed the cats. One of my dreams is that when I move into an adequate house, I’ll adopt one.
One even took a liking to me enough to sit on my lap. Made me think about the cat at Lupin’s. The cat that always seems to be watching us. None of these cats watched me in the same way.
Leaving was the most difficult thing today. They pleaded for me to adopt one, and it took me all the power I had to say no.
As we waited for the bus, I bought them sweet potatoes from a nearby vendor. They were considerably hot. Sakura ate it too fast. She said she was fine but I’m certain she burned her tongue.
They asked about you, funnily enough. Yuu says that apparently you two still have to do some “battle royale” video game thing together. I told that you were too busy “being mysterious.”
Dropping them off made the chill of the air seem a tad bit unbearable. I made lunch. Pumpkin and mushroom stew, I think. I don’t remember everything I threw in. I wonder what you eat these days. I keep forgetting how young you are. Sometimes I meet seventeen-year-olds who don’t yet know how to rinse rice, and here you are, holding the underworld on your shoulders. I hope you’re eating.
My apartment has a wonderful view of the street. I get to watch as the trees go from vibrant green to dozens of shades of red and orange.
I often feel quite anxious during autumn. It’s the transition period between life and death. Like it’s trying to avoid the inevitable for just a moment longer.
That’s when I saw you walking below my apartment building. You act like you forget I live here, but I’m certain that each time you walk by, it’s on purpose. That’s alright with me. It’s the same reason why I’m always looking out my window so much - in case I might see you.
I’m still not sure why you rejected my invitation to have lunch. You said it was because you were in the middle of a religious fast. It amused me how blatant of a lie that was.
I’m glad you let me join you on your walk. It was funny when you pointed at the trees and said it looked like my hair. I hear that quite a lot, but the way you said it perplexed me. You said, “The leaves look ridiculously soggy today. It kinda looks like your hair.” I’m not sure if the ‘soggy’ comment was supposed to be directly related to my hair or if they were two entirely separate thoughts.
Those crows that were following us gave me the impression that they were waiting for us to drop dead so they could scavenge our bodies for treasure and food. Then I realized they were following us because you had an entire loaf of bread in your coat. You pulled it out like it was nothing. Completely normal.
I enjoyed feeding the crows with you. It was interesting when you mentioned that you hate autumn. You said you felt like the season was mocking you. I remember you saying that about spring. And summer. Winter too. For autumn, specifically, you commented that you think it’s ridiculous how people could find joy in a season of decay. You said that with a smile on your face, so I’m still not sure if you were sincere or not.
I had the feeling I was overstaying my welcome, but when you bought me that cinnamon roll at the stand, I figured my company was appreciated. I sometimes really dread going home. Days off are the hardest. When you complain about getting called in on your time off, I never know what to say. You’d probably call me a workaholic for thinking this, but sometimes I wish I didn’t have days off at all. They only remind me of how little I have outside of work. How incapable I will ever be to lead a normal life.
The cinnamon roll was really good. I realize I forgot to express my appreciation at the time.
You asked me what I thought of Ango. You always ask me that, and my answer hasn’t changed. I like him. I’m trying to figure out what you want me to say, because you always seem dissatisfied with my answer. I remember that you leaned closer, saying that if he knew you told anyone this, he’d kill you. But just before you told me the secret, the devil himself showed up.
I could tell he didn’t expect to see us. When he asked what we might be discussing, you wore the face of a kid who got caught trying to throw a baseball through a window. I nearly laughed. It’s instances like these that remind me you’re supposed to be a kid.
When Ango said he was coming back from the post office, I suddenly recognized why you keep asking me what I think of him. His words, his look, and the way the sun glinted off his glasses made me feel uncertain for a brief moment. Even after reflecting on it, I can’t exactly place my finger on it.
I’m glad he invited us to get coffee with him. It’s been far too long since we’ve gotten to sit down and talk together like that. Not like I have much to say. Both of you look at me with the eyes of expectancy, as if one day I’ll present to you the most grand story of how the janitor of the Port Mafia changed the world. You both always have compelling stories. Even just today you told us about how you killed 20 men before you ate breakfast yesterday and how Ango avoided 20 assassination attempts in one weekend.
I don’t want to sound like the spoiler of fun, but whenever we get together, it’s like something’s missing. Not like something has been forgotten, but that something used to be here, and it’s since left.
Nevertheless, I cherish every moment we have together.
When you eventually left, Ango shifted in his seat and fell quiet. He said he was glad it was autumn. When I asked why, he said that it was like a breath of fresh air after the oppressive heat of summer. I suppose that’s another way to look at it, isn’t it?
The two of us took our coffee and walked by the harbor. The ocean was a beautiful shade of teal. We talked more about the goings on of the Port Mafia. He also asked me about my desires to write a novel, to which I was surprised he even remembered. It brings me comfort to know he listens to me. I felt like somewhat of a failure when he asked. I haven’t started it.
He asked if I’d given up on happy endings. I told him that I hold out hope. He gave me a smile. The kind of smile that makes one feel warm even as the cold wind bites. So, Dazai, to answer your question, I still like Ango. I don’t think that will change.
He said he had a meeting to attend so we parted ways. It was getting late.
Correction; it was five, but for an old person like me, that’s late.
Considering the difficult decisions I’ve made in the past, the hours of planning and deliberation that goes into this line of work, the most difficult dilemma I’ve had to resolve is “what should I eat for dinner”. Fortunately, today wasn’t too much of an issue because I still had leftover soup.
I suppose in an act of avoiding the inevitable, which in this case was returning to the apartment, I walked into a clothing store. I saw a double-breasted coat that looked exactly like the one Ango wears most often. It was the same fabric, color, and even the logo design on the buttons were the same. Strange, because I remember Ango saying he got his coat at a very high-end store in Venice. I was quite surprised to see it here in a humble coastal shop costing just 1200 yen.
I decided against buying it, but I knew that if you were with me you’d have bought it in a flash. Just to annoy Ango. Maybe I’ll bring you there sometime.
I didn’t really do much after that. I ate dinner and stayed up quite late reading a book that the boss gave to me. He said that it’s been in his personal library for years and that he’s never read it. When he gave it to me he said that a tragic person like me would enjoy it. I’m not sure what he meant by that. Although, it is quite funny to see the doodles the boss’s little girl did in it. I suppose that’s one way to annotate a book.
When night comes, the ocean often disappears into the dark sky. As I look out my window, the only indication that it’s still there is the moonlight reflecting off of it. I can only see a bit of the ocean when I look out, anyways. I just have to trust that it’s still there. It’s really quiet outside. If I close my eyes and lean out my window, I can just barely hear the waves.
It’s 11:11 pm now. I wonder if you’ll show up in my dream again, and maybe your cryptic message will make sense.
I’ll see you at work tomorrow.
-Oda