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Several pairs of footsteps trailed behind them in the snow, making the sound of muffled dead leaves crunch beneath their feet. Everything was coated in a fragile layer of snow that seemed as if it would crack like ice if anyone breathed too hard. The Ministry of Civil Affairs requested to have the Armed Detective Agency themselves working on a specialized case. But for some reason, it had required all of them to be present. The case itself had seemed normal at first, but they had greatly underestimated the scope of the criminal's base of operations. Instead of having a singular building the group had over twenty-five separate underground retreats. Tracking them all down was a pain, infiltrating them all was even worse. They walked back in a tired silence, even Kunikida seemed pretty out of it.
The weather was the same as it had been for at least the last few weeks. It was depressing, to say the least, but Atsushi held a strange sort of fascination with the crystallized teardrops of ice hanging from branches, reaching for better days. Kyouka’s mitted hand felt particularly small in the silence of the cold. It was gentle for once, almost the world had gifted them a moment of peace for their efforts. His eyes moved from person to person, scanning everyone for injuries. Dazai had a slight limp that was quite poorly concealed for someone as secretive as him, Kunikida roughed up his ribs a bit with a bad landing earlier, and finally Tanizaki’s left shoulder had a painful-looking gash on it that Yosano had bandaged earlier. Atsushi was mostly just glad that everyone seemed to be mostly alright. Reversible damage had become a comfort as of late. The clouds over his head formed a sort of frothy looking ocean landscape and he breathed in the crisp winter air.
“It’s snowing.” A voice said gently. Several heads turned to the man who had broken the silence, Dazai stared back at them almost blankly.
“Did I say something wrong?” He chuckled.
“No. You just sound oddly normal for once.” Yosano remarked with a teasing lilt. At this point they had all stopped walking to take in the snow that was now falling thickly.
Dazai looked at them seriously, a small smile found its way across his face before practically exploding into a grin.
“Have I been stripped of my rights of freedom of speech now? Ah, what a shame. And here I thought we had left discrimination in the past.”
Ranpo snickered and Kunikida took a deep breath in like he was trying to contain himself.
As dazai and Kunikida began a round of retorts and sarcasm, Atsushi watched with an emotion he couldn’t quite name sweltering in his chest. He watched as Kunikida facepalmed and Dazai’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. And when he smiled, it was like the moon had lent them all half a heart to witness it. Tanizaki added something teasingly which made Kyouka laugh audibly, a deep, light sound that never failed to comfort him.
Dazai looked really different in the snow. It made his skin seem paler and his hair tousled by the wind framed his face perfectly. A red scarf wrapped around his neck completed the look. His trench coat had been swapped out for a long white coat. Doctor Yosano also stood out to him, with a cream coloured knitted sweater and a deep black skirt that fanned out behind her when she walked. Ranpo’s earmuffs made him look around the same age as Atsushi, which was sort of unnerving but also impressive. He thinks the shock factor of the detective’s real age was something that would never fully wear off. Kunikida looked graceful as ever with a gray coat and Kyouka sported a dress and a light pink jacket Naomi had gifted her during her first winter with the agency.
Atsushi watched as his co-workers joked around, tossing the conversation from one to another easily, and he wondered where he fit in with them. And just as he wondered, Dazai broke him out of it with a glance in his direction and a smooth, practiced smile that made his skin crawl. It was a nice expression, but somehow, Atsushi felt that it held no weight of an actual smile. The problem wasn’t with the smile, his cheeks were flushed from the cold and his demeanor was kind and welcoming, it was his eyes, Atsushi realised belatedly. Dazai’s eyes held not a glimmer of the warmth he presented. They were these cold, empty things upon his face.
And without even realising it, Atsushi spoke.
“Dazai?” He called out, letting out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding in.
“Mhm?” The brunet smiled again, same emptiness, different angle.
Atsushi breathed in and then out, sensing as the others’ eyes focused on him. He wasn’t normally this anxious– well, he used to be– but he hadn’t been for such a long time that the sentiment had become foreign to him again.
“Is something wrong?”
And just like that, Dazai’s smile dropped entirely. The difference was so drastic that he almost allowed himself to shudder. But just like that, the expression was gone again, just as quickly as it had come.
“Do you know where we are right now?” Dazai asked with something akin to nostalgia clouding his eyes.
Atsushi simply stood there without knowing what to say. What could he say? What was the significance of a question like that?
“No, I don’t.” He answered cautiously. The snow fell on his eyelashes and blended in almost naturally with the pale colour of them. Atsushi looked as if he were born of snow, melting beautifully with time.
“Why don’t we take a detour?” Dazai said, only half-answering the young man’s question.
“Sounds fun.” Kenji smiled, watching the skyline.
“Not like I have anything better to do. This better be interesting, Dazai.” Ranpo sighed, opening his emerald eyes only a slimmer.
The others agreed easily, (besides Kunikida, who sighed reluctantly and muttered something about ‘emotionally incompetent brunet men’) and they set off into the evening.
The group passed a pastry shop with strawberry delights tempting them from the window and Kyouka was practically drooling at the display cakes, trying her best to conceal her obvious staring. Atsushi sighed and noted down the address in his phone for her.
“That looks great, huh? I’m so hungry I could eat a tiger.” Yosano sighed theatrically. Atsushi felt his heart rate spike in his chest as he chuckled nervously.
“Doctors are terrifying.” The platinum-haired boy muttered.
“Tell me about it...” Dazai added with a grimace.
“I don’t know, I’ve always been more afraid of dentists.” Ranpo stated, sucking a lollipop.
“I think you’re just scared of having to pay for dental fillings.” Kyouka deadpanned, earning a laugh from Yosano and a snicker from Dazai.
“With that much sugar I think you’ll be needing much more than cavity treatment.” Tanizaki sighed.
“Whatever. You’re all just jealous.” Ranpo scoffed, turning his head away from them.
“There’s really not much to be jealous of.” Dazai smirked.
“No offense, Dazai. You really can’t be talking here.” Atsushi stated. Dazai gasped, slinging an arm over the younger boy’s shoulders.
“How rude… my own son has betrayed me.” The brunet cried, closing his eyes pitifully.
Atsushi felt his entire face flush with embarrassment.
“What?! I’m not your son!” He retorted, trying to shake the man off him.
“Atsushi, denial is the first step to acceptance.” Dazai said with an expression of pure blankness.
“Someone tell Dazai that I’m not his son!”
“You kinda are, though.” Kunikida muttered under his breath. Yosano nodded in full agreement and Kenji and Kyouka continued throwing handfuls of snow at each other.
Atsushi groaned.
Just then, Dazai stopped walking and turned to face them all equally.
“We’re here!”
And it felt like in the moment the entire world quieted for a moment while the collective realisation dawned on them that the iron gates in front of them were those of a graveyard. Atsushi caught Kunikida’s face soften immediately and Kyouka’s shoulder visibly tense.
Dazai led the way as they walked in a respectful silence through the rows of headstones. He stopped near the edge of the land, to one almost hidden under the shade of an ice-glistening tree. Atsushi had been here before, he realised, before the Tatsuhiko Shibusawa incident.
Dazai kneeled on the snow and closed his eyes in a silent prayer that the others copied before turning back to them with a small nostalgic smile.
“Four years ago on this day, I lost my best friend.”
Never had Dazai considered Oda to be his best friend. Their relationship was something closer than that, it was a level of platonic love that was unattainable for most people to ever experience during one lifetime. He only wished it could’ve lasted.
His friends stayed quiet, listening. They knew Dazai, no words of sympathy would be of any comfort to him.
“Who was he?” Kyouka asked quietly. Her eyes blinking up at him with a dullness that was familiar.
Dazai let out a breath and turned towards the frozen water overlooking the gravesite, breathing in the faint scent of salt and letting it run through his hair and mingle on his clothes. When he spoke, he did so solemnly, but with the face of someone who had endured and had never stopped enduring.
“He was a writer, and he had auburn hair and blue eyes that looked like the ocean. He was twenty-three years old when he died. We used to go out drinking together, the first time I met him he saved my life.”
Atsushi quieted at the mention of his age. It wasn’t fair. Why did young people have to keep on dying? Why was an education too much to ask for people like them, why couldn’t it be like a fairytale where everyone is happy in the end. Why was it that nobody around him was happy? Atsushi himself was only beginning to become happy. He supposes that happiness is subjective to dogs. This man that Atsushi didn’t even know had an entire life that played out in his mentor’s mind, over and over again. To the very last detail and soon enough he won’t even remember. Soon enough, even Dazai will forget what this man looked like, and he will become the fairytale that the loose ends are left untied for. And people will cry, but not for this man.
Atsushi regretted it, never being able to meet the reason that the kindest man he’d ever met was still alive.
(Ironic, isn’t it? The kindest man Dazai had ever met was Oda, and the kindest man Atsushi had ever met was Dazai. Perhaps murderers truly did have the gentlest hands.)
“He smoked a lot, the scent of cigarettes is something of a comfort to me now. He took care of children, five of them. They passed away as well.”
“That’s terrible.” Kenji mumbled, unknowing what to say. Real tragedy comes in the form of a lonely body and a dead mind. Kyouka put a hand on his shoulder steadily, though her eyes were watering as well. The children are often forced to grow up too quickly.
“Everyone he cared about was ruined and then his love ruined himself.” Dazai scoffed, but the gesture was entirely lacking in malice. He turned his head away from them, obscuring his expression from their view with his hair and the wind.
“I don’t think love ruins people, I think it builds them up until they fall over.” Ranpo said, eyes open and searching for truth in Dazai’s obscured face.
Are people destined to fall over one day? Will we all die? Atsushi asked himself. It was a stupid question though, so it never reached his lips.
“Love turns people into killers and then killers back into people.” Dazai replied, the edges of a smile painted into his voice.
“Am I not a killer though?” Kyouka asked timidly, pushing the snow around her shoes.
Dazai laughed quietly, almost as if the question was absurd. Yosano could appreciate that much.
“No, Kyouka. You’re a child whose mind was bent into the vague shape of a murderer.” He answered with a surprising certainty, like he had thought of the question countless times before. Atsushi wouldn’t be surprised if he had.
The snow became suddenly more noticeable than it had been already, clinging to coats and lashes, muting the city and narrowing vision to only what was ahead. Looking back had always meant failure, hadn’t it? When had it first became a crime to reflect? Dazai turned away from the grave first, shoulders light in the way people look when they’re pretending not to carry anything at all.
Atsushi followed the man without thinking. They walked for several steps before Atsushi realized something, Dazai wasn’t smiling. He was simply walking, eyes forward, breath steady, as if that alone required concentration.
“You would’ve liked him,” Dazai said, without turning around. And somehow they all knew who he was talking to. Atsushi trained his gaze on his mentor’s receding frame.
“He also believed in saving people who didn’t deserve it.”
The words landed somewhere deep and awful and warm all at once and Dazai continued walking.