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Rei
I once said I wanted to be dead.
And I always got what I wanted.
Ichi
The perfect suicide. That is what I aspire to. A painless and quick death that wouldn’t inconvenience anyone. Isn’t it strange? That wouldn’t inconvenience anyone. Somehow, I always inconvenience someone. I should hurry up and die already.
At the door of the Armed Detective Agency was Dazai Osamu, pondering in thoughts of suicide that no one dared talk him out of. Such was the derangement of the man.
Upon his arrival at the agency, he was yet again received by the anger of Kunikida Doppo due to his tardiness.
As a usual day should go, he sat down at his office, and didn’t move a finger, while everyone else went about their business. At some point, he decided to take a lunch break, to which Kunikida objected. Again Dazai found himself in the streets of Yokohama, the intention of having lunch not on his mind. Walking near a river, he watched the way the water created beautiful swirls, and admired the gentle current.
He thought shortly of attempting to drown in the waters, just to discard the idea out of pure laziness. There was a gentle breeze that day, and his long sand-coloured trench coat floated a bit behind him. It painted a beautiful yet sad picture, that of the man standing next to the river.
He walked back to the agency, working more definitely not on his mind, when he encountered a man he wished not to see.
The man short as can be angered and shouted at him, yet Dazai found himself unable to feel a thing. What a blessing and a curse it was, the power of nullification. Not only did it nullify abilities, it erased feelings as well. The calculating part of his mind preached there was no logic in this, yet it was much simpler and easier to think this, as for any other thought would make him sink even deeper into depression.
Only when he was close to death was when he felt alive. As messed up as that should sound, it made perfect sense in the mind of the bandaged man.
Leaving behind the incident with the ginger, Dazai’s walk was peaceful and uneventful. Nothing had piqued his interest, as usual, so he had nothing to do nor think about when he returned to the agency.
It was much a waste of time, he would say, if anyone had asked. Deciding that at least something he must do, he filled out a couple of papers. Not after long, he deemed it a boring job, and gave up. He carefully watched everyone in the agency while appearing laid back and relaxed. Not few were the complaints he received, yet he couldn’t muster up the energy to care.
He usually did wonder why the agency even bothered to employ him, taking note that the amount of work he fulfilled was minimal. He already knew the answer, though, as he was aware he was the second smartest person in the agency, and very much needed in order to solve various crimes when Ranpo Edogawa was busy. Despite this, it was not seldom he asked himself if he was really needed in the agency.
He remembered how the Port Mafia had not been that much affected by the fact that he defected. In fact, Dazai did notice Akutagawa Ryuunosuke and Nakahara Chuuya’s activities increasing and better when he left. It had been a change for the better
He was reminded of how superfluous he was. And if not superfluous, he always added fuel to the fire, worsening everything he tried to protect.
He was truly a deranged man.
Ni
The sun came out a second day, and Dazai woke up with it. Today was a bad day, therefore he didn’t think for an instant to leave his bed.
Staring at the ceiling of the apartment, he lay there for hours, until a knock was heard on the door. Mustering up the energy to do so, Dazai slowly stood up and walked to the door.
Nakajima Atsushi looked back at him with a concerned look. He seemed to have come there to check on Dazai, but the latter tried to shoo him away. Atsushi, sensing that it wasn’t the right time, so he left, with a message to Kunikida explaining Dazai wasn’t feeling quite well.
Now that Dazai had already got up, he did not feel like going back to bed, so he got dressed. Ignoring the roars of his stomach, he left the apartment, and went for a walk.
Walks were most likely one of Dazai’s favourite hobbies after suicide. Going on a walk was strangely calming, and instead of thinking about everything he thought of nothing. But nothing was good entirely. As much as Dazai liked walks, he was terrified of them as well.
Terrified that one day the peace that they brought would be blown away by the wind, and he fell in a spiral of thought once again. Also, the fear of killing himself. You would think that a suicidal man such as himself would not be scared of killing himself, and Dazai was no exception. It was the thought of dying without being able to say goodbye that truly terrified him. This is the reason he did not take his phone with him on walks, and he convinced Fukuzawa Yukichi, president of the Armed Detective Agency, to not make him take weapons with him.
Goodbye, to who? Dazai was not really sure.
But despite this, it was only when he was in a walk he found peace, and only in a walk he was terrified of dying without a goodbye.
It rained that day. Lightly, but still enough to get you wet. Dazai didn’t mind the rain. In fact, it well reflected the mood he found himself in. It was autumn, and some leaves still clinged to the trees, otherwise naked.
What a beautiful day, thought the man who suffered depression. The narrator agreed, for they preferred days like this.
It was October, so it was already cold, but Dazai wore nothing else than his thin trench coat, he is most likely to catch a cold. Following wherever his feet took him, he ended at the door of a bar he knew too well, and seeking refuge from the rain and wind, he came inside.
Jazz music played, as always, and there was no one inside the Lupin bar except the bartender. Dazai requested his usual drink, which the bartender didn’t waste time in preparing.
He spent the rest of the day drinking just until he was drunk. Then, he decided to leave the place, as it was time to sleep. Even though he would be late to the agency the following day, that still didn’t mean he didn’t have to go to work.
Arriving at his apartment, he let himself fall on to the bed and a single tear fell from his eye.
What a sad 26th of October.
San
What is depression? feelings of severe despondency and dejection.
Dazai could neither confirm nor deny he suffered from depression. He was not a psychologist, so he didn’t have the right to diagnose himself with depression. Even though it would most likely make his life a little bit better. More reason for him to believe that he actually doesn't have it.
Well, maybe having depression was not so great. Dazai was aware that there were pills he would be obliged to consume, and he honestly rather not. Pills were a way to commit suicide, although not very trustworthy, as Dazai had overdosed before in an attempt to kill himself, just to later wake up in terrible pain. If possible, he wished it never occurred again.
Then again, having pills reminded him of Mori Ougai, a doctor that used to take care of him in the Port Mafia. Those were memories he preferred to stay forgotten. Even now there were times he’d be afraid of Yosano Akiko, reminded of such experiences. He had to remind himself that Yosano was not Mori, and he’d later feel very ashamed of ever thinking that they were similar in any way.
The train of thought took him to Chuuya. He wondered whatever was the reason behind his utmost loyalty to Mori. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was actually a little worried about the slug, but he knew the man short as can be despised Dazai.
He was shaken awake by Miyazawa Kenji. He had fallen asleep. Only half awake he listened to Kunikida’s complaints, and then he was sent on a job.
Izumi Kyouka and Atsushi went with Dazai. They were there to learn how to solve crimes on their own, seeing that despite all they had already gone through, they were still newbies.
It was sad, thought Dazai, kids at such a young age being forced to take part in such horrible events as kidnaps and murders. Upon arriving at the crime scene, they encountered much blood that had yet to be cleaned. Even though he didn’t say anything, Dazai could tell Atsushi was a little pale.
He knew Kyouka wouldn’t show any special reaction to seeing the blood, yet he felt uneasy. She used to be an assassin in the Port Mafia, and clearly there were remains of her training. The way she walked, the way she talked, even the way she breathed were careful and precise. Only a skilled assassin could ever accomplish such mastery at stealth. And Kyouka had managed so in the only six months she had spent with the mafia.
Truly sad, thought Dazai.
Yon
It was because of Chuuya that he got into poetry. Well, not really into it, but he could at least tell between good and mediocre poetry. He had once heard poetry was a way to cope. Maybe that’s why Chuuya always wrote poems. Dazai would never cease to admire how human the ginger could be, despite he himself believing he wasn’t. Despite the adversities that life had thrown at him, Chuuya did not want to kill himself.
It was amazing. He rivaled the heroes in books and fairy tales. Dazai remembered he loved to read those. Not because of the plot, he would figure everything out in mere minutes, but the characters. How they so desperately wanted to live, how they never gave up. Dazai could never understand this, and that’s what made it so interesting.
Sometimes, he found himself wanting to become one of these characters that never gave up. He’d give up on the idea not after long, deeming it impossible for someone like him.
Despite what the books said, it was too late for him to change. He didn’t know how to live otherwise. And anyway, it’s not as if anyone had ever bothered in talking him out of suicide. Dazai knew that all of them knew that it was too late for him.
Yet Dazai was surprised several times, because he sensed that some of the people he knew didn’t want him to die. They were fleeting moments, after some particular nasty joke about killing himself, he sensed the other person was uneasy. At first, Dazai thought it was out of disgust, for someone like him thinking he deserved to kill himself, but later on, he found out that this was not quite true.
If Dazai didn’t know any better, he’d think they flinched out of worry, but he knew better. It was most likely out of pity. Dazai would have continued to think that way, if not for Atsushi. Once, after a very nasty suicide joke, he’d actually told Dazai he’d prefer if he didn’t kill himself. At that moment Dazai had frozen, his eyes widening, but he let a smile fall onto his face, his mask slipping on, and he’d swiftly change the subject.
Go
No Longer Human was the name of the ability that Dazai had been gifted, or cursed with.
This ability permitted him to nullify the abilities of other ability-users. If he’d have to say, to the Armed Detective Agency, this was an important ability, that helped very much. He’d say that it was one of the most useful abilities there was in this world, next to Chuuya’s Upon The Tainted Sorrow. In fact, both of the abilities seemed to compliment each other, since the form of Arahabaki could be used by Chuuya, but only stopped by Dazai’s ability.
It was quite romantic, if you think about it, but Dazai declined this way of thinking. He knew that Mori was of the same opinion, and he refused to agree with such a man. Then again, it was also Dazai the one who was attempting to recreate Soukoku (Double Black) with Atsushi and Akutagawa.
Soukoku. It was a very powerful duo indeed, that had wiped out entire organizations in single nights, and therefore made the Port Mafia become the important criminal organization in Yokohama.
Thinking back, maybe the reason Dazai had felt guilty for Oda Sakunosuke’s death would be the knowledge that if he and Chuuya had collaborated then to take out Mimic, Odasaku wouldn’t have had to die. Then again, Dazai remembered the heartbroken Odasaku had been after the kids had died.
And Dazai really didn’t want Odasaku to want to kill himself. Even if he was quick to ask any woman if they wanted to commit a double suicide with him, he could not bring himself to the thought of Odasaku wanting to die. It was pure egoism, the way he thought. Of how he thought that only he could commit suicide, and not his friends. Because Odasaku was Dazai’s friend.
But that’s right. The reason he could kill himself was because no one truly cared about him. No one was his friend. No one was Odasaku.
Roku
Which way is the ideal way to die?
Dazai had asked himself this question more times than he could count. He had come to the conclusion that the best way to die was jumping off a tall building or cliff. He wished to experience what flying felt. He wanted to experience what Chuuya felt when using his ability.
He’d imagine jumping, and finally being free. That the seconds before he hit the ground would be full of bliss, knowing that he didn’t have to worry about anything anymore.
He stood at the rooftop of the Port Mafia building. The wind was blowing strong up there, and the orange lighting of dusk shone on his face. Because of the wind, his trench coat floated behind him.
He stood at the ledge, the front part of his shoes just over the edge.
Who do I want to say goodbye to?
He took out his phone. He searched for a name on the search bar. He typed a message.
He carefully took off his trench coat and placed it on the floor, far from the ledge. He placed the phone on it.
Dazai closed his eyes.
And he smiled.
I always wanted to die.
And I always got what I wanted.
The setting sun was the only one who heard the words of a man who was no longer human.
Nana
Dazai’s phone was still on when Chuuya came to the roof of the Port Mafia building.
It was opened on a message sent to someone by the name chibi.
It read Goodbye.
The man short as can be took off his coat, and instead pulled the sand-coloured trench coat on.
A single tear fell onto the rooftop.