Chapter Text
Osamu Dazai stormed around his stay, each step resonating with the hard metal of the shipping container, producing echo in the cold atmosphere. His mind was blurred by something he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t sadness, nor anger, just something deep inside, suffocating him. Ignoring his trembling hands and blurred mind Osamu took everything he could think of at the moment with the energy of a mad man. He couldn’t bear staying a second more in Yokohama, he needed to leave, now.
Oda is dead. He’s dead and he will never come back. Dazai saw him die, he held Sakunoske when he took his last breaths, he was the one that received the last wish of the man, and he just… couldn’t process it yet. It wasn’t fair, the one that was going to die first was Dazai, not Oda. Oda Sakunoske was supposed to live a prosperous life; he was going to be a successful writer and a father, a free man, not dead. That night not just Oda died, because Dazai felt like he died with him that night too. Still Odasaku’s last words kept recapping in his mind, over and over again. ‘Become a good man’. Osamu Dazai converting into good? It sounded demented, and still the port mafia executive thought about it, Odasaku died wishing for Dazai to leave the mafia and ignoring his desires felt wrong.
His decision on leaving Yokohama could have been biased on Oda’s wish but even so he felt that he needed to leave. The thought of seeing Mori the next day made him tremble in anger, he was just unable to do it. So it wasn’t just for Sakunoske, it was for himself too. He wanted to see it that way.
It was a gloomy night, with the clock hitting past midnight the avenue felt dead, the road was wet and slippery, and a cold breeze hit Dazai as he walked through the streets. He carried a small backpack with nothing much rather than some clothes and bandages, cash, and whatever he needed to leave the country. He wandered along the sidewalk under the artificial lights, his gait and bearing resembling that of a man in a feverish agitation. After a few minutes he found himself in an airport.
“Which is the earliest flight?” he said hastily, leaning on the counter.
The lady, startled by her sudden company, stared at him up and down, inspecting who she had in front. The man (who barely looked like one and resembled a tall child) looked absolutely miserable, that’s the first thing she noticed. Big soulless eyes with deep dark circles on his pale and dehydrated skin, bandages covering his body almost entirely, and his long thin body giving clear signs of malnourishment. The only thing that didn’t fit his appearance were his clothes, which looked perfectly tailored to his figure; black suit pants, white shirt and a long dark coat making him resemble a shadow, his work attire.
The lady could have called security the moment he appeared, because he was clearly escaping from something, but Dazai’s appearance was enough to cause her pity, so she let him go this time.
“Well… St. Petersburg, Russia, is the earliest. I have a seat left in economy if that works for you sir” she offered, trying to recover her polite smile.
“Yes, I want it” Dazai said, with a concerning numbness in his manners. From the bag he took the money and a passport, a fake one, with one of his hundreds of aliases. Even so she didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ts settled sir, the flight arrives in half an hour, make sure you are at the gate fifteen minutes earlier.”
Dazai left Yokohama that night. It was risky, he knew that. Mori was not going to be happy about his disappearance, oh dear, he was going to turn Yokohama upside down just to find him. Nevertheless he wasn’t too worried, yes, he was a traitor to the Mafia now, but he was good at playing hide and seek, they wouldn’t find him; and if he ever returned to Japan, Osamu knew for sure that he was not going to be killed, Mori was not stupid enough.
Dazai looked out the airplane window, watching it take off, and slowly reaching the sky. The sun was rising, it was a matter of time until the news of his disappearance spread out, but he didn’t want to think about that, he wanted to be positive even if he felt like throwing himself from the plane, he was going to be fine. With that thought in mind he allowed himself to relax into the seat and closed his eyes, no matter what happened he was going to figure it out.
The flight took a good amount of hours to land, time that he killed by sleeping what he didn’t do in days.
Russian land was beautifully white from the faint snow falling from the sky, which covered Osamu’s frame; the cold was chilling, making him tremble slightly. The streets were full of gorgeous classical European architecture and the people wore elegant and visibly warm clothing. He felt like an outsider the more he walked around, people noticed him; his appearance and lack of winter attire made him stand out more than what he liked. Quickly the cold started to be insufferable making him tremble more aggressively, he was a japanese boy, he wasn’t prepared for Russian winters, much less in such an spontaneous decision.
After a few minutes of walking he found a small cafe where he could shelter from the cold. Inside was a dim light, a strong smell of caffeine and quiet laughter and shushed conversations that covered the place in a cozy atmosphere. His presence once again catched the attention of the customers but as fast as they noticed their interest was lost. Dazai settled himself in a small table at the back, he ordered himself a black coffee, the strong bitter taste warmed him almost instantly, calming his nerves. He stayed there a few hours trying to figure out what he was going to do now, he needed a place to stay, the idea of staying in the streets with that infernal cold was tempting but not ideal.
In his dissociative state he hadn't noticed how a woman approached his table, by the time Dazai realized the woman was already in front of him, eyeing his appearance with deep scrutiny.
“Can I help you?” Dazai said in perfect Russian, visibly surprising the mysterious woman.
“Wasn’t expecting you to speak Russian young man.” She said with a giggle. “May I sit?”
Without waiting for an answer she was already sitting down and calling the waiter to order. Osamu looked at her with a furrowed brow, sipping his coffee as he waited for her to settle down. The woman carried herself with grace; wearing a long, closed, wine red coat with furry sleeve ends and a puffy collar of the same soft material, she wore long, brown, heel boots and a small brown purse on her shoulder. She wore her hair short and meticulously styled with blonde and subtle curls, and her makeup was simple and elegant with her red vibrant lips being the star of the show.
“Adelaida Prokofievna, a pleasure.” With a smile she offered a handshake that Dazai accepted.
“Osamu Dazai”
“You are Japanese then. What is a Japanese kid doing so far from home? “ Adelaida said, tilting her head. “Something tells me you are not just visiting, are you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” He inquired, uncomfortable by the question. Dazai could sense that she was perceptive, her gaze was the one that you see when someone is calculating every move and doesn’t want to give it out, he knew because that was the same gaze he carried.
Adelaida laughed at his response, “Don’t worry, I won’t question you dear, you have just given me the answer.”
After that they fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence. Adelaida grabbed a folded newspaper from her purse and started reading while humming softly.
“Can I check that?” Dazai asked, when something in the bottom of the paper picked his curiosity.
She stared at him with strangeness but agreed, she landed him the paper and watched how he grabbed it with no care at all. Dazai clutched the paper and read fast.
Chest tournament, Thursday 2 pm, price: 900 rubles per person. Prizes: First place 5000 rubles, Second place 3000 rubles, Third place 1000 rubles.
“Are you interested in the tournament?” Adelaida asked when she noticed what caught her companions attention.
“Yes.” He answered without paying much notice.
“If that’s the case I could take you, I will be there as well.” She said with a smile.
“You are competing?” Finally he looked at her, confusion visible.
“Yes, of course. Is that a surprise?” She said with a furrowed brow.
“I thought they didn’t let women compete, at least here in Russia.”
“There isn’t a rule that says that women can’t compete, yes, they don’t like to see me in the tournaments but they got used to it.”
“So it’s not your first?”
“No. I’m quite the celebrity here, dear, you must read the news more.” Adelaida said with a proud gesture.
“That’s why you carry yourself with such arrogance then?” Dazai said with a scoff. She laughed at his rude comment and let it be.
“Do you want me to take you or not?”
“Yes.”
“You better be good then, I’m not taking a dead loss with me.” Adelaida leaned on the table with defiance in her voice.
“Oh, don't you worry.” He answered, giving her a smirk, the first smile he gave in days.