Chapter Text
__________________________-1-_____________________________
Music played softly in his ears, and the suicide manual covered his face. Dazai lay on the couch in the detective agency office, pretending to sleep. The workday would soon be over and everyone would go home. Perhaps Yosano would invite him out for a drink, and Dazai would politely decline, citing non-existent business. Ranpo would look at him disapprovingly and offer to walk him home, which he would also decline. So, Osamu would have to walk with Atsushi all the way to his apartment, while the tiger boy would glance nervously at him. Kunikida would keep an eye on him the next morning, and the director would invite him for tea.
This was exactly the scenario that had been unfolding for the past few days. And Dazai sincerely wanted to avoid a repeat of it. All this was tiring; their uneasiness had been pleasant at first, but now it was only irritating.
The employees quietly passed by Dazai sprawled on the couch, not wanting to wake him. This was quite uncharacteristic of them. Normally, Kunikida would have thrown a stack of papers at him and yelled, Ranpo would have jumped up next to him, and Chinazaki wouldn't have even tried to remain quiet.
However, lately, tension had been in the air. Everyone was expecting something. Of course, Dazai knew it had to do with him. That's why he pretended to be asleep, to avoid contact with the others.
It had been a difficult week. Nothing unusual had happened, everything was quiet and calm. The agency was mostly busy with paperwork. This seemed like a good thing. But it unnerved Dazai. Nothing important occupied his thoughts, so unpleasant images and various memories, buried deep in his consciousness, began to appear in his head.
"I know you're awake," — Ranpo's voice sounded right next to his ear. Dazai irritably removed the book from his face and glanced at the lead detective. He was standing by the couch, leaning slightly over him. His gaze made Dazai shudder. It felt like Ranpo could see right through him, it was a very unpleasant feeling.
"I'm resting. It's been a stressful week," — Dazai sighed, still not getting up from the couch. — "You don't have to bother me. I've written so many reports that Kunikida-kun is over the moon."
Ranpo narrowed his eyes slightly and looked away, noticing Dazai's tension.— "Well, since this week has been so stressful, why don't you go home? Maybe we can go to the cafe downstairs and you can treat me; it's Friday after all. Maybe Akiko could even join us."
"You think I don't understand what you're doing? You guys haven't given me a moment's peace for the last week. Why are you so worried?"
"Of course you understand, that's why you should come with us to the cafe and don't make everyone worry even more," — Ranpo rolled his eyes, snatching up the suicide manual and tossing it on the table.
Everyone was waiting for his next attempt. Honestly, Dazai wasn't quite sure what had given him away. But everyone at the agency noticed when his attempts, serious attempts, were getting closer.
Yosano was putting away all the medicine, and someone in the dorm (most likely Atsushi) was starting to hide bleach and other strong chemicals. Kunikida tried to stay close to him. And Ranpo was watching him even more closely than usual.
"Well, since you're so insistent, I can't refuse you," — Dazai smiled wearily and rose from the couch.
__________________________________________________________
The evening went quite well. Ranpo and Yosano argued over something stupid, constantly trying to engage Dazai in conversation. He mostly responded in monosyllables and didn't pay much attention to the conversation.
The café was cozy, with soft jazz music playing and a dim, warm yellow light. There weren't many people there, and those who were were quiet and friendly. The atmosphere was simply wonderful, and yet Dazai felt out of place. He forced a smile and genuinely wanted to show his colleagues that everything was alright, but they kept casting worried glances his way.
Ranpo and Yosano eventually volunteered to walk him to his dorm room. They walked in complete silence down the dimly lit street. The silence wasn't oppressive, though there was a hint of tension.
When they arrived, Ranpo peered urgently into Dazai's face. — "Are you sure you'll be okay?"
"Of course, Ranpo-san doesn't have to worry about me."
__________________________________________________________
Atsushi couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned for hours, trying to find a comfortable position, but to no avail. There was a lingering feeling in his chest. The senior members of the agency were on edge, whispering among themselves about Dazai-san. Atsushi simply couldn't help but worry. Eventually, he decided to take a walk; fresh air always helped him calm down and clear his unwanted thoughts. However, as he passed Dazai's room, Atsushi froze. His instincts told him something was wrong.
Atsushi lightly pressed the doorknob, hoping the door was unlocked. As expected, hopes did not come true.
Perhaps Dazai was simply asleep, and Atsushi was stressing himself out. If he knocked now, he'd likely wake him. Dazai had been very tired lately, so it was probably best not to disturb him. And yet, something was clearly wrong.
Atsushi's sensitive hearing picked up a strange noise.
"Dazai-san? Are you all right?" — the boy called out worriedly.
Atsushi's patience was wearing thin, and a lump of worry formed in his throat, he abruptly pushed the door open.
The flimsy dorm door slammed off its hinges, but Atsushi didn't care. He looked up at the ceiling and let out a sharp cry.
Hanging was far from the most pleasant way to end one's life. Dazai preferred more reliable and painless methods.
He had no idea why he'd chosen this particular one today.
After slipping the makeshift noose around his neck, he carefully jumped off the stool. Dazai tried to do everything slowly, lest the stool fall and wake the others. As the noose tightened around his neck, he felt a sharp pain in his head. His legs felt like they were cramping, and his lungs were burning. His eyes watered, and his mind began racing with thoughts. It was difficult to determine how much time had passed; all he could clearly feel was the pressure of the rope on his neck.
Suddenly, someone grabbed his legs and lifted him up. By then, his head was clouded, and he didn't fully comprehend what was happening. His position shifted from vertical to horizontal, and his lungs suddenly filled with oxygen. The rope was still vaguely felt around his neck.
Screams and heavy footsteps echoed. Dazai was completely oblivious to what was happening. The hands holding his head suddenly disappeared, and Osamu opened his eyes in curiosity just in time to see Kunikida pushing Atsushi behind him.
They were both dressed in pajamas, their hair disheveled from sleep. Dazai felt almost ashamed.
"Hey, Dazai, can you hear me?" — Kunikida frowned and pursed his lips. His warm hand brushed Dazai's bangs, and he peered worriedly into Osamu's pale face. — "Damn, Atsushi, where's Akiko? And get some water."
Dazai stopped listening to the rest of the conversation and closed his eyes. He seemed to vaguely hear two more people running into the room, and someone lifting him from the floor before falling asleep.
___________________________-2-____________________________
It was cold. It felt like ice was coursing through his veins. The glaringly bright white lighting was irritating, so Dazai closed his one open eye. The bandages and clothes on his body were soaked and clung uncomfortably to his skin.
The bathroom was eerily silent, broken only by the occasional sound of drips hitting the floor. The water slightly overflowed the rim of the bathtub whenever Dazai moved. If he had looked at the white tile floor, he would have seen the puddle forming. The water itself had taken on a pinkish-reddish hue, and the color deepened with each passing second.
His head was empty, all sounds were muffled. The only thing Dazai noticed was the searing pain in his forearms. Long, deep cuts ran down both arms, and blood slowly trickled into the pre-filled bathtub.
Dazai felt a strange lightness for the first time in a long time. This month had been stressful. Mori had simply buried him in work, and his job as a port mafia enforcer had become a burden. He was constantly going on missions with Chuuya, and upon returning, writing a dozen reports. There wasn't even time to meet with Ango and Odasaku.
He probably shouldn't have gotten on the mafia boss's nerves, but Dazai simply couldn't help himself. Mori was constantly irritating him, no matter what he said, whether it was for good reason or not, and it all made him angry. Dazai felt like a rebellious teenager, aware that he was often angry without reason, but that didn't stop him. Mori's only response to his antics was to curl his lip and sigh in disappointment. But after a while, he was overwhelmed with work.
But now Dazai felt a doubly tired feeling wash over him. His lips were blue, and his limbs were shaking. The icy water sent shivers down his spine. And yet, in some way, Dazai feels rested. Tomorrow he won't have to go anywhere, won't have to see those annoying faces, won't have to talk to stupid people, won't have to do anything. With these thoughts, he sighs wearily in the empty room, the sound echoing off the tiled walls.
Footsteps disturb his idyll. Someone is clearly approaching the bathroom; Dazai can't remember if he locked the door. Although it's unlikely a closed door would stop an intruder.
"Hey, mackerel, are you there?" — The footsteps grow louder with each passing second, until they stop for a second. — "Why is there water on the floor? Open the door," Dazai winces at Chuuya's voice. The words echo so loudly in his head it hurts.
It seems like not a minute has passed before the door slams off its hinges. — "Oh, God, again?"— Chuuya whispers wearily. Even though Dazai couldn't see his face, he could clearly imagine Nakahara pursing his lips.— "What should I do with you...?"
Chui runs to the bathtub and peers closely at the figure lying in it. He wrinkles his nose and lifts Dazai by the shoulders.— "Hey, hey, don't fall asleep, can you hear me?" Osamu doesn't even bother opening his eyes, merely focusing on the blood slowly leaving his body.
"Damn, you must be completely crazy. You played it safe this time," — Chuuya chuckled humorlessly and lifted Dazai's body from the bathtub. Leaving the cold water, he felt even colder; he wanted to cringe, but he didn't have the strength to even move a finger.
Dazai felt Chuuya wrap something tightly around his forearms. Nakahara muttered something under his breath, apparently including the words "moron" and "suicidal maniac."
At some point, Dazai felt a warm hand cover his forehead and a blanket appear over his frozen body. It was pleasant, much more pleasant than lying on the hard stone tiles, in wet clothes, in a cold bath.
"Dazai, can you look at me?" — Chuuya said unusually softly, a note of concern in his voice that was usually uncharacteristic. — "I need to see your pupils. Have you taken anything?"
Dazai only mumbled something inaudible in response. Fatigue washed over him, and Chuuya's voice seemed to come through thick and fast.
"Damn, you've clearly lost too much blood. Maybe I should call the boss."
Miraculously hearing and comprehending the last sentence, Dazai shook his head as best he could, hoping Chuuya would understand. He definitely didn't want to see Mori right now.
"You don't want to?" — Chuuya said dismissively.— "You should have thought of that earlier. How am I going to justify later that you died from blood loss?"
And yet, Dazai felt his body lift off the floor. Judging by the sensation, he was carried into the bedroom and carefully laid on the bed. His wet clothes were still in the way, but Dazai no longer cared. A gentle hand brushed his bangs away from his face. — "Yeah, you're deathly pale. I should get some blood for a transfusion," Chuuya sighed heavily. —"You're too much trouble."
___________________________-3-____________________________
Dazai sat in a chair in the agency office, ignoring the oppressive silence. He hadn't worked there long, only a couple of months, but he'd already gotten used to it. At first, his annoying coworkers had become pleasant company. Sometimes, he, Kunikida, Yosano, and Ranpo would go out for drinks. They were interesting people, quite unlike the ones who worked in the mafia. Dazai didn't know how to interact with them. But over time, the awkwardness faded, and Osamu even began to like his new colleagues.
A heavy sigh echoed overhead. Kunikida was holding a towel, drying Dazai's wet hair. His partner looked very irritated. Usually, Kunikida got angry when Dazai did something stupid or slacker, but now he was furious.
"You know," — Dazai drawled, finally breaking the silence, — "I can dry my hair myself."
"Shut up and sit still," — Kunikida barked. Ranpo's chuckle drifted out of nowhere, and Dazai instinctively turned toward the sound. The lead detective was sitting cross-legged on the desk, with Yosano standing next to him. Her gaze made Dazai cringe. Honestly, she sometimes made him nervous. Mori's gaze still haunted him in his nightmares, so he wouldn't mistake it for anything else. The agency doctor had that exact same look, the kind that sent shivers down his spine.
This was his second serious suicide attempt since joining the agency. Sure, there had been a couple of minor ones, but they usually didn't bother anyone. The first was two months ago. After that, he couldn't shake the intense gazes that seemed to follow his every move for weeks. Dazai felt deeply uncomfortable. Everyone in the mafia tried to ignore his attempts. Only Chuuya frowned, and Odasaku offered to let him stay the night. Usually, everything returned to normal within a couple of days. The agency staff needed more time. Well, Dazai had hoped they would soon resign themselves to his attempts and stop paying attention (hopefully, it didn't come true).
At some point, they relaxed. Of course, Kunikida abruptly interrupted Dazai's jokes about suicide, Ranpo looked at him as if he could see right through him, and Yosano periodically furrowed her brows in concern at the sight of him. But overall, they let their guard down.
So Dazai didn't fight the urge to jump off the bridge. Unfortunately, there was no beautiful woman nearby, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to look for one. It was quite chilly at this time of year, and it was getting dark. The streetlights hadn't been turned on yet, but the sun had already set.
The water in the river was cold, chilling to the bone. That's why, even sitting in the warm agency office (someone had clearly turned the heating up), Dazai couldn't help but shiver. His wet clothes clung uncomfortably to his body; he wanted to get rid of them all at once. Kunikida continued to methodically rub his hair.
Dazai didn't know what they wanted to hear from him. It had long since grown dark outside; it seemed more than an hour had passed since he jumped off the bridge. Everyone working in the agency building had already gone home. Only the office on the top floor was still lit. Thank goodness, the director had already gone home and didn't know what had happened. Ranpo would probably report to him in the morning, but at least not now. By morning, Dazai would have collected his thoughts and would be able to face Fukuzawa, but right now he was still groggy.
Kunikida finally finished his pointless task and sank onto the sofa. He took off his glasses and tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. Dazai watched him closely from his seat.
"Should I even ask," — Kunikida muttered without looking up, — "why did you do that?"
"Probably just wanted to go for a swim; the weather's lovely today."
"Stop joking around already."
After the failed exchange, silence fell again. Dazai began listening to the noise outside the window, trying to distract himself somehow. It was probably time to go home. Osamu just wanted to get rid of his wet clothes and go to bed. Maybe he'd drink a bottle of Souji before bed.
Distracted by his thoughts, he didn't notice Yosano approaching him.
"I need to examine you," — she said sternly. Her gaze betrayed an emotion Dazai couldn't understand. But right now, he didn't want to delve into the feelings of others.He was struggling. Even though working at the agency was enjoyable, he still felt out of place. Dazai wanted to go for a drink at the Lupin Bar, but he hadn't approached him since Oda's death. He wanted to tease Chuuya, to see him flare up with anger and start arguing furiously. As much as Dazai wanted to deny it, he missed him. He missed Ango, too. The urge to smash his face in and shoot him in the head bordered on the desire to have a drink with him. Dazai liked his new colleagues, but they were strangers; they didn't understand him. Although Yosano clearly knew Mori, it wasn't the same. Ranpo was omniscient, but that didn't ease Dazai's burden. Kunikida was blissfully unaware.
"I'm fine," — Dazai muttered. The altitude wasn't that great.
"Even from this height, you can still get injured," — she gently lifted his head by the chin and held the flashlight to his face. Shining the light into both eyes, she gave a satisfied grunt and, with one last glance at him, released him. — "At least you don't show any signs of a concussion, that's good. But if anything happens, come to me immediately."
"Yes, yes, yes, of course, Yosano-senpai."
She didn't even look at him and went into her medical office. Although it was already night. It would have been more logical to go home, but apparently she was just trying to hide.
Dazai finally glanced at the silent Ranpo. He was paler than usual. Though he tried to maintain his usual expression, he clearly failed. Ranpo looked scared. He was the one who had found Dazai.
Dazai winced, vaguely recalling Ranpo brushing his wet bangs from his face with trembling hands. He remembered how he'd tried to give him CPR. Even though Ranpo looked weak, Dazai would definitely have bruises on his ribs.
"Maybe we should finally go home,"— Dazai whispered wearily. It was already hard to keep his eyelids open. The adrenaline had worn off, and fatigue was taking its toll.
"I'll walk you home," —Ranpo said firmly, jumping off the table. Dazai wasn't about to argue.
___________________________-4-____________________________
Soothing jazz music was playing in the bar, the lights were dim, and there weren't many people there. Oda Sakunosuke sat at the bar, leisurely swirling a glass of whiskey. A few minutes ago, Ango, not waiting for Dazai, had excused himself and left, citing work. So Oda continued to sit there completely alone. It didn't bother him; even despite the alcohol he'd consumed, he felt calm and relaxed.
However, after 30 minutes, a bad feeling came over him. Dazai usually arrived early, talking to some calico cat. There were days when he was late due to missions or didn't show up at all. But he'd warn them in advance, spamming Oda's phone with a stream of meaningless messages.
Oda hadn't received a single message today. The three of them hadn't seen each other in quite some time. Dazai seemed busier with each passing day. Oda kept hearing about his missions. The youngest mafia enforcer closed more cases than anyone else. It was no wonder Mori kept him constantly by his side.
In any case, Dazai was indecently late. Osamu had been looking forward to this meeting more than anyone else and reminded him of it every time they crossed paths in the corridors of the port mafia. So his failure to show up began to worry him. After waiting a little longer, Oda sighed and asked to close the account. He threw his beige coat over his shoulders and left the bar.
At first, he wanted to go home and sleep. It had been a pretty tough day, and he had a mission planned for tomorrow. But something nagged at him.
Odasaku stopped near the apartment complex. Dazai had finally moved out of his hideous shipping container and into a proper apartment. It wasn't luxurious and, frankly, wasn't suitable for a port mafia enforcer, but it was something. After another unsuccessful attempt to call, Oda headed for the apartment.
Odasaku had a spare key, so getting into the apartment wasn't difficult. The lights were off in all the rooms. There was a deafening silence. Without thinking twice, Oda ran to the bathroom.
It wasn't that he hadn't expected it, but still, it was a sight he couldn't get used to. Dazai lay leaning against the wall on the cold tiled bathroom floor. Strange bottles, obviously already empty, lay scattered around him.
Oda got straight to work. He tried to revive Dazai, but it was all in vain. So, carefully turning the body onto its side, Oda reached for the phone.
There were too many bottles to handle the situation on his own, but Oda couldn't decide who to call: emergency services or Mori. Finally deciding on the mafia boss, Oda sent the message and turned his attention to Dazai. While Oda was texting Mori, Osamu's lips had already turned blue, and his breathing, which had been shallow to begin with, seemed to have completely stopped.
Cursing, Oda rolled Dazai back onto his back, a little more harshly than he intended. Pressing hard on his chest, he counted how long it would take the mafia henchmen to get here. Holding his nose tightly with his hand, he inhaled air into Dazai's lungs. Nothing happened.
"Come on," — Oda's usually impassive face showed concern. He began pressing hard on Dazai's chest. At some point, he seemed to hear a nasty crunch. Dazai's rib cracked under his hands.
It felt like an eternity before Dazai suddenly inhaled and coughed. Oda let out a sigh of relief and brushed his bangs back, peering into his one open eye. — "Hey, hey, don't close your eyes, Dazai, I need to know what you took."
When Osamu didn't react at all, Oda tried to ask again, but to no avail. — "Okay, calm down." — He lifted Dazai by the forearms and pulled him toward the toilet. Bending him over, Oda grabbed Dazai's chin firmly, but not painfully.
"I'm sure neither of us wants this, but I have to." — With these words, Oda stuck his fingers in Dazai's mouth, intending to induce vomiting. Dazai, in turn, tried to resist, but Oda merely hissed at him in irritation.
Finally, footsteps were heard. Some of Dazai's subordinates, whose names Oda couldn't remember, burst into the bathroom and ran up to them. They questioned Oda, who answered only half-heartedly. Eventually, the subordinates bundled their boss into a car and drove off toward headquarters.
_________________________-5-______________________________
Dazai was humming a tune cheerfully, reclining on the couch. Mori had already glanced at him irritably several times, but continued writing in his medical records. Frankly, Dazai's medical records were simply enormous. Whether this was due to the sheer number of suicide attempts or Mori's meticulousness towards him was unclear. Most likely, both.
In any case, Dazai was bored, very bored. He had already tried to complain to Mori about it, to which Mori replied that it served him right. It seemed the boss was in a bad mood. Although, it would be better to say he was furious.
Dazai and Chuuya had a very important mission yesterday. But who knew that Dazai would accidentally fall out of the window? They should have chosen a higher floor. That would only bring problems.
That's why Chuuya had to go on the mission without him. Dazai couldn't wait for him to return. Boredom was eating him up inside. He couldn't even go for a drink with Odasaku. Or look for a beautiful woman who would agree to commit double suicide.
Because the altitude was actually quite high. His right arm and leg were in casts, his collarbone and a couple of ribs were cracked, his face was heavily bandaged, his lips were split and bloody, and he also had a concussion. It was because of this that Mori sat next to Dazai's bed like a nurse, making sure he didn't fall asleep. Well, he was getting a vacation.
They'd pumped him full of painkillers, his vision was swimming. Although maybe that was because of the concussion. It didn't matter. It was still very boring. Dazai wanted to talk to someone, because he was forbidden to read or play video games. But Mori, as if punishing him, remained silent.
When he finally heard footsteps in the hallway, Dazai perked up. He wouldn't mistake those footsteps for anyone else's.
The door gently opened, and Chuuya entered. He deliberately avoided looking at Dazai, merely nodding respectfully to the boss in greeting.
"Well, Chuuya-kun,"— Mori drawled, looking up from his notes. —"Finally, you're back; we've been waiting for you. How was the mission?"
"Everything went well, boss. I'll prepare a detailed report later." — Dazai wasn't sure Chuuya was telling the truth. His partner looked tired and exhausted, but still composed.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," — Mori smiled, and began to gather his papers from the table. — "It would have been nice if Dazai hadn't given us such a surprise," the boss's voice took on a menacing tone. Apparently, he was really angry this time.
"Hey, I told you it was an accident," — Dazai said, offended, from his seat. — "It could happen to anyone."
Mori and Chuuya glanced at him for just a second, skeptical, making it clear they didn't believe him at all. Then they turned away, continuing to ignore him.
"Chuuya-kun, thank you for your work, but I have to keep an eye on you for this misunderstanding. You can submit your report later." — Mori, still ignoring Dazai, left the room.
A tense silence fell. Chuuya sat down where Mori had been and bowed his head. — "Do I even need to ask why you did this? And don't even dare mention an accident." — Chuuya interrupted him sharply, and Dazai snapped his mouth shut. Under the painkillers and with the concussion, it was hard to think. That's why Dazai only sighed, unable to think of a response.
Chuuya merely smiled humorlessly. —"And now I have to sit here and watch you, why should I punish you like this?"
Despite his words, Nakahara gently ran his finger over Dazai's cracked lip. He peered closely at the pale face and shook his head in response to his thoughts. Dazai hadn't looked in the mirror yet, but he knew perfectly well that he looked hideous. There was practically no skin left uncovered by bandages. His face was covered in hideous bruises, and his hair was dirty and stuck to his forehead, which was extremely irritating.
Dazai couldn't find a response. All desire to talk had vanished, and he felt extremely tired.
Not wanting to look at Chuuya's face, which reflected too many emotions, Dazai finally closed his eyes.