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“Hey has anyone seen Dazai today?’’ Atsushi asked, puzzled. It wasn’t unusual for Dazai to come much later in the day, in fact it had become the norm for the brunette. Yet, today Atsushi couldn’t help but feel as if something was off. The way that his mentor had stared at him the other day, filled him with unease. His stomach churned just at the memory. What if Dazai wasn’t alright? However, the rest of the ADA didn’t seem to share much of the sentiment. Yosano and Kyoka had just shrugged, Kenji was off on a mission and Kunikida had simply brushed it off as another one of Dazai’s antics. Much of the ADA had a similar response, perhaps this was just another one of Dazai’s antics and Atsushi was a fool for worrying. Still, it was better safe than sorry.
In the end, the only one that had decided to somewhat help was Ranpo, although Ranpo did have to be bribed by snacks.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Atsusi questioned.
“Do you doubt my abilities?” Ranpo replied, eyebrows raised.
“Ah, it’s not that. It’s not that at all!” Atsushi stammered, that wasn’t the message he was trying to send. Ranpo simply snickered knowingly and skipped ahead, Atsushi scrambled to catch up to him.
“If I’m right, which I always am,” Ranpo quipped, “Dazai should be in this area, although I’m not sure what he’d be doing near a finance building out of all places.” In front of them was a large three story building nestled among the other companies of the city. It was simply a brick building the color of dull browns and the occasional coral. Nowhere was it near a remarkable location. What could Dazai possibly be doing here? Near the back of the building the two of them could see a small crowd of people murmuring to one another. All of them tightly bunched up against one another, making anything beyond them near impossible to see. What could possibly be that intriguing? Atsushi couldn’t help but puzzle to himself. The two of them squeezed through the crowd, Atsushi mumbling apologies as he bumped into people left and right. After a while, they managed to pull themselves out of the crowd. Atsushi sneezed at the overpowering scent of mingled cologne. The area ahead of them was closed off, striking yellow caution tape blocking their path. Through the floral scents of perfume and cologne Atsushi could pick up a hint of metallic tang in the air. Before Atsushi could even address the situation, Ranpo was already pushing past the makeshift tapes and warning signs.
“What are you doing?” Atsushi hissed at him, concerned, “Are you sure this is really the right place? And are we even allowed back here?”
“We’re detectives, we’re probably allowed,” Ranpo shot back, “And yes, I am certain.” There is a certainty in his voice that made it hard for Atsushi to protest. However, he could see the faint glimmer of worry in Ranpo’s eyes. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Sighing, Atsushi pushed past the tape and followed Ranpo around the corner. The two of them snaked around the tape and obstacles in their path. Careful, not to bump into any officers supervising the area. Which probably meant they’re not allowed to be here, Atsushi inwardly groaned. What would they even hypothetically do if they were caught? What if the police officers detained them, how would they explain their situation to the ADA? All these worries ran rampant in Atsushi’s mind. So much so that he didn’t realize that Ranpo had come to a halt in front of him.
“Ack!” Atsushi sputtered, backing up in surprise.
“Shh!” Ranpo hissed, his eyes no longer holding the playful joy from earlier. Oh, it was serious. He whispered a faint sorry and the two of them slowly crept forwards. As soon as they had gotten past the majority of the officers the change was immediate. The tang of iron and rot hit Atsushi’s face immediately. He involuntarily gagged at the intensely putrid odor. Even as the smell’s undertone switched to a sickly sweet, it didn’t stop his eyes from watering. For once Atsushi cursed his enhanced senses. It only got worse as they got closer to whatever was producing that revolting scent. Ranpo seemed affected as well. Crinkling his nose and often stopping to blink the water forming in his eyes away. It was a horrid and unique scent, yet the two of them immediately knew what the odor could possibly be. Neither of them brought up the chilling possibility that awaited them. There was still hope and Atsushi would cling onto that beacon of light like it was his lifeline. They kept approaching closer and closer even though both their instincts screamed at them to vomit or run, perhaps both. Maybe it was because of sheer will but both of them managed to get to the source of the disgusting smell.
Paramedics and police surrounded a black bag, limp on the sidewalk. Splatters and pools of blood were everywhere at the scene. In the corner of his eye, Atsushi could see someone furiously scrubbing away the stains on the sidewalk. Ranpo’s eyes darkened and realization hit Atsushi like a train.
Oh. The world began to look glassy and far away.
Oh.
The agency was silent for the first time in ages. No one knew how to address the news. It was as if a heavy blanket was suffocating them, like a candle, snuffed out. The charming and unserious detective that once roamed the office was no more. Kunikida looked up from his stack of papers, his hand slightly cramping. He pushed his glasses up, adjusting them. The office was dead silent today, it was almost eerie. Almost. Ranpo had run into the agency, dragging an unconscious Atsushi behind him. The great detective had an abnormally serious expression, unlike his usual self. Then he dropped the news that shattered the agency. Everything had been a blur after that but Kunikida had ended up at his desk doing paperwork somehow.
In the corner of the desk a coffee mug stared back at him. A white mug with a badly captured image of Dazai with a ridiculous expression. He had given the mug to Kunikida for his birthday as a joke. He’d scoffed at the gift but had kept it. Now that same gift burned holes into his figure. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. Still, he kept quiet. Work, yes he would work his worries away. You can’t feel anything if you’re drowning in responsibility. Yes he should work.
“Honey can soothe sore throats, lavender and camobile for calming, morphine poppies make strong pain killers, penicillin is a standard anti-biotic,” Yosano muttered, shuffling bottles and papers around her desk. It had been a while since she had organized her medical cabinet. “Aloa vera has cooling properties, ginger is good for nausea and can ease period cramps.” Seriously, when had she last cleaned this place out? More and more jars had begun to pile up on her desk. Pills, powders, dried herbs and plants, incense and calming candles, fluids, bandages.... and anti-depressents. Yosano stared at the small orange pill bottle in her hand.
“Dazai, you can’t have any more of these!”
“Why not?! You said it yourself, these would help.”
“Well clearly it's not working! Either you’ve built up an immunity or they just don’t work on you. It would be better to try something else.”
“I-Just give me a week, if it doesn’t work I’ll stop.”
“You said that last month. Dazai, the antidepressants are clearly not working and if you have any more it’ll start affecting you.”
“Yosano, you don’t understand. I need them.”
“Dazai, you’re physically dependent on this and it isn’t good for you.”
“But-.”
“No. I’m not budging, I’m not prescribing any more of these. And don’t you dare try to get them some other way. I will be asking other pharmacists.”
“...”
“Dazai, I know you’re struggling but these won’t work. Perhaps getting help from a licensed therapist could help, I could as Fukazawa to-.”
“No, it’s fine. Thank you. Good day Doctor Yosano.” The door shut.
“Doctor Yosano..?” a small voice caught her attention. Kyouka peaked her head through the door, her eyes wide.
“Ah, Kyouka. Is there anything you need?” Kyouka doesn’t answer. Still, Yosano can see the faint nervous tremors and the glassly looking eyes. Ah, the… news must’ve rattled her deeply. Yosano sighed fondly and placed the pill bottle down on her desk and opened her arm. With a little bit of hesitation, Kyouka eventually ran into her arms. No words were exchanged. The two of them simply existed together for a moment. Yosano ran her hand through Kyouka’s hair murmuring soft words. She had failed Dazai, but she wouldn’t fail anyone else in the agency. Never again.
The Port Mafia base was always a dreary gray. It always was and always had been. After all, they had a reputation to uphold. Still, Chuuya couldn’t help but notice the city of Yokohama felt a little darker today. Not that it really affected him. He leaned back in his office chair, swirling a glass of scarlet wine. The strong tang of alcohol wafting in the air. Perhaps there will be a thunderstorm tonight, Chuuya mused. Slowly his musings began drifting to the topic of Dazai. It had been a while since that bastard had called him. Was he alright? Chuuya scoffed, of course that mackerel would be fine, Dazai did have a talent of evading death.
A sharp and precise knock at his door jolted him out of his mind. He opened the door to see a small package laying humbly on his outside mat. What the hell? Chuuya cautiously picked up the package, retreating to his desk. It was a small box with countless letters and papers piled inside. Chuuya grabbed one of the letters and carefully unfolded it. Seriously, who wrote letters in this era? However, his playful musings stopped as soon as his eyes examined the contents of the letter.
Chuuya, if you’re reading this I’m dead. I’m sorry. This is probably a corny ass apology but I don’t know what else to say. So I won’t. You can do whatever you want. Yell at me, curse at me. Wish me eternal damnation in hell. It’s alright. I know I broke our promise and I hope you don’t forgive me. I’m tired but that won’t be a viable excuse right? We’re all tired, I was just too weak and selfish to stay. Don’t give up like I did.
- Dazai
What…? No. Nonononononononononononononono.
Chuuya frantically dug through the box, reading through all the letters and papers. This had to be a cruel joke. Another one of that darn mackerel's antics? He fumbled with his phone, struggling to send a message with his shaky hands. Dazai did not respond. Of course he didn’t, because Dazai was always selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish. But Chuuya was more selfish. He didn’t notice his damn mackerel struggling. The wine on his desk no longer held the same alluring scent as before. It was suddenly looking much closer to blood than a beverage. The scent of alcohol nauseated his core. Chuuya had been so self-absorbed that he never noticed his best friend (lover) drowning underwater. He was angry. Angry at Dazai, angry at the ADA, the PM, but mostly angry at himself. The rest of the night passed in a blur of crumpled papers and tears. When he regained his senses all that was left was shredded paper and stinging papercuts on his hand…when had he taken off his gloves? It didn’t matter, it never did.
In the very bottom of the box was a final letter, sealed in blue wax. With watery eyes Chuuya snatched the letter. He refused to be gentle, why should he be gentle when that damn bastard left him. The letter was opened with little care. His eyes slowly glided over the contents of the paper. The words brought a fresh wave of tears to his eye. In his hands the paper was brittle and slightly yellowed…Dazai had been planning this for a while. The realization sickened him further. Chuuya’s eyes drifted to the dark stains on the paper. Tear stains. That stupid mackerel had been crying while writing this. The paper slightly tore in his grip. All he could do was cry. That’s all he was and would ever be after all. A useless boy pretending to be a figure of authority. He was no different nor less pitiful as his time spent with the sheep or with Dazai.
“Fuck you,” Chuuya mumbled, “Do you hate me that much?” It wasn’t a question. Chuuya’s mind had answered that statement long ago.
It was a sight to see really, the executive of the Port Mafia sobbing over sentimental words on a paper. Crying because his best friend didn’t love him enough to stay. The opened letter stared back at him, almost mocking in a sense. Outside in the streets of Yokohama, it rained. How pitiful indeed.
I love you. Haha, I know a big shocker. What a way to come out of the closet. Well, I guess that’s paradoxical in a sense. I love you but not enough to say. Woah, I should be the next Shakesphere…I should stop.
Chuuya I can’t do this anymore. I barely eat or sleep. I’m scared to fall asleep but I’m scared to stay awake. It seems wherever I go, unconscious or not, I’m always in hell. Nightmares haunt me because the stupid past can’t leave me but at the same time being awake is no better. Chuuya, I’m so fucking scared and I don’t know what to do. Oda said it would be okay, but it’s not. Everything's collapsing. I was going to kill myself. Maybe. Who knows? I might, I might not. I’m cowardly and leeching off everyone I know. I’m like a parasite, and the best thing to do with parasites is to get rid of them. Don’t blame yourself, there’s no use in saving a sinking ship anyways. This is short and hardly adequate for a proper farewell. Oh, well I never had a talent for doing things right anyways. Good day and goodnight. I hope I don’t see you for a while. Live a long and fulfilling life. Although I admit it is quite hypocritical to say.
In the spring the alyssums will bloom. I know you’ll think of me then. Please, do me a favor and let that be the only time I cross your mind. I will be the flowers and the trees, something to remember and smile. Unlike when I was alive.
- Dazai (Your mackerel)
The great former Port Mafia executive, the Demon Prodigy, a member of the ADA. All titles given to Dazai in his lifetime. That was the end of his story. No final battle full of triumph, tragedy and glory. It wasn’t an honorable death written by poets and scholars. No, it was a quiet disappearance, a spark slowly fizzing out in a dark and miserable world.
This will be a tale not spoken by them nor the sea
Instead it will be uttered between you and me
A story not told by poets nor words
Only sung by the whistle of birds
In blooming flowers I’ll stand among
The scent of you shall fill my lungs
Hold my hand my dear, don't fear
Through these murky waters I’ll help you steer
So please don’t sob where I once stood
You have brought me joy like no one could