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A few days after Dazai and Chuuya returned to Yokohama:
The sunset paints the Agency's rooftop in shades of orange, the sky bleeding gold into deepening blue. The city hums below—distant cars, the muffled rhythm of lives being lived. Dazai sits there alone, legs dangling over the drop, his palms flat against the warm concrete. His gaze is lost somewhere on the horizon, unfocused, distant.
He hears the soft footsteps behind him but doesn't turn around. He already knows who it is.
"Kyouka-chan."
"Dazai-san."
She sits down next to him without asking. Close enough to be present, far enough to give him space. Her small hands rest on her knees, fingers laced together. She doesn't look at him. She looks at the sky too.
They share a quiet moment, before Kyouka finally speaks.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You just did."
"Do you really love him? Chuuya-san."
Dazai doesn't answer immediately. His hands, resting on his knees, go still.
"That's a very direct question."
"I'm a very direct person."
He lets out a small huff.
"And what makes you think that's any of your business?"
Kyouka doesn't flinch. She continues speaking- her voice steady.
"Because I know Chuuya-san. We were both apprentices of Koyo-san. He was always kind to me."
She pauses. Her eyes stay fixed on the horizon.
I just want to be sure. That you really love him. That you won't make him suffer."
Dazai's jaw tightens. Almost imperceptibly. His thumb traces a crack in the concrete.
Silence stretches between them for a moment, before Dazai breaks it.
"But this isn't what you really wanted to talk about, was it?"
Kyouka nods slightly and lowers her gaze to her hands.
"We were both picked up. We have been saved by someone. You by your friend. Me by Atsushi."
Dazai hums, hinting for her to continue.
"But I didn't know it was allowed." Kyouka goes on, her voice quieter. "To love someone. To be loved. After what we did."
She finally looks up at Dazai.
"Can we really do that? Do we have the right to do that?"
The silence that follows is heavy. Dazai doesn't turn to look at her. His gaze remains fixed on the horizon, but his shoulders drop — just slightly — as if he's stopped holding his breath.
When he speaks, his voice is different. No theatrics. Just honesty.
"I don't know."
Kyouka waits. She doesn't push. She just sits there, patient.
"He never pretended I was good. He never judged me — not because he's better than me, he's not." A pause. His voice is quieter now. "He just... saw me. All of it. And decided to stay anyway."
Dazai finally looks at her. His eyes are dark, but not empty. There's something there—something fragile.
"I don't know if we're allowed to love someone. I don't think anyone can give us that permission."
He pauses, takes a breath.
"But Chuuya never questioned if I was worthy of receiving his love. Nor did he have to allow me to give it back to him. He just stayed."
Kyouka considers this.
"Maybe that's the same thing," she says.
Dazai is quiet for a moment, before he speaks again.
"Being loved isn't something you have to earn. It's something that happens to you. And the only choice you have is whether to run from it or not."
"And you?" Kyouka asks. "Do you want to stay?"
Dazai looks at her for a long moment.
"I want to stay."
Kyouka nods. Then, slowly, she stands up. She brushes the dust from her kimono.
"Then I think that's okay."
She turns to leave, then stops.
"But you should propose as soon as you can. Chuuya-san is a handsome man, he could have whoever he wants. If you are not fast, you'll end up like Verlaine-san, who spends all his time talking about his ex-lover."
Dazai blinks. He stares at Kyouka for a few seconds- and then he burst out laughing.
It's not a chuckle, it's a full, surprised, genuine laugh—his shoulders shaking, his head dropping forward, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. The sound echoes across the rooftop, warm and unexpected.
Kyouka turns her head slightly, just enough to catch his reaction. There's the barest hint of satisfaction on her face.
"I didn't expect that from you, Kyouka-chan," Dazai says, still laughing. "You're full of surprises."
"I learned from the best," she says, deadpan.
Dazai wipes his eyes, his laughter finally settling into something quieter.
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
Kyouka nods and starts walking toward the door. She's almost gone when Dazai's voice stops her.
"And Kyouka-chan?"
She pauses. Her hand hovers near the doorframe.
"Say hello to Kenji for me."
Kyouka's shoulders tense almost imperceptibly. She doesn't turn around.
"I don't know what you mean."
Dazai's lips curl into the smallest hint of a smile — not his usual mocking one, but something gentler.
"Of course you don't."
Kyouka stands there for a heartbeat longer. Then she walks away, disappearing back into the building. The door clicks shut behind her.
Dazai turns back to the horizon.
The sky is dark now. The city lights flicker below.
For once, he doesn't feel like jumping.
He sits there for a long moment, letting the silence settle around him. Then he hears it — the soft thud of boots landing on concrete behind him.
"Have you been waiting long?"
He doesn't need to turn around to know who it is. "I had some time to think."
Chuuya moves to sit beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost brush. He follows Dazai's gaze to the city below.
They sit in silence for a while, enjoying each other's presence.
"Chuuya?"
Chuuya hums, a soft sound of acknowledgment.
Dazai turns to look at him. The city lights catch in his eyes, making them softer than usual.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "For staying. All this time."
Chuuya blinks, caught off guard. He looks back at Dazai.
Dazai's lips curve into something small and genuine.
"You definitely need someone to annoy you every day, or your life would be boring. So I decided..." he pauses, just for a moment. "I am gonna stay with you. As long as you'll have me."
Chuuya stares at him. Then a slow smile spreads across his face — not his usual smirk, but something real.
"If you'd left out the 'annoying me' part," he says, "I would've thought the anemic jackass had replaced you in prison."
Dazai huffs and pouts a little before turning back to the skyline.
Chuuya reaches over and takes his hand. The leather of his glove is warm and familiar against Dazai's skin.
They sit together, hands intertwined, watching the moon casting its reflection across the Yokohama bay.
This time, they both decided to stop running.