#okay but the image of dazai saying that so casually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inamagicalhallucination · 1 year

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i had the best bsd famous no powers au headcanons because i got the mental image of dazai saying he “hates” chuuya and none of his friends should listen to him because chuuya sucks and atsushi sadly putting the chuuya poster he wanted to buy back

and also “wait so dazai can sleep with chuuya but i cant listen to his music??? wtf ???”

most of them would be in the entertainment btw but a few exceptions here and there

okay first of all a lot of the ways every one met every one would be different for the sake of like creative liberty sfakdj like dazai and atsushi would have met earlier ; i would probably not put akutagawa in the music industry so his relationship with dazai would be different - but i havent actually worked any of that out yet so ignore this

anyway

first of all - a key plot point would be that chuuya and dazai had a falling out - and i mean an actual falling out like they cant stand anyone bringing the other up

which really sucks for the ada becuz like chuuya’s music >>>>>>>>>>>

anyway here are what i think some of the characters would be like

chuuya:

- he rose to fame as a teenager - he’s wildly known for his good music and his smexy face

- a good portion of younger artists like his music and look up to him

- he likes writing his own music but sometimes feels conscious about more dark/personal songs

- had a falling out with dazai at some point becuz of this he does not like ppl listening to the music that comes from dazai’s friends but he does secretly like a lot of their songs

- has secret social media accounts to stalk dazai

- has cried becuz he convinced himself at some point about dazai ‘being with’ almost everyone at the agency (at different time periods) and was not right even once

- every single one of his friends knows that half of his music is obviously about dazai but no one knows how to bring it up

- every one’s favorite thirst trap

- you know how a product will appear for a .000000000000000001 sec w/ a bts member and immediately get sold out ?? yeah thats how it is for him

- he’s very strict about crediting ppl - like someone will say like two words to him that’ll inspire him and he’ll credit them as co-writer

dazai:

- im not sure if i want him to be a singer or not but he’s definitely involved in other aspects such as writing producing etc

- HATES chuuya

- so much that he’s constantly thinking about him like the pathetic wet cat that he is

- he has forbidden everyone in the agency from listening to chuuya’s music

- there may or may not be a secret underground community within the ada that listens to chuuya’s music and fangirls over him and it may or may not include everyone but dazai

- when someones mad at dazai they blast chuuya’s music

- *listening to chuuya’s music, secretly* wait is this fucking song about me ? ... nah

- atsushi once wrote a song about dazai and how glad that he was that he had a brother figure like dazai and dazai cried for 24 hours straight

- atsushi is no longer allowed to casually write about him

- he acts really playful and aloof but he streams all of his friends music religiously and is secretly their biggest fan

- has tried to convince everyone he knows that sings to sing his suicide song - no one has agreed yet

- he has trouble finding inspiration but when he does he latches on - sometimes he’ll disappear for days and then come back with the most perfect songs

- really only openly nice and supportive to atsushi tbh

atsushi

- i want him to be with dazai earlier becuz i think it would let their dynamic really settle and atsushi trauma-response personality won’t be as prominent if that makes sense

- atsushi’s favorite musician is everyone :D no im kidding thats what he says but its actually chuuya

- yeah he’s the younger brother of dazai (not sure if their kinda like brothers or just adopted brothers or what yet) and he’s in love with chuuya it runs in the family

- he’s in a band

- it’s called snow beneath the moonlight - it’s him, naomi, and junichiro

- maybe they’ll add lucy and/or kyouka but idk

- atsushi’s the main singer - juni’s on drums - naomi’s on guitar - but they switch around for the funsies

- im gonna create a separate section for them actually and keep the focus on atsushi for now

- atsushi’s solo music is....

- the first album he released came after weeks and weeks of people spotting him going to the studio in bright fun clothes - and he posted a lot of fun things

- so everyone thought it’d be a fun, motivational bop album

- it was so fucking sad like holy shit what the fuck atsushi go to fucking therapy

- really good tho :>

- like if you could u would inject his voice into ur veins

- ya know lyn lapid’s song detached

- yeah

- if atsushi sang that itd be about akutagawa btw im not saying anything but i am

- a lot of his clothes are styled by rashomon - a fashion brand owned by the akutagawa siblings - half because of however celeb - brand partnerships work - half because he somehow became ryuu’s muse

- i want him to live with dazai - which is one of the reasons why they need to meet earlier because i had the mental image of atsushi talking about moving out and “yeah so i moved out of my brother’s place and ya know it’s strange. good at times but strange. Like i can do so many things i was never allowed to - like i can get wasted, try acid, invite someone for the night, buy chuuya nakahara posters, put up my chuuya nakahara posters, listen to chuuya nakahara’s music, own chuuya nakahara’s albums”

- since i think dazai would probably let atsushi drink as long as he’s not insane about it , throw kunikida in there too

- has a lot of songs about ryuu but he’ll never tell him

- ryuu listening to any love song by atsushi “wait is this fucking song about me??? ...nah”

- he may or may not be fucking ryuunosuke akutagawa i cannot deny or confirm anything

akutagawa:

- he owns a fashion brand with his sister solely becuz i showed him to my friend a few months ago and i said “sorry he dresses like a sad vampire victorian orphan thing” and she said “that is the sexiest man i have ever seen” or something like that its been a hot second

- may or may not be in love with atsushi you cant prove it - well okay sure he has collection after collection inspired by atsushi but-

- okay so maybe he listens to atsushi’s music when he’s coming up with designs but-

- okay so maybe he has all of atsushi’s albums hidden where atsushi cant find them but-

- okay so maybe atsushi’s been at his place enough for akutagawa to think ‘oh no what if he finds all the albums’ but-

- anyway

- he had a lot of goth, punk, etc, vibes and stuck to a dark, muted color range

- and then one day dropped a gold-violet colored bright not-at-all-like-his-previous-stuff collection and pretended it was normal

snow beneath the moonlight - band

members: atsushi, junichiro, naomi

- it was started in highschool by juni going to atsushi and being like ‘wanna start a band’ and atsushi, who was sleeping a little cardboard box in the spot where the sun was, was like “hmmm? um sure zzzzzzzzz” if that makes sense

- naomi found out about it and joined before atsushi and juni could ask her

- so typically it’s atsushi on vocals, naomi on guitar, juni on drums, but they can be pretty versatile like atsushi’s usually got a guitar on him sorry i cant think of the words rn and juni can play the piano and naomi can do all of that

- naomi and juni sing too if they want - theyre not strict about roles

- they wrote their music together in highschool

- they still do - but now when their stuck they dont cry they ask others for help :)

- very sweet and fun vibes

- they literally just do whatever they want - if there is a style or genre they want to try they probably will

- naomi has to do a lot of the talking becuz juni gets uncomfy and atsushi’s attention span causes him to leave ppl mid conversations becuz he saw a cool leaf

okay

quick notes:

- not sure if oda and his orphans will be alive but itd be weird to kill them off in this au for me but idk

- oda’s a writer

- poe is also a writer

- idk where to stick ranpo in becuz it hard for me to imagine him being anything but the world’s best detective

- i kind of want yosano to be in the industry but i also want her to be a doctor

- the ada is just fukuzawa’s adopted children that do whatever they want career wise becuz of him - nepotism babies btu theyre all orphans

- kyouka’s a singer and so is kenji

- katai’s a producer

- kunikida’s someones manager but who knows whose he only ever babysits dazai and the rest of hte agency

- so as you can see im still working out the kinks of this au

- if you have suggestions or comments lemme know

- this would be equal parts skk and sskk and whatever the fuck everyone else’s got going on

- kouyou would also be a singer - im thinking classical

- q is that child artist that you love but cant help but wonder fi theyre being exploited

- lucy is trained in america and started off there but has recently moved to japan idk how thatll work for her

- sigma is a big atsushi fan btw

- the ada is so chaotic and disorganized and half the ppl there arent even in the industry but it’s just a cover for fukuzawa’s children so it still works

anyway i might continue this and update as i go

feel free to ask more about this au or give ideas or whatever <33

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cloudcountry · 10 months

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okay okay so first impressions on the ikevamp boys

Napoleon: oooo I can already tell he's going to be one of my favorites. On first glace I didn't think he'd be the type for our character to just trust??? But sure I guess. His hair reminds me of Belphegor from Obey me. I like his clothes tho and I like soldier characters so he's got that going for him. He gets bonus points because he tried to help us in the beginning but the image in my brain of hiding behind a curtain with him is so funny to me lmao

Mozart: pretty pretty pretty. That hair is so pretty and his eyes too and he looked even prettier when he looked directly at me. But he's very cold and gives me "it's not a phase mom!" vibes. Music is nice and all but idk he might be too cold for me

Leonardo: did this man just fall asleep in the hallway immediately after knocking??? He's pretty and interesting, but sir you are mysterious. I like his clothes tho and I would wear them if given the chance. Also no sir you can't study me for research-

Arthur: No. Just no. I've never been one to like the playboy and flirty types so no. At first I thought he would be cool but nah, he has nice hair tho. I don't trust people who are "instantly" attracted to me, so I don't trust him. He's sketchy

Vincent: omg so sweet and innocent boy! He's so pure and nice and I want to be his friend! Nothing more tho, just his friend. His scarf is a little strange to me but that's okay :)

Theo: ooooo another one I instantly like. He's very pretty and I like him. The way the game describes him with a sharp tongue, takes no prisoners in his ambition, and respects Vincent more than anyone, he kinda gives me Sebek vibes and I'm absolutely in love with Sebek. I want to pet his hair

Dazai: Another one with pretty hair, but his personality just isn't attractive to me. I could see him as a friend and we would have fun, but nothing more. Also this man came in through the window??? Chaotic but so natural about it that it's amazing

Isaac: When I first saw him my brain went "Omg there he is! That's Auburn's man!" lmao. He kinda reminds me of Azul and I can see why you like him. He's also pretty and I like his red clothing. But it's funny to me how he doesn't like being associated with apples. It kinda makes me want to just casually offer him an apple, but not say anything

Jean: Idk I haven't seen him that much but he's okay I guess?? The eyepatch reminds me of Kaeya from Genshin but his whole outfit and vibe is throwing me off. Idk I'm just not too much of a fan and I want to restyle his hair for him

Shakespeare: Heterochromia gang yeahhhhhh! He's pretty and I like his style a lot but he's another one that I think I would just want to be friends with. I also have trouble understanding what he's saying because my brain is smol and slow. He's like the kind of guy I would say I love in a platonic way

Saint-Germain: Sir??? Why??? He's okay i guess. When we first met him I thought it was a little strange he commented on our smell but whatever. And now we're just living with him and he explains everything so casually. Mans must really like the color brown from his outfit also the really long jacket over his other jacket is throwing me off. He has so many layers on. He gives me dad vibes tho like he's a father figure to the rest of them

Sebastian: Ah yes, one hell of a butler. In multiple ways he reminds me of Sebastian from Black Butler. I like him and he's pretty but he just kinda seems like a normal guy??? He's stoic and that's great but he's just kinda normal lmao

Vlad: omg another pretty boy! I really like his design and clothing and I'm going to steal his cape. I don't have much to say about him because I haven't seen him much but he seems kinda obsessive? Idk I'm wondering how he's a tyrant but also pure hearted

Faust: Another pretty boy! I like his clothing too and he kinda reminds me of my oc lol. I want to pet his hair. But he better not try any of his experiments on me or I will fight

Charles: Hello??? This man was an executioner??? But he's so cute and pretty?? Also what color are his eyes I can't tell. Are they pink? Are they blue? Does he have both colors in his eyes? If so then again. heterochromia gang yeah! Idk he just feels like a cute little gremlin to me

also why is our room so bright and pink?? I like how it looks better when it's dark with the blues but when the light is on oh no

anyway idk who I'm going to choose I'm torn between Napoleon and Theo

THANK YOU FOR THSI RYKER I WAS RAMBLING TO MY BEDROOM WALLS WHILE READING THIS JAHSGDJHASD MY THOUGHTS CAN BEST BE SUMMED UP AS THIS:

yes napoleon is like the face of ikevamp methinks??? he gives me very much "characcters the devs set up to be the first route" vibes because hes immediately super kind to the mc LMAO

MOZART IS SO GORGEOUS and whne he blew off mc in teh prologue i was like "oh wow fans must LOVE YOU" AGSHFDHGASFD

leonardo falls asleep everywhere he is so dad coded its insane. i bet he sleeps with his mouth half open and his head tilted upwards with his hands in his lap.

i get you. arthur is weird NEXT!!

STRAUGHT UP I WOULD KILL FOR VINCENT. HAVENT DONE HIS ROUTE YET BUT HE JUST GIVES SUCH WARM HEARTED, KIND, SAFE VIBES I WANT HIM TO HUG ME. I FEEL LIKE THAT WOULD FIX ALL OF MY PROBLEMS.

mm i hadnt thought about theo being sebek coded but i feel like youre right!! :O i dont know much about theo so i neitehr confirm or deny that BUT BASED ON VIEBS ALONE I FEEL LIKE YOURE ONTO SOMETHING.

DAZAI IS SO WEIRD AND I MEAN THAT BOTH IN A NICE WAY AND A ??????? WAY NEXT

okay ngl this made me embarrassingly giddy and i actually scrolled down to find isaac's name the second i saw you sent this in just so i could read his first. you had me giggling and kicking my feet and twirling my hair BC YORUE RIGHT HE KINDA IS AZUL CODED??? I HADNT NOTICED BEFORE BUT YK i have a type oops. AND I ACTUALLY BOUGHT AN APPLE HAIR CLIP SO I COULD MATCH WITH HIM HELP

i dont know anything about jean ajshdjasdg

I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SHAKESPEARE EITHER OTHE RTHAN HES FRIENDS WITH VICNENT AND HIS BUNNY HAS HIS EYES AND IS NAMED PUCK AND ITS TEH CUTEST THING

oh yes comte is definitely the father figure he is such a dad. him and leonardo are the dads. theyre kinda..................................................if yk what i mean. theyve got something going on JHGAFSDHG

SEBASTIAN WAS ONE OF THE CHARACTERS I THOUGHT WAS COOL IN THE BEGINNING but people have told me his route isnt exactly the best so yk,.,.., its lower on my list ajshdf

i know nothing about vlad except for the fact that he has a fox named marshmallow and he likes to garden and he likes strawberries and apparently hes an ANTAGONIST which makes no sense but okay

faust scares me tbh but hes the type of guy i would have thpught was attractive three years ago

CHARLES IS SO CUTE :(( I WANT TO HUG HIM AND GIVE HIM HEADPATS AND SHOWER HIM W AFFECTION RAHHHHH okay so MAYBE that would end badly bc he'd get super attached BUT STILL. also i looked into his eye color and dits a gradient greenish pink i think??? VERY PRETTY WAHAHAWHWA

PLS I WOULD LOVE A BLUE ROOM :(((( and if you cant make a decisison just spin the wheel tahts what i do C: KEEP MY UPDATED PLEASE <3

#🦚! ryker #THANK YOU FOR THIS I HAD SO MUCH FUN READING TRHOUGH THESE ASGFDAJSHFDJ #auburn talks ikevamp <3

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rainbowsalt0412 · 1 year

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Osamu Dazai’s Entrance Exam - Chapter 2

11th

Returning home late, I face my inkstone in silence.

Though this is a day I will never forget, I will not inscribe it in my notebook.

No matter how difficult the trial, no matter how great my disgrace, I must laugh. But for now, there is only silence.

I read the paper at my desk at the office. The news has been chaotic all morning. Sensational reports flood the television and Internet.

MISSING YOKOHAMA VISITORS FOUND DEAD

DID A PRIVATE DETECTIVE AGENCY’S MEDDLING LEAD TO THE VICTIMS’ DEATHS?

And then there are the images—the white gas, the suffering victims, and me, grabbing on to the cage. It’s only a matter of time before the pictures make the front page of the newspaper. The agency’s phone has been ringing off the hook all morning with no end in sight. So far, they’ve all been complaints, but it won’t be long before the victims’ families begin to call us to threaten legal action. To make matters worse, we still have no leads as to where the remaining seven missing persons are.

Who took the pictures the moment the victims were killed, and why make them public?

The phone on my desk gives a teeth-grinding trill. I reach for the receiver, but Dazai promptly snatches it up and puts it back in its cradle. The ringing stops.

“Looks like this is exactly what the enemy wanted, huh?” Dazai says cheerfully. He’s carrying a photo in his hand. “If it’s any consolation, this is a really good picture of you.”

I silently try to take it from him, but he nimbly lifts his arm into the air before I can.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? You look awful.”

“…No. There’s work to be done.”

“Wow. You’re not gonna take a day off even after all this? You know, someone threw a rock at me on two separate occasions while I was trying to come into the office today.”

I look outside. A few protesters have been standing in front of the agency, causing a ruckus since morning. There will undoubtedly be even more tomorrow.

“‘Take a day off’? Have you lost your mind? We have a mission of utmost priority: Find the criminal behind this.”

“Well… Yeah. You’re right,” Dazai agrees with a blank look on his face. “Where’s Miss Sasaki?”

“She’s in the infirmary getting examined by Dr. Yosano. Sounds like she’s gonna be okay.”

“Let’s pay her a little visit.”

I get out of my chair. Miss Sasaki is the only known victim to have had contact with the murderer and lived to tell the tale. We can probably figure out who the perpetrator is if we can learn how they’re kidnapping everyone.

I casually look down at the picture before following Dazai into the infirmary. You can clearly see my face in the pictures along with Miss Sasaki’s and the victims’, but the most of Dazai you can see is the tail of his overcoat. How was he able to avoid the secret photos?

***

“I’m sorry… I really wish I could help you, but…” Miss Sasaki helplessly gazes at the floor.

“I’ve always been prone to illness, and I’m anemic, which causes me to faint every now and then. I was feeling especially ill the day I was abducted… I passed out at the train station, probably from the anemia.”

In that case, I guess she wouldn’t have any idea how she was abducted.

However…

“Then that would mean someone abducted you in the midst of the confusion after you passed out.”

Kidnapping someone in the middle of a place as crowded as Yokohama Station would be impossible. Carrying an unconscious woman would draw even more attention. Either there are multiple kidnappers or someone’s using a very clever trick…

“Let me just say…thank you so much for saving me yesterday. I… I don’t have any friends or family to turn to, so…”

Miss Sasaki hangs her head low in silence. She doesn’t say another word after that. With her naturally delicate features coupled together with the porcelain skin, she reminds me of a marionette doll whose strings have been cut. Actually, her own experience isn’t too much different. As if her thread of life had been cut, she was almost killed by an unidentified serial killer for who knows why, and her life could still very well be in danger.

“You even allowed me to stay at your home last night…”

……Hmm?

“Hold on. Where did you stay last night?”

“My place,” Dazai nonchalantly replies.

…………

Are things like this the norm nowadays?

“Thank you so much, Mr. Dazai. You… You were very…kind to me last night…”

Miss Sasaki flushes bashfully for some reason.

“What’s wrong, Kunikida? You’ve got a really weird look on your face.”

“Dazai… Don’t you think that’s taking things a little too fast?”

“I… I was the one who asked him to let me stay over. I basically forced him.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I simply did what any gentleman would. Besides, I’m used to getting asked for things from people I’ve just met,” he replies with a smile.

…………

I have no interest in frivolous love affairs. Two people must have mutual respect for each other when building a relationship. If you ask me, an unplanned single night of fleeting passion is unforgivable and shameless. So—therefore—for this reason alone, it doesn’t matter how popular a fool like Dazai may be, because I am not the least bit jealous or frustrated.

Not the least bit jealous!

***

“What a beautiful, misfortunate woman,” Dazai says with a smirk. We’ve returned to the office to prepare for our next investigation.

“So that’s your type?”

“I like all types of women. They’re the bearers of all human life, a source of mystery. But I do like the fact that Miss Sasaki would probably kill herself with me if I asked.”

“Go marry a cicada or something, then.”

Relations between the sexes must be pure and strong. The only feminine company I intend to keep will be with my ideal spouse, where we complement and lift each other up, and I will be with her until the day I draw my last breath. That is my ideal. It’s also written in my notebook. “What about you, Kunikida? What do you think of Miss Sasaki?”

“She’s a victim and a witness to the case. That’s all.”

“I’m asking only because I can’t even begin to imagine, but…what’s your ideal woman like?”

“You’re free to read about it.”

I open my notebook to the page titled ‘Spouse’ and show him. All my future plans are written here.

“What is this, an encyclopedia?!”

His expression slowly hardens as he skims over the page. “…Whoa. Oh no, no, no… This is just… Wow. I’m…”

“The hell kind of reaction is that? Is it weird?”

“No, not at all. I think all guys can relate to the ideals…of each section.”

“Right? What’s wrong with having standards?”

“Exactly. I agree with you one hundred percent, Kunikida. A word of advice, though: Never show this to a woman. It’d really turn them off. I mean, even I’m struggling to keep myself from yelling ‘A girl like this doesn’t exist!’”

Is it really that far-fetched?

“Okay, I get it. Now let’s get to work and find that kidnapper. By the way, have you found out anything else?”

“There’s one thing I noticed.”

“What’s that?”

“If you truly wish to pursue your ideal woman, then we’re going to have to do something about those boring glasses first.”

Dazai swiftly swipes the glasses off my face, then puts them on. They look awful on him.

“Enough! Give those back!”

So long as my work isn’t hindered, then nothing else matters. Besides, simply wearing nice glasses isn’t going to magically improve my life. And Dazai looks even more comical with them on… Even more ridiculous than usual for some odd reason.

“……Glasses?”

Glasses. The photos of the victims. Their faces. The monitoring equipment. The hotel they stayed in—

“Something the matter, Kunikida?”

The missing people all left the hotel of their own accord, and they all stayed in Yokohama alone. So that means the security footage of everyone entering and leaving the hotel is…

“Come on, Dazai. We’re leaving.”

I snatch my glasses and put them back on.

“I figured out who the kidnapper is.”

***

The ocean breeze soars past the Port of Yokohama. Dazai and I stand on the levee at the mouth by the shore. I gaze into the sky. The sun is already high, peeking through the sea of clouds and shining onto us. I do not feel as fine as the weather, however. A familiar taxi stops before me.

“Detective Kunikida! Please get in.”

A familiar cabdriver waves me over, and we waste no time climbing in. “I apologize for the sudden call.”

“Oh, don’t be. I would go through fire and water for you and the agency, Detective! So are you in a hurry to get somewhere? Don’t you worry! The speed limit means nothing to me!”

“It should. Anyway, do you remember the missing-persons case we spoke of last evening? Well, I figured out who the kidnapper is.”

“What?! I saw the news about the abandoned hospital. I feel so sorry for those poor victims… So we’re going to arrest the kidnapper, yes? Roger that! We have to hurry, though, or he’ll get away. So where is this perpetrator?”

“Right here.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the kidnapper, and inside this taxi is where the kidnappings have been taking place.”

“Uh… I don’t think I’m following you, Detective. What are you saying?”

“I thought, ‘Who would be able to kidnap someone in this city without anyone noticing? Where in Yokohama would a victim be comfortable alone with a complete stranger?’ The answer is here. You used sleeping gas on the victims, then kidnapped them. While wearing a gas mask yourself, of course.”

“Wait… No, no, no. Hold on. I’m pretty sure the investigation indicated that the victims all left of their own accord, by themselves, and mysteriously disappeared. I heard there were no records of them ever getting into any vehicle or going inside any building. If all the victims got into this taxi, then wouldn’t there be a record of a phone call or of them hailing a cab?”

“Yes, there would be. And that’s why there is no doubt in my mind that every victim got into this taxi. Of course, the city police weren’t able to find any records no matter how hard they looked. Why? Because they were looking at the wrong date. The victims didn’t get in this taxi on the day they went missing.”

“What… What are you trying to say?”

“Okay, Kunikida, we’re not going to get anywhere trying to answer each and every one of his questions. Let me explain exactly what happened,” Dazai chimes in. “Driver, you were searching for certain customers during your daily work shift. The conditions for a target were simple: They had to be in Yokohama alone and heading to their hotel, they had to be wearing something that partially covered their face such as a hat, glasses, or sunglasses, and they had to be around the same height as you. You have a small frame, which is why women would be viable candidates as long as they met those few requirements. All of this would make it appear as if you had no relation to the victim, and you could disrupt the investigation.”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t follow. I—”

“Yes, yes. Let me finish first, okay? You’re a taxi driver who operates in the area. Those requirements may be strict, but you’d be able to find someone who matched them in two, three days tops. Then, when just the right person happened to show up, you used sleeping gas on them just like Kunikida mentioned. After that, you went to a secret hideout, held the victims prisoner there, and stole their clothes and belongings. That’s why the victims at the abandoned hospital were in their underwear. Now this is where you really begin to shine.” Dazai claps his hands giddily before continuing. “Next, you dressed in the victim’s clothing and disguised yourself as them. After that, it’s just as you told us last night. All you have to do is put on a little makeup, stuff your cheeks and clothing a bit, and you’re someone else. Of course, you must have religiously practiced and chosen only people you were confident you could pull off, though. Plus, you weren’t trying to deceive people, only video footage. You went to the hotel the victims planned to stay at and purposely made sure the security cameras saw you.”

I think back to the footage I viewed during the investigation. In hindsight, there was an unnaturally high rate of people with their face covered—six in glasses and two in sunglasses. The remaining three had either a hat or long hair, leaving only a portion of their face exposed to the security cameras. This was possible only because he selected victims wearing specific clothing that would be easy to emulate.

“The rest is simple. You leave the victims’ belongings in the hotel room and check out the next morning in broad daylight. By leaving a record of what appears to be the victim entering, checking in, and exiting the hotel, the police would stubbornly focus on investigating what happened to the victim after they left. Naturally, they didn’t find anything, though, since you undoubtedly know Yokohama inside and out. At the very least, you knew where you would be recorded and where you could escape to avoid any security cameras. That’s why the more we investigated, the more it appeared as if the victims intentionally spirited themselves away while making sure there would be no records of it.”

“This is absurd. This hypothetical, purely speculative situation you’re proposing is—is nothing without…without evidence. That’s right—you’ve got no evidence to support your claim.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You would have been more than able to conduct Miss Sasaki’s kidnapping on your own as well,” I continue explaining from where Dazai left off. “Abducting Miss Sasaki after she passed out at the station must have been your easiest job yet. I’ll bet you felt like the luckiest man alive. People usually call an ambulance if they see somebody suddenly faint, but it takes time for the ambulances to arrive from the hospital. But there’s always a taxi waiting in front of the station for passengers, and luckily for Miss Sasaki, a Good Samaritan happened to be present to save her. This well-intentioned individual wanted to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible, so he decided to have a taxi take her. That’s when you took her away, bold as brass, except you didn’t take her to the hospital like you were supposed to.”

“I…”

The driver sounds as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t speak another word. I can’t see his expression clearly from where we’re sitting, either. I shift my gaze to the interior of the car, where I find a few small white particles in one of the crevices. I pinch what I can with my fingertips.

“If you’re going to turn yourself in, you should probably do it quickly. It won’t be long until we have evidence. I’m sure you cleaned the inside of this car, but there’s still some residue from the gas. A lab analysis will confirm it in no time.”

“I… I have no idea where that came from. It must have been from one of my customers. That doesn’t count as evidence.”

The driver barely manages to stammer out the words. Nevertheless, he admitted his guilt the moment he started making excuses.

“Evidence isn’t even necessary to prove you’re the only one who could have done it.” I begin to lay out the basis of the argument. “The only way to use the trick Dazai mentioned would be to get the victims into a taxi, and you had two of the victims in your vehicle, which is no different from admitting you gave rides to the other nine.”

“That isn’t physical evidence, Detective Kunikida,” the driver plainly states while avoiding eye contact. “Everything you’ve presented has been circumstantial evidence. It’s not as if you found a weapon in my house or have video evidence of me committing a crime. Sure, you could file charges, but I wouldn’t be convicted.”

It’s my turn to fall silent. He’s right. We would need physical evidence to connect him to the victims: blood, fingerprints, video recordings, a confession with information only the criminal would know…

We don’t have the necessary hard evidence. In fact, our case could be dismissed due to a lack of probable cause as things stand now. From the way the driver’s talking, it sounds like he made sure to dispose of all the physical evidence. He’s cleverer than I thought. What’s my next move?

But what he says next completely disproves my assumptions.

“Detective Kunikida… Let’s make a deal. If you accept my conditions, I will turn myself in.”

“What?”

“I would like the Armed Detective Agency to protect me and guarantee my safety in return for my confession. I request only seventy-two hours of your time until I receive witness protection following the prosecutorial investigation.”

“A witness protection deal? What are you talking about?”

“There’s no time… I’m going to be killed. They’re going to kill me.”

“Wait. I’m not following. Tell me step-by-step what’s going on. Who’s going to kill you? And for what?!”

“I wish I never did business with that lot… I should have never tried to get into the organ-trafficking business alone! And now I’ve made them angry! This is bad… This is really bad. I can’t get in touch with any of the buyers, either. They’ve cut me loose! But why? They were never supposed to find out… But they’re already onto me. And they’re getting closer…”

“I see. So that’s what’s going on here.” Dazai places a hand on his chin and nods.

“Dazai, what’s going on?! What is he rambling about?!”

“It’s exactly how it sounds. He was selling the victims to an organ- trafficking syndicate, but the month’s supply rose too high relative to demand. Naturally, this led to a drop in prices, throwing the market into confusion. Imagine a private one-man business suddenly entering a supply market more or less controlled by a large corporation. How would the large corporation feel?”

“They would get mad, I guess?”

“It would be healthy competition if these were normal, legal companies. But these organ-trafficking businesses are run by underground groups who profit off blood and violence. Causing trouble on their turf would only anger—”

The next moment, the car is suddenly hit, then hit again so hard its wheels leave the ground. A high-pitched echo follows. The taxi’s right side lifts into the air as the windows shatter along with the sound of gunshots.

“We’re under fire! Get down!” I yell out.

The car rocks back and forth as if being pummeled with a hammer, and shards of glass rain down inside.

“It’s them! H-help, help me… I don’t wanna die!”

“Hey! Wait!”

The driver opens the car door before bolting in the opposite direction of the gunfire.

“Kunikida, we have to catch him before the enemy does, or we’ll never know what really happened! We can’t let him escape or turn up dead in a grove somewhere!” Dazai shouts, keeping his head down. That’s easier said than done, though! “Okay, I’ll go after the driver! You distract the enemies!”

“Dazai, wait! It’s too dangerous to go alone!”

Dazai darts out of the car without even listening to my warning. I can’t allow a rookie to go off on his own during his first shoot-out. We don’t have any other options, though. I curse to myself while getting a look at the enemy. Three men stand dressed in black suits and black sunglasses, equipped with submachine guns smuggled in from abroad via the black market. Judging from their attire, their skills, and their ruthless willingness to suddenly turn the place into a war zone, it’s clear who they are…

“Damn it! This couldn’t be any worse… It’s the Port Mafia!”

The Port Mafia is an underground organization that uses the Port of Yokohama as their base of operations. They’re the cruelest, most coldhearted criminal syndicate in the city, willing to follow any orders from their boss and crush all who oppose them. The three men here are from that organization. The longer this goes on, the more they have the advantage.

“The Matchless Poet: Stun Grenade!”

I record the word in my notebook before tearing it out. The sheet of paper twists into a grenade the size of my fist. Aiming at the group, I hurl the grenade out the broken window. Stun grenades are nonlethal sonic weapons used to temporarily disorient an enemy’s senses. It blows up right in front of them, emitting a light so bright and creating an explosion so thunderous that it could give a sick man a heart attack. They fall to their knees while covering their temples, perhaps completely taken by surprise at being countered with a flashbang. I use this momentary distraction to leap out of the taxi and charge the enemies. I elbow the man closest to me in the neck, knocking him to the ground. I keep my elbow out and charge the next criminal, following up with a high kick to the face. The last armed man tries to hit me with his gun, but I swerve to the side, evading the strike. As he staggers off-balance, I grab his wrist and twist while pulling inside. Then I throw him into the air with a four- corner throw. The Mafia member goes flying and lands cranium first, immediately losing consciousness.

“Good grief.”

After making sure they’re all out, I walk back to the taxi.

I really hope Dazai’s all right…

Just then, I suddenly sense an ever-increasing thirst for blood coming from behind. Something flies past my side before I can even turn around. The black torrent runs through right where I was just standing, hitting the taxi and cutting right through it, too. As the vehicle completely splits in half, springs and shafts take to the air, scattering every which way. Without even a moment to let my surprise sink in, I kick off the ground to evade. The nearby sign and handrails are finely sliced into pieces. After rolling across the ground and looking back, I see a small-framed man clad in black in the distance.

“Cough, cough…”

That must be the source of the bloodlust.

“Cough… I came thinking this was going to be an easy side job. I wasn’t expecting to run into someone skilled enough to neutralize three men in the blink of an eye. I’m impressed. Now let’s see how you fare against Rashomon.”

With no weapon in hand, the young man simply walks toward me with his back hunched, occasionally coughing. However, the malice oozing from his body soon transforms into a silent but furious storm.

A man short of stature dressed in a black overcoat, with the skill to control a black torrent—the Port Mafia’s Hellhound.

“You… You’re Ryuunosuke Akutagawa from the Port Mafia, aren’t you?”

“The one and only. I was sent here by the boss to dispose of the fool who trespassed on our turf. Where is he?”

“He’s not here. He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs.”

I point in the direction the driver ran, but my eyes remain locked on Akutagawa. I don’t look away—not even for a second. This man is the worst of the worst. Even the toughest criminals run away in tears when they hear Akutagawa’s despicable name. The Black-Fanged Hellhound, the Skill User of Destruction and Disaster, the Apostle of Calamity and Despair: There are too many aliases to count. This is my first time actually meeting him, but judging by what he did to the taxi, he’s even more dangerous than the rumors made him out to be.

So what’s my next move? It’s simple. His target is the kidnapper, and there’s no reason for me to risk my life to protect a kidnapper against someone this dangerous. All I need to do is back off.

“He’s a witness. I cannot allow you to kill him until he tells us where the other missing people are. If you want to go after him, you’re going to have to get past me first.”

“You’re willing to risk your life for a murderer? Just as I expected.”

Damn it. I can’t believe how stupid I can be. But as a member of the Armed Detective Agency, I cannot allow our witness to be helplessly killed by this scumbag.

Do what must be done. I mentally recite the phrase from my notebook. Akutagawa’s black overcoat wriggles. It’s as if a thousand specters gathered and meshed, taking form. It’s no longer a coat; part of it transforms into a claw, while another part begins to take the shape of a piercing fang.

“Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, the Port Mafia’s attack dog.”

“Doppo Kunikida, Armed Detective Agency.”

Akutagawa launches a shadowy blade in one explosive motion. It disperses into a black rain, heading right in my direction. I jump to the side. A few dark blades pierce my shirt while the others stab the wall behind me, leaving numerous holes. I jot down a word in my notebook and tear out the sheet before he can draw his blade to attack. The piece of paper instantly transforms into a wire gun. Squeezing the trigger, I shoot the hook…but moments before the iron-penetrating hook reaches him, it’s deflected by an invisible wall.

“What…?!”

I saw no signs of him moving to defend. Is this another one of his skills? Before I can even reel in my airborne hook, part of Akutagawa’s coat transforms into a shadowy beast. With a roar, it swings its head. It’s quick!

I twist away to dodge, but its fangs tear into my left shoulder. Blood spurts out of the wound, but I don’t have time to stop the bleeding. I step back while evading the beast’s relentless fangs. I have no chance to counter, let alone even get near the thing!

“Is running away the only thing you know how to do? You’re putting me to sleep,” he scoffs, still standing upright. A cold bead of sweat runs down my cheek. He’s strong.

Akutagawa speedily shoots his lethal shadowy blade at me from only a few feet away, giving me no chance to do anything other than dodge. To make matters worse, any projectile I throw at him is easily knocked aside. Even if I do hit him, he’s being protected by that mysterious force field. He has no openings.

I dodge the flurry of attacks until I land on a paved road, where a sudden unidentifiable chill eerily shoots down my spine.

A blade thrusts up from the pavement before shooting back into the air like a fountain of spears.

He was getting me to focus on the aerial attacks while he used another blade to pierce the ground! I try to turn my body and jump away, but the ground is uneven, and I’m too late. The pitch-black blade penetrates my side and exits through my back.

“Gah…!”

My vision blurs from the excruciating pain, and I helplessly fall to my knees. This isn’t good. The next attack is coming. If I stop moving for even a second, I’m dead…but there’s nothing I can do. The black fabric of Rashomon wraps around my neck, lifting me off the ground. It bends like a serpent’s neck, then catapults me into the nearby wall.

“Pathetic. I guess I shouldn’t have expected much from a detective agency that works for chump change. Don’t worry. It’ll all be over when I snap your head off.”

The black fabric tightens around my neck. I start to see red.

“There’s always someone—someone who wants…to get in the way of my work!”

As Akutagawa’s skill strangles me, I shoot my wire gun. My target isn’t Akutagawa, though. The airborne iron wire’s hook directly hits the water pipe running up the building next to him, showering him with water.

“What…?!”

He raises his arm to block, but the high-pressure stream fully drenches him and the ground around him.

“Fool. Do you really think a little water is going to scare me?”

I raise another sheet of paper in my left hand into the air with something else I wrote down while making the wire gun.

“The Matchless Poet: Stun Gun!”

I instantly turn on the handheld high-voltage stun gun before tossing it into the puddle of water. A flash of light shoots out, and sparks fly.

“Nnng—gaaah?!”

Using the water as a conductor, the submerged stun gun emits beams of violet and white light. A purple flash of lightning jolts through Akutagawa’s wet body like a boa constrictor wrapping around its prey. The flash shines as bright as the sun before eventually disappearing along with the hiss of steam and the crack of the ground splitting under it. Rashomon’s grip around my neck loosens, and I land on the pavement below. As I cradle my injured neck and side, I glare at Akutagawa. He’s on his knees as steam and white smoke rise from his body.

“Heh-heh… Ah-ha-ha-ha!”

Akutagawa’s shoulders shake as he laughs. He can still move after taking a shock like that?

“Looks like I was wrong about the Armed Detective Agency. Heh. This is wonderful. Truly wonderful.”

“…Come at me if you want to keep going. I still have plenty more paper left.” I force myself to my feet, then get back into stance with the wire gun.

“By all means, I would love the opportunity to see whether you have what it takes to kill me, but it seems we have guests.”

I follow Akutagawa’s gaze and see the city police approach with their sirens blazing. Somebody must have reported the gunshots.

“A pathetic traitor won’t be able to hide for long before we hunt him down. I will withdraw for today. We’ll continue this soon.” He coughs and turns his back to me. He leaves just like that, with the same nonchalance as if he was going home after a walk. Honestly speaking, continuing to fight and withdrawing probably aren’t too different from his point of view.

“I’d rather you not come back…”

I fall to my knees while watching him walk away. Akutagawa from the Port Mafia is just as— No, he’s even fiercer than the rumors say. No thanks on the rematch. For now, I just want to go home and sleep like the dead.

***

Unfortunately, this is no time for a nap. After a short break, I return to the agency to report what happened. In the company’s infirmary, I have my stomach wound temporarily patched up, then head to the office. That’s where I find Dazai sipping on some tea as if he was relaxing after a hard day’s work.

“Dazai, you caught the taxi driver, right?”

“Of course. I tied him right up and handed him off to the police. He was actually thrilled that the Mafia wouldn’t be able to assassinate him anymore.” I’m relieved. It appears Dazai isn’t as stupid as I originally thought. I was almost worried that he knew it was the Mafia attacking us and used chasing the kidnapper as an excuse to escape. Nevertheless, everything ended up working out, so I guess it was just a groundless fear.

“It looks like the taxi driver will be charged for the series of kidnappings. Case closed.”

I worked my fingers to the bone on this case, and in return, I get paid nothing. The military police will toss us a letter of thanks and a small gift as an expression of their gratitude, and that will be the end of it. Good grief.

“I don’t feel like working anymore. Let’s get today’s tasks over with and go out for a drink.”

“Your treat?” Dazai asks, beaming with joy.

“You’re a real piece of work. I’ll pay, but you better work your ass off tomorrow.”

I return to my desk and take care of my remaining duties. I skim through some documents that are being passed around, then make a few business calls. After that, I start recording the case’s details until inadvertently glancing at my work computer and noticing I got an e-mail. Paying little attention, I begin to follow the sentences with my eyes. After finishing the e- mail, I start over from the beginning.

“Dazai.”

The moment I call for him is the moment I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

“We’ll have to take a rain check on those drinks. We’ve got work to do.” “Whaaat? But I was all ready to drink. There’s a hole in my stomach shaped exactly like a cup of sake.”

“We got a job offer…from the anonymous client who lured us into the abandoned hospital.”

My throat is dry, and my tongue is stuck in place. The next words don’t want to come out.

“It’s a request to defuse a bomb. If we don’t find and defuse it by sundown tomorrow, over one hundred people will die.”

***

#Bungo Stray Dogs #Bungou Stray Dogs #BSD #Bungo Stray Dogs Light Novels #Light Novel #Light Novel Volume 1 #Osamu Dazai's Entrance Exam #Armed Detective Agency #Port Mafia #Kafka Asagiri #Sango Harukawa

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soukokuwu · 4 years

Note

hi rachel, i love ur work. i was wondering if u could pls write an angst to fluff scenario for ada dazai w a fem s/o. it’s always been a huge fear of mine to get cheated on because my parents never had the best relationship. i was wondering if u could write something about the reader talking w dazai about it and him initially thinking she doesn’t doesn’t trust him because of his past, but it actually being due to hers? sweet ending? tysm and i hope u have a good week !! much love

Dazai Osamu

➥ slight angst to fluff

➥ dazai x reader

➥ word count: 1.7k

➥ a/n: i’m sorry this took a long while, hopefully you’re still here, & i’m sorry to hear about that! my parents don’t have the best relationship either so i hope you’re doing okay 🤍

Your masks & mine

Insecurity kills all that is beautiful.

In this moment, you’ve never felt it to be more true. In this moment, as you look at the man you love, getting googly-eyes from the bartender. In this moment, you feel the fear, the anger, the upset, all creeping up on you. In this moment, even as the man you love has no one in his eyes but you.

It isn’t fair. This isn’t fair to him.

You try to talk yourself into concentrating on the conversation at hand. It’s something about Kunikida forcing Dazai to do things he didn’t feel like again. But even as you try your best, his voice sounds muffled at best. You continue to sip on your wine, your own thoughts eating you up.

Random memories flash across your mind.

That time when Dazai first brought you into the office and introduced you as his girlfriend. The look of shock on everyone’s faces you did not miss. They recovered quickly, but it still worried you.

That time when you were helping him with some paperwork, when he left to go to the restroom and only you and Atsushi were there. The weretiger had asked how you were doing, being with someone as suicidal as he. That wasn’t your concern though, because you already knew how Dazai felt about life and death. No. What concerned you was when Atsushi had so casually remarked on how astonishing it was that Dazai would even find a girlfriend, given his womanising nature.

A bandaged hand waves in front of your face.

Dazai asks if you’re alright, and what other answer is there than “I’m fine”? So you say it anyway, even if it’s an obvious lie.

And there it is again — Dazai believing you. Going back to the previous conversation. Not even so much as an “are you sure?” You know what he’s like — Kunikida and the others have always given his mind praise, even if his work attitude seems to be a total miss. They always mention how he’s able to see through people and their lies, how he’s always one step ahead of everyone else.

Then why? Why, if he truly was able to see through you — and you’re sure he can — why does he leave you be? Does he not care? Did he already know somehow and doesn’t bother to say a thing?

Images of your parents flash in your mind. The fake smiles, the happy charades, the “joyous” moments you thought you would all be able to recreate. You remember your mother smiling through the nights your father didn’t come back. You remember how tirelessly she worked for you, to support you. You remember her coming back after work, all despondent, but putting on an act the moment you came out of your room. But you knew, of course, that she was putting on a mask.

A mask — just like your father did.

When he came back smelling like women’s perfume, and your mother didn’t even question him. When he rarely came back at all sometimes, and she greeted him all the same. When he got angry and told her she didn’t even look like a woman to him anymore. But the moment you came out? There they were again — the masks. Your parents would hug each other and assure you everything was alright, giving each other pecks on the cheeks.

And just like your mother, you ignored the problem. Because you were afraid. Afraid of what might happen if it’s confronted.

But everyone breaks. And so did your family.

The masks never helped — they were but a hindrance. The masks they wore made them unhappy for years, unhappy ever since you were a kid. Those masks, those cursed masks, delayed their happiness.

A mask — just like Dazai always wears.

That thick comedic mask of his. Is there anything else he hides? He’s much more intelligent than you are; even if there is, you certainly wouldn’t be able to tell.

No, no, you convince yourself. He’s not anything like your father, he’s not wishy-washy, especially not when it comes to relationships. If he doesn’t like you, he won’t even bother. You’d be able to tell. So why? Why is the fear still here?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dazai’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. A worried expression is plastered on his face, and only then do you realise you’ve started tearing up. Your mind tries to think up excuses to mask your insecurities — and then you realise it’s you. You’re the one with a mask on this entire time. You’re the one who’s afraid to voice out your feelings. You’re the one not being fair by not being truthful with the man you love.

And you find this laughable. If you truly love him, why are you so afraid?

In a moment of panic, you run out the bar doors, never looking back. Not even when you hear his footsteps hurriedly chase after you, not even when you start to get drenched in the downpour, not even when you hear him yell out for you. You just know you hate yourself in this moment, and that you definitely don’t deserve someone like him. He’s always tried his best to be open with you about everything — his thoughts, his attempts. But you? You hide behind your walls, and then you even try to blame him for not attempting to break them down, when in reality, he’s just trying to give you space in case you feel uncomfortable. You know that. Why do you shield yourself so?

Dazai isn’t the despicable one here, so is it you?

You shut people away, then blame them for not coming close. You yell at the voices in your head to stop, but you’re the one making them. You blame yourself for everything, yet you still do nothing to change it. You —

An embrace from behind steals all the strength from your knees and you buckle to the ground, your wails — and your thoughts — being drowned out by the sound of the cars driving past. You choke out an apology to Dazai for being like this, and your heart aches when you realise he’s not even mad. The tone in his voice is just that of concern; his embrace nothing but warm and comforting. And as you force yourself to turn back and look into his hazelnut eyes, all you see is love.

“Let me take you back, okay?” Dazai tells you, his brown hair sticking to his face in this rain, his smile nothing but genuine as he looks down and waits for you to answer. In that moment, you know he’d do anything for you. Even if it is something this trivial, like squatting in this pouring rain and listening to you rant — he’d do it.

And as you nod, his smile gets a little wider and he presses his lips on your forehead.

“My precious belladonna.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You realise then, that your biggest insecurity is that Dazai would view you how you viewed yourself.

Your parents didn’t have the greatest relationship, and you blame yourself for it. And god knows why. But it makes you feel like you ruin relationships, that it’s because of you that they put on those masks in the first place. If you weren’t there, maybe they could’ve been happier sooner. But who can tell? Because what’s happened happened. And you still blame yourself.

But your fears prove redundant, because Dazai doesn’t feel the least bit repulsed that you are feeling insecure over the smallest (in your own words) things.

You spill the beans as soon as you’re both changed out into more comfortable, dry clothes. The heavy downpour caused a power outage, but neither of you cared. In the spill of the moonlight, Dazai holds you in his arms as he listens to you, in a way to shield you from how concerned he looks as he does. He did guess it has to do with your family, but never did he consider that you blame yourself this much.

He regrets not pursuing the matter, not asking you about it. He had assumed you needed time alone to get over it, that maybe it’s something personal you wanted to handle yourself. And so he tries his best to really listen to you tonight.

Dazai doesn’t understand, no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t understand how it feels like to miss a happy family. His life has been enshrouded in darkness since he can remember. At least, until he joined the agency, where the light started peeking into his abyss. And it got even stronger the moment he met you.

There is one thing he understands, though.

When you say you ruin everything you touch. Every relationship, you ruin it. Even if you don’t mean to. And you lose people because you just aren’t enough. It reminds Dazai of someone who was once dear to him, but he shrugs the feeling away. Now, in this moment, he needs to be there for you, to be strong for you. And he smiles thinking of the reason — because he loves you.

This mask, the one he wears this time, the strong front he puts on — this one's for you.

“My lovely belladonna,” he whispers in your ear once you’re finished. You look up at him once more, and it’s like there’s even more love in his brown orbs. “I promise you, I will never do anything like that to you. I will always be honest with you, because I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

It’s true, because you’re different from other people. Not that Dazai is going to pour his feelings out and explain it to you, because it doesn’t come naturally to him, but a fire is burning within him; a strong desire to make sure you know you’re loved, and that he’d always try to make you happy.

Your masks have finally come off, and Dazai can see the relief in your eyes as they do. He presses his forehead against yours, and gazes at you, praying that you can feel his sincerity in his words.

“I’m sure your parents never blamed you for anything, and that you’re actually the light of their life, the one regret they never had, because I feel the same,” he assures you, his voice low and steady. “I love you, and I will put everything I have into never letting you down, for the rest of my life.”

“The rest of your life?”

You can hardly believe it. Dazai hardly makes promises about anything, let alone anything to do with the future. And yet here he is, putting his all into making sure you wouldn’t feel like this anymore.

“The rest of my life.”

And he does.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bsd oneshot #bsd scenarios #bsd x reader #rachwrote #bsd dazai x reader #bsd dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd angst #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs x reader

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patchwork-panda · 4 years

Text

If A Moment Is All We Are (3/?)

TW (3): This chapter contains a mention of:

1) intrusive thoughts and suicidal ideation (Dazai dialogue). 2) fair amount of blood and physical violence in the form of guns, explosions and slashing injuries, as a "fight" chapter. 3) some descriptions of physical injury including broken bones and slash wounds. I tried not to let it be too graphic. Please proceed with caution.

For those who prefer AO3 format: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121633/chapters/58072957

“Excuse me!”

The woman who now sat at the table, the one the old balding cop had vacated, looked up at me with a friendly, questioning gaze.

“Yes?”

I slammed my hands down on the counter, startling her into dropping her pen, and pushed my sketch of the green snake tattoo towards her.

“I need to make a report!”

“W-what sort of report?” she asked unsteadily, looking me up and down.

I could tell she was already evaluating my credibility but I had to listen to Detective Dazai. It was my only shot at saving Mrs. Yamazaki. I sat down in the same chair I had been in earlier and looked her right in the eye, my voice barely shaking as I gave her a slightly less nonsensical version of the story I had told her colleague earlier. When I finished, I got to my feet and bowed as low as I could.

“I’m not making any of this up and this is not a prank!” I exclaimed, head still bowed. “I, as a concerned citizen, am asking you, a member of the Yokohama Military Police for help. I’m begging you, ma’am: please, listen to me!”

“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, waving her hands in the air as her colleagues turned to look at us. “I’ll listen to you! Please, sit down.”

Relieved, I sat. My legs were still shaking as I watched her get out a pen and a piece of paper and only when she started asking me for more details and slowly filling out her form was I finally able to breathe freely again.

It worked. I couldn’t believe it. That crazy detective’s advice had worked.

I was elated. I half-thought I was going to start crying with relief when the officer suddenly looked up and shot an anxious look out the window. Curious, I turned behind me and to my surprise, I saw Detectives Dazai (looking miraculously unhurt) and Kunikida passing by the station and going back across the street from whence they came. Seeing the recognition on my face, she turned to me with an odd look in her eye.

“Kusunoki-san,” she said, reading off her form. “Do you... know those two men? I thought I saw you talking to them earlier when I started my shift.”

“Not really?” I said, thinking back. “I mean, kind of? Armed Detective Agency, right? I actually talked to them about this earlier. Oh, but don’t worry! They insisted I talk to the police first before they got involved. They said that would be best.”

The officer looked contemplative.

“Yes, I would have to agree.” She frowned. “If they manage to solve your case before we do, again, my whole department would be completely humiliated. No, we can’t have that...”

She tapped her pen on the table as she thought to herself.

“Honestly, I have a few more questions I’d like to ask you, but I can’t ask them here.”

Once again, she looked behind her before motioning me forward, her expression grim. I scooted towards her in my chair, feeling slightly unsettled by the look on her face.

“W-why not?” I asked quietly.

“I know the man you’re looking for,” she whispered. “I believe he is a member of the Port Mafia.”

Not knowing who the Port Mafia was, I shrugged and her jaw hit the floor.

“You don’t know who the Port Mafia is?” I shook my head and she started laughing. “Wait, are you serious? What are you, some kind of shut-in? You don’t read the news?!”

As she sat there, laughing uproariously at her own joke, I twitched, trying to force a smile on my face as I waited for her to settle down.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” she sighed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Alright, let me tell you something about them since you don’t seem to know. The Port Mafia has been operating in Yokohama for decades. Decades. They have eyes and ears everywhere, perhaps even in this very police station. I want to ask you more but it’s not safe to do it here.”

She scribbled something down on a piece of paper and pushed it towards me.

“Meet me on the top floor of the South Pier Art Gallery in two hours. We’ll talk then.”

***

The rest had been a blur. I’d gone home, celebrated my win with a steaming hot bowl of ramen (topped with some of the veggies Mrs. Yamazaki had foisted on me) and watched some new seasonal shoujo anime titles to pass the time. Then, I took the train to the edge of town, found the gallery and blithely took the spiral staircase up to the top floor where they housed the stained glass window collection, not knowing what lay ahead. Not five minutes after I’d arrived, the young man named Akutagawa had appeared, killed the two curators lying on the far side of the room and blocked the way into the main entrance. When I ran for the fire escape instead, I found myself face-to-face with none other than Detective Dazai, who pointed a gun at me and instructed me to turn back around to face Akutagawa.

As I stood with my hands in the air, cold sweat running down my neck and my pathetic life hanging in the balance, I heard Dazai say something to me in a low, hushed voice.

“Sorry... this isn’t what I meant when I asked if you were doing anything later.”

As the memory of our encounter on the street floated back to me, something stirred to life deep inside my chest, something stronger than the panic that had been choking me since the start of this whole thing... It felt like anger.

“Is that right?” I asked. My voice was shaking but the words kept coming out. “You mean dates with you don’t usually end with somebody getting shot? What exactly did you have in mind then?”

“Oh? Are you interested after all?”

His tone was still light-hearted and flirtatious but I could sense his hesitancy; the gun against my skull pulled back just a fraction and for a second, there was hope. What if the gun fell away from my head entirely? Would I be able to make a run for it, make it back to my apartment in one piece? Akutagawa might try to rip my limbs off and I might still get shot at but what if I tried...?

Dazai didn’t say anything else; he was clearly waiting for my answer. I should tell him yes, maybe then he would feel less tempted to shoot me (why hadn’t he done so already?). However, something about the idea of spending more time in the company of this madman (that is, if I did manage to leave the gallery alive) was more nauseating than the smell of blood permeating the room.

“Not at all,” I replied coolly, “I don’t date guys who are two seconds away from blowing my head off.”

This time, it was Dazai’s turn to laugh.

“Well then,” Dazai mused, “Would it make you feel better to know I’d be joining you right after?”

I actually scoffed.

“What are you proposing, a double suicide?!”

“If you’d like.”

“You have a terrible sense of humor, Detective.”

I wasn’t sure if he could hear me over the deep growls coming from across the room. The monster coming out of Akutagawa’s cloak swayed slowly from side to side, clearly looking for an opening. Akutagawa hadn’t moved a muscle in some time but somehow this didn’t make me feel more comfortable. The sun was starting to set, the colors of the stained glass windows around us gradually darkening, making that cold, calculating gaze and quiet anger coming from the entrance more menacing than ever. Fruitlessly, I weighed my options again, looking around to see if there were any routes, any at all, that I could take to leave the gallery with my life. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find even one. I sighed, my shoulders dropping, that spark of hope fading with the last light of the sun.

“It was Dazai-san, right? Can I ask you a question?”

He didn’t answer, so I continued anyway.

“You talk about suicide so casually... You’re not afraid of dying?”

“Not really. It’s pain and suffering I’m afraid of, but dying?”

Dazai was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded peaceful, hopeful even.

“No. I think about Death so often that it’s as familiar as an old friend to me now. Finally getting to die... It would be comforting, almost like coming home.”

“Huh...”

Flashes of my previous life appeared before my eyes, from more recent to further back... Mrs. Yamazaki bleeding out, alone in her own darkened living room room. A young man’s body flying high into the air after an untimely collision with a speeding black car. The shadow of a burning building on the water’s edge, down by the pier, windows shattering as it was rocked by a sudden explosion...

And finally, an image of a ghoul, staring back at me from just outside my own darkened windows, with long, black hair cut in the same style as my own, drops of blood instead of tears falling down her cheeks, staining the fingertips she touched to them, the blackness of her pupils deep like bottomless wells... As I stared into my own haunted reflection that night, the night before I stopped going to class, I heard it—the darkness within calling out to me, the intrusive thoughts that tempted me to jump when I looked out through the windows of tall buildings...

I heard a distant roar. The shadow monster commanded by Akutagawa surged forward, jaws stretched wide and at the last moment, I turned my head to look Detective Dazai in the face. I smiled.

“I understand.”

Dazai stared at me.

“You do...?”

Without warning, an explosive force shook the gallery, enveloping me in clouds of thick, acrid smoke. I heard a crack and coughing violently, I looked down just in time to see the patterned floor below me give way, the cheap carpeting disintegrating beneath my very feet. There was no time for me to scream or think. I fell into the void below, my watering eyes catching one final glimpse of Akutagawa’s pale face, twisted in anger, as the darkness claimed me.

Wind rushed past my ears. I could feel myself picking up speed and I covered my head, wondering if tucking myself into a ball might mean less broken bones when I finally hit the bottom floor.

But I had stopped falling.

I was caught on something sturdy, with long, dense, wiry limbs. A tree? No, trees weren’t this warm... and they didn’t smell like gun smoke, books and ink...

“Got you,” someone grunted from just above me and I realized I’d fallen not onto a tree, but right into a man’s arms. I pushed my tangled bangs out of my face and looked up.

“Kunikida-san?!”

“I’ll explain later,” he gruffly, crouching down and setting my feet on the ground as the lights around us snapped back on. “We have to go, now! Can you run?”

No sooner had I nodded than he grabbed my wrist, his fingers closing over the fabric of my jacket, and tugged me after him, wasting no time in tearing off down the nearest corridor as soon as he was sure I could stand. Paintings whizzed by as we ran, abstract portraits blurring into colorful landscapes as we raced down the hall, my wrist locked in the detective’s iron grip. I could hear gunfire and yells, occasionally an otherworldly roar echoing from the top floor and I shuddered and pushed myself to run faster, to put more distance between myself and the beast making those horrible shrieks. As we ran past the spiral staircase to the corner of the central gallery, I abruptly realized the explosion had taken me from the top floor to the second—that much closer to safety...

Just when I thought my legs were going to give out, Kunikida abruptly stopped at the end of the corridor and I almost crashed right into him. His head jerked up and I caught a flash of green from the exit sign reflected on his glasses as he barked his next command.

“This way!”

I was brusquely yanked forward again, Kunikida’s long ponytail nearly smacking me in the face as he dragged me into a stairwell, the walls and steps narrow and lined with cement.

“We’re going down. Hurry!” he ordered, finally letting go of my aching wrist.

Ignoring the burning in my legs, I bolted down the stairs as quickly as I could, the tall detective hot on my heels as a crack echoed above us, like fireworks exploding in our confined chamber. Instinct took over and I ducked, throwing a hand over my head as I felt projectiles whiz past my shoulder.

“Get up!” Kunikida shouted and I obeyed, the sight of freshly gouged bullet holes on the wall ahead of me spurring me on. I was almost at the ground floor when I heard gunshots from very close behind. At once, I realized Kunikida was not with me and I whirled to see him several meters away at the turn, firing a small handgun up the stairs.

“Kunikida-san?” I called up, dashing back to him.

“Don’t come any closer!” he cried.

A sharp pain ripped into my cheek, tearing off bits of my hair and splattering my clothes with hot blood. I could feel the blood dripping down my neck in rivulets as I squeezed myself back into the corner and out of the way, a fresh hail of bullets raining down on us from above. I heard excited shouting; someone had followed us, their heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs—

“It’s the Port Mafia. You have to go!” Kunikida hollered, the echo of his voice nearly overwhelmed by the cacophony of more bullets firing into the stairwell. The impact scattered rubble everywhere and forcing me to guard my eyes.

“What about you?!” I cried.

“I’ll be fine!” he shouted. “Just get to the lobby, now!”

Red bloomed in the shoulder of his beige vest. He stumbled and pushed himself further back into the corner of the alcove, his bloodied hand reaching into his shirt vest and pulling out a small, lightly-bound olive green notebook. There was a determined look in his eye.

“What are you waiting for? Go!”

He ripped a page out of the notebook and I was suddenly blinded by a flash of green light. An enormous explosion rocked the stairwell and I stumbled to the ground as smoke flooded the air.

“Kunikida-san?!”

There was no answer. I pushed myself to my feet, staring in horror at the spot where he’d been.

“Kunikida-san...”

Was he dead? Had he died defending me?!

Frozen, I stood there, utter shock pulsing through me as my cheek continued to drip blood onto my blouse. But all too soon, the sound of footsteps began to pound down the stairs, snapping me out of my daze and I uprooted my feet, following Kunikida’s last order and made for the door to the lobby.

I had to live. If Kunikida was really dead, living was the only way to make sure his sacrifice was not in vain. Living meant I was saved.

Throwing my shoulder against the heavy door, I burst into the lobby. To my relief, a quick glance around the ground floor assured me that the lobby was deserted, with no security guards and no trench-coat-clad figures with guns anywhere in sight. Taking one last, regretful look behind me at the stairs, I immediately sprinted for the front doors.

“Hold it, Prophet.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a ribbon of black and red streak towards me. Before I knew what had hit me, something slashed deeply into my left leg and I hit the floor with a sharp cry of pain, the back of my thigh burning like it was on fire. I could feel the warmth of my own blood pouring out of the wound, pooling on the ground and soaking wetly into my ripped jeans. As I struggled to get up, I heard Akutagawa’s voice again.

“Surrender.”

Somehow, he’d gotten past Dazai and Kunikida. Or maybe the Port Mafia had already finished both of them off, giving Akutagawa a clear path to me... Gritting my teeth, I got up, staggering a little as I stood, my eyes meeting with Akutagawa’s cold gray ones. My legs felt weak. I could tell that I’d been cut very deeply but I continued running for the doors, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I made a bee-line for the dim light of the setting sun outside.

“Don’t ignore me.”

There was an unearthly roar and something hit the ground where my right foot had been barely a millisecond before, sending small chunks of flooring flying into the air as I dodged Akutagawa’s attacks. For one brilliant, shining second, I thought I was going to make it—my fingers brushed against the glass and metal front doors—

“Rashoumon! Higanzakura!”

Black and red wires tightened around my throat, wrenching me away from the exit before I could push open the doors and lifting me high into the air. I could barely breathe and I scrabbled against my bonds in vain, the skin of my palms and fingers stinging and bleeding with every attempt to pry the coils off of me.

What was this thing made of?!

Through watering and narrowed eyes, I watched as Akutagawa approached in measured steps, his hands in his pockets, that cold, impassive face coming closer with every passing moment.

“You run pretty fast for an injured girl, I’ll admit. Unfortunately for you, I was ordered to capture you. And I don’t intend to fail.”

The weight around my throat suddenly became crushing. Spots appeared before my eyes and I fought to stay conscious as the last gasp of air was squeezed out of me. Akutagawa’s ragged, darkened form faded in and out of sight.

No! I can’t die here...!

I clawed harder at the thing holding me, desperation setting in. I’d escaped him once before, I had to do it again...! Kunikida might have died for me and if I died now, Mrs. Yamazaki didn’t have a prayer. I needed to make sure she was really saved...! I needed to live!

I watched helplessly, my arms losing strength as another tendril of darkness grew out of Akutagawa’s black coat. Crackling with energy, its shape twisted to become flat and angular until I realized I was staring at an enormous scythe.

“Dazai-san guessed correctly. My orders were to capture you alive. However, whether or not you need to be completely whole was not discussed. I don’t think the boss will care if I cut off your legs. If I do that, you’ll never be able to run away from us ever again.”

“No...”

My voice came out as nothing more than a weak gasp. Unable to hear me, he drew the scythe back in preparation.

“Don’t!”

There were several loud bangs and the vise around my neck abruptly loosened. I felt a rush of wind above me as I fell through the air, shuddering as I landed on my injured leg, which buckled sickeningly beneath me, leaving me in a bloody heap on the floor. Rubbing my throat as I coughed, trying to bring fresh air back into my lungs, I looked up to see Kunikida, bloodied but alive and well, firing a small handgun from behind a large metal sculpture at Akutagawa. He had been forced to retract the demon and was instead raising it as a shield to defend himself against the blonde detective’s onslaught. His pale hand was spattered with red as he clutched at his shoulder, blood coursing down the back of his black robe and dripping at his feet.

I could barely believe it; Kunikida had saved me once again.

I watched him dive out of the way as Akutagawa sliced up the sculpture with his black sickle and duck behind another statue, firing constantly out of his small hand gun. Sparks flew as he traded blows with Akutagawa and he shot at Akutagawa until I heard the hollow clicking of his gun; he was out of bullets. Gritting his teeth, he flung it out of the way. There was another flash of green light and within moments, he was firing at Akutagawa again.

As they fought, I scanned my surroundings again, trying not to think about the amount of blood I was losing, wondering if any backup was coming. Kunikida was holding his own but with no one on the way, he couldn’t last long. I tried to pull myself to my feet and almost immediately slipped back down.

There on the floor, amidst the splatters of blood, was a soft layer of long black hair. It was all over the faux-marble tiles and as I brought my hand to my head, I realized that it was my hair—Akutagawa must’ve clipped most of it from my head when he tried to cut me in half. Looking back up to the main doors, I tried to stand on my injured leg and immediately regretted it.

“Shit.”

My leg was in bad shape; I could barely feel it and everything from the knee down was soaked in blood. Even worse than that, my breaths felt shallow and my head was spinning from anemia; I had to be close to going into shock and judging from the small pinpricks of pain, there were probably micro fractures in my bones. In spite of Kunikida’s best efforts to keep me alive, I had no clue how I was going to make it out of the gallery.

And then a flash of a different shade of red caught my eye.

Rolling towards me from the far side of the room, where the battle raged, was a bright red fire extinguisher. Parts of it looked damaged, and as I stared at it, I was struck by a dangerous idea. If I had no chance of survival, I could at least use my last moments well.

I scooped up the fire extinguisher into my arms and headed back into the fray.

“Kunikida-san!”

They turned to me just as I flung the pressurized device at Akutagawa.

“Heads up!”

All eyes in the lobby lifted towards the extinguisher as it flew through the air, seemingly moving in slow motion as it arced towards Akutagawa. Wordlessly, Kunikida raised his gun and fired once.

The atrium shook. Glass shattered and plumes of white powder filled the air, blanketing the statues in the lobby like snow. My ears rang; something was dripping out of them. The force of the blast must have knocked out my eardrums and I could feel myself flying backwards through the air. Without warning, I was propelled through the doors of the gallery entrance and I was awarded one glorious view of the outside, of the building bathed in a twilight glow, the very streets illuminated in flashing red and blue lights. I saw uniformed police officers swarming out of their vehicles, towards me, towards the wrecked building behind me...

And then I hit the sidewalk with a horrible crunch.

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was a woman in black and white racing towards me where I fell, a golden butterfly glinting brightly in her hair.

#dazai x oc #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #kunikida x reader #kunikida x oc #kunikida doppo #bungou sd

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theunlimitedskye · 5 years

Text

Comatose - A Bungou Stray Dogs One-Shot

Fandom/Series: Bungou Stray Dogs Description: Ranpo agonizes over a critically injured Dazai in the hospital. Genre: Angst Characters: Ranpo Edogawa, Dazai Osamu Ships: DazRan Trigger Warnings: FEELS, major character injury, more feels Inspiration: A song by Skillet under the same name Author Notes: i tried to write something cute idfk what happened °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•° The only audible sounds in the room was the slow beeping of the heart rate monitor, and the quiet, shallow breathing of a young man desperately struggling to live, clutching to life like dawn dew abandoned by a night frosted over, clinging to a wilting, claret carnation for survival. It had been three weeks since the incident, and Dazai still hadn't woken from his comatose state. Ranpo had been by his bed side ever since, now merely a shadow of who he used to be. Dark circles had formed beneath his ever perpetually closed green eyes from a lack of sleep, as he quickly found it impossible to get a good night's rest with someone so close to him in a state such as this. "Breathe," he said quietly, though the instruction was more to the both of them than just the taller brunet alone. "Please, Dazai... You have to breathe..." As if responding to Ranpo's words, Dazai rattled a breath through a throat lined in tubes, the only thing letting him breathe in the first place since he certainly couldn't do it on his own. The loud, choked sound of a man pulling breaths tooth and nail into a body quickly failing was simply too much for Ranpo to bear. He turned away. He didn't want to see it anymore. He'd never anticipated something like this happening. It was something that took him quite some time to even come to terms with. He was used to the man trying to kill himself on an almost daily basi. Hell, he even expected it at this point. But this wasn't a situation Dazai had caused by his own hand. Ranpo had always known Dazai wanted to die, but oh, god, not like this. He'd been hit by a drunk driver in the middle of the fucking day as he returned to the office after getting lunch. Ranpo had been waiting for him, watching out the window with rarely opened emerald eyes for his eventual return, so he had seen it all. And he absolutely lost it. The way Dazai looked in that moment, laying in the street, bloodied and mangled... It wasn't something he could ever forget, no matter how desperately he wanted to. Oh, how Ranpo wanted to just believe everything would be fine, that Dazai would wake up and he would pull him into his arms and he would tell him everything was going to be okay. But with every passing day that Dazai didn't wake, he knew the chances of this were getting slimmer and slimmer. He ran a hand through his brown-black hair, and against his own will, he glanced back at Dazai. If it weren't for the tubes, IVs and healing injuries that laced his body, he almost would have looked peaceful. Almost. The image of him like this pained Ranpo to the very center of his soul. Glassy tears from puffy red eyes slipped down pale cheeks. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Dazai. It was a thought he pushed deep inside of him where he refused to dwell on it. But sometimes that thought would resurface, bubbling up and spilling over into a new wave of tears. He'd had soon realized that he had begun to feel something for the man, something, perhaps, beyond friendship. He had at first denied these feelings, but every time Dazai would smile at him or give him a passing glance with those beautiful brown eyes, Ranpo found it damn near impossible to keep his heart rate from going crazy and keep his composure. And he was beginning to think Dazai felt it, too. Little glances or casual comments directed his way became more frequent, and Ranpo was certain there was something more between them. But before he'd had the chance to tell him how he truly felt, his entire world was shattered. He was an emotional wreck, dreading the thought of continuing his life without the other male by his side. In the infrequent and increasingly rare times when he fell asleep, his dreams offered a minimal comfort of days long past, where everything was as sweet as cherries and ice cream. But now, his dreams no longer comforted him. He didn't want to live or even breathe without him, and the only thing keeping him together was the thought that Dazai may live. By now, he was certain that if Dazai slipped away, he would surely go mad. There were so many things that Ranpo wished to say to him, but had never the chance nor, perhaps, even, the courage to express his feelings. He regretted not telling him how he felt before this unfortunate string of events had occurred. He reached out to touch the man's hand. "Y-You have to live, Dazai," Ranpo told him, unable to prevent the stutter in his voice, hoarse after weeks of crying consecutively. "W-We're all waiting for you back at the Agency." He blinked away tears that threatened to fall. "Y-You can't quit now, Dazai... You don't want to die in a way that you didn't bring upon yourself, right...?" He held Dazai's hand in both of his own. "Y-You have to keep breathing, alright, Dazai? You have to live..." He choked back a sob, opening his eyes to hopefully witness a response from the brunet. "You can't leave us, Dazai... Please... Wake up..." Ranpo's voice was barely above a whisper now. "I love you, Dazai..." It was then that Ranpo reached the realization that maybe Dazai couldn't even hear him, no matter how much he wanted him to.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #edogawa ranpo #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd ranpo #unusually angsty fanfiction #daran #skye's fanfiction

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cranial-echo · 5 years

Text

Comatose

Fandom/Series: Bungou Stray Dogs

Description: Ranpo agonizes over a critically injured Dazai in the hospital.

Genre: Angst

Characters: Ranpo Edogawa, Dazai Osamu

Ships: Daran

Trigger Warnings: FEELS, major character injury, more feels

Inspiration: A song by Skillet under the same name

Author Notes: i tried to write something cute idfk what happened

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The only audible sounds in the room was the slow beeping of the heart rate monitor, and the quiet, shallow breathing of a young man desperately struggling to live, clutching to life like dawn dew abandoned by a night frosted over, clinging to a wilting, claret carnation for survival.

It had been three weeks since the incident, and Dazai still hadn’t woken from his comatose state.

Ranpo had been by his bed side ever since, now merely a shadow of who he used to be. Dark circles had formed beneath his ever perpetually closed green eyes from a lack of sleep, as he quickly found it impossible to get a good night’s rest with someone so close to him in a state such as this.

“Breathe,” he said quietly, though the instruction was more to the both of them than just the taller brunet alone. “Please, Dazai… You have to breathe…”

As if responding to Ranpo’s words, Dazai rattled a breath through a throat lined in tubes, the only thing letting him breathe in the first place since he certainly couldn’t do it on his own. The loud, choked sound of a man pulling breaths tooth and nail into a body quickly failing was simply too much for Ranpo to bear.

He turned away. He didn’t want to see it anymore.

He’d never anticipated something like this happening. It was something that took him quite some time to even come to terms with. He was used to the man trying to kill himself on an almost daily basi. Hell, he even expected it at this point. But this wasn’t a situation Dazai had caused by his own hand.

Ranpo had always known Dazai wanted to die, but oh, god, not like this.

He’d been hit by a drunk driver in the middle of the fucking day as he returned to the office after getting lunch. Ranpo had been waiting for him, watching out the window with rarely opened emerald eyes for his eventual return, so he had seen it all. And he absolutely lost it. The way Dazai looked in that moment, laying in the street, bloodied and mangled… It wasn’t something he could ever forget, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

Oh, how Ranpo wanted to just believe everything would be fine, that Dazai would wake up and he would pull him into his arms and he would tell him everything was going to be okay. But with every passing day that Dazai didn’t wake, he knew the chances of this were getting slimmer and slimmer.

He ran a hand through his brown-black hair, and against his own will, he glanced back at Dazai. If it weren’t for the tubes, IVs and healing injuries that laced his body, he almost would have looked peaceful. Almost.

The image of him like this pained Ranpo to the very center of his soul. Glassy tears from puffy red eyes slipped down pale cheeks. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Dazai. It was a thought he pushed deep inside of him where he refused to dwell on it. But sometimes that thought would resurface, bubbling up and spilling over into a new wave of tears.

He’d had soon realized that he had begun to feel something for the man, something, perhaps, beyond friendship. He had at first denied these feelings, but every time Dazai would smile at him or give him a passing glance with those beautiful brown eyes, Ranpo found it damn near impossible to keep his heart rate from going crazy and keep his composure.

And he was beginning to think Dazai felt it, too. Little glances or casual comments directed his way became more frequent, and Ranpo was certain there was something more between them. But before he’d had the chance to tell him how he truly felt, his entire world was shattered.

He was an emotional wreck, dreading the thought of continuing his life without the other male by his side. In the infrequent and increasingly rare times when he fell asleep, his dreams offered a minimal comfort of days long past, where everything was as sweet as cherries and ice cream. But now, his dreams no longer comforted him. He didn’t want to live or even breathe without him, and the only thing keeping him together was the thought that Dazai may live.

By now, he was certain that if Dazai slipped away, he would surely go mad.

There were so many things that Ranpo wished to say to him, but had never the chance nor, perhaps, even, the courage to express his feelings. He regretted not telling him how he felt before this unfortunate string of events had occurred.

He reached out to touch the man’s hand.

“Y-You have to live, Dazai,” Ranpo told him, unable to prevent the stutter in his voice, hoarse after weeks of crying consecutively. “W-We’re all waiting for you back at the Agency.”

He blinked away tears that threatened to fall.

“Y-You can’t quit now, Dazai… You don’t want to die in a way that you didn’t bring upon yourself, right…?”

He held Dazai’s hand in both of his own.

“Y-You have to keep breathing, alright, Dazai? You have to live…”

He choked back a sob, opening his eyes to hopefully witness a response from the brunet.

“You can’t leave us, Dazai… Please… Wake up…”

Ranpo’s voice was barely above a whisper now.

“I love you, Dazai…”

It was then that Ranpo reached the realization that maybe Dazai couldn’t even hear him, no matter how much he wanted him to.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #edogawa ranpo #dazai osamu #bsd ranpo #bsd dazai #daran

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fraink5-writes · 6 years

Text

Human Qualification- Chapter 17

February 14

For such a special occasion, I present you with fluff (and, of course, existential dread)!

As always, I want to thank @missmizpah @gracieuxetoile and @deathly-oreos for reading it over!

Summary: To slowly lose all your functions until you are nothing but a trapped mind in a deteriorated shell, that’s what it means to be ‘No Longer Human.’

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Dazai woke up to a cold silence. Where Chuuya would normally lie, the bed was empty. There was a notable difference—the bed felt spacier but colder. The apartment felt emptier too; if Chuuya wasn’t pressed warmly against Dazai, he was normally moving around the apartment, a tune on his lips more often than not. But, it was silent. Chuuya must have went out.

Sure enough, there was a note on the nightstand: ‘Dazai, I’m going out. I should be back soon (probably). See you then! -Chuuya.’ The vague contents of the note weren’t all that reassuring. Where did he go? And what did “probably” mean? It’s not that Dazai minded Chuuya going out—in fact, he was glad (Chuuya seemed miserable at home). But, normally, Chuuya would tell Dazai where he was going, and even invite him along (depending on the day, Dazai would accept or decline). That morning, Dazai had no idea where Chuuya was—and he was stuck in his bed.

Dazai couldn’t move—not enough for it to matter. Sure, he could wave his left arm, crane his neck, and, if he really wanted an abdominal work-out, he might have been able to sit upright. But his right arm was useless, and so were his legs. Dazai was prisoner in his own bed, and there was a weighted ball tied around his ankles, except his legs were actually the weight. They weren’t entirely dead and detached; they had just enough sensation to ache. Their muffled screams urged Dazai to roll onto his side, to take their own weight off them—but that was impossible.

Dazai leaned back into his stack of pillows, making his legs groan. He stared reluctantly at the ceiling. How horribly dirty… Dust and dirt hung down like failed stars on an inverted sky. Slowly more particles came into view as his eyes fine-tuned their focus. 1, 2, 3, 4… Dazai was stranded alone in his sordid world; everything else seemed light years away.

Eventually, unwanted thoughts would creep into the empty space. They emerged from Dazai’s useless limbs, like insects feasting on his slow decay. He couldn’t resist them—he couldn’t move. And that was the problem. Dazai was useless without his wheelchair, and what good was his wheelchair without Chuuya to lift him in and out everyday? Without them, Dazai could do nothing.

Dazai was half-alive, half-dead, and he wasn’t sure which side he wanted to be on. If this was living—lying alone, counting the dust bunnies on the ceiling—Dazai wanted nothing to do with it. If living meant leeching off Chuuya’s pity like a parasite, then he wanted to stop. But if this was death—lying alone with pain as your only companion—Dazai was repulsed. If dying meant being stripped of all his power and left vulnerable, then he rejected it. Even if he wanted neither, somehow being in the middle was so much worse. He was caught in a tug-of-war between life and death; neither side wanted him, but they wouldn’t give him up, tearing at him relentlessly.

“Hey, Dazai.” At least temporarily, the struggle subsided: Chuuya had finally returned. Briefly, his faint smile seemed to outpower the dark shadows below his eyes. “Sorry if I kept you waiting long.”

“Where’d you go?”

Chuuya held his finger to his lips. “It’s a secret. Now, do you want me to help you out of there?”

“Yes, please.” Dazai tried to wear his nicest smile despite the overall feeling of dread. Even if Chuuya was strong, he seemed worn out from constantly lifting Dazai to and from his wheelchair.

Nevertheless, Chuuya moved Dazai swiftly with ease. “I hope you’re feeling lively today. I have something special planned.” Once again, his body language seemed to betray him.

“Wait—why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’ It’s Valentine’s Day.”

Huh?

Dazai waited on the couch with increasing dread. His left hand—his empty left hand—fidgeted in his lap. Why was he empty-handed? Because he was a fool. Soon enough (too soon, in fact) Chuuya would return, and Dazai would have nothing to give him. As he waited, he wished he could make a gift (anything would suffice) appear in his hand.

“Why are you making such a weird face?” Chuuya plopped on the couch next to Dazai.

“Nothing,” Dazai faked a grin.

“This should make you smile. Here, for you.” Chuuya handed Dazai a red box, trying visibly to be casual.

Dazai wanted to be happy, but his guilt stood in the way. “Did you make these yourself?”

“Yeah, I made them. For you.” At this point, Chuuya facade had broken down, and blush took over his face. “Well, Ane-san helped. But I did most of the work.” Did Chuuya want to take credit or not…?

“Thank you, Tsuuya.” Dazai gave Chuuya his most sincere smile, which only seemed to fluster the redhead more.

“It was nothing, really.”

‘Nothing?’ If either of them did nothing, it was Dazai. He waited anxiously with nothing to give, nothing to say. What could he say? Chuuya, who had already been working so hard every day, had went out of his way, despite his exhaustion, to make chocolates for Dazai, and, in return, Dazai had forgot. Surely, Valentine’s Day was, at its core, a Western commercial holiday, but that only added to the list of reasons Dazai should have managed something. In return for all that Chuuya had done, Dazai couldn’t even do the most basic thing for him.

“Huh, Dazai, what’s wrong?” Dazai hadn’t realized Chuuya was staring at him. “I know I’m not the best cook, but I don’t think it could be that fucking bad to warrant such a reaction.”

Well, this is embarrassing. Dazai really preferred to be unreadable, especially in times like this. “It’s not that—not at all.” Dazai lowered his eyes. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

Suddenly, Chuuya burst out laughing like he hadn’t in weeks. “That’s what you were worried about? Oh my fucking god...”

“What?” The color of embarrassment began mixing with the shame on Dazai’s face.

“After everything… a box of fucking chocolates...”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“You fucking idiot.” Chuuya threw his arms around Dazai in his laughter. “If you insist on giving me something, you have until White Day, okay?”

Dazai nodded. As relief sunk in, the beginnings of a smile floated up.

“Man, I haven’t laughed this fucking hard since who-the-fuck-knows-when.” Chuuya placed a kiss on Dazai’s forehead. “Thank you for that.”

Chuuya’s kiss, his laugh, his smile—in that moment, Chuuya was right—the chocolates were the least relevant thing.

“Voilà!” Chuuya gestured grandly to the mini-feast on the table. “Crabs and sake, your favorites~”

“Not when you make them,” Dazai muttered. The food before him actually looked rather appetizing. Chuuya’s cooking skills had improved a fair amount since Dazai had moved in—not that Dazai would let him know.

“Hey, look here. I don’t have to give you any.”

“Oh, are you going to spare me?” Chuuya had fallen nicely into Dazai’s trap.

“.. Bastard.” Chuuya cleared his throat. “Now, before you start eating—which I know you’re dying to do—we should take a picture!”

“Like this?” This was the last way Dazai wanted to be preserved in Chuuya’s memory: helpless in a wheelchair.

“Yes, like this. This is our first fucking Valentine’s Day, and we should record it.”

“Fine.”

Chuuya went into the other room and returned with the camera, tripod, a box chocolates. “What’s that for?” Dazai asked.

“Hold it.” Chuuya dropped the box into Dazai’s lap. “We didn’t get any pictures earlier, so this will do.”

“Okay.” Dazai picked up the chocolates into his usable hand, which trembled lightly. Chuuya leaned in from behind and then whacked him on the back of the hand. “What?”

“You better smile.”

So Dazai did smile.

The photo, despite their smiles, was largely unhappy. Weary shadows dulled Chuuya’s eyes. Dazai’s picture depicted mainly the things he lost: a fair amount of hair, muscles, fat—anything which had previously cushioned his skeleton. Even if they smiled, it was a ghastly image.

Chuuya seemed pretty content with the photo, so Dazai didn’t say anything.

“Shall we eat?” Chuuya chimed, drawing Dazai’s attention back to the food. He sat down in the seat next to Dazai. In one hand, he took Dazai’s motionless right hand, in the other, the chopsticks. Taking turns, he would put food in his mouth, then in Dazai’s. It was a stupid game they played when they wanted to forget. Over time, Chuuya would get more and more creative in his attempts to feed Dazai. When he succeeded, that was a point for him; when he missed or made a mess, that was a point for Dazai. Although the objective (to feed Dazai) suggested that Chuuya should have usually won, more often than not, he lost, especially when alcohol was involved.

“Really?! How could you say I lost?!” Chuuya gaped at Dazai, a drunken red on his cheeks.

“I was keeping score. You undeniably lost.”

“I say you were fucking cheating. You used the alcohol to cheat!”

“You brought the alcohol, remember? And it’s not my fault you have no tolerance,” Dazai shrugged. “Oh, and before you pass out, don’t forget to help me to the bed.”

“Oh, I’ll help you to the bed, alright.” Dazai’s back stiffened with dread before Chuuya scooped him up into his arms, bridal-style.

“You’re going to carry me from here?”

“Today you get special treatment.” Chuuya carried Dazai into the bedroom and lowered him unto the bed with a kiss on his forehead. “How’s that for the end of a romantic ending?”

“It’s not over yet.” Dazai grinned with a yawn.

“Oh?”

In a few minutes, Chuuya had changed out of his clothes. He turned off the lights and slithered into the bed next to Dazai. “What did you have in mind, sleepyhead?”

“You took too long. I’m going to bed.”

“How romantic...” Chuuya wrapped himself around Dazai’s arm and quickly nodded to sleep, a rare, peaceful smile on his lips. It was romantic, Dazai thought—way better lying alone.

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#Bungou Stray Dogs #Soukoku #Human Qualification #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya

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