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Every now and again he returned to look at one particular painting in the museum. He’d stand and stare at it for hours, as if he expected it to change, as if the trees would actually start moving. The power of the wind whipping them back and forth. It wasn’t the most realistic painting but that was the draw to it. In fact if it had looked more realistic, realism it’s called, it wouldn’t have been as interesting. It would have been similar to the many other different paintings of trees whipping in the wind.
The leaves on the trees: orange. Autumn. The end of life. The leaves of trees start to die in autumn and fall. Withering away on the ground. The trees in the painting look as if they are being thrown back and forth harshly by the wind. The grass, meanwhile, looks unaffected. Solid and unmoving.
That’s what the painting feels like in its entirety. It feels like a moment stuck in unmoving time. Despite waving around madly, the trees still look as if they’re frozen. Just looking at it feels surreal, it feels as if he’s gotten sucked into it, he’s in the painting and not his body. The painting feels too familiar to him.
The stillness should feel tranquil but it feels tense. The cooler toned colours make it feel grim and melancholy. Stifling. It’s a painting of nature but it feels as though it radiates death. There is no life in that painting. No birds or blooming flowers, and while, objectively, the trees and grass is alive, that painting is not one of life. It is of reality. It’s suffocating.
He feels drawn to it. Not even his painful, craning neck is making him want to take a glance away from it as he sits and stares. His hands are limply held in his pockets and his face is probably stuck in a relaxed ‘not quite there’ expression. As is usual when he is alone. A body makes its way to sit beside him. Despite not looking he already knew who it was. He’s the only one who really knew that he came here every so often. His awareness snapped back into place just slightly.
Hands which are often known to hold a cigarette to the lips lay calmly on their owner’s lap. You weren’t allowed to smoke in the museum- something about damaging the paintings.
“Dazai-kun?” He turned around towards the voice, he already knew who it was because he’d heard it often while still in the mafia.
“Hirotsu-san. Strange for you to be here isn’t it?” His words were left with the slightest impression of a smile.
“Perhaps we should talk outside?” Hirotsu suggested. Already standing up.
He didn’t have to say anything to that really. Just start walking out of the building to a bench he’d seen earlier. As they walked out, people made way for them, a couple businessman moving their suitcases to the side and such. Hirotsu’s dark clothes and calm, closed-off demeanour immediately gave out the fact that he was a mafioso, and he was now a detective associating with a mafioso.
“Apologies for bothering you Dazai-kun but you did not appear too busy. I had a feeling you would be here.” They had both sat down on the bench. Not exactly looking at each other but staring off into the distance. As soon as he’d sat down, Hirotsu had a cigarette between his figures which he’d taken out with practiced motions. Hirotsu was the last person he thought that he’d see today.
Especially giving the fact that he’s skipping work, and with no notice. They probably wouldn’t fire him would they? Hah. Where else would he go? The government? Would he have to get his record wiped again for that?
“I’m not too busy Hirotsu-san. Anything that you wanted to see me for?” Kunikida would be shoving work into his face the minute he stepped into the agency.
“Not particularly. Apologies if I’m overstepping. Happy birthday.” Oh. It was his birthday. His eyes widened slightly. How did he know? He didn’t tell anyone. Not even Chuuya knew and he was one of his closest associates in the mafia. Hirotsu continued talking. “For some reason I had a feeling you’d be here. Ever since that thing that happened some time back you’ve been coming here and staring at the same portrait.”
“Ah. I think I’m starting to appreciate the visual arts.” Of that one painting. ‘Landscape’, it’s called. Generic.
“I can see why you’re drawn to it. It’s quite different from the others isn’t it. While I’m not quite someone who enjoys the arts, even I can tell that there’s something about it.” Another puff of smoke waved by him. Hirotsu waved an arm to dispel it.
“I can’t really tell what it is. It’s interesting I suppose. Do you know when the exhibit is going down?” He’d visit as often as he could before it would be taken down. His question was met with smile, Hirotsu’s brow wrinkled slightly in thought.
“A year, I believe? I checked the website. Took me ages because of that computer…” Hirotsu looked to the side, laughing a bit.
Silence took place of conversation for a moment. It wasn’t quite tense but uncomfortable.
“Did you really come here just to say happy birthday? It’s out of character for you.” He drew a deep breath in, holding it. His hands which were dug in his coat’s pockets stilled. He didn’t know why. Why did this affect him?
“Maybe it is. It’s your birthday today, correct?” Hirotsu asked.
“I suppose, but how do you even know? You weren’t told.” Not even the agency knew, if they did that still wouldn’t be a good enough excuse to miss work. How annoying! He’d have to listen to Kunikida’s yelling. It’s better than the Chuhuahua’s though. He’ll call him that next time he sees him.
“Boss. Elise was talking about it earlier today with him.” Hirotsu nodded, slightly turning towards him. Of course. Mori, and Elise of course, but mostly Mori. Elise is part of Mori, so can they just be seen as a collective? One day he’d have to ask Elise herself, what is she?
“I didn’t think you’d appreciate a gift and I wouldn’t have known what to give you, so I didn’t get you anything. Is that alright Dazai-kun?” Hirotsu looked at him with a knowing expression. He already knew that he wouldn’t have wanted one.
“I appreciate the thought Hirotsu-san.” He gave a wide smile. Hirotsu’s smile dimming slightly, Dazai was going back to acting. The detective of the armed detective agency. He wouldn’t have known what to do with a gift regardless. Would he have owed Hirotsu-san back?
“Well. I need to get going. I’m not the only one skipping on work. You should go as well.” They both made the motions to get up, Hirotsu perhaps more energetic than him but he’s allowed to be a bit less energetic today. He can take things more easy today. He’s the birthday boy! Maybe he’ll see if he can buy himself some crab later as a treat.
They both nodded in goodbye. No need to say it out loud. It means the same thing. Hitotsu knew him to an extent, even if it wasn’t to the extent of Chuuya or Odasaku. Actually, thinking about Odasaku, he was going to visit his grave earlier. He’d do that later; he wouldn’t want to disturb Odasaku with his misery on a day he should find happy. Not that he’s miserable, it’s different. Not something that he could put to words.
He was alone again. He felt more at ease now. It’s hard to talk to people, you have to cater to their needs in the conversation, add a bit of humour even at the expense of yourself and your own dignity. Play the clown. That’s what he does at the agency isn’t it? He puts on a metaphorical mask, hides his real emotions, or his deficiency of them, not lack. He has them. Maybe it’s not good of him to find it exhausting. Maybe it’s selfish. It feels selfish. But it’s difficult. The only way he can manage is by locking away his emotions, to a place only him and him alone can access.
He was still standing. If people looked at him now, what would they see? A spacey stranger looking at trees? What an odd sight. He should probably go to the agency.
Better to call Kunikida first.
He dug his phone out of his pocket and, finding Kunikida’s contact, hovered it about a couple of centimetres from his ear. Here comes the thunder.
With a ding, the gates of hell unleashed. “Dazai you suicidal maniac what are you doing skipping work! My day was perfectly planned, it was going perfectly and then you decided to just run off somewhere. You better not be jumping into a river somewhere. I had a plan! If you even manage to get here today you are going to be doing paperwork! Don’t even try to push it on me. I’ve already had to do half of it just to keep up! Stop skipping and just do your work!” Then he hung up.
Wow.
He did not know that Kunikida could rap! Why did he even become a teacher if he could rap. Or maybe all that fast talking stuff comes with being a teacher.
But he didn’t even manage to get a word in which is, quite frankly, so rude! He was the one who called, yet he didn’t even manage to say a word.
He should probably get going though, otherwise Kunikida would try to strange him if he wasn’t preparing to already. That was not how he wanted to go.
His walk to the agency wasn’t really eventful. The streets were not exactly clear but nowhere near as full as he thought it would be. Strange. It’s not any specific holiday as far as he knows but it’s not like he knows much about those. Has he even properly celebrated Christmas before?
A reddish-brown brick building came into sight before him. Maybe if he hadn’t walked he’d have gotten here faster but it was worth it to see how mad Kunikida would get. Quickly tapping the button in the elevator he waited to get to the second floor.
Right as the elevator door opened, Kunikida’s face was the first thing he saw. He was quite literally waiting right in front of the elevator, face to face.
“Why did you skip work today! Don’t even try to get out of this. I’ve had to do four hours worth of your work just to keep up today. My schedule was not designed with your absence in mind. What was it even for! Were you just trying another suicide method?” Kunikida yelled, with almost no break between the sentences.
“Wow Kunikida-kun! I didn’t know that you could rap! Is it cause you used to be a teacher?” Kunikida looked away from him and started dragging him by his ear to his office chair. Ignoring the small little ‘ows’ that he said.
“It has nothing to do with me being a teacher Dazai. Just do your work.” Kunikida sat down at his own desk and pushed up his glasses.
“Actually, where is everyone? It’s quite empty today.” He looked around and wondered. It’s probably why Kunikida is extra grouchy today. Understaffed. What a horrific nightmare. He laughed internally. It could be worse honestly. At least there’s not really any sort of genuine problem like an attack. They’ve been there, done that got the t-shirt. Also he’d rather not have to deal with that today.
“Ranpo-san is out on a case with Atsushi. Showing him the ropes I believe. After all, he is still fairly new despite it feeling like he’s been here long. Yosano-sensei is out shopping. She took Kyoka with her. Apparently the only clothes that she has is her kimono. Tanizaki is out for lunch with Kenji and the president is doing his own work in his office.” Kunikida sighed and flipped through a couple sheets of paperwork, signing something, he couldn’t see what. A whole stack stood on the left side of his desk. Probably what he still needed to do.
It looked terrifying. He better do some work before Kunikida flips. Not that it’s not fun to see him angry but this was not an angry Kunikida. This was stressed Kunikida. He was literally signing things upside down!
He let out a deep sigh. How boring! He’d have to actually do his paperwork. Better to do it now though than later. In truth, however, he actually didn’t mind doing the paperwork. Sure it was boring but it was predictable. Safe. He didn’t have to think too much. That was something he definitely did not want to do today. He’d already done too much thinking today.
He could just tell that his wish would not be granted, however. That wasn’t how his life worked.
After around half an hour of doing paperwork, he could see that Kunikida’s shoulders had lowered a lot from their previous tense position. The weight of a whole day of stress was slowly being lifted with every bit more work they both did. After just a bit more, Kenji and Tanizaki both returned from Lunch.
Kunikida used to be a teacher didn’t he? Would make sense that he’s acting soft towards the kids and making them take a lunch break. They probably insisted that they could do more work but Kunikida made them take a break. He’s no longer a teacher but he still behaves like one sometimes.
“Oh hey Dazai-san! I thought you were skipping today?” Kenji walked on over to him while holding a plant? He wouldn’t question it. Straight to the point though.
“Ah yes. I just decided I felt like coming in.” He put his face closer to Kenji’s ear, looking at Kunikida from the corner of his eye. “And also because Kunikida would get so angry he’d explode if I didn’t.” He whispered the last part conspiratorially. Kenji nodded in an understanding, his eyes widening as if he’d been told a big secret.
“Yeah, Kunikida-san looked really angry earlier. He looks like he’s calmed down a bit though.”
“I can hear you two. Get back to work Dazai. Kenji. Water the plants. They need watering.” Kunikida didn’t even lift his head up as he ordered Dazai to work. Kenji immediately began watering the plants. Talking to them. Apparently one of the plants name’s is ‘Mido-kun’. There’s also shrub-chan and fern-san. For some reason Kenji chose a mix of Japanese and English names.
Why could teachers always hear everything? Supernatural creatures, that’s what they are. Kunikida is different though. Kunikida is Kunikida.
“Wah! But Kunikida-kun! I’ve already done more than half an hour of work in dead silence. Don’t I deserve a break?” He proclaimed. Snapping his head up to look at Kunikida. Tears suddenly springing to his eyes.
“Oh, is that the time? Well then, I suppose we can take a break.” Kunikida tilted his head up to look at the clock on the wall, pushing his glasses up that had started to slip on his nose. “I-uh didn’t expect you to work for that long without doing something distracting. Thank you.” Kunikida turned and walked away after giving his thanks. Back to his work desk of course! Where else? To take a break? Of course not. That would be totally out of character for Kunikida. It would also probably go against his schedule. His Ideals book. Although it’s pretty easy for something to go against his ideals. If he’s judging by his requirements for an ideal partner.
If Kunikida continued with those ideals for a partner, then he would probably remain forever single.
“Kunikida-kun is so nice! Gah! Thank you Kunikida-kun for some kindness! I feel so happy my heart could burst!” He expressed his utmost gratitude at Kunikida’s kindness by smacking one hand onto his forehead while one clutched at his chest. His heart beating fast at such kindness! That would make him angry. How fun.
“I was just being polite you idiot! Honestly. This isn’t some sort of soap opera.” Kunikida gripped him by his tie and started shaking him back and forth. As if in an attempt to knock common sense into Dazai’s head.
“Wait. Actually, Kunikida-kun? What time is it? It feels like it’s been ages!” How long did it take him to walk here?
“Well it’s nearly four in the afternoon. you got here at about three and you called me at one and… did it really take you two hours to get here? What the hell were you even doing? You should know it’s a work day?” Kunikida looked at him, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle or a complicated math problem.
Nope. Not happening. He just smiled at Kunikida. As nice as he is, they’re not close enough, at all. He wasn’t going to be figured out so easily, or in any way.
“Nothing much, just wandering about. That’s all.” He smiled. It felt a bit more forced than usual. Even though Hirotsu was there, he didn’t intrude, he already knew about the place and hadn’t told anyone. If he told Kunikida, he couldn’t be sure what would happen. Would they disturb him?
As much fun as it is to annoy Kunikida, there are some things he won’t do. He wouldn’t set off the man too much. Neither should they disturb him when he’s in such a state of focus. Or is it like a form of disassociation? Whichever description fits best. The place had quickly built a home in his cold, locked away heart.
Thinking about it. He didn’t know how important visiting the museum was to him until now.
Maybe he really was just starting to appreciate the arts. That’s all. Normal enough, right?
Kunikida frowned but didn’t press him further. A small mercy.
“Kunikida-kun? What time do we finish today?” He flipped through his stack of paperwork. He’d finished it all. One reason why he was respected in the mafia. Behold, the king of paperwork, Dazai Osamu! But of course, he’s only joking. That title sounds lame.
“Five. We finish at five today. Somehow you’ve managed to perform a miracle and completed all your paperwork. Around an hour.” Kunikida answered.
For some reason, for a second, it’s as if he wanted to tell them ‘it’s my birthday’. Which is stupid. It felt like a strange heaviness in his chest. An itching. Why would he want to say that? Just to see if they’d care maybe? What benefit would there be in them knowing? It’s such a personal detail and it has nothing to do with his performance at work. He tries not to shudder at letting loose such an important detail. He’s glad he didn’t do it but- how would it have felt like if he did?
There’s no point in his birthday being celebrated. Why would people even want to celebrate his birth? The birth of a demon? The demon prodigy. His birth brought suffering and misfortune on people. Yes, he’s grown and changed but in some ways he’s the same. He’s still not as good of a person as Odasaku told him to be. Helping the orphans and being on the side of the light.
Even on the side of the light he can’t get rid of the broken chains of the mafia. They remain invisible on his wrists and his blood (mafia black as some would call it) connects him to the organisation.
Even when he broke ties.
He’s no longer part of the mafia but Hirotsu sought him out. Mori extended an offer for Dazai to come back to the mafia. Everything around him reminds him about the mafia. Oh, wait. He’s still standing. Kunikida is starting to stare. And is that Ranpo? Since when did he get back?
“Oh hey Ranpo-san!” Ranpo quickly turned around at the mention of his name and squinted at him. “Ranpo-san?” He repeated again. Actually, where’s Atsushi? Kunikida said he went with Ranpo. Maybe he went home already?
“You should go home Dazai. You’re too out of it to work.” He munched on a multicoloured snack. It looks sweet enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. Sure he’s been spacey but he’s not too out of it. Ranpo’s wrong. He couldn’t deny him though because that would look bad.
Ranpo had probably indirectly been keeping watch over him while he was lost in thought. How long had it been? He looked at the clock. Ten minutes? Oh. He’s out of it.
He’s been standing on the spot for.. no it was probably longer than ten minutes. He didn’t check the time before.
“Out of it? Is that why he was late?” Kunikida looked at him across the room. “He doesn’t look like he’s sick?” That’s because he wasn’t sick.
Ranpo looked at Kunikida and opened his eyes. “Just look at him! What part of him doesn’t look like he’s out of it. He literally spent the last twenty minutes staring into space. Not moving. Not making sound. I could barely hear him breathing. Just send him home, and if not there then to Yosano-san.” Ranpo quickly exclaimed at Kunikida. Then turned his gaze onto him, his expression searching. Eyes widening once he found the hidden answer he was searching for.
“Does that mean I can go home early then?” Dazai tried to stay upbeat. He was fine. Maybe just a bit tired. But he’s fine.
“Well, if Ranpo-san says you should then you probably should. Good night and also you better come into work tomorrow! I’m not going to do your paperwork again!” Kunikida shouted. He probably would just to keep up with his schedule.
“Ok! Well bye Kunikida-kun!” He waved goodbye to Kunikida. Kunikida too deep into his work to notice.
While walking to the elevator, Ranpo waved at him. A ‘come over here’ gesture.
“Yes, Ranpo-san?” He questioned. Ranpo had told him to go but had called him back to talk to him.
“Dazai. You arrived late at work didn’t you? Kunikida’s stressed. He’s had a lot of work today.” Ranpo had his eyes open, glasses on. He was actually taking this seriously but… where was he going with this?
“Yes?” He looked up at Ranpo, sitting on the table. If Kunikida was still a teacher he would’ve been scolded.
“I know that, while you enjoy annoying Kunikida, you wouldn’t do it to the point where he snaps or becomes too stressed. He was on the verge of too stressed today. Which means that you must’ve had a valid reason to skip work today, for you to not be around and avoid that outcome. You’re not the type to do things for no reason. Today must be special in some way for you. It’s not any special holiday and you aren’t acting too miserable so it can’t be something too horrible. Could it be.. is today your birthday Dazai-san?” Ranpo whispered the last part quietly. He’d probably deducted that he didn’t want it known. Ranpo’s eyes widened. He was correct.
“It is. Yes.” He didn’t need to answer because Ranpo had worked everything out already but for some reason he felt inclined to.
“I guess it’s safe to assume that you didn’t want that known.” The silence Ranpo got from Dazai was all the answer he needed. “Ok then, I won’t tell, that’s your business not mine. You probably don’t celebrate it but happy birthday. I don’t have anything to give you, and you probably don’t want presents, but .. uh- take this sweet packet. I haven’t opened it yet. The sugar might help.” Ranpo shoved it in his hand before he could protest. Would be rude if he didn’t eat it now that he had it. He’d eat it later. Besides, it’s his first gift. It would be quite sad to say no to it.
“Thank you Ranpo-san.” He shoved the sweets in his pocket. Careful not to damage anything. Show he cares.
“Just bear in mind Dazai, the agency takes care of its own, no matter the background. If you don’t feel like you can share information like this now, it’s alright. You don’t need to. But I hope you can eventually trust us enough.”
“Thank you Ranpo-san.” He repeated his previous words. His mind too messy to form any other sentence. His head was starting to hurt. He couldn’t focus.
He started to walk off. Ranpo didn’t stop him. There’s not much he could do for Dazai other than this. Offer support, knowing that Dazai would not take it.
The agency takes care of its own. He took the elevator down and walked out of the agency. Making his way to his apartment. The armed detective agency dormitory. The agency cares about him. Sounds like a dream but it can’t be real. He got an apartment from the agency just like everyone else. He’s just another employee, they really shouldn’t. All that he’d do is bring suffering, he’d done it in the mafia, it would probably happen in the agency. Everything is lost the moment he obtains it. That’s something he’d said once wasn’t it?
He never really was someone who truly had something was he? He’d thought he had Odasaku but he died. His only true friend gone. He didn’t really lose Chuuya did he but he must’ve somehow damaged their relationship when he left. The other person is not worth mentioning. He only thought of him when he was drinking.
Did he still have some alcohol left over? That would be his birthday treat. He wasn’t up for crab. He didn’t want to go anywhere else. He opened his door. He wouldn’t be coming out again today. He’d see if he felt like getting up tomorrow. It shut behind him. Should he lock it? Didn’t matter.
His futon still lay on the floor surrounded by a couple half empty bottles. He almost collapsed onto it. Rolling over onto his front to take a drink. He felt it sliding against his throat. A warm feeling taking place in his torso, replacing the coldness. Alcohol was good for when you didn’t want to think. When you wanted a warm fuzziness rather than emptiness.
His guide to suicide book lay beside his bed along with other different papers and books. His phone lay beside him. When had he taken that out? He couldn’t remember. Didn’t matter. What was he doing?
His hands wandered to the contact list on his phone. Many missed calls but he didn’t look at from who. Probably Kunikida trying to get him to go to work earlier. He pressed on a contact called Snail. Who was the unlucky person called that?
He took another gulp. He’d emptied two bottles. Moments of prolonged silence filling the space between each bottle. Allowing his thinking to become more disordered than it already was. He would’ve been fine normally but maybe Kunikida was right. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well.
After a couple rings that echoed around the almost empty room it finally went through. The silence was met with someone clearing their throat and an annoyed “What do you want?”. Oh. It was Chuuya.
“Ah it’s the Chuhuahua! Why’re you callin me?” Dazai looked at his ceiling and laughed as if he’d just told a funny joke. He didn’t know why. He just felt like it.
“What are you talking about? You’re the one who called me! I can hear you slurring your words over there you bastard! Don’t tell me you drunk called me.” Chuuya groaned in annoyance. He could practically picture him dragging a hand against his face.
“I’m not that drunk right now. Just a few bottles.” Dazai responded. But what he hadn’t noticed was that Chuuya didn’t say something about the nickname. Normally he would have but something felt off. It wasn’t like Dazai to just call him like this.
Chuuya stayed silent on the other side of the call. As if he was considering something. He could hear the sounds of clothes moving around. Was he putting his coat on? “Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming over.” He hung up. Once again he heard the ding. Alone again.
Chuuya knew where he lived?
It’s almost as if nothing had changed. He’s still bothering Chuuya. He can still be cruel to people. Pulling out a gun with no hesitation. With a different one he’s done things that would’ve shown his inhumanity. If Kunikida had seen that, would he have thought him a monster? There’s not even a chance that the answer’s no. It’s guaranteed. He’d probably never show his true self to the agency because that’s what would happen.
He doesn’t feel as though he’s changed. He no longer wears a bandage on his face. His true face is on display now, one less barrier separating him from the world, but he still remains the same as before. He could still kill without remorse if he wanted to. The only thing stopping him is Odasaku.
He was doing it before to find the meaning of life but he didn’t find it. If he could have experienced the emotions that people feel when they’re closest to death, he could have found meaning in living. Humans are always the most open when near death right? When the end of their existence is near. When nothing matters anymore. They could be their true selves. Could he do that?
He was no longer trying to find life in death. He’s not killing just to find a reason to live. That had changed, right? He’d matured a bit. Maybe not enough though.
He’s still that same child who’s been disillusioned by the world. A walking tragedy covered in scars upon scars. Mental and physical. Only he’s not a child anymore. He’s an adult. He’d been lifted from the dark by hands which had stilled too soon forever.
He still visits his grave. He’s still stuck in old memories and betrayals and late nights in a bar. In old dreams tinted a warm brown.
Every now and again, he takes out a picture and he looks at it. Himself, Ango and Odasaku sat in Bar Lupin. That night he’d had a feeling. He could remember it. It permeated his very self. A great dread, at that moment unrivalled by anything else. It felt like death and it was then he knew: his brief moment of happiness was over. It was the end.
And it was the end. Odasaku died soon after. Ango betrayed him. He left the mafia and blew up Chuuya’s car. Then he lay low for years. Unseen and unheard. He buried his face further in his arms. Laying face down. He’s thinking too much again. He’s been doing this all day and just wants it to stop.
He should be happy because it’s his birthday, but that just means that he’s spent another year alive; suffering.
Happy birthday to him. The only thing he’s got left that reminds him of a happier time is that picture. Maybe he should look at it for every birthday. See if it brings him happiness. Probably not. Happiness feels like a far away dream now. Those sweets Ranpo gave him didn’t help.
He could hear the front door slam open. Gloved hands shaking him as if to wake him.