Chapter Text
Sunday, 22nd March 20XX
Today, I woke up to find soft curls of long and brilliant golden-blonde hair beside my pillow. For a brief moment, I assumed I had bedded one of Kouyou’s prostitutes once again, but after one careful look at the body beside me, I realised the frame is too wide to even be a woman ten years above my age.
Kunikida Doppo is his name, I learnt from the ID card I found on his vest. A private detective, but not a very sharp one apparently because he didn’t wake up until I had his own pocket knife against his throat. I took offence to the fact that he didn’t seem to be threatened by me. I learned the reason soon enough when he slammed me on the floor in one swift move. Oh how I hate martial artists. I only woke up to find myself sharing an unfamiliar room with a complete stranger. He had laid out two separate futons for us, but he had also stripped my upper-half bare. I didn’t know if he did something to me the previous night. I didn’t know if he would do something to me then, holding me down with his strong hands. I had thought he would, but his expression twisted into something painful and he let me go. He did something though. He pressed his hand against my forehead and he informed me that my fever had gone down. It was only then I noticed how hot I was feeling. I didn’t know who this man was, and I didn’t know what his intentions with me were. But, my instincts told me he was harmless, so I believed in it.
True to his words, I found a wardrobe in the room beside the bathroom. It must be a dressing room of sorts because the only things I found in there were that wardrobe and a full body mirror. While I was rummaging the wardrobe, I remember wondering if the man outside had a teenage son. But, he seems to be in his early twenties, and the larger clothes would be too big even for him. A younger brother perhaps. It was only when I couldn’t fit into a pair of trousers that I realised something was off. My reflection told me I was a few inches too taller than I remember myself to be. I also found my facial features to be devoid of any babyish roundness. I realised I was no longer in the body of a seventeen-year old. I must be at least as old as the detective. In the end, I settled on borrowing one of the larger suits. It didn’t fit me well enough, but the bagginess made up for the lack of bandages. Truth be told, I wanted to scout the house, but I couldn’t seem to stay upright. My vision doubled every time I took too many steps in a row, so I stopped at the kitchen.
I learned at breakfast that this Kunikida Doppo isn’t just anyone, because apparently, he knew exactly how I liked my coffee. Even Chibi doesn’t know that. Speaking of Chibi, he showed up later but only stayed for a few minutes. I wish I hadn’t gotten under his skin that quickly. I had a lot of questions I wanted answers to, and my ‘new partner’ didn’t seem to be much of a talker. Until lunch, I was left alone in the room I woke up in this morning.
There’s familiarity in the way this Kunikida Doppo calls my name. It rolls off his tongue like he’s been doing it for years. Still, I had no reason to believe I actually worked with this man. This could be a deliberate plot of kidnapping me for all I knew. I was only playing along for the day because Chibi had really shown up earlier. And, I still needed my answers. After I had answered the door - the guy is a persistent knocker - he dropped a key into my hand. It turned into paper the moment it touched my skin. Interesting.
I really don’t trust the man. But, he asked before he touched me – his skin was really nice and cool against my burning forehead - and I had let him. (Before this morning, I never knew touch could be such a gentle thing, but it's not a matter I feel comfortable ruminating in some random notebook.) He also told me there was crab noodle soup, another slip-up in his pretence of being ‘just someone’. So, I let myself be carried over to the kitchen and I ate the food he made. He is a good cook. I had known since I took the first bite of my french toast this morning.
This Kunikida reminds me of Odasaku, scribbling in his little notebook and with a heart too big for his own good. He folds just as easily at my requests too, so I got myself neatly wrapped in bandages before dinner. It took a few tries but I also got the answers I wanted out of him. But, the agreement was that I would write in this notebook so I am keeping my end of the deal now.
I am not much of a writer, but now that I have written this much, I feel the want to record everything I’ve learned today. I wish I had started sooner. He’s telling me I need to rest. That I am still unwell. I don’t think he would but, I know he can use force on me if he wishes so. I’d rather not put him in such a situation. Loathe as I am to admit, this man is growing on me.
If I wake up tomorrow with the recollection of writing this, I will take it as a sign to flee from this place.
If I don’t, then… whoever it is that is reading this, apparently you are an amnesiac whose memories get wiped clean every night. You can ask this Kunikida Doppo for details. From what I am told, he is your partner of over three years at a private detective agency.
Until next time,
Dazai Osamu
Executive, Port Mafia
Monday, 23rd March 20XX
Today, when I woke up, I realised I didn’t recognise the room I was in. There was a neatly made futon beside my own, but I didn’t remember spending the night with someone. In fact, I could neither recall myself going to sleep, nor could I recall anything I did on the day prior. I spent a good few minutes racking my brain for any sort of recollection, but it was all empty. Unnerved, I walked myself out of the room. I didn’t recognise the house I found myself in. There was a man working hard at the stove, but I didn’t know who he was. He called me ‘Dazai’, so I asked him if that was my name. I didn’t understand why my question put such a panicked expression on his face.
Soon, a woman arrived. She asked me a few questions. I didn’t have an answer to any of them. They told me that my name is Dazai Osamu. Twenty-three years old. A private detective and a ‘gifted’ – although I did not know what they meant by it. The blonde man – Kunikida – told me I was free to read any of the books in the living room, and then both of them disappeared into the kitchen. Eavesdropping is extremely immoral, so I tried not to pay attention to their discussion. But, I overheard my name – Dazai – being mentioned a few times and I also gathered that they were on a call with a man. When I heard quiet sobs coming from the kitchen, I felt bad. I do not know what I mean to these people, and I do not know what I did to cause them this distress. It must be related to how I can’t seem to recall anything in particular, but I am not sure. I do not remember anything after all.
The blonde man is really nice. He is patient with me and he gives a really warm hug. He also told me to call him ‘Kunikida-kun’. Apparently, it is what I usually call him. I like the way the name rolls off my tongue. It feels familiar for some reason I can’t recall. I got this notebook from him. He told me that I could read the previous entry since I was the one who wrote it yesterday – He said it might help with my memory, but when I read it, it merely felt like I was reading fiction – and that I could write an entry of my own if I wished to. I asked him so many questions today that I lost count, but I think most of those things I only found intriguing because I do not possess any memories of my own. They might not be useful for future reference so I will not bother writing about them. Kunikida-kun wants to go to sleep early tonight. He says he’s exhausted from all the cleaning we did today. I am too, so I will stop here now.
There is one thing I wish to note down though, and I believe this information might hold value to Dazai Osamu. When I asked him if he liked working with me, Kunikida-kun had replied saying he couldn’t have asked for a better partner. I must so lucky to call such a wonderful person my partner.
Whoever it is that is reading this, please be good to Kunikida-kun. Give Yosano-san a hug if you remember her, and get Ranpo-san a strawberry shortcake from the cafe down the street – Kunikida-kun says it’s his favourite.
Sincerely,
Dazai
Tuesday, 24th March 20XX
I do not have the right words to describe the feeling that took hold of me upon realising I had shared a room with my superior. I will admit that at first, I did not recognise the man – he had looked a bit older than I remembered him to be, and I was only half awake. But, that brilliant golden-blonde hair was a special shade I had only ever seen on a person’s head that I immediately found myself sitting upright as soon as I recognised the hair. The man beside me was indeed Kunikida Doppo, my immediate senior at the Armed Detective Agency, but I did not know how I had landed in that situation. I could only find solace in the fact that we had been sleeping on separate futons. And that both of us were fully clothed. Hopefully, I had not screwed up my redemption even before it had begun.
It turned out I hadn’t screwed anything up. And, also I am twenty-three years old now and I am an amnesiac. But, Kunikida-san assured me that my condition was temporary. I could only feel thankful. It’s nothing short of a miracle that I had made out of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s hands alive. He will come for me again, I know. I will have to prepare myself for his next move. While I have no personal attachment to this life of mine, I now have people who rely on me and my wit. Kunikida-san spoke of a mentee – my mentee. He told me I made a great teacher. Only if he knew about Akutagawa-kun. I can only hope I hadn’t broken another unfortunate child. I could barely believe my own ears when Kunikida-san confirmed that my past as the Demon Prodigy had been revealed to the Agency. I will have to thank Shachou later for not kicking me out.
I wish Kunikida-san had given me this book when I was bored out of my mind this morning. Apparently, it had slipped his mind. I wish to read the previous entries and I have so much I want to record. But now, I’m being called over to help unload things from the car - Shachou and Ranpo-san have just arrived from Tokyo. I will try to return to this notebook if I can find the time. But if not, whoever it is that is reading this, take my word and prepare for Dostoevsky’s next move. Protect the people who have given you a place to belong. It’s the least you can do to repay their kindness.
Best of luck,
Dazai Osamu
Wednesday, 25th March 20XX
All messages duly noted.
Dazai Osamu
Private Detective, Armed Detective Agency