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The days were beginning to feel longer than they used to. Waking up before the sun had fully risen used to be somewhat of a luxury- a way to stay productive, and healthy. Nowadays, it was a task performed in search of a solitude denied to him at any other hour. Wake up, enjoy a few moments of privacy, spend thirty minutes preparing a breakfast that will be devoured in less than ten, go to work, and try to keep your kids from starting a fire throughout the day. Nights used to draw on for an eternity, the quiet darkness making up the meaning of life. Now, nights were spent taking the kids out to enjoy a cheap meal for dinner. Or, in some cases, making a last minute trip to the grocery store because your son ran out of snacks.
Fukuzawa holds back a sigh as he stands in line at the cash register. He has thicker skin than this, and could stand to tell his son “no” every once in a while. But some days, exhaustion was only a step away from compliance, and he found it worthwhile to give in rather than allow the conversation to devolve into an argument. Ranpo was a smart kid, after all, one that wouldn’t rest until he was given a valid reason for being turned away.
Before he left the house, he had asked Yosano if she wanted anything while he was at the store. She had given him a half-shrug and said no, which was a common routine. He can practically already hear her saying he “didn’t have to get her anything” when he presents the bag of chocolates he bought her anyway.
He is no pushover, but he can’t be blamed for spoiling his kids every now and then.
The store is an overcrowded headache at this hour- late, but still light enough outside that people are stopping by to make last minute purchases before heading home. Fukuzawa was not especially fond of crowds, they tested his patience far too much and were overwhelming at best. Ranpo and Yosano both had their own problems with crowded spaces, so they had taken to avoiding them as much as possible outside of work. A difficult task in a city as busy as Yokohama, but Fukuzawa had taken the time to find some spots that would be less stressful for the three of them.
He keeps those spots in mind as he makes his way out of the store, exchanging a few kind parting words with the cashier. The street he’d taken on his way here had been crowded enough at the time, and is likely to have only gotten worse during the twenty-five minutes he spent shopping. There’s a path through the forest he could take, but it’s a long walk and the snow is heavy at this time of the year….
It takes him less than a minute to contemplate the decision; for as tiring as the walk may be, he would take the forest any day over the crammed sidewalk. Ranpo and Yosano had been talking about putting on a movie before he left, so they surely won’t mind the extended wait.
He feels the tension dissipate from his shoulders almost immediately as he walks through the forest, allowing his eyes to close for a moment. He never fully lets his guard down- a habit from his former line of work, but times like these allow him more space to properly breathe. Snow falls around him, clinging to his clothing for a few seconds before melting. It surrounds him in a pleasant chill, slowly undoing the knots that had begun to form in his mind earlier.
The cold weather doesn’t faze him all that much, he’s always preferred winter. If Ranpo were here, he would surely be complaining until Fukuzawa could feel blood leaking out of his own ears. An unpleasant thought, but it brings a faint smile to his face nonetheless. He doesn’t smile often, but the past two years have given him more reason to. Even now, on a night as tiring as this one, he feels a bit lighter than he used to. An odd thing to think at his age, but he has never labeled his life as conventional.
He can still hear noises of traffic and people going about their lives in the distance, but the sounds do not insist nor do they intrude. Fukuzawa pays them no mind, focusing only on his surroundings and destination. The path is fairly straightforward, nothing too complex so he doesn’t have to think too deeply about where he’s going. He’s gone this way more times than he can count anyways.
At a certain point, the sounds of the outside world fade to silence, and the moon can be seen above the tall green trees. The sky above him is black, but the stars are out tonight. He finds himself smiling again, despite himself.
Two years ago, he’d taken Ranpo to these woods as part of martial arts training. They had started with basic sparring drills, but Fukuzawa’s end goal had been more calculated. It was a hiding match, one not too different from a classic game of hide-and-seek. Ranpo had been thrilled to do something seemingly more relaxed after training, so Fukuzawa let him have fun with it. What he hadn’t told Ranpo was that the setting was intentional. The forest was large and the possible hiding spots were practically innumerable. It provided a challenge, both to the hider and the seeker. That, and it was a realistic place someone might need to hide in during times of danger. He wanted to make sure Ranpo had such skills in case work ever called for them.
During the first round, it took Fukuzawa around fifteen minutes to find Ranpo. The kid was a genius, but Fukuzawa was hard to fool. He had meant to scold him for choosing such a simplistic hiding spot, but Ranpo looked so ecstatic to be found that he didn’t have the heart. He kept his face neutral as he told him to choose somewhere more creative for round two.
To this day, he isn’t sure how such simple words had such a great effect, but he didn’t find Ranpo until long after dark that night. At first he was impressed, but it didn’t take long for that feeling to turn to frustration and for frustration to turn to fear.
What if someone kidnapped him? What if he took the advice too seriously and went into town? What if he’s stuck somewhere, injured?
Foolish thoughts, ones he still refuses to admit to having, but all those possibilities had seemed so real in the moment. When he finally found Ranpo, he was cleverly hidden in a far corner of the forest behind some bushes and a large rock. Most children would have looked cold and scared after being left someplace like that for so long at night; in fact, Fukuzawa had been preparing an apology as time drew on. But Ranpo had only smiled upon being found, as if he expected Fukuzawa to find him at that exact moment.
“Do I win?”
It wasn’t until later that night, after they’d eaten dinner, that Fukuzawa realized he’d been played. Ranpo had intentionally made his first hiding spot just obvious enough to look like an honest mistake so that he could annoy him in the second round. That was the first and last time they played that game.
The memory makes him laugh now, though he would never admit that to Ranpo. It still gives him a slight headache to think about, but any anger he felt at the time was overshadowed by the amount of relief he felt when he finally found Ranpo.
He is quickly pulled out of his reminiscing by a harsh change in the atmosphere. After years spent as a bodyguard, he can pick up on threatening situations long before they occur. All it takes is a hunch, a feeling that nags uncomfortably at the back of his neck. A single shift is enough to have him raising his guard.
Fukuzawa stills, hand on his sword. He keeps his breathing steady, listening intently for any sounds that may give away his attacker. That’s when he hears it.
Thump.
The noise echoes in the silent forest, disturbing the peace with its force. The sound is heavy, like a large object falling from a high place. It is not overbearingly loud, but it is unmistakable in the quiet of the woods.
Fukuzawa follows the direction it came from immediately, racing forward ready to investigate. He didn’t want to have to fight tonight, but it seems nothing is going as planned. Despite his reluctance, he prepares himself for the worst. He expects many things- a thief on the run, a fight breaking out, a murderer hiding a body, a large animal, even a fallen rock.
What he doesn’t expect to see is a child.
The boy doesn’t look too much younger than Yosano, but one look is all it takes for Fukuzawa to tell that this is no ordinary child. He’s terribly frail, and he looks morbidly still. From a distance, any ordinary onlooker would assume he was dead. Judging by the rope around his neck, that was likely his goal. The other end of the rope is attached to a fallen branch a few feet away from the boy. He lies face down in the snow, brown hair covering most of his face. He looks emotionless and dejected, like he doesn’t even care about his predicament.
Fukuzawa approaches the boy with caution, not wanting to startle him. He’s dealt with enough children to know when they need to be treated delicately, and by the look of this kid, he might as well come with his own warning sticker. The boy doesn’t move, giving away no indication that he even hears Fukuzawa approaching. His fall might have knocked him unconscious, or even paralyzed him. The noose around his neck isn’t tight enough to strangle him, but if it tightened properly before the branch broke it might have been enough to make him pass out. The tree isn’t tall enough that he would have broken anything, but he might have a few scratches. Fukuzawa makes a mental note to check the kid’s injuries.
Upon closer inspection, he notices bandages around the child’s neck and wrists. An uneasy feeling grows in the pit of Fukuzawa’s stomach at the sight, mortification washing over him in powerful waves. He can’t help but imagine his own children like that- with a noose around their necks, covered in bandages. The mental image doesn’t help with his sudden nausea. He will have to have a word with whoever raised this kid.
He crouches down as he reaches the boy’s vicinity, carefully reaching a hand out to shake his shoulder. The child does not react to the sudden movement or their close proximity, but the minute Fukuzawa’s fingertips brush his shoulder-
“Get away from me,” he jumps back, like a startled animal.
Fukuzawa freezes, taking a better look at the boy.
He looks younger than he did at first glance, shaking slightly either out of fear or from the cold. He wears a basic white button up tucked into black slacks which, from the looks of it, might be the only outfit he owns. The clothes are tattered and worn, like he’s had them on for months. His hair is too long and messy, and there’s a bandage on the side of his face that looks like it should have been changed weeks ago. What stands out most about this boy though, are his eyes. Fukuzawa has seen those eyes before, but only on the most miserable of human beings. Eyes that have seen too much of the world, that see no point in living and want for nothing more than death.
“I don’t have any money,” the child speaks, voice uneven. “Whatever you want, I can’t help you with, so leave me alone.”
Fukuzawa relaxes his posture, trying to appear as disarming as possible. “I don’t want anything from you,” he chooses his words carefully. “I just want to help you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
He thinks back to Yosano, and how long it had taken to get her to open up when he first took her in. There had been times when she’d threatened to run away, days when she felt as though she was only being a bother to him and Ranpo. When that happened, it had been difficult to convince her that her presence was more than welcomed. She didn’t appreciate being patronized or condescended, so he often had to think of a logical reason as to why she should stay.
“You need to get that off of your neck,” he points to the rope. “It could hurt you.”
The boy looks down as though he’d forgotten about the noose. When he looks back up, he rolls his eyes. “That’s the point.”
Just as he’d feared.
“Did you try to hang yourself?”
“What does it look like?”
Fukuzawa keeps his expression neutral. He makes mental notes of the situation and their conversation so far, grasping at straws for something that might make this boy listen to him. He looks frightened, and he clearly doesn't like strangers. He has no money, his clothes look old, he probably hasn’t eaten in awhile.
“What happened?”
“The branch broke.”
“No,” Fukuzawa shakes his head. “I mean why did you try to kill yourself?”
“I’m not answering that.”
Well.
This might be more difficult than he thought. He can’t give up though. He knows what kids are like- when you can’t get them to have more serious conversations, you have to ease them into it. Start with smalltalk, get to know them.
“What’s your name?”
The boy pauses before answering. “Osamu Dazai.”
Fukuzawa raises an eyebrow. “Is that your real name?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Fine,” he sighs. “I’m Yukichi Fukuzawa. Where are your parents?”
Still no response.
He thinks back to every difficult conversation he’s ever had with Yosano or Ranpo. When Ranpo was really upset, it was hard to get him to speak. Yosano had a habit of locking herself in her room when the memories got too bad. If Fukuzawa has learned anything from raising the two of them, it’s patience. Usually, when either of them got too overwhelmed with things, he would make them their favorite meal or take them out to eat. Dazai definitely looks like he could use a meal.
“Are you hungry?”
“Why do you ask?”
Geez, this kid is defensive. Fukuzawa dreads to learn what he’s gone through to act this way. Still, he persists.
“I know a cafe not far from here. They serve almost everything. What are you hungry for?”
Dazai seems to think on this, but that empty look never leaves his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“You can have a look at their menu then.”
When someone reaches the point of starvation, they tend to push their personal qualms aside when offered food. He hopes Dazai is no exception to this. If it comes down to it, he’s prepared to drag this child to a restaurant if he refuses to comply. He really, truly hopes that doesn’t have to happen though.
Finally, Dazai speaks.
“I told you, I don’t have any money.”
“I’ll pay.”
The kid’s face lights up. “Really?”
“Yes,” Fukuzawa smiles. “Can I untie this?”
Dazai hesitates, looking unsure. Fukuzawa gives him time to decide, remaining calm so that he doesn’t feel pressured to answer one way or another. At this point, startling him any further is the worst thing Fukuzawa could do. He is visibly uneasy, even at the promise of food, and Fukuzawa wants to do his best to soothe that.
Dazai nods, slowly. “Yeah, okay.”
He is careful not to crowd Dazai’s space too much as he undoes the knot, kicking the rope off to the side. He really should get rid of it so that nobody else stumbles across it and gets the same idea Dazai had, but he doesn’t like the idea of carrying around a long rope with him all the way to the Uzumaki Cafe. When he’s finished, he helps Dazai stand, glancing again at the bandages on his arms. He decides to save any further questions away until the kid has eaten.
Standing up, Dazai somehow looks even younger. He’s tall and lanky, and the ends of his sleeves are frayed. He hunches his shoulders slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Fukuzawa had noticed his eyes earlier, but only now does he really pay attention to the fact that only one of his eyes is visible, a bandage covering his right. He’ll have to ask him about that later too.
“Ready to go?” Fukuzawa asks, giving him a tight smile.
Dazai nods, curtly, but doesn’t say anything. From the way he’s standing, it looks like his ankle might have been injured in the fall. He shakes like a dog in the rain, and Fukuzawa has to once again bite back a flood of questions.
“Alright then,” he coughs. “Let’s get going.”
~
Dazai eats like every bite is going to be his last meal, scarfing down three bowls of ramen while Fukuzawa feigns neutrality. He’s glad he guessed right about Dazai being hungry, because from the look of him, he isn’t sure how much longer this child could have gone without a meal.
The walk here had been a difficult one at best. They made it out of the woods alright but Dazai was poorly hiding a limp the entire time. Another thing about Dazai that quickly became apparent is that, like Fukuzawa, he isn’t fond of crowds. He stood closer to Fukuzawa once they made their way into the city, looking around nervously. It was both endearing and a little off-putting, as most things about Dazai seem to be. Fukuzawa stayed close to him anyways, expecting him to fall over at any given minute from the way he walked. Dazai proves to be fairly self-sufficient however, only pausing two or three times to fix his balance. Fukuzawa makes another mental note to get him crutches.
He sent a quick text to Yosano and Ranpo to let them know he would be late but otherwise he kept a very close eye on Dazai the entire time they walked together. The kid acts unstable, like he might intentionally run into oncoming traffic if you don’t watch him closely enough. He always thought that if he’d adopted Ranpo a few years sooner, he would have been a leash kid. He has a similar feeling about Dazai.
Fukuzawa only gets a bowl of soup for himself, seeing as he had dinner earlier with Ranpo and Yosano. He observes silently as Dazai eats, not wanting to pester him while he’s getting what is probably the first warm meal he’s had in weeks. Dazai seems to appreciate the tranquility, appearing to be in his own world while he eats. He orders a small tray of cookies as a dessert at Dazai’s request, declining when Dazai offers him some. The kid looks guilty, but eats the rest of them nonetheless. By the time he’s finished his meal, he looks significantly brighter.
He almost feels bad when the time comes to begin his interrogation, not wanting to spoil Dazai’s good mood. But he is a man of priority, and he needs to get some important things sorted out before anything else occurs.
“Thanks for the food,” Dazai says, voice lighter than it was before. “As soon as I get some money, I’ll pay you back, promise.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Fukuzawa replies. “All I ask is that you answer a few of my questions.”
He had prepared himself for more arguing, but Dazai only sighs, as though he anticipated this.
“Fine,” he frowns. “I guess that’s fair. Ask away.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
Fukuzawa’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at that. The boy is only one year younger than Yosano, which had been his initial guess, but he looked much younger up close. Far too tired for his age, but still young. Then again, if Dazai has been living like this for a while, it makes sense that his growth would have been stunted.
“Where are your parents?”
The glare he receives in response catches him off-guard. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Are they dead?” He presses.
“I’m not that fortunate, as you can probably tell.”
Fukuzawa frowns. “When was the last time you saw them?”
“Three years ago.”
“Did they leave you?”
“I ran away,” his gaze is suddenly fixated on his precipitating glass of tea.
“I see. Are they looking for you?”
“No, I’ve checked.”
That only raises more questions, but Fukuzawa holds his tongue for now.
“Do you want me to find them for you?” A question with an obvious answer, but it still feels necessary to ask.
“Absolutely not,” Dazai rushes out. “Sorry, just- can we change the subject?”
“Of course.”
He contemplates his next question carefully, wanting to stray from topics that might be too sensitive but knowing that some things still need to be covered. Might as well get the heavy stuff out of the way.
“Where are you living right now?”
“Oh, you know,” he gestures vaguely. “Around.”
Which means he’s homeless. Fukuzawa doesn’t point this out though, not wanting to push the boy too much.
“What are the bandages for?”
Dazai shifts uncomfortably. “Do we have to talk about this stuff?”
“I want to help you.”
“And I can’t be helped, so are we done here?”
“You told me you’d answer my questions,” he purposefully ignores Dazai’s first statement.
“That I did,” he sighs.
This is going to be tough. Things have been going substantially better than he anticipated, but convincing Dazai to actually let him help him might be difficult. Fukuzawa is no stranger to harsh trials though, and surely this child can’t be any more dangerous than some of his old foes- or, in some cases, partners.
“What are the bandages for?” He repeats.
It takes Dazai a moment to answer. “Injuries.”
“Injuries that you inflicted upon yourself?”
“Most of them, yes,” he admits. “But there’s some from other stuff too. Like this one on my head, I got it from falling face-first into a bathroom sink.”
That gets a laugh out of Fukuzawa. “I take it you’re a clumsy kid then?”
Dazai shrugs, defensively. “I’m prone to accidents. I get beat up a lot too.”
“By who?”
“I have a habit of making enemies everywhere I go.”
….That’s another thing they’ll have to talk more about later.
“How many pairs of clothes do you own?” Fukuzawa asks, moving on.
“Just the ones I’ve got on.”
“When was the last time you ate,” he pauses, realizing he should clarify. “Before tonight?”
“Last week.”
“What did you eat?”
“A sandwich,” Dazai stares out the window, wistfully. “It was kinda gross though. I fought a dog for it.”
Fukuzawa blinks. “How do you feel about dogs?”
“Hate them.”
“Are you a cat person then?”
“Yep.”
He gives the boy a soft smile. “I am too.”
Dazai is a strange kid, but Fukuzawa is quickly warming up to him. He reminds him a lot of Yosano, with just a dash of Ranpo’s know-it-all attitude. He bets Dazai would get along with them, if he knew them well. Ranpo and Yosano are both a little hard to get used to, but Fukuzawa himself is like that as well so he can’t really say much. He decides to stick with simple questions to give Dazai a break from the seriousness.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Light blue.”
“Favorite food?”
“Crab.”
“Favorite subject in school?”
“Math,” he contemplates. “Or literature.”
Fukuzawa’s smile comes a little easier now, stress letting up a bit as he listens to Dazai excitedly respond to all of his questions. He thinks of some more good ones to keep him occupied.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Just like that, Dazai’s face drops. Fukuzawa realizes his mistake almost immediately, but makes no move to correct himself, interested in hearing what Dazai has to say. The boy shifts again, staring at nothing in particular while his hands fidget with each other.
“I don’t plan on making it that far,” he finally confesses.
He had been expecting a response like that, but it still makes something deep inside of his chest ache. He’s been told he has a soft spot for kids, that if he keeps adopting orphans he’ll be able to run his own establishment. Those rumors may or may not be true(though, in Fukuzawa’s humble opinion, two kids is hardly too many), but they don’t bother him in the slightest. As a young man, Fukuzawa never saw himself having kids, but meeting Ranpo changed that. He realized he had the opportunity to help people, to do something valuable with his life. The Armed Detective Agency was built upon that mindset, and he will never take that for granted. So if this kid needs help, who is he to turn him back onto the streets?
“Why is it that you want to die?” Fukuzawa asks, hesitantly.
Dazai looks up, taken aback by the question. For a moment, Fukuzawa thinks he might refuse to answer, but he takes his time thinking about it. It dawns on him that this question carries the most weight for Dazai. He has obviously already given it a lot of thought, but it’s still possible he might not even know the answer himself. He needs some time to think it over, so Fukuzawa waits patiently for him to work out a response. When he finally speaks, it’s not what Fukuzawa was expecting.
“Is there really any value in living?”
Since Dazai thought so deeply about his reply, Fukuzawa does the same. He thinks about the life he’s had so far, about all the things he’s seen and done. He thinks about the people he’s met, both the ones he regrets meeting and the ones he wishes he could see again. He thinks about Ranpo and Yosano, and how much they’ve impacted his life in just two years. He thinks about the small things too- like cats and alcohol. He has never wanted to die, but he knows that he is not ready to lose all the things that mean the most to him.
“There are good things in life,” he says. “Bad things too, but life is made of a balance. Feeling both the good and the bad makes you human.”
“I don’t feel anything,” Dazai shakes his head. “Good and bad don’t make a difference to me. Even if my life was easier, it wouldn’t make me happy.”
A realization strikes Fukuzawa at that moment. “Then do the right thing. If good and bad don’t make a difference to you, go with which one makes you a better person. It may not make you happy, but you’ll improve because of it.”
For the first time, something Fukuzawa said truly got through to Dazai. He looks truly struck, mouth parted as his visible eye starts to show a small glimpse of light. It’s as if the world has suddenly shifted on its axis. If anyone else were to see Dazai’s face at this moment, they would think he just had a supernatural encounter. He has been carefully thinking out all of his responses, but for once, Dazai genuinely looks speechless.
Fukuzawa doesn’t know what this boy has been through prior to meeting him, but he knows he won’t ever let him go back to it. Whatever it takes, he will make sure Dazai gets on his feet and turns his life around. It would go against his nature to ignore someone hurting like this, even if it causes him a bit of extra trouble.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Dazai rambles. “I mean I already told you, I have no money, no place to live-”
“I’ll take care of you.”
Dazai falters at that. “What?”
“You clearly don’t have anywhere else to go, and my house is nothing special but I do have an extra room or two I could put you up in.”
He shakes his head rapidly. “But you just met me, I could be a serial killer for all you know. I could be a demon maniac who’s manipulating you just to slit your throat when you least expect it!”
Fukuzawa tilts his head, unimpressed. “Try and fight me right now.”
“....Okay, but how do I know I can trust you? You’re a stranger who just happened to find me in the woods and feed me. There are some really fucked up people out there, I would have to be an idiot to trust you.”
“That is your decision,” Fukuzawa shrugs. “But if you don’t plan on coming with me, I would at least like to find someplace else for you to stay.”
Dazai is quiet again, thinking it over.
Rationally, Fukuzawa knows he’s probably rushing things, but his options are limited in this situation. He does have space at home, and he’s sure Ranpo and Yosano won’t mind an extra roommate. He would rather deal with the complications than make Dazai worry about finding a place to sleep tonight. If Dazai doesn’t want to stay with him, he can surely find an orphanage or apartment to set him up in.
“I run a detective agency for ability users,” Fukuzawa continues. “Even if you don’t have an ability, we could use your help. It would be a way for you to make money and get back on your feet.”
“I do have an ability,” Dazai mutters. “But I don’t like it.”
Fukuzawa leans forward slightly, interested. “What is it?”
Dazai frowns. “I can nullify other people’s abilities. Most people find it irritating though.”
That is….honestly very impressive. He had heard of nullification abilities but he had never known someone with one. To be completely honest, he didn’t believe they existed before now. If Dazai ever gets comfortable using his ability, he could be a very useful member of the Agency.
“I call it No Longer Human.”
He smiles, gently. “That is a very powerful ability. But we won’t force you to use it. Another one of our members, Yosano, doesn't like using her ability either. We’re only after people who want to help others.”
“Kind of counterproductive for an agency meant for ability users, isn’t it?”
“Very funny,” he huffs.
Dazai continues to think about it, finishing the rest of his tea. Fukuzawa gives him time, sparing a glance towards the clock. It’s getting late, and Ranpo and Yosano are probably waiting for him. As much as he’s trying to be patient, he will need Dazai to make a decision soon.
Eventually, Dazai sighs. “I honestly don’t have anything to lose at this point.”
“I will help you find a reason to live,” Fukuzawa vows. “It won’t be an easy task, but I will dedicate myself to it nonetheless.”
Dazai doesn’t look convinced, but he smiles anyway. It’s the first time he’s smiled tonight, and something about it looks….off. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about the expression does not look right. It gives Fukuzawa that same uneasy feeling that keeps returning to his stomach, but he ignores it in favor of heading home soon.
“Thank you,” Dazai says. “Really, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“Your gratitude isn’t necessary,” Fukuzawa reassures. “You don’t need to pay me back either, I never planned on turning you away.”
“You’d be the first.”
He marks that down in his mind as another thing to bring up later, but for now he just reaches over to pat the top of Dazai’s head. The boy stills at the affection, but doesn’t otherwise look uncomfortable. He doesn’t jerk away this time, which is an improvement.
“Come on,” Fukuzawa stands. “We need to head home now. I have two other children that are probably wondering where I am right now.”
Dazai freezes, paling. “There are other people at your house?”
“Of course,” he grins. “There is no reason to look nervous though, they are around the same age as you.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“Ranpo is sixteen and Yosano is fifteen,” he muses, mostly to himself. “So you’ll be the youngest.”
“I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to go.”
“Relax, they don’t bite,” he pulls Dazai up by his shoulder. “And it’s too late to change your mind now.”
“I’ll die,” Dazai protests. “They’ll kill me.”
Yosano does have violent tendencies, but Fukuzawa decides it’s best not to mention that right now.
“Is that not what you want?”
The boy scowls. “I want to go out on my own terms, not to be killed by insane teenagers.”
“Argue on the way, I don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Dazai groans.
~
The walk back to Fukuzawa’s house is mostly quiet, neither of them saying anything as they make their way back into the woods they met at only two hours prior. Dazai’s ankle has been hurting ever since his failed attempt from earlier, but he opts to hide it rather than complain. He’s sure Fukuzawa has noticed by now, anyway.
Dazai has never been good at reading other people. Human beings were complete enigmas to him, he never understood why they did the things they did or why they acted so strangely. His only conclusion was that everyone else was normal and he was the weird one, swapped at birth with some extraterrestrial lifeform. He lives in fear of the humans that surround him, trying to blend in by making them laugh and keeping them happy. Upon meeting him, Dazai was sure Fukuzawa wouldn’t be any different than the humans he feared. It didn’t take him long, however, to realize that Fukuzawa is different. He knew better than to trust others, but for the first time in his life he felt that he might be safe with someone.
That, immediately, drew up red flags in his head. If someone was making him feel safe, buying him food and offering him not only a job, but a place to stay….well, Dazai can only logically assume that he’s being tricked. He knows that child traffickers and murderers run rampant in this city, that he shouldn’t blindly follow a stranger back to his house. But that meal was really good, and it had been so long since he last ate. “Good luck” has never been a thing that Dazai applied to himself, but he hopes the universe will be on his side just this one time.
Dazai often wonders what it might be like to be fortunate, to have everything in life go the way he plans it. His short life has been less of a road to follow, and more of a frozen lake to cross. Every time he manages to take a safe step, his next one breaks the ice, sending him down into freezing water until he’s able to pull his way out again. He is a walking plague, infecting everyone and everything he comes in contact with. Whenever good things come his way, he knows it is only a matter of time before he does something to ruin it.
Maybe he’ll mess this up later. If he does happen to be lucky today, maybe Fukuzawa really is a good person offering to take him in. The universe can let him have a few nights in a proper bed with a roof over his head and then bad fortune can come later. It would be hard to give up a good thing once he has it, but more warm meals would certainly soften the blow. Worse-case-scenario, he can always run away. He’s good at that.
The cold is starting to get to him. He already misses the warmth of the restaurant, and the nice meal he had. His clothes are starting to fray from being worn for so long, offering him little protection from the snow. His shoes are also becoming a poor excuse of what they used to be, and every step he takes feels like walking on rocks. He tries to control his shivering, keeping his arms close to his body.
Fukuzawa notices this, stopping briefly in their walk. “We’re almost there.”
His words are so unbearably reassuring that all Dazai can do is nod, pinching the sides of his own arms to warm the skin there. It doesn’t surprise him that Fukuzawa is a father, even if he wishes he’d been told that sooner. He acts the way that Dazai supposes all parents should act around children, caring and attentive but stern when it’s needed. He still isn’t sure whether or not he can trust the man, but he figures he might as well enjoy kindness when it’s granted.
Just as Fukuzawa had said, it doesn’t take them much longer to approach his house. A one-story building not far from the city, traditional in design with an inviting nature. Dazai’s eyes light up at the sight of it. This, at the very least, confirms that the house Fukuzawa spoke of wasn’t something he made up just to drag Dazai off to a second location. It looks warm too, far warmer than the cold street he stands on now. After walking through the snow, a warm house sounds like finding water in the desert. He wonders what the inside looks like, if it’s neat and organized or messy and unkempt. Dazai doesn’t have a preference, but pondering it makes him curious.
When they approach the front door, Fukuzawa pauses, turning to him. “I should let my children know that you will be joining us. Will you wait out here for a moment?”
Being asked to wait in the cold, even for just a few minutes, feels like a slap to the face. Dazai opens his mouth to protest but Fukuzawa cuts him off.
“I’ll be quick, just don’t run off while I’m gone.”
Dazai nods, relenting. He is a guest, after all, it would be rude of him to start protesting and making outlandish requests before he’s even been invited inside. His feet are already bruised from the rough ground, a little longer in the cold won’t kill him. He waits dutifully when Fukuzawa goes inside, peering through the windows to catch a glimpse of the interior. It looks bright and so, so warm. Dazai envies everybody who gets to be on the other side of that door right now.
A thought occurs to him that this could be the beginning of a trap. Fukuzawa could have made him wait out here so that people could jump out of the bushes and grab him, or so that he can let his colleagues know he’s snatched someone. He could be in there right now talking to a group of menacing people, discussing what to do with Dazai.
He shakes his head at the thoughts, urging them to go away. He already decided that this risk is worth taking, it’s too late to back out now. Even if his mind is urging him to turn around and run, run before they get you, run right now, run, run, run-
Dazai slaps the side of his head for extra effect, hoping his brain gets the message. He promised Fukuzawa he would wait for him, so he will. Being honest for once will surely earn him extra good luck.
Whatever conversation Fukuzawa is having right now is taking longer than he said it would. Dazai can hear distant voices, shouting. They don’t sound angry, but their shock is evident. It makes his stomach churn nervously. The anxiety warms him up in an unpleasant way, causing the palms of his hands to sweat. He wishes they would hurry up and let him in, or tell him to get lost if that’s the plan. At this point, he would almost prefer to be shoved in a van than to have to spend any longer thinking about what will happen next. Dazai has learned to always stay five steps ahead of everyone else out of a need to survive, to prove his usefulness. He doesn’t like being left out of the loop. It makes him feel useless, puts him on edge. He feels like he’s standing on pins and needles right now.
Eventually, the voices get louder and closer. They’re moving towards the door, he realizes. Once again, Dazai considers running away. It’s not too late, he could make it to the woods before they open the door. But no, he’s going to keep his word. His heart is pounding out of his chest by the time the door swings open.
“Ranpo, slow down-”
“I wanna see him! If he’s gonna be staying with us then- oh, hello.”
Dazai blinks at the boy in front of him. He’s shorter than him, but visibly a few years older. Fukuzawa had said he’s sixteen, two years older than Dazai. He doesn’t get along with people in general, but kids in his age group make him nervous on a more visceral, social level. He was well-liked at school for being a class clown, but that was years ago. And even then, all his reputation taught him was that the line between people laughing with you and people laughing at you is thin.
“Can’t talk, can you?”
He realizes Ranpo just asked him a question.
“I can,” he sputters out.
A smile stretches across Ranpo’s face. Dazai doesn’t like the look of it.
“Look at him, he’s adorable!” Ranpo declares. “Can we keep him?”
“He’s not a dog, Ranpo,” Fukuzawa sighs.
Right off the bat, Ranpo reminds Dazai of some of the older boys back at his old school. The loud, popular ones, with their laughter ringing out in the hallway. Dazai always admired them deeply, but the idea of ever talking to them terrified him. Occasionally, one would approach him and try to get him to joke with them. He always froze up and ended up stuttering out whatever clownery came to mind. It only made them talk to him more, but he still isn’t quite sure whether they genuinely liked him or were making fun of him.
In hindsight, Dazai hopes Ranpo doesn’t turn out to be like any of those guys. He has messy black hair and sharp brown eyes that make Dazai feel like he’s being analyzed. His face heats up from the attention as he stands there not quite knowing what to do with himself.
A girl appears behind the two of them and Dazai immediately turns his attention towards her. She’s tall, about the same height as him, and her hair is dark and short. She wears a golden butterfly pin in her hair that immediately catches Dazai’s attention.
She must be Yosano.
The girl makes her way past Fukuzawa and Ranpo, crossing her arms. “Well?”
Dazai nearly jumps at the tone of her voice. “What?”
“What’s your name?”
He realizes that his silence could be taken as rude, so he speaks up quickly. “Osamu Dazai.”
The girl smiles, pleased. “I’m Yosano.”
“And I’m Ranpo! Where are you from? Do you have an ability? What’s your-”
“Let him breathe, kids,” Fukuzawa interrupts. “You’re probably freezing, come inside.”
Ranpo and Yosano simultaneously realize his condition and regard him with wide eyes, guiltily looking away and muttering apologies. The three of them move aside to let him in, and Dazai is immediately hit with a burst of warm air. He relishes in it, letting it wash over him. A warm house is a hard thing for him to come by in the winter. He can hardly believe he’s been invited to stay here, even if he still refuses to get his hopes up about the situation.
The inside of the house is neat like he suspected, but messy in certain areas. The living room, in particular, is completely trashed with junk food and piles of blankets. It is still a lovely home though, and Dazai is never one to judge that sort of thing. Everything looks very organized but still cozy, professional yet very clearly lived in. It looks extremely comfortable, far too nice for someone like him.
He turns around jumping when he realizes how closely the other three are watching him. The reaction makes Ranpo laugh, and Yosano promptly swats him on the back.
“Sorry,” he hides his laugh with a cough. “So what do you think?”
Dazai bows his head slightly. “I like it. Thank you all for having me here.”
“It’s no problem,” Yosano reassures. “Sorry for the mess, Ranpo was supposed to clean it up before you guys got here but he didn’t.”
“No, you were supposed to clean it up!”
“It’s your mess.”
“You made half of it.”
“You made most of it.”
“We agreed to split the clean-up.”
“No, we did not.”
“Ignore them,” Fukuzawa groans. “You probably need to wash up. Yosano, get him some clothes from Ranpo’s room and run him a bath. Ranpo, help me prepare a room for him.”
Dazai’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to do all that. I can sleep on the couch.”
“Nonsense,” Fukuzawa says. “We wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t worth the trouble.”
The words are hard for him to comprehend. Everywhere he’s ever gone, the people around him acted fed up with his existence. Even his own parents thought he was a waste of space. If he’s causing these people any trouble at all, surely they shouldn’t want him around. Nobody wants him around, his suffering only brings other people annoyance or amusement. Not once has someone seen him unhappy and sought to fix it, especially not to this extent. Even when he’s happy, people only regard him with a condescending smile and leave him be.
For as long as he can remember, Dazai has been so tired. He’s glad he left, but he handles life on his own less well than he expected to. Living is hard, and he yearns for a quick and painless way out of it. The only reason he lives is to find something that makes life worthwhile, but at only fourteen years old Dazai is starting to doubt something like that exists. Is this what life is about? Being offered food and a bath when you’re cold? It is a feeling so alien to him. Back when he had all of his basic needs fulfilled, they never came with such unyielding kindness. He knew what the world was like- dog eats dog, an eye for an eye. This world was cruel to people like him simply because people like him deserved cruelness. Some people are born to suffer, and Osamu Dazai had to live with the misfortune of being one of these people.
So why were these three people treating him differently? Why did they speak to him like he had a right to live comfortably? Fukuzawa brought him into his home within hours of knowing him, and had seemingly already made the decision before even bringing it up to Dazai. He fed him, asked questions about him like he cared to know him; offered him shelter, a bath, clothing, and a place to sleep. And the only reasoning he gave for doing so was that he could never turn Dazai out, that he was worth the trouble. But how? How could Dazai be worth the trouble when he has only ever made people detest him? Fukuzawa asked for nothing in return, not even to use his ability. He even offered him a job, and told him he would find someplace else for him to stay if he wasn’t comfortable going home with a stranger.
Dazai feels a hand grab his wrist, and suddenly he’s being pulled into a hallway by Yosano.
“Come on,” she snapped. “Don’t just stand there staring at us. You smell like you haven’t bathed in months.”
She’s not far off. Proper baths are hard to come by when you don’t have regular access to one. He tried to wash himself whenever he had the opportunity, even if he had to use a cold lake. The last bath he had was exactly a month ago, when he’d been working for a factory that made furniture. The owner housed all the underage workers in the top floor of the building, and it was mandatory to bathe at least once a week. The water was cold, and all they had to wash themselves with was a bar of soap, but Dazai appreciated the feeling of being clean. It also gave him a regular time to change his bandages. Without a schedule to remind him, he would frequently forget to change them for extended periods of time and often suffered from infections as a result. He tried to keep up with changing them, but he had too many other concerns at the forefront of his mind to remember basic things like that.
Yosano pulls him into a room that he assumes is Ranpo’s and begins digging through a drawer. He waits awkwardly in the doorway, watching her. His attention is once again turned to the golden hairpin she wears, and he finds himself mesmerized by the design. He should compliment it, it might help break the silence and make Yosano warm up to him. If only he could get himself to speak, to force the words out.
“I like your hairpin,” he blurts.
Shit, he thinks. That sounded so stiff. She’s sure to hate me now.
Yosano looks up. “What did you say?”
“Hm?”
“You mumbled something,” she raises an eyebrow.
Dazai’s entire face goes red. “I said I like your hairpin.”
Yosano’s expression becomes more meaningful, and she reaches up to touch the pin in her hair. For a moment, Dazai thinks he might have offended her. His comment probably made her insecure. He shouldn’t have said anything.
“Oh,” she says, thoughtfully. “Thank you. This one’s mine though, a friend gave it to me.”
He immediately wishes he hadn’t said anything. He’s already intruding on her home and now she thinks he wants her hairpin that someone gave to her as a gift. All he meant to do was let her know he likes it so that she might want to be his friend. It’s been so long since he’s had to make casual conversation with someone like this, he has no idea how to go about it. He has been in this house for a total of ten minutes and he’s already made a fool of himself. Surely, they’ll ask him to leave tomorrow.
“I have more in my room though,” Yosano adds. “If you’d like to look at them.”
Relief fills him immediately, and he has to suppress a sigh. She doesn’t hate him. She even offered to lend him some of her hairpins, that has to be a good sign.
“Ranpo steals them all the time,” she continues, conversationally. “Some of them, he still hasn’t given back. I’ll let you borrow some but you have to give them back, I’ve nearly strangled Ranpo for not returning certain ones.”
Dazai tries not to look alarmed at that. “I’ll return all of them,” he swears, even though he doesn’t entirely trust himself to keep that promise.
“I’m sure you will,” she grins. When she stands up, she has a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt in her hand. “You and Ranpo are built differently but these should fit for tonight. We’ll take you shopping tomorrow to get a new wardrobe- no offense, but you should go ahead and throw those clothes out. The shoes too.”
He finds himself nodding on instinct. “Right, I’ll do that.”
Yosano gives him an odd look, and for a minute Dazai thinks she might say something, but she only shakes her head. She makes her way back out into the hallway and Dazai follows her.
He hasn’t known her for long, but Dazai likes Yosano. She’s very direct, but something about her makes him feel more at ease than he does with Fukuzawa or Ranpo. Her bluntness leaves no room for confusion, and she gives him very clear instructions when he needs to do things. He hopes he does get to look at her hairpins, and maybe even borrow some. His own sense of style was very impersonal and professional, but Yosano seems smart enough to give him some pointers if they end up going shopping tomorrow like she said. He can’t even begin to imagine what he would buy if given the option to choose his own clothes. Before he’d left home, his mother chose all of his outfits. The thought of being able to shop for himself sends a thrill of excitement up his spine.
Dazai finds himself waiting in the doorway again while Yosano fills the tub. He tries not to be obvious about watching her, racking his mind for things to say. Most people would not take him for an introvert, but unless he knows someone well enough, he has to put on an act if he wants to be a good conversationalist. The role of the clown has always come naturally to him, but he’s been on his own for so long that he can hardly remember how to play it. Maybe he’ll wow them all tomorrow with his charm, after a full night of sleep; but the eventful day has killed any creativity that might have otherwise been present in his mind.
When the tub fills up about half way, Yosano turns the water off. “There is soap and water beside the tub,” she explains. “And there are bandages in the closet in case you need to change yours. You probably should, that one on your face looks grimy.”
He reaches up to touch the bandage, frowning.
“Oh, don’t look so pitiful,” Yosano laughs. “I used to heal people, I’m only saying that for your health.”
Dazai wonders how someone his age could have experience in the medical field, but he doesn’t say anything. He can imagine Yosano healing people, she’s very helpful in a direct, no-nonsense sort of way.
Before he can get lost in his thoughts again, he notices Yosano moving towards the closet. He opens his mouth to ask what she’s doing, but shuts it when he sees a stack of razors in her hand. His stomach drops.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she says, carefully. “But I doubt those bandages on your arms are from scratches.”
“Maybe they are,” he shoots back, defensively.
“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” her voice leaves no room for argument. “Don’t stay in there too long, Ranpo’s gonna be waiting to take you to your room. He gets pissy when he doesn’t have enough sleep.”
Dazai laughs, despite himself. “Thank you.”
Yosano purses her lips. “No problem. I’ll give you some privacy, then.”
She shuts the door behind her, leaving Dazai alone in the bathroom. For a moment, he just stands there dumbly. The first thought he has is that he could try to kill himself again by turning the water all the way to hot and getting in. It would be painful, and probably take awhile, but they wouldn’t suspect anything.
He curses himself for thinking about suicide at a time like this. These people have been so nice to him and here he is, ready to leave a dead body in their house. So much for appreciating a good thing while it lasts.
With that thought in his mind, he locks the door and starts moving. He undresses quickly, throwing his clothes away like they’re infested with the plague. Considering how long he’s been wearing them, they probably are. He is slower about taking the bandages off, cringing at the grime beneath them. He takes his time carefully removing each set, starting with the one on his face and then moving to the ones on his arms. He saves the one on his face for last, and decides he won’t redo that one since the wound has healed. He examines the scars on his arms, checking on the more recent ones to make sure they haven’t gotten infected. Deciding they look fine, he gets in the tub.
The door is already locked, but he pulls back the curtain for extra privacy. The thought of anyone seeing him without his bandages on makes him physically ill. He’s a tough kid, and he can handle a lot, but some things are still too much for him.
The water is warm in the nicest, most welcoming way possible. It feels like being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, like eating fresh cookies at Christmas time. Dazai is glad he remembered to thank Yosano before she left, because the gentle heat from the water only makes him more grateful towards her. He allows himself to sit for a few minutes and rest after the long day he’s had, but he doesn’t forget what Yosano said about him needing to make this quick. He washes himself diligently, starting at his arms to make sure the cuts there stay clean. Looking at his skin like this usually makes him uneasy, makes him want to reach for the nearest sharp object and tear it all off. The calm of the room fights off any of these thoughts, and he feels content to focus instead on getting clean.
He washes his hair last, enjoying the way water rushes down his face and back when he rinses the shampoo out. The feeling makes him smile and let out a soft laugh, the sound ringing off of the bathroom walls. He can hear Ranpo and Fukuzawa arguing over something in the distance, which adds to the comfort in an odd way. Somehow he already feels so familiar with these people who were complete strangers to him until very recently. Against his better judgment, he feels at ease here. He’s not so silly as to hope for something this nice to last, but he figures he should go along while it does.
Dazai doesn’t hang around in the tub long after he finishes washing. Once he deems himself clean enough, he lets the water drain and wraps himself in the soft beige towel Yosano laid out for him. He really should thank her again after this, she did more than she should have. Thinking back to her instructions about the bandages, Dazai searches the closet until he finds a first aid kit. Just as Yosano said, there is a roll of bandages inside along with multiple variations of bandaids.
He examines the wound on his face and realizes that it has mostly healed by now, leaving behind a barely-noticeable pink scar that will be completely healed by tomorrow morning. He supposes he won’t need to reapply anything there either.
Not wanting to linger too much on his appearance, he moves away from the mirror and sits on the side of the bathtub to reapply his bandages. He wraps only the more visible parts of his body- arms, neck, and ankles- deciding to cover the rest when he has access to his own set of bandages so that he doesn’t waste too much of Yosano’s. The pajamas she selected for him cover his body well enough anyways, save for his upper arms. He decides he can deal with seeing that much of his own skin for just one night.
When he leaves the bathroom, Ranpo is already waiting for him in the hallway. The sight of the other male makes him jump slightly.
“I can see both your eyes!” Ranpo cheers. “How was the bath?”
Dazai shifts. “It was nice. I will have to thank Yosano again later.”
To Dazai’s mortification, Ranpo giggles. “You’re so polite.”
“I’m sorry,” he falters.
That only makes Ranpo laugh again, louder this time. “I like you already. Now c’mon, I need to show you your new room.”
He takes Dazai’s wrist, just as Yosano had done earlier. The action makes Dazai’s heart leap in his chest, his nerves from earlier returning. He does his best to look unaffected, but silently wonders why both Ranpo and Yosano are so forward and impatient.
It must run in the family, he thinks with a snicker.
Ranpo looks back at him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Dazai grins.
Dazai can’t quite understand Ranpo. He thinks he likes him, but the older boy also makes him somewhat nervous. He acts very loud, and can be condescending, which Dazai isn’t fond of. Fukuzawa didn’t say anything about him having an ability, but Dazai is sure that someone like this must be extraordinarily talented. He could easily ask him right now, but he worries that whatever response he might receive could be totally unpredictable. If he ends up staying here for a while, he will probably find out eventually anyways.
They make their way into a bedroom near the front of the hall and Ranpo lets him walk in first, eyeing him expectantly.
“Ta-da!” Ranpo exclaims. “What do you think? It’s right across from mine, so we can be roomies.”
It’s a nice room, for something put together last-minute. There isn’t much furniture other than a futon, a wardrobe, and a desk, but everything is very neatly organized. The blanket on the futon is light blue- which, Dazai realizes, is the same color he’d given Fukuzawa when asked what his favorite was. He smiles slightly at the sight. There is also a window on the back wall of the room, and a closet to the right of the futon. It looks comfortable to live in, Dazai supposes he will be happy here.
He turns to Ranpo, still smiling. “I like it.”
“Of course you do,” Ranpo waves him off. “I picked it out.”
“Really?”
“Yep,” he stretches his arms over his head. “My room is so far away from the others, I guess I wanted someone close by.”
Dazai’s cheeks turn a dusty pink at the confession. “I’ll have to warn you, I’m not the best company.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
He wishes Ranpo and the others wouldn’t be so nice. It makes him feel warm inside, a feeling somehow more meaningful than material warmth. He has no name for the feeling, and all it does is give him another human thing to be confused about. If they treated him like everyone else does, it would be easier for him to forget about them after this is over.
They stand there in an awkward silence for a bit, unsure of what to do, until Ranpo finally speaks.
“Well,” he claps. “You’re probably exhausted, I’ll let you get some rest. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight,” Dazai replies.
Right as he’s about to leave, Ranpo pauses in the doorway and turns back around. He stands there for a minute, squinting at Dazai like he’s trying to deduce something about him. It makes Dazai feel antsy, like he’s expected to star in a play without being given a script.
“Hey,” Ranpo says, after a beat. “Just so you know, we wouldn’t have you here if we didn’t want you. I don’t know why Fukuzawa picked you up, but it must have been for a good reason. You’re here to stay, whether you like it or not. So don’t overthink this so much.”
Dazai exhales. “When you put it like that, how can I not overthink it?”
“I know you think you’re smart,” he continues. “But I’m smarter than you. So just trust me on this one.”
He wants to argue with the unexpectedly offensive comment, but Ranpo is already out the door by the time he opens his mouth.
“Goodnight!” He yells back, as if nothing happened.
Once again, Dazai finds himself standing in an empty room unsure of what to do. Where did all that come from? How did Ranpo know what he was thinking? Why is everyone in this family so fucking blunt all the time? He decides he’ll take Ranpo’s advice by not overthinking that part right now. He can already feel himself getting a headache the longer he lingers on it.
He shuts the door and flicks the light off, pulling the green window curtains shut.
Dazai doesn’t immediately shut his eyes when he lies down. He doesn’t even pull the covers over himself at first, content to just lie there quietly and stare at the ceiling. His head has been spinning since they left the restaurant, and the bath didn’t allow him much time to reflect, so he takes a moment to think back on the events of the day. He woke up in the same alley he fell asleep in the night before, walked around the city looking for somewhere to find food, and at a certain point in his journey he made up his mind about what he would be doing later that night. He still can’t name what it was that set him off, but after hours of coming up empty, it clicked for him. It was nothing he hadn’t tried before, and he still had a rope on hand from his last failed attempt. So that night, when he was sure no one would be around, he went into the woods and hung himself. Only he didn’t hang himself, because the branch he chose couldn’t support his weight. Fukuzawa found him, took him to a cafe, fed him, asked him questions, and then invited him to live with him and work for him. Then they went back to his house and Ranpo and Yosano helped him get a bath and a room to sleep in. And so on.
He doesn’t even remember the first part of the day, and he struggles to wrap his head around the fact that it has only been three or four hours since he met Fukuzawa. It feels like an eternity has passed. He planned to be dead by now, but here he is. He feels as though he will never again be the boy he was when he woke up this morning. A line was drawn dividing his life before and after tonight, and he can never go back to the way things were.
The most twisted part of it all is that he doesn’t hate the feeling. It terrifies him, and he distrusts it, but he would be a liar if he said it didn’t feel nice. It shouldn’t feel nice, he doesn’t deserve good things, but this is happening whether he thinks he deserves it or not; and that is the hardest part for him to understand.
Ranpo’s words ring in his head even when he tries to sleep. “You’re here to stay, whether you like it or not.” Did he really mean that? Were they really going to let Dazai stay here? They know nothing about him, surely they will grow to hate him. But that hasn’t happened yet, so it doesn’t make sense to assume that it will. Even if he fully believes it will happen, Ranpo said to trust him, and Ranpo has been so nice to him. He said he liked him, that he wanted their rooms to be close together, he told him not to overthink things. When Dazai said he wasn’t good company, Ranpo dismissed it immediately.
Then there’s Yosano, who encouraged him to speak and offered to let him borrow her hairpins. She took the razors out of the bathroom so that he couldn’t hurt himself, and reminded him to change his bandages. She got him fresh clothes and ran him a bath. Moreover, she made him feel comfortable. He didn’t feel comfortable around most people, but Yosano was different. That has to count for something.
And, of course, Fukuzawa. The man knew nothing about him, and yet he still took him under his wing. He did so simply because he wanted to help Dazai, because he didn’t want him to have to stay on the streets. He helped him untie the rope around his neck, and bought him more food than Dazai ever thought he’d see in his life. He vowed to give him a reason to live, and told him that he can still do good even if nothing makes him happy. He offered him a job, gave him a place to stay, told him he didn’t have to use his ability. Fukuzawa had found him in a miserable situation and decided to help him for no other reason than believing it was the right thing to do.
Dazai really doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He knows who he is and what kind of luck he receives. Anything worth wanting is lost the moment he obtains it. The only thing in this world that can save him is a quick and painless death. If he gets too hopeful right now, he’ll only be more disappointed later on.
And yet.
There in the silent darkness of his new room, gazing up at the ceiling as if it will grant him some sort of answer, he wonders if maybe things will be different this time. It’s a dangerous thought, one he knows better than to have. But thinking is not a crime. If Fukuzawa, Ranpo, and Yosano really are good people, then all he has to do is try not to mess this up. Even if he does mess up, they seem like the types to give him a second chance. He hopes they give him many chances, because he is known for messing up frequently.
Trust and hope are not things that come naturally to Dazai, but he can learn. He wants to learn, and Fukuzawa was patient with him earlier so maybe he could help him with that too. It won’t be easy, by any means; but he knows, deep in his soul, that it could be worth it. He could be somebody else, someone more worthy of love and affection. He’ll continue to thank these people for their kindness. He will return every hairpin Yosano lends him and indulge Ranpo’s apparent desire for a roommate. He’ll work at the Detective Agency, using his ability for something good. He’ll remember to change his bandages and take baths regularly.
He knows he can’t live up to all of those standards, but for once he lets himself pretend. He pretends that he already is a different person, like Fukuzawa will be able to give him a reason to live. Regular meals and baths, a place to sleep, a nice house with a kind family, a job….are these not already things to live for? He figures he’ll have to give himself more time to decide that.
For now, he lets his eyes drop and finally allows himself the rest he so desperately craves. Tomorrow brings a new day. He will try to impress everybody by making them laugh at breakfast, and then they can all go shopping like Yosano said. That much, he has a plan for. He will be a new person tomorrow, someone capable of things like pleasant meals and shopping trips. And the day after that? He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.