Chapter Text
Considering it was already October, the weather was still pretty good. He looked down at his worn out sneakers and was lost in thought when suddenly someone sat down next to him. That didn’t bother Osamu Dazai much, and he refocused on scrutinizing his shoes. He was bored, skipping school yet again today. Not that he particularly liked it there anyways. Quite the opposite, actually.
“What a beautiful day.” A voice suddenly said next to him.
Dazai looked up, then to the side. The man who had sat next to him was looking at him and smiling. He had black hair, tied back. Around his neck hung a lanyard with some kind of ID. His shirt was white, perfectly ironed. Why was this guy trying to start a conversation now? Dazai guessed him to be about thirty. Maybe a little older or younger. It was hard to tell. Dazai just nodded silently.
“Say, don’t you have school?” the stranger asked.
“I do.” Dazai answered honestly. What could this man do about it anyway? It wasn’t his problem if some random boy was skipping class, hanging around at a public park.
“Are you playing hooky then?” The man lit a cigarette.
“I guess so.” Dazai shrugged. Somehow he didn’t mind having a conversation to kill some time. He didn’t have anything better to do anyway. The stranger also didn’t seem threatening at all. Not the slightest trace of danger came from him. He was probably just very bored too. Maybe even the social butterfly type.
“I work over there at the hospital.” The man pointed toward the south exit of the park. A large building stood there. “I’m a doctor.”
A doctor? That actually worked out quite well. Dazai had countless questions and needed answers. Many answers. There was so much he wanted to talk about with a doctor, but until now he had never dared. It was uncomfortable to talk about things so private. He didn’t have the courage to just walk into a clinic and go through with everything that entailed. He simply lacked the guts.
“Cool.” Dazai said instead, nibbling on his lower lip.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your school you’re skipping. I was once young too.” The man winked. Then, glancing at the boy’s uniform, he said: “So, Hitsuji Naka Middle School. I see. Do you like it there?”
Dazai didn’t have to think long about an answer. “No. I hate it there. I hate everything about it.”
“I see. Why’s that?” The man took a drag from his cigarette. He was really curious.
“The other kids are all annoying and… mean.” Saying it out loud felt a little uncomfortable.
“Mean? I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask why?” Yes, the man indeed was pretty curious, but that didn’t bother Dazai. It wasn’t like he really had anyone else to talk to.
“Because I’m different. They make fun of me, say I’m… a girl." Dazai said quietly. The last part was barely audible. Just saying it made him feel sick.
For a few seconds, the doctor studied the boy intently. Then he nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. But being different is a good thing, believe me. As far as I can see, you’re a boy. That’s perfectly clear. Kids can be cruel. Still, you shouldn’t miss school. You want to get through this time as fast as possible, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Dazai said. Somehow the man radiated something calming and kind. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something familiar about him. In a good way, that is.
“I should get going. Work calls. By the way, I’m Mori Ougai. Maybe we’ll see each other again.” He stood up, smiled, and left with his hands in his coat pockets. Dazai watched him for a while. What a shame—he would have loved to ask this man so many things. But that surely would have come across as strange. When would he ever get the chance again to chat with a real doctor in such a relaxed setting? Probably never.
...
Dazai turned his key in the lock and entered the small apartment. As always, it smelled of cigarette smoke and incense sticks. He took off his shoes, slipped into the old house slippers, and went inside. He tossed his backpack into the corner.
“Osamu-chan. How was school?” His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. Dazai hated it when she called him -chan. She wore a dark green dress with a deep neckline. She always wore such revealing clothes. Her eyes were glassy—she had probably been drinking.
“Hello.” He said, ready to retreat into his room. He wanted to be alone.
“Wait a moment. I have something for you. A surprise.” His mother seemed excited about the so-called surprise, but Dazai had a bad feeling. He knew his Mother very well.
He followed her into the kitchen, where a full glass of wine sat next to an almost empty bottle. Typical. Noon and already drunk. She took a sip and gestured toward a square box lying on the table. A pink ribbon was tied around it. Dazai’s heart grew unbearably heavy.
“For you!” His mother picked up the box and handed it to her son.
Dazai felt his stomach twist into knots, his brows furrowed, and he forced himself to hold it together as best he could. “Thank you.”
He quickly untied the ribbon and set it on the table. Then he carefully lifted the lid from the box.
“Since you don’t like pink, I thought maybe a blue one would please you,” his mother said.
Through gritted teeth, Dazai pulled the blue dress with white frills out of the box. He wanted to start crying, felt his lower lip begin to tremble. He wanted to tell his mother that he hated dresses. That he hated pink gift ribbons. That now he hated himself even more than usual. But all he whispered was a hoarse, “Thank you.”
“Aren’t you happy at all?” His mother took another sip. She looked somewhat disappointed. “I even went to the mall just for this. Just for you.”
“I… I don’t wear dresses.” Dazai whispered, eyes cast downward.
“I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.” The woman spoke more to herself than to him. “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you be happy? Why can’t you just be normal? Do you know what it’s like for me? How embarrassing it was when I had to talk to your school principal because you refused to wear the girls’ uniform? You keep cutting your beautiful soft hair off! Why can’t you just behave like a normal girl? I have a daughter! I'm supposed to have a daughter! What the hell did I do wrong with you?” She drained the glass in one gulp.
Tears welled up in Dazai’s eyes. Those words hurt. They hurt unbearably. His mother didn’t want to accept him. She refused to acknowledge reality. And reality was that Osamu Dazai was a boy. He had always been a boy. That would never change. He knew that. But his mother made it harder than anything.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve before leaving the kitchen. He went to his room and curled up on his futon. The tears came, and for the countless time, Dazai wished he were someone else. But his wishes and prayers went unheard, as always.
...
When he sat on the bus the next morning (he had thought about that doctor’s words—that he should go to school so it would be over quickly), his forearm ached. Yesterday he hadn’t known what to do with all the sadness and frustration. Like most times in those moments, he had reached for the razor blade. For a moment, it always got better then. But only for a moment. What stayed was the stinging pain and the scars. But his mother had hurt him so badly yesterday. That wasn’t new, but every time, it was still awful. He was a stranger in his own home.
The bus stopped, the doors opened with a hiss, and a few new passengers boarded. Dazai recognized the uniform of his school, and the boy wearing it sat down next to him.
Somehow Dazai couldn’t help but stare at him. He was unbelievably handsome. He looked foreign, and Dazai wanted badly to ask where he was from. His staring didn’t seem to go unnoticed, because the boy turned to Dazai and said:
“What the hell are you staring at?”
“Sorry,” Dazai mumbled, embarrassed.
“Oh! You go to Hitsuji Naka Chūgaku too?” the boy suddenly asked, didn't seem weirded out anymore at all. Yeah, Dazai had never seen him before. Maybe he was new here?
“Yes. Are you new?” Dazai asked.
The boy nodded. “Yep. Today’s my first day.”
His first day, huh. That meant this guy didn’t know who Dazai was, what the other kids said about him, or how they treated him. That was good. Maybe even a chance.
“So where are you from?” Dazai wanted to know.
“France. But my dad is Japanese. We moved to Yokohama a week ago.”
“How cool! I’ve never been outside of Japan. What’s France like?” It was unusual for Dazai to talk so much. Normally he was more of a shy kid.
“It’s alright, I guess. Warmer than over here. Say, is there anything I should know about the school before my first day?”
Dazai wondered if he should tell the truth. Then he said: “They can be pretty mean.”
The other raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? What do you mean?”
To avoid giving away too much about himself, Dazai said: “You’ll find out. Just don’t show any weakness.”
“I think that’s the same at every school.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m Nakahara Chuuya, by the way.” He held out his hand. An extremely Western gesture. Dazai thought that was kind of cool.
“I’m Osamu Dazai.” He hoped that maybe something like a friendship could grow between them, because the conditions were perfect. Chuuya didn’t know what a loser Dazai was, and he didn’t seem to notice anything about his secret either. Having a real friend had to be amazing! What must that feel like? And then someone as cool and mysterious as Chuuya, too!
Please, please, dear God! Make us become friends, Dazai prayed silently.
Then the bus stopped. They had to get off.
In silence they walked toward the school entrance next to each other. Then Dazai suddenly felt an arm around his waist. Fuck no...
“Well, what’s up, sweetie?” It was Tachihara. One of the guys who bullied Dazai. And now, of all times, in front of Chuuya—it was so damn embarrassing.
“Let go of me,” Dazai whispered.
“What? I can’t hear you,” Tachihara grinned smugly.
“Bro, he said to leave him alone,” Chuuya suddenly said, standing in front of the other two now. How cool was that? No one had ever stood up for Dazai before. It was like a miracle.
“And you are?” Tachihara let go of Dazai. Thank goodness.
“Nakahara Chuuya. I’m new.”
The grin on Tachihara’s face widened. “Then I guess it’s time someone explained a thing or two to you, huh?” He looked over at Dazai, who felt his face flush red. This was going to be uncomfortable, and now he could forget about being friends with the new kid. What a shame. Dazai never got lucky.
“So,” he continued. “Our little Dazai-chan is very confused. He actually thinks he’s a boy. Pretty weird, isn't it? He’s completely lost it.”
Chuuya grimaced. That was it. “I couldn’t care less. None of my fucking business. Besides, Dazai-kun looks like a boy to me, so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that information.”
What? No one had ever reacted so casually before. Was Chuuya for real? One thing was certain: he was too good for this world. Dazai’s heart suddenly started beating a little faster. Strange.
They left behind a completely dumbfounded Tachihara. He clearly hadn’t expected that kind of comeback. Dazai felt embarrassed, grateful, and completely at a loss for words all at once. It was a whole new feeling.
The school bell rang. Tachihara clicked his tongue. “Little bitch…” he hissed at Dazai, as he passed him, then went inside the building.
Chuuya looked at Dazai. “You alright?”
Dazai only nodded. Damn, that had been uncomfortable! “Thank you...I’ll… I’ll get going then,” he muttered, and, full of shame, made his way to his first class. What a strange start to the day.
...
It was lunch break. As always, Dazai had hidden himself away in the basement hallway. Hardly anyone ever spent their breaks down here besides him. So he crouched there, his back leaning against the wall, eating his bento. His mother never made one for him, so he bought them at the convenience store. Sometimes, though, he had no money and went the entire school day without eating. He was used to it, though. No wonder he was so skinny.
He froze when he heard footsteps echoing down the corridor. They weren’t supposed to be down here during breaks. Hopefully it wasn’t a teacher. But turns out: no—it was much worse.
Dazai saw a very particular upperclassman approaching him. Anything but that, Dazai thought. He felt dizzy, anxiety washed over him. But he was frozen like stone.
“There you are, my cute little mouse,” Fyodor Dostoyevsky cooed, amused. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Dazai couldn’t get a word out, only stared at him wide-eyed.
“You’re such a loser! Hiding down here like some idiot, eating your bento all alone. I’ve got something much better you can put in your mouth.”
“Now come on.” Fyodor grabbed Dazai firmly by the wrist and yanked him up. What was coming next was the thing he hated most of all. All the insults were nothing compared to it.
Fyodor dragged him into the boys’ bathroom. “Feels good to be in here, doesn’t it?” he grinned crookedly. Then he shoved Dazai against the cold tiled wall and whispered in his ear:
“You’ll never be a boy, and we both know how much you love it when I touch you. You love being treated like a girl.”
His hand closed around Dazai’s throat. Dazai couldn’t breathe; he made desperate choking sounds.
Then Fyodor started kissing his neck. Dazai wanted to leave. He wanted to disappear. He hated this so much. So. Much. He felt Fyodor’s tongue licking his skin and it made him sick. When the hand let go of Dazai’s neck, he whispered: „Please…s-stop…“ an attempt of hope. Obviously useless.
„But you love this.“ Fyodor’s slim fingers undid the other’s belt, unzipped his pants. Dazai shut his eyes close, as he felt a finger entering his hole. You could hear wet sounds already.
„So wet…“ Fyodor hummed. Dazai hated how this made his body react like this. Still he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t as if he was enjoying this. At all. Maybe his body just knew, this would hurt less if wet. Now two fingers pushed inside of him.
„Ahhh…“ Dazai moaned.
„So tight around my fingers…“ the older student was enjoying this way too much. He pressed his hard dick against Dazai, started rubbing against him. Fingers were still inside, moving around and making Dazai squirm. Tears welled up in the brunette’s eyes. He felt so dirty and so used.
In these moments he was reminded of the fact, that his body was female. So very female. At least Fyodor didn’t get under Dazai’s tight sports bra to touch his tiny tits. The bra was so tight, sometimes Dazai got nauseous. If only he had the money to afford a binder. Just as Fyodor, breathing hardly, was about to open his belt to do even more unholy things to poor Dazai, the door opened.
“Shit!” Fyodor hissed and shoved Dazai away from him. He fell to the floor, completely out of breath. Everything felt strange, as though he weren’t really part of the scene. A senior student had entered and glanced briefly at Dazai. But he didn’t seem to care much and went into one of the stalls. No one ever cared to be honest. Expect for...Chuuya it seemed.
On autopilot, Dazai pulled up his pants and buckled his belt as he left the bathroom. Hopefully Fyodor would leave him alone now. He fought hard not to break down crying. He could still feel those fingers in him, still feel the wetness in his underwear. He wanted to die.
Without looking back, he walked quickly out of the building.
To hell with school, he thought. To hell with everything! He held himself together until he reached his favorite bench in the park. Then he pulled his knees up to his chest, buried his head, and began to cry. The tears kept flowing and flowing. What would have happened if that guy hadn’t walked into the bathroom? Then Fyodor surely would have gone further.
Ever since Dazai had started at Hitsuji, he had been the Russian student’s victim. Fyodor had touched him and done worse. He and his friends loved tormenting Dazai, hurting him in every possible way. Once again, Dazai asked himself why he couldn’t just be normal. Just like everyone else. He sobbed, not caring what passersby thought. He felt so fucking disgusting.
Then a hand rested on his shoulder. “Hey,” said a familiar voice. A calming voice. Gentle and kind. Dazai looked up and saw Mori. With worried eyes, Mori gazed down at the boy. “May I sit with you?” he asked.
“P-please,” Dazai said, his voice broken. For some reason, this doctor was the only person in the world who didn’t seem to judge him, not even a little.
“Would you like to tell me what happened?” Mori put an arm around Dazai, who leaned against him. Mori smelled nice, and Dazai closed his eyes. He felt safe.
“A boy from my school…,” he didn’t want to say it out loud—doing so would make it more real. But he had to. Mori would understand. “He just… did stuff to me… down there. Ah-I didn't want it...” That was all he could get out.
Mori’s hand gently stroked the boy’s upper arm. It felt good, relaxing. “I see. Do your parents know about this?”
“No,” Dazai whispered. Even when he came home with a black eye or a split lip, his mother never asked questions. She loved to look away, to ignore things, and was usually drunk. She barely noticed anything about her son.
“Does anyone at all know?”
“No.”
Mori sighed. “Listen, that sort of thing must never happen. Under no circumstances. I may seem like some crazy stranger, but you can trust me. And to be honest,” he paused, “I think I can help you.”
Help him? With tear-stained eyes, Dazai looked up at the adult. “What do you mean, sensei?”
“Well,” Mori considered, “first it’s important that you understand what you have, what is going on inside that pretty head of yours. Do you know what it’s called? That you’re a boy in your mind.”
Dazai wasn’t very knowledgeable on this topic. He had once read that some people were born in the wrong body, but for him it had always been clear. He had done a little research, had come across binders. But there hadn’t been many articles. So he said nothing.
“That’s called transgender. And you know what the good thing is? You can fully become what you are inside. Physically, I mean,” Mori explained.
“Really?” Dazai asked, sitting up straighter. He wished for nothing more than to be a real boy. He would give anything for it. And if Mori could help him, then he would do whatever it took.
Mori nodded. “Exactly. There are hormones and therapies. Even surgeries. Gender-affirming procedures.”
“My mother would never allow me that,” Dazai murmured. He knew that woman. She wanted her little girl back. She constantly called Dazai her daughter. No wonder he so often felt the need to hurt himself. His mother simply didn’t respect him.
“If you’d like, I can talk to her. She’ll surely take the opinion of a doctor seriously,” Mori suggested.
Dazai couldn’t believe what was happening. Was he dreaming? This stranger was standing up for him more than anyone ever had before.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“It’s my job. I know how it can end if someone with your condition isn’t given help. I’m only doing what I must as a doctor. Besides, you’re a very kind and bright boy. I can sense that you’re something special.”
Those words felt unbelievably good—Dazai’s heart warmed. This Mori was the best. An angel. A true angel. Dazai felt excitement rise within him. If this really worked out, it would be the greatest thing ever!
“Thank you!” Now Dazai was beaming from ear to ear, completely forgetting what had happened just minutes earlier in the bathroom.
“Do you know when your mother is free?” Mori asked.
“Pretty much always.” They lived on welfare. Sometimes his mother brought strange men home, and Dazai could hear them doing disgusting things.
“Then give me your address and I’ll come by tomorrow evening. Feel free to tell your mother,” Mori winked, then stood up.
Hurriedly, Dazai scribbled his address on a torn piece of paper and stood up. He handed the slip to Mori, then bowed. “Thank you so much, sensei!”
Mori ruffled the boy’s hair, and Dazai couldn’t help but hug him. He was incredibly grateful.
“Well then, I should get back. My smoke break is over.”
“See you tomorrow!” Dazai smiled and watched the doctor walk off toward the hospital.
That night, Dazai had a wet dream. And none other than Nakahara Chuuya played the starring role. The two of them had been at Dazai’s home, and then Chuuya had gently begun to kiss and caress him. It had been so loving, and Chuuya had looked so good. His blue eyes were simply mesmerizing and god his body... Then he had entered Dazai, and the two of them had made love, full of tenderness for each other. When Dazai woke from the dream, his boxer shorts were completely wet and he was drenched in sweat. But it had been worth it.
So it was no wonder that Dazai blushed when Chuuya sat next to him on the bus that morning.
“What’s up,” Chuuya said.
“Morning,” Dazai replied. He could barely look at him. He kept thinking about his dirty dream, and Chuuya was just so hot! What would it be like to be with a guy like him?
“My class is full of fucking idiots,” Chuuya said then. He was in the class parallel to Dazai’s. It seemed that, besides the two of them, this entire school was nothing but idiots. Maybe that was why they got along so well.
“Same here,” Dazai replied. “They’re all…”
“Crazy?”
“Exactly!” Dazai couldn’t help but smile. “That’s right!”
“The girls aren’t any better too.” Chuuya examined his nails. “They totally swarmed me. Asked a thousand questions.”
Was Chuuya trying to brag? Trying to impress Dazai? No, never. Someone like Dazai could only ever be a passing distraction for someone like him. After all, the brunette was the biggest loser in the whole school and had absolutely nothing to offer.
“You seem to be popular,” Dazai said.
Chuuya shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, they don’t even know me. It just annoys me. I feel like you’re the only normal one here.”
Dazai’s heart sped up. Him and normal? To hear those words in the same sentence was magical. Chuuya was perfect! And he thought Dazai was normal! That was just too good to be true. Stay cool, Dazai told himself.
“Maybe so.” He tried not to let his excitement show. He glanced briefly at Chuuya. He looked so good! His lips were perfectly shaped, his nose straight and the perfect size. His eyebrows were thick, those unique eyes, and then his hair color on top of it all. He looked like he had been painted, and next to him Dazai felt somehow plain. Ugly.
But one thing was certain: Dazai wanted to be friends with Chuuya. Something tingled inside him whenever he looked at him or thought about him. That had to be a sign. Definitely.