badend | ( active ) bungo stray dogs: osamu dazai

[ Dazai sighs, knowing that everything is finished.

Everything is finished, or it should have been with his disappearance, and yet it's not; he's still here, still alive, still acting in that way he always has.

The Port Mafia's Boss taps the bottom of the pen against the bar rhythmically, and he stares at the blank pages of the notebook before him, knowing that everything is unfinished.

He can't think straight today.

His mind keeps wandering back to the fact that Odasaku is somewhere within this city. Alive. Within reach. Avoided. He'll approach him once he can think of what to say, he tells himself, but nothing ever comes.

He rests the pen in favor of pushing the ice sphere in the glass of whiskey before him down once, twice, and a third time, before letting it bob back up. That's equally unsatisfactory, harboring no solution to his current dilemma, he instead turns his head slightly in acknowledgement of the sound of the door opening before swinging shut past someone.

Few people come to this bar, a little hole in the wall place that can illicit a sense of nostalgia. That's why Dazai chose it.

He sighs as the flips the notebook shut. It's not a novel, but a collection of notes on this and that. It may be time to leave, but he decides to look to see who's joining him before finalizing his decision. ]

[Oda shouldn't be here, but what is he to make of the fact that he is?

Was that the extent of his revenge? Had he chased Gide for long enough? What exactly is he to do now?

Since arriving, he's been wandering around feeling untethered to this world and life itself. It's difficult reconnecting with one's humanity without guidance or a sense of direction. So if he finds anything that resembles a small comfort, then he'll look into it further.

Such as this quaint bar with an atmosphere reminiscent of a certain place in a life he'd long left behind. It's odd enough to come across something that seems so familiar as he pushes through the door, but things get even more strange when faced with a certain someone's silhouette.]

Leaving already?

[Not that Oda knows how long the man has been there, and he has yet to confirm the man's identity as he takes a seat and orders a drink. But once he settles, he turns to the man beside him—

Though his suspicions are confirmed, his eyes widen in surprise nonetheless.]

[ Dazai freezes the moment his eyes settle on the man who's joined him. His every muscle seems to lock up, his chest compresses, and he can't breathe. He thinks that even his heart may have stilled. It's for just a few seconds that seem to stretch out into long years, before he exhales softly.

Odasaku looks a little younger, a little closer to the one in his memories. Dazai looks a little older, less youthful, and at once more majestic and more demonic. They might both be more tired.

He shakes his head before easing himself back into a more comfortable position. ]

... No, not yet.

[ Dazai keeps his eyes on him. He doesn't know what kind of face he's supposed to make, nor what expression he's wearing.

"Don't call me Odasaku."

That's what he said.

Then what is Dazai supposed to call him?

But then maybe...

With some trepidation, ]

It's been awhile, Odasaku.

[Initially, bewilderment. The man pauses altogether.

Then, study and discernment. Is this man truly Dazai? Though Oda had died in his arms, he could hardly recall exactly what Dazai looked like in those last moments. Whereas the man before him is tired and worn, yet dark and divine, and perhaps more sinister than when Oda delivered his final words.

Finally, Oda blinks and schools his expression into a more neutral, passive one.]

—Dazai...

[His response is too quick and sounds too breathless even to himself. Shouldn't he at least evaluate the situation even a little longer?

He wrests his gaze away when his drink arrives, his eyes narrow as he peers at the glass in his hands. A beat, and then another.

At the risk of reopening his only friend's old wounds, he asks softly,]

...How long has it been?

[ To hear his name spoken again squeezes his heart painfully. There's the faintest hint of wariness, but it's short lived, and some tension that he didn't realize he'd been holding starts to ease. His expression softens in turn, a melancholy smile gracing his face.

He dares to think that this might be is the Odasaku that exists in his memory. His Odasaku. Not his. The one who had loved him, that he couldn't protect.

How should he answer that question? Four? Six? How long?

He settles on a more neutral answer, ]

It's been four years since the conflict with Mimic... I'm twenty two now.

[ He breathes the words out like a sigh; wistful and weary, but tinged with satisfaction. He places his fingers on the rip of his glass, twirling it in a circle, but he only gives it his attention for seconds before his gaze moves back to the man sitting next to him. ]

I've gotten taller, you know? Though I never did catch up to you.

[The conflict with Mimic... His breath hitches at the mention of them, he squeezes his eyes shut, he's quiet as Dazai continues.

Four years since nearly everything was taken from Oda, since he lost his humanity to grant all they wished for, since he joined Gide in a suicidal last dance..., and since he gave the last remnants of himself to Dazai before dying in this man's arms.

Oda brings the glass to his lips for a sip before he finally opens his eyes. He's been too quiet, lost in his thoughts despite listening, and he could feel Dazai's gaze on him before he takes a deep breath and faces Dazai again. And then he studies the other man as if seeking answers in his expression.]

...Is that so? Can't wait to see how much taller, then. Guess we'll see on the way out?

[His expression has shifted, a hint of amusement in his eye; he'll take his cues from Dazai. Yet he feels a stone-like lump forming in his throat.]

[ There's a moment in which he's certain that he had given the wrong answer, and he searches for some way to recover from it, before Odasaku offers his response and vestiages of caution and uncertainty are erased. Dazai's face brightens, the same boyish smile that he'd always wore during these conversations stretching across his face.

It's an expression that no one in the Port Mafia could imagine him wearing, much less the greater world. It's the look of of a lost child who's finally found his house. ]

Yep! And that's not all!

[ He places one hand on the counter as he leans in just a bit, and there's another pang in his chest. There's so much that he wants to say, so much that he doesn't even know where to begin now. ]

There's so much that I've wanted to tell you.

[How different is Dazai now? How is he still the same?

This look of childlike mirth as he draws closer, it's so familiar, yet so distant in Oda's memories. He's so out of place when it comes to life itself, and it may take some time before he feels like himself.

He takes a drink, downing enough to rid his throat of that uncomfortable lump, and continues regarding Dazai, now with curious interest.

Given the opportunity Oda has now, perhaps he should ask Dazai about...]

I'm here, and I'm ready to listen.

[No, he won't ask about that just yet. He didn't listen to Dazai before going after Gide, and he had Dazai listen to his final words. Isn't it Dazai's turn, for once?]

[ It takes Dazai several more seconds to realize that there's something subtly off about this conversation.

He shifts a bit, and it occurs to him once more that the person seated beside him both is and isn't his Odasaku. He's the one that Dazai remembers best. He's the one that he spent so much time with. But he is too one who he couldn't protect from all the the grief and heartbreak that the world has to offer.

The Odasaku of his world was spared that. Dazai had created a world where he would be happy. He was happy. But only in that world.

With that in mind, he dials his enthusiasm back just a bit, though the euphoria of being able to be near him won't fade anytime soon. ]

I was finally able to disarm a dud bomb? Can you believe it took this long? I've never found one before, [ Because he's protected from any and all dangers, ] So I couldn't believe my luck! I perfected my hard tofu recipe too. I wanted it to be perfect for when you tried it.

[ It's all nonsense. There's nothing of importance at all buried in there, as though no time had passed at all between that fateful day and now. There's so many more important things, so much more that he overlooks in favor of it, because none of it seems to matter. It was all for this moment, and so what else is there? ]

Oh, and you know what? I heard about an acrobat who put Nitre in his bombs to make it more exciting. I was thinking about trying it myself, but not just with nitrate. There should be more than just explosives, right? Something like liquid nitrogen would work well, don't you think?

[Oda patiently listens, and gradually curiosity turns to confusion turns to frustration and concern, the descent pushing Oda's buttons hard enough that—]

Enough, Dazai. Please...

[There's a snap to the tone in his slightly raised voice, warning and exasperation and worry all at once, his mouth is more parched than ever before, and all of that damned anxiety he'd swallowed earlier has rebuilt its home in his throat. The look on his face is that of puzzlement and unease, he cannot remain neutral as Dazai speaks on darker matters as this.

Suddenly it seems so hard to breathe; why? Is that a twisting feeling in his chest? Is there another in the pit of his stomach? When did they start, how did they get there? His heart is beating fast, so fast, alert because he feels alarmed because—

Oda squeezes his eyes shut and then shakes his head until he regains enough composure to regard Dazai again.

Gingerly,]

Are you... alright? What happened after I...

[...left you?

Say it, he should just say it, he wants to say it. Just ask Dazai; why can't he just ask Dazai already?]

...died?

[ Dazai flinches the second that Odasaku raises his voice, almost recoiling, in that same way that a cat might when hearing a sharp noise. He neither question nor argues, instead watching warily, and for the first time there seems to be some amount of calculation as he watches the other.

He's not looking for the optimal solution though. He can't look at this logically. He's just grasping at straws, searching for something - for anything that can satisfy the question that's asked of him.

Was he fine? Of course not. In the original world, he wasn't.

But this Dazai is fine. Everything went exactly according to his plan. It's hard to breathe. The oxygen doesn't seem to reach his lungs, and he realizes after a time that's because he hasn't inhaled for some time. He makes half-hearted effort to exhale some breath hadn't taken in before drawing on in. It's easy and natural, quiet, and he shakes his head.

Something vile sits in the pit of his stomach, but it's obstructed in his throat, and he has to work to regulate his breath. ]

... Does it really matter?

[ He withdraws just a tad, his gaze growing wary, like a burnt black cat that's gained some awareness of how people behave. There's the faintest coolness to his voice, because Dazai doesn't want to talk about that at al, before it warms again - like spring trying to peek out from a frigid winter, ]

It doesn't, right? You're here now, so... I'm fine...

[ He's fine. Even now, Dazai doesn't feel even the slightest hint of resentment toward Odasaku.Even if he were hated, even if he was left behind, he simply couldn't bring himself to see this man as anything other than his friend> His best friend. His only friend. The only one he'll ever have.

To be able to give him the life he deserved, to be able to meet him like this, to have some second chance to give the one he remembers so well the life that he deserves... It's euphoric. It's more than he could ever ask for.

Dazai's gaze softens, and his shoulders slump. He doesn't know what precisely it is that he wants to say either, though, even after all that time. ]

I have yet to die.

[He sets his drink aside to give Dazai his undivided attention. He notes the way Dazai looks at him, not quite like prey but certainly seeking out something, and Oda searches him right back.

It hurts to hear that initial response; it does matter, he wants to insist. But there's that look in Dazai's eye and the frost in his voice—the pain and hurt that he's always had and faced on his own, only so much darker than Oda could remember.

Dazai continues before Oda could say anything, and everything about the man who wraps his sufferings in a tattered cloak of blood and shadows tempers himself... for and because of Oda. To seemingly be the crux of Dazai's existence is more than somewhat overwhelming for such a simple and unambitious man without ulterior motives, and more so when Oda has yet to re-establish his own existence to himself.]

Do you still... want that?

[Indeed, does Dazai still want to die? He'd always seemed far too eager for it, sometimes expressing it in ways that Oda could not simply abide. But after having experienced it himself, after giving the very last remnants of himself to his beloved friend, his only friend in the world... Is death truly what Dazai seeks, even after Oda's last words?

Tentatively, he reaches out to Dazai's face, to caress it and feel that this man is real, and perhaps to assure both of them of... something. Of their existence, maybe, for what little comfort that might offer.]

I'm back.

[What can Oda do with that? What should he do with it?]

...And I've returned to you.

[ What an unfair question.

Dazai never stopped wanting to die, but he chose to live. He chose to live the life that Odasaku could not, because he could do nothing else for him.

That pact was never needed in the fake reality that he hails from, where he could instead see the painting that would be completed by his hand, a colorful painting made with watercolors.

There was no need to keep on living in that world when the other had given him permission to die.

He waited for that moment for so long, and yet... ]

I...

[ For once, he finds himself at a loss for words. The cracks form in his expression, and his lower lip quivers just slightly. Dazai lifts his hands, the tips of his fingers tracing along the hand on his face before finally resting his hand over it. It's warm, and it's real, and it's more than he would ever allow himself to hope for. ]

I wanted to see you again. I wanted to see you again, even if it was only one more time...

[ Just one more time, but that's only a lie that he tells both of them, because it wouldn't be enough; there would never be enough time.

But he did so much, he endured so much, for just one more time. It was worth it.

He breathes out, finishing that thought with what one should at times like this, ]

Welcome back, Odasaku...

[As his fingers gently stroke the other man's face, Oda is finally completely certain this man is truly Dazai. As the facade falls away to reveal Dazai's anguish, Oda frowns ever so slightly, guilty for having peeled the cover back. What more, Oda gave Gide and his men the deaths they had asked for, yet he urged Dazai to stay in a world devoid of meaning.

"Be on the side that saves people." Is this the result of Oda's request?

Dazai is so dark yet grand, so ominous and unworldly, and so much more worn and weathered and exhausted than how Oda had recounted to Gide in their singularity. From what Oda sees, Dazai still remains in that world of violence and bloodshed... but surely he's listened, surely he saves the weak, protects the orphans. Whether good or evil, surely, surely he's on the side that saves people.

Oda's remorseful expression slips into a somewhat softer one. He sees and feels for Dazai's pain and suffering, yet Dazai yearned to see him. And now he's here—whatever remains of his vengeance, there's no revenge to be had, nor is there any other reason for him to be here.

Aside from Dazai.]

Sorry— For having gone away.

[His voice had cracked a little from the cotton-dry feeling in his mouth and the unpleasant lump lodged tight in his throat.

And then, a plea.]

Let me make it up to you. Can I stay with you?

[ It's as though he's finally woken from a dream — a tremendously long, painful dream. It's ethereal, distant, and none of it really seems to matter anymore.

The gaps in time are inconsequential when only Dazai has truly changed when his feelings haven't. He cares as much as he always has; he hates himself for letting him die as much as he always has.

He could never blame Odasaku, because they're friends. He could never blame him, because no one knows how painful living is better than Dazai. ]

Do you even need to ask? Odasaku...

[ There's a soft huff of breath that might pass for a chuckle, because he can't stand to see the the other weighed down by guilt. He doesn't want to wear his own despair. Things can never be the same, but he doesn't want them to be different either.

He lifts his hand up, fingertips brushing against the Odasaku's hand. They linger there for a moment before he lets his hand fall back down. His heart aches, and what can that be called if not proof of his happiness? ]

I want to be with you for as long as I can.

[ Those words are quiet and almost timid, because it's too honest and too big of an ask. But it rolls off his tongue, and there's nothing he can do about it. ]

[Should Oda be surprised that Dazai so easily accepts him? As if he could do no wrong... To be sure, Oda has always done the best he can, but he has his weaknesses. Dazai must know that as well.

His hand gently slips away from Dazai's face, moving downward to catch the hand that just released him, to take that hand into his own and lace their fingers. A soft squeeze, assuring the hint in Oda's expression.]

Then, let's stay together here. As long as we both can.

[Still holding Dazai's hand, Oda turns back to his drink and finally takes another sip. More casually:]

How long have you been here, anyway? What have you been up to?

[What should Oda get up to, anyway?]

[ He doesn't expect his hand to be taken, and his fingers twitch lightly. The Port Mafia was like any other organization; there were unspoken rules that must be followed, and one was a need to keep a certain polite distance.That left little room for affection.

Dazai pushes that aside, looking down and then up again. ]

Not very long. I'm still trying to collect my bearings.

[ He lifts his free hand and gives a light little wave that says the same as usual. His mind never stops really, and so he's already started investigating and plotting things out. ]

What about you? You're no longer beholden to to the Port Mafia, nor can your past haunt you... If you wanted to, you might be able to lead a relatively normal life here.

[ It's too soon to say, but that seems like a real possibility thus far. ]

[Normally, Oda wouldn't openly hold Dazai this way; lowly as his position had been, he had generally maintained his professionalism. They were in the library back when they first met and 'hugged' Ango, Oda playing along and following Dazai's cues, so that counted as professional behavior, right? And maybe this and that are two entirely different things, but this is a new lifetime in a place that seems very different from that one so far.

It was his own choice to initiate their contact and his touch, but he's willing to fall back if Dazai truly deems it inappropriate while they're not behind closed doors.]

Funny you should mention. Maybe I should finally retire…

[A bittersweet thought that pinches his chest, but Oda doesn't linger on it too long. It's too close to the humanity he'd lost and his own death, and he still has to grapple with the latter being more temporary than expected.

Now feeling somewhat impatient to be done and leave with Dazai, he knocks back more of his drink. Then he turns the nearly-finished glass in his hand and watches both ice and liquid swirl with its movement.]

But I just arrived in the past day or so, and I haven't really scoped things out yet. I found this place with a very familiar atmosphere, and I found a familiar face.

[One that might be able to guide him.]

[ Dazai lifts his own glass up in turn, taking a small sip before setting it down and pushing it forward a few inches with the back of his hand. It's only half-finished, but he's long since lost interest in it ]

Some things never change.

[ There's some things that never change. There's a bar like this in every town. It's a place where, even without planning to, they somehow always find themselves at just the right time to bump into each other.

In spite of all logic saying otherwise, in the original world it would always feel as though the seat next to him would soon be filled once more. But the nebulous time period known as "soon" would never come.

It has here though. This place has served its purpose, and so he slides out of his seat. He doesn't relinquish his grip on Odasaku's hand, but instead gives a light tug. ]

Well then, why don't we go see more of it? We have nothing but time now, and there's plenty of other sights to behold. There's a restaurant that I think you'll like, and the library is larger than any I've seen. There's an arcade too... It even has a poison garden. Isn't that lucky?

[ There's a soft chuckle. Retirement doesn't sound so bad. ]

[After Dazai abandons his drink, Oda polishes off his own. He sets his glass down on the counter before rising to his feet. And like so many times before, he follows Dazai's lead.

Dazai's been here long enough to learn about all those things, but that's hardly surprising since Dazai can easily suss out all sorts of information in a fairly short amount of time. More so when it's publicly available.]

Hmm, a poison garden. That's right up your alley, isn't it? Though, the restaurant you mentioned...

[It wouldn't be reminiscent of Freedom, would it?]

It's different from the one that you're used to, but I think you'll like it.

[ There's kindly owner housing orphans here. The layout is different. Though Dazai couldn't taste much beneath the sheer amount of spice the one time he tried it there, he imagines that the flavor would be different too. But it adds a bit of normalcy, and it's something to fill the gaps in conversation as they walk along on the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind. It's quiet when compared to Yokohama, but far righter and full of life than the Port Mafia's headquarters.

He slips one hand into his jacket pocket. There's things that he should say now, ones that likely matter more, but that seems difficult. ]

Oh, and there's one more thing. I haven't been here much longer than you, but I've found a place to stay, so... [ His eyes briefly wander before settling back on Odasaku, ] Do want to stay with me for now?

[ "For now" being however long he wishes to. ]

[It's quiet and perhaps even peaceful as they stroll along. The coolness, the way the wind picks up, the scent of the sea are all very reminiscent of their beautiful port city. How is it this place is different yet strangely similar and seemingly familiar?

That quaint bar they just exited, Oda didn’t quite catch the name—is it a wonder that it much resembled Bar Lupin without being that very bar itself? And how about the restaurant Dazai’s just mentioned, will it also be almost coincidentally familiar to Oda as well? Even Dazai himself is somewhat different, yet oddly the same.

Is it a property of this place, or is it something else?

Anyway, he nods at the comment about the restaurant. He’ll just have to see it for himself.

They fall silent, and Oda continues comparing his surroundings here with those back in Yokohama. His gaze returns to Dazai when he starts to speak. Oda gives a subtle smile.]

I'll take you up on that. Since you're offering. [A pause.] You sure there's enough room?

[He doesn't want to impose.]

Don't worry. There's plenty of room for two people.

[ It feels safer that way. He doesn't want to let Odasaku out of his sight. The other will disappear the moment he does, like a mirage in the desert. He wants to keep him close, so that he can't leave for some place that Dazai can't reach.

It seems a little less lonely that way, and his chest feels lighter when the offer it's accepted. It's one more weight lifted.

His jacket, unbuttoned, flutters behind him as he walks. It's worn properly these days, no longer hanging loosely around his shoulders, and it fits him better now than it did several years ago. ]

Actually, it's too big for just me.. I don't know why I thought I'd need so much space. [ He chuckles, ] And it's been so long since we last met... We can make up for lost time.

[Earlier, Oda had been distracted by Dazai's talk of sights to see in the area, so he hadn't really checked just how much taller the younger man had grown. Nor had Dazai's promotion to Boss and Leader of the Port Mafia escaped him, but it's plain to see how he fills the coat in much better than he had four years ago.]

Maybe you're just used to getting things to fill out later. [That coat, the Boss's position... Now, a place to stay.

That sounds so temporary.]

But you're right—finally getting together is a chance to get all caught up. [Not that there's much for Oda to update Dazai on.] Though, you'll probably be doing most of the talking.

[ That's not inaccurate. The entire world had been a blank slate for him. He'd tossed the original manuscript for his world many years ago before completely rewriting it. The cast stayed the same, but their stories were permanently changed.

But this Odasaku's story had already concluded in the original world. ]

I don't mind... Though the last four years haven't been very interesting as the ones before them. Mori-san made being the Boss sound more difficult than it actually is... It's hopelessly boring.

[ He tries to smile, but he can't quite manage it, and a wishful sight follows.

Quickly, as though to distract from whatever questions that might bring, but not without some trepidation, Dazai adds, ]

Oh, that's right... He's no longer with the Port Mafia. He's director of an orphanage now.

[ The former might not be surprising, but the fact that he's still alive certainly should be. ]

[Though Oda looks impassive, Dazai's words coupled with melancholy longing stir his curiosity. So when Dazai expands on the subject of Mori, Oda's genuine surprise breaks through his expression.]

—!

[The former Boss is still alive, though he's the director of an orphanage.

Then Oda's surprise shifts into perplexity.

Four years since the conflict with Mimic—Oda had personally resolved that conflict on his own, it's the reason he'd died. The last four years, the ones that followed without him, weren't as interesting as the ones before them; as in, the very same years that Oda...

What does it mean? He studies Dazai, searching for—]

... How—? [What does he want to ask here? Where does he want to begin?] —When did...?

Well... One thing at a time...

[ Dazai falls silent for awhile. He stares ahead without really seeing what's before him. He opens his mouth, then closes it, for once seeming entirely uncertain of what to say. What to say, how much to say... But eventually he seems to come to a conclusion, and he shakes his head, ]

Mori-san was never cut out to be the Port Mafia's Boss. I told him when he first assumed the position... I thought this role would suit him better.

[ As always, Dazai knows what's best for the people around him as much as he does who's best suited to the roles he needs filled.

It's something that others would find difficult to understand, but Dazai does. He would be happier as a doting father than a leader. But everyone has their role to play, and in the original world that was his; in this world, it belongs to Dazai. ]

As to how it occurred, it's a bit of a long story, but the previous director was killed by a boy who had been raised there. That boy was under my direct command at the time, and I was obliged to take responsibility for him and find a replacement. Mori-san fit the bill, so I decided to spare him in exchange for assuming the role of the new director. I would have the world at large believe I had assassinated him, and he would be able to live freely.

[ He stops there there. It doesn't answer the question of when, much less any others that it might have brought on, but that alone is quite a bit to take in. ]

[What should he make of that expression where Dazai seems so faraway, so not present?

Still, patiently he listens; the tale as Dazai depicts it is understandable enough, but it doesn't align with Oda's experiences at all. It's much like this peculiar place they're in, reminiscence in divergence. Yet for how outrageous the story seems, Oda still trusts and believes his friend.

He stops in his tracks to better process what he's just taken in, he takes a deep breath, holds, and then lets out a sigh.]

...I don't. recall. any of that happening.

[There's a confused disappointment in his tone, as if there's an obvious answer that he'd failed to pick up on. And his heart beats just a little faster. He manages to keep his breathing even.]

When did any of this happen? [If it was when he was still around, then how could he not have noticed?]

That's right. You wouldn't...

[ Those words come out slowly and quietly, though Dazai already knew that. His eyes roll up as he says them before dropping down again, and finally Dazai nods with a wry, apologetic smile.

It only lasts so long before he straightens his posture, then stiffens. One hand sliding out of his pockets to place it over his heart. ]

Let me start over. I am Osamu Dazai, the current Boss of the Port Mafia. I succeeded Mori-san at eighteen, shortly before the conflict with Mimic... You don't anything like that happening though, right? You remember the Boss sending you on a mission to find Ango. You saved Akutagawa-kun, but in doing so caught the attention in Mimic's leader. And at the end - [ A beat. ] - You died. I remember all of that too, as clear as day, but...

[ His fingernails scrape against the fabric of his jacket as his fingers start to curl, but he forces them to remain splayed out. He removes his hand, gesturing with his palm up. ]

This is my first meeting you.

[That low and deliberate response sends a chill through Oda. As Dazai continues, his words and actions become increasingly dark and ominous. Oda's heart picks up pace, and he is overwhelmed by the time Dazai finishes. There are traces of shock and awe in his expression as he takes a reflexive step back.

Though summarized, Oda is all too familiar with this version of the conflict with Mimic. He matches memories with Dazai's words, squeezing his eyes shut as he fills in details Dazai glosses over as 'the end'—Kousuke, Katsumi, Yuu, Shinji, Sakura. Realizing he was screaming only when he connected it to the pain in his throat and his inability to breathe.

Usually he'd be more detached from his memories, but the agony and despair of the experience are so viscerally destabilizing that it's like he's reliving it. His heart is racing as much as it's aching; his breathing staggers as it comes and goes, and he feels like there's a brick in his throat.

Still, he follows the tape through, rapidly jumping to taking down all of Mimic, his last battle with Gide, and his last words to his dear friend.

Dazai. Dazai was with him in the end. Dazai recalls this version of events, yet it's the first Dazai is meeting him.

It's hard to tell, but it takes a beat or perhaps several for Oda to compose himself, to clear his throat, to open his eyes. And when his gaze falls on the Boss of the Port Mafia, there still is faith and trust.]

So... you're Dazai. But you didn't... live that with me, even though you know about it.

[But how?]

[ The reaction isn't unexpected, but the tight feeling in his chest isn't. It might be less painful to have someone crack his ribs open and tear his heart out than to see that look on Odasaku's face.

His fingers twitch, hand lifting a few inches before falling back down and hitting against his side. He stays where he is, allowing the other to make distance, and it takes everything to maintain his composure. He smooths his expression out, exhaling softly.

This isn't a conversation that he wants to have. He doesn't want to remind Odasaku of his final hours. He doesn't want to remember them either, though he always does; it's there in his daydreams, in his nightmares, always lurking in the back of his mind.

Butt he just can't bring himself to deceive him.

Odasaku invites him to continue, and so he does. ]

Yes... That's right. The world that you live in is what could be called the original world, or perhaps reality, but outside of that is an infinite number of possible worlds... I lived in one of those worlds.

[ He places his hand over his heart as he makes that final statement. ]

As you know, my ability can nullify all abilities. I used that trait to create a point of singularity and forcibly connect the world's fragments. After that, I succeeded in reading the memories of the me that exists in the original world... Everything from the events that would eventually lead to our meeting to the years that followed after our parting.

[ It was a lot for a fifteen year old, but he's never once regretted it. It was like he was given a second chance. ]

[The shift away from his memories and the events that ultimately led to his death is welcome—if unconventional. Aside from where they are at present, Oda hadn’t really heard of worlds other than his own. Then there’s the fact he’s revived in a world other than his own for reasons unbeknownst to him. That Dazai says there’s an infinite number of possible worlds outside the one he’d come from... There are so many questions to ask.]

So you read his memories. And then changed our fates in another world?

[Not this world. Dazai had also said he hasn’t been here long.

Is he saying there’s a world where Oda hasn’t died? That’s... What should he think about that, how should he feel?]

[ It's a complex subject. However succinct his explanation, the idea of other worlds is complex and difficult for most to understand. He had come to that conclusion, but even so been unprepared for the storm of emotions and memories that followed.

There's so many questions, and Dazai has nothing but time. He nods in affirmation. ]

Right. I am the Port Mafia's legendary Boss, the personification of the night itself. Mimic fell by my hand, as did many others.

[ Despite himself, there's a tinge of satisfaction at that thought. It was only when their leader was gone that he was able to breathe. ]

We never met, and so you never joined the Port Mafia. The Odasaku that I know is a member of the Armed Detective Agency... It's the life that you should have had in the original world.

[ It's one where he's genuinely happy. How could he not be?

It's fine if he hates Dazai. It's better that way. ]

Though even if I say that, it doesn't change what happened in the original world.

[The Armed Detective Agency. The life he should have had in the original world.]

...It doesn't sound like it would.

[Oda ever so slightly frowns as he looks away from the other man. Even from Dazai, these are quite bold assertions that don't really sit well with him. He can't help the unsettling feeling that comes from the confident authoritativeness with which Dazai would dictate his life. Perhaps it's because his experiences of both life and death tell him otherwise—they happened because they were supposed to.

He sighs. His gaze returns to Dazai.]

The Oda Sakunosuke that you know, has he come to know you as well?

[ Dazai offers a wry smile. He's saying too much.

It's not something he would expect his friend to understand. However many years pass, in any world people remain pieces on the chessboard. He moves them as needed. He finds the best possible outcome.

He'd wanted Odasaku to be able to live relatively freely, though, even as he decided both path and purpose for those around him. ]

... We met once, but it was on business. I'm sure that he knew of my reputation, though, and the rumors that surround me. It would be impossible not to.

[ He doesn't sound too torn up about that, and by itself it doesn't bother him all that much. People love a good mystery, and they often found him enigmatic and frightening even when he was an executive. ]

[There's that look, that smile.

That answers his question, albeit not quite in the way Oda wants it answered. But he's a tactician, not a strategist. Dazai may have said Oda's no longer beholden to the Port Mafia, but old habits die hard. He's the Leader of the Port Mafia, and if he's decided that's sufficient enough an answer...]

—Of course.

[Can Oda let that go? What can be done about it if he can't? Dazai's mind on the matter is already made up, much like Oda's regarding his own death in reality.

He closes his eyes, turns his face toward the sky, and takes some time to just breathe. After a while, he wears a neutral expression when regarding Dazai once again.]

Is this one of the infinite number of possible worlds you knew about?

[Just this one last question on the matter. He needs to ask, regardless of the answer.]

No. This is something that even I wouldn't have predicted. Death is supposed to be the end of things.

[ It is a bit more complicated than that, but it would be missing the forest to see the trees. He had accepted the finality of death not just for others, but for himself, and sought comfort in the fact that he would find nothing after.

If Odasaku is here, then that means that there is.

How should he feel about that, after spending so much time wishing to see him again?

Dazai takes a step forward, closing the gap between them. He wants to say something, but he isn't sure what. He reaches a hand out at length, trying to brush his fingers along the back of his other's hand, as though that slight gesture alone could convey all those conflicting feelings that have remained locked up tight for so long. And in return he asks, ]

Odasaku... Are you disappointed?

[ About the fact that he's alive, or about this peculiar situation that he's found himself in? Or something else entirely? Dazai doesn't clarify, but he's searching his face for an answer. ]

[...When Dazai mentions death, is he only talking about Oda's? or is he also talking about his own?

Oda allows Dazai the gesture, the feel and weight of his touch is so real and grounding at the moment. After hearing his question, Oda responds by trying to take Dazai's hand in his own.

He takes a deep breath, then,]

No. I'm not disappointed. [As Dazai searches him, Oda does the same right back.] Though I don't know exactly what my feelings about many things are right now.

[His gaze drops.]

But I asked to stay with you, and we've agreed to stay together. That's not something I'd walk back.

[Even if he isn't the same Dazai from his reality.]

[ Odasaku takes his hand before Dazai can pull it back. It's unexpected, but welcomed, and his features soften as their fingers intertwine. It's more than he'd dare dream of. His thumb rubs the back of the others hand before he squeezes.

There's so much. Dazai can understand that. He knows, too, that there's no doubt countless questions that the other hasn't asked; that he can't ask ask. if he dislikes it, it's still familiar. It's the Odasaku he remembers. It's the person he's thought of for so many years, who died in his arms, who he wanted to speak to again.

The smile that Dazai offers in return is soft. It's subdued still, but there's a genuine happiness to it.

When is the last time he looked forward to something...? It was somewhere when they met, but now... ]

You can stay as long as you wish... And I will stay by your side so long as you will have me.

[ His fingers twitch slightly, then squeeze again. Dazai is a person who struggles to express his true feelings at the best of times, and it's more difficult still for trying to sort his memories, but... ]

I'm happy that you are here... I'm happy that I can be here with you.

[His gaze goes to their joined hands the first time that Dazai squeezes. Oda seems relieved and even some degree of content. When he regards Dazai again, he wears a small smile that matches Dazai's. He feels Dazai give another seemingly tentative squeeze, and he gives a more assuring and tender one in return.]

I don't know what I would've done if you weren't here. I'm grateful that you are.

[It's quite possible Oda would feel even more lost without Dazai anchoring him here in some way. It's complicated and confusing, and there are so many things that are so difficult to communicate...]

I can't speak for any of the ones from other worlds. But no matter where you're from, if you find me—

[As in, the one from the original world.]

—then I won't turn you away.

[He doesn't know how other worlds work or anything like that, but he's certain that he specifically wants Dazai by his side.]

So, do you want to go sight-seeing? Or do you want to show me where we'll be staying?

Edited 2025-03-07 21:15 (UTC)

Odasaku...

[ To be rejected by him had been like a shot through the heart. It was crushing, like losing his best friend for a second time, but even that pain seems small when compared to what those words illicit. The dam inside of him breaks, all the years of struggling and yearning seeming to hit all at once.There's cracks in his expression, and for a moment Dazai looks as though he might cry.

He can't remember the last he felt so happy. He can't remember ever feeling happy at all. It makes him want to die.

He really wanted to live with him.

But it's only for a moment before those feelings come and go, and all that tension is swept away for the final time, and when his smile returns it's softer, more honest. because the world's finally settled back into place. ]

I can show you where we'll be staying... [ He thinks for a moment before adding, ] Oh, we could try decorating it together.

[ Neither of them are really suited to home decorating, but you know. It sounds like a nice idea. ]

[Oda sees Dazai briefly appear more broken and vulnerable in ways that he'd never show anyone. But the younger man seems to recover before Oda can decide whether and how to bring it to attention. He lets out a tiny sigh of relief before his expression eases into a smile reserved only for the most private moments with his friend.]

You know anything about interior design? Or is it home decoration? ...Is there a difference?

[Anyway, Dazai is the Leader of the Port Mafia. The Boss probably chooses how to furnish his own digs, so surely he knows a thing or several about it. Or, at least, more than Oda knows.]

Lead the way. You said you have a big place--was it already furnished?

[Even though there's a part of him that can't just let go of his death and how he doesn't belong here, he is actually looking forward to spending time doing even the simplest of things with Dazai.]

[ Dazai nods once. ]

It was. If I didn't know any better, I would say that it was a model home.

[ A model home, but without the illusion of personalization. There's no knick-knacks, no fake pictures, none of those normal things stacked up on racks and placed on cabinets and other such things to make it seem more homely. It was a good match for him.

He wonders briefly if perhaps Odasaku regrets being alive. If he wants to be. Dazai won't allow him to return to the grave.

He loops back around to the first question as he pulls the other along, turning a corner, a hint of amusement appearing at last, ]

Though neither of us are home designers, so I'm sure all the appeal it's supposed to have will be ruined... Well, that suits me just fine though. You can't really call a place "homely" until you've ruined the look, right?

[ Clashing accents, things that don't belong together, things that are kept for sentimental value and art that are there just because, things clumsily thrown about or forgotten or lost... He thinks that's what they mean when they call a place "homely." ]

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@notawriter

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