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Chapter Text

"I hold my breath as I walk into the ocean

I face my beautiful yet sorrowful tears

It’s just another day in the darkness"

                                                   - Abyss; Jin 

*****

Oda Sakunosuke was a simple man.

At least, that was how he was perceived by those around him. Amusingly, it was Dazai himself who was subject to this mentality.

He was Gifted, refused to kill and singlehandedly supported half a dozen orphan children. That was all Dazai had known about his- dare he say it- friend. He knew Odasaku had a dark past hidden somewhere away, with his refusal to kill and the fact he joined the Port Mafia in the first place.

But Dazai hadn't pried, not the way he did with his subordinates and peers alike- pulling up their files and finding everything there was about them to the point where it was obsessive. It didn't seem obsessive to Dazai himself, for what was he to do? Wait blindly for someone to betray him?

If they were going to play a game of cat and mouse, then Dazai preferred to be the mouse that tormented the cat with a reward it could never achieve.

But for Odasaku, there had always been something that held him back. He'd had the man's file on his desk for a long time, but had never opened it. Not once.

Perhaps it was respect for his friend's privacy, or the fact Dazai didn't wish to lose the comfortable relationship he'd built up with the stoic man, but Dazai hadn't gone any further, and somewhere along the way, he'd known Odasaku appreciated the gesture.

Though if Mori found out, he'd say Dazai was getting soft.

It was quite the opposite really, for every day Dazai felt like he was sinking further and further inside a pool he didn't quite know how to escape from. At first, it had been terrifying, and even his disillusioned self had been shaken. But now, years and years of that slow drowning, Dazai felt as if it were second nature.

He felt as if it were an irrevocable part of his personality.

And that was the suffocating part. Looking at the world around him with those hazy, unclear eyes Dazai found nothing of interest- nothing to help clear the maddening monotony of his life. All he saw was death, and yet no angel of death came to greet him no matter how hard he tried.

It would be baffling, to say that his days were cloaked in monotony, but for Dazai who'd joined the Port Mafia, who'd embraced the darkness of the underworld merely to find something to ignite his will to live, it was something entirely reasonable.

And yet that was but a lie, was it not?

There was no one in this world that Dazai lied to more than himself, just like the way he loathed no one more than himself. A cursed existence was he, and all he wished was for freedom, for respite.

Which was why, selfishly, he yearned for ascendance.

But it seemed like death itself was against him, and ironically, they were in that same chase of cat and mouse- except now, it was death playing and tormenting him with the fact that it was something Dazai could never achieve, could never capture.

He'd had better days, days on which he'd tease and laugh with Chuuya, days on which he'd relish Odasaku's company as they drank together, and days when he was the mentor he should've been to Akutagawa.

On those days, with the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he dodged bullets and shot them alike, Dazai had felt alive. The most he could after all those years of grey. And in those moments, he'd believed he could learn to live like this, he could learn to be content with what he had.

Alas, as always, he lied.

And so here he is now, looking down into an abyss of deep blue, legs swinging carelessly from his perch on the railing of the bridge he'd chosen. It is perfect- the gloomy rainy weather, the darkness of the night, and the absence of anyone to witness his end.

He calculates that it would take days before anyone would realize he was missing, a week before his body would be found, and more for his funeral since Mori was likely to stew in rage once the realization hit. He wonders if Chuuya would care; if his colleagues and his subordinates would attend his funeral out of something other than duty.

The young boy smiles, for he knows a certain redhead would. Oda would be mournful, though he'd loathe to actually show it. Dazai wonders if perhaps he'd cry- they were close enough for that right?

Right?

Oh well, too bad Dazai would be unable to witness it.

Perhaps he should fake his death first to see everyone's reactions. Though he had a feeling Chuuya would kill him for real when he found out. Dazai likes death, but he isn't a fan of pain.

Which was why this place is perfect.

A single push and it would all end. The last thing Dazai would feel would be the rush of wind followed by the crack of his body touching the dark water. And it would be done. Dazai would be free of this burden, of this sickening silence.

So why wasn't he jumping?

The boy forces out a chagrined grin. Has he grown sentimental, surrounded by a pair of fools who valued life in its most primitive of forms? Ango, who honored the dead by their life stories. Oda, who lived each day to cultivate life in a profession where he was required to take them.

Perhaps he has. Or maybe, perhaps, he wishes for those who value this life, this existence to value his as well. To reach out to him as well, in the way that they embraced others. To embrace him, who yearned for death and yet did not at all.

Someone. Anyone.

Because, despite all his empty bravado, Osamu Dazai is still a child.

Osamu Dazai wants to be saved.

Even if no one ever will.

So, the boy waits. He waits and waits, for hours on end, in the freezing cold- waiting for someone, anyone to realize he's missing and care for enough to search for him. He knows no one will.

A bitter smile graces his face and he looks up into the night sky. If he is to leave today, now, then the last thing he'd like to savor is the light of the stars. How ironic it is that these stars have more life and mortality in them than he does.

Osamu Dazai is an anomaly, something that should have never graced this Earth and he knows it. He knows it better than anyone.

He does not deserve happiness, the monster that he is, and yet here he is, ready to fling himself off a ledge and snatch his desire for himself no matter how death might refuse him. Not today.

Today, Dazai Osamu would atone.

God knows you need to.

Dazai knows it too, but he feels not a shred of guilt for his deeds. He knows objectively that killing, plundering, and torturing are evil, and yet he still does it, unburdened with guilt and misery. Osamu has long lost the ability to feel and no amount of Oda, Chuuya, or Ango can fix that.

He does not feel.

He does not.

So, what is this odd pressure in his chest? What is this pain, this restlessness? This sentimentality?

Osamu smiles. Nothing he wishes to find out, nothing he will ever find out.

And so the boy pushes, one thrust of his arm and he readies himself for the rush of wind, the final fall. This is the end, and now the world will be rid of the stain that is Osamu Dazai.

Osamu wants to cry. He does not know why.

Only to stop as a small hand wraps around his arm, pulling him back with all the strength of a woman scorned. Dazai's eyes snap back open as he lands on the concrete with a dull thud, the pain of the impact forgotten as he is faced with eyes the same color of the night sky above them and the dark water below.

He places those eyes on a fair face, something that looks like freckles dusting across a small nose and long maroon hair pulled back into a messy bun. A woman.

Belatedly, Dazai realizes what just happened.

He tries to muster up something- anger, irritation, grief, anything but fails. All he can do is look over the woman's shoulder blankly, as if he can't believe what has just happened.

And dully, he realizes he can't.

He shivers, from the realization or the cold he does not know.

Someone pulled him back, someone stopped him, someone saved him. Him, who only knows how to kill and her- he brings his eyes to her, who is but a stranger.

Why? He wants to ask her, desperately and wretchedly. Why?

But midnight-colored eyes reach his, the storm of a hundred tsunamis and then some swirling within in them, and with a jolt, Dazai realizes they are relieved. She looks relieved.

Her cheeks her flushed and she is panting as if she ran across the bridge just to catch him in time. Her pupils are blown and her hair is messy and Dazai can see the reddening scrapes on her hands from the force of their fall and yet she still looks painfully relieved.

This time Dazai cannot help himself.

"Why?" It spills from his lips as easily as lies do, and yet somehow it's the hardest thing he's ever said. He wishes to know- wildly, why she'd do something like this, why she'd feel so relieved over someone like him, why she reached out at all.

A dozen questions remain unsaid on his lips, resentful and desperate, and yet, somehow, the girl's eyes twinkle with something akin to understanding and she smiles. It is a small thing, barely holding up as she is still quite winded, but at that moment, to Dazai it is the most beautiful thing in the world.

If he was caught off guard by that gentle smile, then what she says next completely throws him off.

The midnight-eyed girl smiles. "You looked like you wanted help."

*****

She takes him by hand and leads him off into the darkness. Dazai knows not where, nor does he care, for he is too lost in thought to register how the streets gradually become brighter, even though the crowd remains just as scarce as before. He wants to ask her why she thought he wished for help, why she believes he needed to be saved in the first place for Dazai had always been in control- he'd known exactly what he wanted and, at that moment, he had wanted to step off that ledge.

So why had he felt that small tinge of relief when the two of them fell back into the concrete?

You're a liar, Osamu Dazai. A filthy liar.

If it were not for the warmth of the girl's hand, Dazai would've believed this was some warped version of the afterlife. Though, he supposes, there was no evidence that the afterlife could not have warmth. If say, this was the afterlife- Dazai watches their linked hands with dull eyes- it would be something he would be more than satisfied with.

They don't talk, or at least Dazai does not and they walk in silence, before the girl stops in front of a small door, shooting him an apologetic smile as she releases his hand and fiddles around in her pockets for a key. Dazai feels his released hand twitch oddly.

He feels strange.

A telltale click alerts him to the door, and he watches as the girl pushes in. It looks like a restaurant, though much too small in hindsight. Perhaps a humble café.

He follows her in, against his instincts, against anything Mori had taught him. Because frankly, at that moment he cares not one bit.

The girl welcomes him with a pair of fresh clothes that are too big on Dazai, telling him to change his wet clothes. Dully Dazai realizes he is soaked. When it rained, he does not remember.

"Here, Dazai-kun." She leads him down a hallway and gestures towards a door. "You may change here. Take your time."

He does not question how she knows his name, even though it means going against every survival instinct drilled into him by Mori and all the experience he's racked up in his years in the Port Mafia. It means throwing away all his training.

But he still steps inside the bathroom she shows him and strips down, handing her his wet clothes dutifully before pulling on the clothes. When he trudges back out, his eyes immediately zero in on his wet clothes that have been set out to dry by a fireplace that certainly wasn't alight when he entered.

An Ability user perhaps.

It's quite funny actually, since for the first time in years, Dazai's gaze has finally cleared of the haze that tainted them. Somehow, everything is oddly clearer and though Dazai's mind is still muddled from shock, it is a far cry from how chaotic it had been before.

Something settles in his chest, something incredibly foreign and strange. Something that grows as the girl emerges from another room with two steaming cups of tea on a tray. Chamomile, he realizes.

As she places down the tray, Dazai realizes she too has changed, revealing modest clothing- a button-up shirt with a grey V-neck sweater layered over it. It is plain clothing- almost boring in the eyes of Dazai who has long gotten used to Chuuya's expensive and eccentric taste in clothing. But somehow, oddly enough, it suits her and Dazai finds himself tongue-tied.

She gives him a small smile. "Please sit down."

Dazai obeys, and she hands him his tea before disappearing and reappearing with a white towel she dumps over his wet hair, before patting it dry gently. Dazai tries to muster up any retort, any quip for this is something utterly foreign to him- this degree of care, of intimacy, and what sets him on edge, even more, is the fact that he is so comfortable with someone he has just met.

It is jarring.

Finally, he forces the words out and immediately regrets them, for some small twisted part of him wishes for this to never end. "Who are you?"

The towel on his head stills for a moment before starting moving again. If possible, it is even more gentle now.

"Mizuha Hagane." She says. "My cousin is your acquaintance, I believe."

"Cousin?" Dazai blurts out before he can help himself. If there was remotely similar to this woman in Dazai's circle, he'd have known. Perhaps one of his subordinates instead?

"Oda Sakunosuke." She says easily, pulling the towel away from his head and walking around to settle in the chair opposite to him. In the light of the flames, she looks ethereal and for some reason, Dazai realizes he misses her touch.

Then the words wash over him and he sits up in disbelief. "Odasaku?"

One look at the sheer disbelief on his face has her chuckling and Dazai feels himself flush unwillingly. But it is baffling, for while Dazai has not looked up his friend's background, he'd at least thought he'd know if Oda had any relatives.

You idiot, how could you know if you haven't looked at his file?

He never looked like he had any, never talked about any, and from what Dazai has seen, he looks at the orphan children he was raising like they are the light of his life. Never was there any mention of a living relative, especially a cousin.

He can't help it, it sounds suspicious. And judging by how the girl's smile turns sheepish, she knows it as well. She pulls out her phone instantly.

"One moment," She dials in a number, waiting for a full five seconds before brightening as a voice bid her hello. "Ni-san, I've got your friend here."

"Friend?" Oda's voice is unmistakable through the phone.

"Yes, I believe it's a man named Osamu Dazai ?" She glances at him in confirmation, continuing when he nods in affirmation. "The one you always talk about."

Odasaku is silent for a full minute before he lets out a long sigh- the sound reaching the pair sitting in the room and the two exchange sheepish grins. "Hand over the phone to Dazai, Mizuha."

"Hai, Ni-san."

Mizuha passes Dazai the phone easily, getting up to place their mugs away. Dazai has a feeling it is more to grant them some privacy than actually putting them away. He still appreciates the thought.

"Odasaku?"

"Please tell me you did not."

"I didn't?"

"Good." The stoic man's reply is short and Dazai forces down his growing grin. Odasaku has never failed to amuse him. "I'm assuming you'll be staying over the night?"

"I can head back to HQ," Dazai offers, even as he feels his chest tighten at the notion. Somehow, staying in this quaint, quiet place appealed to him.

"Don't bother. If my hunch is correct and you tried to do what I think you did, you'll need company tonight."

"So, you're leaving me with your young, defenseless, and very much female cousin?" Dazai's eyes shoot up, and though his voice is filled with fake teasing, his skepticism rang true. "You know who I am, right?"

"Mizuha is hardly defenseless Dazai, and I know you won't do something like that," Oda says patiently, continuing when he realizes Dazai wouldn't speak. "Besides, I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone tonight. Mizuha is a good girl, she'll take care of you."

Dazai feels exasperation pool within him at the man's words. He pushes away from the budding question about Mizuha's nonexistent defenseless, choosing to focus on the heavier question.

"How do you know that?" Dazai asks, his voice growing colder. He'd never do something like that- the same reason he's never dug into Oda's past. And for some reason, hurting the kind girl that helped him fills him with disgust. But he wants to push Oda, to try and make him understand just what position he's in. "How do you know I won't take advantage of this opportunity?"

Oda was silent for a second. Dazai feels his heart drop, fearing he'd made an irreversible mistake.

"Because I know you. Because you're my friend."

The rising beast clawing within him immediately stills, growing smaller and smaller each moment of silence. Dazai feels a heaviness inside his chest he's never realized he's had lighten, and he pushes down his smile.

Somehow, this day is growing more and more interesting by the minute.

"Sap." He bites out.

Oda doesn't react to the taunt nor did does he try to deny it, which is entirely in character for the stoic but honest man. Truly, Dazai has no idea how they'd ended up as friends in the first place.

"Just go to bed, Dazai." He sighs. "And please, take care of yourself."

Dazai stills.

"I don't want to see you in a coffin anytime soon."

"Is this an invitation for volcano suicide? Seems fun." Dazai forces out.

"What? No- you know what I mean, Dazai."

Dazai didn't reply this time. Oda sighs.

"Goodnight, Dazai. Let's meet up once I return."

There as Oda turns to end the call, the only thing Dazai can force out is a small, almost vulnerable voice that is a weakness he knows people like Mori and Chuuya would take advantage of. But not Oda, never Oda and when Dazai whispers his farewell, Dazai can nearly see the hint of a smile on Oda's mouth.

"Goodnight…Odasaku."

He sits there in silence for the next few minutes, eyes unfocused as they stare into the fire blankly. His mind is incredibly chaotic and yet not, suddenly calming as all but one sentence rings over and over again in his head.

Because I know you. Because you're my friend.

That's the first time either of them has said it. Has admitted it. They are friends.

Osamu Dazai has a friend.

And though the heavy weight of his attempted suicide looms over his head, Dazai can't find it in himself to face it, as his chest fills with something akin to euphoria. He is happy even if he does not deserve it.

And he is glad that that small hand pulled him away from that ledge at that moment, he is glad he was not allowed to continue with his notion of life not being worth living anymore. For if he had the chance to experience something as small but heartwarming as this- maybe then, perhaps then, he could learn to live.

"Are you done?"

Mizuha- Oda's cousin, he realizes pokes her head in the room hesitantly. For the first time since they met, she looks slightly unsure and Dazai realizes with growing amusement, it is because she does not wish to intrude upon their private conversation.

Dazai offers her a small smile, tired and exhausted, but much more genuine than anything he has ever worn in a long, long time. His heart is light and he relishes it, even though he knows it will not last long.

"I hope you don't mind me staying for the night."

"Nonsense." Mizuha waves him off and Dazai watches how her hair- he realizes with a jolt she'd let it down- curls around her shoulders. It's shorter than he'd imagined, barely spilling over her shoulders. "As if I'd let you go home alone so late."

…Ah.

Dazai can finally see the family resemblance. The blatant disregard for stranger danger and babying of fully grown men capable of making their own decisions and protecting themselves. Dazai isn't quite sure how to break it to her that as a Mafia Executive, he was more likely to die by choking on a grape than by some ruffians on the street.

In fact, suicide was more likely-

Oh.

Oh.

Dazai turns back to her wildly, realization pooling within him. So that was why. Why they wouldn't let him be alone. It made perfect sense, it had been barely an hour since he'd tried jumping off a building and no matter how calm Dazai feels, it is a whole other story for those around and especially those- he watches the girl with apologetic eyes- who'd witnessed and reacted firsthand.

Mizuha's eyes soften knowingly and she gives him a small smile. "Come, I'll show you to your room."

Dazai doesn't need to be told twice, following after petite girl quietly. He takes the time to scan her, wondering how in the world Oda believed she was capable of defending herself. Not that he had anything against her, but Dazai had felt no calluses on her hand when she'd held his, which meant she had no martial arts training. She has a petite frame that could rival any other girl Dazai had seen, which means she has a great disadvantage when it comes to bigger and heavier opponents.

Perhaps she had an ability?

He didn't think so, since all the Gifted knew were at least a little loose in the head, something he himself admitted to. His sudden switch from depressed and suicidal to happy-go-lucky was proof of that. And Mizuha seemed nothing like that, in fact the only thing that was out of place in her character was how kind and gentle she was.

It was strange.

"…Zai-kun…Dazai-kun!"

Dazai is pulled out of his thoughts with a jolt as Mizuha snaps her fingers in front of him. She looks worried, though she seems to be trying to hide it. "Yes?"

Mizuha searches his face. "Are you all right?"

"Why do you ask?" Dazai forces a grin up his face, clearly out of his element. Despite his bravado, he's never had interacted with a woman so closely. Ane-san does not count, for she's always made sure to keep a distance of five feet away from him at all times, which had made him pout on more than one occasion. Besides, he doesn't have to push down the weight in his chest each time she looks at him.

Mizuha doesn't reply, just giving him a meaningful glance. Dazai melts.

"Why did you save me at all?" He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, which is annoyingly the one thing he should not have asked and is but an infuriating repeat of his previous question at the bridge. The opportunity to learn more about her is now gone.

His heart falls as Mizuha's small smile fades away, replaced with a perplexed frown. As if she does not understand him. This is ironic, for Dazai is the one here who's stumped.

He regrets the question, even though he desperately yearns for an answer- the true reason as to why Mizuha had reached out to him in the first place. He wants to know so that he can figure what to do about this monochrome mentality. He wants to know how she values life so that he may learn to value his, for his own sake.

Mizuha tilts her head. "Why shouldn't I?"

Dazai blinks once, twice, then-

"I'm not a good person," He informs her gravely, trying to force down the bewilderment. Good would be an understatement, since to many Dazai was devil incarnate. "You wouldn't want to associate with me if you could help it."

The maroon-haired girl raises an eyebrow, arms coming up to fold. "So?"

"So, I don't deserve to live." He gripes, feeling a little lost at the lack of comprehension on Mizuha's face. "Many would think it's better if I'm dead. You don't get it- I'm the worst of the worst."

He wants to tell her everything- just why he believes he should not live, how the loneliness in his heart plagues him, and the very thought of opening his eyes the next morning tires him. He wants to tell her how he has murdered dozens, tortured and tormented even more and how the feel of a gun in his hands is now second nature.

But for some reason, he finds his mouth unwilling to move. Unwilling to reveal the darkness that plagues his very soul. Would she then look at him with fearful, unsure eyes? Would she too, abandon him?

And if she did -as strange and outlandish as the thought was for Dazai has just met the woman- would Dazai even survive?

Mizuha narrows her eyes. "Are you a pedophile?"

Dazai chokes on his own spit at that. "W-What? No!"

"Then, a rapist?"

"Of course not!" Dazai snaps defensively. He may like scheming and tormenting people for a living but even he had his own set of morals. Pedophilia and rape were a line he refuses to cross, no matter how low he falls and those under his command with such urges don't last long either. He's always had particular pleasure in dealing with them.

At his indignation, Mizuha unfolds her arms and shrugs. "Then, you're okay."

"…What?"

Mizuha gives him a small smile at that, and Dazai knows for a fact his bewilderment is showing. He does not attempt to hide it.

"Those two are the only two crimes I can think of, that can't be done out of necessity." Mizuha looks at him squarely. "They are done for pleasure at the expense of another. Everything else- stealing suppose, are subject to people's circumstances."

She steps back and Dazai realizes she has pulled the door to the guest room open. "How can I judge someone without fully understanding their reasons? Besides, a kid like you hardly looks malicious."

"A kid like me?" Dazai forces out helplessly, completely, and utterly befuddled.

Mizuha actually chuckles at that. "That; my cousin speaks of you often and it was through him I found out you turn seventeen soon."

"Then…kid?"

"Oh, couldn't you tell?" Mizuha raises an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. "I'll turn eighteen in a few months."

That's the last straw and Dazai wonders if this means he has to call her Nee-san now. Or senpai. Or something. So, here he is standing in a dimly lit corridor in an apartment above a small café alongside his friend's cousin who stopped him from committing suicide and is apparently over a year older than him.

Fun.

Mizuha's eyes twinkle. "Don't worry about it. Mizuha's fine."

Dazai can only nod.

"And another thing," She says as she pushes him inside the room gently. Dazai would scan the room, but at that moment all he can see are her eyes and how her warm gaze melts into something more serious, but just as, if not more, warm. "About your previous question."

She places a firm hand on his shoulder and fixes him with a paralyzing look, though Dazai catches the flicker of sadness pass through them. Had he not been stumped by her next statement; he might have marveled at their height difference. He was a good deal taller than her, though he could tell she had a few inches on Chuuya.

Mizuha's eyes soften.

"All life is precious, even yours; no matter how much you may deny it." When Dazai moves to protest, she fixes him with a look. "Yes, even yours. There will be people who will mourn you, who care for you and will miss you."

"I think that's rather unlikely." Dazai gripes, his familiar façade slowly slips into place. His signature smile spreads on his face and he watches as Mizuha frowns. "In fact, they'd be rather relieved-"

"Can you say the same for my cousin?" Mizuha asks, cutting him off. She continues when Dazai falls silent. "Can you say the same for me?"

"Well, we only just met-" Dazai begins uncomfortably. Mizuha shoots him a look.

"I don't need to know you to not wish for you to kill yourself, Dazai-kun." She frowns and Dazai resists the urge to curse himself. He liked her smile. "I didn't need to know who you were to pull you away from that railing."

"But-"

"No buts," Mizuha says firmly and Dazai can only watch. Instead of the irritation he'd expected before, something warm swells in his chest, though he knows not what it means. "I hope you understand even if you think no one cares, at least my cousin and I wish for your happiness. We will mourn you."

"You don't even know me." Dazai points out helplessly.

"Do I need to?" Mizuha gives him a smile, eyes crinkling around the ends. "If that is what you believe, then I'll get to know you, so that at least in the two of us, you know you are cherished."

Silence falls over them and Dazai is left staring at the confusing girl. He searches her face for any insincerity, for any uncertainty that might feed his crippling doubts. But when he finds none, the brunette feels his hands clench. Out of frustration or happiness, he cannot tell.

He has never truly known the emotions after all.

But looking down at her, at this small girl that smiles at him warmly as if he weren't a cold-blooded murderer, Dazai feels something else, something he can't identify rise within him.

And when he opens his mouth, the voice that escapes him is unlike any he has ever heard come out of his own mouth. It is small, it is vulnerable, it is unsure and yet determined.

"I want to live."

Mizuha's smile widens. "Then we will be beside you every step of the way."

And he does, he does wish to live deep down inside. Is that not why he joined the Port Mafia, in hopes of seeing people so close to life and death and figure out their reason to fight to live? Is that not why he had been so attracted to Oda and Ango, who honored life in both the dead and in the youth they raised? Is that not why he'd waited for hours in the freezing cold before stepping off the ledge, in hopes of someone, anyone coming to his rescue as unlikely as it was?

Somehow this girl has yanked out the deepest desire of his heart in the span of minutes and Dazai couldn't be more pleasantly surprised. She is strange, he notes, as she pushes him towards his bed pointedly and bids him goodnight with a warm smile, asking him to come to her if he has any problems.

She is strange, and perhaps he is too, for never did he ever think he'd find himself beneath a bundle of blankets in a bed foreign to him, and yet he'd feel more at home in that bed, in that room, in those midnight-colored eyes than he ever had in his apartment.

Oda Sakunosuke is a simple man, Osamu Dazai has always known this.

He lives each day for the children he supports, refuses to kill in a job that takes lives, and is gifted with an ability that is to be boasted about, and yet he doesn't. Osamu knows this, which why he was so confused at the sudden revelation of Mizuha's existence.

For Mizuha Hagane is completely different from her cousin and yet startling similar to him, in her silent kindness, her subtle warmth, and her reassuring presence. She is complex within her ideals, her beliefs, and yet simple enough to not get lost in the vast shades of grey that is the world and the people inside it.

She lives with each day, with each and every moment, always looking ahead. And she loves, she loves freely in a way Dazai can only envy, for it is something he can never achieve. She loves to the point she can cherish the lives of others dearly in addition to her own.

And somehow, oddly enough, Osamu Dazai feels something clear within him at that moment. It is a small change but to the boy cast in monotony and monochrome for so long, it is cathartic. It is freeing.

And suddenly he doesn't feel like he's suffocating anymore. It is brief, the moment he breaks out of the depths of his depression but it is enough, it is more than enough, for it reminds him of the him that lived and loved and just breathed.

It is enough for him, at that moment for even as he sinks back in, he can now remember the taste of freedom, the respite that doesn't mean him jumping off a bridge.

And in that moment, in his yearning for something more innocent and as his heart fills with a childish hope, Osamu Dazai too, is a simple man.

Chapter Text

"Remember it's just natural that
We'll be there if you need help
Far across the distance
Rest assured that our faith just won't die"

                                          --Might+U ; Makayla Phillips.

The next morning Mizuha wakes up to the chortle of her alarm and sighs quietly before dragging herself out of bed.

Though it is a weekend, she has a long day ahead of her- between running the café, reporting to Aiko-san, and submitting the rest of her thesis. An unexpected wild card did also throw a wrench in her plans- truth be told, she hadn't expected to meet her dear cousin's only friend this way.

Sakunosuke had given her a brief rundown of Dazai's problems before, in an attempt to get advice as to how to approach him. Mizuha didn't know how to tell him specializing in child psychology didn't automatically give her the qualifications to answer such a loaded question.

Besides, despite his natural disposition- or at least from what Mizuha had seen and heard from Sakunosuke, Osamu Dazai was not a child. Mizuha couldn't just pick him apart in an attempt to fix him- that would be callous.

But her cousin had been desperate, a refreshing change to his normally stoic and passive personality and Mizuha had known he'd genuinely cared for the boy.

A single glance at the boy had told her everything she needed to know; Osamu Dazai couldn't be fixed with a few words of support. Held afloat in his self-hatred for a while yes, but unraveling his complexity was something a mere psychology student like her couldn't do.

She could understand him yes, understand and empathize with his pain more than others, but she wasn't a miracle worker. Dazai would never heal if he didn't wish so and the disheartening fact was that he didn't want to either. The fact was glaringly obvious when she'd seen him step off the railing of Yokohama Bridge, the fact that he'd given up in the face of demons.

Only he hadn't.

And Mizuha was hit with that realization in the stolen moments they'd spent outside the guestroom yesterday. His questions had been asked with an air of indifference, but Mizuha had known Akiko long enough to catch the underlying desperation. And even if she hadn't, his chaotic eyes had spoken all.

Osamu Dazai still yearned to live, no matter how low he'd fallen.

He was still wanted to find a reason to cherish life.

Looking at him made Mizuha wonder how such a young child could have eyes like his. No child should look that, no child should be lonely enough that no one would search for him when he went missing in the middle of the night. And this darkness, this heaviness of his gaze was not something that bloomed on a whim- it was something carefully cultivated, carefully grown in the recesses of one's mind over the course of years.

How long had Osamu Dazai been like this?

She was only a year older than the boy, which made the realization even more maddening. It seemed he hadn't realized when she'd reassured him last night but she'd been terribly shaken, barely holding onto herself as she'd told him, no stressed to him that he deserved to live.

He deserved to live.

Again, Mizuha was hardly qualified to go on a savior's mission. Truth be told, she had no real desire to do so either-she'd leave the savior's complex to her stoic cousin. He did have a talent for picking up strays after all.

For now, what she could do was provide an optional sanctuary to the boy. She could never forgive herself if she went about her day as usual and ignored someone in need. In that way, she supposed she was infuriatingly similar to her cousin- the only family she had left.

A safe-haven for the boy, a sanctuary where he didn't need to place up his walls and could just be himself- as hard as it may be for him. But Mizuha had always had a knack for making chaotic people stop in their tracks; an ironic reflection of her Ability.

Akiko would cackle if she found out Mizuha admitted this.

But denial aside, it was that very reason (aside from being a sucker for kids) that Mizuha was studying child psychology in the first place. She was good with kids, which showed in the child hospitals she regularly volunteered at.

All Mizuha wanted was to comfort children, to guide them towards a future that shone brightly for them. Even if meant throwing all her potential away in the eyes of her estranged parents.

A teacher? They'd hissed, eyes narrowed and disgust painting their faces.

It was less disgust for her decision and more so about the occupation itself. It made sense, the very idea of the descendant of a long line of successful lawyers and doctors opting for such a mediocre career was utterly preposterous. She was throwing away her potential in favor of something undeniably below her.

It didn't help that she'd been a prodigy from a young age.

The redhead's eyes were unfocused as she worked around the kitchen on autopilot. Dully, she registered she was making pancakes. They were an acceptable breakfast, right? Mizuha didn't know what Dazai liked, but everyone liked pancakes, right?

Right?

Reassuring herself that indeed, Dazai wouldn't mind a stack of messily dressed pancakes for breakfast, she got to work, this time less lost in thought.

Well, her parent's opinion didn't matter much to her anymore.

She'd been hurt of course, by their condemnation and their anger, but she'd found sanctuary in the company and care of her friends and her mentors. Especially her orphaned cousin, who himself had been condemned for his obscure job at a random company.

Sakunosuke had always lent her an ear and she was very grateful for his support, as subtle and unassuming as it may be. Her cousin was always like that, showing his affection in little, small actions that could be overlooked but once noticed, bled with thoughtfulness.

Which was why she wasn't surprised by his call about Dazai.

He'd always cared, but found it difficult to show. But in those moments, when he talked about his boss's illegitimate son? Apprentice? Heir? -Mizuha still doesn't quite know how he's related to him- the concern had been obvious on his face. And so had the worry, care, and genuine affection.

Mizuha had been mildly impressed. Twenty-one years of existence and he'd finally made a friend. Cool.

As the familiar thud of footsteps reaches her ears, Mizuha turns around just in time to grace Dazai with a warm smile. He looks a little dazed, still somewhat confused about his surroundings and Mizuha watches as his eyes gradually grow sharper with recognition. She can't help but smile in amusement- he reminded her a lot of that scatterbrained yet frighteningly perceptive friend of Akiko's. Ranpo, was it?

"Good Morning, Dazai-kun." She greets him casually, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of him as he seats himself at the kitchen island. "I trust you slept well?"

"Like a log." Dazai's voice is low as if he still isn't quite awake yet and Mizuha can see how his eyes are much lighter and unburdened. It is a stark contrast to the darkness, the heaviness of last night. Mizuha's smile widens slightly. "Thank you."

She's glad he's feeling better, even if it's only by little.

He does look like he's slept well since the dark circles under his eyes are much less pronounced. Mizuha now fears even thinking about how little he was sleeping in the first place if a mere eight hours of sleep can rid him of so many.

Her gaze softens.

"I'm glad." She tells him, gesturing towards the plate. "Dig in."

And she means it, even if it means pushing back her schedule by a little. Dazai looks like he'd fall over with a particularly strong gust of wind. He's all knobby knees, long limbs, and lanky height. There's hardly any meat on him, and Mizuha reckons she could knock him over with a casual punch with how thin his arms look.

It's even more apparent now that he's ditched that coat of his, and Mizuha can't help but wonder if the reason it was slung over his shoulders and not worn properly was in an attempt to hide his noodle arms. It's an amusing thought, and Mizuha hides her grin into her coffee.

"Aren't you going to eat too, Mizuha-chan?" Dazai's inquiring voice pulls her out of her thoughts, and Mizuha smiles a little at the way he addresses her. She'd meant it that she preferred to be called by her first name and she is glad he didn't refuse like those around her usually did.

She hums, shooting him a reassuring smile. "I'm more of a lunch gal, Dazai-kun. Coffee's my go-to in the morning."

"Are you sure? You don't want any?" Dazai looks hesitant, but Mizuha can see he doesn't truly mean it and she has an inkling why. She's been praised for her cooking, but never in such a roundabout way where someone won't share her own pancakes with her.

She hides her grin, though she can tell she isn't doing a good job. "I'm fine, Dazai-kun. You keep going."

Dazai doesn't ask twice, digging into his pancakes with an eagerness Mizuha has only seen once before. It's on that friend of Akiko's- the scarily perceptive one, who has an almost unbearable sweet tooth. He'd all but snatched Mizuha's obligatory valentine chocolates out of her hands.

As he'd devoured them like a starved man, Mizuha had done her best to calm her raging friend down alongside her growing amusement as Ranpo turned to look at her as if she were a goddess. If she'd known he was such a sucker for sweets and the like, she'd have gotten him more and she'd told him as much.

Ranpo had looked at her like a man in love.

Mizuha had burst into laughter at that.

Speaking of Akiko and Ranpo…she'd heard the two were working together in that Detective Agency she heard so much about. It's amazing how they'd gotten job offers ahead of graduating, though Mizuha seriously doubts Ranpo is an actual student at Yokohama University. If he wasn't, well, Mizuha doesn't want to know how he keeps appearing on university grounds so easily.

She steps aside to retrieve her thesis from her room- if she's to submit this today, she wants to go over the content once more in case there were any mistakes. Akiko had reassured her dozens of times that it was perfectly fine, but Mizuha still wanted to be sure.

Her cousin's friend barely notices her leave, though he did look up in curiosity when she returns with a thick file. She gives him a small smile but does not speak, and he doesn't break the silence either as they both continue with their work.

The air between them is not awkward at all, a wave of mutual understanding washing over them. So, for the next twenty minutes, Mizuha flips through her thesis and sips her coffee slowly, while Dazai busies himself with his pancakes and then a -ahem, generously sweetened coffee that definitely does not look like it could give someone diabetes with a single sip.

Dazai grins in bemusement as he watches Mizuha flinch.

That mildly traumatizing experience aside, Mizuha shuts her book shut when she feels Dazai's gaze on her. The boy looks significantly more composed than he was yesterday, and the fact that she's seen him at his most vulnerable, emotional state is the only reason why she notices the blatant façade on his face.

It seems he's put all his masks back on.

It's a saddening thought, since that means his previous comfort has all evaporated. But what reassures her is that, thankfully, she can see through his forced façade- having already gotten a read on his true personality.

So, when he starts whining about Sakunosuke not paying him any attention, she can tell he does not mean it. Not really, but Mizuha is not blind to the silver of genuine loneliness that passes through his eyes each time he whines about no one paying attention to him.

"Mizuha-chann," He whines and Mizuha closes her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips as she sips her coffee. She knows it is illogical to expect Dazai to be instantly comfortable with her presence, especially when she knows he has remained relatively hidden even in front of her cousin.

So she'll wait; she'll wait however long it takes for him to relax and lay down his walls.

Again, it is the least she can do; to provide the troubled boy a safe haven where he doesn't have to worry about prying eyes.

And if this modest café can provide him comfort and sanctuary, even a little- the same way it did to her years ago- then that is enough for her.

It is another half an hour before they finally step outside of the Aiko-san's café- it's not Mizuha's, she's merely running it until Aiko-san recovers from her frail health- and Mizuha watches in amusement as Dazai drapes his coat over his shoulders and effectively hides his noodle arms.

Then she waits, watching as he fidgets around semi-awkwardly as if he doesn't quite know how to say it, the unspoken question resting on his lips unsaid. He doesn't need to voice it out though, as Mizuha's eyes soften. She steps forward, placing a hand on his head and ruffling his hair.

She won't lie, it takes effort since Dazai has a good few inches on her but the boy shows his cheeky side as he dramatically leans down for her. All it does is make her smile grow.

"Come back anytime." She lowers her hand to pat his shoulder once, twice. "These doors will always be open for you."

She watches as Dazai's façade fades, for the most part, revealing a genuine expression hoards different from his happy-go-lucky smile from before. He quietens, all traces of his childish persona fading as he searches her face and resists a frown as if she is a riddle he cannot decipher.

Which is ironic, seeing as he's the anomaly here.

There is a stretch of silence in which they stare at each other- in which Dazai is scanning her face for any insincerity, any hesitation, or uncertainty in regards to her statement and in which she keeps her genuine smile, doing her best to convey her earnestness.

When he finds none, he backtracks, and Mizuha is blown away by what comes next.

Osamu Dazai breaks into a breathtaking smile.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen and it only serves to remind her, that yes, there is still hope for this charming boy.

So, she smiles back, eyes soft.

Dazai bids her goodbye with a small bow and a cheerful promise to visit again, this time with her cousin. Mizuha waves him off cheerfully, her mood at an all-time high. As soon as he disappears around a corner and she can't see him anymore, she turns in the exact opposite direction, whistling as she walks down the street.

First order of business, get to Aiko-san and give her weekly report on how business is faring at the café in her absence. Once done, she'll head to her university and hand in her final thesis. Maybe she'll grab lunch on the way back, before returning to the café and opening it for business.

The hospital Aiko-san is admitted to is only a few blocks away from the café, which is probably the only reason the stubborn woman agreed to stay over in the first place. Even then, convincing her was a challenge Mizuha never wanted to experience ever again.

But if it meant never seeing Aiko-san cough out blood as she did back then ever again, then Mizuha was willing to yell the old woman into taking care of herself if she had to.

In those moments, Mizuha had genuinely wondered if that was going to be the day she lost the only real parental figure in her life. This was the woman who'd taken in her shivering self when her own parents had abandoned her because of their pride. This was the woman who'd reassured her that their conditional love was not a weakness on her part.

And she'd wondered, even as she'd sat outside the hospital room waiting for the doctor to come out.

But Aiko-san was nothing if not stubborn, and she'd pulled through remarkably. The sheer relief Mizuha had felt in that moment was overwhelming and she'd sure shown it, bursting into relieved tears and getting scolded by the woman for worrying over her.

Mizuha smiles fondly.

After convincing Aiko-san to stay at the hospital for the recommended time, the woman had promptly handed off the keys of her café over to her pointedly. Mizuha would admit, she'd definitely been confused for a hot minute and had shown it, looking up at the old woman in confusion. Aiko-san had cocked an eyebrow, giving her a severe look.

"Who else can I trust with this? You better not let me down, brat."

Mizuha had smiled. "Hai, Aiko-san."

Aiko-san had shot her an unimpressed look, before snorting. "That's Baa-chan to you, brat."

"Ah, Hagane-chan! Good Morning!" The receptionist greets her brightly as soon as Mizuha steps inside the hospital. "It's today, isn't it? Nakamura-san’s been asking for you."

"Morning, Takahashi-san," Mizuha says, smiling a little sheepishly. "Wish me luck."

Takahashi-san rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't be silly. You know she loves you!"

Mizuha softens. "Of course, same room?"

"You know it," Takahashi-san confirms. "What should I tell the children? You know they miss you."

"I know." Mizuha can't help the pout that rises to her lips at the thought. Between finishing her thesis in time and running the café, she'd been swamped with work and hadn't been able to visit the children she'd taken care of during her volunteer work. "I'll drop by for a few minutes before leaving. Can't say anymore right now, I'm afraid."

"Great! I'll inform the Children's Ward!"

Mizuha gives her a smile before continuing on her way, waving to the nurses friendlily on her way to Aiko-san's room. She stops in front of the room that reads Aiko Nakamura in a small adjustable placard on the door. She waits for a beat, sucking in a breath as she gathers herself before pushing the door open.

Aiko-san takes one look at her and her face twists.

"By God, child, when was the last time you took a bath?"

Mizuha smiles, taking the comment in stride as she steps inside and places her bags down at the foot of Aiko-san's bed. "It's nice to see you too, Aiko-san."

"You youngsters are all the same these days," Aiko-san grumbles, and the nurse inside the room and Mizuha exchange amused looks. "Talking back to your elders- cheeky brats, the whole lot of you."

Mizuha raises an eyebrow pointedly at the nurse, who sends her meaningful look. Meds?

The nurse breaks into a bemused smile, nodding slightly. Meds.

Let it be known one Aiko Nakamura's worst enemy is her medicine.

"Have you not been sleeping properly?" Aiko-san squints, eyes narrowing as she scans Mizuha's face. "Is it because of that trap those idiots at the university gave you? Fools, the lot of them, I'd say!"

Mizuha's smile widens.

Another thing to know about Aiko-san; she grumbles about any and everything.

"And you!" She wags a bony finger at her. "You better take care of yourself, missy! I won't tolerate negligence!"

"Hai, hai, Aiko-san." Mizuha hums, settling down in a seat beside her. She nods at the nurse as she leaves the room to give them some privacy. All in all, Mizuha doesn't have in it her to get annoyed by the woman's constant nagging- she never has and probably never will. She's just glad Aiko-san is energetic enough to scold her again like this.

She turns away slightly to pull out a long thin file, placing it down in Aiko-san's lap before turning out to fiddle around at her side table in search of the woman's reading glasses. "Here's the record for the café's earnings for this week. I'm afraid I can't stay long since I'll be handing in my thesis today."

"Today?" Aiko-san asks suspiciously, taking the glasses Mizuha hands her.

"Today," Mizuha reassures her. "Don't worry, I'll take some time off after handing it in. I've already finished all my credit hours and all that's left is the thesis review and graduation."

Aiko-san doesn't reply at that, reading glasses perched precariously on a long nose as she peers down at her with narrowed eyes. Mizuha waits for her to speak, remaining silent as she examines her. Then, after a few minutes of silence, she speaks.

"You've grown thinner."

"Have I?" Mizuha chuckles nervously, a bead of sweat forming as she realizes where this conversation is going. "Rather, I've been thinking I've gained some! I mean-"

Aiko-san just watches her seriously before cutting off her rambling. "Mizuha."

Mizuha shuts up. Aiko-san's gaze softens and places the records book down, reaching out a wrinkled hand Mizuha dutifully takes.

"What's wrong, child?"

Mizuha lowers her head. For as long as she had known the old woman, Aiko-san has always had this effect on her. The woman's reproachful gaze would have Mizuha spilling out her worries, which was often- seeing as Aiko-san caught on to worry and tension like a hawk did its prey. More often than not, Mizuha has wondered if the woman is hiding an ability.

Mizuha smiles, but it is a small thing since tiredness overtakes her. Hey, no one said talking out a person out of suicide wasn't going to be emotionally exhausting. Aiko-san watches her growing concern.

"I talked someone out of jumping yesterday." She says quietly, even as the smile remains on her face. She is glad, she is really glad she was able to, and it is something she will never regret doing.

Aiko-san's expression melts.

"Oh Mizuha,"

"I know," Mizuha chuckles. The redhead leans back in her seat, though she keeps her grip on her parent figure's hand. A small touch like that calms her down easily. "Just, he's a friend of Saku-ni's. I remember him asking for advice a while back and I just had to wonder-"

"-If you say you feel guilty, I swear I will slap you so hard-"

"-I know, I know." This time Mizuha's chortle is genuine. Aiko-san is startlingly similar to Akiko, and it shows in the way they comfort others. Though this is the first time she's seen threats of bodily harm used as a way to comfort someone. "I don't feel guilty- I was just thinking about it."

"What about?" Aiko-san raises an eyebrow.

"The kid's younger than me, Aiko-san," Mizuha informs her and watches as Aiko-san's face drops slightly. "At least a year, and watching him made me wonder a little."

Silence spreads around the room, as Mizuha waits for her words to wash over Aiko-san. Unbeknownst to many, Aiko-san had lost her own husband to suicide, and it was in his honor that she'd started the Au Revoir café, in the language of her beloved husband.

Till we meet again.

Though to their customers, it was a merry bid of return, to those who knew- who were acquainted with the man- the inspiration behind the name and the café; they knew how much it meant to the woman. In the ten years since his death, there had not been a single day Aiko Nakamura had closed her store.

Mizuha had marveled at the woman's devotion, marveled at her sentimentality and she still did, years later. Aiko-san was brusque, stubborn, and hotheaded, but she had a layer to her personality that only surfaced when she faced the people she cherished.

Her darling René who'd dreamed of opening his own little café, and caring for his customers as if they were family. Her darling Rene, who could never turn away anybody in need. Her darling Rene, who'd left this world too early.

Which was why, when she'd stumbled across Mizuha in the freezing cold all those years ago, finding out the girl had been abandoned the same way her Rene had, she'd known she couldn't just walk away. Not again.

Mizuha smiles, watching as Aiko-san's face softens.

"Aiko-san." She starts, bringing the woman's attention to herself. Her smile does not falter, growing even more gentle. "I want him to return to Au Revoir, but not because he has no choice."

"I want to walk in here happily, smiling and laughing because that is what he deserves." Because that was what he deserved.

"I want Au Revoir to be a place where people come to seek comfort, to escape from their worries." She continues and Aiko-san's grip on her hand tightens. She knows it is in approval. "I want it to be a haven, a sanctuary to those in need and in worry- as small as it may be so that no one who leaves us is ever dissatisfied."

She waits for a beat, waiting for the woman to reply and Aiko-san damn well takes her time, fixing Mizuha with a stilling look, before averting her eyes as she grumbles. "Well, you've made up your mind already haven't you, precocious brat? Just inform me about your wild plans for my café, would you?"

Mizuha grins. "But you don't disapprove, do you?"

Aiko-san just sniffs in reply and Mizuha chuckles. "I thought you wanted to raise brats?"

"I still have two years of higher study, Aiko-san," Mizuha informs her. "Though I'll try my hardest to graduate early."

Aiko-san rolls her eyes. "You've always been an overachiever- it's unnatural."

"Well, doesn't this give this Baa-chan bragging rights?" Mizuha teases the woman, watching as the old woman's eyes light up with evil glee. "You can show off to Emiko-san, can't you? Wasn't she bragging about her grandson a few days ago?"

Aiko-san's eyes glint with an odd light. "I knew I liked you for a reason, brat."

Mizuha laughs.

She spends the next hour with the aging woman- though Aiko-san would be loath to actually admit it- chatting about random things, watching Aiko-san grumble about a tv show, and going through the records Mizuha had prepared for her. And when the time to leave comes, Mizuha is stopped by a familiar voice when she is about to leave the room.

"Mizuha." Aiko-san watches her with serious eyes, not a hint of insincerity in her wrinkled eyes. Mizuha turns towards her and waits for her next words, tilting her head slightly questioningly. Aiko waits for a beat, surveying the girl with careful eyes, before speaking.

"I'm proud of you."

Mizuha smiles.

She plays with the children in the Children's Ward for a while, having come in too many times between visiting Aiko-san and volunteering to not grow fond of them and them vice versa. As she greets the little ones, a hand lands on her shoulder and she looks up into the warm eyes of the Head Doctor.

"Is that you, Mizuha-chan? It's been a while!"

"Midoriya-sensei." She straightens before falling to a respectful bow. Whenever she'd volunteered at the Children's Ward, Midoriya-sensei had been her superior. He was a jovial

man, with a handful of kids of his own and an even temper perfect for his position. Even now, little Aki-chan drools on his shoulder in her sleep as he greets her. "It's great to see you again."

Midoriya-san's smile widens. "Likewise, kiddo. Though I have to scold you now- you haven't been taking care of yourself, have you?"

"Why is everyone I meet saying that?" Mizuha asks in amusement.

"Probably because of the dark circles?" Midoriya-sensei raises an eyebrow. She'd have been intimidated by his countenance and his expression, except having a drooling child asleep on his shoulder lowered the intimidation factor by a lot. "But really, have you been overworking yourself?"

"I'm fine, Midoriya-san," Mizuha reassures him. "I'm taking a bit of a break after handing my thesis in."

Midoriya-san brightens. "Oh, it's today, was it? You're handing it in today, right?"

"Yes," Mizuha agrees bemusedly. As her mentor and supervisor, he'd helped her a lot with her research and had been one of the few people to review her thesis personally before giving it his stamp of approval. "After that, all I need to do is open the café in the afternoons and I have help for that."

"I'm glad." Midoriya-sensei smiles. "You deserve a break."

It is at that moment that Mizuha notices a newcomer in the children's ward. The child in question is much younger than his peers and sits in a corner alone- out of shyness or mere disinterest she can't tell with the lack of expression on his face. Midoriya-sensei's eyes follow hers and land on the boy before clicking sympathetically.

"Ah, that our newest patient. Umetarou Kouda." He tells her, eyes softening in pity. "He's here for Ability control. It manifested suddenly and violently, and it's made it impossible for him to live at home anymore since he's risking his siblings' safety."

"The rest of the children-?"

Midoriya-sensei shakes his head mournfully. "They've tried interacting with him, but he's not very social. Though that might be a by-product of missing his parents and the change in environment."

"I see," Mizuha frowns, but a thought hits her and she turns to the raven beside her. "What's his ability?"

"Some sort of telekinesis," Midoriya-sensei replies instantly. "It's a strong one too, since he can make an entire dresser float at a touch. Imagine one of his toddler siblings accidentally getting in the way."

"I understand," Mizuha can't help but admit. The boy certainly has a powerful Ability, but one that risks his relationships with the ones around him. Many Gifted children are sent to the Ward or some other institution to be cared for if their Abilities can't be handled by their parents. It seems Umetarou is the same. "Family visits?"

Midoriya-sensei shakes his head. "None, at least up till now. Has a concerned aunt though, but she can't visit him without his parent's approval."

"They won't let her visit?" Mizuha raises an eyebrow.

Midoriya-sensei grimaces, looking rather uncomfortable and a strange mix of anger and pity filling his eyes.

"They're afraid, Mizuha-chan, and to be honest, I can’t really blame them.” He says quietly. “No one’s really ready to raise Ability-users. The aunt's the only one worried for him, and she's not happy with how he's being treated. They're duking it out in court for now, which is why Ume-kun is here."

"It's understandable," Mizuha's smile falls slightly and eyes lower. "But that doesn't excuse their actions."

"True," Midoriya-sensei nods. "But we can't really do something about that, can we? Aside from making sure Ume-kun is comfortable here, of course."

"The aunt's not going to win, is she?" Mizuha asks.

Midoriya-sensei does not reply.

The redhead sighs, shutting her eyes as she breathes out to calm herself down. She remains silent for a moment and when she reopens her eyes, a determined calm has spread over her midnight-colored eyes.

"I have some friends in the ADA," She informs him. "I'll ask them to look into it."

Midoriya-sensei frowns. "The ADA? I think they're hardly equipped to deal with child abuse cases."

Mizuha shrugs. "Even if Ranpo-kun doesn't pick up the case, a single word from him will certainly boost the urgency of the case. It's worth it."

"Are you sure?" Midoriya-sensei can't help but ask in worry, watching the maroon-haired girl as she gazes softly at the small boy in the distance. Mizuha's smile is sad, but incredibly genuine as she softly replies.

"Of course."

That is all the confirmation Midoriya-sensei needs, and Mizuha leaves her mentor in favor of walking off in the direction of the little boy. Her mentor watches her with slightly amused eyes, well aware of her meddling personality before he shakes his head and returns his attention to the other children. He trusts Mizuha can handle this.

Meanwhile, Mizuha has already approached the boy. Umetarou Kouda is a beautiful child, with large soulful eyes and shaggy dark hair. Oddly enough, he reminds her of a certain noodle-armed individual.

She crouches in front of him, raising a hand invitingly. She wouldn't force him to accept her interference, he must make the choice on his own. Kouda looks at it as if it's an alien thing, and Mizuha smiles kindly.

"My name is Mizuha Hagane, what's your name?"

Kouda visibly shies, but when he sees she isn't leaving he peeks out from his long bangs before a small voice escapes him. "Ume…Umetarou Kouda…"

Mizuha's smile widens.

"Such a pretty name," She gushes. "May I call you Ume-kun?"

The boy gives a shy nod.

"It's nice to meet you, Ume-kun," Mizuha says genuinely. Her hand is still held out, but despite the furtive glances the boy sends it, he makes no move to actually take it. Judging by his nervousness, Mizuha has an inkling why. "I hope we can be friends!"

"F-Friends?" The boy looks adorably taken aback.

"Mhm," Mizuha nods. "Ume-kun seems like a good boy, after all!"

"I'm not."

Mizuha stops.

Umetarou looks torn, looking down at the floor as he clenches his hands. Mizuha can tell that while he wholeheartedly believes his words, he does not want to say them. "I'm not a good boy."

Again, brown hair and crippling hazel eyes flash in her mind, and Mizuha forces away the resemblance. But that doesn't stop her gaze from softening.

"Why would you think so, Ume-kun?" She asks carefully.

Ume-kun clenches his hands tighter. "I-I'm cursed. Like an evil villain. I make things fly away."

"Really?" Mizuha asks softly. "Is that why you won't take my hand? You think you'll make me fly away too?"

Ume-kun gives a slow nod.

Mizuha chuckles, making the boy look at her in surprise.

"Ume-kun," She croons sweetly. "Will you please take my hand?"

"But -But-"

"Trust me," She stares into his unsure eyes. "I won't fly away. Besides, I want to hold my new friend's hand."

Ume-kun hesitates and Mizuha can understand why, so she waits patiently as he musters up the courage. He regresses a few times, but each time Mizuha encourages him with kind words until finally, he reaches out one small, chubby hand. Mizuha resists the urge to frown when she sees the crescent-shaped nail marks on his hand, from where he'd clenched it so hard in his confliction.

The look on Ume-kun's face is almost resigned as he takes her hand which makes his reaction when nothing happens to her even more heartwarming.

"What…?" He mumbles wide-eyed, before looking up at her in disbelief. Mizuha smiles.

"See, Ume-kun? Nothing happened!"

"B- But how?" He stammers shakily.

Mizuha leans in closer, as if she is telling him a secret. "You're my friend so I'll tell Ume-kun, but like Ume-kun, I have an Ability too!"

"You…too?"

"Uh-huh," Mizuha nods. "My Ability won't make me or anyone fly away anymore."

"Really?" Ume-kun gasps and for the first time since their conversation started, Mizuha can see the wonder in his eyes. "Are you a superhero?

Mizuha laughs at his words. "No, no. I'm no superhero. But there's something I want to tell you, Ume-kun."

"Yes?"

"Ume-kun, you aren't cursed," Mizuha says genuinely. Umetarou flinches, but Mizuha continues, not tearing her gaze away from his. "You have a beautiful gift you should love. It's cool and it's amazing and I think it's awesome."

"But- But-"

Umetarou looks downcast, averting his eyes over her shoulder. Mizuha isn't a fool, she's seen him sneaking peeks at the other happy children. No matter how hesitant he may be, he is still a child at heart and that means he wishes to be like everyone else- to play and laugh and make friends.

"Don't worry about controlling it." That catches his attention. "All the nice big people here won't let anyone fly away. Though, the kids might like it a lot."

Mizuha chuckles at the last statement and Ume-kun looks at her in childish wonder. There it is, that wonder. Once it's there, everything is easy.

"Why don't I show you?" She says, eyes twinkling.

"W-Wait!"

But as if waiting for the opportunity, Amaya-chan and Sei-kun swoop in and make their appearance. Mizuha pats their heads as they all turn to Ume-kun who looks a little overwhelmed.

"Ne, ne, Mizu-ne-chan! Can we play?"

"I wanna fly, I wanna fly like Superman!"

"Ume-kun," She says gently. "Why don't you give it a try?"

He visibly hesitates. "Don't worry, nothing bad will happen. I have an Ability too, remember?"

That is the last push the young boy needs, as he lets go of her hand and reached out to hold each of Amaya-chan's and Sei-kun's hands. As if on cue, the two children start floating into the air and Umetarou watches as they rise. He looks a little helpless, though his worry fades a little when Sei starts imitating a fish swimming in water.

"Now, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Mizuha ruffles the boy's hair, as they both watch the giggling two. Ume-kun nods, a hand clutching her jeans as he hides behind her timidly. "Now why don't you try lowering them back down?"

"W-What?"

"Think about them landing on the ground gently," Mizuha advises him. "Your Ability is a part of your body- it's an extension of you. It will do what you want it to."

"B-But…"

"Trust me, Ume-kun," Mizuha reassures him. "I'll catch them if they fall but please do try, will you?"

The boy gulps, before his features harden as he concentrates. Slowly, but surely, both Sei and Amaya are lowered to the ground successfully before they race back to Ume-kun in excitement.

"Whoa, that was so cool!"

"You're amazing, Ume-kun! Let's be friends!"

"Yeah! Let's play together!"

Poor Ume-kun staggers back at the sudden positive attention, eyes wide as he panics and the next thing Mizuha knows is the shaggy-haired boy floating up to her eye level, his face beetroot red in embarrassment.

"Oh my," She comments in amusement, plucking Ume-kun out of the air. "It seems like our Ume-kun is very shy, kids. Be a little gentle, would you?"

"Oh, okay!"

"I'm sorry, Ume-kun!"

"I-It's okay," Umetarou stammers as Mizuha places him back onto the ground. His hands grip her pant leg in a vice-like grip.

"Hey, wanna play cars with me?" Sei offers gently. As an older brother to a shy little sister, he knows how to approach shy kids. His sister likes to play with dolls with him, maybe Ume-kun will like cars then?

Umetarou looks up at Mizuha first, his face a mix of worry and anticipation. Mizuha smiles, nudging him slightly. "Go on, they're your friends, aren't they? They want to play with Ume-kun."

With Mizuha's blessing, the boy slowly lets go of her pant leg and carefully inches towards the eager two. When he reaches them, Amaya takes his hand and to his surprise, nothing happens. He whips his head to look back at Mizuha with wide eyes and the girl winks.

And for the first time since they'd met, the boy breaks into a smile.

And its heartbreakingly relieved.

As she watches the three play, with Amaya's boisterousness countered by Sei's calm personality for young Umetarou, she notices Midoriya-sensei slowly inch up beside her, eyes on the three as well. "Correct me if I'm wrong Mizuha-chan, but last I checked, your Ability isn't related to telekinesis or is a nullifying ability."

"You're not wrong, Sensei." She admits.

"So, care to tell me just how you kept Umetarou's Ability in check?"

"It was easy," Mizuha shrugs, ignoring his gaze. "Ume-kun is afraid of his own Ability. He can't control it is he's being manipulated by fear. I just gave him a nudge in the right direction, his Ability will listen to him if he genuinely approaches it."

"You speak of Abilities as if they are alive, Mizuha-chan." The doctor shakes his head in amusement.

"They are though?" Mizuha tilts her head in confusion. "Are they not an extension of our body, of our minds? We're all alive, aren't we?"

Midoriya-sensei smiles at that, ruffling her hair "You did well."

As she looks up, Midoriya's hand still in her hair, her gaze is drawn to the three children playing with cars and softens. "I'm glad."

Chapter Text

"Hands put your empty hands in mine
And scars show me all the scars you hide
And hey, if your wings are broken
Please take mine 'til yours can open too
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you "

                                          --Stand By You: Rachel Platten

Mizuha waits for Dazai.

A day passes, then another, and another but the brunet never returns. Mizuha isn’t disheartened at all, knowing he’d drop by once he felt comfortable. She does briefly entertain the possibility that he might’ve attempted suicide in her absence, but she doesn’t wish to believe it.

She wants to believe in Dazai.

So she works, does her best with Au Revoir, and hopes Dazai will do the same. He seems like a good person- messy and disillusioned with his mentality, yes- but Mizuha knows that her cousin would have never vouched for someone who wasn't good.

Besides, no human was inherently good or evil- humans were all the product of their breeding and society that raised them. Society had failed Osamu Dazai though, just like it has so many others, but the silver of sincerity that shines in his eyes in every interaction he’s had with her speaks volumes about him.

Osamu Dazai is merely a victim, like so many others.

The girl frowns a little as she moves behind the counter, placing the washed dishes back into their respective cupboards. The girl has her hair up today, pulled back into a braided bun, and wears a black apron over her usual clothing of dark jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a grey cardigan.

Business has been slow today- Au Revoir doesn't really get many customers anyways, since few actually know of the place, and it's more of a coffee shop than an actual restaurant anyways. It only takes a total of three people to run the place, excluding Aiko-san of course.

“Hagane-senpai?”

A small voice pulls her out of her thoughts, and she turns to look at Maria-chan, one of the employees running the café with her. Maria-chan is a pretty girl of sixteen, with large doe-like eyes, chocolate brown hair, and a timid personality that really has no place at her job as a waitress.

The girl looks perpetually worried but seems even more so now, so Mizuha softens and smiles as she tries to calm the girl. "Yes, Maria-chan? What do you need?"

“Um,” The girl fiddles with her apron nervously. “I-I-”

Mizuha waits patiently, knowing it takes the girl some time to fully voice out her thoughts. Anxiety is a real pain, and Mizuha sympathizes with the girl.

“Spit it out already, Maria.”

A voice cuts in and both girls turn to look at the newcomer.

Akihiko is the last of the three employees that run Au Revoir and works full time as the chef- baking delightful cakes and fragile desserts that at a glance seem like the polar opposite of his brash personality. He's also Maria's neighbor and has grown up with her for pretty much his entire life. He’s much older than Mizuha at twenty-one and has been working at Au Revoir longer than Mizuha herself.

Messy black hair, a few silver ear piercings, and sharp eyes that watch Maria as the brunette flushes. Mizuha smiles slightly, watching as Maria's anxiety fades away. Akihiko is also the only one who can make Maria's anxiety disappear instantly- by very conveniently annoying her.

“Go away, Aki-ni! I’m talking to Mizuha-senpai!”

"Hah?" Akihiko looks affronted. "Blushing and stuttering aren't talking, dumbass. Just ask her already!"

“I am!” The girl flushes, heatedly turning to Mizuha who is visibly amused. “I-I-”

“-Oh, for fuck’s sake-” Akihiko groans.

“-Ineedthenextfewdaysoffisitokay?”

“…What?” Mizuha asks the girl, slightly surprised. Let it be known Maria has a talent for rapping, though it’s at the expense of anyone listening having zero idea what she’s saying. Akihiko rolls his eyes so hard it seems like it hurts. Mizuha shoots him a look and he mimes zipping his mouth shut.

“I need the next few days off,” Maria starts again, this time more slowly at Mizuha’s reassurance, wringing her hands nervously. “I have a school fair coming up.”

Mizuha hums. “Is that all?”

Maria nods timidly.

"Sure, take the time off," Mizuha says kindly. "You've been working very hard these past few days. Take a break."

“But-”

“Don’t worry,” Mizuha punches Akihiko’s arm hard, who yelps and sends her a dark look as he rubs his arm. Good, let that be revenge. “I have this grump with me. Everything will be fine.”

"Who're you calling grumpy, short stack…" Akihiko mutters darkly and Maria looks between them uncertainly. When he notices the meaningful look Mizuha sends him, he straightens even as he rolls his eyes. "Whatever, I'll babysit her."

He gets another punch for that.

As the tall man rubs his arm with a grimace, Mizuha places a firm hand on Maria's shoulder and gives her a reassuring smile. "Don't you worry at all. Take your time, okay?"

“And when you get back, tell me all about the fair, okay?” Mizuha winks.

“Hai, senpai!” Maria brightens slightly. Akihiko snorts in the background, finally letting go of his arm as he straightens.

“Let’s go chibi,” He says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take you home.”

Mizuha waves the two pseudo-siblings out of Au Revoir. It's getting dark and for all of Akihiko's brusque personality, he's protective over the timid Maria who often gets taken advantage of. Which roughly translates to him gruffly taking her home every day after her shift and then returning home for the rest of his shift.

It cuts into a major portion of his break but he still insists on taking Maria home, not that Mizuha actually counts it as his break.

Which leaves Mizuha alone at Au Revoir for around an hour or so, managing orders all on her own. It’s not a big deal, since plating and serving aren't all hard and Mizuha prides herself on making a good cup of coffee. Akihiko has already prepared all of the desserts ahead of time, so all Mizuha needs to do is plate them according to orders.

The girl smiles welcomingly as a few customers walk in, taking their orders as they take their seats. Truth be told, Au Revoir could be managed comfortably between Mizuha and Akihiko. Both of them had been working at Au Revoir for years; Akihiko much longer than Mizuha herself and Mizuha practically lived upstairs and for the longest time, the two had worked together alone.

It wasn’t hard, since Akihiko specialized in desserts and Mizuha could make a mean cup of coffee. They alternated between cashing and waiting when needed. Maria had come up to Mizuha a few months back with starry eyes and a youthful determination on her face, stating that she wished to improve her confidence and people skills.

Mizuha had taken one look at Aiko-san who’d sighed once, before hiring the girl part-time. Akihiko had rolled his eyes so hard Mizuha had feared they’d roll out.

Mizuha fixes a smile on her face as she carefully walks to the seated customers- a young couple with the boy being a frequent customer at Au Revoir- with a tray in hand.

“Here you go,” She places their coffee and cake down elegantly, smiling warmly at the couple who both flush in embarrassment. “Do tell me if you need anything else.”

“T-Thank you!”

Mizuha gives them another smile as she turns to leave, only to whirl back around as a loud voice reaches her. The girl in the booth yelps in pain as her hand hits the coffee cup when she tries to pick up the cake and spills all over her hand.

“Ouch! Oh-Oh my…”

“Sakura!” The boy stands up in a hurry, reaching out towards the teary girl. But Mizuha reaches her first.

The maroon-haired girl turns and cradles Sakura’s burned hand gently between her own, muttering a small apology as she looks up at the girl questioningly. “May I?”

Sakura looks a little confused, but the teary girl nods. Mizuha gives her a reassuring smile.

"I have an Ability that can patch this up," Mizuha explains. "May I use it?"

“P-Please…”

Mizuha’s smile softens. “Of course.”

And as she says it, her eyes start to glow brighter as she stares back onto the burn. A blink of her eyes, and the burn is there no more. Sakura and the boy’s eyes widen in surprise, and the former raises her healed hand with disbelief. Another glance and the spilled coffee is gone, replaced with a steaming cup in front of Sakura.

“W-What…?”

Mizuha dusts her apron off as she straightens, picking up the coffee, a gentle smile on her face. “I’ll bring your replacement now.”

With that, the girl turns on her heel and walks back to the kitchen. When she comes back, she has a fresh cup of coffee in hand alongside a complimentary slice of cake. "There you go. The cake’s on the house.”

“Thank you so much!” Sakura’s eyes shine as she thanks Mizuha. Her boyfriend follows and Mizuha gives them a smile and bows slightly.

“It’s my pleasure.”

It’s as she returns back to the counter that the doorbell at the entrance rings, indicating another customer. Mizuha looks up, eyes widening before she breaks into a smile, though this time it is a happier one.

“Saku-ni!”

Osamu Dazai returns on a rainy day, accompanying her stoic cousin who takes one glance at her and makes a beeline towards her. They both look reasonably drenched since it's been raining for a while outside and Mizuha nods pointedly towards a coat rack at the side, making them stop.

The two shrug off their coats in return, hanging them on the rack before turning to her.

Mizuha hums, smiling brightly. “It’s been a while, Ni-san. You too, Dazai-kun.”

“Ah, did Mizuha-chan miss me?” Dazai exclaims flamboyantly, before jumping at her for a hug. Mizuha sidesteps the teenager casually who promptly lands face first on the floor, as she turns to her cousin who watches them slightly amused. When Dazai pouts from his place on the floor, Mizuha pats his wet hair placatingly.

“You’re both wet.” She fusses slightly, frowning a little as her fingers come back wet. “Where are your umbrellas? It’s been raining cats and dogs all afternoon!”

Dazai huffs, glaring slightly at Odasaku. “Someone forgot to bring their umbrella.”

Mizuha looks down at the brunette unimpressed. “My cousin isn’t the only one who should be having an umbrella, Dazai-kun.” She scolds him lightly, before turning back. “Come sit down, I’ll get some towels for you.”

The boys follow her obediently, waiting as she looks around for some spares. It’s ironic how just like their first meeting, Mizuha is once again dumping a towel over Dazai’s head and rubbing his hair dry. If Sakunosuke raises an eyebrow at it, Mizuha ignores it.

Dazai looks a little blissful at the touch, and Mizuha entertains the thought that the boy probably has never dried his hair like this, or had someone do it for him. It's a disheartening thought, but Mizuha pulls her fingers back regardless.

Better learn now than never.

Dazai doesn’t seem to share the notion, eyes jerking back open instantly.

“Go on,” Mizuha encourages him and watches as the disgruntled boy raises his hands to his head once more.

And then proceeds to rigorously tear his hair out.

“Wait, wait!” Mizuha panics, reaching forward to snatch the towel off Dazai’s head. “Stop! That’s too hard, you’ll pull all your hair out!”

Dazai blinks, tilting his head in confusion. “It’s just rubbing it dry?”

Mizuha stills, before sighing and walks around the counter once more to dump the towel on the brunet’s hair, toweling it dry herself. If he keeps on like that, he’ll probably ruin his hair. Due to her position behind Dazai, she doesn’t notice the victorious smirk that spreads across Dazai's face, and Odasaku sighs.

"I'll do it," She sighs and gently begins toweling it. Like it should be done. "What do you want to drink any way?"

“Well, some whiskey-” Dazai chirps, only to be cut off by Odasaku. “-Two americanos, please.”

Mizuha can hear Dazai’s cringe at Odasaku’s words, and she chuckles, having already seen the extent of Dazai’s sweet tooth. A pure americano would kill him.

"How about an Einspanner?” Mizuha asks the teen, smiling fondly. “Did you know it has whipped cream in it? It’s a traditional coffee from Italy.”

“Really?” Dazai brightens. “You know me so well, Mizuha-chan! Then, an Einspanner for me, and an Americano for the grump!”

Mizuha chuckles. “Order received. Would you like some cake with it?”

“Cake?” Dazai questions.

“Our chef has some pretty good ones,” Mizuha offers, letting go of the towel on Dazai’s head. “Why don’t you take a look and then decide?”

The redhead gestures towards a display cabinet, where all of Akihiko’s recent creations sit. Dazai brightens and literally hops over to them, stars in his eyes. Mizuha watches him fondly, feeling her cousin’s eyes on her.

“Mizuha,” He calls out.

“I know,” The redhead replies, heeding the man’s subtle warning. Her smile fades, and she looks at Dazai with a searching gaze, eyes scanning every minuscule change in his expression. She finds no sincerity in those eyes. Right now, as Mizuha watches him, Osamu Dazai has not a lick of emotion in his eyes, in his countenance.

He is but an empty shell.

How does a human being like that function then? How does a human devoid of emotions, of feelings, and desire survive then?

Cool.

Cool, impassive, cold-blooded logic.

A logic that has no place for factoring emotions- only making decisions that are necessary from an objective point and not a lick of passion. That same cool-cut logic has pushed him to the ledge, wondering -no, believing he can only be fixed through ending his life.

If it was logic that fueled him- like how her cousin believed- then why was it that in those moments; the moment right after she’d pulled him back and he’d gasped on the wet concrete, why were his dark eyes so incredibly lonely?

Her cousin watches her, an unknown glint in his eyes before his eyes turn to look at Dazai as well, as he opens his mouth.

"It's better if you stay away from him."

He believes it wholeheartedly, Mizuha can tell. She doesn't know why, nor can she get a read on her cousin's thoughts. His eyes are dark as if he's remembering an unsavory memory and the way he looks at Dazai tells her the teen must have played a starring role in it. But aside from the obvious, her cousin remains unreadable as always.

It's always been his greatest weakness.

She turns back to Dazai.

"He's welcome to come whenever he wants," She starts and feels Sakunosuke’s gaze snap back to her. "I will never turn away someone asking for help."

He knows that- He knows it better than anyone else, which is exactly why he frowns and replies. "He's not asking for help, Mizuha. Dazai never asks for anything, least of all help."

He only takes. Remains unsaid.

Mizuha stills, her smile fading and she turns back to look at her cousin apathetically. "Are you sure about that, cousin?"

To a degree he is, and Mizuha can tell.

 But just like how Dazai is exaggerating if not blatantly acting out his enthusiasm, Sakunosuke’s eyes shimmer with something akin to uncertainty even as he tries to hold up the front of conviction. Mizuha frowns, eyes narrowing as realization pools within her. She resists the urge to curl her lip in disgust.

"Have you ever seen him before?" Mizuha rests her chin on her hand, eyes lidding slightly as she keeps gazing at Dazai. She doesn't need to clarify - her cousin knows exactly what she's talking about. Have you ever seen him during a suicide attempt?

"His eyes are dark," She continues, eyes closing as she remembers. "There's no light in them. What I see now is brown, but that day there was nothing but black. A hopeless resigned black."

"That night," She resists a shiver, remembering how the rain had seeped through his coat, how she’d realized with a jolt that it had rained a few hours before, how she’d realized just what exactly that meant. "That night he waited for hours in the rain-for something, for someone- I don’t know who, and when he finally ended up stepping off, I saw his eyes.”

Mizuha pauses.

“He'd been disappointed."

Her cousin doesn't reply.

"No one came for him." She continues. "No one searched for him when he went missing. No one he knew reached out to him, a sixteen-year-old boy. He never asks for help is it, Sakunosuke?"

Her eyes lid with sorrow. "I wonder why."

Silence reigns between the two cousins.

Mizuha sighs when she realizes her cousin won’t be replying anytime soon. She’s given him quite a lot to think about, judging by how chaotic his expression is, but the girl merely turns away, pushing herself up to join Dazai. She forces a smile that never truly comes, for she too is lost in the implications of her recent realization.

Osamu Dazai has reached out but has never been accepted.

“Have you decided?”

She believes she does a good job keeping the strain out of her smile, but Dazai stills immediately. His dark eyes gaze down at her searchingly, as if he has caught on instantly on her emotions and this time, Mizuha’s smile turns more genuine with amusement. He truly is quite perceptive.

Dazai remains silent for a few seconds, before fixing his façade and brightening with false cheer.

"There's so many here, Mizuha-chan!" He complains. "I want to try them all but my stomach isn't big enough!"

“Well, you’re welcome to try them whenever you have time.” Mizuha chuckles. “They’re not going anywhere.”

Dazai freezes and Mizuha can tell he is coming to realize what she means. She smiles, it seems he didn’t actually believe her offer last time. Well, if he didn’t, Mizuha doesn’t mind reminding him.

Come back anytime. These doors will always be open for you.

Mizuha watches as his expression twists, his perfect facade falling in surprise. She doesn't really have a reason to be so welcoming to a random stranger. Sakunosuke may care for Dazai, but they're nowhere near real friends. More like friends due to convenience and it shows within the slight wariness in Sakunosuke's expression that he still isn’t quite used to the enigma that is Osamu Dazai.

It's understandable since Sakunosuke is revealing a hidden, private part of his life that is separate from his work life- a work Mizuha still doesn't know what entails.

It’s no fault of her cousin’s and Mizuha genuinely appreciates his earnest warning; it’s just that she needs to drive into his head that while Dazai may have his quirks, he is inherently the product of his environment. He is its reflection.

She has no real reason to care for Dazai, a random stranger like this. And yet she does. She has so many, so many different reasons.

She softens. “Dazai-kun?”

“Ah, what?” Dazai snaps out his thoughts, flushing lightly. “Sorry, yes Mizuha-chan?”

Mizuha smiles kindly at the taller boy. “I asked what cake you’d like to try today.”

“Oh,” Dazai frowns a little in thought and Mizuha can tell it’s a genuine expression- he’s genuinely confused which one to try. “Then the French Cheesecake.”

“Good choice,” Mizuha hums, turning around to go behind the counter. She’s spent too much time chatting already; she’d better get started on their drinks and check up on the rest of the customers as well. Granted it’s only the young couple from before, but still.

She feels Dazai's eyes on her as she moves around the kitchenette, humming a small tune under her breath as she places two coffee mugs to the side and picks up a plate to dish a slice of the cheesecake onto. Sakunosuke’s order is simple enough- Americanos are her specialty.

Einspanner is much trickier, but Mizuha hadn’t recommended it for nothing- Aiko-san’s carefully crafted recipe made it unparalleled to anything Akihiko and Mizuha could concoct in the kitchen by themselves. She isn’t the owner of the establishment for nothing.

Mizuha looks at Dazai pointedly as she starts dumping spoonfuls of sugar into the drink. Dazai grins ferally, mouthing the number of spoons as she puts in more. She stops at the fifth one, physically unable to force herself to add even more. It’s a crime against coffee.

Akihiko would kill her.

Ten minutes later, Mizuha pushes two cups of coffee in front of the two along with a generous serving of French Cheesecake for Dazai.

“There you go.” She says, perking up when she catches the other customers waving her over. “Give me a minute, I’ll be back.”

With that she makes a beeline for the young couple sitting in the corner, smiling a little when she realizes the two are holding hands now. The boy- a regular, thanks her for her service, and Sakura, the girl whose hand she healed smiles widely.

Mizuha can feel two gazes on her- one casual and the other heavy and curious. It doesn't take a genius to tell who's who. She smiles as she takes the couple's bill, along with a hefty tip she vehemently tries to deny. Except Sakura takes her hand and looks directly into her eyes.

“Thank you. For the burn, I mean. You deserve it, so please accept it.”

Well, Mizuha can’t refuse now, can’t she?

Mizuha is humming for joy after she sees the two out, both of them promising to visit again soon. She’ll be able to indulge with this large tip, especially since she doesn’t need to split it with Akihiko and Maria. She doesn’t mind, of course, but it’s nice to be rewarded.

She’s grinning by the time she reaches the counter, which Dazai returns tenfold before plopping down on the other side of the counter so that she can face her guests properly.

Sakunosuke raises an eyebrow. “You look happy.”

Mizuha’s grin widens.

“There’s this book I have my eyes set on,” She explains happily. “It's a little expensive since it's only distributed in hardcovers and it’s fairly new. I’ve been saving money for a while now, but now I can indulge with this!”

“You like books?” Dazai asks, genuine interest appearing on his face.

“Love them.” Mizuha hums. “I can’t buy to my heart’s content; I’d give Aiko-san a heart attack if I do that, but I like to read when I can.”

“Just borrow some from the library,” Sakanosuke points out. “It hardly costs anything.”

“Saku-ni, have you seen Yokohama Library?” Mizuha shakes her head. “It surprises me the old thing is still running. I feel sorry for the librarians there; there’s nothing left there.”

“Lack of funding?” Dazai guesses and Mizuha nods.

“No amount of donations can save it,” Mizuha sighs. “It’s sad, considering it’s the oldest library in Yokohama.”

They chat like that for the hour or so, until Akihiko returns huffing and puffing, shrugging off his coat as his eyes land on Oda and Dazai and he sends Mizuha a knowing look as he moves past her, grumbling that she can take a break now.

Sakunosuke spares him a quiet nod and Akihiko sighs.

“It won’t hurt you to not look like you want to kill someone, Oda-kun.” He deadpans.

Sakunosuke frowns, brows pulling together in confusion. “But I don’t want to kill someone?”

Akihiko rolls his eyes, turning away to fiddle around the drawers for his apron.

"That's Akihiko," She introduces since Dazai's eyes go round when he notices Akihiko's attire. She can’t blame Dazai- the ‘I’m with stupid’ writing on his shirt with a hand that points to his right- where Mizuha stands conveniently is certainly a sight. “He's grumpy, emo, and a total pain in the ass."

“You say that as if that’s an insult, darling.” Akihiko drawls as he ties his apron, nodding at her cousin and Dazai in greeting before turning to her. “We both know who brings in the customers.”

“Sure,” Mizuha rolls her eyes. “It’s the tall pretty boy who wears too much eyeliner and has a filthy mouth.”

Akihiko stops, looking down at her with a hand on his chin as he hums mockingly. “Hm, you’re getting even worse at your comebacks. Didn’t think it was possible. Well done.”

Mizuha makes an expressive face that would have made Aiko-san gasp and then smack her head silly. A devilish yet lazed grin stretches on Akihiko’s face as he leans back against the counter.

“Now, now, kid. I know I’m handsome, but you’re too young for me.”

Mizuha punches his arm for that.

“Oh my, I’m being abused.” Akihiko deadpans as he holds his arm. Dazai is stifling laughter at this point and her cousin seems to have taken it all in stride, all too used to their shenanigans. “You should really work on your flirting though, kid. Physical harm isn’t a viable option.”

“You’d know,” Mizuha looks at him. “Should I remind you of Ango?”

A hand lands on her head, pushing it down and ruffling it and Mizuha hides her smile. “That’s quite enough from you, brat. Go flirt with your boyfriend or something.”

“Go away, Akihiko.”

“Yes, yes.” Akihiko rolls his eyes, raising his hands placatingly as he steps back. “I’ll be the good employee and actually work.”

“Hah! Says the one who’s been missing for well over an hour. You sure you were just taking Maria-chan home?”

“Well,” Akihiko gives her a lazy grin. “Might’ve stopped for a smoke. Or two. Or five.”

Mizuha wrinkles her nose. “You’re disgusting.”

“You wish, darling.”

Mizuha turns back to an impassive Sakunosuke, who looks like he needs more coffee to function with all of the disasters around him, and Dazai who has stars in his eyes. The teenager has been chuckling for a while now at Mizuha and Akihiko's banter, cackling outright at Akihiko's last statement. Mizuha feels a smile spread across her face.

He seems to be genuinely enjoying himself.

“Glad to see you’re having fun at my expense.” She huffs, a mock annoyance on her face as she folds her arms. Dazai looks up at her and Mizuha feels herself falter.

 He smiles.

"I have a feeling I would've laughed either way," He says breathlessly. "You do have a problem with accidentally complimenting people you're trying to annoy, though."

Mizuha frowns. “Hey!”

Dazai laughs at her reaction, and it’s beautiful; so much so that even Sakunosuke turns to look at him in confusion and surprise. Akihiko raises his eyebrows, nudging Mizuha with his hip slightly, both hands holding plates of cake. “You got a good catch there, brat. Hot damn.”

Mizuha pinches him for that.

But she can't deny it. Dazai's laughter is breathy as if he isn't quite used to it yet and it's still quite new to him. It's infectious, especially when one realizes just how rare it is and Mizuha can feel a smile tugging at the ends of her mouth.

Sakunosuke is still staring at her but Mizuha ignores it, as she grins.

His laughter-Dazai’s laughter is beautiful.

It takes him some time to calm down, not that Mizuha is any better but once he does, the smile still stays on his face. It's unlike before when he'd smile or reveal any part of his true personality, realize and then promptly hide away.

She knows it'll fade away, this sincere expression, this genuine happiness, but it's enough for her right now. This smile is enough for her because it means there's still hope.

This smile is what Mizuha will remind herself of when she’ll see Dazai- in both the moments where he’s spiraling downwards and, in the moments, when he’s soaring high. Because this is why she is still reaching out. This is the real reason she’s still doing this.

This smile is worth more than the world.

They talk for a while, joking and teasing each other, and somewhere along the way even her stoic cousin softens. So, when Dazai’s phone rings and his face falls slightly when he sees the name, Mizuha knows all good things must come to an end.

“Work?” She guesses and Dazai sends her a small smile as he nods. She still has no idea why Dazai is working at the same place Sakunosuke is- he might be a temporary intern or something, but it’s still odd. Sakunosuke sends her a warning look and Mizuha bites down her question.

Dazai talks for a few seconds on the phone and Mizuha can see him frown before he ends it, sighing slightly.

"I'll have to excuse myself, Mizuha-chan." He says apologetically, standing up from the barstool he's been sitting at for the past few hours. The café had been closed for the day an hour ago, but Sakunosuke and Dazai stayed nevertheless and Mizuha and Akihiko cleaned up. “I’ve been saddled with some work.”

“I won’t stop you,” Mizuha shakes her head, smiling a little. “I had a great time.”

Dazai’s face splits in a genuine smile, easing the frown immensely. “I agree.”

 “And that cheesecake was absolutely divine, Akihiko-san." He adds, and Akihiko raises his hand in a half-wave in acknowledgment. "I must simply have more, so save some for me for next time!"

Mizuha smiles at the last part. It seems Aiko-san’s dream is coming true.

“We’ll be waiting for you,” She says genuinely and Dazai stops, gazing down at her before smiling.

“You’ve got it!”

Her cousin excuses himself alongside Dazai, saying it's getting late and he wants to check in on the children he's supporting before he turns in for the night. The man ruffles Mizuha's hair in farewell, promising to bring the children to visit next time around.

He pauses before he leaves though, eyes resting on the sign above the doors reading Au Revoir Café in large elegant writing.

“What does it mean?” He asks her.

"Till we meet again," Mizuha says carefully. She knows he's worried for her. It's understandable, but Mizuha knows she won't be budging anytime soon which is bound to give him some grief. Her smile fades slightly at the thought, only for her eyes to widen at Sakunosuke's next words.

 Oda smiles at her. “It’s a fitting name.”

Mizuha watches her cousin as he walks away, surprised by his statement when Dazai bumps into her on his way out of the cafe. She turns back, steadying the taller, and looks up at him.

“Careful.” She tells him, hands still on his arms.

"Right," Dazai says with wide eyes once, twice before straightening. “Right.”

Mizuha tilts her head. “Right?”

“Right,” Dazai is smiling and Mizuha can hear Akihiko mock-gagging in the background. She resolves to give him a good elbow in the side later. Yeah, later, definitely not now, not with how Dazai’s smiling. “I’ll see you later then?”

Mizuha softens, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Dazai stops at her words, wide eyes gazing down at her, his expression unreadable. Mizuha maintains her smile, waiting for him to respond. And he does, eyes softening and a small smile spreading across his face. It's hardly anything like the one from before, the one that shone like the sun, but it's there.

It’s small and subtle and Mizuha can tell he’s slowly pushing his walls back up, but it’s enough.

His hand rises hesitantly reaching up to push a lock of her hair away and Mizuha freezes. Dazai holds her gaze for a second, something incredibly intense shining in his eyes and Mizuha can only stare right back before he ducks his head in a shallow bow and turns on his heel to chase after Sakunosuke. He is still smiling. Mizuha watches the pair until they turn round a corner and disappear.

She feels Akihiko step up beside her. He looks visibly impressed as he places one hand on his hip, tilting his head, and whistles loudly.

“Hot damn.”

And Mizuha can’t help but agree, her face hot.

Chapter Text

 

"Midnight into morning coffee
Burning through the hours talking

Damn, I like me better when I'm with you
I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause
I like me better when I'm with you."

                                                 --I Like Me Better; Lauv

Akihiko Suoh is an angel.

And if Dazai wasn't as straight as a beanpole, he might just have asked the man to marry him the moment Dazai takes his first bite of an absolutely heavenly German Chocolate Cake. And Akihiko says it's still in a testing phase. Fuck it, let Oda be his ring bearer- Dazai is marrying the man.

That's not weird, is it though? Right? Right?

There are those things called platonic marriages, right? The type between friends and such for convenience? Convenience marriages? Dazai doesn't need to be bisexual, does he?

But isn't there someone else who's more…appealing?

Dazai tries his best to push the image of familiar midnight-colored eyes out of his mind. The teenager resists the urge to groan as the flavors of the decadent cake are countered with a shot of expresso Mizuha conveniently placed next to him as soon as his eyes locked onto the cake Akihiko had been preparing.

"Akihiko-san, marry me." Dazai moans.

"I'm flattered," Comes a dry reply. Dazai can't really fault him- he has been pestering the man for the last week or so. "But no thanks. I'd rather impale myself on an angled spatula."

"…A what?"

Akihiko's face twists in disgust and the man folds his arms. "An uncultured man, I see."

"I have money!" Dazai protests.

"I don't need no sugar daddy, kid. If anything, I'll be the sugar daddy."

"But you are!" Dazai insists vehemently, trying his best to ignore how midnight-colored eyes watch them in amusement. "You're a sugar daddy! You give me sugar in the form of cake! That has no price!"

There is a beat of silence between them, in which Akihiko looks like Dazai has just crossed a new level of dumbassery. He looks like he barely wishes to believe it, except the evidence is in front of his eyes and this is Dazai - and he sighs in resignation.

"Look kid, I'm flattered that you think I'm the best thing since sliced bread," Akihiko huffs in exasperation. "But I'm not marrying you."

"Whyyyy?" Dazai whines, unable to help himself.

Akihiko raises an eyebrow.

"Well for one, you're too young for me. And," He lists before a shit-eating grin crosses his face. Mizuha chokes on her coffee as he says his next words. "I won't be able to embarrass you two on your wedding day."

Mizuha recovers quickly though, frowning at Akihiko. Meanwhile, Dazai finds himself frozen at the implications. "We're not getting married, Akihiko-kun."

Akihiko rolls his eyes.

"Forgive me," He drawls. "Should've known you were the eloping kind."

Eloping? Mizuha's into eloping?

Mizuha visibly grimaces as her eyes catch a glance at Dazai who nearly drops his fork at Akihiko's latest statement. "Look what you're doing! You're putting weird thoughts into his brain!"

"Oh, I bet he has weirder thoughts," Akihiko snorts, turning away to finish an order as he mutters the rest in a lower voice. "About you definitely."

"What?" Mizuha asks at the same time Dazai recovers and shouts out a devastating "You're the only one for me, Akihiko-san!"

"Nothing," Akihiko rolls his eyes, looking completely and utterly done. "And you know what? You are going to keep him away from me since this is all your fault in the first place."

"Wha-? Why-"

Dazai watches the two bicker with amusement.

He's been visiting Au Revoir regularly for the better part of the past week or so, making good on his promise to Mizuha. He's noticed how it's been slowly driving Chuuya insane, but Dazai really doesn't care- he can tease the ginger later.

The quaint café offers Dazai a sense of peace he's never really known before- except in those brief moments before he steps off a ledge or brings a knife close to his arm. It's odd for him since he's used to adrenaline and blood and dirt- but there's none here, except for Akihiko's periodic cursing which is perfectly fine since Dazai is more than used to Chuuya's filthy mouth.

How the slug has such expensive taste and yet a sailor's mouth, Dazai doesn't know.

He doesn't want to know either.

His constant presence at Au Revoir has been slowly driving Akihiko insane, to which Dazai has the front row seat and it would be admittedly amusing to rile the man up if it isn't for the fact that Dazai is a hundred percent serious with his proposal.

Well, maybe not a hundred percent.

Ten percent, more likely.

It's not his fault- it's Mori's actually, because why give Dazai an expensive apartment when he can just get him a great pâtissier like Akihiko?

The teenager forks another piece of delectable cake into his mouth and resists the urge to melt where he sits. This cake alone is more than enough reason to continue living- especially if Akihiko can tempt him a new one every day.

"-He's been three times already this week and it's just Thursday."

Dazai hums. The plan had been to visit on Tuesday too, but Akutagawa just had to be useless, which meant Dazai had to go around cleaning up the idiot's mess for him. Not for the first time, Dazai wonders why he's taken in the boy at all.

You know why, Osamu.

The voice in his brain is pretty annoying but Dazai's gotten pretty good at blocking it all. It's just that it's coming out more recently- maybe it's because of the atmosphere of Au Revoir. Dazai wishes to deny it, but it'll futile, but he instinctively feels his shoulders relax each time he enters the coffee shop and meets Mizuha's warm gaze.

Mizuha.

The brunette brings his eyes up to gaze at the maroon-haired girl. His savior has been utterly charming during their meetings and always leaves Dazai wondering if being so charismatic is her Ability for if it is then Dazai wouldn't be surprised one bit.

Except it's not and Dazai knows that for a fact.

It wasn't on purpose- which is a lot saying for Dazai who loves to orchestrate convenient accidents- but it was a very welcome one, for Dazai got to see the sight of an adorably flushed Mizuha when she tripped over the cat (they have a cat?) and landed straight into Dazai's unsuspecting arms.

His poor, poor arms.

In hindsight, he should probably take up Chibi's reluctant offer to train him. The guy was tiny, but he sure packed a punch.

He'd never admit it, but the peculiar scent of lavender and mint, wide midnight eyes gazing up at him and a physical warmth he'd never really known; all of it had had Dazai freezing up and something alien rise within him. Suddenly he'd been hyper-aware of everything; of how his hands rested around her hips, of how her body pressed into his, and how her breath fanned his neck.

He'd turned red.

It was only until Akihiko who'd been staring at them impassively for the last few minutes spoke up that Dazai snaps out of his thoughts, and gently pushes Mizuha back up with his chest tightening as he lets go of the redhead's waist.

Then Mizuha would smile up at him as if nothing just happened and not a hint of awkwardness in her expression and thank him for catching her. Good, Dazai was thanking himself too.

And he'd realize, gawking down at the literal embodiment of the sun, that her charisma had not been affected one bit after him accidentally nullifying it. So, this…all of this was natural.

Dazai had turned red again.

His obsession is probably getting out of control, he'll admit. He should pull away and stay away from the intimate coffee shop until he gets ahold of his traitorous emotions. They'd never shown up in all his seventeen cursed years of existence so why now?

He should distance himself from this place, from this atmosphere, from this person. The same person who was probably capable of disarming Dazai with a simple smile.

It's dangerous.

"…Zai-kun…" Dazai snaps up at the familiar voice. "…Dazai-kun?"

"Yes, mon chéri?" Dazai blurts out in his surprise, eyes widening as he registers the words. Mizuha tilts her head in confusion and Dazai knows she doesn't know French by that reaction alone but he sees the way Akihiko chokes on his water and Dazai knows the raven knows.

Is it too late to kill myself? Spatula, did Akihiko say? I'll impale myself with-.

"Dazai-kun?" Mizuha looks even more confused, if possible. "Are you alright?"

"Um, yes- of course, why not- definitely- sure, yup."

"Okay…" Mizuha frowns slightly.

"Oh my god," Akihiko legitimately looks horrified. "You two are disgusting. Get out of my coffee shop."

"Wha-?" Mizuha's frown is even more pronounced now. "What are you talking about, Akihiko-!"

"-Nope," Akihiko cuts in, stalking over to the pair of them. "This is too much for me- too disgustingly sweet. I don't have this much resistance. Go away."

"-What? Akihiko!" Mizuha gasps as Akihiko magically materializes behind her with a coat and beret, which he proceeds to dump on Mizuha's head. Akihiko isn't having any arguments though, and five minutes later Dazai finds himself standing outside Au Revoir blinking slowly and he isn't quite sure what just happened.

Mizuha seems to be in the same predicament as him and they both turn back to look at Akihiko who has both hands on his hips and is giving them a glare that has a remarkable resemblance to hungover Chuuya. It's the get-the-fuck-out-of-here-before-I-kill-you-and-don't-you-dare-show-your-face-before-I-say-so face.

"Get it out of your system." Akihiko scowls. "I don't have enough brain cells to watch you two make eyes at each other all day."

"We do not make eyes-"

"Sure, you don't," Akihiko rolls his eyes, turning on his heels and stalking back inside. He raises a casual hand in farewell. "Be sure to use protection or the old hag will murder me in my sleep."

Ah.

Dazai's eyes widen. So that's what he meant.

Protection, huh.

He sneaks in a look at Mizuha because he's a little shit and he knows it, and to be honest he's curious about Mizuha's reaction since she's been the one warding off Akihiko's comments since the beginning.

She definitely doesn't disappoint.

For the first time in his cursed life, Osamu Dazai is treated to a scene that thoroughly satisfies him that isn't full of blood, death, and hellish screaming. It's the reddened cheeks of one Mizuha Hagane, whose face is as red as her hair by now and is openly gawking at Akihiko's retreating back.

She looks completely and utterly scandalized.

Dazai can't help the chuckle and Mizuha turns to him, giving him an equally appalled glance. He doesn't miss how her blush deepens when her eyes meet his.

Dazai allows a smooth, borderline cheeky smile to spread across his face as he raises his arm. "Shall we, mademoiselle?"

Oh, he's going to make full use of this opportunity.

"Daz-Dazai-kun…" Mizuha stammers and Dazai waits for her to recover, looking down at her in bemusement. She's remarkably quick about it, as always and Dazai watches as she sulks darkly. "Akihiko, that man, I swear I'm going to…"

Dazai smiles.

"Why don't we get revenge then?" He offers and Mizuha looks up instantly. He feels a foreign pressure twist within his chest when Mizuha beams. He's been getting more and more of these over the last fortnight or so, and if Dazai was dumber he'd have gone to a doctor to get himself checked. But he's not stupid and he knows what this means. "Having fun is more than enough, no? And maybe we can pick up…a gift on our way back."

This girl is making him feel more than he has in his entire life, and that's saying something.

"Dazai-kun," Mizuha breathes, stars in her eyes and Dazai struggles to not get lost in them. "You, sir, are amazing."

Dazai gives her a cocky smile before he extends his arm which Mizuha takes cheerfully this time and they're off. It almost unbelievable how the awkwardness bleeds away between them- it's never been an issue between them and it shows in the way Mizuha smiles up at him kindly.

The warmth of Mizuha's hand seeps effortlessly through the bandages on his arm. Dazai tries to not shiver, for the touch is foreign and strange but somehow incredibly comforting and grounding.

He's known for a long time he's touch-starved, but never so bad.

Mizuha Hagane is like the sun.

But not in the way one would expect. Sure, she's bright and energetic, but Dazai is now slowly realizing another side of her personality and he's sure that if he doesn't have to ward off random people every few minutes or so, he'd have definitely liked it more.

Mizuha is magnetic.

And that, unfortunately, translates to staring passersby, annoying children asking her to play with them, and random people selling their sales pitch to her. And if only Mizuha was any less engaging, for she meets and stops to talk to each and every person who approaches her.

Then there are the perverts, but one infamous death glare has them all scampering.

Dazai sighs. Mizuha is too eye-catching for her own good. What was Akihiko even thinking, letting her go out like this?

"Dazai-kun?" Mizuha appears in his line of vision. She's smiling lightly, though the boy can trace the hints of apology on her lips. "Why don't we walk along the coastline?"

"At this time?" Dazai jokes, but he's inwardly relieved. Less pesky people to interrupt their time. "Are you trying to murder me in a deserted place, mademoiselle?"

Mizuha rolls her eyes.

"You wish," She snorts. "I heard it's less crowded after sunset."

"True." Dazai nods consideringly. He'd know, for he's been scouting the place out for a suicide spot for a while now. No nosy people to bother him with his private business. Although, this probably isn't appropriate to say that out loud to Mizuha. "Why don't we grab dinner first and then go after?"

"My, Mister Dazai," Mizuha laughs. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Dazai schools his face into something more wounded, a hand rising to touch his heart. There's something brimming within his chest, right where he touches it- it's strange and foreign and yet for some strange reason, he doesn't mind.

"Are you telling me you haven't realized until now?"

Mizuha takes one look at him, at the hand on what is supposed to be on his heart but is on the opposite side and bursts into giggles. Dazai isn't any better, grinning down at her and his stomach is jittery as she gives him a gentle smile and nods.

"Let's go get dinner, Dazai-kun."

Dazai pulls her into the first ramen shop he recognizes- one Odasaku himself recommended. Well, no better time to try than now. Plus, if Dazai is going to keep up the appearance of the broke-and-definitely-not-a-rich-mafia-executive persona, he'll have to deal with this, even though he would be happier taking her to the more expensive restaurant across the street.

Mizuha doesn't seem to care though, looking around with mild fascination. Dazai knows the girl loves ramen- Akihiko has griped about it more times than Dazai cares to count- which is the main reason he settles for this humble ramen shop.

They place their orders and chat while they wait for their food. It's then that Dazai fully relaxes- well as much as he can- and is able to fully focus on Mizuha without Akihiko's meddling. He takes the time to take her in.

She's dressed in a white blouse that is tucked neatly into black ripped jeans, the khaki long coat Akihiko had forced her resting over it and complimenting it nicely. On top of it all, she wears a black beret matching her jeans.

She looks pretty.

Dazai spies the smattering of freckles across her nose out of the corner of his eye. They're not very visible, even with her fair skin, but just enough that Dazai can count them if he tries hard enough. He probably shouldn't- it would be creepy.

"Do you come here often?"

"First time actually," Dazai replies smoothly. "Odasaku recommended it to me and I've been intending to come by."

Lie.

As if Dazai would willingly come to ramen shop when there's an amazing seafood restaurant next door. Mizuha's smile turns amused.

"Why do I feel like you're lying?" She asks, slightly smiling.

Dazai gasps in mock-offense. "Are you accusing me?"

"Yes, I'm accusing you, Dazai-kun."

It's kind of interesting though- not many are able to detect his lies and especially not a random civilian. Is Dazai losing his touch?

But she's not some random civilian, is she?

Oh, there's the annoying voice again. Well duh, Dazai wants to say. She's his friend, after all.

Then again, even Oda has trouble telling apart his lies.

"I…might like the crab next door much better?" Dazai confesses sheepishly. No need to hide from Mizuha, she's hardly dangerous. Mizuha smiles.

"I knew it." She leans back, a victorious smile stretching over her face, and Dazai has to hide his shock. He doesn't do a good job of it, however. "You kept looking there over and over again."

"What?" Dazai says bewildered and Mizuha's smile widens.

"You're not that hard to read, Dazai-kun." The maroon-haired girl hums. "Next time just tell me; we'll go there."

"But you like ramen, don't you?" Dazai asks, nonplussed.

"But you like crab, don't you?" Mizuha shoots back, eyes twinkling.

Dazai feels a grin stretch across his face at her words. Mizuha Hagane never fails to surprise him. It is…refreshing. It's something incredibly vibrant and colorful in his monotone and grey world. If she sticks long enough by Dazai's side, would his world gradually turn colorful too?

It's worth a try, right?

"I do," He agrees. "Let's go there next time, Mizuha-chan."

He doesn't question the 'next time' that slips from his lips, as if they'll have another outing together alone. She doesn't dwell on it either, smiling lightly and Dazai feels something flutter in his chest. It doesn't take him long to figure it out.

It seems like he's emoting.

To an extent at least.

Their food arrives and Dazai has to admit, the ramen is pretty good. Maybe it's the company- he spares a glance at Mizuha is busy tearing into the food- maybe it's the peaceful ambiance or the fact that his heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.

He'd been comforted that night, the night he met Mizuha for the first time, but it's nowhere near where he's now. Mizuha's presence is a constant comfort by his side and he now finds himself instinctively walking in the direction of Au Revoir after a particularly bad day more often than not, when usually he'd have just sulked home.

Akihiko may groan, but he's the first to move to plate a slice of cake as soon as he sees him. The cat they're raising may hate Dazai now, but he's been growing onto her and she lets him pet her sometimes.

And Mizuha.

Mizuha who, without fail is there to greet him with a warm smile that melts away all of Dazai's tension at a glance every time. Mizuha, who takes him by hand and pushes him to a chair, and talks to him for as long as he needs. Mizuha, who is his friend.

Mizuha is his friend, so why does his heartache?

You liar.

You want more, don't you?

In all actuality, Dazai's known it for a long time.

He's bound to fall for the person who's made him feel emotions other than dark amusement and anger for the first time in his life. He's smiling and laughing more genuinely in these past few weeks than he ever has in years. All because a small hand had pulled him back that fateful day.

He wonders if he had actually jumped that day- if Mizuha hadn't managed to catch him time. Would he have ever known this satisfaction, this contentment, this camaraderie?

It is a jarring thought- one that exists nowhere near a…ahem…date.

(_)(_)(_)(_)

Mizuha ends up taking his hand as they stroll out of the ramen shop.

The crowd outside is relentless, which makes zero sense for a weekday night but Dazai isn't all that bothered as Mizuha leads him away by the hand. All he can focus on is on the area where their hands join; the warmth of her touch and her twinkling eyes and that turn around to glance back at him every now and then.

Maybe Akihiko did have a point.

"We're here!"

Mizuha brightens as they come to a stop at the shore path, the ocean gleaming under the light of the moon. She turns back towards him and gives him a slight grin, tucking her hair behind her ear with a single finger and Dazai forgets how to breathe.

She's always been pretty, but there's something about tonight- about the way the moonlight casts over her shoulders that makes Dazai stop in his tracks. It's strange, he's never felt this grounded in his entire life- if anything, the closest he's ever felt to it is in the presence of Ango and Odasaku when they drink at Bar Lupin.

It's strange; the way Mizuha's hand slots perfectly into his own, the way their shoulders nudge each other's ever so often as they walk, the way the weather is icy, and yet Dazai can barely feel it with the warmth of Mizuha's touch.

It's exhilarating.

It's intoxicating- the rush of this feeling, the sheer lightness in his chest, and Dazai revels in it. He's bouncing on his heels and he knows it's silly but when Mizuha's tinkling laugh reaches him, he finds he can barely care.

Somehow, for some odd reason, whenever he's by her side, he feels strangely free.

The heavyweight in his chest disappears and for a moment, Dazai is not Osamu Dazai, the demon prodigy of the Port Mafia- he's just Mizuha's Dazai-kun. He finds he doesn't mind.

He's Dazai-kun, who eats Akihiko's creations like a starved man. He's Dazai-kun, who plays with and teases the house cat with little treats he buys for her over since he found out about her. He's Dazai-kun, who laughs and jokes and bickers with the two baristas of Café Au Revoir like they've known each other forever.

In those moments, he doesn't worry- he doesn't care about the fact that he'll have to leave eventually, the fact he'll have to return to his dreary apartment later, the fact that he'll have to stain his hands with blood sooner or later.

Dare he say it, he's happy.

"Dazai-kun? You still there?" Mizuha's amused voice jolts him out of thoughts and he can't help but return her smile. It is strange- the fact that she can make his smile so easily- he'll be the first one to admit that, but Dazai doesn't mind, he never has and he never will.

"Osamu Dazai at your service, ma'am." He responds playfully, meaningfully. And he means it, he does.

And that makes the world's difference for not once in his life has Osamu Dazai truly meant something. His desires and his wants are all shrouded in thick layers of sarcasm, manipulation, and iciness. He's never been able to truly emote, for he's never been allowed to by some strange unsaid force he still doesn't understand.

But Mizuha is different, Au Revoir is different.

In the moments he's there, Dazai feels like a changed man- one that is unrestrained by the chains of the darkness inside him. There, for a moment, he can forget that he's one of the most feared men in Yokohama, he can forget that there are times his hands are stained so red in the blood that he can't get the color off properly, he can forget he has tortured dozens if not hundreds.

He can forget, and he can throw off his façade fearlessly for there's no one in Au Revoir, in his, in their special place that would condemn him for revealing his true self.

And, if she's- Mizuha's going to be with him where ever he goes, he has a feeling even the Headquarters of the Port Mafia can feel like home.

"It's so peaceful here," Mizuha smiles, and Dazai agrees with her. There's an odd sort of tranquility and serenity laden across the scenery. The calm rush of the ocean waves, the gentle breeze, and the shining stars all make for a very pleasant experience. "With the rainy season, there are hardly many clear nights out nowadays."

"Yeah," Dazai raises his head to gaze at the starry sky. They're still walking together, although at a much slower pace. "Imagine having a barbeque here. We should do that sometime. If the rain allows it, of course."

Mizuha chuckles. "I'm sure we could work something out. Besides, a gathering like that sounds really good."

"I know, right?"

"Though, finding a place would be hard." Mizuha wonders. "This isn't exactly the sort of place to settle down."

"What do you mean?" Dazai asks her, though he already has an idea. The coastline isn't exactly the sort of place where anyone can have a picnic. Sure, they can go to the beach, but that's asking for a disaster if they go in the middle of the night in winter of all seasons.

Though, if he really needs to, he knows he can work something out.

He usually doesn't care for it, but being an Executive in the Port Mafia has its perks.

"I'm not sure if we can have a picnic here." Mizuha frowns.

"Why would we have it here?" Dazai snorts. "My- ahem family has a place further up the coast. We could have it there."

The word, family leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but Dazai pushes it away to focus on Mizuha who looks a little hesitant at his offer.

"Really? We wouldn't want to impose."

"It's not imposing if it's friends coming over," Dazai insists, feeling something warm in his chest when he says the word. Friends. He's got friends other than Odasaku now, doesn't he? "Besides, we don't use it anyways. It's just a glorified vacation home."

All of a sudden, Chibi's love for friendship and camaraderie makes sense.

Mizuha chuckles at his words.

"A vacation home in Yokohama?" She says, amused. "One would think they'd go somewhere other than their city to have a vacation."

Dazai shrugs helplessly, even as a mischievous grin stretches across his face. "What can I do, Mizuha-chan? I'm just a poor, devilishly handsome child whose family is utterly crazy."

"I don't think you should put 'devilishly handsome' and 'child' together, Dazai-kun."

"Look, now my own friends' turned against me! I'm such a pitiful thing."

"Hardy-har-har," Mizuha rolls her eyes, walking faster. Dazai grins as he catches up to her, hands reaching up to knot behind his head casualty. There's a beat of silence between them, peaceful as always before-

"Say, got any ideas on how to get back at Akihiko?" Mizuha asks him, eyes twinkling.

A mischievous smile spreads across his lips at her words- and Dazai may be a demon, he may be an Executive, but he's still a teenager- he's still a teenager that's petty and snarky and chaotic and he adores pranks.

"There's a supply shop a few blocks away," He tells her, eyes gleaming. "Why don't we head there?"

Mizuha laughs at the devilish grin on his face and takes his offered arm without any hesitation. "On your lead!"

They stalk through the streets quickly, because it's getting late and Dazai has seen Mizuha yawn a few times when she thinks he isn't looking. It's a little endearing that she doesn't want to return home and wishes to spend more time with him. Still, sleep is important and Dazai really doesn't wish to see the dark bags under her eyes grow deeper.

He knows she's been resting up for the past few days- she's a student which Dazai has a feeling does her no wonders. But her eyes twinkle each time she talks about her major, about her dream job so Dazai really can begrudge her. If anything, it's absurdly cute.

They enter the shop and make a beeline for the supplies. Mizuha watches him as he squats down on the lowest shelf in one of the aisles to fiddle around for what he's looking for. He hopes they have it, for otherwise they'd have to go to the other side of town and with the way Mizuha is yawning, he knows she doesn't have that much stamina or energy.

His fingers wander about aimlessly, before touching a very familiar box.

The devilish grin on his face widens as he pulls it out, eyes gleaming as Mizuha leans over his shoulder to glance at it curiously. She takes one look at it and breaks into laughter.

"Really?" She chuckles, wiping her tears. "That's absurdly simple."

Dazai grins, making Mizuha stiffen a little before she returns his grin with equal fervor. "It's the simplest ones that have the most impact, Mizuha-chan."

"You, sir, are a dangerous man."

Boy, she has no idea. Dazai thinks, amused.

The next morning, one Akihiko Suoh steps into the bathroom connected to his room above Au Revoir, blissfully unaware of what going to come next. He's in a good mood, which is rare since he loathes waking up early in the morning and it shows with the way he's whistling as he steps into the shower. The water is hot over his skin, just how he likes it.

To be honest, the majority of the reason he stays over at Au Revoir so often instead of at home is for the hot water here alone. It's heavenly. What can he do? It's cold in winter and the hot water here is amazing and doesn't run out quickly. He's a selfish man.

He reaches out for the shampoo, barely paying attention to how the color is slightly darker than normal as he dumps a healthy amount over his head. He lathers it for a bit, before pulling his fingers down to-

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

A very loud shriek echoes through the building and Mizuha smiles into her tea downstairs, sharing a knowing look with Dazai, who'd stayed over the night and is currently tearing into a stack of generously dressed pancakes.

Half an hour later, a furious Akihiko descends down from the stairs, mouth grit into an unamused frown and his long hair a shockingly bright mess of pink.

"Very funny." He hisses at Mizuha and Dazai, who both break into laughter at his expense "I'm going to kill you both."

"Try me, Pinkie Pie."

Akihiko flips them off, darkly mumbling about revenge and vengeance as he disappears into the kitchen. As soon as he's out of sight, Mizuha turns to Dazai, barely holding in her chuckles.

"You didn't tell me it would be that bright!" She barely breathes out between stifled laughs.

Dazai grins at her chaotically. "That's just the tip of the iceberg. It only brightens more with hot water!"

"Osamu Dazai, you devil."

Chapter Text

" Isn't it lovely, all alone,
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone,
Tear me to pieces, skin to bone,
Hello, welcome home."

                              --lovely: Billie Eilish.

Just like the good days, there are the bad. 

It’s kind of poetic how the bad days are more common than the good ones. It just reinforces the notion that Dazai is flawed--unnatural, inhuman.  On the good days, Dazai visits Mizuha, teases Chuuya, and feels less suffocated by the bandages wrapped around his body. 

On the bad, he stares into the distance as he does now, he takes a step back and he wonders.

Why the hell is he even here?

Why the hell does he even bother?

It’s on days like these that the pain doesn’t matter anymore- the method doesn’t matter anymore- Dazai just wishes to be gone. 

Just wishes to not exist anymore, regardless of the method- just wishes to be in limbo. Because anything, anything is better than opening his eyes every morning and forcing his body to continue forward despite all his usual instincts muted and dull.

 It’s on those days where he’s most dangerous- a liability to not just himself but also the people around him. On those days it doesn’t matter if the knife will hurt, Dazai will lunge for it nevertheless. On those days it doesn’t matter his callous actions will cost the Port Mafia more than gained. On those days, Dazai finds he cares not one bit for anyone- everyone.

In fact, he finds he loathes them. 

He loathes them for fearing death, fearing getting hurt, worrying about insignificant little details, and loving so fearlessly. He hates them for being everything he isn’t– he hates Chuuya for his staunch loyalty, he hates Koyou for her subtle kindness, he hates Akutagawa for his stubborn steadfastness. 

He hates them for being more human than he’ll ever be. 

It’s laughable really, how even his Ability is an anomaly; an anti-Gift– something never meant to exist– just like him. No Longer Human, it’s called– as if mocking Dazai and driving it home that yes, Dazai had once been human, a long time ago– but it’s laughable to even consider it anymore. 

It mocks him for losing something he had never realized he had in the first place. 

And he hates himself even more.

His second skin of white and patches constricts around him, weighing down his body like glorified chains and for a brief moment he wants it all to end– he wishes to rip those bandages off his body and burn them to ashes. 

And yet he knows he can’t do that- for his sake, and the sake of the people around him. 

Has he mentioned how much he hates himself?

Chuuya had asked him about them once; panting and red-faced in the aftermath of a failed suicide attempt, sleeping pills surrounding them on the floor of the bathroom. Dazai had been displeased, utterly repulsed when Chuuya had the audacity to ask him that when he’d just sentenced Dazai to continued existence in this worthless life. 

“Why do wear those bandages?”

But there had been something utterly jarring about the way Chuuya asked him that. Perhaps it had been the complete and utter defeat on Chuuya’s expression, or it was the quietness of his voice. 

There had been something utterly disturbing about it. 

The question, at face value, was almost foolish, and yet it spoke volumes. And yet, from the way he gazed at Dazai, with those strange, strange, disturbed eyes to the way his voice shook like fragile glass at the end. And there had been so much loaded into that question.

Why do you wish to die? Why do you think death is the only way? Why do you hide?

Why do you– even you, wish to leave me behind?

Dazai had found he never wanted to see the vivacious ginger look like that ever again. 

And somehow, somehow the words spilled from his parted lips like foam would’ve if he’d timed the attempt right; if he had been quicker— if he hadn’t been interrupted—

If—

—If Chuuya hadn’t found him. 

He’d stared straight into Chuuya’s blue eyes which looked murky like ocean water during a storm, dark and helpless, and he’d spoken.

“To remind myself of what I need to do; what needs to be done no matter how many times I’ll be interrupted.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize exactly what it was that Dazai needed to do.

Chuuya wasn’t his partner— his other half for nothing, and widened eyes had dropped down to the bottle of pills in his hand. If Dazai hadn’t been utterly consumed in his rage and his irritation— he might have just noticed how utterly devastated Chuuya looked. 

After that night, Chuuya never looked at him the same way again. 

But that was a story— an anecdote for another time, for all of his useless memories mattered little now. He still had to wake up every day, to get up and dress for yet another mission that could be easily handled by anyone with half a brain cell. 

But it isn’t as bad now as it was back then. 

Back then, Dazai had only known Mori and the storm that was Chuuya— neither of which he was able to get along with. Mori, who only looked forward— who only spared any thought for his goals, invertedly neglecting those reaching out for him. Chuuya cared too much, so Dazai had to drive it into him again and again that they would never be able to look each other in the eyes with something other than anger, hatred, and irritation. 

That was how it should be. 

That was how it would be. Dazai would make sure of it.

After all, it was people like Chuuya— too trusting, too open, and too caring, that Dazai hated the most. 

( Blue eyes, much darker and shining like the starry sky on a clear night; twinkling and adorned with a light that only remained in stars— in the starry sky. Fickle; dark and stormy one moment and bright and twinkling on the other, and yet utterly resplendent either way .)

His fingers clench around the hilt of his gun— pointed directly down at the ringleader of the trafficking ring he’s supposed to destroy tonight. He can hear Chuuya’s ecstatic cackles in the distance if he strains his ears, though the cracking of the concrete around them speaks well enough. 

“P-Please, I have a wife and children. S-Spare me, please!”

Dazai’s barely paying any attention, and he knows that can prove fatal in these kinds of situations- when he’s in the middle of battle, surrounded by blood and bodies and screams. He doesn’t care at all, too lost in his thoughts to even consider the cowering man in front of him. 

Ah, he wants to die. It’s been so long. 

( Maroon hair that looks like the aftermath of dusk, as if welcoming the darkness— the ugliness of the night with open arms. It should’ve been ugly— it should’ve been repulsive, and yet as they shine under the light of the stars, as the moon bows its head and the sun rises, this maroon looks like the paragon of rebirth— of new beginnings, of willful wishes—

—Of hope.

Ah, how can Dazai not love it? )

He’s too far gone now— too late to notice how a bullet breaks through the barrier of the men around him and grazes his side. He’s too lost in his thoughts to notice— to care about how his side slowly darkens with blood— too far gone to notice how the once cowering man now stands, all traces of his fear wiped clean and exchanged with a smug smirk as he finds himself surrounded with unfamiliar men. 

“Ha! Got you, didn’t I, demon?” He sneers, his voice muddled amongst Dazai’s raging, destructive thoughts. “Did well if I managed to fool you, didn’t I? Has the little bastard been getting soft?”

But that’s a lie, isn’t it?

There’s no one Dazai lies more to than himself.

Contrary to the man’s claims, Dazai’s been paying attention for a while now, as half-hearted as it is. He simply can’t muster the energy to care enough to act. 

He’s already bleeding— he won’t lie— it’s painful and normally he’d never opt for this way of dying, but Dazai cares not for it. Not today, for this means that if he times it out right he can finally say goodbye to this meaningless existence. He wonders how long he’s been like this— jumping into the fray, into the gunfights, and into the interrogations despite having no need to do so with his role as the brains of Double Black. 

He shouldn’t be here at all— he shouldn’t have been anywhere near the battlefield at all, and yet here he is, bleeding and borderline euphoric for he’s losing more and more blood each second and it’s only dragging the elusive angel of death closer to him, kicking and screaming. 

Ah, it’s always been like this hasn’t it?

Dazai’s always wished— in all the moments he had the barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead; against his chest, against his heart, against his body. He’s always wished to have the trigger pulled in time– he’s always wished for it to pierce through him and let it all finally, finally end.

He jumps in each time with the desire to die.

Dark eyes watch as guns cock and point towards him— there’s at least half a dozen and there’s a high probability one of them will land a fatal hit that’ll finally put him out of his misery. If they’re offering, and they’re even going to the lengths to have six different people shoot him at once, how can Dazai deny them?

How can he not accept their gift?

Dazai doesn’t need to do anything here, he just needs to stand and take it. 

It’s on days like these when he doesn’t care about the pain, after all. Opportunities like these rarely come by. 

He takes a step forward. His gun slips from his fingers. He has another hidden on his right side, but he’s not going to draw it anytime soon. Preferably never again. 

Part of him wonders if those midnight eyes would fill up with tears once they receive the news if they’d mourn him if they’d think of him no matter how little time they spent together. 

He takes another step forward. 

Then he waits. 

And achingly dark eyes widen with glee, regain their shine for a reason that is just wrong and a deranged grin splits across his face as the first of the barrage of bullets leave the barrel of the guns. 

His last thought is, as he closes his eyes that— 

Ah, 

He should’ve gone to Au Revoir one last time. 

He should’ve seen those beautiful ocean eyes, that fiery crimson hair one last time. 

Well, he doesn’t have a good memory for nothing.

The day started simply enough, him startling awake after a troubled sleep— Neither Mori nor Chuuya would let him anywhere near the sleeping pills after a certain incident, which meant Dazai had to now deal with sleepless nights. 

It’s not as if Dazai can’t simply procure some more from other sources, but something stops him the first time he enters the pharmacy down the street and opens his mouth to ask for some. He finds he’s too much of a coward to go forwards with it, for he promptly shuts his mouth and retreats much to the chagrin of the employee, and lies to himself. 

Convinces himself that there’s no way the pharmacist would easily hand over powerful sleeping medicine to a young teenager that looked like hell itself, that he probably looked like he was homeless, that it was better to not draw attention to himself. 

It’s hilarious how often he lies to himself. It’s unbelievable— the King of lies, of manipulation and exploitation, would fall deep into the abyss of his own lies. Lying to convince himself, to guard, and to protect himself from a realization that would very well break him. A realization that he’d already reached and yet denied with all his being.

He doesn’t attempt to sneak in some pills again. 

It’s sunny outside by the time he steps out of his apartment— a gaudy, extravagant, and a garish thing that reflected more Chuuya’s tastes than his own;  and it showed the moment one would step inside— the sheer emptiness of the apartment a stark contrast to the flashiness of the outside. But it was still a far cry from the container he used to live in before— though all things considered, Dazai preferred that much more than this flashy dump.

His apartment was stripped bare of anything unnecessary— only the essentials remaining. Chuuya had commented more than often how it looked bare and lifeless; as if it were a prison more than a home, but Dazai found he didn’t mind the minimalism— rather he enjoyed it. 

Less to take in, less to think and worry about.  

A bed was all Dazai needed.

And most of the time, he didn’t need that either.

The moment he opens his eyes that morning, Dazai knows today is going to be a bad day. It sets in his bones strangely, in a way that every inch of his body screams wrong, wrong, wrong-  

So yeah, Dazai knows. 

But he stills pushes himself out of his bed, stumbles into the bathroom, and cups some water onto his face. He still dresses himself, sloppier than normal except for the bandages— the cursed bandages are wrapped around his body perfectly and he still staggers out of his apartment as if nothing’s wrong. 

As if he doesn’t just want to throw himself off the balcony. 

They have an important raid today- a human trafficking ring that had Chuuya’s eyes darken and even Mori’s lip curl. Dazai had been left with orders to make it hurt — to make sure nothing remained of them. Chuuya beside him had seemed all too satisfied with that. 

It was supposed to be simple— for those idiots seemed to have traded brains for sheer repulsiveness. It was supposed to be an easy bust- a let loose and relax kind of a bust. The kind where Dazai would be reminded just why he decided to stick around after the fight with Randou. 

Dare he say it, he was supposed to have fun. 

Which is why it’s so laughable that he’s where he is now, bloodied and staring into the barrel of a gun, elated. 

“Any last words, little demon?” The ringleader smirks cockily as he points down the gun at Dazai’s head. Dazai’s more focused on how his fingers wrap around the handle of the gun, a lone finger resting on the trigger.

One little movement and it would all end. 

Dazai wants to scold the man for teasing him so— for so long. He wants him to get over with his stupid monologue, to finally get it done with. He wants it to end. 

But somehow, for some reason, the shotgun he has hidden on his right side weighs in on him. It’s jarring— it’s distracting and his fingers twitch pathetically. He’s always lied to himself, and yet at this moment what he wants most is to shoot his brains out. 

The man in front of him is only doing him a favor- instead of making Dazai use his own hands. 

So why, why do his fingers ache to touch the shotgun and draw it from its holster? Why does his heart skip a hesitant beat as he looks forward? Why does his bleeding side, ache with clear, pulsing pain ?

Why does he feel so utterly restless?

It’s not like that night, that night that seems so long ago- filled with muddy skies, twinkling eyes, and the warmth of a kind touch. That night, Dazai had felt melancholy, but he’d also felt at peace— he’d been accepting of his fate. 

Why isn’t this like that?

What is this confliction?

Why—

“THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, SHITTY DAZAI?!”

Dazai has barely enough time to look away as a small figure barrels through the wall next to him and tackles him to the side. By the time he’s regained his bearings, Chuuya is on top of him and looking back towards the traffickers with a dark gaze. 

Except, Dazai knows that gaze isn’t for them. 

It’s for him. 

And so are the words Chuuya utters next. 

“Get your damn self together, bastard!” The ginger growls lowly as he pushes himself up. “Go die somewhere where I don’t have to see you, not here!”

That’s all it takes really. 

Chuuya’s always had that talent of making Dazai recoil in disgust; to frown in irritation and actually, truly emote. 

But there’s someone else who can do that as well, aren’t they?

The strange, heavy haze over his mind, cast over his eyes clears and suddenly everything is more vivid, everything is clearer. And suddenly, everything, everything is more real. 

Hey…what the fuck are you doing?

That’s all he needs at that moment. 

He jumps into motion, sitting up as he glares at Chuuya who has his back to him as he faces the traffickers who now look significantly less confident. Trust Chuuya to depict every aspect of a dog- including the intimidation factor. 

Withstanding his mediocre height of course. 

“Nice to see you care so much, slug.” Dazai drawls as he pushes himself to his feet. “Not that I don’t appreciate a dog doing its work.”

“Hah?!” Chuuya growls. “I save your shitty ass and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Yes, yes,” Dazai concedes, dusting off his clothes. “The guard dog is actually doing his job well. What did I expect?”

“You damn bastard— I ought to—”

Dazai perks up, cutting the ginger off. “Oh, look! We have company!”

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “No shit, dumbass.”

A cold smirk spreads across his face as he steps beside Chuuya, eyes hooding. It’s still painfully fake, and he knows Chuuya can tell— really, his instincts really are like a dog’s— judging by how his frown deepens. “Go be a good dog and finish off the job, would you?”

“One of these days, I’m going to kill you.”

Dazai actually snorts at that as he turns to leave. “Get in line, slug.”

He leaves Chuuya like that, facing half a dozen armed men and utterly unworried since this is Chuuya— this is Chuuya who decimates entire organizations in a matter of hours, this is Chuuya who’s been likened more often than not to a war god, this is Chuuya who wields the power of Arahabaki at the tips of his fingers. 

There was never any need to worry. 

Later, after all, is said and done and the sun retreats under the horizon, Chuuya corners him at the compound, face thunderous. 

“Just what the fuck were you doing?” He hisses, one hand clenching the front of Dazai’s shirt. 

“What do you think?” Dazai scoffs, eyes dark as he gazes down at his enraged partner.

Dazai knows that Randou, Dragon Head Conflict, Verlaine is still fresh in Chuuya’s mind- knows about all the moments in the past year or so and knows that Chuuya has lost more than he can stomach. He knows how Chuuya had stilled the first time, buckled the next, and broken down the third time. Dazai knows, Dazai knows. 

And yet he can barely stomach the thought that Chuuya might actually be afraid to lose him. Him, who’s been nothing but a thorn in his side since day one. Him, who’s more high maintenance than useful.

Maybe it’s because Dazai is the last resort— he’s the only one left. It’s understandable that Chuuya wouldn’t look at him twice if he didn’t have to; they may be partners, they may each other’s half, but they’re still strangers— they’re still two teenagers who mix like water and oil. 

And while that difference in density— in the matters of repulsion may complement each other in the end,  it still means that Chuuya and Dazai will never truly realize each other. 

Trust, yes. Understand, yes. 

But never realize.

He knows Chuuya’s mind is chaotic— the slug is almost amusingly simple in these cases— it’s as if he has this perpetual need to protect any and all under his wing. He knows he’s a complex puzzle hidden under a thick layer of impulsiveness and unbearable loss. He knows this, and yet he doesn’t. 

For Osamu Dazai has never known Chuuya Nakahara, not truly, just like Chuuya has never known Osamu. For each of their interactions is shrouded in irritation and infuriating compatibility that never fails to incense them both. Dazai isn’t lying when he likens their natures, their personalities, and their morals to oil and water— for while Osamu’s blood is mafia black, Chuuya’s remains red— completely and utterly human. 

Because, unlike Dazai, Chuuya’s still clawing out for a way to maintain his humanity. For unlike Dazai who’s embraced his status, Chuuya, ironically the godly vessel that he is, is still desperate for a way to not ascend. 

Chuuya’s reasons to join the Port Mafia were always amusing.

Chuuya wants to fall, for otherwise the only way is up and he wants to preserve this fragile, fragile humanity and what better way to do this than by staining his hands red and turning his heart black? And Osamu, dear Osamu, already fallen and boneless wants to laugh out bitterly at this fool with this almost naïve mentality. 

Dazai’s always hated Chuuya for it, the sheer presumptuousness.

In this world, Dazai and Chuuya know each other best— and yet they know nothing at all. They’ve only scratched the surface of what is the other, but even that is farther than anyone else has ever reached. They hate each other, loathe each other, but they understand each other and understand that in this wretched world, there’s not another one like them. 

And that, in the end, is what makes Chuuya push Dazai up against the nearest wall and growl out his anger at Dazai’s recklessness. After all, what would happen if Dazai just ups and leaves? What would happen to Chuuya, a paradox then?

Ah, Chuuya’s worry has always been selfish.

Chuuya’s eyes widen at his icy cynical answer, something akin to irritation simmering under the vivid blue of his eyes before his lip curls and he lets go of Dazai’s collar harshly. 

“You’re disgusting,” He snarls, dusting off his hands. “I don’t know why I bother in the first place.”

“No one asked you to, slug,” Dazai finds himself hissing back, that ever so familiar flare of irritation flaring within him. “Why don’t you go running back to your merry band of misfits— whoever poor soul you’ve decided to doom again?”

He receives a hard punch to the cheek for that, and as the familiar taste of copper floods his mouth, he briefly muses that he deserved it. He definitely went too far with that last taunt— and it shows with his aching cheek and the way Chuuya’s eyes burn like scorned diamonds in the dark. 

“You fucking bastard, that was uncalled for— you know that.” Chuuya’s gaze is dark and Dazai realizes belatedly that he looks moments away from killing Dazai himself. Too bad Dazai has no intention to go out by the hands of such a thing . “Just what the fuck is wrong with you? You were all happy-go-lucky and skippy last week!”

Dazai freezes. 

“Oh?” His voice comes out casual, and Dazai applauds himself for maintaining his tone. He’s been doing this for as long as he’s lived— this is nothing, for Dazai is a master of deception; of manipulation, and of lies. “Why would you think so? Is the Chibi finally going mad?”

But Chuuya still furrows his brow, he still frowns and glares at Dazai as if he’s a puzzle he just can’t solve. Well tough luck, Dazai doesn’t have himself figured out either. 

“Do you think I’m fucking blind, bastard—”

“—I don’t know, you might be— do I need to drag you to a doctor—”

“—Don’t change the fucking subject, shitty Dazai— I know your shitty ass better than that!” Chuuya growls. “What? Did you get dumped or something?”

“Ha! You wish, you virgin shrimp!”

“ What did you just say, bastard?”

“I’ll say it louder then— CHUUYA NAKAHARA IS A VIRGIN SH-”

Chuuya looks thunderous as he takes a single step forward and kicks Dazai’s knees, bringing the brunet down to the ginger’s eye level. “I swear to god, I’m going to kill you—”

“And I said it before, get in line —”

“You’re doing it again! Don’t change the damn subject!” Chuuya slaps the back of Dazai’s head hard, before stepping back and folding his arms with a loud snort. “At least I have standards, bastard. I don’t go around sleeping like a filthy whore.”

“Excuse you, all women are cultured and refined—”

“Whatever,” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “Go on your fake ass feminist rant later— preferably to someone who actually gives a fuck.”

Dazai’s about to open his mouth and inform Chuuya about exactly who gives a fuck when the ginger retracts with a small frown and an unintelligible crease between his brows as he gazes at Dazai. 

“How did you fuck up this time, dickhead?”

 “Bold of you to assume I messed up, shrimp,” Dazai replies automatically. “That’s your job.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes and scoffs as he turns around and Dazai knows he’s annoyed the teen away for now. “Whatever, shitty Dazai. Unlike you, I have better things to do—”

“—Like making heart-shaped eyes at that new recruit?” Dazai starts but Chuuya is already walking away, one hand in a pocket and the other he raises to flip Dazai off as he leaves Dazai behind. 

“Get your shit together and go get laid, bastard! I better not have to save your shitty ass next time or I’ll kill you myself!”

Dazai stares after the retreating ginger even after he disappears from his line of sight, eyes hooded. The wound on his side throbs in protest and he already knows the punch Chuuya landed on him is bound to leave an ugly bruise. 

It’s that pain that jolts him out of his thoughts and reminds him that he hasn’t slept properly in a week or so and he’s running on fumes at this point. Chuuya’s always been helpful in the weirdest of ways- this time striking out with a painful punch that’ll follow Dazai around for the next few days. He should probably work on his training more. 

It’s this same throbbing pain that gives way to the heavy weight of sleep deprivation, exhaustion, and fatigue. When was the last time he ate?

It’s easier to focus on these things- these little, insignificant little things that don’t matter at all in the life of a mafioso, and yet each time he looks at the mental checklist he can almost hear a voice tutting in disapproval. He wants to laugh hysterically for it’s not Mizuha’s voice like any lovesick idiot would say, nor is it Mori’s who just loves to torment him- it’s Akihiko’s and frankly, that’s the biggest giveaway that Dazai is tired and in need of a long nap. 

Too bad he can’t have the permanent nap, but he supposes he’ll have to settle for this one for now. 

It’s also a shame that he has never gotten an ounce of proper sleep in that dreary apartment of his- literally anywhere else is better. Chuuya’s apartment has been broken into more times than he can count, but the shrimp doesn’t need to know that. Mori’s office is also an option, but Dazai hasn’t slept anywhere near him since Chuuya came along and he isn’t going to start again anytime soon. 

Dazai’s used to running on less than a handful of hours of sleep, he’s used to living on a few pieces of scraps and he’s used to overworking himself to the point Mori tuts disapprovingly at him once he wakes up in a hospital room after fainting. 

It’s a way to distract himself— a way to escape from his thoughts and the way his infuriating brain are ever so vivid in his mind, even after so many years, memories he’d rather forget but this stupid brain of his refuses to let fade away into the past.

He closes his eyes, sighing as he rests against the cool concrete of the wall. 

He really wants a drink. 

A flash of reddish maroon hair invades his mind, coupled with apathetic blue eyes and Dazai reopens his eyes, staring down dully at the floor. The first time he’d drank alcohol in front of Odasaku the man had furrowed his brows and looked like he’d wanted to say something. Then he’d seemed to remember exactly who Dazai was and what he was capable of, before deciding to not give two shits about that.

  You shouldn’t drink, Dazai. He’d said lightly. You’re still underage. 

As if that matters.

It’s quite amusing, how Odasaku asks after and pays attention to little details like this. Mori had been the same once; when he wasn’t off being the boss of a criminal organization and was still an underground doctor, but his display of glorified concern consisted of mild chiding but no actual intervention and it was less than well-received. 

Lets them not open the can of worms that was Mori right now. 

Dazai is in no such mood. 

Exhaustion weighs down on his shoulders and he knows for a fact the lack of sleep would be hitting him anytime soon and while it would be a sight to see, he doesn’t fancy passing out on a random floor in headquarters. Mori will never let him live it down. 

So he forces his body to move, one foot in front of the other and it’s almost amusing how he has to convince his body to take every step. If Dazai hadn’t felt like the entire world was weighing down on his shoulders, he might’ve had fun. 

He’s always been strange that way. 

Funnily enough, his mind barely registers where he’s going; he’s too busy moving his legs to pay attention to where exactly they’re taking him, so when he steps out of headquarters, strolls down the streets, and turns around the corner to notice the familiar brick walls, the quaint sign, and the large glass windows. 

Au Revoir. 

His lips part, and some part of him dully registers his surprise. His feet, moving like clockwork had taken to this quaint little coffee shop tucked to the side of a small street. And some part of Dazai is winded, some part of him is taken aback and freaked out and worried because he’s only known them for barely a month so why — 

Why does this place make his bandages feel less suffocating?

Ah. 

So that’s how it was.

Looking back, is it even a surprise? 

Dazai knows the only place he was able to get more than a handful of hours of sleep was Au Revoir and Au Revoir alone. His record up till now had been four hours in the broom closet at Chuuya’s apartment, only to be shattered by a solid eight hours of sleep in the guest room in Mizuha’s apartment. 

It makes sense that his tired body brought him here on autopilot. 

But that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t physically balk at the realization, and an emotion utterly unfamiliar to him pools within his chest, tugging at his heartstrings and making him frown. And frown he does, well as much as he can in this weary state of his-- not noticing how he’s just standing in front of the door, blankly staring at the sign above him. 

He spends five minutes there, then ten and then— 

“Oi, dumbass. How long do you intend to spend staring at the sign like a creep?” 

Akihiko’s voice is refreshingly annoyed, with underlying worry and for a brief second Dazai considers introducing the capricious raven to a certain ginger-haired shrimp. Then he shakes his head because that combo could very well be lethal.

When Dazai spends too long answering, Akihiko grows closer, his tall frame blocking Dazai’s vision as he bends down to snap his fingers in the teenager’s face. Dazai visibly balks at that but notes how Akihiko’s eyes roam his face, darkening ever so slightly when they land on his cheek. 

Then he straightens, grey eyes steeling as he pushes the door open with one hand.

“In. Now.” 

Dazai doesn’t ask twice. 

And really, despite the decided lack of twinkling midnight colored eyes, passing by Akihiko’s taller figure, crossing the raven and into the homely comfort of Au Revoir eases Dazai’s heart in a way he’s never truly felt before. 

It’s at this moment he unwittingly thinks. 

Ah. 

I’m home. 

Chapter Text

You’ve got it all,
You lost your mind in the sound,
There’s so much more,
You can reclaim your crown,
You’re in control,
Rid of the monsters inside your head,
Put all your faults to bed,
You can be king again,

                                    --You can be king again: Lauren Aquilina.

When Dazai enters the shop, he’s immediately swept away by the silence of the usually bustling coffee shop.

His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the dim of the lights and Dazai instantly knows Akihiko had been locking up the café for the night. And yet, the homely coffee shop, with its honey-hued walls and rich brown furnishing, feels glaringly cold. 

It feels empty. 

“Mizuha’s out right now.” 

Akihiko rolls his eyes as he moves past Dazai and the brunette notices how he’s pulled his shaggy hair into a small ponytail, just a hint of pink left in them after last weeks shenanigans. “She’ll be back in a few, so make yourself comfortable.”

It’s as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders at the mention of the maroon-haired girl and Dazai mutters a small thanks to which the raven grunts in reply, his back to Dazai as he fiddles around the kitchenette. Dazai attempts to seat himself at a barstool in front of Akihiko only to stop as the man shoots him a forbidding look. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Akihiko demands. “I just cleaned that, get your ass upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Dazai finds himself asking, a little confused. “But isn’t that–”

“Look, I’m not cleaning a mess again. Just go upstairs and go into the first room to the left. I’m right behind you.”

The implications of the raven’s words are jarringly obvious, and Dazai feels hesitant. He feels unlike his usual self, who’d cared not a whit for personal boundaries and would have jumped at the opportunity to explore his quaint place. 

“Are you sure?”

And it seems that the unimpressed patissier knows this too, for Akihiko rolls his eyes. “ Yes. Shortstack’s gonna be mad if I just leave you out here. Just go.”

Dazai doesn’t ask twice– remembering the plush sofa in Mizuha’s living room and he sincerely hopes there’s a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace just like last time, despite it being a longshot. Navigating through the building is easy, but unlike last time Dazai pays the décor and the furnishing little attention as he stumbles over the steps and scrambles for the familiar room.

He’s tired, and yet still something is fluttering in his chest; light and airy as he pushes open the first door he finds and reveals a laughably cramped living room with two single-seaters placed to each side of a maroon couch he is instantly drawn to. 

 For Dazai, who’s used to the jarring minimalism of his apartment, of the container he lived in before, and even of Chuuya’s sleek, modern residence, this cramped mess should be right out of hell for him. There’s always something to see where ever he brings his brown gaze– be it the small trinkets littered across the wooden tables, the intricate designs of the wall decorations hung up against the wallpaper or even the colorful patterns of the maroon sofa Dazai seats himself at. 

It’s too much– it should be too much, and yet everything works out somehow, in some strange dysfunctional way. Ane-san would certainly have a heart attack if she were to stumble upon this place in some way, but despite his preference for minimalism, Dazai somehow prefers this setting. 

It’s yet another representation of the life Mizuha has in her, and what Dazai lacks glaringly in comparison. 

He’s pleasantly surprised to see a fire going on, realizing Akihiko probably lit up the fireplace a while back when he started closing shop. The spunky raven was most likely was going to crash here after finishing his work.

Some part of him deep down twists in a strange way at this realization.

In his mind’s eye, he can see that night not long ago; when a twinkling gaze had bought him home, sat him in the singe-seater in front of him, and handed him a mug of tea. That night when, for a brief moment, everything had been fine. 

Now here was Dazai again, just as harrowed as he was then, but plagued with an almost unbearable weight of anticipation that made him wish to gag in disgust. 

But ultimately, it’s the slow crackle of the fire, the muffled sounds of Akihiko moving downstairs, and the easy comfort of the sofa Dazai is sprawled over that makes Dazai sink into the warmth, his tension melting away. 

When Akihiko enters the room half an hour later holding a tray, Dazai barely notices him. 

“Here, dumbass.” 

The raven snorts when Dazai blinks owlishly in surprise, placing a mug of chamomile tea and a plate of what Dazai believes are madeleines. Dazai’s grateful for the hospitality, but he’s not quite sure how to feel when he realizes that what’s in Akihiko’s cup is decidedly not tea or coffee or anything similar. “Tuck in– I’m the baker here, not the cook so Mizuha’ll feed us when she gets back from the hospital.” 

“Mizuha’s at the hospital?” 

“She’s fine,” He rolls his eyes, but Dazai spots his gaze turn somber either way, his sharp gaze turning subdued. “She just had to go check up on the old hag.” 

“...The old hag?” 

“The owner of Au Revoir,” Akihiko replies easily, picking up a madeleine and taking a bite, before moaning in delight. “Yeah, that’s good. That’s damn good.  So– yeah, I guess you didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t.” 

That certainly explains the decor here.

There’s an awkward stretch of silence, in which Dazai and Akihiko just quietly snack on the frankly, really tasty madeleines, and Akihiko sips something that definitely isn’t chamomile out of the same ugly mug Dazai sips his tea. 

The tea tastes absolutely terrible, but Dazai says nothing when Akihiko shoots him a forbidding look. 

And even though Dazai can feel Akihiko’s sharp gaze quietly observing his movements, he doesn’t say anything. He’s frankly too tired to do so, and Mizuha clearly doesn’t plan on coming home anytime soon so he’s seriously contemplating just going home–

“ Sit .” 

 Akihiko’s voice is sharp and cold, and Dazai immediately drops back onto the couch, bringing his sullen gaze up to meet the patissier’s stormy grey one. “...I could go home–”

“With a bruise the size of a tennis ball?” Akihiko snaps, pushing himself to his feet. “Sit your ass down, dumbass. As if I’m letting you parade yourself out of my coffee shop like that.” 

“But–” Dazai pauses suddenly, processing Aikihiko’s words. That actually makes sense. Business could get bad if Dazai just strolls out like this. The last thing Au Revoir needs right now is Dazai making yet another mess. 

The sharp snort that Akihiko lets out at Dazai’s silence is unforgiving. 

“Here,” Akihiko reappears with a small ice pack in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Dazai takes the ice pack obediently, only to freeze as his eyes zone in on a glaringly white pill in Akihiko’s outstretching palm. “Take the painkiller– Dazai?”

Suddenly Dazai feels suffocated, the white of the pill contrasting wildly against the colors of the living room he’s sitting in. Suddenly his white, white bandages feel too tight and he can’t breathe and he’s hearing Chuuya’s frantic voice knocking the bottle of pills out of his hand–

Dazai hears the slap before the stinging pain. 

“Get yourself together,” Akihiko’s gaze is dark as he gazes down at the stunned Dazai, but not cruel. In fact, if Dazai tries just hard enough, he can see a strange mix of concern and trouble hidden those stormy grey eyes. “Nothing’s out to get you here.” 

It takes a full minute of that stinging pain for Dazai to realize the implication of Akihiko’s words. 

“What–” 

“It’s fairly obvious,” The raven shrugs arrogantly, shooting Dazai an unimpressed look. “Anyone who’s grown up in Yokohoma knows about the shit that goes on at night. And especially, especially about the forces ruling this city from the shadows.” 

That’s when Akihiko fixes him with a dark gaze; grey eyes brimming with a jaded understanding that Dazai never expected them to have. This isn’t a statement, this isn’t even a question– not anymore. 

This is a test. 

And Akihiko’s gaze is heavy, full of a strange lull that weighs down on Dazai’s shoulders and the raven parts his lips to pose the question– no, the affirmation. 

“You’re a kid from the night, aren’t you?” 

Dazai’s silence is his only answer. 

Akihiko observes him for a bit longer– his gaze growing chaotic with an emotion that Dazai can’t quite place– before he sighs loudly and pushes the painkillers and the glass of water in front of Dazai again.

 “Just take it, dumbass.” 

Dazai just eyes the painkillers, memories upon memories raging before his eyes–threatening to overtake him. Until the stern grey of Akihiko’s gaze weighs down upon him again, reminding him, reproaching him and Dazai is suddenly all too aware. 

Akihiko’s words are quiet. 

“This is a safe place.” 

Dazai doesn’t think twice before taking the pill and gulping it down with water. 

When Mizuha steps into Au Revoir later that night, she’s surprised to find Akihiko still there to greet her. Usually, he’d just leave for his family house after finishing his shift at Au Revoir, despite having a room here at Au Revoir. Today though, he seems to have decided to stay over, which is a welcome surprise since Mizuha’s been getting a little lonely without anyone else in the apartment. 

She makes to greet the tall raven, only to stop when he casts her a dull gaze. 

“Bit of a troublesome stray you’ve picked up, Mizuha.” He comments, watching her shrug off her coat and hang it to the side. “I’m all for bad boys, but seriously– ”

“--I take it that Dazai-kun came over,” Mizuha cuts him off, offering him a genial smile. “Please tell me you didn’t kick him out.” 

Akihiko snorts. “As if. I fed him, gave him my favorite blanket, and let him nap on the old hag’s favorite couch.” 

“You seem a little too pleased about the last detail.” 

“Well, that couch is as ugly as shit–” 

“--Aiko-san’s going to be fine.” 

Akihiko stops in his tracks at her words, and Mizuha smiles knowingly. “The doctors say that she can return home next week. There’s just a round of standard testing left.” 

The raven doesn’t respond for a while, and Mizuha closes her eyes when he finally speaks, his voice growing quieter. 

“And the pleurisy?” 

“It’s treatable, but it’ll take a while,” Mizuha answers quietly as Akihiko turns and slides a cup of tea over to her. Mizuha takes it easily, smiling a little when she sees the latte art on top– a pretty snowflake. Though the smile doesn’t stay for long. “But…” 

“But?” 

“But it’s progress,” Mizuha takes a sip of her coffee. “And that’s what matters.” 

Akihiko doesn’t look at her when she says this, turning his back to her as he fiddles around with the coffee machine. Mizuha doesn’t reprimand him, content to watch the older with knowing, albeit understanding eyes as he answers quietly, all of his usual spunk traded for a quiet maturity that befits his age.

“It does, doesn’t it?” 

Mizuha closes her eyes at his quiet words.

As it remains, there should be no one more relieved to hear the news of Aiko-san’s recovery than Akihiko himself. 

Not even Mizuha herself.

They sit in silence for a while; Mizuha quietly sips her coffee as she watches Akihiko go behind the register to count out the money. Quiet days like this are common between Akihiko and Mizuha when they’re not arguing, especially when Aiko-san was there with them. Mizuha takes the time to think during those moments, unconsciously thinking of harrowed brown eyes. 

Ah, they’d looked so startlingly familiar to that person so long ago.

The person that haunted Mizuha’s dreams on the worst of days; glossy, dazed eyes and a harrowed, dark expression that still made her shiver. 

She visibly flinches when Akihiko taps her shoulder pointedly, dark blue eyes shooting up to meet reproachful grey ones. 

“Deep breaths, kiddo.” He reminds her, tapping the top of her head pointedly. 

There’s still a bit of shocking pink in his hair from Dazai’s prank last week, though it serves to suit his aesthetic more than taint it as Mizuha and Dazai had planned initially. Of course, he had gotten quite a few looks when he’d served customers the first few days– something he’d vowed to get revenge for– but ultimately, it’d been ruled that he looked good in pink too. 

Which was so unfair, but hey. 

“Ah, yeah,” She stumbles a bit over her words, but Akihiko shrugs them off when she continues. “You said Dazai-kun was here?” 

“Yeah, he’s been napping for a while.” 

Akihiko rolls his eyes at her attempt to change the subject but ultimately says nothing. They both know she’d confide in him if the situation calls for it. That’s just how their relationship is after spending four years beside each other.

When Mizuha slips out of her seat to go upstairs, Akihiko panics a little. “Just so you know, I had no hand in it–”

Mizuha frowns, starting. “What–” 

Then she stops, wide eyes staring down at the slumbering form of one Osamu Dazai sprawled all over Aiko-san’s favorite sofa, with one of Akihiko’s blankets thrown haphazardly over his lanky frame and a bruise the size of a tennis ball stark against the pale skin of his right cheek. 

She blinks once, twine, before going, 

“What the fuck?”  

“Language,” Akihiko drawls from behind her, pushing her aside to enter the room. “Sometimes I wonder where you got this filthy mouth from. Was it Oda-kun?” 

Mizuha shoots him a dirty look for that. “As if. The culprit’s standing right in front of me.” 

Akihiko raises his eyebrows, casting the sleeping Dazai an impressed glance. “Really? Wow, he’s more of a troublesome stray than I thought–” 

“Get to the point, Akihiko.” 

“Right,” The androgynous male rolls his eyes, dropping into one of the single-seaters casually, opposite to Dazai. “He was squinting up at the sign in the middle of the night like a weirdo so I went to shoo him away when I saw that bruise. And because I’m such an amazing person, I had him come inside–” 

“Did you have him ice the bruise?” Mizuha's gaze is one of worry, and how can it not be, when the bruise looks all red with hints of purple already. Though it hasn’t really shown yet, Mizuha can still make out the damage. “And painkillers– this must have hurt–” 

Akihiko’s eyes flash with an unknown emotion when Mizuha mentions the painkillers– something that doesn’t go unnoticed. 

It makes Mizuha stop in her tracks and cast Akihiko an uncertain look; one he matches before shaking away silently. “...He’s going to be fine, Mizuha. It’s just a bruise.” 

“Bruises still hurt–”

“Don’t.” 

The steel in Akihiko’s voice makes Mizuha’s concerned fingertips stop centimeters short of Dazai’s bruised cheek, and the maroon-haired girl raises her gaze to meet Akihiko’s stern grey one. “I’m not going to be the one to explain to Dazai why he has no bruise anymore when he wakes up.” 

“But it’ll just take a second,” Mizuha mutters, knowing that Akihiko’s words are not without merit. Her Ability swirls temptingly between her fingertips, and yet she can feel the power drain away at the weight of Akihiko’s gaze. “I can lessen the damage at the very least so it’s not suspicious–”

“You’re not thinking with your head, Mizuha,” She freezes at Akihiko’s words– the silent reproach, the unspoken scolding in it making shame flood through her body. She’s hidden it for so long, and for good reason so why– “You said you didn’t want to rely on it, didn’t you?” 

In the dull light of the fire, Akihiko’s grey eyes are as hard as steel, and Mizuha knows she can’t argue. She knows she’s being unreasonable– not for the first time since she’s known Akihiko. This momentary irrationality was the reason she’d asked Akihiko to restrain her in the first place. 

And though some part of her remains dissatisfied– reflecting somewhere deep in Akihiko’s own eyes too– she knows ultimately it’s for her own good. 

Akihiko and Aiko-san’s hesitance is understandable. They were older than her and had firsthand seen the horrors that Ability Users had faced during the Great War. Mizuha had an idea too– her parents had been doctors in the Immortal Army– but it was incomparable to Aiko-san, who’d lost her very husband to the horrors of war. 

The war that had prized him as a Gifted tool had condemned him after it ended. 

Akihiko’s voice is glaringly clear, despite her muddled thoughts. “...Do you understand, Mizuha?” 

Despite Akiko and Ranpo-kun working at the ADA– a detective agency purely functioning for Ability Users– it’s a far cry from what the Gifted face right now in the wake of the Great War. Take Ume-kun for instance; his own parents abandoning him for fear of his Ability– unable to see the child underneath the stigma of a killing machine. 

With Mizuha, it would be only more pronounced. 

That’s why Mizuha smiles obediently, understandingly at Akihiko, and relents, “I understand, Akihiko.” 

Even as the ugly bruise on Dazai’s pale skin taunts her for her uselessness. 

Akihiko leaves her beside Dazai afterward, citing that he has a long day ahead of him and must rest adequately. Before he steps over the threshold though, he turns his head slightly and casts Mizuha a dark, almost complicated gaze– eyes tracing Dazai’s slumbering figure. 

“When he wakes up, talk to him.” 

“What?” Mizuha’s a bit befuddled at his strange request. Akihiko makes no effort to hide his bemusement at Mizuha and Dazai’s unlikely friendship, but she hadn’t expected him to care for the teen so quickly either. 

Then Akihiko shudders and Mizuha knows that’s not the case. 

“I don’t want to see eyes like his ever again.” 

Perhaps it’s the almost disturbed grey of his eyes, the complicated furrow of his brows, or even the haunted downturn of his lips– but it has Mizuha freezing, midnight eyes flicking down to Dazai. 

Silence reigns between them before Mizuha sets her jaw in determination and nods. 

“I understand.” 

Akihiko leaves after that, and Mizuha settles opposite to Dazai’s slumbering form with a book. With the submission of her thesis, she’s finally finished university and is waiting for graduation. It’s been a rough four years, but she’s made it and she’s mighty proud of that. 

The day she submitted her thesis she’d also applied for a place in the master's program at Yokohama University. Between scholarships and her savings from working at Au Revoir, Mizuha’s fairly sure she can afford the tuition fee. 

If worst comes to worst, Mizuha would just get a second job, even if it meant sacrificing much of her sleep. 

Then again, she never gets to sleep for long either. Being a bookworm has many downsides– lack of sleep is the biggest of them. Akihiko has griped about the dark circles lining her eyes more often than not, but it’s really a lost cause so why bother. 

Of course, there’s someone out there that’s much worse off in terms of sleep than her. 

Mizuha’s gaze naturally strays to Dazai, her eyes tracing the dark bags underneath his closed eyes. He still looks fairly handsome, despite the gaunt tinge to his pale features, and Mizuha resolves to prod him into consuming things besides cake and sugary coffee. 

Maybe a healthy breakfast tomorrow would be good instead of the standard pancakes she makes for Akihiko whenever he stays over. 

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice Dazai’s eyes fluttering open until he’s yawning and pushing himself up into a seating position lazily. 

“...Mizuha?” 

Mizuha blinks owlishly in surprise at the voice, turning to Dazai quickly. “Oh, Dazai-kun. You’re awake?” 

Dazai just casts himself a pointed once over and Mizuha flushes slightly in embarrassment. “Okay, that was dumb of me to ask.” 

“No worries.” 

Dazai offers her a toothy smirk, but it distinctly lacks its usual cheekiness, and Mizuha’s quick to pick up on that. Perhaps it’s because his hazel gaze is now dark, perhaps it’s how there’s a shadow cast over his handsome features, but it instantly hits Mizuha. 

This isn’t a good day. 

Somewhere deep down, despite her growing worry for the boy, some part of her deep down is comforted with the notion that the boy had sought her out despite his demons. It means everything– it means the world– not because of selfish desires, but because this means that Dazai still wishes for help. 

And really, that’s everything. 

Mizuha cannot comfort someone who doesn’t wish to be comforted; she can’t help someone who doesn’t want it or save someone who wishes to continue to drown. 

She’d once looked at Dazai and thought that this was a boy that was held afloat by temporary comfort but would ultimately go under if he didn’t wish to live. 

Mizuha knows she’s unqualified, that going in this blindly would be so, so callous. And yet she knows, that if she can help it, she wants to reach out a hand to pull this drowning boy out of his misery. 

Because Dazai is still that– a child. 

So is Mizuha, so is Akihiko and Sakunosuke and so many others. And yet the world is cruel enough to make them grow up quickly, so what can they do other than pull each other up? 

What can they do other than smile at each other and reach out a friendly hand? 

Because Dazai is a child molded by his surroundings, because he’s a product of society– of failure, of desperation, and of misery. Mizuha doesn’t know anything about Dazai’s circumstances, and she doesn’t want to presume either– right now, she’ll provide the comfort that she can. 

And just talk to this charming, charming boy. 

So Mizuha smiles, and parts her lips. 

“You’ve got a helluva thing there, Dazai-kun.” 

To his credit, Dazai looks understandably sheepish, but effectively ignores her silent question as he replies, “It is, isn’t it? Well, I suppose it adds to my charm.” 

Mizuha doesn’t push, merely humming. She’ll wait for Dazai to confide in her– pushing will do her no good. Let him approach her on his own terms. 

“I suppose it does,” She jokes lightheartedly, placing her book down. “How was your nap? Akihiko told me you’ve been here for a while.” 

“It was…” And there it is, that flash of uncertainty– of unwilling realization and reluctant acceptance. It seems Dazai’s not quite able to believe he slept so well. “...It was good. I liked it.” 

“It’s great.” Mizuha’s smile widens, genuine happiness flooding through her. Perhaps Dazai notices it, for his smile turns just a little lighter. “Now are you hungry? Knowing Akihiko, he must have just fed you the first thing he found.” 

Dazai’s stomach answers for him and Mizuha lets out a laugh, delicate and tinkling before taking the brunet by the hand and leading him downstairs. 

She’d recently picked up a few seafood items after learning about Dazai’s preference for seafood. It’s not much, for Akihiko went absolutely ballistic on the mackerel when he found it, but Mizuha wants to do what little she can to make Dazai feel more comfortable at Au Revoir. 

And judging by today's events, it seems like it’s working. 

Perhaps he’d like a mackerel sandwich. 

He certainly does; wolfing the entire thing down in a matter of minutes. When he finally finishes, Mizuha poses him a question, her smile still there but earnest in a way she hopes Dazai won’t shy away from. 

“Dazai-kun,” He looks up to meet her gaze questioningly, only to freeze. 

Mizuha smiles. 

“Why do you let yourself get hurt?” 

Some part of himself immediately goes on the defensive at that question. Did Akihiko tell her about his suspicions? Did she find out the truth about his profession? If so, how? Did Odasaku tell her–

He hates that part of himself that immediately starts scrutinizing her, who still smiles at him with that earnest and open expression. 

It’s the biggest evidence that Dazai is wrong. 

For he can tell her question isn’t posed with awareness of his true identity– it’s posed with the knowledge of the white bandages wrapped around his arms, it’s posed with the worry for the bruise on his cheek and the bandage covering his eye.

And Mizuha asks him, 

“Why do you let yourself get hurt?” 

There’s no judgment in her voice, no heat or worry or anything of the like. There’s just pure neutral as if Mizuha wishes to know but will never push him to answer. She will never demand his words. 

And honestly, after Chuuya’s demands, after Mori’s nosiness and Odasaku’s complete apathy– this question hits different. So many have asked Dazai this question– why do you let yourself get hurt, why do you want to die, why do you not care for yourself– and yet for the first time, Dazai doesn’t want to bare his teeth and speak untruths. 

Because whether he answers Mizuha or not, she’ll still be here and she’ll still smile at him. 

The dark-haired boy knows he’s being rather irrational here, that this level of trust is unprecedented– is unbelievable for a mafioso like him, and yet he cannot help it. The darkness within in his mind, so potent and thick, threatens to clear for just a moment. 

The anhedonia threatens to retreat, and Dazai wonders if what it means to have unconditional support? If this amount is enough to pull Dazai out of his shell like this, then how would it feel to reveal himself in his entirety to this kind girl?

Ah, he thinks as he watches Mizuha smile gently, he really likes this girl. 

His existence that feels less wrong when he’s beside her, his heart that eases, and his brain that stops raging–  ah, it’s because of her, isn’t it? 

The fact that he’s comfortable enough with the inhabitants of this quaint coffee shop to sleep for six hours straight, to take the unknown pills Akihiko gave him; something he’s never done in all his years beside Mori, Chuuya and so many more. What does it feel to feel so secure as to lay yourself defenseless in front of someone? 

In his mind’s eye, he can just barely hear Chuuya’s plea to lean on him, he can just barely hear his sardonic response and the white, white pills littered across the bathroom and Dazai’s messy reflection in the cracked mir–

“Osamu-kun,” 

His heart nearly stops when his given name spills from Mizuha’s lips. Her body is much closer now, he notices, and as her fingers cradle his cheek delicately, he realizes he can count the flecks of blue in her eyes. 

“Osamu-kun,” Mizuha repeats gently, one hand gently caressing his hair. “It’s okay. You don’t need to answer– I didn’t mean to push–”

Ah, Dazai, really, really likes this girl. 

Perhaps it’s the innocence that draws him to her, the grounded realism accompanying it making her someone he can freely converse with. Perhaps its how she still smiles despite facing the darkness of the world every single day. Perhaps it’s that twinkle of her eye, of someone who’s tread through the darkness herself and yet has emerged brighter than ever.

 So how, how can Dazai not answer? 

His fingers rise before he even registers it, and grab the hand she has in his messy hair, squeezing it tightly as he responds– his voice all but a whisper– a bitter, bitter whisper, but an answer nonetheless. 

“Because I want to find a reason to continue living.” 

Ah, hasn’t he said it before– how this pain, how the littlest of things make him feel alive. The blood pumping through his veins, the adrenaline rush from a gunfight, and white-hot pain shooting up his body– do they not all make him feel alive? 

Do they not make him feel human? 

How can someone standing so firmly in the light understand that? How can someone who smiles just like that ever hope to understand the darkness Dazai drowns himself in every single day? 

He doesn’t begrudge Mizuha for trying– it’s so endearing of her to try to do so. But it’s better if she leaves him like Akihiko did, with a heavy but understanding gaze to not interfere. It’s for the better that he doesn’t end up tainting yet another person that he cherishes.

And Dazai is vindictive in his reasoning, feeling righteous and justified, and everything he slowly feels drains away when he realizes that Mizuha’s expression has not changed one bit. And it hasn’t, it hasn’t until it does and Dazai knows he’s a goner. 

Mizuha’s smile is wry, it’s everything it shouldn’t be and Dazai realizes with a sinking, sinking feeling that she understands. 

And Dazai doesn’t know why , but that’s the biggest blow. 

“Aren’t we all?” Mizuha lowers their joined hands, gently thumbing at his clenched fists. Her gaze is somber, but her smile is rueful and it’s wrong, wrong– “We’re all searching for reasons to live, Osamu-kun. Even the most pitiful of beggars to the most elite of nobles.” 

Dazai remains quiet. 

“Every person that you encounter on your journey is someone still seeking reasons to make their life meaningful. For some, those reasons are materialistic,” Her gaze is gentle, it is fond and it holds none of the scorn Dazai expected of her. And yet he can see traces of sadness in her eyes, especially when she says the last part. “Some of those reasons are emotional, metaphorical, or even so insignificant in their place in life. But it’s the same everywhere, Osamu-kun. You’re not wrong to feel this way.” 

Her fingers slowly coax his fists open, carefully massaging the crescent-shaped marks on his palms. Mizuha’s smile still remains refreshingly– bafflingly– open, and it stupifies Dazai. 

“What is the meaning of life? Why are we who we are? Is the us who is perceived in the hearts of others truly us? In its entirety, what is life?” Mizuha speaks, her smile turning fond when she sees Dazai’s eyes widen in recognition. “Aren’t these the questions you’re asking yourself right now, Osamu-kun? Aren’t these the questions whose answers you desire?” 

Do…Do you, who shines so brightly– Do you know? 

Dazai’s question is unspoken, it’s unsaid, and yet Mizuha smiles like she’s heard it all– the plea of his fragile humanity, the wretchedness of his bleeding heart, and the desperation of his existence. 

“Osamu-kun,” Her smile is rueful, but it’s so, so sincere. “ The moment you stop reaching for those answers and resign yourself is the moment when you stop living.” 

Her words pierce through Dazai like lightning, leaving only bitterness and stinging pain. He feels the implications deep in his bones– of his desperation to commit suicide, of his desperation to rid the world of his presence. 

And Dazai scoffs sardonically, wounded and feeling wronged and–

“So you mean to say I never lived? That I’m not human in my desires–” 

“I never said that, Osamu-kun.” 

His given name on her lips feels tastefully bitter, for he knows it does not belong. It doesn’t warrant being spoken with such softness, with such fondness and adoration and everything that Dazai doesn’t deserve–

“Osamu-kun, I don’t know about your circumstances,” Mizuha begins anew, her gaze humble. Her hands clasp his, earnest and genuine. “I don’t know why you’re like this, or why you think so little of yourself. But know this– isn’t finding a reason to continue to live a reason in itself?” 

Mizuha’s midnight eyes hold a thousand words, glittering with emotion that Dazai can’t quite place just yet– and yet her smile is blinding– it’s so blinding. 

She smiles and says, 

“Isn’t that reason, that curiosity enough to live?” 

Mizuha knows that she might not make sense to the boy who’s been drowning in his own existentialism forever. How in the world he wasn’t a philosopher by now, she’d never know. But still, she tries her best to convey her emotions, to convey her thoughts to him. 

Her affirmation, that she’s ready to walk down this path with him if need be. 

“I think,” She hesitates, judging that chaotic gaze before continuing. “I think you already know that deep down. That it’s enough of a reason to continue living.” 

“Until– Until you find another, better reason to continue–isn’t this already enough? Seeking a reason haven’t you lived all these years? ”

Dazai doesn’t answer. 

“Everyone, everything lives in its own strange way– we can never truly decipher someone’s purpose to live,” Her gaze grows slightly bitter when she remembers her parents; their ambitions and their mania, and their obsession. “Sometimes those reasons trample down on others, hurt the people closest to them but Osamu-kun, what I’m trying to get at here is that everyone has a reason to live– even you.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

What makes you think I want to live?

Dazai’s gaze is dark; it’s as harrowed and hollow as the day Mizuha pulled him away from that ledge and he’d gaze up at her with the desperation of a young child and ask her– why did you save me? 

And Mizuha had responded, 

Because you looked like you needed help. 

And so she responds, her smile bright and blinding and everything she doesn’t feel right now but wants Dazai to feel, and she raises one hand to card through Dazai’s soft, to caress it with all the affection she feels for this awkward fool and she speaks–

“Is that not the reason that you looked so relieved when I pulled you away from the ledge that night?”

Dazai looks like he’d been struck, but Mizuha still presses on, her smile wistful and rueful and yet so, so fond as she cradles Dazai’s cheek delicately and smiles up at him.

“Is that not the reason you look at me like this today, after seeking my presence despite your demons?”

“This journey,” Mizuha smiles. “This journey you’ve been traveling all alone– it doesn’t have to be that way. We’re all searching for answers, we’re all in this together, and we all need someone to accompany us.” 

“Osamu, you have so many who wish to stand by your side.” 

“You have so many willing to walk this path with you; to discover the purpose to live a meaningful life. For as long as it takes, you know that I’ll be there, that everyone in Au Revoir will welcome you, that Saku-ni will stand by you.  So why do you isolate yourself?” 

“Why do you hide away from what you truly yearn for?” 

Because Osamu Dazai is a child– because he is young and foolish and juvenile in his yearnings– because he is all these things that Mizuha Hagane can look up into his eyes and see for herself what he truly yearns for, no matter how he may hide it.

Companionship. 

They fall asleep by the fireplace that night. 

In the morning Dazai refuses to meet her gaze, and for a moment Mizuha is fearful that she might have overstepped. And yet, when he makes to leave after a feast of a breakfast, he offers her a sad but thoughtful smile. 

It’s a smile worth a thousand words, and some part of Mizuha is hit with realization and goes, oh. 

It’s a smile that tells her that he’s considering it, her words– that he’s mulling over them and he’s amenable to her offer. And that’s worth so much– it’s worth so damn much to her who came from fractured relationships– who just wanted to help and now she has and it makes all the difference. 

Dazai takes her hand when she sees him off, squeezes it once when she addresses him formally once more (she’d been mortified once she realized how she’d addressed him by his given name), and he smiles. 

“Call me Osamu,” Dazai– no, Osamu smiles. “It sounds nice coming from you.” 

And perhaps, that’s the biggest evidence that all is well between them– that all will be fine between them. 

So Mizuha smiles back, for, in its entirety, that’s what matters most. 

Neither of the two notice how sharp grey eyes watch the pair converse in front of Au Revoir, choppy two-toned bangs framing his face and a malnourished body wrapped in black– the embodiment of envy and bitterness. 

Neither of the two notices how that grey gaze fixes on a certain maroon-haired Hagane.

Chapter Text

"Cause I have been where you are before,
And I have felt the pain of losing who you are,
And I have died so many times, but I am still alive. 

 

I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday,
And I believe that your head is the only thing in your way,
I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty,
I believe that today it's okay to be not okay."

                                                                     ---  I Believe; Christina Perri

There’s a certain sort of charm about Yokohama. 

Mizuha’s not a native; having grown up in a town a few hours train ride away from said city, but she still vividly remembers the wonder and awe that had encompassed her the first time she stepped into the city. Three—nearly four years later, the magic still hasn’t faded. 

Perhaps it was because Yokohoma came to her as a sort of refuge, a sanctuary firmly away from her parent’s controlling clutches. They had no power here, in this free city. Mizuha would not be dragged home against her will. 

There are the downsides, of course, as with every major city in Japan. It’s more prevalent in Yokohoma, the self-dubbed ‘Capitol’ of the Gifted. But aside from a few skirmishes here and there, there’s not much to worry over. 

It helps that Au Revoir is tucked away in one of the more suburban areas, well out of chaos’s way. It does make business slower, but Aiko-san has never really cared much about making money aside from the costs of running the cafe, so it doesn’t matter. 

The days Mizuha is alone in the cafe, or her presence isn’t required, she spends strolling leisurely through the city. There’s just so much life in Yokohoma; in the old buildings, in the cheerful laughter of the citizens. 

Today she’s standing near the same coastline she and Dazai walked down that night. The ocean is different today— sparkling and blue under the unusually good weather, but just as beautiful. Her hair flutters in the wind, making her smile slightly as she gazes at children playing in the sand down below. 

Aiko-san will be getting discharged from the hospital today. 

Akihiko’s gone to get her in Mizuha’s stead, leaving her with the morning free. With nothing to do, Mizuha had taken the opportunity to take some time for herself for the first time in a long time. 

Checking her watch, she notes that she still has two hours before twelve, when Aiko-san and Akihiko will leave the hospital. She has plenty of time until then. 

The maroon-haired girl smiles one last time before turning to walk alongside the footpath. It might come as a surprise to many, but Mizuha is more of an introvert than an extrovert. She likes to be alone. 

Of course, it’s not often; what with Aiko-san, Akihiko and Maria-chan always around her, but it only makes her treasure those moments of stolen peace more. 

Mizuha wouldn’t trade the life, the people she has around her for the world. It’s just that there are times she needs to withdraw; to recharge. 

After all, despite not looking it, she’s still only seventeen. 

“I’m just a chick; a little chick,” She chuckles to herself as she helps up a small boy who bumps into her. “Careful now, kiddo.” 

The boy barely gives her a second chance as he races after his friend, yelling after him. “Thanks, Ne-san! Hey! Don’t leave me behind!”

There are more people out today. 

She attributes it to the good weather, smiling as she weaves through the crowd; men and women alike, old and young alike. Yokohama usually boasts murky skies, as if it’s only a hair’s breadth away from crying. Today though, the skies are clear, the bright sun beating down on their heads— hardly feeling like a winter’s day. 

It’s brightened up everyone’s moods, it seems, for it clearly does hers too. Mizuha hums as she helps an old lady across the street, gives directions to an odd blonde-haired foreigner, and leads a crying little girl back to her mother. 

Isn’t that reason, that curiosity enough to live? 

If she closes her eyes, Mizuha remembers the way Dazai’s harrowed gaze had turned that familiar shade of chocolate brown once more. It still glaringly lacked any warmth, to the point it was jarring, but the slivers of sincerity she’d seen in the boy’s eyes had reassured her. 

He hadn’t visited after that night, leaving quietly in the morning without waking her. When Mizuha had awoken later that morning, she’d had a thick blanket wrapped around her— the very same one Dazai had had— and her coat folded and placed neatly to the side. 

When she’d stepped downstairs fifteen minutes later, still yawning and bleary-eyed, Akihiko had snorted but had said nothing. 

All things considered, Osamu Dazai didn’t visit Au Revoir as often as Mizuha thought he would’ve liked. He often appeared on rainy days, wrapped in dark clothing from head to toe, as if he didn’t wish to be noticed by anyone. Though Mizuha had a sneaking suspicion he did it solely so that he could have her fuss over him and dry his hair for him, she also had a feeling Dazai often looked like he was hiding from something.

Like he was being chased. 

Or rather, maybe her new friend was just the heir or young master of some random mega-corporation or a kingdom who was visiting her while disguising his identity—

—Or maybe Mizuha’s been watching too many of those movies Maria loves so much. 

Either way, Mizuha’s not very worried. 

She makes sure to pick up some groceries on her way home— Akihiko’s had this weird obsession with rice crackers lately, and Mizuha would rather be stocked up than be left hanging. There’s also Aiko-san who’s returning, which makes Mizuha pause in front of the chicken aisle, wondering if she should make soup. 

In the end, she just ends up getting some ingredients, trying to recall how to make bone broth as she leaves the store. It wasn’t hard…probably. 

Until a familiar maroon-haired blur catches her eye and she pauses, her head snapping to the side. 

Saku-ni? 

Unfortunately, though, Sakunosuke isn’t actually here, and Mizuha merely mistook someone else for him. It still makes her frown slightly though, pausing as she takes a step back to muse about when she last saw her older cousin. 

…It’s been a while since I’ve made curry, hasn’t it? 

Sakunosuke has been busy lately. 

He isn’t very chatty as it is, and it’s usually Mizuha just texting him or occasionally calling him for updates, but lately, he’s been too busy to respond other than a short ‘I’m alive.’ and ‘I’m okay.’. Mizuha isn’t very picky when it comes to communication; living with a cranky old woman and a sarcastic pretty boy does that, but she is a little concerned for her cousin. 

Sakunosuke…tends to close off when he’s going through hard times. 

Her smile dims a little as she remembers, turning a little bitter. She still vividly remembers how withdrawn and detached Sakunosuke used to be when they were children. Her cousin has always been quiet, but unlike now, it had seemed more ingrained in him rather than a part of his personality. 

And how could it not be? 

Mizuha would be the first person to admit to the difficulties her cousin had gone through. And all at the hands of the people who should have loved and supported him. 

To an extent, she supposes even she herself hadn’t been entirely blameless. 

Even if she’d been barely eight when he disappeared. 

Five years later, at the age of eighteen, he’d reappeared in their family home, caused a ruckus, hugged her, and left once more. Only later had she realized he’d left a small slip of paper in her pocket; with a number written in it in messy handwriting. 

A year later, she’d desperately dial that number in a phone booth in the middle of the night; shaking like a leaf in the winter cold, barely anything on, and she’d breathe a sigh of relief when that familiar stoic voice would echo across the speaker. 

Mizuha pauses in her tracks.

…I guess I really should make curry tomorrow then. 

Then hazel eyes flash through her mind and she smiles, letting out a fond sigh as she turns around to make her way back towards Au Revoir. 

I guess I should make a lot. 

The moment Aiko-san takes her first step in Au Revoir, some strange weight lifts off Mizuha’s shoulders. 

Once Mizuha returns, she and Maria tag-team to clean Au Revoir from top to bottom in preparation for Aiko-san’s return. Since Akihiko has gone off to the hospital to sign off her discharge papers and bring her home, this leaves Mizuha with the gargantuan task of making sure Aiko-san doesn’t get stressed any more than necessary. 

This meant making sure everything was just as the old woman had left it two months ago. 

Of course, there were things that just couldn’t have been kept the same, like that ugly fish vase Akihiko had accidentally broken while trying to reach for some cobwebs on the ceiling, or like how Mizuha had accidentally broken a light bulb when she’d tried to hand-pull noodles for the first time. 

They were both in for a scolding for that, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world so hey. 

Aiko-san’s return was met with much fanfare, and Mizuha has to bite down a chuckle when the old woman’s nose wrinkles with pure disgust at all the get-well-soon gifts adorning her living room. 

“The hell is this?”

Akihiko doesn’t miss a beat as he immediately turns to Mizuha and scoffs, “Great, her eyes are messed up now. Let’s just throw her back in there again.” 

“You damn brat!”

The harsh smack he receives for that from the spunky old woman tells Mizuha everything she needs to know about Aiko-san’s recovery and Mizuha bites down a grin at their familiar antics. As Aiko-san softens ever slight so, in front of a nervous Maria, Mizuha smiles. It’s just a reminder that everything is going back to normal– just as it had been two months ago. 

But that’s not true, now is it? 

Mizuha’s smile only widened when she remembered hazel eyes and a familiar boyish smirk. 

Yes, sometimes things have changed, and for the better too. 

So how, you might ask, did she find herself staring down a kid who looked more like an aggrieved raccoon rather than a person?

Well, it’s simple. 

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa makes his entrance in the most discreet way possible. That is, entering Au Revoir and ordering a drink all while glaring holes into Mizuha’s head. 

Predictably, Akihiko immediately asks if she stole the poor boy’s first girlfriend or something. 

Mizuha snorts.

The first thing Mizuha Hagane notices when she meets Ryuunosuke Akutagawa for the first time is just how small he is.

Bold words coming from her who is dwarfed by the majority of the individuals in her life, but nevertheless, one look at the two-tone haired boy has her biting down the urge to shove some food into him.

But instead, she offers him a small smile, aware that he has a long line behind him waiting to order, and asks, “Good morning, what would you like to order?”

The strange boy wrapped in black stares at her for a long time, before quietly murmuring something about black coffee. She doesn’t fail to notice the way his eyes linger ever so longingly so towards large letters tracing the word tea. 

Mizuha smiles.

“Anything else I can get for you?” She asks, pressing a few keys on the register. “Our chef has just pulled a fresh batch of pistachio fig tarts out of the oven.”

Something about his dark expression suddenly changes at the mention of figs, and Mizuha smiles knowingly. It seems Aiko-san and this kid have something in common. After all, the fig tart was made to celebrate the fiery old woman’s return home.

“A slice of the tart then?”

Mizuha doesn’t wait for the boy to answer.

After pointing him in the direction of a few free tables, she turns to prepare the boy’s order. He looks dreadfully malnourished, with ghostly pale skin and sunken cheeks that scream neglect. Even Akihiko casts him another look as Mizuha approaches him.

His lips curl downwards, “I really want to find the person who did his haircut and shake them. Hard .”

(Somewhere, miles away, Dazai sneezes hard.)

Mizuha honestly can’t begrudge Akihiko for his comment for the teenager truly looks like his hair has been through hell and back. It’s cut choppily, with uneven side bangs that frame the side of his face. She doesn’t know if it’s natural, but the bangs are colored white at the ends, which only adds to the malnourished but rabid appearance he boasts.

Why, the moment he’d entered, Akihiko had almost mistaken him for a raccoon and nearly kicked him out.

Which would’ve been funny if the boy hadn’t looked two seconds away from impaling her raven-haired coworker. Perhaps it’s the grey of his eyes that is so similar to Akihiko’s, but the difference between them sets Mizuha on edge.

Ah, it’s dark, just like Dazai’s was that fateful night.

And perhaps Mizuha really is a sucker for kids who look just too damn young to have that kind of eyes that she approaches the thin boy with a wide placating smile, carefully balancing his order between her hands.

“Here you go,” She says gently, placing his plate and mug down in front of him. He eyes it suspiciously, almost as if she might’ve poisoned it, but ultimately nods, grey eyes fixed on the fig tart. 

“Do let me know if you need anything else.”

She doesn’t approach the boy for the rest of his stay at Au Revoir that day, despite feeling his observing gaze on her as she serves other customers.

He leaves after a while, quietly placing down a few thousand yen bills on the table before booking it out of there. When Mizuha realizes what he just did, she runs out after him the bills in hand, only to find no one outside.

“Huh,” She blinks owlishly. “Weird.”

She certainly doesn’t expect him to return the very next day, then the day after that, and the day after. Each time quietly ordering the same thing– coffee with fig tart– to the point that Mizuha has to specially ask Akihiko to bake the tart just for him.

He never speaks more than necessary, only fixing Mizuha with that dark gaze heavy with a strange emotion Mizuha doesn’t quite understand, frostily sipping his coffee and forking the remainder of his tart. She knows she should be put off by this strange presence in Au Revoir, especially since his frosty air is making the other customers uncomfortable, and yet something stops her.

Perhaps it’s how he looks at the fig tart with something akin to boyish wonder; as if he’d never imagined affording something like this.

Mizuha knows this look– she knows what that glint means, for there had been a time when she was in the same position– living off on cheese and crackers in her room until Sakunosuke had dragged her out and fed her ramen for the first time.

Safe to say, she’d fallen in love.

Those had perhaps been the hardest moments of her life, right after she was kicked out of home and fled to Yokohoma in the middle of the night, wrapped in the thinnest of layers in the middle of the harsh winter.

Part of her knows that Sakunosuke would’ve helped her more if she’d allowed him, that Aiko-san and Akihiko would’ve flown to her defense– and yet she knows just how stubbornness plagues someone entering teenage years.

Mizuha never said she wasn’t bullheaded, foolish, and reckless.

Akihiko would be happy to regale any and everyone with tales of her exploits, but the fact of the matter was that someone who’d never received help before couldn’t accept it easily either. Mizuha had learned it the hard way, cast aside by her parents who’d only ever taught her to be independent, so she knew she didn’t want someone else to rush in the same way.

For this pale, thin-bodied boy had looked at the fig tart the same way Mizuha had looked at the hot bowl of ramen so long ago.

Mizuha Hagane is an enigma.

From the moment Akutagawa had witnessed Dazai laugh and smile at her; as if she were his equal; as if she received his acknowledgment— he'd been a mess.

But Akutagawa is rational— he is patient, and so he'd started investigating.

But over the course of the week that he's been visiting this small café, Akutagawa is stumped. There’s nothing remotely noteworthy about this common girl. She’s fairly pretty, but nothing worth looking at twice; always smiling and bickering with the tall raven by her side.

Is she just another one of Dazai's flings?

If so, then why did he smile at her like that? Like she was his equal, like she'd received his acknowledgment and was actually worth something.

Why did Dazai smile at her like that when Akutagawa was much stronger and faster than this random girl?

Akutagawa doesn't know, and each minute he spends observing the girl infuriates him. Dazai might not have noticed it yet, but he's become much more detached at work. He no longer revels in the bloodiness of his work as a mafioso as he used to, and Akutagawa has an inkling it has to do with wherever the Executive retreated to after missions.

Which turns out to be a small coffee shop tucked neatly into a corner of a street in the suburbs of Yokohoma. The interior is neat but homely, the coffee decent and the desserts rather fetching— but there’s nothing remotely out there about the place that Akutagawa would think would distract Dazai.

Except for this maroon-haired barista of course.

"Here you go!"

Akutagawa eyes the girl as she places down his fig tart and a cup of ginger tea, before offering him a curious but otherwise warm smile. It serves to remind him almost of Gin, who he has not seen ever since he came under Dazai's command, and some, weaker part of him falters at that smile.

He remembers stumbling upon Dazai leaving Au Revoir last week, watching furiously as he bid the maroon-haired girl a merry goodbye and offered her a warm, genuine smile. It had infuriated him just as much as it had stumped him, for this instance meant that even someone like Dazai was capable of sincerity.

It only made the teenager feel worse, knowing Dazai had deemed him unworthy of it.

And yet here this clueless barista is, unknowingly the recipient of the acknowledgment of Akutagawa's savior and condemner.  He grits his teeth, trying his best to not lash out of anger, picking up his tea instead.

The first sip makes his nonexistent eyebrows shoot up, the sweet taste of honey melting in nicely with the ginger. It certainly made drinking this tea much more bearable. It’s better than the bitter coffee he’s been having for the past few days. 

But Akutagawa hadn't ordered tea.

Grey eyes snap up to meet twinkling blue ones, and Akutagawa unknowingly feels all the tension drain out of him when Mizuha Hagane smiles serenely at him.

Really, whatever was so interesting about this girl?

"That raccoon's been staring at you for the past hour."

Akihiko drawls as he moves past Mizuha to cut a slice of cake. Mizuha just smiles helplessly, as if there is nothing she can do. "It's a little odd, but I've gotten used to it."

Akihiko just frowns down at her for a second, before doing a complete one-eighty. "Alright that's enough, I'm kicking him out—"

"Yeah, no you aren't."

 Mizuha grabs the back of the raven's shirt, pulling him back towards her. 

"Leave him alone, Akihiko. He's not doing any harm anyway."

"He's been coming in every single day to stare at you for the past week," Akihiko deadpanned. “If I were any more like Maria, I’d say he has a kiddy crush.” 

They both pause to look at the so-called ‘raccoon’ who has been, and still is, drilling holes into the back of Mizuha’s head.

 “Yeah…definitely not a kiddy crush.” Akihiko declares, swirling back towards Mizuha. " Look at him; he looks like a bald raccoon. I can take him in a fight."

Mizuha just looks up at her coworker with an unimpressed gaze. "Bullying children now, are we?"

"Of course I am, children are hell spawns after all."

Mizuha snorts as she shakes her head fondly, placing her pale ‘raccoon’s’ order on a plate, smiling a little when she realizes how that cup of coffee has quickly switched to ginger tea with honey. 

Yes, sometimes things change, and for the better too. 

Mizuha wants to believe it, in some shape or capacity— knowing full well that there that sometimes things do change, and they only get worse. 

She knows it best after all. 

 Standing here as she is now, staring down at the pale boy who'd been quietly visiting Au Revoir up till now— the same boy who looked a little too uncomfortable in his brand new clothing, Mizuha wonders if it was necessarily true.

Especially when he eats his tart a little too quickly, and ends up choking on it.

Mizuha wouldn't have been so concerned about it if he didn't start coughing uncontrollably.

And suddenly Mizuha is transported to two months ago; when Aiko-san had coughed the same way and drawn blood. Suddenly Mizuha is transported to that isolated townhouse at the edge of town, medical books piled high on her desk and frustration painting her face as she tried to memorize as much as possible before her parents returned home.

Staring at the coughing boy, a single word passes through her mind.

Pleurisy.

Her body moves before she even registers it.

Weak, you are weak.

The coughs rack through the teenager's body, making it tremble in a way that has Mizuha flinching in horror. He feels a gentle touch on his back, rubbing circles as he coughs and coughs— it's supposed to be comforting, it's supposed to be warm, and yet, in his haziness, Akutagawa can only feel mocked.

"S… Stop,"  Akutagawa bites out viciously in between coughs. The disease has been getting worse, which only means that Akutagawa is weak for God forbid he'd go to a doctor and get it treated. "Don't touch me--Ack--I--"

" Quiet."

He freezes at the ice in the maroon-haired girl's voice. It's unlike anything he's ever seen out of her, and it reminds him of harrowed brown eyes— brown eyes that stare down at him with disinterest—

Akutagawa goes limp, unable to argue.

"Don't move." Mizuha— he believes her name is— orders, her voice a stark contrast to her gentle touch. "Let it out slowly. Can you tell me what medication you're on?"

"I—I'm not—"

Her eyebrows shoot up with something akin to incredulity. "You don't have medication ?"

"I—I—"

Akutagawa tries to gasp out an answer, only for the normally easy-going girl to break out a fat, loud, " Fuck!"  before whipping her head to the side and calling over her coworker.

"Get Aiko-san's medication! The codeine-based syrup and the ibuprofen! NOW!" She barks towards her dark-haired coworker, and amid the haze, Akutagawa associates the name with the crabby old lady he'd seen watching over the three employees occasionally. She wasn't supervising today though. "It's in the first drawer to your left in her room! Hurry!"

The piercing guy immediately bolts, with the uncanny motion of someone used to situations like this.

"As for you," She turns back to Akutagawa, still holding him up on his feet. "I—"

"I—I don't need your— help—"  Akutagawa hisses darkly, only for her grip to tighten on his arm.

I don't want your pity.

"Shut up."  He stills at the venom in her voice. "As if I'm letting you cough yourself to death in my coffee shop. Take the damn medication and go to a doctor damn it--"

At that moment, she sounds more like her sardonic coworker than herself. Akutagawa was honestly stunned to see curses spilling from her lips, having seen just how composed the girl is normally. But today her gaze is dark, and her lips pressed into a stern line as she steadies Akutagawa, making him sit down in one of the chairs.

But Akutagawa is full of teenage hormones and pure stubbornness so he bites out—"You know nothing--"

"What is it with all the idiots around me saying that?" Mizuha's mutter is dark, before she shoots him an unforgiving glare. "I don't need to, you big idiot. I need to just focus on what's happening now."

Her words strike a chord in Akutagawa and he watches as the girl fixes him with an imperious gaze capable of leveling entire mountains, as she parts her lips and hisses, "I am not pitying you."

Harsh midnight-blue eyes glare down at him.

"I am saving you, you fool."

In retrospect, assuming the raccoon-haired boy's infliction was pleurisy was purely an illogical assumption fueled by Mizuha's memories of the night Aiko-san had to be admitted to the hospital. Seeing the woman who'd raised her kneeling over the counter coughing her lungs out and barely coherent had shaken Mizuha who'd been getting used to her new peace.

To this new life, she'd been adjusting to.

Aiko-san had pleurisy.

Perhaps it was some strange sort of guilt that manifested when she saw someone else in the same position. Back then, when Aiko-san had been in pain, Mizuha had frozen and it had been Akihiko who'd sprung into action and barked at her to call an ambulance. Mizuha who knew what pleurisy was, who'd been raised to be a doctor, who'd spent years watching parents treat patients.

Maybe that was why she'd assumed that boy had pleurisy.

Thankfully, she fixed that mistake quickly.

As soon as her words seem to quieten the rabid boy, Mizuha coaxes him upwards enough so that she can press her head against his chest and feel for his lungs, clenching her eyes shut in concentration.

Scratch. Scratch.

Her heart beats faster than it has in a long, long time, but she ignores it as she counts his ragged breaths— her heart falling when she notices the rough, creaky sound emanating with every sharp, coughing breath he takes in.

Inflamed lungs for sure.

That scratching sound is unmistakable. 

Her mind kicks into overgear, thinking of any and all the possible medical terms that come to mind at the moment. Suddenly she's back in her cramped room back in her childhood home, with towers of medical books taller than her and a bleak timetable in front of her empty of anything other than eat, sleep, study, and a chilling practical session.

Mizuha knows this.

Mizuha has lived this.

Until three years ago, Mizuha had been a medical prodigy.

NSAIDs most definitely. Would codeine be okay? It's a bronchoconstrictor. I still don't know why he's coughing. Maybe another cough syrup would be better— Ah, I wish I could ask him if he has a diagnosis already but it would be better to not aggravate his coughing anymore unless he coughs up blood again—-

But then the boy coughs out a harsh,

"Chronic…. pleurisy. "

Mizuha freezes, her mind coming to a halt as those two words echo through her mind.

Chronic….

Pleurisy .

She briefly registers the arriving Aiko-san's indignant squawk as Akihiko all but crashes into her with the medicine in hand. "What in the world is going on— Akihiko!"

"Later, hag!"

Mizuha doesn't let up slightly rubbing the boy's chest, calming down a little as his cough settles a bit before pushing some cough syrup in front of him as well as some ibuprofen.  She stays by his side rubbing his back as she quietly but firmly coaxes some water down his throat as she recalls all that she knows about him.

Short. Scrawny. Clearly malnourished. Has chronic pleurisy no doubt because of malnourishment. Likes ginger tea with an absurd amount of honey. Fig tarts.

Ah, fig tarts.

Maybe not the best thing for someone with pleurisy to eat.

When the boy finally settles into her arms, the painkillers finally hitting him and knocking him unconscious from relief, Mizuha finally looks up into cold, but concerned grey eyes.

Aiko-san's seventy years old, but she looks a good ten years younger than that. It's probably because of the harsh lines across her aging features, reminding Mizuha of old steel— of an iron lady who refuses to bend over. She's the strongest person Mizuha knows, and yet, she's also human.

She's also fragile.

She can't live forever.

But the life in those eyes of hers says otherwise, especially with that still slightly bewildered but concerned expression. Aiko-san has pleurisy too— has been staying in the hospital because of complications because of it for an entire month—  so she probably understands better than anyone when Mizuha quietly says just one word.

"Pleurisy."

Realization dawns on those aging features.

And because Aiko-san was there when the doctor told Mizuha and Akihiko the diagnosis; because she'd been there when the doctor told them that pleurisy as harsh as hers— to the point of coughing up blood— only appeared in serious cases of people above the age of 65; she knew best that for a boy who looked barely twelve, this wasn't normal.

Maybe that’s why she immediately turns away to cater to the customers, barely offering Mizuha another glance as she leaves. Because in this situation— she knows best.

Mizuha just sighs, gathering the sleeping boy closer in her arms as she looks up pointedly at Akihiko.

Akihiko stares at her for a full minute before letting out a slightly disbelieving scoff, as if what just happened still hasn't sunk in, before picking up the boy and carrying him upstairs.

As he moves past her, Mizuha murmurs,

"Careful. Don't put pressure on his chest."

Akihiko rolls his eyes but softens as he moves past her,

"I know."