Chapter Text
In the corridor, Yosano expression changes from annoyed to stoic, wishing that someone would tell her that she does not have to have the talk with the president and Kunikida. How do you explain the president that the newbie has been tortured and is currently laying in her infirmary, being everything except really cooperative?
With an already exhausted sigh she knocks on the door. “You may enter” comes from the president, who is sitting at his desk –fronting the door–, which lets him have direct eye contact with the woman. Unlike Kunikida, whose back is the only thing she is able to see besides his low hanging head. So, she is interrupting the already ongoing conversation, great.
Fukuzawa motions with his left hand to a free spot besides the blond detective, which she gratefully accepts. “Where were we again” Fukuzawa converses calmly.
At that, the detective straightens his back and focuses to resume as best as he can what his shared conversation was about before she joined them.
“Well, after days of searching for Dazai Osamu we found him in a basement with another person, who we couldn’t identify as of now. He is bruised, lost lots of blood and didn’t seem to be mentally with us, which can be seen with him acting differently. For example, him not being talking active or him being cold and what can be described as emotionless towards us. If that change is permeant due to the trauma he lived through while being tortured or if this is some form of shock reaction, that he will live down in the future is still unknown. If I forgot something, please add it Yosano-sensei.”
Yosano patiently listened and thought back if he forgot something important. Sadly, he forgot the most important part.
Ahead of the doctor, Fukuzawa opened his mouth: “Before you do that I need some information on his wounds.”
She instantly avoided his gaze. “He has stab wounds on his thighs, a deep wound in his stomach area, he lost a lot of blood. However, I don’t have details on his condition but it’s definitely nothing deadly.”, she mumbles.
“How come you as a doctor don’t know his condition?” Fukuzawa sounded rightfully mad, what makes her head spin in a disgusting way she never experienced before. “He doesn’t let me take a look under his bandages and I have a hunch why that could be the case. I hate this. Why is he everywhere?” she started to ramble. Her eyes fixed on her trembling legs, hands grasping her knees for dear life.
“-sano. Yosano! Calm down. Everything is alright” speaks softly to calm her nerves so she would stop hyperventilating and does not have a full-blown panic attack. Her co-worker has a glance full of worry next to her.
After a quick breather she started again: “I couldn’t look at his wounds since he is not allowing anyone to look under his bandages, which normally wouldn’t count as an excuse. However, there is some evidence only I can see that maybe…. It’s just a hypothesis. However, it could be that we have had the same mentor in the past.” She gave her best to look the president in the eyes while saying this. His gaze softened. “If that’s correct we do have to give him as much time as he needs with opening up and getting used to new environment.” Kunikida doesn’t understand a thing they are talking about but at the same time thinks that asking for details would be rude when it so clearly affected Yosano deeply.
“Thank you two for being honest with me. If there is not anything more you want to discuss you may be dismissed”
The two shared a look, waiting for the other to raise their voice first. Kunikida nodded and clears his throat. “There is more we would want to talk about.”
Fukuzawa hums and signals them to continue with a slow but firm nod.
Yosano, who calmed herself, expresses their concern: “When we found Dazai we did not free him.” At that the president furrows his brows in confusion. “He did it all by himself. Judged us and got himself out of there. He even had the nerves to be annoyed by us”
Kunikida nods in approval and waits for the presidents’ answer.
After pondering over the said things for a while the oldest raised his calm voice: “I’ll talk to him about this. Thank you for coming with this to me. The two of you worked really hard. Feel free to take off for the rest of the day. You may be dismissed.”
Dazai knew the second he could hear the blunt steps that this could he no one else except of the president. The quickening beeping of the monitor depicts his growing unease. Cold sweat forms on his forehead. A kind of dizziness followed by nausea rises. It is not often that the ex-mafia executive is affected by such mundane feelings like fear. However, the fear of disapproving his dearest friends’ death wish gnaws at his heart.
Osamu always was sure that such thing as guilt are only reserved for human beings, not whatever he is supposed to be. He would describe himself as a distorted picture of a human, a failed replica. He himself has as much in common with a real human as a doll would.
Nevertheless, here he is, confronted with such human emotions that it makes his skin crawl. This is not how this is meant to be. These detectives should fall for his merry-go-round act. He is supposed to live the life his dearest friend wished for him. All of this until his grand finale: a beautiful (gruesome), artistic (gory) suicide.
Nothing matters, he is sure of it.
After a cautious knock, the door opens.
As expected, there he is. Fukuzawa, the president of the armed detective agency. By now Dazai has regulated his pulse so his opponent can’t tell what is going inside of him. A well-practiced wall. Fukuzawa can’t say he expected this to be a n easy talk but he was definitely not expecting this blankness.
The president knew something was up the second Dazai applied for the job. He was too smart for his own good there is close to no information about his past. If Akiko is right and Dazai has to do something with that military doctor then his past is a much greater issue than he first thought.
Looking at him now, Fukuzawa is not seeing a tortured 20-year-old man. No, he sees a poor child who was in the hand of Mori Ougai, the most disgusting man to mankind. He was seeing a child, who needed a hug. A child, who needed words of affirmation it never heard before.
With slow steps he approached the child. It didn’t move. It looked like a statue. A doll. If you step to close it’ll break. Nevertheless, Fukuzawa sits down next to it.
“How are you feeling, my child?” the child notices the calming voice. It knows this voice is meant to sugar coat something. But this is ridiculous. There is no reason to sugar coat him needing to leave the agency. It is plain obvious. The child failed. What is there to do with a failed child when it is not working? You trash it, obviously.
The child opens its mouth: “No need to be this kind, Mr. president I understand the situation at hand and will be gone by midnight.” The room seems to cool down by the coldness that laces the spoken words.
“No, no Dazai you’re misunderstanding” “Oh? Am I being punished first?”
“There will be no punishment. There will be no leaving. No matter how your self-proclaimed solo mission went, no matter how I feel about you doing this on your own, no matter how little information you share about your past, no matter what happens, you are a member of the armed detective agency.” The brunet hates himself for letting out a yelp. He does not understand.
“Yes, there will be consequences for your actions. However, this will be in the future, for now you’ll rest.” “I am sorry president, I understand.” The brunet looks down ashamed.