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The first time Dazai killed someone he was--
Hm.
He doesn't remember.
The first time Dazai killed someone he remembered, it was in front of Mori. Of course it was. His first torture was too. Both, giving and receiving. Mori loved taking as many of Dazai's firsts as he could. They were in an alleyway because cliches somehow held narrative importance when talking about his past. When talking about Mori. It was dusk and they were in an alleyway.
They had cornered some thug that had information they needed. He tried to fight, attacked Dazai first because he looked weaker. Was weaker. Is weaker. It was a shitty move. Dazai had him dead in seconds. A clean shot straight through the head. He was dead by the time his body was close enough to touch.
Mori watched the whole thing with fascination. Didn't make any attempt to move. "If you need to throw up, do it away from the body." He said, idly, like Dazai was having first day of school jitters.
Dazai turned to him, blank eyed and confused. "Why would I throw up?"
He had seen movies of course, knew that sometimes people threw up after these kinds of things. Like they were disgusted with themselves. Dazai always thought it was more of a narrative choice rather than an actual thing. Why would he feel disgusted? Why would he feel anything? Life was meaningless. He never felt anything at all. Why would this be different?
"Hm." Mori said, like he was taking note of something. That was never a good sign. "Is this your first kill?" He asked.
There was a right answer. There always was, when it came to Mori. And while Dazai was a great liar, Mori would press for the truth. If Dazai really wanted, he could have come up with a lie that sounded true enough. But this was not a hard truth to give. Not like so many of the ones Mori took from him.
"Don't remember." Dazai shrugged. It didn't cost much to say. Dazai's memory of his past was fuzzy. A blur of moments that amounted to nothing. Not till Mori took him under his wing. This was something that pleased Mori immensely.
Was it his first kill? He was not sure. He would have probably reacted the same, regardless of the number. Mori knew this too, no doubt.
"Hm." Mori said again. Thinking. He smiled at Dazai, in the shitty alleyway with a rotting corpse. "I think I have just the job for you."
////////////////////////////
"My first kill was an accident." Chuuya says. He's not looking at Dazai. They're laying on his bed and Chuuya is looking at the ceiling as he says this. Dazai looks at him from the corner of his eye. Stays silent so Chuuya can continue.
He reaches out his pinky so it brushes against Chuuya. His skin is warm against Dazai's. He feels it in his whole body.
"I didn't know how strong my gravity was." Chuuya huffs like this is something a child should have known. Silly chibi. Dazai doesn't say anything. Chuuya wouldn't listen anyway. Not right now. Not for this. "He was this massive guy, I managed to get the jump on him, aimed a kick for his head and it went flying. Think that was the most blood I ever saw."
Dazai shifts his hand to rest atop Chuuya's. He's looking at the ceiling too now. Can't risk looking at Chuuya like this. Doesn't know if he can handle whatever expression Chuuya is making. His heart is already in his throat.
"I threw up so bad after." Chuuya huffs a laugh. It holds no humour. "Shirase avoided me for like, a week after. I'm still not sure which part he found more off-putting."
Good. Dazai doesn't say. Shirase is already gone. Chuuya never appreciated Dazai's longstanding hatred for him.
I never knew people actually threw up. Dazai doesn't say. He still can't fathom it. Why it's different to anything else. Is it the smell? The act of taking a life itself? It doesn't make sense. Not really. But. But it makes sense for Chuuya. Chuuya who can turn an army inside out without blinking now, was once a child. It's a strange concept. But it makes sense. Makes sense that he's the opposite of Dazai who was never a child. Was never much of anything really.
"I don't remember my first kill." Dazai says, it's barely above a whisper. It sounds like a confession. Proof that Dazai isn't as human as Chuuya. Isn't human at all.
Chuuya turns his palm to face up so he can interlace their fingers. Dazai has to squeeze his eyes shut before he can tremble out of his body. Chuuya is warmwarmwarm.
"The earliest one I remember was with Mori." He doesn't know why he's saying this. Why he's telling Chuuya. Why he needs to relive it at all. But he can't stop. Even now, he can barely remember the body of the man he killed. He only remembers the alley. "That's when he made me specialise in interrogation and torture."
Chuuya's grip on his hand tightens. Dazai risks looking at him. Chuuya is already looking at Dazai. He's frowning in a way Dazai doesn't know how to soothe.
Chuuya opens his mouth like he's going to say something. He doesn't. Closes it again. Dazai is grateful, he doesn't know if he can survive whatever Chuuya was going to say. Doesn't know how to come to terms with how his life sounds to other people. He lived it. He can't undo that. He can't deal with feeling anything about it. It's too much. Living it once was enough.
Chuuya rolls over till he's practically on top of Dazai. Dazai's other hand comes up immediately to rest on his back while Chuuya nuzzles himself into the crook of Dazai's neck. He presses a kiss there, just below the bandage. It's so undoing, Dazai holds back a gasp. He rubs his thumb on Chuuya's back and they stay like this till the sun rises.
//////////////////////
"Do you not count Suribachi city?" Dazai asks out of nowhere on a Saturday morning. Chuuya has just finished his morning stretches and is preparing breakfast. Dazai is sitting on the couch and staring at him. Well, he's more draped over the back of it like the weird fish he is. Chuuya doesn't even think to yell at him for it. It's gross, how domestic they've become.
"What?" He says as he takes the eggs out of the fridge. The door hides his expression from Dazai, not that the bastard can't read him with his eyes closed. Chuuya does it anyway. A cowards move perhaps, but he doesn't need to be a soldier in his own kitchen. He knows what Dazai is referring to, of course he does, he can also read the shitty fish with his eyes closed. Despite the fact that the conversation happened months ago, it feels like a continuation.
Still. He asks. As a way to not immediately yell. To throw something at Dazai. Suribachi city is forever his something. It's-- his home and his damnation. His fault. His birthplace. He asks, as a way for Dazai to take it back. Because Dazai knows this already. Knows everything there is to know about Chuuya. Probably more than Chuuya knows about himself.
"As your first kill, I mean." Dazai replies easily, like this is a normal conversation topic. Like the words haven't caved a hole in Chuuya's chest that's been waiting to break. Like it's a normal thing to say on a Saturday morning.
Chuuya doesn't slam the fridge closed. It's a testament of how far he's come. He pins a look at Dazai though, a warning. Dazai knows all the words to say, all the buttons to push, to get rid of Chuuya. Or-- no. Chuuya will always come crawling back. Doesn't matter what Dazai does, the fact that it's Dazai is enough. He wonders if Dazai knows this. If he's testing the limits of Chuuya's desire. His devotion. Possession. Maybe he wants him to break. Maybe it's a fucked up form of self harm. Dazai is frustratingly creative with them.
"Don't remember it." Chuuya says. An echo of what Dazai said. Only his is more of a defence than a confession. His shoulders are tense but he refuses to look away from Dazai. Refuses to back down. Dazai could rise to the challenge. Could twist his words till Chuuya believes that it was his first kill. He would believe Dazai, if he simply stated it. It's a truth that claws it's way out of him, straight through his chest, ribcage be damned.
Dazai doesn't do that though. Surprisingly. Or. No. Not really. Not anymore. Dazai isn't as purposefully cruel anymore. Doesn't try pushing Chuuya away as much as he did before. Isn't the same frightened child with thorns instead of petals. Not like it mattered to Chuuya. Thorns were always more intriguing to him. He would brush his hands against them, whenever he saw them, if only to prove to himself that he could bleed. That his blood was the red of humans and not of monsters. He's still not sure, they are awfully close shades.
Dazai only hums in response. His eyes are sharp. Sharper than they should be. Chuuya doesn't say anything. They remind him of thorns. He wants to reach out. Wants to touch. Wants to bleed by Dazai's hand. Wants Dazai to taste his blood. Wants, wants, wants.
He stays still, holding the carton of eggs in his hand and looking at Dazai.
Finally, after Chuuya thinks of killing himself then Dazai as a way out of whatever the fuck this awkward silence is, Dazai speaks. "I want pancakes for breakfast." He flops back down onto the couch, away from the backrest so Chuuya can only see his feet. He sounds like a spoiled brat. He sounds like he normally does. He sounds like Chuuya's.
///////////////////////////////
"Mori was my first kiss." Dazai says. He doesn't know why he says it, he can feel Chuuya's tense where their limbs are tangled together. He hasn't thought about it in a long time, he was barely even thinking about it before it slipped out of his mouth. But--
Chuuya has this effect sometimes.
Dazai can feel the way his breath hitches as he takes in the implications of Dazai's words. He feels it as if it's his own breath. Chuuya's palm is on his bare chest and Dazai thinks he's going to reach in to pull out Dazai's heart. He won't find it. He'll open an empty cavern where Dazai is supposed to be. Where his humanity is supposed to sit. He doesn't miss it. He hasn't had it for a long time. He's not sure that he ever had it. He's a big ball of nothingness.
Sometimes, Dazai wonders what would have happened if they tried to give him Arahabaki instead. He thinks about Chuuya living a normal life, not tainted by the mafia. He thinks of himself as a vessel for a god he doesn't believe in. He wouldn't have fought back, not exactly. He's not as strong as Chuuya. Not as human. Doesn't cling to life the same way. But. But he's so empty. All hollowed out. He wonders, about the sort of destruction Arahabaki could bring. If it took over Dazai instead. Wonders if it will be as beautiful as when Chuuya is consumed by corruption.
Chuuya traces vague shapes on his chest. He stays quiet, like he's mulling over whatever words he's about to say. Dazai knows, no matter what it is, it will be devastating. Chuuya is devastating. Could break Dazai just as easily as Dazai could break him. Easier, maybe. Dazai is so fragile, after all. Fragile in the hands of Chuuya. Dazai will break by his hands. Will be destroyed so thoroughly, there is nothing left of him. Not even dust. Chuuya will destroy him. Will erase him from existence. Dazai has known this for a while now. Knows he won't die at the hands of anyone else. It wouldn't be right. He couldn't accept it. Not even his own hands, are worthy of taking a life that Chuuya has claimed. No matter that it's his. It's Chuuya's now. He's Chuuya's now.
"If you asked me to, I would kill him." Chuuya says. It's barely above a whisper. Devastating. The way the words are strong enough to make his chest cave in. Devastating and Chuuya is looking at him, like he's worth looking at. And-- Chuuya is so beautiful. Devastating and beautiful and horrendous and kind. He's the worst thing to happen to Dazai. He's the only thing that matters.
I would kill him for you. He doesn't say. But the words sit heavy in the air. In his breath. Dazai inhales it, it hurts, burns, as it flows into him, into his blood. This sort of pain, is something that only Chuuya can deliver.
"I know." Dazai breathes out. Soft and just as much of a confession.
I trust you. The words are too sacred to be said aloud.
"Albatross was my first kiss." Chuuya says, later, when the silence isn't so heavy. "I think."
Dazai quells the immediate rise of jealousy. "You think?" He hums. His hand is resting on Chuuya's waist now, they're facing each other, laying down on Chuuya's bed. Chuuya looks soft, like this. In his bed with Dazai. In Dazai's arms.
"Yeah." Chuuya huffs a laugh. It's a little sad, the way he always is, when he talks about the Flags. It hasn't changed, no matter how much time has passed. Dazai doesn't think it will. "It was before Verlaine. We all got so drunk, just because we could, I think. Because we had survived till then, I guess. And Alba and I were the youngest, right, and they were all talking about their experiences and so, we figured, if we were gonna die tomorrow, we might as well. So." Chuuya waves a hand, like that makes it easier to process. Like it makes his life more bearable. Like it lightens all the weight he carries.
And. Maybe it does. Maybe it makes it easier to say it out loud. Dazai wouldn't know. The heaviness he carries is different. It's from within him.
"For what it's worth." He says, because he has to. Because he is also devastating for Chuuya. Because he can't be anything else. Because despite his jealousy. "I'm glad you had each other."
He braves looking Chuuya in the eyes as he says it. Braves burning in the blue of Chuuya's eyes. Even as they turn murderous. Then sad. Then--. He's not sure. Sometimes, Chuuya is incomprehensible. Sometimes, he's something so far away from Dazai, Dazai could never even hope to reach out and try.
"Sometimes." Chuuya says, his voice is wobbly, like he's trying to suppress something. Suppress himself. "I really hate you." It sounds like a confession. It doesn't sound like hate. It doesn't sound like it can be anything but hate.
Dazai understands.
"Me too, chibi." He whispers. As much of a confession as he can give. It's devastating, the amount of emotion swirling in Chuuya's eyes. The amount that Dazai cannot understand. Not beyond a logical level. There are things he cannot feel. Things he never will. He can't mourn them, not when he doesn't know what they are. Not when he never had them.
/////////////////////////////
"What should I do with you?" Chuuya sighs. It's weighted, but it doesn't seem like he's expecting an answer. Dazai doesn't know how to answer anyway. Doesn't know what to say. Chuuya has just finished bandaging him up. Fished him from a river and stopped him from dying of hypothermia. It was his day off, Dazai knows his schedule by heart. He wonders, if that was why he picked the river closest to Chuuya. It wasn't on purpose, not exactly, but everything about Dazai is purposeful. Everything about Dazai is about Chuuya. So, maybe it was on purpose. He can't think. Can't do much really. Chuuya didn't say anything, the entire time. Just picked him up and took him home. Like a stray dog.
Kill me. Dazai wants to answer. To ask. To beg. He does not want to be alive right now. He never does. But. Especially not now. Not when he's already ruined Chuuya's day. He thinks, if he truly loved him, he would have picked a different river. But Dazai is a shattered person at best. And an empty void of nothingness at worst. His despair is consuming. Greedy. He is the worst parts of a person, all stuck together in a way that doesn't fit. He isn't a person at all.
What should I do with you?
It's not the first time Chuuya has said these words to him. Hardly any different really. But. But. But-- There is something different. Something Dazai can't parse out. Won't figure it out. Refuses to. He will only find the truth. And that is not something he can handle. He is a burden to Chuuya. He knows this. Knows this like a law of the universe. And yet, he cannot stop. He will always pick the river closest to Chuuya.
Keep me. Dazai wants to beg. Cry. Plead. He does not deserve to. He is not worthy of it. Make me worthy of you. He wants to say. Make me yours. But Dazai has always been Chuuya's. Whether Chuuya accepts it or not. Knows it or not. And. He knows now, but there is no measure that could encompass the depth of it. Sometimes, Dazai is scared of his devotion.
He can't scare Chuuya away. He is going to scare Chuuya away. He knows this. It's inevitable. Chuuya is going to look at Dazai one day and realise. He's going to look at Dazai and see the revolting mess within him. The disgusting nothingness he carries around in a desperate attempt to be human. He's going to see the truth. And he is going to be horrified. Dazai will not blame him. Chuuya will leave. And Dazai will let it happen. He wouldn't want to be with himself either.
And--
"Hey." Chuuya says, his voice is barely above a whisper, but it is worried. Alarmed. Dazai looks at him in confusion. Doesn't know what's making Chuuya have this reaction. Nothing has changed. They're both sitting on the marble tiles of Chuuya's bathroom, bandages next to them and blood-stained tissues scattered nearby. They haven't moved. Nothing has changed. But Chuuya is frowning and--
Dazai watches, from somewhere out of his body, from somewhere far, far, away as Chuuya's hand comes up to stroke Dazai's cheek. And-- oh. His hand is so soft. It's so gentle. Tender. Dazai could cry.
Chuuya wipes a tear from his cheek and--
Dazai was already crying? He hadn't noticed.
"What's wrong 'Samu? What are you thinking of?" Chuuya's words are even more gentle than his hands. And Dazai is unworthy. He is entirely undeserving of such kindness. Especially from Chuuya. But he doesn't dare to move. He is selfish. He will take everything he can. Until Chuuya leaves.
"You." The word falls out of him, unwilling but honest. There is nothing else to it. There is never any other answer. It's always Chuuya. Always. There is no other option. It's Chuuya.
And--
Chuuya's eyes narrow, there is no anger in them. It's strange, to see such an expression on his angry slug, but it's beautiful. All versions of Chuuya are. Dazai wants him to be the last thing he sees. Chuuya knows him. Knows him. Is fluent in Dazai in the most horrible ways. Dazai doesn't know why he stays. Why he lets Dazai stay.
Chuuya figures it out.
Of course he does. Figures out what Dazai could never even dare to put into words. Figures out what he means. Understands it. And doesn't leave. He looks at Dazai and rolls his eyes. There is a certain fondness in them. Dazai can feel his heart coming back to life. It's horrible. Terrible. Chuuya is the most devastating person he knows.
"Ask me." Chuuya says. Demands. Orders. He says it with such conviction, Dazai could never hope to fight it. Not that he could. Not that he would. He is but a slave to Chuuya's words. To Chuuya. Would do anything he said. If it meant having Chuuya's eyes on him. If it meant Chuuya would look at him and not leave. If only for a moment. He would take anything Chuuya was willing to give. Would take it like a man starving.
"Chuuya." He breathes, his voice is hoarse from misuse. This is the first time he's spoken today. It makes sense, that this is his first word. Makes sense, that it's for Chuuya. There is nothing else it could be. Nothing else Dazai could be. Can be. "Keep me?" He asks. It's the most desperate plea he's ever given. It's the only thing he's desperate for. It's the only honest thing about him.
And. Chuuya is the most devastating thing. Chuuya, who destroys him, every time he looks at Dazai, cups Dazai's cheek with enough gentleness to undo his entire existence. "You're mine." He hisses and it's a promise. It's acceptance. Confirmation. Ownership.
It's the truth. That's all it can be. All it is.
///////////////////////////////
"You know." Chuuya hums, like it's something light, like it's a normal thought that normal people have. It's entirely too purposeful. He knows he isn't fooling anyone. The sun has barely risen and Chuuya is wide awake and Dazai knows Chuuya more than he knows himself. Dazai turns to him, almost immediately, as quickly as he can, like he's trying not to raise suspicion. Chuuya looks at him. Looks at him.
Dazai doesn't blink. Chuuya has seen through him. He knows Dazai more than he knows himself too, after all. What a fucking pair they make. Chuuya refuses to laugh at the thought. He will start crying if he does. Dazai extends his hand till it's resting next to Chuuya's on the bed. Between them. Chuuya stretches his pinky finger and Dazai interlocks them all too quickly.
"Sometimes, I think Arahabaki is scared of you." Chuuya admits into the air between them. It's still. Neither of them are really breathing. The words are heavy and useless. Incoherent. It doesn't make sense, Chuuya knows, and yet the words left him anyway. Served themselves up on a silver platter for Dazai. Another weapon in his arsenal. Like he can't rip Chuuya apart with just his bare hands. Like he ever needed anything more.
Love is a violent thing, for Chuuya. It's violent and it's cruel and it's horrific. It hurts. But then again, what doesn't? He's already harbouring a god within him. What is love in the face of that? What is Arahabaki in the face of love? They are not opposing forces. It's not that simple. It never is. Because Chuuya isn't a person, apart from the fact that he is. And Arahabaki isn't a god, apart from the fact that it is.
In all the books Chuuya read, gods were not like this. Were not so merciless. Unforgiving. They were supposed to be benevolent. Merciful. Loving. They were not supposed to be whatever it is that Chuuya has swirling inside of him. There is a hunger gnawing at him all the time. It doesn't step past it's bounds, but it grows. It festers. It-- It's destructive. Of course it is. But--
It feels destructive too. Tastes like it. Tastes like love.
And it's horrific. It's terrible. It's gruesome and beautiful. It reminds him of Dazai.
It's the worst thing in the world.
Dazai's finger is tight around his, as he looks at Chuuya. Studies him. Like he's trying to figure something out. The touch is--
It's not nice. Not exactly. Having Arahabaki silent is something he's not used to. It's amazing. It's lonely. It's horrible. It's the best thing to ever happen. He doesn't know. Can't put it into words. Because Arahabki is loud. But it's loud in the way a bruise is. In a distant way. It's loud in the way hunger is. It's loud in the way dying is. It's loud in the way love is.
Dazai is waiting for Chuuya to explain. He knows this. Knows Dazai won't ask. Won't press. He never does, when it comes to Arahabaki. When it comes to the monster living inside Chuuya. When it comes to his saviour. Chuuya doesn't know if he or Arahabaki is more monstrous. He doesn't want to know.
And the thing is--
The thing is, that Arahabaki is not an ability. Not really. It's a god. It's not so limited. Chuuya is a vessel. He's not a person. He's a line of code and a body. He's not real. Neither is Arahabaki. And yet. And yet. When Dazai touches him, the god goes silent.
It doesn't go away. Chuuya doubts that's possible. It doesn't get nullified. As Dazai's ability is meant to do. It's just muted. That means, it's by choice. And what god choses to run away in the face of a human?
What god doesn't think it's more powerful than a person?
Either, Arahabaki isn't a god, or Dazai isn't a person.
Chuuya isn't sure which answer is better. Which is worse. Both are true, in a way. Except for the ways in which both are untrue. Maybe Chuuya is the reason. Chuuya who is a person and also isn't. Chuuya who exists, but only technically.
And Chuuya has been silent for too long he thinks. Dazai is still looking at him. There isn't a time where he isn't. Chuuya knows this. Knows this because he's always looking at Dazai too. There is nowhere else he can look.
"I didn't know gods could feel fear." Dazai says. Tentative. Curious. Still not pressing, but not just observing either. Chuuya knows any information he gives Dazai is ammunition. Is another sharpened knife.
But who else is going to kill him, if not Dazai? They will be the end of each other. There is no room for doubt in it. Chuuya would not die by anyone else's hands. Would not let Dazai. Not even if it were from Arahabaki.
And.
And maybe that's it. Or. Part of it, at least. That Arahabaki is not stronger than Dazai. That Dazai is not stronger than Arahabaki. But that Chuuya is weaker than them both.
Chuuya knows that Dazai has a great big void in him. A whole solar system of nothingness. Chuuya knows it eats at him. Thinks it's similar to the way Arahabaki is. Similar to the hunger inside of him. The destruction.
It's not nothingness, that Chuuya has. It's the opposite really. There is too much of something. Swirling in him. Eating at him. Consuming. Caressing. Loving. Cutting.
"I think." Chuuya says carefully, slowly, Arahabaki rises up, just a little, despite Dazai's touch. But it doesn't protest. Doesn't stop him. Chuuya has figured out the truth then. It's a horrible thing. All mangled and grotesque, and unfathomably pristine. Arahabaki sings under his blood. Chuuya doesn't mind it. It's familiar, after all. Comforting, almost, in the way a stab wound is.
"I think that gods feel everything there is to feel."
Dazai blinks at him, almost in shock. Almost in surprise. It's almost fake. Which means it's real. Almost. Dazai is made up almost entirely of them. Chuuya doesn't like certainties.
Dazai is figuring it out too. Is processing things much faster than Chuuya ever could. Ever will. But that's not important. Not right now. Time isn't real when it's only them here. When the truth surrounds them. Binds them. When gods aren't real, apart from when they are. When Dazai and Chuuya aren't real, apart from when they are. When there is nothing human, about any part of them. When they're so inhuman, the only thing for them to be, is human.
Because Arahabaki doesn't have emotions. Not in the way Chuuya does. Not in the way Dazai does. Regardless of how opposing both options are. Because Arahabaki is a god, because there's no such thing as gods, because there's no such thing as anything at all. Because whatever is inside of Dazai is real, but also isn't. Because Dazai is real, but also isn't.
Dazai exhales, wordlessly, like he understands.
The truth is always heavy. Is always a burden. Is always painful.
"Sometimes." Dazai whispers, and Chuuya knows whatever he's about to say is about to be destructive. Is about to be true. Is about to be real. "When you touch me, I think that I'm going to explode into a million little bits of fire."
And--
Chuuya has to learn how to breathe all over again. Even Arahabaki seems to withdraw further. Dazai doesn't mean his words to be taken as anything but literal.
Chuuya knows this. Understands that the void inside of Dazai is much larger than he thinks. Much larger than he can comprehend. Probably more than Dazai can comprehend too. But he does it anyway. Because there is no other way for Dazai to be. He's got an entire universe in him.
"I'm sorry that it's so painful." Chuuya says, despite knowing there is no other way for it to be. Love is always painful. It's the most painful thing to exist. And Chuuya and Dazai are both so full of it, it hurts so much more. He's not sorry for loving him. Not sorry that Dazai has all this love in him either. There is no other way for either of them to exist. It wouldn't be them. It wouldn't be existence.
But.
It hurts.
It hurts so fucking much.
Dazai's smile is soft and terrifying and gentle. Undoing. Arahabaki is screaming under Chuuya's skin. It's silent. Chuuya feels the something inside of him move. Feels it grow. Feels it try to move to Dazai. To meet Dazai's nothingness. They won't mix. They will destroy each other. They will complete each other. There is no other way for it to be. No other way for them to be.
He looks at Dazai, desperate, helpless. Dazai looks at him. Undoing. Undone. There is nothing but love. Chuuya's heart is in his throat. It tastes like shrapnel.
"Me too." Dazai whispers.