I'm not particularly dissatisfied with that but it is different from that dream I imagined
For some reason, it feels like I have this hole inside my heart, and I realized it,
So I'll put a period on this ordinary life of mine.
—Kororon
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April 2014
Dazai was in a theater.
He wasn't onstage, but the space was so crowded, the people so tightly packed, that it made his throat constrict. Onstage, dancers dressed as stars moved in tandem to music that Dazai could hardly make out over the din of the audience.
Dazai pushed through the throng and found himself back in the restaurant from last time, except where before it had been a diner, it was now a sushi joint. There was an aquarium in the corner with a pale blue tropical fish floating in the center of the tank, unmoving but undoubtedly alive. It stared at Dazai with its visible eye and said, " Overpass footbridge across Route 246. Tokyo has stars on the ground, it's raining in the city, a girl with a red umbrella walks—"
Dazai awoke in stages, as if he was deep underwater and rising slowly to the surface. Highway Slope cut off abruptly, and his eyes snapped open. The room was still too dim to make anything out clearly, so Dazai was momentarily disoriented.
Then Chuuya yelled, "I'm gonna fucking gut you, Dazai!" And Dazai remembered the alarm he'd set for 5 AM. I must really hate myself, he thought, mildly amused. Then again, the point of this was to piss off Chuuya, and in that regard, he'd been successful.
"Go ahead, munchkin. No one's stopping you," Dazai replied hoarsely.
Chuuya grumbled something unintelligible and fell silent again. A minute later, Dazai could hear him snoring softly. Dazai hated it, not because it annoyed him—the sound was oddly soothing—but because he was jealous. It wasn't fair that Chuuya could sleep so easily, and so deeply. It wasn't fair that Dazai couldn't.
Dazai managed to get another hour of sleep before waking up again, this time to bright, unrelenting sunlight. Chuuya must have just opened the blinds, and even though the sun wasn't directly on Dazai, the way it reflected off the white walls was enough to wake him thoroughly.
Chuuya was in the middle of getting ready for class, rummaging carelessly through his closet. It was only 7:30 now, so they still had a good hour and a half before Psych. Why Chuuya felt the need to get up so unnecessarily early, Dazai would never understand.
Chuuya left the room before 8, and Dazai immediately got up and closed the blinds before falling back into bed. He managed to catch a few more minutes of sleep before his stomach woke him again with an audible growl.
Dazai groaned and forced himself to get up and take a quick shower before wrapping himself in fresh bandages and dressing in the same outfit he'd worn to the last Psych class. He really couldn't be bothered to wear anything else, and his nicer clothes were now drenched in sweat and beer from his shift the previous night.
He left the dorm early enough to swing by his usual cafe, where he forced himself to eat most of a bagel, even though it tasted like ash in his mouth and nearly made him gag. He chased it with coffee, and tossed the last few bites on his way out the door.
Chuuya was already seated when Dazai arrived at the lecture hall. He glanced up as Dazai approached, gaze quickly sharpening into a fierce glare. There were subtle bags under his eyes, likely due to Dazai's alarm, and his t-shirt was inside out.
"Your shirt's inside out," Dazai said as he sat behind Chuuya. He yanked at the tag sticking out on the back of Chuuya's neck and added, "I can't believe you leave tags on your clothing. How barbaric."
Chuuya twisted around just to glare at him again. "I can't believe you don't," he shot back. "How do you remember what brand it is? And forgive me for being a little absentminded, someone decided to interrupt my sleep at 5 fucking AM."
"That's easy," Dazai replied, ignoring the second comment entirely. "I buy all of my clothes secondhand, so the brand doesn't matter."
"Of course you do," Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes. "How'd you guess the password this time, anyway?"
"Chuuya stayed after class in the Anatomy room," Dazai replied. "I didn't think much of it until I realized you must have known that talking to Mori about a seat change would get you nowhere, which meant you weren't staying back to talk to him, but to Yosano. You clearly wanted to get one over me by using her as a resource, and correctly guessed that she wouldn't bother telling me whatever information she gave you. Unfortunately, you underestimated me once again. Using my birthday as a password was unpredictable and, in theory, the last thing I'd expect you to do. Seeing as you're an unpredictable person, it made perfect sense that you'd try it, especially since you seem to need passwords that are linked to tangible things."
"Damn you," Chuuya muttered darkly. Dazai grinned smugly as he turned around to face the front, and continued to ignore Dazai until Kouyou appeared. Heeding her warning from last time, Dazai behaved himself throughout the entire class. The lecture itself was mostly introductory; they reviewed the chapter they'd been assigned to read, and covered some material from the second chapter.
"Read the rest of the second chapter and write a response for Monday," Kouyou told them. "Next week will be more of a seminar than a lecture, and I expect full participation from all of you."
Dazai groaned inwardly. He hated having to speak in front of the class. Just because he was good at public speaking didn't mean he enjoyed it, contrary to what most people thought. Talking to smaller groups was easy enough, especially when it was a topic Dazai knew inside and out, but this was new territory for him. It seemed he'd have to do more than just skim the readings for this class if he wanted to get by.
Dazai left the moment class ended, not bothering to check if Chuuya was leaving too. Rather than going straight back to the dorm, Dazai swung by the supermarket, since he knew that if he didn't get groceries now, he'd put it off for another week at the very least.
The supermarket wasn't particularly busy, but Dazai kept his trip as short as possible nonetheless. He grabbed canned crab first, along with some canned corn, since he knew that Yosano would be appalled if he didn't get a single vegetable. He located the instant ramen next, then hit the frozen food section, where he picked up a couple of breakfast burritos. As an afterthought he grabbed a bunch of bananas, just to round out his (abysmal) food pyramid. While he waited to checkout, he ended up selecting a chocolate bar from the shelf below the register. He usually preferred sour candy to sweet, but he supposed he might as well try something new. If he hated it, he could always give it to Ranpo later.
After checking out, Dazai returned to the dorm. Chuuya must have been out getting lunch or something. That's what most people did close to noon, right? Dazai had heard rumors about there being a second cafeteria that was reserved solely for student athletes and staff. He could practically imagine Chuuya eating his stupid fancy cafeteria food, probably full of nutrients that still wouldn't help him grow an inch. He'd be surrounded by his dumb jock friends, of course; that type tended to travel in packs, which was actually quite convenient for Dazai, seeing as that made them easier to avoid.
He put away the frozen food first before storing the canned crab and corn in the fridge, while the ramen and chocolate went into his desk drawer. Chuuya's side of the fridge contained nothing but a container of mixed berries. Yeah, this guy definitely doesn't make his own food, Dazai decided. Not that he could talk—the most he could cook was instant ramen, and occasionally egg and rice, though that was only when he had access to a kitchen.
Dazai wasn't sure where to put the bananas, so he ended up leaving them on top of the microwave after pulling one off. He peeled it open from the wrong side—he'd always found it to be easier that way, and the fact that it drove his friends nuts was certainly a bonus—before throwing himself onto his bed.
Suddenly remembering the text he'd received from Atsushi, Dazai checked his messages. It was a short text; it simply read, 'Are you free for lunch on Friday?' There was a follow up text that said, ' This is Atsushi, by the way!' as if Dazai didn't already have his contact in his phone.
On Friday Dazai had History of War until 12:50 and Philosophy at 2, but he was free in between. He sent a quick confirmation text to Atsushi and finished off his banana before making himself comfortable in bed. He was almost tired enough to nap, but he knew from experience that napping was never an easy feat. Instead he messed around on his phone until the silence began to feel too loud. When Dazai couldn't stand it any longer, he scrolled through his playlists for a few minutes in search of something to drown out the commotion, only to end up putting Virgin Suicide on repeat.
Again.
The funny thing was, Dazai never really got sick of songs. He cycled through them irregularly, often switching in between different genres just to keep things interesting. He liked a wide variety of music, and the songs he put on repeat often reflected the genre he was most attracted to at any given time.
Dazai could listen to the same song on repeat for months at a time before it became less effective at shutting out his thoughts. When that happened, he just had to figure out which of his favorites gave him the most serotonin, and then that would become his next target. The old song would fade into the background, still beloved but not so much obsessed over as it had been before.
It was the same as it was with everything in Dazai's life: food, clothes, and even the books he read. He had constants, but many of his favorites came and went in phases. There were only a few foods that were consistently safe for Dazai to consume—crab of any kind, in particular canned, being the main one—and the same went for his clothing, which had to be light enough to wear over bandages, flexible enough not to restrict his movement and a texture that didn't make him cringe (the last one was important, but also less relevant, seeing as the fabric didn't touch his skin directly for the most part).
When it came to books, Dazai generally cycled through the same 10 or 11 favorites that he owned. He reread them over and over, noticing new details each and every time. It comforted him to know exactly how everything would turn out, and that comfort allowed him to focus on other aspects of the story, like the intricacies of the plot and character development.
Essentially, Dazai knew what he liked. Yosano and Ranpo could tease him for being 'unoriginal' or 'picky' however much they wanted; it didn't change the fact that Dazai enjoyed very few things in life, and if those few things were enough to keep him going, then he'd hold onto them as tightly as he could, for as long as humanly possible.
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"Shake it up is all that we know, using the bodies up as we go, I'm waking up to a fantasy, the shades all around aren't the colors we used to see—"
Dazai jerked awake just as Out of Touch cut off suddenly. There was no yelling this time, just a long, drawn-out groan from across the room.
"I'm in hell," he heard Chuuya mumble. "And you're the devil."
"Aw, Chuuya!" Dazai gushed. "I didn't realize you thought so highly of me! Also," he added, "1992? Really?"
"I was out of ideas, okay?" Chuuya defended. "Besides, you know I need passwords to be connected to real numbers or else I don't remember them!"
"Poor shorty," Dazai said mournfully. "Your brain really is tiny, if that's such an issue for you." He expected Chuuya to yell, but his eventual response was surprisingly subdued.
"Die," Chuuya muttered. Dazai heard a rustling sound as Chuuya settled down again, and Dazai heard his breathing even out less than a minute later. He must have been seriously tired, to fall asleep that fast. Maybe Dazai's plan was working better than he'd thought.
Dazai would rather not admit it, but truthfully this whole alarm scheme was harder on Dazai than it was on Chuuya. Dazai had enough trouble sleeping as it was; each time the alarm went off, it took him a good 40 minutes at the very least just to get back to sleep.
But Dazai was no quitter, and anyway, this was just a temporary gig. He was sure he'd come up with something better , if he actually put his mind to it.
Think, Dazai. What would piss Chuuya off to such an extent that he either:
Beats up Dazai and gets kicked out of school orVoluntarily drops out?
Dazai could mess with his stuff. Shredding Chuuya's hat would probably be a step too far, and besides, then Dazai would no longer be able to make fun of it. He could hide all of Chuuya's underwear, but then there was a chance that Chuuya would retaliate by hiding something of his, and Dazai wasn't keen on losing any more clothing this year.
Desperate for inspiration, Dazai grabbed his phone from the nightstand and googled 'genius pranks to play on somebody you hate'. He scrolled for a bit before selecting a site recommending April Fool's pranks. Most of them were pretty tame, but one caught his eye.
' Replace the victim's shampoo with hair dye.'
There were a lot of issues with that idea, the main one being that Chuuya's hair was light enough that the dye would have to be dark, and Dazai doubted he could find one that would effectively pass as Chuuya's shampoo.
But maybe… if I use it as a misdirect, Dazai thought, maybe then I could pull something really good.
Something like— oh. Dazai smiled slowly. He knew exactly what to do.
Chuuya had no idea what was coming for him.
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Dazai had the morning off, so he got to work on the prank just after Chuuya left the dorm. It was only 11 now, and they didn't have Advanced Literature until 3:20, leaving him plenty of time to execute his plan.
Dazai started with the first part and made quick work of it before moving onto stage 2: the misdirect. He hummed as he dumped black hair dye into Chuuya's shampoo—which was a pale shade of orange—before closing the bottle and shaking it for a while. When he checked again, the shampoo had turned a dark, ugly greyish-brown. It looked like literal shit.
Dazai smiled, satisfied with his work, and then disposed of the evidence. Even if Chuuya didn't use the tainted shampoo, he'd have nothing to wash his hair with—Dazai highly doubted he'd steal Dazai's shampoo, since it was the cheapest brand that money could buy—and he'd have to skip a wash that would no doubt leave his hair looking gross the following day.
Dazai returned to his own side of the room and spent the remainder of the morning reading and blasting music in his headphones. He felt both tired and wired, and his attention span was awful, but he managed to get through a few chapters at least.
Chuuya returned close to 1. Dazai watched in his peripheral as Chuuya bustled about, unpacking his bag and removing his shoes and silly little hat. Then, something marvelous happened.
Dazai hadn't expected to see the fruits of his labors until later tonight, if not tomorrow, but there Chuuya was, gathering up his toiletry kit before heading out of their room once more.
Three minutes, Dazai guessed. Then he'll be back.
He watched the clock, whistling cheerfully along to his music, and sure enough, the moment it hit 1:07, Chuuya burst back into the room. He wore nothing but a towel tied around his waist, and Dazai forced himself to focus solely on his face, which wasn't all that hard because Chuuya was livid.
" DAZAI," Chuuya yelled, loud enough to be heard even through Dazai's headphones.
Dazai pulled off his headphones and grinned at Chuuya. "You called?"
Chuuya stalked over to Dazai's bed and grabbed his ankle before yanking him off the bed entirely. Dazai's head hit the floor with a clunk, and Chuuya released him before putting a foot on his chest. He was standing over Dazai, which unfortunately meant that Dazai could practically see straight up his towel. He managed not to look, and Chuuya must have realized the issue after a moment, because he scowled and gave one last hard press of his foot into Dazai's chest before releasing him. "Do you have any idea how much I pay for that shampoo?" Chuuya shouted at him. "Fucking bastard piece-of-shit mackerel!"
Dazai put his hands up innocently. "Oh? Did someone mess with Chuuya's shampoo?"
Chuuya's glare sharpened. "Don't you dare pretend it wasn't you," he snarled.
"Okay!" Dazai said cheerfully. "I won't."
Chuuya ground his teeth. His face was rage-red and twisted with fury. "I hate you so fucking much."
Dazai gave him a smarmy smile and pushed himself to his feet. "I hate you more," he replied. "I told you not to cross me. You should have heeded the warning."
Chuuya advanced towards Dazai and shoved him across the room until his back hit Chuuya's closet. "You are so, so dead," he hissed, jabbing a finger at Dazai's chest just like he had the first time they'd interacted. " I'm the one you shouldn't fucking cross, you disgusting waste of bandages. Watch your fucking back." Chuuya gave Dazai one last parting shove before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard. The sound made Dazai cringe, but it was still entirely worth it.
It would have been nice to get a more violent reaction out of Chuuya, but that would no doubt happen later. The second part of his prank was practically guaranteed to make Chuuya beat him up.
Dazai couldn't wait for Chuuya to put his hands on him again.
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Dazai left for class a few minutes after Chuuya did so that they wouldn't get stuck walking together again. When he arrived, most of the class was already present, including Kunikida. Dazai took the seat behind him once more—Hirotsu hadn't bothered assigning them seats, but most of the class had sat in the same spots as they had on Tuesday.
"Hello, Kuni-kida-kun~" Dazai sang. "How are you doing on this fine morning?"
Kunikida turned to stare at Dazai. "It's three in the afternoon."
"3:20, actually," Dazai corrected, and a vein bulged on Kunikida's forehead. "Aren't you a math teacher? For shame, Kunikida-kun!"
Kunikida took a deep breath, looking centimeters away from snapping. "Yes," he replied, voice strained, "which is why I tend to round things up or down, depending on the circumstances."
"Ah," Dazai responded dramatically. "How very wise of you!"
Kunikida scowled and turned to face the front just as Hirotsu entered the room. "Hello," he greeted, setting his messenger bag and a thermos on the desk. "I hope you're all having a good first week."
Dazai risked a chance at Chuuya, who looked predictably grouchy. Dazai suppressed a smirk and turned back to Hirotsu as he said, "I'm afraid it's time for us to get down to business. We'll be reading a variety of books from a handful of authors this year, primarily focusing on works by Yukio Mishima, Sushaku Endo, Nobuko Yoshiya and Haruki Murakami, among others." Hirotsu paused and took a sip from his thermos before continuing, "We'll be starting with one of Murakami's most renowned works, Kafka on the Shore. The book is common enough that it should be relatively easy to find in the school or public library, and I can recommend secondhand bookstores if you would rather have your own copy."
Dazai had heard quite a bit about Kafka on the Shore, and was somewhat curious about it; he'd read South of the Border, West of the Sun in his first year lit class and had despised the protagonist—how whiny and pathetic could one man be?—but he was certainly willing to give Murakami another try. As for the other authors, he'd heard of both Mishima and Endo, and had read Endo's Deep River, which he'd found enjoyable. He didn't know any works by Yoshiya, but he was certainly willing to give them a try.
Dazai mostly tuned out the rest of Hirotsu's lecture. It wasn't entirely on purpose; he really was exhausted from his shitty sleep habits. At the end of class, Hirotsu told them to read the first chapter of Kafka on the Shore by the following Tuesday.
Easy, thought Dazai. He could read the entire bookby Tuesday, if he wanted to.
(If his brain cooperated, that was.)
Class got out at 5:40, leaving Dazai just about 20 minutes to get to Bar Lupin before his shift began. Ango was leaving when Dazai arrived, and held the door for Dazai, which was considerate of him (not that Dazai minded picking the lock, but the more he had to, the more likely it was that Natsume would find out he lost his key).
"See you tomorrow," Ango called as he left.
"See ya!" Dazai chirped before heading inside.
He changed quickly in the backroom before joining Oda at the bar. It was fuller than it had been during Dazai's Tuesday shift, probably since a lot of students avoided scheduling classes on Fridays, which essentially made Thursday their equivalent of a Friday. In Dazai's experience, it was usually pretty calm up until about 10, which was when both he and Oda got off. Poor Taneda worked the shift after them—technically on his own, but Natsume often showed up when things got really busy.
Dazai joined Oda at the bar and made himself busy taking orders and making drinks. It was practically automatic for him at this point. He didn't really get to talk to Oda, except during the occasional lull, but that was fine; Dazai would see him and Ango both in class tomorrow, and they'd have more time to catch up then.
"Any luck with the roommate situation?" Oda asked at one point.
Dazai grinned. "Now that you mention it—"
Oda eyed Dazai. "What did you do?"
"Nothing!" Dazai replied indignantly. "Well, apart from setting daily 5 AM alarms. Also, I put hair dye in his shampoo." He didn't mention the second part of the prank; he doubted Oda would approve of it.
Oda looked simultaneously disapproving and amused. "Don't get in trouble," he warned Dazai.
"Don't worry," Dazai assured him. "That stupid little slug isn't going to get me in trouble for something like this."
Hopefully.
Oda looked dubious, but all he said was, "Good luck with that."
After their shift ended, they parted ways, Dazai whistling along to his music as he strolled back to the dorm. Chuuya was still at his desk when Dazai returned, scribbling furiously in his notebook. There were no textbooks in sight, which meant he was probably writing shitty poetry or something like that. Dazai was sorely tempted to take a peek over his shoulder, but he refrained. I'll steal his journal another time, he decided.
Chuuya ignored his presence entirely as Dazai changed into baggy sweats and an oversized hoodie. Part 2 of the plan wouldn't be set into motion until Chuuya got ready for bed, so all Dazai had to do now was wait.
He ended up eating half a can of crab for dinner, leaving the other half in the fridge for later. Close to 11:30, Chuuya finally got up and grabbed his toiletry bag before leaving the room. Dazai smirked as the door clicked shut behind him.
Two minutes, he predicted. Maybe three max.
Sure enough, exactly two minutes and twenty seconds later, Chuuya burst into the room, face twisted with fury. " SHITTY DAZAI," he spat, stalking over to Dazai and grabbing the front of his hoodie. He shook Dazai harshly and yelled, "What the fuckwere you thinking?"
Dazai smiled, sickly-sweet, and said, "Oh, did Chuuya not like my present?"
"Who the fuck would?" Chuuya snapped. "You put fucking mayonnaise in my toothpaste!"
Dazai blinked at him innocently. "You don't like that flavor combination? That's disappointing."
Chuuya growled and shook him again. "I can't fucking believe you," he snarled. "What kind of person pulls some shit like that?"
Dazai shrugged nonchalantly. "Me, I suppose."
Chuuya released him roughly. "You're a fucking sociopath," he retorted, looking disgusted.
"Tell me something I don't know," Dazai replied easily. "Now would you mind getting out of my way?"
Chuuya sneered. "Going to brush your teeth?"
"With toothpaste," Dazai agreed. "I don't use mayonnaise, unlike some people."
"You—!"
"See ya, shorty!" Dazai sang as he hopped off the bed and shoved Chuuya aside before grabbing his toiletries and leaving the room. He could hear Chuuya swearing loudly behind him even after the door swung shut.
There's nothing like seeing a good scheme play out successfully, Dazai thought, and smiled to himself.
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Maybe it was karma, Dazai thought miserably later that night. It was just past two in the morning, and sleep had yet to take him. He probably deserved this.
His brain still buzzed with thoughts, but the rest of him was utterly numb. He'd felt this before, of course. It certainly wasn't depression—Dazai didn't feel at all sad, just…apathetic. Cold.
Empty.
He really didn't know why this happened. It wasn't always like this; he was capable of feeling happiness, briefly. He was capable of feeling anger, and even sadness on rare occasions. He felt excitement when he was looking forward to seeing his friends, and annoyance each and every time he looked at Chuuya.
But then this would happen. The void consumed the few emotions he experienced, leaving him just a little more dead inside each and every time it occurred. Maybe if he were human it wouldn't be a problem.
Maybe if he were human he'd feel something that wasn't nothing.
I hate this dry life
I want an end
—Dr.
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On Friday morning, Dazai force-fed himself a banana before sprinting to his first class, History of War. He'd slept terribly the previous night, plagued by tumultuous dreams he could hardly remember. There was one part where a cockatoo attacked him relentlessly, leaving long claw marks down the length of Dazai's back and welts along his arms. There was also a bit where Dazai encountered a guy he'd gone to high school with. He'd never done anything particularly bad to Dazai, but Dazai had a gun. He shot the guy three times, and then kept shooting even after he was dead.
It wasn't by far the most disturbing thing Dazai had dreamed of, but it rattled him nonetheless. Then he'd woken up to the jarring sound of HINTO's Omake ni Android at 5 AM, and hadn't fallen back asleep after. Most likely as a result of that, the radio in his head was cranked to full volume, unrelenting noise bombarding his brain.
Ranpo and Yosano were already seated at the back of the lecture hall when Dazai arrived just after 11. Thankfully, the professor didn't appear to be present yet.
He slid into the seat on Yosano's left as Ranpo drawled, "You look like shit."
Yosano examined Dazai for a long moment before asking, "When's the last time you slept?"
Dazai frowned. "Uh, last night?"
"She meant, when's the last time you slept well?"Ranpo clarified.
Dazai raised an eyebrow at him, bemused despite his exhaustion. "Do you really want to know?"
Yosano sighed. "Seriously, Dazai? Have you tried, I don't know, melatonin or something?"
"Yep!" Dazai replied cheerfully. "It made my nightmares unbearably frightening. Too scary by far!" He may have acted blasé, but truthfully his melatonin dreams were horrifying. He'd been brutally murdered in too many of them to count, and Dazai's dislike for pain extended to his dreams.
Yosano opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a loud, authoritative voice rang out from the front.
"Greetings, class! And welcome to History of War!" Their professor was incredibly tall, with unruly, pale grey hair and a mustache to match. He looked eccentric, to say the least. "My name is Fukuchi Ochi, and I will be your professor this year. I am veryexcited to share the complexities and horrors of war with such impressionable young minds!"
"This dude has a few screws loose, in case you couldn't tell," Ranpo mumbled to Dazai and Yosano. He spoke as if he knew the professor already; perhaps because Fukuchi's reputation preceded him?
Fukuchi began by taking roll. When he reached Ranpo's name, he grinned. "Ranpo-kun!" He exclaimed. "I didn't know you'd be taking my class!"
"You've been bothering me about it for years, are you really so surprised?" Ranpo replied.
Fukuchi chortled. "Indeed I have been! Glad to see you finally saw the light."
He returned to taking roll as Yosano whispered, "What the hell, Ranpo?"
"He's a family friend," Ranpo mumbled in reply.
"You totally wanted to take this class because you know you can afford to slack off, huh?" Dazai commented.
Ranpo grinned. "Yep!"
Once he'd taken roll, Fukuchi passed out the syllabus. Reviewing it took up a good chunk of time, and once they were finished with that, Fukuchi boomed, "Your first unofficial assignment is a partner project. Because I'm so nice, I'll even let you choose your partners!"
Dazai immediately looked at Ranpo and Yosano pleadingly, but both of them instantly shook their heads. "Absolutely not," Ranpo declared in a whisper.
"Yeah, sorry Dazai," Yosano muttered, "but we both know that's a bad idea."
"But guyyys," Dazai whined. "Who am I supposed to partner with?"
Ranpo silently pointed at a guy in the front with long, shaggy lilac-and-white hair. While most of the students sat in pairs or alone, he was sitting with two other guys, but it appeared that they had already chosen each other, leaving bicolor-haired guy as the odd one out.
"You're both the third wheel," Yosano said, snickering quietly. "That's perfect."
Dazai huffed. "I can't believe you're making me partner with a stranger. He's probably a weirdo!"
"If anyone's the weirdo, it's you," Ranpo pointed out. "Besides, there's plenty of other options. I have a good feeling about that one, though." When Dazai raised an eyebrow he added, "I bet he'll do most of the work. Looks like a goody-two-shoes, doesn't he?"
"Go ahead and pair up," Fukuchi announced.
Dazai shot one last dirty look at Ranpo and Yosano before heading towards the front of the room. He tapped the bicolor-haired guy on the shoulder and put on a charming smile. "Excuse me!" He said loudly.
Bicolor-haired guy turned to look at Dazai disdainfully. "Can I help you?"
Dazai's smile widened. This guy will be fun to mess with, he thought before he could stop himself. "Would you like to be my partner?"
The guy sighed. "Fine. I'm Sigma."
What a weird name. "Dazai," Dazai introduced, sliding into the desk beside Sigma's.
One of the guys on Sigma's other side peered over at Dazai. He had fluffy white hair, and a long braid trailing down his back. "Oho! Who's this, Sigma?" His voice had a slight accent, one that Dazai couldn't quite place. It sounded vaguely Russian.
Sigma grimaced. "My partner."
"Don't look so miserable, Sigma~" Dazai chirped. "We'll have fun together! I'm Dazai, by the way," he added to the white haired guy.
"Nikolai," the guy replied, "and this here is Fyodor!" He gestured grandly at the guy on his other side, who had straight, dark shoulder-length hair and odd, magenta eyes, reminiscent of both Yosano and Mori's. They were closer to Mori's, really—simultaneously aloof and cunning—where Yosano's held a distinct warmth.
He might be a threat, Dazai mused, examining Fyodor. "Pleased to meet you," was all he said.
"Likewise," Fyodor replied coolly. He had an accent as well, similar to Nikolai's, but closer to the type of Russian accent Dazai was familiar with.
Fukuchi got their attention once again. He was even louder and larger up close. "Now that you're all paired up, the interrogation may begin!" He announced. He passed out a paper to each pair and continued, "Answer each question to the best of your ability, and write down your partner's answers! Easy, right?" He paused dramatically before saying, "Wrong! Because before you give the answer to the question, you must guess each others' answers, and the partner who gets the most correct wins the battle!" Dazai internally thanked Fukuchi for his genius icebreaker. "Begin now," Fukuchi added, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll be over here if you need me." he retreated to the desk at the front of the room and kicked his feet up on the table, opening a book that Dazai recognized as The Art of War.
What a guy.
Dazai turned to Sigma. "You ready to start, partner?"
Sigma looked vaguely nauseated. "I would prefer it if you didn't call me that."
"Sure thing, Sigmaaa~" Dazai cooed.
Sigma muttered something under his breath about Dazai being 'worse than the clown'—which, rude,whatever that meant — before reading off the first question. "Where are you from?"
Dazai grinned. "I don't know, Sigma-kun, where am I from?"
Sigma narrowed his eyes at Dazai and hummed. "You seem like a city person. Tokyo?"
Dazai's grin widened. "Wrong! I'm from Kanagi." At Sigma's perplexed expression he added, "it's a small town up north. Close to Sapporo."
"Ah," Sigma said, understanding. "That's…nice?"
Dazai shrugged. "I only lived there until the age of eight, so I don't remember much." It was only a partial lie. "Now let me guess: you're from…" he hummed, considering. "Definitely somewhere in Tokyo, seeing as it was the first city you thought of, not to mention both close to Yokohama and large enough that the odds of you being from there are greatly increased. Hmmm. You're from Shinjuku?"
"Yes, how'd you know?" Sigma said, surprised.
"You seem like a Shinjuku guy," Dazai replied.
Sigma eyed him. "What does that mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like!" Dazai said cheerfully. "Next question is favorite food. I'm gonna hazard a guess and say you like cookies," he added thoughtfully. "Am I right?"
"Yes," Sigma said, sounding suspicious. "Are you secretly a stalker?"
Dazai shrugged. "No, but you seem like a cookie guy."
"What does that mean?" Sigma asked, exasperated.
"Exactly what it sounds like," Dazai repeated. "Your turn!"
Sigma sighed. "I don't know. You seem like you'd like candy, I guess. Maybe chocolate?"
Dazai automatically thought of Chuuya as he shook his head. "Wrong again! My favorite food is canned crab."
"How the fuck was I supposed ot get that from you?" Sigma muttered, sounding irked.
"Next question," Dazai announced, "is: 'how do you feel about war?'"
"What kind of question is that?" Sigma asked critically.
"You dislike it, eh?" Dazai guessed.
Sigma nodded. "Of course. You don't?"
"Is that your guess?" Dazai asked.
"...Sure," Sigma replied.
"It's more complicated than that," Dazai said after a moment of thought. "I think war is horrible for the most part, but sometimes it is, unfortunately, a necessary evil. Hating war won't stop it, but maybe understanding it will."
Sigma stared at him. "You're weird."
"So I've heard!" Dazai exclaimed. "Now, the next question is…"
They continued through the question sheet, Dazai successfully guessing each of Sigma's answers. The only one that Sigma guessed correctly was whether or not Dazai had a girlfriend (specifically he said 'definitely not', which was quite insensitive of him. Dazai considered lying and saying he had a girlfriend, but there was a chance Yosano or Ranpo would overhear, and they'd never let him hear the end of that).
Halfway through their class, the door burst open. The woman—girl?—who stood in the doorway couldn't have been more than 140 centimeters tall, but her presence was large, maybe even more so than Fukuchi's.
"Hello!" She chirped. "Sorry I'm late!"
Fukuchi brightened and pushed himself out of his seat. "Oh, yes, I forgot to mention," he said, turning to the class. "Teruko-kun will be our teaching assistant this year! Please give her a warm welcome!"
"Hello," the class chorused half-heartedly.
Teruko beamed. "It's a pleasure to meet you all! I'm sure we'll have fun together." Her smile was slightly manic.
She ended up perched on Fukuchi's desk for the remainder of their class, chatting with Fukuchi and kicking her legs in the air. Despite the fact that she was far shorter even than Chuuya, Dazai would never call her short, at least not to her face. He had a feeling that a beating from her would hurt a lot more than one from Chuuya.
Fukuchi released them a bit early—normally the class went until 12:50, but it was only 12:30 when Fukuchi announced that he was 'officially out of day one material'. Sigma trailed Nikolai and Fyodor out of the room, waving briefly at Dazai on his way out (which seemed big, at least for him).
Dazai shot a text to Atsushi to let him know he'd gotten out early, and Atsushi replied, ' meet in 15?'along with the name of a cafe nearby. Dazai sent him back a thumbs up before joining Ranpo and Yosano. "I'm meeting a friend for lunch soon," he informed them. "Not that either of you would care."
They both stared at him, and Yosano said, incredulously, "You have other friends?"
" Rude," Dazai complained, "and yes, I happened to make friends with a first year named Atsushi the other day!"
"Oh, Nakajima?" Ranpo replied. "I know him. Kinda. He's friends with Kyouka," he explained. Dazai had only met Kyouka a handful of times. She was Ranpo's unofficial adopted sibling—technically, they'd both been adopted by the same guy, who Dazai had yet to meet despite the fact that he'd known Ranpo for literal years (to be fair, Oda and Ango hadn't met him either. Yosano had, but Dazai wasn't too salty about that, seeing as Ranpo and Yosano had been friends for far longer than he'd known either of them. He'd never asked them exactly how long, but he got the sense that Ranpo was the closest thing to a family Yosano ever had).
"Oh, I remember seeing him with her," Yosano recalled now. "The guy with the horrible haircut, right?"
Ranpo snickered. "Yep, that's him."
"I think his hair is nice," Dazai defended. At Ranpo and Yosano's skeptical looks he amended, "Well, he pulls it off anyway."
"He's a nice kid," Yosano said thoughtfully. "Try not to corrupt him."
Dazai let out a scandalized gasp. "I would never!"
"Sure," Yosano said, rolling her eyes. "I've gotta get to the hospital, but I'll text you."
"I'll come with," Ranpo chimed in. "I'm meeting Poe and Mushitarou at the library, so it's on my way anyway." He waved at Dazai, who made a shoo-ing motion in return. Ranpo just grinned in response and let Yosano drag him away.
Dazai showed up to the cafe a few minutes early, so he went ahead and got himself a coffee before finding them a table by the window. Atsushi showed up soon after, heading straight over to Dazai once he spotted him.
"Atsushi-kun!" Dazai greeted with a smile. "How are you on this fine day?"
"I'm good," Atsushi said, hesitantly sitting across from Dazai. "I had class this morning."
"Oh? What class?" Dazai asked.
"Biology," Atsushi replied. "It's my favorite class right now. I might end up majoring in it, or maybe zoology. I'm not really sure yet."
"You like animals?" Dazai guessed.
Atsushi's eyes lit up. "I love animals! Tigers are my favorite, but all animals are great, especially big cats."
Dazai listened patiently as Atsushi ranted about animals for a few minutes before suggesting they order. Atsushi ordered chazuke—a strange choice, but then again Atsushi was a strange guy—while Dazai got himself a crab salad. He paid for them both, of course; that was the whole reason they'd gone out, after all.
They ate in comfortable silence, and only once Atsushi had finished his meal did he ask, "What's your major, Dazai-san?"
"I'm a Japanese Lit major," Dazai replied.
"Oh! That's cool," Atsushi exclaimed. "Do you read a lot?"
Not these days. "Sure," Dazai answered.
"What's your favorite book?" Atsushi asked easily.
Dazai hummed. "There's really too many to count, but one of my very favorites is The Complete Manual of Suicide by Wataru Tsurumi!"
Atsushi blanched. "Dazai-san," he said hesitantly, "are you…suicidal?"
"Only in theory these days, not in practice," Dazai assured him. "For now at least."
"Oh," Atsushi said, sounding relieved. "That's good to hear."
"I suppose so," Dazai replied. "What's your favorite book, Atsushi-kun?"
Atsushi brightened. "I like The Picture of Dorian Grayby Oscar Wilde!"
"Ah, I know that one!" Dazai said, surprised. "I read that in my first year of college. It was assigned reading, but I thought it was an excellent story."
Atsushi smiled. "I know, right? I loved the horror elements, and the queer subtext is great too."
Dazai tilted his head. He hadn't noticed any queer subtext when he'd read the book, but he wasn't about to let Atsushi catch on to that. "I think so too," he said instead before changing the subject. "What other classes are you in right now?"
Atsushi prattled on about his classes—apparently he was horrible at math, so he was in search of a math tutor. Dazai promised to let him know if he heard of any. They stayed at the cafe for a while longer, their conversations mainly revolving around school, but occasionally delving into their mutual friendships as well. They talked until Dazai checked the time and realized he had only ten minutes until his next class began.
On their way out the door, Atsushi said, "If you'd like, I can pay for lunch next time!"
Dazai smiled. "Thank you, Atsushi-kun. I'd like that. Text me whenever, okay?"
"Sure," Atsushi said, smiling sweetly. "See you later!"
"See you later, Atsushi-kun!" Dazai replied cheerfully, waving his whole arm as he walked away. Atsushi waved back, grinning, and Dazai couldn't help but smile. How precious.
It was almost two by the time Dazai made it to class. Reason and Inquiry: Intermediate Philosophy was in a tiny, dingy classroom in the basement of one of the oldest buildings on campus. Oda and Ango were both seated already, as was Fyodor from Dazai's History of War class. Dazai gave him a fake smile as he passed him on his way to Oda and Ango, which Fyodor returned.
"How are you, Dazai?" Ango asked as Dazai slid into the seat beside Oda.
"Fine," Dazai replied.
"You look tired," Oda commented. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"
Dazai laughed. "When am I not?"
Ango tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Have you tried—"
"Melatonin? Herbal tea? A glass of warm milk? Yes," Dazai said impatiently. "I've tried it all." The warm milk was a lie, but the rest he really had tried. "Any other suggestions?"
Ango shrugged helplessly. "You'd know more about that than me," he relented.
"Are you still setting 5 AM alarms for Chuuya?" Oda asked pointedly.
Ango frowned. "You're what?"
"Yes, but that's necessary!" Dazai insisted. "How else am I supposed to get him to drop out of school?"
Ango pinched his nose and sighed. "Dazai, are you sure that's the best idea? I mean, it doesn't seem like it's working, does it?"
"Well, I almost got him to hit me last night!" Dazai defended. "I put mayonnaise in his toothpaste. He didn't like that very much." He hadn't planned on telling Oda about that one, but it kind of just came out.
Oda gave him a disapproving look. "That's going a bit far, don't you think?"
Dazai sighed. "I knew you'd say that."
"He's right," Ango told Dazai. "What if he was allergic to mayonnaise?"
Dazai snorted. "What kind of nerd is allergic to mayonnaise?"
"You're missing the point," Ango shot back. "Why do you want him to drop out so bad, anyway? Is he really so awful to live with?"
Dazai groaned. "Of course he is! Do you really think I'd put so much effort into getting rid of him if he weren't?"
Ango and Oda exchanged a look, and Oda said, "The grudge does seem a bit…unfounded."
"Odsakuuu," Dazai whined. "I have every reason to dislike Chuuya! He's loud and annoying and violent and he smells bad!" The last part was untrue, but Dazai had to convince them somehow. "You both know how sensitive I am to that stuff!"
Ango sighed. "Nothing we say is going to stop you." It was more of a statement than a question.
Dazai snapped his fingers and beamed. "Exactly! I'm so glad you understand."
"I understand nothing," Ango muttered, but Dazai ignored the comment.
Their professor showed up at 1:59. He had long, white hair and strange red eyes. "My name is Shibusawa Tatsuhiko," he announced, scanning the rows of desks to meet each of their eyes in turn. "This class is intermediate level philosophy, but taking a philosophy class prior to this is not a requirement, provided you can keep up with the course load." He paused dramatically before adding, "If you think you can't keep up after reviewing the syllabus, I'd like to request that you drop this class as soon as possible. I have no time for anyone who isn't willing to put in the work."
One student quietly got up and left at that, and a few others followed. Shibusawa waited until they'd left the room and shut the door behind them before grinning. "Great! Now that that's done, I believe it's time to review the syllabus."
The syllabus didn't seem particularly daunting, but even so, two more people left after reviewing it, leaving only fourteen students in the room. Dazai had to admit he was a bit impressed with Shibusawa's efforts to filter out the students not fit for his class; the method was manipulative and borderline cruel, but certainly effective.
"We will begin the year studying ancient philosophy," Sibusawa announced. "Please read chapters 2 and 3 of your textbook by next week. Chapter 1 is introductory, and unnecessary to read, so don't worry about that." He droned on for a bit about the various topics they would cover, blah blah blah. Dazai tuned most of it out; he trusted that Oda and Ango would make sure he did the work, anyway.
Shibusawa released them soon after that. It was close to 3:30—Dazai must have tuned out more than he'd thought—and Oda's shift at Bar Lupin began at 4, so he went straight there. Ango left for the library, claiming he was already overwhelmed and needed a quiet place to study that wasn't his and Oda's apartment, while Dazai returned to his room, which was unfortunately occupied by a very restless Chuuya.
"Did someone lace your coffee with cocaine?" Dazai asked him, throwing his bag onto the floor in front of his closet and gesturing at Chuuya's hand, which was dexterously spinning his pen rapidly enough to make Dazai dizzy.
Chuuya glared at him. "Like you can talk," he retorted. "Your foot's been tapping for a full minute now. Knock it off before I kill you."
Dazai hadn't even noticed. "I was doing it on purpose, obviously!" He lied. "Why, is it pissing you off?"
Chuuya scowled. "How'd you get my password today, asshole?" He said, changing the subject abruptly.
Dazai raised an eyebrow. "Believe it or not, it took me a few tries. By my third guess, I figured it had to be a word this time—translated into numbers, of course—and one you use frequently at that. Once I had that much, it was simple. Maybe if you swore less I wouldn't have gotten it," he added, just to piss Chuuya off further.
"'Fuck' isn't even Japanese!" Chuuya argued. "Are you really so familiar with English?"
Dazai gave him a deadpan look. "No, I only know English swear words," he said sarcastically. "What do you think?"
Chuuya flushed. "Shut it," he muttered. "You won't get the next one, I'll make sure of it."
"Whatever you say, shorty."
The pillow hit Dazai in the stomach hard enough to make him wince, but it was very much worth it.
▝■▙▚▛■▜▞▟■▘
Dazai left for work around 7:50. He worked the shift in between Oda's and Ango's alongside Taneda on Fridays; Oda worked the opening shift, and Ango the closing one. It was mildly disappointing that they couldn't be there at the same time, but it's not like they'd have time to hang out, anyway. Friday nights were by far their busiest, closely followed by Saturdays.
The first two hours of the shift weren't so bad. Dazai was just busy enough that he had no time to think, but not so busy that he felt like collapsing every other minute. Sometime around 10, a group of college students came in, clearly already wasted and far rowdier than the other patrons. Dazai hated them on sight—they were far too loud, and why were they all wearing disgusting cologne— so of course they all decided to take up residence at the bar, instead of one of the smaller tables lining the room. One guy was chewing gum, smacking his lips loudly and regularly blowing ridiculously large bubbles. The sound made Dazai want to kill every single person in the bar (but most of all himself).
All of the guys ordered cheap beer, while the girls (there were only three of them, and all of them were hanging off of various guys in their group) ordered fruity cocktails. Dazai could feel himself starting to lag; his thoughts were still sharp, but his body was exhausted, and it showed in his movements.
"You look young," one of the guys commented when Dazai passed over his beer. "Are you even old enough to work here?"
Dazai gave him a flat look, not bothering to play nice. "I wouldn't work here if I weren't."
The guy sneered and leaned across the bar, jostling his beer in the process and spilling a few drops on the counter. Dazai went to wipe them up automatically, but as he reached out the guy caught his wrist.
Dazai stiffened. "Let go of me," he said evenly.
The guy poked at Dazai's bandaged forearm, visible thanks to his rolled up sleeves. "What's the deal with these?"
Dazai twisted his arm out of the guy's hold and stepped out of reach. "None of your business. Now leave before I get my manager and report you for harassing me." Natsume wouldn't arrive for another hour at least, but this guy didn't have to know that.
By now the rest of his group was watching them, eyes tracing Dazai's arms. Their attention made his skin prickle uncomfortably.
The guy scowled. "You think that's harassment? I'll show you harassment—"
"What's going on over here?" Taneda cut in, stepping between Dazai and the bar.
"I asked him to leave," Dazai informed Taneda.
Taneda frowned, and for a split second Dazai thought he'd ask him why. He didn't, though. Taneda was a smart man, and he knew that Dazai would never ask a customer to leave unless they were crossing a line.
"Leave," Taneda told them firmly, voice cold. "Now."
The guy huffed and pushed away from the bar, not bothering to argue with Taneda. Taneda was tall enough for the intimidation tactics to work more often than not, which was lucky for Dazai, because as intimidating as he could make himself, he still wasn't as effective as the larger man.
"Thanks," Dazai told Taneda as the rest of the group followed their obnoxious friends out.
"Don't worry about it," Taneda said dismissively. "Yell if you need me, all right?"
"Will do," Dazai confirmed as Taneda returned to his side of the bar.
The rest of Dazai's shift passed without incident, but even so, by the time Dazai left he was utterly drained. He stumbled back to the dorm and dragged himself up the stairs and down the hall to his door before realizing he'd left his key in the room. Dazai groaned and pulled out his bobby pins, fiddling with the lock for a few long seconds until he heard it click.
Dazai pushed open the door and practically threw himself inside. He was too tired to attempt eating anything, even though he knew he should, and his bananas would soon be too ripe for his fragile taste buds to handle. He only barely remembered to set an alarm for Chuuya (thank goodness he'd figured out the password Chuuya would use earlier in the day, seeing as his brain could hardly function now) before climbing straight into bed.
Maybe I won't dream tonight, Dazai thought. But then, I could never be so lucky.