Chapter Text
Dazai-San, are you feeling alright?”
Dazai snapped out of his whimsy filled daydreams to focus on his favourite (he’d have to say that in front of Aktugawa) little mentee. Atsushi looked up, large eyes filled with that soft sort of concern, gentle without being demeaning or pitying. A wave of what a normal person would probably call affection rippled through him, warming him up more than any cheap alcohol would.
Ahhh, he was getting old. That was the only possible explanation for this shameful sort of sentimentality.
When he had recruited Atsushi, he hadn’t thought of much beyond a promise to an old friend, and a vow to protect a city. He looked at a starving child and had remembered another, hungry and powerful that he had beaten into a weapon. Thought about Chuuya and the legend of Soukoku, and how Yokohama was under threat and maybe it was time for that legend to be overwritten.
He’d thought what he had thought every day since he left the Port Mafia, ‘what would Odasaku do’ and the answer was normally to help people.
Maybe if he fakes being good long enough it’ll become habit.
But it was different with Atsushi, too foolish and hurt to have any kind of tact or guile. He wasn’t as easy to wind up as Kunikida, nor as resistant to his machinations as Ranpo. He wasn’t as naive as Kenji’s simple nature or as insightful as Yosano. He hadn’t known Dazai long enough to loose faith in him, but shyly peeked at him whenever he contributed something, hoping for his approval or input.
He had been so nervous the first time Atsushi had asked for him to check over something, remembering Aktugawa’s desperate clawing for his approval, but Atsushi’s was an entirely different beast. He was overjoyed that Dazai liked his work, but he wasn’t reliant on it. If anything, it felt like he was trying to help Dazai, prove to him that his investment in the young boy was worthwhile.
It was safer, in the agency. He could show affection to Atsushi without the boy being marked as a target, and if he ever was to slip into old habit, the young were tiger had enough goodwill around the office that they were sure to bar him from it. Atsushi’s gentle nature had endeared him to the entire agency, and they were sure to protect him, even from their own.
Ahhh, but it was so nice to have such a sweet little student. Someone who was stupid enough to see any kind of redeeming values in Dazai, and believed in him. Stressful, and guilt inducing but also horrifically heartwarming. He had tried to poke him towards Kunikida initially, but the blonde man, too insightful sometimes had picked up on it and shouted at him to take responsibility for his own stray.
It felt wrong. Like being close to him would burn that kindness out of Atsushi. But he was starting to think that that was impossible. By all accounts he should be just as dark, just as twisted as anyone else. He should have left that hellscape of an orphanage covered in blood and raging at the worst, desperate for some sort of retribution. What was it Chuuya had said once, lips red and wet with wine and blood? “Hurt people will only ever hurt people.”
But Atsushi hadn’t given into that. So afraid of his own aggression and failings, so desperate to save people like nobody had saved him. Seeing a young girl, breaking under the weight of her own sins, and dragging her into the light alongside him.
“A flower that blooms in the darkness will only thrive in the darkness, huh?” he thought, still bitter over the old catchphrase that rung in his head. He wanted to drag Atsushi in front of everyone who said that and demand an explanation. Say that ‘he was like us, he was hurt and fragile and powerful and the only thing it gave him was a need to stop others from hurting.’ He saw all those words about being born into violence and for the first time heard how much it sounded like an excuse. He had had a choice, at 7, at 10, at 15. No good choices, but he had chosen the worst one anyway. He wanted to scream that ‘good people exist and I’ve met them, and I’m keeping this one safe.’
“Dazai-San? Can you hear me? Did you eat those mushrooms again?”
Whoops, he had forgotten to respond. He let out a carefree laugh that was only a little fake and patted Atsushi, ruffling his hair into a scruffy sort of sticky-up style, enjoying the younger boys squawking as he tried to poke it back into submission.
“Ahhhh, Atsushi-Kun, so worried over his foolish mentor, don’t you know that a suicidal maniac like me is always attentive and alert! Now, what happened!”
Atsushi laughed like bells.
“Kunikida-San said that you had to finish the paperwork by 02:00pm, and it’s almost 03:00pm. I think you should start getting your excuses ready.”
Pressing a hand against his head and waxing poetic about how languished and overworked he was, Dazai enjoyed the smile on the younger boys face, before sliding his paperwork neatly into a garbage bin and stretching on the desk, preparing for a nap. He kept an ear out and heard Atsushi sigh, not without fondness, and fish out at least the most important documents. A while later he heard a familiar scratching and hid a smile behind his arm. Yosano and Ranpo both teased Atsushi for indulging his lazy superior but Atsushi laughed it off.
Not in the mood to hear Kunikida’s shouting Dazai decided to blow off the rest of the day, and decided to sneak out the window, shouting loudly about a new suicide technique and how he needed to pick up his dog. Yosano teasingly threw a knife after him while Kenji just threw out a request for him to pick up a beef bowl. Atsushi waved with a reminder to be careful and come back soon.
Rather than actually put effort into his wandering, he just stretched out on a nice sun warmed beam, just out of sight. Well, Ranpo probably (definitely) knew where he was, but he also didn’t care enough to expose him.
“Maah, Atsushi, why do you fall for all Dazai’s tricks. You’re not that stupid you know.”
Dazai’s ears metaphorically pricked up. Ranpo probably wanted him to overhear this conversation anyway, so there was no need to feel any semblance of guilt. Dazai prepared for some sickly sweet answer along the lines of ‘Oh Dazai-San brought me to the agency so I owe him!’.
“Oh, just because Dazai-San is a good person. I don’t mind helping him out a little.”
The sheer shock behind Atsushi’s statement almost knocked Dazai off his perch. Maybe if this was earlier, and Atsushi knew him less he could card this down as simple naïveté, but really, Atsushi knew by now how bitter and twisted and angry Dazai could be. Atsushi had a strong moral compass, and it felt unlikely that he would casually forgive or overlook all of that, just because he was fond of his mentor.
The detective agency seemed to share that sort of apprehension. All of the broken souls know the weight being a ‘good person’ carried, and Dazai was sure none of them were happy that Atsushi had so casually placed that name on the most unworthy of the lot.
“Really now? How interesting. Do explain.”
Yosano sounded sharp, but almost gently bemused. Atsushi continued, evidently shy at the extra attention.
“Well, he’s always working hard on cases, even if he doesn’t file his reports super well. And he’s always protecting us, against Dostoyevsky, the Guild, the Port Mafia. I know he doesn’t do his paperwork and stuff, but he protects the ADA, even when we don’t even know we’re in danger.”
Dazai felt a soft pang at Atsushi’s gentle words, full of pride and respect for his worthless mentor. He remembered Odasaku saying ‘protect the orphans’, thought of those children, hidden from the World in a spare room of a restaurant, and thought, for the first time how happy his friend must have been to see them grow up. He’d thought it was just a dying man imploring him to do good, but maybe Odasaku, as always, was just trying to make Dazai a little happier, and see a more beautiful World. Yosano sounded just as touched, though she didn’t let that stop her sharp tongue.
“Hmmmm. You’re not wrong I guess. But one could say that’s just him doing his job. Why do you personally want to help him?”
Dazai could envision Atsushi fidgeting, probably blushing down at his hands.
“Dazai-San was the first person who talked to me after I left the orphanage you know? He was nice to me and helped me when he didn’t have to. He even brought me to the agency and protected me against the port mafia.”
‘But I didn’t do it out of altruism’ Dazai thought with a soft sort of grief. He didn’t like that Atsushi was ignoring his self serving nature, but he didn’t want to be the one who broke down quiet admiration.
“You know he didn’t care about you personally at the time right? He just knew that it would be safer to have you with us rather than the guild or port mafia. He probably just wanted you as a pawn.”
Apparently Ranpo had no such qualms. Dazai wondered why Ranpo specifically was pushing this conversation. Cruelty? It really wasn’t the detectives style.
“I don’t think that really matters, does it? Dazai-San didn’t have to support me like he did. He might be manipulative, but he’s manipulative for us, you know? Even if he wanted me as a tool against the guild, or Dostoyevsky or whatever, he didn’t need to teach me or encourage me, or comfort me when I was struggling. If he’s using me, aren’t I using him as well? Aren’t I using the whole detective agency?”
Yosano dropped her whole facade of being tough there, reaching out with a gentle hand. Dazai shifted so he could spy on their action using a reflective panel on a next door building.
“You’re part of the agency, and we want to take care of you. And we all trust Dazai, we just want to make sure that you’re taking care of your own interests.”
“Yes but I wouldn’t be here without Dazai-San. When he found me on the riverbank… I was thinking that maybe I should try to rob someone. I was hungry and alone and desperate to live, and thought I should start a life of crime and hurt others. But Dazai-San saved me from that. It’s only because of him that I can live a life I’m proud of.”
Atsushi shot a bashful smile, but he seemed a little defensive at the conversation. Dazai knew that Yosano’s care of Atsushi didn’t mean that she had any serious grievance against Dazai, but understood that Atsushi’s nature meant that he took any perceived slight against his family seriously.
“He was the first person I ever met. At the orphanage, everyone was so scared. The headmaster turned that fear into this sort of anger and cruelty, and the other orphans turned it into survival instincts, and betrayed each other to save themselves. I’m not mad at them, and I know it was hard to be good in that environment, but Dazai-San proved to me that good people, who help people no matter what exist. I know he struggles a lot, and that he did bad things with the port mafia, but I think it must be really hard to leave everything you ever knew, just because you want to be better.”
Atsushi looked up, nothing but foolish love and care in his eyes, immune to tact or guile.
“Dazai-San makes me want to try and be a good person too. I can’t do half of what he can, but I can help with the little things until I can become someone he’s proud of.”
Shit. Damn it.
If his eye was still working Dazai was sure tears would be running down his face, but he let out a shuddering gasp and pressed the heel of his palm to the socket, pressing down so hard he say shapes twist behind his eyelids. He purposefully ignored the office, the conversation turning more into the members of the ADA present teasing Atsushi for his intensely emotional outburst, and tried to maintain any semblance of composure.
He had never had someone so mercilessly pick apart his every flaw and crack them into something that viewed through the wrong lens be perceived as beautiful. Never had someone failed to understand him on such a fundamental level that they had come close to assuming that he was, in any measure, good.
He had never… He had never thought that as much goodness he saw in Atsushi would be reciprocated in any measure. He had never dared to dream for redemption, just tried to clamber his way to decency.
It was unfair, to listen to Atsushi’s well-meaning words, and know that the kid saw such light in him.
He had thought Atsushi as being full of goodwill and kindness. As a child, searching for his approval like it was a lifeboat. He had never thought that Atsushi’s approval of him would matter, but he felt it sink into his skin like a brand.
He stayed out a little longer, hiding every bruise he had inflicted, and rubbing mud into his soles to fool everyone except Ranpo. He burst in, full of misbehaviour, and pretending to be oblivious in Atsushi’s vulnerable embarrassment and Yosano’s soft approval. He tempted Atsushi out, promising him Chazuke, and offered Yosano a bribe of cheap wine that she hated if she joined them. Kyoka, who had evidently quietly joined perked up imperceptibly and Dazai rounded off with a promise of crepes. Ranpo waved them all off, too comfortable behind his desk, and already surrounded by his favourite treats. Dazai turned, unwilling stay too long in the presence of the one man who knew too much about him.
“Neh, Atsushi, haven’t you forgotten something?”
For a second, Dazai thought Ranpo was trying to elicit more confessions out of the boy and felt his heart rate sky rocket, but fortunately Atsushi’s eyes widened and he rushed to his desk, opening a bottom compartment. With care, he removed a something, holding it steady, and brought it to the collection of detectives.
“What is it?” Kyoka spoke softly, craning her neck elegantly to get a closer look. Atsushi smiled and hugged the plant pot with pride. There were many partially opened buds and a few soft yellow flowers with four large petals.
“It’s a plant! Dazai-San gave me advice on how to grow it.” And that was true, Dazai remembered soft questions about growing flowers being peppered towards him and Kunikida. He had answered with casual competency, but honestly hadn’t assumed that Atsushi was asking for anything other than idle curiosity.
“Now I’m a doctor, not a gardener, but aren’t flowers supposed to be kept in sunlight mister? Why are you locking away such pretty blooms in a dark cupboard?”
Atsushi smiled in the way he did when he’d figured something difficult out.
“Not these ones! They’re called evening primrose! I’ve been germinating them here so I could water them throughout the day, but I was thinking we could put them in our dormitory now that they’ve bloomed. But here’s the really interesting thing! They bloom in the dark! Isn’t that incredible!”
Both Kyoka and Dazai’s head snapped up. Words Kouyou had founded, that had become something of an unofficial motto for most mafia members echoed in their minds.
A flower that blooms in the dark can survive only within the dark.
Kyoko reached out a trembling finger towards one of the petals, the bright yellow almost reflecting light onto her pale skin.
Dazai wasn’t sure about how much Kyoka spoke about her time in the port mafia, but knew that Atsushi had definitely heard that phrase. And he had picked up a flower, bright, yellow, and grown it quietly in the ADA office. Cared for it, loved it, and was bringing it home.
“Oh.” Kyoka said. “The petals are soft.”
Atsushi smiled, a rare sot of pride on his face.
“I know! I think it’s beautiful isn’t it? We never had such pretty flowers where I grew up, but apparently these grow wild, so they’re not too hard to maintain. They fully blossom at about 21:00, so we can watch them better then. Like the flower viewing party at Hanami!”
Kyoka’s eyes were shining, and she nodded so quickly that for a second Dazai worried she’d give herself whiplash. Yosano, who hadn’t known Kouyou, but undoubtedly knew the motto, and the mafia philosophy it carried looked quietly emotional, knowing the weight of the gift.
And it was a gift. To know that the darkness didn’t ruin the flower, that it could blossom in the dark and remain beautiful. Unwittingly Dazai reached out and held a bloom from the stem gently.
Wasn’t that a thought, gently. Hands which were callused from a gun, holding a flower petal, and not crushing it under his fingers.
“It’s a beautiful plant Atsushi-Kun. You’ve grown it well. Maybe you should invite the whole agency to this flower viewing party, hmmm?”
His voice came out wrong. He was going for a sort of disconnected laughter, as though the whole concept was beneath him, but genuine emotion rang true underneath his words, turning the words into almost an earnest plea.
Atsushi let him hold on to his sentimental break without targeting, smiling with affection. “No way, I’d be too embarrassed to invite the whole agency. But you can come Dazai-San, Ranpo-San, Yosano-Sensei! I don’t think we have any alcohol… But Kyoka and I have gotten really good at making themed bentos!”
That stupid soft smile.
“I would really like it if you came Dazai-San. I could only have grown this with your help after all.”
Dazai wanted to watch the flowers bloom. For the half meter plant, taking up room in Atsushi’s desk to burst into vibrancy, show that the dark could cultivate good things, beautiful things. Even if it would always need the dark to survive. Even if it could only be good through manipulation and blackmail and threats. He just wanted it to bloom. But he couldn’t say that, so he laughed and requested crab with his bento and pretended that Atsushi’s bright smile didn’t affect him as much as it did.
The group of four left, though Dazai lingered, just for a question. Earlier he had wanted to run from Ranpo, and he still did. But there was a reason Ranpo had forced that revelation, and Dazai needed some sort of explanation.
“You’re planning something, and it will take you away from us, right?”
There was never any point hiding from the Worlds Greatest Detective. Dazai’s wrists flexed, prepared for the pressure of handcuffs, and his stomach cramped imagining the food of meursalt and the company of that damn Russian Rat.
What a joke.
Ranpo stretched, arms above his head, tossing himself into his chair.
“I know you’ll do what you have to do. But I thought you should know what you’re leaving, just so you know what you’re coming back to.”
Ranpo looked at him with a steely eye.
“Because you are coming back to us.”
The World of saving people. Dazai had never assumed he’d needed to be saved. But he had been wrong before.
This ridiculous agency, full of people too good for their own common sense.
"I'll come home soon. Don't worry, Ranpo-San."
He closed the door behind him, almost feeling like he was retreating. But the Sun shone bright and the breeze was at the perfect level, and even if the weather was horrible, his young student was waiting for him, and that meant more than he could ever dream.