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I fucked up, Odasaku. I just keep fucking up.
Dazai leaned against the tombstone, eyes closed and face free from its usual fake cheer.
You told me to become a good man. To protect some orphans. But I’m not a good person, not like you. I’m not virtuous. I don’t care, even though I try to. I’m nothing but a broken husk of something that’s not even human anymore. Maybe I never was. I can’t remember.
I hit Atsushi today. He was having a panic attack because he’d lost control of himself under Q’s ability and hurt some of the agency girls. And I didn’t even feel anything for him. No concern, no empathy, nothing. I just recalled what I knew of his history with the orphanage’s headmaster, and slapped him across the face. That grounded him, just as I’d suspected. But I know you would have handled it differently, Odasaku. I know you would have handled it better.
The sun streamed across Dazai’s upturned face, but he felt none of its warmth.
He trusts me, too. That’s the worst of it. He claims to see the good in me even though he knows my soiled past. But what I do to him should hurt him. Not that I mean to. He just shouldn’t have to bear my anger with that genuine smile on his face and forgive me as easily as the sun rises every day.
Even Akutagawa doesn’t hate me. He should. I abused Akutagawa for years; it was the only way he’d survive in the Port Mafia. But maybe that reason was just a lie I told myself because I couldn’t care to find a better way. You would have found a better way, Odasaku. So would any of the other people at the Agency.
It’s stupid, but somehow I think my death would hurt these people even more than my being alive does. The agency might be grateful, and yet Atsushi told me he hopes that I’ll stay. Even Akutagawa keeps fighting because he needs to prove his worth to me. He’s worthy, you know. He’s become everything I’d known he could. But I don’t know how to tell him that because I’m not a good person.
If I were a good person, I suppose I’d thank you for saving him that day, from Gide. I know I never thanked you when you were still alive. I’m not really thanking you now, either. But he and Atsushi would have never been the beautiful pair they are if not for you.
“Dazai.” Fukuzawa’s commanding voice cut through the fog of Dazai’s brain. He blinked a few times, finally fixing his gaze on the silver-haired man above him.
“Atsushi told me what happened.”
Dazai froze for a moment, actually surprised. He hadn’t expected the boy to say anything. Atsushi had returned to his normal cheery self not five minutes after that confrontation, even as Dazai’s mind spiraled out of control. Then, a slight smile slid onto his lips. Finally Dazai would get the punishment he deserved.
“To put it shortly, he was worried about you.”
Again, Dazai was shaken. Was his mentee really this hard for him to read? Or was he just not allowing himself to make the correct predictions for the sake of the mental hole he had been in the middle of digging for himself?
“Atsushi knows about your past with Akutagawa, and that someone made you quit the Port Mafia to try to become a better person. He recognized that your actions against him today were reminiscent of your old instincts. Naturally, that would hurt you, even if you let none of those emotions slip. He wanted me to ensure your physical safety. But I thought I might find you here instead.”
Fukuzawa paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on Dazai’s own. They softened slightly as he said his next words.
“I let you into the agency for a reason, Dazai. I know you better than most, yet I trust you. I see the good that you’re trying to create. We all mess up sometimes. And yes, it hurts. It hurts so very much when we instinctually rely on old behaviors we desperately want to forget and end up harming the people we’re trying to care for. But that pain means that you’re trying. I believe in you. So does the rest of the agency. And we’ll be here to support you if you allow us to.”
“I… how can you… but why?” Dazai had never fully lost control of his emotions in front of Fukuzawa before. But in this moment, Dazai felt himself break as he’d broken with Odasaku dying in his arms. A few tears trickled down his face as he cried out, “but why do I deserve this?! People don’t get second chances. I don’t get second chances.”
Fukuzawa crouched down so he was level with Dazai. Even that positioning was enough to make Dazai pull back in shock slightly. He couldn’t ever think of a time when he’d seen Fukuzawa look so… nonthreatening. Gentle, even.
“People get second chances in the world I want to build,” Fukuzawa said simply. Yet to Dazai’s ears, those words carried more weight than the ground he stood on. “And you, Dazai, are part of that world.”
Dazai pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as though he were cold. Fukuzawa laid one hand on Dazai’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “Thank you, president,” Dazai murmured. The sun on his back felt warm. Slowly, he started to pull the pieces of himself back together yet again. But this time, he wasn’t alone.