Chapter Text
Stage I
Mild, persistent symptoms.
Coughing, a little sneeze, discomfort.
Bringing up small petals. Confusion.
Hidden Longing.
·༻𐫱༺·
Everyone thought it was allergies.
It started out as coughing and sneezing. Perhaps a persistent cold or the pollen in the air. Having been examined after a week of persistent symptoms, Yosano declared that it could be adult-onset asthma, and said to watch the symptoms closely in case they got worse.
Well, they started to get worse.
After a long solo mission, one that Dazai will claim he hated more than anything, Dazai went to bed and slept for twenty hours. The mission wasn’t all that bad. It was a simple trip to explore the rumors of a rampaging ability-user with a power that can create a cloud of fog over an area. Worried that another Shibasuwa incident would happen, the special operations division elected Dazai to go for his nullification. What neither party knew was that the Mafia had sent Executive Nakahara to investigate as well, with hopes of getting another powerful gifted on their side.
Long story short, the pair literally bumped into each other when the gifted surrounded the town with mist. It didn’t disappear when it touched Dazai, and the mist fogged vision within the nearest meter.
He had stumbled around blindly until he almost ran over a small someone.
“Sorry,” the person said.
“I know that voice!” Dazai exclaimed. “What are you doing here, you hatrack?”
“None of your business.” Chuuya began to walk away and Dazai started to chase him. “Leave me alone!” He kicked off the ground, but Dazai tapped the heel of his shoe, causing Chuuya to crash to the ground on top of Dazai.
It led to a tussle in the middle of the road that only ended when the two noticed that the fog was gone and their target had probably made an escape.
What could have been a potential day-mission resulted in a week of tracking pattern movement, observing people, and a competition to see who could get to the target first. Dazai won, but Chuuya came crashing through the front door soon after.
Turns out the guy was a father to a little girl, caring for his wife and child by shoplifting and living in an abandoned house with broken windows. The pair regarded his circumstances, talking amongst each other about what to do. Dazai eventually told him that the guy, who had a foreigner’s name– Aster, that he would have to report himself over to the special operations division for the multiple crimes he’s committed as well as misuse of his ability, to that, the man agreed.
Mission accomplished. Chuuya thought that he might benefit from being a Mafia member, remembering what it was like living on the streets and having to find his own food, but the man had a family. He had a weakness. He wouldn’t last long, especially if someone had the potential to use his wife and daughter against him.
When the special divisions operations came to collect the Aster family, it was time for the duo to head back to Yokohama.
“Hey, slug–”
“Piss off, Dazai!” Chuuya walked away quickly and Dazai didn’t chase after him this time. He stood at the abandoned house, an ache starting to form in his chest.
Eventually, Dazai made it back to Yokohama, sort of stumbling around dazedly. He’d only thought of killing himself once. It was an unusually low amount for him. Most of his thoughts were, annoyingly, about a certain tiny red-haired, hat-wearing Mafia executive.
When he got back to his little room in the Agency dorms, he was out like a light.
Upon awaking, he felt stiff and sore, and his chest felt tight and ached. Breathing felt odd.
Did he care? No.
It was also accompanied with a cough, so Dazai used that to call in sick, much to Kunikida’s displeasure.
“You’ve used up all of your sick days ages ago, Dazai!”
“I don’t care.”
“At least give us a report. You sound fine, you haven’t coughed or sneezed once while on the phone.”
“Well, I should rest so that I can get better fast! Bye-bye, Kunikida-san!” And Dazai hung up.
This went on for days. And as the days went by, symptoms only seemed to get worse. Even lying down on the floor pretending to be dead caused a feeling of being winded. Kunikida would call, and even bang on his door for five minutes, threatening to make a key to open it, but decided it wasn’t worth the paper waste.
Finally, a knock on the door came before the Agency opened for the day.
“Dazai-kun, it’s Yosano,” said the Agency’s doctor. “Open up right now!”
There was no response from the inside. Fearing the worst, she brought backup in the form of a fourteen year old boy who could lift trucks like they were pillows. To say that Kenji demolished the door would be an understatement though.
Dazai yelped as the door was brought down. He was lying on the floor surrounded by empty sake bottles, and it quickly became a coughing fit.
“Dazai-san, are you okay?” Kenji asked, rushing over to his co-worker to pat him on the back.
“Go… away!” Dazai wheezed.
Yosano approached. Right away, a striking blue color that was scattered about the room caught her eye. She bent down and saw that they were blue rose petals. Realization shot through her like a jolt of electricity. “Dazai,” she said sharply.
Pulling his hands away, Dazai revealed three more petals to add to the collection gathering on the floor. The petals were off-blue. Small, sort of faded like there wasn’t enough bright blue to go around. And based on the grim look on Dazai’s face, it had been going on for at least a day or two.
“Shit.”
Kenji regarded the petals by his feet. “Hanahaki disease?"
“Well… based on the progression…” Dazai said between breaths, “I should be dead within three weeks!”
The kid’s blue eyes widened. “You’re not going to try to find the person you’re in love with?” Kenji asked.
“Nope! I’d rather die.”
“Is that so?” Demanded Yosano. She stood with her arms crossed, a face that was the farthest from amused. “Sounds like a rather painful way to die. I thought you hated pain?”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and die in my sleep.”
“Get cleaned up. We are going to go tell Fukuzawa-sama. He needs to be made aware of your situation.”
“But–” The bandaged man cowered at the doctor’s fierce glare. It reminded him of Kouyou a little. He hauled himself to his feet and they made the strenuous journey from the dorms to the office. Just walking up the four flights of stairs had him gasping for breath.
Atsushi was exiting the office with Kyouka, presumably for an early morning mission.
“Hello, Dazai-san! Are you feeling better?”
“I’m dying.”
“He will be fine,” Yosano said.
Kenji piped up, “he’s in love.”
“O-oh? That’s wonderful. Good luck with the woman,” Atsushi said. Kyouka just gave him a careful gaze. They excused themselves and went down the stairs.
Yosano dragged Dazai over to Fukuzawa’s office. “President Fukuzawa, I’ve retrieved Dazai-kun.”
“Hello, Dazai,” Fukuzawa greeted. “Are you feeling alright?"
“Um, about that…” Together, the pair explained what was going on. Yosano finishing it with stating that the sickness was progressing at a more rapid pace, which was less than ideal.
“I predict he has at most a month left to live.”
The president nodded solemnly. “I see.” He took a moment to think. “Do you know who it is that you have fallen for?” Dazai shrugged unhelpfully. “Well, think about it and try to find them.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dazai. He left the office to go sulk at his desk.
“There you are,” Kunikida grumbled. “You smell horrible. Did you not shower?”
“Not showering helps your skin.”
“Not showering every day helps your skin. Not showering for what smells like a month is just disgusting, Dazai.”
“I guess I’ll just be the epitome of health while you rot.” The irony.
Find the person you love. There was no need for searching. Dazai knew who he was hopelessly in love with. He’d been in love with him for years, even having succumbed to Hanahaki before, many many years ago. Back in his teenage years. He’d survived then, obviously, living two years somewhat happy and very much in love.
But he knew it was hopeless this time around. He’d messed up so bad. He knew that he was undeserving of love after everything he’d done.
There was no way that Chuuya would forgive him.