#his real name was 'tsushima shuji'

[cerealandchoccymilk]

idk if anyone here gives a shit but reading about the lives of japanese modern era writers is so fun...

(this blue mackarel/peach blossom incident is the most famous fight between dazai osamu and nakahara chuya)

#the 'tsushima' mentioned in the epilogue is dazai's real surname #his real name was 'tsushima shuji' #absolutely in love with cocoro's art in general #she really captures the features even though theyre drawn so simply #like nakahara's signature GLISTENING ORBS kjsdhfa #- emil #ummmmmmm idk what to tag. the curse of bsd is looming over me #classic authors #japanese classic lit #idkkkkkkk #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #nakahara chuya #chuya nakahara #(THE AUTHORS. THE IRL AUTHORS) #dan kazuo #kazuo dan #kusano shinpei #shinpei kusano #not doing the double u spelling for nakahara bc its not standard and pretty much grarantees the character lol

[lnkedmyheart]

Last night I had this weird-ass dream about Dazai revealing that his real name is Tsushima Shuji ( yk the real author's name ) and he was faking it all this time 💀

I don't quite remember wtf the context was but I think it was sth related to his childhood and he was like "yeah lol that's the kid me, yeah lol my name is that but it was boring so I changed it for fun haha"

Oh yea I think if Dazai's real name is in fact ever revealed it would be that. Cause his past is a big question mark and I suspect he might be a run away from a well off, maybe politically powerful family.

#i wanna dream about my fave shows too #i only ever dream about toilets exoloding into monsters or my dog eating my answer sheet mid exam

[basilspolaroid]

soukoku wip :”im magnetic to the things you hate the most”

ok so i started this thing and idk if i should complete it or not

its basically where the pm is like a book publisher which chuuya was in, but acts as dazais replacement who left, and he finds dazais old pm book at a random library and gets attached to it for basically no reason (or so he thinks)

Each page precariously wailed with words of solemnity and passion. Remarks that he could never comprehend and had made no sense to him when he was but an adolescent traversing the world through the more… unconventional substances.

No gifted child could ever stray away from such solutions (even under his parents’ strict surveillance) which is why Chuuya fell in love with people who despised the words ‘success’ and ‘life’. Not so much that he had felt the same, he just enjoyed picking apart these ‘reasons’ and countering them in his own work.

It’s kind of dumb.

For this reason, he never wrote books - he wouldn’t dare. He sought so highly over etching out people's lives in their stories and feared those doing the same to his. No matter what conclusion they would arise, it would never be the one they expected.

That’s why Chuuya wrote poems, you can only speculate about something so short and vague, with the only factual evidence being a semantic field of pain and melancholiness.

So fuck, only a genius could write Chuuya’s story from that.

And that’s also what brought him to a bookstore.

Pondering over each book created anxiety fluttering through the pages as if the texts sweat under his gaze, which they most likely did.

Something about the pensive smell of a traditional bookstore dragged him in.

The types of books he enjoyed were vast and nonexistent—a divide between fairytale-esque worlds to fantasies created as a microcosm of real-world issues.

Something crafted to combat boredom, or in his case, burnout.

Nothing had captured his tastes quite yet, as such of a bohemian romantic.

Not until a certain Shuji Tsushima had bled into focus. A pen name, surely. Or possibly a name meant to shove the reader into a ruse.

Chuuya meekly slides a hand around the spine of the book, in a tight, strangler motion.

The cover is entirely duo chromatic, devoid of pigments but two contrasting fades, a fuchsia pink and a deep black, with a scene of a silhouetted statue.

“No Longer Human”

Shuji Tsushima.

A tale in which one traverses through life with Western ideas meshed with a traditional Japanese Aristocratic family, where he finds himself “disqualified from being human”. Obo Yozo attempts to create reasons to become obsessed with people and how they should be written. He records the cruelties of life and its fleeting moments of human connection and tenderness.

A true resemblance of pure sorrow and despair, a pathetic representation of mankind.

Truly, Chuuya didn’t mean to grab the book, something hypnotic pulled him against the tide and beckoned him to sink his teeth into Obo Yozo’s life. Prying open the paperback cover to skim the forefront page, usually containing reviews or a lettered version of the title, however, instead, was a short author note, nothing but four words, directly in the center of the page written in typewriter font.

                                                    To my future soulmate,

Soulmates? What a brash thing to believe in for someone who wrote a story of misery and weakness. Surely someone of that calibre would have no taste for soulmates, a metaphorical phenomenon for someone bound to you, destined to find each other despite the situation.

A stupid ideology.

Chuuya digresses, as his interest did not waver, and this ‘interest’ was piqued, as they would say.

Possibly a normal person would just brush it off.

Well, Chuuya is not normal, at least not to the degree that is considered ‘normal’. Chuuya Nakahara is a goddamn poet whether the world likes it or not, and he suddenly has a profound interest in Obo Yozo.

“Hey, are you getting that book or nah?” A voice bellowed from across the shelf towards the counter. The store owner stared at Chuuya with sleek almond eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Sure, sure, that’s fine. It’s been on that shelf a while, so it’s good to see someone buyin’ it finally. Although- I won’t lie, I only thought a proper nutter would buy it,” She shrugs, “Guess you are that nutter.”

Chuuya raises an eyebrow and shuffles closer to the counter than to the shelf, not yet placing the book down for purchase, “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said, mate. Weird story actually, some guy came in here and dropped the book on my desk. Told me to put it on sale in that exact corner you got it from. Dunno why, assume the guy must’ve been some friend of the author, spoke about the author on a first name basis and went on about some vengeance.”

The girl behind the counter frowned and widened her eyes, “But like, I don’t wanna put you off the book, y’know… It’s a bestselling book and stuff, so there’s gotta be some merit to it, but damn when I read the back couldn’t help but feel a bit irked. That’s prolly do to with the guy tho, seriously he was weird, had no eyebrows and shit.”

Alright, weird book with weird origins.

“Okay, and because some guy came and gave you the book means it’s scary?”

The girl tilts her head, “Uhm, well, I mean, that’s not everything. I may not seem like it, but I read a fair bit, sweetie, and I’ve read books by Dazai before, ain’t nothing weirder than his books. I’m just telling you, but it’s almost like the guy ain’t got a soul in him, no faith in humanity at all. Book’ll make you depressed for a good week after, but you seem like the typa guy to eat that stuff up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kidding. Obviously.” She half smiles.

Chuuya slams the book onto the counter, “Just give me the book.”

This causes the girl to flinch and raise her arms, “Alright, calm down Speedy Gonzales.”

“That’ll be ¥1500- wait, Nakahar- damn, you’re in my English Anthology, old man.”

So when he briskly purchases the book and pockets the number with swift zephyr, nobody is surprised.

—

Yet, Chuuya does not even glance at the cover when he reaches his domicile. A place of tranquil importance, yet not in the aristocratic style of Obo Yozo. On the mention of him, Yozo truly was a despicable man.

Chuuya had never hated a character more than he hated Obo Yozo. He used as many women as he would see fit, just to fulfil his empty pleasure. Tsuneko was a prime example of such behaviour of Yozo. Fully consecrated by a vow of death, in which Yozo had deemed romantic yet tragic that she had passed and he had not.

“I drank the liquor. She did not intimidate me, and I felt no obligation to perform my clownish antics for her.” The only woman Yozo had ever loved was one who wished to die more than he did.

If Obo Yozo did not see himself as human, was Tsushima one to follow the same ideologies? To produce a story of pure irascibility, you must have many unwanted thoughts or even traumas.

Was this how Chuuya’s generation was reflected, through the eyes of a sorry sob?

The question still stood, why was Chuuya compelled to finish the entirety of the book despite loathing the main character’s decisions?

Would it be such a stretch to believe this author had anything but a heart?

Shit.

Chuuya slammed the book on its paperback cover. He doesn’t care what that woman said, what does he care? The person who wrote this book was probably just an entitled snob that didn’t deserve this much thought

“Y’know what, fuck this. Fuck this stupid book, and fuck this fucking… this fucking author.”

The moment he opened the book, his fate was sealed.

Poets are dramatic, as far as the stereotypes go, and well, they aren’t wrong.

Nothing been hurt more than anticipation however, as, the walls curved together and words pained to look at had shown that Chuuya has had enough.

He tossed the book, causing it to crash against the meagre wall, and pushed his throwover across his head.

—

I thought, “I want to die. I want to die more than ever before.

There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame.

That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute.

I want to die.

I must die. Living itself is the source of sin.”

—Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human.

#soukoku #ao3 #wip #dazai #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bsd #archive of our own #archiveofourown #ao3 works #fic writer #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 wip

[ao3feed-fyozai]

Water fills the lungs like Love fills the brain

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/DUbjPXf

by Miserable_Karma

The first memory Shuji could remember was of a beautiful woman. He can't remember if she was real or was made up to deal with the pain he was in. It didn't matter to him; it brought him comfort when he heard her voice. It helped to hear her as the doctors experimented on him. It helped when he changed his name, it helped when he went under Mori, it helped when he joined the Port Mafia, and it helped with the loss of his father figure. It helped...if only he didn't hear her voice when he was so close to death.

 *inspired by Ice queen and This Empty Space Beside You*

Words: 373, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Tsushima Shuji - Character, Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fukuzawa Yukichi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Sakaguchi Ango (Bungou Stray Dogs), Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu/Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Additional Tags: Bottom Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu Needs a Hug (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu is a Mess (Bungou Stray Dogs), Possessive Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Soft Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, I am scared to add more, have mercy on me, please, Why Did I Write This?, I Tried, hard on this, i will go to hell, Please Don't Hate Me, please comment, i am lonely, Parent Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs), Caring Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa and Dazai have somewhat of a good relationship, Parental Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Parent Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), this is how you know i hate life, Inspired by Fanfiction, a bit out of character

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/DUbjPXf

#fyozai #bungou stray dogs #ao3fyozai #ao3feed #fanfic

[sips-tea-cutely]

if you showed me a pic of dazai in bsd and said his irl real name was shuji tsushima, i would not believe you

wait naur not even irl dazai looks like a shuji, he fits yozo’s ‘disappointment’ appearance

wait is that why they confused yozo for dazai wait omg

#also about those most searches yea i think dazai had a crush on a boy #it was someone he walked home with before i think

[sesugi]

Japanese author Osamu Dazai with his brothers- Keiji Tsushima, Bunji Tsushima, Eiji Tsushima from the left in the front row, and Reiji Tsushima and Dazai (real name Shuji Tsushima) from the left in the back row.

Keiji, Eiji and Renji passed away before 1930. And with Dazai himself passing away in 1948, the only surviving brother was Bunji Tsushima (the eldest) who allegedly passed away around 1980.

#osamu dazai #no longer human #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #1940s #1930s #japanese literature #japanese author #japan #author #literature #brothers #bungou stray dogs

[scalpel-mom-mori]

Hi! “Dementia” sounds like an interesting title. What’s it about?

HI !! Dementia is an au where Mori is Dazai’s dad eheh. Also an experiment in yandere Mori, so do keep that in mind.

Tsushima Tanae was irl Dazai’s mother (and Osamu Dazai was actually a pen name. His real name was Tsushima Shuji)  

He didn’t keep any photos of her. He didn’t need them, not when he could close his eyes and bring up her face without trying. The only trace of her that remained in his office was the handgun in the top drawer of his desk. The blood had been cleaned out of the carpet almost immediately, and she’d been given a proper funeral. Buried alone on a small, isolated peak that overlooked the ocean. She would’ve hated it. They’d had a picnic there once. The headstone read “Tsushima Tane, the mother of a tragedy,” which she also would’ve hated. Still, Mori’s stupid sentimentality over her refused to let him consider her feelings over such things. He visited her once or twice a year, and left her a jar of sake. That too, she would have hated.

Dazai is about eight in this part.

Fukuzawa hadn’t really considered what the boy would be like when they met again, but here he stood, covered in bandages, unmistakably Tane’s son. About ten, with hollow, dark eyes that resembled his mother’s in more than shape and color. He took after her, Fukuzawa couldn’t help but notice.

The kid stood roughly the same height as Mori probably did, rather on the delicate side like his father. Tane had been small, but her work demanded a certain strength that her son hadn’t inherited.

“The cat man told me to come to you,” Dazai Osamu said. His resting expression was an odd mix of bored and contemplative.

“Cat man?” Fukuzawa asked. A very small part of him was intrigued.

“I pet a cat and it turned into an old guy,” Dazai replied with a sour downturn of his mouth. “He told me to find Fukuzawa Yukichi and ask for the letter.”

Of course Mori’s son would have something as troublesome as a nullifying ability.

But this was no time to lament such a hassle. “I don’t have it on me. You’ll have to come back to the agency. When do you have to be home?”

Dazai shrugged. “Whenever I want. The cat man said to take my time.”

Fukuzawa didn’t like that answer. The sun was already hanging low between the skyscrapers. “Let’s go quickly.”

Dazai, while slightly disappointed that Fukuzawa wasn’t going to be his excuse to stay out late, didn’t protest.

Ranpo looked intrigued as Fukuzawa returned with Dazai in tow. “So that’s him?” Ranpo asked, squinting at Dazai.

Dazai looked indignant. “You don’t have to be smug about knowing things I don’t,” he grumbled. Fukuzawa sighed, grateful that Natsume-sensei had taken the kid. One child was enough, and Fukuzawa hadn’t even known Ranpo all that long.

“Ranpo,” Fukuzawa sighed. Ranpo popped open a bag of chips, looking as close to contrite as Fukuzawa had ever seen him. “This way,” he said to Dazai.

His office felt colder than usual as they entered. Dazai seemed to already understand the gravity of the moment, and was silent, with that strange, contemplative expression. Fukuzawa led him through the first room of the office, to the tatami room sectioned off, where Fukuzawa had his desk. Dazai remained standing, eyes darting, as if trying to absorb everything about the room around him, as Fukuzawa sat down behind his desk and unlocked a drawer.

“Here.”

Dazai’s eyes slowly slid to the envelope on the desk between them, narrowing almost imperceptibly. “It’s from her,” he said. It was not a question. Fukuzawa nodded stiffly. What is it with this city and children that are too smart for their own good? Fukuzawa nodded again. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Not when he didn’t know what the kid wanted to know about his mother.

And, even if he did, Fukuzawa wasn’t sure he would be able to answer to the child. Dazai probably didn’t want to know how Tane had been a bar girl, or how she’d thrust the child into Natsume’s arms, pressed the letter into Fukuzawa’s hands with instructions and ran off into the rain.

Dazai almost certainly didn’t want to know the way Tane had collapsed with two bullets between her eyes, or the way Mori’s eyes danced with the flames of hell itself. No, Dazai definitely didn’t want to hear what his father had said, still holding up the smoking gun.

I don’t care what your relationship is. You’re not leaving me, and certainly not with him.

“Can I open it here?” Dazai asked, snapping Fukuzawa back to the present.

“Go ahead. Ranpo and I are going home in an hour, though.”

“That’s fine,” Dazai replied, already tearing open the envelope with impossibly careful, steady fingers. His father’s hands, most likely. Mori had cut Fukuzawa open once or twice in their time.

#trace anon #Dementia #:D #i love talking about wips I'll never finish :D

[deathavoided]

frozcnlight said ✎ { Prompt generator ask meme }

Dazai : I’ve been hiding who I am for a long time. Trust me, you get used to it.

Starter Prompts Status: Accepting

Dazai was a mystery, no one could crack him. That was exactly how he liked it. He didn't need anyone learning things about him that were better forgotten. Yet, here was a part of his past that seemed to have come to surface. Miran Lee. She was his childhood friend, that wasn't just something one forgot. Even if said person tried to claim amnesia just to get out of telling anyone about his past. It wasn't those moments he shared with Miran that he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget his darker past, his family. One would wish to do that when their family was simply put a piece of shit.

He had just happened upon Miran when the Agency had taken him to the hotel which she seemed to run. His brown eyes had easily pinpointed her, his mind going through things to say to pick her up or try to rope her into committing a double suicide with her , when she said her name. So he had hung around , long after the investigation was done. He needed to settle things, he needed to make sure Miran couldn't be used to get to him somehow. "Don't be alarmed" he spoke as he grasped her hand, softly, and pulled her into the nearest place he could. A meeting hall, smaller but it would do. He locked the door and let go of her hand.

"Miran, we need to have a talk. I've been hiding who I am for a long time. Trust me, you get used to it. Though you're the only one who could perhaps be used against me and I can't have that. So time to come clean..." he took in a breath. His body stayed in front of the door, his arms resting at his side. Teeth going to lightly bite his bottom lip. He despised this name so much, but it had to be said. "We have met before. This isn't the first time we have met, Mimi. I know this is weird and I know years have passed... but the name I was born with and ya would know me with was Shuji Tsushima."

It was odd how his words tumbled out, how his mask seem to fall just for a minute as he spoke. Not to mention how he had ended up calling Miran by his childhood nickname for her. This was odd even for him. He had in a way taken the girl hostage , as he wasn't going to let her out of this room until they had their little talk. He grasped her hands , brown eyes meeting blue. "I know it is weird, but Miran I can't just let ya stay in the dark. Not about this. Ya simply can't let anyone know though!" He had been disowned, yet he feared his family. This was the real Dazai behind the mask , a simple dysfunctional mess of a person. 

#Fighting my way through the sins of the street (Verse- ADA) #(I made a new verse for us \o/) #(Will they be friends or more here??) #What is sanity? (Asks) #We’re slow dancing in a burning room (Queue) #frozcnlight

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (21/?)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24121633/chapters/65002714

I stared at the rather unkempt-looking man before us, a man who, at the moment, looked more like a large purple caterpillar with spiky black hair and thick, round glasses than an actual human being. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet as Katai readjusted his glasses and shuffled forward a little, keeping the plush purple fabric of his futon gathered as closely about his body as he could.

This... is the hacker Dazai wanted me to contact?

I found myself tightening my grip on Kunikida’s sleeve as Katai turned his attention to me, his face bathed in the eerie, blue glow of his many computer monitors. I saw his dark eyes narrow behind his glasses as he squinted at my face, but when I returned his scrutinizing gaze with a quizzical one of my own, Katai immediately looked away. There was something really odd, yet uncomfortably familiar about his skittish behavior but at the moment, I was feeling too creeped out to think too much on it.

Still hanging onto the thin black fabric of Kunikida’s sleeve, I took a couple of tiny steps to my left tucking a little more of myself out of view. As much as I didn’t like hiding behind the tall blonde, I liked the weird looks Katai was giving me even less and if I wanted to be completely honest with myself, it felt oddly safe behind Kunikida’s broad back. Thankfully, Kunikida seemed to sense my unease and he shifted his stance in an almost protective manner in line with my movements..

“This is your old friend? This is Katai-san?” I asked.

Grimacing slightly, Kunikida nodded. His gray-green eyes swept over the piles of garbage around the room, then narrowed in distaste.

“Although he looks like this,” he said, turning slightly to look at me, “Katai is an extremely talented information broker and hacker.”

His lips twitched in a flicker of a smile when he saw that I was hiding behind him. I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been staring so intensely at his face.

“He’s capable of processing data several dozen times faster than a normal human—to the point where he can single-handedly take on military cyberwarfare.”

My mouth dropped open. I poked my head out again to stare at Katai.

“For real?”

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when Katai suddenly let out a loud sob and sagged down into a grubby pile of gloom and purple futon fabric.

“C-congratulations, Kunikida-san!” he bawled, ripping off his own round glasses and furiously wiping at his streaming eyes with one brown haori sleeve. “To think you found your other half so soon ahead of schedule! I, Tayama Katai, wish you a long and prosperous union—”

I let go of Kunikida immediately and flushed scarlet.

“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!!” I squeaked. “What are you talking about—?!”

But Katai wasn’t listening to me—he was too busy crying.

“I was beginning to wonder when you’d come by to visit,” he hiccuped, snot visibly dripping out of his nose, “but never in my wildest dreams did I think—!”

He paused for a moment to wipe the snot from his face and I backed away in horror.

“That the next time you came by to visit, you’d be bringing your fiancee—”

“YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG IDEA!!” Kunikida bellowed, grabbing Katai by the collar of his shirt and shaking him furiously. “Kusunoki-kun is a colleague from work and I brought her here because of a case, you damned crackpot!”

Katai stopped crying at once. Letting out one loud, dramatic sniff, he stuck his glasses back on his face and blinked up at Kunikida, whose neck and ears had turned a bright, fiery red.

“Oh,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed.

His eyes darted to me (for only a millisecond). He frowned.

“You sure...?”

I couldn’t see the look on Kunikida’s face but judging from Katai’s reaction, it must’ve been answer enough. Katai didn’t ask again and Kunikida dropped him.

Instead, he wiped at his face again, sniffled once more, and turned and bowed to the wall on my right.

“Nice to meet you, Kusunoki-san,” he said politely, still facing the wall. “I am Tayama Katai. How can I help you?”

I blinked.

“Is he... talking to me?” I asked, shooting a glance at Kunikida, who groaned and covered his reddened face with one large hand and nodded.

Oh. So this was why Dazai suggested Kunikida come here with me.

Apparently Katai was one of those guys who had trouble talking to women. Katai wasn’t being creepy with all those odd, furtive looks he’d shot me earlier; that was literally the longest he could stand looking at me for.

I made a face.

Did I act like this while I was cooped up too? Dear God, I hope not...

“Umm... I’m Kusunoki Kyou.”

I took out the black access card from inside my jacket and placed it on the floor, near the corner of Katai’s futon, leaving it there the way you’d leave a treat for a very skittish cat.

“I was wondering if you could help me find someone,” I said, retreating backwards and sitting on my knees near the doors. “A man named Tsushima Shuji. He’s an accountant at this big company...”

As I carefully explained the case to Katai, I saw Kunikida turn and quietly leave the room. I didn’t think anything of it and was about to ask Katai about the black card when I heard a loud clattering and a splash from somewhere behind me.

“What the—?”

I turned my head to see Kunikida standing at the sink near Katai’s front door. His black shirtsleeves were rolled up past the elbows and he was furiously washing the dishes and stacking them in the dish rack nearby. I swallowed dryly, feeling a familiar heat creep over my cheeks as I watched him take a step back from the counter and wipe his large hands on one of Katai’s grimy dishcloths.

Wow. I can see the definition in his forearms from all the way over here...

“I see,” Katai mumbled, startling me.

I jerked back around to face him.

“So you want me to use this card to find Tsushima?” Katai asked, turning the black access card over in his hands.

“Y-yes,” I stammered, hoping Katai couldn’t tell if I was blushing or not. “And, if possible, try to find the money that was stolen or at least a trace of the hacker. I’m not sure if you can do that with just this card... Should I explain what this is?”

“No need,” Katai replied, now squinting into the gold wiring inside the card. “I think I know. Just a moment, please.”

Readjusting his futon where it was slipping off his head, Katai tucked the card into the folds of his brown Haori and shuffled over to the monitors. As he was busying himself with his computers, I heard a loud clattering noise from somewhere far behind me and turned to look.

It was Kunikida and he was heading for the door with several large, heavy-looking bags of garbage that jangled noisily as he dragged them along. I was about to get up and ask if he needed any help when I saw him kick open Katai’s front door with an angry roar and march down the hallway with all of the bags thrown over his shoulder.

Holy shit...

In the time it had taken me to give the briefest of explanations to Katai, Kunikida had cleared out the entire antechamber. Gone was the collection of empty sake bottles, gone were the bags of garbage near the sink—even the few pairs of shoes left near the door had been organized neatly (including the ones we’d taken off). I heard yet more noisy clattering from down the hall as, from the sound of it, Kunikida kicked open several more doors and headed out to the garbage room.

Wincing slightly as the front door slammed shut by itself, I glanced back at Katai, only to find that I was far more focused on the piles of garbage collecting all around the corners than on the case. Kunikida was being kind when he’d said Katai’s living situation would be “familiar” to me. Identical was more like it. The only difference between Katai’s apartment and my old one was that his room was full of tech instead of anime posters. Honestly, Katai’s place was probably cleaner than mine was; at least he had the good sense to put all his trash away in bags rather than just tossing it into corners and letting it get all moldy.

I shuddered as I thought about Kunikida being the one to venture into my otaku cave to retrieve my belongings the night I’d been rescued. I could picture him cracking open the door, pinching his nose shut and staring all around him in obvious disgust as he navigated his way between random piles of crap—garbage and dirty laundry that was in such a state, they definitely would’ve been censored if this were an anime production. What if on his way into my main room, he’d slipped on that one banana peel that hadn’t quite made its way into the garbage bin in the kitchen? And then landed in a pile of discarded undergarments. What if he’d seen my granny panties or worse, ended up touching one?!

I bit back a groan.

How could I have ever thought I had a chance with Kunikida?

Even if he thought I was cute, even if I somehow managed to embody all fifty-eight traits of his ideal woman, Kunikida would never see me as anything more than a smelly shut-in—!

“Kusunoki-kun?”

“Huh?!”

I snapped to attention but, predictably, Katai still wasn’t looking at me. He was still facing the wall to my right even though he was clearly addressing me.

“Yes, Katai-san?”

Katai frowned.

“Finding Tsushima using this data alone could prove difficult. Would you mind if I tried tracing the money first and seeing if that gives us any leads?”

When I shook my head no, Katai looked back to the screen.

“Okay, then. Do you remember which account the money was stolen from?”

“It was a ‘business expenditures’ account,” I recalled, suddenly realizing I’d left the printouts at the Agency in my rush to leave.

Katai nodded.

“Got it. Hang on.”

He extended one hand towards the wall of computers and at once, the light in the room changed from pale blue to a bright, forest green. I watched, jaw hanging slack as one of the computer towers suddenly erupted in a storm of tiny green lightning bolts, the corresponding monitor flickering violently as lines of code began flying across the screen at incredible speeds. Within seconds several windows had popped up, one of which displayed rows and rows of names and numbers. It was a large spreadsheet and as I stared at the screen, I realized Katai had just gotten into the bank account without touching the card or the computer.

“What... did you do?” I asked, amazed.

“My Ability lets me control electronics without touching them,” Katai explained. “It works best when I’m comfortable...”

He pulled the futon covers higher over his head and continued to stare at the wall to my right.

“And I’m most comfortable here, in my apartment, with Yoshiko.”

Yoshiko...?

I looked around but when I didn’t see anything even remotely resembling a “Yoshiko” in Katai’s apartment, I shrugged and got up to go look at the spreadsheet Katai had pulled up. “I think this is right,” I said, pointing at a familiar-looking line. “This is the business account we’re looking at.”

“Really?” Katai asked, sounding puzzled.

He raised his hand, the screen flickered again and a bar chart and some kind of graphic appeared on the right.

“It’s completely empty.”

“That means it’s the right one,” I said. “Can you trace the money from here, by any chance?”

“Let’s see.”

Once again, Katai raised his hand. The screen flickered a little, then glowed green but this time, no new windows popped up.

“Huh. That’s strange,” Katai muttered. “Let’s try something else.”

This time, he lifted both hands and pointed his fingers at the screen. I thought I felt an odd breeze waft about the room as that bright green glow returned but when both the breeze and the glow had died down, I saw that once again, there was no change to the screen.

“Katai-san,” I said slowly, “What’s happening...?”

“I can’t find it.”

“What?”

“I can’t trace the hack,” Katai said numbly. “Well, I tried but the money’s gone. It went to some other account I can’t get into.”

He gathered the futon covers more closely about his body and parked himself in front of the computer screen, muttering things I didn’t quite understand—it was probably computer speak of some sort. As he sat there mumbling to himself and trying to find a way around the security systems, shooting bolts of green lightning here and there out of his hands, I heard the door creak open and realized Kunikida was back. He wasn’t here for long and I watched as he grabbed another set of trash bags and headed back out the door.

“So you two are old friends, huh?” I asked, glancing back at Katai the moment Kunikida was gone. “How... did you guys meet?”

Katai stopped mumbling to himself long enough to shoot back a quick reply.

“He dragged me out of my home and brought me to the Agency. They needed my help with something...”

He shuddered.

“It’s been a while and honestly I can’t remember the details too well.”

It’s either that or maybe he doesn’t actually want to recall them, I thought as I saw Katai huddle himself deeper in his blankets.

“Right... Katai-san? Can I ask you something else?”

I shot a quick look behind me to make sure Kunikida was still out in the hall. At first, Katai didn’t seem to have heard me but when I realized he was sitting stock-still, waiting for me to ask, I went for it.

“Why... did you think I was Kunikida-san’s fiance?”

Katai stopped shivering long enough to turn towards the right wall again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked blankly. “You seem close. He doesn’t usually go out of his way to help the newbies. Unless, of course, he vouched for you to join the Agency and is now acting as your mentor?”

“He is,” I admitted, feeling my heart sink slightly.

I rubbed my arm.

So that was it. I was half-hoping maybe Katai saw something I hadn’t when he’d assumed Kunikida and I were together but turns out, it was just Kunikida being a professional and being kind to me. As usual.

I sighed.

“How about this...” Katai said, slowly.

He sat up a little more so that the covers fell off his shoulders and piled around his torso. He turned once again to the wall on the right and spoke.

“I’m going to see if I can trace Tsushima’s activity, since I can’t get into whatever sort of ‘bank account’ is being used to store the money. If I do that, I should be able to find either the money or the person.”

He readjusted his glasses and readjusted his position in the futon.

“We should wait for your case partner before I do this. He’s going to want to see the findings too, regardless of the result.”

“Case partner?” I asked, “But Dazai’s not even here—”

“Dazai-san is your case partner?” Katai asked, sounding very surprised. “But I thought Kunikida-san was working with you? He’s the one who brought you to see me.”

I shook my head but switched to talking when I remembered Katai wouldn’t be able to see it, since he still wasn’t looking at me.

“No, Kunikida-san isn’t my case partner. Well, not this time, anyway. He was just nice enough to introduce me to you since you know each other so well.”

“I see...” Katai mumbled, rubbing his chin. “Seems you’re pretty lucky, Kusunoki-san.”

I stared at him.

“Lucky...? What do you mean by that?”

Katai shrugged. Still not looking me in the eye, he spoke.

“He doesn’t usually take time out of his busy schedule to help the newbies on case, unless it’s a case he’s already working or it’s something big enough to affect the whole city.”

He tapped one of the computer towers.

“He must like you a lot.”

“Katai-san...”

I felt a small, sheepish smile crawl across my face.

What a nice thing to say. But could it actually be true...?

Just then, my phone started buzzing in my pocket but when it took it out so I could read the message, my smile disappeared.

“So, did you confess yet?” it read.

I sighed.

Dazai.

I didn’t even feel like acknowledging the text, so I held my phone as close to my body as I could, preparing to erase it. But before I could hit “delete,” a second, more incriminating message appeared and this one almost made my heart stop in my chest.

“You should! I made sure all the conditions were absolutely perfect before you left for Katai’s place.”

I heard a subtle creaking from the antechamber, followed by several heavy footsteps and I realized Kunikida was on his way back in.

“How’s it going in there?” he called as he walked towards us.

Shit!

Feeling frantic, I hurried to shoot back a text before Dazai could say anything else but it was too late—the phone was going off again.

“Don’t forget,” the words popped up on the screen, as I scrambled to type something back, “He thinks you’re cute!”

Stop! Stop texting me!

“Find anything important?” Kunikida asked, sitting down next to me just as the final message (and nail in my coffin) appeared with a tinny eight-bit chime.

“;)”

I blanched. Without thinking about what I was doing, I tried to shove the phone inside my jacket to hide it. However, in my panic, I’d completely forgotten there weren’t any pockets on the inside and the phone clattered noisily to floor, where it fell face up on the tatami mats, screen unlocked, the winky face emoticon on full display.

Kunikida cleared his throat.

“Uh,” he started.

Quick as a flash, I grabbed the phone and this time, managed to successfully put it in my skirt pocket.

Kunikida raised an eyebrow.

“...Was that Dazai?” he asked quietly.

“Y-yeah, he just wanted to know what we got so far...”

“I see.”

Luckily, Katai chose this moment to call out to us.

“I found something!”

Ahead of us, the screens were changing rapidly, as Katai continued tracing Tsushima. Window after window popped up on the monitor, each one getting covered by a new one so quickly I couldn’t see what was happening.

“I’m tracing Tsushima’s activity right now,” Katai said. “It’s quite the rabbit hole we’re going down. It looks like he’s virtually dropped off the face of the earth about a month ago. I can’t find anything on him that’s more recent.”

I stared.

“What? But the company thinks he stole the money—”

“That’s the thing,” Katai interrupted, looking perplexed, “every bank account that he’s even remotely involved in shows no activity—even the ones he managed at the company, and there were a lot of those. It looks like he hasn’t spent any money at all himself either. What’s more interesting is this.”

He directed his left index finger at the screen and a window with columns of numbers and names appeared.

“This is a security log. It looks like someone used Tsushima’s company badge to get into the building just yesterday evening.”

“Yesterday evening?” I repeated.

And that bomb had gone off in that same building just this morning. No wonder Tanaka was having his bodyguard vet everyone. He’d probably increased security because he knew there would be some kind of threat. Dimly, I thought back to the dead black bird I’d seen in Tanaka’s trash can this morning.

“I’m going to see if I can pull up alternate identities for Tsushima,” Katai said, already bringing up several new windows on a second monitor. “Perhaps he’s still active, just not using the name Tsushima Shuji any more. If so, I should be able to find something...”

As Katai continued trying to track down Tsushima, I chanced a look at Kunikida on my left. He looked like he was watching the screen and I could see the lines of green text scrolling across Katai’s monitors reflected in his narrow, rectangular glasses but behind them, the expression his gray-green eyes looked faraway, thoughtful...

Was he thinking about the texts I’d gotten from Dazai? Or was he just thinking about my case?

“I found something,” Katai declared.

A window with several folders appeared on his main monitor. The first one looked faded, the image appearing faded with some kind of gray overlay. A symbol that looked like a lock flickered over the screen. Katai pointed a finger at it and at once, the lock symbol disappeared; the color of the folder immediately brightened up and the folder flipped open.

“This is Tsushima’s employee file,” Katai said. “Rather poorly encrypted if you ask me—this was by far the easiest thing I’ve hacked all day. Looks like the data in this file is very, very old.”

A document appeared on the screen.

“I see...” Katai mumbled, scrolling through it. “The name Tsushima Shuji seems to be some kind of alias. His real name is...”

A second document appeared but the moment I saw the name and address at the top, I felt my blood turn to ice in my veins. Feeling almost dizzy in my confusion, I climbed to my feet and approached the monitor, my hand outstretched towards the image.

“The address is wrong,” I whispered, barely hearing Katai’s protests and touching the screen. “This is wrong.”

“Kusunoki?” Kunikida murmured.

I could sense him getting up and following me to the wall of monitors, but I could not tear my eyes away from the photograph that had just appeared on Katai’s monitor.

There, in the middle of the screen, was a very familiar photograph of a thin man, with small, dark eyes and a tiny pair of round, circular glasses perched elegantly on his slightly hooked nose. It was a picture of Yamazaki Shuji, Mrs. Yamazaki’s husband and appeared to have been taken within a few years of the one hanging in Mrs. Yamazaki’s apartment living room.

***

“Kusunoki-kun!”

Kunikida was calling for me but I was barely aware of it. I had only one thing in mind and that was getting to the apartment listed as Mr. Yamazaki’s as quickly as possible.

What was going on? Why was Mr. Yamazaki’s address listed as a place two blocks from here when Mrs. Yamazaki told me he was living and working abroad?

“Kusunoki-kun!!” Kunikida’s voice echoed after me as I tore down the hall, heading for the stairs. “Come back!!”

But even as I heard his heavy footsteps chasing after me, I’d already reached the outside. Flinging open the main door of Katai’s apartment complex, I burst into the bright afternoon sun, blinking and rubbing my eyes as I ripped out my phone and punched in the address I’d seen on Katai’s monitor. It took only a second to plot a route and the instant the map appeared on my screen, I raced down the quiet, empty streets.

What was Mr. Yamazaki doing in Yokohama, working with an investment firm that likely had ties to the Port Mafia? Had someone stolen his identity? Or worse...

I felt my feet slow as a horrible thought condensed in my head.

What if Mr. Yamazaki was involved in something shady? Something that had to do with the building being blown up this morning or Mrs. Yamazaki being murdered in my vision...? Was I about to find something horrible in that apartment down the street?

I must’ve gone halfway down the block when Kunikida finally caught up to me. Though I was no longer running away from him, he grabbed me roughly by the arm and jerked me back with one powerful tug, spinning me all the way around so that I was forced to look him in the face.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, his breath coming in sharp gasps, “Didn’t you hear me calling after you?”

Barely...

“Not really,” I mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

I tried to shake my elbow out of his grip but Kunikida was not having it.

“Did you hear nothing I said to you at the infirmary this morning?” he snapped, his grip tightening around my arm. “About being reckless and endangering yourself?”

His gray-green eyes flashed angrily.

“Why the hell are you running off without warning again and what exactly are you trying to do? Answer me!!”

Wincing at the sheer volume of his voice, I managed to answer in a small, shaky voice.

“I... I’m going to Yamazaki Shuji-san’s apartment.”

Kunikida didn’t seem to understand. His eyebrows furrowed together and he didn’t let go of my arm.

“The man you’re trying to track down?”

“Yes,” I said, unease gnawing at my insides as the name physically crossed my lips. “I recognize that photo. That’s the same Yamazaki Shuji-san who’s married to Yamazaki Tomie-san, my old neighbor.”

“Yamazaki Tomie,” Kunikida repeated slowly, his grip on my arm finally loosening when he sensed I was no longer going to run. “Wasn’t she the person whose murder you witnessed with your power?”

Unable to meet Kunikida’s eyes, I nodded, letting my arm dangle limply in my mentor’s grip.

“I don’t understand why but according to what Katai-san found, Yamazaki Shuji-san’s home address is listed as a place close by, not the apartment where his wife lived. She... his wife told me he lived and worked abroad and that he’s almost never here in Yokohama. But.. if he is here and he seems to be involved with that company somehow...”

I stared at the red ribbon tied around Kunikida’s neck, feeling oddly like I’d regressed to my old shut-in self, unable to look my mentor in the face the way Katai hadn’t been able to look at me.

“Then I need to find out why. If Katai-san’s information is correct, then something strange is going on with Yamazaki Shuji. It looks like he handled large sums of money when he worked with the company and to be honest with you...”

I stared down at his shoes.

“This makes me afraid that Yamazaki Tomie-san is still in danger of being murdered. I need to do what I can to keep her safe.”

I bit my lip.

“Kunikida-san... You should go back without me. I’ve taken up enough of your time already and this address is really close by. I’ll go investigate Shuji-san before I head back to the Agency—”

“No.”

I snapped up to look at him.

“No—? What do you mean ‘no?’” I exclaimed, “It’s my case—!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Kunikida’s voice was firm.

“I’m coming with you.”

I was confused.

“Kunikida-san...?”

He let go of me and my arm finally slid out of his grip. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Kunikida looked troubled.

“Why?”

“I may not be working this case with you,” Kunikida said quietly, pulling out his notebook and writing several things down very quickly, “but President Fukuzawa tasked me with taking care of you... and I take that duty very seriously.”

Slapping his notebook shut, he looked up at me, his gray-green eyes as hard as steel behind his thin, rectangular glasses.

“You can investigate the rest of the case on your own but I would be a fool to let you go to that apartment unaccompanied—especially in light of the explosion at the company headquarters this morning.”

He gripped his notebook hard, his knuckles blanching against the olive-green cover.

“I’m not letting you get hurt. Not while I’m still here...”

“K-Kunikida-san...?

My fingers flew to my lips, my pulse suddenly racing.

Was Katai right? Was Kunikida being nice to me because...?

“W-what I’m trying to say,” Kunikida said, the tips of his ears turning pink, “is that from the way you behaved just now, it’s clear that you’re still just as reckless as ever.  If you go in that apartment by yourself and something happens, how would any of us be able to reach you in time?”

I let my hands drop away from my face, my cheeks coloring now from shame rather than excitement.

Oh.

“I see,” I mumbled, lifting my phone back up. “I guess I should text Dazai-san then, since it’s his case too. Let him know what’s going on...”

So that’s it. Kunikida-san still thinks I can’t handle myself...

I sighed.

Not that I’d done anything to prove him wrong...

Swiping through the screen to get rid of my map, I found the last series of texts Dazai had sent me and shot a quick message back. But as soon as I closed the text app, I found myself staring at the set of photos I had taken just this morning, at Minato Mirai.

It felt like so long ago, I thought, staring at the photo of the pastel-toned skyline I’d meant to send Kunikida early this morning but forgotten to in the chaos.

Was there any point to still sending it? Now that I knew what Kunikida really thought of me...?

“Kusunoki-kun?”

I jumped, nearly dropping my phone. I hadn’t been expecting that deep voice to be coming from so close by and when I looked up, squeezing my phone tightly between my fingers, I saw that Kunikida was standing very close to me. His sage-colored eyes were soft and contemplative as he observed me and although I knew he thought of me only as a troublesome kohai, I felt my heart race just a little bit faster. He was just so tall and so attractive up close...

“Y-yes?” I asked, heart hammering in my chest.

Kunikida’s gaze flicked down to my phone momentarily before coming back up to meet mine.

“Is... everything okay?” he asked, “With Dazai, that is...”

Unsure of what his tone was, I studied him.

“What do you mean?”

Why was he asking about Dazai?

“Y-yes,” I answered, feeling oddly hesitant. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Kunikida rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. I noticed that he still hadn’t put his notebook away. One of his fingers was still sandwiched between the pages and...

Wait.

I squinted.

..was that page fifty-three?

“Well,” he began, his eyes flitting away from me once again as the corners of his lips dropped down into a frown. He was clearly deep in thought.

“I know Dazai-san is not the easiest person to get along with and I know that he likes to push peoples’ buttons. But more than that, I know how he is with women... and I know that you’ve spent a fair amount of time together since the beginning...”

His gray-green eyes met mine once more.

“Kusunoki-kun... did something...?”

He trailed off and I got his meaning at once.

“NO!” I exclaimed, raising my hands even as the color rose in my cheeks. “No! Absolutely not! Nothing is going on with Dazai-san, I swear—”

I was interrupted by a small ping from my phone. I looked down and to my horror, saw that I had just received yet another text message from Dazai.

“A beautiful morning indeed. But it still pales in comparison to you. ;)”

In my haste to put the phone away earlier, I’d accidentally sent the photo meant for Kunikida to Dazai.

And Dazai had just responded.

Shit. Even when he wasn’t here, he was still somehow able to ruin everything...!

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I glanced back up at Kunikida, trying to wipe the scowl off my face in favor of something more neutral, more professional...

“Nothing’s going on between me and Dazai-san,” I said firmly.

Kunikida didn’t look entirely convinced.

“You sure?” he asked, crossing his arms.

I nodded and he sighed.

“The only reason I ask is... Lately, I’ve seen the two of you talking together. A lot. And it seems like after speaking with him, you get... agitated. I don’t know what the exact nature of these conversations is but...”

His frown deepened and now I could clearly see the look of concern on his face.

“If you’re really not getting along... if he’s doing or saying anything that’s upsetting to you...”

“Kunikida-san...”

It physically hurt to see that look on Kunikida’s handsome face and without meaning to, I reached out to touch his arm.

If only I could tell him the truth... that I liked him—really liked him, and that the only secrets I was keeping from him were about his notebook and my feelings...

But I wasn’t ready yet. I still wasn’t anywhere near close to his level or his ideal woman right now and he and I both knew it.

It was just too soon...

“We can reassign you,” he said finally.

I stopped reaching for him at once.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to work with him if you don’t want to,” Kunikida said as I quickly moved to shove both hands back into my pockets as far as they would go. “We won’t push you to. If spending time alone with Dazai is proving to be too much for you—”

“It’s not,” I said quickly. “I can handle him, Kunikida-san, I mean it.”

And if I couldn’t now, I’d find a way to as soon as possible. For you, Kunikida-san...

I pulled my phone back out, outright deleted the message from Dazai (if I needed to contact him again, I’m sure he’d somehow find a way to reach me first) and pulled out the map once again.

“We should get going,” I said, glancing down the street, which was still mostly empty, “Shuji-san’s apartment is pretty closeby. I think we’ve only got a block and a half to go...”

Trailing off, I looked back up at Kunikida, who was once again writing something down in his notebook. When he noticed I was looking, he quickly closed the notebook with an audible snap. For a brief moment, there was an unreadable expression in his eyes, similar to the one I’d seen in Dazai’s earlier this morning, while we were leaving Minato Mirai.

I studied him.

“Kunikida-san...” I trailed off. “Is everything...?”

Suddenly, there was a sound like a cannon going off, as if someone had detonated a firework too close to the ground. The pavement shook and I was instantly thrown off balance, stumbling forward until I nearly collided with Kunikida’s chest. Thankfully, the tall, blonde detective was quicker to respond than I was and he grabbed hold of me before I could fall any further.

There was another distant rumble, like an aftershock. Kunikida’s arms instantly tightened around me and I felt all the blood in my veins turn to fire when I realized Kunikida Doppo was actually holding me in his arms.

“Kusunoki,” he gasped, “Are you alright?”

For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe, much less answer.

Kunikida’s gray-green eyes were so much greener and more beautiful up close; I could see flecks of gold and brown in his irises as he stared down at me, his thick blonde brows furrowed together in concern.

“Kusunoki...?”

“I’m... I’m fine...”

I couldn’t look away from his eyes and though the ground had finally stopped shaking, I still found myself unable to stand. Kunikida’s arms felt so strong and secure around me. I felt so safe here in his arms and when I breathed in, I could smell a subtle fragrance, like citrus or spice... some kind of cologne or aftershave...

He smells really good... Would he notice if I laid my head against his chest?

But then a second explosion sounded—too soon after the first—and this time, I turned around just in time to see a fireball punching into the sky.

“Oh no...”

The explosions were coming from two streets away... around the area where Mr. Yamazaki’s apartment was supposed to be.

Exchanging a quick glance, we hurriedly parted from each other and began sprinting towards the area together. We arrived just in time to see a small stream of people rushing out of the building, several of whom were already on their phones, frantically babbling to relatives or the authorities. Thick black smoke was billowing out of the shattered windows of a single apartment room three stories up, flames licking the tops of the ruined window frames as tiny pieces of broken glass and blackened wood rained down on the street below. As we stopped on the street corner opposite the building, I heard a tell-tale wail of sirens as a fire engine came rushing towards us from far away, the shouts of the military police following closely in their wake.

Numbly, shakily, I pulled out my phone and checked the address I’d entered. Mr. Yamazaki had been living on the third floor. If he had been in the room at the time of the explosion, then that meant he was probably dead...

I wobbled on my feet.

“We were too late...”

“Too late?”

Kunikida’s voice was suddenly as cold as ice. I turned around to see him staring at me incredulously, his notebook clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were going white, indents appearing on the olive green cover as he unconsciously began to make a fist. Although he was standing perfectly still, the very air around him seemed to crackle with energy, like the brief moment of calm before the storm and I felt my breath catch in my throat as I saw the clouds gathering in his eyes, now more slate-gray than green.

Kunikida was angry.

Very angry.

His eyes narrowed sharply and I braced myself.

“Too late?!” he spat, marching towards me. “And just what do you mean by that?”

He stopped just before me, his fists shaking with barely suppressed rage as he glared down at me, his glasses flashing in the glow of the fire like lightning.

“If you or I had been in there,” he whispered harshly, “We would’ve gotten blown up along with everyone and everything else inside that room! Kusunoki, you don’t even know if Yamazaki Shuji was in there!”

“Th-that’s true...”

But something wasn’t right. The gears in my head started turning.

“Why blow up Yamazaki Shuji’s apartment?” I wondered out loud. “Did someone figure out for sure that he was the one stealing the money? Even Dazai-san and I didn’t get that far yet.”

If only I’d been able to go in and take a look... but as it stood...

I glanced back up at the apartment, staring at the third story windows, where Mr. Yamazaki’s apartment should have been.

Any evidence that may have been inside that room had just gone up in smoke... along with Mr. Yamazaki, if he had been in there.

“There must have been something in there,” I thought aloud. “Evidence. Something important. Maybe someone was trying to cover their tracks by destroying the evidence or Yamazaki-san.”

I turned to face Kunikida.

“What do you think?”

“That’s possible,” Kunikida replied, his voice low, “But whoever’s involved could also be trying to get rid of the detectives investigating before they can figure out the truth behind these thefts.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than I heard a loud rushing noise, followed by a thunderous crack coming from somewhere behind me. I whirled around just in time to see every window in the third story row shatter in a spectacular blaze of heat and light as something I could only describe as an actual comet came barreling towards me—

“KUSUNOKI—!!”

And then it was gone—blocked from view by a tall figure wearing beige and black clothes...

Time seemed to slow. I could feel my body falling backwards. A ball of flame soared overhead, just past my face, past the long, blonde ponytail sailing in the air before me. A burning ember landed on the tip of my nose and I felt it sizzle against my skin...

I hit the ground. Asphalt crunched underneath my back as I landed painfully in the middle of the street, all the air knocked out of my lungs by the heavy weight now resting on top of me. I could still feel the heat of the burning projectile on the side of my face as it landed nearby, smoldering in a tiny, cracked crater in the road. I heard someone groan—someone with a deep, masculine voice and I felt everything come to a standstill when I realized who was on top of me.

Kunikida Doppo was on top of me.

“Kusunoki...”

His voice was low and husky in my ear as he spoke and his body was warm and solid against mine. I could actually feel every muscle in his body shifting as he pushed himself up and off of me and in a brief moment of insanity, I considered pulling him back down with me.

That moment ended when I heard him take in a breath that sounded more like a soft hiss of pain.

“K-Kunikida-san?”

As he got to his feet, I instantly understood why I hadn’t hit my head when I’d gone down. Kunikida had cradled the back of my skull with one large hand as I fell.

He’d protected me again.

Now, his black sleeves were scuffed up, even ripped in some places and there were deep, bloody scratches on the back of his hand. When he gingerly extended that hand out towards me to help me up, I felt the flush of excitement in my cheeks morph into one of deep-seated guilt.

I couldn’t look at him as I took his hand. The pull of my Ability could barely be felt through the shame.

It was my fault he’d gotten hurt...

“You okay?” Kunikida asked, pulling me to my feet.

Stop it. Stop being so kind to me and putting yourself in harm’s way for me... I don’t deserve it.

I nodded, still staring at the blood welling on his pale skin.

“Yeah. You?”

Kunikida lifted his hand to his face, glanced at it, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. I mentally kicked myself for not offering one first.

“I’m fine.”

As I watched him wipe away the blood on the back of his hand, I checked my pockets for bandages. But they were all in my bag—the messenger bag that I’d left behind at the Agency office. I hung my head.

“I’m sorry, Kunikida-san.”

“It’s alright. It’s just a scratch,” Kunikida said, putting his handkerchief away. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

I thought I saw a shadow of a smile cross his face as he looked at me and for a moment, I wished that he wasn’t here and that I had gotten hurt. I would’ve deserved it. It was my fault for not paying attention and being reckless in the first place.

I should be the one with torn sleeves and bloody knuckles. Not him...

I felt something burning behind my eyes and looked away when I realized I was going to cry.

If only I was half the woman described in his notebook... Kunikida’s ideal woman wouldn’t need to be protected like this. If I were anywhere close to his ideal, I would’ve been able to protect him...

As I struggled to regain my composure, I heard Kunikida speak.

“Kusunoki...”

I pressed my hand into my eyes to push away the tears, not caring that what little eye makeup I’d succeeded in putting on this morning was going to run and blinked up at him.

“Yeah?”

Kunikida’s gray-green eyes hardened just a fraction and he pressed his lips into a stern line.

“I think it’s best we take you off the case.”

For a second, I thought I hadn’t heard him correctly. But when I realized he was serious, my jaw dropped.

“What...? Why?!”

“It’s clear that you’re looking into something very dangerous here,” Kunikida stated, already taking out his green notebook. “You almost got caught in two explosions today: the one this morning at the company and this one here. Unless you can stop being reckless and start thinking ahead when you’re out on an investigation, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

I fell silent.

I hated to admit it but he was right. If I wanted to become a better detective, I was going to have to start doing better. Especially if I still wanted to earn Kunikida’s respect before confessing my feelings for him.

Kunikida sighed and started writing in his notebook.

“If Dazai-san still needs a case partner, I’ll have Atsushi-kun take your place. He’s already used to working with Dazai-san and he’s got combat experience. Maybe we can just have you swap assignments—”

“No.”

I was surprised he could hear me over the roar of the flames and the squealing of the sirens as the fire department finally arrived but he had.

Kunikida put down his notebook. His eyes narrowed.

“No?” he echoed, as if not sure what he had heard me correctly. “What do you mean ‘no?’”

“I said ‘no,’” I repeated, standing up straighter. “You’re not taking me off this case, Kunikida-san. Not when I’m finally figuring things out.”

If I left now, I’d never find out why Mrs. Yamazaki was supposed to be murdered in the first place. I didn’t want to leave if there was still a threat to her life. And if I left now... Kunikida would never respect me as a detective or a woman.

And what I want...

I lifted my head and firmly met his gaze.

...is to be a woman who can stand beside him. One who doesn’t need to be protected or hide behind his back.

Kunikida’s eyes flashed.

“Stand down, Kusunoki. That’s an order.”

“NO!!” I shouted.

Surprised by the sheer volume of my voice, Kunikida was stunned into silence.

“Three times...” I said quietly.

My hands were shaking and I clasped them together to make them stop. I felt the bandage over the back of my hand stretching against my skin.

“You’ve saved me three times now, Kunikida-san. First there was the art gallery. Then there was the serial kidnapper. And now, this.”

I swallowed dryly and continued staring into his eyes, slate-gray and unyielding, the softer tinge of green washed away by the harsh glow of the burning apartment.

“I... I don’t want you to see me as someone who always needs to be saved.”

I want to stand on equal ground with you. I want you to acknowledge me. I...!

Squeezing my eyes shut, I opened my mouth and let the words burst out.

“I want to become a woman worthy of your respect!”

For a moment, all I could hear was the dull, dwindling roar of the apartment fire across the street. There were a few scattered shouts and I could smell the pungent aroma of smoke and wet wood wafting through the air as the fire department managed to put out the blaze at last. Kunikida wasn’t speaking and neither was I and the words seemed to hang in the air between us like a dense cloud of smoke.

“Respect... huh,” Kunikida said at last.

I brought my hands up to my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, turning red, “I said something weird, didn’t I?”

That was too close for comfort—if things had gone on like this for too long, I might’ve accidentally confessed!!

I thought Dazai and his stupid text messages hadn’t gotten to me, but clearly they had...!!

“No. No, you didn’t,” Kunikida replied, covering up the lower half of his face and turning away from me.

Huh? Was I imagining it? Maybe it was just the lighting but... his face looked a little pink...

“I suppose I didn’t treat Atsushi-kun quite like this when he first started with us,” Kunikida admitted, running his uninjured hand through his choppy blonde bangs, “but Atsushi-kun also didn’t behave in such a way—no wait, he did. He was just able to fight his way out of it.”

And with that, Kunikida covered his face with both hands and let out a muffled scream of frustration. I watched, dumbfounded, as he started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk like a caged animal with his hands still glued to his face, which was slowly getting pinker and pinker the longer this went on. Whatever was going on in his head, Kunikida seemed to be at a loss. He was mumbling unintelligibly to himself under his breath as he paced and although seeing him like this worried me a little, I still found it kind of cute...

“Uh... Kunikida-san?”

At the sound of my voice, Kunikida stopped pacing immediately.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he sighed, finally taking his hands off his face (which was now bright red). “I have been treating you with kid gloves. Fine.”

I breathed in sharply.

“Fine?”

“I won’t take you off the case,” Kunikida clarified, “But if—and only if—you promise me you’re going to start prioritizing your own safety above the case. I’ll talk to Dazai about it so he knows as well but if you do one more reckless thing while working on this assignment, you’re done. You got that?”

I could’ve hugged him. But that would definitely be too much so I chose to bow as low as I could instead.

“Thank you!” I gasped. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Kunikida sighed. “Work hard, Kusunoki-kun. Take care of yourself and work hard and you’ll become a detective anyone can respect.”

He turned on his heel and strode back towards Katai’s place, his notebook tucked safely back into his vest.

“Now, come on. I think Katai wanted to give you some printouts before you ran out earlier. We’ll let the police handle this and you can get any relevant reports from them tomorrow.”

“Yes!”

As I chased after him down the sidewalk, I turned slightly to shoot one final look at the smoldering apartment behind me. Whatever was going on, I was going to get to the bottom of it. And it looked like I was going to need more information on my old neighbors to do it.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #kunikida x oc #kunikida x reader #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida #bsd kunikida doppo #bsd dazai #dazai x oc

[emeraldtawny]

Hi! You know how Dazai always calls the MC by other women's names? I have a feeling that by the end of his route, he'll reintoduce himself by his real name (bc Dazai Osamu is just a pen name), Tsushima Shuji!

Ooooh, I like the idea of that! That would be a nice little reversal from fake names to real name.

I also hope his reason for calling MC different names isn’t just swept into the “oh, funny author haha” bin. I WANT AN EXPLANATION! Because it’s clear he knows her real name...just a case of why he doesn’t use it.

Either way I am so freaking excited hfbdhdjdjhdhd

#ikevam #ikevamp #ikevam dazai #thank you for the ask anon! #I love screaming about my men...especially men i have TONS of theories on 👀

[multi-mused-menagerie]

━━━━━ ✮ CHARACTER HEADCANONS | DAZAI OSAMU OVERVIEW (BNHA VERSE)

UNDER THE CUT DUE TO MENTIONS OF DEATH, SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, HEAD TRAUMA, AND EYE TRAUMA

DAZAI’S REAL NAME IS TSUSHIMA SHUJI. They grew up in isolation for the majority of their childhood, their parents fearing that the Hero Public Safety Commission would learn about their quirk (Quirk Nullification) and therefore keep a closer eye on their family, making it more difficult to use Tsushima for their own goals. The only people they ever saw besides their parents were tutors and the family’s personal doctor, Mori.

TSUSHIMA WAS TAKEN IN BY MORI WHEN THEY WERE ONLY THIRTEEN YEARS OLD. After both of their parents had died under “mysterious circumstances”, Mori simply brought the child back with him to the Port Mafia, changing their name to Dazai Osamu and registering them as quirkless. As for how Dazai’s parents died, the only people who really know what happened are Mori, Hirotsu, and Dazai.

DAZAI’S RIGHT EYE IS FAKE. A week after their parents’ deaths and after a week of being placed in Mori’s care, they attempted to commit suicide by jumping off of a bridge. They were thirteen years old. Dazai themself has no idea what exactly happened but based on the reports and photos that were taken (they could see the inside of their skull), they can only assume that they did not hit the water and instead hit the ground. Miraculously, their skull was able to be repaired and they apparently had no major brain damage (later on, Dazai would develop severe headaches and seizures if under enough stress due to this event), but their right eye was not so lucky. Due to the blunt trauma delivered to their head, Dazai’s right eye suffered a globe rupture, permanently damaging it. While Mori waited a few days to see if the damage could be healed, it became apparent that because of their young age and weak immune system from growing up isolated, Dazai would suffer more complications from infection if the eye was not removed. So, not wanting his new tool to die, Mori had an enucleation (a surgery resulting in the removal of the entire eyeball) performed on Dazai. During this time, Dazai was not awake and was instead put in a medically induced coma to make the treatments/surgeries go smoothly. When they woke up, their right eyelids were sewn close (a common occurrence after enucleation) and covered with bandages. A few days later, once they were able to walk with impaired vision, Dazai was officially put to work in the Port Mafia, bandages still covering their face due to the stitches and the fact that their prosthetic wasn’t ready yet. They would continue to wear the bandages for four years, only stopping once they left the Port Mafia.

DAZAI’S RELATIONSHIPS WITH ODA AND ANGO AND THEIR REASONS FOR LEAVING THE PORT MAFIA ARE NOT THE SAME. Most of the events that happen in BSD do not happen to Dazai in their MHA verse due to Chuuya (@/allquirked) leaving the Port Mafia after only a year of being Dazai's partner. Since Chuuya was largely Dazai's main reason for wanting to live (Chuuya showing them that there were interesting people in the world and giving them some form of hope that life had meaning), having their partner leave suddenly affected Dazai more than they'd like to admit, making them withdraw in on themself out of fear that anyone they met would suddenly leave them (meaning that they never met Odasaku or Ango in this verse). Once they discover that Chuuya works for the Commission, that fear becomes anger, partially at Chuuya for being a government lapdog, but largely at the Commission for using the both of them as pawns. As such, Dazai actually ends up leaving the Port Mafia around the age of 17, largely in part due to wanting to dismantle the Commission and hero society instead of following Mori's orders to work in tandem with them.

DAZAI DOES NOT WORK FOR THE ADA. Currently, Dazai works as an informant for the League of Villians, specializing in gathering information online and in person (the former method being their prefered choice). Occasionally, they’ll do freelance work for smaller organizations, offering a nice discount if said organization is working against the Commission.

#✧finally decided to fix up their verse gnerjgne #a lot of it is the same only now i get to experiment with a dazai who was given hope and had it ripped away from them at a younger age #fun :D✧ #✮ ill be the hero and no one can stop me | fandom; boku no hero academia #✮ in accord to what you can’t find | headcanons; dazai osamu #✮ where was the substance of this thing called society | bnha verse; dazai osamu #✮ cause i told you my level of concern; but you walked by like you never heard | dazai osamu x nakahara chuuya; allquirked #✮ play among the stars | user; allquirked #tw: death mention #tw: suicide attempt #tw: head trauma #tw: eye trauma #tw: eye gore #tw: eye horror

[breathless-darkness]

frozcnlight said

“I do—”, standing in front of the Altair once again, cladded in white and looking up at Dazai, she didn't hide her annoyance in those two, simple words. Not that she minded being his bride. But marrying the third time and then even in front of the goddamn Mafia… she really hoped there wouldn't be a fourth time.

Random plotting asks Status: Always accepting

How many times would this happen? He would stab someone violently , shoot them repeatedly, if he kept having to marry Miran. The first time had been romantic. The second time, he wanted to shoot each one of his family members dead. Especially when that name was spoken out loud. The worse was that now Mori knew his real name and he would never hear the end of it. “I do” although he had a mask om, it didn’t mask his own annoyance in those two words. 

Mori wasn’t suppose to know shit about him. Mori wasn’t suppose to encourage this shit. Though something about being the heir of Port Mafia, the youngest executive as well as part of a very influential family. It spelled his doom. The priest was slowly and a low growl left the brunette. “The words are ya may kiss the bride” he growled under his breath before pulling Miran into a kiss. It was passionate, of course, though it was full of annoyance. Not at her, but at the situation. Dazai had been put on the back burner and Shuji Tsushima was all that was said, though they had been nice enough to throw Dazai in during this ceremony. 

He pulled back , arms still holding Miran close to him. “Let’s skip the reception. I’ll help ya out of the dress” he purred into her ear slightly as he parted to take her hand to walk down the aisle. He would kill anyone who referred to him as Shuji. He was disowned from the fucking family! Except his eldest brother, Katsumi, had welcomed him back with open arms during the second ceremony . Or rather before , what led to the second one. He wasn’t allowed to drive, but it wouldn’t stop him from stealing a car and driving far off with Miran. 

Then again it wouldn’t be too hard to avoid the reception. He would just have to listen to all the comments later on. Though fuck it, he would kill all of the mafia if he had to handle them right now. Miran was probably the only one who could calm him down. He didn’t get bother when she called him ‘Shu’. She was the only one he accepted it from. Though anyone else he would utterly kill, especially if a certain chibi decided to call him Shuji or any variation. Murderous vibes were drifting off of the brunette as he lead Miran away. 

#It's a mad world (Dazai Osamu) #I'll leave my love hidden in the sun-- for when the darkness comes (Dazai X Miran) #Verse 2: There is a part of me that I try to hide (Mafia) #tw: murderous thoughts #We're slow dancing in a burning room (Queue) #Ride upon a shooting star (Asks) #frozcnlight

[the-canary]

No Longer Human: Dazai Osamu and Three Women

i wrote this for myself and maybe @phen0l​​ cause she’s the only else i know that has read dazai’s stuff. and thanks to my friend for putting up with me. 

i saw the movie during the japanese cuts hollywood fim festival and man, it was a ride. 

first of the movie is so bright and flowery. i just loved the shots with the flowers in them and you could tell from the beginning the flowers were going to be related/symbolize something. 

first off, this isn’t a book about the novel. it’s the year to year and a half that leads up to him writing this story and his final and truly successful suicide attempt.

the movie starts with showing one of dazai’s earlier suicide attempts with another woman. she dies while saying another man’s name and dazai manages to head back to shore. 

some editors betting on how dazai is going to die one day -- drugs, suicide, or women. they also talk dazai (real name tsushima shuji) being shown with his children. his wife is pregnant and dazai tends to lay about, trying to write but he’s stuck.

cue him getting letters from a fan, a sort of but not really rich woman named shizuko ota (there is plum blossoms everywhere during her scenes). she loves his short stories and wants to meet him, so she eventually heads over to his home. 

they talk/flirt in the opera. they mention art and how shizuko wants to write a story with dazai, but she also wants a baby. that’s the only way that dazai will get to see her journals, which he is really interested in. 

dazai agrees and ends up staying with shizuko for a while, sleeping together and just living in her home. this ends up with him writing “the setting sun” -- it’s a hit. 

he heads back home, getting a lot of attention from his peers and drinking on his sucess. he stops seeing shizuko and during one of these bar celebrations, he ends up meeting tomie (cherry flowers are her symbol).

dazai is successful, but it now stuck again on what he should write. he spends his time smoking, drinking and spending time with his intellectuals and tomie. sometimes, he sees his wife. 

he finds out shizuko’s pregnant and tells his editor to handle it. shizuko goes to the bar and meets tomie, but never gets dazai to look at her again. shizuko even tells tomie that the line (men are made for love and revolution is something she wrote) 

it should be noted that tomie becomes desperately connected to dazai. he is the only thing keeping her in this world and they promise to leave it together when the time comes.    

dazai is meant to be celebrated in for the setting sun and this scene shows that michiko (his wife) keeps a distance from his writing world and doesn’t really think much of it. she is duty full and does what needs to when it comes to her children (now 3) when dazai isn’t there.  

dazai is laughed at and he goes back to the bar where he is told what a true masterpiece it by ango. 

shizuko’s daughter is born and dazai is stated to be the father. tomie wants her own baby, and they go for it. 

dazai ends up in this state of not writing (at least in the movie) until shizuko sends him a letter that she wants her name on the setting sun. dazai states that he has to see her, but tomie declares that she will kill herself alone if she does. 

then he finds out he had turboculois. he is slowly dying with his family urging him to come back. but, he doesn’t -- he keeps at it and even gets into a fight with yukio mishima in the bar. he also gets caught by his family kissing tomie in some dark alley. 

he finds out he owes a lot of taxes and is stuck in this sort of bad luck cycle with his wife finally telling him to write and that he has to take care of the kids, while she is away mourning her sister.  

dazai starts writing short stories and after nearly dying in the snow, he starts writing no longer human. he is going to destroy everything in order so that he can finally move forward. cue scene of frantic writing with him writing a letter to michiko.

fast forward and it’s a rainy july, michiko is reading dazai’s letter as reporters wait outside her home, yelling at her that the bodies had been found. 

michiko heads out and starts hanging up laundry (with huge purple flowers blooming in her garden) as the sun starts coming up. she doesn’t say anything and they eventually leave. dazai had written to michiko that she was the only person he has ever loved. 

shizuko has released her own novel -- The Diary of the Setting Sun and is happy with her daughter and brother. 

the movie ends in the rain once more, dazai and tomie are tying themselves together. dazai tries to say that they can live together, but all tomie wants to do is die with him -- to show everyone their love. with a skeptical and somewhat disturbed look on his face, dazai agrees to with a kiss. 

i always had a certain viewpoint of dazai, as a long-suffering author, but it was surprising to see this POV of him as a flirty, charming, but kind of an asshole guy. i loved all the woman and how they acted and in their own way, they used dazai for their own means as well, though my heart really goes out to michiko for all she went through. it’s a very visual movie.

the music (jun miyake and tokyo ska paradise orchestra) are just awesome. i wish there had been more about his life from the start and his time with michiko (she points out they used to spend time in mount fuji when they were newlyweds with great nostalgia), but it is understandable that you would want to see the most messed part and where his suicide is finally successful.  

#osamu dazai #no longer human #fabiola out and about #No Longer Human: Dazai Osamu and Three Women #Ningen Shikkaku: Dazai Osamu to San Nin no Onnatachi #ningen shikkaku #fabiola trying to write

[misstinfoilhat]

The Boy in the Belfry Pt. 11, a Bungo Stray Dogs fic.

I might not be able to update this weekend, but you can read the whole story here. I’ve rewritten some parts for tumblr, nothing major. --- The door to the cool, tiled room opened and a familiar face appeared in the opening. A small streak of light shone on the battered face of the young teenager who sat, cradling himself on the floor.

Dazai's worried face snapped up as Mori entered the room. A twitchy but relieved smile became visible on the teens face in recognition, and Mori smiled back. Something seemed off though. Something in Mori's eyes.

Regret? Maybe even sorrow?

Dazai's faint smile morphed into a scream, as another dog was released into the room. ---

Mori stood expressionless and watched their prisoner. He had been fading in and out of consciousness since they arrived. The lack of smart remarks and smirks from his former apprentice was unnerving, to say the least. It was as if he was looking at the broken ten-year-old who he had saved from the very same man he now had returned him to, so many years ago.

Abducting him from the hospital had been easier than expected. As soon as The Babysitters Club had dispatched, he seemingly had free range. It turned out that there weren't many safety precautions there at all. Mori had walked in, wearing his old white coat and been assumed to be a doctor at the hospital. The elderly receptionist had not hesitated when giving up the room number, and he had walked in, injected the sleeping ADA agent with a mild tranquilizer, unhooked him from any tubes and wires and walked out of there with him in a wheelchair.

It was so easy that it almost felt anticlimactic. It only made him happy that the Port Mafia had their own medical wing, with a large staff and all the facilities necessary to treat any kind of sickness or injury.

The Armed Detective Agency clearly needed to step up their game.

The preacher himself was a big disappointment too. The large and intimidating figure was reduced to nothing more than a hunchbacked old man, who was clearly a little out of touch with reality and completely insane.

At the moment he was downstairs at the altar, switching between preaching and speaking in tongues to an imaginary congregation.

Mori chuckled. He had never in his life believed in any God.

Calmly, he walked towards Dazai, silently assessing his injuries and how much time he had left, if left in this hopeless state.

He reminisced about the first time he had seen Dazai. He passed the old church at random on his way to a mission, while a Sunday service had just finished. The preacher had stood grand and stoic, shaking every single hand as the crowd of people passed on their way out. Behind him stood a boy with half of his face covered in bandages, leaning heavily on crutches.

His black suit made him transparent with the dark walls of the church as he stood, terrified of meeting anyone's gaze. Almost invisible, to anyone but Mori.

To Mori, he shone bright like a firefly in the night. A forsaken soul, a fractured mind and an unforgivable sinner. He was perfect.

Mori asked around about the strange pair. It appeared that this preacher was well known in the more extremist Christian societies of the city at the time. The ones who longed and grasped at something or anything to save them and prove their faith. They would believe anything they were told (or in this case, shown, which further fueled the preacher's narcissism).

This was also the reason no one knew his actual name. In his everyday life, he had taken the name Gen'emon Tsushima (1), and he called Dazai, Shuji (2). But, he wanted to be known simply as the preacher. The Preacher. The one and only. He could show them God, but in his own mind, he probably was the man himself. There was no one registered by the names Gen’emon and Shuji Tsushima in Yokohama- not much research needed to find that out. The Preacher would only call Dazai by his real name whenever he was 'performing', an act that was exclusive and very expensive.

From that point forward, the arrangements had been easy, and Mori had manipulated the situation to seem like any other of the preacher's… gigs. 

The fact that the boy's mind had turned on his father was simply a very lucky coincidence.

Mori sighed and looked at the loosening bandages on Dazai's forearms. Every single day of Dazai's life was sketched onto his body in scars.

The leader of the Port Mafia scoffed as an ominous smile came to show on his lips.

---

“What has Skindiana Bones done this time?” sneered an aggravated Chuuya as he answered the phone.

“I might borrow that sometime,” Kunikida mumbled as he waited for the rest of the agency to get seated into the cars.

“Shut your face or tell me what's going on.”

“I wish I could, but I don't really know. Dazai disappeared from the hospital again sometime during the night.”

“I'm shocked,” he said nonchalantly, “but, I haven't heard anything from the bonehead.”

“We're going to The Shinja church right now, we've looked everywhere else.”

Kunikida waited for a reply. When it didn't come any, he continued.

“I thought you might like to know, in case you want to tag along.”

Another silent moment, before an exasperated sigh, was heard from the other end.

“Fine!” and a short 'fuck' was heard as the connection cut.

---

Chuuya wasted no time as he ran to his motorcycle. It was faster and made it easier to pass all the slowpokes on the road. He wondered if he should have told them that Dazai's father was back, but he had no idea how much they already knew. There was no time to explain.

Before starting his bike he suddenly remembered something. Another curse was whispered, as he ran back in to the house and retrieved a bag that he tucked safely in the compartment under the seat before he got on the bike and raced through the morning streets, feeling the fresh puddles of rainwater splash onto his calfs as he headed for that place that made his blood freeze. He just prayed (nonono, no way) hoped it hadn't gotten out of hand.

---

In a different part of town, two more vehicles were speeding towards the Shinja Church. There was no way to know what they would see when they arrived. Atsushi sat in the back of Kunikida's car with Kyouka, as he usually did. Restless legs shook while worried eyes looked out the windows and no one spoke.

Ranpo sat in the passenger seat up front, while Kunikda was driving. Yosano drove the other car, with Kenji and Tanizaki.

They had to park their cars across the street at a parking lot. While they all ushered out of the vehicles, a red and black motorcycle spun past them, and the redheaded driver threw his helmet to the curb and ran to the fence that embraced the dilapidated building.

“Chuuya!” Kunikida yelled as the ran across the road.

The gate was once again chained up, and the short man furiously shook the gate before he started climbing. Kunikida quickly pulled out his notebook and drew some boltcutters that he used to clip the lock.

The gate creaked open with the startled mafia executive on top of it, clinging to it desperately while it slid to the side.

“Patience, my friend,” Kenji smiled as they entered the property.

Chuuya gnarled something inaudible as he jumped off. Kunikida looked ready to open the door, but Chuuya fled up the few steps and stopped him.

“Wait,” he gasped. Kunikida looked confused at him, as Chuuya let go of his tight grip of the tall man's arm.

“The doors were bolted shut the last time we were here,” he said quietly. “There has definitely been someone in here since then. If it's...” how much should he actually tell them?

“Dazai's father?” Ranpo blurted out. Chuuya threw him a skeptical look.

“Do you already know?” he asked.

“No, we don't. It was an educated guess,” Ranpo explained, looking a bit ashamed.

“Well, you're probably right. And if this is in fact what is going on, Dazai might be in very real danger,” Chuuya explained. “Mori might be in there too. The leader of the Port Mafia.”

“Why haven't you told us this befo-” Kunikida's nostrils dilated and his cheeks flushed, but he got interrupted by a dangerous stare from the small man.

“Not the time, sunshine!” Chuuya sneered. “We need to get a move on.”

Chuuya had second thoughts, 'Shit, shit, shit, he's gonna hate me, he's gonna destroy me, completely obliviate me, he's gonna kill me...'

But, he was already here. And Dazai was in there.

He positioned himself to open the doors, and looked at the others, receiving a nod in return. They were ready.

The doors groaned loudly as they opened, and a deranged voice roamed through the voluminous room.

“Shower me in your light! I am nothing but a pawn. Please, listen to a sinners chagrin!”

The lights flickered, and the purple fog returned for the first time in twelve years.

Mori stood by the wall in the sanctuary, looking over to their newest arrivals with a satisfied grin.

Further down at the crossing, Dazai sat slumped on the stairs. He had been discarded of his hospital clothes and lay nearly bare except for the boxer shorts and bandages, half-conscious.

A couple of feet from him, stood The Preacher with his hands reached out and eyes closed as the dark haze engulfed his son's body once again.

Dazai's weak body trembled, from fear or from pain. Maybe both. The convolutions he was far too familiar with had started, turned more violent and soon he lay limp on his side.

The earth stood still. No sound, no light, no movement, no nothing.

Until suddenly Dazai arched his broken back with a loud gasp, as the blackened fog exited from his mouth and transformed to an apparition in front of him.

The newly entered crowd stood paralyzed, watching the unbelievable sight. 

Not only was this an ability that none of them had ever seen or heard of, but it worked on Dazai. The shock was even bigger as the apparition turned more and more recognizable.

Even Mori was stunned.

It was Dazai.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #Dazai Osamu #doppo kunikida #Nakahara Chuuya #protective kunikida #protective chuuya #mori ougai #Boy in the belfry #part 11

[suicidefrantic]

Hiroyoshi Tsushima

Name: Hiroyoshi Tsushima

Age: 32

Hair Colour | Eye Colour:  Orange | Violet 

Height: 176cm (5'9")

Family: Shuji (younger brother), Katsumi (elder brother)  Kazuya (younger brother), Takashi (younger brother), Yasuo (younger brother), Kouta (younger  brother) , Ren (younger sister) 

Likes:  Video Games, Technology, Success, Rain, Bubble Baths, Cats, Music (mostly pop, rock, and rap), The smell of lavender 

Hates: Not working at something, The colour yellow, Bees, Being alone, Death, Country music, Too many people

Affiliation: Tsushima Family , High Time Games (CEO of) 

Birthday: July 24 | Cancer

Sexuality: Questioning sexuality, Straight 

Birthplace: Kanagi, Japan 

Weapon: Throwing Knives 

Personality Traits: Ambitious, Businesslike, Hardworking, Proud, Reserved, Determined, Intelligent, Mature, Organized, Charming, Skillful, Sophisticated, Calculating, Clever, Competitive, Imagative

Ability: Life’s a Game: Hiroyoshi’s ability is a very interesting one, and probably the sole ability to anyone who loves gaming. Hiroyoshi breathes and lives games, and thus his ability would show as such. His ability has the process to create any space into a game, be it single player or multiplayer. He creates the rules in said space and acts as the final boss in the arena that he has created. Logic doesn’t exactly fully work in this space as things that shouldn’t be possible are in fact possible in the realm he creates. The sky's the limit when in a video game type setting. However, death is quite real and there are no do overs or extra lives. The time limit for this space is thirty minutes, unless he has a power-up and then it can last for a good hour-- if not longer. His ability depends greatly on his health and stamina-- just like in a video game. 

Bio: Hiroyoshi is the second eldest of the family and feels a lot of stress to succeed within the family. He moved out of the family manor when he turned eighteen and began to work towards his goal. He always loved video games, be it designing them or playing them. He was quite intelligent since he was a small child, he had a knack for putting things together. He chose to move away from the family home because it was too populated in his opinion and he found it hard to concentrate. Yet Hiroyoshi also hates being alone, thus finding himself spending a lot of time with his two cats (he considers them company enough.) 

He is still in contact with his family despite not showing up often enough. He owns a video game business which he is very proud of. He has slight OCD as well as ADD and needs to be constantly doing things or he feels like he will stagnate and get lazy. Laziness to him is his worst enemy. He hates the concept of dying himself, but he doesn’t mind if death is like a video game (thus comfortable killing if in his ability zone.) He fears his own death however , yet he does know he can not live forever. He doesn’t have an ill relationship with many of his family, he just questions Shuji but doesn’t truly hate him. 

Sometimes he feels like he is the most sane member of his family, and thus being around the whole family for long periods of times gives him migraines. He has quirks such as bouncing his leg and playing with the fabric of his clothing. He is reserved and businesslike, but still has a slight caring side if someone is able to get past what seems to be walls that he has up-- he doesn’t realize that he closes himself off to some extent. 

-He knows it is a disgusting habit but he smokes. He has tried to quit a few times, but it helps his stress levels-- especially when he is around his family for long period of time. 

#No game no life (Hiroyoshi Tsushima) #Muse Information Spotlight

[akutagawaprize]

Different anon but there actually is a manga artist named Aya Nakahara that some believe BSD Aya is based off of that may actually be the grandchild of the rl Chuya if he had more children before his first son died at 2(he himself died 10 months after) or even a great niece if he had any siblings. But it's also possible a pen name like for example Dazai's real name is Shuji Tsushima

Are you talking about this Nakahara Aya?  Not gonna lie, the Nakahara relation sounds like fanfic especially when Nakahara isn’t an uncommon name, but Imma keep an open mind. Besides, I remember enjoying Lovely Complex.

Speaking of grandchildren, Kunikida’s great granddaughter named Saila works as a model. Why did I bring this up? Just feeling like it~ ✧

#asks #bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #kunikida doppo