#If Dazai ever finds out Ango finds Chuuya attractive hes going for a gun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leonawriter · 4 years

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Fox-Faced

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs/Mononoke

Characters: Dazai, the Medicine Seller. Others mentioned. SKK implied.

Summary: Dazai is taking the time to contemplate how much has changed in so short a time, and his bench gets a visitor.

Notes: Dazai-typical suicide references.

(Part five of the “Not All Kitsune Have Nine Tails” ‘verse. Follows “Home Territory.” Contains important context for the previous stories.)

...

The brisk sea air is as familiar and as comforting as it always had been, even if it is deeper, more rich, and full of scents that Dazai had never known to be able to sort through or notice before. It isn't, at least, overwhelming - the city with its streets and cars and hundreds of people and all of its food and perfumes was harder for him to handle on that first night and the following day than this, which is, comparatively, peaceful and calming.

He can hear shouting in the distance, children playing with their parents and tourists from both further inland and far abroad talking about the sights in adequately amazed tones, because it is Yokohama after all, and no matter what else happened, it was still his city. Their city. The city that he and Chuuya and Atsushi had fought to protect, that he had protected even when he'd been in the mafia, that he was proud of.

He closes his eyes to focus on the sound of the waves and the cries of the seagulls, and he loses track of time. Perhaps he'd even started to doze off in the warmth of a bright, sunny day with clear skies. Normally, by this time Kunikida would be wondering where he was. Now that everyone at the Agency knew he was living with Chuuya, he won't have to worry about that... at least for a while yet.

Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

A breath of air comes out of him in a sigh, and he neither move to create space, nor turns his head to watch, when he hears someone coming close to his bench. Heavy steps, wooden sandals.

Ah, he thinks instead. You.

There are sounds as if something heavy is being shifted, and then let to drop onto the ground. Then, the rustling of clothes. Only after that, Dazai feels the weight of the bench shift, and a presence actually sat beside him.

If this had been an enemy, they would have had ample time to draw a gun or a knife, and his life would have been over as easily as that. In broad daylight, no less.

But it isn't, and instead of tensing - or relaxing - into the potential threats, he lets his arms drop from behind his head, and opens his eyes to acknowledge the not-quite-stranger.

Dressed in brightly-coloured traditional clothes from head to foot, with a bandana holding back pale hair that didn't - always - quite hide the earrings he wore, and only brought out the likewise pale colour of his face, the bold markings around his eyes, his nose... the man who had introduced himself as only a mere lowly medicine seller looked straight ahead, toward the Yokohama bay.

If the world made any sense, they both would have attracted a lot more attention than the few looks that were aimed their way - Dazai's illusion still held, suggesting to anyone looking their way who didn't know any better to see him as completely human and disregard the ears, the tail, the numerous other small details that marked him out as not human, but the medicine seller next to him simply... was what he was.

In a way, he was entirely on display. There wasn't a single thing about him that wasn't completely true, nothing that was hidden if someone wanted to look and actually see.

In another sense... Dazai could still remember the other, and looking at him now felt odd, as if everything was still there, but dimmed, somehow.

He wondered, in some distant part of him, if that was how he had seemed to anyone who had seen through him and known.

"So." The world carries on around them, and if Dazai hadn't known that the word had been aimed at him, it could have been aimed at anything. The wind. The sea. Some invisible thing that a form and a reason and a truth, but no unnatural twist to its nature. But he heard it clearly enough, and there is a tilt to the medicine seller's lips. "How is life, Dazai-kun?"

All of his years, and he still doesn't know the answer to that question. He doesn't know how a normal human being should answer something like that-

He stops that train of thought in its tracks. Laughs, and if it comes out sounding odd and a little bit harsh, then it isn't as though anyone else is paying attention to them, is it?

"I woke up to a dog drooling all over me again," he says airily. "There's fur all over the house, and I need to cat-sit again later on."

"And what of Nakajima-dono?" The way that the man says Atsushi's name makes Dazai stop and blink, because he's not used to such a level of respect to his younger protege. "And Nakahara-dono?"

Hearing Chuuya referred to in such a way is only slightly less odd. Executives took respect the way most people expected to be able to breathe, after all. He knew that from personal experience, although it had never been something he had worn with comfort, much the same as the coat he had preferred to shrug off, eventually.

"Atsushi-kun is doing well enough, I think. Sometimes I find myself myself worrying, but..." I think that by this point, he can make up for his mentor's failings. Atsushi isn't so dependant on me that he needs my example, or my praise. He'll do just fine. "Chuuya is - well. We're adjusting."

"Adjustment is only natural. One hardly expects treatment to cure ailments instantly. Just as the body has its own way of healing itself when given a little help, the spirit isn't truly all that much different."

"You think living with Chuuya is like that?" Dazai tilted his head, and made a face. "I'll have to tell him when I get back. He isn't even a dog any more. He's just a medicine that I've been prescribed. One course of Chuuya per day. See how he likes that."

"What it is or it isn't is something only you can decide for yourself, Dazai-kun. Although you do look a lot better than the last time I saw you," the medicine seller added, a certain glint of amusement in his eyes. "And I would almost like to be there when you do tell him that."

No, not just amusement - spark of mischief. Dazai went back over his own words, and found himself blushing, hard, and looked away.

For someone who seemed to spend most of his time chasing down and exorcising mononoke looking the way he did, the man next to him was far more down to earth and crude at times than he had any right to be. Perhaps this was what most people felt when they were around him too long.

Not that Dazai was going to change, not at all.

"And there I thought you respected Chuuya," he says, letting a little bit of grumble out.

Not that he minded people making fun of Chuuya. That was Chuuya, and this was- well. If any of their sleeping together had gone further than sleeping then it might not feel as self-conscious of the unspoken potential getting brought up by someone who wasn't, well, him.

The laugh he gets in response is almost startling in its honesty, ringing barks of laughter that remind him of kon kon kon, painfully familiar.

"Too much respect is just as unhealthy as too little," the man says only moments later. There's still a smile lingering on his face.

Dazai thinks of Akutagawa, whose deep respect had never grown into anything capable of seeing his mentor as a fallible person and he's glad, knowing that he hadn't been present or involved in anything to do with either of the mononoke. The first one, or him.

He thinks of Atsushi, who he sometimes worried looked to him with those same eyes, but in the next breath the weretiger would berate him for not working, or fuss over him for not eating.

Atsushi, who had once sat in this exact spot, looking out at this exact view.

"When you look out at them... what do you feel?"

For a moment, Dazai almost feels that those must have been his own words, his own question, thoughts he had wondered about and circled around for so long yet had needed to recontextualise along with so much of his life in the past week.

"Humans..." he leaned back, and thought of his conversations with Fyodor, with Shibusawa. The things that he had lived through, remembered, forgotten. "They are truly destructive, and cruel, and thoughtless creatures. I do not think that I will ever truly understand them, either." He sighed. "And yet..." He thought of Chuuya, who despite his circumstances was so very, very human. Of Atsushi, who'd had his true nature as a tiger hidden from him for so long, and Kunikida. Of others that he had met. Odasaku, even Ango. "The same can be said for even the very best of them... searching for their reason to live, like stray dogs. It is at the same time terrifying, yet awe-inspiring, the feats that they can accomplish." He smiled, wryly. Neither bitter nor sweet. "And I live balanced in the middle. But - I think I'll be able to manage."

In the distance, a child screamed as they ran. Conversations carried on.

"Oh...? I see."

A fog horn blared out at sea, coming into port. A couple not far away shared food over by the railing, with guitars on their backs. A teenager passes them by wearing headphones, and Dazai's newly sensitive ears pick up on the beats of the music.

Human, youkai, hanyou... no matter what any of them were, it was still Yokohama. It was still his city.

"It... truly is a beautiful city. More than anything else... that's what I feel." He closed his eyes, and leaned forward into the breeze coming in from the sea. "Does that answer your questions?"

"You're the one who thought that was what I must have been saying. Do you feel better for having said it?"

I hate them - I hate them, and more than that, I want - I don't understand - why wasn't I- wasn't I... worth...

Those feelings. He remembered them, and they had been his.

First, destroy everything that comes close, before it can touch me. Then... destroy me, for having done so.

He had felt the culmination of twenty-two years' worth of an inability to understand, which had its source in something that he had not been able to affect.

You have a choice, Dazai-kun.

If you wish to die, then it is only a simple matter of choosing to stay. The Mononoke will be slain, and so will you. But-

But, if for any reason you should wish to hold on to even one thing...

It is impossible to both slay the monster and to take it with you.

(Kitsune, Chuuya had said, accepting him even as he stared in shock. Come, love, sleep, Chuuya had said, and his heart had wavered. They had called, and he had answered, because there was too much- he had too much- that he couldn't let go of.)

"I suppose... I simply find it hard to find the words to..."

He feels his heart beat. And another. He breathes in the salty air, and it still feels terrifyingly new.

And yet, the idea of not being here to experience it, the idea of having vanished without a trace somewhat over a week ago - no trace of fur in Chuuya's house, not having the honour of knowing Ranpo's own secret, or of having felt how relaxing it was to have his own fur stroked as he curled up on the sofa whether he was at home or at the office...

He thinks, perhaps, it might have been a beautiful death.

But at the same time... there is only one thing he can think of, the words catching every time he tries to put them on his tongue, for what he feels about still being alive.

"Me?" He hears and feels more than sees the fact that the man next to him is shaking his head. "There is nothing to thank me for. As a mere medicine seller, there was honestly very little I could do. At the end, I was powerless. You were the one who did all of the work. All I did was give you the ability, and the means." He stood, and Dazai could see the slight smile on his face even before he turned. "If anything," he added, bowing at the waist, "I should be the one owing a debt of gratitude to you. From the moment I understood your Katachi..." The medicine seller turned his face up, eyes closed into the upturned slits of a true smile. "Come now. Kits who are blessed with so many who care for them shouldn't need to make those sorts of faces."

...

AN: There's a stealth crossover (crossover-ception? triple crossover?) near the end. I'm just gonna hope someone catches on to what and where the reference is, haha...

If by the end of reading this it isn't clear - in order for Dazai to still be alive in these stories, he had to make the active choice to live and stay alive in the moments before the Medicine Seller's sword cut. This was inspired by several of the endings of the actual Mononoke storylines, although there are elements that appeared in none of those stories that I had to work out for myself.

What this means for Dazai is not that his suicidal ideation is 'magically cured', but that he is less likely to actively seek out death. It also isn't 'knowing his past' that enables him to move on, but understanding *what* he is, and that his feelings of 'not fitting in as a human being' don't just come from nowhere. In short - he was validated.Does anyone know that one poster with the owls on it, about "I just need a stick"? That's what the Medicine Seller's getting at there.

And do I mean to imply that I see the Medicine Seller himself as a kitsune...? Well if you read it with that in mind, just... imagine being him coming to that moment of realisation of just 'what' he's up against. As said and implied in the previous fics, due to the nature and longevity of kitsune, Dazai's still considered a child at twenty-two by other youkai, more than just being seen as "barely out of his teens", so... have that for a bit of adult fear, and why the Medicine Seller is saying what he does here.

All that said, this [was] my first time writing the Medicine Seller, and I'm still nervous over whether I've got his voice down properly or not. (And given how important he is to it, you see why the previous events aren't written yet.)

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd stuff #Leona fic #kitsune dazai #bsd mnnk au #mononoke ayakashi

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