#side note this song is so odazai | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writing-radionoises · 4 years

Text

memories

ship: mostly none, a side of odazai and shin soukoku

genre: emotional hurt/comfort

prompt: ango is gifted dazai's old coat, and decides to use his ability on it.

notes: tw for self harm and. mori things but you know

When Dazai had dropped off a black trenchcoat at Ango’s door, Ango was skeptical.

There was a note left on top of it, a green sticky note with Dazais messy handwriting.

Ango, Akutagawa recently gave this back to me. There’s a lot of bad memories that come with it, but a lot of good ones, too. I thought you might have fun with it.

Ango wouldn’t lie, he’d been staring at this jacket for years now, wondering what it’d be like to use his ability on it. It was a jacket passed through three generations now, chucked full of information. So many memories…

He knew there would be a lot of bad memories, the abuse Dazai and Akutagawa suffered was no secret from Ango. Though, he also knew that Dazai wore this jacket through the times when Odasaku was alive.

He barely took the thing off, he could probably document every moment of Dazai’s mafia days with this coat.

Such a thing would really only be useful to Ango, there’s no demand for information on Dazai since Ango has erased his identity.

Ango looked at the coat with furrowed brows, the ratty thing sitting in his lap as he sipped at what was probably his fourth cup of coffee that day.

Odasaku had loved writing, Ango remembers that. He remembers talking to Odasaku about his novel ideas.

Odasaku mentioned that one day, he’d liked to write an autobiography. Once he got out of the mafia, he wanted to write about his relationship with Dazai and Ango, about his children, his life as an assassin.

Now that he was gone, Ango thought about fulfilling that want for Odasaku. He was no writer, truthfully. He wrote reports, not novels.

Though, Odasaku lived a beautiful life. It deserved to be documented.

It would be a good way for Ango to truly uncover the secrets of the Port Mafia, too. To drive them into the ground like he always had wanted to do.

This coat could be the key to that.

Ango’s ability was the key to destroying the Port Mafia.

Ango set down his cup of coffee, closing his eyes as he pressed his hands against the black fabric.

Pain. He felt nothing but pain at the first touch.

Cracked ribs, broken arms, a heel against his back.

He felt blood pour out of his mouth, and Mori laughing above him.

Every second was agonizing, the overwhelming urge to cry bubbled within him, but nothing made its way to the surface.

Ango could hear the thousands upon thousands of thoughts in his head, over and over, telling him to kill himself, hurt himself, he’d be better off dead, and so much more.

This was the outcome of years of abuse at Mori Ogai’s hand.

The pain, the thoughts, and the urges.

Ango’s skin crawled against his will upon feeling hands on his shoulders, looking up to see Mori with a crooked smile on his face.

Things began to add up in his head. Every reaction Dazai’s had, every fear he’s expressed.

The pain subsided, became more livable as Ango found himself meeting up in a room with a taller, ginger man.

Odasaku, Ango could recognize his face anywhere.

Odasaku introduced himself, and hesitantly shook Ango’s hand.

Odasaku’s smile was enough to light up the whole room, it felt like placing a bandaid over the pain tearing Ango apart.

Ango meets himself in these memories, Dazai having walked over to him and placed a file on his desk during their mafia days.

Ango remembers this moment well, the day when he and Dazai met. Their friendship was hesitant, they were nothing more than coworkers for a while as Ango removed himself from any connections in the mafia.

He would betray them later, and it was better to remove the pain all together.

It was until Odasaku forced his way into Ango’s life, with Dazai in tow. He’d throw open the door to Ango’s office every other day, ask if Ango would like to go to the bar with them, ask them to get lunch together, all sorts of things.

Ango refused everytime except once.

Odasaku asked if Ango would like to come over to his apartment with Dazai, have tea and coffee for a little bit.

Ango, exhausted by work and tired of Odasaku pestering him, gave in. He remembers sitting in the front seat of Odasaku’s car, Dazai in the back seat as Odasaku blasted some sort of J-pop song that Dazai seemed to adore.

Ango couldn’t help but smile.

Ango feels the perspective of the memories shift, it’s less about Dazai’s suffering and more about all three of them. It feels like Ango standing off to the side while he watches his younger self have fun.

He’s in Odasaku’s apartment when Dazai turns on the J-pop again, prompting Odasaku to offer a hand to Dazai and swing him around in dance.

There’s laughing and smiling, and eventually Odasaku pulls Ango into dancing with him, too.

They end up all holding hands in a circle, spinning around like children, and Odasaku pulls both Dazai and Ango to his chest.

They’re friends, they’re best friends.

Ango feels a frown tug at his lips.

He’d give anything in the world to be back in this moment.

To be calling Dazai and asking where they were heading tonight, debating over whose apartment was the cleanest.

To be driving a drunk Dazai home in his shitty minivan, the radio playing soft jazz music as Dazai set his head against the window and rambled about just anything on his mind.

To be sitting outside the bar and offered a cigarette by Odasaku, refusing kindly as they make small talk.

It hurts to think about.

Ango finds the scene shifting from Odasaku’s apartment to Ango’s former apartment. He watches Odasaku bust down the door and cause Ango to drop his plate, shattering it against the tile.

Dazai is bleeding, horizontal cuts down his unbandaged wrists, and spitting blood with his mouth from his place is Odasaku’s arms.

“Can you help?” Odasaku asked, “I can’t stitch wounds very well.”

Ango nods firmly, and Odasaku moves in to set Dazai on the floor. Ango rushes to grab his first aid kit.

This was the first time Ango had ever been confronted with Dazai’s suicidal tendencies.

He remembers cleaning up the self harm wounds, stitching up the deep cuts as Odasaku tried to keep Dazai awake.

Dazai didn’t speak most of the night, and ended up staying at night at Ango’s place.

Odasaku refused to leave his side, and stayed too.

It was later that Night that Odasaku explained to Ango what exactly Dazai goes through when it comes to Mori.

Ango remembers throwing up in the bathroom for at least an hour afterward, thoroughly disgusted.

It was after that that Ango started being more mindful of how he approached Dazai.

Never from behind, announce his presence, avoid hands on the shoulders, avoid touching his sides.

Ango finds himself in an alleyway, with Dazai picking up a younger version of Ryuunosuke Akutagawa bridal style, and Gin by his side.

Akutagawa was weak, blood stained down the front of his shirt from coughing. He was sick, skinny, clearly dehydrated.

Gin was a little better off than him, a medical mask over her face, and a little more of a sturdy frame than her brother.

They walk through the alleyway, Dazai murmuring reassurances to the young child in his arms that he would be okay.

Gin held onto Dazai’s coat firmly, determination in her eyes as she followed the older man.

Ango turns his head, and Odasaku is on the other end of the alleyway, his car parked not too far off, with his keys in hand.

Ango’s fingers curled up into his palm, nails digging into his palms.

It was hard to think that this Dazai, the one who was holding Akutagawa in such a protective manner and trying to save him, later would try to kill Akutagawa time and time again.

Ango still isn’t sure why he tried to do that. He isn’t sure if Odasaku ever knew.

Ango watches Dazai place Akutagawa in the car, and Gin follow in shortly afterwards.

Weeks fly by, like wind against Ango’s hair as he watches everything fast forward in front of him.

He watches Dazai hand both Odasaku and Ango rainbow braided bracelets, the bracelet that Ango still has on to this day.

He watches Dazai shake in fear in front of Mori.

He watches Dazai end up at the bar with him and Odasaku almost every night.

He watches Dazai accompany Odasaku out on Christmas to deliver presents to Odasaku’s children.

He watches Odasaku and Dazai share their first kiss, watch them hold each other closely as Dazai sobs into Odasaku’s jacket.

Ango finds himself reverting his eyes, these memories are too personal for him to really see.

He doesn’t want to intrude on Dazai’s privacy, his and Odasaku’s relationship meant so much to him.

It’s not for Ango to see.

Memories start to become more and more familiar to Ango. The night when Ango showed up to the bar late, coming in with a box of traded belongings.

They snap pictures together, trade smiles and laughs.

It was their last night together.

Their last night as friends.

More and more memories fly by, the perspective shifts slowly from a third person point of view back to Dazai’s.

Dazai suffers more and more, and Ango is forced to watch Odasaku in his final moments.

“Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, become a good man. Save the weak, and protect the orphans. Neither good nor evil means much to you, I know... but that'd make you at least a little bit better.”

Ango wants to look away, but is unable to.

The pain returns.

Ango watches his younger self disappear from Dazai’s memories, he watches Akutagawa slowly become the center of the memories. He watches Dazai abuse Akutagawa, hurting him in as many ways possible.

Ango knows it’s an outlet for Dazai. He’s in so much pain, he has to cause pain for someone else.

To relieve his pain, he has to pass it on.

And eventually, Dazai leaves the memories, too.

The coat becomes Akutagawa’s.

The perspective is not Akutagawa’s, though. It never is. Ango finds that everything Akutagawa does is never really for himself, he has no regard for himself.

He stands off to the side as Akutagawa frantically searches for Dazai, watches Akutagawa go home and cry himself to sleep.

He watches Akutagawa become a shell of a human being, and a killing machine for the mafia.

Ango watches Kyouka come into the picture, and then Atsushi, and then eventually, Dazai returns to the picture.

He looks different, much happier and not suffering as much.

Ango watches Akutagawa’s journey to slowly feel human again, to realize he isn’t a tool for destruction.

He watches Akutagawa actually fall for Atsushi, struggle with his feelings, struggle with relationships.

Gin was such a background character in Ango’s life, in Dazai’s life, that it’s a surprise to see her become such a huge part of Akutagawa’s life. He confides in her, holds her close, and protects her at all costs.

All his regard for himself instead goes into Gin, Akutagawa would willingly give his life for his little sister.

Eventually, Ango watches Akutagawa join the agency. He’s at Kunikida and Dazai’s wedding, he watches Dazai and Akutagawa reconnect, he watches Akutagawa struggle to cope, and watches the agency celebrate birthdays and holidays like a family.

Ango watches Akutagawa shed the black trenchcoat, the one that was once Dazai’s, and give it back to him.

And sooner or later, the trenchcoat ends up back with Ango.

The scenery fades around him, and Ango blinks as he’s back in his apartment.

His brain is flooded with information, with memories, and pain.

He blinks hard, curling his fingers into his palm again as Ango quickly grabs a notepad from off of his coffee table and begins to write.

My name is Ango Sakaguchi, and I am a former Port Mafia spy with an ability to read the memories left by certain items.

I’m writing this to document the beautiful life of my friend, Oda Sakunosuke, and to bring down the Port Mafia in my other friend’s honor.

Osamu Dazai, if you’re reading this, this is for you.

Ango smiles softly, and continues to write.

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