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PSL (closed)
[The shop had finally settled again. It was a bit of a relief, because it hadn't anchored to a world in nearly two weeks, and Watanuki's food stores had started to run low. A shopping trip would be in order, mostly to replenish his nonperishable before the shop set out looking for another world in need of his help.
Usually Watanuki could guess when a move was about to happen, but sometimes it happened out of the blue. Like this last move, which had come so soon after arriving in the previous world. That usually meant that his services were in dire need and that people's souls were calling out to him, even if they didn't quite know it themselves yet. Watanuki would just have to wait for them to come to him.
His first visitor, at least, wouldn't take too long to get there. Watanuki always had a sense of when someone was to arrive, and as soon as the shop's gates had opened and revealed itself to the busy streets of Yokohama he had felt the impending arrival of a customer. It was enough to pique his interest, because he didn't usually get a visitor on the same day after a shop move. Someone was very perceptive, it seemed.
By the time his guest would arrive, Watanuki had already set up some tea in one of the sitting rooms. The summer was at its end, and the cool breeze felt nice enough that Watanuki had decided to open the movable doors to reveal the backyard, which was still bathed in the greens of summer. They could stay cool without the need of an air conditioner that way.
From there, he waited. He had a feeling that his guest was a particularly clever one, so he felt sure that they would find their way to the sitting room on their own.]
Usually Watanuki could guess when a move was about to happen, but sometimes it happened out of the blue. Like this last move, which had come so soon after arriving in the previous world. That usually meant that his services were in dire need and that people's souls were calling out to him, even if they didn't quite know it themselves yet. Watanuki would just have to wait for them to come to him.
His first visitor, at least, wouldn't take too long to get there. Watanuki always had a sense of when someone was to arrive, and as soon as the shop's gates had opened and revealed itself to the busy streets of Yokohama he had felt the impending arrival of a customer. It was enough to pique his interest, because he didn't usually get a visitor on the same day after a shop move. Someone was very perceptive, it seemed.
By the time his guest would arrive, Watanuki had already set up some tea in one of the sitting rooms. The summer was at its end, and the cool breeze felt nice enough that Watanuki had decided to open the movable doors to reveal the backyard, which was still bathed in the greens of summer. They could stay cool without the need of an air conditioner that way.
From there, he waited. He had a feeling that his guest was a particularly clever one, so he felt sure that they would find their way to the sitting room on their own.]
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He studied Watanuki's expression. Perhaps now was not the time to mention he thought of looking for a Doumeki's death records in this world, and only his exhaustion yesterday stopped him from starting.
Ah. What a pair they made.
Dazai hesitated for a moment before touching Watanuki's shoulder.]
It isn't. Unusual, I mean.
[He didn't even know how to begin with the second part. It would be rude to even assume he knew anything about Doumeki, apart from his bow.
His very used, cared-for bow.
Dazai squeezed.]
He must've wanted to keep you out of harm's way. I daresay he succeeded.
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[Ah, but he shouldn't bury himself in memories of the past. He would be there for hours if he did. Instead, he reached up to poke at Dazai's arm gently.]
What I'm saying is, I've been through this, and much more time has passed for me. You weren't even born yet when he died. So I've had time to grow used to his absence. I should be the one comforting you here.
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He also had to double down in avoiding the obvious cradle robber joke, to alleviate his own stress.]
As you can see, the guns didn't knock me out.
[Accepting comfort was hard, okay?]
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[He'll recognize the progress Dazai was making, because praise like that was important to get people to keep trying.]
But that's not quite what I meant by 'support', and I think you know that.
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Dazai gave a sigh that might've been a grumble. There was no getting out of this, was there?]
Must we? What's happened's already done and over with, you know. Experienced. Lived through. Committed to memory.
[
look who was being a brat]In fact, I might get a vacuum cleaner to commemorate this afternoon.
[Sounded random? Sure.
If Watanuki probed a little more, Dazai might actually talk. How direct he might be was for anyone to guess.]
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[#throwingshade
But really, he knew Dazai was being a brat. Which was why he had decided to be a brat right back.
And indirect responses were fine, Watanuki got it. Dazai's nuances were annoying, but understandable.]
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Oh, beg your pardon for being a mere mortal with all the flaws that it naturally entails. [That was a start?] Besides, isn't it rude to forget someone? The last time a name is spoken can be considered as the third and final death and all that.
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[And he still had attachment issues, clearly. Though he tried to downplay that as 'fond memories' rather than a genuine sadness at the man's absence.]
'Moving past' means coming to terms with your own feelings and learning to accept the changes that death brings to life.
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[Dazai traced the grip of the pistol. ]
Seeing his grave is always a reminder that he's gone. I've even gotten out of my previous job thanks to his advice. Besides, Odasaku will be upset if he gets revived as a zombie or something: he'd have to find a different place to get his curry rice, you know.
[The problem with really mouthy smartasses was that they could come up with a million answers.
(Repeat the same thing over and over again, and it becomes easy to fall for one's own trick, or to rest with a lie.
Change was difficult, and Dazai sometimes unintentionally made things harder for himself)]
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[Watanuki has done this song and dance many, many times before. Grieving widows are one of his most frequent visitors. He could see the cracks in Dazai's exterior, the places where his story and his mask didn't quite meet up.
Belatedly Watanuki realized something, and he changed up his wording a bit.]
No...not 'accept'. You're not at the point where you could even do that yet. You haven't even grieved for him yet, have you?
[Watanuki's expression softened as he said that too. It wasn't quite pity, but more of a sad understanding. How long had he been in denial about his own losses? A century of waiting for Yuuko certainly spoke to how poorly he accepted loss.]
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This wasn't a mask.
Rather, he had stopped performing.]
I've been mourning for the past four years. I fail to see how that doesn't count.
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Watanuki faltered there for a moment, surprised by how open Dazai had suddenly become. Or maybe he was surprised by how much wasn't there to begin with. Was this really all grief on his part? Or had he always been this empty to begin with?]
And how has that been going for you, exactly?
[Watanuki didn't have all the answers, but he was hoping he could guide Dazai to find those answers on his own. Grief, in particular, was a minefield of emotions. And Watanuki hadn't really encountered someone like this before who was actually a human.]
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Not when the focus of his grief was nearby, too. And Odasaku had seen how much of a mess he was in spite of Dazai maintaining mannerisms to make himself personable.]
It's the old usual, only worse on particularly bad days.
['Bad days,' specifically, because it was also true that there were okay and decent (good) days. Dazai's laughter, when it was genuine, was lighter, too. For how difficult moving behind the scenes was, he was also now spared from needing to use fear and intimidation as often.
Funny, how having less of a body count worked that way. There was something to be said for taking out Atsushi and Kyouka from previously harsh conditions, too, even if receiving displays of genuine gratitude was uncomfortable.]
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[He truly did, too. There was a light of understanding then, like something he had heard before suddenly made sense to him.
So he dropped his line of questioning in favor of another one. His hands had been folded neatly in his lap, but now he reached up to indicate to Dazai himself. If Dazai allowed him, he would even cup one of his cheeks and guide Dazai to look directly at him. However, if Dazai looked resistant to the idea, he would refrain.
Either way, the words he spoke next were the same.]
What will you do now? Continue as you are? Or do you want to try and change?
[Because change would be preferable, but a man couldn't change if he didn't want to.]
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[He sounded tired as he spoke, too, as he let Watanuki touch his face - a rarity in and of itself.
He could acknowledge that his own path was meandering, partly because the last time he had been too goal-oriented, the darkness he had chosen to surround himself with ended up obscuring whatever it was he was walking towards. Furthermore, he didn't think he was closer to finding out why life was worth living.
Maybe he was at a dead end. Stumbling block. Whatever.
Logically, it was also probably unfair to ask Watanuki for any guarantees.
(There were words he needed to hear - perhaps it was assurance, or something else. Dazai didn't know it yet.)]
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[He didn't pull his hand away, and instead held it there a bit longer. Maybe the contact was helping to keep Dazai focused. Or maybe it made Watanuki feel secure in knowing Dazai wouldn't suddenly run away.
His curiosity was getting the better of him, and he wanted to know what ate at Dazai.]
The question is, what is it that sits on your heart?
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[What's more, the only reason Dazai was able to spit out why he'd joined the mafia was desperation. His fear of losing Oda had outweighed his usual reluctance in revealing his own emptiness.]
When it comes down to it, there is no logical reason to continue living. What's more, the one person who managed to figure out my perspective died.
[Dazai knew other people saw the world differently. The very concept of life being meaningless was abhorrent to most, so Dazai didn't speak of it much. However, this came with the consequence of effectively isolating himself, and it was this loneliness that Odasaku pointed out with his dying breath.
What a miserable state of affairs, this was.]
While it is unfortunately true that, on the flip side, an ill-timed death is pointless, I might as well be a zombie half the time.
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[He wasn't asking it to be pedantic or shut down anything Dazai had said. Rather, he wanted to know the reasoning behind Dazai's statement. He had no doubt that Dazai believed it, but he still wanted to know why.
After a moment, he thought to clarify his question.]
Why is there no logical reason to continue living?
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Loss is inevitable: people change, die, move away, get caught up in so many little things. This, too, is a natural outcome.
[The longer he spoke, the more Dazai slipped to monotone. It was not delivered with his usual eloquence, precisely because never had expected to share this with anyone. There were also plenty of things he omitted, a cluttered mess of meanings that was a haphazard summary of years of thought and reflection.]
I'm not saying that change, in itself, is bad. It has its benefits on a wider scale. But what is the point of experiencing suffering as part of the consequence? In the grander scheme of things, what is the meaning of progress when the intrinsic quality of people, as a group, don't change? Oh, sure, the faces and names of individuals and movements do, but there will always be conflict between those who gain and those who lose.
As long as time keeps ticking, there is no finite solution to all of that. Just as there is no answer to why suffering, in itself, exists. It just is.
In light of that: why should I subject myself to more pain?
[Apart from what Dazai said, there were a few other factors he hadn't deemed necessary to mention, but ones Watanuki might find of interest: Dazai's inability to find any hobbies to stick with, for example, and his thoughts on why knowing people and getting attached were difficult.
The observations he had shared, so far, were from the perspective of someone watching events alone.
Loneliness wasn't Dazai's only problem. It was, however, one of those major things he had trouble admitting to, because it was personal.]
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It also led Watanuki to believe that giving answers wasn't the correct way to go about this conversation. He suspected that Dazai wouldn't readily accept any answer to those questions, even if Watanuki thought the answer was obvious. Instead, what Dazai needed was a shift in his way of thinking, so that he would reach the proper conclusion on his own.
What a stubborn one. The stubborn ones were always the hardest to work with.]
That question is a significant one, but I have to answer it with a question of my own: Why is Oda-san's life and death painful to you? Life is lost every single day, and I am sure you are aware of that fact. But why is that specific loss so painful to you?
[Baby steps here. He was going somewhere with that line of questioning, but he had to take it one step at a time.]
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That was a difficult one to answer.
Oda was - is - a lot of things to him. In the years after the man's death, Dazai had come to realize he'd fallen in love. Fat lot of good that did, when the person he pined for was six feet underground.
Even the simplest response was hard to say, but it'd have him use fewer words.
Maybe.
Dazai bit the inside of his lip.]
He's important. More than anyone else.
[Oda's presence defied even the sinking ship of cynical utilitarianism Dazai had found himself in. There was grief in being understood and cared for, and wanting to reciprocate. More pain when those were taken away, so soon after glimpsing its light.
There would be no one like Oda ever again]
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[Watanuki probably could have specified what kind of things he wanted to hear, but he had a feeling that the answer would be more genuine if he left it up to Dazai to decide what to share. What was it about Oda that Dazai remembered most clearly?
Watanuki was looking for the emotions behind that answer, and whether Dazai went with positive or negative emotions would affect where he went next with his questioning. He also subtly glanced over to the other side of Dazai, where he knew a certain ghostly figure was sitting and listening. Yes, it was odd to ask about a man who was currently present, but he had his reasons for it.]
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[Dazai shut his eyes a moment as he let the post next to him take his weight. This was a very, very long day, and the modified gun in his coat pocket was heavy.]
To the point that he can be unintentionally funny, when he mentions the most unexpected conclusions taken from a direct path from A to Z. That's just how he is: doesn't let other people tell him what to do or how to think, even if his stubbornness indirectly cost him his life. His character is as strong as the curry he likes, really: it's the kind of spice that's hot in the mouth, but creeps up in intensity when you least expect it.
My former boss has no qualms in letting go of, oh, supposedly underutilized resources, if the manner in which they leave is still favorable to the Organization.
...Odasaku is very kind, too, you know? Not that it's a value the mafia can use without manipulation in most situations.
[Here, he said no more, though the thought of Ango's old reports lingered: without those, Mori wouldn't even have time to bother with people at the bottom rung.
Chuuya was one person who'd be able to utilize the additional information. Mori, on the other hand, probably had less than wholesome ideas when he got his hands on them.]
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He could also see the ways Oda and Doumeki were similar, and it made his heart ache with old memories of lazy summers spent on this very porch.]
It sounds like he was a good man, and he left a lasting impression on you.
[A comment, one meant to focus all of Dazai's given details to an easy-to-understand idea.]
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He had five kids, too. [Finally referring to them outside of the confines of that curry shop, after all these years, still felt strange. Old habits of secrecy died hard.] They're buried near him. He didn't have to adopt them, you know. I found it unusual, in fact, but that's Odasaku for you.
Sometimes, I wondered why he asked me to save orphans. Was it because of them? Or did he find out something about himself when he raised those kids?
[He shrugged, looking at the space where Odasaku's spot of cold air was. In a way, Dazai had done so through Atsushi and Kyouka, although his own manipulative nature already meant that whatever good will there was in the act was already muddled.
Really, he sucked at this whole "good for goodness' sake" kind of thing.]
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