#20 Wake up! (Part three of Asphyxiation)
This title is a bit of a stretch, but I needed a chapter like this at this point in the story.
So this is how it is. After years trying to make things right, this is how I'm going to spend the last of my days. It almost makes one want to keep on living... and how fucked up isn't that?
After trying to kill myself my entire life, here I am, at the brink of death, fighting to stay alive.
If karma was on my side, I might be as bold as to think I deserved another chance, but… Anyone else perhaps. I deserve what I'm getting, and if it's under false pretenses or not, it really doesn't matter.
On the one hand, all I want to do is die and be done with it. Kick the bucket one final time, releasing the Agency of their duties of looking for me. Because I know they're looking. The idiots won't leave this alone before they know exactly what happened.
Then, on the other hand, I want to show these fuckers exactly who I am. No matter how hard I've fought to walk in the light, I'm still Osamu Dazai. The youngest executive in Port Mafia history, the second half of the infamous double black. The monster, the legend.
...reduced to less than the shadow I once cast.
I can't believe I ever thought that things couldn't get any worse.
Just when you think you've lost everything... You'll find out that you can always lose a little more.
"Hinata-chan, it's nice to meet you again. I only wish it was under different circumstances," Kunikida greeted solemnly and directed the short brunette to sit on the same couch she had been seated at six months ago together with her mother.
"Kunikida-san, I'm so happy you have reconsidered taking our case further. There's just no way Niko-chan would have drowned like that- she knew better than to go swimming by herself."
Kunikida forced himself not to frown, recognizing that taking on this case was more selfish than not, but he had to act professionally.
"It was never about doubting your suspicions. It's just been very busy," he said. Technically, that wasn't a lie.
"Is Dazai-san here too? He was such excellent help when Niko-chan was missing, even if it turned out the way it did," the young lady asked, looking around the office landscape where several of the other agents immediately turned away and suddenly looked extremely engaged with whatever conveniently close to their positions in the room.
"Unfortunately, he is not," Kunikida answered carefully. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Hinata-chan. Dazai-san has been missing for six months."
He watched closely as the young woman's expression changed. She looked surprised.
"R-really?"
"Yes, sadly. He disappeared only days after your sister was found."
Hinata looked incredulously into the air in front of her, brows curved into a small scowl.
"And you think it might have a connection to my sister's death," she concluded finally.
Kunikida took a deep breath before he answered. He didn't want the girl to think that this was the only reason they took her case; even if it kinda was. It was hard to look at it in an unbiased way right now.
"Yes, we do," Kunikida settled on, quickly adding, "but that doesn't mean that we wouldn't have taken the case if it wasn't for that. If Dazai-san had been here, I can assure you that he would have been on it as soon he had seen it. That's the only reason we haven't been aware of your application until now. I'm going to be frank with you, most of our time since he went missing, has gone towards looking for him."
Hinata folded her hands in her lap, big bright cerulean eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"I guess it's been a difficult six months for all of us, huh?" she muttered gravely. Kunikida couldn't do anything but agree.
"So, what do you think? Would you like to go through with this?"
"Yes, yes I would. Whatever you need. I want justice for my sister and Dazai-san's disappearance only amplifies my suspicion that everything is not as it seems."
"I believe you are right," Kunikida acknowledged with a short nod and paused for a moment to collect himself. He had read through Dazai's lack-lustered reports from the search, again being reminded of how infuriating it was that the ex-mafioso was so reluctant to put down the work and do it properly. In any other job, a person would have been sacked for something like that.
"I read in your application that your parents-understandably- have taken your sister's death very hard and don't want to go any further into it, but it would be of really big help if they could come in for a talk as well. All and any information would be greatly appreciated."
"Oh, uh, I… I can ask them. But I won't promise anything. My mother will probably try her best, but dad is… a bit more stubborn. I think he took her death the hardest of all of us. He has buried himself in his work ever since. He's hardly ever home anymore."
Kunikida reached out and gave her a compassionate clasp on the shoulder.
"I can only imagine. We will be very respectful. Is there one thing all of the members in our agency knows all too well, it's the pain of being the ones left behind."
A sad smile graced Hinata's thin lips as she gathered her things and left. Kunikida kept his seat in the small area where they would interview their clients for a little bit after she had gone. He felt conflicted about this. Unsure if anything they could learn about the poor girl's death would benefit the family in any way. In the end, it seemed like the only ones that could possibly gain anything at all on this was them.
...and Dazai. And they were definitely running out of time. The sly bastard was persevering, which he had shown time and time again. But six months was a hell of a long time, even considering that the idiot had nine lives and always seemed to land on his feet. He might twist an ankle in the landing but, somehow, it never seemed to slow him down.
"Yo, d'you know where Dazai's reports on the Saito-case has gone?" Ranpo suddenly startled him out of his musings with his question. Kunikida had to think for a moment, before he replied.
"I think Atsushi had it last. Ask him if he's done with it," he muttered absentmindedly. The short detective frowned a little but didn't say anything before he turned around, headed for the weretiger's desk.
After another couple of minutes, Kunikida was able to tear himself away from his spiraling thoughts towards doing something a little more productive.
He had studied the Yokohama map filled with large black X's and notes written in the margin for about half an hour when Ranpo approached him again.
"Uh, Kunikida-san? Did you read Dazai-san's research from this case?"
Kunikida scoffed. Of course, he had- several times. It was the usual chicken-scratches he always presented. Hardly legible, after being hand-written with poor grammar, going back and forth in time seemingly at random, with small add-ins with arrows pointing to where he had meant to put it and scratches where he had spelled a word wrong or changed his mind on how to articulate it.
"Obviously," he answered before he shrugged. "Well, as far as it was decipherable at all."
"Well actually… I think it was code."
For several seconds, Kunikida was unable to grasp what the brown-clad detective in front of him had just said. Because he had read that file so many times that he could quite literally recite it from memory, and not for a damn second had he spotted any sort of code in those crumbled up papers that looked more like they had been fished out from the bottom of a primary schooler's backpack at the end of a school year than as an official document.
"...what?"
"I crosschecked with some of his older reports and it's the same thing. It seems like he always keeps personal notes hidden in code through his reports."
"No, I mean… What the hell are you talking about? There's a code?"
"...which I've already deciphered of course. It's actually quite common. They make a code, mostly to themselves to keep track of their personal thoughts and surmises in their investigations. It's not too complicated, for the trained eye I mean, but they make sure to make it complex enough that they won't get in trouble with the higher-ups if they turn out to be wrong. To avoid being punished for having damning suspicions against their clients for example, or chasing leads that don't turn up anything. It's almost like pig-Latin, really, except it's personalized but there's a fixed pattern and-"
"How in the world haven't you seen that before?" Kunikida snapped, to which Ranpo looked fiercely offended.
"Now you just hold on a second! This is the first time I've laid eyes on that file and I recognized the pattern right away! The Saito-case was sad and all, but it was not a high-profiled case in any sense of the word. Nobody else that's read it recognized it!"
"Yeah, yeah, fine. I get it. I'm sorry. Would you please just tell me what it says?" Kunikida growled between clenched teeth.
"Well, there's nothing about a possible location yet, but," Ranpo took a deep breath and started laying out the pieces of paper in front of Kunikida. "...at least Dazai-san provided us with a name."
"Wake up," a dark voice commanded from somewhere still far beyond consciousness. It repeated itself, several times, coaxing him back to the awful truth of his current existence. His body ached fiercely, foremost his head and throat and the newly broken arm which had not been properly set yet (he didn't know what he had expected; of course they would want him aware for that). The rest of his body hurt too, but it seemed to bleach to this new sensation that was conquering his being. There was dull nausea deep inside his gut too, that threatened to surface more and more at each second that went by.
"That's it. Can you look at me?" the masked man said, and Dazai faintly recognized him as the doctor who just would not let him die. "I have talked them into having you here for at least a couple of hours. You're not going to feel great after this. I'm going to keep you on this IV to avoid any dehydration. That sometimes happens after a… meal like this," the doctor said, looking between his patient and the bag of liquid on the rack a few centimeters above him.
"I also want to keep you on oxygen. When someone has starved themselves for as long as you have, there's always the risk of refeeding syndrome. I've been given strict instructions to not let you die, so that is what I'm going to do."
Dazai was sure he wouldn't have been able to care if he wanted to because as the doctor finished talking, he felt the bile rise in his throat. If it hadn't been for the bonds that still tied him firmly in place, he would have been able to turn on his side to avoid choking on his own vomit.
Luckily, Dr. You-shall-not-pass was quickly at work, loosening the restraints on his head and arms to give him enough reach to puke into the basin that was ready at his side.
Dazai emptied himself entirely, strangely comforted at the feeling. At least, it had calmed the nausea. Latex-gloved hands were steadying him for a moment, ready to lower him back into the bed.
Something inside Dazai's mind shifted in that instance. A tempting while slightly scary thought crossed his mind. Something that had not occurred yet up to this point in his captivity; an opportunity.
Before giving it much more thought, or perhaps unable to, Dazai reached for the basin with shaky hands and quickly whacked it over the doctor's head. He was maybe weak, injured and sick, but if you've killed as many people as Dazai had, you knew where to aim.
There was almost a small pang of guilt ignited in Dazai as the doctor folded in on himself and flopped onto the floor in a motionless heap. But, there was no time to dwell on it. Adrenaline had struck and that was literally the only hope he had of getting out of here without being rescued in the state he was in.
Quickly, he fumbled with the rest if his restraints and yanked the IV out of his hand, threw off his blanket and placed his feet on the floor and got up.
And imminently fell back down. His hip throbbed as if it was set ablaze, leaving him immobilized on the floor while heaving for air as the bile once again rose in his throat.
An alarm had started to signal in the distance and Dazai was faintly aware that he had screwed up the only chance he would get to escape. His vision had already started to blacken in the edges when several armed men entered the room, shouting and making too many loud noises to handle anymore.
This time, Dazai considered himself lucky once the illuminating sticks closed in on him with the promise of blissful unawareness. He even made a point of resisting, just so they would make sure that he was thoroughly out before he would meet his inevitable punishment.