As Dazai's vision started to clear, he instantly made two observations. The first one was that the ceiling was whiter than the last time he had woken up at the medical wing of the military facility. It lacked the dried scatters of blood and whatever other bodily fluids that had exploded inside that dismal room and left large splatters all over the walls, roof, and floors. He had watched those stains enough times to place where each and every one of them was supposed to be, and also, he was most definitely the origin of at least half of it.
His second observation was that the lights were too bright and hurt his eyes. Dazai quickly closed them again and turned his head to try and bury his face into the pillow away from it. But his sore neck wouldn't allow such an extensive movement, so he was left whining lightly while pinching his eyes tightly shut.
"Can someone dim the lights?" he heard the alto voice, supposedly and hopefully Yosano's, call softly, and within seconds the lights were shut completely. The dusky light from the murky evening sky was the only source left to illuminate the wistful room.
"Is this better?" a voice responded. Its boyish tone and unfaltering chipperness, albeit a bit more subdued than usual, made him want to believe that it actually was Kenji. He wanted to believe it so badly.
Slow and reluctant, he opened his left eye first. It still hurt a little. Without having seen himself, he knew both of his eyes were badly bruised. His right eye followed shortly, as if his left one needed to make sure that it was safe first. The little amount of sight he had left in it after all those years of botched experiments in the Port Mafia had been taken from him early in his captivity, and all the years of being submitted to Mori's torturous procedures had left it immensely sensitive towards lights.
Even if not unexpected, Dazai startled when the massive jolt of pain staggered through his head. The sheer amount of pure, concentrated agony cut through his cornea like a steak knife, even after the lights had been turned off. He couldn't remember it ever being so bad.
Once again he tried to move his arms, this time to cover his eyes, but they fell back to his sides, heavy like lead.
"Dazai? What's wrong?" the voice said again, and he wanted to yell at her to go away- there was no way it was Yosano. It was his mind playing tricks on him again. It had to be . They had injected his eye with something, just like Mori did, he was sure of it! What had they come up with this time? Had they joined forces? The Port Mafia would just love to get their hands on him in this state; helpless and broken and ready to be molded back into the monster he always was meant to be.
Nothing ever changes. Not when you're the infamous Osamu Dazai. It was karma. He still hadn't finished paying off his debts and he had always known that one day, the devil would come back to claim it personally.
Dazai was supposedly his successor after all.
"Goddammit, Dazai! Stop it!"
Suddenly, he felt the presence of two people on each side of his bed. They were holding him down, grabbing at him and pulling- pulling his hands away from his face.
He didn't realize that he had gotten them to move again.
Both of his arms were forced back to the mattress and held down firmly. Dazai's body ached and the jostling made new pains appear. Instinctively, he wanted to struggle, to free his arms and curl into a ball to protect his vitals- running was futile, he had been unable to walk his entire time there and the cracked bones had never been given time to heal before they were rebroken.
A surging sensation brewed inside his chest, a feeling he knew all too well. Something that, before the cell, had been a faint echo from his past. Muffled voices merged together and turned into urgent cries that felt like spikes and nails drilled into his eardrums. His breath was catching, the mask covering his face only adding to the claustrophobic feeling of being restrained.
Panic.
Fullblown out of control panic.
Dazai drew in a sharp breath to scream.
Yosano and Kunikida latched onto Dazai's arms and bent them away from his face. Small trickles of blood had already started to drip down his cheeks from the numerous deep claw marks he had dug around his eyes. How the hell he had been able to scrape himself up so good without any fingernails and with all his fingertips bandaged was something Kunikida didn't even want think about.
The pure, determent will of desperation. It was the only answer.
The bespectacled man could feel Dazai's body go rigid under him, but he couldn't let go. The last thing any of them needed was for Dazai to scratch his eyes out in addition to all of this. So he held on, nearly laying his body on top of the broken man to subdue his frantic and terrified spasms.
All they needed was to gain his attention back. Make him talk to them, or at least listen. Kunikia wasn't sure what the hell there was to say, but it was the only plan they'd been able to come up with on the spot.
Dazai had been able to shrug off the oxygen mask, and he was gasping labouredly for air. Yosano let go of one of her hands to place it back when a shrilling, soundless shriek broke through wrecked lungs. The force and pain from the exertion made Dazai's form coil. His eyes shot open, fear and confusion evident in the sunken, brown eyes.
Behind them, Kunikida heard the door open and a nurse saying something about sedatives. Yosano screamed at her to shut the hell up and get the fuck out. Kunikida admittedly agreed, all though he might have selected a different phrasing.
They had talked about it when Dazai was sleeping. Yosano said they should avoid drugging him as much as possible. The test results showed that he had excessive amounts of an unknown substance in his system. It seemed to be some sort of tranquilizer, which likely was made from the scientists' own formula. They had no way of knowing how Dazai would react to being taken off it so abruptly, but what they did know, was that he had likely been under the influence of it for the majority of these six months, and hopefully being cut off would change something in his brain chemistry that would make it easier to coax him back to reality when he fell out of it.
Yosano and Kunikida locked eyes for a second, then looked down at Dazai.
His eyes were still wide, orbs unusually small and staring blindly into a blank space. A quick glance behind them revealed that the rest of the agency looked as lost and astounded as they probably did.
Yosano was about to put the oxygen mask back on, but she paused her action when she realized that Dazai's lips were moving.
"What's going on-" Tanizaki started to ask but Yosano quickly hushed him.
Leaving the mask resting on Dazai's chin, she leaned down to listen. His voice was completely gone, the only sound emitting from him a hoarse and strangled whisper that she had to hold her breath to hear.
The room was airily quiet for a moment before she raised her head a little.
"Oh, honey," she purred sadly, leaning back up and rested a hand on Dazai's bandaged forehead and soothed his bangs back while situating the mask back over his mouth.
Kunikida gave her a questioning frown, but she only shook her head lightly and kept caressing the feverish forehead.
Dazai was laying perfectly still now, and Kunikida felt comfortable enough to slide back off the bed. As he turned his back to retreat, he felt something delicate brush weakly against his wrist. Tilting his head, he recognized a badly burnt, bandaged hand reaching feebly over the sheets in his direction.
Almost disbelieving, Kunikida followed the emaciated arm inch by inch, until he met two dull eyes with a deep worry knitted between them. The frail fingers scratched at the blanket, and Kunikida shifted his gaze between the pleading hand and the anxious gaze.
Dazai's jaw was moving, saying something inaudible under the mask. However, Kunikida didn't need to hear what his partner was saying to know what he wanted. Straightening his shirt, Kunikida sat back down on the bed and clutched Dazai's hand gently. The wrist was so frightfully thin that he was afraid it might break if he held it too tight.
Looking to Dazai's eyes for confirmation, they gave him just that. The frightful and wild expression was gone, replaced by warm, shimmery and pure awe.
A tight knot twisted inside of Kunikida's chest and he had to take a deep intake before his voice felt sturdy enough to say anything without shattering along with his rigor. The carefully chosen words he had planned to say when they finally found him (he had even written and rewritten them several times in his Ideal) were long gone and forgotten. The whole damn book was forgotten. None of it seemed important at this moment, because he couldn't even have imagined back then how amazing it would feel to have those dark brown eyes finally seeing him again.
"Hey," he croaked, lowered his head and frowned. Squeezed the fragile hand. There were no words, no action, no nothing that could possibly express the cluster of emotions that raved inside him at that moment and it made him feel depleted, until, the hand in his squeezed back.
It was weak. So faint that Kunikida wondered if maybe he had only imagined it.
"H…" an ailing crackle whispered back. It was all he could muster, but Kunikida couldn't have felt more content. It was the closest thing to hearing his partner's voice- broken as it was- that he had been for six agonizingly long months.
"Everyone's here," Yosano joined in and shifted a little to give Dazai a better view to where the rest of their friends were awaiting frantically. Atsushi was lingering at the foot end of the bed, while Fukuzawa stood between Ranpo and Kenji, resting his large, sturdy hands protectively across their shoulders. The Tanizaki siblings and Kyouka were huddled under a blanket, frosty from sleepiness.
Dazai huffed out a shaky breath. He wanted to talk, say something. Ask a million questions and tell them everything he had learned about Niko's death. But all he could get out was a struggled wheeze which left him breathless and lightheaded. It hurt as if his lungs were ready to burst and the walls in his throat bleed and swell shut. If it hadn't been for the mask, steadily pushing oxygen into his lungs, he was sure he would have hicked and choked on his own faint breaths.
Yosano frowned at the noise that Dazai's battered throat was emitting, internally reminding herself to figure out what his CT scans said. The hospital hadn't gone into too much detail concerning his injuries, except for the most obvious ones like the proximal humerus fracture in his arm, the complex hip break, and the crushed knees that all had required surgery.
There were also the horrible rope burns and abrasions around his neck, wrists and legs, the electric burns and infected stab wounds all over his meager form, only adding to the extensive collection already littering his body.
At least now nobody would be asking about his bandages anymore.
The rest of the agency was talking to Dazai now. Nobody got too close to the bed, settling with only lingering in the proximity of his half-lidded vision, as to not overwhelm him by crowding him.
Dazai listened intently to everyone's chatter. Taking in their voices, their tones and their faces, so undeniably beautiful that he sometimes forgot to be wary in case it was all just another hallucination. Sometimes, he would try to reply, but he was left coughing weakly every time, unable to put enough strength into each hack to truly make the pricking go away. It hurt his chest and his coworker's faces grimaced with concern each time, but he couldn't even tell them he was okay.
Instead, he smiled. He smiled, even if he didn't mean it. Even if he didn't want to, but this was what he did. Smiled when he hurt the most. When his heart was breaking and threatening to escape out of his chest to a less hostile habitat. The feign motion made him feel physically ill. The slight lift to his cheeks, the strained muscles. So fucking useless.
He smiled, even when he knew they couldn't see it behind the mask. Such irony.
"We need to move back to the agency."
Kunikida stood with his arms crossed, averting the rubine red gaze of their dark-haired doctor.
"We can't do that. Dazai just woke up. If we're not here to coax him back to reality when his mind wanders back, who knows what he'll do," Yosano retorted dryly. Still, she couldn't hide the dangerous glare in her eyes. They had gotten his body back, but it would take time to get his mind back as well. All these strangers in white coats carrying medical equipment would remind Dazai too much of the facility. The hospital staff could be anyone to him.
As much as she hated it, she was more worried about the staff's safety than Dazai's in such a scenario.
"I know you mean well, but we can't waste our time here anymore," Kunikida muttered harshly.
"Waste- waste our time? Are you even hearing yourself? How dare you?" Yosano spat. She clenched her fists and took a few steps closer, scowling into unwavering hazel orbs. Kunikida could go wherever he goddamn well pleased, but if he tried to huddle anyone out who wanted to be there for Dazai, she'd get her cleaver and consider healing him afterward.
"You're misunderstanding. We just… Now that we have him back, we need to get back to work." Kunikida's voice was low, not able nor trying to hide the shame he felt as he uttered those words. Yosano simply gawked at him. She couldn't believe his nerves.
Bracing herself for a short moment, she finally spoke again, "Did you not just witness the same thing as the rest of us? Dazai is terrified. He's experienced unthinkable torture for half a year! We can't just leave him here. He needs us!"
Their eyes connected for a long time. She tried to pierce a hole through that stupidly idealistic exterior. The unfaltering rationality, hoping to make space for just a slither of "senseless", human compassion.
"Listen, Yosano…" Kunikida broke, rubbing his neck. He looked at her once before downcasting his attention to the floor. Why did she have to make this so difficult?
"We… we decided not to charge the Saito family," he finally admitted. "We can't make them pay for this. It would be selfish and heartless. We got our coworker back, but they only got a broken family. We couldn't even give them any answers to what happened to Niko-chan. I want to be here and take care of Dazai as much as anyone, but we can't afford to be inactive even a day longer. Everyone needs to work on cases if we're gonna keep the agency from closing down, not to mention pay Dazai's medical bills."
Yosano squinted up at him.
"Is it really that bad?" she asked quietly. Kunikida offered a grim nod and grit his teeth. Everyone knew they were struggling, but only Fukuzawa and himself truly knew how deep it went.
"Fukuzawa's been funding us out of his own pocket for the past month," he revealed grudgingly.
Yosano opened her mouth to speak, but a movement from behind interrupted her and made them turn towards it. Atsushi was standing in the doorway. His eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, and his mouth scrunched into a brooding grimace.
"Is the agency closing down?" he asked carefully. His voice was shaking, and he had to fight with his jaw to keep it from clattering his teeth together. "A-and what's going to happen to Dazai-san if we can't afford his treatment?"
Kunikida took his glasses off to rub his weary eyes, and Yosano sighed heavily and internally berated them both for not picking a more private spot for this conversation.
"He's going to be just fine Atsushi-kun, and of course not," Kunikida lied easily, albeit unconvincingly. "You don't have to worry about this."
Atsushi's eyebrows twitched as he scowled at the two older detectives. How stupid did they think he was? He had heard what they were talking about and they knew it! They said that the agency was out of money and that they wouldn't be able to give Dazai all the medical care necessary to give him the best chances to really, wholly , come back to them.
Did it really have to come to this? Choosing between the two things most important to him? Either the agency would just cease to exist, or his mentor would deteriorate into a whirlpool of suffering and trauma, or maybe both.
"Kunikida-kun is right," a deep voice resonated at the end of the corridor. All three agents turned around to see Fukuzawa, walking towards them in a resolute stride. Only when the large figure had walked all the way up to them, did he continue to speak, "It's not your job to worry about the agency's future, Atsushi-kun," he turned towards Kunikida and added, "neither is it yours. That responsibility falls entirely on me, and I will take care of it."
"May I offer a suggestion?" Yosano asked unwaveringly, and Fukuzawa granted her permission to speak with only a tilt of the head.
"I would like to continue Dazai-san's treatment at the infirmary as soon as possible. It will be more cost-efficient, and I personally think he will feel much safer in a familiar space."
Both Atsushi and Kunikida spun around, looking flabbergasted and slightly unnerved.
"Are you insane?" Kunikida spurted out, only to be shut up by Yosano's venomous stare. She turned her attention back to their director, waiting for his assessment.
"I will talk to the hospital," he said after a brief pause. "I won't let you work yourself to death by being the only one having the skill to take care of his medical needs."
"I'll be fine-"
"I said; I won't have it . If we can arrange some kind of out-patient treatment plan with the hospital, we might be able to do it. For now, he'll be staying here. I want half of you to come back to the agency tomorrow, while the other half can stay here and we'll switch every few days."
Nobody said anything, but Fukuzawa didn't expect them to.
"Now, I have some business to take care of. Call me if anything changes."
Fukuzawa left them bickering amongst themselves. He for one was going to find a solution, even if it meant betraying himself, and possibly even more, Dazai.
The next day, they had started their gradual transition with Kunikida, Yosano, Tanizaki, and Atsushi back at the office. Not much work was being done, but it was still more than what it had been these last few months. At least now they were able to let go of the guilt they had all felt when doing anything not related to Dazai's disappearance. Actually, even if their concentration was rather low, it felt strangely comforting to slowly fall back into their routine, even if half of the office was absent. Dazai was still sleeping most of the time, and whenever he was awake, it only lasted a couple of minutes. Each time, he didn't seem to have much of a recollection of being conscious earlier, so the regret for not being there was easier to handle.
"Uh, guys?" Haruno's light voice called from behind her desk. Some shuffling was heard as she got up. Then, she disappeared into the hallway towards the infirmary for a moment, where three rapid knocks were placed on a heavy door. She returned into the office space with a brown envelope in her hands. Three pairs of tired eyes looked up from their laptops, and Yosano came strolling in, looking slightly miffed before settling at the edge of Kunikida's desk.
The brunette fidgeted a little before neatly placing the envelope onto Kunikida's desk.
"This just came in with a private messenger service. It was addressed to the agency, so I opened it," she stated, still seeming oddly nervous.
Kunikida raised his eyebrows at her and picked up the torn envelope. Gingerly, he slid the folded piece of paper out and started reading.
As his eyes darted back and forth trailing down the page, his eyes only grew wider and wider.
"What is it, Kunikida-san?" Tanizaki asked and got up from his desk, pulling at Atsushi's arm to come with.
"It's a check," Kunikida proclaimed numbly. He held the piece of paper up for Yosano to see before he added, "...and it's generous."
Yosano grabbed the paper and read it thoroughly. "It says it's for the six months of searching for Dazai," she said in astonishment.
"How much is it?" Atsushi asked tensely.
"It's... generous," Yosano confirmed dumbly. She gave Kunikida an urgent look and tucked the piece of paper into his front pocket. "You should give this to the director."
"W-who is it from?" Atsushi prodded, trying fruitlessly to get a glimpse of the note.
"It was anonymous," Kunikida explained before he picked the note back up, unfolded it and started skimming what it said out loud, "...I choose to stay anonymous because of my position...heard that the armed detective agency has been going through some hard times… economical challenges… I hope this is enough to keep the Armed Detective Agency from struggling too much and help keep life in that..."
Kunikida's brows arched and he adjusted his glasses, pulling the paper closer to his face.
"...why the hell did they call Dazai a damn mackerel?"
I have this thing that I really wanna do, and I was wondering if someone would want to participate.
I'm writing a lot of whumpy Dazai fics lately, and the reason I write them is that I wanna read them. So I was wondering if anybody would want to write a Dazai Whump fic for me based on my work, and I'll write a Dazai Whump fic based on your work in return? And also, if you haven't written anything but would still like to give this a go, I'd still be happy to write a fic in return, if you'll send me a few key-words (and if you're an artist I would happily trade works too- but I'll spear you all my chicken-scratches and write something of course).
Please let me know in the comments!
I also just recently made a twitter account. I don't really know how to use it, cause I'm old AF (not really but kinda), but it's there! So please follow me for updates on the progress of my stories and… I don't know, other stuff. Possibly. Probably. MissTinfoilHat is the name. Give me a follow! (I still have yet to post anything, cause I'm not going to talk to myself in there, baha).
(If you really want to participate but think it's awkward to write anything about it in the comments, I'm also available for private messaging on tumblr, and discord (#5905) all under the username of MissTinfoilHat. (This also applies for fanfic requests).
This basically means that I'm up for writing anything whumpy Dazai with or without return- but I thought it might be fun!
