Author's Note: Hello everyone! Welcome to the first chapter of another new fic. I've had quite a few misfires as of late with my plot bunnies. I'm hoping this won't be another one. I've actually been thinking about this one for a bit since I've been re-watching Bungou Stray Dogs.
I will admit I absolutely detested Dazai's character at first and did not understand him at all. After watching it over again and getting into the third season, I'm understanding him and his reason for being the way he is a whole lot more. I rather like him a lot because unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I can actually identify with him on some levels.
The title, Too Weird to to Live and Too Rare to Die was part of a quote from the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (released May 1998) before it was a Panic at the Disco! album title (released October 2013). The following is the complete quote from the movie: "There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Does that not fit Dazai perfectly? So that's the history lesson for today and on with the story!
The woman stood at the parapet, her palms pressed to the top of the waist high wall surrounding the roof as she looked over at the street below. She seemed to be gauging the distance.
Dazai watches as she plants her hands firmly and hauls her body up onto the wall with the strength and grace of a gymnast. Surely she realizes it is not high enough to kill her instantly when she hits the sidewalk - unless she lands a certain way. Perhaps she is musing if she will have a heart attack on the way down due to the building's height. He would say most likely not.
He studies her more closely from his vantage point in a room almost directly across from her in the building across the street. He had the feeling Kunikida has sent him on a fool's errand to keep him busy and out of his hair. He had been conducting surveillance on Chūya Nakahara's most recent activities when he happened upon this woman who appeared to be contemplating suicide. Bored to tears, she was the most interesting thing he had seen all night and it was nearly dawn. Needless to say, she immediately captured his attention, and he could not look away.
Lifting the binoculars, Dazai focuses on her face. She has a cute face with large, fawn like brown eyes, a short little button nose, and round, softly blushed cheeks. Her curly brown hair, the same rich chocolate color of her eyes, is pulled back in a high ponytail. She is short with the thick, solid physique of a gymnast which makes her look even younger. Despite her almost childlike appearance, he would guess her age to be around his, somewhere in her early twenties.
She is dressed casually in skinny blue jeans that look as if they were painted onto her muscular legs accentuating every curve and toned muscle. Her shirt is white and loose fitting in contrast. The material is gauzy, almost see through with a white tank top underneath. The ruffles at the top draped around her shoulders and at her wrists fluttered in the wind blowing around her.
A curl came loose from her ponytail, falling into her face. As she pushed it away from her eyes and behind her ear, Dazai noticed her tears. She looked so sad. Of course she is depressed. Why else would she be contemplating suicide? Not everyone is like him and views it as a hobby.
He leaned forward with interest as she placed her toes at the edge of the wall. Her feet are bare. Lining up the soles of her feet and her toes curling over the edge, she held her hands stiffly at her sides like a diver preparing to leap from a diving board. However, she would be diving into thin air with a sudden tragic stop at the bottom instead of gliding safely through water.
He had no intention of stopping her. His only desire is to join her, to fulfill his yearning to commit a double suicide with a lovely woman. However, he cannot. He must stay put and go back to his present duty of finding out what the Port Mafia is presently plotting. That should not be too hard to figure out since dear Chūya is always so freaking obvious. But he had not seen one single orange hair on the shrimp's head nor that ugly hat so he felt safe that he would not miss anything by taking a break to watch someone far more interesting at the moment.
Dazai leaned forward a little bit more as she stuck one foot out, toe pointed gracefully, allowing her foot to hover in the air as she balanced on the toes of her other foot. She raised her hands, her fingers extended to the gray pre-dawn sky in as if greeting the unseen sun that had not yet risen over the horizon. He held his breath as she pushed off with her toes and tipped her body downward. She looked like a beautiful ballerina jumping to her glorious and welcomed self-imposed end.
There are no people on the street below. All the drunks have gone home and the office workers are not yet away to get ready for their day. She had strategically chosen this time to commit suicide when there would be no innocent pedestrians to hit and inadvertently take them with her in her self-destructive endeavors.
Dazai sat back before he fell out of his chair as her body fell. He sighed dejectedly. The sound of her body striking the sidewalk with an anti-climactic, almost comical really (at least to someone like him), splat drew another despondent sigh from his lips.
If only he could have joined her. He doubted he would have actually died. So far he had been annoyingly unsuccessful in his many suicide attempts. But that notwithstanding, being by her side as they plummeted through the air hand in hand would have been so romantic - and so much fun. His definition of fun is definitely not like most people's.
"Dammit! Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" he heard a woman screaming in a fit of rage.
"Huh?" he muttered to himself, looking down at the sidewalk. "What the - "
There she stood in the middle of a pool of her own blood. She rolled her neck and shoulders as if working out soreness from sleeping wrong last night instead of jumping off a building and most likely breaking most if not all of her bones. Blood covered her face and the front of her shirt making it stick to her body.
"Ugh," she groaned, staring at the blood splatter on the sidewalk under her feet. "Look at this mess."
Her words carried easily through the early morning stillness. At this hour and in this part of town, she is the only one on the street and her angry voice carries on the breeze up to him on the fourth floor.
"She's alive. Hmmm...apparently she has an ability," he mumbles to himself.
Excitement builds inside of him making his heart beat wildly and his body vibrate. He continues to study her as she limps and stumbles, then regains her balance and limps a little more. After a few more pacing circles, dragging her dead leg behind her, she begins to walk normally.
His train of thought races down the tracks of his mind with dozens of questions. Is it a healing ability? Restoration? Resurrection from death? Does it give her something closely related to immortality? Can she share this gift with others and heal them?
Other important questions circulating in his mind, and a little more personal in nature. Was she just testing her ability or does she really want to die? Would she need someone like him to take her power away to grant her the death she seeks? Whatever her reasons, she captivated him because she seemed to share his interest in suicide for one reason or another.
He also began to wonder if she could be the one to give him what he desired in return: a romantic double suicide. Romeo and Juliet style, preferably as painless as possible, would be absolutely perfect.
Dazai keeps his eyes on her as she turns to walk back inside the building. That must be an apartment building, and she lives there. At least he knew where to find her even if it meant knocking on a few doors in his quest.
He never considered how weird it would be to show up at her door asking if she would like to commit double suicide with him. Of course, he never really had given much thought before he asked a beautiful woman that question because he was too consumed with the yearning for it to think about the idiocy involved with just blurting out the request.
~\./~
Kokoro turned off the shower to hear an incessant pounding at her front door. She groaned and pulled her robe from the hook, dragging it onto her wet body. She still hurt and was in no mood to deal with unwanted guests. On her way out of the bathroom, she took a towel to wrap around her soaking wet head.
Had someone saw her and called the police? It had happened before. It was hell to explain but finally she appeased them with a lie that she was a stunt woman practicing a stunt for a B-grade horror film. Maybe she could use that one again because it had worked so well before. How could they argue because no one sees the stunt double's face, and it was a crappy movie not many would watch anyway?
"I'm coming!" she bellowed as they continued beating their fists on the door as if they meant to knock it down. Snatching open the door, she yelled, "What do you - "
Seeing a man dressed in a beige trench coat and khaki pants, she immediately wondered if they had sent a detective. If they had, she is in real big trouble. But that was an awfully fast response time. Besides, he did not look like any kind of police officer, especially a detective, with his shaggy hair - all brown with no grays - and his clean shaven, wrinkle free face. Also, why the hell does he have bandages wrapped around his neck and arms?
"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, using her body to bar entrance into her apartment.
He is a lot taller than her but thin. She doubted he would be able to force her back and push his way inside. She might be short but her many years spent in gymnastics, dance, and martial arts would make her a formidable adversary and no easy victim. Besides, the idea of dying did not scare because she could not die no matter how much she wanted to.
"I saw you," he said, his voice low but non-threatening as if he wanted to keep her secret between them.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked again, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What do you think you know?"
"Can I come inside to talk to you? I know this is odd, but - "
"Odd? This is beyond odd," she snapped, leaning against the door jamb and pulling the door against her body to narrow the gap.
"You look great for a woman who should be dead right now," he complimented her with sincerity.
Her blood coursed faster through her veins, pounding in her ears.
"What do you want from me?"
"My name is Osamu Dazai. I work for a detective agency," he said.
"What kind of detective agency? Are you investigating me? Why?" she demanded in rapid succession.
"A detective agency that investigates crimes the police can't solve, usually involving people with unique abilities...like yours. I'm not investigating you. I'm here out of personal curiosity. I was here watching someone else when I saw you. There is an important matter I would like to discuss with you. "
"Do you mean blackmail? Not gonna happen, buddy. Go try to extort someone else." She moved back and began closing the door. "No one would believe you anyway."
"I'm here to ask if you will commit double suicide with me," he blurted before she completely shut the door in his face.
The woman pulled the door back open with such force it created a suction that ruffled his hair and pulled the untied belt of his coat forward.
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" she growled at him. "Are you stupid or just plain crazy?"
"Neither. Just suicidal," he answered calmly as if were the most normal thing in the world.
"You are crazy," she surmised, pushing the door toward him.
"Wait!" he exclaimed, shoving his foot in between the door and jamb to keep her from closing it.
She stomped her foot down on his sending pain coursing from his toes up his leg. Despite her being barefoot and him wearing shoes, she inflicted a surprising amount of pain with that powerful stomp making him draw back his foot. The door slammed in his face.
"I may look short and helpless, but I assure you I am not!" she hollered at him through the door.
"I'm aware! That hurt like hell!" he yelled from the other side.
"Look, I don't know what your deal is but you need to take your crazy or whatever the hell is wrong with you away from me. I've got enough problems of my own. So if you don't mind, please go away. "
"Just hear me out. Please," he begged.
He sounded so pitiful. She could picture his eyes, big and brown and puppy dog like staring at the door.
"Ugh," she groaned opening the door. "I'm going to regret this."
His hand thrust forward, grabbing her hand.
"What are you do - " Suddenly she could not remember how to speak as blinding pain flashed through her head like lightning. The suddenness and severity knocked her to her knees.
Slumping forward, her already aching head banged into the half open door because she could no longer sit up straight with a broken back. Her entire body throbbed and pulsated with a white hot pain from the shattered bones scattered throughout. She felt the cuts on her face split, opening back up to ooze blood, warm and wet, down her cheeks. The blood dripped from her chin onto her white robe. Her body had not yet fully healed itself, and her injuries from her fall were returning. Quickly, he let go of her hand.
Kokoro looked up at the man standing in front of her when her spinal column knitted itself back together enough for her to hold her head up. Slowly, the pain began to recede as did the dizziness and nausea resulting from it when her wounds healed to a tolerable and functional point.
"What did you do to me?" she asked, pulling the towel from her hair to wipe the blood from her face.
"I have the ability to take away someone's power. I totally nullify it. You have a miraculous healing gift," he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Apparently, it takes a little time to completely heal after coming back from the brink of death."
"Yes, it's a long walk," she agreed, standing up on uncertain legs.
"Not too long. It happened pretty quickly for you," he countered.
"It does. Won't you come in?" she invited him, moving to the side to allow him inside.
After he stepped inside her apartment, she closed the door and locked it behind him. Waving her arm toward to the small but neat sitting area, she invited him to take a seat on the white couch. He sat in her favorite chair instead: a worn but comfortable recliner that used to belong to her mother.
"Do you want coffee?" she asked, walking into the kitchen area to her right.
"That would be great," he replied.
"What do you want from me, Osamu Dazai?" she questioned him as she set about spooning the coffee into the small coffeemaker on her counter.
"I was serious when I said I want to commit a double suicide with you," he said nonchalantly, glancing around her apartment.
The place is bare because she just moved here, although she usually did not bother putting up pictures or setting out a lot of personal items. The recliner was the only real personal item she kept anyway aside from a few photo albums and other little mementos. She did not like the idea of a bunch strangers digging through her belongings should she finally succeed in her endeavors to die.
"Is approaching a complete stranger and asking them to die with you something you do often?" she asked while taking down her favorite sturdy brown mugs from the cabinet.
"Actually it is," he admitted.
"You're a very weird man," she said, coming around the end of the counter to walk past him to the short hall. The door to her bedroom was on the left and the bathroom on the right.
"Do you often let strange men into your apartment who ask you to commit suicide with them?" he asked in return, raising his voice enough for her to hear him through the wall.
"No. This is a first for me," she answered.
Kokoro pulled on a demure purple dress with cap sleeves and a mid calf length pleated skirt. She left her feet bare. She hated wearing shoes of any kind an never wore socks even in winter.
"I'm glad I could be your first," he remarked with a sideways grin on his face when she walked back to the kitchen.
Her mouth quirked up on one side in an equally mischievous smile. She would accept the flirtatious double entendre without offence. The man had asked her to commit the incredibly personal and intimate act of sharing death with him after all. What's the harm in being a bit flirty?
"Cream? Sugar?" she asked as she poured their coffee.
"Just black," he requested.
"Ew," she mumbled under breath, pouring cream into hers. "Psychopath."
"Maybe so," he returned. "But it's part of my charm."
"I bet," she returned, picking up the mugs to take one to him. As she extended the cup to him, she introduced herself. "My name is Kokoro Ueda."
"I was wondering if I was going to have to ask for your name. That is a very nice name. Kokoro," he repeated as if testing out the sound. "It means heart, mind, and soul, doesn't it? How did you get such a lovely and unusual name?"
"It does. I'm surprised you know that. My mother gave me my name. She said I was the best parts of her and my father's heart, mind, and soul all wrapped up in one person. But most days I'm not so sure about that. What else do you want to know about me, Mr. Dazai?" she asked speaking coldly and formally to him. She sat down in the corner of the couch opposite and diagonally from him.
"You tell me anything you want me to know about you, Kokoro Ueda."
They were going to know each other's name well before this bizarre encounter ended.
"I'm sure you're curious about my gift, my ability, my power...whatever you want to call it," she stated as if bored with the conversation already.
"I am," he confirmed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Mmmm, this is really good. I like a woman who can make a great cup of coffee."
"Aren't you nice?" she muttered, accepting the compliment as flattery to get her to talk.
She did not need an empty compliments to be cajoled into telling him about herself. She was going to tell him what he wanted to know. Besides, he was the first man who was genuinely interested in this unusual 'gift' as he called it. Most could not get away from her fast enough after accidentally witnessing her ability.
"I guess it's a healing ability. I can basically reset my body to how it was thirty minutes before the damage occurred," she explained. "But it takes time to fully heal. I guess it's kinda like a computer reverting back to an earlier save point. It takes time to reload the programming."
"Thirty minutes, huh? That's oddly specific. How did you find that out?" he inquired, raising his mug to take a drink and staring at her over the rim.
He is nice looking. Kokoro particularly liked his dark brown eyes. Looking into them she could see nothing but an honest inquisitiveness. That was refreshing. He did not look her up and down with lecherous interest or sneer with disgust because she did not have a pencil thin body. How she looked seemed to be of no consequence to him . Only her ability to heal - and her willingness to die - interested him at the moment.
"Lots of experiments and pain. In getting the timing worked out, I did suffer many broken bones and a concussion or two. Maybe those concussion were worse than I thought and that's why I let you in," she laughed with self-derision rather than amusement.
"Maybe you're like me and just have an unhealthy curiosity for dangerous things," Osamu Dazai quipped.
There was a flash of something dark in his eyes that gave her pause. Her insides clenched, tightening until she felt nauseated. Had she made a mistake by letting this man into her apartment? Before she could figure out exactly what that look meant, it was gone.
Perhaps he just had a bleak, hurtful past that still caused him pain which would account for his suicidal tendencies. Or maybe he could not feel a damn thing and was just desperate to feel something, anything, besides the nothingness - the cold, dark void that threatened to encompass him and swallow him whole.
Kokoro shook her head. She was being silly. She was projecting to justify her own self-homicidal thoughts which is probably why she allowed him in. If he did mean her harm, which she believed he did not, it would not have been the first time a man tried to murder her due to her naivete and willingness to trust a stranger.
"Are you a dangerous thing, Mr. Dazai?" she asked, meeting his penetrating gaze.
"More so than you can imagine," he answered in his quiet, smooth voice, smiling at her.
Her heart skipped a few beats, but her eyes never wavered from his. For a moment she wondered how a man with a smile that sweet could pose a threat. But then again, isn't that what she wants? A man who is hazardous to her well being? He wanted the same thing she wanted: to die. To die with someone is better than to die alone. Isn't it?
"Sure," she replied, noncommittally shrugging her shoulders. "Why not?"
"I was hoping you would feel that way. A death pact then? A double suicide?" he inquired, getting up from the chair to move to the couch to sit closer to her - but not so close as to be too forward.
"What happens if one of us survives?" she asked, putting her coffee mug down on the small table behind her.
"We'll do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen. We can discuss the specifics later. So..." he began, extending his hand to her. "Do we have a deal?"
"Yes," she replied, placing her hand in his palm. "We have a deal, Mr. Dazai."
"Please, call me Osamu," he requested, squeezing her hand before letting it go.
"All right, Osamu. We have a suicide pact then," she stated formally.
Osamu Dazai pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. Without even having to ask, Kokoro entered her number and pressed the green receiver button on the screen. She waited until she could hear her phone ringing in the other room before sliding her finger left from the red button.
"There. I have your number too," she said, handing the phone back to him.
"One more question before I go," he said, leaning toward her, his eyes on hers. "Can you heal other people? That could be problematic in our pursuit of that beautiful end."
"I can, but only within a ten minute time frame."
"Trial and error?"
"Uh huh. It never worked out well for me. My gift, as you call it, scared everyone who meant anything to me if I used it to heal them...to save them. I always wound up alone in the end. Some gift, huh?"
His fingertips rested on her cheek as he continued to gaze directly into her eyes. Her insides felt like gelatin, quivering and shaking as he mesmerized her with those genuine and honest brown eyes of his.
"I won't leave you alone. You're the one who finally gave me the answer I wanted to my question," he said, removing his hand and standing up.
"What question is that?" she asked, following him to the door.
After sliding back the deadbolt, he turned to look at her.
"When I asked you to commit a double suicide with me, you said yes."
Dazai Osamu gave her one last enchanting smile and was gone.
Kokoro closed and locked the door, leaning against it. Dizziness swamped her, further heightening the over all surreal sensation of the interaction that just took place.
"Huh," she murmured. "So that just happened. I might have finally found that special man I've been searching for all this time."