Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dazai found himself staring into space. Something about his dorm never felt quite like home, but his fragmented memories would never tell him why. His most recent case had just set him off more, remembering the disgusting scene of torture that he’d had to try to dissect and solve, bodies mangled and torn apart in front of him. There was nothing left to be done for those poor souls.

A loud knock on the door stopped him from stewing in his thoughts for the moment. He opened it, finding none other than his coworker, Atsushi, standing there.

“Dazai, You’ve been out of work for a few days… I just wanted to check in.”

A few days? No, that couldn’t be right. He’d just gotten home, hadn’t he? He turned to his surroundings, confused, noticing a handful of extra bottles that he didn’t remember emptying. Where… Did those come from?

“Dazai?” The boy once again drew his attention, shaking him out of his stupor.

“Yes- sorry. I just wanted a couple days off~! Is Kunikida bothering you?” He tried to put on his usual playful demeanor, although it fell flat. He hated when he was easy to read.

“No, no. I just want to make sure you’re alright. You’ve been… weird… since our last mission. Can I come in?”

“Um… Yeah! Of course!” He moved out of Atsushi’s way, stepping to the side.

The boy looked around, noticing the mess of bottles and take-out containers. He began to pick them up.

“What are you doing?”

“Well… I want to clean this up for you a bit. It might help you feel a bit better after all.”

“It’s- it’s okay. You don’t need to, I’m capable of doing it myself.”

“I know, It’s just to help out.”

Dazai sighed, mildly annoyed at Atsushi’s kindness. He was capable. He didn’t want to be an inconvenience. He didn’t need help.

“Dazai?”

“Hm-?”

“You seem… out of it. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m okay.” He hissed. “Just- go. I’m fine. Go back to work.”

Atsushi was caught off guard. “Dazai-?”

“That’s not my name!” He shouted, opening the door roughly. “Go. I’ll deal with this myself.”

“Okay… Sorry.” Atsushi left, ‘Dazai’ slamming the door behind him. He couldn’t stop himself as the tears began to flow. What was happening to him?

A memory flashed through his mind. A much younger Dazai stood in front of a body. The brains of the body had been blown onto the wall, and the boy held the gun in his own hands. Blood was splattered on his legs and clothes, fingernails of the figure in front of him were scattered on the floor, and there were several deep gashes in Dazai’s own body. He turned to a shadow next to him, staring up as he felt hands flash up and down his frame.

What… was that?

He suddenly found himself back out with the Detective agency. He stopped in his tracks, much to Kunikida’s dismay, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering how the fuck he’d ended up there.

“Stop dawdling! We have a mission to do!” The man grabbed Dazai’s wrist to pull him along, causing him to flinch. Another memory flashed by, disappearing before he had the chance to process it.

“The warehouse is right around the corner. Come on.” He pulled Dazai roughly, yanking him around the bend and to the doors. “Are you ready?”

“Huh-?” Dazai stared at the large metal doors before nodding. “Yeah… Yeah.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow but decided not to press the issue, unlocking and opening the doors. Inside a stench like no other immediately hit their noses. The warehouse was completely covered in blood, smelling like rot and death. Kunikida pinched his nose, gagging a bit as Dazai stared at the scene. Something seemed so… Familiar.

On the floor of the warehouse, the body of a young girl lay, hair crusted with blood and gashes all over her small frame. She had been flipped on her back, revealing a cross shaped incision on her chest where her heart should have been, however, it was suspended above her by a wire in the ceiling. It was disgusting, yet Dazai found himself stepping closer. He knelt down next to her, examining the body that lay before him. She couldn’t have been dead for more than a handful of hours.

“God… I can’t believe someone would do this. She’s so young too…” Kunikida interrupted the silence. “We should take our photos and get back to the agency. We have… A lot of work to do.”

“Uh huh.” Dazai replied flatly, practically glued to his spot. He couldn’t look away. Memories would flash through his mind before slipping away before he could even begin to unpack them, leaving him in a haze. He finally stood up, brushing off his now blood-soaked pants and signaling to Kunikida to begin taking the pictures of evidence they needed.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, Dazai unable to process any of it as he found himself back in his dorm. He crawled into his bed, the shadows of faces and corpses he didn’t recognize dancing in the edges of his vision. It was nothing he wasn’t used to, this time was just… different. He found himself tossing and turning to get away from the sight, never quite being able to escape it. He continued this cycle until he found himself falling into a restless sleep.

*******

“Shuuji? Where’d you go?”

He hid under a table, giggling as he curled up further.

“I hear youuu~!”

He gasped and covered his mouth, trying to quiet down. After all, he was supposed to be the best at this game! He loved playing it, he’d spent hours memorizing all the best places, and yet…

“Found you!”

A woman crouched down to face him, a warm smile on her face.

“No fair! You must’ve cheated!” He pouted. “No one should be able to find me here!”

“Well, I’ve always found you.” She chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Now, come. We have our ceremony to get to.”

Shuuji groaned, crawling out from under the table. “Do I have to? It’s always so boring!”

“This one’s especially important.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” She tapped his nose lightly. “Let’s get going.”
She led him to a large church, hundreds of members sitting down in the pews. He glanced towards their usual spot, his body carrying him there on instinct, however, this time, he was told to continue walking. He and the woman made their way to the center stage where a man stood. He was dressed in white robes, his face oddly covered in a shadow that obscured most of his features. Then he began to speak.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the cycle of life. This young woman has done her duties to us by birthing and raising her next of kin, and will now ascend to her higher state. Rejoice!”

Shuuji turned to the woman, confused by what this meant. This wasn’t the ceremony he was used to. She knelt down, placing a kiss to his forehead before turning back to the man in white. “Father, thank you. I’m ready to reach my purpose.”

“Wonderful.” He pulled two tools from the table behind him. One was a small pairing knife, its handle intricately carved with the scenery of the Garden of Eden. The other tool was a simple hammer. He approached Shuuji with both tools in hand, smiling at the young boy. “Now, I’ll lead you.”

“What’s happening, father?” The young boy looked up at him, uncertain.

“Your mother is reaching her true form. She was born for this purpose. Everyone is, and one day you may have your turn too.” He took a deep breath. “Take this knife. I will show you what to do with it when I am finished with my job.”

Shuuji nodded, taking the small knife in his hands and watching the priest turn to his mother. “Now! Watch as she lays on the holy tarp, where she shall reach her higher being. Rejoice, all of you!”

The man brought the hammer down to the woman’s skull, blood splattering everywhere as the room erupted into cheers. Shuuji stared, mouth agape in shock as he watched the man continue to pummel into his mothers head until she was unrecognizable. Blood soaked into the floorboards as she lay motionless.

“Now, it’s your turn, young one.”

*******

Dazai woke with a gasp, clutching his chest and panting. What… was that? He shook his head, trying to calm himself down. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, but… Something was so oddly familiar. Who is Shuuji? Why was that name one he remembered? He didn’t know a Shuuji. Could it have been someone he met on a mission? His mind swirled as he got up, pacing around to shake off these thoughts. Something was so very wrong here. He didn’t know what, just that it wasn’t right. Nothing was right. He rested his head on the wall, staring down at the floor. He’ll just wait until morning before doing anything else.

Chapter Text

After his restless night he began to make his way to the Detective Agency. It was rare for him to be on time, if not early, but something about this case had him drawn to it like a fly to a porchlight. No matter how much it burned, he couldn't stop himself from being entranced by it. It was both devastating and utterly fascinating. He made his way to his desk, ignoring the perplexed stares from his coworkers.

“Dazai, you’re early… Is everything alright?” Atsushi asked, eyeing the man cautiously. They hadn’t spoken since Dazai blew up at him. In fact, he’d barely seen the man at all. 

“I’m fine. Thank you, Atsushi.” He offered a weak smile before beginning to sort through the paperwork. There were dozens of photos from the scene of the crime, each with different angles and close ups of different aspects. He was particularly intrigued with the photo of the wound on the girl’s chest. Something about the deep, cross-shaped hole that led down to her organs seemed so oddly familiar, almost like a ghost of the past that he couldn’t quite remember. 

“Osamu, you’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m just focused, Yosano. Something you wouldn’t understand.” 

She flicked his forehead. “Bullshit. I’m always picking up your slack.”

Dazai didn’t have it in him to try to fight back, instead simply turning back to his desk. He continued to study each photo, picking them apart until there was nothing left to decipher. Nothing led him to the identity of who was behind this. He sighed loudly, frustrated as he stood up. He needed a smoke.

He walked out to the sidewalk, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He didn’t quite remember when he began to smoke, but it’s become too much of a habit for him to try to quit, much to the distaste of his colleagues. He continued to think over the photos as he smoked. Maybe there was something he was missing? The woman’s body had already been taken to be autopsied so there was no way he could get another look at it. He stomped out the butt of his cig before going back inside. He was just in time, too.

Ranpo stood over his desk, shuffling papers around in a frenzy. 

“What’s going on? You never look panicked.”

“There’s been another murder. We need to go. Now.” Ranpo grabbed Dazai’s arm, as well as Atsushi’s, and brought them out to a taxi. His face was pale, something that was incredibly rare for the detective. It freaked the two other men out. The taxi led them to a small townhouse in the heart of Yokohama. It looked surprisingly normal for the place of a supposed murder. The three men hopped out of the car and approached the door, Ranpo leading the charge as he slipped on a pair of blue latex gloves. “You’re going to want a mask. It’s going to reek in there.”

“Would have been nice to know before we left.” Dazai muttered under his breath before a mask was slipped into his hands. “...Thank you?”

“Follow me. It’s going to be rough in there.” Ranpo took a deep breath before opening the front door.

The stench inside was unbearable. Even with the masks on, the three were overwhelmed with the scent of rot, blood, and vomit. No wonder the police didn’t want to take this case. Simply getting in the front door was a nightmare in and of itself. The room they entered looked fairly normal despite the smell, the only telltale sign that anything was wrong being a massive red stain on the couch that took up the majority of one of the cushions. “Go search the other rooms. Holler if you find a body or anything that could lead to one.”

“Got it.” Atsushi went to search in the dining room while Dazai took the nearby bedroom. Entering it was horrific. He didn’t see a body, but the damn place looked like there had been one in there. The smell alone made him gag and choke, and he’d wished he’d brought something to block the scent. The room consisted of a single mattress on the floor, a bowl placed in the corner, and hooks on the wall that had rope attached, almost like a leash. The bowl was full of rotten, moldy food that looked like someone had recently eaten some. The mattress was stained with blood, urine, and other stains he couldn’t identify from how old they seemed to be. He’d have to take it for testing. He really did not want to. The idea of having to take anything from this house seemed like a nightmare.

“Dazai! Ranpo! I found something!” Atsushi called, unable to hide the tremble in his voice. The two detectives rushed over.

“...Well, good job on finding the body.”

In the center of the kitchen floor was the body of another young girl. She was murdered in the same way as the girl prior, a carving of a cross on her chest. This time, the heart hadn’t been suspended in the air, it was simply placed to the side in a kitchen pot. Blood was still flowing from her head that had been caved in. It wasn’t long before they found the tool that had been used. The spiked end of a meat tenderizer.

Atsushi gagged before retching in the trash can. It was clear she hadn’t been dead for long, at most a couple of hours. How did no one realize this was happening? The silence in the home was deafening.

“...Begin taking DNA samples as well as pictures. We need to get to the bottom of this. Take pictures of every room in the house. We’ll call a coroner once we’re finished.” Ranpo instructed, his tone lacking any of his usual playfulness. It was so odd to see the man who seemed to never be fazed by anything become so grim.

The three of them split up, Ranpo getting pictures of the kitchen and the body, Atsushi taking the living and dining room, and Dazai going to the two bedrooms and bathroom. The bathroom was vile, unflushed vomit and feces coating the toilet and the floor around it, the sink was full of mold, but nothing even began to compare to the bathtub. Blood caked the entire tub and walls, along with tens of lumps of cross-shaped flesh pieces. He snapped a picture before leaving. He couldn’t stay there anymore.

He then went to the bedroom he did before, searching every nook and cranny for anything he didn’t notice before taking the pictures he needed and moving on to the second bedroom. It was… surprisingly normal. That almost disturbed him more. In a home full of numerous bodily fluids and a stench that seeped into every crevice, the sight of a perfectly untouched room haunted him. He searched through for anything that may be out of place, but found nothing. It was so odd. His skin crawled as he took the pictures he needed and left to find the others.

Ranpo finished taking the pictures from the kitchen, moving on to help Atsushi before they all began to leave. The ride back to the agency was near silent, the three men haunted by the sights they had seen in that house. Once they made it back, they simply dropped off the photos and headed to their separate dorms. Dazai laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling as the events of the day ran through his mind. He was desperate for answers. Something about the rooms of that house, the paintings on the walls and the patterns of the furniture, seemed so familiar to him. This case was driving him insane. He groaned as he flopped over, burying his face in his pillow. His skin burned with a familiar feeling of discomfort, his awareness of his own skin making him shudder. He needed to remove his bandages anyway. He trudged his way over to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, removing his shirt.

Dazai couldn’t remember where he’d gotten every scar on his body. Sure, he knew where a fair amount of them came from as he had placed them there himself, but there was an uncomfortable amount of them that he had absolutely zero clue how they had gotten there. He never really questioned it, but after this recent case… he couldn’t help but notice the odd amount of cross-shaped scars littered all over his body. He’d always brushed over them before, but it was uncanny how methodically placed they seemed to be. He brushed his hand over a particularly large one on his upper arm, the scar raised and turned white with age. 

“This is for your own good, Shuuji.”

What?

He whipped his head around, searching for the voice. Where did that come from? Who was that? Why was that name from his dream coming back? He stood up to go search his house, goosebumps rising on his flesh where they could. 

“Get the hell out of here before I find you!”

He was met with no response, just the sound of his air conditioner running and the faint humming of the lights. Could he be hallucinating? It wasn’t uncommon, he was often plagued by disembodied voices or visions of things that weren’t there. This one was… odd, however. It sent a chill down his spine in a way no other voice had before. He sighed loudly, hanging his head in his hands. He hated when his mind played tricks on him like this.

He returned to his spot in the bathroom, throwing on his shirt. His mind was fuzzy, and he hadn’t quite noticed how exhausted his body was. He made his way back to his bed before crashing. His eyes fluttered shut and he fell into a restless sleep

Chapter Text

Snow fell on the ground, coating the grass in a gentle layer of white as Shuuji watched. This time of year was always peaceful for him. His church celebrated the winter holidays in a much less… violent way than they did with their other rituals. There were always lavish feasts on the tables and a sense of cheer that filled the air for once. 

“Shuuji?”

He glanced over to see his mother watching him, a warm smile on her face. “Yes mama?”

“Come for breakfast. It’s really good today, the chefs made some steamed rice with salmon and miso soup!” She beckoned him over. “Come!”

Shuuji sighed, walking over to her. “I wanna watch the snowwwww!”

His mother wrapped an arm around him and began walking towards the dining hall. “You’ll have plenty of time later. For now, you need to get some food in you. It’s Christmas, after all!”

They walked to the dining hall together, sitting down at a long table with the other members of their church as the food was brought out. Everyone was laughing and chatting with each other. He leaned on his mother, quietly listening to the talk around him as he waited. A loud bell rang out and the room fell silent.

“Good morning and merry Christmas, everyone!”

“Good morning, Father!” The crowd chanted in reply, turning their heads to face the man. 

“I hope you all are having an amazing morning. Did we all see the snow?”

A handful of people nodded in response.

“Good! Good. Well, I won’t keep you any longer.” He clasped his hands together, every member following suit. 

“Thank you, heavenly father, for this meal. We are very grateful that you have given us the resources and community to share this blessing and we thank you for all you do. We will continue to live under your grace and care until we ascend to our higher plane.”

“Amen.” The man smiled, looking up at the crow. “Let’s eat!”  

Shuuji’s mother began to sip on her soup as the boy picked at his food, making a face. “What’s wrong?

“It’s gross.”

“It’s not gross, you haven’t even tried it yet. Be grateful and eat what you are given.”

He whined, pushing his food away. “I don’t want it.”

“Too bad. Eat it. It is Christmas. You aren’t going to ruin it with your picky eating.”

Shuuji grumbled, picking up his fork and stabbing into the salmon, taking a bite. It wasn’t that bad, it had the same taste as most other foods did to him. Bland and gross, just to fuel the body. He didn’t want to disappoint his mother though. He managed to stomach about half of his food before pushing it away again, this time out of fullness rather than disgust. He looked at his mother, waiting to be excused from the table. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to leave until everyone was finished eating, but he tended to get special treatment.

“You can go back to  your room now, Shuuji. Thank you for waiting.” She gave him a side hug before shooing him off, watching him run back to his room to go watch the snow again. 

He stared outside the window in his room, happily watching the snowflakes race each other to the ground and plop down onto a perfect pillow of white. If he’d been allowed to go outside, he’d run through the snow, making snowmen and other sculptures. Unfortunately, he had to wait, having no other option than to imagine himself having fun. 

He sighed, leaning his head against the cold glass. It felt nice. It gave his body a chill. As the spot on the glass absorbed the heat from his head, he’d move it to a fresh spot until he had no more spots left on the window. 

How annoying.

Chapter Text

Dazai took a long drag from his cigarette, standing on his balcony. He was so exhausted. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever and he could feel the soreness in his muscles whenever he walked. This case was taking a massive toll on his health, but he couldn’t bring himself to care much. Even through the skipped meals and the new wounds that just seemingly appeared, he was perfectly fine… right?

Now that he’d thought about it, he didn’t remember much of the past week. He’d wake up in the morning with deep cuts that he didn’t remember making, ending up in places he never traveled to, even coming to in the middle of missions. It was inconvenient at best, mostly making him want to tear his hair out. It was wearing him thin, and he was sure the others could see that.

“Osamu?”

Dazai jumped, looking to where the voice came from. Fukuzawa stood underneath his balcony, looking up at him.

“Oh- Sir. What do you need?”

“I’m just here to talk to you. You seem… on edge lately.”

“What do you mean?” He snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray next to him.

“You’ve been jumpy. Every little noise or movement seems to scare you.”

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wasn’t necessarily lying, he had never noticed himself being more prone to anxiety than usual. Then again, he wasn’t paying attention to much in general. Every movement felt like he was moving through syrup, and the days meshed together into one blur he couldn’t process.

“Well, the rest of us have noticed it. Do you mind if I come up there to chat?”

“Not at all.” He lied, plastering a welcoming smile on his face. He truly just wanted to be left alone.

Fukuzawa made his way up to the balcony, standing next to Dazai. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been eating much. Is it the stress of the case?”

“So blunt. I suppose that’s the cause. It’s hard to have an appetite with sights like those running through your head.” He chuckled a bit, turning to face the president. “I’ll be alright though. I’ll be more mindful of my meals.”

He was lying, of course. Every part of his body seemed to despise food now. Just the thought made him nauseous. Besides, he didn’t really need food, right?

“He wasn’t human.”

Dazai shook his head. Where did that come from? 

“Dazai? Are you alright?”

“Ah- yes. I’m fine.”

“I’d also like to discuss your work flow. You’ve barely touched anything other than this case, and it’s worrying. We understand that you’re struggling right now, but there is still a certain level of work you need to be doing. Do you need any help from me?”

Of course. This was the real reason the president was here. Scold him about his lack of work and leave.

“No, I’m alright. I apologize, I’ll do better on balancing my work.”

“Thank you.” He placed a hand on Dazai’s shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to ask for help. You’re family here. It’s going to be okay.”

“Thanks.” He gave his best content smile. “I’ll start getting back to it tomorrow, I’m… out of it today.”

“That’s alright, as long as it gets done.” Fukuzawa began to walk away. “See you tomorrow, Dazai.”

Dazai waved before entering his dorm. His chest rose and fell rapidly and he felt his stomach churn. He rushed to the bathroom, hunching down just in time to throw up the very little food he had. He gagged and coughed, watching his vomit turn bright yellow with acid. It tasted disgusting, the taste lingering as he heaved until he couldn’t anymore. Standing up, he swayed back and forth, holding on to the sink for balance. He glanced at his reflection, tears in his eyes from throwing up and his lips puffy and red. It was disgusting. His body shook as he left the bathroom, flopping down on his couch. Limbs aching and stomach still turning and sore, he curled up and pulled a blanket over his body, turning on the television.

“New murder found on 46th street, police still looking…”

He let the story play, the gruesome details playing through his head. The body in the kitchen, the vomit and blood everywhere, it was disgusting how vivid his memory was. His hands subconsciously ghosted over his arms, feeling every little ridge. He hissed when his finger dug into an open wound. He pulled off his bandages, staring at it. 

It was deep . He hadn’t remembered making it. A blade had clearly done the work, the lines cleanly sliced through skin and fat. It was still bleeding. When did this… happen?

~~~~~~~~

Shuuji stood over the toilet. His face contorted with delight when he saw there was nothing left in his stomach. Maybe he’d finally be the way he was before, skin hanging off of bones, the way he was meant to be. He pulled out the scale, stepping on it.

….Not low enough.

He reached for the cabinet, grabbing a blade and rolling up his sleeve. He began his punishment ritual, exposing fat and fascia that wasn’t supposed to see the light of day. They deemed it “good enough” once blood covered the bathroom floor and seeped into the cracks of the tile. He cleaned up the best he could, wrapping his arm with bandages that he knew wouldn’t last very long. He got to work scrubbing the floor, the coagulated blood soaking into his pants and making his knees sticky. It was gross, making them nauseous all over again. 

His body trembled from the blood loss, sitting down on the floor next to the toilet. At least the job was done. He did what he was meant to.

Chapter Text

“Yosano, can I ask you something?”

Atsushi stood in the medical room, the scent of cleaning products filling his senses as he looked for the woman he was meaning to talk to. He was told she was supposed to be in here, and he needed to know if his mentor was okay.

“What is it, Atsushi?” The doctor replied, rolling away from the desk she was sitting at.

He took a deep breath before answering. “I’m… worried about Dazai. Do you know anything about why he could be acting so… weird?”

She paused, turning her head away. “I knew this question would come eventually. It’s difficult to answer, as I’m not quite sure myself. I’ve noticed some behaviors and marks on his body during examinations that could point to something, though.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I shouldn’t talk about my patients when they aren't present, Atsushi.” She smiled playfully at him. “However, I see you’re really worried about him. I’ll answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

“Thank you so much! So… What kind of behaviors? What’s so different?”

“Well, you know how he’s usually very… obnoxious?”

“Yes, he’s always loud in the office.”

“He’s never like that in here. He almost looks scared, especially with needles. I think they freak him out.”

“Alright… That doesn’t really explain anything, though.”

“I’m not done yet.” She flicked his forehead, grinning. “Be patient.”

“Owww!”

“I’ve also noticed that he tends to not remember his visits. He’ll often come in the next day asking if it's time, and is confused when I say it had already happened.”

“Really? I never noticed.”

“He tends to keep that under wraps. I think he’s embarrassed about forgetting, which is completely normal to feel.” She sighed, staring at the floor. “There are still… concerns I have with other things, though.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you’ve seen the man. He’s not exactly the most… healthy looking. I diagnosed him with anorexia when he first came into the office. It was terrifying seeing him for the first time, and having to help him get back to any sense of ‘health’ was a battle for the ages.”

Atsushi wasn’t shocked, but he still was taken a bit aback. It was always odd to think of the man he looked up to dealing with issues so severe. He’d always seen the man as practically immortal. No ability could touch him, and he always found his way out of any danger.

“He also…” She lowered her voice out of caution. “He has a lot of scars, which should come to no surprise, but many are in the shapes of crosses. Every time I’ve asked he seems to notice them for the first time, even when I’ve pointed the same scar out before.”

“Oh… Wait, why would he have that?”

“It’s rude to speculate, but do you know how… cult-like this recent case is?”

“Yes, it’s horrifying- wait, you don’t think-!”

“I do.” She turned her eyes to the floor again. “God, the poor thing… I have no proof, of course, but given how violent of a reaction to this case he’s having, I wouldn’t doubt that he’s been in a cult.”

“That’s terrible!” His chest weighed a bit heavy, how could he not have noticed? It seemed so obvious now. 

“I don’t think he remembers it, though. It’s incredibly likely he has dissociative identity disorder.”

“What is that?”

“It’s where a child goes through repeated and intense trauma, and their brain fractures into different identities and personalities in order to cope with it. It’s not uncommon for children who grew up in cults to develop this condition, as the stress they go through is intense enough to send an adult into losing their mind.”

“So… he likely has different people in his head?”

“I can’t say for sure.” She sighed, standing up. “I don’t have any documentation, and I highly doubt he’d willingly do a test for it. It’s a very covert illness, often times the person who has the disorder doesn’t even know.”

“Huh…”

“Now, it’s time for us to both get back to work.” She ruffled his hair, smiling. “It’s sweet that you care so much about Dazai.”

“Of course I do, he’s taken care of me since the beginning. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s very kind of you, Atsushi. Now, run along and get back to your desk before we get in trouble.”

“Y-Yes ma’am!” He bowed to her. “Thank you so much!”

Yosano waved at him as he left, going back to her desk. The files of the case were open. She was told to look through the bodies that had been left at the scenes and figure out all that was happening medically. She was supposed to receive them for autopsy soon as well, but it was going incredibly slow.

She went to the main room, printing out the photos of the bodies and bringing them back to her office. Despite being a medical professional, these made her squeamish. Her skin crawled every time she looked at the poor girl's bodies, desecrated and destroyed. It was disgusting, but it was her job to push through and find clues. She took a pen, circling the incision on both of their bodies as well as the heart. She counted every visible gash, noting every horrific action taken to these girls. Her hands shook. 

She took her files out to the meeting room, presenting them to Ranpo. “It seems that these gashes were made with a 6-inch blade. It’s clearly ritualistic. The heart seems practically untouched.”

“What do you think they’re using the heart for?”

“Likely an offering of some kind. Given the crosses, I do believe this is some fucked up version of christianity. I took a look at churches nearby and I noticed one that has very little information on it.”

“Well, what’s it called?”

“The Heart of Christ.” She inhaled slowly. “They present themselves as Baptist. Their website is old and likely outdated, but it did give me some basic information I think could be useful. I wrote it down here.” She tapped the sheet of paper in front of her. “I think that’s the best place to begin searching.”

“Alright, I’ll take a look. Thank you, Yosano.”

“No problem.”

Chapter Text

Gentleness.

It was something Dazai craved so very dearly. The touch of a hand running through his hair, a tight embrace, maybe even a kiss to his forehead. He wanted nothing more than to be held in another's arms. 

Of course, this was a foreign feeling to him. He rarely let others touch him, let alone hold him. He viewed himself as a cactus, his sharp spikes piercing the flesh of those who got too close. It had been proven over and over again. Those he thought  would stay always vanished the second he had nothing left to give. 

It was exhausting.

He sat at his desk, pondering this as he worked. He was losing it. The past few days had been a blur of movement and words he couldn’t make out. It was almost as if he had no control of his body, living on autopilot instead of being present. Today was no different. His thoughts circled in his head mindlessly as he typed out half-assed reports. He wanted to go home early.

“We have updates.”

Ranpo entered the room, holding a stack of polaroid photos and documents. “We found these at the new scene.”

…New scene? Wasn’t there just the two?

“All of them are… distressing. Torture is the only word to describe this.”

“Really? Let me see.” Dazai made his way over to Ranpo, taking the photos before the man could protest. He glanced through them, his stomach sinking as he processed what was happening.

The first two photos were of the girl in the warehouse. She was alive, though barely. Her face was caked with blood and she sat tied up with a dog bowl full of vomit in front of her. Tears were streaming down her face, and she looked terrified. The next group of photos were of her murder. Gloved hands working their way through her organs to rip out her heart, knives and other instruments scattered around. It made him sick.

The final photo was a much older photo. There was a young boy with dark, brown hair standing next to a woman. She had matching brown hair and an incredibly kind face. Maybe she was the boy’s mother?

Kunikida strolled up next to Dazai to take a look, his eyes widening before ripping the final photo away from the brunette. He walked over to Ranpo, whispering something in the man’s ear before leaving the agency.

“Wait-!” Dazai stood to stop the man, but Ranpo shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Kunikida will handle it. Sit back down.” The detective was oddly demanding of Dazai, almost hissing the words. 

There was a moment of silence before the brunette piped up. “God, why have you been so secretive lately?”

“None of your concern. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I think I deserve at least something !” He shouted, slamming his hands on the desk. “All you guys have done is hidden shit from me this entire case! What am I supposed to do when I don’t have most of the details!?” 

“Look at what this case is doing to you, Osamu.”

“ Don’t use my first name.”

“Whatever. The point still stands. You look terrible right now.”

“Yeah, because I can’t do my job properly! You hide things from me and just expect me to be okay with that? Really?”

“Stop shouting. We have done it for a reason.”

“And what is that, huh?”

The room went silent, tension hanging in the air while everyone in the room stared at the two men. They’d never seen Dazai or Ranpo explode like this. It was terrifying to watch.

Ranpo inhaled deeply. “This conversation is over. Go step outside.”

“No, I wo-”

“I told you to step outside!” He screamed, his face red.

Dazai froze, every single muscle tensing. His body moved automatically to the door, walking out all the way to the first floor. He found Kunikida there.

“Kunikida?”

“What is it, Dazai?”

“Can I… see that photo again?”

“......” The man looked between Dazai and the photo. “Fine, but don’t tell Ranpo.”

“Thank you.” He took the photo into his hands, taking in every detail. The boy looked so familiar, but he couldn't tell what exactly it was. Despite seeming happy, the boy appeared unwell, with sunken cheekbones and deep eyebags. Something was off about this boy.

Then it hit him.

The boy was him.

He threw the photo on the ground, feeling his mind spiraling. He hadn’t even processed his nausea until he was rushing to the trash can to throw up, Kunikida yelling out his name faintly. He didn’t know where that photo was from, nor why he was in there. Why was that photo in this case?

Tears were streaming down his face as he took another look. That woman… He knew her, too. Memories flashed through his head, disappearing as soon as they came, floating through his vision like parasites. He couldn’t tell what any of them were, but he knew they were something bad. 

That woman.

His body shook as her image flew through his mind, finding its way into fragments of memories. God, he just wanted his head to be silent. He felt as if his skull was ripping apart, crying out in pain while he sobbed

And then—

A hand on his back made him jump, turning to stare at the unknown entity.

Oh.

It was just Kunikida.

“Dazai?” The blond knelt down next to him, his hand never leaving the small of his back. “I’m here.”

“Kunikida…” 

His mind went silent for a moment, staring at the man. Tears still streamed down his face, snot running. He looked ugly, but the blond didn’t care. This was his friend, after all. 

He helped Dazai stand up before enveloping him into a tight hug.

“I can’t imagine what’s happening, but I’ll be here for you.”

Dazai was shocked, unsure what to do or where to put his hands. After a few moments he slowly wrapped his arms around the other before burying his head into the man’s shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a true hug.

It was so gentle.

Chapter Text

Dazai and Kunikida made their way back to the agency, both men deciding to take the stairs. Kunikida kept a watchful eye on Dazai, making sure he was still relatively okay. The brunette’s thoughts were still racing, but had calmed down to a manageable place. One thought still ran through his mind.

How did Ranpo know?

Not only that, why didn’t he tell him?

These questions swam through his mind as he climbed, finally coming to the door of the Detective Agency. He sighed loudly and looked at Kunikida. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The man smiled at him. A rare sight.

Dazai grabbed the handle and opened the door, Atsushi greeting him almost immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He ruffled the younger’s hair. “Don’t you worry.”

Ranpo sat at his desk as per usual, his face poorly masking the concern he felt. “You saw the photo, didn’t you?”

Dazai nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I did.” He glanced at Kunikida. “We have a whole lot more to find out now.”

“We can take care of it. You don’t need to be a part of it.”

“No. I want to know what all of this is. I need to know why that photo exists and where it comes from.” He narrowed his eyes at Ranpo, almost challenging the detective.

“...Fine. I claim no responsibility, though.”

“Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~

Shuuji watched the scene, seeing Dazai talking to Ranpo. All of this was wrong. He shouldn’t have seen that photo, this case was never supposed to happen in the first place. Whoever was doing this kept slipping up. It never used to be this way.

The boy left his spot, going back into the dark void he’d first emerged from. He was supposed to be the only one. Jealousy seeped through his veins as he traversed the emptiness. Why was it that Dazai had all of this? He had friends, a family in the agency, even a boyfriend. Why couldn’t Shuuji have that? Everything had been fine beforehand.

Well– Until the incident, that is.

He sighed loudly. He didn’t understand why that part of his life played on repeat in his head. He did what he was told, after all. He was obedient. Almost like a dog. He did what was asked, fetched what was needed, sat like a good dog and didn’t speak until told to. Yet ever since then, he’d find himself thrown into this void. A deep, dark pit that took ages for him to learn how to navigate. 

He had nothing to do here, simply watch Dazai’s life from the sidelines and try his best not to go mad. They tried their best to find something to entertain himself, eventually just leaving himself to kick his feet and twiddle his thumbs. He found himself incredibly frustrated with how boring their life had become.

Occasionally, they’d feel themself ripped into Dazai’s place, finding himself in control of their own body again. It was odd when this happened, but never unwelcome. He’d missed his physical form. Plus, he was able to live again. There were things to do.

There were others with him, too. He never really ran into them much, but there were two other entities he would see. One was a girl, she seemed to be almost a caretaker of sorts. She was often seen with the other, a little kid. He would often cry and scream and make a huge fuss over nothing in particular. The girl would comfort the kid, promising him false niceties. It was exhausting to listen to. The whining and sobbing irked Shuuji, practically driving him mad. 

They took a deep breath, tuning out the noises before going back to watch Dazai’s life from the sidelines.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dazai was off on a mission unrelated to the case. Well, it was semi-related. He had to go talk to the Port Mafia, seeing if any of its members had any clues. He didn’t mind much, despite his past. It gave him the chance to see Chuuya. Despite their little rivalry, no person could doubt the strength of their powers when combined. Both men were incredibly smart and strong, and with Chuuya’s gravity manipulation powers, no enemy could possibly come out on top. If worse came to worse, the two of them could easily take down this cult Dazai was investigating. 

He took a deep inhale as he walked up to the front doors of the Port Mafia building, allowing himself to feel everything from his past quickly before letting it pass, exhaling. He opened the doors.

“Dazai! So good to see you.”

A man with black hair greeted him. It was Mori, the head of the Port Mafia. Dazai sighed loudly.

“Hello, Mori.”

“And how have you been?”

“Now is no time for pleasantries.” Dazai pushed past the man, making his way to the meeting room where the other executives were located. He took his place next to Chuuya and Hirotsu.

“Where should we begin?”

Chapter Text

“So. Let me get this straight. There’s a cult that’s been brutally murdering it’s members and you can’t figure out who’s behind it?”

“Exactly.” Dazai crossed his arms. “It’s quite a pain.”

“And what does that have to do with us?” Mori folded his hands, sternly staring into the other man’s eyes. It was uncomfortable at best.

“You have one of the most influential organizations in Yokohama. Not only could this cult hurt the Agency, but it could spread its way into the Port Mafia.” He sighed. “As much as we hate to ask for help from the likes of you, the President feels its the only way to get through this mess.”

“And how exactly do you think we’d be of help?” Kouyou chimed in, sounding slightly bored. 

“As I said before, this is an incredibly powerful organization with ties to the entirety of Yokohama. We’d be remiss to not ask for your help dealing with a… problem of this size.”

Mori nodded. “It’s a shame to dip our toes into something so… vile. However, if the safety of my members is on the line, I suppose it would be best to do something about it.”

“There we go!” Dazai finally smiled. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, let’s talk strategy.

~~~~~~~~~

“Dazai!”

A familiar voice called out to the man, pulling him out of his head. 

“Ah, Chuuya.”

“What, no dog jokes? Something must be really wrong.” The ginger joked, slapping Dazai on the back. “How do you think the meeting went?”

“Fine. I’m glad Mori’s allowing the Port Mafia to get involved. We need all the help we can get.”

“Uh huh…” Chuuya looked Dazai up and down. “You don’t look so hot.”

“How rude.” He responded flatly, his usual giggly demeanour completely lost.

The smaller simply rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t completely conceal the concern that flashed through them. 

“Can I crash at your place tonight?”

It was an odd question. Dazai never, ever asked to stay at Chuuya’s, in fact, it was a chore to get the man to stay anywhere other than his dirty, run down dorm. Something was definitely up, and Chuuya would be damned if he didn’t get to the bottom of it.

“Yeah, you can stay. Any particular reason?”

He was met with a shrug. He decided not to push it, walking next to Dazai in silence. Maybe he was just having a bad day. 

Maybe it wasn’t that serious.

~~~~~~~~~

They finally made it back to Chuuya’s house, Dazai flopping on the couch as soon as they stepped inside. Normally, the ginger would chastise him for being rude, but he didn’t care. He was so hungry after working all day.

“Hey, mackerel. I’m ordering dinner. What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything~!” Dazai responded, plastering his typical grin on his face.

“Uh huh. And when’s the last time you ate?”

The brunette paused a moment before responding. “This morning?”

“Bullshit.” Chuuya sat down next to him. “You thought I wouldn’t notice, huh.”

“Notice what?”

“That you’re thin again. Dangerously thin.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice changed, becoming much darker. “You’re such a stupid slug.”

“Oh, quit the shit. We’ve been through this before. If you’re not gonna eat, i’ll make you a protein shake. I have plenty.”

“I don’t want one!” He hissed, turning away.

“Come on, don’t be stubborn-” Chuuya pulled the man back to face him. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not… yourself. You’re acting like you did when you were a teen, and it’s scaring me.”

“It’s none of your business, slug.”

“It sure as hell is my business! God, you’re rotting away!”

“Rotting, huh?” Dazai laughed a little bit. “What an odd way to describe it.”

“How else am I supposed to?” The ginger sighed. “You know what, we’re not talking about this anymore. If you’re staying in my house, you’re eating something.”

There was silence for a moment, the tension between the two filling the air before Dazai let out a long sigh. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He went to the kitchen, pulling out a protein shake from the fridge and throwing it over to the man. “It wasn’t that hard, now was it?”

“Don’t be smug.” Dazai replied, cracking open the shake and taking a cautious sip. It tasted like chalk. Vanilla was never his favorite, in fact, he didn’t like any flavor of these stupid things. They left a gross film in his mouth and he couldn’t get the taste out for hours. He closed it and placed it on the table in front of him.

“You have to finish that, you know.”

“No thank you.” He stuck his nose up. “It’s gross.”

“You made your decision, Dazai. Unless you want me to order takeout?”

“Nooooo!” He whined. “No take out.”

“God, you’re acting like a child.”

“If slug’s just gonna be mean, I’ll leave.” He pouted. 

“No, I already figured out the rest of the night. You leaving would screw it up.” Chuuya loved having things planned out in advance, and it pissed him off when they went askew. 

“Fine, I’ll drink your stupid shake.” Dazai took another sip, making a face as the chalky consistency slid down his throat. 

Chuuya sat next to him on the couch, turning on the television and flipping through the channels. He settled on a nature documentary. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, but it was something to use as background noise while he ordered takeout and, eventually, cater to Dazai’s needs. That’s how these nights tended to go, after all. Dazai would stay the night and get a little extra TLC from the ginger. He would never admit he needed the care, but the way he would melt into Chuuya at the slightest touch was telling enough that he needed the extra love.

“Chuuyaaaa, this is so boring!”

“Too bad. I’d let you change the channel if you had ever learned how to properly use the remote.” He shot the other a grin, the kind that drove Dazai insane. 

Sure,  the two were never officially dating, but there was a bond that ran so inexplicably deep between the two. Even their abilities were compatible. Despite how much the two fought and picked on each other, there was no doubt they were meant for each other.

They’d also shared a couple of kisses, but hey, no need to judge.

Chuuya had pulled out his phone, beginning to order takeout. It wasn’t anything fancy. He ordered some Chinese food, adding an extra egg roll for Dazai, just in case.

Dazai let out a long sigh, flopping his head onto Chuuya’s shoulder. “I’m so tireddd!”

“Then go to sleep, idiot.” Chuuya faked exasperation. He knew the other likely hadn’t slept in days, so, of course, he really did want the man to sleep. He cared, after all.

“I don’t wanna!” He pouted, shaking his head.

“Come on, Dazai. You know you need the rest.” Chuuya pulled the man into his lap. “Will you tell me about what’s happening? Why you’re… spiraling again.”

Dazai looked up at the ginger. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Well… No. Not really.” Chuuya sighed before answering. “You’ve dealt with cases even worse than this before, so… What’s so different about this one?”

The other went silent, looking away. “I… Don’t know.”

“Be honest with me.” His tone softened. “There has to be something. ”

“Honestly, Chuuya. I don’t know.” He played with the bandages on his arms. “It’s so weird. I… It all feels so familiar.”

“Familiar? How so?”

“That’s the issue. I don’t know why or how. It’s just… an odd sense of deja vu.” He kept picking and scratching at his arms, a wound he forgot about reopening. Chuuya noticed almost immediately.

“Shit, Dazai, you’re bleeding.”

“Hm-? Ah, I guess I am.”

“Let me fix that up for you.” Chuuya gently moved the man off of his lap, going to grab a first aid kit from the bathroom.

Dazai sighed loudly. The slug was always concerned about him.

“Give me your arm.” He said after he returned with the first aid kit. Dazai obliged, holding out his arm. The shorter began unwrapping the bandages, not expecting the bloodbath he was about to see.

“Holy shit, Dazai…” He gasped lightly, barely registered by the other. His flesh was marred beyond recognition. He was used to seeing Dazai’s scars and, occasionally, some fresher wounds, but nothing to this degree. The fat beneath his skin had been exposed, some even down to the fascia. Chuuya didn’t even realize he’d stopped in his tracks until blood started to drip onto the floor.

“Please, don’t question it. Just…”

“I won’t shame you or anything but… Dazai, you need help.”

“No. No, I do not.” He hissed. “I don’t need shit.”

“These could have killed you- they still could!”

“I don’t even remember making them!”

“Listen. If… If this is how you’re going to deal with your emotions, you need to be in a safe place. You’re staying with me. No fighting on it.”

Dazai laughed dryly. “Really? You’d put up with all of my shit? I highly doubt that.”

“I don’t care what you think, you need someone to keep an eye on you! What, would you rather Kunikida do it?”

“...No.”

“Then trust me, Dazai. You’re in good hands. I promise.”

“It’s hard to trust anything anymore. I can’t even trust myself.” He looked away, tears almost daring to spill over. Chuuya finished wrapping his arms in bandages before pulling the man into a hug. 

“I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

And Dazai did what he’s been doing far too often lately. 

He cried until there was nothing left.