Dazai And Oda 1

"Ranpo-san, It's been exactly 9 hours, 55 minutes and 58 seconds since Atsushi-kun went missing. Don't you think we need to do something to find him now?" asked Dazai with a worried voice.

"We don't need to find him, I already know where he is." answered Ranpo with assurance.

"Then can you tell me where he is?" Dazai asked once again, looking at Ranpo with a pleading eyes.

"Why are you being so impatient, Dazai? I know you have an idea where Atsushi-kun is, yet you're still asking me where he is right now because you want me to find and tell you who's the person who brought him there, am I right?"

Dazai's expression changed. He got more serious and stern.

"It's dangerous to send Atsush-kun there. If something wrong happened and that world collapsed, then Atsushi.. Atsushi-kun won't be able to come back here again."

Based on Dazai's expression, it's obvious that he's really worried about Atsushi. A fear is also noticeable in his eyes. It was visible and Dazai didn't have any plan to hide or conceal it.

He's scared that he would lose another friend again. He doesn't want to lose someone important to him for the second time. Not wanting to lose a friend they cared the most is part of a human nature after all.

"That won't happen, Dazai. You should trust Atsushi-kun because he trusts you more than anyone else in this agency.. You're the one who made that world after all, aren't you?"

Dazai remained silent. He didn't speak or confirm the last sentence that Ranpo said. Not that he needs to confirm it anyways.

Few minutes have passed and none of them speak again. Kenji arrived, giving both of them sandwiches. They said thank you to Kenji and ate their sandwich silently. 

##

flashback~

Dazai was sitting at the counter, playing with a glass using his fingers. He had spent half of his time at the bar. He orders a drink but doesn't touch it. He just stares at the glass solemnly.

At the same time, a man just arrived. Dazai looks at the man and waves towards him happily. The man waved back in return and sat beside Dazai. The bartender doesn't ask any word and just places the usual glass of alcoholic beverage before the man who just came.

"What are you doing?" the man asked Dazai. Dazai looked at him before answering.

"I'm just thinking about some philosophical questions," he replied.

"What kind of questions?"

Dazai paused for a moment. Taking a sip on the glass he's holding before he replied,

"Success is harder than failure for many things in this world, right?" Dazai asked.

"That's right," the man beside him replied.

"That means I shouldn't place suicide as my goal, but rather, attempt a suicide! It may be harder to succeed at suicide, but to fail at attempted suicide should be easier! Am I right or not?" asked Dazai, sounding silly.

The man stared at his own drink for a while.

"You have a point." he answered.

"Exactly! I found it! Let's test it out— boss, is there any laundry detergent on the menu?" Dazai questioned the bartender in front of them.

"There isn't," the bartender replied as he wiped the glasses he's holding.

"What about carbonate laundry detergent?" Dazai, once again asked. He's so excited to try another attempt suicide.

"There isn't."

"To think there isn't…"

"Then there's nothing we can do about it,"

The man beside Dazai nodded. After a few minutes of looking and studying the familiar surroundings, he took a sip of his drink and asked Dazai another question.

"Seeing that you're pondering such philosophical things, could it be that you failed your mission?" the man asked.

"You got that right. It's not just any failure, but an utter failure!" Dazai said as he pursed his lips.

"We were luring the enemy to fight. Everything started because we got hold of information about a bunch of foolish idiots planning to destroy and steal some shipments of illegal goods. The nerve, stealing our livelihood, these people must be tired of living. I was lying waiting eagerly, wondering what kind of brave soldiers they would be. If we had succeeded, I could have perished magnificently.

Pity that it turned out to be ten or so unremarkable ruffians. The only thing worth noting was that they came with a machine gun on their truck and a bazooka. I was really disappointed. Once we had them surrounded in our trap, those losers ran off crying. It's all their fault, I didn't manage to die. How boring."

The man sitting beside Dazai figured as much. He can't imagine Dazai ever failing.

"What group were those guys from?"

"Those energetic guys in our squad caught a few trying to escape and are being held prisoner in the interrogation room. They should be spilling any moment now."

To be unafraid of being punished by the cruel Port Mafia, the other party are indeed brave soldiers. Dazai looks disappointed. But to have prepared a machine gun and a bazooka, they may perhaps be more than a bunch of fools.

Too bad, the one they had to deal with was Dazai.

There is a saying among the Port Mafia: "The biggest misfortune for Dazai's enemies is to have Dazai as their enemy."

If Dazai so wished, he could have a picnic in the middle of a crossfire. He was born to be a mafioso. Afterall, he's the feared youngest underground organization—Port Mafia Executive, Dazai Osamu.

He looks more like a teen carrying the title of "mafia executive". People who don't know any better may laugh and think of it as a joke. However, if they were to see Dazai's records ­stained with blood and darkness, ­they wouldn't be able to laugh any more. Half of the Port Mafia's profits in the past two years can be attributed to Dazai.

The millions these profits amount to and the number of lives lost as a result ­as a trivial member, it is beyond the man's imagination. Of course, glory cannot be attained without a price.

"Your wounds have increased." The man asked as he takes another sip of his drink, pointing to the new bandages on Dazai's body.

"It has indeed increased," Dazai laughed, inspecting his own body. His entire body is littered with the scars of that price.

To put it simply, his whole body has wounds. Dazai's body seems to be perpetually bandaged up. It dawns upon the man that Dazai breathes, exists in a place centered around violence and death.

"How did you hurt your leg?" the man pointed to the bandages, thinking that it must be the result of some violent fight.

"I was reading a book titled 'How to Prevent Accidental Injuries' while walking when I accidentally fell into a ditch." Dazai answered with a weird smile.

The man wasn't expecting such an abnormal response.

"What about the wound on your hand?"

"I was speeding on a mountaintop when I fell into a precipice." Dazai replied.

"Then, the bandage on your forehead is…?"

"I was trying out this suicide method of hitting one's head on the corner of tofu."

"You injured yourself when you hit tofu?" If this was true, Dazai must have a serious lack of calcium.

"For the sake of making super sturdy tofu, I started to formulate a few methods. Using salt to reduce water content, putting a really heavy object inside.. all in my own kitchen. The tofu I make is hard enough to use to hit nails in. I am now more knowledgeable than anyone when it comes to the tofu making process."

When it comes to making tofu amongst the mafia executives, they are very particular about the process. As one of the five mafia executives, Dazai is on a different level altogether.

"So how did that tofu taste?" the man asked.

"The worst part," Dazai's face looks bitter and unwilling, "If you slice it and dip it in soy sauce, it's very delicious."

"To think it was delicious…" the man could help but to hold Dazai in admiration. As a person, it seems like no matter what Dazai does, he always produces outstanding results.

"Let me try it next time."