Chapter Text
It was ironic that the first letter he decided to pen was to the man he despised with every core of his being.
That was a lie.
He wouldn’t dwell on it.
That was a lie as well.
-.. . .- - ....
To Osamu Dazai. (You do not deserve to be referred to as ‘Dear.’)
I do not forgive you.
If you are reading this then it is plausible to assume that I have passed away. I would like to emphasize the fact that you are not the sole recipient of one of my letters, so do not think that you are special. Although, something tells me that you would not think of yourself as such, anyway. I have compiled a list of things to do with people I deem worthy and, due to not wanting to get near you, a letter detailing my feelings will suffice.
I must admit, writing in such a way that all my thoughts are transferred onto paper is fairly jarring. I have never done such a thing before and it makes me feel uncomfortably vulnerable yet oddly free.
In any case, I have a multitude of things to let you know.
Firstly, as I said before, I do not forgive you.
After mulling it over greatly, I now realize the extent of the mental scars you caused me. I was in denial for a long time, I will admit it was quite a silly thing to do. Those endless training sessions where I left bruised and bloody, days where I could not even move, times where I felt like curling up and dying. It feels childish to underline my words like such but if I invoke even a tinge of guilt in your emotionless character through this emphasis, I will be satisfied.
I will add that I do not intend to seek your pity or even your sympathy. My selfish desire is that you go through turmoil over your actions, although I suspect that such an occurrence will never happen. You are, after all, almost like an alien from another universe, not knowing how humans function and mimicking them horribly. I do not know your past nor do I care to know, all that I am aware of is the hurt you caused me.
And yet, in a sick way, I am grateful. You were my entrance into the world of even more bloodshed than I could have ever imagined. The treacherous path of a mafioso, you guided me, even if your methods were not suitable. Do not misunderstand, I understand that it was necessary for my growth and survival, but the fact remains that the mental anguish you unleashed upon me was not warranted. Talking to me as if I was merely a stain of something unpleasant, treating me like a dog. Although, in retrospect I suppose that I did indeed act the part. Begging for scraps of your approval, trying my hardest just to come crawling back after you refused to give me what I wanted.
I digress, those are not fond memories.
I do not forgive you.
If you ever do come to understand human emotions, I will let this hang on your conscience. I will not bid you well, either, for I do not believe that you deserve it.
All I ask is that you never walk the path of darkness again.
I would love to say that I hate you with every fiber of my being, that I detest your very face. I told myself that I would not lie for once in my life so, although the latter part is true, some part of me worries. Perhaps it is due to those late nights I saw you staring out of the windows with blank eyes, your gaze traveling down to the ground, measuring if you would die if you jumped. Perhaps it is simply because, despite all the issues you caused me, at the end of the day, you were still my mentor.
Ironically enough, you were the one who taught me how to write. While you personally only arrived once in a while to check in on my lessons with someone you hired, it was still you who thought it as a concern. It may have just been to make me more useful for the Mafia, or something else. Those times were confusing.
Those times you took me out to eat in restaurants that seemed straight out of storybooks for me are still ingrained in my memory. The time you coerced me into drinking and I ended up collapsing after less than half a cup, at which point you realized that you had ordered a type of alcohol that was far too potent for first-timers. I remember that, despite your grumbling, you still made sure that I got back home safely. You could’ve simply left me there in that dingy tavern but you didn’t.
I believe that this is where my conflicted feelings stem from.
The way you presented a lack of care towards me was something I expected, something I got used to. I understood that you simply saw me as an inconvenience. I was still baffled whenever you punished me out of your whims and whenever you didn't give me clear instructions and then got mad at me for pointing our your faults. It scared me, truly, when you pulled out your gun, It had terrified me when you had brought scissors with you to training for the first time, I could barely move when you cut my bangs off. It terrified me, but not anymore.
Yet, that only begged the question. If you truly did hate me, or simply had no care for me;
Why did you help me pick out gifts for Gin, then? Why did you tag along? Were you truly just bored? After you had beaten me black and blue the previous day? Did it not irk you in any way that I walked with a limp due to your actions while you dragged me around the mall to look at every item from every store? Did you not feel any ounce of guilt when I doubled down coughing?
I saw your expression as I keeled on the ground.
I saw nothing in it. No hint of irritation, no sympathy, nothing.
Osamu Dazai, you are a mysterious man.
I have countless questions to ask you but I will never. I will never give you closure. I will haunt your mind, even once, or if, you become a good man.
That day, I saw how you stared at the windows of the food court that you eventually pulled me to so I could sit down somewhere. I saw how you looked blankly over at the cityscape, how your eyes once again traveled down to the ground. Was that why I had felt guilt, back then? Why I, the one who had been pushed past his limits due to your negligence, felt bad for agreeing to let you come? Not irritation, not anger at your interference, not even any sense of negative emotions were harbored towards you in that moment.
In that moment, instead of the annoyance and frankly, fear that had clung to me all day in your presence, I felt pity.
Pity that you lived in this world.
I was an incredibly idiotic child.
It is unfair to pity you, though, for even if your past was troubled, I do not care. I do not care about you, I do not care about your life, I do not care about your ventures.
All I ask, yet again, is that you never return to the path you once walked. Do not cause the same suffering you did to me again. Be a better person. I am aware that currently, you are acting as a mentor for the Weretiger. You are doing considerably better than you did with me. While I did feel jealousy at first, I do not particularly care anymore.
I know that your demonic nature still holds deep roots in your heart, so I must reiterate, do NOT walk the path of darkness again.
For a while, I did not think I cared about anyone else, but the simple thought of your monstrous character being unleashed to the world? It, admittedly, sends chills down my spine.
So, I leave my last words to you forever.
Osamu Dazai, you are a despicable man.
Osamu Dazai, live.
Live for as long as possible.
I am in no position to advise you, frankly my words are hypocritcal. Yet I cannot help it. I speak to you not as your ex-mentee, but as a fellow human.
Do not let the hurt child inside you control your actions.
Live.
Do not give up.
Live, for some people do not have that luxury.
Goodbye, forever.
PS: You are not allowed to visit my grave, if I get one that is. The Weretiger is not either.
—Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
-.. . .- - ....
Ryuunosuke leaned back on his desk, staring at the multiple paged letter he had just written. It contained his feelings, his true feelings. It was fairly tiring to do.
He did not often use his desk, he was rarely home to try and write something, after all. Perhaps that was why he had gotten so angry at the words of that man all those years ago. How amusing.
His gaze traveled over to his window, the drawn curtains revealing the commencing sunset. Eyes softening, he slowly got up to open the curtains even further but after one step, doubled down. Coughs racked through his body and at that moment, he felt like he would rather die than feel this a second longer. His lungs burned and every breath was absolute agony, even something as simple as attempting to get up was met with pain shooting up his body, it felt almost as if acid was coursing through his veins.
How funny would it be if his conditions worsened and he passed away before he could finish everything he wanted?
Life despised him, perhaps it would play such a trick as well.
A small tired smile graced his lips again as he looked at his hands.
Blood covered them from his previous coughs.
How hilarious.
Vaguely, he heard knocks on the door, most likely Gin who had heard his quite loud fall to the ground. Almost as if on autopilot, he assured her through the door that he was alright and, after some convincing, she left.
Haaah.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was a coward.
He truly wanted this month to end quickly.