Chapter Text
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was a coward.
“I apologize but at most, you have a month left.”
Ryuunosuke tuned the doctor’s words out, looking at his hands that were numbly placed on his lap on the sofa he was on. After feeling much worse than usual, he had decided to call over one of the Port Mafia’s private doctors, bracing for the news that he had been expecting all along.
It wasn’t a surprise.
His impending death wasn’t new information.
He knew that he was dying, hell, he was waiting for when all this agony would be over. It was laughable, really, there was once a time where he searched for a reason to live and strictly adhered to it once he found it, but now, he just wanted to rest. His coughs had worsened in the past few months and he could count the amount of times he hadn’t thrown up or coughed out blood every day in the past week on one hand. The back-to-back missions had not helped at all.
“...I shall take my leave now. As usual, I will not inform anyone of this meeting.”
The doctor spoke with a hint of sympathy in his voice but overall, kept it level. Of course, why would he be sympathetic for a mafioso who killed people everyday? In all honesty, Ryuunosuke didn’t need his sympathy, nor the pity that he saw in his eyes before he bowed and took his leave. As much as he’d have liked to slit his throat right then and there for his audacity, it would have been a pain to clean up. Plus, he didn’t know if any other Mafia doctor would keep their mouth shut about their checkups, despite his ego, Ryuunosuke acknowledged that the man who currently personally served him kept his promises.
He was a doctor that a certain ginger executive had pushed the mafioso into hiring after his mentor left the Mafia. Dazai hadn’t allowed him to have any personal doctors, forbidding him from receiving medical treatment after their training sessions unless he was truly on his deathbed. Yet, he felt a sort of freedom and at the same time, emptiness when he could finally have someone to check up on his health. He was directly disobeying his ex-mentor’s words yet oftentimes, he had to remind himself that he despised that guy. His words would not affect him any longer.
In any case, the doctor’s acceptance to keep his mouth shut about the contents of their sessions was a relief.
After all, he couldn’t have Gin know that he was so close to his deathbed
Gin, his little sister, the one person he truly did care about, even if their relationship had become strained after joining the Mafia. It couldn’t be helped, no longer was she the little girl that he wanted to push behind him and protect, she had grown up to be her own person. The least he could do was let her climb out of her cocoon and spread her wings.
She would have to live without him for the majority of her life, after all.
Oftentimes, he felt guilt.
Guilt that he had dragged such a young child into the Mafia, guilt that he couldn’t shield her from this cruel life, guilt that he wasn’t stronger.
Deep down, he knew that inherently, none of this was his fault. Truly, he was just as much as a child as she was, knew only about the darkness that plagued the world and had no reference to know what a better life looked like.
Yet, he didn’t stop blaming himself. It was illogical, he was very well aware, but logic was not something that kept Ryuunosuke standing. His hatred for the world, his rage at the very basis of life itself, his anger towards that man.
Most of all, he detested the way that even after all the things he went through from the hands of that dratted ex-mentor, all the problems he caused, all the misery that clung to him because of that man, even after all of those things, he searched for his approval. It was a hopeless endeavor, part of him wanted to spit in his face at the mere idea of his praise, yet the other part of him, the child that had been beaten down by years of relentless training, hoped for any morsel of attention.
He was weak.
Well, it wouldn’t matter for much longer, he supposed.
An odd sense of calm engulfed him at this thought. After a month, perhaps even sooner, he would be a corpse. A corpse that couldn’t think, a mere body with no thoughts of his own. In truth, he didn’t particularly believe in an afterlife but he guessed that if it did exist, he would be going straight to hell. Sinners like him did not deserve any ounce of relief.
At least, such self-deprecating thoughts would not follow him in his eternal torment.
Once the doctor had left, Ryuunosuke sat for a long while, contemplating his life all the way from when he still resided in the slums, to when he joined the Mafia, and then finally, up to the current moment. The self-reflection was something his past self would have thought as weak, but honestly, in this moment, he couldn’t muster up the strength to, for lack of a better phrase, give a damn. He was going to die anyway.
He was going to die.
He was… Going to be dead.
A bitter chuckle escaped his throat, his legs kicking up onto the sofa before he laid down onto it completely. His left hand went up to brush his hair out of his face and he let it rest on his forehead while more laughs coursed through his body, humorless and without any sort of joy in them. The thought of death, the very thing he had tried to escape all those years back as a mere boy, stalking closer and closer to him without anything he could to stop it… Haaah, truly, it was ironic.
Cruel.
Life was cruel.
Perhaps he could call it karma that he had a lung disease, fating him to die before he even reached his mid twenties, before he even had a chance at life as some people said. He had killed far too many people to delude himself into thinking that he was someone who didn’t deserve such a thing, yet the fact remained that his disease had taken its roots in him due to his residence at the slums as a child. A child that had no awful deeds like he did now. Aside from stealing a couple times out of necessity and the occasional bloodshed when one of the children that he protected was harmed, he held no sins.
It may have been arguable that the things listed above were sins on their own, but who could blame a child that wasn’t even a teen, for trying to survive?
Ryuunosuke acknowledged that this was out of his own bias, a small part of him truly did despise the world for all the unfairness thrown onto him at such a young age, so he never dwelled on these thoughts. It was easier to throw himself into work rather than think about his past, his past did not define him.
And yet it did.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was a coward.
And he would never stop being one.
Even in the face of death, he refused to tell his sister about his short time.
When Gin arrived back home, sensing that someone else had been at the apartment the two shared, Ryuunosuke simply brushed her concerns off, saying that it was Higuchi dropping some things off, before returning back to his room. If Gin harbored any suspicion at all towards this, she didn’t show it and Ryuunosuke was infinitely grateful.
Once alone, his mind started whirring again.
He didn’t want to let anyone know about how much time he had left, especially not the Boss and especially not Gin. She would surely try and get more doctors to treat him which would be an annoyance, as well as completely futile. He had been told that his condition was completely unpredictable, no amount of treatment would suffice if his body decided to act up again. In addition to this, he was also told that if he had indeed gotten treatment earlier, perhaps as soon as he joined the Mafia, there would have been a chance at saving him.
Ryuunosuke pushed these thoughts away.
For now, he had to settle his dues.
Quite some time back, when his mentor hadn’t left
him
the Mafia, Ryuunosuke had gotten some advice from someone who he did not appreciate at all at the time.
“Write your woes down. Write your unfinished business down. Write as if your life depends on it. I do not believe that I can write about living humans while also being a part of bloodshed, but in my own personal opinion, this will help you, despite your actions.”
It had been, ironically, a friend of the man Ryuunosuke hated the most and in extension, he hated him. Of course, his hatred was extended by the fact that the approval and attention he seeked so much was given to this very simple looking man, but he digressed. He hadn’t cared about these words back then, even after he was the one, at a brief moment that his mentor was not there, to hesitantly ask how the man seemed to unbothered all the time. His words were something that he thought to be weak back then, thought them to be melodramatics of an old man.
Young Ryuunosuke had despised him for judging his actions, especially because somewhere inside his heart, he knew that whatever he did was not at all morally reprehensible.
The Ryuunosuke who had might as well been on his deathbed, though, understood.
And so, he took out a piece of paper and a pen, vowing to exit this life without any regrets.
Notes:
Edit: he does tell Gin later if anyone dislikes that (I know I would idk why I wrote this)
i havent re read!!!!!!!!!!
SO I GOT THIS IDEA LITERALLY THIS MORNING AND WENT INSANE WRITING LMAO
i havent gotten this much motivation since writing 'oh there is no real me'also my BSD LIGHT NOVELS + NO LONGER HUMAN THAT I ORDERED ARE HERE!!!!!!!!!! YAYYYYYYY
SPECIAL THANKS TO
THE_LADY_IN_BLACK
FOR BEING SUCH A GREAT COMMENTING PARTNER AJSDLKASJDASD I LOVE THEM SM PLEASE GO CHECK THEM OUT!!!!!!! I LOVE THEM!!!!! THEY WRITE SO AWESOME!!!!our talks about ryuunosuke and dazai deff had some effects here... hehe.....
also i do headcanon aku as religious with religious trauma but i felt like i'd yap WAYYY too hard if i delved into that LMAOAAO
Chapter 2: Osamu Dazai
Summary:
To Osamu Dazai.
I do not forgive you.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
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.
Notes:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWAdHC6_q8E
i have been listening to this cover entire time while writing guys WATCH ALIEN STAGE NOW!!!!! plug in <333AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH ALL MY PENT UP ANGER THAT THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN IN CANON IS NOW HEERE!!!! LMAOAAOAOA
guys i love akutagawa so much........................
also i do headcanon aku as religious with religious trauma but i felt like i'd yap WAYYY too hard if i delved into that LMAOAAOI TRIED TO EMPHASIZE THAT EVEN THO DAZAI MOST LIKELY HELD NO ACTUAL CARE FOR AKU, HE HELD *SOMETHING*
like maybe it was care, maybe it wasnt, he himself did not understand
neither did aku
his actions were confusing, one day he would train him relentlessly, reprimand him for his mistakes, and the next he'd take him out drinking
and at the end of the day, his sucidal tendencies were witnessed by akuALSOALSO i tried to make aku have like.. childish thoughts if that makes sense? like saying 'to' instead of 'dear'
reiterating that dazai is not special to him
forbidding him from his grave
like, hes never had the oppurtunity to vent his thoughts before, so of course the ones from him as a child remain.
PLUS HES 20 HES NOT OLD ASDL;AJSD!!!!!!
Chapter 3: Michizō Tachihara
Summary:
Gin had friends.
Ryuunosuke was well aware.
She was like a magnet to loud and obnoxious people, in any other situation it would actually be laughable to see how quiet she remained with her tablet or a notebook to write her thoughts around one of the most ear-grating people in existence.
…Ryuunosuke wasn’t thinking of someone in particular.
“Yoooo, Big Bro Akutagawa! Why so gloomy?”
…He definitely wasn’t.
Chapter Text
< Twenty Eight Days Left.
Gin had friends.
Ryuunosuke was well aware.
Not simply the members of her squad, the Black Lizard, but she hanged around many other mafiosos, albeit without speaking so as not to reveal her voice and in turn, her gender. She was like a magnet to loud and obnoxious people, in any other situation it would actually be laughable to see how quiet she remained with her tablet or a notebook to write her thoughts around one of the most ear-grating people in existence.
…Ryuunosuke wasn’t thinking of someone in particular.
“Yoooo, Big Bro Akutagawa! Why so gloomy?”
…He definitely wasn’t.
The man looked up from the ground, continuing to lean on the wall he had been all this time to stare sharply at the disturbance from his thoughts.
“Tachihara.” He spoke, his tone curt and absolutely dripping with disdain.
The red haired boy almost jumped at the harshness of his words but regained his composure fairly quickly, a grin still plastered on his face. No one looking at him would even think that he was a high ranked mafioso who had just returned from a particularly bloody mission.
Ryuunosuke resisted the urge to cough, he had been trying to seem indifferent to it all because of Gin, after all.
Speaking of Gin, she was currently holding up her notebook, a message scrawled onto it in a hurry that she was shoving in Tachihara’s face;
/“Leave him alone, Tachihara.”\
“Aww man, but he’s always mean to just me! He talks to that old man- Ow-” He hissed mid-indignant speech, glaring at Gin who had just smacked his shoulder with her notebook. “As I was saying,” he continued, rubbing the place he was hit, “He talks to Hirotsu-san with respect and you’re rarely reprimanded! He’s strict with Big sis but I swear he hates me! He doesn’t even use any honorifics for us, how are you not mad?”
Gin hurriedly shoved her notebook at Tachiara’s face again, glancing at Ryuunosuke with a hint of an apology in her eyes.
/”He is older .”\
“I know he’s older, but he’s–”
Tachihara fell silent for a moment, watching as Gin scribbled something onto her notebook.
/”He is right there, you idiot. Why don’t you tell him?”\
“Oh.”
Apparently, he had completely forgotten that their mission that day was accompanied by the Port Mafia’s dog.
Both Black Lizard members turned in unison to look at Ryuunosuke and almost comically, both of their eyes widened at the same time.
He was... smiling.
Not a forced smile that would’ve made his face morph in grotesquely unfamiliar ways, not a smile that was half-hearted, not a smile that felt wrong to do.
He was smiling genuinely, albeit slightly.
After all, he had decided not to get angry at such trivial things like respect. The other two’s exchange, the way their banter and correcting each other was explained away as them hating the other, yet still acting like old friends, it all, frankly, made Ryuunosuke satisfied.
When he’d be gone, Gin would have someone to lean on.
She was already leaning on others, after all, she didn’t truly need her brother anymore.
Good.
He watched as Tachihara spouted nonsense about his tiny showcase of joy being a miracle and, after leaping through a few hoops of logic, decided that Ryuunosuke was in a good mood and would join the Black Lizard at their drinking party after a successful mission.
He watched as Tachihara’s jaw dropped open when the man actually agreed.
Gin cast a glance full of suspicion and confusion towards him but he ignored it, instead following her obnoxious friend over to a sleek black private car.
-->
Ryuunosuke’s lungs burned.
Well, specifically, it felt like every limb in his body had been cut off, dunked into lava, and then glued back together with acid instead of glue.
He shouldn’t have accepted that drinking invitation.
But he had promised to himself, hadn’t he? That he would push through and try not to upset anyone for his last days, perhaps that would enable him to go through less pain towards the end of his life. He always kept promises so he was in no position to refuse.
Yet, was it worth it?
The night had been an enjoyable one, or at least, the man thought that he had fun. He thought himself incapable of such a thing, or well, undeserving.
Watching the others, mostly Tachihara, drink and tell stories to their heart’s content was amusing. The way that the two siblings exchanged glances everytime the drunk red-head referred to Gin as his ‘best buddy’ and then proclaimed that she was his ‘biggest rival’ in the span of five minutes. It was entertaining how, despite the long amount of time that they had worked together, Tachihara still didn’t know that Gin was a girl, nor that she was Ryuunosuke’s sister.
Ryuunosuke didn’t blame him, of course, he held a sense of pride in how well Gin kept herself hidden. After all, it would spawn problems if she was made to use her body for missions or if someone was to put two and two together and use her as his weakness.
He understood, which is why he hoped that once he was gone, Gin would trust him more. Despite the boy’s obvious inner troubles, he seemed to have morals.
He coughed.
Looking down where he knelt on the floor of his room, his forehead creased as he saw specks of bright red blood.
Shoot.
He had made sure that he would not drink anything more than half a cup that day so as not to aggravate his body more, but it seemed that the mission had done its toll.
Ryuunosuke gritted his teeth, supporting himself with the side post of his bed to get up, ignoring the newly-made stains on the floor and collapsing onto his desk chair.
For a while, he looked up at the ceiling, contemplating if he really wanted to pen this next letter.
…..
He was going to die anyways, why not?
So, deciding to clean his room up later so as not to alarm Gin, he took out a fresh sheet of paper and a pen.
-.. . .- - ....
To Michizō Tachihara. (I believe that we are not close enough to warrant referring to you as ‘Dear,’ as commonly done, but I must add that I do respect you)
If you are reading this, I have most definitely passed away. I will cut straight to the chase. Never once was I a suitable older brother figure to you yet you still insisted on referring to me with a title befitting of one, either due to your youthful whims or because you were projecting.
Apologies, that may have been a bit personal.
You strike me as someone with great self-doubt who attempts to hide his conflicted feelings under the guise of brashness. Not that I think that you are faking your, for the lack of a better word, obnoxious behavior, but it is fairly easy to see that deep down, you have mixed feelings. I will admit that it was not me who noticed these things, but Gin.
If, at this moment, you are wondering why me and Gin have talked enough to share such details, I must confess the truth. To preface this, though, I will say that all of this is with Gin’s consent, for this letter will only make its way to you if Gin sees fit. In her letter, I will leave the choice completely up to her if she would like to send this, cut out some parts, or just burn it.
Yes, her.
Akutagawa Gin is a girl . I must underline it so it gets through your thick head.
She is my younger sister and although we have drifted apart, we remain tied by blood so I will make sure to become a ghost and haunt you if she dies young.
But I digress, she is not a child and does not need protecting.
I am in no position to advise you, we were never close and I will not pretend that we are but as your senior, I feel like it is necessary to do so, lest you lose your mind and cause harm to everyone you know.
You once asked me if I saw you as a mafioso. I doubt you remember, it was a long time ago, back when you were first put into the Black Lizard and, since I was and still am in charge of the guerilla forces, I went to meet you. The first thing that crossed my mind was that you were loud. Yet, your laugh was infectious to those around you, I even saw Hirotsu-san chuckle at your antics. Although he is not an uptight man, that is still fairly rare for him.
I hadn’t known you well back then, either, so when I dragged you out to the balcony after you practically forced everyone to go drinking yet got the most intoxicated yourself, I did not particularly have an answer for your words.
I remember your words clearly, partly because I had not consumed any alcohol and because I simply do not forget my memories easily. A blessing and a curse at times, I suppose, but I am moving out of track.
“Do you think I’m cut out to be a mafioso?”
You asked these words while staring off into the distant sky, your eyes clearly not seeing the cityscape in front of you. It was obvious that you were lost in your thoughts, dark and brooding thoughts that seemed to be plaguing you bit by bit.
I had simply shoved my hands in my pockets, told you that I was leaving, and departed the balcony. Never once did I stop to perhaps ask what was on your mind or even try and stop you from drinking. You were underaged, I was well aware, but at the time such activities were so common to me due to a certain man that I paid it no mind.
I would not stop you from intoxicating yourself if this occurred in the present day, either, but I would have answered you. Most likely, my answer back in the day would have been one of finding your own path or that it was not my business to tell you.
But now, I would say that you are.
Michizo Tachihara, you have earned the right to be called a mafioso. Most, if not all of your missions have finished in success, under your membership the Black Lizard has become the most deadly group in the Port Mafia. I wonder why you ever thought to question yourself but it would be hypocritical of me to say that it was beyond me to understand your woes. Long ago, I was under the impression that I was far too weak to protect what I had to and that I had to endlessly get stronger to earn the right to live.
I was wrong.
I had been strong enough the entire time.
As a side note, change your clothes once in a while. It may sound amusing coming from me, but that jacket you always wear is tacky. Who am I to judge your fashion sense, though.
With that out of the way, I leave you my last words.
Do not give up no matter how unwanted and undeserving of your life you feel. Even if you think that you cannot possibly deserve any joy or possess happiness, you do. I am well aware that we have all committed heinous acts that, aside from eliminating other dangerous targets, have also put innocent civilians in danger. I do not ask you to change your ways, but to embrace your current ones. Do not feel self pity, instead carry your head up high and truly represent the Mafia with all that you have.
I wish you well. While I trust Gin, I worry that she may throw herself into work far too much out of distress. I have no way to know how she may react, of course, she may be relieved, but I ask that you put aside your differences and try not to let her die.
She is not the type to try and end her life, she is resilient and will move on.
You mustn't hinder her.
Goodbye, forever.
—Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
-.. . .- - ....
Ryuunosuke blinked, turning his eyes to the drawn curtains. The sky was a beautiful hue of orange with bits of purple and blue sprinkles in with gradients.
Ah, he wondered if his funeral would be held on a day like this.
Notes:
I AM SLEEEPPPYYYYY yawns
it is 3 am...
ANYWAYS TACHIHARA!!
the next letter is gonna be chuuya but before that there's gonna be some to do list stuff :3i tried to write how conflicted ryuu feels over gin, how he isnt sure if she'd mourn him yet feels protective over her all the same
I blame it all on DAZAI!!!
speaking of dazai.. i keep randomly adding more to his letter XDD
Chapter 4: Chuuya Nakahara
Summary:
To Chuuya Nakahara.
I forgive you.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
< Twenty Days left
..-. --- .-. --. .. ...- . -. . ... ...
Dear To Chuuya Nakahara.
I forgive you.
You may not even remember the context of this message, hence I feel, for the lack of better words, a tad silly. Yet, I remember. I recall that day clearly, I recall your words with utmost clarity.
The day after that man, Osamu Dazai, left the Port Mafia.
I was inconsolable and at the same time, happy. Glad that the monster I called my mentor was gone, upset that I had been abandoned. The dichotomy of the situation is slightly funny in hindsight, you must admit. I am not praised for my sense of humor but with you and frankly, I do not understand the causes for your laughter either. Although, I will say, the times spent with you were not awful, instead it was fairly refreshing to finally be able to speak my mind on most topics. Even with Gin, I cannot relax sometimes. The guilt of bringing her into this dark world still clings to me.
I am getting ahead of myself, my initial words in this letter are the ones that need to be transcribed first, lest I die while writing.
That was a joke and while I am aware that explaining a joke ruins its humor, I believe you may take it badly, so I must clarify.
That night full of tumultuous emotions, you came to me. You came to me and apologized for not trying to help me earlier. Truly then, and to an extent even now, I thought you to be exaggerating your woes. To be honest, I thought that you were mocking me. What help had I needed? Back then I didn’t understand the extent of the scars I was to be forced to live with for the rest of my short life, I was too young. I was only sixteen. I didn’t understand.
Neither did you, I believe.
You apologized for barely trying to lessen my hellish training, only pulling me away when I was on the brink of death. You apologized for that one time during a shared mission, you messed up and I took the blame. That one was particularly enraging, I knew that back then as well. How could you have known that your subordinates blamed it on me, while you were sent to another mission out of the city almost immediately? After your arrival back to Yokohama, you became privy to this blunder fairly quickly and just as fast, tried to correct the wrongful placement of guilt to the wrong recipient, me, back to yourself.
It was too late, however, that man had already given me my punishment. Boss swept it under the rug as well, deciding that the matter was in the past and there were more pressing matters to worry about at the time.
I hated you for that. I hated that you weren’t the boy in the untrue image I had constructed of you in my mind. I suppose that I should explain to you what I mean, to really stress how much I have grown and how my forgiveness is based on logic.
I used to think you were heartless.
When I first met you, it was purely by chance. I was making my back from a particularly grueling training session, during my early days in the Mafia. A limp was prominent, and perhaps that’s what you noticed first.
I remember your words clearly.
“Oi, kid, are you alright?” You had asked, stabling my posture by putting my arm on your shoulder.
I didn’t trust you. I even attempted to use Rashoumon to slice your neck off.
He stopped me. Returning just like me, he grabbed me by the neck at the exact moment I activated my ability. Right before I behaved like the rabid dog I was.
He threw me to the floor, leading to a scuffle between you two. Well, to be specific, you grabbed him by the scruff of his neck while his taunts echoed through the corridor.
You were about to punch him when he reminded you.
Reminded you that he was the executive and you were not.
Reminded you that I was under his supervision.
That I was his dog.
Disgusting.
It was disgusting.
I could tell that you were revolted at this piece of information. Perhaps you had only heard of the stray animal that he picked up from afar, perhaps you never expected it to be a boy who looked to be on death’s door.
Perhaps you never expected that you really had no actual way to retaliate, aside from harming him and facing probation time later.
And so you left.
With a glance back at me almost like you were trying to apologize, you left.
He told me not to interact with you again and dragged me back for another training session, citing that he was getting annoyed.
Back then, I hadn’t realized the words you wanted to tell me. I hadn’t realized the turmoil you must have felt in forcing yourself to walk away. I had thought that you constantly trying to catch up to me was a ploy to get me in trouble, I truly believed that you and that man– well, boy at the time– were close. You were, in a way, but not in any sort of healthy manner.
I thought you were sickening.
That was till he left.
Circling back to my original point, the night when he left was full of highs and lows. I was glad. I felt abandoned. I was laughing hysterically one moment and eerily silent the next.
I was going mad.
And that’s when you came.
You came to settle your sins, to give your side of the story, to try and show that you never held any ill will towards me.
I didn’t believe you. I thought that if you truly felt this way all the time, then you would have done something earlier. Said something. At least helped. (PS: I know that you often helped Gin buy medicine for me. I only found that out later on.)
I refused to respond to you and you didn’t push me any further.
I thought that you had as much freedom as I wanted you to have. It all came down to that idealistic portrait I had of you, the image of the boy who held me in contempt, and I the same. The one with much more freedom and power than me, the one with more respect and friends alike.
The one without my problems. The one without my defects. The one much better than me.
But now I realize, you’re human just like me. You were just a boy back then, also attempting to survive in the Mafia. You were searching for your own purpose, battling against all odds once you actually found it, and staying as loyal as you possibly could, as per your personal code of conduct.
You were just another human being like me. You were just as trapped as me.
It is a tad funny. Soon, I’ll be the free one, how I’ve always wanted to be.
So I leave you with my last words.
Chuuya Nakahara, I forgive you.
I have cherished the past four years we have had together. Our drinking nights, the times I had to carry you back, every time you took me on a shopping spree to buy new clothes that I never wore;
All of them were memorable.
Thank you for making the last few years of a sinful man like me positive enough. My cowardice never deserved you.
Thank you for letting me be ‘Your boy.’
Goodbye, until we meet again in hell.
(PS #2: Do NOT let anyone outside of the Mafia near my grave)
—Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
..-. --- .-. --. .. ...- . -. . ... …
Ah.
His condition was getting worse.
Ryuunosuke glanced at his hand, completely drenched in the blood he had just coughed out. He had managed to avoid spilling any on his desk and hence, on any of the letters he penned.
Thank goodness.
He might’ve actually just died right there if all of his hard work was going to disappear.
Making a mental note to have another check-up with his doctor later, he got up and stumbled over to his bedside table, passing the mirror on the way.
He was deathly pale, more so than usual. His eyes were bloodshot, due to lack of sleep and overexertion of his body.
How funny would it be if his life was shortened even further due to his negligence?
Ryuunosuke sighed, wiping his hand with some tissues that were on his bedside table and then plopping onto his bed, grabbing his phone and opening his notes app.
A bunch of things in a list were written, with some crossed out– Like names of people for writing a letter– yet most were as is. The way they were written would be almost nonsensical to anyone except him and he liked it that way. These notes were only for him, after all.
He scrolled to the very bottom, staring at the newest edition he had added, after a comment from Gin about the topic of the stray cat living outside their house.
–To do: Cats for Gin–
Notes:
This one kinda sucks sorry guys 🙏
i finished bcs of you A_Bouquet_of_Clocks BASHDASHDASDHAS
guys if you want me to write something you literally just need to comment that you want more and I'll most likely not sleep and just write it LMAOOOOOOgonna sleep now,... I'm still sick....
lady in black if you are seeing this,,, this was the outcome of the number you chose hehe
the other one would've had a to do list situation happening first...!!did anyone notice how ryuu refused to use dazai's name except in the start...
Chapter 5: To do : Cats with Gin
Summary:
Happiness and tearful revelations.
Notes:
T.W At the start, there's some smallll graphic descriptions of death/animals and after they get home, there is descriptions of puking and sickness-- so be warned!
if you don't want to read a scene chapter, the next one is a letter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
< 18 days left
—
Ryuunosuke was never a fan of animals.
Back in the slums, the existence of a furry friend was only a hindrance; simply an extra mouth to feed. He had observed many pet owners dying before their animals did, feeding whatever last morsel they had left to the equally skinny creature and passing away with the hope that it wouldn't.
It always died soon after.
Many times had he witnessed owners of cars or dogs eat their pets, so overcome by hunger that they could not hold back any longer. The majority of the time, they died from grief or due to self-inflicted wounds right after.
Ryuunosuke didn't understand. He refused to get attached to any animals, or well, anything in general. The sole exceptions were his sister and the little ragtag group of children in the slums that he protected, but besides that, he made great care to keep his likes and dislikes suspended. Enjoying something meant that he could become susceptible to falling for tricks related to it and having a distaste towards something could cause a subjective feeling to bring an objective loss.
In any case, he was always against any pets. Gin and the other children in the slums had begged him to let them feed stray cats and dogs but he refused every time. Although he had been wary of letting them interact with the flea-infested creatures too, he relented just to see a smile on their faces.
After joining the Mafia, there was yet another obstacle. There was simply no time to take care of a pet at home and despite knowing that Gin would most likely make something work, he was reluctant to allow one. He knew that he shouldn’t police her that much, now that they finally had disposable money, but he simply could not shake the images of rotting animal carcasses besides their equally decomposed owners out of his head.
Keeping Gin away from those scenes was good, he supposed.
But it was different now.
He wasn’t going to be here for much longer. The most he could do was make Gin smile and finally relent to her long-time wish.
Oftentimes when returning from work, stray cats would huddle outside the siblings’ apartment, and, due to Gin’s insistence, the two started to feed them every so often. Due to this, they just kept on returning, bringing over other cats until it became a routine to feed them before and after either one of them returned from work.
They were never let inside the house but just through these gestures, as well as it being clear that Gin enjoyed playing with these strays, Ryuunosuke knew that she wouldn’t object to what he had planned.
After asking Higuchi for help in his plight, he was supplied with a list of many places related to the raising of animals. He hadn’t exactly specified what he wanted to Higuchi so whatever he had gotten, he was grateful for.
The blonde girl’s eyes had widened as Ryuunosuke lightly put his hand on her shoulder and thanked her.
In any case, after some research, he found somewhere that would suffice.
See, he didn’t exactly want to adopt a pet for Gin, he thought that doing such a thing would simply hinder her and burden her. If, in actuality, she actually disliked caring for animals, he would never be able to forgive himself for gifting her a useless weight, even as a dead man. Keeping all of this into account, he decided on a cat cafe.
“Are you sure you’re doing this on your own free will? Higuchi-san didn’t make you?” Asked Gin in a worried voice, trying to read her older brother’s facial expressions while they walked. She was positioned in such a way that a part of her torso was in front of her brother so she could get a clear view up at him.
“Yes.” Replied Ryuunosuke curtly, maintaining a stoic expression and keeping his eyes up ahead. After a few moments of Gin squinting her eyes at him while he was trying to avoid eye contact, though, he added in a quiet voice. “And I thought you’d enjoy it.”
Almost instantly, Gin’s face softened and she turned to look up ahead too while she walked, brushing some of her long hair that had fallen in front of her eyes aside.
A comfortable silence enveloped the two and after a few more minutes of walking, Ryuunosuke spotted the place he had researched.
“...A cat cafe?” Gin muttered in a mix of confusion and awe once she read the sign, yelping when Ryuunosuke grabbed a hold of her shoulders from the back and led her inside.
“Brother– I can walk–”
“I know.” Came the same cool reply as usual.
Gin’s huff of frustration dissipated as soon as she entered.
The coffee had a powerful smell, but the sound of meows was even more intense. Naturally, cats—cute and cuddly furry friends—were their source. Oh Gin was absolutely enamoured immediately, bending down to stroke the fur of the cat that had just rubbed its head against her leg.
“Oh they’re adorable…” She breathed, absolutely in awe with the little furry beings.
“Hello, do you have a reservation?” Chimed in a worker who had approached the two and while Ryuunosuke handled the process of confirming their booking, Gin continued to be bombarded with more and more cats.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryuunosuke watched them and if squinting hard enough, his lips tugged slightly upwards.
.-. .- .-. .. - -.--
The day had gone by quickly– Something Ryuunosuke rarely felt outside of work. Every day was grueling and painful to get through so a change of pace was actually a fair bit jarring, but not perceived negatively by him.
After some nagging by Gin, he had even relented to playing with a few of the cats, completely caught off guard when his sister clicked a few photos of him right when a scrawny cat with black and white fur jumped onto him. Gin had commented that it looked like his twin, and he had let out a disgruntled noise of acknowledgment when she texted it to him.
Gin was beaming the entire way home and contrary to her usual reserved demeanor, was even rambling about the different cats she managed to befriend– Since Ryuunosuke had to step out a couple of times
He had been throwing up blood in the bathroom but after wiping the blood from his lips, he seemed no sicklier than usual upon his return.
The moon peeking through the wide window with the curtains partially drawn was the only source of light in their dimly lit apartment's living room. After Gin closed the door behind them and they both changed into their home slippers, another coughing fit overtook Ryuunosuke.
He barely managed to make it to the spare bathroom before blood started spewing out from his mouth.
The spasms that wracked through his chest were worse than ever before and every time he tried to breathe, a wheeze came out instead, followed by more yellowish-green phlegm mixed with blood to expel out of him. Saliva trickled down his lips and though he tried to wash it away, the simple feeling of cold water touching his face invoked even more nausea.
He felt so cold.
Freezing. He was freezing.
It reminded him of the times back in the slums when the only way to get warmth was to leech it off other people.
Gin was always surprisingly warm.
Her hesitant hand on his shoulder started to bring warmth to his system as well.
“Brother?”
Gin’s voice was quiet, her gaze filled with concern.
It reminded him of when he used to be close to death in the slums, curled up in agony after using his ability to its utmost extent.
“I’m- Fine– Ack-” He wheezed, attempting to take deep, steady breaths, just to fail and have bile creep up his throat again.
The minimal food he had consumed that day had already been puked up yet even now, his stomach churned, ending up mixing stomach acid with blood from who-knows-which part of his body and hurling it out.
Goodness, his throat burned.
Gin remained quiet, and only when she returned did Ryuunosuke realize that she had departed for a few seconds to get a glass of water. He accepted it with a shudder, the coldness of the water seeping into his bones.
He bit down the urge to throw up yet again, not wanting Gin to blame herself.
His younger sister wasn’t to be underestimated, however, and sensing his discomfort in the brief moment he managed to let his poker face fail while looking at her, she took the glass again and placed it on the sink counter. Instead of returning her hand to his shoulder, she instead started rubbing her brother’s back soothingly.
A grim silence followed. Ryuunosuke knew that he had to explain himself to her eventually– she would never just not notice his deteriorating state– but he wasn’t ready.
Thankfully, or not so thankfully, Gin spoke up first.
“How long?” She whispered.
“...Huh..?” Ryuunosuke let out a noise of confusion.
Gin searched for a way to say what was on her mind, her eyes darting from the ground to the door, till she finally trained it on their reflection in the mirror. Perhaps looking at her brother through it was easier, even if his own gaze was trained on the floor.
“How long do you have left? You’re actively dying, right?”
More silence.
Ah. She hit the nail right in the head.
Ryuunosuke sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Haaah… Less than twenty days probably, according to the doctor. But seeing my condition, not long.” He answered with a frown. “I’ll probably be on bedrest soon.”
….
Gin sniffled.
Ryuunosuke eyes flew up and he turned around to come face-to-face with his usual stoic sister– Crying.
Her hands were now being used to try and wipe away her waterfall of tears and though she tried to keep her voice level, it seemed to be impossible with her current state.
Ryuunosuke stared at her dumbfounded. The last time he saw her cry was a long time ago, back when the both were still adjusting in their life in the mafia.
He tried to remember what he used to do…
His brows furrowed, before exiting the bathroom and turning the corner, causing Gin to look after him in confusion.
“It’s.. It’ll be okay..” Came his voice, and right after that, a sort of black puppet creature appeared in the doorway, clothing that he had manipulated in the shape of a cat. “Aiiyaaah, stop crying Gin-chan…” Although it came out a little hoarse, Ryuunosuke tried to change his voice to a higher pitch.
Like he used to do back in the slums.
He hadn’t meant to remember that time of his life this day in such quantity, but he supposed that while nearing the end, people usually reminisce old memories, even if they were not fond.
“Yeaaah, this isn’t super sad… Okay?--” He continued after adding another cloth puppet in the shape of a mouse, this time in a deeper voice. Although broken off a bit by his coughing, this little act of his was ready to carry on.
“Uuuhhh…” Cut him some slack, the guy was running out of ways to comfort his now-grown sister with strategies he used when she could barely even form meaningful memories. “You…”
Gin seemed to notice this as well and after the puppets simply started to aimlessly move around in front of her face, she emerged out of the bathroom and made her way to her older brother.
Ryuunosuke internally sighed in relief when he saw a small smile gracing her face, despite the tears still rolling down her cheeks. Although he thought that she was going to go right up to him and scold him for using such childish tricks, no she wouldn’t, she was better than that, she instead turned at the last moment towards the hallway switches, fiddling with the lights before she turned on the small lamp right above their heads, casting an eerie blue glow onto the two.
“....You really are an idiot.” Came her muffled voice, though Ryuunosuke was unable to see her face as her back was towards him.
Sensing that he should agree, Ryuunosuke nodded.
“...Yes. I am.” He said solemnly.
…This only seemed to upset Gin further, since she followed his words up with a huff.
“You’re– You’re not supposed to agree..!”
“Oh.” Was all he could say. “Sorry..?”
The both knew that he wasn’t great with emotions, but at the same time, the both were aware that he wasn’t a dunce, he had known that the truth would upset his sister and had deliberately kept it from her. Gin must have been angry at him for being purposefully deceptive about this whole situation and he didn’t blame her.
And yet, she didn’t seem angry at all. When she turned around, face illuminated in the cool light, she seemed far more anguished than anything.
She spoke no words as she approached Ryuunosuke and without warning, buried her face into his shoulders. He tried to pull away– he didn’t want her to get any blood and fluids that soiled his clothes to get on her– but she clung onto him for dear life, as if her letting go would make him poof out of existence.
He supposed that she wasn’t wrong for feeling that way.
“My…” She started, before her knees buckled and she sank into the ground, taking Ryuunosuke with her. Both kneeled on the ground, with Gin using one hand to cling onto Ryuunosuke and the other to smack her fist into the ground, her chest heaving in silent sobs.
Her cries had always been quiet. Ryuunosuke had never liked that, he rather have a confirmation that she was alive and healthy enough to cry, than be stuck in worry that she wasn’t.
“My brother is dying, dammit.. I can cry if I... hic… want to...”
Ryuunosuke’s eyes widened for a split-second as she glared up at him tearfully, before he realised his incompetency once more, and gently rubbed her back.
“You’re right. Cry if you damn want to.”
｡
Notes:
omg hi <3333
i know it's been 80 years I'm sorry school is killing me. if you see a bsd fanfic author on the news found dead it was ME (imbeingdramaticimokay)
I have exams next week which is why I guess I suddenly spurred to finish writing
.....i was wondering why I got sudden motivation to write this till I remembered my torso has been killing me the whole day (probably bad posture ?? feels like needles through my chest) and was probably like . lets make akutagawa suffer HAHAHAI also don't know why I made aku hide his illness in the first place at ALL like I HATE THSOE TROPES WHY DID I ADD IT so here we go
double upload because it's my birthday month guys trust (7th November. I'm so sorry I plug my birthday in everywhere)
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/22095854410732988/
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/10273905392701775/
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/94575660914391353/inspo for the puppet part <33 I look at these pins so much siblings my beloved
I'm sorry I suck at writing fluff I had to end the cat cat cafe part at a timeskip..
Chapter 6: Atsushi Nakajima
Summary:
How unexpected.
Notes:
DOUBLE UPLOADDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
someone tell me if i should remove characters who didnt have a scene in this fic from the tags please I wasn't sure if i should tag them even if they were only mentioned in the letters
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ryuunosuke hadn’t planned to write this recipient a letter, but after coming clean to Gin, he felt that he should, in a way, come clean to everyone.
..- -. . -..- .--. . -.-. - . -..
To the Weretiger Atsushi Nakajima.
I must admit, it took me a fair bit to decide to utilize your name above. While it was tempting to simply refer to you as I have always done, it felt patronising. It is very clear from the few times that we have interacted that inherently, your ability is something that acts as a negative existence deeply rooted in your core being.
Although I cannot entirely relate to this sentiment of yours, I do understand a part of it. From what I can recall, you are fairly new to fully utilizing your Gift as up till recently, you had yet to learn that you were an ability user. This idea is completely foreign to me for ever since I could remember anything at all, Rashoumon was at my side. My manipulation of clothing was something I instinctually utilized when the time called for it and without a doubt, it was an innate need for protection that caused me to depend on it for taking my first life.
Contrary to popular belief, I have not been a heartless murderer since I was a child.
After that first kill, the kids around the slums started to treat me as if I was erratic. As if I would slit their throats if they looked at me the wrong way.
Even my own kin got wary of me.
I stopped using my ability for a while after that until I realised something.
It was my greatest asset.
Why should I care if others think of me as ferocious? Even if I was petrified of hurting someone I cherished, stamping out the fire inside me rather than kindling it to tame its heat was a foolish thing to do.
You are foolish.
While trials and tribulations have befallen you due to the White Tiger, using it to grow is an opportunity that you must not waste.
Your past does not define you, your actions do, yet you continue to be hung up on your misgivings and feel sorry for yourself, to the point it makes me sick. I won't lie and say I am not hypocritical on this topic, but I will still say that this irks me to no end. The past is simply the life you lived up till now, and while it shaped who you are, it should have no effect on you. This is not to say that mental illnesses caused by your past are null, no, but the fact remains that your past is not going to appear out of the shadows and eat you up, like you seem to fear it will.
Truthfully, I am not completely aware why I am giving advice to you. You must know that I have passed away, if you have received this, so you have no obligation to listen to a dead man. I do not implore you either, for it would feel unsightly, even if I will be gone soon enough.
Yet, I feel like to preface my next words, I had to give you guidance. To make it clear that, after thinking it through, I do not have any personal grudge against you. Although I do not think that we could ever have been friends in any universe, if our circumstances were different, I may have not minded being your acquaintance.
That said, I would like to admit something that you must have guessed already.
I have felt incredible jealousy at your situation. Not envy, jealousy, for I have genuinely wanted to bash your head in several times just to take your place.
And yet, at the same time, I don’t want to live your life, either. Truth be told, it's what I would have done differently in your shoes that irks me the most. Had I been given such opportunities, I am sure that I would’ve behaved differently and achieved a life of my liking, yet after careful reflection, there is no way for me to know if I truly would have made any decisions contrary to yours. After all, if I had not lived my life as it is now, my views and opinions may have been similar to yours. Resembling those in the light. Not drenched by the darkness that plagues wretched and rotten souls.
The thought of being akin to you still makes me shudder in disgust, though. I still do not like you, you are far too lucky for my liking.
It must be obvious that my jealousy stems from the man called Osamu Dazai, your current mentor at the Detective Agency.
My former mentor at the Port Mafia.
You know nothing of his sins. The numbers, the crime lists... Their existence pales to watching those heinous acts unfold in real-time. You are incredibly lucky to have met this man at the stage he is at now, and it infuriates me, I’ll admit, that you will not suffer the same way I did. Part of me wants you to feel the agony I did, and part of me wants for him to never repeat his ways ever again.
An almost hilarious contrasting dilemma, I agree.
I shall also say, it would be childish of me to list all the torment he inflicted on me just to frighten you, or perhaps expose his past sins, so I shall conclude the section about him here.
The clarification that I am not jealous of your feats and character is of the utmost importance. I do not respect you as a person, but for the actions you have done, the good things you have accomplished, it would be a crime not to say that they were commendable. I must say, I despise you, your very existence irks me. It is irrational, yes, I admit, but the fact remains that my displeasure towards you is real and as prevalent as ever. I abhor you. I loathe that you caused me to experience feelings of jealousy towards such an undeserving man. Your fashion sense is downright questionable, specifically your hair, though I cannot judge that.
I have never wanted to be you, but a part of me had wished that I had been the one saved. I will not elaborate, for this is none of your business, but I would like to ask, is everyone truly a mindless villain, out to get you? How is your mentor an exception?
Ponder on it.
In any case, my need for approval has been embarrassing. I ask you to forget any time I ever mentioned wanting to be acknowledged by that man.
And most of all, forget me. I do not want my memory tainted in your head, especially.
But if you don’t, I don’t care.
For I will be dead.
Goodbye.
PS: Kyouka needs someone responsible to rely on. And stay away from my funeral.
—Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
.- -.-. -.-. . .--. - .- -. -.-. .
Notes:
this has like . the most hits and kudos out of all my fics I think HOLY?? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING HELLO?? ILYILY :33
I've had no time to read fics guys I'm in a puddle of SADDNESS PLEASE I can get through this trust
anyways I I I I I I tried to make this as canon as possible?? please tell me your own interpretations PLEASEEE I'D LOVE TO HEAR THEM
I'm probably biased on the fact I don't like the sskk ship so I kept writing that aku hated him LMAO
this is kinda shorter than my other ones so I MAY add onto It laterthe lack in uploads is also because I'm currently obsessed with alien stage (go watch it NOW!!!!!!!)
Chapter 7: Kyuusaku Yumeno
Summary:
To Kyuusaku Yumeno,
If you are reading this, I must have passed away.
Be stronger than your enemies. Be smarter than them. Do not let them get to you.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
<16 days left
.-. . --. .-. . -
To Kyuusaku Yumeno.
If you are reading this, I must have passed away. To be completely honest, I am not quite sure of my reasoning for addressing this particular letter to you, and I doubt that you will read the entire thing before ripping it up and throwing it away.
I’m not that sure that you know how to read, actually, but I digress.
Your anger towards me is justified, and I will not try to defend myself in any way whatsoever. Yes, I heard you mutter obscenities at me after that time I came across you, having to depart once that man found me conversing with you. I am unsure what transpired after that with you, but I am sure that it must have been unpleasant, seeing as how in my own punishment– thankfully only extra training since that man was busy– he cited that you were not allowed to converse with people.
You had lost the privilege after being given a chance to show your willingness to cooperate in a mission. From my experience, going against that man’s orders was never pleasant.
I am not attempting to make it seem like what you went through was and still is justified. You are a child, and I am sure that you are likely unable to remember memories from a decade ago, THAT is how young you are. The mafia is a cruel fate, but as the past cannot be changed, the only thing that you can do is persevere in this hellhole. In a way, I have had it easier than you, though I had believed you to be lucky when I was younger. Fortunate to be locked up away from any direct missions. Away from the bloodshed, away from the pungent smell of rot.
I was moronic. Being locked up for years was in no way something to be envious of. Even if I did not cherish them as I should have, I had companions that I could converse with whenever I pleased. You may see this as me gloating, but I must reinstate that I am not, in contrast, I am apologizing for ever having underestimated your situation. Endless nights of monotony, of no one answering your call, of being confined to such a tightly restricted area that even the sun was a sight only visible once in a blue moon.
The control that you have on your ability currently could only have been achieved after repetitive practice, and due to the nature of its activation, I am sure that this aforementioned practice was no easy feat. I do not know of your gripes, nor of your personal feelings, but from what I have heard, you are a deeply resentful child.
I remember when we first met. That time, as I previously mentioned, I came across your cell. From what I have heard, you are indeed allowed to leave that stifling jail at some points, able to roam a small area of the Port Mafia base only if there is an armed guard with you, but during that day, you had been stripped of your privileges.
I had been making my way over to the torture chambers as that man had decided to show me a real interrogation in order to prepare me for handling such a thing. In hindsight, it was strange that no guards were around, but I suppose that since the area that led up to you was so incredibly secured, they weren’t quite needed.
Or they wanted to get away from your cries of misery. I remember being startled, of course, I was worried about the reason that a child would be down here. I remember calling out, and you slowly responding, before excitedly asking if I wanted to play. The switch in emotions was jarring, and I am now aware that you cannot help it, though I must admit, it is still unsettling and hard to get used to. I had been unable to see you since we were speaking through a padlocked door, that undoubtedly had further mechanisms to prevent anyone but the Boss from opening it.
Even after my countless refusals, you just kept on asking, as well as pleading for me to open the door. I was not stupid enough to comply even if I had been able to brute-force my way through, and after I finally got up to leave, I bumped into that man, likely having gotten impatient at my lack of arrival and guessing that I had wandered off.
It seemed that he had been listening for quite a while, and I cursed myself for not realizing earlier. Useless pondering, I must add, if that demon doesn’t want someone to notice him, then he isn’t seen.
Anyway, I am sure that by this point, you’re rolling your eyes. With what emotion, I do not know. My point is, you are not the only one affected by this environment. I do not mean to chastise you for being unable to understand the nuance of it all, but I do hope that one day, you will realise the true meaning of my words. The rage that you feel is valid, its palpability is a direct consequence of the things you have gone through, but at the end of the day, it is up to you to utilize it.
I will not pretend to care for you. Frankly, through the things I have heard about you, your ability, your temperament, your mentality… You scare me. It is a bit daft of me, and I would have never admitted it before, but since I decided to stay true to myself for once, I will tell you the truth. I do not know you personally, I am unable to humanize you inside my head, but simply from your situation, I cannot hate you. None of my subordinates have died due to you, and even if they had, I would harbor no visceral hate towards you, simply due to the fact that it would do no good.
I expect that the rest of the Mafia feels the same, at least those who are privy to your existence. The world does not hate you, and while I am sure that you must feel that it does, the reality is much different. Yes, there are people who loathe your very existence and detest every fiber of your being, but those people are the minority. There is a world out there where, if you play the right cards and act with genuine kindness, you will be rewarded with positivity, instead of the cycle of negativity you have been trapped in.
I am not promising you anything. This is all for you to figure out on your own time, and I doubt that you will be let outside anytime soon, either. But, I know that it is unlikely that you will be confined for life, so if you behave, you may be let out for some sort of mission. Comply. Make an end goal, and do not lose sight of it.
I am unsure why I am advising you. I must want to get back at that man, especially since it is fairly obvious that even between all that pessimism he feels towards you, your existence scares him. If I must say, your soul seems to terrify him. This is direct proof of the disclosure that I am not doing this out of pity or anything of the sort, and that these are merely pure selfish desires to have someone accomplish something I could not. My precise reasoning is unknown even to me, so I suggest you avoid dwelling on it (something I do not know if you will even do) and instead take my words into account.
Listen, or well, read carefully. Comprehend these words. I am no wise guru, but I can provide my experiences as footsteps you should steer clear of.
Do not let rage and jealousy ever control you. Such vile emotions should be buried deep, or let out through a healthy outlet so that never is your judgment clouded by meaningless thoughts. No, your feelings are not trivial, but in the world you reside in, they pale in comparison to decisions you must make, which won’t give any sort of leeway for messing up.
It may seem hard– impossible even– but try to forgive those who harmed you. I do not mean that you should forget them since even those that plague the taint in your heart made you learn something, but forgiveness will make your life less bleak. Less consumed with vengeance.
Do not give up on revenge, but do not strive solely for it. If you designate it as your only goal, you are sure to fail, and even if you do not, it will be sloppy. Unsatisfactory. It will cause more harm to you than to your target.
The object of your hatred is the world. I know. I also know that you will not believe my previous words about the world not being out to get you, but I must say that once you have grown up, you will realize that at some point, you will have enough power to actually succeed in your goals, and find out that it was simply those that held you back that were to blame.
You must despise the Boss, more or less than that man though, I do not know. Since I am ignorant of your quirks or personality exactly, I do not know if you would genuinely try to assassinate the Boss, but I advise you not to. This is an example of those times where an unplanned revenge causes more harm than satisfaction as if the Boss passes away, the ongoing chaos may cause you to be weaponized even further.
All this sounds extremely self-righteous, and I will definitely confess that I am a complete hypocrite. I do not forgive any of the people I mentioned and I will forever loathe their existence, even after death. Furthermore, that man’s downfall would cause me great pleasure, but alas, I will be in hell without ever finding out what truly sets him off in the end.
You do not have the luxury of holding grudges. You must survive by keeping a calm mind– As much as you can. With my death, my emotions will disappear as well, so I feel that I am completely justified with my own grudges being taken to the grave, but the same cannot be said for you.
You must live. Out of spite. Out of will. Out of whatever the hell you want, because life is precious. I will not tell you to do something as drastic as leave the Mafia, though if you do somehow end up doing so, I give no opinion on the matter. Your life is yours to traverse, your future is YOURS to create. Rise up the ranks, make a name for yourself, and become better than your state now.
I lied, earlier. I feel sorry for you. I always have. Fear from the stories I have heard about you is still etched in me, but deep down, I have always felt guilt for never having the guts to stand up for you. I was deeply afraid of what would happen to me if I ever tried to talk to you without that man’s permission again, and since Chuuya-san was not quite fond of talking about you either, I simply left the matter alone– swept your existence in my mind under the rug, as if you were a mere pest to be forgotten. Like someone in the past who did not matter now, all while you were likely still locked up. Alone. In isolation. Solitary madness.
Is that why your mental state worsened? I doubt even you know. The variety of repulsive situations you must have gone through would surely make anyone crack. I commend you for retaining your lucidity.
I digress, I always felt and still feel bad for just leaving you alone. I had no choice, really. No, that’s a lie again, I had choices, but I was far too afraid to explore them. As someone who grew up as the eldest in a group of children, it chills me to the bone how bad the compliance beaten into me must have been to ignore my instincts. Truthfully, I do not remember much of the time when I first joined the Mafia, and I doubt you do too.
Yet the scars remain. I advise you to ignore them. Or at least, heal them. Heal your spirit. Fix yourself so you can make connections. So you can never be abandoned.
Kyuusaku Yumeno, nobody cares about you in this world. Not me, not the Mafia, not anyone. Sure, your ability may be useful, you are an asset unlike any other, but you as a person are not valued by anyone in this world. Perhaps your parents loved you, perhaps they didn’t, it does not matter now.
I must bring you to your senses with mere words, so I must be harsh. I will not apologize, but I will say that this is a necessary evil and that you may hate me if you please.
My point is that no one will ever be genuinely concerned for you till you give them a reason to be. Till you act as a real human. Till you show them that you are capable of remorse. The Mafia is a place of bloodshed, yes, but almost all of it is calculated. With a reason. From what I have heard, the deaths you have caused have had no real purpose, which is an easy way to make yourself hated.
You must show them that you have what it takes to live. Your willpower must overshadow any grievances people may have about you and you must truly hone some dedication, otherwise, you will just become another sheep in the pile, traumatized and slaughtered in the Mafia once their use is over.
Be stronger than your enemies. Be smarter than them. Do not let them get to you.
And of course, live. Live to spite them all. Live till you have regained your sense of self.
Forgive, but do not forget. Never forget.
Forget me if you so wish, but do not forget my words.
–Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.
Notes:
me: i dont think i'll write that much about kyuu tbh maybe it'll be barely 1k words
me yapping like hell in this chapter :IM SORRY IF I KEPT REPEATING STUFF IDK I think it'd make sense at this point in time
heheheeh aku never mentioned dazai by his name eheehehehe
I'm sick again bro worst immune system core
ALSO I'm gonna be cosplaying kyuu in the anime cons I'm going to in feb!! I'm speedrunning making the props and they're so scuffed it's so funny I cant sew so I'm using glue for everything ever < / 3 someday.. I'll learn how to sew...very very inspired by the yaps on chapter 4 with A_Bouquet_of_Clocks !!!
i really wanted to show that ryuu doesn't have any personal positive feelings towards kyuu. i don't think he would in canon at least, again tell me your interpretations! i tried to convey that him trying to help kyuu is more of a 'getting back' toward dazai in a way?posted ; 26th January 12:45 AM
also I just realised did I accidentally get inspired by kaeya alberich's bucket list. LIKE. I've always written letters and diaries of my ocs after I wrote this one story a few years ago.. but did it stem from that fic... who knows....
Chapter 8: Ichiyō Higuchi
Summary:
Perhaps Ryuunosuke should've composed this particular letter far earlier, and while he did already think of things to put down, he had been unable to bring himself to write it until now.
Bed rest had begun, and she was sure to have noticed.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
<14 days left
Perhaps Ryuunosuke should've composed this particular letter far earlier, and while he had already thought of things to put down, he had been unable to bring himself to write it until now.
Bed rest had begun, and she was sure to have noticed.
.- .-- .- .. - . -.. / .- .--. --- .-.. --- --. -.--
To Higuchi Ichiyou.
I suppose you're likely upset after hearing the news about my death. I believe you likely suspect it at the time I'm transcribing this, and I apologise for refusing to see you.
While I cannot fathom, even now, why you ever willingly wished to be associated with the likes of me, I respect you for sticking to your own sense of morals and following what you thought was right. Although it may seem strange for me to accept the time you went against orders to save me, truth be told, such passion was an enviable thing to observe.
I will not go as far as to say that your reason to live is me, but I can tell that, for whatever reason, I mean something to you.
For that, I would like to thank you. Even when I pushed you aside and frankly, treated you far worse than I ever had the right to, you never let it permanently affect you. Perhaps it did, I would not know, but you never let it get in between you and your job– For the most part.
I will not pretend to know you well. I don’t. I barely know of your past, and I only know the drinks you get every time you somehow convince the whole squad to go to the bar. Your charisma is fairly remarkable and so is your ability to act convincingly enough. You did a great job when fooling the Armed Detective Agency, and I must commend you for holding out on several occasions, including that one, until I got there. It sometimes astounds me that you have no ability, but perhaps I simply underestimate those without any. Alas, it might be for the best that you have none, since being too useful is also an unfortunate thing in the Mafia.
You followed me like a shadow. A loyal dog afflicted with such deep madness that even through hell, you would undoubtedly leave your morals and chase after me. I don’t know why. I might be presumptuous for even writing about your devotion, but I don’t think I am wrong to use such hyperbolic terms, as you have proven many times that your allegiance is quite incredible.
I find you an enigma. I am sure that you are confused at such a confession, as there are many more complicated psyches that I have met, but in my opinion, your faithfulness to something that you clearly show a half-hearted sentiment towards is an interesting specimen of thoughts. This could be taken as a compliment, or as anything else, just know that my own feelings regarding this matter are one of neutrality. I know that you have distinguished yourself by now and have thrown your heart into work with more vigour, but I sense that you are still unsure of your capabilities.
I apologise for ever saying that you were annoying. You were, don’t be fooled, but vocalising such a thought to someone– with such a harsh intonation– who simply wanted to help me to her utmost was foolish from my end. Honesty should be reserved to be used with its twin pair; niceness. Kindness is hard to emulate, true warmth at least, but being polite is the basis of every interaction. If you choose to stay in the Mafia, negotiating with sweetness is the biggest weapon you can brandish.
Yes, I have no opinion on you staying in the Mafia as well. From your files, I have discerned that you live with a younger sister who is not involved in this world. My word of advice–that you can very well ignore if you like– is to keep her away from this world forever. Even if she shows interest, even if she feels like she wants to follow in your footsteps, do not let her. The fewer who walk the path of bloodshed, the better. However, if she truly does not back down, if she truly has dedication and is truly made for this, then support her. Be close to her. Listen to her woes. Don’t let her dive into work. This applies to everyday life as well. Don’t neglect your younger sister like I did. Be better.
Of course, you have no need to listen to a dead man, especially to one who mistreated you so often. I have no excuse. I was an impatient and selfish man that believed acting in such a way was normal and that you were the moronic one for acting any other way. Deep down, I knew that what I was emulating was indescribably wrong, that you being eventually unfazed in the long run from my harshness was a devastating effect and should not have occurred at all.
I knew that I was acting exactly like my former mentor, but I ignored it. Like every issue. I ignored it.
I ignored this issue too. My lung disease. Till it overtook me.
I apologise for not telling you. I think it will be easier to move on without seeing me deteriorating, or perhaps it is just my self-serving wish to ignore your worry for me. To be spared from your undoubted face of utter shock and despair. I don’t want to see it. I really don’t. I am not good with confrontations, and I’m sure you would have a heartfelt speech prepared.
Maybe on my deathbed, you can visit me. I’ll let Gin know. A final goodbye, when my consciousness will be drifting away.
It will be soon.
I hope I do not see you in hell anytime soon.
My last orders for you are as follows:
Live. Live for your dreams. Live for your sister. Live for yourself. Live where you want. Don’t try and force yourself in an environment you don’t want to be in. If you want my two yen, then know that I feel you do have the capabilities of a powerful Mafia member. You are suited for it. But your willingness to harbour the risks of staying or leaving are both on you.
Forget me. Do not chase for validation like this ever again. You only need your own satisfaction to live. Digging for scraps of love and attention is a pathetic way to proceed with your life and I am sure that you know that as well. If you do crave for someone’s validation, and end up finding someone who gives it to you, make sure that it’s a balanced deal. A healthy relationship that isn’t centered around power imbalances. That both of you are sincere to each other. A difficult feat in the Mafia, yes, which is why I advise you to focus on yourself in the first place, but if the time comes you find someone worthy, make sure they fit those criteria. If you ever come across someone akin to me, run far away or kill them.
Or don’t. I will be dead. (Or well, I am when you are reading this) You do not need to listen to me. You not listening to me would also be nice, I suppose, you would be thinking on your own.
Think for yourself. Live for yourself. You are not weak. You can survive.
Goodbye.
.-. . --. .-. . - ..--..
Sometimes after writing these letters, Ryuunosuke didn’t want to die.
He scoffed.
Selfish nonsense again. He deserved death.
Notes:
posted: 16th June 2 AM
omg hiiii i'm so sorry for dying but i'm ALIVE heh also i got free a few days ago but i. bought minecraft and got a little. addicted.
chat how are we feeling after the new bsd chapters. my beloved needs a break < / 3
also I'M SO SORRY if i described higuchi as too much for a simp like i always thought of her as really obsessed and i think she is but.. idk if i went too far..
..i also replaced the phrase 'two cents' with 'two yen' lmaoooooo i'm so funny trust meI don't know if theres a parallel to this in japanese but i added more "don't"s and "I'm"s instead of do not and I am, because.. because he's like. tired. And also he's trying to seem more... better? Maybe it's like formal speech turning into informal, or something... ANYWAYS I JUST WANTED TO SAY THOSE ARE INTENTIONAL LMAO
Next is kyouka, then koyou and mori (maybe theyll be separate but probably in one) then gin. and then. death. :3 unless i write one of someone else or a to do list thing. (to do list will be akutagawa rotting in bed. joke. not really a joke it's true. LMAO.)
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