Chrysanthemum Garden [Dazai x Reader] ✓

31. [̲̅W][̲̅a][̲̅r][̲̅m][̲̅t][̲̅h]

An overdue library book. A grave.

Dazai was visiting a friend.

The weather forecast had failed to report the chance for the heavy rain that now fell – despite the evident cold and gloom of day – and Dazai had not come equipped with an umbrella; despite having a trench coat that could shield him from the natural dejection, he chose to mantle the stonehead reading "ꜱ. ᴏᴅᴀ".

In his pocket sat a thin and colourful book he intended to read by the grave like usual, however, the porous weather did not allow him to do so; on other occasions, he'd come prepared with an umbrella and let thunder and lightning accompany his reading, but today he would not risk it. He would not damage the book.

'It's years overdue, Odasaku...' he whispered softly, drifting into a thoughtful melancholy as his eyes set on the deceased's name. 'You were always responsible and returned books on time... You didn't return this one... can you do that one last time...?'

His memories were cluttered beauties and organised disasters. Relics of pain and antiques of a shameful life were mere samples in his museum of grief.

.

.

.

"I thought you'd have finished that book by now," the young brunet addressed as though the sight of the book physically disgusted him; he looked up at the tan male as silence set, bringing his glass to his lips before taking a couple of sips. "How good can a book be that you've had to renew it several times in a row?"

The blue-eyed male hummed in acknowledgement of the brunet's annoyance but did not reply; his focus was busy with alternating between a page in his notebook and those printed in the book.

"What good is a baby-naming book anyway?" Dazai complained, cringing at the sight of the book's title at the top of the page. "The library must think you're on your third or fourth child by now."

Oda ripped the occupied page from his notebook and folded it in half, using it as a bookmark to close the book on the desired page. "If I adopt her, will you let her live?"

Dazai scoffed after a pause, placing his beverage back on the counter.

"We've had this conversation before, Odasaku! You're getting old and forgetful!" – he poked the man's shoulder and smiled nonchalantly. "If you're so worried about her, why not just kidnap the child? I'm the only real obstacle you'll face in its success!"

"There is an old saying, Dazai," the tanned male began, shaking his head to the earlier suggestion while he watched bar Lupin's habitual ginger cat hop onto the empty stool beside Dazai and purr wisely. ""The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.""

The young Port Mafia executive chuckled, stealing a glance at the cat that watched the two profoundly. "You're looking at it too literally; in simpler terms, that phrase only means that an unloved child is likely to rebel and turn to crime to feel present in the lives of others."

Oda shrugged and picked his drink up, reflecting on his own philanthropic attempt before taking an ingrained sip. "Why are you in the Mafia, Dazai?"

The brunet looked down at his drink silently, masking the memories of a forgotten past with a forced scoff. "That girl and I are not the same."

That's what Dazai tried to convince himself of daily, but he struggled to accept his own views on the matter, pressured by his friend's contradiction and the meowing of the ginger cat beside him that seemed to agree with Oda.

She's a liability! – was the argument he always justified her execution with, and to an extent, yes, it was reasonably true; her inability to control even the simplest fire made the use of her ability a disadvantage to the Mafia, and furthermore, there was no character to her that he was keen on keeping alive.