'Are you sure that's what you want to do?'
I hesitated before I gave the ginger a short nod, my hands still caressing the fabric of the hat he'd lent me to keep me company when he, along with Oda, had left me in the latter's office to cry alone. I didn't feel the least mad at them for it - I would've done the same if I thought the situation deemed necessary.
He heaved out a sigh, pulling himself up from being crouched down in front of me for what might've been a good half hour.
After returning alone, he stayed and listened to the conclusion I had reached upon reflecting on the events of these past few weeks while at the Mafia, and though I could tell he may have objected to the decision he accepted it as the best course of action for me also.
He extended out his hand to pull me up. 'I'll take you to Mori.'
I took his hand but did not allow him to lead me out; instead, I let go once my weight and balance were dependent on my legs and took the fedora that I held with my opposite hand into both, reaching my arms up and above his head to return the hat to where it belonged.
'I appreciate all you've done, Chuuya,' I confessed as I retrieved my hands, and gave him a gentle smile. 'But you've done enough.'
'Will your memories fade?'
I shook my head.
'I'll be here if you ever need anything, [Y/N].'
Then I departed from his office - the last time I planned to ever do so (and the last time I ever did).
From the short while, I'd been left alone to ingest the painful facts of events told to me I managed to reach a final decision on what should be the best for me - for him too perhaps.
'I'm leaving the Port Mafia, sir,' I stated as Mori allowed me in his office, expression unchanged at my declaration.
He did not protest as I had thought he might've - from watching countless TV shows or reading literature and graphic novels related to the subject of members of an underworld organisation wanting to leave, I gathered the matter was never taken lightly; the man wanting peace from crime would often be labelled a traitor and executed on the spot, or, if he lived through the false approval of its boss to set foot outside, it wouldn't be for too long until members of the organisation were sent out to assassinate him. Am I being provided with the latter?
'It's a shame. Your ability was a great asset for the Port Mafia. Alas,' he expressed as he reached a conclusion to the consent provided for my decision. 'No need to live in fear for your life, I will not attempt to persuade you to return. But I may have trouble accepting you back if you wish for such.'
'You needn't worry about that, sir,' I responded, bowing my head understandingly. 'I won't cause you the trouble of seeing me again.'
I escorted myself from his office once our conversation came to an end, startled as I saw a black-clothed figure of a man in a familiar trench coat standing beside the door, giving the illusion he was waiting for someone.
He quickly turned to me as he noticed my presence, hands desperately indecisive of where to rest from the looks of it.
'You've come to talk with Mori?'
'I came to talk with you.'
I cast him a smile, a soft one with no true joy in it; from having been shattered I expected smiling would be too difficult a task, which wasn't miscalculated, but the result of my heartbreak made it oddly easy to fake a smile and deceive others around me of things being fine.
'There's nothing else to say, Dazai. All's been said and done, and now there's no going back.'
'But -' he started but stopped, in the belief he could not persuade my mind to change anymore (he was right). 'You're leaving Yokohama?'
I nodded, reaching into my bag to drag out a piece of scrap paper that had been sitting inside the small pocket of its inner side.
'I thought it would be much harder to direct a single word at you, even worse to speak so fluently as I do now,' I told him, holding the thinly folded paper between my index and middle finger. 'But I've come to the conclusion we're equally as broken, both with our own reasons for such.'
Then I proceeded to take his hands and place the paper on his palm, using his other hand to enclose the small scrap piece.
'Chuuya and Oda would kill me - or you, or the both of us for that matter - if they knew I was leaving this with you, so guard it with your life.' I let go of his hands though I wanted to have held them for a while longer. 'That is my final gift to you. The last thing you will ever receive from me while I still love you.'
'You're resetting your emotions?'
I did not give him an answer; he wasn't asking because he did not know - he must've put two and two together. He simply wanted to be sure of his speculation.
'I didn't quite know you were feeling so shattered at first. Your eyes were empty but your mastery of those smiles is so fluent it truly fooled me. In any case, you remind me of a man I once wrote about; perhaps it's fate that I met whom I created a while back.' I took a step back and looked him in the eyes one last time, aware that his eyes neglected some of the dullness once found in them but nevertheless retaining the majority of it which to someone else would seem like no different. 'Perhaps fate can be corrupt, too.'
Without allowing him to respond, I led a decisive walk away from him, from the boss' office, but still had one more place I would have to visit.
Turning in the corners which had become of familiar nature to me, I guided myself towards Oda's office, opening the door and closing it behind me once I'd been provided admission.
There was a melancholic feeling in the air, one which I myself had indulged in alone countless times while growing up. A sense of loss. Longing for something which was gone.
'I've not died,' I tried saying in a joking way attempting to ease the mood, but from experience, I should've known this wasn't an easy step to leap.
'The [Y/N] I knew has.'
'Don't be so pessimistic,' I dismissed as I offered myself a seat by his desk, straining to see what he had been writing in his notepad. 'What is it that you're always writing? A book? Will Oda become a writer in the near future?'
He looked grimly at his drafted notes, and set the pen down, rubbing his face with both hands and pushing his short burgundy curtains back in distress.
'Nice forehead -'
He flicked me lightly on the head. I held the aching spot while moaning at his sudden act of clement violence.
'Chuuya messaged me that you might come and see me before you left. With that said, you're leaving.'
'Do you oppose it?'
He shook his head. 'If it's the best for you then I'm fine with it. Plus, I figured if you were to erase your emotions you'd do so somewhere where Dazai would not follow you to.'
'I didn't want him interfering again,' I replied, having been made aware of Dazai's ability by the small conversation Chuuya and I had just a while back. 'And I know you can't - not unless you hold a gun to my head and shoot me. Please don't!' I said as I held my hands up in defeat, handing out a smile to show him of my disbelief he would do such a thing.
Then he sighed. 'I know it's not something you want to do, it's written all over your face. If you were craving it so much you would've done so already, instead of giving me banter.'
I rested my hands back in my lap and looked down at them; he was right, I didn't want to. Despite the hurt and ache, being surrounded by mafiosos also taught me that good things can be found in places least expected - after all, the mines which gold is dug from are completely in the dark.
'There came good things on this journey too. If I hadn't met Akutagawa by accident in the alleyway to buy me some milk, I would probably still be on the lookout for any not so dandy job out there to support my independent lifestyle.' Then the tears flooded, but despite this, I still forced a smile. 'Thank God I drink hot chocolate.'
His arms came around me, bringing me into a warm embrace. He did not seem the least bothered that my tears wet the fabric of his shirt, not at all in fact for he brought me closer and held the back of my head comfortingly.
It was warm. It felt safe. I wish I could stay like this for longer - for life.
But it must come to an end.
'Reset all,' I breathed out, wrapping the skin of my bare arm with my dominant hand.
He held me a while longer and proceeded to let go. His eyes analysed me, like the eyes of a doctor who examines a patient who does not do so much as speak of their symptoms.
'How do you feel?'
I delayed my answer. 'Neutral.' I looked at my hand, reading my own missing emotions in my palm. 'I know I had emotions, but I don't remember what they felt like.'
He took my hand in his and gave me a smile - that means he's happy, right?
'Let's not worry about this right now. I think you deserve to be treated to a nice meal before you leave. What do you say?'
I agreed and he led me outside the building, having caught Chuuya on the way and invited him also, and headed towards a small open-air restaurant nearby. It felt troublesome to be among people who had a clear knowledge of what each emotion felt like, how it was triggered, what it meant, but despite this, my company made sure I wasn't worrying so much about such matters - not at that precise moment.
'Right now you should be quiet and finish your plate,' my ex-superior said, a tone present (but unknown) which made his otherwise harsh words soft to bear. 'I'll be your tutor of emotions, starting with happiness. Would you like a candied strawberry for dessert to trigger it?'
'Yes please!'