'Cura te Ipsum': 'take care of your own self' - an exhortation to physicians, or experts in general, to deal with their own problems before addressing those of others.
{ 20:19 - Yokohama Southern Bayline (Yokohama, Japan) }
Lining the bay was an endless stretch of warehouses, all belonging to the Port Mafia. Not one of them had a single speck of graffiti on them. No graffiti artist is so stupid.
If you had keen vision, you could see armed guards shrouded in darkness, keeping watch over their illicit goods in storage houses disguised as normal ones, though it fooled no one. This was the red zone of things both below and above the law.
I strolled along the bayline, hands shoved in my pockets, basking in the warm ocean breeze. One, two, three more warehouses until I reached the right one. I passed guards, who stiffened as they saw me. They recognized me; knew exactly who I was and how much value I held. If they were to shoot me, they and their families would be dead within the hour. I was a priceless asset to Chuuya Nakahara, their boss and overseer of this port.
I approached the man guarding the storage house with confidence. I knew Chuuya's schedule, and he always checked his goods before going home.
"Is he here?" I asked. Startled, the man shook his head.
"He's finishing up some business right now, but the boss will back soon to check on his assets. Would you like me to call h -"
"- Don't bother. I'll wait for him inside."
The man's eyes grew wide.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. The boss would kill me if I did."
I scowled, and reluctantly switched on my ability. Idiot.
Hideki Otsuma
Age: 31
Ability: None
Relevant Information: Stole 70,000 yen worth of ivory and sold it to a friend (Satou Yamaguchi) on the black market a year ago. Pinned the theft on his subordinate (deceased).
"Open the door and let me through, unless you want Chuuya knowing about that stolen ivory. Your boss isn't known for being forgiving."
He turned a ghastly shade of white.
"How... right. Of course." he said, lowering his head. "Forgive me." He pulled out his keys and passively unlocked the building's side door.
"Thank you, sir." I said, and managed an apologetic look. "Don't tell Chuuya I'm here when he arrives, or he'll kill you on the spot. He won't harm you if I tell him not to." I swung open the rusting door and walked in.
"Y-Yes! Thank you, you're very kind!"
I rolled my eyes, but it didn't mask the smile on my face as the door wrenched shut. Poor guy. I switched on the lights, to see a grand motherload of illegally imported guns, ammo, furskins, and of course, drugs. I couldn't name all of them if I tried. Everything besides cigarettes and alcohol are banned upon entering the Port Mafia and the price of getting caught with other substances is more often than not fatal, but the underground drug trade is what financed their escapades.
Mildly curious, I inspected the contents of the place to pass time. One box alone must be worth at least ten million yen, and there were countless boxes. If only the Armed Detectives could see this.
Halfway through sifting past piles of what appeared to be some kind of explosive, the door creaked, and I paused. That didn't take long.
I didn't even have time to fully process his arrival before Chuuya's hand was on my throat and I was slammed against the wall. His eyes were wild and feral, filled with unbridled rage.
"(Y/n)?! What the hell are you doing here without permission?! I'll kill you, for breaking into my warehouse! What did you take?!"
I went limp. Despite his talk, there was no pressure on my throat.
"Don't play. You know I'm no thief. " I said coolly, suppressing a laugh.
Chuuya scowled, and grudgingly let go. I rubbed my neck.
"You're feisty as ever." I said.
"And you're as inconsiderate as ever, just barging in without invitation." He snapped. "You're like Dazai. Just say what you're here for, and then get out. "
Oh, Chuuya. Same as ever. Even though he's proven again and again that he's really a big softie, he still keeps a tough act for his pride's sake. The fact that he let go of me so easily means he still likes me.
I sat down cross-legged on a crate of what I think is cocaine.
"Yeah... speaking of Dazai. Can I tell you something?"
Chuuya gave me a testing look, which was familiar on him. "What is it?"
"...I joined the Armed Detective Agency."
Chuuya sprung back, as if I'd grown another head.
"Armed Detectives?! Are you insane?!" He swiveled his head back and forth, like he expected them to jump out at any moment. "Dammit, I'll bet you brought them here too, you goddamn traito - "
"Oh, come on." I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm not selling you out. They don't know about our business relationship, and I wouldn't betray you for them. Calm down."
Chuuya stayed right where he was at, still looking like he expected Agency members to pop up behind a stack of meth.
"...That means you've met Dazai again, right?!" His face fell into his palm, and he flashed me a dirty look. "Filthy bastard. He hasn't killed himself yet, has he?"
"That's actually what I came here for. You were his partner for years, so you probably know him almost as well as Mori. There's a couple things I'd like to ask, and in return I can tell you why I wanted to know. I know that deep down you're worried about him."
"I'm not worried about that piece of shit!" he roared, scrambling up to me with the rage of a kitten that thinks he's a lion.
"Right." I scoffed. Chuuya recoiled, still glowering.
"Anyways, I came here because he burst into the office soaking wet after trying to jump in a river. I haven't seen him since we worked together before, and to hear that he adamantly tries to kill himself regularly is kind of unnerving. So I'm asking you about it."
He glared at me suspiciously, like he was trying to discern just how treacherous I was. Finally, he sighed and took at seat at the crate opposite of me, arms folded together.
"Well," He huffed. "I don't know who Dazai was before he joined the Port Mafia, but he was trained by Mori, when he was first coming into power. He had him under his wing, and taught him everything he knows. I'm positive that during his time in training, Dazai's life was hell. My best guess is he's the one who made Dazai the way he is."
A wave of guilt and fear washed over me.
Mori. That sadistic, ruthless bastard. I've met him several times, and I always left feeling like I'd been visited by the devil. He was the one who held me captive, who exploited me for my power because he feared any ability greater than his. Of course Dazai's life was hell. Mori has only one focus in mind ー victory. He wants to rule over everything, and his ruthlessness strikes fear within everyone in the Mafia. Quickly, things began to make sense.
"Did Dazai ever say anything abou ー no, of course he didn't." I muttered. "Working under Mori... no wonder."
"Mori's taught him strategy, game theory, and manipulation. Made him the shifty bastard he is today. He brought him up to be another version of him."
"Right. And his power, the one with the little girl Elise. It's all-powerful. He probably felt threatened by Dazai's ability to nullify powers, which is why he chose him. That's... horrible."
"Probably. I guess if I was in his position, I'd make him my pawn, too. Dazai... from what I know, he's obsessed with victory. That's what he taught Akutagawa when he was his mentor, and he probably got it from Mori. I don't think Mori let him want anything but to win."
No, no no no no no. All of the pieces of this puzzle were falling in place, revealing a picture I wish I never saw.
"...What do you mean by that?"
"Oh... it's just that when we were kids, Dazai didn't have any friends. We only saw each other occasionally, and I was ordered not to get too close to him. I think Mori was trying to isolate him."
I understood now. The moment Chuuya mentioned Mori, I knew that Dazai was a victim of him.
I stood up. "Thank you, Chuuya.I think I get it now. I have to go. Oh, and uh, don't get mad at your guard for letting me in. I didn't give him a choice." Before he had time to run away, I gave him a quick hug, and he completely short-circuited. I laughed and began to walk away.
"(Y/n)? W-Wait!" he ran to catch up to me as I headed towards the door, grabbing onto the sleeve of my jacket.
I turned around to look at him. Only now did I realize I was trembling.
"(Y/n)! Why do you want to know?" he gasped. "You promised you'd tell me."
"Oh..." I'd forgotten about that. "I wanted to know because... I'm going to try and help him. You know me. I cant just sit back and watch him suffer like that."
Chuuya laughed sadly, and let go of my arm.
"He was your captor, and now you're trying to save him? You're too selfless for your own good. Oi, dont let Dazai kill himself before I get my hands on him, alright?"
I managed a small smile. "I know. See you, Chuuya."
We parted ways, and I set back out onto the Yokohama streets, feeling like there was a hole in my heart. Various emotions grappled at my heart.
Chuuya... he still cared about Dazai, despite himself.
Dazai is broken, and now I know why. He's too gentle, too kind for the likes of Mori. Victory is all that matters to that man, and if Dazai was raised by that monster, he must have shattered him completely.
Do the Armed Detectives know this? They must. The President isn't so stupid to not have put two and two together. I decided to pay him a visit.
〄〄〄
{21: 33 - Armed Detective HQ (Yokohama, Japan) }
I knew for a fact that the President and Kunikida stayed at the Armed Detectives until the wee hours of the night, which was why I was so confident barging into the President's office, blazing with anger. Surely enough, he was there, leafing through paperwork.
After a pause he looked up at me, seeming practically bored.
"(Y/n)?" he asked, his eyes flickering over my wild expression.
"Mr. President. Forgive the intrusion, but I need to talk to you about something important."
"Well, take a seat." He gestured at the chair on the other side of his desk, and I sat, brushing my hair out of the way.
"Is this about Mr. Osamu?" he asked.
"How did you know?"
"Kunikida informed me that you only recently learned of Dazai's suicidal tendencies and were upset. I thought you might come to me about it."
"Yeah, well, you were right." I said flatly, deciding to drop the formal tone. I was too pissed off to feign respect. "And yeah, I'm upset. I want to know why you did nothing, knowing that Dazai was suicidal. Why didn't you say something? If you cared at all about him, you would've - "
He put up his hand to silence me.
"Look." He had little patience in his tone. "I know you're upset because you care for him, but think rationally. What is the Agency supposed to do? His mental health isn't our responsibility, and it doesn't interfere with his work. We have no reason to take action."
If he was trying to calm me, he failed. I was outraged.
"Don't you care at all for your employees?" I spat. I couldn't believe that he had let this go on for so long. "Even on a human level?! If someone is hurting, do something about it! Suicidal thoughts aren't some minor inconvenience, or a quirk! He's suffering! He may come off as ingenuine in his attempts, but anyone who tries to end their life should be taken seriously. He's clearly in pain! If you deliberately turn a blind eye to that you have failed him as a boss, and as a human."
For long moment of silence that followed, I briefly wondered if he would fire me on the spot, and if it would be worth it.
The President leaned back in his chair, and looked down on me with unfeeling eyes. I scowled.
"Christ. Since none of you people seem to care at all, I'll have to help him myself." I vowed. The idea had been playing on my mind since this morning.
"Help him?" The President repeated. "(Y/n), I hate to come off as rude, but a broken tool is of help to no one. You haven't fully recovered from your time in the Mafia either, have you? You should examine yourself before you try to save others."
I stared at him, absolutely thunderstruck.
"Excuse you?! How did you --"
"-- I couldn't think of any other reason why you and Dazai knew each other before he joined the ADA. You aren't the type that joins the Port Mafia, and with your powers it's not hard to imagine that people would want to exploit it."
My blood turned to ice. I had no answer for him, except for the boiling pit of rage building up in my gut.
"(Y/n), if you want to save Dazai, first save yourself. You'll only hurt the both of you."
How fucking... what makes him think he can decide whether or not I'm broken?! He had no right to say a thing about me, no right! He knew nothing of my struggle.
I wanted to punch his smug fucking face. Glowering, I replied in a voice I fought to keep calm,
"Sir, you've known me for less than a day. You have no idea what I've gone through or how I've recovered. And, my past life and my dynamic with Dazai doesn't matter to you, right? So long as they don't interfere with work."
No, none of it mattered. He didn't care if his employee avidly tried to kill himself so long as it didn't inconvenience him. People that selfish shouldn't be allowed to cry at funerals.
I went on. "And, since it doesn't interfere with work, it won't matter to you that I'm vowing to pick up the pieces you couldn't be bothered to, right?" I didn't wait for his answer. I get up from my seat.
"Good night, Mr. President. I'll see you on Wednesday."
I didn't remember my departure from the office to the streets outside. My mind had gone completely haywire, and a lump was quickly rising in my throat.
Dazai. The more I let myself think about it, the greater I feared that I would break down. I began to walk faster.
Dazai was broken and hurt and no one's ever cared about enough to bother helping him.
I broke into a sprint, fleeing down the alleyway with tears blurring my vision before furiously wiping them away. I reached my house, but before I could swing open the door my emotions spilled all the way over. I doubled over on my front porch.
A small, choked sound escaped my mouth before I lost it, and began to weep for the broken, beaten Dazai with all of the same sorrow we shared as prisonmates.
〄〄〄