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When Dazai bought the toy from the mystic shop, it was with careless abandon and simply to see the hair rise in horror on the back of Atsushi's neck. Ghosts aren't real, and Dazai knows this. By extension, the Ouija board he held in his arms as he cheerily talked about communing with the dead to find the best method of suicide would do nothing but sit on the floor, useless and immobile.
There are a few facts Dazai knows for sure in life, and perhaps the most important one of all is that the dead stay dead. Maybe that's part of why he chases his own. It's the most certainty he's found out of anything in life.
For days, the toy sits useless in its box on his messy floor, littered amongst a thin layer of personal effects that a therapist might claim is a result of depression. Dazai thinks he's simply a messy person.
In the same manner that a psychologist would call his penchant for drinking when he's left alone at night 'worrisome,' Dazai has convinced himself that it's only to help him sleep. Sure, he may have to vomit in the morning once or twice before going into work, but it's a small price to pay to sleep through the night.
But tonight, sleep doesn't come easily. He sets the bottle of sake down and heaves a sigh, eyes ghosting over the thin layer of crap that is his bedroom. It's then that his eyes land on the unopened toy.
He's just drunk enough to wonder, against his better judgement and rationality, if there is something to the stories about these boards. He isn't a teenage girl. He's seen more brutality and carnage in his short life than most would ever dream of in their worst nightmares. A planchette on a wooden board is hardly terrifying.
He tries, and fails, to stand. Determination for any sort of distraction has the best of him, however, and he crawls his way over the short distance to the box. He sits down and shakes the lid from the base, which lands on the floor with a dull thud.
The planchette bounces out of the box, and it takes a minute of searching to hold it in his hand. He's seen enough movies to know how this is supposed to go, so he pulls the board out of the box and leaves the instructions behind.
He sets the planchette on the board and takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes for a moment and thinks about the person he wants to speak to the most. It makes his heart ache and throat close up, but he can blame that on the alcohol later.
When he feels like he can breathe again, he puts both hands on the planchette and asks a simple question: "Are you there?"
He sits, immobile and waiting, for the better part of five minutes. The planchette doesn't move from the center of the board.
Dazai blinks away bitter tears of frustration and anger at himself. How stupid could he be? Of course there was no one on the other side to talk to him. Nothing like that exists.
He takes the planchette off of the board and leans back against his wall, holding it above his face. He starts to laugh bitterly at himself, at the cruelty of the world, and his own naiveté. Eventually, his hand drops to his side, and the planchette takes up permanent residence on the floor next to an empty snack bag and a beer bottle cap.
Dazai picks himself up off of the floor and walks over to his futon, stripping himself of the outer layers of his clothing as he goes. Once he's down to his boxers, he slips beneath the blankets, letting his restless head hit the pillow.
Well, at least buying the damned thing had given Atsushi nightmares for a couple of nights. The money he spent wasn't a total waste.
XxXxX
It isn't until Dazai finds himself unable to sleep, tense with the feeling that he isn't alone in his bedroom, that he starts to second guess himself. It had been a week since he had played with that stupid game, and ever since then, he had been seeing things out of the corner of his eye. Fleeting glimpses that disappear when he turns his head to look in that direction.
But there's something absolute at the same time it's ethereal, convincing him, despite his better judgement, that he isn't alone, and that he hasn't been in quite some time.
Dazai Osamu doesn't scare easily, but there's something about this that he can't quite shake, despite his best efforts.
It's three in the morning when his insomnia gets the best of him, and he scrambles over the floor, looking for the discarded planchette. His fingers brush polished wood, and he picks it up before crawling on his hands and knees to the Ouija board. He sits down, places the planchette onto the surface, and asks that same question with more conviction.
"Are you there?"
This time, he feels a pull against him, his hand moving up and up until the circular cutout rests solidly over his answer.
'Yes.'
Oh, what the fuck? Dazai breathes out a shuddering breath, tongue brushing nervously over his lower lip. Maybe he's just seeing things. Maybe his hands moved of their own accord. There's no possible way that this is happening to him.
He has to know. He has to be sure.
"What's your name?"
There's that tug again, dragging the planchette over the surface of the board.
O. D. A.
Dazai feels like he's going to be sick. His mind is playing tricks on him. He's doing this to himself, completely psyching himself out. There's no goddamned way that Odasaku is talking to him from beyond the grave.
He knows better than that. The dead stay dead. What a stupid, little game. He drops the planchette onto the board and stands up, snatching the bottle of cheap wine from the top of his dresser. He throws back a long drink straight from the bottle before leaning against the wall and glaring daggers at the board.
Stupid piece of shit.
XxXxX
Okay. So, even if Odasaku is haunting him, that can't possibly be a bad thing, right? Sure, it was a little awkward thinking that his best friend had a front row seat to some of his more private moments, but it wasn't like Odasaku was some evil spirit out to get him.
He sits on his regular barstool at Lupin, a second glass full at the seat next to his own. Even Sensei seems to acknowledge that they aren't alone when he jumps into one chair down, leaving the space between himself and Dazai. Large, slitted eyes gaze up at something Dazai can't see as the cat's calico tail swishes behind him.
Dazai is no longer surprised when something catches his eye in the mirror above the bar, only to disappear a fraction of a second later.
"You know, going after Gide was a stupid idea," Dazai finally breaks the silence. Sensei chirps up at him before he curls up on his barstool. "You knew you were going to die, and you went anyway. I get it. What happened to those kids... it was unforgivable to you. But you ran off and went to that fight like you had nothing left to live for."
At the empty seat, the ball of ice bobs in golden whiskey, clinking lightly against the glass.
"Don't give me that," Dazai huffs out. He runs his finger along the edge of his glass, creating a soft humming sound with the condensation on his fingertip. "You had plenty to live for. You had Ango. You had me."
Something flickers across the mirror.
"You could have saved a whole hell of a lot more orphans if you hadn't been so hell-bent on your revenge, you know." Dazai lifts his glass to his lips and takes a long drink, savoring the burn of the alcohol as he sits in an empty bar. Off to the side at the sink behind the counter, the old man dries glasses and minds his own business.
Dazai sets his glass down with a soft clink. "You don't need to worry about me, you know. I took your advice and became a better man. Sure, it's hard, sometimes. But I made you a promise, and I'm not about to break it."
The ball of ice in Odasaku's glass bobs in disagreement.
"You could have a little faith in me, you know." Dazai drinks down the last of his whiskey and slumps forward to put his cheek on the bar counter, turned to look at the other glass. "Look at how well I've done with Atsushi. The kid's perfectly functional, all things considered. I didn't add to that at all. I got him a job, a place to live... I was totally helpful!"
The glass of whiskey gives him no response.
Dazai pouts before he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and paying for the alcohol by placing several bills on the counter. He stands up, scratches Sensei between the ears, and bids the old man good night.
When he steps out of the bar, he groans to see the pouring rain. He slips off his coat, drapes it over his head, and tries his best to stick to the sheltered areas, but to no avail. As he finally steps, soaking wet, into his apartment, he could swear he heard someone laughing at him.
XxXxX
Is it weird to fall into a sense of comfort and a pattern of living with a ghost? It barely took a couple of days for Dazai to become completely accustomed to his house guest. If he's being honest with himself, he finds it deeply reassuring. Having Odasaku around, talking to him through small rustles of paper and gusts of wind, makes him feel better than he has in years.
His good mood and strange behaviors don't go unnoticed by his coworkers. Most of them choose to say nothing. Dazai acting stable, like a normal human being, is rare, and they mostly consider it something to be enjoyed rather than worried about.
He starts talking to himself. At least, that's how it looks. Dazai knows that he's having entire conversations with his best friend, and he just laughs along with the jokes the others make about his sanity. They would never understand if he told them the truth.
Sure, he had never actually seen Odasaku. He never appeared fully in front of him, and he hadn't spoken to him with words, either. He only communicated through small signs. But Dazai is absolutely convinced that he has his best friend back, and he is willing to cling to that fact with tooth and nail. No one could tell him differently.
In an attempt to get a bit more of a conversation going between them, a perfectly sober Dazai moves enough of his trash and junk from the floor to have a comfortable place to sit. He holds the planchette in his hands and lays it gently down onto the Ouija board he had placed directly in front of him.
"Why are you here?" Dazai speaks into the room, now perfectly aware that there is someone there to speak to.
The planchette drags across the board, revealing a few letters in answer to his question.
Y. O. U.
"Me? What does that mean?"
The planchette returns to the middle of the board, refusing to answer.
Dazai tries again. "That night. When you went to fight Gide. You had to know that you were going to die." His voice cracks with emotion.
The planchette drags its way across the board, settling over the word 'Yes.'
"Then why? Why did you go? Did you want to die?"
'No.'
Dazai almost throws the planchette in frustration. "But you did! You died, and you left me here! You left Ango here! We were happy!"
The planchette doesn't move.
"Yes, we were! We were together! Wasn't that enough for you?"
'Yes.'
"Then why? Why did you leave me?" Dazai chokes on a sob, head hanging down. The planchette moves back to the middle of the board, unanswering. Tears fall from Dazai's eyes, splattering the board he leans over.
Dazai's voice comes out in a hoarse whisper a few minutes later. "Can you stay?"
He tries to fight the planchette away from the answer he sees coming, but it drags there despite his efforts.
'No.'
"Please. Odasaku, please. I need you. Please stay. I don't know what to do without you. Living is so damned hard. I can't do it without you."
The hole in the planchette moves over a series of letters, dragging a sob from Dazai's chest as it moves over the board.
L. O. V. E. Y. O. U.
It doesn't stop moving. Apparently content with what had been said, the planchette drags low, lower down to the bottom of the board.
'Goodbye.'
"No." Dazai won't accept it. He won't. Odasaku wouldn't leave him all over again. No. He wouldn't. It's not possible. He puts his face into his hands and laughs so that the tears don't fall.
He doesn't know how long he sits there before there's a loud thumping against a shared wall of his apartment. "Shut up!" Kunikida roars from the unit next door.
Dazai falls silent as he hugs his knees to his chest, heart ripped open. He stares at the board for a long time, gazing at it without really seeing anything. Finally, his lips move in a soft whisper.
"Goodbye."