Work Text:
To Dazai Osamu, nothing in the world could ever compare to the feeling of getting on someone’s nerves.
To see the slow build of anger in someone’s body, a slow simmering pot waiting to spill over, until finally there’s an eruption of noise and emotion: a perfect image of a human in its rawest form.
No matter how many times he witnessed it, it never got old.
Of course, most of the joy came from the scheming it took to make a person reach such a point. You couldn’t play the same tricks twice and expect the same raw result, and any trick worth playing always took time and effort to see to fruition.
Which is why, when the perfect scheme landed right in Dazai’s lap without him having to even raise a finger, it was like the heavens had opened up above him.
It all started when he noticed Kunikida entering the boss’s office. Now, this wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, as Kunikida made it a point to frequently meet with Fukuzawa to discuss all the important business details the second in command of the ADA would need to know.
What made this particular visit noteworthy, however, was the single piece of paper Kunikida held between his chest and his notebook.
From his desk, a normal person couldn’t discern what the sheet said, but Dazai was anything but normal. This specific sheet of paper was one he knew intimately well. The large text reading NOTICE OF ABSENCE at the top was one that haunted Dazai’s desk and his dreams.
While most employees of the ADA saw it as a simple formality, for Dazai it was a form that he always found its way into his line of view the days following one of his unannounced disappearances or, if Kunikida was feeling particularly petty, his late appearances to work. The worst part was that no matter how much he despised the form, it was the one form of paperwork he couldn’t avoid.
Kunikida was very strict about these forms. Dazai wouldn’t be surprised if he were the one who conceived the idea for them in the first place.
However, for as long as Dazai had worked for the ADA, he had never witnessed Kunikida filling out one of the forms himself.
It was a universal truth in the world: The sun set in the west, Chuuya Nakahara was below the national average height, and Kunikida never took a day off work.
Which was why, when Dazai heard the soft click of the boss’s door, he whirled in his chair to start questioning Rapno.
“Kunikida is taking a day off?” he asked as casually as he could.
Ranpo had just opened a new bag of chips. He gave Dazai a confused look, “Yeah?”
Thousands of possibilities flew through Dazai’s mind. Was Kunikida feeling ill? No, even if Kunikida contracted a terminal illness he’d find a way to work thrice as hard to compensate.
“Why?” He couldn’t help but ask. This was a monumental event.
Ranpo raised an eyebrow as he finished chewing a large bite of chips. “He’s going fishing,” he said through a full mouth.
Dazai fell out of his chair.
Fishing.
Kunikida was going fishing.
From the floor, manic giggles flew out of Dazai’s mouth.
The whole office turned to stare. Even Yosano came out from her clinic to figure out what was causing Dazai to giggle like a child told Christmas came early.
“Do I have to sedate him again?” She asked half with worry and half with glee.
“He found out about Kunikida’s fishing trip,” Ranpo supplied.
Dazai’s laughter increased in volume.
“ Fishing! He’s going fishing!” He roared.
Yosano raised her brow, “I don’t know why he’s acting like this. Kunikida does this every year.”
Dazai froze and peeked his head up above his desk.
“What do you mean? Since when?”
“Since always? It’s been a tradition for years now. It’s even in that notebook of his,” Yosano replied calmly.
At Dazai’s incredulous look, Ranpo chimed in, “He did it a month before you joined. The next year he went while you were doing one of your disappearing acts. He wasn’t even going to go this year because of all the chaos, but the boss insisted.”
As Dazai’s mind whirled around, trying to process this new bombshell of information, he felt the giddy laughter return to his chest.
Yosano narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Dazai,” she warned, “I think he deserves one day of peace without you pestering him.”
Ignoring her, Dazai whirled on Ranpo, “Where? When? Does he wear a little fishermen’s outfit?” The questions poured out of him alongside giddy laughter.
“Honmoku Fishing Pier. Tomorrow. 7 AM. He certainly won’t be wearing business casual,” Ranpo listed off, bored.
Dazai jumped up from the floor, “Tomorrow? Oh, I have so much to prepare. This will be wonderful. I can’t believe I’m so lucky to be able to witness this,” he mumbled to himself.
“Dazai,” Yosano warned once more, but Dazai resolutely ignored her.
“It was a lovely day working with everyone. Don’t expect me tomorrow,” he called from the door before disappearing down the stairs.
Just as soon as he was gone, the boss’s door opened, and Kunikida stepped out to find the whole office staring at him with various looks of pity and worry.
“Is something the matter?” Kunikida asked tentatively.
Almost immediately, the whole office turned back to their work as one, frantically shaking their heads.
Kunikida hummed in suspicion, before turning to leave. He only took one step before he heard Ranpo speak up, “Kunikida,” he called. “Have a nice day off tomorrow,” he said with a slight glint of mischief in his eye.
Kunikida chose to ignore this and instead gave a slight nod. “Thank you, Ranpo. Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone,” he directed the statement to the rest of the office, before walking out the door.
Ranpo watched him leave before turning back to his bag of chips.
“It’s not us he should be worried about.”
-
For most people, the word patience is not one that should swiftly be associated with someone the likes of Dazai Osamu, but most people were fucking idiots.
Dazai knew how to be patient when it mattered.
In the mafia, Dazai needed to be patient. Whether it was a covert mission, listening to Elise rant about her dolls, or his latest long con on Chuuya, Dazai could be patient.
So that’s why Dazai was in one of his best disguises, outfitted in a look none of the agency had ever seen before, standing on a random pier in Yokohama since 6:30 AM.
To any random passerby, Dazai would look like an astute birdwatcher with his binoculars and camera.
However, Dazai was on a mission: See Kunikida fishing.
Just like Ranpo said, the second Dazai’s watch turned to 7:00, he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the pier.
In the most subtle way possible, Dazai turned his head to peek at the newcomer and almost dropped his camera into the ocean.
Kunikida Doppo was walking towards him in the most ridiculous outfit Dazai had ever seen.
Kunikida was decked out in brown waterproof boots, thick cargo pants, and a white t-shirt with a horrendously bright green Hawaiian-style shirt unbuttoned over it. To top it all off, he had a forest-green fishing hat securely fastened with its chin strap.
In one hand, Kunikida carried a tan tackle box, while his other held his rod that was thrown over his shoulder.
Dazai schooled his expression and slowly raised his camera. This moment needed to be immortalized forever. He glanced down at the photo preview and had to stop himself from bursting into laughter.
Kunikida wore the same serious expression that he did at the agency. It was so juxtaposed with everything else about the situation that it made the image look like a product of one of Dazai’s mushroom trips.
If anyone were to have shown Dazai this image two days ago, he would’ve been certain it was the result of photoshopping or an oddly specific special ability that allows its user to forge photographs of his coworkers in fishing garb.
Dazai made sure to note how many copies of the image he would need to cover every possible surface in the agency as he slowly lowered his camera back to his side.
He watched as Kunikida stopped a respectable 2 meters away from him before gently laying his box on the pier. Kunikida then reached for a small strap on his back that Dazai had missed when he was first walking up, and pulled out a green portable folding chair.
With bated breath, Dazai watched as Kunikida went through the practised motions of baiting his hook. It was the same precision and diligence that Kunikida used to write in his notebook, to fight, to help run the agency, and to protect the ones he cared about.
He drew the line back with his finger, gaining some slack, before he gently cast it into the sea.
The soft plink of the line hitting the water seemed to reverberate in Dazai’s ears. He could feel the anticipation rising in his chest. He raised his camera in anticipation.
The bait sunk, down, and down until the line went taut against Kunikida’s pole, and Kunikida stood still .
It was like the whole pier was frozen in time. There was no movement, no sound, none of the action Dazai expected.
Was this really it?
Kunikida seemed perfectly content to quietly hold his fishing pole and stare at the sea, but Dazai wanted nothing more than to scream. He woke up before the sun even rose, donned one of his disguises and caught the train, and even bribed Ranpo with a month’s worth of sweets to keep his plans a secret to see Kunikida make a fool of himself only for nothing to happen!
He considered revealing himself now. It’d at least let him get a laugh from seeing Kunikida’s face go red with rage, and he also had those photos from earlier to use later. It wasn’t a total waste.
As Dazai reached up to remove his hat, Kunikida said, “You’re late.”
Dazai opened his mouth to defend himself, but someone spoke up first.
“I don’t recall fully agreeing to meet this year.”
There are not many moments in Dazai’s life he can say he’s felt truly surprised.
Ango Sakaguchi is walking down the pier dressed in his stupid tweed suit. Dazai wonders what kind of idiot wears such expensive clothing to the pier, but after the thought, Dazai isn’t sure he’s ever seen Ango outside of his work clothes. Does he even have other clothes?
“Caught anything yet?” Ango asked, leaning up against the railing next to Kunikida.
“I’ve only been here for a couple of hours at most,” he turned his attention back to the peaceful bobber dancing with the rhythm of the gentle waves. “Fishing isn’t it a race. It’s an art of patience.”
Ango pushed his glasses up, “As you’ve stated many times, but I think it’s about time we don’t have to wait for good things to come to us anymore.”
Dazai tensed. It had been only a little over two months since the defeat of the DOA, and the city was still trying to settle back into some form of normalcy. Everyone was still on edge with this tentative peace, and the ADA had been flooded with false alarms and reports.
Kunikida had been tasked with the brunt of the paperwork while also acting as the representative for the agency with government officials seeking to prevent something like this from ever occurring again.
The urge for things to return to normal was so strong nobody in the agency ever spoke about the horrors all of them were forced to face, but things had changed. There was a darkness in everyone’s eyes which hadn’t existed before. Even Kenji didn’t come away entirely unscathed.
Yet in the midst of all this, Kunikida remained steady. He was the agency’s rock. As the second highest ranking member of the ADA, everyone looked to Kunikida for guidance and relied on him to hold the agency together, but nobody ever thought about what Kunikida was also recovering from.
Kunikida let out a dry chuckle, “Good things have already come to us. Us being able to be here right now is a gift.” He paused, and a complicated expression crossed his face. “When I woke in that bed after fighting the Hunting Dogs and saw what became of my hands, I didn’t even consider all that I might have lost. I just kept thinking about the rest of the agency. Even if Yosano couldn’t have healed me, I reasoned it would have all been worth it for them.”
Ango just stares at Kunikida in understanding. He was there when Kunikida returned to Anne’s Room. The man remained strictly professional, and had a sole-minded focus on planning to take down the DOA once and for all.
Kunikida lifts his hand from the pole and stares at it with a furrow to his brow. “It was not until the President asked me about this trip that I realized how close I came to losing this. All the paperwork and slow fishing days in the world do not matter to me, so long as I can be here to experience it.”
He returned his hand to the pole and gave it a shallow tug. Ango let out a low hum in understanding. Dazai stood silently stunned at the conversation.
Ango opened his mouth to speak once more, and Dazai leaned forward in interest. “It’s slightly strange that you haven’t caught anything yet. The conditions seem perfect today for a great catch. What kind of bait are you using?” Ango asked.
They lost him again. Dazai let out a silent sigh and placed his camera back in its carrier. At least he got those initial photos. He turned back to the entrance of the pier while Kunikida began telling Ango, in great detail, about the local bait shop close to the agency headquarters that offers the exact bait that Kunikida swears by.
He had only walked a couple of meters before he heard a loud gasp from behind him and a yell of, “Mackerel!”
Dazai’s shoulders immediately tensed against his will. Even though the voice was wrong, after finding out that his partner and ex-friend met up every year to go fishing, the concept of his ex-partner and current partner becoming more than acquaintances was hardly far-fetched.
Dazai had the horrifying image of Chuuya and Kunikida becoming friends and doing something detestably boring like going antique hunting and talking about their shared annoyance with one Dazai Osamu.
His spiralling was interrupted by a loud splash and an even louder laugh. He whipped around to find Kunikida standing with a large mackerel in his hands and his head thrown back in laughter. Ango was standing to the side, huffing as he tried to wipe the sea water from his suit.
Kunikida’s laughter echoed down the entire pier, and Dazai had never seen his partner show such unrestrained joy. Dazai didn’t even consider reaching for his camera. All he could do was stare in barely concealed awe.
The sound of the waves crashing against the pier knocked him out of his daze. Dazai shook his head and turned around.
Kunikida deserved one day of peace.
-
The next day, Dazai actually showed up to work at a reasonable time. If that wasn’t already a miracle enough, he silently went to his desk and began catching up on the mountain of paperwork he’d tried to pass off on Atsushi.
While the rest of the agency was attempting to pick their jaws off the ground, Ranpo simply raised an eyebrow, “See anything interesting yesterday, Dazai?”
“Nope. I simply met an ethereal beauty who told me about a form of suicide which involves boring yourself to death.”
It may have appeased the rest of the agency, but Ranpo chose to turn to Kunikida instead, “Kunikida!”
Kunikida lifted his head from his own mountain of paperwork. He’d only been gone for a day, and the pile had taken over his entire desk. It did not matter, though. He’d already worked through over 60% of the whole stack before lunch.
“Yes, Ranpo?”
“I was just curious how your day off was,” Ranpo said nonchalantly while opening up a new piece of candy from his stash in his desk.
Kunikida seemed shocked to be asked, but the tension visibly drained from his body as a small smile graced his features. “It was really, really nice. I look forward to next year.”
He went back to his work, and that seemed to be the end of it. If one were to look really closely, though, there was a small smile on Kunikida’s face for the rest of the day that no amount of paperwork or lazy coworkers could diminish.