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The sun had long set over Yokohama, casting a deep, somber blue over the Armed Detective Agency's office. The soft hum of electric lights filled the air, occasionally punctuated by the rustle of paperwork and the distant sounds of the city. Kunikida Doppo sat at his desk, eyes narrowed and shoulders tense, absorbed in the task of organizing the day's reports. Across the room, Osamu Dazai lounged carelessly in his chair, his usually mischievous eyes oddly subdued.
Kunikida's irritation simmered beneath the surface. Dazai's antics had always been a source of frustration, but tonight there was something different about him—something unsettling. The usual spark of life in Dazai's eyes seemed dimmer, replaced by a shadow that Kunikida couldn't quite decipher.
Kunikida's thoughts were a whirlwind of contradictions. He prided himself on his logical mind and adherence to order, yet Dazai's unpredictability always managed to throw him off balance. Tonight, however, was different. There was an undercurrent of seriousness in Dazai's demeanor that Kunikida couldn't ignore.
"Are you planning another one of your ridiculous schemes?" Kunikida finally snapped, his pen tapping rhythmically against the desk.
Dazai glanced up, a fleeting smile playing on his lips. "Kunikida-kun, must you always be so serious? Life is too short to be wasted on endless worry.
"Kunikida's frown deepened. Dazai's words, while typically nonsensical, carried a weight that was impossible to dismiss. "You're hiding something," he accused, his voice low and edged with concern.
For a moment, Dazai's mask slipped. His eyes grew distant, and he seemed to shrink into himself. "Maybe I am," he murmured, almost to himself.
Kunikida couldn't stand it any longer. He pushed back his chair and strode across the room, stopping inches away from Dazai. "Enough with the games, Dazai. What's going on?"
Dazai looked up, his usual playfulness replaced by a rare vulnerability. "Do you really want to know, Kunikida-kun?"
The sincerity in Dazai's voice caught Kunikida off guard. Before he could respond, Dazai stood, and for a brief moment, they were eye to eye, equals in the shared silence. Then, Dazai attempted to step around him, but Kunikida's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.
In the struggle, Dazai stumbled forward, and Kunikida instinctively reached out to steady him. His hand pressed against Dazai's chest, and in that instant, he felt it—a heartbeat, rapid and fragile, echoing with a silent desperation.
Kunikida froze, his mind racing. The heartbeat beneath his fingers was a stark reminder of Dazai's humanity, his mortality. Dazai's usual facade of indifference and cheerfulness seemed to crumble away, leaving behind a young man teetering on the edge of life and death.
"Dazai..." Kunikida's voice was barely a whisper, laden with a mix of shock and concern.
Dazai's eyes met his, a flicker of pain and resignation within their depths. "It's not easy, Kunikida-kun," he said softly. "Living when every part of you longs for the void."
Kunikida's grip tightened, not out of anger, but out of a desperate need to hold on to this fleeting moment of truth. "You don't have to face it alone," he said, his tone firm yet gentle.
Dazai gave a bitter smile. "And what would you do, Kunikida-kun? Save me from myself?"
"If that's what it takes," Kunikida replied without hesitation. "You're part of this team, Dazai. We look out for each other, no matter what."
The sincerity in Kunikida's words seemed to reach Dazai. For a moment, the mask of indifference fell away completely, leaving behind a young man fighting a silent battle. And in that heartbeat, Kunikida saw not the reckless fool, but a comrade in pain.
As the tension between them eased, Kunikida slowly released his hold on Dazai, though the memory of that fragile heartbeat lingered. They stood in silence, the weight of their unspoken understanding hanging in the air.
Kunikida returned to his desk, the reports forgotten. He couldn't shake the image of Dazai's haunted eyes or the echo of his heartbeat. It was a reminder that even the strongest among them could be fighting battles unseen.
In the quiet of the office, Kunikida resolved to be more vigilant, more understanding. Dazai's struggle was far from over, but perhaps, with time and support, he might find a reason to keep fighting.
As Kunikida glanced over at Dazai, who had resumed his usual carefree demeanor, he felt a newfound respect for his enigmatic partner. Beneath the layers of mischief and madness lay a heart that, despite everything, still beat with a stubborn will to live.
And in that shared heartbeat, Kunikida found hope.