Chapter Text
I – it
“Won’t you stay with me?”
Writhing wind, a maelstrom of cracking thunder and cackling lightning. Charcoal skies illuminated, whistling morbid eerie.
Raindrops where once were hands.
Water where once the scorn of barbed wire enclosures,
where once the lacerations of past painted rail-thin wrists.
Too small to be 18, too old for—
Won’t you stay with me?
18. It thinks that’s how old it is. It is 18 and its name is Pet.
Pet. No.
No.
No, he told him—
He said--
He is 18, and his name was Shūji, was Pet, is now…
Everything hurts as empty stomachs protest in waves of nausea. As hunger yearns, a craving to which they refute succumbing.
Because,
because.
Because he said they don’t need it and if he said—
they don’t need it they don’t need it they don’t need it
he doesn’t—
He’s not hungry.
But the world, it tilts. Lithe fingers and legs tremble as he leans on his side, until skinny unfed bodies are doubled-over, dry-heaving their emptiness, thrashing in the putridness of self.
He is 18, they are an ex-Pet, and he is certain they will finally die.
--
It doesn’t die. They don’t die.
“What is it?”
They twitch at the sound, at uncertainty marinating in a young, innocent tremor.
“I think you mean, who?” The echo of a voice older and perhaps wiser, denoted by its correction.
“Wait, that’s a—”
“Atsushi,” the older voice is strict in execution, “be very careful and bring him—them inside.” The voice repeats itself, “Be very careful. Ordinarily I would advise against moving a body in such a state before Yosano-sensei has had a chance to examine them, but we need to get them out of the storm.”
The boy, Atsushi, furrows his brow in deep-seeded confusion, “Is it really that bad?”
A nod.
“Yes. They’re frail and for all we know, they’ve been out here for days. They could get hypothermia.”
There is this sensation
this feeling of fingers
this touch
this
the touch that’s not—
Won’t you stay with me?
Lips dry and cracked, caked with blood and dirt, barely part at the attempts of a word,
the phrase that trickles out
the lifeline
the name of his everything
his everything that he’s left behind that he’s
“Did…did you say something?” Atsushi’s voice is small and kind and no-longer-Pet, no-longer- Shūji thinks they like it.
But kind and like burn far worse than any match upon brittle skin and
Everything is black.
--
“They’re severely dehydrated,” the Agency doctor begins her assessment, “equally malnourished. It’s a good thing you brought them here when you did, I don’t know how much longer they would have made it out there. You said you found them in an alleyway?”
Atsushi nods, fidgeting as Kunikida speaks.
“Yes, we were returning from our mission when Atsushi noticed something suspicious on the ground. Upon further inspection, I deemed them to be a child—perhaps a young adult at oldest.”
Yosano nodded, agreeing with the sentiment.
“They’ll remain under surveillance until they wake up. Has the President been informed?”
“Y-yes,” Atsushi stumbled, “I ran into Ranpo-san who said he’d take care of it.”
Yosano returned her attention to the patient. She’d done her best to clean their wounds, wiping them down and removing the layers of dirt and blood caked on a half-bandaged torso. The scars were nasty, risen and paled with age, others fresh and oozing, the possibility of an infection nearly inevitable. Tenderly, she salved the burns and cuts, placing antibiotics on nearly every sliver of visible skin.
“What do you think happened to them?” Atsushi’s voice was quieter than before.
“I don’t know,” she answered, “they’re covered in abnormal injuries—as if they were tortured. Escaping something…”
“Like the Port Mafia?” Kunikida’s deep timbre interjected.
“Potentially. Though we won’t know anything for sure until they wake up.”
Attention is returned to the body. Its skin is somewhat clean. Sunken, closed eyes scrunched and dark hair matted. Their cheekbones jutted, mimicked by clavicle and jaw. Sallow skin tinged blue, bated breaths and a hollow visage, the embodiment of empty. Everything about this being screamed unhealthy.
“Um, Yosano-sensei?” Atsushi asked. She lifted an eyebrow. “Why haven’t you used your ability to heal them yet?”
She clicked her tongue at the question.
“They’re an unusual case, that’s for sure,” she began, “Thou Shalt Not Die has no effect on them.”
“What!?”
Kunikida pursed his lips, “Very odd indeed. Perhaps some sort of nullification ability?”
“Bingo,” the voice of the World’s Greatest Detective™ occupied everyone’s focus. “This kid nullifies any ability that touches them. Meaning even if Yosano-sensei doesn’t touch them directly—”
“It still won’t work,” Yosano finished.
Ranpo unwrapped a strawberry lollipop, shoving it into his mouth.
“We’ll keep them in the infirmary for the foreseeable future,” Yosano continued, “if they are on the run from someplace like the Port Mafia, it’s not safe to transfer them to a hospital unless absolutely necessary. For now, I’ll stay the night—”
“We’re keeping watch,” Ranpo interrupted, “so you can go home and get some rest.”
“But—”
“Oh shush, you know better than to argue with me~”
Yosano sighed at the protest, mumbling a brief, “Why do I even bother?” before her concession. “Okay, fine. I’ll prepare their medications while you decide our watch schedule.”
The team divided into six-hour shifts, Yosano taking the first, followed by Atsushi, then Jun'ichirō. Kunikida would remain on-call for back-up if a physical altercation were to arise, as Yosano would stay on-call for medical necessity.
“Alright,” the doctor addressed the entirety of the Agency members involved in the ad-hoc mission, “ground rules. Absolutely no touching the patient for any reason other than administering medication or physical restraint if they are a danger to themselves or others. If you think they’re about to wake up, contact me immediately. Please use the bathroom before and after your shift, as it is imperative you do not leave them alone. Whatever this person has experienced, it’s clear they’ve suffered severe, recent trauma and we must be mindful,” the group nodded in understanding. She continued, “They’re malnourished to the point of concern, so I’ve hooked them up to an IV with fluids and nutrients. Weight restoration is very finicky, so if they wake up please do not give them food without my clearance. Does everyone understand?”
--
Won’t you stay with me?
Won’t you stay with me?
Won’t you—
They awoke, sudden and petrified.
It was cold despite itchy blankets on fresh bandages on—
Their bandages were fresh.
Which meant
which meant someone
someone had to
They had to find him.
They had to
they
they had
They screamed. Kicked and thrashed and pulled at IVs and wires and
and there were hands
there were hands
there were hands
there were hands
they were on him
and words there were words.
“You’re okay.”
“You’re safe.”
“Everything will be okay.”
They repeated, a broken record of voices unknown.
Or rather, voice. Just one.
Clear and confident, warm and gentle, yet bristling with a chill with a—
just like—
Odasaku?
The name comes to mind.
The name appears behind and and suddenly he’s
Calm?
A wash of calm
of blue
of ocean, sea waves of gentle of the calm before the storm because he thinks this is it—
they are the storm and they are too, the calm.
--
“No it’s really fine, I’m heading over—”
“Nope!” From the safety of dinosaur pajamas and rainbow hard candies, Ranpo lectured the doctor over the phone, “Atsushi is there, he can handle this. You need your rest.”
“But I—”
“No but’s! There’s no use arguing with the World’s Greatest Detective™.”
“Ranpo—”
“Trust me on this one. You’ll need all the strength you can get tomorrow when we question them.”
She knew he was right.
Besides, the sedative she had Atsushi administer was a significant dose. They shouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.
Tomorrow would be harder.
“Hey, um, can I ask you something?” She hesitated for a moment, then, “With your Ultra Deduction—do you have any idea what happened to this kid? I have a feeling we’re not going to get much out of them tomorrow.”
There was a pause, solemn.
“They’re hard to read.”
That was a first.
“R-really??” Uncharacteristically, she stuttered.
“Yeeeeeep,” Ranpo trilled on the other end, “it’s weird and I don’t understand it myself. I’ve never met someone Ultra Deduction has had this much trouble seeing through.”
“That’s insane!” Yosano cried, incredulous, “You can’t see anything at all?”
“Well, I suppose I do have a hunch, as you plebeians call it.”
She rolled her eyes, “Okay then…?”
“It involves the Port Mafia.”
“Shit…” she whispered under her breath.
The doctor chewed her lip.
“Thanks. I’ll keep this in mind tomorrow. I better be careful with the drugs I administer,” she then muttered, “if they’re involved, their tolerance is probably skewed.”
“Go to sleep Akiko-chan! I’m tired!”
“Right. Thanks again Ranpo-san. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Byyyeeeeeeeeeeee!”
The phone hung up with a click.
Violet eyes and racing minds refused to shut, despite best efforts.
She flipped open her laptop.
Three hours passed before she was jolted awake by the sound of ringing.
Atsushi.
Sitting up from her incredibly uncomfortable sleeping position hunched over her laptop, she answered the phone on its third ring.
“Yosano-sensei!” Atsushi called out, relief swaddling an anxious tone.
“Atsushi,” Yosano greeted curtly, “what’s wrong?”
“It’s the patient—they’re,” Atsushi cursed under his breath at the sound of a crash, “they woke up and started throwing up. They’re dry-heaving and now there’s blood—”
“Jesus, they woke up? Fuck. Okay. Stay there and do your best to keep them calm. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
“Okay. I-I’ll do my best!”
The phone clicked.
--
The patient was doubled over on all fours, nearly avoiding a pile of sick.
They coughed violently, flinching at Atsushi’s attempts at comfort.
Yosano burst through the doors, sedative and syringe ready, medical kit ready—
They howled. Screamed and shrieked and—
It was a name.
Yosano stiffened.
“What did you just say?”
They wriggled on the ground.
“Sensei, I think they need—”
“Atsushi, what did they say?”
Her heart is pounding
her ears are pounding
everything is racing her vision is dotting black and—
“I don’t know,” Atsushi responds, lip trembling with worry, “but I think they’re really sick. I think—”
The kid starts seizing.
“Shit,” Yosano cursed, forcing her way out of the spell that had been cast upon her, the spell created by sounds disturbingly similar to that of his name—
“Don’t touch them,” she instructs, “but move anything sharp or hard that can hurt them. I’ll place a pillow under them.”
Atsushi followed her instructions as Yosano grabbed soft things, very quickly sliding them under the seizing frame.
A few moments of terse, tense silence.
The seizing stops. They laid on the floor, passed out.
Despite protests, Yosano stayed for the rest of the night. It’s not like she could have slept even if she wanted.
There were rumors. Recent ones.
Ones of—
But it couldn’t be that.
No.
He wouldn’t—
A groan startles her. She stands up, approaching quickly and cautiously.
The groan sounds more like a name than—
“Oda…saku…”
Her brow furrows. That’s a new one.
The kid was assumed too weak to be a threat and Atsushi was dismissed.
Yosano attempts to take notes as they mutter incoherence in their half-asleep state. Eavesdropping on someone’s sleep-talking isn’t the nicest thing to do, but desperate times and all.
They murmur words and phrases, equal parts disjointed and disconcerting.
“‘m sorry…Odasaku…” they choke out as obsidian eyes flick open. They can’t breathe.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright, you’re safe,” Yosano placates. The anti-anxiety medicine she administered after their seizure must not have been strong enough, as the kid’s pulse races.
“No—no!” They yell.
“What are you saying no to?” She asks, gently.
“I don’t…” their face crumples, “I don’t know. I don’t—Odasaku. I need Odasaku!”
Won’t you stay with me?
They slam their hands over their ears, screeching.
“Who’s—” Yosano attempts to speak over the grating shriek, “Who is Odasaku?”
To her surprise, the kid freezes. Shaky hands are lifted off of pale ears as silence ensues. The kid sticks out their tongue at her.
She scoffs at the gesture, supremely confused, “Excuse me?”
They shake their head in a disturbingly quick return to a regulated state, “You don’t call him that.”
She laughs in disbelief. “Okay then…what can I call him?”
They ponder.
“Oda.”
“Alright,” Yosano smiled, a kind little thing, “who is Oda?”
“Friend.”
She nods, taking notes. “And who are you?”
They flinch.
“Do you have a name?”
They flinch again.
Thing.
It.
Disgusting
failure
fake
gross
Pet—
“I don’t…” their eyes dart around, “can he hear? Where is he?”
“Who?” Yosano looks around, cautious, “Oda?”
They shake their head aggressively, “Him.”
“I’m sorry,” Yosano replies, soft, “I don’t know who you’re asking about. Was it the kid who was here before, Atsushi—”
“M—” they begin, then twitch, “sensei. Sensei doesn’t. He doesn’t. My—my name…he, he doesn’t—”
They stutter, uttering nonsensical gibberish for a few minutes.
As the incoherent mumbling subsided, Yosano attempted a few more questions.
“Do you know how old you are?”
They tilted their head, counting inwardly.
“18.”
She blinks.
18? They looked no older than a young teenager—
“O-okay,” she stutters, taking note in her notepad, “and what pronouns do you use?”
They frown.
“Like, what do you like to be called? He/him? She/her? They/them?”
“It.”
It’s as if the air left the room.
“Is that…is that what you like to be called?” She prods, soft once more.
They contemplate.
“Sensei calls me that.”
This time, she flinches. She was seriously starting to hate his “sensei.”
“What about…” she paused, alight with an idea, “what about your friend Oda? What does he call you?”
The kid perked up.
“He! He or they. Or um. Dazai. He called me Dazai! Dazai Osamu!! He— because I like how it—” their happiness was fleeting, a momentary occurrence. “Odasaku…” their lip trembled, “I’m…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t I didn’t mean to—to leave I was I just I was—” they couldn’t breathe
they couldn’t breathe
they couldn’t breathe
they—
“It’s okay, Dazai. It’s okay, breathe.”
It was dark.
Its cage was small.
Too small. It crouched over, huddled in on itself to fit.
If only it could be smaller…smaller like it was before.
It stared at its body.
It bit.
Dazai bit his arm hard. Yosano winced at the sight.
“Here,” she grabbed a fidget from her desk, one that was malleable, “grab this instead. Don’t bite yourself.”
He maintained eye contact, refusing to let go of his arm.
There wasn’t blood, but the bandages were beginning to tear.
“Dazai,” she pleaded.
She sounded familiar,
so much like—
“Dazai, don’t bite yourself. You can eat, it’s okay.”
He was crying, but there were no tears.
“You’re allowed to eat. I promise.”
He missed Oda.
Their eyes well, red and hurting.
Yosano approached gingerly, kindly, with care.
“I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
Maybe
maybe they could just—
He snarled.
No. They couldn’t. They couldn’t relax. Not here. Not with—
Something impossibly plush brushed against their cheek.
“Do you like toys, Dazai?” Yosano asked, holding up a large bunny rabbit plushie.
It tickled his arm.
The younger one reached out, touching it with a sense of foreignness, warily caressing it’s exceptionally smooth coat.
They stopped biting their arm.
“Soft,” he whispered aloud.
“It is soft, isn’t it?” Yosano smiled. Her smile was like the plushie.
Soft.
Dazai didn’t look like he knew what to do with himself, holding the toy at arms’ length as they pet its right ear.
“You can hug it if you want,” Yosano suggested.
He did as she described.
For the first time since waking, something was different about him. He looked…
Alive.
The tiniest twinkle sparked their eye, only disappearing as they closed them, inhaling the scent of soft soft soft.
With the plushie, things seemed to go smoother. They behaved, answering more questions than before. They cooperated for the rest of the morning.
In the afternoon, things took a turn.
“Alright, lunchtime,” Yosano smiled brightly. “I don’t want to overwhelm your system, but we can give you a small portion of—”
“No.”
“You can’t have too much because of—”
“No.”
“What are you saying ‘no’ to?” She narrowed her eyes, face graced with confusion.
“No!” The younger one pushed.
“Dazai,” she spoke in a motherly tone, “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”
“No! No no no no no! No!”
They were getting absolutely nowhere.
“Is everything okay in here—”
The screaming young adult paused as Atsushi entered the room. Their eyes grew wide and mouth clamped shut.
“Dazai? Are you okay?” Yosano paid the new presence in the room no mind, attention entirely fixated on the odd young adult in front of her.
They curled up into a ball wrapping skinny arms around knobby knees, hiding their head in the process.
“I’ll give you some time to cool down, then we can talk. Okay?”
He said nothing.
“Atsushi? Can you watch him for me while I get some food—”
“NO!” They yelled again, maintaining their furled position. Before either could reply, they began to screech.
“Here do you um, do you want your toy?” Atsushi prodded nervously.
Dazai’s head shot up at the sound of the other’s voice. He froze.
“This is my friend Atsushi,” Yosano introduced them, voice carefully measured, “you met him earlier.”
“Tiger.”
The agency members blinked in unison.
“I um. Yeah. I do transform into a tiger. How did you uh—” Atsushi stared, dumbfounded. “How did you know that?”
They bit their arm again.
“Shit,” Yosano cursed under her breath. “Don’t forget about your bunny,” she coaxed.
Deep, tragically empty eyes bore into lilac.
Dazai bit harder.
The two were at a loss. Though Yosano was a practicing physician and had a good handle on working with patients with mental illness and trauma, she wasn’t a licensed therapist.
“You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry,” she felt as though she were grasping at straws, maybe that had something to do with—
They immediately dropped their arm from their mouth.
“You’re not hungry? That’s what’s wrong?” Atsushi asked, curious.
It doesn’t eat.
They shake their head.
“We won’t force you to eat if you’re not hungry. But you will need to have something—”
They shook their head harder.
Yosano dropped the subject. She’d deal with that later.
It can’t eat.
Not without permission.
(It never has permission.)
Another hour passes before Yosano brings it up again.
The younger one sits still on the hospital bed, zoning out for the better part of the hour. They stare straight ahead, clinging to the bunny, looking into nothingness.
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now,” Yosano starts, careful, “but you need to have something to eat. Even if it’s just a little.”
They shake their head.
“Can’t.”
It’s much less frantic than before, a sense of dissociation to the word.
“Is it because you’re not hungry?”
They look away.
“He didn’t say I could,” it was a whisper so quiet, Yosano had to strain to hear.
“Who didn’t? Your sensei?”
A small nod.
“What if I gave you permission to eat?”
He glanced up.
“No.”
“What about some broth? It would be light on your stomach—”
“No!”
She dropped the subject.
The cage was small.
Smaller than its normal one.
“Sensei?” It asked.
“Yes, Pet?”
“It’s small. I won’t fit.”
The elder man laughed.
“Of course you will. Give it a try.”
It frowned, but did as it was told. It curled inwards, hunching over to fit in the impossibly small confines of metal bars.
“Hurts,” they whined. “It hurts.”
“Pity,” the man pouted, “something’s getting too big.”
It shrunk in on itself further.
“I must be being overgenerous with your meals. Ah, yes, that must be it,” a glint caught his eyes, maniacal and simpering whispers of a flame, “we won’t make that mistake again.”
--
They fell asleep again before long, despite best efforts.
Yosano couldn’t blame him. She was exhausted.
They switched rotations, Jun'ichirō watching over the sleeping Dazai as Yosano did research in the other room.
There were rumors, back when she was a child.
When she worked under—
Rumors that he wanted someone.
Something.
Google is useless and the Dark Web isn’t the safest to access on the company network, so she takes a break, and diverts her attention to her very late lunch. In the hullabaloo of trying to get Dazai to eat, she herself had forgotten her own meal.
She blew carefully on her noodles, slurping quietly, lost in concentration.
The child—young adult rather—was a handful. More than that.
But she liked him.
Underneath the hurt and trauma and pain, she saw the glimmer of mischief. Someone who challenged those around them and was, most likely, too smart for his own good.
She wondered what happened.
She wondered how they got there.
She wondered.
--
They couldn’t sleep.
Because of that voice
Because Odasaku—
Because sensei—
Because—
Won’t you stay with me?