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Entry tags:
death is the only real elegance
Title: death is the only real elegance
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Character(s): Odasaku, Dazai
Pairing(s): Dazai/Odasaku
Genre: Angst/Fluff/idk
Word Count: 1,660
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Summary: Dazai finds a mortal who amuses him, and Odasaku finds… Dazai.
Notes: Thanks, Tori, for talking about god/mortal AUs!
They say that the god of death toys with humans. He doesn’t always kill them right away - otherwise, where would the stories come from? - but no one has crossed his path without regretting it.
There are those he finds amusing, for a time, and those he kills painlessly once they start to bore him. Then there are those who don’t keep his interest, and he curses them with a terrible illness and wanders off, leaving them to suffer for months before dying.
Death wears bandages without wounds, in a mockery of those who’ve come to be in his grip, and he always smiles. That’s how you’ll recognize him, someone tells Odasaku, and he thanks them for the advice.
Less than a week later, a stranger wrapped in bandages speaks to him on an otherwise abandoned road. “Good evening~” His smile glints in the moonlight.
“Good evening,” Odasaku says, and stops where he is. The thought of running crosses his mind and is discarded for being ridiculous.
The man’s smile broadens. “Do you know who I am?”
Odasaku nods. “You’re Osamu Dazai,” he says, plainly.
“Ne, ne, Odasaku.” It doesn’t surprise Odasaku at all that Dazai knows his name, so it doesn’t garner a flinch from him. Dazai goes on. “If you know that, shouldn’t you be pleading for your life right now? Most people do~”
“Would that work?” Odasaku asks. When Dazai laughs, he adds, “Then it’s pointless.”
“Then, shouldn’t you be running away?” Dazai asks.
“I couldn’t outrun a god,” Odasaku says.
“Aaah, then you must want to die,” Dazai replies, with a satisfied nod as if he’s just figured out the answer to a question that’s been bugging him. “There are more reliable ways than hoping to run into me, you know? For example, there’s a river nearby...”
Odasaku shakes his head. “I want to live - I still have a dream for the future. But if I’ve run into you, then I’m going to die no matter what I do.”
Dazai hums for a moment, then asks, “What is your dream, O~da~sa~ku~?”
Odasaku hesitates for a moment then, only because it’s the first time these words have left his mouth. “I want to become a writer.”
“...That’s it?” Dazai asks, the smile slipping from his face in favor of a confused expression.
“That’s it,” says Odasaku. “It wouldn’t be important to a god, but it’s important to me.”
“So, why haven’t you become a writer already, if it’s that important?” Dazai asks.
Odasaku says, “A killer doesn’t have the qualifications to write about human lives. When I’ve stopped being a killer, then I’ll write.”
“Hm, that’s right, you have killed a lot of people…” Dazai says, almost absent-mindedly. “But Odasaku, you haven’t killed anyone in years. Isn’t that long enough to say you’re ‘not a killer’?”
Odasaku shakes his head.
“When will it be long enough?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. There would be no point in lying to a god even if he were the type of person to lie in the first place.
“Hmmm…” Dazai frowns intensely, then says, “You’re an interesting person, Odasaku. It’d be a shame if I killed you before you stopped amusing me. So, I’ll let you go for now!”
That gets the first surprise out of Odasaku of the encounter, a minute widening of the eyes. “Thank you.”
Dazai laughs at that, and it sounds like genuine cheer. “Now there’s something I don’t hear every day…”
When he blinks, Dazai is gone.
Odasaku doesn’t come down with an illness, so he doesn’t tell people about his meeting with Dazai. No one would believe him, first of all, and second of all he doesn’t talk much about himself to begin with. This doesn’t change much, even if it is the strangest thing to ever happen to him.
He sees Dazai again a year later. Dazai’s sitting on a chair at his table when he arrives home.
“Odasaku!” Dazai says with a wide smile.
“Dazai,” Odasaku says, and then, “I don’t know how you should host a god without being rude. Do you want a sacrifice? I have some chicken, but it’s leftovers.”
Dazai laughs. “No, no, that’s fine! I just came by to talk to you a little, that’s all. Is it time to become a writer yet?”
Odasaku shakes his head.
“When will it be time?”
“I don’t know.”
Dazai sticks his tongue out at him. Odasaku says nothing, pulling out the opposite chair for himself.
“You’re pretty bold,” Dazai says. “You know I could kill you the moment you annoy me, right?”
“I know,” Odasaku answers. “I’m prepared for that.”
“Most people, when they say they’re prepared, really aren’t. But you’re different,” Dazai says. “And that’s why I won’t kill you today either. But I’ll come for you eventually, Odasaku.”
“You come for everyone eventually,” Odasaku replies. “I’m no different there.”
When Dazai disappears this time, Odasaku makes his dinner the rest of the leftover chicken.
Dazai comes again six months later, then three months after that, and then a month and a half after that.
Every time he stops to do a little chatting with Odasaku: nothing substantial, just a tiny bit about Odasaku’s day. Every time he asks Odasaku if it’s time for him to write yet. Every time Odasaku tells him no.
“Are you putting this off so I won’t kill you?” Dazai asks the last time, sounding the tiniest bit annoyed.
Odasaku shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that. It’s too important to me.”
“I can tell you’re telling the truth,” Dazai says, after a moment. “You really are strange, Odasaku.”
Odasaku doesn’t answer that, because he doesn’t agree but he knows better than to outright contradict a god. Instead he says, “Do you want something before you go?”
“Hmm… Well, I wouldn’t mind a drink.”
Odasaku pulls out his best wine and pours them both glasses. When Dazai raises his glass and looks at Odasaku expectantly, Odasaku can’t help but ask, “Don’t you usually say ‘to good health’ when you’re toasting? That wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“It wouldn’t,” Dazai says. “So you pick something else.”
Odasaku thinks it over, then says, “To life and death.”
“I like that. To life and death,” Dazai says, and clinks his glass.
Dazai comes frequently enough to be a not unexpected visitor. He still asks Odasaku about the writing, but doesn’t seem disappointed when Odasaku says no.
One day Odasaku says yes, and Dazai stares at him blankly for a moment.
“I only started yesterday,” Odasaku adds. “I haven’t gotten very far.”
“Hmm…” Dazai rests his chin on his hands. “What made you decide it was time to write, after all these years?”
It’s hard for Odasaku to explain. “I felt differently about it. I can’t go back and undo things I’ve done, but I don’t have to be a killer starting from now.”
“That’s true,” Dazai says, seeming satisfied. “Well! It’d be a waste if you didn’t get to finish what you were writing, so I won’t kill you just yet.”
Odasaku smiles a tiny bit. He doesn’t add: ‘I felt bad about making you wait.’
Odasaku writes. When Dazai visits, he tells him how far he’s gotten, sometimes showing him the manuscript for proof even though Dazai knows whether he’s lying or not. Sometimes he bounces plot ideas off of him.
“Would she really want to keep being with him after he hurt her like that?” Odasaku asks.
Dazai nods. “Humans are stupid! Especially humans in love. And they’re resistant to change, so it’s scarier to think of being alone than to be with someone who hurt her.”
Odasaku taps his pen on his chin. “I see… I thought she would move on, but I’ll have to think about it more. Thank you, Dazai.”
A laugh that seems a touch self-conscious. “You’re the only mortal who’s thanked me in a long, long time, Odasaku.”
Odasaku thinks that’s because Dazai hasn’t spent much time with mortals outside of killing them for a long while, but he knows better than to say that.
“I’m done.”
The book sits on the table between them. Dazai stares at it rather than at Odasaku.
“It’s finished. I had a few copies made for me and my family, and my children are seeing about getting it published,” Odasaku says. “You can have one if you want. ...But you’re here for something else.”
Dazai nods, silent.
“You were going to kill me after I finished it, right? That’s why you kept asking.” Odasaku doesn’t have a hint of sadness or pain in his voice.
“I was, but…” Dazai swallows. “Odasaku. You’re the only mortal who I like this much. You talk to me like I’m anyone else, even though you know exactly how dangerous I am. Talking to you is fun. Drinking with you is fun. You’re - you’re someone I don’t want to die.”
“Dazai…” Odasaku hesitates. “I’m not afraid of dying. I don’t know exactly what it will be like, being dead. I’ve done terrible things, even though I haven’t done any of them lately. ...But I know whatever you give to me is what I deserve, so I can accept that.”
“‘What you deserve’, huh…” Dazai smiles, a weaker one than his usual. “With you being so brave, it’d be insulting not to kill you now. ...Close your eyes.”
Odasaku shuts his eyelids.
There’s no pain. It’s a sensation more like falling than anything else, and then he’s sitting again somewhere a great deal more comfortable than his kitchen chair. He opens his eyes.
It’s dark, and what he can see is mostly the throne he’s sitting on and the one Dazai’s lounging in next to him.
“Stay with me,” Dazai says. “It’s what you deserve.”
Odasaku thinks Dazai isn’t being an impartial judge of the dead right now.
But he looks at the hope in Dazai’s dark eyes, and he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Character(s): Odasaku, Dazai
Pairing(s): Dazai/Odasaku
Genre: Angst/Fluff/idk
Word Count: 1,660
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Summary: Dazai finds a mortal who amuses him, and Odasaku finds… Dazai.
Notes: Thanks, Tori, for talking about god/mortal AUs!
They say that the god of death toys with humans. He doesn’t always kill them right away - otherwise, where would the stories come from? - but no one has crossed his path without regretting it.
There are those he finds amusing, for a time, and those he kills painlessly once they start to bore him. Then there are those who don’t keep his interest, and he curses them with a terrible illness and wanders off, leaving them to suffer for months before dying.
Death wears bandages without wounds, in a mockery of those who’ve come to be in his grip, and he always smiles. That’s how you’ll recognize him, someone tells Odasaku, and he thanks them for the advice.
Less than a week later, a stranger wrapped in bandages speaks to him on an otherwise abandoned road. “Good evening~” His smile glints in the moonlight.
“Good evening,” Odasaku says, and stops where he is. The thought of running crosses his mind and is discarded for being ridiculous.
The man’s smile broadens. “Do you know who I am?”
Odasaku nods. “You’re Osamu Dazai,” he says, plainly.
“Ne, ne, Odasaku.” It doesn’t surprise Odasaku at all that Dazai knows his name, so it doesn’t garner a flinch from him. Dazai goes on. “If you know that, shouldn’t you be pleading for your life right now? Most people do~”
“Would that work?” Odasaku asks. When Dazai laughs, he adds, “Then it’s pointless.”
“Then, shouldn’t you be running away?” Dazai asks.
“I couldn’t outrun a god,” Odasaku says.
“Aaah, then you must want to die,” Dazai replies, with a satisfied nod as if he’s just figured out the answer to a question that’s been bugging him. “There are more reliable ways than hoping to run into me, you know? For example, there’s a river nearby...”
Odasaku shakes his head. “I want to live - I still have a dream for the future. But if I’ve run into you, then I’m going to die no matter what I do.”
Dazai hums for a moment, then asks, “What is your dream, O~da~sa~ku~?”
Odasaku hesitates for a moment then, only because it’s the first time these words have left his mouth. “I want to become a writer.”
“...That’s it?” Dazai asks, the smile slipping from his face in favor of a confused expression.
“That’s it,” says Odasaku. “It wouldn’t be important to a god, but it’s important to me.”
“So, why haven’t you become a writer already, if it’s that important?” Dazai asks.
Odasaku says, “A killer doesn’t have the qualifications to write about human lives. When I’ve stopped being a killer, then I’ll write.”
“Hm, that’s right, you have killed a lot of people…” Dazai says, almost absent-mindedly. “But Odasaku, you haven’t killed anyone in years. Isn’t that long enough to say you’re ‘not a killer’?”
Odasaku shakes his head.
“When will it be long enough?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. There would be no point in lying to a god even if he were the type of person to lie in the first place.
“Hmmm…” Dazai frowns intensely, then says, “You’re an interesting person, Odasaku. It’d be a shame if I killed you before you stopped amusing me. So, I’ll let you go for now!”
That gets the first surprise out of Odasaku of the encounter, a minute widening of the eyes. “Thank you.”
Dazai laughs at that, and it sounds like genuine cheer. “Now there’s something I don’t hear every day…”
When he blinks, Dazai is gone.
Odasaku doesn’t come down with an illness, so he doesn’t tell people about his meeting with Dazai. No one would believe him, first of all, and second of all he doesn’t talk much about himself to begin with. This doesn’t change much, even if it is the strangest thing to ever happen to him.
He sees Dazai again a year later. Dazai’s sitting on a chair at his table when he arrives home.
“Odasaku!” Dazai says with a wide smile.
“Dazai,” Odasaku says, and then, “I don’t know how you should host a god without being rude. Do you want a sacrifice? I have some chicken, but it’s leftovers.”
Dazai laughs. “No, no, that’s fine! I just came by to talk to you a little, that’s all. Is it time to become a writer yet?”
Odasaku shakes his head.
“When will it be time?”
“I don’t know.”
Dazai sticks his tongue out at him. Odasaku says nothing, pulling out the opposite chair for himself.
“You’re pretty bold,” Dazai says. “You know I could kill you the moment you annoy me, right?”
“I know,” Odasaku answers. “I’m prepared for that.”
“Most people, when they say they’re prepared, really aren’t. But you’re different,” Dazai says. “And that’s why I won’t kill you today either. But I’ll come for you eventually, Odasaku.”
“You come for everyone eventually,” Odasaku replies. “I’m no different there.”
When Dazai disappears this time, Odasaku makes his dinner the rest of the leftover chicken.
Dazai comes again six months later, then three months after that, and then a month and a half after that.
Every time he stops to do a little chatting with Odasaku: nothing substantial, just a tiny bit about Odasaku’s day. Every time he asks Odasaku if it’s time for him to write yet. Every time Odasaku tells him no.
“Are you putting this off so I won’t kill you?” Dazai asks the last time, sounding the tiniest bit annoyed.
Odasaku shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that. It’s too important to me.”
“I can tell you’re telling the truth,” Dazai says, after a moment. “You really are strange, Odasaku.”
Odasaku doesn’t answer that, because he doesn’t agree but he knows better than to outright contradict a god. Instead he says, “Do you want something before you go?”
“Hmm… Well, I wouldn’t mind a drink.”
Odasaku pulls out his best wine and pours them both glasses. When Dazai raises his glass and looks at Odasaku expectantly, Odasaku can’t help but ask, “Don’t you usually say ‘to good health’ when you’re toasting? That wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“It wouldn’t,” Dazai says. “So you pick something else.”
Odasaku thinks it over, then says, “To life and death.”
“I like that. To life and death,” Dazai says, and clinks his glass.
Dazai comes frequently enough to be a not unexpected visitor. He still asks Odasaku about the writing, but doesn’t seem disappointed when Odasaku says no.
One day Odasaku says yes, and Dazai stares at him blankly for a moment.
“I only started yesterday,” Odasaku adds. “I haven’t gotten very far.”
“Hmm…” Dazai rests his chin on his hands. “What made you decide it was time to write, after all these years?”
It’s hard for Odasaku to explain. “I felt differently about it. I can’t go back and undo things I’ve done, but I don’t have to be a killer starting from now.”
“That’s true,” Dazai says, seeming satisfied. “Well! It’d be a waste if you didn’t get to finish what you were writing, so I won’t kill you just yet.”
Odasaku smiles a tiny bit. He doesn’t add: ‘I felt bad about making you wait.’
Odasaku writes. When Dazai visits, he tells him how far he’s gotten, sometimes showing him the manuscript for proof even though Dazai knows whether he’s lying or not. Sometimes he bounces plot ideas off of him.
“Would she really want to keep being with him after he hurt her like that?” Odasaku asks.
Dazai nods. “Humans are stupid! Especially humans in love. And they’re resistant to change, so it’s scarier to think of being alone than to be with someone who hurt her.”
Odasaku taps his pen on his chin. “I see… I thought she would move on, but I’ll have to think about it more. Thank you, Dazai.”
A laugh that seems a touch self-conscious. “You’re the only mortal who’s thanked me in a long, long time, Odasaku.”
Odasaku thinks that’s because Dazai hasn’t spent much time with mortals outside of killing them for a long while, but he knows better than to say that.
“I’m done.”
The book sits on the table between them. Dazai stares at it rather than at Odasaku.
“It’s finished. I had a few copies made for me and my family, and my children are seeing about getting it published,” Odasaku says. “You can have one if you want. ...But you’re here for something else.”
Dazai nods, silent.
“You were going to kill me after I finished it, right? That’s why you kept asking.” Odasaku doesn’t have a hint of sadness or pain in his voice.
“I was, but…” Dazai swallows. “Odasaku. You’re the only mortal who I like this much. You talk to me like I’m anyone else, even though you know exactly how dangerous I am. Talking to you is fun. Drinking with you is fun. You’re - you’re someone I don’t want to die.”
“Dazai…” Odasaku hesitates. “I’m not afraid of dying. I don’t know exactly what it will be like, being dead. I’ve done terrible things, even though I haven’t done any of them lately. ...But I know whatever you give to me is what I deserve, so I can accept that.”
“‘What you deserve’, huh…” Dazai smiles, a weaker one than his usual. “With you being so brave, it’d be insulting not to kill you now. ...Close your eyes.”
Odasaku shuts his eyelids.
There’s no pain. It’s a sensation more like falling than anything else, and then he’s sitting again somewhere a great deal more comfortable than his kitchen chair. He opens his eyes.
It’s dark, and what he can see is mostly the throne he’s sitting on and the one Dazai’s lounging in next to him.
“Stay with me,” Dazai says. “It’s what you deserve.”
Odasaku thinks Dazai isn’t being an impartial judge of the dead right now.
But he looks at the hope in Dazai’s dark eyes, and he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.