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Even No Longer Human has its limits. The most obvious is that ‘environmental’ abilities aren’t completely nullified by Dazai without finding the source. If an ability gathers clouds that cast deep shadows on the city, the darkness is technically a side effect and Dazai will have trouble reaching the clouds to get rid of them. If all of Yokohama is under a fog, Dazai’s presence doesn’t destroy the fog when he walks through it, only prevent him from being subject to its worse effects.
If an ability user chooses to throw all of Yokohama back four years ago, then Dazai won’t remain behind, because there isn’t a ‘Yokohama of the present’ to remain in.
Dazai has to wonder why four years ago specifically. He’s too intelligent to assume the reason automatically involves him, because there are plenty of rogue ability users who do not give a damn about him or the turning points in his life except as it involves them being arrested.
He should check the bad ends of town, before the Mafia had a permit to control all of the city’s unsavory elements. He should visit the detective agency before he was ever a part of it. He should observe the government’s reaction to the chaos of the population of the entire city coming in from the future.
He should do anything but open the door to Lupin’s.
Odasaku is there. He looks exactly as Dazai recalls him: calm expression, a hint of stubble, glass of whiskey in his hand. At the moment, neither Ango nor the Dazai of this era have joined him.
Dazai swallows hard, and takes a seat next to Oda. He forces a lightness into his voice when he says, “Yo, Odasaku. Ango’s not here tonight?”
Oda shakes his head. After a moment, he says, “You’re not the Dazai I know.”
“…No.” Dazai can’t do anything but chuckle at being seen through so quickly. “So that information has passed down to the lower ranks already? Amazing how efficient the mafia is during a crisis.”
“There aren’t instructions from the higher-ups yet, but everyone knows the gist of what’s happening. I don’t know exactly what the difference between you two is. But…” Oda glances away. “You have more light in your eyes.”
Less than a minute with the Oda of four years ago, and he’s already reminded Dazai of how well Oda could read him without trying. Dazai opens his mouth to speak.
Oda’s phone rings. He picks up. “It’s Oda. …Oh, Dazai?”
Fuck.
“Yes, I know. Your double is here at Lupin’s. …Understood. I’ll keep him here.” Oda hangs up. “Sorry. Where were we?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not meet that Dazai,” Dazai says, rising from his seat.
Oda frowns. “I do mind. Sorry.”
“Please?” Dazai says. It’s not a word he used in earnest very much back then, or one he uses much back now. But if there’s anyone he wants to avoid from four years ago, it’s the Dazai still in the mafia.
It’s not that he’s worried about one of them killing the other. It’s just that he can’t stand to look at that bottomless pit from the outside.
Oda hesitates. Dazai sees ‘okay’ hover on his tongue, but in the end he shakes his head. “…I told the other Dazai I would keep you here until he arrived. I don’t know what he wants to discuss with you, but I don’t want to go back on my word.”
Of course. Because Oda is just that kind of person, who doesn’t need to know what Dazai’s goal is to want to help him achieve it.
There isn’t any reason Dazai couldn’t escape. Oda is stronger than him physically, but unwilling to harm Dazai in any serious way, and Dazai knows Oda well enough to know he recovers quickly. Dazai’s a master at slipping out of restraints. And if he wanted to, before Gide even appeared and wooed Oda into double suicide, Dazai could just-
That would be a murder-suicide. Oda wouldn’t harm Dazai, but Dazai couldn’t find it in him to harm Oda either. Not now.
He waits.
Dazai doesn’t remember his visible eye looking so dead when he saw it in the mirror back then. He remembers the blankness of his expression, but not the resemblance to a walking corpse.
“Dazai of four years in the future,” the other greets him. Not with surprise, nor excitement, nor confusion, nor anger. It’s just a hello.
“Dazai of four years ago,” Dazai replies. Oda remains by his side; the bartender and other patrons have long since found reasons to be elsewhere. “You’ll ruin your depth perception covering a perfectly good eye.”
“You’ll ruin a perfectly good position by leaving the mafia.” Dazai doesn’t verbally respond, but the other takes something in his silence as confirmation. “It’s interesting that you came here first. Most of the civilians went to the government agencies, or to their family homes; the mafia reported to the boss or were quickly found by our agents. But you chose to come here instead.”
The past Dazai’s expression is no longer empty, but filled with a bitterness that Dazai only rarely summoned up in that era.
“There isn’t an ‘Odasaku of four years in the future’ in this city. Why is that?”
Beside him, Oda stiffens, but all Dazai can think of is blood on his hands and being late, late, too late-
He forces a thin smile. “What do you think? No one is safe in our line of work. Is it really that surprising?”
That Dazai studies him for a moment, before grabbing onto Oda’s arm.
Surprise registers onto Oda’s face. “Dazai, what-?”
“It’s his fault.” The younger Dazai’s voice is as cold as a traitor sunk to the bottom of the river. “Or he blames himself for your death. Either way, he can’t have you.”
Dazai doesn’t know when he became so transparent, but that’s a thought for later. Right now, he grabs onto Oda’s other arm. “You don’t appreciate him until it’s too late.”
“You want to pretend you never lost him in the first place.”
“If you’d been even a little more honest with him none of this would have happened-”
“Dazai!” Oda snaps. Both Dazais go quiet. “Please let go of me.” They let go, looking the tiniest bit embarrassed about having played tug of war with him. “I don’t know how long the future Dazai is going to be here, but for now you can both share me.”
The Dazais look at each other. Mafia Dazai is the first one to speak. “If that’s what would make you satisfied, Odasaku…”
“I suppose I could stand to share.” It’ll kill Dazai to keep looking at his younger self, but it would destroy him to keep his hands off of Odasaku entirely when he can reach out and touch him.
Oda is about to say something when the other Dazai nips lightly at his neck. Oda’s face goes pink. “…That’s not what I meant.”
“That doesn’t mean ‘no’, Odasaku,” Dazai replies, sliding a hand underneath Oda’s shirt.
Oda breathes in deeply. “Not here.”
‘Not here’ is fair: while Dazai can’t say he regrets the times he got handsy with Oda in the bar (especially now that this is no longer an option), he acknowledges that the bar owner had the patience of a saint for putting up with it, even from an executive. Besides, it’s been so long since he was in Oda’s apartment that he’s almost afraid he’s forgotten what it looks like.
He needn’t have worried, he realizes when they arrive: there’s not much to forget in the first place. The bare essentials, bookshelves stuffed with novels of all kinds, and that’s about it. Even the bedsheets are plain white.
Odasaku makes as stunning a picture against those sheets as he always did, and his soft groans when Dazai pulls his shirt off and presses kisses to his stomach are as beautiful as ever. Dazai crops his younger self out of his mental frame, uninterested in his expression as Oda slides his hands over his bandages.
Over, because not once did Dazai let him see what lied beneath. Even knowing the kind of person Oda was, Dazai couldn’t trust him that much.
In a fit of - jealousy? regret? madness? - Dazai starts to unwind the bandages from his arms. That gets Oda’s attention: even more so the scars and bruises underneath, the ones he’s seeing for the first time. Oda’s sudden inhale is the sharpest reaction Dazai’s seen from him outside of those last few days.
The younger Dazai seethes: they can’t stand to have their weakness revealed without their permission. It is their shared weakness: some of these marks were acquired in the past four years, but more tell stories of his youth or his life in the mafia.
Knowing that, it doesn’t surprise Dazai when his other self pulls Oda into a fierce kiss. As a temporary distraction, it works beautifully. Oda’s eyes shut tight, the way they always did when Dazai kissed him with that intensity.
For those two, it isn’t past tense.
More than a small pang of jealousy has Dazai pulling off Oda’s pants and underwear while he’s still kissing Dazai’s younger self. Oda lifts each leg to help him get them all the way off without even breaking the kiss.
Dazai grabs the lube - thankfully he remembers where it is, he doesn’t think he could bear to ask - and slicks up his fingers.
He doesn’t need to ask how gentle Oda prefers it, doesn’t need to ask when he can take two fingers, and-
“Dazai!”
-definitely doesn’t need to ask how to make Oda cry out in pleasure. Dazai smirks at having overwhelmed Oda enough to stop kissing the mafia version of him.
The other Dazai meets his gaze for a moment, a challenge in his eyes, then focuses again on Oda. “Odasaku~ I’m feeling a little neglected…”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Oda, earnest as ever, sets to drawing the other Dazai’s cock out of his pants. Even when Dazai adds a third finger and rubs continuously against that spot that made him moan, Oda doesn’t let the assault of pleasure keep him from wrapping his lips around the cock in front of him.
If it were anyone else on the other end of Oda, Dazai would have killed them for daring to touch Oda in front of him. But since it’s technically himself, and he’d rather not experiment with causing a time paradox, nothing can be done about it. Dazai slides his fingers out.
It doesn’t take long for Dazai to pull off the remaining clothes in the way and prepare himself, but in that time, the mafia Dazai threads his fingers through Oda’s hair, purring, “You’re so good to me… My Odasaku.”
Mine, mine, mine. Something Dazai doesn’t want to lose. He should know better than to take it for granted.
Dazai doesn’t say any of that. He just lines himself up with Oda and pushes inside.
Oda never needs much time to adjust, even when Dazai’s trying to be gentle. It’s lucky, because Dazai couldn’t possibly stay still for long, not when it’s been so many years and not when he sees Odasaku eager to please his foolish younger self. When Dazai starts to thrust, it’s forceful enough to push Oda further down the other Dazai’s cock.
Dazai doesn’t know what Oda’s thinking, in between their tug of war once again. He’s never loud even when his mouth isn’t occupied. His hips rock back into Dazai’s thrusts, and from the groans the other Dazai is letting out he’s eager on that end as well. There’s no question of his enjoying it, even if how hard his untouched cock is wasn’t sign enough.
But this precious man never realized how much he was wanted, not even at the end. What does he think of being fought over?
“Odasaku, Odasaku…”
It’s hard to distinguish the two Dazai’s voices from each other, not when their voice hasn’t changed in four years and not when there’s only one thing worth saying. Even timing doesn’t help when a hard thrust accompanies a hard suck.
Maybe Oda doesn’t know who he’s pleasing more. Maybe it doesn’t matter to him: they’re both Dazai. The hand that snakes around his front to stroke his cock is Dazai. The name that’s muffled as Oda comes is Dazai.
When Dazai comes, it’s intense enough that he isn’t sure whether he or the other Dazai came first. One moment the other Dazai has a vice grip on Oda’s hair as he approaches the edge, the next Oda is cleaning his cock off with his tongue. Dazai should pull out as well, but… a minute longer.
Let him stay connected to Oda for a minute longer.
Oda turns his head just enough to look at him. “Dazai.” His voice is raw from his throat’s rough treatment.
“Yes~? Did I get better?” Dazai’s exhausted, but if he knows anything about himself it’s that it’s too dangerous not to wear your mask around any version of him.
“Whatever happens in the future… I forgive you for it.”
And yet, how can Dazai keep up the cheerful facade when Oda says that to him? Something stings at the corner of his eyes - his tear ducts are so unused that it takes him a second to realize the cause.
The other Dazai watches, silent, expression unreadable… to anybody but Dazai. Seeing a tear on your own face, for Dazai, is the same as seeing some hideous alien thing there for anyone else. Even Dazai wouldn’t know how to react.
“…Odasaku...” Finally Dazai pulls out, only because he needs to set a hand gently on Oda’s cheek. There’s no blood. It isn’t too late to change things.
He isn’t so attached to the present that he’s afraid to ruin it. Not when an opportunity to change the past presents itself. If ‘he’ disappeared because of intervening, then that would be a wonderful suicide.
“You’re planning something,” Oda says. “Are you staying?”
“Doubtful,” Dazai says. It’s possible, but it’s too easy to happen to him. “But I know you two don’t mind spoilers.”
“Only with novels,” Oda replies.
“Let’s hear it,” the other Dazai says, finally recovering from his state of shock. Feelings are hard, strategy is simple. That much hasn’t changed.
So Dazai lets them hear it, in as much detail as he possibly can. Oda goes pale when he mentions the fate of the children, and the other Dazai sets a hand on his shoulder.
Maybe this won’t make a difference. Maybe Dazai’s foolish for even trying to fix things. Maybe there just isn’t any way for Oda to live, and any new timeline is automatically a worse one.
But maybe there is.