Chapter Text
"Here are your personal belongings. Get changed." The guard handed Dazai a plastic box without a lid, then turned away.
The brunette placed the box on the floor, took off the overall, and folded it neatly. Then, he put on his old clothes.
The black pants still fit, maybe just a little bit too loose. The white shirt was still as dirty as when he had taken it off a few years ago. The clothes smelled of cellar, not particularly pleasant.
Dazai put on the gray socks, slipped into his shoes. His ID lay lost at the bottom of the box. He stuffed it into his pocket, took the dark blue overall, and placed it back in the plastic box. "I'm done," he said.
The guard turned back to him and took the box. He placed it back on the sterile table.
"Then follow me, please," came the bored voice of the guard. Dazai nodded.
They walked down a long hallway, several electric doors opening before them with a loud buzzing sound.
They reached the end of the hallway. The guard turned to the brunette. "Good luck."
"Thank you." Dazai briefly bowed. Then, the last big door opened.
Sunbeams were shining toward the man. It was warm. Mid-May.
He looked out onto a parking lot. Where should he go now? What should he do now?
Osamu Dazai had served ten years at the Yokohama State Prison. It felt strange to be free again. To be in control of himself once more.
The brunette was now 32 years old. The deep dark circles under his eyes and sunken cheekbones revealed that he had gone through much in those ten years.
But that was all over now. He had a chance to start over. This time, he wanted to do it right.
It was quiet, a few birds sang songs about freedom, about the uncertainty that sometimes comes with it. Only a few cars were parked on the asphalt lot.
Dazai closed his eyes and felt the sun on his skin. It was as if it were kissing him, embracing him. He heard the sound of an engine. A car seemed to be approaching the grounds.
When he opened his eyes again, his assumption was confirmed. A gray Audi pulled up. Dazai's heart stopped when he saw who was behind the wheel.
His hand shot up to cover his mouth. He never expected this. The car stopped, and the man behind the wheel got out. He quickly walked toward the brunette.
"Odasaku-kun!" Dazai threw himself into the man's arms. They hugged for a long time, Oda gently stroked Dazai's back.
When they pulled apart, Dazai discreetly wiped a tear from his face. He looked at his old friend. Odasaku looked more mature. His hair had grown longer, and he exuded a certain calmness.
"It’s been ten years," Oda stated. He handed Dazai a cigarette.
"I don't smoke anymore," the brunette replied.
Surprised, Odasaku put the pack back in his pocket. "Now that you mention it… today is a good day to quit smoking for good."
"I never thought you'd come," Dazai said, still in disbelief. He had assumed he would be completely on his own. No one had visited him.
"A lot of time has passed. I'm sure you've changed. I mean, I can already feel it," Odasaku smiled. It was a warm smile. One that said everything would be okay.
"Thank you for showing up," the brunette thanked him. His eyes were still wet.
Was this really reality? Without a doubt, he wasn’t dreaming.
"When I found out you were being released, I decided it was time to look forward. You’re still my best friend," said the red-haired man, visibly moved by this situation.
Dazai sniffled, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. When his friend embraced him again, it was the first time since he had been admitted that the newly freed man was glad his countless suicide attempts had failed.
It had been worth it staying alive after all. For this moment alone it had.
After Dazai had fastened his seatbelt in the passenger seat, he looked out the car window. As Oda started the engine, the brunette took one last look at the Yokohama State Prison.
The car drove off the parking lot, and Dazai looked ahead now. He was ready to leave it all behind.
The former inmate felt a bit nervous, unsure of what to say. He wanted to ask his best friend so many things. Yet, somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to.
“You’re probably wondering what’s been going on with me,” Oda said, as if he had read Dazai’s thoughts.
Dazai nodded. “Yes, I truly am.”
They drove up the entrance ramp to the highway. Oda’s gaze was fixed on the road ahead, but a smile danced on his lips as he began to speak.
“A lot has happened. I graduated with a degree in education, but I felt that wasn’t enough. So, I started another degree in social work. I was able to skip a few semesters because I’d already learned a lot in my previous studies that matched the new one. In a lecture about the effects of peer pressure on young people, I met Shihiro. She’s my wife. We got married five years ago.”
Dazai was incredibly glad that Odasaku had found his path in life, especially that love had found him. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thank you. A year after our wedding, little Sota-kun was born. He’s four years old now and quite the cheeky rascal. He loves kindergarten, must have gotten his extroverted personality from his mother.” Oda’s eyes sparkled as he spoke about his small family.
“I can hardly believe it. That’s so beautiful!” Dazai smiled, and he meant it. For the first time in a long time, he felt joy. Yes, he was genuinely happy for his best friend. It was only now that he realized how much he had missed that feeling.
“If you’d like, and it’s not too much, Shihiro, Sota-kun, and I would love for you to have dinner with us tonight. I’ve prepared a delicious ramen broth—it’s been simmering since this morning.” Oda paused briefly. “Of course, I understand if you need time for yourself.”
“Believe me, I’ve had enough time for myself in the past years,” Dazai joked, and Oda laughed wholeheartedly.
“Oh man, I sure believe that! So, are you in?” Oda glanced at his passenger.
“It would be an honor,” replied the brunette.
Oda turned up the radio. “Midnight Train to Georgia” was playing as they drove on the highway toward the city.
The two of them talked about Oda’s life. He understood that it wasn’t necessary to ask Dazai about his time in prison. Dazai was relieved—he didn’t want to think about that chapter anymore.
The skyline of Yokohama eventually stretched out before them. The sight gave Dazai goosebumps. He was back in his city, the place where he belonged.
Six months later.
Dazai locked the door of the small flower shop. The owner had tragically passed away from a heart attack shortly after he had started helping out. The brunette had decided to take over the shop. His former boss had no relatives, and she had likely been a very lonely person.
Perhaps she had just chosen to be alone.
Working in the flower shop fulfilled Dazai. It took time before he no longer accidentally cut himself while trimming the flowers. It took time before he managed to put together the perfect bouquet. But all the effort was worth it.
Eventually, the brunette had built up a regular customer base. Some of his customers were leftovers from the time when his boss was still alive, while others discovered the small shop at the rather quiet intersection.
The fear that someone might recognize him, or perhaps even say something rude, turned out to be unnecessary. He was like a newcomer in the city. It was a nice feeling. The flowers calmed him, gave him hope.
Often, Shihiro and Sota-kun stopped by. They would drink coffee and chat while the little boy admired the all the beautiful flowers and plants. Eventually, he started calling Dazai "uncle." That made the brunette incredibly happy.
Odasaku worked at a school in the city center as a social worker. When he finished early, he would stop by Dazai’s shop and wait until his friend closed for the day. The two of them would then usually walk along the river and talk.
It was a peaceful life.
Sometimes, Dazai would remember things he had long tried to forget. In those moments, he had learned to remain calm. Instead of reaching for a bottle, he practiced a breathing exercise that helped him.
When the scenes in his mind became too vivid and loud, he would write in the small notebook he always carried with him.
Yes, he dealt with the demons of his past differently now. This was something Dazai could be proud of. And he was. He was no longer the person he used to be.
So, as Dazai locked up the shop that evening, he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned around.
Chuuya was standing there. He hadn’t changed, still looking exactly as he had the day they first met.
“Hello, Dazai-san,” the redhead said, somewhat awkwardly.
“Hello,” Dazai replied, just as uncertain.
Chuuya scratched the back of his head. “I’ve been meaning to stop by for a while now. I heard you own this shop, and well... I thought I’d say hi.”
To his surprise, Dazai didn’t feel much as he looked at the other man. He knew this was a good sign. In fact, he didn't feel anything. Or rather just neutral.
“It’s nice to see you again,” the brunette replied. “If you ever need flowers, feel free to stop by.” He smiled.
“To be honest, I was wondering if you’d like to... go get something to eat. You know, just as friends.” Chuuya’s face flushed slightly.
Dazai sighed inwardly. No, he was not the young man he once used to be.
“Chuuya-san, thank you for asking. After everything that happened, I mean. You know, that somehow reassures me.” He slipped the key he had been holding into his jacket pocket. “But I think we both need to look forward. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other often.”
Chuuya looked at him. “I understand. I think you’re right. But don’t hold it against me if I try again sometime. After all, I’d like to get to know the new Dazai.” He grinned charmingly.
“Don’t worry, my flowers and I will be here,” Dazai replied with a smile.
The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows behind them. Shadows that had seen much, endured a lot. But both the men and their shadows had to go their separate ways.
Sometimes, it’s better to accept your own world than to try to live in someone else’s.
Chuuya said goodbye, and the brunette watched him walk away for a moment. Yes, he felt nothing anymore when he saw this man.
With his hands in his jacket pockets, Dazai walked in the opposite direction, heading to his small apartment, where his cat was already waiting for him. He had simply named her Neko. He couldn’t think of a better name, and it was okay that way.
Sometimes, life feels as though you don’t deserve a second chance—as though you’re a bad person without the right to exist. But time heals all wounds, and eventually, you realize that you can start over again.
The good thing is, you can do this as many times as you need to. Each of us will find our own flower shop someday.
The Yokohama ferris wheel keeps on turning, even though you can't see it from where you are right now. But still, It keeps on turning, endlessly.