Chapter 9: Dazai's Literature Is Kind of Like a Toxic Broadcast

…I made Kishine-san mad.

I don’t know why, but I must’ve said something careless.

So I really want to apologize.

I want to, but…

“Kishine, good… morning.”

“…Good morning, Shiragane-san.”

Until recently, she always called me Tsubasa-chan, but now she’d gone back to calling me Shiragane-san.

I was so shocked, I was speechless (well, I never talk anyway), and I couldn’t even ask her what I did wrong.

“Kishine, the rooftop…”

“…I’m going home.”

And after school, she started heading straight home without waiting around. She gave me no opening—I could only stand there and watch her go.

…It’s been like that for several days now.

“Kishine…”

When I sit on the rooftop hugging my knees, I find myself saying her name without meaning to.

Today’s sunset is just like the others—alone on the rooftop.

I’ve just been sitting here, curled up by myself.

Even the delusions I used to love so much—I haven’t been able to have a single one since the day I made Kishine-san mad.

All I can think about is: how did it come to this?

…Was it because I thought “Her periods get worse on cloudy days, huh”? Did she read my mind and think I’m a pervert?

Or maybe she doesn’t want to watch the angel stairs with me anymore… Maybe she thinks everything about me—my mysteriousness, everything—is just a pain.

The more I think about it, the deeper I sink. Because the answer… it’s only inside Kishine-san’s heart.

And again today, there’s no answer. I can’t find one.

So tomorrow will just be another repeat of the same day. I don’t understand Kishine-san. That’s why I can’t change anything. So I tried making resignation my new best friend—when it happened.

Creeeak—the sound of metal scraping.

The rooftop door opened.

I turned around on instinct.

She came. She doesn’t hate me after all.

I turned back, full of hope and anticipation, and—

“…Tsubasa.”

“Futa…ba?”

Someone I wasn’t expecting at all stood there, face completely unreadable.

…Huh? Why?

---

It’s been about two weeks since my comrade and best friend, Shiragane Tsubasa, stopped coming to the library.

I’m a little peeved.

We bonded over our fiery Dazai spirit back then.

We even shared a deep, blank-faced sympathy.

"Hey, Misao, is the library tilted?"

"Glad you came, Tsubasa. It’s slightly slanted today."

"You're the only one here."

"Exactly. Only those of us reading Dazai are human. No Dazai, no humanity."

"That’s very Heian-era thinking."

"Flat worldview, but slanted philosophy."

"…So that’s the true Decline of the Setting Sun?"

"Now that’s a killer Dazai joke."

"We’re totally in sync."

"Yeaaah!"

That’s how it used to be—fun Dazai talk all the way. But lately, Tsubasa’s been totally lax. It’s like she’s not getting her daily dose of Dazai.

…Or maybe, just maybe, she was getting it, and it consumed her.

The one dangerous thing about Dazai: when people read the stuff he wrote in a bad mental state, it spreads the crazy.

It’s kind of cute, but kind of not. Like, if a student exhausted from exams reads No Longer Human, they spiral into a pit of despair, then inexplicably flip into manic energy and go I can fly! off the rooftop.

To students, some of Dazai’s works are basically hazardous materials. Tsubasa might’ve just discovered Dazai’s brilliance and picked up No Longer Human.

If that’s the case, she could be off somewhere right now, flashing double peace signs and practicing for liftoff.

…That would be a problem.

We finally became friends, and if Tsubasa goes and becomes a Dazai martyr, I’d not only lose my friend but maybe even lose all the Dazai books from the library.

That’s just plain nonsense. Not even slightly funny.

“I have to check on Tsubasa.”

Driven by a sense of duty, I set out on a journey to find her.

All to protect Tsubasa—and the Dazai books in the library.

…It was actually pretty hard.

Tsubasa never told me what class she was in.

But I found her.

In a different classroom from mine, staring absentmindedly out the window.

For some reason, she looked like a blank page to me.

An unwritten, untold story.

That’s how faint her presence felt, just sitting there in the classroom. So faint, it was almost concerning.

“I have to paint her in Dazai.”

That mission welled up in my chest—I couldn’t just leave her be. So I moved to step into her classroom—

“…Futaba-san?”

“Ah. The lesbian.”

Standing right near the door was that pervert who’s head-over-heels for Tsubasa. Same class. Makes sense why they’re close.

“…What do you want? And I’m not a lesbian.”

“I came to dye Tsubasa in the hues of Dazai.”

“Go home.”

“Why?”

“Whatever. Just—come here.”

She took my hand and pulled me out to the end of the hallway.

Maybe, since she’s a lesbian, she was about to do something indecent to me. That would be the absolute worst.

“Lesbian, listen. I’m not a lesbian.”

“…Can I hit you?”

“Violence only breeds hatred.”

“Thanks to you, I’m already drowning in hatred!”

“That’s so sad.”

“Don’t you dare act like you care!”

Maybe it’s early-onset menopause or something—this lesbian was the type to snap without warning.

She grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

My brain was rattling around. I’d really prefer she stopped.

“…So?”

“So what?”

“Why not?”

Why shouldn’t I go talk to Tsubasa?

It’s not like this person has the right to keep me from talking to her.

“…Because you’re weird.”

“Tsubasa is?”

“You are!”

She glared at me with these damp, sulking eyes.

Like everyone who gets close to Tsubasa is her enemy.

…Now that I think about it, she said something before about being Tsubasa’s number one.

So, putting that together… is this about possessiveness?

“Lesbian, listen. Actually, Tsubasa belongs to herself. She’s not your property.”

“Shut up! …I don’t need you to tell me that—I know that… I know!”

She shouted, face burning red.

And the sharp glare she gave me—it looked like she really was struggling with it.

“Well then, I’m going to talk to Tsubasa.”

Figuring we’d come to some kind of understanding, I turned to go talk to her. Even if it was just about Run, Melos!, I wanted to talk.

…But then she grabbed my hand.

With the kind of strength that said, I’m not letting you go.

“Lesbian, listen. If we have sex out here, everyone will see us and our lives will be ruined. I’ll become the center of attention as a lesbian assault victim. It’s a lose-lose situation. Fight your perverted urges.”

“Hmph!”

“Gwah!”

She just punched me!!

“A-A woman should be gentle. And humans shouldn’t bully the weak…”

“I told you I’m not a lesbian.”

“Then what are you?”

“Kishine. Don’t forget it again.”

“…Got it.”

Kishine the lesbian. I won’t forget her again.

I’ll tell Tsubasa: Don’t date this one—she hits.

“Kishine, I want to talk to Tsubasa.”

That said, I decided to play nice for now.

Tsubasa is my Dazai-esque comrade, my very own Selinuntius.

So in front of this tyrannical despot, I chose diplomacy. Maybe she’d listen before flying off the handle… because if it turned into a fight, I’d lose for sure.

“…No.”

“Why not?”

“Just—no!”

Yeah, no dice. This monarch was a full-on tantrum-throwing baby.

A king begging for a revolution.

…But something was off.

She seemed really flustered.

She and Tsubasa were friends, so if she was keeping watch, she could easily let me talk to her.

…Was there a reason she couldn’t?

Or maybe she wasn’t able to?

“…Did you guys fight?”

It was a shot in the dark—just something I blurted out.

But Kishine’s eyes went wide, and then she glared at me—hard.

“We didn’t!!”

They totally did.

That reaction was textbook overcompensation.

“You’re mad that you can’t talk to her, so you don’t want me talking to her either?”

It was just a guess, but…

“…That’s why I hate you, Futaba-san.”

She spat the words out, eyes averted.

Looks like I nailed it. I might actually be a detective.

Maybe I’ll call my agency the Dazai Detective Agency.

“Big baby.”

“Ugh, shut up!”

She shot me a glare so sharp, it was my turn to look away. That was actually kind of scary.

“Then make up with her already. I think your hysterics would calm down if you just did it.”

I made my suggestion, and Kishine, still glaring at me, muttered softly—

“I hate you. I really hate you…”

But she made sure I could hear it.

She can relax.

I hate her too, ever since she punched me.

“Well then, I’ll be waiting.”

I left it at that and walked away.

I really did want to talk to Tsubasa, but with Kishine around, it wasn’t going anywhere.

---

So I waited. A few days.

I watched Tsubasa—and Kishine, incidentally—regularly.

“Kishine… rooftop…”

“…I’m heading home.”

The two of them still looked awkward around each other, and even though Tsubasa clearly wanted to make up, Kishine kept brushing her off.

Even now, Tsubasa had just suggested something, and Kishine ignored her and stormed out of the classroom. After all that fuss she made about me not getting near Tsubasa, now she’s the one running away from her.

This might take a while.

What a pain, I thought—and then, it hit me.

If the lesbian Kishine isn’t around…

…I can just go talk to Tsubasa, right?

---

“…Tsubasa.”

“Futa…ba?”

My hunch was spot-on.

Tsubasa was on the rooftop alone. No sign of the lesbian.

Everything went just as I expected.

No question about it now—I am a detective.