(ah, the niceness of being able to come and go. he is no longer wearing his prison uniform, but instead, something akin to what he wore back home, sans his signature trenchcoat. the bandages are nicely secure, and he seems on an impeccable mood - two can be masking, it seems.)
Kooootone-chan! ♪♪ It's nice to see you! Ah-- I'm not, but I'm not the one who can cook from that list. It's the tiny little angry annoying thing, you see? I have no idea what he can make, so I'll just buy random things and see how he goes. Maybe we can grab a coffee before we go for it!
Coffee sounds good! Does the tiny little angry annoying thing have a name?
[She doesn't sound chiding or judgemental, just curious. It's really not her business what Dazai decides to call him friends acquaintances, though it does make her idly wonder what he calls her to others.]
Maybe I can help with picking out ingredients. I'm not as good as Aragaki-senpai, but I can cook a little.
Ah, you can ask him yourself! He's about your height and your hair color!
(ah, chuuya. poor chuuya. his old partner gets no rest, even when they're on better terms. just a mean thing of destiny that they're here - such a thing as abusive codependency, ugly betrayal, mutual hate and inability to let go certainly makes things... easier? and harder all the same.
there's a shrug, as if it hardly matters, before he skips a little on his walk, cheery as usual.)
[She puffs out her cheeks in annoyance, but fine! She'll just have to ask. If that person gets annoyed that she calls him exactly how Dazai does, well, it's not her fault she wasn't given any more information to work with.
Ah, right, Shinji... she smiles, more than a little fondly as she clasps her hands behind her back and falls into step beside him.]
Aragaki Shinjiro-senpai. He's a friend of mine. [Said matter-of-factly, even though Shinji would probably swear up and down that he doesn't have any friends.] Almost as tall as you, kind of grumpy sometimes, but a really good cook.
Ah, ah, no need. I'm weak to these little faces! Nakahara Chuuya, okay? Better?
(absolutely isn't, but he pretends almost so naturally, as he believes his own tangle of lies. a finger gently pushes, as to make her cheeks release the air.
he will get annoyed, but most likely not at kotone.)
[She lets the air sputter out through her cheeks and laughs, not at all bothered by someone she barely knows deciding to just poke her cheeks like that. It wasn't done with malice, she can tell!]
Hm, that's too bad. I'll have to introduce you sometime!
[Shinji is perfectly capable of making his own friends, if he tried. Whether or not he'll try though...]
Ah, so he really is here?! You should, the people we know, the merrier, right?
(kotone, do NOT)
(ah, what a loaded question. he remembers it very well - the current boss of the mafia wouldn't just let dazai die, an unfortunate turn of events to a suicidal teenager, younger than the girl who walks beside him. deal with the sheep, the organization that was giving the mafia some trouble, and lo and behold, the king of the sheep? nakahara chuuya.
at the end of their first unwilling mission, dazai had manipulated the sheep towards a betrayal of their leader, leaving the redhead without a home. welcome to the port mafia.
not that it's an answer he will give, so he sighs, theatrically.)
Ugh, bad luck that I've met the slug! We've known each other since we were-- well, I guess he's still little. Younger than you, for sure. Yokohama isn't big for two kiddos, so we met by chance.
[She absolutely will, if only so that a) Shinji has more than one person to talk to and b) Dazai has someone else to go grocery shopping with.]
Hmmm...
[She hums quietly, just looking at him for a moment as if trying to gauge whether or not he's actually telling the truth. Like recognizes like, buddy, and that didn't answer her question at all, but just danced around it.
Well, it really isn't any of her business. If he wants to dodge questions, he's free to!]
Oh, no, he's as old-- wait, how old do you think I am, miss?
(he's pointing at his face, almost in shock and confusion. it's not like he's ever stepped foot in a school, but alas, wow. with how tall he is and his position in the mafia, it hardly ever mattered how young or old he turned out to be.)
[Does she mean that reassuringly or insultingly...? Best not to think about it, because it's impossible to tell from her voice.]
I'm seventeen.
[...
Her brows knit briefly together, wondering if she'll see her next birthday. She made it to March, but that had been a struggle. She still feels tired, deeply so, if not as bad as she had on the 5th, but...
Well! Best not to dwell on it.]
What kind of food does Nakahara-san cook, exactly?
(that's actually so surprising to hear that he finds himself in laughter, even bending his long torso a little, bandaged arms against his stomach.)
Ah, no, I'm not! Hopefully, I won't see too old!
(the irony of being practically unkillable, without any supernatural ability to back that up. not even dazai can kill dazai, and if the fact that he's bandaged from neck to toe is enough said.)
Ah, I haven't really had his cooking in many moons. I think whatever I ask, with the caveat that I shut up for a while!
[There it is again, that casual acceptance of death. It's not that she doesn't get it -- last year, she'd have even agreed with him. Now, knowing what she does, it does bother her. She'd accepted death, but that doesn't mean she wants to die.]
I've known some pretty cool old people, [is all she says instead, because she can barely reconcile her own feelings, let alone Dazai's.] What do you like to eat, then? I can help you pick out the right ingredients to cook with.
(some of us have been craving it for way too long. when he officially joined the mafia, that was what he was searching for - a reason amongst bloodshed and torture to live, to understand what it feels like to breathe. it was given to him by the man he loved asking him to save rather lives than take, as the last words he ever pronounced.
some days, he can just do that. some others, it's harder to speak. being a genius fucking sucks.)
Well, enjoy the not-so-old me for now, I don't think I'll make the list! Well, anyway. Coffee first, right?
(there's nothing sad, or nebulous about how he says it. it's cheery, like a kid awaiting Christmas, patiently counting the minutes until the presents can be opened.)
[She gives him her best smile and moves past him, hands still clasped behind her back as she takes charge to lead toward the coffee shop she'd decided they're going to. If that doesn't shut the topic down, then maybe it will make him a little less flippant for at least a few seconds.]
(but look, a high five, it does not make him less flippant. it makes him-- almost excited? perhaps intrigued? everyone he talks about this yells at him, calls him a maniac, and tells him they will kill him themselves, but no one ever does.
[You know what? Fine. It still kind of annoys her, but they aren't nearly close enough for her to get to the bottom of why he thinks that way, and it really isn't her place to judge. She snorts a laugh and doesn't high five him, but just shakes her head with a smile as if to say, "well, alright then."]
Hm, I don't think they'll let me order that. You'll have to order for me.
Eh? You want to try? As a responsible adult, I definitely should tell you 'no'...! But, eh, I'm not responsible at all.
(it's easy to order, he's been here before, ordered this before, and the waiter probably thinks both are for him, anyway. it's called functional alcoholism, runs in the mafia.)
[They're supposed to be going grocery shopping! Maybe next time she'll take him up on that, but for now,]
Just a black coffee, please. Oh, yeah! I wanted to ask you about something you said before... something about ability users? When I texted you the other day. What are those?
(and it won't even scratch the surface of his rotten liver. takes him many bottles for that.
as they wait, his boney hands meet under his chin, where he rests it.)
Ah, yes. It is not a secret. My world has plenty of people who have abilities that surpass normal people's capabilities. Some examples... 'Thou Shall Not Die' is a good one -- that makes someone I know able to completely heal a person, only if they're half-dead already, or 'The Matchless Poet' - every object a man I know writes comes into existence if they're smaller or the same size of his very annoying notebook. Things like that. I have one, too.
[She's gone through this social link before, kind of. Mutatsu had been kind underneath all his gruff, and going through his own problems. Kotone certainly isn't going to judge. If it weren't broad daylight in the middle of town, maybe she'd even take him up on it! But it doesn't seem like the right atmosphere to have a drink and let him talk.
So instead she rests her chin in her hand, not quite mirroring him, but looking at him with genuine interest. It sounds like the kind of things a Persona could use -- she flips through some of the ones in her head with a thought: Akasha Arts, Morning Star, Thunder Reign -- so it isn't that weird to her. That does bring a tiny frown to her lips, though. Which Arcana is Dazai? Maybe it's because right now he's reminding her of Mutatsu that she's thinking of the Tower, but she'd fused Chi You away before the final battle. Darn.
Well, not that it matters, since the Velvet Room doesn't seem to be here -- or if it is here, she doesn't have access to it.]
Mine's 'No Longer Human'. Give me your hand, it's harmless.
(his hand is thin, fingers long, delicate, but if she's observant, she'll see some marks of a past. how some calloused spots fit perfectly the shape of a gun, where otherwise everything is soft, should she take it.
if the person wields no special abilities, nothing really happens. the worst thing is that they've touched dazai - but if they do, a cool wash embalms the feeling of their ability inside, locking it, nullifying it, quieting a storm.)
[She takes his hand, and if he's observant, he might notice those same callouses on her own hand, though hers are also sporting other patterns of callouses from long nights wielding a naginata. For her part, though, she just raises both eyebrows and waits to see if something happens.
And waits.
And waits.]
Hmm... if you just wanted to hold my hand, you could have said so! [And she smiles, clearly a joke as she makes to take her hand back.]
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Kooootone-chan! ♪♪ It's nice to see you! Ah-- I'm not, but I'm not the one who can cook from that list. It's the tiny little angry annoying thing, you see? I have no idea what he can make, so I'll just buy random things and see how he goes. Maybe we can grab a coffee before we go for it!
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[She doesn't sound chiding or judgemental, just curious. It's really not her business what Dazai decides to call him
friendsacquaintances, though it does make her idly wonder what he calls her to others.]Maybe I can help with picking out ingredients. I'm not as good as Aragaki-senpai, but I can cook a little.
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(ah, chuuya. poor chuuya. his old partner gets no rest, even when they're on better terms. just a mean thing of destiny that they're here - such a thing as abusive codependency, ugly betrayal, mutual hate and inability to let go certainly makes things... easier? and harder all the same.
there's a shrug, as if it hardly matters, before he skips a little on his walk, cheery as usual.)
Ah, who's this Aragaki-kun?
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Ah, right, Shinji... she smiles, more than a little fondly as she clasps her hands behind her back and falls into step beside him.]
Aragaki Shinjiro-senpai. He's a friend of mine. [Said matter-of-factly, even though Shinji would probably swear up and down that he doesn't have any friends.] Almost as tall as you, kind of grumpy sometimes, but a really good cook.
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(absolutely isn't, but he pretends almost so naturally, as he believes his own tangle of lies. a finger gently pushes, as to make her cheeks release the air.
he will get annoyed, but most likely not at kotone.)
Ah. I haven't had the pleasure.
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Hm, that's too bad. I'll have to introduce you sometime!
[Shinji is perfectly capable of making his own friends, if he tried. Whether or not he'll try though...]
So how did you meet Nakahara-san?
cw suicide, assassination
(kotone, do NOT)
(ah, what a loaded question. he remembers it very well - the current boss of the mafia wouldn't just let dazai die, an unfortunate turn of events to a suicidal teenager, younger than the girl who walks beside him. deal with the sheep, the organization that was giving the mafia some trouble, and lo and behold, the king of the sheep? nakahara chuuya.
at the end of their first unwilling mission, dazai had manipulated the sheep towards a betrayal of their leader, leaving the redhead without a home. welcome to the port mafia.
not that it's an answer he will give, so he sighs, theatrically.)
Ugh, bad luck that I've met the slug! We've known each other since we were-- well, I guess he's still little. Younger than you, for sure. Yokohama isn't big for two kiddos, so we met by chance.
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Hmmm...
[She hums quietly, just looking at him for a moment as if trying to gauge whether or not he's actually telling the truth. Like recognizes like, buddy, and that didn't answer her question at all, but just danced around it.
Well, it really isn't any of her business. If he wants to dodge questions, he's free to!]
Is he in high school? Or younger?
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(he's pointing at his face, almost in shock and confusion. it's not like he's ever stepped foot in a school, but alas, wow. with how tall he is and his position in the mafia, it hardly ever mattered how young or old he turned out to be.)
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[She just stares back at him, because hm, there's not really a good way to answer that.]
Like, you're clearly an adult, and I'm a second-year in high school, so...
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(which, again, mindblowing. should kotone ever see them in the same room, she'll see two grown men turn into very spiteful toddlers.)
I'm twenty-two years old.
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[Does she mean that reassuringly or insultingly...? Best not to think about it, because it's impossible to tell from her voice.]
I'm seventeen.
[...
Her brows knit briefly together, wondering if she'll see her next birthday. She made it to March, but that had been a struggle. She still feels tired, deeply so, if not as bad as she had on the 5th, but...
Well! Best not to dwell on it.]
What kind of food does Nakahara-san cook, exactly?
cw suicide
Ah, no, I'm not! Hopefully, I won't see too old!
(the irony of being practically unkillable, without any supernatural ability to back that up. not even dazai can kill dazai, and if the fact that he's bandaged from neck to toe is enough said.)
Ah, I haven't really had his cooking in many moons. I think whatever I ask, with the caveat that I shut up for a while!
(it's a hating relationship.)
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I've known some pretty cool old people, [is all she says instead, because she can barely reconcile her own feelings, let alone Dazai's.] What do you like to eat, then? I can help you pick out the right ingredients to cook with.
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some days, he can just do that. some others, it's harder to speak. being a genius fucking sucks.)
Well, enjoy the not-so-old me for now, I don't think I'll make the list! Well, anyway. Coffee first, right?
(there's nothing sad, or nebulous about how he says it. it's cheery, like a kid awaiting Christmas, patiently counting the minutes until the presents can be opened.)
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[She gives him her best smile and moves past him, hands still clasped behind her back as she takes charge to lead toward the coffee shop she'd decided they're going to. If that doesn't shut the topic down, then maybe it will make him a little less flippant for at least a few seconds.]
How do you take your coffee, Dazai-san?
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(but look, a high five, it does not make him less flippant. it makes him-- almost excited? perhaps intrigued? everyone he talks about this yells at him, calls him a maniac, and tells him they will kill him themselves, but no one ever does.
bunch of teases.)
Iced Irish Coffee! It's alcoholic.
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Hm, I don't think they'll let me order that. You'll have to order for me.
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(it's easy to order, he's been here before, ordered this before, and the waiter probably thinks both are for him, anyway. it's called functional alcoholism, runs in the mafia.)
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[They're supposed to be going grocery shopping! Maybe next time she'll take him up on that, but for now,]
Just a black coffee, please. Oh, yeah! I wanted to ask you about something you said before... something about ability users? When I texted you the other day. What are those?
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(and it won't even scratch the surface of his rotten liver. takes him many bottles for that.
as they wait, his boney hands meet under his chin, where he rests it.)
Ah, yes. It is not a secret. My world has plenty of people who have abilities that surpass normal people's capabilities. Some examples... 'Thou Shall Not Die' is a good one -- that makes someone I know able to completely heal a person, only if they're half-dead already, or 'The Matchless Poet' - every object a man I know writes comes into existence if they're smaller or the same size of his very annoying notebook. Things like that. I have one, too.
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So instead she rests her chin in her hand, not quite mirroring him, but looking at him with genuine interest. It sounds like the kind of things a Persona could use -- she flips through some of the ones in her head with a thought: Akasha Arts, Morning Star, Thunder Reign -- so it isn't that weird to her. That does bring a tiny frown to her lips, though. Which Arcana is Dazai? Maybe it's because right now he's reminding her of Mutatsu that she's thinking of the Tower, but she'd fused Chi You away before the final battle. Darn.
Well, not that it matters, since the Velvet Room doesn't seem to be here -- or if it is here, she doesn't have access to it.]
What's yours?
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(his hand is thin, fingers long, delicate, but if she's observant, she'll see some marks of a past. how some calloused spots fit perfectly the shape of a gun, where otherwise everything is soft, should she take it.
if the person wields no special abilities, nothing really happens. the worst thing is that they've touched dazai - but if they do, a cool wash embalms the feeling of their ability inside, locking it, nullifying it, quieting a storm.)
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And waits.
And waits.]
Hmm... if you just wanted to hold my hand, you could have said so! [And she smiles, clearly a joke as she makes to take her hand back.]
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and then he laughs, letting her go.)
It just has no effect on you, because you're not as it would recognize it! 'No Longer Human' is a nullifying ability to all abilities.
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cw suicide talk
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