To conduct the singing misfortune [Dazai and Reader]

A Coat-pocket Frog

Tsurumi River glowed shades of citrus and deep pink, hiding the deep and swallowing depths of the water below with the illusion that it was akin to fruity tea or a bubbling soda. I breathe the salty air, sighing in the quiet trickle of water underfoot, no wind in the air and the last of today's lethargic routine settling on the horizon.

The quiet scenery was rushed with loud, clattering rails as a train rattled and screeched, escaping the moment within seconds.

My grip tightens on Osamu's trench coat, wincing some seconds after it passed. My hand is hooked into the rolled sleeve as usual, where I'm sure my thumb has worn down the fabric over four years of holding it.

"A beautiful place to die, no?" Osamu ruffled my already bed-headed mess of hair with excitable faux optimism, making me duck slightly under the rough gesture as I giggle, "And with my little [Y/N], no less! How about it?" I responded keenly, watching the river as we near the edge, "It's great, Osamu! You outdid yourself this time! Although..." I kicked my feet against the rail, "...Kunikida will really have our necks this time."

He only giggles, climbing over the rail one leg at a time. The tracker placed in Osamu's wallet guarantees that kunikida has an idea of where we'll be in about ten minutes, and that'll be enough for us to get this ball moving in the investigation.

I climb over the railing, much less gracefully, and circle my arms around Osamu. My eyes flick over the sight below us – deep, rushing water.

"When has such a thing ever stopped us? I think he'll thank us in the end!" I focus on the figure slumping some ways away on the other side of the tracks, coated in a thick layer of purple fog that told me he was a great source of fortune. "The brilliant siblings have emerged victorious once again!"

With that, we allowed gravity to tip us over the edge.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

My lungs squeeze painfully, a cough lingering in my throat as I gain consciousness. I'm propelled forward by the sharp pang, choking into my fist. I hack out the water stuck to my sore throat, and then I rub my eyes with a groan, my clothes sticking to me. I was soaked, the smell of the river a familiar stench that sticks to my clothes even after washing them now more intense and in my every pore.

Slowly, the blurriness and the initial wave of black dots swarming my vision clears, revealing the figure closer up to be a white-haired boy with sickly pale skin and a less-than-nourished figure. His clothes cling to his body, and I can see that his ribs stick out. I register him talking and then the sound of Osamu's nonsense.

"Ah! [Y/N] – You made it!" A frown grows on my face, but the mischievous glint never leaves my eyes, "Better luck next time, I guess." The stranger lets our words sink in, and then he catches onto the narrative, "Suicide?!" Giggling, I stood in my heavy, cold clothes.

"Sure! And I think it was going just swimmingly! But you interfered and ruined our day." Osamu scowls, and I raise a hand in protest, "Leave him alone, Osamu! We've disturbed his peace, haven't we? If anything, we should be the ones apologising." With a sigh, a smile spreads onto my brother's face invitingly towards the nameless boy as he brushes off his soaked clothes, "You're right, the fault lies with us. Our goal is to commit a clean suicide that nobody would be troubled by, but it seems we've erred, so let us apologi–"

The stranger's stomach gurgles painfully. He clutches his stomach with a slightly dazed expression.

"Are you, by chance, hungry, young man?"

"Well, the truth is, I haven't eaten in several days." As if on cue, mine and Osamu's stomachs make a sound twice as big. I pat my stomach to tame the noise, Osamu's face blank, "Me neither..." I think about when I last ate – last night. It was a microwave curry since I don't trust Osamu to not create poison disguised as food, and I lack any culinary skills. Pops would be disappointed if he knew my diet.