To conduct the singing misfortune [Dazai and Reader]

Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam I

Hiding for two years straight turns out to be debilitating to one's social capabilities, especially when you've spent nearly every single hour of those years with someone who can barely be labelled human. Osamu is interesting to put it shortly. The way his eyes drive past everything in his way, looking to a future so distant it hasn't crossed most people's minds. It caught me in my tracks upon meeting him for the first time. The lifeless man's influence on my similar state of boredom isn't very reassuring.

I can't lament, though, as his presence comforted me greatly. I find it enjoyable to suffer alongside Osamu, a man who's lived longer than I. The dread I feel for the future and the existential doubt that's followed me since my time in the slums has been accompanied.

Upon turning the age of fourteen, the time has come to rise from hiding. Osamu guides me by the shoulders, an easy smile smothered against his features as the practice of many years pulls at his crows' feet. The wrinkles have been formed through imitating human emotion, they can hardly be called wholesome to have formed so young. I copy him.

The Armed Detective Agency stood in our sights, red brick and bold architecture making the air pleasant – In this way, it is far different to the Port Mafia as the sleek, intricate design isolates the public from its festering underground connection.

"I wonder if we can pull off interacting with so many new people at a time," Osamu makes his comment, and I can't help but agree. "First impressions matter," I utter quietly, the ring of a bell tolling over us as we wander into the building.

A quaint café sits quietly, coffee and sweets in the air as I realise I'd failed to eat this morning. Our conversation, although dull, ends and the uneasiness in my throat makes me grab Osamu's sleeve to divert myself from the distracting sensation.

Our collective steps echoed in the empty hallway, the hardwood leading toward a traditional elevator that sounded a ding as Osamu pressed the button. The routine was monotonous, and a wave of exhaustion pulled over me. This is our road to a tomorrow; I hate it, and after so long wishing to eradicate 'tomorrow' from life entirely, I can only imagine what my brother feels.

The elevator ride comes to a halt, my stomach lifting back into place as the door opens with a pleasant chime. Again, we walk the empty hallway to a decorative door with a golden, engraved plaque, 'The Armed Detective Agency'.

The air around Osamu changes further, and I assume he wants to set a standard for his character right as he gets through the entrance. There's a stark difference between this Osamu and the one that drinks in numb silence. Again, I copy him.

We hear a man from the other side of the door, voice stoic and assertive as I presume him to be the President of the Agency, "Enter."

Osamu follows the order, bandaged hands closing around the handle and opening it with faux delight, "Thanks for having us." My eyes catch onto a dirty blonde as his eyes scan over our appearances. "My name is Osamu Dazai, and I'm twenty years old. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I smile, much more timid with the lack of practice, "I'm [Y/N] Oda, and I'm fourteen." The last name was something I wasn't sure I should have, but Osamu decided I should keep it, "Nice to meet you."

Our first encounter with humanity today is a tall man, taller than Osamu, with his hair tied back in a red clip and shorter fringe in the fronf. Despite the barbaric mullet, it suits him and his overly beige ensemble. A Karma pin sits on his lapel, a red ribbon tied around his neck in place of a tie. The neat-looking man responds sternly, an order about him that I'm sure will irk me in time to come, "I am Kunikida. If something comes up that you need help with, be sure to ask me."

Osamu is quick with his reactions, posture jolting as he takes Kunikida's hand, "Oh! Are you the amazing investigator of the Agency that everyone talks about? You're such an inspiration!" Osamu's antics are responsive, out of the blue, and exaggerated in a way I can't pull off. Meeting people has never been my forte, and I find that, with time, I open up a terrifying amount.