Drowning in the swamp of memories

a death wish

I sat cross-legged on my desk, sipping milk like a baby—oh, the irony. I must’ve inherited that habit from my mother, the mother I’d never even seen. I tried to picture her face, but all I saw was Gran-gran’s. A sad chuckle slipped out. Guess I’d lost my only family. What about Kai? He was technically family, but no. If he cared, he wouldn’t have left. He wouldn’t have abandoned Gran-gran and me. I clenched my fist, hating him more by the second. Kai had ditched us, no looking back.

In the past four weeks since joining the ADA, I’d shaken things up a bit. Got into some trouble with my neighbors—I mean, who could resist a little harmless fun? Their apartment may have turned into a swimming pool, courtesy of my Red Lotus abilities, but come on! I was just testing the water, literally. Then there was that one guy. He had the nerve to call me “honey.” Honey?! I taught him a lesson by breaking his arm. That’s what he got for being cringy. Azouzou, my loyal cat-partner-in-crime, joined me in a few harmless pranks as well. One involved coating their front door with sticky rice paste; another was switching their TV channels non-stop during their favorite dramas.

Kunikida decided I’d be rooming with Dazai since he’s the only one with an ability to nullify others. His No Longer Human could keep my powers “under control.” Ha. The guy named his ability like he’d just given up on life. Sometimes I wondered if he was an alien. Thank Gran-gran that I got a decent ability name.

I leaned back in my chair with Kenji’s overalls on, a black top underneath, my hair twisted into a messy bun. Rampo sat across from me on the couch, talking about his never-ending stockpile of candies. He sat curled up with a look of glee, like a kid bragging about his Halloween stash. That couch was practically his throne, all lumpy and worn out from years of lounging detectives. “I’m off to the candy shop!” he declared like it was a world-saving mission. I just rolled my eyes, amused by his childishness.

With Rampo gone, I tried to hunt down Kunikida to play a prank, but no luck. I sighed. My dear flower doc, Yosano-san, was also out on one of her marathon shopping trips. And Naomi? She was hovering over her brother Tanizaki, who looked like a puppy caught in the grip of an overenthusiastic toddler. Scratch that.

Just as I was about to jump on my last hope, Kenji, Dazai walked in. Dazai Osamu. I’d spent the last few weeks plotting how to take over his apartment after his hypothetical untimely demise. He smiled at me, that sly joker grin, the kind that made you itch to punch it off his face.

“Kenji’s back in the village,” he said, not missing a beat. Wait, how did he know I was about to ask that?

“You’re thinking out loud again,” he smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. I smacked the back of his neck, and he laughed, the same smug way he always did. I hated that grin, how it seemed permanently etched on his face. He dropped onto the couch and cracked open one of his endless suicide-themed books. Outside, the weather was moody—clouds hovering, giving the city a dramatic backdrop. Fine, let him brood with the clouds; I was the sun in this dreary place.

Without even glancing at him, I said, “You know, Dazai, drowning in a river might be the peaceful end you’re looking for.” I grinned darkly, practically tasting his demise in the air.

Dazai didn’t flinch. He gave me this half-smile, sly like a cat—a look that struck me with a strange pang of nostalgia. He reminded me of Kai in that moment, the thought surfacing only to make me angrier. I pushed it down.

Standing behind me, Dazai respected my space, careful not to come too close. Whether it was courtesy or fear of another smack, I didn’t care. He gave me a deadpan look, his fake smile back in place. “What are we waiting for, Mizuki-san?” he asked.

I matched his smug expression and replied, “Yes, let’s grant you that death wish.”

We headed out of the ADA toward the river. The city streets stretched before us, gray but alive, bustling with people and cluttered sounds. The air was thick with the hint of an upcoming rainstorm, an eerie calm hanging in the breeze. It suited our twisted “outing” perfectly.

As we walked, Dazai continued with his sarcastic remarks, and I threw back biting comebacks, each one sharper than the last.

“Ever thought about death by jellyfish?” I suggested, grinning.

“Ah, but then I’d only be another beach casualty,” he replied, unbothered, like he was picking out a new suit.

“You’re no fun,” I shot back, “I could always just shove you off a cliff.”

“Appreciate the sentiment, Mizuki-san. If anyone could make death interesting, it’s you.”

With that, he put on another of his aggravating smiles, and for a split second, I imagined actually erasing it from existence. Soon enough, the river loomed ahead, the water moving in slow, ominous waves.