Immortality [Dazai x Female Reader]

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Happy Pills Make It Easier To Put On a Happy Face

Two months had passed since that fateful day Y/N left the Agency to become Fyodor's right hand. Two months since she'd last seen Dazai's eyes filled with pain and betrayal. Every day since then had been a blur of missions, espionage, and carefully calculated moves at Fyodor's side. But deep down, Y/N felt hollow. She had sold her soul, betrayed the only people who had ever cared for her, and the weight of that decision was slowly crushing her from the inside out.

The headquarters of Fyodor's organization was as cold and calculating as its leader, but none of it mattered to Y/N anymore. She carried out her orders mechanically, without emotion or thought. Everything felt numb. It was easier that way. The sharp sting of guilt, regret, and self-hatred was too much to bear, so she found an escape.

The little white pills sat on her nightstand every night — her "happy pills." She had found them shortly after joining Fyodor, after realizing the weight of her choices was too heavy to carry. The pills dulled her pain, made everything seem far less complicated. For a few hours, they helped her forget that she had broken Dazai's heart, that she had walked away from the only family she had ever known.

But the pills came with a price. While her immortality would prevent her from dying, even an overdose couldn't escape the intense, prolonged agony that followed. She had been on the edge more than once, dangerously close to slipping into a coma, her body barely able to withstand the poison coursing through her veins. But in a twisted way, she welcomed the pain — it was the only thing she felt anymore.

In Fyodor's lair, Y/N sat at a darkened table, papers and plans sprawled out in front of her, but her eyes were unfocused. She had taken more pills earlier that day, the fog in her mind growing thicker with each passing hour. She felt nothing. She wanted to feel nothing.

Across from her, Fyodor studied her carefully, his cold eyes never missing a thing. He knew exactly what she was doing to herself. He could see it in the way her movements had grown sluggish, the vacant look in her once sharp, determined eyes. But for now, he let her spiral. It served his purpose. She was loyal to him because she had nowhere else to go, and in her broken state, she was easier to control.

"You've been quiet lately," Fyodor said, his voice smooth and calculated as always. "Is there something on your mind, Y/N?"

Y/N looked up at him, her vision slightly blurred from the haze. "No," she muttered, her voice dull. "Just... tired."

Fyodor's gaze flickered with something almost akin to amusement. "I see."

He knew better. He always did.

Meanwhile, back at the Armed Detective Agency, the mood had been heavy for weeks. Dazai was a shadow of his former self, his usual playful, carefree demeanor replaced with something far darker. He had tried everything to convince President Fukuzawa to retrieve Y/N, to bring her back before it was too late. But every time, the president gave the same answer.

"No."

Fukuzawa's reasoning was sound — to intervene would be to put Y/N in even greater danger. If the Agency attempted to retrieve her, Fyodor would retaliate. The consequences could be catastrophic, not just for Y/N, but for everyone involved. But Dazai couldn't accept that.

Every night, Dazai found himself pacing his apartment, his mind racing with plans, schemes, anything that could bring her back. He couldn't stand the thought of her being at Fyodor's side, lost in the darkness that had once threatened to consume him. But even worse was the knowledge that she had left of her own accord — that she had chosen Fyodor over him, over the Agency.

It wasn't just betrayal. It was heartbreak. And no matter how many times he replayed their last conversation in his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed her.

Kunikida, who had been watching Dazai closely, approached him one evening. "Dazai, you need to let it go," he said, his voice firm but sympathetic. "She made her choice. You can't keep torturing yourself over this."

Dazai stopped pacing, turning to face Kunikida with a rare, raw vulnerability in his eyes. "I can't just let it go," he said quietly. "She's out there, Kunikida. She's hurting, and I—" His voice caught in his throat, but he forced the words out. "I can't lose her."

Kunikida sighed, crossing his arms. "I know you care about her, Dazai. But this isn't just about you. If we act recklessly, it could put her in even more danger. The president made the right call."

Dazai's fists clenched at his sides. He knew Kunikida was right, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. Every day that passed felt like another knife twisting in his chest.

Back in Fyodor's lair, Y/N sat alone in her room, staring at the little bottle of pills in her hand. Her grip tightened around it, her mind spiraling as the guilt and shame she had been trying to suppress came rushing back with a vengeance.

"I can't do this," she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. "I can't keep going like this..."

But the alternative was worse. If she stopped taking the pills, she'd have to face the full weight of her actions, the crushing reality that she had betrayed the man she loved and the people who had stood by her side. The happy pills made it easier to avoid that pain, even if it was slowly killing her.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Fyodor entered, his presence cold and commanding as always.

"It's time for our next mission," he said, glancing at the pills in her hand. His expression remained neutral, but the unspoken judgment was clear. "I expect you to be in top form."

Y/N swallowed hard, nodding mechanically as she tucked the pills away. She followed him out, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a vice.

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