Dazai never talked about his home life-if he even had one. As far as the rest of the Agency was concerned, he simply ceased to exist the moment he left the office. No one had ever heard him mention an apartment, a family, or even a favorite place to sleep. He would vanish at night and reappear the next morning like a ghost tied to the Agency walls. It bothered Kunikida more than he cared to admit. The uncertainty, the mystery-it clashed with every principle of order and routine Kunikida stood for. A man should have a place to call home, a space where he belonged. But Dazai? He drifted. And while the others may have shrugged it off as "just Dazai being Dazai," Kunikida couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. So, he took the day off. Not for rest, not for errands-no, this was a mission. One he didn't log, didn't report, and certainly didn't mention to Dazai. If his partner was hiding something, Kunikida intended to find out. For better or worse, it was time to see where the enigmatic ex-Mafia executive went when no one was watching.

this is it this is what people have been asking for especially my best friend I am writing this to heal also just to understand myself a little bit better why I do some of the things I do I don't expect this to get any reads I don't expect sympathy hell I'm putting a maturity rating on this. I never do that with any of my stories and I'll probably be updating it year by year unless something crazy happens except for the first few that are going to go year by year anyways until my current age.

I just need to get this off my mind