Offbeat

Yokohama, 8:00 AM

It was sunny outside, not windy at all.

It was chilly, and the sun shined right into Dazai’s eyes. She sighed. Today, she was transferring to a new school—fuck.

She hadn’t prepared for that. At all. I mean, at least she had her uniform.

The uniform was kind of pretty. A classic school uniform, just with more red details.

Dazai loved red. Red was her favorite color.

She picked it up and went into the bathroom—she should probably start getting ready now. At 10 AM, she had to be at school.

Luckily, she had all the details on where to go and what to do. Her class was 3A, on the third floor. She didn’t know anyone.

And she wasn’t planning on meeting anyone. She just needed to focus on school.

Yeah. That.

_______________

Yokohama, 9:50 AM

“Damn, this school is big,” Dazai muttered, standing in front of the towering building.

She had ten minutes left. Well, she had expected to be late, but here she was—early.

With a small sigh, she reached up, pushing her dark hair behind her back and tucking one side neatly behind her ear. Not that she cared about looking good. Dazai already knew she was beautiful, even if others didn’t see it that way.

She didn’t care.

She just wanted success.

The moment she stepped inside, she noticed how warm it was compared to outside. The walls were polished, the floors spotless, and the air carried that faint scent of books and freshly cleaned hallways.

And the stairs—oh, the fucking stairs.

Big fucking stairs.

Dazai’s greatest enemy.

She took a deep breath and walked toward the first set, which led to the second floor. Just staring at them made her exhausted. Her stamina wasn’t bad or anything—it was just that she hated walking.

Reaching the second floor, she barely had time to recover before facing yet another set of stairs. These were even bigger.

“What the fuck,” she muttered under her breath, placing her hands on her knees dramatically as if she had just run a marathon. For a brief moment, she seriously considered changing schools.

But she kept going.

By the time she reached the third floor, she felt like she had aged ten years. Now came the next challenge—finding her classroom.

9:57 AM

Dazai squinted at the paper in her hand. Class 3A.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

The hallways were long, the doors endless. Every time she peeked inside a classroom, she was met with the stares of students who clearly didn’t recognize her. She walked past room after room, growing more and more frustrated.

At one point, she passed by a group of students chatting near the lockers and briefly considered asking for directions.

Nope. Not happening.

Dazai was not about to make small talk with strangers.

9:59 AM

Where the hell was 3A?!

She turned another corner, her patience wearing dangerously thin. Just as she was about to give up and accept her fate as a wandering ghost in this enormous school, she spotted it.

Class 3A.

Finally.

Relieved, she exhaled deeply, smoothing out her uniform before knocking lightly on the door.

The moment it slid open, she was met with a sharp glare from a tall, stern-looking man. The teacher. His narrowed eyes locked onto hers, his expression screaming you’re late.

“You are Dazai Osamu, right?” His voice was clipped, no nonsense.

Dazai opened her mouth. “Ye—”

“Sit down.”

She blinked.

The class was silent, all eyes on her. The teacher sighed, clearly already done with her existence. “Or do you want to introduce yourself?”

Yeah, no. Absolutely not.

Without another word, Dazai walked into the room, her eyes scanning for an empty seat. She didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

That’s when she saw them.

Two students.

One girl with violet eyes, dark hair, and an air of quiet confidence. And next to her, a boy with messy brown hair, lazily chewing on a snack like he had all the time in the world.

Her seat?

Right beside them.

As she dropped into the chair, setting her bag down with a sigh, the boy next to her leaned over slightly, grinning.

“Yo.”

The girl glanced at her, offering a small nod.

Dazai barely had time to let out a breath before the boy next to her turned, an easy grin spreading across his face. He looked like he was always seconds away from either solving a mystery or causing trouble—maybe both.

“So,” he said, leaning on his elbow, staring at her like she was the most interesting thing in the room. “You’re new, huh?”

Dazai glanced at him. “What gave it away?” she deadpanned.

Ranpo snickered, completely unfazed by her flat tone. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you looked completely lost in the hallway. Or the way you walked in here like you were already regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“And,” he continued, tapping his chin, “the fact that the teacher literally said your name when you walked in.”

Dazai sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Wow. What a detective.”

“Exactly,” Ranpo said, smirking. “Best detective in this school, actually.”

Dazai gave him a look. “Oh really? Best at what, exactly?”

“Everything.”

“That’s a bold claim.”

“It’s not a claim,” he said smugly. “It’s a fact.”

Dazai narrowed her eyes slightly. This guy is impossible.

Before she could respond, the girl sitting on her other side suddenly leaned in, resting her chin in her palm as she stared at Dazai with an unreadable expression.

Then, out of nowhere, she sighed dramatically. “You’re pretty, Dazaiii.”

Dazai froze.

She had not been expecting that.

It wasn’t like she hated compliments, but something about the way the girl said it—so casual, so confident—made Dazai want to sink into the floor and disappear.

This is so embarrassing.

Instead of responding, she just stared ahead, pretending like she hadn’t heard anything.

Yosano hummed, clearly amused by her reaction. “She’s shy,” she mused.

“I am not shy,” Dazai muttered, still refusing to make eye contact.

Ranpo snickered. “You kinda are.”

“I am not,” Dazai repeated.

“You totally are,” Yosano teased.

Dazai exhaled through her nose, willing herself to stay calm. She had just transferred—she didn’t need these two making a spectacle out of her on the first day.

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject. “What are your names?”

Ranpo looked mildly offended. “I literally just introduced myself.”

“I forgot.”

Ranpo gasped dramatically. “How rude. And here I thought we were bonding.”

Dazai gave him a look. “We weren’t.”

“You wound me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You don’t know me well enough to tell me what to be,” Ranpo shot back, grinning.

Dazai exhaled. “Fine. What’s your name again?”

“Ranpo,” he said, then paused. “Edogawa Ranpo. Genius detective, as I said before.”

Dazai rolled her eyes. “Right. And you?” She turned to Yosano.

“Yosano Akiko,” she said, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you, pretty girl.”

Dazai almost choked on air.

Yosano smirked. “Still embarrassed?”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Dazai muttered, looking away.

“Sure, sure,” Yosano hummed, clearly enjoying this.

Ranpo leaned closer. “You know, you’re kinda fun to mess with.”

Dazai shot him a glare. “I don’t think we’re at the stage of friendship where you can say that.”

“Sure we are,” Ranpo said confidently. “You sit next to me. That makes us friends.”

“That is the worst logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I am a genius,” Ranpo said smugly. “So really, my logic is flawless.”

Dazai stared at him. “That’s not how being a genius works.”

“It is if you’re me.”

Yosano chuckled. “You’ll get used to him,” she said. “Eventually.”

Dazai sighed. “Not sure if I want to.”

“You don’t get a choice,” Ranpo said happily.

Dazai opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, the teacher—who had been writing something on the board—turned around, his expression immediately darkening.

“You three,” he snapped, his eyes locking onto them. “Stop talking.”

Dazai blinked.

Ranpo and Yosano? Sure. They had been talking. But her? She had barely spoken.

Still, the teacher’s gaze settled directly on her. “Dazai. You just transferred, and you’re already causing trouble?”

Dazai opened her mouth to protest—because seriously, what the hell?—but the teacher didn’t give her a chance.

“Maybe instead of chatting with your friends, you should focus on the lesson,” he continued, his voice rising. “Or are you planning to make a habit of ignoring the rules? Because if that’s the case, you can spend your time in detention instead—”

The door suddenly slid open.

Everyone turned to look.

A boy walked in, completely unbothered by the fact that the teacher had been in the middle of yelling.

He had ginger hair—probably a mullet, if Dazai had to guess—and sharp, soft features. Piercings lined his ears, and his fingers were covered in rings. His whole vibe screamed I do not give a single fuck.

The teacher inhaled sharply, clearly preparing to unleash another lecture, but before he could, the boy tilted his head slightly, expression blank.

“You scream so loud,” he said flatly.

The room went dead silent.

Dazai blinked. His voice is really feminine.

Not in an obvious way, but there was something about it—soft but sharp, smooth but slightly raspy. It was… interesting.

She didn’t comment on it, though.

She didn’t have to, because beside her, Ranpo and Yosano both burst out laughing.

The teacher’s face turned a shade darker. “Excuse me?”

“You’re yelling,” the boy repeated, tone calm, like he was pointing out the weather. “It’s annoying.”

Ranpo looked delighted. Yosano was openly grinning.

“Annoying? Annoying? If you actually showed up to class on time, maybe you wouldn’t have to hear me yelling!”

The boy—who Dazai now assumed was either fearless or just had zero respect for authority—shrugged, walking inside like he had all the time in the world. “Not my problem.”

The teacher rubbed his temples like he was questioning all his life choices. “Take your seat, Nakahara. And for once, keep your mouth shut.”

The boy—Nakahara—strolled past the rows of desks like he owned the place. As he passed Dazai, his sharp blue eyes flickered toward her for half a second before moving on.

Ranpo leaned in, whispering, “That’s Chuuya.”

Dazai didn’t respond.

The teacher, still looked like he wanted to strangle someone, took a deep breath and turned back to the board.

“As I was saying before the unnecessary interruptions—” his gaze flickered toward Chuuya, who looked completely unbothered, “—today, we’ll be reviewing last week’s material before moving forward.”

Dazai let out a slow exhale, finally able to relax—at least a little.

Not even ten minutes into this class and she had already been accused of talking, witnessed an argument, and been forcibly adopted by two classmates. Great start.

She glanced to her side. Ranpo had pulled out a notebook, but instead of taking notes, he was just… doodling. Little exaggerated faces, probably meant to be the teacher. She peeked over his shoulder—yep. One of them even had steam coming out of its ears.

“You don’t actually take notes?” she whispered.

Ranpo smirked. “Don’t need to. Like I said—genius.”

Dazai rolled her eyes but didn’t bother responding. Instead, she glanced at Yosano, who, unlike Ranpo, was actually writing something down.

The lesson dragged on. The teacher talked, wrote things on the board, occasionally sighed like he hated his job. Dazai half-listened, but mostly, she was just counting the minutes until this class was over.

She had no idea how long had passed when Ranpo suddenly leaned toward her again, whispering, “You should sit with us at break.”

Dazai blinked. “Uh—”

“You should,” Yosano agreed, not even looking up from her notebook. “Come on, pretty girl, you’ll fit perfectly.”

Dazai stiffened. There she goes again.

She glanced between the two of them. She hadn’t planned on making friends—actually, she had been actively trying to avoid it—but somehow, these two had already decided she was part of their group.

Ranpo grinned. “You do want to, right?”

Dazai hesitated. Did she?

She had told herself she’d just focus on school, not get involved with anyone. But now, sitting here, with Ranpo looking at her like he already knew she’d say yes and Yosano casually calling her pretty girl like it was second nature, she felt…

Well.

Maybe just one break wouldn’t hurt.

She sighed, looking away. “I guess.”

Ranpo smirked. “Knew it.”

Yosano chuckled. “You’re cute when you pretend you don’t want to be here.”

Dazai groaned, resting her head on her desk.

⸻

10:45 AM

Dazai had never been so grateful for a lesson to end.

The teacher, still looking vaguely irritated, finally put down his chalk. “That’s it for today. We’ll continue tomorrow—assuming some of you actually decide to pay attention next time.” His gaze flickered toward Chuuya, who didn’t react, and then toward Dazai, Ranpo, and Yosano, who definitely weren’t paying attention.

Dazai barely had time to process the fact that class was over before she felt hands grab onto her arms.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ranpo announced cheerfully, yanking her up from her seat.

“What—hey—” Dazai started, but before she could protest, Yosano had already grabbed her other arm.

“Come on, pretty girl, don’t act like you’re not coming,” Yosano teased, giving her an easy smile.

Dazai sighed, dragging her feet slightly as they pulled her toward the door. “I never actually agreed to this.”

“You did, though,” Ranpo said smugly.

“I didn’t.”

“You did,” he corrected. “You said, and I quote, ‘I guess.’ That’s basically a yes.”

Dazai rolled her eyes. “You twisted my words.”

Ranpo grinned. “I interpreted your words. Big difference.”

“You literally—”

“Anyway,” Yosano interrupted, adjusting her grip on Dazai’s arm like she had no plans of letting go, “you’ll like our spot. It’s quiet. Not a lot of people around.”

Dazai gave her a skeptical look. “You two don’t exactly seem like ‘quiet spot’ people.”

Yosano smirked. “We contain multitudes.”

Dazai scoffed but didn’t argue.

The three of them weaved through the crowded hallway, and despite herself, Dazai found that it wasn’t… awful.

She wasn’t used to this—having people who automatically decided she belonged with them. She’d been expecting to spend the first few weeks alone, drifting through classes and keeping to herself. But somehow, Ranpo and Yosano had made that impossible within the first hour.

Maybe it wasn’t terrible.

She was about to say something when a strange feeling washed over her—like someone was watching her.

Almost instinctively, she glanced back.

At the far end of the classroom, still seated at his desk, was Chuuya.

He was looking at her.

But not just looking.

His gaze was steady, unwavering—like he wasn’t just seeing her, but actually taking her in. His blue eyes flickered with something Dazai couldn’t quite place, something deep and unreadable.

But what startled her the most was how he looked at her.

Like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Dazai’s breath caught slightly in her throat.

For a second, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

Just—eye contact.

A moment stretched between them, silent but heavy, charged with something Dazai didn’t have a name for.

And then, before she could think too much about it, she broke the stare, turning back around sharply.

She didn’t look back again.

“Something wrong?” Ranpo asked, glancing at her curiously.

Dazai shook her head. “Nothing.”

Ranpo hummed, clearly not convinced, but he didn’t press.

Instead, he grinned. “So, Dazai, tell us something about yourself.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Something interesting.”

She considered that for a moment. “I hate mornings.”

Ranpo snorted. “Not that interesting. Try again.”

Dazai sighed. “I like red.”

Yosano glanced at her. “Red, huh? That’s a good color.”

“My favorite,” Dazai admitted.

Ranpo hummed. “Alright, alright. You’re getting there. One interesting fact isn’t enough, though. You gotta give us more.”

Dazai rolled her eyes. “Why?”

“Because we’re friends,” Ranpo said simply. “And that’s what friends do.”

Dazai blinked.

Friends?

Just like that? So easily?

She stared at him for a second, unsure how to respond.

Yosano nudged her lightly. “Come on, it’s not that hard. You know, normal things. Hobbies, things you like, things you don’t like…”

Dazai exhaled. “Fine. I like books.”

“Ooh, now we’re getting somewhere,” Ranpo said, nodding approvingly. “What kind?”

“Mystery,” Dazai answered automatically.

Ranpo grinned. “Good taste.”

Dazai narrowed her eyes. “If I had said any other genre, would you have said ‘bad taste’?”

“Probably,” Ranpo admitted.

Dazai sighed. “Unbelievable.”

Yosano laughed. “You’ll get used to him.”

Dazai wasn’t so sure about that.

They finally reached the courtyard, stepping outside into the open air. The school grounds were sprawling, with students scattered in groups, chatting and eating. The breeze was cool, but the sun was warm.

Ranpo led them toward a more secluded spot, shaded by a large tree. It was surprisingly quiet, away from the noise of the rest of the school.

Yosano sat down first, stretching her arms. “See? Told you. Nice and peaceful.”

Dazai hesitated, then sat down next to her. “Not bad.”

Ranpo flopped onto the grass, looking smug. “I knew you’d come around.”

Dazai rolled her eyes. “You dragged me here. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You had a choice,” Ranpo corrected. “You just didn’t fight hard enough.”

Dazai gave him a look. “I literally fought.”

Ranpo grinned. “Not hard enough.”

Yosano chuckled, pulling out a small container of food. “You’ll get used to us.”

Dazai sighed. “So I’ve been told.”

She leaned back slightly, letting herself relax for the first time that day. Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be so bad.

But still…

Her mind drifted back to earlier.

To the way Chuuya had looked at her.

To the way his gaze had lingered, steady and unshaken.

To the way, for just a second, she had felt like the only person in the room.

She shook the thought away.

She had more important things to focus on.

Like the fact that she had, somehow, unwillingly, already been pulled into Ranpo and Yosano’s orbit.

Dazai had just started to relax.

Ranpo and Yosano had finally stopped interrogating her, and the shade of the tree was surprisingly comfortable. Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be the worst break ever.

But, of course, she wasn’t that lucky.

Footsteps approached. Multiple.

Ranpo didn’t even look up. “Ah. Here comes the rest of them.”

Dazai blinked. “The rest?”

Before she could get clarification, a new voice cut in.

“Ranpo, are you skipping again?”

Dazai turned to see a tall guy with blonde hair and glasses, looking thoroughly exasperated, a notebook tucked under his arm like it was an extension of himself.

Ranpo sighed dramatically. “Kunikida, it’s break time. How can I be skipping if there’s nothing to skip?”

“You could be studying.”

“I already know everything.”

Kunikida gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

Dazai barely had time to process this new person before another boy—shorter, with messy silver hair and bright golden eyes—awkwardly hovered next to him. He looked… unsure. Like he hadn’t fully decided if he wanted to be here or not.

Behind him, another guy—this one with brownish-red hair, walking with a confident stride—stood next to a girl with long dark hair, who practically clung to his side.

All of them stopped a few feet away, staring at her.

Dazai suddenly felt very outnumbered.

Kunikida adjusted his glasses. “Who’s this?”

Dazai blinked.

Ranpo waved a hand lazily. “This is Dazai.”

“Ah,” Kunikida said, nodding slightly before turning back to her. “I assume you’re the transfer student from this morning?”

Dazai hesitated. “Uh—yeah.”

The boy with silver hair perked up slightly. “Oh! So that’s why I didn’t recognize you. I’m Atsushi, by the way.”

“Dazai,” she said automatically. “Dazai Osamu.”

The other boy—red-haired, looking slightly more smug—grinned. “Junichirou Tanizaki. And this is Naomi.”

The girl next to him—Naomi, apparently—tilted her head, giving Dazai an appraising look before smiling. “Ooh, you’re pretty!”

Dazai nearly groaned. Not again.

Yosano smirked, nudging her lightly. “Told you, pretty girl. It’s not just me.”

Dazai sighed. “Is this going to be a thing?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Naomi giggled.

Dazai decided she was never going to win this battle.

Instead, she glanced back at the group. “So, uh. You all hang out together?”

“More or less,” Kunikida said. “We have different classes, but we always meet here at break.”

“Not by choice, though,” Ranpo added.

“You absolutely choose to be here,” Kunikida said flatly.

Ranpo ignored him.

Atsushi glanced at Dazai curiously. “So, um. Where did you transfer from?”

Dazai hesitated. “Just… another city.”

Atsushi blinked. “Oh. Okay.”

Tanizaki leaned forward slightly. “What made you come here?”

Dazai shrugged. “Felt like it.”

“…Felt like it?” Kunikida repeated, skeptical.

“Mhm.”

Naomi pouted. “You’re being so mysterious.”

Dazai smirked. “Maybe I like being mysterious.”

“Ooooh,” Naomi hummed. “I like her.”

Ranpo nodded sagely. “She’s alright.”

Dazai shot him a dry look. “Wow. Such high praise.”

Yosano chuckled. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I doubt that,” Dazai muttered.

Atsushi, still looking like he had more questions, hesitated. “So… do you like it here so far?”

Dazai thought about that.

She had expected this to be awful—new school, new people, no idea what to expect. But somehow, she had already been claimed by this weird group, like they had just decided she belonged before she even had a say in it.

It wasn’t what she had planned.

But it wasn’t bad.

She shrugged. “It’s…okay.”

Tanizaki raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

Dazai smirked. “I like being vague.”

“You are mysterious,” Naomi giggled.

Dazai exhaled. “That’s not what I meant—”

She trailed off, something catching her attention in the distance.

At another bench, a little farther away, was Chuuya.

And he wasn’t alone.

Four girls and one guy were gathered around him.

One girl had long blonde hair, twirling a strand around her finger as she spoke to him. Another had red hair, shorter, a little spiky. A third had black hair, sharp eyes, looking amused but not overly interested. The last girl—who looked a bit older, with wavy red hair—watched the group with a knowing smirk.

The guy was taller, lean but well-built, with black hair streaked with red, looking both bored and half-amused at the same time.

Chuuya himself was leaning back on the bench, one arm draped over the backrest, looking like he wasn’t particularly engaged in the conversation. But still—he wasn’t ignoring them, either.

Dazai huffed out a small laugh, tilting her head slightly.

“Heh. That Chuuya must be popular with girls.”

The words slipped out before she fully thought them through, but it was hard not to notice. The way the blonde twirled her hair, the way the red-haired girl leaned a little too close, the way even the black-haired girl—though less obvious—seemed at ease in his presence. Even the older redhead smirked at him like she knew something no one else did.

Whatever it was, Chuuya clearly had it.

The others, however, didn’t seem remotely interested in discussing it.

“Mhm,” Ranpo hummed, sounding completely indifferent. “Just don’t mind Chuuya.”

Dazai raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

“Vague on purpose,” Yosano said smoothly.

Atsushi shifted awkwardly, looking like he wanted to say something but decided against it. Tanizaki gave a light shrug, while Naomi just smiled as if she knew exactly what was being left unsaid.

Dazai narrowed her eyes slightly. “Huh. You guys are acting like it’s some big secret.”

“Not a secret,” Kunikida corrected, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Just not something worth talking about.”

Which, in Dazai’s opinion, only made it more interesting.

She cast another glance toward Chuuya.

He was still surrounded, still lounging against the bench like he didn’t have a care in the world. But for the briefest moment—so brief that Dazai almost thought she imagined it—his gaze flickered toward her.

It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t that long, steady look that made her feel like she was being studied. This was quick, subtle—a glance, nothing more.

But still.

Something about it made her exhale softly before turning back to her own group.

“Fine, fine,” she said, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “I won’t ask.”

Ranpo smirked. “Smart choice.”

“But,” she added, smirking slightly, “that just means I’ll have to figure it out myself.”

Yosano chuckled. “I like her.”

Naomi nodded. “Me too!”

Atsushi looked mildly terrified.

Kunikida sighed. “Of course you do.”

Tanizaki grinned. “I think she fits in just fine.”

Dazai arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And here I thought I was being interrogated like an outsider.”

“You are an outsider,” Ranpo pointed out. “For now.”

Dazai scoffed. “How generous.”

Yosano leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “You’re interesting, though.”

“Am I?”

“Mhm.” She smirked. “You act like you don’t care, but you’re already curious.”

Dazai’s smirk didn’t waver. “Maybe I just like messing with people.”

“See?” Yosano chuckled. “Interesting.”

Dazai sighed, shaking her head. “You guys are something else.”

Ranpo grinned. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Kunikida exhaled sharply, clearly reaching his limit. “Alright, enough. We still have afternoon classes, and some of us actually take school seriously.” He shot a look at Ranpo, who grinned wider.

Dazai smirked. “How tragic.”

Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to be a problem, aren’t you?”

Dazai grinned. “I try my best.”

Yosano laughed. “Yeah, she’s gonna fit right in.”

Dazai wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But either way—she wasn’t going anywhere.

____

11:15 AM

Dazai sighed as she walked with the group, hands stuffed into her blazer pockets.

“So, what class now?” she asked, not particularly interested but figuring she should at least pretend to be engaged in her own schedule.

“Music,” Ranpo answered without looking up.

Dazai blinked. “Music?”

“Yep,” Yosano confirmed. “We get combined with other classes for it. Bigger group, bigger mess.”

Dazai groaned. “Great. More people.”

Kunikida sighed as if this conversation alone was giving him a headache. “You do realize you’re in a school, right?”

“Tragic, isn’t it?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Dazai smirked but didn’t argue.

They continued moving through the crowded halls, students rushing in every direction. The school felt way too big, and honestly, if she wasn’t following them, she was sure she’d get lost.

She was half-distracted when she heard it.

“Oi.”

A voice.

Sharp, smooth, confident—cutting through the noise like it knew it would be heard.

Dazai blinked and turned around.

There, standing a few feet away, was Chuuya.

Chuuya was alone this time—well, technically alone. His group was there, but they weren’t crowding him like before. They stood back, talking amongst themselves, leaving Chuuya standing slightly ahead of them.

And he was looking right at her.

Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Chuuya didn’t say anything at first.

Instead, he lifted his hand.

Something small dangled from his fingers.

It took Dazai a second to realize what it was.

Her phone charm.

Her red maple leaf charm.

Chuuya barely even looked at it. “You dropped this.”

And then, instead of handing it to her, he let go.

The charm fell, hitting the ground with a soft clink.

Dazai stared at it.

Then at him.

Chuuya, not looking particularly bothered, just shoved his hands into his pockets.

Dazai blinked, then scoffed. “Hell—”

But before she could finish, Chuuya rolled his eyes—like she was the one being ridiculous—then turned around and walked away.

Just like that.

Just walked away.

No explanation. No parting comment. Nothing.

Ranpo watched the whole exchange and exhaled through his nose. “Hah. Don’t mind Chuuya.”

Yosano crossed her arms. “Seriously, what is wrong with Chuuya these last days?”

Dazai huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Mhm. I won’t.”

And yet, she still crouched down and picked up the charm.

She turned it over in her fingers for a moment before slipping it into her pocket.

When she looked back up, Chuuya had already disappeared into the crowd.

11:20 AM

Dazai walked into the classroom alongside the others, eyes lazily scanning the room.

It was spacious, with sunlight streaming in through large windows on the far wall. Instruments lined the sides—guitars, keyboards, even a drum set tucked into the corner. A grand piano sat at the front, its polished surface reflecting the overhead lights.

Some students were already seated, chatting in small groups, while others stood around, clearly in no rush to sit down.

Dazai didn’t really care where she sat, so she let Ranpo and Yosano lead her toward a cluster of seats near the middle.

As she dropped into her chair, a voice—pleasant and warm—called out from the front of the room.

“Who are you?”

Dazai blinked and looked up.

Dazai tilted her head slightly. “Me?”

The teacher smiled. “Yes, you. You’re new, aren’t you?”

Dazai nodded. “Dazai. Dazai Osamu. Transfer student.”

The teacher’s smile widened. “Well, welcome, Dazai! I’m Mori-sensei. You’re in good hands.”

Dazai blinked.

She wasn’t used to teachers being… nice.

Ranpo smirked beside her. “Mori-sensei’s cool. As long as you don’t slack off too much.”

Dazai sighed. “Ah. So there’s a limit.”

Mori-sensei chuckled. “I do expect my students to participate. But I also believe music should be fun.”

Dazai hummed. “That’s… surprising.”

Before Mori-sensei could respond, the door to the classroom swung open with force.

The entire room went silent.

Everyone turned.

And there, standing in the doorway like he owned the place, was Chuuya.

His red tie was a little loose, his blazer unbuttoned. His piercings caught the light as he tilted his head slightly, hands still stuffed into his pockets.

Mori-sensei exhaled, clearly already familiar with him. “Nakahara.”

Chuuya blinked, looking entirely unbothered. “Mori.”

The class collectively winced at his lack of honorific.

Mori-sensei, however, just smiled sweetly. “You’re late, Nakahara.”

Chuuya shrugged. “And?”

A tense pause.

Mori-sensei’s smile didn’t falter, but there was something dangerous behind it. “And I was just saying how much I expect participation in my class.”

Chuuya smirked. “And I was just thinking about how I don’t care.”

No one moved. No one spoke.

Except for Dazai.

Who—without warning—laughed out loud.

It wasn’t a quiet chuckle.

It was a full, unapologetic laugh, like she had just witnessed something truly hilarious.

Chuuya’s head snapped toward her.

For a moment, he just… looked at her.

Not glaring. Not scowling.

Just looking.

His sharp blue eyes locked onto hers, studying her like she was some kind of puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet.

Dazai smirked, tilting her head slightly, but said nothing.

And after a long, unreadable moment—without a word—Chuuya rolled his eyes, turned away, and slumped into a seat at the back.

“Alright, everyone! Before we get started with today’s lesson, I have a very special announcement.”

The murmurs in the room quieted as students turned to him, some looking interested, others just waiting to get this over with.

Mori-sensei smiled—a sharp, knowing smile.

“As some of you may have heard, our school has decided to host a battle of the bands next month,” he said, voice smooth and calm. “Each class will form their own band, and the winners will receive a very special prize.”

Dazai, who had been lazily leaning back in her chair, raised an eyebrow.

“A band?” Ranpo muttered beside her, sounding intrigued. “That’s new.”

Yosano smirked. “Sounds like fun.”

The class immediately broke into excited murmurs.

“A band? We’re actually forming a band?”

“What’s the prize?”

“Who’s gonna be the singer?”

Mori-sensei let them chatter for a moment before clearing his throat. “Yes, yes, I know this is a lot to take in. But let me explain.”

He leaned against his desk, ever the picture of casual authority.

“Each class will be selecting a singer, a guitarist, a bassist, a drummer, and possibly a keyboardist—if we can find one.” He glanced around the room. “The best of the best will compete against other classes. And, of course, the winners will receive something… special.”

A few students perked up at that.

“What kind of special?” someone asked.

Mori-sensei’s smirk widened. “That, my dear students, is a surprise.”

Dazai narrowed her eyes slightly. He’s enjoying this way too much.

She could already tell—this wasn’t just some normal school event. Mori-sensei had plans.

“Now,” Mori continued, flipping through a folder, “we need to assign roles. And, as luck would have it…” He paused for effect before looking directly at Dazai.

“Dazai, looking at your records from your old school… you seem to be quite talented in multiple areas.”

Dazai stiffened.

The entire class turned to her.

She blinked. “I—”

Mori-sensei’s smile sharpened. “Singing, guitar, bass… it seems like you’ve done it all.”

More whispers.

Dazai felt cornered.

She did not like where this was going.

“I wouldn’t say talented,” she muttered.

Mori ignored her. “In fact, your music teacher at your old school described you as—and I quote—‘an unpolished genius who refuses to apply herself.’”

Ranpo snorted. “That sounds about right.”

Dazai shot him a look.

Mori-sensei chuckled. “Which is why, naturally, I think you should be our singer.”

Dazai blinked. “I—wait—what?”

“She’s a singer?”

“Wait, someone from our class can actually sing?”

Dazai groaned, rubbing her temples.

Mori-sensei, looking far too entertained, tilted his head slightly. “What do you say, Dazai?”

“I say I have better things to do.”

Mori’s smirk didn’t falter. “Oh? Like what?”

Dazai opened her mouth. Then paused.

…Damn it.

She didn’t actually have a good excuse.

Mori-sensei knew it.

“Come now,” he said smoothly. “It would be such a shame to waste your talent.”

Dazai narrowed her eyes. “Sounds like you’re manipulating me, sensei.”

Mori smiled. “Oh, not at all. I’m simply… encouraging you.”

Dazai stared at him.

Mori stared back.

The class waited.

The silence stretched.

Finally, with a long, suffering sigh, Dazai slumped in her chair.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll do it.”

Mori-sensei clapped his hands together. “Wonderful!”

More murmurs. Some students looked impressed. Others curious.

Dazai, however, just rested her chin on her hand, glaring at nothing in particular.

She had walked right into that one.

Then—

A voice, casual and uninterested, cut through the noise.

“I can be the bass player for all I care.”

The class turned.

Dazai blinked.

Chuuya, sitting at the back, had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

He wasn’t even looking at anyone in particular—just staring off like this whole thing was a minor inconvenience.

Dazai tilted her head, eyes flickering toward him.

Chuuya sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Whatever. Might as well do something.”

Dazai studied him for a moment.

Their eyes met.

Chuuya held the stare for half a second before looking away.

Dazai smirked slightly.

Interesting.

“Now,” he said smoothly, “we still need to fill the other positions. Dazai will be our singer, and Nakahara will be on bass. That leaves guitar, drums, and any other instruments we might need.”

Dazai sighed, slumping further into her chair.

She could feel the attention on her. Even though Mori had moved on, people were still whispering about her.

“Did you know Dazai could sing?”

“No, but apparently, she can do everything.”

“She doesn’t seem like the type, though…”

Dazai rolled her eyes and propped her chin on her hand. This is going to be annoying.

Mori, of course, ignored the chatter. His eyes scanned the room, calculating.

“Now, for the guitarist…”

A few hands shot up immediately.

“I can do it!” someone called.

“Pick me!”

Mori chuckled, looking far too amused by their enthusiasm. “Ah, how wonderful! Volunteers!”

He gestured toward the first student. “Alright, Kunikida, do you play?”

Kunikida adjusted his glasses. “I practice.”

Mori raised an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

Kunikida sighed. “I can play decently. But I wouldn’t say I’m amazing.”

Mori hummed, nodding. “Alright, we’ll consider you. Anyone else?”

A boy with messy brown hair raised his hand. “I play, too. I have my own guitar at home.”

Mori pointed at him. “Tanizaki, right?”

The boy nodded.

“Good, good. Anyone else?”

Another student raised their hand, but before they could speak—

“Yosano should do it,” Ranpo announced, grinning lazily.

Yosano blinked. “Hah?”

“You play, don’t you?” Ranpo asked, tilting his head. “I swear I’ve seen you with a guitar before.”

Yosano scoffed. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to do this.”

Mori, however, was already intrigued. “Ah, Yosano, you play?”

Yosano gave Ranpo a murderous glare before sighing. “Yeah. A little.”

Mori smiled. “And would you like to join?”

“No.”

“Great! You’re our guitarist!”

“Wait—what?”

Ranpo burst out laughing as Yosano groaned, rubbing her temples. “This is actually ridiculous.”

Dazai smirked. “Welcome to the club, pretty girl.”

Yosano kicked her chair.

Mori, of course, continued as if nothing happened. “Now, we need a drummer.”

Silence.

No one raised their hand.

Mori sighed dramatically. “Really? No drummers? How tragic.”

Then—

“I can do it.”

The voice came from the back.

Everyone turned.

Atsushi, who had been completely silent until now, raised a hesitant hand.

“You?” Kunikida asked, raising an eyebrow.

Atsushi nodded. “Yeah. I used to play a bit… but I don’t know if I’m good enough.”

Mori waved a hand. “Nonsense! We’ll find out soon enough!”

Atsushi still looked nervous, but Naomi—who sat beside him—grinned. “Come on, Atsushi, you’ll be great!”

Atsushi sighed. “I guess I can try.”

Mori smiled. “Perfect! Now we just need a keyboardist.”

More silence.

Mori waited.

Nothing.

Dazai tapped her fingers against the desk.

Then—

Ranpo stretched his arms behind his head. “Guess I can do it.”

Mori’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, Ranpo! You play?”

Ranpo grinned. “I do everything, sensei.”

Dazai snorted. “Sure you do.”

“Hey,” Ranpo shrugged, “I’m serious. I used to take piano lessons as a kid. I’m not amazing, but I can play.”

Mori beamed. “Then it’s settled! Ranpo will be on keyboard!”

Ranpo just smirked, clearly unbothered by being roped into this.

Dazai, however, sighed dramatically. “This whole thing feels suspiciously forced.”

Mori clapped his hands again, ignoring her. “Alright, then! We have our band!”

The class erupted into murmurs-it was so annoying.

“This is gonna be fun.”

“I can’t believe those are our band members.”

“Nakahara on bass, huh? That’ll be interesting.”

Dazai stretched her legs out, glancing at Chuuya.

He was sitting back in his chair, arms crossed, looking completely indifferent.

Like this was just another annoying task he had been forced into.

Their eyes met.

Dazai tilted her head. “You sigh a lot.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes. “And you talk a lot.”

Dazai smirked. “Touché.”

Mori-sensei, meanwhile, looked far too pleased.

“Alright! We’ll start practice next week! You’re all dismissed for now!”

Dazai sighed.

“But we still have the rest of the lesson left—”

The room instantly erupted into a chorus of groans, whistling, and the loud chorus of the students collectively booing.

“Come on, Mori-sensei! We just picked our band! We can’t do this!”

“Yeah, let us out of here already!”

“Forget the lesson! We need to practice!”

Mori-sensei just raised his hand, looking far too calm as he adjusted his glasses. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he said with a smile that looked almost too entertained by the chaos. “You can do whatever you want for the rest of the period. Just no destruction, okay?”

A cheer rang out, and students immediately started pulling out their phones or chatting excitedly.

Dazai slumped back in her chair, feeling oddly detached from the energy of the class. She glanced at her classmates. Ranpo had already stretched out on his desk, pretending to nap but clearly still aware of everything. Yosano was talking to Naomi and Atsushi, and Tanizaki was animatedly discussing band roles with Kunikida.

Dazai looked over at the back of the class, where Chuuya sat alone, completely still, eyes half-closed. His posture was rigid, and despite the noise around him, he looked completely detached.

Curiosity gnawed at her. She stood up, moving over to his desk.

“Hey, what’s your problem with me?” Dazai asked, leaning casually against the edge of his desk.

Chuuya barely glanced at her. “Don’t piss me off now,” he muttered, his tone colder than she’d expected.

Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this alone, except during breaks?”

For a long moment, Chuuya didn’t respond. He just stared straight ahead, his arms crossed.

Dazai pressed on. “Are you always like this?”

“Are you always this ugly excuse of a bitch until you put on makeup?”

oh.

Oh.

That actually hurt.

“I—uhm, I’ll go back to my seat then… uh, yeah, good luck!” Dazai stammered, her voice awkward as she quickly turned to head back to her spot.

“Wai—” Chuuya’s words cut off sharply, his face flushed with regret. He didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t want to say that.

Dazai just prayed no one else had heard it.

Please, dear god.

“Dazai,” Chuuya called one last time. Dazai didn’t move, even though she wanted to. She kept her back to him, pretending not to hear him.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly.

Dazai took a deep breath, turning just enough to throw a quick, forced smile in his direction. “Y-yeah, no, it’s okay. I’ll, uhm, go back to Yosano—yeah!”

“Daz—”

“Forget everything! Uh, good luck with everything,” she blurted out, already regretting it as the words left her mouth.

Dazai didn’t wait for a response. She turned and walked back to her seat as quickly as she could, sitting down with a soft sigh.

It hurt. But it didn’t hurt much. She’d been through worse. She was used to this.

The class had moved on, and so did she, though a small, aching part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that it hurt her.

____________

Fucking finally. School had ended. Finally.

Dazai sighed as she grabbed her bag and stuffed everything in. Ranpo and Yosano were already gone, like always.

And Chuuya—ugh, she didn’t know where he was, and she really didn’t care.

“It’s okay, Dazai,” she thought, trying to shake off the nagging feeling in her chest.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked toward the door. Her phone charm jingled with every step, making those annoying little sounds. She hated it, but the color was nice, so she didn’t mind it too much.

She reached for the door handle, but just as she pulled it open—bam!

Dazai bumped straight into someone, her entire bag slipping from her shoulder and crashing to the ground. She lost her balance and stumbled, landing on her knees with a soft thud.

And, of course, it had to be Chuuya.

“Ugh, seriously?” Dazai muttered, brushing herself off, trying to stand.

Chuuya stood there for a moment, eyes wide, before his lips curled into a small laugh. “Watch where you’re going, Dazai.”

Dazai gave him a sideways grin, pushing herself back up. “Shut up you idiot” she said, her tone playful, despite the small annoyance that lingered from the fall.

Chuuya froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Idiot?” He raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down. “be more creative dazai.”

Dazai blinked, staring at him for a second. Then, as if everything had clicked, she smirked. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

She bent down to grab her bag, determined to do it herself.

But as soon as she tried to stand, her legs wobbled again, and she fell right back down.

Chuuya, looking a little surprised, stepped forward, offering his hand. “Need help?”

“No, I got it,” Dazai muttered, annoyed with herself. But before she could try again, Chuuya’s hand was already there, too close for her liking.

“Come on, Dazai. I don’t mind.”

“No, I—” She tried to push herself up again but only ended up stumbling. Chuuya chuckled softly, taking her hand without giving her a chance to protest.

“Alright, alright. Here, I’ll help.” He pulled her up easily, but she still felt awkward, especially with how calm he seemed.

Dazai straightened up, dusting herself off. “Thanks,” she said, even if she didn’t really want to admit it.

She grabbed her bag, slinging it back onto her shoulder, but then she paused and looked over at Chuuya.

“Watch your step next time, boy,” she said with a smirk, her words still teasing.

Chuuya gave her an amused look, shaking his head.

„Boy?I’m a girl Dazai”