Motto

Time always slipped by quickly when I wasn't paying attention. As usual, I read, went on missions, and looked things up.

The younger students who arrived died one after another, and the older students kept leaving this world, too.

For a while, I couldn't make sense of it anymore, and I felt a little lost. Nullification was certainly useful. I never failed a single mission, always finding the best solution and securing the best outcome.

I couldn't see who I was, nor did I have the heart to save anyone. I wandered this world alone, and occasionally, at New Year's, while everyone laughed and played, I sat on the roof with Teacher Yaga and watched the stars.

I thought life always had its share of sudden, excessive, incomprehensible things, just like what I had become.

If anything had changed, it was probably that I'd taken up suicide again. I could understand why Osamu Dazai had always been so fond of the idea.

Drowning, hanging, gas, jumping off cliffs, slitting my wrists... I tried countless times, but whether it was because of Osamu Dazai's built-in buff or something else, I never actually died.

Still, I kept at it with tireless enthusiasm in the days that followed.

I hung myself from a southeastern branch at the Headquarters of the Jujutsu Society Higher-Ups, giving those higher-ups a fright.

I went straight into the water after finishing a mission, sending the assistant supervisor searching for miles, only for them to discover that I'd already drifted downriver into the city.

I tried slitting my wrists somewhere with cursed spirits, testing whether my blood could erase them.

And so on and so forth. As time passed and faded away, I did these things countless times.

But perhaps, occasionally, I felt a tiny bit hurt and sad. Occasionally, I broke down a little or grew a little frustrated. Only a little.

I lived without purpose or direction. I didn't know why I'd appeared in this world, nor how to leave it.

By now, the only thing keeping me going was the desire to meet those main characters. That was all.

After all, I'd once genuinely loved Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, and Shoko Ieiri-the wild, youthful trio from Jujutsu High.

That single wish kept me alive, year after year.

I never regretted what I'd done, but I was filled with regret for what I'd left undone.

Still, as far as my present circumstances went, I didn't consider myself pitiable, much less pity myself.

There was no need for that, and no reason to dwell on it.

I admitted I wasn't a strong person. Perhaps Osamu Dazai wasn't either. But I'd always considered us two separate people, even if we'd now almost completely merged.

Pain, sorrow, resentment, or anything else-I never needed someone else to witness what I'd endured and lament on my behalf.

There were plenty of people more unfortunate than me. I had to admit that my pain and sorrow weren't fake, but things weren't really that bad. No, perhaps I couldn't say that.

To my dear ladies and gentlemen: your favor was the honor of my life.

"How long has it been?"

The midnight breeze still reached my window. Nozomu Sakai's and Sōsuke Mizukawa's rooms had already been given to other people.

In these few short years, I'd become synonymous with inscrutability and masterful planning, and those higher-ups had grown even warier of me.

But none of that had ever been worth my attention or concern.

I was still that stray dog who'd lost his way, wandering this world without any purpose, waiting for death to arrive.

As the years passed, perhaps the only thing that hadn't changed was the Red Scarf, once stained with blood, its excellent fabric barely altered no matter how many times I washed it.

"Ah, the weather's lovely today. Why don't I try hanging myself?"

Watching the sun rise little by little, I disregarded both the new students arriving today and Teacher Yaga's repeated, emphatic warnings, and resolutely picked up a rope.

There were plenty of top-quality crooked trees, but my favorite was still the one where I'd first met Teacher Yaga.

Ah, what a wonderful tree. It had carried two years of my life and nearly hanged me to death countless times. Unfortunately, perhaps because of that buff, I always ended up being saved.

But that was all right. I firmly believed I'd be able to die today!

And embrace the beautiful Sanzu River.

So I hummed Lovers' Suicide Song again, cheerfully carried my rope, happily slipped past Teacher Yaga, and merrily hung myself from a southeastern branch.

The morning sunshine felt warm. Although I wasn't particularly fond of light, this hazy, drowsy feeling didn't seem too bad.

My Jujutsu High uniform, which I'd altered into a long coat, fluttered in the breeze again. Feeling the suffocation tightening around my neck, I resolved to hang myself to death on this crooked branch.

Until a sudden voice interrupted my comfortable surroundings.

"Someone's killing himself!"

At that ringing shout, I lifted my drooping head slightly and turned my gaze down to the side, where a boy with unusually small eyes and strange bangs stood holding his luggage, staring blankly at me.

This had to be the legendary Suguru Geto. Suguru Geto before he turned evil or became Brain.

"Hi."

I raised a hand and waved at him. Clearly not expecting that response, he started frantically rummaging through his luggage.

Teacher Yaga came charging over at that earlier scream, followed by a white-haired boy swaggering like he owned the place and a girl rummaging in her pocket for cigarettes.

Good, Satoru Gojo-Gojo the Cat-and Miss Shoko Ieiri had arrived, too.

But compared with the three teenagers, who weren't used to my current situation, Teacher Yaga was decidedly brisk and efficient.

He cut the rope, watched me fall, grabbed me by the back of my collar, dragged me in front of the three of them, and punched me as soon as I found my footing.

"Ow! Teacher Yaga, it's been ages since I felt that iron fist of yours."

I rubbed my still-throbbing head, shook it, and complained to Teacher Yaga.

That was a perfectly fair thing to say. Before the cat and the fox arrived, I'd practically been carrying the entire, far-from-peaceful Jujutsu Society on my own.

Still, now that they were here, things should get much easier for me.

Thinking that, I looked back and forth between the three newly arrived students.

Of course, while I looked at them, they were studying me, too. At least things seemed all right. I'd probably left them with a strange impression, just as I had when I first met Teacher Yaga.

But Teacher Yaga cheerfully interrupted our staring contest by giving me another punch...

"Ow! Why did you hit me again?"

I stared at Yaga with deep grievance, as though I could burn a hole through him. Tears forced out by the blow hovered in my eyes, refusing to fall.

"Stop acting. Didn't I tell you not to attempt suicide while the new students were arriving? Not to attempt suicide!"

Having seen me in far too many sorrowful states, Teacher Yaga didn't believe my sudden performance for a second. He looked furious, as though he wanted to punch me again.

This time, though, I cleverly dodged and moved away from him.

"Aaah, Teacher Yaga, I'll die if you don't let me kill myself! Boo-hoo!"

"Then that would be the painless suicide you're after. Not bad."

"Huh? Huh? Teacher Yaga! You never used to be like this. Have we spent so long together that you don't love me anymore?"

"You never used to like suicide this much, either."

Masamichi Yaga meant those first two months after I'd arrived at Jujutsu High, when I could still suppress the assimilation. True, I hadn't attempted suicide then. At least, not in front of them.

But after they died, I spent a long stretch in a state of black sludge. Eventually, after failing to suppress the assimilation again and again, I simply let go. The ending would be the same anyway, wouldn't it?

While the two of us talked, the three behind us maintained a perfectly coordinated formation of blank stares, confusion spreading across their faces.

I didn't know whether they were shocked by the usually steady Teacher Yaga acting so out of character, my refreshingly unconventional method of suicide, or our conversation.

"Ahem. This is your fifth-year senior, Osamu Dazai."

Masamichi Yaga clearly found my stare a little headache-inducing, too. As Jujutsu High's officially recognized problem student, I could often make Teacher Yaga, who'd become so calm and self-controlled, show his anger again.

"Hello, my dear juniors. I'm Dazai, Osamu Dazai. My motto is a refreshing, cheerful, and energetic suicide. So, beautiful young lady, would you be willing to die with me..."

"Ow!"

Yes, Teacher Yaga had hit me again. How many times was that now? This was going too far!

This time, Teacher Yaga gave me no room to speak. He grabbed me, tossed me behind him, and explained on my behalf.

"Don't mind him. Your senior Dazai isn't quite right in the head."

"Hey, hey, Teacher Yaga, that's a bit much-I'm still right here."

"Then stay there and behave!"

"No way-drowning really is the most refreshing option. I'm off, Teacher Yaga."

With that, I cheerfully raced down the mountain, leaving behind a furious Teacher Yaga and the bewildered Jujutsu High trio.

Of course, I wasn't really going off to kill myself. Well, I couldn't quite say that. I just happened to have a mission, happened to need some bandages, and would attempt suicide along the way.

Yep! That's it.

Thinking that, I took out my phone and called over the driver who'd nearly become my personal chauffeur again.

I wondered whether he'd discovered a whole new world. He was extremely interested in driving such a short distance and earning so very much money.

Still, I didn't dislike him. After all, he never asked questions and didn't care what I, his customer, wanted to do. He simply drove in silence.

Honestly, I really, really hated assistant supervisors.

Of course, it wasn't just because they had nothing better to do than try to pry information out of me with such clumsy methods. There were also those blatantly sent by the Jujutsu Society Higher-Ups. One died, another came. One died, another came. After a while, I didn't even want to keep killing them.

"Well, let's go to the supermarket."

I said that casually to the driver, then happily unwound the bandages on my hand and wound them back up, over and over, slowly whiling away this irritating journey.

Still, my little bout of bad temper turned into delight when I found a huge bandage sale at the supermarket.

I happily stocked up on a mountain of bandages, then quietly headed for the mission site with a large bag.

It was just an utterly ordinary cursed spirit, one that would disappear with a casual poke. Was there nobody else in the entire Jujutsu Society?

It felt as though I was the only one handling the special-grade cases. Even for some of the stronger grade 1 cursed spirits, I had to travel enormous distances to deal with them myself.

Rather than stay on this little island, I spent most of my time on overseas assignments, flying here today and there tomorrow, running all over the world.

Yuki Tsukumo really seemed unwilling to deal with anything at all. Although that had given the Jujutsu Society Higher-Ups headaches for ages, it didn't stop her from becoming my second source of headaches.

Occasionally, I passed through Yokohama or went on a mission there.

That place was different from the one in the novels, the anime, and my memories.

Still harboring a tiny, strange hope of finding those five towering buildings there, I must have had something wrong with my head.

Perhaps the only thing that had remained unchanged through the ages was the Chinatown still there, also known as the Chinese Quarter.

Only there could I find even a little of what felt like home to me.

But most of the time, I avoided that street, staying far, far away. I didn't want any part of that world, and I didn't want to meet anyone from my homeland.

I didn't know how to explain it, but I was always a little afraid, always a little unwilling to see them or acknowledge anyone.

After hiding and avoiding it for so long, I sometimes found myself wanting to take a detour altogether.

I often traveled back to Huaxia for work, though most of the time they didn't need me there. After all, they could deal with their troubles themselves.

Still, whenever I felt homesick, I'd often impulsively grab some random mission and run over there.

I didn't care what the mission was. I only cared about the scenery there that resembled my homeland.

Most of the time, it could dispel the distress and frustration of being alone in a foreign land.

"So why did the cursed spirit have to appear in Chinatown?"

I sighed, quietly avoided the glances coming my way, and left.

Honestly, I couldn't quite understand Jujutsu High's uniforms. Didn't wearing all black get unbearably hot in summer?

I certainly felt incredibly hot. Of course, that might have had a lot to do with the scarf around my neck, but I thought the black uniform absorbing sunlight was more to blame. In any case, this couldn't possibly be my fault.

It was noon, when the sun was at its fiercest. I wiped nonexistent sweat off my forehead, grabbed some ice cream to cool down, and nibbled it while planning to take the train back.

"Hmm... I might as well bring Teacher Yaga a prank one."

Murmuring that, I carried a pile of ice pops and prepared to head back. After some thought, I decisively hailed a taxi to make sure I returned faster than the ice pops could melt.

Whatever. Jujutsu sorcerers certainly weren't short of money, even if my wallet always floated away when I went into the water.

Over time, though, Teacher Yaga figured out a solution on his own. He kept all my money with him, then handed me my mission earnings every three days.

That ensured I wouldn't spend everything on the first day of the month, or simply lose it all, leaving me unable to buy everyday necessities.

Honestly, I wasn't a child anymore. I wouldn't do anything like that, right?

Hmm... All right, I actually would. At least Teacher Yaga's reasoning made perfect sense, without a single flaw.

So I tacitly accepted his approach. After all, I didn't care about money-or rather, I'd cared before, but now it didn't matter.

By the time I returned to Jujutsu High, quite a few of the ice pops had inevitably melted. Still, that didn't seem like much of a problem, as long as the ones packed in the middle hadn't melted. I'd deliberately bought lots and lots.

And so, carrying a bag of ice pops, I abruptly barged into the classroom where Teacher Yaga was speaking.

Teacher Yaga: ???

Teacher Yaga: ...

"Osamu Dazai!"

Teacher Yaga glared furiously at me, then looked even more pained when he saw the bag of ice pops I was holding.

"Yes, yes, I'm here, Teacher Yaga. It's so hot today. What if our new juniors get heatstroke?"

"So, ta-da! Look what I brought back! A whole pile of ice pops."

As I spoke, I placed the bag on the lectern, then blinked my large, iris-colored eyes at Teacher Yaga.

"You..."

"Oh, don't be so serious, Teacher Yaga. Besides, there's no class on the new students' first day, right? If there's no class, then I can't be disrupting it."

"Come on, come on! Pick whatever flavor you like."

As I spoke, I swiftly placed the bag in front of the teenagers still sitting in their chairs.

The three, who hadn't had much discipline to begin with, happily scrambled for them. Once they'd secured the ice pops they wanted, they unwrapped them and started eating.

Naturally, the sight gave Masamichi Yaga a headache. Looking at the student he'd raised for three years made that headache even worse.

Eventually, at Osamu Dazai's urging, Masamichi Yaga picked up an ice pop. As soon as he bit into it, he choked on the wasabi inside.

"Cough, cough, cough! Cough!"

"Wow! Teacher Yaga, how did you pick the secret flavor on your very first try?"

I acted utterly casual, but I could barely hide the smile on my face. After suffering years of my torment, Teacher Yaga finally spotted the telltale signs.

Or perhaps he'd simply guessed.

In any case, with bandages in my other hand, I was chased down an entire corridor by the furious Teacher Yaga. Then, to the sound of my cheerful laughter, he finally returned to the classroom where he'd been speaking.

"Not bad, either."

Holding his ice pop, Masamichi Yaga watched my retreating figure, shook his head, and didn't scold me.