Chapter Text
"Cause I have been where you are before,
And I have felt the pain of losing who you are,
And I have died so many times, but I am still alive.
I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday,
And I believe that your head is the only thing in your way,
I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty,
I believe that today it's okay to be not okay."--- I Believe; Christina Perri
There’s a certain sort of charm about Yokohama.
Mizuha’s not a native; having grown up in a town a few hours train ride away from said city, but she still vividly remembers the wonder and awe that had encompassed her the first time she stepped into the city. Three—nearly four years later, the magic still hasn’t faded.
Perhaps it was because Yokohoma came to her as a sort of refuge, a sanctuary firmly away from her parent’s controlling clutches. They had no power here, in this free city. Mizuha would not be dragged home against her will.
There are the downsides, of course, as with every major city in Japan. It’s more prevalent in Yokohoma, the self-dubbed ‘Capitol’ of the Gifted. But aside from a few skirmishes here and there, there’s not much to worry over.
It helps that Au Revoir is tucked away in one of the more suburban areas, well out of chaos’s way. It does make business slower, but Aiko-san has never really cared much about making money aside from the costs of running the cafe, so it doesn’t matter.
The days Mizuha is alone in the cafe, or her presence isn’t required, she spends strolling leisurely through the city. There’s just so much life in Yokohoma; in the old buildings, in the cheerful laughter of the citizens.
Today she’s standing near the same coastline she and Dazai walked down that night. The ocean is different today— sparkling and blue under the unusually good weather, but just as beautiful. Her hair flutters in the wind, making her smile slightly as she gazes at children playing in the sand down below.
Aiko-san will be getting discharged from the hospital today.
Akihiko’s gone to get her in Mizuha’s stead, leaving her with the morning free. With nothing to do, Mizuha had taken the opportunity to take some time for herself for the first time in a long time.
Checking her watch, she notes that she still has two hours before twelve, when Aiko-san and Akihiko will leave the hospital. She has plenty of time until then.
The maroon-haired girl smiles one last time before turning to walk alongside the footpath. It might come as a surprise to many, but Mizuha is more of an introvert than an extrovert. She likes to be alone.
Of course, it’s not often; what with Aiko-san, Akihiko and Maria-chan always around her, but it only makes her treasure those moments of stolen peace more.
Mizuha wouldn’t trade the life, the people she has around her for the world. It’s just that there are times she needs to withdraw; to recharge.
After all, despite not looking it, she’s still only seventeen.
“I’m just a chick; a little chick,” She chuckles to herself as she helps up a small boy who bumps into her. “Careful now, kiddo.”
The boy barely gives her a second chance as he races after his friend, yelling after him. “Thanks, Ne-san! Hey! Don’t leave me behind!”
There are more people out today.
She attributes it to the good weather, smiling as she weaves through the crowd; men and women alike, old and young alike. Yokohama usually boasts murky skies, as if it’s only a hair’s breadth away from crying. Today though, the skies are clear, the bright sun beating down on their heads— hardly feeling like a winter’s day.
It’s brightened up everyone’s moods, it seems, for it clearly does hers too. Mizuha hums as she helps an old lady across the street, gives directions to an odd blonde-haired foreigner, and leads a crying little girl back to her mother.
Isn’t that reason, that curiosity enough to live?
If she closes her eyes, Mizuha remembers the way Dazai’s harrowed gaze had turned that familiar shade of chocolate brown once more. It still glaringly lacked any warmth, to the point it was jarring, but the slivers of sincerity she’d seen in the boy’s eyes had reassured her.
He hadn’t visited after that night, leaving quietly in the morning without waking her. When Mizuha had awoken later that morning, she’d had a thick blanket wrapped around her— the very same one Dazai had had— and her coat folded and placed neatly to the side.
When she’d stepped downstairs fifteen minutes later, still yawning and bleary-eyed, Akihiko had snorted but had said nothing.
All things considered, Osamu Dazai didn’t visit Au Revoir as often as Mizuha thought he would’ve liked. He often appeared on rainy days, wrapped in dark clothing from head to toe, as if he didn’t wish to be noticed by anyone. Though Mizuha had a sneaking suspicion he did it solely so that he could have her fuss over him and dry his hair for him, she also had a feeling Dazai often looked like he was hiding from something.
Like he was being chased.
Or rather, maybe her new friend was just the heir or young master of some random mega-corporation or a kingdom who was visiting her while disguising his identity—
—Or maybe Mizuha’s been watching too many of those movies Maria loves so much.
Either way, Mizuha’s not very worried.
She makes sure to pick up some groceries on her way home— Akihiko’s had this weird obsession with rice crackers lately, and Mizuha would rather be stocked up than be left hanging. There’s also Aiko-san who’s returning, which makes Mizuha pause in front of the chicken aisle, wondering if she should make soup.
In the end, she just ends up getting some ingredients, trying to recall how to make bone broth as she leaves the store. It wasn’t hard…probably.
Until a familiar maroon-haired blur catches her eye and she pauses, her head snapping to the side.
Saku-ni?
Unfortunately, though, Sakunosuke isn’t actually here, and Mizuha merely mistook someone else for him. It still makes her frown slightly though, pausing as she takes a step back to muse about when she last saw her older cousin.
…It’s been a while since I’ve made curry, hasn’t it?
Sakunosuke has been busy lately.
He isn’t very chatty as it is, and it’s usually Mizuha just texting him or occasionally calling him for updates, but lately, he’s been too busy to respond other than a short ‘I’m alive.’ and ‘I’m okay.’. Mizuha isn’t very picky when it comes to communication; living with a cranky old woman and a sarcastic pretty boy does that, but she is a little concerned for her cousin.
Sakunosuke…tends to close off when he’s going through hard times.
Her smile dims a little as she remembers, turning a little bitter. She still vividly remembers how withdrawn and detached Sakunosuke used to be when they were children. Her cousin has always been quiet, but unlike now, it had seemed more ingrained in him rather than a part of his personality.
And how could it not be?
Mizuha would be the first person to admit to the difficulties her cousin had gone through. And all at the hands of the people who should have loved and supported him.
To an extent, she supposes even she herself hadn’t been entirely blameless.
Even if she’d been barely eight when he disappeared.
Five years later, at the age of eighteen, he’d reappeared in their family home, caused a ruckus, hugged her, and left once more. Only later had she realized he’d left a small slip of paper in her pocket; with a number written in it in messy handwriting.
A year later, she’d desperately dial that number in a phone booth in the middle of the night; shaking like a leaf in the winter cold, barely anything on, and she’d breathe a sigh of relief when that familiar stoic voice would echo across the speaker.
Mizuha pauses in her tracks.
…I guess I really should make curry tomorrow then.
Then hazel eyes flash through her mind and she smiles, letting out a fond sigh as she turns around to make her way back towards Au Revoir.
I guess I should make a lot.
The moment Aiko-san takes her first step in Au Revoir, some strange weight lifts off Mizuha’s shoulders.
Once Mizuha returns, she and Maria tag-team to clean Au Revoir from top to bottom in preparation for Aiko-san’s return. Since Akihiko has gone off to the hospital to sign off her discharge papers and bring her home, this leaves Mizuha with the gargantuan task of making sure Aiko-san doesn’t get stressed any more than necessary.
This meant making sure everything was just as the old woman had left it two months ago.
Of course, there were things that just couldn’t have been kept the same, like that ugly fish vase Akihiko had accidentally broken while trying to reach for some cobwebs on the ceiling, or like how Mizuha had accidentally broken a light bulb when she’d tried to hand-pull noodles for the first time.
They were both in for a scolding for that, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world so hey.
Aiko-san’s return was met with much fanfare, and Mizuha has to bite down a chuckle when the old woman’s nose wrinkles with pure disgust at all the get-well-soon gifts adorning her living room.
“The hell is this?”
Akihiko doesn’t miss a beat as he immediately turns to Mizuha and scoffs, “Great, her eyes are messed up now. Let’s just throw her back in there again.”
“You damn brat!”
The harsh smack he receives for that from the spunky old woman tells Mizuha everything she needs to know about Aiko-san’s recovery and Mizuha bites down a grin at their familiar antics. As Aiko-san softens ever slight so, in front of a nervous Maria, Mizuha smiles. It’s just a reminder that everything is going back to normal– just as it had been two months ago.
But that’s not true, now is it?
Mizuha’s smile only widened when she remembered hazel eyes and a familiar boyish smirk.
Yes, sometimes things have changed, and for the better too.
So how, you might ask, did she find herself staring down a kid who looked more like an aggrieved raccoon rather than a person?
Well, it’s simple.
Ryuunosuke Akutagawa makes his entrance in the most discreet way possible. That is, entering Au Revoir and ordering a drink all while glaring holes into Mizuha’s head.
Predictably, Akihiko immediately asks if she stole the poor boy’s first girlfriend or something.
Mizuha snorts.
The first thing Mizuha Hagane notices when she meets Ryuunosuke Akutagawa for the first time is just how small he is.
Bold words coming from her who is dwarfed by the majority of the individuals in her life, but nevertheless, one look at the two-tone haired boy has her biting down the urge to shove some food into him.
But instead, she offers him a small smile, aware that he has a long line behind him waiting to order, and asks, “Good morning, what would you like to order?”
The strange boy wrapped in black stares at her for a long time, before quietly murmuring something about black coffee. She doesn’t fail to notice the way his eyes linger ever so longingly so towards large letters tracing the word tea.
Mizuha smiles.
“Anything else I can get for you?” She asks, pressing a few keys on the register. “Our chef has just pulled a fresh batch of pistachio fig tarts out of the oven.”
Something about his dark expression suddenly changes at the mention of figs, and Mizuha smiles knowingly. It seems Aiko-san and this kid have something in common. After all, the fig tart was made to celebrate the fiery old woman’s return home.
“A slice of the tart then?”
Mizuha doesn’t wait for the boy to answer.
After pointing him in the direction of a few free tables, she turns to prepare the boy’s order. He looks dreadfully malnourished, with ghostly pale skin and sunken cheeks that scream neglect. Even Akihiko casts him another look as Mizuha approaches him.
His lips curl downwards, “I really want to find the person who did his haircut and shake them. Hard .”
(Somewhere, miles away, Dazai sneezes hard.)
Mizuha honestly can’t begrudge Akihiko for his comment for the teenager truly looks like his hair has been through hell and back. It’s cut choppily, with uneven side bangs that frame the side of his face. She doesn’t know if it’s natural, but the bangs are colored white at the ends, which only adds to the malnourished but rabid appearance he boasts.
Why, the moment he’d entered, Akihiko had almost mistaken him for a raccoon and nearly kicked him out.
Which would’ve been funny if the boy hadn’t looked two seconds away from impaling her raven-haired coworker. Perhaps it’s the grey of his eyes that is so similar to Akihiko’s, but the difference between them sets Mizuha on edge.
Ah, it’s dark, just like Dazai’s was that fateful night.
And perhaps Mizuha really is a sucker for kids who look just too damn young to have that kind of eyes that she approaches the thin boy with a wide placating smile, carefully balancing his order between her hands.
“Here you go,” She says gently, placing his plate and mug down in front of him. He eyes it suspiciously, almost as if she might’ve poisoned it, but ultimately nods, grey eyes fixed on the fig tart.
“Do let me know if you need anything else.”
She doesn’t approach the boy for the rest of his stay at Au Revoir that day, despite feeling his observing gaze on her as she serves other customers.
He leaves after a while, quietly placing down a few thousand yen bills on the table before booking it out of there. When Mizuha realizes what he just did, she runs out after him the bills in hand, only to find no one outside.
“Huh,” She blinks owlishly. “Weird.”
She certainly doesn’t expect him to return the very next day, then the day after that, and the day after. Each time quietly ordering the same thing– coffee with fig tart– to the point that Mizuha has to specially ask Akihiko to bake the tart just for him.
He never speaks more than necessary, only fixing Mizuha with that dark gaze heavy with a strange emotion Mizuha doesn’t quite understand, frostily sipping his coffee and forking the remainder of his tart. She knows she should be put off by this strange presence in Au Revoir, especially since his frosty air is making the other customers uncomfortable, and yet something stops her.
Perhaps it’s how he looks at the fig tart with something akin to boyish wonder; as if he’d never imagined affording something like this.
Mizuha knows this look– she knows what that glint means, for there had been a time when she was in the same position– living off on cheese and crackers in her room until Sakunosuke had dragged her out and fed her ramen for the first time.
Safe to say, she’d fallen in love.
Those had perhaps been the hardest moments of her life, right after she was kicked out of home and fled to Yokohoma in the middle of the night, wrapped in the thinnest of layers in the middle of the harsh winter.
Part of her knows that Sakunosuke would’ve helped her more if she’d allowed him, that Aiko-san and Akihiko would’ve flown to her defense– and yet she knows just how stubbornness plagues someone entering teenage years.
Mizuha never said she wasn’t bullheaded, foolish, and reckless.
Akihiko would be happy to regale any and everyone with tales of her exploits, but the fact of the matter was that someone who’d never received help before couldn’t accept it easily either. Mizuha had learned it the hard way, cast aside by her parents who’d only ever taught her to be independent, so she knew she didn’t want someone else to rush in the same way.
For this pale, thin-bodied boy had looked at the fig tart the same way Mizuha had looked at the hot bowl of ramen so long ago.
Mizuha Hagane is an enigma.
From the moment Akutagawa had witnessed Dazai laugh and smile at her; as if she were his equal; as if she received his acknowledgment— he'd been a mess.
But Akutagawa is rational— he is patient, and so he'd started investigating.
But over the course of the week that he's been visiting this small café, Akutagawa is stumped. There’s nothing remotely noteworthy about this common girl. She’s fairly pretty, but nothing worth looking at twice; always smiling and bickering with the tall raven by her side.
Is she just another one of Dazai's flings?
If so, then why did he smile at her like that? Like she was his equal, like she'd received his acknowledgment and was actually worth something.
Why did Dazai smile at her like that when Akutagawa was much stronger and faster than this random girl?
Akutagawa doesn't know, and each minute he spends observing the girl infuriates him. Dazai might not have noticed it yet, but he's become much more detached at work. He no longer revels in the bloodiness of his work as a mafioso as he used to, and Akutagawa has an inkling it has to do with wherever the Executive retreated to after missions.
Which turns out to be a small coffee shop tucked neatly into a corner of a street in the suburbs of Yokohoma. The interior is neat but homely, the coffee decent and the desserts rather fetching— but there’s nothing remotely out there about the place that Akutagawa would think would distract Dazai.
Except for this maroon-haired barista of course.
"Here you go!"
Akutagawa eyes the girl as she places down his fig tart and a cup of ginger tea, before offering him a curious but otherwise warm smile. It serves to remind him almost of Gin, who he has not seen ever since he came under Dazai's command, and some, weaker part of him falters at that smile.
He remembers stumbling upon Dazai leaving Au Revoir last week, watching furiously as he bid the maroon-haired girl a merry goodbye and offered her a warm, genuine smile. It had infuriated him just as much as it had stumped him, for this instance meant that even someone like Dazai was capable of sincerity.
It only made the teenager feel worse, knowing Dazai had deemed him unworthy of it.
And yet here this clueless barista is, unknowingly the recipient of the acknowledgment of Akutagawa's savior and condemner. He grits his teeth, trying his best to not lash out of anger, picking up his tea instead.
The first sip makes his nonexistent eyebrows shoot up, the sweet taste of honey melting in nicely with the ginger. It certainly made drinking this tea much more bearable. It’s better than the bitter coffee he’s been having for the past few days.
But Akutagawa hadn't ordered tea.
Grey eyes snap up to meet twinkling blue ones, and Akutagawa unknowingly feels all the tension drain out of him when Mizuha Hagane smiles serenely at him.
Really, whatever was so interesting about this girl?
"That raccoon's been staring at you for the past hour."
Akihiko drawls as he moves past Mizuha to cut a slice of cake. Mizuha just smiles helplessly, as if there is nothing she can do. "It's a little odd, but I've gotten used to it."
Akihiko just frowns down at her for a second, before doing a complete one-eighty. "Alright that's enough, I'm kicking him out—"
"Yeah, no you aren't."
Mizuha grabs the back of the raven's shirt, pulling him back towards her.
"Leave him alone, Akihiko. He's not doing any harm anyway."
"He's been coming in every single day to stare at you for the past week," Akihiko deadpanned. “If I were any more like Maria, I’d say he has a kiddy crush.”
They both pause to look at the so-called ‘raccoon’ who has been, and still is, drilling holes into the back of Mizuha’s head.
“Yeah…definitely not a kiddy crush.” Akihiko declares, swirling back towards Mizuha. " Look at him; he looks like a bald raccoon. I can take him in a fight."
Mizuha just looks up at her coworker with an unimpressed gaze. "Bullying children now, are we?"
"Of course I am, children are hell spawns after all."
Mizuha snorts as she shakes her head fondly, placing her pale ‘raccoon’s’ order on a plate, smiling a little when she realizes how that cup of coffee has quickly switched to ginger tea with honey.
Yes, sometimes things change, and for the better too.
Mizuha wants to believe it, in some shape or capacity— knowing full well that there that sometimes things do change, and they only get worse.
She knows it best after all.
Standing here as she is now, staring down at the pale boy who'd been quietly visiting Au Revoir up till now— the same boy who looked a little too uncomfortable in his brand new clothing, Mizuha wonders if it was necessarily true.
Especially when he eats his tart a little too quickly, and ends up choking on it.
Mizuha wouldn't have been so concerned about it if he didn't start coughing uncontrollably.
And suddenly Mizuha is transported to two months ago; when Aiko-san had coughed the same way and drawn blood. Suddenly Mizuha is transported to that isolated townhouse at the edge of town, medical books piled high on her desk and frustration painting her face as she tried to memorize as much as possible before her parents returned home.
Staring at the coughing boy, a single word passes through her mind.
Pleurisy.
Her body moves before she even registers it.
Weak, you are weak.
The coughs rack through the teenager's body, making it tremble in a way that has Mizuha flinching in horror. He feels a gentle touch on his back, rubbing circles as he coughs and coughs— it's supposed to be comforting, it's supposed to be warm, and yet, in his haziness, Akutagawa can only feel mocked.
"S… Stop," Akutagawa bites out viciously in between coughs. The disease has been getting worse, which only means that Akutagawa is weak for God forbid he'd go to a doctor and get it treated. "Don't touch me--Ack--I--"
" Quiet."
He freezes at the ice in the maroon-haired girl's voice. It's unlike anything he's ever seen out of her, and it reminds him of harrowed brown eyes— brown eyes that stare down at him with disinterest—
Akutagawa goes limp, unable to argue.
"Don't move." Mizuha— he believes her name is— orders, her voice a stark contrast to her gentle touch. "Let it out slowly. Can you tell me what medication you're on?"
"I—I'm not—"
Her eyebrows shoot up with something akin to incredulity. "You don't have medication ?"
"I—I—"
Akutagawa tries to gasp out an answer, only for the normally easy-going girl to break out a fat, loud, " Fuck!" before whipping her head to the side and calling over her coworker.
"Get Aiko-san's medication! The codeine-based syrup and the ibuprofen! NOW!" She barks towards her dark-haired coworker, and amid the haze, Akutagawa associates the name with the crabby old lady he'd seen watching over the three employees occasionally. She wasn't supervising today though. "It's in the first drawer to your left in her room! Hurry!"
The piercing guy immediately bolts, with the uncanny motion of someone used to situations like this.
"As for you," She turns back to Akutagawa, still holding him up on his feet. "I—"
"I—I don't need your— help—" Akutagawa hisses darkly, only for her grip to tighten on his arm.
I don't want your pity.
"Shut up." He stills at the venom in her voice. "As if I'm letting you cough yourself to death in my coffee shop. Take the damn medication and go to a doctor damn it--"
At that moment, she sounds more like her sardonic coworker than herself. Akutagawa was honestly stunned to see curses spilling from her lips, having seen just how composed the girl is normally. But today her gaze is dark, and her lips pressed into a stern line as she steadies Akutagawa, making him sit down in one of the chairs.
But Akutagawa is full of teenage hormones and pure stubbornness so he bites out—"You know nothing--"
"What is it with all the idiots around me saying that?" Mizuha's mutter is dark, before she shoots him an unforgiving glare. "I don't need to, you big idiot. I need to just focus on what's happening now."
Her words strike a chord in Akutagawa and he watches as the girl fixes him with an imperious gaze capable of leveling entire mountains, as she parts her lips and hisses, "I am not pitying you."
Harsh midnight-blue eyes glare down at him.
"I am saving you, you fool."
In retrospect, assuming the raccoon-haired boy's infliction was pleurisy was purely an illogical assumption fueled by Mizuha's memories of the night Aiko-san had to be admitted to the hospital. Seeing the woman who'd raised her kneeling over the counter coughing her lungs out and barely coherent had shaken Mizuha who'd been getting used to her new peace.
To this new life, she'd been adjusting to.
Aiko-san had pleurisy.
Perhaps it was some strange sort of guilt that manifested when she saw someone else in the same position. Back then, when Aiko-san had been in pain, Mizuha had frozen and it had been Akihiko who'd sprung into action and barked at her to call an ambulance. Mizuha who knew what pleurisy was, who'd been raised to be a doctor, who'd spent years watching parents treat patients.
Maybe that was why she'd assumed that boy had pleurisy.
Thankfully, she fixed that mistake quickly.
As soon as her words seem to quieten the rabid boy, Mizuha coaxes him upwards enough so that she can press her head against his chest and feel for his lungs, clenching her eyes shut in concentration.
Scratch. Scratch.
Her heart beats faster than it has in a long, long time, but she ignores it as she counts his ragged breaths— her heart falling when she notices the rough, creaky sound emanating with every sharp, coughing breath he takes in.
Inflamed lungs for sure.
That scratching sound is unmistakable.
Her mind kicks into overgear, thinking of any and all the possible medical terms that come to mind at the moment. Suddenly she's back in her cramped room back in her childhood home, with towers of medical books taller than her and a bleak timetable in front of her empty of anything other than eat, sleep, study, and a chilling practical session.
Mizuha knows this.
Mizuha has lived this.
Until three years ago, Mizuha had been a medical prodigy.
NSAIDs most definitely. Would codeine be okay? It's a bronchoconstrictor. I still don't know why he's coughing. Maybe another cough syrup would be better— Ah, I wish I could ask him if he has a diagnosis already but it would be better to not aggravate his coughing anymore unless he coughs up blood again—-
But then the boy coughs out a harsh,
"Chronic…. pleurisy. "
Mizuha freezes, her mind coming to a halt as those two words echo through her mind.
Chronic….
Pleurisy .
She briefly registers the arriving Aiko-san's indignant squawk as Akihiko all but crashes into her with the medicine in hand. "What in the world is going on— Akihiko!"
"Later, hag!"
Mizuha doesn't let up slightly rubbing the boy's chest, calming down a little as his cough settles a bit before pushing some cough syrup in front of him as well as some ibuprofen. She stays by his side rubbing his back as she quietly but firmly coaxes some water down his throat as she recalls all that she knows about him.
Short. Scrawny. Clearly malnourished. Has chronic pleurisy no doubt because of malnourishment. Likes ginger tea with an absurd amount of honey. Fig tarts.
Ah, fig tarts.
Maybe not the best thing for someone with pleurisy to eat.
When the boy finally settles into her arms, the painkillers finally hitting him and knocking him unconscious from relief, Mizuha finally looks up into cold, but concerned grey eyes.
Aiko-san's seventy years old, but she looks a good ten years younger than that. It's probably because of the harsh lines across her aging features, reminding Mizuha of old steel— of an iron lady who refuses to bend over. She's the strongest person Mizuha knows, and yet, she's also human.
She's also fragile.
She can't live forever.
But the life in those eyes of hers says otherwise, especially with that still slightly bewildered but concerned expression. Aiko-san has pleurisy too— has been staying in the hospital because of complications because of it for an entire month— so she probably understands better than anyone when Mizuha quietly says just one word.
"Pleurisy."
Realization dawns on those aging features.
And because Aiko-san was there when the doctor told Mizuha and Akihiko the diagnosis; because she'd been there when the doctor told them that pleurisy as harsh as hers— to the point of coughing up blood— only appeared in serious cases of people above the age of 65; she knew best that for a boy who looked barely twelve, this wasn't normal.
Maybe that’s why she immediately turns away to cater to the customers, barely offering Mizuha another glance as she leaves. Because in this situation— she knows best.
Mizuha just sighs, gathering the sleeping boy closer in her arms as she looks up pointedly at Akihiko.
Akihiko stares at her for a full minute before letting out a slightly disbelieving scoff, as if what just happened still hasn't sunk in, before picking up the boy and carrying him upstairs.
As he moves past her, Mizuha murmurs,
"Careful. Don't put pressure on his chest."
Akihiko rolls his eyes but softens as he moves past her,
"I know."