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The first and last thing Sigma sees is a bright light. No light at the end of the tunnel, bit a blinding, fluorescent glow above them. What feels like needles prickles from head to toe, a dull throb vibrating through every vein in their body, somehow scalding hot and ice cold to the touch. They hear the faint, monotonous drone of a– heart monitor? Sigma was hardly familiar with medical equipment, but they were briefed on it concerning the Casino having a clinic room, and had limited knowledge from the past. They were watching their body behind a mirror, eyes cracked under the blinding– fluorescent?– lights.
A hospital. That was where they were, likely. It was the most they could deduce in the thick fog in their brain. Sigma stirs, their body heavy, all energy drained. Their eyes squint against the harsh light while they try hard to recollect their scattered thoughts.
A noise, someone clearing their throat, cuts through the monotonous buzz surrounding Sigma. They blink a few times, focusing their eyes and moving their head to the side. It's a hard feat, taking what nonexistent energy they have. Dazai smiles back at them. It's Dazai, Dazai is in their hospital room. A thick lump forms in their throat, and they swallow the questions crawling through their mind.
A weak groan bubbles in their throat, and the sound catches Dazai's attention. He speaks with an even tone, a reassuring demeanor carefully crafted through his relaxed posture, “Ah, I was starting to think you'd never wake up! A regular Sleeping Beauty, aren't you? Escaped the kiss of death, it's rather unfortunate, don't you think?”
What an absurd response, Sigma thinks somewhere in their clouded mind. Everything about this strange man was, from his mind to his behavior. It made Sigma more exhausted to even try to figure Dazai out. Their eyebrows knit together, and another low moan is all they can manage to respond with, but Dazai doesn't seem to mind. The book he held in his hand is set on his lap, Sigma doesn't bother trying to be nosy and read it from that far away. Not when their head is pulsing from the inside out. Dazai stands up, striding over to Sigma's bed.
Like the mind reader he is, Dazai begins to answer the string of questions circling through Sigma's mind. “You were in a coma for a few weeks. After that rat Dostoevsky left you for dead, Chuuya and I were able to take him down. The others took care of the rest. Everyone is in remission now.” His arms are spread out by now, and the high, overacted lilt to his voice grates Sigma's ears. They shift, pulling at the IV connected to their arm without meaning.
Dazai reaches out, putting a firm hand onto their shoulder, “Don't do that, you'll rip it out.” The tone of his voice drops, and Sigma can tell he is speaking in earnest now, “Things are still being figured out. I was able to get Yosano to help you, so that knife wound won't bother you.”
And he was right, they noted. Of all of the bone-deep aches coursing through Sigma's body, none of it feels at all like a stab wound. Yosano was the doctor, they were sure. None of this was important, though, and Sigma knit their brows together with hard focus, any effort at isolating their thoughts.
Sensing that Sigma could understand him just fine, Dazai continued. “Rest for a bit, alright? You can fill me in later, I've done my part.”
There is nothing left in Sigma to refute him, so they reluctantly nod. Any conversation after that goes unheard by Sigma, blurring in the background along with their vision as the exhaustion overtook them.
The world continues to be dark, even after Sigma's eyes are open. It takes them a minute to register that it is late at night, or early in the morning, they can't begin to tell. A soft grunt escapes their lips as they arouse in a stir. It takes a valiant effort to brace their arms against each side of the hospital bed and pull themself upright. The one positive note Sigma can make is that they can at least sit up now. To Sigma's surprise, Dazai is still in the same chair as before. Sigma can see the vague shape of him in the darkness.
They struggle to untangle themself from all the wires, but Sigma takes caution as to not yank their IV needle. The room is eerily silent. The long twisted shadows of the surrounding medical equipment spurs an unfamiliar, dreadful sensation in the pit of their stomach. Sigma has dealt with being thrust into alien situations countless times, it's one of the simple things they experience being in their place. The uncertainty of it plummets them into emotional turmoil they know all too well.
Sigma makes the brilliant decision to slide off of the hospital bed, using the IV pole as a form of support. It slips from their grip a few times while Sigma tries to keep themself steady, though the effort proves failed. A soft thump is heard when they finally collapse into the chair next to Dazai's, all energy depleted by that little action. Hospital chairs certainly are uncomfortable. The cheap material sticks to Sigma's legs through the thin hospital gown material despite the low temperature of the room. They push the IV pole away from them finally to beside their chair.
Sigma folds their hands neatly in their lap, surveying their surroundings. Though the room is bathed in shadows, a bit of light spills in from the moon above, casting just enough so Sigma can see the room. Now that they're up and awake, they can really take it in. The room is falsely welcoming. A sterile smell lingers in the air accompanied by the blank wash of the room itself. Everything was white, except for some beige accents like the chairs, the small table between them, and the average looking painting of a flower vase above the hospital bed. Their eyes sweep over the room with disinterest until they look out the window. Sigma can only assume they're in Yokohama, which is evident by the amount of light pollution. Not that it was an obvious enough assumption to make beforehand, on account of Dazai's information earlier. The sky is muddled between hazy artificial whites and yellows against the stark black above. Blurred together in an unrecognizable mass. The stars are hardly visible beyond the clouds. It is a sight that has Sigma sighing.
A sudden interjection is heard, a sharp contrast to the thick silence from before, “I'm glad to see you're up and moving.”
Sigma's head whips over their shoulder to face the tired smile on Dazai's face. They swallow before they nod once, blinking at him. “You scared me.”
“I could say the same. My apologies, I'm a light sleeper. I haven't gotten any rest, cleaning up this mess has been so busy.” It's an awfully honest statement coming from Dazai. Sigma can't find any indication that he is trying to play a little game, which takes a bit of weight off of their chest to worry about.
“It sounds like it.” No other words can be said right now, so they relent to stare back out the window to avoid conversation.
Dazai, on the other hand, does the opposite, and continues to prod Sigma with a question, “Is there something interesting out there? I suppose you've probably never been around a big city before.”
Hesitantly, Sigma shakes their head. The reality is they haven't really done much in their life. What has there been to do? Three years of qualms over their own existence and place in this distant world doesn't exactly leave much time to experience regular life. A few awkward moments pass before Sigma is too antsy to let the silence hand over, “I was trying to see the stars.”
“The stars?” Dazai rubs the back of his stiffened neck, stretching his limbs from the ache of napping in a chair. Sigma watches him closely, and Dazai returns the favor back.
It's unclear what either of them are searching for anymore, so Sigma confirms his inquiry. “Mhm. I think they're pretty.” That was at least one of the things Sigma had time to do. Staring up at the sky, some silly attempt at escapism into their own imagination.
“I see.” The simplicity in that response can only irk Sigma. Their grievances dissipate quickly, for once, when Dazai continues. “Do you actually know anything about them?”
It's a difficult thing to answer. Knowledge about the nature of the world is understandably limited for Sigma. They start, “Oh, not much.” The conversation can't go dicey again, or else Sigma will die, so continue to keep up the impression that they can still feel their own limbs. That they aren't about to collapse under the weight of their own situation in front of someone else. “Um– they make shapes?”
Dazai squints his eyes against the darkness before a look of recognition forms on his face. “Constellations.”
“Con– constellations.” The word falls messily off of Sigma’s tongue. “Yes, those, thank you. I know a few by their shape, the um– the spoon one?”
Their face flushed when Dazai laughed at them. It was ridiculous to even try conversing with him, everything was a joke to this man. Thoughts race through Sigma's head while they curl inwards on themself, but those thoughts are quieted when Dazai's flurry of giggles dies down. “It's called The Big Dipper. There's the Little Dipper too, connected to the North Star.” A confused expression must be visible upon Sigma's features because Dazai continues on, “The very bright one, that you use for navigation.”
“I see.” At a loss for words, Sigma echoes Dazai's earlier remark. “Thank you for the information.”
“You're so formal about everything, you remind me of Kunikida.” Fondness colors Dazai’s tone now at the thought of his friend and partner.
A wall is put up in Sigma’s mind as they nod, the action catching Dazai's attention. He leans forward in his chair a bit, easing some of Sigma's worries as he speaks. “Don't worry, you'll be introduced to the rest of my coworkers some time soon. I know you've met Atsushi.”
Sigma casts a glance back out the window, before they nod curtly. “I would like to meet them.”