❝ If you prick us, do we not bleed?
If you tickle us, do we not laugh?
If you poison us, do we not die?
And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? ❞
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William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
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"Hello, hello, Mayumi Shimei," said Dazai cheerily, leaning across the table from her. They were in a restaurant with the rest of the Armed Detective Agency. It was traditional Japanese, with wooden floors and ceilings, so much so that we had a private room to ourselves covered by a sliding paper screen.
"Hello, hello, Osamu Dazai," Mayumi repeated, before spooning a mouthful of boiled rice and salmon into her mouth.
"By any chance, would you be free to commit suicide with me tomorrow before work starts?"
Immediately, every conversation on the table silenced.
"Dazai," said Kunikida, too calmly. Mayumi could practically feel his blood boil—this was the calm before the storm.
"Sorry," she told Dazai, dispelling the mood. "That's still a no."
"Aw," said Dazai with a pout. "A shame. I was thinking you had changed your mind since the last time I asked you."
"Sadly, I have not."
"No? So your new special friend has been treating you well then?"
All heads on the table turned to her.
Mayumi just held Dazai's gaze, then tucked her hair behind her ear. It hadn't been straightened this time.
"Um," she said, finally. "What?"
A plan started formulating in her mind. She could play this off. She knew she could.
Because she couldn't let any of them know that she was working with Fyodor Dostoyevsky behind their backs. Or else she'd probably be sent to some special facility—like Meursault, or maybe worse, if such a place existed. So would Fyodor. For the second time. She didn't know the details of the ordeal that happened that led to his getting out, but from the gist of what she'd heard, it hadn't been pretty. Or very pleasant for both him and Dazai, for that matter. Worse so, according to some, for the former.
"Your 'new special friend'?" repeated Atsushi with wide eyes. "Mayumi! You have to tell more about this man now! And why does Dazai-san of all people know about it?"
"He's a foreign man too," added Dazai with a smirk.
Mayumi kept a straight face, and continued sipping on her soup. Then: "So what?" she said. "You all are so nosy."
"Wait a minute." This was Yosano. "Do not tell me. The government investigator from England?"
"The what?" Now it was Kunikida's turn, yet again, to look outraged. "Why have I never heard about this man from you ever, Shimei?"
"Calm down, everybody," said Mayumi. "You all are not my parents, and I do not need supervision on dates, if that's what you're about to ask, Kunikida. And Dazai, stop being a tattletale." She smiled at him, but made sure the message was clear. He was sitting at the end of the table with no one else beside him, so when she distorted her expression into more of a threat, no one noticed.
Waving a dismissive hand in the air, Dazai said: "Eh, you're too paranoid. I think it's quite interesting actually. I'll definitely be waiting to see how it goes."
I'll definitely be waiting to see how this ends for you.
Mayumi forced a smile.
"You fucker," she said under her breath, in English.
You motherfucker.
YOU ARE READING
Daybreak | F. Dostoyevsky
Fanfiction❝ Can the killer in me tame the fire in you? ❞ Fyodor could plan for a lot of things. But he could have never planned for this. He could have never planned for her. And Mayumi Shimei? Mayumi Shimei just wanted to watch him crash and burn. At least...
