The man whom the men in black addressed with a mix of awe and reverence as “Dazai-sama” was an unexpectedly young youth, seemingly around the same age as Nagito Komaeda.
He wore a white shirt paired with a formal black tie, an oversized suit jacket draped oddly over his shoulders. Walking with steps as light as a ghost, he bypassed the henchman and drew closer to Nagito Komaeda.
Nagito Komaeda’s eyes shone brightly as he looked at the person named Dazai.
How amazing! Even though he looked to be around the same age as himself, he could command individuals whose physiques and ages clearly surpassed his own—men who, to some extent, represented raw combat power. It seemed he already occupied a position of high authority…
Judging by the attitude of the people around him, he likely hadn’t risen to power merely through familial background. To reach such a level meant this person undoubtedly possessed absolute strength capable of overwhelmingly crushing any disadvantageous factors.
If this world also possessed Hope’s Peak Academy, this person might well have become the “Ultimate Yakuza” or something similar.
Under the sudden intensity of Nagito Komaeda’s burning gaze, the dark-haired youth smiled at him flittingly. “We meet again.”
Hm? Someone he knew?
Nagito Komaeda immediately searched his memory, but came up completely blank.
That shouldn’t be right. Given someone this outstanding, under normal circumstances, any version of himself should have remembered him. However… didn’t abnormal things happen the day before yesterday? This must be someone he had seen within that hazy segment of memory.
Therefore, Nagito Komaeda reasoned it out: “Ah, could it be the kind Samaritan who lent me his phone to call the police the night before yesterday?”
The men in black standing behind the youth couldn’t help showing expressions of utter shock, their eyeballs nearly popping out.
There were simply too many things to complain about in that single sentence. It felt like this kind of dialogue had no business being associated with Dazai-sama at all!
“…Forgot? Figures. Your mental state was quite chaotic at the time; you look much better now.”
Osamu Dazai spoke indifferently, looking over Nagito Komaeda with keen interest.
Unlike the out-of-control state he had witnessed that night, the image Nagito Komaeda presented to him now was gentle and composed at least on the surface, entirely devoid of the soul-capturing, neurotic frenzy of before.
“Is it really you?” Nagito Komaeda, who could maintain a smile even while staring down the barrel of a gun, now wore a deeply dejected expression. “To think I forgot the benefactor who helped me out… I really am an incomparably worthless piece of trash…”
Listening to Nagito Komaeda’s exaggerated self-deprecation, Osamu Dazai raised an eyebrow slightly, pausing his extending hand for a brief moment before completing his action.
His bandage-wrapped hand brushed past Nagito Komaeda’s hair tips, fumbled around the back of his neck, and then withdrew, tossing the object in his hand behind him.
The man in black instinctively glanced at the item that had fallen to the ground, recognizing it as the tracker they had planted on their disguise-shifting enemy.
“Idiots.”
Osamu Dazai’s expression, previously touched with a smile, turned cold and weary. He looked at the man still holding the gun and remarked acidly,
“Though letting the rat slip away was part of the plan all along which is precisely why I specifically chose the few of you failing to realize you’d grabbed the wrong person even by now is taking stupidity a bit too far, isn’t it?”
The man in black, directly told that he was only assigned to this operation due to his stupidity, sheepishly lowered his gun, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something before swallowing it back.
Even if he remained silent, however, Osamu Dazai wouldn’t let it go.
“Right, didn’t you just say he looked suspicious even without a tracker?” Osamu Dazai suddenly smiled again. “Well then, how about giving you a chance to convince me?”
The henchman was well accustomed to his superior’s whims and knew full well that if he dared hesitate, that chance would instantly vanish. Skipping all empty chatter, he explained directly.
“Dazai-sama, it’s because… because when the room finally quieted down, everyone else was extremely tense, and yet he was still eating his noodles!!! Your subordinate assumed he was trying to disguise himself as an innocent passerby, but ended up trying just a bit too hard…”
Everyone else: “…………”
Osamu Dazai: “…………”
Although he hadn’t witnessed the scene when he arrived, based purely on the description, Osamu Dazai had to admit… it was indeed rather suspicious. Still, behavior that over-the-top wasn’t something someone planning to escape would do; his subordinate was indeed quite dimwitted.
“Eh? Is that the reason?” Nagito Komaeda asked, looking genuinely surprised, as if completely oblivious. “But noodles are the kind of food that shouldn’t be left sitting, and besides, I hadn’t eaten for almost a day…”
The man in black felt deeply wronged: “Well, a normal person wouldn’t be eating noodles at a time like that! Weren’t you afraid of getting hit by a stray bullet?!”
“Hahaha, though it’s a bit strange to say this about myself, even an ordinary person like me has a few things I’m somewhat decent at… Um, I have a bit of confidence in my luck? If I were to die from just this level of incident, I wouldn’t really have the right to call myself lucky anymore, would I?”
…So that’s how it is. It’s this kind of personality.
From this brief interaction, Osamu Dazai quickly formed a judgment.
He had previously looked over relevant files on Nagito Komaeda. However, given that the boy came from an ordinary family, and a plane crash survivor wasn’t considered a special status, the protective measures for minors back then meant even news reports remained anonymous. The kidnappers’ attention had solely focused on the fact that Nagito Komaeda lived alone and possessed a massive fortune, rather than anything else.
Consequently, the investigators’ focus had clearly been placed on Nagito Komaeda’s experiences—which were “uninvestigated, they seem ordinary; separated, they make no sense; summarized, they give you a fright.” They hadn’t described his personality in detail, merely labeling him as “somewhat self-deprecating, but easygoing and cheerful” (Note), lacking any deeper investigation.
Having witnessed Nagito Komaeda’s unhinged state at the kidnapping scene, Osamu Dazai could tell at a glance that those files barely scratched the surface of who Nagito Komaeda really was.
Yet, to him, Nagito Komaeda was merely an interesting passerby. Sending people to investigate had been a way to wrap up the murder case at the Port Mafia warehouse while simultaneously satisfying his own curiosity. Thus, he couldn’t be bothered to quibble over flaws in the files—he just hadn’t expected them to cross paths again so soon.
A life of extreme ups and downs, an everyday routine packed with dramatic developments such a life had undoubtedly made this person’s personality fascinating.
Self-deprecation might not be wrong under certain circumstances, but anyone who spoke like that had certainly never witnessed Nagito Komaeda as he had been earlier.
Come to think of it, the foundation of Nagito Komaeda’s arrogance should stem from…
“I’ve investigated you,” Osamu Dazai stated without concealment, his smiling expression carrying a hint of childlike mischief. “Your experiences truly represent an ‘unimaginable luck’ for ordinary people is that the effect of your Ability?”
Nagito Komaeda didn’t mind at all that someone had investigated him: “To actually go out of your way to investigate someone as insignificant as me I’m truly flattered. Actually, if you want to know anything, you can just ask directly. I’ll gladly and wholeheartedly help out, making sure I can render myself useful… But an Ability, you say…?”
“Although the government has been working hard to cover it up, achieving the same effect in Yokohama is simply too difficult. Even for someone like you who only returns to Yokohama during holidays, it’s impossible to be completely oblivious, right?” Osamu Dazai directly stripped away the government’s cover story, effectively blocking any possibility of Nagito Komaeda playing dumb.
While Ability users were few in number, whenever they stirred up trouble, the commotion was massive. The Special Divison for Anomalous Powers a secret department that was only a secret to ordinary people was practically wrung dry trying to handle related incidents.
Other regions were relatively fine, but Yokohama, due to various factors, attracted sparse Ability users who loved to congregate there. Gathering together meant trouble, and keeping everything hidden from ordinary outsiders was too difficult; they could only throw out ghost stories and urban legends just to barely muddle through.
In times like these, one had to appreciate the innate nature of the Japanese: no matter how bizarre you were, or whether you were an Ability user, as long as you didn’t affect them, it was fine.
Especially after surviving the Head-Dragon Conflict last year, the citizens of Yokohama who had managed to piece things together felt that keeping their mouths shut and minding their own business were both virtues in civilization one shouldn’t take life too seriously. This attitude finally achieved a balance with the goals of the Special Divison for Anomalous Powers.
As for Nagito Komaeda, he fell squarely into the category of “those who pieced things together,” seeing as he had “luckily” faced Ability users’ battles head-on.
“Ah, I do know about it… But this is the first time I’ve heard it called an ‘Ability’; I used to think it was called a ‘superpower’ or something,” Nagito Komaeda smiled wryly. “How could trash like me possess such a dazzling status as an Ability user? I’m just an ordinary person with a bit of good luck.”
The past Nagito Komaeda had indeed wondered if his luck was an Ability, but now he was thoroughly certain that the other world lacked things like Abilities or superpowers, featuring only various miraculous talents. Yet his luck remained identical in both worlds, making it far more likely that his luck wasn’t an Ability at all.
The henchman didn’t dare interrupt the conversation between his superior and an outsider, but his internal complaints were relentless.
Can luck that ensures you “never die from stray bullets in a confined space” really be called just “a bit of good luck”?! Is there something wrong with my definition of luck, or yours?!
Stop being so humble right now, damn it!!! Bust out that arrogant swagger you had while speaking with such modesty earlier, will you?!
Compared to an “ordinary lucky person,” the henchman felt that anything capable of supporting that level of confidence could only be explained by an Ability.
Osamu Dazai, who had read Nagito Komaeda’s file, smiled, remaining unconvinced by Nagito Komaeda’s reply.
While the world certainly held many coincidences, when all those coincidences concentrated on a single person, it became a massive problem especially since he had personally inspected the scene of the most recent incident. The number of coincidences required to achieve that outcome was already astronomical. Given the countless incidents in Nagito Komaeda’s life, insisting they were all just good luck was far too absurd.
Osamu Dazai could easily tell that Nagito Komaeda wasn’t lying, but matters of Abilities weren’t something you could dismiss simply because you didn’t think you had one.
“Have you ever considered a possibility,” Osamu Dazai said with a smile, “that because your Ability is uncontrollable, you simply can’t perceive it?”
With a look of profound moving emotion, Nagito Komaeda spoke under the henchman’s worldview-shattering gaze: “Thank you for thinking so highly of me; you’re truly kind… But how is one supposed to confirm something like that?”
Osamu Dazai, acting on a whim, replied, “I have a way to confirm it.”
He had been bored for far too long; a life where everything could be seen through was utterly tedious.
If he stayed by this person’s side, would he get caught up in all sorts of inexplicable accidents? Just thinking about it felt thrilling! Much more interesting than catching running rats!
Moreover, he was quite curious about the goal Nagito Komaeda wanted to achieve even at the cost of his own death. Besides, since his subsequent affairs would proceed according to plan anyway, he might as well…
Before Osamu Dazai could continue, his phone suddenly rang. He expressionlessly answered the call: “Boss Mori.”
“Dazai-kun! You think Elise looks better in red too, right?” The Port Mafia boss brought up such a topic over the phone. “Elise insists my aesthetic sense is bad, I… Ah, ah, ah, Elise, don’t throw those files, I haven’t read them yet Dazai-kun, hurry back and help me…”
Osamu Dazai hung up without the slightest hesitation.
Boss Mori calling him like this clearly wasn’t genuinely agonizing over what Elise should wear; rather, he had business and was urging him back… He roughly knew what matter it concerned; in any case, this was no longer the time to slack off.
Osamu Dazai looked at Nagito Komaeda with a look of regret: “Can’t be helped, let’s leave it for next time.”
Nagito Komaeda was overjoyed.
This person radiated the aura of someone with true talent, yet was actually willing to proactively keep in touch with him. The misfortune of getting dragged into this incident wasn’t it simply exchanged for the good fortune of reuniting with this person?
“Shall I provide my contact information?”
Nagito Komaeda asked the mafia youth with excessive enthusiasm, completely ignoring the strange looks from the other ordinary people in the shop: “Ah, apologies, with your capabilities, you’ve probably already checked it out, right? I spoke out of turn… Come to think of it, you know so much about me, yet I don’t even know your name.”
“Osamu Dazai.”
He wasn’t stingy toward someone who interested him, and since his surname was already exposed, he casually dropped his own name, unexpectedly catching the instant constriction of Nagito Komaeda’s pupils—a discovery that instantly re-ignited his interest.
“Is something wrong with my name?”
“Ah…” In Nagito Komaeda’s voice lay a trembling he tried hard to suppress. “It’s a wonderful name… You must be an extraordinary person! That’s right, you certainly possess talents that surpass ordinary people—”
Osamu Dazai gestured for his subordinates behind him not to act rashly over a few words, while he himself probed gently: “Talent?”
Nagito Komaeda pressed his temples as if suffering a headache, his gaze growing increasingly chaotic.
“Yes, yes, without a doubt when do you plan to publish a book?”
Osamu Dazai: “…”
Osamu Dazai: “…Ha?”