There's a sense of urgency in the way Dazai delivers his lessons. The words that roll off his tongue are new, they have a special ring to them, they swarm in Ryunosuke's head, like a cloud of fluttering keys, locking into crevices of his mind, revealing before him dimensions, the complexities of which he couldn't possibly have ever phantomed. Dazai is patient and methodical in getting his point across, showing him that the world is way bigger than the sewers of Yokohama and the lanky embrace of his sister's arms.

Dazai proved to be very thoughtful. Ruyonuske was given a bed to sleep in, he hasn't felt hunger in weeks, he could make decisions for himself, pursue a career, make plans, and at the end of the day he had a place to come back to. All his needs had been provided for. All that Ryunosuke had striven for, all the struggles that had defined his existence up till this point, were easily reconciled by Dazai. Dazai saw to everything. He held Ryunosuke's past in the palm of his hand, like a living breathing thing, his fingers working on it relentlessly, untangling its knots, until there was nothing more left of it, but lose strands, disconnected, falling away in meaningless disarray.

There's a loud rumble of wooden palettes falling to the ground and he can hear an angry shout and a bark of short laughter followed by the sound of determined footsteps echoing off the walls of the hall. Ryunosuke turns to see Dazai emerge from one of the aisles. He can't quite make out the expression on the man's face in the shadow of the warehouse.

"Did you just try to kill me?" a tone of mock disbelief framed in that characteristic air of giddiness.

He doesn't know how to proceed and with all the hatred, guilt and fear hitting him all at once, he finds himself frozen midstep between fight and flee, staring at the man before him.

From the corner of his eye he catches a shadow. He looks at it and sees Rashomon raging, thrashing around, seething with fury, like a feral kitten arching its back, overflowing with rage impossible to contain within its frail frame, its trembling desperation a clear testament to its own helplessness.

What a sorry sight, the thought crosses his mind and, with resignation, out of something akin to pity he embraces Rashomon. He lets it have its way and plunge at Dazai with all its unbridled force. Dazai effortlessly deflects the attack. The recoil sends Ryunosuke against the metal shelf at the other end of the aisle.

His ears are ringing. Lying in stupor he doesn't notice Dazai approach him, so when Dazai steps in front of him, it is as if he miraculously appeared out of nowhere like a divine being, an arhat descending to earth on a cloud, a halo of cold industrial light around his head.

Ryunosuke stares blankly at the man above him not sure what to expect. Fear is indispensable in facing the unknown. He can feel something rise inside him with each breath he takes.

"Can you move?" the lack of inflection in Dazai's tone makes the question sound like a command, and Ryunosuke props himself up against the railing to make an effort to get up. Dazai gets down cutting his movement off, , and suddenly he's in Dazai's lap, Dazai's left hand grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck. Ryunosuke utters an inaudible gasp when the incessant white noise suddenly stops. He doesn't need to look about himself, to know that the pool of darkness that had enshrouded him just disappeared.

He watches Dazai through half-lidded eyes. Dazai producing a wad of cotton from his coat pocket, Dazai cutting the bandage, Dazai applying an adhesive to the cut on Ryunosuke's forehead. His movements that of a somnambulist, steady and mechanical. Ryunoske is certain that if he were to tug at the end of one of Dazai's bandages, they would untangle, revealing nothing beneath but thin air, and with that the illusion would break, all of this would end like a dream and he'd wake up to the drudgery of grey sky during rain season, somewhere under one of the many bridges of Yokohama. So instead he he grabs onto Dazai's arm firmly like his life depends on it.

Looking up at Dazai he feels as if the hole inside of him suddenly filled up to the brim, a well overflowing with gratitude so immense that it could make his heart stop. A terrible realization hits him that he'd do anything for that man, anything at all and feeling tired of being so overwhelmed, he gives in, letting himself fall into the self-abandon of dependency.

He makes an effort to breathe around the knot forming in his throat.

"Dazai, I_" he starts in a raspy voice.

Dazai gives him a smile, an expression of amusement bordering on reproach of the kind that one would have for an unruly child throwing a tantrum, kicking and screaming, flailing their hands around and balling their fists, yet in spite of all their rage remaining unable to reach the much taller adult.

"Try harder."