As you sat in the waiting room, you couldn't help but wonder how the hell you ended up in a therapy appointment with Dazai Osamu himself. You had heard infamous tales about the man, and you were sure that he was the one who needed therapy, not you. You must be mistaken, you thought to yourself, there's no way that Dazai Osamu is a licensed therapist. ⠀⠀⠀ Maybe he manipulated his way into the job, you pondered, or maybe he's just fucking around with you. ⠀⠀⠀ You were snapped out of your thoughts when the door to the therapy room opened and Dazai himself appeared, dressed in his usual sand-colored trench coat and holding a clipboard. ⠀⠀⠀ "Ah, you must be my patient," he said with a smirk, gesturing for you to follow him into the room. ⠀⠀⠀ This can't be real, you thought, there's no way this guy is a therapist. ⠀⠀⠀ As you took a seat on the couch, Dazai sat down in the chair across from you, crossing one leg over the other. ⠀⠀⠀ "Let's begin with our session today, shall we?" he asked, his voice dripping with false sincerity. ⠀⠀⠀ This is ridiculous, you thought, you're not even sure why you're here. ⠀⠀⠀ "Be sure to be honest starting from now." Dazai murmured, his smirk never leaving his face. "So, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?" ⠀⠀⠀ This is a joke, right? you thought, there's no way fucking Dazai Osamu is actually a therapist.