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Sometimes, Dazai wondered if instead of bombing his car, he should’ve blown up Chuuya’s apartment. The unit. Or maybe the whole floor. Or maybe the entire damn building.
Because he had set the bomb as a message:
I do not care about Chuuya and you cannot use him to bring me back.
A clear message. A crystal clear message. It was just his luck that the hatrack just so happened to narrowly avoid getting blasted by the detonation.
(Not even a torture specialist could make him admit he had deliberately waited until Chuuya got close enough to set it off so he would be annoyed but not hurt.)
But now, four years later, it seemed more like a fucking joke because, well…
He was a joke.
All it had taken was one text from Hirotsu-san and he was out the door before anyone could blink. Kunikida could only yell at the dent left in the wall from how hard Dazai had flung the door open. While watching his senior scold a wall was admittedly funny, Atsushi couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve sent his mentor running out like that.
From: Hirotsu-san
Chuuya is using Corruption
‘That stupid slug’ , Dazai thought, as he maneuvered the stolen car wickedly through the narrow streets. He hoped the owner had theft insurance.
While he hadn’t asked Hirotsu-san for a location, he didn’t need it. He could see the telltale red glow from miles away, not to mention the trembling ground as he got closer to the epicenter. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
“Chuuya!”
The man himself twisted his neck back to look at Dazai, mouth fixed in an unnatural grin as he leveled a graviton in his hand. Bodies littered the ground around him.
Dazai dove to the side as the graviton flew at him, shoes slipping on the blood slick earth. He didn’t know if it was the enemies’ blood or Chuuya’s blood. The red swirls on Chuuya’s body was being drowned by the constant flow of blood from his nose, mouth, eyes, ears, everywhere and oh my god there’s so much blood –
“Chuuya!”
He lunged at him, fingers reaching for the slim wrist, but before they could make contact, Chuuya sprang back and snarled, kicking out in smooth practice. His leg made contact with Dazai’s stomach with a harsh oomph .
“What a bad dog you are,” Dazai gritted out, gripping Chuuya’s ankle unwaveringly. “I come to save you and here you are, flailing around, yapping and kicking at your owner.”
As he felt No Longer Human surge through him and into Chuuya, the swirls receded and the blood slowed. Chuuya blinked, eyes hazy and confused as they settled on Dazai. For just a moment, Dazai could see everything in his head, before a hard mask snapped into place.
Dazai frowned. When had Chuuya gotten so unreadable?
“Yah, shitty Dazai.”
“What.”
“Let go of my leg.”
Chuuya collapsed as soon as Dazai let go, heaving and coughing blood with a wet sound. Dazai picked at his nails, pretending to look unaffected.
“How long?”
“Dunno.”
“Guess.”
“Eight minutes? Give or take.”
The longest Chuuya had used Corruption for was fifteen minutes and twenty six seconds. The slaughter was ugly, the aftermath even uglier. He had been in a coma for a week, bedridden for another. After that, Chuuya promised he would never use Corruption if Dazai wasn’t around.
“You broke your promise.” Dazai couldn’t keep the accusing tone out of the words, and winced when he realized he sounded like a petulant child.
“Yeah, yeah,” Chuuya took a shaky breath, smudging the blood on his cheek as he rubbed at his face tiredly. “So I broke a promise. Like you don’t do that all the time.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Dazai, I don’t want to argue with you right now.”
“But I don’t.”
Chuuya scowled at him, but there was no real malice behind it. His eyes drooped with exhaustion, and he could barely keep himself upright. “You did, bastard.”
“Which one?” Petulant child be damned, Dazai was not going to let his reputation be smeared like this. “Which promise did I break, Chuuya?”
Chuuya looked away. “My seventeenth birthday. You made a promise.”
Dazai had the best memory in the world. Unbeaten, aside from maybe Fyodor. He was the demon prodigy, for fuck’s sake. There was no way he would ever forget anything, let alone a promise he made to Chuuya . And yet, there was nothing. Not even a flicker.
A sigh. “Forget it. It’s not important.”
Usually, Dazai would absolutely not forget it. He would bother the redhead day and night, until he got a satisfying answer, and maybe a kick in the head for his troubles. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the blood still dripping from Chuuya’s mouth. Maybe it was the way he curled into himself, shivering from the cold, the blood loss, the overexertion. Maybe it was the gleam of disappointment in his bright eyes before that stupid fucking mask came back again.
Dazai really, really wanted to rip that mask off.
“Text Hirotsu-san to come get me.” Chuuya flopped on his back, eyes closed, uncaring of the way red seeped into his clothes. Not like he didn’t already have bloodstains on them; in fact, they were more red than black now. “I don’t know where my phone is.”
Dazai rolled his eyes, but dutifully sent a quick message. Hirotsu-san would likely arrive in five minutes, maybe three if he sped. Chuuya would be in good hands. He turned around.
“I knew you were around,” Chuuya said casually, eyes still closed. “I didn’t break my promise.”
I knew you would come.
The unspoken words hung in the bloodstained air. Dazai swallowed.
He left.
────────────
April came and Dazai found himself in a peculiar situation.
“Happy birthday, Chuuya-san!” Atsushi chirped cheerily, handing over a bottle of the most expensive wine he could find.
(He wrote it off as a business expense, which Kunikida yelled at him for, but Dazai had told him to get it!)
Chuuya hummed in approval, briefly patting Atsushi on the head as he beamed, practically purring.
“Yahho, Fancy Hat,” Ranpo brushed past, a lollipop stick hanging between his lips.
It was a strange sight, Agency members and mafiosos mingling in the same space, but apparently, either everyone had hit their heads or Dazai was in an alternate reality, because he was the only one who was still struggling to grasp the situation.
“Oi bastard, why do you look like you’re constipated?”
Instead of answering, Dazai extended his arm and flicked him. Hard.
“Ow! What the fuck, you piece of –”
“So I’m not dreaming, huh.”
“Why the fuck would you be dreaming? And why the fuck would you flick me if you think you’re dreaming?!”
“Hush, slug. I’m trying to think.”
Chuuya looked positively murderous, but before any more swears could spill from his mouth, he was whisked away by someone for cake.
Cake.
Birthday cake.
For a birthday.
Chuuya’s birthday.
April 29.
“Dazai-kun, I’m glad to see you made it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dazai turned to face him, “Mori-san.”
Mori smiled. “I’m sure Chuuya-kun is pleased.”
Silently, they watched Chuuya get pulled around, downing shots and gulping down glasses of wine shoved into his hands as they greeted him. Already, the pink flush was spreading down his neck, the usual tension in his shoulders releasing by the second.
Dazai thought he felt a moment of deja vu.
“Say, Mori-san, why the birthday party?”
“Oh?” Mori looked at him, a brow raised. “Don’t you remember?”
This was the second time in two weeks that someone had allegedly remembered something he didn’t. Maybe he should get a brain scan, just to make sure he was functioning properly.
“Enlighten me.”
“Mackerel!” Chuuya caught sight of Dazai and stumbled clumsily in their direction, eyes glassy with intoxication. “Come drink!”
Mori nudged him forward ever so slightly. “It was your idea. Chuuya-kun’s seventeenth birthday. You requested a party for his birthday every year after that. We’ve never missed a year.”
As Dazai was dragged off into the heart of the crowd, he wondered just what had happened on Chuuya’s seventeenth birthday that erased all memories of the day from his head.
Chuuya was relentless. Dazai watched him as he still continued to drink, too polite to turn down anything from anyone even as he swayed dangerously.
“Chibi.”
“Mackerel.”
“Don’t you think you should stop drinking?”
“Don’t you think you should shut up?”
“So rude, Chuuya. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
That got a reaction. Chuuya swung around to face him, a wobble in his steps, graceful movements out the door. “It’s a good day if you don’t actively cause me harm.”
Someone handed Chuuya a drink, but before he could take it, Dazai snatched it and downed the liquor, glaring at the offender. “Chibi’s had enough to drink for now.”
“Fuck off, Dazai.”
“He’s too small to have this much alcohol in him.”
“Dazai!”
“What if he gets alcohol poisoning? Are you going to take the blame for killing a Port Mafia executive?”
The offender, a low level thug, cowered under the withering weight of Dazai’s glare. Until Chuuya smacked him.
“Dazai, I swear to fucking god.”
“I’m looking out for you!”
“You weren’t invited to ruin my day, you fucking bandage fish.”
Speaking of…
Dazai threw an arm around Chuuya’s shoulder, pulling him close even as Chuuya resisted. Without Tainted on his side, drunk Chuuya was about as strong as a four year old throwing a tantrum.
‘And equally cute.’
Dazai stopped.
‘Which is to say, not cute at all. Only annoying.’
There. He fixed his thoughts.
“Chuuyaaaaa~”
“What do you want?”
“Why did you invite the Agency anyway? We’re sworn enemies.”
With some more tugging, Chuuya finally shrugged off his arm. “Shitty bastard, you think I would willingly invite your bandaged ass to a Mafia party? You hit your head or something?”
Maybe he did. Apparently he wasn’t remembering the past very well, and he couldn’t read his chibi anymore. Maybe he should go get that brain scan. He made a mental note to get Atsushi to book one for him.
“Boss invited the Agency.”
He figured that made more sense, but not very much more, because why the hell would Mori invite the Agency to a Mafia birthday party?
Chuuya shrugged at his open confusion. “Don’t question it. We don’t know why he does some of the things he does.”
“You don’t. But I do.”
“Do you?”
No. Dazai absolutely didn’t. But he wasn’t about to let Chuuya know that.
Luckily, he was saved from making some bullshit excuse, because between that moment and the next, Chuuya was pulled away from him to drink even more.
With a sigh, Dazai deemed himself officially on slug babysitting duty.
“I’m taking out the trash,” he said loudly, dragging Chuuya by his wrist. “Feel free to thank me later~”
Chuuya glared at him, but made no real attempts to slip away. “Someone else could’ve taken me back.”
“Who else knows where your apartment is, chibi-chan?”
“And why do you know where my apartment is?”
“What a preposterous question!” Dazai grinned, squeezing Chuuya’s wrist harder. “You’re my dog, of course I need to know where you are at all times!”
Slug babysitting duty was not a job for the faint hearted. At least, that was what Dazai told everyone.
What they didn’t know was that alcohol made Chuuya even more temperamental and hot headed, but enough alcohol made him docile. As docile as a Port Mafia executive, gravity manipulator, knife wielding god vessel could be.
Which was surprisingly docile.
What they also didn’t know was that when Chuuya got docile, he also got clingy.
He wasn’t out of his mind enough to cling onto Dazai, but he was less quippy, more pliant, subconsciously hanging off every word Dazai gave him.
Chuuya didn’t discriminate in his clinginess. He would give whoever was in his nearest vicinity the same treatment in this state. Dazai just so happened to be his target tonight.
(Dazai just so happened to be his target every time , because he’d never let anyone else come within Chuuya’s ten mile radius when he was this drunk.)
Getting Chuuya to his apartment building was easy, getting him to the front door even easier. Dazai kept throwing aggravating little insults at the other, but Chuuya barely responded beyond a small hum. He didn’t even question it when Dazai punched in the complicated code to his front door.
Getting him through the door, however, that was the hard part. Because the moment the door opened, Chuuya slid to the floor, apparently too dizzy to keep walking the ten meters to his bedroom.
“Yah, chibi.” Dazai tugged, hands still wrapped around his wrist. “Get up. I can’t carry you.”
“Why not?”
“You’re too heavy.”
Chuuya frowned, brows furrowing. “Am I?” He gestured vaguely to himself. “Don’t you always say I’m short?”
Dazai snorted. Chuuya was definitely out of his mind now. He would never willingly admit that while sober.
Despite his height, Chuuya was heavy. He was all muscles, after all. Dazai figured he could probably carry him, but he was still feeling a bit bitter about the Corruption incident, so he decided to drag him along the floor instead.
Not that Chuuya complained much, because he was already snoring lightly.
Dazai dumped him on the bed, brushing off invisible dust from his coat. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.
‘Did Chuuya lose weight?’
He turned to leave, filing that mental note away, but before he could take a step, a hand shot out to wrap around his wrist. He met Chuuya’s eyes, dazed but ever bright.
‘Chuuya has pretty eyes.’
He filed that mental note in the depths of his brain, banishing it.
Chuuya took a breath, like he wanted to say something, but his expression flickered and his grip disappeared as fast as it had appeared. Silently, he tucked himself into the sheets and turned his back to Dazai.
‘Ah.’
Dazai shut the door.
‘I remember.’
April 29.
Chuuya’s seventeenth birthday.
It was Dazai’s idea.
Chuuya had mentioned offhandedly on a mission one day that he’d never had a birthday party before. Most of his birthdays had been spent in a lab.
So Dazai threw him a party.
He wanted to make him squirm, to watch him fluster under the unwanted attention. Because birthday parties were so awkward. He knew Chuuya would hate it.
Instead, Chuuya thrived under the attention. Dazai wondered if he’d made a mistake, but not for very long because for one night, Chuuya looked like he was actually seventeen.
He looked like he was actually happy.
Naturally, Chuuya was drunk before the second hour was up. No one even knew how he’d gotten so drunk; he wasn’t even legal yet.
And naturally, Dazai took him home.
Dazai dropped him onto the bed, rolling his eyes when Chuuya complained about his hat but obediently setting it on his nightstand anyway. He didn’t know why such a small person needed such a big bed, especially since Chuuya took up less than half of the king size.
Dazai stood awkwardly, holding Chuuya’s gaze. Neither said anything, and he was starting to feel fidgety under those bright eyes.
“I’ll be heading out now! Don’t die in your sleep, I don’t want to write more reports~”
He took a step.
A hand at his wrist.
He looked back.
Chuuya was always an open book, emotions laid out plainly as he stared at him earnestly.
“Leaving so soon?”
Don’t leave.
Dazai never claimed to be a strong man. He was very, very weak.
“Maybe not, if a certain chibi can entertain me.”
I won’t. I promise.
One year later, Dazai broke his promise and shoved the memory away to the part of his brain that was never intended to be reached again.
────────────
Chuuya was using Corruption again.
Like clockwork, Dazai received a text from Hirotsu-san, informing him.
And like clockwork, Dazai was there to nullify Corruption.
“You know, Chuuya, you really should start telling me yourself when you plan to use Corruption.”
They were both on the ground, panting. Dazai had sprinted all the way here, a total of twelve minutes, all the while hoping he wasn’t too late.
Corruption had gone on for longer this time. Ten minutes. Maybe eleven. Chuuya was in a bad state.
“Shut up,” came the reply, in a voice much smaller than normal. So unlike Chuuya, who was boisterous and loud and so full of life. “Just get me to…” his eyes fluttered shut, words trailing off.
Dazai sat up in panic. “Chuuya?” No response. “Chuuya!”
He looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping. But blood was still flowing from his body, without signs of slowing too.
Dazai picked him up and sprinted all the way back to the Agency, another total of twelve minutes, all the while hoping he wasn’t too late.
Yosano wasn’t too keen on using her ability on a Port Mafia executive, but Dazai’s wild eyes and stuttering breaths stopped her. With a slight nod from the president, her butterflies settled on Chuuya’s battered body and breathed life back into him.
For three days and three nights, Dazai kept vigil by his bedside. He’d locked himself in the infirmary. Any attempts of entering ended with a knife embedding itself next to the intruder’s head.
On the fourth day, Chuuya opened his eyes and, within three seconds, sighed heavily.
“I hope you told the boss, otherwise the Agency is going to be the sole target of a mafia manhunt.”
“You’re not important enough for that.”
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Chuuya was very important to the Port Mafia.
“Oi Dazai.”
“Hm?"
“You were late.”
“If Chuuya had bothered to tell me himself beforehand, instead of relying on someone else, then maybe I wouldn’t have been late.”
“I hadn’t expected it.”
Neither had Dazai. He almost didn’t believe Chuuya, convinced that Corruption had gone on for longer than he said because of how bad it had been. Fifteen minutes and twenty six seconds was his limit; somehow, this time had been worse.
“Arahabaki’s gotten stronger.” Chuuya read his thoughts with a quick glance. “It’s angry.”
“At what?”
“The fuck would I know?”
They fell back into silence, one staring at the ceiling and one staring at the other.
“Chuuya.”
“What?”
“Don’t use Corruption again.”
Chuuya met his eyes. There was something soft in them, almost resignation, almost acceptance, almost…
Almost sadness.
“You know I can’t.”
“You can. Tainted is strong. You don’t need Arahabaki.”
“Dazai, people will die if I don’t use Corruption when I need to.”
“You’ll die.” Dazai stood up, fury boiling under his skin, simmering in his blood. He was angry. But he didn’t know why he was angry. He was angry.
So incredibly, fucking angry.
Angry that Chuuya had almost died. Angry that he kept using Corruption. Angry that he wasn’t listening to him. Angry that he had a hero’s complex. Angry that he would sacrifice himself for a few measly lives.
Angry that, no matter what side he was on, Chuuya was good through and through.
“I can’t do that.” There was no room for argument in his voice, even as Dazai opened his mouth to protest. “I trust I will survive.”
I trust you will be there.
Dazai looked away.
A small shuffle. Chuuya was already pulling on his clothes and searching for his knives. He shook his head when he found one of them stuck in the doorframe. He’d have to polish and sharpen the blade again, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed.
“Leaving so soon?”
Don’t leave.
Dazai met his eyes. He was never good at being open. The thought of someone reading his thoughts and emotions pricked at his skin, crawling uncomfortably like tendrils scratching under his flesh.
But somehow, he found that he didn’t really mind being read, if the person reading him was Chuuya.
So he tried.
He tried.
Chuuya smiled, a quick tilt of his lips, nothing more, nothing less.
“Maybe not, if a certain mackerel can entertain me.”
I won’t. I promise.
────────────
Chuuya was using Corruption again.
This time, instead of a text, Dazai got a feeling.
A low thrum in his body, buzzing with a crescendoing intensity. He didn’t have any coffee today, yet he was all too aware of the pounding in his ears, his chest almost feeling bruised from how hard his heart was beating. His hands felt clammy, a cold sweat soaking through the bandages.
Dazai stood up abruptly, the legs of the chair screeching against the cold tiles. Kunikida shot him a look, but his attention was already turned to the window.
As expected.
Dazai grabbed his coat and almost tripped over his feet in his rush to get to the door.
Except…
“Get out of my way.”
Atsushi shivered. The temperature seemed to drop harshly in the room, goosebumps littering his skin. He knew Dazai was a former Port Mafia executive, knew he was cunning and ruthless and so, so terrifying. But it was easy to forget his past when he was sauntering through the door with canned crab and singing about double suicide.
But at times like this…
At times like this, Atsushi could see why he was the demon prodigy. He could see why he was the youngest executive in history. He could see why he was respected and feared .
The tension in the room was excruciating. Yet Kunikida didn’t yield.
“You can’t keep running off when you desire, Dazai. You have a responsibility to the Agency.”
Dazai took a step forward, and when Kunikida didn’t move, he kept stepping forward, until they were nose to nose.
“I have a responsibility to Chuuya. Now get out of my way.”
That wasn’t the answer Kunikida wanted. He didn’t budge. “Nakahara is part of the mafia. He is not our ally.”
“He is my partner.”
“Ex -partner. I’m your partner.”
Before Atsushi could even blink, Kunikida was thrown into the opposite wall, Dazai nowhere to be found. He quickly helped his senior to his feet, the shock still not quite settling in.
“You shouldn’t have said that, Kunikida-kun,” Ranpo said casually, swinging his legs from the desk he was perched on top of. “Dazai is quite fond of Mister Fancy Hats.”
“It’s true.”
“Not quite.” Ranpo turned his eyes to the window, where the faintest of red glow could be seen above the horizon. “Although maybe.”
Dazai was sure his lungs were failing him. With every harsh breath he pushed out, he could feel them in his throat, threatening to fall out. He swallowed the bile back and kept pushing, willing his stupid legs to go faster.
It was a disaster. If he hadn’t known better, he might’ve thought a hurricane ripped through Yokohama, leaving behind mass destruction in its wake. Even with No Longer Human, he could feel the pressure in the air weighing his lungs down.
The aftermath of Corruption was undeniable. It was everywhere. But Chuuya was nowhere to be found.
Dazai scoured the ruined land, trying to find the redhead. The ground beneath him was still trembling, like the very core of the earth was awakening in muddy anger, slow but unavoidable. He could still feel For The Tainted Sorrow humming in the air.
Which meant Chuuya was near.
He turned, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of Chuuya, trying to make sure he was okay, trying to –
“Chuuya!”
Dazai threw himself at him gracelessly, hitting the ground hard, but not before dragging Chuuya to the ground with him. Immediately, No Longer Human flooded the other, and the pressure in the air receded. Dazai sighed in relief, checking the wristwatch on Chuuya’s bloodied body.
Thirteen minutes and thirty two seconds.
He made it.
He made it.
Chuuya’s limit was fifteen minutes and twenty six seconds. He had almost two minutes to spare.
“Yah, Chuuya, so rude of you. Always making me exercise so much.”
Exhausted, he let his head fall into the crook of Chuuya’s shoulder, taking a deep breath. He smelled like blood and gunpowder and wine. Dazai nuzzled in, content.
“I don’t think I can carry you back to the Agency, so I’ll call Hirotsu-san, okay? I don’t think you’ll need Yosano-sensei anyway. You’re not even bleeding anymore.”
To: Hirotsu-san
Please come get Chuuya! He’s all okay now!
Snapping his phone shut, Dazai flopped back to the ground, careful not to jostle Chuuya too much. He still didn’t know the extent of the internal injuries he was suffering. Now that the destruction had calmed, the dust settling, the cloudless night sky was beginning to pierce through.
“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it, Chuuya?”
He heard a car, and groaned internally. He was hoping to spend a little more time with Chuuya alone, but alas, he needed to be treated. Of course, Chuuya always came first.
Footsteps stopped behind his head.
“Dazai-kun.”
Dazai slowly sat up, raising a questioning brow. “To what do I owe the pleasure of, Mori-san?” Mori knelt gently, bringing a frown to Dazai’s face. “Mori-san, you’re dirtying your clothes.”
Mori extended his hand. “Dazai-kun. Give me Chuuya-kun.”
“Eh?” Dazai pulled Chuuya closer to him, wrapping his body around him protectively. “I can’t do that. I have to nullify him.”
“Dazai-kun.”
“Chuuya is always in pain after using Corruption. I have to keep Arahabaki away.”
“Dazai-kun.”
“Chuuya is so high maintenance. Oh well, it can’t be helped. After all, I’m the only one in the world who can handle Chuuya’s high maintenance.”
“Dazai.” Mori placed a hand on Dazai’s arm. “Chuuya is dead.”
Dazai slapped his hand away, head shooting up to glare at the Port Mafia boss viciously. His eyes gleamed red. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Chuuya is sleeping. I nullified him.”
“Dazai. You were too late. Chuuya is dead.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Dazai dodged him, springing backward with Chuuya in his arms, snarling savagely. “You just want to take him away from me. I won’t let you. I know what I felt. I nullified him. Thirteen minutes. He’s alive. I know he is.” He glanced down. Chuuya’s eyes were closed, but he didn’t have the heart to wake him. Not after his hard work.
“You nullified the last of Arahabaki. It’s gone back into its realm. Chuuya is gone.”
A blade whizzed by Mori’s head, nicking his cheek. Dazai growled at his own poor aim.
‘Chuuya would make fun of me if he saw that. Luckily he’s asleep.’
He smiled at his own thoughts. He remembered Chuuya trying, and failing, to teach him combat skills when they were teens. He already knew how to fight, but it was amusing to watch Chuuya struggle to reign his frustration in.
“Always so hot-headed, Chuuya,” he murmured, Mori forgotten, instead reaching to pet his hair. Even soaked with blood, it almost glowed in the night.
The Agency arrived with heavy footsteps, but Dazai didn’t even look up.
Atsushi swallowed hard, horror and shock jarring on his young face. “What… what happened here?”
Hearing his mentee, Dazai looked up and grinned, and the Agency recoiled at the unnatural expression. His smile was wide, baring teeth, but his eyes were dull, dark, soulless.
Dead.
So, so dead.
Like someone had taken a knife to a corpse and slashed a smile into their face.
“Chuuya’s sleeping, silly!” Dazai smoothed down his partner’s hair, making sure it wasn’t in his face. “Atsushi-kun, please don’t be so loud. Chuuya needs rest.” His attention returned to admiring Chuuya’s face, marveling at the freckles decorating his pale face.
Everyone turned to Ranpo, silently asking for an explanation. His expression was grim.
“Dazai… his mind is broken.”
Even he couldn’t bear the sight anymore. He turned to make the long trek back to the Agency.
“Dazai Osamu is dead.”
────────────
He had already known he was too late.
He had already known he was dead.
He kept running.
Kept running.
Running.
He laughed.
“Look like we each broke a promise, Chuuya.”
His mind shattered.