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Dazai couldn’t even feel his broken leg as he ran into the wreckage. He’d seen a lot, but never carnage like this. Bodies he didn’t recognise lined whichever path he took — this sort of thing never really phased him before, but for some reason… it sort of did this time. It wasn’t the bodies that were disturbing or the wreckage necessarily but… the fact that he was meant to prevent it… and he didn’t… He wanted to comment on the fact that Chuuya’s face was whiter than his own but, well, he was rather speechless — a rarity for him.
In the distance, he recognised two figures, panting, helping each other stand… Akutagawa and Atsushi. Dazai didn’t realise he was capable of running any faster until he was.
When Atsushi saw him, his face almost lit up. Until it didn’t, and it sagged with guilt and grief. It wasn’t an uncommon expression on him but this was with a severity Dazai had never seen before. It almost made him falter.
Looking around to make sure they were safe, Dazai almost collapsed at the pair’s feet. Chuuya wordlessly helped him back up, letting him lean against him as he tried to catch his breath.
Akutagawa and Atsushi didn’t speak. Dazai supposed he couldn’t blame them for not having anything to say. What was there to say in such a brutalised battlefield…?
Atsushi gently pushed himself forward, off of Akutagawa’s shoulder and fell into Dazai’s chest. It was an attempt at a hug… but without the strength to complete it, it just became a way of transferring more blood and tears onto Dazai’s white prison garb. He’d be burning it the second he got the chance so he didn’t protest. Chuuya reached forward to tug on Akutagawa’s sleeve, bringing him in a little closer too.
Atsushi’s mouth opened periodically with about 800 things to say. But none of them seemed important enough to commit to. The four of them just breathed together. Like a hivemind of exhaustion. And all Dazai could think was thank god, I didn’t get them killed…
The stillness of the airport and the rhythm of everyone’s breathing slowly calmed their collective minds. Even still, there was a grave weight of lethargy that was pulling them all down.
“D…” Atsushi made the effort to try and form his first word. As clumsily and incoherently as a newborn, he managed to mumble out, “Dazai-san… I killed them…”
Dazai placed a hand on his back. “Yes, yes, very impressive, Atsushi-kun — You handled everything perfectly and put a stop to Fyodor’s mad plan — I can’t even begin to lavish you in the amount of praise you deserve—”
“NO!” Atsushi’s voice shattered.
Dazai was slightly taken aback by the sharpness. Before he could figure out what that meant or how to react, Akutagawa reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out. A book. A green book with a red binding… Dazai’s heart all but stopped.
Akutagawa offered the book to him but Dazai couldn’t bring himself to take it. It must have been a trick or an illusion — a way of getting him back for making so many mistakes — it was his punishment for being such a bad partner—
Akutagawa forced it into his hands. Despite having resided in the coat pocket, the book was ice cold.
Dazai wasn’t breathing. It felt wrong to. If he didn’t disturb this moment, maybe it wouldn’t be real. Maybe time wouldn’t continue if he just stopped everything for a while.
“I…” Atsushi’s voice was nothing but a guilty squeak. “I was too late…”
Dazai gasped for air. He tried to laugh but his usual smoothe giggle couldn’t find its footing on the shakiness of his breathing. “No… You idiot — I was too late.”
Holy shit… he was too late.
He looked down at the notebook and resented its matte-finish — he deserved to see, in its shine, the shameful face of its owner’s killer. He should have had a mirror so he could more accurately loathe himself — so he could put a face to the idiot — the slow-thinking fool — that had managed to go and get his coworker— his friend— his partner, Kunikida Doppo killed.
“Shit… not blondie…” Chuuya grumbled, taking in the notebook for himself.
“Where’s the body?” Dazai said, coldly.
Atsushi just shook his head.
“Evaporated… Like the rest…” Akutagawa answered for him.
Dazai’s face stiffened just a little bit. He looked around at all of the civillians and airline staff that were dead and resented them. Just because they were crushed by buildings meant they got to have a corpse? Because getting killed by a god disqualifies you from having a proper burial? Dazai felt sick to his stomach.
In his hands — that was the best body he was going to be able to come up with. He looked down at it once more. It was still cold. Still lifeless and unbreathing like inanimate objects so often were. He dared not open it… He feared that, if he did, the last remnants of Kunikida’s life would slip away forever… Instead, he stepped back from everyone, turned around, looked out at the airport… and held the notebook to his chest.
“Dazai-san, I’m so sorry!” Atsushi sobbed.
Dazai’s shoulders tensed. The kid didn’t understand how wrong he was about this. He didn’t understand Dazai at all. He took one last moment with the notebook over his heart before he turned back around and hit Atsushi on the head with it. It was a gentle hit, but Atsushi let out a whimper.
“My fault,” Dazai said, almost caveman-like, “It’s
my
fault. I always make—
made…
trouble… for Kunikida-kun… And I simply have done so again… This is my fault.”
“B-But I was
right there,
I could have—”
“There was nothing you could have done.” But there were a million that I could have…
When Atsushi broke down crying, falling to his knees, it became very easy for Dazai to push everything else aside. He tucked the notebook away and kneeled down in front of him, placing his hand on the kid’s head. He didn’t say anything — he knew he couldn’t say anything that helped. Kunikida was dead, for god’s sake. When it finally felt real, Dazai was sure he’d be inconsolable too. For now… Atsushi was in front of him and sad. That felt real. That felt all too terribly tangible. While it wasn’t the reunion he was expecting and it was a far cry from the one he was hoping for… he always knew there’d be tears. He just sort of didn’t expect them to be Atsushi’s alone.
Kunikida would have cried. While releasing words as sharp and fierce as any, tears would have streamed down his pink cheeks. He would have had to settle his glasses on his head and take several hours to himself to calm down completely — so overwhelmed with relief that he could do little else.
Dazai tried to think of the last time he had seen him — or the last thing he had said to him or heard from him… And he felt like a true monster for not being able to. That was the thing — he shouldn’t have had to remember because he should have gotten the chance to see him again— he shouldn’t have had to remember because that wasn’t meant to be the end!
When Atsushi let out another little squeak, Dazai realised he’d been grabbing at his hair like a crazy person. He quickly let go, and tried to soothe the scalp he hadn’t meant to attack. With his other hand, he placed it over his chest, and squeezed the fabric tightly. There was a terrible sensation beneath. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a heart attack but… there was something wrong in there… His heart felt like it was dismantling itself — like it was fracturing… How painful it was….