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Dazai Osamu, the child prodigy of the Port Mafia, stood at the edge of a bridge. He was leaning forward, watching the water as it crashed against the sides of the shore and waited to swallow him whole. Behind him, Mori Ougai—the boss of the Port Mafia—stood, holding onto the coat that Dazai had discarded. Next to the boss, Dazai's own subordinates watched with blank expressions as he dangled his life over the water.
Somewhere within the crowd, Dazai was sure that, if he looked hard enough, he would see the bright flash of orange hair. Though, he made no effort to look for it.
His mind was taxing on his own shoulders, heavy with knowledge and strategies. Every move was required to be a calculated one—and it was only a fun game until it became clear that the death and darkness within the Port Mafia wouldn't be enough to give Dazai what he wished for.
There was nothing of value in this life, even when he was sure there had to be one. Why else would humanity insist on living through every waking day? Perhaps he simply wasn't of humanity.
The water beneath the bridge roared, dragging Dazai's muddy thoughts back to the freedom waiting just below his feet. The wind blew through his matted hair, obscuring the view of the people who watched patiently as they awaited for him to take a step away from the edge.
Dazai found himself smiling.
Then, his hands were freeing themselves from the bridge's railing.
Dazai's freefall lasted a long time—longer than it should have. He watched the sun sink below the Yokohama skyline, feeling as the wind tugged on his clothes, and as the water sprayed up to welcome him into its clutches. He allowed his eyes to close, a soft breath escaping his lips.
Only, his peace lasted for a mere half-second. Dazai's body hit the water with enough force to make his vision go black.
No, he thought, frantically clawing at the water sucking him under as if it were the hands of a devil, I didn't want the pain. He opened his mouth to call for help, but the water flooded him. And with that, a sudden, bitterly cold realization: even if he was heard, no one would help.
Not even the one Dazai had expected to reach out a hand had attempted to call out to him. He knew it was because he didn't deserve it.
His limbs grew heavy with freedom, and he sank away.
~~~
"…azai," a voice said, sounding far away. "Oi, Dazai. Mackerel!"
Dazai's eyes were slow to open, the dream washing over him with dread. He was drenched in a cold sweat, his coat wrapped tightly around him. His bandages began to itch uncomfortably.
"What took you so long?"
Dazai looked up at the voice, and was immediately blinded by two brightly mismatched eyes with just as equally bright orange hair. The sun from the open shipping container door shown in, perfectly glinting off the boy in front of him to mask Dazai in shadow, while leaving himself with a halo.
"…Chuuya's too bright," Dazai said with a groan, turning to face the wall.
"Maybe you're just too damn lazy." Chuuya peeled Dazai's coat off him, causing a lot of obnoxious whining to fill the small space. "Seriously, did you sleep through every ring?"
Dazai peeked over his shoulder, seeing his phone laying on the floor; there were 23 notifictions, some from Mori, and most from Chuuya. He didn't say anything.
But Dazai's silence was answer enough, and Chuuya sighed, rubbing his temples. Still, he sat himself down next to Dazai's bed.
"Tch, whatever. I finished the mission without your dumbass anyway."
Go back to sleep.
Dazai could understand the words woven beneath what Chuuya said as if they had been directly transferred into his mind. He hummed, turning back over and closing his eyes.
There was a smile on Dazai's face, as he was reminded of a guard dog positioning itself in a way to protect its person, but he didn't comment on it. Not this time. Maybe some other time he could bring it up, but he didn't want to risk Chuuya's presence disappearing.
If Dazai felt his coat being laid gently over him, he didn't comment on that either.
It was nice to feel safe. . . sometimes.