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"Hey shitty Dazai?", the hand in his hair slows down to rest, tangled amongst brown strands. Dazai blows a raspberry.
"Yes my dearest Slug~", he drawls, pouting at the sudden deprivation of affection. His head is still lying on Chuuya's lap as he opens his eyes and looks up into stormy blue.
There's something in his gaze that makes Dazai sit up and actually pay attention to the words he is about to say. There's a pause, and Chuuya purses his lips before he manages to get the words out.
"If this mission goes wrong...", the executive begins slowly. "...I don't think I'll be able to live with myself."
Dazai blinks gradually, like a cat, like there is confusion in his eyes, before he realises what part of the mission Chuuya is on about.
"Like... I know our lives are risky and we can't be sure we'll even survive until the next day... and y'know I'd always rather it be me than you, Mackerel. But I mean it as in if you end up dying, because of me, ya know?"
"Why do you think so, Chibi", he says before he gets a glint in his eyes. "I think I'd be quite happy either way... dying by my Chuuya's hands?! what a dream!-"
Within a split-second, theres a gloved hand coming to slap his right arm. It's not hurtful in the least and half-hearted at most, but when Dazai looks over at the other again, and to his horror there are honest-to-god tears in Chuuya's eyes, he figures he can be truthful just for once.
He sighs, looking into the sakura trees that have just begun to blossom in the distance.
He doesn't comment on Chuuya's self-sacrificial statement because that would open an entire new wormhole of their relationship, which neither of them can afford to resolve right now with the world going to shit in a few months.
Dazai looks up into the leaves of the tree they are sitting under.
"...Statistically speaking, the possibility of this mission going sideways is around 29.7 percent, but realistically, it all depends on Fyodor and what he thinks and does. So I cannot tell you that it is not a possibility, Hatrack, but..."
A pause, while Chuuya stills entirely.
"What do–"
But Dazai continues, brown eyes strong with resolve as he turns back and puts his hand under Chuuya's chin, tilting it up to meet his eyes.
"...Forgetting all of the logical things and everything that can or won't happen, and forgoeing what is out of my control. I can tell you for sure that if I do end up dying, I will tear apart the heavens and the hells to be able to hold you again, so don't worry, Chuuya."
The confession is so abrupt and so honest Chuuya can't even process as his face starts to burn, but Dazai is so serious, so honest. He is laying himself bare, and Chuuya just can't bring himself to stop him as he inches closer.
Dazai's breath hits warm on his lips, and his eyes are loving and earnest and full of something words cannot describe.
But then he speaks again.
"..Because I promise that when death finally does choose to take my hand, I will hold you with the other, and you know that I'll find you in every lifetime"
And Chuuya just can't seem to hold himself back any longer.
"Oh Grantors of the Dark Disgrace, do not wake me again"
Crimson markings curl around his arms and up his face, white clouds before panicked red eyes. Gravity begins to warp and twist him into something that is no longer human.
Dazai watches, and watches, and watches.
"No...", brown eyes are wide are full of panic and something else that can be called almost-love.
Sigma watches as the man begins to throw around stuff on the desk and look for some sort of switch.
"No.. no-no-nonono-NO-!", glass shatters onto the white tiled-floor. The screen is broken, yet Dazai can see the blood flowing from Chuuya's eyes clearly.
Fyodor seen through their plan, of course he fucking did. Purple eyes stare up at the camera and then-
He grins.
Brown eyes darken as a shadow falls across his face. The gun is held tight in his hands, smoking, gripped like a lifeline, like if it's let loose, Dazai's sanity will go with it.
He doesn't spare Sigma a single glance as he rushes out of the room.
His lungs burn with every step, and the hauntingly white hallways are starting to blur into one another with the speed he is running at. Sirens blare and lights flicker as he tries to get to ground zero.
He can already feel Chuuya from the way the building is shaking.
Silver hair flashes in his peripheral vision and Dazai barely looks up before he holds the pistol up and shoots, barely missing the target.
"Dazai-san–!"
Atsushi.
Behind him follows Akutagawa, right on his tail. They're both bloody and tattered but they're here. He didn't notice it before but in Atsushi's arms there is a child. Yumeno. Oh he's so proud of his subordinates.
"Dazai-san-", Akutagawa coughs. "C-Chuuya-san is down there, he's destroying the entirety of Meursault-!", he manages to get out in between pants.
Brown eyes are frantic, manic, almost. He stares at them yet through them all at once, and Dazai almost growls as he sprints past them towards the storm that is Nakahara Chuuya.
"Dazai-san!", they chase after him but they don't try to stop him. They know better than that.
Akutgawa helps breaking off or through doors either Rashoumon, while Atsushi's senses lead them exactly to where they need to go, even Yumeno senses the gravity of the situation for they don't even speak as the rest rush to Chuuya. Dazai would be thankful had he not been feeling the rage of a thousand suns.
"Chuuya!"
There is a storm brewing in the centre of the infinite dice room, over half of the holding cells have been destroyed mercilessly, including the criminals they had once held.
A wormhole of black and red glows in the middle of it all, balls of energy fly out as anything living is sucked right in. Two hands hold up the ball of energy, surrounded by a crimson glow. It looks too much like a halo, a halo of an angel trapped in hell.
And in the centre of that hell, Chuuya is suffering.
"—Chuuya!"
Dazai runs forward but a hand around his arm stops him straight, he turns back, snarling, but Atsushi is in tears as he immediately points to the where the floor is empty.
"Akutagawa-", he starts, but the boy is already on it as he extends Rashomoun and wraps around Dazai's waist tightly before practically launching him towards Chuuya.
Pieces of floating debris leave open cuts across his face and body but he does not care, Dazai grits his teeth hard as he lands on one of the final standing cells, Arahabaki sees him and laughs as it launches a ball of energy straight at him. Dazai doesn't think, he jumps towards the blackhole.
'You know I'd always rather it be me than you, Mackerel.'
Towards Chuuya.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck
No, not him. Not Chuuya, anyone but him. He's already lost Odasaku, if he loses Chuuya he doesn't know what he will do.
It's hard to reach him, especially when there's so many obstacles in his way, but Dazai doesn't hesitate to take leap after leap before he finally gets within Chuuya's proximity. A gravitational forcefield almost pushes him away down into the abyss but he manages to grab onto a stray piece of broken rebar hanging off one of the platforms.
"Chuuya!", he yells. "Wake up!, Slug-!, you have to break through!", Dazai screams as he pushes himself towards the god, Arahabaki lets out a loud noise as the detective makes it into the gravitational pull of the blackhole.
"CHUUYA—"
Dazai reaches forward.
His fingertips graze against Chuuya's cheek.
The word goes silent.
Then all of a sudden everything begins crashing down.
Rashoumon flashes across the room and grabs both men as everything in the room begins to fall down into the ground that is over seven-hundred feet below. Dazai doesn't care, all he cares about is the man who is now cradled in his arms.
Bloodied. Broken.
All because of Dazai.
The cold white lights flicker above them, the first thing Dazai notices when they get on solid ground and after he sets his partner on the floor is that Chuuya isn't breathing.
Chuuya isn't breathing.
"Chuuya?"
His hands shake as he slowly puts two fingers right below the edge of Chuuya's jaw, then on his wrist, then under his nose.
"Chuuya-?, Chu– Hatrack you- funny- this isn't funny Slug come on- where did you learn this–?!", he laughs mirthlessly, breath trembling. Chuuya doesn't move, he doesn't even twitch.
Behind him, Akutagawa stands unnaturally still while Atsushi is beside him, already looking down at Chuuya with tears in his eyes. Yumeno is quiet and their face is blank as they stare at the executive lying on the floor.
"Chuuya!", Dazai yells, shaking him. "You- you're my dog, Chibi, you can't fucking- no- no, get the fuck up–!"
It goes on for a few minutes until Atsushi can't take it anymore, he drops to his knees right beside Dazai and grabs his hand as he's shaking Chuuya like a ragdoll.
His hands are covered in the other's blood. Dazai doesn't even seem to notice.
"D-Dazai-san... please", the weretiger cries softly. "Chuuya-san, he's—"
"—NO!",
Dazai snarls, teeth bared as he glares daggers at Atsushi, eyes bloodshot. He's pushed him far enough to land on his ass just before Akutagawa's feet.
"He's not dead-!"
Atsushi's face crumbles and he covers it with his arm as he lets out a sob.
A few minutes go by with Dazai staring down at Chuuya like he's some sort of alien. Like he's not real. Like this is not real.
...
"A shame... staring at him isn't going to bring him back to life, druzhok.
Dazai freezes.
Then slowly, like a predator, his face lifts up from where it's been looking at his partner. His eyes are rimmed red yet they are dark and sharp, his jaw is shaking from how tight he is clenching it and it feels as though the walls around him are closing in when he looks up and sees the man who is responsible for all of this.
Purple eyes, mirthful.
That godawful grin.
Dazai doesn't hesitate before he shoots him twice. Once in his thigh and then his abdomen. Fyodor jolts before he falls backwards onto the floor.
He grins, teeth bloodied.
The detective takes one last look at Chuuya and stands up, walking towards the rat. Behind him, Akutagawa rushes to his boss's side with Atsushi right beside him.
"Dazai... hah.. and here I thought you were just as heartless as me. Oh.. how the mighty have fallen.", Fyodor laughs out, glancing at Chuuya barely before he looks back at the brown-haired man.
"That is what makes us so different, vyrus.", Dazai hisses, holding up the gun once more. He shoots him again, twice in the left shoulder.
"Blyat-!", the man curses, looking down at the new wound on his shoulder before he scoffs, looking back up at the detective.
"You do not.. wish to know how I managed to activate.. ah- Corruption?", there is a hint of a smile on his face and Dazai wants nothing more than to peel it off with a scalpel.
"What I wish, is for the end of this game that you think you have won.", he spits out instead.
"Ah, friend. Surely you want to know... but if you mustn't ask, I shall tell you. It was not difficult in the slightest..", Fyodor snickered, eyes glinting with a malice man should be incapable of feeling.
A sigh, "...All I had to do was tell your loyal dog that his master was in grave danger, since I had deduced his plan of course. Then boom- surprise, the durachok was eager to destroy everything and reach you as soon as possible. Even if it meant destroying himself in the process...", he clicked his tongue, shaking his head with faux sympathy,
Dazai's blood boils. He thinks of Chuuya, he thinks of how he must have worried before resorting to something Dazai would rather have died than have to ask him to do.
He thinks of how much his slug must have believed in him enough to use Corruption. He thinks of how badly he failed him.
"Oh Fedya..."
Dazai laughs, a cruel sound full of hate and the grief of a mad man. His eyes are wide and manic and his hands are shaking with rage.
"If destiny were a script, I would rip out your pages and burn them to ash.. alas the universe is a cruel author, and it has written you in ink that never fades.”
He wipes off the blood from the corner of his mouth and spits red on Fyodor's face. The man's face curls in disgust but he does not revolt.
"-Ink that will be washed away today with the blood from your own sins."
He takes one look at Kyuusaku, and the child nods before they use their ability. The doll's waist snaps in half and suddenly there is blood running down across Fyodor's legs.
Atsushi is there crouched down by Akutagawa's side. The latter is holding onto Chuuya's lifeless form with tears in his eyes. Hands shaking, slick with blood and clothes dyed scarlet.
Dazai doesn't look back, he can't.
He's too afraid of what he'll see.
"Yumeno?"
The kid looks towards Dazai. Eyes wide in childish glee as they tilt their head in question. The man himself is stoic, face contorted in a cold, dark and blank expression.
"Decapacitate him."
Kyuusaku giggles before they grab the dolls arm, putting it up to the half detached head, and makes the doll rip its own head off.
Before them, Fyodor does the same. Within seconds, they hear one sickening twist and a crack, Fyodor's head lolls to the side, hands falling to his side. Dazai holds up the gun and shoots his body twice.
Purple eyes blink slowly, and shift towards the detective.
A beat.
Dazai moves forward swiftly and holds two fingers under his nose, then to the side of his neck. He moves away and aims a gun to the man's head for good measure, and shoots.
Blood spatters onto his already reddened clothes and onto his face. A few steps away, Atsushi flinches away as stray drops land on his shoes and soak into his trousers.
"If he wasn't dead before, he is now."
There's only silence.
A lot can happen in the span of two months. As in the world sorting itself out after the death of a monster who has been haunting generations of children and parents alike. A man whom's ability must truly have had an aspect to it in which it was meant for causing misery for others.
The Port Mafia stood back on their feet first. It wasn't easy rebuilding an empire without one of their most valuable assets, but Mori is one cunning bastard, and he managed to do it. The agency did it second, due to their still standing truce with the mafia, proving themselves innocent went smoothly especially due to the statements of the remaining Hunting Dogs.
All is well.
Except Nakahara Chuuya is dead.
And Dazai Osamu is the living corpse of a would-be suicide.
He takes the envelope with Chuuya's name on it out of the box, leaving it open as he walks away. He grabs a lighter from his pocket and Dazai holds the flame up to the corner of the enclosed letter.
The flames eat away at the paper until it's nothing but a pile of ashes in the palm of Dazai's hand. He sighs, pocketing the lighter.
The man closes his fist, crushing the ashes into powder before he reaches for the glass full of whiskey with his other.
Dazai brings his closed fist to above the glass and drops the ashes into the liquid. Black mixing with gold, he doesn't care about hygienics as he uses a finger to mix it up.
He takes a glance at the picture framed sitting by his bed. The picture that is going to be used at Chuuya's funeral.
Ha.
Chuuya's funeral.
It's so fucking unfair that he wants to cry.
Dazai closes his eyes and lifts the glass to his lips. Downing the contents in one breath. He coughs as it goes down his throat, burning and soothing and making him feel sick to his stomach all at once.
He chokes out a laugh.
Even in death, his stupid dog won't let him be in peace.
Well that just won't do.
Yokohama's Port is as colourless as it has been for the past few months despite the fiery sunset glistening over the dark, angry waters. The winter air is cold, and although Dazai is wearing nothing more than a thin sweater with pants, he feels nothing.
Not warm, not cold, not angry, not sad.
What he does feel is a slow, killing sort of grief, that's been taking every piece of him away bit by bit in the past two months he has spent in Chuuya's wake. What he does feel, is a crippling sense of both everything and nothing, a tasteless concoction of every emotion he's ever felt since that wretched day.
Something wet lands on the tip of his nose, and he blinks. The man looks up, and it's snowing. Iridescent flakes of ice begin to slowly pour over the city, and soon the bridge is covered in a blanket of white.
Quite fitting for a final view.
"You always did love the snow, Chuuya."
His head has started spinning, and he can already feel the poison come into affect. Dazai lets out a shallow breath before slowly reaching for the gun in his waistband, the metal is cold in his hands, and his heart feels like it is already drowning in the icy waters rushing below him.
Dazai leans forwards, aiming the gun to his head, finger resting on the trigger. The wind rushes past him, brown hair fluttering in the breeze.
"See you soon, Slug."
Dazai sees blue, he sees the snow falling, and a cloud vaguely the shape of a dog. A robin flies past just as the gunshot echoes amidst the sound of rushing water.
Then he sees no more.
Yet somehow, he still feels the phantom feeling of a hand slipping into his, halfway through his heart shutting.
The river stains crimson for fifty-five seconds. The sunset lasts another ten. Then the water turns blue, and the sky fades away from being a fiery red.
The current calms and the tide subsides, and there is not a trace of snow in the horizon after Dazai Osamu dies.