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English
Series:
Part 9 of suicidal maniac
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Published:
2020-04-13
Completed:
2020-07-05
Words:
984
Chapters:
2/2
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52
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once a killer, always a killer

Summary:

“Hmm?” not-Dazai (because Dazai would never do what this man has just done in front of them, he would never, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t-) hums. Without a response, he continues blithely, “Well, what did you need?”

(standalone, part of a drabble series)

Notes:

um. not exactly sure what this is but i like it, so. enjoy?

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: once a killer

Chapter Text

Brown-amber eyes gleam red in the dim streetlight. There is a body slumped on the pavement in front of him, face to the sky. From what is visible, the jaw is shattered, teeth displaced and digging into all the wrong places, eyes rolled back; there are three, bleeding bullet wounds in the body.

They shudder.

The demon in the place of their friend looks down disdainfully upon the body, contempt clear in his narrow eyes as the evening Yokohama air seems to get chillier by the second. It’s unbelievably frightening - he’s so unlike their friend; their coworker.

A sigh, and out of his mouth comes a cloud of warm fog into the cold air.

Then one, two-

Kyouka hides her face in Atsushi’s shirt.

-three, four, five-

Kunikida stares, horror clear and unable to look away. Kenji averts his eyes.

-six, seven-

Naomi and Tanizaki turn to hold each other.

-eight-

Yosano flinches. Ranpo moves to hold her hand, squeezing hard.

-nine, ten, eleven-

“Stop.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker towards them, lazily, and it’s so very clear that he knows that they were watching him the whole time. But the bullets, firing into the already dead body, have stopped.

“Please,” Atsushi, this time, not Kyouka, pleads. He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for.

“Hmm?” not-Dazai (because Dazai would never do what this man has just done in front of them, he would never, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t-) hums. Without a response, he continues blithely, “Well, what did you need?”

Atsushi’s eyes are wide when he finally tears his away from the mutilated corpse on the ground to meet not-Dazai’s increasingly red ones.

“What…” he whispers, but it feels like the loudest sound he’s ever made. His gaze almost strays back to the corpse. “What did he do?” he asks, because Dazai is Dazai, even not-Dazai, and he must have a reason, a plausible, perfectly sane, completely reasonable-

“Alright, I’ll tell you what he did,” Dazai says, the edge of a child-like smile curling at his face, a cooling body ridden with fourteen holes laying at his feet.

Someone swallows, painfully loud in the silence of the still night.

The smile grows. “Nothing, really. I just felt like it.”

(Later, when Dazai tells Chuuya all about the strange encounter he had on the way to the Bar Lupin, the shorter teen replies with a scoff and a line about how crazy he is, and that of course he’ll never change, no matter what ‘the Agency’ had said.

“And besides, they’re dead now,” the chibi says.)

Chapter 2: always a killer

Summary:

-a hall, a cooling body, bandages unfurling and a hand thudding limply on the ground because he wasn’t fast enough, he didn’t make it in time; and two - a chilly, dark Yokohama evening, a street bathed in dim light, blood staining his hands many times that night-

/

He remembers years and years ago, like a faded dream, a corpse at his feet with fourteen holes, a group of ability users in the dim streetlight, helpless against him and his dangerous teenage whims without their abilities.

Notes:

okay, so. i'm sorry. you may need either tissues or something to punch.

Comment that inspired a part 2:

“FUCK i can just IMAGINE future dazai slowly meeting everyone, growing to know and care for them, slowly remembering that encounter so many years ago, then trying desperately to find a way to save his comrades, his friends, his FAMILY, only one day for them to disappear and him to be left behind, and that awful pit of (nononono) horror in his stomach as he tries to remember how he felt when he killed them, and the building, burning self-hatred he can’t control when he realizes,,,, AH” -writhen_writ

it's not quite the same as this, but it's definitely... something. tbh, my chest still feels tight and in pain when i read it over, but that might just be me.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Agency is gone.

Dazai doesn’t want to know where they are, but he does. He can’t help but count the seconds, the minutes, bloody, rusty eyes screwed shut, standing there in the room now devoid of everything but him and a cooling body, remembering, wondering how long they have until-

But, no.

That’s not how this works.

It’s not seconds, or minutes. And it’s not until.

It’s years, and it’s since.

Dazai listens to the silence, and remembers- he remembers mere minutes ago, the echo of Kunikida’s shout and Atsushi’s growly yelp as the ability grabs them both. Of the image of Kyouka and Demon Snow slashing desperately at the grasping tendrils. 

He remembers years and years ago-

(no, minutes to go until, please, there’s got to be time, he can get there fast enough, Odasaku will live-)

-two places. One - a hall, a cooling body, bandages unfurling and a hand thudding limply on the ground because he wasn’t fast enough, he didn’t make it in time; and two - a chilly, dark Yokohama evening, a street bathed in dim light, blood staining his hands many times that night, of the blond man’s shout and of the white haired boy’s growly yelp. Of the image of a young, raven-haired girl with an ability so similar to his Ane-san’s crying out as her ability shatters against his.

He remembers years and years ago, like a faded dream, a corpse at his feet with fourteen holes, a group of ability users in the dim streetlight, helpless against him and his dangerous teenage whims without their abilities.

But, now, he knows, doesn’t he? Kunikida and Atsushi and Kyouka and Kenji and Yosano and Tanizaki could have defeated him, especially the young, sixteen-year-old him of the mafia, however demonic he was. If they didn’t, it wasn’t because, like he remembers thinking at the time, they were weak and undeserving and in shock of his ability taking theirs away.

Kunikida knows how to fight without his ability. 

Yosano knows how to fight without her ability. 

Kyouka knows how to fight without her ability.

His Agency could fight without their abilities- it was because his Agency knew him, and because they are weak (never undeserving) and moral and they knew him and wouldn’t (it was never couldn’t, oh god) willingly hurt him, put him in pain, make him suffer (like he deserves to; what has he done, what did he do), even a him set on the idea of their blood splattered on the concrete, painting the street with red, red, thick blood, the white haired boy especially seemed to have so much blood and his hands had been so red and his laughter and their screams and the echoing gunshots so loud-

Dazai shudders.

He stills.

And pulls a gun from his pocket.

(Later, Dazai goes to Chuuya, and tells him about the time traveling ability user and his bullet-ridden fate. He says, slurring, at some point in the long, long night, “I wish I’d kept him alive, Chuuya.”

Chuuya has sad, sad blue eyes. “Why?” he says.

“Because then-” Dazai coughs, and wants to cry but finds himself unable, which makes him want to cry even more, “then, maybe-”

Chuuya puts a heavy hand on his head, and pushes it back into his lap, and strokes his brown, blood-spattered locks.

“I’m sorry,” the chibi says.)

Notes:

if anyone wants to rage at me in comments, go ahead. i needed to rage at myself for writing this, ffs

Notes:

leave a kudos if you liked it and if you like, a comment, too! i'm also open to ideas/prompts if anyone has anything they want to suggest. no promises, of course, but it'll definitely go on a list. plenty of time right now, after all.

thanks for reading!

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