Chapter Text
The four men stand there in the center of the next memory that begins to appear. Even Dazai has no idea what it can be, for most of the worst has passed.
Chuuya frowns as he stares up to see if his partner has any ideas, but from the looks of it, he doesn't.
Atsushi and Akutagawa stare at eachother in the few moments of peace they have, and they both know they have to talk about whatever relationship between them is. For they know eachother too much to kill, not like either of them was going to kill the other anyway.
Dazai stares at the distance for a while, focusing on trying to remember what could happen now, and then a sudden pain erupts in his head, and he shuts his eyes tightly as he grabs his head in his hands.
Chuuya startles and Akutagawa stills at the sudden chaos.
"Oh my God–!"
The white space around them begins to glitch. Memories appearing all around like a broken computer screen, scattering across the area. The voices muffle and the loud noises of those past memories are all mixed.
"What is going on?!", Chuuya shouts, covering his ears with his hands and beside him, Dazai flinches from the bright flashes of the memories.
Memories both happy and sad. All of his memories.
Chuuya looks to Dazai for insight on the situation, but the man looks just as puzzled as if not more than himself as he tries to keep his eyes open despite the pain. Confused and completely baffled at the situation.
Akutagawa is staring at the sight around him, it's reminiscent to the end of the world, in a sense. It doesn't make him feel better about it considering he has no idea what is happening.
"Is it over-?!", Atsushi shouts, and the brown-haired man hopes it is, because he has no idea what else this would hold if not that.
Suddenly, everything goes black. The pain in Dazai's head subsides and almost instantly... all the noise goes silent and the four men are standing there with bated breaths.
Like a switch, a memory begins once more. This time, everything around them is still pitch-black. It is silent for a moment, the only sound being the quietened breathing of four people.
This memory begins with nothing but a voice echoing around them. The voice is gravelly and heavy, it's almost distorted and it starts like the drop of blood into pure clean water. A puff of smoke into fresh air.
A splash of black ink onto a clean page.
It's different and it's older.
Yet, Dazai recognises it all the same.
The detective stands up straight with eyes wide in horror and blood rushing through his ears. This can't be possible. It can't be real, because this never happened.
The only other way this is possible is...
No.
There is no way unless–
"Don't call me Odasaku."
—This isn't his memory.