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How ironic!
Really, Dazai never thought that he would covet the position of Boss. Even after countless snide remarks passed by that wretched Mori Ougai, even after the various precautions taken by that man making sure that the younger boy was always at a distance and behind a wall of armed guards.
Hilarious.
He still didn’t want that position. It was useless.
After all, his purpose was to die as fast and as painless as possible.
Funny.
He looked down, blood still coating his hands, his shoes, the walls, the dead body of the Port Mafia Boss.
Oops, former boss!
A hollow laugh echoed in the room as he turned, surveying the carnage around him. The dead bodies littering the floor let out the stench of fresh blood, almost singing Dazai’s nostrils due to their intensity. He smiled, turning back around, staring down at his former doctor, the one who had brought him into this life. The movement in his face had not been of any joy, moreso a serenely distant look, as if he was in his own world…
Yet, as soon as his eyes fell back onto the dead man on his bed, his humorless smile dropped, his eyes blank as usual.
Killing him was fairly easy, truly, it was too easy in fact. In a way, it almost felt like this was all fake, a dream, a false reality. How easy had it been returning from watching his beloved Odasaku die and pretending like he wasn’t affected? How Mori had somehow believed him? How he had secretly slipped poison into the man’s food so that when night time came, he would be far too lethargic and drained to even summon his ability? The next thing to do was simply get rid of the guards diligently protecting their boss and then slit his throat just like he had done to his predecessor.
It was too easy.
Getting rid of the guards was no problem either.
He had trust in Ryuunosuke’s abilities, after all. Though, he would never tell him that.
Ah. Right. Ryuunosuke.
“...Akutagawa-kun.” His words were barely above a whisper and yet, even in this situation, his voice was level. Tone eerily calm.
After a few moments, came the breathless reply. “..Dazai-san.”
Dazao didn’t bother to turn around, the younger boy’s exhaustion was clear from his voice alone. He supposed that practically forcing his apprentice to strike down several armed individuals at once may have been considered cruel but to be frank, he didn’t care.
He’d need this to survive in the Mafia. Plus, Ryuunosuke was his mentee, he could do with that stray dog that he picked up as he pleased. It was his choice to recruit him and yet, he couldn’t bring out any ounce of care of his well-being. Sure, objectively, he couldn’t have such an important pawn simply break down on him, be it physically or mentally, but Dazai simply couldn’t care enough to restrict how much abuse of power he exercised. That little protege of his took all his beatings and returned the next day to try and gain his approval, anyway, so surely he wasn’t all that affected.
That was a lie. Osamu was fully aware that Ryuunosuke’s mental scars were growing.
But did he care?
No.
Although, yet again objectively, he supposed he could admit that holding his sister hostage and threatening him into helping him may have been almost a tad bit too far.
Almost.
He didn’t care.
“....He’s dead.”
Dazai’s eyes flicked over to Ryuunosuke who had, at this point, made his way to his left, mouth slightly agape as he spoke and stared at the dead Boss.
“No.”
The younger boy glanced over at his mentor quizzically, clearly going through a torrent of emotions. Easy to see was his desperate attempt to keep a calm face like he had been taught but his body language betrayed his true feelings. Fear and confusion. Exhaustion and annoyance.
“Remember what I taught you,” Dazai continued, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a bloody knife.
Ryuunosuke gulped.
He knew exactly what those words meant.
What lesson his mentor wanted him to remember.
He didn’t want to delve back into memory lane, yet he did. Watching his first live interrogation, ending in an especially brutal execution, a metal bat to the head. Multiple. Times. His mentor made Ryuunosuke watch him do it, speaking the same words he wanted him to recall.
“To make sure they’re dead.” He breathed, blinking rapidly as his gaze traveled over to the knife. Suddenly, the room was too stifling. He wanted out. “But he’s clearly already–” He started, his words screeching to an abrupt halt at the actions he thereby witnessed.
Splat.
Blood oozed out of Mori’s stomach from the stab wound Dazai had just inflicted upon him. He had pulled the knife back out already, aiming it at another spot before plunging it deep into the man’s chest. He continued this.
Over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
All while Ryuunosuke watched, lips tightly sealed as if any noise he emitted would grab the attention of the creature in front of him.
At this point, his mentor was nothing but a husk of a human. Yes, he always gave off the aura of something similar, but never had he embraced it so wholeheartedly.
Ryuunosuke was scared.
He backed away.
Dazai stopped.
“Akutagawa-kun.”
Alarm bells were ringing in Ryuunosuke’s head. This boy wasn’t human. He wasn’t. Ryuunosuke had counted the stab wounds. Fifty five. The corpse on the bed was now almost completely mangled, that sickeningly dry metallic smell threatening to make Ryuunosuke gag. It reached his nostrils, it weighed in his throat, it invaded his lungs.
There was no remorse on the brunette’s face.
“Dazai-san.” He breathed, just barely above a whisper.
“I think we’re done, yes? Thank you for your help.”
…?
Dazai smiled.
He smiled.
Had he gone mad?
Perhaps.
Slowly, he let the knife he was gripping fall to the ground with a thud, almost soundless due to the carpeted floors
And then he turned heel, rummaging through his coat pocket as he walked and then taking out a key, dangling it up in the air so that Ryuunosuke could see, before halting in his gait.
“Take it from me later. You won’t be seen as my accomplice if they know it was against your will.” He said, in an eerily emotionless tone despite his smile. As if he wasn’t drenched in blood.
“Where are you going?” Ryuunosuke’s forehead creased as he looked at the keys, wanting to grab them, dash out and free Gin immediately. But he resisted. What was his mentor going to do?
“Do not follow me.”
Dazai’s words were firm, leaving no room for any argument. His back was turned to Ryuunosuke at this point, facing the doorway where he kicked a dead guard’s body away in order to step out.
“Are those your last orders?” Ryuunosuke hung at the doorway, clenching his fists as he stared at his mentor’s back.
He had a feeling. A nasty feeling where this was headed.
Dazai chuckled, quite possibly in the weirdest blend of emotions Ryuunosuke had ever seen from him. It was genuine laughter and yet, at the same time, it seemed pained. Miserable. Tired.
“Indeed.”
.-- .. - -. . ... ... / -- . / -. --- .--
Osamu looked down at Yokohama, his black coat billowing in the wind. It was nearing dark, with only faint rays of sunshine visible, leaving a sort of gradient of purple and orange in the sky.
How beautiful.
Osamu hoped this would be painless.
Witness me, world. He hummed, feeling the oddest urge to dance, though he merely twisted his waist a little to entertain this thought.
He stood on the ledge, his hands in his pockets as he pondered everything.
The day he met Mori. The day he joined the Mafia. The day he met Chuuya. The day he met Odasaku. The day he recruited Akutagawa. The day Odasaku died.
His life was eventful, yet it was one of much shame.
It didn’t matter now, he supposed.
He could hear shouting increase from downstairs through the open rooftop door, a small smile tugging at his lips at the thought of the chaos he had caused.
Wreaking havoc and blossoming entropy was one of his strong suits, he guessed.
He hummed, tilting his head up at the sky for the very last time.
And then he jumped.
I’m sorry for not fulfilling what you wanted, Odasaku. He thought as he plummeted to the ground.
.. .----. .-.. .-.. / .-. . ... - .- .-. - / -- -.-- / .-.. .. ..-. .
Chuuya stared.
He stared at Osamu’s lifeless body stiffly.
He had rushed back to headquarters as fast as possible, only being informed that the little bastard had done something.
He didn’t think it was this.
He couldn’t believe it.
His mouth opened and closed several times, not giving any semblance of a reaction to his subordinates.
He stared.
Osamu’s body was, well, wrecked. The fall from the Port Mafia building’s rooftop had completely decimated him. He was unrecognizable.
Those bandages visible in that pile of muck seemed like they were mocking the redhead.
“What a fucking mess you made, Mackerel.” He hissed, gritting his teeth as he finally looked away.