Chocolate eyes blankly stared at the anarchy surrounding him.
The impenetrable walls he had built and spent years perfecting had collapsed all around him. His once stable world crashed and burned like a dying star. Except it wasn't as peaceful and beautiful as a supernova. No, the destruction of his world was much more chaotic and brutal. Standing in the ruins of his once calm world, tendrils of fire licking his skin, only one thing ran through his mind.
What went wrong?
It didn't feel like that at first. It started off as a tingling numb feeling. The inability to feel anything. Until, suddenly, breathing seemed to be impossible. Gasping for air through the tight chains around his neck, his throat clenching with every breath taken. An unknown weight pulling him down, dragging him into an abyss of melancholic despair.
A singular brown eye could only stare in shock at the sight before him. The only friend he had ever known, lying in a pool of his own blood. The crimson liquid pouring from the numerous bullet wounds, soaking his clothes, staining his skin. Yet, despite the situation at hand, he could only gently smile up at him.
"People live to save themselves…how true".
Ocean blue eyes maintain eye contact with a chocolate brown eye. Their steely gaze unwavering.
"…nothing beyond what you would expect will appear. Nothing in this world can fill that lonely hole you have. You will wander in darkness for eternity".
Dazai looked at the pale man in his arms with a troubled expression. His eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"There's something I want to say to you".
His body tensed. This couldn't be happening.
"No you will make it! So don't talk like that-".
The dying man interrupted him, cutting him off.
"Be on the side that saves people. If both sides are the same, become a good man. Save the weak, and protect the orphans. Neither good nor evil means much to you, I know…but that'd make you at least a little bit better… of course I know. I know better than anyone. Because…I am your friend".
A weak, trembling hand reaches up to undo the bandages around the brunettes face, revealing his left eye. Dazai showed no reaction, his unblinking gaze set on Odasaku's dying form.
A metallic scent polluted the air around them, the intensity causing him to choke on his breath. Smooth oak floors painted with a fresh coat of red. The lively colour spreading through the silent hall.
Odasaku felt oddly calm and relaxed. The beating heart of his friend served as a lullaby, urging him to sleep. Dazai's warm embrace was a nice contrast against the cold blood pooling around him. He felt so comfortable and at ease in Dazai's arms. His eyelids felt so heavy, maybe he could close his eyes for just a bit.
The dying man smiled his last smile before his tense and heavy body relaxed suddenly. His heart beat slowly ceased and he let out his final breath.
Oda Sakunosuke had died.
That was the tipping point for Dazai. Uncomfortably, his heart clenched and the tears he so desperately tried to hold back, spilled over. His breath caught in his throat as he choked out a sob. Bandaged hands flew to his tear stained face, frantically attempting to muffle the heartbreaking cries.
No. Why did this have to happen? He was too late. If he had arrived just a couple of minutes earlier, then perhaps Odasaku would still be alive. It should have been him instead.
Dazai's monologue was interrupted by men approaching him, dressed in suits and armed with guns. Everything seemed to be a blur, he couldn't seem to comprehend the suited men carrying Odasaku's body away and one of them offering his condolences. He said that he was a good man and that he knew that something like this would happen, it was the Port Mafia after all. What does he know? He never knew Odasaku like Dazai did. He was never there with them in Lupins Bar after a long day. He was never there for any of it. What right did this stranger have thinking that he knew him.
None.
The figures dressed in black suits departed silently with the body of his dead friend. Oh how Dazai so desperately wanted to tear their arms off for simply laying a finger on his friend. Yet he had to compose himself, he couldn't allow himself to submit to his emotions. No matter how much the clenching of his fists swayed him, or the grinding of his teeth made him think otherwise. He had been doing this for years. He was a professional. The best of the best. All he would have to do is forget about him and move on like he was used to. Like he was supposed to do.
Just accept it Osamu. Oda Sakunosuke is dead.
Dead.
Odasaku was dead. Odasaku is dead.
That fact hadn't kicked in quite yet. Dazai's mind was still reeling in over the fact that Odasaku is dead.
His hollow and empty eyes blankly stated at the blood stain infront of him. The only physical reminder that Odasaku was ever there. There were no physical traces of him ever existing, the Port Mafia made sure of it.
No one would mourn his death, just a topic of discussion in passing. A way to break the silence. No one would grieve him. Such fickle things like love and friendship were frowned upon and advised against. They could be used against you, and that meant you were weak. To be human was a sign of weakness, because it meant that you had what most had forsaken long ago.
Your humanity.
To be humane, one had to be empathetic, compassionate, tender, sympathetic, benevolent and merciful.
Do you know what happens to people who are humane?
They get destroyed.
And do you know why?
Because they are weak. Naïve. Stupidly innocent and blind to the cruel, cruel world around them.
Humane people are the easiest to break. You show them that the world isn't as beautiful as they may think and reveal the horrors of this ugly world, and they slowly begin to crumble and unravel. Once you tip the one domino, the entire structure comes tumbling after simultaneously. A common practice in this line of work.
Most - if not all - of the people in the Mafia did not know what they were getting themselves into. Because surely if they had, they wouldn't have agreed to join in the first place. After all, who would want to have the blood of countless people permanently stained on their hands? The guilt of knowing that you killed them. Not some accident. Or natural cause. But you.
It would be impossible for a human to continue living like that if they had their humanity. The endless guilt and regret invading their every though until it becomes too much.
For one to survive in such a cold, desolate world, intent on crushing life itself. They must forsake their humanity - the one thing that makes them human and become ...
No Longer Human.