Dazai had saved him. Dazai was bleeding out on the floor. Dazai was going to die.

Because of the bullet. Because of him. It was always because of him.

He should've been faster. He should've been stronger. Dazai shouldn't be lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

With a cry of rage, Chuuya tore off his gloves and ran at the woman. He wanted to feel her pulse come to a stop. He wanted to feel the life leaving her body.

Another bullet fired from the gun. He jolted his body to the side, just barely managing to evade it. It was too late for her to fire another.

He slammed into her, pinning her up against the wall.

He didn't have his ability. He didn't have Arahabaki. He only had himself, but that was all he needed.

He refused to let them die here. He refused to let Dazai die here.

He twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop the gun. The woman's eyes glowed with sheer hatred at having lost the upper hand. Now, having disposed of the immediate threat that she possessed, he reached a hand up grabbing the woman's neck and squeezing tight.

He then lifted his arm until she was dangling a few inches off the floor. Her legs kicked out beneath her and her eyes began to bulge, as red veins enlarged in their depths.

He squeezed tighter and tighter, enjoying the look of pain and fear suddenly beginning to adorn her face.

She didn't deserve to live. She was a monster. She deserved to die.

Chuuya would make sure she paid for her sins.

However, a sudden jolting pain that resonated somewhere in his gut said otherwise, as he dropped her with a pained gasp.

He looked down.

A knife was protruding from his stomach, distantly reminding him of his parting with the sheep.

If he didn't remove it, then in theory he should be alright at least for the short run.

The thing was though, if he took it out, he could use this weapon to defeat the woman, who was now desperately gasping for breath on the floor, after having been almost straggled to death by his own monstrous hands. He could end this now. For while he would love to kill her with his own two hands, doing this, the unexpected, would be much more efficient.

Chuuya tore the blade from his stomach, stifling down the scream of pain that tried to escape his throat, before dropping down beside the woman.

He grabbed her from behind, straddling her waist with his legs and gripping her forehead with his empty hand to keep her still.

He lifted the blade, moving it to swipe cleanly across her neck.

She reached up, just barely managing to stop the blade before it could make contact, as she caught it with her hand. The blade tore through her palm.

Chuuya continued to apply pressure, feeling the blade starting to press up against bone.

"Okay, okay, okay. Stop! Stop! Stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The woman suddenly cried out, finally breaking her composure completely when faced with the high probability of her own death. Instead of the once fearless woman, now there was someone who sounded broken, afraid, and ever-so human.

"I have a daughter, please," the woman continued, her voice catching on her words, as she began to sob.

Chuuya pressed down harder, beginning to saw against the bone in her hands, making the woman scream. He had to do this. He had to kill her to save Dazai.

"She's five! She just started primary school, please, dear god. Please don't kill me. I can't leave her alone. I can't. My name's Camille, this organization is the only way to afford to support my daughter. Her name's Yuan and she's so smart and bright and I'm all that she has left. Please. My wife died. Years ago. If I leave she'll have no one left. Please, please, don't kill me. I'm sorry I shot your friend! I had no choice. Please, please you've got to believe me. I'm so incredibly sorry! Don't make me leave my daughter all alone. Please don't leave my baby all on her own. Oh god, please."

Yuan.

He'd known a Yuan once.

The starts of tears prickled in the corners of his eyes and his grip faltered for a moment, as he remembered the girl with pink hair and a teasing manner, who had once been like a sister to him. The girl who had been one of the people who had helped save him from the streets.

That girl had lost both of her parents. Could he really do that to another child?

In that moment of hesitation, Camille tore the knife from his hands with her own torn ones and jabbed it backward with the desperation that only a mother could possess. She just narrowly missed Chuuya's left eye, as he flung himself to the side. It would've been a direct hit too, if not for the sorry state of her hands which trembled as they gripped the knife.

That was stupid. So incredibly stupid. He couldn't afford to get distracted by such things. He could've ended it then and there, but now he'd have to find a new opening.

He couldn't let Dazai die. After all, he was supposed to be the one to kill him, right? Not some measly bullet.

So he had to make sure Dazai was okay. Even if that meant once more sacrificing the humanity that he longed to have.

He had to kill Camille. Even if it left her child alone. It was either kill or be killed. There was no other choice.

It didn't take much for Chuuya to reclaim the knife, as he tore it once more from Camille's scarlet hands.

He twisted his body, so he was now crouched over her while she lay prone on the floor.

He grabbed Camille's hands, pinning them to the ground.

Lifting the knife, he brought it down on her jugular.

Except he was stopped again, the blade now sticking right through her right hand that had somehow escaped his grip.

"Please, I can't leave my baby. I can't leave my little girl. Please, have mercy. Oh god, please."

He tore the knife up, splitting her hand in two, and stabbed down.

"No! Please-"

Blood gurgled in her throat, as he stabbed down hard. Her body seized. He didn't stay to watch. In the back of his mind, he wondered what would become of the girl, who was now without any mother. All because of him.

"Monster." He thought he heard behind him as he got off of her and raced towards Dazai, but it was alright. He already knew that. He'd known for a long time.

Upon reaching him, Chuuya slid to the floor, hands fluttering up to Dazai's throat, as he desperately checked his pulse. It was faint and much too slow for his liking, but he was still alive. He was still breathing.

That would just have to be enough.

Grabbing Dazai and swinging him up upon his back, Chuuya stumbled towards the door. The woman was dead now, rendering her nullifying ability useless against Chuuya, but now with the weight of his old partner pressed up against his back, he once again faced the reality of being without the helpful assistance of his ability.

Essentially, he'd be doing this alone.

But alas, he couldn't fail. He wouldn't fail. He would just have to be enough on his own.

His stomach burned from the darkening stab wound that gushed blood from his gut, but he ignored it, thinking of how much worse Dazai's bullet wound was. He'd survived much worse in the mafia anyways.

He could do this. He would get them out of there no matter what it took.

They wouldn't die here. They couldn't.

Stepping up to the woman's body, he swiped her high clearance keycard from her coat pocket. Then, went to go pick up the pistol, the metal that had caused so much damage to Dazai's now frail frame weighing heavily in his hand.

Once he left the interrogation room, there would be no telling what he'd face. With the number of cameras in this place, he'd be up against almost impossible odds, but hadn't it been that way his entire life? He'd find a way. He always did.

Swiping the keycard, Chuuya opened the door and ran.

Immediately gunfire chased him down the hallway, as he dodged and evaded the cruel metal, his training in the mafia and adrenaline fueling him.

Spinning around corners, ducking behind any sort of cover he could find, and shooting blind cover-fire behind him, Chuuya ran through the facility looking for an elevator or anything that could potentially bring him to the surface and out of this hell.

Bang.

A shot tore through his shoulder, sending him pitching forward, while scarlet red dripped down his clothes from the new hole marring his body.

Chuuya cried out in pain, as his vision swam with black spots.

But he couldn't stop. He had to save Dazai. He couldn't give up just yet.

So, he continued to run, shots echoing behind him, while he shot back, in a continued attempt to buy himself some time and cover. Another stray bullet hit his leg, making him stumble momentarily, but he kept running, even as his blood was drained from all the holes in his body.

He wouldn't just lay down and die without a fight. He couldn't.

Spinning around another corner, Chuuya was met with not more guns, but rather a heavily built man grinning, as he approached the pair with a long, serrated knife. Chuuya raised his gun, firing in retaliation, but the gun merely clicked.

It was empty. Fucking empty.

What lovely timing.

Chuuya twisted to the side, narrowly dodging the man, as he swung the knife at him.

Managing to put a little distance between himself and the man, Chuuya quickly laid Dazai up against the wall, before turning to face the man once more, bunching up his fists.

His ability stirred within him like a spark ready to burst into a fire.

The man swung at him again and Chuuya flipped backward, narrowly avoiding the knife once more. The fast motion stung his stab wound and he groaned, pressing a hand up against it, in a desperate attempt to quiet the pain.

He needed to end this quickly.

Seeing his show of weakness, his opponent let down his guard a bit, assuming he'd have an easy kill. It was a slip-up. A slip up that he would never make again. For Chuuya would neither fall so easily to a mere knife nor some random man.

The burly man swiped at him again, but this time with a little bit less precision, having misjudged his target for someone weaker than Chuuya actually was.

It was something that Chuuya had anticipated.

That time, instead of evading, he just grabbed the knife and used his ability to stop it from breaking his skin. The man's eyes widened in shock and he tried to back away but it was already too late, as Chuuya grabbed the man's wrist and proceeded to fling him against the far wall.

The man was dead on impact.

Blood exploded against the wall and dripped down Chuuya's face, matting in his hair.

Such violence and for what?

He ran to grab Dazai once more, lifting him onto his back. Then, he proceeded to again race down the ghostly hallways, narrowly avoiding gunfire that he could no longer deter with the now empty pistol and sudden lack of cover, as the hallways started to get increasingly narrow.

The gunshots in his arm and leg burned and his gut throbbed, but he forced himself to ignore it. If he let it get to him and stopped now, even just to catch his breath, he knew he wouldn't be getting back up.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't let Dazai die, just because he was weak.

Finally, he came upon an elevator and almost started crying out of relief. Chuuya sprinted up to it, frantically hitting the up button and flashing the keycard against a box placed next to the contraption, as the sound of his pursuers got increasingly closer.

The first of the pursuers emerged, letting out a volley of gunfire.

The door opened.

Chuuya flung both himself and Dazai into the machine, as where they had been standing only seconds prior was lit up with heavy fire. Desperately, he pressed them both up against the elevator's side in a last-ditch attempt for cover. Then, frantically he began jamming the buttons for the top floor and to get the doors to close.

One of the guards appeared in front of the elevator just as the doors were almost closed and lit the machine up with a volley of fire, as Chuuya ducked down. He pulled Dazai up even closer to his body, using his back as a shield. Then Chuuya squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the worst.

The elevator mirror behind them shattered into a million pieces, but Chuuya barely felt it as some dug into his back, his other injuries drowning out the pain from the glass.

It was only out of sheer luck that none of the bullets hit them.

Finally, the doors shut.

They had peace. No matter how short it would soon inevitably be cut.

They wouldn't be getting out of this one, this time, would they? It appeared their luck may have finally run out.

Once they reached the surface, there were sure to be people waiting for them there and there would be nothing left to do but die.

Chuuya shifted his position so that he was now sitting next to Dazai, rather than over him. He let his head rest against the others.

Was this really going to be how he died? In a volley of gunfire? In a foreign country with the man who he claimed to hate? The man who he actually loved?

A cough sounded next to him and Chuuya's eyes widened, turning his blue gaze upon Dazai's brown.

"Chuuya," Dazai rasped, "Ango… coming."

What?

He wasn't able to ask what exactly Dazai meant by that, but it was too late anyway, as the elevator came to a stop and Dazai slipped back into unconsciousness.

Chuuya forced himself to stand, lifting Dazai upon his back once more.

What Dazai had said could just be him losing his sanity in the throes of death, but what if he was right? What if Ango was coming?

Regardless, Ango wasn't going to make it in time at this rate, because Chuuya doubted he'd be waiting on the other side of that door.

He'd have to buy them some time. He'd have to buy Dazai some time.

He always knew he'd die young. He just wished he could die as himself.

Now resolved to what he had to do, Chuuya slipped his hat off his head, placing it on Dazai's own. At least if he died, he could force Dazai into wearing what he considered to be terrible fashion. It would be one last taunt before he likely succumbed to what he was about to do.

"I love you. I'm sorry I never said that."

The doors opened. Chuuya stepped out without any hesitation to find himself on the outside.

He laid Dazai up against the side of the prison.

The brightest green grass unfurled beneath his feet. Deep blue colored the sky above, speckled with clouds. The sun warmed his skin.

Maybe this wouldn't be the worst place to die.

The firing squad stood out before him, ability users bringing unknown variables into the mix stretched throughout their ranks. It was silent, as they waited to see what he'd do.

Unlike the man with the knife, they understood he was dangerous. These people played it safe.

Chuuya looked back one last time, taking in the sight of Osamu Dazai for what could be the very last time. If he was going to die, he didn't want to forget the man who'd somehow managed to hold a place in his heart despite every obstacle that had ever been thrown between them.

But he couldn't hold off the inevitable forever.

Instead of charging at the enemy. Instead of surrendering. Instead of begging for his life. Instead of exhausting his natural ability. Instead of doing anything they expected, Chuuya just stared up at the beauty of the sky up above, imagining that he was somewhere else. Anywhere else, but here. Somewhere happy. Somewhere where he could finally be free and not stuck in this life. This sad, endlessly violent life.

But alas, this life was all that he had.

A life of killing.

He didn't want to die, but he had to and he would make peace with that if it meant that Dazai would see another day. Dazai would do the same for him. He already had, after all, in taking that bullet.

Chuuya needed to buy Dazai some time, if there was any hope of Ango coming, just like Dazai had said. Maybe this wouldn't even result in his death either. Maybe he would be saved too. Except such a wish was incredibly far-fetched given the circumstances. So, he let it go as soon as the thought entered his mind.

The world would be okay without him. After all, at the end of the day, he was just another monster, as would soon become apparent if it wasn't already.

The words of the fateful poem exploded throughout the clearing, as he let go for what he knew could very well be the last time.

"O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again…"