Autumn had finally arrived.

Multicolored leaves glided to the ground, while the wind coaxed its way through the trees up above. It chilled what would otherwise be an unbearably hot day.

The sky up above was black, while a white sun slowly fell over the horizon. Ethereal gray lighting settled over the clearing.

Dazai sat underneath a sturdy maple tree. A red-haired man sat next to him.

"Is it finally over?" Dazai asked, turning towards the man next to him. The mask that he so often wore was gone now, replaced by the look of someone lost and fatigued for a lifetime.

The man next to him was quiet for a long while before he finally spoke.

"I don't know, Dazai. Would you like it to be?"

Did he want it to be over?

At first, Dazai wanted to say yes. In fact, in the past, he probably would have without a second thought. Except, before he could open his mouth to give that answer, something he couldn't quite describe stopped him.

A shiver ran throughout his body.

Something was wrong. He had no qualms with dying and yet, something deep within him felt like doing so now would be wrong. Maybe even a betrayal?

"I thought I did."

The man wrapped an arm around Dazai's shoulders, pulling him closer until Dazai's head was comfortably resting on his own shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, y'know?" The man went on, changing the subject, as the previous one was seemingly forgotten. At least for the moment.

Dazai's brows furrowed.

"Proud? Why?"

"You went to that Detective Agency. You tried to become better," the man paused momentarily, as if deep in thought, "I know you. I know it wasn't easy and that you don't see things in black and white like many of the rest of us do. But whether or not you can see things for what they are in terms of good or evil, I think you are beginning to see what is right. The fact that you're doing something about that makes me proud."

"But what if I'm only doing it, because of what you made me promise?"

"Does it really matter, Dazai?"

And did it? If he was helping people and trying his best to follow the moral route, did it matter if he was doing it of his own conscious choice or a promise he'd made long ago?

Was there even a concrete answer to such a question?

A comfortable silence fell between the two until finally, Dazai broke it.

"Odasaku," he asked, his voice suddenly uncharacteristically small and broken-sounding, "is any of this real?"

"Maybe," Odasaku offered, "or maybe not. Perhaps this is the border to the afterlife or simply your brain trying to make sense of what could be its final moments. But again, Dazai, does it really matter?"

"I wish I could just stay here with you."

Odasaku sighed.

"We both know that's not possible."

It was true. Dazai knew that this would not last because he still had something to do. Yet, exactly what it was still, irritatingly enough, escaped his mind.

"Why can't I remember why I need to go back? I never forget things! Why can't I remember, Odasaku?"

"Again, only you can answer that question, Dazai."

As Dazai stressed over his fragmented mind, Odasaku reached down, picking up a scarlet leaf and twirling the stem in his fingertips.

"I finally finished that novel I told you about. When it's your time, maybe you could read it and give me your thoughts, but that won't be for a while now. Please, take care of yourself. There are lots of people who care about you, even if you don't care about yourself. You always were like a son to me, Dazai. So remember, I'll always be proud of you."

If Dazai's eyes glistened in the fading light, neither of them said anything.

Perhaps though, neither of them had to.

The scarlet leaf fluttered out of Odasaku's fingertips with the prompting of another gust of wind, sending it into Dazai's hands.

The moment the leaf touched him, the world lit up in an inferno of red and he suddenly remembered why he had to go back.

"Chuuya."

The inferno did not end in his dreams.

Dazai opened his eyes to a stabbing pain in his gut and a world brought to hell. Scarlet stained the grass covered the expanse before him. The dreary sky was covered in smoke and fire raged throughout the trees beyond the clearing.

He was laying against the front of the prison, one of its cold walls chilling his back. Somehow between the time that he'd been shot and now, Chuuya must've managed to get them out.

His heart beat irregularly in his chest.

Good, he noted, monitoring the methodically spaced out beats, he must've started such a message subconsciously. Now if Ango could just listen to what he was transmitting and get here in time, they might be able to put an end to this nightmare.

Regret filled him that he hadn't just asked him for direct assistance earlier.

Still, he didn't entirely fault himself for his lack of foresight. Seeing Ango was like a slap to the face. Every time he saw him, he was reminded of his betrayal and the part that he'd played in Odasaku's death. So to say the least, he liked to keep their interactions to a bare minimum, whenever possible.

If only he had just let that grudge go earlier.

Now both he and Chuuya would pay for his idiocy.

Actually... where was Chuuya? Shouldn't he be here with him?

Cackling in the distance suddenly made him come to his senses and he cursed himself for not realizing it sooner.

Corruption.

He needed to move fast.

Biting back the pain, Dazai tried to force himself to stand but was unable to as a slick substance beneath him caused him to fall right back down. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, again forcing back the pain, before trying to figure out what it was that he had slipped on so that it wouldn't happen again.

However, upon inspecting the ground beneath him, he was quick to discover that he was bleeding out way faster than he'd thought. That he had slipped in his own blood.

It was almost ironic that he was standing in the way of himself.

Still, he refused to let that one failed attempt stop him. Giving it one more try, this one thankfully being successful, now that he was aware of what had hindered him the first time, Dazai finally got to his feet and began limping forwards, towards the sound of the broken cackling of Arahabaki.

He pressed a hand tightly to his stomach, as he walked, in a last-ditch attempt to stop the blood loss and maintain coherency for as long as he could.

What he wouldn't do to have his bandages again right now. He almost felt naked without them.

Screams echoed throughout the smokey clearing surrounding him and multiple times, he just barely managed to stop himself from tripping over one of the numerous dead bodies covering the ground.

After a few minutes of searching, Dazai finally found him.

He was fighting an ability user.

At this point, from what Dazai could guess, they were probably one of the only ones remaining.

They seemed to be able to manipulate space, as they glitched throughout the terrain from one spot to another, fruitlessly attempting to make hits, while dodging Chuuya's gravitons. It was a shame, Dazai thought to himself, that the ability user had not trained their ability any stronger than it currently was. If they had, then perhaps they could have just teleported far away from the prison and lived to see another day, but alas their ability did not seem to be quite that powerful. At best, they only seemed to be able to manage to teleport a few meters at a time.

In the long run, they didn't stand a chance.

He was right.

As sick as it probably was, Dazai was mesmerized, as he watched a graviton emerge from Chuuya's palm, this one much bigger than the others.

There was nowhere for the ability user to go.

A scream. A collision. A mangled body.

It was over. Just like that.

If Chuuya were conscious, he would probably find it revolting.

But Dazai? Dazai thought such incredible power was beautiful. It was perhaps one of the few things about Chuuya that he didn't hate.

Another deranged cackle dragged him from his thoughts.

Right. He had to save Chuuya.

As stealthily as he could manage, Dazai managed to get behind him and place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Before him, Chuuya's body trembled slightly as he came back to consciousness. It didn't take long before he slumped to the ground, Dazai falling with him so that they were lying side by side on the ashy ground.

He could only hope Ango made it fast enough.

Chuuya's eyes were already fluttering shut and Dazai noted the copious amounts of blood flowing from his body that couldn't only be from corruption.

He poked his cheek.

"Hey Chuuya, don't fall asleep yet. I don't want to have to die with the likes of you. That'd be gross."

A snort of laughter sounded next to him.

"I'm just closing my eyes, shitty Dazai. I'm not dead yet. Anyways, imagine what it's like for me, having to die with a suicidal maniac like you? I had to deal with your shit for so long and now I've even gotta die with you, like c'mon. I need a fucking break."

A momentary silence settled between the two.

"It wasn't all bad though, was it?" Dazai finally asked, his hand slipping away from his stomach wound to find Chuuya's instead.

He let him.

"I guess not," Chuuya acquiesced, cracking tired eyes open before closing them again, "especially the fact that you haven't noticed it yet."

A burst of broken-sounding laughter came from the depths of Chuuya's chest, provoking a coughing fit that left him looking even closer to death's door than before.

But Dazai didn't focus on that, because Chuuya wasn't dying. He couldn't be dying. After all, Dazai was not going to die with Chuuya. Such a thing was beyond preposterous. In fact, even the thought itself was vile and made him feel nauseous. So, instead of focusing on the color fading from his old partner's face, he elected to just focus on what he'd said.

Dazai's eyes narrowed.

"What exactly do you mean by it?"

Lifting a weak, wavering hand, Chuuya tapped the top of Dazai's head, except his touch was hindered by something. But by what exactly?

Dazai reached a hand up, finding none other than his old partner's hat. Chuuya must've put it on him before succumbing to corruption.

He pouted, "how could you subject me to such poor fashion?"

Yet, for some reason, he didn't take the hat off.

"Just in case I go," was all Chuuya said in response, catching Dazai a bit off-guard, as his breathing began to slow down even more, "I don't want to be forgotten."

"I already told you, you're not going to die and no one could ever forget someone as irritating as you."

"Then let's just say I wanted to subject you to poor fashion, just like you said. I did it before I unleashed corruption. I guess I thought it'd be funny or some shit."

Another bout of silence rang out between the two of them, except this time it was Chuuya who broke it.

"Dazai? You know I always care about you, right? I used corruption to try to save you and I just wanted you to know that before I… before I…"

Another coughing fit wracked his body and Dazai reached out, pulling him closer.

"It's okay. I know, and I…," his eyes shifted to the side momentarily, as though this were uncharted territory in which he desperately didn't want to misstep, "I care about you too."

He waited for a response but was only met with silence.

A stillness filling the clearing.

"Chuuya?"

There was no answer.

A single tear slipped down Dazai's cheek, and his grip tightened, almost desperately, on the redhead next to him.

He closed his eyes, finally succumbing to the beckoning call of the darkness that awaited.

In the distance, the sound of rotor blades cut through the air, as a man with jet black hair and rounded glasses commanded it to the floor of the clearing.