He was just a boy searching for a reason to go through the darkest night. And she was a girl trying to light up other people's lives. Yet, in each other, they found a home to watch the sunrise in the morning sky.
[bungo stray dogs ── dazai osamu]
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THE SOUND OF SHOOTING was still in the air when the bullet ended its trajectory and hit the man's chest. Everything in that room was smelling gunpowder, but now the acid, unpleasant odor of blood was spreading, conquering all.
Dazai was staring at the girl with his gun still wielded; his eyes so dark that they could be compared to the sky on moonless or starless nights, full of an obscured and unknown vastness that would easily engulf anyone who dared to look at him.
A whole world could have ended in those frozen seconds, with time slowly passing by, creating a contrast to (Y/N)'s racing heartbeat. Her mind was still captive from the few seconds that the shot lasted, trying to scream out of that bizarre scene.
Death was not something easy. The world is replete with cruelty with just a thin line to separate who lives or not. In the blink of an eye, a lifetime could end, taken by the hands of another, and, in the end, the price was too high, bringing madness or despair.
With his head hanging back, Taggagi's body remained lifeless in the chair. His lips were curved in a macabre smile, plasticized for eternity now, while the red in his vests decreed his fate.
Even at that moment, (Y/N) could sense his corrupted aura spreading from the memories she saw. There was something symbolic in the way violence would always bring violence, after all, that man in front of her had chosen to harm others; he was the one who decided his fate, finding meaning and pleasure in innocent bloodshed.
But why did she still feel it was wrong?
No one should have the power to decide another's fate, (Y/N) thought.
What she wanted was to bring justice to the world through her voice, and not fight what was wrong with more violence. This would bring an endless, painful cycle, and, in the end, it would be impossible to recognize herself.
The girl could not avoid thinking that the blood she was seeing right now was impregnated in her mind and hands for eternity, not conceding her the right to feel at peace. At least, not anymore.
Slowly, the bandaged boy lowered his arm, his movements reverberating in the large room, breaking that brutal and static silence. He walked cautiously towards her, keeping their eyes locked.
"We have to go now," his voice was small and frigid, a warning hidden inside those few words. She simply focused her eyes on the ground and nodded.
Dazai lowered his head a little, letting his bangs somberly cover his face, hiding himself from her. Then, he spoke again, this time louder for Chuuya to hear.
"Let's go back to the headquarters, we still have to report to the boss."
The redhead boy, who was only observing the scene unfold in front of him, seemed ready to retort. He hated when people — or, more specifically, Dazai — tried to tell him what to do.
