★彡[ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ]彡★

Insufferable Ringing 𝟛/𝟛

Hello! This is a double update, be sure to check out the part before this! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

TW - Light gore.

For a long while, the only sound Chuuya could hear was that of his own footsteps, the only light dull and filtered.

So when he caught a glimpse of something brighter accompanied by a howl of wind, he quickened his pace. He had extended into a run before rounding a corner and skidding to a stop.

He had reached the other end of the warehouse. The boxes here had been roughly shoved to aside, leaving the space open and chilly.

There was a gaping hole in the wall, splinters and metal wire sticking precariously from the ends. Wind gusted through the gap and moonlight poured onto the floor, bathing everything in a silver light.

"What the..." Chuuya said, stepping forward and pausing in front of it. Beyond the warehouse were more trees, some notably fallen over. It took quite some self control not to throw his hat onto the floor and swear profusely.

Looked like their monster had long gone.

He groaned, then cupped his hands, both gloved and ungloved, around his mouth and shouted, "DAZAI, I found something!"

His own voice reverberated around the room. He didn't hear any distant acknowledgment, but he did hear something else, much closer.

A low moan.

Chuuya flinched, looking sharply to the sound.

Strewn out in a patch on moonlight was a figure laying on its side, back turned to him and body completely still. 

Just out of its reach was a partly closed switchblade, twinkling metal coated in blood.

The figure, it was the assailant from earlier. It had to be.

What the hell happened to him?

Chuuya hesitated. He couldn't help but remember the shallowness of Dazai's wound, the purposeless pitifulness of the attack.

The assailant ....what if he had only done what he did because of the ability? What if underneath that was someone completely innocent?

That alone got him moving. Chuuya slowly, cautiously crossed the length of the floor and crouched before the figure. The assailant was completely motionless, it would be all too easy to mistake him for dead...

"Oi," said Chuuya because he sucked at being tactful.

There was no response.

"What's the matter with you?"

Still no response.

Mouth dry, he leaned forward and turned the assailant over.

In the moonlight, Chuuya could see that his amber eyes were wide as saucers, glazed over and teary with the stickiness of someone who was simply too whiplashed to cry.

One hand laid stiffly beside his head, fingers twisted savagely into his temple. They were stained a dried, russet color, thick lumps of gore caught between the nails beds. Bits of flesh and sinew dangled by threads, hair matted with blood and undoubtedly hiding further damage.

It looked almost as if the assailant had tried to claw his own brain out, then changed his mind half way when the pain became too unbearable.

Those tormented eyes slowly twitched to the person hovering above him. At the sight, his bottom lip trembled.

In a thin, almost pleading voice, he whimpered --

"Too...loud...N-nakahara-san..."

There was a sharp, unexpected clearness to the words.