What I never told you (ReaderxDazai)

JUU NI

A silence was enough

For me to realize

I simply wasn't tough

Now, I'm sinking in this lie

Hoping to stop my cry

Your POV

Darkness.

Having tuned off the lights when Chuuya left has made all colors fade away, tainting everything in pitch black. Including my own mind.

I cannot sleep. Not because of the pain of a sore body, but the doubt and morals I have had until now. It's true, I remembered how Dazai and I met. And I've cursed myself for being so blind this whole time.

Indeed, the Port Mafia is able to control minor organizations that might want to cause the demise of the city. Our role is important, we restore the balance of the nighttime. Even if we don't use the right methods, we keep the balance between good and evil in Yokohama. But then again, what about us? All the members without exception are human.

We kill. But we get killed, too.

We fight. But we are not undefeatable.

A lot of us die. Some manage to survive. But only a few can actually have the right to say they are living.

Mori-san is not a bad leader, but one too cold, too far from the reality. We are not human lives to his eyes, only weapons he can use when he needs them. Tools that he can treat however he pleases, that he can replace by new ones, that he can polish and make them even more useful with a bit of time.

I am a tool. The same way Chuuya is. The problem is that, like any carpenter, he has tools that are more useful than others. Ones that rule over the rest. And ones that he needs every once in a while.

"He seriously hit him, huh?" I say out loud as I remember my tough start at the Port Mafia. When I was seen as a burden rather than a trump card, recalling boss' evil and despicable personality, and wondering if there was actually a way to change that. To find a future in which we members didn't have to go through hell and obey like lifeless puppets. And where Yokohama was still safe from external or internal hazards.

And then, it hits me.

Dazai.

He managed to escape. He was able to fool Mori. And he could help me find a way to stop the agony of people like Chuuya.

I abruptly incorporate from bed, sweating and, turning on the lights, I rapidly pick up some clean warm clothes and put them on. I grab my phone, my keys and a pocket knife, rushing to the entrance of the apartment. On the spur of the moment, I also remember I have Dazai's coat hanging in the bathroom and, in a blink of an eye, I get hold of it and wrap it around my shoulders before stepping outside.

The snow is still covering the whole place, and I'm aware it will be hard for me to get anywhere, but something in my gut tells me I need to go now and search for him. Find him.

He can help me. Give me some advice. I might not be strong enough to face Mori or defy him, but if there's a chance of creating a better organization, I will take it along with the risk.

In no time, I begin walking on top of the snow, which has already started freezing, and go as fast as I can towards the Red Brick Warehouse.

That's one of the places we've seen each other, I tell to myself as I make my way through the city, There might be some clue on how to spot him, even if the Mafia has already disposed of the corpses.

The stroll is a long one and, by the time I arrive, there's no trace of the battle that had occurred. Not a single broken glass. Not a splatter of blood. Not an empty shell of a body.