The Wild Geese || DAZAI OSAMU/CHUUYA NAKAHARA

[1] DAZAI OSAMU.

"What should I do?" You weep into the phone, feeling your hand shake violently while the other cradles the bomb. Dazai pauses on the other end of the call. You sounded so young, so lost that it dismantles his composure for a second. He pauses in his running to think for a moment.

20 seconds.

"(first name)," He tests out your name in his mouth, turning it over as though it was a round piece of candy. "There are many things you have done in your life that warrants regret and guilt, but there are other ways to redeem yourself. I chose the path to save people, and save people I did, no matter how dubious the method was. You're an example of a human being gone wrong. But that doesn't mean you can't see and feel what we call a collective identity—a society. We run like stray dogs on the streets, testing out emotions and their zeniths and nadirs like a mask. You've tested all of them. Knowing you have, how can you not save others knowing of their despair? You know them more intimately than anyone else on this planet."

10 seconds.

"You're still savable," He says. "And so listen to me. Toss the bomb out the window."

"But—!"

"The agency has already secured the successor. We don't need the distraction anymore," Dazai says. Tears are still running down your cheeks, and your head drops.

"I—!"

"I can save you. Help you," Dazai says, his voice serious and dark. "I like you enough to help you."

3 seconds.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and arch your arm back, and throw the bomb hard enough for it to smash through the glass window. The moment it hits air does it detonate, exploding in a plume of red and black and grey. The sound reverberates through your ears, and you're thrown back against the door at the impact. You stare as the pieces of metal fall to the ground like shrapnel rain, before curling up into a ball.

"We're coming to get you," Dazai says. Behind him was a young boy's voice, alongside Atsushi saying something incoherent amongst all the chaos. "Where are you? What floor?"

"Four."

"Just stay calm," He says. Chuuya has long gone, shouting down at his subordinates who were trying to get to the door, before his voice ultimately fades away. "You're doing alright?"

"I was planning on killing myself, as a noble act," You admit, and the thought brings back a new wave of tears. Your back shudders and your words are weaved intimately with your sobs. Wails that break Dazai's heart. "But I...If I can shed my burdens, I'm just someone who wants to live. I want to live! Take me with you, Dazai!"

Your voice turns hysterical and you drop the phone, cradling your head in your hands. Your fingernails dig into your face and another violent aria of pain escapes your throat, hard enough to cause trembling. You rock yourself back and forth for comfort, the wideness of the room too exposing.

The door smashes open behind you. Off its hinges. You don't notice it in your own sobs, but a hand is placed over your shoulder. The weight and warmth makes you look up, glassy (eye colours) staring up at sepia ones. Dazai's face is warm and welcoming, a gentle smile on his face as he brings you into his arms, gathering you like spurned silk: smooth, with a hint of silkworm cruelty.

"You did good," He says, and your tears sink into his vest. His coat was taken off to hang over your shoulders, the tan material seeping into your skin. "Thank you for choosing the side that saves people."

You sob so hard into him that you visibly shake in his arms, clinging onto him, finally letting your heart loose from its ensnarement. It was rhythmic crying, a measured statement of short urgent pulses. At times you would break off into a whimper, a wild animal complaint, irregular and exhausted, but the rhythm held, the heightened beat, the intense sorrow on your face.