// chaos incarnate // osamu dazai //

Chapter One

"In the end, there was nothing I could do to save you." The brown-haired man said, and there was a tint of sadness in his eyes as he watched the crimson blood seep out around the shorter male, tangling with his scarlet hair. It was a rather beautiful display of art. If he should be grateful for anything, it's how his life ended because it wasn't as horrible as most. It was something that will be treasured forever.

"Don't lie to me. You never wanted to save me." Blood was coughed up, and there was the acceptance of death in his eyes whilst the brunet held a sadistic smile as he watched the final man die. The amount of planning that had gone into this moment was ludacris, but he had always been intent on winning this little game of theirs, no matter what. It was sweet of him to give it his all - in a sadistic kind of way. He wanted to make sure the enemy never had a chance to strike back, and it worked. He was a monster. "You're gonna hate yourself when the adrenaline finally wears away. When you realise the extent of what you've done. You were such a kind man. What happened?"

"I hate to break it to you, but it was all a lie. A well thought out lie to get you all killed. And now look where we are now." Blue eyes met brown, and the sadistic smile turned into a frown as he reconsidered his choices up until now. This wasn't what he was expecting; how it was supposed to go. Something felt off; wrong. "I thought I would enjoy this moment a lot more than I am."

"You thought it might bring some closure?" A heavy breath escaped the smaller male's lips as he tried to readjust himself and at the very least sit up. He knew that if they continued to stare into each other's eyes like they were, it would kill him a thousand times, and yet he would still be standing to die a thousand more. Nobody deserved this; not even the most sadistic men. Or at least, that's what he believed. Torture was a pointless method of prolonging the inevitable. "You're not as evil as people think you are."

"No, I'm so much worse." There was a violent look in his eyes as he glanced at the scene that was around him. So much destruction, so much chaos, and it was all for nothing. The test now made sense. This is all there will ever be. Violence and death and chaos and loneliness. "Now, choose your last words wisely."

He lifted his hat to his head, the black hat now painted with the red of the battlefield. A reminder of all that had been lost. His blue orbs trailed over the man's bandaged body, his bottom lip quivering upon the thought of leaving him behind, before offering a small smile to the broken man. "I love you. Don't you feel the same?"

"No, not now. Not anymore. You're five years too late." Violence had turned to sadness as he turned away, gun drawn and it took a few seconds before he shot at the man. Those seconds were filled with agonising silence, and he hated every moment because he now knew the horror of what his life was going to entail. The loneliness, the pain, the sorrow. "I'm so sorry... I really thought that I could fall in love with you again."

He stood there for a moment before lowering the gun, his hand shaking. He wasn't the same sadistic monster he thought he was. He was just a human. A very hurt human. Someone who had become desensitised from the pains of this world. And he was suddenly gravely aware of that in the most painful way possible. Everything had now been lost; all he ever had, all he had ever learned to love. It was heart-wrenching. His little tainted heart had been overcome with such sorrow it was almost unbearable; almost worth dying for. He was no longer human. He didn't deserve this life he had been given.

"My, my. What a massacre. Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you. I thought you'd buckle under the pressure." A raven-haired man appeared from the shadows, his eyes skimming over the battlefield before landing on the only one left standing, not a single mark on him, his eyes dead and devoid of any emotion. He was back to square one. What was the meaning of this futile life? He had momentarily found a reason to live. But now that's gone, and he was left with this bitter taste in his mouth. That's all he had to show for his efforts. That, and the monster that was his guilt. "Here. Your prize, as promised."

The man extends his palm, a needle full of some sort of clear substance. The brunet took the needle and rolled it around in his hand, his eyes holding a curiosity yet still being surprisingly cautious for someone who had sacrificed so much to get it. "Is that all? Any special instructions?"

The man chuckled at his scepticism. Merely thirty minutes ago this man would have stabbed that into his arm and injected the entire thing without any hesitation or concern. He was a maniac amongst maniacs. Although, it worked for him. But death changes people. Whether that be for the better or the worse is down to the person, and was a matter of opinion at times. But that look in his eyes was something that was to be feared. This man had been through hell once and came out an angel. The second time wasn't as kind. "No, you just need to inject it into your bloodstream. It will take 3 minutes before it comes into effect, so don't be reckless beforehand. You will still feel pain down to every last excruciating speck, just so you're aware."

"I'm fully aware of how it works, I've done this before, albeit not by choice. That prototype you had worked wonders." They narrowed their eyes at each other, and neither spoke for thirty seconds, almost as if they were wary of another. Almost as if they knew it would come to something like this. Almost as if the challenge wasn't worth it. Almost as if they thought they'd go after each other in the end. "What happens if I get more of this and inject it all at once?"

"It depends on the amount. If you get as much as what you have in your hand, it will be a relatively quick but painful death." The man said, letting his eyes wander over the younger male, his eyes drawn to the bandages wrapped around his body. No one had ever seen him without them, and they all wondered the same thing - what was he hiding beneath them? No one knew much about his past, so not many deductions could be made. All they knew was that he was an orphan boy who had always had a thing about death, so only two conclusions could be drawn up. He was hated by those around him, or he was hated by himself, and it led to physical harm. "But I'm sure you'll be used to the pain by now. Nothing that you don't already know."

"How quick is relatively quick?" The cogs in his head were turning. It wasn't exactly like he wanted to die, he just wanted to know that he had an escape. Something to remind him he was still a man; human. And not just this monster he had convinced himself he was. But maybe that's why this was the test. So you would lose almost all of your humanity, and you would have no chance to turn back - no desire to - because you knew it was already too late for yourself. What sense of humanity did you have left to preserve after such a brutal display of desire and bloodlust? "It better be under seven minutes."

"About five minutes, give or take." There was a thoughtful look in his eyes as he smiled at the seemingly young man. He looked like he was fifteen when in actuality he was already over fifty. And he still had about one hundred and sixty years left on the prototype, give or take. "And before you consider even using it as a suicide attempt, the only way it can be used as that is if the second injection is done within the first three minutes. By then, your cells have already developed. By then, you're already immune. By then, you're no longer human. Keep that in mind, Dazai, and don't try anything stupid. Chuuya would want you to live. That's why he held back."