Collection of Oneshot Fanfics

If You Fell to Your Death Today (I Hope Heaven is your Resting Place) Soukoku

Evil expects evil from others.

Eyes turning dark, Dazai stared at his reflection in the mirror. How ironic of him to suddenly remember what he said to Mori as realization hit him: even after trying for years, he still couldn't shake off the evil looming over him.

There was not a single thing inherently good about Dazai. He was soaked in blood; bandage be damned.

'But Odasaku saved you,' said the small voice messing with his head. Oda was the only good thing in Dazai's life; the older man wasn't scared of the bandages wrapped around Dazai's body, even going as far as cleaning off the blood painting it. So when Oda died, Dazai died with him—his bloodthirst and sadism included.

All Dazai ever wanted now was to chase the light.

"Dazai-san, the president said you don't have to go if you don't want to." Atsushi appeared out of nowhere. Or maybe he did not. Perhaps he knocked twice or thrice. Dazai was just too out of it to care.

But he did care. In the past—when he met Bukas, an ability user who could throw him into a parallel universe where he could have everything he desired. Dazai was ecstatic, a feeling he never thought would touch his cold heart.

Dazai was a mastermind, the demon prodigy. Miscalculation was a word that didn't exist in his vocabulary, so Dazai didn't hesitate when Bukas told him that once he rolled the dice, he couldn't go back to his original world anymore and that there wouldn't be another ability user like him to undo his choice.

Who was he to hesitate, anyway? He spent years in agony, thinking of what could have been. He longed to live in a world where his Odasaku was warm and full of life. He had a chance to make it right—to save his best friend and the children, to get to Atsushi earlier so he wouldn't suffer as much as he did. He even broke the shackles he forced on Akutagawa's neck. Dazai's hands weren't as bloody as they used to be.

In this new world, Dazai had no regrets.

Or so he thought.

"Dazai-san?" Atsushi called softly when his mentor didn't respond. Dazai was still hollowly staring at himself in the mirror. "Oda-san will be there in your stead. Maybe you should just stay here. The funeral would take some time. We're worried about you, especially the kids."

Ah. The kids. Dazai fought the urge to snarl, but the voices in his head became louder. 'Fuck the kids,' they seemed to say.

Those little gremlins were the light in Oda's life. It should have been his too, but the only light those kids brought to him was fire—maddening, ragingly hot, and turning to ashes fast—just like what they did to Chuuya.

One second the Chibi's perfectly fine, still in control of his body and power, but then came five children and one Ango Sakaguchi.

Three days ago, in the new world:

Ango had Oda wrapped around his fingers, making Oda believe he was trustworthy—that Ango loved him and the people in his life.

Oda's flawless gave him the advantage of being one step ahead of his enemies, but that's the thing. Oda never thought Ango would betray him, not after he showed him his scars, both inside and out.

"Where is Nakahara?" Ango collapsed beside Oda. The latter's breathing was heavy as he turned to look at the man beside him.

"What?" Confusion morphed into Oda's face; he was still high from the passion and heat he and Ango shared.