Stray Dog

The Final Showdown

When the Armed Detective Agency decided to make a show of strength, it was rarely-if ever-a small affair. This instance, of course, was no exception. Every member of the Agency was involved in this rescue mission, and not a single one had any intention of backing down. Each knew the stakes involved, each understood that the Port Mafia could anticipate their coming, and each one was fully aware that performing such a mission could place their very life on the line.

Of course, even in light of this, they were not dissuaded; the fact that Dazai's life was already on the line made sure of that.

After Chuuya's information had been given, not a moment was wasted. Minutes after the message had been relayed by a panting Atsushi and a stern Kunikida, Ranpo had formed a flawless strategy, and President Fukuzawa had begun issuing orders. It was only a matter of hours before everyone was prepped and ready for action. With preparations complete, the Agency moved as one. They would bring back Osamu Dazai, no matter who or what stood in their way.

They would rescue their friend, or they would die trying.

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Dazai existed in a daze of blurred consciousness, his mind drifting aimlessly when it was not focused on the pain he was in. When was the last time he had eaten, or drank anything? He tried to remember, but any thoughts that were close to coherent slipped through his grasp, fading back into the vague chaos that was his mind. He was conscious of impressions; the smell of blood, a fainter stench of burnt flesh, the sting of a whip, the pinch of a needle, the sound of screaming... was that him, screaming? It must be... he was alone.

Or... was he?

No, he seemed to remember Oda... yes, Oda had been here.

But Oda was dead.

No, Oda was here. A vengeful spirit, come to take his life, or torture him for eternity. Good. He deserved it, after all. He had failed him; failed him in life, and in death.

After all, Osamu Dazai, the Demon Prodigy, could never be a good man. His very soul was stained Port Mafia black. 

Idly, he mused, there was one thought that did not leave him, a single idea that was not so difficult to hold onto as the others. I want to die. That thought, of course, had always been there, ever since he was a child. After all, what point was there in living? What reason was there? Before there had been Oda, Ango, and maybe Chuuya, but they were gone now, dead or abandoned, and what did he have now? The Agency? He cared for them, in a way, but they didn't know his past; they couldn't. They were good, like he could never be. Like Odasaku was. Surely, they would be better off without him. If they truly knew his history, he doubted that they would have accepted him in the first place. Besides, it wasn't as if he carried any weight or importance in the organization. Idly, he wondered if they'd even noticed he'd been gone. Maybe they had, and were even glad of his absence. A breathless laugh escaped his parched lips at the thought.

"what's that, Dazai? Is something amusing?"

Dazai did not have the strength left to lift his head, so only his eyes moved to focus on Odasaku's blurry face. He squinted, trying to make the image before him clearer, but it was no use. Dehydration, probably, he thought, recalling a distant memory of when Mori had forced him to go without water to test the affects of such a condition. What had he done wrong? he couldn't quite remember, now...

A ringing slap that he heard more than felt brought his attention back to the present. "I asked what was so funny, dog." Snarled Odasaku. To the stray dogs. Dazai thought, That's what I've always been, even back then. A stray dog, with no one to return to. "O-Oda..." Dazai panted, the words an effort as they scraped along his dry throat. His eyes would've teared up from the pain, if he'd had any left. "Pl...ease...Oda...k...kill...me..." His head spun with the effort of speaking, and somewhere in his head, something whispered that even if Oda wouldn't kill him, it didn't matter, because he didn't have much time left anyway. His vision snapped back to Oda's face at the sound of his tormentor's laughter. "Oh, Dazai, when are you going to figure it out? All this time you've asked me to kill you, over and over, when will you quit. your. whining?!" His voice changed to a snarl, and his words were punctuated with blows to Dazai's ribs and back. "Death is to good for you, dog." Another strike to his gut, leaving him even more winded than before. "You deserve to live." A strike to his jaw, which left stars dancing before his eyes. "You deserve to live, so you can suffer. You don't get to die. Not until you've paid your penance." Oda's hands closed around his throat, and Dazai had no strength left to struggle. He sank into the grip, waiting for merciful oblivion to seize him, but it never came. Instead, Odasaku's grip loosened as the sound of an explosion shook the entire building.