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Point of No Return (Raised Together AU)

Dazai Osamu is twelve years old when he commits his first real crime.

In the future, he will rarely remember crimes of this magnitude, regardless of how bloody or brutal they will end up being- In the end, they all blur together, and when asked, he’d say he couldn’t care more about one or the other. Which man died screaming over what isn’t something that affects him.

(In the far future, he will rarely remember crimes of this magnitude, though not for lack of trying, and not for lack of regret.)

But this crime- His first crime- Will always, always stick with him.

(This crime, even in the far future, is one he feels no true regret over.)

He remembers that it began with blood.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Nakajima Atsushi has been gone for twenty-two hours, thirty-four minutes, and seventeen seconds by the time Dazai decides that he needs to figure out where the Headmaster has taken his closest- And only, if he’s being honest- Friend.

(Yes, he had been keeping track of the time.

Yes, he has not learned That Man’s name. He refuses to.)

It was, admittedly, a very risky decision on his part- After all, if he was caught after hours, looking for the Headmaster’s favorite unfavorite child, it wouldn’t be him that would get punished. He learned, after the first few times he tried to intervene, about how That Man seemed to enjoy punishing Atsushi for “corrupting” the other children.

(He remembers when he realized. The stench of burnt flesh still feels like it clings to him, and the echos of Atsushi’s screams ring in his ears when he’s alone.

Dazai has found that all he can do for him is be well once they see each other again. Someone needs to clean his wounds.)

Nonetheless, finding Atsushi was a risk he had to take- Punishments normally took half of this time at most, provided it wasn’t a full moon (Look into that, he reminds himself, why then- But no, no, not important-). That it was taking this long over something so stupid was… Concerning.

He slips out of his room.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It doesn’t take Dazai much longer to figure out where That Man has placed Atsushi, though getting there is another matter entirely- The orphanage is a big place, after all, and if he gives away what he’s trying to do, it could make things worse.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to find any keys once he gets there- Dazai has long become used to picking locks, and the ones at the orphanage are hardly new.

The basement door creaks as it swings open, and he holds his breath for what must be a minute while he waits and sees if anyone heard.

Nothing.

He sneaks down the stairs.

(It was what he found at the bottom that broke him.)

xxx——xxx——xxx

The first thing he notices is that Atsushi is curled up in the center of the room, shaking like a leaf and either entirely unaware of his presence or too terrified to care.

The second is the small, dark puddle under Atsushi’s tiny body.

It smells like rusted iron.

He wastes no time at all in going to his side, and the dull noises of his feet hitting the floor don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to worry about their caretakers hearing him down here.

(God knows they’d complain about having to hear the screams.)

“Atsushi,” he does his best to keep too much emotion out of his voice, because that isn’t what he needs, right now. “Atsushi, are you- Can you-“

He chokes back the obvious questions of ‘Are you okay’ or ‘Can you stand’ because the obvious answer is no, but he needs to say something-

“Atsushi, can you see me right now?”

It takes a frightening few moments for the silver haired boy to even register his words, and another few moments for him to respond, but when the glaze recedes from his eyes, just a bit, and he nods, Dazai sighs in relief.

“Good. That’s- That’s good,” he swallowed. “Can you- Talk?”

Another pause, and Atsushi coughs, voice weak, but-

“Ye-es. Yes, I can- I can talk, Osamu-san.”

He sounds like he’s been screaming.

“Sorry for taking so… So long-“

“It’s fine, it isn’t your fault, don’t apologize- Here, I’ll help you up-“

Atsushi freezes, grip going tight, and his mouth opens to respond, but Dazai is already lifting him up, and-

There’s a pained, hazy whine, and Dazai freezes. Looks down.

Ah.

Why didn’t I look more closely?

Dazai has found the source of the blood, it seems- It seeps from a clearly painful wound on Atsushi’s foot, reopened from its attempts to close thanks to Dazai’s efforts.

Not that it could close.

It’s been nailed to the ground, after all. And the nail hasn’t been removed.

He stares, eyes blank. Tremors run up and down Atsushi’s body, and he realizes, belatedly, that he’s still holding him.

Very, very gently, he sets him down, doing his best to be mindful of his foot.

He stares again.

They’d nailed his foot his-

They’d shoved and nail to it and just-

They’d-

Dazai thinks, somewhat morbidly, that the nail makes Atsushi’s foot look even smaller than it is.

It probably went through bone.

It must’ve hurt so much.

There’s so much blood-

He blinks, feeling sluggish and hazy. Atsushi. Right. He needs to- He needs to make sure he’s okay. He needs to get the nail out.

There’s a hammer, not too far away. Just out of Atsushi’s reach, actually.

Dazai picks it up, noting, distantly, that there’s blood on the head.

He thinks he knows what this was for.

Luckily, the hammer can be used to remove the nails. Dazai doesn’t know if he could do it with his fingers.

“I’m going-“ his voice sounds hoarse. He clears his throat. “I’m going to try to… Remove the nail. Okay, Atsushi?”

He gets a blank stare in response.

“Atsushi?”

The boy jumps this time, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He nods, though, hands shaking.

It’s silent, and Dazai doesn’t know why he can’t move his body.

“They. He. He tried to make me- To make me h-hammer it in myse-“ Atsushi chokes on his own words, shaky violently, now. “I c-couldn’t- The hammer- I-“

“It’s okay.”

Dazai’s own voice sounds hollow, to his ears. Atsushi looks up at him, tears trailing down his face, eyes wide.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

He kneels down, movements careful, and slots the hammer over the nail, doing his best to ignore how firmly it settles against Atsushi’s skin.

That Man really drove it in-

Hands tighten on his shoulders, and before he can think too deeply about anything, he pulls the hammer up and away from Atsushi’s foot.

Then he throws it, as hard as he can, to the other side if the basement.

Dazai doesn’t remember being this angry before.

“It’s okay,” he says again, voice dull. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay-“

Atsushi cries.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Atsushi liked to tell him about the books he read, in the quiet of the library, as he hid from the other children, or even the adults. He talked about fantasies of children escaping their tormentors, of candy houses in the woods, about true love born and raised at midnight.

(“Osamu-san,” he’d wondered aloud one night, rain pounding at their thin walls as the cold seeped into their bones, “Osamu-san, wouldn’t it be nice if that was us?”

It’s a foolish notion, Dazai knows it is, but he’s never been one to keep Atsushi from the things that keep him alive and close by, selfish as that may be.

“It would be, he’d replied, “Maybe it could be, one day.”

Atsushi had giggled, then, the sound muffled by his hands and the cold and the pain weeping through their bodies like mud.

It was a nice sound.)

He talked, sometimes, about the characters being mad. He’d mentioned that sometimes, they were so mad they saw red, so angry that they couldn’t control themselves.

So furious they couldn’t think straight.

Dazai is not seeing red. He is perfectly in control, and he is, most definitely, thinking straight.

He considers, for a moment, if this makes him a monster, for what he’s about to do next.

No, he thinks. No.

It doesn’t.

Because a monster is shaped like a grown man with an awful haircut who takes and takes and hurts and hurts, who targets the only goddamn person in the world that Dazai cares about.

A monster uses a god-shaped hole to justify his actions.

And a monster is going to be dead by day’s end, because Dazai is going to kill it.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It isn’t as easy as simply up and leaving Atsushi to do the deed, however- His friend is in no condition to stay with him while he does what he has to do.

Even now, Dazai can see the small tremors running up and down his body, and choked, raspy wheezes pull their way from his throat. The aftershocks of his crying fit, no doubt.

He purses his lips, tucking the smaller boy under his chin as he thought.

Perhaps… He could leave him down here? Not permanently, of course- They’d need to escape- But sound didn’t travel well between the basement and the main house, so he wouldn’t have to hear anything.

The key would be making sure he didn’t have to look at the source of his trauma when he was alone.

Dazai hummed under his breath, eyes mapping out what he could see in the darkness- There was a cage, at the far back, but there were manacles there, and he doesn’t fancy having Atsushi wait for him inside of iron bars, so that’s a no. The corner to the left of the cage is also out, because that’s where he’d thrown the hammer and nail. Definitely not the center of the room, because there was still a blood puddle there…

His eyes fell on the right corner, right behind the rickety stairs that led into the basement.

It was dark, so he doesn’t think Atsushi would be forced to see the rest of the area, even if he turned around. It’s positioning meant that it would hide him from any adults who came down the stairs to investigate, though Dazai hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Definitely not perfect, but it would have to do.

“Atsushi,” he murmured. His voice was still dull, and he winced. “Atsushi, I’m going to move us, alright?”

There wasn’t a verbal response, but he felt the boy nod his head as much as he could, with it still tucked under Dazai’s chin. He took that for consent and, after a moment to brace them both, he lifted him halfway off the ground, keeping a careful arm around his waist so he didn’t fall.

(As much as Dazai would love to simply carry him, the orphanage hardly feeds them enough for him to be able to. He’d just exhaust himself, and he couldn’t be tired.

Not now.)

Once they’d moved, Dazai took great care in positioning Atsushi so that his back was to the center of the room. He went to pull away, then, but the panicked whine he got in response made him hesitate.

“Don’t leave. Please, please don’t leave me alone Osamu-“

“I’m not going to,” he pressed his face against Atsushi’s hair, sighing. “Atsushi, there’s. There’s something I have to do, okay? I won’t be gone long, I promise. Just stay here and I’ll be back soon.”

Atsushi’s hands don’t loosen their grip on his arms, but Dazai can’t bring himself to care.

Eventually, still shaking, they let go.

“Promise?”

Dazai smiles, then.

“Always.”

It was not a nice smile.

xxx——xxx——xxx

After convincing Atsushi that he isn’t leaving permanently, Dazai makes his way up the stairs- He’d considered, just for a moment, taking the hammer with him, but he doesn’t want to risk drawing Atsushi’s attention to it, again.

Best to leave it where it lay- Not like he wanted to touch it, again.

Unfortunately, this did mean he had to think of a new way to get rid of the Headmaster- Finding another hammer would take too long, after all, and now that he thought about it, there was too much risk that it’d make noise.

A knife, then? He knew the way to the kitchens, and while it might be messy, he doesn’t think you can mess up slitting someone’s throat.

Even if you are eleven and horribly malnourished.

Luckily for Dazai, the kitchen happens to be close by- Really, it’s just a matter of avoiding the floorboards that creak and being very, very quiet when he opens the drawers to look for the right thing.

Definitely not a butter knife, he thinks to himself. A cleaver is too big, though- Could i use it efficiently? And a steak knife might be too small…

His eyes fall on one of the larger knives in the set. A kitchen knife, was it? Seems light enough… Seems large enough, too. He picks it up for a moment, testing the weight, swinging it once or twice- Atsushi mentioned characters in his books doing that once, he thinks, and it’s something to do, if nothing else- And he thinks on what he’s about to do.

If this works- If Dazai really walks out of this room, knife in hand- A man will be dead by daybreak.

His hands will be bloody. It isn’t a decision he can take back, once he makes it.

Is he really going to do this? Can he do it? Does he want to-

(He thinks of Atsushi, curled up and shaking in the center of a room, tiny foot nailed to the ground-

He thinks of a piercing, painful hunger, of seeing Atsushi’s arms bloodied from how hungry the boy was-

He thinks of cold, of midnights full of pain, spent curled up in the corner of his shared room with Atsushi, thin arms wrapped around each other, murmured stories spilling from the silver haired boy’s lips-

He thinks-

“Osamu-san, wouldn’t it be nice if that was us?”

“It would be. Maybe it could be, one day.”

He thinks-

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He thinks, he thinks, he thinks-)

xxx——xxx——xxx

Dazai stares up at a wooden door- The stuff of nightmares, for kids like him, for kids like Atsushi. The home of their monster under the bed.

He opens the door, careful to keep it quiet.

Nothing moves in the darkness. He steps inside, closing it with a quiet click.

He wants to do this. He has to do this. They’ll both die here if he doesn’t.

He won’t regret it.

He can’t.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It’s warm, is Dazai’s first thought.

He stares at the body on the bed, blood slowly but surely seeping into the fabric of the sheets- Probably staining it, too, now that he thinks about it.

Good, he thinks, spiteful. That Man didn’t deserve clean place to die. Really, he deserved worse than a simple stabbing, too, but Dazai was short on time, and it was dark, and if the Headmaster has woken up and alerted someone-

He shakes the thought off, the action reminding him of the blood caking on his clothes and his skin. He made a face at the feeling.

And now it’s sticky. How fun.

Unfortunately, he and Atsushi need to leave- After all, he has no doubt that the other orphanage workers would claim it was Atsushi or himself who had done it, and he sees no reason to believe that whoever came to investigate would doubt them.

(He’d considered, briefly, killing the other workers to give them more time- They were just as much monsters as That Man was, after all… But no. Leaving was more important.)

He hopes Atsushi hasn’t been too upset while he was gone.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Getting back to Atsushi turns out to be the easy part- He opens the door with ease, still making as little noise as possible, but steps down the stairs leading to the basement loudly enough to alert Atsushi that someone is coming.

It’s getting out that’s the problem.

Because as it turns out, stepping foot out of the only place you’ve ever known, no matter how awful it was to you, is terrifying for both of them.

Dazai stares up at the gates before them.

Of course this is where he freezes. In front of gates. Not even when he’s killing someone. Of fucking course-

Atsushi’s hand tightens around his own, and he realizes, belatedly, that they’ve been clinging to each other since he got Atsushi out of the basement.

He tightens his own hand in response.

“Dazai-san,” the silver haired boy stops, face hesitant and voice hoarse. “Dazai-san, we… Need to go. Right? You’ll get in trouble for- For helping me if we don’t.”

Atsushi looks up at him, eyes still somewhat distant, but.

But it was better than it was.

Remember why you’re doing this.

It isn’t as if Atsushi doesn’t understand the situation- His friend is hardly stupid, and he knows what the blood that covered him means- So instead of arguing, he begins scaling the gates.

Opening them would make too much noise, right now.

Dazai refuses to ruin this. Not when they’ve come this far.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It had taken them a day to get out of the woods that surrounded the living hell that had been their life (they could’ve been quicker, but better safe than sorry- Atsushi is certain he heard people looking for them, after all).

It had taken them a further week of living on the streets, terrified of being found and dragged back, kicking and screaming, to find any hope of salvation.

(“I don’t want to go back, Osamu-san,” Atsushi had sobbed on their second night. “I don’t want to go back, they’ll take you, they’ll hurt you-“

“It’s okay, Atsushi. It’s okay-“

“Don’t go,” Atsushi choked out, shaking. “Don’t go, don’t go, you promised-“

“I did,” he pressed a kiss against Atsushi’s hair, eyes blank. “I won’t leave. I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise-“

The words had continued well into the night,)

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be calling it salvation.

It’s warm.

Dazai stares at the man across from them, eyes dull. Atsushi is buried in his side, half trying to avoid looking at the bloody corpse on the medical table, half unable to look away.

He doesn’t think they’ve been apart for more than a minute since their escape.

Ōgai Mori turns his gaze to them, eyes wide, and there’s a touch of something unhinged there- But Dazai tightens his grip on Atsushi’s hand and remains in place.

They have nowhere else to go, after all.

“Both of you,” the black hair man starts, “are my witnesses… And the only other ones here to witness the last words of the former boss of the Port Mafia. He died of illness, and passed on leadership to his doctor with his dying breath.”

Mori’s grin stretches wider.

“Isn’t that right, Dazai Osamu-kun and Nakajima Atsushi-kun?”

And Dazai thinks of meeting the man, and his words at the time.

(“Twenty-three stab wounds,” he’d murmured, “is not an insignificant crime.”

Dazai knew a threat when he heard one, and the man smirked at his unasked question.

“Join with the Port Mafia, and I can promise protection from the consequences of your actions. You’ll be well suited, I’m certain.”

Dazai… Considers. Slides his gaze down to Atsushi, tucked into his side, eyes wide and the tell tale purple-on-gold of his ability peering at the one who’d invaded their temporary hideaway of an abandoned building.

(And hadn’t that been an event in and of itself- Discovering abilities, discovering that they had them-)

Mori’s smirk stretches wider, and Dazai thinks, absentmindedly, that only monsters how that many teeth.

“And your little friend can even join, too.”)

Dazai is sure that, if not for No Longer Human, it would be claws digging into his side instead of Atsushi’s tight grip.

Neither of them move, though, and all Dazai can do is stare at the man in front of them.

If it was just him, he wouldn’t care. If it was just him, he could deal with it. But it isn’t just him.

(Dazai thinks of bloodied nails and hammer and an aching, desperate need-)

They have nowhere else to go.

Against his side, Atsushi gives a tiny nod.

“Yes, Mori-san.”

xxx——xxx——xxx

Dazai Osamu is twelve years old when he commits his first crime in a fit of desperation.

It won’t be the last.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Point of No Return- (Expression) Phrase denoting when one must continue on with their current path, due to turning back being physically impossible or dangerous in some manner

xxx——xxx——xxx

Author’s Note: Nyanon here again- And here’s what I’ve been working on! Hopefully this lives up to my last little… Drabble? One-shot? Though it’s definitely more violent than the last one… Uh, whoops?

Also, super sorry if this wasn’t word for word on anything that popped up in universe? For example, I couldn’t completely remember Mori’s little speech to Dazai… Hope that’s alright!

#bsd #bsd fic #dazatsu fic #dazutshi fic #dazushi fic #dazai x atsushi #dazatsu #dazutshi #dazushi #anon #nyanon #nyanon fic #I LOVE THIS SO MUCH WHAT THE FUCKKK #atsushi nakajima #dazai osamu #submission

Point of No Return (Raised Together AU)

Dazai Osamu is twelve years old when he commits his first real crime.

(In the far future, he will rarely remember crimes of this magnitude, though not for lack of trying, and not for lack of regret.)

But this crime- His first crime- Will always, always stick with him.

(This crime, even in the far future, is one he feels no true regret over.)

He remembers that it began with blood.

xxx——xxx——xxx

(Yes, he had been keeping track of the time.

Yes, he has not learned That Man’s name. He refuses to.)

(He remembers when he realized. The stench of burnt flesh still feels like it clings to him, and the echos of Atsushi’s screams ring in his ears when he’s alone.

Dazai has found that all he can do for him is be well once they see each other again. Someone needs to clean his wounds.)

He slips out of his room.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Luckily, he doesn’t have to find any keys once he gets there- Dazai has long become used to picking locks, and the ones at the orphanage are hardly new.

The basement door creaks as it swings open, and he holds his breath for what must be a minute while he waits and sees if anyone heard.

Nothing.

He sneaks down the stairs.

(It was what he found at the bottom that broke him.)

xxx——xxx——xxx

The first thing he notices is that Atsushi is curled up in the center of the room, shaking like a leaf and either entirely unaware of his presence or too terrified to care.

The second is the small, dark puddle under Atsushi’s tiny body.

It smells like rusted iron.

He wastes no time at all in going to his side, and the dull noises of his feet hitting the floor don’t bother him. He doesn’t have to worry about their caretakers hearing him down here.

(God knows they’d complain about having to hear the screams.)

“Atsushi,” he does his best to keep too much emotion out of his voice, because that isn’t what he needs, right now. “Atsushi, are you- Can you-“

He chokes back the obvious questions of ‘Are you okay’ or ‘Can you stand’ because the obvious answer is no, but he needs to say something-

“Atsushi, can you see me right now?”

“Good. That’s- That’s good,” he swallowed. “Can you- Talk?”

Another pause, and Atsushi coughs, voice weak, but-

“Ye-es. Yes, I can- I can talk, Osamu-san.”

He sounds like he’s been screaming.

“Sorry for taking so… So long-“

“It’s fine, it isn’t your fault, don’t apologize- Here, I’ll help you up-“

Atsushi freezes, grip going tight, and his mouth opens to respond, but Dazai is already lifting him up, and-

There’s a pained, hazy whine, and Dazai freezes. Looks down.

Ah.

Why didn’t I look more closely?

Dazai has found the source of the blood, it seems- It seeps from a clearly painful wound on Atsushi’s foot, reopened from its attempts to close thanks to Dazai’s efforts.

Not that it could close.

It’s been nailed to the ground, after all. And the nail hasn’t been removed.

He stares, eyes blank. Tremors run up and down Atsushi’s body, and he realizes, belatedly, that he’s still holding him.

Very, very gently, he sets him down, doing his best to be mindful of his foot.

He stares again.

They’d nailed his foot his-

They’d shoved and nail to it and just-

They’d-

Dazai thinks, somewhat morbidly, that the nail makes Atsushi’s foot look even smaller than it is.

It probably went through bone.

It must’ve hurt so much.

There’s so much blood-

He blinks, feeling sluggish and hazy. Atsushi. Right. He needs to- He needs to make sure he’s okay. He needs to get the nail out.

There’s a hammer, not too far away. Just out of Atsushi’s reach, actually.

Dazai picks it up, noting, distantly, that there’s blood on the head.

He thinks he knows what this was for.

Luckily, the hammer can be used to remove the nails. Dazai doesn’t know if he could do it with his fingers.

“I’m going-“ his voice sounds hoarse. He clears his throat. “I’m going to try to… Remove the nail. Okay, Atsushi?”

He gets a blank stare in response.

“Atsushi?”

The boy jumps this time, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He nods, though, hands shaking.

It’s silent, and Dazai doesn’t know why he can’t move his body.

“They. He. He tried to make me- To make me h-hammer it in myse-“ Atsushi chokes on his own words, shaky violently, now. “I c-couldn’t- The hammer- I-“

“It’s okay.”

Dazai’s own voice sounds hollow, to his ears. Atsushi looks up at him, tears trailing down his face, eyes wide.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

He kneels down, movements careful, and slots the hammer over the nail, doing his best to ignore how firmly it settles against Atsushi’s skin.

That Man really drove it in-

Hands tighten on his shoulders, and before he can think too deeply about anything, he pulls the hammer up and away from Atsushi’s foot.

Then he throws it, as hard as he can, to the other side if the basement.

Dazai doesn’t remember being this angry before.

“It’s okay,” he says again, voice dull. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay-“

Atsushi cries.

xxx——xxx——xxx

(“Osamu-san,” he’d wondered aloud one night, rain pounding at their thin walls as the cold seeped into their bones, “Osamu-san, wouldn’t it be nice if that was us?”

It’s a foolish notion, Dazai knows it is, but he’s never been one to keep Atsushi from the things that keep him alive and close by, selfish as that may be.

“It would be, he’d replied, “Maybe it could be, one day.”

Atsushi had giggled, then, the sound muffled by his hands and the cold and the pain weeping through their bodies like mud.

It was a nice sound.)

He talked, sometimes, about the characters being mad. He’d mentioned that sometimes, they were so mad they saw red, so angry that they couldn’t control themselves.

So furious they couldn’t think straight.

Dazai is not seeing red. He is perfectly in control, and he is, most definitely, thinking straight.

He considers, for a moment, if this makes him a monster, for what he’s about to do next.

No, he thinks. No.

It doesn’t.

Because a monster is shaped like a grown man with an awful haircut who takes and takes and hurts and hurts, who targets the only goddamn person in the world that Dazai cares about.

A monster uses a god-shaped hole to justify his actions.

And a monster is going to be dead by day’s end, because Dazai is going to kill it.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It isn’t as easy as simply up and leaving Atsushi to do the deed, however- His friend is in no condition to stay with him while he does what he has to do.

Even now, Dazai can see the small tremors running up and down his body, and choked, raspy wheezes pull their way from his throat. The aftershocks of his crying fit, no doubt.

He purses his lips, tucking the smaller boy under his chin as he thought.

The key would be making sure he didn’t have to look at the source of his trauma when he was alone.

His eyes fell on the right corner, right behind the rickety stairs that led into the basement.

Definitely not perfect, but it would have to do.

“Atsushi,” he murmured. His voice was still dull, and he winced. “Atsushi, I’m going to move us, alright?”

(As much as Dazai would love to simply carry him, the orphanage hardly feeds them enough for him to be able to. He’d just exhaust himself, and he couldn’t be tired.

Not now.)

“Don’t leave. Please, please don’t leave me alone Osamu-“

Atsushi’s hands don’t loosen their grip on his arms, but Dazai can’t bring himself to care.

Eventually, still shaking, they let go.

“Promise?”

Dazai smiles, then.

“Always.”

It was not a nice smile.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Best to leave it where it lay- Not like he wanted to touch it, again.

A knife, then? He knew the way to the kitchens, and while it might be messy, he doesn’t think you can mess up slitting someone’s throat.

Even if you are eleven and horribly malnourished.

Definitely not a butter knife, he thinks to himself. A cleaver is too big, though- Could i use it efficiently? And a steak knife might be too small…

If this works- If Dazai really walks out of this room, knife in hand- A man will be dead by daybreak.

His hands will be bloody. It isn’t a decision he can take back, once he makes it.

Is he really going to do this? Can he do it? Does he want to-

(He thinks of Atsushi, curled up and shaking in the center of a room, tiny foot nailed to the ground-

He thinks of a piercing, painful hunger, of seeing Atsushi’s arms bloodied from how hungry the boy was-

He thinks-

“Osamu-san, wouldn’t it be nice if that was us?”

“It would be. Maybe it could be, one day.”

He thinks-

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He thinks, he thinks, he thinks-)

xxx——xxx——xxx

Dazai stares up at a wooden door- The stuff of nightmares, for kids like him, for kids like Atsushi. The home of their monster under the bed.

He opens the door, careful to keep it quiet.

Nothing moves in the darkness. He steps inside, closing it with a quiet click.

He wants to do this. He has to do this. They’ll both die here if he doesn’t.

He won’t regret it.

He can’t.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It’s warm, is Dazai’s first thought.

He stares at the body on the bed, blood slowly but surely seeping into the fabric of the sheets- Probably staining it, too, now that he thinks about it.

He shakes the thought off, the action reminding him of the blood caking on his clothes and his skin. He made a face at the feeling.

And now it’s sticky. How fun.

(He’d considered, briefly, killing the other workers to give them more time- They were just as much monsters as That Man was, after all… But no. Leaving was more important.)

He hopes Atsushi hasn’t been too upset while he was gone.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It’s getting out that’s the problem.

Because as it turns out, stepping foot out of the only place you’ve ever known, no matter how awful it was to you, is terrifying for both of them.

Dazai stares up at the gates before them.

Of course this is where he freezes. In front of gates. Not even when he’s killing someone. Of fucking course-

Atsushi’s hand tightens around his own, and he realizes, belatedly, that they’ve been clinging to each other since he got Atsushi out of the basement.

He tightens his own hand in response.

“Dazai-san,” the silver haired boy stops, face hesitant and voice hoarse. “Dazai-san, we… Need to go. Right? You’ll get in trouble for- For helping me if we don’t.”

Atsushi looks up at him, eyes still somewhat distant, but.

But it was better than it was.

Remember why you’re doing this.

It isn’t as if Atsushi doesn’t understand the situation- His friend is hardly stupid, and he knows what the blood that covered him means- So instead of arguing, he begins scaling the gates.

Opening them would make too much noise, right now.

Dazai refuses to ruin this. Not when they’ve come this far.

xxx——xxx——xxx

It had taken them a further week of living on the streets, terrified of being found and dragged back, kicking and screaming, to find any hope of salvation.

(“I don’t want to go back, Osamu-san,” Atsushi had sobbed on their second night. “I don’t want to go back, they’ll take you, they’ll hurt you-“

“It’s okay, Atsushi. It’s okay-“

“Don’t go,” Atsushi choked out, shaking. “Don’t go, don’t go, you promised-“

“I did,” he pressed a kiss against Atsushi’s hair, eyes blank. “I won’t leave. I promise. I promise, I promise, I promise-“

The words had continued well into the night,)

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be calling it salvation.

It’s warm.

Dazai stares at the man across from them, eyes dull. Atsushi is buried in his side, half trying to avoid looking at the bloody corpse on the medical table, half unable to look away.

He doesn’t think they’ve been apart for more than a minute since their escape.

Ōgai Mori turns his gaze to them, eyes wide, and there’s a touch of something unhinged there- But Dazai tightens his grip on Atsushi’s hand and remains in place.

They have nowhere else to go, after all.

Mori’s grin stretches wider.

“Isn’t that right, Dazai Osamu-kun and Nakajima Atsushi-kun?”

And Dazai thinks of meeting the man, and his words at the time.

(“Twenty-three stab wounds,” he’d murmured, “is not an insignificant crime.”

Dazai knew a threat when he heard one, and the man smirked at his unasked question.

“Join with the Port Mafia, and I can promise protection from the consequences of your actions. You’ll be well suited, I’m certain.”

(And hadn’t that been an event in and of itself- Discovering abilities, discovering that they had them-)

Mori’s smirk stretches wider, and Dazai thinks, absentmindedly, that only monsters how that many teeth.

“And your little friend can even join, too.”)

Dazai is sure that, if not for No Longer Human, it would be claws digging into his side instead of Atsushi’s tight grip.

Neither of them move, though, and all Dazai can do is stare at the man in front of them.

If it was just him, he wouldn’t care. If it was just him, he could deal with it. But it isn’t just him.

(Dazai thinks of bloodied nails and hammer and an aching, desperate need-)

They have nowhere else to go.

Against his side, Atsushi gives a tiny nod.

“Yes, Mori-san.”

xxx——xxx——xxx

Dazai Osamu is twelve years old when he commits his first crime in a fit of desperation.

It won’t be the last.

xxx——xxx——xxx

Point of No Return- (Expression) Phrase denoting when one must continue on with their current path, due to turning back being physically impossible or dangerous in some manner

xxx——xxx——xxx

Also, super sorry if this wasn’t word for word on anything that popped up in universe? For example, I couldn’t completely remember Mori’s little speech to Dazai… Hope that’s alright!

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