ꜰɪɴᴀʟ ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ [Osamu Dazai x Reader]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

"dazai-san." you heard a voice speak. a boy, a bit younger than you, kneeled in front of the person who stood by your side.

a small, frail boy he was. short black hair with frosted tips, and pale skin. he trembled slightly as he kept his head down in front of his mentor. his face was stuck in a permanent frown.

how did you even get into the port mafia? no matter how hard you tried to rack your memories for answers, you kept drawing blanks.

you hadn't noticed what was going on in your surroundings until you tuned back in, and saw dazai kicking his apprentice down.

dazai. osamu dazai. a misnomer, his name was. such a pretty and proper name for such a terrible person. you were saved by the devil, you told yourself. but did that make you a sinner?

it didn't matter. you watched as dazai beat the boy, a dark expression on his half-bandaged face. for once in your life, you felt pity.

you felt pity when you were forced to shoot a family of four. you felt pity when you heard news of other mafia member's deaths. you felt pity when you watched gullible patients of that dreadful man follow him into his office.

he claimed he was a doctor. you didn't believe him. how could a doctor simultaneously run a criminal organization as big as this? a busy man, he must be.

you disliked the feeling of pity. it made your gut twist and turn, especially when the misfortunes to others were caused by you. pity mixed with guilt is a terrible thing.

you liked chuuya. chuuya nakahara was his full name, you had learned from spending time with dazai. all dazai seemed to talk about was chuuya. otherwise, he was silent.

chuuya was mean to dazai, but nice to you. he treated you like a human, a human being, as if you hadn't been forced to kill multiple people. 

the label 'human' seemed a little far-fetched. being human was a concept foreign to you. what makes a human being? you had asked multiple people, and you received different answers every time.

"emotions make you human."

"a body makes you human."

"love makes you human."

you only had one of the three. you felt more pity. but for once in your life, it wasn't pity for others. 

you pitied yourself. if you weren't human, what were you? you told dazai about these feelings once. he claimed, a bit more cheerfully than you would have liked, that you were alike in that sense.

a human that has lost its label. that's what the two of you were.

you stayed close to dazai any chance you got, under the permission of the dreadful man. the shipping container was cold. but not as cold as you felt when you were alone, so anything was better.

chuuya hung around more often when you started floating around dazai. was it selfish to assume chuuya enjoyed your company?

but the presence of your saviors was enough to make you feel content, not happy, just content. even if it did make you a sinner.

you never learned the name of the dreadful man. you saw dazai covered with injuries whenever he returned from visiting him. you didn't like seeing dazai hurt.

you learned basic first aid to take care of dazai. you would have learned to cook, if it weren't for the constant absence of cooking supplies and food.

medical supplies alone were a hassle to acquire. luckily, chuuya was kind enough to you to deliver a few bandages and pain medicines every now and then.

you both were terribly underweight and skinny, and huddled close together on cold nights. his hands would ghost your waist and bury his face into the crook of your neck as you slept.

you grew attached, and followed him like a dog. whenever his apprentice was in his presence, he would glare at you. you never understood why.

you've been told that jealousy is a green-eyed monster. but the black eyes that burned into your figure with hatred contradicted that statement by a mile.