Work Text:
The clock ticks in time as it strikes 12 AM.
Between the quiet, still blanketed darkness, a steady stream of distasteful happenings occur.
Dazai sits lazily, stretched along the soft couch in his apartment as he skims over the codes and secrets laid bare to him–reflected bright in his eyes from the lit screen of the laptop. In the dark room, the blue light highlights his face ever so strikingly, with a subtle focus on his delicately outlined jaw... And–
A smile.
“Hmmm.” A tilt of the head and sigh, “A new way to die? A vaccine is it now? Man-made cure for a man-made disease it seems.” Eyes darkening and a playful smirk dances on the corners of his lips as he shifts his hair aside with a look of no surprise. As if it was to be expected.
“How darkly human. Well, human enough for someone with too much time on their hands–AND MONEY. Can’t forget that. It's much too important.”
Later that night, a tune was heard whilst footsteps tapped against the sidewalk. And if you were to ask someone what it was about, they’d tell you, “Some song about suicide or some shi–”
And far too soon, the song fades into the cool night air, replaced by the silent click of a lock, and the scent of expensive, doomed ambition.
…
A man sat in his room, wearing an expression inhumanly human. Smiling as he leisurely lay on his bed. Eyes glinting before they caught the silhouette of a paper-thin looking man, with a mysteriously dark smile, shaded by hair the likes of soft dark chocolate.
Too bad for him because that’s the last thing he saw before his vision turned sideways. Lying limp on the cold floor. What a pathetic end for such a grand disaster he’d caused in time.
Annoying– is the thought Dazai had as he glanced at the dead, but still remarkably ugly old guy on the floor.
Glancing at the table, he found a fun little experiment. A syringe and vial lay quietly detached inside an enclosed case on the bedside table.
So this was the toxin mentioned in the document… What a peculiar ability he had.
Grabbing it swiftly, he draws the liquid with ease. When his gaze settles on the inside of his wrist, the needle slips in, and pricks the soft flesh. For a heartbeat, a cold, unnatural shiver spreads from the nape down, and his vision fades a bit. But his ability neutralizes it just as quickly.
It killed the sensation before it could even become a memory.
He smiles faintly. What a bore. He sighs woefully as he exits down the stairs. Soft, rhythmic taps in the quiet, yet ever so eventful night.
And despite the ludicrous absurdity of it all, Dazai found his thoughts wandering much too easily beneath the moon.
He thought of his old friend. Who had died quietly from a similar, yet not so similar situation. Involving a bomb, van, and innocent little kids. Whilst his had been an unsuccessful, self-inflicted attempt–one involving a needle.
Truly ill-fated. A hapless existence.
One he couldn’t end till his time ticked its final strike. Although, to say he wasn’t interested in how well things could be dealt with, in ways not entirely brutal, of which served as purpose for the ‘greater good,’ with mercy. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t curious.
Eyes fluttering up again, they focus straight onto a certain were-tiger prowling as it struts straight into an enclosed building. He follows. Well, at least it’s interesting while it lasts.