• The mission had become a massacre.

By the time the smoke settled, there was nothing left of the battlefield except shattered concrete, twisted steel, and the sound of distant flames devouring what little remained. Every member of the enemy force had been wiped out… but victory felt meaningless.

Dazai dragged himself through the wreckage, one arm hanging uselessly at his side, blood dripping from countless cuts he couldn’t bring himself to care about. His vision blurred with every step, yet he kept calling the same name over and over.

“Chuuya!”

No answer.

“Chuuya, quit hiding!”

Still nothing.

His heartbeat climbed into his throat as he stumbled over broken beams and chunks of collapsed buildings, desperately tearing through the rubble with bleeding hands. Splinters of concrete carved into his fingers, dust filled his lungs, but he didn’t stop.

Then he saw it.

A flash of copper hair beneath the debris.

“…No.”

The word escaped as little more than a whisper.

Dazai dropped to his knees so hard the impact barely registered. He clawed away pieces of concrete until Chuuya’s body was finally uncovered, limp against the shattered ground.

He looked… asleep.

Too peaceful.

His hat was gone. His gloves had been torn to ribbons. Bruises and cuts covered every inch of exposed skin, yet none of it frightened Dazai nearly as much as the stillness.

“Chuuya…”

His voice cracked.

He grabbed Chuuya’s shoulders, shaking him harder than he meant to.

“Wake up.”

Nothing.

“…Come on.”

Nothing.

“Damn it, Chuuya!”

His shout echoed across the empty ruins before dying into silence.

With trembling hands, Dazai pressed his fingers against Chuuya’s neck.

He couldn’t find a pulse.

His own breathing hitched.

“No… no, that’s… that’s impossible.”

He checked again.

And again.

His hands were shaking too violently to tell if what he felt was Chuuya’s heartbeat… or his own pounding against his fingertips.

“This isn’t funny.”

His voice had become frighteningly small.

“You hate these jokes.”

He laughed once.

It sounded broken.

“You’d be yelling at me by now.”

Silence answered him.

Dazai pulled Chuuya into his arms despite the pain that shot through his own battered body, holding him so tightly it was almost desperate.

“You promised we’d both make it back.”

Another laugh escaped him, cracking apart into something dangerously close to a sob.

“You idiot… you don’t get to leave first.”

The battlefield remained silent.

No heartbeat.

No sarcastic remark.

No annoyed shove.

Just the unbearable weight of someone who might already be gone… and a fifteen-year-old boy who had no idea how to exist in a world where his partner didn’t open his eyes.*