chapter fory six (for real this time)

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PLEASE READ

okay. i have a few things i want to address.
(1) if you read the update that was up briefly over the summer where we time skipped ten years?? ignore it. i changed my mind. sorry. those chapters have been deleted.
(2) i get a huge amount of complaints about the reader's character and i would like to explain my reasons for making her the way she is. i based her responses to dazai off of the way that akutagawa responds to dazai. she has no idea why he left the mafia, just that he told her he would help her and then instead he abandoned her. of course she is angry and hurt and distrustful. of course she hates atsushi at the start. from her perspective, a man she thought was dead was in fact very much alive, having abandoned her and the people she has grown to care about over the years (akutagawa and chuuya) and in her eyes (as well as theirs) replaced them with 'better' versions. of course she hates atsushi at the start. of course she uses her trauma as a wepon, she is scared. more than anything,, she wants to prove to dazai that she never needed him in the first place. i'm trying to do a hatred to friends with atsushi right now since that was always the plan.
(3) i am now in college and got a dear friend of mine obsessed with this show. i promised her i would continue this fic so hi!! i'm back!! hopefully it's up to your standards, i haven't written in at least 7 months.
thanks for reading, now on to the chapter!! i hope you guys enjoy!! (esp you hannah <3 <3)

Atsushi POV

I was captured, stuck on the god forsaken moby dick while Yokohama burned below me. It wasn't even physically burning, that's just the way Francis described it. Burning. Being destroyed by its citizens, by Q and his damned ability, by me and my own inability to act, my lack of strength.

"Let me out!" I yelled, slamming my fists against the cell door for what felt like the thousandth time. "Damnit."

I knew the action was futile, I had known since the beginning. I ran across the cramped metallic cell to the window instead, looking down to see if I could see the destruction from on high.

"The city.." I mumbled to myself, thankful that the destruction was not yet bad enough to be viewed from the air, "I need to do something."

"Oh my," came a voice from behind me and I turned to see Lucy standing at the door, watching me through the bars, "I came to check on you on my way to the garbage. This is a pleasant sight."

"You're.." I began, walking back to the door so we could speak face to face, ".. please! Let me out of here!"

"No way" she jeered, smiling brightly and dashing the little spark of hope her appearance at my prison had given to me, "I hate privileged people like you. Maybe you'll know how I feel when the city burns down and you're discarded like this useless doll."

She held up Q's doll, ripped nearly in half and about to be thrown away like trash.

She has suffered just like me. I said to myself, a plan formulating, maybe if I can talk to her, she will understand where I am coming from. We're similar enough that it just might work.

"I know your pain well." I began before she cut me off.

"Dont talk like you know!" she yelled, and in that moment I saw more of her than I ever had.
Where I had turned to self pity and hatred as Y/n had chided me for doing on so many occasions, her pain had turned to anger and fear. 

Shes just trying to protect herself. 

"Have you washed dishes all day with bloody fingers?" she said calmly, a slight tremor to her voice "have you ever been tortured with a hot iron poker?"

Where you have begun to grow from others denial of your experiences and your pain, she has held on and it has consumed her.

She pulled up her sleeve, revealing numerous scars from the many times she had been burnt as a child.

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