The Dark Story Of Revenge

01

            Dazai yawned as he sat up in his bed thinking about the events of the day prior. he had left the port mafia. After seeing his best friend die in his own two hands he knew he couldn't handle it any more. If it hadn't been for mori he could've gotten there in time. He could have saved him he could have been there. Odusaku would still be alive, he would still sit down in the lupin bar and drink away with him. But alas we can't all get what we want. Only a small select few will ever get anything they want such as joy, happiness, laughter. But no dazai would never get any of those again all because of mori, that's it mori, mori is the cause of all this, mori yes, yes mori is the real problem, mori, mori, mori, all that's needed to fix this problem is get rid of mori. But how was the real question. Oh, all the many ways he thought of to get rid of that god awful mori. Which way would make him feel closest to the way dazai felt, oh, but alas dazai just couldn't decide, so like any normal maniac he decided to wait and dispose of him when he least expected it. All he could think about the rest of the day was, "goodbye mori, bye mori, bye mori, bye mori, bye mori, bye mori, bye mori." Until he felt as though hearing the name in his head would cause him to die before he could dispose of the god awful thing that couldn't even be called human. So in the only way dazai knew how, to get the thought out of his mind he banged his head against the wall as hard as he could until he inevitably passed out.

            When dazai woke up he was on the floor. After a few seconds he remembered the prior events that had caused him to pass out in the first place. He touched he forehead and sure enough there was blood. It wasn't dry, but it wasn't new or fresh, meaning he had bled a lot and had probably been unconscious for several hours. Dazai walked over to his bathroom cabinet, leaning down he grabbed rubbing alcohol as well as some toilet paper to wipe the extra blood off of his stinging forehead. Dazai grabbed the toilet paper in his hand and wiped the blood off his forehead, smearing it across his face. Even though it burned he went over to the sink and used some damp toilet paper to clean of the rest of the blood from his face. After cleaning the blood from his face he put some rubbing alcohol on his wound, it burned, and I mean it when I say that. When he finally finished cleaning his wound he walked over the living room.

            After taking his seat on the sofa he reached his hand over to his side table. He grabbed three books off of it at random, deciding that he would just choose to read one of the three. The first book was a suicide manual, no surprise there. The second book was a hand written journal by himself, he already knew everything that was in that book, he threw it across the room deciding he wouldn't even open it to even take a small glance at the contents. Dazai looked at the final book of the three, before he looked at the title he said "and last, but most definitely not least.........drum roll please........" " Number 1?" Dazai sat there confused. He didn't remember purchasing (or stealing) something titled "number 1". He opened as all the memories came rushing to his head. "Ah yes", he said as he remembered. he had wrote several books and titled them rather,  i don't know, uniquely, per say. He had written the books over the course of the time he had know Chuuya. He claimed they were just about all the times he annoyed him or upset him, however that was nowhere near what they were. They were about everything he liked or loved about Chuuya. I mean, yes of course some of the things involved them fighting but those things still made Dazai happy because he knew they always came back together, like i mean no matter what, they had some ,how do i put it, intense fights, but alas they always stayed partners. On several occasions the wretched non human named Mori gave them the option to separate, hoping to see if it could improve their proformance. Wow....he really is always trying to experiment on children now wasn't he.

            After opening the book Dazai began to read all the things he wrote. How almost all of the entrys involved how he loved the sound of his dear Chuuyas voice. How to him it sounded like dandelions in the breeze, or, I don't know, at least that's the picture his voice painted in his mind. Oh, how dazai loved chuuya, from his wonderfully perfect voice, to his silly little hats, oh how dazai loved that short mafioso. As he got lost in his thoughts about that darling mafioso he had lost track of his time. I mean, he "lost track of time" a lot but this time he truly did. After what dazai believed to be a few short minutes had actually be three long hours. After looking at the time dazai audibly gasped, dazai was genuinely surprised it had been that long. After looking at the time dazai also realized just how late it was, so he walked over to his bedroom (still holding the book), he laid down on his mattress, pulling the comforter over his body. That night dazai had the best he had in a long, long time.