Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warnings:
Category:
Fandom:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2017-06-18
Words:
1,786
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
16
Kudos:
62
Bookmarks:
10
Hits:
1,044

Momento Mori

Summary:

Finally, Dazai has escaped Mori's watchful eye. They can have peace, a place to finally be able to kill themselves without any interference. They have hatched the perfect plan in order to do so... Or have they?

-----

Dazai peered through their fingers at the hot summer sun above their head. The cicadas screamed in the field, their buzzing almost seeming to be visible in the waves of heat. It was a sweet, familiar noise. Not unpleasant and almost comforting due to its familiarity. A good noise to slowly slip away from the world to. Hopefully in this field, Mori wouldn’t find them. They would slowly decompose and become part of the field, lost to time. A fitting end, they thought to themselves as their hand went to rest on the knife beside them.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

 Dazai peered through their fingers at the hot summer sun above their head. The cicadas screamed in the field, their buzzing almost seeming to be visible in the waves of heat. It was a sweet, familiar noise. Not unpleasant and almost comforting due to its familiarity. A good noise to slowly slip away from the world to. Hopefully in this field, Mori wouldn’t find them. They would slowly decompose and become part of the field, lost to time. A fitting end, they thought to themselves as their hand went to rest on the knife beside them.

This time they would go through with it. It would be a success and Mori wouldn’t be able to try and fix them. They would finally fill that void by completely ending the monotony known as life. No one knew they were here and there was no way to trace them. While they would have preferred someone to be with them at this final moment, this would have to do. Alone is what they deserved, after all. However, there was a twinge of sadness knowing how Oda would react to their death.

As they slowly sat up, grass fell from their hair. Dazai picked the knife from the ground, blowing the dirt and dust from it. The knife glistened in the sun, reflecting the bright light back into their eyes. They squinted due to the reflection, still refusing to take their eyes off the instrument of choice. Even the knife seemed to vibrate and sing with the cicadas, calling Dazai to let it taste blood. It was not an unfamiliar taste for this particular knife, one that had been in Dazai’s flesh before only under Mori’s hand; one of many.

A small drop of blood ran down their thumb as they dragged it down the blade, testing the sharpness. They had done this countless times before as was shown by the cuts in various stages of healing along their fingers. Cuts and scars were nothing new on their body and no one seemed to question it. They all knew what it was from. Dazai’s constant suicide seeking was no secret, especially not to Chuuya or Mori. It was their belief that Dazai was never serious in their attempts or ideations. That is why they always failed. The truth was that luck was simply always on their side, and not in the way they wanted. The cosmos seemed to laugh at their attempts, always finding a way for them to be unsuccessful. A broken rope, the wrong spot, the airbag still going off, anything to stop Dazai from actually finding what lay on the other side of the living world.

On top of the never ending luck, there was also Mori. Mori would never let Dazai die and they knew it. Mori had used his skills and intellect to pull Dazai from many a situation. No matter how close Dazai was to death, Mori was always there to bring them back. Those were the attempts that went through. Sometimes Mori was one step ahead of them, there to thwart their attempts before they even had a chance to be set in motion. Dazai bit their lip thinking of what would happen if Mori found them out here. They shook their head, furrowing their brow to chase the idea from their mind.

Despite the summer heat, the knife was still cool to the touch. It was a feeling quite familiar, the bandages that laced up and down their arms told the story quite well. The countless scars, raised bubbles of flesh, a testament to their dedication to suicide as well as the ways they had failed. Failed so many times. Not this time though. They had made sure of that. No one would stop them, not Oda, not Chuuya, and most of all not Mori. A deep breath filled their chest, their lungs aching. Even now, there was a nervousness that filled their bones. It hummed through them like a dull electric spark; nervousness mixed with excitement. Exhilaration.

Pale fingers undid the buttons on their shirt, exposing even paler flesh to the blazing sun. The glow of their skin under the light seemed enchanting. It was almost as if their body was glowing. Their fingers gently traced from under their sternum to their belly button, tracing the path the blade would soon take. While it was not a glamorous or clean death, it was a death nonetheless. Options were becoming limited and a quick and painless death was something that seemed impossible. Literally spilling their guts upon the earth would be painful, but it would not last long. They’d also be long dead by the time the vultures and other carrion birds decided to feed on their flesh; at least they hoped that would be the case. Dazai had heard enough horror stories of birds plucking eyes from their sockets while their owners still writhed in their coming end.

Cold steel met the hollow below their sternum, their hands steady as they slowly began to press the knife inward. The flesh and muscle parted easier than Dazai thought it would. Air hissed past their clenched teeth, the pain immediate and causing bursts of darkness in middle of their vision. The pain was not the worst they had experienced, not by far. There had been moments where they had experienced their flesh being torn from their body. Moments way more painful than this; moments where they wanted to live rather than die despite the pain. Death would come at their own hands and no one else’s. That was something they had always held themself to. As the hilt of the knife touched their flesh, their thoughts returned to the matter at hand.

It wasn’t as hard as Dazai thought it would be, even with the pain. The gentle pressure on the knife caused it to slide down their torso, slowly parting the flesh on their stomach. They could feel their muscles parting and their body twitching as the knife separated it into two. Pain continued to explode as black silhouettes in their vision and the knife became hard to grip from blood. Their insides screamed, the knife touching parts of them that should not be exposed to air. Their head was singing, vibrating in the same rhythm as the cries of the cicadas that were slowly fading. Yet, they continued and tightened their grip through the gore. They clenched their jaw, forcing themselves to look down and focus. They would finish the job.

The way the flesh and muscle was parted seemed almost fake. If there wasn’t blood freely gushing from the wound and onto their hands and pants, they would have believed their body to suddenly be a false double. Something made from rubber due to the texture their skin had taken on. The cut was clean, almost too beautifully clean. Dazai could see the yellow and white pieces of fat under their skin, glossy under their own blood. Each thump of their heart caused blood to gush, the loss already causing light-headedness. There was precious little time left before the blood loss would cause them to pass out. This was not the time to stop and marvel at the inside of a human body. It’s not like this was first time Dazai had seen what a person looks like when cut open.

So, they pressed on. They continued downward with the knife, feeling it cut through their soft stomach. It was surprising how little inside the knife caught on, until it reached their belly button. The sudden catching causing bile to rise in Dazai’s throat. For some reason, this roadblock caused them to realize it was their own body they were cutting through, something that was alive and resisting in its own minor ways. It was really happening, they were going to die by their own hand. The bile was hot in the back of their throat as they stopped right above their crotch. They dropped the knife, which landed with a soft thud in the grass of the field. It gleamed once more now in the sun, the red blood on it adding a sinister grin to the metal.

As if following the cue of the knife, their own guts spilled from the wound. Thick, ropey intestines no longer held back by muscle or flesh. The smell caused the bile to rise again and this time Dazai heaved, their whole body seizing with the motion. The pain flooded their body, and they began to fall to the ground. Their vision flashed white, pain ringing and screaming in their head. No longer could they hear the cicadas’ calls. This was it, they could see the encroaching darkness from the sides of their vision, slowly engulfing the blinding white pain. Too slow. Dazai realized how slowly it was coming as they felt their body shake and seize again. Shock. They were going into shock whether it was from blood loss or seeing their own intestines on the ground, that was unknown. Regardless, if blood loss didn’t kill them, the shock would.

Finally, success. Death would come and there would be no one to stop it. Finally, peace from the world. Peace from themself. They were surprised how clear their thoughts were in this current moment, coming as if in slow motion. Despite the pain, despite everything, they could still think about what was happening around and to them. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.

Dazai coughed, draping a blood covered hand over their eyes. A siren. There were no nearby roads that were easily accessible. There was no way that Mori had found them. So much meticulous planning. Even Mori’s genius would not be able to find Dazai here, not in time at least. Dazai’s eyes returned to the sky, staring through a red film of gore, blood, and their own hand. Despite the encroaching darkness or the white explosions of the pain, they could still see the red tinted blue sky. Was the sky always this blue? The soft yet growing sound of a helicopter could be heard in the distance.

A helicopter? A slight laugh turned into a vicious coughing fit, blood trickling from Dazai’s mouth and splattering their chest and hand with each heave. Ridiculous. There was no way and yet the noise soon drowned out even the screaming pain, blowing dirt and dust around the field.  A soft smile crossed Dazai’s lips as the muted words of the first responder came through the haze of the moment. They had failed once more. Death would not embrace them today. What a shame. What awaited them under Mori’s hand was more than likely worse than what was happening now.

Notes:

Bad pun title is bad.

*I use gender neutral pronouns for Dazai due to this factoid on the Wikia: Dazai usually refers to himself by the gender neutral pronoun, "watashi," rather than the more masculine pronouns like "boku" or "ore."

Please respect agender Dazai <3