Chapter Text
The icy breeze of the darkened night sky hit harshly against Dazai’s skin, his overgrown brunet bangs obstructing his eyesight as he took one heavy, long sigh. The concrete roof he was standing on was cold to the touch, the feeling on his bare feet alone made him shiver as snowflakes fell slowly around him; occasionally landing on his warm, chubby cheeks fainted with a slight pink from the fever that was threatening to form.
Dazai shuddered as he slipped out of his charcoal jacket, erasing the bitter memories that came along with such a thing. As the haunting reminders flooded his mind, Dazai absentmindedly gripped his wrist – reopening the fresh wounds that hadn’t yet begun to heal. The white colour of the recently wrapped bandages was quickly fading to a dark crimson red as the blood seeped through the layers covering his scarred skin.
Upon realising the misfortune that the distraction had caused, Dazai quickly unravelled the stained red cloth – discarding them on the blinding snow that had begun to pile on the ground surrounding him. He felt exposed, if not vulnerable, but what is that to matter – his life was shortly coming to an end.
The only remaining bandage was the one carefully wrapped around his irritated eye, he wasn’t blind, but it was an ugly sight to see. When Mori first took him in, the doctor himself loved experimenting with whatever he could get his hands on – nothing has changed now, though over the years it just became more normal. Nobody ever looked at him with that hint of concern like they did when he was 7 – when he was just seen as an innocent child being taken advantage of. Now he’s known as the Demon prodigy, and nobody would care if the monster took its life.
As a child, his suicide attempts were taken seriously. Members would treat him like he would break at any given moment – back when they gave a damn. And now, that same 7 year old boy stood on an abandoned rooftop after 8 years of just barely surviving. The drugs the brunet had taken slowly wearing him down as he collapsed onto the edge, gasping for air.
Dazai didn’t want to die, he just wanted a reason to live – and his reason to live had argued against his humanity, called him a demon and wished for him to die. Dazai had no reason to go against wishes (orders), so like any obedient child would do – he complied.
A sharp gust of wind pushed against the boy’s shoulder as he steadied himself, forcing himself to stand up. As he did so, his eyes grew more and more heavy. Dazai managed to climb to the edge, closing his eyes slowly as a smile crept onto his face.
3.. he counted in his head – his childhood memories flooding his mind. The image of his mother smiling at him with a look of genuine happiness. Childhood memories of them men pushing the door to the floor at midnight, masks, guns and evil – pure evil.
2.. the men attacked the boy – he was what? 7 at the time – and the sound of his mother made everyone pause. “Her ability is more important, attack!” was the last thing he heard before his mother pushed Dazai out the house, lighting a match. Dazai ran fast, he was struggling to breath, yet he refused to stop.
1.. The child made it to a large building – it was known for being the tallest, and he was now standing on the rooftop. As soon as his eyes locked onto his house, his face dropped – the wooden shack he called home was burnt to ashes, nobody in sight.
0.. The child jumped off the building, shutting his eyes as tight as possible to get rid of the pain about to overcome his entire body. But as he opened his eyes, he saw the present. 15 year old Dazai, on the same rooftop 8 years later.
As the countdown ended, Dazai let his eyes fall closed once again, stepping off the rooftop and gracefully falling to his well deserved end. Before the teen boy hit the rough gravel, his eyes opened for one final time, and yet he still saw a glimpse of a man rushing towards him before his vision faded to black and he fell into a deep slumber.
-
The time stated 3:04 AM on Aizawa’s old wristwatch, the man was agitated to say the least. Earlier that day, Nezu had told him that he had to guard the Yokohama border as no one else was willing to.
He was on his fifth coffee of the day, the one currently in his hands giving a sense of warmth necessary in the frosty weather stabbing him through the many layers of fabric wrapped around his body.
Yamada had offered to keep the man company during his night, yet Aizawa insisted that he got the sleep he was lacking. Over the past few eventful days, neither of the pair had gotten a wink of sleep in – the most being 5 minutes before they were called out on yet another mission.
Although he likes his job as a hero, it was tiring work. However, that thought process was cut short as he looked over his shoulder and saw a young boy falling. The rest was a blur as he quickly made it to the scene before any serious damage was done – the boy passing out in the mans arms while he wrapped his scarf carefully around the youngers wounds.
Before he knew it, the man was carrying a Yokohaman citizen outside of the borders, demanding medical care for the boy in his arms.
An ambulance arrived at the scene alongside some heroes worried for the resident who lived in Yokohama, yet also curious on what they looked like, and how they acted.
The hospital was a bright place; it didn’t help soothe his headache. Yamada was sat next to him, trying to comfort his husband after the situation that occurred just a few hours ago – telling him that everything was fine.
Aizawa eventually fell asleep, leaning on his husbands shoulder – exhausted from days of all nighters and worried for the teen boy who had just tried to end his life.
He closed his eyes, letting himself gradually fall asleep.
The time was 6:47 AM.