When he found his own ringtone an unbearable cacaphony, an effect of sleep deprivation, he half contemplated smashing the device against the wall. Tomorrow morning he'd just buy a new one.

But then again, for the sole reason that his subordinates could be lying in shackles somewhere, or for the fact that, that dumbass Akutagawa was lying on his death bed after pulling some stupid solo stunt, he painfully put sleep away, and venomously warned into the receiver.

"You all better be dying somewhere. If you aren't, then make sure you are all dying before I get there, otherwise you are all dead."

"Chuya." a strangled whisper came in reply, and the Port Mafia executive immediately cut his phone in favor of sleep.

It was that idiot. Huh ! He was probably dying in a ditch somewhere. All's well and good !

A mere five seconds passed, before Nakahara Chuya shot up from his bed, and then cursing every God out there, threw himself out of bed to get ready.

Screw Dazai. If he was messing around this time, Chuya would definitely kill him, he grabbed his knife from underneath the pillow, with every intention of plunging it into that diabolical bastard, should the situation require it, and stepped out into the cold air of the night.

He hit redial on what was supposedly Dazai's new number, not that he ever bothered to know Dazai's old number, to compare. He had freaking thrown a party when that moron left, and had consequently deleted his number too.

He could here an annoying ring, and it went straight to voicemail "Helloooo! You've reached me, obviously. So just leave a message, I'll get back to you if my suicide is unsucessful."

Biting his teeth furiously, Chuya questioned himself for the millionth time, if there was any logic in going to save that idiot. Why would he go ? After all the Armed Detective Agency was his "home"

He couldn't help but cringe at the corny sentimentality, Dazai had suddenly acquired. The moron didn't ofcourse declare it with a trumpet and a parade, but he might as well, done it, considering the number of uncharacteristic things he had done in the name of his dear Agency.

So yeah, they would save him.

Chuya was about to turn around and go back into his house, but the idea that Dazai called him, so pathetically, had his brains churning. Why did Dazai call him, and not the agency ?. Yes, could be an act to annoy him, but then Dazai could have done it earlier. There was not a peep from the man, when he left the mafia. And if Chuya's grasp of the situation was correct, Dazai hated the mafia, and had wanted nothing to do with it. So, calling Chuya out in the middle of a winter night to prank him was an unlikely possibility.

So the only thing that remained was the option of a trap.

Diabolical as he was Dazai would never do cheap tricks as this to lure his former partner into a trap. It would be something more infuriating.

So having made up his mind to gain satisfaction in the form of seeing Dazai's pathetic self he set out, albeit a little reluctantly, into the cold air, phoning his non-mafia hacker contact to track Dazai's phone.

The girl a, fourteen year old, was a master hacker, and given a few years, Chuya would probably recruit her into the mafia. His results came in the form of a location- Warehouse district, south.

He contemplated on informing the Agency that their suicidal maniac was missing,and then let them handle the rest, but why would Dazai waste his final breath, assuming that's what it was, calling his name, than his pet prodigy, or new partner.

Only one way to find out.

Warehouse district south had a nice touch to it. Nice high beams, lot of carbon-monooxide, chemicals of all kinds, all recepies to a peaceful suicide. Alas ! If only there was a beautiful woman next to him.

A stinging pain, and a groggy brain reminded him of his current position. After today, it wouldn't matter to him if there was a pretty woman, or chemicals for suicide, after all he was lying in a pool of his own blood, which in a beautiful manner, seemed to surround him.

He wasn't making any sense now.

His call to Chuya, had nothenless been effective. The red head would probably be on his way here, to hear Dazai's last words, and take a selfie and then post it in the Mafia group. His distaste of having Chuya be the last face to see before his death, ofcourse didn't bode well with him, so he optioned, on closing his tired eyes. Who knew that would be a big mistake ?

He felt like he had been hit by a freight train, when a boot made contact to his injured side, and he went flying a few feet away from the company of his blood, and his phone which lay in his former pool of blood.

"You don't get to sleep. No you don't. I'm not done with you yet !"

Not this again.

"Yeah, yeah." Dazai more or less slurred. "I know."

"Are you looking down on me ?" The massive human being in front of him dangerously asked.

"Uh ? Who ? Me ?" Dazai asked, still in pain, yet unable to control the laugh he had been holding in.

"You jerk !" Kick. "I'll kill you !" Kick. kick. Kick.

Dazai wanted to correct the man, and tell him he had already half suceeded. After all it was december and all, and he had stopped shivering a long time ago, and he for some reason was seeing Odasaku, shaking his head disappointedly, as if Dazai had told him the capital of Italy was Russia.

"Yeah right. So what do you want ?" Dazai asked, his voice half strangled, trying to fight the human instinct of going to sleep, and getting another kick.

"What do I want ? What do I want ?!" maniacal laughter followed, before he continued "I want you to feel the same pain Oda did when he died." Then taking hold of Dazai's bloody trench coat collar, he dragged him, and threw him so that he was lounging, definitely not voulntarily against a hard box, or wall or whatever it was, with this man's boot pressed against his adam's apple, choking him.

"Trash like you, musn't be alive ! Trash like you, shouldn't have even been born ! Oda all he wanted to do was write a book, and you betrayed him. It's not fair, it's not fair that a sorry excuse for a human being like you gets to live, and he dies. Those children didn't deserve to die either ! And it's all You !"

Kick to the face.

Damn that was some kick ! Dazai was sure this guy would rival Chuya in his kicks.

"Yeah, yeah. Never denied it. It's all me." Dazai chuckled humorlessly, and enticing a rageful action from the man in front of him.

Kick to his head.

Ouch ! That hurt too.

"You piece of trash !"

"Newsflash ! He died with a bullet !" Dazai mentioned unnecessarily, and Odasaku who seemed to be witnessing all this, seemed to shake his head, as if to say "Shut your trap, you little twit."

"Huh ? I betrayed him, and he died with a bullet !" Dazai cheerily slurred, his head spinning for some reason, and blurring the next kick that came.

This one made him cough up blood, and he fell onto his side, only to get roughened to sitting position back again by the man, Odasaku's friend, and choked to death.

"I'll put a bullet in you. I'll do it. I'll kill you." And with one more kick, he left Dazai choking, gasping, and heaving all at the same time.

"My, my, your friend is quite violent, my man." he said to Odasaku, who now had a flat look on his face. You brought this on yourself. Deal with it. it translated.