This type of shit was only supposed to happen in movies. People were never meant to become soulless, brain-eating creatures, but they did. They are.

Because of his job in the Port Mafia, Chuuya has seen many horrors in his life. He’s seen mutilated corpses, he’s seen intestines screen across the ground, he’s seen gallons of blood soaking the walls… but there was something just so fucking sickening watching normal, ordinary people become infected and lose themselves. It just wasn’t right. It wasn’t right.

The whole world wasn’t right anymore. It was actively falling apart. Cities were either ruins and concrete jungles for zombies to populate, or safe havens for survivors and refugees. Forests were overgrown like weeds in a garden, somehow lush and beautiful in the gray, dying world.

Another thing that was wrong: Osamu fucking Dazai was the one Chuuya got stuck with at the end of the world. Ironic as hell. The person Chuuya couldn’t stand was the one who’s by his side during the apocalypse. He was a goddamn joke to the universe.

But… having Dazai around wasn’t always bad, although Chuuya would never admit that. Despite their differences and constant bickering and rivalry, they… they took care of each other. They had each other’s backs. It was reminiscent to their time as Double Black before Dazai deflection all those years ago. Chuuya didn’t know if he hated that or not.

Exhibit A: Occasionally, they stumbled upon some fuckass, moronic people who dress up as soldiers and believe they run the world because no one else does anymore. And occasionally, those people are able to land a hit on Chuuya. Of course, this didn’t slow him down whatsoever, but it gave him a burst of ‘how fucking dare you’ anger and he finished them off with a destructive swipe of his ability. After that, though, Chuuya immediately falls to the ground, gripping the fiery hole ripped through his left thigh from a bullet. There was no exit wound Chuuya could find with painful, shaky feeling around, so the bullet was still in there.