Brainrot

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CONTENT WARNING:

Mentions of death

Heavy talk of suicide

BSD story spoilers for "The Day I Took In Dazai" and the main storyline.

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The day I landed at Oda's doorstep was monumental for many reasons. That day, I had intended to take myself off to die in some dark hole, surrounded by the filth the city had begun to let fester. The 'where' of my death had never mattered to any degree, in relation to the 'how' at the very least. While I would enjoy seeing the light and beauty this city had to offer one last time, as though it were unmarred by the rot beneath the surface, it was not a condition of importance. As long I achieved my peacefull never ending nothing, that's all that mattered.

But, beside myself, I did the unfathomable and chose to live, crawling my way over to some random doorstep, somewhere with foot traffic.

But nothing is random, not really, it's all just mathematics. I had heard whispers of an untouchable team of assassins that terrorised the criminal world, and then they suddenly dropped off the radar... and well, curiosity got the better of me.

I intentionally ended up at Oda Sasunosuke's step that day, I did not intend to be bloodied and full of lead, but it just happened to be close by. I knew the legends were wrong, he acted alone, there was no team of assassins just one man and a mission- Well several missions.

What I could not have predicted was the domino effect from this simple action that would change the face of Yokohama life forever.

I chose to live that day.

I chose to end up at his door step.

I had essentially killed him with my own selfish deed.

The day after his death, those marble tiles were wiped clean. There was no evidence of the supreme loss the world had just suffered. No evidence of the betrayal of a selfish boy.

It was when starring at those spotless tiles when it began to dawn on me. Normal civilian death was not like those of the PM. The crushing reality of the situation is that someone is always going to find what's left of you and then that it is their burden to bear.

Someone will eventually dredge your corpse from the river, someone will find you hanging like a cheap pinata from your favourite tree, someone will have to power wash you from the concrete after falling from a height.

Someone will eventually find you on the floor of your apartment covered in your own vomit; or in the bathtub, drowned in your own blood.

Someone will always have to clean up what remains and wear the scars themselves.

With these facts in mind, I had come to the unshakable conclusion that there is no such thing as death without displaced burden.

In short, there is no such thing as a clean suicide; certainly not in the way I had dreamed about for so long, and I suddenly felt more the fool for chasing such an impossibility to no end.

Instead, I can aim for second best, simply leaving this world a better place than when I found it.

I aim to leave in such a way that humanity heaves a sigh of relief when I eventually slip away one last time.

Minimising damage, manipulating pawns to be where needed ... I guess Mori's teachings were of more use than I originally thought.