(someone asks, “what are you to me?”
madara whispers, “anything you want me to be.”)
He realises now that he was never meant to be a hero. The gods might be long dead but their mischief endures all the same, and Madara is a spot wiped away. Nothing he leaves behind can’t be erased, so if this is the role he was destined to play then he’ll at least decide for himself how he exits.
But still the princess clasps the hero’s hand and slays the mighty dragon, and Madara is left with nothing but a sword through his hollow heart and the knowledge that he’s never managed to save a single thing.
/ madara-focus introspective fic
his is a foreign existence in a foreign land, speaking words only ane-san can understand. kept tightly leashed in soft silk and a birdcage painted in gold. his future is written out in undeniable phases. chuuya, who has nothing else left in the world, acquiesces to his fate. dazai, who's never had anything, writes his own.
but then again, when ane-san's carefully planned out paths are thoroughly destroyed by none other than chuuya's own kismet, even dazai cannot help but applaud.
(or, Nakahara Chuuya grows up with tragedy in his blood and melancholy in his soul, but Dazai finds a way past it all for a while -at least, until his own disasters come to haunt him. A story about the life of a long-suffering soul.)
When Tsurumaru opens his eyes, the first thing that his newest master says to him is, ‘I’m sorry.’
(he doesn’t blame her. the human heart can be frustratingly irrational at times, he knows that more than ever now.)