Work Text:
Dazai knew he screwed up the mission. He’d been playing around, and it cost his subordinates their lives. Mori was always angry at him after he screwed up a mission and then lives are lost.
Knowing that going to headquarters would lead him right into Mori’s angry grip, he considered not showing up. However, he was aware that would only make his punishment worse when it finally came. So, against his desire to make a run for it, Dazai walked back to the mafia headquarters.
Walking up to the imposing doors of Mori’s office, he wanted to turn around. Thinking how easy it would be to escape the wrath he deserved by just walking to the elevator, and going out the front doors. Instead of knocking on the door, which was going to lead him to so much pain and suffering.
“I’m back, Mori,” Dazai entered the room, dragging his feet.
“It’s nice to know you didn’t die out there, like most of the men I sent with you… I heard you were goofing around when they died,” the cold glare from Mori made him feel like a small kid again.
Even the great Demon Prodigy recognized that he was in big trouble, “I doubted they’d need my help, so I left them for a few moments. No one was supposed to die during that, but an ambush occurred while I was gone. There were no survivors.”
Standing, Mori walked over to him, “Oh, well, I heard you were taunting the enemy. Trying to get yourself shot, which only got everyone else shot and killed. You act too childish, so, I’ve got to take that from you.”
“What do you mean? That isn’t true. I act more like an adult than a kid, and I am still just a kid, well, teenager really. You knew what I meant,” Dazai didn’t want to be punished.
“It doesn’t matter what you say, we have an appointment in the doctor’s office. There won’t be of repeats of this incident,” he pulled the teen along by the wrist, bringing him into a familiar office.
Sitting on the bed, Mori gestured for him to remove his clothes, an action he followed through. Asking questions during a punishment just made it worse, and Dazai didn’t want to deal with that. So, he sat there, on the edge of a hospital bed, in only his bandages and boxers. It made him feel bare, and he hated how much of his body was visible.
Mori pushed him down on the bed, rougher than a doctor should. Once Dazai was laid down, he added the chains to his wrists, ankles, and neck. The teen knew to stay still, as the marks from the chains bruised more, the more he struggled. It was bound to be bad enough later, he didn’t want to start his torment himself.
“Now, you look much more obedient chained down. I like it when I can control you like this, it’s nice,” Mori caressed Dazai’s cheek, before putting a gag in his mouth. “Don’t want anyone coming to check who’s screaming. Then they’d have to be punished too.”
Dazai grimaced as much as he could while gagged. The cloth tasted like old blood, and he hoped it was his own. Having someone else’s old blood in his mouth would make him sick. His own would be familiar though, and it wouldn’t be as bad.
Smiling, a sinister smile down at Dazai, Mori got to work removing the bandages. The young executive wore them to cover up scars, and fresh wounds from battles, suicide attempts, Mori’s punishments, and self harm. So, unravelling them always told of his recent, and past experiences.
For this specific punishment, Mori planned to mess up Dazai’s scars. There was a certain place he liked cutting, and he had them all even and organized there. So, clearly, the only way to really hurt him was to cut over what he did, and make the pattern a mess. Destroying what Dazai had worked hard to create on his skin.
A special scalpel was pulled out for the task. It was one of Mori’s favourites for opening people up, to never have to sew them together again. Which was tempting with Dazai as he’d love to know the boy was permanently out of his hair. However, he was valuable, as he was foolish.
“Such perfect scars, time to open them up,” Mori muttered to himself, knowing Dazai would hear.
The way he tensed, almost pleading with his eyes for Mori to leave those alone. Yet his words couldn’t be spoken, and the blade pressed into his skin. Cutting through an old scar that had been building up layers for years. A clear favourite one for Dazai to reopen himself.
More lines were painted red, and Mori smirked.
Seeing Dazai bleeding, and looking upset about his masterpiece on his arm being ruined was a dream come true to the twisted former doctor. He wanted to make his small demon break, just so he would be the perfect weapon. Shaving away the unnecessary bits, and leaving only the tool behind.
It looked like a forest of bleeding lines, when Mori sprayed rubbing alcohol on the wound. A muffled scream came through the gag, and Dazai struggled against his restraints. He never cleaned his cuts to avoid such sharp pain.
“Now, onto the other side…” Mori muttered, before dragging his blade over Dazai’s right arm.
—
Hours later, Dazai’s wrists were raw from tugging on the chains, and his vocal cords were dead. Bloody gashes covered his arms, legs, and part of his torso. All were cleaned properly, before thicker bandage layers were put on to keep the bleeding to a minimum.
Luckily for Mori, nobody would even ask about the extra bandages. Dazai was well known for his suicide attempts in the mafia, and everyone would just assume they were from that. Even Chuuya would think it was just some self harm, never digging deep enough to find out about the abuse going on.
How even after leaving, Dazai’s scars kept him shackled to Mori.