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It wasn’t often that the innate feeling of fear raked its way through the young boy’s body, it was a foreign feeling that had been beaten out of him years ago.
And yet, as a bright streak of lightning danced its way across the visible skies he allowed himself to see, Dazai couldn’t help but twist his eyes shut and wait for the loud clap of thunder to inevitably follow it--where one goes the other follows. Wrapping his hands around their ears, Dazai curled into himself, hugging his legs close to his chest as the rubber mat underneath him squeaked, as thunder boomed across the skies.
As Dazai sat atop the mat, he blankly stared at the aloof doors to his shipping container--having left them open in order to prepare, just in case the container got struck--where water pooled in at the bottom of his mat.
A collection of thunder strikes echoed across Yokohama with a lottony of loud roars following behind it. The sounds only made them curl further against himself with a softened whimper, another clap echoed through the skies that sent actual tears cascading down their features.
The sound of crunching leaves and snapping sticks echoed from outside the container, only making Dazai curl further in on himself--too afraid of the electricity zapping through the air to reach for his gun--as another flash of lightning lit up the insides of the container he called home. A soft sob fell from his lips as a head popped through the opening created to watch the showers.
“Dazai-san?” the voice cautiously echoed as it moved closer, undeterred by the sight of the shaking mafioso and rattling container holding them hostage as the storm continued to rage around them. “Are you okay?”
“...Hirotsu?” he mumbled, slowly moving his head out from the depths of his knees in order to properly glance up at the new visitor encroaching on his space and blocking out his reference to the point of fear raging on outside. “Why are you here?”
“Do you really need to ask me that?” Hirotsu mumbled as he settled himself atop the rubber beside Dazai--the only thing keeping the boy safe from death as electrical charges danced across Yokohama. The older man sat himself in front of the child and slowly moved to strip off the coat clinging to his body in order to throw it towards the pile filled with wet clothes that were unlikely to dry anytime soon.
Abandoning his curled-up position, Dazai moved to curl up within the comfort of Hirotsu’s lap, allowing the older man to wrap his arms around them in an attempt to offer a singular small comfort they weren’t usually allowed to have. Mori told him years ago that it wasn’t befitting a Mafia executive to have such weak fears and be unable to manage them without the help of someone else to rely on.
Large hands moved up and down the shaking form nestled within their lap as Hirotsu attempted to calm the child down despite the echoing crackles of thunder still echoing around them. With another flash of lightning, Dazai allowed himself another moment as he whimpered into Hirotsu’s shoulder and curled himself deeper into the embrace. Settling within the warmth of a home he never knew while his fears surrounded him.
“You’re okay,” he shushed, “its all going to be okay.”