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power—everyone in the port mafia knows power is the ultimate goal. power over yokohama generally, but that power has always run much deeper than that—power started from the top and trickled its way down so that those at the bottom felt crushed by the weight of those above them.
that’s how it’s always worked in the mafie. hell, that’s how it’s always worked in the world.
power is what dazai has.
sure, he’s technically below mori in terms of the port mafia hierarchy, but power is what dazai truly has. perhaps the only thing he truly has. despite mori’s higher position, dazai still holds power over him. and therefore over everyone in the mafia.
sometimes it felt like a drag, like being held down by weighty chains that aren’t even yours.
but other times, it feels intoxicating. there’s nothing that gives dazai a more organic thrill than exercising his power. sure, drugs and booze were good supplements, but the power dazai wields is no supplement. it’s whole, it’s consuming. it’s everything.
the thing with power is that if someone holds and uses it, there is always a target. there is always someone with less power being reminded that, yes, they have power, but only because of those above them.
dazai is well aware of the power he has, and the way he uses it. usually for himself, usually to get some sort of thrill.
what he loathes, is people who have power, but not a clue in the world of how to use it. he hates people that are wasteful, people that can’t live up to the pressure that comes hand in hand with power.
perhaps that is the source of his contempt for akutagawa.
akutagawa, who had been given every tool and opportunity to be the demon’s prodigy’s very own prodigy. akutagawa, who, in dazai’s opinion, is an embarrassment to himself and the entire port mafia.
akutagawa didn’t have a clue how to use the power that had been given to him—the power that had been handed to him by dazai himself. it made dazai absolutely sick to see the pathetic displays of ‘power’ akutagawa would attempt. how could someone who’d been trained by him be so weak?
that disgust always seems to bubble in dazai’s stomach when he met with akutagawa. no matter what dazai tried to beat into his head, he couldn’t see akutagawa as anything other than a disappointment.
it didn’t matter if akutagawa had carried out a mission to near-perfection—in dazai’s eyes, anything other than pure, indisputable perfection was acceptable.
he feels the wave of disgust spark through his nearves as he winds his fist back to throw it into akutagawa’s face.
if akutagawa couldn’t even manage his level of power with perfection, dazai knew he was hopeless. what good are you to the port mafia if you make errors?
there’s usually only a few emotions dazai feels after his fist connects with akutagawa’s nose.
sometimes it is that intoxicating thrill he gets from being able to properly exercise his power over akutagawa. other times, it was apathy. if akutagawa couldn’t get it together, he’d face the consequences. simple as that—dazai didn’t need to overcomplicate anything in his mind.
and most rarely, there were times when a rigid terror would streak up dazai’s spine as the adrenaline faded away and he was left with a throbbing pain in his knuckles. it would overtake him when he least expected it, consuming that drunken state in an instant as he looked at akutagawa’s bloody, bruised face and saw himself.
he punished akutagawa the way he did because it’s what had made him… well, it’s what made dazai, dazai. he’s certain that without mori teaching him the same lessons dazai tried to teach akutagawa, and the same punishment for failures, akutagawa would never learn to be great.
he didn’t regret what he did, yet that horror filled him with nausea as akutagawa picks himself up from the floor, wiping the blood from his lips.
from the nausea stems an anger—an anger beyond whatever akutagawa had done to piss him off in the first place—an anger at himself for even thinking of being soft on his subordinate.
an anger that winds his arm back with a newfound power as he connects to akutagawa’s cheek bone. an anger that is, yet again, overtaken by the nausea and fear after his knuckles pull away, so he kicks. he tries to kick that feeling down as he kicks the air from akutagawa’s lungs.
he’d reclaim that intoxicating sensation if it killed him or akutagawa. he didn’t care, he needed to feel the strength he knew he had. the strength that he knew akutagawa didn't have.