Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the chilly, softly illuminated room of the Sheep's hideout, Shirase, a silver-haired young boy, stands at the center. His slender fingers skillfully twirl a knife, the blade reflecting slivers of light as it spins in an almost hypnotic rhythm. His eyes, piercing shades of grey, sweep across the assembled group.

“Last week, Akira had our backs, watching out for any of those bastards trying to trespass on our territory,” Shirase begins with cool determination in his voice. He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a folded paper which he swiftly unfolds. His eyes narrow slightly as he scans the written contents of the organization's weekly schedule. “This time around, it's going to be...”

Shirase pauses, his brows furrowing in concentration as he studies the paper more intently. “...[Your name].”

You meet Shirase's gaze with a steady nod of acknowledgment.

Shirase's grin widens. “We'll count on you, [Your name]!” His words carry both encouragement and a subtle expectation.

Yuan stands beside you, her vibrant pink hair a striking contrast against the muted tones of the surroundings. She gently taps your back, her smile warm and encouraging. “Good luck, [Your name]!” 

You respond with a grateful smile of your own, appreciating her reassuring presence. “I'll do my best.”

The rain drums a relentless rhythm on the pavement, each drop a percussion of its own in the stormy weather. Stepping outside into the downpour, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, blending with the cool, damp air. You pull up the hood of your jacket, already slick with water, and begin patrolling the territory, senses alert for any signs of intruders.

You belong to Sheep, a tight-knit group of delinquent youths who have created a haven to protect each other amidst the chaos of the city streets, which are ruled by the fearsome and ruthless underground criminal organization, Port Mafia.

Last week's news still reverberates through your thoughts like a haunting melody. The boss of the Port Mafia, that shadowy figure who looms over Yokohama like a malevolent deity, had enacted a ruthless decree. It was whispered among the alleys and shady corners of the city: all redheaded children were to be eradicated.

The reason—a childish prank gone horribly wrong, where a red-haired kid had dared to deface the Mafia boss's prized car with vulgar words.

The memory of that fateful act sends a shiver down your spine. The consequences were swift and merciless, a grim reminder of the power wielded by the criminal underworld.

In Sheep's sanctuary, where every face bears the scars of survival in Yokohama's unforgiving streets, the news has cast a shadow of dread over the usually spirited group.

Lost in thoughts of your patrolling duty and the Port Mafia, you realize you've wandered further than intended. It's then that you catch sight of a figure huddled in the rain, crouched and hugging their knees to their chest. They are completely drenched, seemingly unaware of the harsh weather.

Instinct urges you forward, your steps quickening as you approach cautiously. Droplets cascade from the edges of your hood, splashing onto the ground.

As you draw closer, you see it's a young boy, perhaps your age, with striking orange hair matted against his pale forehead. His sunken blue eyes meet yours briefly before darting away, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey.” you call out softly, your voice barely audible over the rain. He flinches slightly, but doesn't move.

You crouch down beside him, concern etching lines across your brow. His clothes cling to his shivering frame, revealing his painfully thin form.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, reaching out a hand but stopping short, unsure of his reaction.

He looks at you again, wariness and vulnerability flickering in his gaze.

Without hesitation, you shrug off your jacket and drape it over his shoulders, the fabric instantly absorbing more rain. He looks up at you with a surprised look.

“What are you doing here? Where are your parents?” you ask him, your voice tinged with concern, trying to pierce through the steady drumming of raindrops.

He simply stares at you, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

The rain continues to cascade around you both, filling the silence with its relentless patter.

You try again, your tone gentle yet insistent. “Can you tell me your name? Are you lost?” But still, he remains silent, his eyes now fixed on the ground, shoulders tense beneath your jacket.

Worry knots in your stomach as you consider his situation. His presence here, alone and vulnerable, stirs a protective instinct within you, heightened by the sense of responsibility that comes with being part of Sheep.

“Listen, it's not safe out here. Let me help you,” you urge softly, reaching out a hand to gently touch his arm.

This time, he flinches slightly at your touch, his gaze flickering up to meet yours briefly before dropping again.

You sit quietly beside him, waiting, hoping he might open up or give some clue to his circumstances.

What should I do?

“Umm...” you say, uncertainty lingering in your voice as you glance down at the shivering boy beside you, his eyes fixed on the wet pavement.

As if on cue, a voice calls out your name, followed by hurried footsteps. You instinctively turn your head to follow the sound.

Shirase, together with other Sheep members, hurries towards you, sheltering under an umbrella against the pouring rain.

“Seriously, where have you been?! We were worried because you didn't come back—” Shirase's words catch abruptly in his throat as he sees the boy beside you, his expression shifting from concern to surprise.

The boy remains silent, withdrawn into himself, showing no acknowledgment of Shirase's arrival.

“Shirase-kun... I think we should help him...” you begin to suggest, starting to rise from your crouched position. But before you can fully stand, the boy reaches out and grips your hand, his eyes meeting yours.

You blink in surprise at the unexpected touch, then turn back to Shirase with determination. “I think he's starving. Let's take him in.” you say firmly.

Shirase hesitates for a moment, exchanging a quick glance with the others under the umbrella. Without another word, he nods in agreement.

Together, you carefully help the boy to his feet, supporting him between you as you guide him towards shelter.

The rain continues to fall around you, but now there's a shared purpose among the members of Sheep— a commitment to protect, to support, and to provide sanctuary, even in the midst of a storm.

You and the boy simultaneously let out a sneeze, a reflection of the chill still clinging to your wet clothes.

Yuan appears beside you with a large towel, swiftly wrapping it around both of you.

“Geez, [Your name]. We were really worried.” she chides gently, her concern visible as she fusses over making sure you're both dried off.

You scratch your head sheepishly. “I'm sorry. I was just... you know, patrolling our area.”

Yuan responds with a slight pout, her worry fading into relief mixed with a hint of exasperation. “You were spacing out again, aren't you?”

You chuckle, the sound filled with a hint of guilt as you meet her gaze briefly before looking away. 

She turns to Shirase, who retrieves a loaf of bread from a nearby cabinet, offering a slice to the boy who watches him with wide eyes, a blend of curiosity and caution.

Hesitantly, the boy reaches out his small hands to accept the offering, uncertainty flickering across his features.

Glancing towards you for guidance, he finds you making a subtle gesture, mimicking eating to convey that the bread is food. Slowly, he mimics your action, tentatively bringing the bread to his lips. As he bites into it, his expression shifts from wary to surprised delight.

Around the room, eyes follow the scene with curiosity. The others, gathered in the cozy space, lean in slightly, their expressions ranging from worry to intrigue.

“Look at his arms. He's so thin...”

“Yeah. Probably not eatin' for weeks.”

“Hey, what's your name?” Shirase asks, leaning in with genuine curiosity etched on his face.

He looks over at you, even though Shirase is the one posing the question. “Chuuya.” he responds quietly.

“Oh, so he can talk!” Yuan exclaims in awe, her eyes wide with surprise. “Nice to meet you, Chuuya! I'm Yuan.”

Chuuya pays no attention to her excitement, his focus unwaveringly on you.

Her awe quickly transforms into a slight pout. “Can he even hear me? Hello?” She waves a hand in front of his face to gain his attention. “I'm right over here, Chuuya.”

You chuckle at her playful frustration and meet Chuuya's intense gaze. “Nice to meet you, Chuuya-kun. My name is [Your name].” you say warmly, offering him a reassuring smile.

Chuuya continues to study your face, his expression guarded yet curious. Slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips in response to your warmth.

Shirase leans closer, whispering to you with a mischievous grin. “Oh. I think he likes you, [Your name].”

You playfully nudge his shoulder, feigning annoyance. “Quit it.” you reply, though your own smile betrays your amusement.

After that fateful encounter, Chuuya immediately joined the Sheep.

Several months afterward, having spent a considerable amount of time with him, you discovered that he's an ability user.

Shirase's eyes widen in disbelief as he watches Chuuya calmly walking upside down on the ceiling, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“What the heck, Chuuya! How did ya even do that?”

You study Chuuya with focus and pride before turning to Shirase with a confident grin. “It seems like Chuuya-kun is an ability user! This is my first time meeting one.”

Shirase stares at you, his disbelief evident. “An ability user? What's that?”

You gesture towards Chuuya. “Someone like him— a person with supernatural powers.”

Chuuya gracefully lands beside you, his movements fluid and controlled. “Where did you find out about this stuff, [Your name]?”

You pause thoughtfully. “I read about it in a book. It's fascinating because Chuuya-kun can manipulate gravity.”

Shirase, now in awe, gazes at Chuuya with newfound respect. “He can manipulate gravity? Dude, that's so freaking cool!”

Chuuya simply shrugs nonchalantly in response.

Shirase immediately gathers all the Sheep members into a tight circle, motioning for you and Chuuya to join.

“Listen, everyone!” Shirase announces loudly, commanding the group's attention. “Chuuya is an ability user! He can manipulate gravity, to be exact!”

A collective gasp of awe ripples through the gathered crowd. Whispers flutter like leaves in the wind, eyes widening with wonder as they turn to observe Chuuya.

“An ability user?”

“Chuuya can manipulate gravity?”

“Is that even possible?”

Shirase folds his arms confidently across his chest, a sense of authority in his stance. “Should we make Chuuya our leader?”

You blink in surprise at Shirase's proposal, turning to Chuuya whose brows furrow slightly in contemplation.

“Um, everyone,” you interject hesitantly. “I think we should ask Chuuya-kun first.”

Shirase lets out an impatient groan directed at you before turning to Chuuya. “Is that fine with you, Chuuya?”

Chuuya responds with a nod. “Fine by me.”

Shirase beams at Chuuya's agreement then pivots to face the rest of the members. “How about ya guys?”

In a synchronized chorus, the members of Sheep respond, their voices overlapping with agreement to Shirase's proposal.

The circle tightens as nods and murmurs of support fill the air, each member displaying respect and confidence in Chuuya's newfound role.

Years after joining and becoming its leader, the Sheep now stands as one of Yokohama's most powerful support organizations.

The organization strictly adhere to defensive and nonviolent methods, yet few dare to challenge them. The reason is clear: anyone who steps on their territory faces severe consequences.

And the one who makes them pay is none other than the Sheep's leader himself.

The leader, Nakahara Chuuya, never attempted to conceal his true powers from his comrades.

As for you, you watch in awe as he effortlessly manipulates gravity, making your tasks significantly easier.

Turning to you with a wide grin, Chuuya extends his hand. “Ya wanna try?” he offers.

Blinking in surprise, you hesitate for a moment before accepting his hand. A bright orange light envelops your body, and you feel yourself becoming lighter, slowly lifting off the ground.

A wide smile spreads across your face as you experience the strange sensation. “Wow... this is so cool, Chuuya-kun!”

Chuuya beams at your delight, momentarily captivated by your joy. Lost in the moment, he forgets to maintain control, and suddenly you collide with the ceiling with a resounding thud.

“Ack!” you cry out in pain as the orange light fades, causing you to plummet downwards. “Wait wait wait AAAAHHHHHH!!! Chuuya-kun!!!”

Chuuya's eyes widen in disbelief as he rushes towards you, sliding to the ground just in time to catch you.

Your heart races as you look up at him, your face a mixture of shock and amusement.

Chuuya opens his mouth, burying his head against the curve of your neck. “What the fuck! I'm sorry, [Your name]... I got distracted, that's all.”

The absurdity of the situation overwhelms you, and laughter bubbles up uncontrollably. Leaning against Chuuya's chest, you laugh wholeheartedly. “Hahaha! That was scary!”

Chuuya groans softly, still holding you close. “It's not funny, you dummy. That was really dangerous.”

Wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, you tilt your head back to meet Chuuya's gaze. “Nah, you will always be there to save me, right?”

Chuuya sighs softly, a hint of exasperation in his expression. “Of course. What kind of question is that?”

Yuan strides over to where you and Chuuya stand, her hand resting casually on her hip as she looks down at both of you.

“Are you guys done being all lovey-dovey?” she teases, a playful glint in her eye.

You shoot her a  glare, but she just chuckles.

“It's your turn, [Your name]. Shougo's done with his round.”

You nod in understanding and rise to your feet. Chuuya stands beside you, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his biker jacket.

“I'm going with you.” he states confidently.

Yuan raises an eyebrow, a touch of skepticism in her voice. “No need, Chuuya. She's just going to patrol the area like the usual, nothing dangerous.”

Ignoring Yuan's protest, Chuuya starts walking ahead. You glance at Yuan with a sheepish grin, silently seeking approval.

She rolls her eyes in mock exasperation and makes a dismissive “whatever, go ahead” gesture. Taking her cue, you nod gratefully and quickly catch up to walk closely beside Chuuya.

As you and Chuuya patrol together, you sneak a quick look at him.

A gentle breeze caresses your face, bringing the subtle aroma of pine.

The night sky stretches above filled with countless of stars, glinting in the darkness.

Eventually, you break the serene silence with a soft-spoken remark.

“Chuuya-kun... I know you've been struggling with the responsibilities of leadership.”

Chuuya halts in his tracks, turning to face you with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“We rely on you too much,” you continue, your fingers unconsciously tracing the blue band on your wrist— a symbol of your affiliation with the Sheep.

“I apologize for carrying that burden. Years ago, you mentioned to me that you wanted to uncover your origins. I've always wondered why you were alone in the heart of the rain eight years ago, not just me but the Sheep as well.”

Chuuya remains silent, prompting you to press on.

“We're holding you back from your true mission— to discover the truth about your past.”

After a moment's pause, Chuuya responds, his voice firm and resolute. “The Sheep cannot survive without me, [Your name]. I've said this before. If someone has the power to help, they must bear that responsibility. I am committed to fulfilling that duty.”

Your expression is etched with concern as you lock eyes with Chuuya. “If you say so...” you continue walking ahead but pause abruptly, turning to face him once more.

“I just want you to know, if you ever choose to leave us, I'll understand. I'll always understand, Chuuya-kun.” you say, offering him a reassuring smile.

Chuuya's reaction is immediate, his mouth slightly dropping open in surprise. 

“And I will always be there to support your decisions.” you declare, taking a step closer and extending your pinky finger towards him.

Chuuya's gaze softens as he meets your gesture, raising his own pinky finger in a silent promise.

“One thing's for certain, I will not leave you guys.”

Shirase leads the group with a mischievous grin, guiding you all onto the desolate road by the factory across the river.

“Hey, guys! I found a really cool place to snag some booze!” his voice rings out, filled with excitement and rebellion.

An excited gasp escapes Akira's lips. Her eyes light up with curiosity and anticipation. “Really?” she asks eagerly.

Shirase nods proudly. “Yep. Let's just be careful so we don't get caught.”

Your brow furrows with concern, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach. You turn to Shirase. “Shirase-kun, did Chuuya-kun even know about this? What did he say?”

Shirase shrugs nonchalantly, brushing off your concern with a wave of his hand. “Nah, he wouldn't mind. For now, let's just focus, yeah?” His words carry a hint of dismissal, as if the potential consequences are a distant concern compared to the thrill of the moment.

You hesitantly say, “But... we're dangerously close to the Port Mafia headquarters. It's like we're asking to get kidnapped.”

“Nah, don't worry, [Your name]! Chuuya will come and rescue us if anything happens. You, of all people, already know that.”

You freeze in your tracks, your worry intensifying. “But... Chuuya-kun's busy with the investigation of Araha—” Before you can finish, a hand swiftly clamps over your mouth, cutting off your words.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as panic sets in. Instinctively, you attempt to kick the man in the shin, but your action halts abruptly when a gun is pressed against your temple.

You helplessly watch as your comrades are surrounded by a ring of men dressed in sleek black suits and dark sunglasses.

Your eyes dart around frantically, searching for any sign of Shirase and Yuan, but they're nowhere to be seen; they must have found a place to hide. Defeated, you close your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts.

Akira, Shougo, and the other Sheep members' faces are twisted with fear, mirroring your own apprehension.

A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair steps forward, his gaze sweeping over your group. “The Sheep, huh?” His eyes lock onto yours. “Where's your king?”

You freeze at the mention of Chuuya and avoid his penetrating stare. He notices your reaction and moves closer to you.

“You there, child. What's your name?” he asks, crouching down to your eye level.

You meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to answer.

He sighs, withdrawing momentarily before pulling out a gun and aiming it at your head. “Let me ask again, where's your king?”

Fear courses through your body, causing you to shiver involuntarily, but you fight to maintain your composure.

You vividly recall Chuuya's words from that morning, his head resting in your lap as he absentmindedly played with your hair.

“[Your name], I'll tell you ahead. I won't be back until tomorrow.”

Confused, you inquire. “Why? You've got something important to do?”

“I'm going to investigate Arahabaki.” he replies calmly.

Arahabaki? It's the first time Chuuya has shown such determination to explore something outside of his responsibilities to the Sheep, and a swell of happiness warms your heart.

“I see. Just be careful, Chuuya-kun.”

Chuuya scoffs playfully, lightly tugging at your hair. “That's my line, dummy. Don't do something reckless while I'm not around, got it?”

“Yup. You can trust us while you're not around.”

Damn it, screw that trust because now all of us are surrounded by the Port Mafia—all because of booze. Shirase-kun, you big idiot!

You take a deep breath to calm your growing nerves. The man patiently waits for an answer, and your response is a smirk accompanied by a defiant gesture with your middle finger— a small act of rebellion and courage in the face of danger.

“I see.” he murmurs coldly, his finger tightening on the trigger. Before he can act, a panicked voice from one of the Sheep members interrupts.

“Chuuya's not here with us! He's out there... investigating something called Arahabaki!”

You turn to them in disbelief, but they shake their heads in resignation.

“Arahabaki?” The man muses quietly to himself, then turns to his subordinates. “Take them to headquarters. We'll use them as bait to lure out their king.”

The men in black nod in acknowledgment, their grip on your arm tightening painfully as they begin to drag you away.

“Let go of me!” you cry out in desperation, struggling against their hold. “Let go of me!”

The cold, oppressive atmosphere of the Port Mafia's basement bears down heavily on you and the other captured Sheep members. Each of you is held in separate cells, amplifying the sense of isolation and helplessness.

Hours drag by like eternity as you futilely shake the sturdy bars of your cell, driven by frustration and fear.

“Fuck!!!” Your voice echoes off the walls as you scream in frustration, rattling the metallic bars with all your might. “Get me outta here, damn it!”

Desperately scanning your surroundings for anything that could aid your escape, you find nothing but the bare essentials— a solitary bed in the corner.

“Argh... I warned you all... but you guys wouldn't listen to me! Damn it!” Tears threaten to spill as you shout, the weight of the situation crushing down on you.

Footsteps approach from down the corridor, snapping your attention.

You spring to your feet and press your face against the cold bars, straining to see who approaches.

A boy with disheveled dark brown hair and bandages over his right eye and neck appears before you.

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, quickly morphing into pure disdain. “Huh?”

His expression shifts from boredom to surprise at the sight of you. “Oh.”

“It's you!” both of you blurt out in unison.

He steps closer, and instinctively, you lean back from the bars.

“It's you... What are you doing here?” His gaze falls on the blue band on your wrist, and he chuckles softly. “Ah, I see.”

“That's my question. What are you doing here? I thought you were floating down the river.” you retort sharply, keeping your distance and evading his attempt to touch you.

He chuckles again, seemingly amused by your reaction. His hand lingers in the air before he withdraws it slowly.

“What's your name again?”

You ignore his question and quickly scan the area to confirm he's alone. Breathing a sigh of relief when you see no one else with him, you press your face against the cold, unforgiving bars of your cell. “Hey, get me out of here.” you demand.

He blinks in mild surprise at your straightforward request, tilting his head curiously. “Eh? Why should I?” he asks.

You almost glare at him, but you catch yourself. “I don't know. Does that even matter? Just help me get out of here.”

He hums thoughtfully, pretending to consider your plea before nodding with mock sincerity. “Hmm... Okay! I have the keys right here.” he says, patting his pockets with a playful smirk.

The faint jingle of keys reaches your ears.

“...Really?” Hope flares in your chest at his words, relief evident on your face.

He chuckles softly, his smirk widening. ”As if I'll help you, idiot. I'm from the Port Mafia.” he retorts teasingly, sticking his tongue out in jest.

You grit your teeth in anger, making a move to punch him. However, he effortlessly dodges your attempt with a carefree laugh.

“...You!” Your frustration boils over, your hand hovering in mid-air, itching to strike.

He laughs again, unexpectedly taking your hand in his own. Goosebumps ripple down your spine at his touch. “Ugh, let go!” You try to pull your hand away, but his grip only tightens.

With a firm tug, he yanks your hand toward him, causing you to stumble forward slightly, off-balance. “Let's make a deal.” he says, his piercing dark brown eyes gleaming with a sinister light. “If you tell me where Nakahara Chuuya is, I'll let you go.”

You meet his gaze steadily, sizing him up before letting out a resigned sigh. “Fine. Deal. Just promise me that you'll get me out of here.”

He nods. Motioning for him to lean closer, you wait until he hesitates and leans in, then swiftly use your free hand to deliver a solid punch to his face.

The impact lands with a satisfying thud, sending him crashing against the wall.

He groans softly, rubbing his cheek in pain. “Ouch... that hurts!”

You stand over him, a triumphant smirk playing on your lips as you echo his earlier words back to him. “As if I'll help you, idiot. I'm from the Sheep. Why the hell would I betray my comrades over a stupid kid with bandages?”

He gawks at you, his eyes widening in disbelief and a hint of admiration. Slowly, he staggers to his feet, his movements unsteady and uncertain, like a puppet finding its balance.

“Wow... you know, I think this must be fate.”

You scoff at his words. “Shut up. You planned this all along.”

He blinks at you, his expression caught between surprise and suspicion. There's a subtle shift on his face as he asks, “How can you say that?”

Your eyes narrow, sharp as you study his reaction closely. “You set those traps. Snag some booze, my ass. The place itself was dangerously close to your headquarters. You initiated this abduction plan, using us as a bait to lure Chuuya-kun. Newsflash, you won't get anything from me.”

His eyes widen, a flicker of realization crossing his features before he composes himself. “And you, foolish Sheep, took that bait without hesitation.”

You gesture in a so-so manner. “I warned them but they wouldn't listen to me.”

He smirks condescendingly, his eyes narrowing as if relishing in his own superiority. “Well, that makes sense. Who would want to listen to someone like you anyway?”

You meet his gaze with a smirk of your own, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes. Your lips curl with satisfaction and there's a subtle defiance in your posture. “You're saying all that shit but don't forget. The Port Mafia's in shambles now due to the combined rumors of the Port Mafia's former boss returning and Arahabaki's legend,” you retort, your voice carrying a mocking tone.

“Not just that, your weapon smugglers are two weeks behind schedule. It also seems like with the escalating violence going around, you're close to losing contracts for your protection business.”

You flash a confident smile at him. “I feel sorry for you guys but that's life. Hahaha! Serves you right.”

He steps forward, closing the distance between you. His gaze intensifies, assessing and calculating, trying to gauge your motives. “Huh. You sure know a lot of our stuff for someone who's part of that organization.” 

You simply shrug your shoulders. “Of course. I have my ways, and we're not as stupid and outdated as you think, duh.”

He wants to say, “But you're only a bunch of kids with weapons.” but decides not to.

His initial assessment gives way to a sudden change in demeanor. His eyebrows shoot up in exaggerated shock, and he covers his mouth dramatically with one hand. “Oh my... don't tell me... you're stalking me?”

Before you can even react, his words strike like a lightning bolt, leaving you momentarily speechless. His proud look, smug and self-assured, cuts through the air like a knife.

You want to grab that imaginary stupid knife and stab yourself after hearing the words that came out of his mouth.

“Sheesh. I knew it,” he declares. “I know you're secretly in love with me.” He raises an index finger in the air, exuding an insane amount of confidence. “And couldn't get over the time I rejected your proposal to join your organization. But stalking me? That's clearly out of line!”

He scratches his head and offers you a sheepish smile. “I'm impressed.”

The heavy accusation disgusts you to the core, and you let out a noise of disdain.

You repeatedly rub your arms with your hands to get rid of the chills that run through your body. “Ew! Gross! That's disgusting!”

His sheepish smile immediately contorts into a pout after hearing your exclamation.

“Why would I...” The mere thought makes your stomach churn. “Listen, you arrogant piece of shit, I'm not going to waste my precious time stalking someone like you!”

He begins to speak, but his words are cut off by another voice.

The middle-aged man you encountered earlier stands beside him, diverting his attention.

“Dazai-san, we've received information on the King of the Sheep's whereabouts.”

The boy, Dazai, nods in acknowledgment. The man glances briefly at you before turning away.

Dazai shifts his gaze back to you, a faint, knowing smile curling his lips. He waves a hand casually. “I'll pay you a visit again soon. Wait for me, okay? Oh, right. You can't do anything but wait anyway. Hahaha!”

You give him the middle finger, and he sticks his tongue out in response.

The door shuts with a resounding thud.

You release a frustrated sigh, looking around the cell once more. “Now that the weirdo is out of sight, I've got to find a way out of here.”

Chapter Text

Frustration is evident in your expression, reflected in the crease of your forehead as you pace restlessly with footsteps muted against the stone floor, your eyes flicking around the cramped space. Your mind is consumed with the pressing need to find an exit, meticulously inspecting each corner for a possible route out.

You cautiously lean your face against the cold bars, scanning the darkened corridor beyond with exaggerated caution. Anxiety tingles through your senses as you search for any indication of movement or hidden threat.

A tense moment passes, the silence broken only by the faint hum of water droplets echoing in the distance.

Finally convinced you're alone, a wave of relief washes over you. You exhale slowly, a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, and carefully retrieve a paperclip hidden in the recesses of your chest area. It's a small tool, unremarkable yet potentially invaluable in this desperate situation.

Desperate times call for desperate measures! I'm done playing around.

The memory of how the stupid and ruthless Port Mafia agents had thrown you into this cramped cell floods back. They had confiscated everything— weapons, gadgets, even personal items that could aid in an escape. But they hadn't counted on your resourcefulness.

You begin to work the paperclip with steady hands, bending and twisting it; the metal protests quietly under your touch. Suddenly, footsteps echo down the corridor; your blood turns cold as you freeze, immediately halting your attempts to pick the lock.

In a heartbeat, you straighten your posture, trying to appear nonchalant despite the racing of your heart.

Your lips move with practiced precision, weaving passages from a book you read years ago into a veil of innocence that conceals your true intent. You steal a glance at the approaching figure, your heart quickening with each passing moment.

The urgency in your movements betrays the facade of nonchalance you strive to maintain. “Is it painful to be the person who waits?” you continue, your hands raised in the air as if sculpting the sentiment of the passage into existence.

“Or is it more painful to be the person who makes others wait? Either way, there's no need to wait anymore. That's what is most painful.”

As the last syllable hangs in the air, a familiar figure, one you despised the most, steps into view.

Dazai stands before you with an arched brow, amusement flickering in his gaze like a playful flame.

You halt mid-chant, irritation flickering across your features as you turn to face him. Dazai's unwelcome presence adds another layer of complexity to your carefully orchestrated plan to escape.

“Well, well.” he muses, his voice lilting with a hint of amusement. “Reciting literature to pass the time, are we? I didn't know you could read.”

Your jaw subtly clenches, hidden frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as you carefully consider your response.

Dazai's sharp intellect and uncanny ability to read between the lines make him both an ally and a formidable opponent— a double-edged sword in the intricate dance of deception. You met him a few years ago, which is why you wanted him to join the Sheep.

“I prefer not to be interrupted. And yes, I can read, you animal.” you retort coolly.

Dazai's smile broadens as he steps closer. “Ah, but interruptions can lead to the most interesting conversations,” he remarks. “Those passages you cited from 'Run, Melos!'— are those meant for me?” His finger points casually to himself, his gaze locked onto yours with a mix of intrigue and sly curiosity.

Your face twists into a sour expression, as if you've just tasted something bitter and unexpected. “You... where did you get such horrifying ideas? You're creeping me out.”

Dazai bursts into laughter at your reaction, his amusement unabashed. “I mean, I told you to wait for me, didn't I?”

Goosebumps ripple across your skin, an unpleasant sensation running down your spine. “Gross! I like that book, so it's natural for me to cite it to pass my boredom.”

“Ha-ha-ha!” Dazai chuckles, a playful glint in his eyes. “But of all, you really had to choose those lines?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, teasingly.

There's no point arguing with him. Every word seems to fuel his amusement, and you can almost feel his satisfaction at provoking your reaction. 

“You are one disgusting creature,” you declare, your voice cracking with disbelief and seething disdain. The words spill out, filled with venom, as you struggle to contain your rising anger. “Your confidence is too much, and the very sight of you makes me puke.”

Dazai's response is infuriatingly predictable yet maddeningly effective. He tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as if your outburst is an expected and welcomed entertainment. His eyes, cool and mischievous, seem to drink in your reaction with satisfaction.

His annoying ability to turn even the most serious moments into a theatrical performance never fails to infuriate you. He feigns hurt, a masterful performance of mock indignation, his features contorting into an exaggerated expression of melodramatic pouting.

It's a calculated move to push your buttons, and it's working.

“Are all Sheep members this mean?” he teases, his voice loaded with playful mockery, as if testing how far he can push before you break.

“Fuck. Why are you here?” you snap, unable to contain the edge in your voice. “If you're not going to get me out of here, get out of my sight.”

For a brief moment, irritation flashes across Dazai's expression. “If you're going to keep that bratty attitude of yours, I'll gladly enter your cell and annoy you to death.”

The mere threat makes you shiver with disgust, and a grimace twists your features. “Yeah, you do that and I will kick your ass.”

“We captured your king.” Dazai leans his back against the wall. “He's out there, talking with Mori-san,” he states lazily, then adds, “Thanks to him, I got injured pretty badly.” raising his slinged hand slightly.

Your expression shifts from worry at his news to pride as you gaze at his injury. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, admiration sparkling in your eyes as you cross your arms. “Huh. Chuuya-kun's incredibly strong, isn't he?”

Dazai studies your reaction intently, his expression transitioning from curiosity to something sour, as though he's just swallowed a hundred bees.

His words come out casually, yet they carry a heavy pressure that abruptly wipes the smile off your face.

“You like Chuuya.”

The directness of his statement catches you off guard. You turn away, your voice firm but tinged with defensiveness.

“No, I don't.”

Dazai tilts his head slightly to the side, a faint hum of amusement escaping his lips as he considers your denial. “Yeah, you do. And I'm going to tell him now.”

Your body tenses involuntarily, but you try to maintain an air of nonchalance. “No, you won't.”

You hear footsteps fading away, and you whip around to face him, but he's already gone. You squeeze your face against the cold iron bars of your cell, straining to catch a glimpse of Dazai as he strides down the dimly lit corridor. 

The urgency in your voice betrays your concern as you shout after him, your words echoing off the stone walls.

“Where are you going?!”

Dazai pauses, his figure silhouetted against the distant glow of a flickering light. “Mori-san's office.”

Your grip tightens on the metal bars, a pang of anxiety shooting through you. “Is Chuuya-kun in there?”

A smirk curls Dazai's lips, his tone carrying a hint of malice. “Yeah. And it's a good time for me to tell him.”

Frustration boils over as you rattle the bars of your cell. “Don't you dare! I will kill you!”

Dazai's laughter echoes down the corridor, mocking and distant, as he continues on his way, disappearing around a corner.

 “Ha-ha-ha! See ya!”

You retrieve the paperclip from your pocket, hands moving swiftly despite the tension in your muscles. Pressing it against the lock, you twist and turn with expertful accuracy.

Each small adjustment is met with a faint click, the metal yielding softly to your manipulation. Finally, a subtle click breaks the silence, and you carefully push open the creaking door.

You step out into the corridor, eyes scanning for any sign of movement or danger. The thought of intercepting Dazai fuels your every step. You're driven by determination and desperation, fueled by the urgency to murder him before he reaches Chuuya with whatever dangerous information he holds.

Turning a corner, you collide with a member of the Port Mafia. His grip on your wrist is firm, his stern expression betraying no hint of sympathy.

“Where are you going, you brat?!”

Fear washes over you, and you instinctively try to break free, panic rising with every second his fingers dig into your skin. “No...! Let go of me!”

But his hold tightens, unyielding and powerful, pulling you back with a force that sends a jolt of dread through your veins.

Your heart pounds fiercely against your ribs, each futile attempt to escape only increasing your desperation. “Let go! Let go of me!”

He reaches into his pocket, extracting a communicator. His voice is clipped as he speaks into it, his attention never leaving you. “Dazai-san's information is true. The prisoner escaped. Guard the other prisoners properly.”

Damn it... Dazai!

You bow your head in defeat. Just as you resign yourself to your fate of returning to the cold and unforgiving cell, a sudden burst of silver light shimmers into existence. The dimly lit corridor is briefly illuminated, casting reflections on the damp walls.

The man who moments ago was relentless in dragging you comes to an abrupt halt, his grip on your arm loosening slightly.

Your heart quickens with uncertainty as you cautiously lift your gaze to meet his, silently questioning this unforeseen turn of events.

“Did you see that light? What's that about?” Your voice breaks the heavy silence.

No response. 

Drips of blood fall from your face, and you recoil in horror.

With a sickening thud, his body hits the ground. Your fear shifts to confusion as you look down at your arm and notice a scythe-like blade extending from it, stained with crimson blood.

“Aaah! What the hell?! Did I just−” Your eyes flicker from the blade protruding from your arm to the lifeless man lying down.

Footsteps echo down the narrow corridor, growing louder and more urgent with each passing second. Your heart lurches as you turn to see a swarm of Port Mafia agents charging towards you, each wielding a gun, their expressions grim and determined.

“Don't let that brat get away!”

Panic seizes you, but before you can even react, long, razor-sharp blades materialize from your back. With a surreal and terrifying grace, the blades extend swiftly, slicing through the air and cutting down everything in their path.

The metallic clang of weapons meeting flesh fills the air, accompanied by shouts and cries.

You stand frozen in horror, unable to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before you. The blades move with a deadly efficiency, leaving a trail of blood.

“What... what the hell!” Your voice is filled with disbelief and panic as you shake your arm frantically, trying to remove the scythe blade that seems embedded in your flesh.

Pain flares up, sharp and insistent, as you struggle against the bizarre manifestation of your ability— a power that seems to have a mind of its own. With a trembling hand, you reach behind, feeling the unnerving presence of more blades emerging from your own body.

“Go away!” Desperation fills your voice as you beg for relief from the protruding blades. Yet, there is no escape, no respite from the relentless onslaught of your own ability. “Shit.. they won't go away...!”

What should I do? They won't go back... and it hurts! What should I do? What if they won't disappear?!

Your thoughts start spiraling from fear of your newly activated ability, but Chuuya's face flashes through your mind.

The harsh reality of your abduction and the dangerous predicament facing you and your Sheep companions pull you back to the grim present.

“Wait. I don't have time for this! I need to find Chuuya-kun first.” You shake off the distraction and break into a sprint, your footsteps echoing down the now-empty corridor.

After roaming around, you find the exit and start navigating through the rooms littered on every floor of the Port Mafia headquarters. As you frantically search for the Port Mafia boss's office, bodies of fallen enemies lie strewn in your path.

Each pace is thick with anxiety and danger as your ability reacts instinctively, slicing through anything that poses a threat with deadly precision.

Finally, you spot an elevator at the end of the hallway and rush towards it, your pulse pounding in your ears.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft hiss. Stepping inside, your gaze flickers to the control panel, fingers hovering uncertainly over the buttons.

You press the button with the highest number and as the elevator begins its steady ascent, you lean back against the cool, smooth glass wall.

Immediately, a grimace twists your features at the metallic clink of the blades embedded in your back and the faint scrape of glass.

“Ugh... that doesn't sound pleasant at all.” you pull away, staring down at the floor with furrowed brows.

While you wait to arrive at your destination, overflowing thoughts whirl in your mind, pondering the Mafia's intentions towards Chuuya and the Sheep.

What if they're aware of Chuuya's investigation of Arahabaki? What if they used that knowledge to lure him? And now, the Sheep are wrapped in the hands of the Mafia.

Wait. What if... what if their goal is to form an alliance with Chuuya? But for what reason?

You vigorously shake your head, forcefully pushing aside the unsettling possibility.

No way, no way.

Chuuya despises the Mafia. He would never agree.

The realization of the Sheep's abduction freezes you in place. “Shit. He probably has no choice now that we're at the mercy of the enemy.” A curse slips from your lips in a hushed whisper, heavy with resignation and the bitter taste of defeat. 

The soft hum of the elevator signals your arrival at the highest floor. Stepping out cautiously, your eyes narrow as you're met with the chilling sight of Port Mafia agents, their guns trained on you.

You move forward with a grimace, uneasiness etched on your face as blood splatters on the walls and heads, severed and lifeless, lie scattered on the carpeted floor.

You now stand before the intimidating door of the Port Mafia boss's office. With a deep, shaky breath, you attempt to steady your nerves, your hands trembling at your sides. Steeling yourself, you push open the door.

Inside the office, Dazai and Chuuya stand at the center of the room, with the imposing figure of the Port Mafia boss.

The morning sunlight filters through the glass windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor.

You blink, briefly taken aback by the unexpected sight. Dazai's posture is relaxed yet alert, his gaze sharp and calculating. Chuuya, beside him, exudes an aura of controlled aggression, his muscles tensed as if coiled for action.

The Port Mafia boss stands to their side, a formidable presence exuding authority and menace.

Dazai blinks in surprise, his eyes widening as his brows arch upward in disbelief. His lips part slightly, a hint of confusion mingling with intrigue as he leans forward ever so slightly, as if drawn into the unexpected revelation of your ability. “Oh?”

“[Your name]?” Chuuya's voice croaks as he sees you, his eyes widening with astonishment and concern. They flicker to the blades on your body, a clear sign of the danger you might pose. “What the heck?”

You exhale with relief, tears welling at the corners of your eyes as you catch sight of Chuuya across the room.

“Chuuya-kun!!” you cry out, desperation and joy mingling in your voice. Your heart races as you rush towards him.

But before you can reach Chuuya, Dazai appears like a shadow, intercepting your path with deliberate grace. He moves like the wind, blocking you with an outstretched arm. “WAAAAAH, [Your name]-chan!”

In a surprising twist, Dazai suddenly tackles you to the ground, and both of you crash down with a heavy thud that echoes in the tense silence. The impact knocks the breath out of you, but before rage can set in, something unexpected happens.

The moment Dazai makes contact with you, a surge of blue light emanates from your body, accompanied by a gentle hum. The blades that had adorned you just moments ago vanish into nothingness, leaving you stunned and breathless, unsure of what just happened but relieved to find yourself free from their eerie presence.

Dazai smirk as he gazes down at you, tousled dark brown hair frames his face in soft waves. His presence exudes a casual confidence, as if he holds all the cards in a game you didn't even know you were playing. “What an intense bloodlust you've got there. I thought someone from the other opposing organizations infiltrated us.”

You gaze up at him, astonishment clear in your expression. “The blades... they're gone. I can't feel them anymore.”

Dazai's smirk only deepens, and he leans closer, the playful glint in his eyes are back. With a flick of his fingers, he lightly taps your nose, a gesture that feels both mocking and strangely gentle.

“It's called No Longer Human,” he boasts proudly. “I can nullify all abilities.”

Before you can respond, Chuuya intervenes. He snatches Dazai by the collar with a fierce growl, pulling him away from you. Dazai's protests are drowned out by Chuuya's action as he moves to shield you protectively, lifting you off the ground in a swift, protective motion.

“Get the fuck away from her, shitty Dazai.” Chuuya growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Dazai, now slightly disheveled from Chuuya's grip, looks momentarily surprised before his smirk returns. He straightens his collar.

“Aww, why so mean, Chuuya?” he drawls, his gaze shifting to Chuuya, holding a lazy yet knowing edge. “I helped her, ya know,” he continues. “Nullifying her ability. [Your name]-chan seems to have no control over it.”

Chuuya's expression darkens further at Dazai's words, his grip on you tightening. He squares his shoulders defiantly, a silent declaration against Dazai's manipulative games.

The Port Mafia boss, Mori Ougai's presence commands the room as he clears his throat, the sound echoing with authority.

You startle slightly beside Chuuya, instinctively seeking refuge from Mori's piercing gaze.

Mori's eyes scan between Dazai and Chuuya. “As we discussed earlier, you two may go now.” he declares, his voice carrying a tone that allows no argument. “Get along. That's an order.”

A faint ripple of tension drifts through the air at his words, a silent reminder of the consequences for disobedience under his rule. His smile, though mild, holds a subtle edge that sends an invisible chill through the room, freezing even the most casual of movements.

Your fingers tighten around Chuuya's arm, finding reassurance in his steadying presence. Mori's gaze, sharp and assessing, flickers towards you before returning to Dazai and Chuuya.

“So, do you understand?” Mori's voice cuts through the silence, his words carrying a weight that demands acknowledgment.

Silence.

“Do you understand?” he repeats, his tone unwavering.

“...Yes.” Dazai and Chuuya finally responds.

You look up at Chuuya, your eyes wide with concern and confusion, but all he offers in return is a resigned shake of his head. His grasp on your hand tightens as he begins to walk away, silently urging you to stay by his side. 

But Mori's voice interrupts, authoritative yet calm. “Chuuya-kun. You can't take her with you.”

Chuuya halts in his steps, turning sharply to face Mori, disbelief furrowing his brow. “Huh?!”

Dazai, trailing beside you, adds in with a whine. “Eh, why not?”

You press closer against Chuuya's side. Mori's expression remains unreadable as he continues, “The answer is simple. I want both of you to focus on your mission together.” He extends a hand towards you, his gesture inviting yet firm. “Come, come.”

Your head shakes involuntarily, a silent plea directed at Chuuya. His jaw clenches visibly, his fingers squeezing around yours.

“Chuuya-kun,” Mori repeats, his voice carrying the weight of command.

Chuuya's eyes flicker, a silent battle raging within him. With a click of his tongue, he reluctantly withdraws his hand from yours. “Stay here, [Your name].”

Your heart sinks at his words, a surge of protest rising within you. “No. I don't want to. Don't leave me alone here...”

Mori hums thoughtfully and offers a smile that doesn't look reassuring at all. “Worry not. Chuuya-kun will just be running an errand that will benefit both him and the Port Mafia.”

You turn to Chuuya, realization dawning upon you. “Are you... being threatened right now?”

Chuuya reaches out and gently touches your face, his fingers tracing your features as if trying to memorize every detail. He leans closer to you, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “It doesn't matter. What I want you to do now is to trust me. Can you do that for me?”

You swallow hard, leaning into his touch, nodding hesitantly, torn between fear and trust.

“I will be back, I promise.”

The sudden appearance of Dazai at your side startles you. He offers a thumbs-up, his usual cryptic smile flickering across his face. “I will be back too, [Your name]-chan! So, don't get upset and wait for me, okay?”

Chuuya uses one hand to shove Dazai away from you, triggering an exchange of insults that quickly intensifies into a heated argument.

“The fuck are you talking about, you shitty suicidal maniac? Don't get too casual with her.”

“Geez. You don't own her at all, Chuuya. Calm down.”

“Say that again and I will kill you.”

“Getting killed by the likes of you... Yikes. No thanks.”

“Shut the fuck up, bastard.”

Your attention drifts elsewhere as a young girl with blonde hair suddenly appears at Mori's side and offers you a friendly smile.

She has long blonde hair that reaches her back and blue eyes.

You blink in surprise at her unexpected arrival, uncertain of who she is or why she's here. Mori's expression stays inscrutable as he gives her a nod of acknowledgment.

Meanwhile, Chuuya gently pats your head one last time. Both he and Dazai exchange one final shove against each other's shoulders before striding towards the door.

The heavy thud of the closing door echoes through the office, signaling their departure.

From outside, Dazai's voice carries, loud and incredulous. “What the hell! Mori-san, all of our men on duty are dead!”

You immediately avert your gaze, pretending to suddenly be busy, feeling Mori's disappointment in the heavy sigh that escapes him.

He gestures for the young girl with blonde hair to come closer.

She steps forward, a bright smile on her face. “Hi!”

You blink at her, cautious yet intrigued. “Hello...”

“My name's Elise. What's yours?” Her head tilts to the side in genuine curiosity.

“[Your name].” you reply quietly, unsure of how to proceed.

Elise gently takes your hand and leads you to a nearby couch. “Do you want some sweets?” she asks, presenting a plate filled with an array of colorful treats.

You stare wide-eyed at the tempting display, momentarily forgetting your apprehension.

Wait.

This could be a trap.

Shaking your head, you look away from Elise, your mind racing with distrust and uncertainty. She hums softly, sensing your hesitation. “There's no poison in them, don't worry.”

You steal a cautious glance at the sweets again, their appeal almost irresistible.

Elise's kindness feels genuine, but in this world of hidden agendas and deceit, trusting anyone— even a seemingly innocent gesture— comes with its own risks.

To prove there's no poison in them, she randomly picks up a treat and takes a bite. She faces you with a reassuring smile. “See? No poison.”

For someone who has never had the luxury of indulging in cakes, sweets, and other extravagant treats, this moment feels like pure torture. Elise pushes the plate closer to you, urging you to try one.

“That one's delicious,” Elise comments cheerfully as she takes another treat and eats it. You hesitantly pick up one of the sweets, your hand trembling slightly. You bring it to your mouth, half-expecting it to taste foul or worse, but instead, a burst of flavors floods your senses. Your eyes widen in surprise.

The sweetness dances on your tongue, a symphony of tastes you've only heard about but never experienced. Elise watches you eagerly, her eyes bright with anticipation of your reaction.

“It's delicious...” you mumble softly, surprised by the pleasant taste lingering on your tongue.

She chuckles in response. “Right?” Her laughter is infectious, easing the tension that had weighed on you moments ago. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Elise then introduces you to various kinds of tea, each time reassuring you that they are perfectly safe.

At first, you're hesitant, conditioned by a life where suspicion is second nature. Yet, with each sip, Elise proves her sincerity, and gradually, you relax into the ritual of trying different teas.

While waiting for Chuuya, you and Elise find yourselves facing each other, crayons and papers in hand as you embark on an impromptu drawing session and laughter echoes through the office.

Suddenly, Elise gasps, a playful spark in her eyes as she recalls something. She jumps to her feet and turns to Mori, who is engrossed in writing something at his desk. “Hey, Rintarou! Do you still have those dresses you bought that were larger than my size?”

Mori hums thoughtfully, nodding without looking up. “Yup. They're in the other wardrobe. You want me to get them for you?”

Elise beams with excitement and grabs your hand, pulling you up from your seat. “No, need. I'll do it myself. Come on, [Your name]! I'll let you try on those dresses!”

“Huh? No, I—” Your protest is cut short as Elise swiftly drags you towards the adjoining room connected to the office.

You can't do anything but watch as Elise carefully places a long red ribbon in your hair. Stepping back, she plants both hands on her hips and admires her handiwork.

“Wow! [Your name], you look amazing!” Her face lights up with genuine delight, and she starts to bounce on her toes in excitement.

With hesitant steps, you stand and face the full-length mirror. The reflection reveals you in a black puff-sleeve dress that gracefully reaches your knee, paired with long white socks and black ankle boots. You tentatively lift a hand to touch the ribbon nestled in your hair.

A sigh escapes you as you scrutinize your reflection, feeling uncertain about this unfamiliar look.

Elise gently tugs at your hand, guiding you back into the office. She calls out to Mori, her voice tinged with pride as she presents her playful creation with you.

Mori turns his attention towards you, his eyes lighting up with a rare smile as he takes in your transformed appearance.

“You look good, [Your name]-kun!” he beams, rising from his seat. You almost instinctively step back as he leans closer, his eyes sparkling with genuine approval.

“I did great, didn't I?” Elise proudly lifts her chin, her confidence radiating.

Mori eagerly nods in agreement, his enthusiasm evident as he pulls out his phone. He begins snapping countless pictures of you, the flashes of white light momentarily blinding you. “You did great, Elise-chan! Look over here, [Your name]-kun!”

Your mouth falls open in surprise.

Is this... really the boss of the Port Mafia?

You find yourself pondering, a blend of disbelief and intrigue filling your thoughts, as you consider Mori's complex personality that seem to defy expectations.

Uh... Chuuya-kun.. where are you? I want to go home now.

A few hours later, you awaken groggily, having unknowingly dozed off while waiting for Chuuya. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you find yourself back in your room at the Sheep's hideout. Sitting up abruptly, you survey your surroundings and realize you're clad in an unfamiliar black coat and attire chosen by Elise.

Stepping out of your room, you discover your Sheep comrades gathered somberly at the center of the room. Their expressions shift to surprise as they see you.

“[Your name]! You're awake,” Yuan exhales in relief, her eyes scanning you with concern and approval. “You look good.”

Before you can respond, Shirase interjects with a voice laced with contempt. “That kid with bandages from the Port Mafia brought you here.”

Huh? It's Dazai who brought me here?

Your mind whirls with disbelief. Glancing around, you search for Chuuya but he's nowhere to be seen. “Where's Chuuya-kun?”

Yuan's expression darkens as she sighs heavily. “He left us, [Your name]. He's now working for the Mafia.”

Shougo's disappointment morphs into anger, his features contorting with betrayal. “That bastard is a traitor.”

Akira nods solemnly in agreement. “You're right.”

Soon, murmurs fill the room as all the Sheep members express their agreement, their voices tinged with betrayal and hurt over Chuuya abandoning them to join forces with the Port Mafia.

“That's not true!” You shout at them in disbelief, your voice cracking with emotion. “Chuuya-kun's out there investigating Arahabaki. You're saying he works for the Port Mafia, but the truth is he was trying to protect us! We were captured by the Mafia, and he had no choice but to obey their orders or we'd be dead!” Your fists clench tightly at your sides, trembling with frustration.

Shirase growls in frustration, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Did the Mafia brainwash you, [Your name]? Is that it? After spending such a short time with them, now you're defending our enemies instead of your family, the Sheep?”

“That's not true!” You shake your head vehemently. “I just want to make you guys understand that we should trust Chuuya-kun. He'll be back... he'll come back for sure. He promised me.”

Yuan and the others avoid your gaze, their expressions clouded with uncertainty. Your heart sinks at their silent disbelief, feeling the burden of their doubt.

“Everyone. Let's just wait for him... please.” you plead softly, your voice wavering with hope against the overwhelming doubt in the room.

A day drags by without any sign of Chuuya returning. Tears streak down your cheeks as you stand anxiously at the entrance, hoping against hope for his safe return.

A comforting hand lands on your shoulder, and as you turn, Shirase and the rest of the Sheep stand before you.

“Shirase-kun?”

Shirase offers a small, reassuring smile. “Just a small favor, [Your name]. Can you guide the territory for us?”

Perplexity mingles with concern on your face as you meet his gaze. “Why? Where are you all going?”

Yuan steps closer, her grip on your hand firm and resolute. “We talked about it last night. We're going to find Chuuya.”

Hope flickers in your eyes. “Really? Then I'll come with you!”

Shougo shakes his head firmly. “No, you need to stay here. Who knows what might happen? There could be enemies infiltrating our hideout.”

Shirase squeezes your shoulder gently. “You understand, don't you? If anything goes wrong, just call us. We'll be there for ya. Lay your hands on the Sheep and we hit back a hundred times harder, right?”

You nod hesitantly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Right. Please, be careful, everyone.”

Akira chimes in with a reassuring chuckle. “Of course, we will.”

You watch them slowly fade into the distance, their figures shrinking until they vanish from sight.

You wonder why all of them except you would go on a search to find Chuuya. You have an idea, but you quickly dismissed it as impossible.

The Sheep would never hurt their leader, and you trust them with all your life.

With a heavy sigh, you lift your gaze to the expansive blue sky above, your thoughts consumed by worry and longing for Chuuya. 

Chuuya's reassuring words replay inside your head.

One thing's for certain. I will not leave you guys.

I will be back, I promise.

It's late afternoon, the shadows lengthening across the empty entrance where you remain motionless.

Pulling your knees close, you bury your face in them, your heart heavy with worry as you wait for the Sheep to return with Chuuya.

Time stretches on, each minute ticking by slowly as you remain in your position.

Suddenly, a gentle hand pats your head, and you lift your tear-streaked face, a flicker of hope momentarily sparking within you.

But the figure crouching down to your level is not one of your Sheep comrades, nor is it Chuuya.

It's Dazai, with his inscrutable smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

“Hi, [Your name]-chan!”

Chapter Text

You sit there, shoulders hunched near the entrance of the Sheep's territory, trying to shield yourself from the world. The soft breeze ruffles your hair, tears tracing down your cheeks, betraying your attempt at composure.

And then, as if summoned by your distress, he appears.

Dazai crouches before you, his grin smugly infuriating. His eyes, however, betray a different story— hollow, distant, almost bored. It's a contradiction that intensifies your annoyance. Why is he here? Why now? Dazai and his impossibly perfect timing every single time.

His mere presence ignites a wave of irritation so strong that your tears seem to withdraw on their own, as if hiding your vulnerability from him were the better course of action.

“Go away.” you manage to say, your voice muffled by the fabric of your sleeves.

Dazai leans in closer, his hand cupping his ear dramatically. “What was that? Can't hear ya.”

A groan escapes your throat and with a heavy sigh, you lift your head, meeting his eyes with a glare. “I said, go away. Damn it.”

He blinks, a hint of curiosity flickering across his expression, though his grin remains intact. “Are you waiting for your Sheep friends?”

You furrow your brows, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. And Chuuya-kun too.”

Dazai hums thoughtfully, rocking back on his heels as if pondering some secret amusement. “Is that so? How interesting.”

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand. “What are you even doing here? If you're just here to mock me, save it and leave.”

Standing up straight, Dazai places his hands on his hips, a flicker of seriousness crossing his face. “I told you I'd come back, didn't I? Or did you already forget?”

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected sternness in his tone. But then, that infamous grin returns, teasing and mischievous. “I'm coming to get you, [Your name]-chan. Come, come. I won't hurt ya.”

You let out a wry laugh, the sound tinged with a bitter mix of disbelief and frustration. “What are you saying? I was looking forward to hear those words, but not from you, weirdo.”

Dazai pouts dramatically. “Weirdo? You're mean. If you're waiting for your beloved Sheep friends, forget it. They're done for.”

Your body tenses at his words, every muscle stiffening with alarm. “Done for? What do you mean?”

Dazai's gaze flickers downward briefly before meeting yours again, his tone oddly matter-of-fact. “They made an alliance with GSS.” As you start to rise, he quickly interjects, “Don't worry. They're safe. One thing I can assure you is that they're not coming back here anymore. To put it simply, I also made a deal with them.”

A throbbing headache pulses at your temples, and you reach up to massage them. “They lied to me... They told me they'd search for Chuuya-kun.”

Dazai chuckles. “You had doubts from the start, yet you chose to trust them. I almost feel sorry for you.” he adds mockingly.

Your glare sharpens, and you hug your knees tighter. “How about Chuuya-kun?” Your voice trembles, on the verge of breaking, but you manage to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

Dazai extended a hand to hold your face. “He joined the Mafia.”

Your eyes drop to the ground. “I see.” 

In a sharp motion, you swat his hand away and begin rocking back and forth, trying to contain the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Chuuya-kun... everyone....

Dazai watches you closely for a moment before speaking again. “Hey, [Your name]-chan. Sit properly.”

You stop rocking and raise an incredulous eyebrow at him, tears teetering on the brink of spilling over. “What do you mean by that?”

He points downwards with a smirk. “I can see your—” Before he can finish his sentence, you lash out.

Your kick connects with surprising force, sending him sprawling into the vast expanse of the clear blue sky.

Flushed with anger and embarrassment, you huff and lower your legs. “That pervert son of a bitch....”

A few moments later, Dazai reappears, his limp exaggerated in a dramatic display that seems out of place given the seriousness of the situation. It's almost believable considering the number of bandages he has on his body.

The black coat you've worn since last night covers your legs as you remain curled up, your face hidden in your knees.

“Go away, Dazai.”

He settles beside you, effortlessly mimicking your posture. “I'm not going anywhere. So, what's your plan now?” His voice is casual, as if the events leading up to this moment were of little importance.

You make no effort to lift your head. “I don't know.”

Placing both arms on his knees and resting his chin upon them, Dazai turns to face you. “Let's just talk, then. How old are you, [Your name]-chan?”

The question strikes a nerve, nearly bringing tears to your eyes. Swallowing hard, you gather yourself to respond. “Turning fourteen.”

Intrigued, Dazai leans closer, his curiosity piqued. “Oh. When?”

You manage a bitter smile, though it remains unseen as your face remains hidden. “Tomorrow.”

Dazai's reaction is theatrical, his eyes widening dramatically as he gasps in feigned surprise. “Tomorrow? My, what a perfect timing! Chuuya left you, your Sheep friends betrayed you and your organization disbanded. Congratulations! What a wonderful birthday present, [Your name]-chan.” he taunts, his laughter echoing with an underlying malice.

You grit your teeth, feeling a surge of anger coursing through your veins. Blades materialize all over your body, shimmering dangerously. But just as they are about to lunge towards Dazai, they dissipate into soft blue light.

Dazai's laughter persists, a mocking melody that grates on your nerves. “It's pointless,” he declares confidently, his expression smug as he anticipates your next move. “I'll just nullify it.”

You exhale heavily, your shoulders sagging slightly as you lower your stance, the tension in your muscles easing but not vanishing entirely. “Go away, Dazai. I don't want to hear your voice, and I don't want to see your face either. Everything about you is draining my life energy.” you murmur wearily.

“Woah, really? Let me drain it more and let's commit double suicide!” Dazai fans something with a flick, catching your attention. When you peek over to see what he's holding, your eyes widen in alarm.

It's a stack of papers, and the color drains from your face as you recognize them.

Without thinking, you instinctively reach out to snatch them from his grasp, but he deftly moves them out of your reach with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Those are....”

Dazai's grin widens mischievously as he tucks the papers into his coat pocket. “The Sheep's criminal records,” he announces casually, enjoying the discomfort he sees in your expression.

You clench your fists. “Give them back.” you demand through gritted teeth, your tone laced with urgency and a hint of desperation.

He shakes his head slowly, wagging a finger in a playful yet mocking gesture. “Nuh-uh.” he teases, his tone light but his eyes glinting with amusement at your predicament. His stance is relaxed, as if daring you to make a move, knowing full well the power he holds in those documents and the leverage they provide.

You reach your breaking point.

Chuuya didn't keep his promise; he never returned. Years ago, you pledged unwavering support for his decisions, even if it meant parting ways with the Sheep. But his sudden disappearance, without at least a single word of explanation, shattered that trust.

The betrayal deepens as you realize those you once considered family conspired behind your back, knowing you'd oppose their plans. Now, with the organization disbanded and your comrades scattered, you feel utterly alone.

To make matters worse, an enemy—someone from the Port Mafia—has effortlessly stolen documents that could ruin your life if exposed.

Everything becomes overwhelming. The weight of abandonment, betrayal, and imminent danger crashes down on you, threatening to suffocate.

Dazai watches in silence as your trembling form gives way to tears. A gasp escapes him, surprised by the raw display of emotion. “Oh. She's crying.”

Tears stream down your face, your voice quivering with sorrow and frustration as you struggle to articulate the overwhelming pain in your heart.

You lift your tear-streaked face, uncaring of Dazai's presence.

The anguish is etched across your features, your eyes betraying the turmoil within. It's a torrent of emotions— grief, anger, betrayal, and profound loneliness—all crashing down on you at once, threatening to drown you in their force.

Dazai lets out a heavy sigh and reaches out to hug you, but you shake your head, pushing him away with a pained expression.

“No... don't touch me... I want Chuuya-kun...” you manage through tear-filled sobs.

Dazai groans audibly but persists, wrapping his arms around you despite your resistance. “Hey, don't be choosy. Chuuya's not here. He left you and everyone.”

You shake your head vigorously, tears streaming down your cheeks. “That's not true... Stop lying...”

Dazai rolls his eyes in exasperation. “It's true.” he insists. He rubs soothing circles on your back as you cry, the sound muffled against his shoulder.

Footsteps echo nearby, and Dazai glances over his shoulder to see a ring of his subordinates encircling you both. With a nod from Dazai, they stand guard, alert and watchful.

He gently pulls away from the embrace, his hands now cupping your cheeks firmly, stretching them slightly to meet his gaze. “Listen, [Your name]-chan. Any moment now, some of the remaining GSS will come here, believing the Sheep betrayed them after this morning's Mafia ambush. Your friends are safe; we just disarmed them. It's not safe for you to stay here.”

You meet his gaze briefly before looking away, torn and conflicted. “But my friends told me to watch over our territory.”

Dazai leans closer, his breath brushing against your nose. “Forget it. Let's get out of here.”

You shake your head adamantly. “I don't want to go to the Mafia...”

Dazai chuckles softly, trying to ease the tension. “You don't have to. You can stay at my place for the meantime.”

Your confusion quickly turns to disgust. “Your place? Ugh, no thanks.”

He grips your cheeks a bit harder, eliciting a pained “ow ow ow!” from you. “If you behave, I might reconsider and return the papers.” he says proudly.

You fall silent, glaring at him with all the intensity you can muster. “I hate you.”

Dazai laughs lightly, removing his hands from your cheeks and placing them on his own face, tilting his head slightly. “You flatter me.”

“....Are you crazy?” you blurt out incredulously, disbelief coloring your tone as you try to comprehend his audacity.

Dazai clears his throat and continues his persuasive speech, his voice low and insistent.  “If you stay here and attempt to use your ability to fend off your enemies, you can't deactivate it. You're still struggling to control it. Worst-case scenario, the military police will catch wind of you, and boom! Your life is over. It's as good as me holding your criminal records. It might be better to come with me, wouldn't you agree?”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief at the dire scenario he paints. Dazai inches closer, his eyes piercing as he continues to press his point. “Right now, the only one who can control your ability is me.”

You are engulfed by waves of frustration and despair. The urge to escape, to find a way out of this impossible situation, intensifies. Your mind races with the consequences of each decision, each pathway seeming fraught with its own dangers and uncertainties.

The impulse to express your frustration physically grows stronger. You feel like pounding your head against the ground in a desperate bid to clear your mind, to shake off the overwhelming pressure bearing down on you.

Dazai's fingers start massaging your neck gently, his touch surprisingly soothing despite the circumstances. “I promise to give you something sweet at home.” he says softly.

Feeling defeated, you lower your head, tears still dampening your cheeks. Dazai reaches up, wiping away the tears with a tender gesture, humming a tuneless melody under his breath.

Meanwhile, you muster up the last of your resolve, attempting to snatch the papers from his pocket, but he effortlessly sidesteps your efforts.

“Let's go, let's go!” he urges, tugging on your arm to help you stand. “No time to waste.” he bends down to retrieve the coat from the ground, dusting it off before draping it around your shoulders. “You forgot your coat.”

Slipping your arms into the sleeves, you adjust the coat. “It's not mine. When I woke up, I was already wearing it.”

Dazai points to himself with a beaming grin. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's mine.”

He clearly doesn't appreciate your reaction, evident in the way he pouts and turns slightly away while still holding your hand.

With a quiet nod to his subordinates, a signal understood by them, he begins to walk briskly, pulling you along beside him.

As you walk together, the distant sound of a loud explosion shakes the air. Dazai tightens his grip on your hand, anticipating your questions before you can voice them.

“It's probably the GSS. They've found your hideout. My men will handle them; you don't need to worry about it.”

The silent journey with Dazai leads you through what seems like endless stretches of a desolate dumping site.

The acrid stench of toxic substances hangs heavily in the air, burning your nostrils, yet there's a strange familiarity to it that triggers unwelcome memories.

You push them away forcefully, refusing to let them consume your thoughts.

Don't tell me. This is Dazai's place?

Finally, Dazai guides you to his place. Inside, the space is cramped yet functional— a refrigerator humming quietly in one corner, an exhaust fan whirring beside a simple bed, a weathered wooden desk, and a worn round chair.

Feeling overwhelmed, you sink to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees for comfort.

“It's hot.” Dazai remarks casually, flipping on the exhaust fan that seems to amplify the pungent odor in the air. He watches you closely, then reaches out to pull you upright. “Sit on the bed.”

Reluctantly, you comply, sitting on the edge of his bed, fingers fidgeting. Dazai pulls the chair closer and settles into it, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that makes you feel uneasy.

You break the heavy silence that has settled between you with a blunt statement. “I only came here because I was promised a sweet snack. Now, where is it?”

Dazai responds casually with a peace sign. “Oh, I was talking about me.”

Your expression twists in disgust, a noise escaping your lips before you can stop it. He chuckles in amusement at your reaction, seemingly unfazed.

Night descends, casting shadows across the cramped room.

You find a spot on Dazai's bed and make yourself as comfortable as possible. Removing your coat, you use it as a makeshift blanket.

Dazai joins you without hesitation, lying down as if it's perfectly normal. Startled by his proximity, you recoil, kicking him away from you. He swiftly catches your foot before it reaches him.

“Geez. Calm down, will ya? I'm sleepy.” he complains.

Sitting up abruptly, you shoot him a fierce glare. “You, sleep on the floor! It's too cramped in here.”

Dazai looks genuinely affronted. “Hey! This is my place! Why should I sleep on the floor?”

You wave your arms in frustration. “I'm a guest!”

With an exasperated sigh, Dazai shakes his head. “Stop making a fuss. Just sleep.”

Grudgingly, you climb out of the bed, purposefully stepping on his foot as you do so. “Fine! I'm going to sleep on the floor.”

Dazai hums nonchalantly. “Okay, then. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Shut up.” you mutter tersely, settling onto the hard floor. “I can't believe this. Who in their right mind would allow their guest to sleep on the floor?”

“Me. As long as I'm comfortable and shut up already.”

“Screw you, Dazai. You shouldn't have invited me in the first place.”

You stir from your slumber, blinking as your eyes adjust to the dim surroundings.

A faint blur of orange hair momentarily confuses you, and you mumble groggily, still half in a dream-like state. “....Chuuya-kun?”

As your vision clears, you're startled to see dark brown hair and bandages inches from your face.

Dazai's face is unnervingly close, his hair lightly brushing your cheeks. The sudden proximity jolts you awake completely, and you let out a piercing scream, echoing through the room.

Dazai jerks awake in alarm, his eyes wide with confusion and concern. He sits up abruptly, startled by your outburst. Before he can react, you grab his face, pulling it closer to yours, and bang your forehead against his with a resounding thud.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

“IT FUCKING HURTS!” Dazai exclaims, wincing from the unexpected collision. “Are you crazy?!”

You gracefully roll away from the bed, your accusatory finger pointed sharply at Dazai. “You—piece of shit! What have you done to me—”

Your words falter abruptly as a discomfort pricks your lips. Instinctively, you reach up to touch them, and a sharp wince escapes your lips.

Dazai stares at you blankly, mirroring your action as he touches his own lips and winces slightly in response.

Wide-eyed realization dawns simultaneously on both of you.

Dazai's sheepish smile tries to defuse the tension. “Huh. It must've been because of the cramped space.” He offers you a peace sign and you almost take a step forward to break his fingers. “We accidentally bumped into each other... our lips, to be exact. Ha-ha-ha!”

Your body trembles uncontrollably as the significance sinks in.

My.... my..... my..... first.... kiss.....

“#_÷/*√|`;~ק∆¢π^%[\]=×@/%=&*)_(+!!!!!”

A blood-curdling scream tears from your throat. Unbeknownst to you, countless blades begin emerging from your body, filling the space around Dazai's place.

“No... no...! Anything but my bed!” Dazai cries out in dismay, reacting to the sudden appearance of blades that threaten to damage his surroundings. “[Your name]-chan, calm down!”

But it was too late; the blades reached his bed, creating a chaotic mess.

Reacting swiftly, Dazai springs to his feet and delivers a sharp kick to your shin. “Take that, you stupid porcupine! Ability: No Longer Human!”

“Ouch! Who the fuck are you calling, porcupine!?”

A surge of blue light flashes, causing all the blades to vanish abruptly, though his place remains in disarray.

Frustration etch his features deeply as he seizes your shoulders and begins shaking you vigorously. “What is wrong with you?! Do you have any idea of what you've done to my place?!”

Your wide eyes, now unfocused and distant, mumble incoherent words. “My... my first kiss... gone... goodbye... farewell... wedding.. bells....”

His shaking ceases abruptly, replaced by a piercing glare. “Hey. Snap out of it!” His voice, edged with urgency, cuts through the haze of your mind, demanding your attention.

You continue mumbling. “I.. can hear.. the sound of trumpets... the gates of heaven... opening...”

Above you, a faint glimmer begins to emerge, a gentle radiance that seems to pierce through the veil of reality. “...Heaven. Take me. Please take me away from this evil place...”

Dazai curses under his breath, and his sudden movement catches you off guard as he grips both of your cheeks firmly and presses his lips against yours.

Shock ripples through you; the faint glimmer of light above instantly disappears, as if deeming you unworthy.

Your eyes widen in sheer disbelief, almost impossibly so, as he pulls away, still holding you firmly. His penetrating gaze bores into yours, waiting for a response.

For a minute, you're left speechless, unable to process what just happened.

What the fuck? Did this bastard just kissed me?

Dazai's stern expression softens into a smirk of amusement. He chuckles lightly. “Are you fully awake now?”

Speechless, you remain rooted in place, still processing the surreal turn of events.

Dazai's amusement deepens into a chuckle, the corners of his mouth quirking up mischievously. “You destroyed my place,” he remarks casually, “it's only fair I pay you back for it.”

Embarrassment flushes your entire being, heat rising as you take a hesitant step backward. With a teasing grin, he adds, “Happy Birthday, [Your name]-chan.” sticking his tongue out playfully.

The horrifying, life-changing, repulsive, heart-wrenching moment hangs suspended in the air, until a sharp sound breaks the quiet — the unmistakable slap of your hand meeting Dazai's cheek.

“OUCH!”

But your fury refuses to be quelled. With each resounding slap, you release a fraction of the mortification that grips your heart.“TAKE THAT! TAKE THAT! TAKE THAT, YOU PERVERT!”

“OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! HEY! STOP IT ALREADY! I HATE PAIN!”

Traumatized by the unexpected events with Dazai, you find yourself wandering the bustling streets of Yokohama beside him, struggling to shake off the unsettling memories.

This twisted motherfucker kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me—

Dazai's sudden movement draws you into an antique shop, his grip on your hand pulling you along. He meanders through the aisles, leaving you to fend off the haunting thoughts of the kisses that still linger in your mind.

I should kill him I should kill him I should kill him I should kill him I should kill him I should kill him I should kill him I should kill him I must kill him— OH.

Amidst the aged relics, your gaze falls upon a violin. Its weathered appearance only adds to its charm, and a bitter smile tugs at your lips as you approach it.

You trace the worn wood and the intact strings, lost in a moment of quiet contemplation. Dazai materializes beside you, his attention captured by the instrument as well.

“You want to buy it?” he asks casually, his eyes flickering between you and the violin.

“I don't have money.” you respond quietly, your fingers still brushing lightly over the strings.

“Me neither.”

The shop owner, sensing your interest, approaches with a warm smile. “It's not for sale, I'm afraid.”

Dazai hums thoughtfully and then surprises you by taking your hand. “It's not? Hmm... What a shame. How about letting us borrow it, then?”

You and the shop owner exchange bewildered glances at Dazai's audacious request.

“Huh?”

“What the heck?” you mutter under your breath.

Undeterred, Dazai continues with a sad smile, “You see, it's her birthday today, and playing the violin has always been her dream. Tragic, right?”

You shoot him a questioning look, unsure of his intentions. His response is a playful wink, leaving you even more perplexed.

“We'll take good care of it.” Dazai assures the owner confidently.

The owner considers Dazai's words for a moment. His eyes flicker to Dazai, then to yours and your intertwined hands, then he sighs in resignation. “Fine, but make sure to return it.”

Dazai's face lights up with triumph. “Of course, we will!”

You stand there in wide-eyed disbelief, still trying to process what just happened, uncertain whether to be amused or irritated by Dazai's antics.

Dazai hands you the violin case, a smirk playing on his lips as he balances a large cardboard under his arm, a marker held between his teeth. He stops abruptly near a bench that overlooks the bustling port, the sea breeze ruffling his hair as he perches down.

You silently watch as he retrieves the marker, preparing to scribble something onto the cardboard.

“What a great day to die−” you start to read aloud, then cut him off abruptly. “Are you crazy? Let me do it.” Snatching the marker from him, you replace the word “die” with “donate.”

“What a great day to donate. It should say that.” you declare, scanning the cardboard with a critical eye. You prop it up against your knee and settle onto the bench. “You do something interesting while I hold this sign. We need money.”

Dazai stares at you incredulously. “That's my line. You play the violin while I hold that one up.”

You visibly choke. “What the heck! I can't play! I only know a single piece.” you snap at him.

Dazai sighs heavily. “Then play that piece. I don't care, just do it. I'm starving.”

You reach out and give his hair a firm tug. “I only know the piece, 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,' Dazai.”

His mouth drops open in disbelief. “For real? Are you serious?”

You nod eagerly, your expression serious. “Yeah...”

“Pffft. You're so lame, [Your name]-chan,” he remarks, laughter growing as he points teasingly at you.

Annoyed, you swat his hand away, a growl escaping your lips. “Shut up, weirdo. You play it then.”

He whines playfully. “Eh... I can't. I don't know how.”

You shoot him a pointed glare. “Wow. You're even more lame, Dazai. At least I can play something.”

His laughter echoes through the late summer air, a genuine chuckle escaping him as he holds his stomach. “But of all, 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'....really? Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Ugh. You're so annoying.” you mutter, frustration evident as you delicately remove the violin from its case, placing the now-empty case on the ground and opening it wide.

Dazai beams at you, unperturbed by your annoyance. “Great. That's the spirit, [Your name]-chan! We're both desperate now.”

“Shut up.” you retort, stretching your hands upward in an attempt to release some tension.

“Wait, wait.” Dazai interrupts, his hands diving into his pocket to retrieve a roll of bandages. “Don't move... I'll put some bandages on you to make us look even more pitiful.”

With a resigned sigh, you lean closer to him, allowing Dazai to carefully wrap bandages around your head, neck, and hands. His face is set in concentration, brow furrowed with the effort.

After a few minutes, Dazai steps back, admiring his handiwork. “You look great. Now, we match.”

You become self-conscious under the scrutiny of passersby, a slight flush creeping onto your cheeks as you shift uncomfortably. “I need a mirror...”

“You look divine,” Dazai remarks casually. “Now, we're the unstoppable bandage duo in Yokohama.”

“Unstoppable.. bandage duo?” Your laughter bursts forth unexpectedly, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as you struggle to regain composure.

Dazai pouts at your reaction. Gasping for breath between laughs, you manage to speak. “Damn... I didn't expect that one. You're hilarious, Dazai. Ha-ha-ha!”

Dazai huffs and snatches the cardboard sign from your grasp. “Quit laughing, idiot. You play now so we can eat. It's almost noon.”

“Fine, fine!” you agree, still chuckling. You cradle the violin against your collarbone, supported by your left hand and shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes.

“Not 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Dazai mutters, as if giving you a playful warning.

You snap your eyes open to glare at him, and he rolls his eyes, gesturing for you to proceed.

Closing your eyes once more, you begin to play. The melodic strains of the violin fill the air, captivating the attention of passersby.

Dazai grins broadly and raises the cardboard sign high.

The piece you play is one your mother taught you long ago, a hauntingly beautiful melody of parting and longing.

Dazai watches you in silence, the sea breeze tousling your hair, your eyes closed in deep concentration. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he unconsciously pulls the cardboard sign closer to his chest.

A small crowd begins to gather around you, drawn by the melancholic beauty of your music.

One by one, they step forward, placing bills into the open violin case at your feet.

As the notes from your violin fill the air, a sense of anticipation mixes with hunger in your mind.

Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue! Barbecue!

The thought of food becomes a silent motivator, urging you to pour your soul into each melody.

As your performance draws to a close, you open your eyes to a surprising sight— a large crowd has gathered around you, their applause washing over you like a wave of validation.

Bowing your head in gratitude, you catch Dazai standing among them, his grin infectious as he applauds enthusiastically.

“Are they vagabonds?” a voice whispers in the crowd, and you stiffen at the unintended accusation.

“Look at those insane amount of bandages... they're probably hurt.”

“Poor children... but I'm so glad they continue living.”

Embarrassment and discomfort flushes your cheeks as you slowly turn away, avoiding the scrutiny of the crowd. Dazai, however, finds humor in the situation, laughing unabashedly.

Once the crowd disperses, you and Dazai carefully count the bills collected, your eyes lighting up at the sum.

“¥10,000!”

Dazai hums approvingly, gently patting your cheeks. “You did great, [Your name]-chan. I thought you were going to start playing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'.”

“Quit it,” you nudge him playfully. “Let's return this violin to the shop owner and treat ourselves to something delicious!” Dazai agrees eagerly, nodding his head in agreement.

After returning the violin and thanking the owner, you both indulge in a hearty barbecue feast. Neither of you holds back, devouring the food with gusto. At one point, you almost choke on a particularly large bite, prompting Dazai to swiftly offer you a glass of water which you gulp down gratefully before resuming your meal.

Time seems to slip away effortlessly. Dazai rents a bike, holding it expectantly as you place your hands on your hips.

“Tadaaa!”

“Hey, Dazai. How much of our money is left?” you ask curiously.

Dazai considers for a moment. “Roughly 3000.”

“That's fine,” you decide. “Let's go for some street food for dinner.”

Dazai readily agrees with a bob of his head, confidently mounting the bike. “Hop on the back. Let's explore around the park.”

You hesitate briefly, eyeing the bike skeptically. “Uh... isn't that dangerous? I think I'll just walk.”

Dazai shakes his head reassuringly. “It's fine, it's fine. Come on. I only borrowed this for two hours.”

You sigh and reluctantly climb onto the bike behind him. As Dazai starts maneuvering through the park, the wind gently brushes against your face, carrying with it the scents and sounds of Yokohama at dusk.

The gentle breeze rustles through the trees and a sense of calm blankets the entire place. “It's so peaceful...” you murmur absentmindedly, your eyes tracing the quiet serenity of the surroundings. Dazai responds with a contented hum, his gaze wandering thoughtfully around.

Without warning, Dazai steers the bicycle down a steep slope, the thrill of the descent bringing laughter bubbling up from both of you.

The wind whips past, ruffling your hair as adrenaline courses through you, and you can't help but laugh along.

“This is so fun!” you say, caught up in the exhilaration of the risky ride.

Dazai's grin widens as he responds, the thrill evident in his sparkling eyes. “Isn't it?”

But just as you speak, the bike tilts unexpectedly to the side, nearly throwing both of you off balance.

“Whoa! That was close!” Dazai exclaims, his voice a blend of surprise and amusement.

Your heart races at the near miss, and in a reflexive moment of panic, you grab onto Dazai's coat, inadvertently tugging his hair in the process. “If we fall, I won't forgive you!”

Dazai chuckles, his laughter carrying through the rushing wind. He turns slightly to glance at you, his expression playful and carefree.

“Dazai, watch out!” you suddenly cry out, your eyes widening as you notice a tree looming dangerously close ahead.

But it's too late. The front tire of the bicycle clips the tree trunk with a jolt, sending the bike careening off course.

There's a moment of chaotic motion, a blur of limbs and the sensation of weightlessness, before gravity takes hold and both of you crash down onto the soft grass with a loud thud.

“Ouch!”

“Ow... that hurts...”

Dazai groans good-naturedly beside you, his hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Well, that didn't quite go as planned, did it?”

The only response he receives is a pair of glaring daggers aimed squarely at him. Your eyes narrow, the pain from the fall fleetingly overshadowed by annoyance at his daredevil antics.

He meets your gaze, his own eyes widening in mock innocence, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Twilight descends upon Yokohama and Dazai brings the bicycle to a gentle halt. You dismount gracefully, standing beside him as you both gaze up in awe at the darkening sky.

Dazai holds onto the bicycle's handlebars, his eyes tracing the hues of the setting sun mingling with the emerging stars.

“Shall we?” Dazai turns to you with a smile.

You nod, following his lead as you begin to walk together.

Later, after a satisfying dinner at Chinatown, you return to the park where your violin echoed earlier.

Sitting side by side on a weathered bench, you watch in silence as the lights of the Port Mafia buildings flicker in the distance, casting a glow against the night sky.

Lost in contemplation, you didn't notice Dazai pulling out a cupcake with a lit candle.

Startled, you pull back as he brings it closer to you.

“Happy Birthday, [Your name]-chan.” Dazai says with a grin.

Speechless, you swallow a lump in your throat. The unexpected gesture of Dazai contrasts sharply with the memories filling your mind— of laughter and warmth shared with the Sheep, their faces appearing in your mind like scenes from a cherished movie.

Closing your eyes, you make a wish and blow out the candle. Dazai cheers, setting the cupcake aside and leaning closer.

Your body tenses at his proximity. “What do you want? Ya want me to slap you again?”

Dazai whines playfully, but doesn't retreat. “You're as ruthless as always. Can I kiss you?”

Shock and embarrassment paint your face crimson, caught off guard by his question. “What the hell! What are you saying, you creep!”

Dazai shrugs nonchalantly. “It's no big deal. Just a kiss.”

Growling, you retort, “It's not just a kiss, idiot. I've read that kisses should mean something, reserved for someone special you truly care about!”

Dazai groans dramatically. “Huuuuh. That sounds like too much effort. Responsibilities aren't my thing.”

You agree with a nod. “Me neither.”

Dazai's grin widens mischievously. “But did you know, kisses can lift spirits. When someone's feeling down, a kiss can work wonders!”

Narrowing your eyes skeptically, you reply, “I'm not so sure about that.”

Rolling his eyes, Dazai explains, “It's about intent. A kiss can be a casual gesture too, like a greeting in some cultures.”

“....Really?”

“Yeah. That's why it's not a big deal.”

“If that's the case, should I kiss my friends when I see them?”

Dazai shakes his head firmly. “Nope, that's a different story.”

“Are you making fun of me now? You said it's just a greeting.”

Dazai coughs awkwardly. “Well, not everyone would appreciate that kind of greeting, so it's best not to.”

“That's me for starters. Then why is it no big deal?”

Dazai sighs in exasperation. “Kissing is only sanctioned for the unstoppable bandage duo of Yokohama.”

Your expression twists in confusion. “Now you're spouting bullshit.”

Annoyance flashes across his face, but he sighs loudly. “Fine, whatever you say. Lean closer to me so I can kiss you properly, or do you want us to end up with another set of bruises on our lips?”

Baffled, you ask him again. “Is this really okay? It's not a big deal, right? And don't you dare. I will bite your tongue.”

Dazai nods affirmatively. “No biggie. Forget about what you read” Then, he gasps dramatically, covering his mouth with a hand. “Oh my! Are we going French?”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you thunk him on the head. “No, not French.” you reply.

He blinks, a sly smile forming on his lips. “Eh, what's this? Where did ya learn about this stuff, little [Your name]-chan?”

You shift uncomfortably, looking away. “I read a lot of books.”

Dazai chuckles softly. “I see. What kind?”

You glare at him, your cheeks flushing red. Irritation and nervousness cover your face as you tentatively say, “Argh! Shut up already. You're so annoying. Go ahead. Kiss me. Let's get this over with.”

“YAAAYYY!” Dazai's eyes sparkle with triumphant mischief as he closes the distance towards you.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to accept it.

It's fine, you tell yourself. It's just a kiss, nothing more.

When Dazai pulls away, a wide grin spreads across his face. His cheeks bear a subtle flush, and you stare at him in wonder.

I wonder what his face would look like if I punched him.

“What is it? What's on your mind?” Dazai asks softly.

“I'm thinking of punching your face.” you admit honestly, catching him off guard.

Dazai's facade suddenly shifts; his expression becomes deadpan. “Really.”

A sudden thought pops into your mind. “Hey, Dazai,” you continue, “If I see Chuuya-kun... would it be okay to kiss him too?”

Dazai's grin falters, his eyes turning distant and dark in an instant. “No, you won't do that to him, [Your name]-chan.”

You watch his reaction closely before nodding. “Alright.”

Dazai brightens again. “Good girl, good girl.” he says, patting your head playfully. You swat his hand away with a glare. “Let's head home.” he suggests, standing from the bench.

As you reach out impulsively to take Dazai's hand, you both freeze in place, eyes widening in realization.

You quickly retract your hand, hurrying ahead with your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment.

What's wrong with me?

That was purely out of instinct! Shit.

Dazai's laughter rings out as he takes your hand again, tugging you along. Resignedly, you let him lead you, stealing glances at the starry night sky above.

“Come on, or we'll miss the train.”

As you continue walking, you push aside your racing thoughts, hoping to savor the moment without overanalyzing it.

“I miss everyone.” you mumble quietly, your voice barely audible amidst the quiet ambiance of the evening stroll.

Dazai turns to you, his expression initially inscrutable. He stops walking, and you come to a halt as well, meeting his gaze.

“Do you want to join the Mafia?” His voice is calm, almost casual. He tilts his head slightly, those hollow, dark brown eyes locking onto your wide, searching ones.

“The mafia?” You hesitate, thoughts of Chuuya flashing through your mind like an unbidden storm. “I... I'm not sure...”

Dazai steps closer, his presence looming over you. “If you join, you'll be under my watch since I'm the one who recruited you.” His hand reaches out, gently cupping your cheek as he speaks, his touch surprisingly warm against your skin.

“I will help you with your ability,” he continues softly, his voice holding a persuasive edge. “The mafia pays well, and you'll live in a luxurious apartment complex. You'll meet lots of people there.”

You glance away, overwhelmed by the implications of his offer.

“They will not betray you, [Your name]-chan.”

Your voice trembles slightly as you question him, uncertain of his assurances. “How can you say that?”

“It's simple.” Dazai's tone remains steady. “The Port Mafia has three rules: Follow the boss's orders no matter what, don't betray the organization, and always hit back twice as hard. Those rules are ordered from most to least important.”

Dazai tugs gently at the black coat you wear, his touch pulling you back into the gravity of his proposition. “Whoever recruits a new member into the organization usually looks after them as well,” he explains. “It's custom to gift the new recruit with something they can wear as a symbol of that bond.”

You stare at him, realization and disbelief dawning in your eyes. His smile, though sinister and cruel, holds a strange allure. “It signifies your acceptance into the Mafia.”

A mix of emotions churns within you, leaving you unable to articulate your thoughts.

Fuck. Right from the start... When he gave me this coat, he already... he already got me.

Dazai places both hands on your cheeks, lifting your chin to meet his unwavering gaze. “Welcome to the Port Mafia, [Full name].” he murmurs.

And then, without warning, he leans in, bridging the gap between the two of you.

Your heart races, torn between uncertainty and intrigue, as his lips brush against yours.

Chapter Text

The night air is cool against your skin, tinged with the faint aroma of city lights and the soft hum of nighttime traffic in the distance. The moon rests low in the deep, dark sky, bathing the secluded park where you and Dazai stand, frozen in the moment, as Dazai's lips press against yours with an unexpected passion.

Breaking away, you push him by the chest, a need to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. Dazai peers at you through darkened lashes, questioning, trying to decipher the sudden shift in your demeanor. There's a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he's intrigued by your unpredictable reaction.

“What's the rush?” he quips, raising an eyebrow, his voice tinged with amusement. “We were just getting started.”

You don't respond immediately, instead choosing to stretch your arms outward as if preparing for a battle of wills with the universe itself. Every muscle tenses as you summon the strength, both physical and emotional, that lies dormant within. With a swift motion, your fist meets his cheek in a resounding thud.

Dazai recoils back, his eyes widening with surprise at your sudden act of aggression. The impact sends him flying, his figure silhouetted against the starlit sky.

You watch with a rush of triumphant adrenaline as Dazai's body twists and begins to stumble backwards. His arms flail momentarily, seeking balance and he seems to hover in midair for an instant— a fleeting, almost surreal image before succumbing to gravity.

“Manipulative piece of shit.” you mutter bitterly, the words escaping like a curse. Stripping off the heavy black coat that had shielded you from the evening chill, you leave it draped over a nearby bench, a silent declaration of independence.

After hours of walking, the Sheep's hideout finally comes into view. Your heart sinks as you take in the devastation before you— it looks as though a bomb has torn through the place. Debris litters the ground, remnants of a once lively sanctuary now reduced to ruins.

The urge to cry overwhelms you, but you hold back tears, collapsing at the entrance. You patiently wait, clinging to the faintest thread of optimism that someone, anyone, will return— a fellow Sheep, maybe even Chuuya.

Days pass in agonizing slowness, and still, no one appears. Exhaustion creeps into your bones, fueled by tears shed and a gnawing hunger that weakens your limbs. Your skin prickles with cold through the tattered holes in your clothes, remnants of when your ability activated.

You can't help but exhale heavily, the sigh filled with despair and a sense of resignation. Gathering what little strength remains, you stagger to your feet, driven by the primal need for sustenance. Despite your disheveled appearance, the hunger overrides any concern for how you look.

You manage to scavenge and steal some food, finding refuge in a shadowy lit alleyway, where the stolen apple briefly eases your ongoing hunger.

As you nibble on the apple, your thoughts drift back to the antique shop where you once borrowed a violin with Dazai. The memory of music lifts your spirits, inspiring a flicker of hope. Determined to recreate that fleeting joy, you set your sights on borrowing the violin again, planning to busk in the park to earn money for food.

However, as you arrive at the shop, anticipation turns to disappointment. The store is closed.

“Damn. Today's my lucky day, I guess.” you mutter with bitter sarcasm, eyeing the 'close' sign hanging on the shop door. 

Disappointment wells up inside you, a bitter reminder of plans gone awry and dashed hopes. Shaking your head in defeat, you turn away from the shop and retreat to the familiar shadows of the alley.

Leaning heavily against the rough brick wall, you close your eyes and let your mind drift. You're lost in memories of happier times with Chuuya and the Sheep. Laughter echoes in your mind, mingling with the faint scent of familiarity and belonging that once filled these streets.

Fatigue grips your weary body, pulling you down towards the cold ground. With a heavy heart, you curl into yourself, resting your forehead on your knees. The weight of exhaustion and disillusionment settles over you like a heavy blanket, and despite the harsh reality of your circumstances, sleep mercifully envelops you, offering temporary refuge from the harshness of your current existence.

The haze of sleep dissipates abruptly as a hand snakes around your waist, pulling you close against the cold, unforgiving wall. Gasping, your eyes snap open to meet the gaze of a figure whose breath reeks of alcohol. Panic surges through you as the chilling realization of his intentions sinks in. With adrenaline-fueled urgency, you push against his chest, but his grip remains unmoved, unyielding to your frantic attempts to break free.

"Get off me!" Your muffled cry is stifled as his hand clamps over your mouth, suppressing your desperate pleas.

Heart pounding, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your ability to manifest. Dread washes over you when nothing happens— no protective blades emerge from your body.

A sinking feeling of helplessness takes hold as you try again, commanding your ability to respond, but it fails you once more. The sensation of your skirt being lifted sends a wave of revulsion through your trembling frame.

Tears spill down your cheeks as you continue to struggle against his hold. Frantically scanning your surroundings for any sign of salvation, your eyes lock onto a familiar figure with unkempt dark brown hair, adorned with bandages, leaning casually nearby— it's Dazai, his arms folded coolly across his chest.

“Dazai...!” Your silent plea is desperate, a plea for rescue that goes unanswered as you meet his amused gaze.

A sardonic smile plays on his lips as he raises a hand in a mocking greeting. “Hi!” he mouths casually, his indifference cutting deeper than any blade.

Feeling a slight slackening in the man's grip on your mouth, you seize the opportunity. “Dazai!” you cry out, your voice echoing with anguish and hope, pleading for his intervention in this moment of dire need.

Dazai's eyes gleam with a twisted amusement as he observes your futile attempts to push the man away. The taste of fear coats your voice as you cry out desperately, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Help me!”

A contemptuous scoff escapes Dazai's lips, his demeanor cold and detached as he pulls away from the wall, fixing you with a piercing glare. “Help you? Why should I?” His laughter rings hollow, hands slipping deeper into the pockets of his coat, emphasizing his indifference.

Disbelief and horror wash over you, mingled with a sinking realization of the danger closing in. You squeeze your eyes shut, but Dazai's voice cuts through the darkness of your closed lids, filled with a sinister proposition. “I will only help a member of the Port Mafia, not some nobody from an opposing organization.”

Forced to confront the grim reality, you open your eyes, meeting Dazai's cold, calculating gaze. His smile twists into something malevolent, waiting for your decision with a predatory patience.

A lump forms in your throat as panic tightens its grip, while Dazai begins to turn away, dismissing the gravity of your predicament as inconsequential.

“I'll join the Mafia,” you choke out, your voice trembling with fear and resignation. “Just do something, Dazai!”

Dazai halts, turning to face you fully, his black coat billowing around him like a cloak of shadows. He studies you for a heartbeat, his grin widening with a dangerous edge. “Roger that!”

In a swift motion, he twirls a gun in his hand, the metal flashing ominously in the dim light. A gunshot shatters the silence, reverberating through the narrow alleyway. Your breath catches as you watch the man who had held you captive slump to the ground with a heavy thud, a pool of crimson spreading beneath him.

You kneel on the cold, unforgiving ground, your entire body trembling uncontrollably, still reeling from the man's invasive touch that lingers on your skin like a stain. Tears stream down your face, each drop a manifestation of fear.

The sound of approaching footsteps breaks through your fog of panic. Dazai appears before you, his dark eyes fixed on your quivering form as he crouches down, bringing himself level with you.

His head tilts slightly to the side, a gesture of curiosity devoid of empathy. You meet his assessing yet strangely detached gaze, feeling small under the intensity of his stare. His hands seize your cheeks, the warmth of his touch contrasting sharply with the icy clutch of fear tightening your chest.

Dazai's attention sharpens as he notices your uneven breathing, sensing an impending panic attack, and a cruel smirk plays on his lips. There's no tenderness in his actions, only a raw desire as his lips crash onto yours with a possessiveness that borders on aggression, consuming your breath in a kiss that offers no solace, only dominance.

You gasp in surprise, your body stiffening under his forceful hold. His kiss is demanding, leaving you feeling trapped, and you cling to his coat sleeve, fingers knotted tightly in the fabric.

When he finally pulls away, ragged breaths fill the silence that settles between you. You dare not meet his gaze, instead focusing on the ground as you try to steady your breathing.

Dazai's chuckle rumbles low, a velvet rasp, a sound both familiar and unnerving. His touch on your cheek is feather-light, yet imbued with a history of manipulation you've come to recognize all too well.

“You're quite the stubborn one, aren't you?” His voice carries a playful edge. “I almost believed you'd prefer letting that bastard have his way rather than joining the Mafia.”

You meet his gaze with a stoic silence, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response. Unperturbed, Dazai casually shrugs off his coat, draping it over your quivering frame.

Leaning in, his breath tickles your ear as he whispers, “What perfect timing, [Your name]-chan. Chuuya just returned from his mission. Fate may bring you two together tonight.”

At the mention of Chuuya's name, your body tenses involuntarily. Dazai pulls back, his smirk widening at your guarded reaction. “Oh? Not excited to see him?” he feigns surprise, amusement tinting his tone.

You shake your head slowly, voice barely audible. “I don't want to see him.”

Dazai throws his head back in laughter, the sound ringing around you. “Really? But surely, you're pleased to see me, [Your name]-chan?” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he points to himself, waiting for your response.

You stare at him, your expression inscrutable, emotions shielded behind a facade of composure. You pause before nodding, a small affirmation.

There's a silent understanding that arguing is futile now, especially when Dazai's eyes gleam with a cunning, scheming malice.

Dazai giggles softly, “I'm happy to see you too.” he replies. Helping you to your feet, he extends his hand with a suggestive smile, inviting you to join him. “Shall we?”

You hesitate for a moment, then reach out, your hand finding his. You let Dazai lead you through the dimly lit streets towards the formidable structure of the Port Mafia headquarters.

While walking, Dazai hums softly, swinging your hand with his as the sound of cars fills the bustling night of Yokohama. The chill air nips at your skin, prompting you to tighten your grip on the coat draped around your shoulders.

Sensing your discomfort, Dazai halts abruptly, guiding the coat around you before deftly buttoning it up to shield you from the cold.

With a small smile, he watches as you bury your hand in the coat pocket. “We're almost there.”

Standing now before the imposing Port Mafia headquarters, you follow Dazai up the staircase leading to the entrance of the main building.

The automatic doors slide open with a soft whoosh, and you step inside alongside him. He gestures toward the elevator and presses the button for the top floor, the soft hum of the elevator signaling your ascent.

Unsure and apprehensive, you shift uncomfortably, your mind racing with countless emotions. The prospect of facing Chuuya makes your heart race, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

What will you say to him? Will you confront him about his absence? The questions swirl in your mind, leaving you lightheaded and anxious.

As the elevator doors open with a soft ping, you find yourself frozen in place, hesitant to proceed. Dazai pulls you forward, his chuckle echoing in the confined space. Your hands tremble slightly, and Dazai grins encouragingly.

“No need to be nervous,” he says in a hushed tone. “The boss will be thrilled to see you again, especially Elise.”

You offer no reply, your gaze darting nervously around the corridor as you approach Mori's office.

Dazai opens the door for you, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of Chuuya's striking orange hair. He stands just outside the office, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation as he locks eyes with Dazai.

“Get out of my sight, shitty Dazai.” Chuuya snaps, his voice edged with annoyance as he moves to step past him.

Dazai feigns innocence, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I have important business here. Care to hear about it?” His playful tone only seems to irk Chuuya further.

“Move out of the way, bastard or I'll kill you.” Chuuya retorts tersely, his patience wearing thin.

Dazai lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, are you sure about that, Chuuya?”

With a quick movement, he pulls you close, feeling your hesitation and reluctance to face Chuuya. You press yourself tightly against his back, your heart pounding.

The thought of confronting Chuuya fills you with anxiety and unresolved emotions.

You desperately hope to remain hidden, not prepared to meet Chuuya just yet. Despite your efforts to stay concealed, Dazai push you forward, bringing you into Chuuya's view.

You gasp softly as your eyes meet Chuuya's, his eyes widened in disbelief before his expression softens with a wave of emotions you can't quite decipher.

Unable to maintain eye contact, you lower your gaze, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Chuuya starts to speak, his voice cracking with emotion as he tries to process your sudden appearance. “What are you—”

Before he can say more, Dazai intervenes, pushing Chuuya back and closing the door behind him with a loud thud.

“We'll discuss this later.” he remarks casually, turning to Mori who stands from his seat to acknowledge your presence.

You hesitantly look up at Mori, finding a small smile playing on his lips. He steps closer to where you stand.

“It's been a long time, [Your name]-kun.” he says warmly, his tone carrying familiarity and concern.

You nod silently, uncertain of what to say. His expression turns curious. “If you don't mind me asking, what brings you here? Dazai-kun mentioned you turned down his offer to join our organization.”

Dazai interjects with a pout, his voice almost whining. “That's true. She even punched me.” he adds, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly where your fist had landed.

You clench your fists at your sides, teeth gritted, struggling to keep your emotions in check. You muster all your strength to speak without your voice cracking. “I'm here to join the Mafia.”

Mori hums thoughtfully, studying you. “Do you truly mean that, or are you here because Dazai-kun pressured you?”

Dazai groans defensively. “What are you talking about, boss? I didn't pressured anyone. In fact, I even helped her.”

Mori tilts his head slightly. “Is that so? Then what's that cloth tied around your wrist, Dazai-kun?”

You glance at Dazai's wrist and notice a loose end of cloth, as if it had been cut. It triggers a realization, and you feel a knot form in your stomach. You look down at your own wrist, noticing a piece of cloth hanging loosely from under your sleeve.

Horror and disbelief wash over you as the truth dawns.

It makes sense now why your ability didn't activate earlier— it was nullified by Dazai's ability.

It makes sense now why the man who planned to assault you paid no attention to Dazai, it was all Dazai's scheme to manipulate the situation and force you into joining the Mafia against your will.

Slowly, you turn to face Dazai, a shattered expression on your face. He meets your gaze with a knowing grin.

Sensing the tension in the air, Mori sighs deeply. “What have you done, Dazai-kun?”

Dazai waves his hands defensively. “Nothing! I simply wanted to see [Your name]-chan again, that's all.”

You struggle against overwhelming emotions threatening to engulf you. Mori glances between you and Dazai. “We'll discuss this further when [Your name]-kun is in a better state. Both of you are dismissed.”

Dazai beams at Mori's decision and takes your hand, pulling you away from the office as the door closes behind you.

Chuuya, who had been waiting outside, straightens up. His heart sinks as he watches you emerge from the office, your usual vibrancy replaced by a haunting emptiness etched across your features.

His concern deepens, evident in the furrow of his brows and the way his hands hover uncertainly at his sides. He takes a hesitant step forward, his breath hitches in his throat as he prepares to reach out to you.

“[Your name].” Chuuya's voice is soft, tentative, laced with worry as he tries to bridge the distance between you. His eyes search yours, hoping to find some flicker of recognition, of the person he knows so well.

You lift your gaze, meeting Chuuya's eyes with a blank stare that sends a chill through him. It's as if a barrier has risen between you, leaving him helpless in the face of your numbness.

Chuuya's hand hangs in the air for a fleeting moment before he withdraws it, uncertainty tightening his chest. 

Without a word, you move towards the elevator, Dazai trailing beside you. Chuuya stands rooted to the spot, stunned by your dismissal, uncertain if he's already been shut out.

He pivots to watch you go, a knot of frustration and hurt tightening in his gut. Your indifference cuts deep, leaving him grappling with the jagged edges of his own emotions. He meets Dazai's gaze, finding an infuriating smirk aimed his way, a silent challenge that ignites a smoldering anger within him.

Dazai's arm wraps around your shoulders possessively, a gesture that twists Chuuya's insides with resentment. His jaw clenches, muscles tensing as he fights the urge to intervene, to demand answers from the suicidal bastard.

The elevator doors slide closed with a soft, final click, sealing you both in a private space of steel and glass. Unnoticed by anyone but Dazai, tears begin to trace silent paths down your cheeks.

You make no move to wipe them away, your gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the elevator walls, lost in a world of weariness and quiet despair.

Dazai steps closer. “Let's go to my room,” he suggests cheerily. “I have an extra room around here.”

Your head leans heavily against the cool glass, eyes slipping shut as if to shut out the overwhelming emotions. Dazai's attempt to coax a response from you is met with silence. A faint pout crosses his features, a fleeting expression of frustration at your unresponsiveness.

The elevator doors open again, and Dazai guides you towards his room. You move mechanically, guided more by habit than conscious thought.

Upon entering Dazai's room, you move directly towards his bed, sinking down onto the mattress with a sigh that speaks volumes of your exhaustion. You lay on your side, facing away from Dazai, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of solitude.

Dazai watches you silently and pulls a blanket over you, tucking it around your form. He slips onto the bed on the opposite side, leaving a distance between you.

As consciousness filters back into your senses, the absence of Dazai in the room is the first thing that registers in your mind. The sheets beside you are cool, evidence that he hasn't been there for some time. Blinking away the remnants of a night spent in tears, you sit up slowly.

You turn towards the nightstand and notice a neatly folded pile of clothes and accessories. They are unmistakably in Elise's style, a subtle but clear message that Mori must have arranged for them. You reach out and pick up the clothes, fingers tracing the familiar fabric. The gesture brings gratitude and unease— gratitude for the consideration, unease for the implications.

Taking the hint, you gather the clothes and make your way silently to the bathing area. The sound of running water becomes a comforting background noise as you step into the shower, letting the warmth soothe away the physical and emotional ache. Each drop that hits your skin feels like a gentle cleanse, washing away the remnants of anguish and uncertainty.

Freshly dressed in the provided attire, you stand before the mirror, adjusting to the unfamiliar sight reflected back at you. Stepping tentatively outside the room, you scan the corridor for any sign of Chuuya. The coast appears clear, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips involuntarily.

As you start walking, you take in your surroundings with curiosity and caution. The air is still, the silence broken only by distant echoes of conversations and occasional footsteps.

You move with cautious steps, observing everything with heightened senses. Turning a corner, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face in passing, causing your heart to skip a beat momentarily.

But it's just a passing agent, focused on their own mission, you continue on, navigating the corridors when unexpectedly, you're startled by the embrace from behind, a yelp escaping your lips as your heart races with surprise. Spinning around, you find Dazai standing there, his usual coat absent but a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

“[Your name]-chan!” he exclaims loudly, pulling you closer into his embrace.

You scowl and try to pull away, but his hold tightens. “Get off me.” you demand.

Dazai leans in closer. “Are you still angry?”

You push a hand against his chest to create some distance. “You manipulated that man to attack me. How can I not be angry?” The hardness in your glare matches the edge in your voice.

Dazai lets out a heavy sigh, stepping back and clasping his hands behind his back. His expression turns serious as he meets your gaze. “I intended to intervene regardless. Yes, I orchestrated those events to push you towards joining the Mafia, but it was inevitable considering your circumstances living on the streets.”

Arms folded across your chest, you bristle with anger. “Your excuses don't justify your actions. You're sick, Dazai.”

He raises a brow, a dark smirk dancing on his lips. “Ah, so you would have preferred I left you to fend for yourself? Let them have their way with you?”

Your anger boils over, and you step closer, delivering a sharp slap across his cheek. “I never said that! This isn't about me— it's about your manipulative and twisted, sick games.”

Dazai avoids your gaze and speaks quietly. “No, this is about you,” he murmurs. “You're acting like a naive child. If you had just accepted my offer...”

You instinctively retreat from him, his words cutting through the air with a chilling clarity. He exhales heavily, his gaze fixed on you as he closes the distance once more.

Dazai's presence looms over you, and his voice, when he speaks again, is a low murmur against your ear.

“I just wanted to save you from your misery. Is that too much to ask?” His breath tickles your skin.

You flinch involuntarily, rooted in place by his words. Each word stitches together a fabric of observations that feel invasive yet strangely intimate.

“I've been watching you every single day,” Dazai continues, his voice carrying a strange mixture of remorse and twisted satisfaction. “Scavenging for food like a rat, sleeping on the streets. Seeing you on the brink of despair made me incredibly happy because it meant you were at your limit, ready to give up.”

His words paint a picture of a man who finds solace in the vulnerability of others, who sees salvation in manipulation. Your pulse quickens and fear grips you, not just of Dazai's intentions but of the unsettling realization that perhaps, in his distorted worldview, he believes he's acting out of some twisted form of care.

His confession leaves you reeling, frozen in place. “That's not true.” you protest. “You're delusional.”

Dazai hums softly, pulling away to meet your gaze with a knowing look. “You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you know you needed me, [Your name]-chan.” His smile is infuriatingly confident as he takes your hand. “It's late. Let's grab some breakfast.”

After a meal at a nearby restaurant, Dazai leads you to an abandoned warehouse near the port. Wooden crates clutter the space, casting long shadows in the dim light.

Suddenly, he presses you against the rough wall, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widen in shock before he pulls away, leaving you breathless and bewildered.

“I'm going to start training you.” he declares nonchalantly.

Wide-eyed, you stare at him before irritation replaces your astonishment. “Was that kiss really necessary? You could have warned me”

Dazai simply grins, his arrogance evident. “It's not a big deal, right?”

You scowl at him, then turn away. “Whatever. Let's get started. I'm going to kick your ass, Dazai.”

Dazai's smug grin only grows as he folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, yeah? We'll see about that.”

Time crawls by, an hour or more slipping away in a blur of pain and relentless training. Suddenly, you find yourself hurtling through the air, crashing into the wall with a thud that jolts your entire body.

“Argh!”

Dazai's figure looms over you, an ominous presence in the room. “You're too slow, [Your name]-chan.” he chides, his voice laced with irritation and calculated critique.

Struggling to your feet, you wipe away the blood trickling from your split lip, the metallic taste mingling with your frustration. “You piece of shit, you're way too fucking fast!” The words burst out, fueled by equal parts pain and defiance.

Dazai groans audibly, his impatience evident. “Your ability is really taking its sweet time to activate.”

Gasping for breath, you shoot him a venomous glare. “Shut up. I'm still trying to adjust, you bastard.”

Before you can react, Dazai closes the distance with alarming speed, delivering a punishing kick to your stomach.

Instinctively, a blade materializes from your arm to intercept the blow, but upon contact with Dazai's attack, it dissolves into shimmering blue light. The force of the impact sends you tumbling backward, crashing painfully onto the ground with a sickening crunch.

“Ugh... it hurts...” you cry out, your face pressed against the ground from the impact.

Dazai places both hands in his pockets, crouching down beside you. “Haaah. You're all bark, [Your name]-chan.”

Bruised and battered, you summon every ounce of strength, your aching arm trembling as you raise a defiant middle finger towards him.

You slowly force your body to sit up, every movement sending waves of pain through your battered frame. Blood trickles from your split lip, staining your chin, and your clothes bear the scars of your intense training session— holes and tears from the relentless use of your ability. Exhausted, you struggle to catch your breath in the aftermath of the brutal training.

Dazai observes you silently for a moment before finally speaking. “Was I too rough?”

Your glare pierces through the weariness, frustration evident in your eyes. “For someone just starting out, yes. Those nasty kicks came out of nowhere.”

A chuckle escapes him. “I was testing your ability's reaction time. It protected you, but remember, real threats won't wait for you to prepare.”

Frustration tightens your jaw, and a sharp pain in your side makes you wince. Dazai playfully pouts, taking both your cheeks in his hands and leaning in to kiss your lips. You tense, ready to retaliate with your free hand, but he anticipates your move, halting you before any force is exerted.

“Let me kiss you.” he insists, pulling back slightly.

Your glare turns to one of pure resentment. “If kissing me could mend all these wounds, maybe I'd consider it, but you are one sick—”

He cuts you off, pressing his lips urgently against yours. His kiss is not gentle; it's filled with an intensity that catches you off guard. Without breaking the kiss, he starts to push you backward until your body is lying on the dirty ground.

You close your eyes, your mind racing with overflowing thoughts of how satisfying it will be to exact revenge on him later.

Weeks pass, and your training sessions with Dazai take an unexpected turn. What started as rigorous practice soon devolves into moments punctuated by kisses rather than drills.

The frustration mounts until one day, unable to bear it any longer, you lash out, your fist connecting squarely with Dazai's face. His shock quickly turns to anger, igniting a fierce exchange that transforms the session from training into a heated battle.

Dazai's movements are lightning-fast. However, weeks of studying his techniques have sharpened your own skills, allowing you to keep pace with his attacks. When his kick lands hard on your stomach, you seize the momentum, activating your ability.

A razor-sharp blade extends from your arm, leaving a shallow cut on Dazai's cheek before dissipating upon contact with his skin.

Driven by fury and determination, you unleash a barrage of attacks. Roundhouse kicks and sudden blade formations catch Dazai off guard, your strikes too swift for him to counter effectively.

In the midst of the battle, your thoughts drift to Chuuya, his hurt expression vivid in your mind's eye. The distraction proves costly as Dazai takes the opportunity to land a solid punch. Pain surges through your body as you collide with the wall, grunting in agony. Briefly, your vision blurs, and you shake your head to clear it.

You struggle to regain your breath as Dazai watches you with a raised eyebrow, his voice cutting through the aftermath of the clash. “You're distracted. What were you thinking about?”

Gasping for breath, you gather yourself and reply defiantly, “Nothing.” With gritted teeth, you push off the wall and activate your ability once more, determined to refocus and continue the intense training.

It takes you a whole month of deliberation before you finally step into Mori's office, your mind made up and determination etched on your face.

Inside, the boss of the Port Mafia greets you with a knowing smile, and beside him, Elise beams with excitement, clutching a handful of brightly colored crayons. You feel the weight of Dazai's black coat draped over your shoulders, a reminder of the path you've chosen and the challenges ahead.

Summoning all your resolve, you lower yourself to one knee. “Boss,” you begin, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I am ready to commit myself to the Port Mafia. I pledge my loyalty and all that I am to you.”

Mori rises gracefully from his seat, his smile warm and approving as he looks down at you. “Welcome to the Port Mafia, [Full name]-kun.”

Elise can't contain her joy, bouncing around with unabashed enthusiasm. “Yay! Yay! [Your name] is finally back!”

Mori's expression softens even more, a glimmer of excitement twinkling in his eyes as he produces a dress seemingly out of thin air and offers it to you. “Now that you're part of us, how about trying on this dress? I think it would look good on you!”

You blink up at him, taken aback by the unexpected offer. “...Pardon?”

Elise scowls at Mori and gives him a firm push out of her sight. “Later, Rintarou!” she says with obvious irritation, then turns to you with a sweet smile. “Hey, [Your name]! I've got some brand new crayons here. Wanna try them with me?”

Your eager nod is met with her infectious giggling as she takes your hand, leading you into another room.

Inside, she offers you an array of colorful crayons and hands you a sketchbook. You accept it gratefully, thanking her, and together you begin to sketch each other.

Elise chats animatedly as you listen with a warm smile, the atmosphere buzzing with her contagious energy. Afterward, she presents a variety of sweet treats, and both of you indulge happily, pretending to be connoisseurs as you critique each delicacy.

Laughter echoes through the room until Dazai suddenly barges in, holding a large bouquet of flowers. “[Your name]-chan!” he calls out enthusiastically.

Your bright smiling face twists into irritation. “What are you doing here?”

Elise chuckles at your reaction.

Dazai thrusts the bouquet into your hands. You look down to find a bunch of spider lilies wrapped in a piece of newspaper. Reluctantly accepting them, you give Dazai an exasperated look.

“What is it this time?” you demand.

“Welcome to the Port Mafia!” he declares cheerfully, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips.

Your eyes widen in shock, and you quickly pull away, turning to Elise's direction. Her smile freezes on her face, her eyes darting between yours and Dazai's.

An awkward silence lingers until Elise's small voice breaks it. “I didn't know you two are together.”

You slap Dazai with the bouquet in your hand. “We are not!”

Dazai lets out an exaggerated “Ouch!” in response, clearly reveling in the mischief he's caused.

Excusing yourself, you grab Dazai by his collar and forcefully drag him out of the room, away from prying eyes and ears until you're both standing outside Mori's office.

The moment you're alone, you whip your body around to face him, your eyes flashing with anger and frustration. “...You! Don't you dare do that again in front of Elise.”

Dazai leans back against the wall, his expression shifting from mischief to mild petulance. “Fine, I won't. I'll save it for the boss next time.” He pause. “And Chuuya too.”

Your glare hardens, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Dazai, I mean it. Not in front of everyone.”

He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Fine, fine. I won't. Happy now?”

Finally feeling some tension release from your shoulders, you narrow your eyes at him. “Good. If you do it again, you won't like the consequences.”

Dazai's interest is piqued by your threat, and he raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What will you do?”

Your narrowed eyes betray your contemplation, ideas racing through various scenarios. Without filtering your thoughts, you blurt out. “I'm going to find someone and commit a double suicide with him.”

Dazai's mouth drops open in disbelief, but he quickly masks it with nonchalance, shrugging casually. “Go ahead. I'll kill him before he even lays a finger on you.”

The fleeting satisfaction of catching Dazai off guard quickly turns to annoyance again. “Whatever. I'll find another way.”

Humming thoughtfully, Dazai wears a smug grin. “Give it a try, if you dare.”

You meet his gaze defiantly, scowling deeply. “Oh, I will.”

Dazai glances over your shoulder briefly before continuing. “Hmm... As a sign of promise, I won't kiss you again in front of everyone if you grant me a small wish.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at his antics. “You're ridiculous. Why would I believe you?”

Chin held high, Dazai maintains his pride. “A suicide enthusiast does not back down on his words.”

After a moment's consideration, you reluctantly ask, “What's the favor?”

Dazai gestures casually towards his lips. “A kiss from you, [Your name]-chan.”

You recoil with a disgusted noise. “No way.”

Dazai whines teasingly. “Why not? We've kissed plenty of times already.”

Avoiding his gaze, you assert firmly, “You kissed me. I'm not the one kissing you.”

Dazai leans closer, a teasing smirk on his face. “Why not? It's no big deal for us, right? Or are you starting to change your mind, [Your name]-chan?”

Gasping at his audacity, you grab his necktie and draw him closer. “As if. Don't get too ahead of yourself, asshole.”

Dazai's eyes darken slightly as he continues to provoke you. “Then why can't you do it?”

You glare at him with venom before impulsively capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Dazai responds, melting into the kiss and you pull away abruptly.

“Are you satisfied now?”

Dazai's smile is triumphant now. “Yup! I'm more satisfied than you could ever imagine.”

“Great, because this will be the first and last time I'll kiss you. It's not going to happen anymore.”

“Huuuh. If that's the case... Can we do it one more time?” he implores, his eyes widening with a pleading, puppy-dog look. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You flash a bright smile at him, deliver one final slap with the bouquet, and then turn away.

“Ouch! Hey, that hurts a lot! Wait. Where are you going, [Your name]-chan?”

“Away from you, weirdo.”

Fixing your gaze ahead, you spot Chuuya standing a few meters away, his expression inscrutable.

Chapter Text

Your mouth suddenly goes dry as your eyes meet Chuuya's across the corridor. The sharpness of his gaze makes your heart pound, and a cold sweat forms on your forehead. Internally, dread seizes you as you wonder if he somehow saw the kiss you shared with Dazai earlier. You mentally scold yourself for being duped by Dazai's absurd schemes once again. Despite the anxiety bubbling inside you, you force yourself to maintain a stoic and composed exterior.

Without uttering a single word, you swiftly avert your gaze, turning back towards the door leading to Mori's office. The polished wood of the door feels cool against your fingertips as you grasp the handle, desperately seeking refuge from the uncomfortable encounter.

“Oh?” Dazai's voice cuts through your anxious thoughts, dripping with curiosity. “Are you not going to talk to him, [Your name]-chan? He's right there, you know.” His tone is laced with a teasing edge, amplifying the discomfort that already knots in your stomach.

You cast Dazai a sidelong glare, your eyes narrowing slightly in frustration. His playful smirk only deepens your unease. You roll your eyes at him and turn on your heel to enter the office, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft thud. Bowing your head respectfully as a reflexive gesture, you move toward the adjoining room. The door to the inner office opens with a slight creak, revealing Elise's figure. You make a beeline for her, eager to escape the awkward situation with Chuuya.

Elise's face lights up with a radiant smile as she sees you. “[Your name]! I thought you weren't coming back.” she exclaims, her voice carrying a hint of surprise.

As she speaks, you notice how the light from the nearby window catches in her blonde hair, casting a soft glow around her. “Geez, Dazai really consumes most of your time.” she adds, her tone light and amused. Her comment carries a familiar affection, as if she's used to seeing you caught up in Dazai's antics.

Your heart quickens at her words, but you brush off her concern with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I just had a quick chat with that annoying bastard.” you explain vaguely, trying to downplay the encounter.

Elise hums thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing slightly as she senses the unease in your tone. However, she decides not to press further, opting to shift the focus to something more pleasant. “Is that so? Here, have some of my drawings.” she offers with a warm smile, extending a handful of sketches towards you.

Gratefully, you accept the collection of drawings, their crisp edges brushing against your fingers. You gently lower yourself onto the soft, plush carpet beside Elise, the fibers sinking pleasantly beneath you.

Elise sits down next to you, her presence a comforting anchor. As you begin to browse through the drawings—each one showcasing her talent and imagination—you find your attention divided. Despite the visual distraction of her artwork, your thoughts keep drifting back to Chuuya. His piercing gaze lingers in your mind. The memory of his intense stare unsettles you, leaving you to wonder about the possible implications of his expression and the tension it created.

“I knew it already. Joining the Mafia was the wrong choice,” you silently muse, your thoughts clouded with frustration. “I'm still not ready to face and talk with Chuuya-kun. What should I do?”

You run a hand through your hair, feeling the beginnings of a headache pulsing at your temples. The more you try to focus on the artwork, the more the image of Chuuya's expression intrudes on your thoughts.

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm the storm inside. The thought of confronting him seems daunting, and you find yourself questioning if you have the strength to navigate the delicate situation.

After spending most of the day with Elise, her cheerful company a welcome distraction from your earlier concerns, she insists on accompanying you back to your temporary room where you're staying with Dazai. As you both step into the elevator, Elise's hand finds yours, her grip surprisingly firm and reassuring even as the doors slide shut with a soft, metallic whoosh.

The hum of the elevator and the faint scent of floral perfume from Elise's presence create a serene contrast to the questions swirling in your mind. Her bright eyes reflect curiosity and playfulness as she turns to you, catching you off guard with her next words.

“Say, [Your name],” Elise begins casually, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness that you didn't expect. “Do you like Dazai?”

The question lands like a splash of cold water. You inhale sharply, your breath catching in your throat as you process the unexpected query. The elevator's gentle movement and the soft ding of the floor buttons seem to fade into the background as you focus on Elise's probing gaze.

“What the heck? Where did that come from?” you exclaim, your eyes wide with astonishment. You give her a puzzled look, struggling to understand her sudden question. The flicker of amusement in her eyes and the playful tilt of her head only add to your sense of disorientation.

Elise chuckles softly, her eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. Her grip on your hand tightens slightly, a gesture of both warmth and curiosity. “I'm just curious. When I first saw you, I thought you liked Chuuya.”

At the mention of Chuuya's name, you feel a slight, almost imperceptible jolt in your chest. Hesitantly, you open your mouth to respond, “The one I like is Chuuya-kun...”

Elise's eyes narrow knowingly, her expression shifting to one of satisfied confirmation. “I knew it!” she says with a hint of triumph, as if she's uncovered a well-kept secret.

You let out a sigh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. You shift awkwardly on the spot, your gaze wandering to the polished glass walls of the elevator. “Let's not talk about this. You're too young to be asking about such things.”

Elise's face momentarily falls into a playful scowl, her brows furrowing in mock indignation. “I'm ten years old and you're only four years older than me.” she retorts.

You reply with a huff, shaking your head slightly. “Still, you're a kid.” The words are meant to deflect, but Elise's reaction is swift and dramatic. She makes a face, sticking out her tongue in exaggerated disapproval before pursing her lips.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and your annoyance spikes as Dazai's familiar face fills your view. His presence is like an unwelcome intrusion to your brief moment of peace.

“Ugh.” you mutter under your breath, a hint of displeasure in your voice.

Dazai's eyes light up at the sight of you, and he immediately brightens with his trademark shit-eating grin. “[Your name]-chan!” he exclaims loudly. He reaches out eagerly to take your hand, but you react quickly, pressing the elevator button to close the doors.

However, Dazai is quicker than expected. He deftly wedges his foot between the doors, preventing them from closing. “Oops, not so fast!” he says with a mischievous smirk.

You groan in frustration, the sound escaping involuntarily as you watch him. Elise stands beside you, her expression one of quiet amusement and contemplation. She shifts her gaze between you and Dazai, taking in the unfolding scene with interest.

Dazai's eyes then drop to your intertwined hands with Elise, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. He moves forward, extending his hand to grasp your wrist with a firm, yet casual grip. “Let's go, [Your name]-chan! Great timing. I was just about to find you.”

Elise, however, isn't ready to let go. She pouts, her small hand gripping yours with a surprising strength. Her eyes narrow slightly as she locks eyes with Dazai, neither willing to relinquish their hold.

The standoff continues in the small space of the elevator, each of them steadfast in their position. You stand silently, your patience wearing thin as you wait for the silent battle of wills to conclude.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, you turn to Elise. “I'll see you again tomorrow, if I have the time.” you say, your voice softening as you offer her a reassuring smile.

Elise's expression brightens as she breaks eye contact with Dazai, her face lighting up with a warm, understanding smile. “Okay! See ya, [Your name]!” She squeezes your hand affectionately one last time before releasing it, her touch lingering briefly.

Stepping out of the elevator, you glance up at Dazai. His previously playful demeanor has shifted to a more serious expression, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that contrasts sharply with his earlier behavior. Shaking his head slightly, he releases your wrist with a subtle sigh and turns away.

Taking this as your cue, you follow after him. As you walk together and step outside the main building of the Port Mafia headquarters, the city hums around you—distant conversations, the occasional honk of a car, and the faint whirr of bicycles passing by. Even with the vibrant energy of the metropolis, a quiet unease settles over you both, amplifying the silence that stretches between your words.

Dazai leads you to the Osanbashi Pier, where the view unfurls in a breathtaking panorama. The Minatomirai skyline sparkles in the distance, a dazzling array of neon lights reflecting off the dark, rippling waters below. The colors of the city—vivid blues, fiery reds, and shimmering golds—dance across the surface of the bay, creating a mesmerizing contrast to the deep, velvety darkness of the night sky.

You sit beside him on the cool, dewy grass, stretching your legs and letting out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. The ground beneath you is slightly damp from the evening dew, and the gentle breeze coming off the water carries a crisp freshness, lightly blowing through your hair. Your gaze is fixed ahead, drawn to the shimmering lights and the dark silhouette of distant cruises drifting lazily across the horizon.

Dazai, seated beside you, remains silent, his gaze lost in the same distant lights. His usual smirk is absent, replaced by a contemplative expression that makes you wonder what's going on behind his enigmatic eyes.

You hesitate, caught in the grip of oppressive silence that hangs heavily between you and Dazai. The quiet is thick, filled with an unspoken tension that wraps around you, making it hard to breathe. His silence is a warning bell—it's not often he's this quiet, and when he is, it usually means he's mulling over something potentially dangerous or unsettling.

When you steal a glance at him, his eyes are shadowed, almost menacing. The usual spark of mischief or warmth is nowhere visible, giving way to a brooding stillness that sends a shiver down your spine. His expression is a mask of calm but with an underlying edge that makes your stomach churn.

Damn it, you mentally curse, frustration and anxiety gnawing at your insides. What the hell should I do? You glance at him again, but his face remains an impenetrable facade. Did something happen? You internally groan, the thought of potential trouble making your heart race. I hope not.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turn your gaze downward, focusing on his hand resting at his side. The fingers are spread out, relaxed but somehow tense, as if they're coiled for something. You bite your lower lip in embarrassment, your cheeks flushing as you tentatively reach out. Your hand moves slowly, almost hesitantly, until it rests lightly on his.

You thank the gods for the dimly lit pier, the city lights in the distance casting a faint glow that obscures your face. You don't want Dazai to see the color that has undoubtedly risen to your cheeks. It's not that you're trying to comfort him—far from it. You're simply trying to avoid any unnecessary trouble, hoping to escape tomorrow's training sessions without too many bruises.

As your hand rests on his, a faint tremor of warmth and courage runs through you, blending with the apprehension. The gentle touch is a silent plea, a way to bridge the chasm of silence without breaking it, and you hope it conveys a sense of cautious support in the face of the uneasy stillness.

To your surprise—and more likely, horror—Dazai pulls his hand away from yours, returning it to his side with a casual, almost indifferent motion. The sudden withdrawal makes you stiffen, your heart pounding with disbelief.

“Did this ungrateful bastard just reject me?” The thought sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you glare at the distant city lights, their faint twinkle now feeling like a cold, indifferent mockery. Well, that's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you won't be extending it again.

You purse your lips tightly, the muscles in your face taut with frustration. You try to unravel the reasons behind Dazai's sudden shift in demeanor, but your thoughts keep drifting back to the time when you left him and Chuuya. “Did something happen to them while I wasn't around?” The question lingers, casting a shadow of worry over your growing irritation.

You let out a soft sigh, the sound barely audible over the ambient noise of the city.

Dazai's earlier words replay in your head, and you can't help but flush at the memory of him asking for a kiss. The thought makes your face redden, and you wince inwardly. As if! The idea of kissing him again feels utterly absurd now, whether in this universe or any other. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to block out the intrusive memory. The cringe-worthy thought makes you shudder, and you mentally chastise yourself for even considering it.

Elise was right. You've been changing, your behavior subtly but unmistakably shifting. The time you spend with Dazai seems to be consuming you, pulling you away from who you used to be. Steeling yourself, you cast another hesitant glance in his direction, and you silently gasp at the sight. His eyes are even more menacing now, their darkness almost tangible. If his glare had physical weight, Minatomirai would be reduced to rubble.

You exhale a shaky breath, feeling the stifling tension in the air. Turning to face him fully, you try to bridge the gap. “Dazai, what's wrong?” Your voice is steady, though concern lingers beneath the surface.

Dazai glances at you briefly, his expression unreadable, before looking away. It feels like an eternity before he responds with a clipped, “Nothing.” His tone is cold and dismissive, each word wrapped in layers of ice.

“Something's wrong. Tell me.” you insist, leaning slightly closer into his space. His body tenses, and he turns sideways, attempting to distance himself from your approach. Before he can move further, you reach out, your hands finding his cheeks with a firm but gentle touch. You guide his face to meet your determined eyes, hoping to break through his barrier.

For a moment, his gaze meets yours, but then he defiantly averts his eyes. You let out a frustrated groan. “You're such a child, Dazai.” you mutter before closing the gap between you and capturing his lips with yours. Dazai's body stiffens at the unexpected kiss, but he soon melts into it, his initial resistance giving way to a more receptive response as he deepens the kiss.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are wide, a mixture of surprise and almost vulnerability evident. “So, what is it?” you ask, searching his face for answers.

His expression slowly shifts to one of annoyance. “Chuuya's getting on my nerves, that's all.” he mutters, his irritation barely concealed. “He said something funny, and I can't stop thinking about it.” He continues in a mumble, as if trying to convince himself more than you. “You may have met him first, [Your name]-chan, but I was the one who came back for you, right? He abandoned you to save himself and to learn something about his past.”

You watch him, your eyes widening slightly at his words. You let out an amused scoff. “You're funny, Dazai.”

Dazai raises an eyebrow, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Huh?”

Your expression softens into a small, genuine grin. “It's true that I was hurt because of what Chuuya-kun did to me, but that's all in the past.” A hint of wistfulness colors your voice. “I used to spend a lot of time with him since we were little, and,” you continue, your heart aching, “I've decided to put it all behind me and focus on the present without dwelling too much on the past. Though I'll be honest and say that I'm still not ready to talk to him.” You admit, the honesty bringing a bittersweet pang to your chest.

Dazai remains silent, his gaze locked on yours. Slowly, he reaches out and places his hands on your cheeks, his touch tender as he wipes away the tears you hadn't realized were falling. The gesture is gentle, a contrast to his earlier coldness. Then, closing the distance between you, he presses his lips to yours once more. You surrender to the moment, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of his kiss envelop you.

“You can just have me, [Your name]-chan,” he murmurs against your lips. “I will not do something that will hurt you.”

The reassurance, however, proves to be short-lived. Early the next morning, the harsh reality sets in. You find yourself sent flying when Dazai delivers a swift kick, slamming into the wall with such force that stars dance across your vision. Your body slides down, and you struggle to steady yourself with both hands, gasping for breath.

“You're moving too slow. Again.” Dazai clicks his tongue, his voice dripping with disapproval as he looks down at you.

Gritting your teeth, you stagger to your feet, swaying slightly. You activate your ability, One Hundred Years of Solitude, with long, sharp blades extending from your arms. You launch into a swift, coordinated attack, the blades appearing and vanishing from different parts of your body in a blur of motion.

Dazai seems momentarily distracted by the shifting blades, giving you the opening you need. You land a solid kick to his stomach, using the distraction to your advantage.

The training session drags on for hours. By late afternoon, you collapse to the ground, exhausted. Bruises are forming across every inch of your skin from Dazai's relentless assaults, and blood trickles from the corner of your mouth. Dust clings to you as you catch your breath, each inhale sending a sharp pain through your chest.

On the other hand, Dazai's demeanor remains as inscrutable as it was during your training this morning. The only visible change is a shallow cut marring his cheek—a result of your ability. He strides over to you with the same nonchalant air, then crouches down in front of you.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice carrying an almost indifferent tone.

You manage to force your head up, your neck aching with the effort. Your eyes meet his with a glare brimming with disdain. “Do I look okay to you?”

A slow, unsettling smirk spreads across Dazai's lips. “You look utterly miserable.” he replies, the amusement in his voice betraying a hint of satisfaction.

“Thanks to you.” you retort. The effort to sit upright sends a fresh jolt of pain through your body, and you can't help but groan, the sound escaping involuntarily.

Dazai's eyes move over your battered form, taking in the bruises and cuts that mar your skin. He chuckles softly, the sound carrying a strange blend of amusement and comfort despite the dire situation. Reaching into his slack pockets, he pulls out a bundle of rolled bandages, then stands and heads to the back of the warehouse. He emerges from a concealed corner with a first aid kit, its location remaining a mystery to you. Returning to your side, he begins tending to your wounds with methodical precision.

You allow him to work, closing your eyes to avoid the sight of his movements. Each touch is both a comfort and a source of discomfort; his fingers are surprisingly gentle as they work over your bruised skin, a stark difference from the forceful way he had thrown you across the room earlier. The sting of antiseptic makes you wince, but you bear it in silence, your breath catching occasionally as he works to clean and bandage your injuries.

Dazai's touch is careful and almost tender as he applies the bandages, his expression focused and serious. There's a strange, soothing quality to his ministrations, as if he's trying to make amends for the roughness of your earlier encounter.

“Son of a bitch!” you suddenly cry out as he presses down on your injured ankle. The pain shoots up your leg like electric shocks, and a blue light flares around the area, casting a glow on your distressed face. You can see the corners of Dazai's mouth twitching as he struggles to suppress a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges with barely contained mirth.

“One of your blades got stuck, [Your name]-chan.” he says incredulously, his eyes dancing with amusement and sympathy. You whip your head in horror to check the injury, but he adds, “I already nullified it. It's gone now.”

“What the hell? Is that even possible?” you whine.

When you try to move your leg, a jolt of agony shoots through you, and you cry out in frustration. The pain is sharp and unforgiving, making your entire leg feel like it's on fire.

Dazai blinks at you, his expression shifting to one of sheepish regret. His eyes soften, though his grin remains stubbornly in place. “I think I took it too far this time.” he admits.

“Shut the fuck up!” you scream at him, your voice cracking with fury and exasperation.

The sound of your slap cuts through the air with a sharp crack, connecting with his face. His head snaps to the side from the force of the hit, his smirk vanishing in an instant as he stares at you, stunned.

“What the hell?” Dazai exclaims in a strained voice. His eyes narrow into fierce slits, and his face contorts into a scowl.

Without warning, he yanks on your hair with a rough grip, causing a sharp pain that makes you gasp. Reacting instinctively, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug back, your fingers digging in.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch! Let go of me!” you cry out. You wrench his hair with equal fervor, your frustration mingling with the throbbing ache in your scalp. The warehouse echoes with your combined cries, a chaotic symphony of irritation and pain.

“You let go first!” Dazai shouts back. His grip on your hair tightens, and his face is flushed with determination. His eyes are blazing, the intensity of his anger evident in every sharp movement.

The struggle continues, an intense battle of wills as each of you pulls and tugs, neither willing to relent. The commotion escalates until the shrill ring of a phone cuts through the chaos. Both of you freeze, hands still gripping each other's hair.

The ringing intensifies, and you each glance at your phones in unison. It's Dazai's phone, and you reluctantly withdraw your hand from his hair, stuffing your own phone back into your pocket. You watch him with an exasperated expression, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Dazai answers the call with a languid yawn, his tone bored and detached. As he listens, his eyes wander around the warehouse, reflecting an air of casual disinterest. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for him to finish.

After a few minutes, Dazai hangs up the call and turns to you, his face unreadable. His eyes are calm, but there's a hint of something lurking beneath the surface—a flicker of amusement or perhaps something darker.

“What is it?” you ask hesitantly.

A sinister smile slowly spreads across Dazai's face, transforming his features into a mask of dark amusement. “We have a mission together tomorrow.” he announces, his voice smooth and dripping with satisfaction.

You raise an eyebrow, your mind racing to process the implication. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Dazai adds with a mocking edge to his tone, “With Chuuya.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your heart sinks as a cold wave of dread washes over you. You try to steady your racing pulse, but the anxiety is clear in your trembling voice. “With Chuuya-kun...?”

Dazai nods, his smile widening into a grin that sends shivers down your spine. “That's right. This will be fun.” he says with a cruel laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief and malice.

The prospect of facing Chuuya alongside Dazai seems almost too much to bear, and you can't help but feel a sinking dread at the thought of what's to come.

There's a saying that if you dread the arrival of tomorrow, the day will slip by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, you're facing the very thing you feared. Whether it's a fragment of wisdom or just your mind's attempt to distract you, the feeling of apprehension clings to you as you make your way toward the boss's office.

Dazai, that infuriatingly absent presence, has left you alone to grapple with your nerves. You find yourself wishing for his annoying chatter to drown out the looming presence of Chuuya. But no, he's abandoned you to face your dread alone. As you approach the door, it feels as though it grows larger with each step, casting a shadow over your resolve.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the anxiety that wraps itself around you like a suffocating fog. You steel yourself, forcing an air of nonchalance as you grasp the door handle and push it open.

The moment you step inside, Dazai's voice greets you. “Oh, there she is! Hi, [Your name]-chan!” he exclaims with exaggerated enthusiasm.

You throw him a withering glare before allowing your gaze to briefly skim over Chuuya, who remains stony-faced and aloof. You take your place beside Dazai, the three of you now aligned in front of Mori's imposing desk.

Mori regards you with a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with a blend of amusement and curiosity. Elise, standing off to the side, flashes you a teasing grin. You respond with a playful scowl, which makes her giggle as she quickly looks away, her shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

The room lapses into an awkward silence as no one seems willing to break it. Finally, Dazai's voice slices through the quiet, his tone laced with feigned innocence. “Are we going to have a staring competition here?” he asks. “If that's the case, I'll let [Your name]-chan and Chuuya start the game. In three, two, one—”

You stomp hard on his foot, silencing him with a sharp jab. He hisses in pain, his face contorting into a pained grimace. “Ow!” he protests.

Chuuya's lips curl into a scowl as he clicks his tongue in annoyance. He directs a fierce glare at Dazai before shifting his gaze to you. You avoid meeting his eyes, feeling the weight of his stare without acknowledging it.

“Boss?” you finally address Mori, trying to mask your anxiety with a look of innocent curiosity.

Mori chuckles, shaking his head with amusement as he slides a folder across his desk. “All the information is inside. I look forward to hearing good news from the three of you.”

Elise swiftly retrieves the folder, her movements light and playful. She approaches the group, extending the folder first towards Chuuya. Just as he reaches for it, she pulls it back with a glint in her eye and holds it out to you instead. Chuuya blinks in surprise, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You shoot Elise a glowering look before accepting the folder from her hand. She laughs softly at your reaction, and you turn to offer the folder to Chuuya without meeting his gaze. He takes it from you, opening it and beginning to read the contents, his face a mask of concentration.

Dazai watches the interaction between you and Chuuya with growing annoyance. But then, an idea seems to spark in his mind, and a mischievous smirk gradually curls on his lips, hinting at some new scheme that is already taking shape in his mind.

The elevator ride feels like an oppressive prelude to the discomfort awaiting you. The air inside is thick and stifling, each breath a labored effort. Cramped between Dazai and Chuuya, the silence is nearly deafening.

Dazai stands with a casual air, his eyes unfocused and distant, while you keep your gaze fixed on the digital display above, watching each floor tick by with dread and anticipation. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Chuuya's intermittent glances toward you—his scrutiny only adds to the suffocating tension.

The cool air brushes your face as the three of you step out of the building, but the crisp breeze does little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. A sleek black car pulls up to the curb, its dark windows reflecting the harsh sunlight. You move to open the passenger door, but Dazai's hand intercepts yours with an authoritative gesture.

He shakes his head, his expression unreadable but firm. “I'll take this seat, [Your name]-chan.” he says casually. You shoot him a heated glare, but he only responds with an infuriatingly pleasant smile. With a resigned sigh, you slide into the back seat, your irritation simmering as you see Chuuya already seated there.

To your dismay, Dazai slips into the back seat as well, forcing you to sit in the middle. The cramped space forces you into an uncomfortable closeness with both men, Dazai's presence on one side and Chuuya's on the other.

Your cheeks flush with frustration as you cast a venomous look at Dazai. His devilish grin barely conceals his amusement at your predicament. The close quarters and confined space drain your energy, and you lean back against the seat, closing your eyes to steady your breathing as the car begins its journey to the mission location.

The vehicle glides smoothly through the city streets, the hum of the engine and the occasional light casting fleeting shadows across the interior. Eventually, Dazai breaks the silence, beginning to outline the strategy for the mission.

“Our mission involves an organization that recently took out one of our primary illegal arms dealers,” Dazai explains, his eyes glinting with seriousness and playful detachment. “This has caused a significant delay in our weapon shipments, leading to a shortage. Mori-san isn't thrilled about his men being forced to use kitchen knives, so he's sent us to handle the situation.”

You furrow your brow, trying to absorb the details. “So, our job is to eliminate them?”

Dazai shakes his head with a smirk, “No, we're going to negotiate with them.”

Chuuya's irritation is evident as he leans forward slightly, his gaze sharp. “And if they refuse to negotiate?”

Dazai's chuckle is low and dark. “Then it's up to you and [Your name]-chan to take them down. Besides, one way or another, the Port Mafia can always take over the organization and utilize their resources after we show them our capabilities. Mori-san just doesn't want a bloodbath yet.”

You nod, accepting his explanation, and sink back into the seat. Your hand, resting lightly beside you, brushes against Chuuya's, and you immediately pull away as if his touch were burning. Chuuya notices but doesn't say anything.

The car lurches to a halt, its engine sputtering into silence as it arrives at the designated spot. Dazai and Chuuya spring from their seats, they swing open the car doors, an unspoken invitation in their posture. Bewilderment flickers across your face as you glance between them, an eyebrow arching in silent question.

Rather than follow their lead, you maneuver yourself deftly into the passenger seat with a swift, almost defiant motion. The Port Mafia driver blinks in surprise as you open the door and step out.

Dazai and Chuuya stare at you, their eyes widening in shared disbelief. Their faces briefly contort with frustration and surprise before they slam the doors shut with a synchronized thud.

You take a moment to survey your surroundings, your gaze sharp and assessing. The imposing structure of a four-story building looms in the distance, its dark silhouette standing out against the morning sky. Your senses prick at a faint rustle nearby, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that signals impending danger.

Before Chuuya can react, his hand reaching out in an instinctive protective gesture, your ability flares to life. A shimmer of steel appears around you as your blades slice through the incoming bullets with effortless precision. Each shot is redirected with a soft, metallic whisper, veering away from you and Dazai, who stands beside you, his face a picture of calm.

You turn to Chuuya with a look of icy annoyance, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “You don't have to protect me. I can handle myself.”

Chuuya's eyes widen in shock, his hand frozen mid-reach. Dazai lets out a weary sigh, his gaze sweeping over the armed men now encircling the three of you. His eyes narrow as he counts them, taking in the sight of every window in the distant building framed with men aiming their guns.

“There are fifty of them. It seems they don't want us to negotiate after all.” he says, his tone a mix of amusement and mild exasperation.

In perfect sync, you and Chuuya respond with a clipped, “Yeah, no shit.”

Just as the armed men prepare to pull their triggers, a dense cloud of dust billows around. Dazai coughs, caught off guard by the sudden haze. When he finally opens his eyes, you and Chuuya have vanished from his sight. He watches with a bemused grin as the area erupts into chaos, the relentless barrage of gunshots filling the air.

Amidst the tumult of the battlefield, your blades are an unforgiving force of destruction. Each swing is precise, a deadly extension of Dazai's teachings and your relentless training. The air hums with the clash of metal as bullets ricochet, their paths altered by your skillful maneuvers.

Your movements are a flawless execution of combat, every strike a calculated dance of death. Crimson sprays in vivid arcs, a visceral testament to the effectiveness of your ruthless assault. The blood slicks the ground beneath you, darkening it with red as limbs fall and bodies collapse in your wake.

Meanwhile, Chuuya hovers above the chaos, his body enveloped in a swirling orange aura that makes him appear almost otherworldly. From his vantage point, he handles the men stationed in the building with an effortless grace. His gravity manipulation ability allows him to float and move with unparalleled agility. Each kick he delivers is a calculated strike against his enemies, sending bullets back toward their origins with a swift, almost casual flick of his foot.

Despite fighting in different realms of the battlefield, there's an undeniable connection between you and Chuuya. The small grins on your faces—yours fierce and determined, his subtle and knowing—speak of a deep-seated bond. You're no longer simply relying on Chuuya's abilities; now, you're a formidable force working together. The shared victory of fighting alongside him, each of you playing to your strengths, brings a mutual sense of accomplishment.

The deafening roar of gunfire gradually fades, replaced by an almost surreal silence. Chuuya lands beside you, his orange aura vanishing as he deactivates his ability. You take a deep breath, surveying the aftermath of the conflict. The battlefield is littered with debris and the remnants of the fight, the air still charged with tension.

As you start walking ahead, a voice breaks through the stillness, dripping with mockery. “Oh, no! He got me. Help!” Dazai's tone is dramatically pleading, his arms lifted in a theatrical surrender. He stands with an exaggerated pout, his wide eyes conveying faux terror and mischief.

On his back, one of the men who managed to escape has a gun pressed against Dazai's temple, his face a mask of cold determination. “Don't move.” the man commands, his voice icy and resolute, betraying none of the fear that might be expected. He grips the gun tightly, his knuckles white as he maintains his precarious position.

“Please help me. I don't want to die!” Dazai continues, his voice a melodramatic wail that seems almost absurd in its exaggeration. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes glinting with barely-contained amusement as he looks over at you and Chuuya.

You raise a brow, unimpressed by his over-the-top act. The scene is almost ridiculous in its exaggeration, and you can't help but feel a pang of irritation at his theatrics.

Chuuya, standing beside you with a faint smirk, glances toward Dazai. “Kill him. We don't really care.” he says in a voice that is casual, almost bored.

The man's eyes widen in shock, the dismissive tone clearly throwing him off balance. Before he can react, a swift, precise movement sends his head rolling back, his body crumpling to the ground with a heavy thud.

As the threat is neutralized, you deactivate your ability and stride towards Dazai. His grin is wide and infectious, a mix of self-satisfaction and playful mischief. He looks at you and Chuuya with a twinkle in his eye. “Great job, both of you.” he says, his tone light and approving, as though the entire ordeal was nothing more than an elaborate game.

Chuuya's phone buzzes insistently in his pocket. He pulls it out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he answers with a clipped, “Yes, boss?”

As if on cue, Dazai leaps into your personal space, his arms flung around your neck with exaggerated relief. “Oh, [Your name]-chan! Thank you for saving me!” he exclaims, his tone a high-pitched whine that barely masks the mischief in his eyes. His body presses against yours, and though the trembling of his frame is faint, it's there—part of the show.

“Get off me, Dazai.” you groan, trying to pry his arms away. But Dazai leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours. He flashes a grin so disarmingly charming it's almost infuriating. Your eyes widen as you catch on to his intention. “Don't you—” you start, but before you can finish, Dazai silences you with a deep, lingering kiss.

Chuuya, still on the phone with Mori, glances over to see the unexpected display. His eyes go impossibly wide, mouth hanging open as disbelief takes root. “What the fuck.” he mutters under his breath, voice barely audible. He's horrified to see you not only accepting Dazai's kiss but seemingly participating in it, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. His voice cracks slightly as he stammers into the phone, “No, no! Nothing, boss. It's, uh—” His teeth clench in frustration. “The mission is a success.”

Hastily ending the call, Chuuya shoves the phone into his pocket, his face a storm of disbelief and fury. Without hesitation, he grabs Dazai by the collar and yanks him away from you, catching both of you off guard. He throws him to the side as if he's a piece of trash, causing Dazai to stumble. Even with the rough treatment, a lazy grin spreads across Dazai's face as he steadies himself.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Chuuya spits out, venom lacing his words. His sharp blue eyes bore into yours with such intensity they almost seem to burn, demanding an explanation.

You look at him, your expression filled with defiance and discomfort, before averting your gaze. Dazai, unfazed, adjusts his stance and places a hand on his hip with a mockingly nonchalant air. “We're kissing, Chuuya. And you interrupted us.”

Chuuya's eyes narrow further, his focus never leaving you.

“It's nothing.” you reply, your voice cold and indifferent.

Chuuya's anger boils over. He strides towards you, each step fueled by his mounting frustration. “Are you fucking crazy, [Your name]?! What the hell?”

You stand your ground, eyes meeting his with a stubborn glare. “I told you, it's nothing!”

His face darkens with rage. “Nothing? That bastard almost devoured you with that kiss, and you're just letting him?” His voice rises, tension vibrating through each word. “Where's your head at?” His eyes, blazing with anger, fixate on you, as if he can't comprehend how you could be so nonchalant about the intense, possessive way Dazai had kissed you, his lips claiming yours with a fervor that bordered on consuming.

The harshness in his words makes your body stiffen, a flash of hurt crossing your features. “It's none of your business! What I do with Dazai is none of your business!”

Chuuya's fury escalates as he steps even closer, his presence overwhelming. “Are you out of your mind? This manipulative bastard is clearly taking advantage of you. Seriously, what the fuck? The [Your name] I knew wouldn't let herself be—”

You cut him off. “Quit it already! The [Your name] from the Sheep you knew doesn't exist anymore! I'm Port Mafia now!” Your words are laced with a defiant edge, a desperate attempt to assert your new identity and the choices you've made.

Chuuya's rage reaches a boiling point. The ground beneath him shudders, fragments of concrete exploding outward with a loud boom in response to his uncontrollable anger.

You flinch, tears brimming in your eyes as you look up at him, caught between fear and sorrow.

Chuuya's anger softens into a pained regret as he reaches out a hand toward you. But before his fingers can touch you, you swat his hand away, your gesture both resolute and heartbroken.

In a broken whisper, your voice cracks as you say, “The Chuuya-kun I know wouldn't dare use his ability on me...”

A few steps away, Dazai watches the scene unfold with a cruel smirk. He leans casually against the car, amused as he observes the confrontation. His gaze flickers with malicious satisfaction, clearly enjoying the turmoil and conflict he has orchestrated.

The tension in the air seems to intensify around him as he savors every moment of the emotional chaos, his expression a blend of delight and indifference.

Chapter Text

The unexpected confrontation with Chuuya drags on for what feels like an eternity, with both of you occasionally screaming at each other in a heated exchange. Your voices rise and fall, punctuated by sharp words and furious gestures that seem to fuel the tension even more.

Dazai, initially intrigued by the spectacle he caused, watches with a mix of curiosity and amusement. As the minutes tick by, however, his interest begins to fade. The once-entertaining drama loses its charm for him, and he becomes visibly bored, his gaze drifting away from the escalating conflict to something more engaging in the background.

Chuuya visibly struggles to maintain his composure, his eyes flickering with frustration and desperation from the intensity of the argument. “Why can't you see it, [Your name]?” he demands, his voice strained and tight with suppressed anger. “This manipulative bastard is clearly taking advantage of you, preying on your deepest fears and insecurities.”

The words spill out forcefully, each one edged with a bitter fervor. “He knows exactly what makes you vulnerable, using your past traumas and emotional weaknesses to control you. He's exploiting your trust, twisting your sense of self-worth to keep you under his thumb!”

A resentful chuckle escapes your lips, a sound so hollow it echoes with anguish. “And what do you know about trust?”

Chuuya's expression crumbles as if your words have physically struck him. His eyes widen slightly, and his mouth opens and closes in a futile attempt to form a coherent reply. “I-It's not like that—” he stammers.

“Because the last time I put my trust in someone, they let me down, causing me to lose the only family I had, while they went on to find their own.” Your voice trembles, a desperate effort to hold back tears evident in the quiver of your lips.

The statement is a raw confession, each word a painful reminder of betrayal.

Chuuya's gaze falls to the ground, unable to meet your eyes. His shoulders slump, the weight of your accusations visibly crushing him. “You don't know anything, [Your name].” The words are scarcely more than a whisper, tinged with a blend of frustration and vulnerability. “You don't.”

There's a tremor in his voice, a sign of the deep hurt and helplessness he feels.

You snarl in frustration, your anger surging uncontrollably. Your face flushes with emotion, and your hands tremble as you shove him in the chest. The impact is solid but ineffectual; he stands firm, his stance unyielding and unshaken, as if your rage has no effect on him.

“That's right, I don't know!” you erupt, your tone rising with a sharp edge. “How could I, when you never told me? When you never told the Sheep? Use your words, Chuuya-kun! Just admit that you've grown tired of us depending on you and wanted to focus on yourself. Say it!”

Your voice cracks with desperation, the plea in your words clear. “Say it so we can understand! The Sheep might hate you for it, but at least they'd have a reason. Instead of just you vanishing without a word, without a trace!”

Chuuya steps forward, his eyes burning with fury. “That's not fucking true! I didn't grow tired of you guys! In fact, I wanted to be with you all, but—” He abruptly pauses, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, the unspoken words choking in his throat.

Your anger flares even hotter. “I said, use your words. Fuck! Say it! But, what?!”

Dazai, leaning against the hood of the car, finally interjects. His voice is cool and detached, carrying an air of bored authority that cuts through the heated exchange. “That's enough.”

You whip your head around, your eyes flashing with a seething glare. “You stay out of this, Dazai.”

Dazai's face darkens, his eyes narrowing into cold, piercing lines as they meet yours. The unspoken command in his gaze is clear—a silent demand for compliance that makes you flinch.

You look away, the force of his presence making you turn from him.

A heavy, suffocating silence settles over the place, stretching endlessly as the seconds tick by.

You turn your back to Chuuya and Dazai, not wanting them to see your expression. Your shoulders shake slightly as you attempt to wipe the tears from your eyes. The effort is futile; the tears keep streaming down your face, leaving trails of dampness that only deepen your sense of despair

Dazai's audible sigh cuts through the silence like a blade. He strides over to you with a measured pace. As he reaches you, he wraps an arm around your waist, drawing you close. You bury your face against his chest, your sobs muffled but relentless.

“Now, now. Don't be so harsh with [Your name]-chan, Chuuya. She's been through a lot, you know.” His voice is soft, almost soothing, though it carries an undercurrent of reproach. His hand moves gently over your hair, smoothing it down in a comforting gesture.

Chuuya's eyes are dark, almost smoldering with anger. His gaze locks onto Dazai's with a lethal ferocity. “Shut the fuck up, Dazai. Shut up.”

The drive back to the Port Mafia headquarters is charged with an oppressive atmosphere. What was once an awkward journey now feels a thousand times more so.

Chuuya takes the passenger seat, his posture rigid and resentful. You and Dazai sit in the backseat, the car's interior thick with unresolved tension. Only Dazai seems unfazed, humming a disjointed tune under his breath as if to drown out the silence.

When you face Mori, his initial impression is one of concern, mistaking the strained expressions of both you and Chuuya for signs of mission failure. The tension is so dense it feels almost tangible.

Noticing the lack of communication, Dazai takes the lead in reporting the mission. His tone is smooth and polished, but his eyes frequently flicker toward you, assessing your reaction.

Mori listens intently, his expression gradually softening into a rare, approving smile. As he nods slowly, a flicker of satisfaction passes over his face. “Great job to the three of you,” he says. His gaze moves deliberately from one face to the next, making sure each of you feels acknowledged. “Dismissed.”

You bow your head along with Chuuya and Dazai, the movement stiff and formal. Once the formalities are over, you make a beeline for the exit, eager to distance yourself from both men.

A hand clamps down on your wrist with a firm, unyielding grip, halting your escape down the corridor. The touch is unmistakable: the cold, textured press of leather gloves against your skin confirms that it's Chuuya.

You freeze in your tracks, your pulse quickening. Without meeting his eyes, you try to pull your hand free, the sharp tug revealing your unease. “Can you do me a favor, Chuuya-kun?” you say, your voice icy and unwavering. “From now on, don't talk to me ever again unless we're on a mission.”

With that final, cutting remark, you turn and walk away, each step echoing with a sense of finality and resentment.

You walk out of the suffocating headquarters, your steps heavy with fatigue and distress. The warm afternoon air offers little comfort as you make your way to a place of solitude—a dilapidated site where the remnants of the Sheep's base lie scattered in a grimy sewage canal.

The once-familiar location, now reduced to rubble, is cloaked in the overpowering stench of decay and filth. Yet, the nauseating smell barely registers as you are consumed by the chaos within your mind.

You find a spot among the debris, a small sanctuary from the harsh reality of your situation with Chuuya. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and draw your legs up to your chest, curling into a tight ball. Your face buries into the folds of your knees as you begin to rock gently back and forth, trying to soothe the raging emotions swirling inside you.

Your mind echoes with words from the past, a memory that pierces through the darkness of your thoughts. “I just want you to know, if you ever choose to leave us, I'll understand. I'll always understand, Chuuya-kun.”

Your fingers fumble at your coat pockets, pulling out a small blue band—a symbol of your affiliation with the Sheep. The band feels strangely cold and heavy in your grasp, a stark reminder of a past that now seems irretrievably lost. You clutch it tightly, your grip trembling as fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

In the bleak silence, you whisper under your breath.“I don't care if you left us. I don't care about the promise you made to me. I just want to hear your words, that's all.”

Your grip tightens around the blue band, your knuckles whitening as you hug it tightly to your chest. You sob uncontrollably, your voice choked with pain. “Chuuya-kun, you idiot. Your love is too hard to understand.”

As you cry, the world seems to close in, and you are left alone with your anguish, clutching the blue band as if it can somehow bring back the past or mend the broken pieces of your heart.

The summer sun beats down relentlessly, casting a shimmering haze over the base grounds. You and Chuuya are out in the open, the heat barely registering as you play. His new-found gravity manipulation ability has turned into a playful spectacle for both of you. He floats nearby objects and creates gentle waves of weightlessness, eliciting your delighted giggles and laughter.

The air is filled with the sound of your shared joy, each of Chuuya's moves met with your enthusiastic cheers.

“Oi, Chuuya!” a voice calls out, cutting through the playful din.

Chuuya abruptly halts, his floating objects coming to a still as he turns toward the source of the interruption.

It's Shirase, his face etched with exasperation and impatience. His brows are furrowed, and his mouth is set in a firm line. “C'mere!” he barks, his tone making it clear he's not in the mood for casual chat.

Chuuya sighs, his shoulders dropping slightly as he turns to you. His gaze reflects a combination of hesitant responsibility and regret. You offer him a reassuring nod, your eyes radiating with encouragement. “Go. I'll wait for you here.”

He pauses, the playful glint in his eyes dimming for a moment, but then he nods in return.

Taking a quick, determined stride, he sprints towards Shirase, who is already walking away with a frustrated shake of his head.

You watch them leave; Shirase turns to acknowledge your wave and responds with a wave of his own, the frustration in his face melting into a friendly, albeit tired, smile.

Even with Shirase in front of him, Chuuya steals a glance over his shoulder, meeting your curious stare.

Shirase, standing impatiently with his arms crossed, snaps his fingers right in front of Chuuya's face, the sound sharp and jarring. His gesture is both dramatic and mildly exasperated, marked by a raised eyebrow and a sigh that betrays his growing irritation. “We're out on an errand, Chuuya. Let's go. I'm sure your time with [Your name] can wait.”

As Chuuya and Shirase disappears from view, the stifling heat of the day presses down on you. Boredom soon sets in, and you rise to your feet. The sun blazes so fiercely that you raise a hand to shield your eyes, squinting as you search for something to pass the time.

Wandering a bit, you find yourself at the Tsurumi River. The sight of the cool, glistening water is a tempting respite from the heat. Making your way to the riverbank, you spot a kid around your age sitting alone, his gaze fixed on the water with a contemplative look. 

You've noticed him in the same spot for weeks now. The familiarity of his presence here, day after day, has become a silent, constant companion to your own moments of quiet reflection. Deciding today is finally the day to reach out, you take a few steps closer.

The crunch of gravel under your feet breaks the serene silence, drawing his attention.

When he shifts his attention to you, your breath catches slightly. The kid's right eye is obscured by layers of bandages, adding a layer of mystery to his already enigmatic appearance. His dark brown hair is a wild mess, sticking out in all directions as if it's defied every attempt at taming. It frames his face in an unruly halo, making him look like a lost black cat who's wandered into the sunlight. His dark gaze, intense and oddly wise for his age, meets yours with both curiosity and caution.

You feel a twinge in your heart—a soft spot for kids who seem neglected or alone. You settle down beside him, the grass rustling softly under your weight. His eyes remain fixed on you, curious but reserved.

“Hi!” you greet him with a sweet, friendly smile, trying to break through the barrier of his solitude.

He blinks several times, processing your presence, before a small grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “Hello.” he responds, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Um,” you begin, your voice tentative. “You're from around here?”

He responds with a slow, absentminded nod, his eyes locked onto yours with an unblinking focus.

The way he holds your gaze is both disconcerting and intriguing, as if he's silently assessing you.

“Oh, I see. Me too.” You scratch your head awkwardly, feeling a bit self-conscious as the silence stretches. The initial hesitation makes you wonder if he's open to conversation after all. Maybe you should give it one more try; if he's not receptive, you'll take it as a sign to leave him be.

But before you can say anything more, he surprises you. “I often see you walking around here.” he says, his lips curling into a knowing smile that suggests he's been expecting this encounter.

“That's my line,” you chuckle, the awkwardness beginning to dissolve as you find a bit of common ground. “I've seen you here from time to time, staring at the river. It's quite the sight, isn't it? Though I heard it's pretty deep.” You stretch your legs out, trying to get comfortable on the grassy bank.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, a curious expression crossing his face. “What's your name?”

“My name is [Your name]. And you?” You ask, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.

“Dazai. Dazai Osamu.” he replies, his grin widening with a hint of mischief that adds an air of playfulness to his demeanor.

“If you don't mind me asking, Dazai, are you hurt?” You point gently at his right eye, your face reflecting concern.

Dazai laughs heartily, dismissing your concern with a casual wave of his hand. “Oh, it's just a sty. I rubbed my eye with my dirty hands.” he explains, his laughter ringing out with an infectious lightness that causes you to chuckle in return.

“I think you should wash your hands.” you suggest, trying your best to hide your amusement.

Dazai chuckles, his gaze drifting back to the river as he nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

As the conversation flows, the initial awkwardness vanishes. Dazai speaks animatedly, jumping from one topic to another with an enthusiasm that draws you in. You listen, laughing occasionally at his stories and enjoying the natural rhythm of the exchange.

Twilight begins to paint the sky in shades of orange and purple, signaling that your time together is drawing to a close.

You rise from your seat, brushing off your clothes with a feeling of reluctant finality. “I need to go now, Dazai.” you say, your voice soft and tinged with regret.

A frown tugs at his lips, his eyes reflecting a touch of disappointment. “Already?”

You nod, sighing softly. “Yeah...”

He stands up as well, his grin returning. “I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

You blink at him in surprise before your face lights up with a smile. “Okay! I'll see you tomorrow, Dazai!”

With a wave of your hand, you turn and walk away, your heart feeling a little lighter from the unexpected and enjoyable encounter. Heading back to the Sheep's base, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation for your next meeting with the intriguing boy by the river, Dazai.

Chuuya blinks at you, his mouth full of crisp apple slices. The juice dribbles slightly as he speaks, his tone tinged with skepticism. “You made a new friend?”

You nod vigorously, a wide smile illuminating your features. “That's right! I'm going to meet him again tomorrow.”

Chuuya's expression twists into a scowl, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Him? It's a boy?” 

Beside him, Yuan stifles a laugh, her eyes darting between you and Chuuya with amusement. Shirase's brow furrows in confusion, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity.

“Yup! His name is Dazai.” You direct your beaming grin towards Chuuya, hoping to convey your enthusiasm. “I think you'll get along with him, Chuuya-kun.”

Chuuya huffs, his irritation pronounced. He turns away, his voice carrying a hint of menace. “He better, or I'll kick his ass.”

You laugh, the sound bright and cheerful, a clear counterpoint to Chuuya's gruff tone.

When the morning sun filters through the cracks in the walls, your excitement is nearly overflowing. As soon as you complete your usual routine, you head straight for Tsurumi, your step light and your heart brimming with anticipation.

The moment you arrive, you spot Dazai sitting on the riverbank in his usual spot, the tranquility of the river contrasting with the storm of thoughts that often cloud his mind.

Your eyes sparkle, and you rush to sit beside him. “Hi, Dazai!” you greet him, your voice full of warmth and joy.

Dazai's grin broadens, his eyes twinkling with a playful gleam. “Heya, [Your name]-chan,” he says, scooting closer and nearly invading your space as he offers you a handful of colorful candies. “Want some?”

Your eyes widen at the sight of the sweets, and you can't help but smile back at him. “Sure! Thank you...”

The daily meetings with Dazai become a treasured ritual, a comforting anchor in your life. Every morning, you meet him at the riverbank, and as twilight falls, you part ways with promises of tomorrow. Even on days when you're busy with the Sheep's weekly meetings, Dazai waits patiently for you by the river.

Over time, you come to understand the complexity of Dazai's nature. His dark humor and flippant remarks mask a troubling truth—he's been suicidal and has made numerous failed attempts at ending his life. Though you try to delve deeper, he often deflects with jokes, never fully opening up.

Nevertheless, you're in awe of his sharp mind; his intellect seems almost otherworldly, and his ability to articulate his thoughts with such fluidity is impressive. Once, when you sought his advice on a Sheep-related issue, Dazai devised a multitude of strategies in no time, his mind working like a strategic mastermind.

And now, today is the day you've been preparing for: asking Dazai to join the Sheep. You've rehearsed your lines meticulously, steeling yourself for this crucial moment.

While you're busy recalling your lines, Dazai hums a tune, his gaze fixed contemplatively on the river's surface. The sound of water lapping against the bank creates a peaceful ambiance.

You approach, breaking the stillness with a call. Dazai's head turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours, momentarily pulled from the chaos of his mind.

“Hey, Dazai. Do you want to join the Sheep?” you ask, your voice steady and determined.

Dazai blinks, a look of genuine puzzlement crossing his face. “Huh?”

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. “I said, do you want to join the Sheep?”

You're ready to launch into your persuasive speech when Dazai's response cuts you off with a casual, “No.”

“Huh?” Your confusion mirrors his own as you blink in surprise.

“I said, no.” Dazai's grin widens, his tone lazy and dismissive. “I'm fine with things the way they are right now.”

“But...” Your voice falters, and you cast your gaze downward, struggling to hide your disappointment.

Dazai studies you for a moment, a hint of amusement and contemplation in his eyes before he laughs softly. “Really, [Your name]-chan? If you want my help, I'll be here to listen and assist. There's no need for me to join the Sheep.”

Despite his dismissive attitude, you persist, subtly bringing up the topic during each meeting. Dazai's response remains unchanged: “No.” accompanied by an amused chuckle. Eventually, Dazai grows tired of your persistence and proposes a game. If he wins, you'll stop trying to recruit him; if you win, he'll join the Sheep.

The game is a race across the riverbank to the opposite side of Tsurumi. You can't shake the knot of worry in your stomach; the current is strong, and the water's dangerous.

“But, Dazai... this whole thing is dangerous...” you say, your voice trembling with concern.

Dazai's grin is taunting, almost challenging. “Huh? If you don't want to do it, just say so. Then I win the game.”

You fidget with the hem of your dress, your voice dropping to a whisper. “It's not like that... it's just...” You swallow hard, searching his face. “You're not using this game to end your life, right? If you really hate it, I'll stop talking about the Sheep and the whole recruitment thing.”

For a fleeting moment, Dazai's grin falters, his eyes meeting yours with an unreadable expression. He pats your head reassuringly. “No way! Even if you talk about nonsensical things, I'll never get tired of hearing your chatter, [Your name]-chan.”

Despite his attempt to reassure you, you remain unconvinced. “I won't forgive you if you do something reckless, Dazai.”

True to his nature, Dazai deliberately allows you to take the lead. Midway through the race, he purposefully stops and lets himself sink beneath the water. You only realize something is terribly wrong when you glance back and see no sign of him.

Panic grips your heart as you call out his name, plunging into the river with desperate strokes. Each time you surface, gasping for breath, you dive back under, your eyes straining to spot him amidst the churning water. Even with the summer heat, Dazai's long-sleeved shirt makes him somewhat visible, but he remains elusive.

As you go underwater again, you catch sight of Dazai's bandages drifting in the current. With every ounce of strength left, you follow the faint trail, holding your breath as you reach for his hand. Exhaustion nearly overcomes you, but you manage to drag him to the surface, your lungs burning for air.

Dazai lies still, his dark brown hair plastered to his face, his body unmoving. You reach for him with trembling, cold hands, shaking him in a desperate attempt to wake him. But he remains unresponsive, and a cold dread settles in your chest as you realize he's not breathing.

Fear drives you to recall Akira's CPR instructions. Your hands work automatically, pressing down on his chest, your movements fueled by anxiety and determination. After what feels like an eternity of trying, Dazai finally coughs up the water, his body convulsing with each breath.

Your eyes, red from crying, fixate on Dazai's face as you deliver a sharp slap to his cheek. His eyes flutter open, and he blinks at you with confusion and resignation. The river's rush is a distant roar compared to your muffled cries.

“I was so scared... I was so scared, Dazai!” Your voice cracks as you speak, the relief and fear mingling in your sobs.

Following that event, a shift occurs in Dazai's demeanor. He silently pledges to himself that he will no longer let his suicidal tendencies burden those around him.

His priority now is to commit a clean suicide without being a burden to anyone.

Feeling weighed down, you retreat from the daily meetings, unable to shake the guilt that gnaws at you. The burden of what happened drapes over you, making it impossible to face him. You convince yourself that distancing yourself from Dazai is the only way to prevent another tragedy from occurring.

It was your fault in the first place. If only you had respected his decision, he might not have proposed that game that nearly cost him his life.

The days stretch into weeks, and your absence becomes a conspicuous void at the riverbank. Dazai remains there, an isolated figure against the landscape of rippling water. His posture is slouched, but his gaze is unwaveringly fixed on the horizon, as though he's waiting for something that he knows might never come.

It's already Christmas. You, Chuuya, and the Sheep wander through the vibrant streets of Yokohama, the city alive with the glow of Christmas lights twinkling against the night sky. Festive decorations cast a warm, cheerful ambiance over the bustling sidewalks, while the cool, crisp air nips at your cheeks. You all navigate through the crowd, your laughter mingling with the lively buzz of holiday cheer.

As you stroll, your gaze drifts towards the familiar flow of the Tsurumi River. Despite the dazzling lights around you, something pulls at your attention, compelling you to seek out the riverbank. You squint against the glare of the streetlights, your eyes scanning the grassy edge where the gentle ripples of the water meet the shore.

Chuuya, ever sensitive to your moods, notices your sudden pause. He halts beside you, his sharp eyes catching the mix of hope and disappointment on your face. Without a word, he removes his scarf and drapes it around you, the soft fabric warming you against the chill.

The warmth of the scarf jolts you back to the present. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with gratitude and faint embarrassment.

The others stop as well to join you and Chuuya. Shirase rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed but also slightly amused, and walks ahead with a dismissive wave. “Ignore them, you guys. They're lost in their little world.”

Yuan laughs, her eyes sparkling with cheekiness, and joins Shirase, her laughter ringing out like a melodious chime. The other Sheep members spare one last glance in your direction before snickering and catching up with the two.

Chuuya's lips curve into a smirk, though his eyes hold a hint of concern. “Your nose is red,” he remarks with a teasing lilt. “I told you that coat and gloves wouldn't be enough.”

You manage a grin, the warmth from the scarf spreading through you. “Hehehe, it's not really that cold...”

Chuuya rolls his eyes in feigned exasperation but his grip on your hand is gentle. “Come on.” he says, tugging you along with him. You nod, feeling the comfort of his touch and the softness of his scarf.

When you open your eyes, night has already enveloped the world outside. Your entire body protests with a dull ache, the result of the awkward position you've maintained for hours. You stretch your arms above your head with a groan, feeling each joint creak as you slowly rise to your feet.

You cast a last, lingering glance back at the remnants of the Sheep's base. The once vibrant, bustling area now feels cold and distant, and a bitter smile tugs at your lips, reflecting a sense of loss and resignation. Shaking off the melancholy, you turn away and head toward the high-end building where the Port Mafia members reside.

Opening the door to your room, Dazai is a whirlwind of exaggerated movements. His arms flail wildly as he looks at you with an exaggerated gasp.

“Where have you been, [Your name]-chan?! It's already late, and I was looking everywhere for you!” His face is a picture of playful concern, a dramatic blend of relief and outrage.

Your exhausted face hardens into a deadpan stare. “What are you doing here?” you ask, struggling to keep the fatigue from your voice.

Dazai pouts, his lower lip jutting out in a way that's infuriating. “I've decided that I will stay here as well.” he declares, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

You scowl, frustration from the day surfacing, including the confrontation with Chuuya and the annoying dream about how you met Dazai four years ago. “Go back to your place, Dazai.” You take off your coat and toss it aside with a sharp motion, your irritation barely concealed.

Dazai turns his head away in a mock show of rebellion. “No.”

Realizing that arguing with him is pointless and would only drain more of your energy, you let out a defeated sigh. You push him off the edge of the bed and he topples onto the floor with a surprised yelp, his arms floundering as he lands with a thud.

You collapse onto your bed, sinking into its softness with a contented sigh. The plush mattress feels like a haven against your aching body. Closing your eyes, the room fades into a peaceful blur.

Dazai, still on the floor, rubs his backside with a comical grimace. He peers at you with a bemused expression as you settle in, the gentle rise and fall of your breath the only sound in the quiet room.

Leaning on your bed, Dazai props one knee up and stares at the door, his expression filled with contemplation and something harder to pin down. The dim light from the lamp casts shadows that dance across his face, accentuating his features.

“Hey, [Your name]-chan,” he says, his voice carrying a tone that seems almost too calm for the gravity of his words.

You lie with your eyes closed, trying to savor the last moments of peace. “What?” you ask, your voice muffled by the pillow.

A silence lingers, and you think he might have let the matter drop, but then his voice cuts through again, soft yet probing. “So, what's your relationship with Chuuya?”

Your eyes snap open, the question jolting you fully awake. You turn to him, confusion and alarm flashing over your face. “Huh?”

Dazai's gaze remains fixed on the door, unyielding and distant. “You heard me.”

“He's a comrade.” you say, trying to close your eyes again and ignore the tightness in your chest.

Dazai's voice shifts to a more subdued tone, a whisper that seems to hover in the air. “Is that really it? Or was it something more?”

Your heart races, a surge of tension making it difficult to remain still. Silence extends between you, your mind racing to shield yourself from the vulnerability his question reveals.

He lets out an amused chuckle, the sound light but edged with a cruel twist. “I knew it.”

You groan in frustration and sit up abruptly, the bed creaking under your sudden movement. “It's not like that.”

Dazai shifts his position, leaning his head back against the mattress to regard you more directly. His eyes, now sharp and searching, follow your every movement. “Then, what? Make me understand. I'm really curious.”

“We didn't put any label on our relationship,” you say, your voice wavering with sadness and hurt. “But who cares? It was all in the past anyway!” you add, trying to sound dismissive, though the effort falls short.

Dazai's stare remains steady, his expression thoughtful yet piercing. “How strange. Even if you two aren't officially together, you're out there kissing me. Of course, Chuuya would get really angry.”

You stiffen at his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “What are you trying to say?”

Dazai's lips curl into a slow, cruel smirk, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. “I'm trying to say that it's odd how you accepted my advances knowing you're still sort of clinging to Chuuya. Can't pick just one, I guess?”

Your fists clench involuntarily, knuckles whitening. “I didn't accept any of your advances, Dazai. You and I agreed that it was all nothing. All the kisses were no big deal, to me or to you.”

Dazai rises from the bed with deliberate slowness, his movements measured and calm as he faces you fully. “From the very start, when you allowed me to kiss you, that was you accepting my advances. Why are you being so stubborn?”

The accusation stings, and you feel a wave of frustration. “I didn't know... I thought it was normal. you told me it was about intent... and it meant nothing to me. I don't understand. What the hell is your problem?”

“Nothing,” Dazai replies, his tone deceptively light but underlined with irritation. “It just annoys me how you still cling to your past with Chuuya when you're in the mafia now.”

You glare at him, your patience fraying at the edges. “So, you expect me to just erase my past with him and the Sheep because I'm with the mafia now? I spent eight years with them, Dazai!”

“I'm expecting you to at least start moving on, you idiot. Your friends are no longer with you. Chuuya's here, but it's obvious he doesn't care about you anymore. Why are you playing the victim?”

His words land with a painful impact, leaving you feeling as if the ground has shifted beneath you. You turn away, trying to shield yourself from the hurt, your shoulders hunched in a futile attempt to protect yourself from the bite of his words.

The silence in the room feels suffocating, amplifying the confusion and anguish swirling inside you. “What do you want me to do? I don't know what to do anymore. I already told him not to talk to me unless it's about a mission... that way, I can move on from him...”

You feel a desperate sense of helplessness, as if you're trapped in a situation with no clear way out. The memories of past conversations, the strained interactions, and the sense of abandonment crash down on you. The room seems to close in, the walls reflecting the inner turmoil you're struggling to contain.

Dazai's tone takes on a subtle, commanding quality, despite its seeming casualness. “Forget about Chuuya already. I'm here with you now.”

The command in his words sends a shiver down your spine and makes your skin crawl. “Don't get ahead of yourself. The only reason I joined the Mafia was because of what you did back then.”

He studies you intently, a flicker of dismay crossing his features before he speaks. “Ah, so that time when I repeatedly came back for you, even after he failed to show up, you thought it was nothing because I'm not Chuuya?”

“It's not like that...” You start unconsciously scratching your skin with your nails, a nervous habit revealing your struggle to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming emotions. Your fingers dig into your palms, leaving faint red marks as you attempt to steady your racing thoughts. “It's not like that, Dazai...”

“Then what?” he presses, his voice carrying a menacing edge. “The way you're acting now, it's as if you're taking advantage of my mercy. It's like you expect me to be your ever-present safety net, always ready to drop everything and come running whenever you're in trouble.”

He leans in, his face coming dangerously close to yours. “Do you really think you can rely on me endlessly while clinging to Chuuya at the same time? You're testing my patience, and that's something you might not want to do.”

Your head throbs with the weight of the conversation, your emotions roiling. The room blurs as your thoughts spin in chaotic circles, making it hard to focus. Your heart pounds unevenly in your chest, adding to your physical discomfort, while your breath comes in short, shaky gasps, struggling to keep pace with the mounting stress.

Desperation tightens your grip on the edge of the argument, and a lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak steadily. As you meet his gaze, the question escapes your lips with exasperation and vulnerability. “Dazai, what more do you want?” Your eyes search his, pleading for clarity or understanding.

“I don't want it to be nothing anymore.” Dazai says, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur.

The intensity of his gaze makes you look away. “I can't give you something more,” you say. “If you're going to see it that way, let's just stop this foolishness right now.” The words come out more sharply than you intended, your frustration and exhaustion clear as you struggle to maintain your composure.

Dazai turns away abruptly, his shoulders rigid with an emotion you can't quite grasp. He mutters under his breath, his voice cold and final. “Don't talk to me unless I tell you to.” He heads towards the door, the heavy thud of it closing behind him echoing through the quiet.

Left alone, you grapple with the sting of his words, their impact reverberating through your thoughts like an echo in an empty chamber. The room feels oppressively still, each second dragging on as if it were weighted down by the heaviness of your emotions.

You sit there, feeling as though you're drowning in a sea of your own confusion and hurt, desperately trying to make sense of the chaotic whirlwind of feelings and unanswered questions.

Tossing and turning on the bed, you struggle to find a comfortable position, but the unease remains. The rhythmic patter of rain against the window seeps into your consciousness, mingling with your restless thoughts. Sensing that sleep is elusive, you finally give up. With a sigh of resignation, you slip out of bed and grab your coat.

Stepping outside, the rain greets you with immediate force. It soaks through your coat and clings to your skin, the coldness penetrating deep into your bones. You trudge forward, aimless, the downpour drenching you completely.

As you walk, your breath emerges in visible puffs of mist, the cold air biting sharply at your face. In the distance, you spot a figure sitting on a bench under the relentless rain. The person is unmistakably familiar, yet their presence now feels like a ghost from a past you can't quite escape.

Without his hat, his orange hair clings damply to his forehead, and he leans against the bench with an air of weary defeat. His posture is slumped, shoulders hunched as if the burdens of life are bearing down on him.

The rain pours steadily, mingling with the tears that streak down his face, making his expression one of profound sadness and contemplation.

Memories flood back with vivid intensity—the first time you saw him, the way he had impacted your life with his presence. Those memories are tinged with both longing and regret, clear and painful as if they happened yesterday.

You stop a few paces away, the sight of him bringing a pang of indescribable emotion. You take a step back, feeling the crushing weight of the past and present converging in a way that leaves you disoriented.

Dazai's words earlier ring in your ears with unsettling precision. “It just annoys me how you still cling to your past with Chuuya when you're in the mafia now.”

Turning away, you walk in the opposite direction.

Unable to bear the heavy feelings any longer, you collapse onto the wet ground. You lie there, letting the cold, harsh rain drench your clothes and infiltrate your skin. Your eyes close as you surrender to the discomfort blending with the emotional storm raging within.

Elise's eyes are filled with concern as she watches you from across the room. Her brow furrows and her lips purse into a tight line. You're curled up, your face flushed and reddened. Each sneeze shakes your frame, and you instinctively cover your nose with both hands, trying to stifle the next inevitable burst.

Sighing softly, she reaches out and hands you a handkerchief, its fabric soft and cool against your feverish skin. You take it gratefully, your fingers trembling slightly as you spread it out and use it as a makeshift mask.

Elise blinks at you, her initial worry giving way to a light-hearted chuckle. “You look funny!” Her laughter is warm, but it carries an undertone of sympathy that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners.

You give a weary sigh, your voice muffled by the fabric as you manage, “I don't feel so good today.” Every word seems to take more effort than the last, and you sniffle, trying to stifle the next sneeze.

Her lips tighten into a small, thoughtful frown as she gently takes the sketch pad from your hand. “Take a rest. We'll play when you're feeling better.” Her tone is gentle, and she places the pad down.

You manage a weak smile, though it's hidden by the handkerchief, and rise to your feet, swaying slightly as dizziness overtakes you. “I'll visit you again, Elise.”

Elise's eyes brighten with encouragement as she stands and nods eagerly. “Sure! For now, take a rest.” She reaches out, her hand warm and comforting as she gently squeezes yours.

Making your way down the corridor, it seems to stretch endlessly before you. You pull out the handkerchief, carefully folding it before tucking it into your pocket. Your vision blurs and wavers, and you lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes to steady yourself.

When you open your eyes again, a young man's face hovers close to yours. His blonde hair, a tangled mess, is tied back in a loose braid that falls over his shoulder. He peers intently at you, his expression a mix of intrigue and concern. The tinted glasses he's wearing catch the overhead lights, giving his eyes a mysterious gleam as they reflect off the lenses.

Startled, you let out a yelp, the shock causing you to bump your head against the wall with a dull thud. Pain pulses sharply through your skull, and you groan, clutching your head. “Argh...”

The young man leaps back, his eyes widening in surprise. “Hey, are you okay?” His voice is laced with genuine worry, and his stance is tentative, as if he's unsure whether to approach or give you space.

Chapter Text

You glare at the young man standing before you, a frown deepening the lines on your forehead. He seems to catch your irritation, lifting both arms in a comical gesture of surrender, his eyes wide and a hint of nervousness dancing in them. “Sorry! I just thought you might need some help, that's all!” he explains hastily, scratching his head with an awkward laugh that betrays his discomfort.

Your brows furrow tighter. Who is this guy? You've never seen him before. Is he a new member? The question churns in your mind, mixing with your unease.

His sheepish smile suddenly brightens into a friendly grin, the corners of his mouth stretching wide. “My name's Albatross. What about ya?”

You regard him warily, taking a step back until your back hits the wall behind you. “It's [Your name].” you reply, the words slipping from your lips with reluctant caution.

Albatross bursts into laughter, a rich sound that fills the air around you. He reaches out and gives your shoulder a friendly pat, the sudden contact making you jump. “Nah, don't worry, [Your name]. I will not hurt cha!” he assures you, his laughter spilling over like an open tap.

Despite your irritation, his infectious energy begins to chip away at your defenses. As you follow him down the dim corridor, he launches into a nonstop stream of chatter, the buzz of his voice oddly comforting. You can't help but wonder why he remains so unyieldingly energetic, a vibrant force against the somber backdrop of your thoughts filled with Dazai and Chuuya.

“Hey, [Your name]. Have you heard of the Young Bloods?” Albatross asks, casually placing both arms behind his head as he walks, a relaxed confidence radiating from him.

You shake your head, your curiosity piqued. He chuckles, the laugh brimming with energy. “It's a peer-support group within the mafia. There are five of us, and we recently got a new member who's about your age. He kind of reminds me of you—both of you are awfully short. How old are you, [Your name]?”

“Fourteen.” you reply in a small voice, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Your gaze drops to the floor, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your coat as a flush creeps up your neck. You hadn't thought much about your age until now, but the weight of his question makes you feel smaller than usual.

Albatross blinks at you, his expression morphing from playful to contemplative. “Oh, you're a year younger than him! Anyway, I'm sure the guys will be happy to meet you.” he says, his eyes sparkling at the thought of introducing you to his comrades.

You steal a glance at his beaming face, the genuine warmth there, and a small, reluctant smile forms on your lips. For the first time, the tightness in your chest eases, and the unfamiliarity doesn't feel so bad at all. Maybe this strange, boisterous young man could lead you to something new—something that didn't feel so daunting after all.

Albatross leads you through a narrow alley away from the Port Mafia headquarters, the sounds of the city fading into silence. You step cautiously behind him, your heart racing as the atmosphere shifts from bustling to desolate. He stops in front of an old billiards bar, its brick facade worn and weary, with the words 'Old World' barely visible in pale letters on the signboard.

He opens the door for you, and you hesitate at the threshold. After taking a deep, calming breath, you step inside. The dimly lit interior reveals four young men scattered around the bar, each absorbed in their own world. One leans against the wall, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, smoke curling up like a delicate wisp.

A mafioso in a black overcoat and a long white hakama approaches with a calm smile on his face. “Albatross, who's she?”

Albatross lets out a hearty laugh, the sound booming in the otherwise quiet space. He pats your shoulder with a casual, easygoing familiarity. “Oh, Pianoman, this is [Your name]. I think she just joined the mafia, since she looks pretty new to me.”

Your eyes dart nervously from one man to another, feeling exposed as you shift your weight from foot to foot. “Nice to meet you.” you manage, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Suddenly, a figure steps out from behind Pianoman—an impossibly thin young man in a white coat, an IV bag hanging from his wrist. He chuckles softly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Fufufu, is she going to join our support group?”

“What are you saying, Doc?” A gentle voice interrupts as a new presence glides into view, moving with a slow elegance that commands attention. He looks down at you, his charming smile igniting a flutter of admiration in your chest.

“He's so pretty!” you scream inside your head, the thought echoing in your mind like a mantra.

“Lippmann!” Albatross exclaims, wrapping an arm around him. “How was the mission?”

“It's a success.” Lippmann replies, still smiling.

“Really? How was it—” Albatross begins, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, but he's suddenly cut off by a quiet voice that echoes from the back of the bar, slicing through the lively chatter.

“I've met you before.”

You turn your gaze to the source, locking eyes with a young man whose presence seems to draw the attention of everyone in the room. He doesn't shout; instead, his calm authority hushes the others. You tilt your head in wonder as he straightens, his posture shifting to regard you fully.

“The Sheep, right?” he asks, his voice low and steady—less a question and more a statement.

For a moment, you're utterly speechless, the words caught in your throat.

The Young Bloods turn to you, expressions of shock flickering across their faces like lightning in a storm. Their wide eyes and dropped jaws intensify the unease in the air, and you can feel the weight of their curiosity pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

“The Sheep?!” Albatross exclaims loudly, his voice breaking the stillness. Pianoman quickly shushes him.

You respond with a slow, heavy inclination of your head. He acknowledges you with a subtle gesture before turning back to his coffee, his demeanor unfazed.

“Wait, you know her, Iceman?” Doc asks, a note of surprise in his tone.

Lippmann chuckles lightly, as if amused by the revelation. “Of course he does. Remember his past mission?”

Understanding dawns on Doc's face, and he lights up. “Ah, right.”

You glance around, confusion knitting your brows together, but Pianoman gently guides you to a nearby chair. You sit down, surrounded by their inquisitive gazes, feeling nervous under their scrutiny.

The silence hangs heavy in the air until Albatross finally shatters it with a casual yet probing tone. “So, if you were from the Sheep, then I assume you know Chuuya, right?” At the mention of Chuuya's name, your body stiffens. You bite your lower lip, nodding almost involuntarily.

Lippmann smiles knowingly. “That's great because Chuuya will be here any minute.”

Your heart drops, dread flooding your senses. “What?”

Albatross fiddles with a glass of champagne in his hand, looking completely at ease. “I told you a while ago, right? We recently got a new member—it's Chuuya. Nakahara Chuuya.”

A cascade of realization crashes over you, cold and disorienting. These are the people Chuuya considers his family after leaving the Sheep, and you don't belong here—not among them. You rise abruptly from your seat, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound.

Instinctively, you take a step back, your heart racing as the urge to flee floods through you. Your palms sweat, and your breath quickens, each inhale feeling shallower than the last. The curious gazes of the Young Bloods bore into you, amplifying your sense of isolation. Their expressions shift from surprise to concern, and the room feels more constricted as you struggle to maintain your composure.

Panic tinges the edges of your thoughts, urging you to escape this moment, this place, where you suddenly feel so painfully out of place.

“But I didn't see you hanging out with Chuuya. He used to be your leader, right? The king of the Sheep.” Pianoman asks, his tone careful as he studies you intently.

Unable to face them, you turn away, a knot tightening in your stomach. “I need to go.” you say, your voice trembling. Before they can even open their mouths to ask if something's wrong, you're already gone, vanishing into thin air. The space you occupied feels like a ghost in the room, leaving behind only bewildered expressions.

“She... disappeared!” Albatross exclaims, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide with disbelief as he looks around, half expecting you to reappear.

Pianoman's face tightens briefly in thought, a flicker of understanding passing through his sharp eyes. He exchanges a glance with Lippmann, who mirrors his realization with a slow nod. The two sigh almost in unison, a heavy, resigned breath, as if your sudden disappearance holds a meaning they don't need to speak aloud.

The following weeks blur together, days passing meaninglessly as you isolate yourself in your room. The loneliness is relentless, gnawing at your sanity, each second echoing with the empty absence of a voice, a presence, anyone. Elise is nowhere to be found, and her absence makes the solitude unbearable, deepening the hollow ache inside you.

You sit in the corner of your room, knees drawn tightly to your chest as if you could fold yourself small enough to disappear from the pain. Your forehead rests against your legs, silent tears soaking into the fabric of your clothes, your sobs too quiet for anyone to hear.

Not that anyone is there to listen.

Wandering the headquarters aimlessly, you feel like a shadow moving through the corridors, unnoticed and unimportant. You spot Dazai walking toward you, his familiar figure drawing your gaze. Hope, fragile and fleeting, flutters in your chest—maybe he'll see you, maybe he'll say something. But when his eyes meet yours, it's only for a moment, his gaze indifferent as he brushes past you, looking away as if you were just part of the scenery.

The rejection hits harder than you expect. Your shoulders slump, weighed down by the heaviness of that wordless dismissal, and you continue walking, each step dragging as though the ground itself is pulling you back.

You spend your days at the riverbank of the Tsurumi River, watching the water flow with an endless, calming rhythm. The river whispers to you in ways that people don't, its gentle current reflecting the thoughts swirling in your mind. You sit with your arms wrapped around your knees, staring blankly at the moving water.

Then, it strikes you. For a fleeting, dangerous moment, you consider the thought of slipping into the river, letting it carry you away, erasing the constant ache of being alone. It would be so easy to let go, to let the cold water swallow you whole.

But deep down, something holds you back—an ache, not just of loneliness, but of longing. A desire for connection. You want a family, a place where you belong, surrounded by friends who truly care, who won't leave you behind. That's what hurts the most—the fear that you'll be alone forever, a constant outsider looking in.

“Living is so tiring...” you mumble to the empty riverbank. The words feel heavy, as if they've been waiting to be said. You wonder how much longer you can keep going, pretending everything is fine when all you want is to feel like you matter.

The world feels so vast, yet you've never felt more alone.

You reach your limit, and without thinking, you find yourself standing in the midst of an endless expanse of a desolate dumping site. The air is thick with the scent of rust and decay, and scattered debris crunches underfoot.

In front of you looms an abandoned large shipping container, its faded paint peeling like the memories you're trying to escape. Steeling your nerves, you grip the heavy cargo doors and swing them open with a creak that echoes in the stillness. 

Inside, Dazai sits casually in a worn chair, a book cradled in his hands. He looks up at you, an amused expression flickering across his face. “Oh?”

The single word hangs in the air, laced with intrigue.

You chew on your lower lip, a nervous habit you can't shake off, before stepping inside, feeling the pressure of his gaze like a physical force pressing down on you. “Dazai.”

Dazai snaps his book shut with a sharp clap. Languidly, he rises, each movement deliberate, as he strolls toward you. He stops a mere breath away, tilting his head to the side in a way that makes him look both curious and menacing.

Neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, and you avert your gaze, feeling the intensity of his stare boring into you, probing for weaknesses, insecurities, anything that would make you falter.

“I—” you finally muster the courage to speak, but he beats you to it.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is nonchalant, yet there's an underlying sharpness. He folds his arms across his chest, his posture casual yet commanding. “I see you've reached your limit, but as you can see, I don't really want you here—in my place.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your heart drops. You look up at him, meeting his eyes—empty pools of darkness that reveal nothing. You feel small, insignificant, standing in the shadow of his indifference.

Dazai smiles, but it's a hollow gesture, devoid of warmth or his usual mischief. “I told you before, right? I don't want you to talk to me unless I tell you to. Are you disobeying me, [Your name]-chan?” His voice carries a teasing lilt, but there's an edge to it that makes your stomach churn.

You swallow hard, a lump forming in your throat as your fists clench tightly at your sides. “N-no... it's just...”

The words slip away as despair washes over you, choking you.

Uninterested, Dazai hums tunelessly, the sound almost mocking, before he pushes you roughly.

You stumble backward, and the cold air bites at your skin as he closes the door with a firm thud, leaving you staring at the rusty metal and feeling abandoned.

“Dazai...” your voice trembles, and tears slip from your eyes, warm trails against your cold cheeks. “I'm sorry...” you hiccup, desperation tinging your words. “So please don't do this...”

The door swings open again, and Dazai's frown deepens, as though he's grappling with your sudden emotional outburst.

You hastily wipe your tears, fingers quivering as you gather your resolve. “If you don't want it to be nothing anymore... I can give that to you,” you sniffle, your voice small but filled with determination. “I'll do whatever you want... just please, don't...” Your breath hitches, panic rising in your chest. “I don't want to be alone...”

Dazai observes you for a long moment, his dark eyes piercing yet indifferent.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, as if your pain is an annoyance to him, a mere distraction from his own thoughts. “You should say those words to Chuuya, not me. I think Chuuya's out on a mission, but if you want his number, I'll give it to you.”

You shake your head fervently. “Stop talking about Chuuya-kun... talk to me.” you insist.

Dazai blinks at you, momentarily taken aback, before erupting into laughter, a sound loud and jarring that echoes against the metal walls of the container. “Hahahaha!”

Heat rushes to your face, and you pretend it's the result of your sobbing, even though you know it isn't. Dazai sees through you, and that only deepens your embarrassment. He steps closer, invading your personal space.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart racing as you meet his eyes, searching for any sign of warmth, of understanding.

“You'll do whatever I want, you say?” Dazai challenges, an amused glint in his eyes.

You nod eagerly, despair fueling your response despite the tears marring your face.

Dazai grins at you, a sly, almost wicked smile. “Really? Then if I ask you to commit a double suicide with me, you'll do it?”

The thought that has haunted you for days resurfaces—suicide, clear and undeniable. You nod determinedly, conviction flooding your veins.

Dazai blinks at you several times. He places both hands over his mouth in exaggerated shock. “Are you really okay, [Your name]-chan? You're scaring me. What did you eat last night?”

Irritation flashes across your features at his mockery, and you seize his necktie tightly, pulling him closer until your lips crash against his, unexpected and fervent. His eyes widen in shock, surprise etched across his face. 

You close your eyes, pouring all your longing, your desperation into the kiss, moving your lips against his in a silent plea for him to reciprocate.

He remains unresponsive, caught off guard by your boldness. But then, you feel a shift—a glint of triumph igniting in Dazai's eyes as he finally responds, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sends a surge of electricity through you. You can feel him smile against your lips, a warm and dizzying sensation that makes you forget everything else.

Dazai pulls away, taking in the way your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath. He reaches out, his hand brushing against your hair as he gently pats your head—a surprisingly tender gesture that sends a soothing sensation over you. You lean slightly into his touch, craving the comfort it offers.

The corners of his mouth twitch upward in a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It takes you quite a long time to break, [Your name]-chan,” he mutters softly to himself. “I'm impressed.”

The words slip past your ears, barely registering as your focus shifts to wiping away the tears that still cling to your cheeks. The act feels almost futile, as if each drop is a reminder of how vulnerable you are in this moment.

Dazai grins at you, a mischievous spark igniting in his eyes, before he suddenly cups your face in both hands. He squishes your cheeks together playfully, forcing a groan from your lips.

“What a dummy.” he says, a flicker of something softer behind his words—a hint of affection that makes your heart flutter despite the embarrassment.

A year has passed, filled with moments and missions, without anyone noticing, and Dazai's presence has become a constant in your life—a quiet shadow that lingers just at the edge of your consciousness. The sharp sting of your past with the Sheep and Chuuya dulls over time, but never fully fades.

The distance between you and Chuuya remains an unspoken chasm. Your interactions—if you can even call them that—are cold and wordless. On missions, you move in separate orbits, never acknowledging each other; your shared history is now a buried scar.

Today feels no different. You stretch your arms high above your head, feeling the satisfying pull in your muscles. Your phone vibrates against your thigh, interrupting this brief moment of calm. Pulling it out, you see Dazai's name flashing on the screen. Just as you're about to reply, a shiver crawls up your spine—a menacing and cold presence behind you.

Your instincts kick in, and your ability flares to life. Without a second to think, you leap away just as a sharp gust of air tears through the spot you were standing. The wall behind you explodes into shards, crumbling into countless pieces that scatter around you like glass. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you whirl around, scanning the scene.

Blades materialize around you, your ability reacting to the threat, but the assailant moves too fast. A searing pain radiates through your body before you even have time to comprehend what's happening. The air is knocked from your lungs as you're slammed to the ground, crushed beneath an invisible weight so familiar, it makes your heart lurch—Chuuya's ability.

But no—it's not him. You scream, the sound tearing from your throat as a sickening crack echoes in your ears. Agony ripples through your body, and you gasp for breath, your vision blurring from the pain. Forcing your eyes open, you see a tall figure standing above you.

A young man, his blond hair catching the light, a black hat casting a shadow over his eyes. His presence is suffocating, dark and foreboding. “[Full name],” he says your name softly, almost reverently, as if savoring it. His voice is a quiet, dangerous whisper. You try to move, to fight, but your body is pinned, trapped under the crushing force. “Tell me,” he continues, his voice laced with an eerie calmness, “what are you to my younger brother?”

Through the haze of pain, you scowl up at him, your teeth gritting as you force the words out. “Younger... brother?” The taste of blood fills your mouth, dripping from the corner of your lips. Your body trembles, but you manage to spit out the question, incredulity thick in your voice.

A serene smile stretches across his face, but it's a smile lacking warmth, cold and calculated. “I'll start with you,” he says, leaning closer, his tone soft but chilling, “the one he cherished the most, more than anything in this world.”

Your heart stutters as his words sink in, but before you can react, a sharp crack fills the air, and the world around you plunges into darkness.

You have no idea how much time has passed—it feels like an eternity. When you finally pry your eyes open, you find yourself in darkness. The world is still and quiet, and you can't feel your body—every nerve seems muted, as if wrapped in cotton. A relentless pounding echoes in your skull, a dull throb that refuses to ease. The familiar stench of decay fills your nostrils, a scent that is oddly comforting, reminding you that you're safe here. This is Dazai's domain—a chaotic haven.

“...Dazai?” you call out, your voice a weak echo in the silence, but all that greets you is a heavy stillness. Your vision blurs as exhaustion creeps back in, and you close your eyes again, succumbing to the encroaching darkness that wraps around you like a shroud.

Stirring slightly, you suddenly feel a warm breath ghosting over your skin, a gentle caress that dances from your cheeks down to your neck, tracing the line of your arm until it reaches your hand, kissing the skin softly. It's an intimate sensation that pulls you from the depths of your haze. Fluttering your eyes open, the dim light from a single bulb overhead spills across the room, casting silhouettes that dance against the walls.

There, hovering above you, is Dazai.

You groan, your throat raw as he pulls back immediately. “[Your name]-chan?” Dazai breathes out, relief washing over his features like dawn breaking after a long night.

“Dazai...” you reply, your voice strained and exhausted as you slowly sit up, forcing him to kneel in front of you, bringing your eyes level with his.

“How are you feeling?” he reaches out, clasping your hand with his warm one, and you find comfort in his touch, letting out a contented sigh that feels foreign given the circumstances.

“Not good.” you admit, wincing as lingering pain radiates through your body, every movement feeling like a reminder of the fight that led you here.

Dazai's lips form a thin line, his brows furrowing with concern as he gently urges you back down before settling on the side of the bed. His fingers move with care, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Take a rest, [Your name]-chan.”

You nod, but then the memories of the previous fight—of the young man with blond hair in the black hat resembling Chuuya's—flood your mind, and panic rises like bile in your throat. “Dazai, that person—”

“Paul Verlaine. He's an assassin, [Your name]-chan.”

“Is he—”

Dazai interrupts, his tone clipped. “Everything's over. A week has passed since the incident, and you were out the whole time.”

A frown tugs at your lips, irritated that he keeps interrupting you. “He mentioned something about a younger brother.”

Dazai's gaze drifts momentarily, as if lost in thought. “Ah. He was referring to Chuuya.”

In an instant, you're rising from his bed, adrenaline pulsing through your veins. “Is Chuuya-kun safe? Where is he?”

Dazai watches you, his expression dark and inscrutable, an unreadable mask that only deepens your worry. “I told you, it's over already. No need to worry.”

Frustration bubbles within you as you search for reassurance in his gaze, but all you find is a stubborn need for you to comply with his words. “But Dazai—”

“Chuuya's fine. He's out there somewhere, alive. Really, who cares?” he replies, irritation seeping into his tone as he stands, looming over you. “Go back to sleep.”

Your temper spikes at his nonchalance. “I've been sleeping for the whole damn time, and you want me to sleep again?”

Dazai's eyes narrow, a hint of steel in his gaze. “Rest. Your body needs it.”

“I'm fine, Dazai.” you insist, determination driving you past him as you stride toward the door.

But Dazai sidesteps, blocking your way with an immovable presence. “Where are you going?”

You scowl, exasperated. “What is wrong with you? I'm going back to my room.”

Dazai studies your face, and then a bright smile breaks through, mischievous and infuriating. “Is that so? I'll accompany you, then.”

You glare at him, your patience wearing thin, and push him aside. He sighs, but he doesn't give up, following you closely as you march toward the door.

As soon as you reach the building, your steps are heavy with weariness, but your mind is even more burdened. You head directly toward your room, but Dazai, as perceptive as ever, immediately senses the hesitation in your movements. He notices the way your gaze lingers for just a moment too long on Chuuya's door before you turn away and enter your own room.

It's barely noticeable, but for Dazai, it's enough.

“Stop thinking about Chuuya, [Your name]-chan.” Dazai urges, his voice low and pointed.

You whip your head toward him. “What?”

He sighs softly, his lips pressing together, before he drops down onto the bed beside you, his body weight causing the mattress to dip. He leans his head against your shoulder. “You should only think about me. Forget about everyone else.”

It's times like this when Dazai frustrates you the most—his jealousy over Chuuya, his constant need to be the center of your attention. It makes you want to shake him, to snap him out of it, but you restrain yourself. Every mention of Chuuya seems to set him on edge, and it's exhausting.

The Dazai you met a few years ago wasn't like this. Back then, there was an air of playful mystery around him, a casual detachment that made him feel untouchable yet oddly magnetic. But something shifted after he became deeply entrenched in the Port Mafia.

The underworld's cruel reality hardened him, stripping away the lightness he once carried. Now, his once-charming mischief is tinged with possessiveness, and his cold, calculating side seems to have taken over, as if the weight of the Mafia's brutality has buried the Dazai you once knew beneath layers of cynicism and darkness.

You shake your head to dispel the thoughts. “I think about you all the time, Dazai.” you say flatly, sarcasm dripping from your words as you hope it cuts through his mood.

Dazai perks up, lifting his face toward you with wide, hopeful eyes, as if you've just uttered something profoundly meaningful. “Really?”

You nod, maintaining a deadpan expression. “Yeah. I often think about how annoying you are. Get out of my room. I'll see you tomorrow.”

The hope in his expression instantly morphs into irritation, his brows drawing together. “You're not being funny.” he mutters.

“I'm not even joking.” you retort, lying back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. The tension between you both feels like an ever-present weight, one you're growing tired of carrying.

A beat of silence passes before Dazai speaks again, his voice deceptively light, but you know better than to trust that tone. “Should I bring Chuuya here? I'm sure you miss him.”

The words send a shock through you, your body reacting before your mind catches up. In a flash, you're sitting up, eyes wide with alarm. “Don't you dare, Dazai.”

A slow smirk creeps across his face, his eyes glinting cruelly. “Why not? I could tell Chuuya that you wanted to talk to him. You've got no idea how much he talks about you even when no one's asking. Lovesick fools.”

Your gaze shifts away from him, suddenly finding interest in your fidgeting fingers. The mention of Chuuya always brings a swirl of conflicting emotions you'd rather not deal with.

Dazai's laughter breaks the tension, though it's more mocking than lighthearted. “Hahaha! I'm kidding. No way I'd bring Chuuya here. After all, you chose me over him, right?”

You sigh, the exhaustion settling deeper as you rub your temple, trying to ease the growing headache. “This again?”

Dazai hums in response, rising from the bed with a grace that contrasts the heaviness of the conversation. He moves toward the door and throws a glance over his shoulder. “Rest, [Your name]-chan.” He steps out, leaving behind a silence that feels both relieving and suffocating at once.

You're lost in the pages of The Complete Guide to Suicide, the morbid words pulling you deeper into Dazai's twisted mind. It's his book, one he lent you to pass the time while he's not around to accompany you, and you've been completely engrossed. So much so that you don't hear the door creak open until Elise is standing in front of you, her small frame exuding authority as she plants her hands on her hips.

“Hey, [Your name].” she says casually before snatching the book from your hands.

You gasp, looking up at her in shock. “Elise!”

She sighs, as if this has happened too many times, and hands the book back to you. “Rintarou says he wants you in his office.” Her voice carries a singsong tone, as though the request isn't anything urgent.

“Now?” You're already halfway out of your seat, startled by the sudden request.

Elise nods eagerly, her bright eyes dancing with amusement. “Right now. Come on!” Without waiting for an answer, she grabs your hand, her giggle echoing in the quiet room as she pulls you along.

As you walk down the hallway, Elise skips beside you, humming a light, carefree tune. Her grip on your hand is surprisingly firm for her small stature, and you feel slightly comforted by her presence. For some reason you can't quite fathom, the closer you get to the office, the tighter your chest feels.

The door creaks loudly as you push it open. Your gaze sweeps the room, and the first person you see is Chuuya, standing there with his hands tucked in his pockets. His sharp, blue eyes flick over his shoulder to meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze makes you pause, almost take a step back. But you swallow the hesitation, steeling yourself as you walk inside.

Elise lets go of your hand and hops onto Mori's desk, casually swinging her legs as if she owns the place.

“You called, boss?” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, as you take a step forward until you’re standing a few meters away from Chuuya.

Mori smiles, that unnerving, calculating smile he always wears. “Yes, I did.” He slides a folder across the desk, and Chuuya picks it up without a word. “I expect outstanding results from both of you.”

Your eyes dart around the room, searching instinctively for Dazai. “Dazai's not here...” you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else.

Mori blinks at you twice before a chuckle escapes him. “Oh? Dazai-kun has his own mission today. This time, it's just you and Chuuya-kun.”

The world feels like it stops for a brief moment.

Your mind races, heart hammering in your chest as the weight of Mori's words sinks in. You and Chuuya—alone.

“...I see.” you manage to reply, though your voice feels distant, as if it belongs to someone else.

Mori tilts his head. “Is there a problem, [Your name]-kun?”

You force a smile, ignoring the sympathetic look Elise gives you from her perch on the desk. “No, boss. We'll get it done.” You bow respectfully, and Chuuya mirrors your gesture. Both of you turn and walk toward the door.

Upon leaving the office, an awkward silence settles. The distance between you feels like miles, though you're walking side by side. Chuuya's presence is overpowering, but you refuse to meet his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed ahead, anywhere but on him. Even when you get into the car, you make sure to sit in the passenger seat, far from him. Chuuya doesn't comment, but you can sense the tension in the way his jaw tightens.

The mission unfolds quickly. You're surrounded by enemies, too focused on your task to notice the danger lurking in the distance. It's only when Chuuya appears beside you, his hand brushing your back, that you realize what's happening. You flinch at his touch, but before you can react, his bright orange aura, Upon the Tainted Sorrow, envelops you.

The bullets that were meant to strike you stop midair, and with a casual flick of his wrist, Chuuya sends the projectiles flying back to their source. The pained screams of your attackers fill the air as they drop like flies. Your breath catches, but there's no time to dwell on it.

With the mission finally completed and documents retrieved, you both head back to headquarters in silence, the dread of unspoken words between you growing heavier with each passing second.

Chuuya can't take it anymore after enduring a whole year and breaks the suffocating quiet, his voice low and controlled. “Are you really not going to talk to me, [Your name]?”

You freeze, stopping in your tracks. Your back is still turned to him, but your pulse quickens at the sound of his voice. He lets out a long, frustrated sigh and moves in front of you, his eyes searching yours. “I'm glad you're okay,” he says softly. “I heard Verlaine came for you first.”

You nod stiffly, but the words feel distant, like they're coming through thick fog. Meeting his eyes for more than a fleeting second feels unbearable.

“You've been hanging around Dazai a lot.” Chuuya's voice is tinged with bitterness. “Do you really like that suicidal bastard so much?”

You shake your head, refusing to engage, still avoiding his gaze.

Chuuya's scowl deepens, and in a sudden motion, he grabs your face, forcing you to meet his blazing eyes. “Don't avoid me,” he growls. “You've been doing it for a year. I've had enough. Talk to me, [Your name].”

Anger ignites inside you, and you shove him back, turning to walk ahead. “I don't want to talk to you, Chuuya-kun.”

His footsteps follow you. “Oi, I said talk to me! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to drag this misunderstanding for a decade?”

“I said, I don't want to. Are you deaf?” you repeat, voice cold, refusing to slow down.

Before you can take another step, Chuuya seizes your wrist. The air around you shifts, and an orange glow surrounds your body. Suddenly, you're weightless—dangling upside down.

“What the—!”

Chuuya stands below you, arms crossed, smirking.

You shoot him a fierce glare, anger boiling within you, but it's futile as you dangle upside down, helplessly suspended in the air. He chuckles softly, clearly amused by your frustrated attempts to regain control, savoring the power he holds over you.

After a few minutes, you give up, folding your arms across your chest with a huff. “Fine. Talk.”

Chuuya's smirk fades, replaced by a softness in his gaze, though a flicker of sadness lingers. He steps closer, and suddenly, your faces are dangerously close.

You can feel his breath warm against your lips, the space between you shrinking with every heartbeat. “Chuuya-kun—” Right as you can tell him to move away, his lips are on yours. It's gentle, almost hesitant, but the shock of it leaves you breathless.

When he pulls back, he deactivates his ability, and you fall—only to land securely in his arms before you can hit the ground. His grip is steady, but his voice is quiet, almost vulnerable. “I've always wanted to do that.”

You're too stunned to speak, your heart racing as the lingering warmth of his kiss burns on your lips. Your face flushes, and you stare at him, too stunned to move.

Chuuya's expression softens even further, and there's a quiet plea in his eyes. “I mean it. I want to talk with you, [Your name]. Can you at least give me that?”

Still reeling, you nod slowly, your voice lost to you. His arms tighten around you, a quiet relief settling over his features.