Chapter Text
Dazai choked on his own breath. He had never run faster in his life but right now, he never thought he might run again.
Osamu Dazai, to this day, remains the youngest member (or ex-member now) of the Port Mafia. When the world saw a hopeless ten-year-old boy begging for a scrap of kindness in the streets of Yokohama, Ogai Mori saw potential. Lured in by the promise of revenge on the city that abandoned him, he accepted Mori's offer to join the Port Mafia and swore to take down all the scum that inhabited their city. That is until he met Sakunosuke Oda.
Somewhere in Oda’s heart, he knew how utterly cruelly the port Mafia treated Dazai. Seen as nothing more than a child, Oda would find the boy scratched and scarred in newer and more surprising places every time he saw him, which was quite often. Oda knew that if he intervened, it would only end up hurting both of them, so he brushed it off as necessary training. The Port Mafia was treating him better now than the world treated him before, right?
When Dazai turned 14, he became eligible to go on missions, but with the help of a partner. Oda saw this as the perfect opportunity to finally intervene, so he volunteered as his mentor. Now that Dazai was in the palm of his hand, Oda hoped this would finally put his concern at ease, but their increased time together only made Oda more sick with despair. Since they became closer, Dazai would return with more injuries than he had noticed before. Oda was reprimanded daily for not having a better grip on the boy, or for the lack of obedience Dazai displayed in front of higher-ups. Oda began to cover the boy's arms in bandages, in hopes maybe the beatings would hurt even the slightest bit less, but they would only fall off. So he bought more and more, and more until Dazai’s body was shrouded in cloth and bandages of all sorts. The only skin that could be seen on the Dazai’s body was on the boy's chin, forehead, and the very tips of his fingers. He had to get out of here.
With Dazai's intellect and Oda’s high ranking in the Port Mafia, they managed a smooth escape without a hint of their destination being left behind. They made themselves a home in the countryside and found jobs as detectives in their local neighborhood. Serious cases never usually popped up, it wasn’t as if murder struck their small town quite often. It was usually complaints of fraud or theft, or in some cases, domestic violence, which Oda would always have Dazai sit out on.
Their latest job stood out from the rest. A masked beast has been lurking through the woods at night, attempting to capture anyone who crosses his path. Dazai and Oda promised their town they would capture this beast before he claimed his first victim, but they never imagined his first victim may be one of them.
For the first time in almost 8 years, Dazai found himself completely alone. Except this time, for lack of a better phrase, he was quite literally alone; in a dark forest, at midnight, with not a single person or even critter nearby. Though the night seemed so silent to the birds warming their eggs in the treetops, Dazais mind made the whole forest sound like an elongated, never-ending scream. He was instructed by Oda that if he lost him, he was to return to their shed immediately. But even Oda knew he would never comply. Not only was Dazai too stubborn for his own good, but he had a debt to repay Oda. Maybe this was finally his chance, though he hoped it may be in a better setting.
It had been about five minutes since Dazai had started running and he felt his legs were about to give out. He couldn’t hear any footsteps following him and examined his dark surroundings. He had escaped the beast, but his partner was long gone.
It would be utterly foolish to shout for Oda. Not only would that alert the beast to his location, but Dazai suspected Oda was already knocked out cold. The two barely separated when Dazai heard a faint grunting from the distance, but didn’t hear any signs of running or impact. Either Oda was choked, or exposed to a toxic chemical that would cause fainting. The safest option was to remain where he was and examine his surroundings, which was difficult to do in the dead of night, not to mention turning a flashlight on would draw the attention of the beast even further. Dazai lowered himself to the dirt to check the mud for signs of footprints other than his, but there were absolutely none to be found.
“Shit” Dazai mumbled to himself once he determined it safe to do so. “Why didn’t we pack weapons?”
A warm puff of air suddenly ran down Dazai’s spine. He jolted up to examine his surroundings but not a single creature stood beside him, even as a pair of legs hugged his chest and pulled him back. The stranger pinned Dazai’s back against his slim waist and squeezed Dazai between his legs as he firmly pressed a wet cloth onto Dazai’s nose and mouth.
How the hell did he get to me? There were no footprints, no rustling, no evidence I was being tracked, even before he captured Oda!
Dazai attempted to scream but the stranger only pushed the cloth deeper between his lips. It wasn’t long until Dazai went completely numb and lost consciousness.
Dazai was accustomed to running. He had been doing it his entire life. But it seemed his captor had even more practice.