Chapter Text
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Mori's lips.
The expression suggested amusement rather than offense, as though Chuuya's outright refusal had merely confirmed something he had already expected rather than challenged his authority. If anything, he appeared more entertained than irritated.
The reaction did absolutely nothing to improve Chuuya's mood.
His expression darkened.
Outside, another flash of lightning illuminated the skyline beyond the windows, bathing the office in pale white light before darkness settled over it once more.
The shadows seemed deeper afterward.
More oppressive.
"You're talking about Gotham," Chuuya continued, speaking with the careful patience of a man attempting to explain an obvious fact to someone who had somehow become detached from reality. "Not some random city with a handful of vigilantes causing trouble for local law enforcement. Gotham."
The name lingered in the air.
Even within the Port Mafia, Gotham possessed a reputation that extended far beyond its borders.
Criminal organizations spoke of it.
Intelligence agencies monitored it.
Governments kept files on it.
The city had become something of an anomaly.
A place where corruption thrived despite endless attempts to uproot it.
A place where crime flourished despite the efforts of countless authorities.
A place that by all reasonable logic should have collapsed beneath the weight of its own dysfunction years ago.
Yet somehow it endured.
The reason was surprisingly simple.
Batman.
Stories about Gotham's protector traveled remarkably well throughout criminal circles.
Some were undoubtedly exaggerated.
Others were likely impossible.
The distinction rarely mattered.
Legends had a tendency to grow regardless of whether they were true.
Nobody seemed capable of agreeing on exactly who Batman was.
Everyone agreed on one thing.
Investigating him was a terrible idea.
"Criminals are terrified of him," Chuuya said. "Assassins avoid him. Intelligence agencies can't figure him out. Half the people who try to uncover his identity end up wasting years chasing dead ends."
His gaze narrowed.
"And you want us to succeed where all of them failed."
Several feet away, stretched comfortably across one of the office sofas as though he were attending a social gathering rather than an executive briefing, Osamu Dazai slowly raised one hand.
"I have to agree with Chibi here."
The vein that immediately appeared in Chuuya's forehead suggested he had reached the limits of his patience.
"Don't call me Chibi."
Dazai ignored him completely.
His attention remained fixed on Mori.
For once, there was very little humor in his expression.
The usual carelessness that accompanied most of his behavior had faded considerably.
Not entirely.
That would have been unusual.
But enough to be noticeable.
"This is a suicide mission."
The statement settled over the room.
Nobody immediately contradicted it.
Outside, rain continued hammering against the windows with relentless determination while distant thunder echoed across the city.
Mori regarded Dazai thoughtfully.
Dazai met his gaze without hesitation.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
The silence felt deliberate.
Measured.
As though both men were quietly evaluating one another.
Then Dazai sighed.
The sound was dramatic enough that it might have seemed exaggerated coming from anyone else.
With Dazai, however, certainty was impossible.
"Let's review the facts," he said. "Batman has successfully avoided being exposed by intelligence agencies, governments, criminal organizations, assassins, private investigators, conspiracy theorists, and people who were undoubtedly convinced they were the smartest person in the room."
He paused.
"Most of them failed."
Another pause followed.
This one lasted longer.
"Several of them failed very painfully."
"Exactly," Chuuya said immediately.
Dazai pointed toward him.
"See? Chibi understands."
"I'm going to punch you."
"Violence is never the answer."
"Neither is investigating Batman."
Mori allowed the exchange to continue for several seconds before finally raising a hand.
The gesture was small.
Subtle.
Immediately, the room fell silent.
The authority behind it required no explanation.
The two executives might argue with one another endlessly, but neither of them had any intention of ignoring their boss.
"Yet I seem to recall both of you accepting assignments that carried equally high mortality rates."
Chuuya looked unimpressed.
"There's a difference."
"Oh?"
"Those assignments actually had a chance of succeeding."
For a moment, genuine laughter flickered in Mori's eyes.
Then it vanished.
The atmosphere shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not enough for an outsider to notice.
But enough.
Enough that both executives straightened slightly.
Enough that the joking stopped.
Enough that Dazai's expression became just a little more attentive.
Mori leaned back in his chair.
The city stretched endlessly beyond the windows behind him.
Lightning flashed.
For the briefest of moments, his silhouette became a dark outline against the storm.
"Batman interests me."
The statement was simple.
The implications were not.
Neither executive spoke.
When Mori adopted that tone, interruptions became unwise.
"There are countless gifted individuals throughout the world," Mori said quietly. "Individuals capable of destroying buildings. Manipulating minds. Altering reality itself."
His fingers tapped lightly against the surface of the desk.
A slow.
Steady rhythm.
"There are military organizations capable of influencing entire nations."
Another tap.
"There are intelligence agencies with access to information powerful enough to topple governments."
Another.
"And yet one man with no known ability has managed to become one of the most influential figures in an entire city."
Silence followed.
Rain struck the glass.
Thunder rolled.
Somewhere far below, Yokohama continued moving through another storm-filled night completely unaware of the conversation taking place hundreds of feet above.
"He commands fear from criminals who should have no reason to fear him."
Mori's gaze settled upon them.
"He possesses resources rivaling multinational corporations."
Another pause.
"He gathers information faster than most intelligence agencies."
Neither Chuuya nor Dazai interrupted.
By now, they understood something important.
This wasn't curiosity.
Curiosity was harmless.
This was something else.
Something considerably more dangerous.
Mori's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"And despite years of investigation by some of the most powerful organizations in the world, nobody knows who he truly is."
The words lingered.
Dazai felt a familiar sensation settle in the back of his mind.
Interest.
Not Mori's interest.
His own.
Because Mori was right.
That was strange.
Genuinely strange.
People left traces.
Everyone did.
No matter how careful they believed themselves to be.
Patterns emerged.
Mistakes happened.
Secrets surfaced.
Yet somehow Batman had managed to remain hidden for years.
The mystery alone was intriguing.
Unfortunately, intriguing mysteries were often the ones most likely to get people killed.
A small smile appeared on Mori's face.
"You will travel to Gotham."
Neither executive looked happy about it.
"You will investigate Batman."
The smile widened slightly.
"And you will discover his identity."
The silence that followed was immediate.
Then—
"No."
Chuuya's answer arrived without hesitation.
Beside him, Dazai nodded.
"No."
Mori's expression remained pleasant.
"I wasn't asking."
The storm continued raging outside.
Inside the office, the atmosphere somehow grew even heavier.
The silence that followed did not break so much as it deepened, stretching itself thin across the vast space of the office until even the sound of rain striking the glass seemed distant, muffled, as though the entire world beyond the windows had been pushed further away by the weight of what had just been said.
Outside, the storm continued without pause, relentless sheets of water dragging down the towering glass panes of the Port Mafia headquarters while the city of Yokohama shimmered beneath it in fractured reflections of gold and white light, each flash of passing headlights or neon signage dissolving into blurred streaks that made the world below feel less like a place and more like something half-remembered.
Inside the boss’s office, however, nothing about the atmosphere resembled that kind of distance or calm.
Mori remained seated for only a moment longer before rising from his chair with the same unhurried composure he always carried, as though every movement had been decided long before it was ever performed, and stepping away from his desk without any visible urgency, his expression still carrying that faint, controlled smile that never quite reached the level of warmth it appeared to promise.
"You have your mission."
The words were not spoken loudly, yet they carried with them a sense of finality that made argument feel unnecessary even before it could be considered, settling into the room with the quiet inevitability of something already decided long in advance.
Chuuya clicked his tongue sharply, irritation flashing briefly across his face as he turned away in clear dismissal, already done with the conversation and already moving toward the door with the kind of restrained frustration that suggested staying any longer would only make things worse, while Dazai followed more slowly behind him, hands resting loosely in his pockets, posture relaxed in a way that looked almost careless to anyone who did not know him well enough to recognize the difference between ease and calculation.
They had not taken more than a few steps when Mori spoke again.
"Dazai."
The sound of his name cut through the room with quiet precision, immediately halting all movement as though the word itself had been placed deliberately into the air to stop him exactly where he stood.
"Stay behind."
The effect was immediate.
Not gradual.
Not hesitant.
Immediate.
Dazai froze in place, his body locking into stillness so abruptly that it seemed almost unnatural, as though something beneath the surface of him had tightened without warning and refused to loosen, while a cold and familiar weight settled low in his chest with slow, deliberate certainty, spreading outward in a way that made even breathing feel briefly more conscious than it should have been.
He did not turn at first.
Not fully.
Only partially, as though even that small motion required effort he had not anticipated needing, while the rest of his body remained oriented toward the door and toward escape that was no longer available in the way it had been seconds earlier.
Across the room, Chuuya noticed immediately, because of course he did, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly at first before sharpening into something far more alert and uneasy as his gaze moved between Dazai and Mori, reading the change in posture, the stillness, the silence that now felt heavier than it should have.
"I can stay too."
The words came too quickly, sharper than intended, edged with something that was not quite defiance and not quite concern, but something caught between the two as Chuuya stepped half a pace forward without fully realizing it, as though instinct alone had overridden the decision to remain uninvolved.
Mori did not move at first.
He simply looked at him.
That alone was enough.
The room felt smaller almost instantly, as though the walls had subtly drawn inward under the weight of his attention, and even the sound of the storm beyond the glass seemed to lose clarity for a moment, reduced to something distant and irrelevant.
"No."
The reply was quiet enough that it almost blended into the rain, yet absolute in a way that left no space for interpretation, carrying the kind of authority that did not require repetition because it did not expect to be challenged twice.
Chuuya hesitated.
Only briefly.
But it was there.
A fraction of a second where instinct and logic collided, where concern pushed against obedience, where every muscle in his body seemed ready to move but chose not to.
His jaw tightened as he looked away.
Not in acceptance.
Not in agreement.
But in recognition of limits that could not be crossed without consequence.
Slowly, reluctantly, he turned toward the door and walked out, each step heavier than the last, until the soft click of it closing behind him sealed the office in silence so complete it felt almost unnatural in comparison to the storm outside.
Dazai remained standing.
He did not move further.
He did not speak.
The air between him and Mori stretched thin, taut, waiting.
Then Mori rose.
The movement was slow, deliberate, and entirely unhurried, as though time itself had little relevance to him in moments like this, and stepped away from his desk with the same controlled ease as before, circling it once before beginning to walk toward Dazai without breaking eye contact.
"Dazai."
His voice had changed.
Not in volume.
Not in tone.
But in weight, softened at the edges in a way that made it more unsettling rather than less, like something carefully wrapped in politeness that concealed something far less forgiving underneath.
He circled him slowly now, unhurried steps echoing faintly across the polished floor as though he had all the time in the world and no reason to waste any of it, moving around Dazai in a way that made the space itself feel narrower with each passing second.
"Do you know why I asked you to stay behind?"
The question was not rushed, not expectant, not even particularly demanding, yet it carried the shape of an answer already decided, as though the purpose of asking was not to learn but to confirm.
Dazai exhaled slowly, carefully, the kind of breath that required control rather than relaxation, before answering in a voice that remained steady despite everything tightening beneath the surface.
"Because I defied you, sir."
A pause followed.
Long enough to feel intentional.
Then Mori spoke, "Yes."
The word was quiet.
Almost approving.
And then everything shifted.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But with the simple certainty of inevitability.
The strike came without warning, without preparation, without any visible change in expression or posture beforehand, and yet the impact was immediate and precise, sending Dazai sideways in a motion that stole balance before thought could intervene, forcing the ground upward to meet him in a single harsh collision that left a ringing silence in its wake.
For a moment, there was nothing but that silence, layered over the steady continuation of rain outside as though the world had chosen not to acknowledge what had just occurred inside the room.
Mori exhaled once, softly, almost like a sigh of mild disappointment.
Then he moved closer.
Kneeling beside him with unhurried precision, as though the position he chose carried no urgency at all, only intent, and Dazai reacted instinctively before fully regaining awareness, attempting to pull back, to create distance, to recover control of something that had already slipped out of reach.
A hand caught him immediately.
Fingers closed around his face with quiet certainty, not forceful in a chaotic sense but absolute in a way that allowed no resistance, tilting his head upward until he had no choice but to meet Mori’s gaze.
The grip was steady.
Controlled.
Final.
Mori studied him for a long moment, expression unchanged, composed as ever, before speaking in a voice that remained almost conversational despite everything beneath it.
"Don’t ever contradict me again."
A pause.
Then, quieter still, with deliberate emphasis that made the words settle deeper than they should have.
"Not in front of others."
The silence that followed felt complete.
Dazai did not speak.
Did not move.
The rain continued outside, indifferent and endless, while Mori watched him for a few seconds longer as though confirming something only he could see, before finally releasing him and rising back to his feet with the same calm ease he had used to kneel in the first place.
As though nothing had happened at all.
As though nothing ever did.
"Very well."
He returned to his desk.
Sat down.
Straightened a stack of papers with precise, measured movements that belonged entirely to a different reality than the one Dazai was still standing in.
"Prepare for Gotham."
The tone was light again.
Ordinary.
Almost polite.
Dazai remained still for a moment longer, then slowly turned toward the door and left without another word, closing it softly behind him as though even sound itself should not be allowed to disturb the fragile normality Mori had restored.
Outside, the storm continued to fall without end.