Chapter Text
"You're out feeding the cats again?"
Dazai looked up from his crouched position and flashed a smile, knowing and calculating. "Good evening, Higuchi! I thought the cats out here could use a little treat, don't you think?"
"That's… awfully kind of you, sir." The younger mafiosa stepped back to survey the array of bowls set out on the stoop of the mafia base, mostly occupied by stray cats of all shapes and sizes. She then looked back at Dazai, who had turned to watch the cats with a blank expression, his bandages dull against the falling snow, white against white. He looked so ghostly, the snow settling onto his black coat in growing drifts that he didn't bother to brush off, motionless as he was. It was almost like he was part of the scenery himself.
So it surprised her when he suddenly came alive, jumping to his feet and startling the nearby cats. "Kind? What a funny word for a simple act like this." He shook the snow off his shoulders, showering everything with tiny crystals. "You wouldn't call it kind if you knew my reasons for feeding them."
He stalked past Higuchi and set a hand on the door, ready to push it open. "I find creatures who trust me are easier to work with."
With that, he disappeared into the darkness of the mafia base, leaving Higuchi to shiver, knowing it wasn't from the cold.
***
"I have an idea!"
Mori looked up as Dazai barged into the office, throwing out his arms dramatically. "Boss, the holiday season is upon us! Surely you don't want it to pass us by and do nothing for it?"
"I didn't know you cared about holidays, Dazai." Mori folded his hands in front of him, looking him up and down. "What caught your interest this year?"
"A change of heart, I suppose. I just really think my idea is a good one."
The mafia boss arched a brow skeptically, but gave an indulgent nod. "What is it, then?"
Dazai clapped his gloved hands together with a resounding thump. "I host a secret Santa."
Mori let out a laugh, leaning over his desk as he shook his head. "You? Why is that? You never were the giving type."
"To show appreciation to all of you, of course." Dazai braced his hands against the desk, talking faster. "Come on, it'll be fun! It's been so dreary and boring here recently, with nothing important going on, and it takes mere minutes to organize. Besides, bored people don't perform tasks as well, and we want to keep everyone just the right amount of entertained, if you ask me. You won't have to do a thing; I'll assign everyone, and you tell me if you want to be included. I'll take care of everything."
"This is very out of character for you, Dazai." Mori sat back in his chair, looking amused. "But if you're so set on doing it, I don't see why not. Just try not to blow up the building with any of the gifts."
"Great, thanks boss. Can you call everyone together? I'll start now." Dazai dashed out of the room, only stopping when Mori called out:
"Add me to the list. I'm interested to see just what you're truly plotting."
***
"Gather 'round, folks. This is an important meeting."
Dazai sat backwards on a chair, pen and paper at the ready as he watched his fellow mafia members file in, looking puzzled. They were only here because Mori had summoned them, but the invitation was probably on the more lighthearted side, for no one seemed wary or hurried. Only Akutagawa was on edge, shooting angry glances around him as he edged into the room, fists clenched. That guy really didn't know how to lighten up. Even Chuuya seemed relaxed, taking a seat and glancing around curiously, no doubt looking for Mori. Everyone probably expected him to be there, leading the plans, but this was no mafia mission.
This was just Dazai, ready to have some fun.
So naturally he held up a megaphone and shouted into it: "HAPPY HOLIDAYS, PORT MAFIA!"
Chuuya yelled out a curse. Actually, a lot of them did, but Dazai only heard Chuuya before he collapsed into laughter.
"I will shove your head into that thing, Dazai!" Chuuya snarled, raising a fist. Akutagawa quickly stepped up and grabbed Chuuya's wrist.
"Don't you touch him. I'll take care of this." Shadowy tendrils sprang from Akutagawa's coat and smashed into the megaphone, shattering it into pieces right in Dazai's hand. He didn't flinch, only narrowed his visible eye as he slowly lowered his arm.
"That'll do, Akutagawa, thank you."
It was a good thing he was in a festive mood, able to rein in his disappointment at losing the megaphone— it really had been so short-lived— and plaster on a smile. "Well, I've got your attention! I know you're all thinking the boss should be running the show, but nope! It's me! I was put in charge of running a special little operation."
"An operation, you say? Say the word and I'll take care of it." Akutagawa pointed to himself self-importantly, and Dazai rolled his eyes.
"Not that type. Put your creepy tendrils away. This is for the holidays, a mission that requires the greatest of secrecy."
"Then get on with it!" someone else urged, echoed by several others. Chuuya in particular looked ready to burst with impatience, something Dazai wouldn't mind seeing. But that wouldn't be today.
"I am hosting… a secret Santa!"
Silence met his words, then an exchange of glances. Finally, a few nervous laughs.
"A secret Santa? Get real. That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard." Chuuya stood up, one hand on his dumb hat he always liked to wear. "I'm wasting time being here."
"What's the matter, do you hate fun?" Dazai pulled his most cunning grin, the one he knew Chuuya hated. "If you get me, it's a free pass for vengeance, you know."
A funny look crossed Chuuya's face, like he was trying not to show any excitement. "All right, tempting."
"So you want to get me a gift? Why, thank you! I feel I don't deserve it, but if you insist."
"You little— that's not what I meant!"
"What can we get other people?" Tachihara interrupted, shoving between the two. "I just spent a lot of cash on a new gun so it better not be over fifty dollars."
"Fifty? Cheapskate." Dazai muttered, annoyed by the distraction but recovering quickly. "But I suppose that's reasonable for those who don't work nearly as hard as I do. Fifty dollar budget. Have it ready by Christmas. Oh, and put your name in that little bowl over there so I can draw assignments later."
Akutagawa was already writing his name, finishing with a flourish and dropping the paper into the bowl with a sniff. "Excellent idea, Dazai. I will not let you down."
"I better get lucky with my draw," Chuuya grabbed his own paper and scribbled his name on it. "But even if I don't, I may as well do this dumb thing. I'll get something out of it in return."
"I knew you'd join." Dazai smirked as Chuuya tossed his name into the bowl. "Hope your giver gifts you another terrible hat and wastes their money."
Chuuya just scowled and stomped away, which was good enough for Dazai. He accepted the other papers with a growing sense of excitement, noting how many people were actually interested. He had gotten their attention, earned their participation.
Even for a silly thing like a secret Santa, having authority felt good.
He stuck his hand into the bowl and shuffled some names around, listening to the satisfying rustle of paper.
Don't you worry, Chuuya. The best is yet to come.
***
That night, when all was quiet and everyone was sleeping— or out killing people, maybe— Dazai sat and placed the bowl of names on the table. The glass looked like molten gold, lit by a crackling fire in the fireplace, but all Dazai noticed was the shadows, thrown in all different directions by the flickering flames. They seemed alive, monstrous things waiting to devour him, but they couldn't. He didn't fear shadows.
No time to think about fears, anyway. I have a job to do.
He thrust a hand into the bowl and withdrew a single name, setting it aside before plunging his hand back in. Quickly, he drew names, writing down who was assigned to who before turning to the discarded name.
"I have special plans for you, that's for sure." He filled out his own name, then the extra name right next to his own. "Would be a shame if I was your gifter, huh Chuuya?"
He made to toss the paper in the fire before stopping himself. "Right. You need someone to give to. Who's left over? I suppose you can give to Akutagawa." Pleased with the idea, he wrote down their names before flinging Chuuya's paper into the fire. “Well, that's done. Good night.”
He picked up the list and the bowl, then headed out of the room. Finally, he will sleep.
His plan was in motion.