Chapter Text
"The Tranfer from Agency to Port Mafia, after careful consideration, will be..."
Dazai Osamu.
------------
Sometimes when you peer
into the water, you can see your
Own reflection. But it's only so surface deep.
Staring too long can warp your perception of who you believe to be, what others precieve you as- and who you truly are.
Like diving down further under the water, it's dark, and it hides things that you otherwise didn't want to dig back up.
'Blood the shade of Mafia black'
Didn't matter how much you
Scrub the Blood out from beneath your nails. Or how far you cut them away. Your hands will always be talons.
Adorning a new outfit and baring a sharp smile doesn't make you any less of a animal, and not any closer to being-
Human.
And eventually? After all is said and done, all chickens must go back home to roost.
That's just the way it is.
The Port Mafia doesn't host
Traitors in their midst.
°•○●---●○•°
Salty air.
Overcast sky.
Elevated sea levels.
Dazai leaned against the railing of the promenade sidewalk. His fingers intertwined as he stared out into the open, vast, Ocean.
The pelicans shrieked in the distance like a sorrowing cry, and the wind blew harsh and nippy against his pale face. Goosebumps began to blossom just underneath the surface of his bandages. His mind wandered far, and raced with anticipation.
. . .
It had only been a few hours before, when him and the rest of the Agency had gathered together, flocked like birds, while the Boss' Fukuzawa, held a letter emblemed with the Signature of the PM.
The news of who would be
Taken.
Nerves rose, and shoulders tensed as the letter peeled back, a hand with worn fingers reeled out the letter that looked decorated and carefully crafted to inform them of what was to come.
Even the Boss' usual firm, serious unmoving face- suddenly looked meek as he read through the letter first, silence louder than if he'd just spoken. But Words caught on the tip of his tongue while he hesitated. Silent Anguish consuming him, no doubt.. the pain of having to do this to begin with was.. more than cruel.
"With earlier terms agreed apon by both the Mafia's and Detective Agency's Superiors, I've sent this letter to formally give details about The The Tranfer from Agency to Port Mafia, after careful consideration, will be..." he began to read aloud, but silence soon followed.
He had paused, looking among the group infront of him, as he held tight the firm paper tight in his hand, the people he sworn to protect, to grant a better life...
Unfortunately for Dazai, he could see it written all over his old and tired face, the way his eyes never connected with his own, and the moment his shoes clicked against the ground, leading closer, and closer, until they stopped.
And placed infront of him, was the hand offering the emblemed card, dark brown eyes analyzing over it for a moment, unmoving. All eyes glued to him.
"Dazai Osamu"
His fingers didn't shake when he took the paper from Fukuzawa's hands.
And he didn't shake when he read over the words one last time. Seeing the intricate writing just below the rest of the texts, a signature.
Mori ougai.
Dazai didn't tremble when he summed up the energy to show a smile to the crowd of people, looking on to him with mixed emotions of, pity. Sadness. Anger. Resolve. Guilt.
Trying his best to give some sort of relief, blowing it off as something that simply was bound to happen in time. Even if his gut churned, and the small hopes he garnered over the few years being here began falling through the gaps of his fingers like sand.
A fading memory of someones face, exhausted, amused, understanding. The hope for something better.
But honestly?
He should have known better.
°•○●-●○•°
Dazai breathed in the humid air deeply within his lungs, a pain in his throat while he swallowed down the dryness, with nothing to soothe the burn.
He couldn't help the slight tremble in his hands as he tried to ease down the jittery Anxiety that began to slip through his appearance. He couldn't spiral, not now. That simply wasn't who he was.
He couldn't... he wouldn't- let terror take over him.
To show weakness, was to show your enemies that you could break. And Dazai Refused to give up his pride.
His eyes were staring Daggers out to.. well,nothing..
just cold callous eyes looking out toward the brewing storm that threatened to pour down its own wrath, nearly mimicking the weight of his own demise. It was getting colder, and his nose was rubbed raw, eyes mildly bloodshot for all the times he forgot to blink.
He could've stayed like that for hours, if it wasn't for the sudden faint call in the distance, that got closer. For a mere moment he could see it- the warm room of a slow runned Restaurant.. the burn in your nose as the spices wafted in the air.
Children, they laughed, played, such a faint echo.. a man, he sat across from him, auburn hair that was barely kept, a joke that sounded too serious to actually be a joke..
Dazai's eyes closed, the wind swaying him back and forth, while his hands gripped tightly to the railing, the beckoning called of the birds urging him to take the dive, disappear..forever this time..
'Would it make you a better man if you died while you were a hero? Or to be pushed back into your old ways and live?'
His thoughts blurted.
The warmth surrounding him
Strained, burned, and began to fizzle away
until the sounds of someone had Halted right behind him, and the brightly colored warmth burned out, returning to the cold, exhausting, and blue shades of Grey.
His eyes opened.
"Mr. Dazai... I'm- I'm so sorry-" the voice finally reached his ears.
The whistling of wind howled in his ear, for a moment he looked down into the water, thoughts flicking through his troubled mind, before he took a slow step back, hands pulling back from the bar.
He turned.
Atsushi had been there, worry written all over his face as he held his hands together, and bowed in respect, but he nearly looked as if he was at the brink of tears.
Why though?
It wasn't him who was being thrown back into the gallows...
Ah...
Sympathy. Right.
"Mr. Dazai, this shouldn't be happening! Please tell me you have a plan? Right? They can't just take you!- or- or anyone else! It's not fair!"
Atsushi stammered on as he looked up to Dazai, hurried and anguished.
Dazai had found himself staring
down at Atsushi idly.
Nearly lost on what to say?
What was he to say? That it was all
Gonna be alright? Maybe.
That was the responsible thing to do.
Dazai found himself moving, his arm rising just enough to rest lightly against the young man's shoulder. "Atsushi..." he mummbled.
Atsushi's head perked up as he stared into Dazai's eyes with a hope that could've lit up a room... but it pained Dazai in a way that never quite stung before.
"Yes?..." the white haired boy meekly answered.
Dazai took a small breath..
Then shook his head as if to
dismiss the thought entirely.
"This isn't something we can... push back against. What's done is done-"
Atsushi's eyes grew large-
as did his temper. And Dazai tried to
Finish his sentence.
"I do not want you attempting anything-"
But he was cut short.
"no. No. NO! Mr. DAZAI! you need to have a plan! You can't just let them take you like this! This is- this is insane!- why?- why not let them t-take me?"
The Boys voice strained as he
Tried to make a self sacrifice, despite
The obvious Hesitation and lack of bravery
To truly push himself through it.
Dazai shook his head swiftly, his hand turning firm as he gave a small squeeze.
"Atsushi." He firmed his voice, no longer lost in a daze.
"You're not going there. I'm not letting you, even if you tried. I get it. You want to be the hero. But the only way you'll be a real hero, is if you listen to me, and- Stay. Here." He calmly recited, grabbing the white haired boy by the face as he looked at the terror swirling within in them. He wondered if that's what Oda saw within him, all those years ago. The type of despair he tried to save him from.
Atsushi practically crumbled below him, sensitive and naive, something he at first forgot to appreciate when they first met. Training him so much gentler than he had been previously to others...
Arms wrapped around Dazai's body as the tiger boy engulfed him within a hug. A gasp left Dazai's mouth, staring down in surprise.
He was tense for a mere moment, before he eased in to give the other a hug. "Forgive me for not being able to decline this invitation... but I know you're going to be alright. So Don't worry yourself.. it's me we're talking about, I'll be just fine"
Dazai said with that coaxed cheery tone he laced on thick with his little Agency friends. It always seemed to soothe them, reasure, and make them believe his lies.
The sniveling boy with teary eyes, craned his neck up, completely distraught as he listened to the older man.
And truly seemed to take everything he said to heart.
Dazai flashed a smile as he chuckled.
"Relax kid. You act like I've never been in these kinds of situations before.. You're gonna be just fine. Just promise me you'll take care or everyone. And... remember to bother Kunikida till he blows steam out his ears, will ya?"
Dazai playfully mentioned before the tiger boy releases him from their hug, wiping his teary face off with his sleeve.
"I-I will... but you have to promise me that you'll try- really try.. to get out of there?-" Atsushi decided to ask the world of him.
Such..
A naive..
Boy...
Dazai lowly sighed as his head began nodding up and down, along with the other's demands. "Yes. Of course. Now common! Seriously gonna make the last few hours of my time here, crying?"
He half heartedly teased.
"I should he the one crying! I'm gonna be dying of borrrdem there" he playfully exaggerated, wrapping an arm around the younger man's shoulders, lovingly shaking him around a bit, and walking him toward the Agency in the distance.
"S-sorry, sir.." Atsushi lightly stammered, but seemed much more relieved about the situation..
Good. He didn't need to know
The truth Of what goes on within
That cursed place.
"Yeah yeah. I'll forgive ya, if you buy me some food. I'm starving~" he played along, taking the both of them back to the building, while the rain slowly began to drizzle..
°•○●-●○•°
Glass clicked down against the small round wooden table, created of the finest deep brooding colored Mahogany one could purchase around Yokohama. It matched practically everything in the room, which was finally adorned with plenty of things that screamed 'wealth'
A warm glow gleamed down from the light fixtures stuck to the wall. The large window that took up most the wall, showed a different scenery. Gloom, and Grey. The water poured down from the clouds, making rivets down the glass.
A soft thrum of precessions filled the room, while the Occupant inside Languidly sat in his deep red cushioned armchair, the one that outlooked the entire city from his window. His dark black hair framed the sides of his face, while his maroon eyes peered down at a Folder he had been browsing through.
Light pages turned to the next side, and over and over it repeated as he found himself humming along to the long string cord of a lonely violin that purred through the music he listened to.
By his side a girl with bright Golden hair laid, legs kicking in the air as she drew crudely on onto a clean piece of paper, crayons scattered around while her hand moved around, sporadic lines that slowly morphed into a picture.
*Knock knock knock
The door rattled,
and whoever had been waiting
Outside the room was silent, likely waiting for the person to actually enter, without getting into any trouble.
A sigh fell sadly from the Black haired man's lips, tilting his head back as he placed the folder down onto his lap, legs crossing slowly as he adjusted himself.
"Enter"
The words easily fell, before the large door immediately opened, a lone creek filling the hollow room. the sound a quick; but calm footsteps quickly followed suite
before long a shorter man with deep orange hair stood tall and proud by the other's side.
"Boss. Your letter has successfully been given to the Decetive Agencies director. It can be assumed the information of the transfers identity has already been confirmed."
Chuuya Nakahara, had quickly given his report, hand resting against his rano hat, to keep still, while he bowed his head out of habit and respect.
"Do you have any new orders for us?.."
Chuuya asked lowly, waiting silently as he awaited given orders. A crack of lightening painted the sky brightly, and a few moments later, a low rumble shook their bodies.
Mori Ougai,
The man sitting calmly in the fancy chair, cross legged, with fingers intertwined loosely, stared off into the city..a low hum leaving his throat as it tappered off to silence, never once glancing toward his executive.. as if he hadn't even been in the room.
"How long ago did that lovely Director read the message?"
Mori asked, eyes narrowing every so slightly, the wrinkles underneath his eyes thinning into deeper lines.
The girl by his side seemed to similarly scrunch her face, a crayon violently running in circles over the paper, smeers of black and brown forming out a person.
"3:30, sir"
The younger man replied.
"And... we can assume our little Osamu is aware of the situation he's in? Right?"
Mori lightly bounced his leg as he reached for his wine glass, lifting it off the table with a small clink, before he raised the glass to his lips, red being lightly sipped away, staining his pale lips.
"Yes. We can assume Dazai knows, Boss.."
. . . . .
"Orders?"
Chuuya waited, though his patients strained as the silence grew longer, eyes met with the carpet beneath his feet, counting over the patterns, and how many threads had to he sewn into each space to make such a intricate design. He changed the distributed weight from one foot to the other, still stanced in the brow, no matter how uncomfortable it grew.
The glass pulled away from the older man's lips-
"Hmm.. our dear Osamu is not the type to wait around for the inevitable to come.."
There was a pause, the wine slowly being swirled within the glass, as Mori Methodically began to think of what was to come, how to counteract it, and where to start.
"Chuuya-"
"Yes sir?"
For once, Mori's eyes flicked toward the young executive, for the first time since Chuuya had walked into the room, and now, his older face Adorned a smile, small, and frightening.
"I would like for you to take charge of the mission of successfully containing and bringing Dazai back. You may bring a group of your men with you and..- oh!- while you're at it, ensure that he's secured on the car ride back... he's an awfully slippery one, as you know.."
Mori's voice fell into a slow gravely groan, all the while his eyes flicked have to the discarded Folder he placed down, regaining the contents as he began to read, seeming unconcerned, and at ease.
"But otherwise... you are allowed to contain him in any ways you see fit.. after all, I'm sure you'll have plenty of things you'd like to 'catch up' on..."
Another thrum of thunder shakes the occupants of the room, and the little girl nearby seemed to easily disregard her crayons, now staring out idly toward the window, while her head tilted to her right the same way Mori's had, practically a mirror image.
....
There was always something so uncomfortable with the girls presence-
Chuuya would be the FIRST to tell anyone how her eyes never met her smile. The eerie way she always seemed to mimick, and resemble Mori when the Boss thought no one was watching, causing the finely crafted facade of the little girl's personality and existence to vanquish into a weird, abomination flesh puppet, nothing truly behind her eyes other than a doll.
She wasn't real, and everything she has done thus far? was all due to Mori, the puppeteer behind it all. How fitting. Something many, both outside and inside the Mafia- failed to notice.
"Yes, Boss."
Words quickly fled his mouth-
Chuuya snapped out of his daze in a instant when his wandering eyes pulled up from the Carpet- eyes suddenly made contact with the icy blue eyes of a blonde girl, somehow staring right into Chuuya's very soul. How did she know he was looking?
Her face twisted into a grin, with eyes squinted in a overly exaggerated look of humor. A giggle would follow quickly, but it was drowned out by the rain, and another bout or Thunder.
"Ah. Shouldn't waste anymore time here. Longer we wait, the easier it will be for Osamu to run off. Your task is now in affect. You are dismissed"
Mori swatted his gloved hand toward Chuuya, an eagerness to have the subordinate to leave him. At times, Mori himself acted rather childishly. Chuuya could see the resemblance between him, and Dazai, during these moments, though his lips remained shut, thoughts silently kept behind a smart mind.
"Yes sir. I'll retrieve him immediately"
Chuuya stood tall once more, releasing his hat as he placed his hands into the pockets of his pants. as he began to turn away from the Man and child, his eyes caught a glance toward the scribbled mess of paper and crayon, laid out on the floor, by the girl.
Messy black lines, thick and dark lined a tall lanky body, draped in darkness, while a mess of brown hair laid dimly atop the head of the individual adorning a large frown.
Perhaps between the obvious characteristics he seen, he could've written it off as some random person, but the last most noticeable and distinguishable feature, had to he the bandages draped over the drawings head and over his eye, forming a familiar friend- enemy- acquaintance.
He didn't linger long, brows pinched into a furrow, swiftly leaving the room before he'd be added to the list of sad drawings
amongst the little girl's collection.
Amongst Mori's collection...
The door quickly closed with a loud thud,
Leaving the man alone, truly, alone.
His eyes glanced between the folder he had been flipping through, and the picture on the floor, a upturned smile pulling taut to his lips. A low giggle replacing the silence as he reached down to rise the picture toward him.
"Oh, Osamu. I can't wait to have you home!"
His legs kicked like a child, leaning back against the Sofa whilst he admired the photo, like it was some sort of treasure, like pictures of your first newborn, sworn to protect and love for the rest of your demented life.
The little girl promptly stood up from her Place on the floor, pale hands suddenly snatching the photo from the older man, walking off without much care toward Mori.
"You're so weird, Rintaro.."
The higher pitched voice ringed out.
The man slumped
"So mean..."
°•○●streets of Yokohama●○•°
The rain was pouring hard now.
Heavy pellets of water pivoting down against the cold wet ground, while the thunder Roared in the sky, and the warmth of the café underneath the Agency swam with color.
Dazai had finally began to leave, the sky darkening, threatening of something sinister approaching. He really wanted to make it back to his little basic apartment before it got too dark..
So despite the knowledge
of what was to come shortly, Dazai had left his friends and coworkers of the Agency. Departing them after their last little get together inside the coffee shop left him with many questions. Atsushi practically crumpled into his chair the entire event, disheartened with the fact Dazai was being taken, though awful at hiding his feelings, he could give him props for keeping the waterworks at bay.
Yosano... probably the closest thing he'd ever have to a sister- not exactly because they were close, but for the sole reason that they had been practically raised, and brought up by the same man, and they both found it in themselves to despise him.. perhaps Yosano, more than himself.
She was better at hiding it. That miserable look in her eyes. Her body language claimed it wasn't a big deal, crossed legs, hand swirling her small coffee cup full of expresso. She chatted, tried to keep things lite.
Though she left him wondering...
She questioned when he was going to he picked up, which... Dazai had no idea, and he said as much. Though it wasn't completely true.
He knew how the Mafia operated, and he knew the tranfer was in affect the moment the letter was given, and read aloud to them.
Dazai could tell they all tried.. to make him 'feel better'
It was cute. And he politely laughed along and gave everyone his good graces, after all. For all he knew, this would he the last time he saw them. Their faces, how good they all seemed.
Kunikida was mostly silent through the whole ordeal. Many would say he was being stuck up, or modest, serious even.
But Dazai knew better. He felt guilty. Guilty that his partner was being sent away without any way to stop it. Kunikida was such a kind type of guy. Tried following everything by the books, to stop the worst from happening.
But Dazai let him be, even if he knew how
The blonde man was tearing himself apart inside. If Kunikida wanted to keep his hard shell exterior intact before he left? Then so be it.
He had no qualms with that.
There was no real words between him and Ranpo either.
Ranpo already knew what was going
To happen beforehand. They talked, though it was superficial, and just to run time while they waited for the unstoppable to approach.
Kenji tried his best to cheer him up-
Kyouka gave the deadpan solemn look she always did. She knew, there's no stopping it. And she was sorry, but that's as far as it all went.
On and on, Dazai read through everyone's feelings like a page from a really good book, until he was standing out in the rain.
Damn..
He was going to be absolutely
Soaked.
Step
After
Step.
He began rushing through the rain, pulling the back part of the tan coat he wore over his head, in attempt to shield himself from the onslaught. The material didn't cover much, but it let him see through the lines of thick rainfall, enough to walk down the sidewalk, hoping for the chance to get home.
Perhaps that was a dumb hope.
The dim sky only got darker
From there.
Bruising rainfall fell hard.
And Dazai's clothes were so soaked he felt as if he had just jumped into a pool, fully dressed, and it made his body absolutely heavy. He would have continued forward on his journey home, if it wasn't for the water finally soaking through his hair and down his face, into his eyes.
Damnnit.
. . .
Finding a place with a little
Head coverage, wasn't too difficult in the city. Plenty of alleyways having close by buildings that both shielded, and had overhangs of brick, or umbrella like material to keep out sun n' rain.
That's where Dazai found himself. Wiping the water out of his eyes as he slugged off the heavy layer of his Coat...
With a sigh, he pushed back the wet bangs from his face, looking around at the scenery... he wasn't sure if he could make his way home like this. He rolled his head back, and annoyed moan leaving his lips as he squinted his eyes, looking around for something- anything!
Forming a plan, traveling through the alleyways might give just enough cover to find a bar.. something that would he open all hours of the night.
Not to mention drown out the persistent headache beginning to form inside his head.
His lips pursed as he pulled his coat taut in each hand, beginning to twist and twist, tight knots until the water seeped into the fabric began to pour out onto the concrete below.
It wouldn't be perfect, but he could use it to cover his head again.
He'd go out into the horrific rain again-
For them...
For a single Malt scotch-
And a Bourbon whiskey.
.
.
.
Out in the pouring rain he walked, nearly slipping on some wet newspaper as he stumbled about like a fool without a car..
He was sure people out in this weather was looking at him like he was insane.
People inside buildings eyeing him, maybe it was pity? Or maybe they just hoped he wouldn't make eye contact with them and beg for money.
Either way, eyes were on him..
And further he walked... the more he noticed it. There really WAS eyes on him.
At first he couldn't notice it. He was in a busy city, people didn't stop for weather, no matter how hard it got. And where there was people, there was eyes..
But.. only when he got to a desolate part of town, away from prying eyes, did he realize... he wasn't alone.
There was a chill in the air.. and the rain didn't help it.
Dazai didn't stop walking.
Feet firmly moving, one step after the other...
His head tilted down, eyes scanning around, looking for anything, movement, people, lights.
Looking....
Road....
No lights....
No....
Wait.
There.
A car. Black. No headlights. Moving slow.
He knew it.
And as the car drove closer.. he had only two options.
Accept it.
It's too late anyways. Stop walking, let them escort him...
Or...
He hadn't thought of the second
Option long, before he bolted down the street, his coat used as an umbrella, unceremoniously falling flat to the sidewalk ground, becoming a beige puddle amongst the other litter.
Run.
The other option was run.
And he did.
He didn't look back.
His heart hammered in his chest, and for a time- he wondered if he could do it? Make a miraculous escape. Fly away into the night like all those years before. Become never less of a faded memory, just like his own memories slowly melted away.
He could hear it.
The Rev of an engine.
The heat against his heels, as if a beast breathed down against his neck.
He made a sharp turn break for it. Past the front of the moving car as pulled close to him, his body slid over and across the hood of the Vehicle, the sound of the breaks Halted, while he managed to land on the other side, rushing off into a nearby alleyway, before he heard the opening and closing of the car's doors, running footsteps following quick behind.
Dazai scramed, dont to the right, slipping against rubble as his feet carried his farther than they had in a long time.
Truthfully? he wasn't completely in his prime as he had been. All that work in the Mafia, the strength and endurance he garnered? It withered away the few years he went into hiding. And without being on a strict protocol, he was left, less than satisfactory.
His breath picked up, smoking out against the cold air.
he could hear the voices..
The agents running down and catching up closer.
He couldn't outrun them...
Lasting like this wouldn't work.
Stopping in a dead-end alleyway,
He paused. Scanning around.
His head snapped to the sound of
A man drawing closer.. a grimace painting his face as he took one last look at his surroundings..
.
.
.
The man from the car began his track down the alleyway. Water seeping into his shoes while he stood around. It was a Dead-end street. Trash littered the ground, and a small dim light flickered on and off.
He let out a long drawled out sigh, raising his finger to his ear, clicking a small button on his earpiece.
"Nothing here..did you want me to-... right. Checking other route now..."
The man sighed, wiping the water off his forehead before he turned heel to leave the dead-end, holstering his gun while he left.
Step by step, he echos got quieter, until the sound of walking completely disappeared. The alleyway going silent as I'd no one had been there at all..
Slow, quiet movement began making itself known, as Dazai crept his way out of the wet cardboard box planted nearby a garbage bin.
Crawling out on his hands and knees left scuff marks on his once clean clothes. Smelled awful, but at least the rain could wash it away. He was grateful for once, because of the rain he was able to conceal his breathing long enough for the agent to leave.
But he wasn't out of the clear yet.
The Mafia knew he was here.
They'd be searching this part of town all day and night if they had to. Moving wouldn't be much of an option.. and eventually, they'd circle back here.
His eyes scanned the remaining area, spotting a old decrepit metal door near the flickering light. Must've been the back door for whatever building this was- a restaurant, or maybe an apartment complex.
The inside really didn't matter to Dazai, as long as he could get inside, and recuperate himself? He'd be happy.
His feet carried him toward the door, while his hand carefully latched onto the handle, eyes scanning quickly behind him before he gave a firm pull.
. . .
Nothing.
He cursed under his breath, chewing on his inner cheek as he gave another turn and tug. It was definitely locked, just his luck, truly.
No hole on the handle either, couldn't lockpick his way out of this one...
With a heavy sigh and a slow drudge walk a small distance away from the door, he turned back around, facing the door with the light blinking 'target! Target!'
Before a suddenly dash toward the door, aiming his arm toward the obstacle, bashing harsh into it!
The metal groaned... but it didn't fall. But there was some give to it, weakening the metal fixture.
ouch.
He pulled back, rubbing his arm
In pain, teeth gritted before he relaxed. "Fuck.. okay.. one more-"
He talked himself into it, beginning to hype himself up as he moved quickly toward the door once more, making harsh contact.
CcCRrrRrhhhkK
The door slowly fell forward with a sudden
THUD.
Dazai panted in relief as he walked inside, wasting no time to get out of the rain, and away from the agents. He could only hope it wasn't too loud, the rain should have been able to drown it out.
Walking slowly inside, he could tell the building must've been some old laundromat, stocked with plenty of chairs, old towels, clothes, and cleaning supplies.
He couldn't tell if it was permanently closed, or if someone would likely come in during the early morning, wondering why the hell their door was bashed in...
Damn.
Dazai dug through his pocket, fishing out a completely soaked wallet, while he laid out some wet 40000 yen on the counter... maybe that could cover for a new door.
And to not to get in trouble for
Breaking something again...
Though.. would that matter if he got through this? He certainly wouldn't be back at the Agency.. would he?
Guess the 'good deeds' he was doing
would only be known by himself. Which was.. fine.
Quiet footsteps echoed through the small laundromat, Dazai rummaging through some of the folded nearby towels, inspecting one closely... less he get lice... or fleas... ugh. Last time he got lice was a nightmare, back when he lived in a Storage container in the landfill. Guess it could've been worse.
After close inspection, Dazai began roughly drying off his hair with the towel, running the soft fiber over his face as well, just to warm up his nose, and hopefully not catch a cold.
It had been a long day.. and he was absolutely exhausted, which was rare..
Usually Dazai had horrible trouble getting to sleep, over the counter pills didn't help much, and the only other things that ever helped aid him into getting sleep? Was booze.
And he had a bad feeling, he wouldn't be going to any bars, anytime soon. His shoulders slumped as his face rested in the soft cloth of the towel..
It smelled nicely or floral and lint. He couldn't fallen asleep right then and there, swayed by the gentle tapping of rainfall, and the darkening sky, leaving him shrouded in darkness..
Breathing in deeply he focused on his surroundings. Rumbling thunder, wind bustling, his heart slowing down. The smell of flowers, mothballs. Cotton.. cologne..
Cologne?
Definitely wasn't his own. Washed away long ago in the rain...
He blinked open his eyes as he pulled the towel back, inspecting it again as he leaned in for another sniff..
Familiar with the lingering touch of something sweet yet strong and pungent. Touches of sage, bergamot.
A sound from behind!-
He pulled forward to outrun whatever was to come!
A thud to the back of his knees, collapsing him forward toward the courtesy chairs lining the walls. His hands dropped the towel in order to catch himself.
A Grunt left his throat unwillingly, attempting to scramble up, before arms pull taut around him, and with the heat of another so closely pressed against his back, a hand holding around tightly against his jaw n' neck-
He quickly recognized the scent.
"Chu-..uya!-"
He wheezed out as his hands gripped tightly to the arms squeezing him.
For a moment he thought maybe this was an assassination attempt. Chuuya always talked about how he wanted to kill him, maybe this wouldn't be such a awful way to go.
But instead, he felt the arm around his torso pull back, the sound of ruffling fabric and leather following, before the sharp feeling of a needle pressed firm and deep into the side of his neck.
Dazai inhaled sharply, his arms swinging back to hit and elbow his assailant in the stomach! But the needle quickly retracted before it was dropped on the ground with a clink.
the arm around his torso returned, though it didn't squeeze, despite his fighting, he thought maybe at first he was succeeding, but then he felt the heaviness swimming in his head, in his vision.
His feet had given out? And his body was slumping. He wasn't winning, he was passing out, and the arms around him weren't squeezing him close because his body was falling over. Chuuya was catching his dead weight.
Dazai's mouth slacked open as he fought against the drug administered inside of him.
"N-n...no.. chuh...chuuya.. w..wait-"
His voice failed him, slurring out speech as his body failed to fight back.
"Sorry.. Boss's orders."
Chuuya replied dully.
A choked out groan left Dazai's mouth, unable to speak words anymore, as Chuuya's easily lifted the wet man into a bridal style hold, watching as the Brunette's head rolled back, the dark eyes unable to focus on anything.
"Hey?....Shithead.. Stop fighting it will ya? You don't gotta show off. Just relax, you're not dying-" Chuuya muttered, though paused as he thought over his words. Maybe Dazai would he more upset that he wasn't dying.. what would ever be the right thing To say in this moment? What did it matter?
"Just.. go to sleep, Osamu"
Dazai's eyes dimmed, and his quiet mumbling silenced as his body succumbed to the drug.
.
.
.
It all went exactly as planned.
Welcome back Dazai Osamu.
The Black wreath Demon prodigy.