Fear of pain
-Riki's POV-
If I had a nickel for every time I was stalked in this world, I'd have three. This isn't a lot, of course, but I sure as hell don't like how the number keeps going up every year.
At first, it was Hiroto, a poor kid who had no clue what he was getting into until it was too late. Then Dazai took over, the story really should've ended right there. Dazai is not a force to be reckoned with. When he decided he was gonna stalk me, he got my parent's permission, secured his position well in my family tree, and even got me on board. Sure, I sometimes rebel, but I got used to living like this, even started to enjoy it too.
But M is trying to mess it all up.
If it was just plain old me getting affected, I'd not mind, really. But it's not. M's been stalking me since the sports festival. Do you know what it means? It means since the Nishikata era, I had a stalker whose initials weren't D and O. Dazai's not gonna take it lightly. He already has beef with Nishikata, this will take things up more than just a notch.
Even if he lets Nishikata off the hook, he won't forgive the school's security system. I'm talking about teachers and guards losing their jobs here, and if I'm unlucky, Dazai's own security guards will infiltrate for the sake of my protection. I'm an alien, my secrets are revolutionary, even Ango won't intervene. Dazai will get away with being extreme yet again, and no one will raise a question. Not even my super chill Nii-san.
And above all else, M will die. Sure, he's a stalker, but ultimately he's a high schooler who knew nothing better. He deserves suspension, maybe even expulsion for his crime, but not death.
If I want to save his life, and protect my quiet school life, I gotta do something about it without letting Dazai know. It's impossible, I'm aware. Just one look at my face, he'll know something's up. With me being his assistant starting today, there's a high chance he will figure it out tonight. By tomorrow, M will be packed and thrown away like trash before I know it.
But I'm not one to give up.
"Psst, hey." I call out to the girl sitting behind me, leaning backward over her desk, "Yumi-chan. Do you have a sec?"
"Yup." She says almost instantly, as I hoped she would. She's not one to enjoy history classes. "Whatcha need?"
"Umm, this," I pass her my math notebook, where I found the note.
"...You want help with math?"
"Look inside."
She becomes quiet for a looong while. I watch the history teacher hover over a world map, showing us some ancient artifact, telling us how it links to some strange civilization I've never even heard of; my ears sharp, waiting for Yumi to say something.
"Holy shit..." I hear her words of amazement, "You have a secret lover..."
"Stalker, not a lover."
"Aww, give the boy a chance~! He's got dirt on you, how romantic is that? What, did you poke your nose or something?"
I roll my eyes.
"So what do you want me to do? Clearly you're not interested in my awesome listening skills as you rant."
"...What's there to rant about anyway? I got a stalker."
"Hmm, fair point."
"I want you to find him for me."
Yumi gets quiet again, probably processing my request. To me, she's the safest option. She is a talented journalist who knows stuff about practically everyone, she has connections all over the school, and people generally let her get away with whatever the fuck she wants cause she's pretty. If she's on the lookout, it will just blend with her M.O. without looking suspicious. And I won't have to look for alibi and excuses to give to the demon prodigy who will just see through it regardless.
"I can do that..." She says, lengthening her sentence with a brief pause, "But what's in it for me?"
"Me, obviously." I shrug.
"You?"
"Yup." I nod.
I'm a catch for Yumi, a journalist who wants to dig out the sketchiest shit like the existence of Port Mafia. She wants to bring the whole organization to the light so the government would step up and cleanse Yokohama off them. Pretty huge goal, probably even huger than me wanting to obliterate Mimic and save Odasaku. She cannot achieve it, if she doesn't have a security system. In other words, ability. I, on the other hand, is brave, strong, and with a fun ability. I can be that security system for her. Even though I won't help her achieve that goal. I like the mafia. It's a necessary evil.
Mori can go fuck himself, though.
"Alright. But only because you're a good friend." She says after a while. "Do you have any idea who it could be?"
"I think he might be an ability user. He has some type of ability that lets him stalk without being physically present. I may be an airhead, but there's no way I wouldn't know he's there."
"Pretty confident, aren't you?" She teases, but I brush it off. What does she know about Dazai's rigorous training anyway? "I'll start the search after school today. You sticking around till I find something?"
"Nope. I have stuff to do today. And oh, don't contact me through the phone. Just tell me the results tomorrow."
"You sound like a cheating wife." She scoffs, and I can't disagree.
I am trying to cheat Dazai, after all.
*
But how do I cheat Dazai?
I have tried multiple times to sneak around without him knowing, but it always ended in him finding out regardless. I could delay it during the Midnight issue since we didn't have to meet every day, but this time, I gotta go sit beside him and work. He hates working, so obviously he'll do anything but work. That means his attention will be on me the entire time...
I swallow my breath. The more I think about it, the more impossible it seems. If only I was a diligent student who looked through her math book before asking the demon to let me be with him...
My finals are right after Valentine's Day, and with both M and Dazai on my plate, I don't have much time to study. And I have plans this Valentine's, alright? I wanna make some chocolate and feed it to my favorite men... so even though my brain's a mess, I still do some studying before night falls. Then I slowly get ready for my first day at work.
I love the mafia's suit-boot uniform look, to be honest. It makes me feel a certain way that is entirely pleasant, but today, I choose not to wear a suit. After all, I am asking for Dazai's help with Karma, and I have feelings for him, if I dress up cutely to try and appeal to him, it won't look suspicious. If I'm lucky, Dazai would become too distracted to catch on the fact I'm hiding a stalker from him.
I pick a cute black and white dress, fitted but not too tight, something that hangs just above my knees. Opaque black pants, and black shoes in which I can run while still being adorable. I put on barely noticeable makeup, curl my hair, and keep it open so it dances on my shoulder. I pick long, white earrings, and wear a silver wristwatch as an accessory.
I say goodbye to the uncle and get in the car pretty confidently, but the moment the car starts moving, I get a little unnerved. After all, it's Dazai and I don't like hiding stuff from him. He's my bestie in this world, I wanna tell him. I wanna gloat to him so much that it feels silly.
I notice Ito's eyes on me in the rearview mirror, beside him, Kimura is sitting; his eyes are also on me.
"Do you guys have something to say?" I question, pretending to be cool.
Ito looks startled, a bit hesitant. Then he forces a polite smile, "It's just that... it's all too sudden. Riki-san resuming her job as Dazai-san's assistant..."
"Dazai-san is whimsical, what can I say?" I smile, closing my eyes.
"Is... tonight going to be a date night? Should I tell my wife I'll be late?"
"We're not dating, and no. Your job will end before midnight so you can go home soon."
"Oh..." He laughs, a bit unready. "I see."
The rest of the drive is awkward. If Nishikata was here he'd make me feel welcome, but with Kimura here, no such scene occurs. We quietly reach the HQ. Powerful streetlights are lighting up the way for us inside the HQ, with mafiosos guarding every point of the path. Their stance, and weapons, mixed with the darkness of the night make everything a hundred times scarier. I've been here at night a couple of times, but all of those times Dazai was with me. Now, being alone in the passenger seat behind two guards, I feel a little scared. I can't wait to see him.
Our car stops at the entrance of the building where Dazai's office, as well as Mori's office, is. There are five buildings, each with one executive as its head. Dazai is the boss's right hand, so he obviously has to be in the same building as the boss. I know he doesn't mind not being the highest authority in his own building, but I sort of do. I don't wanna get into Mori's sight, and although Dazai's on an entirely different floor, there's still a risk...
A few mafiosos are waiting on my arrival; they politely receive me and tell me that their executive is waiting for me. Annoying, right? He sent some guards instead of being here himself. It's like he doesn't even love me.
I tell Kimura and Ito to wait here and go with the mafiosos.
As we make our way down the corridor, I try to fill the silence with something, anything.
"Umm... am I being taken to the executive's office?" I ask, though the answer is obvious.
One of the men nods in response, his face blank but respectful.
"I see... well, I was here last August..." I say, as though they don't know it. "It's been a while. I'd like to catch up on everything Dazai-san has been up to these past few months. Will that be okay?"
"Absolutely," one of the men replies with an almost mechanical precision. "Dazai-san instructed us to comply with all of your requests. Do you prefer hard copies or soft copies of his records?"
My cheeks burn a little. He's not even here yet he's already making me feel like this.
I quickly avert my gaze, pretending to focus on the marble flooring beneath my feet. "...Both. But I'm fine with the soft copies for now."
*
-Neutral POV-
"Good... evening, Dazai-san."
Dazai's pen stills mid-signature. He doesn't look up right away, letting the sound of her voice hang in the air for a moment longer. Finally, he lifts his gaze, his sharp, uncovered eye narrowing just slightly as it locks onto the figure standing in the doorway.
There she is. Her silhouette is outlined by the light from the hall, and for a moment, she hesitates, clutching her hands in front of her. Nervous.
How adorable.
A smile plays on his lips—soft at first, then curling into something more defined. "My," he says, his tone barely above a whisper, though it carries easily across the room. "You've dressed up today. Are you meeting someone special?"
She freezes, her hands tightening just slightly, but she doesn't meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes flit to the floor, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "That's... not it, okay? I just... couldn't find my suit."
He tilts his head, staring at the flustered mess amicably. She looks stunningly adorable, standing there all shy, and she's all his. For the unforeseeable future, she'll be with him, sitting right next to him. What more can he ask for at this moment?
"Won't you come in?" He asks softly, in which her cheeks redden, and she nods, stepping inside.
"I really thought I'd be getting my own office this time." She says, avoiding his gaze that follows her all the way to her desk; it's placed where it was when she left, as though Dazai never got rid of it in the first place.
Dazai leans his cheek against his hand, his smile widening ever so slightly. "What's wrong with my office, hm?"
"Well... you're a man," she replies, finally glancing at him. "Sharing a space with you is... unethical."
"I was a man last time, too. Did you not notice?"
Her dark eyes narrow, a tad annoyed. "This time it's different, okay? People are saying stuff about us lately."
"Such as~?" He asks playfully, feigning an innocent expression he knows she hates.
"Y-you know!"
"Do I?"
"Ah, never mind!" she groans, turning away with a dramatic huff. Despite her exasperation, Dazai notices the slight loosening of her shoulders, the way her movements have grown less rigid since she entered the room. She's settling in, growing more comfortable, though she likely doesn't realize it herself. Dazai grins, capping his pen before putting it in the penholder. She's full of entertainment straight from the get-go, he's not going to get any work done tonight.
She busies herself with the laptop on her desk, opening it with that slow yet careful movement he came to memorize. Dazai bought this laptop back in July for her, but couldn't tell her it was a gift as she'd never accept such an expensive gift. Now Odasaku already got her one, letting this one catch dust in his office. If this device had feelings, it would scream in joy for being of use again, Dazai thinks.
With eyes glued to the screen, she notices Dazai's stare. As she expected, his gaze hadn't left her for even a moment since she walked in. She has something to hide, so she needs to play it confidently, but under that gaze, she loses all her momentum. It's like her heart gave out, it's no longer pumping blood.
Regardless, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out a USB device.
"Un?" Dazai instantly coos, "What are you doing?"
"Catching up?" She says, glancing at him briefly before turning back to the laptop. "I wanna know what you've been up to the last few months I wasn't here."
He frowns. "Has it occurred to you that those might be personal secrets?"
"If that was the case, why'd you preapproved all my requests?"
He laughs, although unwillingly. "That's because I'm an idiot who can't say no."
She makes a face. "You? You can't say no? Do you realize how wrong it sounds?"
"Maa." He shrugs in surrender, slowly getting up. He leans forward, closing the distance between them smoothly. Resting one hand on her desk, he studies her face closely. Her expression is neutral as she plugs the USB device into the PC, getting busy on the touchpad. "Ne, Riki-chan... must you dive into work the moment you arrive?"
"What do you suggest I do then?" She doesn't look at him.
"Join me on a sightseeing tour, maybe?"
"To where? Here at the HQ?"
"Precisely."
"I've seen it all." She gives him an irritated glance, the one that's most pleasant to him. "You're just trying to slack."
"Chan-Riki, you're here for Karma, remember?"
"Yes. But I'm officially still your assistant. I have duties to fulfill here, or people might think I am here for some... nonsense!"
"This isn't getting anywhere. Good grief." Dazai sighs, smoothly shutting the PC without allowing her time to retrieve her fingers; being a speedster she still manages to rescue them in time. Dazai's hand stays on top of the lid, preventing her from reopening it. "You work for me here. Your job is to listen to me. So be very quiet, and come with me, okay?"
"...Tyrant." She whispers, standing up without a protest.
Dazai extends a hand toward her.
She stares at it, her brows furrowing slightly. "Must I hold your hand?"
"Of course." He makes a grim face. "Or else you might get lost. There have been suspicious disappearances around the HQ lately."
"Stop making shit up, God!"
*
"I've never been to the rooftop before..."
Riki whispers as the elevator ascends smoothly, her eyes glued to the complete view of Yokohama just outside the glass walls. The city spreads beneath her like an endless blanket of light, the Ferris wheel's neon light flickering like a beating heart — her most favorite scene.
Dazai stands beside her, one hand tucked lazily into the pocket as the loosely hanging trench coat shields it from view, the other wrapped firmly around hers. He's watching her, the faint smile on his lips unchanged—a smile that doesn't belong to the world outside but to her, alone.
"See? You were being pointlessly judgemental earlier. You've nearly broken my heart."
She squeezes his hand gently, a small, apologetic smile appearing on her lips. "Sorry. I didn't think you'd really be taking me somewhere special. You can be quite the liar."
Yet, you love me anyway...
Dazai thinks of saying it but keeps his mouth shut, staring at her with a small smirk.
"Oh, I've been wondering... the roofs glow at night. Like, little red dots. Are those lights?"
Dazai nods. "Aviation warning lights. They're for the helipads, particularly visible at nights, can be visible at other times too if you look closely."
"Helipads?" Her eyes widen, "Are we going to take flight with copters?"
"Hmm..." Dazai presses his lips together, pretending to consider it. "We could... if I knew how to operate one. And they're loud. Your eardrums will burst."
"Heh." She scoffs, taunting him for some reason. "Just say you'd need the boss's permission for that."
"I do not. I'm an executive. I have at least that much authority. And I'm taking you to the helipads here, passing the boss's residential floor. Because I have the authority."
"Eh." She makes a short sound, jolting her face away. "It's just one floor above yours. It's not that special considering I passed through the worst of all security before reaching your office."
Dazai feels a little sting of challenge, the kind that tempts him to prove a point. Tonight, however, is different. It will be just them up there, with the boss outside Yokohama for a secret meeting. If he gets a pilot who can operate the vehicle, he'd just ruin the once-in-a-lifetime quiet moment. Since Mori will return tomorrow, he won't be able to take her up there without piquing that middle-aged man's interest. Good grief, Dazai thinks bitterly, how nosy that man would be if he knew.
Ding!
The doors glide open with a subtle hiss, spilling a sharp gust of air into the elevator. It carries with it the metallic tang of the helipad—cold, clean, and tinged faintly with fuel. The hallway before them is dim, the walls lined with gray panels that seem to absorb sound rather than reflect it. Overhead lights, spaced evenly apart, cast faint pools of sterile white on the floor.
Dazai steps forward first, the soft click of his shoes against polished tile echoing faintly. Riki follows him almost mindlessly, with her hand in his, her steps carrying no sign of any intelligent decision-making process. Dazai noticed it before, her survival instincts drop to an absolute zero whenever he's holding her hand. Not that he minds. He likes taking care of her.
The faint hum from above grows louder now, a deep, throbbing vibration that settles in their bones. Beyond the heavy steel door at the end of the hallway, the helipad waits. Dazai's hand never leaves hers as they cross the final distance.
When he pushes open the final door, the rooftop greets them in a rush of sensation.
"Woah! It's so huge!!" She screams instantly, her hand buckling down from his as she speeds forward toward the absolute middle, where the letter H is written. She stretches her hands to the side, spinning with an elegant flur of her dress. "Imagine soaking in the rain here! That would be so much cooler!"
Dazai only scoffs in response. Maybe he will invite her one day when it rains. Mori would also need to be away... don't he?
Riki's excitement, so pure and unshakable just seconds ago, evaporates in an instant. Her joyful movements falter, her body freezes, and it feels as if the world itself holds its breath with her. The light in her dark eyes flickers out, dimming into something hollow. Like a shadow swallowed her whole.
She turns sharply, her gaze fixed far into the distance.
Then—
Zap.
Before Dazai can blink, she's gone.
In a blur of impossible speed, Riki reappears—colliding with him. Their bodies crash together, the impact jarring the air from his lungs. The force leaves him helpless, balance ripped from under him as they careen backward. The wind howls, shrieking against his ears, and the low railing that lines the roof rushes up far too quickly.
He sees the edge. They're going to tumble—
But they don't.
Riki stops them an inch before the brink, her arms locked around him, trembling but unyielding. The world jolts to a halt.
Dazai exhales sharply, blinking, as if trying to reboot his senses. His heart pounds violently in his chest. He looks back, the yawning abyss of the city stretching below them, the faint red glow of the lights pulsing like some sinister heartbeat.
He tries to process it. The speed. The danger. The unreal control she just displayed. His grip on her tightens instinctively, grounding himself.
"You scared me..." he mutters, voice hoarse and uneven. His arms wrap around her, whether to calm her or steady himself, he isn't sure. "I thought we were going to die a... double suicide. Odasaku would've called me forth from hell just to kill me again."
"I..." Her voice cracks against his chest, muffled but trembling. Her face is buried so deeply into him that he swears one of his ribs snapped. Is this the same girl who acts so powerless before him? "I will do it for you—Instead of you—So... So if you're hearing me—If you can hear me—Please don't abandon me—It's hard—It's hard—A world—I can't do it again—For me—Please—Stay."
Her words break and stumble like glass shattering, desperate and fragmented, tumbling from her lips as if she's clinging to them like lifelines.
Dazai's brows furrow, confusion flashing through his mind.
She's not talking to him.
The air feels heavier, thick with something unseen. Someone unseen. Something or someone Dazai himself can't perceive. But she feels it. She's talking to it. Begging it. And for all the brilliance of his mind, Dazai is utterly powerless to reach that place where her fear lives.
He doesn't know what to say. So he does what he can—patting her head gently, letting the weight of his touch carry what words cannot.
Her head lifts slowly, her tear-streaked face coming into view. The glint of tears, raw and real, cuts through him like a blade.
It was a mistake bringing her up here.
Or...
It's the perfect place for her to confront it—for her to learn to control Karma.
The thought twists in him, an unsettling paradox. His jaw tightens as if the idea itself offends him, but it lingers, stubborn and unyielding. Goodness. To want to take advantage of this situation when she's so vulnerable...
Does he hate her? Or love her?
*
-Next Day-
-Riki's POV-
"Riki-chan... are you napping?"
"No..." I grumble, my words muffled against the desk. I crack one eye open, unwilling to lift my head. "I'm perfectly awake."
"Sure you are," Yumi seems dubious. She leans over, trying to catch my gaze. "Did you pull an all-nighter? Finals are around the corner, but come on, you're an ability user. Just pass and watch the job offers roll in."
"I didn't," I grumble, giving her a half-dead glare. "And it's not finals stress. I rammed into my crush at full speed yesterday. He had to X-ray his chest. The doctor prescribed him painkillers."
"WHAT?!"
"Shh! Keep it down!" I hiss, waving my arms frantically. "I already want to crawl into a hole. Don't make it worse."
She stares at me, wide-eyed, before leaning closer. "Wait, wait, wait. Did you... break him?"
"No. Nothing broken. I'd have killed myself if anything were broken."
She blinks a few times, trying to process what I just said. Her eyes scan the clock hanging atop the board, calculating the time left before the homeroom teacher arrives. There's about seven minutes left.
"So..." she starts, dragging out the word. "When are you going to tell me about this crush of yours? Does he go to our school?"
"He... does not. He's a young prodigy with too great a mind. He's already finished studying and has a job currently. Despite being... nearly seventeen."
"That's impressive..." She presses her lips together, pondering something while nodding her head. "Let me guess, an ability user?"
"Yep. Has the rarest one yet. Don't ask for details regarding his ability, he prefers to keep a low profile."
"I see. What does he do?"
I glance around to make sure no one's eavesdropping, then point toward the window. The five buildings of the Mori Corporation dominate the skyline. My finger zeroes in on the central tower, the one with a distinct square head. "He's the lead strategist and an executive there."
"Huh? Are you making this up?!"
"I wish. He's— the sun. I'm a sunflower bloomed near a trash can."
"I so wanna meet him now..."
I look at her, sharpening my eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing." I look away. "The thing is... He's super strong himself. Not physically. Intellectually. He's also super agile and all that. Until this point I've considered him something so great... and I hold him so high up- like, you'd not believe. I never thought I was gonna cause him actual pain. Like, literal physical pain. It's crazy."
"Did he get mad at you?"
"No..."
Riki-chan, I've been shot dozens of times—this? It's nothing! I don't need a doctor! Ah, stop dragging me! Do you know how long it'll take to explain this to Mori-san?! I'll get mad! Seriously! I'll really get angry! Please! I beg of you!
"He's a pro. His expression didn't even change. He's super good at masking. God dammit. That bastard is great at everything! And I-" I shoot up from the desk, looking at Yumi with eyes full of complaint, "And I'm such an idiot! I knew the helipads- I knew that's the fucking place with the core of my heart- and boy- I just walked in with him! I didn't even think! It all just suddenly hit me and I saw him standing near the edge. I thought- I thought- God. Good God! I—"
"Whoa whoa wait a sec!" Yumi yells, interrupting me. "Helipads? Like for helicopters? Up on the roof of Mori Corporation? You went up there!"
"Yeah! Like an idiot!"
"Man, are you living the dream or what?!"
"...It's a nightmare, yumi-chan!"
"As if!" she shoots back. "You've got this amazing guy, family connections, and access to the rooftop of the Mori Corporation! My dad, a prestigious journalist, can't even get past their gates!"
I groan louder, burying my face in my hands. "It's not as great as it sounds."
"Goodness, Riki-chan, I don't think I can ever wrap my head around your problems. This is too much." She stands up, shaking her head. Grabbing a sheet of paper from her desk, she gives it to me. "There are seven ability users with an M initial in our school. I think it's this guy."
She points to the third name: Miyamoto Ken. Ability: X-ray vision.
I freeze. My stomach drops. "...So he's seen me naked then?"
"Relax." Yumi waves me off again. "He's required to wear special anti-ability glasses to stop him from overusing it. Too much exposure will blind him and mess up his brain. Besides, he probably just saw your bones."
"Oh, sure. Just my skeleton..."
Yumi snickers. "Want me to dig up proof of stalking? Bones or what, he should be locked up for such crimes."
"No!" I yelp. "No, I'll handle it. It's fine..."
But deep down, I'm screaming.
*
-Neutral POV-
Last night didn't go as planned, and Dazai will forever be mad about it. Mori was away, but he had the whole rooftop and whatever underneath it completely and absolutely free. He could've gotten her to turn on Karma and spend an hour there, just to try and test her endurance limit. And with the way she reacted, it is proven that that place is the one where she will learn the best—as much of a lucky coincidence as it was. But she just had to...
Frankly, Dazai should be mad at her. He's a busy man, but he still made time for her. She should've swallowed her petty concern and taken advantage of that situation. Now, Mori is returning tonight. He can't take her up in there and have her turn it on without giving Mori an emotional rollercoaster. Good grief, what a pain.
And yet, here he is, not mad at her. He's... actually sad? Yeah, he's just as confused here. She bumped into him, she hurt him even though it wasn't very painful, and he feels like apologizing. It's like he made a huge mistake in a different universe or something, and it hurt her deeply, so he should get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness... or whatever the crude guilt eating away at his heart is.
Comforting women when they cry isn't exactly Dazai's area of expertise. More often than not, his go-to move is packing his bag and walking out. But with her, up until now, he'd been surprisingly decent. Whatever nonsense came out of his mouth worked like magic. Her mood would shift almost instantly, like she believed his every word was divine truth. Crazy, but effective.
Then last night happened. She gave him this raw, overwhelming emotion, one that almost drove her—and him—off the highest skyscraper in the city, and he just... blanked. Completely.
And she wants him, of all people, as her ability coach? For an ability that pulls emotions this intense?
He's useless.
All he can do now is groan, sprawled out on the floor like a miserable child. A low, broken sound rumbles from his throat, the kind of noise that would make anyone question his sanity. He's mid-roll when his phone buzzes. A call.
Dazai contemplates life for a moment, then drags himself upright. His tone shifts instantly when he answers, cold and quiet:
"It's me."
A measured but tense voice comes through the receiver. "Dazai-san, there's been a breach. The military police intercepted our delivery during a transfer point. One of our couriers was taken in, and the cargo's in their possession now."
"What cargo?"
"The blueprints," the man answers grimly. "Full schematics."
Dazai leans back against the wall, his eyes narrowing. "I see. Any sign they've connected it to us?"
"Not yet. We've started covering the trails."
"Good," Dazai replies flatly. "Continue covering our tracks and go to ground. I'll handle the rest."
The line clicks dead, and Dazai dials again without hesitation. This time, the call is picked up almost immediately.
"Dazai-dono," Hirotsu greets with respect, but the usual caution is evident in his tone.
"Hirotsu-san," Dazai says smoothly, almost politely. "One of ours was apprehended during a shipment interception. The military police have the cargo, and the man is in custody."
A pause. "What are your orders?"
"Take care of him. Make sure it doesn't become an issue."
"Understood."
The call ends, and Dazai flips the phone shut with a flick of his wrist. For a moment, he stares at it, his expression unreadable. The military police's involvement complicates things, but Hirotsu is reliable. The task will be handled cleanly.
Ah, how troublesome. Here he was planning to visit her once her school was over.
*
-Riki's POV-
Miyamoto Ken, a second-year student, soon-to-be a senior. He has spiky dark hair, almost like Fushiguro Megumi, but underwhelmingly shorter. His eyes are dark, hidden beneath round glasses that scream it's 'special': with an anti-ability material frame and lenses that certainly look like they were tampered with. If you ask me, it really doesn't go with his looks.
Ken's an enigma in all the wrong ways. Sure, he's a year ahead of Dazai, but that's where the competition ends. He doesn't stand a chance against Dazai—not in height, not in looks, and certainly not in that mysterious charm Dazai exudes just by existing. Ken might be healthier, he might win against Dazai in an arm wrestling match, but let's be real here. Dazai has his ways of taking down an enemy when the need arises, Ken doesn't stand a chance. Especially not when it comes to a space in my heart.
In other words, he's not worth my time.
Still, I waste my entire lunchtime writing him a letter.
Dear Miyamoto-san,
Hope you are doing well. I'm fine, though, you already know that, as you've been stalking me with such interest. I'm glad that you found me interesting, and it is flattering to think you admire me. But I already have someone in mind that I'm devoted to, I cannot do justice to your feelings. I trust you'll understand it. Whatever secret you've discovered about me, please keep it to yourself. Otherwise, I'll be forced to show the school authority you've used your ability within school grounds.
Of course, I have proof. ;)
- A. R
I don't have proof. I'm sure if I go around and check the security footage I'll have certain instances where Ken took off his special glasses, but doing that would certainly notify Dazai. I don't exactly know how he'd get notified, but I ain't risking it.
I fold the note neatly and place it on top of Yumi's table when classes end. "Yumi-chan, can you put it inside M's locker for me?"
She reads the note thoroughly, then looks at me with furrowed brows, "Why not just talk to him directly?"
"Ahh... what if he just takes off his glasses?" I wince my face, "Like, ew."
"That's fair..." She presses her lips together, bothered. "But... is mentioning your 'guy' really a good idea? What if he's the 'if-I-can't-have-you-no-one-else-can' type? That could put you in danger."
"Danger?" I smirk condescendingly, sort of like how Dazai would. "Yumi-chan, I'm the strongest ability user in this school. I'm not in danger. I am the danger."
"Then why are you sneaking around like this?" she counters, crossing her arms. "Who are you so scared of that you can't just handle this yourself?"
I pause, hesitating before muttering, "...The guy who put guards on me?"
"Your older brother?"
"...Yup! That guy." I nod instantly. It's rather a protective sibling than a gruesome mafia executive who I don't even have a 'defined' relationship with yet. "He's very overprotective. He might homeschool me if he finds out I'm being harassed."
Yumi looks at me with her brows crooked, unimpressed. Then she mutters, "...Just be careful, okay?"
"I will. You too. If he jumps on you, just call me. I'll immediately run to you and punch him in the face."
"You better!"
With that, I leave Yumi with the note and exit school. Although I laughed it off in front of her, it soon starts to dawn on me.
Hiroto was that obsessive type.
Dazai is definitely that obsessive type.
What if Ken is, too?
What if he gets mad that I'm using Yumi to do all the work he wanted me to do? What if he decides to get revenge by targeting Yumi instead of me?
Mmh, well, I'll deal with it if it happens. No point in losing sleep over hypotheticals. Right now, I have bigger things to worry about.
Sliding into the backseat of my car, I lean back and glance at Ito in the driver's seat. "Home, as fast as you can, please. I need a nap before work tonight."
"Understood, Riki-san." He shifts the car into gear, and we pull away.
I fish my phone out of my bag, silenced and dark from the day's classes. Just as I unlock the screen, the device buzzes violently in my hand. The suddenness makes me flinch, my heart skipping a beat.
Perfect timing, huh?
The caller ID reads: Dazai-san.
I look up at Kimura, sitting in the passenger seat. "Kimura-san, did you tell Dazai-san I got in the car?"
He nods, his face neutral as always. "I texted him, as per his orders."
"Right, no wonder." I exhale a sharp, nervous sigh, then steady my voice before answering. "Hello, Dazai-san?"
"Ah, Riki-chan! I'm so glad you picked up!" His voice is bright, almost sing-song, and despite myself, I don't find it annoying. If anything, I kind of like the way it sounds. "How was school?"
I roll my eyes but indulge him. "Stressful. Aside from that, I guess it was alright. What about you? Are you feeling okay today? Have you eaten?"
"Oh, to have such a caring lady fuss over me—truly, I'm the luckiest guy alive~!"
"I asked a simple question, asshole. Does your chest hurt?"
"Hmm, of course it does."
I blink, my grip on the phone tightening. "...Really?"
"To be so far apart from you—"
"Seriously?!" I scream, earning a glance from both Ito and Kimura. I lower my voice, trying to keep my cool. "Why did you even call if you're just going to mess with me?"
"Ah, Riki-chan, you wound me! No fun at all, are you?" I can practically picture him feigning that stupid frown, "I called because something came up today."
"Oh, you're canceling? Perfect! I was thinking of catching up on—"
"Who said I was canceling?" He interrupts mischievously, shutting me up. "Actually, I'll need you two hours earlier tonight. Make sure you follow the dress code. While I'd love to see you looking all adorable, I'd rather not have you ambushed because you stood out."
"Wait, wait, wait—field trip?!"
He chuckles again, a low, knowing sound. "Hmm, you could call it that. Don't be late, okay?"
"Fine, fine," I mutter, pretending to be annoyed. "See you."
The call ends, and I lower the phone, a grin breaking across my face. Holding up two fingers in excitement, I announce, "He needs me two hours earlier today! Can you believe it?! I get to see him in action again!"
Ito glances at me in the rearview mirror, offering a polite, if awkward, laugh. "Ahaha... good for you, Riki-san."
"I know, right? I can't wait!" I clap, like the idiotic fangirl I am.
*
"The police meddled in you guys' business?" I whisper, holding the tablet Dazai handed me the moment I arrived. We're inside a black sedan, its interior dimly lit by the faint glow of the screen. The engine's hum fills the silence as we pull out from the HQ parking lot. Outside, the city is bathed in the faint blue hues of twilight. "I thought they were scared of you?"
"Not the police," Dazai corrects; he's quietly staring outside at the cityscape, "Military police."
"There's a difference?"
"Oh, there's a big difference, Riki-chan." He looks at me, showing me a little smirk, "The police are flies—annoying, buzzing around, but easy to swat away when needed."
I raise my brows, "And the military police?"
"They're more like wasps," he says, tapping a finger idly on the armrest. "Bigger, nastier, and a lot more persistent. When they sting, it leaves a mark."
"Sounds fun," I say flatly, looking back at the screen. The incident that occurred earlier today is written here with details, but it says little to nothing about the cargo taken into custody. "I actually got stung by a dead wasp once. It was lying on the ground and I stepped on it... that hurt for days. Are you guys the same as me?"
"...We don't typically partake in stepping on them. Especially when they're dead."
I shoot him an annoyed glance. "What I meant was can they sting you? Like bad enough to hurt for days?"
"Mm, they can," he admits, nodding. "Until we secure the special gifted permit, at least."
The mention of the permit shocks me. I stare at him, unable to utter anything in response.
"What?" He asks, tilting his head.
"Nothing... was just thinking about the permit."
Dazai leans in, far too close, his breath brushing against my cheek. "Do we get it in the future?"
"Ah, shoo!" I shove him back by the face, glaring. "I'm not a fortune teller, alright? Focus on what's happening now. So, the handover was taking place, and the military police just showed up? Why didn't you guys pick a safer spot where they couldn't butt in?"
Dazai makes a face, his tone souring. "It was safe. The port's a routine drop zone—off the radar, full of cargo containers, and practically a maze. We've used it a dozen times without issues... until today."
"So, something went wrong?"
"Terribly," he sighs, the faint glow of the tablet reflecting off his face. "That's why we're headed there. Those schematics were worth hundreds of millions, you know?"
"What kind of schematics?"
"Advanced military-grade schematics," he says with unsettling nonchalance, kind of creeping me out. "High-capacity explosives, armor-piercing rounds, and detailed plans for chemical dispersal units. It's not about abilities—just raw, unfiltered destruction. Enough to flatten a port, maybe even a city block. Oh, and some chemical weapons, too. All black market classified. We paid a high price for those."
"Thank God the police took them. Are you guys trying to destroy the world?!"
"Oh, come on," he drawls, dismissive. "You think the police will do anything better? They'll tweak those plans, mass-produce the weapons, and point them at someone else. At least we were making a profit."
I stare at him, words failing me as I shake my head in exasperation. "You guys are evil."
"We're the mafia," he replies with a shrug, as if that explains everything.
"So like... is there any plan retrieving the schematics?"
"It's Mori-san's call, really. Right now, my job is to find out where it all went wrong."
*
Our car rolls to a halt at the edge of Yokohama Port, the headlights briefly illuminating the endless rows of towering shipping containers painted in dull reds, blues, and greens. I had expected we'd head straight to the mafia-controlled section of the docks, the place where I brought in the Hoshiki Ship back in August. But instead, we stop here—an ordinary, bustling area brimming with activity. It kind of makes sense; no way the military police could raid anything in the mafia's inner sanctum.
Dazai exits the car first, his movement so gracefully magnificent that I stare at it like an idiot for a second too long. His movements are always so annoyingly elegant, as though every step he takes is part of some grand performance. Snapping out of it, I quickly open my own door and step out into the chilly February night. The cold bites at my face and neck, making me shiver. I button my suit jacket with one hand while casting a glance at Dazai, silently trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do.
He stands there, hands tucked casually into his pants pockets, his posture relaxed as if he's enjoying a pleasant evening stroll. The faint glow of the car's headlights paints a halo around him, his bandaged face calm and unbothered, like a tourist admiring the view.
Dazai turns his head slightly, flashing me a quiet, enigmatic smile before motioning with a tilt of his head toward our left. I follow his gaze and spot a group of military police officers. Their uniforms are much cooler than the normal police's, with rifles slung across their torsos, the kind I never saw mafiosos carrying. Behind them, yellow tape stretches taut, fluttering faintly in the night breeze.
CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS.
"They seem rather comfy..." I whisper, stepping closer to Dazai. Everything beyond the yellow tape is as still and calm: open shipping containers with dark stains seeping into the soil beneath them, their metal walls are damaged with bullet holes, and the unpleasant smell of spent gunpowder hanging faintly in the cold air. On the other hand, the rest of the port is full of chaos. Workers are unloading cargo in the far distance, forklifts beeping, and cranes groaning — reminds me of the Hoshiki mission. God, that was frustratingly exciting.
"What now?" I ask, my voice low.
Dazai doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he watches the scene with the same unbothered expression one might have when deciding between two brands of tea.
"Let's go pay them a visit," he says at last, stepping forward.
"Wait!" I pinch his jacket's sleeve with my thumb and index, holding him back. "There's police there!"
"And?" He tilts his head, as though the word itself confuses him.
"You're a criminal!" I remind him with a low hiss, tightening my grip.
"Oh, that?" He raises his free hand, absently brushing at his hair at the back of his head. "They aren't quite equipped with enough resources to capture me. It will just be a futile and dangerous attempt."
His confidence, as well as his complete lack of concern, annoys the hell out of me. I can't help but think about that one panel in chapter 70— a moment where this smug bastard is shown in handcuffs, radiating pure annoyance. I know once or twice this asshole will get himself arrested, it's inevitable, really, but I'd rather not let today be that day. I already have enough problems to worry about.
(A/n: Dazai in a bad mood is so hot...*sighs*)
"What if they still somehow do?" I challenge, my nails digging into the fabric of his coat. "Then what will you do?"
"Then... hm, I'll just escape?" His tone is light, almost teasing, as if the very notion of being caught is laughable.
"You think the world is so easy, don't you?"
"It is." He smiles, gently freeing his sleeve from my grip. "Shall we?"
"Whatever," I mutter, turning my face away to hide my annoyance.
Dazai approaches the cordoned-off area so casually you'd think he's wandering into a park, his hands still in his pockets. I follow nervously, my steps hesitant. The officers stand still, their faces expressionless as they scan the surroundings like robots. A few other curious people are flocking near the yellow tape, curiously gaping inside as though there's a stage play going on.
Inside the crime scene, two officers are standing next to each other, chatting about something lazily. One of them has a rifle, and the other is holding a notepad.
I turn transparent, bolting toward the chatting officers, hoping to get some info out of them. If I don't do something reckless, Dazai might, and that sounds quite unnecessary when he has me as his assistant. I mean, nobody can even see me, even if they do, I don't have a criminal record unlike Dazai here who's one misstep away from being executed for his laundry list of crimes.
"...Had automatic rifles," the officer with the gun says, his voice raspy as I draw close enough to hear. "This has to be the mafia's work."
"It is the mafia," the notepad-wielding officer replies curtly, his pen scratching across the page with a deliberate rhythm. "They sent an assassin to silence the guy we arrested while he was in custody. Nobody else operates with that level of brutality."
I freeze, my thoughts spiraling.
Arrested guy? Assassin?
The worst possibility immediately pops into my mind.
Is the assassin Gin? She just turned thirteen!
I stand on my toes, craning my neck to peek at the notepad. The messy scrawl is barely legible, a cryptic blur of shorthand and jargon that I can't make sense of.
"The mafia's a funny bunch," the officer with the gun continues. "A massive organization, but they don't give a damn about their own. They've got no honor, unlike your typical Yakuza. It's no surprise they've got rats lining up to spill secrets."
Rats? I blink.
So somebody snitched, huh...
"That's how they survive," the notepad officer says, his tone laced with bitter amusement. "Cutting off their own tail to save the body. Mark my words: this snitch will be stitched within two days. After that, we'll hit a dead end—same as always. Nobody's ever managed to make a solid case against the Port Mafia. Those guys know how to cover their tracks."
Tell me about it.
I take a slow, silent U-turn and head back to Dazai. He's exactly where I left him, standing with both hands tucked casually into his pant pockets, his gaze scanning the scene like he's taking in a work of art. When I step back to his side, he senses me without turning, his body already pivoting as he starts walking away.
I fall in step beside him, waiting until we're safely out of earshot before turning visible.
"De~?" Dazai glances at me with mild curiosity. "Anything interesting to report?"
"Not really. They're saying somebody snitched, but that is a given considering the location and delivery point were classified info." I say, giving him a little shrug. "They're pretty convinced it's you guys because of the—"
"—Assault rifles," Dazai finishes with a faint, knowing smirk. "We do have a reputation for those, don't we? The bullet holes in the containers confirm it—our men fought like heroes."
"Oh—" I start, but a deep voice cuts through the air, stopping me mid-thought.
"Dazai-dono."
I turn instantly, startled by the call. Standing a few steps away is a man in his 50s, his presence quiet and elegant. His gray hair is swept back neatly, his mustache and sharp beard perfectly groomed, and his violet eyes gleaming with intellect and experience. A fascinating monocle sits over his right eye using I don't know what support, its golden chain catching the faint light. With a hand pressed lightly to his chest, he bows just enough to show respect without losing an ounce of his dignified air.
"Ah, Hirotsu-san." Dazai's face lights up with a rare, genuine warmth as he raises a hand in greeting. "Good work today."
The dots connect almost as soon as Dazai speaks. An arrested mafioso, assassinated before he could talk. Hirotsu—head of the Black Lizard, the mafia's elite enforcer squad. He will be working under Higuchi in the future, who answers to Akutagawa, who, if not for Dazai's departure from the mafia, would still be under his direct command.
In other words, Hirotsu is part of Dazai's offensive network, tasked with handling the mafia's "unsavory" business. And if he's here now, it's practically a guarantee: the assassination was authorized and ordered by Dazai himself.
Why the fuck would he do that?
It makes no sense. Turning his back on one of their own—a mafioso who worked himself to the bone for this damn organization. What did he do to deserve a death sentence? If anything, the snitch is the one who should be killed!
"...So, you really had the arrested mafioso killed?" I ask Dazai, my voice slipping into a tone sharper than I intended. The frustration bleeds through, enough that even Hirotsu—meeting me for the first time—seems to pick up on it. "Why'd you do that? If one of your own is in a pinch, you're supposed to save them, not cut them off like that! Does the life of one of your colleagues mean so little to you?!"
Dazai doesn't even flinch. Instead, he turns to Hirotsu with a bright, almost obnoxiously cheerful smile. "I'm sure you've heard of her by now, but this is Akutagawa Riki," he says as if I'd just complimented him for being a saint. "Quite the delight, isn't she?"
Hirotsu lowers his head in greeting, and I, confused as fuck, do the same.
"Nice to meet you, Riki-san." He greets, the calm of his tone remains static despite my angry accusation, "It's a pleasure to be finally meeting the eldest Akutagawa."
"Ah- ha... well, nice to meet you too, Hirotsu-san..." I say, unsure of what to do or say. Should I bow again? "I've heard of you from Gin-chan. Thank you for looking after her..."
"Of course." Dazai responds instead of Hirotsu, "Hirotsu-san is an impeccable leader—"
"You assh-" I almost curse, but brace myself in front of Hirotsu, "I asked you a question, Dazai-san!"
"Ma ma," he says with exaggerated nonchalance, waving a hand dismissively. "Something had to be done, now didn't it, Riki-chan? If he had talked, we'd be in a real pinch right about now."
"If you could assassinate that guy while he was arrested couldn't you have simply broken him out?"
"Now why would I do that?" Dazai tilts his head, his voice almost mocking. "He failed to protect the cargo he was supposed to guard with his life. Either way, it's good riddance."
"Seriously?!" I blink, the words catching in my throat. My mind flashes to Odasaku, who will be sacrificed by Mori for the greater good, and how Dazai will detest him for it. Yet, standing here, he's no different. The same ruthless logic, the same cold detachment. The difference is that the person he sacrificed isn't his friend.
So what if it's a random mafioso I don't even know the name of? He might've been someone's brother, someone's father... someone's friend.
You shitty bastard.
But I don't say it. Not in front of Hirotsu, who clearly holds Dazai in the highest regard. Instead, I press my lips together, and walk away toward the sea, hoping the cool air will calm me down.
-Neutral POV-
Hirotsu's eyes follow the retreating figure of the angry young woman, her steps carrying proof of her anger and frustration. To challenge an executive over a matter of principle... it speaks to a boldness few would dare to display.
Then he glances at the young executive beside him. Dazai is silent, staring at her path with an expression Hirotsu can't quite read. If the rumors are true, Dazai Osamu is deeply fond of the eldest Akutagawa. Whispers of his brutal retaliation against those who dare insult her have reached even the most cautious corners of the mafia. When it comes to her, the executive seems to go above and beyond.
"Umm," Dazai lets out a soft, joyless whine, scratching his brow with his index finger. "I should have expected saying that would set her off..."
The senior mafioso instinctively straightens his spine; a reaction born not of respect but of caution. Dazai Osamu, for all his apparent charm, demands admiration and fear, often in equal measure. Hirotsu has worked with many commanders over his years in the Port Mafia, but none unsettled him quite like Dazai, whose demeanor was as unpredictable as a storm at sea.
Hirotsu has heard a lot about Akutagawa Riki over the past few months, more so when Akutagawa Gin came under his wing. Riki's closeness to the young executive has sparked rumors that Gin was accepted into the mafia as one of the many favors Dazai granted her sister. Ryunosuke would have faced the same accusations if not for his lethal ability and infamous temper.
Yet Riki herself is unlike her siblings. Her exceptional speed and combat skills allow her to go toe-to-toe with Nakahara Chuuya. She received training from Oda Sakunosuke who she addresses as 'Nii-san' even though she has no blood relations with him. Despite her humble origins as a slum girl who only recently began formal education, she carries herself with an air of sophistication. Some even claim that Dazai respects her opinions—a rarity that has become a sore point for Ryunosuke.
Hirotsu can't deny there's something exceptional about her that makes him wonder if she truly is an Akutagwa or is just pretending to be one.
"Riki-chan might seem out of place in her family," Dazai says as if reading Hirotsu's thoughts, his eyes still following her silhouette, "but isn't it the Akutagawas' nature to speak passionately about what they believe is right?"
Startled, Hirotsu stiffens. "Ah... yes, that's true."
"Riki-chan has experienced hardships her younger siblings could never understand. She is profoundly influenced by Odasaku, one of the most unyielding individuals I've ever known when it comes to his principles. He refuses to take a life, no matter the circumstances. If he were here, he would have reacted exactly as she did regardless of my rank in the mafia. You mustn't judge her based on her siblings, Hirotsu-san. Unlike them, she holds human life in the highest regard. To her, every soul — no matter how damaged — is worth saving. If she were in my position, she would have risked everything to rescue that man without a second thought."
Hirotsu folds his hands behind his back, choosing his words carefully. "But your decision was rational. Saving him would have required killing officers, creating a disturbance too large for us to contain."
"Perhaps you're right." Dazai shrugs, his tone nonchalant. "But for her, rationality doesn't diminish the value of a life. Especially one she deems... innocent."
Hirotsu nods, though unease prickles at the edges of his thoughts. Dazai speaks of her with a peculiar kind of affection, a subtle change in tone that he might have missed if he wasn't familiar with the young executive's many nuances.
Before Hirotsu can respond, Dazai steps forward, heading toward the shoreline where Riki now stands, her shoulders rigid with anger. He watches as Dazai approaches her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs it off immediately, her frustration evident in the intense motion.
Hirotsu quietly observes the exchange— Riki's voice rising, her frustration spilling over into sharp words he can't quite make out of. Dazai listens to her quietly, almost in an unnervingly calm manner. It seems he's experienced; this isn't the first time the girl got angry and subjected him to her outbursts.
When Riki finishes her tirade, Dazai leans in, speaking softly in a tone too low for him to catch. There are some instances where Riki interrupts him, but even from here, Hirotsu can feel the fire in her eyes cooling down. Then, unexpectedly, he reaches for her cheek, attempting to connect his fingertips to her skin.
She slaps his hand away.
Hirotsu tenses, expecting the young executive to show some hint of irritation, but Dazai merely smiles—soft, unwavering, patient. He says something else, his words lingering in the air between them. A question, it seems.
And then, as if the ocean itself has paused to bear witness, Riki moves forward and wraps her arms around him. Hirotsu blinks, unsure if his eyes are deceiving him. But no—there she is, embracing the man she'd just been furious with. And Dazai, ever unflappable, rests his chin lightly on her head, his expression unreadable save for a trace of quiet contentment.
The sight roots Hirotsu in place. He feels as though he's intruding upon something far more intimate than he has any right to witness. He exhales and averts his gaze, giving them what little privacy the moment allows.
The rumors are true. Dazai Osamu is in love.
-Riki's POV-
"Are you mad at me, or at the decision I made as an executive of the Port Mafia?"
When a question such as this is thrown at you, what do you do?
The port mafioso who lost his life today was unfortunate. No matter how much I cry or even rip Dazai apart, it won't bring him back. I'll have to make peace with that. The sooner, the better—especially now that I'm working with Dazai on this very grave, very urgent matter.
Sure, there's no one left to testify against the mafia, and Dazai's men have covered their tracks well enough to keep the police from tracing them. But the snitch is still out there, a loose end we can't afford to ignore. Dazai will need to present solid progress to Mori by tomorrow morning, and for that, the entire squad will be working their hardest. Including me.
I remind myself to behave, to stay in line. Not just for the sake of the mission, but because Dazai gets... distracted when I don't. The way he abandoned Hirotsu earlier to tend to my stupid feelings says it all.
When we return to Hirotsu, my wrist securely trapped in Dazai's grasp, he appears momentarily at a loss. Dazai brushes it off and instructs Hirotsu to lead the way. The older man nods politely and begins walking ahead.
I try to pull my hand free, testing Dazai's grip, but it only tightens.
Oh, so this is how we're playing now?
He didn't like me walking away from him earlier—that much is clear. One day, I'll have to confront him about his ridiculous attitude. Walking away from a heated conversation is healthy. Does he not realize I say the most hurtful, unfiltered things when I'm mad? Or is he some kind of masochist who secretly enjoys it?
Hirotsu leads us into the mafia-controlled section of the port. A few other mafiosos, likely Hirotsu's subordinates, follow behind. Their footsteps echo faintly against the cold stone pavement.
I motion toward Dazai with a flick of my finger, and he obliges by lowering his head slightly, tilting an ear toward me.
"Where are we going?" I whisper.
"To investigate, of course," he replies softly, his tone deceptively casual. "We've got a few guests to talk to."
"You mean interrogate?"
"Something like that. It's the perfect opportunity for you to use that, don't you think?"
"And how exactly am I supposed to use it when you're clinging to me like this?"
"Hm, I'll let go when you need to use it."
"This is very controlling. You do realize that, right?"
"Oh, it's absolutely controlling," he replies without missing a beat. "It's nighttime, Riki-chan. The police are lurking. Other bad people, too. Even some of the mafiosos here might think you're an easy target."
"I'm not, though," I snap, narrowing my eyes. "I'm strong. I could free my hand and pin you to the ground in less than a second."
"Certainly," he says with a light chuckle. "You already demonstrated that yesterday."
I blink, suddenly remembering. "I said I was sorry, didn't I? I didn't mean to hurt you—"
"Here's the thing, Riki-chan," he interrupts, his tone turning smoother. "It's not about strength or weakness. It's about my pride. I can't allow anything unpleasant to happen to you while you're with me."
"That sounds like a you problem."
"Yes, it is. Which is why I have a 'me' solution." He holds up our joined hands for emphasis, his grin sharp. "Do you hate being held by me that much?"
"That's not the point, and you know it! Officially, I'm your assistant. This isn't appropriate, especially with Hirotsu-san right here! He's like, sixty!"
"Forty-six, actually."
"Ain't no way!" I yell, my voice echoing around us. "He looks one step away from the grave!"
Dazai's laughter is low, amused. "He can hear you when you shout like that, you know that, right?"
I freeze, mortified, as Hirotsu visibly stiffens but keeps walking without a word.
Of course, he can.
I'm such an idiot.
*
Despite being attacked by my unintended words, Hirotsu brings us to a quiet corner. It is hidden away behind defective vessels and unused containers, giving you the feel of a ghostly area altogether. I walk a little closer to Dazai, which he notices and gives me a closed-eyed smile.
Inside the area, there's one particular container that attracts my attention. It was probably red once, but now the paint is eaten away by years of salty air and relentless rain, leaving it discolored and streaked with rust. Its steel door hangs slightly ajar, guarded by two mafiosos gripping rifles.
They were expecting us, but even still, seeing Dazai changes something in them. They quickly straighten, their postures sharpening as they step aside to allow us through. Hirotsu and his men don't follow us inside.
Dazai pushes open the door with his free hand, entering the container first, then tugging me inside as I was surveying the outside cautiously. The suffocating air inside the container instantly attacks my face, making me twitch my nose a little. A dim yellow bulb swings lazily from the ceiling, creating flickering shadows across the crooked metal walls. In this light, I notice the four figures lurking. Two sitting, and two standing.
The seated men are bound to rusted metal chairs, their wrists and ankles lashed tightly with thick ropes. The older man, probably in his thirties, has dark hair and a thick mustache. The younger one, slender with a faintly reddish tint to his hair, reminds me of Tanizaki—fragile and utterly out of place in this grim scene.
Behind them, two mafiosos stand like statues. They are suited up, dark sunglasses hiding their eyes, and hands clutching the same old assault rifles. Their position just out of the prisoners' view is deliberate, designed to scare them, to remind them that even when they can't see danger, it's right there, breathing down their necks.
The scene twists something in my chest. It's too familiar.
For a moment, I'm back there—trapped in Midnight's grips, bound to a chair, helpless. The fear of the unknown is unlike any other. It eats at you, gnaws away at your sanity, and makes every second feel like an eternity. And if we take in the darkness, the guns, and this suffocating container, I'd say these guys are in their personal hells right now.
I silently thank God that Dazai was not my captor.
The two men are unharmed—at least physically. But the hours spent here, surrounded by suffocating silence and unrelenting stillness, have left their mark. The mafiosos' intentional refusal to speak, combined with the unknown lurking outside the container, has carved raw terror onto their faces.
Our entry only amplifies their fear. Their wide, frantic eyes glance at Dazai, taking in his dark hair and the bandages wrapped around the majority of his face. They recognize him instantly, and utter panic runs through their bodies.
They begin to squirm in their seats, their movements desperate and shaky. The ropes dig deeper into their wrists and ankles, pulling tight against their flesh with every futile struggle. The faint creak of the strained bindings fills the air, a sound almost drowned out by their ragged breathing.
It's not the guns or the setting that has them on edge now — it's him.
"Are these the delivery men?" I ask, trying to measure the situation.
"Precisely," Dazai replies, giving me a small nod. His tone is light, almost disinterested. You know, the kind he will have before punching the shit out of my precious little brother. Scary as fuck. "They're the ones who brought the cargo."
I think back to the report I read earlier. The cargo had been entrusted to a reputable delivery company, one with a polished track record—so unlike the ragtag operations I used to work with Odasaku. Their company is stable, punctual, and even pays well, but financial security doesn't guarantee safety.
I glance at the two men again, their fear practically radiating off them. I imagine their lives are just as fraught as ours were. Constant danger, endless pressure, and an unspoken rule: don't mess with the Port Mafia. Once they mark you, you're as good as dead. I wouldn't be surprised if Dazai orders their death here and now.
Though... he probably won't do it in front of me.
"We didn't spill anything!" The older man suddenly yells out, his desperation piercing the tense air so suddenly even I flinch. His chest rises and falls as he continues, "We didn't even know what the cargo was! Let us go! You do not want to mess with our organization!"
Dazai tilts his head, a slow, deliberate motion that makes him resemble the fucking psycho that he is. His lips curve into a smile, one devoid of warmth — cold, sharp, and predatory.
"Your organization?" He repeats as though he never heard such hilarious words in his life, his tone as sharp as Rashoumon. "Wasn't it your organization that messed with us first? The cargo you were responsible for never reached us. We lost a lot of money"
"That's because someone from your organization snitched!" The man spits out, his voice breaking due to the immense fear he's being put through. He seems like a rookie. Eh, he'll get better. If Dazai allows him to leave today, that is.
Unless he resigns as most do.
Dazai laughs, the sound low and unsettling, yet sexy at the same time. I stare at him, my heart racing even though it's a questionable moment to find him so endearing.
His hand let mine slip out as he takes a step closer, his polished shoes clicking against the metal floor. The men shrink back instinctively, as if his mere existence is enough to suffocate them.
"Snitched?" Dazai repeats, his tone turning mockingly curious. "How interesting. Six of my men are dead. Another is rotting in a jail cell."
He would be sitting in a jail cell if you didn't kill him, asshole.
"And yet, here you both sit, unscathed. Doesn't that strike you as... odd?"
The older man swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing like it might choke him. I just hope he doesn't piss his pants. It already smells like shit in here.
The younger one sutters, "W-we didn't snitch! Why would we snitch to the fucking police?"
Dazai straightens, letting silence occupy the scene for a moment. His uncovered eye bore into them, dissecting every hint of emotion on their faces.
Then, with eerie calmness, he murmurs, "Immunity, maybe? Turning informant comes with its perks, doesn't it? A lighter sentence, safety for your families... Perhaps a guarantee you'd walk out of here alive?"
The older man's mustache trembles again. "We... we didn't! I swear, we didn't!"
Dazai's smile widens, but it's the kind of smile that makes your blood run cold. He raises his hand and snaps his fingers once. The sharp sound echoes through the container, and the mafiosos behind the prisoners spring into motion. They bring out black clothes and swiftly tie around the men's heads, plunging them into complete darkness. Their muffled protests only amplify the tension.
"Wait—what are you doing?!" the younger one shouts, his voice laced with rising panic. "Please—don't—"
Dazai steps back.
"Leave us," he says to the mafiosos. His tone isn't loud, but it has some strange authority that makes me wanna leave the room too. "And close the door."
The mafiosos obey without question, retreating from the container and sealing the heavy door behind them with a metallic clang.
As the lock clicks into place, I realize I'm alone with Dazai and the two blindfolded men. My heartbeat quickens, a drumbeat of unease in my chest. I glance at him, my breath catching in my throat.
What will happen next?
Torture?
Murder?
Dazai turns to me with an almost comically charming smile, one that wouldn't look out of place on a dumb and innocent rich boy like Suoh Tamaki. His eyes sparkle with mischief, as though he's trying to assure me he's all harmless fun. Doesn't work though, he's too scary-looking in the dim light and his mafioso attire.
"Are you scared?" He asks.
"Of what?" I ask cautiously. "You, or the ghosts that definitely haunt this container?"
He pockets his hands, heavily entertained. "Are you afraid of ghosts?"
"That depends. Do you find girls who are afraid of ghosts attractive?"
"I find you attractive." He says instantly, as naturally as he breathes.
My face heats up, and I drop my gaze to the ground, flustered. Whenever I try to get the upper hand with a bit of flirting, he always manages to flip it around so effortlessly. It's maddening.
"Wh-whatever—ah, there are two captive men here! Watch your mouth—"
"Riki-chan." He calls my name, his tone shifting suddenly. I look at him, and he continues, his expression much more serious, "What do you think is the greatest weapon one can hold?"
A pop quiz... Really? God, he loves playing the teacher. Maybe he should just join my school as one, and we could live out some slice-of-life romance...
But this isn't the time for daydreaming, especially not with his expectant eyes fixed on me. I wrack my brain for an answer. Ryuen from Classroom of the Elite once claimed the greatest weapon is violence, but I've never agreed with that. Violence may breed fear, but beyond that, it's just senseless destruction.
But fear itself is not the answer. When do we feel afraid? Fear comes from knowing something—or someone—can cause you pain. Dazai claims to be a pain expert in 'The Day I Picked up Dazai, side B'.
"Our personality, our soul, is nothing but a convenient and unstable hypothesis based on primitive instincts such as pain and fear. Today, at this moment, your pain is your master and your king."
"Fear," I reply confidently, meeting his gaze with a smile. "Fear of pain."
He likes my answer.
A smile stretches on his lips, "A good answer."
-
Fanart time <33
(Istg I've been trying since 30th dec to tag you guys and wp app just centered all my text and kicking me out of the app whenever i tried to. I've never tagged anybody with the wp site, so if the tag doesnt work I'm gonna kms i hate this app so much)
1.
This beautiful art was made by Kana_Siblings
She looks so pretty and graceful here you won't believe she's so full of dumb shit 🤭💖
2.
These art are made by Luluuuuuche
They're so adorable 😭
Ahhhh i love everything about this 🥺🥺💖💖 just look at Odasaku and Ryu and his dot face aww
The hands of God finding out about the God of hands 😈🤣
That's the face of malice and chaos 😽😈
Thank you guys smmm for making art for my silly lil book, Ily sm <33
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Characters appearing:
Dazai Osamu & (OC) Akutagawa Riki
(OC) Ito Aoki, (OC) Kimura Shin
(OC) Ishikawa Yumi
Hirotsu Ryuurou
Mentioned: (OC) Nishimura Hiroto, (OC) Nishikata Makoto, Tanizaki Junichirou, (OC) Miyamoto Ken, Sakaguchi Ango, Oda Sakunosuke, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Akutagawa Gin, Nakahara Chuuya, Mori Ougai & others.
(Fyodor wasn't mentioned in this chap, so I'm mentioning him here. I hope he dies and goes to hell <3)
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(A/n: Heyyo guys Happy New Year. I wanted to upload during Dec 2024, but it didn't work out smh. I got sick around 8 Dec, and was bedridden my whole uni vacation... but now I'm fine, and uni restarted reeee- but I will try my best to write the next chapter faster than I wrote this one.
Writing this chapter was fun, and I liked this chapter more than I liked the previous ones for some reasons. Although I admit a few of the scenes are clunky here, definitely not the best I could do, but I feel happy with it. How about you, did you like it?
I really wanted to write M. and Dazai meeting in this chapter tbh, I miss writing Dazai being scary... and Dark Era is almost ending qwq maybe I should just start writing a beast version of this story (*/ω＼*)
With Valentine's coming up in this story, do u guys think these two idiots will finally kiss? I'm not hopeful, but with M in the picture, I can see Dazai making some drastic moves...
anyways, see ya next chapter, God willing <33