⋆·˚ caelia's garden ༘ *

Days have passed since you last saw Dazai, and truthfully, you’ve forgotten all about it. The tentative comfort you felt no longer lingered in your heart because of how occupied you’ve been with your responsibilities. It was early morning, you were having the usual weekly reports with Mori in his office. His praise felt validating at the start, but nowadays, you don't feel contentment when you hear him applauding you for a job well done.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. I almost forgot to ask. How did that mission go? The one I sent you on…I believe it was a Tuesday.”

“It went well.”

“Did you follow exactly what I told you?”

“...No witnesses.”

Mori clapped, an amused smile on his face. “Briliant! Ah, Y/N, I can always rely on you.”

The praise made your skin crawl, but you forced a polite smile, just like you always did. There were days where you smiled so much and nodded so many times you were sure muscle fibers in your cheeks were torn—but it’s okay. As long as the Port Mafia had their reliable, obedient, capable Demon Prodigy, then all is well.

“...Did you change anything about you today, Y/N?” Mori asks, his velvet voice masking his suspicion for genuine curiosity so well. You didn’t know what he was referring to—sure, you may have put on a bit more effort on your makeup today to hide your exhaustion, but a man like him didn’t care for those things.

“Hm? What do you mean?”

There was a small pause, and then Mori laughed. It was the laugh that always sets you on edge, because it often meant he was supposed to say something, but he chose to keep it to himself just a little longer. “It’s nothing, Y/N. Your assignments are on your desk.” And just like that, you were dismissed.

You walked to your office, your shoes slapping against the floor felt like a countdown. What assignment was it this time? You seemed to get used to the viciousness that your assignments required. It’s your duty, after all.

Once you arrived, the mahogany doors slammed behind you before you collapsed onto your leather chair. The black binder of instructions and details about your new mission looked like it was taunting you, but you opened it anyway. To your surprise, you were getting new companions—new recruits, almost your age. Ogawa, Meiko, Sayaka.

“New recruits…huh?” You mumble to yourself, looking through their files, and sure enough, they were still fresh members. Impressive abilities, yes, but inexperienced. But honestly, you felt quite relieved. You can’t remember the last time you worked with kids your age.

A soft knock interrupts the silence in your office, it was different from when people just barged into the room. “Enter.”, you call out. And there they were. One look at them, and you already had a good guess on their personalities, but looking at them together, they didn’t look like mafia assassins. They looked like a bunch of teenagers trying to look tough. Just like you.

Ogawa had his hands in his pocket, you smiled at how he was trying to play it cool, but you could see that his boots were polished so bright the office lights reflected off them—he was trying hard to impress the Demon Prodigy.

Meiko was…overly formal. She had the binder clutched closely to her chest, her voice cracking slightly as she introduced the three of them.

And Sayaka…You could tell she had a good heart. She looked at you, not as the legendary prodigy, but as a peer. “Hey…you seem exhausted. Did we arrive too early?” The girl says, and you offer her a polite smile.

“No, you’re…right on time. I’m relieved. I look forward to getting to know you three on this mission.” You say softly, the tone that was usually reserved for your loved ones at the orphanage seemed to come out naturally. “...You all look so tense! No need to be so formal, we’re the same age.”

The visible relief that washed over their faces was almost pathetic. Meiko’s shoulders dropped, Sayaka let out a breath she seemed to have been holding since the lobby.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Sayaka squeaked, taking a daring half-step forward. She nervously fumbled with her pocket before pulling out a small, crumpled candy, holding it out to you. “We–we heard the Demon Prodigy was terrifying! But…Y/N-san, you…you look really tired. Do you want a sweet?”

“Sayaka, shut up! You can’t just offer candy to an executive!” Ogawa hissed under his breath, his face flushing bright red.

You stared at the colorful wrapper in her hand. For a second, you remembered the smell of a warm convenience store meat bun. A small, genuine tug pulled at the corner of your lips—different from the smile that Mori demanded, but something real.

“Thank you, Sayaka.” You smile softly, taking the candy. “Let’s get to work!”

The three of you got out of the vehicle, walking to the venue that Mori described. “Mori-san, you assigned me to work with a brat!” You groaned into your collar mic, ignoring Ogawa’s offended squawk from behind you. But despite your complaints, a huge smile was plastered all over your face, and for once, it was a smile that reached your eyes.

“Wha– hey! I’m right here, y’know! Tsk.” Ogawa huffs, lightly hitting your shoulder. At that moment, the four of you didn’t look like mafia members, you looked like a group of friends going on a walk. You felt it too, actually. The bond that was forming felt reminiscent of the ones you had back at the orphanage.

You were teasing Ogawa, telling the two girls to stay on your side so they don’t have to deal with his attitude. “You know, you really live up to your title, huh? You’re as cruel as a demon can get. Is this how you normally act on missio–”

The series of giggles that came from the group suddenly faded, looking at Ogawa and the blood stain blooming on his chest that stained his clean shirt. And suddenly, your body went cold.

He didn’t die instantly, no, that was the worst part. He drops, hand pressed to his chest, gasping in shock.

“Get down!” You commanded, pulling the two girls by the arm and urging them to hide behind anything. But the terrifying truth hit you like a truck—they were new recruits. And this is where their lack of training ruined everything. Meiko, instead of taking cover, throws herself in front of you.

“Meiko, what are you doing?! Get down–”

“M-mori-san told us to protect you at all costs!”

“He…what?”

Before you could even ask why, another shot was fired. Wet crimson started to trickle down Meiko’s shoulder. Still, she tried to use her abilities, but it was no use. The shooter was far away, too far for even you to spot.

Sayaka and Meiko kept trying to shield you, like you were something fragile, as if they weren’t the ones who were absolutely vulnerable! Their hands are shaking too much, they won’t even pull out their gun. They won’t take cover, they stand completely exposed in the open, trying to play hero, and the enemy just opens fire.

“If the two of you don’t take cover, I swear–”

“I-I can’t leave Ogawa there! He’s hurt!” Sayaka cries, standing up, contemplating whether she should come out of hiding and drag Ogawa’s body back to them.

Your earpiece crackled with Mori’s voice,

“Y/N. Do not redirect your squad. Let them hold frontline.”

“B-but…they’re–”

“Yes, I am aware they are outgunned. But their deaths will buy you exactly ninety seconds to flank the target.”

“That’s absurd!”

“Proceed with the optimal route.”

Every cell in your body was telling you to pull her down and stay low, but you couldn’t act fast enough. She was already running to Ogawa.

She didn’t even make it three steps.

The sound of the next gunshot was deafeningly sharp, cutting through her terrified sob. You watched, paralyzed, as her body jolted and crumpled onto the asphalt right next to Ogawa. She didn’t move. Not even a twitch.

“Sayaka!” Meiko screamed.

“Don’t you dare get up.” You say coldly, your jaw trembling. You haven’t felt this scared in a long time. You’ve always been comfortable working with other subordinates. Why are you hesitating so much?

In a blind panic, Meiko abandoned her stance and lunged forward after her friend, completely exposing herself to the unseen shooter.

Crack. Crack.

Two more shots echoed through the empty street. Meiko collapsed mid-stride, a choked scream ripping through her throat as she reached out toward the others before her body went entirely limp.

Just like that, the street went dead silent. Three bodies lay on the gray asphalt, the dark crimson pooling around them and staining the pavement. The quietness of your surroundings allowed you more mental space to focus, but your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, so deafeningly loud that the silence their deaths offered was useless.

Still, your instincts and reflexes were flawless. You performed perfectly, eliminating all targets and finishing the mission all by yourself. Yes, you were all by yourself. All alone. Perhaps you were destined to be that way, if all those who came too close to you were doomed to end up as bodies on the pavement.

When the last echo of gunfire faded, you stood in the center of the ruins, completely unscathed. Not a single bullet had grazed you.

You were safe. You were rich. You were the untouchable Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia.

And you were entirely, utterly alone.

Your breath hitched, the realization of what you have done and what you were capable of doing settled like a suffocating weight over your chest. You lunged forward, should you carry them back to the vehicle? Should you check if any of them were still alive? What should you do?

“That’s enough, Y/N.”

Mori’s voice crackled through your earpiece. It was cold, clear, steady.

“Mori-san…” Your voice came out as a ragged whimper, almost like a child about to cry, because you were. For the first time in years, your eyes were wide and glassy with tears as you stared at the blood on the ground. “They’re…they’re all hit. I need to move them, I need to–”

You scrambled frantically, running to their bodies scattered on the pavement.

“You need to go back.”

“Go back…? To headquarters?”

“Yes. Come back home.”

Home. The sheer audacity he had to assume that you called that cold, sterile, cruel building home. That was not your home, that was his chessboard, and you were being played as a pawn. Yes, a pawn. And a pawn followed its linear devotion.

“...I’m on my way back.”

The ride on the way back was quiet. The driver didn’t even question why you came back alone. He knew far too well how the mafia worked.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to Mori’s office, seeing his cold and unbothered smile, you failed to keep composure. Tears threatened to fall, the drying blood on your hands seemed to sting, your collar felt too tight. The weight of your skill and ruthlessness was unbearable.

“Oh? Y/N…don’t tell me you’re about to cry.” He smiles, walking up to you and embracing you—he was proud. You were his pride. “Don’t look so miserable now. The mission was a 100% success! You should be proud, another thing to add to your long list of credentials.”

“They…they died and I left them, I–”

“The ambush only proves the enemy’s numbers and vantage points are far greater than our initial prediction suggested. If you had broken cover to retrieve unviable assets, you would have risked compromising the Demon Prodigy.”

“Unviable assets?” You choked on the words, a bitter wave of nausea rising in your throat. “They’re kids! They were trying to protect me because you told them to!”

A crack of thunder made you jump. It had started to rain.

“It’s…It’s ludicrous! The fact that you purposefully sent me on a mission with kids who didn’t have sufficient training to even go on hands-on missions is absurd! And for what, to buy more time? You know I’m more than capable of doing that by myself! They were just recruits!”

“And they fulfilled their purpose beautifully, Y/N. Their compliance bought you valuable seconds to calculate the reload pattern and trajectory. They were a necessary, mathematically acceptable distraction. Now…use the data they provided, and better yourself.”

You froze, his embrace suddenly feeling like a branding iron against your skin. He had known. He had ordered them to act as shields to protect you because he knew they’d obey. He knew they’d die. They weren’t assigned to you as companions, partners, teammates, no. They were assigned as disposable bait.

Once you were dismissed, you ran out of the building, not even bothering to clean up the bloodstains on your shirt. You didn’t care who saw, you just couldn’t take being in the compound anymore.

It was raining, the rain mixing with the blood created a strong, coppery scent that made you scrunch your nose. You were soaking wet with rain water, so you seek refuge in a familiar convenience store. The cheap grease, the steam from the meat buns.

“Did he really think he can just manufacture a perfect executioner if he dresses them up and hands them a gun?”

Dazai. You remembered Dazai. Before the clerk could even welcome you in the store, you already ran out. The pitter patter of the rain on the empty street mixed with your shallow breaths and rapid heartbeat was enough to drown out all other thoughts in your head, all you thought about was Dazai. They alleyway.

You arrived at the alleyway, obviously, he wasn’t there. Days have passed since you last saw each other, and he probably already forgot about it. The alley was humid and damp, like the air stuck to your skin. It didn’t help that you were already soaked.

Tired from the run, the exhaustion finally registering. Your legs were shaking and your throat hurt from just breathing. Looking around at your surroundings, you remember the exact spot where he stood that night, teasing you and trying to get you to open up. The warm memory didn’t stand a chance against the cold of the rain and empty brick walls.

He isn’t here. Why would he be? He escaped. He’s in the light. You’re the only one trapped in the dark, covered in the blood of kids who trusted you.

You tried to lean against the wall, but your knees buckled, hitting the moist asphalt. In search of your phone, which you left in the car, you found the candy that Sayaka had given you earlier, stored away in the pocket on your coat. Pulling your knees to your chest, burying your face in the dark fabric of your coat, and finally letting go.

You didn’t just cry; you wailed. Hiccups disrupting your breathing, hot tears falling one after the other. The image of Ogawa dropping to his knees, Meiko’s shaking, Sayaka’s eyes—It played like a loop in your mind. Your sobs felt like a physical blow to your ribs, tearing at your throat until you went hoarse.

“They were a necessary, mathematically acceptable distraction. Now…use the data they provided, and better yourself.”

Mori’s velvety voice in your head made you pull on your own hair, in hopes that you could just forget.

Minutes bled into hours, and you cried until the tears ran dry, your muscles ached from the sheer strain of breathing. Your forehead rested limply against your knees as you drifted into a state of pure, miserable exhaustion. You were so cold. So tired. And so alone.

“My, my. Someone’s having a terrible day.”

Your head snapped up, and there he was, Dazai. Your Dazai.

He crouched down to your level, pity evident in his eyes. He felt so much of that for you. Oh, he pitied you greatly. Your eyes were red, cheeks flushed from crying, your hair sticking to your forehead from the rain. “You must be the reason why it’s pouring so hard today,”

Dazai flashed you a teasing grin, cupping your face with his bandaged hands and making you look up at him. “Come on, Y/N, I’m already here! How are you still crying when the one and only Dazai stands in front of yo–”

“Dazai-nii…” You sob, burying your face in his chest. Dazai-nii. It wasn’t forced anymore. You needed someone, a confidant, and he was the closest one you got. “Dazai-nii, everything is so…painful.”

He stayed quiet, a bit surprised at your vulnerability. You looked different from the kid with the sharp tongue nights ago—you looked smaller. “I feel so miserable. I make everyone miserable.” You sob into the fabric of his coat, and though it was muffled, he felt it in his very soul.

He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Not when he knew what it was like to be in your place—to be a kid who carried the weight of the world, who had blood on her hands. Because as he looked at your trembling shoulders, the feeling of wearing the same coat as yours settled in his own mind. He knew how you felt, he knew it in his very bones. It was a suffocating belief that had been pinned in his mind. He spent years believing that he was a creature born from the dark, a curse so toxic that anyone who dared to show him warmth or trust would eventually be consumed by it.

He spent his entire youth believing he was a plague. He had looked at the bodies of his own subordinates, and eventually, Odasaku’s, thinking the exact same thing: I make everyone miserable.

He was right when he said Mori made you a copy of him, because this was the proof. Not just anyone could shatter a kid’s soul so thoroughly that they’d fully believe they made everyone miserable.

© — hopleii

“Dazai-nii, huh?” You say softly, seeing how the words felt on your tongue. Your voice sounded like a whisper, even in the quiet of the night. “Hah! As if!” You scoff, followed by a series of shallow giggles. Dazai was a bit offended, but seeing you laugh, even just a little bit, made his heart feel lighter.

“How rude!” He pouts, sitting on the side of the curb and peeling away the packaging of his egg sandwich that he bought at the convenience store. “I wouldn’t laugh so hard if I were you, I can guarantee that you will be running back to me asking for brotherly advice!”

You sat down next to him, taking a sip of your soda, “You’re terribly confident, huh? You’re not even sure if we’ll see each other again.” You scoff, but there was no bite to your words. Dazai looked like a kicked puppy, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his pouty expression.

“Stop that. What are you, 5?”

“Don’t be so rude, Y/N! I’m still older than you!”

He crosses his arms, looking over at you. He sees that you haven’t opened your candy, or bought any other food that can fill your stomach. Luckily, he came prepared!

“Hey, aren’t you gonna eat?”

“Hm? Oh…right.”

You tear open the packaging of your snack, popping a few pieces in your mouth.

“You know,” Dazai starts, scooching over closer to you. “You’re gonna get sick if you eat just candy. You need sustenance, Y/N.” He says in a dramatic, scolding manner. He digs through his paper bag, pulling out two steaming hot meat buns. “Here.”

Dazai hands her the warm bun, waiting for her to take the first bite. “...Why are you being so nice to me?” She asks genuinely, the attitude in her voice starting to chip away. “I mean…we’re in rivaling organizations. I don’t think your colleagues will appreciate you talking to me.”

“Hm. A thank you would’ve been nice,” Dazai hums, chewing on the meat bun. “I’m not talking to you because you’re a Port Mafia executive, you know. Even if you aren’t, I still would chat with you if I saw you alone in that alleyway. And take you out for meat buns. You look like you need a snack, kiddo.” He lightly bumps your shoulder, trying to keep things lighthearted, but the loneliness in the air was undoubtedly heavy.

The two of you quietly ate the meat buns, the sound of crinkling paper wrappers and the occasional blowing to cool down the food were the only sounds shared between the two of you. Still, you finished your food. You didn’t realize you were that hungry.

“Dazai-san…?”

“It’s Dazai-nii.”

You sigh, throwing your head back in slight annoyance. “Fine. Dazai-nii.”

The nickname surprisingly didn’t feel foreign or unusual on your tongue—it felt natural. In a way, he was being quite brotherly by looking after you like this, bantering with you like this. “I hope you don’t mind me asking…but why did you quit?”

The question made Dazai pause, tilting his head and pondering if he should give you a real answer or just say something easier to understand. He chose the easy route. “Eh, it just…wasn’t my place anymore.”

“How come? Everyone said you were good at what you did, and you had such a high-rank. Surely you didn’t quit for such a simple reason!” Damn. This girl was way too curious.

Dazai sighed. He knew he wasn’t gonna shake you off so easily, but he didn’t want to tell you the full story about it either. He didn’t feel like bringing up Odasaku to you yet. No, not when you still had the Port Mafia deeply rooted in your heart. “Hm…that’s the best answer I can give, Y/N.”

You simply nodded, not bothering to press the issue any further. Still, your mind wandered.

“What about you? I mean…how’d you end up in that hellhole?” He asks, the question a mix of lightheartedness and genuine curiosity.

“I grew up in an orphanage. They kicked me out, said I was too dangerous for the other kids. Mori found me on the streets when I was ill…and this led to that.” You explained it so easily, as if you were simply talking about the weather.

Dazai felt…pity. Your story reminded him of Atsushi’s, and he wondered—what if it wasn’t Mori who took you in? What if it were him, or Kunikida, or Fukuzawa, anyone else but the man who molded children into weapons—would you be spared from seeing the horrors of this kind of life? He thought about where you could’ve been at that time, that if he could just turn back time and go back, he’d find you before anyone else did. He knew it first-hand; being in the mafia was no easy feat. Being a mafia executive was harder. Being Mori’s prodigy was suffocating.

“Hey, you still there?” You hum, tapping his shoulder.

“Psst. Hey.” still not listening.

A deep sigh came from you, “Dazai-nii.”

“Hm? Yes?” He turns his head towards you, a grin on his face. Asshole. “Ah, yes, sorry. I was just…lost in thought.” Dazai stands up, picking up his paper bag and brushing dust off his slacks. “It’s nothing, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. But I will say, you must head home. It’s already 3 in the morning, and I have to head to work in 4 hours. Let’s call it a night?”

You stood up, nodding and waving goodbye. You had to head home too. The two of you had opposite routes, so he couldn’t walk you back to your place.

“Hey, kid.” Dazai calls out. He was already strides away. “That alleyway from earlier…I hang around there a lot. Just to hide from Kunikida. Pay me a visit some time, will you?”

You turn your back, seeing only his figure illuminated by the dimmed streetlamp and the moonlight. You flashed him a polite smile and nodded. He didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Of course, you gave credit where it's due—he looked out for you tonight and gave you company, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. You felt a bit guilty, reducing his identity to ‘TRAITOR’ all those years ago without actually meeting him, but now you have met him. And you ate meat buns with him. And he was a pretty nice guy.

“...Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Dazai-nii.” You waved him goodbye and walked away.

When you arrived at your small, worn down apartment, you crashed onto the couch, not even bothering to walk the few steps that lead to the bedroom. You were exhausted—the training earlier this morning, the mission, the mere thought of training in a few more hours…it was a grueling schedule, but you tried to assure yourself it’ll be fine.

After a few minutes of shut-eye, you sat up on the couch abruptly, so fast it made you dizzy, but the point was to wake yourself up. “It’ll be okay. I’ll do better today.” You tell yourself, trying so hard to convince your mind that the next time you stepped into that godforsaken building will be better than the last.

How terribly wrong you were.

© — hopleii

Dazai was walking the streets of Yokohoma on a particularly melancholy and cold night, expecting the usual silence of the sleeping city and a certain loneliness that seemed to follow him on nights like these. However, he was not expecting to run into you.

He heard of you through rumors, the new Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia. You didn’t realize he was standing at the entrance of an alleyway, too busy cleaning up the mess you made during the mission—no witnesses was what Mori said. You turned your back, surprised to see him. Who would be stupid enough to wander these parts of Yokohoma at this time of night?

Instinctively, you pulled out your pistol, pointing it at the man who stood a few strides away.

“Relax, It’s me.” he says, his voice calm and composed. You weren’t sure who it was, walking closer. The streetlights aided your vision and revealed the identity of the man. You only saw him in pictures, documents. Heard of him through stories from Mafia executives—Osamu Dazai. Former Demon prodigy.

It felt…weird. Standing in front of the man who once held the same title as you did. “You look way too young to be holding that. Seriously, does Mori still make kids work for him?” Dazai hums, redirecting your pistol downwards with his finger, careful not to put too much pressure.

“Are you–”

“Osamu Dazai? Yes. I am.”

He looked at you, taking note of how awfully young you looked. Perhaps you were the same age as him when he was still Demon Prodigy.

“How old are you, kid? Don’t you have a bed time?”

“...I’m busy, if you haven’t noticed. Please leave.”

Dazai wasn’t one to judge someone’s character so quickly, but looking at you was almost like looking at a mirror. You even had the same coat Mori gave him. It was uncanny, really—the same eyes, approach, the certain poise he was trained to have—it sent shivers down his spine.

“Huh. You work for Mori?”

“How did you–”

“Kid, you’ve gotta understand that I am not a clueless outsider. I was in the same place as you, you surely must’ve known!” He says in his typical, theatrical tone. “I’ve gotta ask, did your boss miss me that much? He must have! I mean…he went as far as making a copy of me!”

“What are you even talking about?” You retort, the words coming out a lot more aggressive than you intended. “Sorry. You just…talk a lot, huh?” A sigh leaves your lips, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that rested on your forehead, the adrenaline from the mission wearing off.

Dazai presses a bandaged hand against his chest, as if you had physically pierced his feelings. “You hurt me, kid!” He says, tilting his head to the side. Despite his dramatic attitude, he remains alert. His eyes, sharp as ever, remained cautious with how dangerously close your finger hovered over the grip of the pistol.

“And here I thought the mafia taught the new generation some manners! Respect your seniors–”

“You aren’t my senior, traitor.”

“Whatever…”

He takes a step closer, the cold wind of the city sweeps through the alleyway, carrying the metallic scent of the “mess” you were cleaning up. He didn’t have to squint and look through the shadows, he knew exactly what Mori’s orders looked like. The playful cadence in his voice drops to a casual, almost mocking familiarity. “I talk a lot because you don’t talk enough! You haven’t even told me your name, Demon Prodigy. Let me guess…”

He gestures vaguely at your coat, flashing a sharp grin. “Mori gave you the whole speech of prim and proper mafia etiquette, something like that, didn’t he? How you have a reputation to uphold, and that you were his finest asset, so you should throw away your humanity for the sake of power and the organization?”

He huffs. You click your tongue. Smartass.

He leans against the brick walls of the alleyway casually, a humourless laugh escaping his lips.

“He loves that script! Used it on me, too. It’s funny, really. Did he really think he can just manufacture a perfect executioner if he dresses them up and hands them a gun?”

Dazai looks at you, you can’t tell if his gaze was heavy with something mocking you, or something close to pity, or perhaps a profound sense of nostalgia. “Tell me, kid…do you actually like being a puppet?”

You avert your gaze, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not a puppet. I do this on my own terms.” It was half-lie, half-truth. While you were being honest about doing all this willingly, you couldn’t really convince yourself that you weren’t a puppet. The mafia is all you’ve ever known ever since they picked you up from the streets. A part of you thought that being merciless, but drowning in riches and comfort was better, yet a stubborn part of your heart believed that your humanity was more important. It was a war you fought every waking day, and Dazai could see that. Because he knew.

Oh, he knew.

“Hey, kid…have you eaten yet?” He asks casually, pushing himself off the wall. “You won’t grow if you don’t sleep and eat properly.” Dazai would never admit it, but he saw how tired you looked. Exhausted, even. It was evident in your facial expression and how your body was practically going limp every time a cold breeze came in that you had no fuel in your body.

“Why?”

“There’s a convenience store just a few blocks away!” He says cheerily,

“Go by yourself.”

“No way! The streetlights there are busted, you can’t expect me to walk the scary dark streets alone!”

You scoff, running your fingers through your hair in annoyance at his persistence and stubbornness. “You’re a grown man!”

Dazai throws his hands in the air as if you’ve just accused him of something utterly preposterous. “Age has absolutely nothing to do with the fear of the dark! Besides, I am a very fragile, vulnerable, and delicate civilian now.” He says, gesturing to himself with a mock innocence. “Come on, kid! What if a mugger jumps out, what am I supposed to do? Bore them to death with my charm?”

You stare at him, completely deadpan. You’re holding a loaded gun, standing over a freshly cleaned crime scene, and the former mafia executive is currently whining about a broken streetlamp. The sheer absurdity of it all! It made your head ache. You should shoot him, you could shoot him…but would you? An irrational thought of yours was telling you to just do it and get rid of him, but your curiosity got the best of you. But curiosity often killed the cat.

Beneath the annoyance, your stomach betrayed you.

It lets out a loud, aggressive growl.

You freeze, the silence that follows is deafening. A hot flush of embarrassment rising to your cheeks as you fiercely glared at the concrete floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning—you were juggling consecutive missions and your rigorous training schedule left you starving, but you didn’t have any room for something as trivial as a lunch break.

A slow, triumphant grin spreads across his stupidly handsome face. “Aha! The stomach of the Demon Prodigy has spoken, and it demands tribute!!” He steps forward, slinging an arm over your shoulder, completely ignoring the pistol you still haven’t fully holstered.

“H-hey! Watch it! I’m holding a loaded weapon!” You yelp, backing away and storing away the gun, but it was still close enough for you to reach when needed.

“Come on. My treat. Consider it as tax for taking over my old job.” Your instinct was telling you to run away, to draw your knife, to scream at him. You should call Mori. You should kill him. But as his hand rests lightly on your shoulder, avoiding any pressure points that would trigger a defensive reflex, you remember something terrifying—you completely forgot his ability could nullify yours.

His touch feels heavy. For a split second, the suffocating weight of your own ability—the power that constantly runs through your veins—simply vanishes. It’s quiet. You could tell he was still cautious. He wasn’t as casual as he seemed to be.

“Don’t look so miserable,” He says softly, his tone shifting just enough for you to catch the underlying gravity. “It’s just the convenience store. The Port Mafia won’t crumble if you take twenty minutes to yourself…and dedicate it to me, of course!”

The walk to the store was oddly…peaceful. You stayed quiet while Dazai hummed a tune, keeping you at arm’s length. You weren’t used to this, walking casually like you were buddies. The only walks you go on were either alone, or with subordinates on the way to a mission.

Dazai didn’t mind your silence or reluctance to chat with him, you were right to be wary about him. But that didn’t stop him from being his usual talkative self. “So, are you gonna tell me your name or will you remain Demon Prodigy in my book?”

“You already know that I’m Demon Prodigy, surely you know my name already.” You say softly, watching as your breath turned into mist in the cold night. It was colder than usual.

“I do! But you gotta say it, that’s how you introduce yourself, right?”

“...Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, lovely Y/N.”

A few steps later, Dazai spoke once more. He sure knew how to keep the conversation going. “How old are you, kid? Again, you seem terribly young to be out at this hour. Let alone hold a gun.”

“I’m 15.” You admit casually. It wasn’t like you kept it a secret, you just weren’t loud about it. You didn’t see any point in bragging about being younger than most in the mafia, it was all about skill–you often just kept quiet about it in order to avoid condescension.

“Great! Same age as I was when I was in your place.”

You halted abruptly, “Look…you seem to reminisce a lot from when you were an executive. Why’d you turn your back on it if you miss it so much?”

It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you nearing the store. “I never said I missed it.”

Dazai walks into the convenience store, a tired clerk half asleep on the cashier. “Pick out whatever you want, my treat.” was what he said before the two of you separated aisles. You picked out a few items—a soda, some candy, and some hair pins.

“That’s quite an assortment of items you’ve got there, but I’m not sure hairpins taste good with soda.” He hums sarcastically from behind, making you startled. You can feel the exhaustion creeping in—for you, the lack of alertness meant you needed to sleep.

“Seriously, Y/N, You gotta eat *something*. Prodigies have to perform well! Food is fuel, kiddo.”

“Stop calling me that. And I need these hairpins. My hair gets in the way.”

Dazai watches as you tuck your hair behind your ears. You looked so endearing in this aisle—choosing out hair pins for your hair was awfully girly of you.

“I still wonder how they chose a girl like you to be my replacement…” He wonders, rubbing his chin dramatically. “Not that I have a problem with you being a girl, of course! It’s just…you don’t look like a cold-hearted mafioso, really. You look like you’re in high school.”

“I am supposed to be in high school.” You answer with an uninterested tone, looking through the shelves. “But I think I’m smart enough.”

The two of you walked to the cashier, having to tap on the clerk’s shoulder to get him to wake up and scan the items. Dazai insisted he walked you home to wherever you were staying, but you turn him down considering your dorm was still mafia property, and you didn’t want to get involved with any trouble he might face.

Outside the store was quiet, the air was cold. You checked your watch, squinting your eyes to see the hands pointing at the numbers. 2:45AM. You tap on Dazai’s shoulder, showing him the time, “Dazai-san…you should head home. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

He smiles at your politeness, “Ah, how considerate of you! Seems like you do have manners, haha! But don’t worry about me, Y/N-chan! I’m sure my colleagues are used to me slacking off at work by now!”

“And…stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what?”

“Dazai-san. It’s too formal, especially for a kid as rude as you.”

You roll your eyes, clutching the paper bag that carried your items. With a sigh, you looked at him, seeing the dumb grin he had plastered on his face. “What should I call you then?”

“Dazai-nii.”

head bonks every morning after assembly

screams your whole freaking government name for no reason and just walks past you, watching you scramble to shut him up

lowkey suspicious of your friends. . .he'd never admit it, but you're his favorite junior and he doesn't want you choosing the wrong friends so even if you insist they're okay, his senpai-senses go haywire.

EXTREMELY SMART and helps you with your schoolwork since he's a year above u and he practically mastered those lessons!

tbh lets u hangout in his classroom with the rest of the class, and you're like the only 1st year in the room so everyone is so confused and he gets so DEFENSIVE

like "what, never seen a first year before? big deal,"

no. 1 rage baiter

ultimate hb

FALLING IN LOVE. . . he never would've thought he'd feel this way for the most annoying junior in the whole world. he didn't really know he was falling at first, just thought that maybe he was feeling guilty for being so mean all the time. but when he felt his heart beating faster, face getting redder, and his voice getting softer when it comes to you? he knew he was down bad. and he was in denial about it for some time!

YK THAT THING THAT TALL GUYS DO WHERE THEY BEND DOWN TO HEAR YOU BETTER? yeah he started doing that when before, he just told you to speak up

head bonks --- > head pats!!!! his playful hits to the head turned softer and, eventually, became small pats on the head.

he's a great cook. and when you told him that, he suddenly made too much food or started giving food away since he didn't want it to go bad (he made them fresh for u btw)

gets so worried whenever he hears you've been training or studying too hard. he's a firm believer of pushing yourself towards something greater, but he can't help but feel his heart drop whenever he sees you tired!

teases you, but it ends up sounding like compliments.

"you think you're bein' cute? well, yeah you are...I MEAN--"

*explosions*

IN A RELATIONSHIP. . . bakugo wouldn't really treat you differently. i mean, there will be changes of course, but nothing too sudden to be surprised about! though, once he does get into a relationship with you, he would learn how to be...softer? not in the wimpy way that he looks down on, but the kind of soft that he knows would make you happy. he's older, so of course its his natural instinct to look out for you, and maybe that instinct amplified when the two of u became official! :)

HARD LAUNCHES U ON HIS INSTAGRAM OR WHATEVER

lowkey becomes the corniest boyfriend ever

like he used to hate on those guys who used corny lovey-dovey captions on their girlfriend's photos but now he's like that, if not WORSE.

he's not the type to really care because he's pretty confident in himself, but ever since you guys started dating, he had the urge to impress you or ask you for feedback (praise tbh)