To Love a Dead Man: Chap VI
ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇꜱ… ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏ, ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx!
The sharp pounding against your bedroom door shattered the fragile peace of your sleep like a stone hurled through glass.
Each strike echoed through the small room, vibrating against the walls with enough force to make you flinch beneath the blankets. A groggy groan escaped your lips as you buried your face deeper into the pillow, desperately trying to cling to the last wisps of sleep that still lingered like morning fog.
“…Mm…?” you mumbled, your voice thick with exhaustion. “Y-Yeah…?”
For a brief second, the knocking stopped. Hope fluttered inside your chest. Maybe whoever it was had given up. Your hope was crushed almost immediately.
The pounding resumed, louder than before, accompanied by a familiar voice that cut through the silence like the crack of a whip.
“Get up. We have a mission.”
His tone left absolutely no room for argument. Your eyes flew open.
Sleep vanished from your body in an instant, replaced by a surge of adrenaline that had your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. You practically threw the blankets off yourself, stumbling out of bed so quickly that you nearly tripped over your own feet. You scrambled to pull on your Port Mafia uniform, fingers fumbling with the buttons as your sleepy mind struggled to catch up with the urgency of the situation.
“Hold on!” you called through the door. “I’m coming!”
No response. Only impatient tapping from the hallway.
Once your jacket was finally straightened, you shoved your feet into your shoes without bothering to tie them properly before yanking the door open. Dazai stood waiting outside, if waiting was even the right word. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, his posture lazy as ever, but the irritated tapping of his foot betrayed his impatience. His expression looked as though waking you had been the greatest inconvenience he’d experienced all morning. He looked you up and down.
“I woke up less than a minute ago.”
“And yet somehow it felt like an hour.”
You weren’t about to start arguing before you’d even left headquarters.
Instead, you hurried after him as he turned without another word and began walking through the winding halls of the Port Mafia headquarters. The building was unusually quiet. Only the occasional footsteps of passing subordinates echoed through the corridors, accompanied by the distant humming of fluorescent lights overhead.
For some reason…Everything felt different today.
Maybe it was because this wasn’t another day of training until your muscles screamed. Maybe it was because you weren’t simply following Dazai around with a notebook, silently observing him complete assignments while feeling completely useless.
It was because this was your first real mission. Your first chance to prove you deserve to be here. The realization settled heavily in your chest, excitement and fear tangled together like vines around your heart.
As soon as the two of you stepped outside, the cool morning air kissed your cheeks, carrying with it the salty scent of Yokohama’s harbor. The city was only just beginning to wake. Cars drifted lazily through the streets while shopkeepers unlocked storefronts and pedestrians hurried toward work, blissfully unaware that somewhere within their city, another organization was preparing to challenge the Port Mafia.
He immediately set off down the sidewalk at a pace that could only be described as aggravatingly fast. His long strides seemed almost effortless, as though he floated across the pavement instead of walking on it. You quickly matched his speed. A few weeks ago, you would’ve been struggling already. Your breathing would’ve turned ragged, your legs would’ve burned, and you would’ve been asking him to slow down.
Your breaths remained steady, rising and falling exactly as Kouyou had taught you.
A rhythm as natural as the tide.
Your calves still protested slightly, but it was manageable. You almost smiled to yourself.
Kouyou’s training had worked.
Without realizing it, Dazai shot you a glance from the corner of his eye. He’d expected you to fall behind by now.
You were walking beside him without complaint. He said nothing. But you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes before he looked forward again.
The silence stretched on.
It wasn’t a comfortable silence. It never was around Dazai. It felt heavy, hanging between the two of you like thick storm clouds waiting to burst. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you.
“So…” you began carefully, trying to sound casual, “where exactly are we going?”
You sighed quietly before continuing anyway.
“You took the mission file from me before I could finish reading it last night.”
“I don’t even know what we’re doing.”
Dazai clicked his tongue in annoyance. Without slowing his pace, he reached into his coat and shoved the thick folder against your chest.
The edge of the file smacked into you hard enough to make you stumble a step. You barely caught it before it hit the ground.
“…You know,” you muttered under your breath, “normal people hand things to each other.”
You resisted the overwhelming urge to smack him with the folder. Instead, you opened it while walking, and your eyes skimmed over the neatly typed pages.
Enemy Organization…Information Theft…Hidden Base...Yokohama…Confidential Intelligence…The further you read, the more serious your expression became.
“So they’ve been gathering information on us…” You murmured.
“They won’t be for much longer.”
“They’ve been hiding inside Yokohama this whole time?”
“If they wanted to stay hidden, why pick a place surrounded by people?” you asked. “Wouldn’t somewhere abandoned make more sense?”
For the first time since leaving headquarters…Dazai actually looked at you. Not with annoyance. Not with boredom. With something closer to mild disbelief.
“…You really don’t think before speaking.”
“If they hid somewhere abandoned, investigators would search abandoned locations first.”
He sighed dramatically, like explaining basic arithmetic to a child.
“By hiding somewhere ordinary…hey become invisible.”
You followed his eyes. Workers entered buildings carrying coffee; office lights flickered on. Nobody looked suspicious. Nobody stood out.
“If everyone expects criminals to hide underground…” Dazai continued, “…then hiding inside an office building becomes the perfect disguise.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
He sounded almost surprised you’d figured it out.
“It would’ve worked against average civilians…People like you.”
You slowly lowered the mission file.
“…People like me? I’m literally in the Port Mafia.”
You stared at him in disbelief.
“You could at least pretend to have faith in me.”
“I don’t believe in lying.”
Your eye twitched again. Instead of arguing further, you shut the folder a little harder than necessary before tossing it toward him. He caught it one-handed without even looking.
“I didn’t think about it like that,” you admitted after a long silence. “It’s my first mission.” Your shoulders slumped slightly. “You could try being patient every once in a while.”
Dazai stared ahead. He sighed as dramatically as an actor performing on stage before suddenly quickening his pace.
“Oh, come on!” you called after him. “You did that on purpose!”
No response. You hurried to catch up.
“You aren’t exactly pleasant company either, you know!”
That finally earned you a reaction.
“…Was that your version of being offended?”
“And yet,” he replied smoothly, “you’re still following me.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it.
A tiny smile threatened to tug at the corner of his mouth. It vanished before you could be certain you’d actually seen it. After another fifteen minutes of walking, the two of you finally came to a stop. You looked up.
The building standing before you looked painfully ordinary; tall glass windows reflected the morning sunlight, and employees walked in and out through the revolving doors. Nothing about it suggested it housed a dangerous organization plotting against one of the most feared criminal groups in Yokohama. It blended into the city like a single drop of rain disappearing into the ocean. And suddenly…Dazai’s earlier explanation made perfect sense.
You couldn’t stop staring at the building.
Its polished glass windows reflected the pale morning sky, while office workers wandered through the revolving doors with steaming coffee cups in hand, chatting about deadlines and weekend plans. The steady hum of the city wrapped around the building like a comforting blanket. Car horns sounded in the distance, pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, and somewhere nearby, a bicycle bell rang.
It was all…normal. Painfully normal. If you hadn’t read the mission file with your own eyes, you would’ve walked past this place without giving it a second glance. A strange feeling settled in your stomach. Criminals hiding where no one would ever think to look.
“I was trying to compliment you.”
“I don’t need compliments.”
“…You really know how to suck the life out of a conversation.”
He hummed absentmindedly, as if he hadn’t even heard you. The silence returned. It stretched between the two of you, taut as a wire. Your gaze drifted back to the building.
“So…” You swallowed, trying to ignore the knot tightening in your throat. “We have to fight these guys, right?”
The question sounded much smaller out loud than it had in your head. This wasn’t training anymore. There wouldn’t be padded mats to cushion your falls. No wooden dummies that stayed perfectly still while you practiced, no Kouyou calmly correcting your stance, no nurse waiting around the corner if something went wrong.
Dazai looked at you like you’d asked the dumbest question imaginable.
“They’re trying to expose the Port Mafia.”
He slipped one hand into his coat pocket, his expression remaining frustratingly calm.
“What exactly did you think was going to happen?”
“I don’t know…” You muttered. “Maybe we’d interrogate them or—”
“Unless you believe they’ll suddenly have a moral awakening and confess everything out of kindness…”
His brown eyes turned cold.
The words hung in the air like winter frost. Matter-of-fact. Emotionless. As though discussing the weather instead of ending lives.
A chill crept down your spine. You knew what the Port Mafia did. You had known before you joined. But hearing someone say it so casually…It made your stomach twist.
Trying to hide your nerves, you stepped toward the front entrance. You barely managed two steps before a rough hand grabbed the back of your collar. The force jerked you backward so suddenly that your feet left the ground for half a second.
You stumbled into Dazai’s chest before catching yourself, your balance wobbling precariously.
You jerked your collar back into place, glaring up at him. His eyebrows were furrowed.
“Do you have some sort of death wish?”
"No?" You look at him, confused and offended. “I’ve never done this before, and that’s supposed to comfort me? You don’t have to be such a jerk about it!”
“No,” you snapped, crossing your arms, “you’re being an asshole.”
For a brief moment…Neither of you moved. The sounds of traffic filled the silence between you.
“We’re going in quietly.”
His voice had lost some of its bite. He tilted his head toward the side of the building.
“…That’s it? I thought you’d insult me at least three more times.”
A grin tugged at your lips despite yourself. You hurried after him, circling the back of the building where the cheerful sounds of the city gradually faded away. The alley was narrow.
Concrete walls boxed you in on either side.
Rusted pipes climbed the brickwork, and overflowing dumpsters sat forgotten in the corners.
The air smelled faintly of rainwater, rust, and old cardboard. Far above, fire escapes zigzagged toward the roof.
Dazai stopped beneath one of them.
“Did you expect an elevator?”
Without another word, he jumped. His hands caught the bottom rung effortlessly. With practiced ease, he pulled himself upward, climbing as though gravity had simply decided not to apply to him. You watched him disappear higher and higher.
Taking a deep breath, you jumped after him.
Your fingers barely wrapped around the metal rung.
Cold steel bit into your palms.
Your feet slipped against the wall.
This time, your muscles strained hard enough to make your arms tremble.
You managed to lift yourself onto the ladder.
“There you go,” Dazai called from somewhere above.
“I was beginning to think we’d be here all day.”
You continued climbing. Each rung made your shoulders burn.
Your breathing grew heavier.
The metal groaned softly beneath your weight. Halfway up, your hand slipped.
For one horrifying second, all you could think about was falling.
Your other hand tightened instinctively.
The ladder rattled violently before you caught yourself.
“You done trying to kill yourself?”
He was leaning casually against the rooftop ledge, looking down at you with complete indifference.
“Because you keep giving me reasons!”
A tiny puff of laughter escaped him. It was so quiet you almost thought you’d imagined it.
You blinked. You sighed dramatically, climbing the last few rungs fueled entirely by irritation.
Every muscle in your body screamed as you reached for the ledge.
With one final heave, you pulled yourself onto the rooftop before immediately collapsing onto your back.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Your arms felt like jelly.
“Did you seriously just fall because of climbing?”
He walked toward the center of the rooftop.
“The mission isn’t over before it’s begun.”
Still catching your breath, you forced yourself to your feet and followed him across the gravel-covered roof. The wind tugged gently at your clothes, carrying the distant cries of gulls from the harbor.
Dazai crouched beside a rusted metal hatch. He brushed dust from its handle before pointing toward it.
“We’re entering through here.”
The hatch looked old, its hinges stained orange with rust. It blended so well into the rooftop that you doubted anyone below even knew it existed.
Your palms suddenly felt clammy.
“This leads straight into their headquarters?”
“If our intelligence is wrong…”
He gave the hatch a firm tug.
“…then we’ll simply improvise.”
The rusty hinges groaned loudly as the hatch slowly swung open. A wave of stale, dusty air drifted upward from the darkness below.
You peered over the edge.
Your heartbeat quickened.
No more delaying the inevitable.
Dazai looked over his shoulder.
Before you could ask what he meant…
And disappeared into the darkness below.
You hurried to the opening, peeking inside.
You took one deep breath.
Before your courage could abandon you…
For one terrifying moment, all you felt was weightlessness.
The darkness swallowed you whole as you dropped through the hatch, the rush of air roaring past your ears. Your stomach lurched into your throat, and instinct made you brace for a painful landing. Your boots struck the floor with a dull thud.
You stumbled forward, one knee nearly buckling beneath you before you caught yourself on a nearby metal crate. Dust rose into the stale air, and you quickly straightened, your pulse pounding loud enough that you could hear it in your ears.
The room was dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights overhead. Their pale glow cast long shadows across rows of stacked boxes, filing cabinets, and desks littered with paperwork. It looked less like the headquarters of a criminal organization and more like an ordinary office after business hours.
Every head in the room snapped toward the two of you.
Around ten armed men stood scattered throughout the warehouse-like office, frozen in complete disbelief. Some had been sorting papers. Others were speaking quietly amongst themselves. One man still held a steaming cup of coffee that slipped from his grasp, shattering across the concrete floor with a sharp crack.
Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog.
You felt every eye lock onto you and Dazai.
Your heartbeat hammered violently against your ribs.
Your palms began to sweat.
Without a word, Dazai stepped forward.
As if he’d simply wandered into the wrong office by mistake.
The click of a handgun being cocked echoed through the room.
Every man present looked toward the source.
Dazai held the pistol loosely in one hand, the barrel aimed lazily toward the group before him.
His expression was unreadable.
“I suggest,” he said evenly, “that you surrender.”
Then laughter exploded through the room.
One man doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Another slapped his shoulder, tears beginning to form in his eyes.
“You think two kids are going to threaten us?”
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”
A broad-shouldered man stepped forward through the crowd, a crooked grin spreading across his face.
“And what exactly are you planning to do if we don’t?”
Your grip tightened unconsciously.
Surely he’d negotiate first.
The grin disappeared from the man’s face.
Something changed. It was subtle. Almost impossible to explain. It wasn’t just the look in Dazai’s eyes. It was the complete absence of emotion behind them.
His face became frighteningly blank.
Like every trace of humanity had been quietly erased.
His brown eyes resembled the surface of a frozen lake.
The room suddenly felt colder; the laughter died. Your own breath caught in your throat. You had never seen him look like this before.
It wasn’t even annoyance.
The kind that made your instincts scream at you to run.
The gunshot shattered the silence. It was deafening inside the enclosed room. The man’s head snapped backward. His body crumpled before anyone even realized what had happened. Blood splattered across the gray floor. His eyes stared blankly toward the ceiling.
Your stomach twisted violently. You’d seen dead bodies before. The Port Mafia wasn’t exactly gentle about hiding them. But witnessing someone die…Watching the life leave them in an instant…
The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air. Someone screamed. Another cursed loudly.
Chaos erupted. Weapons were drawn all at once. The metallic chorus of guns being cocked and knives being unsheathed echoed throughout the room.
Men rushed forward from every direction.
Your body moved before your mind caught up.
You dropped into the fighting stance Kouyou had drilled into you hundreds of times.
“Dazai,” you whispered harshly, your eyes darting between the advancing enemies.
“Couldn’t we have handled this a little differently?”
No answer. Not even a glance. His focus remained entirely on the people surrounding you. He looked…comfortable. As though this kind of violence was as ordinary to him as breathing. A chill crawled down your spine.
He’s done this countless times.
The realization settled uncomfortably in your chest.
A towering man suddenly broke away from the group.
“I’ll take the little one.”
His footsteps thundered across the concrete.
Each one shook the floor beneath you.
At the last second, you pivoted and drove your leg upward into a sharp kick aimed at his ribs.
His grip tightened painfully.
For a brief second, fear threatened to seize control.
Kouyou’s voice echoed inside your head.
“If your opponent controls one part of your body…use the rest.”
Without thinking, you stopped fighting against his grip.
Instead…You leaned into it. Throwing your weight backward. The man wasn’t expecting it. His own momentum carried him forward.
With a startled shout, he toppled over you, crashing shoulder-first into the concrete floor. The impact rattled the room. Before he could recover, you rolled. Your knees landed squarely against his back. Your fist slammed into the side of his face.
His elbow swung wildly. You ducked beneath it. Then drove your knee into his ribs.
A pained gasp escaped him.
You stood just enough to bring your boot down hard against his shoulder.
Each strike echoed louder than the last. Months of frustration poured into every blow.
Every harsh training session.
Every moment someone looked at you like you didn’t belong.
Your breathing became ragged.
The man finally stopped struggling.
His body went limp beneath you.
You froze. He wasn’t moving. Your chest rose and fell rapidly.
No. He was breathing. Just unconscious. Relief washed over you. Only for a second.
A gunshot rang out nearby. You whipped around. Dazai stood several feet away.
His shots were frighteningly precise. No hesitation. No wasted movement. Each pull of the trigger looked almost effortless. Like he’d practiced the motion thousands of times.
For the first time since the fight began—
His eyes briefly flickered toward the unconscious man at your feet.
There was something different in his expression.
A tiny crack in the wall he’d built around himself.
She actually handled herself…
The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it. Your movements hadn’t been perfect.
You hadn’t begged him to save you.
Exactly as Kouyou had trained you to.
The sound escaped him almost involuntarily. You barely noticed. Another attacker was already charging straight toward you.
The fight had only just begun.
The sharp whistle of something slicing through the air snapped your attention away from Dazai. You ducked on instinct.
A metal pipe swept over your head so closely that you felt the rush of air brush through your hair. Had you hesitated for even a second, it would’ve cracked against your skull.
The man wielding the pipe didn’t give you a chance to recover. With a furious shout, he swung again, forcing you backward. Metal slammed against the concrete where your feet had been only moments before.
Dust exploded into the air.
You stumbled, your boots scraping across the floor as you desperately searched for an opening.
“Don’t retreat in a straight line.”
Kouyou’s calm voice echoed through your mind as clearly as if she were standing beside you.
“If you only move backward, you’re letting your opponent control the fight.”
Instead of stepping back again, you sidestepped. The pipe came crashing down beside you. The man overcommitted.
You pivoted sharply on your heel, driving your elbow into his ribs with every ounce of strength you had. A grunt escaped him.
He recovered faster than you expected.
His free hand shot toward your throat.
His fingers wrapped around your neck.
Breathing became difficult.
Your back slammed painfully against a concrete pillar, the impact rattling your bones. The force knocked the air from your lungs as the man’s grip tightened.
“There you are,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Thought you were tougher than that.”
Your vision blurred around the edges. Your fingers dug frantically at his wrist.
Panic clawed its way into your chest.
Your knee shot upward. It connected squarely between his legs. The man’s eyes bulged. His grip loosened just enough. You twisted free, coughing violently as precious air rushed back into your lungs. Before he could recover, you drove your shoulder into his chest. The impact sent both of you sprawling across the floor. Pain shot through your side as you rolled, but you ignored it.
You couldn’t afford to stop.
Across the room, Dazai fired another shot. A man dropped before he could pull the trigger on his own weapon. He didn’t even spare the body a second glance. Another attacker rushed him from behind. Without looking, Dazai sidestepped.
The knife missed by inches.
Fingers wrapped around the attacker’s wrist. A sickening crack echoed through the room. The man’s scream was cut short by another gunshot. He collapsed instantly.
Dazai’s movements were frightening.
Every motion flowed seamlessly into the next.
It looked less like fighting…
Yet despite his precision…There were simply too many enemies. Three men broke away from the group and surrounded him from different angles. Even Dazai couldn’t watch every direction at once.
The third hung back, waiting for an opening.
He ignored you. Of course he did. His focus remained locked on the man in front of him.
The second attacker lunged.
Steel flashed beneath the fluorescent lights. You saw it before Dazai did.
Coming straight for his blind spot.
Your boots pounded against the concrete as you threw yourself toward him.
The knife plunged downward.
The blade buried itself deep into Dazai’s thigh with a sickening sound. His body jerked. A sharp grunt escaped him.
For the first time since you’d known him…His composure cracked.
The attacker yanked the knife free. Blood immediately soaked through Dazai’s dark trousers, spreading frighteningly fast.
Before dropping to one knee.
Everything inside you seemed to freeze.
Your voice barely came out above a whisper. The man who’d stabbed him lifted the knife again. A cruel grin spread across his face.
“Guess the famous demon prodigy’s not so untouchable after all.”
Something hot ignited inside your chest.
Your hand flew to the pistol resting against your hip. Dazai had insisted you carry one after your firearms training. You’d never fired it at a real person.
Your fingers wrapped tightly around the grip. The weapon suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
The attacker’s knife rose higher.
He was going to finish Dazai. You didn’t have time to hesitate. Your arms lifted almost on their own. Just like you’d practiced. Line up the sights. Control your breathing. Don’t jerk the trigger. Squeeze.
The gunshot thundered through the room. The recoil jolted your arms. For one terrifying second…You thought you’d missed. Then—
The knife clattered onto the floor. The man’s eyes widened in disbelief. A crimson stain spread across his chest. He looked down slowly. Then collapsed. Your ears rang. You stared. Your finger was still resting on the trigger.
You’d just shot someone. Really shot someone. Not a paper target, not a wooden dummy. A person.
Your stomach churned. There wasn’t time to process it. Another enemy charged. He slammed into you before you could react. Both of you crashed into a desk, sending papers flying into the air like frightened birds. The impact knocked your pistol from your hand.
It skidded several feet away. The man grinned. Without your weapon… He thought he’d won. He swung a punch toward your face. You barely managed to block it. Pain exploded through your forearms.
Each impact rattled your bones.
You couldn’t keep defending forever. Your back struck the edge of the desk. No room left. The next punch came.
Instead of blocking…You stepped inside his reach. Your forehead slammed into his nose. A loud crunch echoed through the room. The man cried out, stumbling backward. Blood poured between his fingers. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your own forehead, you dove for your pistol. Your fingers closed around it. Relief flooded through you. The man recovered faster than expected.
You swung. The heavy metal grip smashed against his temple. He crumpled instantly.
Sweat clung to your skin.
Your arms trembled from exhaustion.
You’d barely had a second to breathe since the fighting started.
Across the room, Dazai remained on one knee. One gloved hand pressed firmly against his bleeding leg. Dark red blood seeped steadily between his fingers. His breathing had become noticeably uneven.
He refused to look afraid.
His jaw remained clenched.
His expression unreadable.
Then another enemy rushed toward him. You reacted instantly.
You sprinted across the room, firing twice.
One bullet struck the man’s shoulder.
You threw yourself between him and Dazai.
The attacker swung a crowbar. You raised your forearm. Pain shot through your arm as metal connected with bone.
Ignoring it, you drove your knee into his stomach before slamming the butt of your pistol against his jaw.
Silence lasted only a heartbeat before more footsteps echoed through the room.
There were still enemies standing.
Your breathing came in ragged gasps as you tightened your grip on the pistol.
You glanced back at Dazai.
Blood continued to drip steadily onto the concrete beneath him.
“…Talk to me,” you pleaded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic rising in your chest. “How bad is it?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he tore a strip from the bandages wrapped around his arm and tied it tightly above the wound, his movements practiced despite the blood coating his hands. Only after pulling the makeshift tourniquet as tight as he could did he finally look up at you.
His voice was strained now, quieter than before.
He was making light of it. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to reassure you…Or simply refusing to admit how much pain he was actually in.
And neither of you could afford to fall. The room had become a battlefield.
The sharp scent of gunpowder hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic smell of blood until every breath tasted like rust. Splintered wood littered the floor where desks had been overturned, loose papers drifted lazily through the air like dying snowflakes, and the once orderly office had been reduced to chaos in only a matter of minutes. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered erratically, buzzing loud enough to set your teeth on edge.
Your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.
Every muscle in your body screamed.
Your forearm throbbed where the crowbar had struck it, your stomach still ached from the punch you’d taken earlier, and your forehead pulsed from where you’d headbutted the man only moments ago. You’d never been in a fight this long before. Training was exhausting.
This was something else entirely.
You barely had time to inhale before another man came barreling toward you. He was younger than the others, but far quicker. A combat knife gleamed in his hand as he closed the distance between you. Instinctively, you raised your pistol.
You pulled the trigger again.
You’d run out of ammunition. The realization hit you like ice water. The man grinned.
He spun the knife effortlessly between his fingers.
“Looks like your luck finally ran out.”
You backed away slowly, your mind racing. Reload. You needed to reload. Your shaking fingers reached toward the spare magazine clipped to your belt.
The man didn’t give you the chance.
The blade sliced through the air, forcing you to jerk backward. The knife missed your chest by inches. You could actually feel the wind it created brush against your uniform.
You threw yourself to the side.
The blade carved through the sleeve of your jacket instead, slicing the fabric open. A sharp sting bloomed across your upper arm. You hissed through your teeth.
Enough to remind you how easily that could’ve been your throat.
“Distance is your friend,” Kouyou’s voice echoed in your memory.
“A knife is only dangerous when it’s close enough to touch you.”
Your eyes darted around the room.
You grabbed it by one of its legs just as the man charged again.
The blade buried itself in the wooden seat instead.
Before the attacker could pull it free, you shoved the chair forward with all your weight.
You kicked the chair hard.
It slammed into his chest, knocking him backward into a filing cabinet.
Metal shrieked against concrete before crashing onto him with a deafening bang.
He disappeared beneath it.
You didn’t wait to see if he would. Your hands worked frantically to reload your pistol. Magazine out. Fresh one in. Rack the slide.
Just as Kouyou had drilled into you over and over again. Your breathing steadied ever so slightly.
You whispered to yourself.
A sudden gunshot echoed somewhere to your left. You whipped your head around.
One hand remained pressed against his wounded leg while the other held his pistol with the same unnerving steadiness as before.
But you noticed something that sent a fresh wave of worry through you.
His movements had slowed.
Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed.
There was the faintest hitch whenever he shifted his weight. His shots still landed. His aim was still flawless. But every movement cost him. Blood continued dripping steadily onto the floor beneath him. It left a crimson trail wherever he stepped.
He’s losing too much blood…
The thought lodged itself firmly in your mind.
“Will you stop pretending you’re invincible for one minute?”
“You are literally bleeding everywhere!”
“You say that like it’s something to be proud of!”
Instead…You shot the man trying to sneak up behind him.
The bullet struck the attacker’s shoulder, spinning him around before Dazai calmly finished him with a shot of his own.
You almost didn’t hear it.
“I think blood loss is affecting your hearing.”
Another enemy interrupted your argument by tackling you square in the ribs. The impact sent you sprawling across the floor. Your pistol slid from your grasp once again.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”
The man climbed on top of you, trying to pin your arms.
His forearm pressed hard against your throat. You struggled beneath him, but his weight kept you trapped. Air became harder to draw. Your vision began to blur.
You refused to lose like this.
Your hand searched desperately across the floor.
Your fingers brushed against something cold.
Without hesitation, you grabbed it.
The metal connected with the side of the man’s head.
You shoved him off, coughing violently as fresh air rushed back into your lungs. Everything hurt. You pushed yourself unsteadily to your feet. There were only three enemies left.
The remaining men exchanged nervous glances. Their confidence had vanished. The room no longer looked like an easy victory. Half their comrades lay unconscious.
One of the remaining men looked toward the exit.
He dropped before finishing the sentence.
Dazai lowered his pistol.
His face remained as blank as ever.
The final two men visibly flinched. For the first time since entering the building…Fear appeared on their faces.
One whispered under his breath,
Dazai’s expression didn’t change. If he’d heard it…He gave no indication. You, however, had. Your eyes drifted toward him. He looked exhausted. His breathing was uneven. Blood stained nearly half his pant leg.
He still stood straighter than anyone else in the room.
Like the wound was merely an inconvenience.
Like pain had become such a constant companion that he’d long since stopped acknowledging it.
Something about that made your chest ache.
No one should be that used to suffering.
The last two men charged together.
The other came straight for you. You tightened your grip on your pistol.
The remaining two men moved at the same time. One charged straight toward Dazai, a crowbar clutched tightly in both hands, his face twisted with desperation. The other sprinted toward you, letting out a furious yell as he raised his pistol. There was no confidence left in his eyes.
Cornered animals were often the most dangerous.
Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.
You dove to your left just as the trigger was pulled.
The bullet screamed past your ear. It struck the concrete wall behind you, spraying bits of stone across your face. Before you could recover, another shot rang out.
You rolled behind an overturned desk as splinters exploded from the wood. Your lungs burned from the sudden movement. He wasn’t giving you room to breathe.
You ducked lower as another bullet punched through the desk, only inches from your shoulder. Pieces of wood showered over you. Your cover wasn’t going to last much longer.
Across the room, Dazai was having his own problems.
The man wielding the crowbar swung it with everything he had.
Despite his injury, Dazai sidestepped. The crowbar crashed into the floor where he’d been standing. Concrete cracked beneath the impact.
Dazai would’ve already ended the fight.
But every dodge forced him to put weight on his wounded leg. His movements had become noticeably slower. The pain was catching up to him.
A cruel grin spread across his face.
“So the rumors aren’t true.”
“I thought the Port Mafia’s prodigy couldn’t be touched.”
Dazai’s eyes remained empty.
“…You’re talking too much.”
The bullet grazed his shoulder instead of hitting center mass.
It was the first shot you’d ever seen Dazai miss.
A faint crease appeared between his brows.
Another gunshot tore your attention away. The man shooting at you had circled your cover. You barely had time to throw yourself backward. The bullet shattered the edge of the desk where your head had been seconds earlier.
“You can’t hide forever.”
His voice trembled despite the threat.
“You Mafia dogs think you’re invincible.”
You tightened your grip around your pistol. Three rounds left.
The footsteps stopped. Silence. Your pulse quickened.
The man suddenly vaulted over the desk. You reacted purely on instinct. Your pistol came up.
The bullet struck his thigh. He cried out as his landing became clumsy. Before he could recover, you lunged forward.
Kouyou’s lessons echoed through your mind.
“Never give someone time to recover.”
You slammed your shoulder into his chest. The two of you crashed into the floor together. His pistol skidded away. He grabbed your wrist before you could raise yours.
Both of you struggled for control.
His hand shook violently as he forced your gun farther away from his face.
Your arms trembled beneath the pressure.
The barrel began turning toward you.
The muzzle pointed directly at your chest.
Fear clawed at your throat.
His finger tightened on yours around the trigger.
Just as it began to give—
A blur crossed your vision. The man’s weight suddenly disappeared. He was violently yanked backward. A sickening crack echoed through the room.
One hand had seized the attacker’s wrist. The other held the pistol pressed firmly against the back of his head. The man’s arm bent at an unnatural angle.
“…You were about to damage Port Mafia property.”
His voice remained perfectly calm. The attacker blinked in confusion.
Dazai looked toward you briefly.
Before the man could process the statement—
You remained frozen on the floor. Still trying to catch your breath.
“…You called me your trainee.”
“I don’t recall saying that.”
Despite the blood steadily dripping from his leg…Despite the exhaustion visible in every breath…A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. It vanished almost immediately.
So quickly you wondered if you’d imagined it.
Only one enemy remained. The man with the crowbar. He had witnessed everything. Every teammate, falling one after another. The room was silent now except for the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead and everyone’s labored breathing.
The man slowly backed away.
His grip on the crowbar loosened.
He looked at the bodies scattered across the office.
Fear swallowed every trace of confidence he had left.
Dazai tilted his head slightly. His expression never changed.
“…You were trying to destroy the Port Mafia.”
He took one slow step forward. Blood stained the floor beneath his foot.
“You should’ve expected retaliation.”
The man looked toward the exit.
Then back toward the two of you.
“He’s getting away!” you shouted.
He raised his pistol one final time. The shot echoed through the room. The fleeing man collapsed before reaching the doorway. The crowbar slipped from his hand with a metallic clang.
An eerie, suffocating silence settled over the ruined office.
Your pulse slowly began to calm.
Spent shell casings litter the concrete floor.
You let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.
Dazai lowered his pistol. For the first time since entering the building…His shoulders sagged. Just slightly. His face had gone noticeably paler than before. The adrenaline that had carried him through the fight was beginning to wear off. His wounded leg trembled beneath him.
His injured leg gave out completely.
Without thinking, you rushed toward him. Before he could hit the ground, you caught him beneath the arm.
His weight settled heavily against you.
Far heavier than you’d expected.
He let out a quiet hiss through clenched teeth as the sudden movement jarred his wound.
“You should be telling yourself that!”
You tightened your grip to keep him steady.
His blood was warm where it soaked through your sleeve.
You looked down at his leg. The bandages he’d tied earlier were almost completely crimson now. Panic surged through your chest.
Your voice came out much quieter than before.
“…We have to get you back to headquarters.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment before letting out a slow breath.
There wasn’t a sarcastic remark.
It was probably the closest thing to admitting weakness that Dazai Osamu had ever allowed himself.
You adjusted his arm over your shoulders.
He looked at you. There was the briefest flicker of resistance in his eyes.
His refusal to rely on anyone.
That was all he said before balancing once more.
Together, the two of you made your way toward the exit, leaving behind the wreckage of your first mission.
Outside, the afternoon sun shone as brightly as ever. People continued walking the streets, cars passed by, and children laughed somewhere in the distance. The city hadn’t stopped.
No one passing the office building would’ve guessed what had happened inside. Just another ordinary day in Yokohama. Only you and Dazai carried the weight of what had happened behind those walls.
The walk back to Port Mafia headquarters was painfully slow.
The adrenaline that had fueled you through the fight had long since faded, leaving behind nothing but aches you hadn’t noticed before. Every step sent a dull throb through your legs, and your bruised ribs protested each breath you took. Your knuckles were scraped raw, dried blood flaking against your skin whenever your fingers flexed.
You hadn’t realized how much your body hurt until the fighting stopped.
Beside you, Dazai limped.
His gait was uneven now, every third step noticeably shorter than the last. Although he tried to hide it, his injured leg occasionally buckled beneath him before he caught himself again.
The makeshift tourniquet had slowed the bleeding.
Dark crimson continued to seep through the strips of bandages tied around his thigh, staining the fabric of his trousers until it was almost black. You glanced at him for what felt like the hundredth time.
“…Are you sure you’re alright?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No, you avoided the question.”
“I don’t see the point in denying the obvious.”
You let out a tired sigh.
“Can you at least let me help you?”
“I am perfectly capable of walking.”
His next step proved him wrong. His injured leg gave a slight shake before he steadied himself.
“You shouldn’t have to recover.”
He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“It certainly isn’t pleasant.”
“…That’s your description?”
“I’ve experienced worse.”
Somehow…You believed him. Not because you wanted to. But because of how casually he’d said it. Like it wasn’t an attempt to sound tough.
The thought settled heavily in your chest.
How much has he been through…?
The question lingered in your mind, but you knew better than to ask. Dazai wasn’t someone who offered pieces of himself willingly. Trying to pry them loose would only make him retreat further.
The rest of the walk passed mostly in silence.
The streets of Yokohama bustled with life around you. Office workers laughed as they left buildings for lunch. Street vendors called out to passing customers. Somewhere in the distance, a train rumbled along its tracks.
No one spared the two of you more than a passing glance. To everyone else, you were just two people walking through the city. No one noticed the blood soaking into Dazai’s pant leg, no one noticed the bruises blooming beneath your sleeves, no one knew that, only minutes earlier, you’d fought for your lives. The normalcy of it all felt…strange.
When the towering black headquarters of the Port Mafia finally came into view, relief settled over you like a warm blanket. You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been until now.
The guards stationed outside immediately straightened upon seeing Dazai. One of them stepped forward.
His eyes flickered toward the blood.
“Do you require assistance?”
Dazai didn’t even slow down.
The guard opened his mouth as though to argue. Then thought better of it.
You offered the guard an apologetic smile before hurrying after Dazai. The familiar hallways of headquarters felt almost comforting now. Your footsteps echoed against the polished floors as the two of you made your way toward the infirmary. Employees stepped aside respectfully as Dazai passed. A few glanced toward the blood staining the floor behind him.
They’d likely seen worse.
Eventually, you reached the infirmary. The moment the nurse looked up from her paperwork, her expression shifted.
She was already moving, motioning toward one of the examination beds.
Dazai looked genuinely inconvenienced.
“You say that every time.”
“And every time it’s true.”
Despite his complaints, he lowered himself onto the bed. A quiet hiss escaped him as his injured leg bent. The nurse noticed. She didn’t comment. Instead, she carefully cut away the blood-soaked fabric around the wound.
The injury looked far worse than you’d realized. The knife had carved a deep gash through the outside of his thigh. Fresh blood welled from the wound despite the tourniquet. The skin around it was already beginning to darken with bruising.
The nurse glanced toward you.
“It missed the femoral artery.”
She spoke with practiced calm.
You looked back at Dazai. He didn’t appear lucky. He looked exhausted. His face had grown noticeably paler beneath the harsh infirmary lights, and although he remained silent, you noticed how tightly his jaw clenched whenever the nurse cleaned the wound. He wasn’t immune to pain. He simply refused to show it.
The nurse irrigated the cut thoroughly before reaching for a curved needle and surgical thread.
“This is going to sting.”
The first stitch pierced his skin. His fingers twitched almost imperceptibly. That was it. No cry. No grimace. Only that tiny twitch. Your chest tightened.
How is he sitting there so calmly?
The nurse worked efficiently, placing one stitch after another until the wound was neatly closed. When she finished, she wrapped fresh bandages firmly around his thigh before stepping back.
“No missions for at least a few days.”
Dazai looked genuinely offended.
“You have an injured leg.”
“I’ve had countless injuries over the past years.”
The nurse pinched the bridge of her nose.
“No running, no fighting, and certainly no ignoring the pain. Let it heal.”
He wasn’t even looking at the nurse; he seemed bored.
Dazai sighed sharply in response.
As the nurse finished writing notes on his chart, Dazai slowly stood. He tested his weight carefully this time. There was still a limp. But he remained upright.
ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ! ɪ'ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɢᴜʏꜱ! <3
