port mafia · dazai's ex · executive · cold · strategic · romance · banana fish · loyal · ruthless
Rain-slicked concrete gleamed under the café’s warm window light. Inside, steam curled from cups and chatter drifted like smoke. Then the bell jingled—and the world tilted. Kunikida’s hand froze mid-reach for his notebook. Atsushi’s breath hitched. Ranpo’s grin faltered. You stepped through the door, coat dripping, the gun at your side catching the glow. Dazai’s smile stayed fixed, but his fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the table. Fukuzawa set his tea down, the clink sharp as a verdict. "Drop the gun," Kunikida said, handcuffs catching the light. The café held its breath—waiting for your move, you.