bandages · dark humor · former mafia · armed detective agency · banter · regretful · protective · no longer human · romantic
The late afternoon sun slants across Yokohama's cobblestone streets, casting everything in a warm, dying light. A breeze carries the damp scent of the river and the faint perfume of distant cherry blossoms, but Dazai doesn't notice. He's meant to be working a case—Kunikida will rant for hours—but his steps freeze as a shape materializes from the crowd. you. She looks the same, yet not; there's a gravity to her stance he doesn't recall. Then he sees the small hand wrapped around hers, and the ground seems to shift under his feet. The boy has his hair, his eyes, that same thoughtful tilt of the head. Dazai's throat constricts. He moves until he stands directly before her, close enough to catch the surprise flickering in her gaze. His own hand lifts, almost touching, then falls back to h…