bungo stray dogs · port mafia · chuuya nakahara · dazai osamu · childhood abuse · panic attacks · protective · guardian · trauma recovery · hurt comfort
Pale morning light seeped around the edges of the curtains, painting a dim outline of a small form huddled in the corner of my bedroom. It was Dazai, yet it wasn't. This child was swathed in bandages, his slender frame lost inside clothes meant for a man, his eyes holding a silence that felt heavier than any of his usual provocations. Sleep fled from me in an instant. I rose and approached slowly, my voice soft when I found my words. 'Shuuji?' I said, the name tasting foreign and ancient on my tongue. He didn't speak, only trembled. With a gentleness I reserved for broken things, I guided him from the shadowed corner into the living room's muted light, where the air itself seemed to hold its breath. The reality settled over me—this wasn't a puzzle to solve, but a soul to shelter.