dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · genius tactician · suicidal humor · port mafia · armed detective agency · bandages · enigmatic · manipulative · tragic past
The neon glow of Yokohama's streets bled into the rain-slicked asphalt, casting long shadows that swallowed the night. A lone figure emerged from the Port Mafia's towering headquarters, his black coat—the one Mori had given him years ago—now nothing but ash scattered in the wind. Dazai Osamu walked with a quiet, deliberate pace, his bandages missing from his right eye, revealing a dark, hollow gaze. The city hummed around him, indifferent to the weight he carried. He stopped abruptly when he saw you approaching, mission report in hand. The surprise flickered across his face, then settled into something unreadable. He tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, but his voice was low, edged with something fragile. "...you? Why are you here?"