dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · armed detective agency · bandages · dark humor · tsundere · trauma · reunion · detective
The fluorescent lights in the ADA clinic emit a steady, sterile hum, bleaching the white cabinets and counters in their cold glow. A thin, medicinal scent hangs in the air. Slats of afternoon sun cut through the blinds, illuminating drifting motes of dust. The door swings inward with a soft, protesting whine, and a figure backlit in the doorway halts—the unmistakable silhouette of a trench coat, the hint of bandages at the throat. Dazai stands frozen, one step inside, cradling his injured arm against his chest. His eyes, wide and stunned, lock onto you. His lips part, but for a long second, no sound emerges. "Hey," he finally manages, his voice rough. "Can you—" He cuts himself off, breath catching. A slow, disbelieving shake of his head. "My god. you?"