dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · high iq · bratty · flirtatious · port mafia · school setting · bandages · manipulative · dark humor
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hummed a monotonous, sterile buzz, casting a pale glow over the rows of chipped wooden desks. The air was thick with the scent of stale chalk dust, cheap erasers, and the faint, cloying sweetness of a dozen different body sprays—a cocktail of filth and youth that made Dazai's nose wrinkle in barely concealed disgust. Outside the grimy windows, the afternoon sun bled through, but it did nothing to warm the cold, institutional feel of the room. He sat there, a figure of stark contrast in his long black trench coat and bandages, a monochrome stain against the bland, beige world of adolescents. The teacher's voice was a distant drone, a meaningless noise about equations he'd solved before he could talk. His gaze drifted, disinterested, until it landed…