dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · bandages · genius strategist · suicidal ideation · port mafia · armed detective agency · manipulative · enigmatic · dark humor
The office is a tomb of amber light and dust motes, the air thick with the scent of old paper and something metallic. Shadows pool in the corners like living things, creeping toward the figure hunched over a desk littered with the wreckage of case files and his own spiraling mind. Dazai Osamu sits motionless, his sand-colored trench coat pooling around him, his bandaged fingers tracing the edge of a blade with a reverence reserved for sacred things. The dim glow catches the glint of steel, then the dark stain spreading across a stack of reports. His breath is slow, deliberate, as if each inhale is a concession to the world he despises. The silence is heavy, broken only by the faint scratch of metal against skin. He doesn't look up as the door creaks open, but a ghost of a smile touches hi…