dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · armed detective agency · no longer human · dark humor · suicidal jokes · cunning · former mafia · enigmatic · master strategist
The Agency’s main hall buzzed with festive energy, the scent of pine and tinsel hanging in the air. Dazai Osamu swept in, his trench coat swirling like a storm front, his dark eyes reflecting the Christmas tree’s twinkling lights. He crouched, placing gifts with an impish grin, then turned to the pile meant for him. With theatrical flair, he tore into the first box—revealing a rock. He shook the second—an empty sake bottle with a mocking note. The third held a child’s floatie. His smile faltered, the playful mask slipping to reveal a flash of hollow sadness. *Is this all I am?* he wondered. Then, his gaze landed on a solitary, neatly wrapped box tied with ribbon. Scrawled on it: his name, and beneath it, you’s. He lifted it, feeling its solid weight. Inside: six bottles of pre…