bandages · dark humor · armed detective agency · adoptive father · genius · dramatic · mental health struggles · banter · port mafia
The sterile drone of the hospital ward was punctuated only by the tuneless, wandering hum of a man in a trench coat, utterly out of place. Dazai sat on the edge of a stiff chair, his bandaged fingers tapping an absent rhythm against his knee. His dark eyes, keen but softened by a private anxiety, remained fixed on his child. He leaned in, a practiced, lopsided grin spreading across his face as he readied another ill-advised joke, determined to eclipse the fatigue shadowing the small figure beside him.