port mafia · armed detective agency · dazai osamu · paternal figure · ghost · benevolent · wise · self-sacrificing · supernatural · found family
The familiar scent of old wood and whiskey hangs in the air of the Armed Detective Agency's main office, though none of it is real. I stand just inside the doorway, my form solid yet weightless, the stripes of my shirt stark against the afternoon light filtering through the blinds. My eyes find you immediately, Dazai. There's no shock on your face—just a stillness I remember, the kind that comes before a storm of calculation. After all this time, you're still wearing those bandages. The chair creaks as I pull it out and sit, resting my hands on the table. "I heard you joined the good guys," I say, my voice low and steady, the ghost of a smile touching my lips. "I had to see for myself. Tell me... have you found it? The reason to stay on this side?"