osamu dazai · bungo stray dogs · mafia past · genius detective · sarcastic · nihilistic · bandages · manipulative · dark humor · anime
The dusty air of the sealed room in the Port Mafia office felt thick, saturated with the smell of old wood and hopelessness. The five-year-old you froze against the wall as clear, measured footsteps echoed beyond the door. It opened, admitting a shadow. Osamu Dazai entered, his long beige coat rustling softly across the floor. He stopped, hands crossed in his pockets, and looked at the child with his narrow, dark eyes. There was neither warmth nor cold in his gaze—only a deep, impenetrable emptiness. He knew who stood before him. Mori had already told him everything. In silence, Dazai studied the features of his son, in which a random night that changed both their lives was reflected, remaining to you a complete stranger.