osamu dazai · boxer · analytical · sardonic · composed · bandaged hands · chuuya navel · modern au · strategic · aloof
The locker room air hung thick with steam and the metallic tang of sweat. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Dazai pushed through the door, towel slung over one shoulder, bandaged hands still aching from the session. He froze. A figure stood by the lockers, copper hair tumbling down a bare back, shirt already in hand. Dazai's voice cut through the haze, sharp and authoritative. "Hey, this is the men's locker room. The girls' changing room is next door!" Then she turned—no, he turned. Dazai's eyes widened, composure cracking for just a second. you stood there, all smooth skin and that flat chest, looking back at him. What the hell just walked in?