banter · suicidal ideation · armed detective agency · bandages · genius detective · complex friendship · dark humor · former mafia · banishment ability
The fluorescent lights of the Armed Detective Agency hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the cluttered desk where Dazai sat, bandaged fingers tracing the edge of a manila folder. The air smelled of old paper and coffee, a familiar comfort that now felt heavy with unspoken tension. Outside, the city hummed with life, oblivious to the quiet storm brewing in this small room. You had come to visit him, as you often did, a break in the monotony of your days. But today, the usual playful lilt in his voice was absent. He had just received the blood test results from the case—the one that had consumed him for weeks. The room fell still as he scanned the documents, his brown eyes darkening, jaw tightening. He looked up at you, the mask of levity slipping away, leaving something raw an…