Port Mafia's UA student

Three

Dazai happily collapses onto the bed in the apartment. There were parcels all around when he got here; his clothes, personal belongings, and food that he probably will never even touch again after putting them away in the available cupboards and the fridge.

It was already looking decent. A desk occupied a corner of the room, beside the bed, and on the wall above said desk is a bulletin board from his old room. A small closet was by the door; the insides were pretty sparse. A medium-sized box full of medical items, a few clothing pieces folded and placed neatly on the inner shelves, and one to four jackets with his trench coat on hangers.

The folder Mori gave him was on top of his laptop on his desk along with a binder notebook and some pens. Dazai groaned, realizing that he had to butter up and start learning all about the students that he had to take care of starting tomorrow.

Dazai yawned.

That's it, that's the paragraph. Yay.

Dazai walked out on the streets, wondering if ever was there something to do. Hm.

Chuuya did teach him how to make weapons like knives and daggers but he didn't have anything right now and he'd rather not burn his apartment down. A plus that he didn't really feel hungry. So let's just fuck around for tonight and go patrol of something.

Dazai nodded to himself proudly and ducked into an opening between two buildings and was too narrow be called an alleyway. Maybe I'll buy some candies for Ranpo-nii. Fuck Fyodor-san, he can buy his by himself. He probably has some already, but he won't complain. Fyodor may claim him as a little brother but Dazai never claimed him back so the older brother title he has is null.

He scaled the brick wall with ease, courtesy of his alarmingly light body and how fucking thin he was, and took a small fifteen second break on the edge of the roof before standing up and admiring the much more modern (yet for Dazai, a cold feeling of unfamiliarity greatly unsettled him, leading him to dislike the place) theme the city took. Yokohama opposed with an old and 90's type of style. (And instead had a warm homey feeling added with the reassurance of every nook and corner being known to the Soukoku)

Dazai set to work learning everything he could right now about his surroundings, especially taking note of void and abandoned-looking buildings, alleyways, and bars, while committing to memory the melodies of gossip about small time gangs and an infamous League of Villains that the wind has taken to him.

Pulling on his coat was a warm and gentle breeze that continued to jostle the brunette's head. It was like the city itself was playing a horrible mind game on one of the Mafia's few masterminds. Yokohama's wind would feel much better than the broken pieces of breeze you have, you damned city.

Dazai felt like crawling into a hole and dying of starvation instead. In front of him was Aizawa Shouta, Eraserhead. The little mistake of relaxing had led the boy to be immediately attacked by gray and rough bandage-like material, and he did not like it one bit. Even in his homeplace Dazai did not let go of at least a bit of caution.

His mind was overrun with strategies and his shoulders tensed. The blade in his sleeve was something Dazai was suddenly very aware of. The second I cut this, the more that man will be suspicious of my motives, and if I let him take me, it could go in two ways. Suspicion or trust.

Dazai never took thins long to think. Fyodor would suddenly be a very good brother in this situation, though I'm 90% sure he's slaughter the hero population bit by bit so nevermind.

The blade was slowly slipping down from his cuffs. He stood stock still. It would be bad for the blade to catch on his bandages, and if he moved too much Aizawa would no doubt act.

"So, uh, hey?"

"Why are you out?"

Aizawa got over his little period of freaking out a bit took quickly for Dazai's tastes. "Ah, just checking the city out~ I like knowing the best places to take refuge in, and how I can avoid clashes like this;" Dazai said, referring to his body entangled in tear-resistant cloth.

The scarves slipped off and retracted back to Aizawa's neck. Dazai grinned. "Anyways, you seemed to have a lot of questions when we first met; I'll answer them as much as I can."

Aizawa shifted uncomfortably. "Soukoku, right? Double Black. Where's your partner?"

His grin morphed into a soft yet cunning smile. "In another mission. Mori said he'll be sent over as a transferee once he's done."

"Have you taken lives before?"

"Yeah duh."

"...do you regret it?"

"No comment."

Aizawa's hand formed into a fist. Dazai stiffened, ready to dodge; Aizawa's fist did not release, nor did it move.

The barrage of questions continued until Aizawa was satisfied and Dazai was tired. A few blocks away was a small candy store.

Might as well buy candies for me and Ranpo; maybe an apple or two for Fyodor. Dazai dropped down as silent as he can and blended back into the night's crowds.

So much for going on a patrol.

The peach candies were absolute godsend, and the large bag of chips, sweets, ramune and pocky should be enough for Ranpo not to whine all too much. A smaller bag filled with six apples rested on top of Ranpo's snacks.

Dazai chewed on a crabstick mindlessly while he walked down the streets. (He felt like someone was watching his every move, he couldn't breathe-) The lights were blinding and his now-uncovered eye throbbed painfully. (no. no weaknesses.)

The blade rubbed against his ruffled bandages (tantalizingly) threateningly. Dazai sighed. (He supposed it wouldn't hurt to cave.)

(Just one day)

I'm sorry Chuuya. Promises are just words we pile our trust on.

The pink water slipped down the drain as few crimson drops bit the floor while he wrapped himself up. (why is breaking this promise always so messy)

Chuuya won't know.

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HAHA sorry, I was bombarded with tests and genshin lol-