Red; Blood and Love | Dazai X Reader

Turned

The mafia; the darkness in the world where few could truly prosper. The underworld held many secrets, many murderers, many sociopaths, and heartless demons. Though it also held within its grasp many people who wished for the light when all they could remember was the darkness. Those who tried to escape often lacked the will to or were caught and executed. Once you stepped into the darkness, the light had no place for you. Escaping becomes even harder when you reach the rank of an executive. The unkind world becomes darker, and people no longer whisper sweet things about you.

A heavy sigh left their lips, a mafia executive with many regrets and sorrows tipped their head back. Rain dropped around them, like small thumbtacks, the water collapsed to the ground with little splats. The scent of rain consumed the atmosphere while the sun lay locked away behind clouds that showed no sign of releasing it from its confines. The weather may be unpleasant to many, but the harsh beam of the light faded on these gloomy days. Perhaps it was the peace of mind the thought gave them that let the world feel so much more pleasant.

Their feet slid over the ground, heavy, parting the puddles that formed along the dips in the ground. Behind them, like wolves following their pack leader, stood a few nameless mafia members. They did not wear distinctive clothing as they did. Their clothes consisted of black suits and ties. Even their eyes were covered with dark-toned glasses, guns held in their hands as they followed behind the executive. They wore clothes fit for royalty, specified to their style, though darkly colored to fit the mafia's ways. They ran a hand through their hair, trying to give the dampening strands a bit of life.

The warehouse seemed completely abandoned as they walk in. This job hadn't seemed executive-worthy at first glance, but the beakers, syringes, and other assorted silvery items provided unneeded heaviness to the air. This was supposed to be nothing more than a small mission, taking out some petty thieves who had managed to kidnap a few useless men. Their eyes fluttered shut with annoyance as they looked around. Their gloved hand ran over the tables, which proved to have been abandoned for at least a week. The dust collecting on them framed the proof for that. "We won't be finding much here." Their voice, bland of feeling almost reminiscent of an exhausted 9-5 worker, broke apart the fabric of silence. With uneasy eyes, the mafia extra's nodded, ready to turn and leave before something groaned. The creaking wood froze up the inexperienced, but inflated dread to those who had hoped to be getting out of this without much work. Others still hopeful they would be allowed to sit back as the executive took care of things. An obvious look of annoyance overtook their face as they slid their gloves off. Letting gravity drop it to the floor. Their other hand grabbed the hilt of a knife. They pricked their finger slightly, letting blood dribble down their hand. Their ability began to pulse within their veins as they stood on guard. When a figure moved near the window to an estimated degree of 60 and a distance of 157 centimeters, they darted forward. With an assassin's trained limbs, they slit a small cut on the figure. When their blood mixed with the unfortunate soul who tried sneaking up on the group, it became too late. Their ability, crimson rain, taking hold over the person. Their limbs no longer belonged to them as the executive smiled, moving their arms to make the human puppet obey them. "Who are you?" They did not move their face to form an expression. Looking dully at the man who glared. Slowly, they began to twist the blood running in the poor man's body. Their limbs begin to tug apart. "I ask again, or you'll lose your arm."

Wide panic overtook them as they blurted they were a researcher on special case abilities. Those words never sat well with the executive. They knew such people to be monsters. They made inhuman beings out of humans. They took the hope of seeing the light, of living within it, from the grasps of children. They took away their hopes and their dreams. They had it all taken from them when they were about nine, just beginning to see the world. Escaping the abusive household into freedom. They had hoped to be an artist of some sort back then. Those dreams had been crumbled and torched by men and women in white coats. As much as the poor researcher begged and choked out sobs, they took no sympathy. Breaking them limb from limb, leaving them to bleed out. The executive slid their glove back on with a delighted hum. Reaching their arms up in a stretch.

They had all the information they could have needed to discover why they took Mafia, members. It's a pity that they chose such lowly ranked members. Perhaps they could have seen their downfall coming had they gotten somebody who knew real information on the abilities of the Port Mafia. Flexing their back in a stretch to work the kinks away, they left their neck wide open. No natural human could have seen the speed the dart spun at. As the needle pierced their tender skin, above a choker they wore to mimic a close friend, they hissed and yanked it free from their neck. Mapping the projectile out in their head. Their hand grabbed a gun as their vision became spotted. Whatever had hit them seemed to be strong. Strong enough that even their ability couldn't cancel its effects fast enough to prevent the darkness from consuming them. Their gun pointed, shaking in the direction of whoever had shot the thing. Once the trigger pulled, they dropped the gun, letting it bounce off the wood in a loud clack, though its volume should have been greater.

They stumbled forwards trying to move their body. With a small blink to clear their spotted vision, they found their body hitting the cement. The numbness pooling over their body went without surprise. They were glad for it, not having to feel the sting of falling full force on the wooden boards of the floor. A few of the men and women in standard black blotches surrounded her with their guns outstretched.

~

It's not every day an executive gets the day to themselves. Normally, he and his friend, who happened to be an executive like him, would be out on missions all day. It was rather unusual for only one of them to be out on a mission. They were usually the one who kept him from being reckless. So when his phone rang, he wasn't ready to be called into work. Certainly more unprepared to go to the aid of his friend. His body carried him there faster than lightning rushing into the building. Stopping bullets that attempted to stop him. There had even been a small dart that he'd nearly let slip past his defenses. It took less than two minutes to find them surrounded by shooting guns. Some unlucky fellows already dropped dead. Chuuya sighed easily, solving the skirmish, and anybody else in that room, unrelated to the mafia, dropped dead. The sea of black parted for him, letting him toward the unconscious executive. Somebody within the unnamed mafia members explained the situation and anger boiled up. He searched for a pulse, relieved when he found their heart was still beating at a normal pace. Lifting their body was no hard task for Chuuya. He carried them bridal style until a large thud sounded from below his feet. Just about to exit the building, he glanced down at the pile of clothes he held. Confusion was evident in his eyes until he glanced to the floor. Quickly dropping the clothes, he stared down. The small mafia executive, the Crimson puppeteer, as many called them, sat as a simple child. They slept despite hitting the ground so harshly. Chuuya swung his jacket from his shoulder, wrapping his jacket around them with a groan. "So your dumb-ass got affected by an ability. You're as reckless as ever Y/n." Chuuya rolled his eyes, the paperwork for this was going to be disastrous.