𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

Dazai | The Mystery

So I started this off with a prompt and it ended up being 2k words... I apparently don't know how to just write a oneshot. It has been a while. So here is what seems like the first chapter of a fic that is never going to happen.
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The sun is high in the sky, shining down onto the blistering concrete of the sidewalk. You had only wanted to go out and get lunch because the Port Mafia's kitchens had seemed to be bare. Lacking anything that would fill you for the next few hours. You ate at a small restaurant, filling up and thanking the waitress who had kept you company during your meal. The place had been empty so she hadn't anything better to do.

You were observant of your surroundings, well you had thought yourself to be. So you took immediate notice when a pair of footsteps could be heard behind you. Then after turning some questionable directions the two still seemed to be pursuing you. You knew you were being followed, but by who? You questioned. It wasn't like you were a well-known member of the mafia. You weren't even close to the infamous Gravity Manipulator, the Mafia's Dog, or even the Black Lizard. In fact, there was a large difference between you and the individuals previously mentioned.

You lacked a skill. You didn't have a special ability at your side, giving you an upper hand over normal people. It is hard working in a field that people with those abilities thrive within. They get all the glory and recognition, while you are simply seen as a goon, a trained soldier to be ordered around and thrown out if deemed fit. Some people cared about the lower-ranked members more than others, like executive Chuuya he tries his best to know everyone he is in charge of even if it is just their names. But some like Akutagawa couldn't care less about people lower than him.

You joined the mafia young, you had been rescued by an executive. One day while you were talking with your parents, a cloudy afternoon, rain on the horizon. Your home was raided. Your father was an information broker and had sold information to the wrong people. You were taken by these people, arms held behind you as you struggle, and the last thing you heard your mother say was, "Fuck, what did you do F/N?!". Your father couldn't even get a word in before shots were heard, your eyes streamed tears as you scream and shout for them to release you.

You had been taken to their headquarters and held there for what felt like months. But it ended up only being a week or so before you heard gunshots ringing throughout the building, shot after shot. It seemed to be endless along with the screams. You sat trembling on the mattress they had given you in your cell, knees to your chest and arms wrapped around them. The noises stopped when a group of men walked into the room where your cell was located, a puddle of red could be seen growing at the bottom of the doorway as it opened. "Sir, we've got a person in one of the cells." one of the men spoke into his mic, "Female, looks like a prisoner, hostage maybe?" he continued before ending with a, "yes, sir.".

The man simply left the room, leaving you alone once again. You couldn't help but feel the urge to call him back and beg for him to release you. Time began to stand still as you wondered if someone was going to save you. You wondered if you would die in the cell alone. If someone would even care enough to check once again behind a single door, to find you. Your lifeless eyes dared to shed tears as you hoped to be saved. Only then did the door open, revealing a dark figure, a long coat, and short hair. The light from the hallway blacked out the features on his face. As he approached he became more visible, a frown on his bandaged face. Neatly worn suit, pitch black trench coat draped over his shoulders.

He stops just outside the door of your cell, kneeling to your level. He gives you a weak smile. "Now, what's your name?", he asks while gripping a bar for support. You remain silent, simply observing his actions. He takes notice of your silence and speaks up again, "You wouldn't happen to be an L/N? Would you?". You take a sharp breath as your last name was spoken by the brunet. He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, "It seems I'm right. Well L/N, we are here to help. You see these people killed your parents, well you probably know that, seeing as you are here. Your father worked for us, he was actually a good source of information, it's shame he's no longer with us," he frowns and stands up.