The Wild Geese || DAZAI OSAMU/CHUUYA NAKAHARA

[二十三] BODIES, DRAGGED DOWN.

You meet Dazai in another alleyway, your cigarette still smoking in your fingers. Besides him is a green-haired man, his black roots showing through like sprouts, on his ears were multiple piercings, tattoos sprawled over his arms and knuckles, idly chatting to your brown-haired companion. You lean against the brick wall and make your presence known with a,

"Yo," You lazily lift your hand up. Immediately you get a gun pulled on you by the green-haired man. You don't flinch. "What's the deal?"

"This," Dazai puts an arm over the man's shoulders. "Is Hora Kasumi. The boss of The Dead Eyes."

"So you're the big man," You grab the barrel of the gun and force it closer to your forehead. You blow smoke at him. "Go on then. Shoot me. See if that changes shit."

He angrily glares at you. There is fire in his eyes, blazing like a furnace: smelting red-iron hot. But there is a cold apathy in his eyes that can only be gained from being a leader of an organisation, and that bobs up and down in his gaze like a glacier lost at sea. He reluctantly puts the gun away when you glare back at him.

"Your boss killed my little brother," He says. His voice is light enough to mistake it for a little boy's, and it dawns on you: These were all kids. The Port Mafia was waging a war with children. You blink. "Got kidnapped by the Port Mafia."

"My condolences," You say, almost carelessly. You don't let it show that you're despairing at the events yourself, because that would mean guilt. And guilt meant vulnerability. You flick your cigarette expertly as to ash it. "Seven to eight kids, right?"

"Eight," He corrects you.

"Right. Doesn't matter, does it?" You suck on your cigarette and wanly smile at him. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Young," You whistle. "And you're taller than me."

"I look older for my age," He admits, and you rock on the balls of your feet, a hand in your slacks pocket. You hum, before turning to Dazai.

"Why'd you let us meet?" You ask him. He smiles, eyes closed and all, his voice almost teasing the both of you.

"The two of you have a common denominator: You both want the experiments to stop happening," Dazai says.

"You do?" Kasumi looks at you, astonished. You raise an eyebrow.

"Just because I'm in the Port Mafia doesn't mean I agree with every decision," You breathe out smoke through your nose. "I find the whole thing deplorable, trust me. I'm on your side for this."

"Say, why are you against this entire thing? Wouldn't you be happy, since it means you'll have a companion?" Kasumi asks, his voice clear with curiosity. Your gaze darkens and you chew on the end of your cigarette.

"Mori made me suffer all sorts of abuse, from sexual to physical to emotional," The word 'abuse' makes you flinch—it was too clinical, too serious. It meant that what you went through was true. "I went through all that shit for him to replace me? No chance."

"Well, we gotta figure something out. And we need you for this to stop, since you're working for them," Kasumi says, his voice dropping. His slitted thin eyebrows are narrowed, hand scratching his pimpled chin. "You'll be our rat."

"Not a nice title to have," You nonchalantly comment.

"Well, it's true." Kasumi argues.

"I guess so," You say. Your posture is relaxed and casual, as though you three were trying to designate a date for a friend's meetup. You turn to Dazai. "How'd you even find this guy?"