Little Doll (Mafia!Dazai x reader)

(C. 10) Porcelain

TW: implied pedophilia. We're getting into it now guys.

----

A few weeks, about a month, had passed since the incident of Y/n fainting in the training room. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them to avoid contact for a while. Both she and Dazai knew that the recent incident would, at the very least, mean more surveillance on the girl. Dazai could have sworn he even heard Mori's voice coming through the door of the room she trained in once or twice. The Port Mafia's boss never attended training sessions. Dazai was careful not to mention any of this to Chuuya who, since the day he had witnessed the gentleness Dazai was capable of, would not stop asking questions about the girl.

Dazai didn't feel the need to be skillful with his subordinate. Whenever Chuuya asked a question, he did not even try to dodge it. Ignoring the red head's curious words worked well enough and, as Dazai had hoped would happen once Chuuya realized his queries would get him nowhere, they had become less and less frequent. Whereas before, Dazai couldn't go an hour with his subordinate without having to give him the silent treatment, now he was lucky to be asked about Y/n more than once every other day.

The seasons were changing. Spring was giving way to summer, much to Dazai chagrin. He had never been one for the warmer months, preferring the comfort cold provided by requiring heavy clothes. Considering his own distaste, he found his mind wandering to Y/n. What was her favorite season and why? More importantly, why did he care? Why did he want to know? It was an inconsequential thing to know about a person, their favorite season. There was nothing really to be gained from information like that. Sure, Dazai had heard of ability users who were more adept in certain climates but, as far as he knew, Y/n was just a normal person. This thought, of course, then begged the question about why she was so set on joining the mafia as an official member.

As far as Dazai could tell, the only thing that made Y/n suited for such a job was her comfortability around the sight of blood. That itself came from years at the clinic however, and Dazai knew first hand the differences the blood of battle presented when faced with the blood of the aftermath. He had always thought her to be rather frail, Mori's little doll. Nothing more and nothing less. Even after beginning to train, especially after he had seen her faint, he questioned her capabilities. Y/n was not suited for this life, Dazai was certain of it. She was too...

Soft wasn't the right word. There was nothing soft about her, all bones and venom that simmered just below the surface of her silver tongue. It was like she really was a doll, made of porcelain, made of finest china. If someone dropped her, she would shatter into a million tiny pieces. All that would be left was the glass of her eyes, he was sure of it. So why did she want this so badly?

Mori had kept Y/n safe. Dazai knew her life had its downsides: she couldn't choose what she wore and Mori restricted her food intake. Other than that, it was quite a comfortable life she led. A life many others would kill to have for themselves. Besides that, she'd been with the man since she was eight, he had practically raised her. Stuck between thoughts of why she would want to escape such a cushy life and whether Y/n could remember her real father, Dazai's mind shifted again.

A girl like that wouldn't last five minutes in a real fight. Even if she trained, worked her hardest, became truly very skilled, she would still be up against formidable enemies. Even if she achieved anything, Dazai knew the people she would be up against on missions would have trained longer, harder, more adeptly. There were people in the world who had spent their lives at what she was only now beginning to dip her foot into, and Dazai knew from experience that most of the ones not in the Mafia themselves, were the Mafia's enemies.

How many of the jobs the Mafia carried out involved other gifted people? The job was dangerous for anyone to be sure, but for non-gifted members? One's who hadn't grown up on the streets or training or anything at all? Joining the Mafia as a field agent was a death sentence. He had seen it with his own eyes.

A new thought ushered the old one out. Dazai had always been obsessed with ideas of creation, since before he could remember. His whole reason for seeking his own death was to learn what sort of thing could be born from such a loss. Maybe, just maybe, he began to think, Y/n was like that too. Maybe she had a death wish, same as him. Maybe, that was her plan.

Dazai was so lost in the maze of his own thoughts that he almost walked right past the door to her room. Backtracking a few steps, he crouched down and put his ear to the door as usual. At first, there was no sound but after a few moments, just as he was about to stand up and pick the lock, there came the faint noise of someone talking.

The wood of the door was thick and the voice was muffled. Dazai couldn't tell what the person was saying or even who they were. All he could tell was that the voice belonged to a man. Assuming it must be Mori, for who else would be allowed in her inner sanctum at such a time, Dazai retreated to his hiding place from the very first night he had visited the girl. Sheathed in shadows, he was determined to wait his boss out and speak to Y/n. He needed to get to the bottom of this, understand what it was Y/n was running from or towards. There was no other course of action in his mind.

It was a long time before Mori at last exited the room. So long that there had been some points Dazai had thought just to enter with him being there, really stir up some trouble. If nothing else, such a course of action would at least be entertaining. For all he knew, it might even get him killed. Staving off temptation, he had waited.

Mori exited the room carefully and quietly around three in the morning. Dazai rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, relief rushing through his veins, as he watched the man disappear down the hallway. Dazai waited fifteen minutes after his footsteps had faded out of earshot, and then he couldn't wait any longer. Eagerly, he pulled himself from his hiding spot and stole his way into her room.

When he entered, all the lights were off. Gingerly, Dazai shut the door behind him, approaching the bed where Y/n lay. The faint moonlight streaming through her window illuminated a form under the comforter of her bed. He was determined to wake her, to get his answers. He didn't care about anything else.

As he reached the bed, Y/n let out a light grumble in her sleep and rolled over. Her movements caused the blanket, which had previously been snug up against her chin as she laid on her back, to shift. It slipped gently from her shoulder and she snuggled her head into the pillow, settling down again. The cool silver light of the moon bounced off her bare shoulder.

Dazai stopped in his tracks, the light revealing to him that beneath the covers, she was probably not wearing anything. He felt his cheeks grow warm, storing the uncontrolled reaction in some dark recess of his brain to consider later on. There was what seemed to be a bruise visible around her throat, in the shape of a hand. He realized now the reason she was forced to wear so many of those high-necked dresses.

Dazai stood there, staring at the sleeping girl for a few moments, his mind reeling with all the new information. Without asking any questions at all, he seemed to have gotten the answers he was looking for from the small girl. Gently, he reached forward, pulling the blanket back up over Y/n's bare shoulder. Still asleep, she instinctively reached up and grabbed it, pulling it tight under her chin and snuggling into it.

He left in the same silence with which he had entered, careful not to let the door make a sound on his way out.

Mori's little doll.