To conduct the singing misfortune [Dazai and Reader]

Illness II

Dazai left the restaurant for the Port Mafia's headquarters. The building pierced the city's skyline, and no matter how far from it I was, it towered over me. It made navigating the city easier. A petite sweets shop a few streets from the restaurant lies hidden in a mess of alleys, residential buildings, and bankrupt business firms. But I could find my way there if I followed the direction of the skyscraper as if it were an arrow. For a crime organisation, it was incredibly noticeable, a showmark of how much power the Mafia held over this city. That power only grows by the day.

Unlike the usual crime families, the sense of brotherhood or reliance upon loyalty didn't come naturally. It spurred fear.

Everything was held over your head once you were connected to that place. Sakunosuke couldn't leave the Port Mafia and strive for his hidden dream – The orphans are housed in a Port Mafia-supported building that fronts as a restaurant with a few rooms on the second floor for homing family businesses. Mafia eyes were on this place, stopping the children from escaping with Sakunosuke.

Escapees and traitors were located almost immediately, usually by Dazai. Once found, they'd be dragged kicking and screaming to a curb, stomped, and shot thrice in the chest. For especially tricky ex-members, torture awaited them, locked up until their last day on Earth arrived by the decision of whoever's handling their case. And that was the end of them.

Sakunosuke, having finished his coffee, slid his phone into his pocket, checked the time, and rushed for the lead on his job to locate Ango.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

I sat in the restaurant's kitchen, on the counter above an open drawer of utensils and watched the fan on the wall blow the calendar beside it in all directions. The calendar had a couple of red circles around two of the orphan's upcoming birthdays. Pops ambles in and out of the back with the few customers that bother coming to this out-of-the-way establishment, checking on my illness occasionally and giving me cough medicine.

Bored, I quietly see the afternoon shift into the night, purples and blues glimmering off the pans on the racks.

"It's closing time, kid. Get your things." Pops smiles, hands on the door to keep it open for me. I slid off the counter for the first time in a few hours, placing the spoons I'd bent back into the drawer and blowing my nose before heading to the front. "How's your illness? Maybe you'll be lucky, and it'll go away with some rest."

"My nose is blocked, so I can't sleep, and my mouth breathing is making my throat sorer." I hold my coat in my arms, walking into the night's cool air. Pops opens his passenger door for me to shuffle in. He adjusts his mirror, forces me to place on my seatbelt, and starts the car, "Ya know, when I'm ill, I'm so old that I can hardly get off the couch to put my apron on. The resilience of youth astounds me... Oh, hold on."

Before we could get anywhere, Pop's phone rang. I could hardly hear the remainder of his jazzy ringtone as Pops saw the caller and immediately put it to his ear, incredibly alert for a man like him. I watch with the dread in my stomach piling until I have to hold my abdomen to soothe the raging acid that dared to coat my throat.

"Uh-huh... Oh, that's not too good...Yeah, yeah, they're right here...Got it. I was gonna bring 'em home anyway, so we're in the car." Pops begins inputting a location onto his satnav, and I become pale as I see it's a hospital near where Sakunosuke said he'd head. "...It'll be a short drive, no worries. Is he alright? Are you sure?... That's good. See ya."

The call ends, leaving the vehicle in silence that felt like it dragged as Pops stared at his phone. I wait patiently, fiddling with my sleeves.

Pops is broken from his trance with the satnav giving a notification, and he glances at me, presumably to inform me of what's happening. He notices my sickly complexion and gently pats my back, "Hey, you gonna be sick?" He unlocks my door, pushing it open for me. I mumble my thanks, leaning into the cold air.