Magic and Mystery Coil by Allegory_for_Hatred

Doe and Wolf

Dazai had long since grown used to pain. A dog bite, a bruised cheek, a broken bone... the feeling was familiar enough to him that, often, he didn't even register it. Father's bloody punishments were too common to warrant response these days. And, compared to the burn of overusing No Longer Human, physical pain didn't really stack up.

That was Dazai's excuse, and he was sticking with it.

"Still," Mori said. His gloved hands expertly wrapped a fresh bandage over Dazai's arm. It was already stained red in places. "You had to have noticed that it was infected, Shuuji."

Dazai's lip curled, but not at the rancid stench of yellowing, pus-covered skin. "Don't call me that."

Mori gave the bandage a harsh tug before dropping the boy's wounded arm. It fell into his lap lifelessly "By your name? Don't be foolish. Regardless, didn't you just ignore the infection hoping it would kill you?"

"I like Dazai better."

"You can change it when your father finally dies," Mori said, merely raising a brow at Dazai's avoidance of the question. He turned to grab a bottle of disinfectant. Obedient, Dazai propped his right leg up onto the infirmary cot where a long, bleeding gash tore across his skin. "Until then, you're only making more trouble for yourself by using that alias here."

The mention of Father had Dazai stilling, but he easily played it off as readying himself for Mori to clean the cut. It stung, but no more than anything else. He shrugged.

It was always cold in Mori's office. The air held a sort of artificial feeling to it—something sterile and chemical. Dazai thought there must have been windows in the room at one point, but now the office was four cement slabs and a tile floor. The only burst of color in the entire room was the blood-red of Elise's dress where she sat at their feet. Her hand fisted around a red crayon.

Mori caught his eyes, a slim smile across his face. "How did this one happen, Shuuji?" He emphasized the name, brandishing it like a weapon. An intrigued glint in his eyes, Mori poked a gloved finger into the cut. Mori was always careful to wear gloves when handling this particular patient.

"I'll kick you," Dazai warned.

Mori withdrew his finger to continue his work, but didn't look sheepish in the slightest.

From the floor, Elise giggled.

Dazai eyed the doctor in distaste for a long moment before responding, "I don't know."

Mori hummed. "You've always been a troublesome child. I'm sure you can think of something that you've done."

"Not really. I'm perfectly well-behaved."

A moment of silence passed between the two infirmary inhabitants—a pause to appreciate the sheer absurdity of such a statement.

"A well-behaved boy wouldn't have let a small cut get infected as a method for suicide."

Dazai rolled his eyes, then leaned back to give the doctor space to work. The sooner this was over with, the better. He rolled his neck stiffly. "Father is just angry these days. It's hardly my fault."

A needle poked into Dazai's shin, threading a small band across the skin. The wound began to close shut under Mori's careful ministrations. A bundle of cotton soaked up more blood.

Mori hummed.

Dazai's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you supposed to be fixing him? You aren't a very good doctor."

Below them, Elise's drawing suddenly paused.

Mori glanced up, briefly meeting Dazai's eyes before turning back to the wound. He tied off the stitches with a particularly rough pull. "Your father's illness is quite complicated."