Family (Or Something)

Arrogance may as well be a talent

Akutugawa's face twitched into a sneer, hands tucked into his pockets as he gazed up at the large, looming gates of UA. Unbridled hate coiled tightly within his chest, squeezing his lungs in its insidious grasp, twisting his organ into a violent burning rage, just barely simmering beneath his flesh.

Grey stormy clouds swirled above him, a blatant promise of a storm. The wind was cold and wet, the smell of the salty nearby ocean carrying on blasts of sharp air, stinging his eyes.

Letting out a deep, shuttering breath, he turned to the cluster of figures stood tall behind him, Higuchi at his side dutifully.

"Let's begin." He rasped, glowering at the group.

A man with a pale hair and a scarred face grinned.

----------

It seemed Aizawa was right.

When Dazai stepped outside, the chill of the air sent involuntary shivers down his spine, reflexively pulling the coat tighter around his body, ducking his chin into the collar of his jacket, sighing impatiently.

The ground beneath him was soft and muddy from rain a sudden bout of rain they'd receive the evening before, softening the ground and forming thin pockets of ice that cracked apart whenever he so much as nudged them with his shoe.

Footsteps sounded behind him and he stiffly turned to look at the coming figure, only to catch a viscous gusts of wind directly to the face.

"That coat obviously isn't heavy enough for this weather, why do you insist on wearing it now?" Aizawa's brows rose, watching the boys face scrunch up from the cold. He snorted a little at that, which Dazai was sure to level him with a particularly icy look for. The man didn't look all that fazed.

(Annoying.)

"Plus it's far too large for you." He concluded, sighing as he pulled out the pair of gloves they had purchased previously, grabbing the beige scarf as well and tossing it over the boys shoulders, loosely looping it in the middle, letting the ends dangle.

Dazai seemed slightly taken aback by how suddenly he did so, surprised by the wariless contact, but said nothing about it, simply looking off to the side awkwardly, now gloved hands delving into the sleeves of his coat, rolling the ends several times so the wouldn't get in the way, buttoning it up fully.

"... It's tradition." He murmured, adjusting the sleeve over his cast before crossing his arms, hiking his shoulders up.

"Tradition?" Aizawa inquired, stealing a glance back at the patio, catching glimpses of his student bustling about through the window. They were always particularly slow moving in the moving sluggish and lazy, Kaminari and Ashido frequently whining as they moved about.

"When someone brings another person into the Port Mafia they gift them an old piece of clothing. A hand me down." He explained absentmindedly, fingers drumming against his arms.

"Whose is yours from?" Aizawa gestured him to follow, heading in the direction of the school, probably wanting to get there before the students to prepare for the days lessons.

Despite Dazai being slower on his feet due to his foot cast, the man matched his pace, keeping at his side.

"The boss, he gave it to me when I was officially brought into the Port Mafia. When he became to new boss of the Mafia." The skies were dreary, grey and miserable, and he'd heard Kaminari whining about the threat of snow earlier, and he was inclined to agree that that very well may happen.

He noticed the way Dazai pointedly dodged the particularly muddy places, a look of clear disdain for the weather on his face. For someone who, frankly, did a lot of dirty, violent work, he was surprisingly neat with both himself and his belongings, he'd noticed.