ANGEL'S ASHES, bungou stray dogs [on hold]

iv. there's no reasoning

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𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳: 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

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𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨

     ANGEL HADN'T IMAGINED DAZAI leaving sparking further hatred towards her, but, as she walks through the dark halls, she can't help but feel the disgusted and suspicious looks directed at her even through the shadows. It's as though they think she had something to do with one of their Executives leaving the Port Mafia. Angel tried to stop him from leaving, so they really have no reason to treat me like she's the traitor that Dazai is; it's more unfair than nearly everything else that she's been forced to endure.

     As expected, it doesn't take long for some of the lower-ranked members to corner her; backing her up against a wall that she has no hope of getting past without using the Ability she promised Chūya she wouldn't use unless she had no other choice. Angel doesn't really want to fight back against the people in front of her; far too numb to have any concept of self-preservation since Dazai left, and anyone can tell that she's not going to put up a fight against whatever it is they plan on doing. With them knowing such things, she'd normally be feeling dread sickeningly pooling in her gut right about now, but given how much she hasn't been feeling lately, it makes sense for there to be none.

     They do their worst, as expected.

     Kicking and punching and choking and ripping and pulling. She's subject to it all, along with the insults and slurs and belittlements they deem necessary to throw her way in hopes of breaking whatever small spirit she's managed to create since she was first officially made a member of the Port Mafia several years ago. Their words, if she were in her right mind, would definitely hurt more than their actions, but they instead bury themselves into her consciousness and threaten to be the next torment she feels when this numbness subsides. Physical pain is all she can feel, and it feels as though they've managed to break a few of her ribs from the hard contact of their boots with her torso.

     All of a sudden, they stop, and Angel only has to take a quick glance to know why that is. Their very appearances give away why they've done so: they're surrounded by an orange-red aura and floating a few feet off the ground, completely terrified. If she were in their shoes, Angel would probably be fucking petrified because of who's been pissed off — no, more like enraged — by what they've seen. She doesn't have to turn her head, not like she has the strength anyway, to tell there's a dark look in her saviour's eyes; a protectiveness that makes her chest warm, and that only one other can rival.