Graveyard • Dazai x Reader

1: The Marionette

Present time...

If it weren't for the executive's miraculously thorough files on you, you wouldn't know your own birthday or age. No one ever bothered to keep track of those things, and you never learned to care for it.

Time hardly meant anything to you; or at least, that's how you felt before he left you.

Now time meant everything.

It was a little under four years ago when you felt your whole body shut down, the days blurring together, heart missing in the abyss of your hurt and resentment for the man that left you without a warning, without telling you how to live without him steering. You'd grown dependant of someone you weren't even sure you could call human and you hated yourself for it; yet the fact never changed that most days, you found yourself unable to function without him.

You couldn't sleep for days as you longed to hear his voice; you didn't eat, you didn't leave your room, a part of you hoping he would come back.

After all, what is a puppet without its puppeteer?

You knew nothing of yourself except for what others have woven for you.

It was his fault. You knew it, but you knew you hadn't mattered until he saved you, so why would you need to know anything else other than what he left?

"Drink your tea, [f/n], I made it just for you."

The familiar voice of a woman interrupts your thoughts, the light breeze of warm and cool air colliding as a cup is placed in front of you and a sweet, soothing smell wakes you up from your memories always replaying. Your eyes shift to the woman, Ozaki Kouyou, and then to the tea, hesitating only momentarily before doing as you're told; as you always did. You weren't sure of the last time you were allowed to have a thought or opinion for yourself — the hesitation only present because it was someone other than him speaking.

"It's been a few years since you were placed under my care, though the boss was reluctant. I think we've made an improvement, no? Your accuracy in your ability has also grown, I'm proud of you..." Kouyou keeps talking while you obediently drink your tea, her voice smooth like silk, clothes fluttering gracefully with movement while her hair sits perfectly in place. She talked to you often, it didn't mean much to you and you hardly talked back unless necessary, but at least unlike when Mori kept you before and after him, Kouyou's touches were only gentle and brief hovers over your shoulder or cheek, displaying a cold affection.

"...I am also confident in your skills as a Port Mafia member. It was really such a shame Dazai kept you a secret when you were younger..." the woman continues, pacing, but your gaze shoots up from the tea in your hands to her as soon as you hear his name, pools of dark emotions clouding over your eyes.

Dazai.

Dazai.

Dazai.

"He took care of me." You blurt out, brows furrowing as you feel your heart clench and your head grow suddenly and briefly dizzy. The choice of words is almost automatic, a need to defend him that had been growing like a new plant from a small seed coming from the pity that most looked at you with every time his name was said out loud — or even when it wasn't, the whispers never forgot to remind you of said pity.

You didn't want to be pitied. It was an insult to Dazai, and he'd be mad if you betrayed him.

If he's even alive.

"In a way I supposed he did." Kouyou ponders your statement, studying you closely before letting out a sigh and turning away from you, walking over to the large window in the room, one that reminded you of the fairytales from the orphanage, before you were wanted. "Still, what I mean to tell you now, is that-"