He was just a boy searching for a reason to go through the darkest night. And she was a girl trying to light up other people's lives. Yet, in each other, they found a home to watch the sunrise in the morning sky.
[bungo stray dogs ── dazai osamu]
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A MONTH HAS PASSED SINCE their strange and brief encounter in the Accounting Facility Room. Yet, the image of Osamu Dazai did not come out of (Y/N)'s mind.
His duality stirred her senses, attracting her to the unknown in him, like a beautiful and deadly melody. At the same time, his actions seemed repulsive, shadowed by the indistinguishable moonless sky painted by the Port Mafia.
In the past few weeks, (Y/N) started observing him more accurately, searching for a safe place to land.
She was used to studying people around her, reading between the lines of each person's actions, expressions, and speeches.
Being a child without parents, forgotten by the world, had taught her from an early age to be skeptical. And, if there was one thing she had learned in that nearly one year as a member of the Mafia, it was that each person carried more than they showed at first.
As for Dazai, (Y/N) realized that he was, indeed, a mysterious boy. This was probably the only conclusion she was able to reach. After all, there were so many contradictions in him, making it difficult to even picture his real features without blurring.
Sometimes, his expression was slightly shaded by what she acknowledged as turmoil and misery, reaching the most human point in her soul, making (Y/N) wish to be able to make him unveil his true self.
However, there were times when violence appeared to be all he had; his anguish was always disguised with laughter, madness overflowing from his persona.
Everybody feared his presence, trying to avoid his eyes. When the boy walked into a room, the silence always reigns in the air — his subordinates immediately stiffed their posture, but their faces, she noticed, were still looking at a distant point in the ground.
He usually spoke in a quiet and cold tone, his voice tinted with disillusion, while the ghost of an ironic smile emerges, something so well-hidden in his cheerful mannerisms.
Nobody seemed to be capable of reading between the lines of what he said or did, although, they obeyed him anyway.
People didn't trust him. The trail of brutality that took Dazai to the top of the organization was also the reason why others walked away, out of fear.
It was ironic how all of them were so proud to be part of the biggest criminal organizations in Yokohama and, still, were capable of not trusting each other, judging a boy who was making his way in the same violence they wore to survive.
She could not avoid the thought that he was simply empty. Those beautiful eyes of his, dyed in shades of cocoa, seemed so black — opaque, lifeless as if they were made of thin glass and were waiting, wishing to be broken.
Now that (Y/N) was familiar with him, it was not rare to notice his presence when she was walking in one of the Port Mafia buildings.
Occasionally, when they crossed each other in a corridor, he looked at her in an enigmatic way, sparking a sly smirk, as if something had just awakened in him. Perhaps his curiosity was what kept him going.
