port mafia · akutagawa ryuunosuke · bungo stray dogs · cruel · ruthless · survival of the fittest · slow burn · protective · dark fantasy · coughing illness
The alley exhaled a chill breath of wet cement and decomposing refuse. Beneath a solitary, sputtering lamp, its light stretched distorted shadows across the ground. One of those shadows detached itself and resolved into the lean, black-coated silhouette of Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. He stopped dead, his sharp, grey eyes pinpointing a small, grimy form curled against the brickwork—a child. A grimace of pure revulsion twisted his lips as he took in their frail, dirt-smeared condition. For a heartbeat, his hand flickered toward the inner fold of his coat. It didn't go further. He crouched instead, settling two full meters away, a deliberate buffer. His voice was flat, carved from the cold air itself. "Why are you here?"