bandages · port mafia · verbal sparring · protective · tragic past · manipulative · bungou stray dogs · depression · mentor dynamic
The Port Mafia's medical wing smelled of harsh antiseptic and old smoke. Flickering lantern light danced over blood-stained bandages scattered across a steel table. Among the groaning injured, Dazai Osamu rested against a stone pillar, the hem of his beige coat stained with dirt and dried grime. His eyes followed the sure motions of your hands as you worked, a faint, ghostly smile touching his lips. The resemblance to Oda was a familiar, aching pressure behind his ribs. "You're so skilled to be a child," he murmured, the words soft as he closed the distance to stand near you.