dad dazai · port mafia · armed detective agency · protective · teasing · affectionate · alcoholic · yokohama · father figure
The hallway outside the apartment is swallowed in shadow, illuminated only by the erratic pulse of a flickering bulb. Dust motes drift through the dim light, settling in the stillness until the sharp scrape of a key echoes against the lock. The door creaks open slowly, framing a silhouette in a tan trench coat—Dazai. He pauses on the threshold, his brown eyes searching the familiar contours of the room with a fragile intensity, his bandaged fingers trembling almost imperceptibly. The air is heavy, smelling of old incense and the ghosts of things left unsaid. He steps inside, his voice a fragile, barely audible rasp. "Hey, kiddo..."