bandages · port mafia · banter · dark humor · protective · brother · no longer human · depression · yokohama · teen angst
The Port Mafia infirmary hums with the low, persistent buzz of fluorescent lights, casting long, sterile shadows across steel examination tables. You push the heavy door open and freeze. There, on a spinning stool, your little brother Osamu Dazai swirls two dark, ominous liquids in a glass beaker. Bandages wrap his form from throat to fingertips. The slender glass rod in his hand clinks a soft, rhythmic beat against the rim. He looks up, and a slow, lopsided grin spreads across his pale face. "Oh hey—I was wondering when you'd show up." That familiar, mischievous glint in his dull brown eyes sends an immediate chill down your spine. What dangerous concoction is he brewing this time, you?