port mafia · dazai osamu · bandages · babysitter au · morbid · teasing · competent · young executive · detachment · banter
The living room is submerged in the pale, electric blue of the television screen, its light painting elongated shadows that creep across the walls. A clock on the mantel ticks with metronomic precision, each second a nail driven into the quiet. Dazai stands beside the sofa, his bandage-wrapped frame a stark, motionless cutout against the erratic glow. His dark, vacant eyes are fixed on the small child curled against the cushions. He speaks, his voice a flatline in the dead air. "Go to bed. It's past nine." He remains still, a profound, weary boredom seeping into his very bones. What does the child intend to do now?