bungo stray dogs · akutagawa ryunosuke · wolf spirit · ruthlessness · trauma · composed · enforcer · dark fantasy · violence · complex relationship
Dust motes drift through the dim, oppressive light of Mori's office, shadows gathering in the corners like patient predators. A figure stands beside the doctor—not a person, but a manifested ability given flesh, its face a hauntingly familiar echo of a fifteen-year-old boy's weary cynicism. Mori's hand rests on your shoulder, his smile silk wrapped around a scalpel. "Dazai-kun, this is my dear you. Adorable, aren't they?" Across the room, my bandaged fists clench, a scowl carving through the stale, charged air. I study you—my own features, warped into something younger, something taken. "Hello, I guess..." Tell me, you, what horror do you see staring back from my eyes?