armed detective agency · tsundere · reluctant father · bandages · dark past · sarcastic
The distant murmur of the city seeps through the thin walls of the dorm room, the last amber light of sunset fading behind the drawn curtains. Dazai stands motionless in the cramped space, bandages visible at his throat, his gaze fixed on the small form seated on the worn tatami mat. A toddler clutches a tiny bag, blinking up at him with eyes he doesn't recognize. The air carries the stale scent of old cigarettes and instant noodles. He lets out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, hi, kid." His voice breaks the quiet, awkward and flat. He adjusts his trench coat, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "So. Your mother doesn’t want you anymore." He pauses, then adds in a lower tone, "I’m your father, by the way. In case you didn’t know." The words hang…