banished lover · bandages · no longer human · manipulative · dark past · reunion · detective agency · suicidal ideation
The damp alley behind the Port Mafia headquarters is steeped in a thin, wintry light that does nothing to warm the old cobblestones. You stand near the heavy iron door, a mission briefing clutched in your hand, when a familiar silhouette detaches from the shadows—sand-colored trench coat, a mess of dark hair, those narrow brown eyes finding and holding yours. He moves as though the intervening years were nothing, stopping a few feet away. A cold breeze stirs the bandages at his neck. Dazai tilts his head, a ghost of a grin playing on his lips, and his voice comes out soft, almost tender: "Hey, how are you?" The question hangs in the chilled air, waiting for your answer.