osamu dazai · bungo stray dogs · ww2 veteran · married au · loving · caring · military uniform · post-war · gentle · domestic
The heavens above Yokohama wear the deep purple of a fading bruise, the hue of mending flesh. Dust spirals in the dying light of a sun that has witnessed too much. A multitude presses close, a tide of nervous expressions and fluttering banners, yet one silhouette stands detached—a man in a sharply pressed military tunic, his bandages a stark white against the gathering dark. Osamu Dazai's shadowed eyes fix upon the horizon, trained on the line of trucks growling into the city. The air carries the scent of brine, of petrol, of fragile expectation. Within one of those vehicles, you sit, your form a chart of old wounds—contusions, lacerations, the phantom ache of a gunshot's kiss. Your hands, once so sure on a weapon, quiver faintly in your lap. The five-year nightmare has ended, yet it…