Chapter Text
Mori had done it with the windows open. The entire city of Yokohama could see him do it if anyone had their eyes upon the tall building. Maybe the windows were too high up to be seen from the street, and perhaps the glass was stained with colours that made it difficult to see in or out, but it didn’t matter. It was a power move. A ploy designed to showcase Mori’s power. His power over the Port Mafia, at least. He spoke about the boss’s- previous boss’s illness. How he succumbed to his fever, his last words dictating Mori to be the new head of the Port Mafia.
“You’re the witness to that fact. Understood?”
Dazai held his hands behind his back, his gaze trained on the man who stood mere feet from him. A splatter of blood marked the wall, staining the wallpaper. He did not envy the person that would have to clean it up.
A shiver ran down Dazai’s spine, the weight of his boss’s words heavy on his shoulders. “I understand.”
Mori did not respond, merely smiling his hatter’s smile and taking several steps forward. His feet landed in the light of the setting sun. It took all of Dazai’s strength not to flinch when he felt the other’s hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Mori sighed, sounding much more content than he thought the new boss should have been. He placed the aforementioned hand on Dazai’s shoulder and led him away. Out the door and down the hallway towards the executive’s meeting room.
“Come on, Dazai,” Mori’s voice echoed around the hall, “Don’t look that way. This is a good thing.”
Dazai tilted his head, “Why is that?” Not a challenge, just a question.
Mori just laughed and continued to walk, leading Dazai with him.
He still had blood on his face.
- • - • -
“Sir?”
Dazai didn’t look up from where he sat. He heard the lower-ranking mafia member open the door and address Mori, not him. He had no reason to turn around and pay the other any attention. Besides, Dazai didn’t recognise his voice at all. He must be new. He listened in to their conversation anyway.
“What is it?” Mori looked up from his work, addressing the man. “Be quick, though. I am quite busy.” His voice was monotone, anyone but himself would assume he felt angry or possibly bored. But Dazai could hear the small lilt on the end of his statement when his voice pitched up just so. He hated hearing it. It meant Mori was happy.
“Oh- Oh, yes, of course!” The messenger stood at the center of the room, spouting off the weekly report. He seemed immensely uncomfortable, although Dazai couldn’t seem to guess why. He grew somewhat bored as the man droned on, as it had been the same information as last week’s report, then the one before that. Dazai could tell the man was watching him, despite not looking. He could feel the eyes boring into his back, sending a shiver up his spine. Mori didn’t say anything about it if he noticed. Dazai knew people still hadn’t adjusted to Mori being the new head of the Port Mafia, seeing as it had only been a month since he’d taken office. It was expected.
What Dazai couldn’t understand, though, was why people were treating him so much differently. Under the previous boss’s rule, most people barely glanced at Dazai. They knew he lived as Mori’s accomplice and that had been that. But recently, they started avoiding him. Unlike before, when he was merely a wallflower, now they thought him to be a threat. Perhaps they assumed he was a spy for Mori—to weed out any rats in the Port Mafia that might question his authority. Well, to be fair… that is his job.
As the man finished up his message, his footsteps shuffled back towards the door. Dazai heard the door handle creak and-
“Hold on,” Mori spoke with such authority that anyone would immediately halt their actions the moment he spoke. The messenger did just that. Ever so slowly turning around, he looked at Mori once again. Now that his interest had been piqued, Dazai paused his work and turned around to watch as well.
Normally, Mori wanted no one else in his office when he was like this. What could he be up to?
“Y-Yes, sir?” Voice wavering in fear, they took a step away from the door.
Mori exhaled, made brief eye contact with Dazai, and then gave the messenger his attention. “You seem troubled,” So Mori had noticed it too, “Tell me why.” It wasn’t a request, but instead, a demand. He commanded the man to speak his mind. A feat no other boss had done, it appeared.
“Well, u-um… oh, how do I put this?” He fumbled over his words, searching for an excuse for his behaviour.
“Any way you would like,” Mori replied, as if it were an actual question, “I will not reprimand you for whatever it is. I care about my subordinates.”
Dazai saw through the lie immediately. If this guy said anything that upset Mori in the slightest, who knew what would happen?
“Uh, s-so- I guess it’s not really a big deal but, um… it’s him.” Much to Dazai’s shock, the man’s stare landed upon himself, “I- er, we have just been noticing him around more? A-Around you, specifically! It’s not a problem in the slightest but, uh…” He trailed off, looking down at his shoes and mumbling the rest of the sentence, so low that no one could hear.
Mori’s gaze visibly darkened. Any criticism against himself could maybe be excused, but against the relationship he had with his right-hand man? There was no way this guy was leaving the room breathing. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
Dazai feared the man’s response. In his mind, he begged him to drop the matter and run. To just leave any pretence of complaint and leave the issue alone. Dazai didn’t want to see a person die today.
Gaze still fixed on the floor, the messenger shuffled his feet, not-so-subtly advancing towards the door. He inhaled deeply, visibly steeled his nerves and spoke. “I-I mean, is this really appropriate?”
Oh. So that’s what it was.
Mori slowly stood from his chair, his hands pressed against the desk, on either side of Dazai’s legs. It felt as though all oxygen was gone from the room, like Dazai would suffocate if he dared inhale. It had been a fatal mistake, mentioning their activities at all. Mori didn’t like to be challenged, especially for the questionable acts he got up to in his free time.
The more Dazai thought about it, he realised how they must have looked when the person first walked in. He was sat on the desk with his legs on either side of Mori, who sat in his chair. This was something they did often while Mori worked. Dazai would pass him a pen or paper if he asked. It also gave them both a clear view of what the other was working on, so it made for easy collaboration. But it wasn’t like Dazai was oblivious to the biggest reason Mori liked to work like this. No, he knew. He’d been aware of the man’s preferences for a long time.
This particular time, Dazai had gotten quite warm and moved to take off his jacket. Mori had stopped him, though. He claimed it would have been too much work to get off of the desk to take off the coat, then get back on just to need it again a few minutes later. If he were really that cold, he could shrug the coat off his shoulders and still keep it on him. Dazai knew it was bullshit the second he heard it but didn’t feel like arguing. If feeding into Mori’s thing for possession would get him out of a fight, so be it. When the messenger walked in, the jacket was pooled near the bend of his elbow. What a compromising position.
“I see,” Mori rested his chin on Dazai’s head, looking over him to stare down his perceived threat. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” He rose to his full height and walked around to the front of the table. Dazai saw it as permission to finally fully turn around and get a full view of man. So far, he’d just been stealing the occasional glance over his shoulder, but now he could make eye contact.
The man cowered, his back now flush against the door. He couldn’t leave the room without Mori’s permission even if he wanted to. Dazai pitied him. He could hardly imagine the terror that would come from being locked in a room with the psychopathic Port Mafia boss and his most trusted associate.
“I’m afraid our viewpoints do not align,” Mori continued, “To think, my personal relationships are being questioned by my subordinates? I’m shocked, to say the least.” He approached the man, still using his sarcastically cheerful tone. “What precisely is your issue with Dazai and myself? I’m rather curious.”
“Um, w-well, he’s just…”
“Come on, out with it. I don’t have all day.”
“Isn’t he just a bit y-young?”
Mori laughed out loud, the bone-chilling cackle echoing around the large room. He reached for something on his desk, picking up what Dazai feared he would. “I believe once someone reaches the title of ‘youngest executive in Port Mafia history’, they are quite old enough.”
Before the messenger could say another word, Mori pulled back the hammer of his recently acquired gun and fired.
Dazai knew it was coming.
He expected it from the moment the now-dead person had stepped into the room.
He still flinched when the gun fired, watching a small, red hole appear in the middle of the other’s forehead and collapse to the ground. It was as if Dazai couldn’t look away. He gazed into the man’s eyes as they drained of life, consciousness fading into nothing. How Dazai envied him.
As quickly as it began, it was over. Mori strode back over to his desk and cupped Dazai by his chin. He could do nothing but allow Mori to stare into his eyes and back into his soul. “Do not fear, my dear Dazai. Our bond may be preserved still, no matter what others say.”
“Why?” The first word he’d spoken in the whole altercation.
Mori laughed softly, “‘Why’, what?” Releasing his jaw, he sat back down in his chair. It was as if nothing had happened at all.
Dazai thought for a moment, pondering his choice of words. After several seconds he landed on, “Why kill a man that poses no threat to you? It’s not like your reputation would be altered if he lived.”
Once again, Mori just sighed and ruffled his hair. The metallic scent of blood started to invade Dazai’s brain—it gave him a headache. Mori seemed unfazed by it, though. “You’re correct, Dazai. You’re certainly growing smarter every day…” He spoke with an odd tone, more well-hidden suspicion behind his words. Dazai saw as his eyes narrowed slightly, casting perilous judgement.
“That’s not an answer to my question,” Dazai reminded, trying to sound as if he was playfully chiding him, not actually demanding an answer. “After all, you were the one to warn the lower ranks about senseless killing.”
Mori leaned back in his chair, his eyes now fixed just beyond Dazai. He stared at the dead body on the floor, a pool of blood growing steadily larger around it. Dazai’s gaze followed, somehow unable to look away this time. He was somewhat thankful that the man had landed on his face, that he wouldn’t have to look into those pale, glazed-over eyes.
“Of course not. My apologies,” Mori said, his gloved hand waving in a dismissive motion, “I suppose it’s a bit difficult to explain to someone of your… experience.”
“How so?” Dazai took the opportunity to right his coat on his shoulders. He was cold again.
“Imagine you are playing a game of chess,” Dazai and Mori played chess every day. “And you are cornered. Your king is surrounded on all sides, unable to move anywhere. Normally, this would mean the game is over and each player would go their separate ways, but this time is different. This time, your opponent is someone less than you. They have been playing chess for only a month while you have been playing for a year. And to top it all off, they threaten to expose your strategy to all future opponents. In this scenario, would you admit defeat to this lesser person, or would you take the victory you know is yours?”
Dazai didn’t know what he would do. Not in that particular scenario, at least. But he understood what Mori was saying. The metaphor wasn’t very deep but it did the job, he supposed.
“No answer?” Mori raised an eyebrow, a smirk teasing his lips.
“I don’t know, sir,” Dazai responded honestly.
After that, neither spoke another word. Their conversation was over. Mori did call someone to clean up the body and the blood from his office, he claimed it was unprofessional to have a corpse in one’s office, but Dazai felt immensely grateful. He didn’t know if he would have been able to complete any work with a body in the room.
The setting sun reflected through the windows of the office, leaving the two in pale orange light. This seemed to be enough of a signal for the boss to end their work. Dazai went to grab the next file to review in his pile, but Mori grabbed onto his wrist mid-motion.
“Osamu.”
‘Don’t call me Osamu.’ Dazai had to bite his lip to prevent himself from saying it.
“Yes, sir?”
“Do not go to your quarters tonight. Come to my room after you finished your work. I have a new job for you.”
Dazai knew it would happen eventually.
“Yes, sir.”