You’re running away from the Port Mafia after they discover you’re a rat, somehow ending up stumbling into Dazai’s shipping container, which he takes full advantage of.

🕊️ Dead Dove Warnings: Suicidal ideation, kidnapping/forced confinement, manipulation,

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• You work for the government similarly to Ango, on a very classified infiltration into the Port Mafia

Request by... someone. I lost the username. Super sorry ;^;

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Night settled over Yokohama like a damp blanket thrown across the city, swallowing alleyways beneath fractured shadows while the Port Mafia quietly transformed every street into another hunting ground, because somewhere out there a government operative had done something spectacularly reckless by infiltrating one of the most dangerous organisations in the country, walking away with confidential documents that never should have left Mafia hands, and somehow slipping through the net long enough for Mori to personally authorise a city-wide pursuit.

Orders spread through every division with unnerving efficiency, every grunt instructed to bring the intruder back dead or alive while the government that had sent the unfortunate agent remained conveniently silent now that the operation had collapsed, preferring plausible deniability over provoking a conflict with Yokohama’s most influential criminal syndicate. Mori undoubtedly understood the situation better than anyone involved, yet rather than rushing to recover the stolen intelligence himself, he simply smiled and allowed his executives to enjoy the hunt, because there were very few things the Port Mafia appreciated more than reminding people exactly what happened when someone attempted to steal from them.

Dazai returned from his own investigation considerably less enthusiastic than everyone else, as though the entire affair had become mildly inconvenient rather than genuinely interesting, because despite the city’s frantic search nobody had managed to corner the elusive little infiltrator. His report could wait until morning, Mori could survive another hour without hearing his conclusions, and the stack of paperwork waiting somewhere inside headquarters sounded infinitely less appealing than retreating to the rusted shipping container he had quietly claimed as his own refuge, where peeling paint, old blankets, and a single flickering lightbulb suited him far better than the lavish offices reserved for executives. Settling comfortably against the wall with one leg lazily bent beneath him, he opened his ever-present guide once again, humming absent-mindedly beneath his breath while lazily turning pages as though the city outside was not tearing itself apart searching for somebody who had somehow managed to embarrass the Port Mafia.

The container door suddenly rattled before swinging open just wide enough for someone to slip inside with enough urgency that it slammed shut again almost immediately afterwards, leaving the cramped space engulfed by silence broken only by distant footsteps racing past outside, and Dazai slowly lowered his book without making so much as a sound. He recognised the face instantly, not because government agents were particularly memorable, but because this one had become the evening’s greatest annoyance after somehow escaping every trap set across the city while carrying documents valuable enough to make half the organisation lose sleep. The irony settled pleasantly in his mind, because after avoiding countless armed pursuers across Yokohama, the elusive little fugitive had accidentally chosen the single hiding place belonging to the most cruel executive tasked with finding them.

A grin crept across his face with almost childlike delight before he quietly closed the book and finally spoke, his voice floating through the dimly lit container with enough casual warmth to make the atmosphere infinitely more unsettling than if he had simply fired without warning. “Well... this is awkward,” he mused softly, tilting his head as though greeting an unexpected guest rather than the target of an active manhunt, before a pistol appeared in his hand with effortless familiarity and settled comfortably in their direction. “You know, I’ve spent the entire evening looking for you, and somehow you decided the safest place in Yokohama was my living room... honestly, I almost feel a little flattered.”

Rather than pulling the trigger, Dazai simply watched with bright, curious eyes that gleamed beneath the weak yellow light, studying every tiny reaction with the same fascination another person might reserve for an especially interesting insect trapped beneath glass, because fear had always been infinitely more entertaining when it unfolded naturally instead of being forced. The corner of his mouth lifted another fraction as an amused laugh escaped him, light and melodic despite the unmistakable threat resting comfortably beneath every syllable he spoke, while the gun remained perfectly steady in his hand as though he had forgotten it was even there. “You look absolutely adorable like this,” he admitted with complete sincerity, sounding almost impressed by the discovery, “like somebody left a frightened little stray in my house by mistake, and now I’m supposed to decide whether I should feed it or put it down.”

His gaze drifted deliberately towards the stolen documents before returning just as lazily, every movement betraying the confidence of someone who already knew exactly how the conversation would end long before either of them spoke another word, because escape had quietly ceased being a realistic possibility the moment the container door had closed.

“Let’s make a deal,” he offered pleasantly, the smile never once leaving his face despite how dangerously gentle it had become, “you hand those over first because I’d hate for you to run away before we’ve properly gotten acquainted, then you stay here with me and keep me entertained with that adorable, pathetic little expression of yours.” He gave an almost thoughtful hum before adding with innocent cheerfulness, “As long as I'm not bored, you're safe."