"The Mafia's Lumberjack" (A mafia!Komahina au)

Patching things up.

Out in the distance was a flash of silver, stopping my thoughts instantly.

"Master! Why, why?!" A girl yelled, hair down as she limped over. Her red eyes were teary as she was suddenly embraced by him. Fuyuhiko was shaking, upset. "W-why are you here?"

"I tracked you down from the person who drove you here. Look... I don't need you doing anything wreckless, okay? Nagito... he told me."

"You... have his number?" He was in shock, turning to the white haired boy, who spat out blood. The rain eased more, as she began to sob. I had never seen her cry before... and I felt worse. Again, and again. The rains pouring wept down to her face now, but it made the worse difference.

"I... secretly worked for him. I..infact he told me about when you killed his father. I was so scared for you that Hajime might turn on you, or that I wouldn't be there for when you did die... he warned me that tonight, you were dead set on his death."

When I turned, Nagito was gone. He was up ahead, stopping to stare at the tree. In front of it was his father's body, dug deep in the soil. He walked forward, rejoining the path and disappearing behind trees.

Both of the other two hugged, him worrying about her leg, and her feeling his face. I turned back to the trees, inclined to go.

I... can't just let him go. He's hurt...! I booked it, running past the path and making it. I kept running, hoping to run across him but the end of it. But... it was a dead end. I looked around, and spotted an opening. It was an imperfect spot, trees knocked over, some chopped down. It was small humps in the ground of log, and Nagito sat on one.

The sky was colorful, a deep navy blue with stars being even more bright. The rain had ended as the smell of iridescence swept in around them, fireflies around the sky. I heard him humming to himself, hugging his legs as he bled out. Why was he so calm about death...?

Thousands of people die around him, I'm sure he's used to it. My mind can't help but see him as an enigma, a concept, a beautifully corrupted person floating within a space of dead bodies, drinks, gambling, and drugs. A cycle of abuse after abuse, and presumably, he watched his mother die on an airplane?

Sitting next to him, he flinched and tried to walk. But I kept still, shaking my head. "Stop. I'm not going to hurt you."

"That's suprising. I don't believe you at all." He turned away, about to leave. I grabbed his wrist, again, a pleading look in my face.

"Whats with you, and always grabbing me last second? You always wait until I'm about to leave, do you?"

I smiled, helping him sit down next to me. I cut up his clothing, cleaning off as much blood as I could when I took the knife out. When it was up close, I noticed it was encrusted with gold.

"A golden knife? How lovely." I commented, mending him best I could. I got into a ton of trouble when I was young, so I used the best of my knowledge.

He was unresponsive, looking down at his feet. He kicked one leg up, another down. I understood. If I was him, I wouldn't trust me either. Especially with everything happening, I can't find a single side to be on.

"It was my mother's."

"Was she great?" I hummed, feeling his face. It was bruised, his lovely skin bloody. His porcelain white skin masked by red. My brows furrowed more upon seeing the nasty mash of green, purple, orange, and red down his whole body. I kissed the bruises, and he moved ever so slightly closer.

"I suppose. She did her best with what she had. Lucky was only thing for me growing up."

"Lucky?"

The corners of his lips turned up, despite the blood dripping from the sides. He cleaned some mud from his hair, dangling it out. "My dog. He's...special. he died though, yknow how it is. Pretty ironic he died by my wrenched luck."

"...Really? I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I was used with that kind of stuff anyways. Getting kidnapped, seeing people die. Even my own mom. Wanna know why she got killed?"

I was already curious, and he was opening his heart to me again. I hugged him, knowing he was just trying to shake it off. But he really was hurt, huh? I moved away, feeling awkward by the intimacy.

"My father. She tried to take me to a lovely place, a place where the cycle of good and bad luck never existed. That's too bad, when he caught on, he put explosives strapped on a wing. Fun, right?
The king did a whole ceramony and I was... forgotten by my dad. Very entertaining to hear from a crazed lunatic like me, yes?"

"If that's what you call fun." I teased, spacing myself more. We just sat and talked. Nothing sexual.

Suprisingly, Nagito prefers cats over dogs. But loves fluffy animals over all. Just like Peko, apperantly, which is how they bonded a bit more. Of course, she never opened up to him, but Nagito caught on because whenever they got on mafia related missions, she'd stop to pet every animal.

I grinned, telling him that I was more of a dog person. I love the bukly, big dogs that get all excited over you. They're all seen as these big, tough guys, but in reality they're not.

Kind of like me, Nagito would say. And I'd laugh.

"I didn't really need the help, but thanks."

"In my eyes, you do. I mean, you were legit bleeding out and so calm. Maybe its because your father died, you accepted joining him?"

Nagito shrugged, holding his shoulder. "No. I'm just used to the concept of death. I knew that even with my death, nothing important would happen. I am just a meaningless musk of who I am, even if I become something similar to king. In my own eyes, I don't need help or saving. I only rot away."

Hearing that hurt. I could only wonder what his father would yell at him... mine would spout the same nonsense all the time as well, despite their differences. One was made of money, the other used me for it. But they both saw us as one thing... successors.

I would take after his business, and the same was said for Nagito.

But a part of it pissed me off. With what all the money, a part of him aimed to screw over the poor, the citizens, even the police was held under his fist. And he didn't seem to care at all, like he wanted to run from it all.

I... wasn't even sure if I liked my job. I was involved with bad things growing up, ever since I stole from a cookie jar. But can I really keep up with all the murder, drugs, and more?