Prologue

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8 years ago...

You don't know where you're from, only that one day you woke up in hell alone.

You sit in a room all alone, shivering under the cold wind slipping through the cracks of the poor wooden walls, your body only covered with a thin dress, your hair falling over your face as you stare at a few broken dolls at your feet, the remnants of toys long too damaged to play with. The fire place not too far away was weakly trying to survive, but it was no use, even when you get up and trying to get closer there was no warmth left.

If you tried asking for help, no one would help you. You'd been here for as long as you could remember, in an orphanage where none of the other children liked you for a reason no one would tell you, and it had always been the same.

Just you and some broken dolls.

Nothing ever changed until one day, light flooded in your little room, filling your big, young eyes with a new innocent hope. The headmistress was lining up the small girls to meet a man that had just come in with his own daughter to supposedly 'pick a sister'. The way the man looked at all you sent chills down your spine, and though you had never had the chance to being adopted, you were sure that this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Someone can't just come and pick one like a toy, right?

You didn't let it bother you too much however, because any chance of leaving this hideous darkness, you wanted it. So you put on your best smile, pushing your hair out of your face and standing in line tall and proud, the only thing going on in your head being to get out.

Your heart beats faster as the man's cute, blonde daughter walks towards you, her big blue eyes glowing with excitement as she tugs at your wrist and jumps around in excitement, walking up to the man proudly.

"This is the one!" The girl tells him excitedly, and when the man looks at you from head to toe, you catch a darkness in his eyes instilling fear all over, so much so that you try to place some distance between you, but the young blonde holding has a surprising grip of steel.

"What a cute girl...just my taste!" The man nods happily, giving the headmistress a stack of money hidden away from the view of anyone else.

"So young and fresh...I couldn't have imagined a better young girl to add to our collection, Elise!" The man hums happily as he leads the way out, the girl responding to the name Elise, dragging you along, glancing at you ever so often so that you had to hide your feeling of dread.

There was something off about the man wearing a doctor's coat, glossy black hair falling around his middle-aged face. You didn't like it, you didn't want anything to do with it, but over that feeling was a feeling you had never felt before as the outside sun hits your face, and you feel free for the first time you can remember.

"I payed a lot for you, [f/n]...Dazai better have been right about your information...but even if he wasn't..." The man looks back at you with an eerie smile before he continues to talk.

"I'm sure my money was worth it."

•••

7 years ago...

"[f/n], Dazai is waiting for you."

Your eyes meet Mori's violet ones, the dull darkness that you once feared installing nothing amongst your numbed body after a year in what you found to be the Port Mafia.

There were many things you had learned in a year, none of which you particularly enjoyed. Your biggest discovery was your own gift, an ability in which as long as you have any piece of paper, a pen and someone's full name, as soon as you write down their name you can manifest a small puppet of them from the piece of paper, controlling their every move, even to the point where if you were to cut any part of the puppet, the same would happen to the actual person. You don't know the name of your ability, or maybe you did know but under all of Mori's special requests from you and Dazai's control, it slipped your mind...you weren't sure, everything felt hazy as you tried to remember, blocking away any unpleasant memories Mori engraved in you. Nevertheless, you know Dazai knows its name...and that's what matters.

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