31 Days Of Dazai

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Dazai was afraid of Mori, and to a degree, he thinks Mori is afraid of him as well.

Dazai is afraid of what Mori is, afraid of what he does.

He's frightened of the current Mori, the Mori who's hands wander a bit too much and whose unafraid of putting him in the crossfire of a situation he has no interest in being involved with, a situation he has no interest in.

A good example is the previous boss. Dazai had no desire to be in that room with him when he did the deed, he wanted no part of the aftermath, his claiming the throne as the new Port Mafia Boss. Dazai didn't want to be his witness, to have his testimony of events count for so much, for his words to mean life or death over a human being.

Dazai was lesser than them, so why should his actions have any say in the lives of those more worthy, more important than him? It made no sense, it was utterly illogical, and yet Mori always put him in the situation where he was in charge of people.

He knew Dazai didn't feel like others, that his emotion were drawn back and unnaturally weak, that his sense of empathy was nonexistent, that he didn't really care for those he killed. In fact, his desire to have no part in their lives was purely selfish, he wanted to shield himself from the prying eyes of humans, their smart, inventive natures sent shivers down his spine, whenever he realized they were looking at him, he'd become self conscious that they were peeling back his layers, that they were seeing him for what he truly was. A measly bug, insignificant and useless, something easily stomped out, not by fists nor feet, because that would be to kind, but by words and emotions.

Mori knew his fear of kindness. He'd commented on how bizarre it was that he feared something like that, something spent their entire lives yearning for, but that was exactly the reason. Dazai had his goal, it was simple and something most humans had hardwired in them, but being the pathetic cockroach he was, he lacked it.

A reason for living.

Dazai had no desire to live, something known through the ranks of the Mafia, a feat many puzzled over, because humans were ruled by the instinct to survive, to triumph and thrive, yet Dazai himself lacked such a drive. He had nothing, it was a pit within him, nasty and festering, a pit that gave him the ability to put himself in mortal danger with no regard for himself, and often others, and while Mori complained exasperatedly about his suicide attempts, he was quietly delighted by his willingness to complete any task given to him, even if it could end in death.

Mori was afraid of his ability to adapt and overcome, he was afraid of what he was creating, that Dazai would eventually become a force that even he couldn't subdue.

He knew Dazai had changed drastically since he first met him, he seemed to morph as to fit his environment perfectly, sticking him in increasingly difficult situations had become a rather enjoyable pastime of his, however in indulging himself, he realized that Dazai was changing too much.

He knew Dazai was going to succeed him, that was his goal in taking the suicidal teen in, after all, to train him to take over the Port Mafia and become the next leader to fulfill the Tripartite Model, but perhaps a tad too belatedly, he came to understand that the thing he was creating was truly the demon he was named after.

Dazai, surely, would stick him in the throat one of these days like he did to the previous boss, but that made Mori wonder, when would that be?

Would it occur while he's sleeping? Would the boy spend the night in his bed, waiting beside him, pressed up against the man, buried against his side waiting for his breathing to even out as the hands of sleep took him in for him to slit his throat? To run the cold, sharp steel of one of his own scalpels across his trachea, to be soaked in Mori's blood just as he had the boys father?

Would he perched at the end of the bed as Mori's corpse cooled in the chilled night air, waiting for Hirotsu to arrive and help cover for him just as the older man did for him?

Or would it be less subtle? The boy certainly had a way with words, perhaps he'd invoke a rebellion within the Mafia, amassing a group to assist him in taking the throne from him by brute force, to gun him down as he sat behind his mahogany desk, writing paperwork?

Would the boy step over his corpse and pluck the scarf out from around his and loop it around his own, donning the hand-me-down, mafia heirloom as he addresses these faceless men on how proceed with their take over?

He knew the boy wouldn't feel bad for doing so, after all his apathy and dissociative nature was his greatest charm, but he did know that he'd miss being treated badly.

If the brunette truly wanted to stop Mori's acts of violence and defilement, he knew he surely would find a way to do so, however he allowed it with minimal protest.

The boy yearned to be hurt despite his loud, obnoxious protestations that he hated pain, he knew that he'd be unsure of how to handle himself without the harm Mori inflicted.

Dazai was used to being hurt, pain was a constant in his life, so he knew that it suddenly stopped, the boy would be like a junky without his fix. Perhaps he'd push it down for a while, hide his widening pit, ignore the withdrawals of not constant being hurt, of having someone to knock him down a few pegs, to hurt him in all the ways that would surely send most others skin crawling and stomachs churning, yet he'd find himself lost and unfocused without it.

Then suddenly, like an explosion, he'd be unable to handle being without it and crawl to the nearest person begging them to hurt him, to hit him, burn him, choke him or use him till he was so bruised and bloody he was unsure of up from down.

Maybe, that first person he approaches would turn him down and he'd be left scrambling to find someone willing to hurt him.

Would he go to Chuuya? Maybe that friend of his, Oda? Or would it be a man from a seedy, underground bar waiting to find someone to hurt in just the way Dazai craved?

Eventually, it'd all backfire on him. They'd hurt him too bad, break to many bones, cut too deep and maim him irreparably and he'd be left to pick himself up once more or allow himself crumble and waste away.

Dazai's desire to keep himself afloat lay within Mori, so if the man was gone, unable to keep the boys head above water, would he simply sink, allowing the water to swallow him whole and choke the life out of him?

Mori was afraid, he knew Dazai was aswell, but he knew that this fear they shared kept them stitched together, to use one another to succeed and triumph over every enemy, to keep the dark edges that surrounded them from consuming them, dragging them into an unforgiving pit that left one paralyzed.

Their fear bound them, and Mori thinks that he wouldn't have it any other way.