smoke and mirrors | akutagawa r. × reader ▪ dazai o. × reader

SMOKE AND MIRRORS.

Yokohama.

Quite a pleasant city at first glance. Almost harmless. Until it isn't. Until the mask cracks from side to side, shattering silently before eyes wide in fear, falling to the ground with a dull thud like the many, many lives it shattered in its iron grip in a revealing of its bloody nature.

For Yokohama was nothing but a devil in disguise, atrocities concealed behind pleasant avenues filled with soft laughter and pleasant chatter, passers-by walking on cold pavements, all too aware that should they linger on the dark streets in the night, blood would be shed, flowing across the streets in a river of dark crimson.

A city of smoke and mirrors, of lies, of deadly schemes so tightly entangled it became almost impossible to discern just what exactly was the truth, or was the truth itself no more than a sweet little lie?

Nothing less was to be expected from a city known as a gangster's paradise all over the world. Tall buildings as dark as the shadows they casted over the city they controlled where a powerful criminal syndicate extended its influence in a worldwide network of influence, a devilish spider careful not to venture in the light. Its many eyes watching as poor unfortunate souls stumbled in its web, observing oh so intently as they struggled to get out, countless ears listening to their cries of anguish as they realised the bitter truth—

Too late.

Slipping through justice's mesh in a never ending game of cat and mouse in which no one quite knew just who occupied which position, the Port Mafia ruled over an empire of crime carefully crafted with secrets whispered over agonising corpses destined to rot in hell, three bullets imbedded in their chests as their only shrouds. Oh, there was a faint glimmer of hope, yes, a five-story building composed of bricks twice as old as the so-called good detectives it harboured standing tall despite their incessant assaults.

Tell me, how long will it last? How long until its walls come tumbling down in silence as they watch, silently judging, their gaze comparable to the one casted by an executioner as they swung their axe high in the skies, an endless movement a hundred times repeated?

Them.

Faceless silhouettes clad in black, crimson fabric wrapped tightly around their fingers as if a silent reminder of all the blood shed by those sinful hands. They roamed Yokohama in the dark of the night, the silver orb of the Moon high above in a starless firmament catching a glimpse of an ebony coat around the corner of the street. Shadows amongst shadows. They could have been so much more and yet, by a bloody, cruel twist of fate, ended up wielding Thanatos' burden, leaving a trail of corpses in their wake.

Yokohama's children, the lonely ones whose clothes were stained with hopes and dreams that had once been theirs, bloodstains spread over their shoes as they departed, leaving behind their back a distorted cacophony of strangled screams. The ones who lived in pain. The ones who by any means necessary, would earn what they craved the most, what they fought for until nothing was left but them, bruised, dried tears over their pale features, but unbowed. The ones who answered to an oh so fitting name.

The Wardens of the Night.

Heed my warning.

You may find yourself in this gods forsaken city, or, even worse, come across one of them when you least expect it.

To whoever reads those words, be careful.

Nothing is as it seems.

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CAST| They who wield a lethiferous burden

XIV. Izanami (Y/N)

Ability. A Waltz of Shadows

"You only have one life. Better enjoy it while you still can."

Superpowers- Dallas

XIII. Dazai Osamu

Ability. No Longer Human

"Evil expects evil from others."

Outrunning Karma- Alec Benjamin (slowed version)

XV. Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Ability. Rashomon

"The weak must die. Die and make way for other."

The Hate Inside- Sam Tinnesz

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Author's words||
Y/N will be referred to as Izanami most of the time, or by no name at all. Izanami's presence will affect our dear mafiosi and detectives in more ways than once, altering the very core of their lives.
I strongly advise you to read between the lines, for many, many things will be hinted but never explicitly mentioned until the time is right.
Every single word may or may not hold another meaning.
Until then, I hope you will enjoy this beautiful mess I call a story.

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