012

It was one of those rare, quiet days in the Port Mafia.

No missions, no orders, no whispers of blood in the alleys.

Dazai Osamu wandered the halls with no real destination in mind, boredom clinging to him like static.

He passed by a few lower ranking members loitering by the armory and paused, feigning casual curiosity.

"Have you seen him around?" he asked, voice lazy, eyes half lidded.

The reaction he got was... curious.

No sneers. No tightened jaws. No veiled resentment.

"Ah, yeah. L/N-senpai headed out earlier," one of them said.

"To that district they like, the one with the riverwalk. Probably browsing cafes again."

Senpai.

Dazai blinked.

They used to hate you.

The monster with a smile, Mori’s devil apprentice.

Now, they respected you. Admired you, even. Said you got things done, clean and fast. Said Mori’s still the boss, but you were the one they trusted to keep things from falling apart.

He wasn’t surprised. It was convenient, after all.

Still, it unsettled something in him.

He followed the trail to the city, past the steel veins of Yokohama’s back alleys, into the brighter lights where you sometimes wandered when left unsupervised.

It wasn’t hard to find you. You left impressions wherever you went, like blood under fingernails.

And there you were.

Across the street, framed beneath the filtered sun, face tilted up like a wounded stray.

Dazai stilled.

You looked… pitiful.

Tearful. Lips trembling just right, hands curled shyly against your chest.

The woman you were speaking to was older, early twenties maybe. Confident in the way she held herself, in the way she didn’t immediately fall for it.

But she was blushing.

Even from across the road, Dazai could see the way her cheeks pinked as you leaned just a little closer, voice trembling with manufactured fragility.

She looked like the type who’d play hard to get, but you were clearly winning.

'Is this a mission?' Dazai wondered, stepping behind a lamppost for cover.

Unlikely. There was no tell in your posture, no subtle readiness in your stance.

This wasn’t work.

You were playing.

For curiosity, he realized. You’re experimenting again.

He watched, quiet, as you and the woman strolled down the street, ending up at a dessert shop with glass windows and pastel chairs.

He slipped inside, unnoticed, hidden behind a rack of paper menus as he observed.

You ordered something sweet, chocolate and whipped cream. The woman smiled as you fed her a bite. You smiled back, demure. Innocent.

When a speck of cream landed on her cheek, you wiped it away gently with your thumb.

The flush on her face deepened.

Dazai watched. Blinked.

You were... cute like this.

Not that it meant anything. Just an observation.

Eventually, you parted with the woman. She looked disappointed. You looked satisfied.

He followed you from a distance again as you wove through the crowded shopping district. The air smelled like sugar and sweat.

Then, your steps slowed.

You spotted someone.

Dazai followed your gaze.

A man, mid thirties, tall, well dressed. Sharp jawline, tired eyes. He was flipping through his phone with a coffee in hand.

You brightened instantly.

And then, you ran.

Not a sprint, but a calculated jog, just enough to look like you were hurrying to catch someone. Your voice lifted in a half whimper.

“Ah! Wait—!”

The man turned, startled.

You stumbled. Collided into him gently.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, bowing slightly, breathless. “I thought you were someone else…”

He was already flustered. Your tone softened further, your body language shifting, smaller, more vulnerable. You tilted your head just so, eyelashes fluttering.

Dazai could almost hear your tone. The faint tremble. The false hesitation.

It was masterful.

He leaned against the brick wall, watching in silence.

You coaxed a conversation out of the man within seconds.

He offered to buy you a drink, you declined with a shy smile. He asked your name, you gave him something fake but sweet.

He was completely disarmed.

You left him with a lingering touch to the arm, a murmured thanks, and the faintest hint of a smile.

And then you were gone.

Back into the crowd, walking as if nothing happened.

And that was when you spoke, your voice smooth and calm, though there was a gleam of amusement in your eyes.

“How much have you learned today, Dazai?”

Dazai blinked, surprised, and then stepped out from his hiding spot. Of course, you’d noticed. You always did.

“Quite a bit,” he replied, his voice even.

“But I’m sure I could learn more from you.”

You didn’t seem offended by the subtle challenge. Instead, you smiled faintly, as if you were entertained.

“Would you like to take a walk with me then?” you asked, and despite the unexpectedness, Dazai found himself following without question.

You strolled in comfortable silence for a moment, weaving between pedestrians, your expression calm, bordering on pleased.

Then Dazai spoke again. “You really go all out, don’t you, L/N-san? Tears, stumbles, wide eyes...”

“I find most people want to believe in weakness. It gives them a reason to stay.”

“You seduced two people in under an hour,” he said.

You hummed, unconcerned. “I wasn’t trying to. They were just... helpful test subjects.”

“And if they fell for you?”

“They always fall,” you said, tone light. “Eventually.”

Dazai didn’t answer. He watched your profile as you spoke, the slight lift of your chin, the curve of your smirk.

And suddenly, he imagined—

Your face, turned toward him, eyes wide, lip trembling, voice shaking.

“Don’t leave me, Dazai…”

Fake.

Absolutely fake.

But the thought hit him like a blow.

You, playing vulnerable. For him.

Not out of necessity. Not for a mission.

Just because you wanted his attention.

He clenched his fist.

It made him feel...

Powerful.

He stopped walking. His breath caught slightly.

You turned to look at him, curious. “Hm?”

He didn’t answer.

It’s just because you’re difficult, he told himself. A puzzle. Like Mori. But worse.

You tilted your head. “Are you thinking about what I’d look like crying for you?”

He didn’t respond.

You grinned wider.

“You should’ve asked me to act it out,” you teased, voice low, almost a whisper.

“I might’ve indulged you.”

He turned away.

You laughed quietly, pleased.

Dazai felt a flicker of something deep inside.

Not affection. Not desire.

But the dark bloom of possession.

You were dangerous. A manipulator. A liar.

But he wanted to win anyway.

To see your lies turn to truths.

To unravel you.

And maybe, just maybe...

To make you cry for real.

But only for him.