The talk
At first, the man had been surprised to see a child clad in a Mafia suit approach him. He had been walking to his house and was just passing by an empty street. He looked around and saw that there was other person in the area but him and the boy. The child was short, with a thin, wiry frame that made him wonder how he even got roped into the Mafia. His black coat was sizes too big, almost drowning him.
Still, he thought it strange that the Mafia sent a child after him, a gifted. Perhaps the boy was nothing more than a messenger, or an errand runner who had happened to see him. Nonetheless, he had still defected from the Mafia, and couldn’t afford to be killed. He had a wife and children to care for. “Look, kid. I don’t want to hurt you. If you go and tell someone my whereabouts, or try to attack me, I’ll have to kill you.”
The boy smiled, his grin wider than the Cheshire cat. The man looked up and noticed that he had a white bandage covering one eye. Upon further inspection, milky-white bandages covered any part of exposed skin. But the most noticeable thing about him was his eye.
A common saying is that the eyes are the window to the soul. And if that were true, this boy had clawed himself from the pits of hell to this Earth; a vile creature that would destroy anything that it possibly could.
Instead of reflecting light, the eye on the boys face devoured it. It was a void that could swallow everything near it and feel no remorse, a black hole that would destroy anything in its path. There was no malice, anger, or spite. But just as negative emotions were absent, so was the presence of hope, or joy.
He looked at the bandage on the boy’s eye and was, for a moment, grateful that it was there so there was one less of those gaping holes to stare him down.
“Sorry old man,” the boy said lightheartedly, making comical gestures with his hands. The man’s instinct was screaming at him to get away, to run, because this situation was completely wrong. But he was completely frozen, unable to move under that predatory gaze. The child’s tone changed, his voice dripping with venom. “There’s no way for a traitor to avoid execution by the Mafia. Don’t think that you can get away easily just because you are gifted.”
The next second, the man remembered that yes, he had an ability. And he would use it on that boy. He swiftly pulled the trigger of his gun and shot the boy in the thigh. Despite the blood now pooling from the wound, there was no change in the boy’s countenance. His face remained as vacant as ever. “Special ability activation: Don Quixote’s Fallacy!” he yelled, desperate to do something, anything that would get this child away from him.
A purple mist shot from his hand to the boy. His ability allowed him to torture enemies with maddening hallucinations. Just as the mist reached the child, a blue light enveloped it, and it suddenly vanished. The man stared in absolute horror, realizing the severity of his situation. “Now, now,” the boy said in a patronizing tone, wagging his finger. “You’re not the only one with a special ability out there.” At that moment, the man realized just who was in front of him.
There had been whispers among those lower ranked in the mafia of a child that was promoted to executive status, despite rarely being present in headquarters. He was rumored to be covered in bandages, even having one covering his left eye. His stare could make even the most hardened mafiosi tremble. He had earned the moniker, “Demon Prodigy”, renowned for his intelligence and mission success rate.
He felt a jolt of pain in his abdomen.
BANG!
“I warned you,” said the boy, his voice impossibly cold.
BANG!
Another shot ripped through his chest.
“Miguel Cervantes, defection is not tolerated within the ranks of the Port Mafia. Sadly for you, no ability can trump No Longer Human.”
BANG!
The man’s lifeless body was left on the ground after Dazai had turned him over and stomped his teeth into the sidewalk. That was the sign of a Mafia killing. Three shots in the torso and a bite to the curb.
“What a silly old man, you can’t leave the Port without consequence,” He mumbled to himself. “Now he made his family get executed too.” He raised his voice and yelled, “Cleanup, I’m done with the job!”
A group of men wearing black suits came out of an abandoned building where they had been waiting and started to do their jobs. A black car pulled up and Dazai opened the door to the backseat. Without saying a word, the driver took him to his destination. He didn’t need instructions.
~~~~~
Dazai had just returned from a particularly taxing mission, wanting nothing more than to go to his favorite spot at the river, tie himself to a pack of bricks, and jump in. He had a rather nasty wound on his leg after getting shot by a traitor he was sent to kill. Well, nothing he could do about it now, the man died just as any other traitor, and despite being gifted didn’t put up much of a fight.
As he entered his room, he noticed that Featherbrain had something in her beak. Although he tried to sound nonchalant, his voice was still a bit strained from the pain. “Hey Featherbrain! Be useful for once and pass me whatever it is in your mouth.”
Featherbrain hooted in response and flew over to him, dropping a letter into his hands. Dazai turned it over and saw that it was from Blaise. He smiled, despite himself, he was glad that Blaise had made good on his promise to write.
However, just as Dazai started to rip it open, he heard another knock on his door. He quickly hid the letter underneath his pillow just as a grunt entered the room. “The boss has requested that you write a mission report and give it to him in person. Please meet him in his office in 30 minutes.” He left as quickly as he came, not wanting to be near the Demon Prodigy for any longer than he had too.
Dazai quickly wrote a mission report, filling out the paperwork in about ten minutes. He stared at the blue dress in the corner of his room, frilly and crumpled. Mori wouldn’t be too happy about that, but Dazai couldn’t care more. He quickly changed into the dress, pulling it over his head. Once he was dressed, he started reading a book to kill time.
He then left his room, walking to Mori’s office. He lived alone at the top of the Port Mafia headquarters, with only the guard stationed to stand outside his room being there. No one else was allowed up without direct orders from the Boss. If he had walked through the main floors, people would probably stare at a young boy in a frilly blue dress walking around the mafia’ s main building. He opened the door, not bothering to knock. Mori was probably used to that anyways.
“Hello, darling! Oh, you look so gorgeous in that dress. I knew this was better suited for you than white!” Mori had a slimy look on his face again, and Dazai did not appreciate being called darling.
“Get to the point Mori-san,” he said with a flat tone.
“Oh, you’re always so mean to me. I need that paperwork you have. Also, I feel the need to discuss with you the little gang you put together.” Mori’s expression changed dangerously with that last statement. “I don’t want you doing soft on me, doll. Don’t forget, you are to be the greatest symbol of fear that the Wizards have. That’s the main reason that Kouyou-kun and I created DOE, no?”
Dazai hated being called doll.
“I am not going ‘soft’, Mori-san.” His voice was laced with venom, practically dripping with every word he said. “The gang I created is a group of loyal subordinates that will do anything that I ask of them. Take me right hand man, Blaise for example. He assisted me in silencing Pomphrey and the other petrification victims.” Dazai made sure to keep his voice monotonous, not giving Mori any idea that he could even possibly care for Blaise. “People at Hogwarts are so disgustingly loyal. Most of the school hates me anyway.” His voice changed, like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. “And all of the other students are hexing me or trying to send me to prison!!!”
“Alright then, doll. That’s enough of that. Now hand me that paperwork please.” Mori smiled and took the stack of papers from the boy’s hands. He leafed through the file, nodding and making comments occasionally. Dazai stood there silently, not moving an inch. “Am I dismissed now, Mori-san?”
“It seems that you’ve forgotten that I am a doctor, pet. I know that you got injured.” Dazai stiffened with the use of that name, but even more so at the implications of that sentence. He was not willing to be treated by Mori. Not today. Not wearing this.
“I told you not to call me that”, Dazai stated coldly. “I will be leaving now.”
“No, you won’t, doll. Now be a good boy and sit right here. Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit.” Dazai’s eye followed Mori as he saw him grab a needle, gauze, and some antiseptic. He put a plethora of items on his tray and brought it over to the chair Dazai was sitting on.
“You know I hate pain. Why don’t you give me that bottle of Roxicodone and let me have them all right now!”
“Sorry dearie, but you know I can’t let you do that. Maybe once you’re done with your responsibilities, I can give you a quick and painless way to die.” As he said that, Mori injected him with what he assumed to be a painkiller and lifted the skirt of his dress up to see the wound on his leg. He unraveled bandages there, showcasing the marred flesh underneath. Burns, cuts, gunshot wounds, anything possibly used to harm someone had left his mark on Dazai’s flesh. “Oh wow, Osamu. You always find a way to make such a mess.” Before Dazai could protest, Mori used a pair of tweezers to grab the bullet still embedded right over his knee. It was painful, but nothing compared to what Father had put him through. Or Mori himself on a bad day.
Mori put iodine over the wound, rubbing it in deep. Dazai resisted the urge to move. Mori had given him express orders to not squirm about. If he did, there would be consequences. He then started stitching the wound together, slow and deliberate. Dazai felt himself growing woozy. Probably a new pain medication Mori had been experimenting with. Due to Fathers insistence that he partook in mithridatism, almost no pain meds worked on him. To have even the slightest effect, you would have to triple an adult dosage.
“What… what did….. you use…?” Dazai felt his words slur, his tongue go numb, and his head start spinning. Mori smiled and finished sewing up the leg. He expertly wrapped up the bandages once more and looked up to face Dazai.
“I tried a dose of elephant tranquilizer! Nothing really works on you anymore, and you always look so cute when you’re disoriented like this, so vulnerable and sweet~”
Dazai hated when Mori could see him asleep. Even with the sedative on the verge of knocking him out, he felt nasty. He always awoke feeling so gross, and even the scalding hot water of the shower couldn’t make him feel clean again. Against his will, his eyes slowly started closing, feeling nothing but the burning in his leg.
~~~~~~~
The Weasley family was eating lunch at the Burrow, talking about the Chuddley Cannons spectacular failure in quidditch. Charlie and Bill had come home for the holiday, and all of the siblings were re-united. “Aww Ronniekins I don’t know why you even like them~”, Fred said teasingly.
“Exactly, they never win!” George piped in. “I bet even our schools quidditch teams are better~” The family engaged in more idle chatter, until Molly Weasley walked into the room. The entire table went silent, noticing the angered expression that she donned.
“Fred. George. I need to speak to you in the living room.” Though her tone was cordial, everyone at the table could sense how livid she was. The twins shared a look of fear, then stood up and followed their mother. Molly shut the door with a loud slam. The rest of the Weasleys were still, wondering what the twins did this time.
“Ron, you hang out with Fred and George at school a lot, right?”, Arthur Weasley asked, chopping up his chicken. Ron nodded, and he continued. “I know that you three are good friends with the Demon Student. Dazai was his name, I think? Anyway, is whatever Molly is lecturing them about because of him? The Ministry has been full of whispers about how disruptive he is to the school.”
“Dad, even though Dazai is lazy and can be rather obnoxious at times, he’s not a demon. The Prophet is spouting lies because of whatever that bloke Lockhart was saying. Its all phony. He and the twins do have a similar sense of humor though. They’re always pulling pranks on people, but never something serious enough to actually hurt them. Even though he’s a Slytherin-and you know I don’t like them, I don’t think he’s half bad.” Ron did find the pranking annoying, but he felt bad for all of the negative attention Dazai was getting. He did give him a gift for joining the Hell Hounds and killed the basilisk to prevent more students from getting harmed.
Charlie cleared his throat, putting his fork down. “I have actually met Dazai once and he seemed like a nice kid. He was a bit timid though.” Ron had to choke back a laugh. Timid and Dazai did not belong in the same sentence. Charlie continued, “Also, he bonded with a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon that he calls Egg. That should be proof enough that he is a good person. Dragons are great judges of character, and I’ve never heard of one bonding with a truly malicious person. It’s the greatest act of trust possible for them to achieve with a person.”
“Mr. Dazai, though he is quite rambunctious, is not a bad kid. He never does his work though, and bothers people he shouldn’t, “Percy added.
“Alright, alright,” Arthur chuckled. “You guys seem to really like this boy.” At that moment, the door opened and Fred and George walked back to finish their food, both looking down at the floor. “Wow Molly. What in Merlin’s name did you say to get the twins to be quiet? I thought I would never see a day like this.”
Molly sighed, “Nothing much, dear. I received a letter from Hogwarts talking about the amount of pranks they pulled and trouble they caused. They deserved my lecture. I also made sure that they won’t be creating anymore prank materials for a long time, or else I won’t let them go to Hogsmeade during the year.”
“We’re sorry Mum,” said Fred.
“Yeah, we won’t do it again,” George agreed.” So, what were you guys talking about before we got here?”
Percy responded, “We were just talking about you two and Mr. Dazai’s, erm, exploits throughout the year.”
That’s a huge understatement, thought Ron. It was a wonder that the twins and Dazai hadn’t gotten suspended yet, or even expelled. But Ron noticed just how fond they were of him. Before, the twins had been sort of isolated from their family, alone in their room creating their newest experiment. It seemed that they would only ever be close to one another. But then they met Dazai.
Dazai and the twins had similar humor, enjoyed pranking people, and all three of them could be incredibly smart when they wanted too. They slowly became less isolated, and Ron knew that they saw Dazai as a younger brother, cared for him just as much as the rest of his siblings-if not more. In all honesty, it hurt Ron to see his brothers care so much about Dazai when they pushed him away for years.
But then again, the friendship allowed for the twins to lower their boundaries and learn to be better friends. He really was glad that they met Dazai, even though it stung a little that he was the reason Ron and his brother’s relationship developed.
The twins both giggled at that, Bill made a joke, and lunch continued. Ron decided that he would write a letter to Dazai. He wanted to thank him for befriending the twins, and sort of explain how he helped them in his letter. Ron excused himself and went up to his room, grabbed some parchment and a quill, and began to write.
~~~~~~
Blaise was worried. Dazai hadn’t written him yet. He knew that it had only been a short span of time since school let out, but he hoped that a letter would have reached him by now, especially after what happened with the petrification cure.
He understood the wrong of his actions, realizing that he had taken the lives of many people. Innocent people. Every single one of the people petrified by the Basilisk had dreams, and hopes, and futures. They all had their own thoughts, perspectives, and aspirations that were gone forever because of what he and Dazai did.
The part he feels the worst about though is his guilt, or rather, the lack of it. He understands that what he did was wrong, on a moral level. Acknowledged how he robbed the lives of all of those people from them. But for some reason, he felt strangely detached from the fact that he was now a murderer.
Their deaths felt strangely unreal to him, the weight of it not really sinking in until now. And all of those people died so quickly, so easily. Just a tip of a bottle caused them to never wake up again, never think again, never see their loved ones again.
Blaise had always been on the aloof side, never truly caring for anything or anyone. But then he went to Hogwarts and met Dazai, who became his best friend. He had never cared for anyone so strongly before that, and while he often couldn’t express his emotions as well as he could have, he still demonstrated just how important he considered their friendship.
Somehow, Dazai was even more emotionally detached than Blaise. Despite his best efforts, Blaise noticed when Dazai’s bandages were thicker than on other days, took into account how whenever someone asked him something relating to his home life he would change the subject in a ridiculous way. Blaise saw how he wouldn’t let anyone get close to him, turned all of his friendships into a business transaction. He realized the significance of Dazai calling him “friend” on that day where they poisoned the cure.
He shook his head, trying to remove those thoughts from his head. What’s done is done. No amount of guilt and mourning will bring them back, and no amount of thinking will help Dazai. He went and grabbed a quill and parchment from his desk and began writing his letter.
He decided to not write anything incriminating in the letter incase his parents, or even Dazai’s boss decided to read it. Mori was another issue that concerned Blaise. While Dazai was usually very unaffected by people, no matter how disgusting they were, he could sense the pure hatred that Dazai harbored towards the man. Blaise especially noted how tense he would be when people called Mori his father. Even though Blaise knew the truth that Mori was his boss, he still hoped that he wasn’t such a despicable man that Dazai would physically be upset by the mere mention of them being related.
Winter break had especially scared him. Whenever Dazai went back to his home, the Port Mafia, he always arrived number then he had left. Dazai was practically a mess at those times, completely lost in his thoughts and neglecting to care for himself. Blaise had to check to make sure he didn’t have a knife near him and force him to eat.
Once he was done writing, he put the letter in an envelope and sealed it, handing it off to his owl. “Please have this delivered to Dazai. I know that this will be a long flight for you because Japan is across the ocean, so I’ve packed some food for you,” he said. Blaise attached a small pouch of food to his owl and sent her off. He watched as she grew smaller as the distance between them lengthened, wishing her a safe journey.
Please let Dazai be alright, he pleaded to himself. I don’t want to see my friend hurt anymore.