Chapter 1
The glass fogged over as his breath reached it, staring without seeing at the droplet of water sliding down the side of his cup, down, down, and onto the wooden surface of the bar he was currently slumped against.
He didn’t have the strength to sit straight, in fact, he didn’t have any energy at all. His bandaged fingers tapped an unknown rhythm onto the glass, content to just sit there and let his mind wander. Lost in the hundred different thoughts currently swarming in his brain.
He turned his head as he heard someone approaching the bar, face softening as he spotted the newcomer.
“Odasaku.” He greeted in a low whine, hair falling over his eyes as he pressed his forehead to the cool surface of the bar once more.
“What’s wrong?” Oda asked softly, sliding into the seat next to his, hand already reaching for the glass of whiskey Dazai had ordered for him in advance. It was a familiar routine for them at this point. “You look gloomier than usual.”
“D’ya think if I asked really really nicely, the barkeep would let me have some bleach?” He mumbled, eyes crinkling at the pleasant thought.
“No, but he might give you some crackers instead.” Oda gently patted Dazai on the shoulder, his eyes serious despite the placating gesture. “What’s really going on, Dazai?”
“The Boss is sending me on a new mission.” He finally straightened up, leaning back into his chair, raising the glass to his lips, draining it in one go.
“Well, you’re an executive now, isn’t that normal?”
“This one is different,” Dazai explained, gesturing to the barman for a refill, eyes lighting up as he saw a little bowl of crackers being slid his way. Looking down at his bandaged arms, he fiddled with his cuffs, tugging his sleeves lower. “There’s something I haven’t told you about myself…” He whispered as to keep this for only Oda’s ears.
“Oh?” The man was watching him with the weird look he sometimes had in his eyes, one that Dazai had only ever seen when Oda was talking to his kids. Seeing it directed at him now made something in his chest twinge.
“When I was eleven, I got a letter from a school in Scotland.” Dazai started slowly, looking at the ice cubes as they gradually crumbled into his drink, melting with time. “The boss at the time hadn’t been too keen on letting me go anywhere, so the matter had been quickly disregarded.” He breathed in deeply and slowly let it out, meeting Odasaku’s eyes for the first time tonight. “Mori wants me to go there now, to infiltrate and gather information.”
“A school in Scotland?” Kind eyes looked at him with intent, patient in their waiting. “What’s so special about it?”
Steeling himself, he spoke calmly and clearly. “It’s a school for magic.”
“Magic? As in abilities-?” and of course Odasaku would believe him, not even bothering to ask if this was some kind of joke. Only asking for clarification. Despite his inner turmoil, a small smile grazed his lips.
“As in witches, wizards, flying brooms, and pointy hats.” He joked feebly.
“Are you telling me that you have magic, Dazai?”
“Yes… I mean, it’s not like I ever got to actually learn to control it, but I’ve always had this- this power, besides No longer human, I mean.” Heavy darkness surrounding him, windows cracking and shattering, light bulbs flickering and exploding with every scream that tore through his throat. “Things sometimes happen around me and it just reacts to my emotions, although we both know I don’t have a lot of those.” He chuckled, the sound wrong to his own ears.
“Dazai…” He couldn’t look at those eyes for much longer, he busied himself once more by staring at his glass, resuming the tapping, if only to have something to do.
“Mori got word that something is happening over there, he wants me to join the school and find out what exactly we are dealing with.”
He’d said that whatever it was, it was surely going to affect them, even all the way here in Yokohama.
“How long will you be gone?” Oda asked, knowing that something more was bothering his friend.
“A year, maybe more… It will all depend on how fast I can get my information and what I find there.” Dazai sees Odasaku’s eyes widen, gaze shining with unspoken emotions before his features are schooled into something more neutral. “I can come back on Christmas and during the summer. It’s a boarding school so who knows…” He sighs, smiling falsely. “I’ve never been to school before, do you think I’ll meet some beautiful ladies to commit a double suicide with me?”
Oda only looks at him with exasperation, taking his attempt to lighten the mood in stride, despite the knowing look in his eyes, he says. “Be careful, alright? Don’t do anything reckless while I can’t reach you over there.”
“Me? Never! You should know better than that Odasaku.” Dazai leans his shoulder against Oda’s, nudging him playfully. Despite his aversion to touch, Oda has always managed to be an exception to the rule.
“I do know you better, that’s why I’m warning you.” A smirk stretches the man’s stoic features, “Take care of yourself.”
“I’ll call you all the time, Oda, or maybe I’ll send you postcards or something,” He touches his chin in contemplation, thinking. “I’m not sure how well magic and technology mix yet.” And after a moment. “Will you tell Ango for me? We can’t go into detail but at least tell him why I couldn’t say goodbye…”
Odasaku nodded, smiling into his glass as he drank. Looking at him softly, Dazai stifled the feeling rising in his chest, squeezing against his ribs painfully. It was only one mission, he would be back before he knew it.
Right?
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The cold air hit his skin, soft wind making his hair stand on end as he shuffled down the road. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his eye, the one not currently wrapped in bandages, gazed onto the abandoned trail ahead of him, nose wrinkling at the prominent and disturbingly familiar smell of garbage and waste.
His shipping container would soon come into view and he would at least be sheltered from the wind, if not from the cold. Gazing to his left at Yokohama’s port, he wondered if it would be a good time to take a dive, maybe try his luck once more, and see where fate would take him.
As soon as the thought came to mind, a noise drew his attention. Without looking up, he knew who was waiting for him, leaning against the metal door leading to his makeshift home.
Chuuya Nakahara had been a thorn in his side for almost a year now. They’d met at fourteen, one year after Mori had taken over and the slug hadn’t left his side since.
He suppressed a smile as he crossed the distance between them, eyes narrowing on the red-head. “Chuuya.” He enunciated. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”
The fifteen-year-old straightened his posture, arms unfolding and sinking into his pockets. “Shut it, Mackerel, you know why I’m here.”
Sighing dramatically, he sidestepped the teen, nudging the metal door to his container in the correct places so as to get his keys to work on opening the door. The rusty surface had always given him undeserved grief. One day he was sure he was going to get stuck inside. With an annoyingly harsh noise, one that grated on his ears, it finally opened. He walked in, wordlessly expecting his partner to follow as he stepped into the cold, depressingly vacant space.
Flopping into his turning chair, sliding back a little, and twirling around, he took a moment to look at the teen. Chuuya’s hair was disheveled, his orange locks sticking out in various places, and his hat barely hanging on, as If he hadn’t been bothered to adjust it recently. Dark bags, mirroring his own, adorned his pale face, a testament to the day he’s had.
“I’m guessing Mori told you…?” The ginger remained standing, as Dazai had taken the only available seat in the small space, discounting the ratty old, fraying mattress huddled pathetically in the corner of the container.
“Of course he told me,” His tone held something heavier within it. Not the usual banter-induced anger he reserved for Dazai, but something darker. “Did you think you could just leave without saying anything?”
“Aww is Chuuya going to miss me?” He leaned in, back leaving the comfort of his worn leather chair as he regarded the gravity user closely, gaze serious despite the lightness of his words.
“Go jump off a bridge, shitty-zai.”
“Hm, maybe later.” He waved a hand dismissively, eyes narrowing at the teen’s white knuckles. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, remembering his conversation with Mori earlier that day. The slimy bastard had been his usual creepy self, always doing whatever he pleased. Dazai scratched his wrist at the reminder.
“Whatever.” Despite the harsh words, the teen seemed to deflate, his anger simmering down. “I’ll be even stronger by the time you’re back, so you better be quick about it, or I’ll leave you in the dust.” Dazai couldn’t help but smirk, understanding the teen without having to make him say the words out loud.
His partner would be here, waiting for him when he got back. Ready for Soukoku to get back on track.
“Try to grow a little bit taller too, couldn’t hurt to try, Chibi.” He was dodging the kick aimed his way even before the fiery redhead could move, laughing as the teen lunged at him once more.
The clatter of metal and crunching gravity would be heard throughout the entire dumping site that night. Not that they cared enough to notice.
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“Are you ready?” Mori’s low voice asked from his seat on his desk chair, his hands held in front of him, fingers intertwined as he looked at Dazai carefully. Elise sat gingerly on top of the wooden surface, legs swinging, humming a creepy melody under her breath. Dazai learned long ago to tune her out when dealing with Mori.
Their little song and dance had only gotten more complicated as Mori had taken over the Mafia two years ago. “As ready as I can be.”
“Hirotsu will be driving you to the airport, and a representative from the school will be picking you up from there.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Standing there in front of Mori, he was almost impatient to go. He figured that if he ever found himself missing Yokohama, he could always remember this moment right here, to dispel any unwanted sentiments. All it would take was to remind himself of this unsettling feeling of familiar wrongness, every time he was in the same room as his boss. He would place all his cards on his homesickness magically disappearing, then, pun unintended.
“Come here, Osamu.” The man gestured to the space in front of his seat. Eyes narrowed in contemplation. Unwittingly, despite every muscle in his body protesting against the action, he found himself advancing, crouching down onto one knee in front of the man as he gestured for him to do so.
Long, thin fingers went around his dress shirt, slipping under the band of his tie and sliding until they were straightening it properly. Dazai suppressed the urge to flinch, having been used to submitting himself to Mori’s whims for years now. His expression remained unchanged as the man slid a hand up his neck to rest on his cheek, finger trailing along the edges of the bandages wrapped around his eye. “Don’t disappoint me.” The doctor said with measured words, his touch still impossibly soft despite the harshness of his tone. “I expect you to give this mission your all. It will be greatly beneficial for the port mafia to gain access to the wizarding world once more. Not to mention for you to gain training in using your powers.”
Dazai didn’t waste any time standing back up, putting distance between himself and the man as soon as he could, still maintaining his composure with fragile bones, fraying at the seams.
“I already told you I’d do it.” Looking away, he adjusted his tie to his liking, uncaring of the effort Mori had placed in straightening it. “You know I don’t do things by halves, old man.”
“So mean,” The man whined, his voice taking on a lighter tone as he settled back into his chair, head falling to the side as he spoke to the fifteen-year-old. “It’s not my fault you have to do this now, we’d have infiltrated the wizarding world years ago if your father hadn’t been so stubborn.”
“Then maybe you should have killed him sooner.” The words he spoke were uncaring in their nature, although they seemed to trigger something darker, a tension rising in the room, hanging in the space between them.
Mori hummed, eyes narrowing, “Maybe so.” He sighed dramatically, “But alas, the past is past, I’d wish you good luck on your mission but we both know that luck will have nothing to do with it.”
“Well…” He waved a hand behind his shoulder nonchalantly, walking away. “See ya, boss.” His suitcase was already safely tucked away in the car and Hirotsu stood waiting patiently, a cigarette lit lazily in his fingers as he leaned against the vehicle.
With a nod, the man opened the door for him and crossed over to get into the driver’s seat. Dazai climbed in without a backward glance.
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Severus doesn’t know how he ever let Dumbledore persuade him into doing this. He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, casting a discrete tempest and waiting for the transfer student to finally show himself.
The fact that there was a transfer student to begin with, was already a rare occurrence. To have one join this late in the curriculum, let alone without any previous education, was unprecedented.
A Japanese muggle-born who had slipped through the cracks. It was a wonder the child hadn’t developed into something darker. Snape shuddered at the probable repercussions that came from such a fatal blunder.
Albus had tasked him with the introduction of said blunder to the wizarding world. A task that Severus, humbly admitted to be wholly unequipped for. He had enough teenagers to deal with on a regular basis, adding a newly discovered, ignorant, and untrained fifteen-year-old to the mix was sure to get his blood pressure running high.
As If summoned by his cynical thoughts alone, a boy finally stepped out of the airport arrival line, heading his way, towards the paper holding his name.
The first impression Severus got, was that the boy was smaller than he expected. He wasn’t short, in fact, he was slightly taller than what was considered average for his age, however, his face was gaunt, cheeks sunken, obvious signs of malnutrition evident in every sharp angle of his face and body.
Bandages twisted and looped around every visible inch of his skin, creating a sharp contrast against the dark suit he wore, a black coat that reached his ankles flowing with every move he made as he approached the waiting professor. Dark black gloves adorned his hand and a set of bandages was even wrapped around his right eye, disappearing beneath brown curled locks of hair that fell across his face in short waves.
Was this what muggle children called fashion these days? Or was the boy prone to accidents? Either way, his first impression did not bode well for the rest of the year.
Their gazes met and Severus shivered.
Dark purple bags framed tired eyes, sinkholes that seemed to suck out the light around it as if a void had erupted, one that was made to encompass anything in its wake and shined red in the light.
Severus suppressed the urge to step back and away as those eyes looked upon his own, mentally berating himself for his reaction as he looked at this poor imitation of a human being.
The boy’s face twisted itself into animation the closer he got, as if he a doll that had been wound up, a plastic smile stretched his features as he stopped just short of close enough. “Hello,” He greeted in a sweet, soft voice, bowing at the waist shortly before straightening.
“Dazai Osamu, I presume?” He spoke after a moment of silence, urging himself to dispel his irrational thoughts. He knew it would not do well to judge a child by their appearance.
“Yes, and I’m guessing you are the school’s representative.” He could swear the boy had assessed him just as thoroughly as he had done himself.
“My name is Severus Snape, however you may address me as Professor Snape, or Sir, as I will be your potion’s master. I am also head of house Slytherin.” He introduced himself monotonously, eying the boy in front of him.
Dazai raked his mind for the information he had managed to gain on his own. ‘Slytherin’ was a part of the classification system they had in place for the students of the school, if he remembered correctly.
After Mori contacted the school to trigger his enrollment, the headmaster took it upon himself to send over a series of books containing the entire theoretical curriculum from first to fourth year. One in particular, entitled Hogwarts: A History, had contained everything he needed to know about the school. He had spent multiple weeks devouring every piece of information he could get his hands on.
“Professor Snape it is.” He answered with a closed-eyed smile, uneasy with the emotion he was constantly trying to display all at once. His face was almost unused to it at this point. “Shall we?”
Severus couldn’t help but feel dread pool into his guts as he looked at this new student. Somehow, he just knew the boy would be trouble.
chapter 2 is already up in the link in my insta bio