𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓾𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓫𝔂 | 𝘥𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘪 𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘶

𝒾𝒾𝒾. 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽

Watching her becomes habit; a guilty pleasure of sorts that he indulges in when his mind is threatened by stagnation.

In between moments, when there is stillness, his eyes stray to her and he finds himself trying to read through all she lets him see without realizing, trying to memorize and solve her.

He does not know what he is attempting to achieve from untangling her knots and edges; just that he feels the need to understand her almost like the world will begin making sense to him as a consequence.

"You're a fucking idiot," Chuuya comments quietly, snorting derisively when he catches Osamu's gaze wandering to (Name) on the other side of the warehouse from them, all three of them crouched in their spots and awaiting an opening to make their presence known and take in the boss of a rival gang that had begun stirring trouble for the Mafia lately.

The dark-haired boy yanks Chuuya's hat down further on his head in retaliation. "Rich coming from you, midget."

Clicking his tongue, Chuuya shoots him a look that clearly states his desire to punch Osamu in the face. "Stop ogling at her, mackerel. You don't need to be getting any creepier than you already are."

Osamu scoffs. "Observing, Chuuya," he corrects, "not ogling. I was observing our dearest partner."

"Your stupid bet still going?"

He straightens, watching as the shadows on the walls of the warehouse stop seeming random, looking to him to be almost leaning in towards the centre, where the gang leader and his closest members are having a heated discussion over plans of some sort.

"Of course," he says in answer, "and I intend on winning."

Snorting once again, Chuuya rises just barely so he's hunched behind the crate they're hiding behind, muscles tense and ready to fly into action at a moments notice. "Won't make you any less of a loser though," he says before flying out from the hiding spot, running straight towards the group and sending a chunk of concrete from the ground hurtling towards them, making for an excellent diversion while (Name) materializes from the shadows behind the gang leader and takes him hostage before anyone can process a thing.

His teammates are frightfully efficient with their abilities, especially when put together. Osamu sees why Mori put all three of them together instead of the typical pair system the Mafia usually follows.

Between Osamu's exceptional observational skill and usually accurate conclusions, Chuuya's loyalty and physical expertise, and (Name)'s sense balance and subtle fatality, the three of them are invincible as a team.

There is no one else who is currently capable of taking them on that can expect to come out of it alive.

A dream team of death and destruction.

Mere children capable of unfathomable damage, and they weild their inherent chaos as easily as they breathe.

Monsters. All three of them.

Incurable? Maybe. Maybe not.

He looks at her thoughtfully again just as she steps out of the shadows that had pooled together beside him.

"Chuuya's having fun," she comments dryly. But there's warmth in the words that makes him blink. A small smile curls at her mouth and he observes idly as she watches over her red-haired friend-- because he understands now that is what Chuuya has become for her.

A friend. A confidant. Someone to trust and rely on.

And if she can smile and look out for the short menace, finding it within her to trust him and fight alongside him as more than just comrades or colleagues, but as friends, then maybe she isn't as incurable as she (and everyone else) thinks her to be.

Osamu believes that if there is someone you care for, you can't be called a monster. To care, and to sin for that sentiment is to be human in the barest and most flawed form. To be driven to recklessness by an emotion consuming enough is to be human in a kind of way that most do not want to admit to.

Humans in their rawest forms are selfish and emotional creatures after all.

He has seen the havoc Chuuya rains down on entire organizations, but he has never thought of the redhead as a monster. Because Chuuya cares. He's driven by it, in fact. And it may end up with him getting hurt in the end, but he still finds it within himself to care in spite of that.

Nakahara Chuuya is, perhaps, the most human person Osamu knows.
And because Chuuya cares, there are those that care for him too.

Like the girl of shadows who stands beside Osamu, looking more alive now that she has found someone to care for again after losing all that mattered to her with the fall of Cosmos-- the closest thing to family she must've had.

Then that makes him the only moster, he supposes. Because for all his efforts, Dazai Osamu still has little to care for in this world.

He thinks that it might be why he's so drawn to Oda Sakunosuke's company-- because Oda cares, and his warmth and humanity are so, so bright, it's hard for someone as cold as Osamu to not naturally be lured in.

The bright attract the broken.

Then, by applying that very logic, perhaps (Surname) (Name) is a contradictory bit of brightness as well, and the fact has yet to be realised by her, or by anyone else for that matter.

Because Osamu is broken. He knows this just as he knows the sun is a star or the sky is blue. His mind doesn't quite work the same as everyone else's and he doesn't feel things as strongly as he ought to. Remorse-- a quality intrinsic to man-- doesn't come easy to him, and the lines of black and white blur until all he can see is gray.

It's an obvious conclusion to make that there must be something not quite right with him. He is a defect of this world. Broken.

And if this ghost girl who smiles kindly at her friend and cares secretly from afar attracts a broken boy like him, then she must be brighter than he understands just yet.

Eventually, he tells himself, he will. He has sworn to figure her out, and he will get to the bottom of the enigma that surrounds her.

The broken are drawn to the bright, after all. And perhaps he is but a moth to a flame.