𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐀, d.osamu | ✓

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( 000. PROLOGUE )

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✧･ﾟ:┊THE RAIN BEAT DOWN ON THE GROUND WITH FULL FORCE, DRENCHING MOST PARTS OF THE PORT CITY OF YOKOHAMA.

People fled from the rain, rushing to find some shelter from the wet stuff; the ones who had started their day with checking the weather report opened their umbrellas as soon as it started drizzling, the drizzle soon bleeding into a downpour. It was only midmorning when the clouds just decided to condense, the sky filled with clouds letting shafts of light cut through them, making it an applaudable bright day. But of course, there is no such thing as a perfect day and nimbus clouds began to gather and covered the blue sky.

Some, or maybe most, didn't like the rain but Mizuki Amaya. She had checked the weather forecast but had "forgotten" to carry an umbrella. She was soaking wet from the head to the toes, her schoolbag was hanging on one shoulder, constantly soaking in the water the dark clouds poured, dampening her books and stationary. It wasn't everyday that she got to get wet in the rain. Water dripped down her hair and face, the loose strands that had slipped out of the grip of the scrunchie were stuck like glue to the side of her face and the back of her neck. Her brown eyes gleamed at the feel of water on her skin and as she splashed water around with the toe of her bright red sneakers.

The street was cleared now, not a single human being in sight.

To go home, she had to pass this dark alley, the walls of the alley having witnessed numerous murders by the Port Mafia or serial killers or even gangs. The people who lived in the same vicinity as the alley dared not go there out of fear of being killed. She didn't find it that scary. She even had gone in sometimes and found nothing but abandoned entries to the underground metro or some dried blood on the walls that the sinner forgot to clean to cover his or her tracks. Not that the police actually cared unless someone had reported the case.

As always, she stopped at the opening of the alley just to witness anything that was going to happen or was already happening. She wasn't going to report anything to the police, no, she just wanted to know how the Port Mafia did things. As bad as they may seem to the general public, nobody noticed that the mafia only killed if necessary. They never started rampages around the city for no reason at all and only harmed if it was part of the job. What she had observed in her fourteen years of living was that they never took the lives of innocent people. She liked that about them. They had morals. They weren't mindless like those little gangs with superiority complexes. But that didn't make Port Mafia any less bad.

The alley, as usual, was deserted, looking darker than normal due to the weather. Not a single sound made itself known to her ears except the pitter-patter of droplets on the concrete of the road. Unamused, she walked on upon seeing nothing happening inside. She stomped down the road, splashing water around. She could only walk a few steps ahead before hearing some steps behind her. Now she had to see, so she walked a few steps backwards, standing directly in front of the opening of the alley.

A shadow walked, the heels of his shoes clicking against against the concrete path and from what she could make out of his silhouette, his hands were in his pockets. The stranger seemed to carry no umbrella, welcoming the rain with, figuratively, open arms. Maya squinted to get a better look, the rain and the darkness the clouds brought along with them not helping the least. The shadow— a boy with choppy bangs and dressed like a man, wearing a cravat and a black trench coat, blending in with the dark walls— walked closer to her with each step he took and it seemed like he had noticed her too because he slowed his pace and eventually stopped.

He didn't know what to do for a second, but the thought of him knocked some sense into his head and immediately attacked.

Something sharp but as flexible as cloth rushed towards her, enveloping her arms and legs. It glowed a bright red, and dug into her skin, making her grit her teeth. Of course, she could scream, but the problem was that she couldn't. It would never come no matter how much she tried anyways. Her arms ached, her legs ached, her clothes felt heavy and damp, she felt warm blood seep down her limbs. Just as she was about to pass out from the excrutiating pain, blue light engulfed her; or rather, the things attacking her.

With a thud, she dropped flat on the ground, scrambling to get up the second the things left her. But before she could get up and run for her life and away from a stranger who unleashed some deadly thing onto her for no reason at all, she heard a gun cock.

The muzzle was simple inches away from her forehead, leaving her motionless from her place on the dirty and slippery ground. Her breath was lodged into her throat, but that was barely her concern, she could breathe again after she escapes.

Her breath was heavy but drowned out by the noise of the heavy rain— like white noise. It was infruriatingly annoying.

The one holding the gun, Dazai, narrowed his eyes at the girl frozen at his feet, his finger curled around the trigger but not yet pulled. He knew who she was and it would be unethical to shoot her here and now.

The clouds collided, light flashed.

"You have sixty seconds to run," he said over the rain's noise, the white noise.

She didn't need to be told twice to run and she did, her adreneline kicking in the second the word "run" filled her brain.

And the last thing she heard was yelling, the sound of a punch landing and the name,

"Dazai."

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