Chrysanthemum Garden [Dazai x Reader] ✓

4. "Boss"

'You didn't actually think that I'd let you do that, did you?'

I sat at the bench before the corporate building once again, aware of Dazai's presence as stood behind me in silence for minutes, aware that I knew he was there but decidedly keeping his proximity to me a silent remark throughout.

'I doubt things will end well if the fire spreads further than it needs to. You haven't got your "sleepy juice" on you, so what do you think Boss will say if it spreads wide enough to burn the Mafia's headquarters?'

'I'm not in the Mafia.' I uttered through gritted teeth, fists clenched with the irritation he'd been serving me since we left the cafe. 'Leave the Port Mafia out of this.'

He placed both hands on the back of the bench, caging my shoulders as he bent over to hover his head upside down to meet my gaze; his dark brown bangs hung loosely over his exposed forehead which had adopted a faint tint of red, and on his lips a faint smile lingered - that even upside down could not be mistaken for anything other than a mark of amusement.

'Haven't they done you enough harm already? - After all they've been doing to you, all these years, you still choose to leave them out of your troubles? They certainly don't deserve such a kind lady's consideration, [Y/N].'

Despite having no intention to respond aloud, I tried coming up with a justification as to why I chose to keep them out of my dispute other than my fear for them choosing to taunt me if I betrayed them; I failed to conclude an excuse:

My earliest memory of compassion within the Mafia (as ironic as it may sound) was from cherry-coloured fibres neatly tied back into a tight bun bouncing steadily towards me, and a hand that escape the sleeve of a rose kimono to offer me fruit - "This will do you good if you eat it," it said, and alongside it, they provided me with the demonstration of a great, intangible white being yielding a thin blade that skillfully cut the fruit in even pieces as it was tossed in the air; "Oranges are full of vitamins that will help you grow," they said, handing me a plate where the orange slices sat comfortably. I refused to eat the fruit, but the voice seemed hurt so I ended up taking it anyway.

There was once a ginger-haired figure that reluctantly showed up once, cursing as the door to my wooden cabinet broke; instead of blaming me for it as I expected them to, they performed a "magic trick" to brighten up that lonesome hour by hovering the unfastened metal hinges over black-gloved hands - it had been the use of their ability, no doubt, and I wished I could've been born with the same confident control of my ability as them.

An odd, evenly shaped flock of brown hair showed enthusiasm in lemons once - small, yellow and acidic fruits were strapped to their body, head to toe, and I learnt the hard way (through my gullibility, too) that these innocent-looking berries were actually compact, handcrafted bombs when their finger pressed on a button on their chest; they suggested that this could serve as an experiment to test the limits of my skin's immunity to explosions - "It's not that different from fire, anyway," so I told myself to stay, catching a glimpse of the peaceful afterlife before a force dragged me out of the room and sat me outside, door gaping open and the brown-haired figure walking out from the fog of explosion, confused, wondering how I'd managed to escape - I never figured who'd it had been.

Polite gestures occurred from time to time in the Mafia, especially from this one blonde lady (whose face I managed to recognise for she was often seen following behind Akutagawa) who sometimes sat down outside my cabinet for a small chat - those that barely lasted more than five minutes for I spoke not. Even Boss himself sometimes came by, his presence made known in the room before he had entered as the girl - whose presence he relished - ran into the room and tormented the wooden planks around the cabinet I slept in, and, later, the door once it had been fixed.