White Lily (Dazai Osamu x gn! Reader)

Wish

"But I guess it was my fault you joined in the first place, wasn't it?"

"Hm?" Your eyebrows twisted in subtle confusion. You cocked your head to the side and tried to take in what he said.

Chuuya's fault? Hm. Perhaps partially... but not really.

In a tiny room, in a tiny corner of existence, sat a tiny person, curled up in a ball. The figure was cold, hurt, and they were lonely. Oh so lonely. They hugged their knees close to them and stared out emptily at the nothingess before their eyes.

Softly. Then louder. Then Louder.

This lonely person heard some sounds. Fighting was it? Was that...gunfire?

The figure decided to unfurl from their fragile position. They decided to let their curiosity take them. They stared out this time, not at the room itself, but past it. Past its walls, through the tiny window they'd never cared to look through before. A window that was perfectly circular, with a clear, shiny sheen from the glare of the glass.

And there they saw something through it. A strange sight indeed. A petite man with a hat and orange colored hair...And his boss: A man with an uncanny knack for ordering human slaughter.

You remember that day clearly. A strange mix of emotions were associated with that day: Confusion, curiosity, admiration, distaste. Perhaps you were even excited by the events that took shape then.

One thing is for sure though: Despite the violence that transpired then, you felt no fear. The word simply wasn't a part of your internal dictionary.

All you remembered about your family before was that the day your parents died was the same day you'd glimpsed at the world outside of your shabby little bedroom for the very first time. The next memory you had was several years later, not too long ago: A memory of Mori.

Mori had ordered all the people in the second house you ever resided in to be killed that day. You were being kept by some business partners of the mafia after your parents went six feet under. You really knew nothing of your situation before the mafia arrived, except for the fact that these merchants had been the ones who killed your parents.

You recall peering through a glossy window and staring out at the mafia's work. You watched as they painted the house in all different shades of red as they fired their bullets and danced with their knives. You watched for a while, seeing many collapse to the floor, unable to draw another breath.

Looking back on it, any normal person would have been scared...Granted, you were the furthest thing from such. A gifted. You know what they say...'Any person with supernatural abilities must not be right in the head.'

Curiosity most certainly took the 'gifted' you. It grabbed hold of your arms, your legs, your voice, everything. There must have been some sort of glitter in your eyes. Every single fragent of you wanted the answer to a question that had surfaced for the first time in your strange, perplexing lifetime.

'Who are these people?' No.

'Why did they kill each other?' No.

'Are they coming for me next?' No.

'Are these guys dangerous?' No.

The real question you wanted to ask...It was:

'How did those people feel dying?'

The naive, unkillable 'You' couldn't contain your sudden, insatiable thirst for the answer to this question.

You thought if only you could feel like you were dying...Feel pain...Just once...then maybe you'd understand. If you could finally understand humans...would you no longer be shut in a room to rot away? Maybe, you'd finally be able to join the rest of the world- join those ordinary people and exist finally as an ordinary person.

Oh, how you'd wished...

After a while of watching the mafia's work, eventually, someone caught a glimpse of you in the room next door.

"There's someone in that room." He pointed in your direction. The person stared straight at you before sauntering over to the door of the place you were in.

Chuuya.

He ripped down the door and glared.

"So there's one more left. These guys are the ones who killed our comrades."

Chuuya moved instantly for the kill. With a large kick, fortified by gravity, he aimed to crush your skull in. Your head collided with the floor and you noticed the ground sunk in a little at the force.

The impact surprised you as the speed of his kick was that which you'd never witnessed before. You couldn't help but be a little offended the man thought you were one of 'those people', afterall, you felt outcast from such things. However, you must admit, you felt a strange amusement from what you saw when you managed to look up.

Oh, the expressions of your spectators when you didn't die from that.

That was when you met them. Chuuya and Mori.

Sensing your potential, Mori quickly called off Chuuya's attack. He very quickly extended a hand to you to help you up off the floor. It was at that moment that he offered you a place with his people. With the Port Mafia.

It was then that you'd cemented your search...Cemented your desire:

To join the rest of the world.

And you concluded, there and then, that experiencing pain was the only way to do it.

You let out a breathy sigh in response to his question.

"Chuuya, listen...My decision to join the Port Mafia had nothing to do with you. If you think I joined because I felt some sort of intimidation by you, then get that idea out of your head."

"Okay, but..." He chimed in, however, you didn't need to hear it.

"If you feel guilt over some sort of assumption you made about me or for trying to kill me, I honestly couldn't care less."

"No. That's not it. It's just..."

"It's what."

Chuuya scratched the back of his neck while grimacing. He briefly turned his head away before looking back at you. His eyes turned something along the lines of apologetic.

"If I hadn't attacked you like that and assessed the situation that day, you probably would've gone free. It's undeniable you were just a bystander caught up in someone else's mess. One with the mafia. I know it's strange, but believe it or not, I know what it's like ending up in a situation where you're forced into a new kind of world. After all, working with the Port Mafia wasn't a choice for me at first...And I figured that, while it worked out for me afterward, it wouldn't necessarily be the same case for you and some others..."

Hmph. So the infamous Chuuya Nakahara has a surprising amount of empathy for his subordinates. You must admit, you're slightly surprised. However, deep inside, you know he misunderstands the situation.

"You misunderstand, Chuuya." Your voice is a little less cold and indifferent than earlier. There's a weariness but a sincerity in your tone now. "I chose to join the Port Mafia. Period. While it's true that I want to leave now, it's undeniable that I had my own motivations for joining. So enough blaming yourself."

"Hm. I see then. If that's how you say it is then alright." Finally, Chuuya turns in the opposite direction. He starts heading out the door he entered through.

Damn. This ordeal kinda drained you. If you thought you needed a nap before, well, that necessity's been doubled now.

"You seem a bit different now, (Y/n). Must be that weirdo's influence. Well, see ya." He waves and the door shuts softly behind him. You can't help but chuckle at his words.

Hah. If only he knew the things Mr. Bag of Bandages puts you through.

You guess you are different now, though. It seems like slowly, you've begun fostering a connection with others.

Slowly, but surely. Perhaps one day, that wish of yours will come true.