I Don't Smoke (bsdxmha)

Silent summer night

"Yes, well, Dazai didn't know All for One and his tormentor were the same people. With his face melted off, he had no way to tell until he met him in person. Though I'm sure he could've guessed if he tried hard enough. Now Chuuya, you must be wondering, 'What part did I have in all of this?'" Mori says. Chuuya tries to smother his shock at the accurate guess. "Don't worry, your intel was something this plan needed. The League was quite unknown to me. Your information allowed me to accurately predict the timing of the events and factor in the personalities of the members."

Chuuya appreciates the acknowledgement of his skills, even for a moment. Undercover work took a toll on him in a way he wasn't expecting; he's always been surrounded by bloodshed and violence, not nutjobs who enjoy drinking copious amounts of blood like a vampire or burnt-up losers after revenge.

"Dazai's friend is dead. He's gone, right? Oda Sakunosuke did something to ensure that he would leave."

He might hate the man. What right did he have to order Dazai to be good when Dazai was the one who brought him into the mafia in the first place? He's been abandoned again, and Chuuya thinks, does he lose everyone he chases after?

"Oda Sakunosuke was dead before Dazai could reach him. Sakaguchi must have warned him afterwards, which isn't completely unexpected. I'm surprised Dazai had it in him to defect," Mori admits, raking a gloved hand down his face. "It was the ultimate test of his humanity, I suppose. But as I know, to create a monster, you must teach it grief and suffering first."

"Sometimes I just don't get you," Chuuya speaks up. "You're all for the future of Yokohama and the Port Mafia, but you have ruined people's lives like it's a walk in the park."

Mori glances out the window and takes in the city and the port.

"You see, Chuuya, I always focus on the greater good." His hands tap the arm of his chair, a slow pattern.

"Even if you end up having to sacrifice yourself to achieve it?"

The tapping stops.

Mori smiles, something softer than Chuuya has ever seen of his calm and collected boss, and his hands sweep around his office, at all the stacks of paperwork and files. "Well, isn't that what I'm doing now?"

"Boss," Chuuya starts, confused, at a loss for words.

Mori's laugh is airy.

"Ah, 'boss'. It has a ring to it. I never intended to lead the Port Mafia, though I can't find it in myself to regret it."

The notion that Mori Ougai was unshakeable diminished right before Chuuya's eyes, and he found a sort of humanity lurking beneath. Is cruelty really kindness disguised? A perfect leader puts every person above himself, stands tall baring the sins of their men in order to continue each trembling step, to live another day and to fight for the future.

Mori walks to just before the large glass window and looks down upon the entire city. A single finger of his traces the glass.

Although Chuuya thinks he might not be able to forgive his boss for his crime against Dazai six years ago, the profound respect for him that emerged within Chuuya one year ago had barely wavered in the presence of a true leader's burden.

And so he flees with a promise of return.

—---------

His bandages are thicker than they've ever been. Dazai was a fool to believe he had truly experienced hopelessness until Oda lay cold in his arm. He's dead. He's dead - dead -

The knife in his hand clutters to the ground. He watches it gleam in the moonlight that falls through the window of the apartment. It's not the one he's been in these past few months. This one is dingy in the outskirts of Musutafu, somewhere he knows the area of. He distantly recalls being in the area The heroes are searching for him, but so is the mafia, and their influence is weaker outside Yokohama.