Family (Or Something)

Arrogance may as well be a talent

Shirt always tucked in properly, bandages always tight, never dangling or coming loose, always doing up his bed and keep his laundry in the basket out of sight of the doorway, he managed to remain consistently presentable in both self and surroundings. He always walked gracefully-- if a little slowly-- even when he had that large boot cast on, and it was odd to look at.

He supposed that he was taught to always be presentable because of his previous employment as a Port Mafia executive, and from the revelation that the boss himself brought him officially into the crime syndicate, he was likely taught to always remain composed and calm, no matter the situation he was in.

"Officially brought in?" The teacher shifted his shoulder bag to the opposite side of himself, rolling the previously occupied shoulder.

"My father was a high ranking member of the Mafia, so I was there for the most part, lived on the premises and everything, but wasn't officially a member till I was eleven." In Dazai's periphery he saw the man nod slightly at his explanation.

"Where's your father?"

"Dead, as of now. Things change though." Aizawa stared incredulously at him. He wasn't sure whether he'd pity the boy or not if he genuinely thought that his father may miraculously rise from the grave to reunite with him, but he had an inkling of an idea that that was not the case. Dazai had shown himself base his lines of thought within logic and reality, not something so far off as necromancy or... zombies.

"Sorry for your loss. Holding out on him... rising up or something?" He asked tentatively.

"Hardly. Just sometimes the dead just don't want to stay down, whether it's for better or worse." Aizawa hummed in response, conflicted on whether or not he wanted to know what that meant.

Dazai began frowning at the horizon once more as they walked. They were nearing the school itself, and the gates and walls were far more visible. He squinted oddly.

"What's wrong?" He looked between the teen and the wall, not understanding what caught his attention so suddenly.

"I think... something may be happening." His gaze further narrowed, looking suspiciously at the walls. Aizawa looked a little harder this time and found he could see smoke. It didn't seem like much, not a noticeable amount anyway, but it was there no doubt.

"What the hell..." Aizawa muttered, squinting harder at the smoke, tired eyes protesting the strain and the lashes of cold wind battering them. The dark smoke billowing I'm front of them grew, far more and far darker then just a moment earlier, the tell that whatever fire was causing this was growing rather quickly.

Aizawa felt himself tense, instinctively reaching for Dazai, clasping his arm over his boney shoulder and gently tugging him closer to him, half behind him and half at his side. He received a startled noise from the boy when he made contact, but this wasn't exactly the moment for him to focus on the kids comfort zone.

The suddenness in which the wall was sliced through was staggering, the material that pierced the thick stone and steel barrier was hard to mark out, but it was a pure, deep black that wriggled about as if alive.

Proceeding the sudden mutilation of the wall, bright blue fire sent the cut out section flying forward at a high velocity, digging up grass and dirt as it broke apart and rolled, the crashes of breaking stone and crackles of fire sent him reeling, folding himself over the teen sending them both to the ground, using his body to shield the other from debri, back knocked by hot metal and concrete.

Aizawa's ears rang from the sounds of explosions, tilting his head to the side slightly to glance upwards to the source, catching sight of a young blonde woman he could not recognize throwing grenades at any and all nearby, most likely looking to cut off escape.