Only two days left until moving day, so- here is another chappy! Such an amazingly good adult. Just adultin' all over the place.
The door to the cool, tiled room opened and a familiar face appeared in the opening. A small streak of light shone on the battered face of the young teenager who sat, cradling himself on the floor.
Dazai's worried face snapped up as Mori entered the room. A twitchy but relieved smile became visible on the teens face in recognition, and Mori smiled back. Something seemed off though. Something in Mori's eyes.
Regret? Maybe even sorrow?
Dazai's faint smile morphed into a scream, as another dog was released into the room.
Mori stood expressionless and watched their prisoner. He had been fading in and out of consciousness since they arrived. The lack of smart remarks and smirks from his former apprentice was unnerving, to say the least. It was as if he was looking at the broken ten-year-old who he had saved from the very same man he now had returned him to, so many years ago.
Abducting him from the hospital had been easier than expected. As soon as The Babysitters Club had dispatched, he seemingly had free range. It turned out that there weren't many safety precautions there at all. Mori had walked in, wearing his old white coat and been assumed to be a doctor at the hospital. The elderly receptionist had not hesitated when giving up the room number, and he had walked in, injected the sleeping ADA agent with a mild tranquilizer, unhooked him from any tubes and wires and walked out of there with him in a wheelchair.
It was so easy that it almost felt anticlimactic. It only made him happy that the Port Mafia had their own medical wing, with a large staff and all the facilities necessary to treat any kind of sickness or injury.
The Armed Detective Agency clearly needed to step up their game.
The preacher himself was a big disappointment too. The large and intimidating figure was reduced to nothing more than a hunchbacked old man, who was clearly a little out of touch with reality and completely insane.
At the moment he was downstairs at the altar, switching between preaching and speaking in tongues to an imaginary congregation.
Mori chuckled. He had never in his life believed in any God.
Calmly, he walked towards Dazai, silently assessing his injuries and how much time he had left, if left in this hopeless state.
He reminisced about the first time he had seen Dazai. He passed the old church at random on his way to a mission, while a Sunday service had just finished. The preacher had stood grand and stoic, shaking every single hand as the crowd of people passed on their way out. Behind him stood a boy with half of his face covered in bandages, leaning heavily on crutches.
His black suit made him transparent with the dark walls of the church as he stood, terrified of meeting anyone's gaze. Almost invisible, to anyone but Mori.
To Mori, he shone bright like a firefly in the night. A forsaken soul, a fractured mind and an unforgivable sinner. He was perfect.
Mori asked around about the strange pair. It appeared that this preacher was well known in the more extremist Christian societies of the city at the time. The ones who longed and grasped at something or anything to save them and prove their faith. They would believe anything they were told (or shown, in this case, which further fueled the preacher's narcissism).
This was also the reason no one knew his actual name. In his everyday life, he had taken the name Gen'emon Tsushima (1), and he called Dazai, Shuji (2). But, he wanted to be known simply as the preacher. The Preacher. The one and only. He could show them God, but in his own mind, he probably was the man himself. There was no one registered by those names in Yokohama, it was not much research needed to find that out. He would only call Dazai by his real name whenever he was 'performing', an act that was exclusive and very expensive.
From that point forward, the arrangements had been easy, and Mori had manipulated the situation to seem like any other of the preacher's… gigs. The fact that the boy's mind had turned on his father was simply a very lucky coincidence.
Mori sighed and looked at the loosening bandages on Dazai's forearms. Every single day of Dazai's life was sketched onto his body in scars.
The leader of the Port Mafia scoffed as an ominous smile came to show on his lips.
"What has Skindiana Bones done this time?" sneered an aggravated Chuuya as he answered the phone.
"I might borrow that sometime," Kunikida mumbled as he waited for the rest of the agency to get seated into the cars.
"Shut your face or tell me what's going on."
"I wish I could, but I don't really know. Dazai disappeared from the hospital again sometime during the night."
"I'm shocked," he said nonchalantly, "but, I haven't heard anything from the bonehead."
"We're going to The Shinja church right now, we've looked everywhere else."
Kunikida waited for a reply. When it didn't come any, he continued.
"I thought you might like to know, in case you want to tag along."
Another silent moment, before an exasperated sigh, was heard from the other end.
"Fine!" and a short 'fuck' was heard as the connection cut.
Chuuya wasted no time as he ran to his motorcycle. It was faster and made it easier to pass all the slowpokes on the road. He wondered if he should have told them that Dazai's father was back, but he had no idea how much they already knew. There was no time to explain.
Before starting his bike he suddenly remembered something. Another curse was whispered, as he ran back in to the house and retrieved a bag that he tucked safely in the compartment under the seat before he got on the bike and raced through the morning streets, feeling the fresh puddles of rainwater splash onto his calfs as he headed for that place that made his blood freeze. He just prayed (nonono, no way) hoped it hadn't gotten out of hand.
In a different part of town, two more vehicles were speeding towards the Shinja Church. There was no way to know what they would see when they arrived. Atsushi sat in the back of Kunikida's car with Kyouka, as he usually did. Restless legs shook while worried eyes looked out the windows and no one spoke.
Ranpo sat in the passenger seat up front, while Kunikda was driving. Yosano drove the other car, with Kenji and Tanizaki.
They had to park their cars across the street at a parking lot. While they all ushered out of the vehicles, a red and black motorcycle spun past them, and the redheaded driver threw his helmet to the curb and ran to the fence that embraced the dilapidated building.
"Chuuya!" Kunikida yelled as the ran across the road.
The gate was once again chained up, and the short man furiously shook the gate before he started climbing. Kunikida quickly pulled out his notebook and drew some boltcutters that he used to clip the lock.
The gate creaked open with the startled mafia executive on top of it, clinging to it desperately while it slid to the side.
"Patience, my friend," Kenji smiled as they entered the property.
Chuuya gnarled something inaudible as he jumped off. Kunikida looked ready to open the door, but Chuuya fled up the few steps and stopped him.
"Wait," he gasped. Kunikida looked confused at him, as Chuuya let go of his tight grip of the tall man's arm.
"The doors were bolted shut the last time we were here," he said quietly. "There has definitely been someone in here since then. If it's..." how much should he actually tell them?
"Dazai's father?" Ranpo blurted out. Chuuya threw him a skeptical look.
"Do you already know?" he asked.
"No, we don't. It was an educated guess," Ranpo explained, looking a bit ashamed.
"Well, you're probably right. And if this is in fact what is going on, Dazai might be in very real danger," Chuuya explained. "Mori might be in there too. The leader of the Port Mafia."
"Why haven't you told us this befo-" Kunikida's nostrils dilated and his cheeks flushed, but he got interrupted by a dangerous stare from the small man.
"Not the time, sunshine!" Chuuya sneered. "We need to get a move on."
Chuuya had second thoughts, 'Shit, shit, shit, he's gonna hate me, he's gonna destroy me, completely obliviate me, he's gonna kill me...'
But, he was already here. And Dazai was in there.
He positioned himself to open the doors, and looked at the others, receiving a nod in return. They were ready.
The doors groaned loudly as they opened, and a deranged voice roamed through the voluminous room.
"Shower me in your light! I am nothing but a pawn. Please, listen to a sinners chagrin!"
The lights flickered, and the purple fog returned for the first time in twelve years.
Mori stood by the wall in the sanctuary, looking over to their newest arrivals with a satisfied grin.
Further down at the crossing, Dazai sat slumped on the stairs. He had been discarded of his hospital clothes and lay nearly bare except for the boxer shorts and bandages, half conscious.
A couple of feet from him, stood The Preacher with his hands reached out and eyes closed as the dark haze engulfed his son's body once again.
Dazai's weak body trembled, from fear or from pain. Maybe both. The convolutions he was far too familiar with had started, turned more violent and soon he lay limp on his side.
The earth stood still. No sound, no light, no movement, no nothing.
Until suddenly Dazai arched his broken back with a loud gasp, as the blackened fog exited from his mouth and transformed to an apparition in front of him.
The newly entered crowd stood paralyzed of the unbelievable sight. Not only was this an ability that none of them had ever seen or heard of, but it worked on Dazai. The shock was even bigger as the apparition turned more and more recognizable.
Even Mori was stunned.
It was Dazai.
(1) and (2): Gen'emon Tsushima was the name of the real Osamu Dazai's father, and Shuji was his own name before he was known as Osamu Dazai. (source: Wikipedia)
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I'm planning (at least) another two chapters, but as most of you probably know, it's usually the characters who decides what they want to do... I'm just trying to control the chaos. In the next chapter, things are going down!