The morning in Yokohama was strangely quiet, considering the chaos unfolding just outside the city. The sounds of distant gunfire and explosions echoed faintly through the streets, as the American army, under the command of Fitzgerald, the Guild leader, launched their assault on the city. The civilians had already been evacuated—thanks to Dazai's predictions and early warnings—but now, only a select few remained in the city: the ADA and the Port Mafia. In the safety of the cafe, both factions sat across from each other, sipping their beverages and listening to the muffled sounds of war that seemed far too close for comfort.

Dazai Osamu sat at his usual spot, gazing lazily at his untouched cup of coffee. He had been waiting for this moment all morning—a small ritual to bring some peace before things inevitably escalated. The calm before the storm. But even now, despite the distant rumbling of the battlefield, the tension in the cafe felt like a strange counterpoint to the ongoing chaos.

"Can you believe this Fitzgerald?" Fukuzawa muttered, his eyes dark with concern. He sat across from Mori, both leaders quietly discussing the situation at hand. "I never thought I'd see the day when the Guild would send their army to Yokohama. How ridiculous."

Mori took a sip of his tea, his expression as calm as ever. "It's predictable. Fitzgerald always thinks he's in control. But the American army..." He shook his head slightly. "They've underestimated the strength of this city. It won't be so easy."

At the same time, Dazai's hand hovered over his coffee, his eyes following the conversations around him with a detached amusement. It was an oddly tranquil scene in the middle of a storm, and yet, it felt strangely off. The tension was thick in the air—like everything was about to snap.

"Well, if Fitzgerald really thinks he can conquer Yokohama this easily," Dazai mused, his voice light but filled with a subtle edge, "he has another thing coming."

"Don't start, Dazai," Kunikida said, glancing at him sharply from across the table. "You already warned them. The civilians are safe. We don't need you stirring things up any more than they already are."

Dazai grinned, still staring at his coffee. "Ah, Kunikida. Can't a man enjoy his coffee in peace?"

Fukuzawa's voice was quiet but stern. "You may be right, Dazai. The civilians are safe, but the city is still under threat. The soldiers are closing in. We'll need to act fast if we want to secure this city."

Just then, as if on cue, the unmistakable sound of gunfire broke through the conversation. A bullet pierced the air and shattered the cafe's glass window with a sharp crack. Dazai's coffee cup exploded in a spray of porcelain, the steaming liquid splattering across the table and his clothes. The room fell silent for a moment, the tension breaking in an instant.

Dazai's eyes narrowed, the playful look on his face slipping into something colder, darker. His gaze shifted toward the shattered window, a flash of anger crossing his features.

"Well, that's rude," he muttered under his breath. He didn't wait for anyone to stop him.

"Dazai—!" Kunikida began to protest, his voice rising, but Dazai was already on his feet, moving toward the door with a sudden urgency that sent a shiver down everyone's spine.

"Let him go," Mori said quietly, glancing at the others with a calm, almost knowing look. "Once he flips that switch, no one can stop him."

The ADA members exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them dared to argue. Dazai was different when he was pushed to this point. The playful, laid-back facade slipped away, leaving a dangerous, untamable force. And once he turned on, it was as though no one existed except for the target in front of him.

Outside the cafe, the streets of Yokohama were chaotic, filled with soldiers who had no idea who or what they were dealing with. Dazai moved swiftly, a knife already in his hand. Without hesitation, he sliced through the first soldier who crossed his path, the blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. His movements were fluid, practiced—he wasn't just attacking; he was cutting through the chaos, and in a way, it seemed almost graceful.

The rest of the American soldiers, seeing their comrades fall without warning, began to fire back. But Dazai was already too fast. He discarded the knife and pulled out a gun, the report of each shot cutting through the air as he took down soldier after soldier with cold accuracy.

Inside the cafe, the members of both the ADA and Port Mafia watched as Dazai carved his way through the city, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Kunikida's hand twitched toward his own gun, but Fukuzawa placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Like I said," Mori spoke softly, "no one stops him when he's like this."

"I know…" Kunikida muttered, watching helplessly as Dazai continued his path of destruction outside. "But it's hard to watch him do this. I know he can handle it, but—"

"It's Dazai's way," Fukuzawa finished for him, his voice steady. "He's been through worse. And this... this is how he copes."

Minutes later, the gunfire slowed, and then stopped entirely. Dazai, now covered in blood from head to toe, stood in the middle of the street, his chest rising and falling with a steady breath. He had wiped out the entire group of soldiers in his path, his expression eerily calm as he surveyed the carnage.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Dazai turned and walked back toward the cafe, the cold air around him seeming to chill in his wake. His clothes were stained, his face expressionless as he pushed open the door and stepped back into the warmth of the cafe.

The silence that greeted him was heavy. Mori didn't look up from his seat, but he slid a new cup of coffee toward Dazai without saying a word. Dazai picked it up, still covered in blood, and took a long, slow sip, his eyes closing in satisfaction.

"Thanks, Mori," Dazai said, as though nothing had happened. His voice was calm again, as if the storm inside him had passed.

Kunikida stared at him, wide-eyed and still in shock. "How do you… how can you stay so calm after everything outside? You just—"

Dazai smiled at him, wiping a bit of blood from his lips. "Kunikida, I've learned a lot of things in my life, but you'll learn this soon enough: when you've seen enough blood, you stop thinking about it. You just get used to it."

Atsushi, who had been quiet this whole time, finally spoke up. "Dazai, how do you—"

"Relax, Atsushi," Dazai cut him off, his smile widening. "I'm just here for the coffee now. Everything else is just... details."

Fukuzawa sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You really are something, Dazai."

"Thank you," Dazai said with a mischievous grin. "I do try my best."

I hope you loved reading this story. I got inspiraction from one fanfiction I've read a long time ago. I changed a lot of thing that is conecting to the original work. I would leave the name of the creator but I couldn't find the fiction enymore.