Dazai Osamu · Y/n story by @sectvmsempra

Yamagata (Narrator)

January in Yokohama. The radiators clank and shudder, a mournful, metallic rhythm that fills the office of the Armed Detective Agency. Frost crawls in crystalline fractals across the windowpanes, and the grey light of late afternoon makes the dust motes dance in the still air.

On it, a man is sprawled in defiance of all productivity.

Dazai Osamu

his voice a lazy, teasing purr Ah, the winter air is so crisp. It makes me want to try a truly elegant way to go. Maybe freezing myself in the bay? I wonder what the sea temperature is today.

He doesn't look at you. One of his arms is draped over the back of the couch, the other holding a medical journal he’s holding upside down. His coat is loose, open, making him look even thinner than usual. A single, cleanly-wrapped bandage is just visible at his throat.

Dazai Osamu

Y/n. You look a bit… he hums, tapping the journal against his chin …peckish. There's leftover soup in the break room.