Helloooo, can you do headcanons on Dazai having a strong S/O (ability wise) like nearly as strong as Chuuya? Cause isn't he a literal God lol. Thank you :]
Hewo! I had a lot of fun writing this...it almost turned out to be a oneshot :p , but dw, I managed to turn it into hcs :D
Here u go~
Thunderstruck⚡
Dazai x gn!reader
Reader has a strong ability...like, rlly cool 😎 it's my dream ability
This man is head over heels.
He loves how you scream over a cockroach but can rip people to shreds at the same time.
Since you didn’t mention any specific ability, I have gone ahead and given you a lightning ability.
Arahabaki is the god of calamity, that combined with Chuuya.
Raijin is the God of lightening. Your ability is pretty similar to His powers.
You can control the place, time and method of a lightning strike. You can also produce it on the spot and shoot it from your hands...kinda like Palpatine.
Your eyes turn arctic blue, with your hair flowing around you. You look like a literal Goddess/God.
He was mesmerised when he witnessed it in action for the first time.
You and Dazai were walking through Yokohama, observing the internal beauty of the city via small lanes and random alleyways.
Hand-in-hand, you two were chatting about how Dazai hadn’t tried the Napolitana pasta yet, despite living in a city that was rumoured to have invented the dish.
That’s when Dazai pulled you around a random corner and shielded you from the view of the road you two were originally walking on.
You knew better than to speak at such a moment and decided to observe and try to pick any signs of being followed.
Sure enough, you could hear faint footsteps come to a stop right at the corner, you two still being shielded by the corner. You both waited with bated breath, and after a while, the person went away.
Relieved, you were about to walk out of your hiding place, when a barrel placed itself on your head from behind. Your eyes widened and you froze in place. Dazai noticed the unknown presence and looked behind only to find you being held a hostage.
“Long time, Mr. Executive!”, the man holding you hostage said as he grinned at Dazai.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in prison, Ito san?”, Dazai said, offering him his own smile.
You could easily read through his façade. The smile was only a mask, covering his panic and fear. You had no experience in fighting, and Dazai was no match for this man. He had fought him earlier, but that was when he had Chuuya by his side. Dazai can come up with a spectacular and manipulative plan, and Chuuya, or his current ada partner, Kunikida, can execute it, considering their brawn. He was the brains, and his partners had always been the brawn. He can fight the occasional criminal, but Ito was a feared enemy of the mafia, who was both mentally and physically strong. He had always assumed that the mafia had caught him, and sent him to jail, thanks to the mafias feared double black, but apparently, he had gotten away, or had found a way to break out of prison.
“prison isn’t a place for a man like me; you of all people know that. So, I left! Decided to say hello to an old friend, now that I’m back.”
He moved his gun from your head, dragging it down to your chin.
“Turns out, my visit might actually kill two birds with one stone.”
Understanding the hidden meaning behind his words, Dazai tensed up. He couldn’t let him hurt you. He had to get you out f here. But how is he going to do that? There is no way out of this without either of you getting hurt. He must protect you, but what must he do?
You chuckled.
“Something funny, pretty thing?”
“Actually, yes.”, you say, “Do you know who you’re threatening?”, you smirk, your tone dangerously low and intimidating.
“You’re playing a dangerous game; Ito-san, wasn’t it?”
The man grabbed your chin, turning you to face him.
“I was going to let you go, but I suppose your naivety deserves a bullet to the head!”
You smiled, activating your ability.
A sudden jolt of electricity travelled into his body. Yelping, he let go of you. Using this window of opportunity, you kicked the gun out of his hand and pushed yourself away from him. Dazai quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the man, and out of the alley. His main intention was to get you away from here. Away from danger. He hadn’t understood what had just happened, but he decided that right now, running was the best course of action.
You two turned multiple corners, crossed many junctions, and ended up at an open field. Beyond the field, a few blocks away, was a metro station. You two could head to safety from there. All you had to do was cross this abandoned field and get in the metro.
Multiple men, clad in a uniform of sorts, emerged from the shadows, circling you both.
“Thought you could run away, did you?”, Ito stepped into the circle, a proud smirk on his face.
“You will face the consequences for destroying my gang. We never broke apart, you see. All of us are back. And we will take over the mafia, defeat the ada, and control this city.”
“Good luck with that.”, you say as you let go of Dazai’s hand, ignoring his warnings to stay back. Kinda like that scene with odasaku :')
You spread your arms wide, activating your ability. Bolts of lightning shot out from your fingers, hitting a few of the men, dropping them to the ground.
The men had no time to react as you swiftly raised yourself off the ground, hovering over them, and unleashed your signature move, striking them with a large bolt of lightning from the sky.
The head of the group, Ito, activated his own ability, the ability to control metal. Multiple guns aimed themselves at you and began shooting.
You created a shield around yourself, effectively blocking the hundreds of bullets.
Meanwhile, Dazai sneaked behind the others, incapacitating them.
You continued to fight Ito, blocking his attacks, and sending a couple bolts his way, while simultaneously attacking the others. The field was a mix of bullets, sharp scraps of metal, and bolts of electricity.
At the end, Dazai sneaked up behind Ito, nullifying his ability, and knocking him out.
To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.
He had heard of an ability that controlled lightning, but this was his first time witnessing it in action.
'Heaven's Fury' was the name of your dangerous ability.
He thought it suited you very well..
You are calm and composed, but when angered, you can unleash madness upon your enemies.
You were always so elegant, and seeing you like this, using your powers and fighting atleast 20 people at once, he couldn't help but admire your majestic beauty.
Your ability gives me 'They tell me I'm a God, I'm lost in the façade, Six feet off the ground' vibes.
Dazai agrees with my opinion.
You look like a deity.
He liked the idea of protecting you, yes, but he found it so hot that you could protect yourself.
Hell, he now knows that you can not only protect yourself, but also take out an entire city on your own.
He would be much at peace now, knowing that he doesn’t quite have to worry so much about any past enemy of his taking revenge. You were stronger than almost all his enemies.
Will praise you, 24/7. He wouldn’t stop talking about it.
He wonders why you didn’t tell him, and you merely shrugged saying that he never asked.
He would brag about you to all his friends(ada members)
He would never tell anyone other than the ada members, though, as he doesn’t want anybody to do some research and find out a way to defeat you.
He prefers it to be an element of surprise and catch the enemies off-guard.
Loves watching the shocked and scared faces of those that decide to wrong you, leading to you using your formidable ability on them.
If you aren’t a part of the ada, he would definitely think that you’d be a great addition to the organization.
He would never ask you join, though. He wants you to be as safe as possible. It doesn’t matter whether or not you have a strong ability, he just wants you out of harm’s way.
Besides, using your ability can take a toll on your health too.
He just wants to see you happy and safe.
If you decide to join the ada, he will try to talk you out of it.
If you’re absolutely sure of your decision, he wouldn’t stop you.
Instead, he will accompany you on all your missions, and will ask Atsushi to come along too.
He is aware that you are extremely strong and don’t need anyone, but he will constantly worry about you, which is why he accompanies you.
Don’t get him wrong, he really loves you and trusts you, but he is just so worried.
So, don’t oppose him when he joins you, please. Poor baby is just really concerned for your health.
Will call up Chuuya and brag about you to him.
“My Belladonna is much stronger than you, chibi-kun ;p”
If you’re taller than Chuuya, Dazai will tease the hell out of poor hat man.
He'll be like,"LOL shorty XD. My s/o is both taller and stronger than you!!"
If you're not taller, it will still be hell for poor wine boy.
"I can't believe that you're weaker than my s/o! They're so much better than you, LOL"
"Shut up, bastard!"
"Pathetic chuuya.. You literally have a God inside you, and you're still weaker! LMAO"
I feel bad for chu chu :(
But, oh well, that's just them, ig :)
192 notes
·
View notes
Alone at Midnight, Inside My Mind
@badthingshappenbingo
Ao3 Link
Bingo Card
using the prompt in a metaphorical sense, as opposed to the medical aid sense
Prompt: Crutches
Fandom: Yakuza/Ryu Ga Gotoku
Warnings: a lot of alcohol related issues, including addiction and withdrawal, some suicidal thoughts and body image issues, hurt/no comfort. set pre-Yakuza 2.
Wordcount: 5511
2pm. He could tell it was because his downstairs neighbour was home, attending to the array of plant pots she kept littered outside her door, and playing music on the radio that bled through the crack of the open window.
Daigo squinted in the afternoon light that managed to make its way through the blinds, groaning loudly.
“Fucking hell…”
Suppose now was as good a time as any to start the day. Especially when he felt his stomach rumble.
It took some effort to get to his feet, but soon he was dragging himself into the kitchen, yawning loudly. He needed something quick and tasty, now.
The fridge had nothing but convenience store sushi and days old leftover curry. The cupboards were also pretty bare, half a bag of rice and a ramen cup.
Daigo sighed heavily, setting his kettle to boil before grabbing the sushi. He stuffed a piece into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste of stale rice but ate another without any complaint.
Head to the store. Get some more food, he thought, holding the ramen cup in place as he lifted up the kettle.
The water splashed on the counter a little, narrowly missing burning his fingers, making him forcefully slam the kettle back down once the cup was filled.
Daigo gripped the sides of the counter, closing his eyes as he felt a pulse of nausea rush through his body. If he forced the tension against the surface hard enough, he could stop his hands shaking for just a moment.
Eat noodles. Have a shower. Go to the store.
Opening his eyes again, he ate another piece of sushi, absolutely no taste on his tongue as he chewed it into mush, before taking his ramen into the living room.
He slumped down on the couch, turning the TV on and forced the food down him. He still felt nauseous, but he knew he wouldn’t actually vomit. He already had last night. Doubled over in a bush outside the train station and puked his guts out, despite not having much solids in him. Even now his throat felt sore from it. Classy.
He wasn’t even hungry, really. He was eating out of obligation, feeling his stomach gurgle happily at finally being filled with some kind of food.
As he ate, he noticed his cell phone on the table in front of him, discarded amongst the empty bottles and candy wrappers. It was flashing.
Daigo frowned, reaching over and flipping it open.
Three new answer machine messages.
Who the hell had tried calling him?
Message one - 9:25am
“Daigo, it’s your mother. Pick up.”
Message two - 9:43am
“Me again. Please answer your phone.”
Message three - 10:08am
“Daigo...it’s Mom-“
Daigo groaned, snapping his phone shut to end the messages. Nope! He was not dealing with this today.
He discarded the empty ramen cup and chopsticks with the rest of the trash on the table, storming towards the bathroom.
Shower on, clothes off. He used the toilet as the water heated up, catching the reflection of his upper half in the mirror as he finished.
“Hrmph.”
He ran a hand down his front, resting it on the middle of his stomach and huffed again.
His weight had been up and down the last ten years, though it had obviously settled during his stint in prison, with its shit food and no alcohol. Now that he was out, with all the freedom to indulge in every last inch of hedonism he could find though, he had developed a bit of a gut. Just a bump, but it was…noticeable, it was there. It stuck out.
No surprise really. How much did he drink last night again?
Enough I puked in a bush.
Daigo shifted on his feet, standing up a bit straighter and sucking his stomach in. It didn’t make much difference. He suddenly wondered how visible it was under his t-shirt, glad he usually wore a thick coat to hide himself in.
“Great,” he growled, stepping into the shower. Another thing to feel insecure about.
He stood there, forehead pressed against the wall as he let the water run down the Fudo Myoo on his back.
His hand started shaking again.
“Give me a break,” he said, clasping it to his chest, “A few hours, a day.”
He dried himself off, going back to his bedroom for a clean shirt and pair of jeans – both black, of course.
He also grabbed a heavy hoodie to wear to the store, a way to feel a little more comfortable in himself in a public place.
Wallet, keys, phone. Go to store. Buy supplies.
Daigo pulled his hood up as he jogged down the stairs, immediately blocked from leaving by the downstairs neighbour still gardening.
“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it Dojima-san?” Ito cried, beaming at him. She was older, always so chipper. How did she manage?
As much as he wanted to ignore her, Daigo had been raised with far too proper manners. He still remained casual, grunting a little and rubbing the back of his head.
“Yeah, suppose.”
“You came back late again last night,” she added, hands lifting a plant to move to another pot, “Ouma-san went off about it before going to work this morning.”
“Oh, did he now?”
Ouma was the guy around his age in the apartment next door. Always miserable, always bringing a new girl home every weekend that Daigo had to endure hearing fake horribly through his thin bedroom walls.
“I’ll try to be a bit quieter next time, Ito-san,” he mumbled. For her sake, not for that asshole Ouma.
“Or maybe you should stay in once in a while, hm?”
Daigo scowled, jerking his head and storming off toward the store. With any luck the old bag would have gone inside by the time he was back.
As he made his way down the street, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He went to answer but paused, clenching his fingers tight into his palm. Nope. He knew who it was, and what she wanted, and he didn’t care.
His supply run was basic. More noodles, packs of chips and cookies, some onigiri and bentos that could last a few days.
Whilst picking up a few bottles of Staminan and Tauriner, he stared blankly at the alcohol.
His hands still shook. There was such a quick fix to settle that.
He grabbed a six pack of beer and a bottle of scotch and vodka, unable to help a crooked little grin.
The cashier looked at him a little oddly as he set his basket down on the counter. And yeah, he’d admit he looked strange. Sweating and shaky from withdrawal, under his eyes dark and his brow pulled into a near permanent scowl, face otherwise obscured by the shadow of the hood.
“Get me some cigarettes too, huh?” he mumbled, taking out his wallet and avoiding eye contact.
He was a mess.
He stared at the glass case of baked goods, unable to resist the pull from his sweet tooth, and asked for two donuts as well.
He arrived back home rather pleased with his haul. He had enough in him to pack away most of it, before he stared down the booze he bought.
He could...not do this, actually. He could not drink. It was easy, in theory.
He wiped his damp brow, licked his dry lips. His head hurt, despite the slight gloom of the kitchen.
They could sit there as an ultimate temptation. He could ignore them. He could do all manner of things.
But he wanted to drink, that was the issue. That was the whole point. Drinking was the only thing he had that stayed consistent.
He grabbed the scotch and slugged back a long mouthful, feeling everything just melt away. He let out a relieved gasp, the taste strong on his tongue and warming his throat. Felt like a part of him was back. His mind became a little clearer, his mood a little more elevated. He took a shorter swig for luck, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Much better…”
He spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the sofa, playing video games. There wasn’t much else for him to do during the day.
Evening was his time.
When seven rolled around, Daigo got ready. His jeans and t-shirt were fine already, so all he had to do was put on his usual cross necklace to complete the outfit. He spent a while staring down himself in the mirror as he applied a shaky dash of eyeliner around his lid.
Once upon a time he shied away from doing this publicly, but since leaving jail he stopped caring. Wore eyeliner and straightened his hair. Painted his nails black and picked at the polish when he was anxious. Who gave a shit? Anyone dumb enough to say anything soon regretted it.
Keys, wallet, phone. Same routine. He chose his white puffer jacket to wear instead of his hoodie, enjoying the barrier it gave him from the rest of the world.
One quick metro ride later, he was in Kamurocho, just as the town was coming alive in a burst of neon. Daigo lost himself in the crowds, thinking of which bar to hit up first.
He paused for a moment down Tenkaichi Street, staring at the sign for Serena. Place was closed, and had been for a little under a year now.
He knew what happened last year, of course. Heard about Rina through another barkeep. Not that he’d known her well, or spent much time at Serena, but something in his chest ached hearing she was gone in such circumstances.
He soon forgot about it with another glass.
With a weary huff, he decided the Champion District on the other side of town was the best place to start. The bar he chose was quiet, no other customers, and a barman who knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Perfect.
Instead of conversation, Daigo focused on the soft jazz music playing as he nursed his whiskey. He was into heavier tunes, but he needed a bit more of a buzz before going to his favourite rock bar.
He tapped his nails against the glass, tilting his head. Good idea, actually. They did cheap shots and a big array of imports.
He slammed some cash down on the counter before stumbling into the street, glad to feel the slight evening chill on his cheeks.
Down to Pink Street, and into the rock bar he enjoyed. Already feeling at home with the heavy guitar music blasting over the speakers, most of the other patrons dressed in a similar style to him. He’d missed out on a lot of stuff whilst locked away, the slight sways in fashion that happened in such a short amount of time, but he liked knowing he was still on trend within his scene, mostly.
He sat at the counter, giving a half-grin to the girl working there, and ordered himself five shots of vodka.
His earlier drinks had been a warmup, these were the first leg of the race. The second came in the form of a large scotch, some new brand they’d started selling.
Honestly, the start to a perfect night for him, until he heard a small gasp from behind him.
“Hey! Aniki!”
Daigo’s heart sank at the voice, glancing over his shoulder. Five of the guys he usually hung around with were there – or more accurately, they hung around him.
He rolled his eyes and groaned, turning in his seat and glaring them down. He should never had shown them this place.
“What do you want?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.
“We didn’t know you were out today!” Arita cried, leaning up next to him, with that sycophantic look he always had in his eyes. As if Daigo wasn’t out every night.
“Why don’t you join us aniki?” Kubo asked, which actually translated to wanna pay for all our drinks because we’re cheap scrounging bastards?
Daigo groaned again, knocking back his glass and waving the bartender over again.
“If you quit calling me aniki.”
They didn’t, of course. They gleefully accepted the drinks he bought them with more coos of thank you Dojima-aniki. Daigo rubbed the bridge of his nose and ordered himself two double scotches, slugging them back like they were water.
“I was thinkin’ we could go to Dazzle after this,” Arita said, having not left Daigo’s side. He always babbled and talked too much, like he felt he had to fill every silence with his own voice save people be left alone with their own thoughts.
“Why there?” Daigo asked, thinking of all the things he’d rather do more than go to a hostess club, including and not limited to slamming his face into a lit stovetop and drowning in a hot tub.
“I just think the girls there are really underrated, y’know? I like that they have some slightly older gals, I love a mature lady. How about you?”
Daigo shoved a shard of ice from his glass into his mouth and let it melt on his tongue. “Come on then.”
He was paying for two hours and that was that. At least he could get a bottle for himself and work through that, sitting at the edge whilst the others enjoyed the girls’ company.
Dazzle might have specialised in more mature women, but the decor was a nightmare like every other hostess club. Why’d they always insist on so many sparkles, it gave him a headache.
“Um...are you enjoying yourself?”
Daigo lowered his gaze to look at the girl. ‘Mature’ really meant ‘late twenties’, and she was running on the younger side of that.
“What do you think?” he said coldly, swirling his drink in its glass.
She seemed a little dazed at this, glancing back at her fellow hostesses, but kept going.
“M-my name is Nashi. Yours?”
“Daigo Dojima.”
He clicked his tongue, emptied his glass and went to refill it, his shoulders slouching slightly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so short, you’re only doing your job.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve had far worse responses.”
Daigo just gritted his teeth. Another reason he hated hostess clubs was he knew how other men treated these girls, saw it himself the times his father brought him along as a teen.
The least he could do was give this lady a nice conversation.
“Well, I’ll try to be a bit better than them,” he said, gesturing with his head towards the others, so loud and obnoxious.
Nashi smiled a little. “They’re not so bad. Your friends are just a bit...out there.”
He scoffed. “They’re not my friends. I don’t really...do friendship anymore.”
“Oh? How come?”
Shit. Of course, when you say something like that, people have questions. Daigo licked his lips in thought, considering how he should phrase this.
“You...don’t recognise my name, do you?”
Nashi blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, you do have a bit of notoriety around town, Dojima-san. I know girls in other clubs, and they always talk about you.”
Daigo did a slight double take at this. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah. You’re a rather…” She gestured at his coat and skinny jeans. “A striking figure, you know. A lot of girls like the edgy emo bad boy look. It’s popular right now.”
“Hm, figures.” A lot of men are also fans…
Daigo sat up a little straighter, gazing Nashi down. “Do you?”
“H-huh?”
“Find me attractive?”
It was a joke, said with a dry smirk, but she flustered, clearly uneasy. Daigo grimaced, sliding up a little closer and putting a hand to her knee.
“Hey, hey. I’m kidding.” He made his smirk a soft smile, broke down the facade for just a moment to put her at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”
Nashi’s eyes went wide, but nodded, brushing down the edges of her dress.
“A-anyway, I...I’ve heard you...were involved with the Tojo Clan. Is that why you don’t ‘do’ friends?”
“Mm. Essentially.”
Daigo gave up on the glass, swigging back from the bottle which got him a funny look from one of the other patrons across the way.
“My only friend murdered my father,” he said, so matter of fact. He hesitated a moment, letting out a short huff. “Well. He went to jail for the crime, at least. He was actually covering for someone else. Either way, I was left without his guidance for ten years, thinking he had betrayed me like that.”
He paused a second, swilling whiskey around his mouth, before continuing.
“I came back to town a few months ago and...he hasn’t bothered trying to find me. Which shows how little he cares.”
“Oh. That sounds...awful, Dojima-san.”
“It sure does, doesn’t it?”
Daigo shrugged, tilting the empty bottle back so he could savour just a few more drops as best he could. “That’s just how my life is now.”
He grumbled a little as he set the bottle down, belching into his cupped hand before draping himself back against the seat.
“Sometimes you gotta deal with the hand you're given,” he added, scratching lazily at his middle, “And unfortunately, I’ve had a poor deck from the start.”
He shut his eyes before letting out a laugh, forced and hollow. “Sorry. I’m not the best at keeping things light.”
How many hostesses had he paid to listen to him whine? Then he thought how they were probably all used to it, which made it even worse.
“Well, given your circumstances…”
Nashi glanced back at her co-workers, the barely hidden looks of disdain towards the rest of the crew and their boorish behaviour.
“I’d much rather talk to you though,” she said, reaching over to grab another one of the bottles along the table, gesturing toward his glass, “You’re nice.”
Daigo swallowed, nodding in approval as she filled it to the brim. His head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the cravings.
“If you say so.”
The glass was empty in a flash, and filled just as quick.
“You’re good at this,” he purred.
The bottle was empty by the time the waiter came by. Daigo had just enough mental capacity to dig through his pockets and pay, giving Nashi a shaky smile and a pat on the knee.
“Thank you for tonight. You’re great.”
His friends, on the other hand, all started to whine as the waiter began to urge them into finishing their drinks.
“Aw, c’mon aniki, let’s hang around a bit longer!”
“If you want that, pay yourself, ya cheap fucks.”
Daigo stood up, a bit too quickly as he felt the room spin. He stumbled to the side slightly, wincing as he contained a belch that very much tasted of vomit. Nope! No puking tonight. Keep it all inside.
“I’m outta here,” he mumbled, resting a hand on any available solid surface to keep himself steady as he left.
He blanked out the cries of the others as he did. He’d wasted enough time with them tonight, and he was craving something else.
“Burger,” he mumbled, squinting as he glanced up and down the street, “Pffft...that way.”
This was always the worst part of the night. Trying to sober up enough so he could keep going, or at the very least get home in one piece. Stumbling through the streets and trying not to crack his skull open.
It wasn’t just food he craved though. He felt...itchy. That was the only way to really explain it. The desire to go wild, start a scuffle. Really earn that reputation he supposedly had.
To hell with staying in one piece.
But first, Smile Burger.
The fact that the poor worker even understood what he said through his slurred words was impressive and soon he was curled up against the window, feet pulled up on the chair beside him as he made his way through a burger that tasted like the finest wagyu steak right now.
All the while, he kept his eye out.
Yeah, it felt shitty to target people for a fight like this, but he made sure it was a fair fight. Usually a few guys, who looked like they could take a hit as well as throw one, maybe even have a chance if they weren’t facing someone running on adrenaline and too much booze.
He cocked his head as he focused on a table nearby. Four men, mid-twenties, definitely young yakuza from some family. He couldn’t see any lapel pin from where he was sat, but they were perfect.
Childishly, he picked up one of his fries and threw it in their direction. It hit the back of one guy’s head, and he looked around puzzled. Daigo just threw another, chuckling as it hit him again. A bit too obvious, as he was spotted this time.
“What the hell’s wrong with you dude?” one of the four cried.
“I dunno,” Daigo said, stuffing a bunch of fries in his mouth before flinging another their way, “Target practise.”
This one hit a guy in a striking red sports jacket right between the eyes, and Daigo could barely contain the full-on cackle he let out at the expression he pulled. It was almost too easy.
He grinned when one came over and jabbed him in the chest.
“Outside. Now.”
“My pleasure.”
He followed them into a nearby side street, hands in his pockets and head held high. He liked an audience sometimes, but a private fight was fine enough.
The biggest one of them threw the first punch. He was expecting it, crossing his arms over in front of his face to block it, before kicking out at the guy’s ankles.
The whole fight was messy. The little gang clearly had never been in a proper fight, had no form. They kept punching poorly, wincing with any that managed to hit as they stung their knuckles.
Not that Daigo was any better. He was still far too drunk, but that was half the fun. Stumbling about and getting in a rough hit that frightened these kids who’d never experienced this before. He just wanted the thrill, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Anything to feel something.
Daigo landed a punch on that guy in the sports jacket, right in the middle of his face. It sent him flat on his ass, skidding down the street slightly.
“Come on!” he groaned, “Grab him, idiots! We outnumber him!”
A moment of pause. Daigo tried to catch his breath, but ol’ sports jacket was right. He was outnumbered.
Two of them grabbed his coat and pushed him back against the wall, holding him there. The third punched at his gut, over and over. Daigo gritted his teeth, tensed his stomach for every punch.
He knew he could get out of this, easily. The guys holding him were hardly doing much, weren’t even gripping his actual arms, just the sleeves of his jacket. It wouldn’t take much to duck and slip down, then send them crying home to their mommies.
“Come on!” he hissed, baring his teeth.
But he wanted them to hit him.
“That all you got?”
He wanted them to hurt him.
Sports jacket guy had gotten back on his feet now, face already starting to bruise. His fist met the middle of Daigo’s face hard, harder than they’d been hitting before. It stung, a lot, which is exactly what he wanted.
Not that it solved anything.
It never did.
“Oi!”
They all froze, turning toward the entrance of the street. Daigo, semi-dazed, managed to look too, and felt his stomach drop.
Kashiwagi's expression, initially a scowl, changed the moment he saw him, shaking his head and blinking a little.
“Daigo?”
He sighed heavily, storming over and waving his hand at the little gang. “Shoo. Don’t let me catch you boys doing shit like this again, you hear?”
“Y-yes Patriarch Kashiwagi.”
They scurried off further down the street, leaving Daigo to stand up straighter, rubbing his nose. He groaned a little as he saw the streaks of rusty red on the back of his hand, sniffling heavily. “Great.”
“Daigo…”
Kashiwagi sighed again, rubbing at his temple. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just...I’m just out.” Daigo sniffed again, scrunching his nose. “Just finished dinner.”
“You know what I mean…”
Kashiwagi looked around, then grabbed Daigo by the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s talk in the office.”
Daigo went to argue, but it only took one stern glare, the kind the older man had given him his whole life, for him to clench his jaw and follow.
Kashiwagi led the way toward the Millennium Tower, hand on Daigo’s shoulder the whole way. It felt so patronising, like that time he accidentally broke a window at the Dojima Family offices when he was ten, and Kashiwagi had done the exact same gesture, marching him to his mother.
“Nice upgrade,” he still said, gazing out the wide window of Kashiwagi’s office once they arrived, “From that little place on Tenkaichi.”
“Well, we make do. I’m second in command now.” Kashiwagi set down the plastic convenience store bag he’d been carrying on his desk, letting out a small, bemused exhale of air. “It’s not all bad. Now come on. Why were you fighting?”
Daigo clicked his tongue and shrugged, staring at the blinking lights below them.
“Daigo…”
“I just was, okay?”
He gave a dismissive shrug, walking across the floor toward a cabinet, throwing the doors open. Kashiwagi watched him with tired eyes, slumping down in his chair. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”
“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”
“Your breath reeks of it, kid. Your whole body does.” He took out a bento and can of coffee from the plastic bag, raising a brow. “And I know what you’re like, especially lately. How’s being a free man by the way? Haven’t seen you since you were released.”
“It sucks ass.”
Daigo slammed the cabinet door shut, opening another and grinning as he saw half a bottle of whiskey there, as well as some crystal glasses. He heard Kashiwagi tut loudly as he slammed both down on top of the cabinet.
“What did you expect?” he scoffed, pouring a very large measure, “Mom told me the news the moment I got out. What Nishikiyama did. That it wasn’t Kiryu. He hasn’t even come to see me, to apologise for it.”
He knocked the glass back, the sensation warm and familiar down his throat. “Hardly feel free. Just not in jail anymore.”
“What happened to the boy I knew?” Kashiwagi asked, walking over and placing a hand on Daigo’s shoulder once more. This time it was gentle, kind, attempting to be comforting. Not Kashiwagi-san, one of his father’s men, but Uncle Osamu, his mother’s best friend.
Daigo scrunched his nose up, taking another slug of whiskey. “You say that like I’ve ever been cheery.”
“Well, okay, you’ve always been a serious young man, but…”
He just shook his head, moving his hand away. He grabbed the whiskey bottle in the process, making Daigo let out a pathetic little whine.
“I’m not going to enable you any more than I have,” he said firmly, before adding, “I mean it though. You don’t need to throw your life away like this.”
Daigo didn’t reply, because he didn’t like the real answer. There wasn’t much of a life to throw away. He was doing everyone a favour with this.
“You bring me up here just to lecture me old man?” he growled, narrowing his eyes.
Still looking for someone to fight. Kashiwagi would wipe the floor with him, he knew that, but he didn’t care. He also knew he wouldn’t get that kind of satisfaction.
Didn’t mean Kashiwagi wasn’t frustrated with his attitude. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists and let out a deep exhale from his nose. “I saw your mother today. She’s been trying to call you all morning.”
“I know.” The empty glass was set down heavily, with a grunt. Daigo dug around for his phone, holding it out so Kashiwagi could see the countless missed calls and texts from her on the home screen. “I know what today is.”
“...and is that why you’re-”
“You know I’m like this anyway.” He stared at the texts, all similar in tone - Daigo, please call me. Daigo, it’s important. Are you okay? He got them most days from his mother. She was trying so hard. He didn’t want her to. He would rather she forget about him. She deserved that much.
Kashiwagi wasn’t looking at him, staring up at the ceiling as he thought of what to say next.
“I understand that...none of us could have predicted the extent of what your father was like.”
Daigo did a double take, noticing Kashiwagi immediately cringe. At least he knew what he said was stupid.
“Sorry, that was-”
“Yeah. It was.” Daigo looked up, head cocked to his shoulder. “Anyone could have guessed, really. We just pretended otherwise, because somehow he seemed to be the only thing keeping the Tojo Clan from completely falling apart.”
He was up in Kashiwagi’s face now, feeling his chest clench tight. He was working himself up over nothing, over that bastard. He hated it, but thinking of what his father did to get himself killed, the kind of man he was, it made his skin crawl.
“He deserves to spend every birthday after what he did having the most miserable time in hell,” he said with a hiss, noticing his voice wobbling, “I know it. You know it. But Mom refuses to let go-”
The slap felt cathartic, for both of them. Daigo shut his eyes and nodded as his cheek stung. He deserved that. He was trying to provoke that kind of reaction and got exactly that.
“I take back what I said. That boy you were is still there. An insolent brat,” Kashiwagi said, walking back to his desk, “Daigo, one day, you’re going to have to grow up. You can’t keep doing this until you die.”
He threw a semi-sympathetic look over his shoulder, but Daigo mostly felt it was piteous. That’s what he was. A pitiful, useless mess.
“Go home, Daigo. Call your mother. And for everyone’s sake, don’t have anything else to drink tonight.”
Daigo sucked in through his teeth and nodded again as he walked toward the door.
“...good night, Kashiwagi-san.”
No response. Yup. I deserve this.
He made his way home in a daze, everything working in automatic. Kashiwagi’s words kept echoing in his head, over and over.
You can’t keep doing this until you die.
Because that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it? Die. Suicide by hedonism. He was born already holding the worst hand life could deal, and he was never going to get anything better. After his father was killed, the one tiny scrap of potential good he could have in his life was gone, even if that prospect was a life of crime.
So why not? Why should he grow up when there was nothing to grow up for?
The moment he was inside his apartment, he slid down the door, staring blankly ahead. He’d needed that talking to, he needed a few really, from people who were currently pretending like he didn’t exist. That’s what he really needed. For Kiryu to talk to him, apologise for ruining his life, try and talk some sense into him. He always knew what to do.
But it was like he didn’t exist. Kiryu didn’t care. Kashiwagi tried to care, but knew he was a lost cause. Who did care?
Daigo opened up his phone again, staring at the missed calls and sighed. That’s who cared. Mom.
He should talk to her. He knew he should. He was an awful son who loved his mother very much, which is why he knew she deserved better. She was trying despite knowing she’d made mistakes, but he just couldn’t let that go.
He hovered on her number, ready to press the button to call...but instead he tossed his phone to land on the couch, walked to the kitchen and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle still on the counter.
He licked his lips, swallowed heavily...but let go, pushing it away.
“You win this time old man,” he grumbled, picking up an energy drink and the donuts he’d bought earlier in the day instead. Kashiwagi could never be allowed to know that though.
He knew this self-control wouldn’t last long. Come morning, he’d be shaking again, a hangover banging in his skull, and he’d be dragging himself towards that bottle like it was the source of life.
The same thing every day.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
He couldn’t have it any other way.
10 notes
·
View notes