Work Text:
A vibration echoed its slight mechanical whir from Dazai’s pocket. He brought up his cell phone, flipping its neck open with a careless swipe. The text notification tells him that Odasaku had sent him some sort of photo; he couldn’t see it unless he went directly into his messages. Dazai straightens from his casual lean across the alleyway wall. It was about time to wrap things up here.
The mid-afternoon sun shined harshly down upon the city’s passerby. He and his men were too far back in the narrow alleyway to be easily spotted, obscured by the shadow of the tall buildings. The stench of the sewer below and the dumpster nearby was unpleasant, drifting to all those with the misfortune of being there.
The rough dregs of the manholes and shoddy city cement gnawed its teeth at an equally misfortunate man’s clothes as he was bodily dragged across the pavement. The sound of the muffled whimpers from the gagged man drew no reaction from every person present. It was business as usual. In Dazai’s eyes, it was hardly worth any amount of his attention.
Dazai ignores the squirming captive on the ground. His cold dark eyes pierced his mens’ hearts. He was on their side, yet they could not help but feel the slither of fear trickling in their minds. They were well aware of what he was capable of. No one wanted to be the Demon Prodigy’s enemy.
“Drag him back to base to be interrogated. If he doesn’t sing by a day or two, then I’ll handle him myself.”
The command was given in a slow drawl, but despite the bored cadence of his voice, his men quickly hurried to comply. The faster that they got out of his sight, the less likely they would be targeted and picked at in the future for displeasing him. Dazai was a vengeful person, but his unpredictability was the worst part of him. No one could make sense of his actions. It was safer to be far from his empty gaze.
Dazai watches them bodily haul the captive away; the victim’s bodily protests were nothing but a tip of cotton prodding into an unmoving block. Soon, they were black specks in the distance, like a line of black ants following faithfully one after the other—focused at the task at hand.
Meanwhile, the phone in his hand continued to buzz in a stream of notifications. It was unusual for Odasaku to text him so much at once. This break in the monotony was exactly what he needed.
Dazai breathes out a lengthy sigh at the thought of his previous task for the day. It was boring. It was predictable. After the captive sputters out all the information on his allies’ warehouses, they could easily sabotage the main source of their strength. Who knew that the Mafia could end up giving such an endless amount of repetitive work?
But at least now there was something to look forward to, even if it was only a brief respite from the normal dregs of routine. Dazai ignores the familiar ache of emptiness that haunts him with practiced ease. It was a bit easier today. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could have caused Odasaku to send him a barrage of messages on a normal weekday like today.
He considers the possibility that Odasaku ran into trouble. It was highly unlikely since Odasaku’s assignment for the day was lightweight. In fact, he was likely to finish early today with his errands.
After Odasaku joined the mafia, Dazai had ordered the person in charge of Odasaku’s weekly work to keep him updated as well—once he had the power to. It was his own convenience to know when Oda would be available for a call or when he needed help…Not that Odasaku asked for help at all.
He could always handle himself; Odasaku was undeniably one of the most skilled men in the mafia. But the strength of one person did not necessarily guarantee victory. Dazai knew that. If Oda needed his help, he would come running. It was a matter of planning for every outcome possible. To not be caught off guard…or unprepared. It was the most logical reason.
Did Odasaku see something that he wanted Dazai to see immediately? Was it work-related? Was it casual? Something related to their last call over the phone together? But Odasaku generally preferred to call when he had something he wanted to say... The guessing game lights a fire in Dazai’s mind. He entertains himself with the most ludicrous of possibilities and the most likely ones, before selecting one as his primary prediction. Strangely, he felt almost aflutter over the matter.
Dazai hopes it goes against his expectations. He hopes it matches them. He doesn’t know what he wants.
Dazai cranes his neck down, hunching slightly from his position in the alleyway, finger hovering over his phone. His eyes adjust with the screen’s low light. He inspects his message box, scrolling past his other messages from irrelevant people that could be dealt with later, to the first message that Odasaku sent him.
To his amusement, it was the blurriest possible photo that he had ever seen—a tan smudge of an arm that indicated Odasaku’s iconic jacket and a blurred face of a child—he must have been wrestling with his orphans. It was another talent of his; to appear in a photo as if there was some sort of filter masking his presence from the common public.
Dazai scrolled to the next few texts. It seemed like there are a lot of photos from the wrestling encounter. The quick succession of clicks was like a mini animation of ensuing tackles and dives of body parts. He could almost hear the childish glee and laughter in the air.
He wonders if Odasaku let them win this time. The stream of photos told a story of a fight, ending with many small children running away, their little stomping feet pounding hard across the wooden floor. The most recent photo was one of triumphant victory, a selfie of all the children with Odasaku lunging across the doorway in the background.
He giggled to himself at the thought of Odasaku being overpowered by a gang of small children. There was something to the mundanity that he didn’t dislike.
Buzz.
A new text.
This time, it seemed like a photo image of a different time, unassociated with the fight. Dazai sees a crown of wildflowers weaved sloppily into a circular wreath, perched onto Odasaku’s head. The mixture of bright yellow petals and the white tufts of baby’s breaths made for a delightful combination with Oda’s red hair.
The work was rather amateur; several edges were not quite tucked neatly into the edges. He sees Oda’s patient face as he waits for the crown to be placed on his head by Sakura. He wasn’t visibly smiling, but he was undeniably relaxed more than usual. Naturally, Dazai saves this picture immediately. In almost an after-thought, he sets it as his background picture in the same motion.
Odasaku: Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you during work hours. The kids got a bit rowdier than normal today. I’ll tell them not to text you next time.
It’s fine! Nothing is going on anyway. It seems like you can lose a fight after all, huh. I’ll make sure to be on the children’s side the next time so I can win! =v=
Also! I’m making this my background picture!! I clearly need to treat that little girl to an ice cream for giving me the photo of the year!
Odasaku: You want a picture of my arm as your background picture?
Dazai could practically hear his deadpan voice through the text.
No! The flower crown one <3. You look quite dashing in that! I think whoever took that shot of you has potential for photography if they managed to capture your likeness without struggling.
Odasaku: It was Kosuke. We were out at the park earlier today. Are you really going to use that as your background picture?
What do you think? ^^
Odasaku: Do as you like.
Dazai presses his lips together to suppress his amusement. Odasaku was likely feeling a little abashed, but didn’t want to admit it.
Let me come next time! I’ll make a crown for you too. The ones on your head in that picture, did you know they mean sincerity, happiness, and purity?
Odasaku: You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?
Partially!
Odasaku: If you’re serious about spending time with us in the park, then I’ll let you know the next time we go.
I’m always serious, Odasaku!! I’d dash away from the evils of working any day to goof off with you!
Odasaku: In that case, I might get shot for distracting the executive. Please get your work done before you come.
Dazai laughs out loud.
NOOOOOOOOOO. You can’t let Ango infect you with his workaholic tendencies! It’s a one-way track to developing stomach ulcers and a constant urge to comply to your bosses.
Odasaku: That’s tough. Maybe we should send some stomach medicine to Ango before he works himself to death. The obedience is a lost cause though.
This sent Dazai into another peal of laughter. It was truly a shame that Odasaku’s sense of humor was lost to so many people. In another life, he would have made for an excellent comedian.
Another buzz came to his phone.
Odasaku: The next time you come; I’ll make you a flower crown. It would suit you more than me.
Are you calling me handsome, Odasaku? I think you’re putting yourself down too much, though. I’m really serious about setting it as my background, you know?
Dazai thinks about sending more compliments, but somehow, an inexplicable wave of embarrassment causes him to hold back. Instead, he hastily sends another message.
I’m really looking forward to going, so there are no takebacks!!
Odasaku: Okay. Come with me next time.
Dazai hopes to himself that there would be enough time for them for there to be a next time. There was no guarantee, but at the very least, there was something else for him to look forward to. Maybe he should skip out the rest of his work for the day. He felt like seeing Odasaku.