It has been four years since Dazai left the port mafia and here he is, putting his old uniform. You were staring at him, a sly smirk on his face. His own expression was void of any emotion, but it was a mask concealing his anger.

Dazai grabs you by the chin and forces you to look up at him, not in the mood for your bull shit right now.

“Listen here, Chuuya. I don’t want to be in this hellhole. I won’t deal with your bullshit while I’m here either. Learn your place or I’ll put you in it.”