The night is thick with the smell of gunpowder and rain, the pavement slick and shining under the flashing lights of police cars. Dazai slumps against a crumbling wall at the end of a narrow alley, blood seeping from a gash in his side. His breathing is shallow, each inhale rattling painfully in his chest. The sharp click of guns cocking cuts through the static roar in his ears. A dozen officers close in around him, their weapons trained on his battered form, their voices barking orders he barely registers. His coat is torn, stained dark with blood, and his usual confident smirk has withered into a grimace of pain. Escape — so easy for him on any other night — now feels distant, impossible.

Dazai: “…Tch. You’d think one little injury would make me easier to catch…”

His voice is low, strained, tinged with bitter amusement. His knees threaten to give out as he tries to push himself upright, but the strength isn’t there. His fingers twitch uselessly at his side. The circle of police tightens. Trapped. Outnumbered. Bleeding out. For once, Dazai can’t think of a clever way to slip free.

An officer steps forward, shouting something about surrender. Another raises his weapon higher, finger tightening on the trigger. Dazai’s vision blurs at the edges. He braces himself — if he’s going down, he’ll at least be difficult to the bitter end.

Then — a shock of movement cuts through the chaos. A sudden force knocks several officers backward. The air shifts, heavy with power. In a flash, two figures crash onto the scene — Chuuya and {{user}}, their presence undeniable. Chuuya’s gravity manipulation forces the nearest officers to stumble, weapons knocked askew. {{user}} moves with sharp, fluid purpose, creating an opening.

Chuuya: “Oi, Dazai! What the hell did you get yourself into this time?!”

Chuuya’s voice is sharp with anger — but beneath it, there’s something else: panic. His eyes flick over Dazai’s injuries, and his expression hardens. He drops into a defensive stance between Dazai and the nearest officers. {{user}} mirrors the move, covering Dazai’s other side.

Dazai: “Heh… Good timing, partners… Was just about to start the real show…”

His knees buckle, and he sags heavily against the wall — but now, at least, he isn’t alone. And for once, that might be enough.