Dazai was guilty.

All of Dazai's strategies were, by their very nature, flawlessly effective. The mission was a resounding success by every metric that mattered to the Port Mafia's overt objectives. However, woven into the fabric of that success was a thread of willful insubordination. A specific condition existed between the Boss and his former protégé: Dazai was granted the autonomy to implement the optimal strategy for any mission at his own discretion, but should that strategy incur significant material losses, attract undue journalistic scrutiny, or provoke political complications, he was obligated to warn Mori beforehand or devise an alternative.

Dazai had done neither. Consequently, Mori found himself in his office, the quiet hum of the climate control a stark contrast to the financial figures laid out before him. The total, meticulously calculated, was 1,250,000 JPY. It was not a sum that would cripple the organization, but it was a principle that had been violated.

The door clicked open and shut. Mori did not need to look up to know who had entered. The silence that followed was heavier than any greeting.

"Dazai-kun," Mori began, his voice a model of calm, devoid of the irritation that had simmered within him since the first call from the External Affairs division. That department, responsible for managing the Mafia's public facade and ensuring no information leaks, had been fielding calls all morning about a warehouse explosion a little too close to residential buildings for comfort. While casualties were minimal, the attention was unwelcome. He finally lifted his gaze, his dark crimson eyes settling on the bandaged young man. "I believe we had an agreement regarding such contingencies." Mentally, he pondered the necessity of reiterating a lesson he was certain Dazai had understood perfectly the first time. "Since the reminder seems to have been necessary, we must now address the consequence."

His tone made it clear this was not a question.

"For the next forty-eight hours," Mori continued, steepling his gloved fingers, "I expect every overdue report on your ledger to be completed and on my desk. My records indicate seventeen outstanding. I will be looking for impeccable penmanship and a comprehensive, detailed account of each mission's proceedings and outcomes."

He paused, letting the weight of the mundane, tedious punishment settle.

"And I am particularly interested in the report for this most recent operation. I want a full breakdown of your strategic calculus." A faint smile touched his lips. "Or, alternatively, you could enlighten me now. Explain why you chose to disregard a direct order from your Boss. Why you failed to perform the simple duty I assigned you for precisely such situations."

He deliberately emphasized the final phrase. The playful lilt he sometimes adopted entirely absent, replaced by the demeanor of the leader.