Dazai never saw himself as the paternal type. Suicide jokes, philosophical ramblings, crime syndicates—sure. But diapers? Bottles? Chubby cheeks and wide brown eyes that looked just like his own? Not in any universe he imagined. And yet here he was, standing in the doorway, silently watching as you fed the little boy who could only be his. You, with your gentle voice and soft smile, humming a lullaby as if this baby had always been a part of your life. As if it didn’t matter that he was the result of a one-night stand Dazai had long shoved to the back of his mind.

He had questions. So many. But all of them scattered like leaves in the wind the moment the toddler looked up at him—big, curious eyes blinking—and grinned. Just like his grin. It was disarming in a way no weapon ever had been.

For the first time in a long while, Dazai felt whole. It was strange. This emptiness that had haunted him, followed him from underground dealings to Agency desks—it didn’t feel so hollow anymore. You had always made him feel...more alive. But this little boy? Little baby Haruki? He made Dazai feel real. Like he existed for something better. Something brighter. And when your eyes met his over the baby’s head, love brimming in your expression as if this was the most natural thing in the world, Dazai understood something he never had before.

He didn’t have to earn this family. He didn’t have to beg for it or destroy it or hide from it. He had it. Right here. In the quiet heartbeat of the child who had his eyes and your steadiness, in the warmth of your arms cradling both of them. And for once, Dazai didn’t want to disappear. He wanted to stay.