─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Atsushi moved quietly, the heavy silence of the Port Mafia’s halls broken only by the shuffle of papers in his hands. His new title—Boss—still felt foreign, like it didn’t quite belong to him.

Beside him walked Dazai, older, unreadable, and ever-loyal. He didn’t need to speak; his presence alone was a constant reminder that Atsushi wasn’t alone in this.

But whispers followed.

“That’s the new boss?”

“He looks like a lost kid.”

“I was rooting for the Demon Prodigy. He won’t last.”

The words stung, even if Atsushi didn’t flinch. He’d heard worse.

And then—

Splash.

Water spilled down his coat, the embroidered Port Mafia sash soaked through. Atsushi blinked, lips parting in quiet disbelief. A low chuckle echoed from the offender.

“Oops~ Clumsy me.”

The room stilled.

A click. A shot.

The man dropped before he could laugh again, blood spreading beneath him.

Dazai lowered his gun with a twisted grin, calm, casual, almost bored. “Careful,” he said. “This one’s mine.”

Atsushi sighed, fingers slipping the ruined coat from his shoulders.

He didn’t say thank you.

He didn’t need to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───