#Takane No Hana: Koi No Yokan

[bsdtakanenohana]

Takane No Hana │ 高値 の 花

Summary: (n.) someone or something one desires but is far away or unattainable; lit. "flower on a high peak” If you love long, drawn out stories and other people’s BSD OCs you’ve come to the right place.

Rating: T (will probably change in later chapters)

Relationships: Osamu Dazai & original female character, Chuuya Nakahara & original female character

Other AO3 Tags: Developing Friendships, Platonic Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Slow Burn, the romance is a lot later on when I say slow burn I mean slow burn, you get to find out which relationships develop which way(s), Pre-Fifteen Light Novel

AN: originally posted to my AO3 thedragonandthewolf, I’m also posting it here to reach a different audience. My OC is based on my own original character’s I’ve created for original works I’ve since stopped writing. Please check the tag “takane no hana” on my account to see more information on her.

Chapter One

Au Wa Wakare No Hajimare │ 合う 和 別れ の 始まり

"To meet is the beginning of parting."

WC: ~ 2.1k

The day was grim and rainy. She didn’t have an umbrella, but unlike most people, it didn’t bother her. Drenched in water, extreme heat, extreme cold, her body reacted to them all and they would feel uncomfortable on her skin. But nothing brought her mood down.

She quickly walked down the sidewalk on her multi-errand trip. Today she was acting as the messenger boy for her gang, the Yokohama Association of Black Market Distributors. Their name was stupidly long and formal, but as a low-ranking member, there was nothing she could do about it. To herself, she referred to it as the acronym YYRGK.

Today’s job brought a change of scenery from her normal routine which was working in the small office of their main warehouse. She walked with an air of confidence through the bad parts of town. Nobody knew she was a girl, she cut her hair short and wore loose clothing. Although she was only twelve and quite small, she had a way of defending herself that would never fail in these situations. And she could not feel fear.

She knocked on the side door of a warehouse coming up from an alleyway. There was a sign on the door written in kanji. She had no idea what it said, she was completely illiterate in that writing system. After another knock the door opened.

“Oleander?” The gruff man asked. They had been expecting her.

She nodded, it was the boy’s name she had given herself. Then she stepped inside the dingy hallway.

The gruff man escorted her to the offices on the second floor. This was the operations center for a smuggling group YYRGK was planning on partnering with. The letter in her pleather briefcase contained the offer. The last couple of years had been hard for them and now they did not have the men to run their own supply lines, and defend their territory, and expanding business was almost out of the question. But this group here had a legitimate business front, unlike YYRGK. Partnering with them would lead to expansion opportunities in the future. At least, that is what her boss, Masato, said.

Oleander handed the letter to this boss with a slight bow and then stood as tall as her small frame would allow. He read over the letter once and then said “you will hear back from me by the end of this week.” She was dismissed.

She went back out into the rain, turning her hood up to cover herself from the worsening downpour. When she was a child she liked to watch the rain from indoors. She didn’t truly like anything now, it was hard to really care and hold preferences without emotions, but she would still sometimes do things she used to enjoy, just to keep busy.

Her next stop was the last one. Oleander saved it for last because it was the riskiest. She was to deliver a letter to the Port Mafia. They were the most powerful criminal organization in Yokohama. At one point in time, they had been one of the most powerful in all of Japan. But that changed some years ago as the organization had undergone some internal difficulties.

YYRGK had been frequently subcontracted by the Port in past years. In fact, doing business with them had been the reason why they were able to become as notable as they had been. But that was before she had been forced to join. A few years ago the Port Mafia’s former boss had become overly cruel and tyrannical. He started conflict after conflict and YYRGK did everything they could to stay out of unnecessary fighting in an attempt to not shed as much of their blood. That much Oleander was able to remember for she had been forced in a little over two years ago, amid all the criminal wars in Yokohama. They were so short-staffed, that even a ten-year-old was considered a good recruit (provided that the ten-year-old had valuable skills– which she did).

The five black skyscrapers ringing the middle of the city grew larger as she approached. Ominous things, sleek and modern in design and incredibly expensive. The headquarters represented their organization well. Oleander pushed past people on the crowded sidewalk. Half a year ago the tyrannical boss had died and a newer, younger boss took his place. “More calculating” were the words used by Masato. He hadn’t been mafia prior to his role as the leader of the biggest criminal organization in town, so YYRGK had wanted to wait to see how he would turn out. While the Port Mafia was nothing like it had been in the past, the new boss hadn’t been killed off, the organization had stopped the unnecessary wars, and they hadn’t crumbled or split into many factions.

The guards outside the buildings weren’t meant to look like actual guards and they were only there to stop large threats. If she wasn’t supposed to be here, she would be found out in the main lobby and killed or captured there, out of sight from the rest of the world.

Oleander walked through the front doors with ease, but stopped and looked around once she was in the lobby. From the black marble tile floors to the ornate moldings, the expansive room was a pinnacle example of wealth. And even though she had given up her emotions, the grandeur of it all was enough to pull at her brainstrings and make her stop and look around.

Towards the back of the lobby, near the elevators and large hallway going off into countless rooms, was a large mahogany reception desk.

“Oleander from Yokohama’s Association of Black Market Distributors here to deliver a letter of great importance to Mr. Takahashi,” she spoke and flashed the badge all members of YYRGK had.

The receptionist seemed startled at her deadpan voice. Most people who heard it were. Nobody expects a robotic, monotone voice to come out of a twelve-year-old, especially when the child in question does not look unhappy. She tried to maintain a pleasant neutral expression at all times.

“Oh, yes here,” the receptionist replied and checked the badge in the system to verify its validity. She also had to give her fingerprints despite not wanting this organization to have records of her. Then the receptionist gave the instructions to the office. Oleander was not meeting with the boss, nor any of the five executives, nor even a sub-executive. It was some man whose duty was to filter out work that otherwise would go to a higher-up but wasn’t as important.

His office was on the thirty-third floor. Other than the one time she flew in an airplane, Oleander had never been this high up before. When the black marble elevators parted, the first thing she noticed was the large windows on the opposite wall. She immediately went to look out of them and observe the city from this high vantage point.

Yokohama spread out before her; a sprawling city as far as the eye could see, she was facing the opposite direction of the ocean although a part of it could be seen when she turned her head. There were other skyscrapers around, some about the same level as she. But the Port Mafia’s black towers stood higher than any building in the city. She looked up and wondered what the view was from the roof.

“I’d probably be close enough to the storm clouds to control the electricity in them.” She spoke in a low voice to herself.

“That would depend on how far of a range your special ability has. These clouds aren’t as low as they seem,” came an oddly bleak boy’s voice.

Oleander wasn’t surprised as surprise was an emotion. But there was a certain shockedness to what was going through her mind at that moment. She hadn’t seen anyone else in the hall as she exited the elevators. She hadn’t seen anything other than the view. She turned.

Near the same wall as the elevators rested a couple of beige chairs. On one of them sat a boy only a little older than she. He was wearing his Sunday best: an expensive-looking combination of a white button-down, black pants, a black tie, black dress shoes, and an oversized black coat.

A Mafia member. She thought. Although she hadn’t met anyone near her age in this line of work, there were plenty of gangs that accepted children and teens as their members. Or sometimes they only used random “street urchins” for easy one-off tasks. But the Port Mafia didn’t let just any kid join, they wouldn’t have grown so successful if that was the case. This boy must be a special ability user, just like her. But stranger than it was to meet someone else her age here was the fact that the boy’s right eye was covered by a white bandage that wrapped around his face, disappearing underneath his mop of dark brown hair. On the opposite cheek was another small bandage and more bandages peaked out from underneath his collar and cuffs.

“Hello,” she said politely. Manners were important in situations such as this.

“Who are you here for?” he asked. His voice was how Oleander imagined a dead person would speak if reanimated.

She gave the name.

The boy pointed to his left. “First door on the right.”

She approached his spot to see down the hallway. There was only one door.

“Do you work for him?” she asked. This might be a good chance at a business connection if YYRGK was going to be dealing with this Takahashi man for the time being.

The boy didn’t speak at first. He just kept looking at her with his one uncovered eye. His expression was mostly blank but his dark eye held a bit of contempt and envy in it. The girl stared back with an entirely emotionless face.

“No. I don’t work for anyone in the Port Mafia. I’m not a mafioso.”

“Oh," was all she said, not expecting that answer.

She was about to turn to walk to the office, but nothing about this boy was adding up. Why was he here in the Mafia’s headquarters if he wasn’t a member? Why did everything about him look so dead? Why was he wrapped in bandages like a mummy?

“Are you okay?” Oleander asked. She pointed to her right eye, suggesting that was the wound about which she was inquiring.

A look of shock passed in the boy’s eye and then went away. “Not in the slightest. But nothing is out of the ordinary for me if that’s what you meant.”

Even though she did not have emotions anymore, she knew that others being hurt or in trouble was not a good thing. “Will you be out here after I’m done with my meeting?”

The boy looked at her quizzically. “Maybe, if you’re not there long.”

She nodded and went on her way. The meeting wasn’t short, but quicker than she had expected. She had thought she would need to speak for YYRGK more and answer all sorts of questions. But everything was accepted. Not even thirty minutes later she was back out into the hallway with a new form that officialized YYRGK as a subcontractor with the Port Mafia. They were to start off using their warehouses, now abandoned after all the slow business, to store the Mafia’s contraband goods. There were a lot of other things in the form explaining details. She would have to read it to understand it all. The man had talked too fast for her to catch everything.

The beige chair was empty. Oleander glanced around as she approached the elevators. There was no one in sight. It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t been gone for half an hour. Wherever the strange boy had gone, she wished him well.

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor to a bustling lobby, unlike the way it had been when she came up. She walked slowly and deliberately having learned that people did not pay attention to you if you made yourself look as if you belonged. It was a technique she called "hiding in plain sight".

It wasn’t raining outside anymore. After walking a couple of blocks, Oleander pulled out her briefcase and read over the form to familiarize herself with it. She would have to explain it to the boss upon return. Fortunately, it was typed in hiragana with bits of katakana in it. She could read this well.

There was only one part of the form that mentioned something she didn’t remember being discussed at all in the meeting. It was tacked on at the end, like an afterthought or a piece of new information. The small clause had to do with making sure that in no way was YYRGK to be associated with any of the Port Mafia’s current enemy groups.

Of course, it’s a new addition; they probably just now refigured out who their enemies are after all those battles stopped. One group in particular stood out. “The Sheep”.

She had heard of them. The Sheep was an entire group consisting of children and teenagers. Almost like a vigilante organization, working outside the law, not with it, but wanting to help people. They tried to protect people against gangs, looting, and human trafficking. She had wanted to join them, if only temporarily. Surely there were special ability users in the group and she could train with them and learn to control her own?

Oleander stuffed the papers back into the briefcase again. Sprinkles of raindrops were falling from the sky once more. She began walking back to her headquarters again, the tiniest bit of an emotion seeping out of her before she squashed it back down. A desire.

If The Sheep rescued people who had been human trafficked, couldn’t they save her?

[bsdtakanenohana]

Takane No Hana │ 高値 の 花

Summary: (n.) someone or something one desires but is far away or unattainable; lit. "flower on a high peak” If you love long, drawn out stories and other people’s BSD OCs you’ve come to the right place.

Rating: T (will probably change in later chapters)

Relationships: Osamu Dazai & original female character, Chuuya Nakahara & original female character

Other AO3 Tags: Developing Friendships, Platonic Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Slow Burn, the romance is a lot later on when I say slow burn I mean slow burn, you get to find out which relationships develop which way(s), Pre-Fifteen Light Novel

Chapter Five

Shinobi Naku | 忍び なく

(v.) to shed silent tears so no one will know you are crying; lit. "ninja/stealth cry"

Dazai eyed Layla as she limped across the lobby. Once she was within hearing range he said, “What happened here? Are you trying to copy my injuries? Or perhaps you got hurt on your first mission.”

It was the next Saturday, only three days after her scuffle, one of the dates she had told him to wait for her. She didn’t expect him to actually do it since he hadn’t bothered to show up the last time. But more surprising was that he knew she had gone on a mission and that it had been her first. She leaned on her crutch and stared at him with her usual expressionless face.

“I’ve done missions before.” It technically wasn’t a lie. She considered everytime she left the building on some errand a mission.

This seemed to surprise Dazai but he quickly shrugged it away. “Oh well, even more experienced mobsters can get their butts kicked.”

His intelligence seemed to come from good estimating, not necessarily knowing. “You should have seen the other guys. Second degree burns at best.” She only killed when there was no other option. But she knew she should be proud of what she did, since it meant her usage of Starbound was improving. So she chose to act like she was.

“Do you know if you’re able to electrocute someone so fast they would die before realizing it?” he asked, his face full of sincere curiosity and an almost innocent longing.

“No, I’m not going to kill you.” She began walking towards the front doors, ready to head back to the warehouse.

Dazai followed. “That’s a shame. I’ll just have to think of something else.”

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway, your ability would have nullified it.”

“Not if you directed a high enough voltage at me.” He began calmly reciting what would ensue as if he was talking about the logistics of a baseball game and not his death. “You would not be able to control it once it touched me, but it would already be traveling in my direction. Enough would still get into my body and–”

“It’s good to know I can kill you if needed, but I’m not ever going to do it.” Layla hobbled all the way outside.

“Then there’s no reason to continue this acquaintanceship any further,” Dazai said as he continued to trail after her.

When she got to the sidewalk she finally spoke again. “Are you even allowed to leave these premises?”

“Of course I am.”

“You know I’m just going back to my job.”

“Take a break, let’s walk around the next couple of blocks.”

“You have to answer my questions though.” And they were off. In another moment Layla asked, “So do you plan on joining the Mafia or are you planning on running once the ‘circumstances outside of your control’ are no longer out of your control?”

“I don’t see myself living that long but if I do, which is plausible, I might.”

“Might join or might run?” she wanted to clarify. But her crutch caught on a jagged end of the sidewalk and dropped, which in turn caused her to fall. She landed on her good leg and was able to bounce back up immediately. While leaning on the crutch she did have, she picked up the other one.

“Your turn. Do you plan on running away from your job? You said you were forced in, and nothing about you has indicated that you enjoy this lifestyle.”

“No, I don’t plan on running. Yet. I’d like to gather some money first. No point in running if you don’t have the funds to support yourself.” She refused to tell Dazai more and let him know her too well. There was an aura of darkness that poured from him like smoke poured out of the fires she caused. And as long as he was associating with the Port Mafia, any knowledge he had on her could jeopardize her safety. He was going to have to work to earn her trust.

“Okay your turn again. How old are you?” There were many people on the streets today which was good. They would look quite odd together, what with his formal attire, large coat, and facial bandages paired with her serape, crutches, and leg braces. Instead they blended in with the varied and sizable crowd.

“Fourteen. Follow me, there’s something here I’m going to get,” and he opened the door to a convenience store they were passing.

“Alright,” and they stepped in.

The store had a few other customers in it, each and every one intent on minding his or her own business. Layla went straight to the candy aisle. There were many candies in America she had wanted to try but couldn’t because her parents had limited the amount she ate at once. Japanese candies were different, but there was no one to tell her “no” now. It was the one perk of not having any adults who cared about your wellbeing around.

After grabbing three different small bags of candy she hadn’t tried before, she looked around for Dazai. He was where the drinks were, staring in contemplation.

She limped over. “Energy drinks.” She looked at the pill bottle he was carrying in his hand. She didn’t recognize the label, which meant it wasn’t over-the-counter. “And where did you get that prescription from?”

“This is a pharmacy and convenience store. The prescriptions are kept locked underneath the register over there.” He pointed at the pharmacy counter on the other side of the store. “It was luck that the first pills in the cabinet were blood-thinners.

“When did you even have time to pick the lock?” They had only been seperated for a few minutes.

“It’s a very quick and easy process if you know what you’re doing.” He opened the fridge doors and grabbed three cans of energy drinks, all different flavors and brands.

“I don’t think those are supposed to mix together,” she said as he closed the fridge.

“No, these flavors are the best ones of their brand. They should taste fine,” Dazai was being willfully obtuse.

“Not the drinks, the drinks and the medicine–” but Layla stopped as he hid the drinks inside his large coat. “You aren’t paying for those?”

His one visible eye glared at her. “What, you’re a criminal who pays for snacks?”

“I only steal when necessary. I can afford the candy and if you don’t have any money, I could even afford those drinks.”

For a split second warmth flickered in his eye, like he was touched by her statement. But it went away too quickly for Layla to catch it and was replaced by the glare again. “Alright, Gonta the honest thief. You’re not going to survive the underbelly of Yokohama that way. Put those bags under your cloak, continue to look around like you haven’t decided what you want yet, and then casually walk out the door. The security cameras are pointed toward the register and door, not this aisle.”

Layla didn’t see a point in arguing. She looked over at the cash register, tempted to pay anyway. His advice made sense. She couldn’t be soft in this world if she wanted to survive. But this life was only a temporary phase. She decided to steal this one time to toughen herself up, but she planned on going back to stealing only when necessary.

She did as Dazai said and the two of them strolled the aisles separately before meeting back up again before the doors, and exited when another group walked in.

“That was stupid.” She said as they made their way to the crosswalk.

He side-eyed her curiously. “What do you mean?”

Layla shifted her weight to her crutch to give her right leg a break as they waited for the light to change. “I’m not anymore likely to survive than I would have been if I had paid. But you’re now less likely to survive because I allowed you to steal blood-thinners and energy drinks. I know what you’re going to do with those.”

“Oh really, do you know?” he replied sarcastically as they crossed the street.

“Yes.”

“And you allowed me to take both?” his face remained neutral, but his tone was annoyed.

“Yes. I allowed it. And you should really work on the ‘unemotional persona’ that you put forth. There’s a lot of cracks in that charade.”

Dazai didn’t stop walking but there was a slight hesitancy in his next steps. “It’s not a charade or a persona.” His face continued to reveal nothing.

“Well whatever it is, you’re not actually emotionless, despite your face making you seem like that a lot.” Her truly blank stare hid no darkness behind it as she looked directly at him.

“No person is a hundred percent emotionless, but I never claimed to be one anyway. I simply think before I ever act. Most people react emotionally instead of logically.”

Layla stopped so she could face him. “I am a one hundred percent emotionless person, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I thought you were unable to express yourself properly due to emotional neglect from being raised by a gang.” There was the teasing again, as if he was trying to be annoying.

But she couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “No, I don’t have emotions anymore because I choose to not have them. It’s very straightforward and it is possible to achieve, but you’re not even halfway there. You don’t even operate based on pure logic.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because,” she pointed to the pills and drinks he was carrying, only half hidden behind the coat which hung from his shoulders. “There is no logical reason for one to want to kill oneself. It’s completely counterintuitive to the instincts of every living being, which are: to survive for as long as possible no matter what and continue living after death by producing offspring stronger than oneself. Any contrary desire comes strictly from emotions.”

It seemed that she had stunned him into silence. The crowds passed by them as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk staring at each other. The girl with her unfeeling face, her reddish brown eyes holding the life she defended in them; the boy with his shocked face which then melded into a matching expression, his dark brown eye holding the death he desired in it.

Layla wanted to speak then, wanted to say something important, she knew there was something else to be said. But ever since she killed off her emotions, there was a realm of human interaction which was locked away.

Finally, it was Dazai who spoke, as he kept walking. “I guess you’re partially right. But if death comes for us all in the end, it becomes illogical for us to keep seeking out our basic instincts, doesn’t it?”

She followed him with difficulty. He was walking too fast for her to completely keep up with while on crutches. “I can’t argue.”

Dazai smiled a grim smile, the kind that the person playing devil’s advocate does when correct about the dark future of a sensitive topic where everyone else was still holding onto hope.

“No, not like that. I literally cannot argue. At least not now. This isn’t my native tongue, when thoughts become too complex I have to start translating things in my head and even then I’m not sure I’m understanding correctly or if the things I say are what I mean to say.”

“I guess you’re partially right. But if death comes for us all in the end, it becomes illogical for us to keep seeking out our basic instincts, doesn’t it?” he repeated in English.

Layla blinked. “I guess my accent makes it obvious I’m from the U.S.?” She thought she had gotten rid of it about two years ago and it only showed if she spoke fast. But perhaps it was her slower speech which also gave her away.

All the previous tension had left the atmosphere. “When I first saw you I thought you spoke Spanish or Portuguese since you’re obviously Latin American.” He went back to speaking in Japanese. “But your speech patterns and slight accent indicated American English was your first language.”

They were back outside the Port Mafia headquarters. The black high-rise towered over them as if to show how insignifcant everyone who passed near them was.

“You’re a puzzle of mysteries just waiting to be solved.” There was a gleam in his eye that made Layla both want to talk to him more to see what hid in his own mind, but also run away because it foretold danger for her.

He should not be solving anything more about where you are from, as long as he’s associated with the Port Mafia. She reminded herself. He should not figure out your true ability, ever. The information would be dangerous if anyone else knew, in their hands it could end up being lethal.

“And in this boring life,” Dazai pouted, “any mystery makes things exciting.”

“Is this boredom part of the reason you want to die?” Layla asked. Based on their earlier conversation she assumed they were already at the point in their acquaintanceship where she could ask questions like this.

Dazai’s exposed eye widened slightly. “There’s more to it than that.”

If only I could help. But I have my own problems to deal with first.

“I can’t stay out any longer, I have to get back to my job. In two weeks I’ll be ready to talk about any of these big life questions you’re mulling over, so you aren’t allowed to die in the meantime.” Layla leaned forward and snatched one of the energy drinks from underneath his coat and started to hobble away.

“Heyyy!” Dazai whined. “That was mine!”

It certainly was strange the way he could switch his demeanor so fast.

What a switch-up from his earlier mood. Such a child. “How else am I supposed to survive the criminal world unless I know how to steal candy from babies?” She called back.

[bsdtakanenohana]

Takane No Hana │ 高値 の 花

Summary: (n.) someone or something one desires but is far away or unattainable; lit. "flower on a high peak” If you love long, drawn out stories and other people’s BSD OCs you’ve come to the right place.

Rating: T (will probably change in later chapters)

Relationships: Osamu Dazai & original female character, Chuuya Nakahara & original female character

Other AO3 Tags: Developing Friendships, Platonic Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Slow Burn, the romance is a lot later on when I say slow burn I mean slow burn, you get to find out which relationships develop which way(s), Pre-Fifteen Light Novel

AN: If any corrections need to be made to my chapter titles please tell me, I don't speak Japanese and I'm relying on phrases found online + an online translator (not Google). Thank you for reading!

Chapter Four

Sono Shunkan Wa Watashi No Kioku Ni Yakitsuite Iru | その瞬間は私の記憶に焼き付いている

“That moment is burned into my memory.”

The Saturday after the next weekend Layla went to the Mafia headquarters again. Dazai wasn’t there.

She spent the days training to have better control over her special ability. While she kept Starbound’s true power a secret from all, the portion that she did allow others to know about was still difficult. When it came to manipulating nearby plasma, she thrived. As long as she had no emotions, there was no reason for it to get out of control. But when it came time to create plasma, the difficulties set in.

It ended up being a correct assessment to say that there was a time limit on her power to create. As long as she had been manipulating nearby plasma for a few minutes, no matter how small it was, she could create her own. The only exception to this, and she knew of this possibility before, was if she created it using her emotions. Layla could work with the time limit though. It was also a lot of effort to control the created plasma. As she created it, she had to focus and think of what she knew about her ability. Sometimes she had to read from science journals to understand its full capabilities. It wasn’t like other special abilities that just came naturally, she had to be aware of the very nature that surrounded her. It was its own scientific process.

After seven minutes of playing with a spark of electricity from an open wire, she was finally able to use Starbound to create a much larger and entirely different strand of purple electricity which went from one hand to the next, back and forth, getting more powerful with each charge she put in it. She stood on the roof of YYRGK’s hideout. With one push of her right hand, Layla pulled it all into one and then thrust it out, a zap a lot similar to a lightning strike shot out across the rooftops. It went past two nearby buildings before dropping to the ground and making a cracking sound as it impacted the concrete. Immediately afterward she shot out another purple bolt. If she went more than a few seconds without creating or controlling some type of plasma, the time limit would come back.

When Layla first discovered she was gifted, the time limit was one of the most puzzling aspects about it. Why did she have to warm up her ability in order to unlock the next level of it, every single time she used it? In time she understood what the kind old lady said was true, it was a sort of defense mechanism to protect herself. While controlling plasma around her didn’t have any negative effects, creating it did. It’s impossible to create something from nothing. Energy and matter cannot be destroyed, just change form. And Starbound used her own energy.

She tried again and again, shooting off lightning into the air. Layla did it with kicks and punches as if she was in a fight, imagining how it would be to trick opponents into thinking they only had to dodge her fist and then flinging fifty volts at them instead. There was a pause as she tried to create fire. Too slow. The change from creating one to the other needed to be quicker. Now she was out and had to wait to recharge.

Even though she was now hungry, Layla walked over to the other side of the roof and picked up a lighter she swiped from the convenience store. She wanted to always have one on her so she was never again in a situation like a few weeks ago near the docks. Electricity was everywhere so she had thought she would always have some form of defense. In the blindspots of the world where there was no electricity, she needed to carry her own fire with her.

There were dark clouds in the sky that foretold heavy rain. Living so close to the ocean meant storms were more likely even in months that were not in the rainy season. But the clouds made the alleyway darker, creating a better hiding spot for Layla.

This was her first real mission. She did not think she was ready. She hadn’t trained enough with her ability, and she hadn’t trained with another ability user in years.

Her job was to reclaim money from an opposing gang. A year ago, when the city was still in bloodshed because of the constant wars started by the Port Mafia, this group had stolen items worth three million yen from YYRGK. They had been too weak to retaliate at the time. But today, a courier was taking that much money and more from one of their hideouts to the headquarters. Layla was sent to ambush and take the money back.

Four armed lackeys. None of them with special abilities, to her boss's knowledge. If the information was accurate, it would be easy pickings. If not, today could be the day she died. It wasn’t as if there were scores of Gifteds running around in all the gangs, so there was a good chance it was nothing. She kept quiet in her little nook seven feet off the ground, not even playing with the lighter which would only give away her position.

If a half trained twelve year old can take out four grown men with guns, that’s something to be proud of and celebrate. Layla had to tell herself these things. Sometimes she liked to think about what emotions others would feel in certain situations and pretend that that’s what she felt too. It helped her from being tempted to stop suppressing them.

There were footsteps to the right of her. She turned her head slowly and crouched even lower, hiding most of her face in the collar of her black shirt. This was a precarious ledge she was on, too much movement was risky. Five men cut through the alleyway, three already with pistols drawn. Layla waited until they were directly underneath her to make her move. She hoped the extra man wasn’t an ability user, flicked her lighter on and threw it to her left, in the direction they were walking. The alleyway lit up in a blaze. She had doused gasoline yards away as part of the ambush.

Since she threw the lighter at an angle, when it dropped, it looked like it dropped from straight above. The three men with their pistols drawn were looking up and ahead, the one who looked like he had a satchel under his coat stood still, and the fifth one spun around, seemingly ready to fight whoever was going to come from behind with his bare hands.

A skill user? Layla thought before reaching her left arm in the direction of the wall of fire and swiping it across herself like she was swatting a mosquito. The fire came flying at the men, burning the ones with pistols; she stopped the fire from getting too close to the man with the satchel, not wanting to burn the money. As it was, the fire was growing too fast. She had used too much gasoline.

The alleyway was filled with their screams as they attempted to put themselves out. She quickly called some fire to her and then aimed a blast at the man in the back. His eyes had been searching for the assailant but didn’t see the fire until it had already hit him. With no defenses, he too was left to burn and try to put himself out. It seemed he wasn’t an ability user after all, but had been calling for back-up.

With that she had given away her position so Layla knew she had to act fast. She launched herself off the ledge, ready to use the man with the satchel to break her fall. But in the commotion he had drawn a gun without her noticing. After he saw where the fire blast had come from, he aimed his gun in her direction.

They made eye contact as she fell.

Everything in her body told her to react and she managed to turn as shots rang out. The bullets went through the air where her chest had just been. But there wasn’t enough time to do much else and she landed with nothing to break her fall.

There was a jolt of intense pain, a scramble to keep her emotions from appearing, and a blur of black shooting through the air. Layla’s mind didn’t process the third thing at first. She was still waiting for the final shot that would kill her while reaching for the fire that would burn the bastard even after she was dead.

It didn’t happen. Instead she heard the sound of a body colliding into a brick wall. She turned her head to the direction the blur had disappeared. Standing over the man with the satchel, who was crumpled into the ground unconscious, was a boy her age. His hands were in the pockets of his dark green biker jacket. Her vision was blurry with pain, her left leg most likely broken, but she could still make out some of his face against the backdrop of the wall of fire.

Like an avenging angel, she thought in a daze.

“You shoulda never stolen from The Sheep,” the boy said as he bent down and picked up the satchel. He opened it and checked the contents.

Layla was trying to discreetly get away by scooting. One of the burnt men was passed out on the ground, possibly dead. Another had run off instead of stopping, dropping, and rolling. The other two were severely burnt but trying to reach their comrade whom the boy was standing on.

“Wow. This is twenty times the amount you took from us.” The boy laughed, not seeming to care at all that two men were trying to pick up scraps in the alley to use as weapons, their guns still too hot to touch.

Because most of that is our money, Layla thought. Nobody was paying attention to her, the other gang members probably thought it was the boy who had lit everything on fire. But how would she get the money from this red-haired boy? Maybe if she pretended to be a little injured kid, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, he would feel bad and give her what he didn’t need.

Didn’t he just say he was a member of The Sheep? Maybe I should approach and plead to join.

“If you ever try to retaliate for this,” he said, finally acknowledging the two injured men, “remember what The Sheep does to those who harm them.” And suddenly the man underneath his shoe began sinking into the ground.

Layla was confused for a moment before realizing who was in front of her. This was the gravity manipulator, the one called the King of the Sheep.

Another dark blur flew by and he was gone. She had managed to get behind a trash can to hide until the men went away. One was calling off the back-up and instead saying they’d need to kidnap a doctor to fix them up. The burnt man on the ground was still alive, as was the man the Sheep King pushed into the ground. But he was under the cement with serious injuries from being slammed around. He seemed to be stuck.

She decided then was as good a time as any to sneak away. As she continued to crawl behind trash piled up on the side of the alleyway, she heard sirens in the distance. The fire was growing. Once she was near the street entrance, she stood needing to get out of the area quickly. It hurt, but if she was able to stand, she doubted her leg was broken. Last time, she hadn’t been able to put any weight on it.

As she painfully limped down the street, she heard a gunshot ring out from the alley behind her.

Nothing was broken but Layla’s left ankle and knee were sprained, the ligaments inside very damaged. And somehow her hip bone was bruised. It didn’t take her out of work for even a full day, but she was on office duty only until she was completely healed.

With a brace on her ankle and knee, and her leg elevated on a nearby chair she typed away on the office’s computer. She had one tab open to help her because she still sometimes she made mistakes when writing. And mistakes were not a thing she could afford to make in this line of work.

As it was she had failed the mission. She didn’t get even a part of their money back. It wasn’t her fault, nobody had planned on a third party busting in and taking it all. True, if it wasn’t for him doing that she would still have failed and also been killed, but she didn’t tell that to her superiors. The pain wasn’t as intense when she had made it back so she had been able to explain herself and lie so as to not be severely punished. There had been a hard backhand across her face which sent her off balance and collapsing to the floor, but the sting of it was blurred with the pain medication she had received not long after for her sprains. And because her injuries already took her out of physical labor, she wasn’t punished– corporally– further. They needed her skill back in commission too badly to injure her more.

Layla refused to stop for meal breaks, wanting to make up for her failure. It had put her in a precarious spot, even if her special skill was desired. Lunchtime was two hours ago but she was still writing up documents and making sure everything was translated properly. Her mind kept wandering away from her job and towards the boy she saw two days ago.

The rumors of The Sheep having a gifted who could manipulate the gravity of the things he touched seemed a little outlandish that even she almost doubted them. How could someone have a skill that gave him control over one of the four fundamental forces? Her ability was almost like that and she had already thought herself a freak amongst freaks. The idea that it would be better to leave YYRGK and join them kept making more and more sense.

[bsdtakanenohana]

Continuing on my tags in the last post:

Pieces that fall together are how Layla and Chuuya’s story and characters fit so well with one another.

Chuuya states he does what must be done. Not what he wants done.

Layla states she does what is right even if it goes against her personal feelings.

They’re two teens who very much should be on the side of light, helping the world become a better place with their self-sacrificing ways, but because of circumstances not fully in their control, they’re stuck in the dark.

And Layla sees that with Chuuya at first. It’s why she gets a moment there where she can’t repress her emotions and starts becoming angry at him when she finds out he joined the Port Mafia. And throughout the time she’s getting to know him in their first year as friends, this idea that he’s not where he’s supposed to be solidifies in her mind and she knows he should still hate the Mafia but he doesn’t he views them as a family now and she’s so confused. Because she’s still in that life, working with another criminal organization, but she is not overly loyal to them.

But at least with her, there are times when he can be— and I won’t call it selfish because it’s not— self indulging and not in a way that acts against who he is but in a way where he can take a break. Because she’s there, and she’s going to make the right decision and search for the light even in the middle of darkness. So for once he doesn’t have to be serving someone else’s needs and wants. She’ll deal with his needs.

[bsdtakanenohana]

Takane No Hana │ 高値 の 花

Summary: (n.) someone or something one desires but is far away or unattainable; lit. "flower on a high peak” If you love long, drawn out stories and other people’s BSD OCs you’ve come to the right place.

Rating: T (will probably change in later chapters)

Relationships: Osamu Dazai & original female character, Chuuya Nakahara & original female character

Other AO3 Tags: Developing Friendships, Platonic Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Slow Burn, the romance is a lot later on when I say slow burn I mean slow burn, you get to find out which relationships develop which way(s), Pre-Fifteen Light Novel

AN: If any corrections need to be made to my chapter titles please tell me, I don't speak Japanese and I'm relying on phrases found online + an online translator (not Google). There's not much of Chuuya in these earlier chapters because of when this is set, but don't worry, he'll get his time.

Chapter Three

Achikochi Kara Nigeru Koto Wa Dekite Mo, Kono Sekai Kara Nigeru Koto Wa Dekinai | あちこち から 逃げる 事 わ できて も、 この 世界 から 逃げる 事 わ できない

“You can run away from everywhere, but you can't run away from this world.”

WC: ~2.3k

The tension in the air changed around the nine year old girl as she turned on her special ability and the space around her began changing.

“Imagine your ability as a physical thing that you can take hold of and shape. A painting, a sculpture, even the written word. This is how you can control it.” The words rang through her mind.

She extended her hands and drew in the air with her fingers little flames. In her mind she willed her skill to change the particles in the air to plasma, specifically a very hot fire. Normally she would not have been able to create anything without having controlled what already existed for a few minutes. But from the strength of the determination in her heart, her ability was able to bypass its limit. It only ever did this when she used her emotions.

The girl cupped her hands and held the purple flames, feeding it as its heat pulsed outwards. She no longer fed it from her determination, but let her skill continue on its own. And then it became too much. She dropped it into the dirt and fell backwards. The fire burned on for a few more seconds and went out. She watched it and felt exhausted. When she created instead of controlled what already existed, she wasn’t able to hold it for long, no matter how hard she tried.

“Your body seems to want to protect you from your own special ability,” the kind old lady said. “Your ability seems to use your energy to feed it, but if all your energy was spent, you would die. It stops before you get near that point.”

The little girl said nothing. She sat there, staring at the ground, too exhausted to speak. Too thirsty, mouth too dry to part her lips.

“I’ll go get you some water,” the elderly woman said and hurried off towards the home.

Oleander awoke feeling thirsty. Her mouth was not dry but she felt the insatiable urge to drink a gallon of water. Quickly, she stood up and went to the sink in her room. She lived in one of the extra rooms of YYRGK’s base for a cheap rent. Too young to live anywhere else alone without the money to bribe others with, she had to settle for here.

The place wasn’t too bad. The water in the sink and shower ran clean, the fact that there was a little bathroom attached at all was a bonus, and since they kept their building well maintained, there were no rats and only occasional bugs. She filled up a cup of water from the sink and drank it all. The day was going to be a long one.

A few hours later she was already worn out. Oleander was keeping inventory of their smuggled items. Until she trained her ability and made it stronger, they were not going to have her do any fighting. Office jobs, deliveries, and moving and counting boxes was all she was allowed. And she was glad for it. Oleander never wanted this criminal lifestyle, but planned on making the best of the situation she was forced into. One day soon, they would require her special ability on the front lines, and if they ever realized just how capable it was, a more powerful organization like the Port Mafia would find out too. Then she would never be able to leave. That was why she would never let them know exactly what it was.

She shoved the final box in place and checked it off the list right as she heard the calls for “boy!” coming from the office. It seemed she had another task delivering messages and paperwork.

She did not wish to return to the Port Mafia headquarters. That weird boy, Dazai, would most likely be there. He had figured out that Oleander was a girl. One of her most guarded secrets, like her special ability or her past. Something had given her away, and she couldn’t figure out what. That made him a potential threat to her safety.

Like last time, she saved the Port Mafia visit for last. Since she had started later in the day than before, by the time she reached their headquarters, the sun was low in the sky. The night was when the underworld’s most fierce thrived and the worst of the worst happened. Already the steps of the building were crawling with foot soldiers of the Mafia. Their guns and weapons were hidden, even though it was an open secret about who operated here, they weren’t about to show dozens of their pistols in the middle of downtown.

She walked past them all without a second glance, glad she had killed her emotions a few years ago. If not, she wouldn’t have been able to have the job she did. This alone would have frightened her to death. But every child has to grow up eventually, she thought.

The entire way up Oleander kept her eyes peeled for Dazai. He wasn’t around. Even after the brief meeting, she didn’t see him on her way back down. He was trying to kill himself and it has been two weeks. Maybe he succeeded?

Even though he was possibly dangerous, she did not wish for him to be out of her life because he died. Rather, it would be better if he just stopped hanging around this building. Or the Port Mafia as a whole.

On the way back to YYRGK's hideout she decided to take the subway. The sun would be completely set before she arrived and she was too tired from work to properly defend herself if someone attacked. On the subway car she spotted a few teenagers gathered on one end. They each wore a blue wristband on their right wrists.

The Sheep.

Oleander stared at them as she thought about what to do. If she approached them and asked them if she could join, would they accept her? Perhaps there would be tests, but then would she be able to pass them? Her ability, although suppressed and still in need of refining to control, was powerful. There were few ability users in The Sheep and only one great enough that others in the underworld had heard about. Some boy who could manipulate gravity of all things.

One of the boys, a teen with silver hair, caught her staring. “What are you looking at?” he called out.

Oh. While lost in thought, she had ended up staring them down.

Oleander forced a smile. “Sorry, I was off in my own world daydreaming.” Then she looked away.

If she joined them now, YYRGK would not be powerful enough to track her down and force her back, or kill her. Especially since The Sheep would protect her as one of their own. She glanced back over at them again. They were joking around obnoxiously loud. Not exactly the hero types she had been picturing them as, but an enemy of the Port Mafia and the other cruel gangs in this city was an ally to her.

She stood to approach them but it was their stop. They rushed out of the subway car, pushing a middle aged woman out of the way in order to do so. They seemed to be on a mission, their previously cheerful faces turned solemn. Perhaps they were about to raid one of the Port Mafia’s storehouses for weapons or free some trafficked kids. It wouldn’t have been a good time to join them anyways.

This week Oleander only had to pick up something from the Port Mafia headquarters and then she was back out. It was cold outside even though it was a sunny spring day. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. As she turned down the sidewalk, she spotted a certain dark-haired boy with a black coat a few sizes too big sitting on the ledge of the garden in front of one of the Mafia buildings. The young girl began to slow her pace. But she didn’t walk the other way.

“Hello.” She said when she got close to him. He already saw her, might as well say something.

“Fancy seeing you here~” Dazai said, but despite his cheery tone his brown eye held a darkness in it.

“Why do you hang around the Port Mafia headquarters so much if you’re not in the mafia?” Oleander asked.

His fake cheery tone disappeared. “Why would I tell you that when you refused to tell me your name, Oleander?”

She pressed her lips together. “You went through some of the papers I’ve turned in.” There was no question about it.

He nodded. “It’s how I knew you were a girl. Only a girl would name herself after a flower.”

So Dazai knew her name last time, which meant he pretended to not know. Another reason to not trust him as he was good at lying. She didn’t question how he knew she had named herself. In the underworld, if someone only went by one name that name was a fake.

“Leander is a boy’s name though.” But she didn’t pretend that Oleander wasn’t a flower. “I’d change it but everyone just calls me ‘boy’ anyway. So why do you hang around here so much? Are your parents in the Mafia or something?”

“No. And you still haven’t told me your actual name, so I won’t be answering anything.”

“Layla.” Some character from a story she had once read was named that.

Even though she only gave one name again, he didn’t press the issue. “Why are you so curious about me, hm?” The darkness in his eye was uncanny. The sun was out and even the darkest of brown eyes twinkled in sunlight. But not Dazai’s.

“You’re the only person my age I’ve run into since I became a criminal. It intrigued me.”

“There are more in the Port Mafia than in other gangs. Typically they don’t allow little kids to join,” his eye narrowed but there was a tease to his tone.

Layla supposed that if she had emotions she would be annoyed by his attitude. He acted as if he wanted to annoy her. But instead it just made her more curious. “I’m not a little kid, I’m twelve years old. And I wasn’t ‘allowed’ to join, I was forced.”

“Which is stranger still.” Dazai was studying her now, the hidden gears of his mind obviously churning. Layla couldn’t help but notice how long his face was, almost to the point of equinity. And the rest of his features did not match each other. It was as if they were growing at different rates and disproportionate to his facial structure. The bandage wrapped around part of his face only exaggerated the lopsided look.

“I have to go now.” She said, standing straighter and adjusting her serape. This boy was not a threat to her as previously thought. He only figured out she was a girl because he knew her name and guessed. And he only knew her name because he went through some papers about her. While he was tricky and untrustworthy, if she wanted to keep her past and ability from him, she could. “I seem to get called here every other Friday or Saturday in the afternoon. You can wait for me in the lobby if you want.”

He didn’t like that. “And why would I do that?”

“Because we’re both curious about each other so we shouldn't leave our meetings up to chance like this.”

“Who says this meeting was by chance?” he said slyly.

“Just wait for me in the lobby the Saturday after next,” Layla started walking off again but only got one step.

Dazai reached out and grabbed the end of her serape and the world felt a little duller. She didn’t know how to explain it. If it hadn’t already been sunny with no clouds in the sky, she would have thought one passed overhead. She turned to look at him as he let go.

“You have a strong special ability,” he said as the world became more colorful again. “I felt mine working harder to nullify it.”

It was then that she realized her ability, which she always had activated when she was on the Port Mafia’s premises, was shut off.

“Your special ability… takes away others?” Then that meant–

He nodded, his face still neutral. “I wanted to see how powerful yours was. When I first met you a few weeks ago, you mentioned being able to control lightning if you were close enough. An ability like that has potential.”

“Yes. Now will you answer my question, since you know so much about me? Why are you always hanging around here if you’re not part of the Port Mafia? With an ability like yours, you could join any organization, legal or criminal.”

“I’m tied down here due to complications outside my control. But I also think it’s worth sticking around to see what happens. Things could go many ways and I want to see which path pans out. Many of them lead to my death, a good amount of those quick painless ones.” He spoke of his potential death casually, which was almost stranger than if he was interested in it.

Layla blinked. “That was vague.”

Dazai’s lips curled ever so slightly upright, forming an almost-smile. “I’ll see you the Saturday after next, if I experience the misfortune of not dying.”

She wanted to say something about his wanting to die, but couldn’t think of what. She had never been around a vocally suicidal person before. What she did know was that she did not want this strange, ugly, untrustworthy, and possibly demented boy to die. This was the beginning of a friendship forming. She hadn’t had a friend in a few years and thought she wouldn’t have one until she mastered better control over Starbound. Otherwise, she was a threat to people's safety.

“See you,” Layla said and walked away.

But if Dazai could nullify abilites, that meant he was immune to the effects of abilities, shouldn’t it? Even if he wasn’t, if he was around, a repeat of The Tragedy wouldn’t happen again. She could even allow herself to feel again.

No. A dark aura surrounded him, and he was still too smart for her own good. She could not entrust him with the task of stopping another Tragedy before it happened. She could not give anyone that power over her.

I can just imagine it now. “I’m mad at you, so I’m going to let you be mad at me even if it leads to other people getting hurt or killed. I won’t use my special ability to stop yours because I personally will not be affected by it.”

People tended to be self-centered like that.

[bsdtakanenohana]

Takane No Hana │ 高値 の 花

Summary: (n.) someone or something one desires but is far away or unattainable; lit. "flower on a high peak” If you love long, drawn out stories and other people’s BSD OCs you’ve come to the right place.

Rating: T (will probably change in later chapters)

Relationships: Osamu Dazai & original female character, Chuuya Nakahara & original female character

Other AO3 Tags: Developing Friendships, Platonic Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Slow Burn, the romance is a lot later on when I say slow burn I mean slow burn, you get to find out which relationships develop which way(s), Pre-Fifteen Light Novel

AN: originally posted to my AO3 thedragonandthewolf, I’m also posting it here to reach a different audience.

Chapter Two

Shinitai No Ka? │ 死にたい の か？

“You want to die?”

WC: ~2.3k

“Again?” Oleander asked herself as she read through the newest volume of a shoujo manga. This MC had managed to fall into yet another love triangle. Twice was odd but believable. But three sets of love triangles with six different boys before the age of twenty-two? Preposterous. She set the book down under the desk and went back to translating documents for her job.

This was one reason her boss, Masato, had found Oleander valuable. YYRGK was trying to expand their business outside of Japan. Being a port city made this a somewhat simple task despite being a small group, and now that they were subcontracted with the Port Mafia, it only made things easier. The current Lingua Franca of the world was English, but the average Yokohaman criminal couldn’t speak it, and fewer still could read and write it. However, Oleander’s first language was English.

The papers were stacked higher than normal because she had been putting them off to read the manga. She rushed to translate the English documents into Japanese. A few of the workers came in to grab water from the fridge, laughing at some weird joke and complaining about some smugglers before walking right back out. They ignored her, like always, but she liked it that way. It was just another reason why she pretended to be a boy.

There were only two pages left to translate when Masato walked in. “Boy,” he addressed her. Nobody called her “Oleander” so she almost wanted to stop introducing herself with it. Maybe “Boy” could be her name.

“Yes, sir?”

Her job as translator was to be put aside in favor of becoming a messenger-boy again. It was time to deliver money to the smuggling organization the workers had just been making fun of and pick up a permit from the Port Mafia. It wasn’t until she was forced into this life that she learned how similar running a gang was to running a business. When she was a child, she imagined criminal organizations just being slightly more organized versions of what the average lone criminal did. She had no idea the underworld was, well, its own world.

A few minutes later Oleander was out on the busy streets of Yokohama. She hadn’t been used as a messenger since the first time she had gone to the Mafia headquarters two weeks ago. She wondered, if she had emotions would she be scared or excited to go back?

The day was clear with not a single cloud in the sky. The first stop was by the bay, so Oleander stood on a dock and admired the sparkling water. It looked cleaner than the bay of a big city had any right to look.

As she continued to walk along the waterfront she passed by a group of four shady looking men, probably not in any gang but just random thugs who happened to be grouped together, clustering around a fire in a metal bin and roasting meat over it. They didn’t ignore her like everyone else did.

“Hey you!” The tallest one called out.

Oleander turned to look at them. Two were already approaching.

It’s because of this briefcase I carry. It wasn’t hers but the boss’s. It was a lot nicer than everything else she owned and looked like it had valuables in it. And of course today was the day it actually did.

“What do you have there?” the same man asked. The other three were fanning out now. They were going to surround her.

In the blink of an eye she activated her special ability.

Starbound!

The plasma that was in their metal bin shot out towards her outstretched hand, burning one of the men in the process. He collapsed to the ground trying to put out his smoldering shirt and hair.

She would have to be careful to not burn her clothes. She had a cream-colored, flame retardant serape she normally wore over her clothes, but it was too humid to wear today. The flames were in both her hands now and growing in size and heat as her ability fed them.

Already another man was backing away, leaving her to deal with only two, including the tall man. She waited for a second, just to see if any of them would reveal an ability. Then she shot a fireball at the closest man, who dived into the blast. She had thrown it slightly to his right, knowing he would try to duck in the opposite direction from his acquaintances.

She didn’t look at him as she faced the other two and divided the fire into both hands once more. It wasn’t as hot, she didn’t want to feed it more than necessary. It would be better if there was more fire nearby. Once this was gone, she was out.

“Stay away,” she warned, holding her flaming hands out to each man, warding them off.

The shorter man looked to his two injured companions. “I doubt there’s anything in there worth getting this burnt over.” He told the tall man.

“Why else would he fight so hard to protect it?” the tall man asked.

Good point. She shot the remaining fire at him and took off running. The smugglers’ building was just a few dock’s down. If she reached their sight they would fight these men off to keep their payment safe. Nobody followed.

Unorganized, desperate, street thugs. She thought, now knowing she had correctly characterized them from the beginning. Exactly what she had thought all criminals were like before becoming one. She knew she was lucky that she hadn’t run into any real gangs. Or other Gifteds.

The Mafia’s five black towers looked even more ominous in the sunshine. One expects dreary days to be filled with dreary sights. The bright day contrasted sharply with those evil buildings. It was as if the very skyline of Yokohama was saying “here is a place so full of corruption, even the most wanted criminal group does not hide!”

Of course, the city did not celebrate crime. The constant work of the police, private agencies, and even the military was a testament to that. It was just an unfortunate reality that organized crime was so powerful here. A more unfortunate reality that this was because of Gifteds like her.

The lobby was busy but everyone ignored Oleander once again. This time it was the twentieth floor and she was visiting someone new. The elevator doors shut and jazz music began playing. She found it odd that somewhere in this Mafia, someone had been paid to sift through music for the elevators. She only made it to the fourth floor when the cab stopped. Someone was getting on.

The doors opened to reveal the bandaged boy she met last time. He looked exactly the same, only there was a more haunted air about him. When he recognized her, his face changed slightly to mirror hers. Expressionless.

“What a coincidence,” he said somewhat cheerily as he stepped in beside her. “Seeing you here again when there’s so many who work here that I’ve yet to see twice.”

“You weren’t there after my meeting even though I hadn’t been gone long.” Oleander saw no point in not cutting to the chase.

A wry smile appeared on his face before melting away. “I was called to other things.”

There was something amiss with this boy, she could sense it. He wasn’t a mafioso yet he hung around here, he was covered in bandages, he wasn’t like other teenagers her age. The human duty to protect flashed through her mind.

“Did someone here do that to you?” Oleander whispered while gesturing to his injuries. “I could get them to stop, if it isn’t someone high ranking.” Immediately she silently chided herself for offering that. Protecting others led to emotions and she didn’t need them trying to come back. Not yet.

The boy shot her a look that would have sent any girl with emotions running out the elevator as soon as it came to her stop. But he answered calmly, “I did it to myself.”

“Why?” was all she could say. What was one supposed to say to that? She wish she knew. Perhaps having emotions would help her in this case. Maybe then she could relate to him. But it’s not like people wanting to hurt themselves is a normal emotion.

She stayed in the elevator looking at the boy, waiting for him to answer.

Unknown to her, her lack of emotion made the situation better. She had asked why in a calm, non-judgemental voice with no worry or pity in it. This completely neutral, innocently curious question had shocked him silent.

“Because I was trying to kill myself.”

The door dinged giving a warning it was closing. It was darker again and the music paused as it changed songs. They stared at each other in the dim silence.

“But why?” she said again. Her dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion, not knowing what to think.

“Haven’t you reached your floor?” the boy questioned. His eyes were such a dark brown, if Oleander hadn’t been so close to him she would have thought them to be black.

She hit the button again. Never before had she met someone who was suicidal. Slowly she stepped out of the elevator but kept looking at him.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m sorry.” She was not. She could not feel sorrow or regret. The wish to not insult others and cause them emotional pain was entirely different.

The doors began to close once more. She thought he was still upset with her and she would never see him again. It wasn’t a good thought. The past two years had been incredibly lonely.

But the boy quickly hopped out into the hallway with her. “You don’t sound sorry.” He was toying with her, he didn’t care if she was sorry or not.

“I don’t sound like any emotion when I speak, now, or for the near future.”

“And why is that?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Why would I tell you? You didn’t answer my question. And I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Dazai. Osamu Dazai.”

So he wanted to be addressed by his surname, like a lot of adults did when they wanted respect or to keep a relationship formal. “Nice to meet you. I have to get going now,” Oleander said and tried to be on her way. But the sullen boy only walked with her. “Weren’t you supposed to get off on a higher floor?”

Dazai said, “I’ll get back on once I see where you’re going.”

She stopped and looked at him. “What’s going on with you?”

He tilted his head to the side innocently. “What do you mean?”

“If you were trying to kill yourself, you clearly don’t care about your life. Yet you’re following me around, asking me questions. I’m a total stranger. You seem awfully curious for someone who doesn't care if they live to see tomorrow. And I still don’t know what you’re doing at the Port Mafia headquarters if you’re not in the mafia. You don’t make any sense.”

“It’s incredibly boring in the places I have to be,” was his somewhat whiney answer. As if he were a normal teenager talking about being bored of his classes or social life.

Oleander looked at him, her mind racing. Under more normal circumstances she would want to make a friend, it had been so long since she had experienced friendship.

“I have no time for this,” she started off again. “I have business to attend.” He was no longer walking with her as she went down the hallway.

“Can I at least know the name of the girl I’m talking to?” Dazai called.

Oleander stopped in her tracks. “I’m not a girl.” Nobody had questioned her before. In fact, she rarely ever had to say she was a boy, people automatically assumed by her clothes and hair.

“Yes, you are. But I understand why you’re disguising yourself.”

She debated on if she should turn to face him and keep arguing that she was a boy, or if she should just walk away and let him accept the truth. Before her indecision became awkward he said, “Maybe I’ll see you again,” and his footsteps grew quieter as he walked away.

[bsdtakanenohana]

I have six chapters of my fanfiction published if anyone wants to read them 😋

[bsdtakanenohana]

Chapter Two of my fanfic has been posted!

I update it every other Tuesday

[bsdtakanenohana]

Chapter One is titled this because it’s a foreshadowing of what is to come. I try to make all my chapter titles this way. Formal and foreshadowing.

[bsdtakanenohana]

I posted chapter one of my fanfic! 😊