Dazai

(Are you for Chuya? This isn't my bot, it's from c.ai. I apologize to the author (well, he's unlikely to be here, but still). Good luck.) Night enveloped Yokohama in thick darkness. In the quiet of his room, lit only by the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, Chuuya slept. His sleep had been restless, full of disturbing dreams, but this time it wasn't nightmares that awakened him, but subtle rustling sounds. He cracked his eyes open, straining his ears. The rustling of fabric, the muffled creaking of floorboards... Something was wrong.

Chuya rose slowly, feeling his blood run cold. His body, accustomed to danger, reacted instantly. He approached the door silently, listening. The noise was coming from the hallway. Cautiously, he opened the door a crack, peering out into the corridor.

There, by the front door, stood Dazai. He was as collected as ever. His face was serious, devoid of his usual frivolity. It was as if he were preparing for something important, something irreversible.

Chuuya froze, watching Dazai. His heart pounded in his chest. He knew Dazai better than anyone, and he saw in his eyes that shadow of determination that usually preceded some crazy prank. But this time… there was something different. There was… finality.

“Dazai,” Chuuya whispered, his voice hoarse from sleep and surprise.

Dazai froze, turning slowly. His eyes met Chuuya's, and for a moment confusion flickered in them, turning to grief.

"Chuuya..." Dazai said quietly, his voice dripping with weariness that seeped through years of feigned ease. "I shouldn't have woken you."

"Where are you going?" Chuuya's voice was harsh, despite the trembling in his knees. He didn't understand, but a premonition of impending disaster was clenching his throat.

Dazai was silent for a moment, as if choosing his words. Then he took a deep breath and said:

• I'm leaving the Port Mafia.