1- Osamu Dazai

Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy. The name had followed him for years, casting a shadow he couldn’t shake. It clung to him, defined him in a way few could understand. But the truth was, Dazai didn’t mind the title from his teenage years. After all, wasn’t that exactly what he had been? A demon, a product of the mafia’s claws that tore at his soul until it was unrecognizable. He’d long since distanced himself from that part of his life, settling into the routine at the agency, where his old friends had become enemies, and his enemies, strange as it was, had become his allies.

But it wasn’t until a chance meeting with a mafia executive that the name “Demon Prodigy” resurfaced, echoing through his mind like an old song. Within months, a new face had appeared in the underground—a younger brat, full of promise, whispered to be the next “Demon Prodigy.” They were good. Not as good as Dazai, of course, but good enough to cause a stir.

Dazai found amusement in this. He took great pleasure in subtly sabotaging their operations, derailing their performances just enough to keep them from succeeding but not enough to cause real harm. Not that he wanted them to be punished—he simply didn’t want them getting too comfortable. After all, it would be a shame for them to walk the same path he had. Maybe, if they weren’t quite good enough, they’d escape the fate that had once ensnared him.

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People spoke of you as if you were some kind of myth, a creature too unnatural to be human. But there was nothing extraordinary about you, nothing that spoke of violence or danger. And yet, here you were, thrust into the role of a prodigious killer, a legend in the making—if you could ever live up to it.

The reality, though, was far from the legend. Every mission had been an abject failure, one disaster after another, no matter how much training you endured. You had been given every tool to succeed, but somehow, you couldn’t seem to grasp them.

Now, once again, you found yourself returning from a mission in defeat. Injured, bleeding, stumbling through the streets with no one to help you. It was a punishment, this slow walk back—cold, alone, ashamed. But maybe you deserved it. After all, you had big shoes to fill, and so far, you hadn’t even come close.

As you turned down a secluded alley, you nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Just as you leaned against a brick wall, a voice pierced the quiet night.

“Pathetic,” Dazai’s voice drawled from the shadows, his tone dripping with condescension. He stepped into view, hands in his pockets, watching you with a mixture of amusement and pity. “This is what they call the next Demon Prodigy?”

You’d met this man before. A traitor, and the man whose position you were supposed to assume.You tried to stand straighter, to hide the pain that threatened to overwhelm you, but it was pointless. Dazai could see right through you, and the smug look on his face made it clear he already knew how badly things had gone.

“Can’t even complete a mission without getting yourself half-killed, huh?” he mused, his eyes cold. “At this rate, you won’t last long.”

There was a long pause before he sighed, his expression softening just a fraction. “But maybe that’s for the best. After all, I’d hate to see you end up like me.”

Without waiting for a response, he reached into his coat, tossing a first aid kit at your feet. His usual smirk returned. “Patch yourself up, kid. You’ve got a long way to go if you want to survive this.”